My Dark Life
Author: NotasboredasIlook
Rating: M for profanity, violence and adult situations.
Disclaimers: CSI: Miami and the characters belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and they have far more time and money than I do. I'm just using the products of their genius for nonprofit fun.
Category: DuCaine. Angst/Drama/Romance (eventually)
Summary: Maybe, just maybe, she WAS starting to lose it. God knew she was probably long overdue for an emotional meltdown. When she thought about it, almost everyone she knew at work had lost it at least once.
My first CSI: Miami fanfic. Be gentle.
Timeline: Refers to much of CSI: Miami Seasons 1-8 through "Bad Seed." After that I take our team in a different direction. No Kyle in Afghanistan and no more Delko and Calleigh rendezvous'.
Status: Work In Progress
Chapter 7
"Robber men await you there, each beguiling alley, To shake you and to pierce you, and remind you of, my dark life." – Elvis Costello, "My Dark Life"
"You ain't got shit on me, cop."
For a case as gruesome as this, the process had gone rather quickly. Before they could even get back to the lab, witness reports had led them to a potential suspect: Benjamin Arnold Jacobs, a well-known game fisherman with a nasty reputation and an even nastier anger management problem.
Standing across from him, Horatio placed both hands on the interrogation room table and leaned down, focusing his steely blue gaze on the man. Jacobs was bald and beefy, with stubby, calloused fingers and no visible neck. He wore a soiled, sleeveless white t-shirt and faded camouflage pants, and he sat back arrogantly in his chair, smirking at his inquisitor.
"That is where you are wrong, Mr. Jacobs," Horatio responded icily, making sure he held the man's gaze.
Jacobs stared right back at Horatio, as if daring him to step out of his cool exterior and go man-to-man with him for a few minutes. The suspect rubbed his chin for a minute in faux contemplation, his fingers brushing over several angry red scratches on his face, then he flexed his heavily tattooed arms and folded them across his chest.
"We'll see, Lieutenant," Jacobs responded, his voice low and cocky. "After my lawyer gets done with you, I'll have that pretty gold badge of yours mounted up on the wall next to my marlin."
Horatio chuckled menacingly, having heard similar threats so many times in the past by criminals who were clearly smarter than Jacobs He considered saying as much, but decided against it when he caught a flash of blonde hair in peripheral vision. He straightened and turned as Calleigh entered the room.
"Perfection timing," he thought, glaring at Jacobs who was visibly ogling Calleigh's backside as she walked.
Calleigh was unfazed by Jacobs' leers, and gave him a disgusted glance before approaching Horatio. In her hand, she carried a yellow file folder, which she handed to him as she sat down in a chair across from the suspect. She locked eyes on her prey while Horatio skimmed through the contents of the folder.
In truth, he didn't need to see what she had brought him. He knew that she would find what he was looking for, and he trusted that she would do it with flawless expediency. No matter the case (though he had to admit it had been awhile since the two of them had worked on one together), there was never any doubt that she would deliver when he needed her too.
He nodded as he handed the folder back to Calleigh, who took it and smoothly removed two pieces of paper. Setting one of the papers in front of her, she placed the other on the table and slid it forcefully to Jacobs, who glanced at it and shrugged.
"What's that?" he asked, unimpressed.
Calleigh's chin rose as Horatio stood behind her, waiting for her to go in for the kill.
"That is the result of a DNA test," she said with conviction. "You see Mr. Jacobs, you have a long history of letting your temper get the better of you. You've got quite a few arrest jackets because of it. So, we compared your DNA from an old assault charge to DNA from skin we found on the hook used to kill James Benson. We also found your skin cells under Benson's fingernails. I'm willing to bet dollars to donuts that's how you got those scratches on your face."
Jacobs sat feigning interest as Calleigh reached over and pointed to a set of numbers, illustrating her point. When she was finished, he gave her an exaggerated yawn.
"Like I told Howdy Doody here," he said waving a hand in Horatio's direction, "I don't know this Benson guy. Never seen him before in my life."
Though Jacobs' barb had been aimed at Horatio, Calleigh still tensed at his audacity.
"These match," she said, staring coolly at him. "Your skin is on the hook and on the victim. We have several witnesses that heard you threaten to kill Benson AND we can prove you lied about your alibi."
Jacobs frowned at the last part of her statement, but before he could say anything, Calleigh slid the second piece of paper over to him. It was a photograph taken from a security camera showing the large man on the pier. In his hands was a large fishing hook and some chains. The time stamp in the corner of the picture read 21:13.
