Kirsten
I know I'm right. I suppose that's a flaw of mine. I always act as though I am right and, most of the time I am, but a lot of time there's that little nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I could be wrong and to slow the hell down.
But I know I'm right about Lindsey.
When we reach the police station, Fisher is just walking out of an interrogation room.
"Well if it isn't my two favorite stitchers." Fisher greets.
"Aw, your favorite?" Cameron asks.
"Well, the bar is pretty low…" He trails off but he's smiling happily.
"I thought you were supposed to have two more weeks of recovery time?" I ask suspiciously, giving him a once over. He looks physically fine, not like the man who was the ground with two gun shot wounds only a month before.
"Eh, I'm fine." He shrugs. "I was getting bored just sitting at home. I'm still doing limited field work but they're letting me sit behind the desk."
"Anyway, Lindsey didn't kill herself." I start. "She—"
"Yeah, I know." Fisher interrupts, shrugging and pushing past us to get into the room connected to the interrogation room.
"Wait, you know?" I ask, pulling Cameron with me and following Fisher into the room.
"Yeah, the medical examiner got back to me this morning. She confirmed that the stab wounds had too much force behind them to be from the victim." He comments, turning to face the window. I pause and examine the man sitting in the interrogation chair. It's Brandon Young. He looks miserable and my heart aches for him. I reach my free hand up and place it against the glass.
"Why are you interrogating him?" I ask.
"Young and Walsh were having an affair, the theory we're working with is that she wanted more and he killed her." Fisher shrugs.
"What?" I gasp. "Brandon did not kill Lindsey, he never would have done that!" Cameron gives my hand a squeeze. "Let me talk to him."
"Absolutely not." Fisher says. "Besides, he's not talking anyway. He's waiting for his lawyer to get here. He knows we don't have any evidence against him…yet."
"I can get him to talk to me." I assure Fisher. "He's a lawyer, he's smart. If you want anything out of him, I can get it. I swear." Fisher glances at Cameron as if he is the judge of if I should be trusted in the interrogation room or not.
"If she says she can do it…" Cameron trails off, shrugging.
"You have five minutes, Kirsten, and so help me god, if you screw up I will have you banned from the precinct." Fisher threatens. I breathe out a sigh in relief and drop Cameron's hand, heading for door. "And no talking about the program, we know how much you like to blab about it." I roll my eyes at him but leave the viewing gallery and enter in the door to the left. Brandon looks up.
"Listen, I don't know who you are but I told the other guy I'm not saying anything until my lawyer gets here." He says, crossing his arms and staring off towards the mirrored glass window. I follow his gaze but can just see our reflections. Knowing Cameron is right on the other side of the glass makes me feel better though.
"My name's Kirsten, I'm a consultant with the LAPD." I explain, taking a seat in front of Brandon and drawing his gaze away from the window. "I know you're innocent and I want you to help me figure out who did this to Lindsey. Because you and I both know she wasn't suicidal and there's no way she did this to herself." Brandon leans forward dramatically for a second.
"I know she didn't kill herself. Lindsey loved life she would never—" He pauses and leans back. "We can talk when my lawyer get's here."
"How about I talk and tell you what I know and you can tell me if I'm right or not?" I suggest, leaning back in the chair and getting comfortable. Brandon doesn't say anything but he eyes me suspiciously. "You loved Lindsey and Lindsey loved you."
"Yes."
"And she was one of your secretaries." I continue.
"Yes."
"But she broke up with you." I whisper, feeling Lindsey's sadness and regret all over again. Brandon nods his head. "Was it because of your family? Or the company? Or did something happen?" I ask, feeling the need to understand why Lindsey put herself through the pain and misery I felt so clearly in her memories.
"The company has a very strict no dating policy." Brandon explained stiffly. "I wanted her to quit and get a job somewhere else so that we could be together openly and she didn't want that."
"Of course she did." I burst out. "Of course she wanted to be with you she just—" There is a sharp bang on the window, causing both of us to jump in surprise. I glance back at the window and although I can't see anyone, I know Fisher is warning me not to say too much. "I mean, talking to other coworkers and people in her life, they all described her as being extremely sad over the last three weeks. Three weeks ago is when you broke up, yes?"
"Yes, it was three weeks ago." Brandon sighs, leaning his elbows on the table and cradling his head in his hands. "I know I'd only known her for six months but, god, I wanted to marry her. She was…perfect and I can't believe she's just gone."
"Why did she go to your office that night?" I ask.
