A Legal Trap - Chapter 5

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The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Last Updated: 2/14/2024 to smooth out portions of the story.

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March 10th, 5:12 AM
I had managed to catch a couple minutes of sleep on the way to the Scottsdale police station. When the car’s engine turned off I was instantly awake and wasn’t surprised that I’d drifted off. Paul looked over his shoulder at me to see if I was ready to go. I nodded and followed Jacob out of the car. No one said a word, and when we got to the building, Paul hopped a couple steps to get ahead of us and got the door open. I smiled a ‘Thanks'. Jacob remained silent and looked deep in thought.

At the front desk, Jacob told the officer behind the glass partition that we were here to meet with FBI Director Keith, who was working with Captain Barrett. The officer made a call, and within a minute, a sergeant was leading us back to what I assumed was a command room.

We entered the brightly lit room to a buzz of activity. In the center of the room was a large table with people gathered around a half-dozen computers talking about whatever they were seeing or likely in charge of. There was the sound of a tactical radio coming from speakers embedded in the paneled ceiling, which made me jump the first time it crackled to life. Paul and I held back as Jacob shook hands with who I assumed was Captain Barrett, he had a name tag on, and then the FBI Director.

They talked for a couple minutes while Paul and I looked over the gathered crew in the room. I could tell the police officers easily enough in the crowd of eleven people in groups of two or three—they had uniforms on—and I assumed the people in suits were either FBI agents or Scottsdale PD detectives. I watched Paul slip away to talk to a guy in a suit.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and it startled me. I turned to see Jacob standing there with a guy in a suit. He first apologizing for startling me and then introduced the guy in a suit with him.

"Elizabeth, this is Phoenix FBI Director Landon Keith," he said.

Director Keith and I shook hands. He was a nice-looking man, but his eyes and the way he carried himself told me he was a serious law enforcement professional that didn't put up with a bunch of crap—he commanded the room, even though this wasn't his turf to command.

"Nice to meet you, Elizabeth. Jacob's told me about your work on this; we should have brought you on board sooner," Director Keith said, smiling.

"Thank you, sir... Really, Paul is the brains, and, well, he got us access to the email account that got us on the right track," I replied.

I was trying to control my emotions, the cadence of my voice, the enunciations, and any nervous twitching I'm sure I was exhibiting while putting that response out there. I'm sure I sounded stupid, but I tried to look confident that I knew more than the passing fact or two in regards to Amber’s disappearance.

"Excellent... I see he's already talking with one of my guys," Landon was saying when I stopped daydreaming.

I looked to my right and could see Paul in the middle of a conversation about something with one of the suits. I smiled at the director with nothing to add.

"So, I was telling Jacob that since this is a multiagency investigation, there is a lot of coordination we had to get lined up. I think we have done a damn good job at that in such a short amount of time. Our office in Santa Fe has triangulated and pin-pointed the location of the cell phone number you provided us. We’ve had someone on the house since earlier this morning. The Santa Fe PD team will be executing the extraction shortly. We facilitated a search warrant request with a judge a few hours ago."

"Com-check B-one-one... Ops channel 3. Copy..." A voice above us interrupted the director.

"Eleven is 5 by... Holding outer orbit, Charles... Tact 1: We are clear; viz., twenty-five."

"That's the air support. It sounds like they are probably getting close; excuse me," and the director walked toward Paul, introducing himself and shaking hands with him.

"I'm a little nervous," Jacob said softly.

The energy in the room was thick and bristled now with every radio transmission. I could only imagine what it was like wherever Amber was right now, having all these people gather to go in after her.

"Everything will work out, Mr. Wentz; this will be over soon," I said, trying to sound encouraging.

"I certainly hope so..."

March 10th, 6:16 AM
"Command: Code Green. Go," the voice above our heads from the speaker said calmly.

The group of us in the conference room was now along for the ride, blindly trying to make sense of the chatter coming from the speakers overhead. With all the technology, why weren't we watching video from officer POV cameras or some kind of drone feed from above? I could feel the goose bumps on my arms rise, and I felt chilled in the crowded room. Please be all right; let no bad happen.

"POLICE! SEARCH WARRANT!" blared from the speakers loudly.

That was followed by someone shouting, "Breach! Breach! Breach!"

And then, "Clear! Right! Go!"

Silence, for a moment, and then, "Left, clear! POLICE! SEARCH WARRANT!"

There was a long stretch of silence before we heard, "Got a basement..."

That was a different voice having said that and it made me wonder how many people were on scene and had entered the house Amber was in.

