The volatile weather was here to stay. A day could start out warm and dry only to be followed by bouts of wind and rain mixed with pockets of sun. The natives were wary of a hurricane approaching as it was the season but so far there had been no warning. As Horatio stood beneath an early evening grey sky sliced with streaks of gold he thought that perhaps the storm was already here. Even though murder hadn't slowed in Miami the Garrett Murders still remained the focus of the Miami press. Now the latest sardonic headings suggested that the case itself was cursed because no one had caught a break with it.
Even the normally calm redhead was starting to suffer from the case. In the deepest pockets of his mind his nightmares were freed when his subconsciousness dropped the wall he had spent a long time erecting. At night images of Marisol and Tim getting shot came. Sometimes there was a sudden flash of Rebecca bloodied on the ground with accusing eyes frozen in his direction and standing over her was Rick looking at him with an icy eyed surprise.
Horatio entered the Miami-Dade lab swapping the questionable sky for a more reliable cool, clinical setting. With ease and familiarity he headed downstairs to his home from home.
After donning a monogrammed white lab coat he slipped into the isolated lab room that Ryan and he had taken over in recent days. He checked through his notes hastily for the umpteenth time, wondering if they had missed something. He steeled himself to images of Gillian, Christine and Balthasar Garrett lying deceased in the house and then in Alexx's morgue. How the hell could they have no helpful trace of their killer? No prints and not enough DNA to make a profile. Horatio paused as he shuffled through the images and came across one of the dog.
It was a black and white collie, a gift for Marissa, not even two years old, it had been a girl called Bailey. Stabbed in several places it had been a mess of bloody smears and deep, ugly cuts when they had found it, one slice had almost hacked its red leather collar in two. There had been fabric caught in the dog's teeth, their biggest clue for the killer so far. It had been identified as black leather, most probably from a jacket.
Horatio frowned down at the image and wondered why Evelyn had Marissa out for a walk on the beach without the dog. Bailey was Marissa's after all, exactly why Rick had been very stern that the dog's gory fate wasn't mentioned to the child. Horatio didn't entirely agree with the decision but given the child had a heart condition he couldn't argue with it either.
He moved to go over what they had unidentified- shoe prints in the sand that could belong to their killer. They had been near Evelyn's body, many of them ruined as if someone had deliberately dug their feet into the sand and twisted them about to deform the prints. By combining all the partials they had come up with size ten and a half prints with deep grooves that suggested boots. The treads were too common, the vertical lines belonging to various brands. Their killer had been surprised by Evelyn, she had ran and so had they to catch her but after killing her they had had time to smudge their footprints, which went against the theory that they had been surprised killing her. So Evelyn had just arrived home at the wrong time then? Horatio was almost certain that the unfortunate maid had been silenced as a witness not as an intended victim.
Gillian had fought the hardest but telling Rick that hadn't given him much comfort. Horatio recalled reminding him of that in the cafe after the funerals as an attempt to console him. Marissa and Cassandra had been at the counter picking out a sticky bun for Marissa. Rick had turned an ugly shade of grey and snapped that it only meant she had suffered the most too. Horatio figured that was another way to look at it but wasn't that Rick all over, always seeing the glass half-empty rather than half-full?
Gillian had been sexually assaulted, bruising and blood had confirmed that but her assailant had been creative and violent with the abuse either using an object or a condom. A missing brass candlestick from the top of the fireplace gave Horatio some dark theories about it. Testing with the other candlestick to confirm the radius of its circular bottom gave strong evidence that it might have been what Gillian's eyes were pulverised with as well. What Horatio couldn't work out was if Gillian was the main target or had been tortured in an attempt to gain something from Christine or Balthasar.
Frustrated, Horatio headed to leave the lab, he had other cases to review. Calleigh and Eric were dealing with a case that involved a young couple dead in a hotel room at South Beach in what appeared to be a robbery gone horribly wrong. Valera was processing DNA from a housewife perceived to have committed suicide until the coroner's report threw it into doubt, a case which Natalia was inheriting. The list was endless and Horatio was a little envious that his colleagues were getting the fresh cases whilst he wasn't allowed to be active on anything outside the Garrett killings. Sure as lieutenant he could and had to supervise the others but that was it, all his field work and lab work had to be focused on the Garretts.
