CHAPTER TWO
. . . .
. . .
Juliet was about to shut down her laptop for the day when her cell rang, and she was pleased to see Carlton's name on the screen.
He had left this morning for a law enforcement conference where he'd be one of the speakers, his topic centered on in-department training of new Academy graduates. It was quite a nice little notch in his resume, although he'd groused about having to spend four nights in Sacramento.
"What's up, partner?"
"O'Hara, I need a favor. Kind of a big one."
"I'm not doing all your paperwork while you're away," she said cheerfully.
He snorted. "That wouldn't be a 'favor.' It'd be more on the lines of donating a kidney."
"Ironically, that I would do."
His prep for the conference had caused him to fall behind on his monthly reports, a failing Chief Vick had overlooked for the short term because his success at the conference would reflect well on her entire station. Juliet would have helped, but had landed some rather complex cases which made it impossible, and she felt guilty about it as a reflex, because she was still feeling a little guilty about the past year despite considerable improvements in the past three months.
Carlton said, "Interesting," with an obvious smile, one she could feel if not see. "This is more mundane. I left my laptop at home."
"Oh no… wait. Did you want me to drive it up there?"
"No," he said at once. "Nothing like that. I'd just like you to go to my condo, turn on the laptop and find and email me the presentation and some other files. I borrowed a laptop from the hotel so all I need is the data."
Much better, though a 'free' trip to Sacramento wouldn't be so bad, and Carlton outside of work—even anxious about a big presentation—was always a treat: less tense, less grumpy.
"That's not really on the same level as a kidney, you know."
"Count your blessings. So, can you…" He cleared his throat. "Is Vick still there?"
A touch uncomfortable now. "Yep. I'll call you from the condo in a little bit, okay?"
"Thanks, O'Hara. I owe you bigtime."
Not really, she thought grimly, and went down the hall to the Chief's office, where she found Karen Vick packing up for the day.
"Detective, I certainly hope that whatever you need won't take more than the thirty seconds remaining before I go home to my family?"
"It shouldn't. I, um, just have to run by Carlton's condo to send him the presentation info from his laptop."
Karen frowned, partly distracted by shutting down her own laptop. "And you're telling me this because you want me to worry about his presentation bombing?"
"No." She calmed herself, disturbed that she was so disturbed. "I need your key to his place."
Karen's dark brown gaze focused on her now. "You don't have a key?"
Uh-oh. "You don't have one?"
"Yes, I have one. But I thought mine was the backup to the backup. Where's yours?"
Juliet felt a little sick. "Um…"
"Because you used to have one, I know that. Just like he has a backup key to your place. Right?"
"Yes, of course he does." Of course he did. He didn't have to worry about whether she trusted him.
"Then…?"
When Karen was interested in an answer, she didn't give up her query until she got it. Sometimes she accomplished this quest with only a look… a look exactly like the one she was giving Juliet right now.
Juliet gave up and sank into the chair, and with a sigh, Karen sat down in hers, but kept her hand on her shoulder bag to make it clear she really wasn't staying very long.
"A few months ago Shawn needed to pick up some DVDs from my apartment. We were knee-deep in work here, so I gave him my key ring and made him promise to bring it right back."
Karen said nothing, but her expression was all skepticism.
"He did… I mean, it was a couple of hours, but he did bring it back. The problem was he made a kind of… snide comment in front of Carlton about the fact that I had his condo key." She swallowed. "He implied he'd taken the time to go over there and snoop around."
"I see where this is going," Karen said flatly. "Did he snoop?"
"Honestly, I just don't know. Needless to say, Carlton was livid, and immediately changed his locks."
"Can't blame him for that."
"I don't."
She was still upset with Shawn about it, and now, after the prank call smackdown three months back, it felt like one more way she'd let Carlton down. "It took me a few weeks to realize he'd never given me the new spare, and I think the only reason he told me was so I'd know you had it now."
Shaking her head slightly, Karen opened her drawer and fished out an envelope from which she drew a key. "Do you think he blames you?"
