Chapter 3
Between chasing down speeders, solving minor thefts, assisting the homeless into their new homes at shelters, not to mention phone calls to my father’s home nurse, things felt like a regular pandemic day. Major crime only started to take a spike recently. If there were zombies, even then, I wouldn’t take off my protective uniform, but I’d at least get some cardio.
I pulled into a strip mall parking lot and parked to pick up lunch from a local sub sandwich restaurant beside the grocery store I investigated a few weeks ago. This restaurant supported the community by giving proceeds to local firehouses, paramedics, and the like, so it was one of my main food stops. My day’s plan was simple: grab lunch, check-in on the store clerk to see how she’d been, then meet up with my partner. Perhaps I was just nosy to find out if the sparks I’d seen between Chrissy and Kyle ignited a flame, but I was ultimately concerned, too.
Turning my head, I reached for the door handle to get out but stopped when I noticed an older male parked beside me with his head slanted, and his eyes closed, sitting in the front passenger seat. He looked to be approximately my father’s age. I stepped out and knocked on his window. He was unresponsive, and his chest didn’t appear to be moving so I didn’t think he was sleeping. I pulled his door’s handle, but it was locked so I walked around to the driver’s side window to get a better look at him, knocked on it a little harder and gave the handle a tug. The weather was hotter than usual for a spring day with temporary rising temperatures this week. I knew we would see a lot more of these types of situations, of people being left in vehicles with the windows up.
I knocked a third time, and still, he remained unresponsive even after calling out to him. “Sir, I am a police officer, and your doors are locked. Are you okay?”
Nothing.
“Sir, if you don’t respond, then I will assume you are in need of emergency assistance and will break this window. Sir, can you please talk to me?”
I walked back over to my patrol car to call for help on the radio inside, but the handle wouldn’t pull to open. Ah, fuck! The door locked, and I left my keys sitting in the ignition. I was in a hurry to get to the man that I forgot to grab my keys. I didn’t think the door had locked itself. I pulled the handle again, but it was definitely locked. I reached for my side radio then fell to the ground.
A light flashed into my eyes and woke me up from what felt like a nap. When my eyes fully opened, I looked around and found myself sitting in my patrol vehicle, driver side door open, with two paramedics shining a flashlight into my face that burned my eyelids in combination with the sunlight. I moved my hand to shield the heat from my face, but they’d cuffed my wrist to the steering wheel.
“Why am I handcuffed? What did I do wrong?” I ordered.
One paramedic turned off the flashlight and smiled. “You did nothing, Officer Clary,” he explained after reading the badge on my uniform. “While you were attempting to help the gentleman asleep in the vehicle next to your patrol car, two idiots thought it would be funny to hit you on the back of the head, knock you out, then cuff you to your own vehicle.”
“My keys are—”
The paramedic interrupted and kindly assured me, “You never left your keys in your vehicle, Officer Clary.” He smiled again. “The goons we have in custody opened the door and staged the scene to distract you.”
I raised my brow at him. “The man was asleep? But his chest wasn’t moving, and I knocked on the windows pretty hard.”
The paramedic confirmed, “The man wasn’t part of the distraction, he is old and a very heavy sleeper. We actually advised him to take a sleep apnea test when he decided not to go to the hospital. There probably wasn’t any snoring, either.” He uncuffed my wrist and returned my keys.
I adjusted my glasses by the arms to lift them from falling off my face by the handle. The arm of my glasses twisted then broke off from the frames entirely. I sighed and watched my partner snicker as she parked on the other side of me. I refrained from giving her the finger, but my face showed all I wanted to say.
“Things happen in threes,” she called out.
Before I could jinx myself and remind her that isn’t true, that things usually happen in fours, Dr. Jack Masan walked toward my patrol car. He held a brown paper bag with the sub sandwich restaurant logo on it.
I watched as he sauntered closer with his contagious smile.
“They had no problem remaking your lunch,” he exclaimed.
I reached for the bag, but a stabbing pain at the back of my head pulled me back. “Ow!” I hissed.
“Don’t move, Jessa!” He dropped the bag on my lap, rushed to the ambulance. They all ran back to shine more lights into my eyes. Dr. Masan squatted and placed his hand gently behind my head under my hand and waved them to cut the light. “Move slowly. You may have a concussion.” He looked at the paramedics and showed them his opened wallet. “I’m a doctor. May I?” They nodded and stepped aside. He wanted their approval before taking over a patient.
He moved in closer to check my pupils. His eyes softened, and he smiled again. Obtaining a small pin from the paramedics, he poked at my hands, arms, and legs to make sure I could feel before allowing me to stand, and I busted into nervous laughter.
He chuckled. “Ticklish? I’m just worried. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, but kind of embarrassing,” I answered. “Glad you called me Jess and not Officer Clary.”
“Eh, I’ve seen worse in the E.R.” His hand slid down, and he began to play with the strands of my hair. I didn’t want him to stop. His touch was so tranquilizing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, moving his hand to his lap.
“Spoken like a true Canadian,” I joked.
“Funny! I hadn’t realized how soft your hair is. I mean, I hadn’t touched it before, but you know what I mean. Hopefully.” His cheeks flushed.
He didn’t seem as embarrassed as I was, though—a police officer getting jumped then handcuffed with her own cuffs to her patrol car.
“Thank you, Dr. Masan.” I grabbed the brown bag, still hot, and stepped out of the vehicle.
“Less formal, please, just call me Jack. And here, let me help you.” He reached out his hand, stood, then held my hand, allowing me to use him as a crutch as I lifted myself from the seat. “It’s all right, I sanitized my hands.”
I laughed and wished he hadn’t broken the moment. What a time in life where we have to worry if someone’s hands were clean before getting close, especially a crush. This was the new norm, and I had to get used to it sooner rather than later. Good hygiene was sexy, but I would never have wondered if a man used sanitizer before touching my hair or my hands.
“Alright, just Jack. Lunch?”
Jack grabbed a second brown bag from the hood of a black truck behind him. “Absolutely. What better way to keep an eye on you and make sure you’re okay?” He winked.
The paramedics gave me the clearance to leave. I couldn’t wait to feel Dr. Jack Masan’s hands all over me.
Chapter 4
Free. I couldn’t begin to think of how I felt with the warm breeze blowing through my hair and kissing my flesh as we surged onto the back roads. I stopped trying to hold my hair out of my face and allowed the wind to mess it up, but I slipped my hands into my dress pockets to hold it down. My only dress had pockets! Jack drove me home after I parked my patrol car so I could change. The black truck had been his, and I had laughed at the sight of him just using a random hood as a tray for food, or snagging someone else’s lunch. It would have given me a reason to cuff him.