Disclaimer: I don't own 'em….
Chapter 26: Catherine
The first thing that strikes me as we enter the newest scene is the constant 'clacking' sound of metal moving against metal.
As we move far enough into the house so that I see the source of the sound, I see that it's a caged rabbit throwing its body against a metal cage. "Well, we found the rabbit."
I'm not even sure that Sara hears me speaking. She seems to be in her own little world right now. She's like this at every scene, quietly taking in everything and making mental notes. Her mind works in ways that I can't even begin to fathom. I only wish that I could see a scene through her eyes once.
We pass an agent leaving from one of the inner rooms in the house. He mumbles, "False alarm, it's a suicide," as he passes us.
We enter the room where the victim was found and find a few agents standing near the body. I immediately sense that something is wrong. Sara's complexion turns ashen and her body tenses. Finger print powders and lift tapes scatter around the room as her kit crashes to the floor with a resounding thud. The only thing I can hear is the sound of rushing air leaving Sara's lungs as she struggles to stand on her own feet. I drop my kit beside me and reach out to steady her on her feet.
I faintly hear her whisper, "No, please, no. Squirt." My heart breaks at the tone in her voice.
I look up and see Aaron's lifeless body dangling from a rope. Anger at Liam and Spencer for not at least warning Sara what she was walking into immediately floods my senses. I wrap one arm around her shoulders to both steady her on her feet and comfort her, and the other takes her hand to lead her away from the crime scene.
We're standing outside in the chill of the night air and I'm trying to comfort Sara. I know she's in shock and not hearing a word I'm saying to her, but I think this is just as much for her benefit as it is for mine. I feel totally useless right now. Even though I had no idea until recently that Sara had a brother, I know how much she must have loved him. And for her to have to walk in and see his dead body hanging as people who have known her all of her life look on without having warned her—I can't imagine what she must be feeling. Damn that Liam and Spencer! When I get my hands on them…
Suddenly, Sara lurches away from me and runs to a corner of the alley and begins heaving. I stand back, giving her a moment, until I see her slide down against the wall and bury her face in her hands.
I walk over to where she's sitting and kneel down in front of her, "Come on. I'm taking you home."
She looks up into my face, but I'm still not certain my words have registered with her. As I reach out to take her hands in mine so that I can pull her to her feet, I hear the clamor of the coroner's stretcher against the uneven pavement. Sara has rediscovered her strength as she bolts to her feet and blocks the coroner from going any further.
He looks at me and then to Sara and backs away silently. She reaches out to touch the bag and jerks her hand back as if she has been burned. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and reaches out once again. This time she unzips the bag and focuses on the lifeless face of her baby brother. She just stands there, staring down at him. I know that given the opportunity, this is where she'll still be in an hour.
"Come on baby, we're going home," I say as I zip the bag up and take her hand in mine and pull her close to me as we walk to the car.
The drive back to the house we're living in is made in silence. Sara's silently crying and fuming over the loss of her brother. I'm sure that despite her grief stricken state of mind, she's trying to piece together why he'd kill himself. I can't picture Sara ever giving up on life, so I'm sure she's questioning as to whether or not Aaron actually took his own life.
We pull into the garage and she makes no effort to get out of the car. We sit there enveloped in silence before I finally reach over to take her hand in mine. As our flesh makes contact, she jerks away and opens the door in one fluid motion. I let her go, not wanting to fight with her. I usually enjoy fighting with her, but I think it's neither fair nor wise to attack a wounded animal. And right now, Sara has been backed into a corner. She'll come out fighting if I push the least little bit now.
I wait a few minutes before following her into the house. As I reach the base of the stairs, I find her shirt lying on the floor. Halfway up the stairs, I find her bra. Her shoes are at the landing of the stairs. Just past my bedroom door, I find her pants. I gather each piece as I make my way towards her room. As I reach her door and her underwear, I can hear the shower running. I step inside her room and toss her shoes into a corner and put the clothes in a pile with the rest of what I assume to be her dirty clothes.
Part of me wants to walk into the bathroom and make sure she's okay—even though I know she's not. I want to take her in my arms and make all of this better—to wipe away the stain of her brother's apparent suicide. I know Sara won't let me do that. She won't let me be that person.
