"So what's the game plan for today?" Lana wanted to leave because all her things were at Mike's.
"We're waiting to hear back from Quent and get the scoop on what's going on with finding the third guy. I think we should stay put until we hear something. I could whip you again in a game of scrabble."
Not paying attention to his invitation, her mind was preoccupied with more detrimental thoughts. "Mike, what type of women do you usually date?"
Wow, that question came out of left field. It was a question he hoped she would never ask, plus that was a subject he wanted to be off limits. These types of questions always preceded something disastrous. His piercing look let her know he didn't want to go this direction, but he answered anyway. "Well…" he took a deep breath, "I usually dated tall, thin, and athletic women. Why do you ask?"
"I was curious, that's all. Are you saying you're not attracted to me?" She was heartbroken.
This description didn't fit her at all, but she did ask, so she had to accept to the answer.
He rolled his eyes knowing her reaction was inevitable. "I'm just being honest. I told you that I fell head over heels for you the minute I saw you. I don't think it has anything to do with the way you look, it's just a feeling. And maybe I've been dating the wrong type. But, it doesn't matter anymore, I have you, and I love you very much. Besides, I'm beginning to like the voluptuous type."
She shrugged her shoulders. "I was just curious." The weird thing—she had pictured him dating that type. He was tall, dark, and athletic; so why wouldn't he date that type.
"What did you like in me?" He couldn't resist asking. He had imagined her dating attorney types with suits and briefcases—someone who might wine and dine her, give her the best of everything. Visions that swept his mind were men around six feet tall, medium build, educated, wealthy, and into physical fitness. Definitely not cops, more the office types.
"I don't know, I guess the same answer you gave. It's a feeling you get. I always said I would never date a cop or anyone who lived over fifty miles from my home. Look at me now, I have broken every rule I ever made. To answer your question, I've never been attracted to any particular type. Most of the time, I'm more interested in their personalities. With you, it was a combination of looks and personality. My heart skipped beats from the second I saw you. I think we have something that's called pheromones."
"What are pheromones?" Mike backed up and looked at her like she had just made up a word.
"It's some kind of chemical our bodies release to attract the opposite sex. Don't look at me like I'm crazy. It's a scientific fact. I read about it."
"If you say so, but I think you're pulling my leg." He stared into her eyes trying to determine if she might be teasing him.
"Honey, I'm telling you the truth," she said as she sprawled out across his lap so he could hold her. She decided she wanted to smooch on this handsome man. Their kissing led to more passionate kissing; then his phone rang. That damn phone.
He grinned at her as if to say it happens every time. "Hello… Hey Quent… Yeah… They finally told you?…. Great… Pick him up… We'll be there… Let's hope this is the guy… Thanks, and we'll see you at 2:00." Mike looked at her as he pushed the end-call button. "Guess what?
You got a reprieve. Quent thinks they have the other man who helped deliver the wood. They want you to come to the police department and look at a line-up. They need you to identify him."
"How does it work, me identifying him?"
"You will enter into a room that has a tinted glass window, and you will fill out a form with the number of the person you saw. That's all."
"He can't see me, right?"
"Not at all. Quent will be there the entire time, and I will be down the hall in another room."
"Will there be any other people in the room?"
"I don't know. When it's us, we don't allow anyone in the room but the detective and the witness. We are afraid of contamination and intimidation." Mike remembered one incident where a mother of the suspect got into the identification room. When the victim pointed out her son, the mother ran over and attacked the victim. She called her a liar and pulled her hair and hit on the poor girl. After that, the marshals changed their policy. He got angry just thinking about Lana in the room in case something happened. He would have a long talk with Quent when Lana wasn't around to hear.
"That doesn't sound so bad, but I do have one concern."
"What?"
"Do the police know what we were doing when this pervert was masturbating? I don't want them to laugh at us. And if it is him, do you think he's talked about what he saw?" Her face turned red just thinking about it. She started twisting her hair out of nervousness.
"Honey I would not think twice about what he saw. And yes, the police know. I'm sorry babe, but they had to know the truth about everything. There will not be any comments or snickering, but if there are—I will handle it."
"A man masturbates outside a window while two people are making love, and the police know. It really bothers me that they know." Hopefully they had enough respect for Mike they wouldn't ask any questions. Worst of all, what if she had to talk about it in court? The thought of that made her head start aching.
"Honey, trust me when I say this is nothing compared to what the police had heard in the past."
"I'm sure they have, but that doesn't make me feel better."
"How about we go get some lunch, head back to Plymouth and enjoy the drive today." Mike wanted to get her mind off the hoopla with the police.
*****
"I can't wait to eat, I'm getting a migraine," Lana said as she rubbed her temples.
