20.

"Schell?" he said, looking around, seeing she was not in the vehicle. He paused, listening.

The deep boom of pounding surf met his ears and as he peered through the windshield, he could see they were the only car parked in a public lot near a driftwood strewn beach. It was utterly dark out, a thick cloud cover obscuring the night sky, and there was a stiff breeze blowing. He frowned, turning his wrist and poking the light on his watch to read the time.

It was a little after three in the morning. Where the hell where they?

He popped the door open, sucking in a deep breath at the chill in the air, and groaned as his stiff side protested at moving. He stood up, looking around and not seeing Schell anywhere.

All he could hear was the sound of wind and surf, and judging from how far off the waves sounded, he knew it had to be low tide. He shut the door gently, listening carefully before moving out in front of the car to a break in the driftwood and sand indicating a path. Wrapping his overcoat about him, he made his way onto the beach proper.

Finding her in the dark presented no problem. Schell's unusual hair being the giveaway. She stood a considerable way down the beach, near something dark and macabre that was looming up out of the sand. He hunched into his coat, mindful of the chill and the ache in his side, and listened to the squeak and crunch of the sand under his feet as he made his way over the dryer sand to more firm footing closer to the water line.

He watched her as he approached, she was simply standing there, the wind blowing her white hair about and she was just staring out at the sea. His eyes already adjusted to the dark, he realized as he came nearer, that the strange objects looming out of the sand before her were the skeletal remains of a very old shipwreck. Schell was standing near what was left of the bow, now just a heavily oxidized network of rusty iron soaring up at a precarious angle above her head..

Approaching her, he looked at her in concern. She glanced at him and a soft, serene smile drifted across her lips. Despite having buttoned up her own overcoat and having shoved her hands into the pockets, she was shivering from the cold.

"Hey…" she said as he walked up.

He paused before he spoke, still looking at her with some concern. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

Schell ducked her head a moment, then looked back at him shyly. "Just thinking," she said. "That's all."

He lifted his chin a moment, his head tilting a little as he studied her tired features.

"I kept driving down the coast…" she explained to him. "Just followed 101. You were sound asleep and I didn't want to wake you, so I just kept driving. I crossed over the border into Oregon at Astoria and kept on going until I saw the signs for Ft. Stevens. So I drove over here." She shook a hand loose of her pocket and flipped her hair out of her eyes. "I didn't alarm you, did I?" she asked.

"Umm, no," he said, tucking his chin in and smiling, "No, you didn't."

"Your side? Is it all right?" She asked, searching his face.

"Yeah," he looked at her, his eyes warm and friendly. He noted her concern for him and sensed something of a change in her. "It's fine. What about you?"

"I'm…" she paused and looked away from him at the wreckage before her. "I don't know," she shrugged.

He watched her some more, seeing a far-off look in her eyes. "What is this, Schell?" he asked softly.

"This?" she echoed distantly. "This is what's left of the Peter Iredale."

Horatio, still studying her, finally put his finger on what it was that puzzled him. She was beyond exhausted, at a stage where sleep was escaping her despite being so tired. She was, for lack of better wording, literally running on fumes. Yet there was an odd sense of peace about her as she stared at the wreckage.

"The Iredale?" he prompted.

"Yeah, she was a beautiful four-mast barque. She wrecked…" Schell paused a long while, blinking slowly and thinking a moment, "She wrecked almost a hundred years ago. In 1906." Looking at him again, she smiled softly. "This is one of the few wrecks left that you can see…" her voice trailed off as she looked back at the wreckage.

"Schell…" he said gently, reaching up to set his hand on her cheek.

As he was about to speak, she leaned her face into his warm hand, closed her eyes and murmured, "I kinda know what it feels like, now; being shipwrecked, seems everything I've been trying to accomplish has hit the rocks."

Horatio smiled tenderly, shook free his other hand, and cupped her face in them both. "You know what?" he said as she opened her eyes, "We're both tired and it's been a very long day, let's go some place warm, all right?" He looked at her expectantly.

