Lawson's words rang through Charlie's mind for a long time. Did the man really mean them? Did Charlie even hear right? He wasn't sure. The last few days were all a bit of a blur. The blasted infection from the dog bite lingered and even though his fever had dropped and he was finally allowed back to his own room and bed, Charlie still felt like crap.
Nights were filled with nightmares and an occasional visit by either Blake or Jean checking up on him. Last night he had slept fitfully, tossing around as much as his various wounds and bruises allowed. Blake was there sometime in the middle of the night, waking him up with a glass of water and couple of pills. Charlie didn't know what they were for, but he took them dutifully. Through half closed eyes he watched Blake, bleary eyed looking at the thermometer. At least something seemed to be going well and Blake gave a satisfied smile, which was broken by a yawn.
"Fever's staying down. Good job Charlie," he said and Charlie wondered why he was being praised for something he could hardly influence. He was too sleepy though to poise the question, so he gave a noncommittal sound and burrowed his head back in the pillow. He heard Blake chuckle then felt the pillow under his broken arm being adjusted to a more comfortable position. The bedside lamp turned off and Blake had left the room.
Charlie's ears perked up, expecting to hear the click of the door and turning of the key, but neither came and he relaxed and fell into slumber.
The morning brought a clearer mind, though that was hardly a win. Charlie was quite aware of the fact he had practically attacked Jean while she was only trying to help him. Despite her reassurances, Charlie had trouble looking Jean in the eye when she brought him breakfast. The fact she was acting as if nothing had happened between them didn't make it any easier. Maybe if she had glared at him... or stopped being so damn caring. Each time she carted her hand through his hair or put her palm on his forehead to check for fever, he wanted nothing more than to lean into the touch. But he was feeling guilty and undeserving of all the comfort.
To her credit, Jean managed to pretend nothing was wrong for quite some time. Until this breakfast. When he finished half the plate, pushing the rest away with downcast eyes, she let out a frustrated sigh, clearly reaching her limit.
Charlie risked a glance her way and saw her standing at the foot of his bed with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow, in a stance he was so familiar with seeing, though usually it was aimed at someone else.
For a moment their gazes met. Seeing the fierceness and frustration colouring her usually relaxed face, Charlie broke the contact.
"I'm sorry," he muttered and felt like cringing when she gave a frustrated huff.
"How many times do I need to remind you there's nothing to apologize for?" she asked and the weariness of her tone made Charlie even more ashamed. This wasn't leading anywhere. He was just making her more upset, which would hardly atone for what he perceived as his fault.
"Maybe a dozen more?" he said and glanced up.
Jean paused then let out a chuckle.
"Oh well. In that case, could you perhaps do it while Lucien or Matthew are present? Might show them there's no shame in apologies."
Charlie grimaced.
"I don't think either of them can be taught anything at this point," he said in his most sincere tone and it was so heartening to see Jean laugh. He definitely preferred that to the worried look on her face she wore since he returned home.
Things were a bit easier afterwards. Being back to his own room also had its perks. For one, he didn't feel like breaching Lawson's privacy by merely looking at the wall. And opening his eyes after a nightmare and seeing the familiar room, with photos of his family on the bedside table, made him calm down much faster.
The downside to being there was the fact the living room was too far away. Lawson was staying away from Charlie, whether it was purposeful or not he didn't know. But Charlie didn't feel like chasing the man down. Yet he needed to ask some questions. About what was happening with the case, whether Lawson had any new information.
He tried to ask Jean but she didn't seem to know anything new. Blake simply told him to rest and not to worry about it. Charlie gritted his teeth and decided to try and brave the stairs on his next trip to the bathroom. However, he had fallen asleep before that could occur and next time he woke it was already past midnight. He might've wanted some answers, but wasn't foolish enough to wake up Lawson for it. Next day then.
