Hurt (3 page)

“Nana, you don’t live in a prison. Golden Meadows is not a prison and you know it. It’s a lovely retirement home, and you have a very nice room there.”

“You can call it by whatever pretty name you want to, the fact is the place is a prison, and
you
know it,” her grandmother said sharply.

“It’s not a prison,” Nicole repeated.

“Are there locks on the windows keeping me from crawling out?”

“Oh for the love of God, why would you want to crawl out a window?”

“Do they have armed guards walking around telling you what you can and cannot do?”

“You mean the nurses, Nana? You know they aren’t armed.”

“And have you seen the slop they try to pass off as food? Last night at supper, I swear to God, the spaghetti crunched.”

“Nana, I don’t really want to get into this again. You know you can’t live by yourself anymore. And Golden Meadows is the top-rated assisted living home in Chattanooga. Can’t we just have a nice meal and talk about something else?”

“Crunch, crunch, crunch…as a matter of fact, poor Mrs. Robinacci broke a tooth out of her dentures. Snapped it right off.” Nana sighed and waved a hand. “Well, I don’t think some fancy lettuce in a bowl constitutes a meal, but I am more than happy to let the subject drop if it makes you happy.”

“Good.”

“For now,” the elderly woman muttered under breath. “Because Lord knows, I don’t like to complain.”

Nicole sighed and shook her head. She was about to open her mouth to speak when she heard her cell phone begin to ring from inside her purse. Glancing at the number as she pulled the phone out, Nicole smiled.

“Hi Jamie.”

“Hey darlin’,” came the husky reply. “How’s it going with Nana?”

Nicole looked across the table at her grandmother, who was systematically picking out the cucumbers from her salad and sitting them on the table beside her plate.

“Oh, just fine,” she answered. “How was court?”

“Meh, it was court. So, Samuels’ daughter Miranda called earlier and she has tickets to the Vanderbilt football game this weekend. They’re playing Kentucky. Do you want to go?”

“Vanderbilt and Kentucky? Why on earth would I want to go see them play?” Nicole asked, furrowing her brow.

“Well, I know how you like football and all. I thought we could make a weekend out of it.”

“Jamie, sweetie, I went to the University of Tennessee. I have no interest whatsoever in a game between two random schools. Just because I like football, doesn’t mean that—” Nicole broke off as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “You just want to spend the weekend in Nashville, don’t you? And go to that museum. Again.”

Jamie had several little quirks and idiosyncrasies that Nicole found endearing. Her obsession with Johnny Cash was not one of them.

“I can see you’re busy with your grandmother,” Jamie said hurriedly. “We can talk about it tonight. Speaking of which, we’re on the way to the jail right now to do an interview. One of the suspects in the home invasions in Hixson got picked up last night. If it looks like we’re going to run late, I’ll call you.”

“Okay, be careful. And, don’t think you’re going to be able to sweet talk me into going to Nashville this weekend.”

“Love you. And tell Nana I said hello,” Jamie replied before abruptly ending the call.

Nicole grumbled under her breath as she dropped the phone back into her purse. She looked up to see Nana staring at her.

“Who was that?” her grandmother asked suspiciously.

“It was just Jamie, Nana. She said to tell you hello.”

“Jamie? I don’t know anyone named Jamie.”

“Here you go,” the waitress said, arriving at the table with their pizza. “Anything else I can get you ladies?”

“No, this all looks good. Thanks,” Nicole responded. As the waitress left to attend to another table, Nicole slid a hot slice of cheese pizza onto a plate and handed it to her grandmother.

“You do know Jamie,” Nicole continued as she bit into her own slice of pizza. “My girlfriend.”

Nana chewed thoughtfully on a bite of pizza and then sucked in on her bottom lip.

“I remember a Carol,” her grandmother said finally.

Nicole stilled at the mention of her ex-girlfriend’s name. It’d been more than three years since they’d broken up, and while Nicole had moved on and found more happiness than she’d ever thought possible with Jamie, the subject of Carol was still a sensitive one. She had a sudden flash of memory—getting off early from work, walking into the apartment they’d shared on the north side of town, finding Carol in bed with another woman. Nicole shook her head, pushing back the bitter memory, and narrowed her eyes at her grandmother.

