Page 61 of Angels In The Dark

Her response is immediate but not altogether surprising. She’s been with me every step of the way and somehow makes things happen I can never fathom. I can’t tell her no at this point, but I wish I hadn’t dragged her into this with me. She should get to live a normal life. She doesn’t need this shit.

“Jay, I’m coming with you. You’re not going without someone to watch your back. If it makes you feel better, I’ll hang back and keep an eye on things. Kay?”

Satisfied with the plan, we make our way to the car and drive to meet the officer.

I hang back while Rosie goes inside, but I immediately spot the officer upon entering as there don’t appear to be any other men here. There’s something about him that screams protector. He looks like he straddles the line separating the bad guys from the good. Between his toned body and tattoos, you know he is a physically powerful man. But dressed in washed-out jeans, a faded T-shirt, boots, and a beaten-up jacket, he also gives off an endearing energy. When I approach, he stands and holds out his hand. I notice how tall he is, but looking up at him doesn’t put the fear of goddess in you. More like he is your guard or knight from some fairy tale, ready to protect and serve.

I try to keep my body loose, but I want this over as fast as possible. I try to calm my thoughts by reminding myself this isn’t any different from every one of my conversations with the police so far.

I’m not going to learn anything new from him. I’ll stick to the narrative. There’s no need to add any additional details. He’s another cop asking the same questions we’ve been over before.

Only it’s not how the conversation starts.

“Hi, thanks for meeting me,” he says. The rapid pace of his words has me on alert. There’s definitely something going on with this guy. It’s only a matter of figuring out what. “I learned about Jules’s case, and I want to help if I can. I know they closed the case, but if she’s still missing, then someone should be looking.”

Shock ricochets through me. This is a lot more than general interest, and I have a feeling this conversation is not going to go how I expected.

“Yeah, Detective Bacon called me earlier this week to give me the news.” I keep my reply short.

“It’s bullshit and politics. I want to help… if I can.”

“I’ve already told the police everything I know.”

“I know. I just… I want to know more about her. Maybe if I have a better feel of who she is, then tracking her down will be easier.” His response seems thoughtful in an almost personal way.

Over his shoulder, I finally spot Rosie, who has angled her body more in our direction. Something must have piqued her interest as well.

I contemplate his request and decide there is no harm in telling him more about Juliana. I share about how we met in school and the business we built together. He asks questions about what kind of person she is, her character and morals.

As we talk, he visibly relaxes. As though hearing about her is a comfort. Which is an absurd idea. When I begin telling him about the kidnapping, he’s right back to being a cop. But again, everything he asks only covers the same information already in the reports a thousand times over.

“I appreciate you meeting me. I know this must feel endless, but I want to help. I want to get her back home and make sure she’s okay, that’s all,” he says.

His words aren’t those of an objective outsider. It sounds personal. There’s no way they know each other. If they did, then I would know about him too, right?

I sit there with my cold coffee as the man collects his things and says goodbye. But I barely register his departure before Rosie slides into his place.

“I don’t think I was the only one listening in on you, Jay,” she whispers. The words are confident with a hint of wary concern. “There was a young guy nearby that came in after you. He sat there drinking a coffee while you talked. But he wasn’t on a computer or his phone. He didn’t have a book or newspaper. He just kind of sat there. I couldn’t see his face though, and he left before you finished up.”

I only stare at her while processing the information.

We both became more aware of oddities since all this started. It’s more necessary to keep track of details and people. Rosie is excellent at it. Me? Not so much. I didn’t notice the guy at all. But the fact he was here is concerning.

Or it could be nothing.

I look down at my coffee and see a card placed there. Vaguely I recall the cop, Griffin, giving it to me and mentioning he wrote his direct number, which I still think is pointless. I pocket the card anyway.

“We need to go back to the club. Now,” I say.