Disclaimer: All the characters of Law & Order: Criminal Intent are the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. No money is being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: The character of Miriam Sage is my own creation and belongs to me. Sorry for the late update, but lately I have suffered from a very annoying case of writer's block, and although I know what is going to happen I have struggled to get it down on paper. But here is the next chapter, finally, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review, it means so much to me knowing what my readers think!
The sky had cleared a little by the next morning, but still some thick, gray ribbons hung over the sky as the rush of hundreds of thousands of people on their way to work brought the city to life. Among them was a young woman in jeans and a red long-sleeved sweater, covered by a dark brown leather jacket, her auburn hair kept away from her face with hairpins. There was a smile on her face, even though she still hadn't quite shaken off the stiffness that came from sleeping of a two-seater sofa, in a living room that belonged to a friend from school days passed. Her dark brown eyes hungrily drank in the scene of the city around her.
Back in Major Case Miriam met up with Eames and Goren, both of them about halfway through their first cup of coffee of the day. She grabbed a cup for herself, and settled down in an unoccupied chair, throwing her bag down beside it.
"Hey. So how was your first night in the big city?" Eames smiled, as she too settled down with her coffee.
"You mean this big city? Cramped, mostly."
Eames sniggered. "Really?"
"Oh yeah. This big city on a 'lean-on-your-old-college-friends' budget landed me on a sofa in Brooklyn. And that sofa wasn't made to accommodate a sleeping human."
Eames laughed. Goren on the other hand seemed not to notice the conversation between the two of them, already preoccupied with the black, leather bound book he and Miriam had found at the victims apartment the night before. Exchanging looks, Miriam and Eames turned in their chairs to join him. He sat, studying the pictures that had been fastened to the book's pages, all of them spread out on an area of his desk. Only when both women leaned in to get a closer look he seemed to notice that he wasn't alone in the room. The distraction displayed in his face at this apparently new observation was only fleeting, and it took only a second before he had turned one of the photos to face the two of them. Eames pointed to one of the people in the picture, a young woman with shoulder length black hair, a face so pale that it looked as if it was sculpted from the finest white marble, and almond shaped grey eyes that seemed oddly distant, like she was looking at something only she could see, even though she was looking straight into the camera.
"This one is Huntley's sister. Serena. She's the one who found him."
"And that's him in the middle," Miriam joined in, "he looked a lot better alive than he does dead."
The look she got from Eames seemed as a sort of reprimand for once again stating the obvious, but the tone of her voice, a sadness of sorts, suggested differently.
"Most people do, Miriam. Most people do."
Miriam could only nod.
"But who's this? I haven't seen her before."
Miriam pointed at a third person, another young woman, this one so physically different from Serena Huntley that it was almost strange to see the two of them in the same picture. This one was blonde to such a degree that her hair seemed almost white, her skin was also pale, but as opposed to Serena Huntley she had freckles, and bright blue eyes. Eames shrugged, her eyes finding Goren's across the desk.
"Kaye Kegler perhaps?"
"Could be. We need to find her."
Eames nodded, and her whole appearance revealed that she had waited for exactly those words.
"I'll start…see what I can dig up."
Goren held Eames' gaze for a moment, before he shifted it to Miriam.
"Do that. Miriam," there was a short pause, enough time for her to move all of her focus over to Goren, "I need you to decipher this." Like he had previously done with the photo, he flipped the leather bound book itself around so that it now faced Miriam instead of him. Stunned, Miriam looked down on the book's pages.
"Oh you have got to be kidding me!"
Looking up, she found herself again looking straight into Goren's eyes, and noticed that a mischievous smile was now present on his lips. She thought it similar to the one he had displayed when he had spooked her the first time they had been to Huntley's apartment, but she didn't dwell on the smile. She was too astonished over what she had just seen. "Are you telling me, for real, that Damien Huntley wrote his journal in runes?"
It seemed Goren could not help himself from smiling at the look of utter surprise on her face, but never the less he was quick to point out a flaw in her observation.
"Seeing as I don't read runes, there is really no way for us to be sure that really is a journal, unless you know anything that would suggest just that. What can you tell me about the book?"
Miriam shrugged.
"At first glance, not much. The victim was thorough, and left handed, but other than that…"
"What makes you say that?"
Miriam traced one finger around the pages of the opened book.
"Even though he was thorough, from what I can see he put some pride into making these pages appear as beautiful and flawless as possible, he used an ink pen, not a ballpoint, so the ink smeared slightly when his hand went through it."
