Chapter 5: Chapter 5
HEARTLESS
Chapter 5 - Valentine's Day
"I'm on my way, Sister... Try to remain calm. I need you to settle down and stay with Ms. Kent - I'm only a minute away from the church."
Horatio spoke urgently into the phone, quickening his pace as he headed in the direction of Saint Ignatius. The alarm in Sister Mary-Martha's voice disturbed him. She sounded distraught. "I'm almost there - don't touch anything, okay?"
He terminated the call at the front of the church and began running up the steep cement stairs that led to a pair of tall, imposing wooden doors.
As if by magic, Frank Tripp appeared at his side. "Horatio, what's going on?"
Horatio glanced at his colleague, pausing for a moment in front of the heavily scarred entryway. "As ever, Frank, your timing is impeccable. Catherine Kent, the woman who runs the soup kitchen in this church, received a package today. Whatever was inside has upset her. Why don't you come along... let's see what has Ms. Kent so alarmed."
Horatio was about to open the church doors when one of them partially swung open before him. Immediately, he recognized the man at the door. It was the middle-aged Black man who had complained the previous evening about having to listen to Catherine's remarks before he and the others could eat. Watching him hobble forward to greet them, Horatio suddenly recalled his name. Charlie.
"You Lieutenant Caine?" he asked, looking Horatio up and down, a scowl on his face.
"I am," said Horatio, and then gestured toward Frank. "This is Detective Tripp."
Charlie coolly appraised the two men, and then opened the church door wide, motioning for them to come in. "Sister Mary-Martha said you were coming... said I should be on the look-out for a policeman with red hair. Said when I saw you, I was to let you in immediately. You gentlemen want to follow me?"
Horatio could see the man had a problem with his left leg; he was leaning heavily on a cane as he and the two police officers made their way to a set of stairs in the back of the church. Charlie moved painfully and slowly, and Horatio, already edgy, frowned with impatience.
"Guess Sister Mary-Martha told you Sister Cat is upset, Lieutenant... I ain't ever seen her this way," said Charlie, descending the steps one at a time, each step taken deliberately and with effort. "She got a package today... it scared her."
"You see what was in that package?" asked Frank.
"No, sir, I did not. I just heard screaming, and then I came running."
That statement caused Horatio and Frank to look meaningfully at each other: if there was anything to be sure of, it was that Charlie was incapable of running.
"Charlie... Charlie, what are you doing here?" asked the lieutenant as Charlie paused for breath on the bottom step.
"Working."
"Working? Doing what?"
"Last night, Sister Cat offered me a temporary job. Janitorial work. God knows, I needed a job."
Horatio nodded. As Charlie turned away and resumed his faltering walk, Frank whispered in Horatio's ear, "Can't see him being much help around here - that leg is pretty bad."
"Yeah," continued Charlie, unaware of Frank's comment, "I was sweeping up the kitchen when I just about dropped my broom. Heard these piercing screams. Scared the shit out of me, don't mind saying." He turned his head suddenly, looking Horatio in the eye. "Pardon - I sometimes forget we're in the house of God. I meant to say, I was pretty damned scared - uh, I mean frightened."
Horatio heard Frank chuckle softly, amused by Charlie's inability to refrain from profanity.
A few steps later, Charlie paused again, breathing heavily. Not only was he lame in one leg, but overweight. In spite of his urgency, he was unable to move very fast.
Horatio bit back his impatience. "Charlie, I'm going to ask you to stay here. Could you take a few minutes and answer some questions from Detective Tripp while I see Sister Mary-Martha and Ms. Kent? It would help us out." He looked past the fifty plus year old man, and his eyes met those of Frank. "Frank - can you take this, please?"
Understanding Horatio's urgency, Frank nodded. He then turned his attention to Charlie, and pulled a small notebook from a breast pocket inside his jacket. "Sir, let's start with your full name, okay?"
Hurrying down the hall, Horatio came to Catherine's office. The door was closed, and he rapped sharply for admittance. Sister Mary-Martha opened the door and waved him in. "Lieutenant Caine... please come in."