"Honestly, I have no idea. She knew I wouldn't be there. I had a dinner in Santa Monica with a client. She's the one who made the reservation for it." Brandon explains, pulling away from his hands. For the first time I can see the grief on his face and just how sad he really is. I'm shocked and a little mad at myself that I feel like I can relate to this. Grief is what I felt when Cameron died, what I still feel when I look at him sometimes, but it's incredibly selfish of me to feel like I relate when Cameron is perfectly fine in the next room and Lindsey is dead.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." I mumble, taking his hand. He stares at me for a few seconds before he bursts into tears. I sit rigidly in my chair, unsure of what to do but I feel moisture pooling in my eyes even before Fisher opens the door and ushers me out, telling Brandon his lawyer would be there shortly.
"Was that empathy I saw from the emotionless Kirsten Clark?" Fisher asks, seeming oblivious to my sudden burst of emotion or the tears in my eyes.
"Come here." Cameron sighs, wrapping his arms around me as I wipe furiously at my cheeks. Of course he notices the change in my behavior right away.
"It's just residual emotion." I insist, my voice quaking with the effort I'm exerting to try to hold back my tears, but I lean into Cameron's embrace anyway.
"Shit." Fisher sighs. "I wasn't trying to be an ass."
"Well you succeeded." Cameron snaps, rubbing his hands up and down my arms. I have to admit that I do feel better. I push away from Cameron and wipe once more at my cheeks.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." I insist but grab Cameron's hand anyway and intertwine our fingers together. "But Brandon did not kill Lindsey."
"Then who did?" Fisher asks.
"We need to go to the crime scene." I sigh.
Cameron
"Did I really have to sit in the back?" I grumble, crossing my arms. "And why couldn't we just take your car, why'd we have to take a cruiser?"
"Oh lighten up, Stud." Kirsten shoots me a smile over her shoulder from the passenger seat. I swear Fisher is laughing.
"Because if we arrive in a cruiser, the officers on duty likely won't ask for you two to present badges to get into the building, which you both don't have." Fisher explains.
"And I was not going to sit in the back of the cruiser." Kirsten perks up, seemingly much happier and less emotional now that we are away from Brandon and the precinct.
"Oh sorry, I can't hear you through this plexiglass barrier." I say, tapping on the bulletproof window between us.
"Hey, you're lucky I didn't handcuff you." Fisher says, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. Thankfully it's a short drive to the downtown office building from the police station. As soon as we arrive, I get out of the back of the police cruiser as quickly as possible. Kirsten laughs.
"God, you're crazy, no one thinks you were arrested." She says, following Fisher towards the entrance of the building. I hurry to keep up with them. The two officers on duty simply nod at us and let us through the front door.
"So what exactly are we looking for?" Fisher asks, hitting the button on the elevator. Once all three of us are inside, he pulls out three pairs of gloves and gives a pair to each of us before putting his own on.
"I just…need to see where it happened." Kirsten sighs, putting her own gloves on. "And this way I'll be able to explain to you guys what really happened." I offer a shrug to Fisher and we both follow Kirsten out of the elevator when it opens on the eighth floor. There are a few more officers on this floor as well as some employees that I recognize from the police file on the case. There had been statements from most of them in the main police file but I can see an officer sitting with a crying woman in one of the rooms off to the side and jotting notes down on a legal pad.
Kirsten walks with a purpose to the back of the office and down the narrow hallway, not needing to be told where to go. Fisher stops to talk to a few of the cops who seemed ecstatic at having a detective at their crime scene. I follow Kirsten a few paces behind, happy to let her do what she needs to do.
"This is where Lindsey and the other assistant, Mark, worked." Kirsten explains, walking into a large office at the end of the hallway. There are two desks facing each other on opposite sides the large brown door which leads to, what I assume is Brandon Young's office. While there is police tape hanging loosely around the handles on the office door, the secretary's office seems at large undisturbed. Kirsten immediately goes over to Lindsey's desk on the right and starts opening the drawers.
"Watcha doing, Stretch?" I ask, following her over.
"I'm looking for something the officer's missed." She sighs. "It's fine, I'm wearing gloves." She holds up one of her hands and wiggles her fingers at me. I glance over her shoulder and into the drawers. Nothing looks suspicious to me. It looks like there is just office supplies, granola bars, lipstick, and a pair of ballet flats. Kirsten gives up on the drawers and starts looking on top of her desk. She reaches forward and picks up the only picture frame on Lindsey's desk. It has a photo of Lindsey and three other girls. They're sitting at a kitchen table with Christmas sweaters on and there is snow falling out the window that is behind them. It definitely wasn't taken in Los Angeles. Kirsten goes to put the picture frame back on the desk but something shifts in the frame.
"Hold on." I say. "Let me see that." She passes it over to me and I open the back of the frame. Sure enough, there is a second picture behind the first. It's of Brandon and Lindsey standing in front of a bar with their arms around each other. "This is from Bar Louie." I say, recognizing the place immediately. "It's a really exclusive restaurant a few blocks over."
"Huh." Kirsten mutters, looking the picture over. "Obviously she couldn't have pictures of her and Brandon on her desk because of the no dating rule. Maybe she was just compromising?"
