Chapter 5
It was late and the bar was closing. Darcy Jenkins walked there with his partner, knowing the bartender was finishing up for the night. They’d been there earlier when it was busy and had spoken with a few regulars and waitstaff. The bartender was the last one they needed to talk to.
“Time to lock the doors, gents,” the man said. He was tall and skinny with thin brown hair that would fall straight to his shoulders if it wasn’t tied back in a ponytail.
Darcy and his partner, Kyle, showed him their badges, which the bartender looked at without reaction. But he stopped wiping the bar surface.
“Detective Jenkins and Detective Morrison,” Darcy said.
“Yeah,” the bartender said. “I heard you were here asking questions. Something about a woman who was murdered?”
Kyle took out a notepad and a pen.
“Yes,” Darcy said. “She was killed two nights ago and was last seen here with a man.” Kyle showed the bartender pictures of the woman. “Do you recognize her?”
The bartender shook his head. “Naw, man. I was working that night, but I serve a lot of people in here.”
“We’re trying to find out the name of the man she was with.” Beside him, Kyle jotted a note down. Probably something like “another dead end.”
“Her sister said she’d gone on a date but couldn’t tell us the man’s name,” Kyle said. “They’d just met. Are you sure you don’t recognize her?”
His partner didn’t talk much, but he was getting frustrated with this investigation. Both of them feared it would wind up in the cold case files. Kyle had moved here from Detroit to get away from his ex-wife.
The bartender shook his head and resumed wiping down the bar. “Sorry, man. I wish I did. There is someone who might be able to help you, though. You haven’t talked to her yet. She’s a regular here and sat at the table next to the couple you’re talking about. The waitress for that section told me after you questioned her. She didn’t think it was important or she would have mentioned it to you. When we talked, I realized who sat at the table next to the couple.”
Darcy nodded, a new glimmer of hope emerging. Maybe the woman had heard something.
Right after the bartender said the woman’s name, a high-pitched scream penetrated the walls. It came from above, on the second level.
Darcy looked with the other two toward the sound. There was a doorway beyond the end of the bar that must lead to the second level.
“What’s upstairs?” Darcy asked.
“Owner lives up there.”
Another scream followed by something crashing to the floor propelled Darcy into motion. The door was metal and locked.
The bartender knew where the owner kept a spare key and gave it to Darcy, who unlocked it and ran up a narrow, filthy stairway that turned at a landing and ended at another door. It, too, was locked. Still holding the key ring from the other door, Darcy tried the other keys. The last of the remaining two unlocked the door.
Dropping the keys, Darcy took out his gun and followed his partner inside. The upper-level apartment was warehouse-style. A large open space accommodated all of the rooms. The kitchen was adjacent to where he and his partner entered, living room to the right. Ahead was a bedroom and a closed-off area where the bathroom must be.
“Get off me!” a woman shouted.
Near the king-sized bed covered with a leopard print comforter, the blond-haired woman struggled beneath a big man on a bearskin rug.
“Stop!” she screamed.
The man had her pinned to the floor. A lamp lay broken at their feet. There was a torn red blouse on the bed, a jean skirt next to it. The man had just removed her bra and all that remained were her underwear.
Darcy and his partner rushed inside.
“Raleigh Police,” Darcy’s partner yelled. “Hands in the air!”
“Get off the woman and put your hands up!” Darcy ordered.
The man stopped and turned his head, disbelief frozen on his face.
The woman still struggled beneath him, trying to break free of his heavy weight.
“Get off her!” Darcy commanded, stepping forward with his gun aimed at the man’s head.
“What the...? How did you get in here?”
“Get off her,” Darcy’s partner repeated the command. He was just as big as the man on top of the woman.
The man moved off the woman, who scrambled to her feet, holding her hands over her breasts, beginning to cry and breathing erratically.
While his partner cuffed the man and told him his rights, Darcy went to the woman, picking up her skirt on the way. After handing it to her, he found a sweatshirt in an armoire and offered it to her. Fright still hadn’t left her blue eyes. She was about five-six and in pretty good shape, enough to put up a good fight.
“I’m Detective Darcy Jenkins and that’s my partner, Kyle Morrison.”
Trembling, she meekly thanked him and donned the sweatshirt first, then slipped into the skirt. While she dressed, he went into the kitchen and found a cloth, which he dampened with cold water.
Darcy handed her a pair of shoes he’d found on the floor, three-inch red pumps. She took them but didn’t put them on. Guiding her to the living-room area, he sat next to her on a black leather sofa and handed her the cloth.
