Sara
My head throbs as I slowly wake up, pale light slanting in through an opening in the curtains. The drone of the air conditioner a strange comfort as I lay, tangled in sheets, revisiting last night.
It's hazy. I remember laughter- a young cop from Jersey eager to hear my stories and keep my spirits lifted. I remember many rounds of beer. I remember smoking too harshly and shouting at Sofia. And again, mercifully, I remember laughter.
I spoke to Gil- an obligatory call, two days too late to be considered thoughtful. It was nice to hear his voice, something familiar in an unfamiliar place. He was walking Hank through Fountain Park, too immersed in the case to enjoy his night off or inquire about anything outside of the investigation. Still, I forgive him. The warmth of his attention feels like a balm.
Sofia lost herself, or perhaps just her purchase on things. I'm not sure when exactly this happened, but I can feel it in her like a palpable tension. See it in her like a wild animal held captive. She's on edge, both reckless and over-cautious, swinging between the two like a pendulum. She's distracted and alert. A paradox.
At least she's sleeping.
I turn to observe the blonde, splayed out beneath thin sheets. It was a hunch that she might sleep better with someone beside her, even if that someone was me. I think of her half-hearted attempt to leave last night, sleepy eyed and languid. How my hand against her chest was enough to convince her to stay. I'm sure the alcohol helped ease her tensions, though I'm feeling a softness towards her that I hadn't anticipated.
I think of her sliding between my body and the hotel door. How, for a brief moment, I thought she might kiss me. In retrospect, it's an absurd notion. There's not enough alcohol in the world for her to want me like that; for us to find ourselves in that scenario. It's just her way of moving through the world- smooth and seductive, intentional or not I'm unsure.
I watch the steady rise and fall of her back, blonde hair mussed against the pillows, and dismiss the thought entirely. She's straight, and I'm involved with a man who feels like home some days. It's enough.
I inhale deeply, raising my arms and arching my back into a deep stretch, turning my thoughts to coffee and this case that we're losing precious time on.
By 8:00 I've set up at the small work desk and am searching for any information on the people closest to Walton. I grimace as I take a sip of iced coffee from the shop down the street, warm and diluted now, the sugar accumulated at the bottom too much for even me.
A quiet groan emanates from the bed and I glance up, watching Sofia prop herself onto her forearms, blinking tiredly as she scans the room.
"Good morning sunshine"
She startles, head snapping over to me with a look of surprise that immediately morphs into confusion.
"Phoenix, my hotel room, too much beer…" I list off, watching as recognition washes over her features and she drops wearily back against the pillows.
"Right"
"There's coffee beside you" I murmur, frowning at the disturbing Facebook profile of a man named James Wagner.
"How long have you been awake?" She asks, sliding tiredly up against the headboard and grabbing the paper cup, a soft furrow to her brow.
"A couple hours"
An old, dilapidated farmhouse shows up in a few of the photos that include Walton. No photos inside, just a few men drinking beer around a bonfire in the side yard. A caption that refers to it as 'the old house'.
"So I'm thinking, Steve Walton has nothing to his name, just a trailer and a beater truck. If he killed or kidnapped Elizabeth, he probably had help"
"Well, Hennig was a bust, as far as we could tell"
"Yeah, but Hennig isn't the only one who has bailed him out over the years. There are two other men, and this guy- James Wagner- really screams murder accomplice"
She draws in a deep breath before kicking back crumpled sheets and sliding off the bed. Her hair is untamed, t-shirt crumpled, my sweatpants pooling around her ankles, a couple inches too long. Blue eyes still adjusting to the light, she narrows them as she comes to stand behind me.
Her effortlessness is irritating. Half-awake and unkempt, she's beautiful. My mind immediately turns to Gil; turns to them- her sleepy voice, his hungry gaze. Her hand rests on my shoulder as she leans over, burnished hair brushing my neck, and the image dissipates. This has nothing to do with him.
"Alright, show me what you've got detective" she says, voice raspy and teasing.
"I realize I'm grasping at straws here, but there are multiple photos of these guys on this acreage… the house looks condemned, but they obviously spend time out there. Could be the perfect place to hold someone captive. Or bury a body"
"And what makes you think this Wagner guy is involved?" she asks, squinting softly at the photos as I scroll through them.
"I don't know, a hunch? Desperation?"
She chuckles- a throaty sound that I almost feel against my back.
"Let me get dressed, swallow a bottle of Tylenol, and we'll go back to the station. See if there's anything on this guy worth noting"
Her fingertips fall away from my shoulder and I immediately miss the warmth, scrolling absently down, in search of something. Anything.
