Self Loathing
Storm clouds started to roll in after a few hours of being locked in my office with a case that already seemed to be a dead end. With a few glances at my partner beside me, I was able to determine that she believed the same. The way her shoulders curled inward and how she chewed on her lip were the main signals that she was frustrated with what she was seeing on her laptop screen. Not to mention she had been bouncing her leg for the better half of an hour and it was driving me up the wall.
"Stop that," I ordered and held down her knee with my hand. She visibly broke out of her trance and relaxed with a sharp exhale.
Her hands rubbed heavily down her face. "Sorry," the word left in a groggy mumble in her palms. As much as I wanted to keep the physical contact, I forced myself to let go. "Have you made any progress? Because I'll tell you now, I did not."
I sighed. "Not really, no. As far as I could figure out, his wife passed—"
"Like Simon said."
"Yes, like Einstein said," I glared at her under my brows, she tried to mask a smug smirk. "He has no children or siblings and his parents are long gone. I guess the only thing to really do is talk to his neighbors. In this day and age it seems most people have surveillance cameras, we may find something there."
"The safest neighborhood in Salem with a population of mostly the elderly. Oh, yeah, I'm sure they'll have the best technology hanging around," she said sarcastically while spinning slow circles in her chair and fidgeting with her cube.
My eyes rolled. "It's our best bet, princess. If you have any better ideas I'm all ears." I idly picked at a loose thread on the cuff of my long sleeve.
She stopped mid spin and furrowed her brows before setting her elbows on her knees. "What about flower shops?"
I considered this. It wasn't a bad idea, but Salem probably had at least twenty different flower shops and I was sure all of them had roses in stock. "A needle in a haystack."
"No, hold on. The rose was orange. That's weird, right? When do you ever see orange roses?"
"I don't think I ever really see flowers in general," I scoffed.
"Well, I can tell you that I don't see orange ones very often," she sighed. "And for the record, Prince Charming, women love flowers."
"You assume I haven't given a woman flowers before?" Fuck, I think she was right. I'm fairly certain the only flower I had ever given a girl was one of those flower bracelet things for Senior Prom eight years ago, but I wasn't about to confess that out loud.
"You said it, not me." She stifled a grin. Before I could retort, she spoke again. "So, I guess we have two missions—question neighbors and investigate flower shops for the mysterious orange roses. I can handle the flower shops. I'm sure you can handle the neighbors, yes?"
I leaned back in my chair and laced my fingers behind my head. "And how do you plan on going from shop to shop?"
Her face flushed with a grimace. "I'll take the—"
"If you're about to say you'll take the bus, I'll figure out a better punishment than the last one I suggested," I grumbled and held back a rush of blood that threatened to tent my jeans. She opened her mouth to protest but I cut her off this time. "I will drop you off at Thompson's house to question the two neighbors on either side. I'll skip around between shops and see if any vendor knows who sells the roses. Deal?"
"I feel like our proficiencies are swapped here," she said flatly and crossed her arms over her chest.
"They're flowers, princess. How difficult can it be?" Her dead stare didn't waver. "Look, if we split up and get what we can, I'll buy you lunch at Moreno's when we're done."
She tapped her foot on the carpet with narrowed eyes and looked me up and down with a heavy green gaze. The action made me feel naked. "Make it Pasta Palace and we have a deal."
"Even better." I slapped my hands on my knees and stood. She locked and closed her laptop but froze when I grabbed her under her chin. Green eyes widened up at me and her back went ramrod straight. "Do me a favor and behave. I don't want to have to track you down around the neighborhood because of a spontaneous adventure you decide to embark on alone."
She flushed again. "I—" her words were cut off by a rap on my glass door. The shades only allowed a shadow of a male figure to be seen right outside with an awaiting hand on the handle. I gave Clary a smirk and released her.
"It's open," I called and shoved my hands into my jean pockets to avoid my own impulses.
Simon slipped through the door, much to my dismay. The first thing he did was shoot Clary a smile and a wink before sliding his eyes up to me and dropping the friendly face. I made sure to make mine just as cold. "I have that report on the vic's rose," he said as he handed me a manilla envelope. Clary snatched it with an excited squeal before I could take my hand from my pocket and flipped through the sparse pages, which was never usually a good sign to come from the forensic department.
