AN: endless, me again. No I don't speak Spanish. I used an online translator seeing as the one person I know who does actually speak the language didn't mail me back in time to get it straightened out. I know online translators are B.S and I know the phrase isn't quite correct, and for that I apologise, I'm embarrassed. But I felt it lent credibility to the story, having the perp/Ria say them in Spanish, and it's a shame the credibility has been shot to hell by my lack of thorough research. But when it comes to languages, specific wording or commonality of phrases will always be far more accurate coming from a native speaker. Can you pretend for me that it made complete sense and was perfect? I'd really appreciate that. Thank you. And sorry.
Act Three
Cal presses his lips tenderly against Gillian's neck. His hand respectfully rests on her leg, just above her knee, not daring to go any higher than that, even if he is gripping quite firmly. She's curled up against him on her couch and she closes her eyes as he murmurs something in her ear. There is low lighting. The setting is intimate. His other hand his threaded through her hair.
"Do you think Ria's going to be ok on her own tonight?"
"Can we not talk about her right now? I'm trying to work on you and me," Cal murmurs in response.
"I just mean, last night..."
Cal pulls back abruptly. "She's a strong woman. She'll be all right." He pauses to give her a sincere expression. "Besides, I believe a certain Eli Loker might be swinging by about now to keep tabs on her."
Gillian gives a slight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Cal gives a little sigh and readjusts his hand in her hair. He caresses the side of her head and ear as he watches her. "What's wrong?" He asks her gently.
"Just thinking."
"About?" Cal prompts.
"A lot of things at the moment," Gillian says a little dejectedly.
"You seemed unsettled today," he notes conversationally.
"Cuts a little close to home."
Cal is silent for a moment. "Fair enough luv," he almost whispers. He leans in to kiss her again. Sweet, soft, gentle kisses. He's careful, respectful but he can't stop his hand shifting that little bit higher. He pulls her against him gently, wanting to get closer but she's sitting with her knees in his lap, like a purposeful barrier to keep some distance, and her knees dig into his torso keeping him at bay. They break, take a lungful of air and meet again gently. Gillian's hand slips into the hair at the back of Cal's head as sensual kisses turn into careful but exciting exploration of hot tongues and desperate mouths.
Gillian pulls away abruptly. Cal looks dishevelled and sexy as hell along with it, but she's decidedly cautious. Cal gives a little groan. "Am I pressuring you?"
Lightman Group. Lab. Day.
"We're looking for a young man, probably early twenties, someone on the cusp of figuring themselves out as an adult," Gillian heads the room, her psych profile projected on the wall. Cal is in his usual slouch. Ria sits to the left of him, at a consol. Her rapt attention in on Doctor Foster and the screen. Loker sits across the space from Ria, studying her, his attention nowhere else. Wallowski is standing almost beside Cal, but slightly back from him. "He's frustrated. He wants to take action but can't quite follow through."
"I can look into other cases," Wallowski tells Cal quietly.
"Go do that," Cal answers her while watching Gillian.
"You know we can handle the case right?" She adds.
"You think that's going to stop us?" Cal glances up at her. He misses the subtle expression Gillian affords his direction. She doesn't hesitate in her little speech though and so Cal isn't alerted to the fact that she can hear his conversation with Wallowski.
"Right cos you have some sort of code over here that puts you above proper police procedure?"
Cal stares at her clearly unimpressed. "What wouldn't you do for family detective? You can't preach to me about proper police procedure."
Wallowski looks immediately and acutely embarrassed and she turns away in her shame. "I'll be at the station."
"Keep in touch," Cal requests lightly.
Cal's office. Day. Continued.
"What was that about?"
"What?" Cal asks over his shoulder as he strides across the room to his desk. Gillian follows closely behind him, almost as if she's trying to catch him up. The form fitting dress she wears forces her to take quick shorter steps.
"You and Detective Wallowski?" Gillian queries as she comes to stop in front of his desk and watches him sit.
Cal slouches in his seat and looks up at her expectantly. "What about her?"
Gillian gives him an impatient expression. "You talk, she's suddenly incredibly embarrassed and leaves immediately. What did you say?"
"Just reminded her about familial obligations."
Gillian nods slightly as if she knows what he's talking about while she watches him carefully. She shifts her weight to the other foot and Cal looks up at her, his eyebrows raised questioningly and his expression open. "Are we ok?" She asks with a slight creasing of her forehead.
