August 2000
Music: Miracle by Vertical Horizon
Darien pressed the disconnect button and closed his eyes for a long moment. He'd just stumbled his way through telling the bad news to 'Chele's answering machine at home. Damn, how could things fall apart so damn fast?
"Darien?"
Darien opened his eyes and turned to look at Harold Grabowski, his lawyer who, in all fairness, looked just as shocked at the verdict as Darien felt. "Not home," he muttered, then glanced at the caged clock hanging high on the wall and realized it was just after 2 PM, of course she wouldn't be home.
"Try her cell then. Its not like you're restricted to one phone call," Harry reminded him.
"Right," Darien mumbled, still feeling completely stunned. He was actually hoping the numb feeling would stick around for a while, because he knew that once it wore off reality would pound him into dust. He dialed 'Chele's cell phone, expecting to get her voicemail, and so was struck dumb when she answered after only two rings.
"Mac here," she said, sounding distracted. Darien's silence went on for long enough that she grumbled softly then growled, "Jess, what do you want this time? I'm busy."
That encouraged him to find his voice. "Not Jess," he got out, his throat suddenly tight with fear and unhappiness.
"Darien, are you all right?" The instant concern in her voice was unmistakable.
"'Chele, I...I'm in trouble." He swallowed hard, half expecting a sigh of dismay or an irritated squall so he was both shocked and relieved when she said,
"I'm on my way."
* * *
Darien paced the small room, nervousness eating at him and unable to sit for more than a few seconds at a time, not that the cold steel of either chairs or the table was very comfortable. He tried to ignore his reflection in the so-called mirror that he wandered past every few seconds. The day-glow orange jumpsuit that was his regular wear these days, not doing a whole lot for his currently pale complexion. He was beginning to wonder why the hell he'd been brought to this room that he'd now been stewing in for at least an hour. All he'd been told was that he had a visitor and to wait. Like he could do anything else.
He ran his hands through his hair and then rubbed the back of his neck as that feeling of complete and utter hopelessness settled firmly upon his soul. At least they had him as a guest of SDCJ instead of sending him over to RJD until his sentencing one short week from now. He froze in place as the real meaning of those words hit him again. A week and he'd probably be listening to his death sentence being pronounced in open court.
Darien sighed heavily his shoulders slumping in defeat as one shaky hand came up to rub his face, causing him to hiss in pain as he encountered the bruise along his cheek. "Crap," he muttered, dropping his hand back to his side in frustration.
His head snapped up at the sound of a key in the door's lock. It opened a second later to reveal the pissed off countenance of Michele.
"Careful, Miss, this one's bad news," the guard warned in an overly sweet tone and 'Chele turned her head to shoot a deadly glare over her shoulder at the guy. She moved fully into the room and stood still until the door had been shut.
"'Careful,' my ass. This from one of the jerks insisting they had to strip search me before I came in here," she growled in a low voice.
"Michele?" Darien had been expecting his lawyer, not her, not after two days had passed since he'd called her and she'd said she was on her way.
"Sorry, I took so..." She turned about, her words trailing off as she got a good look at him. "Shit, D, what happened to you?" She was at his side in an instant, one hand reaching up to brush gingerly over the lovely bruise taking up most of the right side of his face.
"My cell mates seemed to take offense to my having sodomized that old man." Darien failed to keep the anger and pain out of his voice, though after a second he chuckled ruefully. "Lovely double-standard considering what goes on inside."
'Chele cupped his cheek, her touch conveying her worry for him. "Crap. They didn't...."
Darien shook his head. "No. Just lots of fists and feet. I'm fine, really. They moved me to an isolation cell right after. Its boring, but far less painful."
Her eyes drifted closed for a long moment before she was able to again meet his. There was this amazing anger buried in their depths of those gray eyes. "Damn it, Dare." Her tone softened. "Sit. It feels like you haven't slept in days."
"That's 'cause I haven't," he acknowledged. He moved back until he was leaning against the table. "I was ... worried you weren't coming," he said softly, not bothering to hide his fright at his current situation even knowing there was an audience on the other side of the mirror.
