Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the TV series, Hawaii Five-0.
You Owe Me
Part 3
By
N. J. Borba
A prolonged yawn escaped as he turned over for the third time in as many minutes.
Steve tried to stretch his legs, but the too-short black sofa in his office wouldn't yield to his lanky form. Left or right side, back or front, he couldn't find a comfortable position. He finally gave up on sleep and opened his eyes, feeling extremely unrested. All the coffee consumption from the previous night had helped to keep him awake searching Chin's security footage, but it had also kept him from being able to get more than about three hours of sleep in a six hour period.
He swung his legs off the sofa, bare feet making contact with the floor. Steve rested both elbows against his knees and rubbed his eyes.
Despite how sluggish he was feeling, Steve smiled when his office door opened and Catherine stepped inside. Feeling a renewed spark of energy in her presence, he stood and moved around his desk to greet her. "This is a nice surprise. I didn't think I was going to see you this morning," Steve was about to move in for a kiss when she side-stepped him. "Shouldn't you be at work by now, or are you slacking your last week?" he sported a one-sided grin as he teased her.
Catherine stood before him in her Navy camies, hair pulled back tight, hands on her hips. But she didn't say a single word.
"What are you doing here?" he asked again. "Is something wrong?" Steve was more than a little worried by her odd behavior. Even though he'd made the joke, he knew she'd never slack at her job, not even down to the last minute of service.
"Yes, something is wrong," the words spilled over her lips in a huff of breath that bordered on anger. "The next time you have an HPD patrol check up on me at my house, why don't you just tell them to knock on the door and ask me if I'm okay?" her eyes were wide as she barely took a breath between sentences. "I chased an office named Nelson down my back alley last night and nearly blew his head off. The poor guy was so scared he could barely say anything. That's what's wrong."
Steve winced as he listened to her story. "I just asked them to drive by your place a few times last night, not get out and check the house. I specifically told them to be discrete and not let you know they were watching the place," he sighed.
"Oh, well, then it was their fault," Catherine snapped. "Clearly not your fault," she shook her head and moved toward the door.
"Cath, wait a sec…" Steve called after her.
But she was out of his office and barreling toward the main exit without another word or a glance in his direction.
Danny opened the side glass door just as Catherine was exiting.
"Hi, Catherine," he said cheerfully. "Bye, Catherine," the man added as she rushed past him without even acknowledging his presence. Danny immediately spotted the unhappy look on his partner's face. "Something going on there?" he pointed over his shoulder to where Catherine had disappeared down the hall. "I don't think I've ever seen her mad before," Danny commented. "To be honest, I didn't think she got mad." When Steve didn't offer any information, Danny guessed exactly what was wrong. "She found out about the patrol you had watching her last night," his head shook. "Told you that was a bad idea."
"I don't care," Steve responded grumpily as he moved toward the main computer. "I'd do it again. I'd rather have her alive and pissed at me than the alternative."
"Hey, I know you've been a little obsessed about her safety since what happened with El Condor," Danny sympathized with his friend. He'd threatened to not even let Grace go to school after she'd been abducted. "But you do remember the part where Catherine is a trained Navy officer, right? The woman walked in to North Korea with you. I'm pretty sure she can handle herself." He saw the glare Steve was shooting his direction. "I'm just saying," Danny held his hands up.
Realizing he was being relentless, Steve's shoulders sagged a little. "I know, Danny," he acknowledged the man. "And she reminds me."
"You two look like you got about as much sleep as I did," Chin observed as he exited his office and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.
"Chin, were you able to find anything out about our guy from Belmar Courier service?" Steve asked, ready to get back into the case. Their security camera footage search the night before had yielded nothing and they were all tired, but Steve was not about to give up on Dugan. There were still plenty of stones left unturned including talking to her co-workers, searching her house, figuring out what the courier service knew, and determining if the pictures of Catherine and Billy had any connection to Dugan's death.
With a quick tap-swipe of the computer controls, Chin brought up the image of a young man with blonde hair, blue eyes and a bit of a scowl. "Nathan Joyce is the guy who delivered the package yesterday," Chin conveyed the information. "Thing is, I finally got ahold of their distribution warehouse this morning, and the package Joyce delivered to you wasn't registered with Belmar. They have no paperwork to back it up and apparently Joyce didn't show for work this morning."
The screen shifted a little to reveal a police arrest photo of the same man. "He's done some time for breaking and entering as well as assault," Chin revealed. "I've got his home address for you, but I have an ER doctor to talk to this morning."
Steve turned to Danny. "Guess that leaves you and me to pay Joyce a visit."
Danny glanced down at his partner's bare feet. "You might want to put some shoes on first," he suggested.
000
They stood outside a rundown bungalow with peeling white paint, boarded up windows and a porch roof that was about to cave in.
"I'm guessing Belmar doesn't pay very well," Danny remarked as they stepped lightly on the front porch, worried they might fall through the rotten floor boards at any moment. Danny knocked. The sound of shuffling could be heard from inside, followed by a dull thunk and then a rather loudly exclaimed explicative. "Someone's home," Danny grinned.
The door swung open and a man stood before them, bouncing on one foot. "God damned roommate never cleans up his sh…" the man looked up at his visitors. "Hey, what's up?"
Steve noticed his blonde hair was slightly longer than in his mug-shot and his eyes were bloodshot, but he was definitely their guy. "Not much, what's up with you?" he acted casually.
"Nada, brah," Joyce drawled. "Just stubbed my toe, totally not cool." He stood there in jeans and flip-flops, staring wordlessly at them for a second. "So, like, if you're looking for Manny, 'fraid he's not here right now. And I gotta fly so…"
Danny spied a black duffle bag by the door. "You going on some sort of trip?" the question was not in reference to his current state of drug induced flight, but it could've been, "You trying to flee town, Joyce?" Danny tipped their hand by using the man's name.
"Oh, shit," Nathan Joyce swore as he stumbled backwards a few steps. "You guys aren't here for Manny," he realized before turning and taking off for the back of the house.
"Steve, he's running," Danny needlessly pointed out as he pulled his weapon and began a pursuit.
"Yeah, I see that," Steve recognized, backing his way out the door. "I'm going around, gimpy can't get too far!" He jumped off the porch and spun to his left. A wooden side gate hung open on loose hinges and Steve collided with it on his way to the backyard. He caught sight of their perp limp-running across the lawn. There was no back fence so Joyce headed straight out into the street. "Why do they always try to run?" Steve mumbled to himself as Danny caught up with him.
Even in his drugged state, with a stubbed toe and flip-flops, Joyce ran decently fast. Steve knew people had a tendency to do that when they were on an adrenaline rush. Joyce led them around the derelict neighborhood, passing through the backyard of a daycare and ducking in to a narrow building that seemed to be some sort of homeless shelter. As he kept up pursuit, Steve heard a distinct rumble coming down the street. He knew the area well enough to anticipate the man's next move.
"Danny!" Steve shouted to his partner and pointed toward a cut off location about a block ahead of them. McGarrett sprinted and caught up with their guy a few feet from the bus stop where Steve had been expecting their perp to try and catch a getaway ride. "Not so fast, pal," he said as Joyce was inches away from waving down the bus.
