Complicated Matters (16 page)

   “I’m not sure if they’ll allow that.”

   “You had better hope they do. Because if I have to see a shrink, so do you. Consider it a date. Two loonies on the road to recovery.”

   Taylor sat back down in the chair. “Your choice.” 

   She stared at his belt buckle. A black guitar surrounded by a silver plated background. “That belt buckle suits you.”

   “Are you sure that’s all you’re looking at?”

   Her face suddenly felt hot. “Jerk.” She turned around wishing she could slap him.

   “Go do what ever got you out of that bed. I’ll wait on your counselor.” He took off his jacket and dropped it onto a chair. 

   Real clothes. Another sign he was free to leave whenever he chose. 

   “Your mom put some clothes in your closet.”

   She turned around. “Really?”

   “Yeah. You might consider putting them on unless you like that backless nightgown look.” He smiled. “Keep it on if you want. It works for me.”

  
He noticed my backside? He likes it?
Heat covered her face and neck.
That doesn’t make him a good man. It only makes him more like Ted.
She ran to the closet and grabbed a Wal-Mart bag. “You’ve just been downgraded from jerk to pig.” 

   “Really?”

   She turned around and clenched both her fists. One still held the bag. “Yes.” 

   “Then I should enjoy the downgrade.” He picked up one her magazines. “Let’s see what stories you’ve been reading.” 

   “You--” She tried to snatch the magazine away, but he was quicker.

   “True Confessions?” He flipped through a few pages and laughed. “My Captor, My Lover.” He fanned himself with the magazine. “Oh Farrah, I would’ve never guess you were into stuff like this.”

   She waved her fists in the air and growled, “You infuriating ass,” before heading to the showers.

   *

   A hot shower and real clothes, black t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts, put her in the mood for a civil conversation. At least she felt nearly equal to Taylor now. Instead of going back to her bed, she grabbed a chair and pulled it a few feet away from him. “Who’s holding down the fort back home?”

   He continued looking at the magazine. “I’m assuming your parents.” 

   The page depicted a busty woman in a negligee.

   Farrah slumped down.
I’ll never grow boobs like that.
“I’m talking about your fort, not mine.”

   “Most of the riff-raff’s behind bars. I’ve got a reliable deputy keeping an eye on things.” He closed the magazine and turned on the television. “News, reality shows, and soap operas.” He shook his head and threw up his good hand. “It’s confirmed, I am officially in hell. I gotta get out of here.”

   “My counselor will be here in about an hour.” She tossed the magazine in the trash. “Are you planning on going back to Miami once this is over?”

   He paced across the room. “This isn’t working.”

   His behavior seemed odd even for him.
Perhaps the psych ward is making him crazy.
“What’s not working? The case?” She wanted to say us, but there was no us. There was only him and her. Soon, there would only be her. “Is it Morgansville?” Of course it was Morgansville. Someone like him would need ‘round the clock distractions. The kind of distractions she couldn’t provide.

   He put back on his jacket. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

   Once he was gone, she retrieved the magazine from the wastepaper basket. The woman with the big boobs seemed to mock her. 

   She walked into the bathroom and pulled her t-shirt tight around her chest.
B-cup. That chick’s at least a double-D.
She tried to imagine herself with boobs that big. She frowned.
Those watermelons wouldn’t even fit my frame. 

  
His wife’s breasts weren’t that big. Maybe she knew things I don’t.
Farrah grimaced.
Who doesn’t know more than me? Even Torrie with her perky pompoms has more experience. Slut
.

   She thought about the night he tried to teach her to play the guitar. His scent. The heat from his body. The way his skin felt against hers.
Strong fingers trying to guide her. Guidance. That’s exactly what I need. But does he have the patience to teach? 

   She watched the wall clock tick off the time.

   Thirty-five minutes later, he returned with two double cheeseburgers.

   Farrah inhaled the aroma of the fast food. “You are a god among men.” 

   He grinned revealing the dimples that made him so incredibly sexy, yet completely approachable. “Who said anything about sharing?”

   “You’d eat that in front of me too, wouldn’t you?” Farrah poked out her lip.

   He put the cheeseburger bag behind his back. “Promise me, you’ll talk to the counselor.” 

   “Done.” She ducked behind him and snatched the bag away.

   “You little cheat.”

   “In basketball, it’s called stealing.”

   “It’s called that in real life too.”

  
I finally one-upped him. Yes!
She flopped back on her bed. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I was feeling when I realized I had just killed someone?”

   “I don’t have to.” Taylor sat in a chair next to Farrah’s bed. “I saw the look on your face.”

   “Okay, hot-shot.” She unwrapped the cheeseburger. “What do you think I was feeling?” 

   “You were scared, sick, confused, mortified, and every other bad feeling in Pandora’s Box.” He opened his meal and started eating. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.” 

   She folded her legs campfire style. “Does that feeling ever go away?” 

   “I hope not.” He stared at the floor. “Those feelings are the only thing that separates the people who will kill if they have to, from the ones kill because they want to.” 

   “Was it like that for you?”

   He continued to look down. “Every time I fire my weapon.” 

   She knelt down so he would have to look at her. “Then why do you do it?” 

   “I don’t know.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his eyes. “Maybe I have a superman complex. Maybe it’s because they never found Raf’s killer.”

   “What would you do if you found that person?”

