Chapter 27
Step by Step
Ever since Miss Babcock's return, working around the clock had become, much to Detective Lane's annoyance, her new normal. There was simply too much work to be done. Sorting through the evidence, starting to build up a case and tracking down Thomas Jones were some of the things she and her team and to deal with over the course of the past weeks. Regrettably, finding Jones was proving easier said than done. Lane hated to admit it, but the bastard seemed to have vanished into thin air! He had clearly given his eventual escape plan a lot of thought, which had left her department a number of steps behind.
His parents – Mr and Mrs Jones – had come into the station the moment they'd found out about what Thomas had done and they'd given her all the information they possessed on him. Lane had pored over stacks of financial documents and property deals, dispatched teams to search for Thomas at all his family's properties, and she'd even ordered for her men to check storage units that were in his name!
Still, she'd come up with nothing. Nada. No new leads. Lane, as any other seasoned cop, knew this wasn't good news. The last thing she wanted, was for this case to turn cold. She wouldn't forgive herself if it did…
Just like she wouldn't forgive herself if anything happened to Miss Babcock, right in this very moment. Her men had reported her leaving the apartment building with her dog, running and looking like she'd seen several dozen ghosts, and they'd managed to follow her to a small café a few blocks away.
They'd been keeping an eye on her from across the street, making sure she didn't take off again, but she'd told a couple of them to go back to the building. They couldn't leave it unprotected if Thomas had found out where she'd gone and decided to show his face. Besides, she didn't want a large group of guys hanging around too close outside a café to come across as intimidating.
She was on her way herself, anyway. She'd be able to take care of everything, and get Miss Babcock back home before too much time had passed. Lane could only imagine how the family would be feeling – they all had to know their daughter and sister and friend was missing again, by now...
Well, maybe she wasn't technically missing, at that precise moment in time. It was difficult for a person to be missing when the people who had been instructed to keep said person safe could see them from where they were stood. And in C.C.'s case, it was made twice as hard by the fact that Lane could also see her, as she pulled up in her car. She waved away her men as she pulled in. It was the signal for them to go. She knew that she could handle it from there.
C.C. didn't see them going. Good; it might've made her worried to the point of bolting, if they'd stuck around much longer and she'd noticed.
Even through both the car window and the cafe window, it was easy enough to tell that she was planning her next move. Not that she looked like she'd gotten very far – she was absentmindedly stroking her dog, who was sat like the tiniest, fluffiest, wrong-species Sphinx on her lap, while picking at a plate of food with a fork in her other hand.
Sighing, Lane stopped and leaned forward on the steering wheel, just watching the sad scene play out for a moment. The notion that some creep had hurt her badly enough that she now thought even running away from her family was a good idea was...
The detective shuddered involuntarily. She really was going to get some satisfaction slapping the cuffs on Thomas. And she might not have been the type to really get rough, but this time if there was a confrontation first, then all the better.
The bastard deserved what was coming to him, and it would make her feel just that tiny bit more satisfied if what was coming to him was a fist or a shoe or a heavy boot.
Considering what he'd done to C.C., it was only fair that he got a taste of his own medicine. The producer had had to suffer for far too long, so it felt right to Lane that a little bit of poetic justice should happen. She wouldn't exactly win any police awards for thinking that way, but call her human – she liked knowing that the bad guy had truly been beaten and that the innocent people he'd hurt would eventually get their happily ever after.
And C.C. was on her way to getting hers, with the right support, some help, and the love of her closest friends and family...
Lane was so deep in thinking about it that she almost missed her phone buzzing away in her pocket.
Grabbing it just in time, she opened it up and answered, "Lane speaking."
"Detective Lane?" the immediately concerned voice of Niles Brightmore was a familiar one, at this stage. "We need your help. Miss Babcock has disappeared...of her own accord, this time."
The poor man did sound worried half to death. It was best to just come out and tell him, rather than asking any of the usual questions – what would be the point, anyway?
"Oh, I know she isn't in the penthouse," she replied. "I can see her right now, in front of me."
"I beg your pardon...?!"
"She's at a coffee shop near the penthouse," explained the detective. "My men saw her coming out of the building, followed her here and let me know where she was."
There was a short silence at the other end of the line, and then, a long, sigh of relief.
"Thank God she's alright…!" Niles said, every muscle in his body probably relaxing down the other end of the line.
"What happened?" Lane asked. "Did you see what made her run out?"
