The death of Janet Medrano, the State's Attorney who was killed by escaped prisoner, Hank Kerner, for her part in his prosecution, devastated more than her parents and her dear friends like Calleigh Duquesne. Unknown to anyone was the loss felt by Horatio Caine. When he'd first heard about it, he was in the middle of a crime scene investigating Emma Kaye's kidnapping and could do nothing abouthis shock, anger or sadness. As Calleigh expressed her grief and anger at the loss over the phone, Horatio could only expresshis sympathy for her. When she'd ended the call, he'd handed the phone back to Eric, and the day had continued.
At work, it was all about the job, solving the mystery, so, as usual, he locked his personal feelings in a place so far away, sometimes even he had a hard time gaining access. Keeping his feelings, his own emotions, from crashing in, taking over, drowning him entirely, was the struggle he dealt with every day; it's what had gotten him into so much trouble as a teenager dealing with his father's abuse, why he wouldn't risk dealing with them on the job.
The catastrophe wasn't just losing a tender lover, a beautiful woman that delighted every sense, but losing the relationship that had been filling the need he'd had for a long time, the yearning for peace and trust, and along with it, a sense of contentment. She had seemed to be the perfect match for him and he'd been very hopeful, so very hopeful.
What, about her, wasn't pleasing? That voice, to begin with; easy to compare to warm chocolate sauce because of her skin color, but then he'd think how, within the warm contralto, he heard highlights of tone that brought to mind children giggling on a playground, waterfalls deep in a rain forest, and even the smell of bread, baking in an oven, while women talked at the kitchen table. He liked thinking about her voice as he drove to the field, recreating it in his mind, analyzing the qualities, which gave him a feeling of serenity. Then, arriving at a scene, as he opened the door to the Hummer, he'd put the thoughts of her voice safely, far away and feel the lock click shut as the car door closed and he'd be free to be with the puzzle of a new crime.
No one but her parents had known of their relationship yet, though Janet was certain some peoplesuspected something. They'd giggled in bed over what others would think of Janet's youth, Horatio's maturity and especially the color difference. They'd had to laugh about it because they sure weren't going to let it stop them.
She said she adored him because of his surprising tenderness and the way he made her feel whenever she felt his eyes on her, and they both thought they were a wonderful physical match, being nearly the same height and contrastingly complimentary in each other's color tones. They found one another endlessly fascinating not only in conversation but physically. Though she was not quite as experienced romantically as he, she more than made up for it in her desire to get to 'know' him from head to toe. It got so he was not surprised, when he'd wake from a post-lovemaking doze, to find her just staring at some part of his anatomy, even his fingers. She'd once declared he had twenty-three hairs on the first knuckle of the middle finger of his left hand. A woman who could freely expound on the laws of Florida by code and section had counted the hairs on his knuckle!
Of course, early in the relationship,he had tested her, verified the trust he wanted to feel for her. He'd told her harmless bits about cases that would be passing into her hands, waited to see if they came up in her documents, or was used in any way, whether she questioned him later on matters based purely on his spoken word, and was gratified to find any references she ever made came from documented evidence from the lab. It was as if, she too had a place where she locked away information which was based on personal sources.
And then besides that trust, he discovered thathe could have absolute confidence in her,whichcamefrom her unfailing ability to live up to anything she agreed to and to never agree to anything she would not, could not live up to.
The clincher came when he realized that she'd tested him as well, not only on whether he valued her feelings but to see if he would trade on her relationship with childhood friend, Calleigh, or any other of their mutual acquaintances, in any way. In short, she hadn't just fallen for him because he was the Mighty Horatio Caine, well known CSI Hero, as many women had done, not just because he'd treated her with respect and sweetness but also because he'd proven himself.
Only after their fourth date did she confess that she had had mixed feelings about seeing him in the first place, wouldn't have accepted if he had approached her and asked her out, say, at a party; his age, his relationship with Calleigh, his profession, all would have been barriers for her. If their first date hadn't been purely by accident, nothing between them would ever have occurred.Acase she'd been on that he'd beenabout to testify for was rescheduled at the last minute; they'd met in the hallway, to mourn over the chance to end the case there and then.It turned out thatboth were starving, and after ten minutes of conversation over sandwiches, they were both more than intrigued with each other. Of course, they immediately started eyeing each other's physical attributes, especially the heights, and the rest, as they say–.
