Moonlight, The Next Chapter: Darkness

Chapter 19

Show and Tell

Intro Song: Right Before Your Eyes, Hoobastank

Carl cruised to a halt a few doors down from Jamie's house, his emergency light safely stowed in the passenger seat. If there was someone still skulking around Jamie Sommers' house, he didn't want to alert them.

The rental was tiny, but neat, with freshly-cut grass edged by flowers around the foundation. She had the ground floor apartment and an elderly gay man occupied the second floor. Jamie had told Davis that, on the rare occasions she had been able to get him to talk to her, he had said he didn't want the ground floor apartment for fear of harassment by bigoted people in the area. The detective still remembered how her soft brown eyes had filled with tears as she recounted the story to him.

"I- I felt so badly for him. I mean, I encounter prejudice, but not like that. Not to the point that it would mean I had to live hidden away upstairs in order to feel safe. How awful to have to exist with that hanging over your head," she'd said quietly,

Carl remembered thinking at the time, what an empathetic, caring person she was to worry about a man she barely knew. Now…I hope the guy wasn't prescient.

Easing his gun out of its shoulder holster, he climbed out of his car, closing the door quietly behind him. Wincing at the distinctive click, Carl berated himself for not leaving the door open slightly to avoid that sound. You know better!

His first instinct was to pound on her door and shout her name. That action, however, could get both of them killed if an intruder had gained access to her apartment. He crept silently around to the side of the building, his gun drawn and at the ready as he moved. Circling the quiet house, he saw no signs of any forced entry. That was either a good sign – whoever it was that had tried to get into Jamie's house had given up and moved on – or a very bad sign because the intruder had gotten in.

The detective took one more turn around the house, stopping to check a small storage shed in the postage-stamp sized backyard. Still nothing. Silently, he climbed the front steps and tried to see the interior from the windows on either side of the door, swearing under his breath at the drapes that blocked his vision. There was only dim light showing in the room so he couldn't make out any shapes. Davis knew he should call for backup, but if someone had actually gotten inside, Jamie was in real danger. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

Taking a deep breath, Carl pounded on the front door, bellowing, "LAPD! Open the door and put your hands on your head!" Backing away slightly, he assumed the Isosceles stance, training his gun on the entrance.

The doorknob rattled and he heard the sound of the safety chain being disengaged. The detective steadied his aim as the door began to open. Then a crying Jamie Sommers launched herself through the doorway and into his arms.

"Jamie! Are you alright? Is there someone inside?!" Davis pushed her behind him as he re-trained his gun on the now-wide-open front door.

"N-no, no there's no one the-there," she stammered, clinging to his coat. Her tears and trembling weren't faked; she had worked herself into a state of near-hysteria as she tried to figure out what to say when he showed up.

"Hey, hey! It's okay. You're safe now." Carl holstered his gun and put his arms around her protectively, his voice and face full of concern.

"I'm okay," she echoed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to enjoy the moment of closeness, even if it did come as the result of deception.

The detective's training quickly took over. Leading her inside, he shut and locked the door before depositing her on the couch in the small, neat living room. Quickly, he checked the other rooms of the small apartment. Neat, empty rooms greeted him – kitchen, pantry, laundry area, bathroom, and last, the bedroom. He suppressed a grin at the sight of an old, ragged Winnie-the-Pooh bear sitting in the middle of the carefully-made bed.

"Okay, all clear," he called out. Holstering his gun, he moved back into the living room and sat down next to her. "Now, what happened?! Tell me everything you can remember!" His voice was commanding, brooking no argument.

Dammit! Jamie shifted uneasily on the sofa. She had never been very good at lying – a weakness that she had struggled with since joining Auxilium – and now she had to try to fake out a cop. The voice in her head coached her helpfully. Take your time. Say as little as possible. Less is more…

The young woman drew a tremulous breath. "I- I don't really know. I didn't see much, just a shadow at the window, trying to pry it open after he pushed on the front door. I was so scared, I- I couldn't breathe!" Jamie buried her face in his chest, enjoying the feel and smell of the detective in spite of herself. She felt about 6 inches tall over lying to him like this. You are going to burn in hell, Jamie Sommers.

Carl could feel her slender body shaking violently; he wrapped his arms around her protectively again. "Hey. Hey, look at me." He put one forefinger under her chin and gently tilted her tear-streaked face up to his. "You're safe now." It was unprofessional as hell, but he couldn't help himself as he bent his head down and kissed her. Her mouth under his was…heaven. It feels heavenly.

Jamie was taken aback, but then gave herself over to the feel of his mouth on hers. A small moan escaped her as he drew her to him even more tightly. Yep, you are definitely going to burn in hell…

Davis finally pulled back. Clearing his throat, he muttered what he'd been thinking. "Well, that wasn't very professional of me. I apologize."

