"I see you've got quite a few complaints, Sara," the department psychologist started. "Mainly dealing with your behavior. Would you like to explain why these complaints were made?"
"I don't know," Sara shrugged. "They must have felt it was such a problem that it needed to be documented."
"Do you feel it was worth documenting?"
She rolled her eyes.
"If I say no, you'll think I'm deflecting and have a much greater problem than you anticipated. If I say yes, you'll write that I have self-esteem issues that lead to my inability to truly connect with the people I work with as boldly displayed as my poor behavior."
"I think you're deflecting no matter what you answer."
"We both know I'm here to talk about the shooting so why don't we drop the bullshit about all the issues I've been written up for in the past and actually discuss me killing someone."
"You're right. You killed someone. How does that make you feel?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
She nodded.
"I don't feel anything. I did my job and brought down a dangerous threat. He would've killed her if I hadn't shot him."
"For the record, the her you're referring to is...?"
"Catherine Willows," she said after she puffed out a sigh.
"Okay," he said as he nodded and jotted down a short note. "Would you say you felt you had no other choice but to shoot?"
"I told you he would've killed her. One second later and she wouldn't have made it to the hospital."
"So you were protecting her."
She shook her head and looked around the room.
"Yeah, I was protecting her," she confessed. "Anyone would've done it."
"The report says Captain Brass was standing next to you and he didn't pull the trigger."
She scoffed.
"If you're going to make this about some underlying explanation for why I'm aggressively protective, don't."
"I find it interesting you think I'm attacking you."
"Of course you find that interesting. All shrinks do."
"Do you feel threatened by my questions?"
"No," she raised her voice as she resorted to communicating through the use of staccato.
"You seem agitated."
"Ask me anything, but don't read into some psychobabble bullshit about what I'm saying compared to what I actually mean. I shot a man. It killed him. I'm not sorry I did pull the trigger. I don't spend my nights staying up thinking about the guy. I sleep just fine knowing he got what he deserved."
"What about your coworker? Catherine."
"What about her," she sighed as she tried to calm down.
"Do you sleep just fine, as you said, knowing she suffered through a brutal beating, left alone in the hands of a man who treated all his victims like disposable junk?"
She circled one thumb around the other as her hands rested in her lap.
"Sara?"
She avoided eye contact and clamped her jaw shut, tightened it.
"Does it bother you that she had to go through that," he persisted.
"What is this really about because you have me a little confused," she finally piped up.
"I want to know how you feel," he answered.
She shook her head and continued to avoid eye contact.
After a beat, the psychologist took a deep breath and broke the silence.
"Okay. We don't have to talk about all of this now. If you come back by the end of the week, we can get you back to work in no time."
He stood up and maneuvered his clipboard under his arm. Sara soon followed his lead and got to her feet.
They didn't say anything more to each other and walked out on a note of awkward silence, so many things left unspoken between them.
"Sara?"
She shook her head and turned to look at the person who had called her name.
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry, Greg. I've been spacey lately," she shrugged off the memory of her psych evaluation.
"Okay," he nodded though he only halfheartedly believed her. "Well, dinner's on me so...please eat light?"
She smiled.
"Don't worry," she chuckled. "I'll go easy on your wallet."
"Thank you," he whispered.
Sara laughed as a host appeared at the podium in front of them.
"Hello, Mr. Sanders?"
"Yes, hello," Greg smiled and nodded.
"Your table is ready."
"Thank you very much," he nervously stated as the host guided him and Sara into the restaurant dining room.
As Greg looked at the empty table the three of them approached, he clenched and unclenched his hands before wiped them on his black slacks and wet his lips.
"Your table," the host said as he extended his arm to showcase the intimate and intimidating table. "Here are your menus. Your server will be right with you."
Greg and Sara smiled and gave a single nod to the host as he politely smiled in response and walked back to the podium.
"I can't do this," Greg said as he spun on his heels and tried to follow the host away from the table.
Sara laughed again and stopped him before he could take a second step.
"Relax, Greg," she continued to smile.
With one hand on his chest and the other on his arm, she spun him back around and forced him into a chair. "You'll nail this."
"How do you know? This is the third time I've had to pitch the book to her!"
"Don't worry," she rubbed his arm as she took the seat next to him. "If it doesn't go well, I'm here. You still have me at the end of the day and I'm going to keep telling you the truth."
"Which is...?"
"Your book is going to get published, somehow, sometime."