“Nana, you know Carol has been out of the picture for years,” Nicole said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “You remember Jamie. Just a few days ago she brought you those flowers you have sitting on the windowsill back at your room.”

The older woman pursed her lips.

“The tall police woman?”

“Yes,” Nicole answered, nodding. “The tall police woman.”

“Oh. I wondered who that was. I thought maybe that bitch of a nurse called the police on me for throwing apple sauce at her.”

I don’t even want to know
, Nicole thought as her grandmother continued. “And are you still dating girls? I’d thought you would’ve outgrown that by now.”

“No, I haven’t outgrown girls, Nana. Don’t be ridiculous.” Nicole took another bite of pizza. “And I don’t date girls, Nana. I date women. One woman. Jamie.”

Nana sucked in on her bottom lip again.

“Well, I suppose you’re going to do what you’re going to do.”

“Pretty much,” Nicole answered.

“Live and let live, I always say. If you’d rather be with a woman than some nice, handsome man, then that’s your decision.”

“Not that it matters, but I’m happy you feel that way Nana.”

“Because Lord knows I am not one to harp on things.”

“Fantastic.”

“I’ve got better things to do with my time than sit around and point out what you are or aren’t doing right with your life.”

“That’s great.”

“I know a smart woman such as yourself doesn’t need some old woman telling her what to do,” Nana said, cutting her pizza with a knife and fork.

Nicole looked at her grandmother and then took a long sip of Diet Coke before she spoke.

“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that straightened out.”

“Panties!”

Nicole somehow managed not to drop her glass on the table as her grandmother said the word like a declaration of war.

“What?”

“Panties. You asked me if I needed anything from the store before you take me back to the prison. I need panties. Somebody’s been stealing mine.”

“Nana, who would be stealing your—never mind,” Nicole said, waving her hand in the air. That was a question that she really didn’t want to hear answered. “We’ll stop by the store on the way back.”

Chapter Four

Jamie strode into the West Annex building of the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office, careful to walk around the throng of people congregated in and around the main entranceway. The West Annex housed everything from the Investigations Division to departmental training offices to the patrol headquarters for the west side of the county, so there always seemed to be a mass of people coming or going. Some days were worse than others, and today was one of those days.

Placing a protective hand over her coffee, Jamie turned to avoid a large handcuffed man pushing back at two uniformed officers and headed down the side hallway to Investigations. She nodded hello to a few officers she was friendly with as she passed by them, and then walked to the small grouping of desks that sat on the far end of the large, open squad room. She sat the tall coffee down on her desk as she slid into a mid-back office chair with cracked black leather and one arm that stayed permanently higher than the other. Samuels sat in the desk opposite hers, and Jamie smiled as she heard him speaking on the phone.

“Yes, ma’am, we want to do everything we can to get your lawn mower back as well. I appreciate you emailing me the pictures of your husband mowing the lawn with it, but, to be honest, without a serial number or a brand name or some sort of distinctive description it’s going to be difficult to locate,” Samuels said, rubbing his eyes as he spoke. “Yes, ma’am, I realize that, but ‘green’ is not a brand. Okay. Okay, I will definitely let you know if and when we get any leads.” He hung the phone up and glared across the desk at Jamie, who was openly chuckling.

“Fighting crime at its grass roots, I see,” Jamie commented as she turned on her computer.

“Oh, shut up,” Samuels grumbled. “I’m tempted to go buy that woman a lawn mower—a green one—and take it over to her, just so she’ll stop calling me.”

Jamie laughed as she opened a file on her computer desktop and pulled up the report on the home invasion suspect she and Samuels had just interviewed. Home invasions were, thankfully, few and far between, but simple property crimes like the theft of lawn mowers and weed eaters left unattended in someone’s front yard were a daily occurrence. Almost always untraceable, lawn equipment was easy pickings for a thief looking to score a few dollars at one of the two dozen or so pawn shops in town. Jamie learned early on in her career that Samuels despised being assigned such cases and the endless footwork and phone calls that came with them, saying that they were nothing more than a distraction from ‘real police work’. She’d long ago given up arguing with him that while a lawn mower may only cost a couple hundred dollars it was still someone’s property and should be handled with the same diligence as, say, a burglary. Now she was content with simply goading him whenever one such case fell on his desk.