As the redhead headed upstairs, intending on going to his office, he heard Ryan Wolfe's irate tones.
"No you're out of line!" Ryan's angry voice bounced off the walls as he paced down a nearby corridor. "You went too far with that interview, they're human beings Erica!" His face blazed with anger as he listened to the retort. "No that's not doing your job, that's messing with people's lives and toying with their grief. Are you crazy? I'm not giving you an exclusive!" He hung up the phone, muttered a curse and shook his head angrily.
"Trouble Mr. Wolfe?" Horatio queried tranquilly as he reached the top of the staircase and turned to face the younger CSI.
Ryan looked over at his boss apologetically before pocketing his phone. He felt a prickle of embarrassment at Horatio witnessing his loss of temper. "Sorry Horatio," he apologised instantly. "You didn't see the latest on WFOR-TV then?"
Horatio shook his head, he preferred to avoid the fluff the reporters churned out in the papers and on television in a bid to make money, it was rare that it helped their cases. He looked at Ryan calmly, bidding him to explain the nature behind his volatile conversation.
"Erica and her crew are still obsessing over this Garrett business," Ryan explained, adding bitingly, "and since they can't bother the dead they've decided to harass the living."
Horatio arched his golden-copper eyebrows slightly at this. He knew where this was going and yet he feared to hear Ryan voice it. "What happened?" he quipped bluntly.
Ryan was surprised by the annoyance that burned in Horatio's vibrant blue eyes. "She bothered Stetler this afternoon on his way to work," he admitted. "Stuck a camera and a microphone in his face." Ryan met his superior's gaze with an awkward grimace, Horatio's stare was starting to fill with anger.
When Ryan had first seen the clip on television he had smirked despite himself, Stetler was an asshole and it was amusing seeing him lose his shit on television but then Ryan had remembered the circumstances and seen the clip for what it really was, the man was barely holding it together and Erica and her cronies were vultures going in for the kill.
"I think you're better seeing it for yourself H," Ryan suggested. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost seven, it'll be coming on again now."
Horatio nodded. "Lead the way Mr. Wolfe."
They headed to the small break room which was suspiciously crowded. The television was already on and several pairs of eyes were keenly glued to it. An odour of fresh coffee filled the air and the collection of tables were littered with cups, open cans and a shared out plate of cookies. Horatio felt a measure of disgust at the scene. The staff weren't here to relax, they were getting ready with snacks to watch Rick Stetler get crucified on the news.
"I can't wait to see it again," Eric's voice remarked cheerfully, "about time someone let him know what it's like to be humiliated." He was seated at the front of the tables, closest to the television.
"You got that right," Maxine Valera's voice answered in a tone of venomous joy. She lingered against a wall at the back, sullen faced at missing out on a seat.
"Well now, unless the clocks have broken it can't be everyone's tea time can it?" Horatio quipped in a dry, sardonic tone, making sure to be audible over the television.
Maxine's eyes darted over to him nervously whilst a young male lab tech flinched and a female lab assistant let out a soft gasp of surprise.
"Uh mine just ended," one of the traces team members stammered awkwardly before he jumped to his feet.
A few got to their feet hastily, moving towards the door which involved sidestepping the disapproving lieutenant. Horatio purposely lingered by the doorway, hands on his hips as he eyed each one of them with scorn.
Ryan stood beside the lieutenant, not making eye contact with anyone, conscious of the looks of annoyance that were sent his way. He was going to get to watch the show immune to Horatio's anger.
"Here it comes!" Eric called out chirpily, undeterred by Horatio's presence. He figured Horatio was just annoyed by so many people taking a break, he didn't suspect it might be what they were about to watch that had irritated his superior.
The seven o'clock news began with two presenters reading out the evening headlines before the camera focused in on female presenter Judy Hayes. "First on WFOR-TV, the Garrett Murders," she began. "A case never far from Miami minds, we endeavour to bring you the latest updates on the troubling massacre, day or night. A killing that has shaken the city and raised more questions than answers, our fellow reporter Erica Sykes today attempted to gain a better insight into the surviving family members. Two step-children whose chosen venue for the funerals of their own mother, half-sister and stepfather has raised more than a few eyebrows in Miami, especially considering their late stepfather's wealth, people are now asking the question, could they know more than they're telling about this horrible tragedy?"