   “I don’t know.” Taylor shook his head. “I’d like to think I’d bring him in. But the truth is, it would be hard for me not to kill him myself. Perhaps any of us can go bad. I certainly never saw a cold-blooded killer in Jarrod Winthrop. That’s a Pandora’s box I don’t want to even think about opening.”

   She got up and went back to her bed. “Is that what scares you the most?” 

   “No,” he laughed. “That would be getting shrinked by you.”

   He put down his burger and crossed the room.

   She moved over so he could join her.

   Instead of sitting down, he leaned over and started tickling her ribs.

   “You jerk,” she squealed flailing her arms and legs.

   He continued tickling her. “You mean I’ve been upgraded?” 

   “Not by much.”

   “Good.” He kept up the attack. “There’s not reason for me to stop.” 

   She pushed him away trying to catch her breath.

   “It’s okay.” He sat down and held her. “Just breathe.”

   She closed her mouth and sucked in air through her nose. Then she let it out through her mouth.

   “That’s it.” He rubbed her back. “Slow and easy.”

   He was sitting next to her on the bed. One hand on her back and the other in a sling. His face only centimeters from hers. 

   She touched the side of his face. It felt smooth under her fingertips.

   He brushed his lips against hers.

   She gasped.

   He stood up and backed away. “I’m sorry. That should’ve--”

   “Don’t.” She touched her lips with her fingertips still reeling over the spark he ignited. “Don’t say it should’ve never happened.”

   He took a step closer.

   Someone knocked on the door. The timing couldn’t have been lousier. They both jumped.

   Taylor went back to his chair.

   In walked a short, balding man in a white lab coat. “Hello, Farrah.”

   She lowered her head. “Hi, Dr. Parker.”

   He took the empty chair. “How are you feeling today?”

   “Okay, I guess.” Things were far from okay. “This is my friend, Heath. I mean, Special Agent Taylor.”

   Dr. Parker extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Heath.”

   “Hi.” He got up. “Play nice now.” He moved across the room and kissed her on top of the head. “Remember, Pandora managed to hang on to hope. Gotta go.”

   “I thought you were staying for the session.”

   “I said I would wait on your counselor. I waited. He’s here. I’m gone. Bye now.” He headed for the door. “Good luck, Doc.”

   Dr. Parker sat down and took out a notepad. “What was that all about?” 

   “Cute guys with smart-assed attitudes.” Farrah finished her cheeseburger, and crushed the wrapper into a ball. “Three points,” she yelled as she tossed the paper ball into the trashcan halfway across the room.

   “That might have been worth more than three points. Do you find the agent attractive?”

   She nearly went into shock. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

   “If you can feel one emotion, perhaps you’re ready to explore others. Do find Special Agent Taylor attractive?”

   “You’re not a normal doctor, are you?”

   He tugged at his wire-framed glasses. “You’re avoiding the question.”

   “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

   The doctor continued taking notes. “Do you find him charming too?” 

   “Nope. But he--” Farrah thought for a second. “He’s so aggravating he’s actually kind of fun to hang out with.” She grinned for a few seconds. “And don’t ask me how that makes me feel, because I don’t know.” She got up and stretched her back and legs.
    “I wasn’t going to. How did it feel when you shot former sheriff Daniels?”

    Farrah flinched. “You’re certainly direct today.”

   “You still haven’t answered my question.”

   “I felt sick and sorry. I still feel that way. Every time I shut my eyes, I see his face just as the bullet hit him. If that makes me a complete psycho, then I guess I’m just stuck here.”

   “Actually I’d be more worried if you weren’t sick with nightmares.” He wrote something more in his notebook closed it. “I’m not big on tranquilizers, but I am going to recommend you attend group therapy. Call your parents, Miss Mathews. You are going home tomorrow.”

   “That’s it?” She started smiling. “I’m free?”

   “Do you think you’re well enough to face the world?”

   “Man, am I ever.” She erupted into full blown hysterical laughter.

   A nurse rushed into the room. “Is everything okay, Dr. Parker?”

   “I just told my patient she’s being released.” He told the nurse. “You really have to lighten up, Nurse Turner. He got up and escorted the nurse to the door. “Not every bout of hysteria is bad.” 

   He turned back to Farrah. “Checkout time is ten AM. Good luck, Miss Mathews. I sincerely hope you get your life back on track.”

   Once Dr. Parker and the nurse left, Farrah placed a call to her parents. 

   “Hello?” 

   “Mom, can you pick me up tomorrow? I’m getting released.”

   “Sure, sweetie. What time?”

   “Check out’s at ten in the morning. But can you come early and bring me some clean clothes?” 

   “Sure, honey. I’ll be there.”

   “Thanks, Mom.” Farrah hung up the phone and flipped through the basic cable.
Heath was right, this is hell.

   Chapter 20

   Taylor went back to his office. Something about this was too easy. Where in the hell are the drugs? The mules were hauling the coke ten pounds at a time. Where is the main stash?  

   
He put that question out of his head long enough to look at the new deputies hired by the county commission. He wished they had let him do the hiring, but chalked it up to the fact that they didn’t trust him.

   “Let’s see who they strapped me with?” He looked through the three personnel files. 
Two men and one woman, they probably didn’t want to seem sexist.

   Gloria Freeman, twenty years old, single, no kids. Perfect.
Taylor rolled his eyes.
Fresh out of the academy. A rookie. I’ll let Bowman train her. She seems to be level headed.

  
Jeremiah Rutherford, ten years in the army as an MP. Excellent. I can work with that. No experience in law enforcement outside the military.
He frowned.
That sucks.