"D, I am so sorry, but it took a few days to make the arrangements for this meeting. I had to call in some major favors to keep this private," 'Chele explained as she rubbed her hands over her arms as if she was chilled in the warm room. "I haven't even had a chance to sit down with Harry yet, what happened? Last time we spoke you were confident your alibi was more than solid enough."
"I was. Hell, it is. I was with Casey when this went down." Darien shifted, his ribs protesting the movement loudly and with much prejudice, making him groan aloud. 'Chele was there in an instant, her hands running over the damage and drawing a soft growl from between his teeth. "They're not broken," he assured her.
"Crap," she snarled. "If I find out the guards let this happen to you I'll be all over their asses."
Darien couldn't help it, he laughed, but it quickly morphed into a moan as his ribs reminded him he was not at 100 percent. Hell, he wasn't even at 50 percent today. "Damn, girl, that was not imagery that I needed in my mind," he admonished with a wince.
She stuck out her tongue at him. "You know what I meant." She took a minute to compose herself. "Darien, I need to know what happened that night if I'm going to help."
"I didn't do this. I swear it, 'Chele, I couldn't..." She silenced him with a gentle finger over his lips.
"I know, Darien." There was no doubt in her voice or in her eyes. "And neither does Harry; he wouldn't have taken the case otherwise, my asking him or not."
Darien nodded in agreement. Grabowski had been up-front about being lied to and Darien had made a point of telling him the truth from the start... just not all of it. "It was the time of death that got me. Casey could only say I'd been with her from 2AM on and the old coot died somewhere between 1 and 3. The prosecutor made sure to point that out during cross." Darien dropped his head to stare at the floor, not currently able to meet Michele's eyes. "'Sides when it came out I'd been lying to her all along about being a thief and stuff... well..." Darien shrugged.
'Chele shook her head and backed away to take up pacing the room, almost as if she knew that's what he wanted to be doing. "Never mind the fact you were across town from the scene at the time."
Darien felt his heart skip a beat at her words. "How could you know that?" he asked at a harsh whisper while he glanced nervously at the silvered glass as she passed before it.
"What's the date, D?" 'Chele paused to look at him with one eyebrow raised.
"Uh, August 1st? Why would...oh." Darien had forgotten that the 60 days had gone flying past while he'd been caught up in his arrest and trial.
"Darien, why didn't you tell Harry about it? It pretty much proves you were nowhere near the place at the time of the murder?" 'Chele had stopped at the far side of the room to watch him.
"'Chele," Darien squawked, hooking a thumb at the mirror. "You trying to cause even more problems for me?"
Michele set her hands on her hips. "There is no one listening." She raised one had to tap her temple and Darien caught her meaning instantly. "They can watch on the cameras to make sure your badass self don't hurt little ole me, but the sound is off. It's why this took so long to arrange." Her shoulders drooped for a moment. "I tried to get your bond reinstated, but Judge Beale refused. I'm going to be owing Iggy big time for this."
Darien knew Iggy was Judge Ignacious Hollister, father of Nicky Hollister an ADA and former ... boyfriend of 'Chele's. If she had gone to Hollister for help, then Darien was in shit so deep he might never see the light of day again. "Michele, you didn't need to do this."
She shrugged. "Hell, D, it was this or ... break you outta here by force. And I doubt..." She trailed off an amused smile crossing her features. "Okay, so I probably could bust you out," She pushed away from the wall and walked towards him. "but then we would have to run away and join the circus."
Darien laughed softly, in need of the release it provided regardless of the pain that shot through his sides. "Don't tempt me, kitten, things are looking grim from here."
"Grimmer than you know, D. The press is all over this and have you strapped down to that gurney already. Rumor has it when the jury comes back with the death penalty you'll be sent to San Quentin." She set a hand on in his and squeezed. "Why didn't you let Harry call me as a character witness? Hell, why didn't you tell him about the..."
