Valentine's Day Collection (A Timeless Romance Anthology Book 19) Page 3

  His eyes went wide when he saw her, although whether this was because of her state of undress, or because he recognized her, she couldn’t tell. As he walked down the hallway, his head tilted in question. “Elisabeth Daniels, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she said, and then because Mr. Swanson was looking impressed that the officer had ID'ed her right off, she added. “My old nemesis, we meet again.”

  The older man nodded smugly. “She’s a wanted criminal, isn’t she?”

  Instead of answering, Mr. October said, “Please put away your gun, sir. And make sure the safety is on.”

  Mr. Swanson clicked the safety back on and lowered the gun. His wife finally reappeared from the stairs, holding her cell phone. “I found it,” she announced.

  As the policeman stepped closer to Bethany, she got a look at his nametag. Hansen.

  He gave her an apologetic look. “Ms. Daniels, I need you to turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

  Bethany sighed and did as she was told. “Don’t I get to explain before you cuff me?”

  He came up behind her. “You can explain after.” He took hold of one of her hands and she felt a cuff snapping around her wrist. “Sorry. It’s procedure.”

  “Seriously? You can tell I’m not armed. I’m in my underwear.”

  He snapped the cuff on her other wrist. “I did notice that, yes.” His voice went low. “Apparently, you have more interesting blind dates than the ones I go on.”

  “I’m not dressed this way for a date.”

  “These are your breaking-and-entering clothes?”

  She turned to face him, ignoring how close he stood. “I didn’t break anything. I only entered. And I only did that because I was lost.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You put a plank onto a stranger’s balcony and entered that way because you were lost?” He obviously already knew the couple’s side of the story.

  “I was locked out on the balcony next door, and I thought this balcony was part of the same townhouse.”

  “I see.” Officer Hansen took out a pen and a pad of paper to write notes. “Do you normally carry planks around with you?”

  “It wasn’t a plank. It was a wooden chair. You can go look at it.”

  Mrs. Swanson motioned to Officer Hansen to get his attention. “She always wants you to leave. I think she’s going to run for it.”

  “I can’t run anywhere,” Bethany snapped. “My car keys are locked in the Duponts’ house.” As coherently as she could, she told the story of how she’d ended up locked out. “Look, all you have to do is call the Duponts. Or their housekeeper. They can verify my story.”

  “The Duponts are in France,” Mr. Swanson said pointedly. “I know because we’re watching their cat.”

  And that explained why the cat was on their balcony.

  Mrs. Swanson shook her head in disbelief. “Lauren didn’t say anything to me about someone coming in and painting while they were gone, and I’m sure she would have mentioned it.”

  “That’s because it was a surprise,” Bethany said. “A Valentine’s Day present from her husband.”

  More head shaking from Mrs. Swanson. “Her husband took her to Paris for Valentine’s Day.”

  “Right. He did two nice things for her. Some guys are awesome like that.” Bethany swallowed. Even to her, the story sounded suspicious. Because really, how many men were that awesome? “Men can be nice,” she insisted.

  Officer Hansen wrote down something on his pad. “You don’t have to convince me. I’ve already been nice today.”

  “Right,” she said. “I’m hoping that streak continues.”

  Mr. Swanson nudged his wife. “See, she’s trying to flirt her way out of this.”

  Bethany felt her cheeks flush. “The housekeeper knows all about this. She was the one who let me in each day. Her name is Marta something…” Bethany didn’t remember her last name. It was hard enough to remember first names.

  “Her accomplice,” Mrs. Swanson said knowingly. “There’s always an accomplice.” She turned to Officer Hansen. “You’re taking this woman to jail, right? I bet she’s stolen something. If not from us, then from the Duponts.”

  Bethany let out a breath of frustration. “I obviously haven’t stolen anything. Where would I put it? It’s not like I have pockets.”

  Officer Hansen’s gaze went over her, then snapped to her face as if he were embarrassed to be caught looking at her body. “Ms. Daniels, do you have Mr. Dupont’s phone number?”