The woman's forehead was creased with concern. Without speaking, she nodded in the direction of Catherine, who sat in the corner of the room, her hands absently caressing a bundle of fluff in her lap. Looking closely, Horatio could see it was one of the kittens from the basket near her desk. The mother cat observed Catherine closely, content for the moment to allow her baby to give comfort, but watchful should something go wrong.
Catherine's head was lowered, and Horatio couldn't see her face - just the shiny cap of thick, silky brown hair that brushed the sides of her temples and curled gently against her upper neck. He noticed the protective rounding of her shoulders, as if she were guarding herself and the kitten against harm.
"Catherine?" He walked toward her and gazed at the quiet woman, unsure what to say to make her look up. "Catherine... please look at me."
She slowly shook her head. Horatio had to strain to catch her soft response. "I need a minute, Lieutenant... okay?"
He hesitated and then met the eyes of Sister Mary-Martha who was watching from the doorway. He walked over to the nun and pointed toward the door, indicating that she should step outside with him. He then closed the door softly behind them, leaving Catherine alone to regain her composure.
"Sister," he said, "can you tell me what's happened here? When you called, you said something about a package. Did you see anything?"
"I didn't see much, Lieutenant," said the unhappy woman. Her usual placid expression was marred with distress. "I was down the hall, in the back of the kitchen, seeing to the food deliveries. I had just about finished up when I heard Catherine screaming. I ran to her office - I don't mind telling you I was terrified! After what happened to that girl in the neighborhood, Catherine's screaming frightened me... it was so chilling."
"What did you find when you got to her office?"
A troubled look crossed her face. "She was staring into space, her hand on her heart, and breathing erratically. She looked terror-stricken, Lieutenant. That's not like Catherine! She's always so self-possessed and confident. I tried talking to her, tried to calm her, but it was as though I wasn't there - she didn't seem to recognize me at first."
"Did you see what it was that caused her such distress? Did you see the package?"
"No, sir... I didn't see anything. I asked her what was wrong, and she mumbled something about receiving a package, but then just shook her head. Her hands were shaking and she kept saying one word over and over."
Horatio cocked his head, his eyes sharp. "One word?"
The nun nodded. "A name, really: 'Joe'. She repeated it several times. And then she picked up one of those cats and sat down in the chair and said nothing more. It was rather spooky, if you want to know the truth."
Joe? Horatio let that roll around in his brain for a few moments. Changing tactics, he asked, "You mentioned food deliveries... can you tell me a little more about that?"
"Yes," she replied. "We get deliveries every couple of days from some of the local food markets. Excess produce, extra goods they don't need. Catherine has been pretty effective in getting commitments from the business community to stock the kitchen. It is through their largesse that we're able to operate. They provide donations of the staples and perishables that we need to stay open, and they write off the expense as charitable giving."
"I see. So, you were meeting with the delivery people?"
"I was."
"Are the delivery people generally the same? Do you know them?"
"Most of them..."
"Did you notice anyone unfamiliar to you? Anyone who stood out?"
She thought for a moment. "No... but to be honest, Lieutenant, I wasn't paying close attention. I was busy with things and more or less waved them in and out."
"Are you aware of anyone who might have delivered a package to Ms. Kent today?"
"No, sir, not specifically. I was only aware of food deliveries."
"Hm," he mused. "Okay. Tell you what: I'd like to get a list of the organizations that deliver to the church, Sister. Can you do that for me, please?"
She nodded. "Lieutenant, I've known Catherine for five years... I've never seen her like this. Could this have been my fault? Did I let someone inside the church who shouldn't have been here?"
Horatio smiled reassuringly at the kindly woman and let the question go; he could see she was on the verge of tears. "Ma'am, you know what would be helpful? Do you think you could round up a cup of tea for Ms. Kent? It might help - might calm her down. Think you can do that?"
The Sister looked deeply into his eyes. Was she imagining the hint of compassion she saw there? She didn't think so.
