DEAD IN BED By Bailey Simms: The Complete Second Book

PART 9, AUTHOR'S NOTE - 2/8/15, 2:07pm

After I'd demanded to know about Kyle, the cop just nodded calmly, like some high school teacher who'd kept me after class.

"Kyle doesn't matter." He shrugged. "You need to forget about Kyle. He's not right for you. He's had an extraordinarily bad influence on you. You're not going to be seeing him after this is all over."

Not going to be seeing him? What did that mean? Had this mistake of a human being done something to Kyle?

I started to panic. I tried to control my breathing, but by this point I'd started hyperventilating again. On an impulse I stood, trying to distance myself from the cop, but my knees buckled and I collapsed onto the floor, in tears, my arm suspended painfully by the cuff. I was suddenly so terrified of what may have happened to Kyle that when I tried to repeat that I refused to write until I saw him, the only thing that came out through my sobbing was a hoarse whisper.

The cop inched closer and looked down at me. For the first time, he actually appeared angry. Something about my whole reaction to what he'd said about Kyle had made him lose some of his self-control.

"No, you are going to write that book," he demanded, glaring spitefully. "Every day that you don't make progress is another day you don't eat. So if you're planning on stalling, you better enjoy this meal. It'll be your last."

With this, he grabbed the plate of still only half-eaten steak and set it roughly onto the floor at my feet.

"And another thing," he added, aglow with this new display of anger. "I'm sick and tired of the Home Guard always being portrayed as the bad guys in your book. Cops aren't all like that. Maybe there are a couple of bad-apple Jasons out there. Fine. But we're not all like that. Especially not people like Shawn. You haven't made Shawn's character even close to realistic. My wife left me, and, I'll tell you, it's not an easy thing to go through. But that's not how people like Shawn react."

The cop stood to leave, then, as an afterthought, he snatched the fork and knife from the plate, depriving me, apparently, of potential weapons and leaving me to eat with my hands. He took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself as he lay the handcuffs key on the pillow.

"Look. Bailey, your book is very well-written." He paused as he grabbed the door knob to leave. "It's going to be published someday. I'm certain of that. And when it is, I don't want all the 'cops' to be portrayed as just a bunch of assholes." He turned to look at me almost pleadingly, then he nodded. "At least not Shawn," he said. "Got it? When Shawn comes back into the story, at least make him look good for once. And make sure Ashley does right by him before this is all over."

He stepped out the door, then slammed it behind him and locked it.