A/N: What's this? A second update in a week? Things are really rolling now! Buckle up and enjoy this extra long installment, readers.
Neither Marshall nor Sugar noticed the man in the shadows waiting for a table at Mama Sofia's as they made their hurried exit from the eatery. The man waited a full thirty seconds before strolling casually out the door, dialing a number on his cell as he went. "Hey boss, it's me. I know you told me the job was done, but I had a hunch and stayed on it. I think you'll be glad I did."
"Why? What's happened?"
"The suspect met Marshall Mann for lunch at Mama Sofia's. I was too far away to hear their conversation but it was intense. The two of them left in a hurry just now heading for Marshall's car." The man waited while several cuss words came over the line. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to find me a car that is ready for the scrap heap, one without plates if possible. Call me back when you have it."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"No – and thank you for staying on the job. As usual, your instincts are right on the money."
"That's why you pay me the big bucks, boss."
Rietta paced the small confines of Marshall's living room while her assistant Chanel perched on the end of the sofa, steno pad open and covered with notes in shorthand code known only to her.
"Why didn't we know about this sooner?" Rietta demanded. "This is very important information that can be used in your defense, Marshall!"
Sugar shrank back from the attack and Marshall held up a hand. "Hey, don't blame Sugar – she's been subpoenaed as a witness for the prosecution, remember? She's taking a risk talking to us at all."
Rietta crossed her arms. "Why is she then?"
"Because I want to help! I don't think Marshall killed Kenny." Sugar's eyes blurred with tears.
Marshall laid a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for your faith in me."
"You're welcome."
Rietta rolled her eyes. "So how can we get the police commissioner on the stand? I take it you never saw him at Kenny's house?"
Sugar slowly shook her head. "No, I recognized the guy in the bar last night from TV and the papers. But I have seen the guy who's running for city council there a few times."
"Stephen Blackett?" Chanel spoke up, wanting confirmation for her notes.
Sugar nodded.
"I can't believe that worm knew such influential people-" Rietta snorted.
"Well, back in high school, they were just regular boys," Marshall reminded her. "Although it is rather telling of their characters that the three of them stayed friends all these years."
"Right. That's an angle we need to explore as well as see if we can find out whether that baby is Kenny's."
"Does that matter?" Sugar asked.
"I think so. I mean, an affair is one thing, but if you are the police commissioner and your wife gets pregnant by another man – I don't care if he is your best friend. I still call that an excellent motive for murder," Rietta said briskly. "Let's look into that. Come on Chanel, day's almost done."
"Wait, Rietta – I still need to tell you," Marshall cleared his throat nervously as all three women's eyes fell on him. "I remember."
The words hung in the air for several moments before Sugar gasped. "You mean, you remember that night? That's great, Marshall!" she threw her arms around him in a hug.
He met Rietta's concerned gaze over Sugar's shoulders. "Everything?" Rietta pressed.
Marshall shrugged out of Sugar's hold. "Enough to know that Kenny was alive when I left. I didn't go back inside after I talked to you outside, Sugar. I saw the missed calls from Mary on my cell, so I got in my truck and left."
Sugar frowned. "But I didn't hear you go – I was listening for your truck – and I didn't hear the engine until later – that's what the prosecution is basing time of death on-"
"I know, and I can't explain it either. But I did leave very shortly after I talked to you. Maybe there was another car with a diesel engine, and you were distracted by Sprinkles so you didn't hear me leave-"
"All right, that's enough speculation," Rietta broke in crisply. "You have your memory back and that's the important thing. Both of you: keep putting the pieces together about what happened that night. Chanel and I will dig into Kirk and Stephen. And Sugar – well, it's time for you to go to work, isn't it?"
"I – I don't know if I can go to work today. Everything that's happened-"
"You should go. Get your mind off things and do something normal. After all, you testify tomorrow," Marshall urged her.
"Will you be okay?"
He smiled. "Stan and Norah should be back from the zoo anytime now."
Rietta grabbed her briefcase. "That's my cue to leave – come on, Sugar. Chanel and I will give you a ride to the Hotel."
Marshall had only been alone for ten minutes when Stan came bursting through the door, clutching a crying Norah.
"What's wrong, Lady Bug? Didn't you like the zoo? Didn't you have fun with Paw Paw?" he crooned as Norah fell into his arms.
"Da da!"