His companion put one hand on his cheek. "You mean, you didn't learn that in detective school? They missed the boat then because I feel much better now!" She swiped at the tears on her cheeks with her free hand and smiled. Maybe this was going to be okay. Maybe they would just end up making out on the couch and she wouldn't have to worry about what to say to him. Maybe he'd forget all about this incident… Rrrriiiggghhhhtttt.

Carl lifted her hand from his cheek and held it gently. "Okay, let's take this from the top. Tell me again exactly what you saw and heard. Don't leave anything out, no matter how small or trivial it might seem."

Oh-oh.

"I-I-"

"Take your time, Jamie. It's fine. You're safe."

Deep breath. She started in. "I was just washing my face in the bathroom, you know, getting ready for bed - and I heard a noise at the front door. Rattling, like someone was shaking the door knob. I had the deadbolt and safety chain engaged so the door didn't budge." She fell silent.

"What happened next?" he prodded gently. Give her time, you jerk.

"I turned off the lights and then snuck out of the bathroom into the hall where I could see the front door. It was quiet for a moment and then…" Jamie stopped again, drawing a shuddering breath before continuing, her words tumbling out of her mouth faster and faster. "Then, I saw a shadow in front of the window and it rattled too. I realized whoever it was, they were trying to get in through the window. I was petrified!"

"Is that when you called me?"

The young woman nodded wordlessly, her large brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I- I didn't know what else to do! I wasn't thinking clearly, I'm sorry."

"Hey, hey, don't apologize! You can call me anytime; I was just worried about whether I could get to you before something happened." He rubbed his hand up and down her slender arm. "Then what happened?"

"I- he must have heard me talking to you because then the window really rattled. Rhythmically. It sounded like he was throwing himself against it over and over. That's when I accidentally hung up on you. I backed into the bathroom because it doesn't have any windows and locked the door. And then…" She reached out to take one of his hands. "Then I waited for you. I knew you would come for me."

"You didn't hear anything else?"

"No, after I'd been in the bathroom a couple of minutes, the noise stopped."

"No footsteps?"

She shook her head. Should she have been able to hear that? Dammit, I'm not sure. "But, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I would have heard that from the bathroom. I-I'm sorry, I'm just so shook up…"

"It's okay," Davis said soothingly. There was silence for a moment as he thought over what she had said. "Now, you kept saying 'he' and 'him'. What makes you sure it was a man?"

Jamie glanced up at him. "I- I guess I don't actually know for sure – but the shadow I saw at the window looked like a man. Tall, broad shoulders…doesn't narrow it down much, I know, but I don't think it could have been a woman."

"No, that's helpful. Can you give me an idea of how tall?"

"I-" She shook her head. "I'm sorry." The more details she threw out, the greater the chance of getting tripped up later. Beth, you owe me big time!

He thought for a moment. "Tell you what," he said suddenly, jumping up. "Watch the window and see if this helps." He hurried out the front door, leaving it open as he stepped onto the small porch and moved in front of the window. Tapping it gently to be sure he had her attention, he called, "Look at my shadow and tell me if it's bigger or smaller than the one you saw."

Jamie had to shake her head admiringly. He's good. "A little taller," she called. "Maybe an inch or so. His head was right at the top of the window."

The detective stuck his head back through the front door. "That's good! How about body build?" He jumped back in front of the window to aid her memory.

"Stockier," she called back. "A lot heavier build. His shoulders almost filled the window."

Coming back through the door and closing it behind him, Carl smiled at her, pleased. He hurried over to sit next to her again. "Good, Jamie, that was good! The window is about six feet at the top from the porch, so we can assume he's about six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a stocky build. That's a lot."

"Well, you helped a lot. I'm beginning to understand why you're so good at what you do." She smiled back at him; inside, her conscience was eating at her more every minute. Standing up, she brushed at imaginary lint on her shirt and said, "I think what I need is some coffee. Can I make you a cup as well? I've got a new supply of Orleans beans – Creole flavor, coffee and chicory."

"I've never had that. It sounds amazing, thank you." His eyes followed her from the room as she hurried into her small kitchen area. He called out, "You know, I've walked you up to your door, but you've never invited me inside before. Maybe I should thank your intruder when I catch him." At the sound of her nervous laugh, the detective jumped up, following the sounds of a coffee grinder.

"Jamie- "

Her head jerked up, startled, as he continued. "I know you're shook up and scared right now. Anyone would be. Our homes are our sanctuary, a place where we can relax, a place that protects us from the outside world. It's especially scary when something happens there." He paused for a moment. "But I want you to know I will catch whoever this was, I promise. You can feel safe here again."

He really is pretty special…

"Thank you. I feel a lot better already, but I don't know how you can find someone with the little I gave you to go on." She busied herself with finding the coffee filters and dumping the grounds into one.