Darien cut her off, trusting that she was telling the truth about the lack of listeners. "'Cause I won't cop to another... job, when it went off perfectly."
"Not even to get you a retrial?" 'Chele snapped right back. "I'll tell Harry. I can..."
"No, Damn it. It's mine. You got me?" he yelled, not about to do time when that heist went down so damn sweet, so damn perfect. "What did you do with it?"
"Safe, I promise you." She hadn't even flinched from his shouting. "All right, I won't mention it... unless you tell me to." Still holding his hand, she shifted to lean back against the table next to him. "The DNA and prints are yours. I looked over the results myself. If you weren't there," He shot her a glare. "Then we need to figure out who was." She released his hand and slid back until she was sitting cross-legged on the table. "The witnesses from the building seemed to be convinced they'd seen you there just days before."
Darien sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face. Crap, he was tired. "That's 'cause they did."
"Sit, before you fall, please?" she pleaded softly. "We have time. I want to hear everything."
"Why, 'Chele? What can you do that Harry and his investigators couldn't?" Darien questioned as he pulled out the chair and sank into it with a grunt of pain.
"I don't know... yet. I'm far better at tracking down genetic anomalies than forensic data, but I'll think of something." She rubbed her forehead, a sure sign she was working on a headache. "Were you running one of your cons?" He nodded. "Lemme guess, the security one. Older folks, expensive high-end retirement community, fits your profile."
Darien actually felt sheepish. "Damn glad you ain't a cop. I'd've been up on my third ages ago." The fact was he'd tried to make sure to mix up his cons over the years, but the security one was almost always dead easy and very lucrative for him.
'Chele chuckled. "Not a chance, it's taken me a lifetime to know you this well, your average cop wouldn't have a clue." She tapped a finger on the tabletop as she thought. "So, you were in the building and the guy's apartment?"
Darien nodded. "And a dozen others as well. I'd targeted three as potentials. His was top of the list."
"But you decided against it." It was a statement.
"Yeah, something better came up," Darien agreed, knowing she'd figure out what the bigger prize was.
She snorted. "Better? That's an understatement. Okay, then who did you tell about the place?"
He stared at her for a long moment before answering. "Why would you think I told anyone?"
"Its logical. You cased the place and then decided it wasn't worth your trouble. Whoever did pull the job not only knew your style, but had access to your DNA. For all that to have occurred you would have had to either told them or they'd been spying on you for some reason," Michele explained, her expression dead serious. When Darien didn't speak for several minutes 'Chele did. "Do you want my help?"
"Yeah," he responded, though still unsure exactly how she could do anything more than what his lawyer and his people already had.
"Then you need to tell me the truth. All of it. Once you've been sentenced it'll be a hell of a lot harder to get anyone to believe that you didn't do this." Her tone wasn't harsh, but Darien still felt like he'd been sucker-punched in the gut.
"Why are you doing this?" The frustration was evident in his tone. She'd been helping from the moment she'd found out he'd been arrested. Bailed him out, posted his bond after the arraignment, found him a real lawyer instead of an overworked public defender, hell, she'd even arranged for the sale of most of his possessions so he could help pay for his defense. All without a single question or hinted at doubt.
"Shouldn't I?" She shook her head, the curls that had inevitably pulled free waving about her face. "If roles were reversed, would you help me?"
"Of course," Darien replied without hesitation. "But..."
"But nothing," 'Chele interrupted. "Stop expecting me to hightail it off into the sunset. I have no plans to walk away and leave you. Ever. Maybe one day you'll finally realize this."
Her irritation at his continued disbelief that she wanted to be his friend was obvious even as it was counterpointed by the knowledge that it was simply how he viewed the world and his relationships. To his way of thinking it was inevitable that those he cared about would leave him in one way or another. "My head knows, but my heart..." He knew she'd recognize those words and her hiss of indrawn breath confirmed it. "I told three people," he stated softly. "We were just hanging out drinking and jobs or the lack thereof came up. I'd glommed onto... that other one so I figured why not offer up the easy target for one of them, with maybe a cut for myself for turning them onto it. Quick cash for me with little actual work."