Horatio kept his face impassive as he watched Judy ramble on, switching her tone with a mastered ease from sympathetic to judgemental as she talked about the Garretts and then their stepchildren. He found it telling that she didn't bother mentioning the orphaned Marissa or how Rick and Cassandra had selflessly taken her in without hesitation. He figured it was easier now for the press to present Rick and Cassandra as villainous, painting them as the ungrateful stepchildren who had scorned Balthasar even in death. The funerals taking place in a poor area had been all the ammunition the media had needed.
The screen swapped to footage of Erica Sykes, a bold, beautiful and confident reporter. She was wearing her long blonde hair scraped back in a tight ponytail so her vicious smile could show. In a flattering cream suit with soft, fair skin and sparkling blue eyes, she looked a little too angelic in comparison to the tall, dark haired male dressed in black that she rushed to harass.
Horatio felt a spark of pity for Rick, even before he opened his mouth it looked bad for him. He charged on in an aggressive walk, scowling to himself as he failed to make eye contact and oozed out hostility.
"Mr. Stetler, Mr. Stetler do you have a moment?" Erica called out to him eagerly.
"Wait for it," Eric piped up with a gleeful smile, watching the scene unfold with the merriment of someone at the cinema watching a comedy.
"Sergeant," Rick snarled out, "Sergeant Stetler."
Ryan winced at the fury Rick glared at Erica and the camera with. "His family are dead and he worries about his job title," Ryan murmured sardonically, "that's going to be her next story I bet."
"Sergeant Stetler," Erica corrected hastily with a beaming grin, "do you have a moment?"
"No," he snapped as he tried to continue on.
In the background the looming brown brick building of the IAB offices stood, tantalising close and yet cruelly still too far for Rick.
"I just want to ask about your family," Erica explained. "Why did you bury them where you did? Is there still some grudge between you and your stepfather?"
"What the hell business is it of yours?" Rick snarled back. Even on camera the tiny red veins soiling the whites of his eyes were visible along with the grey shadows that sagged beneath his eyes and the sallow tone to his skin. His hair, a shade of brown so dark it was almost sable, had started to grow out in untidy waves and there was stubble at his chin.
Ryan wondered if the man had bothered to wash before dressing for the office since he hadn't shaved or combed his hair. Ryan knew he should have felt pleasure seeing a man who had once fired him and several times had humiliated him over his gambling offences look so dishevelled but he only felt hollow. He wondered how he would react if his family had been slaughtered like that and their killer was still unfounded and he decided Rick deserved credit for at least still being able to put on a suit in the morning. Hell, he was even wearing one of those colourful silk ties he seemed so fond of.
Eric continued to smirk at the show, pausing only to take gulps from his soda, though his eyes never left the screen. His hatred for Rick burned deep, the man had once had him in cuffs for a mistaken assumption that Eric had been using marijuana. The fact that Eric had bought marijuana, for his suffering sister Marisol, didn't make Eric feel any less sore about the issue.
"What about the incident between you and your stepfather?" Erica demanded. "When you were twenty? I heard there was a domestic dispute but he dropped the charges."
The blinding red fury Ryan had glimpsed in Rick when he had stood staring at the small door was back. He had stopped walking at her question and his glower was solely upon her. He pointed at her with one finger and his answer came out quiet but sharp, "be careful with what you say."
Horatio wondered at her implication.
"Touched a nerve did I?" Erica quipped mockingly. "In light of the circumstances we'd like to know Mr Stetler," she mispronounced his title with a cruel smile, "do you even mourn the loss of your family?"
"Too far," Ryan murmured with a disapproving frown.
"Fair," Eric argued as he glanced up at Wolfe with scorn, "the man hasn't shed a tear," he added as he gestured up to the television with one hand.
"Sergeant," Rick repeated in a snarl, "Sergeant Stelter." With that snarl he sealed the final nail in his coffin of unpopularity before turning from Erica and storming off to the IAB headquarters.
