The Rookie
Disclaimer: Don't own Victorious
Chapter 4 (The Partner)
"We've got a call about a body off Marina Fwy near South Los Angeles." Trina handed Beck a radio and her sharp gaze sank into his. Every time, no matter when it was, he always felt like she was judging him each time she looked at him. "I'm going to let you take the lead on this, do you think you can handle it?"
Astonished, Beck took the radio and waited as Trina turned and headed for the door. If she expected him to answer, she certainly wasn't waiting around for conversation. "Are you sure?" He started after her, following her to the patrol car. "You're usually in charge."
"I'm still in charge." She held the station door open, staring at him with a half-lidded expression. "Still, you've been dragging your feet long enough and need to step it up. Otherwise the wolves will devour you whole, and make no mistake, I'll take the first bite." Beck flinched and walked past her, still feeling her icy glare on the back of his head. "You're driving."
"Jesus, why do you still hate me?" Beck entered the driver's side of the car and fastened his belt. Trina slammed the passenger door shut as she entered and took her seat.
"Save that for your therapist, Oliver. I don't hate you, but you're unproven and haven't earned an ounce of respect yet. The people at the station are still going on about how you got sick over being covered in bait, it's not pretty." As he started the vehicle, Trina slipped on a pair of sunglasses. He always wondered about the shades she wore, and how much they covered up any hint of emotion in her eyes. Truly, if she had ever been as readable as she'd been in high school, those days were dead and gone.
Beck shifted the gear into drive and rolled his eyes, muttering as he pressed the gas down. "That's their problem then." Glancing to the side, he saw a hint of a smirk on Trina's face. He would've smiled himself at that, since it was one of those rare glimpses of emotion the woman could convey. "Marina freeway?"
"Yes."
Traffic was hell in the middle of the afternoon, but flipping on the sirens certainly aided in getting to the location as fast as they could. When they arrived they found a scene not unlike what Beck had witnessed before, a body laying in a field surrounded by some trees.
Only this time it was a woman, from what Beck could tell she was young. Her blonde hair was cut short and unkempt, it bore dark red highlights. She had a deep tan, and emerald green eyes that stared lifelessly at the blue sky above.
Beck knelt beside the woman, his heart sinking as he studied the corpse. Part of him wanted to throw up, something that truly would never leave or get easier. Pointing a gloved hand to the woman's throat, eyeing ligature marks, it was easy to surmise a cause of death. "Strangulation."
Looking down the corpse, his blood ran cold. The woman wore a red halter top dress that was bunched up and pushed to her stomach, her legs were bare and pink underwear clung to her ankles.
"Shit, why this?" Wondering why Trina was so quiet, he looked up to see the woman gazing at the body with clenched teeth and balled up fists.
"Sexual assault, the worst crimes in my book." She turned her head away, a subtle growl escaped her lips. "They never change. If I had it my way, I'd bash the rapist's skull in and beat them into a bloody unrecognizable pulp."
"Yeah, well." He pushed himself to his feet with a heavy sigh. He sympathized with the sentiment, as part of him would love to do the same to those types of people. "That's what the justice system is for, right?"
"Sure." She crossed her arms over her stomach and lowered her head a bit, glaring over the rims of her shades. "They get less than half the time a murderer gets. It is what it is, call it in. Let's get forensics out here."
"Right."
Without in an hour they had identification, much to Beck's great joy because he didn't think he spotted any. Forensics found a purple handbag nearby with a jewel encrusted strap, inside was an ID matching the victim.
"Renee Jacoby." Beck studied a manilla folder on the table at the office, his right hand gripped a coffee mug and he shifted in the black pleather chair. Trina stood nearby, her police jacket removed and her gun belt exposed. Her hands were at her waist and her head was turned sideways, gaze fixated on the paperwork. Beck lifted a sheet of paper with the victim's image. "Twenty-seven years old and works at Princeton Jewelry shop in Downtown LA."
"Any next of kin?"
"Looks like she lives out in Del Rey off Admiral Avenue." He furrowed his brow. "Not far from the middle school there. Seems she's living with her grandmother, no other family." As if on cue from the mention, Andre flashed into Beck's mind and he felt a tinge of pain.
Andre's grandmother hadn't survived long after he died, the poor woman had no other relatives to take care of her and was forced to move into a nursing home within the year. Beck tried to visit her as much as he could; but unfortunately she broke her hip in the nursing home bathtub within a year of staying and never recovered.
"God, I hate to think that poor woman might be thrust into a nursing facility or something because of this." Trina started to hum, tilting her head gently to the left. Beck's fingertips creased the paper as he started to lower it back to the table. "I just remember when Andre's grandmother had to go to one of those shitholes, she didn't live long."
"Nursing facilities aren't exactly known for quality care." Trina shrugged, her tone was devoid of emotion. The woman folded her arms across her chest and a quiet scoff escaped her lips. "I remember one of my earlier cases, turned out one of the nurses at some facility was claiming 'assisted suicide' and poisoning her residents. Residents that had no terminal medical conditions, nor any will to die…Her last mistake was killing an elderly woman whose grandson checked in on her daily."
"What a slipup."
"I'll say, until that she'd been picking residents that didn't have relatives checking diligently." Trina raised a hand, circling it in the air. "Let's focus our attention here on Miss Jacoby. We'll have to notify the grandmother."