And the love making, oh lordy, the fabulous, glorious, wonderful love making! That had just started, just two weeks before her death. For three months he had courted her, taken her out, met her parents, enjoyed her company, found he would not, could not stop seeing her. Perhaps it was just that first blush of a new relationship, finding this new person that can do no wrong, feeling like the sky is bluer, the air is cleaner and all is right with the world, that made the first encounter with her seem so thrilling he could hardly stand it, but it certainly seemed like it was just because she was perfect. She seemed to feel the same about him and the only reason they didn't make love more often was because they both had jobs that kept interfering. Of course, each time had lasted several hours, was definitely not Slam!-Bam!-Thank you, Ma'am.
Her figure, at first glance, he'd discovered, was very deceptive; it was all right but nothing to wow about. Of course, her five foot, eleven inches always brought stares and she had a terrific personality but still, just a so-so figure. Then, after that first, sweet time of love making, when he'd finally taken a good look at his conquest, he'd been awed. He'd heard of the phenomenon of some women looking great only in clothing and some looking better naked but here was irrefutable proof. Naked, Janet was a hugely spectacular site to behold. Was it the legs, which seemed to be ninety percent of her? Perhaps, but then, the shape of her breasts definitely caused his heart, and more, to stir. Possibly the correlation of one part to another, was the answer; some sort of artistic perfection, each part sublime, which increased exponentially as it was all put together; the breasts with the shoulders, with waist with the flare of the hips and belly, all on top of those legs. He didn't know the answer but was fascinated by the subject.
Ah, and definitely there were the legs; not just the sight of them but there was the wonderful feeling he got when they were against his, whether in bed or when dancing. Oh yeah! Since dancing today is like having sex, only to music and standing up, he had gotten a very good idea of what their first encounter in bed was going to be like the night he'd taken her to one of his favorite clubs. The band played a variety of music from South and Central America but was best at Lambada and Tango beats, tempting people to strut their stuff on the small dance floor for hours at a time. He was no Dance Contest winner by any means, but felt confident with most forms and he was delighted to find she could move very well to the Latin beats. When she ended their first dance, a tango, by wrapping one leg dramatically around his, and hugging her breasts against his chest, he was much surprised. The staid State's Attorney, Janet Medrano, who'd seemed rather prim and proper till now, making a sexy move, in public? And that was just the first dance. At the end of the evening, he'd handed the band leader about four hundred dollars, knowing it would be evenly distributed among the players, because he was so grateful. He'd had to wait another month to confirm his hunch about her prowess but it was worth it.
But, aside from the great sex, the quiet talks between them had meant far more to him. He'd been able to bring up subjects he'd not dealt with in years, laid them out to her and knew they were picked up, valued and cared about. She never gave him answers unless he specifically asked, never judged unless he requested and always made it clear that any of her thoughts were nothing to be taken too seriously, more like suggestions, perhaps. She comforted him in his sadnesses, declared fellowship to his wrath and seemed to take genuine joy whenever he smiled.
In turn he felt privileged to be privy to her woes, her tribulations which, for a black girl in Miami were many. He was very impressed by her accomplishments not only in law school, but since she'd passed the bar--the first time around–but before joining the State Attorney's Office. Of course, her work as an attorney for the state was well known by many, showing she was on the rise with even a possible future as a State's Supreme Court judge. "I just have so many ideas about how justice can be better served and the bench is the only way I can see to carry through." She admitted to having a great deal to learn meanwhile and, of all things, seemed look for his approval though he couldn't possibly think better of her or approve more. She had already become perfect in his eyes.
Neither of them seemed to have any doubts about the other on the evening before that fateful day. They'd dined at her parents' home, gone for a walk on the moonlit beach where they'd talked of the future possibilities and, in bed that night, allowed themselves to dream.
When Emma's case was done and Stewart Otis, the child killer, was locked away, Horatio went home, went to bed and cried over the loss. He'd almost had it, only almost and now he was unbearably alone again.