The Choice, part 2

Sara awoke in a cold sweat, sitting straight up in bed, screaming soundlessly. Her heart wrenched in her chest, and she was sure that she was dying. She looked down at her hands, watching them fluoresce and shake. She knew her brain wasn't getting enough oxygen, but she just couldn't seem to breathe.

"Sara!" Nick's frantic voice was right outside the door, and he didn't wait for a reply. The door flung open, and Nick stood at the threshold for only a moment, taking in heaving gulps of air. He hurried over to bed and sat in front of her as she struggled to stay conscious. Nick grabbed her shoulders when she didn't reply, shook her. The panicked look in her eyes let Nick know she wasn't breathing.

Nick pulled her off the bed, supporting her limp body from behind as he pulled them into a standing position. He pulled a hand around her belly briefly, then pulled her arms upward over her head. Every inch of him was pressed against her, supporting her like a splint on a broken bone. His hands were wrapped around her wrists, his arms cased hers, her back was pulled taut against his chest, and his feet were on the inside of hers, keeping her upright.

She gasped, finally, and Nick was relieved that she was finally taking in air.

"Breathe, honey," he encouraged silkily behind her ear. "Deep breaths, that's it, you can do it. You're not dying, you're not dying, just breathe."

She struggled, wheezing, and Nick didn't let her go, even though she was writhing in his arms like a fish. He couldn't let her go.

"In and out, Sara, don't fight me. In and out...in and out...in and out…don't fight, see? Calm, calm, sweetheart. Slow, calm," he whispered. "Feel your heart slowing down, Sara? Feel it, you're not hurt. You're not dying. Slowing, slowing, it's not going to stop."

Sara trembled in his arms, and when she seemed more sturdy, he gently let their arms fall down to their sides. He wrapped his hands around her waist, determined to make sure she was breathing more regularly. There was a steady in-and-out, and as it slowed, he stepped away from her.

Sara sat down onto the bed, hard, and Nick sat next to her, with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. Hot tears were coming down her cheeks, steadily, and she buried her embarrassed face in her hands.

"This case is already getting to you," he said, not unkindly. "Maybe we should just call Officer Caldwell and tell him you're not the one. It's not too late."

Sara was already looking up, shaking her head. "I'm the v-victim's last v-voice. I'm the only one that can speak for these women. The only one who can understand." She bit her lip, knowing she'd already said too much.

Nick looked at her sharply, not answering her.

"I can't give up before I've ever started. I can't, I won't, " she insisted, turning to face him. "I'm fine."

Nick nodded gruffly, noticing for the first time the way her dark hair framed her flushed face. Her bright eyes shone with vehemence and something deeper, something Nick couldn't place, and didn't know if he wasn't too afraid to. The curve of her unbound breasts was evident under her sports bra, and Nick could see the barest hint of cleavage. He shook himself. He couldn't believe he was thinking about his best friend this way. His best friend, who'd just had gone through a very traumatic panic attack.

Her little shorts were riding up on her bare thighs, and Nick found to his dismay, that he was growing hard. He stood quickly, gave her a very brief squeeze around her shoulders, and turned from her as he began to walk away.

"Nick?" she called as he reached the doorframe.

He turned, hiding his lower half around the wall. "Yeah?"

"Thanks, for coming in. I'm sorry."

Nick shook his head, brushing her apology aside. He turned to go back to his room, and flopped onto the leather sofa with a deep sigh. His erection was painfully hard in his shorts, and he knew he would have to take care of it before he would be able to go back to sleep. Reaching for the tissue on the windowsill, he brought them around close. He proceeded to slip his hands down into his boxers and stroke himself to oblivion.

In the next room, Sara lay awake restlessly. It had been years since she'd had a panic attack as bad as that one had been. Triggered, no doubt, by memories, flashes, whispers on the wind. Her subconscious trying to tell her to back out now, back away fast. Sara would be damned if she'd do it, though. And probably damned if she didn't, too.

Nick had come in, riding to her rescue like a damn knight in shining armor. She knew he loved to play the role, play the hero. What she didn't know was why it hurt so much to have him stand so close, treat her so tenderly. Was it just because she knew it was all part of his nature, his game, his style, as a seducer? Make the ladies faint at your feet; it makes it all the easier to carry them to the bed? She shook her head at herself. Nick didn't think about her that way. Now that she thought about it, since that whole thing with that call girl, she couldn't recall him treating any girl that way.