Horatio grinned and folded his arms. "You weren't at the bar until 10, were you Ben?" he goaded. "We've got you at the pier, with the murder weapon, right before Mr. Benson was killed."
Calleigh leaned over and pointed to the DNA test still sitting on the table. "And, we have the science to back it up. You murdered James Benson and for that, you are going away for a very long time."
Without moving his head, Jacobs looked back and forth between Horatio and Calleigh for a moment, an expression of amused quandary on his meaty face. But there was something unusual … something about the man's demeanor that set Horatio on edge, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.
Looking up, he was about to motion to the officers standing outside to take their suspect into custody, when Jacobs dropped his passive façade. His face suddenly turned purple and he let out a furious roar, lunging across the table at Calleigh.
"BITCH!" he screamed with bulging, wild eyes. Before Calleigh could react, Jacobs grabbed her left arm and practically yanked her up onto the table as he tried to get his other hand around her throat. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU BITCH!! I'LL GUT YOU LIKE A FISH AND PISS ON YOUR BODY!! DO YOU HEAR ME BITCH?!"
Acting on instinct, Horatio was on Jacobs in an instant. Before the uniformed officers could even get into the room, he grabbed Jacobs by the back of the neck and with an animal force fueled by adrenaline, lifted him out of his seat and threw him against the wall, pinning his forearm against the man's neck. Jacobs fought to break free, but Horatio angrily held fast. Every time Jacobs moved, Horatio put more pressure against his esophagus.
Internally, Horatio was fighting a battle to control his own fury at how this "SCUMBAG!" had attacked Calleigh. Just thinking about Jacobs putting his filthy hands on her made him want to …
"That … was a very … VERY … stupid move, Ben," Horatio seethed through gritted teeth as Jacobs struggled in vain against the powerful hold the lieutenant had him in. He brought his face in close and glared into Jacobs' brown eyes. "Just for that, we are going to add assault on a police officer to your murder charge."
Over the sound of her own coughing, Calleigh heard Jacobs gasping for air and was alarmed to see Horatio practically choking the man. She also saw the two uniformed officers watching with looks of surprised amusement on their faces.
Groaning at the unbridled display of testosterone, she did her best to appear unfazed by Jacobs' split-second assault and stood, walking over to her boss.
"I'm okay," she said sternly as she neared Horatio.
The sound of her voice caused him to unconsciously ease his grip on the suspect. When he did, Jacobs put his arms up and pushed Horatio away.
"That's police brutality, motherfucker!" Jacobs wheezed as he massaged his short neck. "I'll sue your ass!"
Horatio looked at him with disdain as the officers grabbed Jacobs' arms and slapped the cuffs on him.
"I'd worry about your own ass where you're going, Ben," he replied snidely as he nodded to the officers. "Get him out of here."
The officers complied and took Jacobs out of the room, reading him his Miranda rights as they walked away. Calleigh watched, taking a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. Her wrist was smarting from the way Jacobs had twisted it, but she didn't touch it.
She did not want to appear injured in front of Horatio.
He, however, was not fooled. Tapping his fingers against his belt, he studied her. When she tucked her hair behind her ear, he knew she was more shaken up than she was letting on.
"You okay?" he asked softly, leaning closer to her in an offering of support. When she nodded and stepped away from him, it was all he could do to keep from sighing in frustration. She glanced up and gave him a pseudo-smile.
"I'm fine."
He looked at her skeptically and she shrugged in response.
"It's not the first time I've been knocked around, and it won't be the last," she said rubbing her forehead. "Sometimes it comes with the job. I'm used to it."
He refrained from rolling his eyes. "Of course you are," he thought as he reached down and picked up the contents of Jacobs' file.
"Alright then," he said instead. "You ready to head back?"
She was already at the door. "You know it."
He followed her out of the room. By her anxious demeanor, he expected her to retreat quickly back to the labs, so he was surprised when she stopped and waited for him.
Opting not to take her company for granted, he walked by her side in silence to the elevator. It wasn't an uneasy or uncomfortable silence, but it was noticeably pregnant with things unsaid. Horatio cast a glance over at her.
"Another bad guy off the streets," he said with some pride in his voice. "Good work today."
She hummed in response and glanced back at him. "Just like old times."
A smile spread on Horatio's face. "Just like old times," he concurred, as the elevator signaled its arrival with a "ding". He put his hand on Calleigh's lower back and ushered her in as the doors opened.