She visibly deflated. "Nothing? No prints or DNA of any kind?"
The tech shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "It was practically sterile. I checked it myself."
For Clary's sake, I bit back a nasty comment that suggested he probably didn't know how to do his job.
She flicked her eyes to me as if she sensed my restraint but quickly scanned the pages once more. "That's…disappointing. Thank you, Simon." She gave him a weak smile and stood from her chair. The folder floated to the top of my desk.
"Where are you off to?" he asked, directing the question to my partner.
I clenched my teeth and interrupted Clary before she could spill confidential information. "Nowhere important."
He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Clary, can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Uhm," she gave me a wary side eye and a shy smile. I lifted my hands in surrender and went to walk out the door but made a point to catch Clary's eye as I opened the blinds to the window before I closed the door behind me. Only I had noticed her stifle a giggle at my action before she wiped it from her face when Simon turned his attention back to her.
I watched through the blinds with a cocked eyebrow and my hands in my pockets. Was I being an asshole? Maybe, but it's my office and I'll look in as I please. I was sure Clary would divulge the details of their private conversation in the car later.
The asshat turned his back to the window and shielded most of Clary from my sight, but she shifted nervously on her feet until half of her face was visible as she looked up at him. Her face twisted in a way that I could only describe as disappointment or guilt while she replied. His shoulders seemed to tense at what she said but relaxed almost instantly. I could make out the word "sorry" from her lips at the end of her sentence.
He shrugged and pulled her around the waist for the second time today. Her hands stayed tucked in her back pockets even as he placed a small kiss on her lips. A sneer crossed over my face and I resisted the urge to kick the window in. He released her with a smirk and flicked his eyes to mine through the window as he left the office and strode down the hallway back to the lab he crawled out of.
Clary was frozen in place but finally moved to grab her backpack and Rubik's cube after a few blinks and left the office with pink cheeks. I had to push away the jealousy of seeing her physical reaction I adored so much be caused by another man—though, I wouldn't call him that but I digress.
"How romantic, he didn't even hold the door open for you," I remarked bitterly.
"Mmm," her eyes were distant as she hummed distractedly and spun the puzzle pieces in her hands. That made me feel guilty, not for the way I treat Bill Nye but the way I have been indirectly treating her. Maybe she actually liked the guy and I've just been shitting on every little thing he did until she inevitably grows to resent me for it.
Maybe I deserved to be resented.
The puzzle in her fingers made its typical chaotic cacophony of sounds as we rode the elevator down to the lobby and just as I expected, she stayed silent the entire time, watching the colors spin and twist. But I knew she was delaying completing it as she would've had it done by now.
The ding of the elevator was my saving grace from the tension swirling around us and I bit back an audible exhale as we stepped out.
"Why are you uncomfortable?" She suddenly chimed from beside me in the lobby, still working her fingers on the cube.
"What do you mean?"
"Your walk is tense."
"My walk?" I asked incredulously with a chuckle that came out more nervous than I had intended.
She raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you make long strides when you're trying to mentally distance yourself."
"Says the one who had already completed the cube five minutes ago," I scoffed. "What did he want?" I pulled the glass door open and set my hand on her back to lead her out first.
Her exhale left in a fatigued sigh, but instead of answering, she handed me the now-complete Rubik's. I smirked and plucked it from her fingers before opening my car door for her and waving her in. She got in without complaint, which was a good improvement—she would always either make a witty comment about the fragility of my car or just give me an irritated scowl that never managed to reach her eyes.
I twisted the cube as I walked around the front of my car to the driver seat, practically running in anticipation for her answer once the door closed. I had never thumped into my seat and slammed the door faster in my life. The cube still clutched in my hand. My eyes scanned her face. "Details, please."
Her eyes rolled. "He asked if he could take me to lunch after our search."
"And?"
"Well, I mean, I told him no—that I already had plans with you. Then he…well you saw." She tilted her head down until her red hair curtained around her face in an attempt to hide. A sense of pride washed over me, her willingness to reject him for her commitment to our plans made me raise my chin higher.
