Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 6: Two Things Broken

Part 2: Sophie

Her head hurt. Her wrist hurt even more. Her neck ached from sleeping on her back. She was a die-hard stomach sleeper, but she couldn’t very well do that with her arm bandaged and in a sling.

With unfortunate clarity, the entire previous evening played across the back of Sophie’s eyelids. She cringed at the memories of her conversations with Sam. Had he really called her Sleeping Beauty? How was she supposed to recover from that?

Eventually, she climbed out of bed and did a passable one-armed job of brushing her teeth and hair. At least her dominant hand wasn’t injured.

Oh, goodness. How was she supposed to navigate a computer for work? She’d be doing everything one-armed on her iPad for weeks. How long would she be in a cast? A quick Google search suggested 6-8 weeks. A rock settled in her gut at the realization that she wouldn’t be dancing much for months, certainly no coordinated lifts or complicated partner maneuvers.

Still in her joggers and t-shirt from the performance the night before, she decided to forego a shower in lieu of a heaping bowl of oatmeal, piled high with a sliced banana and some blueberries, followed by a drizzle of maple syrup and a sprinkle of sweetened dried coconut. Doing all of it one-armed meant it certainly wasn’t Instagram-worthy, but it was easy enough to make and would fill her belly for hours.

Between bites, she worked on an email to her family updating them on her injury and asking to come home for a visit. Once she got her cast later this week, taking a few days to warm up and get hugs from her parents would go a long way toward feeding her soul. She finished her breakfast and was just trying to figure out one-handed dishwashing when a knock sounded on her door.

“Coming!” she hollered, then wondered if she was supposed to do that. She’d have to ask Sam.

Speaking of…

“Good morning,” he greeted in his warm, low voice. A little swarm of butterflies took up residence in her stomach at the sound.

“Good morning,” she replied, stepping back to open the door.

“I come bearing keys.” He held out her keychain and dropped the little bundle into her open hand. She furrowed her brow.

“How did you…” She couldn’t finish her sentence, her memory a blank.

“You handed them to me to let me in last night, then fell asleep before you could come lock the door. Since I was bringing your car back, I kept the whole bundle and locked the door behind me,” Sam explained. She just nodded.

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked.

“Sore and hurting. I took a painkiller with breakfast. I’ve actually been thinking that once I get my cast, I want to spend a few days with my parents.” She watched him, uncertain for a reason she couldn’t explain.

He frowned a little before smoothing his face into an understanding smile. “I think that’s a great idea. Home and family sound good. I know it’s not your family, but my mom asked Ryan and I to help her with her kitchen today. Do you want to come along and offer one-armed support?” He winked.

“Um… I don’t know that I’d be very useful,” she hedged.

“Maybe being part of the fun is more important,” Sam suggested.

“Hmm… If you say so.” She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. “Okay. Give me ten – actually, twenty minutes to get myself dressed. Everything takes forever.” She shook her head.

“No problem. Can I wash your dishes for you while you do that? I can’t even begin to imagine how to do that with one arm wrapped.”

“You and me both!” she exclaimed, blushing a little at the embarrassment of having her – what, friend? – do her dishes. “If you come up with any grand ideas, let me know. And thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He actually looked happy, too, which floored her. Shaking her head, she disappeared into the bedroom.

It took her 18 minutes to put on clean clothes, and by the time she was done, she was exhausted. Thankfully, she had more clean joggers so she didn’t have to wrestle with buttons and zippers. She also found an oversized sweatshirt that fit over the thick wrapping on her wrist. Monday first thing she had to call for an appointment with a local GP to get the cast. Maybe today she could ask Sam’s mom for a doctor recommendation. That hadn’t come to the top of her list yet…

“Okay,” she sighed as she left her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She gawked at her now-spotless kitchen. “Whoa. Thank you!”

Sam grinned. “Happy to help. Ready?”

“I am,” she replied, picking up her small purse. She managed to lock the door one-handed, then followed Sam down to his car.

“Do you have an appointment to get your cast?” he asked once they were on the road.

“Not yet. I was, um, going to ask your mom for a recommendation,” she half-mumbled.

Sam chuckled. “She’ll give you half a dozen if you’re not careful.”

“I take it she likes to help?”

“Help, talk, meddle – all of the above,” Sam nodded. Just then, Sophie’s phone rang.

“Do you mind?” she held up the chiming device. “It’s my mom.”

“Go for it,” Sam assured.

“Hey, Mom,” Sophie caught the call right before voicemail.

“You broke your wrist? Honey! What in the world? Are you okay?” her mom practically screeched over the phone. Sophie wondered if Sam could hear. Mary Lane was nothing if not dedicated to her children, even though they were grown.

“Yes, Mom, I’m doing fine now. It’s wrapped up tight, in a sling, and I’m taking ibuprofen and acetaminophen.” If she didn’t give every detail, her mom would only ask more questions.

“When will you get a cast?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m going to ask a woman from church for a recommendation for a doctor today. Then I’ll call them on Monday and see when I can get in.”

“Okay. And then you’ll come visit?” Now her mom just sounded wistful, a little sad.

“Yeah, I will, Mom,” Sophie softened her voice.

“I miss you, baby,” Mom crooned. Sophie heard a little sniffle.

Do not cry, do not cry, she chastised herself. I will not cry in front of Sam. I won’t.

“Miss you, too, Mom. And hey, I’ll try to come home for the Fourth, too, okay?”

“Oh, that would be so lovely! I’m already convincing Jonathan to come, too,” Mom cheered up quickly. “Keep me posted on your plans, please.”

“I will, Mom.”

“Love you, Soph.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

A comfortable silence pervaded the sedan for a few minutes after Sophie hung up. She was grateful for the little emotional reprieve. It was just the calm she needed before the storm of a day full of well-intentioned but overwhelming Harrisons.

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 6: Two Things Broken

Part 1: Sam

Sam had news for Sophie. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that good of news. He had chatted with the florist, who recognized the arrangement but had no cameras in the vicinity. The buyer, a young-ish male of average height, average weight, wearing average clothes, with no identifying features (or hair color, apparently) had paid cash for the flowers. Totally useless.

He also had a few things he wanted to talk about with her. Now that he suspected someone was messing with her at the least, he wanted her to be more on her guard than before. More observant, more suspicious, more aware.

He was just putting his car in gear to leave the station parking lot at the end of shift when his phone buzzed in his pocket. For half a second he thought about ignoring it. He was tired, but it was the unfortunate tired of a boring shift. With a sigh, he put his car back in park and nabbed his phone on the last ring.

“Hey, Sophie,” he greeted with a smile. Definitely worth postponing the drive home.
For a few seconds, he heard nothing, then something faint, like a sniffle. Was she crying?

“Sophie? Are you okay?”

“I… I fell,” she said softly. Yes, she was crying.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked the most important question first.