A calm voice began speaking, "Second floor, heat signature, one only and moving... Back room south, small room, schematics say bathroom... Say again, still just the one."

Silence for five more seconds, and someone could be heard yelling, "POLICE! SEARCH WARRANT!"

"Anders, down to the basement with Minks, - Go! Bowen, Jenner, up stairs, on me."

Silence now...

I wondered what was going on and where in the house they were. Did Amber know we were coming for her? Would she be relieved? Would she put up a fight? If they had the ability to pick up heat-signals, why weren't they just rushing toward them? Was there really no one else in the house? There should be at least two people there, right?

I sensed Paul beside me, and he leaned in and said, "Intense... They've got someone outside the house, probably a sniper, with the ability to see heat-signatures through the walls. That's some futuristic tech, not foolproof, but some kind of magic."

His voice was low, and I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck. I wished he was holding me again like earlier, but that wasn’t going to happen, no matter how much I wanted that. I had to resist the urge to take his hand as they brushed softly together as he moved a half-step away. Oh well, at least he explained why they were not rushing toward whatever they could see upstairs as a heat signature.

The extraction team knew what they were doing, and to err on the side of caution was probably their mandate. I just wanted this to be over, and I looked at Jacob; he looked worried still. The professionals in the room all looked like they were listening to a commercial between football plays—calm but on edge as if ready to react to some issue.

"We’re clear lower! Securing one... back and covering."

There was no reply. What had just been said made no sense to me, and I had no idea which group of officers was which now.

A hushed voice, lower than the previous ones, began speaking, "Three doors. Sig is left South."

A pause followed by, "Confirmed, left South... Advised: Sig is prone... No movement in 30…"

The reply, "Left South, prone..."

There were two clicking sounds followed by someone shouting, "POLICE!"

Twenty long seconds of silence were followed by, "Clear left South... One unconscious... Bowen hold with the woman, Jenner on me."

Again, there was a long bout of silence, only this time that lasted for nearly a full minute.

"Clear upstairs. Command, we are clear... Repeat: clear... We have secured one. The house is clear, one mark. Minks, EMS up here now, left South... Fire holds position."

As if on cue, the entire room finally took a breath. Paul hugged me, which was a bit of surprise. When I looked over at Jacob he appeared relieved. There were many smiles, but some serious faces were still working at computers. The FBI Director was on his phone, and the Scottsdale PD Captain was going over something with another officer—wasn't this over?

There was plenty of chatter from the speakers above us now, but much more calm, less yelling and almost matter-of-fact conversations were going on. I tried to follow, but I checked out pretty much after hearing they had the 'woman'—Amber was safe. It's over.

I could feel the tears well in my eyes, and I didn’t care who saw my relief.

March 10th, 6:33 AM
It seemed like it took forever to get a status on Amber, but the FBI Director relayed that the extraction team had found Amber unconscious in the upstairs bathroom. We had heard that report live just minutes ago, but it was good to have that confirmed. The initial report from the EMS on scene was that she was heavily drugged, possibly sedated, her chest area was heavily bandaged, and she was being transported to a hospital; nothing further was shared. Jacob was on speaker phone with Stephanie, letting her listen in to the FBI Director go over things, but she interrupted to get the hospital name so they could be there when she arrived.

The FBI Director explained the guy we were looking for was not found, which I'm sure angered the Carson’s and Jacob. It angered me. How could this person do this to a kid and leave her alone?

The director said the Santa Fe PD would be processing the house we were told, and when they had more information, he would be in touch with Jacob. Jacob spoke a few words to the Carson’s and said he would call them back. Then, as quickly as the call ended, the director shook our hands, thanked everyone in the room for a job well done, and walked out with Jacob.

Not having captured our 'Daddy' was disheartening. Where had he gone, and why would he leave Amber there alone? Did he know we were on to him? I looked around for Paul, finding him with one of the FBI agents looking at something on a computer. I took a step toward him as my phone began to ring. I pulled it from my purse; it was a number I didn't recognize but had a Seattle area code of '206'.

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth, I'm going to get a ride with Landon. I will catch up with you and Paul later."

"Yes, sure, Mr. Wentz. I'll let Paul know." I was confused as to why he was calling me.

"Thank you for everything today. Elizabeth, my family, and I very much appreciate everything you've contributed. Please call Janet; let her know we found Amber, but nothing else."

"Oh, a sure... Yes, I will... I can call her Mr. Wentz." And the line went dead.

Now I was twice as confused. Why hadn't he called Paul to say he was catching a ride with the FBI director? And why did he want me to let Janet know about Amber? How did he get my phone number? Janet? Paul?