"Sara"
I turn, meeting her gaze.
"This was the first time I've slept well in weeks. I was... exhausted. Thank you"
Her straightforwardness surprises me, though I'm not sure why. I offer her a crooked smile and a soft nod of acknowledgement.
"Anytime"
She holds my gaze for a moment before ducking out of the room.
"Just can't keep away from me, can you"
Sofia glances up at the small office doorway with a frown, quirking an eyebrow at Detective Lane.
"Good of you to show up" she comments, gaze flicking to the wall clock that reads 1:00. I smile into a sip of coffee, leaning back in my seat. We've been hovered over the computer for two hours now, looking into old crime records.
Lane chuckles, sliding the messenger bag from his body before taking a seat on the opposite side of the small oak desk.
"I would have been here earlier, but my office has been invaded by some big city hot-shots"
"Yeah well, these hot-shots need some help. Does the name James Wagner ring a bell?"
Thick brow furrowing, he considers the question.
"Vaguely. Night club assault, a year or so ago?"
"Yeah, one of his many offences. Him and Steve Walton are tight, they've committed multiple crimes together, he's bailed him out of jail…"
"We figure" I chime in, "If Walton did this, he couldn't have done it alone. He would have needed a place to hold Elizabeth, or a secluded spot to bury the body. Who better to call than someone you've already committed crimes with?"
"Do you have any other reason to suspect this guy?"
"No" Sofia admits, dropping back into the office chair and draping her forearms over the sides. "Last-ditch attempt. Then we're out of your hair"
"You got an address?"
"Yeah, home address is..." she glances down at her notes, "1410 Apache Drive. We're going to swing by and see if we can talk to him, but the real location we're interested in is out near Canyon Country- 149 Dry Gulch Road. He owns a few acres of land out there"
"Okay. I'll ride along, but you'll have to wait a few hours. I've got a meeting with Chief Curtis- she's from around your neck of the woods actually, maybe you know her?"
I bite back a smile, glancing over at Sofia who meets Lane's gaze with a soft smirk.
"Yeah, I'm familiar"
"She'll be here soon actually" he says, glancing down at his watch. "We shouldn't go any later than 4"
"Wait- she's physically here, now?"
"Yeah" he says, oblivious to her sudden shift in mood, taking a sip of coffee from a chipped PD mug.
"Fantastic" Sofia mutters under her breath, leaning forward to squint at the computer screen once more, retrieving the pen she'd abandoned on the desk.
Understanding that this is a run-in we are avoiding, I offer Lane a smile.
"We'll uh, be out of your way soon"
I've never asked Sofia about her mother. I've heard stories about Elizabeth Curtis over the years- the no-nonsense woman who made Chief at 45. Who has one of the cleanest departmental records in the country. I've never crossed paths with her though, never considered what it would be like to be raised by a woman like that.
Lane disappears into the bustle of the department while Sofia scribbles down the last bits of information we need.
"You don't want to see her?" I ask, to which she scoffs quietly.
"It's complicated"
"Yeah, I get that" I muse, slipping the laptop into my shoulder bag, thoughts of my own mother flashing through my mind. When I glance up I'm met with the piercing blue eyes of a vaguely familiar woman, badge attached her slim hip, sauntering directly towards us.
"Sof" I warn, just before she reaches the threshold of the office.
Sofia glances up as Elizabeth comes to lean casually against the doorway, thick blonde hair pulled into a loose braid, hands pocketed in dark slacks.
"Why is it that I can never find you in Vegas, yet here you are?"
I sink back into my chair, watching Sofia lock eyes with her.
"The universe apparently has a sick sense of humor" Sofia mutters, dropping the pen onto the desk with a soft clatter. "What are you doing here?"
Elizabeth chuckles, moving smoothly into the office. She's beautiful, strikingly so. I recognize Sofia in her- the cheekbones, the stubborn chin, the bright eyes. There's a grace to the way she carries herself, a unique trait in this profession.
"I know you're still upset with me, but I'm not going to apologize"
I feel Sofia tense beside me, jaw clenching softly.
"What are you doing here?" She repeats.
"Annual departmental meeting. Robert claimed he's dealing with a crisis and couldn't possibly leave, so we all needed to come down here this year" she rolls glacial eyes, flicking a delicate hand towards the large window. "'You want to see a crisis?' I asked him. Step outside. That's a crisis. It's 110 degrees, the mountains are on fire again…"
Sofia's gaze flicks over to the window, scanning the horizon for signs of a blaze. I slip a toothpick out of the small box next to Lane's pen holder, sliding it across the surface of the desk until it collides with her fingertips. A feeble attempt at comfort. She glances down, biting back a smile as bright eyes flick up to meet mine briefly, taking purchase of it.
