Locked Away – Chapter Eight

He swung to the curb in front of Dani Reese's apartment about 1:15PM and told the expensive lawyer in the three thousand dollar black Tom Ford suit with the purple tie to, "get in the back," as he climbed from the car. The lawyer was dumbfounded but precisely as he was told. The very rich cop instructed thoroughly and paid handsomely and he wasn't about to arguing about who sat where.

Crews himself was dressed in a nice Armani suit of olive green with a khaki colored shirt, a muted tie in earth tones and a pair of brown Johnston Murphy wingtips. He straightened his tie and then struck the front door of his partner's apartment soundly with all the knuckles of his right hand. While waiting, he glanced at the man quietly climbing into the backseat of his car. The lawyer was in his mid to late 40's, with a thick head of hair and a suitable pedigree. Constance said he was a notable defense attorney with a proven record of sticking it to the cops and that was enough for Charlie. Plus he paid him twice the man's hourly rate for freeing up his schedule with no notice.

Crews' instructions were simple. "Don't let them talk to her," he told the man.

"I don't know any of the case particulars," the lawyer objected.

"You don't need to," Crews said sternly. "Just don't…"

"Let them talk to her," the man repeated. "I got it."

The door opened behind him and he turned to find Reese still not dressed. "Come in," she bade and walked away from the open door.

"You're not dressed," he stated the obvious.

"Thanks Captain Obvious," she said sarcastically. "I can't figure out….It just feels weird…" she searched for the right way to explain the difficulty she was having.

"Too wear clothes again? After just prison orange and sweats for the past couple months?" he confirmed. It had for him too. It took awhile before he felt like he wasn't playing dress up with his dad's clothes.

She nodded. It figured that Crews would understand. He always did; it never failed.

"What are you most comfortable in?" he asked her thoughtfully.

"This," she gestured to the jeans and black tank top she was wearing.

"Then wear that," he offered.

She scowled fiercely.

"See," he pointed, "there's the Dani Reese I know and love. Where's your jacket?" he continued talking past his unprompted profession. 'The brown one you wore all the time when we first started?" He was going through her closet when her hand on his arm stopped him.

"Crews," she held him gently. "You don't have to be embarrassed about it. I know."

He turned and gave her a quizzical look; then his eyes focused on her shoes. "I'm sorry, I don't want to add to your stress," he apologized.

"Don't be sorry," she pulled him close by his lapel. "It's been too long since someone felt the way about me that you do." She didn't deliberate; she did what was in her heart kissing him quickly. "Now let's not keep your friends at IAD waiting." She wheeled and left just as quickly.

His lips burned from the fierceness of her kiss. He licked his bottom lip and tasted coffee and chocolate. All the times he'd thought about the first time he'd kiss Dani Reese, this was never the way it went. But then it figured that Reese would not stand idly by until he worked up the courage to softly touch his mouth to hers or that she would melt under his loving gaze. She was in charge of every facet of her life – or so she thought. He knew little of life is under our control, not even who we love or who loves us in return.

"Crews," she barked.

"Coming," he smiled as he heard the snap in her voice, the one he knew, the one that said she was good and getting better all the time. She'd never be the same, but no one is the same forever.


Tidwell looked positively green like someone who'd eaten a lot and been on too many carnival rides. He rose only slightly from his desk when he saw them enter the squad bay: Reese in her jeans, a burgundy leather jacket and dark blouse, trailing Crews and an expensive lawyer. Tidwell recognized the lawyer from the bus advertisements; he was a high priced defense counsel and ambulance chaser.

Charlie locked eyes with Tidwell and shook his head slightly. It was a "back off" signal if ever there was one. Tidwell ignored him entirely.

"Hey, Detective Reese," Tidwell made a big show of greeting her loudly and publicly.

"Welcome back," he smiled broadly, "you've been missed by everyone." He looked around the bay for confirmation and lots of heads that had been watching the show went back to their computers, phones or paperwork. Not one single person chimed in.

"Yeah," Dani said caustically, "I can tell."

"Crews," Tidwell said in acknowledgement of Dani's shadow, but his tone was laced with contempt.

"Captain," Crews replied somewhat neutrally, but with a heavily amount of distaste. "This is Bart Mannon, Defense Counsel." The lawyer completely unaware of the personal dynamic at work shook Tidwell's hand and smiled blithely.

"They're in here," Tidwell showed Dani and Mannon towards Interview Room 2. He tried to stop Crews at the door with his body.

"Get out of my way," Crews rumbled through gritted teeth. There was no neutrality in his tone, but it was low and only for Tidwell's ears.

"Uh, Detective Crews…" one of the two nondescript IAD suits tried to dismiss him too, "we'll just need Detective Reese, her counsel and her PBA rep, if she wants one, for this interview."

