The Choice, Chapter 6
Nick got into the car next to Sara, and watched as Caldwell sped away in his government-issue Buick. He handed her a warm orange package, and as she opened it, she wrinkled her nose.
"Hamburger?"
"Boca Burger, with cheese. It's good. I had mine on the way over," he grunted, handing her a soda also. Sara nodded, consented to eating it, and then took a ravenous bite out of the sandwich.
"So tell me what happened," she demanded, her mouth full.
"I observed Hancock's interrogation, and believe me, that's what it was. Caldwell was ruthless with that guy. Told him we knew about Maxwell, we knew about the rapes, and Maxwell's murder."
"How'd he react?"
"It's not him," Nick shook his head. "The guy turned white as a sheet. He didn't know anything about the rapes. And Caldwell," he rolled his eyes, "that sick bastard started to tell Hancock all about Maxwell's attack. The object rape, the torture. Poor guy just lost it. He threw up right there, in the wastebasket."
"And?"
"And Caldwell just kept goading him until Hancock admitted that he'd had an affair with Isabel Shepard, Maxwell's partner."
"So why was Max over there that night?"
"Delivery service. Isabel had been calling Max, giving her messages for Hancock. Hancock knew about Shepard's rape, and was trying to help Max find her attacker. Hancock didn't know about the other attacks, and if Max knew for certain, she didn't tell him."
"Damn," Sara whispered. "Brutal?"
"I've never wanted a cigarette so badly in my life, after watching that," Nick commented wryly, watching Sara wolf down the remains of the hamburger.
"No fries?" she pouted just a little, and Nick felt brave enough to reach out and tweak her bottom lip. She turned away, embarrassed, and Nick cleared his throat and turned to gaze out the window at the Yates residence.
Sara finally spoke again, after several minutes of silence. "So I made a couple of calls. Yates is single, never been married, and has a mother in Detroit that he never speaks to. He is also one of the only officers that hasn't been cleared. This very well could be our guy."
"How long had Reinhardt and the rest of IA been watching him?"
"Only today. No alibi for last night. Claims he was home alone, according to Reinhardt," Sara took a long sip of her soda. She sat back, rested against the seat and waited for Nick to speak. When he didn't, she played with a small hole in the knee of her jeans. "Did Caldwell tell you how long until we'd get those personnel files?"
"He said Tuesday. Until then, we're watching Yates, IA's watching Barclay and Behr, and we're to narrow the field as far as we can. IA is pulling Barclay and Yates in for interrogation Monday, and Behr on Tuesday. As always, I'll be observing," Nick sighed, watched as one light in the Yates house was turned on, and a half a minute later, another light went off.
"Someone is in there with him," he sat up straighter in his seat.
"Reinhardt said he was alone," Sara argued, frowning.
"I'm telling you Sara, you saw that light on the right side of the second floor go on? Well, less than thirty seconds later, the downstairs light over there," he pointed to the left side of the house, "went out. Now unless the guy went sprinting down the stairs, someone else is in there with him."
"Shit," Sara hissed. "You want to go look?"
The thought hadn't actually crossed Nick's mind, but if they were caught, they could always claim they were just cutting across the yard to the alley behind the house. Nick began a quick scan of the neighboring houses. Unlike Hancock's home, pesky neighbors didn't immediately flank the Yates house. A thick wall of trees guarded his property on the right side of the home, and the left side of the home backed up to a small meadow. Across the street, the two homes facing Yates's were dark.
"Let's go," Nick muttered, sliding out of the seat and waiting for Sara to follow his lead. She did, and they took each other's hands as they jogged across the lawn. Nick prayed the moon would stay obscured behind the clouds.
Sara began to climb the tree nearest to the lighted window on the second floor. Nick debated going after her, but decided if she fell, on the ground he had a decent chance of catching her. She shimmed up the trunk, and Nick watched with some interest as she made a humping motion, trying to inch up to get a view of the window.
"You're not going to believe this!" she whispered loudly.
"What?" Nick whispered back.
"Yates is in there with Pemberly!" she hissed.
"Pemberly? Are you sure?"
"They're sitting at a round table, like a desk. They're looking over papers," she faltered as she leaned forward on the limb for a better view.
"What does it look like?"
"I can't tell from here," Sara said softly. "They look cozy though."
"Planning a murder cozy, or in for the night cozy?"
"They are avidly discussing something..."
"Sara, watch out!"