She glanced up at him, and saw that he was still smiling.
"Spoken like an expert."
"Try experienced. If you had any idea how many times I've ended up with black or blue hands because of that."
She smiled back, before looking down in the book's pages once again.
"So, you don't know what it says either?" He said, with disappointment radiating from his voice, even though he tried to mask it out of courtesy to her.
"No. Not right off the bat like that, no. In my line of work you can be set to face letters from the Second World War one day, and a document dating back to the Civil War the next. I try to be versatile, but I'm not an expert in every historical period."
She saw the disappointment clearly written all over his face now, as if their case had just jumped several steps backwards simply because of her answer. She caught his glance, gave him a wry smile, and continued;
"But give me a few hours…"
The disappointment was gone from his eyes in a flash, and was just as quickly replaced with something that could only be described as pure eagerness. Smiling again, he cocked his head to one side, as if he was enjoying the fact that she was teasingly playing a game with him, however small.
Miriam stood up, and for a few moments she could look down upon this giant of a man, who seemed like such a gentle personality, yet there was something…something strong, powerful, and even frightening about him sometimes, something that was only vaguely visible in his eyes in moments when he forgot to mask it, that led her to believe that he was so much more than he was letting on.
She let her fingers glide over the smooth pages of the book one more time before she slammed it shut, and picked it up, the leather surprisingly cool in her hands, weighing it as if by doing that the book would begin to talk to her. Goren's attention was now turned from her and to the contents of the computer screen on his desk. Eames was nowhere in sight. Suddenly she was on her own again, but she didn't mind. She felt her curiosity being rattled by the mysterious book, and even though she had started to feel sorry for Damien Huntley she couldn't wait to get her hands on his secrets. She knew she should perhaps feel a bit guilty because of it, but whatever guilt she had it was overridden by the ever present curiosity. But it wasn't so much the secrets the book possibly held, it was the challenge of deciphering them that caught her the most. With one last glance around her she grabbed her bag from where she had thrown it, and prepared to leave. Just before she was about to exit the room, she heard Goren's voice call her back.
"Where are you going?"
Turning, she saw him looking up from his computer screen. The moment was too good to pass up, and she couldn't resist quipping a simple;
"You know where to find me."
And he would, she knew he would. From what she could tell he read people as easily as she read her books. She would not be difficult to read for him, but never the less, it was fun to make him try.
A slight smile played around his lips as he watched her back move away from him. She seemed to have fun testing him, like she was trying to figure out just how good he was at his job. But something else, something in her eyes, and her smile, told him that she already knew. It was as if they were both playing a game with the other, not of deception but of exploration, each of them slowly peeling away thin layers of the others personality, but at the same time knowing that neither of them would never get to the bottom.
Just as he ripped himself out of that train of thought, Eames appeared again, sliding into a chair on the desk opposite him.
"Now, if you're done flirting with the newbie, I know who the unknown girl in the picture is and where to find her."
He eyed his partner, and found a roguish smile on her face, like she had when she was teasing him about something, but also a flash in her eyes that she always had when she knew they were about to get somewhere.
"I wasn't flirting…" he said, with a sheepish smile on his face, that he knew, after knowing her for years, wouldn't be able to fool her.
"Ok…" Eames said with a hesitation that clearly meant that there was more to that sentence.
"So if you aren't flirting, why do you let her play these little games with you? Usually you're the one who plays games…"
He didn't answer, partly because he didn't know what to say. He hadn't really given much thought to the fact that what they were doing was a kind of game. It had come so naturally, as a method of intellectual exploration. He had enjoyed seeing her come into a setting that was in no way familiar to her, and thrive in the face of a challenge.
He changed the subject.
"Who's the girl?"
Eames shrugged, knowing when her partner found it in his best interest to clam up about his personal life, if his life did indeed have a section of his life that could be described as personal. Sometimes it seemed like his life existed only in the hours everyday that they spent together working their cases, and as if every aspect that should belong in his personal life found their way into the space of those hours.
"Kaye Kegler, just as we thought. She wasn't difficult to track, she's a freshman at Columbia…Political Science, just like the vic."
"And?"
There was more to that sentence as well, he had worked with Eames long enough to know that.
"And she works at a printing agency."
"Which could explain the source of the ink we found in the victim's apartment. Let's go talk to Ms. Kegler, shall we?" Eames only smiled, the same roguish smile, and gave a quick nod.
