The Sorceress (11 page)

“Would you look after him for me? I'm going out for a quick run.”

Carmen looked aghast. She cut an eye at Lizzy, hoping for some support when she laid out all the reasons she couldn't keep an eye on the boy.

Lizzy, a short, withering woman with graying hair, did all her chores in what seemed like painfully slow motion, but she now showed a surprising amount of energy as she vigorously rubbed the face of the tall clock.

Usually a busybody, Lizzy averted her attention away from Carmen and Jen, and focused on her task; wisely refraining from adding her two cents worth. She apparently didn't want to get involved in any discussion that might conclude with her being responsible for giving care to the boy.

Seeming to sense that Lizzy was withholding support, Carmen caved in. “Okay, Jen. Uh, you won't be gone too long, will you?” Carmen asked, her voice uneasy as she pushed back eyeglasses that had slid to the tip of her nose. “I have to start making supper for the senator and a few guests. He's entertaining at home
tonight. Foreign dignitaries,” she added, to strengthen her case that she had lots of work to do and needed Jen to hurry back.

“I won't be long, Carmen,” Jen assured, knowing that Carmen, like the rest of the household staff, was as edgy as a cat when it came to being alone with Ethan. “After he finishes his breakfast, park him in front of his computer. He'll be happy there.” Giddy with relief, Jen bounded the staircase.

She tightened the laces on her brand new Nikes, and grabbed a fleece-lined, oversized, zip-up hoodie, appliquéd with the Temple University logo.

Jen tromped down the stairs. Instead of running out of the house, she forced herself to check on the boy. Standing near the entrance of the large dining room, Jen observed as Carmen pulled up a chair close to Ethan. She tried to spoon-feed him to speed him along. “Eat!” Carmen prompted. There was no mistaking the irritation in her voice.

Ethan crunched lazily, refusing to cooperate with Carmen, who was practically shoveling the cereal into his mouth.

Impatient, Carmen snatched up a cloth napkin and wiped a ring of milk from Ethan's mouth. She pulled the tray from in front of him and lifted him out of the chair. Grasping only the tips of his fingers as if his hands were covered with slime, Carmen drew her face into a tight knot of aggravation. She rolled her eyes at Jen as she led the tot upstairs and directed him to his bedroom and his computer.

Jen's thick, athletic legs pumped along a familiar path on the side of the road. The temperature was a little chillier than normal for late October, but within a few minutes, her joints warmed up, blood pumping.

The sound of her feet pounding against the earth was soothing. Inhaling fresh air and feeling the cool breeze blowing in her face was so exhilarating, her mind soon cleared of all thoughts of the weird little boy she was employed to care for.

Soon, she had arrived at the end of the path. Time to turn back. But she didn't want to. This freedom felt too sweet and she wasn't ready to deal with Ethan quite yet. She checked her watch and was surprised that only ten minutes had elapsed. She had plenty of time.

Filled with a sense of euphoria. Jen veered off the trail and ran alongside Forbidden Drive, a pebbled dirt road that followed the Wissahickon Creek. Jogging felt so good, she didn't mind that the ground was damp and the grooves on the soles of her new running shoes would be caked with mud.

Running and running, splashing mud like a carefree child, she soon noticed a small foot bridge. Startled, she skittered over the stony terrain; trying to put on the brakes. Her Nikes kicked up soggy dirt and scattered pebbles as she slid to a bumpy stop.

Sheer terror gripped her heart. She clamped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes blinked rapidly and then gawked in disbelief.

Hurrying across the bridge was a naked black woman—the exact apparition that had appeared on Ethan's computer screen. But here she was in the flesh, with her wild hair flapping on her shoulders as she paced uncertainly.

The crazy lady swung her head around and looked over her shoulder and then began turning her head swiftly to the left and then the right. She looked confused, as if she didn't know which way to go.

Taking tiny backward steps, a strangled cry escaped Jen's lips. Desperately, she scanned the motorists who whizzed by; flailed her arms over her head for help. But not one driver stopped or
even slowed down. No one seemed to notice Jen or the naked woman on the bridge.

The black woman instantly shot her gaze directly at Jen. An uncanny stream of blue light emanated from the woman's eyes. Now frozen in place, Jen looked down and gaped at the blue dot that had been projected onto the center of her chest, pinpointing her as a human target.

Survival instincts unfroze her feet and Jen turned, tried to run, but lost her balance and went crashing down. Her chin, chest, arms, and thighs pressed into the sludge. She pulled herself up, and then shot a frightened look toward the bridge.

The woman had disappeared. Heaving sobs jerked Jen's shoulders as she careened away from the bridge, running against traffic along the sodden dirt path.

Nerves frazzled, vision blurred, Jen didn't notice the police squad car cruising toward her. The car slowed and then came to a stop, the driver's door opened.

“Something wrong, ma'am?” asked a really nice-looking police officer as he walked around the vehicle.

She shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

He leaned against the passenger door. He was medium height, very fit, and had a rugged sex appeal that was even more enhanced by the uniform, Jen noted.

“Are you out jogging or is someone chasing you?” A slight smile tugged at the corners of the police officer's lips, teasing Jen into relaxing and being straight with him.

Then she noticed a frown formed as he inspected her.

There was no hint of a lingering smile in his eyes as they scrutinized her, taking in her mud-covered palms and mudsplattered clothing.

He looked at her face. “Seriously, ma'am…you can talk to me. Did someone assault you?”

“No,” Jen protested. “I'm fine.” Her trembling lip was a giveaway that all was not well. She wanted to tell him about the crazy lady, or entity, or whatever…that had been running around on the bridge. No, he'd think she was nuts. And what could he do to a nonphysical being?

