Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimers and other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia Rivera, Doris and Ashlee Wolfe, and Phillip Spaulding are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The original characters of Jennifer, Tracy, Jacob and Dylan Jackson-Morgan and their extended family, Detective Sargent Langston Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, Judge Bennett Thomas, Dorian "Rian", Lauren, and Clay Vaughan, and Diane and Toni Martin are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. The dialogue, settings, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Thanks so much to my pal, MoniRod for the edit. I appreciate you more than you know. And thank you to all who continue to read and comment. I truly appreciate your interest in this story.
Rating: Chapter 14 is rated R-ish for some sexual situations/conversations.
Hope y'all enjoy!
Kim
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. 5 If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. 6 But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 7 That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. 8 Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do."
— James 1:2-8, the Bible, New International Version (NIV)
"God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage. If God brings you to it, He will bring you through it."
— Unknown
Chapter 14.16 – Trials and Tribulations:
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Penthouse Suite, the Beacon—7:00 a.m. Central Daylight Time
After hearing Ashlee's account of the events that had occurred at that frat party, Dani was once again convinced that the entire ordeal had been a set-up. She just needed to figure out how to prove it. The first step had been to let Langston know about their witness, so that they could change the trajectory of the case in Tracy's favor. And now that Ashlee's formal statement had been procured, she felt confident in allowing Langston to question Tracy directly. With that goal in mind, she called Tracy first thing that morning, asking her to accompany her back to the police station as soon as possible.
Having had little sleep, both Jen and Tracy were understandably exhausted when the phone woke them at such an ungodly hour. Before leaving the Beacon the night before, Olivia had insisted that they take the next day off, and they readily agreed; thanking Olivia for her support and understanding. Olivia simply chalked it up to common sense, arguing that they had far too much on their plate to function properly on their jobs, and she didn't want to put them through that. She also she knew that Tracy would likely end up back at the precinct anyway, because of all that had transpired with Ashlee earlier that evening. Natalia had been incredibly proud of her for looking out for Jen and Tracy, rather than worrying about the Beacon. Oh, what a difference a few months could make!
Despite not having to be up for work, after Dani's call came in, Jen and Tracy quickly dressed, and began their day with a light breakfast in the privacy of the penthouse suite. It would be the only few moments of solitude they would share in a long, emotionally tumultuous morning.
The conversation staggered between the clinking of silverware against their plates, and bites of food that neither of them really tasted, their thoughts lost in the mangled mess that had become a blockade in their plans for the future. Tracy knew in her heart that Jen didn't blame her at all. But she couldn't help feeling guilty anyway. How could she not? she reasoned. Morgan never would have challenged Jen for custody, if not for Tracy's presence in their lives—and Tracy had been the one to push for the relationship from the start.
"Please stop beating yourself up over this," Jen said knowingly, around a mouthful of fresh cantaloupe. It was juicy and sweet, but her taste buds barely even registered its presence.
Glancing up from her own serving of fresh fruit that she had been mindlessly pushing around the plate with a fork, she met Jen's soft blue gaze. "How did you know?"
Jen offered a slight smile. "Because I know you better than anyone," she said with confidence. "You always take the weight on your own shoulders, bearing the burden so that others won't have to. I love you for that, Trace. But you don't have to do it anymore." She reached across the table, taking Tracy's hand. "We're in this together now."
Tracy's smile was genuine, as she squeezed Jen's hand. "I love you, Cara," she said softly.
"Right back at ya," Jen murmured.
Silence fell between them again, as each contemplated their day. "What do you think will happen today?" Tracy finally asked. She pushed her plate back on the table, indicating that she was finished with its contents. She hadn't really eaten much of anything.
Jen took a sip of her coffee. "Best case scenario, you get to come home tonight."
"And the worst case scenario?" Tracy pressed.
Jen shrugged. "I don't know, Honey," she answered with uncertainty. "But whatever happens, they can't put you back in jail, so there's that." She tried her best to sound optimistic.
"Yes," Tracy agreed. "And I'm so grateful to Olivia and Phillip for that."
"I am, too," Jen said with a soft smile. "I don't know how we'll ever repay them."
"Something tells me they don't expect us to," Tracy commented.
Nodding, Jen smiled. "Yes, I suppose you're right."
Their conversation continued then, with Tracy's insistence that Jen drive out to the farmhouse to see the boys that morning. Jen protested, of course, insisting that her place was with Tracy at the police station. But Tracy argued the importance of keeping things as normal as possible for their sons, and that it made sense for Jen to be the one to take them, and Emma, back to their house, where Jane would be watching them that day.
Grudgingly, Jen agreed. She kissed Tracy goodbye in the atrium at the Beacon, and then they parted ways, promising to reconnect in a few hours. And with that, Jen took their car and headed out to the farmhouse, while Tracy grabbed a ride back to the station with Dani, who also happened to be staying at the Beacon, at Olivia's invitation.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… the Farmhouse of Love—7:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"Liv?" Natalia attempted to coax Olivia from sleep with a light nudge against her shoulder. And then her hand slowly moved along the smooth skin of her arm, down to a shapely hip, and firm thigh. Even through the fabric of her pajama bottoms, she could feel the heat of Olivia's skin, and everything in her longed to touch.
"Humph…" Olivia grunted sleepily. "Five more minutes."
