“So you think…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish saying what I’d intended.

Detective Johnson turned his attention back to the road just as the light changed. As we pulled through the intersection, he muttered, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go tonight.”

Ignoring his comment I asked, “What about my things? You know, my equipment? And I left my purse on a table in the club.”

Without saying anything to me, he pulled out his cell phone and pushed a couple of buttons. After a moment he said into it, “Sanchez? Listen, there are some things that need to be picked up from inside the club…yeah, the gear and a purse…”

Turning to me he asked, “What color?”

“Black shoulder bag. It’s on a table just stage left of the bandstand.”

Returning to his phone conversation he said, “It’s a black shoulder bag to the left of the stage…I’m guessing that’s the one…okay, get that stuff back to the safe house ASAP…great, I’ll see you there.”

He then closed the phone and put it away before telling me, “Taken care of.”

After a moment or two of silence I asked, “I don’t suppose anyone saw where Joey went?”

For a moment he got this incredibly compassionate look on his face before saying, “Looks like he got away in all the commotion. Lucky for you he decided to cut and run after he shot Reynolds.”

“For me, yeah,” I said. “Not so much for Officer Reynolds. What about his family?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of things,” he said dismissively.

We drove around for over an hour before finally pulling up at the safe house, where I immediately found my way to the bathroom and emptied the meager contents of my digestive tract via the in door, as it were. Once I’d managed to clean myself up and regain my composure I rejoined the good detective in the living room.

He looked closely at me and commented, “I’m surprised you went dressed like that.”

“Yes well, it seems I forgot to pack any of my guy clothes and by the time I found that out it was too late to get anything else from the apartment.”

“So do we need to have anything else brought over?”

I grinned and said, “I don’t think so.”

“Why so?”

“I got canned a little before Joey showed up,” I said with less disappointment than the detective probably expected.

“You don’t seem too broke up about it.”

“I’m not really,” I said. “I’d been looking for an excuse to get away from those guys anyway. I just didn’t want to no-show on them. Professional pride and all that.”

Shortly after that, Officer Sanchez pulled into the garage in my truck and came inside to deliver my purse. As he handed it to me, he said, “Here ya go. How’d you manage to get separated from it?”

I nearly lost it when he asked that, but I did manage to keep myself under control and after a couple of deep breaths replied, “When Officer Reynolds dragged me out of the club after the first shots were fired…” I left the thought unfinished, as I wasn’t really certain what to say.

“Ah,” he responded before turning his attention to Detective Johnson. “So what time does my shift start in the morning, boss?”

He looked at the younger man and replied, “I’d say eight or so. I’ll be taking tonight’s shift myself, so whenever you get here to relieve me.”

“Yes, sir,” he said before turning to me and adding, “Good night, ma’am.”

Once he’d headed out the door, I said to no one in particular, “Did he just call me ma’am?” The joy in my voice was unmistakable.

“I take it you like that?”

“You could say that,” I responded. “That’s sort of the goal of all the therapy I’m going through right now.”

He smiled at me gently and commented, “I think you’re being very brave. Not just about this whole Joey business.”

I returned his smile and then awkwardly said, “I’d best get to bed.”

Looking at his watch, he said, “You’re probably right about that. Good night, Miss Dawson.”

The smile on my face lit up despite my best efforts to hide my reaction to being called ‘miss’. I made my way into the bedroom and undressed before climbing into bed. I tossed and turned for quite some time, unable to get to sleep. As a result, my mind once again began to wander…

…I was lounging in the living room watching television when Mom came in and asked, “What ya watching?”

At that point I’d heard far more than enough so I quietly slinked away, trying not to be noticed. Turning toward the door I then happened to catch a glimpse of a couple of my buddies as they wandered in…

…Eventually I did manage to get a little sleep, though nowhere near as much as I would’ve preferred. As a result, Saturday morning seemed like a particularly cruel thing to inflict on me. That didn’t, however, prevent the detective from rousing me at far too early in the morning.

“Come on, up and at ’em,” he abruptly called as he flipped on the bedroom light. “Breakfast’s ready in five.” Without waiting to ensure I actually got up, he turned and left the room.

I seriously considered just pulling the covers up over my head, but something prevented me from doing that. So up I was pulling on my robe over my nightgown and slipping my feet into warm fuzzy slippers before making my way to the kitchen, where I found the good detective standing in front of the stove, utensils in hand, stirring the contents of a rather large skillet as it sizzled away.

“Grab a plate, it’s ready,” he called to me as he scooped the contents of the skillet onto plates and went to hand one to me. We then sat at the kitchen table partaking of his labors while we awaited the arrival of Officer Sanchez.

“Thank you,” I said quietly as we ate.

“It was nothing, no big deal. All I did was throw some eggs and a little cheese…” he said.

I cut him off saying, “No, not for breakfast, although thanks for that as well.”

“Then what for?” he asked.