“I think so… My wrist is swelling,” she replied, almost sheepish.

How does a grown woman fall so hard? He shook his head; it didn’t matter.

“Where are you? Do you need a ride to urgent care?” he asked.

“I’m on the way there,” she said. “You’re on speaker.”

Now he noticed the background noise. At least there was only one urgent care option in town.

“I can meet you there in two minutes if you’d like,” he offered.

“Please,” she whispered, then sniffed some more.

“I’m going to hang up so you can drive safely. I’ll be waiting at the entrance, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Sam.”

He was parked and waiting when he saw her car pull up, so he jogged across the parking lot to her. When he opened the door, he saw her cradling her left arm across her lap while trying to gather her phone and purse with just her right. Under the sleeve of her sweatshirt, her wrist was bruised.

“Hey. Need a hand?” he offered.

“Thanks,” she smiled weakly, and he saw the tear tracks still wet on her cheeks. He took the purse and phone she held out, then waited while she somewhat awkwardly exited the vehicle.

“Hurts?” he asked, feeling stupid the second he did. But she sent him such a grateful smile.

“Yeah,” she admitted with a sigh. “I feel so silly.”

“What happened?”

She hesitated just long enough to make him suspicious…

“A lift went wrong while we were dancing,” she muttered. “I can take my purse now.”

“I don’t mind carrying it,” he replied easily, mulling over her words. “What does that mean, a lift went wrong?”

“It means someone was supposed to hold me in the air and somehow, I fell.” Now she sounded annoyed. At him? At the fall? He wished he understood more. He also wished he knew what to say, but thankfully, they had reached the triage desk.

“What brings you in tonight?” asked a pleasant, gray-haired nurse behind the counter.

“I fell and hurt my wrist,” Sophie answered, gingerly holding out her purpling appendage.

“Poor dear,” the nurse tsk’ed. “You’re too young for that! All right, paperwork first. Paper or digital?”

“Digital is fine,” Sophie answered. Sam held out her phone to her silently.

“QR code there takes you to the right place. Once you get pre-registered, you’ll be added to the queue. Someone will call you from that door,” the nurse explained, gesturing to a set of green double-doors across the lobby. “Just keep working on the forms until they come.”

“Thank you,” Sophie nodded, then turned to Sam. He took her right elbow and guided her to a pair of free seats in a quiet corner of the room. Thankfully, this evening the waiting room was only occupied by a mom and drippy-nosed toddler besides the two of them.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your Friday evening, Sam,” she apologized softly as they took their seats. He gripped her right hand around her phone, squeezed her fingers, then let go.

“I’m glad you called, Sophie,” he assured. “Promise.”

She looked at him skeptically, then turned her attention to the forms on her phone. He let her work silently until about 15 minutes later when her name was called.

“Do you want me to stay here or come with you?” Sam asked.

She chewed on her lip, visibly considering his words. Her head tilted from side to side occasionally as she thought, and he imagined the move correlated to considering the various positions of the argument.

“Would you mind coming? But I’d feel bad if I asked you to leave later… So maybe I should -“

He laid a hand gently over hers. “It’s fine. I’ll come and stay for as long as you need me.”

A tear snuck out and her smile trembled as she thanked him, then rose to follow another nurse in green scrubs through the green doors. Apparently they liked color-coordinating here.

They were settled in a curtained-off room, Sam on a chair and Sophie on the bed, swinging her long legs side to side. She finished the forms on her phone while they waited for yet another person to come and start her exam.

“I really am sorry,” she whispered, chewing on her lip. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

Sam scooted the wheeled chair forward until he could grasp her uninjured hand.
“I told you I was glad you called, and I meant it. I know you don’t have family here, and I don’t hear you talk about friends except for dancing, which you hold close to your vest.” She blushed and ducked her head. “That doesn’t bother me. At all. I’m actually honored to be the one you called. I’m guess you’d have preferred family. If I’m second to them, I’ll take it.” He winked to keep the statement light, but realized his words had more weight than he perhaps intended.

It took over two hours to get through the interview, exam, and X-ray before they finally decided Sophie had broken her wrist – well, actually, one of her forearm bones, but very close to the wrist. The doctor called it a “distal radius fracture”, apparently the most common wrist fracture when you land on your hand. Of course Sophie tried to catch herself.

Her wrist was too swollen to cast, so they wrapped it and gave her a sling, then hopped her up on some pain meds that gave her the mannerisms of a slightly intoxicated person.

“I can’t drive…” she murmured dreamily as Sam guided her by the elbow back out into the waiting room.

“No, ma’am, you cannot,” he agreed with a grin. “I’ll drive you home and get your car to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” she lilted. Man, was she loopy. He got her out to his car, safely home, and up the stairs to her apartment before she nearly fell asleep on her feet.

“Hang on there, Sleeping Beauty,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

“Hmm?” she mumbled.

“Keys, please,” he directed. She simply handed over her small purse. He felt a little awkward digging through her bag, but at least she wasn’t the sort to stuff a million things into a tiny space. He had her door open in a few seconds, then guided her as far as her bedroom door.

“Need help with your shoes?” he offered, noting she wore thoroughly knotted lace-up tennies. Might be hard to undo.

“Huh?” she asked, then blinked sleepily at him and her feet. “Oh…”

“Yeah, oh,” he agreed. “Have a seat on your bed.”

Instead of sitting, she flopped on her back, never opening her eyes. Sam tried hard not to look around too curiously, but to just focus on unlacing her shoes and setting them beside the bed. There was a throw blanket folded neatly over the foot of her bed, so he grabbed that and draped it gently over her. She was out cold.

He let himself out, locking her door and pocketing her keys. He’d see her in the morning.

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 5: Firsts

Part 4: Sophie

The next morning dawned with a rather gray and dingy-looking sky, which did not bode well for Sophie’s Friday night plans. She checked the weather, then opened her Dragoness message group and let them know a final decision would be made by 3pm. She didn’t mind gray skies; it actually made a rather lovely foil for her upbeat dances. But she, and pretty much every dancer in her group, drew the line at rain.

Performance day. Sure, she had jitters. Who wouldn’t be nervous at the thought of spontaneously bursting into a very public dance? But these were the good kind of jitters borne of excitement and wonder. The two things that drove Sophie to enjoy this hobby so much were the thrill of the audience and the sheer joy of moving her body in time to great music. She’d love dancing at home on her own (and yes, she did it on a regular basis). She loved sharing that joy even more.

The day passed slower than molasses in January – one of Sophie’s new Wisconsin phrases. She’d had to ask what that meant, and one of her coworkers found a video of someone pouring warm molasses, then putting the bottle in the snow and trying to pour it an hour later. The molasses barely moved, and Sophie felt an instant connection to the anxious desire for something to happen far faster than it actually was.

