HEARTLESS
Chapter Twelve – Remembrance and Regrets
Horatio sat in his car, angrily drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel. The object of his anger? Himself.
What the hell was that all about? he wondered, staring at the hotel he'd just left. If there was anything Horatio hated, it was losing control of a situation – and that's just what he'd allowed to happen in Catherine's room.
What was I thinking?
But that's the problem: he hadn't been thinking about anything! He'd been reacting. Reacting to a pretty girl in a snug sweater like he was some love-starved teenager too long denied physical release.
One thing for certain Horatio knew: it was unwise for a cop to ever let his personal feelings intrude in a case. If you wanted to be effective, you had to be objective – and it's hard to remain objective when your feelings are involved.
He'd learned that the hard way. A bitter feeling coursed through him as he recalled his ex-wife, Rachel. Like him, she'd been a cop with the NYPD. They immediately clicked when they'd started working together, and it wasn't long before they were involved – and then came marriage. After a year, they knew they'd made a mistake, but they held on longer than they should have. It was an unhappy marriage and an even unhappier work situation.
It was one of the reasons he'd left New York. Miami seemed a million miles away from the drab unhappiness of his former city, his stalled career and a miserable marriage.
From the start, something had attracted him to Catherine. In spite of their differences, he'd felt drawn to her. But something inside him, something honest, made him wonder if the attraction wasn't a case of 'just making do.' The thought made him uncomfortable.
The attraction, the electricity, was there... but something was missing. Not that his hormones cared about the distinction.
Catherine was something new for Horatio - someone unique. Certainly not the type of woman who'd normally attract him.
She was earnest, sometimes too earnest. He appreciated that she wanted to help others, but he was uncomfortable with the preachy aspect of the little kitchen she ran and the way she attempted to play down her good looks. Nun-like women weren't his style – or women who dressed too soberly. He always wondered what they were hiding - not physically, but emotionally.
He wasn't sure who had shown up earlier when he entered Catherine's hotel room. One thing was certain: she wasn't playing the nun then. She was dressed to impress, and boy had she ever! The change had been unsettling. It was too sudden. He hadn't been prepared for the transformation in her demeanor. He'd come for answers about Barton, not an afternoon of play.
What Catherine eventually shared about her ex-husband and his playmate, Faith, had disturbed Horatio greatly.
He understood now why Catherine hid herself away. Even so, he wondered at the fear Barton was able to provoke in her. Was he really that fearsome or were Catherine's memories making him seem larger than he really was? He also wondered if the pills at Emerson Fosdick's little get-togethers had anything to do with Catherine's bizarre accounting of what had gone on. How many pills had she been forced to ingest during those strange little soirees? Were her memories even reliable?
Well, the only way to find out was to see Barton for himself, and that's just what he planned to do.
Thinking again of Catherine's behavior, Horatio frowned. It had been so odd, so out of character… almost as if she wanted to seduce him. The combativeness had been new, too. Prior to today, she'd been dove-like, willing to listen, to answer his questions, even if reluctantly. Today she'd thrown her frustration and anger in his face. She'd challenged him!
And he'd liked it.
It answered something primitive inside him. Something he wasn't sure he was comfortable with. He had impulsively pulled her close, kissed her – and he'd wanted to do more…
He'd acted like a rookie with his first case, allowing feelings to overwhelm good judgment. He knew better than that!
Since he first took responsibility for his team, he'd fought to keep his personal feelings separate from the job. A passionate man by nature, he fought hard for control, refusing to get involved with the women he met in his line of work – victims or colleagues. It was his preferred method of operation, and except for the night of Speed's death, he'd held to it – no matter how much it cost him.
And it had cost him a lot.
He thought suddenly of Calleigh.
Another impulsive embrace, one from several years ago. The memory of that embrace and what followed still bit him at times. Perhaps that's why he so often tamped down his feelings, refusing to remember things said and felt, especially now when he saw her with Eric.
Sad, Horatio looked at his fingertips and stilled their tattoo against the steering wheel.
Thinking about the past and what might have been was not a line of thought Horatio was keen on pursuing.
He mentally pushed aside thoughts of yesteryear.
Besides, why was he thinking about Calleigh, especially now, after having almost bedded Catherine? There was no connection…
Was there?
Pal, you better figure out what this is all about – something's not right here.
