Chapter 6

Without You

Intro Song: Here Without You, Three Doors Down

The downtown Los Angeles skyline, even with its high rises and often undesirable air quality, was nonetheless spectacular, especially in the early morning. Ben Talbot, who was otherwise preoccupied with the day's pending meetings and other assorted fun and games, allowed himself a moment to be lost in the splendor. Staring out his office window, he sipped his first cup of coffee, getting a much-needed shot of caffeine as he mentally prepared for the day's events. The wing of the District Attorney's offices that housed his own was quiet. He was, as far as he knew, the floor's lone occupant.

The sudden, unexpected shuffling of papers interrupted Talbot's thoughts. Startled, he spun around, relaxing when he saw the familiar image of his administrative assistant walking into his office, her hands filled with envelopes and papers.

"Good morning, Ms. Sommers," he greeted her, turning from the window. "Nice to see I'm not the only one in this early."

Jamie Sommers froze momentarily. She had not expected anyone to be on the floor at this hour. "I'm sorry, Mr. Talbot. You're usually not in at this time," she stated truthfully.

"Please, call me Ben." Talbot smiled at the young woman. Though Jamie had only been on board for a few weeks, he was, so far, impressed with her apparent work ethic and dedication.

"Only if you call me Jamie," she responded primly. Glancing at the wall clock, she reminded Talbot of his first appointment. "Mr. Tal – Ben, you have a meeting with Lieutenant Carl Davis at 7:30. Will you hold that in here or in the conference room?"

Ben considered the option. "I'll use the conference room, thank you, Jamie."

"Well, it's almost 7:30 right now. I'll get the meeting calendar updated so the room is ready for you. I've learned already that there are few things that annoy the attorneys or secretaries here more than not knowing which rooms are booked."

Talbot nodded. "That would be much appreciated. Thank you again for handling this for me."

As she was about to leave, Jamie realized that she was still carrying mail for the assistant district attorney. She turned back and handed him an interoffice pouch and three blue–backed documents. "For you… Ben." She smiled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get your meeting set up."

Jamie did not wait for a response from the ADA; she almost ran back to her desk. Mentally, she noted, always have a good excuse for getting in early. This is the DA's office and you don't want to raise suspicions. She quickly opened her computer and started making entries as a visitor made his way to her desk.

"Carl Davis to see Ben Talbot, please."

The young admin adjusted her glasses and looked up from her computer screen. "Ah, good morning, Lieutenant Davis. You will be meeting with Mr. Talbot in Conference Room D." She rose from her seat and walked around her desk to give the detective a proper greeting. "I'm Jamie Sommers, by the way, the administrative assistant for the deputy and assistant district attorneys." She introduced herself, extending her hand.

Carl gently shook her hand and held onto it for a long moment, studying the young woman closely. "You're new. I don't recall seeing you before – and I'm sure I'd remember."

She smiled. "You're very sweet. I've just been here a few weeks, actually," Jamie was struck by his calm but intense demeanor. His large, dark brown eyes, which she was sure missed little, were especially unnerving. Velvet. His eyes look like velvet. Suddenly realizing that she was still holding his hand, Jamie released her grip and pulled away slightly, blushing. "If you will follow me, please, detective," she said, moving from her station toward a nearby hallway.

Davis complied, silently trailing the young woman, although he knew his way around this office without an escort. Studying her from his vantage point behind her, he mentally cataloged her characteristics – roughly a head shorter than he, creamy tan complexion, medium build, with a shock of dark brown, curly hair and large brown eyes without even the hint of a wrinkle around them in what his grandmother would describe as a 'sweet face'.

Carl estimated that she was somewhere in her late-twenties. Her eyeglasses were utilitarian and not particularly stylish, odd considering most women in her age bracket would pay close attention to a detail like that – especially a pretty one like Jamie Sommers. There was also a soft Southern drawl underlining her speech, though he couldn't place the exact region.

"Where are you from?" he blurted out, curious in spite of himself.

"I'm sorry?" Jamie threw the detective a puzzled glance over her shoulder without breaking stride as she made her way down the corridor.