"Tomorrow, I'll check around the house again. In the daylight, I may find something else to go on. The ground is hard right now, but you never know. I might find a footprint, or a cigarette butt…something." When the tea kettle began to whistle, he watched her begin to pour hot water over the coffee grounds into what was arguably the strangest coffee pot he'd ever seen. His eyes narrowed. "Okay, what the hell is that thing?"

"This? Oh, it's a Chemex coffee pot. Makes the best coffee you'll ever taste. And, I'll have you know, it's even on display at MOMA!" She referenced the famous Museum of Modern Art in New York with a fake haughtiness.

"Well, excccuuuussssseee me," he teased. "It looks like an open-ended hourglass – or something you'd find in a chem lab."

"Funny you should say that – it was invented by a chemist in the 1940s. See, you people in L.A. like your coffee…but we New Orleanians worship it." She threw back her head and laughed, a delightful, throaty sound in the small space, as she poured each of them a cup of the rich brew.

Carl took his first sip and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor. He opened them to find an amused Jamie Sommers watching him, elbows on the tiny island and chin propped in one hand.

"Well…?"

"Amazing. I- this might be the best cup of coffee I've ever had. I guess I need a Chemex, huh? And maybe some of these beans…"

"Yup."

They sipped the coffee in companionable silence for a moment before Davis spoke again. "So, I was wondering…"

"Mmmm?" Maybe he was going to ask her out again. Thanks, Chemex.

"I was wondering if there could be any connection between the guy on your porch and this Durand jerk you were so frightened of when he was at the office. Could it have been him?"

Shit.

She pretended to consider the idea as she blew on her hot coffee. "Noooo, he's way bigger than that shadow was."

"Taller than six feet?" The detective's tone was skeptical.

"Oh yeah. Durand is about six-four. He's a monster…in more ways than one."

The comment seemed to trigger Davis. He sat his mug down with a thump and leaned over the small island toward her. "Jamie, you need to tell me what the deal is with that guy. Why are you so afraid of him? What is he to you? I didn't press you before when you clammed up about him but things are different now. Someone trying to break into your house puts a whole new spin on this." When he saw her hesitation, he prodded her. "Come on, it's show-and-tell time. And I'm not leaving here until you talk to me."

"Carl, I can't-"

"Then I'll bring Durand in for questioning." His voice was decisive.

"You can't do that!"

"Oh yes I can – and I will. I would have to file a report on this so I'd have cause – and I'll do it!" Davis realized he was almost shouting now and lowered his voice as he added, "I'm not going to let you get hurt." He reached out to take her free hand.

There was a long silence as Jamie Sommers considered her options. Bringing Carl into the Auxilium world without permission would get her in big trouble with the organization. And if she told him about vampires…well, he'd probably be calling for a padded wagon to take her away. Yet, she couldn't help feeling that he could be a real asset to their efforts. Then, there were the feelings she had for him…

Fuck it.

She uttered those words aloud, startling the man holding her hand.

"What-?"

"I said 'fuck it', I'm going to tell you. But you have to promise me first not to breathe a word of what I tell you. Not to anyone. And you can't question Durand. Deal?" Her tone brooked no argument.

"Deal." He shook the hand he was holding.

"Okay. I'm going to trust you." She swallowed hard. Be careful. "So you know that I belong to an organization called Auxilium – and you've been great about not pressing me to get more information," she added before continuing. "And you also know that Durand heads up CHOIR, the philanthropic operation." She waited for Carl to nod his agreement, then continued. "But, what you don't know is that, even with all the good work CHOIR does, it's really just a cover. For a group called Crucis – and that organization is…evil. There's no other word for them."

"Evil in what way?"

She sighed heavily. "There's a small group of people in the world with a certain genetic… anomaly, I guess you'd call it. Because of that, they have some unique characteristics - and also some unique challenges," she added, thinking of Mick St. John having to survive by drinking blood. "Crucis sees them as an abomination, a danger to the rest of us." A thought inspired her. "They think of these individuals as things, not as people like us. And they view them as something that could poison what they think of as pure blood. A lot like the way Nazis viewed Jews."

"And so, like Nazis…" Carl couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"Yes. Like Nazis, their mission is to wipe them off the face of the earth." Jamie's words seemed to hang in the air, eventually dropping from their own weight.

"That's sick."

"Yes, it is," she agreed.

"What is it about them that Crucis finds threatening?"

Tread carefully, Jamie. "Their genetics make them…stronger…than the average person, and more impervious to injuries and disease. But they also have to follow a very restricted diet - and they are extremely sensitive to sunlight-

"Like XP?"

"Like what?"

"Xeroderma pigmentosum. I knew someone with that disorder. They can't tolerate any exposure to UV rays."