When Charlie woke up it was already late morning and one look at the clock told him Lawson was gone. He smelled food and as he managed to move his body into a more upright position, wondering if this was how really old people felt every day, he spotted a plate with toasts and tea on the bedside table, along with a few pills. He had to smile. Jean was just wonderful.
Breakfast had to wait though. First thing was the bathroom. Groaning and taking his sweet time, Charlie limped his way to the bathroom, using the wall for occasional support. He wondered how long it would take to get his energy back. When he asked the Doc last night the man just shrugged, said something about the blood loss and infection taking a toll and to focus on resting. Charlie rolled his eyes at the memory. Blake was the right one to talk about resting, really. The man couldn't be kept down with his own stab wound. Charlie still remembered trying to keep him out of the investigation so early after his attack, to no avail. He could've sworn that if not for Jean putting down her foot Blake would've driven himself into an early grave quite some time ago.
The look in the bathroom mirror made Charlie pause. He barely recognized himself. The stubble was turning into a beard and he didn't even want to look at the state his hair was in. The bruises had also managed to turn into a garish colour, giving him a proper look of a derelict.
He tried to splash water on his hair and face, but it was harder to do one handed than it seemed. After several unsuccessful splashes, his shirt was almost as drenched as his hair. The thought of trying to shave when even just standing up for a few minutes was making him tired felt like an utter fiction or a bloodbath in waiting. Cursing, Charlie had to make due with a quick wash and an awkward combing of his hair. While he didn't want to entertain any guests, he felt bad for Jean and the others having to deal with him in such a poor state.
He did apologize for that once Jean came to his room after he finished breakfast.
"Nonsense! Trust me, I've seen worse. And you look better than you did when Lucien brought you home, so that's something."
Charlie felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He didn't really want to think about the last few days or how much had the others done for him since. Charlie never liked to be dependent on someone for any reason. From early childhood he was taught to be there for others, to protect and take care of his brothers, to help out his mother. The thought of someone else having to do things for him felt wrong. But there was hardly anything he could do about it now and he knew it was a bit irrational of him to expect such. Though when Jean offered to help him shave, Charlie still balked.
"Ah no, thank you. I think... I might try it later on... myself."
Jean's eyebrows quirked and her lips twitched.
"Are you sure you want to risk more blood loss?"
Charlie frowned, disgruntled.
"I can shave myself," he grumbled.
"Just a question then. Remind me, which hand you use to hold the blade?" Jean asked, head turned slightly but he still caught the smile.
Charlie sighed.
"Left."
"So... do you prefer to add a few more cuts to those bruises? Or let me help you out?"
"Maybe I can grow a beard," Charlie mused.
Jean scoffed.
"I'm not saying you can't pull it off, but..."
"But what?"
"It would make you look older than your years, Charlie," she said softly.
It didn't take much convincing after that. One more bathroom break and a glance at the mirror which gave him a slight startle, and Charlie promptly agreed to the offered help.
Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on his bed, right hand running over the smoothly shaven skin. It did feel great and even though he saw Jean cringe as the beard was gone and she got a full look at his face, Charlie thought it couldn't be that horrible.
"Well, nothing a bit of sun, plenty of sleep and a good meal can't fix," Jean muttered as she cleaned up the basin with water and the mess around.
"Thank you," Charlie said with a smile that Jean happily returned.
Short time later, Jean excused herself for a book club meeting. Of course she first made sure Charlie had everything he could need.
"I can stay home if you don't feel well though," she said a bit uncertain. Charlie shook his head, feeling a rush of affection towards the woman mixing with slight irritation at being the cause of worry.
"No, that's alright. I'll just... read and sleep I think," he said with a reassuring smile. Jean cast him an assessing look and Charlie made sure his smile didn't falter. Finally, she seemed to find all to her satisfaction.
"Alright then. If you need anything, Lucien is in the surgery. He is expecting one more patient but then the house should be clear," she said, knowing that right now they needed to keep Charlie's whereabouts on the lowdown as much as possible.
