Page 56 of Jackson
She couldn’t go out for a one-night stand because of him, too. She couldn’t bring herself to go out and lose herself in some random man’s touch.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Clubbing for sex had lost its luster. Instead, here she was, voluntarily at work on New Year’s Day.
She shook her head and focused on the files in front of her. If she couldn’t lose these thoughts, at least she could bury them under work.
She should have volunteered to work the night before, too. It would have been more fun. So far, New Year’s Day had been pretty quiet. There had been some celebratory gunfire the night before, but that was the night shift’s problem. She was stuck shuffling through her open cases to see where she might make progress on a holiday.
Her mind flickered back to Jackson, to the way he used to pick up on connections she sometimes missed. He had a damn good instinct for crime patterns.
Her chest tightened.
No. I’m not thinking about him.
She found an open burglary file and started reading through it. The thieves had entered the house while the family had been out to a party on Christmas Eve. She tapped her teeth with her pen.I wonder, I wonder.She pulled up reports of calls from the night before.
Nothing. Wait. There it was.
At 4:10 am a call had come in from a couple who said their house had been burgled while they had been out the night before. No detective had been assigned to the case yet, so Paula put herself in before someone else could claim it. Two burglaries with the same M.O. could mean nothing, but they could be connected. Paula had made sergeant by noticing things.
And yet?—
As she leaned back in her chair, rolling a kink out of her neck, her mind betrayed her again.
Jackson.
If he were here, he’d already have half a theory worked out. He’d be looking over her shoulder, teasing her about how long it took her to notice.
She read through the report from the patrolman twice, and the method of entry matched the Christmas Eve robbery. If it was the same crew, was it possible there had been more hits the same nights and nobody had connected them yet? She started digging, and by lunchtime, she had eight robberies on Christmas Eve, twelve the night before, and when she went back further, there were another three on Thanksgiving Day.
Jackpot!
Here was something she could sink her teeth into and distract herself with at the same time. She made notes on all the cases and the various detectives assigned. None of the others were working that day, so follow-up would have to wait until tomorrow. She could check in with the previous night’s victims. It was late enough in the day now that they would probably be up.
Her stomach rumbled, and she went into the break room to grab her lunch. She had bread from The Sweet and Savory Table and soup she’d made the previous weekend. She’d never known soup could be so easy. If only Jackson had been there to see her kitchen success.
She could almost hear his voice.Look at you, Paula. Domestic goddess in the making.
A memory hit her—one she hadn’t let herself replay in weeks.
She stood at his counter, sleeves rolled up, hands covered in flour.
Jackson leaned against the opposite counter, arms folded over his chest, watching her.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
Paula scowled at him. “I follow instructions just fine, thanks.”
“Uh-huh.” He pushed off the counter and came up behind her, his warmth pressing against her back. He reachedaround, adjusting her grip on the rolling pin. “You’re manhandling the dough. Be firm but gentle.”
The way he said ‘gentle’ sent a shiver down her spine.
She swallowed, trying to focus on the task at hand. “I’m making a pie, not?—”
His fingers skimmed her wrist, guiding her movements.
Her breath caught.
