Safest Place to Hide
Chapter 2
Twisted
They managed to gather up all of the complaints from the applicants over the last three semesters. In total, the complaints and threat letters amounted to much more than Bobby or Alex had ever wanted to deal with. Even between them they'd been sequestered to one of the interview rooms for most of the night, complete with Chinese take-out boxes scattered around them.
"How many students are accepted again?" Alex asked on a heavy sigh. She'd been in the precinct far too long for one night, something her partner picked up on with a smile that was very much on the sympathetic side.
"75 a semester with over 250 applicants," he responded. Alex groaned dropping her head onto her folded arms.
"Go home, Eames. This is almost done, I can finish it up." He'd known her reaction before the words had left his mouth and was rewarded with his guess as she shook her head.
"You get in to trouble without me," she answered her words muffled in her arms since she hadn't lifted her head. He chuckled, setting down his pen. She looked up, eyes pleading with him to call it a night. After all, the papers weren't going anywhere in the span of a few hours. He tried to resist the puppy eyes -- it would have been so much easier to get a start on the complaints in the morning rather than pick this up then start – but she was a practiced veteran. What he did for this woman.
"Alright, we'll call it a night, but you owe me. Pick this up tomorrow?"
"Or today, depending on how you look at it," she parried as they gathered up and filed away all the papers.
Wearily, Alex climbed the stairs to her apartment, making a mental note to take something special into the precinct the next morning for her partner. She pulled out her keys automatically but stopped when she noticed the door was slightly ajar. She withdrew her gun as she pushed the door open with her foot. Her shoes came off inside the doorway to make her footsteps quieter in the apartment. Alex had to hold in a gasp as she got a good look at her apartment. The place was in tatters, and that was just the living room. She avoided stepping through the kitchen since she wasn't wearing shoes, and most of her living room since both were scattered with broken glass. Picture frames and knickknacks were broken and off of the shelves where they normally sat. The mirror in the bathroom was smashed – in a humorous moment that was actually unwelcome, Alex felt sorry for the person that had broken it since it meant seven years of bad luck – as well as the one over her dresser in her bedroom. Her drawers were emptied over the floor and her bed actually torn apart, much like her couch and comfy armchair.
When she was sure no one else was in the apartment, she put in the proper call to the authorities. Now that she looked around it hit her that someone had rifled through all of her things. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a robbery but the rips in her furniture told her there was something more sinister in the movements. These thoughts came easily since she was much more comfortable analyzing the scene than trying to think that this was her apartment.
Soon, the place was swarming with CSU personnel and four different officers had taken a statement from her. Another thing that made her fidget was the lack of familiar faces in the crowd of officers. Thus, when she saw her partner making his way through the throng of people she almost threw herself into his arms. To her credit, he looked just as relieved to see her in one piece.
"Lewis called and said he'd heard from a friend about your apartment," he explained before she could ask. Quite frankly, Alex didn't care very much how he made it, just thankful he was there.
"Just get me out of here," she pleaded with him. He nodded, asked for her keys and made sure she was safely strapped into the passenger's side before he moved to the driver's seat. Alex didn't say a word, just continued to stare out the windshield. It made the drive to his apartment virtually silent, something that scared Bobby much more than he'd ever admit. Gently he escorted her up the stairs and into his apartment where he showered her to his bathroom. Using a soft, unthreatening voice, he suggested she get cleaned up and he'd make her a cup of coffee. Slowly, she began to comply. He left her with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt she'd left there on one occasion or another.
It wasn't, of course, the only thing she had at his apartment – furthering his cause in getting her to stay when she'd inevitably protest to such an arrangement. It had slowly become easier for each of them to keep clothes and other toiletries for nights where business leaked over and neither really wanted to continue their work in the precinct. She had a spare coat on a hook by the door and shoes on the mat, some spare jackets in the coat closet, hangars in his clothing closet and drawers in his dresser. They'd developed a very companionable after-hours partnership since she'd been on maternity leave, something he valued above all else.
It was why her silence terrified him.
He made coffee on autopilot, listening carefully for the shower to turn off. When he did, he withdrew the mugs from the cupboard and poured Alex's 'live-giving brew' into one. When she didn't emerge ten minutes later, he began to get worried.
