Disclaimer: see first chapter
A/N: Contrary to popular belief, I have not abandoned this story. I'll admit, I have kind of lost sight of where I was originally going with it, but I've got at least two more chapters planned out in my head, and I'm hoping that things take off from there; besides, most of my stories end up in a different place then where I originally planned when I first set out to write them. I appreciate everyone who has read/reviewed this story, and I apologize for the long wait between chapters!
Sara refused to let Nick help her down to the car, so he had to settle for walking behind her, close enough so that he hoped he could stop her if she started to tumble forward. She had donned a hooded sweatshirt that came up high enough to conceal most of the bruising around her neck, trying to look as normal as possible. It was mostly in vain; one look at her face erased any doubt that anything had happened, the dark bruising around her eye and cheek more evident than the night before.
Once they made it to the car, Sara shoved her sunglasses on and leaned her head slightly forward, so that her hair hid most of her face. The drive to the lab was punctuated only by the music filtering in from Nick's radio, tuned to the local country station. Usually Sara would mock him or change the channel herself, but this time she kept her gaze low and directed outside the passenger window.
By the time they arrived, Sara had worked her nerves up pretty well, hobbling down the hallway of the Las Vegas Police Department with her arms wrapped around herself protectively. Nick tried to shield her from most of the offices, walking on the side most visible to the bullpen and resting his hand on her back. Luckily, it seemed like most of the dayshift was either out on assignment or in a meeting, and Nick was able to deter the few stares they did receive with a scathing look. There was no question that news of what had happened had already spread through both the department and the lab, but Nick was going to make sure that no one around him was caught spreading idle gossip.
Detective Reynolds was waiting for them at his desk, and quickly ushered the pair into Brass's office.
"There's no need for an interrogation room, and this way we'll have a little more privacy," Reynolds offered as an explanation as Sara settled herself awkwardly into one of the chairs in front of Brass's desk.
Nick glanced over at the chair next to Sara, and then over to her, remembering her asking him to leave the hospital room the previous night. "Do you want me to wait outside?" He searched her eyes, his voice low and somewhat awkward. Nick wasn't inclined to leave her alone, but if she didn't want him there, he couldn't really argue.
Sara shook her head, her eyes anxious. Nick sighed and dropped down into the chair next to her, turning to face Detective Reynolds, who was perched somewhat precariously on the edge of the desk.
"Now Ms. Sidle, first off, I want to let you know that no charges are going to be filed. We've determined that Vincent Trelling's death was the result of self defense on your part."
Nick let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding as he glanced over at Sara. She sat composed, her expression unreadable. In fact, her face hadn't registered any emotion, except when Reynolds used the name, where she momentarily froze.
"That's not what you brought me down here to tell me," she replied quietly after the news sunk in.
"No ma'am, you're right. During the course of the investigation, several things came to light about Mr. Trelling…"
Nick's ears perked up immediately. This had to be the development that Catherine had alluded to in their earlier conversation. "What kind of things? What does this have to do with Sara?" Detective Reynolds shot Nick a glare, a glare that Sara seemed to catch.
"What kind of things? And what does it have to do with me?" Sara repeated, a slight edge to her voice. Nick wasn't sure whether to be concerned or to smirk at Sara's response.
Detective Reynolds took a deep breath, and it was just then that Nick realized how stressed the man appeared. His clothes appeared rumpled and vaguely like the ones Nick noticed him wearing the night before. His thinning hair was disheveled, and his face flushed. "Now I know we went over some of this stuff last night Ms. Sidle, but I'm going to ask you some questions about Vincent. How did you two meet?"
"We met at Starbucks…we started talking, he bought me coffee. Told me that he had moved to Vegas when his firm was hired to promote the opening of one of the new casinos, and he invited me to the opening."
"How long ago was that?"
Sara sighed. "About a month, I guess. We went out a couple times, mostly my nights off."
"Had you ever been to his home before last night?"
Sara nodded, her fingers playing with the frayed cuffs on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "Once, he forgot his wallet, so we stopped on the way to dinner, and then, uh, the last time we went out, we ended up back there…"
Reynolds fingers curled around the edge of Brass's desk. "How serious were things between the two of you?"
Nick had had enough of this. "Look Reynolds, what are you trying to get at? None of this matters; how long she knew him, how serious things were. As soon as she said no, he should have stopped. That matters, and that's it."
"I'm not saying…"
Nick cut him off. It had been a very long, emotional night, and Nick wanted to yell at someone. Since he couldn't, and wouldn't, yell at Sara and Vincent Trelling was currently unavailable to beat into a bloody pulp, Nick settled for the closest person to vent out his frustration. "I really don't see how any of this is relevant to anything. It was self defense, and none of these questions are things you haven't already asked her, or something that you couldn't have stopped by and asked. But no, you drag her down here instead. Now, unless this starts getting relevant, I'm taking her home…she doesn't need this."
Nick started to stand, but stopped when he felt Sara's hand grasp at his forearm. "Nick, it's okay."
"I know you're both frustrated, and upset, but I promise that there is a point to all of this. I've got a few more questions, and if you can't handle that Stokes, I suggest you wait outside." Reynolds voice was firm as he gestured towards the door. Nick glanced over at Sara, seeing the anxiety in her eyes, and he immediately felt bad for making the situation worse. Though he would hold Reynolds to just a few more questions.
"Just get to the point," he muttered, settling himself back into the chair.
"Alright Ms. Sidle…I know we did talk about it a little last night, but how serious were things between you two?"
Sara shrugged. "We were dating…I wasn't seeing anyone else, and I don't think he was either, but I guess that doesn't mean he wasn't…wouldn't be the first time I was wrong about something like that." She twisted her hands nervously in her lap as the two men gazed at her with concern. Nick hoped that Reynolds would get to the point soon; he wasn't sure how much more of this Sara could endure that afternoon.
Detective Reynolds took a deep breath and shot a warning glance in Nick's direction before his next question. "Was he ever violent?"
Nick waited for Sara to say no and for Detective Reynolds to move on to his next question, but when that answer didn't come, Nick's head turned towards Sara. Her eyes were darting around the room, never focusing on anything for more than a few seconds as her fingers buried themselves inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
"Sara…" Nick's head turned at the sound of his voice, but her eyes refused to meet his. "Did he ever lay a hand on you? Sara?" Nick could feel his anger returning as he imagined Trelling raising a hand to her, or worse.
"No, nothing like that, at least before last night." Sara paused briefly as a stray tear escaped, obviously reliving a bit of what had happened. She wiped it away hastily and continued. "But he had a temper…yelling at waitresses and valets, road rage…that kind of thing. I was starting to think that he might…but I still didn't break it off…"
"Ms. Sidle, from what we've gathered, he was quite the charmer. He knew the right things to say, the right gestures."
"I should have known better," she whispered harshly, pulling her arms closer around her. "And I think Nick was right…what the hell does any of this have to do with me?" Nick could tell that Sara was getting frustrated, and that if Reynolds didn't get to his point, and quickly, she would either storm out or shut down on both of them completely. He resisted the urge to reach out and take her hand or rub her arm, knowing she wouldn't take the gesture well at the moment.
Reynolds sighed, adjusting his tie before he answered. "During the course of the investigation, we discovered that Vincent Trelling was not in fact Vincent Trelling, but Ryan Woodward. And this wasn't the first time he attacked someone…but you seem to be the only woman that lived to tell us what happened."