"You don't look as though you feel well. Do you want me to call Quent and cancel our meeting?" He could see in her eyes that she wasn't up to par. Guilt filled his heart for fussing at her last night. He didn't realize the stress she had been under, and he should have been more considerate.
"No, I want to get all this mess behind me. If this is the guy, I will feel better when it's all over, and we get back home."
Mike pulled into a diner. There were lots of cars parked there—a dead giveaway the food must be good. When they walked in, the place was overflowing with people. Mike noticed a buffet through some double doors. His height allowed him to see over everyone. He leaned down where she could hear him. "I'm going to check out the buffet, I might just get that if it looks fresh."
"I'll join you, I might get that too." She didn't see a buffet at first, then her eyes widened when she saw it had four rows of food.
As they walked closer, many people were filling their plates, and the waiters were bringing out more food. The buffet was loaded with shrimp, crab, fried and baked chicken, meatloaf, pot roast, and just about every veggie you could think of: corn, potatoes fried, mashed and baked, green beans, broccoli, pinto beans, and spinach. The other side of the room was a dessert and salad bar. The food looked delicious.
Mike leaned down to her ear and said, "I'm getting the buffet."
"Me too."
They both piled their plates with food. They looked at each other's plate and laughed. His plate was piled with seafood, shrimp, crab cakes, salad, and coleslaw. Her plate had pot roast, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, carrots, and salad. They were so opposite when it came to food. The only similarity was a salad. She didn't think he would survive in Tennessee.
They didn't talk much during the meal. The place was loud and they were too busy feeding their faces. "I'm going to get some dessert, would you like some?" Mike asked while stacking his two plates of scraps.
"No thanks, but you enjoy. I'm sure when you stand all the food will drop to your hollow legs."
"Then I'll be ready for the second round of dinner," he replied with a wink.
He left, and she knew it would take him a little while because the line was long. She was full, so she didn't care. All she wanted to do was to relax a few minutes and watch the people.
She could tell the locals from the visitors. The locals were dressed in warm clothing, bundled head to toe. Visitors were all dressed similar to how they dress in the south with unpractical clothing for the frigid weather. She noticed that with Mike. He certainly dressed warmer the she did. Watching the people made her realize she needed to go shopping for a heavier coat.
Glancing over at the buffet, for a split second she thought she saw someone she knew. He had just grabbed his plate and started waiting in line. A loud crash distracted her, and when she glanced back, he had vanished. She searched all around the restaurant, but she didn't see him anywhere. Not remembering where she saw him would drive her crazy. Where did she know his face? He looked right at her, staring. For some reason, he looked mad at her.
Mike walked back with about four different desserts: brownies, ice cream, chocolate
pudding and blackberry cobbler. "What's the matter," he asked as he looked around, trying to see what had caught her eye.
"I just saw someone I've seen before, but I can't remember where I saw him."
He acted concerned because she shouldn't know anyone from around there. "Did you know him from around Plymouth? Or do you know him from someplace else?"
"I'm not sure I just can't put my finger on it. Maybe I'll remember later, and when I do you'll be the first to know. The oddest thing is, he had just picked up his plate for the buffet, but then walked out before filling it."
"What did he look like, maybe I can spot him?"
"Short about five-seven, salt and pepper hair and balding on the top, stocky, barrel-chested, and he had on a plaid shirt with blue jeans. Maybe I saw him around the Plymouth area."
"If you see him again, let me know right away," he said while looking at his watch. "We need to be heading to the police department."
"I agree." She took the last bite of his blackberry cobbler before standing.
*****
They sat in silence while waiting in the holding room at the police department. Waiting for Quent made her nervous, and it made her headache worse. To pass the time, she looked at all the pictures of past police chiefs hanging on the wall. One picture showed a car that was shot up, and it looked as though it was old. It reminded her of Bonnie and Clyde's car. She knew it wasn't theirs, but it sure did look like it.
Lana's headache got worse by the minute, and she was more than ready to get out of there.
She closed her eyes and rested her head on the table. The coolness felt good on her cheek.
Mike looked at his watch, and as time ticked away, he got more anxious. He worried about his sweetie because her eyes didn't look good at all. Without a doubt, she didn't feel well. He had decided if Quent didn't come within fifteen minutes he would take her home.
They both jumped when Quent flung the door open. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.
Are you ready?" he asked with clipboard in hand, smiling.
"As ready as I'll ever be." She took a deep breath and took one last look at Mike.
Mike gave her a quick kiss to reassure her. "I'll be here waiting, and Quent will be with you every minute. I love you. I'll see you in a few minutes."
"I love you too."
When Detective Quentin opened the door to the observation room, several people stood in the back. She couldn't see any faces because her eyes had not adjusted to the dark. Nobody said a word, but there were lots of stares—some seemed friendly, and some didn't. That exasperated her even more. Lana always introduced herself to strangers. This silence unnerved her.