“What’s your name?” he gently asked, taking out a small notebook and pen from his front pants pocket. Both he and his partner carried them.
“Avery Fletcher,” she said, dabbing her swelling lip where blood oozed a little.
She was an attractive woman. He could see that through her runny mascara and injuries. A bruise was beginning to form on her arm.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Shaking her head, more earnest sobs released from her. Her hands still trembled.
He looked around for some tissues. Getting up, he left his notebook on the sofa and went into the bathroom and retrieved some toilet paper when he couldn’t find any.
Darcy went back to Avery and handed her the tissue, sitting beside her again. “You’re safe now.”
She held the wad of tissue to her face as she cried.
More police arrived as he returned to the sofa, along with paramedics. The warehouse apartment filled with uniformed people. Darcy watched Kyle hand over the would-be rapist to some other officers. He was taken away.
Three paramedics came over to Avery. Darcy waited while they briefly examined her.
“I’m okay,” she told them, and then turned to Darcy. “Thanks to him and his partner.”
Keeping the warmth her appreciation instilled at bay, he said, “I need to ask you some questions. Is that all right?”
Normally when he arrived at a crime scene, it was to a dead body. Sitting here talking to a live victim was refreshing, and more. He wasn’t sure if it was the refreshment or the beautiful woman that elicited the warmth, but an analysis of that would have to wait.
Darcy picked up his notebook and pen. “Let’s start from the beginning. How did you end up here tonight?”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Best if we get the information now, while it’s still fresh in your mind,” he said. “It’ll help with the charges we’re going to file against him.”
Without looking at him, she nodded. “I met him in the bar a few weeks ago.”
“You’ve known him for a while?” He began to write notes.
“Not very well. The first night I came here he introduced himself. We talked for about an hour. And then he asked if I’d come back. I said I would and I did about a week later. We talked again, this time for a longer period of time. I thought he was nice.” Her head bowed as she sobbed some more.
“Men like that are experts at making women believe they’re nice,” Darcy said, and waited for her to regain her composure.
“I met him once more before tonight. We talked all night, and then he invited me up to his apartment when the bar was starting to close. He said for a drink and more conversation. He didn’t seem to expect anything.”
She tried to control her crying.
“You went to his apartment,” Darcy said, helping her. “Here.”
“Yes. And he gave me a glass of wine.”
“Had you been drinking the whole night?” He made a note that alcohol had been involved. No surprise there. They’d met in a bar.
“I had two in the bar.”
“What about him?”
“He drank more than that.”
Darcy bet he had. “How much more?” He’d be tested during the arrest process.
“Um...I don’t know. Maybe four?”
“Okay. What happened after he gave you the wine?” If he’d met her anywhere else, he wouldn’t think she seemed the type to hang out in bars. She had a refined way about her.
“We talked for a few minutes and then he kissed me. I didn’t like it. I don’t know why, so I said I was going to leave. That’s when he lost it. He turned into a completely different person. He tried to talk me out of leaving, and when I kept insisting, he grew angry. At that point I knew I’d made a mistake. I tried to leave and he stopped me. I fought. He’s a big man. Strong. He tore off my blouse and removed my skirt. My shoes fell off as I fought him. I couldn’t believe what was happening. And then you came in.” She raised her head and looked at him, grateful and full of peace all of a sudden.
She had really blue eyes. Her blond hair fell softly over her shoulders, shiny and fine and thick, only slightly messy from her fight.
“If you hadn’t come along, he would have raped me.”
He didn’t know what to say. He was stymied over his attraction to her. This had never happened to him during an investigation.
“Why were you here?” she asked. “How did you know to come to his apartment? Is he wanted for something else?”
“No.” He found his voice and, cleared his throat. “We were questioning the bartender about a different case when we heard you scream.”
She stared at him. “Lucky me.”
“Yes. I’d say the timing couldn’t have been better.”
She smiled and then winced when it pulled her lip too much. She met his gaze again. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“No need to thank me. Part of the job,” he said.
“What kind of cop are you?” She checked out his shirt, tie and slacks. “No uniform.”
“I’m a special victims detective.”
“Special victims?”
“Yes.” The coincidence was uncanny. Except he didn’t believe in coincidence. “Domestic violence. Murder. Rape....”
Slowly, she nodded. “Wow.”
As the chemistry heated between them, Darcy grew uncomfortable. He was just getting over his divorce. How could he be attracted to another woman so soon? Was it her hero worship that was doing this to him?