Fridays were usually full of lighthearted fun and half-hearted progress. Today they were grinding towards deadlines on the city project, and Sophie spent most of the day holed up in a conference room debating between three options for the police department logo. This was a big deal, since it would appear on police cars and clothing for at least the next decade. Sophie wouldn’t admit it to her team in a million years, but she couldn’t stop wondering what Sam would think of each option. Nor could she stop getting lost in thoughts of their date.

Thankfully, the weather held at a nice cloudy but dry state, and would do so through their 6:20 performance time. She made sure to message the group with confirmation that they were still on and a reminder of what to wear.

At 4:30, the offices started clearing out. Sophie slipped home at 4:45, ate a small bowl of tuna salad, and changed into her outfit for the night. She had decided to not match this time. Usually, she liked everyone in the same clothes. It gave definition and cohesion to the group. But tonight they would wear a mix of colors and styles, whatever made them comfortable, because the song called for more individuality in Sophie’s mind.

By 6pm, she was finding a parking spot a block away from the movie theater. Williamson had one small theater with only one screen, so it was easy to choose a time between shows. Then she pulled on her masked and put up the hood of her sweatshirt to conceal the mask.

There was a no-parking zone in the front of the theater, and then a very wide patio-like space before the doors of the building. Sophie set her speaker on the ground near a pole in the corner of the patio. They would use about half of the space, leaving plenty of room for anyone who didn’t want to stop and enjoy the show.

Within five minutes, she saw her dancers arrive and find surreptitious ways to linger in the parking lot or on the patio. Gray and Amy sat on a bench as though enjoying the weather. Lee and Everett held hands and strolled slowly. Finally, the others appeared, and the digital clock on Sophie’s phone clicked to 6:19. Sophie was happy to see several dozen people coming out of and going into the movie theater.

With a steadying breath, Sophie set her phone next to the speaker, ready to press play. She pulled down her hood to show off the mask, then hit the button.

The music instantly filled the small space, drawing the attention of passersby. The rest of the dancers pulled on their masks and scurried into position, and then the fun began.

Sophie kept her mind on the movements while also keeping watch over her dancers. Out of the corner of her eye, she was gratified to see a few bystanders had pulled out cell phones to record the flash mob. A group of teens sang along and moved to the music. Even some of the theater employees came out to see what was going on.

Then she stopped looking and focused on feeling. The music flowed in her ears, through her heart, and out her limbs. She let herself absorb the lyrics, thoughts of larger-than-life dreams and the people who achieve them flitting through her mind.

As they neared the chorus, Sophie got into position for a lift. Sometimes they did pyramids, lifts, or throws, since Lee had also been a cheerleader and knew how to safely execute them. Sophie planted a foot in Gray’s intertwined fingers and a hand on his shoulder. Then she turned and put her other foot in Ryan’s hands and braced herself on his shoulder. Half a second later, she felt herself thrust into the air, and she straightened her legs as she rose.

Without warning, the world tilted, and Sophie felt herself falling backwards. What had happened? Somehow, Ryan had lost his grip, and down she went. Instinct had her putting her hands back, and she barely kept herself from crying out as most of her weight landed on her left hand. Pain arced up her arm, stabbing and throbbing.

When she looked up, everyone but her and Ryan had continued dancing. Ryan helped her up, looking concerned, confused, and maybe a little embarrassed. They finished the dance, Sophie signaling at the last minute to forgo the second lift they had planned. She couldn’t do it now, not with her hand hurting as much as it did.

Sophie completely missed the applause and cheers of the crowd at the end of the dance. It seemed like there was a direct line between the nerves near her wrist and her brain. The only thing she could focus on was pain.

“Hey, are you okay?” Oliver asked quietly as they started dispersing.

Sophie swallowed back her tears. “I’m fine. Just hurt my hand.” She tried to go for her speaker, but Oliver was in the way.

“Let me see,” he demanded.

“No, please. I just want to go home,” Sophie objected. Oliver had a determined look on his face, but Sophie wasn’t interested in help or company.

“Sophie, you’re being stubborn,” Oliver chastised.

“Oliver, please leave me alone.” Sophie spoke with as much firmness as she could muster. It must have been enough, because Oliver gave her a disapproving look but stepped away. She felt him watching her pick up her phone and speaker in her right hand, leaving her left tucked against her side.

Jesus, help me, she prayed. Every movement hurt. She could feel it swelling. She knew she needed to get to urgent care. Why she didn’t take Oliver up on his offer of help, she couldn’t say.

She silently made her way back to her car and awkwardly climbed in. Then she sat and stared at the steering wheel.

What had gone wrong? What did I do wrong? How had she fallen? She tried to replay the maneuver in her mind. She was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything wrong. Had Ryan faltered? He had been so solid in every practice.

Now she let the tears fall. I feel like such a baby. Jesus, I just want my mother. I need a hug.

Sam… She glanced at the clock. He should have just finished his shift.

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 5: Firsts

Part 3: Sophie

Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness. Breathe, Sophie LeeAnn. Breathe. Sophie tried to talk herself into a calmer state, but her nerves were having none of it. Her body insisted on being in high-alert, total-freak-out mode as she climbed into the passenger seat of Sam’s personal vehicle. He, of course, drove a very safe and sedate Toyota Camry.

Her brain spun in the effort to find a question to ask, and she exhaled in relief when Sam broke the silence.

“So what’s the path for getting into a marketing career? I think you mentioned college that day you rode with me.”

Yes! A safe topic about which she was knowledgeable.

“It’s typically a four-year degree. I was lucky to have a state university only half an hour from home, so I could save money while I got my degree. I worked on stuff for my dad for free, but I got a job with the local paper doing basic layout stuff. I know, small town weirdness. Peshicot, AZ still has a physical newspaper to this day.”

“Wow. Even New Albany and Williamson have moved forward in the world.”

“I know! Everybody does eventually.”

“So your job in Williamson – you got that right out of college?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “I interviewed via video conference during finals week. I’m kind of shocked they hired me, because my brain was not firing on all cylinders. But apparently even fried from finishing my senior project, they were willing to take a chance.”

“Are you happy with your choice?”

“The job or… what?”

“Yes,” Sam laughed. “The job, Williamson, Bethel. All of it, I guess.”

Sophie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Such a big question asked in so few words!

“The job? I like it. I like telling visual stories and being creative. I can see myself working here for a long time. Williamson? I love the town. It’s cute and quaint and just…” She cast around in her mind for the right word. “Pleasant. It’s pleasant. My apartment I will definitely be moving on from with no love lost.”

“Can I ask why you picked it?”

She laughed. “You can, and the foolish answer is that it was very affordable for someone right out of college who paid no attention to the neighborhood. Almost the first day I moved in I realized I probably shouldn’t have chosen that place, but it was also a good learning experience. I’m really not sure how I could have known without coming up here first, and I wasn’t financially prepared to stay at a hotel for however long it would have taken to find an apartment.”