He moved in closer. “Would you like to come to the station with me? Talk to a female officer?”

Jen shook her head adamantly. “I'm okay. Really. I fell.”

The handsome cop gave her a doubtful look. Under normal circumstances, if a cop as hot as this one was in such close proximity, her mind would be zooming; trying to come up with a flirty line. But all she could do was emit tiny whimpers.

“Obviously, you're not okay. Can you identify the assailant, ma'am?”

“I'm fine,” she protested again, her pitch rising. She lowered her tone. “There wasn't any assailant. Honestly.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Really. Nobody assaulted me. I'm not hurt. I…I just have something on my mind.”

The police officer stared at Jen's face, squinting as if trying to get a clearer view of her soul. She squirmed under his intense and penetrating gaze. It seemed as if he was trying to get to the truth of the matter by staring into her eyes. Feeling exposed and self-conscious, Jen dropped her gaze.

“Got your cell on you?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Your cell phone.”

“Oh!” She patted the low-hanging pocket of her hoodie. “Yeah. Why?”

“I want you to take my number in your phone…in case you
decide you want to talk. Unofficially, of course.” He pulled out his cell.

She held up her mud-stained palms and shrugged.

“Don't want you to get your phone all muddy, so I'll call you. Make sure you lock my number in.”

Lock his number in? Was hot cop hitting on her while she was mud-covered, disheveled, stammering and stuttering, and obviously teetering on the brink of insanity?

What did he find appealing?
Absolutely nothing!
she answered herself. She could tell by his kind expression that he thought she'd been victimized and was disoriented and rambling. He was using some of his police training to smooth talk her into blowing the whistle on the perpetrator.

If she told Hot Cop what she was really running from, he'd probably drop her off at the closest loony bin. “Um, I don't think it's a good—”

He stared at Jen. “You're running, you're crying, and you look like you've been dragged through mud. It's my job to pursue and apprehend suspects. If you give me a description…or tell me what he was wearing…”

Jen shook her head. “There's nothing to tell.”

“You don't have to be afraid, ma'am. Just tell me what happened?” His voice was satin. But Jen was no fool. Well, not that big of a fool to fall for his smooth talking.

“Nothing happened. I stumbled on something and fell.”

Squinting, he nodded. “I patrol this area every day. Never saw you before. Are you new around here?”

“Sort of.”

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to provide more details. She merely nodded. He ran his eyes over her hoodie. “You go to Temple?” he asked.

“Uh. Used to.”

“Oh, so you sort of live around here and you used to go to Temple?”

Jen sighed. Oh, Lord, why was this man trying to get all up in her business like this? Catherine would have a freakin' fit if she thought Jen was discussing any aspect of her private affairs with an outsider—a law enforcement agent, in particular.

“Yeah, I'm sort of new in this neighborhood. I work for a family here in Chestnut Hill.” She skipped over the part about Temple. It was a personal sore spot.

“Doing what?” he asked with a charming smile.

Charming smile or not, his question made her squirm. “You sure are nosey. I mean…I'm starting to feel like this is an interrogation or something?”

“No, I'm not interrogating you. Is that how I'm coming across?” His lips spread into a lazy, non-threatening smile.

“That's how it seems. And I shouldn't have to respond to anything because I didn't call for help. You came from out of nowhere and stopped me.”

Unperturbed, he laughed. “It's my job to provide aid to a citizen who seems to be in distress. But now that I know you're all right…I was…you know, kickin' it with you.”

Jen looked at Hot Cop like he'd lost his mind and backed up a little.
Was he some kind of cute creep who had a thing for muddy joggers?

“I'm not comfortable having a conversation right now. I really have to get out of these clothes.” She frowned down and pointed at the mud that was splattered on the front of her hoodie.

“That's understandable.” He looked at her and then down at his phone, used his thumb to rotate a side button, and then looked at her again. “I can't make you tell me what happened
to you, but whatever went down shouldn't be taken lightly. I bet you could use a friend.”

The nerve—the arrogance of this hot cop—making the assumption that she was lonely, which she was, but still…it wasn't any of his business.

Hot Cop saw the indignation on her face. “That came out wrong. I meant to say, I'm available if you want to talk…unofficially, of course.” He disarmed her with another smile. “By the way, my name is Romel Chavis. Friends call me Rome.”

“Jennifer Darnell,” Jen told him, leaving out the shortened version of her name since she didn't intend to ever talk to him again. He seemed like the type who was used to getting his way. Jen bet he had never, in life, made one booty call. Why would he? He gave out his number and women called him. Shit, if it weren't for Catherine and all her rules, Jen would probably join the long list of female booty callers.

But as it was, she couldn't. She'd lose her job if she started palling around with a police officer. But being polite, and also in an attempt to get rid of the aggressive cop, she recited her number.

Rome hunched over as he punched her number into his phone. Jen stole a look. He was concentrating, like it was serious business; unconsciously holding his lips scrunched together. His mouth looked scrumptious. So kissable. Positively lickable.

When her cell went off, the vibration inside her pocket startled her, sending little tingles down her thigh. Jen felt her cheeks grow warm, as if Hot Cop's hand was touching her thigh, caressing it; his thick fingers migrating toward her most intimate spot.

“That's my number. Put it on lock.” He winked.

Oh, God!
That wink was devastating, causing her thoughts to
take a quick turn, detouring from soft and sensual feelings to inappropriate…mind-in-the-gutter thinking, accompanied by lewd imagery as she imagined her and Hot Cop naked on the ground, their bodies entangled as they wallowed together in a bed of mud.

He replaced his phone in his pocket. “Need a ride?”

“No thanks.” Jen rushed toward home. Hot Cop got in the squad car and cruised away.