Dark Paradise – Chapter 12
It was several hours and two pots of coffee later. To be precise it was closing in on 3AM as Dani sat down on the edge of the bed yawned. She looked at the pile of pillows and the fluffy duvet longingly. She'd made the bed first – hours ago when she'd come up here to straighten up. Some people would say her choice was a Freudian slip exposing her desire to explore more than Crews' closet. She preferred to think of it as the biggest most noticeable thing she could tackle and show profound progress at. She'd pushed, pulled and dragged the mattress back onto the box spring, found the sheets reasonably clean and made the bed, throwing the duvet and pillows on it to bring order to one small patch of their universe. Now that patch of order beckoned to her. She lay down there and closed her eyes for just a moment and that was it. She was asleep in seconds.
Crews was exhausted. The kitchen was put back together – mostly. Dishes in the cupboard or drain board or dishwasher and furniture righted. The place was still messier than he liked, but cleaner and neater than most places he'd been. He wandered past the stove and noted the time was 2:48AM. He looked out the window at the sliver of moon in the clear sky and examined his watch. Was it really that late? He dragged himself up the stairs to check on Dani's progress and felt heavier with each step. God he hoped she'd made the bed. When he crossed the threshold of the doorway to his room, he smiled because she had. Then he realized she was lying there – in his room, in his bed and his heart swelled. He carefully took off just enough clothing to get comfortable and climbed into bed with her.
"Honey?" he nudged her gently. "Do you wanna take off your shoes?"
She grumbled and rose slowly to her elbows. "I should go home," she pronounced but her heart wasn't in the words.
"No," he said patiently, but firmly. "You should take off your clothes and come to bed."
"What?" she twisted her head and examined him with a skeptical eye.
"I said clothes didn't I?" He recited guiltily. "I meant shoes."
She paused for a second and then shucked her shoes and eased back into the bed. He gently slid an arm under her pillow and wrapped the other one loosely around her. She settled against his chest and her headed rested in the hollow of his shoulder. They both sighed in unison; then chuckled at the symmetry of their expression of relief.
"You totally meant clothes," she told him his accidental word choice wasn't such a surprise.
"You caught me," he admitted. "Now go to sleep," he instructed dropping a kiss into her hair. "Rest Dani," he mumbled as sleep took them both.
In a room, far away, a dark haired woman watched a closed circuit camera with much interest. Smoke curled around her head from the hand rolled cigarette she smoked. She pulled a mobile phone from her pocket and dialed a number.
"Yes," she spoke with a clipped British accent, "I'm quite aware of the time. Mr. Rayborne asked that we wake him if anything interesting developed. It has."
About ten minutes later, Mickey Rayborne appeared in the doorway of the darkened room. He was wearing pajamas and wrapped in a navy housecoat or smoking jacket. Even woken from a dead sleep he looked composed and neat. He'd obviously dressed, washed his face and combed his hair before visiting her.
"Must you smoke in my house?"
Amanda Puryer regarded him was the studied indifference of a cat and ignored his question entirely. He was still her employer and he paid her handsomely, but he was a bit of an ass.
"Yes, well…you asked me to alert you – immediately – to any developments?" She invited his attention to the grainy image of Crews' bedroom. "We took the liberty of installing cameras in most of his house after the LAPD released it. This occurred just a few moments ago."
Rayborne leaned close and examined the pair curled up in Crews' bed on the small TV screen. "Turn it off," Rayborne snapped.
"But you…" she argued.
"I said…TURN IT OFF," he shouted angrily.
She switched the television screen off, but left the digital video recorder running in the background. He'd asked for this and she didn't know why her doing precisely what he'd asked angered him so. It was worth keeping the video. One never knew when that sort of thing might come in handy she reasoned.
"You don't spy on a man in his bedroom," Rayborne grumbled.
She was silent, took a long draw off her cigarette allowing the smoke to fill her lungs, and quietly, but deliberately exhaled it above her head.
"You don't spy on man in his bed," Rayborne repeated less emphatically.
"You asked me to monitor their relationship," she objected in her clipped, precise speech. "I simply did as you requested."
He nodded so she continued.
"Yes, well…it would seem that Detective Reese and Mr. Crews are somewhat more than partners."
He again nodded.
"Shall we continue?"
"Yes," he agreed. "But if anything more exotic than them cuddling occurs, I do NOT want that taped," he gestured to the still running digital video. Little escaped his notice and this had not. "If I find out you are taping them…" he intimated things might get more graphic, "I'm going to be quite disappointed in you."
"Clearly," she studied her nails, "I have no interest in their sex life, but you seem to be quite interested in when and if they have one."
"I don't want to watch it," he hissed.
"Noted," she responded.
"What else have you learned?" he moved on.
"That Detective Reese has the materials from his closet," she revealed what she'd learned. It wasn't just the cameras they'd installed. The house was wired for sound too and she had been eavesdropping most of the night. "She took them before LAPD searched the house. Apparently," she paused for effect, "they've been in the boot of her car the whole time." She smiled at her discovery knowing it would please her employer.
"Dani," he exhaled in relief. "You clever little girl," there was a certain pride in his voice when he said it. "All this time we've been looking, been having our people look and she had it all in the trunk of her car." He chuckled and seemed truly pleased for the first time that night.
"Get the car," he demanded as he left.
"How?" she asked.
"I don't care," he threw back over his shoulder. "Just do it. I want what was in that closet. Just get it. That's what I pay you for," his anger returned as he stalked off into the dark.