It was too late, Nick thought, as Sara lost her tenuous footing and began to fall. Nick was under her in a flash, reaching out for her, and she collapsed on him, bringing him down onto his back in the Yates's side yard.
"Ooof!" Sara's breath was expelled from her body in one giant gust. Nick groaned under her, and as she shifted against him, trying to regain her bearings, she felt the hot hard length of him though his jeans. Looking straight into his eyes with surprise, Sara was inches away from his lips.
She searched his face, looking for any signs of rejection. She closed her eyes, leaned forward, and breathed hard through her parted lips, knowing that if their mouths touched, it would change everything between them.
"Who's out there?" An angry voice called from the back porch.
Nick's eyes went wide with fright, and he used his strong body to push Sara off of him and pull her up to stand in one fluid motion. He pulled her in behind the large tree trunk, hoping that the suspicious homeowner wouldn't come poking around the edges of the property.
"I'm RPD! I am armed and I will not hesitate to shoot!" The voice sounded near, and Nick held Sara impossibly close to him against the rough bark of the tree. Both forgot to breathe until they heard the slamming of a screen door, and out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw the back porch light go off.
Sara moved to leave, but Nick held her close for several long minutes, not looking into her questioning face. When he thought it was safe, he released her from his grip and began to ease away from the tree. He took her hand as they slunk back through the foliage towards the car. They were careful to very quietly shut the doors behind them, sealing them into the vehicle.
"That was too close," Nick muttered, placing his hand to his chest.
"The stakeout or the other?" Sara asked, her voice stilted. She couldn't quite meet his eyes.
Nick shot her a look that clearly told her he thought she was crazy. "Sara, you know very well I meant you climbing up into that tree. You liked'ta scared the life outta me!" Sara noticed that his accent became stronger and thicker when he was upset, and the thought made her smile.
"So what do you think?" Sara asked, still a little breathless with excitement. "Yates, possibly a raving misogynist, with the only out gay male officer on the Force. I think I could make a pretty strong argument to Caldwell regarding the 'partner' theory," Sara raised an eyebrow.
"Let's not jump to conclusions. Or out of any more trees," Nick rolled his eyes.
"I didn't jump, I fell," Sara volleyed, but Nick ignored her.
"We don't know Yates yet, and we certainly can't guess that he's a 'raving misogynist.' He might just be a loner. You, Miss Independence, might know something about that."
"I'm not a loner," she frowned. Nick continued, airily.
"Moreover, we don't know why he's with Pemberly. They could be doing something perfectly innocent. Like planning a surprise party."
"Now you're just teasing," Sara grumbled, noticing a leaf stuck to her tank top. She pulled it off the cloth and proceeded to tear it into small pieces as Nick watched her with amusement. He turned back towards the window and got quiet.
After several long minutes, he shifted in his seat.
"Tell me about Texas," Sara asked softly, and Nick turned to look at her in surprise. "Tell me what you love most about Texas."
"Well, uh, I love a lot of things about Texas," he stammered.
"Tell me your favorite memories," Sara urged, and Nick grew quiet once more as he thought for a few moments.
"Well, I was born in Dallas, but my parents had a farm about an hour and a half out into the country, in Henderson. Dad's brother used to run it until he retired; now some local boys run it. We used to go out there every summer to work for Uncle Jack. My brother Frank and I would go with him to manage the cattle, and Aunt June would have the girls pick vegetables and feed the chickens and bale hay and stuff like that."
"Sounds fun," Sara commented, her dark eyes shining.
"Some of it was. Jack'd get us on Moe and Larry, those were Dad's old horses, and we'd round up the cows to get them ready to go down the chute."
"The chute?" Sara's voice was mystified.
"Well, there was this corral, that you'd send the cows down the chute, keep them penned up long enough to give them their shots, and tag them, and then release them into the corral, one at a time. That was when you were getting ready to load them up and send them to sale, or to..." he didn't finish.
"Where?"
"Uh, the slaughterhouse."
"Oh," Sara's prim response told him everything.
"But sometimes Jack would just let us ride around the farm, pick flowers for the girls, or ride down to the river and swim. Frank was...eighteen, nineteen I think. Of course, I was only five or six, and I had to ride on the saddle in front of him. I begged, begged Uncle Jack to let me ride my own horse."
"When did he let you?"
"Well, now just listen," Nick teased, still concentrating on the house. "When I was about seven, Frank and the older cousins decided to put me on a pony, a Shetland pony. Well, Shetlands are mean little bastards, only I didn't know that."