"Honey, we have to get up," Natalia quietly urged. "Jen just called. She's on her way over to get the kids."
Peeling one disgruntled eye open, Olivia caught sight of the alarm clock on her bedside table. The glaring blue numbers taunted her—seven thirty. "Fuck me runnin'," she groused, as she turned toward her lover, burying her face between Natalia's plump breasts. She suddenly decided that she really, really liked pregnant Natalia.
Natalia's lips formed a smirk, and she pulled Olivia close. "Is that an invitation?"
If Olivia was surprised by the raw sexual connotation of Natalia's response, she didn't show it. Despite her exhaustion, she grinned against Natalia's cleavage where it peeked out from beneath her low-cut t-shirt. And then she pressed a lingering kiss against the smooth, creamy flesh, drawing a groan of anticipation from Natalia. "Could be," she murmured. "But clearly not one for right now."
She sighed, and brushed wayward strands of chestnut from her face, as she found Natalia's gaze. "Didn't I give them the day off?"
"Yes, you did," Natalia acknowledged with a kiss. "And I was quite proud of you. But Tracy's on her way back to the police station to give her statement to that nice detective, and I think Jen just really needs to be with her boys right now."
Pushing herself up in the bed, Olivia nodded around a yawn. "I can understand that. How soon will she be here?"
"She just left the Beacon," Natalia reported, as she sat upright next to Olivia. Both of them leaned back into the pile of pillows that had collected against the headboard of their bed. They usually ended up there… or on the floor.
Calculating Natalia's response into minutes, Olivia smiled. "That gives us a half-hour, easy," she commented, as she pulled Natalia close.
Natalia grinned, and accepted Olivia's kiss. "That might give you a half-hour," she stated, emphasizing the owner of all that time. "But I smell like a walking orgasm, and I need a shower."
An eyebrow arched, as a slow, satisfied smirk trickled across Olivia's lips. "A walking orgasm, eh?"
"Oh, yes," Natalia purred. "A really long, fabulous one… that I can still feel all over my body right now, thanks to you and your little miracle gadget." The release she experienced at Olivia's fingertips last night caused waves of pleasure throughout her body, so intense that they still lingered in places she never imagined possible.
Olivia gulped in response to Natalia's comments, her eyes widening. "Really?" Natalia had never said anything like that to her before.
Natalia nodded, and leaned close, nuzzling against Olivia's ear. "Last night was incredible," she whispered. "And I can't wait to see what else you have hidden in that drawer over there."
The most tantalizing fluttering began deep in Olivia's body, and a slow smile spread across her face. "Date night," she announced with excited anticipation. "You and me, and the contents of that drawer."
Natalia blinked twice, and then her eyes lit up. "Really?"
Leaning close, Olivia nipped lightly at Natalia's lower lip. "Remember that request you had the other night?" She hadn't meant to push things this quickly, but Natalia had offered her an opening she couldn't refuse.
The slightest hint of a satisfied grin flickered at the corners of her mouth, as she grazed Olivia's lower lip with her tongue. "Oh, yeah," she murmured.
Flicking her tongue along the contour of Natalia's ear, Olivia nibbled at that spot—the one she knew drove Natalia crazy. "I have something that'll get me so deep inside you, fill you so completely, you'll swear we've become one body."
Natalia's breath caught in her chest, and she tangled her fingers in Olivia's hair, forcing their gazes to lock. "I can't wait to feel you inside me like that," she purred. And then her mouth grazed Olivia's, before tugging at Olivia's lower lip with her teeth, drawing a growl from deep within Olivia's throat. "You have no idea how much I wish we could do it right now."
"Mm… me too," Olivia whispered against Natalia's mouth, as they kissed. "But I want you all alone for this, so we can take our time, and not worry about how loud we get."
The grin that formed on Olivia's lips as she whispered into Natalia's mouth, drew a matching grin from Natalia. "Afraid we might get a little out of control?" she teased.
"Afraid?" Olivia murmured, as her tongue scraped against Natalia's. "No… more like excited, and… hopeful."
A low laugh tumbled from Natalia's lips into Olivia's mouth. "You're completely incorrigible, Olivia Spencer. And I love you madly."
Olivia grinned and kissed her again. "I love you more."
Somehow, Natalia highly doubted that was possible, but she didn't argue. She had far better ways of making use of their limited time. If she was going to smell like a walking orgasm, it might as well be a fresh one, she reasoned. And then her fingers were fumbling with the buttons on Olivia's pajama top, as she pushed Olivia down onto their bed, with the full intent of giving as good as she had received just a few hours prior.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Interrogation Room, Springfield Police Department—7:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
Ten minutes after parting ways with Jen, Tracy was sitting in the interrogation room once again. The cold concrete walls seemed to close in on her, and she distracted herself by absently tapping her fingertips against the cold surface of the metal table, as she awaited Detective Sargent Malloy's arrival. Several minutes later, Dani stepped into the room informing her that the detective would be with them shortly. Until then, Dani had a few things to go over with her.
Tracy nodded her understanding, as Dani took the seat next to her, and flipped the latches on her black leather briefcase. Tracy's eyes scanned the case, noting the rich texture of the leather and the smooth stitching, the way it seemed to mesh with the fabric as though it was innate, and she knew instinctively that the case was designer.