"That's really sad." I decide, putting the frame back together and setting it back down on the desk.
"There's nothing here, let's check in Brandon's office." Kirsten says, walking away from the desk and towards the door. She opens it and I quickly follow. The room still has a metallic, blood-like smell to it and, as we step completely into the office, I see why. Lindsey's blood is still smeared and sitting in pools on the ground near the large window. There are small, folded note cards with different numbers placed in various places throughout the room, indicating places where the cops have deemed there to be a clue or point of interest.
"Oh god." I mutter.
"I guess it's still an active crime scene." Kirsten says softly, walking closer to the window and looking out. I step away from the blood and head over to Brandon's desk, picking up his only picture frame to test a hunch. The picture is of him and what looks to be his brother, both dressed in expensive looking suits. I pull the back of the frame away and, sure enough, there is a second picture behind it. The same photo from Bar Louie that was in the frame on Lindsey's desk.
"I guess that's kind of romantic, huh?" Kirsten asks, coming up beside me and leaning her head on my shoulder. "Sad but romantic."
"Yeah." I sigh, starting to put the photo back in the frame.
"What are you guys doing?" A voice asks, peaking into the room. We both look towards the guy. I recognize him from the employee manifest but can't place him.
"Mark." Kirsten greets, clearly knowing exactly who he is. The other secretary.
"Uh, yeah?" The man says uncomfortably, glancing around the office, his eyes pausing on the pools of blood.
"We're with the police, can we ask you—" Kirsten starts.
"I've already given my statement to the officer in charge." Mark says sharply walking back out of Brandon's office and into his own area. Kirsten and I immediately follow him out.
"We just want to know if you can think of why someone would want to do this to Lindsey." I ask.
"Lindsey and I were best friends." Mark says and Kirsten cocks her head to the side.
"Really?" She asks, clearly not believing him.
"Yes." He snaps but then takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Like I told the other officer, you guys should really be looking into Brandon Young, our boss. They were hooking up, really casual, and he didn't take it well when she ended things. Lindsey just wanted to move on with her life, but Brandon couldn't deal with that."
"The police are looking into him as a potential suspect." I say suspiciously, knowing that what Mark has said is not true based on Kirsten's stitching. Mark nods his head and picks up a suit coat that is hanging on the back of his desk chair.
"Well I have a second job to get to, I was just coming for my jacket." He explains, heading towards the exit. "I hope you catch the guy who did this."
"He's…weird." I offer, giving Kirsten a look.
"Lindsey and him were definitely not best friends." She insists, glancing at the open doorway. "Come on, let's go see if Fisher's come up with anything." Back in the lobby of the firm, Fisher is simply leaning against the front desk and talking with the officers on duty who don't seem to be doing much work.
"Find anything?" He asks as we approach, waving the officers away.
"Enjoy your five minutes of fame?" Kirsten counters, rolling her eyes.
"Does anyone know how to use this thing?" One of the officer's call, hitting some buttons on the shredder sitting next to the front desk.
"Here." One of the women says, handing over an office badge. "The firm has these ridiculous shredders that only the person in that department can use by swiping their badge. It's supposed to prevent us from shredding any documents by accident but it's really just a pain in the butt." The officer swipes her card and puts in a piece of paper. The shredder buzzes to life and Kirsten gasps, grabbing my arm.
"Cameron!" She whisper-yells. "That's the buzzing sound from the stitch after Lindsey was murdered!"
"Is there one of those shredders in Brandon's office?" I ask the woman quickly before she can walk away.
"No, but there is one just outside the door in Lindsey and Mark's office." She explains. Kirsten and I quickly look at each other with wide eyes.
"Who has access to it?" Kirsten asks in a rush.
"Just Mark and Lindsey…" She says.
"Where did Mark go?" Kirsten asks Fisher, glancing around the lobby.
"The other secretary?" Fisher asks. "He left just before you guys got here. Why?"
"Mark killed Lindsey." Kirsten states.
"How sure are you?" Fisher asks skeptically, already reaching for his walkie talkie.
"One-hundred percent." She answers with no hesitation. Fisher pushes the button on his walkie talkie.
"I need units on the ground to stop a suspect. Six foot, Caucasian male, late twenties, wearing a suit but holding the sport coat." Fisher speaks into the device.
"Suspect spotted." A voice crackles out of the speaker a few seconds later. Kirsten and Fisher both glance at each other before taking off sprinting out of the lobby and down the stairs.
"Okay, bye, guys!" I call, walking at a slower pace and instead hitting the elevator button, deciding my heart will thank me for not running down eight flights of stairs. When the elevator door finally opens on the main floor, the two officers that had been standing at the entrance of the building are wrestling Mark into the back of Fisher's cruiser. Fisher and Kirsten are standing off to the side, both breathing heavily.