"Oh no!" Sara just knew Nick was about to meet his match.
"So this pony just immediately bucks me off, and wouldn't you know, I landed right in the briar patch," Nick winced at the memory. "Those boys pulled me out of there, and I was just covered in thorns."
"What happened?"
"Well, I went back up to the house, and June was just furious with those boys. Katie and Aly, my sisters, they spent an hour pulling all those little thorns out. June made all those boys sleep out on cots on the porch that night. Took all their keys away, hid them in the larder."
"The larder?" Sara asked, quizzically.
"Like a very large, well-stocked pantry," Nick explained, smiling. "It was another couple of years before I ever got on a horse again. Which just meant all the boys teased me even more about that. I just wanted to play with Katie-bird anyway."
"Katie's your youngest sister, right?"
"Yeah, she's three years older. We were tight, even then. Katie's always been my best friend."
"Tell me more," Sara leaned back in the seat, listening to the soft cadence of Nick's voice, as he told her stories about life on the farm, and with his family. Katie's jealousy the first time he brought home a serious girlfriend, getting caught with the neighbor girl, making out in the barn, camping out with his older cousins under the big Texas sky, the stars imprinting themselves on his memory.
Finally, he broke Sara out of her reverie by telling her the lights had gone out in the Yates residence. They watched the house for another hour, and finally, Nick started the car and drove around the back alley. The alley and the driveway were empty, and Nick cursed under his breath.
"Pemberly must have come out the back," he groused as he turned the car around. Driving them home, he noticed with amusement that Sara was looking very sleepy. By the time they got back to the apartment, she was assed-out in the passenger seat. She, surprisingly, had no objections as Nick came around to her side of her car, and scooped her up in his arms.
"Shhh," he whispered as he carried her in. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but the events of the day were catching up to her quickly, and she found that she didn't have the energy. He turned sideways as he carried her in, and kicked the door closed behind him. He managed to juggle her just enough to lock the door, and took her into the bedroom. Laying her out on the bed, he removed her socks and shoes, and Sara had just enough remaining energy to unbutton her jeans and shimmy out of them.
Nick stood up, began to turn to leave when Sara drowsily ordered him to stay.
With a sigh, and a quick, silent argument with himself about why he shouldn't, he removed his pants and shoes and slid into the bed next to her. She stayed on her side of the bed, flopping onto her stomach, and Nick heard her soft snores within seconds. He laid on his back next to her, playing the situation out in his mind. It wasn't very long before he too, was fast asleep.
The next morning, he was awake and alert at six a.m. The events of the day before had obviously been taxing, because Sara was still dead to the world, on her back, with a limp hand flung over onto Nick's belly.
He slipped out from underneath her, and quietly left her room. Changing into his running clothes, he decided a seven-mile run would be adequate enough to punish himself for the indiscretion with Sara from the day before. He laced up his running shoes, and stretching only a few minutes, he bounded down the stairs of their second floor apartment to the street.
He pushed himself like mad, running faster, working harder, and breathing like an asthma patient in a marathon. Fueled by his desire to run Sara out of his system, he pounded through the forest trail like he was running for his life. The pre-dawn dimness of the wooded area helped set the mood of an attack as he strained and urged himself on, faster, faster, like a frightened rabbit. Darting around corners, around curves like a snake, his body was sinewy and sweaty with the exertion. He ignored the twigs and branches, pulling at the thin cotton of his muscle shirt when he brushed too close. They scraped and pulled at his skin, but he pressed on. Emerging from the forested area, he slowed as he approached their neighborhood, and was jogging by the time he reached the apartment complex. Vaulting himself up the concrete staircase into the porch that led to the front door, his heart leapt into his chest.
The front door was ajar, and he drew his gun from the holster he'd been wearing non-stop since Maxwell's murder. Holding it out in front of him, he pushed the door open, pivoting around the corner in the foyer the way he'd learned in the Academy. He closed the door behind him, almost silently. He stealthily crept through the apartment, rounding the corner to the bedroom. The door was wide open, and through it, he could see Sara was not in bed, and the darkened closet was also empty, the door flung upon. The entire apartment was eerily silent, and he continued his search, easing through the kitchen to swing the pantry door open, then the door to the utility room. He opened the door of the small lavatory at the end of the hall, but it was empty and dark. He did a quick sweep of the den and had almost decided to reholster his gun when he heard a distinct noise from the bedroom. He steadied his gun as he crept in, keeping his stance as he plunged forward into the room. He turned on the closet light, and found no one hiding behind the door.
