Gerri Hill - Partners

by Gerri Hill

  Leslie laughed. "That you talk too much and you're full of questions."

  "Oh, I see. Markie had to fill you in, didn't he?"

  "Yeah, he did. He also said no matter what people tried to hide from you, you could dig it out. I'm pretty sure that was a compliment."

  "I haven't seen Markie in a while. I swear, talking to him was like talking to a rock."

  "Maybe that's why he thought you talked too much. He doesn't talk at all."

  "I'm inquisitive."

  "So I see."

  "Yeah. And is your mother pushing you to get married like Michael's mother is?"

  "Oh, same question, different wording. Do you always do that?"

  "Do what?"

  "Keep asking until you get an answer."

  Casey shrugged. "I'm a detective."

  "A curious one at that."

  Casey waited what she thought was an appropriate amount of time, then turned. "Your mother doesn't like Michael, does she?"

  Laughing, Leslie held up her hands. "Okay, you win. I'll talk."

  "Mother?"

  "She doesn't know I'm engaged."

  "Why the hell not?"

  "We're not close."

  "That's not an excuse. Half of every mother-daughter relationship could be explained the same way. Try again."

  Leslie leaned her head back with a sigh. "My mother is...well, she's different. When I was in high school, my father took up with his secretary. He left us. And my mother went off the deep end. After their divorce, she started dating younger men. Much younger. Parties, drugs, she did it all, as if she was reliving college or something. She's been married four times since then. Currently, she's living with a guy six years younger than me. So we don't really have a relationship anymore." She turned in her seat. "And Michael's mother is just the opposite. She was widowed at an early age, yet never remarried. She still wears her wedding ring. She's very conservative and reserved. A normal mother. I would be embarrassed for the two of them to meet."

  "And your dad?"

  "It's strained. Always has been. He's still with the same woman though, I'll give him that."

  "But you're not close with him either?"

  "Not really, no. I mean, I see him more than my mother, but it's just very forced. And he still calls me on my birthday, things like that." She paused. "He has two kids with this woman, so I think he just calls me out of obligation, you know."

  "Does he know you're getting married?"

  "He knows I'm engaged, yes."

  "So he's--"

  "Enough." Leslie turned in her seat, tucking her dark hair behind her ears in a gesture Casey noticed she did before speaking. "My turn."

  "Your turn?" Casey tapped her leg nervously. She'd always been curious about other people and their lives. She'd always been full of questions. But when others wanted to reciprocate, she clammed up. She didn't have a happy childhood, she didn't have memorable teenage years, she never had the typical American family. Dysfunctional was even too mild a word to use to describe her family. And as she'd grown into adulthood, not a lot had changed.

  "You said you're not dating anyone, so let's back up. Mother?"

  Casey nodded. "Yes."

  "Yes? That's all I get?"

  "She's in California now. I don't see her."

  "Okay. Father?"

  Casey shook her head. "No. Deceased."

  "I'm sorry."

  "No, no. He wasn't a part of my life. They divorced when I was a child. Nasty divorce. And anyway, he died years ago."

  "Okay, so siblings?"

  "Not really."

  "That's more of a yes or no question. Either you do or you don't."

  Casey smiled. "Okay, I'll go with no then."

  Leslie stared at her. "I just told you about my crazy mother. I doubt you can top that."

  "No. But it's...it's painful. I don't think about it much. I talk about it even less," she admitted.

  "Okay, I'm sorry. That's fair enough. And it's not like we really know each other well enough to share those kinds of things."

  Casey laughed quietly. "She says after she's already told about her crazy mother."

  Leslie laughed too. "I didn't mean it that way. Really. I was being sincere. Some things you just don't tell to strangers."

  "Unless that stranger happens to be great at asking questions?"

  "Yes. But I've learned my lesson with you."

  Casey shifted in her seat, turning to face Leslie. "I do believe in getting to know my partners, though. I think it makes for a much stronger relationship. I know there are those where it is just work between them. They don't want to know about spouses and kids. I think that's crazy."

  "I agree. You spend so much time together, your relationship has to be about more than the job. You have to care about the other person. And if you know nothing about them or their life, it's hard to care."

  "Hard to care, yes. But it's just a defense mechanism. Especially in our line of work. If I don't get to know you as a person, if I don't know your husband and kids, then we're not really friends. So if you should get injured, or shot and killed, then I've only lost someone from the job. I've not lost a friend."

