By the time I return, he’s off the call. Just watching me like I’m the only one in the room.I mean, you are.
“Hey, I bought a pizza for you,” I say, placing the box on the counter.
“What kind of pizza?” he asks, already stepping closer.
“Vegetable pizza,” I reply.
“Thanks, Mami,” he says, brushing past me. The scent of cologne and ganja clings to him, mixed with that warm, earthy scent that’s just Nickoi. Makes my knees light. I trail behind him into the kitchen.
“Mi never see yuh eat pizza,” I tease, leaning against the fridge.
He bites into a slice. Chews. Shrugs. “I do.”
“You a practice fi say it,” I laugh, and he breaks into a grin. That boyish one. The rare one.
I walk over, and he holds out another slice. I lean in, take a bite from his hand, eyes never leaving his. He licks sauce off his thumb. Smooth. Intentional. I smile, heart thudding steady. This man? He’s mine, and I’d never trade him for the world.
Earlier at the Police Station
UNKNOWN
Something about a hot cup of coffee in the morning calms me. Heck, it doesn’t even have to be morning, just give me my coffee,heavy on the milk, and I’m good. I bring the cup to my lips when suddenly the door swings open. Rachel storms in, hair a mess, frustration pouring off her as she throws her bag onto a chair and pins her hair up quickly.
She flops into her seat with a sigh, already flipping through a fat stack of files.“Mi cya bother enuh,” she mumbles under her breath, papers rustling all around her.
I place my coffee down on the table, giving her my full attention. “Isn’t it too early to be acting like this?”
She doesn’t even look at me. “You wouldn’t understand, Detective,” she replies, sighing again as she resumes her frantic search.
I know crime in Jamaica is rising especially in St. Catherine but I didn’t fly here to be worried. I flew here to work. To solve. Because nothing is too hard for me to find.
“Tell me what I don’t understand, Rachel aside from the mass shooting in Constant Spring that all the officers are neck-deep in?”
She finally looks at me, eyes tired. “You don’t get it. You think this is normal but it’s not. Every case I’ve worked on, there was something. A thread the killer forgot to cut. But this one? There’s nothing. And I’m telling you now, it’s not gonna be easy for you.” She glances at the other officers in the room before her eyes fall back on me. “They’re tired. Burnt out. We’ve tried everything. Nothing.”
“Then you search again,” I say simply. “And if you don’t find anything you search again. And again. And again. How do you think I solved every case I’ve worked on? I didn’t whine. I didn’t stop. I searched. Because that’s the job.”
“We’ve done that,” she bites back. “We went to the club more than once. We spoke to every eyewitness. We followed every lead. Still nothing. Even with what little we got, it led us nowhere.” She sighs hard. “So I’m not asking you. I’m tellingyou. This is the hardest case you’ll ever get and that’s if you solve it.”
I lean back, arms crossed, sipping my coffee. “I’ve never taken a case I didn’t solve. America. Haiti. Colombia. Countries with bloodier streets and smarter killers than here. All those criminals are behind bars now. And you’re trying to tell me that a little case in Jamaica will be my undoing?” I pause, meeting her eyes. “Do you even realize who you’re talking to, Officer Rachel?”
She sighs again, rubbing her temples. “Okay, Detective. When are you taking over this case?”
“Anytime you’re ready.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She slides the entire folder across the table. “I’m ready now. I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks.”
“Word.” I lean in, opening the case file. I start reading.
A few pages in, I furrow my brow. “This shooting happened in October and Carlos Perez is still missing?”
Rachel nods. “Yes. Presumed dead, and we’re getting new cases almost every week. We’re overwhelmed. Just last week, a Don from Flankers was shot and killed in Spanish Town around 2AM residents only heard the shots.”
“No eyewitnesses?” I ask.
“Some. But useless,” she replies, handing me another file.
I flip through it. Then pause. Something catches my eye. “Let me guess, black pullover and face covered?” I say.
