Captured Again(The Let Me Go Series)

Chapter 10


Squeak...

The floor under the legs of the desk protested to Emma’s quick exit. As soon as the class was over, she’d shoved her things into her bag and abruptly stood up, inadvertently shoving her desk into Officer Rowan’s behind her.

“Sorry about that. Here’s your notes. Thank you,” she said as she slid his paper onto his desk and in one quick movement, twirled around and headed toward the door.

“Wait! Emma!” Dusty said loudly—too loudly. Now everyone who hadn’t made it out the door yet was looking from her to Dusty, drawing unwanted attention her way.

She didn’t want him to keep yelling at her to stop once she was out in the hall with so many other people to notice her, so her only choice was to turn around and wait for him. She stopped abruptly, quickly turning around, hoping her posture and attitude gave him a clue she didn’t want to chat about her arrest while at school, or anyplace else for that matter.

“What?” she whispered loudly. “Do you want to conduct a field sobriety test? Make me say the alphabet backward?”

Dusty lumbered and bumbled through the narrow aisle of desks, first bumping his leg, then his backpack against one desk or the other, again and again, as he hurried to talk to her. He didn’t look fazed by her snappish attitude. He was smiling again, flashing those dimples at her, looking like a good-humored, bungling giant in this crowded classroom.

Finally he stood directly in front of her. She had to look up—way up—to see his face. She could smell him, something else she hadn’t noticed last night, and he smelled good. She sniffed, closing her eyes as she breathed in his scent, a strange spicy combination of rosemary and white pepper with a trace of sandalwood. Sometimes Emma’s sensitive nose could be a blessing. This was the best thing she’d smelled in a long time—especially after her ordeal last night in the accommodations he had provided her—and his smell calmed and made her senses tingle all at once.

She opened her eyes and realized he’d been standing there watching her smell him with her eyes closed for far longer than it took to blink. How embarrassing... she thought. What is it with this guy always seeming to capture me in an awkward situation?

“I said what?” Emma snapped, having to force her voice to sound irritated.

“Umm... I just wanted to say sorry. You know, for umm... having to arrest you last night,” he said sheepishly. “But it is my job. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of arrogance or superiority that she would assume would come from a cop facing someone they’d had to use their power against, costing that person God only knows how much. But all she saw was friendliness with maybe a little regret. She decided to let him off the hook. She was no fan of drunk drivers either and still couldn’t believe she now was one. She knew it was her own fault and took full responsibility.

She gave him a small smile—a closed-mouth smile with no teeth but still a smile—and a slight nod.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you? Umm... for what?” he asked, confused.

“Thank you for apologizing. It won’t make a difference in the long run. Or on my day in court. But thank you for being sorry.”

Emma watched his face transform from confused to hopeful, and instantly regretted her answer. She could feel it coming.

“Oh. Okay. Well, umm, you want to get a coffee or something?”

Bam. There it was: the pick-up line. She couldn’t believe it. He actually thought an apology would get him a hook-up? Seriously? Even if he hadn’t been the cop that arrested her, she still wasn’t interested. She had no time for chatting and sipping overpriced coffee while trying to blend into the cool crowd. She wasn’t like most of the college crowd. She had obligations... and her studies and a job. But right now at the top of her list was the latest family crisis to deal with. Besides, if he really knew her, he wouldn’t be asking her out. He was way out of her league. She could feel the discomfort by the warm flush creeping up her neck.

“Umm...” she said, hiding her own embarrassment by mimicking his irritating repetitive “um’s,” and pasting a big fake smile on her face. “That would be a no.”

She watched his face transform back from hopeful to confused, and walked off leaving him standing there, feeling a bit bad about the hard letdown, but she didn’t know this guy and didn’t want to. He would just find out later he was too good for her. Over the last few years, she’d found it was best to be quick about it—and even a little mean. It kept them from asking again, and her having to go through the same awkwardness of saying no. Or worse, saying yes, only to be embarrassed by someone running into them and reminding her that she was “that girl.”

But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was very different from that girl. But until she actually graduated college and really accomplished something, she didn’t feel like she could convince anyone else. She no longer living in that crappy trailer, unaware of what was going on around her because she was drunk, but she still felt like she had to do more to prove herself to be someone new. That girl was long gone, but not forgotten in this small town.




“Dammit!”

