by Jet MacLeod
Danica came out of her office. She saw Sam’s empty chair and Grace’s worried look. She crossed the office to their desks.
“She’d better have a good explanation for this,” Danica said.
“I should hope so.”
“This isn’t the way to start here especially on this case.”
“This isn’t the way to work for your mother,” Grace said.
Danica opened her mouth to reply but shut it after she though the better of it.
“When she decides to come in, I’ll have her report directly to you, Cap,” Grace told Danica.
“You do that.”
“Do you want me to call her?”
“Yes and no. I’m not sure that I am ready to know why she’s late. I just hope that it is a very good reason.”
“I understand, Cap,” Grace answered.
“Until we know what’s going on with Sam, find out what Cormack has ready and take Frenchy with you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Grace replied.
Grace waited until Danica was back in her office before she called Samantha. She didn’t answer. Grace left her a message to call her back immediately. Once she hung up the phone, she glanced over at French’s desk. He was lost in some case files.
“Hey, Frenchy,” Grace called over to him.
“What, Tiny?”
“Wanna go play with CSU?”
“Sure, that beats staring at photos all morning.”
“Maybe Cormack found something for us,” Grace replied.
“I hope so,” French added.
Tabitha heard a phone ring and got out of bed. She was amazed to find Samantha still there and in bed with her. She looked over at her desk. The bottle of vodka was empty, bone dry. She glanced over at Sam, who looked thoroughly dis-shelved and content. Tabitha’s mind raced. She knew she would call her sister, Penelope, later. She looked around the studio and found the canvas still on the easel.
She crossed the open room to the canvas. She was shocked. She was amazed at herself. She had never painted someone so wantonly and like the result. She hid the canvas from Sam. Tabitha liked it, but she wasn’t ready to share it, yet, with anyone.
“SAM!” she yelled back across the room.
Sam stirred in the bed. She rolled over and grabbed her cell out of her pants. She glanced at the clock, ignoring the three missed calls and voicemails. It was already after ten. She jumped out of the bed and threw her clothes on before her mind caught up to her body.
“Wait, how am I going to get to work?”
“I’ll take you,” Tabitha offered.
“Great.”
“Do you need to call in or something?” Tabby asked.
“No…yeah, I’ll call O’Shea in a minute…can you take me home first?”
“Sure,” Tabitha answered, a devilish grin crossing her face.
“Wait,” Sam replied staring at the bed. “Did we? Did you sleep with me?”
“No,” Tabitha lied, knowing nothing happened between them, but that Sam was freaked out thinking that they had drunken sex.
“Oh,” Sam stated.
Tabitha stared at Sam and Sam at her. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. The familiarity that they had shared a bed the night before was gone. Sam seemed stressed. Tabitha knew when to just let it go.
She was a little upset, more disappointed about the situation than she would have liked to be. There was nothing that Tabitha could do about it, though, and she knew it. She couldn’t help that she had an attraction towards Sam. She couldn’t help that all she wanted to do was paint Sam, preferably nude. She knew that Sam was a lesbian like she was.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said, breaking the silence.
“For what?”
“For being me, for freaking out,” Sam replied.
“It’s okay. It’s understandable. Don’t fret about it. Come on we should get you home. You’re late for work,” Tabitha stated, secretly elated.
“Don’t remind me.”
Sam pulled into the parking lot at the main Sheriff’s Office. She glanced around the lot. She saw her mother’s car and French’s. She didn’t see Cormack’s or Grace’s, though.
Sam pulled out her cell. It was then that she remembered all the missed calls and voicemails. They were all from Grace. Sam fell back into seat and berated herself.
“This is not a good start for me,” she thought to herself.
Sam called Grace’s phone. It went to voicemail. Sam cursed softly under her breath. She dug up the courage and called her mother’s desk phone.
“Lexington County Sheriff’s Office, Captain Wannamaker speaking, how can I help you, today?” Danica answered.
“Hi, Mom,” Same stated.
“Hello, Sam,” Danica replied.
Sam could hear the disappointment in Danica’s voice. She knew that her mom would be upset, but she hadn’t been really prepared for the icy reply she got from Danica. Sam knew that her mom was going to be doubly hard on her because they were family. She bit the bullet and finally replied to her mom.
“Sorry for being late.”
“You’re in the parking lot, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied, dropping her head as if Danica was in front of her scolding her.
“Plan on coming in, today?”
“Yes,” Sam responded.
“Then, come on in. Your partners are at the lab looking over evidence. I only have one question for you Sam,” Danica told her.
“Yes, Mom?”
“You wanna tell me why you are three hours late?” Danica asked.
“I was working on the case.”
“With who? Where? When?”
“I was still with Tabitha Grey. We were working on the sketch program that I created. She was trying to help with the sketches we already have,” Sam explained.
“So, why didn’t Grace know where you were?”
“Because I should have been home and into work.”
“We already know that. Do you care to elaborate on that point? So, you wanna tell me why that didn’t happen?” Danica asked Sam, more as her mother than a superior officer.