Michele's eyes narrowed as she listened. "That's not too common is it? Handing out potentials like that?"
"Not really uncommon either. I've picked up a few jobs that others'd cased, but knew their skills didn't suit it. They get their cut and everyone goes away happy." Darien shifted back into the seat a bit, relaxing as he warmed to the topic.
"Names, D. I need to know who."
He knew that look, that tone of voice, 'Chele was completely focused now, and much like a dog with a bone, there would be little chance of getting her to knock her off track. "Ummm, Suni, Manny, and Looks... uhh, Kenny."
"Okay, so which of these do you think could have done this to you?" Michele asked. "Is Suni the one I remember, the tiny Asian? Limber as a pro contortionist?"
Darien nodded, he'd shared a romp or two with Suni when they'd paired up on a couple of heists, which meant she not only knew Darien's style, but also had access to his DNA. "Yeah, that's Suni. You have a hell of a memory, ya know that?"
'Chele grinned. "So I've been told."
"I doubt its Suni. She's known for getting into places via electrical conduits, air vents and the like. I swear that girl can squeeze into places underfed cats can't," Darien explained, then got up to begin pacing about the room. The movement seemed to stir up more knowledge about the small woman. "'Sides, she's scared of heights."
"Acrophobic?" 'Chele mused aloud. "Yeah, that would most definitely keep her from climbing 15 stories up to..." She trailed off, apparently not needing to recount what had been done to the owner of the place. "The fact that Suni is female kinda eliminates her as well."
"Not as an accomplice," Darien commented, and 'Chele nodded in agreement. "Looks... this ain't his style across the board. He's a professional pickpocket. Occasionally hires out to lift specific items, but generally works on his own. Likes to sneak into highbrow parties and let his fingers get sticky with jewelry, watches, wallets and the like. Makes a pretty good living that way."
"Looks?" 'Chele's brows knit together at the odd appellation for the man.
Darien paused his steps to give her a bit of a smile. "He's gotta be the most average guy I have ever met. He's skated his way out of more arrests simply because witnesses couldn't remember what he looked like or gave totally conflicting descriptions. 'Looks' is short for 'no one ever looks twice'."
"So he's not likely to have even played second string on this one?" she asked and Darien shook his head no. "That's leaves this Manny. Male I assume?"
"Yeah, we met at the gym, started spotting each other on the free weights. Found out we had a few things in common." Darien had started pacing again, thinking seriously about his friend Manny. "He's a techie -- likes his toys for pulling off jobs instead of using real tools." 'Chele raised a single eyebrow at that comment. "All right, so I have a few toys as well, but they're just an addition to my skills I don't rely on just them, understand?"
"Perfectly." She stretched, her back arching for several long seconds before she relaxed. "Could he have done this?"
Darien stopped and leaned back against the mirrored wall. "I don't know... Maybe. I... I consider him a friend, but..."
"Honor among thieves?" 'Chele suggested with sarcasm heavy upon the words.
"Only when convenient, Liz taught me that," he answered ruefully. "Manny knows my style, had access and, of those I told, is the most likely to have set me up to cover his own ass." Darien violently pushed himself away from the window. "Damn it."
Michele pushed herself off the table and went to him. "Don't start second guessing the past, it's over with. We need to save your future."
"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Just wish it wasn't looking quite so bleak." Darien muttered, the dark clouds taking their place over his head once again, and without a silver lining to be seen anywhere. "So now what?"
"Now, you keep it together while I do what I can to get proof that Manny was involved and not you." She set a hand on his arm. "I'll warn you now, you might not like the solution I find or what I have to do to fix this."
"'Chele, I'm looking at a lethal injection right now. Can it get worse?" Darien asked, his tone plaintive. "I just don't want you to get in trouble. You are far too important..."
'Chele cut him off. "You let me worry about myself, okay." When Darien frowned she added, "Besides, who would believe me hanging out with a bunch of thugs and lowlifes, right?"
That earned a smile, though it was more than slightly forced on his part. "'Chele..."
