Sam parked the SUV and left it running. He unbuckled his seatbelt and then reached into the middle console, "Here, take this," he said turning to Stella, "It's my extra side piece. You can use it 'til we issue you your own." He didn't want Stella left without the ability to defend herself and he was already starting to feel protective of her. His protectiveness, while altruistic, was probably unjustified; he decided to keep his feelings to himself.
He was getting a lot of senses from Stella and needing to be protected by him was not one of them. Of course he'd spent enough time in mandatory therapy to know that what we fight off the most is usually what we need the most. Either way, he needed her to be fully equipped to protect herself if anything was to happen.
Sam handed Stella the gun and watched her as she adjusted her hand to the weight. She looked over at him, her blue eyes focused on his face. "Thank you, I very rarely carry one, but I'm fully confident in my ability to use it."
Sam chuckled, "I wouldn't have expected otherwise, DS Gibson."
Stella tilted her chin up, a faint smile across her face, "No, I suppose you wouldn't."
He held her gaze for a brief moment before clearing his throat, "I think I have an extra hip holster in the back. Let me grab it while you review the crime scene photos." He leaned to the right bringing himself within close proximity to Stella, her scent briefly lingering at his nostrils. Reaching his arm to the backseat, he grabbed the small tablet lying in the middle.
"Here, let me pull the photos up for you." He rested the tablet on the front display mount. While they waited for the pictures to load, Sam briefed her on the area and the circumstances surrounding the scene of the crime.
"The body was found just over that ridge," pointing to the left of where they had parked the SUV. "We'll have to walk a little," he continued. "A hiker and his very curious dog discovered the body."
Sam swiveled the mount with the tablet attached to face Stella. Then he quickly called their location into the station using the CB radio mounted under the dash and stepped out of the car taking his suit jacket off and throwing it in the back. Meanwhile, Stella moved her attention to the tablet and the visual evidence it held.
Sam walked around to the back of the SUV, wiping his brow. It was hot, a recent heat wave had plagued the area which made it feel like the sun was sitting on top of him. He wondered how Stella would do in the heat and after he grabbed his extra harness he pulled two bottle waters out of a small cooler he kept with him at all times, for moments just like this.
While Sam was at the back of the vehicle Stella swiped the tablet screen to view the crime scene photos, one by one. The body was of a young woman. The pebbles deep set in the eyes and the ligature marks around her neck all matched the perps MO. She was confident this was her guy, the similarities were uncanny.
She turned around and saw Sam closing the back of the SUV, Stella leaned over to the steering wheel and turned the keys in the ignition to off. She opened the car door and was instantly greeted with a puff of hot stale air. The change in temperature from the air conditioned car to outside made her cheeks instantly flush from the heat.
Taking a cue from Sam, she shedded her suit blazer as well and tossed it next to his in the back. She grabbed the tablet and pushed the firearm into the back waist edge of her fitted pencil skirt then shut the car door and made her way to the back of the vehicle to meet Sam.
"Here, drink this. You'll need it." Sam said, handing her one of the bottled waters he fished out of the cooler.
"Thank you. Bloody hell, it's hot." She said taking the water with her only free hand then turning her back to him, she motioned with her head toward the gun she jury-rigged to her waist. Sam grabbed the gun and placed it into the holster he had fetched for her. She was impressed that he knew what she needed him to do without her saying a word. Her Yankee counterpart was turning out to be a pretty decent partner so far. So far, she thought.
"I gotcha," Sam said as he worked at her waist. Stella raised her right arm ever so slightly to allow him access to her hip and as he fidgeted with the harness, she couldn't help but notice her body's reaction to his closeness and the brief graze of his knuckles to her waist as he'd adjusted the clip. "There ya go, you should be all set." He said as he finished.
"Dial it back Stella," she meant to keep it in her head but the words had seeped out in a whisper. If Sam had heard, he didn't let on– which was fine by her. When he was done she took a swig from the water bottle he handed her, slightly taken aback at just how thirsty she really was.
"Hold this," she said as she gave Sam the tablet, "I want to bring it with us in order to compare the area now with the photos initially taken at the scene." Stella walked back to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, she reached into her holdall and pulled out a pair of trainers. She hoisted herself up onto the seat and proceeded to take her heels off and replace them with the more practical comfortable shoe. She prided herself on being prepared.
