Chapter Eleven
Sorry for the delay to those of you (if any) anxiously awaiting an update. I've been in a bit of lull with writing of late, and though this chapter has been finished for a while, I've struggled with the chapter immediately following, which is tied pretty closely to this one. On the plus side, I recently binged Lucifer, which you might enjoy if you like police procedurals centered around a charming narcissist.
-w-v-.-v-w-
It was late Wednesday by the time Juliet stood in the same room as Lassiter again. She'd been off Tuesday to make up for her weekend shift, and Lassiter had spent the morning at the courthouse while she continued to follow her own leads.
In their time apart, Juliet came to an understanding, at least with herself. No more dating talk. Lassiter obviously felt uncomfortable sharing intimate details about his relationships, and she didn't want this to cast a pall over their partnership. So, in order to alleviate the tension between them, she planned to call a truce.
She returned to the station after four, hoping to catch Lassiter at his desk. A certain sign that all was still not well with them: he hadn't called or even texted her since their argument the other day. They desperately needed to clear the air, and if that meant buying him a round of java – or whiskey – she was all for it.
Besides, she'd made incredible progress on the case and hoped that, combined with whatever information he'd gathered, they might put together the real story.
It was with this optimism that she entered the bullpen, bringing with her a stack of files to drop on her desk. She noticed a flash of movement in Lassiter's corner. Crouched behind his desk, he was creating some sort of metallic clatter. She came over to observe the camera equipment he'd stacked on his desk, puzzling over it for a moment, until Lassiter glanced up from rummaging in his lower desk drawer.
"O'Hara," he said neutrally in greeting. His attention immediately returned to the drawer, where she knew he stored his surveillance material.
Juliet tried to sound casual. "Whatcha doin' there, partner?"
Lassiter made a grunt of triumph as he wrestled the case to his telescoping lens from a tangle in the drawer. He looked up again, his face a picture of perfect innocence. "Just getting some photography paraphernalia together."
She bit back her first, impatient response. "I see that." She paused, waiting for further explanation, and when it didn't come, she asked, "What's it for?"
"Stakeout." He stood up, brushing invisible dust off his pants. The more guileless he tried to look, the more suspicious Juliet grew.
"You didn't tell me we had a stakeout tonight. Which case?" She shuffled through their open cases in her head, trying to land on a line of inquiry that might require surveillance, and came up blank.
Lassiter shrugged and turned away, avoiding her eyes. "It's not a case you're on, so you have nothing to worry about. You can head home early."
Before she realized it, Juliet had veered around the corner of the desk to his side. "What do you mean, it's not my case? Did Vick assign you something without me?"
He busied himself with the filing cabinet, but it was obvious that he was thumbing through folders without actually looking for anything. "You said you were sleep deprived this week. There's no reason for you to stay out late." Now he turned back to her, and the concern on his face looked genuine. "Get some rest, O'Hara."
For some reason, she would have preferred snappishness from him. "I'm fine now. You don't have to baby me."
At that, he got a little testy. "I'm not babying you. I'm just conserving staffing hours in the interest of preventing unnecessary budget expenditures."
She glared at him, hands on her hips. After a moment, it occurred to her that she had intended to resolve their disagreement, not exacerbate it. Especially now that he seemed so desperate to avoid her, she decided it was all the more imperative that she accompany him. Time for a different tack. "All right," she said with a sigh. "Maybe I should check with Vick to see if we can justify the backup, you know, for safety purposes." She turned and began a slow walk toward the chief's office, where she could see Vick on a conference call.
Juliet barely made it five steps before Lassiter snaked in front of her, blocking her path. "There's no need for that," he said, suddenly brusque. She knew evasive when she saw it, and she knew when he was pretending to give an idea careful thought. "Listen," he said, as if he'd just come to a conclusion. "Why don't you join me, and we'll figure out the authorization tomorrow?"
He was so close she had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. A flash of white amid the usual blue reminded her of a spooked horse. What was he hiding?
"Okay," she said softly. "All I want to do is help you, Carlton."
