Solid Ground: a Wounded Love novel Page 6

  As soon as we got here, Nichole took off for the girls’ restroom to change into her swimsuit. I look around the pool to see if I can spot her, but it’s hard, trying to single anyone out in this crazy crowd of people.

  Alex nudges me, and when I turn to look at him, he nods at the high dive. “Check it out.”

  I swing my head around, taking in the girl standing at the edge of the board. She has her back toward us, her arms raised out to her sides as she bounces lightly on the balls of her feet.

  A funny thing happened this past school year. Those girls I used to run from, trying to avoid cooties, it turns out that they aren’t so bad after all. Some of them are actually kind of cute. I wish we still played that game from kindergarten. You know, the one where girls chase boys and try to kiss them. I used to run away like my life depended on it. Now, I wouldn’t mind being caught. Heck, there are a few girls I might intentionally trip and fall for.

  The girl on the diving board is one of them. I have no clue who she is, but based on what I can see, I definitely wouldn’t mind a kiss or two from her. Her small bikini shows off her slender body with just the tiniest hint at the hips that are sure to fill out over the next few years. And if I look close enough, I think I can make out the tiniest bit of side boob.

  I rub my eyes as if this will clarify my vision. Yep, there’s definitely a little side-boob action going on there. Thank God for the water surrounding me. Along with my newfound attraction to girls, I’ve also developed the annoying habit of springing wood whenever I see a cute girl. Or think about one. Or if there’s a stiff breeze. Or if they’re serving pizza for lunch in the cafeteria. Basically, my junk has a mind of its own, and I’ve become quite creative with ways of covering it up.

  Lucky for me, this time, it’s hidden. I shift slightly, trying to redistribute the blood flow to my lower body and hopefully nip this thing in the bud before it becomes a problem.

  “Think she’ll go out with me?” Alex asks, his eyes still focused on the girl.

  “Not if I get to her first,” I quip.

  The girl vaults off the board, arching her back as she flips through the air, and dives headfirst into the water below.

  Alex and I eye each other for half a second before we both lunge across the pool, racing and shoving through the mass of people in our attempt to reach the girl first. Alex gets hung up behind a group of young kids in floaties, and it’s clear that victory shall be mine.

  I plaster on the smoothest smile I can manage as I approach the girl, her head just breaking through the surface of the water. Her hands come up to her head, pushing the hair back off her face as she turns.

  “That was awe—” My words are cut off as the girl looks me square in the eye.

  Nichole.

  Holy.

  Crap.

  She smiles at me as I tread there, my mouth hanging open. Everything I was prepared to say immediately evaporates when I see her familiar face.

  I can’t say that stuff to Nichole.

  She isn’t like the other girls at school.

  She isn’t one of those girls who’s getting all those sweet spots in all the right places.

  She’s my best friend.

  I feel my cheeks flush crimson as she stares at me, confusion sinking into her expression the longer I gape at her.

  “Joey, did you see my dive?” she asks sweetly.

  Her voice suddenly sounds different to me. It’s still the same voice, but there’s a tone to it I’ve never noticed before. A feminine tone. A sweet tone. A…sexy tone?

  No.

  No.

  No.

  Nichole isn’t hot. I mean, sure, she isn’t ugly. But she’s…Nichole.

  This can’t be happening. And why in the hell does my tongue feel like I’ve eaten a giant spoonful of peanut butter and it’s stuck to the roof of my mouth?

  Say something, you idiot. Anything.

  “Uh…um…yeah,” I stammer. Smooth, Roberts. Real smooth.

  “Yeah, you saw it?” she asks, her brow furrowing deeper as she looks at me.

  Instead of trying to speak again, I simply nod.

  “Well, did it look okay?”

  Judging by the pole currently residing in my trunks, I’d say it looked a hell of a lot more than okay. But I don’t tell her that. Instead, I nod again, knowing I must look like an idiot, floating here, bright red, unable to speak to the girl I’ve known the longest.

