Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (35 page)

M
y beautiful roses found a place in an antique vase on my bedroom dresser. Before their delicate petals wilted, I pressed them in a favorite book. Each night before bed I read Indigo's note, then slid it back under my pillow; I knew the words by heart, but savored them just the same. All the while, I fought an internal battle. Could I handle the risk – or should I close the door forever? Maybe I just wasn't cut out for love.

While struggling with my demons, I continued to work at AMA on weekends, while I excelled at the academy. I was chosen to be the leader of my squad, which meant I had to ensure that everyone was squared away with their uniforms and other incidentals, and that they were present and accounted for at all times. I also had the responsibility of making sure everyone completed their tasks properly. The wheels were in motion. I seemed to be on the right track and things were looking fantastic ... academy-wise.

Then, without warning, my new world in the making, began to fall apart. One Saturday evening, after I'd left my shift, there was a break-in at AMA. When I heard the news I was astonished.

The security in that place was so tight, I couldn't believe anyone would have the nerve, or be dumb enough to try it. But someone did, managing to remain under the radar. The thief was slick: dressed in black, face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. And smart. The alarm system had been successfully disabled. Someone had done their homework.

We discussed the case in class, learning the camera had captured the perpetrator's image, still the police weren't able to make an ID. The videos were grainy, but with the help of the lab, might be enough to pin the crime on someone, if they had any leads. The story was all over the papers, and apparently, he or she had made quite a haul.

The following weekend at work, I stared at the newly replaced jewelry cabinets. A major aspect of my life, I had a loyalty to AMA. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, analyzing at the camera lens embedded into the corner, shaking my head. I felt personally violated. Refocusing, my gaze washed over the sparkling new glass counters, and I noticed the empty velvet niche. Had the necklace I loved been sold, or had it been part of the heist? How dare they! My stomach churned.

A few weekends later, another high-class store was burglarized further uptown, and the pattern appeared to be the same. Money was never taken. Valuable electronics weren't touched. All the thief seemed to be interested in was gold, gemstones and diamonds. The cameras had captured the profile, and back of the thief's head, but the face remained well disguised by the brim of a hat. Still, authorities were able to match the videos and the consensus was the same individual had committed both crimes.

We had a serial burglar roaming the city. Security was beefed up. Besides being headline news, the case became the topic of lectures at the academy, where all hell broke loose after a third break-in occurred in another upscale department store.

Not long after, I was called into the office of my superior. Two NYPD officers stood at attention beside the door. The captain scrutinized me, then dropped the bomb. "Ms. Delarosa, we seem to have a problem."

My heart sank. "What's that, sir?" While my legs trembled, I managed to maintain an alert stance. "I've been on time, been keeping my squad intact." My mind raced, attempting to grasp exactly what I'd done wrong.

"It's come to our attention," his voice was gruff, "that you're a prime suspect in the recent string of burglaries." His eyes traveled to the officers and back. Shock ebbed from his face, only to be replaced by disappointment.

"But. What? Oh my God. I would never ..." Every ounce of blood drained into my feet, which felt like they were filled with lead. "Am I going to be fired?"

"Not at this time, but we'll be keeping a watchful eye on you, until you are hopefully cleared and not charged. These officers are going to escort you to the station."

"I'm being arrested?" My entire being tensed. Pooled blood rushed to my face, throbbed in my head.

"I didn't say that." The intensity in his brown eyes softened, but only slightly. "You're being taken in for questioning."

"I can't believe this!" Outraged, I fought to control my reaction. The worst thing I could do would be to fly off the handle with those controlling my future.

"Take it easy, Delarosa. You're not under arrest yet."

"Yet?" About to flare, I gritted my teeth as the captain showed me to the door.

The officers escorted me to a patrol car and transported me to the station where I was interrogated by two detectives who handed me composite drawings created from the video clips. The pictures were of someone with long dark hair. The suspect seemed to be close to my stature, with a similar profile, and wore a floppy hat I'd never include in my wardrobe.

"I'm sorry, detective," knowing my rights I protested, "but this could be anyone. The features are indistinguishable. The photos are blurred and they're murky. Skin color is undeterminable, as are the eyes. I don't understand why I'm being accused, and I resent being– "

"This isn't all we have, Ms. Delarosa," raising a hand, and his voice, the stocky man cut me right off. "Is there something you want to tell us, or do you want us to continue? We can make this easy, or we can make it difficult."

