She has a collection of adorable sound effects. My favorite is this special squeak for when she's cold.
-Stephen Eklund, 26, Alexandria, Va.I heard it twice, but I immediately loved it. It was one of those things I wanted to hear, but knew it would be a special circumstances in which I would. I equated it to her being a screamer; something that I would be lucky to find true.
Nonetheless, I got to hear it twice. Only twice. I didn't think of it as a thing she always did at first, until the third time. I wasn't expecting it, and when I did hear it, I literally stopped.
We were at a crime scene, and it was late in the winter. There was snow falling, and the breeze was causing a cold wind chill. Her jacket had mysteriously disappeared, and she ended up wearing only her purple sweater. She left her hair down, seeing as her neck was going to get cold. At first, Zane gave her a look. She shrugged it off, saying she would be fine. I didn't believe her, but didn't say anything. When we got to the field where the body had been found, she wrapped her arms around her body. I saw her shiver as the wind hit her, and I saw the goose bumps on her neck.
"Cold, Amester?" I asked her, and she glared at me.
"Not one bit." She said, and I rolled my eyes. We went back to work, and I turned around when I heard it.
A quiet squeak coming from her direction.
I turned around, looking directly at her. She was kneeling down on the ground, picking up a piece of paper. I watched her closely, and when she saw me starring she gave me a look.
"What Holt?" She asked, and I shook my head.
"Nothing." I said, looking away. She didn't ask me again until we were in the truck.
"What was that look?" She asked, sitting right next to me. Peter looked at me from the other side of Amy.
"What look?" I asked, and she pointed at me.
"That look you gave me earlier." She said, and Peter rolled his eyes. He sat back in his seat and I looked at Amy.
"I don't remember giving you a look." I said, and Peter chuckled.
"You guys give each other so many, that's not surprising."
I glared at Peter, and Amy slapped my arm.
"At least he is being honest." She said, sitting back in her seat. I sighed.
"I am being honest though." I said, and Amy laughed.
"Ha, no you aren't. You gave me a look."
"If you know I gave you a look, why are you asking?" I shot back. She stared at me.
"Because, I want to know what that meant." She said. Peter opened his mouth, but I silenced him with a look.
"I've never heard you squeak before." I said, and she furrowed her brow.
"What?" She asked. I grimaced, watching where I was driving.
"I've never heard you squeak before." I said again, and she rolled her eyes.
"I've squeaked before." She said, and I shook my head.
"I've never heard it." I lied, and she rolled her eyes.
"Yes, you have." She said. My cell phone went off, and I answered it.
"Holt, new crime scene." Zane said, and I groaned. I took the address, and we drove to the new crime scene. When we got out, I saw the goose bumps again on Amy's neck. I sighed, taking off my jacket and handing it to her. She looked at me, then the jacket.
"I don't need it." She said, and I shook my head.
"You're cold." I said, and she put her hand on her hip.
"No, I'm not." She said, and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, you are." I said, and she raised her eyebrows at me.
"How do you know?" She took a step towards me, her voice low. I stopped, knowing I was caught. She smirked at me, taking the jacket from my hand and slipping it over her shoulders. It was huge on her, but she looked good in it anyway. She smirked at me as she walked away, and Peter walked up next to me.
"She caught you." He said, and I looked at him. I looked back at Amy, watching as she bent down and picked up a bloody shirt. I couldn't see anything because my jacket covered it.
"You think Petey?" I snapped at him before moving away. I heard him stutter, then move to get back to work.
Let's just say, I happened to hear that squeak more and more. I didn't know if I was dreaming it, or if she was actually squeaking. That, and a little click she made with her tongue when she was biting back laughter. There was also a gagging noise she made when something stunk, or a sucking noise when something tension filled was happening.
But, out of all of them, my favorite by far was her squeak.
Because I knew; she squeaked, and I had a reason to see her wrapped up in my jacket.