He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts and then picked up his cell phone. Impatiently, he waited through several rings before getting Frank's voicemail.
THIS IS FRANK TRIP. IF YOU'RE TRYING TO REACH ME, YOU'D BETTER HAVE A DAMNED GOOD REASON. YOU KNOW THE DRILL – LEAVE A MESSAGE.
Momentarily diverted, Horatio grinned, listening to his grumpy friend's recording. It was classic Tripp.
"Francis, call me – sooner rather than later. I think I've sent you into the lion's den without a sword. I want to talk to you about Mrs. Fosdick."
Horatio tossed the phone onto the seat beside him where it began to buzz. Retrieving it, he quickly answered. "Frank?"
"Not even close."
The vision of the green-eyed blonde appeared in his mind as he listened to her voice, and Horatio smiled. "Ma'am. You've got something for me?"
"Horatio, Eric and I've just finished interviewing Jenna Brunswick. It was… interesting."
The tone of Calleigh's voice told him at once that something wasn't quite right. "How so?"
"She had some odd things to say about Joe Barton… are you still going to see him today?"
"That's the plan. What did Brunswick have to say?"
"Well, the night she met Barton, she was working the bar at the Alahambra. Initially, she found him attractive. Charming. He told her he was a widower and that she reminded him of his wife. She admitted she found the reminiscing about his wife touching. She got the impression that he was lonely, and was still missing her."
"Yeah, I'll bet…"
"Horatio, maybe it's a woman's maternal instinct, wanting to comfort someone who seems hurt. Maybe that's why she first found him attractive. We women… well, we're like that – we are touched sometimes by need…"
Is that what you felt for me, sweetheart, that night in front of Speed's locker? My need?
He quickly dropped the thought, and forced his attention back to what Calleigh was saying.
"Anyway, after she got off work, he confronted her in a parking lot. She didn't hear him approach until he was almost on top of her. That spooked her. But when she turned around and saw it was her 'friend' from the bar, she was relieved. Then he got rough with her.
"She said he quickly transformed from the charming, attractive guy she'd been speaking with in the bar into something else, and he shoved her against the car. That's when he tried to strangle her."
Horatio waited for Calleigh to continue, but she seemed reluctant to go on. "Calleigh, you're not giving me anything I didn't get from reading the police report. What aren't you telling me?"
She hesitated for a heartbeat. "There were… voices."
Horatio's brows drew together as he tried to figure out what she meant. "Voices? Whose?"
"Barton's. According to Brunswick, when he turned on her, he became very excited and seemed to morph into something else. It wasn't just his manner that frightened her; it was his voice. I mean voices. Plural. Brunswick said she heard more than one voice coming from his mouth. She was very insistent on that point. The memory of it upset her."
"Hysteria," said Horatio. "She probably imagined it in her distress."
"That's what Eric says…" Calleigh's voice trailed off.
"But you're not buying it?"
She sighed. "I don't know, Horatio. She didn't seem the hysterical type to me. She was certainly upset while telling the story, and admitted she still experiences episodes of post-trauma. She told us the voices continue to haunt her dreams. She believes Barton calls out to her at night…"
Horatio didn't say anything for a minute, trying to assess the meaning of Calleigh's words. She was more bothered than she was letting on. At this point in their relationship, he knew Calleigh. He was attuned to her speech patterns, her feelings… there was something she wasn't saying.
"Spill it, sweetheart," he said.
He heard her take a deep breath. "Here's the thing, Horatio. When she hears Barton call out to her, it isn't her name he's using. She said the entire time he was choking her, he was calling her by another name."
Suddenly Horatio knew where this was going. His mouth dry, he had trouble getting the question out. "He called her Catherine, didn't he?"
"I'm sorry, Horatio… I hate having to tell you that... I know you have feelings for her… "
For a moment Horatio couldn't speak. He leaned his head back against the car seat, his eyes closed.
"Horatio?"
Calleigh's voice forced him back to what she was saying. "Barton goes after women who bear a strong resemblance to Catherine; he calls them by her name. That's a pretty clear-cut case of psychotic behavior, of obsession."
"Tell me, Calleigh, this thing about multiple voices… what do you think that's about?"
"Hmm, well…"
Horatio smiled slightly, imagining the blond ballistics expert chewing her lower lip as her mind ran through a host of possibilities. Finally she spoke.