Horatio stepped up to the television and hit it off as it returned to the smiling face of Judy and her co-presenter.
"You know Eric people express their grief in different ways," Ryan said heatedly, "you don't know that Rick hasn't shed a tear, he just hasn't done it publicly and why should he?"
Eric stood up from the table and gestured up to the television with one hand again. "Why? Because look how he comes across! If Stetler didn't have such a strong alibi people would be asking why you hadn't arrested him!" he exclaimed.
"Eric," Horatio interrupted sharply, "I know you don't like the man but that doesn't justify taking pleasure in the press tormenting him." He fixed a disapproving stare on the half-Cuban, one edged with disappointment. He could empathise with Eric's disliking for Rick Stetler but he couldn't approve of Eric's cruel delight at the man's suffering.
"Come on H," Eric protested like a scorned child, "after everything he's done to us, arresting you, arresting me, sacking Wolfe and all those other times he got up in our faces, hindering everything we did, always looking for holes."
"Eric we're better than this," Horatio said with a gaze full of warning.
Eric looked wounded as he fell silent and frowned. "Stetler's an asshole, he's getting what he deserves," he grumbled before he moved towards the door.
"Eric," Horatio called after him disapprovingly, "we all work here, don't leave the room in this state."
Eric bristled, clenching his fists slightly before he turned back to his boss with a sulky expression. He headed back to the table, reaching for the discarded cups and plates with a scowl, swallowing down the childish urge to complain that it wasn't his mess. He knew this was a punishment for his outburst and he was adamant that he didn't deserve it.
It was close to ten o'clock when Horatio finally left the MDPD headquarters. Feeling more frustrated than when he had arrived, he couldn't even take pleasure in seeing a clear night sky for a change. The laboratory had turned heavy with the mood after Horatio's scorn for people wanting to watch Erica's interview. Although no one had openly complained about it, the annoyance and frustration had been obvious enough for Alexx to enquire about it to Horatio. He hadn't bothered with an explanation, save for a murmur that people hadn't liked the news.
After his scorning of Eric, Horatio's night hadn't been productive. He couldn't forget the hurt in the half-Cuban's warm brown eyes or Eric's look of ire for Wolfe. It was always a competition between them, Eric ever jealous of the newcomer and Ryan always eager to be the favourite. Horatio had neither the time nor patience for it, he had a real son to deal with and Kyle's problems were more than enough for him without any woes from work.
Horatio had half-heartedly contemplated contacting Kyle when he left the lab but now he figured it was too late and he didn't want to give Kyle's mother Julia an excuse to complain. Fed up, tired and hungry, Horatio drove towards downtown hoping to get takeaway. It wasn't ideal but he was in no mood to cook and he couldn't recall when he had last eaten a proper meal.
It didn't take long before the stars were lost to the night pollution of Miami's club scene. Green, pink, purple and orange neon lights filled the streets and the skies competing for attention. Miami was advertised as having good air quality and being one of the cleanest cities in America but Horatio had a hard time believing that when all that was coming through his vents was an aroma of cheap food sullied with drink and pollution. For a brief moment he caught a faint scent of something metallic, a taint of blood in the air. His gaze hardened as his foot hit the brake pedal. The odour grew stronger, a large pool of clotting red, brighter than he'd seen in a long time and so much of it. Rachel was lying there, broken and sullied in her own blood. Rick was in the background, his voice a murmur Horatio could barely detect over the ringing in his ears.
Marisol was standing staring at him, first in surprise and then in pain as she clutched at her stomach as she became a blood spattered bride.
The loud, angry blast of a horn drew Horatio back to reality. He shook his head and realised that the scent of blood had just been in his mind. Forcing himself to his senses he started to drive again, mentally cursing his reckless at stopping dead in the road.
The redhead was startled again when he spied a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye and glimpsed a familiar figure. Curious and worried, he indicated to the right and moved to pull in against the kerb. Stopping the car, Horatio stepped out calmly and waited for the young woman to near him.
"Evening Mrs Silverstone, isn't it a little late for you to be out alone?" he greeted calmly.
Cassandra jumped at the greeting before giving the lieutenant an easygoing smile.