"Oh, I'm her PBA rep," Crews said brightly.

Everyone in the room, except Reese, looked stunned.

"You're a PBA rep?" Tidwell questioned.

"Yep," Charlie grinned and then quickly steered the Captain by the arm out of the room. "Everyone got a seat? Great! Let's get started," he chirped with far too much frivolity for an IAD interview.


Two hours later, the frustrated and flummoxed IAD suits left. They were stymied at nearly every point by either Crews' annoying Zen anecdotes, a mute Dani Reese or a repentant but staunch, "I'm afraid my client can't answer that," response from Mannon.

"You're not a friggin PBA rep," Tidwell whined under his breath to Crews as the IAD guys handed out business cards and excused themselves.

"Sure, I am," Crews boasted. "I'm police. I'm benevolent – to most people," his tone darkened. "And Reese and I are associated…ergo Police Benevolent Association."

"You're not on any of their rosters," Tidwell pointed out.

"Well," Crews turned and stared the Captain down taking full advantage of his several inches of height. "They have administrative burdens that outweigh their ability to keep accurate records. There has been a awful lot of police misconduct lately." He shook his head and made "tsk, tsk" sounds until Reese and her lawyer approached.

Mannon was thanked - quietly Crews and profusely by Reese and he caught a cab back to his office elsewhere in the city center.

Crews took Reese by the hand and led her to his waiting car in the parking garage. He said nothing along the way, but held her hand in the elevator, on the walk to the car and only released it when he'd put her safely in passenger seat. He rounded the car, sat down and shut his door, but did nothing else. They sat quietly together until finally Reese started to laugh.

At first, she sniggered and quickly stifled herself; then she looked at Crews and saw him grinning at her like and idiot. She began to laugh harder and his smile split into a genuine laugh. It was relief and release for both of them. They laughed until tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she had trouble breathing. She begged him to stop and he complied placing his hand over his mouth and willing himself to stop.

The car was still and silent for a moment, until he reached down unbuckled his seatbelt and deliberately leaned across the space separating them and kissed her.

It wasn't like their first kiss. She'd been in control there. She'd surprised him and he hadn't found his rhythm or footing, but here he was the aggressor. He kissed her as if kissing her was all he'd thought about all day, perhaps all week. She found her hands on him before she could recall putting them there. His tie was askew and shirt unbuttoned when the need for oxygen drove them apart.

"Maybe we should go somewhere," he suggested.

"Your place," she told him without any doubts in her mind. This man was going to be the death of her, but she was pretty sure she loved him anyway.


At his house, the sun was setting low in the sky and he rounded the car and led her by the hand, first into the house, then up the stairs into his bedroom. It was a room they had shared many times before, but this time would be different.

He stopped when they faced the bed and turned to look at her. His tie was still crooked and his shirt wildly unbuttoned. He looked like he'd been attacked, she realized and maybe he had….by her.

She reached for his tie and gently removed it, and then she finished his buttons as he shed his jacket. It fell with a soft crump into a heap on the floor. He pulled her tightly against him and fused his mouth hers as he undid his own cuffs behind her back. Her hands feverishly pushed the expensive shirt from his chest and shoulders. Only his white undershirt remained and she pulled insistently at it when his hands stopped hers and he pulled back.

"Dani," he said breathlessly, "there's a lot more than scars under there." His eyes held a warning. She watched him carefully for a moment while his breath returned and waited for the rest. "Remember those tattoos I said I had?"

She nodded.

"They're not pretty," he cautioned.

She stepped back and slowly, deliberately, took off her own shirt, pants and shoes. All that remained were her bra and panties, a nice matching ensemble of satiny burgundy fabric and lace. They were supposed to be attractive undergarments, but next to the skin of Dani Reese, they seemed pale and lusterless. She watched him watch her.

"I wanna see them, Crews," she told him while holding his eyes. "I wanna know what happened to you in there." They'd never talked about prison before. It was alluded to, hinted at, but it was a subject they'd deliberately avoided before. She was removing the final barriers between them and baring her soul as well as her body and she wanted him to do the same.

"Come to bed with me Charlie," she purred. She turned and as she'd done so many times before in the past week, she climbed into the bed, slid over and made room for him.

He knew part of this was lunacy, that they were both too broken, too damaged to do this long term. Part of their instinct to celebrate was the "high" of escaping the gloom of prison and then trouncing the IAD men soundly. They were drunk on life and it wouldn't last, but he couldn't stop himself. He'd been with a multitude of women since getting out of prison, but none that he'd fantasized more about than the tanned, dark haired beauty awaiting him now. It took a good fifteen seconds for his brain to divert the blood currently flowing to other areas and instruct his body to move. Part of him couldn't believe he was here, she was here and they were about to be one; but he licked his lips, took off his shoes and pants and climbed into bed beside her.