by Jae
Aiden thought back to the last Thanksgiving dinner she had spent with Ray and his family. His kids were free to express their opinion with the adults, but there were unspoken boundaries that mustn't be crossed.
"What about your family? Were you the napkin-at-dinner kind?" Dawn asked.
Defense counsel's opening statement had ended by now, and the courtroom was almost silent for a few moments while he sat down. Judge Gilmartin's annoyed glance in the direction of the whispering women saved Aiden from telling Dawn that her family dinners had consisted of vodka for her mom and cornflakes for Aiden.
With a quick glance at her wristwatch, Aiden gestured to Dawn that she had to go and slipped out of the courtroom.
Dawn followed silently. "I don't think I'm quite ready to listen to the detailed description of another rape," she said in explanation.
Aiden turned up her jacket's collar when they left the building, gazing critically at Dawn's thin blazer, which couldn't protect her from the cool October wind. You're not her mother or her lover, she reprimanded herself. It's not your business to make sure she doesn't get cold.
Indecisively, they stood facing each other on the steps of the courthouse.
"So, are you off to serve and protect, or is this your day off?" Dawn stopped two steps above Aiden so they could talk face-to-face.
"It's back to work." Aiden stuffed her hands into the pockets of her coat. "And you? Going back home?"
Dawn nodded. "When you get back to the precinct, maybe you could take care of something for me."
Anything. For a moment, Aiden wasn't sure if she had said it out loud. "Yes?"
"My address is going to change soon. You should probably make a note in your records or something."
"You're moving out of your old apartment." It didn't come as a surprise for Aiden. Sooner or later every victim who had been raped in her home had searched for a new place, never again feeling safe in the old apartment.
A curt nod from Dawn. "It doesn't feel like a home anymore, and I don't want to stay at my mother's for much longer. I love her, but I'm twenty-eight, and I don't want to live with her for more than a few weeks. I'm looking at some apartments this afternoon."
Another crossroad opened up in front of Aiden. Should she just nod and promise to write down the change of address or offer to help Dawn find a new home where she could feel safe? Are you out of your damn mind? You want to go apartment hunting with her? What's next, wanting to move in with her? After a few seconds of hesitation, she allowed herself to compromise. "Listen. I'm not sure if your old apartment has been released yet or if it's still taped off as a crime scene. If you need any help with that or you want someone to go with you when you go to the old apartment to get some of the furniture..." It would only be for security reasons, she told herself. Sometimes, offenders do come back to the crime scene.
"Detective, I don't expect you to –"
"Please do," Aiden said before she could talk herself out of it. "Please expect me to be there for you when you need me to, okay?" A part of her was glad that she had said it, another part wanted to take it back immediately.
For a long time, Dawn looked at her without saying anything. Perhaps she sensed Aiden's hesitancy, her conflicting emotions, because she appeared to be equally hesitant in accepting the offer. Then she drew her blazer tighter around her small shoulders and nodded. "Thank you."
CHAPTER 10
"HELLO, PLEASE come in, Detective." Grace Kinsley opened the door wider. "Dawn's still on the phone with the electric company."
As Aiden entered, she wondered what Dawn's mother might think about her continuing visits in her home. Did she find it odd that a Portland police detective was helping her daughter move into her new apartment? Did she sense Aiden's attraction to Dawn just as she had immediately known Aiden was a cop?
Without many words, Grace Kinsley led her into the kitchen, handed her a cup of black, unsweetened coffee, and leaned against the kitchen counter, studying her.
"How did you immediately recognize me as a cop when you first saw me?" Aiden asked to distract Mrs. Kinsley from her scrutiny and to assess if her powers of observation were restricted to copdar or if they included gaydar, too.
"I was married to a cop for almost twenty years; I should know a cop when I see one," Grace Kinsley said, smiling wistfully.
Aiden kept her questioning gaze directed at her.
Grace shrugged. "It's the body language."
"Body language?" Aiden snorted into her coffee. What is it with those Kinsley women and body language? she wondered.
"Yes." Dawn's mother stared pensively into her own cup of coffee. "I think my husband used to call it command presence: You walk with a purposeful stride, your head held high, always aware of your surroundings; you speak in a strong voice, and you stand in a wide stance, not afraid to appear unfeminine by commanding the space around you. And you stand to the side of my apartment door when you're knocking to be safe from any bullets that might be fired at you from inside the apartment."
Aiden stared at her. "I do that?"
"You do." Grace Kinsley smiled almost affectionately. She gestured toward Aiden. "You also stand facing the door to get a good view of the dangerous criminals that might inhabit my home."
"Sorry," Aiden said.
Grace shook her head. "Don't apologize. It's what keeps you alive in your job, and after a while, it becomes instinct."
Twenty years of marriage had taught Mrs. Kinsley a lot about police officers and the dangers they faced, and Aiden was sure that she would never want to see her daughter in a relationship with a cop.
"Hey." Dawn entered and laid the cordless phone on the kitchen table. She smiled at Aiden. "You're very punctual, Detective."