"Eames?" he called through the closed door.
"I'm alive," she managed to squeak out. It sounded like she'd been crying. Immediately his protectiveness sky-rocketed.
"I'm coming in," he warned her as he opened the door. Sure enough, there were tear tracks on her cheeks and her face was red. His heart instantaneously went out to her as she sat on the toilet. He hissed quietly through his teeth.
"Alex," he managed, both subconsciously realizing he'd used her first name. Gently, he pulled her up and into his arms where she gripped his t-shirt in her fists and started sobbing.
In all honesty, Bobby wasn't exactly sure what he'd meant to accomplish when he pulled her to him. It did give him a healthy insight to Alex's actual reaction to having someone paw through all of her belongings. He murmured what he hoped were reassuring things in her hair though neither would be able to actually decipher the exact words. Eventually, her tears calmed, her breathing evened out and she started to sag against him. Alex Eames had fallen asleep.
He easily lifted her into his arms and deposited her carefully on his bed, pulling up the covers around her. He lay beside, intending to watch and make sure she was actually asleep only for a few minutes. However, exhaustion soon caught up with him and he found himself falling asleep.
Bobby was jolted awake by the thrashing of the woman beside him. He above her protectively before he realized Alex was having a nightmare. Originally, he'd thought it would be better to wait it out with her, let the horror finish, work its way through her system, but a few minutes later he changed his mind. Alex didn't deserve this.
He shook her lightly, calling her name in the dark. When she did open her eyes, it took her a few minutes to remember her surroundings. When she did, and realized who was beside her, she burst into tears for the third time that night, throwing herself against the comforting length of his body. As unprepared as he'd been, his arms found their way around her body.
"It's okay, Alex," he told her softly, "you're safe here."
"God, Bobby –" she managed in between sobs. He was starting to get a little worried that she'd make herself sick and wrapped his arms a little tighter around her. Slowly, the sobs subsided and he looked down at his partner, snuggled against him. Her forehead began to crinkle in confusion as to why he was lying beside her and he tensed, ready for an outburst even as he apologized.
"I'm sorry. I'll go sleep on the couch." But Alex's small arms tightened around him, squishing his ribs only slightly as she shook her head vigourously.
"Stay here," she requested.
"Alex…" Her eyes were still teary, her grip still insistent and Bobby found himself giving in.
"Please? Just hold me?" On a normal day, those words would have frozen him. Even now it showed him how scared Alex actually was with the events of the last twelve hours. But Bobby Goren was no idiot and knew an unconditional declaration of trust when he saw one. So, he stayed, his hand tracing her back to calm the still trembling muscles.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly, his arms never stopping the caress of her back. Alex shook her head empathetically. He wanted her to talk about it, knew it was better for her to get the horror out of her system than it was to keep it bottled up. Maybe in the morning.
"Please, Bobby…" He wasn't sure what she was pleading for, but he pulled her closer anyway. He didn't fall asleep until he was sure she was.
They next morning, Bobby awoke to empty arms and puttering in the kitchen. He stayed in bed for a few moments listening. Alex, he'd discovered, had a habit of humming to the radio that she'd turn on softly while she made coffee. This morning, there was silence. Alex must have been more disturbed than he'd originally thought.
He took his time wandering into the kitchen, considering how on earth he was going to deal with his partner. She had and extra steaming much on the table when he walked in. He thanked her with a gentle smile as their eyes met and he watched her continue throwing ingredients into one of his mixing bowls. He got curious when she moved about his kitchen, opening and closing cupboards.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"Chocolate," she answered simply. That was not a good sign. For Alex, chocolate was an indulgence for the worst of times. As he lifted her mug from where she'd set it by the sink he realized she'd made coffee for him, but hot chocolate for herself. He took a few steps of precaution away from her before he spoke next.
"I don't have any," he confessed with a wince. Alex dropped her hand to her side in defeat. He tried so hard then to placate her before she exploded, or worse, shut down.
"We'll go shopping after work."
"I was going to stay with family. I couldn't impose on you for another night," she protested immediately. Part of him was thankful she'd taken the change of subject instead of either of the other reactions he'd expected, but the other part realized it hadn't occurred to him that she wouldn't be staying.
