Chapter 8: Chapter 8

HEARTLESS

Chapter Eight - Walking Through the Fire

"Hello, handsome," smiled Calleigh, glancing up from her microscope and noticing Horatio standing at the entrance to her work station. In a flash, the sunny smile vanished from her face and a worried frown replaced it. "Good Lord, Horatio, you look like you didn't sleep a wink last night."

Horatio slid onto the stool next the lab table. "I didn't - at least, not much," he admitted.

His neck and shoulders were tense after the sleepless night, and he couldn't resist massaging the tender area. "Eric was going to have Denton run an info check for me last night; do you know if anything has come through yet?"

"I haven't seen anything… I haven't had a chance to speak with Eric or Denton this morning."

"Denton's a wizard," said Eric, walking through the door at just that moment, waving a folder. "He always delivers. Here, H – just picked this up. I haven't looked at it yet.

Horatio took the proffered file and began silently reading its contents. Calleigh and Eric exchanged worried looks as Horatio's features tensed. "Christ," he whispered.

"What is it, H?" asked Eric.

Horatio looked up. "Seems Catherine's ex isn't too far from here. He's a 'guest' at the Miami Dade Correctional Facility."

"For?"

Horatio reviewed the file. "Seems he got a little rough with a server at The Boulevard."

"The Boulevard? Phew... that's a pretty rare atmosphere," said Calleigh. "Miami's playpen for the 'Rich and Famous,' you know... you don't get in there unless you know someone or you have lots of money."

"Well, Mr. Barton has both contacts and money." He stared at some point to the right of Calleigh's head, his eyes focused on something only he could see. "It was my understanding he was imprisoned in San Francisco. At least, that is what Catherine led me to believe."

He shook his head, and focused on the file again. "Listen to this: while he was in San Francisco, he was arrested on charges of attempted murder..." Horatio paused, remembering. "Catherine mentioned murder charges."

"Did he serve time?"

Horatio smiled, but his look was anything but cheerful. "Guess who his attorney was?"

Calleigh and Eric looked at him blankly.

"William Peterson Hunter."

A low whistle escaped Eric's lips. "Billy Hunter... that's pretty damned impressive."

"You bet it is," said Horatio, his expression sour. "Hunter's the go-to guy for celebrities and bad little rich boys. He did his job well - Barton got off on a technicality." He continued reading the file. "No rap sheet prior to the charges in San Francisco. Before 'Frisco, he was the poster boy for charming dullness."

"Okay, so he left California – and came to Miami…why?"

Horatio said nothing, chewing his bottom lip. He suspected what lured Barton to Miami, and the thought made him anything but happy.

"You said he got rough with one of the girls at The Boulevard... how rough?" asked Calleigh.

Horatio pulled a photo from the file and handed it to her. The photograph was that of a beautiful brunette with short hair. Her long, slender neck was marred by deep purple and ugly brown bruises. But it was the eyes that bothered Horatio – sapphire blue and filled with a terrible confusion. She looked both terrified and stunned, seemingly surprised to find herself before a police camera, having her injuries captured on film and documented.

Studying the photo, Calleigh wondered if she should bring up the most startling aspect of the photograph. She raised her eyes to Horatio, but ever quick, he knew what she was thinking.

"Yeah," he said, "I see it, too. She looks very much like Catherine, doesn't she?"

It was true. The girl in the photograph bore an uncanny resemblance to Catherine, and it bothered Horatio.

"Maybe we should go see her?" asked Eric. "Find out what set Barton off... What do you think?"

"I think that's a fine idea," replied Horatio, still reading through the file. "Now, this - this is interesting. Seems our boy has had one visitor - and one only. And she shows up every three or four weeks."

He handed another photograph to Calleigh. She could feel Eric looking over her shoulder. "Wow," he said, "she's beautiful… in a creepy way."

Calleigh looked at him, and so did Horatio. "Why do you say that, Eric?" she asked.

