Three days later
In her apartment, Nikita sat on the couch while Spike observed her from his lucky position on the cushion, as she idly flipped through the pages of a magazine. She had been very stressed lately. A knock at the door closely followed by the ring of the bell drew them both out of their peaceful reverie.
Tossing aside the magazine, Nikita went to the door and peered through the peephole. Hesitating, she looked back into her apartment to assure herself that it was presentable, undid the security chain and finally opened the door.
Marco was on the other side.
''Busy?'' he asked her, lightly smiling.
''Not at all'' she replied, unaware that she was matching his expression and stepping aside to allow him entry.
Nikita went back to the couch where the ever-attentive Spike jumped onto her lap while Marco remained standing.
''Do you know why I'm here?''
''I can imagine.'' She kept her blue eyes steadily focused on him, but her hands rhythmically stroked the cat.
He found it a little frustrating and had the nagging suspicion she knew it.
''So?''
''So", she remarked "there's nothing I can tell you about our case. I'm honour-bound to maintain my client's privacy.''
''Even at the risk of becoming the accomplice of an assassin?''
Marco was at his wit's end, grasping at straws and it showed. His comment was so absurd because at this point he had no identification, no decisive proof and no possible motive. All he knew was that Sage had no reason to be where she had been and that she had been working for Nikolai Markali under an assumed name. According to her husband, this was to hide her shady past from her employer. On top of that, there was that absurd report on the autopsy, and Nikita was refusing to provide any help whatsoever.
''Our clients aren't criminals Marco, and I can't and won't tell you anything.''
''Anything? Anything at all?''
Nikita felt a pang of guilt for adding to his frustration. She 'd like to help him, but she couldn't even if she had wanted to. This was because Corinne had nothing to do with Sage's death, and she would be met with a lot more than disbelief if she really explained to him how she knew.
In a last exasperated gesture, the cop handed her the folder he had been holding in his hands.
''Just look at these.''
Unwillingly, Nikita took the folder in a show of good will, if anything else. Under Marco's watchful brown eyes, she pulled photos from it. The first ones were of Sage's brutalized body. As she had read in the newspapers, the deep cuts in her flesh showed burnt edges caused by a blade that had been heated. On the right shoulder, there was a tattoo, just like in her vision, in the design of drake's head. A familiar design and she knew exactly why. Just another piece of information she could not share with Marco. Or Michael.
Figures.
''As you see, perhaps it wasn't the first time" Marco said, as Nikita viewed the second set of photos. "The other woman was Melissa Salinger. She worked in Germany selling fake documents. She then came to America, became a wife and mother and was killed last winter in Salem.''
Melissa 's body had the same cuts and was arranged in the same pose as Sage had been. It was a truly shocking sight.
Marco's face bore a look of tiredness, and he pleaded with her to please listen.
''I've got people to answer to Nikita, people who are afraid. What can that poor man tell his daughter when his little girl won't go to sleep because she has nightmares that the man who killed mommy is going to kill her? How can you let this continue if you know something? This could be a serial killer, for God's sake!''
''You have no right speaking to me like that. I do not know anything!''
Nikita was desperately trying to stay calm. The subject alone made her nervous, but Marco's doggedness wasn't helping at all. It was useless telling him about the Markali's and she would get sued if she did. Conflict of interest was truly a fitting phrase.
''I don't believe you!'' Marco exclaimed angrily.
''Then you know the way out, Marco" she icily replied while pointing towards the door, her fingers growing more rigid as she kept caressing the cat in her lap. Spike flew off her lap, perceiving her tension.
''Look at those photos and tell me again that there's nothing you can do to help me.''
''I have already done that!''
Without knowing if she was angrier with him or with herself for not resolving this situation much more quickly, Nikita rose and moved toward the door with Marco slowly following her.
O'Brien raised his hands in surrender, remembering just how stubborn this woman could be especially when getting on her bad side.
''I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be pushy.''
She was standing beside the door and turned her head swiftly to mock him ''No?''
Opening the door, she made it very clear that she wanted O'Brien to leave but he reached out and closed it.
''Help me.'' He pleaded.
Nikita lowered her eyes and raised them again. '' I can't tell you anything that Peter Ross couldn't better express.''
She hoped that Marco got the hint, but he gave no outward sign that he had. He simply and silently stalked out the door she had again opened only after looking at her intently and muttering under his breath ''you can keep the pictures.''
Closing the door, Nikita felt guilty. She hated leaving things unfinished.
Uneasily, she noticed the folder he had left on the couch. Feeling her throat go dry, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Afterwards, she stowed the folder on an overhead shelf intending to not give it a second glance.
