My Kind Of Crazy (15 page)

I try to get my hands to stop shaking as I turn on the cold
water and pull the showerhead out of its cradle. As soon as the water hits her
bare flesh, Anastasia moans and tries to get away. She vomits at the front of
the tub, and I try not to let my own dinner come up with hers. It’s not exactly
glamorous, and even though she’s in nothing but her underwear, sex with
Anastasia is as far from my mind as it is from a nun’s.

“Alright, some water and then you can crash. But we’re going
to see the Chief of police tomorrow morning. If you’re right about this, then
Henry Cooper is your father’s killer and your kidnapper.” She’s too far gone to
hear my words, and I hose her hair off before I towel her dry. I don’t have to
help her slip out of her underwear and bra, but I do have to peel her off me
and shove her under the covers.

“I have to get the water.” I try to sound stern, but she
laughs at me and rolls onto her side. I make sure to pour the rest of the vodka
down the drain and get her a large glass of water. By the time I return, her
breathing is heavy, and I can tell that she’s passed out. For the rest of that
night,  I sit up in bed and read the rest of my book, checking on her
occasionally to make sure that she’s still alive.

“Please, it hurts, just turn off the damn TV!” I put my
hands over my ears to stifle the noise, but it’s not helping as much as I would
prefer. A glass of water appears in front of me with two pills, and I down them
without even asking what they are. Jonah has a strange look on his face as he
starts popping bread into the toaster.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I sincerely hope
I didn’t sleep with him, although I vaguely remember throwing myself at him
naked.

“I remember cold water, nudity, and-” I stop when it finally
comes rushing back to me. He notices the moment I remember our discussion on
the couch, well, my confession really. My ears begin to ring, and my face
flushes with my humiliation, but he doesn’t say a word to alleviate it or make
it worse.

The toast pops up, and butter is slathered onto it, then he
puts peach jam all over it, and sets the plate in front of me gently. My
stomach flip flops and practically turns itself inside out just at the smell,
and I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep even a piece of toast down. But
when I look up at Jonah’s stern look, I know that I’m not going to get away
with not eating breakfast this morning.

“After you’re finished that, we’ll talk.” He uncrosses his
arms and starts making himself a cup of coffee and some eggs. I choke down my
toast in a few bites and wash it all down with some water. Then I stumble my
way to the couch and curl up in a ball with a pillow under my head. It’s been a
few years since I’ve drank that much, and my body is no longer used to it.

True to his word, Jonah sits down beside me on the leather
couch and puts a hand between my shoulder blades. I feel the tension starting
to melt away as he methodically moves his knuckles over my flesh in a circular
motion. My breathing starts to deepen as sleep starts to set in, and he lets me
sleep the rest of it off until nine or so.

Then I’m woken up with a gentle shake and another glass of
water shoved into my face. With the orders that I must drink the entire glass,
Jonah helps me sit up and props me against the pillows. I take a hesitant sip,
and let the liquid slide down my dry throat. The headache has subsided to a
gentle pulse right between my eyes.

“We need to talk now.” Instead of sitting beside me, he sits
down on the ottoman in front of me with his hands on his knees.

“Talk about what?” I decide that playing dumb might be my
best option at this point. What I said last night was stupid, and I should have
never mentioned it to him. I’m pretty sure that the man who kidnapped me was
Henry Cooper, but if I’m wrong, I could embarrass his entire family.
What if
he does to his child what he did to you?
My subconscious whispers to me.

“Anastasia,” I hate the way he says my name as if I’m some
sort of hurt animal in need of consoling. The hair on the back of my neck
stands on end as I try to keep my emotions in check. Jonah isn’t the one who
hurt me.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a different person, Jonah. I’m
the same girl you knew yesterday. What happened to me six years ago made me
different, but I’ve moved on.” It’s a lie. I’ve been able to bury the emotions
for a long time with immersing myself in work, and now my father’s death, but
since I stopped making myself into what I was called six years ago, I haven’t
slept with anyone. Thinking about a relationship frightens me. I hate the word.

“I know you’re no different than yesterday, but Henry Cooper
deserves to pay for what he did.” I’m staring at his hands that have gone from
flat to fists in a matter of a few seconds. No one, but Benjamin and Henry
Cooper know what happened to me that night, and I don’t think I could stomach
admitting it to the cops. Besides, there’s no evidence now for me to prove my
case.