"I couldn't help but notice your accent," he admitted, inwardly chastising himself for being so blunt. What worked well in the field sometimes wasn't suited for normal interactions with regular people.

"Nawlens, dawlin'!" She dazzled the lieutenant with a wide, bright smile that lit up her face as she replied in a hyper–accented version of her native Louisiana dialect.

Carl couldn't help but laugh at the outburst. Now that he hadn't expected.

"Here we are," Jamie announced, opening the door to the small conference room. "I'll get Mr. Talbot for you. Would you like any coffee or tea?

Normally, he'd prefer to get his own. But today... "Um... coffee would be great, if it's not too much trouble."

"Okay, I'll be right back with coffee and Talbot." Jamie hurried away, flashing a brilliant smile at the detective.

True to her word, within five minutes, the young woman returned with a carafe of coffee, two mugs - and the ADA in tow. "Is there anything else you gentlemen need from me?"

"No thank you, Jamie." Talbot deposited his stack of files on the table as he spoke.

The young woman nodded and slipped out of the conference room, closing the door behind her. As she did, she caught a last glimpse of Talbot's assorted documents, and Carl Davis' unnerving brown eyes following her movements. Boy, I wish I could be a fly on that wall.

"Good morning, Carl," Ben started. "Let's get to it, why don't we?"

"Yeah, you sounded pretty eager to talk today." Davis took his time pouring his coffee. He did not intent to be ordered around by Ben Talbot, not even when it came to starting this meeting. "So, what's up? I thought the Monaghan investigation was considered a done deal at this point."

"Tell me about your experience with Mick St. John. How long have you known or worked with him?"

Carl was brought up short by the unexpected question, but curious as to why the ADA wanted to discuss St. John. What's this about? He gathered his thoughts carefully. "Let's see... I'd heard his name off and on throughout the detective unit since I've been here, but the buzz really got heavy with the so–called vampire murders – the ones involving a psycho graduate teaching assistant who was murdering female students that Professor Ellis was sleeping with. Then, there was that other case – where we had bodies drained of blood... and the escort murders... oh, and the Black Crystal drug episode... we raided a club and found Mick there with Beth Turner..." The detective's eyes narrowed and he stopped himself. "But these are all cases of record, Ben. You can read the files. You didn't call me in for a rehash, I know."

The ADA waved his hand dismissively. "You know me better than that, Carl. What I really want is more information on this guy as a person. What's your take on him?"

Taking his seat, and a sip from his mug, Davis gave the matter some thought. "Well," he began cautiously, "When I first met him, he struck me as the assured, cocky type, like most P.I.s I've met, I suppose."

Carl took another swig of coffee as he mentally thumbed through memories of his numerous encounters with St. John. "But he has a solid reputation as a first–rate investigator, very intuitive. Josh Lindsay had a lot of confidence in his abilities, especially after St. John recovered his runaway witness for the arms dealer trial – Leni Hayes, that was her name. Josh told me that Mick risked his life protecting this witness – they both almost died when the car they were in was attacked and exploded. Her testimony helped put Fayed away. That kinda sold me."

The detective fell silent again and shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. He paused, seeming to consider whether to say more, then finally added, "St. John also proved himself during the Tejada drug cartel case, when he protected Beth after that psychopath put a hit out on her because Josh was the prosecutor. Actually saved her from taking a bullet to the head, or at least that's how Beth described it."

He stared pointedly at the ADA. "Ben, the man hauled ass like a bat out of hell after Tejada's crew kidnapped Josh in front of Beth's place – I've never seen a guy run so fast. He'd damn near caught up with the car before Beth got to him in Josh's car and they took off after them. I lost a good cop that day," Carl added, remembering the young officer who'd been gunned down on the porch of the house where Beth had an apartment by the thugs during the melee.

"And a great attorney, too, don't forget." Ben frowned at the detective.

That last statement caused Carl to bristle. "No one remembers that better than I do. I worked with Josh. I was there when the man died, not you." Pausing to get himself under control - deep breaths, Davis - he continued in a calmer voice. "Mick St. John went above and beyond anything I've ever witnessed, trying to save Josh's life. The paramedics were amazed. To this day, they still talk about it. Said that he should have received a commendation."