She sighed deeply; knowing sleep wasn't coming any time soon. She just needed to relax. Relax, and let go. Confused, and not quite sure why she was doing it, she gently pinched her clothed nipples. Now that felt good. Letting go...

Sara slid a hand down into her boy shorts, feeling herself grow aroused at this prospect. She quickly made herself come, then stumbled towards the bathroom to wash her hands and her face, which was still sticky from her tears. As she went back to bed, she cracked the window to air the room out. She very slowly drifted back to sleep.

"Officer Sark, welcome," the burly Captain shook her hand forcefully. His barrel chest and handlebar mustache reminded her a bit of Santa Claus. He filled in his uniform the way Brass would, if he ever wore one. She smiled and shook back, and noticed that he was investigating her hearing aid.

"Hard of hearing," she answered his question and he flushed.

"Yes, er...right this way, the other officers are waiting in the conference room."

He led the way back, past the bullpen, past detectives at desks yelling into phones, and file cabinet after file cabinet. Hadn't they heard of computers in Reno? She continued to smile, and nod gregariously. If Nick could see her now, he would laugh his face off. Sara wasn't a smile and nod type, never had been. But she could play a role, and damn well, if she had to.

As she entered the large conference room, she realized that what she had been dreading all along wasn't so bad. Plenty of smiling faces, some guarded, but friendly, and not a single openly hostile gaze. 'These are the victims,' she reminded herself. Sara immediately began scanning faces, memorizing features and expressions, committing them to memory.

"This is Detective Sark. Sark is joining us from Birmingham, Alabama, where she worked Vice for eight years. Since Detective Merritt is out for an indeterminate amount of time, Sark will be heading Vice. Each of you will spend a day with Detective Sark until she knows her way around Reno. Any questions?"

None imminent, so the captain excused himself and hurried out. Sara could tell he was a man of few words, and that the very few he did say were embarrassed. As he left, conversation rose in the room and almost immediately the officers slipped into their little cliques, seamlessly sliding from chairs into small groups.

"Mary, I'm Edna," a booming voice came from just off her shoulder, and a huge hand clapped her back. The hand then came around to shake hers exuberantly, and Sara felt her teeth jarring.

"Good to meet you, Edna," Sara gave her most charming smile to perhaps the largest woman she had ever seen. Edna Matthews was six foot two, easily two hundred and seventy five pounds, with long, beautiful hair sawed off into a mullet. Her cheerful green eyes showed Sara that this woman was not a victim.

Looking around at the butch women in the small circle of people behind her, Sara searched their faces, looking for traces of fear, humiliation, anger, anything. Nothing. They were all smiling at her like the cat that ate the canary. Sara realized with a start that she had her hair pulled back, a sports bra tightly binding her breasts to her chest, and her pants were baggier than usual. These women probably assumed Sara was another Family member, and it wasn't that Sara minded at all, she just wondered what they would say if they knew she had masturbated only last night after her...encounter with Nick. She smiled graciously at all of them as introductions were made, and then glided to the next group.

"Officer Sark, this is Davis, Hancock and Reinhardt," a toe-headed man of maybe twenty-one shook her hand, then introduced himself as "Caldwell." Sara rose her eyes, which prompted the boy to say, "you've probably heard of my older brother Bryce. He's IA here, and our Father used to be the chief of police. They call me Junior."

The other guys in the group looked just as young and as fun-loving as the younger Caldwell. All of them save Davis had bright blonde hair; his was as black as coal. They jostled her jovially when she told them she wanted to see the real streets of Reno. All promised to show her a good time. Feeling no unnatural vibes coming from this group of barely-more-than-boys, she moved to the next group.

Clustered by the file cabinet in the corner of the room, was a small group of women with their heads together as if they were in a huddle before the big game. They immediately ceased talking when Sara got close. She ambled up, and extended a friendly hand for another round of hand shaking.

None of them would meet her eyes for more than seconds at a time, and most had something clutched in front of their chests: notebooks, a purse, a receipt log.

"I'm Mary Sark," Sara said quietly, easily conforming to the situation.

"Kelly Leads," a blonde woman of about twenty-five, pale gray eyes that reminded her of Bryce Caldwell.