Eric looked uncomfortable. "I don't know... just a... a feeling. The eyes... I can't explain it." Eric turned the photograph over. Printed on the back was the name FAITH FOSDICK.

Thinking, Horatio began tapping the top of the lab counter with his fingernail, unaware he was doing so. "So... that's one-half of the duo. Eric is right - there is something disturbing about the woman. Whenever Catherine mentions her, she turns pale. Well, she's our boy's regular visitor, his only visitor, in fact. Which begs the question: where's her husband?"

He began to rifle through the file, and found what he was looking for - a photo of Emerson Fosdick.

"Good Lord," remarked Calleigh, staring at Fosdick's image. "He looks like he escaped from an old movie, you know the kind I mean, the ones shown on that old movie channel..." She suddenly snapped her fingers: "I've got it! He looks like Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.!"

"Come again?" Eric looked at her blankly.

"He's one of the old-time movie stars; big in the twenties and thirties."

"How in the hell do you know this stuff?" asked Eric.

"When I was a little girl, I used to read my grandma's movie magazines." A brilliant, teasing smile flashed across her face. "I'm very well-rounded; I know all the important stuff!"

Horatio couldn't help but grin. Calleigh's enthusiasm for gossip magazines and TV shows was legend among the team, and the so-called 'bullet girl' took a great deal of teasing for it. "Yes ma'am, you do."

He continued reading the file. "Okay, people, this is also interesting. Seems Emerson is dead... committed suicide. And shortly after our boy, Josiah, managed to evade the murder charges in San Francisco."

"H, what does the file say about the charges in San Francisco? Any details?"

Horatio's lips thinned. "He beat up a woman in a parking garage... wait, it was the garage in the building in which he lived."

"With Catherine?" asked Calleigh.

"I assume so," said Horatio, frowning. "I believe they were still married at the time. I'll have to ask her about this." He looked at his friends. "She is holding out on me. She's upset, scared. I get that, but I've got to get her to talk."

Calleigh had taken the file from Horatio and was flipping through the pages. "Horatio, did you see the copy of the news article that Denton included? It's about Barton's mother."

Horatio looked at it. "Now this is noteworthy, isn't it? Perhaps a call to Mrs. Winifred Barton might be in order." He paused. "She seems to have some misgivings about her boy, Joe… Tell you what: Eric and Calleigh, I'd like you to pay a visit to the girl Barton roughed up..." He reached for her photo and turned it over. The name JENNA BRUNSWICK was printed on the back. "Calleigh, you're good with frightened females... you got this?"

"Yes sir," she said brightly.

Horatio pulled out his phone. "Francis," he said when the detective answered, "got a little errand I could use your assistance with. How'd you like to take a little trip to the Keyes and spend some time with a beautiful woman?" He grinned as he pulled the phone slightly away from his ear.

Eric and Calleigh exchanged amused glances. Frank's aversion to small prop planes was well known.

"Frank, Frank..." continued Horatio, "I need you to pay a visit to a Mrs. Faith Fosdick... I think there's a murky connection to what's going on with the Lopez case... yes, Frank, I did say 'murky,' but you're going to bring a little clarity to it for me – right?" He was silent, listening to Frank for several seconds.

"Look, pal, if I could, I'd go myself, but I have another player in this mess to pay a visit to... Thanks, Frank. I'm going to send you a copy of the particulars. Let me know your impressions of Mrs. Fosdick; I think you'll find her... fascinating."

Terminating the call, he looked into brown eyes filled with laughter. "Frank not a happy boy, hey?"

"Eric, that's putting it mildly. But I trust his instincts... and I need you here."

"You said you were going to pay someone a visit... who do you intend to see?" asked Calleigh.

Horatio stood up from the stool and slipped his phone into his pocket. "I think it's time to pay Catherine's ex a call," he said, his face grim. "I want to see this character who terrifies Catherine so. Maybe it will help me understand why she's so reticent to talk. But first, I want to see Catherine – and place a call to Barton's mommy."