I did not want to make a call to Janet! I looked toward Paul, who was still deep in conversation with two FBI agents. Great! I don't want to make this call! I looked at my phone and pulled up my recent calls. I clicked on Janet's number from last night. I was sure I would be waking her, but she answered on the first ring and sounded wide-awake.

"Elizabeth, is there news?"

"Yes... Ah, Ms. Larson, we have Amber. The police were able to get her and,"

"That's amazing news! Oh, I bet the Carson’s are so relieved. Thank God," she said, cutting me off. “Did they get the man who lured her?”

Had someone told her that she’d been lured away from her home in Phoenix?

"Everyone is relieved," I replied. Janet sounded truly excited about the news; why was I so nervous right now?

"Is there something else, Elizabeth? No suspect?" she asked again.

"No, I mean... Well, they only found her, and they've taken her to the hospital to be checked out," was my answer.

"Oh... Of course, I can see where that might be a standard practice. What hospital? I would like to send flowers," Janet commented.

"I'm actually not really sure. The police didn't let me in on everything going on, and Jacob has already left. I can try to get that information and call you back." It was a lie. I knew the hospital in Santa Fe Amber was being taken to; would Janet know I was lying?

"Okay, do that, please. I would like to send flowers. How is Jacob?"

"Mr. Wentz is relieved, as are Carson’s. I think once Amber is checked out, they will be ready to move on."

I felt like I was repeating myself to at least provide Janet with content on what was going on, as I was required to do by her, but not Jacob. This was so screwed up; why was I in the middle of this crap?!

"Well, this is great news, really great... Do what you can to get the hospital information for me."

"Yes, Ms. Larson, I'll be sure to do that."

"Thanks for calling Elizabeth; talk to you shortly."

I didn’t get a chance to reply before the line was silent. Something isn’t adding up with all this crap. I stood there relieved the call was over, but totally spent and my mind spinning. This was an hour twenty-seven for me, with barely any food or sleep. Augh!

March 10th, 7:46 a.m.
Paul hadn't figured out I'd had enough of standing around and wanted to go back to the hotel, so I interrupted his little FBI computer-boy love-fest and asked for the keys to the car. Twenty minutes later, he was tapping on the driver's side window to wake me up and I let him in.

"Sorry, I was going over some stuff and even learned a few things."

He seemed very aroused about his FBI run-in, like some fan boy.

"That's good," I replied sleepily. I rubbed my eyes and was surprised at how warm the car had gotten already.

"Warm in here, eh?" he asked.

Was he back to that mind-reading shit again?

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound annoyed.

When he started the car, I turned the AC up too high, which was going to make it hard to talk—unless we yelled at each other.

"Oe humge?"

I looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language; it was hard to hear anything, but I was certain he’d garbled that last question to me. I watched him turn the AC down.

"You hungry?" he asked.

Was that what he’d garbled at me? Augh…

"Yeah, but I just want to go to sleep... Can we just go back to the hotel?"

"Sure, be there in like ten minutes," he said, all smiles.

I wasn't in the mood for cheer, though we had plenty to cheer about, and I just looked out the window all the way to the hotel. When we got there, we went our separate ways, politely, even though he looked to want to chat about our morning. I was a little more awake now, but I still just wanted to see big Z's floating over my head and in my eyes casino slot machine Z’s whizzing by until I was out, dead to the world. I hoped he didn’t think I was being a bitch.

When I got to my room, I wasted no time cranking up the AC, stripping down to just panties, and tossing the clothes I was wearing and my bra wherever they may land.

My head hit the pillow a few seconds later...

March 10th, 4:18 PM
I was awakened at 11:00 AM by house cleaning, but they were smart enough to see it wasn't a good time and left without having a long, drawn-out conversation about it with me. I was back to sleep within thirty seconds, probably, and now as I looked through blurry eyes at the clock, it was after 4 PM... Augh...

I sat up slowly, turned the bedside lamp on, and ended up staring at the floor. I couldn't remember anything I had dreamt, but I did like the color I had painted my toenails the night before coming here—there was glitter in the polish, and I could see the shimmer even in the dimly lit room. I flexed my little piggy’s back and forth and then felt chilled.

Crap, it was cold in here! I made my way to the thermostat in just my panties to turn off the AC. Yikes! Had I really set it to sixty degrees?! I remembered seeing a thick, fluffy resort monogrammed robe in the closet and quickly pulling it on; it took some of the sting out of being cold.