Charlie nodded, understanding.
"Go... I'll be fine," he said and Jean finally relented.
Charlie knew he technically wasn't alone, what with Blake being downstairs. The house still felt empty without Jean's presence. He tried to fall back to sleep, hoping that maybe next time he woke up his body would feel more normal. But his head was clear for the first time in several days... maybe even weeks. So despite his attempts at sleep, his mind was occupied by everything that happened so far.
He wondered how Caleb was doing... where the hell were Kenneth and Ben. He supposed those were questions he might ask Lawson, but he wasn't sure the man was privy to all the information at this point. And didn't he promise to call Johnson after all? He had a hazy memory of giving Lawson the man's number but he didn't know how that turned out. Thinking of calls made Charlie realize that there was one person he should have contacted much sooner. Cringing, Charlie completely abandoned the thought of sleep. His stomach was now churning uncomfortably with the thought of his mother being left in the dark, worrying.
Maybe he should have waited for Lawson to return home and find out what was the situation, but the longer he thought about his mother worrying, the less patience he had. And to be fair, it wasn't just for his mother's sake. Charlie missed hearing her voice and he wanted to make sure she and his brothers were indeed alright.
Decision made, Charlie made his way across the room, then out into the hall. He took a bit of a longer walk and stopped to lean against the staircase landing. He could hear distant voices downstairs, which meant Blake's patient had arrived.
Just as well, Charlie thought. He should have some time before Blake would come up to check on him.
Feeling a bit like a naughty kid, even though he had all the reason to be there, Charlie shuffled towards the phone in the hall. He bit at his lip, considering. He really didn't want Blake's patient to hear him talking and he knew that a call to his mom might take some time. He measured the length of the phone cable and figured it might be long enough to reach Jean's old room.
Since Jean and Blake got married, the room served partly as a guest room or a sewing room. Charlie wasn't really sure. It still bore a lot of Jean's touch and he felt as if he was breaching her privacy when he stepped inside, but there was no other choice really. So he pulled the phone cord along and settled down on the floor, back leaning against the wall, while he pushed the door closed.
The phone in his lap, Charlie took a moment to gather his thoughts. He was sure his mom would be asking plenty of questions he wouldn't be able to answer yet. Maybe he should just leave the call for another day?
No, Charlie decided. His mom deserved better. He had already scared her enough. With a sigh, and before he could change his mind, he dialled the number.
The call went much smoother than he imagined.
One thing could be said for Shirley Davis. She was a strong woman.
As soon as she heard his voice and got reassured that he was indeed alive, she notably calmed down. When she started asking about details, Charlie apologized and told her he can't speak about it yet.
She understood and for a moment, Charlie was speechless.
Until she sighed.
"Your father was a cop, Charlie. I know how it goes. As long as you are safe... I can live without knowing the details," she said and Charlie wished he could hug her through the phone.
"You are safe, right?" she asked when he didn't reply right away.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm safe mom," Charlie said, believing it for the first time since this whole thing started.
"Good. I hope someone is here to 'have your back' as your father would say."
"I'm fine mom, don't worry."
"I can't not worry, Charlie," she huffed. "You sound tired and I still don't know when I will be able to see you."
"Soon. I promise, mom. As soon as the situation calms down... I'll stop by, alright?"
She sighed but there was hardly anything she could do about the situation.
"I promise," Charlie added.
"I'll take your word for it then. Just take care Charlie, please."
"I will." Charlie thought it might be a good time to cut the call short, but then there was one more thing he needed to mention. "Uh mom?"
"Yes dear?"
"Could you... not mention that I called to anyone?"
There was a moment of silence and Charlie cringed, knowing well that his request would just reignite his mother's worry.
"I won't. But... a man called two days ago asking about you. I told Chief Superintendent Lawson about him and no one else called afterwards, but... he really seemed to want to find you," she said slowly with a hint of warning.
