Accusations
It had taken a few hours to convince Alex that this was for real, but eventually Fin and I packed it into our squadcar to pick this bastard up. "Three marriages and you still haven't figured it out?" he asked me.
"You seem to have all the answers: illuminate me," I retorted.
He just shook his head and started the car up. "Maybe you just can't mess with destiny."
"You a fatalist now, Fin?" I pushed. This conversation was already grating on me.
"I'm just sayin', maybe it's never gonna go the way you want it to. I don't know what's so special about this girl, but let's just catch the son of a bitch who did this and move on. I thought you gave up on relationships anyway."
Something in me just wouldn't shut up like I wanted to: perhaps Fin was the last good relationship in my life and I was loath to shut it out quite yet. I said: "This is different."
"So you just gonna keep beatin' yo' head against a brick wall?" he said with a sigh. "Be my guest." He was quiet for rest of the ride. What was I supposed to do - admit that I'd let Elliott's idiotic commentary get to me, and that in a momentary lapse of judgment I'd let a wonderful relationship slip through my fingers? Tell Fin that though I had once renounced all romantic attachments, Cara had rekindled some spark of life within me and somehow reminded me of that which I'd been searching for all my life? That I loved her in the real way that had heretofore eluded me?
I couldn't admit that to her, much less to him.
When we arrived to arrest Brian MacInis, we could hear a woman yelling from down in the vestibule. "Shawn," I said to my partner. I passed up the warrant in my pocket and instead drew my weapon and started up the stairs.
"You son of a bitch!" Shawn screamed. Fin and I were standing outside the door of apartment 2B. He got out his cell phone and was calling for backup, but just as dispatch picked up there was a gunshot from inside. I stood aside and let him break the door in.
There was no one in the living room, no one in the kitchen. We made our way slowly through the apartment and into the bedroom: Brian was lying on the floor beside the bed, blood oozing out of his shoulder and onto the carpet, staining the bedclothes. He was shirtless, but Shawn was still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt she'd had on that morning. The gun was still pointed at him: she looked insane.
"I told him," she said, and I realized belatedly that she was addressing Fin and me. "That if he wanted her, he'd have to fuck her on his own time."
"Drop the gun!" Fin yelled, for I could not. I wanted her to shoot him: I wanted to kill him myself. The detective in me was battling the man.
"No!" she replied, without taking her eyes off of Brian. "Not until he tells you what he did. Tell them. Tell them!"
Panic stricken, Brian looked at us and back at her, unsure of what the right course of action was. After a tense moment - in which I was almost sure Shawn was going to kill him - he opened his mouth and began to talk. "I wanted to have a threesome with her, but Shawn told me to go to hell so I let it go. But when you broke it off, she was so . depressed, I thought it would be good for her." He was speaking directly to me and no one else. This was disgusting: was I really about to hear Cara's rapist recite the details of the crime? He glanced at Shawn and then continued. "Matt called me and I took Shawn's keys and I let myself into the apartment. I knew she liked it rough."
Who would have told him that? She must have told Shawn once. This was humiliating.
"So I tied her down. Once I started doing her she stopped screaming. I thought she wanted me to do it. I had no idea she'd go to you guys," he finished. He looked at Shawn as if for confirmation that it was good enough.
Slowly, she lowered her weapon and dropped it to the floor. She was weeping tears of pain and relief. "He used me. You used me, you bastard! You used me to get to my best friend."
There was nothing else to do but the inevitable. I approached her cautiously and she practically collapsed in my arms. I wondered if she trusted me in particular. "Shawn Hiller, you are under arrest for assault," I said, and began to Mirandize her, however reluctantly. Fin wrenched Brian off the floor, his feet squishing in the blood-soaked carpet.
She continued as I read her her rights. "He said he'd shoot me if I told you what he did, but I already went to the police." Shawn lunged at him and I restrained her as best I could. In the corner of my eye I saw Brian cringe.
"Brian MacInis, I have a warrant for your arrest," Fin began, drawing his cuffs. "You are under arrest for rape in the first degree, assault in the first degree, unlawful entry, unlawful imprisonment, and attempted manslaughter."
By the time we had them properly Mirandized and cuffed, our backup had arrived and we let them bundle our suspects into separate cars. I wandered around the apartment, however, sure I was missing something.
"Lose something?" Fin asked me.
"When he raped Cara he'd bagged his dream girl," I said, trying to force myself to think of her as just another victim. "What's name of your first honest-to-God crush?"
"Myra Dickson in eight grade," he answered quickly. He was still following me, picking our way through the bedroom around the blood splatters and CSU workers.
"You take anything to remember her by? Make some adolescent shrine of your desk or locker?"
"I took a pencil she dropped in math class. Still had her teeth marks in it."
"Exactly. Like I said, this was too important an event not to take a souvenir." I stopped and pointed at his bedside table, where there was a picture frame. The glass was shattered so you could no longer see one half of the photo, but the good side was a picture of Cara at New Year's party in Time Square. Her hair was frizzed and her eye makeup creased, but I had always loved that snapshot for its honesty and spontaneity.
"You sure that's hers?"
I nodded. "I gave her the Goddamn frame. She kept it next to her bed. The other half is yours truly after one too many tequila and limes. Bag it," I said to the nearest member of CSU.
Fin smiled. "Smoking gun."
