Don't own any part of Numb3rs or any of the characters. Original characters, blah, blah, blah.
Chapter 2
Colby hoped Monday would be an improvement over the weekend. At first he thought he was going to get his wish. A screaming hot shower eased the tightness in his back and banished most of the sluggishness left over from his restless night. Between his irritation with Lennox and Gorman and his worry over Kerri, sleep had been hard to come by.
He'd gone back to her place after leaving the MDC Saturday and although Don advised against it, and Colby privately agreed that it might not be the best idea he ever had, he still dropped by Kerri's apartment after his love fest with Gorman and Lennox was finished the next day. Not only did they have an important conversation that needed finishing, but he was worried about her. If the OPR agents were giving him a hard time, was Kerri going thru the same thing, or worse?
She wasn't home either time. The half dozen phone calls he'd made in the interim also went unanswered. It left Colby with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt like Kerri was avoiding him. But that didn't make any sense. He knew she wanted to get things resolved as much as he. Ducking him didn't jibe with that.
He fretted and woolgathered thru his morning run, shower, breakfast, two cups of strong coffee, and all way down the stairs to his truck. Once on the road though, he tried to concentrate. There were enough brainless, cell phone using, book reading, breakfast eating, there's only two inches of room but I can make it and besides, nobody else matters but me and I'm late for my meeting so get out of my way drivers on L.A.'s roads already. He decided not to add himself to the list of "drive like I'm out here by myself" road warriors. That turned to be a good thing for him.
He was nearly to work, when the light of ahead of him turned green just as he approached it. Already breaking, Colby didn't have time to shift his foot back to the gas pedal when his peripheral vision registered a large, fast moving object approaching from his right side. Instinctively jamming down on the break, he spun the wheel left, turning his truck a split second before he would have been flattened by the tour bus plowing thru a red light at nearly fifty miles an hour. The bus missed him by so little that he could feel the breeze it created as the lumbering monster zoomed past. He had barely five seconds to appreciate the fact that he hadn't been transformed into FBI asphalt paste when he heard a huge crash immediately behind him. Putting his own ride in park and killing the engine, he got out to go investigate.
Sitting in the middle of the intersection, looking dazed and terrified behind the wheel of her now wrecked Toyota Camry was a middle aged woman Granger recognized as Bureau lab tech. Lucy, something. Her last name escaped him right now. It didn't matter. He needed to make sure she was ok and check on the driver of the car that had rear ended hers. On the phone to report the accident, he got to Lucy's driver's side door about the same time the 911 operator picked up.
"Hey" Granger said, reaching in to gently touch the frightened, shaking Lucy on the shoulder. "You okay, huh? You alright?"
"911. What is your emergency?" a brisk, business like voice said in his ear simultaneously.
About to answer the question, Colby was interrupted when the man who had slammed into Lucy Haines, her last name was Haines, Granger's brain picked this odd instant to supply the information, came roaring up, red-faced and belligerent.
No one who knew Rodney Hampton would use the words "considerate" "generous" or "maturely selfless" to describe him. His mother and father thought he could do no wrong. Every other human being he'd ever come into contact with in his lifetime ended up wanting to throttle Rodney. Five minutes exposure to his more sterling qualities quickly gave up the reason why.
Put simply, Rodney was a boil. A cold sore. A toothache, a nosebleed. A poster boy for jerkdom. A good portion of the time, he stood alone at the center the universe, whining for attention. Never one to lower himself by participating in the demeaning activity of actually working for a living, Rodney preferred to sponge, at age thirty-nine, off the parents who could not find it within themselves to tell him no about anything. He ate the groceries they provided for him, slept in the same room he'd had since childhood and drove their cars. (It was so irritating that he had to nag them to keep the gas tanks full!).
