Page 14 of Falling For Alaska

“Maybe...I’ll go check again.” Somehow, I already know. As I walk the concrete hallway toward the archives, I can feel it in my bones that the file isn’t there. If this case is missing, it’s not by accident. You don’t become a cop believing the world’s all sunshine and kind-hearted folks. You join the force because deep down, you know there’s darkness, and someone has to drag it into the light.

And right now, I know this is the case I’ll need to figure out.

Alaska

“He what?” Matthew gasps, sitting on my bed with his fingers dancing in the air like he’s playing on an invisible piano. He’s been doing that for as long as I can remember, letting his hands wander through silent melodies only he can hear. My little Mozart, Mom used to call him back then. As usual, he’s wearing that same Christmas sweater I bought him years ago on a grocery run. Red wool, reindeer, and snowflakes cover it, the kind of over-the-top festive look I thought would be funny. Somehow, he’s made it a staple. The temperature drops, and out it comes.

“He drove by the store a few times…” I repeat, knowing all too well that he heard me right, but he wanted me to say it again. Matthew and his love of drama.

“You’re sure bout’ that?” Tilting his head, his brown disheveled hair still wet from his shower before coming here. I look away, sitting on the cushy fabric of my book nook near my bay window. Red and orange tones color the leaves, turning the forest into a little fire. I wrap my arms around my knees. I wonder what Jack’s short blond hair would feel against my fingers. How he’d react if I were to run my hand in his hair and pull them a bit. Would his pupils dilate? Would he hold me even tighter against his chest like last time?

“I saw his car. Three times, maybe four. I’m not making it up, I swear.”

Matthew’s hands stop mid-air, his fake piano recital forgotten. “That’s...weird,” he remarks, though he sounds more intrigued than worried. Keeping my gaze on the leaves outside, my attention stays fixed beyond the window. “Maybe he was just… I don’t know. Patrolling or whatever cops do?”

“Patrolling,” Matthew repeats, his tone flat. “You want me to say it or…” He smirks, watching me like I’ve got an exotic bird on my shoulder.

“What?” I whip around to look at him, my stomach flipping in a way that’s hard to ignore. “No, we don’t know each other, it’s just-”

“Hey, Laska, chill. Nobody’s trying to hurt you. He’s new in town and he likes you, that’s all, won’t be the first, and certainly won’t be the last. You know there’s no point in trying to punish yourself for what happened, right?” he states, checks his watch, and then throws a pillow at me. “Not that talking about your love life grosses me out but gotta go, I’ve got to send a demo to this producer.” He gets on his feet, humming a melody. Outside, the wind stirs the flaming leaves, making them shimmer in this late-afternoon light.

Could Matt be right? Am I wrong to punish myself when unknown possibilities are knocking at my door? I never thought I could let someone touch me again, but he opened a world of possibilities for me.

“Bye, Matt,” I say, watching him put his shoes on. Still curled up on my cushy seat, lost in the beauty of the outside world, I wave at my brother, watching him close the door after blowing me a kiss.

Chapter Seven

JACK

“Main Street, again? Shit, Jack, either you don’t know how to drive, or there’s something you’re not telling me,” Jared groans from the passenger seat, slouched like he’s been dragged here against his will. What can I say? Another week has passed, and I crave that apple pie scent like it’s some kind of spell she doesn’t even know she’s casting. It helps that she ignores me, actually. Well, helps and makes it worse at the same time. She’s right to, though. I'm not right for her. I’ve never had a serious relationship, nothing that lasted more than six months. It could’ve happened, but my stutter always got in the way, turning me into a vault no one could open. Didn’t matter how much muscle I packed on, I could never open up to someone I didn’t trust to listen, to be okay with who I was. So I kept it casual. Stayed quiet most of the time. Closed myself off to any future that involved...more.

The crackle of the radio slices through my thoughts.

“Conflict at Parks and Monroe,” Connor’s voice mutters. “Need you guys there now.”

“On it,” I reply, already registering that Parks and Monroe is the name of the biggest supermarket in town. I lift the receiver. “What’s the situation?”

“Manager called it in, shoplifting. It’s escalating and sounds pretty messy,” Connor says over the radio. Jared straightens in his seat, muttering the f-word under his breath, something I’ve never actually heard from him. I always thought he was more of a goddamn it kind of guy.

“You know who it is?” I ask.

“Can only be one guy,” he grunts, shaking his head before glancing sideways at me with narrowed eyes. “Time to see how you pull your weight, city boy.”

I arch a brow. “What was that, country mouse?”

He snorts and cackles. “I don't know how it works in Minneapolis, but around here, there’s always some argument about who owns what land and who’s got the bigger gun. The guy we’re about to see, he’s, uh... How can I put this... Definitely not the most oxygenated salmon in the river.”

I nearly choke on the sip of water I just took. “You sound like someone’s g-grandpa.”

He grins. “Just saying. By the way, you can take the lead on this one. I won’t get my panties in a bunch.”

“Really? Thought you wanted to impress me on our f-first intervention. I’m d-d-disappointed.”

He smirks. “You’re alright, Jack.” I don’t reply, but I’m glad I got assigned with him. Boredom’s not going to be part of our schedule. I focus on the road ahead, long stretches of empty highway. Is this guy he’s talking about really that bad? I’ve handled worse in Minneapolis: violence, domestic disputes, assaults. Not my first rodeo. I knew the city’s shadowy corners like the back of my hand. It’s different here. I don’t know what to expect. Sometimes the most dangerous people aren’t hiding in big cities; they’re tucked away in small towns, hiding in plain sight, capable of the worst. I glance down at my belt, one hand on the wheel, then at my gun.

“It won’t come to that,” Jared says, catching my movement.

“You never know.” I mutter.