Chapter 36

Definition of Destiny

Intro song: Definition of Destiny, Billy Talent

"What a damn day!" Beth exclaimed in exasperation as she threw her purse into the passenger seat of her small car and slid behind the wheel. She'd spent the last hour interviewing Jack Williams at a coffee shop near his parents' home. The meeting had been singularly unproductive and she couldn't decide if that was because Williams was angry that she had stood him up and was making her pay by being uncooperative - or if he truly didn't know anything.

Chewing on her lower lip in thought, she turned on the radio to search for a jazz station before reaching into her bag for a legal pad to sketch out the notes from the interview just completed. She smiled as she identified the first song as "Kind of Blue," a Miles Davis classic. Mick really is rubbing off on me. "If only some of his investigative skills would rub off on me too," she muttered, frowning down at her notes. Williams had added little to what she already knew, professing to be in total shock regarding his parents' deaths. After apologizing profusely for her tardiness - and lying about the cause - Beth had attempted to extract useful information from the young man. She hadn't gotten much.

He had reported that his parents' marriage seemed to be very happy and healthy, with no infidelities on either side that he was aware of. His father's practice also was described as thriving, eliminating the possibility of money problems as a catalyst for the alleged murder/suicide. However, he had also admitted to not being as close to his parents as his brother.

"Jaxon works with dad..." The stocky, young man had trailed off, biting his lip to fight back tears before correcting himself. "I'm sorry, Jaxon worked with dad in his practice. He's an attorney as well and entered the practice several years ago. He'd be the one to talk to about Dad's business dealings."

"Where is your brother?"

"He's been on a business trip to Japan, but he was taking a side trip for pleasure to visit some isolated shrines. Jaxon is a Japanese culture 'otaku' - that's a Japanese word for a rabid fan. It took me more than a day to reach him - he's on his way back now but he won't get in until late tonight."

He had glanced up at Beth, frowning from under dark brows. "I told the detective all this, but now, here I am again, talking to you. Guess my brother has a better alibi than I do, huh?"

"Mr. Williams, you are not under investigation here. We are just trying to obtain as much information as possible so that we can determine why your mother might have committed this act."

"Might?! Are you saying there's a chance she didn't do it?" The young man had seized on Beth's comment, leaning forward, eager for any sign that his mother was not responsible for the heinous act.

Beth cursed her choice of words. "I'm sorry, I don't want to mislead you, Mr. Williams. All of our investigation so far points to this as a murder-suicide, with your mother as the perpetrator. We are just trained not to talk in absolutes until we are one hundred percent sure."

He had nodded, sitting back and swallowing hard. "In some ways, I feel like it is my fault. I'm all but finished with my PhD in psychology - just have to defend my dissertation. I'll be, supposedly, qualified to do therapy with people in a couple of months, call myself 'doctor'." The young man had stopped and shaken his head. "Some therapist, huh? My own family and I can't spot someone so disturbed that she would kill her husband - and herself. My own mother!" His voice was filled with pain and bitterness.

Beth's heart had gone out to the young man. What a heavy load of guilt to carry around. She knew all too well what that felt like. She'd put her hand on his arm and attempted to reassure him. "But, you weren't their therapist, Jack, you were their son. Parents often don't share their troubles with their children - even grown ones."

He had remained unconvinced, but had at least promised to get in touch with her when his brother returned from his business trip so that she could interview him.

She put down her legal pad and pen and leaned back against the headrest, closing her eyes for a moment. So much pain. It seemed like her job surrounded her with pain and suffering. Maybe this wasn't the place for her after all. You're just tired - and hungry, she chastised herself as her stomach growled. First things, first though…She pulled out her phone and fired off a text to Mick.

I know why you went down there now. I wish

we'd talked about it first, but I love you for

trying to protect me. Yet again.

Stay safe and come home to me.

Beth stared at the phone screen for a long moment before hitting 'send'. Remembering her promise to Jamie, Beth made a quick call to set up lunch. With a sigh, she started the car and drove on to the restaurant she had booked. Sitting down at a table by one of the big windows with her notebook and phone, she settled in to wait for her colleague.

Ten minutes later, Jamie rushed into the restaurant, frazzled and out of breath. Get a grip, she chided herself. One thing all this had taught her already was that she was definitely not cut out for the life of a double agent. No Jason Bourne in your future! There was just so much riding on this; if only she could confide in Beth, tell her everything she knew, she felt certain the young woman would respond. Her orders, however, were quite clear. Beth Turner could be used as a means to an end - to get to St. John - but she could reveal herself and her mission only to him. Would they even need to know, though? She just wasn't ready to take such a drastic step. Not yet.