I headed for the kitchen, grabbed water, and plopped down on the couch. I turned the TV on to see if I could catch anything on the news; maybe Amber was mentioned. Flipping through too many channels, I gave up. No news, at least not local, so I settled on Judge Judy and really began to space out. I could probably sleep a couple more hours I thought watching Judy rip the plaintiff apart. What an idiot! You should just keep your mouth shut, dude.

I noticed the telephone message light was flashing and leaned over to pick up the receiver, pressing 1 for messages.

"Message 1..." a short pause, and then, "Hey, call me. I got some updates."

That was Paul; at least I was pretty sure it was him.

"Message 2...," pause, and then, "Elizabeth... Please call me as soon as you get this. I called your cell and there was no answer. I would like the name of the hospital Amber was taken to. Thank you."

That was Janet, and she did not sound happy with me. I would have to deal with that sooner than later. Augh! I dialed Paul's room, and he answered on the third ring.

"Hey, are you finally up?" he asked with too much cheer.

I stared at Judge Judy blankly, wondering how he knew it was me, though I hadn't spoken.

"Yeah, I could use something to eat," I complained.

"Want me to pick something up and bring it to you?"

He sounded way too chipper, and no, seeing me in my current state was not going to work. Was he out somewhere? No, I called his room. Come on brain, wake up!

"No, thank you, though... You said you had updates?" I asked, trying to move the focus of the call elsewhere.

"Oh, yeah," he said, sounding as if he were a little disappointed for whatever reason. "Amber's probably back home by now, I would guess. They checked her out at the hospital; there were no problems with the breast augmentation surgery or her expected recovery. She was released to the Carson's, and according to Jacob, she boarded a medical flight at around one o'clock.

“The FBI was able to find the doctor who had done her implant surgery; no charges are expected to be leveled as Amber was of legal age. He is board-certified and runs a respected plastic surgery clinic. He's also being very cooperative, so that's a plus for him; he probably doesn't want any bad press.

“He had to have met with Amber prior to the surgery, you would think, so something still doesn't feel quite right about that whole chain of events. I'm hoping there's more to the story, but I guess the bottom line is that the procedure wasn't done in some backroom by a hack using pig intestines filed with used motor oil. "

He finished all that with a strained laugh at his attempt at comedy.

My sleepiness was wearing off, and I felt a pang of excitement hearing that Amber was probably home. I was also happy to hear that she wasn't mutilated by some hack.

"Good point about a pre-consult likely happening—no one mentioned that? Is she talking about what happened at all?"

I was going to mention that the pig intestine thing wasn't funny, but I didn't have the energy. I mean, really, how is that even remotely funny?

"Not that Jacob mentioned. Guess our 'Daddy' paid for the procedure with a cashier's check last week. I'm sure the police or FBI will be looking into that at some point. Still, I agree that the whole chain of events is off a bit. Surgery was done first thing Wednesday, so there were a few days she could have met the doctor. Something to ask Jacob next time I talk to him."

There was a long pause, and when I didn't speak, he kept the update rolling.

"Interesting twist: the police were able to pull a number of prints from the house they found her in, which was an Air BNB. Matches on three sets of prints were found—of the four sets they recovered. One woman identified herself via her concealed carry permit; she had rented the place two weekends ago.

“There were prints from two Mexican nationals, but they had rented the place for two night’s mid-week last week. Those people cleared via alibi and the Air BNB rental owner.

“And finally, a good number of prints from the bedroom and kitchen they think are our guy—the problem is he's a ghost. No record of him was found anywhere... I think they pulled some DNA and were going to run that, but if he's not on any grid with fingerprints, then I doubt he's in some database based on DNA. Who knows?"

Huh? How can someone be off the grid? I thought about it a little more—I guess that is not that big of a stretch. Stay out of legal trouble; what are they going to have on someone?

"Do they have a description, a picture, anything? Are they talking to Amber? Can she identify him?"

"Nope, nothing. I guess there will be a sketch artist working with the Air BNB rental owner, and one will eventually make it to the staff at the plastic surgeon's office. I'm sure Amber will go through the same kind of thing when she's up to it. I haven't heard if she's said much to the police yet," he paused for a second and added, "The only thing in the house were clothes for Amber, some with tags on them still. The guy didn't leave anything in the house; it's like he didn't stay there or something. I'm curious as to whether the Patreon video was shot in that house or some other location."

"Did Amber have a phone with her, like a burner thing or whatever?"