After Horatio left, Calleigh turned to Eric, wearing a concerned look. "Hey, you... are you okay? You left the house this morning before I was awake."

He grinned. "Had your coffee brewing, though, didn't I?"

She smiled. Eric had converted her to his famous Cubano coffee. "You did. Thank you."

"Yeah, well, I know what a bear you can be before you get that first cup of caffeine down."

"I'm not that bad…" she began.

"Wanna bet? Why do you think I made the coffee and ran?" His white teeth flashed against full red lips, and Calleigh wanted – suddenly and desperately – to kiss him. Hard.

But she didn't… not in the lab.

She raised her hand to his face, and fleetingly stroked his jaw, her eyes serious. "Really, honey, are you okay? When you weren't there this morning, I worried... you know, after last night..."

Eric's eyes softened at the tenderness in her own. "It's okay, Cal. I left early to see what Denton came up with. H was pretty antsy when I spoke with him yesterday – I wanted to get the information to him ASAP. That's all."

He hesitated a moment. "But I meant what I said last night. I want to marry you."

"And I meant what I said," she replied softly, her voice even.

He nodded. "About proving myself. Listen to me, Calleigh: I'm dead serious about the two of us. We've got something good – and we've got what it takes to make it work."

Looking at him, Calleigh could see he was in earnest. "One step at a time, honey, okay?" She paused, her face suddenly sad. "I've made some… some missteps… I want to get it right this time. I don't want to get hurt again… I don't want you hurt either."

Eric knew she was thinking of Hagan. What an asshole, he thought, remembering how the guy had endangered Calleigh's life – and how he'd taken his own in the Ballistics Lab.

One night, Eric had fallen asleep with Calleigh in his arms, only to awaken with a start when she suddenly sat up, tears streaming down her face, her voice ragged with pain. "John! No… oh no, John…"

That was the first time Eric realized Calleigh meant more to him than a convenient romance. She wasn't just another girl; she was the one. Always so self-assured, so happy… it was a jolt to Eric to realize there was something sad and needy beneath the happy façade. It brought out something strong, protective in him… something mature and tender. Trying to calm her, he'd eased her back down into his arms, murmuring soothing words mixed with gentle caresses, and eventually she calmed down.

The next morning, he opened his eyes to find her sitting cross-legged before him, a cup of coffee held securely between her hands, her head tilted, studying him.

'Hey, babe,' he said, adjusting the pillows behind him so he could look at her. 'What are you doing?' He reached out to smooth some wayward locks behind her shoulder, loving the look of her in one of his shirts.

Her expression while gazing at him had been serious, but a look of genuine pleasure lightened her features at his touch. "Looking at the most gorgeous man in Miami… and he's laying right here, in my bed!"

He blushed, and then felt stupid. It wasn't as if he was a fifteen-year old virgin, but Calleigh had that effect on him. She caught him off guard, got beneath his cool exterior. It was disconcerting – and a little thrilling, too.

'Look at you,' she crowed, laughter bubbling up. 'Are you blushing, Eric Delko?'

He cleared his throat. 'I am not.'

'Yes, you are. I can't believe it, Don Juan actually blushing because I said he was gorgeous. Like you don't know it.

'Tell me, lover boy, how many women have told you just that thing?'

She was still smiling as she asked the question, but Eric suddenly sensed a vein of seriousness hidden within the teasing.

"Don't be silly, Calleigh.'

'No, tell me… do they all tell you that you're beautiful?'

Her question made him uncomfortable and he wondered where this was leading. 'Calleigh, what's this about?'

She looked down at her coffee, a frown creasing her brow. Refusing to look at him, she murmured softly, 'Thank you for… for being there for me last night. I, um, well, usually once I have the dream, I'm unable to get back to sleep. Thank you for helping me through it...'

