8.
Once her door clicked shut, Horatio sat back in the chair and began to look about the salon of the yacht. The interior was spotless and neatly arranged, though sparse in personal items. He had noted earlier in the bunks built into the bow of the vessel several boxes that had been packed and sealed. There was a sense of peace about the room and a soft essence that spoke of femininity. He looked up at the glass-fronted cabinet before him holding several books, some CDs and sketchbooks. He was mildly curious to note her taste in music was almost all classical. His attention was caught by the picture of Schell hugging a very tall older man as they both looked at the camera and smiled. There was nothing amiss here, just a woman, living alone on a yacht and beginning preparations to move. He smiled to himself, aware that he was feeling relaxed --something rare for him-- and turned his attention to the computer.
It was some thirty minutes before she emerged from the master bedroom, glancing cautiously at the nav station where he still sat, the long fingers of his right hand lightly manipulating the mouse pad. A cup of coffee sat steaming next to him. He glanced up, seeing she had changed into a sage green jumper dress, a very pale pink blouse, and was toweling dry her hair. She still looked overly tired, but now she appeared altogether refreshed.
"Better?" he asked glancing back at the screen.
"Much," she sighed. "I think I slept three minutes in the last few days. Between doctors, nurses, that Beckman and a few other cops, I definitely felt the need for that shower and a change of clothes."
"I apologize for adding to that," he murmured, looking her way again as she made her way straight to the coffeepot. He caught the scent of flowers, very subdued, on her as she passed him. Idly, his mind noted the fragrance was a white flower blend; magnolia, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley…
"Oh no! I didn't mean you," she exclaimed softly. "I think of all that's happened you've been the only pleasant thing to occur."
"I'll take that as a compliment," he said smiling to himself and listening to the clink of glass on porcelain as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Need a refill?" she asked.
"I wouldn't mind," he replied. She filled the cup with one hand and ran her fingers through her hair with the other, scrunching and teasing it into place.
"What is that?" she asked, glancing at the site he was on over his shoulder.
"Just touching base at home," he said. "Just because the cat's away doesn't mean the mice can play."
"Miami-Dade Crime Lab?" she asked.
"Uh huh…" he said. He was aware she was looking at him speculatively and he glanced at her as she wrapped her fingers around her cup and moved over to look out her port side kitchen window.
"Ready to go eat?" he asked.
She looked at him, smiled and nodded. "Looking to see if it's gonna rain on us."
"You do have the reputation for that here," he commented, his lips curling slightly in an impish grin.
"Ah but what we don't tell the rest of the country is that it only rains in the morning, the rest of the day is gorgeous."
"So that's the secret."
"Just don't tell anyone around here I told ya, we've got too many Californians up here. Myself included."
"You mentioned Santa Rosa…" he said turning back to the computer, beginning to log off.
"Yeah, my Mom and the pissy little redheads are down there. But its not really home. I was actually born here. Came back here about two years ago. Gotta be near the sea," she said, smiling and moving past him to a hall closet where she pulled out a sweater. He shut down her laptop and rose.
"You're going to find Miami has plenty of that."
"That's a fact," she said as she began to slip on her sweater. He smiled, tucked his chin in a little and reached over to help her.
"Thank you…" she murmured, pulling her hair free. "You keep this up you're going to spoil me."
"How's that?" he asked, opening the door to the cabin and allowing her to walk ahead of him.
"Doesn't the South have a reputation about southern gentlemen?" She asked as he followed her out. She didn't see him smile in soft amusement as she turned to lock the door.
"That depends on the gentleman…" he said. Schell smiled, looking up at him.
"I could get very used to being treated this way," she said with an arched brow, then softly chuckled as she stepped onto the dock.
Horatio just smiled in returned, saying nothing as he tugged his sunglasses free, unfolding the earpieces. Slipping them on, he thoughtfully mused to himself that he wouldn't mind letting her.