Jamie stopped in front of the entry mirror, struggling to tame her wild curls before she approached Beth's table, plastering a smile on her face that felt fake, even to her. "Hey!" she said, sliding onto the chair across from her.

"You got here fast," Beth commented, pushing her legal pad to the side.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't wait to get out of that office. Plus, I'm starving!" Jamie grinned, a genuine smile this time. She nodded toward Beth's notes. "Anything useful?"

The civilian investigator filled her in on her interview with Jack Williams, concluding, "It was pretty much a waste of time - for both of us. Maybe the other son will be of more help, but I doubt it. I'm afraid this will just end up as one of those cases with no answers." She stirred her ice water with her straw for a moment. "Or maybe I'm just in no mood to deal with anyone else's troubles." Beth looked up to meet her companion's eyes, abruptly remembering that she was not the only one with problems. "I'm so sorry, Jamie. I've been so self-absorbed, I haven't even thought to ask you about your family. Any news on your missing relative? I know you wanted to talk to Mick about it and I pro-"

Jamie grabbed a roll and began buttering it, shaking her head at her co-worker as she interrupted, "You are anything but self-absorbed; you just have some very real concerns in your life that you are trying to deal with. Let's wait until the guys are back from San Diego; then we can talk about it. You've got enough on your mind right now - we both do."

Beth opened her mouth to probe further, but stopped. She was preoccupied, and Jamie obviously didn't want to talk about her situation right now. Instead, she just nodded. "Okay, enough of being morose for one day. How are other things with Carl?"

Jamie rolled her eyes theatrically. "Who knows? We are talking about men, after all. It's the usual - one step forward, two steps back. We've had dinner, lunch, even had coffee on Sunday morning..." She trailed off as she thought about the subject matter of that Sunday morning meeting. Shaking it off, she continued, "Sometimes, though, it feels like it's more about business than pleasure. I can't tell if it's because he's just a formal guy who's wrapped up in his career - or, if it really is just business for him. He's hard to read."

Beth laughed. "What man isn't, Jamie?" I thought Mick was easy... "I think it's part of their initiation into manhood - training to teach them how to be impossible for women to understand. Sometimes, I don't think they even understand themselves."

"Even Mick, huh?" Seeing Beth's face change, Jamie added quickly, "No, don't answer that. Don't burst my bubble - I like to think of you two as having the perfect relationship." You are such a liar. Switch subjects. "So, Beth, I never got a chance to ask you about your family. Are you from L.A. originally?"

"Yes, I grew up here, but no family. Are you close to your family?" Beth tried to twist the subject back to her lunch partner, but Jamie was not to be deterred.

"Too close, sometimes - I think that is the curse of being a daughter. You don't have that problem? No dad worrying that his little girl is too good for the likes of Mick St. John?"

"No, no I don't." Beth's face saddened and she fidgeted with her phone for a moment before meeting Jamie's warm brown gaze. "My parents are dead and I don't have any brothers or sisters. So, no, I don't have that particular... problem, but I would give almost anything to have to deal with it. You don't know how lucky you are, Jamie."

"Beth, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." Jamie reached across the table to put her hand on Beth's arm. "I'm a complete shit for talking to you about family like this. I just didn't know," she repeated.

"It's okay, Jamie, really it is. I'm used to it. I'd rather not talk about it - too painful. Oh, thanks," Beth smiled up at their server, who picked that moment to arrive with their entrees, setting the plates in front of them. "This looks great, doesn't it?" she commented.

Okay, you want to change that subject, you get to. I am such an asshole. "Especially since you're buying!" Jamie laughed at the look on Beth's face. "You didn't think I'd forget about it, did you? I help you, you help me, right? That's what friends are for."

Beth smiled and nodded, but said nothing, taking up her fork to pick at her Cobb salad. Jamie couldn't remember when she'd felt like such a terrible person. She kept telling herself over and over, I'm trying to help them. It didn't make her feel any better. Though the remainder of their lunch conversation focused on lighter topics, there was an air of sadness about Beth that lingered through the remainder of lunch.