"Oh, you're still missing Daddy? I'm sorry your Daddy Mark couldn't stay longer," he bounced her on his hip as her cries reduced to whimpers.
Stan shot his inspector a look of astonishment. "You can't be serious. She missed you, Marshall, not Mark. You're dada."
Marshall looked thunderstruck. "Don't be ridiculous, Stan. I'm Sha Sha, not Da da."
Norah reached up and swiped at Marshall's head, her palm colliding with the side of face. "Da da!"
Stan laughed. "I think Norah disagrees with you. You've been promoted to daddy, Marshall!"
He leaned his head against Norah's hair and inhaled her sweet fragrance. "Oh Lady Bug, your mama and I will explain it all to you when you're older, but for now, yes, da da is here."
"Thanks for coming, Detective. I wasn't sure you would."
Abigail studied Stan's face for a moment before she dropped down onto the park bench, her gaze sweeping the area. The park was full of families, couples, and dogs; even though it was early December, the weather was mild and sunny and everyone in the city was taking advantage of it.
"I wasn't going to – but I must admit that your phone call intrigued me."
"You know he didn't do this."
Abigail's eyes landed on Stan for a moment before darting away. "The problem is, I have a job to do, the same as you and Mary and Delia. My boss is watching me for any sign of weakness and I can't afford to show him any or it will cost me my job."
Stan nodded. "I understand, I do. And that's why I'm so appreciative that you took the risk to meet with me today."
She blew a breath out from between her lips. "So, on the phone you mentioned a possible connection in the APD – do you have a name?"
"How much do you know about your boss?"
Abigail started. "Captain Cox?
Stan shook his head. "Commissioner Vincent."
Her mouth fell open. "You've got to be kidding – Stan, he's not just MY boss! He's the head of the whole APD! You better have your damn facts straight before you even think about sniffing around that tree because your career is over-"
"Detective-" Stan's voice was low but no less authoritative. It cut through her tirade and Abigail fell silent though he felt her seething on the bench next to him. "I can't tell you what new evidence has come to light because, officially, you are on the opposing side. But I do know that personally and professionally, you are on the side of justice, and if Marshall didn't kill Kenny, that means someone else did. No one is above the law, Detective. So I'll ask you again, what do you know about your boss?"
Delia and Marshall held fingers to their lips in unison when Stan returned to Marshall's apartment after his meeting in the park.
"What are you two doing – practicing being mimes?" Stan chuckled as he pocketed his keys.
"Norah just fell asleep – she needs a few minutes before she's in a deep sleep," Marshall explained.
"You are such a dad," Stan teased as he headed straight for the coffee.
"What did Abigail say?"
Stan gulped half his mug and refilled it before joining his two inspectors at the table. "Where's Mary – I don't want to leave her out of the loop."
Marshall exchanged a look with Delia. "She's taking a personal day. Don't worry, I'll fill her in tonight."
"Come on, don't keep us in suspense," Delia urged.
"Well, Abigail gave me some basic background information on our commissioner. Kirk Vincent was born in Flagstaff, Arizona and his family moved to Albuquerque just before he started grade school – been here ever since. He had several odd jobs before joining the police academy and working his way up through the ranks and becoming police commissioner three years ago." Stan paused to gulp more coffee. "She knew that Kirk and Stephen are friends but she didn't mention that Kirk knew Kenny."
"What about Kirk's wife – any info on her?" Marshall interjected.
Delia turned to stare at him. "You're kidding, right? Julie Jennings, swim suit model, runner up Miss New Mexico – ring any bells?"
Marshall shook his head. "Kirk married a supermodel?"
"Well, not by national standards, but locally, yes. Julie is famous in our state – what rock have you been living under?"
Marshall shrugged. "I don't follow the model scene-"
Stan snorted. "And Julie is a brunette – Marshall prefers blondes."
Delia snickered as Marshall flushed.
"Back on topic," Marshall steered the conversation away from Mary. "Did Abigail say she was going to do some digging for us?"
"She agreed to find out what she could without committing 'career suicide'. But she thinks we're barking up the wrong tree."
"So she thinks Marshall did it?" Delia bristled.
"No, I don't think she does – but she reminded me that she has a job to do, and that big brother is watching her."
"I don't want her putting her job at risk for me," Marshall argued.
Stan nodded. "Agreed."
"Then what's our next move?" Delia countered as she looked to Marshall for direction.