“It was a long time ago.” I’m about to tell him to just let
it go, but Jonah’s eyes changed and grow dark right before me. Except I know
that it’s not Tom looking at me through Jonah’s eyes, it’s still him. It’s the
part of him that he likes to keep hidden away from everyone else. Sometimes I
forget I’m dealing with a person who could potentially be dangerous.

“I don’t care if it happened fifty years ago. He has to pay
for his actions, and you might not be the only girl who he hurt. You said he
was looking for a tape?” Wow, did I tell him that? I guess I did last night.
The chilling part is he could be right, and by me keeping mum about the entire
thing I might be inadvertently allowing that loser to do to other women what he
did to me.

“You’re right. But maybe I should just tell the police about
the fact that he had the same eyes.” Jonah’s face softens as he reaches out a
hand to touch my cheek, and I involuntarily lean into his touch. For just a
second I take the comfort that is offered, and then I move away from his hand
and clutch the pillow to my chest as if that will help me.

“Do what you think is right. I’ll be there during and
afterwards. I won’t leave you alone.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and in
that moment I know I could love Jonah Quinton. He’s the rock I never trusted
anyone else to be, and somehow he’s slipped right under my defenses and made
himself a home in my heart.

I can only hope that he doesn’t tear it to shreds after this
moment.

“Okay,” I tell him trustingly. There’s no going back from
this moment. I think we both know that something monumental happened last
night, and our friendship has the potential to blossom into something else.

Jonah’s hand finally falls from my shoulder to my upper arm
before he lets it rest back on his knee. He looks conflicted, but doesn’t tell
me what it’s about. Now that we’ve had the discussion he wanted, I believe he’s
unsure of where to go from here. So pick up his cellphone off the coffee table
and search on the internet for the precinct’s phone number. Then I make one of
the most important phone calls of my life before I’ve even showered or completely
gotten rid of my hangover.

“Chief Roberts’ extension please.” I tell the woman when she
picks up on the second ring. I’m asked for my name and provide it to her.

“Just a moment,” She tells me as I hear her dialing the
extension and patching me through. It rings three times, and I’ve almost lost
my nerve by the third ring. Then he picks up with a rough sounding voice, and I
wonder if I wasn’t the only person who had a little too much to drink last
night.

“It’s Anastasia D’Salvatore,” I tell him and wait a few
seconds for that to sink in. “I have some information for you that I think is
pertinent to my father’s murder case.”

“Well shit, come in as soon as you can!” He sounds a little
exasperated and excited at the same time, and Jonah’s hand slips onto my knee.
Now that he knows I won’t flinch from him when he touches me, it seems he can’t
get enough of the action.

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Why so long?” I hold my breath for a few seconds until he
finally gets my drift. “Oh, I see. Uh, an hour it is.” We say our goodbyes and
hang up.

Jonah runs a hand through his dark hair and his eyes remain
the stormy blue they were when we first met. We’re both silent as I twist the
phone around and around in my fingers until he finally takes it from my grasp
gently and holds his hand out to me. There seems to be a general consensus that
neither one of us will speak about what I’m going to do in an hour.

I release his hand when I get to my door, and it immediately
goes up to my upper arm. “You’re doing the right thing,” he tells me softly
before he lets go of me and heads for his own room. I smell a little, and I
need to brush my teeth again, so I quickly slip into my room to shower.

Now that I have an option of clothes to wear, I pick out a
long sleeved, black shirt with a U neckline and a pair of black jeans. Today
doesn’t feel like much of a color day. My shower is brief but scalding, and I
hear Jonah jump into his own as I turn off the water. We’re both ready
physically to head out, but I can’t bring myself to touch the door knob that
opens the front, suite door.

Jonah reaches his hand out and twists it open for me, and
then he holds an umbrella over me as we descend the stairs and head for the
rental car. Something in him seems to have changed, and I can’t tell if I like
the preferential treatment or not. I mean, being escorted to a car with an
umbrella over me is nice, but do I really want him to treat me this way for the
rest of- I stop that thought cold. Where was I going with that?

I decide not to look into it. Instead, I give Jonah a warm
thank you and sit down in the passenger seat. My brain seems to be on overdrive
lately, and I really just wish I could be back in the city, in my apartment. I
should have gotten a cat. Then I would have something to return to. But I’ve
already started the process of getting the place rented out.

