Another day, another chapter
Chapter 8 of We All Fall Down. The tag section isn't working for some reason- hmmm.
Her gun laid on his coffee table next to the Buffalo Bills football. Jeans were not ideal for sleeping in for they seemed to cut off the circulation to one’s legs but given the circumstances she wasn’t going to sleep on the blue sofa in her underwear.
It took Samantha a few minutes to connect the dots and realize where she was. She wasn’t at work with her head pressed against a suspect rap sheet, she wasn’t at home curled up in her own bed, she wasn’t at a hotel after a night with someone that she hoped wouldn’t call. She was at Josh Dugan’s apartment, on his couch, while he was in his bedroom chasing away the nightmare of finding Laura Traskin dead.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Her back felt sore and her legs were pleading for a run to get the blood circulating again. Her watch told her it was 5:34 in the morning, Josh would still be sleeping for a while longer, she assumed. She was glad she had slipped sneakers on before heading out the day before. Samantha stared at her gun for a minute debating whether or not to bring it jogging with her. Deciding she didn’t want the cold metal banging on her hip she left it, her purse, and her jacket.
Josh had given her a spare key in case she wanted to leave to get breakfast the night before so she slipped that into the back of her jean’s pocket.
The morning air chilled her as she headed to Central Park. It occurred to her that Josh probably had run a similar route the previous morning. Josh, poor Josh. Every once in a while this would happen to a FBI agent or a cop for whatever reason a particular victim would upset them to the point of needing time off or a friendly shoulder to cry on. Samantha had been through it herself. She found it easy to give Josh platonic comfort and when he asked her to stay the night she had agreed without pausing.
It was nearly 7 when she finally returned back to the Dugan apartment. She had missed the crime scene somehow even though she had searched to discover it. Josh must have been running for hours, she thought, to have seen some color in the bushes. Adjacent to Josh’s apartment there was no area matching the description he gave her.
Given the chill in the air she hadn’t expected her clothes to be so soaked with sweat. She definitely needed a shower especially after skipping one the day before.
Josh was sitting on the blue sofa that had doubled as her bed when she unlocked the door.
“Morning,” she said still catching her breath.
“Do you go for a run?” he asked taking a sip from a coffee mug.
“Yeah. Do you mind if I use your shower?”
“No of course not.” He rose from his seat. “Would you like some coffee or breakfast?”
“Not yet thanks. How long have you been up?” She had noticed his change of colors- a new pair of jeans and a navy blue Police sweatshirt.
“About half an hour. There are fresh towels here,” he said leading her to the bathroom and pointing to a shelf, “and hold on a second.” He put down his mug on the sink’s surface and grabbed an unopened bar of soap from a cabinet at ground level.
“Thanks Josh.”
“Thank you. Thanks for being my friend and staying Sam.”
“And you realize that’s all we are- friends.”
“Yes. I’m in no mood for anything more right now anyways.” He grabbed his mug and left Samantha alone in the bathroom.
“Josh,” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have sweats or something from me to borrow? I’ll go home later and change.”
“Sure,” he replied. “Come here I’ll show you.”
She followed him into his bedroom which was sans any sports memorabilia and was actually pretty minimal. He had a bed, a dresser, and a night stand. There were no pictures on the walls and no clothes left on the floor. Josh opened his closet door and stood back. “You’re a little taller than Emily but I think you can manage.”
Samantha peered in. There were a few uniforms, some shirts, pants, jackets and then a whole section of smaller purple/pink sparkly like clothes. “Does your sister stay here often?” She asked feeling the skin prickling on the back of her neck.
“No, not anymore.” His voice sounded strange but he smiled quickly. “So choose something. I’m going to make myself another Pop Tart.”
“Pop Tart?”
“Yeah you want one?”
She saw Jack’s face flash in her mind. “No, no thanks.”
Grabbing a purple tee shirt that would probably be a little tight on her and a pair of grey sweats that would be a little short, Samantha headed back into the bathroom starting her water.
She heard Josh yell, “Sam, I’ll be right back I’m going to go buy a newspaper.”
“Okay,’ she yelled back and listened for the door to close.
Something, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, was making her suddenly feel uneasy. The water was still flowing in the shower stall but she wasn’t under her. She was at her purse taking her cell phone out. No phone messages. She dialed her answering machine popping in the access code and listened as Jack’s message played. Her mind spun with the wording he used. As she was just dialing the office she heard foot steps approaching the door.