Horatio wasn't fooled, despite the fact that he had only the street lights to aid him he could see the unease in her stare.
"It's Cassie," she said firmly, "and can't I ask the same of you? Or is this is a gender thing?"
"No Cassie, it's a case of me having a gun and you being in a family that's in danger," he retorted quietly.
Cassie shrugged carelessly. "Well a girl's got to work, the bills don't stop for murder Lieutenant Caine."
"Horatio," he corrected. "Well, since I'm here, can I offer you an escort?" He gestured back to his car.
Cassandra shook her head. "No thanks, I like the night air," she assured.
Horatio took in her attire to gage where she worked but he figured it wasn't much of a clue when she could have her uniform waiting for her at work. She had shorts on again but a different pair mercifully, black with tassels with a loose fitted, light, white top, a long, open, red cardigan, black high heels and her usual array of jewellery and a tasselled handbag.
"I'm going to have to be old-fashioned and insist on this," he said gently. "Miami isn't always safe for women at night and we still don't know who hurt your family."
"So it's double the danger for me then?" she quipped brightly. "And there'll probably be a mob of reporters asking me why I buried everyone in a pauper's grave and then saying I'm so heartless and cruel," she sneered.
"You saw the interview then?" Horatio quipped calmly.
Cassandra scowled at this. "I saw the interrogation," she retorted angrily. "Are you guys doing anything about that? Is it legal for that bitch to harass Rick like that?"
Horatio let a flicker of a grin show before he could help it. He admired Cassandra's defence of her brother and was amused by the irony of it. It seemed like Cassandra could taunt Rick however she liked but woe betide anyone else who did it.
Cassandra misinterpreted his grin and her scowl deepened. "I know you don't like Rick but I thought you'd be on his side over this," she complained.
Horatio banished his whisper of a grin and let his sympathy show in his blue stare. "I am," he assured. "That reporter, Ms. Sykes, was out of line and I will speak to her superiors about it."
Cassandra shrugged again and sighed. "The damage is done anyway," she murmured. "Rick does himself no favours I suppose." She gave Horatio a serious stare. "He does mourn you know," she said, her tone defensive again, "he just doesn't display it for the world."
Horatio nodded. "I understand," he assured. "Now, can I please give you a lift to your work?"
Cassandra bowed her head briefly before giving him another smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Alright, if only because I'd rather avoid a microphone in my face but it's not far Horatio, why do you think I'm walking?"
Horatio smiled again. "Well let me walk you then," he offered.
"Alright Horatio, if you have to."
Horatio's smile disappeared with her abrasive retort. He didn't want Cassandra to be hostile towards him and wondered if it was because of this Erica business. "So where do you work?" he pried as he wondered how she had gotten a job so quickly.
"Just follow," she replied bluntly before she started walking.
They walked side by side, silent as it was evident Cassandra didn't want to talk. They reached a bar called 'The Owl's Nest' and Cassandra stopped outside before giving Horatio a calm look. "This is me," she said cheerfully, "I'm a waitress. Thanks for the walk and I'll see you later." She didn't bother waiting for a reply before darting inside.
Horatio gazed at the bar front curiously. It wasn't all that appealing, dark green tinted windows, a dark brown exterior and no swing sign or lights to pull anyone in. He was guessing it was probably a cheap bar for the older drinkers not the party goers. Wondering why Cassandra had departed so hastily he decided he would follow his instinct and wait nearby for a moment. Scanning the street, he picked a spot off to the right at a bus shelter.
The redhead only had to wait ten minutes before the bar's door opened and the blonde emerged. She did a quick scan about the street but didn't spy him and then she was off again, scurrying up the street hastily.
Horatio followed after her, quietly aware of the irony when he had cautioned her against the streets of Miami being unsafe for her, but she didn't once glance back to notice him. She stopped outside a club with flashing red neon lights and hurried in.
Horatio waited a couple of minutes before he stepped up to the front of the club. Silhouettes of female dancers decorated the window and a swing sign with red neon lettering advertised the place as 'The Den of Venus'. Signs on the door bragged about pole dancers and lap dancers, stag party deals, private booths and more. Horatio realised the reasoning behind Cassandra's rudeness and earlier ruse. He deliberated between embarrassing her and confronting her and wondered why he would even do the latter. He realised with a jolt of surprise that it was because he was worried about her. Dancing in a nightclub would make her a very easy and identifiable target.