I'm still musing about how to handle Sara when she emerges from her shower when the ringing phone brings me back to the present. I find the pants Sara had discarded in the hallway and fish her phone out of the pocket.
"Hello?" I answer her phone cautiously.
"Who is this?" says a familiar voice on the other end of the phone.
"Uh, you called this phone and you don't know who you're speaking to?"
The man on the other end chuckles before continuing, "Well, Ms. Willows, I didn't expect you to answer Ms. Sidle's phone."
Suddenly, anger fills me and brims over. I step into the hallway so that there's little chance of Sara overhearing any part of my conversation—even over the running water. "How the fuck could you not warn Sara that she was walking into her brother's suicide? You call yourself her friend?"
"I assure you, Ms. Willows, that I had no idea it was Aaron until I arrived on the scene. Spencer didn't even bother telling me who it was. I was just as surprised as Sara was when she got there."
I laugh sarcastically, "Really? Was it your brother hanging there?"
"No, but he might as well have been. I don't want to argue with you, but I do need to speak with Sara. I hadn't seen Aaron in a while and I know his kids need to be informed. I was going to deal with that so that Sara didn't have to. Could you put her on the phone?"
I flatly answer, "No," before closing the phone.
Sara's an aunt. Her brother has kids. There is no way—no way at all if she and Aaron shared any DNA—that he'd have killed himself. She'd never do that to me and even though I barely knew him, I'm certain Aaron wouldn't have done this to his family. And I'm certain that Sara is thinking the same thing. It's just all too convenient that he'd kill himself once some evidence started to appear.
A heart-rending shriek pierces my thoughts and I rush into the bathroom to find Sara crumpled on the floor of the shower. Without hesitation, I step between her and the spray of water and bend down to help her to her feet. She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck and as I stand, she clings to me like a second skin.
This is a side of Sara I've never seen. This is a broken Sara. With the water pelting my back through my clothes, I run one hand soothingly up and down her naked back as the other holds her head close against me. Silent sobs are wracking her body as she shivers and shudders against me.
"Shhhh. Things will be okay, Sar. I'm here. I've got you, babe," I attempt in vain to calm her. Her hold on me tightens.
"We're going to find out what happened, okay? But first, we need to get you out of here. We need…"
I'm caught off guard by her sudden movements as she spins me around and pushes me hard against the shower wall. She grips my shirt and rips it open as she invades my mouth with her tongue. This feels so wrong. This isn't how we're supposed to be with one another. I put my hands on her chest and push her back slightly, forcing her to look at me in surprise. Her eyes are darkened with more than desire.
"Sara, we…" She presses her body against me and her teeth sink into the warm softness that is my neck which only causes me to push her away roughly again. She runs her tongue along her top lip before gently biting her own bottom lip. She brings her hands up and covers mine with her own. Her hands slide down to grip my wrists, twisting them roughly behind my back and pinning them there by pushing against me even harder.
She runs her tongue along my jaw as her fingers move down my stomach. I try to push off the wall, to stop this—this—this whatever it is. Sara continues to move one hand slowly down my stomach as she brings her other arm to my throat and pushes firmly against it. My eyes meet hers and my movements immediately cease.
"I thought you'd see things my way," she says huskily before roughly slipping her hand into my pants. As she attacks my clit with need and desperation, I close my eyes and try to imagine that this isn't happening. I'm not going to fight her. She obviously needs to feel something—to feel some connection to humanity—to be anchored and grounded to this moment.
She had been my lover—my equal—my partner in all things. But in this moment, she is a stranger. Her touch is alien and unfamiliar. I've never felt anything like this with her. I know she wants a connection, but all I'm feeling is disconnected. Her hands, mouth, even her smell both repulses and frightens me. I've heard rape victims say that they imagine something else is happening to survive the most extreme violation that a woman can suffer. And that's exactly what I'm doing.
I close my eyes and focus on breathing. I'm on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean. The sun is beating down on me as I sip a colorful drink adorned with an umbrella. The waves are lapping at my feet.
