COMING HOME

Chapter 10

The next few days found Horatio busy with the condo. He unpacked all his books and CDs and returned them to the shelves. He didn't need to sort them, since he had a built-in resistance to throwing out books or music. Then he turned to the other boxes that he hadn't opened in the storage unit. His pace slowed as he uncovered… memories. A photo album with pictures of his team. They used to take one every Christmas… These went back to the beginning. There was Calleigh, looking slender and girly; Megan, with whom he had never achieved a working relationship; Tim Speedle, who had died in front of him from a gunshot; and himself, ridiculously young. He turned the pages slowly. Much of his history was there. Eric, joining the group. Natalia… Frank Tripp started to appear in the pictures, a sort of honorary team member. Later, Ryan, then Walter, and Jesse… Poor Jesse, dying in a stupid freak accident… And himself, getting older. His eyes filled with tears. So many losses, so many years…

He wondered if they had kept up the Christmas tradition, and resolved to ask Eric. He thought he'd like to bring the album up to date.

There was a bundle of photos of Marisol. He had never enlarged or framed any of them, and he wasn't sure why. True, their relationship had been short, but he had a sneaking feeling of having short-changed her. Why wouldn't a man have a picture of his wife on the wall? His late wife… Perhaps he'd correct the omission. If he stayed…

He went to make a coffee, and stepped out to the balcony. He leaned on the rail and gazed at the sea. It still didn't quite feel like home. But where did? He'd been wandering for too long and was tired of it. He knew he didn't have the mental energy to pack a bag and drive away again. And, in truth, the memories of this place, of the lab, of Miami in general, were mainly good. He thought about the previous evening, of Calleigh and Eric being nothing but welcoming and glad to see him. Even if he didn't deserve their loyalty, it seemed his friends were still his friends. He'd be a fool to leave again, at least for a few years…

He returned to his boxes. It was a slow process, because he kept stopping to read, and handle things, and remember. Even so, he completed the task in time to take a short run on the beach, which relieved the growing depression, before dinner.

He wasn't a great believer in to-do lists, but he knew he'd need a shopping list. Particularly for stuff for the kitchen. Seven years of uncaring tenants had left mismatched and damaged pots, plates, glasses and silverware. He knew, whatever long-term plans he made, he would not rent the place out again. He'd either stay, or sell it. For now though, he turned out cupboards and drawers, and made lists. Surprisingly, stuffed at the back of a cupboard, he found his missing drapes. Presumably someone had just disliked them… He pulled them out, and put them in the washing machine.

Rather lazily, but not fancying parking, and Miami's crowds, he spent much of the morning shopping on-line. When the drapes were washed, he hung them, wet, on the existing pole. The warm breeze from the open balcony doors would dry them in no time.

He began to think about vehicles. He liked cars, but the Jeep was getting old, and was too big for his needs now. With its high mileage, he knew it wasn't worth much. Even so, he felt an odd reluctance to dispatch his trusty travel-mate to a dealer. He went back on-line to study cars. His expensive tastes were still dominant, he realised. He perused Lexus, Audi and Mercedes-Benz… Most now made 'baby' cars – compacts – but he wasn't sure he wanted one. He knew he'd have to watch his savings – he was spending money like water at the moment…

With an exchange in mind, he went downstairs, emptied and brushed out the Jeep, returned the almost unused back seats to their upright position, then took the vehicle to the car wash. And that was all he'd do today… since he had no clearer idea of what car he wanted, and he'd need a whole day to visit various dealers. He'd been lucky seven years ago. He'd bought the Jeep on a whim, and had ended up with one of the best cars he'd ever owned.

The following day was scorching hot. Not a 'visiting car dealers' sort of day. Horatio went out and bought two new recliners, and two tubs – ready-planted – cheating, Horatio – of flowers, for the balcony. The garden shop was persuaded to deliver them that afternoon. By evening, sitting on the balcony, with a beer in his hand, watching the sun setting, Horatio felt the first stirrings of 'home'. It was too hot to run, and he had an early night. Home…

"I've heard a rumor, boss…" Ryan caught Eric, on his way through the lab.