"Thank you for not following us down the stairs." Kirsten says as I near her, reaching out and intertwining our fingers together. "You're not supposed to put strain on your heart."
"But what about him?" I ask, nodding towards Fisher. "He's the one who took two bullets to the chest."
"Yeah, well you're the only one that actually died." He counters back. Kirsten flinches and I squeeze her hand in response.
"Touché." I agree. "So why do you think he did it?"
"Don't know." Fisher says, shrugging. "Listen, can you guys call either Camille or Linus to pick you up? Unless if Cameron wants to sit in the back with Mark."
"I would rather walk, thank you." I say. Kirsten let's out a laugh.
"Yeah, we'll call Camille to pick us up." She says. "Will you call us when you know anything?"
"Of course." Fisher says, walking away from the two of us. He pauses in front of the cruiser and glances back over at us. "Oh, and good work today."
Kirsten
"Is it…okay that I spend the night here?" I ask later that evening, perched on the edge of Cameron's bed. Cameron's already taken out his contacts and is leaning against the pillows with his glasses on and typing on his phone.
"Well I've already taken out my contacts so I'm not going to drive you back to your house now if that's what you're asking." He says, glancing up from his phone.
"No, that's not what I mean." I sigh, climbing under the covers next to him. "I mean is it alright with you that I'm here. I'm not, like, intruding or anything?"
"No, you're not intruding." He says, putting the phone down. "I told you if you wanted to stay here, you could stay here."
"Okay, good." I respond, cuddling into his side. "It's just that Camille said I may have outstayed my welcome."
"Well, it's not Camille's apartment." Cameron points out, wrapping an arm around me and placing his lips against my forehead. It leaves me feeling all tingly inside and, not for the first time since I saw the kiss between the two of us in his mind, I wonder what it'd be like to kiss him and remember it. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." I say automatically.
"Don't B.S. me, I'm being serious." He insists. "If you're going to sleep in my bed then no lies."
"It was…a lot of emotions for one day." I compromise. "But I feel better when I'm with you."
"Yeah?" He questions, sounding surprised.
"I'm not here just for your comfortable bed, although that is a nice perk." I mumble into his neck, completely content.
"So does that mean it doesn't…hurt as much to be around me or see me or whatever?" Cameron asks. I pull back a little so I can see him.
"Honestly?" I say. "I think it hurt so much from not being near you. I was trying to ignore you or leave you alone or whatever and I think that's what was making me feel so bad. I mean I could stay away from you if you'd like but why would I want to?" I let that question hang in the air between us for a few moments. Cameron looks perplexed but I'm just trying to be honest. My cell phone ringing breaks us away from our staring contest. I roll away from him and reach for the phone on the nightstand table. "Hey, Fisher."
"Hey." He greets. "You with Cameron?"
"Yeah, hold on, I'll put you on speaker." I say, pulling the phone away and turning the speaker on. "Okay, what do you know?"
"So apparently Mark was a bit obsessed with the victim. He worked part time at this restaurant downtown, Bar Louie—" Fisher explains. Cameron and I both exchange a glance."—Anyway, he saw Walsh and Young out together and was very jealous of the two of them. I had some guys go through the shredded paper in Lindsey and Mark's office. Luckily there wasn't a lot in there. Apparently Lindsey had drafted a resignation later, that's what she was leaving on Brandon's desk with the post it note."
"I'm sorry." I repeat the words on the post it note, understanding for the first time what they meant. "I'm sorry I waited so long to quit."
"Exactly." Fisher agrees. "Apparently she had gotten a new job at a local hospital at the front desk. She had told Mark that afternoon she was quitting and he followed her back to the office and killed her. He spilled the entire thing before his lawyer even got there."
"That's…horrible." Cameron sighs.
"At least we caught him." I remind them both and myself.
"I meant what I said earlier, you guys did good today." Fisher says. "It wasn't the worst thing having you help."
"Is that, dare I say, a compliment from Detective Quincy Fisher?" Cameron gasps is fake shock. I laugh and bump shoulders with Cameron.
"Do we have another body already, Fisher?" I ask. "Because I really just want to go to sleep."
"No body yet." Fisher says. "You know, the last time I asked if the two of you were together, you brushed me off and said it was ridiculous but…" He trails off and I can hear the smile in his voice. I glance over at Cameron who is turning a bright red shade and trying unsuccessfully to hide it. The look on his face has me struggling not to burst out laughing.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Fisher, I just happen to find Cameron's snoring very calming." I quip.
"I don't snore!" Cameron gasps, this time bumping shoulders with me.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow." Fisher says in closing. "Night."
I hang up the phone after we say our goodnights and plug it in to the charger on my side of the bed. Cameron does the same on his side of the bed and flips the lamp off before laying back down and letting me get comfortable against his chest.
And I swear, even without temporal dysplasia, I would feel like I had been doing this my whole life.