Fresh from wheedling a hundred bucks out of his mother so that he could spend the day cruising the city, Rodney was on his way to grab a bite to eat when the stupid cow in the five year old Camry in front of him stopped dead in her tracks. With no time to react, (he'd never admit that he'd been following to closely and not paying attention anyway), Rodney's car, actually his father's vintage cherry red Caddy convertible, mashed the Camry's fender and didn't stop until he was three quarters of the way to the other car's back seat. Rodney, taking stock of the damage, couldn't believe his eyes! No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! His beautiful Caddy! His baby! The babemobile! Ruined because of some incompetent broad's driving! No, no, no! Emerging unscathed physically, Rodney climbed out of the Cadillac, took another look at the twisted metal and completely lost his mind. He stomped up to the Camry, shoving aside some jerk in the process of reaching in to inquire about the lady behind the wheel.
"What is your problem" Rodney screamed into the woman's face. "Look what you did to my car! Look! Look what you did! How stupid are you?!" he continued, bellowing at the confused woman, spittle flying off his lips.
Colby, trying to answer the 911 operator and verify that Lucy wasn't seriously injured at the same time, suddenly had the bellicose Rodney to juggle too. He got between the other man and Lucy.
"Hey, back up! She might be hurt! Besides, she stopped 'cause she was trying to avoid hitting me! And I stopped because…"
Granger's hurried explanation got blown off in mid-sentence. Rodney, already exercised about the condition of the car he used so successfully to pick up women, and imaging the reaction of his father when he saw the vehicle's state, heard only "she stopped 'cause she was trying to avoid hitting me!" What!! What happened to his beautiful cherry chariot was because of this guy?! This goon who had him by the collar and the dumb broad were both at fault?! Rodney, who had only the flimsiest acquaintance with prudent action to begin with, lost all touch with anything remotely resembling common sense. He did something which qualified him for at least honorable mention in the moron hall of fame. He took an awkward, unpracticed, but enthusiastic, swing at Colby Granger.
Colby could certainly take a punch, and had many times before, by people much better at it that this idiot. He ducked back, letting the potential blow pass over him. Aware that the tensions of the moment might have a grip on his attacker, he took a crack at defusing the situation.
"Come on, settle down, okay? It was an accident. The most important thing is you don't seem to be hurt. Now I need to check on her, alright?!"
Rodney, still inhabiting the land of stupidity, aimed another wild haymaker in Granger's direction.
Colby was trying not to go off on this guy, but the second swing was the final straw. First his sleepless night, powered by his own problems and his worry over Kerri, then nearly getting dead courtesy of the tourism industry, and now this nimrod! He expertly intercepted the second punch well before it could reach him, twisted the swinger's arm up and back and pivoted, plastering the other man onto the hood of Lucy Haines wounded automobile. Reaching for his cuffs with the other hand, he soon had Rodney hooked up.
'Mister, you picked the wrong day to do that!" he grunted sourly. Retrieving his discarded phone, he closed it when he saw LAPD's accident investigations and an LA County paramedic unit pulling up.
As quickly as he possibly could, he identified himself to the police, gave them the scoop on the situation and saw Lucy Haines into the ambulance and Rodney Hampton into the custody of the cops. He tried to wrap the whole mess up with a minimum of bother, but he was still late to work by almost an hour. Since he'd managed to get Don on the phone, no explanation was needed when he finally arrived. It helped some, not a lot, but some.
"Hey" David Sinclair greeted him. "You ever hear of a nice quiet weekend?" his partner chided him jokingly. Sinclair could tell by Colby's body language the other was feeling tense and rushed and tried to do what he could to help. Don had filled the team in on Colby's interrogation by Lennox and Gorman. They already knew that Granger and Kerri were on the suspect list for Jackson Lucern's murder. The reaction from David, Liz and Nikki, consisted of varying degrees of indignation. David and Liz were livid, Nikki showed anger too, but somewhat less so. She didn't doubt Colby was innocent of any wrongdoing, but…
Colby, settling in to his work day, after another unsuccessful attempt to reach Kerri by phone, tried to keep his mind on the business at hand. The team was preparing for court tomorrow. A case they'd made an arrest on several months ago was finally coming to trial. A ton of prep still remained. They still needed to meet with the federal prosecutors to go over their testimony. Maybe he would get to see Kerri then.
