I hope everyone is enjoying this. I'm learning to write while listening to HGTV.
Chapter Eight:
"Am I allowed to say that I want to murder Fiona Duncan in the courthouse?" Wright asked her co-prosecutor and first chair, Jacob Wendt.
They were in a break room eating sandwiches. The case wasn't going well, and Duncan was on Wright's last nerve as she continued to use stonewalling tactics.
"As long as a cop can't hear you," Wendt said. "Most judges would tell you to get in line."
"I don't even think she cares about the people she defends," she said. "Who in their right mind would hire her?"
"Beats me," Wendt said.
Wright checked the messages on her phone. One sent her heart racing.
"You okay?" Wendt asked.
"No," she said. "Can you interrogate Larson without me?"
"Sure, I'll catch you up tomorrow."
"Thanks," she said and rushed out of the room.
…
Darla met her on the fifth floor.
"He keeps claiming he's fine," she said. "He is joking that he's more embarrassed that I saw his rear end than anything."
They walked down the hall.
"What do his charts show?" Wright asked.
"He is in a lot of pain and refusing narcotics," Darla said. "It's nothing life-threatening, but he is extremely uncomfortable."
"Darla, what aren't you telling me?" she asked.
"My shift just started when they brought his coworker in. They guy had been stabbed at least a dozen times."
"Is someone targeting his team?" Wright asked.
"I was talking with the other doctors and they said that the stabbing was associated with that of a serial killer originally based in Boston. Spencer was shot while pushing a doctor out of the way of a guy who blamed him for his son's death. It is just terrible luck for one team of profilers."
"Can I see him?" she asked.
"I wouldn't have messaged you if you couldn't."
"Thanks Darla," Wright said.
"He's going to be okay Chloe," she said. "Just remember that."
She walked into his room and nearly gasped. His leg was hung up in all sorts of wires. The look on his face was grim.
"Chloe?" he said.
"Hey," she said softly. "How's the pain?"
"Manageable," he said. "I take it Darla called you?"
"Texted," she said. "One day I'll teach you how to do that."
"You didn't have to rush to my side," he said.
"I wanted to," she said. "Especially since your coworker was nearly stabbed to death."
"He's my boss," he said. "Everyone is worried about him for reasons I can't talk about."
"Then if everyone is worried about him, let me worry about you," she said.
"I really don't want anyone to worry about me," he said and winced.
"Darla said you're refusing narcotics," she said.
"They don't usually prescribe them for gunshot wounds," he said.
"You are not a usual case."
He winced again.
"Let's discuss what you're teaching me right now," she said and pulled out a book by David Rossi.
"One of my favorites," he said with a weak smile. "What are you having trouble with?"
"The difference between satanic worship as a religion and satanic worship as a motive for murder," she said.
"Okay," he said. "Let's get started."
They talked for three hours and Darla dropped in with food for Reid and a coke for Wright.
Reid's phone rang and Wright handed it to him.
"Hi J.J." he said. "How's Hotch?"
Wright listened and it sounded like he wasn't doing well. She could tell he wasn't pleased that J.J. wasn't dropping by after dinner. He hung up and winced.
"I'll stay with you," Wright said.
"You don't have to Chloe," he said.
"Your team is busy, I am not," she said. "Is there anything I can get you?"
"I'll give you my card and you can buy me some books I haven't had time to read," he said. "There is a shop not far from here. Get out some paper and I'll dictate you a list."
"Sure," she said. "No problem."
"Thanks as always, Chloe. For being a good friend."
"That's what friends are for," she said with a smile.
…
Over the next three weeks, Wright became Reid's assistant. Occasionally, she saw coworkers on the way to his apartment, but she never interacted with them. It occurred to Wright that for the first time Reid really needed her compared to the other way around. He found her cooking to be slightly edible compared to the way her roommates reacted. She cleaned and helped him with PT. Reid and Wright had never been closer.
"That really isn't necessary," he said as she fluffed his pillows.
"I'm going to be gone for a three-day conference in Cleveland," she said. "I have returned and renewed all your library books. New books are the coffee table. There are meals in the freezer. Darla is checking in on you tomorrow and she is going to demand a rematch from the last time you beat her at cards."
"You're acting as though I don't know how to take care of myself," he said.
"The just got the measurements right for your crutches," she said. "Don't overexert yourself okay?"
"I won't," he said.
"Bye," she said.
"Bye," he said.
She almost said, "I love you" as she left.
Maybe she was starting to develop feelings for him.
…
Wright couldn't believe famed California district attorney Ray Fabry was paying attention to her. He had brought down multiple criminal enterprises with his incorruptibility. Fabry was the kind of lawyer she aspired to become.
After the dinner, he asked if she'd like a drink at the bar with him. She was giddy with excitement. He ordered them martinis "stirred not shaken because shaken martinis are weak." Wright may have laughed to hard at the joke. All her reactions started to feel exaggerated.
Fabry laughed.
"You really are a featherweight."
"I'm as virtuous as a nun when it comes to drinking except, I think nuns drink more wine than I do."
He laughed and her head began to feel heavy.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go."
"Okay," she said.
They walked to the elevators. He put his arms around her as they entered. When the elevator stopped, Wright realized something was off.
"Wait," she slurred. "This isn't my floor."
"You're coming with me," he said guiding her out of the elevator.
"I don't want to," she said.
"You don't have a choice," he whispered menacingly.
He pushed her into the room and Wright fell to her knees.
"I want to see where else that red hair is," he said as he closed the door.
"I'll scream," she said weakly.
"You can't," he said. "And who are they going to believe? The Great Fabry or a young lawyer who had too much to drink and misread the situation?"
She felt helpless as he carefuly pulled her clothes off.
"No," she moaned as she saw him come for her.