"I think Jacob mentioned a second phone, but I don't know if they recovered anything from it yet. Our guy's phone was obviously recovered, but I don't know what was recovered from it—like pictures or other phone numbers. A lot of investigation is still to come. This guy was awfully stealthy for your run-of-the mill pedophile. That Patreon video did not get his face on film, so he's one spooky dude when you add all this up."

I knew what he was alluding to too: transgender abductions, missing persons, murders, or just young girls in general sold into the sex trade—this was really some scary shit, and our guy was certainly qualified spooky and more.

"Are you working on any of this?" I asked.

"No, pretty much Santa Fe PD, Phoenix PD, and the FBI are doing all the heavy lifting now. I'm just waiting to hear what Jacob needs me to do; if anything, then, back to the real world, I guess."

It struck me that I really didn't know much about Paul besides his focus on finding Amber. Obviously, he had a life outside of finding a Trans kid. I didn't even know where he lived; did he have family or a girlfriend? Kids? How did he know Jacob? He didn't wear a ring, but these days that didn't mean shit. Is this his business—private investigations via computer forensics?

I did know about his brother; that was something, and certainly that he knew a great deal about me—too much about me.

"So, I'm probably done here also... Did Jacob mention anything about me?"

"No, I don't know much else. Any chance you'd be up for dinner later?"

Yes... I'd like, maybe get an opportunity to figure out who you are. Did he know I wanted that, or was he trying to be polite?

"Sure, that would be nice."

"Great, wanna meet in the lobby, say five o'clock?" he asked.

What? No, I'd barely have makeup applied by five! Meet in the lobby—that's casual, friend-meeting stuff, right? He wasn’t coming to my room to get me… Augh!

"How about five-forty-five? I literally just crawled out of bed," I complained.

"It's a date, then. I'll see you in the lobby at five forty-five."

A date? Was he just saying that as a colloquial interpretation for two people meeting? This wasn't like a 'date' date thing, right? It was us just being casual—like friends hanging out.

"I'll see you then..."

The line went dead, and I felt a flutter in my stomach, a nervous energy building quickly. Augh! Why is this so confusing?! I know it's new, but does it have to be so riddled with newness? I rolled my eyes, not a real word dummy... I needed to get moving!
March 10th, 5:39 PM
I had changed my outfit twice, going from business casual to comfortable, which meant dressy jeans and a nice top. The skirt I had put on first was flirty, but none of my tops really seemed to match and totally blew the vibe I wanted to present. Did I want a vibe? What is my vibe? Was I trying to be flirty? No, I just need to relax and be me. Stop thinking about everything and every little detail!!

In the end, I went wearing dressy jeans, a flirty top, and heels. I prayed I wasn't underdressed, and when I rounded the corner to the lobby, Paul was waiting; he was dressed in jeans too, with a nice polo shirt and loafers. Thank God! Just friends, and just casual – that’s all this is.

"You look great," he said as he tried to awkwardly hug me. I patted his back a couple times, and the hug ended as awkwardly as it began.

"Thanks; I was hoping we weren't going on a dress-up date." I purposely used the word ‘date’ to see if that fazed him.

He chuckled, "I probably should have said something about where I wanted to take you. That probably would have set the tone."

No reaction to the word ‘date’; guess this is just us hanging out. What did he mean by tone? I felt defensive and afraid I was going to look that way too, so I reached into my purse for some lip gloss, which would hopefully mask my feelings as I tried to apply it and replied.

"Where are we going?"

He was obviously excited, and it showed, "I read some Yelp reviews on this hole in the wall Mexican place—it sounds amazing! I really like Mexican food, you do..." and he quickly stopped speaking and looked very uncomfortable. "I... I hope you do."

He already knew I liked Mexican food. How? Had he looked at my Facebook or some blog post I'd made? Don't freak out! It's not bad that he knows this; I can relax knowing that he’s maybe paying more attention to my wants.

"I think you already know I like Mexican food, don't you?"

Paul squirmed a little, "I, ah… I saw a post you were tagged in on Facebook. So, yes, I know you like Mexican food. I’m really..."

I put a finger to his lips and smiled, "It's OK... We're good; let's go enjoy some amazing Mexican food. I could use a drink after the last however many hours of chasing Amber down."

My smiling put Paul at ease and I’d obviously just let him off the hook for his digging into my general likes / dislikes. It really was a matter of choosing my battles; all I could think was that, in the scope of things, it was somewhat nice that he had found that out and wanted to make dinner special on our 'date'. All good...

March 10th, 7:13 PM
Dinner was amazing. The hole in the wall really wasn't much more than four walls, a kitchen, and bathrooms, which I think were out back. It took us longer than expected to get here, but it turned out to be worth it. I was stuffed by the time I slid my plate back.

