Chapter Seven: Amber Takes the Stand

Amber looked down at the man settled against the pale colors of the hospital linens. His expression was clear, bearing the complete innocence that men's faces seemed to take on in sleep. What was the phrase? Dead to the world. Yes, that was it. Her grandmother used to say that. Steve Sloan was dead to the world. Out cold. Sleeping like the proverbial (albeit drugged) baby.

The reason for the drugs was another matter entirely. Beyond the innocence of expression, the bruising stood in silent testament. She winced slightly, imagining his pain. The entire ordeal must have been very painful indeed. Perhaps as much as reading the interview in the Sensation had been for her. She had wanted him to feel just a little of that pain. And then, of course, there was the matter of the keys. Wonderful things all night hardware stores with their key copying machines.

She continued to stand there, watching, and remembering the way that things were in the beginning. They had been so close. But now that was all over. There was no turning back. When though, she wondered, had things gotten so off track? It had been a simple plan. Bettinger and Paul had deserved what they got. It was a simple case of justice served. In Steve, she'd thought she'd found a man who understood that . . .

The travelling carnival had been set up off the road in an old shopping center. The huge spinning Ferris wheel had caught her attention, and she had reminisced about not having ridden one in years. Steve had insisted that they were dangerous and that she'd never drag him on that thing. Fifteen minutes of cajoling didn't change his mind. She'd ended up climbing into the huge seat alone, laughing all the way as the wheel spun into the darkness of the evening.

It reminded her of her childhood and going to small carnivals such as this with her family. She loved it. But the ride was over all too soon. She wasn't ready to get off.

"Again!" She yelled down to Steve who stood at the attendant's side. He laughed at her and handed the man more money. The attendant grinned and allowed the ride to continue. There was a shout of approval from the other riders.

It wasn't until the fourth consecutive ride when the attendant shrugged and began to slow the big wheel that Amber realized that Steve was no longer standing at the bottom. As she waited her turn to disembark, she searched the small carnival from her high vantage point. She spotted him near one of the concession stands a few yards away.

Feeling exhilarated and a little dizzy she met Steve at the little table set up off to one side of the rides. He'd set the food up on the table.

"That was wonderful!" She exclaimed as she plopped down across from him. "I haven't done that in years."

"Neither have I," Steve said dryly. "And the last time I did, it wasn't pretty."

"Really? What happened?" She sensed there was a very good, and probably very embarrassing story behind that statement. She wasn't sure that Steve would share it with her. But she could certainly tease him about it until she found out for sure.

"Oh no. No way," Steve objected with a laugh. "May I have your arm, please?"

Amber blinked at the rapid change in conversation. "My arm, sir? Is that what it is going to cost me to get the answer out of you?"

"Give me your arm and find out."

She extended her arm across the table immediately, anxious to see what he was up to.

Steve grinned and reached into his pocket and retrieved a thin gold chain. He fumbled delicately with the tiny clasp, his brow furrowed in concentration, and placed it around her wrist. "It probably isn't worth very much, but the proprietor swears it's 14 karat. Said she would give me a discount for the beautiful lady laughing her head off on the Ferris wheel."

"Oh Steve, it's beautiful." Amber held her wrist up to the meager light reflecting from the multi-colored bulbs that were strung up in trees, poles or anything available. The gold links and charms twinkled, feeling warm against her skin.

"It's just a little something." Steve shrugged a bit bashfully. "Just think of it as something to remember me while you're working your new job."

"Thank you." She rewarded him with a smile that promised more later. "I won't take it off."

Steve chuckled. "You don't have to go that far. It's just a little something."

Amber just smiled in response. "Did your dad tell you we ran into each other this morning?"

"Actually, I haven't really had much of a chance to speak with him. He was called in today, and I got so wrapped up in closing out the McClellan case that we haven't had much of a chance to talk."

"Sounds like your case went well?" Amber probed. She'd noticed the triumphant look as he'd spoken of it.

"Yeah. We'd been after this guy forever. But he went around acting like he was above the law. We finally nailed him."

Amber watched him amazed. He loved his work. He loved justice just as much as she did. "It's a good feeling, huh?"

"A very good feeling," Steve agreed.

"The bad guys are out there doing bad deeds, thinking that they've gotten away with something. But then wham! Out of the blue. It's justice served!"

Steve laughed. "I never quite thought of it that way. But I guess you're right. For McClellan, it was out of the blue. He didn't expect to be taken down."

"So you got him." Amber lifted her paper cup of coke. "To justice served," she toasted.

"To justice." Steve followed suit.

A quick inhalation of breath dragged Amber back to the present. She looked up to find a very stunned Mark Sloan staring across the room at her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "I want you to leave. Now."

His voice was not at all its usual warm timbre. But that was no surprise. She knew how he felt about Steve. He could only see her as a threat to his son. Which was too bad really, because this thing between she and Steve was personal. As much as she liked Mark, she really wished he would understand that.

"Are you worried that I've come here to finish the job those goons started?" she asked quietly as she reached a hand toward several strands of hair that had fallen across Steve's brow. Very gently, she pushed them back, allowing her fingers to trail across warm skin.

"Stay away from him," Mark commanded, moving farther into the room. He quickly lowered the items that he was carrying onto a nearby chair and made for the phone. "I'm calling security. I want you out of this room, and I don't want you to come back."

"I didn't come here to hurt him, Mark." Amber replied. "I came to see for myself that he was okay."