He turned and approached the bathroom door, his entire body on edge. He reached for the knob, and willed his heart not to stop completely. He threw the door open and leveled his gun.
"Freeze!"
Sara screamed in surprise and stood stock still, clutching the towel around her body more tightly.
"The front door was standing open," Nick managed to gasp, his heart beating frantically in his chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Her eyes were wild, and she too, was breathing heavily, her chest rapidly heaving. Sweat had pooled at the neck of his muscle shirt, making a dark stain on his sternum, and his track pants were slung low on his hips.
Both were still gasping for breath, staring at each other with wide eyes. Like magnets, unable to resist a moment longer, they came together with a clash of flesh. Lips, tongues tangled as the fire between them flared and grew, threatening to consume them both.
Nick moved from the Sara's lips to the impossibly soft skin of her neck and throat, gently nipping and sucking, causing Sara to moan uncontrollably. Awkwardly, they moved towards the bed, feeling and touching each other with reckless, wanton abandon.
Sara dropped her towel and lay back onto the bed, staring at Nick hungrily as she pulled him down on top of her. Kissing madly, both found it increasingly difficult to break apart to breathe. Sara fondled him gently through the front of his pants, watching his closed eyes, his handsome face contorting with pleasure. His breathing hitched and he hissed her name through his teeth.
"Sara, please," he begged. Capturing her mouth again in a frenzied kiss, he wrapped his tongue around hers and sucked. Sara moaned desperately, arching against his palm as he cupped her bare breast in his hand. Gently rubbing, causing her to emit excited pants, he imagined he'd never seen anything so raw and beautiful. Leaning down, his lips closed around her small nipple, his teeth scraping her flesh. She bucked beneath him wildly in unbearable pleasure.
Slowly, he slipped his hand down to the warm apex of her thighs, stroking her gently to oblivion. Continuing to kiss and suck at her breasts, his fingers brought her to sweet ecstasy in a matter of minutes. A sheen of sweat glowed across her writhing body.
Nick found her mouth again to share an urgent, drugging kiss.
Sara reacted with a startled yelp at the sound of pounding on the front door. Nick froze, and cupped his hand over her mouth. Putting a finger to his lips, he rose off of her body, and stood, grabbing his gun from the bedside table before easing out of the room. He gestured for her to get dressed, and she stood, going to the bedroom door and closing it behind him. Sara hurriedly pulled clothes from the bureau, hearing Nick in the living room calling to her, "it's Captain Caldwell."
Muttering a curse, she shoved her legs into a pair of panties and then pulled on a pair of jeans. Forgoing a bra, at least for the moment, she pulled on a t-shirt and ran her fingers through her damp hair. She took a quick, cursory glance in the mirror before sailing out of the bedroom, attempting to look casual, nonchalant, and not the least bit post-coital. Caldwell seemed oblivious, and for that, Sara was grateful.
"In the wake of Officer Maxwell's murder, we're pulling in the rape victims to allow Mary to interview them. Sark, I want you to observe." He nodded at both of them.
Sara went back to the bedroom, and pulled her t-shirt off. Nick slipped in behind her, and looked embarrassed to see her standing there, topless. Sara had no time for such pleasantries, and she proceeded to dig through the drawers for a clean bra as Nick stammered.
"Sara, we don't have to do this. Caldwell has to give us a day off," Nick reminded her.
"The sooner we can get this over with, the sooner we can find a cold-blooded killer. And we get to go home," Sara found a button down shirt and proceeded to button herself into it.
Nick silently nodded and accompanied her back out to the living room, where Caldwell was waiting.
Slipping in the back door of the station house was a new experience for Sara. She was led down a series of hallways, and finally through a door marked "Private." Through the one-way glass, she could see Interview Room 1, where Danielle Steel, Mackey Charles, and Lacy McReynolds were gathered. Kelly Leads was ushered in a minute later and she proceeded to sit down across from the other women. All four glanced furtively at one another and occasionally at the glass.
Sara came through the door and sat at the foot of the table, and tried to look relaxed.
"Good morning, ladies," her soft tone belied her apprehension.
None of the officers answered, all were engrossed in their own laps.
"There is an officer behind that glass, listening to us, that cares about all of you very much," her voice broke. "I care about you very much." All of the girls looked up at Sara in surprise, then shot looks towards the mirror.