But the reminder of his blatant show of dominance made my eyes roll in my head. "Ha, yeah, I saw. Not the way I would've done it personally but to each their own."
She whirled to face me with fire in her eyes. "And you think you could've done it better?"
A sneer ghosted my lips. "I don't know, did I?" I quickly brushed my hand against the exposed strip of skin on her midsection where I had clutched her against a tree earlier.
She blanched and slapped my hand away. "We are so not talking about that." Pink returned to her cheeks while she faced forward again behind her hair curtain, but a petite manicured hand still rested where mine had been, proving my point.
"Suit yourself." My shoulders raised in a shrug as I threw the car into reverse, but a pinprick of hurt stabbed my insides at her embarrassment toward our moment in the woods.
Still, I was internally seething. Did this mean they're together now? I mean, she doesn't seem entirely into it but at the same time I'm not there to see every interaction they have. Maybe she's uncomfortable with me keeping such a close eye and it's putting a strain on the growing relationship.
I only want what's best for her, and Simon isn't it. But would I think that for anybody? Anybody that isn't me? That is what she accused in the woods, isn't it?
God, I sound crazy.
The storm clouds rolled above us as we drove down the road. Thick raindrops splattered against my windshield in a symphony of pings and patters that soothed my fried nerve endings. She watched the trees zoom past her window with a bouncing knee.
"What are you going to ask the neighbors?" I asked to fill the tense silence between us.
She shrugged without looking away from the glass. "I guess I'll just see if they saw anything. I'll keep an eye out for any mounted security cameras. I'll do the whole 'do you know anybody who would want him dead' bit like I imagine you would do." The way she said that in a horrible imitation of my voice made me grin.
"I would say it much sexier than that, but I think you'll do just fine," I chuckled.
She finally turned to look at me and I felt my skin flush under my clothes under her stare. "And what are you going to ask the shopkeepers?"
I subtly rubbed a sweaty palm on my jeans. "I'll ask if they supply orange roses. If not, maybe they'll know which shop does. Hopefully it isn't completely pouring on our missions. Which reminds me—take this," I swung an arm back behind our seats and snatched a black zip up hoodie from the bench before tossing it into her lap.
She poked at the fabric with furrowed brows. "What will you wear against the rain?"
"I got it covered, put it on." In truth, I only had my black leather jacket that was collared without a hood, but I would manage. She slipped the hoodie around her shoulders and shoved her arms through. It was big and baggy on her small frame and the sleeves fell past her hands. I tried to hide a smirk.
A dejected sigh made its way from her lips. "I need you to tell me if I look ridiculous."
My brows furrowed as I looked at her. "Never." The word left in a whisper that I admit seemed to come out more intimately than I meant to reveal. I cleared my throat before focusing back on the road.
"Thank you," she murmured behind her red curtain once more.
Thompson's neighborhood was only a few blocks from Apollo Park. Old houses on cracked foundations framed both sides of the street, none of which seemed to have surveillance of any kind at first glance. I was already regretting sending Clary on the investigation.
We pulled up to Thompson's house—a quaint two bedroom house with dull yellow paint covering the shiplap panels. Yellow police tape framed off the perimeter of the lawn, but I was already informed that they didn't find anything of value there. I threw my car into park and we stared at the neighboring houses in an attempt to collect as much visual information as possible.
"Don't overcomplicate the questioning, but always assume everybody is a suspect so don't tell them anything of importance, like the flower. Just find out what they saw and if they have anything of merit. Then give me a call when you're done," I explained, trying to catch her eyes. She twisted her lips in frustration and tugged on the hoodie sleeves. "I mean it, princess. Call me when you're done, don't run off. Swear it."
She gaped at me incredulously but slumped back against the bench. "Fine," she mumbled. I raised my eyebrow expectantly, earning an exasperated sigh. "I swear I'll call you."
"Good," I said quickly and tapped under her chin playfully before opening my car door and stepping into the rain. Droplets began seeping into my hair faster than I expected and I found myself satisfied with giving Clary my hoodie to stay dry. The passenger door opened to let the spitfire out from the seat but she hadn't put her hood up.
