by Gerri Hill
Those feelings never came and Michael never woke, so she slipped away from him, rolling to her side and staring at the wall, wondering what she was going to do.
And now, after a hectic day of interviewing those who had called in Peeping Tom reports from the two murders, hoping to get a description, she and Casey had called off their impromptu stakeout of the apartments. One reason being they had no concrete description of their guy. In fact, three had even insisted it was a girl. So they’d decided to compile all of their interviews tomorrow and see if they could come up with something, calling it an early day. And so on the drive home, she’d fought with herself over what she should and should not talk to Michael about. For one thing, she couldn’t just say she was having second thoughts. He would never understand that. If you’re having second thoughts, you don’t accept a wedding proposal, you don’t move in together.
She slipped the key in, unlocking the door, and paused again. And why was she just now having second thoughts? She tilted her head, trying to recall what had prompted those feelings. Was it simply Casey asking direct questions and she answering them truthfully? It dawned on her then that that could very well be the truth. She had no close girlfriends in her life. She had no one she talked to about her feelings. There was her job and there was Michael. And when Michael was off with his friends, she didn’t fill the time with another person—a best friend—she filled it by being alone. But now, another woman had asked her direct relationship questions and she’d answered just as directly. And the doubts had crept in.
She took a deep breath, shoving the door open. She was tired and her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Now was not the time to have a talk.
“I’m home,” she called, surprised there was no TV blaring. Instead, enticing smells were coming from the kitchen.
“In here.”
She poked her head in, seeing Michael hovering over the stove. “What in the world are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m cooking.”
“That’s just it. You don’t cook.”
“Meatloaf.”
Leslie’s eyebrows shot up. “Meatloaf? You made meatloaf?”
“Well, my mother made meatloaf. She just brought it over for me to bake. I’ve got green beans here,” he said, pointing to the pot on the stove. “And a salad in the fridge.”
“So, Rebecca’s coming over for dinner?”
“Oh, no. She just brought this by.” He turned and grinned. “I think she’s hinting that we need to cook more instead of eating out.”
“Great. It could be a new hobby for you. It smells wonderful,” she added as she walked away.
And minutes later, instead of having to decide between take-out, fast food or a sit-down meal in a restaurant, they were sitting at their own table having dinner. Which struck her as funny. The only time they used the table was when his mother was over. And that involved ordering take-out and hurrying home to set the table before she got there. Now, here they were, feasting on a meal Rebecca had cooked, sitting properly at the table sipping wine instead of on the couch watching TV or surfing the net on their laptops, or Michael eating in the spare room while he watched a game. No, here they were, practically like normal people. Normal married people.
But she wondered if conversation was this sparse between married people. Surely, they had something they could talk about. And Michael was the one who surprised her by starting the conversation.
“You haven’t said a whole lot about your new job. Are you liking it okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“Well, when you were in Fort Worth, you mostly complained about how they treated you. And when you first transferred over here to Assault, you talked about how different it was, then about how bored you were. Now, you finally get to where you want, but you haven’t said much about it.”
She frowned, not realizing it, but it was true. She had said very little. Which was surprising, considering how at ease she felt with her new team. “I like it here a lot,” she said. “They’re very nice. It’s a relaxed atmosphere. And there aren’t any good old boys there. Not even Lieutenant Malone.”
“What about your new partner? I know how important it is to you that you click.”
Leslie smiled. “Yeah. And Casey is great. She’s from Special Victims. She’s only been in Homicide a few months.”
“She? I thought it was a guy. You’ve never been paired with another woman before. Is that safe?”
“Safe?” Leslie put her fork down. “Like, because she’s a woman she’s not a good cop?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…you know, if something came up and you had to use a gun or something, it’d probably be better if at least one of you was a guy.”
Leslie laughed, although it was totally devoid of humor. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe you just said that. I do know how to use my weapon, you know. It’s required, whether you’re male or female.”
“You’re getting defensive because you’re taking my statement wrong. I in no way meant that you were an inferior cop because you’re a woman. I was simply being a man,” he said with a smile. “And men are the protectors.”
Leslie’s smile faded. “If you think you’re smoothing things over with that last statement, forget it. You’re digging your hole deeper.”
“Oh, come on. This isn’t Cagney and Lacey. There aren’t any women’s issues you have to fight with me. I know you’re a good cop,” he said. “But how do we know if this Casey person is?”
Leslie stared at him, feeling a frown cross her face but unable to stop it. How did he know she was a good cop? Because she had a handful of commendations? Because she was still alive? Because why? He wasn’t really involved in her job. He rarely made it a point to get to know her partners or her team. He didn’t attend any of the functions. How did he know she was a good cop?
“What?”
She blinked several times, clearing her mind. “Hmm?”
“You were staring like I’d said something wrong again.”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Well then?”
Although her appetite had fled, she picked up her fork again, pushing the meatloaf around on her plate. “I’m sure Casey and I will be fine together. In fact, I feel honored that they paired us, considering she has so little experience. That means they were impressed with my Fort Worth record.”