Detective Quentin explained the process. "Ms. Andrews, several people will walk out holding numbers in front of them. You need to write down the number of the person you saw unloading the truck on October eighteenth. Are you ready?"
She took a deep breath and answered with a squeaky voice, "Yes."
He got on the intercom and said, "Send them out, please."
Several men filed out, and she carefully looked at each one as they walked past her. They all stood facing her, and after a few minutes, they were told to turn sideways. Then they turned to the front again. She looked closely at each one, and unequivocally knew that number three was the right man. She wrote down the number three, looked at detective Quentin, and said, "He is number three."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Thank you Ms. Andrews. I'll take you back to Mike."
Wow, that's it. That wasn't bad. She walked out without looking back at any of the people.
Picking the right man relieved the tension in her shoulders. She couldn't wait to get back to Mike to tell him he was right, she didn't have to worry. Picking him out had been a walk in the park, a piece of cake. The minute she saw Mike, she started bawling.
Mike tightened his lips and held her. "Baby what happened?" Then he looked at Quent for answers. He was ready to attack someone if they hurt her.
Quent shrugged his shoulders and nodded. His gesture let Mike know she picked him, and he didn't know why she seemed upset.
"I'm just glad it's over. I have a terrible headache." She wanted to go home.
As they walked out of the waiting room, an officer walked up and whispered to Detective Quentin. Quent turned to them and said, "Mike, you're big news with the break-in and Frank's murder. Somehow the reporters found out you're here, and now they're camped out front. Do you want us to drive you back to where you're staying?"
"We don't want anyone to know where we're staying, but thanks anyway. How about you drive my truck to the back and we'll leave that way."
"They're also in the back. Mike, you know the media always cover every exit." Quent thought a minute and came up with an alternative. "We can go through the jail, but I will have to make sure the inmates are out of sight."
"Let's do it." Mike had his fill with reporters. If he didn't see another reporter for the next five years, he would be happy.
Quent sent an officer to clear a path through the jail.
They exited through a barred door. Everyone was quiet except the jailer. He pushed buttons letting guards through the sally ports. One gate had to be closed before another opened, and the process took about twenty seconds. Mike looked at Lana and noticed she looked extremely pale, and her pupils were dilated. "Baby, are you okay?"
She didn't answer. What he said was unintelligible to her.
Mike looked at Quent and wondered if he noticed the same reaction. "Honey, can you hear me?" Mike asked with noticeable concern.
Lana looked at them, but her eyes couldn't focus. "I need to sit down…." Then darkness. She fell and hit her head on the edge of the desk. It hit with a hard thud. Mike did catch her before she hit the ground.
"Quent, call an ambulance," yelled Mike. He didn't have to, the jailer had already asked for help through his police radio.
*****
She woke up on a gurney in the police department with many officers' standing around gawking, hoping something exciting would happen. When it was obvious she would be okay, they went back to work.
She didn't feel a thing, as a matter of fact she felt fantastic. Her body could be lifted with a feather.
"Welcome back, I was worried about you," said Mike trying to act cheery, but his face showed worry. In his job, he had worried about many things, but worrying about Lana topped them all.
"What happened?" she asked even though she didn't care.
"You fainted," answered Mike while holding her hand.
"What's today?" For some reason, she had lost track of time. "Mike, I have to catch my plane home." Panic showed in her voice.
"Honey, you don't have to catch your plane for several days." Her incoherency worried him even more. He looked at the medic for answers.
"Her losing track of time is normal. It's the medicine. When she leaves, make sure she drinks lots of water to flush her system. Let her get lots of fresh air to clear her mind. Other than her head hurting, she will be fine in a few hours. Keep in mind she might say some crazy things."
Mike smiled when he asked the next question, "Is the medicine like a truth serum?" He knew he could tease Lana later with this bit of information. And maybe he could find out her true feelings for him.
"Maybe, it depends on what's on her mind." He finished putting everything away in his medical bag.
"Hey you, medical man," Lana waved to the medic.
Mike laughed, now he knew what the medic meant.
"Yes ma'am?" He couldn't help but grin at her.
"What did you give me? I feel good. You know, that's a James Brown song. I bet you didn't think I knew that."
"Yes ma'am I figured you did. The doctor gave you Valium."
Mike was glad to see her in good spirits even it was medically induced. "Honey, the young man has to go back to work and help someone else."
"Yep, you don't want to get fired," she said yawning.
Detective Quent tried to act jolly. "Well I think you found your way out. Cody, give Mike your jacket and walk him out to his truck then follow him to the CVS Pharmacy on Southern Artery. Quent turned to the medic, "John, can you follow them there and move Lana to Mike's truck? We're trying to avoid the media."
"Sure. It would be my pleasure."