And then Tracy's gaze moved to the woman, herself. It didn't surprise her that the attorney was perfectly coifed, and dressed in a perfectly pressed linen suit, not a single blemish in sight. This woman came from money—and not just the kind of money she made as an attorney. No, the coffers ran much deeper than that, she surmised, and Tracy wondered about her story.
Completely aware of Tracy's ongoing assessment of her, Dani pulled several file folders from the case, and began to explain the procedures for giving a statement. She was accustomed to being sized up—it had been a common occurrence throughout her life, and thus, she never allowed it to interfere with the task at hand.
Not wanting to chance the case against her getting any further out of hand, Tracy abandoned her assessment of strikingly beautiful attorney, and listened intently to her meticulous instructions regarding how to respond to the detective's questions—and how not to respond.
Several minutes later, Langston entered the room with her usual air of authority, purposefully setting the tension level on the rise. It was always to her advantage to keep a suspect on edge, and she accomplished that feat with practiced ease.
Impeccably dressed, as always, her dark silk-blend trousers and matching jacket did little to mask the sheer physical power that lurked beneath the fabric; but she didn't look threatening to either woman, just competent and in control of herself and the situation.
Dropping a single file folder, a notepad, and a pen onto the dented table, she grasped the back of the chair. Pulling it from beneath the table, the legs of her cold, metal chair scraped across the concrete floor causing a cacophonous sound as she took a seat across from Tracy. "Good morning, Miss Jackson," she said squarely.
"Detective Malloy," Tracy acknowledged. "I wish I could say it's nice to see you again."
With a courteous nod, Langston replied, "Same here." She hated what she was about to do, but it had to be done. It was her job to grill a suspect, even if she did firmly believe in the person's innocence. Gwen has assured her last night that she hadn't crossed the boundary of professionalism in this case, and she wanted to ensure that it stayed that way.
Setting a handheld recorder on the table, she pressed the record button, and casually clasped her hands on the table in front of her. The practiced ease with which she moved issued a clear message that the recording of such interviews was standard procedure, and thus, there would be no argument. "I know this situation must be disconcerting for you," she said warmly, in an effort to build on the rapport they had shared during their initial encounter the night of Diane Martin's attack.
"It is, yes," Tracy agreed, feeling a sense of ease come over her. She liked the detective; felt safe with her. But Dani had warned her to stay on her guard. It didn't matter that she was innocent, trained interrogators knew how to get the information they were after, and they would twist it to fit their theory. Langston Malloy was a master at that, Danika knew from experience, and she didn't want her client getting caught up in the detective's snare.
Without further delay, Langston flipped through the contents of the file folder, pulling out a photograph. "Tell me what you know about this woman." Rather than asking a closed-ended question, she skillfully opened the conversation with an open-ended request for information, as she slid the photo across the table toward Tracy.
Grudgingly, Dani awarded Langston credit where it was due. Even when they were on opposite sides of a case, she just couldn't seem to help herself. She only wished they didn't always have to be on opposite sides now, but that just simply wasn't the case anymore.
Viewing the photo, Tracy noted that it was the same one Dani had shown her yesterday. "Her name is Toni. She used to be a student at Springfield U. I haven't seen her in years." Dani had instructed her to answer as straightforwardly as possible, and not to offer details unless specifically asked.
"So you do know her," Langston said, evenly. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"And yet you told the attorney in court yesterday, that you'd never heard of her." Langston's tone was matter-of-fact as she challenged Tracy's previous statement.
"I didn't recognize the name yesterday morning, no," Tracy answered.
"You don't know the name Antoinette Martin?"
"No, Ma'am," Tracy said.
"What name do you know her by?" Jesus, it was like pulling teeth! Danika had prepared her well, Langston silently noted. She was grudgingly impressed.
"I only knew her as Toni," Tracy answered. "I don't believe she ever mentioned her last name. If she did, I didn't remember it." It was evident to Langston that the last part of her statement was an afterthought.
"Tell me how you know her."
"Like I said, she was a student at Springfield U. I met her freshman year," Tracy answered forthrightly.
"So you met her in college," Langston restated, and then she skillfully attempted to move the conversation forward. "Tell me about any contact you had with her."
"Could you be more specific, please?" Dani requested, her tone cool, yet insistent.
Langston arched an eyebrow, as she assessed the woman. Clearly she was still on her game. She was putting a fast stop to any attempts at motivational interviewing. "How, specifically, did you know her?" she reworded.
"Through basketball," Tracy reported. "She joined a few pick-up games with my friends."
"So you were involved in physical activities with her," Langston ventured.
"Only basketball, on a court, with the rest of my teammates present," Tracy answered straightforwardly, putting an end to the detective's presumptive questioning.
So far, Dani had to admit she was impressed by her client's handling of the detective. She said nothing, as she continued monitoring their exchange.
"Did you have an intimate relationship with her?"
"No."
"Did you ever have any sort of intimate contact with her?"
"Define the term 'intimate' within the context of this question." Dani interjected, requesting clarification. It seemed to her the detective was asking the same question in several different ways, hoping to trip her client up. She wasn't surprised, of course, but she didn't like it.
"Have you ever kissed her?"
"She kissed me," Tracy answered, emphasizing who had done what to whom.
"Is there a difference, in your estimation?" Langston challenged.
"Yes, detective, there is," Tracy answered forthrightly. "The difference is: I didn't initiate it. And I didn't want it to happen."