"No." Juliet hesitated. "Not specifically, no. But he can't trust Shawn, and I'm with Shawn, so…. Anyway, I feel terrible about it. I wanted to punch Shawn in the nose that day."
"Why didn't you?" Her arched eyebrow suggested she wasn't entirely kidding, as she slid the key across the desk.
"I'm supposed to use my powers for good," Juliet said dryly, taking the key as she stood up. "Thanks. I'll bring it back to you tomorrow, and Shawn will never know it's in my possession, I swear."
"I'm not the one you should be swearing to, O'Hara." Vick rose, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You picked a pretty dark horse in Spencer, and there's a price to be paid for that."
This she already knew, because she'd been paying quite awhile.
. . . .
. . .
Carlton's condo was dim and cool, and she didn't feel like turning on the lights.
Cool like Carlton, she thought, locking the door behind her because he'd want it that way and because frankly she didn't trust Shawn not to turn up and ruin everything (and that is a fine way to think of the man you're dating).
Getting out her phone, she called her partner, who answered midway through the first ring.
"O'Hara. You ready?"
"Yep. Where'd you stash the laptop?"
"Where I wouldn't miss it on my way out this morning," he said dryly. "The middle of the dining room table."
Laughing, she spotted the offending item and sat down at the table to open and start it up. "Do I need a password to log in?"
He hesitated. She was about to assure him he could trust her to keep it secret when he said, "No. I figured as many times as Spencer's hacked into it at work, I should save myself the trouble."
Her heart sank. Damn Shawn. Damn him! "I'm sorry, Carlton."
"Not your fault." He was brisk now, and told her where she could find the PowerPoint presentation, asking her to open it up and make sure it was functional.
She knew it would be—Carlton took this sort of thing very seriously—and then he asked her to find a few backup documents just in case. Most of them were named "Stats" or "Statistics," with dates, and he talked her through to find the folder where they were stored.
"Got it. Hang on while I open up the browser to get to my email."
He said evenly, "Just use mine."
Now it was her turn to hesitate. It had to be hard enough for him to let her into the laptop—but to open his email program? That was almost… too much trust, after the past year, and she felt she needed to show him she respected his privacy and the boundaries all adults should have with each other.
"It's okay—I already have the page up." She swiftly keyed in her login and password and attached the PowerPoint and all the files starting with 'stat.' "Emailing it now. I CCed it to myself to have at home, in case any of them don't open for you later."
"Thanks. Let me see if they come through?"
She said yes, and asked him about the weather up there, and felt suddenly that he was so much further away than merely Sacramento. A completely unexpected pang of missing him struck her, and maybe that wasn't so unusual: they did spend countless hours together daily.
After a minute, Carlton confirmed that the files arrived successfully. He thanked her with a warmth she was also unprepared for. "I owe you, Juliet."
"Please; this was easy. You might have wanted me to drive six hours up there. Emailing you some files is nothing!"
He called me Juliet.
So rare was that—so rare—that she couldn't even hear what he said next, except it sounded like more gratitude, so she made an appropriate response without having any idea what she was even saying.
"Let me know how it goes," she did manage. "And buy me a postcard."
He said he would, which meant he would, and before he asked, she assured him she'd lock up and get the key back to Chief Vick in the morning.
With almost no pause, Carlton said, "Keep it."
Why did that make her heart thud?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
That was all; just 'yes.'
"Carlton…"
"O'Hara, it was never about not trusting you. You know that, right?"
"Guilt by association," she murmured.
"Maybe. Besides, I'm sure he's rifled through Vick's desk more than once over the years."
She was about to deny it—surely Shawn would not be so effing stupid—when she remembered one of their early conversations: he'd called her from Karen's office while sitting in her chair and openly reading her day planner. She remembered another time when she caught him coming out having just questioned a witness in a case he wasn't supposed to be involved in, misrepresenting himself as a cop to do so.
The sick-with-dread feeling she'd become all too familiar with lately rose up and took her breath away for a moment.
You have been so stupid.
"Let's hope not. I'll take good care of your key, Carlton. And I'll do what I can to corral Shawn."