"I know. He's... he's a cop. He shouldn't bother you anymore though. If he does, just... call Lawson again, alright? He will take care of it."
"Alright, I will do."
"And mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful please. Tell the boys... tell them not to talk to any strangers asking about me, alright?"
"Should I worry Charlie?" Shirley asked, serious. It was one thing for her to be bothered by cops, it was something else that her children might be in danger.
Charlie grimaced. He wasn't sure what to tell her. In the ideal world, no one would be able to figure out his true identity until the trial and his family should be safe. But Charlie knew this wasn't an ideal world.
"I'm sorry mom. I didn't mean to endanger any of you. And most likely, no one will appear. But... if you notice anything strange or the boys... just... call Lawson."
His mother was silent for a bit longer, obviously trying to stomach what was said. In the end, she just sighed wearily.
"I will tell the boys and Bernie. But I better hear a good explanation from you... in person."
"Yes madam," Charlie said, his lips twitching in a smile. He was hoping it would really be only a matter of days or weeks at most before he could risk a visit home. With that on mind, he bid his farewell and ended the call.
For a few minutes he sat there, head leant against the wall. He wondered if he should try to move or just stay where he was. The phone call drained what little energy he had and the nap he was supposed to be taking sounded more and more enticing. He still had one more call to make however.
With a sigh, he once again picked up the phone and started dialling a number. It wasn't until several rings that he realized he chose the wrong one. It was early afternoon, a week day. There was no way Johnson was home. He would have to call his work number.
Grimacing, Charlie pondered if it was a smart move, trying to contact Johnson at the police station. On the other hand, what could go wrong really? If someone else picked up the phone, Charlie could just hang up.
"Sergeant Johnson," came the weary sounding voice after the third ring.
"Hey Gary," Charlie said, feeling almost relieved. He wasn't sure when he would've gotten a chance to try again.
There was a pause on the other end, then sound of rustling and movement. A slam of the door.
"Charlie?" Johnson's voice held a hint of disbelief. "Is that you?"
"Yeah."
"Man, I thought you was dead or something!" Johnson said, then let out a sigh of relief. "You told me you would call right away and then I didn't hear from you for three days!"
Charlie blinked. Had it really been three days?"
"Uh, sorry. I wasn't... I couldn't really call," he said with a sigh, then frowned. "Didn't... didn't you get a call? From a ... friend of mine?" he didn't think Lawson would forget to call after how adamant he was about getting Johnson's number, but frankly, Charlie was so confused about the last few days that he could've just as well imagined that.
"No, he did. Well... I didn't know who he was because he didn't introduce himself," Johnson sounded exasperated about that and Charlie bit down a chuckle. "He sounded quite bossy... and pissed," Johnson admitted.
Charlie laughed.
"Yeah... I bet he did." Bossy and pissed was just the right description. "Didn't he tell you I was fine?"
"He told me you were alive, not thanks to me," Johnson grumbled. "Then he ripped me a new one. Say... do I have to worry about my hide?"
Charlie bit at his lip.
"Not from him. Not sure how things are going at your end though," he added, his voice sobering up.
Johnson sighed.
"Well, that makes two of us," he admitted and it was clear that something was wrong. Still, the man found the time to ask about Charlie. "You back on your feet?"
"Mostly," Charlie said a bit hesitantly. "Getting there," he added.
"Just... keep safe, alright?" Johnson said and something in his tone sent a shiver of warning down Charlie's spine. This wasn't just friendly concern.
"What's wrong?" Charlie cut straight to the chase. His body was getting stiff and the position he was in was getting uncomfortable. He could also hear movement downstairs, which meant Blake would most likely be up and checking in on him soon.
Johnson cleared his throat, then spoke, his voice much quieter than before, as if he was worried about being overheard.
"Some... evidence went missing."
Charlie frowned.
"Missing?"