Despite the apprehension she had experienced earlier, warmth started to emanate from the place where he innocently touched her, and it spread quickly throughout her body. Stiffening, she prayed her cheeks wouldn't flush and give her body's reaction to him away.
Her movement was not lost on Horatio, however, who felt her tense up. Suddenly awash with disappointment, he removed his hand from her back and pushed the button that would take them to the labs.
Calleigh immediately noticed when his touch left her body. Instead of being grateful for the space, however, she found herself greatly saddened by the loss of his touch.
"What am I doing?" her internal voice asked.
She became so caught up in her own thoughts, that she didn't realize she was massaging her now very tender wrist.
"You really should have Tom take a look at that, Calleigh."
His low voice brought her back to the moment and she looked down at her hand. It was bright red with angry welts. She knew that it wouldn't be long before some ugly-looking bruises would form. Irritated with herself, she shook her hand loosely and let it hang by her side. She looked over at him and found his expression to be one of concern.
And that was not what she needed.
"Really, I'm fine," she said, trying to muster up as much confidence as she could. "Yes, my wrist is a little sore, but it isn't anything an ice pack and some aspirin won't fix."
She paused and looked down. She hated that she sounded so dismissive.
"If not for Horatio, Jacobs could have done a lot worse," she reasoned.
She looked back up at him. "Thank you, though," she said with a sincere smile, "for pulling that jackass off me."
He gave her a slight smile in return. "Anytime, ma'am."
They fell silent again as the elevator came to stop. Horatio held the doors open for Calleigh and followed as she stepped through them. Even though it was late in the day, the labs were still busy, bustling with staff running from points A to B to C.
They walked quietly before Calleigh stopped at the doors to the locker room. Horatio looked at her quizzically, wondering if she really was more injured by Jacobs' assault then she was letting on. Before he could say anything, however, she looked him in the eyes, her resolve firmly in place.
"If it's alright with you, I'd like to finish my report in the morning," she asked.
His eyebrows rose. Technically, her shift ended soon and she knew he wouldn't force her to stay. But the request itself surprised him. Calleigh never left before she had all the i's dotted and t's crossed in her work.
Then again, he reasoned, she hadn't worked late at all since that night in the ballistics lab.
"Maybe she's trying to tell me something," he thought sadly.
He tilted his head, yet maintained eye contact with her. "Okay," he told her as he looked into her green eyes. In those depths, he saw a strange combination of apprehension and admiration. "Big plans for tonight?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
A strange expression glanced over her face as she looked down the hall. When she didn't respond to his lame attempt to lighten the mood, Horatio started to kick himself for saying the wrong thing.
But Calleigh soon saved him from a mental slap, and looked back at him enigmatically.
"We'll see," she said. Then she turned, walked into the locker room and disappeared from his sight.
Confused by what she had meant, Horatio exhaled and shook his head as he headed down the hall to his office.
Calleigh closed the door to her locker and leaned her forehead against it. Her heart was pounding in her chest and part of her wanted nothing more to go home and lock herself in her bedroom.
The other part of her told her to get a move on: Horatio would be in his office by now.
"I don't want to be here when he finds that letter," she thought anxiously.
Looking down at her watch, she realized how late it actually was. She didn't have much time …
"I can do this," she urged herself as she took one last look in a nearby mirror. She straightened her shirt, flipped her golden strands behind her back and checked her cell phone. Content that she was as good as she was going to get, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door: Ready as she would ever be for what the night would bring.
"What is that?"
When he had opened his door, Horatio had immediately seen the plain white envelope contrasting brightly against the dark cherry wood of his desk.
Frowning, he walked over and picked the letter up. As he did, a soft, familiar scent wafted from it, telling him instantly whom it was from.
Not bothering to sit, he saw that it was unsealed and flipped the top up, pulling the index card-sized note out. He examined it briefly before turning it over.
There was a short message scribbled in the center of the paper. It was written in her all-too familiar handwriting:
Tonight. Guillermo's Café. 903 W. Flagler. 10:00 p.m.
A few simple words and yet they were the predecessors to something far more complicated.
He looked over and saw that the clock on the wall read 9:03 p.m.
Forgetting about his own report, Horatio folded the note in half and placed it in his jacket pocket.
"I guess she is trying to tell me something," he thought with a smile as he turned and walked out the door.
I just love it when Horatio gets rough - it doesn't happen that often but it's HOT when it does.
Who guessed what was in the envelope?
What will happen next?
I love me some reviews (hint, hint, hint). :)