It had taken a few hours to convince Alex that this was for real, but eventually Fin and I packed it into our squadcar to pick this bastard up. "Three marriages and you still haven't figured it out?" he asked me.
"You seem to have all the answers: illuminate me," I retorted.
He just shook his head and started the car up. "Maybe you just can't mess with destiny."
"You a fatalist now, Fin?" I pushed. This conversation was already grating on me.
"I'm just sayin', maybe it's never gonna go the way you want it to. I don't know what's so special about this girl, but let's just catch the son of a bitch who did this and move on. I thought you gave up on relationships anyway."
Something in me just wouldn't shut up like I wanted to: perhaps Fin was the last good relationship in my life and I was loath to shut it out quite yet. I said: "This is different."
"So you just gonna keep beatin' yo' head against a brick wall?" he said with a sigh. "Be my guest." He was quiet for rest of the ride. What was I supposed to do - admit that I'd let Elliott's idiotic commentary get to me, and that in a momentary lapse of judgment I'd let a wonderful relationship slip through my fingers? Tell Fin that though I had once renounced all romantic attachments, Cara had rekindled some spark of life within me and somehow reminded me of that which I'd been searching for all my life? That I loved her in the real way that had heretofore eluded me?
I couldn't admit that to her, much less to him.
When we arrived to arrest Brian MacInis, we could hear a woman yelling from down in the vestibule. "Shawn," I said to my partner. I passed up the warrant in my pocket and instead drew my weapon and started up the stairs.
"You son of a bitch!" Shawn screamed. Fin and I were standing outside the door of apartment 2B. He got out his cell phone and was calling for backup, but just as dispatch picked up there was a gunshot from inside. I stood aside and let him break the door in.
There was no one in the living room, no one in the kitchen. We made our way slowly through the apartment and into the bedroom: Brian was lying on the floor beside the bed, blood oozing out of his shoulder and onto the carpet, staining the bedclothes. He was shirtless, but Shawn was still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt she'd had on that morning. The gun was still pointed at him: she looked insane.
"I told him," she said, and I realized belatedly that she was addressing Fin and me. "That if he wanted her, he'd have to fuck her on his own time."
"Drop the gun!" Fin yelled, for I could not. I wanted her to shoot him: I wanted to kill him myself. The detective in me was battling the man.
"No!" she replied, without taking her eyes off of Brian. "Not until he tells you what he did. Tell them. Tell them!"
Panic stricken, Brian looked at us and back at her, unsure of what the right course of action was. After a tense moment - in which I was almost sure Shawn was going to kill him - he opened his mouth and began to talk. "I wanted to have a threesome with her, but Shawn told me to go to hell so I let it go. But when you broke it off, she was so . depressed, I thought it would be good for her." He was speaking directly to me and no one else. This was disgusting: was I really about to hear Cara's rapist recite the details of the crime? He glanced at Shawn and then continued. "Matt called me and I took Shawn's keys and I let myself into the apartment. I knew she liked it rough."
Who would have told him that? She must have told Shawn once. This was humiliating.
"So I tied her down. Once I started doing her she stopped screaming. I thought she wanted me to do it. I had no idea she'd go to you guys," he finished. He looked at Shawn as if for confirmation that it was good enough.
Slowly, she lowered her weapon and dropped it to the floor. She was weeping tears of pain and relief. "He used me. You used me, you bastard! You used me to get to my best friend."
There was nothing else to do but the inevitable. I approached her cautiously and she practically collapsed in my arms. I wondered if she trusted me in particular. "Shawn Hiller, you are under arrest for assault," I said, and began to Mirandize her, however reluctantly. Fin wrenched Brian off the floor, his feet squishing in the blood-soaked carpet.
She continued as I read her her rights. "He said he'd shoot me if I told you what he did, but I already went to the police." Shawn lunged at him and I restrained her as best I could. In the corner of my eye I saw Brian cringe.
"Brian MacInis, I have a warrant for your arrest," Fin began, drawing his cuffs. "You are under arrest for rape in the first degree, assault in the first degree, unlawful entry, unlawful imprisonment, and attempted manslaughter."
By the time we had them properly Mirandized and cuffed, our backup had arrived and we let them bundle our suspects into separate cars. I wandered around the apartment, however, sure I was missing something.
"Lose something?" Fin asked me.
"When he raped Cara he'd bagged his dream girl," I said, trying to force myself to think of her as just another victim. "What's name of your first honest-to-God crush?"
"Myra Dickson in eight grade," he answered quickly. He was still following me, picking our way through the bedroom around the blood splatters and CSU workers.
"You take anything to remember her by? Make some adolescent shrine of your desk or locker?"
"I took a pencil she dropped in math class. Still had her teeth marks in it."
"Exactly. Like I said, this was too important an event not to take a souvenir." I stopped and pointed at his bedside table, where there was a picture frame. The glass was shattered so you could no longer see one half of the photo, but the good side was a picture of Cara at New Year's party in Time Square. Her hair was frizzed and her eye makeup creased, but I had always loved that snapshot for its honesty and spontaneity.
"You sure that's hers?"
I nodded. "I gave her the Goddamn frame. She kept it next to her bed. The other half is yours truly after one too many tequila and limes. Bag it," I said to the nearest member of CSU.
Fin smiled. "Smoking gun."