  Leslie smiled and touched her arm again. "You're speaking hypothetically, I know, but please don't mention me and shot and killed in the same sentence."

  "Sorry. And I've never lost a partner, so you should be safe."

  Leslie squeezed her arm, then released it. "Tell me why you're not dating anyone."

  "Ah, safer subject?"

  "Perhaps."

  Casey rolled her shoulders, loosening them. She hated sitting this long. "Nothing's happening here. Want to move on?"

  "Is that your way of avoiding the dating subject?"

  "No. I don't mind talking about my lack of a love life," Casey said with a grin, but she started the engine anyway. "What's next on the list? Twin Peaks?"

  Leslie laughed. "Twin Gables. Next block."

  "It's nearly ten. What's Michael doing that he didn't mind you being on a stakeout?"

  "He went to a Rangers game. Miles and Russell, two of his buddies, have season tickets. They usually invite Michael and Jeff as their dates."

  "These are the buddies who live in the same apartment complex as you?"

  "That's them."

  "So do their girlfriends and you all pal around together?"

  Leslie laughed. "What girlfriends? Miles and Russell don't date. Ever. In fact, I think they would make for a wonderful beer commercial. Jeff dates some, not much. I think the girls take one look at his game room and run." Her smile faded. "Unlike me, who stuck around."

  Casey drove through the parking lot, but the common area was hidden from view. She parked and cut the engine. "Feel like a walk?"

  "Sure."

  They closed their doors quietly and moved into the shadows between the buildings. The common area was mostly grassy, with a few mature trees. Four picnic tables and charcoal grills were positioned at each corner. In the middle was a volleyball net, the grass worn bare around it.

  Casey saw the man across the way as he, too, moved in the shadows. She grabbed Leslie's arm and pulled her closer, hiding them from his view.

  "I see him," Leslie whispered.

  They watched him as he moved quickly from shrub to shrub, hiding. He was making his way around the complex, heading in their direction. Suddenly he stopped and crouched low.

  "What's he doing?"

  Casey shook her head. "Don't know." Then they saw--and heard--a group of people heading to the volleyball court.

  "At this hour? I'd be pissed if I lived here," Leslie said.

  "Look at our guy."

  He stood, walking back the way he'd come, his hands shoved nonchalantly into his pockets as if he were just out on a stroll. He reached the sidewalk and disappeared behind the building.

  "Should we try to follow him?"

  "No. Let's drive around to that side. Maybe we can find him in his car and run the plates."

  But all was q
uiet when they reached the other side of the complex. No one walking about, no cars driving through, no lights on.

  "Of course, what are the chances he was even our guy to begin with?"

  "Slim," Casey said. "Like you said, needle in a haystack." Casey glanced at the clock. "Ready to call it a night?"

  "Yeah."

  Casey pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, the traffic light at this hour. "Where do you live?"

  "Nearly in Irving. Michael's office is just two blocks away."

  "That was the reason you transferred here? Malone said something about the commute to Fort Worth."

  "Yeah. We used to live in Arlington, but Michael's company relocated."

  "And he hated the drive?" Casey guessed.

  "Yes. And I know what you're thinking. His argument was that we'd see each other more if we lived in the same complex as his buddies because it would save him drive time."

  Casey groaned. "And you bought that?"

  "No. But I got tired of arguing about it. So I did the commute for five months, then applied at Dallas P.D."

  "And how does he feel about your job?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, some guys are either intimidated that their spouse is a cop, or they feel it's too dangerous a job for a female. Very few wholeheartedly accept it."

  "I'm not sure where he stands on it. I think to him, it's just what I do. I mean, I was a cop when we met. I think he's totally indifferent to it. Now his mother, she hates it. And I'm not sure if it's because she thinks it's dangerous, or because I use it as an excuse not to set a wedding date."

  "That's the excuse you're using?" Casey stopped at a light and turned to look at her. "Why do you need an excuse?"

  "It's not really an excuse. I mean, say I had a date set for this week and we were in the middle of a murder investigation. How thrilled would you be if I just took off for two weeks on a honeymoon?"

  "Well, not thrilled, yeah. But it's a fact of life. Other people get married all the time. We just have to make exceptions."

  "Okay, so maybe it's just a convenient excuse then."

  The light turned green and Casey drove on. "So back to my question, why do you need an excuse?"

  "Because it's a little late to say I'm not sure if I'm ready. I mean, I accepted his ring."

  Casey laughed. "So many gays and lesbians want the right to marry, but we've got it easy, I think."

  "Don't you wish you could get married?"

