“Derek! Mama needs some cuddling time!”
Chapter Twenty-One
What the fuck?
Jaime cut the engine outside her apartment, squinting through the windshield. Lights flashed and sirens blared around her, echoing as they bounced from wall to wall. What the hell had gone on here?
“Maybe go and find out instead of sitting in your car!” Jaime yanked her keys from the ignition, stepping out of her car as another police vehicle rushed past her, suddenly screeching to a stop behind several others. “Oh, this looks bad.” She rushed towards the cordon in place, ducking under it as she flashed her badge at the officer standing close by. “Detective Baros. What’s going on here?”
“Shooting.” He nodded towards another detective who was crouched over a body in the alleyway across from Jaime’s apartment. “Detective Steele was first on scene.”
Jaime braced herself for whatever she was about to be faced with. Something felt off inside her, her stomach roiling as she took a step closer… then another. It was almost as if she had been here before, in this moment, but she couldn’t begin to explain how or why.
Realistically, she should have gone straight up to her apartment to spend what was left of their anniversary with Taylor, but she couldn’t just walk away from this. This was the job; it was in her veins. Without this, Jaime didn’t know who she was.
As she neared the scene, Jaime stopped in her tracks. She could see the Converse the victim was wearing. Taylor had the very same pair. White, with a rainbow sole. They were popular. Jaime remembered how difficult it had been for Taylor to find a pair for herself. But Jaime had saved the day when she’d had a pair shipped in from Europe, surprising Taylor with them on her birthday.
That sinking feeling she’d had when she arrived had just intensified a little. “You’re always thinking the worst.” Jaime shook her head. Taylor would be at home, sulking on the couch because they hadn’t managed to have dinner with one another. But Jaime would make it up to her. Taylor knew she would.
“Detective Steele?”
He turned, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “Baros, good to see you.”
“I was passing. What do we have?” Jaime glanced over his shoulder, unable to see any more of the victim.
“Shooting. Abdomen. Woman in her early thirties, no identification on her. Seems she bled out, which isn’t surprising given the fact this alleyway isn’t really the kind of place people would frequent.” Steele flipped his pocketbook open. “She was found by a resident who lives across the street.”
“What was she doing down the alleyway?”
“The victim or the resident?”
Jaime dragged a hand through her hair. “Well, both, I guess.”
“Resident was out walking…” He checked his notes. “Coco Chanel. Toy Poodle. It was the dog that alerted her to the victim.”
“Good work, Coco.” Jaime nodded towards the alleyway. “You mind if I take a look? This is my street. Maybe I know her.”
Detective Steele stepped aside, revealing the victim where she lay inside the alleyway. Jaime frowned, then she blinked repeatedly. The victim was wearing the same light jacket Taylor owned. Jaime knew it was the same because she’d also bought her fiancée the very same one while they were on vacation in New York seven months ago. “I, uh…” She hesitated, trying to get her mind straight. This couldn’t be Taylor. Why would it be?
“Anything, Baros?” Detective Steele stepped up beside her, but Jaime couldn’t bring herself to look at the face of the victim. Deep down, she knew where this was going.
“Yeah, it’s—”Jaime inhaled a deep breath, her eyes closed as she crouched down. She swallowed, knowing she could smell Taylor’s distinctive perfume mixed in with the metallic stench of blood. Jaime opened her eyes and slowly cast her gaze on the face of the victim.
It was… “Anya?”
Jaime shot bolt upright in bed, her body covered in sweat. She’d had this nightmare many times since she had lost Taylor, but this time it wasn’t Taylor at all. It was Anya. How…why? Jaime shifted, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed, and placed her head in her hands. This had to stop. She couldn’t deal with the nightmares coming back again.
They’d stopped—mostly—since she’d first laid eyes on Anya. Lady A. Whichever. The point was that they’d become far less frequent, and Jaime was beginning to feel as though there was some light at the end of a very dark, very depressing tunnel. Sure, she’d initially felt guilty for her lack of dreams when itcame to Taylor, but she was on the road to accepting that she was moving on. Forward. And it was Anya who had set that plan in motion.
Jaime rose to her feet and peered out of her bedroom window. The very window that looked out onto the alleyway to the side of the liquor store. All was quiet. There wasn’t a soul in sight. She pressed her forehead to the wall at the side of the window and sighed. “Oh, Anya. What the hell are you doing to me…”
Jaime stretchedin the middle of Max’s living room, almost certain the monumental amount of food she had just devoured would come back up if she didn’t lie down soon. It wasn’t ideal to be practically in a food coma, not tonight. Because tonight was the night she was going to come clean to Max. She’d accepted his offer to come over for dinner, and now that it was over, it was time.
“Beer on the porch?” Max asked, nudging her shoulder with a bottle of Bud.
She smiled, followed him outside, and closed the door behind them. “I forgot just how much I loved Rosanna’s Sloppy Joe’s. But the apple pie?” Jaime groaned as she slowly lowered herself into a seat. “I think the apple pie has finished me off. I’m good for nothing now.”
“She’s happy you’re here. You should come over more often. You know she hates you being at your place alone.”
