Steele Resolve (The Detective Jasmine Steele Series Book 1) (2 page)

“Work.”

“Bad day?”

“Yep.”

“How old?”

“How old is who?”

“The dead person.”

There is one thing I can say for certain. Slamming on brakes in rain is not conducive to stopping. Hydroplaning across a lane of traffic is not fun. I repeat, not an activity I wish to do again.

My truck slides to a stop at a red light and I slowly release the death grip I have on the steering wheel. I turn around and look at Chase sitting calmly behind my chair.

“What makes you think there was a dead person?”

“I wasn’t sure until you freaked out. Please don’t do that again. Papa Jon said running through red lights was bad.” I laugh at his reference to my father. The one man I idolized as a child for being strong, intelligent, someone to depend on – everything a man should be.

“Yes, he also told me there was once a president named Wilbert Homie.” My mouth erupts into a smile before I can reel it in, my father had good moments.

“I know. Daddy told me he used to sleep through study times.”

I feel the smile slide off my face. Turning back around in my chair, I watch the windshield wipers cross the glass cleaning off the excess fluids. It’s funny how I hide from memories of my father. Chase remembers him fondly, and that’s good. Buried within the hurt, the disappointment and after years of knowing he will never respect me – then there are happy times. The problem is, those times are so few and far between.

“Buddy, why don’t we go home okay? We’ll talk more there.” I put the car in drive and pull back into the main road. Chase goes back to staring out the window. I go back to thinking about how I can’t be a parent. I’m not good at it. I’m not ready for it and frankly I never asked for it. I just wanted to be the fun aunt who came over to play. The one every kid on the block wanted to hang out with. In the end, I wanted to be able to drop the kids off at home on a massive sugar high. I can’t ever become my father and at the rate I’m going I already am.

Pulling up in the driveway outside my house, I realize something and it seems to drown me. I brought the kid home. He’s my kid. He’s my responsibility and my job to guide him through life. It’s been a year since I’ve been his guardian, and today it hits me like a ton of bricks. Maybe it’s because of the dead girl, but I doubt it. I’ve seen plenty of bodies since I buried Chase’s family, buried my only brother. No, today’s different and I need to just focus on something else.

Open the door, walk inside, place keys on hook and hang the coat on the rack. I must be a robot when I come home. Chase sits at the table with a cup of water in his hands. I wonder when he won’t need me anymore. I’ll be truly alone then. I slide into the seat across from him as he plays with his cup.

“So, what’s up?” Could I sound any more like an idiot to a small child?

“Stuff.” He rolls the cup around on its edge, one full complete rotation. Mom did that a lot, she said it helped her to focus when she was thinking.

“Like what? Wrestling matches? Pokémon? Those silly pens with the funny hair? Girls?” Hopefully I covered all the things he’s into at this point in time.

“Eww. Girls are annoying and they don’t like wrestling.” He lets go of the cup and his eyes meet mine. They’re grey today. Unlike my brother and his wife, my nephew got my eyes. Most people can hide their emotions with a poker face or a stoic expression of some kind. Chase and I wear it in our eyeballs. When they’re grey, something is really wrong. Stress, fear, whatever it is, grey is not a good color.

“While I understand girls not liking wrestling, what’s really on your mind?” Chase opens his mouth to speak and I know a diversion tactic is coming. “Before you say it, I only like the choreographed sport because you do. Trust me I would rather watch a Barney marathon than sit through another fake ladders and chairs match.”

Chase promptly closes his mouth. He goes back to spinning his cup.

“I couldn’t see today.”

“Couldn’t see what?” He doesn’t look up at me. “The blackboard? Maybe we should get your eyes checked. Everyone in the family had glasses, contacts or surgery so it wouldn’t hurt.”

“No. I couldn’t see the blue sky.” If he could slink lower in the chair I think he would.

“It was raining sweetie, tomorrow it should be clear.”

“So, I’ll see heaven tomorrow then.”

“What do you mean see heaven?”

“You said daddy and mommy are in heaven with papa and grandma.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“I couldn’t see them today. It was cloudy. I usually look up at lunch to make sure they’re up there. Once I feel one of them watching me I know it’s okay to play.”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay to play?”

“Because I’m having fun without them.” Chase gets up and stands next to me. I see the tears in his eyes that want to fall but he holds it in. Eventually he’ll talk to me, but for now I let him be. He just hugs me and whispers he loves me in my ear. I want to pull him tight and make the world right for him, but I’m not sure I’m right yet so how can I help him? He lets me go and walks into his room and closes the door.

