Donuts and Handcuffs

It wasn’t much to go on, but our detectives didn’t have anything else at the moment. Instances simply being too coincidental to be believed didn’t hold up in court.

But I also sent Bailey a text saying that her rest was far more important than our investigation. She responded saying that she would get back to me soon. I had to force myself not to pester her further. I wanted to know how she felt. I wanted to know if I could drop by the store and bring her anything.

I didn’t mean to be pushy, or too forward. I couldn’t stop the overwhelming urge to protect her, to care for her. Yet I’d noticed that she seemed a bit timid. As if she wanted to be careful about how much of herself she shared. She might have her mental and emotional shields up for good reason.

When she mentioned running away from an ex-boyfriend, my blood ran cold. She didn’t go into any details, but it also seemed like her face had turned into a mask. A practiced expression of external calm.

I’d learned that look when I was very small. My mother wore it often. It was the look she used to gloss over the bruises on her arms when the neighbors politely asked questions. It was the expression she wore when she had to take me to the doctor for my yearly check-up, but refused to answer a single question about herself.

I had wanted to help her, and I tried my best, but I didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was seventeen.

When I was nine, all I could do was try to make our home a place where nothing could possibly trigger my father. When my father fatally smashed his car into a stoplight post when I was eleven, I was confused by how guilty I felt at the relief. I saw that my mother felt it too. A sliver of joy and peace when there was supposed to be sorrow.

It solidified my belief that some people are good, and others are bad. Sure, everyone has a mix inside them. Everyone has crazy days where they behave completely outside of their character. But when it came down to brass tacks, most people were on one side of the line or the other.

It took a long time for my mother to build herself back up. To allow herself to make friends again, and go back out into the world.

That could be what Bailey was going through now. A reinvention of herself, in her new role as an independent woman and new business owner.

It had been hard for my mother to ask for help for a long time because she was afraid it would come with strings attached. She would likely always be petrified that men could turn against her.

I could only hope that Bailey knew she could reach out to me at any time. The entire neighborhood seemed to love her. How could they not? She was sweet and friendly, thoughtful and creative. Her whimsical food and adorably weird shop was a focal point of the street.

Her rather extreme locks and video cameras could have been installed by an overzealous salesperson. Or she could be paranoid. Or, it might not be paranoia. She might have good reasons to make her home into a fortress.

I couldn’t stand the thought of her not feeling safe. She mentioned not sleeping well. I wished that I could wrap my arms around her every night so that she’d sleep better.

The next morning, I got to work early, cruising by the bakery to pick up a coffee before my shift. The way Bailey’s face lit up as I walked in the door made my heart melt. She finished serving cookies to a couple of mothers and their toddlers, and I held the door as they rolled their strollers out.

“You’re looking a bit brighter,” I said with a huge smile. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, grinning. “Yes, thanks. I’m afraid to use my left arm to lift anything heavy, so I made tiny cookies and mini muffins. There are more pans, but they’re all lighter, so I can lift them mostly right-handed.”

I came to stand at the side of the counter, not quite in her workspace, but close enough to feel that amazing connection that seemed to be growing between us.

“Very clever,” I said. “Plus, miniature food is always more delicious than regular-sized food.”

“Right?” she exclaimed. “Toy food is always better. That’s why we like mini meatballs. And sushi. Bite-size things are tastier. It’s science.”

“But now you have more pans to clean,” I said, looking around. “Do you need a hand?”

She shook her head with a grin. “Mr. Barry from the shoe store sent his son over already to scrub the baking sheets, sweep the shop, and help me fill the water container.” She grinned. “Devin is a really nice kid, and he saving up for drum lessons, so he’s very dedicated.” Her eyes grew wide as she leaned closer. “Don’t tell the cops that I’m illegally paying him cash under the table.”

I laughed louder than I had intended. “Not my department. But I’m pretty sure a few days of work isn’t really worth all of the paperwork.”

“Precisely,” she said. “Paperwork is the only part of my job I don’t like.”

She glanced up at the massive clock framed with flowers, leaves, and tropical birds. “Doesn’t your shift start soon?”

I reached out to slip my hand under the back of her hair, tipping her face up to mine as I planted a tiny kiss on those perfect lips. “You know my schedule?” I murmured. “Keeping tabs on me?”

She giggled, her cute nose crinkling. “Keeping tabs on the coffee pot as well, of course.”

Bailey started to get up from her stool, but I stopped her. “I just need two coffees. Is it okay if I get them so that I can pretend to be chivalrous, and let you rest?”

She shrugged. “Sure. But this being lazy thing is starting to get boring.” Then she snapped her fingers. “Oh – I got those videos ready for you. I quickly chopped the four hours down so that it’s only the footage that shows people or cars, and it’s all time stamped. That made it a lot easier to pop onto a drive.”

I began to dig in my wallet, but she waved me away. “Please, Daniel, a couple of free coffees doesn’t begin to thank you for the luxurious car service back from the hospital.”