"Sure," Cal agrees readily.
Gillian watches him for a moment. "Ok," she agrees slowly, but she is not sure.
Cal gives her a grin. "Perfect darling." He gets up again. "I'm gonna go and check in with Shazza. She has a potential perpetrator that matches Ria's description for me to have a look at." He brushes past Gillian, waving his phone to indicate how he got that message, and quickly makes an exit. She turns to watch him leave and then faces his desk dejectedly.
Tan sedan. Street. Day.
"Ria said when you picked her up from the hospital it looked like you and Gillian were on a date."
"What has that go to do with the case?" Cal asks as he turns his head to watch someone walk by. The wall beside where they're parked is plastered with posters for an artist named Sondre Lerche playing an acoustic set somewhere in the city the following evening.
"Nothing I just thought that was interesting," Wallowski seems nonchalant but the comment is loaded.
"Didn't realise we were getting so close Detective," Cal shoots back, sounding highly amused. There's a small silence while he looks around his surroundings again. Brilliant sunshine reflects off the dry concrete of the bare street. There isn't a tree in sight, it's all yard-less buildings, wooden lamp posts and chain link fences. Two men slouch down the pavement away from the direction of the unmarked police car. "Of course if you'd like to discuss details we could go over what you were up to last night."
Wallowski suddenly looks out the driver's window as the noise of a motorbike engine gets louder while it approaches. "There he is."
They step out of the police vehicle and approach an apartment building across the road where a young male is pulling a motorcycle helmet off his head. He swings his leg over the seat of the bike to stand on one side. Detective Wallowski approaches quickly, flashing her badge, she identifies herself. "Can we talk?"
The young man looks slightly surprised. "Sure we can talk," he responds with a mild Spanish accent. "What is this about?"
Apartment. Day. Continued.
"I don't know anything about the lady that was attacked in the alleyway. But it is not the first time that has happened."
"So you do know something about it Diego," Wallowski follows him as they move through to the open space of the living room, kitchen and dining room. Diego stands next to the kitchen bench, indicating he is not going to offer them any hospitality, like a seat on the broken down grey couch or something from the messy and worn kitchen.
"You hear things," Diego gives a deliberate shrug. "From around the neighbourhood."
Wallowski looks over at Cal. He gives the slightest shake of his head and looks around the bare surroundings, quite blatantly checking them out. Diego eyes him up carefully, keeping tabs on his movements as he goes to the back window where there is a sliding door. It looks out onto two meters of dry grass before a tall wooden fence separates the property from the alleyway that runs along the back of the houses in this row. There's a white plastic chair resting up against the fence, one of its legs missing so it has keeled over. There's a pile of haphazard newspapers in the corner where chain link meets wood.
"What have you heard?" Wallowski presses.
"Just that some lady got attacked there two nights ago."
"Did you notice anything? A noise? Voices?"
"No," he answers innocently.
"You're five meters away, and you told me you heard nothing?" The detective gives him a little mouth frown of disbelief. "Not a scuffle?"
Diego shrugs again while shaking his head 'no'.
"What about last week?" Wallowski continues. Cal moves from the back window to stand near them, hands in his pockets, watching the young man's face. His hair is black and his skin slightly tanned and his accent denotes that he speaks his Spanish simultaneously with his English, that he learnt them at the same time, neither accent has dominance.
"Wednesday," Wallowski continues. "Around eight-ish?"
"I was not here. I was working."
"You live here alone then?" Cal cuts in. He glances obviously towards the two bedrooms in the front of the apartment.
"No I have a roommate," Diego answers.
"Was he here last Wednesday?" Cal asks.
Wallowski turns to Diego with raised eyebrows, indicating that he should answer the question and that she is interested in his response.
"I do not know. He often works late," Diego responds. "We don't always see each other. Or keep an eye on each other's whereabouts."
A key sounds in the lock and another young man comes in. He looks similar to Diego, similar height, the same black hair and dark brown eyes. He looks startled for a moment. Diego waves him in. "These are police officers. They want to talk about what happened to that lady two nights ago. The one that was attacked. In the alleyway."
The roommate turns fully to face them. He has an obvious scratch down his cheek and looks, for a very slight second, something only Cal sees: guilty. Cal glances at Detective Wallowski who turns around, sees the injury to his face and looks back over at Cal, her eyebrows raised in a silent question of confirmation.