Carl Davis had spent the bulk of his morning preparing to be on the road and out of touch, returning phone calls and catching up on paperwork for several cases. There was a bright side to it, at least - he wouldn't have to pull night shift this evening. The next stop on his 'to-do list' was the official carpool to pick up his vehicle for the day. A drive from Los Angeles to San Diego was long and hot - good working air conditioning and plenty of leg room were at the top of his list. The heat was going to be brutal by late afternoon and he had no intention of making the long road trip without a decent car.

As he stepped into the fleet garage, Carl eyed a dark-haired man, notably shorter - but far broader - than he was. "Yo, Suarez!" he greeted the yard master cheerily.

"Yo, Davis!" Rafael Suarez returned with a broad grin. "You here to pick up your ride for the day?"

"Yeah, and it's a long, hot one, so give me something good."

The attendant nodded, and quickly checked his log. Shaking his head, Rafael grabbed a set of keys. "I'll bring it to you…"

Carl's eyebrows raised. "Hey, I'm just one of the regular peons. You don't have to do that…"

"No, I want to… you'll see," the vehicle pool manager responded cryptically, grinning widely.

The detective groaned inwardly. Why was he sure that he was about to get the absolute worst wreck in the fleet. He waited, fidgeting with his watch, trying to think of anything he might have done to piss off Suarez. When he looked up, his eyes widened. "What the fu- "

The vehicle that pulled up was not the standard issue sedan or Ford Explorer – and definitely not a wreck. The large, sleek SUV rolled up slowly, tinted windows as dark as legally allowed, black paint gleaming even in the garage fluorescence.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Carl finally managed to get out. "It can't be!" The Cadillac grille, however, was unmistakable.

The darkened glass on the driver side door slid silently down. "How 'bout these wheels, son!" Rafael yelled, sticking his head out of the window. "I damn near shit a brick when this bad boy rolled up this morning. And then, when I was told it was for your trip today… man. I mean, you should have seen the other guys. The sound of their jaws dropping could be heard for blocks." Suarez gently gunned the engine to punctuate his sentence, the powerful, smooth revving making a statement of its power. "You can probably smell the leather from there, right?"

Davis was still stunned. "How the hell did we get an Escalade in this fleet?! Hell, the Chief doesn't even get this kind of car!"

Rafael jumped out of the truck, leaving the door open. "I don't know… I can tell you the car was 'gifted' to the Department." An impish grin crossed the yard master's features. "I already got people calling 'dibs' on this ride. Let the in-fighting begin!"

"And who would donate this kind of car to us?"

Suarez looked at his manifest and shook his head. "Doesn't say. You got a sugar daddy somewhere, Davis, my man?"

Carl snorted. "Yeah, right. But, what I want to know is... how'd the car get cleared for use so fast?" He was really intrigued, his detective instincts kicking in now that the initial shock had passed.

Rafael shrugged. "Hey, what's that they say about 'gift horses'? 'Don't ask, don't tell' works for me. The paper work is all in order. You know these big money types – some guy probably drove it once and decided he wanted it in a different color. Donates this thing to us, gets the tax write-off. No biggie – happens more often than you'd think – just not usually with somethin' this nice."

Despite Suarez's assurances, Carl's head still buzzed with questions, but he decided that perhaps his friend was right. Just take it as a good omen and get on with it.

"Hey, I'm not arguing." Grabbing his briefcase, Carl headed towards the car, and patted Rafael on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."

"Just remember I hooked you up! Who loves ya, baby?" Rafael grinned as he gave his colleague a final wave.

"I'll remember," Carl called out as he hopped into the driver's seat, tossing his possessions into the back. Taking in the vehicle's opulence, he inhaled the distinctive new car smell. "Enjoy it while you can," he muttered out loud, clicking the seat belt into place.

With a final wave to the yard master, Davis headed out. If he had glanced in his rearview mirror, he might have noticed Rafael looking after him speculatively before pulling out his phone and speaking into it.

As he waited for cross traffic to clear at the gate's exit, Carl decided to test the in-dash GPS by punching in Mick St. John's address. He shook his head at the thought, still surprised that they were working a case together. Not that he had a problem with the private investigator. After everything St. John had done to try to save Lindsey, how could he not, at the very least, respect him?

If he were being honest with himself, Carl liked the guy, though the fact that his feathers never seemed to ruffle – except where Beth was concerned - was unsettling. P.I.s he'd been around were often cocky and self-assured – they'd probably seen too many movies. Mick St. John, however, was a special kind of confident. It made him uneasy for reasons he couldn't articulate. That at least partly explained why he'd been so rough on the investigator initially. True, cops weren't all that fond of "freelancers" like Mick, a fact of life that had given him a rational reason for his attitude toward the P.I. Still, the man had not done anything deserving of mistreatment or contempt - quite the opposite, in fact. Still, there were unanswered questions about many of the cases Mick had been involved with. And then, there was the matter of those unexplained photographs of St. John getting up and walking away from a hit-and-run that, by all rights, should at least have landed him in the hospital...

