Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop
"Molly! Up! Time for school!" called Nora as she walked past her daughter's room toward the kitchen. She was used to waking up early; four years of the same routine had her body rising at six automatically. The girl normally got up when her mother's voice carried into her room, aware that if she wasn't walking into the living room in five minutes, her mother would return and not be as pleasant about waking her up.
Nora started breakfast, pouring out Molly's cereal and adding milk, setting the glass of apple juice next to the bowl at the dining room table before getting her own food. Oatmeal was microwaving when Brandon came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to the skin at his wife's neck, exposed by the sleep shirt she was wearing still.
"Morning, sweetheart," he murmured as he reached around her to grab the loaf of bread and untwist the plastic-covered metal wire. He had a tendency of losing them as he put them down to take out the two slices of bread for toast. This time he kept hold on the yellow tie so he could re-secure the loaf.
She smiled as she took the bowl from the microwave, giving the flakes a stir before sticking her finger into the mixture to make sure it was hot enough. "You going into work early?" she asked, scooping up some of the oatmeal and eating it, leaning her lower back against the counter.
He shrugged, taking out the orange juice to pour a glass. "Might as well. We could use the overtime and I don't mind. The office is quieter in the morning before everyone else shows up." Brandon took out the raspberry jelly and a knife, tapping the flat edge of the blade against the palm of his hand as he waited for the toast to spring up.
"Don't stay there too long tonight." Nora kissed Brandon on the lips just as the toast was finished. "Date night. My sister's going to take Molly to the movies and have a sleepover. The apartment is all ours for the night."
Brandon forgot about the toast and tugged Nora's body against his, a hand possessively on her hip as he kissed her. "Don't tempt me, woman," he whispered against her cheek as she breathed heavily.
It took her a moment to collect herself enough to check the time. "Where's Molly? It's been almost ten minutes."
Nora set the bowl of oatmeal on the kitchen island and went back down the hall to their daughter's room. "Good golly, miss Molly," she started singing, her trick to get the girl out of bed in a flash, as she turned the knob to the door. "I've missed your smiling face." Nora made the lyrics up as she strolled over to the bed and wiggled Molly's shoulder. "Good golly, miss Molly…"
Brandon was to the door in an instant when he heard Nora's scream. "Nora, darling, what's wrong?"
Nora was running past him to the bathroom, a hand over her mouth. He stepped into the room, pulling the covers back from his daughter's body. Did she change her shirt into one of Isabelle's weird black skull ones as a practical joke? It didn't take much to scare his wife, but her reaction did seem a little drastic for a little cartoon skull.
He was suddenly thankful he hadn't eaten his toast yet.
"Oh God…" he managed, choking it out as his hands fluttered over his daughter's body, unsure whether to touch her or not. "Oh my God." He settled on not, running for the phone to call the police.
She was sure that some days, her body ran solely on the coffee that she picked up on her way into work. It was a dependant relationship. She needed it often more than she needed the air around her. It was certainly cleaner than the atmosphere in the city. The air she breathed in was more likely to kill her than her addiction to caffeine.
Still, she pressed the heel of her palm into her eyes hoping to wake up a bit before she reached the counter to order enough caffeine to jolt an elephant awake. Nope. It was coffee or nothing for her nerves.
Kate gave her name to the barista after ordering the skinny vanilla latte, stepping back to lean against the wall with the rest of the commuters crowded into the Starbucks. She had her phone in her hand, smiling at the lock screen before typing in her password. Taken at a trip to her father's, Kate had discovered Al sleeping with Jim's new puppy curled around her daughter. The brown curls from Al's head blended with the brown spots on the English Springer Spaniel pup, the girl's bright blue eyes closed as she slept. Kate couldn't have resisted taking a picture of it, especially since Al and the dog, since named Sadie, had become fast friends. The photo behind the main screen was partially obscured by the orderly rows of apps but Kate still caught a glimpse of her daughter's beaming face from between the buttons for her e-mail and the weather. She tapped the former button lightly, scrolling down the new messages.
They ranged from reports from the medical examiner's office on current cases to a notice from Al's school about class photos next week. Kate marked the latter as important so the phone would remind her to find an outfit for Al just as the barista called her name, holding out the grande cup with a half-smile, barely making eye contact before she turned back to make the next drink in the line of cups.
Kate walked the rest of the way to the precinct since she had parked the car only a block from the building, the coffee burning her hand even through the cup and those cardboard rings designed to prevent such an event. She always laughed at the go-green quotes on them, refusing to remark on what a waste of perfectly good trees the rings were when they failed to do their one job.
She waved to the desk sergeant on her way to the stairs. She tried to make a conscious effort to take the stairs instead of the elevator though convenience usually had her pressing the button to call the lumbering car to her floor. The fact that she had gone with sneakers today instead of her heels gave her even less of an excuse. She passed the floors for Anti-Crime and Robbery, pulling the stairwell door open for Homicide while still managing to take another sip of the scalding liquid.