"Okay…" she said softly. He nodded with satisfaction, slipped his arm over her shoulder and drew her close, turning her away from the wreckage. They lapsed into a companionable silence and as they approached the path back to the parking lot, Schell paused, turning her head to look back at the old shipwreck. She reached up to move the hair out of her face.

He watched her, her face looking pensive and sad as she gazed at the wreck, then she sighed and looked at him.

"You must think I am nuts, coming out here…" she murmured, looking down , still trying to pull white strands of hair from her eyes.

"No…" he murmured back, smiling, "Not at all. We all seek absolution in the strangest places." Schell was too tired to notice a deep gulf of inner pain in his eyes as he watched her.

"I've put you through so much this past week…" she said softly. "And you have seen me at my worst." She sighed wearily, remorse on her face. "You've seen me in something I have never been involved with, before, and I do not know how to handle it."

He looked down a moment, a soft, gentle smile on his lips. "But that's what friends are for…." he said quietly. "To help when the other one can't help themselves," He looked at her, reaching up to set his hand at the back of her neck. "And you," he studied her face and the white wisps of hair that drifted about in the stiff breeze. "You have already done the right thing in admitting that you can't handle it alone, that's half the battle right there. So…" he gave her a tender smile. "So that's where I come in. You haven't put me through anything I haven't been in before, and I also volunteered to help."

"Damn fool…" she murmured and smiled.

Horatio suddenly chuckled, his teeth flashing white in a boyish, lopsided grin.

"You know…" she said, looking askance at him. "You really do have a nice smile."

That caught him unawares, he blinked in surprise and looked at her with a tiny frown between his eyes. Schell began to softly snicker in amusement. Hearing her, he suddenly looked away, a wry smile curling his lips as he shook his head.

"I think someone's asleep on their feet," he murmured as he dropped his hand, catching her own in his and stuck both into his overcoat pocket. "Come on," he said, before leading her back to the car.

"You should see the look on your face," she replied, gentle mirth in her voice.

"Hmmm," he murmured, walking up to the passenger side. "I think you need to surrender the keys…" he held out his other hand. He smirked at her in amusement, his eyes twinkling mischief.

Schell began to laugh as she fumbled in her pocket for the keys to the car. "Yes, Lieutenant…" She set them in his hand, and as he let her into the car, he chuckled.

It was a losing battle for Schell, trying to stay awake in the warm car, and by the time they reached Astoria, she had almost completely nodded off. Tempting though it was, knowing by now that Seattle was only 4-5 hours north on I-5, he decided against trying to drive it and found a Holiday Inn Express where he booked one of the more expensive suites, two queen sized beds, and put her in one. She was gone in seconds.

Horatio, however, sat on the edge of the second bed, his arms resting on his knees as he silently toyed with the key card for the room, lost in his thoughts. Occasionally, he would look up and watch Schell as she slept, noticing the fatigue etched into her face and hating that she had had to go through what she was facing. He smiled slightly to himself, thinking again for the hundredth time that if he could just help protect her from some of that --and what was to come-- he'd have done his job.

There were aspects of the investigation that still needed to be answered, but for the most part, Seattle had a damn good case against Randall Thorpe. At least in the area of the explosion on Schell's rental boat. It was just a matter of time before the majority of pieces to the puzzle were put together. As to what had happened to Paul Hirsch and Joe Miller in the warehouse, there were still some gaping holes, but he was more interested in those parts that concerned Schell.

Far in the back of his thoughts he still wondered about the .22 caliber rounds that had been used during the shooting at the studio. No doubt, he mused, feeling how tired he was, they would get explained shortly. He stood up a little, setting the card aside, wincing at the pain in his side, and flipped back the covers of the other bed before slipping under them. He let out a long sigh, reaching up to run a hand down his face before draping his arm over his eyes. Feeling his weariness and aches and pains, he let himself swim in the luxurious feeling of stretching out flat in a warm bed and closing his eyes…

Like Schell, he didn't last very long.