Eric paused, waiting for more. Ryan was not, by nature, a gossip, nor a listener to rumors.

"I've heard that Horatio's back."

"Where the hell did you hear that?"

"Oh… around…" Ryan said vaguely.

Eric was surprised, but not exceptionally. He knew all about the lab grapevine; knew that much of it originated in the police department. Even so…

"Is it true?"

Eric didn't think he could lie convincingly about this. "It is. I didn't know it was public knowledge."

"I really don't know where it came from. How is he?"

"He's okay. Does everyone know?"

"Pretty much. Do you think he'll come in and visit?"

"I don't know, Ryan! Not immediately, I wouldn't think. He's got to settle in…"

"I understand, but the old hands want to see him, and the new ones want to meet him."

Eric chuckled. Even after seven years, Horatio still made waves.

"Leave him alone for now, Ryan. I'm sure he'll get curious about the new lab before long."

Ryan nodded, and went on his way. Eric returned to his office. He thought he should warn Horatio, and picked up the phone.

"H? How you doing?"

"Fine. Thinking about changing cars… I'm thinking about buying used, rather than new. Avoid the depreciation hit. Though I'll miss the new car smell."

"You can buy that smell in a spray, you know. Dealers use it. Look, you should know… word seems to have got out that you're back in Miami. Now it wasn't me, and I doubt it was Calleigh…"

"It's not a secret really… Anyway, I met… oh, what's his name? Lopez? Short tubby guy… One of the uniforms – PD, I mean. I met him in the garden place – he seemed to recognise me… We gave each other a sort of doubtful smile. It's probably come from there."

"Probably. So you're all right with it?"

"Have to be. I just don't want… visitors. Apart from you and Cal, of course. But the others never did visit my home, so there's no reason they should start."

"They want you to come in and see the new lab."

"I will. I'd like to see it. I drove past the old place a couple of days back – empty and covered in scaffolding." He sounded sad. "So I will come in. Just not yet. Give me time."

"Do you want any more help from me? Looking at cars, for instance?"

"Only if you want to. I haven't decided what I want yet. Aren't you busy?"

Eric chuckled. "Very, but I like looking at cars."

The next day, when he called, Eric was too busy, and Horatio trawled the dealers alone. By lunchtime, he was no nearer deciding, and had received depressing offers on the Jeep. True, he could sell it privately, but the hassle was too much. After a quick sandwich, he headed for the largest used car dealer in the city. Acres of vehicles, all makes…

He walked slowly along lines of compacts, Ford, Chrysler, Honda… but he was drawn inexorably towards the 'luxury' end. He paused by a Jaguar roadster. Barely six months old, and well outside his budget. Anyway, he argued with himself, a soft-top seemed to indicate an old man trying to be young. And convertibles were less suited to Miami's weather than one might suppose. There were sudden unexpected downpours, and, in truth, he preferred the comfort of air-conditioning. He walked on, pausing in front of a snow-white Mercedes-Benz coupe.

A keen-eyed salesman approached. "It's a lovely vehicle, Sir… Two years old. Very low mileage…"

Horatio said, "Mmm," non-committedly. It was though. Understated, compared with some. All the curves in the right places.

The salesman hopped into the car. "Listen." He started the engine and a deep-throated growl came from under the hood. Horatio smiled faintly. The salesman blipped the throttle and a powerful roar emanated from the car. Horatio couldn't stop his grin.

As the salesman joined him, Horatio said, "Wow, that is the sexiest noise I've heard from a vehicle in a long time."

"AMG engine." At Horatio's questioning look, he elaborated. "Subsidiary of Benz – they make their racing engines. Here, take it out for a while."

He got into the passenger seat, while Horatio took the driver's. As he eased the car out of the lot and onto the highway, he realised everything about it appealed, from the cocooning leather seats, to the handling – light but not too light – to the throaty engine. He could feel the power there, even if there was nowhere to test it.

The salesman sensed a done deal. "You like?"

"I do. It's more than I intended to pay."

"Do you have a trade-in?"

"Yes, but it may not interest you. Jeep, high mileage…"

"Oh, I'm sure we can do something. Let's take her back and go and talk turkey."

TBC