“In other words, I shouldn’t be concerned with it.”
“Exactly.”
And so their dinner ended, with Michael going into the spare room and shutting the door firmly, the TV soon ripe with the sounds of a video game while she cleaned up the kitchen and put away the leftover meatloaf.
She escaped into the bathroom, filling the tub with hot water and bubbles, wondering why her life suddenly seemed so empty. The man she planned to marry was in the next room, spending his time with a game and most likely a chat on his cell with Jeff. She wondered what he would choose if she invited him to join her in a bubble bath. She smiled wryly. Most likely the game.
Didn’t matter. She preferred to be alone. She stripped where she stood, then stepped into the warm water, sinking down to her neck as bubbles surrounded her.
“Heaven,” she murmured as her eyes closed. She pushed her thoughts away, choosing instead to lose herself as the warm water enveloped her.
Chapter Eleven
Casey juggled four cups of coffee as she hurried into the squad room, stopping up short at Sikes’s vacant desk.
“I finally stop for coffee and he’s not here?” She handed Tori her cup, accepting her smile as a thank you. “Les, since I didn’t know your favorite, I took a chance on mocha. I mean, everyone likes mocha, right?”
“Good job, O’Connor. That actually is my favorite.”
“Cool, I scored points.” She turned on her computer before sitting down, then glanced at Tori. “Anything new?”
“There was a Peeping Tom report last night.”
“No kid
ding. Where?”
“Twin Gables.”
Casey looked at Leslie and winked. “Twin Peaks.”
“Anyway, by the time patrol got there, our guy was gone. Sikes is interviewing the woman who called it in.”
“So maybe it’s time we do surveillance for real. I mean, that’s how it started before. We can concentrate on that area. Beef up patrol maybe,” she suggested.
Leslie shook her head. “But if we have patrol units cruise by more, that might scare off our guy. He may move somewhere else and lessen our chance to nab him while his offense is only peeping.”
Tori nodded. “I agree. And let’s see if Sikes can get a good description. Because what you guys got yesterday sucked.”
“I swear, three people said it was a woman,” Casey said.
“Try convincing Mac that a woman left semen behind.”
Casey looked at Leslie and grinned. “She’s in good humor this morning. Did you have a real nice evening, Hunter?”
“Probably better than yours, O’Connor.”
“Oh, now you’re just being mean.”
“Yeah, that was low. And Sam’s coming by after work. She’s in the mood for Mexican food. She said to invite you.”
“Okay, sure. You know me and margaritas.” Casey turned to Leslie. “I’d invite you to come with us, but I guess Michael would be at home waiting.”
“Actually, he’s out with his buddies tonight.”
“Great. Then why don’t you join us?” Casey arched an eyebrow at Tori.
“Yes, join us. Sam would love to meet you.”
Leslie looked from one to the other, then nodded. “Okay, thanks. I’d love to.”
“Good.” Casey motioned to her monitor. “Why don’t you pull up that map thing you did? Isn’t this the first call from Twin Gables?”
“I think so.”
Casey stood behind her, waiting. “It’s obviously in our target area since we were cruising by it the other night.”
“So, taking into account both murder scenes and the Peeping Tom calls, we have an eight-block radius?” Tori asked.
“Yes. And what I find odd,” Leslie said, “is that he’s targeting apartments so close to the downtown area, where it’s more congested. Why not apartments on a major highway where you have more escape routes?”
“That’s true. I mean we saw the other night, parking is limited. Where does he stash his car? How far does he walk to get to his target?”
“Both murders were at conventional apartments, with ground floor windows.”
“And outside entry,” Casey said. “Most of the refurbished apartments in downtown have a central entry. The newer ones have gated entry. That would be harder for our guy to get in.”
“But the apartments that he’s targeting, he has more choices,” Tori said. “And it’s right at the edge of Deep Ellum. Maybe he doesn’t use a car. Maybe it’s all on foot.”
“And easy to disappear in Deep Ellum.”
“I’ve only been to Deep Ellum a handful of times,” Leslie said. “But during the week, there’s not a lot of street traffic, is there?”
“Certainly not like on weekends, no. And even then, it’s tamed a bit. A lot of the clubs and restaurants have closed down in the last several years. But there’s still enough people walking the streets, going from bar to bar, for him to blend in with,” Tori explained.
“Okay. So what’s the plan?” Leslie asked.
Casey squeezed her shoulder as she walked behind her, then pointed to the monitor again. “Since you’re so good with that thing, how about a spreadsheet or something of all the apartments in that eight-block radius? Then we can set some guidelines. Which ones have outside entry? How many floors are there? Which ones have those tiny patios? Ground floor windows? Things like that.” She went to her desk but stopped when fingers wrapped around her arm.
“I’ll do the spreadsheet, but let’s drive the area later. It’ll be much easier to log all this information in the daylight instead of trying to figure it out at night while we cruise by.”
Casey was conscious of the fingers still clinging to her arm, and she was conscious of Tori watching them. For some reason, the touch on her arm made her shiver. She nodded, trying to find her voice. “Sounds good to me.” The hand finally slipped away and she moved again, glancing briefly at Tori who still stared.
