Couples
Chapter 13
Rick drinks in Kate's scent and warmth as she settles into the curve of his arm. "Mmm, quite an evening, wasn't it?"
"Uh-huh. Your roast was great, and the tiramisu from Fratelli's was out of this world. But I don't think I've ever heard that much shop talk, even at an N.Y.P.D. party. Poor Mark and Holly. Other than the time they fronted for us at the music store, it wasn't exactly in their ballpark. And Holly was fading anyway. I'm not surprised they left early. Craig was really into the discussion because of his role in that movie, but I could see Martha working really hard to look interested."
"She probably would have been happier with a little wine to accompany the conversation," Rick considers, "but the party was for Alexis, and the kids are underage."
"And keeping it dry wasn't just better for the kids. I think it's easier for my father when there's no alcohol to tempt him," Kate adds. "the important thing is that Alexis enjoyed it. Talking about her passion cut through a lot of tension."
"Yes, it did," Rick agrees. "If she can keep talking forensics until her graduation tomorrow night, she'll be nicely loosened up for her speech. If she's hanging with Dana, that shouldn't be much of a problem. And if she's here, I can bring up a crime lab tidbit or two concerning my books. And speaking of crime lab tidbits, shouldn't you have the results back on the things Avallone left in storage?"
Kate snuggles against his shoulder. "I should. Montgomery said he was turning the screws a little. I'll probably see a report tomorrow morning."
"Which gives you all night to worry about it – as well as your sting of the friendly neighborhood biologic pusher. Perhaps we should do something to ease your tension."
Kate's fingertip draws an invisible design on the bare skin in the V of his T-shirt. "What did you have in mind?"
Rick hoists her to straddle his hips. "I thought you might like to take a ride."
"Perhaps if the jockey gets a little massage," Kate suggests, lifting her babydoll gown over her head and undoing the front clasp of her nursing bra.
Rick slips the straps from her shoulders and presses his lips to the cleft between her breasts. He cups a still perky globe in each palm and rotates his thumbs over now-darkened buds. "That would be my very great pleasure."
Under the arousing touch of Rick's hands, Kate begins to rub the center of her rising sensation against the firm heat attempting to poke free of his shorts. Encircling it with her fingers, she pulls it free. Rick bucks beneath her as she bends to taste. "Kate!"
The teasing of her tongue and the pressure of her lips readies her mount. He gasps as she takes him in, moving up and down like a carousel steed. The pace of his hands on her needy orbs quickens as their lips meet, hungry and hot. She rises and falls in an answering rhythm, drawing him further into her intimate depths. Her body's response begins as wavelets lapping at the shore, with the tide rising to a rock-pounding force. Thrown apart, they come together again, drained but replete.
Lily's early-morning summons comes too soon, but almost simultaneous to an alert from the C.S.U. night shift lab. "Avallone D.N.A. results available. Report following." Before Alexis's graduation that evening, Kate's going to have a very full day.
Rick's eyes also pop open at the demand emanating from the baby monitor. "I can go get her if you want a moment to wake up."
"Oh, I'm awake," Kate assures him, "and we both need a shower. I'll take care of her while you grab yours, and we can switch off."
"I'll start the coffee first," Rick decides. "And I'll make it quick. Alexis and Mother will probably both sleep in. With any luck, you and I can have the kitchen for a while before they descend. Omelets?"
Kate pecks his lips. "Sounds good."
At her desk in the bullpen, Kate studies the report from C.S.U. They found an intact follicle attached to a hair in the key box and another in the box of photographs. The D.N.A. was identical, and the phenotype matched the description of Avallone. Unfortunately, there was no exact match on C.O.D.I.S., but there was one to relatives, the closest being a first cousin.
Joseph Avallone is living in Ridgewood, New Jersey, near Paramus, about an hour's drive from Manhattan. The location is no farther away than the outer reaches of several other boroughs, but Kate won't have any authority there. She could call ahead and ask nicely, but if Joseph is in touch with Francis, he could refuse permission for an interview or take off. Kate decides her best strategy will be to drop in without notice.
Joseph Avallone rarely has visitors and even more rarely any who look like Detective Beckett. He's happy to invite her in for the eye-pleasing company, if nothing else. He rubs his fingers over the faint white stubble on his lower jaw. "Yes, I have a cousin, Francis Avallone. I haven't seen him in a couple of years. I admit that I can't say I tried. Francis has never been easy to get along with. He likes machines better than people. I think that's why he enjoyed working with them. My daughter was putting together a family tree a couple of years ago and asked me to do the thing with the little tube. I suppose that's how you found me."
"Have you heard from Francis at all, or do you know where he is?" Kate queries.
"Heard from him, no. But I know where he is, or rather my daughter does. She lives in Massachusetts and has a thing about keeping track of family. I can give her a call if you want," Joseph offers.
"I'd appreciate that very much, Mr. Avallone," Kate replies.
Joseph checks a pendulum clock on the mantel. "You picked the right time. She should be on her coffee break about now. I'll give her a ring." He slowly makes his way to a landline on the wall of his kitchen. Between that and his attitude toward Francis' love of machines, Kate guesses he isn't big into tech.
His soft spot for the daughter who cajoled him into giving a D.N.A. sample is evident in Joseph's voice. "Hi, Buttercup. There's a nice lady cop here who wants to find your cousin Francis. I don't know why, but she needs to talk to him. Uh-huh, I can hold on a minute." Joseph grabs a nearby pen and notepad from the counter while he's waiting. "Sure, I've got that. Thanks, Sweetheart. Any chance you can make it down for Memorial Day? Sorry to hear that. Maybe we can try for July 4th."
Joseph returns to Kate, holding out a slip of paper. "My daughter had an address for him, but the phone number isn't direct. It's one of those memory care places in the Bronx. She says you'll be lucky if you can get anything out of him."
Kate stares down at Joseph's surprisingly strong handwriting. "Saint Anthony's."
"The saint of miracles," Joseph notes. "Maybe you'll find one. Good luck, Detective."
"Thanks for your help, Mr. Avallone, and next time you talk to your daughter, thank her too."
"I'll do that," Joseph promises. He gazes after Kate as she rapidly strides back to her car. She was the only person except for the U.P.S., to come to his door in a while. Maybe that will change. July 4th isn't that far away. Not far at all.