Breakfast was more then either had expected, turning out to be well worth the visit and allowed Horatio the chance to just sit still for a while, and enjoy someone's company. Their talk was light, never delving too far past the surface, and he found he enjoyed listening to Schell's light banter. There was a keen intelligence about her, and a good sense of humour and she revealed that she had earned her arts degree from the Brandywine institute in Delaware which included an internship at an exclusive British Art school. That hour over breakfast she learned a little about him, how he had a bachelor's in Chemistry and had joined the police force as soon as he was able. He'd gotten bored, moved on into forensics, and spent time on the bomb squad before being offered the leadership of the Miami-Dade Crime Scene Investigation unit.
Getting ready to leave, Horatio had opened the car door for her and was just clicking it shut when his cell phone went off. Walking around the car, he fished it out of his pocket, flipped it open and paused by his door.
"Horatio Caine."
"This is Beckman." Came the surly detective's growl. Horatio's brows rose as he tilted his head up, staring off into the distance and wondering how Beckman had gotten his cell number. Holding the phone to his ear, his other hand slipped to his hip in an unconscious, habitual gesture.
"Beckman." Horatio said carefully. "What can I do for you?"
"Where is Schell Demereau?" Beckman started.
"Why would you think I would know?"
"Well you do have a vested interest in her, Southern. I want to talk to her." Beckman demanded.
"About?" Horatio asked, starting to look towards where she was buckling herself into her seat, and pausing instead to watch boat traffic in nearby Ballard Locks.
"Paul Hirsch's wife just filed a missing person report on her husband." Beckman snapped.
"And what would Miss Demereau know about that?"
"That's what I would like to find out."
"When was he last seen?" Horatio asked.
"Exiting the Ferry when you guys finally got back into port." Beckman growled.
"Meaning both I and Miss Demereau where otherwise occupied, as is certainly well documented and if you had bothered checking with the hospital she wasn't released until this morning. Which leads me back to the question, how would Schell Demereau know anything about his disappearance?"
"Well now that's something I would like to ask her." Beckman sneered over the phone.
"Tell you what, since you keep implying that I have a vested interest, how about I ask her and tell you all about it later? Hmmm?"
"I don't need you to go about doing my…" Beckman started.
"Somebody needs to do the job right." Horatio replied coldly. "And the way you're going, I'm beginning to believe there's a need for charm school. By the way…" he smirked at no one in particular. "Have a nice day." Then he snapped his cell phone shut, looked at it a moment, and then switched the ringer to vibrate, before he slipped it away and climbed into his car.
"Duty calling?" Schell asked, none the wiser.
"Not particularly," he said as he started the car.
For the few moments it took to drive back to the marina, Horatio was silent and Schell, sensing something was up, reluctantly realized that this was probably going to be the last time she would see him. For some reason the thought saddened her and she braced herself, hiding behind that shield she had so long ago built to protect herself from disappointments.
Still the gentleman he opened her door for her, looking thoughtful and even began walking back with her towards the dock, pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them away as they walked. At the stairs she stopped, looking a little awkward.
"You don't need to go all the way to the boat," she said. He stopped, frowning slightly and looked at her. Smiling, he could have sworn with despair, she added. "You've been so very nice to me, and there is no way I can ever repay you for all that you've done."
"Have I made that impression?" he asked gently. Schell blushed and looked at her toes.
"No, never..." she smiled shyly. "I'm just trying to be realistic in the face of some rather unrealistic events that have cropped up in my life. You are going to go your way, and I mine. And I just want to remember it as something really nice."
"Ah…" he said with a soft smile as he nodded understanding. "I see…"
"I mean…" she started. He looked her in the eyes.
"Schell," he said gently. "This is not what you think."
Her reaction, the preparing of herself for disappointment, and the look of regret in her eyes momentarily caught Horatio completely unawares. As it struck him, a very soft tender smile touched his lips. Of course, he thought to himself, her response was perfectly natural to one accustomed to let downs. It was such a logical and natural assumption that for him (so long accustomed to the unnatural reactions of people involved in crimes that it was his job to solve) he nearly missed seeing it in her. As he studied her for those few precious seconds he reached up and set his hand gently against her cheek, so subtle and intimate a gesture that it caused her eyes to widen slightly and her brows to begin knitting in confusion while she looked back at him. How long, he wondered idly, had it been since someone, anyone, had seen him in any other light than that of a policeman?