Casey splashed water on her face, then looked up as the door to the ladies’ room opened and Tori stuck her head in. Their eyes met in the mirror.
“What’s up?”
Tori grinned. “Been a week, huh?”
“A week?”
“With your new partner.”
“Oh.” Casey reached for the towels and pulled two out, drying her face. “Yeah. A week.”
“Watching you two out there, it reminded me of Sam.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Sam first got here, it used to drive me crazy. She would always touch me when she talked to me.” Tori laughed slightly. “But you’re different than me. You touch too.”
Casey frowned. “I do not.”
“You probably don’t even realize it.” Tori walked past and into one of the stalls. “It’s kinda cute.”
Casey met her own eyes in the mirror. “It would help if she was frumpy, you know.”
“Yeah. Frumpy. And what was the other word you used?”
Casey smiled at her reflection. “Portly.”
Chapter Twelve
“Trust me, Casey is the margarita expert,” Sam said with a laugh.
“I have sampled my share of margaritas, yes. And the Rios Rita is the very best.”
“Well, then I’ll have to try one,” Leslie said, looking at her menu. “What’s the specialty here?”
“Chicken enchiladas,” they said in unison and Leslie laughed.
“I see you come here quite often.”
“Casey refuses to eat Mexican food anywhere else,” Tori said.
“Yeah, but with you, I hardly get margaritas anymore.” Casey turned to Leslie. “Tori doesn’t drink much, and when she does, it’s beer. And on a hot summer day when we’re out on the boat fishing, that’s fine, but even now when we go out for a drink after work, she’s got me ordering beer. So tonight, I get to indulge.”
“Who’s got a boat?”
“Sam and I do,” Tori said. “It’s a cabin cruiser we keep out on Eagle Mountain Lake.”
“They let me tag along sometimes,” Casey said. “There’s nothing better than pulling into a cove and fishing all day, then spending the night on the water.” She laughed. “Of course, that’s if we can talk Sam into cooking for us.”
“Well, I think it’s great that you guys do stuff outside of work. I’ve never had that in all my years on the force. In Fort Worth, well, I was the only woman and I think the guys either wanted to protect me because I reminded them of their daughters, or they thought I was there to make sure the coffeepot was always full.”
“There are a few old-timers who think that way,” Sam said. “But for the most part, we don’t have that stigma. It’s all very gender fair.” She touched Tori’s arm. “Not that Tori hasn’t had her share of run-ins.”
Leslie nodded. “I’ve heard some of the stories.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Tori said.
“Yeah. Only about ninety percent of it is true,” Casey said with a laugh, then turned at a touch on her arm. “Fran,” she said, standing to greet the older woman.
“If it isn’t my favorite police detective.” She smiled warmly at them. “And I see you bring your good friends. Hello, Tori and Sam.”
“Hi, Francesca.”
“You are crammed in a tiny booth, Casey? Why didn’t you come get me? I could have found a table for you.”
“Tori and Sam like the booth. See how close they can sit?”
Leslie couldn’t help but smile as a blush crossed Tori’s face, but Sam simply leaned closer to her, completely at ease.
Casey stepped back. “A
nd this is Leslie Tucker.”
“Oh, yes. How do you do, Leslie Tucker? I am always so happy when Casey brings a lady friend around. You are very lovely,” she said, taking Leslie’s hand. “Casey can be a handful. Don’t let her scare you off.” She winked. “She is a good catch, they say.”
Leslie raised an eyebrow, then smiled as Casey’s face turned a cute red. For two tough cops, Casey and Tori sure embarrassed easily. “I’ll try to keep her in check.”
“Drinks are on the house.” She turned, clapping her hands, and a waiter appeared. “Keep my friends happy, Carlos.” She bowed in their direction. “Enjoy your meal, ladies. Tori and Sam, good to see you again. And, Leslie, make sure Casey brings you back soon.”
“I’m so sorry,” Casey whispered as she slid back in beside her.
“No problem.”
“You should have just shown her your ring.”
Leslie glanced at the diamond on her finger. It was obscenely large, in her opinion. She’d never been one for jewelry and stones. Even her earrings were simple diamond studs, nothing flashy. She remembered when Michael had given the ring to her. She’d been speechless. He’d assumed it was from delight—and awe—of the size. No. It was from the realization that she’d have to wear the thing. She’d gotten used to it and hardly gave it a thought anymore, but for some reason, it seemed to mock her this evening, so she slipped her hand under the table and out of sight.
“What can I get you to drink, ladies?”
“Three Rios Ritas,” Casey said. “And a beer for Tori.”
“A Corona,” Tori said.
“Excellent. Chips and salsa will be right out.”
“I hope Fran didn’t make you uncomfortable,” Sam said. “She’s always playing matchmaker with Casey.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“I understand you’re engaged.” Sam smiled. “I don’t know how it is with you, but when I was dating Robert, he thought being a female cop had to be the most dangerous job on the planet.”