“You rented it sight-unseen?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, I won’t make that mistake again, and I’ll be gone when my lease is up in 3 months.”

“I have to admit, that makes me feel better.” He shot her a sideways grin. She smiled back. She appreciated his concern. He wasn’t overbearing, but pushed her to think smarter about her safety. It meant more than she could find words for that he had rushed over when she was a little freaked by some flowers.

“Who do you think would leave me flowers anonymously?” she blurted.

Sam didn’t answer right away, as though he were taking her question seriously.

“Categorically, my mind goes to any exes, someone you’ve turned down, or someone who is too shy to ask you out. Flowers tend to be romantic, so I’d ask those questions first.”

Sophie barely resisted the urge to snort. “I have neither of the first two up here,” she replied quickly. “I have no idea how I would know the third.”

“Obviously, me neither.” After a pause, he spoke again. “Would you like to talk to my boss, Sgt. Breitung? He’s a detective. He might have more ideas.”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. I don’t want to waste his time when nothing really wrong has happened,” she immediately deflected.

“That’s fine. In the interests of full disclosure, I did email him tonight, so I’ll be keeping him in the loop.”

That sent a ball of dread bouncing in her stomach, but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want Sam to think she disapproved of his choice, but she felt keenly uncomfortable about spreading this around, even though she couldn’t articulate why.
It was less than two minutes later that he parked at The Barnyard, and Sophie got her first glimpse of a large, red barn.

“Wow. They went literal,” she commented as she climbed out of her seat. Sam laughed and, once again, offered his elbow.

“They did. Wait til you see inside.” The gleam in his eyes made her apprehensive and excited all at once.

One foot in the door, she knew exactly what he meant. The interior of the building was full of picnic-style tables with red-and-white plaid plastic tablecloths. From the rafters hung lights shaped like old-fashioned lanterns, and above, sitting on the beams, were hundreds of…

“Are those chickens?” Sophie craned her neck and turned a slow circle.

“Yup,” Sam replied with an amused grin.

“Oh, my…”

There was no wait since it was a weeknight, so Sophie soon found herself sitting across from Sam at one of the picnic tables. Loud country music played from hidden speakers. Waiters and waitresses in jeans and red t-shirts moved about the room, occasionally stopping to line dance and sing along with the music. Sophie spent too much time gaping at the plethora of country- and barn-themed decorations littering the walls and not enough time studying the menu, so when their waitress asked for their orders, Sophie had to sheepishly ask for suggestions.

“The Rooster is the most popular,” the waitress pointed to a spot on the menu with her pen. “White cheddar and pepper jack cheeses, stone ground mustard, pickles, mayo, lettuce, and tomato. It’s a can’t-go-wrong classic.” She paused and move her pen to another point. “If you like spicy-”

“No,” Sophie shook her head. “The Rooster sounds good.”

The waitress smiled and jotted her order, then took Sam’s order for the Firehouse (the spicy one, she noticed) and a basket of fries.

“So you like spicy food?” she asked as the waitress left.

“Sometimes,” Sam shrugged. “And you apparently don’t?”

“I don’t like my food with a side of tears, thank you,” she replied primly, earning a laugh from Sam.

“Hey, I have a question,” she said randomly.

“Shoot.”

“Don’t take offense; I’m legitimately curious. Did you go to college? I don’t know what the education requirements are for a police officer.” She chewed on her lip, suddenly nervous. Had she asked that stupidly? Would he be upset?

Evidently not, because he smiled and dug into the basket of fries the waitress dumped unceremoniously in the middle of the picnic table.

“It’s different for different departments. Williamson only requires a high school diploma. I wanted more, so I got a two-year law enforcement degree from a technical college not far from here. Then 6 months at the police academy.”

“What kinds of classes did you take? What did you study?”

“Mm, some foundational stuff like history of law enforcement, basic principles, juvenile delinquency. Actually, there was a whole class just on police reports. It was kind of mind-numbing,” Sam admitted.

“I can only imagine,” Sophie sympathized.

“I’m planning on going back to school part-time this fall. I want to study criminal psychology.” Sam actually looked a little uncomfortable admitting that. Sophie wondered if that information hadn’t been taken well by everyone he’d shared it with.

“That sounds amazing! I mean, terrifying to me, but so useful for you,” she admitted in a rush.

“That’s my hope. I want to be a negotiator someday, and it will be good to start with an understanding of the human mind,” he explained.

“Oh, my gosh. So much stress. God bless you for wanting to do that work,” she replied with a big smile.

“Thank you. I’m pretty excited for it.”

After that, little was said besides exclamations of delight over the food, with occasional stories of big-brother antics from their childhoods. By the time Sam dropped her off, walking her all the way to her apartment door, a lovely warm and fuzzy feeling had taken up residence. She felt happy and at peace, and thus it was not at all surprising when he gave her a very sweet good-night hug.

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 5: Firsts

Part 2: Sam

Sam Harrison wasn’t nervous for his firearm qualifications. He wasn’t nervous when he had to meet with his grand-boss. He wasn’t nervous when his radio squawked or his mother called or even when he heard Ryan was responding to a five-alarm fire.

He was, however, nervous about picking up Sophie for their date.

Sam didn’t date much. He could count all of his dates, first or otherwise, on just his fingers, and have a few to spare. Sure, New Albany had plenty of fine young ladies. They just didn’t flip his switch. Sophie… did.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been on shift all day, so he’d had very little to occupy his mind. He had cleaned his little 2-bedroom house, even though it didn’t need it. He had stocked his freezer, even though it didn’t need it. He had done three loads of laundry, which, in retrospect, had definitely been needed.

Despite his constant checking, when he could think of nothing else to do, his phone said it was only 5:23, which was way too early to begin the 4-minute drive from his neighborhood to Sophie’s. It was amazing the difference in neighborhood a 3-mile drive could make.

He had just resolved to take a walk around the block when his phone chimed a text notification.

Sophie: Are you free?

Sam just called her back.

“Hello?” Hmm. She sounded a little squeaky, like she did when she was upset.

“Hi, Sophie. What’s up?” He tried to keep a calm tone.

“I, um… I don’t… This feels silly, but did you, uh, send me… something?”

He could practically hear her nerves vibrating over the phone. Her vagueness set him on edge.

“What did you receive, Sophie?” he asked.

She let out a loud exhale. “Flowers.”

“I did not send you flowers,” he confirmed. “Is there a note?”

“No,” she whispered. “Why does that make me nervous?”

“It’s okay, Sophie. Just leave the flowers on the floor. Were they outside your door?”

