Page 54 of Welcome Home for Christmas
Detective Hansley handed him the receiver on his desk phone.
Troy stared at it, then looked up at Hansley. “Can you look up a citizen’s name for me? Her number is programmed into my cellphone and I don’t have that on me.” If he had, he wouldn’t have been in this situation.
Detective Hansley grimaced. “I’m not supposed to do that.”
Troy leaned forward. “And I wasn’t supposed to catch the Seaside burglar because this isn’t my district. Sometimes we have to stretch the rules in order to make things right.”
Detective Hansley nodded. “Indeed, we do.” He typed into his computer, grabbed a pen, and wrote down Allison’s number.
“Thanks,” Troy said, taking the paper and dialing. It rang until it went to voice mail and Troy cursed. He tried again. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chanted, as if that would somehow help Allison move to the phone. She was pissed at him.
Her voice mail picked up.
“Allison, it’s Troy. I’m sorry about being late. I got caught up with, uh…”—he looked at Detective Hansley—“police business. I’ll fill you in when I leave the SPD. I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you, though….Okay, bye.” He handed the receiver back to the detective. “Let’s get this over with.”
The detective nodded and started the questioning. An hour later, Troy walked out of the Seaside Police Department tired and on edge. He drove by Allison’s, but she wasn’t home. Returning to the scene of the crime, he retraced his steps to his blinking cellphone tossed under a cluster of bushes by the house. He’d missed four calls from Allison earlier in the night.
Shit.
Maybe tomorrow she’d wake up and not be angry with him. Then he could explain what had happened and they could continue with their weekend arrangement. Maybe, since they’d lost an entire night together, they could even extend their arrangement.
Yeah. He was going to hope for the best. This was the season of miracles after all.
Troy awoke the next morning feeling like he hadn’t slept at all. He’d tossed restlessly all night in his bed waiting for the sun to come up so he could go explain things to Allison. He was a hero, but he didn’t feel like one right now. A hero would’ve caught the burglar and then called his date in a timely manner to cancel.
He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sat up. Six a.m. He wanted to catch Allison first thing, before she had an opportunity to start fuming over the fact that he’d stood her up. Easier to cool off a lukewarm mood than a spitfire boiling one.
He dressed and drove to the Seaside Café for two cups of coffee and two extra-large cinnamon buns, which he remembered were her favorite. Sugar was a nice incentive. Passing the newsstand, he saw the headline:SEASIDE BURGLAR CAUGHT IN THE ACT. He paid the fifty cents to get a copy and took it, along with the caffeine and sugar to Allison’s. It was seven o’clock when he finally rang the doorbell. Early, but he couldn’t wait any longer to make things right.
He waited on the porch. No answer.
He rang the doorbell again. Then he pulled out his cellphone and dialed. The line connected, but she didn’t say anything.
“Listen, I know you’re mad, but I have a good explanation.”
“I’m sure you think that you do,” she said. Not lukewarm, he thought. Boiling.
“I also have coffee and a cinnamon bun for you. You can consume them while I talk. And if you don’t like what I have to say, then you can ask me to leave.”
The lock clicked and the door opened. Allison stared back at him, arms crossed, lips pressed. Otherwise, gorgeous.
She stepped back and allowed him to come inside. He handed her the peace offering he’d brought, which she snatched and carried to the kitchen table. He followed her over and laid the newspaper in front of her as she sat down. Troy sat in the chair beside her, waiting for her to read the headline.
She sipped her coffee first, then took a bite of her cinnamon roll. “You can start talking now,” she finally said.
“I thought the newspaper would be my icebreaker.”
She glanced over, read for a moment, and gasped. “Oh, my God.” She pulled the paper closer and continued reading, gasping again. “Henry. Oh, no.” She shook her head as her posture wilted in the chair.
Not the reaction Troy was expecting. “You know this guy?”
She set her cinnamon bun down on a napkin. “He’s one of the veterans who comes to the Center. I gave him my lunch the other day because he was hungry. I thought he must’ve been down on his luck.” She looked up at him, no longer boiling. “I encouraged him to come to one of our groups….I can’t believe he’s the guy who’s been robbing people. How could I have been so wrong about him?”
Troy shrugged. “He barely put up a fight.”
“You caught him?”
“On my way to see you. I lost my cellphone in the scuffle and had to go back to the police station to give my report. It was a big mess, but I’m here now. And I’m really sorry.”
