Seeing Red – Part 6
A/N: Thanks for being my sounding board, Jackie. Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews.
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From the last part:
John swore under his breath and put his hands on her shoulder. "Is that why the photos yesterday freaked you out so much?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't remember. I had these dreams last night, but I don't know if they were because of what she said. The girl, she was blond. There was so much blood." All of a sudden Natalie jumped up and ran out of the office.
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John walked into the Ladies' Room partly hoping that no one but Natalie was in there, but pretty much not caring. He put the make up case he got out of her desk on the counter and looked underneath the stalls until he found the one she was in, still leaning over the porcelain god.
"You all right?" John knocked on the stall nervously.
"Geez, John. Go away." Natalie's strangled and impatient voice sounded, lessening John's concern, somewhat.
A moment later she stood up and opened the stall door and pushed past him to the sink. He dropped the bag in front of her as she splashed her face with water and drank it in from her cupped hands. He held out a wad of paper towels, which she took.
"Thanks," she mumbled and pulled out her toothbrush and toothpaste. "Can you wait outside now?"
"You okay?" he asked, running his hand down the back of her hair to her back.
She nodded and shooed him away.
John took a look around the room he'd never been in before leaving. He paced impatiently in front of the door until she came out. He handed her a bottle of water and took her into his arms. Instead of wiggling out of his arms as he expected, she wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on his chest.
"Are you ready to talk about it?" John asked.
"The blood, I just keep picturing the blood." Her voice hitched and she trembled in his arms. "Shit," she exclaimed, still feeling nauseous and shaky.
"Close your eyes. Picture the roof. The stars. The sunrise. Music playing in the background." John continued to speak in a soothing tune, replacing the images that were haunting her with relaxing, loving images.
"Thanks." Natalie sighed and reluctantly pulled out of his arms and looked around, embarrassed to find out who might have seen her weakness.
"Why don't you go back to my office and lie down on the couch for a bit. Take a powernap. I'll be there after I talk with Bo." John guided her there. He knew that she wouldn't go home, but her pallor and reaction still alarmed him a bit.
"I'm not going to be able to close my eyes," Natalie said as John plumped the one skimpy pillow his couch boasted. After she lay down he covered her with his full-length wool coat. He brushed her hair off her face and pressed the ghost of a kiss on her cheek. He closed the door behind him and went back into Bo's office.
Bo looked up when he came in and asked how his niece was.
"I've never seen her so spooked." John sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Do you think Roxy's telling tall tales?"
"I don't know, but I called her and got an approximate timeframe on the story so we could check it out." Bo held out a slip of paper to John who looked at it and then nodded at Bo and walked out.
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John put the phone down and looked over at Natalie who was asleep on the couch.
Roxy, it seemed, had gotten it right. It had been easy to track down the case, too easy. The records spanned the ACPD, the court clerk and CPS – Child Protective Services who had looked into Natalie's living arrangements since she had been out in the middle of the night at aged eleven witnessing murders.
He ran a hand over his face, he was feeling more tired than was warranted for only being up for two days. He dropped his hand and continued to study Natalie. He knew early on in their acquaintance that she had a core of steel, that her life hadn't been easy, but the more he got to know her and about her life he could only marvel at who she had become.
He got up and walked over to her, straightening the blanket he grabbed from the locker room over her shoulder. He softly smoothed her hair.
So many people with her beginning – a drunken gambler for a mother, no father, abused – ended up no better themselves, perpetuating the cycle with their own kids and romance with the bottle. But not Natalie. He quietly walked out and closed the door behind him and headed for the fax machine.
He didn't have all of the records yet – most of those were archived and required subpoenas, which he asked Hugh to work on. He also had a call into NJ Department of Corrections to find out the disposition of the case. But he'd gotten an old contact at the ACPD to send over the case cover sheet while the rest of the records were retrieved. It was there waiting and he picked up the sheets addressed to him and flipped through the pages. He did a double-take when he saw the name next to "Investigating Officer" – Peter Russo. He closed his eyes and recited the badge number from memory and said a silent prayer of thanks that it had been his father's former partner who had taken care of a young Natalie during this time.
Pete had been a good man and a good cop. He and his father had been a virtually unbeatable team when they walked the beat and later when they both got promoted to detective. He was also great with kids, which he could attest to as Pete had been there for him and Michael when his father had died. He took the cover sheet and went to see Bo and fill him in. He was sure Bo would be just as concerned that Natalie didn't remember what happened.
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"Do you think this is related to our case?" Bo asked, holding back his own thoughts to get John's fresh perspective.
"The murder weapon is the same and that's rare enough, but by no means enough to assume this the same guy who committed a crime thirteen years ago in Atlantic City. The victim was brutally stabbed and sliced, pre and post-mortem, but there were no definitive patterns or order that we've managed to match up yet. Back in AC this was a serial killer, we've only had one body. It's too soon to say."
"And I don't want to wait until we have more women killed on our watch to figure it out. I'm thinking it's related." Bo's face was grim.
"Could be a copycat?"
A knock sounded at the door, Bo looked up and waved whoever it was in.
"You all right?" Bo and John stood up as Natalie walked in.
"I feel fine, I didn't sleep well last night." She shrugged and walked over to them. Bo and John sat back down. "Do you need anything?"
"We do. Have a seat."
Natalie looked from Bo to John worriedly.
"Roxy's story checked out. We're still waiting for the case files, but it happened. You don't remember anything?" Bo asked.
Natalie shook her head and looked down at her hands.
"Why don't you take the rest of the day off," Bo offered.
"Absolutely not. I'm fine. I just got a little spooked. Too much coffee on an empty stomach. I'm going to go back to work now." Natalie took the files off the corner of Bo's desk and walked out.
"I'm going to assign a couple of detectives as a preliminary task force in case this escalates," John said and stood up.
"Good idea. I'm going to call Balsam and see if he can find out anything," Bo said.
John made a face and walked out.
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"Your order will be up in a few minutes."
"Thanks, Mac." Natalie sat down on a stool at the bar she used to work on. She was glad to be off her feet. Since her upset earlier in the day she had been on her feet trying to make up for lost time and, she admitted, drown out her swirling thoughts. How could she not remember seeing something like a dead body when she was a kid? But she'd seen it in black and white when she got copies of the reports off the Internet, transcriptions of her own words, the things she'd seen. It was disturbing, to say the least.
"Is this seat taken?"
Glad to be interrupted, Natalie turned towards the questioner. He was an older gentleman she had never seen there before. "No, go ahead." She waved at the empty stool.
"May I buy you a drink?" The words were measured, but Natalie could hear a slight accent she couldn't identify nonetheless.
"No thanks. I'm just waiting for a take out order," she said.
"Too bad. You are really quite lovely."
"Thank you." Natalie wasn't unused to strange men saying strange things to her in bars, but there was something a bit creepy about it coming from a man old enough to be her father. Especially since the flattering nature of the sentiment was not reflected in the hard dark eyes. She felt a knot forming in her stomach as he continued to stare at her; his pale lips were tilted in a smile that didn't seem too friendly.
"Maybe we'll meet again."
"Maybe." Natalie gratefully stood up and took the box Mac held out for her. She walked outside and paused as the door swung closed behind her. "You're just spooked because of the photos, Natalie Vega. Just spooked." She took a deep breath and headed back to the station.