Meeting Destiny (35 page)

I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Here I was basically telling him that I was completely off the deep end and he was making a joke. “I wouldn’t tell you any of this at all, except you told me that you wouldn’t remember any of this when we met in person, and it was my job to make you remember. Then when I met Rewsna, she told me the same thing. Believe me, I know exactly how crazy this all sounds, but in my dream you were so insistent, and you were the one with all the answers.”

“
Okay, let’s say I absolutely believe you. When do we get to work on that passion thing? If I really have been waiting for our paths to cross for better than four years, that seems like a
very
long time to wait on any scale.”

I could feel his hand slide from my shoulder to the small of my back, electric shocks raining from every direction. I closed my eyes to savor the moment, like he had set fire to my body again. I pressed my body to his and heard a quiet moan escape him. We fit perfectly together in one another’s embrace.

Max ever so gently, eased away from me. When I opened my eyes, he looked down into them with his amazing speckled eyes. Uncertain why he had moved from me, I asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

“
Lauren, no - you haven’t done anything wrong. I think we’d better slow down before we start doing everything right.” The restraint in his body was evident, with every muscle in his arm rigid and bulging.

I was naïve, more so than I wanted to be. I didn’t have skills in seduction. My only experience had been hearing stories from my girlfriends and watching hundreds of movies. I didn’t want this moment to end and definitely wanted the fire within me to continue to burn. I whispered, “It’s okay, I know this is our first night together, but I know it won’t be our last either. I really want to be with you.”

Max looked torn, “This is too soon. No matter how bad I want it to happen, I don’t want it to happen now.”

“
Max, I’ve been dreaming of you for so long. It’s hard to believe we’re really here. Honestly, I’ve never gotten this far in any of my dreams and am convinced that this may be the only situation ever where reality is way better than my imagination.”

“
Lauren, it isn’t the right time. I really need to get you home.” This time Max let go of me completely and rolled away.

Panic intertwined with rejection, in a near whisper but loud enough for him to hear, “Please come back,” I outstretched my arms to him. “If you don’t want me I won’t push it, but don’t go yet.”

“
Don’t want you? Are you deranged? Lauren, I’ve never wanted anything in my whole life the way I want to be with you right now.”

Max eased back over to me and slid his body to mine. His hands moved to my face, “You don’t get it. I love you. I’ll be with you until my last breath. Can you blame me for wanting to savor you a little?”

My thoughts were clear, and if he had any telepathic skills, he would have known I didn’t want simply to lie next to him. We lay together for a long time facing each other, neither of us wanting to break the spell we were both under. Without a word, Max rolled me over to my side and slid his arm under my head as if it were a pillow and wrapped his other arm around me. I drifted off to sleep knowing that I would never again be alone.

I woke up with a start at about eight p.m., I turned around to see Max, and to my surprise he was wide awake.

“
Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?”

“
I texted one of the off-going guys and asked him to cover me for a couple hours, but I do need to get to work.” The whole day felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from. The ride home with Max was euphoric, as we sat together sharing more easy conversation. Before I realized it, we were parked outside my house. Reluctantly we said our goodbyes for the evening, and I floated over the sidewalk and up to the front porch.

I looked at my watch, and it was just after nine on Friday. I walked over to Seth’s garage and peeked in the window - his car was gone. So much for checking in to see how he and Amanda were getting along.

I debated whether to go into my house or not. I grabbed my cell phone and decided to call Paul to see how his night was going.

Paul said, “Seth and Rachael went out to get your graduation present. I was thinking of going out for a coffee. Do you want to go with me?”

I definitely didn’t want to hang out with my parents on a Friday night. Who knew when Rachael or Seth would be back, and Max would be working all night. Coffee and conversation sounded pretty good right now. “Sure, if you don’t mind picking me up?”

Ten minutes later Paul’s car pulled up in front of my house. He told me about his day and helping his grandmother in the yard. He seemed to be paying an awful lot of attention to his rear view mirror as we drove.

I finally asked, “Is everything all right?”

“
I keep seeing a gray sedan, like we’re being followed.”

This didn’t make any sense: if he was now cooperating with the police, had given a full statement, provided an alibi, why would they be following him now? It couldn’t be that they didn’t believe him? I couldn’t help but be obvious when I angled myself so I could get a better view of the sedan behind us through the passenger side mirror. What possible reason could the police have for following him? He was out on bail. They could search him anytime they wanted.

Scenarios started playing through my head: a rogue detective who didn’t believe Paul’s statement, a rookie cop who was trying to make a name for himself, someone personally connected with the victims using his authority to influence the investigation. I’d seen all these scenarios on television and in movies, but something kept making me angle and re-angle the mirror to try to get a better look at the driver. As I was adjusting the angle, the car eased back, from about four car lengths back to a city block. I saw its turn signal before it disappeared around a corner.

“
Holy crap, Paul! Are you trying to make me a nervous wreck? The car just turned. We weren’t being followed.”