"Are you saying she made an unsolicited sexual advance toward you?"
"Yes," Tracy confirmed.
"That's interesting." Langston's even tone gave nothing away, as she scribbled on her notepad. "Did you have sexual intercourse with her, consensual or otherwise?"
"No."
"Did you have any sort of sexual contact with her, whatsoever?"
"I think I've already answered that twice now," Tracy said, trying not to sound annoyed.
"Let's move this along, shall we?" Dani said. It wasn't a suggestion. "I don't want my client spending the entire day here."
Momentarily thwarted, Langston changed tactics. "Do you have any tattoos, birthmarks, or identifying scars, Miss Jackson?"
"Yes," Tracy answered.
"Describe them for me, in detail, including where they're located on your body," Langston requested, purposefully avoiding any leading comments.
"I have a tattoo of a red rose on the outer edge of my right shoulder blade," Tracy divulged. "It's for my grandmother. And… a scar on my right lower abdomen, from when I had my appendix removed when I was ten," she added. She paused for a moment, realizing where this was going. She was more pissed, than scared, now that she was certain she hadn't done anything wrong.
"Is there something else, Miss Jackson?" Langston pressed. She knew that there was, or she wouldn't have bothered with the question.
"Yes," Tracy nodded. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears, that she swore both her attorney and the detective could hear it. "I, uh… I have a birthmark on my left breast, near my nipple."
Leaning back in her chair, Langston pressed her fingertips together, as she nodded slowly. "A birthmark near your nipple," she parroted, her tone asking for confirmation.
"Yes, Ma'am," Tracy responded.
"If you've never had any intimate contact with the alleged victim, then how does she know about that birthmark?" Langston demanded.
"Really, Detective?" Danika interjected. Now she was annoyed.
Glancing at the attorney, Langston fixed her with a steely gaze. "Yes, Counselor. Really." She turned her attention back to her suspect. "Well, Miss Jackson?" she said, expectantly.
Looking up from her hands that were casually folded on the table in front of her, Tracy locked her gaze on Langston's. "I would imagine she saw it in the locker room after one of our games, Detective," she said, coolly. "I don't shower with my clothes on. Do you?"
Amused, Danika had to stifle a laugh.
Momentarily thwarted, but not the least bit deterred, Langston didn't miss a beat as she changed tactics yet again. She could always come back to the birthmark later—when the suspect wasn't expecting it. "Tell me about the events of the night of Friday, December 5, 2003," she requested. Her tone was neither encouraging nor condemning.
Taking a deep breath, Tracy prepared to relay the story once again. And then, moment by moment, she walked Langston through the events that transpired the evening of that party—the only college party she had ever attended. Admitting that she didn't remember certain things was tantamount to saying she was guilty, and thus, Dani interrupted before Tracy was forced to answer any questions related to things that she didn't remember personally; meaning anything she had learned through their talk with Ashlee the evening prior.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Bennett Thomas's Residence—10:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"What time do you have to be in today?" Doris asked lazily, as a warm mouth lightly skimmed the underside of her left breast.
"I cleared my calendar," Bennett murmured against silky skin. "I was hoping we could spend the day in bed."
Doris grinned. "You read my mind," she commented. Her fingers tangled in soft, dark locks at the base of Bennett's neck, and a soft groan fell from her lips, as Bennett's tongue skated across an erect nipple.
"I was hoping that was the case," Bennett murmured.
Lingering at Doris's breasts, she reveled in the supple softness as her mouth moved along the warm skin, and teased those taut nipples, just as she had the first time they made love more than twenty-five years prior.
She nibbled and suckled until Doris's breathing turned ragged, and then she traveled further down, her mouth slowly navigating across Doris's torso. Doris's body, while marked by the obvious signs of aging, and pregnancy and childbirth, not unlike Bennett's own, was still as fascinating and arousing to her now as it had been that first time, and she dallied unapologetically in the sensuality of this beautiful female form.
Lovingly, Bennett's fingertips fluttered across the scar that marked Ashlee's entrance into the world. It had faded with time, of course, but it was there. And contemplating it—and what it represented—brought tears to Bennett's eyes.
"Please don't," Doris beseeched, her voice filled with vulnerability, as she pushed Bennett's fingertips away from the scar.
"Is it still sensitive?" Bennett asked caringly. She knew it was unlikely, but not entirely impossible.
"No…" Doris answered. "I just… I don't…" She glanced toward the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, avoiding Bennett's intent gaze.
Under the cloak of darkness, Doris felt uninhibited, allowing Bennett to explore her body at will. But it was morning now, and the light was streaming in through the sheer curtains that covered Bennett's bedroom windows. It illuminated every stretchmark, every wrinkle, every flaw on her body, and Doris felt woefully exposed, vulnerable to Bennett in a way she hadn't in years.
Sliding up alongside her lover, Bennett gently touched her face, drawing that arresting blue gaze back into her own. "What is it, then?"
"My body is… different now," Doris said self-consciously. It hadn't ever mattered when they were just fucking, or on the rare occasion when they were making love in the dark. But the light of day changed everything, exposed her every imperfection, and Doris couldn't help but feel insecure.
Bennett arched an eyebrow. "And mine isn't?" she said rhetorically.
"It's not the same," Doris countered.