To be continued...
Her gun laid on his coffee table next to the Buffalo Bills football. Jeans were not ideal for sleeping in for they seemed to cut off the circulation to one’s legs but given the circumstances she wasn’t going to sleep on the blue sofa in her underwear.
It took Samantha a few minutes to connect the dots and realize where she was. She wasn’t at work with her head pressed against a suspect rap sheet, she wasn’t at home curled up in her own bed, she wasn’t at a hotel after a night with someone that she hoped wouldn’t call. She was at Josh Dugan’s apartment, on his couch, while he was in his bedroom chasing away the nightmare of finding Laura Traskin dead.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Her back felt sore and her legs were pleading for a run to get the blood circulating again. Her watch told her it was 5:34 in the morning, Josh would still be sleeping for a while longer, she assumed. She was glad she had slipped sneakers on before heading out the day before. Samantha stared at her gun for a minute debating whether or not to bring it jogging with her. Deciding she didn’t want the cold metal banging on her hip she left it, her purse, and her jacket.
Josh had given her a spare key in case she wanted to leave to get breakfast the night before so she slipped that into the back of her jean’s pocket.
The morning air chilled her as she headed to Central Park. It occurred to her that Josh probably had run a similar route the previous morning. Josh, poor Josh. Every once in a while this would happen to a FBI agent or a cop for whatever reason a particular victim would upset them to the point of needing time off or a friendly shoulder to cry on. Samantha had been through it herself. She found it easy to give Josh platonic comfort and when he asked her to stay the night she had agreed without pausing.
It was nearly 7 when she finally returned back to the Dugan apartment. She had missed the crime scene somehow even though she had searched to discover it. Josh must have been running for hours, she thought, to have seen some color in the bushes. Adjacent to Josh’s apartment there was no area matching the description he gave her.
Given the chill in the air she hadn’t expected her clothes to be so soaked with sweat. She definitely needed a shower especially after skipping one the day before.
Josh was sitting on the blue sofa that had doubled as her bed when she unlocked the door.
“Morning,” she said still catching her breath.
“Do you go for a run?” he asked taking a sip from a coffee mug.
“Yeah. Do you mind if I use your shower?”
“No of course not.” He rose from his seat. “Would you like some coffee or breakfast?”
“Not yet thanks. How long have you been up?” She had noticed his change of colors- a new pair of jeans and a navy blue Police sweatshirt.
“About half an hour. There are fresh towels here,” he said leading her to the bathroom and pointing to a shelf, “and hold on a second.” He put down his mug on the sink’s surface and grabbed an unopened bar of soap from a cabinet at ground level.
“Thanks Josh.”
“Thank you. Thanks for being my friend and staying Sam.”
“And you realize that’s all we are- friends.”
“Yes. I’m in no mood for anything more right now anyways.” He grabbed his mug and left Samantha alone in the bathroom.
“Josh,” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have sweats or something from me to borrow? I’ll go home later and change.”
“Sure,” he replied. “Come here I’ll show you.”
She followed him into his bedroom which was sans any sports memorabilia and was actually pretty minimal. He had a bed, a dresser, and a night stand. There were no pictures on the walls and no clothes left on the floor. Josh opened his closet door and stood back. “You’re a little taller than Emily but I think you can manage.”
Samantha peered in. There were a few uniforms, some shirts, pants, jackets and then a whole section of smaller purple/pink sparkly like clothes. “Does your sister stay here often?” She asked feeling the skin prickling on the back of her neck.
“No, not anymore.” His voice sounded strange but he smiled quickly. “So choose something. I’m going to make myself another Pop Tart.”
“Pop Tart?”
“Yeah you want one?”
She saw Jack’s face flash in her mind. “No, no thanks.”
Grabbing a purple tee shirt that would probably be a little tight on her and a pair of grey sweats that would be a little short, Samantha headed back into the bathroom starting her water.
She heard Josh yell, “Sam, I’ll be right back I’m going to go buy a newspaper.”
“Okay,’ she yelled back and listened for the door to close.
Something, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, was making her suddenly feel uneasy. The water was still flowing in the shower stall but she wasn’t under her. She was at her purse taking her cell phone out. No phone messages. She dialed her answering machine popping in the access code and listened as Jack’s message played. Her mind spun with the wording he used. As she was just dialing the office she heard foot steps approaching the door.
To be continued...