Even before the meeting yesterday, Carl had resolved to give Mick a fair chance. This road trip would give them the opportunity to talk, get to know one another better. He had felt bad for Mick after Talbot put him on the spot by threatening to use Beth in order to strong arm him into taking on the case. That was unethical as hell. Mick, predictably, had stepped up to protect the woman he loved.

Talbot... now, that was a situation he found completely unsavory and he could definitely justify his reasons for feeling that way. Having a file on Mick, and setting up this twosome so that Carl could spy on the man, was an abuse of power and completely unwarranted in his opinion. As far as Davis was concerned, Talbot displayed an unhealthy interest in St. John overall. Josh Lindsey's death aside, nothing Carl could detect gave him a satisfactory explanation for the ADA's conduct, or hostility. And St. John definitely wasn't responsible for that. Not that he was one to talk - he hadn't been any fairer toward the P.I. in the beginning. But he was just a cop after all - someone in Talbot's position wielding that kind of power - and a personal agenda - could be outright dangerous.

If nothing else, he decided he would do his best to make Mick feel like a colleague during this trip. Who knows? They might hit it off. Besides, he smiled to himself, having a good P.I. as an ally wouldn't hurt - and, from what he'd seen, St. John would be one hell of an ace in the hole. Then why are you so uneasy?Davis tried to shrug it off. He always was uneasy around new partners, and this was no different - and he would tell himself that as often as necessary.

I'm going crazy. Beth felt as if she might jump out of her skin if she had to stay in the office one more minute. Mick was right; she needed to learn to take his work in stride. She had once told him that she didn't have to ask his permission to work on a BuzzWire story that he felt was too dangerous. Didn't he have the same right? But...Before she could finish the thought, her phone rang. She grabbed it off her desk, hoping against hope that it would be Mick, even though she really didn't expect to hear from him.

"Beth Turner."

"Hey, Blondie."

Josef! She answered with a calm she did not feel. "Hello, Josef. What do you want?"

"Nice to hear your voice too, Beth. How's your day going?" Kostan's snarky nature was always near the surface, ready to strike whenever the opportunity presented itself.

I do not need this today. "Sorry, Josef. I'm just a little... preoccupied. Besides, I'm not sure that I should talk to you at all! Thanks so much for the trouble you got me into with Mick for coming to you about this San Diego case. Couldn't you have made something up?!"

"Beth - how long have you known Mick? Six months or so right?"

My whole life. "Something like that."

"Well, I've been friends with him for over fifty years. Give me some credit for knowing what I can and can not put over on him. It wouldn't have mattered what I told him. He'd have figured it out, and then he wouldn't have listened to anything I said. Believe me, I saved both of us headaches in the long run."

She said nothing, not willing to let him off the hook so easily.

Josef sighed noisily into her ear. "Okay, so that's how we're gonna play this today, huh? You know, sulking does not become you, Beth. Although, if it's because of your love life with my friend, I would completely understand..."

Beth gritted her teeth. "Don't project, Josef." She was in no mood for trading jabs with Josef Kostan today. To her surprise, he started laughing.

"Good for you, Beth. Look, I really just wanted to know if Mick had a last minute change of heart or if he's actually on his way to this fool's errand."

"He's on his way, Josef. " She relented slightly. "I know you tried to talk him out of going and I appreciate that, even if it did get me in hot water. I hope all this worry is just me being an overprotective girlfriend."

"Get used to life in the vampire nation, Blondie." With a click, Kostan was gone.

Beth glared at her phone, as if she could see the elder vampire's smirk on its surface. Damn you, Josef, you just have to have the last word, don't you?

Kostan stared, unseeing, at his desktop for a long moment before turning to Ryder England, who hovered anxiously beside his desk.

"Well, it appears that our idiot vampire P.I. is going to go ahead with this insane plan to investigate this San Diego case. In the desert. With a human – a cop, no less - who doesn't know about us, with other cops around, just for added pleasure." He shook his head disgustedly. "Why does Mick have to do everything the hard way. No, wait." He raised his hand as England opened his mouth the respond. "Don't answer that. I already know. It's in his goddamn DNA." He waved his hand toward an empty seat on the far side of his desk. "Sit down, Ryder and take notes. You've got a lot of work to do, just in case my fucked-up friend decides to martyr himself for some human...again."