One of Steve's hands managed to grab the guy's shoulder, but it slipped off when Nathan Joyce ducked and rolled across the sidewalk. There was no doubt in Steve's mind that the guy would be caught, but he had to give him props for being wily. Not seeing Danny on the street, Steve hoped he was in position as he followed Nathan toward the closest available hideout. He watched Joyce dart inside the Laundromat, glancing over his shoulder from time to time. "That's right, keep your eyes on me," Steve whispered to himself.
McGarrett leapt over a bank of washing machines, sliding across the slick white surface of one until he landed on his feet. He finally pulled his weapon, having Nathan cornered toward the back of the building. "Joyce, there's nowhere to go!" Steve warned. The man didn't bother to stop, though, despite the threat of a weapon. He made a last ditch effort and lunged for the back door. Joyce turned toward the open door and ran right in to Danny's outstretched arm, which dropped him like a ragdoll.
One of the laundry room patrons called out from across the room in a jovial tone, "Dude just got clotheslined in a Laundromat, sweet!"
"Little tip, always keep an eye out for what's ahead of you," Steve uttered as he stood over Joyce's supine body.
"I knew this would come back and bite me on the ass," Joyce complained as he lay groaning on the dirty floor. "Easy money is never easy," he muttered as Steve hauled him to his feet.
"You're a bloody genius," Danny remarked as he massaged his sore arm.
Less than twenty minutes later, Danny and Steve had Joyce cuffed to the metal chair in their sublevel interrogation room. Blue light cast shadows on the walls as they questioned their man. "HPD found fifteen grand in your travel bag," Steve stood about three feet in front of their suspect, arms folded across his chest. "That's a lot of cash for a guy with a part-time courier job. Did your friend Manny help you out with other means of staying afloat?"
"Manny's good people," Joyce shrugged.
Danny scoffed. "That may be, but we found thirty marijuana plants in his bedroom. What do you know about those?"
"Look, guys," Nathan Joyce did his best to sit up straight and look presentable. "I never had nothing to do with Manny's business," his poor English skills made him sound like an even bigger doofus. "That fifteen large came from a job I did on my own. Some dude calls me and says he needs a package delivered, easy as can be right? The envelope shows up in my mailbox overnight. I deliver it like he asks and the next day I find payment in the dumpster down the street from where I live."
Steve wondered how a person could be so clueless as to think that was a legitimate deal. "This guy have a name?" he asked.
"No way," Joyce's head shook. "Dude clearly didn't want to be known. Truth be told I don't know what the guy sounded like. The voice on my phone was all garbled. You know, like they do in movies sometimes when the guy kidnaps someone and changes his voice to not be detected. Kinda cool, actually," he concluded.
"Cool, huh?" Danny scoffed. "Is it cool that you delivered photos of someone being stalked? This guy you spoke to could be after someone we care a lot about. Is that cool to you?"
Joyce looked down at the floor. "Man, I just needed some cash. Too many people are after me these days."
"What do you know about Cathleen Dugan?" Steve switched subjects a little.
Joyce shrugged the best he could while cuffed to the chair. "Never heard of her. Honest, man."
Danny and Steve shared a quick glance, neither of them thinking Joyce had anything to do with Dugan. "You have a number for who paid you to deliver those pictures?" Steve asked.
"Sure, it's on my cell," Nathan Joyce easily agreed. "We good now? I can go?"
"Oh yeah, we're good. And you're going," Steve nodded as he stood beside the man and unfastened the cuffs from the chair. "We're going to give you a nice clean jail cell to stay in for a while," he let the man know, re-cuffing Joyce's wrists behind his back. "Actually I can't be sure how clean the place will be. But you should be safe from your enemies there. Although I can't say you won't make more while you're in there." He turned to Danny. "Book 'em, Danno."
"Gladly," Danny didn't even balk at the use of his nickname.
000
"How you holding up?" Danny asked as his partner used a key to unlock the front door of Dugan's house.
They'd arranged to get the key from a neighbor who'd been given it by Dugan's mother in case of emergency. Steve pushed the heavy wood door open, but the carpeted floor caused the door to get stuck about halfway open. "I should be asking how you are," he remarked, glancing over at his partner as he gave the door a good shove. "You hurt your arm?"
"I'll probably have a bruised arm tomorrow, thank you for asking," Danny smiled as he watched the door give way, which caused Steve to stumble forward further in to the room. "And you, my friend, are doing an excellent job at avoiding the question. I can tell that Catherine's visit this morning rattled you. You want to talk about it?"
Steve sighed as he glanced around the room. Everything was very tidy. A beige sofa with colorful quilts folded and draped over the arms. One very small TV in the corner. A built-in cabinet with glass doors. Inside the display cabinet were dozens of small porcelain figurines. Most of them looked like little kids to Steve. A girl with an old-school slate writing tablet. A little boy walking a gray puppy on a leash. Two large bookcases spanned floor to ceiling, flanking the shorter display case. On one shelf some of the titles caused Steve to grimace; The Breast Cancer Diagnosis, Living With Cancer, How Cancer Affects Your Family.
"I've just never heard her raise her voice like that before," Steve finally said as he turned away from the books. "Not in all the years I've known her. Even last Christmas when she wasn't happy about my special plans for the last few days before her leave ended, she just calmly explained that she preferred a meal at a restaurant. Never raised her voice."
"Well, do you think maybe she's a little freaked by all of this?" Danny asked. "Seeing those pictures, thinking it could have something to do with Harrington, who she considers a friend and is about to work with. That's scary."
"Never seen her scared before, either," Steve realized, flipping through a stack of gardening magazines beside the sofa. "Like you said this morning, she walked in to North Korea with me. She's seen a lot of bad stuff."
"Do you two ever talk about it, though?" Danny pressed the matter a little more. "What I've learned is that women like to talk things out. And given the fact I have an eleven-year-old daughter, I do a lot of talking about feelings. It could be that Catherine is worried about telling you she's afraid. Maybe she thinks you'll see it as some sign of weakness from her."
"Why would she think that?" Steve was quick to be defensive. "I'd never judge her for being scared."
"But does she know that?" Danny tried to tread lightly. "I'm just saying, you are a very masculine guy. Rough and tough Navy SEAL man. You hardly ever let your emotions show. Maybe Catherine feels like she needs to be the same way in order to be an equal partner for you."
That suggestion distressed Steve more than he cared to admit. "I never thought about it like that. I hope she doesn't feel that way."
"Look, I know from experience that fighting can be a healthy thing, and make-up sex… well, Rachael and I pretty much had that perfected," Danny mumbled the last few words. "Just be sure not to let it linger too long," he doled out some unsolicited advice. "You could actually go talk to her now if you want. I can handle this," he offered, motioning to the room.
"No," Steve concentrated his efforts on the house. "I need to do this right now. Catherine and I have a dinner date tonight," he said as he moved down the hall.
