Jillian
Newman replaced the receiver and immediately began preparing to leave the office.
She filled her Italian leather briefcase with folders that had to be read before
morning. Checking her desk, she was confident that she had everything that she
would need tonight. She pushed from her chair standing. A quick survey of the
street below told her just how late it was to be downtown. There wasn't a car
in sight. Just then a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. A clap of thunder
soon followed. Jillian jumped reflexively. Delaying no longer she left the office
for the parking garage below.
Jillian stepped off the elevator with keys in hand as another
bolt of lightning ripped across the sky. Dreading the pending storm, she wished
she had told her sister that she wasn't coming to dinner tonight. She quickened
her pace. Downtown parking lots were dangerous doing daytime hours and even more
so after normal work hours. When she had worked for a large legal firm, she hadn't
had to worry about security. The firm provided around the clock guards for its
building and parking area. But now, on her own, she was just another tenant in
the Kelly Ingram Professional Building. She approached her black Lexus sports
utility and noticed three well-dressed men involved in a heated discussion, two
lanes over. Their voices couldn't be heard clearly, but the hand gestures and
body language bespoke of their anger. Sensing trouble, she hurried to the safety
of her vehicle. Just as she closed the door behind herself and turned over the
ignition, a gunshot echoed in the cavernous structure.
Instinctively, Jillian glanced in the direction of the three
men. Blood covered the chest and hands of one man, as he stared in disbelief at
the other two men. He soon crumpled to the ground and out of sight. When the two
remaining men glanced in her direction and aimed their weapons, all went suddenly
white with lightning, then completely dark as the storm took out the city lights.
Jillian didn't wait to see if they would come back on. She
seized the opportunity and threw her car in gear. The vehicle jumped from the
pressure of her foot slamming on the accelerator. The headlights temporarily blinded
the gunmen, as tires squealed and burned. She maneuvered the sport utility vehicle
down the winding exit ramp and exploded onto the deserted street below. Thinking
quickly, she turned left onto 20th Street and then right in the direction of the
downtown police precinct where she eventually came to a stop. It was the only
building on the street with lights. The rain was just starting to fall as she
got out the vehicle and ran to the door.
"I'm attorney Jillian Newman and I would like to report
a shooting," she hurriedly spoke as she approached the on duty desk sergeant.
Professionally recounting the details of the evening, she waited as the desk sergeant
informed dispatch to send a patrol car to the location.
"Ma'am if you would return to the scene with Officer
Powers here." He pointed to a big man. "He'll take down a description
of the suspects."
Reluctantly, Jillian agreed to accompany Officer Powers and
his partner back to the scene and out into the raging storm. She thanked Officer
Powers as he opened the rear passenger car door for her under the precinct overhang.
Alone on the back seat, she desperately tried to steady her nerves as she inhaled
deeply through her nose. She silently watched as they passed block after block
of downtown buildings in the blinding rain. Her hands were clinched tightly to
control the trembling. As several flashing police lights came into view, Jillian
prepared herself for the scene above. She grew more tense as they reached the
fifth level, their destination.
Jillian was left alone in the car while both officers walked
over to the crime scene. Headlights were used as temporary lighting. She cringed
as the coroner opened the door of the van and retrieved a gurney. Chilled by the
morbid sight, she focused on her magenta heels while trying to block out the storm.
***
"Detective
Harrison Blake," the new arrival introduced himself to the patrolmen on scene.
He displayed a gold detective's shield and assumed command of the investigation.
He gathered all the necessary information from the patrolmen before heading over
to examine the crime scene and body. The forensic guys were busy going through
their routine. They took a moment to detail their initial findings to the detective.
A seasoned detective with ten years of police experience, it is Harrison's dedication
to law and order that has earned him the respect of the community as well as his
fellow officers.
"Where's our witness?" he questioned the uniform
officers on the scene. One of the officers motioned toward the car at the end
of the procession of police vehicles. "The lady's name is Jillian Newman."
"Thanks," Harrison said before heading toward the black and white. He
wanted to interview this witness right away while the details were still fresh
in her mind. Newman? He didn't know why, but the name seemed familiar. Then he
placed it. Newman was that lady lawyer who represented the scum of the earth and
blamed cops for the ills of the world. If he remembered correctly she had been
married to Josh Williams. He didn't know which one to feel the sorriest for. Armed
with this knowledge, he pulled the back door open and peered into the back seat.
Harrison was rooted in place as silken brown legs swung through
the open door and lowered to the ground. His eyes helplessly trailed up their
shapely brown length, before coming to rest at the hem of the woman's magenta
silk dress. An expanse of brown flesh was exposed. Forcing himself to look away
from the incredible pair of legs to his witness' face, Harrison was unprepared
by the force of his immediate attraction.
