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Rated: 13+ · Novella · Romance/Love · #1002211
Can a woman survive a Northrup moment? Was it just infatuation? Prologue.
A Northrup Moment
PROLOGUE


John Northrup didn't walk; he swaggered, carrying his entire identity in a confident stride, for everyone to see. It seemed he existed to be noticed. His shoes alone probably cost him a month's salary, and they were never scuffed. His hair had the slightly tousled look of a man just coming off an airplane. He probably spent an hour getting it that way.

A small frown appeared on Laurel's face as she looked at the suit that fit perfectly. The only thing missing was a flower in his lapel. Had it been there, one would not know if he was coming to work or going to a party. The big bosses at the Richmond Sun Times loved him but so did those in the lower ranks, not an easy thing she supposed. He broke the rules often and got away with it. She wasn't sure if he was an ethical man but, whatever he was, he covered it with a sort of loopy, side-ways smile which made him appear to be on the side of right and good. She hated to admit it, but she had a bit of a soft spot for him herself although she would never let him know it. The last thing she needed in her life was Mr. Personality. Been there, done that, she thought, frown lines growing deeper on her face.

"Am I glad to see you," Northrup said.

"Oh yeah?" she said, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah."

He began swooping down and over her at the table like a big whooping crane.

"Why are you here, Northrup? I mean it's the middle of the night, it's raining, won't you get your hair wet?"

"I just love it when you talk dirty," he said as he grinned.

She elbowed him, hard. He laughed. This was not their typical banter, and she realized she was having a Northrup moment. He had decided to honor her with his presence for some reason. There must be a story after all.

"Lance caught it," he said.

"Caught what?"

At that moment, Lance himself walked in, and Northrup stood up to his 6'4" height and walked toward him.

"Oh no, you don't," Laurel thought as she jumped up from her chair and followed him.

"What did you find?" Northrop asked Lance as he took Laurel's elbow.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Lance sneered. "Hello, Laurel, what brings you out in the middle of the night?"

"I did," Northrup said smugly.

"Liar, you did no such thing." Laurel pulled her arm away from his side and moved closer to Lance. "I heard the call on the radio as I was driving down Parham on my way home. What's going on anyway?"

"There's been another rape at St. Joan's." Lance said, "fourth one, and the cops don't have a clue. This man just walks in and takes her out of the place, lickety split. No one sees anything; no one hears anything."

"How is she, who is she?" Laurel asked, feeling a bit unnerved. Her mother was a nurse at St. Joan's, and she knew every employee there was strung tight over the string of rapes at the hospital, always on the 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift.

"Don't know much yet. The woman worked in medical records, 35 years old maybe, average looking, single. She's pretty shook up, but she will be OK, at least physically. She's got the usual lash marks. She told the ER doctor this guy had some kind of black cord he used to beat her with. I don't get it. He beats them up, takes their clothes and leaves them with their car keys."

"He forced her to take her own car, then, just like the others?" Norhrup questioned.

"Yep," said Lance.

"Where is she now," Laurel asked?

"She's in the hospital on the psych unit, not going wild but not wrapped really tight either," Lance said as he started backing away.

"Look, it's nice chatting and all but I have to get this written up to make the morning news. I'd like to stand around doing nothing like you guys, but some people work for a living." He sauntered off, leaving Northrup with the look of a man with an idea, on his face.

"Gotta go loverly," he said, leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, no, you don't," Laurel said, "I'm going with you."

"No you're not," he said, "you'll just get in my way."

"I'm going, with you or without you," she said, fishing in her jacket pocket for her car keys.

Northrup walked away with his long stride, and she walked behind at her own pace. "You'll see," she said under her breath. "Sexy smile or not, I'm going to break this case and report it first. It will be my claim to fame."



© Copyright 2005 Iva Lilly Durham (crankee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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