They found Kaye Kegler in an apartment building in Queens, a building that had definitely seen brighter and better days. The door that would lead them into Kaye Kegler's apartment looked slightly crooked, like it didn't fit entirely in its framework, and even the numbers telling them that this was indeed apartment number 153 looked askew. Goren knocked, no answer came. He knocked again, more insistently this time, still nothing. As he prepared to knock a third time, a voice came from behind them. Both Goren and Eames spun around.
"Can I help you with something?"
The voice belonged to a young woman, instantly recognizable, with the white-blonde hair and strikingly blue eyes, from the picture found in Damien Huntley's possession. She was dressed casually in jeans and a white tank top, with a red, oversized cardigan jacket over. On her feet was a pair of Converse All-Star's as brightly red as her cardigan. She was carrying a laundry basket filled with wet clothes.Eames, acting as through instinct alone, instantly took the lead.
"I'm Detective Eames from NYPD Major Case; this is my partner Detective Goren. We're looking for Kaye Kegler."
The young woman seemed a bit surprised by the sudden serious turn of the situation, but never the less she answered dutifully.
"I'm Kaye Kegler. What can I help you with, detectives?"
"We're investigating the murder of Damien Huntley…Could we come in for a minute?"
Most of the color drained from the young woman's face at the mention of the name, but she nodded, rather absentmindedly.
"Yes-I…I heard about that."
Rather gingerly Kaye Kegler fished a keychain out of her jeans pocket, and proceeded to unlock the door of her apartment. With a well placed foot she managed to hold the door open for the two detectives, while balancing her laundry basket to a safe place on the floor of the hall.
Kaye Kegler's apartment consisted of the usual somewhat organized chaos of a young person on their own in life for the first time, enjoying their newfound freedom. Books and magazines lay scattered on most of the available surfaces, as well as some CDs and the occasional beauty product.
"Sorry about the mess," the young woman said apologetically with a sheepish smile over her shoulder to the two detectives. However messy the rest of the apartment was, the couch that was crammed into a corner of the living room was almost strangely free of the clutter that filled the rest of the room. The young woman let herself fall down between the pillows in a cloud of brilliant, long, blonde hair. Eames followed, but remained standing.
"How well did you know Damien Huntley?"
Kaye Kegler shrugged.
"His sister, Serena, introduced me to him when I started Columbia. We hit it off, he would help me out on occasion if I had trouble understanding some of my classes… but we weren't a couple, like his mother thought. Just friends, pretty good friends, but still…just friends."
"I understand," Eames said calmly, before continuing,
"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt him, in any way?"
The expression on the young woman's face changed, her eyes widened in horror, as if it only now occurred to her that someone had actually been wanting to hurt Damien Huntley.
"No, he was…he was a good guy. At least that's the way I saw him…I never did get the chance to meet many of his friends, though, so if one of them hated his guts I wouldn't be able to tell you."
Eames nodded, and almost unmarkably changed her approach.
"How well do you know Serena Huntley?"Again, the young woman sitting on the couch shrugged.
"A bit better that I knew her brother, I suppose, but I haven't really known her for much longer."
"How was the relationship between Serena and Damien?" Eames inquired, masterly camouflaging her relentless search from a viable motive from her voice.
"Fine, I suppose. Damien was…I mean, he was nice and all, but he had some strange areas of interest. Old Norse gods, myths and worldview and I don't know what else…I never understood why he was so deep into it, I mean, he had everything going for him, he didn't need the 'cool outsider' stamp on him. Serena was shy, almost introvert at first. I didn't understand why she came and struck up a friendship with me, of all people. She was not much of a people person, but extremely protective of those she knew. Damien especially…"
Kaye fell silent, and so, for a moment, did Eames. Looking around she found no trace of her partner, something which didn't initially surprise her. She was used to him lurking around the home of a potential suspect, and sometimes she did wonder in all honesty if he was looking for clues or if he was just trying his best to piss off the respective home owners, whether suspects or harmless witnesses.
A sudden crash coming from an adjacent room brought an abrupt end to the silence. Eames' hand instinctively positioned itself over the holster that held her service weapon. Moving as quickly as she could while constantly telling herself not to rush, Eames moved back through the living room and towards the hallway. She came as far as the doorway between the two rooms before she saw the source of the commotion.
"Goren! What the hell?!"
"What the fuck are you doing in my wardrobe?!?"
Kaye Kegler had followed Eames into the hallway, and was now observing a six foot four New York City police detective trying to untangle himself from a mess of shelves and hangers. Eames fought hard to disguise a grin, but failed miserably, which in turn earned her a furious look from Kaye Kegler. In a second Eames had turned serious again, raising an eyebrow at Goren, as if to say; 'this would be a good time to start explaining yourself'.