  "Oh, I don't know. It's not that important to me."

  "Maybe because you're not in a relationship."

  "Probably so. I mean, I look at Tori and Sam. I could see them getting married. Well, I could see Sam." She laughed, trying to picture Tori in a tux reciting her vows while people looked on. No, she could probably see them out on their boat, anchored in a favorite cove, both in shorts and swimsuits.

  "So tell me again why you're not dating anyone."

  "God, back to that question? Talk about not giving up."

  "I have told you practically my life story tonight. You need to give me some back."

  "And I just haven't met the right woman is not good enough?"

  "You're only going to meet her if you date, and you said you don't date."

  "I said I don't date much," Casey corrected with a sigh. "When I was younger, I didn't think so much about having that one person, you know. It was all fun and games and sex," she said, glancing quickly at Leslie. "And I was focused on my career. It was enough. I had lots of friends, it wasn't like I was alone. And I went through this phase where I thought it was time to settle down, so I tried it. I thought maybe she could have been the one. But she couldn't understand the job. She wanted me to get out. We lived together about a year and a half. The only time I've lived with a lover," Casey admitted. "But toward the end, it got pretty bad. That was when I decided I wouldn't live with anyone again until I was certain it was the real thing."

  "That still doesn't explain why you don't date."

  Casey turned to look at her. "I got tired of one-night stands. It became a chore. Meeting someone, making conversation, wondering if they expected you to sleep with them on the first date," she said with a laugh. "Or worse, thinking they did only to find out they didn't." She turned into their parking lot, pulling up beside Leslie's car. "That's not to say I don't want a relationship. I do. I'd like to fall in love. I'd like to have someone to come home to. I'd like to have that feeling where you look across a crowded room and can find her eyes on you and there be nothing but love there. And I'd like to know there was someone I was going to grow old with." She cut the engine, turning to look at Leslie. "I just haven't met her. And I don't think I'm going to meet her on a blind date or out at a bar. Those kinds of things are just so forced."

  Leslie smiled slightly. "I met Michael on a blind date. A friend of mine thought we would hit it off because we had so much in common. I remember thinking at the time we had nothing in common." Her smile disappeared. "Turned out to be true."

  "Then maybe it's a good idea you keep making excuses not to set a date."

  Leslie turned away, staring out the window. "I just realized what a predicament I'm in."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm engaged to be married to a man I don't want to marry."

  Casey said nothing, just sat there quietly. They'd known each other a few days, yet she suspected Leslie had shared more of her feelings tonight than she had in a very long time. Perhaps that's why it was such a revelation to her. She hadn't really said the words out loud before.

  Chapter Nine

  "God, that feels good," Tori groaned. "Harder."

  Sam laughed. "Why is it I never get the backrubs?"

  "Because you always try to turn it into more. I, on the other hand, love backrubs and don't associate them with sex."

  "But turning it into sex is a bad thing?"

  "No, not as long as I get my backrub first."

  Sam's hands squeezed harder and Tori bit her lip, her eyes rolling back in her head in pleasure. Sam had the best hands. She smiled into the pillow. Yeah, the best hands.

  "What are you smiling about?"

  "How do you know I'm smiling?"

  "I can tell."

  "Just smiling with pleasure, isn't that okay?"

  Sam squeezed harder. "You never said how Casey liked her new partner."

  "Okay. She seems nice. Cute as hell."

  "Cute? Oh, no. Poor Casey."

  "Yeah, poor Casey," Tori said with a laugh. "She was hoping she'd be portly or something."

  "She's straight?"

  "Yeah. Engaged."

  "So you guys get to go through a wedding?"

  "I suppose. Ouch."

  "You said harder."

  "I didn't mean to bruise me."

  "Sorry. Let me kiss it."

  Tori felt Sam's lips caress her neck and she closed her eyes. The backrub was over. She rolled, taking Sam with her, covering her with her weight. "I love you, you know."

  "Mmm."

  "Your turn."

  Sam smiled against her mouth. "It won't take long."

  Chapter Ten

  Leslie paused at the door to their apartment, wondering--again--whether she should have a talk with Michael, wondering if she should discuss her uncertainties with him. After last night, after she'd admitted to Casey--a perfect stranger--that she didn't want to get married, guilt had set in. She had tossed aside her questions, her doubts and her fears, and had crawled into bed beside Michael, had wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, trying to conjure up some feelings that resembled what Casey had called the I'm so in love I can't stand it feeling.

  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.