He saw Nigel's car behind a tall shrubbery, out of the line of sight of the front door. When he approached, Nigel looked up and smiled, relieved, waving at him. Horatio returned the smile as he slowed to a stop at the curb and climb out of the car. Nigel met him halfway, and Horatio took the opportunity to slide his arms around his waist and pull him up against him.
Nigel smirked at him. "Don't make me file a sexual harassment complaint, Horatio," he said slyly, despite the fact that both his hands were resting on his chest.
"If this is what you consider harassment," Horatio said in a low voice as he leaned in towards Nigel, "then I shudder to think what you would call last night--"
"Aren't you two just adorable?"
Horatio, mildly agitated, turned his head and saw Jordan leaning against Nigel's car with her arms crossed over her chest and a smug grin on her face. He forced a smile but didn't bother to release his grip on Nigel's waist.
"Jordan, you timing leaves something to something to be desired," said Nigel evenly.
She just ginned at him before turning her attention to Horatio: "Is someone on the way?"
"A S.W.A.T. and a few detectives," he replied. "They should be here soon. Is there anything on the grounds I should know about?"
"Clean as far as I can see," Nigel said. "The cartridge casings are by the rubbish bin; they're .233, in accordance with the bullets in Lester's head -- Alexx finished post and confirmed it."
"I assume you took pictures."
"You doubted me?"
Horatio smiled. "How could I ever? By the way, what sort of car is in the driveway?"
"Err…" Nigel fell silent for a moment. "I think it's an SUV."
"Hmm. Black?"
"Yeah, why? What does that mean?"
"It means," Horatio said as he heard the black S.W.A.T. van rattle down the street toward them, "that our getaway car is parked here."
"The sniper had a getaway car?"
"Eric's working on the casting of the tire treads right now," he confirmed. The van came to a clattering halt behind him and Horatio heard the already quiet engine go silent. He released Nigel's waist and turned in time to see the head of S.W.A.T. climbing out of the driver-side door. His heavy black armour, combat boots and gloves seemed like far too much for the sweltering, ninety-two-degree day, but Horatio imagined that they were used to it.
"Lieutenant," he greeted as the door slammed behind him and he headed over with an outstretched hand, which Horatio took in a firm handshake.
"Hopkins. Long time, no see," he replied. He'd worked with Earl Hopkins before; he was a good man, with dark skin, hair and eyes, and he was built like a draft horse. "It's good to be working with you again. This is Dr. Nigel Townsend," he continued, motioning to him with one hand. Nigel smiled and shook Hopkins's hand as well.
"Pleasure to meet you," Nigel said.
"Likewise," replied Hopkins. "So what is it, exactly, that we have, here?"
"Well, we have two to three suspects inside," Horatio began, "probably armed and certainly dangerous."
"Is the perimeter clear?"
"I had a look about," said Nigel. "I didn't see anything out-of-the-ordinary, but I'd be on my toes. They're apparently willing to go to great lengths to make sure they get out unscathed." Blocking the light of the sun with one hand, Nigel squinted over the top of the mountainous shrubbery, over which he could see the very tip of the house. "I think we might have the upper hand, though; I don't think they know we're here."
"Well, at least there's that," Hopkins sighed. He turned and headed back over to the van where a few moments later, Horatio heard the heavy doors open, followed by several pairs of feet hitting the ground.
"Cool, S.W.A.T.," Nigel said with a grin. "You always see them on the telly, but never in person."
"You'll be sick of them before long," Horatio predicted as he rested one hand on his waist and used the other to slide his sunglasses off. "We always seem to be working together."
Nigel just smirked as Horatio's cell phone suddenly went off in his pocket. Wordlessly excusing himself, Horatio took a few steps away and pulled the phone out. His Caller ID showed a number he didn't recognise, so when he flipped it open, he said a short, formal, "This is Caine."
"Lieutenant, hello," greeted a prim female voice from the other end of the line. "This is Crystal Gables with Social Services; I'm calling about Lisette Chastain. Do you have a moment?"
Horatio faltered. "I -- yes, of course. Is something wrong?"
"Nothing life-threatening," she assured him. "It's just that she's being… difficult."
"Difficult how?"
"Difficult in that she's refusing to be placed with any prospective foster families," said Ms. Gables grimly. "She is absolutely refusing -- insisting that she wants to stay with you."