"I saw what happened, but I couldn't for the life of me tell you what made her specifically react the way that she did," the butler replied sadly. Something in his tone made it sound like he was blaming himself for the whole thing. "One moment, her father was asking her about having tea or coffee, the next she was screaming about no one touching her and everyone leaving her alone…! She ran off to lock herself in the bathroom, but by the time we went to check on her, she'd gone. We checked the whole penthouse!"
The detective mulled it all over while he explained. Something still felt like it was missing, but she didn't expect the butler to know exactly what. It could be any number of things, all related to what C.C. had gone through.
"I see."
"Which café is she in? I can come and get her if need be?" the butler's question again made it sound like he blamed himself, and was desperately seeking to make reparations.
"No," Lane said, perhaps a little too forcefully. "Niles, she ran away for a reason. She probably needs some space and to talk to someone from outside of her inner circle."
Again, there was silence, before Niles came on again, sounding ashamed.
"Oh God, yes. You're right…of course you're right…!"
Lane nodded to herself at Niles' realisation and agreement. He didn't have to worry. He'd come to trust he over the past few months, and she wasn't going to let him down. She would talk some sense into Miss Babcock and, when she was a little calmer, she'd drive her back to the penthouse.
The poor woman was haunted by ghosts that no one but her would ever understand. Ghosts of a real-life nightmare she'd had to endure for far too long.
"I'm sorry, Detective Lane. I shouldn't have suggested it – you take all the time you need to talk to her."
The detective almost smiled at the restraint he was showing. She could tell he was dying to practically fly down there, scoop the producer up in his arms and rescue her, like Superman would for Lois Lane. He so desperately wanted to be the hero Miss Babcock needed – to be the person she needed. It was obvious to anybody who paid attention for more than a couple of seconds, and it hadn't slowed down any since they'd been in the same place again. And the detective knew that he would be the person Miss Babcock needed – just not right at that moment.
He'd be there, the calm and patient presence, when she was ready to be looked after back at the penthouse. And if the others were there, too, then all the better. C.C. would get to see just what a wonderful, loving support system she had.
"Good. We might be a little while, but it will be for the best. I won't make her come back before she's ready," she said. It was less forceful and demanding than before, but there was still a definite edge to it. One that told the butler he had to agree. "It will help her to feel comfortable again. That is all any of us want, after all."
She almost saw Niles awkwardly shuffling, probably feeling ashamed at his overly-eager reaction, without stopping to think of any of the consequences. Lane didn't think he should feel that bad; he wasn't doing it on purpose, and he was only doing it out of the love he felt.
But she wasn't going to put him on the spot with that. She just let him answer.
"Yes, exactly," he said quietly. Definitely embarrassed by his own reaction. "We...we will be here, waiting. Goodbye, Detective Lane."
She hung up the phone and shoved it away in her pocket, before returning to leaning on the steering wheel with a sigh. C.C. hadn't moved at all while she'd been busy, which had been a stroke of luck really. She didn't want to have to run after her, or get her men back out looking and keeping an eye out if the producer suddenly vanished out of sight again.
Now they could get to talking. Slowly, and quietly, and only about what C.C. wanted to talk about, but they could do it nonetheless. That could eventually turn into her feeling alright enough to go back to the penthouse. Lane would make that – getting C.C. to feel that safe – the ultimate goal, and she'd do whatever it took to make that happen.
Taking in a deep breath to prepare herself for it, she undid her seatbelt and got out of the car to start making her way over to the cafe. She needed to be casual about it, or C.C. could notice that something was up and try to leave, or just get scared and make a panicked run for it. The second option was worse for everybody, but the first wasn't exactly scoring anybody any points either. No. She needed to do this subtly, and without any cause for a scene.
Once inside and in line for the counter, she kept an eye on the producer just in case something changed. Barely anything did – only where she was looking. She'd turned her eyes towards the window, people-watching while she absentmindedly poked at her food with her fork.
It meant that Lane could safely order a coffee at the counter and carefully make her way over without fear of the producer taking it badly. She slipped into the seat next to C.C., setting the cup down on the table and clearing her throat gently to get her attention.
"Don't worry, and don't try to run."
C.C. immediately jumped, her fork skidding out of her hand, her plate sliding on the table, and Chester falling from her lap onto the floor.
"Jesus Christ!"
She scrambled to look at the interloper, heart hammering and racing in her chest, her back pressed to the window and wall while she got ready to make a spring for the exit. But all she found – instead of the dark horrors her mind had been expecting to have discovered her – was that detective who'd been around while she'd been in the hospital! She'd taken her statement. She'd talked to her – she'd been around for all that time, and had tried to make her feel better where she could. They knew each other very well now. But what the hell was she doing out here?!
