Jessa looks shell-shocked, but that works well for the situation. My eyes meet hers and I know she understands the choice she has before her.
She turns her gaze to the cops. “I’m afraid not,” she says, coming forward.
I turn to both men. “Yeah, me neither. I just got home a few minutes ago. And my girlfriend and I were just about to sit down to dinner. There was no disturbance of any kind. Not from us, at least. You sure you got the right apartment?”
I infuse my tone with just the right amount of chagrin. The amount that suggests that I am intensely insulted by the accusation that I could be responsible for hurting any woman.
The officers exchange a glance. “Uh, we are sorry for the inconvenience, sir. But would it be possible for us to… look around?”
I stare at them for a moment, waiting for them to say anything else. When they don’t, I laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Afraid so, sir.”
Still playacting with a frown, I turn towards Jessa. She hesitates only a second before she walks up to me and slips her hand around my elbow. The gesture is natural, like she’s done it a thousand times before. Maybe she’s fantasized it.
“I’m sorry, officers—there must have been some sort of mistake,” she says. “But we understand that you’re just doing your jobs. So if you need to look around, please feel free.”
Both men look at me warily. I step to the side and allow them to enter the apartment.
It’s clear within seconds that there’s nothing amiss inside. There’s half a pizza on the coffee table and my shoes lying where I tossed them beside the sofa.
“As I said,” I tell them, “I just got home from work. Who did you say made the call?”
“I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to say, sir.”
I glance at Jessa. “Could it be possible that Dane did this?”
Her mouth drops open. “Dane?”
I turn to the cops. “Her ex-boyfriend,” I say with a regretful expression. “Or ex-fiancé, rather. The two of them had a messy breakup and… let’s just say he wasn’t very happy to hear that Jessa had moved on so fast.”
Both cops are beginning to look more and more uncomfortable.
“We’re really sorry about this, sir,” Lewiston says. “But when we get this kind of call, it’s our duty to check it out. Make sure nothing is amiss.”
I sigh. “Of course. I understand. You’re just doing your job. I’m sorry for being short. I just… it’s been a long day and I don’t like the implication that I would ever… that I could… hurt my girl.”
“Of course, sir. No man does,” Lewiston says, even as he looks around.
The second cop, Branagh, is observing Jessa carefully. She’s standing by my side avoiding everybody’s eyes, which is not helping us look carefree and innocent.
I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her against my body. It’s an easy gesture to make—shockingly easy, actually.
Then I press a kiss to the side of her forehead, close enough that I can whisper to her, “You’ve gotta do better than that.”
She stiffens for a split second, but then she recovers remarkably well. “Can I get you officers anything?”
“No, thank you, ma’am,” Lewiston says at the same time Branagh says, “That would be great.”
Lewiston throws his junior a disgusted glare. “We’re really not supposed to eat or drink on the job.”
I give them both a smile. “Don’t worry—we won’t tell.”
I head over to the kitchen, moving around with all apparent familiarity. I open the fridge and take a quick glance inside.
“We’ve got some orange juice, but I can also offer you guys a cup of coffee?”
“No, we really shouldn’t…” Lewiston says, but he’s sounding less and less convincing.