She suspected the lieutenant could be quite adept at wiping clear all emotion from those too-expressive eyes; at this moment, however, he willingly allowed her to read him. Her distress eased and a sudden, sweet smile caused the corners of her lips to curl upward.
"So, Lieutenant Caine... are you giving me something to do... a task to calm me down and keep me from worrying overmuch?"
"Not at all, ma'am. I just think a cup of tea might settle Catherine, allow her to tell her story in a calmer frame of mind. What do you think?"
The Sister leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "I'll tell you what I think, sir - I think you're really just a good Catholic boy at heart. Isn't that so, Lieutenant?"
An odd look passed over Horatio's face. "Well, let's just say I'm Catholic. Now, if you'd be kind enough to get that tea, I'd be grateful."
Quietly, Horatio opened the door and saw that Catherine had finally relinquished the kitten, whose mother had claimed him once again.
The young woman was now leaning forward, her head resting against her knees. Approaching her, Horatio lightly placed a hand on her upper back and with a quiet voice tried to gain her attention.
"Catherine..."
Unprepared, he had to take a surprised step backward when she suddenly reared up at his touch and whipped her face in his direction.
"Don't touch me... please don't touch me!"
"Hey, easy... easy," he soothed. "It's okay... it's just you and me..." He knelt down on one knee, trying to make eye contact with her. Her pretty face was flushed with distress and her eyes were turbulent and anxious. "It's okay," he repeated.
He noticed her eyes darted about the room in agitation, looking for something she seemed fearful of finding. Satisfied finally that whatever she'd been afraid of wasn't there, she went limp, and her eyes settled on him. He frowned at the fear he saw in them.
What had happened to the lively young woman he'd spoken with the evening before? This silent, quaking creature couldn't be the same woman who had humorously assured him that she 'had the moves' to take care of any would-be assailants.
A lock of her dark brown hair had fallen haphazardly over one eye, and Horatio experienced a sudden and keen yearning to touch it, to gently brush its softness aside.
Quashing the impulse, he asked, "Catherine, what's happened?"
"Horatio," she began, her voice choked. "He... he's found me."
"Who, sweetheart? Who has found you?"
Abruptly, she turned her head away from him. He watched her throat convulse and the shudder that coursed through her. It soon became obvious she would say nothing further. Frowning, he got to his feet and looked about the office.
"Catherine, the package - where is it?" he asked.
"The computer..." she began and stopped.
Horatio stepped past the cat and kittens curled up in the basket near her desk. His eyes immediately spied an open DVD case laying atop brown wrapping paper. The paper was standard packaging wrap, and its string cord was cut in half on either side.
He reached into his pocket for the pair of latex gloves always hidden there, and pulled them on while he looked at the DVD with curiosity. "Catherine, this DVD - is this what has you so upset?"
She looked at him. "Yes... I played it. It was horrible, Horatio!" Again, she shuddered.
He examined the case. Nothing special: it was a generic plastic case. Inserted into its plastic framing was a makeshift cover - a white piece of paper displaying a large hand-drawn heart. Crude in its representation, the heart appeared to have been colored by a child with a red crayon. Written cross the 'heart' in thick, black marker were two words: GREATEST HITS.
Horatio opened up the case; the DVD was missing. He looked at the computer. Pressing the ejection button next to the DVD slot, he watched as a DVD slid halfway out. He picked it up carefully - again, no surprises. It was standard issue, and could have been purchased anywhere. He gently inserted the disk back inside the slot and was about to play it when Catherine's strangled voice stopped him.
"Must you? I don't think I can bear to hear it again."
He thought about this for a minute. She was still visibly upset... Should he ask her to leave the room? He needed to find out what was on the DVD that so upset her. He needed her able and willing to talk with him about it. More importantly, he wanted to understand what had shaken her and changed her from the self-assured woman he'd first met.
She looked at him imploringly and repeated, "Must you?"