"Lane?! What the…what the fuck…?!"
"I could probably ask you the same question," the detective replied, leaning down to help pick Chester up. "Shouldn't you be resting at home?"
The detective would have added "and keeping away from danger", but it wouldn't have been fair. Lane knew C.C. hadn't intentionally put herself in harm's way – she was clearly struggling, and her decision to run away was simply yet another devastating consequence of the trauma she was still going through. She needed to recover, and it was Lane's job, as well as her family's, to be there for her through thick and thin, regardless of her making the occasional reckless choice.
"I have no home…" C.C. replied, eyebrows knitting together into a frown. "I don't deserve it, anyway."
"How come?" Lane asked.
C.C.'s frown got impossibly deeper, to the point where it almost looked painful. It was clear she had her reasons to (wrongly) believe she was unwanted at home (courtesy of the son of a bitch who'd taken her, most likely), but she was struggling to put them into words. Back when C.C. had still been missing, Niles had described her to Lane as a spitfire, never afraid to speak her mind. It was obvious to anyone with a mind that that was no longer the case – Miss Babcock seldom spoke these days, unless she really had to. It was yet another consequence of Thomas' abuse.
She'd have to work through that in her own time, when she eventually started therapy, but in the meantime Lane (as well as everybody else in her support circle) would have to be patient with her and give her all the space and time she needed to put her troubled feelings into words.
"I'm a burden…" the producer eventually said, looking away from the detective and down towards her little dog, who was once again dozing on his owner's lap. "I…I freaked out at home. And I made everyone upset…"
"Why do you say so?" Lane inquired again.
"Because I made my mother cry…" Miss Babcock said. "And the only thing she and my father did was touch my upper back and I…I screamed at them and locked myself in the bathroom. I didn't mean to, but I…I just couldn't bear them touching me…"
Every word dug another pit for her to die in. What the fuck was the matter with her?! She'd screamed at her own parents for the crime of making her want to feel better and loved and safe. She'd told them to leave her alone over a cup of tea or coffee!
This was exactly why she was better off going away. Nobody normal and unbroken went off on somebody else over a goddamned cup of coffee! It was sick and twisted, and so wrong of her that she couldn't even believe herself! She'd done some things and said some shit in her time, but never like this! She used to be proud of making people cry, and would happily keep a running tally in a day, but remembering the look on her parents' faces just made her want to sink into the ground and never come out again.
How could she even begin to explain all of that to Lane, though? How could she bring herself to talk about why it had happened? It's not like the detective would understand – she wasn't a broken mess, like C.C. was. She held it together!
Her lip trembled, and she petted Chester to try and stave off what she knew was coming.
"And then I came here. So I can stop being that burden I said about."
Lane made a face, upset to her core at the very idea that Miss Babcock thought she was so much of a waste of everyone else's space and time. This was guilt – horrible guilt, for something she had absolutely no control over! It had been an accident; a reaction to something her father didn't know had…had involved Thomas. Lane could imagine exactly how much it had involved him, too, if one simple touch had made C.C. want to run for the hills.
But it wasn't her fault. All of this was Thomas' fault. It was everyone else's job to make sure C.C. didn't spend her life feeling crushed under the weight of someone else's crimes. And that didn't make her a burden, or something any of them had to carry around – it made all of them human, and in an ideal world it would have been bringing them all closer together, not tearing them all apart in different directions.
They all had to come together, to help C.C. not feel hurt anymore.
"Listen to me. Hey. Look at me," Lane waited until the producer looked up from the orange fur-ball before she continued. "You're not a burden. You're hurt. It's normal and natural for us all to…lash out, maybe at people we shouldn't, when we're hurt. It doesn't mean that any of us are burdens."
C.C. made a noise that sounded a lot like "pfft".
"I'm not normal," the producer argued, going back to frowning. "Not anymore."
"That isn't your fault," Lane said.
"So what?!" C.C. hissed, trying her hardest not to scream at the detective in the middle of a crowded café. "My fault or not, it doesn't take away the fact that I'm a waste of space – a screwed up fuck toy that no one could possibly love or want to deal with, after what's happened!"
C.C. pressed her eyes tightly shut, tears already welling up at their corners. She didn't want to cry – she was tired of crying. She'd done nothing but cry for nearly a year. And what good had that done her? It hadn't stopped Thomas from breaking her over and over, and it wouldn't change the fact that her family would be better off if she just removed herself from their lives.