Sam walked over just in time to see Stella's footwear swap. "Here," he said and offered her his thigh, smacking it as he did. She obliged and placed her foot on his mid thigh and leaned slightly over to tie her shoe. Sam briefly noticed her skirt slide up her own toned thigh before he averted his eyes up.
"Smart wardrobe adjustment," he said, as she switched legs.
Yes, he had reverted to small talk to keep his mind off the tiny sample of leg he had the pleasure of seeing, if only for a brief moment.
Earlier he had heard her barely audible declaration to 'dial it back' and he wondered if it was a reference toward him. Trusting his gut, he chose not to respond, acting like he hadn't heard it–but it was something he was curiously bouncing around in the back of his mind.
Pulling him back from his thoughts, Stella responded, "Well then Yank, you are an observant one."
She dropped her leg from his thigh and stood to adjust her skirt. There was already a height disparity between the two of them, but now without her heels on, Sam noticed a considerable difference in her statue.
How tall were those heels anyway, he thought to himself. She was close now and he shifted his weight back to give her space.
"Yank, hmm. I've been called a lot of names," He continued as he moved to the side, placing his hand on the top corner of the open passenger door, "But that's a first, for sure."
"Well then, you can add it to your list." Stella said teasingly and walked forward, giving him space to swing the car door shut.
Sam tilted his head up and laughed, "Ah, it seems only fair I return the favor," placing his free hand at the bottom of his chin mimicking a thinking gesture.
Stella turned and shot him a don't you dare look.
"No? " Sam said with a slightly higher tone in his voice, shutting the door and walking backward toward the front of the SUV.
A commanding, "No," escaped from her mouth.
His hands up in surrender, he turned around and made his way around the front of the vehicle; waiting for her to follow. And Sam knew at that point he was Yank and she would only be DS Stella Gibson.
She needed to gather her wits about her. Sam was distracting to say the least. He was positively fit, tall in stature with square shoulders and a handsome face. His witty but down-to-earth personality had put her at ease quickly. He was certainly funny but in a dry sarcastic way, which she found refreshing; and she needed refreshing, it had been a hard couple of years.
She followed Sam to the scene of the crime. It was a small trek and Stella was thankful it wasn't any longer. He still had the tablet in his hand and in the other he had a bottle of water that he would take sips from as they walked.
They were both quiet as they navigated through the thick brush. They had quickly morphed into detective mode as the two of them moved in tandem up the small hill, however eventually Sam's longer strides created considerable distance between Stella and him as they made their way down the drop.
Concentrating on the terrain, Stella looked up momentarily to see Sam had stopped at the bottom, briefly looking over his shoulder to check on her, and she nodded in response. Any other male colleague, she would have inwardly balked at the presumption she couldn't handle a small hill. But something about Sam's demeanor disarmed her. She continued to watch him as he led the way to the crime scene-there was an easy way about him- like an athlete playing a sport. His eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses but she had already noticed the cool hazel color when she had first met him in the airport.
He didn't seem threatened by her, most male colleagues either wanted to fuck her or punch her, or both; a symptom of their own male inadequacies—Sam, she concluded, didn't fit into either category—which made her a bit uneasy. She couldn't pigeon-hole him.
He was different.
Sam stopped and Stella caught up, standing next to him as she did. He silently handed her the tablet. He didn't need to see the photos, he had them memorized, the scene was seared into his brain, all of them were. He bent down touching the earth, then pointed forward.
"Over there is where we found her— the victim, 26 year old Kaitlyn Myers," he continued, visually indicating the areas as he spoke, "Her head was flush against the ridge, almost as if it were a headboard. There and over there," pointing opposite of the body, "are where the tire tracks were discovered and Kaitlyn's personal items were found."
Sam finished and stood, hands on his hips. Thinking, playing the scenario over and over again, lost in his mind.
Stella placed her hand on his forearm and spoke, "Let's walk it then, shall we Detective?" Her touch brought Sam back into the present, grounding him in the here and now.
They walked the area carefully, Stella held the tablet, occasionally stopping to study the then and now juxtaposition between photo and real-life.
"These—" she pointed to the tire tracks in the photos, "would have been here then?" She signaled with her head at the place just yards in front of her.
