by Dale Mayer
As Simon made his way back to the building that he was looking at buying, he heard a voice in the background.
Do it.
He frowned, stopped, and looked around, trying to see who had said it. Finding nobody close to him, he finally muttered, “Do what?”
And there came the voice again.
Do it. A hoarse whisper, pushing him to do something.
He shook his head. “Well, I won’t do something just because you say so, asshole.”
And the voice came again. Do it. Just do it.
He frowned once more, not exactly sure who was talking or where the voice came from. And knowing he would likely experience more crippling visions—if that’s what this was—he went into a small park and sat down on a bench, slightly out of view from anybody, in case he fell unconscious for a moment. He was tired, but he wasn’t that tired that he would fall asleep outside.
Although he was more tired than expected, and that could be why this voice was creeping into his space. It was not anything that he was comfortable with. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind, sending the message to go away.
But instead the voice whispered, Come on. Just do it.
Simon shrugged. “You know what? You’re really pissing me off,” he muttered. “Go away.”
And he reached up mentally and slammed the door. Almost instantly a sense of peace entered his mind. Beaming, he hopped to his feet. “Got that fixed.” And he laughed. He kept on walking, feeling better, although in the back of his mind was that little concern because he had thought he was clear of all this psychic garbage. And it wasn’t garbage. He got that. But he didn’t want anything to do with it either. He kept on walking, and suddenly the door in his mind burst open again.
Do it! This time the voice was harder and stronger.
He frowned, froze, and looked around. “Do what?”
Chapter 4
Kate’s Thursday
After another long day, Kate had an ugly realization. She’d followed all the leads and had done everything she could on the recent drive-by shooting cases, and, when she finally closed the file and dropped it at the side of her desk with an ugly sigh, Rodney looked at her and said, “It happens that way sometimes.”
“It’s just so frustrating,” she muttered. “Somebody knows something.”
“Somebody always knows something,” he said, nodding his head. “But getting those people to talk, that’s a different story.”
“It’s about asking the right questions too. I mean, you think about everything that you could ask, and then you realize that maybe you need to frame the question in quite the right way. Maybe they didn’t realize what you were asking, and maybe they didn’t think of something else because of it,” she said. “It’s incredibly frustrating.”
He laughed. “It is, indeed,” he said, “and you’re not the first or the last person to find that out.”
“I know,” she said, with a groan. She looked at him. “I guess you didn’t come up with anything new.”
“Nope, I would have shared if I had,” he said cheerfully. “Go home. Take your mind off it. Maybe something will come to you then.”
She nodded, but her lips were in a grim line.
“I’m heading out now. Come on. I’ll walk with you to our cars.”
She thought about what he had said all the way home.
The atmosphere these days in the bullpen was completely different than when she had first started here as a detective, and that was good. The team had pulled together, compiling an incredible amount of work already and had solved all kinds of cases. It’s just that the crimes never let up, so there never seemed to be any end to it all, and that was frustrating too. She wanted to go home at the end of the day, satisfied with what she’d accomplished, but always had that uncertainty, wondering if she may have missed something else, something that she could have done more of, and that hurt.
The stress was real. As she rolled her neck and shoulders, while unlocking the door to her apartment, that thought immediately reminded her that she’d let her judo practices slide. She’d picked up an interest in it as a teen for that extra exercise and for the chance to kick ass somewhere. With that in mind, she quickly got dressed in her exercise gear and went back out again, walking to her favorite club.
When she walked in, her sensei looked at her, smiled, and said, “There you are. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She nodded. “I know,” she said. “I’m so sorry. But I need to be here tonight.”
“If nothing else,” he said quietly, instantly understanding the tension in her system, “it’s really good for stress relief.”
She smiled. “And that’s good because I could use some of that right now.”
He said, “Great. Let’s give it a hard run then.”
And a hard run it was.
By the time she was done, she was groaning, prone on the floor, and he was smiling, offering his hand to help her up.
“Hey,” he said, “you’ve got to get back in here a little more often if you want to knock me down.”
“I know,” she said, waving away his hand. “That was evident tonight.”
He burst out laughing. “No,” he said, “you still had some moves. It’s just you’re a little out of practice.”
“Too much so,” she said, still on the floor on her back, staring up at the ceiling. “I need to get here more than just weekly again.”
He nodded. “Yes, you do. In order to keep it flowing the way you want it to flow,” he said, “it’s pretty necessary to be here consistently.”
“Yeah, if only my workload would allow for it.”
“I get it,” he said. “Believe me. I do. You’re doing a very important job, and it comes with an awful lot of challenges, and one of them is time.”
“Time, energy, and mental health,” she said. “I’m slacking on the mental health side as well.”