"Sugar must be protected at all cost. Rietta gave her a ride to work and she's safe enough there – the Luxor Hotel is a public place. Delia, why don't you pick her up and give her a ride home, stay with her tonight, and bring her to court in the morning?"
"You got it, Chief- I mean –" she looked in confusion from Marshall to Stan. Both of them chuckled.
Stan reached out and squeezed Delia's hand. "It's okay, Delia. You got used to Marshall being the boss and it's bound to be confusing with both us here."
Delia frowned. "What's going to happen after – are you both going to stay, or-"
Marshall placed his hand on top of Stan's. "One step at a time, Dee. Let's get out of this mess first."
"It's me. I have the car. Where do you want it delivered?"
Kirk glanced up to make sure the door to his home office was shut before answering. "Park it on the roof of the parking garage of the Luxor Hotel. I've put your payment in our usual drop spot. Pick up your money, leave the keys, and get the hell out of Dodge."
"For how long?"
"For good."
She bided her time.
The entire day, she had spent time doing things that were so un-her. She had spent hours sitting on that rock in Sandia Crest reflecting on the pain, acknowledging the fact that she was a victim, and how to start picking up the pieces of her life.
She knew what she wanted. She knew who she wanted. And no one was going to stand in her way.
He had been right. Damn the press – this was their life, and they had wasted too much time apart. Now that their feelings were out in the open, she was done messing around.
When she saw the small group of college kids heading for his apartment building, she knew her waiting had paid off. She straightened the wig on her head and exited her car, running to catch up to the laughing, slightly drunk knot of millennials before they could enter the building.
Marshall gritted his teeth as the pulsating beat came up through the floor from the apartment below. It was at times like this that he missed his house with Abigail and his own bachelor house the most. It was too early for Winter Break, so it must be a regular college keg party that was going on below him – but the constant beat followed by the occasional crash and slamming doors grated his nerves and reminded him that he wasn't a spring chicken anymore.
Fortunately, the party was below and not above them. The constant, steady thrum along with the fan in Marshall's bedroom provided enough white noise that Norah was sound asleep in her pac n play, curled up under a light afghan that Marshall's mother had made for him when he was a baby. He didn't think he'd be lucky enough to get any sleep tonight.
A knock sounded on his door, followed by a gruff voice saying, "Pizza delivery!"
"You're on the wrong floor," Marshall muttered as he strode to the door, yanking it open. "Can't you tell the party's-" the words died on his lips as he saw not a pizza delivery guy but Mary standing on his doorstep. True, she had long, wavy red hair courtesy of a wig but it was definitely his girl.
"I'm not here for the party."
"Oh?" He smirked down at her. "What are you here for?"
Mary stepped into his apartment, into his personal space. "You."
She fisted his hoodie in her hands and yanked his face down to hers, capturing his mouth with hers. Marshall groaned as he reached behind her to shut the door and then slammed her up on it, Mary moaning into his hungry mouth in approval. When they broke apart for air, he panted against her cheek, "God, Mer. You-"
"Where's Norah?"
"Asleep."
Mary attacked his mouth again, her hands wandering down to the hem of his hoodie and started to lift it up. He stopped her, pulling away with an enormous effort. "Wait-"
She shook her head. "No – I want you."
He cupped her face. "I know – I can feel that." He watched as a beautiful blush spread across her skin. "And you know I want you too. But less than twenty-four hours ago you had a panic attack and clocked me. You know we need to take things slow. I'm not going anywhere."
Tears filled her eyes. "You don't know that."
"Mary, I need to talk to you. We have leads-"
She knocked his hands from her face. "What? What the hell did I miss-"
He took her hand. "Come sit down with me and we'll talk."
"Lose the hoodie first."
"I don't have anything else on."
She grinned. "I know."
He shook his head. "You'll distract me and this is important, Mer."
She rolled her eyes. "So go put on a wife beater."
When Marshall came back to the living room in the requested clothing, Mary had lost her wig as well as her long-sleeved shirt, leaving her in jeans and a lacy camisole. Marshall gulped and sat down hard on his sofa, waiting for Mary to join him, which she did, swinging her legs up and curling into his side.
"Tell me what I missed today."
He shook his head. "I want you to go first."
"Why?"
"Because I want to hear about your self-reflection – and I know that if I tell you about the leads, you'll get so focused on that, we won't get back to you."