  “Yes,” Bethany said. “But it’s on my phone that’s locked in their house.”

  Officer Hansen’s radio buzzed, and he answered it, listening for a couple of moments. Then he said into the mic, “I’m talking with Elisabeth Daniels. She claims she was working in the house next door, got locked out on the upper balcony, and so climbed onto the Swanson’s balcony and came into their home.”

  The man on the other end of the connection said something that Bethany couldn’t make out.

  Officer Hansen’s gaze cut to Bethany. “Yep, the same one.” A pause. “Right. All she’s got for a record is a traffic violation and a misdemeanor.”

  Mr. Swanson leaned toward his wife. “She’s got a record. How much do you want to bet the misdemeanor is for burglary?”

  “It was a college prank,” Bethany said. “My sorority stole a football team’s mascot costume.”

  Mr. Swanson nodded. “Theft. I told you so.”

  Officer Hansen spoke into his radio again. “Can you bring in a blanket for Ms. Daniels? She’s in need of some clothing.”

  This time the response over the radio came in clear enough for Bethany to hear it. “You mean she’s naked?”

  Officer Hansen lowered his voice. “Mostly, yes.”

  The next response was also clear. Laughing, the man said, “How do you always end up with the interesting calls?”

  Officer Hansen didn’t answer. To the couple, he said. “My partner has checked the perimeter of the building and didn’t see anything or anyone suspicious. The car parked in front of the Duponts’ home is registered to Ms. Daniels. He noted a paint covered sweatshirt on the lawn, so that corroborates with her story. However, we really need to talk to Mr. Dupont, to be sure that he hired her. Do you have their cell phone numbers?”

  Mrs. Swanson nodded and plodded toward the stairs. “Lauren wrote them down for me. I’ll get them.”

  Bethany stood awkwardly in the hallway waiting. Officer Hansen’s gaze kept sliding to her, and then turning quickly away as though he thought he should be watching her but didn’t feel comfortable doing it.

  Another police officer walked up the stairs carrying a thin yellow blanket. He was older than Officer Hansen, with dark hair and a stocky build. His name tag read Martinez. He draped the blanket over Bethany’s shoulders without any of the amusement he’d displayed while talking on the radio. He probably hadn’t thought she’d be able to hear those comments.

  “I’ll check the balcony,” Hansen told Martinez, “and see how she actually got over here. Call the Duponts and get their story.”

  “Talk to Mr. Dupont,” Bethany clarified. “He’s the only one who knew I was coming.”

  While Officer Hansen went down the hallway to the flowered bedroom, Mrs. Swanson came back with a slip of paper. Officer Martinez called Mr. Dupont’s number, and they all stood quietly, waiting to see if anyone picked up. Bethany tugged at her handcuffs. Time seemed to stretch out. Had the phone been ringing for one minute or two?

  Finally the policeman said, “This is Officer Martinez calling from the Seattle Police Department. I need to speak with you about a possible break-in at your neighbor’s home. Please return my call as soon as possible.” Then he gave a phone number.

  Just a message? Mr. Dupont hadn’t picked up. Officer Martinez called Mrs. Dupont next. She didn’t answer either. He left the same message then hung up the phone. “It’s one in the morning in France. They may have turned off their phones and gone to sleep. Is there anyone else
who could verify your story?”

  “The housekeeper,” Bethany said. “I don’t know her number.”

  Officer Martinez turned to Mrs. Swanson. “Do you know which hotel the Duponts are staying at?”

  The woman shrugged. “It had some French name with lots of syllables.” She let out a little huff of indignation. “You’re not going to let this woman go, are you? We want to press charges. She broke into our house. Probably would have robbed us blind if we hadn’t caught her. A person can’t even be safe in their own home anymore.”

  Officer Martinez’s voice turned soothing. “We’ll hold her at the station until we get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, you folks look around and let us know if anything is missing.”