Josef sighed theatrically before continuing. "According to what Beth told me yesterday, Mick and his new sidekick are going to meet with the detective in charge of the case, then go to the morgue, then, god help us all, go to the desert where the murders took place." Kostan sat down heavily in his desk chair and swiveled it around to look out the long windows at the late afternoon sun.

"So, Josef, how are we supposed to know where he's at and what's going on?" Ryder prodded.

"I've got Mick's car bugged - and the great investigator has no idea," Josef replied, turning back around to England with a smirk.

"But...what if they don't take Mick's car?" The lanky geek could not imagine that it would be as easy as Kostan seemed to think. Nothing ever was.

"Trust me, Ryder, it's covered. They didn't take Mick's car as it turns out; I just heard from the yard master right before Beth called . Davis requisitioned one from the motor pool and got a very special model. One that's also bugged. One that you and Logan can track. I've put Griffen on retainer and he knows he needs to be available to help you out. Here's the information you'll need," Kostan leaned across his desk to hand the vampire a paper with the frequency and ID numbers of the tracking bugs. "I'm assuming that Mick can at least make it to San Diego without some calamity – but who knows with him. I'll need you two to tap into the police frequencies too - I want you to monitor the communications. If anything happens, their protocol will be to call for backup - and you'll hear it."

England nodded. "We can do that. Anything else?"

Josef stood up again and began pacing in the narrow space behind his desk like a caged animal waiting to be harassed and teased. Instead of attending to some urgent margin calls, he had spent the closing hours of the market alternating between drawing up his own back-up plan and cursing St. John's headstrong ways for making this necessary. His agile mind, normally focused on manipulating the finance market, had reviewed - and discarded - possible options for getting Mick out of harm's way if his best friend wound up, as he fully expected, in trouble.

"Yeah. Get me a helicopter."

Ryder raised both eyebrows at the comment, a toothy grin spreading across his face. "Seriously, Josef? You want a helicopter? That's awesome."

Josef groaned. Next thing you know I'll have Logan here, salivating too. "Don't get any bright ideas. This is strictly on an emergency basis - no joy riding. I mean it! I'm getting the fastest thing out there, too, not some dog that's a traffic report reject. I want the chopper - and a pilot - on-call 24/7, starting in the next hour. Simone has all the necessary paperwork ready to go, you just need to move the money around and ensure that everything is in place. It needs to be ready if Mick gets hurt and needs a quick getaway."

Ryder guffawed. "Hey, Josef, I don't know if you've noticed, but Mick's a vampire. I think he'll heal."

Stopping in front of his assistant, Josef eyed him steadily, his normally warm brown eyes turning cold and hard. "Funny. Now let me ask you something, Ryder. Just what do you think would happen if Mick is shot or hurt?"

"Well - I mean - he'd heal, wouldn't he?" England was puzzled by the question.

"Yes. He would." Josef replied evenly, only his eyes betraying his impatience. "Right in front of humans. Worse yet, in front of cops. Cops who notice things. Who are suspicious. Who don't know about us. I intend to do whatever is necessary to keep it that way. Got it?"

Ryder nodded mutely.

"Okay, so remember, no playing with the helicopter." Josef reiterated, deliberately trying to lighten the mood. "You and Logan monitor the police frequencies. If there is any trouble, they'll call for back-up. Standard police protocol. Guillermo will be with the chopper with a fresh blood supply, just in case. I've already talked to him - you just need to tell him the airport and hanger where it will be. Oh, and keep me posted on all of it. If you see or hear anything at all out of the ordinary, I want to know about it the second you do!" On the prowl again, Josef looked out the tall windows without really seeing anything. Damn you, Mick, he thought for the hundredth time since this escapade became a reality. Turning around, he frowned at the sight of England, still seated, pen poised expectantly in hand.

"Ryder, what the hell are you still doing here? You have things to do. Out!"

The lanky vampire sprang out of his chair as if he'd been bitten and hurried off, shaking his head. Between Josef and Mick, he wasn't sure who was testier. Work was definitely not fun these days. He brightened though, as he thought about the new helicopter toy. Now, he just needed to come up with a plausible reason to go for a ride…

End song: Learning to Fly, Pink Floyd