"No," Mark watched her as he waited for his call to connect. "You've come to inspect your handiwork." Someone must have picked up on the other end then, because Mark began speaking into the receiver.

Amber turned her attention back toward Steve, who was beginning to stir. She placed a deceptively gentle hand on the side of his face and leaned over him. "This isn't justice served, lover. Not yet," she whispered as Steve focused hazily on her before his eyes went wide with shock. He drew in a sharp breath and his entire body jerked beneath her. His face went deathly pale.

"Steve!" Mark exclaimed, running around the bed, roughly shouldering her out of the way. He barely spared her a glance as he spoke in her direction. "You. Stay back!"

Amber obeyed, backing away just as the room doors flew open.

"Get her out of here," Mark ordered, then directed that she be escorted off the floor and that the police department be contacted.

-- --

After Steve wasn't sure how long, things settled back down. The shock of waking to find Amber standing over him, whispering threats, had caused him to act instinctively. Acting instinctively had hurt like blazes and affected his breathing. But now the pain had subsided back to a general dull ache, and his breathing was approaching normal. He looked over at his father and offered a tired smile.

At some point Jesse must have arrived as he was standing over the bed looking just as worried as his dad. "How are you feeling?" Jesse asked.

"Like I've just been run over by a truck that Amber was driving."

"I'm sorry about that, Steve," Mark spoke up. "If the LAPD won't place someone on your door, then I'll just have to put one of the security guards there. This is not going to happen again."

"It wasn't your fault, Dad." Steve tried to reassure him. "She's not the most normal person in the book."

"Yeah, maybe. I heard her whisper something to you, right after you woke up. Do you remember what it was?"

Steve remembered. But he wasn't sure he wanted to tell his father. "She said that this wasn't justice served. Not yet." He tried to lessen the blow. "But I know what she's up to, Dad. And I'm going to be careful. I'll even look into getting a restraining order."

"That's a good idea," Mark murmured, his blue eyes wearing a vaguely shell-shocked expression, before turning and heading toward the door. "I'm going to go arrange for that guard. Stay with him until the guard shows up, would you Jess?"

Steve looked up at Jesse. He would have sighed if he had the energy.

"He's just worried about you, Steve."

"I know, Jess," he said tiredly. "And he has every right to be. The law doesn't have a very good record with stopping her. So far everyone that Amber has tried to kill is dead and buried."

"For the next couple of days the best you can do is get better. And that is going to involve rest."

"Yeah." Steve felt exhaustion stealing over him. He vaguely heard Jesse welcoming the guard. Then just before he drifted over the edge into sleep a memory rose to the surface of his mind. . .

"Dad, I'm really not sure what we're going to find," Steve said, as he and Mark walked into the section of the LAPD auto lockup where the Mercedes that had belonged to Eliot Paul was stored. Doctors Paul and Bettinger had been found dead in the vehicle two days prior. The case had been elevated to murder when Amanda discovered that both men had unusually high levels of warfarin sodium in their systems.

"Well, something Lily Paul said stuck with me," Mark responded. "She said that Eliot called her before he and Charlie left, told her that the car had been vandalized. Maybe that vandalism had something to do with whoever committed the murder."

"But Dad, the car has been gone over. There's nothing. No vandalism of any kind." Steve insisted as he led his father along the rows toward where the car was parked.

"Did they check for fibers?" Mark asked.

"What kind of fibers?" Steve asked exasperated.

"Long red hairs," was Mark's sheepish reply.

"Are we back to Amber again, Dad?"

"Well, Steve it's just a little curious. She had a couple of empty bottles of Coumadin in that picnic basket. Did you know that the active ingredient in Coumadin is warfarin sodium? Her mother was obviously a cardiac patient. Eliot and Charlie specialized in cardio-thoracic medicine. It could just be a coincidence --"

"But I should look into it," Steve cut him off. "I am looking into it. But I really don't think she's involved."

"That's all I ask, son." Mark said, appeased.

"Here it is," Steve gestured toward the black Mercedes that was crumpled on one side as they reached spot 727-A.

"Lt. Steve Sloan?" A technician appeared from around the side of a vehicle in a neighboring slot.

"Yes," Steve greeted the tech. "This is my father, Dr. Mark Sloan. He. . . we wanted to take another look at this vehicle."

"It's right here," the tech said, gesturing with his tool belt. "I went over it myself. Used this." He displayed a rectangular device that looked like a cross between a flashlight and a cassette player with a long purple cylinder.

"Ah," Mark nodded. "An ultraviolet light. And you didn't find anything?"

"Sorry Doc."

"Mind if I take a look?" Mark asked, reaching for the light and turning toward the car. He'd already slipped gloves onto his hands.

"Sure, why not?" The technician said shooting Steve a look. Steve shrugged an apology and leaned into the car from the opposite side.

Mark fumbled with the switch on the light for several seconds before it came on. He chuckled and apologized under his breath as it was upside down. He quickly flipped it over. As he did so, Steve caught something out of the corner of his eye.

"Wait a minute. Dad, let me see that." Steve felt a touch of dread entering his heart. He'd only caught a portion of something, but he was fairly certain that he knew what it was. It was too familiar and too recent for it to not have struck a chord with him.

"What is it?" Mark asked, obviously catching the change in his tone.

Steve shone the black light toward the uppermost edge of the windshield. He felt himself go completely cold inside. "I think I found our vandalism."

"Justice Served." Mark read the faint red fluorescent letters which had appeared with the aid of the special lighting. "That mean anything to you?"

"I'm afraid it does."