It was quiet. Quieter than usual. Their floor had almost constant movement as human beings always found new reasons and ways to kill one another, adding to the already lengthy list. One place where noise accompanied the action was a pair of desks near the edge of the bullpen. As she passed them, Kate snagged the baseball out of the air between the two men.
"Awww…" was joined by "Seriously, Beckett?"
She ignored both the verbal protests and puppy-dog eyes following her as she sat at her own desk. "Find something productive to do."
"Perfecting my underhand pitch is something to do." Esposito looked the most disappointed at her arrival and subsequent halting of his game of catch with Ryan. "How else am I going to successfully coach all of those girls on the youth softball team?"
"Oh, I don't know," Kate called out, placing the baseball on her desk, watching it roll to a stop at the base of a tri-fold picture frame propped against the monitor. "The same way you've taught the winning team for the past two years?"
Esposito was back to whining to Ryan about how unfair life was. Ryan looked mildly sympathetic, mostly pretending to listen as he nodded along. The photos on her desk weren't posed captures. Instead, someone had taken candids when the subjects hadn't been looking.
One from the hospital, Jim sitting on the edge of the bed, one arm around Kate's shoulders while the other was under his daughter's arm as she supported the newborn Alexandra. The middle one showed a larger group gathered around the coffee table in Kate's apartment. A cake was on the surface in front of Al as Kate held the two year old's hands as the girl blew out the candles on her birthday cake. The last was just Kate and Al. They were on the couch in the apartment, the girl sprawled out on Kate's chest. The photo managed to capture their grins and Kate knew that they had been in the middle of a tickle fight. She didn't often let her daughter win since the girl knew when her mother wasn't giving the battle her all, but that time, Kate had admitted defeat after Al had jumped and tackled Kate to the couch.
The phone rang as she tested the coffee's temperature again. It still scalded her mouth as she swallowed it. Those baristas needed to find a machine that cooled down that milk so the drinks would actually be able to be consumed after purchase. Kate hated having to wait forever to get her shot of caffeine because of the temperature.
"Beckett."
"Dispatch. Homicide at 518 East 12th Street."
Kate was writing the address on the pad of sticky notes on her desk, the phone cradled in the crook of her shoulder. "Info on the victim?"
"None. Your ETA?"
"Give me ten to fifteen. Thanks." She placed the phone back, standing as she waved the bright green piece of paper at the boys. "Come on, you two. Meet you at 518 East 12th."
Back down the stairs with her still hot coffee while Ryan and Esposito gathered their coats and keys to their car. The desk sergeant, an old ESU detective named Peters who traded in for an office job, raised a brow when she passed him again.
"Heading back out, Beckett?" Peters asked over the top of his novel.
She shrugged, risking her taste buds to take a sip of her coffee. "Looks that way." Kate paused, leaning on the desk and trying to peek at what he was reading. She saw the author before Peters jerked the book away from her. "That her new one? Any good?"
"Not bad. Getting a little sick of this whole tension between our two leads." He stuck his finger in the pages, holding his space as he sat forward. "Have you gotten around to reading it?"
Kate shook her head with a smile as she pushed back from his desk. "Seriously, Peters? I've got a girl in kindergarten. I'm lucky if I finish my reports on time. Tell me what you think of it when you're done, though. Might be able to sneak some time in to read while she's at school on my days off."
Peters told her that he would do just that as she headed back out onto the street. She jingled her keys in her pocket on the walk to her car, feeling the little keychain that Al had given her on her birthday rub against her knuckles. It was a miniature set of handcuffs and Kate had her suspicions that Ryan and Esposito had a hand in helping the five year old pick out the present. She had spent the morning pretending to cuff her daughter's fingers together with charges of being far too adorable for her own good before eating the dozen cupcakes they had made the previous evening by themselves.
The car was chilly in late November and Kate was quick to turn the heat on as high as it would go, pointing the vents at her face and hands. Gloves. Invest in some gloves, she thought as she pulled out into traffic. A taxi cab nearly clipped her bumper, then blared his horn at her, oblivious. Kate had expertly tilted her coffee cup so that none of the liquid splashed out as she had twisted the wheel to avoid the cab just as he ran the red light at the intersection. She was tempted to throw her lights on and pull the asshole over, but there was someone out there that needed her more than she wanted to ruin the driver's day.
Knowing that Broadway would be clogged with traffic thanks to the tourists and commuters, Kate went through backroads until she was able to pull onto FDR Drive and zip down the east coast of the island to the Lower East Side. She passed the United Nations with its lines of flags before Bellevue Hospital. Down Avenue C, over to East 14th so she could square the block and follow the one-way street of East 12th.
The lights of other cruisers flashed off the windows and reflective street signs even in daylight. She nosed in as close as possible, rubbing her hands one last time in front of the blasting heat before climbing out, dipping her hand into her pocket to release the keys and take her badge out. Kate clipped it onto the belt of her khaki jacket just as Esposito pulled his dark blue cruiser in behind Kate's. She waited, leaning against the hood of her car as the two men got out.
"Nice neighborhood," Ryan remarked as they started over toward the steps of the building.