From the fresh tortillas made by three old women near the kitchen entrance to the salsa I could literally drink out of the little bowl provided, it was that good. A plus was the loud salsa music blaring on tiny speakers placed in fake plastic trees to set the atmosphere. To say this place was amazing really didn't do it justice. Color me impressed.

We had to wait about ten minutes for a table, but it really didn't feel like that much of a wait. There wasn't a bar, so we milled around the entrance with eight to ten others trying to get a table. Once we were seated, we agreed to order a mammoth margarita to share. When it arrived, it took up a lot of space on the rickety steel table we were seated at, its wobbly legs making me worry the thing was going to slip off of it. All the tables looked like dumpster dive saves, and I noticed several others with the same wobble issue and the same margarita space problem.

When our food arrived, which was enough to feed four people, I could tell things were loosening up a little between us, but the conversation needed a different direction.

"OK, mister, no more Amber talk until tomorrow, agreed?"

I blurted that out because he was starting to tell me again about the same computer surveillance crap he'd told me about in the car on the way here and again while we were waiting for the table.

He smiled back at me, "Yeah, I can do that. Drink on it."

I nodded and leaned in as he did to slurp the soupy mix of margaritas with two Dos Equis beers sitting upside down in the massive glass bowl of the drink. I was smiling when I sat back, grabbing a chip and some salsa. Damn, this stuff was good!

"So, what do you do for fun?" he asked.

I looked at Paul and decided to mess with him.

"Don't you know already?"

He laughed, not uncomfortably, but more heartfelt, and I wondered if maybe the alcohol in him was beginning to loosen him up. I could feel a very nice buzz working warmth all over my body.

"I deserved that... To be honest, I don't know a lot about your present-day activities; you run, right?"

"Yeah, I burn off a lot of aggression running."

"Probably sucks in the rain," he said, biting into his street taco.

"I don't mind; it really frees up my brain cells after a long day of legal research."

"Is that stuff boring? I mean, do you like what you’re doing?"

I watched him lean in to suck some more margarita down while watching me.

"Eh, it's a job. The people at Jacob's firm are really nice. The money is okay for now," I replied.

The look on his face made me think about being interviewed by Jacob—was this conversation between friends or was he doing research? I needed to flip this back on him. Here goes nothing, I thought.

"You know, I don't even know where you are from, and you know more than enough about me. Tell me about you."

He was still smiling, maybe contemplating my request.

"Well, I'm Paul," he said as he reached across the table and we shook hands.

I giggled. I had better watch my margarita intake, I thought.

He asked, "How old do you think I am?"

That question threw me, but I guessed conservatively, "Thirty... thirty-five max."

"Not bad... I'm thirty-six." There was a pause to contemplate something before he asked, "Do you think I'm single, married, or divorced?"

I had been thinking all this time that he was closer to forty or older! Yikes, why was I so bad at guessing some guy’s age? Good thing I guessed less, right? Single or married? Hmm… I gave him a mock-raised eyebrow look, as though I were studying him and trying to decide how to answer.

"Single now, never married, had a long-term relationship, though that just didn't work out."

"Really? What happened to that long-term relationship?" he asked, looking genuinely interested in my summation now.

"I don't know; maybe you didn't do the laundry?" I replied, trying to lighten this back up.

"Actually, I was married. She's a flight attendant and lives here in Phoenix. We made it about three good years being married, and we dated three before getting married. She's remarried now; he's a pilot. I'm over it, but still a little sore. She took the dog."

"Oh, I'm sorry... I..." I stammered uncomfortably.

"It's okay; I'm really over it. The dog thing bugs me now and then."

"So you lived here in Phoenix?"

"No, what gave you that impression?"

Paul still had an interested look on his face, not sad or annoyed, interested in whether or not I could read him—maybe?

"I just thought... Well, since she was here in Phoenix," I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, and I knew my guard was down due to the alcohol—it was best to shut up, so I did just that.

"Nah, I live in West Seattle, born and raised, if you can believe that. That's why I asked you about running in the rain." He was smiling now, "By that look on your face, I’ve surprised you."

I was surprised; all this time I just assumed he was from, I don't know, New York, then changed my mind to him being from Phoenix because of this ex-wife. My heart soared a little, I felt a little more relaxed, and it felt like our conversation was really beginning to pick up. He was letting me in…

We talked about all the local stuff back home in Seattle and it made talking about ourselves easier, I think. Well, until politics crept into being the subject and we agreed to disagree - moving on to other topics that were easier to discuss and less contentious. I learned more about Paul in the next hour than I ever thought I would—like he played hockey, was a Sounders season ticket holder, his parents lived in West Seattle, he liked all sorts of music, and still liked walking through the Pike Place Market.