Aiden almost told Dawn to call her by her given name but held herself back from crossing that line.
The doorbell rang, making Dawn jerk. She didn't move to open the door but let her mother do it.
Grace came back with a slightly overweight woman in her mid-forties in tow. "Hey, girl." The stranger headed immediately for Dawn and gave her a gentle hug. "How are you?"
"I'm fine... considering the circumstances." Dawn stepped back after allowing the hug for a moment. "I'll be better when this day is over and I never have to see that apartment again." She wasn't afraid to express her feelings, and Aiden admired her for that. "Oh, Ally, this is Detective Carlisle. Detective, this is Allison Barry, one of the psychologists I'm sharing my office with. She offered to help me move, too."
If Allison Barry wondered whether the Portland Police Bureau offered moving services now, she never showed it. She nodded and took Aiden's hand in a warm grip. "Offered?" The other psychologist raised a brow and grinned at Dawn. "More like I was being roped into helping by the offer to cook me dinner afterward. You know I can't resist your cooking, Dawn Kinsley." She turned to Aiden and explained, "She can cook like a goddess."
"Goddesses don't cook," Dawn objected. "They have their people do it for them."
The ringing doorbell interrupted them once again. A thin man with a receding hairline and laughing blue eyes was led into the apartment by Grace Kinsley. The newcomer didn't try to hug Dawn, earning him Aiden's immediate respect. He gently squeezed Dawn's shoulder and asked the same question Allison Barry had: "How are you?"
Aiden – and any other cop – would have answered with a joke about writing the answer to that question down on a big piece of paper so she wouldn't have to repeat herself, but Dawn answered with the same honest words as before.
"Detective, this is my other colleague, Charles Rosenbloom. Charlie, this is Detective Carlisle."
Aiden shook his hand with increasing discomfort. God, I'm going to spend the day with three psychologists. I'm doomed!
If Dawn's male colleague wondered about Aiden's presence, he didn't show it either. Aiden really would have liked to know what Dawn might have told them about her.
Grace Kinsley started packing thermoses of coffee and tea, giving out work gloves,
and herding helpers out the door.
Everyone seemed enthusiastic and in a good mood during the drive uptown, but when the cars stopped and they walked up to Dawn's apartment building, they all grew quiet and shortened their steps, not knowing who should enter the apartment first as a pale Dawn rummaged in her pocket for the key.
Aiden stepped closer and leaned down so that no one but Dawn could hear. "Do you want to stay outside, maybe drive to the new apartment while we –"
"No," Dawn interrupted. "It's kind of you to offer, but I think this is something I need to do. If I dodge the last opportunity to enter the apartment, I'll never know if I could have done it."
Aiden nodded and wanted to step back, but Dawn's fingers closed around her wrist. "Stay close, please?"
"I'm right beside you," Aiden promised, practically plastering herself against Dawn's back while Dawn opened the door.
No one spoke while they climbed the stairs. Dawn squared her shoulders as she opened the apartment door and strode inside.
Aiden saw Dawn's colleagues exchange worried glances. Seems like they think Dawn's throwing herself into things a little too fast and not dealing with all the emotional stuff, too, huh?
In the middle of the living room, her resolution seemed to leave Dawn, and her steps faltered. Her glance wandered to the bedroom door.
"Okay." Aiden slapped her work gloves against her thigh. "How about you and your mom pack the dishes and the other household stuff, and we take care of dismantling the furniture?" That way, Dawn didn't need to enter the bedroom if she didn't want to.
A hard, impatient knock on the front door made Dawn jump and take a step back.
"Do you expect anyone else trying to earn one of your home-cooked meals?" Aiden asked.
Dawn shook her head. She nervously eyed the door.
Aiden stepped past her. Her right hand moved to her hip, only to find the place where her gun normally rested empty. She stood to the side of the door and gestured for Dawn's colleagues to move back before she opened it.
A tall man with windblown brown hair glowered down at Aiden. "Who the hell are you?" he shouted. "Where is Dawn?"
Aiden kept blocking the door, never moving an inch. "Who are you?" she demanded to know.
"I'm her husband."
Husband? Dawn is married? Aiden could only stare at the angry man.
A small hand softly touched her back. "Ex-husband," Dawn corrected. "What do you want, Cal?"
"Why didn't you tell me? I had to hear it through the precinct grapevine. I'll kill the goddamn bastard who did this to you!" Dawn's ex-husband was raging uncontrolled, making Dawn take another step away from him.
Three things suddenly occurred to Aiden: Dawn's ex was a cop, and he had just now heard about the rape, and now he was scaring Dawn with his righteous anger. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Outside." She directed an unyielding stare at him.
"Who is she?" The ex demanded to know, pointing a finger at Aiden.
Aiden stretched herself to her full five foot ten inches. Her leather jacket creaked as she squared her shoulders. Down, girl, she stopped herself. This is not a pissing contest between two cops trying to mark their territory. This is about Dawn – or at least it should be. She held herself back and let Dawn decide if and how to answer.