No. It was her. She was pretty and nice.
Realizing he’d tuned out all the activity around them and that he’d stopped taking notes, Darcy quickly refocused.
“Do you come to this bar regularly?” he asked.
“No,” she scoffed. “I came here that one time with some friends after my divorce was final. It was supposed to be a celebration.”
“Ah. I had one of those myself.”
“You’re divorced?” She looked down at his hand.
“Not even a tan line.” He held up his hand for her inspection.
“I’d say congratulations but it doesn’t feel like that to me.”
“Me neither.” Why did this keep getting so personal? He was supposed to question her as a professional officer of the law. Instead, he felt as though they were about to go on a date.
“I loved my husband and I thought he loved me,” she said. “I found out he didn’t when he told me he met someone. I think that’s why I lost my ability to make good judgment.”
“Temporarily.” Her marriage had ended the same as his.
“What happened with yours?” she asked.
“Hey, Casanova,” his partner called. “Time to go.”
Glad to be spared having to talk any more about that, he glanced back at his partner.
Darcy faced Avery again. “You’ll need to go to the hospital so that your injuries are recorded.”
She nodded in understanding.
“Some officers will be there with you,” Darcy said. “The paramedics can take you if you like.” He’d offer, but his partner seemed to want to leave and this was getting too intimate for him.
“I have my car here. I can take care of that myself.”
He nodded, and then did something he normally didn’t do. He took out his business card and gave it to her—for a personal reason.
* * *
Blinking his eyes open, Darcy checked his digital clock: 3:00 a.m. His cell phone chimed the ringtone he had set for unknown callers.
Reaching over, he looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it. But it was 3:00 a.m. What if it was urgent?
He answered to the frantic sound of a woman’s voice. He couldn’t tell what she was saying.
Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he sat up. “Who is this?”
After a few panting breaths, she said, “Avery.”
Avery Fletcher, the sexual assault victim. “What’s wrong?”
He stood and went to his closet to get dressed.
“I thought I heard something. And I woke up from a dream.” She started crying.
She’d come in the day before to give her statement. More of that attraction had brewed until she’d begun answering questions, reliving her ordeal. Though she hadn’t actually been raped, she’d gone through a frightening experience.
Living alone, she was clearly having trouble adjusting to normal life.
“Do you want me to come over?” Holding the cell between his ear and shoulder, he put on jeans.
“Yes,” her fragile voice said.
“Be there in fifteen.” He finished dressing and drove fast toward her downtown apartment building. All the way there, he questioned the wisdom of doing that.
* * *
Avery let him into her top-floor apartment. High ceilings had crown molding. Gold-shaded light fixtures hung in a cluster of three over the living room. There, dark hardwood floors offset a charcoal couch with white textured pillows, checkered wingback chairs across and a gray-and-white-mosaic rug with modern coffee table between. The far wall was one large window and there were two small armchairs with a petite block table between them. The kitchen was to his left and had gold granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. No clutter.
Yesterday she’d told him she was a nurse at the University of Northern North Carolina Hospital. Not the caliber of Duke, but still ranked high. And she had a bit of a commute from here. He tried not to dwell on the coincidence that Thad was falling for a nurse, too. They were best friends, though. This could be for real.
“This is nice.”
She glanced over her living room. “I didn’t spend much on the furniture. I just like to decorate.”
It looked pricey. “Remind me never to show you my place.”
She laughed. “A true bachelor, huh?”
“Big TV. Something to sit on. Bed. Nothing on the walls.”
His wife hadn’t been much of a decorator, certainly nothing like Avery, but she’d filled the house a lot better than he could. Avery’s talent for decorating gave her more of a feminine essence, much more than his wife. Funny how it took meeting Avery to realize that.
The moment stretched on and grew awkward.
Avery was the first to break the silence. “Look. I’m really sorry I called you and made you drive all the way over here. I’m okay now. I just got scared.”
“It’s okay. Mind if I have a look around?” She’d said she’d heard something, or thought she had.
“No.” She stepped aside. “There isn’t much. This and a bathroom and bedroom down here and a loft up there.” She pointed to a railing that overlooked the living room.
He went there first. She had a desk up there and another artful set of armchairs with a table between. Double French doors led to a balcony. He checked the handle and found it locked. Downstairs, he went into her bedroom. The brown comforter with beige floral stitching was rumpled with white sheets and pillows, a teal throw near to falling off the end of the bed. There was a brown and white feinting couch angled near the window and a brown dresser with beige, round knobs adjacent to that against the wall. He stepped over frieze carpeting toward a walk-in closet. After checking that, he peered out the window. Lights illuminated a swimming pool.