As quickly as they had started, Sara's movements stop. Her fingers are still on my clit, but they're no longer moving. The pressure on my throat disappears. I open my eyes and look into Sara's and it's like she's seeing me for the first time. Without breaking eye contact, she slowly withdraws her hand from my pants. She takes a step back and opens her mouth to speak, only no words make it out.
She drops her head and steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and heading into the bedroom. I don't look in her direction. Instead, I pull my drenched clothes off and toss them on the bathroom floor. I grab Sara's soap and try to scrub away the sick feeling that's crawling all over my body. I scrub until my skin is pink and tender to the touch and then I scrub some more.
I stand under the water until it turns cold and then I will myself to turn it off and step out. I'm standing there, a hand on either side of the sink to hold myself up, and staring into the mirror. I don't recognize the woman staring back at me—much like I didn't recognize the woman who had just touched me. I turn my head to the side and take stock of the harsh, dark bite mark that she left on my skin. I want so badly to cry, but I don't want to give into the overwhelming emotions that are coursing through me.
I feel so many things on a countless number of levels. I'm angry that Sara would force herself on me like she did. I'm pissed that I wasn't strong enough to fight back. I'm livid that I gave up so easily and let her do what she did. I'm irritated that there's this part of me that wants to rationalize her behavior when there's nothing that justifies it or my passivity. And I'm scared that if it happens again, I won't be able to fight it—to fight her—not when her need is so….desperate. When it comes to Sara, the one thing I'm most scared of is my own weakness.
I wrap the towel around me, intent on walking to my room and going to bed. Once I open the door to the bedroom and step into it, I can hear Sara gently crying. As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, I can make out her naked form lying on the bed. She looks almost childlike with her slight frame drawn into the fetal position.
I stand there fighting the urge to go to her. I want to take her in my arms, but thinking about what just happened in the shower stops me in my tracks. Weak. That's what Sara makes me. I take a few more steps toward the door of her room so that I can leave when a single hushed word makes it way to my ears.
"Why?"
My resolve is broken and my temporary walls tumble down. "Why what, Sara?"
My question is met with nothing other than silence. I turn back toward the door to leave when her voice stops me again. "Why him?" As the last word escapes her, she is shaking with shuddering sobs.
The fragile tone of her voice is my undoing. I crawl up beside her on the bed and wrap my arms around her.
"I don't know. I don't know why this happened, baby. It's not much, but I'm here—here for you," I offer.
"It's my fault," she says through her tears. "If it wasn't for me, none of this would be happening."
"First of all, this is not your fault. Second of all, you don't know that this is connected to the serial killer." Even I don't believe what I'm saying to her. I know just as well as she does that Aaron didn't kill himself.
"There are no coincidences, Cath. If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and looks like a duck, it's a duck. Aaron didn't kill himself. He was killed because of his connection to me. And this only proves that you're in danger—real danger—just by being here—just by being connected to me."
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, I smile at her duck analogy.
"You find something about this funny?" she says as she wipes at her eyes. "I don't find any levity in my brother's murder or the possibility of you being next."
"No, there's nothing funny about the situation. It was just your choice of ducks for the analogy. I just associated it with that supervisor I shared an office with—she put ducks everywhere." I run my hands up and down her back as she moves close enough to me to bury her face in the crook my neck.
"This just all seems so surreal, Cath. Oh my god," she says as pulls herself free of my embrace, "I need to call Dennis. The boys are with him and Jane."
I put my arms back around her and pull her back down on the bed. "Sar, Liam was going to call so that you didn't have to deal with this right now."
"It's not his responsibility. It's mine. He was my brother," her voice is ringing with annoyance.
Once again, she tries to pull free. I only tighten my grip on her. "I know Aaron was your brother. And I know you feel responsible, but let Liam deal with this. He owes you that much."
Sara lifts her face to look at me. In the darkness I can barely make out her features. I wish there was enough light in the room for me to see her eyes so that I could see what she was thinking right now. I lift my hand to her face and cup her cheek before closing the distance and brushing my lips against hers.
This kiss is different from any other kiss we've ever shared. There's an emotion here that's never existed—one that I can't quite name because I've never felt it before. The only thing that comes close in comparison is how I felt when I held Lindsey for the first time.