  The police were going to take Bethany in? Did they mean take her to some waiting room, or were they going to put her in a jail cell? “I didn’t touch anything except the door handle. You can dust the place for prints.”

  Officer Martinez turned his soothing voice on Bethany. “There’s no need to raise your voice, ma’am. If this is all a misunderstanding, you’ll be fine.”

  If? Honestly. “Come on, a real criminal would have brought a few accessories to a heist. Like a bag. And car keys. And the rest of her clothes.”

  “I agree,” he said, still soothing.

  She’d been speaking so loudly, she hadn’t heard Officer Hansen come back into the hallway. He’d brought the chair with him and put it down in front of her. “This is what you used to get onto the balcony? A lounge chair?”

  Officer Martinez let out a whistle and shook his head.

  Officer Hansen stared at her, his blue eyes incredulous. “I was joking earlier about you having a death wish, but now I’m not so sure.”

  She shrugged. “It was cold and I didn’t have a lot of choices.”

  “You had the choice to stay put, wait for help, and not plunge three stories to the ground. That seems like a viable option.”

  Shrugging had been a mistake. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, fell to the floor, and lay there like a yellow puddle.

  Officer Hansen picked it up and began to drape it over her shoulders again.

  “It won’t stay put like that,” she said. “You’ll have to wrap it around me like a towel.”

  He hesitated, seemed reluctant to touch her.

  “Trust me,” she told him, “I feel more awkward about this than you do.”

  He nodded. “I’ll take the cuffs off so you can handle the blanket. I don’t think you’re a flight risk.”

  While he did that, Officer Martinez spoke to the Swansons. “We’re still going to take Ms. Daniels down to the station, but I don’t think you folks need to worry that she’s a criminal. They’re usually much better prepared.”

  Chapter Three

  When Bethany reached the police car, Officer Hansen opened the back door for her and waited while she slid onto the hard, plastic seat.

  “Figures,” she said. “I finally found a guy who’ll open the door for me, and he’s taking me to jail.”

  “We’re only taking you to a holding cell. I’m sure Mr. Dupont will vouch for you.” He didn’t shut the door, just stood there eyeing her like he was mentally shaking his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I was waiting to see if you’d put on your seatbelt. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you didn’t.”

  “Oh.” She let go of her blanket and buckled up. “I usually wear mine. Really.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He shut the door and got into the front seat beside his partner.

  Officer Martinez started the car and pulled away from the curb. Bethany watched out the window as they left her red Mazda behind. It seemed so forlorn, sitting there in front of the Duponts’ townhouse.

  The seatbelt made the blanket slide and she adjusted it back up, casting a glance at the camera that was perched on the car ceiling, pointing in her direction. Just what she needed— to know that footage was being taken of her. “You’re not going to take a mugshot of me wearing this blanket, are you?”

  “Not if you prefer the alternative,” Officer Martinez replied.

  Her bra? Not likely.

  Officer Hansen shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, but trust me, it won’t be the worst mugshot we’ve seen.”

  Yeah. It wouldn’t even be her worst mugshot. Or maybe that’s what Officer Hansen meant. Had he seen the picture of her in the mascot outfit? Did that show up with her record? “You don’t have extra clothes down at the station for this sort of thing?” she asked.

  “This sort of thing?” Officer Hansen repeated, amused. “You mean for all the other times we pick up women in lingerie?”

  Which was really too much. “You know, I wouldn’t have had to use my clothes as drop cloths in the first place, if you hadn’t pulled me over and made me late getting back to the Duponts.”

  “And I wouldn’t have had to pull you over, if you hadn’t run a red light.” He turned to Officer Martinez. “Is there a way to change my mind and retroactively issue her a citation? I don’t think she learned anything from my generosity.”

  “Nah, bro,” Officer Martinez said, suppressing a smile. “Best to let it go.”

  She tugged the blanket tighter around her. “What— you don’t think I’ve paid enough for running that light? I’m being hauled to jail. This means I’m never going to be able to run for political office, for fear someone will dig up a mugshot of me wearing the yellow blanket of shame.” She shook her head and leaned back against the seat. “Although, it turns out my mom’s rule about always wearing clean underwear was right. I’ll have to tell her. Oh wait, no I won’t. Because I’m never going to tell anyone about this.”