"Lotsa luck," he said mildly. "Thanks again for doing this. I really do owe you. Coffee for two weeks and a box of ammo."
Juliet laughed, feeling better suddenly. "Deal. Call me tomorrow after the presentation, okay?"
He agreed, and Juliet turned off his laptop and went home to ponder the greater mysteries of herself and her choice of boyfriend.
. . . .
. . .
It was midnight when she woke… for the second time. Sleep was no friend of hers tonight.
She still felt uneasy. She felt as if bits of her life were shifting around her to reveal things she didn't want to see, about herself and about her relationship with Shawn, and ultimately about her relationship with Carlton: what it had been, and what it was now.
Truly, they had come back from the edge of disaster created on Prank Call night. She was making every effort to rebuild his faith in her—to be worthy of it—but there was still a way to go. Having to ask Karen Vick for the condo key; having to explain why she'd lost her right to it—having to lay out for another person the truth that she had no influence on her boyfriend, who was quite often, for lack of a better word, a jerk—that had been hard. Embarrassing. Distressing.
She knew she wasn't to blame for Shawn's actions and she knew Carlton would agree. But she was still The Girlfriend.
Of a jerk.
Willingly.
So what did that say about her? And did others see her the way she was more frequently seeing herself?
Restless, she rolled out of bed and went to the kitchen to make a cup of herbal tea. While the kettle was heating, she turned on her laptop to check her mail, since sleep was standoffish.
The files she'd CCed to her account were sitting in her inbox, and she downloaded them to have a look. Carlton hadn't had much chance to show her what he'd been working on for the conference, but the man definitely knew how to organize a PowerPoint, and she was curious to see the finished product.
She was ready for a second cup of tea before she finished scrolling through the presentation—crisp, detailed, informative—but instead of more tea she took a look at the other files she'd emailed him.
With names like Statistics_2012, StatsExpl_2011, and StatsTrainEval, she was able to figure out their contents from their names (mostly), but Statler wasn't immediately clear so she opened that one.
It was a text file, or a chat log, and she wondered if it was something to do with one of the rookies but… but no. It was something else entirely.
StatlerPsyD: We recommend logging so you can review the conversation later.
CL: It's on. I should tell you up front that I look at you people as more dangerous than helpful in my line of work.
StatlerPsyD: I appreciate your candor. Why dangerous, exactly?
CL: Because you can keep a man from doing the job he's best suited for. A simple flick of the pen and a good cop's career is finished.
StatlerPsyD: Do you think that's their intention?
CL: No. But it can be the result.
StatlerPsyD: Then why are you consulting me?
CL: Because you can't directly affect my career, and I know I need to talk to someone.
Juliet let out a breath, and knew she had to stop reading right now.
The lines of text were date-stamped six weeks ago, and this was none of her business.
StatlerPsyD: Let's get some background first about your work and your life. Just the highlights about who you think you are.
CL: A detective, first and foremost. Head of the squad in my station and damn proud of it. Divorced five years now. No kids. No pets. Wouldn't mind a dog if I could train it to take down squirrels.
StatlerPsyD: OK. Is your divorce related to your job?
CL: More to our lack of compatibility. I hung on too long but it was no good. Otherwise no personal life to speak of and that's okay.
StatlerPsyD: Is it?
CL: It's what I have. Work and a few outside interests, most of which relate somehow to the job.
StatlerPsyD: Is your question today about your relationships or your work or…?
Juliet swallowed, and started to close the file. She had no right to read this, and she needed to delete the file—a file he'd be horrified to think was in her hands, no matter how much he probably did trust her—and forget everything.
CL: It's about my partner.
Her fingers went numb. Forget closing the file.
StatlerPsyD: Your work partner?
CL: Yes. Seven years. We're nothing alike. She's a hell of a lot nicer than I am, but we've managed to ride out our differences all this time.
StatlerPsyD: Why do you say you're not nice?
CL: If you knew me, you wouldn't have to ask. I'm not warm and fuzzy. I like rules and structure and I don't do well with disorder and gray areas when it comes to doing my job. I don't want to be coddled or to coddle and I expect people to uphold my high standards for law enforcement.