Whiskey brown eyes in a soft round face returned his curious
stare from behind a veil of sandy brown hair. A sassy fringe fell across her face
and beckoned to be swept away. Her hair was long and hung gracefully down her
back and across slender shoulders to finally rest temptingly at the swell of her
full breasts. And Harrison fought valiantly to prevent himself from sweeping the
locks away. He stepped back as she came to stand before him. Six feet, he guessed
his witness to be about five-five, minus the two inch heels.
Jillian silently watched the white detective growing more
curious by the moment. Why was he staring at her? Did he suspect her of this crime
because the victim was African-American? Defiant, she boldly returned his stare
and soon discovered herself cataloging his attributes. He was tall and surprisingly
handsome with a solid build. As best she could tell in the poor lighting, his
complexion was more almond than red or pale and his dark hair fell in thick waves.
Broad in the shoulders and narrow in the waist, he wore his clothes well. The
black knit shirt stretched provocatively across the breath of his chest should
have been outlawed, and the form-fitting black jeans, banned permanently from
public display. The leather holster slung across his mountainous shoulders held
a deadly weapon. The sight alone of the man was menacing and intimidating; however,
the weapon perched at his side left no doubt to his lethalness. Jillian chanced
a glance into his dark brown eyes and knew immediately that she had made a drastic
mistake. They had focused hotly onto her and challenged her as a woman. A little
unsettled by their interest and stunned by the effect, she quickly looked away
and caught sight of the black bagged body being placed in the rear of the coroner's
van. Lightning crackled and eerily lit the macabre scene. She shivered.
"Ms. Newman, your name precedes you."
Jillian's brown eyes hardened with suspicion. "Is there
a problem?" Her hand movement indicated that she was waiting for a name.
"I'm Detective Harrison Blake." He extended a hand
in introduction.
Jillian nervously accepted the offered handshake. "Detective."
Harrison felt the slight tremor in her touch. "Are you
up to this?"
Jillian heard the concern in his voice and couldn't help looking
into his eyes. They had softened with worry. She forced a little smile. "Yes,
I'm fine." She jumped from a clap of thunder and lightning. Recovering, she
quickly removed her hand.
Harrison didn't believe her. She was as jumpy as a cat. But
needing the information that only she could provide, and knowing that it was best
to interview her now rather than later, he pressed on. "What time did you
enter the garage?" He listened closely, while watching her sensual mouth.
"It was a little after eight o'clock, no later than eight
fifteen," she responded noticing how his dark brows enhanced the intensity
and beauty of his dark eyes. She folded her arms underneath her breasts and asked
herself what the devil she was thinking ogling this white cop.
"How can you be so sure of the time?" Harrison wondered
if her mouth tasted as good as it looked.
"I was late for dinner and checked the clock as I locked
my office."
Harrison frowned, suddenly unhappy with the thought of some
other man kissing those succulent lips tonight. "Well tell me all that you
saw." Harrison listened closely as her sultry voice recalled the details
of tonight. He scribbled down detailed notes as he listened. When she finally
concluded speaking he was weak with an incredible compulsion to enfold her within
his arms and convince her that the man she was due to meet was not worthy of her
affection. What are you thinking?
Jillian missed the frown because she was too busy watching
Harrison's hands. They were large and well maintained, and she foolishly wondered
what they would feel like caressing her flesh. Uncomfortable with this newly discovered
attraction she nervously ground her right heel into the pavement, oblivious to
his dark eyes drawn to the sudden movement.
"Do you believe those men will come looking for me?"
she asked a little shaky.
"They're probably long gone by now," he tried to
reassure her, then wondered why he cared.
Harrison soon announced his questioning complete, then promptly
cleared away sexual thoughts of the woman standing before him. He was white and
she black and their paths would probably never cross again unless it was in court
and he was testifying against one of her clients.
"Did you leave your car at the precinct?"
"Yes I did," Jillian answered. She was still trembling
slightly from tonight's ordeal.
"That's good because I don't believe you're in any condition
to be driving. Why don't you let me run you home." Harrison surprised himself
by offering.
Jillian was surprised too and openly gaped at him. What was
he up to? Her lawyer's mind became suspicious. Was this some police tactic to
place her at ease in the hopes that she would incriminate herself? Well, Detective
Blake was in for a rude awakening.
***
Jillian
silently watched the white detective growing more curious by the moment. Why was
he staring at her? Did he suspect her of this crime because the victim was African-American?