“I’d rather not say.”
“Samantha Allison Wannamaker!”
“Nothing happened. I fell asleep. I woke up to Grace calling me.”
“And, yet, you are just now calling into work?”
“Sorry, Mom, I was trying to get dressed and presentable before I came in.”
“Do me a favor,” Danica told her.
“Yeah?”
“Next time, just call and say you’re running late.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam replied.
“And, Samantha,” Danica started.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Don’t let there be a next time,” Danica replied.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam answered, snapping to attention in her car.
“Now, go find your partners,” Danica told her, ringing off the phone.
“Easier said than done,” Sam said to her steering wheel.
Frenchy and Gracie were standing over a light table covered with crime scene photos. Cormack was across the room with the various machines running all the other evidence. Cormack looked over at them. She could see the frustration on both of their faces.
“Why don’t we take a break?” Cormack asked.
“Sounds like a good idea,” French replied.
“I guess,” Gracie answered.
“Come on, Gracie, you’re going cross-eyed trying to find something.”
“There has to be something. No one is that good. I had to have missed something. I know it,” Grace stated.
“Let’s wait until all the evidence is run. I’ve put a rush on it. Hell, I’m running most of it myself, Grace. We all want this guy, but going blind isn’t going to help anyone,” Cormack told her.
“I know.”
“Heard from the Kid, yet?” Frenchy asked, trying to change the subject.
“No,” Gracie replied as her anger flared up
.
Grace looked at her phone. There still wasn’t a message or a text from Sam. Grace was getting worried, but her anger was still winning out. She was even madder at herself for being this angry about it. She knew that Sam was a big girl and could handle herself. It didn’t matter. Sam was her partner, now, and that meant that Sam was also her responsibility.
“She’s fine,” Cormack said to no one in particular as she studied some paperwork.
“I know that,” Grace snapped.
Frenchy and Cormack starred at Grace. Both of them looked completely bewildered by her snap. Grace was still staring at the photos on the light board. She kept shuffling them around.
“Cormack,” Grace said, calmer now.
“Yes,” Cormack replied, knowing she wasn’t going to get an apology.
“How hard would it be for us to go back to the crime scene?”
“No trouble at all. It hasn’t been released to the descendant’s family yet. Why? What are you thinking?” Cormack asked her.
“I want to take more pictures,” she answered.
“More pictures?” French asked, “Of what?”
“The crime scene and the house.”
“Do you think I missed something?” Cormack asked, insulted.
“No, I think I missed something,” Grace stated.
Grace still sat there shuffling the photos. Cormack could see the frustration on her face. Everyone who was working on the case knew how much catching this guy meant to Grace. Frenchy shook his head. He knew that this case could break Grace, and if it did, she would never be a cop again.
“Come on, Grace. Let’s take a drive. Clear your head,” he suggested.
“As long as it’s on the way to the scene,” Grace replied.
“I’ll call the Kid. Tell her to meet us there. Do we need anything besides a camera?” French responded, realizing he wouldn’t win if he tried to argue.
“No, I’ll come with you,” Cormack said.
“Good, let’s go.”
Sam sat in her Camaro. She wasn’t sure she heard French right. He told her to meet them at the scene. Had she been forgiven? She didn’t know but she rushed to the scene.
When she got there, Frenchy was reviewing the notes. Cormack was taking another battery of photos. Grace was on the phone. She looked relieved. She stared at Sam, as Sam crossed the drive to where she was.
“I understand that, Tabby…That doesn’t excuse it…Yes…yes…fine…I promise, I’ll go easy on her, this time…I’m sure she does…Tabby, I promise…Look she’s here now…I will…I will…I promise…Yes, I’ll call you back after she and I have talked…Alright, Tabby, I’ll call you later,” Grace stated.
Sam looked suddenly pissed. She was pissed. Tabitha promised that she wouldn’t call. She had lied to Sam. It was the one thing that Sam couldn’t allow: lying. Grace watched Sam’s mood change as she got closer.
“Well, it’s about time, Kid,” French told her.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anybody. Anything new pop up? Why we here?”
“Looking for evidence,” Grace replied, and then asked, “You talked to your mom, yet? If not, you’d better call her.”
“Already did. She gave me the riot act. Made me promise to never do it again without calling her or you first,” Sam replied.
“Good,” Grace said, before she turned to French and Cormack, “Can y’all get me some shots of the lake? Especially of the water?”
They both knew better than to question Grace when she was in the zone. French grabbed an extra camera and notebook. He made a data sheet to mark the location and angle of each shot. Cormack followed suit with another notebook.
When they were gone, Grace tugged on Sam’s shirt, “Come on.”
Sam followed her into the house. Sam began to study the layout. She was mentally nothing where the furniture was and wasn’t in the living room area. Grace turned around and stunned Sam.
“Listen to me, Sam, and listen good,” Grace started.
Sam nodded. She didn’t dare say anything. She waited for Grace to continue.