"It's not imposing at all, Alex," he tried to assure her. In reality, now that he got a chance to think about it, he would feel much better until her robber was caught that Alex was staying with him.
"I can't…" Her tone of voice contradicted her words. He was her safe haven and had been extremely understanding with her nightmare and shock.
"It would make things easier. You wouldn't have to drive to pick me up, you have clothing and toiletries already here and it's not like you haven't slept over here before." He sincerely hoped his voice wasn't as pleading as he thought it sounded. Still, he found himself pleading with his eyes for her to understand everything he wasn't saying. Alex felt herself giving in.
"We don't know when I'll be able to go back," she pointed out.
"It doesn't matter." Alex let out a sigh.
"I'll stay for a while," she conceded. Bobby managed to hold in his happy smile.
"I'm going to have a shower." She smiled as she watched him leave, surprised he'd been so adamant about her staying with him. With a shrug, she continued with her mixing. After all, the least she could do for him then was cook breakfast.
It was Bobby's turn to be surprised when he emerged from the bathroom. The smells that were wafting through his apartment were making his mouth water. Alex had plates of pancakes on the table with all of the fixings. His mouth opened in awe at everything she'd done. It made him slightly guilty about having to make her talk to him. They ate in general silence but Alex could tell something was on Bobby's mind.
"Alex?" She couldn't help her smile at the use of her first name again.
"Yes, Bobby?"
"Are you… Do you remember anything about… a nightmare?" Alex sighed. When she woke up with her body cuddled against his a few things hadn't made sense. Slowly, her memory had returned in bits and pieces. Her mind vividly remembered her nightmare but the rest was pretty blurry.
"Bits and pieces," she answered honestly.
"Your nightmare?" It was a hesitant question and she could tell he only wanted to help. Still, she wasn't ready to discuss it.
"Can we not talk about it?" she pleaded. "Let's think about who we want to talk to first today." Bobby allowed Alex to drop the conversation but his eyes told her he intended to discuss it at some point. Hers held his answer.
Soon.
The person they decided to look into was a woman who had sent multiple letters only to the victim. Lisa Moss was a Manhattan native and hand applied for all three semesters they'd looked into. She lived with her parents, they'd found out, and had a rough plan of attack as they approached the house and knocked on the door. A young blonde woman answered.
"Lisa Moss?" Alex asked, presenting her badge.
"Yeah, what can I help you with?"
"We just have a few questions about your involvement in Art of Cuisine Culinary School."
"I've applied three times and gotten turned down each time," she answered, waving the detectives inside. As they took in the house, they noticed five children in front of a movie in the den. Thus, Lisa led them past to the kitchen.
"Sorry about all the kids. I baby-sit to make ends meet with my schooling. The culinary school would have been my breakthrough," she explained motioning them to take a seat. Alex and Bobby nodded in understanding.
"Your… letter," Bobby began, pulling it out in the evidence bag. "It was violent." Lisa sighed.
"I was upset about being turned down for the third time. I blew away each of the other judges except Mitchell. I just figured he had something against me personally and it hurt. I was angry."
"I understand but did it really require such a… visual letter?" Bobby asked, waving his hand as he searched for words.
"My dream is to go to culinary school and my parents and I don't really have enough money for me to go anywhere else. The threat was just words, I could never actually go through with it." Her eyes narrowed. "What is this about?"
"Where were you two nights ago?" Alex asked, avoiding her question.
"At home with both of my parents. We watched some action movie and went to bed. Why?"
"Do you own a gun?"
"My dad owns one. He's never felt safe without it."
"Can we see it?" Alex was pulling gloves out of her pocket before they'd even gotten an answer. Lisa lifted the gun box from on top of the shelf and pulled it open.
"It's gone!" she gasped, turning the empty box to the detectives. Alex took the box from the woman's shaking hands.
".38 calibre, a Smith and Wesson," she told her partner. "Who else has access to this?"
"My parents both know where it is and we hide it from the kids…"
"Did either of her parents ever mention that they were going to take it anywhere?" Bobby inquired. Lisa shook her head, her hand over her mouth in shock.
"I… don't… Oh my God."
"Miss Moss, we're going to need you to tell us everything about this gun and the people who know about it."
Lisa nodded.