Kill Shot (6 page)

Micki unlocked the door and surveyed the debris strewn over the floor. Papers and computer accessories lay intermingled with shattered knick-knacks inherited from her grandmother. A sense of hopelessness swamped her. She didn’t know where to begin to make order of the chaos.

Her small computer desk was empty. The top-of-the-line photo printer lay on its side and the monitor appeared to be intact, but the CPU itself had been taken to the police lab.

Oz lifted the printer and monitor into place but there was no way to tell if they were still functional without the computer being hooked up.

She choked back the lump in her throat and took a deep breath. She knelt to gather papers and stacked them on her narrow dining bar. Locating a legal pad she began listing the damaged or missing items.

Micki searched through the papers surrounding the desk, suspicion gnawing at her gut. “He took the envelope of proofs I’d just printed. It was right on top of the computer table. I hadn’t filed it yet.”

She felt her lips quiver and pressed them into a firm line. “No, I...it’s not just a pen. There!” She spied the cap of a black pen sticking out from under her sofa and made a lunge for it, but Oz scooped it up.

She thought about confirming his assumption but couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. She never had. “It has a flash drive. I backed up my photos on it.” She removed the cap and pulled the pen apart, revealing the concealed tool. “It was late when I downloaded them. I forgot until now.”

“You saved your shots from the park?” Oz asked.

“It’s so much more than that. This device has all the photos I’ve shot in the last year. I back everything up. I make a file on my desktop for active clients but I always copy everything to this flash drive.” She clicked the pen together and clasped it to her breast experiencing a rush of giddiness.

His brows drew together. “You’re saying you have the pictures you took in the park yesterday?”

“Yes and the wedding I shot last week. I sent the proofs, but the family hasn’t ordered yet. I have a lot of money out there waiting to be collected.”

Oz slouched against the door frame to the kitchen. “How does your business work, anyway? Do you charge for your time or by the photo?”

“Both,” she said. “I charge a flat fee to shoot a wedding depending on the elaborateness and that includes a certain number of finished pictures for the wedding album. But the family members always want extras and I take formal portraits of the bride before the wedding and the wedding party on the day of the event.”

“It sounds like a good gig, Micki.” Oz gathered the rest of the debris and papers from the floor, depositing it by the pile on the bar. This was the most attention he had ever shown in her work.

She shrugged. “I like it. It’s creative and fun.”

“You only take weddings?”

“No. I shoot anything I can get paid for. I got several calls after I put an ad in the church bulletin at St. Basil’s. I photographed the entire first communion class and also a christening.”

“And this makes you happy?” he asked. “I always thought you were just showing an interest to please your father.”

It was a simple question, but it served as an example of why there was an ocean of difference between the woman she was and the woman he wanted her to be.

“Yes, it makes me happy.” She turned away to sort the papers and bag the broken or damaged items after listing them for insurance purposes. Her brow puckered. “I wonder why the pony tail guy took the proofs.”

“Always,” she said. “It’s easier to print two sets at the same time than to go back and reprint. When I collect the final fees I always put the second set of proofs in a small album and offer it to the bride’s mother.”

In the car, Micki clutched her precious pen containing all the pictures she’d taken over the past year. She stroked her fingers over the cap, thankful for her obsession with protecting her work. As soon as Oz opened the door to his apartment she deposited her treasure on his kitchen counter in plain sight where she could keep an eye on it.

Now, Oz was on his knees.

Micki kind of liked that, but it scared her too. The last time she had seen him on his knees he’d been proposing marriage. This time he wielded a screwdriver.

“Okay,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “The things I’m willing to do for a present.” She took his face in both hands and lowered her lips to his.

His mouth tightened. “Fawn badgered me for a key. She was always showing up unexpectedly and she would stand outside to wait for me. I don’t know why I gave it to her. I just...” Oz looked back at her. “I was lonely, Micki. After you dumped me I was alone and...”

A giant fist gripped her stomach, “I was wrong. I don’t want to know.” Micki turned away from the sad expression on his face. The same expression he’d worn when she’d gone running to him after the incident in the park. “I’m sorry I asked. Forget it.”

“You did ask,” he said.