"I want that time to be now. I've waited too long for this."
"Greg, Greg. I know you and I know how passionate you are about this so even if things don't turn out the way you hope today, you're not going to give up. You shouldn't give up."
He stayed quiet and left the two of them to listen to the clanking of the utensils and whispers of several conversations around them.
"Yeah...okay."
"Greg Sanders," a cheerful voice said from behind them.
They turned around and saw a smiling woman approach their table.
"I'm so glad to see you again. I hope you took my advice on the book."
"I did. Thank you," he started. "I just wish I didn't have to change so much."
"I know, but it's a cut throat business," she said as she took her seat. "And since you didn't experience any of this story first hand, it makes it harder to credit any of it and keep the material from being dry. Let me see what you have so far."
"Good evening," their waiter smiled as he stopped in front of the table. "What can I get you to drink?"
"Lemon water please," the publicist gave her order.
"A water is fine with me,"Greg said as he gently placed the manuscript on the table.
"Uh, I'll take a Sprite," Sara completed the drink order.
The waiter nodded and made his way to the kitchen.
"So how've you been since our last talk," Greg's publicist asked as she flipped through the manuscript.
"Fine. Overworked, but fine."
Sara smiled at him before she focused her attention on the publicist.
"Hopefully being overworked worked in your favor," she said with a hint of a smile and started to read an excerpt.
"I'm with you on that," he confessed.
Sara reached out and squeezed his knee under the table for support. They looked at each other and let the silence between them speak for itself.
"Well," the publicist piped up. "I'd say so far it has."
Greg's jaw slowly dropped until she looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back and took Sara's hand in his under the table.
When the doorbell rang, I didn't know what to expect partly because it seemed every time I answered the door, someone I didn't ever think would come over showed up, and partly because my daughter wanted to surprise me for dinner. I couldn't imagine what Lindsey had in store for me, but as I approached the door, I had this sickening feeling it wasn't something I'd enjoy.
I pulled open the door and saw Lou smile at me with a bouquet of roses in his hand.
"Hey," he greeted as he stepped forward and chastely kissed me.
"Hi," I forced a smile to be polite. "Is this my surprise?"
Lindsey walked out of the kitchen with a wide smile spread across her face.
"Part of it," she answered.
I felt my chest tighten as I lost the ability to breathe. I clenched and unclenched my fists to help me calm down, but it didn't work.
"I need some water," I said as I made a bee line to the kitchen.
"Are you okay," Lou asked as he followed me.
"Yeah," I tried to shrug it off before I tipped back a glass of cold water. "Just thirsty."
Lou raised an eyebrow.
"Is it me or do you say that a lot?"
"If I do, I apologize, but it's true," I lied.
"Okay," he let it go after a beat.
"Lou," Lindsey joined him and I in the kitchen. "You want to help me fix dinner while my mom rest in front of the TV?"
I rolled my eyes. Even though Lou's presence put me on edge, I still hated the idea of sitting on the couch for another minute more than having him around.
"Sure," Lou answered as he set the bouquet on the counter.
He looked at me by way of silently telling me he knew something was wrong, but he joined Lindsey all the same as the two of them headed to the back porch.
I sighed and leaned on the kitchen counter for necessary support. I took a moment to think and came to the conclusion that I needed a drink.
I spun on my heels and bent down before I pulled open a bottom cabinet. I reached back behind a blender and an old coffee machine and grabbed the neck of a friend I hadn't seen in a while.
I placed my friend, a bottle of whiskey, on the same counter I previously used for support. I retrieved a Scotch glass I hadn't used since I was seeing that construction worker over eight years ago, when Eddie was still alive.
I filled the glass and immediately tipped it back. I felt the amber colored liquid burn the back of my throat and squinted before I could smile. As I smiled, I lost sight of the present and delved into my repressed memories and feelings.
"Oh boy," I softly said to myself.
I filled the glass again and downed the entire drink in three seconds. The second time around, the whiskey burned even more. I felt my mind slipping into a dwelling state of depression. I knew drinking wasn't the answer to my problems, but I wished it would numb me. Instead, it heightened my problems and brought my pain to the surface. In fact, if someone scratched me, I would bleed anger and sorrow, everything connected to that one night.
I stared at the bottom of my glass and smelled the lingering scent of the whiskey. I remembered the way he smelled like a mixture of alcohol. The combination made him even more putrefying with his prickly beard, yellow teeth, blood shot eyes, twitchy hands, and chapped lips. It all flashed before my eyes and I felt nauseous.