"Yeah. The drugs... they went missing from the evidence locker. No one is talking either and all three families lawyered up. We are still keeping Richard and Douglas in the cells, but..." Johnson wavered. "I'm afraid what we have left won't be enough to keep them locked up longer than the start of the trial. If we don't catch Kenneth and Ben and make them talk..."
"All you have is me... and Caleb," Charlie said as the realization set in and made his blood turn into ice.
"Exactly," Johnson said and it was apparent the idea made him just as worried as Charlie. If the whole case now stood only on their witness statement... all the more reason for some people to try and silence them. Charlie felt dread fill his stomach.
"Caleb... is he alright?" His hand squeezed the phone so hard his fingers went numb.
"Yeah. He's safe... after the drugs went missing... I made sure he was moved to a more secure location. Only two people other than me know where he is... and I am sure they won't say anything."
Charlie wanted to feel relieved, but he couldn't. So many things had gone wrong in this case and so many people were crooked. Damn, the whole town was a cesspool where Charlie was concerned.
"Are you sure?"
"I swear on my life. He's safe. Besides... everyone thinks he ran away."
Charlie nodded half mindedly.
"What about me?"
Johnson fell silent and Charlie's eyes narrowed.
"Gary?"
"Sorry, Charlie. I... we managed to convince the hospital staff that you had ran away, but... I think there's still a snitch at the station. Someone let out a word that we... weren't really trying to catch you."
"What does that mean?"
Charlie had a feeling he knew, but he still needed to hear.
"They know you're a cop."
Charlie swallowed. His head thudded dully against the wall, the pain muted by the whirling thoughts.
"Anything else?" he asked wearily.
"No, I don't think so. Look, I'm pretty sure they won't manage to find you, but..."
"There's a chance," Charlie finished.
"I'm afraid so," Johnson said and the regret was clear in his voice. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I don't know who let it out..."
Charlie shook his head. Assigning blame wasn't his style, not in a situation such as this.
"We should've expected that," he said. "It was hardly a masterful escape."
"Still."
"That nurse..."
"The one that tried to kill you?"
Charlie paused.
"Did she?"
Another sigh and Charlie could just imagine Johnson running a hand over his hair trying to relieve some of the stress.
"Yeah, actually she did."
Charlie thought it shouldn't have surprised him. But it did. All this time... he almost managed to convince himself that it was just his imagination. That the poor nurse got confused, maybe mixed up the rooms and then fled out of embarrassment. He didn't think she actually intended to kill him, but... obviously, he was wrong. The thought made his stomach turn and he had to swallow down a few times, begging his stomach to calm down.
"How... how do you know?"
"We tested the syringe. It had morphine in it."
"She... she said it was a painkiller," Charlie said with some doubt.
"Yeah well... the amount of it would have killed all the pain for sure," Johnson said sarcastically. "Forever."
Charlie gulped.
"Did she say who... who sent her?"
Johnson sighed.
"No. Despite being locked up in the cell and being interrogated three times, she is still insisting it was her own mistake. Seeing as you fled the scene and no actual harm happened... we will have to let her go soon if she doesn't tell us the truth."
"What is the truth?"
"I talked to several of the other nurses. It seems she was... very close to Dr. Kendrick. I'd say that one call he made wasn't to his lawyer but to her after all."
Charlie gritted his teeth. Of course. How the bastard without an ounce of empathy managed to get a girl so infatuated that she would kill for him was beyond Charlie's comprehension, but here they were.
"So... everyone is being let out? Free as birds?" Frustration was clearly seeping through his voice.
"Not everyone. Listen Charlie, I know this feels like a loss, but... we got Richard and Douglas off the police force. Several rich folks were fined and even though they won't go to jail, the press dragged them good. And we can still win at the trial. All we need is for you and Caleb to stay safe until then."
"Piece of cake," Charlie muttered.
"Just... stay somewhere safe, Charlie. Make sure you have someone covering your back, alright?"