"This is ridiculous." Of course my mouth hung open like a stretched out rubber band ... I was powerless. My lips barely moved. "I have nothing to hide, and nothing to say other than you have the wrong person."

"We have a witness who swears to have seen you wearing one of the stolen items."

"What?" I almost fell off the chair. My heart thundered in my chest. My life was on the doorstep of catastrophe. I fought to organize my thoughts.

"A gold necklace. The description matches an expensive piece of jewelry taken from AMA, the store where you work. Sound familiar to you?"

The second detective, young and wiry, addressed the first. "Makes sense to me. She knows the system, the layout." He acted as if I wasn't sitting right in front of him! Condemning me for a crime I hadn't committed. Treating me as worthless, he sized me up, shook his head and let out a chuckle sounding more like a snarl. His demeanor made me long to shrink out of my uniform, or crawl beneath his desk, a more plausible alternative. I was being framed, possibly kicked out of the academy, and thanks to some so-called witness, might be losing my job, too.

I burst into tears, then I called Pete. From his end of the phone he vouched for me, swearing I'd been with him every Saturday night. His voice was so harsh, I heard it through the receiver the detective held an inch from his ear.

* * *

"Pete. It's her." I told my
plain clothes
best male friend as he took me home. I was in bad shape. My legs were so weak, he half carried me up the stairs and into my apartment.

"It's her? You mean Vanessa?"

"Yes, Pete. It has to be her. Who else would set me up?"

"But you and Indigo broke up. What reason does she have to stalk you?"

"She hates me. Isn't that reason enough? We've got to catch her in the act." My eyes narrowed, the wheels in my jumbled brain turning. "Beat her at her own game. She's got the stuff, Pete. I know it in my heart. If we can pin it on her, I'm vindicated."

While we stood in the kitchen, Pete scrubbed his chin. "Okay. But we've got to think this through. We need to put a tail on her. Someone we can trust."

I lifted a brow. "I'm free every night. Who better?" My head filled with scenarios.

"Ah ah, Kit Kat. I'm not sure about this. If anyone found out, it could land you in more hot water, maybe even prison. There are laws protecting witnesses."

"She's not a witness! She's a liar!" I backed against the wall, burying my face in my hands.

Pete's arms went around me. "Hang in there, Jewel. I'll do what I can."

For the rest of the day I sat stiff in a chair like a chunk of ice, which is how Emma found me when she returned from work. With a horrified look on her face she listened to my story, angered, then bunched an afghan up to my neck. Together we sat for hours, nursing chamomile tea and my nerves.

Pete called that night. He'd been able to obtain Vanessa's address, and we learned she was living in a seedy part of the city. The next evening, armed with sandwiches and lattes, we configured our stakeout.

"Why would an heiress live here, Pete?" I said, considering she might have rented the apartment as a cover up, moseying back to Park Avenue after each crime.

"You've got me, Kit Kat. Maybe she leads a double life. Maybe she's looking for excitement. Maybe she's just a lunatic."

Scanning the area, I commented, "I could think of a million other places to find excitement. Look at the overflowing dumpsters. The dog do on the sidewalk. The bars on some of the windows."

Hidden in shadows, Pete and I hung out across the street from the rundown apartment, spending most of the time tucked into an alley. It was Pete's night off. A steady breeze brought a chill to the night. While I held down the fort, Pete walked to a nearby deli and returned with hot coffee. We surveyed the front door until three a.m., but saw no sign of Vanessa either entering or leaving.

"Let's hit the road, Jewel. I doubt she's gonna show." Pete blew warmth into his hands.

My frustration escalated. "If she's not planning a robbery tonight, she's probably not here," I complained. "I'm not so sure this building is her permanent residency. This is bugging the hell out of me. I can't figure her out."

"I'd tend to agree with you, but the source of this info is reliable."

Before leaving our stakeout, Pete said he'd be pulling a nightshift the following week, so I'd be on my own. "I hate leaving you alone, Jewel," he said. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I can handle it, Pete."