I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut to calm my stomach. When I exhaled, I opened my eyes and felt a little better, but I knew it wouldn't last.
Then, as if on cue, my phone buzzed in my pocket and revealed that McQuaid was calling.
I rolled my eyes and answered.
"What is it?"
"I'm sorry. Is this a bad time?"
"Usually, it wouldn't be, but there's a lot going on right now," I tiredly said.
"Oh, do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Do you need to talk about it?"
"Probably...but I don't have time."
"Fair enough...but promise me you'll call me later so you can get it all off your chest, okay?"
I softly sighed as not to be rude, though I should've been more aggressive to push him away.
"I promise."
"Good. I guess I'll talk to you later then."
"Okay. Bye."
I hung up and gripped the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb. More than needing a drink, I needed a break.
Why couldn't I keep my libido in check, I internally whined.
"I'm going to use the ladies' room," the publicist smiled. "When I get back, I'd like to talk more about chapter seventeen."
She winked at Greg as she stood up and smiled at both of them before she turned toward the restroom.
Sara and Greg looked at each other and Sara smiled.
"See? I told you things will work out in their own time."
He smiled back.
"Thanks. I'm going to call Lily and let her know how it's going. She wants updates as soon as possible," he said as he stood, phone in hand.
"Catherine's mom Lily?"
"Yeah," Greg smiled. "She helped me with this book more than anything."
He started to head for the door.
Sara pursed her lips to minimize her smile, but it didn't help.
"Hey, Lily," she heard Greg exclaim as he moved further away from her.
She pulled out her phone to check the time and scrunched up her nose as she looked at the digital read out. She sighed before she opened the messaging menu on her phone and composed a new message.
"Linds," she started the text. "I'll be able to make it tonight, but I don't I know when I'll get there. If it's past nine, don't wait up. I'll see your mom in the morning if that's the case."
She sent the message and when she looked up, she spotted the publicist on her way back to the table.
"Where'd the author go," the publicist smiled and asked Sara.
"He stepped out to make a quick phone call," Sara explained.
"Oh, well I guess that leaves us time to talk," she continued to smile. "I don't know if Greg's told you, but I'm Kate Anderson."
She held out her hand and Sara shook it.
"I should have introduced myself earlier, but I'm usually pressed for time."
"I understand. It's okay."
"While we're here, why don't we talk a little about Greg," Kate suggested. "I know him through his writing, but how is he on a regular day?"
"What do you want me to tell you," Sara started. "He's a great guy. He'll have your back even if he doesn't know you'll have have his. He loves Vegas history and hasn't been able to get the idea of writing this book out of his head for the past four years. And the phone call he's making right now is to a woman that gave him her personal account of what happened in this book and yet, he considers her more of a friend than an informant."
"Wow. Sounds like a charmer," Kate lightly smiled.
Sara looked back at Greg as he continued to talk on the phone. He looked up and met her gaze seconds before she turned to face Kate again.
"He's one of the good ones," Sara smiled.
Kate smiled back.
"You sound found of him," she stated.
"I am. If I could've picked my brother when I was growing up, I would've picked him, which is why I'm here. This book means so much to him and I'd hate to see him leave empty handed tonight, but if the book deal isn't going to work out, the worst thing you can do is give him false hope."
Greg walked back in and slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Sorry. Lily was excited and had to hear everything verbatim."
Sara flashed her gap teeth as she smiled at Greg. As Greg took his seat, Kate cleared her throat and flipped through the manuscript again.
"As long as you hadn't run out on this dinner, it's okay. Now, chapter seventeen. There's a lot of good things to say about it as well as read in it. I'm happy to say this chapter alone could sell the book. But we've discussed the genre you'll be published under and I still think this book could use a little more voice. I know you weren't alive for most of the legends mentioned, but you're a humorous guy. Add a bit pf that humor and excitement to the stories each person mentioned in here has to be told. I will say this, though, the part about Mickey Dunn and Lois O'Neil were fantastic. The fact that the crime lab encountered them, especially in the manner they did, makes it even more entertaining."
Greg smiled.
"I'm glad you liked it," he said.
"Liked it is an understatement. In fact, saying I love it is an understatement. When you first showed me this book, it had a lot of potential. Now, it's almost ready to sell."
"Really?"