When I look back to Elizabeth, her focus is zeroed in on me, heavy and scrutinizing.
"I'm not sure we've met"
I press my lips into a smile
"I'm Sara, Sidle. CSI. We're out here investigating some leads on a homicide"
"That triple murder, I heard. Any luck?"
"To be determined" I tell her honestly, refusing to show my discomfort beneath her intense gaze. It lingers for a moment before she turns back to Sofia.
"Have you spoken to Kyle?"
If possible, Sofia tenses further, eyebrows knitting together.
"Kyle's in Tucson, why would I?"
"Kyle's in a board room reprimanding Detective Cruz over a botched murder investigation. I'm surprised you two haven't run into each other"
A district attorney from Tucson. Must be the ex. I glance at Sofia who scoffs in amusement, running her tongue over her bottom lip in typical irritated fashion.
"I really don't want that, so thanks for the heads up"
"Don't be so brash darling, you two were good together. Besides, it doesn't hurt to keep in good standing with a renowned DA"
Sofia quirks an eyebrow as she slips the toothpick between her teeth.
"Anything else?"
"You look tired"
Sofia chuckles, rolling the toothpick between her teeth before pushing up out of her chair.
"Likewise" she mutters as she moves around the desk, stepping into Elizabeth's firm embrace.
"Are you doing okay?" I hear her ask quietly, voice muffled by Sofia's hair.
"Yeah. I'll call you" she assures her, giving Elizabeth's hand a squeeze before sauntering out the door.
"Nice to meet you" I offer, flashing a quick smile before following Sofia out of the office.
I keep quiet as we navigate our way through the chaotic bowels of the department, my curiosity is piqued. I scan the area, hoping to see a spark of recognition on someone's face. The tattooed, well-dressed man refilling a mug of coffee. The man with dark hair pulled into a smooth bun, looking pensive as he moves down the hall towards us. As much as I want to protect Sofia's rapidly fraying sense of peace, my curiosity is stronger.
It's not until we make our way downstairs, into the quiet of the lobby, that I fall back into step beside her.
"So, Kyle?" I ask, to which she gives her head a single shake, clicking her tongue.
"My ex. Don't want to talk about it"
She glances around as we approach the door, as though something else might take her off guard before we leave.
"Bad breakup? Been there"
She shoots me an amused glance, pushing out into the oppressive midday heat.
"Not bad, just… painful"
She slips her aviators from the V of her blouse, picking up her pace as we head to the SUV.
"Well now that we've escaped, what do you want to do?" I ask as she opens the door with a grimace, sparking the ignition and blasting the AC before we even attempt getting in.
"Let's go by Wagner's place, ask some questions. We'll wait for Lane to check out the acreage"
The neighbourhood Wagner lives in is not at all what I expected. Upper-middle class, manicured lawns and uninterrupted views of the mountains, the ridges engulfed in flames once again. His house is at the end of a cul-de-sac, set back from the road. I can't help but wonder how much water his lawn alone requires, slowly depleting the Salt river for aesthetic sake.
Dark curtains are drawn, a single car parked in the driveway. No one answers, our frustration palpable. It's an unnerving place, though I can't quite put my finger on why. The dark windows maybe, the pitted cement leading to an immaculate house. The silence of it, nestled away from an otherwise chaotic city.
We drive back to check out Steve's trailer- blinds open now, truck in the driveway.
"How do you think these guys met?" Sofia asks, forehead scrunching as she licks a stray drop of ice cream from the edge of her gas station ice cream cone that we picked up on the way over.
"School? Prison? Who knows" I muse, watching a young woman pause on the sidewalk, leaning forward to pour bottled water over the back of her neck before continuing on. I glance at the temperature gauge on the dashboard- 109.
Everything feels stagnated- the streets nearly barren, no movement in the trailer, our investigation on pause until Lane has wrapped up his meeting. I glance over at Sofia who has given up on keeping up with the melting cone, dropping the messy remnants into her mouth.
"Are you this graceful naturally, or did it take practice?" I ask, pursing my lips into a smile as she shoots me a mock glare, wiping stray drops of vanilla ice cream from her chin.
Her phone jumps to life in the centre console and I bite back a laugh as she wipes her hands frantically with a now-disintegrating napkin.
I pick up the phone, Lane's name flashing over the screen. She nods towards it in consent and I answer, tossing my water bottle into her lap.
The farmhouse is 20 miles out of town, set back from the road. I'm feeling hopeful, though as we make our way around the property, my hopes fade. There are no vehicles around, no one comes to the door. We peer in the lower windows, scan the property for any signs of disturbed earth. There's only so much we can do on a hunch.