StatlerPsyD: Is your partner like you?
CL: She has the high standards but she works better with people. She believes you can get further with a kind word and a gun; I only need the gun.
StatlerPsyD: That's very amusing. Is there anything more personal between you?
Really. Stop Reading This Now.
Juliet heard the voice in her head, and the voice spoke true despite its panicky timbre, and she resolutely moved the cursor toward the X button to close the file.
Yet her traitorous, helpless gaze was still locked to the screen.
StatlerPsyD: CL? Is that a difficult question?
CL: No. There's nothing personal between us.
StatlerPsyD: I've worked with cops before. I understand the depth of connection between partners.
CL: We have that.
StatlerPsyD: And?
CL: That's all.
StatlerPsyD: "All" is pretty vague.
CL: We're partners. The problem is trust.
The familiar sick feeling rose again.
StatlerPsyD: Something happened to make you question whether you should trust her?
CL: No. I trust her completely. There's only been one time in seven years when she acted in a way to make me question my trust in her.
And Juliet knew exactly what it was. She remembered the anger and the frustration and her eventual profound understanding that he was right the whole time: concealing her relationship with Shawn, simply because it was Shawn, had been grossly unfair to Carlton.
StatlerPsyD: Then…?
CL: But I don't think she trusts me anymore, and that's why I'm here. I need to know how I can get past knowing her trust is gone. I need to know if there's a way to keep the partnership alive, or whether I should give it up.
Juliet was appalled and confused. Not trust him? He was the rock of her life: why the hell would he think she didn't trust him? Her heart was pounding and she felt cold from head to toe.
StatlerPsyD: Giving up a seven-year partnership is a big thing. Have you talked to her about this issue?
CL: No, and I won't unless I have to.
StatlerPsyD: OK. Well, obviously every case is different, and circumstances do matter. Can you explain why you think she doesn't trust you?
CL: Will there be a warning before my credit card maxes out?
StatlerPsyD: :-) Say what you are able to say.
CL: We had a fight a couple weeks ago. Bad one. Her boyfriend is the kind of guy who has to be in everyone's business, and he really likes being in mine. Prankster, no respect for personal space or boundaries. Asshat, really.
StatlerPsyD: You argued over her boyfriend?
CL: He prank calls me. Been doing it for years. The night of the fight, she was there while he was doing it and she acted as if it was no big deal even though a) it's a federal offense and b) businesses were being defrauded and oh yeah c) I was being harassed.
Such a bad night. The memory came flooding back.
StatlerPsyD: Was she perhaps trying to downplay it to get you to cool off?
CL: I don't know. The asshat consults for the department. He's been in a thorn in my side since before she even came to town, and she knows it.
StatlerPsyD: What was the nature and outcome of the argument?
CL: I vented. I told her it seemed like she didn't have much use for me anymore and be that as it may, I wouldn't tolerate his antics even if it meant she got caught in the middle professionally.
StatlerPsyD: What was her reaction?
CL: She was upset but more about me questioning our partnership. The next day we talked about it again and I guess we made up.
StatlerPsyD: You guess?
CL: I don't really go into a lot of detail about emotions with other people.
Here, surprisingly, Juliet found herself smiling. He was self-aware enough to know he hated being self-aware.
StatlerPsyD: I see. So your original question about trust relates to this incident?
CL: Yeah. Since then she's been trying. I mean, I can *see* she's trying.
StatlerPsyD: To do what?
CL: To… I don't know. To be SuperPartner? I think she doesn't trust what I said. When I told her I wouldn't go through with my threat to bring her down with him if he didn't stop the pranks. I think she's afraid I'd really go after her.
Taking a deep breath, and feeling inexpressibly cold, Juliet told herself futilely to stop reading. He was wrong, but his belief in this wrong assumption was clear.
StatlerPsyD: Would you?
CL: Hell no. She deserves better. He does what he wants and it's not her fault.
StatlerPsyD: But you think she doesn't trust you'll keep your word?