"Come here, Catherine," he said finally, and held out his hand. "Don't be afraid. I'm here and you're safe. Please," he urged, 'it's just a few steps, okay?"
Slowly she rose from the chair. Keeping her eyes on his, she walked toward him. When she was close, he reached for her hand and held it in both of his. "You're a brave woman, Catherine. I could tell that from our conversation last night. But something has frightened you badly... whatever it is, it's on that DVD, isn't it?"
She nodded, biting her lip, and looked at him with wide, troubled eyes. Again, Horatio found himself fascinated by the errant lock of hair that fell over one deep blue eye. Something about that soft wave falling into the thick black lashes touched him. It made her seem lonely and vulnerable - two conditions that never failed to move him.
It's more than that, pal, he suddenly thought. There's something else going on here, whether you want to admit it or not. Remembering the attraction to her he experienced the night before, a warning bell began to sound in his brain.
The hell with it! he thought, and abruptly gave in to his earlier impulse. He raised a hand and gently lifted the silky wave away from her eye, smoothing it back and then allowing his hand to rest lightly upon her cheek.
"Can you trust me?" he asked. "Please?" He looked at her intently, allowing the thumb of his hand to lightly brush the side of her face.
As if mesmerized, she again nodded.
He smiled. "Thank you." He let his fingers fall away from her face and turned back toward the computer, ready to start the DVD.
Before he could right-click the mouse and play the disk, he felt her hand suddenly rest atop his, restraining him.
Again she asked, "Are you sure? Must we?"
"I'm afraid we must, sweetheart." He looked at her and smiled reassuringly. "Okay, here we go."
"Cal, wait up," called Eric.
Calleigh turned toward him and smiled brightly. "Hey, you... any luck?"
"Not much," he said, falling in step with her. "How about you?"
"Well... as a matter of fact, I did find out the name of Theresa Lopez's best friend - she lives down the street. Up for a little visit?"
"Sure..." They walked in silence for a few seconds, awkward in one another's company.
"Cal, about this morning..." Eric began, and suddenly stopped and reached for her hand. "I'm sorry."
The smile faded from her face as her eyes searched his. Was he? He was such a man-child at times. The two of them had been a couple for several months now. Physically, things were great between them. It was the moments outside the bedroom that were problematic.
Calleigh was in her mid-thirties now; she was tired of broken men and broken promises. She wanted someone with whom she could have a solid relationship, perhaps marry someday - someone she could start a family with. When she looked at Eric, her heart melted. She wanted a future with him. She knew he wasn't the cavalier rake that his colleagues thought him. He was a good man. Tender. And serious. Especially in their quiet moments together.
But there was also a side of Eric that was still immature and needy. And vain. It was that side of him that prompted this morning's argument.
The night before, she and Eric had gone for drinks and food with Horatio and Frank. It had been a good way to spend an hour or two, winding down... and she had enjoyed a few Mojitos and was feeling bubbly and happy. Then her eyes drifted toward Eric who was returning to the table after a visit to the restroom.
As he made his way back to the table, a pretty girl, apparently out for a night on the town with her girlfriends, boldly called out to the handsome Cuban. Eric turned in her direction and offered her a smile - the smile that Calleigh always characterized as his 'killer smile' - a smooth grin that slowly exposed his white teeth and full red lips.
God, how she loved his mouth! The thought made her grow warm and distracted her from her musings for a moment.
"Calleigh?" prompted Eric, interrupting her thoughts.
She frowned at him, refusing to answer.
Again her thoughts returned to the small restaurant they'd been in. It wasn't so much that he had given the girls her smile; no, it was that he'd felt it necessary to pause at their table and exchange a few flirtatious words. Finally, he turned away from them, saw Calleigh watching him, and shrugged, a shit-grin plastered across his face. She'd been furious, but with Frank and Horatio at the table, decided to put the matter aside until she and Eric got back to his place.
But once back at Eric's apartment, too many Mojitos and that damned seductive mouth made short work of her resolutions. His heated murmurings and warm hands weakened her and in the ensuing passion, her anger dissolved.