She huffed into his chest. "I think your news is more important."
He lifted her face until their eyes locked. "Not to me."
She swallowed hard as she searched for how to begin. "I – I was finally able to admit to myself, out loud, that Kenny violated me."
He felt the shudder go through her body and held her tighter, waiting for her to continue.
"I was arguing over the semantics of it, you know? Just because he never finished the act, that meant he never raped me, I wasn't a victim. But that's not true. Kenny took something from me that night – but it wasn't so much that he violated me sexually, although that is important. The part that I have been struggling with the most is that he took my power, my control. I've always had control over situations and relationships with men – and for the first time that night, I didn't. I was completely at his mercy and that's someplace I never want to be again."
She was crying and Marshall reached behind him to get the tissues, allowing her the time to collect herself and calm down a bit. When she started speaking again, she shifted the subject from Kenny to the two of them.
"Our partnership has always been this blend of give and take – although I realize I did most of the taking and you most of the giving. No, don't try and deny it, Doofus, you know it's true. You let me wear the pants and be in control for ninety percent of the time, though you were perfectly capable of handling any and all situations that came our way. I want to tell you that things will be different – and in the future, I hope they will be. But for now, and in the immediate future, I'm afraid that I will still need to be taking control. I'm afraid it's a direct fallout from what happened to me-"
"No, Sunshine, it's who you are," Marshall interrupted her softly. "It's the woman I fell in love with. The simple fact that you love me back, and will hopefully ask me what I want from time to time – that's all I ask. It's more than I thought we would ever have."
She shifted her head on his shoulder so she could look him in the eye. "But how can you be content with that – with me? I'm such a selfish bitch, Marshall. I've taken so much from you and given you nothing in return for years-"
He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm no saint, Mer. I nearly married another woman when you were the one I really loved."
She arched an eyebrow. "Touché."
"But all of that – your engagement to Raph, mine to Abigail – those are in the past. They have shaped who we are and brought us to this moment where we are now, together: you, me, and Norah. I love you, Mary Shannon."
She reached up and cupped his face. "I don't deserve-"
He placed a finger against her lips. "Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Removing his finger, she surged up to meet his lips, moving over his mouth hungrily. "But I do love you," she breathed the words against his skin.
He groaned and lowered her to the sofa, his hands roaming over her body, his earlier words of needing to talk being forgotten by his primal need for her. She slowly rolled until she was the one on top, rocking her body into his, and in that moment, Marshall didn't even care that there was a wild keg party going on downstairs. All that mattered was this woman in his arms - she was the only thing that had ever mattered.
Sugar was exhausted, both mentally and physically.
Her brain hurt from running scenarios: all the possible reasons and explanations why she didn't hear Marshall's truck leaving that night. Was it because she'd been so focused on Sprinkles, keeping her on the leash, that she'd missed him leaving?
Sugar's back and feet hurt from running around all night. Instead of her usual quiet job in the main dining room of the Luxor, she'd had to fill in for Manny in the events room. Another fundraiser, another crowd of Albuquerque's elite, dressed to the nines, and ready to consume copious amounts of alcohol and food.
She jumped when a hand fell on her shoulder, and looked up to meet the eyes of her boss, the hotel manager, Jeremy. "Go home, Sugar. I'll close up this party."
She tried to hide her smile of relief. "You sure, boss? I still have a half hour left on my shift-"
"You look like crap. Go home and get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow – but don't be late for your shift."
Sugar held up her hand in a pledge. "I'll be here – unless I come down with whatever it is Manny's got-"
"The only thing Manny's got- never mind, it's not contagious. Just beat it and I'll see you tomorrow."
Delia had texted Sugar earlier in her shift, letting her know that she would give her a ride home. Now, as Sugar exited the hotel out a service door and made her way to the bus stop, she pulled out her phone to text Delia, letting her know that she was leaving work early and to meet her at home. She had just pressed the send button when she saw the bus approaching the stop.
"Shit!" she swore as she sprinted up the block toward the crosswalk, knowing that if she waited for the light, she would miss the bus. Looking both ways for traffic, she darted into the intersection.
"Look out!"
She heard someone scream and she turned her head in time to see the oncoming headlights, but Sugar never knew what hit her.
A/N: Oh snap! Is Sugar going to live? Will her hit and run driver be caught? Will Mary and Marshall get their happy ending? Stay tuned - and as always, reviews are LOVE!