Sam nodded and hummed in agreement.
"Do we have the forensics back on the tire tracks?"
"Yes, the tire is pretty common but it's more common on late model trucks."
"It must be how he transports the bodies." Stella said, still staring at the photo, moving it farther from her sight to compare.
"Odd that the tracks are here and not up top where we parked?"
"Yeah," Sam turned and pointed behind them, "looks like the killer went off the dirt road a way back—then turned—up around there," pointing past a small flat surface. Sam continued, "Luckily for us, we could assume he needed some kind of four-wheel drive."
Stella agreed. "Hmm, yes, it narrows the search a bit."
Time passed by quickly as both seasoned detectives continued to scope the area, exchanging ideas and observations as they went. "You ready Gibson?" Sam said walking toward the small hill they had walked down earlier. She only nodded in response and they both started back to the vehicle.
"Let's get you checked into your hotel, then maybe a bite to eat after?" Sam said as they both climbed into the SUV.
Stella responded, "Sounds good. We can review my notes and yours as we eat."
As Sam started the vehicle and drove toward Stella's hotel. Both the detectives were happy to be back in the air conditioned SUV. The car ride was quiet. Neither one was aware that their thoughts, while independent of each other, were simultaneously focused like a laser beam on catching the killer.
Sam pulled his unmarked police SUV to the front side of the Hilton Checkers Hotel. The hotel was built in 1927 and had been recently restored by Hilton. Its ornate architecture on the outside was only a fractional representation of what was on the inside. He put the car in park and rolled the window down waiting for the valet attendant.
Turning to Stella, "I know the manager, I'm gonna see if I can get us a table for dinner tonight."
Stella smiled, her jet lag and adrenaline induced state was starting to catch up to her. She needed to eat and a stiff drink wouldn't be half bad either.
"Well Detective Hodiak, you certainly do get around." Stella exited the vehicle and gathered her things: her jacket from the back and her large overnight bag from the front floorboard, "I will meet you downstairs in, let's say…" she looked down at her watch, "forty minutes?"
"Sounds good," Sam replied.
Stella walked toward the entrance, disappearing into the double grand doors of the hotel.
The valet attendant stepped up to Sam's window and Sam flashed his badge with a smile.
"Just for the next couple of hours."
The attendant nodded, recognizing Sam. He smiled at the badge. "Sure thing Detective, you always have a spot waiting for you."
Sam exited the car, smiled at the attendant and thanked him. He made his way through the entrance of the hotel and stopped at the front desk. A friendly looking man, with a name badge of Tom, greeted him as he approached the counter.
"Hello sir, welcome to the Hilton Checkers Hotel."
Sam flashed a tired smile and his credentials "How you doing, is Phil around? I'd like to talk to him."
Phil was the hotel manager. He had helped Sam in the past with various cases and they quickly developed a friendly working relationship.
Tom, with a slight worried face, replied, "Yes sir, let me call him for you." Sam nodded and fidgeted with the counter as Tom picked up the phone and pushed a set of numbers.
"Hi, yes sir, a Detective Hodiak is here to see you. Yes sir. Will do." Tom, hanging up the phone, turned to Sam, "He will be right down, if you'd like, you are welcome to take a seat in our lounge area."
Sam lightly fist pumped the counter, "Thanks." he said with a smirk, to the clearly nervous Tom, and walked over to the seating area to wait for his friend.
In the hotel room, Stella unpacked her toiletries, freshened up and placed all the items she had with her in their rightful place. She wanted to charge her laptop while she had dinner with Sam with the aim that it would be ready for her to use once she was done eating.
She called the concierge and arranged for a shopping service. She gave him her sizes, what she needed in attire and when she needed it. "Please have them delivered to my room by tomorrow before noon." She let the man on the other end of the phone know. She'd make do with what was in her overnight bag till then.
Her mind was running through the day's events. She'd been so close to solving the case, and then nothing. And now she was in Los Angeles and the opportunity to catch the killer was at her fingertips. She turned her attention to the company she kept all day. The way Sam spoke about the case led her to believe he was a good and thorough detective. If anything, Sam was tormented as much as she was by the idea that the killer continued to elude them.
I rather liked the Yank, Stella thought. Maybe, she continued to herself, as if she needed convincing; maybe he was trustworthy.
