A Sky Full of Tears
(Nip/Tuck – CSI: Miami)
Sequel to "Martyr's Moon"
Disclaimers in part I.
A SKY FULL OF TEARS
(Nip/Tuck – CSI: Miami)
by wordwolf
PART V.
Troy snatched the telephone in a strangling grip, suspecting fearfully who would be on the other end. Placing it to his ear, he said nothing, waiting for the other.
And the other did not disappoint. "Hi, Christian. I see you got my little gift." A brief pause as he awaited a response. "What, not even a thank-you? I'm crushed. Oh, by the way, so is she."
That helped Troy find his voice. "You filthy bastard," he spat, "what do you want?"
"Well, that's something of an open question, isn't it?" Pierce was getting into his stride, obviously enjoying the role. "It changes for all of us from day to day, and I'm no exception. For a while now, what I've really wanted is our mutual friend Karen. I'm sure we've been sharing that desire since a certain night when we both got to have her… but since then all you've had is a memory, and I've had the real thing – over and over and over again!" He sniggered. "Not without quite a bit of resistance on her part, but still."
Troy's eyes went hot and wet. "Christ, what will it take to get you to stop torturing us both?"
"Hey, get a grip, Christian; no need to have kittens. I was just about to say that I DID want her – for a while. Now I'm bored, and I don't want her anymore. So I was wondering: When I've got something I don't want anymore, do I sell it secondhand, or throw it away?"
"You'd let her go?" This was the last thing Troy had expected.
"For a price. Maybe."
Troy chose to ignore the obvious needling in the other's tone, and tried to damp down the hope in his own. "Name it; it's yours."
Pierce clucked his tongue. "Now, now, it's not so cut and dried as that. I haven't made up my mind yet. But you have lots of nice stuff, and the money to buy lots more. Once I'm ready to leave town, I'll need the means to make a new start, and to drive out in style."
"You're leaving?"
"Miami was fun for a while, especially with ocean and swamp to three sides, but there's nothing here for me anymore. I hear New Orleans calling my name, or maybe Vancouver. Why should I bring a broken piece of ass with me?"
It was hard not to curse the line blue, but Troy kept his grip. "Deal. Whatever you want, Pierce; just let me have Karen back alive."
"But I like my negotiations face to face. So I'll see you tomorrow at high noon."
"Tomorrow? But the storm is hitting after midnight, and they say it'll blow all day!"
Chuckling at the other end. "Too afraid of a little wind and rain to save your girl? Some lover you are!"
"Noon it is," Troy growled. "Name the place."
"I did already. Turn the photo over." Troy obeyed. "See those numbers? They're GPS coordinates. You got a GPS?"
"In my car."
"Good. And by the way, I know where you went today. To the cops. And I know you're planning to call them again the second we hang up here. I'd advise you not to do that. Really bad idea."
Troy didn't show how that correct surmise had thrown him. "Oh? Why?"
"Because there are many ways to die, some of them a lot nastier than others. In fact, if you breathe a word about this little conversation to anyone – the cops, the media, that dumb-as-a-doorknob partner of yours, anyone – I will know about it, and I'll tie up your precious little bitch in a puddle of gasoline and light a slow fuse. Got that?"
"I understand." Troy suddenly couldn't breathe.
"See you at noon. Bring your checkbook, credit cards, title to all vehicles, loose cash, and anything else you can think of. I'll bring the girl." Click.
In the boiling stew of Troy's emotions, the first ingredient, oddly, was exhilaration. He had a chance! Sure, it was going to be costly, but only in money, and he could always make a lot more of that. All he needed now was to establish a cover for the meeting.
Composing himself, he casually wandered into his partner's office. "Sean," he began offhandedly, "maybe we should consider closing the office tomorrow, what with Tropical Storm Kristin hitting soon."
McNamara looked up. "You think so?"
"Well, I don't want to feel responsible for any of our employees or patients getting into an accident on the way here in heavy rain and fifty-mile-an-hour winds."
"You've got a point. Maybe we should reschedule what we can and have everyone stay home." He smiled. "Nothing like watching heavy weather from the inside of a nice dry house."
"Exactly." Troy grinned a bit too broadly. "Safe and warm."
XX
Troy woke late the next morning, unsure how he'd been able to sleep at all. Maybe the steady roar of the rain and wind against the building as the storm broke had had something to do with it. Or perhaps, with a way clear to resolution of his nightmare, his heart had some peace at last. For the price of some money, a few easily replaced toys, and a trip out in lousy weather, his life could be made complete.
He'd considered his options carefully and in detail as he lay in bed last night, and now he was ready. Deliberately he did not rush, but went carefully through every step of his morning routine. After that it was a matter of minutes to pull together the documents Pierce had demanded and to gather all the cash he had at the moment. Paying off the bastard would be no problem. Of course, as soon as he had brought Karen to safety, the police would get that call. With a little luck, they'd get Pierce before he could skip town. Troy reflected that it would be nice to share his satisfaction with Lt. Caine.
Pulling out of the garage, he carefully checked his onboard GPS. Good thing that these systems were engineered for almost all weather; as long as he could get a signal off of three of seven satellites through the clouds, he could get to Karen. The rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was blasting across the city, but as far as he was concerned, Kristin was just an effective way of clearing the streets of the usual heavy traffic. Christian Troy checked his coordinates, hit the gas, and headed south.