"Of course it is, DJ," Bennett countered. "I've put on at least twenty pounds, thanks to menopause. And that's on top of the baby weight I never managed to lose—which is kind of pathetic, given that my baby is twenty-one now. My hips are wider, because of natural childbirth. And my breasts aren't exactly perky anymore."
"Neither are mine," Doris said grimly. "And I have this ugly scar…"
"So what?" Bennett challenged. Lightly, her hand caressed Doris's skin. "You are just as beautiful to me today, as you were the first time we made love," she whispered reassuringly.
A slight smile flickered across Doris's lips. "God, do you remember that night?" Her tone was filled with wistfulness.
"Like it was yesterday," Bennett answered, as she brushed her lips against Doris's. "I can't tell you how many times I've relived that night, DJ. It's what got me through the longest, loneliest nights without you."
"Me too," Doris admitted sadly.
Reaching out, Bennett brushed wayward strands of light brown hair from Doris's face, affectionately. "I promise you, DJ, there won't be any more lonely nights. Not for either one of us."
Wanting so much to take Bennett at her word, Doris offered what she hoped was an encouraging smile. And she breathed a sigh of relief when Bennett appeared to accept without question.
Leaning down, Bennett tenderly kissed the scar that had sparked their conversation. "I wish I had been there, DJ," she whispered. "Been a part of her birth… and her life."
Doris raked her fingers through Bennett's thick, dark locks again, the palm of her hand settling at the nape of Bennett's neck. "I wish the same for myself with your girls," she confessed.
"You were an active participant in Rian's conception, you know," Bennett whispered as she gazed into Doris's eyes.
"That's ridiculous," Doris scoffed.
"No, it isn't," Bennett insisted, as she traced along Doris's jawline with a fingertip. "I know exactly what day it happened, and… you and I, we made love that day. I came to you, after… and…"
"You came to me, after Clay made love to you?" Doris wasn't sure if she should feel more hurt… or angry.
"After Clay had sex with me," Bennett gently, but firmly, corrected. "I never made love with him, DJ. Only you… And yes, I came to you after, because sex with him was always so lonely and unfulfilling. Maybe it was wrong of me, but I missed you, and I needed you so much."
Bennett's explanation calmed Doris, and she settled again beneath the pressure of Bennett's body, which was draped partially across her own. "I guess I can understand that," she relented.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you by telling you that," Bennett said apologetically.
"Don't ever apologize for being truthful with me, BJ," Doris replied. "I prefer the harsh truth to a kind lie. Those always hurt more in the end."
"Yes, they do," Bennett agreed solemnly. She, of all people, understood that, given the way her marriage ended.
Fingertips skimmed along Bennett's spine, as Doris reflected back to that night with Bennett. She had been surprised to find the woman on her doorstep so late at night, but despite her resolve to stay away, she hadn't hesitated to let her in. "That was the last time we made love before I left Charleston," she remembered.
"Yes," Bennett confirmed, with a deep sense of sadness in her tone. "And nine months later, I called to tell you about your namesake."
"I wanted so much to be a part of her life," Doris barely managed around the lump that had formed in her throat. "I wanted to raise her with you."
"I wanted that too," Bennett confessed. "More than anything. And I'm sorry we didn't have the life we both wanted. It was entirely my fault."
"No, it wasn't," Doris countered. "I could've fought harder for you."
"It wouldn't have done you any good, DJ," Bennett said straightforwardly. "As much as I loved you, I was just too damned scared of my mother's wrath."
"Why did it take you so long to tell me?" Doris asked quietly.
"Tell you that I love you?" Bennett sought clarification.
"Yeah," Doris confirmed.
"I told you now because I finally feel like I have the right," Bennett answered. "I'm finally free of my parents' expectations, and I don't feel like Clay's property anymore."
"His property?" Doris parroted.
"My parents, especially my mother, considered me his property long before we married," Bennett explained. "Being with you was my one little bit of freedom in a world where I felt imprisoned by their expectations. But I didn't have the right to tell you then, how much I loved you. You deserved so much more than I could ever give you," she said with a deep sense of regret. "You still do."
"Don't you know, BJ?" Doris murmured, as tears cascaded down her cheeks. "All I've ever wanted in this world was to be with you. I wanted it so much that I was willing to accept whatever you could give me, and never ask for more." Regardless of how pathetic that made her, it was the truth.
"But you deserved better than that," Bennett insisted. "You deserved to have a real life, a real relationship, a real family. Not just stolen moments during social events, and the occasional weekend here and there." She paused for a moment, realizing the consequences of her choices. And hot tears of regret formed in her slate gray eyes. "I've been so unfair to you, DJ. And I'm so sorry for that."
Doris gave her a quizzical look, and Bennett offered explanation. "You left Charleston to get away from me, to try to move on with your life. And instead of honoring that, I followed you here, and made things harder for you. I didn't give you a chance to move on, to find someone new… Probably, because I couldn't bear the thought of it. And that was so selfish of me, and I…" Her emotions began to overwhelm her, as she gazed into Doris's teary blue eyes. "God, DJ, can you ever forgive me?"
Emotions were running out of control for Doris, as well. Never in her life had she expected to hear Bennett acknowledge feelings Doris had never even expressed to her. Had she forgotten how well Bennett could read her? Surely not! But here she was, listening to Bennett read her like her favorite book.
Gently, she brushed her fingertips against Bennett's cheek. "I forgave you a long time ago," she whispered. "But I won't lie to you… I'm scared."