He paused. "I asked Beth later how he learned to do all that. She said he was a medic in the war, but that he doesn't like to talk about it. Hey, I get that. I have buddies who served in Iraq, and they don't like to talk about it either. I'll tell you what, though, I never saw a field medic do the kind of work he did with Josh. If it would've been possible to save him, he'd have done it."

Then and there, Carl Davis had changed his opinion about Mick St. John – but for now, he'd keep that to himself. The detective eyed the ADA suspiciously and voiced the question in his mind. "What's this about, Ben?"

Wordlessly, Talbot pulled out a large, red case file clearly marked MICK ST. JOHN and passed it to the lieutenant. "I inherited this from Josh," he responded simply. "I've been building on it since I've been here. Take a look – there's some interesting stuff inside."

Hesitantly, Carl opened the file, and was immediately transfixed by photographs that left him flummoxed. "What... what the hell? Is this St. John being struck by a car?! And..this can't be right... he just gets up right afterward..."

"...with Beth's help," Ben Talbot coolly pointed out.

The detective didn't know what to think - Ben's inquiries about the P.I., the related case file, the pictures... He rifled through the paperwork quickly, pausing here and there to read a more detailed comment. Finally, he looked up, his dark eyes puzzled. "I'm sorry, Ben, I don't get this," Carl admitted. "What is all this? And why did you call me here? And don't tell me it was just to play Twenty Questions, the Mick St. John edition."

Talbot took a breath as if to speak, but shook his head and remained silent.

Davis had had enough. "Look," Carl growled in a no–nonsense tone, "if you don't come clean with me, I'm leaving. I have work to do, and no time for...this." He raised the handful of photos. "You and I both know that still photographs won't necessarily show you a clear picture of what happened in a situation like this. "Mick could just as easily have just been brushed by the car – or slid over the top and not really been hit at all. Or he could have been on the ground for a long time. You just can't tell from these. What the hell are you after here?" He stopped just short of calling all this exactly what his gut was telling him it was – a witch hunt. Not that he was a member of the Mick St. John fan club, but there was something inherently underhanded about this whole situation that he did not at all like. "Why don't you just ask the man about this directly?"

"I have my reasons."

"With all due respect, maybe you'd better share those reasons then," Carl said quietly. He was mindful of Talbot's position, and the political realities that came along with the office, but, dammit, he had every right to know what the ADA appeared trying to pull him into.

Talbot weighed his words. "Mick St. John caused my friend a lot of...difficulty." He exhaled sharply. "Josh and I were friends, from years back. College buddies, in fact. But you know how that goes. You graduate, go your own way... we kept in touch off and on, mostly through emails these days."

The attorney took a quick gulp of coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste. "Anyway, a couple of months or so ago, Josh and I met up again at a legal conference on state initiatives in Sacramento. And, as old friends do, we started catching up. That's when Josh told me he'd found the woman he wanted to marry. Beth Turner. Showed me a picture of them together. They looked happy in the photo - but the man in front of me sure wasn't. He said that they'd just celebrated a year together. And, that he was afraid he was losing her... to her new 'private investigator buddy'."

Carl nodded with recognition, recalling the times he'd seen Beth together with St. John as well. Even though he'd never seen either act on it while Beth was with Josh, the chemistry and heat between them was obvious for all to see. Despite his uneasiness, he was growing increasingly curious with where this seemed to be headed.

"Well, a few beers in, Josh gave me the run down. Beth's first broadcast at BuzzWire was the co–ed 'vampire' murders. That was when she met St. John... and then he saved her from the killer. Josh was grateful, of course, and he could understand Beth's sense of gratitude. She'd have likely been murdered if Mick hadn't been around. But Josh said he could see that there was a lot more there. The looks they gave each other, the way they acted, Mick always showing up at Beth's apartment or with her, Beth's growing distraction and distance..."

I told her threesomes never end well. "So, let me get this straight. You're digging into a man's life because her boyfriend was jealous?!"

"No," Ben denied curtly. "Actually, Josh did. He'd already started a file because it was part of his due diligence to check St. John out, since he retained him to work on the Leni Hayes case. I just suggested to him that he could be a little more diligent than usual. You know, background checks and so forth – all perfectly legal."