"Mackey Charles," the only black woman of the group, and absolutely the most stunning. Her colored contacts gave her bright green eyes, for which she used to inspect Sara for only a moment for ducking her head again.

"Lacy McReynolds," the next officer said, pointing at her badge. Officer McReynolds had a tight, toned body that filled out her uniform in a way that made Sara wonder if she shouldn't just cross the fence, and fulfill that fantasy. Long, luxurious red hair was primly tucked into a bun, no make-up on the face of a woman who obviously took care of herself.

"I'm Danielle Steel," the last woman said. "Go ahead, you can kid me about it. Most people do," she rolled her eyes, but still didn't make contact with Sara's.

"I wouldn't kid you," Sara answered seriously. She took in Danielle's appearance, also muted; while the other three women were drop-dead gorgeous; Danielle was just pretty, and almost chubby. Her hair dark was down, obscuring her face. This was her group of victims, women who were beautiful, built, and looked, for lack of a better word, straight. Women who couldn't meet her eye, women who had been tortured. She wanted to hold each of their hands, hold them as they cried, commiserate.

To avoid arousing suspicion, she continued to move about the room, meeting the older group of male officers, which accounted for about fifty percent of the officers present in the room. Every single one looked like her dad, old enough, and as jolly as these stiffs were ever going to get. Most of them had a bulging waistline, and more than a few smelled heavily of cigar smoke. She immediately bonded to this group, shaking hands, making easy friends. Her grin was huge as she stepped away to greet the last few stragglers.

"I'm Mary Sark," she took the hand of a delicate-looking flower of a woman who had the eyes of another victim, but with one last burst of spunky courage.

"I'm Officer Maxwell, you'll be riding with me today," she held up a small calendar, in which her own name was penciled in. "Most everyone calls me Max."

"You can call me Sark," Sara nodded, seeing something in Max that she hadn't seen in the other girls. Sara immediately surmised that this was the first woman to have been attacked, because that pale shining in her eyes was vengeance. Sara rounded up her tour by meeting a small effeminate male who proudly proclaimed, "I work in records."

"Shall I call you that?" Sara grinned as she answered.

"Huh?" he looked genuinely confused.

Sara clarified by saying, "Do you want me to call you Officer IworkinRecords?"

He blushed, then gave a little giggle before saying, "Officer Pemberly."

"I'm Detective Sark," Sara ribbed him good-naturedly. She could tell from his flighty manner that he was a dingbat in all senses of the word. He had floated off before she could look up again. Sara went back to Max, and together, they left the station house.

Sara slid into the passenger seat of the patrol car, and waited for Max to get in beside her. Max buckled up and looked over to make sure Sara was buckled also, mostly out of habit.

"Do you have a partner?" Sara asked immediately once Max had started the ignition.

"My partner is out on a leave of absence," Max said, her voice heavy. She stared straight ahead as she pulled out into traffic and Sara saw her jaw clench. Sara realized with a start that Max wasn't a victim. She was just an angry bystander who was watching her partner suffer; knowing there was nothing she herself could do.

Max continued, "I've been working the phones since she's been out, but we're patrolling today since you are with me." She flashed her lights at a passing speeding car, which immediately slowed to a crawl.

"Do you like working in Reno?" Sara asked, looking out the window at the flashing lights of a casino.

A long silence ensued, which Max finally answered by enigmatically saying, "I used to."

"What changed?"

"The people. My feel of the town," Max squinted, then found her sunglasses tucked into the visor and put them on.

"How long have you felt this way?" Sara asked, concerned.

"A while," Max answered, non-committal. Another silence.

"Have you thought about moving on, transferring?"

"Sometimes," Max laughed low, bitter. "But I always told my partner we were stuck like glue, I'd always be here for her. And now she needs me, so I can't leave. Plus, Bob just got promoted at the plant, and my youngest is going through high school. It'd be cruel to take him out before he graduated." Max turned the corner onto a side street, and passed ghetto apartments and several small houses before coming to some older brick homes.

"Where is your partner now?" Sara pushed.

"Des Moines, right now. It's where she grew up," Max turned another corner and pulled up to a small shack with a hand-painted sign that read 'Manuel's.' "She'll be back, soon enough."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be glad to get back on the streets," Sara said brightly as they both got out of the car.

Max's pale lips were pinched as she looked at Sara over the cop car. Sara couldn't see her eyes, but she imagined they were narrowed even so.