"Scared of?"
"Of believing this is for real," Doris confessed. "Of believing you won't change your mind."
"I can't blame you for that, Darling," Bennett soothed. "My track record is terrible when it comes to hurting you. And I am truly sorry for that," she said penitently. "I wish I knew how to make it up to you."
"You don't have to make it up to me, BJ," Doris said. "You just have to swear you won't leave me again."
"I swear to you, DJ. Never again," Bennett solemnly vowed.
The expression in Bennett's eyes, the sincerity in her tone, begged Doris to believe her. And Doris wanted to do just exactly that; but she wasn't quite ready to allow herself to be convinced. "But what about your career?"
"I can deal with the backlash," Bennett answered reassuringly. "I'm not the first sitting judge who's gay or lesbian, and I certainly won't be the last." She turned the tables on Doris. "What about you? Aren't you up for reelection in a couple of years?"
"By then all the hype will have died down," Doris said, passively. She really wasn't all that concerned about it. Alan would likely be her biggest problem, and she had long-since learned how to deal with him. "If you can handle it, so can I."
"I can handle anything, as long as you're by my side," Bennett quietly assured.
And finally, despite her misgivings, Doris just couldn't help but give in. "So… we're really going to do this?" she sought confirmation one more time. "We're going to be together, come out publicly once my friends are in the clear?"
"Yes," Bennett declared. "It's what I want more than anything—as long as it's what you want, too."
"I do," Doris admitted. "So the minute this case is resolved, we'll tell the girls," she declared.
"Absolutely," Bennett agreed. "And then we'll throw a coming out party, the likes of which this town has never seen."
The excitement grew with each passing comment, and both of them knew in their hearts it was really going to happen this time.
"We can throw it at the Beacon," Doris decided. "Olivia Spencer loves to throw a good party."
Pleased beyond words, Bennett grinned. "So I've heard," she said drolly.
Doris laughed. "She can be abrasive, to be certain," she granted. "But I think you'll really like her, once you get to know her."
"I caught a glimpse of the kind of friend she is in my courtroom yesterday," Bennett shared. "And I agree with you. The woman I saw yesterday, was not who I expected, given what I know of her."
"I won't say she's all bark and no bite," Doris warned. "There's plenty of bite when she's cornered. But she's not like that once she lets her guard down with you." Falling quiet, she contemplated for a moment. "I guess she's a lot like me in that respect."
"Yes," Bennett agreed. It hadn't been lost on her over the years, the change in Doris's demeanor that had been caused by Bennett's own betrayal. In the beginning, Doris had been a warm, loving person, filled with compassion. And then she changed; became bitter and angry. Bennett felt guilty beyond words for that, and hoped that someday she could find a way to undo the damage she had caused. "I can see that."
Doris nodded, a silence cloaking the room, as her thoughts turned back to their personal lives. "I know Rian will be okay with us, but what do you think Lauren will say?" she wondered of Bennett's younger daughter.
Bennett smiled. "They both know about me now, so I don't think either of them will be surprised to hear that I'm in a relationship. But they might be a little surprised that it's with you. I think once they know, all the pieces will fall together for them," she answered. "What about Ashlee?"
"Well, obviously, Ashlee doesn't know about us, but she has mentioned that we tend to congregate in social situations," Doris reported. "So I don't think she'll be all that surprised." She thought about that for a moment, and briefly contemplated adding a rebuttal. But then she decided against it, and instead, she just smiled. "Regardless, I know she'll be happy for me—and for us."
"Same with my girls," Bennett agreed. Gently, she touched Doris's face, allowing her fingertips to linger along a smooth cheek. "I'm happy for us too, Darling," she whispered.
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Doris replied.
Bennett smirked. "Shall I replace them with something else?" she asked, naughtily.
Doris's laughter filled the room, her blue eyes dancing with mirth. "Yes, my love. You shall."
Taking Doris's face into her hands, Bennett kissed her soundly then, sealing their promise of a future together. And as their kisses turned to mutual caresses, she lowered Doris back down onto the bed, where she filled both of their mouths with all sorts of delectable things, as she took her time, making love with her the way Doris had always deserved.
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Interrogation Room, Springfield Police Department—11:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
All told, it was a grueling four hours of testimony interspersed with questions—many times the same ones, presented in different ways—and the occasional heated exchange between the detective and the attorney. And when Tracy was finished, she felt physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.
And then, with Tracy at her weakest and most vulnerable, calculatingly, Langston moved on to the allegations regarding the boys. "Have you ever touched either Jacob or Dylan Morgan in an inappropriate way?" she asked straightforwardly.
Immediately, Dani was on guard again. She wouldn't allow this line of questioning to progress very far.
Tracy met Langston's gaze, holding it steadily. "I'm a lesbian, not a pedophile, Detective Malloy," she said evenly. "Surely you can appreciate the distinction."
The tacit implication in Tracy's comment didn't go unnoticed by the detective, and she offered a hint of a smile. "Yes, Miss Jackson. I can. But you didn't answer my question."
"No, Detective," Tracy said firmly. "I have never touched my sons in an inappropriate way."
"You've never touched their genitals?" Langston pressed. Anything to give her an opening. She hated having to do that, but it was her job to protect those children.