Emma kicked the tire of her car and smacked the hood. Her driver’s door was hanging open and Dusty could see her bag thrown into the passenger seat. He thought about walking on by, after having just received that cold response from her, but he couldn’t help himself. Even off the clock... protect and serve.

“What’s the problem? Car won’t start?” he asked.

“Yes, the car started... and I drove off minutes before you got here on my way to a very important errand. That’s why you don’t see me standing here with my hood up in this friggin’ parking lot, Einstein!” Emma snapped sarcastically as she whipped around to face him.

Whoa! Again, he was seeing a handful of firecracker in this girl. He wasn’t sure whether to back away slowly and try to delete the last twenty-four hours out of his mind, or to jump in with both feet and feel the heat.

Before he could respond, Emma hung her head and apologized. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just really stressed out and tired.”

While he debated offering his help, she bent over, reaching through the driver’s door to grab her purse from the floor on the opposite side. She looked even better in jeans than she did in that little sundress she’d worn the night before; with that view, it was decided.

“Let me take a look. Maybe I can help,” he offered.

Emma dug in her purse, not finding what she was looking for right away. “No. It’s okay. I’ll call someone if I can find my damn phone.”

“I don’t mind at all. I know a little about cars,” he again offered.

Emma stopped digging for the phone and looked at him. She sucked in and then blew out a deep breath. “Okay, if you don’t mind. I am really in a hurry and don’t have time to wait for someone to come and get me,” she answered.

Dusty dropped his backpack on the ground and walked over to peek under the hood. He poked and prodded a few things—of which he had no clue what—and hmm’d a few times for good measure. Then he stepped around Emma, slid into the driver’s seat, and attempted to start the car. He got nothing.

Emma stood with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched, seeming to be waiting for him to work some type of mechanical magic usually reserved for all guys—or so that’s what the ladies usually thought.

He stepped out and gave Emma a very serious look.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked nervously and then chewed on her lip, waiting for the diagnosis.

Dusty almost came undone watching her chew that lip again.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said. “The good news is I have a perfectly good-running car right there across the parking lot and I’ll be happy to run you to your errand if you’re in a hurry. The bad news is I don’t know shit about cars.”

Emma tilted her head and blew out her breath in a grunt at him and then laughed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he answered meekly, giving her a half smile, surprised to finally hear the sound of her laugh and hoping for her forgiveness for his lack of manly mechanical skills. He really did want to help; this wasn’t another attempt to hook up with Emma. He would’ve tried to help anyone—but cars were not his thing.

“Okay. You’re a cop, so I’m assuming I can trust you. I really do need to get to my sister’s house in a hurry. And I won’t be there long. So if you could just wait for me and then bring me back here, I’ll call someone to come look at the car—someone who knows something about cars,” she added, laughing again.

“Cool. I’ll take you. No problem,” Dusty answered while walking over to slam the hood shut. He grabbed his backpack off the ground and was heading toward the other side of the parking lot in a quick walk.

Emma quickly shut the door of her car and locked it and had to run to catch up to Dusty’s long strides.

“Oh, crap,” Emma nearly shouted.

“What?”

“That’s your patrol car you’re headed for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, so?”

Emma huffed. “I don’t want to ride in a patrol car to my sister’s house. I’m in enough trouble with them as it is. If they see the car, they’ll freak out!”

“Oh. Well, that’s what I’m driving today, so if you want a ride... this is it,” he said as he made it to the car and opened the passenger door, gallantly holding his hand out as if to welcome her in.

Emma stood with her hand on her hip, looking up into the sky and shaking her head, as if the answer were there. Finally, she answered, “Okay, there shouldn’t be anyone there anyway.”

Dusty waited for her to settle in and then shut the door, moving to the other side and climbing into his own seat. He looked over at Emma, giving her a big grin, and said, “Click it or ticket!”

“Very funny,” Emma answered as she yanked the seatbelt and clicked it in place. “You’re off duty. You can’t ticket me.”

“Yep. I can, actually,” he answered with a wink.





“So... let me get this straight,” Dusty said. “You’re going into your sister’s house—not the one that picked you up at the station—but her twin, to raid her husband’s closet, and you have to hurry and do it before she gets home?”

“That’s right, Officer Rowan,” Emma answered distractedly while texting Gabby to see if she was still at work.