Our trip to the police station is not near far enough or
long enough for me to be calm by the time we pull up to the doors. The rain is
coming down in sheets now in front of us, and lightning is lighting up the
morning sky. I feel thunder rumble through my chest, and wonder if this is a bad
omen. My stomach clenches with nerves and fears as Jonah comes around the car,
opens up my door, and proceeds to attempt to protect me from the rain coming
down. It’s no use. It’s blowing sideways, and I’m pretty wet by the time we get
to the doors. As soon as it opens up, the receptionist is standing up from her
desk.

“Oh! It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and Chief didn’t
tell me anyone was coming by! Let me go get you some towels before you sit, you
look miserable.” I’m about to open my mouth and tell her that it’s not the rain
that is making me miserable, but I decide against it. My father’s case is still
open, and everyone is a suspect in my eyes. Well, except for the Chief of
Police and Jonah Quinton. I’m pretty sure he didn’t kill my father.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that if he had not been in that
cabin he would be dead right now.

The middle-aged woman returns with two towels in hand that
are a little worse for the wear, but I accept it graciously. I’m wringing out
my platinum hair when the Chief finally comes out to greet us, and Johan’s hair
is sticking up at all different angles because he toweled his hair off as he would
after a shower. It makes him look as though he’s ready for a romp between the
sheets, or a good snuggle fest on the couch. I try to steer my thoughts away
from that route.

“Will you wait out here?” I ask him quietly. He looks upset
by my request, but I don’t want to have to relive the details of my rape six
years ago in front of a guy I might sleep with. I don’t want him to think about
that if we get that far.

“I will, but Anastasia-” He grabs my arm before I can get
away, and leans down so that our noses are touching. For a moment,  we both
breathe each other in. It’s one of the most intimate times of my life, and I’ve
had sex hundreds of times already. This is something more. “You’ll come get me
if you need me.” It’s not a question or a request, but a demand. I nod anyway.

The Chief clears his throat uncomfortably, and Jonah lets me
go reluctantly. I try not to feel closed in by the gray, brick walls as we head
back to the Chief’s office. And I try not to let the sound of my shoes clinking
on the gray tile flooring to make me feel loud and obnoxious. Despite the
dreary look of the place heading back, Chief Robertson’s office is actually
pretty cozy. He has pictures of his small family hanging on the walls of all
sorts of monumental events in his kid’s lives. My favorite is the one with him
holding up a three or four year old boy with a baseball glove on and a ball in
his hand.

“What’s his name?” I ask him before I sit down, studying the
pictures.

“Michael, but my wife calls him Mickey. I’m trying to get
her out of it though.” I wrinkle my nose and smile at the same time while I
sit.

“I like Mickey, it’ll set him apart.” The Chief looks like
that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to call his son Mickey, but I won’t tell him
how important it is for his son to get used to being set apart. His father’s Chief
of Police.

“So, do I have to arrest Quinton yet?” He has one eyebrow
quirked as he looks down at some paperwork on his desk, and I hear the
amusement in his tone.

“No, not yet. I’ll let you know if it comes to that.” I feel
a smile tugging at my own lips and think to myself,
what the hell
, and
let it out.

“Good, good.” He pulls out a tape recorder, and I feel my
skin grow chilled at the sight of it. This reminds me of after my kidnapping.
“Now I want you to tell me how you came about this information and what it is.
So shoot.” I wince at the terminology, and he shrugs once in apology.

“I was at Mrs. Hash’s party yesterday.” I begin, and he
holds up his hand.

“So was I.” I look at him imploringly, and he waits for me
to go on. I don’t want to be interrupted while I’m telling this story because I
might chicken out halfway through.

“Jonah and I were sitting at the picnic table when I saw
him. I remember his eyes.” He stops me again.

“You saw the man who kidnapped you?” I feel like I’m being
prompted.

“Yes, I saw the man who kidnapped me. I remember the build
of him and his eyes. They were hazel with brown coming out from the center, and
encircled in a darker brown. They’re original eyes, or they seemed that way at
the time. Anyway, Henry Cooper is the man who took me into that small cabin in
the woods and asked for the whereabouts of a tape. I left abruptly from the
party after having seen him.”

The Chief is scribbling on a piece of paper, as well. I
wonder why he would write down what I’m saying, and then I realize that he’s
writing down how I’m appearing in this moment. I really have sweat on my brow?
I wipe it away quickly and try to look a little sheepish for reading his
writing.