He was good at shutting down personal problems in order to deal with a case or a mission. Steve stalked through the house with a detective's eye. The place was small but perfectly functional. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. Kitchen, living and dining areas. The rest of the space was as well-kept as the living room. Beds made, bathtub sparkling and not a single dirty dish in the kitchen sink. Steve didn't find anything out of the ordinary until he opened the bottom drawer of a file cabinet in one of the bedrooms.
"Danny, come take a look at these!" Steve called to his partner who was in another room. When Danny appeared in the doorway Steve held up a business sized envelope. "Medical bills," Steve declared. "All of these are in Nancy Dugan's name. Cathleen's mother."
"There must be hundreds of them," Danny remarked as he sifted through the cabinet with Steve. "I can't even pronounce some of these medical procedures," he squinted at one very long word but decided not to try butchering it.
Steve nodded his agreement. "Looks like most of these are past due," he flipped through the envelopes. "Final, final notices."
"Never figured how doctors could keep collecting after a person died," Danny shook his head in disgust.
"Just because the person died, doesn't mean the doctors don't deserve to be paid," Steve defended. "They do a job just like anyone else. You know, Chin was only looking at Dugan's financial accounts not her mother's. And if Cathleen was left with this kind of debt…" he sighed. "She may have gotten in with the wrong sort of people to help pay for it."
Danny nodded as he helped Steve snap some cell phone photos of the bills to send to Chin.
Both of them stopped short when a sound echoed from down the hallway. Steve had a hand on the weapon at his side as he moved in to the hall, Danny at his back. The two of them walked slowly until a scratching sound caused them to spin around and face the wooden door behind them. "What is that, a closet?" Steve whispered.
With a shrug, Danny placed a hand against the nob and slowly turned it. Steve stood at the ready.
The door opened and a bundle of orange fur lunged at them with a boisterous yowl.
"Jeez!" Danny exclaimed, taking a step backward. "A cat jumping out of a laundry room, how cliché," he mumbled. "What's up with the laundry theme today?"
Another angry hiss from the volatile feline was aimed at Danny as the cat stalked toward him. The animal struck out at Danny's gray pants. "I think he likes you," Steve chuckled and dropped the hand that had been poised on his weapon. "Did you find anything else in the other bedroom?" he asked.
"Clothes and jewelry," Danny replied as he tried to gently shoo the cat away from him.
Steve mulled over their findings. "Do you find it odd that there's no computer here? Dugan does engineering drafting work, right? But she doesn't own a computer? Seems strange."
"Maybe she has one at work," Danny suggested.
"Could be," Steve nodded. "But there's very little technology in this house. Small TV but no DVD player, and no land line phones. Lots of books, though, and magazines."
Danny chuckled. "Believe it or not some people like to read. I'm trying to teach Grace the joy of reading, actually. Did you know they don't even have kids give book reports in school anymore? What's up with that? Lazy teaching if you ask me. All kids read is the internet, and don't even get me started on texting. That is not English."
Steve was barely listening as he discovered a door from the house in to the garage. He flipped on a light switch in the garage and spotted something interesting. "Danny, look," he pointed to the large black case taking up a decent amount of space in the garage. Steve went to unzip the bulky bag. "This is Dugan's windsurfing board and equipment."
"So what was she doing up north without it?" Danny voiced the same thing he guessed his partner was thinking.
"Dugan could've been taken from here. But there were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house," Steve tried to work it out in his head but was coming up blank. Without a second thought, Steve called for a CSU to go over the place. "They'll be here in a half hour. And we have a meeting with Chin to talk to Dugan's co-workers."
"We're just going to leave the cat?" Danny asked as they walked to the front door. The orange tabby cat batted at Danny's leg again.
"No, I guess not," Steve said. "That thing is likely to ruin any fingerprints in this place. Grab it and we'll drop it off at a shelter on our way to Dugan's office."
Danny's head shook. "I'm not grabbing it."
McGarrett frowned. "I thought you liked animals?"
"Dogs. I like dogs," Danny clarified as he eyed the cat. "Cats I find to be useless. You can't train them and they're lazy. Also, I've seen Pet Cematary," he shuddered.
"Then get a bag or something," Steve shrugged.
"Steven, I know you have no love for those of the four legged variety and I realize I just denounced the cat population, but even I know that you cannot put a hissing cat in a bag. It's cruel. Besides, that thing is likely to rip a hole in my car interior. You should know if you destroy another of my Camaros you're buying the next one," Danny threatened.
"Fine, we'll toss it in the trunk then."
With wide eyes, Danny shook his head. "Have you no humanity at all?" he made a move toward the cat but the animal hissed again.
"How hard can it be?" Steve took a step toward the cat, crouched down and scooped up the animal. The feline immediately curled up, closed his eyes and began to purr in Steve's arms.
"Un-freaking-believable," Danny grumbled. "I get a bruised arm and hissed at today, and you turn out to be Saint Francis of Assisi." His mood shifted suddenly, though, and he smiled as they walked out to the car. "Guess this means I get to drive."
Steve glared at the relaxed cat in his arms. "Thanks a lot, buddy."
000
"What took you so long in there?" Danny asked. "I was about to come in after you."
Realizing Danny was staying put in the driver's seat, Steve resigned himself to the passenger side again and pulled on his seatbelt. "The cat had some separation anxiety issues," Steve revealed as he showed Danny the red scratches on his arms. He could see his partner trying not to laugh. "Feeling better now?"
"A little," Danny admitted with an amused snicker.
He drove them to the building on Merchant Street. Inside the main lobby a large sign directed them to: MLC, an Architectural Company, taking up five floors of the building. Below that sign was a newer, smaller, placard that read: Harrington Private Security – Sixth Floor. Steve had also noticed the construction van parked outside the building and he guessed Billy was starting work on the new office space. Chin greeted them on the second floor, just outside the main office level of the architectural firm.
"Were you able to find out anything more about Nancy Dugan's medical history?" Steve asked.
"Plenty, and it's not a nice story. About three years ago Nancy Dugan found one mass in her left breast," Chin relayed. "They removed it, but it spread to the right side and within a few months they'd found multiple tumors. After two years of aggressive chemo and radiation therapies, she had a double mastectomy and still the cancer persisted," Chin sighed, almost grateful that Malia had died quicker. "It spread in to her lymph nodes and in the end there was just no way they could fight it. It attacked her whole body. The hospital stays, surgeries, the bills amount to nearly quarter of a million in out-of-pocket patient costs," he revealed.
Steve couldn't help think of the women in his life as he listened to the tale. "Any word from Charlie?" he shifted topics.
Chin nodded. "More bad news. Fong determined that Joyce's caller was using a burner phone, untraceable. And he couldn't find any prints on those pictures of Catherine and Harrington. Charlie did determine they were developed using a common ink jet printer and store bought photo paper, but that stuff is all over the place."
"So someone printed them from home?" Danny guessed.
"Making it impossible to trace as well," Chin regretfully informed them. He focused his efforts on the office they were standing outside. "MLC stands for Myer, Lawson and Chase who are the three co-partners in this firm. They also have seven other associates, one receptionist, two office managers, ten architectural drafters, a landscape architect, a full-time electrical engineering consultant and a structural engineering consultant, which was Dugan," Chin explained as he walked them through the door.