Oh, I'm sure it was, Carl thought sarcastically. "And what did he find?"

"That's the point, Carl. Josh did a full ten–year search and didn't even find a parking ticket."

"A lot of people are like that, Ben."

"But it's too perfect, especially for a private investigator... no irregularities in records, everything lined up... you and I both know that's not how it works in the real world. Even his name – I mean, not a Michael, or Micky – we see those gaffes all the time. It struck me as wrong then, and it still does now. It didn't sit well with Josh, either. He called me a week or so before he died, and left me a message, telling me that he wanted to meet up soon to talk about St. John – but I never got a chance to speak with him again."

Ben stopped, shifting uncomfortably in his chair, gaining time by taking another gulp of coffee before resuming. "I didn't even find out that he'd died until the day of the funeral. I felt terrible about it. So, when I heard about the opening with the DA's office here, I transferred. It looks good on a resume to work for a city this large and I was ready for a change anyway. And... I can finish what Josh started."

"What do you mean 'finish'? What's left? Josh is dead –"

" – because of the Tejada case!" Talbot interrupted. He leaned over his desk toward the detective. "And that fugitive is still at large. Wasn't that your investigation?" Angrily, he yanked opened another one of the files on the table. "According to this report, Mick St. John interrogated one of Josh's kidnappers. When he was done, he told you that Tejada was at the Compost Bar in Boyle Heights. Was he?" Talbot knew the answer.

Carl shook his head. "No. But that doesn't prove anything – the creep probably just lied to St. John. I wasn't in the room with him, I was just watching through the glass."

"Which is a topic for another time all by itself." Ben reached for another case file. "But for now, let's keep going. Let's look at the Escort Murders. Here, it says that you surprised St. John and Beth Turner as they entered the suspect's residence. And I know Beth and Mick rescued an escort from the killer but he got away. Did anyone ever apprehend the killer? Hear any more about him?"

"No." Carl shifted uneasily. "But we have tons of open cases."

"Going back a little further..." Another file flipped open. "The strange serial murders that happened in Downtown a while ago. You know, the ones where, as it says here, the victims were completely drained of blood, throats chewed out... ever find that guy?"

"No, but –"

"And wasn't that another of Beth's reports? Tell me something – was Mick St. John anywhere on or near the scene?"

Carl nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah." His grandmother had a saying, once is an accident, twice is a habit. Grudgingly, he had to admit Talbot might have a point in looking more closely at the private investigator.

Ben noted the almost imperceptible change in Carl's attitude, and thought to himself, smugly, I knew I could reel you in… He was an experienced fisherman though – and he knew he hadn't landed his catch yet. He'd have to proceed carefully to get him on–board. "Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that St. John is responsible for these things. I trust your instincts about him. It's just that there is a level of weird about this guy that I can feel. You weren't there when –"

The ADA again hesitated, not sure if he even wanted to talk about the case he'd been involved in... but he forced himself to go on. Carl needed to understand just why he felt so uneasy about this guy.

"There was the Doughnut Diet Queen case, the one that lead us to the shady plastic surgeon, Pierce Anders. When the three of us – St. John, Beth and I – showed up to confront this guy, he went insane. He knocked Beth and me unconscious. I found out later he threw St. John through a glass table and really messed him up. When Beth and I woke up, we were blindfolded, hogtied - I mean, helpless. I was sure no one knew where we were. I thought we were going to die." Talbot swallowed hard at the memory. "But somehow, St. John, and some friend of his, saved us. Even though I couldn't see what was happening, I sure as hell heard it."

Talbot did not want to go into any more detail – not about the sounds of the ensuing fight with St. John and who knows how many other participants. He'd never forget those loud, feral noises, like animals battling. He'd never spoken to anyone about it; given the head injury he sustained during that incident, who would believe him? Hell, he wasn't even sure himself about what'd happened. But what he did know was that he hated unanswered questions, unsolved mysteries, or feeling helpless – and Mick St. John was a source for all three.

"I'm not trying to sway your opinion of the man, Carl. I only want you to keep an open mind."