Sara shifts her weight, forcing the kiss to last longer than I intended. I pull back and she attempts to follow me, wanting and needing more contact. I brace my hand firmly against her shoulder and apply just enough pressure to get her to stop. Even in the dim lighting of the room, I can make out the desperation in her eyes.
"Cath, please." She breathes my name, but doesn't press.
My hand moves from her shoulder and moves along her neck to her jaw. She leans into my touch and closes her eyes.
"Open your eyes," I beg of her. She hesitates and then opens them. We stare into each other's eyes and bare our souls to one another. I lift slightly to make contact with her lips again, slowly and languidly taking her bottom lip between mine and gently sucking as I run my tongue along it. She reciprocates, sucking on my top lip. My hand moves to the back of her head and I idly run my fingers through her hair.
I pull back from the kiss again and hold her face in my hands. I search her eyes for something, and when I see it, I smile. "I love you." There's a confident and unyielding tone in my voice that I've never heard.
Tears immediately fill her eyes and threaten to spill over. She chokes back a sob and pulls back from me.
"No, you're not going anywhere," I firmly warn her as I roll over on top of her.
"I love you." I lower my head and find her pulse point, massaging it with my tongue.
"I love you." I move to her earlobe and suck lightly on it.
"I love you," I murmur against her lips.
Once again, I pull back from Sara and I see her for the first time—like this is the first time we've been in this position—the first time I've told her that I love her—the first time I've tasted her skin. In a way, this is the first time. It's the first time I've wanted and needed and desired her knowing everything I know about her. And I want more—more of her. I want to give myself to her completely and have her give of herself totally.
Never taking my eyes from hers, I slide one hand down her side, allowing it to come to rest on her hip. My full weight rests on her and my skin burns everywhere it touches her. Only one thing will quench this fire—making love to Sara.
XXXXX
"Cath, are you sure you want to do this now?" Sara said as she broke the kiss we had shared for the last several minutes.
I didn't respond verbally; instead, I grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her closer to me. My fingers fumbled nervously with her buttons.
"Hey, calm down," she spoke softly. "You can take your time, babe. We have all night. Or we don't have to do anything." She gently placed her hands over mine to still my movements.
I couldn't help but laugh at the situation out of sheer nervousness. Here I was with Sara—in her apartment—after another one of our dates. I felt like a teenager. I wanted her so badly. I needed her desperately.
My need and want were too great. I pushed her forcefully against the wall and gave up trying to gracefully undo her shirt. With a hand on either side of the buttons, I pulled in opposite directions hard, sending buttons careening off the wall, the floor, and the coffee table.
"I really liked that sh…" Sara found it hard to finish her sentence with my mouth covering hers.
She brought her hands up to cup my face, but I grabbed them and pushed them roughly against the wall above her head. The sound of her breath hitching turned me on incredibly and only amplified my arousal.
I pushed myself against her, forcing my leg between hers and up against her sex. Even through two layers of clothing, I could feel her flaming desire against my thigh. I ran my tongue over my top lip in anticipation. I could clearly picture Sara beneath me writhing in pleasure and uttering my name like a mantra…chanting it like a spell…praying to whatever unseen god who might be listening to deliver her.
No sooner does this vision enter my mind than I'm snapped back to reality by Sara. "Not like this, Cath."
I shake off her words and move in to kiss her as one hand moves down to her thigh, lifting it over my hip. She takes this moment and spins us around so that I find myself pinned against the wall. "I said, not like this, Cath."
She takes a step back from me and holds out her hand to me. I look down at it and back up to her face. Her smile puts me at ease and I finally reach out and let her take my hand in hers. Never taking her eyes from mine, we walk in knowing silence to her bedroom.
Once we enter her bedroom, all of the confidence and zest I had possessed in her living room leaves me. "I don't want our first time to be rushed. I don't want us fucking, Cath. I want to make love to you. I need to make love to you. The only thing desperate about this is how badly I want to show you just how much I love you."
It was with those words that I realized just how in love with Sara Sidle I was. And it was in the hours that followed that she showed me how in love with me she was.