They entered a high-ceilinged reception space. Old world architecture with modern flare. The walls were a crisp white, floors were old-school wide plank wood. Metal benches lined one wall and a receptionist sat behind a raised wood and marble countertop. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" the woman addressed them cordially.
"We're here to see Martin Chase," Steve flashed his Five-0 badge.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Chase left Sunday morning on a business trip," she replied. "He's attending the AIA Committee on Architecture for Education Fall Conference in San Francisco this week."
Danny's brow raised, "How convenient."
Undeterred, Steve continued. "Then we need to speak with anyone else here who worked with Cathleen Dugan."
The woman nodded, her eyes lowered a little and her demeanor turned solemn. "I can't believe she's dead. Everyone here worked with her in some way," she stood and walked around from behind her desk. "I'm Beth, I'll show you to Cathleen's office first. And I'll let everyone know you're here. You can use her office to talk to them."
"Why is this place so huge?" Danny inquired. "Five floors?"
"We're one of the largest design firms in Hawaii. Ground floor is for printing and copying," Beth explained, "Second floor for our offices. Third floor is drafting and 3D modeling studio space. Fourth floor is for our continuing education classrooms and reference library. Fifth floor is for clients, conference room and presentation space."
"Did you know Dugan very well?" Chin asked as they walked down a wide, brightly lit hall lined by glass-front offices.
Beth's head shook. "She was here two years, but outside of work we didn't socialize much. Cathleen was burdened by caring for her mother. She never seemed to have time to do much else, at least not that I was ever aware." She opened the door to one of the glass-fronted offices and waved them inside.
"That her laptop?" Danny pointed to the silver notebook computer closed atop the desk.
"Office owned," Beth nodded. "But she carted it home for business and personal use. Is there anything else you need right now? Coffee? Tea?"
"Thanks, no," Steve let the woman leave.
Chin powered up the laptop. He wasn't surprised when a screen popped up asking for a password. He typed in Dugan's name at first, trying different combinations. Next he attempted to use her mother's name. "Password protected," he finally informed the other two in the room. "I just tried Navy and Lieutenant. Any other suggestions?"
"Semper fi?" Danny threw out.
Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Semper Fidelis is the Marines."
Danny rolled his eyes. "Excuse me. What's the Navy motto?"
"Unofficially, Non Sibi Sed Patrai," Steve replied. "Not for self, but for country," he translated.
With swift key strokes, Chin tried both Latin and English versions in a further attempt to crack Dugan's password. "Nope," he reported.
"What was that cat's name?" Steve turned to Danny for an answer. "Did it have a collar? I don't remember."
"Not a clue," Danny couldn't help.
As they waited for their first co-worker to interview, Steve glanced around Dugan's office and spied more of the same porcelain figurines he'd seen at her house. "Chin, what did you call these things that Dugan collected, Hummer or something?"
"Uh, Hummel, I think," Chin recalled. He typed it in to the computer. "Nice, I'm in."
The first person they spoke to was Keith Myer, the oldest of the three partners. He had gray hair but a tall, muscular physique.
"I spoke with an ER doctor this morning that treated Dugan for a few minor injuries," Chin addressed the man, abandoning his computer search for a moment. "They were required to perform an assessment of her wounds, but they determined they didn't believe the injuries had to do with abuse. Did she ever mention different to you?"
Myer's head shook. "No. Wind surfing was something she always wanted to do and after her mother died she started to realize how short life was. She didn't want to waste what time she had left. I admired that about her. My thirteen year old daughter and I went out with her several times the last few months, and Cathy was pretty famous for bruising herself somehow. She was clumsy. Once dropped a toner barrel for the large copier downstairs and ended up with blank ink all over her hands and clothes."
Steve knew Dugan had been drugged before her death and her board was in the garage, so an accident was still out as far as he was concerned. "Did you invite Cathleen on these excursions or was it the other way around?"
"Usually I was the one to initiate them," Myer said. "I didn't marry till later in life, my wife is a bit younger and therefore so are my kids. But I'm still old enough to be Cathy's father and she told me her dad died when she was ten. We became close. My wife and I invited her to family functions on occasion. Cathy and her mother Nancy were proud people, but they spent last Christmas with us. Nancy was…" he sighed. "So thin and weak. We knew she wouldn't make it. We were there for the funeral, there for Cathy."
The man spoke for a few more minutes but wasn't able to shed any sort of light on who might have wanted Dugan dead.
Melanie Lawson, a slight woman, mid-thirties with short blonde hair, was the firm's third partner.
She wore bronze-colored metal glasses and stood in Dugan's office as if she were made of stone. "You should know that Dugan and I did not really get along well," Lawson began. "It wasn't personal, she seemed nice enough. But as a woman in this business it's taken me a long time to climb the latter. I see every woman in this office as a potential threat to my position, aside from the receptionist," she coolly relayed. "Any structural work I needed help on I'd confer with Chase and he'd pass it along to Dugan. Those two were very tight."
"How tight?" Steve was curious.
Lawson shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were sleeping together," she said nonchalantly.
"Anything to back up that presumption?" Danny probed.
"No," Melanie shook her head. "But Chase has always been tight-lipped about his private life. I just figured."
"Thanks for your help," Chin showed her the door and eyed his partners. "Well, she was friendly," he said once the woman was out of hearing range. "I haven't found much on Dugan's laptop. Mostly drawings she was working on. However, I did uncover an email folder I can't access. Tried the Hummel password again but it didn't work this time. I was going to take it over to Charlie, see if he can help me unlock it. Unless you think you need me here?"
Steve dismissed Chin with a grateful look, "Nah, I'd rather you get access to those emails."
After Chin left they spoke to the rest of the office, from associates down to office managers. They mostly got more of the same. Dugan was quiet, kept to herself. Her mother's illness was a huge priority for Cathleen. No one could fathom her having any sort of enemies. "Well, aside from Lawson, no one here seems like they have it in for Dugan," Steve concluded.
"Lawson is a lightweight," Danny dismissed. "Chip on her shoulder, but not the type to off someone for her job's sake."
"I agree," Steve said. "And she and Dugan were in different leagues work-wise. We should focus on tracking down Chase."
Danny glanced down at his watch, not surprised so much time had passed while they'd been questioning the large office. "Or…" he eyed his partner. "It's just after five and Catherine is probably home by now. Why don't you get out of here, show up a little early," he suggested.
"Yeah?" Steve had to admit she'd been on his mind all day. "There is something I need to do before I head to her place."
"Go, smooth things over," Danny encouraged. "We don't have jurisdiction in San Francisco anyhow, so Chase can wait. And I have a date with Monday night football."
"Alright, Danny," Steve slapped his partner's shoulder appreciatively. "Let me know if anything comes up."
000
Steve held the item in front of him like a shield, hoping she wouldn't strike if she saw it first.
That was assuming she actually opened the door for him. He'd knocked nearly two minutes ago and hadn't received an answer. And he knew she had to be home because her tiny blue corvette was hanging half way out of the garage, which was wide open again. Steve knocked a second time, a little louder. He waited, rocking back and forth on his heels. When she opened the door Steve breathed out, not realizing he'd been holding his breath.