“Aunt Jazzie, pick up phone!”

Evil ringtone, I tell you. It might have been cute when we recorded it. He was three, I was an aspiring writer and I thought it was cute to use it. I managed to write one novel with the full intention of finishing the series, but life got in the way. The killer was never found, the victims never vindicated and the series remains unfinished. Who knows if people even cared about it, sales were horrible.

My screenplays were never finished. Hell, I still have the files on my computer. If they could collect dust, I'd have a dust mite infestation. That's a bit gross to even think about. Either way, he's seven now and I’m no longer writing anything but police reports. I should change this ringtone to something more professional, like a metal song or something. Anything to freak out the criminals I deal with on a daily basis, or maybe some of my co-workers. For some reason though, I can’t bring myself to change the ringtone. Another thing I can’t let go of, Chase’s innocence.

“Steele.”

“Did you make it?” It must be check in time. Frankie rarely calls me when she’s alone so Hadley must be with her. The gentle sound of another extension being clicked on answers my question.

“Yes. Hi, Hadley.”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Because Frankie is nothing without a side order of her roommate Hadley to annoy. Not to mention in today’s age of modern technology picking up another extension is a dying art.”

I can hear them both covering the receivers. Muffled sounds hit my ear but none of it makes any sense. Next thing I hear is one line clicking off and soft breathing on the other end. “You sure you’re okay? Victor mentioned you being… off.”

“Frankie, I’m fine. Just tired.” I lie. It’s what I do lately. Lie to the kid. Lie to myself. Lies, lies and more lies. I spout them out so easily now I don’t know where they begin and truth ends or vice versa.

“I know you better than that. You want to talk about it?”

“Don’t try to analyze me, Frankie. The department pays for a shrink I don’t know to pick my brain.” That came out of my mouth harsher than I meant. I hear Hadley in the background arguing something, then that familiar clicking sound.

“She’s just trying to help you out, sour puss.” I can just see Hadley’s face scrunching up as she speaks. She’s an animated actress who somehow manages to bring home a constant paycheck and not be in debt. Go figure.

“She ate fruit loops again didn’t she?” I can hear Frankie laughing. That always makes me feel better.

“I have a commercial audition tomorrow. I have to be upbeat and perky. Fruit Loops are the cereal of hyper children everywhere. I thought I’d give it a try.”

“Well, scale it back a bit. Just a loop or two.”

“Funny, Jazz, really funny.”

“In all seriousness, Jazz, what’s up with this new body of yours?”

“News travels fast.”

“Like I said we talked to Victor earlier and he said the girl was pretty messed up.”

“Let’s just say this isn’t a part Hadley would want to play in a film.”

“Why? Most of her films involve her screaming in her nightgown as she runs away from a serial killer.”

I miss this constant banter between all of us. I wish we had more time to do it. We used to do this every other night before… well, just before life got in the way.

“Jazz, come on tell us.”

“Wish I knew more. She’s the second young girl I’ve seen this week. Don’t know much else.” Another lie, my gut tells me there is so much more to it but I can’t deal with theories or hypotheticals right now. I need facts, supported by science and my rationale.

“Don’t forget beaten to a pulp.”

“And strangled.”

“Apparently you two know more than I do.”

“Victor,” they say in unison on the other end of the phone. “Look, I’m pretty tired. Frankie, if you want to take a crack at the profile I’ll hook you up with the files. I’m too tired to do it myself and I don’t trust anyone else. Hadley, stay out of trouble and try to get a role that doesn’t involve you dying. I can’t handle that either.”

“Okay.” The phone clicks off. “I’ll talk to you later.” Silence hangs between us on the phone. I’m about to hang up when I hear her intake a deep breath. “Jazz.”

“Yeah, Frankie.”

“I’m here.”

There she goes always saying the right thing at the right time. We went to graduate school together and I thought we would never get through it all. Two Madonna concerts later and we helped each other graduate early. Then she had to go show me up and get her doctorate before me. Oh wait, that’s still on my ‘to do’ list. The same list that keeps growing by the day and I don’t even know where to start to even attempt to shrink it down.

“Thanks.”

“Love and hugs from the nut house.”

The phone line dies in my ear. The nut house, that just makes me laugh. They were a nut house all right, but I was a willing participant in the insanity to keep my sanity. Go figure. I already mentioned irony laughing at me. Now I think he’s scheduled a ball in my honor only I’m not invited.

I need sleep.