Reasoning that he had no right to humiliate her, Horatio debated over returning to his car before coming to a compromise with himself. There was a twenty-four-hour diner across the road, he could wait there for a while.
As he moved to cross the road he attempted to justify his decision to himself. He was hungry after all and the diner was convenient. He had nowhere else to be and Cassandra could be in danger, better he waited a while to ensure she was safe.
Horatio waited in the diner for two hours before realising how idiotic he was being. The diner had no reason to hold him, the coffee had been lukewarm and tasteless, his requested meal had come burnt and missing its side and the speakers were playing more static than music. He should be home in his bed but he knew he wouldn't rest thinking of Cassandra out here. Knowing he would have no peace, he paid his bill, with a grudging tip, and departed the diner.
He crossed the road and entered the club, which was hiving with music and people. The main music was loud, pounding dance but there were tunes underneath it, a variety of music carried from private rooms and booths. The air was clogged with a variety of scents, salted with sweat, sweet with cocktails, all almost smothered by the scents pumped through the air conditioning in a vain attempt to override the smutty odour of sex, drink and drugs. The young, scantily clad woman at the door eyed him curiously.
"You a cop?" she quipped bluntly. She lingered beneath a spotlight that managed to highlight her bust suggestively, beams of light dancing across the sparkles in her bra.
Horatio smiled back. "Off-duty for now," he assured.
She shrugged. "What are you looking for?"
"Not what, whom," he corrected.
"Same difference in here," she said with a careless roll of her eyes.
Horatio realised he didn't even know if Cassandra was using her real name in here, given the media interest it was possible she might not be. "You know what, I'll find her," he said reassuringly. He moved on into the club where a variety of dancers were spread out like selections at a buffet. Some were wrapped around silver poles erected at appropriate spots near the bar, others gyrated over laps in booths whilst some danced boldly on table tops and a few occupied the stage.
Horatio, unperturbed given his many ventures into clubs of this nature thanks to his work, was quick to spy her. She was on the stage in a mock cop outfit of all things. Single navy bra with gold buckles, a matching thong, a large, black belt riding high on her waist, existing only to support a plastic gold shield, mock pistols in holsters and handcuffs of course, a navy police officer's hat with a black brim and MDPD printed in black font and high black stilettos. Cassandra's problem wasn't her appearance however it was her poor dancing.
Cassandra had an admirable figure, she was toned with sun kissed skin but she didn't have the expensive bronze tans of the other dancers and she wasn't as tall or limber or as flexible. She moved to the music, matching the pace but offering nothing exciting.
She was nervous Horatio realised and scared. Her eyes darted about rapidly, seeing everything and nothing, she acknowledged that there were many faces but she didn't take any of them in, it took her three searches before she spied him, the tallest redhead in the place.
Horatio watched as the coloured drained from her face and she stumbled before her cheeks bloomed with pink and her mouth creased into an expression of humiliation. He filled with scorn at himself for startling her as she bolted from the stage, ignoring the heated protests from an angry looking young man.
Now Horatio really didn't know what to do. He could try to follow her, revealing himself as a member of the police and drawing even more attention to her or he could wait and hope she returned when in all likelihood she'd take the back exit to avoid him. Figuring it wasn't worth the risk he decided to go for the formal approach.
Horatio moved towards the door marked Private where he knew the changing rooms had to be. He was greeted by the expected muscular bouncer who had a twitch to his face that suggested drug usage. Horatio held up his badge. "Miami-Dade Police, I'm Lieutenant Caine," he introduced. "I'm here to speak to one of your dancers."
"Oh yeah, which one?" the bouncer snapped.
"The blonde who just left the stage," Horatio confessed.
"What for?"
"Not your concern," Horatio carefully.
"No warrant, no entry," the bouncer retorted bluntly. He was so blunt Horatio figured he had been trained to say it.
"Well that's fine," Horatio said politely as he scanned across the club calmly. "I can amuse myself Iding some of your waitresses and dancers while I wait for the warrant."