He fell silent as he processed the information: him? A foster parent? The idea, at first, seemed too absurd to be even considered a possibility. Then again, two weeks ago, so was the idea of being in love. And now that he thought about it…
"Could you, uh… could you hang on for a moment, please, Ms. Gables?"
"Of course, Lieutenant."
Horatio put the cell phone against his shoulder and hailed Nigel over, who exchanged a few final words with Jordan before heading over.
"Yeah?" he asked mildly, his hands buried in his jean pockets.
"Nigel, I'm on the phone with Social Services," said Horatio quietly. "A woman is calling about Lisette."
"Is she okay?" he asked, alarm suddenly making his voice tense. Horatio nodded.
"Yes, she's fine. But they're having trouble placing her with a foster family," Horatio told him. "She's saying that she wants to stay with us."
Nigel blinked at him, looking both bewildered and flattered. "She… oh. Really?"
"Apparently," Horatio said. "What do you think?"
After a few seconds of silence, Nigel said, "I don't know. Could I talk to her?"
Horatio put the phone back to his ear. "Ms. Gables, would it be okay if I spoke to her for a moment?"
"Err…" From the other end of the line, Horatio heard Ms. Gables shuffling through some papers on what was undoubtedly her desk. "I -- well -- I suppose that's fine. Hang on, let me go get her."
"Thank you," Horatio said. A moment later, he heard the background noise vanish, and he passed the cell phone back to Nigel. "On hold," he explained. "Stay here and talk to her, will you? I'm going to go in with S.W.A.T."
"Oh, sure, you get the fun jobs," jabbed Nigel playfully as he took the cell phone.
"I would much rather talk to an adorable, eleven-year-old girl, but one of us has to be with S.W.A.T. and you, unfortunately," he said, "are the only francophone."
"Excuses, excuses," he said dismissively as he put the phone to his ear.
"Fill me in when I get back," Horatio said.
"Will do. Good luck with that, by the way."
"Thank you," Horatio said thoughtfully. "Something tells me that I'll be needing it."
-- -- -- -- --
"I would much rather be talking to an adorable, eleven-year-old girl," Horatio said evenly, "but one of us needs to be with S.W.A.T. and you, unfortunately, are the only francophone."
Nigel put the cell phone against his ear. "Excuses, excuses," he said despite his grin.
"Fill me in when I get back," said Horatio.
"Will do," Nigel replied. "Good luck with that, by the way."
"Thank you. Something tells me that I'll be needing it."
And on that cryptic note, Horatio walked away as the S.W.A.T. mobilised at the end of the driveway. He watched detachedly until they were out of sight. A few moments later, he heard a soft clicking noise.
"Allô ?"
It was Lisette; her prepubescent soprano with a Quebecois slant was unmistakeable. Nigel smiled even though he knew she couldn't see it.
"Hey, sweetheart," said Nigel in French.
"Nigel, is that you?" she replied.
"It is me," he said. "How are you doing?"
"Oh, Nigel, it's terrible," she said desperately. "They keep trying to send me away with other families, but I don't want to go with them!"
"Okay, love, calm down," he said, his voice soothing. "Calm down, sweetie. Why don't you want to go with them? Aren't they nice people?"
"I don't care heads or tails if they're nice or not," Lisette whimpered. "I want to stay with you and Horatio. You are the only people I really feel safe with!"
Nigel was genuinely touched, and another smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Shifting his weight to his left foot, he said, "Well, honey, that's…" But he really couldn't think of the right adjective; he'd never had a way with words when it really mattered. Finally, he sighed, raked one hand through his hair and managed to say, "It's not just my decision, love. Horatio and I live together now; we both have to talk about this -- all three of us, actually."
"Please don't make me go back with them," she whispered.
He felt his heart break in his chest. "We'll think of something, dear, okay? I promise. You won't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"But they're telling me that I can only stay here until tomorrow," Lisette said. "They have to send me to an orphanage back in Quebec if I'm not taken by then."
"Then Horatio and I will come over this evening love," Nigel said. "We're on a scene right now, but once we're done, we'll come over and see what we can do; how does that sound?"
Lisette sighed and fell silent for a few seconds. "Okay," she said eventually. "But please hurry. This place is really scary."