Charlie nodded, even though Johnson couldn't see him.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I think I have that covered," he added and some of the fear dissipated. After all, he did have people around whom he could trust.
"Good. I have to end this call, someone is coming. Take care and... give me a call in few, will you?"
"Yeah," Charlie promised. "Take care as well."
The call ended and Charlie numbly put down the cradle. He was hoping this call would help him relax some of the tension, but the opposite happened. Charlie's stomach was a twist of nerves.
Evidence went missing and there was a leak. They knew he was a cop and Kenneth was still at large.
If Charlie knew one thing it was that Kenneth was a vengeful bastard. He wouldn't stop until he got his revenge. Charlie hoped the man had decided to flee and save his life and freedom, but the fact things weren't going smooth in Leighton gave Charlie reason to doubt that.
And what if they somehow managed to figure out who he really was? Was his mother in danger? Would they go after his family or would they come after him? Was he bringing danger into the Blake household?
"What're you doing here?"
Charlie jerked, startled. Blake was standing in the door, giving him a look of confusion and concern.
"I...ah... I needed to make a call," Charlie said, his voice sounding unsure even to his own ears. The concern on Blake's face deepened and the man leaned down, putting his palm against Charlie's forehead.
"I'm fine," Charlie grumbled, pulling back.
"Hardly... though you're not spiking a fever at least." Blake's eyes gave him a quick check, pausing at the phone on his lap.
"Bad news?"
Charlie gave a half shrug, then a nod.
Blake sighed.
"Alright. Why don't we get you back to your room? Then we can talk about it and figure out what to do. How does that sound?" Blake said, offering his hand to Charlie.
Charlie looked at it, then slowly reached up, accepting the hand.
"Like a plan," he said then grunted as Blake helped him up to his feet. His legs had fallen asleep and he hissed, taking a moment to get rid of the pins and needles. Blake stood there patiently, offering an arm of support.
"Don't worry. Whatever is the trouble... I'm sure we can fix it."
Charlie looked at him, grimacing as his body protested the previous position. Seeing the sincere look on Blake's face though pushed back all the discomfort and warmth spread through his insides. He wasn't alone now. There were people who he could trust, people who had his back after all. He just hoped their dedication won't cause them harm. He would never forgive himself if one of them got hurt because he tried to prove himself worthy of the job.
A car pulled up in front of the house just as Jean put the meat into the fridge to let it soak in the spices and sauce. It was shortly past lunch, which she ate with Charlie. He was getting up and about more and more, though he still tired easily. She was just happy he pulled through the first two days and that the fever was mostly gone. Now she was getting ready for the moment when he felt well enough to start getting bored. From previous experience she knew it would be hard to keep him down.
She was thinking how she could possibly entertain him in the near future, what with his dominant hand being out of commission. There wasn't much that came to mind.
The sound of the engine made Jean look up at the clock. It was too early for either Matthew or Lucien to return and she was sure there was no patient scheduled for the rest of the day. Frowning, she made her way to the window, trying to spot the visitor.
The car was unfamiliar. She saw an equally unfamiliar man stepping out of it. His eyes circled the yard, then he headed towards the door.
Jean felt a shiver of apprehension.
Both Blake and Matthew had warned her about strangers bumping into her or asking questions, but she didn't think one would appear right at their doorstep. There was a rapt knock and Jean swiftly made her way towards the door. She shot a look towards the stairs, hoping Charlie was indeed asleep upstairs and won't come down exploring.
"Coming," she called out when the knocking resumed, inpatient. She already didn't like the man.
Jean opened the door and while usually she would be all smiles, now there was a wary look on her face. She also didn't open the door wide, instead stood there, ready to slam it shut if needed.
The man had a straight posture, so reminiscent of an army man, even though the rest of his appearance was definitely that of a civilian. He had a determined look on his face. Jean knew right away he spelled trouble.