"So, St. John saved your ass and you want to, what? Pry into his life? Arrest him for something because you have a few questions?

"No!" Talbot almost shouted in frustration. "I just want to know what's going on with him. You're a good detective – you have to see that there's some odd stuff happening around him. I'd just like you to…"

"What?! What do you want from me?" I don't trust this guy any further than I can throw him.

"Try to get close to him. Let me know what you find out."

The lieutenant fought back a laugh – only a desk jockey, with no real street smarts or experience, would think it'd be that easy. A private investigator worth the sign on his door could see through such a thin subterfuge, and Mick St. John was no fool. He was smart, sharp, and quick. Plus, many of his own prior experiences with the investigator weren't exactly warm and fuzzy, making any attempt at getting close to him that much more difficult. Still, the case files, and the history of St. John's involvement, bore closer scrutiny. Those pictures of him walking away from what should have been a serious hit–and–run could not be ignored so easily after Talbot's recitation.

"What about Beth?" Carl asked, thinking out loud. "She and Mick have gotten pretty tight from what I can see. They've been through a helluva lot together."

Ben considered his lovely civilian investigator. He got the distinct impression that Beth and Mick were involved – nothing he'd seen overtly, just hints - little things, plus their annoying tendency to be "joined at the hip" as he'd called it. She seemed to be obeying his order to keep Mick St. John away from his cases, though – he hadn't seen any sign of the private investigator at the Monaghan home. Still...

"Don't say anything to her about our talk. For now, this is on a need-to-know only basis - and we're the only ones who need to know."

"Good morning, Mr. Talbot's office, may I help you?"

Answering the departmental phones was not part of Jamie's defined responsibilities. However, the unit secretary didn't arrive until after eight, so she manned the phones as a courtesy. Besides, this helped her to become familiar with the major players and ingratiate herself further with office staff. Who knows when a contact would prove useful?

"... just let me know what you find out about St. John. Don't worry about Beth."

Jamie looked up just in time to see Talbot and Davis as she was about to take a message from the caller. "One moment, please. Mr. Talbot has just returned from his meeting." She looked up from her desk. "Ben, I have Judge Howard's office holding for you. Do you want to take this in your office, or here?"

"I'll take it here. Thanks, Jamie," Ben responded.

"Would you like me to put your files on your desk?" she offered helpfully.

"Yes, if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, Ben." Jamie carefully took the files from Ben, who handed them off as he picked up the receiver.

"Do you need any help with that?"

Jamie looked up at Carl Davis, losing herself again in those velvet eyes. "Uh... I'm good. I'm just going to put these down. I've got to check his calendar and pull some other case files for his reports." Mentally, she chided herself. Jamie, he just asked a simple question, and you're babbling. You sound nervous, and he's the kind of person who notices things. She tried again. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant –"

"Carl, my name is Carl." His smile transformed his handsome face, making him seem much less intimidating. "I get it, you're busy –"

"No, it's not that... well, yes, it is but..." Jamie's internal alarms were blaring, but somehow her common sense just didn't seem to work around him. Maybe this was because she found the detective very attractive. None of that should matter now – she didn't have time to indulge in such foolishness.

"It's no problem... Jamie. I have to get back anyway." With a brief nod, Carl turned to walk away.

"Lieute- Carl, wait..."

The lieutenant stopped and turned to face Jamie. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry for being rude. It's just that I'm new here, and I'm still getting my bearings." Jamie considered the man. Given the snippet of conversation she'd overheard, she'd be wise to keep close tabs on him. And, after all, he was a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department; he could prove useful at some point. His being good-looking should not have any bearing on her assessments. But it doesn't make your job any harder, does it?

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just always careful about being professional at the workplace."

Davis took a few tentative steps toward her. "No harm, I understand. Listen..." He hesitated, "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way. I just - I have a way of doing that to people."

"Look... I have to ... attend to this for Ben but... do you think... I mean, other than the usual fast–food dives I don't know any of the really good local places...but I was wondering…" Jamie trailed off, berating herself for sounding, to her ears, like a shy teenager.

Davis was amused by the awkwardness and decided to help her out. "Well I know the good, the bad, and the places to definitely stay away from." He smiled tentatively. "Would you like to have lunch?"