Dissolved? No... not quite. It had simply crept away, temporarily shielding itself somewhere deep inside her, waiting for the right moment to spring.
And spring it did - over breakfast. Harsh words had been exchanged, followed by coolness and an unwillingness to look at one another. But that had been hours ago... and Calleigh was tired of being mad. It wasn't in her nature to stay angry. Fortunately, it wasn't in his either.
"Look, Cal... I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the stupid girl and her silly friends. It was just a... just a moment, you know? Nothing important. Christ, I can't even recall her face."
"I know," she said softly. "But why do you do it? Do you know how embarrassing it is to me when you flirt with these women?"
"It was just a moment, Calleigh... you know how I feel about you..."
He was worried; she could see that. Yes, she did know how he felt about her. He was crazy about her. He proved it often enough with his lips, his hands, those hips that thrust against hers with a rhythm so sure that she felt they'd been destined for each other. But was that enough?
She pushed the troubled thought aside. Taking a quick look around to make sure they weren't being observed, she stood up on her toes and leaned in toward him, giving him a fleeting kiss. "I know... I know, and I'm sorry about the argument... but Eric, this sort of...of behavior hurts me. It feels demeaning."
He nodded, his expression serious. "I'll do better. Okay? Are we okay?"
"We're okay," she whispered, giving him one last kiss and then pulling away. "We're okay." She only hoped that were true.
They resumed walking. A few minutes later, Calleigh stopped him.
"Wait," she said, business-like again, "here we are: 2324 Lister Road. This is where Vicki Savaliski lives. Let's see what Ms. Savaliski has to say."
"Nothing much, I'll bet," replied Eric as they approached the seedy-looking row house. He knocked smartly on the door several times, and then they waited. The windows were open and they could hear the sounds of a TV soap opera escaping from the inside.
Not receiving a response to his first attempt, Eric knocked again, this time calling into a window. "Vicki Savaliski? Please open up. Miami-Dade Police. We'd like to speak with you, please."
From behind the cheap lace curtains, a surly young voice answered back. "What do you want? I ain't done nothing wrong!"
"Ms. Savaliski, we just want to talk," said Calleigh. "I'm Calleigh Duquesne, and this is my partner, Eric Delko. We want to speak to you about your friend... about Theresa Lopez."
A beat or two of time went by while Eric and Calleigh just looked at each other.
Finally the voice continued. "I don't know anything about what happened to Theresa... she was my friend and now she's gone. Just go away."
Lowering her voice, Calleigh said gently, "I know how hard this must be for you... it hurts to lose a friend, doesn't it?"
The voice hesitated. A muffled sob escaped. "She was my friend since fifth grade. My best friend... my only friend."
"I know," said Calleigh. "I know... please, ma'am, won't you let us in? We won't take up much of your time. We're trying to figure out who might have had a motive for hurting Theresa."
A few seconds passed. Eric was sure Savaliski had gone back to her television viewing. Finally, however, the door opened and the young woman emerged, a toddler perched upon her hip. The burdened hip jutted forward with the weight of the little boy.
The girl was in her early twenties, with lank blond hair gathered up in an untidy bun, and a terrier-like expression in her eyes: inquisitive, alert, and ready to jump at the least provocation. The child she held, a two-year old, was still wearing the remnants of his lunch about his mouth, chin and cheeks, and was clothed in a soiled undershirt. Angrily, he grabbed at a fistful of hair that had escaped his mother's bun and yanked it. Hard.
"Ow! Stop it, you little brute!" she cried out, giving him a quick shake. "Whaddaya think you're doing?"
Her eyes took in the cool and collected blonde who was standing in front of her, and quickly dismissed her. She then looked at Eric, and her eyes lingered with sudden interest.
"I told you I don't know anything about what happened to Theresa, but y'all can come in for a few minutes - for all the good it will do you."