"Yeah, something like that," Jamie responded vaguely.

"That all doesn't sound so bad – or threatening. The fact that they are strong and resistant to disease… seems like those would be good things."

"I never said Crucis was rational about this. They don't see it that way – especially Durand. He sees it almost as a religious crusade - they are a scourge and it's his mission to eradicate them." Jamie breathed a silent sigh of relief. Okay, she'd gotten through the hardest part without having to talk about vampires, and Carl seemed to be accepting her explanations…

"So how did you- "

"How did I get involved in all this?"

He nodded, rubbing his thumb gently over the hand he still held.

"Like I told you, I was so impressed with the work CHOIR did in N'Orleans after Katrina that I wanted to help. I was kind of…floundering…after I finished my degree and I thought they were an organization I could be committed to. Do something useful with my life. So, I went to work for them, having no idea that they were mainly a cover for Crucis."

"Why did they think this Crucis group needs a cover?"

"Well, for one thing, no one wants to admit to being affiliated with an organization that has killing people as its mission," Jamie drawled drily.

"Fair point." Carl shook his head at the ridiculousness of his own question.

"Funding is another point. CHOIR is a non-profit and a lot of very wealthy people believe in its mission and donate to it. Durand leads a very luxurious life with that money – and siphons a lot of it off to fund Crucis activities. Neither of which his donors are aware of. To be fair, CHOIR does do good work with some of it, as well."

"How do you know all this?"

"I worked under his assistant, who was his right-hand man, so I…saw things. And heard others. And the more I saw and heard, the more I dug to find out what was really going on." Jamie shook her head, her luxurious curls bouncing on her shoulders. "God, how I wish I hadn't."

"They found out what you knew," the detective guessed.

"Yeah. I guess I'd covered up my true feelings pretty well because they offered me the 'opportunity' to join Crucis." She uttered a short, cynical laugh. "As if I would ever have anything to do with something like that."

"I gather they don't take rejection well."

"No. They don't. I don't think they would typically try to bring someone into Crucis without knowing their views would be shared. They made a…mistake…with me."

"So you ran." It wasn't a question.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes at the memory. "I didn't want to! N'Orleans is my home! What little family I had left was there. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. But there was no way I could sign on to what they were doing. I'm no murderer! And these people they target – they aren't hurting anyone." Most of them aren't…

Davis prodded her gently. "So you joined Auxilium…"

"Not right away. I left N'Orleans and lived in different places – Chicago, Austin, Denver – just trying to cover my tracks and make sure they weren't going to come after me. After a couple of years of that, I got over the worst of my fear – and I got mad. Mad about what they were doing to these people, mad about what they had done to me and my life! I had seen documents that discussed how Auxilium was a thorn in their side, and what to do about them. So, I made contact and went to work for them."

"I'm assuming you are in L.A because of Auxilium then." When she nodded, he asked, "But, why L.A.? What's special about this town?"

"I had heard about something Durand – Crucis – was planning. Something called Operation Domino. The leaders at Auxilium had some information about it, but not the whole picture. And, before you ask, I don't know much. I just know that it's a nationwide operation that's supposed to culminate in L.A. Apparently, they have a lot of Crucis operatives here so my job is to keep my eyes and ears open for anything I might see or hear that could tell us more."

"And Durand coming to the office was just a coincidence?"

Jamie shrugged. "I'm not sure about that. Personally? I think he's in cahoots with Talbot and Talbot's mentor, somebody named Edward Garfield. How much they know, I have no idea. And I honestly have no evidence about Talbot or Garfield - it's just a feeling I have. I didn't have much contact with Durand when I worked for CHOIR – I was just an underling and he isn't the type to pay much attention to low level people like me. I could be wrong about this but I'd hate like hell to find out."

Jamie looked up at the detective, the tears she'd been holding back starting to spill down her cheeks. She desperately wanted to tell him all of it. The truth about vampires, everything – but her inner voice told her that would be a catastrophic mistake, at least at this point. And for once, she listened to her better angels. But she still needed to warn him of the danger ahead somehow…

"I- I think Crucis is behind the ambush in the desert, Carl. I don't have proof, but I'm sure of it. I think Crucis tried to kill you and Mick. I never meant for you to be hurt. I'm so sorry I didn't warn you but I didn't know," she added in a whisper as she broke down, sobbing.

Davis moved around the island to take her in his arms. "It's okay, you didn't know." He hugged her to him. "Mick's going to be alright. I'm alright. But, Jamie…?"

She looked up at the handsome detective from the safety of his arms. "Why would they target you?"

He nodded, his puzzlement showing in his eyes.

"I think you were just in the way – but Mick is…"

"Oh god, he's one of those people they're after." Davis finished the sentence for her. "Well… shit."

End song: Open Your Eyes, Snow Patrol