"I don't know… To tell you the truth, if I hadn't been the one to interview Brunswick, I, too, would probably have dismissed the stuff about voices as hysteria. But, Horatio, while she was telling us the story, her eyes kept darting around the room. I kinda got the feeling she feared that even speaking about Barton might cause him to appear. She's clearly frightened of him."
"That's natural – he nearly killed her. It doesn't matter if he's locked away or not. She's going to be frightened." He thought of Catherine, and something pricked the edges of his mind, something he couldn't quite put together.
"Maybe," said Calleigh doubtfully. "Has Catherine ever said anything about Barton's voice sounding strange?"
Horatio thought about it. "No…"
"Maybe you should ask her about it."
"Maybe I should," he agreed, "but I think I'll see Barton first, draw my own conclusions. Catherine is as frightened of Barton as Brunswick. I want to see this bastard for myself. I want to know just what it is about him that provokes such fear."
He rubbed a hand across his eyes, suddenly tired. "Have you been able to contact Barton's mother yet?"
"Eric is trying to reach her now. The plan is to visit her."
"Today, Calleigh. I want to know what she has to say about her son. Something Catherine once said leads me to believe that he and mama may not be on the best of terms."
"Okay, boss, we're on it." She paused. "Horatio…"
"Yes?"
"Be careful," she said softly. "I don't have a good feeling about this and I can't explain why. I can interview Barton's mother on my own… shall I send Eric to meet you? I'd feel better if you didn't go in there by yourself..."
"Not necessary," he laughed. "Barton is in a maximum security facility. There will be a guard in the room at all times. No need to worry. But thanks for the concern."
"Always," she said, her voice quiet.
After a second, Calleigh terminated the call, and Horatio put the phone down. His heart repeated the foolish little word.
Always.
Just one word – and melancholy washed over him.
Only one word, and that quickly, all of Horatio's efforts at forgetting the past came to nothing. His thoughts drifted back in time.
He stood in front of Speed's locker, performing a task he never expected or wanted.
Speed was dead, and Horatio Caine would never be the same. Something inside whispered that he'd crossed a line and would never again be the man he once was.
He felt Speed's death keenly. Why hadn't he been firmer with him? He'd been too easy on him about the maintenance of his gun. Subtlety often escaped Speed. Horatio knew that! Only weeks ago, he'd gifted him with a gun cleaning kit. It was a message, one he assumed Speed understood.
So much for assumptions.
Oh, Speed!
The memory of kneeling by his friend's twitching body, seeing the panic in his eyes as he went through the death throes… it would be with him forever. So would the memory of the warm blood that settled against his face as he listened for some sign of life in the stilled body.
The guilt choked him. He chastised himself for not being more insistent with him about maintaining his weapon in good working condition.
He was the leader! He was responsible for Speed, for his team. It was his duty to step up to the plate when they were in error and straighten them out. Instead… instead he'd given him a gun cleaning kit!
Christ…
He'd almost finished going through Speed's things when Calleigh approached, the ballistics report in hand. They went through it together. And together they'd come to a conclusion that still honored their friend, allowing for possibilities if not probabilities.
The weapon could have malfunctioned.
Horatio tried to believe it.
He looked into Calleigh's eyes and saw the same desire to believe. He saw something else there, too - something that reached out to him, pulling him from despair. She needed him and he needed her. It was as simple and as complicated as that.
And in that moment, he didn't give a damn about all his past resolutions about keeping his heart out of the work place. Not then… not there. Not with Calleigh.
Pulling her close, inhaling the scent of her hair, he molded the length and curves of her body close to his. God, it had felt so good, so right… There wasn't an inch of space where their bodies weren't touching. She melted into him, fitting her body to his. It felt as though she'd been created just for him, as if it had always been meant to be this way.
He realized he was murmuring her name. "Calleigh, Calleigh…" Like a sweet benediction, he couldn't stop repeating it. She was his lifeline... "Calleigh."
Finally, she broke away and looked into his eyes. "Come home with me tonight, Horatio… please… I can't be alone…"
Horatio stared out the car's windshield, not seeing the hotel or its grounds or the street where he sat parked.
He remembered waking the next morning, her body curled next to his. He'd kissed her forehead lightly and heard her sigh. She'd touched his lips with her slim fingers and murmured, "I'll always remember last night, Horatio… always…"
Always.
