Detective and Me

Chapter 4

I am rushing through my closet, hastily searching for an appropriate outfit. What do you wear on your trip to the police department? After a total of 5 minutes of turning my closet upside down, I settle for black pants and a simple white t-shirt. I quickly change and tie my long, light brown hair in a high ponytail. I am highly aware of his presence in my living room. I search for him as soon as I leave my bedroom. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he stands near the window and looks out. Even though our apartment is large, his height and stature give the impression that it is cramped. I can't resist giving him my full attention. He is tall, powerful, and flawlessly built. He is perfectly built, tall, and muscular. His taut muscles are stretching his navy blue suit jacket. There's no doubt that he has a cop's body. I shake my head to banish all the unwelcome thoughts. Thoughts that have no business appear in my brain and clear my throat, making him turn. He looks at me. His eyes slowly travel up and down my figure, taking in my appearance. Suddenly, I feel highly aware of my body. My breathing turns faster under his gaze, and I fight the urge to squirm. Slowly, he brings his eyes to mine and asks, "You ready, ma'am?" I nod, trying to calm myself. "It's Ava, Ava Collins. You don't need to call me ma'am." His lips tug up, and he steps forward. "Whatever you prefer. Are you ready to go, Ava?" I raise my eyebrows. "What?" he asks. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?." Now it's his turn to raise eyebrows. "You want to know my name?" "Yeah, you've got a name, right??" He lets out a chuckle. Does he find me amusing? "Yes, I've got a name. It's Camden, Camden Martin." Camden Martin... His name sounds like one of those book boyfriends I read about. His name is so...him. I am telling you, he jumped straight out of my romance novels. "So," he said, holding out his hand. "If you are done with your interrogation, are we good to go?" I put my small hand in his large one, and he instantly threads his fingers with mine. The action is odd but comforting. The entire ride is filled with awkward silence. This is only increasing my anxiety. The closer we get to the precinct, the more anxious I get. And it doesn't help that our stop is just two blocks from my workplace, where Miya or Darla can easily spot me. They will not be happy about me going alone anywhere near a police station. They are going to attack me with their questions. The tension in the air increases. He might also sense it because he broke the silence. "So, Ava, what do you do for a living?" I am kind of taken aback by his question. I wasn't expecting him to ask me something so mundane or anything outside his professional boundaries. But I quickly get a hold of myself and reply," I work in a diner; it's recently opened. It's only a few blocks away from your precinct." "Really? ..What's the name?" "It's called "The Twin's Kitchen." "Ahh, your roommates are the owners," he states. "Yup!" I know what he is doing—engaging me in a conversation to ease my nerves—and I admit, this is working. "I have seen it in passing. I will stop by sometime." "Yeah, you should. The food is delicious, and the staff is amazing, including me." He hums, "I will come then, just to inspect the hospitality of the staff." He offers me a warm smile, which I return. The nerves are long forgotten. Our small talk goes on till we reach the Precinct, and by the end of our conversations, I have learned two things about him: first, he is originally from Russia, and second, he lives with his mother in Carnegie Hill. Yeah, an expensive area and all that, which tells me that he has to be a millionaire. Because there is no way anyone with the average income of a cop can live in Carnegie Hill, I am about to ask him how he can afford to live there, but then he says, "We are here." One look at the office of the Brooklyn Police Department, and those nerves return with full force. What was I going to ask him again? ... I can't remember. The realization that I am going to stand amidst the criminals has me jittering. I have never been to a police station before, let alone to identify a criminal who held my life in his hands less than 24 hours ago. Detective Martin's hand comes to my shoulder, and I turn my head to look at him. He gives me an encouraging smile. "You ready?" Yes, I am ready. I take a few deep breaths. I can do this. "Ready," I reply with a steady voice. He comes to my side and opens the passenger door. He guides me through the precinct and then a narrow hallway. Now I am standing in front of four potential criminals with only a glass barrier, which, according to the detective, will block any view or sound for them. At first, I am not able to remember a single damn thing; I am just looking at four of them with my heart in my throat. But when I step closer to assess each one of them, I recognize those lifeless eyes with the most disgusting and menacing expression in them. Suddenly I feel like drowning again, the panic threatening to tighten its claws up to my throat. I don't want this. It took me three years to overcome my severe anxiety, and now I have had two panic attacks in 24 hours in front of the same man. I have to get a hold of myself. No, I can't let myself have another panic attack. He will think I am weak. I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. A hand rests on my shoulder, and without looking, I can tell whose it is. Knowing I am not alone, I slowly peel my eyes open and point at the criminal. He frowns and then asks, "Are you sure?" "Yes, I am 100 percent sure," I reply with a surety in my voice. I can never forget his huge frame and those emotionless eyes. He continues to frown. "What is it?" I ask. "He has an alibi. His girlfriend, I think. He says he was with her that morning." "How is this possible? I clearly remember it being him." I say, my voice trembling with uncertainty. He appears to be in thought. Then he asks," Can you tell me how you are so sure? Tell me everything you remember about him. Don't miss a single thing." "Well," I think hard because I don't want to make any mistakes." "I couldn't see his face because of the hideous mask, but his height... He was towering over me, and my head was just reaching his chest, and his body type was the same as his. And in terms of eye color, the man at the bank has the same brown eyes and voice. Can you make him say something? I will recognize his voice." He nods and picks up a mic. "Everyone, tell your names and what you were doing at the time of the robbery." He commands, his tone the complete opposite of the gentle one he uses with me. His voice and personality radiate power. The four of the prisoners start talking, but I don't pay attention to a single thing. My focus is only on one person. When it is his turn, he speaks, and his voice gives me chills. "Name: James. I was with my girlfriend, Michaela, at noon. She can confirm this." He finishes... Put your head down, woman or I will put a bullet in this pretty little head of yours, and there are no doubts in my mind. It is the same voice that's been ringing in my ears since yesterday's encounter. I look at Detective Martin and nod. "It's him. I can never be so sure of another thing in my life." He looks at me with a stern expression and nods. "Thank you for your time. I will take on from now on." "But you said he has an alibi." "Don't worry. Leave that to me. He is lying, and I am very familiar with these kinds of liars. I know what I have to do." I nod. He puts his hand on the small of my back and ushers me through the hallway. He stops a few times to talk to his fellow cops. He looks every ounce of "Detective Martin" right now, with no sign of the soft man who soothes me during my panic attacks, who held my hand and talked me through my anxiety. No. He is a powerful man in a powerful position. It is clear from the way other cops are acting around him. It's silly, I know, but I am feeling a little bit of pride toward him. After he drops me home, I lie on my couch all day and keep blushing and giggling while thinking about him.