"Lunch sounds great, Carl. Just call me to give me a head's up."

Now, his smile was broader, his delight genuine, "That's great! I'll give you call around one, if that's not too late for you..."

"No, that's fine. I'll wait to hear from you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better start getting some real work done today."

Carl started walking backwards, "OK, see ya then." He finally turned around, and headed out, whistling under his breath.

Sighing heavily, Jamie hurried to Ben Talbot's office. She took a quick peek in the direction of her cubicle. Fortunately, his call was still in progress. With no one nearby, Jamie was able to thumb through the St. John file as she walked. Files on his desk were usually kept there because they were active and the private investigator's file had been in that stack as well, making it difficult for her to get access. Perhaps she'd finally get a chance to find out exactly what the ADA knew about St. John, why he wanted to investigate further – and what Beth Turner's involvement was in all this.

As she flipped through Mick St. John's folder, she immediately noticed that one singularly significant list was missing – and it wasn't in any of the other folders she held. So, what had he done with it? Had he mentioned it to Davis? She sighed in frustration. There was just too much she didn't know, too much she couldn't see. Next week would be her one month anniversary in her job and she'd made no progress at all.

"Shi–"

"Good morning!"

Beth whirled around, knocking her bag off the desk in her surprise; she had not seen or heard the young woman come up behind her. The result was that the contents of her bag were now sliding across the floor. "Just great," she muttered. The morning was turning out to be as bad as she had predicted, if not worse. Bad enough Mick had that annoying tendency; she wasn't about to tolerate it from a human. "Dammit! Don't sneak up on me like that!" she snapped, dropping to her knees to scramble after pens, lipstick and other random items from her bag.

Jamie Sommers flinched and bent down to pick up an errant notepad . As she handed it back to Beth, she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. Let me help you." She knelt down to help scoop the stack of items back into Beth's handbag. "I was just coming over to say good morning and introduce myself."

Nice going, Turner, Beth chastised herself, ashamed of her outburst. "No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault – I just had a crazy morning. I didn't mean to snap at you." Extending her hand to the woman, she smiled. "I'm Beth Turner, by the way."

"Jamie Sommers." The admin took Beth's hand.

Realization crossed Beth's features. She climbed to her feet, pulling Jamie up with her. dusting off her pants. "Oh, you're Jamie! I've spoken to you over the phone, and I've seen you around, but I never quite made the connection."

"I already knew who you were," Jamie smiled. "I support Ben Talbot and some of the other deputy ADs as needed and I handled some of your new hire requisitions." With introductions completed, she focused on her objective in earnest. "Hey, why don't you get yourself settled and come grab a cup of coffee with me? I found out where the good stuff is, and it ain't in the main kitchen."

"Um... well..." Beth thought of the messages on her phone. I've got to get some work done or I'm in trouble.

"Oh... That's - it's OK. I keep forgetting, this is Los Angeles, not New Orleans. Y'all have different ways. I get it... well, I'm starting to, anyway."

For the second time in their brief conversation, Beth felt like a complete jerk. Someone was trying to be nice to her, and her first reaction was to distance herself. "No, I'm sorry – again - Jamie. I've just got a lot on my mind." She smiled. "Coffee sounds wonderful right now!"

"Great!". As she walked by Beth's desk, Jamie risked a quick look for information and focused in on the picture of a very handsome man in a small, antiqued frame. She remembered the brief snippet of conversation she'd overheard between Carl Davis and Ben Talbot, but there wasn't enough information for Jamie to be positive that the image was that of Mick St. John.

"So, how long have you been here?" Beth had caught up with Jamie and smiled warmly at the young woman.

"Only a few weeks. I came to Los Angeles not long after I completed my Master's Degree –"

"Wait, you're an administrative assistant with a Master's Degree?" Beth stopped dead in surprise.

Jamie shrugged. "What can I tell you? It's rough out there!" She was relieved to see Beth's encouraging smile. Hopefully, this meant that she was starting to trust her. "I had student loans to pay and I just couldn't afford to take the time to look for that dream job. So what's your excuse for being here?"