“Yeah. I found them when I came home, but… I’m sorry, I brought them inside. I didn’t think anything was wrong until I couldn’t find a note. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Nothing to apologize for, Sophie, truly. You did what was normal. Just leave them where they are now, okay? I’ll be over in 5 minutes.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, then hung up. Sam drove as fast as he legally could, pulling into her building’s parking lot in 4 minutes. He cast a glance around downstairs, bummed yet again by the lack of cameras. Then he sprinted upstairs and knocked on her door.

“Thanks for coming,” she said as soon as she opened the door. Sam reached out and squeezed her hand.

“I’m happy to. I’m sorry the flowers made you nervous. Can I look?”

“Over there,” she nodded toward the kitchen. He gripped and released her hand, then walked over to the bouquet. It was a large arrangement, with flowers spreading tall and wide out of a square vase. He confirmed no visible card, and nothing indicated where the flowers had come from. There was only one flower shop in Williamson, and he made a mental note to give them a call first thing in the morning.

Fingerprints would likely be unhelpful. Sophie had touched the vase, and odds were good that whoever sent the flowers did not deliver them. Their best hope was that the flower shop had good records, cameras, or both.

“I’ll talk to the florist here in town in the morning, but there’s nothing else to do tonight. Mind if I take some pictures?” he asked.

“Go ahead,” Sophie replied, arms crossed around her waist. He took pictures from multiple angles before turning back to her.

“Do you want to keep them?” he asked.

“No,” she shuddered.

“Trash bags?”

“Under the sink,” Sophie pointed. He dug in the cabinet and pulled out a large enough bin liner to contain the whole arrangement. Then he packed it up.

“I’ll toss it on our way out. Do you need some time before dinner, or would you like to go now?” he offered.

Sophie looked down at herself. “Can I have 10 minutes?” She bit her lip.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. Take your time. Mind if I answer some emails from your living room?” He gestured with his phone.

“Make yourself at home,” she smiled back, then disappeared into her room.

Sam settled on the couch, but he didn’t answer emails right away. He sent just one, to his direct supervisor, Sgt. Victor Breitung. The man was a bloodhound with even the smallest mystery. Sam didn’t expect anything, but he knew he didn’t have the experience to do just about anything. He relayed the facts he knew as well as his plan to interview the florist in town when they opened in the morning.

To his utter lack of surprise, (Vic was chained to his cell phone, after all) Sam received a response before Sophie returned. Vic suggested a few specific questions to ask the florist, asked for the photos Sam had taken, and wondered if anything else suspicious had happened to Sophie lately.

“Hey, you ready?” Sam asked as he rose, then stopped to take in her appearance. She had changed out of her ill-fitting professional wear (why did the woman own nothing her size?) and into a pair of slim-cut jeans, sunshine-yellow sneakers, and a yellow-and-white polka dot sweater. She looked like sunshine incarnate, and he had to swallow a few times before he could process whatever she had just said.

“Sorry,” he shook his head. “You look really nice.”

Her cheeks flushed bright red as she looked down and wiggled her sneakers. “Uh, thanks.”

“Before we go, can I ask a quick question?”

“Sure,” she replied, wide-eyed.

“Has anything else unusual happened lately?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You mean like the flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Um… No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Think so?” he pushed.

“Well, there was a $5 Starbucks gift card under my windshield wiper one morning last week. I just figured someone was doing a random act of kindness.”

“Do you still have it?”

“Ah, no. I used it already. Sorry…”

“All good. I take it there was no note?”

She shook her head. “Nope. No writing at all. Just the card in the little paper holder.”

“All right. Thanks. Ready for the best burger in Washburn county?” He winked and held out his elbow for her. She laughed lightly as she slipped her fingers into the crook of his arm.

“A burger sounds delightful.”

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 5: Firsts

Part 1: Sophie

Even though she was convinced it wouldn’t turn out, Sophie forced herself to attempt a pasta and tuna casserole recipe she found on the internet in order to stave off the madness of waiting for Sam to call. Tuna, macaroni noodles, cheddar, and a weird can of creamy soup she picked up tonight – what could go wrong?

Apparently, everything. She didn’t have a means of shredding the cheese, so she chopped it as small as she could with a dull paring knife. The recipe didn’t specify to cook the noodles, so she didn’t. It also didn’t say whether she needed to thin the “condensed” soup, so she did.

45 minutes after putting what amounted to a weird bowl of sloshy stuff in the oven, her smoke alarm was going off, and she opened the oven to a homogeneous glob of food with burnt bits of still-hard noodle sticking out the top.

How in the world could food be still wet and yet burn?

Sophie shut off the oven in frustration and started flapping a towel near the smoke detector to try to get it to stop chirping. She opened all the windows to the 45-degree April night air. And of course, in the middle of hopping around with a towel, her phone rang.

“Hello?” she managed to speak, somewhat breathlessly, while trying to maintain towel movement.

“Sophie, it’s Sam,” he greeted.

“Hi!” she squeaked, but she had paused long enough that the smoke alarm started beeping again. “Ugh!” she groaned in exasperation.

“Are you all right?” Sam’s concern was obvious. “Should I call Ryan?”

“Huh?” Sophie’s brain couldn’t follow while she was trying once again to silence the thing.

“The fire department, Sophie. Is your apartment on fire?”

“No! No, just my pathetic attempt at cooking,” she grumbled. “Hang on.” She dropped her phone on the counter and resumed rapid towel movements long enough to silence the alarm again. Then she climbed awkwardly onto the counter and dismantled the alarm from its batteries, dropping the whole thing onto the floor as she climbed down.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized the moment she picked up the phone.

“No worries if you’re sure you’re okay?” He sounded doubtful. She huffed.

“I’m good.” Embarrassed and hungry, but unharmed.

“You sure? Ryan’s on shift tonight. I can get him there in less than 5 minutes.”

“Oh my goodness, no! Please. Just a smoking tuna casserole.”

“I feel like that should be a famous dish at a fancy restaurant. Smoking Tuna Casserole. You could make a fortune,” Sam teased.

“Not with this… glump,” Sophie grumbled.

Sam laughed out loud. “I have never heard of a ‘glump’, but I can actually envision it. Yuck.”

“Yuck, indeed,” Sophie agreed.

“Well, I’m on patrol so I can’t fix your dinner problem tonight. But what’s your calendar look like tomorrow? I’m off.”

“Thursday? Wide open.”

“How about I introduce you to The Barnyard? They make the best burgers in New Albany. And believe me, between Ryan, my dad, and I, we have tried every cheeseburger in the county.”

“I trust you. And that sounds delightful,” Sophie replied.

“Excellent. Can I pick you up at 6?”

“That works for me.” Butterflies accelerated from fluttering to Daytona-500-speed in her stomach. She was going on a date! Tomorrow! With Sam Harrison!

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sophie Lane,” Sam signed off with a smile in his voice. Sophie said goodbye, then dropped her phone on the counter and did a happy dance around her tiny kitchen.

