Hi everyone (if there's anyone even left reading this fic)! Sorry I have been so lazy about updating this! I've just been so busy, and I've got another fanfiction that I've been working on... Anyway, not to take up any more of your time, here's my next chapter!
Disclaimer: I don't own the Castle series, the Nikki Heat franchise, the Storm franchise, or any of the characters. (That right still belongs to the brilliant Andrew Marlowe) I also don't own the Ford car company
As the elevator doors opened, Nikki Heat rolled her eyes to see none other than Detectives Raley and Ochoa, a.k.a. Roach, perched on her desk with unprofessional smiles and "knowing" looks. She stepped out, turned around, and pretended to step back in, but she backed out and walked to her desk.
"Save me now," she mouthed to Rook, who was on the phone with his daughter right by the door. He laughed heartily and she smiled, then made her way to her desk.
As she put her coat around her chair, she tried her best to avoid the borderline creepy stares of her co-workers. She sat down and began to fill out her paperwork, apparently oblivious to the two men sitting on her desk. After about five minutes of the silent treatment, Raley finally broke down.
"Come on, you're not even going to tell us how it went?" Ochoa punched Raley in the shoulder softly for talking, but then he nodded in agreement.
"No, I hadn't planned on it," Heat said sarcastically. Roach pouted.
"Aw, come on chica! You can tell us!" Ochoa spoke with a false accent and Heat laughed.
"Okay, I'll make you a deal. If you can do all of this paperwork by 6pm tonight, I'll tell you." Roach jumped excitedly and grabbed the paperwork, Ochoa shooting her a wink as they ran to their desks. She laughed softly. Now I can go to my dinner date with Storm, she thought to herself.
"Heat! Where's Rook?" Captain Montrose walked out of his office with a frown. Heat frowned and looked around. She just noticed that her shadow was missing.
"I thought my day was feeling peaceful. I don't know, Captain. Maybe he took the day off." Captain Montrose frowned at Heat. They both knew that he was avoiding the Precinct in case of a Storm sighting.
"I'll call him. Why do you ask?" Captain Montrose looked grave.
"There's been a murder."
"This is Jameson Rook, sorry I couldn't take your call, leave a message at the tone." Heat sighed. Voicemail. Again. She sighed, holding two coffees, she walked towards the crime scene.
"Hey Lauren!"
"Hey, girlfriend! Is that for me?" Lauren, the mortician, and Nikki Heat's closest friend, took the second coffee from her arm before Heat could object. Heat smiled. "So, how was your date?"
Nikki Heat smiled. "Come on, Lauren, we'll talk tomorrow. We've got a body. Have you identified the victim yet?"
Lauren sighed. "No, not yet. I wasn't able to pull a print off of the body. Looks like they were burned off with a type of acid when the victim was at a young age. Most likely some kind of secret agent."
"Shame. Rook would've loved this." Heat sounded wistful, and Lauren noticed.
"Well he isn't here. Let's get back on track." Heat nodded. "Victim is a male, mid 20s, Caucasian, most likely a sedentary worker, judging by the clothes. He was found sitting in the seat of this car." Heat sighed.
"Cause of death?"
"It isn't what you think. Judging by the lack of blood, I'd say the knife was placed in his back post-mortem. Most likely some kind of symbol, like he was "stabbed in the back." I'd need to get him to the lab for further analysis, but I'd say he was poisoned, although I've found no defensive wounds on him, and no traces of chloroform on his mouth."
"Seems like we're dealing with a psycho killer." Lauren nodded at Heat's point.
"Anyway, I should get him back to the lab. Wanna meet up later and talk more details?" At that, Lauren wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestive way. Heat smiled.
"Sorry. Can't. I have a dinner date at 7. Maybe tomorrow morning for coffee?"
"Ooh, a dinner date! And it's the third one! Well, see you tomorrow Detective Heat." Lauren winked as Detective Heat walked back to her car with a smile on her face.
It was 5:30 when Detective Heat finally wrapped up her paperwork at the office. She checked her watch, sure that she'd have enough time to get ready. She slipped out of the office unnoticed, well unnoticed by Captain Montrose, and she got in her Ford Fusion and drove home.
When she opened the door, she stopped and breathed in the smell. She had always loved the smell of lavender. It was timeless and classy, and very ladylike. She shut her door behind her, locking it. She scanned the premises of her house, making sure nothing looked out of place, and then she continued back to her bedroom. It wasn't the largest house in the world, but it suited her and she liked it.
She opened the doors to her closet and pulled out a dress that she thought would be suitable. It was red with an A-line cut, sleeves that only covered her shoulders, and fit her tightly, all the way down to her knees, and a little past. Basically, it was your average 1940's pin up doll dress. She put it on, buckling a thick black belt around her ribs, and then she went over to the mirror, brushing out her long curly hair and putting on a thick cat-eyed coat of eyeliner and red lipstick. She brushed her teeth twice, and grabbed her small black purse, just large enough to conceal handcuffs, her shield, and her gun.
"I'm ready." She repeated to herself. Heat got in her car and drove towards the arranged meeting place.
When Heat got out of the car, she gasped in amazement. Set up for her, on the gazebo of a private beachfront location, was the nicest dinner arrangement she had ever seen. It looked fit for a queen. A violinist stood at the far end of the gazebo, playing classical 1940's music. And best of all was Derrick Storm. He stood on the lowest step, wearing a classic black 1940's suit with a red rose in his lapel, almost like he planned his outfit with hers. How does he do that, Heat thought to herself.
"Wow, Detective Heat. You look… beautiful." Detective Heat smiled. No one ever called her beautiful. Sure she'd had 'Hey sexy!' thrown at her on the streets before, but no one had ever genuinely called her beautiful.
"Thank you, Mr. Storm. You look very handsome yourself." He smiled at her comment, and he offered her his arm, walking her to her seat. He pulled it out for her like a gentleman, allowing her to be completely seated before he even ventured near his side of the table.
"So, Mr. Storm, if you don't mind my rudeness, I have a work question for you."
"I don't mind at all Detective Heat. What's your question?"
Heat smiled. "In your days as a private investigator, did you ever need to find someone who's fingertips had been burned off?" Derrick Storm frowned.
"Is there any way I could see a photo of this person?" Heat nodded. She pulled out her phone, and opened the photo. Derrick Storm stiffened noticeably when he saw the man's face.
"Is everything all right, Mr. Storm?" He nodded, a forced smile coming on to his face.
"Just fine, Detective Heat. I was simply reminded that I needed to get oil changed in my car. I apologise for the modern time interruption. Would you excuse me one moment?" Heat nodded. Storm got up and dialed a number into his phone.
"This is Agent Storm. Agent Deckerson is dead. His body is in custody with the NYPD." All Heat could hear on the other end of the call was mumbling, but she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Agent Storm?
Storm hung up the phone. "I really am sorry for that. Shall we get back to dinner?"