"Should we head out now, then?"
"Yes."
While driving, Beck felt like making conversation as he hated the ever frequent silent drives they would have. He was genuinely curious about at least trying to get to know his work partner, even if Trina never was much for talking about herself. "You know, I always wonder why it is you never moved to Texas. I thought you found some guy you were going to settle down with."
Trina remained still in the passenger seat, her elbow on the windowsill and her hand served as a perch for the side of her head, with her fingertips sliding in and out of her hair at a slow pace.
"That didn't pan out, obviously." He detected a hint of bitterness in her tone, but also sensed he wasn't going to get very much farther in terms of her living arrangements.
"Yeah, I always figured it had more to do with your dad and possibly trying to find your sister."
"Sure. Is this conversation going anywhere, Oliver?" Trina arched an eyebrow and turned her head slightly to him. "Are you anticipating a heart to heart?"
"Not particularly. I just thought I'd fill the silence. I was curious because I remember when you used to be so upbeat and-"
"Things change, Oliver. Life and shit happens, as I'm sure you are acutely aware." He felt a thickness spreading up his chest and into his throat, and while he wanted to interject and comment more, he thought better of it. "You lost your friends and I lost a sister."
Slicking the tip of his tongue across his lips, he peered in the direction of the home of the crime victim's grandmother. "You don't imagine there's answers out there? Whoever's responsible."
"Whoever is responsible is still out there, yes." Trina rolled her head against the car window and shut her eyes, her forehead creasing. "Now please, let's focus on our current task at hand."
"Understood," he said as he pulled his car alongside the curb. Peering at the yellow brick home, he saw an old woman standing on her porch, newspaper in hand. She had curly grey hair and thin glasses resting upon a round, wrinkled face. As they exited the car, the woman's high pitched and panic tone filled their ears.
"Officers, have you heard from my sweet Renee?" The woman grabbed a walking cane and slowly made her way to them, meeting them halfway down the sidewalk. "I haven't seen my granddaughter and she always lets me know where she's at!"
Beck's heart broke for her as he saw Andre's grandmother in the woman, and how broken she was. He wanted to break the news gently to the woman, but knew from experience with victim notifications that Trina was more blunt and to the point; so rather than let her have the first word, he took his police cap in hand and stepped forward.
"Ma'am, that is what we are here for." He frowned as he saw a flicker of recognition in the woman's hazy gaze. Seeing the line of red, he figured she may have already been crying. "I'm sorry, but your granddaughter was found today…"
The woman cupped a hand over her mouth, weeping into the palm of her hand. Beck stretched a hand out, setting it gently on the woman's shoulder. "I know this is hard to deal with, but we need to ask a few questions."
Trina swayed to the right, looking up and off to the side. She let out a weary sigh and folded her arms across her chest. "Beck," she whispered, "This is not your friend's grandmother. She just lost her granddaughter, but we need to give her closure by getting to the bottom of this."
Ignoring his partner, he explained the situation and proceeded to give the elder a card for the station's victim advocate. The woman held the card gingerly and slowly bowed her head. "H-How was she found?"
"Unfortunately we can't disclose that information at the time," Beck replied. It wasn't likely this woman would want to know either, but in time she may learn the details. "Do you know if Miss Jacoby had anyone that might want to cause her harm in any way?"
The elder shook her head. Not a surprising response. After a second of silence, she finally spoke up. "I know she had a few arguments with her boss at work." She leaned forward and crinkled her nose. "He accused her of theft, and I think she was trying to find out who actually was; because I know my granddaughter, she was no thief."
It was good information, and if cases were so simple then the victim's boss just rose to the top of the prime suspects list; but even being new to the force, Beck knew there might be more to the case than that.
They would have to talk to the boss of the jewelry store tomorrow as the shift was coming to an end. Once back at the station, Beck received a brief nod of approval from Trina. "Got some good information today. I know you want to be soft when handling victims of the family, you can't always do that. You don't want to let personal feelings cloud your judgment."
"I get it, but the woman did just lose her granddaughter."
"Sweet old woman could also have a hand in her granddaughter's death." He furrowed his brow as Trina shrugged. "I don't think it's so likely in this case, but you need to remember that family members do also commit murder and if you treat them all with kid gloves you'll easily let them fly under the radar."
He had to admit that she had a point, and likely had a few cases where a doting family member was in fact the perpetrator. "So going forward, I'll take your advice in stock." Trina flashed him a smile and hung her police jacket in her locker.
"Good, you listen to advice. Is it just me or are you showing potential, Oliver?"
"You know my name."
"We're not on that level yet." She closed the locker door and cooly turned to leave the room. He watched her with a heavy sigh and started to put his equipment up into his locker.
Taking a minute to process the notes accumulated through the day, he shut his notebook and left the locker room. Down the hallway were the evidence lockers, his lips pressed firmly together and his brow started to furrow. "I have some time left, maybe I could look over the case files on Andre's death."
Turning his gaze down the hallway, he saw Trina in the distance pouring a cup of coffee. His nose crinkled and he looked to the Chief's door some feet away from her. "I need to talk to the Chief first."
Is it grief, everyone handles grief differently, seems like Trina's shut herself down over the years. Probably unlikely Beck's going to be getting on friendly terms with his partner anytime soon. Looks like he's ready to start taking his first look into his own homicide investigation, reckon he'll be cluing his partner in on it?