Hi everyone! I hope there are some of you out there still with me. I wanted to get an update for you all much, much earlier than this, and I am still not back 100% into this story, but I have been writing more recently and I couldn't in good conscious start anything else without updating this one. I've decided to do a time jump from where we left off last in this story, I apologize if it's a little awkward, it was just the easiest way to get back into it. I know this is short, and like I said, I'm still not 100% back into it, but thank you all so much for your patience, I hope to begin updating this more frequently and I hope you're still with me:)
Myka tapped her pen against her desk and glanced at the empty chair to her right. HG Wells hadn't been in that seat for almost four months. Myka hated how often she found her eyes straying to the chair, and wondered again why she didn't simply get rid of it. HG was done shadowing Myka. The second she had brought up her mother's case, the whole time they had tried to follow up on the new leads HG had found; and once that lead had died, Myka had stopped taking HG's calls. Eventually, HG took the hint, finished her book and went on tour. Myka was well aware of the fact that Claudia was still in semi regular contact with her, but the girl never brought her up in front of Myka. For which she was grateful and also a little annoyed about.
She sighed and wiped her brow, the heat of July in the city was getting to everyone. There had been a spike of violence in the last few weeks. Heat made everyone crazy, and this was the hottest summer on record in a while. Myka had solved four murders in the last month and a half alone.
Pete slipped by her desk and left an ice cold coffee as he went past. "Bless you." Myka said gratefully.
"Ah, don't get excited just yet, we've got another one." He warned.
Myka groaned and followed Pete out the door. Apparently, a woman's body had been found in an apartment in Queens. Myka, Pete and Claudia drove out to the scene, and cautiously headed upstairs, frowning, Myka held her hand out as she heard something. Motioning to Pete, the three of them easily stepped into silent communication, ready to burst into the apartment. Pete barreled through the door, yelling as he went; Myka right behind him. She gasped as the woman in front of her turned around, one hand tentatively holding a gun between her fingers, raising her arms up in surrender. "Darling, shall we always be destined to meet at gunpoint?" HG asked with a small smile. Myka froze. HG was standing above the body of a dead woman, gun in her hand. Myka glared and raised her own gun higher.
"Drop the gun slowly and put your hands behind your back." Myka ordered.
"Really?" HG asked, dropping her hands and frowning. "You all know I didn't hurt this woman. Now, Myka, she called me earlier and said..."
"You have the right to remain silent, I suggest you use it." Myka roughly cuffed HG's hands and pushed her out the door, refusing to look at either Pete or Claudia's baffled faces. This was really and truly the last thing she needed today.
Myka deposited HG into the interrogation room and walked out without a word. Cornering Claudia, she drilled the young woman for a few minutes about what HG had said to her recently before chugging the last of her cold coffee and going back in to face HG.
The other woman wasted no time. The second Myka entered the room, she quickly began speaking. "Myka, you cannot actually believe I killed that woman. I know we haven't been on the best terms as of late but..."
"You mean when you reopened my mother's murder, found out she wasn't the victim of random gang violence but had a specific hit placed on her; then forced me to shoot the only man who had any information on who put the hit on her in order to save your sorry ass. That, 'not the best terms'?" Myka asked. HG only bit her lip and shamefully looked down at the table.
"Myka, I am truly sorry about that. I was only trying to help, but I did not kill this woman. No matter what your anger is with me, you know that I am not capable of this." HG insisted.
"One of the things my job has taught me, is that you never really know anyone Wells." Myka said. "Tell me why you were at Kristen Jones' apartment."
HG sighed and Myka was about to yell, but the english woman finally spoke. "I knew her. She had called me the day before and asked me to come over, I had been busy, I only got her message this morning, it sounded desperate, so I went right over. The lock was broken, the room disheveled, and I found her body, I had been just about to call you and report it when you, Pete and Claudia came bursting in and arrested me."
"And you picked up the gun because?" Myka asked. "I mean, you shadowed me for months and you write crime novels for gods sake! HG, you know better than to pick up a weapon at a crime scene."
"I stepped on it. I picked it up before realizing what it was and had already gotten my fingerprints on it. My apologies."
Myka sighed and shook her head. "And the nature of your relationship with Miss Jones?" She asked while looking down at the file in front of her.
"Is that a hint of jealously?" HG asked attempting a smile. Myka only glared in response and HG gave her a small dejected sigh. "She was a jeweler, one of my friends referred me to her, I wanted her to make Christina a specialized necklace for her birthday coming up. We corresponded three times on the phone and I went to her shop twice. The third time was the message she left me yesterday."
"And just what did it say to get you rushing over to your jeweler's apartment?"
"She was aware that I had worked with the NYPD, she had asked me if I was still in contact with anyone. I had told her yes, she was afraid someone was stalking her, I was going to give her Claudia's number. She called in a panic, said she thought someone was following her home, and wanted the number. I called her back, but couldn't get through, and rushed over, and you know the rest."
Myka wasn't fully ready to just let HG off, but she knew there was no real reason she had to hold her. She got all of the information HG could give them, then attempted to send her home. HG wanted to stay and help, 'see the case through' were her exact words. Myka resoundingly said no and headed off to her desk to work, leaving HG alone with Pete and Claudia. She was vaguely aware that Claudia chatted with HG for a few minutes before the dark haired writer entered the elevator and left the building. Myka tried to forget HG was involved at all and threw herself into the case, working long throughout the night and only going home around nine when forced by Artie.
Myka shuffled into her apartment, the heat still in the high eighties despite the hour of night and ripped off her sweaty blouse and pants. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and ate it on the couch, in her underwear, while looking over the progress she had made during the day. Likely, Kristen Jones had been killed by her stalker, Tommy Mears. They had set up an appointment with him for 9am the next morning. The man thought he was just helping give any information he could, but all points concluded to him killing her. Myka was pretty sure they'd have a confession by ten. She stood up and rinsed off her dishes, drank a glass of water and shut off all the lights. Her apartment didn't have air conditioning, she'd never had it as a kid, and didn't actually like it much. Turning the fan in her window on high, she hoped it would suck the hot air out of her apartment, while the second fan blew cool air directly onto her. Myka slipped out of her bra and pulled on a tank top, flopping onto her bed and yanking a sheet over her body. She was incapable of sleeping without some type of blanket. Hours later, she was still tossing and turning, half asleep, but still too aware, uncomfortable and exhausted. Myka had been sleeping horribly the last few months. She had gone back to therapy at the beginning of the summer, aware that she was not taking care of herself properly anymore. Finding out that someone had wanted her mother dead, that they had gone to great lengths to make it look random, that she had no leads since she shot the hit man who had killed her mother in the precinct; it had taken it's toll on her.
Pete had noticed that she hadn't been eating properly, the bags under her eyes grew as insomnia and nightmares took back over. Myka called her therapist and set up weekly appointments and made sure to get to every one. She had thought that she was beyond this, but apparently she wasn't. Her therapist said that "getting beyond it" wasn't the point, it was learning how to live with it. Myka didn't want to live with it, she wanted it to be over. She was realizing that was part of the problem.
Exhausted, Myka gave up and rolled over, reaching for the prescribed sleeping pills on her nightstand and swallowing one with a glass of water. She rolled back over and turned off the fan that was facing her, too cold to keep it on. She closed her eyes and curled up on her side, listening to the low hum of the fan in her window and finally, finally succumbing to much needed sleep.