"That won't be necessary," the man who had shouted after Cassandra interrupted. "I'm Mark Deeks, I run this club, who is it you're looking for?"
"The blonde who just left the stage," Horatio admitted.
"Cassidy? Sure, I'll bring her out," Mark offered.
Horatio couldn't resist the smile that slipped out, it wasn't much of a name change for her.
"Greg, out of the way," Mark ordered the bouncer.
The bouncer complied with another glare at Horatio.
Mark slipped through the door leaving Horatio behind him. It took only a couple of minutes before he returned, pulling the angry faced Cassandra by her left arm. "Hey this officer wants to speak to you," Mark snapped at her, "so do it or you're out of a job."
"Mr. Deeks I suggest you remove your hand from her," Horatio said quietly with a cool stare, "there is no need for force."
Mark met the lieutenant's cerulean stare and his expression became uneasy as he struggled to interpret Horatio's gaze. With reluctance his hand dropped away from Cassandra.
"Now, give us some privacy," Horatio ordered frostily.
"Right," Mark murmured with a nod, "take the booth over there," he suggested as he waved to a vacant booth on the right.
Horatio nodded and raised his hand in that direction, gesturing for Cassandra to move. "After you m'am," he said politely.
Cassandra gave him a heated glower of rage akin to her brother's many before she moved. She sat down in the booth with a look of unease, tense as she waited for Horatio to sit down and speak.
The redhead sat opposite her and gave her an apologetic look. "I didn't mean to startle you," he said sincerely. "I saw you leave the bar-"
"And you followed," she interrupted in a snarl.
"Yes," he admitted, "because I was concerned. I watched you come in here and realised this was where you really worked but I wondered how you would be getting home so I waited. Then I realised I couldn't know how long your shift would be so I came in."
"Intruded," she snarled, "now I'm gonna get fired. It's not easy getting a job round here you know," she added hotly, "not if you don't have a fancy education and I need a job. How easy do you think it is keeping us all fed and clothed and homed? Rick has two ex-wives to support," she reminded Horatio.
Horatio nodded calmly. "I understand and I apologise for the intrusion but you don't look comfortable here."
Cassandra leaned back and tipped her hat pointedly before giving the redhead a look of ire and gesturing out with both hands. "Look around, does anyone look comfortable here?"
Horatio sighed. "That's not what I mean," he said quietly, "you looked scared Cassie."
She bristled at the accusation and he watched as anger flared through her eyes before giving way to fear. "I worked here before," she admitted, "that's how I could get a job here so quick. I was twenty-one last time, now I'm thirty-five. I thought with it being so long..." She turned miserable and bowed her head. "Fuck you're right, I don't want to be here, lights and music doesn't do much for my headaches." She rubbed the back of her skull pointedly. "But I don't know what else to do."
"Well how about we leave here and go through your options together," Horatio suggested gently. "I'm sure we can find something else for you."
She glanced up sharply and gave him a taunting smile. "There's that we again Horatio, I can't depend on that. I was a we until twenty-one, that's when he left me and I was homeless and penniless and I came here and I danced and then..." She shuddered and suddenly her face became pallid and twisted into a wretched expression. She raised a hand to her mouth as if she might be sick and swallowed hard.
"And then what?" Horatio pried.
Cassandra leaned across the table with a serious stare. "All Rick's ever done is protect me," she said with a pleading gaze, "don't let him find out I was here and don't let that bitch drag up the past."
"Cassandra what are you talking about?" Horatio demanded.
"Can we talk about it outside?" she pleaded.
He nodded. "Of course."
Cassandra stood up with Horatio and headed to the door marked private but Mark was swift to block her entry. "Your shift is far from over," he snapped.
"On the contrary," Horatio said calmly as he held the man's stare, "her shift is finished for good."
"Is that right?" Mark snapped as he turned a glare on her.
Cassandra nodded back calmly. "It's not my scene," she said coolly.
Mark folded his arms with a defensive stance. "Well get out then," he snapped.
Cassandra scowled back at him. "I need my stuff."
He shook his head. "That's my property now."