Lassiter stared down at her, and if he didn't look comforted by the thought, he had at least lost some of the tension.
"And no dating talk – I promise."
His eyes darted away, but he nodded. "Fine."
Once Lassiter finished gathering his equipment, while Juliet took care of a few messages, they exited to the parking lot. Rather than heading toward the impounded cars they usually used for stakeouts, however, Lassiter directed her to his personal vehicle.
"What's this?"
Lassiter looked at her over the roof of the car as he unlocked his door. "What's what?"
She'd never seen him try so hard to appear innocent for such an extended period of time. Nevertheless, she was committed to keeping their interaction conflict-free. For now, at least. "I just thought we'd get one of the old clunkers to use tonight."
He busied himself with removing his blazer and tie, settling them both neatly on the back seat, along with the cameras, and then unbuttoning his top shirt buttons and rolling up his sleeves. Juliet waited. Finally, he ducked into his seat, and once she opened the passenger side door, he said calmly, "I didn't requisition one."
"Ah, for the budget." Juliet tried to sound casual.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. The budget."
She remained quiet, waiting to see whether he would say more out of pure anxiety, or move on without further comment.
Lassiter fidgeted, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. After a weighty pause, he started the car and backed out of the space.
Other than getting an occasional ride home, Juliet had never spent much time in Lassiter's personal car. From the look of it, he didn't, either. Though it was an aging model – he probably hadn't been in financial shape to buy a new car since his separation – everything had an air of sterility, as if no one had imprinted their personality on it. Meanwhile, Juliet's Beetle had a University of Miami tassel dangling from the rear-view mirror, a sticker from the academy on her side window. Maybe this was a good stakeout vehicle, after all.
As Juliet's mind wandered over what felt missing around her, she thought about the snacks they kept in the Crown Vic. She'd brought nothing, other than case files and her purse, which possibly contained a granola bar. Her belly rumbled as if to chip in its own opinion.
"Carlton?" she asked, more timidly than she usually would. "Would you mind stopping to grab food? I skipped lunch and wasn't really prepared for an evening out."
He glanced ever-so-slightly in her direction. "Burgers okay?"
She laughed a little in relief. "I could murder a Whopper right about now."
A hint of a smile appeared on his face, and he turned at the next intersection.
They sat in the drive-through, still not speaking, but the silence between them felt less tense, more natural, like the many hours they rode together in tranquility.
At the final window, he grabbed the bag and immediately handed it over to her, followed by two coffees. She dipped in for a french fry. He'd ordered a large fry instead of two separate ones, as he always did. Even when she insisted she didn't want fries, she always stole a few of his, and this was his way of ensuring they were both satisfied. She smiled as she let the salt bloom on her tongue.
"Do you want one while they're still fresh?" She held the bag open for him.
At this, he perked up and reached over to take a few. She handed him a napkin for the grease once his hand was empty again. They munched in companionable silence for the rest of the drive, with little more than the crinkling of the paper bag and the occasional clicking of the turn signal filling the car. Despite the enticing aroma of burger, Juliet was content to fill herself up on potatoes until they parked.
Their destination turned out to be downtown, in the financial district. Not entirely outrageous, though Juliet found it a bit unusual for a drug bust. Lassiter positioned himself in the back corner of a parking lot for a tony-looking office building, facing the entrance. He turned off the car engine and unbuckled his seat belt, reaching behind him for his camera case.
"So, who are we looking for?" Juliet asked around another mouthful of fries.
Without providing additional explanation, Lassiter pulled a color photo from a file folder tucked in with his equipment. The man wore a suit and tie and smiled at the camera. It looked like a headshot from a website, not a mugshot.
"And what's he supposed to do?"
"Not sure yet. This might involve trailing him to a second location."
Juliet looked back towards the entrance. A few people in business attire trickled out of the building. It was still light outside, the workday winding down. "How long before he's supposed to show?"
He frowned. "Hard to say. Could be soon. Could be a couple of hours."