She shook her head vehemently. "No, D. I'm not gonna tell you my plans. Plausible deniability on your part is necessary. Trust me?"
"Hell, yes. Just be careful, okay?" It was a simple request and she nodded.
"Do you want me to pass a message onto Casey... or anyone? Celia maybe?" she offered.
"Damn, Celia. I can just imagine what she's thinking right about now." Darien pondered for a moment. "Tell her... tell her I'm okay and I'll call her as soon as I can. Casey... she isn't exactly speaking to me at the moment. She showed for the trial and all, but she's understandably pissed about the whole lying thing." Darien sighed deeply, wondering how he could possibly fix the relationship. Convince her he hadn't lied, not really, just told a heavily edited truth... Shit, he was even lying to himself about it now. "Casey and me gotta work things out... if we can."
"All right," 'Chele conceded.
"What? No 'I told you so'?" Darien cringed when he realized that he'd actually spoken aloud.
"Do you want one? Would it make you feel better? 'Cause I certainly won't." 'Chele's tone was oddly sympathetic instead of accusatory. "If she can't get past learning the truth, then it's her loss."
Darien just stared at 'Chele in confusion. He knew he deserved a well-placed 'I told you so' on the matter and yet she seemed to have no interest in handing it out. Even though she'd been the one who'd warned him to be up-front with Casey about who he really was and what he did for a living. It had been the only time Michele had ever mentioned it, in fact.
Taking one of her hands into his he shook his head, "'Chele..." He froze for an instant as she shocked him unexpectedly, her entire body going stiff in reaction. He'd heard about this, had it described to him by her, but had never seen it for himself. "You okay?"
"Don't let them see who you really are." she stated in a strangely flat tone that was so very unlike her usual smooth contralto. "They will never believe who you are so be what they expect. Trust will take time." She slumped then, nearly collapsing before she caught herself and straightened. "Shit, I hate that."
"Kitten? What the hell was that?" Darien asked in a hushed voice.
Michele snorted even as she gave his hand a squeeze. "I wish I knew. Did what I said make any sense?"
Darien thought about it. "Not really. Care to explain?"
"No, or rather I can't. Welcome to my world of weirdness. Luckily the only others who have been visited by my Cassandra trick are two of my brothers. It'd totally freak anyone else, but they already know I'm strange." 'Chele stepped back and looked up at him. "Just remember what I said, it might have value eventually." She scrubbed her face in her hands as if to clear her mind from cobwebs that had invaded it. "On second thought, just ignore whatever I said. Probably just my version of speaking in tongues again."
"'Chele, you need help." He could tell by the sudden dullness of her eyes that she had another of her headaches.
"I know, and I... I'll talk to Mikey about it soon. I have more important things to do first." Her stance just dared him to challenge her.
"Bullshit. I know for a fact I ain't going nowhere in the near future." Darien approached her and followed along when she tried to avoid him, he eventually backed her into a corner. "'Chele, you won't be able to help me if you're down for the count with a headache or out cold from the meds or... or worse." His hand came up to cup her cheek and caught her momentary urge to turn away and not allow him to touch her again. This time there was no surprise shock at the contact, just warm soft flesh against his callused palm. "Take care of yourself, a'ight?"
'Chele laughed softly. "Yes, you horrid man. I promise to take care of myself... and to get you out of this mess somehow."
The last was said without laughter, without the slightest trace of humor in her voice and he found himself once again fighting back tears in response to just how damn much she cared about him. "Don't make promises you won't be able to keep, kitten. It makes you cranky."
"I have every intention of keeping this one, Dare. The method may just seem more than a little mad." She leaned forward to rest her head against his chest, one shaky breath drawn in and released, and he closed his eyes and set his chin atop her head.
"It'll work out, right?" he whispered hoarsely.
"Yes," she assured him then straightened. "I just need a bit more information from you and I can get started."
Darien looked down at her, at the sureness and confidence in her posture. "What else do you need?"
"For starters, where does this Manny hang out?"