“You’ve got to watch that,” he said, “and find a way to figure it out. I understand your misgivings about seeing the department’s mental health doctor, but find some other way. That is way too important to let slide.”
She smiled. “It’s an occupational hazard, but the job doesn’t exactly come with any manual on how to deal with it.”
As he thought about it, he frowned and said, “No, and it’s a real problem, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “It is, actually. You do your best, but sometimes you come away thinking that you’re not getting anything done.”
“Well, we know you are,” he said. “It’s just a matter of staying positive.”
At that, she laughed. “If it only were that easy.”
He chuckled. “Still, it’s not all bad news.”
“If you say so,” she replied, with a big grin.
“Well, when you’ve got time,” he said, “I’ve got time for you. So do the best you can.”
And, on that note, he headed over to work with other students.
Too tired to shower here, she walked out the door. The air was fresh, and she stood still for a few long moments, just taking in deep breaths. When a shadow detached from the wall beside her, she was momentarily startled, only to realize it was Simon. “What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly.
He winced. “Always rolling out the welcome wagon, aren’t you? But anyway I’m here,” he said, “and it doesn’t look like you’re in any shape to walk home.”
“That bad? I could catch a cab or maybe the bus,” she said, with a shrug. “Honestly I just needed to come and to blow off some steam.”
“Hard day?”
“Frustrating,” she said. “We can’t get any answers, and apparently you aren’t getting anything on this one. Maybe it’s only when there are children at risk,” she said, with a side glance at him.
“I hope so,” he said casually. “I’d just as soon never have that happen again.”
She nodded. “And that’s what makes you so unique.”
“Not unique enough,” he said. “It�
��s still disconcerting to have any of this happen.”
“Sorry about that,” she said, but her tone was so obviously unrepentant that he had to laugh.
“You could make it sound like you care a little bit at least,” he said, chuckling.
She gave him a wave of her hand. “Trying not to lie.”
“How was your session?” he asked, nodding his head at the club doors behind her.
“Really good, but, as I stand here, I’m realizing you could be right about my ability to make it home, at least walking.”
“No, I’m not walking for sure,” he said. “Come on. My car is around the corner.”
“You don’t have to keep looking after me,” she said in exasperation, yet inordinately pleased that he cared enough to. It’s like she craved what wasn’t good for her. Or what she was trying to convince herself was a bad idea—but was it? Still?
“Well, if you—uh—managed to look after yourself,” he said, “I wouldn’t have to.”
When she glared at him, he chuckled. “Come on. Don’t be stubborn. There’s a time and a place, and this isn’t it.”
“Says you,” she muttered.
He gave her a flat stare, and she groaned. “Fine, I am tired.”
“Right,” he said, “at least we can agree on that.”
She just tipped her head side to side and rotated her shoulders.
“You should really get a massage.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not likely to happen,” she said, waving her hand. Then realizing she was being ungrateful, she said, “Look. I’ll take the ride home, if you’ve got time, but that’s it. I’m going to bed and crashing.”
“And that’s a hint for me, I suppose.”
“I’ve told you that we aren’t a good idea.”
“Keep on telling yourself that.”
She glared; he shrugged. And finally she just said, “I’m too tired right now to have this conversation.”
“Got it,” he said, “and you don’t ever need to have an excuse. Believe me. I’m all about you taking care of you.”
“I take care of me just fine.” But lately it was hard to do. At his flat stare, she groaned. “Okay, so it’s been a busy day, you know? Some weeks, some lifetimes are like that.”
He nodded. “I get it. I really do because some of my nights are like that too. But it doesn’t change the fact that, if you don’t take care of yourself, nobody else will.”
She nodded and got into his vehicle quietly. He was right, and she knew it. But the last thing she wanted was to be chastised like a child tonight. When he pulled up outside of her apartment, he looked at her and said, “I’d like to come in for a moment.”
“But—” And she hesitated.
“I get it,” he said. “I promise. I just want to come up and have a cup of coffee with you.”
She looked at her watch and nodded. “Fine, but you’re not staying.”
He grinned at her.
“I mean it,” she said. “Last time it happened, and it wasn’t supposed to.”
He shrugged. “I’m not pushing. I already said that.”
“I know you said that,” she replied, “but it seems like that’s not how it ends up.”
“That’s not fair,” he said. “I promise I’ll be good.”
She rolled her eyes at that but let him come up. She said, “You put on the coffee. I’ll go have a shower. Some things just don’t feel right unless you can get clean.”
“Go.”
And, with that, she headed for the shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water sluicing down her back. She stepped out a bit later to find the coffee still dripping but only just started.
“What’s the matter? Did you forget how to make it?” she asked in a teasing voice. Looking around, she found him stretched out on her couch, studying his phone. “Anything interesting?”