She was a dirty, broken mess – her parents didn't deserve that. Her brother didn't deserve that. Niles and the Sheffields didn't deserve that…
This was her burden to bear, not theirs.
"Everyone would be better off if I just went away…!" finished the producer, tears now running freely down her cheeks.
There was a short lull in their conversation then. Had C.C. been looking in Lane's direction, she would have seen the heartbreak in the detective's features. She'd be lying if she said she couldn't believe how little C.C. thought of herself – she had enough experience with abuse victims to know just how devastating C.C.'s experience had been to her self-esteem. Thomas had drilled it into her that she was nothing. That no one loved or cared about her, and that no one ever would after what he'd done to her.
He'd screamed, beaten and forced his disgusting lies into her until she'd started believing them too.
"Miss Babcock…C.C.," the detective said, tentatively placing her hand over the producer's. "I know right now it must seem impossible for you to believe this, but all of those things you just said simply aren't true. Your friends and family love you – they've spent the last eight months trying to bring you home."
"That's because they didn't know any better," said C.C.. "They didn't know that this is what they'd get back…"
"No, they didn't, that's true, but that doesn't take away the fact that they love you and want you back, no matter what," Lane said. "They are the ones that actually called me when they realised you were gone – Niles offered to come get you, as a matter of fact."
C.C. froze, blinking rapidly at the detective. She didn't get it – Niles? Out of everybody she knew, Niles had been the first one to say he'd come and get her? Anybody with half a brain in their head would think he'd be the last person to volunteer himself for that job! But he'd thrown his hat in the ring along with everybody else to pick up after her, and had chosen to step up to the plate when she'd fucked up yet again and had gone AWOL!
It almost didn't sound like it could be believable. But why would Lane say it if it wasn't true, when there were so many more things she could've told her to get her to come back, all of which would probably have sounded far more likely?
"Really?" she asked, sniffing. "Niles…Niles really said that, huh?"
Lane let a tiny hint of a smile through. If C.C. could've heard how Niles had sounded on the phone…! Oh, she absolutely would not have believed it.
But there was a chance it would've made her think twice about this whole "running away" plan. So not-so-subtly reminding her just what else the butler had done to help her so far might just get her thinking about things more clearly.
"He really did. I heard it myself," the detective said. "But what else would you expect from a man like that? He's been practically glued to your side ever since you got back, and he's done everything humanly possible to keep you feeling safe, comfortable, and happy."
She saw C.C.'s face fall a little, and realised that might've been a bad move. That probably only made the producer feel more like a weight the butler had been having to carry, when that was the last way on Earth Niles would ever have thought of what he'd been doing.
"You and I both know he wouldn't be happy doing anything else, either," Lane continued before C.C. could interject. "The kind of guy who'd spend all his time following a police investigation like a shadow to make sure you were found, and then holding his own personal bedside vigil once you were safe at the hospital, isn't exactly the kind of guy who wouldn't care to make sure you were alright after all of that, is he? Or that anything about that would change?"
The producer pursed her lips for a moment. It looked like she was trying to think of a way to argue back about it, but was having a hard time coming up with anything. Lane had seen that plenty of times before as well – whenever people were presented with a truth they couldn't or didn't really want to accept.
"No," C.C. eventually relented, shuffling around in her seat. "I guess not…"
That was it. That was the kind of progress that Lane wanted to see! But she had to keep gently nudging the other woman in the right direction. She had to make her see that, whatever was going on in her head, it wasn't true. No one thought of her as this massive burden that no one really wanted to deal with, and was just putting up with to keep everything easier. The only one who thought that was herself.
"Then it would only make sense that Niles – and everyone else, for that matter – haven't suddenly gone from loving you and being so happy you're home and glad to look after you, to seeing you as this great big hunk of baggage that they're glad to be shot of, now would it?"
C.C. felt tense inside, and she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip. She supposed that what Lane was saying made sense…theoretically.
"I suppose..."
The detective was offering her a way home. And she wanted to go. But even if the words made sense on the metaphorical paper, why did that mean they actually had to apply in real life? Maybe everyone waiting back at the penthouse was an exception? They happened all the time!
They could be mad at her. Want her gone, and out of their way. Her mother especially – hell, she'd have been furious with the little runt who'd ever tried to make off with her purse!
But did what she felt and thought really mean that home wasn't safe anymore? Lane had said how they'd called her because they'd been asking for her, specifically, to come back…! Perhaps it was still alright there? If something was that much of a burden and you'd just managed to dump it, you wouldn't go looking for it again, would you?