"This is Detective Carlisle." Dawn looked at Aiden before she added, "A friend of mine."
Aiden knew that she would always be proud to be called friend by a woman like Dawn, but at the same time Dawn's words started the guilty internal debate about acceptable professional behavior again. Knowing she wouldn't resolve this particular dilemma anytime soon, she turned back to Dawn's ex-husband.
"Caleb Montgomery," he grudgingly said. "What's going on in here?" He looked from Dawn to Aiden.
"I'm moving into a new apartment," Dawn said.
"Hmm." Caleb Montgomery assessed the four women and the skinny Charlie Rosenbloom with a critical glance. "Looks like you could use a little help."
"Sure, we could use the help," Dawn answered, looking him right in the eye, "but we can do without the patronizing comments."
Damn, I like this woman. She doesn't take shit from anyone. Aiden bit her lip to keep from laughing or applauding the feisty psychologist.
Caleb Montgomery wordlessly picked up one of the screwdrivers lying around and looked at Aiden. "Bedroom, you and me?"
"Ha! In your dreams," Aiden mumbled under her breath but nodded. This way, she could at least talk to him without Dawn overhearing every word.
They moved into the bedroom, and Aiden watched him take in the room where his ex-wife had been raped. Clenching his jaw, he threw off the mattress and started to work on taking down the bed's headboard. His movements were angry and uncontrolled, making the screwdriver scratch over the wood.
"She lived through enough violence that night," Aiden said softly but with a steely resolve. "Don't scare her any further, okay? She doesn't need your anger or your hateful tirades of revenge against an unknown rapist. She needs your support."
Caleb Montgomery looked up from his work. "You with the Sexual Assault Detail or something, Carlisle?"
Aiden nodded and held his gaze. "You have something against that?"
"No. We can't all be real cops." His grin took the sting out of the words.
"Not only a real cop but a real comedian, too, huh?" Aiden took off her leather jacket and pushed up the sleeves of her old PPB sweatshirt. She started loosening the screws on the other side of the headboard.
"So..." Caleb's hazel eyes were close to her own, both of them leaning over the headboard so they could see the screw heads. "How do you know Dawn?"
Is that "real cop" speak for "Are you sleeping with my ex-wife, Detective?"? Aiden wondered. "I met her at a seminar a few weeks ago. My partner and I, we're investigating her rape case." She was hesitant to admit it but didn't want to lie.
Caleb Montgomery straightened. He looked down at Aiden with an incredulous expression. "You're the investigator in her case, and you offered to help her move into a new apartment? Wow! Me and my colleagues, we wouldn't help a lady we're busting for speeding buy a new car."
Now it was Aiden who found herself becoming angry. "Your lead-footed ladies are breaking the law, but Dawn's not a perp. She's the victim. Don't you think she deserves a little help?"
"Okay, maybe it's not the best analogy I could have chosen," Caleb conceded, shrugging broad shoulders.
Silently, they both grabbed a side of the headboard and lifted it clear of the rest of the bed. It banged against the slatted frame already lying on the floor.
"No need to be careful with the bed," Aiden said. "I don't think she cares or even wants to know what happens with it."
"Goddammit! How could this happen to Dawn?" Caleb stared down at the half-dismantled bed. His frustrated helplessness channeled itself into anger. "Do you know who...?"
Aiden held up her hands. "I can't talk about an ongoing investigation; you know that." She might have crossed a few lines of professionalism in her effort to help Dawn deal with the aftermath of her rape, but she wasn't willing to break or bend the rules for anyone or anything else.
"I expect you to get him." The street cop pointed his index finger at Aiden. "We may be divorced, but I still care for her."
It was almost a declaration of love coming from a cop. Most of her colleagues weren't big on public displays of affection or eager to discuss their emotions. Aiden wondered why they had gotten a divorce. Or why they got married in the first place. She supposed he was a decent guy when his anger calmed down, but he didn't seem like a perfect match to Dawn. Oh, yeah? And who would this perfect match be – you? Aiden mocked herself.
Caleb moved to one of the bookcases and grunted when he tried to push it to the side. "Three damn shrinks in the house, you'd think one of them could shrink all this heavy furniture we have to heave down the stairs into a more maneuverable size."
Laughing, Aiden went to help him with the bookcase.
* * *
Aiden stood next to Dawn on the sidewalk in front of her old apartment building, her arms limply hanging down at her sides. The muscles in her arms and back protested the heavy lifting she had done all day long – not that she would ever admit that. They had just carried down the last of the packed boxes while the rest of the moving team took another trip to Dawn's new condo.
Aiden had checked out Dawn's new home thoroughly, testing out the two locks on the door and experimentally shaking the bars in front of the windows. Finally, she had nodded in satisfaction. The fifth-floor apartment had recently been renovated and was up to the newest security standards. It also didn't hurt that the new apartment was close to the Justice Center, which housed the Portland Police Bureau headquarters, the central precinct, and some offices of the Multnomah County District Attorney, ensuring a constant police presence in the neighborhood.
