A Dark Path – Chapter 14
The child was Madeline Martin, age six, the youngest of Abigail and Silas Martins' three children. The older children were at school when the search warrant came through. Normally, Dani would have respected their grief, but that neither parent seemed particularly affected and no one reported the six-year-old girl missing - just plain pissed her off.
Her radar was off the grid angry. Little red dots beeped before her eyes. Crews was sullen and withdrawn. It was a recipe for disaster and portended evil things, things she didn't want to see, didn't want to know – except that she did.
So they served the warrant, but the Crime Scene Techs were on a fresh homicide and two hours away. Tidwell told them to wait, but Dani didn't want to wait. She wanted to know. That was her strength and her weakness – wanting to know. Crews' weakness was her and so they searched - just the two of them and a couple uni's that Crews could get to help out - Stark and Juarez.
They were four hours into tossing the house. She was beginning to wonder if Crime Scenes was ever going to make an appearance. It was 2PM and they were ankle deep in clutter and trash searching the house of a couple that appeared to be hoarders. was making both of them anxious and Charlie was beginning to wonder if years of living in an institutionalized setting had made him a bit OCD. When he pulled at the collar of his shirt for the eleventh time in thirty minutes, Reese called him on it.
"What's your damage Heather?" she asked in a pinched tone.
He didn't understand her pop culture reference, but there was no mistaking her question. "I'm…it's a little….it's stuffy in here right?" he deflected.
"It's dirty, grimy, cluttered, smelly and yes…there's a lot stuffed in here," she bit back on her annoyance. It wasn't him, it was the clutter and tight quarters that were making her uncomfortable too. She was sweating and the rubber gloves she wore were sticking to her in unappealing ways.
"Can we?" he motioned toward the exterior door where open air and sunshine awaited them. At this point even Reese welcomed it. She nodded her acquiescence and followed him as he straightened and headed towards it his long legs carrying him easily over the piled artifacts that littered the room.
As she clambered over the clutter, she stumbled and wasn't surprised to find his steady hand on her. The warmth of his palm bled through her shirt and then just as quickly he released her and stepped away. He was still stinging from her refusal to talk about what he'd shared with her. He was distant and uncharacteristically cold, but she knew that his warmth was only a shy smile away. A smile she refused him because she didn't want to raise his hopes. Her hard-won independence and confidence hovered on the edge of a very sharp cliff and yet, she knew instinctively that he was the safety rope that held her in place.
She was sure of him in a way she thought was lost to her. Part of her strength came from a place deep inside that he had awakened. She hadn't known it before they met and she wondered how much of it relied upon him and just how much came from within. Like most confident professional women there were depths of self-esteem issues that stayed hidden from her work place and work mates. But he was different. So very different - in weird ways and in ways that made her feel safe and whole again.
She didn't trust anyone, she didn't believe in people – except that she did - in the most unlikely of souls - in him. He was solid, sure and steady. She knew his feelings ran deep and were true. She hoped that some days hers would match his, but she tread cautiously. Crews was also patient and not many people had shown Dani Reese patience. She could count them on one hand; her therapist, her mother, a few teachers, but not men and never a lover.
All her talks with her mother lately centered around him; not her still missing father, not her recent boyfriend, but her partner. Her mother knew him now in broad strokes, not by his name, but by his actions – saving her from Roman, being wronged by many and his persistent belief that she alone was the salve that could heal his many wounds. Her mother was sure of his love for her, as was Dani. What she was unsure of was herself. What if she screwed this up and lost him? He'd become important, perhaps irreplaceable and fear held her back.
"What's wrong?" he probed sensing her quandary.
"We are," she answered directly. "I can't…" she began but was interrupted by Bobby Stark shouting, "Hey Charlie. You need to see this."
They both headed in the direction of Starks' voice and found him standing the middle of a hallway. He pointed at various bedrooms and pronounced, "Annabeth… Chauncey and their parents, Abigail and Silas."
Reese looked dumbfounded and gave her best "so what" expression to Stark, but Crews smiled and it was one of those smiles that heralded a hidden clue.
"What?" she asked him.
"Bobby is showing us what's not there. Aren't you Bobby?" Crews smiled and clapped Stark on the shoulder.
"Think there's hope for me Charlie?" Stark asked his old friend.
"I think there's hope for everyone," Crews replied but he was looking straight at Dani as he said the words, "but lately a lot of the things I thought have been wrong."
She looked away, knowing his intent was to talk to her. It was about the case and it wasn't about the case. It was about the two of them, except that it wasn't – not really, she just felt him there in her space, in her head, in her heart and it wasn't as scary as she'd expected. That alone frightened her.
"There's no room for Madeline," she let the dawn break over her as she returned to the case and got out of her own head. "She doesn't even merit her own room," she turned around in the hall, examining the bedrooms again. "She's invisible, as if all signs she was ever here were erased."
"No one is invisible," Crews voice was low and only for her ears, "even if no one sees them. They are still there. They still matter and you can still feel them. Close your eyes and the thousand things they are and do invade you. A flower grows if it is not loved, a weed grows…"
She glared at him, but he continued after a moment, intent on having his say, "not loved, not wanted? Maybe, but invisible? No."
He was right there. He was talking to her without talking about them. He was speaking in ways that were real and meaningful, textured and layered and designed specifically to drive little wedges of light into her determined circle of darkness.
"Invisibility should have protected her," she noted caustically.
"Except that it didn't," he interjected. "You can't protect yourself with nothing."
"Thought there couldn't be nothing?" she reminded him.
His smile was small and not true, but he ceded the ground before him and let her have it. Behind her little victory, the earth was scorched and barren as if nothing of him remained. She was wining the battles and losing the longer war.