She pretended to examine the pattern on the drapes. “I just wondered how you got involved with a girl like that. She’s very pretty. I’m sure any guy would be attracted to her, but...” Her throat tightened and she felt like she was sinking in quicksand. “She doesn’t seem like your type.”

Oz came up behind her and wrapped his fingers around her shoulders, pulling her back to rest against him. He buried his face in her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Micki, I told her I was still in love with you, but she didn’t care. And the guys at the station thought I was crazy to resist.”

Micki turned to gaze up at him. “Shhh. I understand. I expected you to find someone else. I just wasn’t prepared for the reality...and I didn’t imagine you with someone so flashy, like...like...” Her voice trailed off. “I have no right to complain.”

Oz flashed a rueful grin. “Yeah, but I’m done talking about it. It’s over. Fawn is out of my life.” He kissed her on the nose. “I have to get back to work. Be good and stay here.”

He departed as she pondered his relationship with a woman who took off her clothes for a living.

Left to her own devices, Micki searched the apartment to determine if the nubile Fawn had left any of her belongings behind to serve as an excuse for a return visit.

She didn’t find any Fawn leftovers but when she opened the bottom drawer of Oz’ bureau she found a wealth of Micki memorabilia. The drawer was crammed with photos, ticket stubs and programs from their years of togetherness. Some of the contents were things Micki had bundled and dumped on his doorstep when she’d broken up with him.

He’d saved everything.

She sat cross-legged on the floor recalling their history together. Tears stung her eyes when she saw their young, innocent faces peering out from photos, so obviously in love.

She tried to remember a time when she hadn’t been Oz’ girl, but couldn’t. Even when they were children, she’d known he liked her. He protected her from the bullies at school, yet teased her unmercifully. It was understood. Micki was Oz’ girl.

It had been so easy to float along with Oz, like an extra appendage he hadn’t really needed, but liked having around. Micki had so much to thank him for, but she’d repaid him by breaking his heart, along with her own in the process. She’d been drowning in Oz, smothering, but she’d clawed her way out. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to explain it to her own satisfaction, let alone his.

Climbing up off the carpet, she made the bed, figuring they’d both be sleeping there tonight. That brought a whole other set of problems, in that she couldn’t imagine herself maintaining a semi-platonic relationship with Oz for much longer.

She hated the way her entire body ached for him. He was addictive. If she was a little more selfish, she’d enjoy the physical pleasures Oz could deliver and then return to her independent career girl life that he hated when the threat was over.

But she wasn’t a taker. She wouldn’t let him get his hopes up unless she could guarantee giving him what he really wanted.
He doesn’t deserve to be let down again
.

And I can’t give up being me.

Micki checked out the refrigerator and pantry and made a grocery list.

She wasn’t sure how long her imposed incarceration in Oz’ place would last, but she would shop for a few days anyway because she didn’t want him to keep ordering in.

When Oz came through the door that evening, she was waiting for him. She relayed their need for groceries while he changed out of his uniform. They were in his car when Micki’s cell phone rang.

“Micki? It’s Zondra. I’ve been robbed!”

A tingling sensation worked its way down Micki’s spine. “What happened?’ She could hear Zondra sobbing hysterically through the phone.

At the ER, Oz parked in the visitor parking lot. When Micki asked for Zondra at the information desk, he flashed his badge and they were allowed back inside the busy treatment area.

“Micki!” Zondra gasped, reaching for her with the aplomb of an accomplished drama queen.

“Zondra, are you alright?”

“No!” she shrieked. “Just look at my face!” A tiny cut beside her eye had been butterflied with a steri-strip and a doctor was dressing the scrape on her forehead with a gauze pad.

“It doesn’t look too bad.” Micki gave her an encouraging smile.

Zondra squinted at Micki. “Omigod! What happened to you? Your face looks worse than mine.” Zondra’s large expressive eyes reflected total horror as she examined Micki’s bruises.

“I...had an accident,” she said.

Zondra looked up at Oz for the first time. Her gaze flicked over his tall muscular form, resting momentarily on the badge and weapon affixed to his utility belt. She extended her lovely manicured hand. “Zondra Sebastian.”

“This is Oz...Paul Osmond, my...my friend.”

“And an officer of the law,” Zondra’s voice almost purred with delight. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Officer Oz.” Zondra twinkled her dimples at him.