CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KARSON
The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else.
—UMBERTOECO
Gemma has never been so quiet as she is the day of our ride-along. I strongly suspect it has something to do with Harris’s mentioning my “date” with Bree. While he’d meant his comment as teasing, she seemed to have taken it seriously. Of course, this happened right after I’d resigned myself to enjoying her company, since it was the closest we’d ever get to a relationship. And I’d never enjoyed self-defense day more.
I’m not sure if Gemma decided to respect me as off the market or she’s hurt in thinking I’d chosen someone else over her. Either way, I should probably be grateful. Now I’m not going to feel betrayed when she ends up falling for a fireman next week.
But I’m baffled as to why she still signed up for the ride-along and requested me if she’s going to make it so awkward. Maybe this is about her writing research as she’d claimed all along. Though she doesn’t seem to be doing much research. We’re just sitting here on I-205 in the golden glow of a long summer evening, watching traffic slow at the sight of my cruiser.
“Do you have any questions?” I can’t believe I actually ask her this. But she doesn’t seem like herself when she’s not being all curious and intuitive.
Her eyelashes lower as she looks at my dashboard. She studies it as if for the first time. “What’s”—she randomly points to a button—“this?”
I adjust my posture as an excuse to hide a smile. She’d pointed at the heater, so obviously she doesn’t care too much about what my patrol car does. “That’s the Bat-Signal.”
Her eyes stay glazed for a moment, but I can tell when my answer registers. Her gaze jumps to mine and her pupils dilate as if to see me better. “Does it work during the day?”
“No.” I shrug. “That’s the problem with bats. They only come out at night.”
She gives me a small but genuine smile. The kind that says she likes being with me even if she doesn’t think she can bewithme. “So you have to do your own superhero stuff during the day then, huh?”
I wish I could say yes to that. I wish I could be her hero. “No. I just do my job.”
“Spoken like a true hero.”
We stare at each other, and I get this heaviness in the pit of my stomach at the realization she honestly trusts me in a way I’ve never trusted anyone.
“Gem—”
My radio crackles. “Any units in the area of Clackamas Town Square for robbery in progress?”
I report in, along with everyone else in the area, but none are as close as we are.
“Calling party reports shoplifting in progress at Macy’s.”
I hit my lights, then grab the radio to give my designator number so she can mark me as responding to a situation. “Show me en route.”
My pulse picks up speed like it normally does when heading to a call, but there is nothing normal about this. I’m checking over my shoulder before pulling into traffic, but I’m also keeping an eye on Gemma, who is sitting up straighter and pulling out her pink notebook. My attention is torn.
I don’t care about living up to her expectations in this moment. I just want to keep her safe. And I’m kicking myself for suggesting the ride-along. I didn’t really want her to go on calls. I just wanted an excuse to have her sitting by my side.
I wait until the dispatcher finishes the description of the suspect before preparing Gemma. “You’ll need to stay in the car while I go into the department store.”
I don’t have the imagination Gemma does, but Icanimagine worst-case scenarios. And no criminal is going to take kindly to an audience.
Her eyes widen my way and she opens her mouth to argue.
“It’s for your safety.”
Her mouth closes, though her lips purse in a pout. She can be mad at me if she wants, as long as she’s safe.
I take the mall exit, and cars pull over to let me run a red light. As soon as I’m in the town center parking lot, I flick off my flashers and go into what I consider stealth mode. If the suspect is exiting the store, I want to see her before she sees me.
I pull behind a tree into a position where I can watch the exit to the department store. I’m about to shift into park when a large woman with cropped, bleached hair matching the description of the suspect pushes through the glass doors, glancing over her shoulder and walking fast.