To dream. I think I subconsciously prevent myself from sleeping. I toss and turn, stare at the clock, play a game on my antiquated handheld and try to sleep later. I can hear Chase doing the same thing, but with his game system. The sound of his Pokémon trainer heading into battle is crystal clear through the thin walls. Have I mentioned how much I really dislike Pokémon? It’s like Barney, but with a yellow thing that sounds way too damn chipper.

Oh, how my life has changed. Back in the day, my bed was warm. Not just with a fancy duvet or flannel sheets, but with a living, breathing human being. I can’t say for sure if life was easier then, but it was more fulfilling. I had a person I could share life with. The ups, downs, and all those lefts and rights a cool slide has to offer. Chase’s lingo is really rubbing off on me. No more game sounds coming through the wall. He must be trying to sleep.

People ask me if Chase was the reason for the mutual break-up. He wasn’t. I swear on everything I hold dear in my life, he had nothing to do with it. The problem was me trying to balance two new lives into one. I went from partner and dreamer to mother, without any remaining members of my family to assist me. I couldn’t handle it and I let the love of my life walk out. What makes it worse; she’s one of my closest friends. If there is a higher power, I have to thank him for that when I see him. Note the sarcasm.

I shut my phone off, place it on the end table and plug it in to charge. The door creeks open and I look at my clock. Eleven PM, right on time. The sheets move and I roll over on my back. Chase snuggles into me and I hold him. I know he had another nightmare. I’ve heard him sometimes begging his father to wake up. I know what the scene looked like. I pulled my nephew out of the car and saw my brother’s eyes stare at me. Empty.

Shit, no tears in front of the kid. Blink as much as you can dammit. Fight it. Breathe in and out, one breath at a time. Push it all back into the trunk and lock it up. That’s right. Body, mind and soul – lock it up. Follow Chase’s breathing and slow down. Good. Now, sleep.

My arms secure Chase next to me, and finally I feel safe enough to close my eyes. Maybe tonight I will dream about what could have been or maybe I will just relax enough to rest. I don’t mind either one. I just don’t want to think right now.

Close eyes, lean head back – rest.

Chapter Two

Beeping. Incessant beeping. I don’t want to open my eyes yet. I’ve got to stop laying in bed awake for hours on end. I thought if I just laid here I would get rest. That’s what my mom told me. Another thing I feel she lied to me about. Anything to get a kid in bed I guess. Shit, do I do that to Chase? Nah, I’m nothing like my mom, she was awesome. I’m just me.

My nose smells something, what is it? Oh yes, it’s coffee. Okay, coffee brewing means someone is here. I pop up quickly, my eyes dart across the room trying to get used to the light. My left hand frantically touches the end table trying to find my glasses. My fingers come across them and I wrap my fingers around the lenses. Damn, I’m gonna have to wipe the smudges off later.

Okay, calmly walk down the hall. You don’t want to tip the perpetrator off to your location. The coffee smells so good. I think the smell woke my brain up because logic is starting to seep into my thoughts. Why would a perp be making coffee? Is he going to make sure I’m fully awake before he beats me to submission? That wouldn’t fit the normal profile would it?

“Aunt Jazz, I can hear you.”

Of course, the perp is a little twerp with a sense of humor. I peek around the corner and there is Chase, with a mug full of coffee and the paper. Just sit down and say thank you, you over protective fool.

“Thanks, little man. I appreciate it.”

“I was up. Besides, you snore.”

“I do not.”

“Aunt Jazz, your snoring could cause an earthquake big enough to swallow New York City.”

There’s nothing to say to that really. I just smile and rub his head. I pick up my mug and take a sip of the coffee. Oh my God what kind of oil am I drinking? Swallow dammit, swallow! Show the kid he did a good job. I smile with brown tinged teeth.

“Thanks, this is great.”

He just smiles at me as I gulp the sludge down as fast as I can. Then, just when I think the torture is over, he pulls the coffee pot out of brewing machine. Oh man, this is not going to end well. Chase just smiles at me as he pours the coffee into my mug. I swear it looks like chocolate syrup as it fills my mug. Milk, I just need lots of milk. I pick up the milk and pour as much as I can until the liquid reaches the top of my double sized mug. Would you believe the color hasn’t changed? For the love of God, this is what my mom suffered when she ate my first attempt at chocolate chip cookies. They made charcoal look pale. Karma is a bitch indeed. Don’t gag dammit! Is he still smiling?

I look up from my hell and see him sitting across from the table. He pours the milk into a bowl of cereal. He looks up at me and shows me his bright white teeth. Hell is worth every minute of burning if it means I get to see that smile for the rest of my life. Drink it up, Jazz. Drink every last drop of coffee until the pot is empty. Whatever it takes to show him you care. This is a bonding moment I don’t intend to fuck up.