Beth shrugged, "Change of pace." Images of her recent past jostled for position in her head. "My last job was very different. I loved it, but it cost me a lot personally." Sighing, she added, "Plus, a change in management made it impossible for me to stay. Ben offered me this job, and it sounded interesting."

"Really? How did you meet Ben? If you don't mind my asking…"

"I think I'll need coffee first before we have that discussion."

Both women laughed as they made their way down an adjacent hallway, around a corner, into a break room Beth hadn't known about. She deeply inhaled the vanilla scent wafting from the coffee pot. "Mmm... smells like heaven."

"Vanilla Biscotti," Jamie chimed in. She grabbed two porcelain mugs from a nearby cabinet and handed one to Beth. "Just wait until you taste it."

Beth needed no further prodding. Coffee was one of her addictions – right up there with chocolate and... She blushed at the thought. If she were being honest though… sex with Mick St. John is definitely addictive.

Her flushed face did not go unnoticed. "Are you okay? You look a little hot."

The civilian investigator shook her head, trying to hide her embarrassment. "It's nothing... just...," she smiled slightly, "just…thinking."

"Maybe about the man in the photo on your desk?" She caught the look of surprise from Beth. "Sorry I wasn't trying to pry, I just happened to see the picture on your desk. If he is your boyfriend, he is hot!" Jamie smiled disarmingly.

Beth looked down at her mug. She was not comfortable talking about Mick with just anyone – nor with the fact that she didn't quite know what to call him. "We are…seeing each other. And yes, he is definitely hot." She laughed.

Sensing the other woman's uneasiness, Jamie proceeded with caution. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry Beth. I truly am not trying to poke into your business. We just met! I just saw the picture and was curious." Now, if she could find out if her suspicions were correct about the man's identity. "Such a handsome man would sure brighten my day."

"Oh, he's a lot more than a pretty face. He's seen me through some very rough times." Beth went quiet as images of the past few months ran through her head.

"A good guy is hard to find," Jamie offered. Inwardly, she chastised herself for moving too fast. She could make the supposition that Mick and Beth were much more than friends based on the picture, but that wasn't how she'd been taught to work. Confirm, then report – that was the rule. She sensed that asking any more pointed question would be crossing a line with Beth at this stage. Jamie had succeeded in breaking the ice – next she had to gain Beth's confidence. Maybe...

"I sure hope Lieutenant Davis is a good one."

Beth dropped her Splenda packet, her mouth falling open. "Lieutenant Davis? Carl Davis?!"

Well, that seemed to work. "Why yes… do you know him?"

"Yes," Beth admitted. "For some time now. I reported on some of the cases he was involved with while I was with BuzzWire, my last employer."

Realization hit Jamie. The case files! Though she'd only gotten a few minutes to go through as many as she could before Talbot returned to his office, she remembered seeing Beth's information, along with the lieutenant's and Mick St. John's.

"I thought I recognized you!" She got her own cup of coffee, which gave her a reason to get closer to Beth. "You were the reporter on the Vampire Co–ed Murders!"

"Yep, guilty."

"Wow... small world I'm walking into. I hope Carl has good things to say about me after we have lunch this afternoon."

Beth was flabbergasted. "You... you're going on a lunch date with Carl?!"

"Why... is he not a nice man?"

"No – no, nothing like that! He seems to be a very nice man. It's just that… I've never personally known anyone he's gone out with."

"You still don't, technically," Jamie corrected with a laugh. "We'll see how this date goes. But I have to admit... he is my type." She paused. "Is there anything you can tell me about him? Any rumors? Info on the ex–girlfriends? Hey, help a girl out!

Beth almost choked on her coffee as she started laughing. "Wait till I tell Mick that Carl is booking lunch dates at Ben's office!"

"Come on, Beth! You have your fine man – Mick, is it?! I want one too!" Jamie teased as they started back toward their desks, pleased that the tension seemed to have dissipated. Maybe now they could really start talking. Through this seemingly simple exchange, she had learned a lot. Without question, Mick St. John, Beth Turner and Carl Davis all knew each other, and - most importantly,= - Beth certainly hadn't done or said anything to deny that she and Mick were in a relationship. And in only a few hours, she'd be having lunch with Lieutenant Davis. One down...