"You have to tell me what happened to you," she urged.
The room was silent for a long minute.
"Let me tell you what I know," Sara tried a different tact. "I know that all four of you were admitted to St. John's Emergency Room Trauma Unit on different dates within the past four months. I know all of you asked for a SART, and were given birth control. All of you tested positive for semen. The same semen." Sara stopped to catch her breath and sweep her eyes across their faces. "I have three detectives in this room, and one sergeant. I know I don't need to explain the clock to you ladies. All of you had swelling, bruising and tearing at the dinner hour, indicating sex was non-consensual."
Steel cleared her throat, but didn't say anything.
"Give us something, please?" Sara finally said, her voice breaking.
"We can't!" Mackey Charles hissed.
"Can't you see that we can't?" Kelly Leads threw in darkly.
"Why not?" Sara asked, her voice sharp.
None of the women answered her.
"I won't give up unless you tell me why you can't report your own rapes!" Sara's voice rose.
"We can't," Danielle asserted helplessly.
"We've been given The Choice," McReynolds testified ominously. Chills ran down Sara's spine.
"The Choice? The choice to do what?" Sara blurted.
Kelly Leads stood, "Unless we're being charged, criminally, we're leaving. And tell that bastard Bryce that we're not speaking with IA again without an attorney present." All four of the officers filed out of the room, and Sara returned to the small observatory.
Both Sara and Nick immediately turned to Caldwell.
"What?"
"'That bastard Bryce?'" Sara clarified.
Caldwell cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Kelly can get emotional," he admitted.
"Since when is the Captain of Internal Affairs and a Traffic cop on a first name basis?"
"She's my sister," he reported mildly, followed by, "and she's a Detective, Mr. Sark, not a 'cop.'
"She's your sister?" Sara asked, her voice filled with a kind of sick horror.
Caldwell shrugged, and Sara had the very distinct urge to hit him. Nick recognized the look on her face, and quickly escorted her out of the room and into the hall.
"That bastard can't even feel compassion for his own sister!" Sara fairly yelled as soon as the door was closed. Nick winced and gestured for her to lower her voice.
"Mary, please, go home and get some sleep. This relentless work is not good for either of us. And since Caldwell won't let me off the hook, at least one of us should be rested," he reached up to gently touch her face, and Sara found herself giving in, closing her eyes at the sensation, leaning in to him.
When he wrapped his arms around her for a hug, Sara released her inhibitions and embraced him back, holding on to him for dear life.
"I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time alone," he whispered.
"But you said it yourself," she murmured, "I'm not here to find a boyfriend."
Nick closed his eyes and when he reopened them, he pulled back and gazed into the face of the woman he had been falling for since the moment he met her.
"Go home and get some sleep, please. Clean, if you want to. I'll be home to make dinner at six," he promised.
Sara didn't actually feel like arguing, so she slipped out of his grasp and made her way back up the hallway toward the stairs that led to the outside world.
Outside, she heard her name—well, her alias, at least—ring out across the parking lot. Officer Pemberly was standing by her car, waving at her exuberantly. As she came closer, he approached and gave her a big bear hug, which she tentatively returned.
"Oh, Sark, honey, I love those shoes!" he crowed.
"Thank you," she managed gruffly. He began to admire her handbag and babble about purses of the season, and Sara, eyes narrowed, wondered what exactly he and Yates were hiding.
"So what do you think?"
"Huh?" Sara snapped out of it to find Pemberly staring at her expectantly.
"Ooooh, girl, you were on cloud nine! C'mon, what's his name...?"
Sara couldn't help but snort with laughter. She pointed at her ring. "Mr. Sark."
Pemberly shot her an unconvinced look. "Honey, the last time a woman actually fantasized about her husband, they were actually having sex!" he teased.
"Maybe we are," Sara teased back, despite her suspicions. She honestly didn't know if she could believe that this flirty little flibbertigibbet could hurt anyone.
"Doll, if you find a man like that, you send him my way," Pemberly gave her an air-kiss, then waved again as she got into her car.
Sighing, she started the ignition. As much as she hated to admit it, Nick was right. She did need to rest. And Caldwell wasn't letting up—he would continue to work them, nights, weekends, days off, until they were either too exhausted to go on, or they dropped dead. Sara convinced herself to go back to the apartment and take a nap, and then clean before Nick came back. She just hoped it would be enough.
TO BE CONTINUED, eventually.