"Let me tell you something, Detective Sark. Something bad is going down in Reno, and I figure you're here to find out what it is. Well, so am I. My best friend in this world was left for dead, and I'm not going to rest until I find out who did it."

Sara felt a small chill when she saw Max's hateful grin.

"C'mon. Best breakfast burritos in town," Max slammed the door of the cruiser and walked away.

"How was your first day at work, dear?"

"Oh, just divine, honey," Sara muttered sarcastically, as she dropped her bag on the floor next to the foyer. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she saw Nick was standing with Bryce Caldwell, who did not look amused.

"Oh! Officer, I'm sorry," Sara ducked her head, embarrassed.

"No apologies are necessary," Caldwell smiled with his teeth. Caldwell stood, staring at Sara's small form until Nick very bluntly cleared his throat.

"Sam indicated to me that he wished he could hear your conversations at several points during the day, so I have arranged for you to carry a small microphone, and for Sam to have a listening device also," Caldwell illustrated by holding up a small earpiece and tiny speaker.

"Goody, can we get him something that reads my mind, next?" Sara asked, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of water. Officer Caldwell gazed at her blankly, while Nick rolled his eyes.

"Forgive her, Officer. She's cranky when she isn't hydrated," Nick stared at her pointedly.

"You will immediately begin implementation, subject to adjustments," Caldwell continued formally.

"Thank you, Officer," Sara said, taking a big gulp of water.

"Bryce, I insist," he smiled.

"Bryce," Sara repeated, her own smile weak.

"Officer Caldwell, we were just about to start dinner," Nick interjected, seeing that Sara's patience was already thin.

"I can't stay," Caldwell announced, as if he'd been asked. He turned to Nick and behind his back, Sara crossed her eyes comically. Nick escorted him to the door and bid him goodbye, locking it behind him.

"You could have mentioned he was here," Sara provided Nick with a firm slap on the arm.

"Ow, worker's comp. Employee abuse."

Sara's mind was already leaping. "What smells so good?"

"I, Madame, made sesame tofu and sesame chicken."

"You can cook?" Sara's nose rose to smell the aromatic air.

"Food Network, Channel 47."

"Hmmm, maybe this won't be so bad. Working undercover with the Iron Chef," Sara jostled him playfully. Suddenly, she realized that she and Nick were standing very very close. Sara took a giant step backwards and laughed nervously.

"I'll just go set the table," she babbled.

"It's already done. Just go sit down, this is almost ready," Nick instructed, and watched as Sara sat down at the table, for once, not arguing with him. Nick brought the steaming pan over, and scooped her dinner out onto her plate. He bogarted the rest for himself, digging in eagerly once he'd seated himself across from her.

"So how did your first day go?"

"Fine. I heard you on the way to the station, very cute."

"I do try," Nick winked. "What did you learn?"

"Found the victims, easily. At least six, including the chief of Vice, and a Traffic cop on LOA. Her partner Maxine "Max" Maxwell is bent on revenge, we rode together today. She made it very clear she knew why I was here and gave me the distinct impression she wouldn't tolerate my presence if I was counter-productive to her own investigation."

"I see. Did anyone else seem suspicious of you?"

"The other victims? No. According to the file, most of the Force is unaware of the problem. None of the women will talk, to anyone. The only evidence they have are rape kits, and six identical statements to the hospital staff that it was consensual sex."

"No other unusual activities?" Nick questioned.

"Not so far. I have a group of kids, males; older cops, also males. There is a group of lesbians, not victims, but they did flirt shamelessly with moi, and the victims that are still working, four. And one very flaming Records clerk. Very cute. We should set him up with Greg," Sara grinned as she shoveled in a bite of tofu.

Nick rolled his eyes again and offered her an egg roll. She considered it for a second, and then declined. He took a big bite of it before asking about the captain.

"He could barely stand in the room and say two words, much less conduct an entire conversation and then physically assault someone. I could be wrong, but I wouldn't put money on him," Sara answered honestly.

"I'll check him out tomorrow, just to rule him out," Nick agreed.

"Taking breaks from the busy world of toothpaste manufacturing?" Sara asked, raising a coy eyebrow.

"Well, it does get tedious. Screwing on all those caps," he winked.

Suddenly, Sara wished that wasn't the one thing he was screwing.

TO BE CONTINUED, I promise.