  “See,” Officer Martinez said to his partner. “She’s learned something valuable. Mom is always right.”

  Officer Hansen seemed unconcerned about her mother, or Bethany’s ruined political career. He turned in his seat, his gaze locking with hers. “The lesson I was talking about is that you only have one life, so you’d better start taking care of it. You used a lounge chair as a bridge— three stories off the ground.”

  “Okay, I admit that was impulsive, but I tend to be impulsive when I’m outside in my underwear.” She cleared her throat. “That didn’t come out right. But you know what I mean.”

  His eyes didn’t leave hers. “Do you realize impulsiveness can kill you? You walked into a stranger’s home without knocking or giving any warning. Some people would have shot you on sight. And let me tell you, the Swansons came pretty close to being those kinds of people.” He didn’t sound as though he approved of the Swansons, which made Bethany like him more.

  “I thought their balcony was part of the Duponts’ house.” She had already explained this. “I was following the cat.”

  “Isn’t that the sort of thing,” he mumbled as he turned back around, “that got Alice in Wonderland into trouble?”

  Bethany smiled despite herself. “She followed a white rabbit. I would have known better.”

  He looked over his shoulder, flashing his blue eyes at her again. “I’m not so sure. To be on the safe side for the rest of the night, you better not pick up anything that says ‘Eat Me.’”

  She laughed. Probably because their conversation had stopped feeling real. “Do you hear that a lot at the police station— ‘Eat Me’?”

  “More than we should,” he said.

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  His expression softened. “Just promise me you’ll think twice before you do anything else that could lead to your untimely death.”

  She didn’t answer. She’d thought about using the chair as a bridge more than twice, and she had still done it anyway.

  The car left the residential area and headed toward downtown. Boxy brown buildings lined the street. The clouds above were blanketing the sky in its usual gray color, with only the slashes of black power lines to break up the monotony.

  “What if you can’t reach the Duponts tonight?” Bethany a
sked. “I mean, for all we know they don’t have international phone coverage. I’m not going to have to stay at the police station until they fly home, am I?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to get a hold of them,” Officer Hansen said.

  That wasn’t really a comforting answer. Granted, the Duponts probably had international coverage. They wouldn’t have given their neighbors their phone number otherwise. But with the luck she’d been having lately, they wouldn’t answer their phone at all. Would she be stuck in jail until next Monday? Could the police hold her that long for trespassing? How exactly did the whole bail thing work?

  Bethany took several deep breaths to calm herself. No point in worrying about that. The police would get a hold of the Duponts. “After you release me, how am I going to get my phone, purse, and keys back?”

  “You’ll have to work that out with the Duponts,” Officer Hansen said. “Maybe someone can let you into the house.”

  Maybe didn’t sound reassuring enough, especially when she knew Marta was leaving for the weekend. “The housekeeper went out of town. Who else would be able to let me in?” She took more deep breaths. The extra oxygen did nothing to calm her. “I need my keys, or I can’t drive to my next job. And my phone has all my contacts on it: my clients, my friends and— oh no.” James. In all the commotion, she’d forgotten about their date tonight.

  “What?” Officer Hansen said, finding her gaze in the mirror.

  “My date tonight— I have no way to let him know I can’t make it. He’ll think I stood him up.”

  “Sorry,” Officer Hansen said. “But look at it this way, if your date is a decent guy, he’ll understand.”

  “He’ll understand that I missed dinner because I was being incarcerated? If he’s a decent guy, he’ll stay as far away from me as possible.”

  “Nah,” Officer Hansen said. “If he has a sense of humor, he’ll think it’s funny. This could be a good litmus test for you.”

  She sank into her seat. “I’m beginning to doubt how much you understand about relationships.”

  He shifted away from the mirror. “I think I understand enough.”