She would have to be very careful about handling Turner. Jamie had to figure out how to get Beth to confide in her more readily, not an easy task given her obvious guardedness. She had no other feasible option, however. Beth Turner was definitely the way to get to St. John.

The three vampires were finally on their way to the airport, the luxurious limousine piloted expertly through the Los Angeles rush hour traffic by one of Josef's many 'assistants'. "We'll be at the airport in 45 minutes, Mr. Kostan," the eager young hireling announced confidently.

"Thanks, Brian," Josef responded and hit a button, raising the Plexiglas divider between driver and occupants as he turned to face his two friends. They were respectful of his feelings, each riding quietly with their thoughts. He couldn't help but note how different they were, yet so similar in their loyalty. There was only one of them he trusted completely, however.

As if he had read his friend's thoughts, Mick leaned forward. "What can I do, Josef?

"Just find out who did this, Mick." Josef was grim, brown eyes locking on his friend's hazel ones. "And when you do, I want them wacked."

"Josef, don't make assumptions. We don't have any idea what happened yet. Listen, let's just get to New York and I promise you – if there is anyone involved, I'll find out." Mick sat back. Why did it already feel like it had been a very long day? With a sigh, he tried to steer the conversation in another direction. "So, how did you two meet?"

They both started at once, then Victoria held her hand up. "I go first, Josef – so that Mick here can at least hear the correct version before you distort it." Kostan bowed as much as the seating arrangements would allow and gestured for her to continue.

Victoria began again. "We met in New York during the war - the Civil War. New York City was the biggest metropolitan center even then, so it was a natural gathering place for the few vampires that lived in America at that time. You have to understand that we were mostly a group that had fled pogroms in Europe – immigrants, just like so many others in this country. I came to New York not long after I was 'turned' – back when it was the capital of the United States."

St. John raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know New York was ever the capital."

"Yep. Those were some good times," Josef chimed in for the first time.

"I guess it all depends on your definition of 'good time'". Victoria's voice was soft. "As you can imagine, it was, at the very least, a hectic, chaotic time – good for vampires, bad for humans. There was minimal risk to vamps then - there was just too much going on for us to be noticed, and ample opportunity to feed from careless or injured soldiers. There was also a constant influx of new bodies; New York raised thousands of militia and there were many regiments quartered there. Just like everyone else, vamps picked sides too. Some were pro–slavery and others against it – and lots of them only went after soldiers on the 'opposing' side. Medical care was, of course, much cruder in those days, so a few bite marks here and there went unnoticed or were written off as rat bites. Vermin were everywhere in those days." She shuddered delicately.

When Mick looked at her, amused, with that cocked eyebrow again, Victoria exclaimed, "What?! I don't like rats, okay?" Her private thoughts were quite different. The man really is incredibly sexy...

With a sigh, she continued. "Then came the riots. Draft riots in the city. The militia was called out and a number of vamps were killed... the bayonet proved to be a very effective tool for beheading a vampire." Her face was expressionless as she spoke.

"There weren't that many of us to begin with." This comment came from a gloomy Josef. He glanced at Victoria, "I always suspected Crucis involvement."

Mick looked at Josef quizzically. That name again – Crucis. What is going on? He opened his mouth to ask about it, but at that moment, the limousine pulled up to the airport entrance for chartered flights, the driver proudly announcing, "Here we are – five minutes ahead of schedule, Mr. Kostan."

"Thank you, Brian," Josef raised his hand to shield his face from the early morning sun as he climbed out of the car. "Get our bags inside, will you?"

"We shall continue this conversation on board, Mick," Victoria smiled blindingly up at her companion as he helped her from the limo, projecting the full force of her sexual aura at him. Let's just see what happens.

Mick stared at her, a slight smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He knew what she was doing and found it both amusing, and perplexing.

I hope Josef told her about Beth and me; I'm not up to dealing with this the whole trip...

With that unspoken communication between them, they joined Josef as he headed up the steps into the chartered jet, on their way to New York and an uncertain future.

End Song: 2 The Sky by Robin Thicke