"Yes. It's going to be a long road ahead while I try and get this in circulation, but from what she's told me," Kate gestured to Sara. "I have no doubt you'll get through it."
She stood and extended her right hand. Greg held out his own and they shook on the next words Kate said.
"I'll call you to set up our next meeting," she smiled.
Sara smiled at Kate and the two shook hands as well.
"It was nice meeting you," Kate said.
"Likewise," Sara's smile widened.
"Greg, we'll talk," Kate said before she turned and left.
"Thanks," Greg said as she took off.
He then turned and widened his eyes as his jaw dropped.
"I'm on my way to being a published author," he exclaimed.
Sara smiled and nodded. The two of them gravitated toward each other and embraced.
"I'm happy for you," she said as she gave him a squeeze before she pulled away from the hug. "I'd stay and celebrate with you, but-"
"You were summoned to Catherine's. I know," he smiled. "Give her a hug for me?"
"Of course."
"Oh, and I'd be careful about spending too much time with her. The lab might start to talk," he winked.
She rolled her eyes with a light laugh. I'll keep that in mind," she sarcastically replied.
Greg grinned and waved goodbye.
"I'll see you later," he said.
"Yeah," she responded. "Hey, tell Lily hi for me."
He cocked his head with a small smirk and glimmer in his eyes that said, "Touche."
"No problem," he said.
"Good night, Greg."
"Goodnight, Sara."
Sara pulled out her phone and sent a new message to Lindsey.
"On my way," it read.
Within two minutes, Lindsey responded.
"Great. Hopefully, my mom will feel better with you here."
After a near thirty minute drive across town, Sara pulled up to the curb outside Catherine's place with a strange feeling in her gut. She took a deep breath and released it in a sigh before she cut the engine.
When she rang the doorbell, there was a silence in the moments to follow as she waited for someone to answer. It was a silence she hadn't expected, a silence that made her doubt her decision to be a part of Lindsey's plan.
The door opened and after a second, Lindsey popped out from behind it.
"Hey," Lindsey smiled. "I hope you don't mind, but I think my mom's getting hungry and we just pulled the steak off the grill. I thought if you were going to run late that maybe us meat eaters could enjoy our food before we all sat and ate with you."
"It's fine, Linds," she politely smiled back as she stepped inside. "Wait. All?"
Lindsey walked into the living room as Sara shut the door and followed her before receiving an answer.
"Mom," Lindsey said as she approached the couch.
Catherine turned to look at Lindsey and, upon seeing Sara, nearly lost her eyes as they attempted to jump out of their sockets and flee.
"Lindsey, how long did you want us to wait before serving dinner," Lou said as he joined everyone in the living room. "Oh. Hi, Sara."
"Hi," Sara nervously greeted with a small wave.
"You invited Sara and you made steak," I furiously asked Lindsey in the kitchen as I made Sara and Lou wait in the living room.
Lindsey rolled her eyes.
"I checked with her before she came here and I even asked her about her favorite meal, which I also prepared. I've got it covered. Steak isn't the only thing on the menu," Lindsey explained.
I sighed.
"Fine, but enough surprises, okay?"
"Promise. This is the last one," she said.
"Okay," I whispered out of thankfulness before I headed back into the living room. "Let's eat."
Before I turned toward the dinning room table, I looked at Sara who squinted at me almost out of speculation.
I awkwardly spun around and took my seat at the head of the table. Lindsey brought out the plate of steak and Lou helped her as he fetched the meat-free portion of dinner. He set it on the table, away from the meat, and smiled at Sara as he seated himself at the opposite end of the table from me.
For the entire meal, a tense and awkward silence filled the air. I could barely muster up the courage to look at Lou. Sara and I had a small, non-verbal conversation as we attempted to avoid eye contact and I could tell the dinner greatly disappointed Lindsey.
Instead of enduring any more of the non-existent interaction between us four, I took it upon myself to clean the dishes.
Lindsey handed me her plate with a frown as she stared down at the sink.
I sighed.
"I'm sorry this isn't going the way you expected, Linds."
"I thought this would make you feel better and maybe I could get something nice out of it in return. Nothing big. Just a good feeling. Maybe even a little relief."
I frowned and set aside the dishes to give her a hug.
"Oh, Lindsey. I'm sorry. Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine."
"But you're not. I wouldn't worry about you except you're not as talkative and smiley as you used to be. I know the healing process takes a while and people react to certain things differently, but I want to know when I'm going to get my old mom back."