After working away for a while, and a two hour session with the lawyers (they'd come to the FBI offices, eliminating Colby's hoped for opportunity to talk with Kerri), he urgently required another cup of coffee. He stood, bent over to stretch the kinks out, and headed for the break room. He could see David and Nikki already there.
"…Look" Nikki Bentancourt said, back to the opening door, "we all gotta admit, Granger and his girlfriend do look good for Lucern's murder. I mean, think about it. They both have great motive."
David, also with his back to his teammate and the door, gave his coffee another shot of cream before turning around. "Nikki, there is no way Colby or Kerri had anything at all to do with this, and I can't believe you'd even think otherwise for a second!" Sinclair finished, turning around.
"All I'm saying is…" Nikki stopped, noticing the chagrined look on Sinclair's face. She turned to see Colby, arms crossed, leaning against the frame, regarding her coolly from the doorway. None of the three teammates spoke for a moment.
"If there's something you want to ask me Nikki, why don't you just come on out and do that thing?"
The usually self assured Nikki hesitated. Great. Now she needed to make things right with Granger and get her foot out of her mouth. Tricky." Lousy timing, Nikki," she thought. She and Colby were finally back on an even keel after a rough patch. Questioning his ethics on a recent case resulted in a sort of guarded working environment between the two of them. Lately, things seemed to be getting better, until now.
"Come on Colby," Bentancourt began, "I'm not saying that I think you or Kerri is re-" She never got the chance to finish explaining herself.
"Let me clear it up for you" Granger cut in quietly, his raspy voice low and inflectionless, a sign, David knew, of how offended Colby was. "I'm not sorry Lucern is dead, but I didn't do it and neither did Kerri. Any of that too hard for you to get your head around?"
"Granger, all I meant was that if I was Gorman and Lennox and I was coming into this from the outside, looking for who had the best motive and all that…that's all I meant. I don't think you or Kerri killed the man. I don't" Nikki said.
"Do me a favor?" Colby asked, emerald eyes full of challenge. "When you talk to OPR, try to sound a little more convincing." He gave her a final, dry, sarcastic glance before turning on his heel and heading back to his desk, without coffee. Maybe his caffeine hit could wait after all.
Nikki watched him leave and then tried once more to explain to David Sinclair. "I really don't believe he or Kerri Walton murdered Lucern! That's the truth!"
"What a mess" Sinclair was thinking. "I know. I get it. Colby will too. Just give him some room and a little time. He's under some pressure right now. Why don't we get back to work, huh?"
They did, with Nikki giving Colby something of a wide berth. The team got thru an awkward morning.
Kerri swiftly navigated the space between Roger Kendall's office door and the elevators of the seventh floor. She was grateful for her briefcase. It gave her something to hold on to and kept her hands from noticeably shaking. Her stomach gave an ill-timed heave. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she abandoned her choice of the elevator and bolted for the ladies room.
Taking stock of her appearance in the mirror afterwards, she had to admit, she'd looked better. Shakily, she rinsed her mouth out and did what she could to repair the damage.
"Hey, Kerri, you ok?" Kathy Craig asked.
Kerri gave the paralegal a weak smile. "Yeah, uh, yes, Kath, I, I'm fine" she replied, trying to calm the tremors in her voice. Kathy didn't look convinced.
"Look, is there anything I can do to help?" Kathy had a "heart of gold" reputation around the office. Kerri knew the offer was sincere. The other woman probably knew about Kerri's current predicament. How could she not? Offices were like self-contained small towns. Gossip spread like an out of control brushfire.
"I'm okay, Kath, really. Thanks."