“You need to eat with that you know.”

Don’t stop to think. Drink before your mind revolts! Chase looks at me as I continue to chug my coffee down.

“Aunt Jazz, that’s hot you know. Doesn’t it burn?”

Shit. Water, I need water and now! I place the mug down and quickly rush to the sink. Flip the handle and stick my head below the tap. Drink up the cold water. I hear giggling behind me. I back out from the wonderful cleansing water and look at the little man. He’s holding my mug and laughing.

“You drank it.”

“Of course I did. You made it for me.”

“I put nine scoops of coffee in the maker.”

My stomach lurches at the thought. Just smile and say something witty.

“I didn’t notice.”

Oh yeah, when the higher power was handing out the witty part of the brain, I was obviously absent.

“Yes, you did.”

I stare blankly at him, but he knows the real score.

“I’m supposed to put three scoops in.” I watch as he pours out the sludge into the sink and cleans the pot. He moves around the kitchen with ease as he makes me a fresh pot of coffee.

“Thank you.” He pushes the on button and hugs my leg. After maybe a second he pulls away and walks down the hall. I am so confused.

“Stop thinking too much, Aunt Jazz. I don’t want to be late for school.”

Did I mention to you he was a smart ass? He must have waited on the wit line. I grab my travel coffee mug and pour as much normal java as I can in there. I put some milk in it and I see the lighter shade of brown staring back at me. Perfect. Maybe that beeping was a blessing in disguise.

“Aunt Jazz, I smell smoke. You’re still thinking too much.” He’s laughing again.

“Ha, ha, funny little man. Get your stuff ready.” Walking to my bedroom, I hear him saying good morning to his fish. Those silly little blue neon like fish, he named them after all our dead family members and one named Bubba. I don’t know why that name came into play.

The weather looks brighter, a slight chill as the cold air seeps into my lungs. My car looks clean and shows my reflection, something a natural car wash offers I guess. I can’t be bothered to do it myself. The little man rushes past me and hops into the car. Another day, another dollar.

Silence once again. I relish it when I’m thinking or if I’ve got one of those migraines Satan seems keen on hitting me with, but now? I could use some noise. I turn the radio on and flip to my favorite eighties station. Don’t ask me what song is playing. I always seem to know the words, but never the titles. It was the generation of one hit wonders so don’t ask for the band either. I’m lucky I know the words, or at least what I think the words are.

“Those aren’t the right words.”

“How would you know? You weren’t even a thought when this song came out.”

“Conroy Jameson comes out to it. They played it when he beat J.G. Holms.”

“So what are the words?”

Let’s see him prove his musical prowess now. I’ve known these words for years and my brain is a sharp as it ever was. “It’s ‘They call us problem child; we spend our lives on trial,’ not ‘They like problems to dial and they live by the mile’. The song was Youth Gone Wild by Skid Row.”

Maybe I over exaggerated the brain being sharp bit. I believe I skipped all the good lines in heaven before heading down to Earth. “You just think you’re smarter than me.”

“On occasion yes, but I can’t drive so you win there.”

“So, I’m a glorified chauffeur?”

“With really cool hair.”

“Cool hair?”

“Well, daddy was losing his badly.”

“Ah yes, the balding gene.”

“Yeah, he loved his ripped jeans.”

“Not jeans. Gene. It’s something that… well when you are conceived…” I can see his reflection in the mirror as he waits for an answer. My stomach is flipping, my hands begin to sweat... “You know what, why don’t you ask your teacher what a gene is. She’d know better than I would.”

“What’s conceived mean?” Shit. I pull up along the curb at school. “Wow, look at that, we’re here. Have a great day learning little man!”

Chase unbuckles from his seat and picks up his backpack. He kisses me on the cheek and silently exits the car. I watch as he walks up to the doors and walks inside.

“Conceived? Who the fuck talks to a seven year old about his parents… my brother… Ahhh!”

Mental note, thinking of your older brother having a sex life is not a good thing to do. Especially after drinking sludge and not eating anything. That is as nasty as my parents – forget it. I don’t need to go there.

“Aunt Jazzie, pick up phone!” I start digging through everything in the front seat searching for my phone. “Aunt Jazzie, pick up phone!” Leaning over into the passenger side moving papers, “I heard you Chase; I’m trying to find the fucking thing.”