Lindsey pulled out of the hug and looked at me with tear filled eyes for a moment before she walked away.
"Lindsey," I weakly called after her with a heart full of worry to match the glass full of vodka next to me on the counter.
I sighed and shook my head before I grabbed a plate out of frustration and started to scrub it clean of even the micro-bits of bacteria that could've crawled all over it.
After a few seconds, I heard Sara's soothing voice from the dinning room.
"It's okay. Your mom's okay," I heard Sara say.
"She's not. I know everyone wants me to think that, but she's different," I heard Lindsey reply.
"Listen to me," Sara started as I laid the plate on top of the others in the sink and listened closely. "Just because she's different doesn't mean anything's wrong. Think of it as her losing her footing while she's coming down from a mountain, trying to find the ground again. She's been through a lot and I'm not just talking about the abduction."
"I know," Lindsey softly said.
"She'll be okay, Linds. Give it time. She doesn't mean to make you upset."
"I know that too," Lindsey said.
I walked away from the sink and closer to the two of them. I peeked through the kitchen door frame and saw Lindsey hug Sara.
"Don't worry," Sara said as she gently squeezed Lindsey in her arms.
"I can't promise that," she said as she buried her face into Sara's neck.
Sara rubbed Lindsey's back and I watched my daughter's shoulders drop as she started to relax.
"I know your mom will work it out," Sara said. "She always does."
Sara gave Lindsey one last rub and the two broke apart. I backed away from the door frame and hid in the kitchen as I went back to washing the dishes.
"What'cha drinking," Sara asked as she made her way toward me.
I looked at her and noted the smirk spread across her face.
"Vodka," I flatly answered as I looked back at the dish in my hand.
"Is there anything I can help with?"
"Look, I know you think I still have some issues to work out, but I'm fine."
"I don't think that," she calmly said.
"Really," I asked as I let go of the dish and stared at her with a disbelieving expression.
"Okay, so I think there are a few things you're not dealing with, but I'm not going to force you to deal with them. You'll get there."
"When," I stated rather than asked.
"Eventually you'll get there. Only you can decide how soon you do."
I sighed and rolled my eyes.
"God, Sara. Enough of this crap. I'm tired of hearing that I'm not read. I'm not okay, I can't go back to work, I can't feel any better than I do right now, which is a new low for me. I'm tired of sitting around pretending everything is back to normal when no one else wants to shut up about my abduction!"
"Okay," she said as she shrugged and stuffed her hands in her pockets.
"That's it? Okay? That's all you're going to say to me?"
"What else do you want me to say, Catherine," she calmly asked. "Tell me what you want."
I stared directly into her eyes and couldn't seem to vocalize what I wanted. So I leaned in and kissed her.
Our lips molded together like drying clay and she pulled her hands out of her pockets and held them up at her sides as though it was a stick up. I tucked my hand into the waistline of her jeans and tugged them down about an inch.
I slipped my tongue into her mouth and high fived it with mine. Suddenly, her timid tongue wanted to wrestle like a pro and the sensation of her hands slowly coming to rest on my biceps caused my nether region to tingle. I pulled her pants in my direction and pressed her body against mine. I flicked her tongue with mine and used that as my exit strategy as I arched my back and broke the kiss.
When I opened my eyes, the two of us were breathless while her chocolate colored eyes stared into my eyes. I loosened my grip on her jeans as I came back to reality, her kiss equivalent to living on cloud nine. She let go of my arms and took a deep breath as she packed her hands into her back pockets.
"I should go," she said as she furrowed her brow. "I'll see you later."
She gave a single nod before she spun on her heels and headed out of the kitchen. She turned toward the front door and I couldn't help but follow her out.
She removed her hands from her pockets as Lou rounded the corner and smiled at her. I watched from the kitchen door frame as he spoke to her.
"Hey. Leaving so soon," he asked.
"Yeah, I just...remembered that I...left the oven on at my apartment," she awkwardly answered with a lie.
"Oh, wow. You need a police escort or something? Firefighters or...?"
"No. Thanks. It should be fine. See ya."
She walked out and hurried to her car. After she started it, she turned and looked at the house one more time. She saw me and, as we locked eyes, I swear she gulped before she looked straight ahead and sped off.
Crap.
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I'm happy to get this update out. :) Hopefully you're all happy to see it up too. Let me know what you think and write a review!