He was so normal and made me laugh so much that, at one point, I was crying from laughing so hard.

"What do you think? Want to share another margarita?"

My eyes gave him a conspirator's look before saying, "Yeah, but I doubt I would be able to walk out of here."

His face became serious, "Agreed... I'm feeling it a little too, and I still have to drive us back. How about we check out the hopping hotel bar scene?"

I nodded, and he made a gesture toward our server. We had been talking so much that I hadn't noticed the place was half-empty. What time was it anyway?

March 10th, 9:26 p.m.
I had tried to pay my share of the bill, but Paul wasn't having any of it, so as we entered the hotel bar, I told him the drinks were on me. I had picked up my shiny new American Express Corporate card and was hell-bent on breaking it in I told him. He laughed, told me to surprise him with a 'fancy' rum drink, and excused himself, heading toward the restroom.

I ordered two top-shelf rum and Cokes and then sat at the same booth we'd sat in the night before.

"Our booth... So nice of them to keep it reserved for us." I watched him pick up his drink, raise it in salute, and then take a sip. I could tell he was thinking about it. “Tastes like rum and Coke to me."

I laughed a little and took a sip of my drink.

"Do this," I clucked my tongue on the roof of my mouth. He did the same a few times, trying to mimic my actions. We probably looked stupid making clucking sounds, but he played along.

"Any aftertaste in your mouth?" I asked.

"No, should there be?"

"Good rum will go down smoothly; there will be no harsh tingle in your mouth, but you should have a nice afterglow. That's not scientific by any means, but I've always found it to be true," I explained.

"I always thought good liquor was served neat... I got no glow in my mouth," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, they only had middle-of-the road stuff, so the Coke helps to mask that it's really not the best stuff."

He laughed, which I appreciated. Paul could be funny when he wanted, easily carry on a conversation about anything, and had a way of making me feel special the whole time he was batting those hazel-colored eyes at me.

I've had way too much to drink tonight, I thought. Don't think about wanting anything specific with this guy or he might figure that out with his mind-reading shit he’s done a few times since we met...

March 10th, 10:59 PM
We weren't the last to leave the bar, but I had yawned a couple times over the last fifteen minutes, apologizing profusely each time, and we decided to call it a night. In total, I had two decent rums and Coke's, while Paul had finished the one I bought him, and then switched to beer, finishing two before we headed back to our rooms.

He insisted on walking me back, and when we were past the front desk and in the first hallway to my room, I stopped, put a hand on his shoulder, and said, "These babies need to go."

I slipped off my heels, and I shrank a couple inches, and he was now looking down at me. I remember him saying he was 5'"11"—that was probably about right. I wasn't sloppy, drunk, or anything, but I was giddy and feeling playful.

"You, sir, may now walk me to my room, if and only if you can..." I dropped my heels and gave him a grin before I bolted down the hallway saying, "Catch me..."

I made it to the first corner and looked back to see that he had just picked up my second shoe and was trying to recover from being left in the dust. The race was on!

Nearing the elevators, I looked back, and he was closing on me. No time to wait, stairs! I hit the door at half speed, taking the stairs two at a time. I was at the second-floor landing when I heard him entering the stairway.

"Hey, not fair," he complained, but I was through to the hallway, sprinting to the end like some rowdy kid, and made it to my door as he popped out into the hallway.

He dropped a shoe and looked at me with a big smile.

"Yeah, you cheat," he said loud enough for me to hear him and not wake the entire floor. He walked the rest of the way, stopping a couple feet from me to curtsey with my heels extended.

"Why, thank you, good sir," I said taking them from him. I wasn't winded, but I was certainly wide awake, heart thumping out of my chest, and pretty sure I was feeling that alcohol buzz now.

"You're welcome, my lady."

We chuckled a little, and I fished my key card from my purse.

"I had to run with my purse, if that's any consolation," I said over my shoulder, getting the door open and my bare foot against it.

"It's not," he said, looking like he was about to say something and thinking better of it didn’t say what was on his mind.

I watched him and raised a brow, which got him to say, "This was a lot of fun. I needed a break from the past week of working on this case. See you in the morning?"