Goren, by now out of the wardrobe, turned to survey his unintentional audience.
"Sorry about that," he said, looking at Kaye Kegler as if had just knocked over a cheap porcelain trinket that had been a gift from her great aunt, and not refurbished her entire wardrobe.
The young woman stared back at him with a mixture of anger and utter disbelief. Goren didn't seem to take notice of that, and instead continued;
"You have ink on one of your shoes."
Eames eyes shifted from Goren to the younger woman standing beside her, silently looking for any reaction, knowing that a few steps away Goren was doing the exact same thing. The reaction they both saw was almost instant, and defensive.
"So what? I work at a printing agency…"
Goren looked at Eames with a look that signaling that she should continue asking the questions, while holding up a high-heeled leather shoe by one of the straps. The heel of the shoe shone black in contrast to the rest of it, almost glinting in the dim light of the hall.
"Do you usually wear high heels to work, Miss Kegler?" Eames asked, not missing a beat.
Whatever defenses Kaye Kegler had built up were about to be broken down, and it seemed that she knew, because although her appearance was still defensive, something in her eyes betrayed her. She was afraid, and had every right to be, because she was about to stare a murder charge right in the face.
"This places you at the crime scene, Miss Kegler. And right now, you're our most likely suspect. I'm starting to like you for this murder. If you have a good explanation that can make me think otherwise, now is the time to start talking."
Eames voice was calm, and she spoke slowly, knowing that a panicking suspect wasn't a positive thing.
"I didn't kill him! I swear I didn't…"
"Then why were you in his apartment?"
"Because he'd invited me! Or, at least that's what I thought… He texted me earlier that day, asking if I wanted to come by his apartment later…"
Eames raised an eyebrow, which didn't go unnoticed by the woman beside her.
"It wasn't like that. I told you we weren't a couple. We were friends, we hung out. Mostly at his place. I went over there after I'd finished my lectures that afternoon. That's where it got strange, to say the least… He didn't answer the door, and that sort of scared me, because he was usually pretty quick about that. I stood there for a few minutes, waiting, before I tried the door. It was open…so I went in. I thought that he might be so caught up in something that he hadn't heard me knocking."
"Was that like him?" Goren asked quietly.
"Oh yeah," Kaye Kegler nodded,
"he'd hover over his books for hours on end, some huge tomes that I wouldn't even touch with a pair of pliers. I never understood why all that mythology stuff he was into was so important to him, but it was…so I just let it slide. Figured that it was part of who he was, or who he tried to be…and I tried to respect him for that. I mean, I liked him, he was my friend…"
"Let's go back to what you saw, Miss Kegler," Eames continued, "You came into the apartment, and then what?"
"It was dark. I couldn't see anything at first… The air was heavy, warm, it was difficult to breathe. I don't know if it was incense or what it was… There were a few candles burning, I could see that when my eyes got used to the room. And then…"
Kaye Kegler froze, and the look in her eyes told Goren that in this moment she wasn't seeing him or Eames, she was seeing whatever it was that she had seen walking into Damien Huntley's apartment, and by her eyes he could tell that whatever it was, it had scared her.
"What did you see, Kaye?" Asked Goren gently, as if trying to coax information out of a skeptical child.
Kaye Kegler's eyes found his, and with them she silently pleaded him to get her through this.
"I saw Damien first…he was…he was lying on the desk, that big marble thing in his living room."
Tears sprung from her eyes and ran down her cheeks, but she didn't bother to wipe them away.
"Then…I saw the sword…and…"She stopped, fighting even harder not to break down in tears. Slowly Goren walked over to her, only now seeing the time fit to approach.
"Kaye, look at me," he said softly, carefully gripping her shoulders so she had no choice but to face him.
"You saw who did this to your friend, didn't you Kaye?"
With a terrified look on her face, she nodded.
"Tell us. He was your friend, and from what you've told us he was a good friend to you. Do right by him, Kaye."
"You don't understand… I'm between a rock and a hard place here."
"Why?"
"Because…I am about to choose one friend over another."Goren cocked his head slightly to one side, and surveyed the young woman now standing right in front of him. Then he nodded almost unnoticeably.
"Give me the name, Kaye. I need to hear it from you."
Kaye Kegler seemed undecided for a minute, then nodded and straightened up like she was readying herself to weather out a storm. Then she opened her mouth and spoke two words.
"Serena Huntley"