"I'm not sorry I asked that patrol to watch your house last night," he spoke first.
"Was that an apology?" Catherine eyed him dubiously.
"I am sorry I didn't tell you about it," Steve added.
Catherine relaxed a little. "Is that for me?" she asked, focused on the single white plumeria flower he was holding.
He nodded and reached out to tuck the flower behind her left ear.
She noticed his action seemed deliberate and it warmed her to realize. Catherine knew about the Polynesian tradition of a woman's placement of the flower. Over the right ear if she was seeking out a relationship and over the left if she was taken. There was little doubt in her mind that Steve knew the custom as well. "I'm sorry I went to your office this morning and blew up at you like that. Truth is I was more upset with myself than anything."
"Why's that?" he was curious.
"Stupid horror movies, I guess," she mumbled, stepping inside to allow him entrance. "I went chasing after a noise in my backyard that could've turned out to be something a lot worse than a snooping police office," Catherine berated herself.
"Hey, come here," Steve finally closed the door behind him before he enveloped her in a hug. One arm went around her shoulder, the other her back. He held her for a long time before he realized Danny had been right. "Catherine," he pulled out of their embrace a little, forehead resting against hers, hands on either side of her face. "You know I'd never want you to be something you're not, right? You don't have to apologize for being upset, or scared. If you were scared," he didn't want to presume.
"Maybe a little," she shrugged.
His tough guy exterior faltered as he listened to the soft note of vulnerability in her voice. "Seeing you hurt makes me…"
"Shh," Catherine hushed him with her lips, a brief moment of salvation for them both. It broke her heart to hear him sound the least bit helpless. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, mindful not to crush the flower he'd given her. Catherine had never thought of herself as the sort needing rescue, but she couldn't help feel completely safe in his presence. "Have you found out anything more about Dugan's death?" she offered a step away from the serious topic of their feelings.
"Not really," he kept her close. "A bunch of random stuff that I'm not even sure links up," Steve let his hands drop to her waist as he leaned in and initiated another kiss. When he glanced down, Steve finally noticed that she was wearing some sort of navy blue item with silver stars on it. The thing even had a ruffle along the bottom. "Do you have an apron on?"
Catherine pulled away from him abruptly. "Crap, my muffins!" she exclaimed, darting off toward the kitchen.
Chuckling softly at her reaction, Steve followed her to the kitchen. He found her standing in front of the oven with both hands on her hips, similar to how she'd looked that morning in his office, except with flour in her hair and a smile on her face. The timer on the oven was still counting down, three and a half minutes to go. Steve used the time to wrap his arms around her from behind. "I have something important I want to talk about," he spoke softly in her ear, his chin rested against her shoulder.
"Oh, yeah?" she turned to look at him with a spark of desire in her eyes.
"Not that kind of something," Steve grudgingly replied.
Before he could say anything else the oven's timer blared, a rather shrill beep-beep-beep that cut through the otherwise peaceful kitchen.
Steve watched Catherine kill the buzzer, open the oven and bend over to check on the golden-topped muffins. "Although…" he suddenly recalled what Danny had mentioned about make-up sex. "I seem to be having flashbacks to that bakery fantasy you once mentioned," he said aloud. Steve attempted to shake those thoughts from his head, trying not to go there when he'd planned to talk to her about something serious.
Catherine faced him, muffin pan in one hand. "I wonder if we could combine that with your foxhole fantasy," she winked.
"Muffins in a foxhole?" Steve was significantly distracted again, mulling over the possibilities those images offered up. "That could be fun," he grinned. Watching her pluck muffins out of the hot pan and transfer them to a wire rack was sexier than he cared to admit. He'd watched her cook before. She didn't do it often, and was usually more likely to whip up a batch of her grandmother's ragu than bake muffins. Either way, Steve had to admit that the Neanderthal side of him enjoyed watching her in the kitchen.
"Those muffin MREs aren't bad," Catherine fueled his fantasy, "Especially the maple ones."
He was struck again by how much his life had been brightened by her presence the last few years. Her ability to transition from a serious discussion into a teasing manner in such a subtle way was just one of the many things he found endearing about her. Steve thought again about the ring he'd been searching for the day before, and the fancy restaurant he'd planned to take her to. Presently, the ring and the setting didn't seem to matter as much as the question.
With surprisingly little trepidation, Steve went down on one knee while she still had her back turned toward him.
"I can't believe I woke up at four this morning and mixed up this huge batch of muffin batter," Catherine spoke as she closed the oven door and picked up the pan again. "I guess I inherited my mother's habit of cooking when stressed," she declared. "I suppose that's better than eating when stressed. Anyhow, you'll have to take some of these to work tomorrow, give them to Chin and Danny. I don't know what I was thinking. I have nearly five dozen muffins here."
Catherine turned around, planning to walk the pan over to the sink, but she didn't see him on the floor in time to stop herself from tripping over his knee.
Steve watched the muffin pan slip from her grasp. It dropped onto the white tile floor with a loud clang. But he wasn't worried about the pan as his hands shot out, hoping to catch Catherine before she fell. He caught her waist, but not swiftly enough to stop her head from colliding with the edge of a cabinet door. "Cath," he winced, easing the rest of her fall with his weight balancing her. Steve knelt in front of her on the floor as she leaned her back against the cabinet.
"What just happened?" she held her forehead, feeling slightly dazed.
With his pride rather wounded by the fact that his second attempted proposal had just caused her bodily harm, he covered, "I saw a measuring cup or something on the floor. Went to pick it up and…" Steve stopped, realizing she was fairly good at spotting a lie. He figured the less he said about it the better. "Jeez, you're bleeding," he watched droplets of blood slip past the fingers she had pressed against her forehead. "You have a med kit?" Steve realized he didn't know her house as well as she knew her way around his place.
"In the bathroom," she mumbled, "Middle shelf of the linen cabinet."
Catherine remained on the floor as he left the kitchen. Her head was rather sore and she was pretty certain she'd just split it open again very close to where El Condor's thugs had wacked her a week ago. She closed her eyes for a second, thinking she'd heard a strange sound - something like a high-pitched whimper. For a moment she thought maybe her head was ringing from the hit, but it really hadn't been that bad of a fall. Catherine got to her feet, grabbed a dish towel off the counter and pressed it against her head.
She exited the kitchen, catching another hint of the same whining sound. It led her to the doorway between her house and the garage.
"What are you doing?" Steve's voice caused her to jump and spin around.
"Do not sneak up on me like that," she hissed. Her gaze rapidly returned to the garage door. "I think there's someone in there. Do you have your weapon?" Catherine asked.
"Calm down," he put a hand against her shoulder.
With a shrug she maneuvered away from his touch. "Don't tell me to calm down. Last night I nearly shot a cop because I had myself so worked up. Now…" she trailed off, hearing the noise again. Catherine pointed to the door. "Tell me you didn't just hear that," she whispered.
"I heard it," Steve nodded. He held the med kit in one hand and turned the door's knob with his other.