And as high, alive, alert, and tingling with the buzz from too much alcohol I was feeling, I was absolutely wishing he would just read my mind. It didn't look like he was getting the message, unfortunately. I was trying to think as loudly as I could for him to 'Ask to come in...' or just straight up 'Kiss me...'

I considered for a moment asking him to come in, but resigned myself to his 'See you in the morning?' question as him turning down what I was thinking and did not catch on. It was the end of the night. My mood was crumbling now anyway; my spirit was crashing, and I just needed to get over myself.

"Yeah," I pushed the door a little more open, and I smiled my best 'I'm so happy' smile. "I had a really nice time tonight, thank you. Goodnight Paul..."

I stepped into my room as he was turning to walk away. The door clunked heavily behind me, and I was in an empty room, with crushing silence blanketing me, sucking the best of the evening away.

March 10th, 11:02 PM
I physically jumped at the light tap on my door. I had been standing there, leaning against it, for maybe fifteen seconds, sinking into a dark, dark place. I looked out the peephole—it was Paul. I tried to gain my composure and confidence by opening the door slowly.

"You forget something?"

Paul looked conflicted, maybe, or like he wanted to say... I watched him step towards me. I could see his hands reaching for my waist to pull me to him, our faces nearly together. I wasn’t sure what he was doing until my eyes closed as our lips touched.

::: --- :::

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Bronwen Welsh in proofreading and giving me insightful advice. She is an accomplished author in her own right and I appreciate her time more than I can say...

Don't be afraid to click the "Thumbs Up" icon for this short story if it's done anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so, and there are no prizes for most likes or payouts for that matter (I’d have bot’ed that bitch long ago if there was)). If you comment, I will reply, so let’s chat or not or whatever floats your noddle.

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me on the site (you’ll need an account) or via email ([email protected](link sends e-mail)) - I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated and valued. Thanks for reading...

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Comments

Romance...

RachelMnM's picture

Me too! Wonder if Paul knows what he's really getting into...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

"You forget something?"

giggles. nice. but something about "Daddy" being able to be a ghost bothers me. Someone with some pull in an intelligence agency or government? I dont think this is over just yet ...

DogSig.png

Guess...

RachelMnM's picture

He did forget something! Triumph for Elizabeth...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Continue Elizabeth's

Continue Elizabeth's adventures please. I really want to see how Janet is involved behind the scenes and hope Janet doesn't decide to substitute Elizabeth for Amber in her plans.

Seriously...

RachelMnM's picture

What is Janet's gig? Lot of pieces on the board...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Stuck...

RachelMnM's picture

Between a rock and a hard place... Elizabeth does have a few distractions though. :-)

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

And...

RachelMnM's picture

Arizona... :-)

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

sinking feeling

Monique S's picture

I can't help that sinking feeling, that "daddy" really is daddy and that Jacob is protecting him.

I hope Elisabeth will tell Janet all. I think Janet feels or knows more ...

Monique S

Bold...

RachelMnM's picture

Jacob working with FBI friend and knowing "Daddy's? Respected lawyer, brother helping his sister out, and likely picking up the tab for resources? Hmm...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Love That Insecurity

joannebarbarella's picture

This romance is one step forward. two steps back. Love it all the same.

Dance?

RachelMnM's picture

:-) Agree... Seems to go forward and then sideways. Encouraging end of the night...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Nothing...

RachelMnM's picture

Wrong taking it slow or the alcohol kicker... ;-)

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

Fist pump!

Elizabeth and Paul now have a budding romance. Will Elizabeth meet with Amber?
Will there be hell to pay with Janet ?

Karen

Janet, Janet, Janet...

RachelMnM's picture

She could be a problem...

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

A bit to eager

Jamie Lee's picture

Once they found Amber, and Elizabeth informed Janet, Janet became a bit too eager in knowing which hospital she was staying. Why? Why all the urgency? Something smells like it's been out in the sun too long.

Well well well, Elizabeth finally got the kiss she has been wanting. Where will it lead? Will they become a couple or will it have been because of the alcohol?

Others have feelings too.

Bad decisions...

RachelMnM's picture

Usuayl alcohol induced. Lol

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...

As others have said . . .

Emma Anne Tate's picture

. . .I’m enjoying the slow burn between Elizabeth and Paul. Hoping he turns out to be the good guy he appears to be. The way you did the extraction scene was also excellent: great suspense!

Emma

Extraction...

RachelMnM's picture

Elizabeth and Paul aren't James Bond types, so they weren't going to go in and get her, but I wanted something to put a little suspense into that...

Thank you for reading this through. Hugz!

XOXOXO

Rachel M. Moore...