Nigel opened his mouth to reply but before he could begin, a gunshot split the air. His eyes flew up and, his heart skipping a few beats, he scrambled around to the end of the driveway.
In accordance with S.W.A.T. protocol, the front door was wide open, showing nothing. "Oh, my God -- Horatio," he breathed switching back to English momentarily.
"Nigel? What was that noise?" asked Lisette, worried.
"I -- it's -- I don't know. Sweetie, I have to go now, but I'll call you back as soon as I can," he said, stumbling over his French.
"Is everything okay? Is Horatio safe?" The alarm was now making her voice tighten.
"I'll see you tonight," he said quickly before he flipped the phone shut. Once it was back in his pocket, he grabbed the gun from his hip and hurried toward the door.
-- -- -- -- --
Horatio heard Hopkins bellow, "Miami Dade Police!" That was his cue to follow the team into the house. With one hand hovering near his gun, he started up the long path that led to the front door. From inside, he heard the subtle thumping of boots on the marble foyer floor as he made it inside.
He drew his gun from its holster when he reached the base of the steps. Hopkins used the hand not on his standard-issue semi-automatic to make quick hand symbols at the rest of his time. They simultaneously split up in groups of three, moving swiftly in different directions.
"Miami Dade Police," Horatio repeated, his voice loud but echoless in the seemingly deserted house. With his gun held at the ready near his thigh, Horatio moved around Hopkins toward the kitchen.
He used his shoulder to push through the door and immediately lifted the gun, pointing it out as he scanned the room. He noticed at that moment a few telltale signs -- there were three glasses of what looked like gin abandoned on a table. The chairs were pushed out and the door to the den was ajar. Horatio was silent and still for a few moments as he considered a course of action:
None of the other S.W.A.T. were in his part of the house, and calling them would alert the suspects to his presence. He took in a deep, silent breath and headed toward the den.
One hand pushed open the door and quickly returned to his gun. Sure enough, Eleanor Lovett, Edward Mason and another tall, Hispanic man were crowded near the window. Eleanor was already halfway through it.
"Freeze!" he roared, causing them all to jerk around. The unknown man's eyes immediately landed on Horatio's badge.
But it wasn't him that Horatio was worried about, because Mason was the one who grabbed a revolver from his back pocket.
"Don't do this, Mason," Horatio said sharply. "Put the gun down."
"I won't let you take us," Mason growled.
"It's all over," Horatio said as he slowly moved forward, gun out. Though Mason had the revolver pointed straight between his eyes, Horatio didn't finch. "There's nothing you can do. Evidence is in; your fate is sealed, and if you run now, I am going to hunt you down for the rest of my life -- do you understand?"
"I understand perfectly, Caine," snapped Mason, "and I know how to take care of it, too." He cocked the gun.
"Put the gun down, Mason," he said more loudly. "Your rap sheet doesn't need any more felonies."
"I should kill you," he hissed.
"But you won't," Horatio replied calmly, continuing to inch closer. "You won't, because you're not a murderer. You know that and I know that, so just put the gun down--"
Crack!!
-- -- -- -- --
When Nigel made it into the foyer, he heard four more gunshots, and his skin crawled. He scrambled after the noise, cocking his own gun as he hurried for the den. From above him he heard S.W.A.T. thumping across the floor and down the steps.
He burst through the door to the den, and head only a moment to assess the situation:
Horatio was collapsed against the wall, holding his upper left arm. Blood was seeping between his fingers from under the palm over his wound. The window was open and Nigel saw a booted foot push through the second he looked.
With a split second to react, Nigel took in a breath and rand for the window with his gun ready to be fired.
"MDPD! Freeze!"
Three figures were stumbling across the lawn, only two of whom Nigel recognised. Two, however, was more than enough. He aimed and fired three times. Eleanor and the unknown man fell, but Mason only stumbled, stopping to help Eleanor.
When Nigel turned around, S.W.A.T. was just entering.
"Outside, the backyard," he said breathlessly. "I got two of them."
The nearest of the S.W.A.T. nodded and all of them dashed past him. Nigel shoved his gun back into its holster and stumbled back over to Horatio.
"Sharp shooter," Horatio rasped with a tired smile.