  “You’re acting weird,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  She swims past me, toward Alex. I turn to him, his face slack with shock, looking almost as dumbfounded as I feel.

  Nichole and Alex are my two best friends in the entire world. Nichole and I became attached at the hip shortly after the day we first met. Alex joined us not long after, and the three of us have been getting into trouble ever since. We like to call ourselves The Three Musketeers. Our parents prefer to refer to us as The Three Stooges. But whatever. It’s always been us three against the world. And I’ve always felt like there’s nothing we couldn’t take on as long as we had each other.

  But what happens now? What happens when Larry and Moe suddenly realize that Curly isn’t a stooge anymore? What happens when Curly gets…hot?

  I walk into the station, completely wiped after a long night of patrol. I can hear my bed calling my name, even from several miles away. I have a few things to drop off to the chief, but with any luck, I should be home and snoozing within the hour.

  Walking into his office, I notice that Chief Morgan is nowhere to be found.

  Even better, I think to myself as I set the folders on his desk and turn to leave.

  Chief is a great guy, but, damn, that man can talk your ear off.

  Since running into Nichole again at Moretti’s a few weeks ago, I’ve lost more than a couple hours of sleep due to thoughts of her and our past. Last night was particularly brutal, my dreams racked with memories of days long gone. I’d woken from a dead sleep more than once, feeling almost as if Nichole was right there in the room with me. Once, I’d woken with my hand outstretched, the wisp of her walking out of my bedroom all those years ago evaporating in my subconscious, a silent plea for her to stay on the tip of my tongue. It’d taken me several minutes to realize none of it was real. After that, falling back to sleep had been difficult.

  So, yeah, it was a long night. I’m running on about three hours of sleep, something I used to be able to handle without batting an eye. But, now that I’m thirty, it’s like a switch has been flipped inside me, and my days of running on little to no sleep have become a thing of the past. I feel like I belong on the set of The Walking Dead. And I’m not talking about a Rick Grimes type. I’m a straight-up walker.

  I’ve almost made it to the end of the hall, the door to the lot where my truck is parked just ahead, when I hear my name.

  “Roberts, get in here for a sec, would ya?”

  My shoulders sag slightly, seeing my freedom so close yet so far. I momentarily debate on fleeing, pretending like I didn’t hear the request/order and dealing with whatever this is about tomorrow. But I know I won’t. That’s not who I am. When my superior asks me to do something, I’ll do it.

  Turning on my heel, I make my way into the conference room where Chief Morgan has some papers spread out on the table before him. His brow is furrowed as he studies them, his expression filled with concern and exhaustion. I notice the same small stain on his left pocket that I saw last night when I first showed up for my shift.

  Has he been here all night?

  I open my mouth to ask him, but I stop short when he drops the paper in his hand and rubs his hands over his face. Leaning back in the chair, he grips the armrests before turning his focus completely on me.

  “Three more overdoses in the past week. That brings the total up to seven. What the fuck is going on in my town, Roberts? This shit doesn’t happen here.” His voice is like gravel, his exhaustion seeping into his words.

  Over the past few weeks, we’ve had a string of reporte
d overdoses. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Just a few random junkies who had finally taken their next fix too far. But the last few have been kids. Teenagers. And that doesn’t sit right with any of us. Whoever is selling this shit to these kids needs to be stopped. And Chief has taken it upon himself to put an end to it. Each time another kid is reported dead, I can see a part of him crumble.

  Morgan took over when Tucker retired right after I’d left town. And, since then, he’s done a hell of a job with keeping this city safe. I know he feels responsible in some way for the deaths of these kids, like he’s letting the community down.

  “Anything I can do to help? You need to go home and get some rest, sir.”

  As tired as I am, I know it’s nothing compared to the utter weariness I can see in Morgan. The deep circles under his eyes appear almost like bruises, and the lag in his usual happy demeanor has me worried. I suppose I can stick around here and try to make some headway on this case for him if it means he gets to go home and get a few hours of rest.