This time, she was the one blushing, and still she wouldn't meet his eyes.

'Cal… do you have the dream often?'

'No… not often… only when I'm feeling happy. It's like… well, it's like I don't deserve to be happy, you know? I mean, John… well, he'll never get another chance to be happy.'

'Christ, Cal, that was his choice, not yours.'

'He loved me, Eric.'

'Yeah, in his twisted way.'

She said nothing, and he felt remorse. 'Look, babe, Hagan was a wacko. What he did, he did to himself. Thank God he didn't take you along for the ride! As for not deserving to be happy, why would you say that? That's guilt talking – and it's guilt you shouldn't be carrying.'

She looked at him then, her eyes a pair of shimmering emeralds in the rose-colored light of early morning. 'I'm happy with you, Eric… that's why the dream came.'

He reached for her coffee mug, placing it on the nightstand, and drew her into his arms, holding her tight. 'Stay happy with me, Cal… every time the dream comes, I'll be here. We'll fight it down together.'

Thinking about Calleigh's question that morning about past lovers, he felt a quick pang. His reputation as a lothario was once a source of pride to him, and it had pleased him when the team bandied it about the Crime Lab. Even H often teasingly chided him about his newest 'flavor of the week.'

It hurt him to realize Calleigh's insecurity about him had its basis in his past behavior – foolish behavior that he'd taken a machismo pleasure in, believing it was a symbol of his Latin virility. Even now, he sometimes fell back into his flirtatious ways.

He knew he was a good-looking man, and attracting women had always been easy for him. Until Calleigh, most of the women he'd dated had been gorgeous bimbos; they had also been self-involved. That had been fine with him at the time. He hadn't been looking for anything serious. He enjoyed the chase, and he loved the sex. Most of all, he had liked the variety.

He had liked it all just fine - until he realized his feelings for Calleigh had changed.

First working colleagues, and then friends, his relationship with her had deepened over the years. In the beginning, she tended to treat him as a goofy younger brother, even though she was only a year or so older.

Well, you didn't exactly act very mature, did you, Romeo? he thought wryly.

From the start, though, he had liked her long, silky blond hair, the way it swayed back and forth against the small of her back. He liked the sparkle in her eyes, the sweet smile, her humor. He respected her abilities, and he knew enough not to bullshit her. She had seemed to take his measure – and if she found him wanting initially, she was always warm and willing to listen to his worries and enthusiasms.

There was a time when he thought there might be something going on between Calleigh and H. They had an easy way with each other, often flirtatious. He'd heard a few remarks Horatio had tossed her way, and wondered if perhaps they'd been sleeping together at the time. As it turned out, they hadn't. As Calleigh later confided, they were close friends, nothing more, but she also made it clear she'd walk through fire for him.

"There aren't many people I respect as much as Horatio. I'd do anything for him."

Perhaps it was wrong, but the remark nettled Eric, making him feel not a little jealous. Something of that must have shown on his face because Calleigh had suddenly laughed at him, and leaned forward to kiss him passionately.

"Eric, you and me… that's different from my friendship with Horatio. Okay?"

"Would you walk through fire for me?" he had asked, feeling childish but needing to hear the answer.

"For you and with you… you just need to hold out your hand." She then took his hand and raised it to her mouth, gently kissing the palm. "All you need to do is hold out your hand – and I'll always take it in mine."

Remembering all that, Eric looked at the woman standing before him, the woman he'd asked to marry him – the woman who told him he first had to prove himself.

"Cal," he said, "I'm holding out my hand to you… do you remember what you said?"

For a moment, she looked at him blankly. Slowly, she realized what he was referring to, and she smiled. She reached for his hand, holding it in both of hers.

With a serious note in his voice - one that Calleigh had never before heard - he said quietly, "Walk through the fire with me, Calleigh – not for me. With me. And I promise, I'll always walk through it with you.

To be continued...