Usually, Lassiter would expound at great length about a case and all its intricacies, so his vague responses to her fairly basic questions struck Juliet as odd. He wasn't shutting her down, which she could count as a temporary victory, but neither was he letting her in on his thought process. She couldn't tell yet whether his reluctance to engage was related to their disagreement or to something else.
Rather than perseverate on the issue until he broke down, as would be her normal mode of operation, Juliet instead settled back into her seat and pulled out her burger. She took a bite and hummed in appreciation. Her eating habits had not been the healthiest of late, but she could always pick up an extra spin class next week.
Beside her, Lassiter ate his own burger while keeping his eyes glued to the target. As intensely as he approached his work, he didn't typically focus quite so hard on a simple stakeout. Juliet pretended to be enthralled with her meal while she watched him in her periphery.
"I don't know about you, but I've gathered some valuable information on our waitress case," she ventured after a few moments.
"Hmm?" he said, distracted. She looked at him directly: he stared at the entrance transfixed, as if he expected a parade to march through the doors.
"The assault case? I thought we could catch up while we're waiting for something to happen."
He snapped out of whatever trance he seemed to be in. "What? Oh. The case." He glanced over at her with surprise, as if just noticing that she was sitting there next to him. "The case?"
"Waitress in an alley?" she prompted.
Lassiter blinked. "Right." He looked back toward the entrance, already bored. "What have you got?"
She'd certainly seen him dismissive of her work before – less so lately than in her early months with him – but it wasn't often that he brushed her off entirely. Juliet bit back annoyance. "A name, for starters."
Intrigued, he looked back at her. "Really?"
She nodded and filled him in.
A slight smile came to his face. "Well, I have a suspect."
"Who?" Juliet was surprised, and a little miffed that he hadn't called her with such an update right away.
Lassiter shook his head slightly. "No name. Just a creep with a truck. And some security cam footage of that same truck driving down the street at 2:35 in the morning." He pulled his attention away from the building long enough to grin at her. He told her about the suspicious electrician on his return visit.
"Wait," Juliet said slowly. "Would you consider a handyman the same as an electrician?" She ducked down to unearth her notebook from her bag.
Lassiter deliberated. "I guess it depends on what he's handy with. I mean, I could see a handyman doing a little light carpentry, or maybe unclogging a toilet…"
"Yes!" Juliet found the page. "Anita's sister said the ex-husband worked as a handyman." She looked up at Lassiter. "This has got to be the guy, right?"
Lassiter looked back at her, eyes lighting up with the realization. "We might have a match." His smile got wider. "Nice work, O'Hara."
She preened at the praise. Rare as it was to begin with, his words felt all the more meaningful in the wake of their argument.
Before she could respond, Lassiter's attention shifted back to the entrance. "Hold that thought," he murmured, reaching for his camera.
Juliet followed his gaze, trying to tamp down her disappointment at the disruption. Yes, disruption – since she still had no idea what this case was about, it only served as a distraction from her own work with her partner.
She watched as a man whose face seemed to match that of the picture Lassiter had shown her – at least from all the way across the parking lot – walked out of the foyer of the building, attention on his phone. Next to her, Lassiter was snapping photos with an unusual degree of fervor. The target stopped at a sleek black luxury car parked in the spot nearest the entrance, climbed in, and started the engine.
Lassiter cursed under his breath and dumped the camera, heavy with its telescoping lens, unceremoniously into Juliet's lap. "Hold this," he muttered while keying the ignition.
"What – " Somehow, he had failed to notice that he dropped the camera directly into a glob of ketchup on her burger wrapper, splattering her shirt in the process. "Carlton, what the hell?"
He peeled out of the space with a screech of tires just as the black car turned out of the parking lot, oblivious to her indignation. Juliet scrambled to buckle her seat belt, sparing a glance his way. Lassiter had a grim set to his brow, and a slightly wild look in his eyes, of the sort that she noticed when he was particularly enraged by something Shawn Spencer had done.
Neither of them speaking, they followed their quarry for a few blocks, pausing several cars back when it stopped at a traffic light. Their suspect seemed to be unaware or unconcerned about the prospect of being followed; wherever he was headed, it was in as straight a line as was possible once they got beyond the grid of downtown streets.