Paul made a right hand turn into an alley, driving to the back of the alley where there was a small parking lot big enough for maybe six cars. He looped around the lot so he was able to drive the car into a dark shadow and cut the lights. From fifteen feet we were nearly invisible, but we could see the lighted street clearly. “Sorry, Lauren, I just feel like…”

I cut him off, “Like you’re going stir crazy, like you’ve been watching too much TV? Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, you know - reacting to a tremendously stressful situation. I know this has been a hard week on you, and I don’t blame you a bit for going a little schitzo, but how long are we going to sit in this alley?”

“
If it was a cop he would have flashed his lights for me to pull over. But if for some reason,” he stopped in mid sentence. Slowly a gray sedan eased past the alley. The occupant was looking down the alley right in our direction – as soon as I was starting to believe he had found us his head swung abruptly to the left as he peered down a dark alley on the opposite side of the street. My heart leapt - The way it did only when Max was within a few yards of me, then began racing so fast it felt like it was going to pump clean out of my chest.

In a very calm authoritative voice, one I didn’t even know I was capable of, “When he clears the alleyway, slowly drive forward. Don’t turn your lights on until right before we’re on the street. Stay on the main street. See if you can get close enough to him to read his license plate.”

Paul nodded in agreement, but I could see the color had completely faded from his complexion. In my mind I called to my voice of reason and screamed, “Rewsna – what should we do?” To my frustration I heard nothing in return. I picked up my cell phone as we approached the mouth of the alleyway, the sedan nowhere to be seen. The entire street was empty except for a couple walking hand-in-hand toward us. I dialed Officer Johnson’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. I hung up without leaving a message. I concentrated as hard as I could and, in my mind, asked as clearly as I could, “Rewsna, what should we do?” Nothing, no advice, no whisper, no feeling at all that she was even following this turn of events.

“
I’m going to take you home.”

My heart was still racing, and it was moving so fast I was in danger of hyperventilating. I managed to stutter out, “No, we don’t know who this is. Go to the police station.” Paul turned in that direction, and when he made his left turn the same gray sedan was again behind us, but this time following very close. I grabbed my cell phone and tried Officer Johnson a second time, but it went directly to voicemail again.

The car began to overtake us on the left side, the driver rolled down his passenger side window and ordered, “Pull over, now!” He put a blue light on top of his car – the kind detectives use that are held on by magnets.

But every unmarked car I had ever seen had lights built into the car’s grill. When Paul began to pull the car over, I nearly came unglued, “No, go to the police station, now!”

“
I can’t, I’m out on bail – if a cop wants to pull me over and I don’t comply, I go straight back to jail.”

Paul pulled the car over on the nearly deserted street, the couple I had seen just a minute ago nowhere in sight. A man was refilling a metal newspaper box halfway down the street, but he had his back to us. Paul put the car in park and reached for the ignition, I reached across and put my hand over the keys. Quietly, but with authority in my voice, “Do not shut the car off, put it back in drive. Roll your window up so it’s only open far enough to talk through. Do not get out of the car, and do not shut your engine off until you see his ID.”

The policeman walked up to the driver’s side and motioned with his hand for Paul to roll the window down. In as polite a voice as I have ever heard Paul use, “I’m sorry Officer, could I see some identification?”

The policeman pointed at the gray sedan directly behind us with the single flashing blue light on top, in a condescending tone, “That son, is my identification, now roll your window down.”

Paul reached for the power window, but I grabbed his elbow and as quietly as possible warned, “A photo ID, Paul.”

Paul looked back at the policeman and nervously squeaked out, “I’m sorry sir, I’m not trying to be belligerent, but I would really like to see a photo identification.”

The policeman stood there for a few seconds staring through the nearly closed window. In an instant I saw him reach his left hand from behind his back. He had pulled the trigger twice before I even realized he was holding a gun. On sheer instinct I grabbed the gear shifter and yanked it into the drive position, reached my left foot over to the driver’s side and punched the gas. Smoke rolled from the tires as we were barreling down the street with me driving from the passenger side. I didn’t look at Paul but could hear a soft gurgling sound as he breathed. I didn’t look behind us to see if he was in pursuit. I fumbled for my phone and was able to dial 911.

“
911 Dispatch, what’s your emergency?”

“
My friend’s been shot - what should I do?”

“
What is your location, ma’am?”

For the first time I looked at Paul, as I was driving from the passenger side and balancing the cell on my ear. “I’m not sure, some guy said he was a cop and pulled out a gun and shot him. There’s blood everywhere!”

“
Ma’am, I need you to remain calm. Is he breathing?”

I could hear heavier gurgling as he struggled to take in air. “Yes, but it sounds like he has blood in his lungs or something.”

“
What’s your location?”

“
I don’t know, I’m driving. 23
^rd
Street, I think, I’m not sure.”

The dispatcher told me, “Ma’am, pull the car over at the next intersection and tell me where you are.”

I did as I was told, looking in all directions for any sign of the grey sedan, “I’m on the corner of 23
^rd
and King.”

“
Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“
Lauren, Lauren Davis…What should I do?”

“
Lauren, you need to stop the bleeding. Find where he was shot, use a jacket or a shirt and apply pressure to get the bleeding to stop.”

“
I can’t find where he was shot: there’s blood everywhere, it’s coming out of his mouth, it’s all over his neck, I can’t find the bullet hole!”