She wanted to tell someone, but who could she text? Amy would be excited, but ask her ten million questions and be overly nosy. Her mother would analyze her outfit far more than Sophie cared to do, leaving her more nervous than excited. She hadn’t made deep friendships in high school or college or her new job.

Dad. What 23-year-old wanted to call her dad about a first date? But maybe it was okay to not be normal. Sophie grabbed her phone and put it on speaker while she started cleaning up her kitchen mess.

“Sweetie-pie! How’s my girl?” Dad’s cheerful voice never failed to boost her spirits.

“Bad and good,” she summarized.

Dad laughed. “Well, let’s get the bad out first so we can camp on the good. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing terrible. I just tried to cook and have a burned lump of goo. It’s gross. My smoke alarms went off.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry, sweetie-pie. I know that was never your strong suit, but I’m proud of you for trying.”

“Thanks, Dad. I was trying to take my mind of waiting for Sam to call.”

“Is this the good?”

“Yeah. He, um, asked me out,” she half-whispered, feeling suddenly nervous.

“Hey, that’s great! You’ve spoken highly of him in your emails. Where’s he taking you?”

Sophie spent 10 minutes talking about Sam and their date. At the end of the call, she was pleasantly surprised to find her kitchen almost back to normal, too.

Could she turn the clock ahead 24 hours? That would be marvelous…

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 4: Witness

Part 4: Sophie

She couldn’t sleep. Sophie had followed her most relaxing evening routine. The apartment had no tub, but she took a warm shower with a eucalyptus tablet to soothe her. She drank another cup of decaf tea. She ate a bowl of soft noodles, even though she wasn’t that hungry. When she was still awake at midnight, she texted Jonathan. It was only 10 in California.

Thanks for the noodle bowl!

She attached a picture of the silly cat bowl with noodles in it.

Cute. I’ll show Cici in the morning.

Thanks. 🙂

Why are you still up? Don’t you usually go to bed earlier?

Can’t sleep. I had a rough evening.

What happened?

Ever the big brother, Jonathan had never asked if she wanted to talk. Many times he felt like a bully, but ultimately Sophie knew he loved her.

I stopped an assault in my building lobby.

2 seconds later, the phone rang.

“Seriously, Soph?”

“Hello to you too, brother,” Sophie replied sarcastically.

“Sophie.”

She sighed. “I came home late from grocery shopping, and this guy was man-handling a girl in the lobby, yelling at her and pulling her hair. I didn’t think, I just yelled at him. She got away, and I happened to have my pepper spray in my hand so he didn’t come after me. I called the police, and everybody is fine,” she summarized as unemotionally as possible.

“Whoa. Slow down, there, kiddo.”

“I hate that nickname,” she groused.

“Tough. What made you think you should get involved in a physical altercation? Do you know these people?” Jonathan began his interrogation.

“I already gave a police report,” Sophie objected.

“And now you’ll give me a report,” Jonathan countered, then just waited.

“No, I don’t know them. And nothing made me think I should get involved. I just reacted, I told you that. Nobody else got hurt. And the policeman happened to be a friend of mine from church, so we’re all good.”

“Yet you’re still awake at midnight. Who’s the policeman?”

“His name is Sam Harrison. I met him doing that ride-along.”

“Ride-along?”

“Don’t you ever read your email, Jonathan? I send you, Mom, and Dad the same one every week,” Sophie chastised.

“I skim. Elaborate.”

“Fine. About a month ago, I got assigned to help rework the city’s marketing, specifically the law enforcement branch. I did a ride-along with Sam to see what a day in the life of an officer is like, and get a better feel for their work.”

“Sam?”

“Jonathan,” she growled.

“Is he a good guy?” Jonathan growled back.

“Yes,” Sophie replied emphatically. “He is an upstanding citizen, a police officer, a faithful church attendee, and respectful to his parents.”

“You met his parents?”

“His mom invited me for lunch after church. I repeat, read your emails.”

“Apparently,” Jonathan muttered, then sighed. “What do you need to fall asleep tonight?”

The question surprised her. Jonathan wasn’t touchy-feely. He’d always been more the kind of brother to beat up her bullies than ask if she was sad. She sighed too.

“I don’t know. I tried comfort food, tea, and a hot shower. Nothing helps.”

“Maybe you should text Sam,” Jonathan suggested out of the blue.

“What?” Sophie scoffed.

“He’s a good guy, right?” Jonathan countered.

“You’re weird. And you’ve been listening to Mrs. Striker too much.”

“I’m not matchmaking, kiddo. You obviously trust this guy, and being a police officer, I’m wondering if he knows a thing or two about how to remind you that you are safe. I’d give you a hug if I were there, Soph.”

A tear snuck down Sophie’s cheek before she could reply.

“Thanks, Jonathan. I’ll take a rain check.” She sniffed quietly.

“You got it. Go to sleep, kiddo. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Sophie stared at the black screen of her phone for 30 more minutes before she worked up enough courage – and fear – to text Sam.

This is Sophie Lane.

His response came less than a minute later.

Hi, Sophie Lane. Can’t sleep?

Darn insightful people…

No. My brother said I should text you.

I’m glad you did. Is your door locked?

Yes.

Windows shut and locked?

I live on the second floor.

And?

Sophie huffed before climbing out of bed to close and lock her bedroom window. She liked sleeping with fresh air, but maybe this was more important.

Done.

Good. Do you keep your phone by your bed?

Yeah. Why?

Then 911 and I are only a phone call or text away. Okay?

Okay.

Sophie cast around in her mind for something to say, but nothing came. She stared at the back of her eyelids, trying to fall asleep, but peace was just beyond her grasp.

Suddenly, the buzz of her phone ringing had her eyes opening. She swallowed down a jolt of nerves when she saw the name on her screen.

“H-hello?” she stammered.

“Hi, Sophie. Sorry if I scared you,” Sam’s mellow voice came over the line.

“No, it’s fine. I was just trying to fall asleep and failing.”

“I’m sorry. I could tell you were struggling, but texting just doesn’t go as well for me. What’s running through your mind?” Sam asked.

Sophie took a few deep breaths before answering. “I keep replaying the scene in my mind. I try to find more details, or remember words I forgot. But the more I watch it, the less I remember, the more confused I get, the more…” She swallowed, not wanting to acknowledge her fear.

“Scared?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah,” she admitted.

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” he reassured. “Want a suggestion?”

“Please.”

“Tell me about the most pleasant day you remember from last summer.”

What in the world? Such a weird request. Sophie cast around in her mind, finally settling on the farewell picnic her mom had prepared.

“Before I moved here, my mom and dad had a little picnic with me in the back yard of our house in Peshicot,” she said, hearing her own voice soften with warmth at the memory.

“Walk me through it. What was the weather like? What did you see and hear? How did the food taste?”