"Your arm…"
"It's fine; it's superficial--"
"It's bleeding too much," said Nigel tersely. "I think it hit a brachial artery."
Horatio lifted his chin but didn't deny it, which perhaps frightened Nigel more than his being wounded at all. He looked around the room desperately and spotted a small rectangle of dark green fabric hanging as decoration over the arm of a nearby chair. He leaned over and snatched it.
"Get me fire and rescue!" he cried as he folded the cloth in half lengthwise and slid it around Horatio's arm to tie it tight, fashioning a tourniquet.
"I'll be fine, Nigel," said Horatio as he caught his breath.
"You had damn well better be," he snapped, though he couldn't keep his voice from shaking. "I swear to God, Horatio, if anything happens, I will not forgive you."
"I'll be fine," he promised. "I'll be fine…"
-- -- -- -- --
"The tourniquet was quick thinking, Dr. Townsend," the EMT told Nigel twenty minutes later. "It saved him a lot of blood."
Horatio was sitting on the edge of the ambulance bed as a medic finished off tying a bandage around his arm. The wound hadn't been severe enough to merit a trip to the hospital, and they'd had more than enough supplies to treat it on-cite. They had both told him that there was nothing to worry about and that, after applying superglue to the small laceration on the artery, the wound would close on its own in two days, tops.
Nigel breathed out. Horatio could tell that he was beyond relieved. "So he's going to be okay?"
"Of course. I think anything short of a direct nuclear attack wouldn't leave so much as a scratch on Lieutenant Caine," said the EMT, making Horatio smirk. Nigel shook his head with a mirrored grin.
"I guess," Nigel said. "Thanks, mate."
"No problem, man," replied the technician.
"You're free to go, Lieutenant," said the other with a smile. Horatio returned it and stood up, pulling his sleeve back down over his arm as he ducked beneath the yellow crime scene tape and headed over to Nigel.
"Hey."
"Hey. All better?"
Horatio smiled. "Yes. Though I wouldn't be opposed to the 'kiss-it-and-make-it-better' treatment."
"Mmm… wait until tonight and you'll get more than a kiss," Nigel said in a sultry voice, his subtlety fleeting.
"That sounds promising," he said. "How was Lisette, by the way?"
"Very upset," replied Nigel, who put one hand on his waist. "She says that she doesn't want to go with any of the families that Social Services is placing her with -- that she wants to stay with us because we're the only ones with whom she feels safe."
Horatio breathed out and fell into momentary silence. He let his mind digest the information for a few seconds.
"Well… I ask again -- what do you think?"
"What do I think?"
"It's not going to be affecting only one of us," said Horatio reasonably.
"Well, I think that she is quite possibly the cutest little girl in a two-hundred mile radius," he began as he counted off on his fingers. "I think she's so sweet that every time I see her I feel like I need an insulin shot, and considering the similarities between her history and my own, I think it's safe to say that I feel an obligation to help her in any and every way I can."
Horatio faltered; he hadn't drawn that conclusion until Nigel had mentioned it. He had a point -- moreover, Horatio couldn't blame him for wanting to help her. Were it him, he'd feel the same way.
"It's hell, you know."
Horatio looked up, the question in his eyes.
"Rape," he explained softly. "It's hell. It's like -- like a constant ache, and sometimes you're so busy that you don't notice it, but it's always there. Like a shadow." Nigel swallowed and Horatio's face softened. He reached over and took his forearm reassuringly. "Having something so precious as your virginity taken from you, and before you're even old enough to know how valuable it is…" He trailed off, eyes falling to the side.
"Hey," Horatio said softly, using his free hand to gently pull Nigel's chin up so he could meet his eyes. "He's going to Death Row. He's going to pay for what he did to you and all those other kids, Nigel."
"I know," he whispered, "but I feel like it's not enough. I don't thinking anything -- prohibited by the Constitution or not -- could possibly equate to what he put me through -- what he put all those kids through. I just--"
Nigel cut himself off and went quiet. Horatio waited patiently as Nigel closed his eyes and gathered his wits.
"I promised Lisette that you and I would come see her at Social Services as soon as we could," he said finally. "If she doesn't have a foster family by tomorrow night, they have to send her back to Quebec -- an orphanage."
"Well, then, by all means," he said, "let's go."