Breaking His Dancer

chapter two

When Charles woke up that morning, he didn't think he would be dealing with a quarter of the s**t that he had to deal with today. Already, there had been three robberies, two vandalism, and now a break in at a residence. This was all not counting the mountains of paperwork he had to deal with as well. There wasn't enough coffee in the world to deal with this, but as the Chief of Police that was his job. No matter how much he may have wanted to quit right in that moment.

Most days he loved his job. He felt like he genuinely made a difference in this small town. But most days were not nearly as stressful as that day had been either. He found himself fantasizing about escaping to the mountains, where nobody would ever bother him. He could live off the land, enjoy his life away from other people, and other people's problems. He knew that was just a pipe dream, but as he drove to the sight of the break in that had been reported, the thought became more and more attractive.

The house that they were checking out was a charming little ranch style home. Large bay windows and neat white trim lent it an upscale type of look. The lawn was well manicured. The entire driveway was paved. A small flower garden created a burst of color by the front door. Inside the house was tidy, everything having its place. The color scheme was gentle beige, browns, and light grays, giving the space an open and airy feel. He was taken in by the delicate beauty of the woman shown in the pictures throughout the home. Something about her drew him in, making him long to know her. A surge of protectiveness rushed through him, and he did his best to stamp it down, wanting to remain professional. Still, what would those delicate lips feel like pressed against his neck? He shook his head as if shaking off the thought.

The first bedroom on the right, the one which he assumed was the mother’s, was the point through which the suspect had entered the home. The window was shattered and the room in shambles. It had begun taking on the musty smell of mildew from the rain falling through the window. The person who had done this had clearly been very angry, as evidenced by the level of destruction and the lack of missing property. This was clearly a message, intended to scare the poor woman.

He walked around the room, taking note of everything he could. The way the mattress of the bed sat askew, and the s***h marks that he was sure the woman hadn't noticed across the side closest to the window. The many glass trinkets that had once adorned her shelves were shattered, scattered across the floor of her room. It was when he approached the dresser that he spotted the note on top of it. “I'll make your life look like this room b***h. Your pain will be exquisite.” The messy handwriting looked familiar, though he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before. Careful not to touch the note with his bare hands he bagged it as evidence, and went about his search of the room. But nothing else of import stuck out to him. The son's room didn't look like it had been touched and the rest of the house was so clean that you could probably eat off the floor.

He deemed it safe for the residents to come back, and waited on her living room couch for her to arrive. He wanted to get her statement personally. Especially since this was one of many incidents involving someone stalking this woman.

When she arrived he was even more taken in by her beauty face to face. Even with puffy eyes, and tear streaks lining her face she was absolutely stunning. His chest swelled with the urge to protect her, every instinct in his body urging him to wrap her up in his arms and keep her safe. Whoa, down boy, he thought. Can’t go there. Nope. Not at all professional. And entirely too innocent for me. Yet, as she stood in front of him shaking like a leaf, clinging to her son like a lifeline, he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and protect her from everything that may come her way.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling his eyes away from her. “Um, Miss?”

“Peters,” she offered.

“Right, Miss Peters. Why don't we take a seat and you can go over the details of this case with me one more time?”

Her face fell. He knew that the last thing she wanted to do was recount the last twenty-four hours again.

“Is that necessary?” she asked. “I've already gone over it with two police officers, and filed several reports prior to this regarding the notes being left for me. I'm exhausted. I just want to get my things and take my son and myself to a hotel where we will be safe.”

“I'm sorry, Miss Peters, but sometimes telling a story from several different perspectives can help us pick up on details that we may have missed before. The last thing I want to do is cause further distress, but I also want to catch the person doing this.”

She sighed and sat on the couch, nodding. “Very well.”

She recounted the events of the day to him in painstaking detail. Her hands shook the entire time but he had to admire the steadiness of her voice, and the resolve with which she spoke. He struggled to pay complete attention to her words, trying his best not to be distracted by the melodious lilt of her voice. He could listen to this woman talk all day, about absolutely nothing, and still be enthralled. He took down a few notes on the pad from his pocket, and when she was finished he gave her his personal business card.

“This is my cell phone number. If you think of anything further, or if you feel scared in any way you give me a call. We will do everything we can to catch the guy who did this.”

With a firm handshake and a concerned look he left her and her son to their own devices.