Sophie began talking about the blazing sun, the shade under the canopy, her mom’s cactus garden and dry river, the crackers with cream cheese and prickly pear jelly she loved… She talked for at least 5 minutes straight before realizing both that she was rambling, and that she was deliciously relaxed.

“Whoa. Thank you,” she said fervently.

“You’re welcome, but I think I should say thank you for my first taste of Arizona. You’re making me want to go.”

“You definitely should. It’s so different from Wisconsin, but beautiful in its own way,” Sophie encouraged.

“I’ll think about it. In the meantime, can I give you one other thing to think about?”

“Sure!” She was already feeling worlds better. What else was there?

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Sophie’s heart stopped, then took off like a freight train. Sure, she’d had dinner invites before, but never from someone who managed to make her feel so much – safe and nervous all at once.

“Um, y-yes,” she stammered. “Please.”

She could hear Sam’s smile in his voice. “Excellent. Then you think about that and your Arizona picnic. I’ll call you tomorrow night to work out the details. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“G’night, Sophie.”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

How was a girl supposed to get any sleep with a date on her mind? And yet, within 10 minutes, Sophie drifted off with a dorky grin on her face.

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 4: Witness

Part 3: Sam

The second the door shut behind Katie and Denise, Sam stared at the door until Sophie flipped the deadbolt with an eye-roll.

“You’re here. What’s going to happen?” she asked. On anyone else, the question would have sounded snobbish and bratty. On Sophie? Naive and sheltered. Her poor big brother must have gone through the ringer when she was in high school.

“Locking doors is a simple safety precaution that even I take in my own home. We lock the precinct. Leaving your front door unlocked when you’re a witness to a crime is a very bad idea,” he replied, masking his exasperation beneath a somewhat false facade of calm.

“Oh,” was all Sophie replied, furrowing her brow in thought.

“Mind if we sit?” Sam gestured to her loveseat and chair.

“Oh, goodness, of course. Do you want some tea or water?” she offered.

“No, thank you, but help yourself if you do,” Sam replied as he took a seat in the single chair.

“I was making Denise tea…” Sophie trailed off, chewed on her bottom lip, then scurried into the kitchen. Sam barely kept his smile contained as he waited for her to return. She was so… quirky. Quiet, but in a peaceful sort of way.

He was beyond grateful that she was unharmed, and took the minute she was gone to say a quick prayer.

“Thanks,” Sophie mumbled as she settled into the far corner of the loveseat. She tucked her feet carefully under her, smoothing down her skirt. Between her palms she held a huge yellow mug with a smiley face. She inhaled deeply of the steam, then blew gently on the hot liquid.

“What do I need to do now?” she asked after she had taken a tentative sip. Sam balanced his pocket notepad on his knee.

“Walk me through what happened tonight,” he prompted.

Sophie nodded, staring across the room toward the kitchen. Sam knew it was normal for people to not make eye contact when recalling an event.

“When I came home tonight, I was going through the lobby like normal when I heard a woman – Denise – cry out like she was in pain. I hadn’t seen them because they were tucked under the stairs. The man had his hand in her hair. He was very angry. He yelled at her. I, uh, I yelled too. He let her go enough that she could pull away, and I told her to go upstairs. Then we came here.” Sophie paused with a frown on her face. Sam just waited.

“I know I said more, but I can’t remember. I don’t understand,” Sophie muttered.

“It’s normal for the adrenaline rush to cloud your memory. It may come back, and it may not. Don’t pressure yourself to remember more than you can right now. Just tell me what comes to mind,” Sam tried to reassure and encourage.

Sophie nodded and sipped her tea. The silence grew between them, but Sam forced himself to remain patient.

“I told him to stay away, and he said something like, ‘Why would I want to stay away from a…’” her voice trailed off as she swallowed. She took two deep breaths. “‘A pretty thing like you,’” she finished on a whisper.

Emotions in your back pocket, Sam reminded himself as he felt anger at the unknown suspect rise.

“Do you remember anything else he said?” he prompted.

Sophie chewed on her lip again. “I don’t think so… Wait! He told the woman something about staying out of things that weren’t her business. Or stay out of his business. Something like that.”

“Any hints or details on what business that might be?”

“No.”

“Did he touch you at all?” Sam hated that question, but it needed to be asked.

“No,” Sophie denied with a head shake. “He came at me, but I had grabbed my pepper spray earlier because my-” She stopped abruptly, looking at him with pink cheeks and a guilty expression.

“It’s all right,” Sam said the first thing he could think of to reassure her.

“I’m sorry. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to take two trips, so I was carrying my work bag and three shopping bags, but I still tried to be a little bit smart and put the bags over my wrists so I could hold my pepper spray in one hand and I did get my keys out before I walked away from my car.” Sophie’s words tumbled out in such a rush that Sam had to work hard to process everything she said. When she finished speaking, she cradled her mug in her left hand and held up her right, palm towards him. He noticed half a dozen little cuts on her palm.

“What’s that?” he gestured, frowning.

“I guess I got scared and squeezed my keys too hard,” she replied quietly, gaze averted.

“I’m glad you had them out, Sophie,” he said with a smile. That earned him at least a flicker of a glance.

“Did you wash your hand when you got back?” he asked.

“Uh, no.” Sophie frowned.

“Why don’t you take care of that right now, please,” Sam suggested. She nodded and set her mug on the coffee table, and returned a minute later with clean hands. Sam pondered her words while she was gone, eternally grateful that the threat from a tiny canister of pepper spray kept this suspect at bay.

“Okay. You referred to him earlier as a druggy. What gave you that impression?” Sam headed in a new direction.

“His skin was kind of yellow. His eyes were bloodshot. He smelled bad. He was super skinny. His clothes were filthy. And he was jumpy, underneath his anger,” Sophie rattled off.

Wow. That was… observant.

“What did he look like? Height, size, hair color, etc?” Sam prompted.

“Dark hair, almost black. It was long-ish but shaggy like his cut grew out too long, not intentionally.” She held her hand up to her ear. “It was this long.”

Sam jotted notes, nodding to encourage her to keep talking.

“His eyes were also dark. He was white, paler than me I think. Um… height, you said? I didn’t get that close to him, but I think he was taller than me. I’m 5’8″,” she supplied.

“What was he wearing?”

“Dirty jeans and a t-shirt from some rock band.”

“Shoes?”

“Oh. Uh… I don’t remember. I didn’t look. I was too worried about his head and hands.”

“All good. Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Sam asked his standard end-of-interview question. Sophie squinted, brow furrowed, as she thought.

“Is there something missing?” she finally asked.

Sam barely resisted smiling. Sophie was a pleaser.

“Not that I can see, but if you think of anything else, even something that seems insignificant to you, just tell me. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded, and finally, her face relaxed into a little smile.