Back in the living room, he saw her still standing near the entry, arms folded and one hand rubbing her arm as though she were cold.
“I feel silly,” she said.
He went to stand before her. “Don’t. You were attacked the other night. You have every right to be cautious.”
She met his eyes as she registered that he’d seen a lot of terrible things in his line of work. He’d seen what rape did to a woman. Some worse than others. And then there were the countless murders.
“Well, thank you for coming over.”
“Do you have a family member or friend who can stay with you for a while?” he asked.
“I just moved here. My husband took a job in Raleigh last year.” She averted her gaze, but he could see her disappointment at the thought.
“Where are you from?” She didn’t have a Southern accent.
“Utah. Salt Lake City. I grew up in Park City. My father ran a bar there. Popular ski town.”
“I’ve heard of it.” He liked that she came from a mountain town, small and simple.
“That’s how I met my husband. He came to Park City to ski.”
And then moved her to Salt Lake and then Raleigh.
“I met my wife at a grocery store.” He grunted a laugh. “She was buying okra. That should have been my first clue that she wasn’t right for me.”
“Ugh. Okra.” Avery made a face and waved a hand in front of her nose and mouth.
And then another awkward moment passed.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
“Sure. Might as well make it coffee.” He’d have to go in to work after this.
He followed her to the kitchen and waited while she prepared a pot of coffee.
“So, what happened with you and your wife?”
As a familiar pain gripped him, he couldn’t answer right away. She turned with cream and sugar, putting them on the kitchen island as she noticed what must be on his face. Regret. Sadness. Bitterness.
“She found someone else,” she said.
Darcy nodded. “Pretty common, I guess.”
Avery poured two cups of coffee and came to sit next to him, dumping cream and sugar into her mug. “It shouldn’t be.”
He dumped cream and sugar into his coffee, too. “I don’t want to get married again.”
It took her a bit to organize what must seem to her a blunt thing to say. She was probably wondering why he’d said it.
“Is this your first divorce?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Mine, too. But I’m not going to let it ruin the rest of my life.” She sipped her coffee and looked straight ahead. “Marriage is the least of my concerns right now. It hasn’t been long enough. I still need time.” Then she turned back to him. “Why don’t you want to get married again? I mean, how do you know you don’t want to?”
This time he faced straight ahead. “When I married my wife, I felt sure she was the one I’d spend the rest of my life with. I loved her and I believed she loved me.”
“I felt the same about my husband. That’s what makes it so hard. It’s the betrayal that hurts. You were sure, but they weren’t and never told you. They weren’t truthful with you. That’s what keeps going through my mind. Why did he marry me if he wasn’t sure?”
“Some people convince themselves that they’re sure,” he said.
“Right. Maybe your wife didn’t foresee herself being drawn to someone else. Maybe she had good intentions starting out and couldn’t admit to herself that she’d made a mistake until it was too late. I bet she never really meant to hurt you. My husband didn’t mean to hurt me. Yeah, they should have confronted the issue sooner and been open with us, but they weren’t. They made a mistake. It’s a mistake, that’s all. Getting married to us was a mistake for them.” She had a soft way of soothing his angst.
“I’m against marriage now, too,” she continued. “But someday I hope my heart heals enough to let someone else close. I’ll be a lot more careful, but someday I’d like to have what I thought I had with my husband.”
“You’re a brave woman.”
“Give it time. I bet you’ll change your mind. Especially if you meet someone who feels the same as you.”
Her words rang true between them. So far they seemed to feel exactly the same. Except about marriage. He was dead set on never exposing himself to that again.
Still, as he met Avery’s eyes, something disagreed inside of him. Resisted what his mind demanded. And that was dangerous ground for him.
He stood up. “I better get going.”
When her face sobered and she glanced around the apartment, he saw that she was still afraid.
“Maybe you should consider moving back to Utah,” he said. “You’d be close to family there.” And far away from him.
“I like it here. I like my job. I like my new apartment. I can fly to see my family.” She faced him, rubbing her arm the way she had when he’d first arrived. “I won’t let what happened chase me away.”
He understood that. Unable to move toward the door, he waited.
“This is going to sound forward,” she said, and he half expected her to say what came next, “but will you stay until morning?”
It was already morning. “Sleep on your couch?”
“No. With me. In bed.”