I took a deep breath and said, “For the way you’ve been treating me. I know it’s kind of strange having to deal with someone like me and you’ve…”

He jumped in, “There’s no need for thanks. All I’ve done is treat you the way I would hope to be treated if I were in your situation.”

I blushed as I responded, “Well, thanks anyway. Not many would be as understanding.”

He took a few more bites of his breakfast before offhandedly saying, “I kind of have trouble seeing you as a guy anyway.”

I’m not sure he meant to say it out loud, or realized he had said it for that matter. Nonetheless, the joy that spread through me made me blush further, if that were possible. After that, we ate in more or less silence, neither of us sure where the conversation should go.

Breakfast done, I took care of cleanup and just about the time I was done Officer Sanchez arrived. Detective Johnson said his farewells and was out the door.

Sanchez said, “I’m going to do a sweep around the house while you get showered and dressed, all right?”

“Okay,” I replied. He then headed out the door while I went to shower. After that, I was drying my hair when my cell phone rang.

I flipped it open and was greeted with, “Hey, girlfriend!”

“Beth? It’s good to hear from you.”

“Well, it’d been a few days so I thought I’d check in with ya. Got anything going today?”

“I wish the answer was no, but I’m stuck here in solitary confinement for the foreseeable future.”

“That sucks. I was hoping we could go shopping,” she said, sounding a bit dejected.

“God, I wish I could,” I replied equally saddened. Just then, Officer Sanchez poked his head in the room to let me know he was back from his reconnoiter of the perimeter. I waved to him and after he responded in kind, he left me to my phone conversation.

Beth asked, “So no luck finding that creep yet?”

“Not so much. He found me last night though.”

She gasped, asking, “What? How?”

“I had a job last night. About halfway through he showed up and started shooting. It was horrible,” I said as I started to cry.

“You didn’t get hurt?” she asked, the concern in her voice extremely evident.

“No, but the cop who was protecting me was shot and killed,” I barely managed to croak out through my tears.

The conversation continued for some time, ending with me promising to call back later so we could talk more after she said she needed to get busy. I hung up and let out a huge sigh.

No sooner had I finally begun to settle down than my cell phone rang again. Looking at the caller ID, I then flipped it open saying, “Sarah, what are you doing calling me on a Saturday? Did you forget that you get weekends off?”

She giggled for a moment before responding, “Well, since you can’t come in for your weekly session I thought I’d bring it to you.”

“Ah, that’s sweet,” I replied. “If ever there was a time when I needed to talk to someone, it’s now.”

“Something wrong?”

“You mean aside from feeling like I got a police officer killed last night?”

She gasped before asking, “What happened?”

“I talked them into allowing me to go play last night. Not one of my better decisions,” I replied. “The guy they’re trying to protect me from showed up and started shooting up the place.”

“You didn’t…” she began.

I cut in, “No, I’m fine. Unfortunately my bodyguard can’t say the same.” Unable to contain it any longer, I started crying.

“Oh, Hannah,” she said, unable to come up with anything more appropriate.

“He was trying to save me and was killed himself. Guilt doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling right now.”

We talked for over an hour before Sarah noticed the time and brought our session to a close, but not before promising to call again Tuesday evening to check up on me. After spending much of the time on the phone in some state of emotional upheaval, I let out a huge sigh as I tried to calm myself.

Suddenly a voice broke the silence, “It really wasn’t your fault, you know.”

Startled, I felt myself jump. Once I had myself back under control I said, “Would that that were true.”

“It wasn’t. Really,” he said. “Detective Johnson authorized it as an operation to attempt to capture the perpetrator. Unfortunately, he got past us.”

I looked at Officer Sanchez and said, “I’m sorry, but that’s not really all that reassuring. How do I know he’s not going to come bursting in here and take you off guard again?”

“I’ll be honest, we underestimated the guy and he got the better of us. I promise you, that won’t happen again.”

I tried to be reassured by my guard’s words, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but have my doubts. I did my best to not allow them to rule my thinking.

Later that night, I found myself having rather scary dreams…

…I was playing on stage, when suddenly Joey jumped up right beside me and held a gun to my head, telling me, “Keep playing, sissy boy!” Rarely needing to be told twice, I tried to ignore the gun and continue playing. However, my nerves seemed to be getting the better of me as I found myself uncharacteristically making numerous mistakes as I played.

I look away in embarrassment, but when I turn back to face him it’s no longer the good detective I’m seated across from, but my nemesis Joey…

…I sat bolt upright and shouted, “Aaahhh!” before I realized that what I had just seen was in fact a nightmare. Just as I started to calm down, in came my overnight companion, a young lady by the name of Officer Banks.

She crossed to my bedside and asked, “Is something wrong?”

I looked back at her and said, “No, just a bad dream.”

She smiled, trying to calm me down some, before saying, “Well, if you need anything, just let me know, okay? I’ll be right out here if you need me,” She then turned and left the room, this time leaving the bedroom door ajar.

I lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, though it took quite some time before I could manage it.