1Before There Was Darkness LongLashes1
Part Eleven
"Hey, Dunbar, welcome back. Good to see you." Jim was not in the mood to hear how glad his partner was to have him back. If would be fine, if it were true.
"I wish, Bellamy. But I'm not officially back on full duty until I get the final clearance. Right now, I've got a ticket that says I'm good for light duty." He wasn't entirely thrilled about it either; he had argued vehemently with the Doctor at his follow-up appointment earlier in the morning.
"Come on, Doc, my head is fine. I haven't had any symptoms for a couple of days now. No headaches, no dizzy spells, no blurred-vision."
"Sorry, Detective, not good enough. If you could tell me that you'd been symptom free for a week that would mean something. Unfortunately, though, for you and me, your head isn't the only thing I need to pass clearance on here."
"If I come back on Friday and I'm still good, what then? Could you cut me a break?'
"I'm afraid my hands are tied by the Department's own policy. Until you can perform all the requirements of your job, and correct me if I'm wrong, but the ability to drive a car and draw your weapon are all part of the normal requirements, I can't give you a full duty pass."
"Is there anyway that this thing can come off sooner than you think?" he asked, referring to the cumbersome cast that encased his right arm, knuckles to elbow.
"Not likely. We'll do another x-ray in a couple of weeks and give you a better prognosis then."
Jim raised both arms, waving his left hand in a dismissive gesture of utter exasperation. "Alright, alright. If that's the best I'm going to get."
"I'm afraid that's all I can do. Sorry, Detective, but here's your light duty pass." So that was that, and that was so damn frustrating! How many times had he been forced to draw his weapon in the past two years? Twice, three times tops. And driving a car; isn't that what partners were for? Damn it, he thought to himself, I just want to get back to work, do my job.
"So, you tied to the desk, Jim?"
He scowled. "Looks like it, until I get this damn thing off," he said, holding up his right arm.
"Geez, sorry, Jim. That sucks." Jim had made it very clear that he didn't hold a particular admiration for the administrative aspects of police work. Delegation was a power tool especially when you had a rookie partner and he had used it to his advantage.
"Tell me about it." He dropped his coat over the back of his chair and pulled his laptop from its case, glancing at the files still sitting in his in-box where he had dumped them last week. At least he had a few reports to get typed and filed; that would occupy some of his time.
"Hey, how are things going on the investigation?" he asked, referring to what had landed him in this quandary in the first place.
"We're working a couple of leads on the perp. But we did some research on that tattoo like you suggested. Damn if we didn't get a match! We pinned it down to a New Jersey gang out of Trenton, bunch of real badasses, Jim. ID'd our DOA on Monday, Reggie Dees, twenty-six, long rap sheet, drug trafficking, car theft, gun running, you name it. Good news is, I think we're pretty close to blowing the whole thing wide open."
"That's great. Congratulations." It was difficult to mask his irritation. He had such an incredible itch to get back out in the field. He wasn't going to be able to scratch that itch until he had full use of his right arm. That meant no cast and that meant at least three more weeks.
As irritated as he was with that predicament, though, he wasn't about to let anything detract from the one bright spot to this day. Pulling his wallet from his coat pocket, he flipped it open and removed the business card she had handed him; the one he'd checked for everyday, just to make sure it was still there.
Not wanting to appear too anxious, he had talked himself into waiting until after his Doctor's appointment. Considering the manner in which his morning had been progressing to this point, downhill in a hurry, he wasn't inclined to wait any longer. Christine Sullivan; Executive Fashion Editor; Style Magazine. He dialed the main number listed on the front of her card.
"Christine Sullivan, please…Yes, it's Detective Jim Dunbar." Dan looked over at his partner and raised one eyebrow. He'd have to hear about this one later.
"Hey, it's Jim……Yeah, I'm good, thank. You?...Oh, you got them, that's great…you're welcome... I'm glad. That was the whole point…I do? Sorry, I guess I am a little down…. .No, it's nothing, really. I was just hoping to get a full work clearance this morning...not yet…But enough of that…How was the show?…Good, that's good…So, are we still on for tonight?...How about 7:00?…Pick you up there?…That's fine, that's good…Wear something warm and casual, okay, nothing too dressy…Hey, how do I get in after hours?…In the lobby at 7:00…Great. See you then." He hung up the phone, a slight smile on his face. Things were definitely beginning to look up.
"So, what's up with that, Jim?" He'd noticed Dan trying to making a very concerted effort to look like he wasn't eavesdropping.
"Nothing, it's nothing." At least it's nothing yet, he thought.
He had put a great deal of thought into this first date; it helped to fill the slow passage of time on his down days. More than that, though, was his desire for it to be something special. He didn't want an ordinary evening to make that all-important third impression; she certainly wasn't, by any stretch of the imagination, just an ordinary woman.
Stepping out of the carriage, he crossed the sidewalk and gave the revolving door a solid push. It was not quite 7:00 but she was already there, waiting for him. He had mentioned casual attire for their evening out but this outfit went far beyond his expectations; she was in a word, breathtaking. She had chosen a soft red turtleneck that hugged her petite curves in all the right areas and paired it with tight form fitting black jeans that only served to emphasize how very long and slender her legs really were. A matching black pea jacket and bright red scarf were draped casually over her elegant shoulders. She turned at the sound of the door and smiled shyly.
In his hand, he held another single, long stem red rose. "This is for you," he said, holding it out to her. "You look amazing."
"Thank you," she said softly. "So do you." That little hint of pleasure was back in her eyes and that was a good sign.
"You ready?" She slipped her arms into the sleeves of her jacket, tucked the scarf under the collar and nodded. Jim placed his hand gently on her arm. "Well, then, let's go."
"Where are you taking me? You've been very secretive about your plans for tonight. I thought we agreed that when you called you were going to tell me what you had in mind."
"We did, and I will, when the time is right."
They stepped out into the chill of a mid-December evening. The winter sky was clear; small white puffs of cotton candy clouds floated in a sea of black. The air was crisp and cold, too dry for snow.
"Your carriage awaits, Ms. Sullivan."
She looked up and gasped; it stopped her in her tracks. Waiting at the curb was an open white buggy, drawn by a lone white horse, his tail and mane braided with red ribbons, a collar of jingle bells and holly around his neck. The horseman, attired in black tails and a top hat, stood beside the rig, holding the small side door open for them.
"This is amazing, Jim." There was that look of pleasure again.
"Good, that's what I was going for." He reached behind the seat and pulled out a thick woolen blanket, opening it wide and patted the seat beside him, a hint that he wanted her to slide a little closer. "Warm enough?" he asked, as he tucked it in tightly around them. "We've got a bit of a ride ahead of us. There's another blanket back there if we need it."
'No, this is good. I'm fine, thank you. But you're not going to tell me where we're going are you?"
"What's the matter, Christine, you don't like surprises?" He turned to her and grinned. Everything he needed to see, wanted to see, was reflected in her beautiful eyes. At that moment, he knew it; he had her.