Defiant, she boldly returned his stare and soon discovered herself cataloging
his attributes. He was tall and surprisingly handsome with a solid build. As best
she could tell in the poor lighting, his complexion was more almond than red or
pale and his dark hair fell in thick waves. Broad in the shoulders and narrow
in the waist, he wore his clothes well. The black knit shirt stretched provocatively
across the breath of his chest should have been outlawed, and the form-fitting
black jeans, banned permanently from public display. The leather holster slung
across his mountainous shoulders held a deadly weapon. The sight alone of the
man was menacing and intimidating; however, the weapon perched at his side left
no doubt to his lethalness. Jillian chanced a glance into his dark brown eyes
and knew immediately that she had made a drastic mistake. They had focused hotly
onto her and challenged her as a woman. A little unsettled by their interest and
stunned by the effect, she quickly looked away and caught sight of the black bagged
body being placed in the rear of the coroner's van. Lightning crackled and eerily
lit the macabre scene. She shivered.
"Ms. Newman, your name precedes you." Jillian's
brown eyes hardened with suspicion. "Is there a problem?" Her hand movement
indicated that she was waiting for a name. "I'm Detective Harrison Blake."
He extended a hand in introduction. Jillian nervously accepted the offered handshake.
"Detective." Harrison felt the slight tremor in her touch. "Are
you up to this?" Jillian heard the concern in his voice and couldn't help
looking into his eyes. They had softened with worry. She forced a little smile.
"Yes, I'm fine." She jumped from a clap of thunder and lightning. Recovering,
she quickly removed her hand.
Harrison didn't believe her. She was as jumpy as a cat. But
needing the information that only she could provide, and knowing that it was best
to interview her now rather than later, he pressed on. "What time did you
enter the garage?" He listened closely, while watching her sensual mouth.
"It was a little after eight o'clock, no later than eight
fifteen," she responded noticing how his dark brows enhanced the intensity
and beauty of his dark eyes. She folded her arms underneath her breasts and asked
herself what the devil she was thinking ogling this white cop.
"How can you be so sure of the time?" Harrison wondered
if her mouth tasted as good as it looked. "I was late for dinner and checked
the clock as I locked my office." Harrison frowned, suddenly unhappy with
the thought of some other man kissing those succulent lips tonight. "Well
tell me all that you saw." Harrison listened closely as her sultry voice
recalled the details of tonight. He scribbled down detailed notes as he listened.
When she finally concluded speaking he was weak with an incredible compulsion
to enfold her within his arms and convince her that the man she was due to meet
was not worthy of her affection. What are you thinking?
***
"I
would appreciate the ride, but if you believe you're going to get me into your
car and pry some confession out of me while pretending to be nice and concerned,
you're wasting your time. I've told you everything that I know and just because
the victim is black doesn't mean that I know him or that I did it."
Harrison cocked his head as he stared into her whiskey brown
eyes. They shimmered oddly with anger. "I offered you a ride home, Ms. Newman,
because I was concerned for your safety as well as the citizens of Birmingham
because you are in no shape to drive. There was no ulterior motive. But since
you obviously don't trust white cops, why don't I get one of the young black-or
is it African-American-cops to take you home?" His dark eyes narrowed in
resentment as his lips dripped the angry words. His slight southern accent gave
way to his native east coast brogue.
Jillian instantly regretted her remark. The man was only trying
to be nice and here she had gone and insulted him. She had to ask herself why?
Was it because he was a cop or the fact that he was a white cop? Or was it because
of the media images of white cops and black suspects? Shaking her head, she knew
the truth. It was because she surprisingly found herself attracted to the man.
"I apologize, Detective." She smiled feebly. "I
would very much appreciate that ride home."
Harrison didn't respond right away. He instead stood there
watching her. She was genuinely sorry for the outburst, but something else was
going on inside that lovely head of hers. It was in her eyes for a fleeting moment.
"Give me the directions and we're off," he finally said as pleasantly
as possible.
"I live in the warehouse district."
"Sure no problem," he commented, then paused looking
at her. "Are you in one of the newly converted warehouses on Morris Avenue?"
"Yes I am." She smiled.
"I've been itching to get a look at those." His
face brightened into a full dimpled smile which transformed his appearance.
How the heck did I miss those dimples? "Well, you're
welcomed to look around." She extended an invitation, then quickly asked
herself why she had done so.
Harrison wondered the same thing. It was obvious to him that
the lady still was uncomfortable in his presence. Or maybe it was the effect of
seeing a man lose his life which had her off balance. "Shall we go?"
He ushered her away distancing himself with reserve professionalism.
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