His arms were crossed. I watched a scowl grow on his face. "Remember, I'm just a phone call away." He drew in air through his nose, releasing two vapory streams like a snorting bull. "Make sure you keep your cell phone on."

"I will." My face was rigid, not only from the cold.

"You're unarmed and emotionally involved. Keep your head on straight." Pete looked like he was taking a deep drag on a cigarette, this time, exhaling dissatisfaction through his pursed lips. "Don't take any risks."

"I won't," I promised, but knew inside, I'd do whatever was necessary to beat Vanessa at her own sick game.

D
uring the first few nights of surveillance others came and went, but Vanessa didn't show her face. I did, however, see someone moving around inside her apartment. With bright lights and no window shades, living on the eighth floor didn't ensure total privacy. Still, from the distance, I couldn't be sure the wavering shadow was even hers. I made a mental note to borrow a pair of binoculars from Casey, the bird watcher.

Filled with garbage bags and cartons, along with seclusion, the alley offered a distinct odor. On more than one occasion, my stomach rose to my throat. Sitting lightly on the cleanest piece of cardboard I could find, my mind flew in multiple directions. I had to reel it in so I could concentrate. While I observed, through anxiety and frustration, Indigo was always with me. I had so much time to think, so many regrets. I should have been more understanding. Instead of stomping off, I should have comforted him.
Back up, Jewel, you tried.

I was bored. I was angry. I was tired. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Waiting for Vanessa's next move was agony, and when she didn't show, I was so discouraged I felt like taking the next flight out of the country. I didn't know how much more I could take. Each night I'd wait for hours, hoping, and when she didn't show, I'd slip my makeshift seat into the safest place I could find ... between the wall and a rusting drainpipe clipped to its side ... so it would be ready for the next watch.

The robberies had all occurred on Saturdays, close to midnight, so the perpetrator had earned the name of the midnight thief. Leaving nothing up to chance, I decided to watch the place on a daily basis, making bicycle drive-bys, staked out in the alley every night.

The sleep I was able to find was fitful. On probation at work, under surveillance at the academy, I felt like an outsider, not to mention a loser. Stress showed on my face, and I lost weight. Emma worried, pleading with me to rest for a while with my family in Poughkeepsie, and leave solving crimes to the authorities. "I'm the authorities," I told her with a hug. "Besides, my parents have no clue as to what's happening." I scrunched the side of my mouth, uncertain but determined.

For two weeks I holed up, waiting, hoping. Feeling like I was wasting my time and optimism, I started drifting into a state of desperation. The weather was turning, and the news predicted rainstorms and falling temperatures for the weekend. I'd have to pull myself together so I'd be alert, thinking, "If this doesn't end soon, I'm gonna lose my mind!"

Between her job and wedding plans, Emma focused on me, begging me not to go out that particular Saturday night. First she said she had a bad feeling. Then she offered to accompany me, but there was no way I was getting the soon-to-be-bride mixed up in any legal issues ... or danger.

"Grandma," I whispered as I pulled a black knit cap over my head, zipped my insulated sweatshirt to my neck, slipped on gloves and unhitched my bicycle from the lobby's bike rack. "Please have my back. I'm really scared, Gram, but it's something I have to do. Don't be mad at me. I have to clear my name. My entire life depends upon it."

The sudden thought occurred to me, and I ran back up the stairs.

"You're not going?" Emma looked relieved when I burst into the apartment.

"I forgot something," I panted as I rushed into my room and pulled open my dresser drawer. I grabbed my cell phone and turned it on. "You're coming with me," I whispered to Indigo. He'd always made me feel safe, and at the moment, I needed him more than ever.

As I headed back down the stairs, I thought of my family, longing to see them again. I couldn't burden them with my problems, so they had no clue as to what was going on. Besides, they would have locked me up had they known what I was about to take on. Only Emma and Pete personally knew of my plight, and my plan.

I put my cell on vibrate and stuck it into my pocket. I'd need it to photograph Vanessa in the act. As I clunked through the lobby door, bumping the wheels of my bike down the stairs, the paralyzing thought struck me. If a patrol car passed, for certain I'd be arrested. Dressed all in black, my face half hidden, I looked every inch a thief in the night. And with what they had on me, I'd be charged for sure. I needed to be careful, staying on back streets.

