Donuts and Handcuffs

“Well then, if we are going to use the barter system, what if I brought some pizza and wine ove

r tonight, to thank you for the video footage?”

Bailey paused, and for a soul wrenching moment, I wondered if she was going to turn me down. I could actually feel my heart beating hollowly in my chest during the four thump pause.

“Sure,” she said, “But my apartment is a bit messy.”

“Good,” I said quickly. “You’re supposed to be resting. I’m sure it’s fine.”

We made plans for me to drop by at seven, with a ground beef and pepperoni pizza with extra oregano.

My hope for a goodbye kiss was thwarted by the arrival of several customers. I wasn’t sure about her opinion on public displays of affection, and since we hadn’t had the discussion, I certainly wasn’t going to announce it in her place of business.

As I waved goodbye, her bright eyes flashed as she smiled at me. I realized I was already in deeper than I had ever expected.

I adored her. I was fascinated by everything about her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and promise her that nothing in this world would ever hurt her again.

Instead, I went to work and tried to focus.

Luckily it was a pretty easy day, dealing with endless parking violations, driving offenses, and cruising around the neighborhood. Some people found a police presence reassuring. It annoyed other people. But those tended to be the folks up to no good.

At the end of my shift, after I completed the last of the paperwork and reports, my hand hovered over the keyboard. There had been something I’d been thinking about, but trying to talk myself out of.

Before I could stop them, my treacherous fingers were running a search on Bailey Saunders. There were several social media profiles, but they were for a seven-year-old in England, a toddler in California, and a few older ladies though the mid-western States. Nobody remotely resembling my Bailey.

I felt absolutely disgusting, but I entered her name into the police database. Surely she must have had a parking ticket at some point. Everyone does, especially in Toronto.

There was absolutely nothing. She didn’t own a car. Or if she did, it wasn’t registered in her name.

That made me feel a bit unsettled. I couldn’t help wondering how bad her ex-boyfriend really was. I knew that I was paranoid, with my family history. It was something that instantly made my entire frame rigid with rage.

I had always had a powerful sense of right and wrong, and lifting a hand to a woman was so wrong that the thought of it nearly rendered me blind with fury.

There was no way I could discuss it with Bailey since she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. And I had to wonder if I made her nervous in any way. I was a pretty big guy, with a deep, somewhat booming voice. I could only hope that she knew me well enough to know that I was not aggressive. There was no way on this earth I would ever be aggressive with her.

I almost wished that it was something else. Anything else. Some other reason why she had so much security, and was so jumpy, with no record of her existence. But it was the only reason that fit.

I guess all I could do was be there for her, and help her to feel safe. It had to give her comfort to be close to a police officer. If her ex, or any of his friends, came stalking around, they would think twice if they saw a police presence.

No wonder she had extra locks on the door. No wonder she had such a fear of needles. Maybe she had spent too much time in the hospital because of him.

Shutting my computer down, I had to clear my mind. The best thing for her would likely be calm, wholesome evenings together. Something stable, to let her see that I am the sort of guy she can depend on.

When I arrived at Bailey’s apartment with a pizza box and a bottle of wine, her sweet, twinkling eyes warmed my heart straight through. This finally felt like a date. I knew that I should take her out to a proper dinner soon, and I would, but I felt like she should still be resting at home as much as possible.

The deep need to wrap her in a blanket of protection was not new to me. I was a protector and defender at heart, but I’d never had feelings this extreme. It seemed to come from a deep, wordless place inside me. I could only hope that I didn’t scare her away.

“Daniel,” she smiled sweetly. “Come on in.”

I followed her up the stairs, placing the pizza on her dining room table. She waved to her desk in the corner, covered with all sorts of pretty stationery. “There is the drive,” she said, gesturing to a slim blue rectangle.

Glancing at her mini-office area, I took in the colored pens, chunky recycled paper envelopes, and thick, well-worn notebook with a duck on the cover. Everything was bright, almost playful.

“I know,” she laughed. “I really don’t like paperwork, so I try to make it fun with markers, stickers and neat papers.”

In moments she had plates, napkins, and glasses, while I uncorked the bottle. She poured half a glass of wine for herself, and a full glass for me. “I’m half your size, so I should drink half as much.”

“I’ll leave the resident cook in charge of portion control,” I chuckled.