I parted her hair at the nape of her neck, pulled the length forward to lay against her chest, and tugged the hood up over her head in a gesture that was meant to be friendly but made my chest tighten. Her cheeks pinked lightly.
"Thank you," she mumbled again and wiped raindrops from her forehead with the long sleeves.
Fucksake, she was cute.
"Don't mention it." I smirked and shoved my hands into my pockets to refrain from touching her again. "Call me if you find anything or if you start to feel uncomfortable."
She nodded and sidestepped around me across the devil's strip of grass to the wet sidewalk. One last glance and a nervous smile in my direction was all she gave as she made her way up the walkway to the neighbors front door.
I quickly took my leave with the idea in mind that the faster I did my own investigating, the faster I would have her in my sight again.
For her safety, of course.
The nearest flower shop that seemed like a good start was only two miles from the scene. I had a fairly decent feeling about this shop. How hard could finding an orange rose be? I raked my waterlogged hair back with my fingers.
The door opened with a ring of its dainty bell bolted above the threshold. I was immediately hit with the intense smell of dirt and a sweet mixture of flowers. I had to admit, I was a bit out of my comfort zone with this, just like Clary was with her own investigation. A flowery breath filled my lungs as I walked forward, studying the copious amounts of petals colored by the rainbow. The colors were stark against the dull gray sky of Salem through the windows, exactly the same as a certain redhead I know.
A shopkeeper stood up from behind a mound of bouquets, brushing her knees of soil and smoothing her violet apron of wrinkles. Her head snapped up to me as if she hadn't heard the bell ring. "Oh, hey, sorry I was elbow deep in compost," she stammered nervously. "What can I help you with?"
I scratched the back of my neck without confidence. "You wouldn't happen to sell orange roses here, would you?"
"Uhm," she thought for a moment and did a quick spin in place. "Unfortunately, we don't supply roses in that color. Orange roses are actually fairly unusual for flower shops to have on-hand. They're typically special ordered since they have to be genetically bred, but I have some red and white ones over here." She pointed to a stand full of uselessly colored roses.
My brows stitched together. "You said 'genetically bred'? Why?"
"Orange isn't naturally occurring for the rose family—only white, red, and shades of pink, so shops tend to stay away from them altogether since the profit just isn't worth the hassle. I'm assuming your girlfriend's favorite color is orange?" She chuckled and fluffed some petals of surrounding flowers.
"Right, right," I deflected. "So, you haven't heard of any special orders coming through even for other shops?" I twisted a soft petal between my fingers.
She frowned. "Nope. An order like that would definitely circulate through our community asking for availability."
That was disappointing. I guess we hit yet another dead end. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets with a shrug and looked around.
Women love flowers, Clary had chided.
"What would you recommend for someone who is…intricate? Complex, maybe, but also beautiful." I stepped slowly through the aisles, my boots crunching on fallen leaves and petals of wilted flowers.
"In orange?" she asked, slipping her hands into her apron pockets in thought.
I ate a candy. "Pink, preferably. She seems to favor that color most."
She walked over to a pot of pink flowers that seemed to have a million round petals in the form of a pouf. "This is a pink dahlia. It represents beauty and I'd say it looks very complex. Here," she said and cut the flower halfway down its stem before handing it to me over the row of flowers. I twisted the stem in my fingers to get a full view of the trippy petals. It was exactly how she had described—equally complex and beautiful, just like Clary.
"This is perfect. How much do I owe you?" I asked and reached into my jacket pocket for my wallet.
But her gaze flicked down to my belt where my badge glinted in the fluorescent lights. "Don't worry about it, officer. It's on the house." She gave a polite smile but I felt guilty.
"Are you sure? I really don't mind—"
A dirt stained hand raised, cutting off my words. "I insist. She must be really special." She gave one last smile and a wave before turning around and striding off to tend to another table of flowers.
I carefully tucked the flower into my jacket's inner chest pocket. "Thank you," I called before rushing back out into the pummeling rain with excitement nipping at my heels like a school boy with a crush.