“Did you get your groceries put away?” Sam asked.

The sudden switch to something personal apparently threw Sophie for a second, but a glance in the corner showed her plastic bags sitting next to her book bag.

“Oops! No,” she squeaked, jumping up from the couch.

“I’ll let you get to that,” Sam said as he rose. “I need to get back to work. But I meant what I said – if you think of anything, call. Also, if you need anything, call. If you see that man again, call.”

He laid a business card on the kitchen counter next to where Sophie was clutching one of her grocery bags.

“My work cell is on the front, but here…” He grabbed a pen from his pocket and scribbled on the back of the card. “My personal cell, too. For any non-emergencies.” He smiled, and she did too.

“Thank you, Sam. I’m glad it was you who came,” Sophie commented softly, fingers nervously picking at the handle of the grocery bag.

“Me too, Sophie. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” she replied. She followed him to the door, and he listened to the deadbolt slide home before walking away. He couldn’t stop the little curious voice in his mind that wondered – would she call?

Find all the parts of this story here.

Chapter 4: Witness

Part 2: Sam

Sam was getting a little bored on patrol when his radio crackled.

“Assault at 1900 5th street, possibly still in progress,” came the clear dispatcher’s voice.

Panic slammed Sam’s gut a split second before he picked up his radio.

“Show 793 responding,” he barked out. He flipped on his lights as he executed the fastest (but still safe) U-turn of his life. He screeched to a stop outside Sophie’s building not 30 seconds later, requesting an update from the dispatcher. He should have more information by now.

“Assault occurred in the building lobby. Vic and caller are in apartment 204, second floor on the left.”

Sam knew. Before the dispatcher described the location, he knew it was Sophie.

But wait. Victim and caller?

“Suspect?”

“Left him in the lobby.”

“Show me 10-96,” Sam updated, giving the code to indicate both that he was now on foot and that he wanted backup.

“10-4, 793.”

He leapt from his cruiser, leaving the lights flashing, and sprinted toward the front doors. At the last minute, he remembered to shove his emotions in his back pocket and use his training and logic. He stood to the side of the front door and peered through the glass.

The poorly lit lobby was empty, but he couldn’t see behind the staircase toward the hallways. He opened the door cautiously with his left hand and kept his right hand hovering over his weapon.

It took less than a minute to ensure no one was in the lobby or the first-floor hallways. By that point, another cruiser had appeared outside. He waited for his backup – Officer Katie Fleming – before ascending the stairs. They quietly tag-teamed up to ensure the second floor hallway was also devoid of humans.

“You want me to come with you to check on the vic?” Katie offered.

“Please,” Sam nodded, swiftly approaching apartment 204. He reached for the radio at his shoulder before knocking.

“Show 793 and 814 entering apartment to take vic statement,” he reported.

“10-4, 793. 11-40 please.” Sure – let him know if an ambulance was needed.

“Will do.”

Sam took a steadying breath before knocking. He had no clue what he would find behind this door. Who was the vic? Who had called? Most terrifying – was Sophie hurt? He hadn’t spoken to her outside of church the last two Sundays, but he had spent pretty much all his free time, and a not insignificant amount of patrol time, thinking about her.

He forced himself to knock before he got any deeper in thought. It only took a few seconds before the deadbolt moved and the door was flung open.

Sophie.

Sam exhaled fully for the first time in 10 minutes.

“Sam!” she exclaimed, some of the worry line fading from her forehead.

“Please tell me you checked the peephole first,” he couldn’t help poking at her.

“Of course,” she replied earnestly, eyes wide. “I needed to make sure it wasn’t the…” She glanced behind her, then leaned in closer to whisper – “druggy from downstairs.”

Deep breaths, Sam reminded himself. Deep breaths. And protocol. That would save him from the insanity of this reckless woman.

“May we come in?” he asked, choosing to not respond to her commentary just yet.

“Of course,” Sophie practically jumped back from the opening. She held the door wide and eyed Katie warily as the cop duo made their way into her tiny living room.
Nothing had changed in her apartment since the night he had given her safety tips, except that she had turned on every single lightbulb in a 2-mile radius. Oh, and the bottle-job redhead on the couch was new.

“Sophie, this is Officer Katie Fleming,” Sam introduced his coworker, who shook hands with Sophie. “Officer Fleming, my friend Sophie Lane from church.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Lane,” Katie replied with a smile. “Who’s your friend?” she asked, nodding her head toward the redhead.

“Oh, um…” Sophie hesitated, chewing on her lip. “The man downstairs called her Denise, but she hasn’t said anything to me since I convinced her to wait in here. I’ve never met her before tonight.”

The redhead kept her eyes down, hands twisting nervously in her lap. She sat on the loveseat cross-legged.

“Did you place the 911 call?” Sam asked.

“Mmhmm,” Sophie nodded and bit her lip again. Her gaze bounced between Sam, Katie, and Denise.

“Divide and conquer?” Katie asked, casting her glance toward Denise. Sam got it – he could get more out of Sophie since he knew her, so even if Denise clammed up with Katie, they’d get one good accounting. He nodded.

“Is there another place we could talk separately from Denise and Officer Fleming?” Sam asked Sophie.

She stared at him like he’d asked her to solve a quadratic equation.

“It’s a one-bedroom,” she finally spoke on a very delayed exhale.

Duh. No other place to go besides her bedroom, which wasn’t great for making a police statement.

“Denise? I’m Katie,” Katie spoke softly as she crossed the room. Sam watched before asking Sophie anything further.

“Hi,” Denise squeaked, then cleared her throat. Sam noticed Sophie watched with rapt attention, too.

“Are you hurt?” Katie asked, her tone reminiscent of one he’d use for scared stray dogs – so soft, so gentle, that you couldn’t possibly feel threatened. Katie was 100% the right officer for this task.

“N-no,” Denise stuttered. “He only pulled my hair.” She ran a hand over her vibrant hair before flicking a glance at Sophie. Sam was itching for details.

“How would you feel about riding with me down to the station to get your statement, Denise?” Katie asked, still maintaining that soothing voice.

“I, uh… I guess I can do that,” Denise finally answered after a few hard swallows. Sam imagined she had probably had less-than-pleasant interactions with a police station already. It showed a certain amount of fortitude that she was willing to go now.

“Thank you.” Katie held out a hand, and Denise rose from the couch, following Katie from the room. Denise paused at the doorway to look at Sophie.

“Thank you-” she paused, her voice choking. It took her a minute and working her jaw back and forth a few times to compose herself enough to speak again. “Thank you for helping me.”

Sophie took the woman’s offered hand in both of hers and squeezed gently.

“I’m thankful I was in the right place at the right time for you. I hope everything works out for you,” Sophie spoke earnestly, but with a smile.

“You, too,” Denise gave a tiny smile, and then she and Katie were gone.