"Steve, wait, you should be armed," Catherine murmured. He clearly didn't seem to care as he opened the door, exposing them to whoever was in her garage about to attack. A second after the door opened Catherine's gaze widened considerably as she looked down and spotted something non-human in her garage. "What… why is there a…" she starred at the animal, a rather tranquil yellow Labrador with a blue collar that was nudging its damp nose against Catherine's palm. "There's a dog tied up in my garage."
"Surprise," Steve uttered, a bit disappointed that his gift presentation had gone about as well as his proposal.
"This is your doing?" she couldn't stop the smile that formed as the adorable canine licked her hand. "You got me a dog?"
He nodded, "Yep." Steve carefully unlashed the dog before turning over the lead to Catherine. The three of them moved inside the house. Catherine sat down on the sofa and the dog followed her, sitting obediently at her feet. "I thought about getting you a puppy," Steve said as he settled in beside them with the med kit. "But with our work schedules I figured that might not be the best idea," he watched Catherine smile, already smitten with the animal.
"I dropped off Dugan's cat at the shelter today and this girl was there," Steve revealed, eyeing the dog. "All the other dogs were barking, drawing attention to them. This one just sat there in her pen, patiently watching me," he explained. "According to the shelter she's about two years old. They rescued her a few months ago from a home that had nearly two dozen dogs locked up in tiny basement kennels."
"Poor thing," Catherine sighed as she patted the dog's head. The Lab instantly nuzzled her snout against Catherine's lap and seemed to relish the human contact.
It was pretty easy to see the two of them were already becoming well acquainted. "She didn't have any papers, no identity when they took her in," Steve further explained. "They were planning to put her down next week if no one came to adopt her. So if you agree to keep her, you get to name her," he concluded.
"Who knew you were such a sucker for a hopeless cause?" she looked to Steve, admiration etched across her smile. "I thought you didn't like dogs?"
"Not true," his head shook. "I've just never had one before. Do you think you'll keep her? I know this was kind of spare of the moment for me, which is rare," Steve rested one hand atop the dog's soft yellow coat. "I got her that blue collar tonight before I picked her up. It's your favorite color so I figured…"
Catherine stopped him by placing a feather-light kiss against his cheek. "You didn't think I'd say no, did you?" her question wasn't one she expected an answer to. "She seems like a real sweetheart. I'm going to call her Trooper," Catherine announced. "And you're not as sly as you think you are, sailor," she eyed Steve again. "I know why you did this. She's meant to be added protection, right?"
"That idea did cross my mind when I first saw her," he admitted before opening the med kit. "Trooper, huh?" Steve smiled as he pulled out antiseptic and bandages. "Last night you mentioned the Diamond Dolls, now this. I think you enjoyed your roller derby days, didn't you?"
"Days, as in two," she noted. "And, yes, I did have a little bit of fun on the team. I still prefer ice skating, though." Catherine kept one hand against the dog as Steve cleaned her wound with an antiseptic wipe. "I was actually thinking more along the lines of her being a trooper after all she's been through, being caged. And yet she's so behaved."
"Dogs are a good judge of character," Steve said. "They know when someone's going to treat them right. Although I have to wonder what kind of guard dog she'll be for you."
"I think she'll know when to protect, and when to relax," Catherine replied.
He nodded, hoping she was right. Steve continued to clean her wound, glad that it hadn't been worse. His thoughts slipped to a dark place for a moment. All of his worry the last week and a half seemed to coincide with Dugan's case and her mother's plight. "Cath, can I ask you something kind of personal?"
"Of course," she nodded, noticing the worry clouding his stormy blue eyes.
"Do you ever check yourself for…" Steve shook his head. He was about to let the question slide, but he finally manned up and spit out the words. "Do you check for lumps, you know… like possible breast cancer and all that?"
Catherine didn't know what she'd been expecting when he mentioned a personal question, but it certainly hadn't been that. The concern she could see flash in his eyes caused her heart to ache a little. "Yeah, I do," she quickly assured him. "My doctor checks as well. Never had anything out of the ordinary," she relayed in a serious tone. "And she says I don't need to worry about a yearly mammogram for another few years."
"Good, that's good," he breathed out nervously. "I was just thinking about Dugan's mom and what she went through. And… well, it would be a shame if anything were to happen to your very lovely… you know," Steve waved a hand at her chest. "Not that I wouldn't still find you sexy if you didn't have any…" he realized he had entered some very uncomfortable territory and wasn't sure how to back out.
"I appreciate the sentiment," Catherine let him off the hook, though she was immensely touched by his concern. She watched him closely for a while as he finished tenderly bandaging her forehead. She noticed that he'd seemed rather distracted from the moment he'd arrived. Catherine wasn't sure if it still had to do with her safety or not. "You mentioned earlier about having something to talk about," she remembered. "Was this it?"
"No. I…" Steve realized his plan had fallen through. There was no way he could propose to her now, certainly not after wounding her and asking about breast exams.
She yawned before he could say anything more. "Sorry," Catherine felt bad. "I didn't sleep very well last night and it's your fault," she declared.
"Cath, I told you I was sorry about not mentioning the patrol," he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, guessing her flower had ended up on the kitchen floor.
"It's not that," she assured. "I couldn't sleep because…" Catherine felt her throat tighten. "All my life I've been able to fall asleep anywhere, Steve. We moved so much when I was a kid that I could just lay down in bed, wherever, any country, and be dead to the world for eight hours. I could sleep soundly on air planes or a moving ship in the middle of the ocean. But now I can't seem to sleep well unless you're beside me," she confessed.
He closed his eyes for a second and breathed out slowly. "I've been having that same issue," Steve revealed, realizing her confession was just the opening he needed. "Move in with me?" he proposed the idea to her. "My place… you, me and Trooper?"
A smile lit her eyes. "Is this because you have a better security system?" Catherine teased.
"Yes," he nodded. "Exactly. Because of my security system," Steve shifted forward and kissed her, hoping she was leaning toward a yes response.
"One condition," she said.
Steve sat back, slightly confused by her comment. "What do you mean?"
"I'll move in with you on one condition," Catherine declared.
"Name it," he eagerly agreed. "Anything…" Steve took a moment to think and suddenly recanted, "Wait a sec, what sort of condition?"
Catherine grinned mischievously. "I'll tell you later." She stood and took his hand in hers, tugging him to his feet. "First I plan to make us dinner and we're going to eat it sitting at a table with utensils and napkins, like civilized people," she laid down the law.
"And then we can pack your stuff?" he asked, trailing after her much the same as her new dog.
"Maybe," she replied.
000
"Get down," Steve ordered. "Dowwwn," he enunciated the word when the dog didn't budge, her big black eyes just staring at him.
"Trooper, get down from there," Catherine said as she entered Steve's office dressed in full work attire. Upon her command the dog immediately jumped off the sofa. Morning sunlight streamed in through the window behind the couch, golden light illuminating the space. "What a good girl," Catherine spoke softly to the animal as she sat down beside Steve. The dog patiently repositioned herself on the floor in front of them.