Yet as he gazed the aching sadness that he was about to shatter her entire world crept into his eyes, echoed by the slightest caress of his thumb against her soft skin. That haunting pain that was his life, his past, and an unavoidable part of his job began to age him beyond his years.
She saw it then, the frown increasing on her face and she could sense that he was about to tell her something dreadful.
"Horatio…?" she whispered.
"It's not what you think…" he repeated softly, as he steeled himself for what he had to do. He slipped his hand to her shoulder, squeezing reassurance as he struggled for the words, looking anywhere but at her dark blue eyes.
She laughed nervously, "That you're going to say hey, its been nice, I like you as a friend but I'm going home and probably won't ever see you again? It's all right you know. It's happened --God knows-- enough times in my life that I have trademark on it!" She tried hiding behind her humour. "It's all right you know. I hardly know you," she added, trying to smile.
"Schell," he said gently. "Listen to me…" he forced himself to look at the pain in her eyes, as she still attempted to hide behind her light armor of mirth. "Please," he added.
She looked back at him, seeing such a gamut of emotions play in his eyes and face until he finally glanced down, regained himself and looked back at her. Blank faced she searched his eyes.
"Paul Hirsch has been reported missing," he said carefully.
What she did next came as no surprise to him. As the colour drained from her face he could see the realization hit her that he knew about her activities. Shock, disbelief, and the beginning of terror began to well up inside of her and Horatio was reading it like an open book.
"Wh-- What?" she stammered, breaking her gaze, unable to look at his own pain any longer.
"His wife filed a missing person's report this morning."
"Was that the phone…" she started, not noticing that she was beginning to shake.
"That was what the phone call was about," he confirmed.
"But…" she started, looked confused and ran her hand through her white hair. She glanced away out over the marina. Horatio reached down and gently took both her hands in his, forcing her attention back on him.
"It is imperative," he said gently, "That you tell me everything you know and have been doing for Paul Hirsch. Ah, Ah…" he cautioned and raised one finger to stop her from speaking. "It's critical, Schell. Because the threat against you is far worse than you realize. Paul Hirsch was on board that chartered ferry with us the other day. Somehow or another you and he have been compromised and I fear that he is probably dead as we speak."
She stared at him then, her head slowly shaking denial as her eyes told him that she realized that what he was saying was true.
"He was on the ferry?" she asked.
Horatio nodded.
"Then," she started to speak and couldn't as realization caused her blood to run cold.
"That's right. Whoever put the bomb on your boat knew you would be out sailing that day and knew that Hirsch would be on the ferry. I saw the bomb, it was crude but effective, what worries me is that the switch interrupting the fuel line had a GPS responder on it. That means whoever this person is doesn't care how many people get killed so long as he takes out Hirsch and you. But," Horatio paused forcing her attention again. "This person has made a mistake. They set the bomb off too soon and both of his intended victims survived. So they have fallen to a backup plan. And now Paul Hirsch is missing, which also means,"
"I'm next…" she interrupted in so small a voice, that he frowned slightly, making sure he heard her.
She stared up at him, her hands still gripped by his. "What am I going to do?" She asked beseechingly.
"You let me handle it." He said, letting her hands go and pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her as he folded her in close, one hand rubbing her back the other holding her head. "I would prefer you go stay with friends, or better still go to Santa Rosa to your mom and the pissy little redheaded cousins, but I know you won't do that so I have a suggestion?" he murmured.
"What?" she asked, curling her hands in close to her as she laid her head against his chest. The sense of unreality was beginning to overwhelm her.
"Either you come and stay at the hotel with me. Or, barring that, you let me use the forward bunk in the yacht. In any case, you shouldn't be alone and if I am going to help you, I don't want you out of my sight."