  Chief shakes his head. “No, not with this. Not right now anyway. We’re at a standstill. Unless something else turns up, I seriously don’t know how we’re going to catch this guy. He’s like fucking vapor.”

  His eyes drift back to the photo in front of him of the fourteen-year-old girl who was found yesterday. My heart breaks for her parents. I don’t have children, but I can imagine what it must feel like to find your baby girl dead on her bed.

  Chief’s eyes fill with tears, but he’s quick to blink them away. Looking back at me, he clears his throat, wiping away all traces of hopelessness and fear and replacing it with authority. “I need you to go over to the elementary school. It’s Career Day over there. I was supposed to go and answer questions, but I can’t go like this. I have yesterday’s clothes on, for fuck’s sake. Some of those kids are already scared enough of cops. I don’t need to be adding to that.”

  When I hear what he wants from me, I want to argue and try to convince him to get one of my colleagues – maybe Wilson or Romano – to do it, but the intensity in his eyes halts my words. He isn’t in the mood to be argued with. His eyes practically plead with me to just do it and not make a fuss.

  And that’s how I find myself back in my patrol car thirty minutes later, freshly showered and changed into the backup clothes I keep in my locker, pulling into the elementary school parking lot. I turn into a space next to an old nineties Honda. Principal Turner. He’s had that damn car since I was a student here. I don’t think either one of them is ever going to break down and retire or die.

  After checking in with the front office, it’s easy for me to find the classroom I’m supposed to be in. Being back in this old school brings back a lot of memories, memories that all include Nichole. The second grade classroom I’m headed to is the same second grade classroom I was in when I first moved here, the one where I sat right next to Nichole every day after I met her out on the playground that fateful day.

  I gently knock on the closed door, not wanting to interrupt if someone else is giving a presentation.

  A young woman, probably fresh out of college, opens the door and greets me. “Thank you so much for coming,” she whispers as she guides me to the back of the class.

  A man in a suit stands at the front, talking to twenty bored seven-year-olds about the joys of accounting. I stifle a groan. An accountant? Really? That’s the best they could do for these kids? I’ve been listening to him for only ten seconds, and even I’m already beginning to fall asleep. I look around at all the listless faces, cracking a smile when I see a few of them yawn.

  I tune out the accountant, trying to come up with a plan to liven up these kids. I remember Career Day when I was a kid. It was always a day I both dreaded and loved. Dreaded because I would have to sit through all the adults who talked to us like we were stupid kids. Loved because it would mean no homework that night.

  School ends in a few weeks, and you can tell these kids are already feeling restless with the thoughts of summer vacation looming right around the corner. I think back to what Chief said before I left, how so many kids are afraid of cops and how he’d like to dispel that fear.

  Just as Mr. Tax Deductions finishes up, I get an idea.

  The young teacher gets up in front of the class, quickly thanking the man before introducing me. I walk to the front of the room, catching sight of one little boy laying his head down on his desk, his eyes closed tight.

  I stop right in front of him. Kicking my left leg up, I firmly plant my foot next to his face on the desk. The loud noise startles him, causing him to jump in his chair. His classmates erupt into giggles as the boy blushes, sinking back in his seat.

  “How many of you guys know what my job is?” I ask, looking around the room, trying to make eye contact with as many kids as I can.

  A number of hands shoot up, and I point at a little girl in the back.

  “You’re a cop,” she says proudly, pleased with herself for knowing the right answer.

  With her wild dark hair and smug smirk, she kind of reminds me of that little Harry Potter girl, Hermione what’s her face. Cute kid even if she does seem to be a bit of a know-it-all.

  I nod. “That’s right. I’m a police officer. And do you guys know what police officers do?” I ask, turning my attention from Hermione in order to get other members of the class involved, too.

  More hands dart into the air. I’m just about to call on an excited kid right in the front when I see a small boy a few rows back sheepishly raise his hand.

  I point to him, and he almost looks terrified that I’ve done so. He lowers in his seat, clearly not liking the attention that’s now on him.