Steve hated to admit defeat, but the dog clearly obeyed Catherine better. "Not even twenty-four hours and she listens to you like you raised her from a puppy," he remarked. There was no denying he was impressed by the quick bond they'd formed. Steve watched as Catherine broke off a small bit of her blueberry muffin and fed it the dog. "You know I did leave some dog food in your garage. I don't think muffins are healthy for dogs," he said. "Not to mention you're going to spoil her from the start."
She leaned over and smiled covertly at the dog as she scratched behind Trooper's ear. Catherine had already learned it was a favorite spot for the animal. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's a bit of a grouch in the morning until his coffee kicks in."
"Great, I inadvertently gave you a best friend to talk behind my back with," Steve grumbled.
Catherine chuckled as she returned her attention to the man snuggled beside her. She broke off another muffin morsel and fed it to Steve. Then she patted his head. "Good boy," she taunted. His look of mock-contempt caused her to laugh louder. Catherine kissed him, a soft, adoring caress to appease him. "Sorry," she whispered against his lips.
He took the muffin from her and set it aside. His arms slinked around her as their bodies moved to match the horizontal of the sofa. Steve laid her out underneath him, his cargo pants and t-shirt attire hovering above her Navy camies. "Now do you think I'm grouchy?" he whispered, his lips hovering teasingly against hers.
"You must have slept well last night," she murmured, gently trying to command his body toward hers. It didn't take much urging on her part before he gave in, but after only a few minutes Catherine reluctantly twisted away from his caresses. "We shouldn't," her breathing was labored. "I have to go to work soon and…"
"I can be fast," Steve offered. "And there's a locker room in the basement. We can shower after…"
"Yes, but…" she bit her bottom lip, resolve slipping a bit further as she thought about how she didn't want him to go fast. "We could traumatize the dog," Catherine lamely tried to protest. But Steve's lopsided smile and the touch of his deft fingers against her belly destroyed the last bit of firmness she'd been hanging on to. She gave herself over to him, mind and body, ridiculously impressed by the way he left most of her clothing in place. "The camies really do turn you on," she giggled, amused as their bodies joined.
She both hated and loved the way he kept his promise of being fast. Catherine never failed to be awed by his power to urge her body toward prolonged satisfaction or quick release.
They managed to bypass the early morning crowd in the lobby by taking the elevator to the basement. The locker room was small, six bright red metal lockers and three cream-colored tile showers that had been installed specifically for Five-0 use upon the inception of the task force. "I like this," Steve whispered as he stripped down and joined her in the shower. "Kind of feels like I'm sneaking you into my boot camp barracks or something," he said, stalking toward her.
"Is that all you think about, military sexual shenanigans and foxhole fantasies?" Catherine held an arm out, pressing her palm against his chest to keep him at bay. "We're here to get clean. We can't do this," she waved a hand at his lower anatomy. "Not again."
He pouted. "So I'm meant to just watch you shower, naked… and not touch you?"
"The art of restraint," she quipped. "Try something new. You might like it."
"Doubt it," he grumbled, still reaching for her.
"I told you I need to get to work," Catherine insisted.
His arms dropped as a new thought entered his head. "So, when your work hours are not as strict, can I bring you back down here for a morning shower?"
"You're incorrigible," she sighed.
"I know what that word means," he replied, stepping underneath the hot spray of water.
They returned to Five-0 HQ fifteen minutes later, his short hair already dry, hers damp but pulled back again in regulation form. Trooper trotted over to them, her tail wagging as she looked up at Catherine. "I like this morning better than yesterday," Steve said as his arms wrapped around her waist again, not ready to let her go just yet.
"Agreed," she gave in to another sensual kiss.
When the front office doors opened, the two of them sprang apart, straightening their clothing and standing at military attention. Catherine and Steve turned away from one another and grabbed muffins from the tray on the tech table. They chewed quietly, trying not to look like teenagers who'd just been caught by their parents. "I made muffins," Catherine announced to Chin and Danny as they entered.
"Hey, Catherine," Danny tried again to greet the woman cheerily.
"Sorry about yesterday," she apologized, feeling very rude for the way she'd acted.
"No worries," Danny smiled to see she and Steve looked a fair sight more relaxed in each other's presence.
"Is there something wrong we should know about?" Chin inquired, genuinely concerned when he spotted the small bandage on Catherine's head. The mysterious photos delivered to Steve had them all on edge in regard to Catherine's safety.
"This?" Catherine ran a finger across her forehead where Steve had applied a clean, dry bandage after their shower. "Accident. I ran in to a kitchen cabinet."
"A cabinet?" Danny questioned the validity of that statement as he eyed the dog in their office.
"You see," Steve shook his head at the woman next to him. "I told you to tell them it was a training exercise or a surfing accident. Saying you ran into a kitchen cabinet makes me look like an abusive boyfriend," he bemoaned.
She grinned happily to hear him use the term boyfriend. "You guys probably need to get to work," her mood turned a bit somber knowing they were still trying to figure out what had happened to Dugan. "And I should be going," she bent down and clipped a leash to Trooper's blue collar. "I have work, and I should drop Trooper off at home first," Catherine leaned in and kissed Steve, a quick peck. "I'll see you tonight?" she watched him nod. "And we'll take care of my one condition, yes?"
"Yes, yes we will," Steve nodded, waving her off. When she was out the door and out of sight, Steve fiddled with the computer table while softly humming to himself.
"Something you want to share with the group, Steven?" Danny prodded, noticing the odd behavior of his friend.
Steve looked up at the two men he'd come to depend on, and who he considered family. "Seriously guys the thing on her forehead really was an accident," he insisted. "I kind of startled her last night and she fell and hit her head. It was…" he trailed off. "Never mind, it's not important."
"Not important?" Danny tapped his foot against the floor. "So are you saying that Sunday morning when we spent over two hours looking at rings, that wasn't important? What was she startled about?" he asked, "The marriage proposal, right? You went for it?"
Chin was instantly curious about that revelation. "You proposed to Catherine?" a smile quickly replaced the look of shock on his face.
"I…" Steve pursed his lips for a second. "I did, yes," he nodded slowly and deliberately. "I proposed that she and I should," it was no use lying to them, "That we should live together. And then I gave her a dog. Actually, it was the other way around, but…"
Danny and Chin stared at their friend for a long time after that.
"Are you serious?" Danny finally asked. "I thought maybe she was watching that dog for a friend. You don't even like dogs."
"That's not true," Steve denied. "Why does everyone assume that? I've just never spent much time around them. My dad was allergic."
"Don't the two of you already live together?" Chin was still stuck on the other aspect of McGarrett's revelation.
"No, we do not live together," Steve replied, feeling like he was in front of a judge and jury. "Catherine tends to stay with me a lot, but she still has a place of her own that she pays rent on. So I suggested she could stop paying rent and move in with me."
"You proposed that she could save money by living with you?" Danny shook his head and rubbed his chin.
"It's the truth," Steve shrugged.
"Yeah, no… of course it's true," Danny nodded, one arm flung outward. "No, I get it. I totally get it. I just never realized what a hopeless romantic you are," the man tried hard not to laugh. "Exactly how many times were you dropped as a child?"
"Just once when I was three and my dad threw me on the bed. I hit the wall, though, so it's not like he actually dropped me. And we were just playing a game…" Steve looked up to see looks of surprise on his co-worker's faces. "You weren't actually being serious."
