Two chapters in less than a week? I think that's a new record. Haven't written a whole chapter in over three years. Cripes. Anyway, thanks to my good friend tarheelveteran for the review! Hopefully I catch some more interest with the reveal of the mysterious redheaded woman introduced in the last chapter. You'll notice that I say "colour". I'm Canadian. So sue me. Although I do refuse to say "Centre". You don't say it "sen-tray", so why spell it that way? Anyway. Enjoy!


Chapter Two

Natalia and Ryan shared a brief look, turned their heads to Asshole, and then back to the woman. From what Natalia could tell by sitting next to her, the auburn hair did not come from a box of dye and her eyes were a colour that had seemed to get caught in between navy blue and grass green. She had a tan that stood out against the reflection of the snow, and Natalia could see the letters of a tattoo poking out from the half rolled-up sleeves of her black leather jacket. And she looked extremely pissed off.

"You look like you were somewhere warm," said Natalia, testing the waters.

The woman's eyes never left Asshole's face. "I was in Puerto Rico for the past three weeks."

"Vacation?"

"I have a house there."

Ryan leaned forward, placing his right arm onto Asshole's armrest. "So you got money then, eh?"

Natalia sent her male counterpart a why-the-hell-did-you-say-that look.

The redhead seemed to shrug the question off, like she'd been asked it on numerous occasions. "Inheritance."

"Must be nice," Asshole finally spoke, his eyes never leaving the page.

"Fuck off."

Wide-eyed, Natalia looked to Ryan for support; the woman seated next to her had a big, nasty attitude hidden beneath her petite frame.

"We're from the crime lab," Ryan said. "CSIs Ryan Wolfe and Natalia Boa Vista."

"That's nice."

Ryan gave a defeated shrug and leaned back in his seat. Asshole let out a huff, threw the paper at Ryan's face and gestured to the woman.

"This is Renae Richardson. Arson Investigator." Asshole met the woman's eyes. "As you probably guessed, we trained and worked together, and she's the bitch who gave me the name you all have adopted for me."

Renae smirked and fingered him. "I could have given you a much worse name, so be grateful."

"Like what? Douche-Lord?"

"No, that's the Fed's name. You know that."

Asshole slapped his forehead and made a sarcastic "ah-ha" face. "I knew I had heard that name before!"

Natalia felt herself inching closer to the window. Her eyes met Ryan's, and the same thought went through both of their minds: They were supposed to survive a thirteen hour train ride with these two? Ryan buried his head behind the newspaper that Asshole had thrown at him, and Natalia quietly pulled her iPod from her purse. Renae and Asshole were deadlocked in a staring contest that radiated tension, anger and resentment.

The train lurched forward suddenly, and they slowly began to exit the station. Wind pelted the snow against the windows, turning it into slush and creating a fog on the inside. Natalia kept flicking her eyes to the two arson investigators, who continued to stare at each other. She'd never heard of Renae, considering she had worked in Miami for what seemed like awhile. However, the pronunciation of her last name stumped Natalia; it sounded familiar. "Rye-card-son" wasn't a typical last name, and it especially stood out to the CSI for some reason.

A light bulb went off in the Natalia's head, and she muted her iPod. "Are you Lara's sister?"

Renae broke the trance with Asshole, and eyed the other woman. "Yes. She's my older sister."

"So you know the Delko's?" Eric's parents lived across the street from Lara, who was the district attorney. No one quite knew why the DA who drove a Bentley lived in the suburbs in a three-bedroom house with no pool, when she could clearly afford a place on the beachfront and then some.

Asshole made a face, and Renae shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yes."

Ryan's attention had been caught. "So you know Eric?"

Renae paused, and they could see the wheels turning in her head. After an awkward eternity, she simply replied, "We haven't talked in a long time."

Natalia left it at that, as Renae's eyes portrayed a future of one of them getting strangled if they were to press further. Ryan apparently didn't take the cue.

"So you slept with him?"

"Who hasn't?" Renae shrugged, turned to Natalia, and gave her a once-over. "You certainly have."

Natalia didn't know what to say, and Ryan didn't seem to think it was a big deal and went back to reading the newspaper. Asshole was the only one grinding his teeth and looking exceedingly annoyed at the mention of his nemesis. Renae shot him another smile, and he grimaced.

"You're such a pain in the ass," said Asshole.

Renae gave him a kick to the shin. "I'm the one who's supposed to be mad at you, Underwood."

His face read "unimpressed" and he crossed his arms. "All I have to say is 'Boston Travelodge' and you're done for."

"That's not fair. I'm the collector of blackmail."

"Ouch. It hurts me that the going-ons that happened there are considered blackmail."

Natalia, sensing another argument, shut off her iPod, shoved it into her purse, and stood from the seat. She then excused herself. "I'm going to go find the washroom."

"Turn left and it's at the end of this car." Renae said, once-again locked in a staring contest with Asshole.

Carefully making her way out of the crowded space, Natalia slipped into the aisle, turned left, and began her trek to the washroom. It was located on the left side of the back of the railcar, stuffed in the corner. She entered the small contraption, locked the door, and dropped her purse onto the counter. When finished her business, she washed and dried her hands, fixed her hair, and opened the door to exit the washroom. On her way out, another passenger bumped into her, apologized, and scurried into the bathroom.

"That was weird," Natalia said to herself, frowning, and returned to her seat.

Renae and Asshole had apparently called a cease-fire and were now preoccupying themselves with books. Thankful for the calm, Natalia shifted into a comfortable position in her seat, and dug through her purse for her iPod.

"Ryan? Did I leave my iPod here?" she asked after about a minute. She had emptied out the bag, and through the makeup items, gum packet and wallet she had found no iPod.

He rustled the paper. "No. Pretty sure you took it with you. You spent five minutes trying to wrap the headphones around it."

"But it's not in my purse."

"Maybe you dropped it."

It was a possibility, so Natalia rose from her seat and retraced her steps to the washroom. It was unoccupied, so she entered it and scanned the floor. No iPod. On her way back down the aisle, she skimmed over people's own electronic devices and attempted to look under their seats without having to crouch. She then sat back down in their seating area.

"Find it?" Ryan asked.

"No, but someone did bump into me on my way leaving the washroom."

Renae craned her neck towards the aisle, giving herself a view of the other passengers. She then said quietly, "Maybe they stole it."

This troubled Natalia, as now she had nothing to block out the imminent arguments that were to come and the noise of the train scraping along the tracks. Most worrisome, was that she hadn't gotten a good look at the person who had bumped into her. It had definitely been a man's voice, but she couldn't pin it to a certain age group other than adult. Natalia then did as Renae had, and viewed the other passengers. Women and men, all different ages, from all different backgrounds, from all different cities. And one of them was potentially a thief.