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Randall
IT HAD BEEN THIRTY-six hours of emergency warrants, searches and interviews with officers and detention center staff. There were no new leads and nothing back from the surveillance videos of the adjacent buildings yet. Randall finally got back to Traci’s place long after midnight but she was still awake and waiting up for him. It felt so good to have her back in his arms. He had explained everything that he could and finally convinced her to get some sleep a few hours before sunrise. He nodded off for what seemed like seconds until his phone alarm buzzed again and he headed downstairs to the kitchen.
He ground his palms into his eyes as if he could push away how exhausted and frustrated he felt. No matter what, he wasn’t going to let up until Charlotte Carter was back in custody and sentenced for Rowena Garrett’s murder. She was guilty and deserved the death penalty as far as he was concerned but that was not something he ever spoke out loud. His job was to bring her in and let the prosecutor deal with the rest. And, keep Traci safe. That was his top priority. He never forgot the moment he arrived and saw that woman with a gun pointed at Traci. If he had appeared a minute later, she would have been killed that day at Hazelton House. She had been through enough.
Traci spent every day in yoga class with that brain-body guru person bending herself into a pretzel. He didn’t understand it, but it was helping. He was proud of the way she had recovered from that horrible experience and God knows what else from her childhood. There were no more nightmares. And no alcohol. She had come a long way emotionally and he would never let someone like Charlotte Carter near her again. “That was not going to happen.” He pushed the Bluetooth earbud deeper in his left ear and listened to the dispatcher on the KMP police scanner app.
“Nobody just disappears like that,” he thought as anger welled up in his chest. He took a deep breath. “Not without some help.”
He cracked a couple of eggs into a pan on the one burner hotplate, scrambled them with a fork, tossed them onto a piece of wheat bread with a dash of hot sauce and swallowed it down in three quick bites. He slurped a bit of the too-hot coffee from his Rattlers football mug and accepted the burn at the back of his throat with a grunt.
“I'm going to have to buy this woman a real stove,” Randall murmured while frying bacon in the pan. He lifted the brown crispy pieces onto a plate, blotted them with a paper towel, turned off the burner and set the pan aside. He filled a thermos with coffee and added a drizzle of vanilla almond syrup. As he sealed the lid and gave it a few quick shakes, Traci joined him, rushing around the kitchen.
“Oh, babe,” she said. “I overslept ... again.”
“It's okay.” He scooped her up in his arms, “You’re cute when you snore.” He watched the rose blossom across her cheeks. He loved to make her blush. Her wild side made her sweet side even more delicious. “It doesn’t bother me. But if you put sugar in your grits one more time, I’m warning you, it's a deal breaker.”
He took that kiss he needed from the moment she stepped into the room. She draped her arms around his neck and cupped the back of his head, pulling him deeper into the sweetness of her lips. “This woman” was all he could ever think when she was this near. He suppressed a groan and came up for air. He wanted to carry her back up those stairs ... he brushed small kisses across her cheek. He pulled back her collar and nuzzled his face into her neck and glanced at his watch. She was due at the office in fifty minutes. They could save ten minutes if he drove her instead of taking the private shuttle. Fifteen if he cut through the construction zone. And he could do that, no one would stop him now. Or, maybe she could just call off from work today ... He reached for the top button on her blouse. She pulled away.
“I've gotta go,” she said and picked up the thermos, grabbed a slice of cantaloupe and her lunch bag from the fridge.
“I'll drive you to work,” he said pressing his hand across his bare chest not wanting to lose the warmth of her embrace.
“No, don't be silly,” she said smiling. “You've been working those double-shifts. And now with everything else ... get some rest.”
“I don't mind.” He grabbed his jeans from the chairback and pulled them over his boxer-briefs. “Let me get my keys,” he said and reached for her again.
“Randall, sit down and eat your breakfast.” She pushed his hand aside and munched on the melon slice. “Oh, and remember I have yoga after work today. And then the photoshoot after that.”
“Right, I'll pick you up after work at Dewey Station around five-thirty.” He bit into a slice of bacon. “We’ll stop by Jay's Fitness for your yoga thing. Then Hazelton House for that picture thing. Maybe we can catch a late dinner at Queen Street Seafood after ...”
“You don't have to taxi me everywhere. I'll be fine. Just relax,” she said with her hands on her hips. “You should try yoga. It's a real stress reliever.”
“I already have a stress reliever.” He feigned a sexy blink and reached for her again.
She dodged his hands, laughed and stepped into the morning light streaming through the trees in the back yard. She waved her hand nonchalantly.
“You worry too much. Charlotte Carter is probably a thousand miles from here.” She bounced down the back steps and out of his sight.
Randall waited at the back porch until the Keeferton Municipal Police squad car hidden behind the abandoned property eased out of the alley. He exchanged a nod with the officer and watched it trail behind Traci as she walked down the street. He went back inside, filled a bowl with warm creamy grits, added a pat of butter, piled high the bacon and toast. He pulled a bar stool up to the counter, tapped the FriendsTagAlong app on his phone and located Traci on his list of contacts. Then sipped his coffee as he watched Traci's green dot move slowly across the map of Magnolia Grove.