Tonight was the night. I could feel it in my bones, along with the chilling wind as I rode through lightly trafficked sections of the city. Halloween decorations hung on doors, jack o'lanterns sat on porches. I thought of how Teresa would be trick or treating in a few weeks; Mom setting dinner on the table; the warmth of the living room fireplace, and my stomach contorted. Where did I go wrong? Was I serving this sentence simply because I fell in love?

A cold drizzle pecked at my face, and I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as far as the fabric would stretch. All that was visible were my cheeks and mouth as I hunkered, protected by the alley. The front door of Vanessa's apartment, and the dingy windows, were the objects of my undivided attention.  Of course she'd hang a witch and black cats in her windows. I wondered if she'd come flying out on her broomstick. Then again, maybe Elizabeth had it tonight.

The lights were on, which I felt was a good sign, and it became even more encouraging when I detected movement. My eyes clung to the eighth floor, and what had to be Vanessa's floundering silhouette.

Music blared from passing cars, a few residents walked dogs, but as far as I could tell, no eyes breached my cover. "Let's go, bitch," became my battle cry, and I repeated the phrase again and again. The day was right, and so was the time: thirty-five minutes before midnight, and there hadn't been another burglary since the last which had taken place several weeks ago.

I crouched, frozen to the bone, my neck stretched and aching. The wind made its way through my lightweight gloves as I shielded my face from what had evolved into pelting rain.

A film of gloss covered the road, which I assumed was ice, and from beneath the corner streetlight, I watched its erratic fall. Leave it to you Vanessa, to pick a night like this, flashed through my head as the front door of her apartment building flew open, inched closed. She emerged, dressed much like me. My breath quickened. I willed my limbs to find peace.

I had no idea Vanessa traveled by bicycle. Of course, automobiles had license plates and identifiable features, were traceable, but city streets hosted thousands of bikes, easy to conceal, to flee off road. As she tore off past me, it appeared she rode proficiently.
So, she's assuming my entire persona while she turns me into a two-bit thief?
Two-bit? The amount of jewelry she'd lifted was rising to a charge of grand larceny.

I didn't move a muscle until the distance between us felt safe, then I tracked her. She rode in the right lane, where an intermittent flow of traffic trickled by. Now and then her wheels hit puddles, which I avoided. We appeared to be heading uptown, in the direction of my neighborhood. What, was she going to rob
me
next?

Possibly feeling the heat of headline news, she altered her course, selecting a quiet area in which to carry out her crime. I followed easily down side streets, but my heart rate grew turbulent when we approached corners, where I'd pause, holding my breath, concerned she might have noticed me and was lying in wait, concerned if I didn't accelerate, I'd lose her. We seemed to be riding in circles then squares, or was it my imagination? Was she carrying a weapon? Did she have more on her mind than framing me? I wasn't putting anything past Vanessa. She was evil, and she was out to get me.

Eyes straining, ears acute, I never let her out of my sight, and when I heard her tires crunch grit, hitting my brakes I coasted. In the distance, where the main road intersected ours, headlights occasionally swept through mist, but the street we were on was deserted.

With Vanessa secured in my sight, I scanned the area, attempting to fix the location, planning my victory, fearing my demise. We ventured into an industrial graveyard, and a patchwork of structures fell to the wayside as we sped past warehouses, garages, small shops caged with bars. There was no moon, no stars in the city, especially on a night like this. With the scarcity of streetlights, illumination was minimal, and accumulating fog challenged visibility.

I had been bullied into a scene from a horror movie. With the exception of Vanessa, not another soul existed in my nightmare. I corrected my assumption; Vanessa had no soul. I longed to be home, or accompanied by Pete, better yet, be safe in Indigo's arms. Any place but this hellhole. Pitched through the air, the only sound other than the rumble of thunder came from the lungs of a dog howling in the distance. Soaked and chilled, I felt his anguish.

My adversary appeared to be heading toward a storefront office, where a single light wafted through the window and its painted sign: Diamonds – Gold – Bought – Sold. The dreary building was backed into the shadows, sandwiched between two others.