Smiling wryly at the inhospitable welcome, Eric followed both the young woman and Calleigh into the warm house. The inside was as rundown as the outside, and she pointed them toward a sagging sofa covered with a loud, floral cover. Gingerly, both CSIs sat down. Vicki placed the 'little brute' on the floor and handed him a bag of Goldfish crackers to nibble on. Her motherly obligations now ostensibly fulfilled, she looked at the two CSIs.
"Okay, whaddaya wanna know?" she asked, reaching for the pack of cigarettes sitting on the coffee table. She picked up a packet of matches residing next to an ashtray already burdened with too much of the gray powdery residue.
In spite of herself, Calleigh winced. Nice, she thought. What a slob... does she ever clean out that ashtray? She frowned as she looked over at the child shoving cheesy fish-shaped crackers into his mouth with abandon. This can't be good. Poor kid... does she ever wipe his little mouth? No wonder he's angry!
Her partner, meanwhile, was focused on the boy's mother. "Did you see Theresa the night she was killed?" asked Eric.
"Yeah, she stopped by the house earlier in the day. She's Brandon's god mama," said Vicki, pointing her cigarette in the little boy's direction.
Brandon? thought Eric, looking uncertainly at the kid as he continued to stuff crackers into his mouth. The soap opera name seemed incongruous when paired up with the gobbling little rug rat staring up at him from the living-room floor. A gooey mixture of cheesy dough and saliva was settling in the corners of the kid's mouth. Eric was glad he hadn't yet had lunch and he uneasily glanced away.
"We were supposed to go out to a movie that night. An Antonio Banderas movie. I just love him. He's so handsome... smooth." She cocked her head and smiled suddenly, her terrier eyes fastening on Eric. "You know... you sorta remind me of him. I'm partial to Latin men."
Eric grinned while Calleigh rolled her eyes. "Ms. Savaliski," she said, "why didn't you go to the movie?"
Taking a drag from her cigarette, Vicki frowned. "My mother... she was supposed to watch Brandon. Guess going out with her boyfriend was more important than watching her own grandson! Can you believe it? Damned woman never was any good. Sure never did anything for me."
"So you stayed home?" asked Eric.
She patted the stray locks of hair that had escaped her bun, trying to smooth them back into place and smiled at Eric. "Yes, I did. I couldn't leave my boy home alone, now, could I? What kinda mother would I be if I did that? I'm a good mother. Not like my mama!"
Yeah, you're a good mother, thought Calleigh, looking at the soiled child, the cigarette smoke settling over him, and the television that probably blared soap operas and reality programming 24/7.
"Theresa was a good girl, Mr. Delko," continued Vicki, her eyes on Eric. "A good friend to me. Looked out for me. For Brandon, too. I can't believe anyone would want to hurt Theresa. She was class, you know?"
Eric nodded. "She ever mention anyone she was afraid of... worried about?"
Vicki leaned back in her chair, and took another drag from the cigarette, thinking. "There was one guy... creepy older guy. She'd just met him a couple of days ago... he was nobody special, you know? Just some perv... gotta lot of 'em around here. You learn how to go about your business, ignore 'em, you know?"
Again, Eric nodded. "She describe him to you? Say what it was about him that bothered her?"
The girl sat up, leaned forward and tapped her cigarette against the edge of the ashtray, affording Eric a view of generous breasts confined by a too-tight halter-top. As the ashes fell from the cigarette, she looked up at him, her alert eyes trying to gauge any possible interest. "One thing she mentioned... she said he had a weird voice."
"Weird?" asked Calleigh. "In what way?"
The girl ignored Calleigh, allowing her eyes to remain on Eric. "She said he kept gasping for air when he spoke; he made a gurgling or burp-like noise."
"Did she mention anything specific that he said?"
"No... just that he made her skin crawl. That's all. You think he's the guy that did it?" she asked.
"We don't know. We're just trying to get as much information at this point as we can."
Calleigh rummaged in her back pocket, pulling out a card. "Ms. Savaliski, thanks for your time; we appreciate it. If you think of anything else, please call me... okay?"