XXXXXX
Sara and I have made love innumerable times while we were together, but this is different. At first, it was me exploring her body. I am like the captain of a sea-faring vessel venturing into unmapped waters. Each touch…every stroke…each taste…every response…I can't wrap my mind around everything I'm feeling. It's more intense and more passionate than anything I remember with her.
I keep coming back to the same description—that it's like I'm with Sara for the first time.
I roll onto my side so that we're facing each other. Our languorous kisses deepen and our hands begin to move over each other's bodies in a familiar dance. She brings her hand to my lips and I suck one of her fingers into my mouth, running my tongue along the length of it. Mimicking her movements, I bring my fingers to her lips and she kisses the tip of every finger before kissing my palm.
She pulls her finger free of the wet cavern that is my mouth and moves forward assaulting me with a feverish kiss that sends my senses into a tailspin. At the same time, our hands move lower on each other's bodies. The intensity of our lovemaking is too much for me to take, and I break the kiss, but not our physical connection. With labored breathing, we stare into each other's eyes intently. Each breath and every slight caress of each other's most intimate places brings us closer together. No words are spoken or needed as we near the apex of our joining. As if our fuses had been lit simultaneously, we climax together.
Our bodies are a tangled mess of sweaty limbs as we cling to one another. The only sound is that of pounding hearts and heavy breathing.
"Sar?" I say her name tenderly.
"Mmmhmm?"
I'm about to put myself out there and I won't blame her one bit if….
"I don't want to go another day without you. I need you. I need us. And I know the timing really sucks, but, well, there is no but. I love you. I never stopped loving you. I've made some mistakes—lots of mistakes. But the biggest one would be spending another day without you."
She pulls back from me and the expression on her face changes. The passion and desire that had been there is replaced with anger and confusion. She sits up and turns her back to me.
Her voice is even and her tone is angry, but controlled. "You slept with Ramirez. You didn't trust me. You believed everything that was said about me. You…you fucked Ramirez. You broke my heart, Cath. And my brother was just killed," she stands up from the bed and walks toward the window, her back still to me. "He was just murdered and you come in here and you tell me you love me…that you need me…that you want to be with me."
"Sara, I…" she puts up her hand and I immediately shut up.
"You're right. You have made some mistakes," her back is still to me, so I can't read her expression or figure out what she's thinking. "The least of which was fucking Ramirez. I don't understand how you could let that woman put her hands on you. How you could…you know what, it doesn't matter. It's over and done with. You can't change what you did."
I find my voice and decide to defend myself. "Sara, let's not forget that you had a girlfriend. Remember her? You were sleeping with her. How is that so different from me sleeping with someone?"
Sara turns around, her arms crossed over her bare chest protectively, and the tears flowing down her cheeks. "I didn't sleep with Adin to hurt you. The only reason you slept with Ramirez was to hurt me. That's the difference."
She crosses the room and sits back down the bed. "When you broke up with me, you devastated me. I wanted to die. I wanted to give up. I had wrapped all of my hopes and plans for the future up in you…in us. But I understood on some level why you did it. I didn't like it, but I understood it."
I reach out to touch her, but she flinches at my touch. "Sara, please. If you want me to beg, I will," I crawl out of the bed and immediately move to the floor in front of her on my knees. "See, here I am…begging. I love you. Please, forgive me. Give me…give us…another chance."
"Get off of your knees," she says to me as she holds her hand out to me. As she pulls me up, she stands and pulls me against her. "I love you, Cath. I never stopped loving you. But I don't want to lose you. You have to leave. Go back to Vegas. Once I'm done here, I'll come back and we can start again. But I'm afraid if you don't leave, something is going to happen. And baby," she lifts my chin to look me in the eyes, "if something happened to you, I don't think I could go on living. Being apart from you is one thing, but…" She chokes back a sob.
"Is this really what you want? For me to leave? I really think you need me here right now, Sara."
"I can't do what needs to be done if you're here. I'll be worried about you instead of focused on finding the killer."
On one hand I can understand Sara's concerns. But on the other, she's going through a lot right now and if the shoe was on the other foot, I know she'd insist on being there for me.