Horatio was ready to begin lecturing the man about property rights but Cassandra reacted first. She delivered a swift kick to Mark's groin and when he doubled over in pain she snatched up her handcuffs, clipped one over his wrist and snapped the other to a nearby pole. "Here's a good pole for you, practice what you preach," she snarled at him.
The bouncer, Greg, readied to retaliate but Horatio shook his head at him. "Greg unless you want me to get our drugs squad probing into your supply I suggest you let the lady through."
"She assaulted him!" the bouncer protested.
"She defended her right to her property," Horatio corrected.
The bouncer sighed and stepped aside.
Cassandra didn't take long in changing and grabbing her handbag. She rejoined Horatio quickly and all but ran out of the nightclub.
Back on the streets the blonde sucked in a deep, grateful breath of air. "Damn that's good," she murmured. She glanced back at Horatio gratefully. "I was mad at you for intruding but now I'm glad, funny how things change."
Horatio nodded back, his gaze darting up to the sky, it was cloudy again. "It looks like it's going to rain again, let's head back to my car," he suggested.
Cassandra nodded. The stroll was quiet again but more amicable. Horatio's car was exactly where he left it and a welcome sight after all this time.
Once they got in, the redhead started up the engine but he didn't move out, instead he looked over at Cassandra pointedly.
Sensing his gaze, the blonde started down at her lap and fiddled with her bracelets thoughtfully. "You're not going to forget what I said in there, are you?" she pried quietly.
"No," he retorted, "but I won't pry if you don't want me to."
She looked over at him with a sorrowful stare. "It's not that, we're on good terms Horatio, even with Rick's issues with you." She gave a small smile. "You didn't look disgusted when you seen me up there and you didn't leer. Hmm I don't know what to make of that, maybe you just didn't really see me at all."
"I did," he answered truthfully.
She raised her eyebrows at this before nodding calmly. "When I last worked there he seen me there too."
For a moment Horatio thought she meant her brother, which would explain her secrecy with the job but then she continued.
"Stepfather," she said in revulsion. "He learned where I was and he came and he paid to watch. He sat as close to the stage as he could, watching forever it seemed. Then...then he held up a note and he beckoned me to him." She shuddered and shook her head before giving Horatio another sad smile. "Sorry, I'm not making sense. I should go back a bit I suppose. When I was fourteen and Rick was twenty, that assault that reporter mentioned."
Cassandra leaned back against the leather seat and sighed as she shut her eyes. "I was five when I first met that man, a life of bruises, bumps and shouting until I started to fill out and get curves. I was fourteen when he touched me once, I slapped him and he punched me so hard I had a concussion. Rick saw the black eye and he lost it, caught him by surprise and beat him. God damn he near pulverised him until mother and some of the staff made him stop. Called the police, he was gonna press charges, they got that right but then I said I would too so it all went away." She fell silent.
Horatio looked over at the young woman with sympathy, wanting to console her in some way.
Cassandra flinched when she felt Horatio's hand gripping her own. She turned her palm round so she could grip his back and she squeezed tightly before continuing on.
"It all went away until I was twenty-one and he came and he watched me dance and he paid for it. I felt so sick, I was sick and scared and I phoned Rick and I cried. He went to the house, that awful, hell hole house but stepfather expected it I suppose, maybe the whole thing was just to get Rick there. Rick got beat that time, old bastard was a boxer, still had skills, I mean he really beat Rick. I was there, he made me watch and he made Rick cry." Cassandra swallowed hard and gave Horatio a dejected look. "Don't tell him I told you that, please, he'd never forgive me. I know we're always fighting and there are plenty of times I think he's an ass but he's always looked out for me."
Horatio nodded again. "I understand," he sympathised, "I had a violent father," he confessed.
Both of them looked surprised at this admission and Cassandra made an o face. "Shit, here I am blabbing again about my woes like you couldn't have any of your own." She withdrew her hand and sat upright, fumbling to push her blonde strands back from her face. "I'm sorry Horatio, that's selfish of me."
"Not at all," he assured. "You're sharing and I'm glad you can share with me."
She smiled again. "Me too."
"Now can I give you a lift home?"
Cassandra nodded. "Yeah but don't get mad when I don't invite you in, it's late and Rick would get mad."
Horatio smiled at this. "I won't get mad," he assured.