  He doesn’t speak, so I lower my foot back to the floor and make my way over to him.

  Squatting down to look him in the eye, I introduce myself, “I’m Officer Roberts. What’s your name?”

  He carefully eyes me before turning his focus back to his desk. “Cade,” he squeaks out, barely audible in the quiet room.

  “Well, Cade, it’s nice to meet you. You raised your hand earlier. Do you know what police officers do?”

  He nods. “You help people.”

  I smile at him. “That’s right. We help people. We try to make sure it’s safe out there for you and your friends to play.”

  “My daddy says all cops are pigs!” another boy shouts, causing everyone’s attention to turn to him.

  I briefly look back at Cade, and the shy little boy seems grateful for the distraction.

  I straighten and walk over to the outspoken boy. As I approach him, he grins at me before laughing with his friend seated next to him.

  “Your daddy says that, huh? Well, last time I checked, I’m not made out of bacon. But I am…” I pause dramatically, seeing several little bodies lean toward me as they wait to hear what I’m going to say next. I lift my leg back up onto the desk—this time, hiking up my pant leg in the process. “Part robot.”

  A chorus of, “Cool,” and shocked gasps echoes around me.

  Well, that worked even better than I’d planned. Now, I firmly have the attention of every kid in this room as they all take in my prosthetic.

  The loud-mouthed little boy shrinks back in his chair. “No, you’re not. That’s fake.”

  I roll my pant leg up to my knee, just under where it joins with the remaining part of my leg. Moving my foot back to the floor, I demonstrate walking on it, so they can see it.

  “This look fake to you?” I ask him as I bounce up and down a few times.

  The boy blushes, no longer looking me in the eye.

  I turn and walk back to the front of the classroom. “Now, who has a question for me?”

  Every single hand in the room flies up.

  I walk out of the classroom with a smile on my face, my quest to show those kids that being an adult doesn’t have to be boring a complete success. I even managed to win over that outspoken little shit, whose name turned out to be Gavin. He wasn’t so bad once I got him talk
ing. His dad sure isn’t doing him any favors by teaching him to rebuke authority and disrespect his elders. Wonder if I’ve ever had a run-in with the kid’s dad.

  As I step outside the front door, the doors to the north fling open, and I see kids pouring out onto the playground. Smiling again, I meander over, watching as they clamber over each other to get to the top of the slide. I recognize a few, so this must be the second grade class. A young boy follows a girl over to the swing set, the two of them in their own little world. It instantly reminds me of being with Nichole.

  I followed that girl around like a little lost puppy dog. She made me feel welcome when my family had unexpectedly moved, thanks to Dad’s job. I was an awkward kid, never really having many friends. So moving to a new town had terrified me. I hadn’t wanted to start over from the little social progress I’d managed to make at my old school.

  The moment Nichole had grabbed my hand and dragged me over to her friends, my life had changed. Of course, being seven, I hadn’t realized it at the time. But, looking back on it now, that was a turning point in my life. I never wanted for friends after that. Never felt unwelcome or awkward. I can’t help but wonder how different my life would have been had we not moved and I’d never met Nichole.

  A tiny form catches my attention from the corner of my eye. I watch as the boy walks around the bustling field before settling down under a pine tree and removing something from his pocket. I recognize the boy from earlier.

  Cade. I think that’s what he said his name was. The shy boy from class.

  Instinctively, I move toward him. As I get closer, I see that he’s pushing a toy truck through the dirt beneath the tree, looking up every so often at the kids playing soccer just a few feet away.

  “Why don’t you join them?” I ask as I stop next to him.

  The boy squints up at me, his brows pulled down in a puzzled expression. “Am I in trouble?” he asks innocently.

  I chuckle. “Nope, not in trouble,” I say as I take a seat beside him.

  He watches me closely, and I can see the little wheels in his brain turning. I’m a stranger. And a grown-up. But I’m also a cop. He isn’t sure whether to be nervous or to run.