"I don't want to leave you. I don't want you here alone. If I'm here, I can protect you. We can look out for each other," I offer.
She goes to speak, but the ringing of her phone interrupts her. She reaches for her phone and flips it open. "Sidle…Yes…I know her…How?...When?...Where?...Yes, thank you."
I'm only privy to her end of the conversation, but from the look on her face, I can tell that the news isn't good. She shuts her phone and stands frozen in place for a moment.
"Sara?" She turns around and looks at me blankly. "What's wrong, babe?"
She moves toward the dresser in the room and starts taking out clothes and pulling them on.
"Sara, tell me what's wrong. Who was that on the phone?"
She sits on the edge of the bed and starts putting on her boots. "That was Liam. He got a call from a detective in Barstow. They found Adin's body this morning."
"Sara," I sit down beside her and put my arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, babe."
She covers her face with her hands and takes a few deep breaths. "This just proves I'm right. You have to get out of here. There's only one woman left—you."
She pushes past me and leaves her room. I know where she's going. She's going to pack my things and send me away. Resigned, I follow her.
She's tossing my clothes haphazardly into my suitcase. "At least fold my things before you throw them in the bag." I chide her as I take the clothes out that she's tossing in and fold them carefully.
She doesn't look up—she's focused on what she's doing. "You'll buy a ticket at the airport. This way no one has time to do anything before you get on the flight. Once you get to Vegas, get Brass to give you a detail. I hate to admit it, but I'd feel a lot better if Sofia has your back. I know she won't let anything happen to you. Don't work in the field. I know Griss won't give you more time off, but at least make him keep you in the lab. The less you're out in the open, the fewer chances there are of something happening to you."
I don't think she took a single breath while she was rattling off her directions. I take the time to grab some of the clothes she's throwing in my bag and put them on. I like being naked—but not when I'm the only one.
"Stay with Nancy or get Lilly to stay with you. There's safety in numbers. I know you wouldn't dream of letting Linds miss school, but she's in as much danger as you are. If at all possible, don't send her to school. Don't open the door if anyone knocks on it unless you know them. If something happens while you're driving, don't get out of the car. If a cop pulls you over, call Brass and confirm that it's one of our guys pulling you over. You have to be extra…"
I grab her by the wrist and pull her towards me. "I'll be fine, Sara. Nothing is going to happen to me. It's you that I'm worried about." I fight hard to keep the tears at bay. Here she is worrying about me, but from where I sit, her life is in just as much danger as mine.
"Cath, nothing is going to happen to me. The killer is eliminating the people I've been close to. If he had wanted me dead, he'd have killed me a long time ago. There have been so many opportunities, and yet, none have been taken."
An hour later, I find myself standing in front of a very rude woman who's trying to convince me that I need a first class ticket to fly to Vegas. Sara couldn't come in with me because a meeting had been called at headquarters and she didn't want to miss it. After haggling with the bitch behind the counter, I finally get a ticket. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to wait nearly two hours for my flight.
XXXXXXX
I'm sitting there flipping through a magazine I picked up in one of the airport stores when out of the corner of my eye I notice a man dressed in a security guard's uniform approaching me. Sara's warnings immediately surface.
"Excuse me," he says in a firm voice. "Are you Catherine Willows?"
I'm hesitant to answer. Is this for real or part of the killer's scheme? Then again, there's no way that the killer would know that I'm waiting on a flight. But, the killer has managed to elude the authorities for the longest time.
"Are you Catherine Willows?" he asks again, obviously annoyed that I failed to answer the first time he asked the question.
"Yes, I'm Catherine Willows."
"Excellent. There's an emergency phone call for you—an FBI agent by the name of Ramirez. If you'll follow me, I'll show you where you can take the call."
I follow the stocky security guard to one of the airline counters. He speaks to the woman behind the counter and before I know it, a phone is being extended in my direction.
"Willows."
"Catherine, Ms. Sidle never made it to the meeting at headquarters. We tried her phone several times, but she never answered. We were able to run a trace on it and…"
"Wait…what? What are you saying?" My mind was swimming with images of an injured Sara.