Horatio slowly put the key into the car's ignition.
He didn't want think about this now, but couldn't seem to stop. What was happening to him? Where was his control?
He didn't want to remember what had happened after that night, the cowardly way in which he'd kept away from her, trying to distance himself. He'd been too afraid of his feelings to confront them. He didn't want the complication in his life.
He'd been a coward – and when he'd finally worked up the courage to tell Calleigh how he felt, it was too late.
Convinced he didn't care, two years later she admitted to him she was seeing Eric.
But you never told her how you felt! You let her go, you coward! If you had told her, she wouldn't have gone to Eric. You know that! Things could have been so different!
But no - he'd listened to her admission and held his tongue, keeping his heart a closed book.
And now? That boat had sailed. He knew it in his heart.
Besides, she was good for Eric.
Yeah, but is Eric good for her?
Horatio didn't want to think about that. He tried not to think about the looks Calleigh sometimes gave him.
Like Horatio with Catherine, was Calleigh also 'just making do?'
Feeling guilty, he thought of Eric and banished the traitorous thoughts from his head. Eric was trying to prove himself to Calleigh, to do the right thing... but can a leopard change his spots?
He had to stop thinking about what might have been.
He had a job to do.
This is what happens when you let memories intrude, when you let your control slip.
You get distracted.
He'd learned that a long time ago. He needed to get hold of himself. He needed to figure out what was going on with Catherine, why she'd acted so differently today.
Out of the blue, something Calleigh's father once said came to mind.
He and Calleigh had been working late, going over a case in the lab, when Calleigh got the call that her old man had had a few too many and was too inebriated to make it home on his own. This was not the first time that Calleigh had gotten a call like this, and he watched her eyes darken with concern as she told the caller she'd be there shortly.
She'd looked at Horatio apologetically and said she had to go. Ignoring her protests that she could handle her father without help, Horatio had insisted on accompanying her.
He knew a lot about drunken fathers… had a personal history with one.
But Calleigh's old man had been a revelation to him. Instead of being a mean, violent drunkard like Horatio's old man, Kenwall Duquesne had been a charming, penitent drunk.
Horatio had watched Calleigh patiently encourage her father to get into the backseat of the car. She'd been gentle with him, tolerant of his drunken clumsiness.
It was while watching Calleigh with her father that Horatio realized he loved her. He loved her courage, her kindness, her forgiving nature. He finally saw her clearly.
She was more than the 'sunshine girl' the team had dubbed her. She was a brave woman who kept her sorrows to herself, who refused to acknowledge them publicly. She was not one to seek pity or consolation.
For the first time, Horatio understood that it was not her beloved guns that were her weapon against the world; it was her brilliant smile, which kept people from looking too closely at the vulnerable person who hid behind it.
She had glanced up at him and caught him looking at her. Something of what he was feeling must have shown in his eyes because she smiled sadly while a blush traveled across her cheeks. "Everyone has their own sorrow to bear, Horatio."
If anyone understood that, it was the intensely private Horatio Caine.
After they'd gotten him settled, Kenwall looked at Horatio and offered a slurred apology.
"I'm not always like this, lieutenant. You can ask Calleigh… Sometimes life just scares me. It's too real… and that's when I get to drinking… I can't handle bad memories.
"I lost a baby girl once, did you know that? Calleigh had a little sister, died of heart trouble when she was just ten… I get to thinking about that sometimes; it gets me down. Scares me a little, too. And so I get to drinking…"
"Daddy, you can't dwell on the past," said Calleigh, buckling his seatbelt. "You can't let the sadness scare you…"
"I know, lambchop, but I'm not strong like you. The bourbon… it makes me strong. Helps me face what I can't face when I'm sober…"
Horatio sat up straight in the car seat, realizing suddenly what had been circling the edges of his thoughts since the encounter in Catherine's room.
Had she been drinking?
He hadn't noticed any alcohol or her breath and yet…
She had displayed a false courage that only now occurred to him. The clothing, the makeup, the attempt at seduction, the combativeness... Like Kenwall, was Catherine using alcohol to face something she couldn't face when sober?
The thought cleared his head of old memories and he looked at his watch. It was time to meet the man who was the object of Catherine's fears and Jenna Brunswick's nightmares.
He pulled away from the hotel, determined to get to the bottom of things.
To be continued...