I probably followed closer than I should have, but anxiety bordered panic: slowing my heart, my pedaling feet, was nearly impossible. Governing my breathing I paused, wide-eyed as Vanessa hopped off her bike, pushed it into the alley beside the brick wall where water coursed through a gutter.

Should I forge into the unknown? Should I hold out a moment longer? Forced to make a split second decision, my stomach rose to my throat. My straining stare pulsed with the same blood that pounded my temples.

I focused so intently, my vision grew dim; misty air clung to my face making matters worse. While inhaling dampness, my eyes blinked away shuddering circles and black static snow, created by the nerves in my eyes.

Before leaving home, I'd strapped on a wristwatch, and I timed her. She'd been gone for less than two minutes. I'd give her sixty seconds more, and then I'd head down the alley in search of her. Although I yearned to catch her in the act, I couldn't risk her disappearance, for I knew there would never be a night like this again. No such luck. But what kind of luck was this? I was cuffing her, reading her rights, counting my chickens before they hatched.

While I debated, she emerged, a bag slung over her shoulder. Something broke from the shadows, and it was beside her; two slithering phantoms. What the hell? The figures merged, divided, reattached, unbraided.

My eyes followed the burning tip of a cigarette. An illusion or accomplice! I was so not prepared for this. But I'd gone this far; there was no turning back now. I quickly pounded Pete's number, but my trembling fingers misdialed. On my second attempt, the call immediately went to voicemail. As I left him a breathless message: "Where are you Pete? Here's where I am ... Something's going down," my mind screamed, "It's not going to be me."

Vanessa's double flicked the cigarette and began to shrink, vaporizing into one of the cloud formations floating around us. Unable to discern the direction of her partner's retreat, Vanessa's outline claimed my sole attention. Wiping rain from eyes, panic from limbs, I watched her slide along the wall, past the storefront, to a door on the opposite side of the building. Starting my count, I held my breath. I'd give her a few seconds, then make my move.

After calling Pete, I'd held onto my phone. Before sliding it into my pocket, I started snapping pictures, hoping the camera would capture her in dim light. I glimpsed the steady fall of rain in the glow of the corner streetlight, but saw no trace of Vanessa's companion. The thought of someone sneaking up behind me was chilling, and I fought the urge to revolve in circles, protecting my own back. What had I gotten myself into? Mine could be the next body found lying face down in an alley. This was even worse than being the discarded candy wrapper, ground to shreds beneath the heels of the detectives' shoes. This was
life-threatening ... this was reality ... and it was suddenly sinking in.

I began to fashion my own fate: I hoped it wasn't Pete who found me. Back up, Jewel. If there's a breath left in my lungs, God, please let Pete find me, but if I'm stiff and bloodless ... I couldn't put him through that. Vanessa's sudden movement curtailed my runaway imagination.

Crouching, she pulled something from her pocket and went to work on the lock. The realization hit me. Her accomplice disabled the alarms, while she gained entry. Holy shit. Where had she learned this stuff? Certainly not in prep school.

I can't let her break in, mingled with the other reasoning rounding like a halo inside my head. And I can't let her get away. My hiding place was only a few yards away, behind the cover of a utility pole. Angling my bike, I sucked in my breath, trying to make myself invisible.

I prayed Pete would get my message soon, and magically appear. I considered the size of her stocky accomplice. How was I going to handle both of them?

"One, two, three. Are you ready Grandma?" My cross lay buried beneath my clothing, so I patted my neck where I felt the heirloom pressed to my skin. I mounted my bike, devising my strategy. What strategy? I carried no weapon; my saddlebag contained only a pair of handcuffs. What had I been thinking?

My mind went into overdrive. I'd do a combination drive-by, tripping the guy, and tackling Vanessa, knocking them cold with one swift blow. I knew enough hand to hand to take care of two creeps at once.  The only problem was, I had no idea of the location of her partner. Switch to plan B, which was ... pure animal instinct.

Then my mind slipped into reverse. Creep? Vanessa? Holy shit. Could it be the rude guy who she'd been with that night at The Prestige? After the run-in we'd had, I'd gotten a taste of his strength. It wouldn't be like in the club. I wasn't wearing heels, and I wasn't bombed. Still, a shudder hit my legs first, then targeted the rest of my body.