He wasn't thinking about how to handle the encounter; that he'd play by ear. Right now he was too busy planning the aftermath. If she didn't need immediate medical attention, he'd bring Karen home for a good night's rest first, then into the office to plan and begin treatment. Every single mark that maniac had inflicted would be expunged utterly, returning her to the perfection that nature had given her. They'd especially attack the hideous scorpion tattoo that had begun this whole ordeal – slowly, with the laser, as Sean had wanted. It'd take over a year of treatments, but in the meantime Troy would have other things to keep his girl's spirits up – starting with the most elegant diamond singleton he could find in all Miami.
It would be a short engagement, of course, only as long as it took to plan the wedding. For the honeymoon, she'd have her choice of Hawaii, Paris, Tuscany, San Francisco, safari in Kenya, or one of those Antarctic cruises. Once they got home, his apartment would suffice only until the children started coming. He smiled; that would be soon. He knew she wanted children as much as he did. Maybe they'd get a nice house in Sean and Julia's neighborhood, with lots of room. He'd like three – or hell, maybe even four! Karen would be a great mom, that was certain.
Yes, she would give him children, and he would give her anything and everything she ever desired. If she wanted to go back to school for the degree that Pierce's machinations had denied her, well, that would only be the beginning! And of course – this was very important – from now on, Karen would set the tone of his social life and entertainment. What would she want? Theater, symphony, dance, opera – he'd take her anywhere, to anything, and he would enjoy it with her. If she was a Sunday regular at that church of hers, then he'd go too. Maybe he'd even allow himself to be persuaded, and have himself rebaptized a Methodist. Wouldn't that get Sean's panties in a bunch, he thought with a snicker. And of course, the long evenings at home, sharing the great poets of the English language… Whatever it took, his nights in bars and clubs, hunting new flesh and scratching his itches, were over for good. He would prove Kimber dead wrong about him. Karen would make a new man of him, the man he always should have been.
Troy felt like shouting, or singing; he hadn't been this exhilarated in ages. The car handled the way the commercials and the German engineers had promised. The wind seemed to be speeding him along the empty highway; the rain was clearing his way. He pawed for a CD to slide into the player, knowing exactly the one he wanted. The last time he'd heard Ocean Rain, one track had chilled him all the way through, but this album sang both of death and of resurrection. On it went.
"Here am I, whole at last with a golden view
Looking for hope and I hope it's you
Splitting my heart cracked right in two
The pleasure of pain endured to
Purify our misfit ways
And magnify our crystal days…"
He drove faster, defying the weather, only slowing down once the GPS told him to exit the highway. He felt only the merest tickle of foreboding – more a frisson of excitement, really – as he realized it was leading him into the Everglades. James Pierce certainly had a sense of symmetry.
It was much slower going now as he picked his way along back roads, one eye always on the GPS screen. He had to plow through deep standing puddles, force his way across spots where the road was nearly washed out. Navigating the famous swamp in a tropical storm was a very different experience from being brought here on a still summer night – and in every way preferable. Then he'd been a helpless prisoner; today he'd taken control. Even when he had to abandon the car, his confidence did not flag. No, he couldn't drive any closer, but that huge, wind-whipped old cypress tree up ahead, lashing its branches in the air over a small spit of solid ground, was the final landmark. Eagerly Troy plunged into the storm, barely keeping his footing as he struggled to ford a deep slough that lay between him and the goal. Mud to his ankles, water to his thighs, the wind shoving hard to lay him on his face in the muck of the swamp, high noon as dark as six – he defied it all and pushed on.
There was something new at Pierce's secret place. The remains of the bonfires of the new moon were long gone, and the clearing was dominated by, of all things, a building. A modest wooden shed, obviously recent, covered most of the spot. Troy knew what – or who – was in it, waiting for rescue, for him. Heart racing, struggling through the mud and the lashing air and water, he gained the solid ground and gave a shout of triumph.
Filthy and wet through, Troy was grateful to find the door of the shack unlocked. He stumbled in out of the maelstrom, shutting the door behind him against the wind and taking a moment to catch his breath before looking around. At first glance, it seemed that looking around in such darkness was an utter waste of time. The lights were out, if indeed the windowless shed had any lights at all, and the gloom of the storm outside only deepened the shadows within. The steady rumble of the rain against the roof blurred into deep white noise.
Slowly Troy's eyes adjusted as best they could, picking deeper, solid forms out of the general dark. No sign of James Pierce as yet, but there was a big boxy shape against the far wall, like a trunk or chest, and near it – what? Some kind of rounded shape, raised on slim legs above the floor – a chair. Someone slumped over in a chair.
Troy covered the distance across the shed in three bounds. As he approached, more of the figure resolved: the dark hair, subtle curves of a female form, the head fallen over on the breast. Still too dark for details; he could not be sure…"Karen?"
The woman's head slowly rose, face unrecognizable in the deep dark, but weakened voice very familiar. "Christian? Oh Christian, you came!" She rose from the chair to meet him, flinging herself into his arms that spread wide to receive her. Their lips found each other without light, her mouth opening hungrily onto his, tongue sliding in deep and expertly as her pelvis pressed against him, her hips working, grinding them together…
Troy's eyes closed as their bodies met… then opened wide in astonishment as he felt her working him. This was his tragic innocent, brought back for violation and torment, rescued at last? He broke the kiss and his hold, stepping back from her, seizing her wrists in his hands. "I don't know what the hell is going on," he demanded breathlessly, "but you are not Karen Avalon. Who are you?"
TO BE CONTINUED