Mike reached down and kissed her, hating to leave her side. He lingered, holding her hand for a few seconds. "I'll see you in a few minutes, I love you."
She said to the medic, "Hey medicine man, he loves me, did you hear him?"
The medic grinned. "Yes, I did."
They made their way out, and she could see the media videotaping and taking pictures. The police stayed in front of them all the way across the street. She could hear questions asking whether she had been stabbed or shot. All the reporters talked and asked questions at the same time. As she glanced over at them, she saw someone she knew. Her mind seemed fuzzy, and she couldn't figure out how she knew him. He stared right at her as though he might be mad at her, then his snarled mouth turned to a grin.
They pulled up at CVS and Mike ran to her side. "Thanks Cody for helping. Baby, do you feel okay? Do you need anything?"
"I'm fine, I don't feel a thing," she truthfully answered.
When they got in the truck, Mike buckled her in the middle. He knew he could lean her head against his shoulder. That position seemed to be the most comfortable for her. He propped her head slightly behind his shoulder. It was uncomfortable for him, but he knew it kept her head and neck secure. Within a few seconds, Lana fell sound asleep. He had to smile at her when he noticed her mouth wide open. Although tempted to take her picture, he didn't. He decided he would never embarrass her like that—at least not until he got to know her a little better.
An abrupt stop woke her up, and she realized they were at Mike's beach house. She was surprised. "Why did we come back here?"
"Since we have the bad guy behind bars there is no reason not to come home. Do you want to go back to Nantasket? If you feel safer there, I don't mind going back at all." Mike didn't want to take her back to Nantasket. He did worry about the bump on her head because it was the size of a golf ball. If they went back to Nantasket, it would take longer to get her to the hospital.
"No, I like your bed, and this is fine with me. Right now I just want to sleep. I don't know what they gave me, but all I want to do is sleep."
They walked in, and she noticed the steak had been removed, and the house had been
cleaned. She went straight to the bedroom, changed into her T-shirt and drank two tall glasses of water before going to bed.
Mike wanted her to drink all the water she could hold down. He sat a full glass on the night stand.
With one last glance at his baby, he quietly shut the bedroom door.
*****
Mike heard a knock on the door, it was his brother Lance. As he opened it, both men were grinning from ear to ear. Although their faces were mirror images, Mike was eight inches taller than his older brother.
"It's good to see you. Thanks for coming over here and cleaning up after CSI finished,"
Mike said as he gave his brother a hug.
"You're welcome. How is Lana?" He smiled at Mike knowing how much his brother had fallen for this lady. Love was written all over his face, and he noticed Mike couldn't sit still.
"She's great. She's sleeping right now. Do you want to see what an angel she is?"
"No, I'll meet her later when she's ready to meet the family. Maybe we can all get together before she goes home. You are smitten aren't you?"
"Lance, since Kathy, I have never loved anyone as much as I love this woman. As I told you, she is not the typical woman I date, but there is not one hair on that girls head that I would change. She's intelligent, beautiful, outgoing and can she cook. Also, she can keep up with me in Scrabble," he laughed as he looked at the Scrabble game on the coffee table. "You know me, and Scrabble—I always said I would marry the first woman who could beat me at my favorite game.
And she is good." His heart raced just talking about her. He couldn't stop grinning.
"I can't wait to meet her," said Lance.
"I can't either. You will meet her soon."
"What caused her to faint?"
"We think it's the stress of everything. She has been through a lot the last couple of days, and she hasn't been sleeping the best. It finally all caught up with her. She's sleeping now, and I'm going to encourage her to rest the last few days here. It's over until she has to testify."
"I don't blame you—you have to protect her from all of this. This is your everyday life, but not hers. I think you're doing the right thing by not exposing her to any more of this than necessary. I'm so proud you found her, she sounds like a terrific gal."
"Yeah, she is," said Mike as his phone rang and he held up a finger to tell his brother just a minute. "Hey Quent… What?... Are you sure?... I'll call Raymond now… Thanks for letting me know." Mike's face turned white as he flipped his phone shut.
"What's wrong?" Lance asked.
"The blood type of Greg Poll, the guy Lana identified today, is not the same as the sperm found on the window." Mike was shocked.
"What does that mean?"
"The blood type doesn't match any of the men in jail. We don't know who was in the house."
Lance put his hand on his brother's shoulder and said, "I know you will figure this out, you always do. You know you both are welcome to stay with us, we live in a gated community."
"Thanks, but I don't want to put her through the stress of all this and meeting my family.
Besides you know our policy with the marshals, stay away from populated areas if possible. I do appreciate the offer." Mike was truly concerned. This case was a little too close to home.
Lance stood up and gave his brother a much-needed hug and said, "Good luck. You know where I am if you need me."
"Thanks. I'll call you when I know more."
Mike watched Lance drive off while pulling out his phone to call his team together.