Esposito reached the uniform at the door first and was giving their names and badge numbers but turned to respond. "Murderers don't discriminate, bro."
Each of them signed their name next to the uniform's neat printing before they were allowed to pass the threshold of the building with the directions to head up to the second floor, apartment D. They skirted around the crime scene technicians that were coming and going from the apartment.
The living room of the place was chaos juxtaposed against the pale blue and cream of the décor. A couple sat on the couch, the woman in the man's lap with her face pressed into his shoulder. He didn't look to be doing much better.
They passed the couple after telling one of the uniforms to let them know someone would be back to talk to them in a few minutes. The room with the most activity was halfway down the hallway, the door to the room painted a cheerful pink with white flowers handpainted on the wood. The color scheme followed inside the child's bedroom, from the walls to the bedspread that was crumpled on the ground next to the bed. Kate stepped around it as she circled the bed to stand next to Lanie.
"Who is she?" she asked, her eyes still stuck on the girl's body.
Lanie flipped up the pages on her clipboard, letting her hand brush Kate's arm, unspoken comfort between friends. "Molly Sergeant. Ten years old. Found by her mother when she didn't come out for breakfast before school."
Esposito shook his head. "Same M.O. as the others?"
"Yeah." The woman gave Kate a gentle tug to face the windows instead of the broken body on the bed. "There're signs of sexual assault, but I'll confirm that back at the morgue. Marks from strangulation, manual. This guy's a sicko, Beckett. He gets close at the end, able to watch the victims die."
Kate swallowed hard, nodding slowly as she focused on the skyline outside and not on the image of the girl. The third little girl taken from her family by this guy. Another family's life ruined. "Uh, Ryan, Esposito. You see what else you can find in the room," Kate said, turning to head back into the hallway. "I'll talk to the parents. Thanks, Lanie."
She took her notepad from her pocket, found a pen, and went into the tiny hallway to get back to the living room. Before she reached the living room, Kate took her phone out and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to remind herself that her own baby was still alive, probably coloring her another picture to put on the fridge with the rest of her artwork. Al was an artist in the making. She sighed, put the phone back in her pocket, and stepped into the living room.
"I'm Detective Kate Beckett," she said, holding a hand out to the man as she reached the couch. He carefully moved his arm from around his wife to shake.
"Brandon Sergeant. This is my wife, Nora." Nora didn't move and Kate wasn't sure the woman was even awake.
Kate perched on the edge of the oak coffee table. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs. Sergeant. I just have a few questions for you if you're up to talking."
Brandon nodded stiffly, lifting his hand to stroke Nora's hair. "Uh, sure. Yeah. We can do that. I mean, Nora might not talk. She's…"
"It's fine. Just trying to get started as soon as possible." She kept her eyes on Brandon as she spoke. "What time did you get up?"
"Nora would have been up around six. She calls into Molly's room as she goes by, as a warning. Molly usually has five minutes after that to get into the kitchen for breakfast or Nora will go back and shake her awake. I heard Nora tell Molly to get up, then she would have started getting breakfast ready."
Kate glanced over into the kitchen and saw the abandoned meal. A bowl of Frosted Flakes and apple juice was next to half-eaten oatmeal. Toast was in the toaster oven, the jar of raspberry jam next to a plate. A pot of coffee hadn't been touched.
"I got up around six oh-five, probably. I had to go to work early. I'm a legal assistant at a newspaper downtown and I have a deadline coming up," Brandon explained before continuing. "When Molly didn't come out for breakfast, Nora went to wake her up. I heard her scream and, oh God, I thought Molly was playing a practical joke on her mother."
"How's that?" Kate asked, writing down the basic timeline without looking at the notebook.
"Nora hates those goth things. Skulls, weird piercings, things like that. I thought maybe Molly had talked to her friend who owns a lot of that stuff and borrowed a shirt to scare her mother with. Oh God…" he muttered, turning his head to rest his cheek against Nora's. "Our baby girl…"
Kate closed her notebook, realizing that the man had reached his limit for the moment, but flipped to the back of the leather case for the little pocket and took out a business card. "Please, give me a call if you think of anything else, Mr. Sergeant. Someone from the Twelfth will be calling you to set up an interview. Once you feel better." She got up just as Ryan and Esposito came back into the living room. "Again, we're sorry for your loss."
The woman on Brandon's lap shifted her head and Kate heard a quiet, raspy "Thank you" before Kate stepped back to join her co-workers.
They waited until they were back out in the area outside of the apartment before they spoke.
"Find anything useful?" Kate asked, going down the stairs past one of the assistant medical examiners with the long stretcher.
"Not much. Crime scene said they'd take lifts of prints, but I suspect most of them will belong to the parents, the girl, and maybe some friends. They're going to call with results when they get them." Ryan closed his own notebook as they got to the street.
Esposito opened the car door, leaned on the top. "This sucks."
Kate had to agree. It sucked a whole lot. But she just unlocked her car and got in. "Then let's catch the bastard before he does this to another family."