I must look like a frantic woman searching for her lost child. I ruffle through my bag. No phone. I glance up and see my reflection in the rear view mirror. I see my wireless Bluetooth sitting in my ear. I seriously think I am losing my marbles. I push the button and hear the familiar click of the call connecting.

“Steele.”

Looking around the car, I notice my cell phone in the cup holder next to me. If it had teeth my ass would be hurting.

“In the end, everyone is the same. We all turn to dust.” The soft spoken voice says to me on the other end. I laugh a little bit, “You practicing your dialogue, Had? Good delivery, but it sounds like every other horror film out there.”

“Don’t think you’re untouchable,” the tone changes pitch, harsher more direct, “You and your son.” My heart pounds in my chest, forcing myself to catch my breath I open my mouth to reply. I hear a beep of an ended phone call. I quickly flip through my phone and hit recent calls. It says a private call. I quickly dial Hadley.

“What’s up home slice?” She answers in her usual perky voice. Normally this would make me laugh, but right now I still can’t stop my heart from racing.

“You didn’t just call me did you? And you’re thirty-two so stop trying to sound like you’re twenty-one.” If there is one thing my family instilled in me, it’s to sound normal even when you’re going out of your mind. Never let anyone in when you’re freaking out, it’s none of their business if they aren’t family. Even then it’s a gray area since family is usually the one more likely to harm you.

“At least I still look like I’m young, unlike miss-I-have-to-dye-my-hair-once-a-month-to-cover-up-the-gray and no, I didn’t call you. Why?”

“No reason. Just checking. When’s your audition?”

“In about an hour,” a bit of nerves creep up into her voice. I’ve heard it before but she never fails to ace everything.

“Good luck.” I hear a sharp intake of air on the other end of the line.

“You so did NOT say that.”

“What?”

“You never say good luck. That gives bad luck. Its break a leg.”

“Okay, then break both.”

“Too late. I’m already jinxed.”

“Whatever you say, Hadley. I need to run.” Before she can continue to blame her success or lack thereof on me, I hang up. I quickly dial Victor at work. As the phone rings, I pull the car into drive and head to the office.

“To what do I deserve the pleasure?” His usual greeting calms me a bit, allowing me to gain control over my heartbeat. “Do you know anyone with a private line?”

“Only about half of the western hemisphere, why?” That is the million dollar question, why. Of course Victor’s why and my why were in reference to two totally different things, but none the less the question remains the same. Why?

“I just got a very weird call and it’s freaking me out a bit.”

“What did they say?”

“The voice was muffled and I barely understood any of it,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“You got a prank call from a heavy breather? I wouldn’t be too worried,” he laughs to himself. “At least your gentleman callers are alive. All the women I meet are so… cold.”

“Wow, that was just... I have no idea how to reply to that.”

“Yeah it was a stretch, but someone had to do it,” Victor purrs. “Hate to rush, but I have patients to handle.”

“Not like they’re going anywhere, but I understand.”

I hear him laughing a few seconds before the line goes dead. I pull into my spot at work and rush into the building. I walk up to Officer Garrison’s desk. The young man with a desire to be the youngest detective ever, sits at his desk playing some word search game with a baseball cap on. The same cap I've written him up for wearing out on the job. He's got a uniform hat, and if I had to wear it my whole beat cop career, so does this fucker.

“Officer, can I see you in my office please?”

I normally love seeing the look of fear on people’s faces. That being said, right now isn’t the time for pleasure in it. He follows me to my office like a man on death row. I wish I had the time to say calm down in front of his colleagues, but my mind is elsewhere. Opening the door, I wait for him to walk in and sit down. I close my door and quickly move to my chair.

“I need to ask you something and it cannot leave this room. Do you understand?” He simply nods his head in agreement. “If someone called me from a private number, can you find anything out about the call?”

“I might be able to find out a general location of where it originated,” he plays with the cuticle on his right thumb. He’s nervous and I’m not making it any easier on him.

“If I answered the phone and had a conversation, could you access what was said?”

“I might.”

I take out my cell phone and hand it to him.

“Find out everything and get back to me as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

"Oh, and Garrison?"

"Yes?"

"That baseball cap is not part of your uniform is it?"

"No."

"Then take it off before the captain or I write you up again."

Slowly Garrison reaches up and removes his safety blanket called his hat. He gets up and leaves my office promptly, closing the door behind him. What did that caller mean? I’m not untouchable? My son. Fear races up my spine as the reality of what was said sinks in. I drop my head to the desk. If they have my cell phone, they know who Chase is. I never had to worry about that before.