He said, “Unfortunately too interesting. You might get another phone call here soon.”
“Why?” she asked, wrapping a towel around her head. Just then her phone rang.
“That’s why.”
Frowning, she looked at him and picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“This is Dispatch. We have a DB. We’re texting you the address and the details we have.”
“Okay,” she said, closing her eyes, wishing she didn’t have to go out tonight, but then someone didn’t want to die tonight, and they didn’t get their wish either. “I’ll head down there now.” She called Rodney.
“Yeah, I just got it too.” He said, “One other thing though, I was talking to somebody else earlier today.”
“Oh, what’s up?”
“There’s been another jumper.”
She stopped and winced. “Damn,” she said, “that bridge is getting heavy use.”
“It was a different bridge, so a different department’s jurisdiction, which is why it didn’t cross our desks,” he said. “Not that it makes any of it easier.”
“No, it doesn’t,” she said. “I wish I knew what was bringing on this rash of jumpers.”
“Does anything have to be bringing it on?” he asked in a dark tone. “Seems like there’s always more than enough strife and ugliness in the world for people to find a reason to choose a different route.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but I’m really not liking these numbers.”
He laughed. “Nobody likes the numbers.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you down there.”
“Good enough,” he said, “but I’ll be going right past your place. I’ll pick you up.”
“Fine,” she said, “give me ten.”
“You got it.”
She quickly dressed, and Simon still reclined on her couch. “You have to leave,” she said, without preamble.
He hopped to his feet. “I know. I know. I was just waiting for you to be done.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I’d really rather that my teammate not see you.”
At that, Simon’s gaze narrowed.
“No, I’m not trying to hide the relationship,” she said, “but, at the same time, I don’t really want to answer any questions about it right now.”
He nodded slowly. “That’ll do for the moment.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to push but figured that, when they had time to talk, he would open up a little bit more about it. Still, she figured that she wouldn’t like it any more than she did now. “That reminds me. How did you know?”
“From one of my jobs. It’s close to one of the houses I was looking at rehabbing. I was texting the Realtor about it, and she said a swarm of cops was around what looked like might be a murder down the street.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Of course you’d be involved,” she muttered.
“I’m not involved at all,” he said. “And, just for the record, I’ve never been involved in something like that.”
She flashed him a smile. “I’m really glad to hear that.” Because she was running behind, she stopped, looked at him, and said, “You need to lock up.”
He nodded. “Go,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Fine,” she said. “It’s not like I’ve got anything here to steal.” She laughed in his direction, as she ran out of the apartment. Down on the street level, Rodney was just pulling in. She jumped into his vehicle, and they headed downtown. “Do we know anything about this one?”
He shrugged and said, “I heard it looks like a murder-suicide and have the address.”
“Do we know anything about the other jumper you mentioned?”
“No, not a thing. Just that there was one.” He looked over at her, with concern. “I hope you’re not getting too worked up about them, are you?”
“Well, I hope somebody is,” she said. “Somebody needs to give a damn.”
“Lots of people need to give a damn,” he said quietly, “but that’s a big issue for one person to tackle.”
“I know, but we have to start somewhere.”
“What will you do? Gi
ve mental health workshops or something?”
“That’s definitely not something I would handle very well.”
“Maybe not,” he said, “but I’m not so sure about that. You do pretty good with that psychoanalyst stuff.”
“Hell no,” she said. “I really suck at that.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think you’re a dark horse.”
She laughed. “Nothing dark about me. I’m just what you see, … an open book.”
“No,” he said forcibly, “that’s the last thing you are.”
She looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“There are depths to you that, even if we worked together for ten years, I highly doubt I’ll ever get to know.”
She was surprised to hear him say that. “That’s an odd thing to say.”
“Not at all,” he said. “The fact of the matter is that most of us don’t quite understand what makes you tick. We’re just glad you joined the team, so you’re on our side.”
*
Curious as to what Kate and her partner would see, Simon followed the news, while he headed back to his place. He’d rather have spent time with her. She was definitely more intelligent than his usual dates. And he loved her lively curious brain; even her natural crankiness appealed. Although talking hadn’t been the prime activity before. He was a sexual creature and thoroughly enjoyed letting loose.
He understood that Kate didn’t want their relationship to become an issue at her job; he just didn’t see how it would. He didn’t know any of the people she worked with, but, because of their prior association on the pedophile case, and what you might call his unconventional way of offering assistance, there was definitely some hesitation on her part to bring all that back up again. He could respect that. It was also frustrating. He’d love to have a little more of her in his life, but, as long as she kept him at arm’s length, it wouldn’t happen.
She was fiery, yet uncertain, was easily startled, and would bolt at this stage, if he pushed it. And he’d do a lot to avoid making her feel that way.