“Call me Dusty. And why is this seeming more like a breaking and entering, and possibly theft, than the urgent errand you originally led me to believe? Does your boyfriend not have enough money to buy his own clothes?” Dusty asked, trying to pull the information out of Emma as they were making their way up Gabby’s street.

Emma’s phone chirped. She quickly read the text and breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool, she’s still at work. Come on, it’s the next driveway on the right.”

“Again, Emma. Before we... I mean you—definitely you—do this, can you explain a little more to me?”

Emma knew she couldn’t, or shouldn’t, explain anything to Dusty about her family’s business, especially their current crisis. She would just have to give him the short version, although it wasn’t the whole truth—it would have to do.

“In a nutshell, Gabby and her husband, Jake, were in a terrible car crash a few months ago. She had a head injury and has been diagnosed with PTSD. Some days she’s fine, but not many. She’s grieving for him and teetering on the edge. Since she got out of the hospital, she refuses to listen to reason—she functions, and she went back to work where she does okay there too, but she’s still in denial. Our family has been told by her doctor to stop trying to reason with her for now, just try to be supportive and keep a close eye on her,” Emma explained, hoping it would be enough to stop any more questions.

“That still doesn’t answer why you’re going to take her husband’s clothes.”

“Well... she has all his stuff just sitting there. We’re just taking out a few things at a time. Some sweatpants and basketball shorts and a couple of T-shirts. Trust me, he has a lot more. Gabby won’t even miss them,” Emma answered.

The car rolled to a stop outside Gabby’s house. Emma reached for the door handle when she felt Dusty’s hand on her arm. She looked back at him only to see the same determined look she saw last night when he’d finally told her she was being arrested.


“Emma, wait. Even if this is your sister’s house, I cannot just let you go in there and steal her dead husband’s stuff. That’s not only illegal; it’s just not right,” he said very solemnly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

Emma cringed at the “dead husband” part and closed her eyes as a wave of grief washed over her. She was so screwing this up and digging herself a hole with this guy.

“No, you’re confused. I’m not stealing them! I’m just... moving them... Look, it’s complicated.”

“This still doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Look, Officer Rowan, I’m not doing anything illegal—or immoral. My family knows, and I’m not the only one doing it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call my sister Olivia and let you listen in. Hang on a second.”

Emma frantically pulled her phone out and dialed Olivia. Turning it once to Dusty, so he could see the “Twinnie #1” contact name as it popped up, she then put it on speaker and could hear it ringing. Hurry up, Olivia. Pick up! I really need to hurry here. Gabby’s house was off the road quite a bit, but if someone came by to deliver something or check on Gabby—as neighbors had been frequently doing lately—they might see the patrol car in her driveway and mention it to her.

“Hello?”

“Olivia! It’s Emma. Look... I’ve got you on speakerphone and need you to answer a question or two. Just answer yes or no, okay?”

“Okay,” Olivia said hesitantly.

“Okay. Is Gabby grieving for Jake?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Emma. What kind of question is that? You know she is! What’s wrong with you?”

“Olivia! I have you on speakerphone. I said to answer just yes or no... I’ll explain later.”

“YES!” her oldest and usually most patient twin sister said and let out a tired sigh.

“And does Gabby still have all Jake’s clothes just as he left them, and do we take turns taking—I mean moving—some of them, and is it my turn to do a grab while Gabby’s at work?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. What is this about, Emma?”

“I gotta go... Love you, bye.”

Emma had been watching Dusty during the call. Now he just shook his head, giving up.

“All right, go, then.”

Emma scrambled out of the car and jogged to Gabby’s front door. She looked over her shoulder to see if Dusty was watching before finding the hidey spot where they kept their extra key. Olivia had made a copy of hers so everyone could get in to check on Gabby in case of an emergency, and they kept it hidden well. She didn’t trust Dusty to know where it was—even if he was a cop. There were only a few people on this earth she did trust, and that was her family.

She got the door open and looked back to see Dusty was watching now. She gave him a one-finger salute—not that finger... the other one—indicating she would be back in a minute. Once in the house, she hurried into Gabby and Jake’s room and snatched several things, rolling them up as fast as she could into neat bundles. She swiped a grocery bag from the laundry room bag holder and shoved the clothes in, then hurried back out the front to lock up. She was in and out in less than five minutes and pulling away from Gabby’s street in record time.