"Well, it explains a lot," Chin spoke more to Danny than Steve. Danny nodded.
"Are you telling me you never dropped Grace?" Steve challenged Danny's parenting.
With wide eyes, both Danny's hands shot into the air. "No, Steven, I never dropped my daughter. Never. Hard to believe, but no," a small, irritated sigh escaped the man's lips. "What's going on with you? I thought marriage was what you were going for. What happened to all of that?"
"I thought so, too, but…" Steve shrugged. "Maybe I'm just not ready for that step yet."
"You're not ready?" Danny scoffed. He and Chin both laughed softly for a while at that comment from their friend. They didn't mean to seem indelicate, though. Danny quickly regained a serious look. "What man is ever actually ready for marriage? No one, that's who," he answered his own question, trying to sympathize. "Marriage is a risk, my friend. It's a gamble, just like the rest of life. Sometimes you take the plunge and it lasts for two years or maybe ten, fifty or more if you're lucky."
Chin nodded his agreement. "If you wait to be ready you'll probably be single forever," he concluded. "I almost made that mistake."
Steve stood there a moment regarding two of his very best friends. One whose marriage had ended in divorce, the other who'd lost his wife to a horrible gunshot wound because of their job. And he couldn't help think of Kono who was traipsing across Asia with Adam, running for her life but also following her heart. Then there was Catherine, leaving her secure job with the Navy in order to be closer to him. All of them had made huge leaps of faith for love. Yet he was still having trouble getting his head and his heart to work in tandem.
"You want to tell me what really happened last night with the proposal and all that?" Danny did his best to be supportive rather than mocking.
With a resigned sigh Steve leaned against the computer table, arms folded. "I've never been so completely inept when dealing with a woman before," Steve proceeded to tell them about being down on his knee and then practically tackling Catherine into the cupboard. "I don't know what happened. It's like I became a complete idiot for several minutes."
"Smooth dog lost his smooth," Danny commented, trying to keep from laughing. "It's called nerves," he finally declared.
"Danny's right," Chin agreed.
"No guys, I've never been nervous about anything before," Steve insisted.
"Pretty sure that's not true," Chin wasn't buying it. "I don't think he meant to betray your trust, but your father once mentioned to me about how nervous you'd always get before every big football game in high school. And that's insignificant compared to asking a woman to marry you."
"Took me four tries before I finally got up the courage to ask Rachael," Danny revealed.
"I asked Malia twice before we made it official," Chin reminded them both.
"Why doesn't anyone tell you this stuff beforehand?" Steve groaned.
The master computer chimed, interrupting their conversation.
Chin tapped an icon on the touchscreen. "Charlie, you're the best," he said aloud, pulling up the files from Dugan's computer that had been password protected. He only scanned them briefly before turning to his team. "I think you both should read these," Chin immediately swiped the email messages on to an upright monitor for them.
"All of these are between Dugan and mchase at mlc dot com," Steve noticed right away. "Martin Chase, our missing partner." He studied the user pictures associated with their email accounts. Dugan looking professional. Chase's head shot revealed a Caucasian male. Mid-thirties. Dark, wavy hair. Hazel eyes. Thick black-rimmed glasses.
"Take a look at this," Chin redirected their attention to a different monitor. "This is security footage from Harrington's apartment building on Saturday night, which I didn't realize might be significant until now," Chin froze the video, focusing on a man in black slacks and navy button shirt. "He look familiar?"
"Martin Chase," Danny realized it was the same man.
"Billy never told us he had a visitor the night Dugan was killed," Steve recalled.
"To be fair, we never asked him that," Danny pointed out.
"Harrington got home at 9:07pm and Chase arrived five minutes later," Chin paused a second, "Then there's about forty-five minutes between Chase coming and going."
Steve nodded. "Enough time to have a beer, maybe chat about a murder plan," he surmised.
000
"You lied to us the other day," Steve accused as he stood before Harrington in the office space that was under construction.
Billy's eyes narrowed. "Pretty sure I didn't," he replied. He motioned with one hand, conveying to the construction crew to stop work. Equipment was silenced almost instantly and three men ducked out of the area to give them some privacy. "I'm assuming this is still about Dugan's murder?"
"Yes, and now it involves your friend, Martin Chase," Steve persisted. "We know Chase was at your apartment Saturday night for about forty-five minutes. He left roughly an hour before Dugan's time of death, plenty of time to get her to the north shore. And before you try to deny any of it, we have security camera footage of him coming and going to prove it."
Harrington nodded. "Okay, he visited me. So what?"
"Why was he there?" Steve asked the obvious question.
"He's a friend of mine," Billy reminded them. "We went to dinner then watched part of a movie, but Marty left early. He had to catch a flight to San Francisco the next morning."
Steve knew that to be a truthful statement. "Did you know Martin Chase lent Cathleen a lot of money to help pay for her mother's medical costs? Or that he paid her in cash? We found a ton of emails between the two of them about it," Steve conveyed, hoping for some reaction from Billy. When he got none, Steve continued. "Did you know she was threatening to expose some secret of his in exchange for not having to pay back the money?" Steve looked the man in the eye. "You did know about that."
"Yes, I knew," Billy breathed out heavily. "Marty's been my friend since we were kids and he tells me everything. He told me what was going on. I felt awful because I was the one who suggested her for a job at his firm. Dugan was a good person but I think her mother's death and the grief, I don't know… it can change people."
Danny had to agree about grief doing crazy things to people. But seeing the unconvinced look in Steve's eye, he took over the questioning for a moment. "How bad did you feel about getting Dugan the job, maybe bad enough to take care of the problem for Chase?"
"That's ridiculous," Billy's head shook adamantly. "I wouldn't kill anyone for Chase, especially not Dugan. The only time I was ever forced to take a life it was for my country," he defended himself. "Look, Marty was only really here Saturday night because I asked him to take something to my dad since he was going to be in San Francisco."
"What was it?" Steve demanded.
With another sigh, Billy replied to the interrogation. "My dad likes to smoke. I know it's a horrible addiction, but sometimes you just can't change an old man's habits. I bought some cigars at a shop here on the island that was not exactly legit. I knew they were illegal, but it's hardly the worst crime," Harrington shrugged. "Marty is a good guy. He never would've given Cathleen the money in the first place if he hadn't wanted to help her out."
Steve considered that declaration for a moment, but there was more going on and he wanted to know what. "Do you know the secret Dugan was threatening to expose? The emails we found conveniently never mentioned that."
Billy shook his head again. "No, he never told me."
"I'm going to check your story about the cigars," Steve warned the man. "And I'm going to track down Chase and have a nice long chat with him. If either doesn't check out I'll be back to have this talk with you all over again. I will get to the truth, Billy. You can trust that."
"Fare enough," Harrington agreed.
On their way out, Steve and Danny let the construction crew know it was okay to return. Danny eyed his partner several times as they headed toward the elevator, trying to read the man's mood. "Do you believe what he said about not knowing Chase's secret?" Danny finally asked.
"No. He knows," Steve was sure.
To be continued…