“Just go shopping on your own time. I’d like to finish getting this report typed up so I can off a decent hour tonight. I told Nicole we’d go out for dinner. I’ve been wanting to try that new Mexican restaurant down by McKenzie Arena.”

“Do you even own a stove? You eat out more than anyone I know. I’m surprised there’s anywhere left in town that you haven’t tried.”

“Whatever,” Jamie muttered. She sat back in her chair and leveled her eyes at her partner. “So, what did you think of our guy at the jail?”

Samuels snorted.

“I don’t think he’s smart enough to tie his own shoe, let alone plan and commit three home invasions on his own.”

“I agree,” Jamie said. “We definitely have enough to tie him to them, though. I say we give him a couple days to stew in jail and then see if he’s up for a making deal to roll over on his buddies.”

She popped the lid on her coffee and took a long sip.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Samuels said and then wrinkled his noise. “What in God’s name are you drinking?”

“Coffee,” Jamie said as she began typing on her computer.

“The hell you say, that is not coffee.”

“It is coffee. Pumpkin spice latte.”

“Jesus. That’s not coffee,” Samuels declared. He shook his head as he opened the top drawer to his desk and began rifling through it.

“It’s a helluva lot better than that sludge you drink,” Jamie replied. She knew how Samuels felt about her minor addiction to flavored coffees—it was in his top five of ‘things to complain about’—but chose to ignore it. “You’re lucky,” she added with a smirk. “I wanted the chocolate peppermint, but they were out.”

“God save me,” he muttered before abruptly stopping and looking up from his desk. “Oh, Megan Riley called.”

“And?”

“She said it looks like the case is going to extend out into next week. The defense is bringing in their own ballistic expert to say the bullets in Thompson’s gun weren’t the ones that hit the victims.”

“You know, if that kid’s parents had spent half as much time and money on getting him off the drugs in the first place, there wouldn’t be a need for a lawyer now,” Jamie said, shaking her head.

“Hey Tate!” Jamie suddenly heard one of the other investigators shout out as he entered the squad room. “You got company,” he said, motioning to the slender, dark-haired woman in a short black skirt trailing along behind him.

“Okay, thanks,” she called back as she saved and closed the computer file she was working on.

“Company, huh?” Samuels said. Jamie opted to ignore the avidly curious look he was giving her.

“Yes, company. I do have friends, you know,” she replied as she stood and walked past him, choosing not to linger for the smartass comeback she was sure would be coming. Jamie waved at the woman and motioned for her to follow her into one of the empty interrogation rooms.

“Well, this certainly is an…interesting place you work, Jamie,” Gina Southerland remarked in a slow, South Georgia drawl as she stepped into the room.

“Never a dull moment,” Jamie replied, closing the door behind her. “I appreciate you coming down here to meet with me. I know it’s a little outside the norm.”

The brunette gave a sugary sweet smile and shook her head.

“Not a problem at all. I’m more than happy to accommodate a potential client. And I understand from what you said on the phone that you want to keep our little transaction secret from Nicole?”

Jamie nodded.

“That’s right.” As a matter of fact, she was fairly certain that if Nicole knew she was meeting with Gina Southerland, Nicole’s chief competitor, she would take her head off. While she knew that Nicole could run rings around Gina in the real estate market, this was one particular transaction—as Gina had called it—that Nicole needed to stay in the dark about. “From what I’ve heard Nicole say, the real estate market is picking back up.”

“It certainly is,” Gina said with an over-exaggerated nod. “I think you’ve chosen an excellent time to sell. Nice two bedrooms in that neighborhood are at a premium right now. I’ve got the paperwork we talked about on the phone right here, if you’d like to look over everything.” She reached into the leather attaché case she carried over one shoulder and pulled out a manila folder. She laid the folder on the small metal desk that sat in the center of the room and opened it, setting aside the top two pages of paper. “These are the ones that you’ll need to sign.”