"Sure," the woman replied, standing up.
She walked them toward the door. Eric was about to follow Calleigh outside when Vicki stepped in front of him. "How about you? You got a card? I might remember something, you know?"
Eric smiled, hiding his distaste. Yeah, he thought, sure you will. "Here you go," he replied, handing her a card, ''in case you think of something later."
She grinned, her sharp little eyes watching him. "I sometimes have a real good memory, if I think real hard."
"Yeah, I'll bet you do," he said, allowing the door to close behind him.
Before Horatio could play the DVD, Frank Tripp knocked and opened the office's door. "Need some help?" he asked.
Horatio felt the woman beside him tense. "It's okay - this is Frank Tripp. He's a detective and one of my best friends. No need to worry."
He motioned Frank inside. "Come in, Frank. This is Catherine Kent. We're about to listen to a DVD she received."
Frank dipped his head in Catherine's direction. "Ma'am." Catherine was too nervous to respond.
"Okay," said Horatio, "let's go."
The room went silent for a few seconds as the three people waited anxiously for the DVD to begin. Soon, the silence was broken by the jarring pops and hisses that earlier generations had grown used to hearing on vinyl recordings of music. It was quickly apparent that the DVD was a recording of an old song.
The blankness of the computer screen slowly resolved itself into an image of a crude heart that had been jaggedly cut from bright red construction paper. The bizarre and chilling image remained frozen on the screen as the sound of musical strings began to fill the room. The age of the original recording made the instruments sound tinny and odd, giving the strings a ghostly effect. Finally, the voice of the singer wafted eerily through the small office...
The loveliness of Paris seems somehow sadly gay
The glory that was Rome is of another day
I've been terribly alone and forgotten in Manhattan
I'm going home to my city by the Bay
I left my heart in San Francisco
High on a hill, it calls to me
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars
The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care
My heart waits there in San Francisco
Above the blue and windy sea
When I come home to you, San Francisco
Your golden sun will shine for me
Frank looked at Horatio. "Tony Bennett?" he asked. "What the hell?"
Horatio turned to Catherine. She had gone pale. He couldn't understand it. The song seemed perfectly innocuous to him - the tune banal and the lyrics insipid. "Catherine?" he asked, raising his voice above the music.
"Keep listening," she whispered.
Horatio looked again at the computer screen. The paper heart was still there, and the music continued playing.
Suddenly a whispery voice imposed itself over the music.
"There now, young miss, stop squirming so... Like the song, do you? Rather fitting, from what I understand. Would you like to sing along?"
Horatio's brows drew together as he unconsciously moved closer to the computer, his ears intent on the strange breathy voice that vied for dominance with the recorded music. He heard a strange noise, like the ripping away of something. He glanced quickly in Frank's direction. The other cop returned his stare, a peculiar look on his face.
Just as Horatio was about to turn his attention back to the computer, he heard piercing, agonized screams.
He quickly looked at Catherine. She had her hands held tightly against her ears. Her features were screwed up in terror, with eyes tightly closed and lips clamped securely together. He could see the effort she was making to control her horror at the appalling sounds emanating from the computer.
And still the screams continued, almost overtaking the music.
"That's right, miss, sing along... sing your heart out!" whispered the recorded voice, while sly and silken laughter bubbled up between the labored words.
The lyrics on the DVD began to repeat as a sound of - sawing? - was heard. The screams grew louder, louder... and then died off...
The last audible sound was Bennett's voice, the track stuck on the same lyric, over and over -
I left my heart in San Francisco
I left my heart in San Francisco
I left my heart in San Francisco
And then... silence. The screen went blank.
After a moment, Horatio ejected the DVD from the computer. He stared at it, and then placed it in its plastic cover.
"Christ," said Frank, clearly shaken. "What the hell was that?"
Horatio swallowed hard. He looked at Catherine, at a loss as to what to say. He needn't have worried because she suddenly spoke up.
"That, gentlemen, was my husband's valentine to me," she said, and then fainted.
To be continued.