Back in town we have dinner with Lane. I watch in amusement as he tries one last time to charm Sofia. It's soft and genuine and I am almost rooting for him, though she brushes him off with typical brazen amusement. It leaves me wondering once again what her type is if it's not this handsome, good humoured man. Maybe, like me, she's drawn to dysfunction. To men with less of an obvious agenda.
I mention Wagner's house again, unable to shake my unease. Lane promises to go by tomorrow, ask some questions, feel him out. We are heading back to Vegas in the morning, Ecklie sure to have noticed our absence by now, two days over our allotted stay.
"What is it that makes you so sure about this guy?" Lane asks between bites of a burger.
"I'm not sure about him, he just… gives me a bad vibe"
Sofia's lips curl into a smile, eyebrow quirking in skeptical amusement. I narrow my eyes at her as she disguises her smile behind a sip of water.
"The guy had a photo from two weeks ago with no curtains up, not even a curtain rod. Now he has blackout curtains in all his windows. It's strange"
"It's 110 degrees outside, it would be strange to not have your curtains shut" Lane points out.
"Why hang curtains in August?" I ask, gesturing vaguely in frustration, a piece of pizza in my hand. "There have been heatwaves since June. It doesn't make sense"
"Do you want to go over there tonight?" Lane asks, glancing at his watch. I open my mouth to protest, aware that my hunch will be explored tomorrow, but he holds up a hand before I can speak, nodding towards my plate.
"Finish that abomination of a pizza," he orders, referring to the lack of meat; the extra pineapples. "And we'll go over. Get you some peace of mind. He must be home now"
"Excellent plan" I agree, pointing my pizza slice at him, pursing my lips into a grin.
We're two blocks away from Wagners house when Sofia slows down, squinting out the window from the driver's seat.
"Is that Steve Walton's truck?"
I follow her gaze to the beat-up vehicle parked behind a Mercedes, clearly out of place in this affluent neighbourhood.
"Yeah, looks like it"
There's a tension building in me as we pull up across the street from Wagner's house. The curtains are still drawn, a light on outside. The car is still there, backed into the driveway with the trunk popped. It takes a moment to make out the man bent over it as James Wagner.
"You two go ahead, three of us might feel like an ambush. I'll be right here if things get heated" Lane says.
As we cross the vacant street, I watch Sofia slip into detective mode- her posture tightening, swagger a bit more exaggerated as she shifts her gun belt against her hips. Wagner doesn't notice us until we're a few feet away, jolting up from where he's been bent over the trunk at the sound of Sofia's voice
"Excuse me, James Wagner?"
A split second of panic flashes across his rough features before he collects himself, slamming the trunk shut.
"Whose asking?"
His voice is smoother than I would have expected based on his appearance. There's an expensive watch on his wrist despite the ragged t-shirt he's wearing, jeans baggy and torn.
"I'm Detective Curtis, LVPD. This is Sara Sidle. We came by earlier; we have a few questions we'd like to ask you"
"Yeah, I was out. What can I help you with?"
"It's regarding your relationship with Steve Walton. Have you two been in contact recently?"
He runs a hand over his head, as though considering the question.
"Not in a few weeks, no"
"Really? So that's not his truck parked down the street?" she asks, his shoulders visibly tensing as he steps slowly around the vehicle.
"If it is, he must be visiting someone down the street. I haven't seen him"
Something is off. That was obvious the moment he anxiously slammed the trunk, a sense of dread creeping up the back of my neck like a warning. Sofia feels it too, I can tell by the tension held in her jaw, the way her hand is hovering near her holster. The quiet is too heavy here, we're too far back from the road.
"We don't want to take up any more of your evening, but would you mind coming by the station tomorrow? It would help clear your name from this investigation"
He scowls but gives a soft grunt of agreement.
"Sure, whatever you need. I'm just about to head out, so if you don't mind…" he gestures to his car, my eyes flashing down to the back of his exposed forearm- dried blood smeared in a large, vivid streak across pale skin. Clearly not his own. His gaze follows mine to the blood, then flicks back to meet mine, expression dark and threatening.
I expect him to attempt an explanation, but he must sense that we suspect more than we're letting on.
What happens next happens in the blink of an eye.
"Sofia!" I shout in warning as he whips his hand around to the waistband of his jeans.
My breath lodges itself somewhere between my lungs and my throat as she positions herself in front of me, grasping for her gun. She's quick, but he's already pointing a small .45 and doesn't hesitate, the sound of a gunshot ripping through the quiet suburban night.