"She's okay, Catherine. We were able to run a trace on the GPS chip in her phone. We found her, but she's banged up pretty good. She's asking for you. I'll swing by and pick you up and take you her."
"No, that's okay. What hospital is she in? I'll call a taxi."
"Nonsense, Catherine. I'm already here. Just come out front. I'll make sure you get there."
I think about the situation for a moment before making a decision that I'm certain I'll come to regret later. If I ignore the situation and still get on the plane and Sara really was injured, I'll never forgive myself. If I don't get on the plane and go with Ramirez and this turns out to be a trap, I'll have let Sara down. Hell, either way I'll be letting Sara down.
"Fine, I'll be out front in a few minutes."
XXXXXX
"What hospital did you say she was in?" I'm starting to grow suspicious of Sara's accident. As unfamiliar as I am with this town and the surrounding area, I'm certain that we're heading away from any hospitals.
"Mac, seriously, what hospital is Sara in?" I'm paying close attention to the surroundings. "Where did you find her?"
Just as I turn to face her again, I catch a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye as Ramriez extends her arm in my direction. I feel something make contact with my neck. In the next instant, it feels like a million needles are being forced under my skin. Everything turns black.
XXXXXX
I'm lying on a cement floor when I start to regain my senses. Actually, it wasn't so much me regaining my senses as it was someone pouring water on me that brought me to.
"I thought I made myself clear. I wanted her brought to me in pristine condition. And instead, you've brought me damaged goods. This is not good, MacKenzie." Through the haze that's still clouding my brain I can't make out who the man is that's speaking.
"I'm sorry," Ramirez says. "She was getting suspicious. She kept asking about her. I wasn't sure how long I could stall on answering her questions. It's just a couple of marks on her neck. Other than that, she's in perfect condition. She can still be your masterpiece."
"My masterpiece? She's flawed. She's marked. A masterpiece cannot have any flaws. You're useless. You have ruined this completely," the man's voice bellows throughout the room. From the echo, I can only guess that I'm in a warehouse of sorts.
I hear the familiar click of a slide being drawn back on a gun and then the resonating sound of a gunshot. This is followed by a body falling onto the floor beside me. It's the body of Agent Ramirez.
It's in this instant that I realize I am unable to move. My panic and fear increase exponentially as I see the dead agent's blood oozing across the floor, inching closer and closer to me. I notice MacKenzie's still open eyes staring lifelessly across the pool of red at me.
A gun is tossed down on her body. Because I'm lying on my side, I'm unable to see all of my surroundings. The room starts to move and the distance between me and the blood pool is increasing. I can only assume that I'm being dragged away.
Suddenly the room stops moving and I deduce that my captor has moved me to where he wants me. I've still yet to see his face and I don't recognize his voice.
"My dear, dear Catherine. I feel like I know you," he speaks softly. The lilt in his voice hints at him being highly educated.
"I'm sorry we have to meet under such…despicable…circumstances. Oh, I must apologize for your inability to move. Unlike my barbaric friend Ramirez, I didn't want to subdue you with a stun gun. Instead, I opted for pancuronium bromide. As a crime scene investigator, I'm certain that you're familiar with this drug. It induces muscle paralysis. As a matter of fact, I believe you've seen it used before—at an execution."
I can hear him pacing behind me—his heels clicking on the floor.
"I'm neither sick nor psychotic. Before we continue, I want you to know that it is only out of love that I do this. You see, you hurt someone very dear to me. Someone that I would do anything for. Someone that I would sacrifice everything for. And yet you—you who held her happiness in your hands—you so heartlessly crushed her."
I try to move my mouth to ask a question, but I can't. This is pure torture. I'm painfully aware of my surroundings. I can see, smell and hear everything. I can feel things. But I'm unable to move.
"Oh, Catherine, I'm sorry. See you can't move or talk. So you'll just have to listen. Perhaps had you done more listening, you wouldn't be in this situation now."
I hear a chair being dragged across the floor and sat down beside me. The voice takes a seat and with his foot, he rolls me onto my back. He leans over and looks down at me. "You see," he says, "no one hurts Sara and lives to tell about it."
IMMI: I hope part of this made you happy ;-)