“Thanks so much. You can take me back to my car now. I’ll call someone to take a look at it,” Emma said. “I really appreciate the ride though.”

“I already called a buddy of mine. He does know something about cars. He’s meeting us there and picking up a new battery on the way—just in case.”

“When did you call him?” Emma asked, confused.

“I texted him when you were in your sister’s house. Told him we got nothing when we turned the key. He said it may be a dead battery. If it’s not, he can take it right back, no problem.”

“Wow. Thanks, I guess. How much is this guy going to charge me?”

“Nothing. He owes me a favor. If you can afford to, just reimburse him for the battery—if it works. If you can’t, I’ll pay him,” Dusty offered.

“No way. I can definitely pay for the battery. I just hope that’s all it is.”

Emma was starting to get nervous now. All she needed was a huge car repair bill on top of a DUI arrest. She’d had to call out of work tonight because she’d been too tired, so she’d have a short check this week anyway.





“Dust... my man! How ya been, dude?”

“I’m good, man. How are you and the family?” Dusty answered as he climbed out of his patrol car to shake the dirty hand of the smiling man sitting on Emma’s hood. Emma watched their hands, noticing the blaring differences. Dusty’s was large and clean, while Jump’s were thin, rawboned, the creases in the skin pitch-black with layers of oil.

“Aww, you know, dude. They’re all cool,” Jump answered, hiding his eyes with stringy brown hair that was too long and flopped forward when he tilted his head down. “Let’s pop the hood on this baby and see what’s going on,” the man said, still smiling.

The smile never left his face, even when he was talking. Now this is one friendly guy, Emma thought while looking him over.

“Emma, this is Jump. He’s the best guy I know to work on cars. Loves his job, too.”

“Hi, Jump,” Emma said apprehensively. She wasn’t sure if this was a joke on her or if his name really was Jump—and if so, why?

“Hiya, sweetie. Nice to meecha. Pass your keys to Dust, wouldja?” Jump said while leaning on one foot, then the other, kind of teeter tottering in place, as if he couldn’t stand still, and his eyes didn’t stay too long in one place either, dodgy-like.

Wow, he talks fast, Emma thought as she dug through her purse and found her keys, tossing them to Dusty, who climbed in to pop the latch and get the key into the ignition, awaiting instructions. He looked at Emma and winked, after they both watched Jump dive under the hood so fast it looked like he was searching for gold.

“Okay, Dust! Turn her over.”

Dusty turned the key and nothing happened.

Jump fiddled with something again and yelled out, “Again, Dust.”

Dusty turned the key again. Nothing.

“Cool. Not a problem, dude. Her battery’s just shot. I brought you one,” Jump said as he practically hopped to his truck, reached in, and hopped back to Emma’s car, carrying a battery, in about twenty seconds flat.

“See why we call him Jump?” Dusty asked and laughed as Jump dove right back into unhooking the old battery and putting in the new one.

“There you go. Give her a whirl now, Dust,” Jump instructed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Dusty reached again for the key, turning it, and to Emma’s relief, her car started.

“Thank you, Jump! And you too, Dusty!” she babbled. “I can’t believe how fast all that was. Jump, can I get your number in case I ever have car problems again?”

Jump’s smile left his face for the first time. He looked at Dust, shaking the hair out of his eyes, then back at Emma, his face reddening to the tips of his ears.

“Your boy Dust has my number. You need me, he can find me,” Jump said while fast-trotting to his own car one space over.

Before Emma could get any money out of her purse to give him, he was gone—in a flash. She watched, flabbergasted, as he tore out of the parking lot, speeding like a demon, right in front of Dusty. Hello... a cop!


“I should have warned you. Jump is a bit, umm... jumpy,” Dusty said. “He kinda works for the PD on the side, helping us out on tips here and there. I wouldn’t be worried about the money for the battery if he wasn’t. That means he probably didn’t pay for it. But don’t let him fool you. He’s a great guy, crazy about his kids... has three of his own. He’s got a heart of gold, but a... kinda nervous soul, if you know what I mean.”

Emma laughed. Now she understood. Big smile, fast-talking, and the jittery foot hopping. Jump was a narc—an informant. She’d seen the television shows. The narcs were usually users themselves, hoping to rack up enough points with the PD to keep themselves out of jail.

Obviously, Jump had been caught unprepared when Dusty had called, but he came anyway—jacked up.