Something told her they were only doing it because they were obliged to. But a part of her heart was pulling at her, telling her to go and see. They could decide what to do – to go away again, or whatever – when they'd seen. And the detective at least looked confident. It wasn't as though she had a stake in the game, either. She got nothing out of C.C. going back.
"Come on – let's take a trip and find out what the others have to say," she said, moving her hand to C.C.'s arm for a reassuring grip. "You don't have to say anything back, but I think you might be surprised."
That suggestion alone felt like going up for the world's longest bungee jump; even if there was reassurance that the cable wouldn't snap and let the person plunge to their death, the vital "But what if?" question hung there without any intention of going away.
The only way to make it go away was to find out, wasn't it? And she'd been given every reassurance under the sun that it wasn't how she thought…
Perhaps she could chance it. Just this once.
Taking in a breath, she nodded.
"Alright…okay. We can go and find out."
Lane let the smile loose this time. She was always relieved when someone having issues with a family who genuinely cared about them decided to go back and actually talk things out, but this went deeper than that. C.C. turning around and deciding that she wasn't gonna let the fear take her over completely declared to the world that she wasn't going to let what had happened to her rule her life.
She might not have known that yet, but she was getting there. All it took was a lot of love and support, and a few small steps at a time.
"Good. I'm glad to hear you say that," the detective got up to give C.C. room to put Chester down on the floor. She grabbed her coffee while she was at it. "My car's waiting just outside if you wanna get there quickly. If not, we can always walk those couple blocks back…"
C.C. slowed from where she'd been busy winding Chester's leash around her wrist. Naturally, she knew that it'd be faster and easier to go back to the penthouse by car, but the thought of doing that – even with someone she knew – still filled her with a sick sense of dread and unease. Especially if she wound up having to sit in the front.
It didn't ever take too long for her mind to start imagining hands coming towards her, her face being smothered by a cloth before the world faded into black…
She couldn't do it. It was gonna be hard enough meeting up with everybody back at home again! The air outside at least would make her feel free for a while, and not like she was about to be shut away forever.
"Walk. I'd prefer to walk," she replied, standing up. "It's…it'll be better for me. Just let me…"
She trailed off, bringing out the wallet from the bag. She'd been about to dive into it to fish out a few bills for the tip when she remembered what it was she was actually doing.
Remembered, and felt horrified. She'd been about to steal from her mother all over again! What was wrong with her? She'd already done that today, and now she was doing what, exactly? Turning it into a petty crime spree?!
She didn't see how she couldn't be a burden at this point!
"Is something the matter?"
Lane's question made C.C.'s eyes snap up, and her heart crept up her throat like it thought it would be safe in there. She swallowed, eyes looking back and forth between the detective and the notes tucked into the wallet. Presidents and Founding Fathers stared back at her accusingly from one corner, a policewoman with no small amount of concern on her face met her from the other.
Maybe she should just tell her…? She didn't exactly look ready to slap the cuffs on her for want of a few dollars! And they had more important things to worry about than that, didn't they?
Besides, she had to tell someone about it before the guilt ate her up inside. It would be good to get it out with someone else, before she had to talk to her parents…
"I…uh…I took my mother's purse. When I left," she said, the confession coming out of her before she could stop herself. "I don't have my own wallet with me and I thought that I'd need the money. I figured that if I had one of her credit cards, they could at least track me if they wanted to know that I was doing okay…"
She hung her head with a sigh, the last part leaving like the last gasp of air in a balloon. She held in the next breath, noting that Lane hadn't said a word the entire time. Was she mad about it? Did it make things a hundred times more complicated? Had C.C. just made herself an even bigger embarrassment and piece of crappy baggage for everybody to haul around? Including Lane?
If any of those things had actually happened, she never found out about it. The next thing the producer heard instead was a soft clunk and a rustle, and her eyes lifted just enough to see that Lane had put down her coffee and had taken a wallet out of her own purse. The detective then opened it up and took out a few bills.
"Don't worry about it; I've got this one covered."
She put the money down on the table under an empty glass, before offering C.C. a smile, grabbing her drink and using that hand to gesture towards the door. It was the most relief C.C. had felt that day so far, and she gladly took the offer of leaving to start making their way back to the penthouse, Chester trotting along beside them on his leash.
She didn't know what would happen when they all got there, but she needed to take the chance. To think that it would all work out like Lane and the wallet just now. If they were all truly as loving and understanding as they had been before, then maybe she'd have nothing to worry about at all.