She huffed out a small laugh at the thought of her being so easily smitten by Sam.
Now speaking out loud, "Let's not go there, Stella."
Shaking her head, she snapped her thoughts back from Sam, she decided to concentrate on the task at hand. She needed her room situated so she could easily and efficiently work after dinner.
There would be no rest for her until she caught the killer.
"Sam!" The hotel manager, Phil, shouted as he came from behind an 'employee entrance only' door to the left of the guest check in counter. Sam turned around to see his friend walking toward him, arms outstretched.
"Phil, good to see you buddy," Sam said as the shorter and much rounder man hugged him in greeting.
"I think you gave ol' Tom a scare Detective." Phil chuckled as he spoke, "What can I help you with, friend?"
"Yeah, sorry about that, work hazard I guess." Sam replied, shrugging his shoulders.
Both men took a respective seat across from one another in the seating area of the hotel lounge. Knowing his friend was a busy man, Sam went straight to the point of his visit, "I have two favors to ask. The first one, a very special guest is staying here. She's working a case with me..." Sam cleared his throat mid-sentence, "actually, I'm working a case with her. It was hers before it was mine."
Phil looked puzzled, but Sam continued, ignoring his friend's confused gaze, "She's from the UK, that's all I can really share."
Phil piped in, waving his hand in an affirmative manner, "Say no more, I will personally see that she is attended to and taken care of. What's the second favor?"
Sam chuckled, sheepishly, "We are starving, can you find us a table for dinner?"
Phil laughed loudly at his friend's question, "Done. And on the house, I might add…" Sam started to protest at the offer of a free dinner but Phil cut him off.
"No arguments, it's on us. As soon as your...uh.."
"DS Gibson, Stella Gibson." Sam said, filling in the gap for Phil.
"… DS Gibson gets here, I will take you both to the best table in the house."
As if on cue, Stella stepped out of the elevator. She spotted Sam sitting in the lobby lounge speaking to a short portly gentleman, and made her way over to both of them. "Hello then," she said and both men stood at her arrival.
"Phil, this is DS Gibson. She's the one I was telling you about."
Stella shot an inquisitive glance at Sam. "Whatever it was he said, remember we only just met." Stella said dryly, reaching her hand to meet Phil's.
"He didn't say much I'm afraid, but any friend of Sam is a friend of mine." Phil said.
Sam smiled at Phil then back at Stella, she held his eyes briefly before she looked away, bringing her attention back to Phil.
"Well then, thank you. And I think that says more about Sam than it does me."
Phil pondered for a moment, "Well ma'am, I guess you're right." He patted his friend on the back after he released his hand from Stella's shake. "Why don't you two follow me to the restaurant, I know just the table."
Phil led them to a remote booth in the back of the restaurant. "Here you go," he said, gesturing to the booth. "This way you can talk in private. I have a feeling you both have a lot to talk about."
Stella spoke first, "Thank you Phil, this is lovely."
Sam chimed in, echoing Stella's sentiment. "Yes, thank you Phil, this is perfect."
Stella and Sam took their corresponding seats opposite from each other in the booth.
"On the house, enjoy. And Detective Gibson, from now on every meal you eat here will be on the house."
"That is rather kind of you Phil. Thank you very much."
"Don't mention it, ma'am," Phil said, then turning to Sam, he finished his goodbye, "See you later buddy. Have a good night."
Sam nodded and thanked his friend again. As Phil turned around to leave he motioned a server over and pointed to the booth.
"I'm famished," Stella said as she picked up the menu lying on the table. She glanced in Sam's direction and he smiled at her. Stella continued talking to him as she scanned the menu, "Well then yank, even detectives need to eat. What's good here anyway?"
Sam sighed, and responded, "I usually just order the steak." Keeping her eyes on the menu, a small smile creeped at the corners of Stella's mouth.
Sam continued, "I know what you're thinking, manly men eat steak, but really, I just like steak." Stella's smile grew at his playfulness.
"However, I'm not afraid to pair it with a nice Caesar salad, hey don't judge me Gibson."
"Which part should I not judge, the steak or the salad?"
"Fair enough."
"The chicken penne sounds delightful." Stella said as she put the menu down, crossing her arms and smiling at her new partner.