As gracefully as she could, Kerri made her escape, opting for the privacy of the stairs. She didn't really feel like enduring the curious stares of her coworkers in the long elevator ride to the lobby. She wasn't certain how she might react to the first person to ask her if she still had a job, although she was fairly certain slugging the questioner would be the wrong way to handle it. Getting out of the building and into her car without embarrassing herself further would have to do for now. She reached the lobby without incident and virtually ran for her silver Venza, gratefully closing and locking the door behind her. Resting her head on the seat, she felt lightheaded, like a fighter that had taken one punch too many. Her freshly concluded meeting with her boss was a fitting conclusion to the events of her fractured weekend.
Telling Colby about her connection to Mason Lancer and seeing his horrified reaction was just the beginning. She'd gotten to the office Saturday night and been greeted by investigators working for the prosecutor's office. Apparently, already considered a "person of interest", an ugly two hours of questioning failed to uncover anything linking Kerri to the slaying.
"We know neither you or your boyfriend did a 'hands on', Walton, but you both must have connections down at the MDC. Know plenty of people on both sides of the cell door who could help you set something up." Joann Hardesty, the female half of the investigative team looked Kerri up and down contemptuously. "We might not know who it is yet, but we'll find 'em. When we do, we'll be speaking with you again."
Since they had no grounds to detain her, Kerri was allowed to leave. With the past two hours ringing in her head, she drove home. Hardesty's parting shot wouldn't leave her alone. Jack's murder had nothing to do with her, or Colby. But from her own work as an ADA, Kerri knew how hard it was to prove a negative. The investigation would not turn up any evidence tying her or Colby to the death, because there was nothing to find. That wouldn't keep Hardesty or her partner from making her and Colby's lives miserable.
Kerri couldn't block out something else Bill Hume, the other investigator had thrown at her. Lucern's computer files, paper records and bank accounts were already under the microscope. His getting murdered intensified that. "If there's more motive somewhere in all of that for you or Granger to want Jackson Lucern dead, it's gonna come out."
She didn't know how Jack discovered Lancer being her natural father. With the Lucern coffers to draw upon, not to mention his own personal fortune, hiring the best private investigators seemed the most likely answer. Now that information lay buried in the flotsam of the late Jackson Lucern's personal life, waiting to be discovered by people who wouldn't hesitate to use it against her, or Colby.
Colby. She loved him so much, and yet, she just kept hurting him. She'd been attracted to him from the first. Launching into him in the parking garage that day helped keep her from having to admit the attraction to herself. Finding out who he was had really rattled her. Colby Granger. Kerri remembered his name from when news of Mason Lancer's spy ring had been splashed all over every available communications medium. Her fear of being outed as Lancer's daughter colored everything. Later, in the process of digging out evidence on another case, she'd come across a box in the evidence room at the federal retention center marked "Lancer Espionage Investigation." Unable to resist, Kerri opened the box, finding among other things, some sort of video important to the case. Without knowing why, she felt an irresistible compulsion to see what was on it. The sickening contents still haunted her. Lancer's clinical, brutal chemical torture of Colby, Colby's stoic courage, Lancer's death at the hands of Dwayne Carter. Goading Colby into an argument later that week at Charlie's Eppes dinner party was her only defense against the revulsion of that video. She never meant to have a relationship with him, for things to get this far. But they had. And now this. Being with her was hurting him. When Hardesty and Hume found out about Lancer, it would only get worse. She could only cause Colby more pain. He'd had enough of that. From Lancer and everything and everyone connected to him. That included her, didn't it? Whether she wanted to face it or not. At home when Colby came back to her apartment on Saturday, Kerri stared at the door, wanting to throw it open, grab onto him, and never let go. In place of that, she waited, nearly afraid to breathe, until he left, assuming she wasn't there. She ached to answer each one of his calls, but did not. His hurt and shock at her revelation, which he did not quite succeed in covering fast enough, kept her from seeing him the next day too. No matter what he said, his unconscious actions spoke louder. He might deny it, but there was no way that he could look at her now and not see Mason Lancer. Eventually, he would not be able to hide it.
"I love you, Colby" Kerri spoke aloud to the absent object of her feelings. "I will not let being with me cause you anymore pain. I won't." Kerri lay awake that night, making decisions.