"I've got you, you bastard," Lassiter muttered to himself. A red glow from the traffic light spilled on his face, giving his sneer a fiendish air.
"Carlton, what's going on?" She heard the tremor in her voice. In all the hours she'd spent with him, never had she felt so anxious about what he might do next. Lassiter seemed determined, chillingly steady, and yet simultaneously as if he had lost control in some fundamental way.
He didn't say anything. It was as if he'd forgotten she was in the car.
They reached a ritzy neighborhood, and Lassiter slowed down, apparently already aware of what would happen next: the car ahead turned into the long driveway of an enormous house. Juliet stared. It was almost the kind of place celebrities lived in on television: ten bedrooms, at least.
Lassiter stopped, but left the car in gear. He watched as the man parked and got out of the car. Without looking around, certainly not back at the detectives' car, he let himself in to the front door. Lassiter sighed, and slowly released his foot from the brake. They coasted along the street, and he didn't look over as they passed the house.
Juliet tried to engage him again, now that he seemed to return to himself. "Fancy car, fancy house. Is there anything surprising about that?"
Finally, he looked over at her, and mixed with the anger on his face was a deep sadness in his eyes. "That's where Victoria lives."
"What?" Juliet felt her heart racing, the adrenaline rush aftermath of their car chase combined with the uncertainty of what she'd just experienced. She noticed the sudden weight of the camera on her lap, where it had lain forgotten by them both, useless, during the pursuit.
In profile, she saw the wild look return to his eyes. "That was Dirk the Jerk."
"What?" Juliet was having trouble processing his words. "Who the hell is that?"
He shrugged, as if the answer were inconsequential. "He's a partner in the law firm we were just parked outside of."
"So, he's, what? Victoria's divorce attorney or something?"
Lassiter looked at her again, this time with confusion, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "I don't think so."
Juliet shook her head, staring out the window without really paying attention to where they were headed. She wasn't sure he knew, either. "Is this even legal?"
"What?" Lassiter sputtered in indignation. "There's no law against sitting in a car in an opportune spot to watch people, and if one of those people who walks by happens to be dating your wife, it's just a coincidence."
"Except for the pictures," she said, hold aloft the camera. "And the shadowing."
His jaw clenched. "This guy is shady, I know it. I just need to catch him at it."
She rolled her eyes, turning to look out the passenger side window, if only to see something besides her partner's disappointing face. "What am I even doing here?" she said to herself, resigned.
"Well, I didn't ask you to come!"
"If I'd known you were stalking some guy – a lawyer, no less – I wouldn't have!" Juliet turned back to him, angrier now. "Do you do this a lot?"
"What?" he said tightly.
"Follow people around when they're minding their own business."
"My wife is my business."
"Not if you're separated." She let her head fall back against the head rest, frustrated. For so long, ever since she'd known him, she'd seen the absurd lengths he would go to for his wife's sake. Early on, she knew so little and he kept every personal detail bottled up tight. But she was a trained detective, and it quickly became obvious when Lassiter's mood shifted after a tense phone call. When he was overtaken by melancholy in remembrance of some meaningful date or occasion. She didn't often call him out on it, or draw attention, but she noticed.
"What were you planning to do, anyway?" Juliet continued. "Beat him up? Tell him to stay away from your woman like some troglodyte?"
"I don't know." He sounded sullen, and Juliet wondered whether he himself knew what he had wanted from the man. She knew Lassiter as a careful thinker, methodical, and yet here he was chasing his own jealousy without so much as a game plan.
Her tone gentled, and she asked softly, "Why are you still so angry all of the time?"
His face turned incrementally in her direction, but he kept his gaze downward.
If he had an answer, it was cut off by the chime of Juliet's phone. She let it ring a couple of times, waiting for something from Lassiter, a reaction, a response, but he turned back to the road. Finally, she leaned forward to grab the phone from her purse and answered.
After a moment, she hung up and looked at Lassiter. "Anita Torres just regained consciousness."