"Can I help you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and polite, in case this was just some door to door salesman. Albeit the lack of a briefcase made her doubt that.
The man gave her an assessing look.
"I'm detective O'Leary. From Sydney."
Jean raised a brow.
"You're a long way from home, detective O'Leary," she said trying to keep her voice from showing her apprehension.
"I have an important business here," he said with a nod. "May I come in?"
Jean thought about it.
"May I first inquire about the purpose of said business?"
O'Leary's eyes narrowed.
"It's police business. Now do I need to show you my badge? This is a rather delicate matter and I'd prefer to discuss it inside."
Jean wanted to snap back where he could show that badge, knowing well enough this was the man who made Charlie take the job. But she couldn't very well do that without giving up the fact she knew what had happened. So she gave a curt nod and stepped back from the door, her mind working frantically on the options and hoping against all hopes that Charlie was fast asleep.
O'Leary pushed past her and headed straight to the living room. She gritted her teeth at the audacity but found herself following him without a word.
"What can I help you with then, detective? If you came after Chief Superintendent Lawson, I'm afraid he's still at the station, working."
O'Leary shook his head.
"No, thank you. I think I had enough interaction with the superintendent to last me a year," O'Leary grumbled. "I need to speak to Davis."
Jean blinked, her heart skipping a beat, but her face staying poker still.
"I'm sorry, but Charlie isn't here."
"Oh, really?" O'Leary raised a brow, his tone clearly disbelieving. "May I ask where is sergeant Davis?"
"I haven't the slightest clue," Jean said, giving a half convincing shrug. "Last I heard he was on some... special training?" she said, looking O'Leary straight in the eyes. The man's lips twitched.
"Is that so," he grumbled. "Well... you won't mind me looking around the house then? Just to make sure?"
Jean's eyes narrowed, arms crossing over her chest.
"Actually, I do mind. You have no right to search this house without a warrant-"
"I hardly need a warrant for a little walk," O'Leary said and already headed out of the living room, pushing past Jean.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked, voice raised as she caught up to him in the hall. O'Leary didn't say anything, he just looked around, then headed for the closest door, which happened to be Lawson's room. He opened the door and peeked in.
"Hey, stop that! I want you to leave, right now!" Jean grabbed his arm and pulled at it, trying to stop him.
He totally ignored her, merely shrugging her off and after quick inspection of the room he headed down the hall, opening a few more doors. Jean was actually considering grabbing a vase and smacking it over the intruder's head.
"How dare you come into my house like this?" she hissed at him, yelping as he once again pushed past her. The movement sent her stumbling and she ended up catching her balance against the wall. At least he seemed to pause at that, grimacing.
It was clear to both of them that if he continued, blood will be shed one way or the other.
O'Leary shook his head.
"This is just useless loss of time," he grumbled, then looked up towards the stairs. "Sergeant Davis!" he shouted and Jean jerked.
Damn the man!
Jean was really hoping Charlie wouldn't take the bait.
O'Leary didn't seem inclined to go up the stairs and continue fighting her off, but he was determined not to leave without making sure Charlie indeed wasn't there either. They waited and Jean was giving him an 'I told you so' look, when O'Leary shouted once more.
"Sergeant Davis! If you don't come down this instant, I will be hard pressed to go upstairs. I'm sure you don't want Mrs. Blake here trying to stop me."
Jean glared at him.
"This is absolutely insane, detective. I already told you he's not here!" she said, raising her voice, hoping that Charlie would take the hint and stay still.
Of course that wouldn't be Charlie.
She could hear a door opening, then shuffling steps. It wasn't long before a sleepy-eyed Charlie appeared at the top of the stairs, glaring. He shot a concerned look down towards Jean.
She sighed and gave him a small nod that she was alright.
Charlie's gaze turned to O'Leary and Jean would've sworn... if looks could burn the man would be ash right then and there.
"Detective. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Charlie asked coldly.