This was a resolve that lasted no more than five minutes.
b Chapter 21 /bi Three days later /i
In her apartment, Nikita sat on the couch while Spike observed her from his lucky position on the cushion, as she idly flipped through the pages of a magazine. She had been very stressed lately. A knock at the door closely followed by the ring of the bell drew them both out of their peaceful reverie.
Tossing aside the magazine, Nikita went to the door and peered through the peephole. Hesitating, she looked back into her apartment to assure herself that it was presentable, undid the security chain and finally opened the door.
Marco was on the other side.
"Busy?" he asked her, lightly smiling.
"Not at all" she replied, unaware that she was matching his expression and stepping aside to allow him entry.
Nikita went back to the couch where the ever-attentive Spike jumped onto her lap while Marco remained standing.
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"I can imagine." She kept her blue eyes steadily focused on him, but her hands rhythmically stroked the cat.
He found it a little frustrating and had the nagging suspicion she knew it.
"So?"
"So", she remarked "there's nothing I can tell you about our case. I'm honour-bound to maintain my client's privacy."
"Even at the risk of becoming the accomplice of an assassin?"
Marco was at his wit's end, grasping at straws and it showed. His comment was so absurd because at this point he had no identification, no decisive proof and no possible motive. All he knew was that Sage had no reason to be where she had been and that she had been working for Nikolai Markali under an assumed name. According to her husband, this was to hide her shady past from her employer. On top of that, there was that absurd report on the autopsy, and Nikita was refusing to provide any help whatsoever.
"Our clients aren't criminals Marco, and I can't and won't tell you anything."
"Anything? Anything at all?"
Nikita felt a pang of guilt for adding to his frustration. She 'd like to help him, but she couldn't even if she had wanted to. This was because Corinne had nothing to do with Sage's death, and she would be met with a lot more than disbelief if she really explained to him how she knew.
In a last exasperated gesture, the cop handed her the folder he had been holding in his hands.
"Just look at these."
Unwillingly, Nikita took the folder in a show of good will, if anything else. Under Marco's watchful brown eyes, she pulled photos from it. The first ones were of Sage's brutalized body. As she had read in the newspapers, the deep cuts in her flesh showed burnt edges caused by a blade that had been heated. On the right shoulder, there was a tattoo, just like in her vision, in the design of drake's head. A familiar design and she knew exactly why. Just another piece of information she could not share with Marco. Or Michael.
Figures.
"As you see, perhaps it wasn't the first time" Marco said, as Nikita viewed the second set of photos. "The other woman was Melissa Salinger. She worked in Germany selling fake documents. She then came to America, became a wife and mother and was killed last winter in Salem."
Melissa 's body had the same cuts and was arranged in the same pose as Sage had been. It was a truly shocking sight.
Marco's face bore a look of tiredness, and he pleaded with her to please listen.
"I've got people to answer to Nikita, people who are afraid. What can that poor man tell his daughter when his little girl won't go to sleep because she has nightmares that the man who killed mommy is going to kill her? How can you let this continue if you know something? This could be a serial killer, for God's sake!"
"You have no right speaking to me like that. I do not know anything!"
Nikita was desperately trying to stay calm. The subject alone made her nervous, but Marco's doggedness wasn't helping at all. It was useless telling him about the Markali's and she would get sued if she did. Conflict of interest was truly a fitting phrase.
"I don't believe you!" Marco exclaimed angrily.
"Then you know the way out, Marco" she icily replied while pointing towards the door, her fingers growing more rigid as she kept caressing the cat in her lap. Spike flew off her lap, perceiving her tension.
"Look at those photos and tell me again that there's nothing you can do to help me."
"I have already done that!"
Without knowing if she was angrier with him or with herself for not resolving this situation much more quickly, Nikita rose and moved toward the door with Marco slowly following her.
O'Brien raised his hands in surrender, remembering just how stubborn this woman could be especially when getting on her bad side.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be pushy."
She was standing beside the door and turned her head swiftly to mock him "No?"
Opening the door, she made it very clear that she wanted O'Brien to leave but he reached out and closed it.
"Help me." He pleaded.
Nikita lowered her eyes and raised them again. "I can't tell you anything that Peter Ross couldn't better express."
She hoped that Marco got the hint, but he gave no outward sign that he had. He simply and silently stalked out the door she had again opened only after looking at her intently and muttering under his breath "you can keep the pictures."
Closing the door, Nikita felt guilty. She hated leaving things unfinished.
Uneasily, she noticed the folder he had left on the couch. Feeling her throat go dry, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Afterwards, she stowed the folder on an overhead shelf intending to not give it a second glance.
This was a resolve that lasted no more than five minutes.