CL: Yeah. I think she wants to protect him so badly that she'll treat me with kid gloves. It's like she thinks I could snap at any minute and she has to keep him safe from me.
"Oh, Carlton," she whispered. "We've gotten so off track."
StatlerPsyD: May I ask what your other loss-of-trust incident was during your partnership?
StatlerPsyD: CL?
CL: When they started dating, she kept it from me. I found out accidentally and I didn't handle it well. She said it was none of my business.
StatlerPsyD: I suspect you're leaving out a lot.
CL: Yeah.
StatlerPsyD: Give me a chance to understand.
CL: It's not like when she dated before. I handled that okay. But this guy—look, I'm not the only one who thinks he's an ass. And we work together. For her to keep it from me felt wrong, like a half-dozen simultaneous slaps upside the head. For her to be so angry when I called her on it felt even worse. I didn't want to be partnered with someone who had to lie to me about a personal relationship because she couldn't trust me to react right.
Dammit, now she had to blow her nose. STOP READING, she pleaded with herself.
Herself didn't listen.
StatlerPsyD: Did you really want a new partner, after all those years?
CL: No.
StatlerPsyD: Did she?
CL: She fought me on it. Our boss said no anyway.
And thank God for that, Juliet thought. Vick—whose refusal was motivated more by irritation than prescience—had done her a favor even if it did mean sitting here right now hurting.
StatlerPsyD: How long ago was this?
CL: Over a year.
StatlerPsyD: Did the situation improve? You said you trust her completely.
CL: I do.
StatlerPsyD: But? You don't think she trusts you? She didn't want a new partner, so she must have thought there was something to salvage there.
CL: She's stubborn.
StatlerPsyD: That seems facile, CL. Stubborn enough to keep a partner she doesn't trust?
CL: Maybe not. But she obviously doesn't think I'm worth telling the truth to about him.
"Wrong," she murmured. "So wrong."
StatlerPsyD: Is it possible she wanted to keep her private life private from everyone, and not just you? Or that knowing you have problems with him, she was actually shielding you?
CL: I'd like to think so. But I still remember how she looked when I confronted her. That wasn't shielding. It was anger. And I think she still feels that way at least a little, and since I went off on him about the prank calls, I think she feels like she has to protect him. Because I'm the enemy.
Another tissue. Her head ached as much as her heart did now.
StatlerPsyD: This is a harsh view. Is she a person who holds grudges, or behaves underhandedly?
CL: No.
StatlerPsyD: You're painting an uneven picture of your partner. You trust her, but think she doesn't trust you. You say she's shielding her boyfriend from you, but she resisted getting a new partner when she had the chance. You seem to value her and admit to the bond of partnership, but you don't want to talk to her about this, instead choosing an anonymous conversation with an Internet psychologist. I have to conclude you don't trust her nearly as much as you say you do.
CL: I DO trust her.
StatlerPsyD: Not to be your partner in all aspects of the job, however. You understand? That's not how trust works in a career like yours. You don't trust her to be your partner.
StatlerPsyD: CL?
CL: Because she doesn't trust me to be her friend.
Juliet sat up straight, staring at the screen through a mist of tears.
StatlerPsyD: Now we have direction.
CL: Peachy.
StatlerPsyD: You value your friendship as much as your partnership, and I'm sure you understand trust should lace both together.
CL: Yeah.
StatlerPsyD: And you understand what you're telling me is somewhat convoluted, but then again we are dealing with the human mind and heart.
CL: Your point?
StatlerPsyD: Let me ask you one more time, to get this settled, because I can't help you if you're not honest with both yourself and me. Do you have romantic feelings for your partner?
StatlerPsyD: We don't have to analyze them here. But if you acknowledge them, we can factor them into a discussion of the broader issue.
StatlerPsyD: CL.
She realized she was holding her breath, and that Carlton's answer at the top of the next page could change everything.
StatlerPsyD: CL, this is an important point to establish.
CL: Yes.
StatlerPsyD: Yes, what?
CL: Yes. I have romantic feelings for my partner.
CL: Damn you.
. . . .
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