Page 16 of Fly Back to Me
I should be more than satisfied with a two-week turnaround time from Rico’s. But now that my knuckles are white around the steering wheel, I could’ve used some more time to cook up this scheme. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“Probably because you’re about to admit to purposely stealing someone else’s ring,” Lauren jokes from the passenger seat.
I chew on my bottom lip, my eyes still glued to the infinite brick of the Federal-style building. “Would it kill you to be serious?”
She holds up her hands. “All kidding aside, there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s not like you’re meeting withhim.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I guess that’s true. Officer Bellmont knows I’m visiting this morning, and I’m not asking him to do anythingoutlandish.” My lips contort in trepidation as Lauren’s silence fuels my doubt. “Right?” I demand.
“No, not really.” The last syllable stretches a beat too long, and my anxiety fills to the brim. “You’re doing the right thing, but we can leave out the part about your ankle. You know, the one that’s wrapped in a duplicated version of the ring that belongs to your knight in shining armor.”
I rest my attention on Lauren, shooting a palm out while my opposite forearm rests on the steering wheel. “You’re being overly dramatic about this anklet. You act as if I’m murdering a person. Or worse, a dog.”
Her brows briefly crinkle, my statement throwing her for a loop until she smirks. “I was going to correct you, but you’re totally right. Killing a dog is worse. Nice catch, Liv.”
“Exactly,” I say. “See? My head is screwed on straight, and you’re being dramatic.”
Her brown eyes glare at me, a finger landing on the center of her crewneck sweatshirt. “I’mbeing dramatic? Says the woman obsessed with someone she doesn’t even know.”
A scoff tumbles from my throat, my gaze directing forward again. “I am not obsessed with him,” I counter. “I’mintrigued.”
Lauren huffs a breath, bending down to grab the white box resting beside her sneakers. “Go.” She slaps the cardboard into my chest, and my hands reflexively cradle the sides of the carton. “Before you change your mind.”
My eyes loll to her, shining with appreciation when she jerks her chin toward the driver’s side door.
Before I change my mind.
“He’s still in jail.”
Nausea violently slaps me with the mention of my attacker. Words roll into a large lump in my throat, and my fingers curlfirmly around the edges of the box in my lap.
My thighs tense through my distressed jeans as Officer Bellmont’s eyes apologize to me for what I already know. At the end of the day, my assaulter will eventually be released. It’s not a matter ofif, but a matter ofwhen.
Black filing cabinets in the corner of the office trap my attention, and I wonder if his information is stowed away there.
No.
Ignorance is bliss, Olivia.
My chest bloats with an intake of breath, head sloping down so my gaze can latch onto the ivory package sitting on my lap. “I’d like to ask a favor,” I start, subtly shifting in the seat across from Officer Bellmont. “I’m really hoping you’ll be able to help me.”
“A favor?” he echoes.
“Yes.” My eyes drag up to his, and those hazel saucers glimmer with surprise. “But I really need you to trust me.”
He sinks back into his chair, elbows resting on either arm so his hands can interlock before him. “Why don’t we just start with what the favor actually is?”
“I really need to thank the man who rescued me.”
A lopsided smile appears on his lips, and he softly shakes his head in disapproval. “I’m sorry, Ms. Sawyer. I already told you I can’t give you any of his personal information. That’s not something we can negotiate on.”
I lower my stare to the gold emblem of his navy uniform, defeat threatening to heist my operation. “I’m not asking you for his personal information. I’m not asking you for a single detail about his life.”
“Then what are you asking?”
I shake out a breath, my fingers whisking the curtain bangs plunging from my beanie. “I need you to give him something. A few things,” I begin, only to desperately search his eyes rightafter. “And I promise that none of my personal information is in this box. I respect his wish to remain anonymous and will keep his wish granted. If you don’t believe me, you can look for yourself and make sure I’ve included nothing about me in here.” I raise the box to plant it on the cherry wood desktop. “Except the fact that I’m the woman he saved,” I shamelessly confess.
Officer Bellmont’s brows draw together before extending an arm over the desk. Eventually, his palm finds the top of the carton, and then he’s sliding it toward him.