“I am so fucking angry with you right now. I could scream. It has been a long time since I’ve been this mad. You know that I am your immediate supervisor and I don’t like looking like a fool in front of your mother, understand?” Grace asked, giving Sam only long enough to acknowledge the question before continuing. “I’m calm, now. You can thank Frenchy and Cormack, and your mother for that later. Right now, I want to you explain why Tabitha called me and she wouldn’t say anything to me until I talked to you.”
Sam relaxed a little. She felt her anger start to dissipate. Tabitha hadn’t betrayed her trust. She was probably trying to calm Grace down for Sam. Sam reminded herself to apologize to Tabitha for thinking the worst.
“Earth to Sam. Come in Sam,” Grace said, waving her hands in front of Sam’s face, and then asked, “So you gonna tell me what that’s about?”
“Sorry.”
“So?” Grace continued to prod.
“She wants to ask you a question, but I told her to let me do it.”
“So, what’s the question?”
“Well, we were working on the sketch program,” Sam started.
“Uh huh.”
“And, she was working with the sketches of Reagan and Catie.”
“Uh huh.”
“Then, I pulled up the photos of Reagan and Catie.”
“Uh huh,” Grace stated, getting more annoyed by the minute.
“She tried to manipulate them to get different angles and such.”
“Okay?”
“She couldn’t do what she wanted to do. She got frustrated and started to ask about the case,” Sam replied, as Grace’s eyes got wider. “I was good. I didn’t tell her any specifics or names. I didn’t really tell her much of anything, except that we are looking for a serial rapist turned murderer.”
“Damn it, Sam, just ask me the fucking question already!!!” Grace shouted at her, her temper breaking.
“Tabitha wants to know if she can meet with the ‘victims’ in order to help the sketches and the sketch program. Her idea, not mine,” Sam stated, taking a giant step away from Grace. “I told her I couldn’t make that decision. I told her it was up to you. I swear I didn’t tell her anything.”
Sam looked at the murderous look in Grace’s eyes and took another step away. Grace stood there with a blank face. Murderous thoughts that ran through her brain were echoed again in her eyes. Sam took another step back. Grace was on a whole new plain of anger and she was ready to explode.
“She wants to do what?” Grace questioned, through clenched teeth.
“She wants to meet with Reagan and Catie,” Sam said, almost to the door.
“Who gave her that idea?”
“She came up with it on her own. She wanted to call you last night. I stopped her.”
“Why does she think it’ll help?” Grace asked, as she fell into an angry calm.
“She thinks she can pull more of Reagan out of Catie to give us a better possibility for the perp. Tabitha says she has an artist’s curse. She think she sees things that others don’t or can’t,” Sam explained.
“And, what did you say to her about this idea?”
“I told her the truth. That it was complicated. I told her that I would have to ask you about it. I would let you arrange the meet if there is going to be one. I told her I couldn’t make the decision. I told her that as my superior, you were the only one who could make that decision. I never gave her an affirmation or a denial.”
“You put it all on me?”
“Yes,” Sam answered, waiting for Grace to go off.
“Great,” Grace muttered.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. You did the right thing. I understand also why you did that and I thank you for it,” Grace replied, completely calm.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“Oh, I’m mad, but not about that. You handled Tabitha by the book. Not man
y people can say that. She is used to getting her way. I’m not sure how you did it, but thanks. I’ll deal with Tabitha. I’ll have to talk to Reagan, of course, but I really don’t want to upset her again,” Grace stated.
“I understand that, Grace. I wouldn’t want to, either. So?”
“I am going leave it up to Reagan. We can’t force a victim to do anything they don’t want to do. I’m definitely not going to pressure her into do anything, either,” Grace answered.
“I know that, Grace.”
Grace turned to face Sam. There was obvious pain in her eyes. The anger was gone. Sam didn’t know how to comfort her partner.
“You think I’m too close to the case, don’t you?” Grace asked, breaking the silence.
“Maybe. I don’t know. Mom thinks you are doing a good job. It’s a call I wouldn’t want to make. I’m glad that I don’t have to make it, either.”
“I’m not sure what to make of that, but thanks, I think. Anyway,” Grace started, shaking her head, clearing her thoughts. “There has to be something here. Something I missed yesterday.”
“I doubt it, but what could it be? What do you think it could be? We checked everything. We photographed everything,” Sam stated.
“I know, but we need something,” Grace said.
“We can’t manufacture evidence. Either it’s here or it’s not. What did you want to look at inside the house? Anything?” Sam questioned.
“The bedroom.”
“What about it?” Sam asked.
She was trying to make Grace focus. She knew Grace was thinking about Reagan. Hell, they all were. No one wanted to make Reagan relive the horrors done to her. It pained them all, but, unfortunately and fortunately, Reagan was the only surviving victim.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to take more pictures, now that CSU isn’t here?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I guess then we can compare them. I have no idea what I’m looking for and what I am not. There was a lot of mess, but not a lot of new information with the evidence,” Grace told her.
“I know. I reviewed the case yesterday while Frenchy was driving. I don’t know what to look for besides the obvious,” Sam stated.