"Don't answer that, Tracy," Dani calmly directed. She knew that even an innocent response such as having touched them while giving them a bath could, and probably would, be used to implicate her in something far more heinous. She wouldn't allow that door to be opened. Not at any cost.
"But I've never…"
Dani raised her hand, halting Tracy's comment. "Just don't answer it." She directed her intense, dark gaze toward the detective. "Miss Jackson has not been charged with a crime where her sons are concerned, Detective. And you damned well know it," she snapped, stressing the abbreviated title as if it were a weapon. She knew it was a slap in the face to willfully ignore Langston's rank as a sergeant, but the detective had pissed her off. "I won't allow you to go on a fishing expedition. Please limit your questions to the alleged incident involving Antoinette Martin."
Langston nodded. She knew she was pushing the boundaries, but she had to try. "Very well, Counselor," she said, tersely. Her dark blue eyes were sharp with displeasure, as she glared at the attorney. The woman was positively maddening! But she was also in the right to stop that line of questioning, Langston begrudgingly granted to herself. "This interview is over."
Noting the strained exchange that had just transpired, Tracy wondered, not for the first time, what the story was between the two women.
Reaching over, Langston grasped the digital voice recorder in her hand. Frustrated, she pressed the stop button, effectively halting the chronicling of their conversation. And as she gathered her documentation, she stood, and nodded toward Tracy. The tone of her voice was calmer then, indicating that she had cooled from moments earlier, as she thanked Tracy for her cooperation, and instructed her not to leave town.
Tracy assured her that she had no intentions of leaving, and again, Langston nodded in response. "Very well. I'll be in touch."
"Thank you, Detective Sargent Malloy," Dani said, with more civility than she felt.
Regarding the attorney with a cool, detached gaze, Langston retrieved her pile of folders from the table. And without a word, she exited the room in much the same way as she had arrived.
"Let's get out of here," Dani said to Tracy as she watched the detective leave. "We need to figure out how Toni Martin is connected to your fiancée's former father-in-law. And we need to do it fast."
Releasing a long, slow sigh, Tracy pushed her chair back, and stood. "I couldn't agree with you more," she said, determinedly, as the wobbly metal legs scraped across the concrete floor when she pushed the chair back in. "Where do we begin?"
Thursday, June 18, 2009… Springfield Police Department—12:00 p.m. Central Daylight Time
Danika had a few ideas, but she couldn't share them with her client. Not yet, anyway. So she steered the conversation elsewhere, as she directed Tracy toward the main entrance of the precinct. "Listen," she said. "I have a few things to clear up here before I head back to the hotel. Meet you back there in an hour or so?" She knew it wouldn't be an issue because her client's fiancée planned to pick her up when they were finished.
"Sounds good," Tracy readily agreed. "Jen's already here anyway." She lifted her phone as if to offer proof, and Dani nodded.
"Perfect," Dani declared. "I'll buzz the penthouse suite when I get there."
Reaching out, Tracy lightly touched Dani's arm, garnering her attention before she could walk away.
Turning back toward her, Dani met Tracy's dark, intense gaze. "Is there any chance I'll get to sleep in my own bed tonight?" she asked in a hopeful tone.
Dani frowned and shook her head. "I'm afraid the legal system doesn't work that fast," she informed, ruefully. "The D.A. has to decide, based upon Toni Martin's initial report, and the testimony we have from you and Ashlee, if the evidence is sufficient enough to get a conviction."
Quite frankly, Dani knew that assessment should have been made prior to an arrest warrant even being issued. That's how she knew there was something far deeper going on with this case. But she didn't tell her client that. There was no sense stirring things up until she knew what was really going on—and who was behind it on an administrative level within the criminal justice system. She was hoping, despite the animosity that Langston obviously still held toward her, that the detective would help her unravel the mystery. Langston never could pass up a good mystery—or a cunning plot—especially if it involved criminal activity amongst those who were commissioned to serve and protect.
"What do you think my chances are at this point?" Tracy's voice was shaking as she posed the question. She felt like her whole future hung in the balance between that question, and Dani's answer.
"No physical evidence. Your word against hers. A witness who swears you were never alone with the alleged victim on the night in question…" Dani checked off the evidence—or lack thereof. "I'd say your chances are decent that the D.A. won't pursue this any farther." Unless he's somehow tangled up in this," she thought, but did not voice. "But we'd be better off if we had proof of Morgan's involvement. Or at least some idea as to why an arrest warrant was issued without any tangible evidence against you."
Tracy nodded. "I understand," she said, resignedly.
"I'm sorry, Tracy," Dani empathized. "I wish I could give you more positive news."
"Yeah," Tracy sighed. "Me too."
Deflated, she nodded and thanked her attorney. And then she quickly made her way through the heavy glass doors, and out to the car where Jen was waiting to greet her.
After walking Tracy out to main entrance, where Jen was waiting to pick her up, Danika headed back toward the squad room. She caught up with Langston in the hallway outside the police department interrogation room.
"I thought you left," Langston said, coolly. Slowly, her eyes perused the attorney's smooth, olive complexion. It was the first time she had actually allowed herself the indulgence since Danika strolled through the precinct doors, like a woman on a mission, the afternoon prior. The woman was as stunning as ever, Langston grudgingly noted.
"We need to talk." Danika's voice was a low mumble.
"Nothing good ever comes of that statement," Langston commented dryly.
Dani felt the full weight of the remark, and the pang of old guilt resonated deep within her. She couldn't go back and undo what she had done—even if there had been any choice in the matter. But she had a job to do now. Her client deserved the best she had to offer, and there was no place for guilt in the process. Seemingly out of nowhere, for a split second, guilt morphed into anger—it was the only way to push through this. And she responded accordingly.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Langston, are you ever gonna let it go?" She hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but she was frustrated, and Langston had always been her safe place when it came to emotions. She used to be that safe place for Langston, too. But that was before…
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Langston snapped. "What if our roles had been reversed? Could you just let it go?"
"You know I didn't have a choice," Dani insisted, her tone rife with apology. She knew Langston had a point, and she wished, more than anything, she could take back both words and deeds.
"There's always a choice, Danika," Langston countered accusingly.
Dani reached out, attempting to touch Langston's arm. "I walked away, Lang," she said softly.
Langston flinched at her touch, and instinctively pulled away. "Not nearly soon enough," she retorted angrily.
"Dammit, Langston, I need your help here," Dani said with urgency. "Can we just put the past aside for one goddamn minute?"
"What do you want from me?" Langston asked, with cold disinterest.
Even after all the years of pain that had distanced them, it still took Danika aback to see that flash of anger in Langston's usually warm, blue eyes. "Something's not right here, Lang," she asserted. "There are too many holes in this story; too many unanswered questions. I think there's something else going on. Something that goes way beyond a sexual assault allegation."
"What exactly are you saying?" Langston queried, her voice muffled, but gruff, as she leaned closer to the attorney to ensure they wouldn't be overheard.
Grasping Langston's arm, Dani tugged gently.
The moment Dani's hand touched her jacket sleeve, Langston's eyes snapped down to the point of contact.
Immediately, Dani released her hold. Langston's response was like a stab to the heart. It told her unequivocally that she had no right to touch. Not anymore. A look of disappointment eclipsed her usually vibrant dark eyes, and resignedly, she motioned Langston toward the interrogation room.
Together, they stepped inside, and Dani closed the door. "I'm saying that I think there's some sort of conspiracy here. And I think it involves the higher-ups."
"We're not in Chicago, Dani," Langston reminded. She leaned back against the edge of the cold metal table, burying her hands in her pockets with an air of nonchalance she did not feel. "Things are different here."
"Are they really?" Danika challenged, one determined eyebrow arched.
When Langston didn't respond, Danika continued making her case. "Don't you find it odd that an arrest warrant was issued without any tangible evidence?" she questioned. "There's nothing, Lang. Nothing," she emphasized. "Not one goddamn thing."
Raking her fingers through her coal-black hair, Langston released a slow sigh of resignation. "Yes," she agreed. "I know."
"And I'm sorry, but don't you find it a bit peculiar that my client's accuser is the daughter of the woman who attacked her not two months ago?" She had learned that bit of information from Tracy just that morning, and she found it not only shocking, but highly suspicious. But she still didn't know how it fit into the context of the whole situation. That was the next task on her agenda—to figure out not only how, but why.
Langston just stood there, staring at her; motionless. She knew Dani was right, but she still had a job to do.
"Aren't you going to say something?" Dani sounded understandably impatient, as the toe of her black Gucci pumps tapped against the concrete.
Langston's gaze followed the sound, and she felt the slightest stirring in her belly as it trailed along Danika's sleek, toned body down to those shoes. The mere sight of the woman had always been ridiculously arousing to her, and that physical attraction only intensified as they aged into adulthood. But some things could never be forgiven… or forgotten.
Dani smirked as she noted the swirl of emotions that eclipsed Langston's clear blue eyes. She didn't care how much Langston Malloy denied it, the attraction was still there. And so was the emotional connection they had always shared. That's why Langston fought so hard to keep her at bay.
The knowing look in Dani's eyes wasn't lost on Langston, but she refused to engage her in the all-too-familiar battle of wills. Purposefully, she forced the physical response aside, and met that intense dark gaze, squarely. "What do you want me to say?" she shrugged. "I'm a cop, Dani. I have to work the case, regardless of what I think, personally."
Dani's phone rang before she could respond to Langston's comment. Slipping it from the pocket of her silk-blend trousers, she glanced at the caller I.D. "Excuse me for a moment," she said to Langston. "I have to take this."
Langston nodded, as Dani hit the button to accept the incoming call. "Tell me you have something."
And then, as she listened intently to the information being delivered through the line, a slow, steady smile spread across her face. Jackpot. She thanked the caller, made note that she would be in touch within the hour, and disconnected the line.
Throughout the call, where the counselor did little except to listen, the detective watched her with keen interest. She had always been able to read Danika Kováč like a book, and whatever it was that she had just heard, it had changed the course of this investigation.
"What was that all about?" Langston asked, with an air of disinterest she didn't actually feel.
"You're a cop, right?" Dani asked rhetorically, throwing Langston's own words back at her. "You have to work the case?"
Despite herself, Langston chuckled softly. "Yes, Dani, I have to work the case."
"Good," Dani declared. "Because I have a lead that'll blow your mind."
Arching an eyebrow, Langston asked the question without use of words.
Allowing the familiarity of unspoken communication between them to warm her, Dani smiled at the detective as she pocketed her phone. "Just come with me," she said, grasping Langston's arm without forethought. "We have a lot of work to do."
TBC in Chapter 14.17…