by Mary Calmes
"Again, this goes with my shower hypothesis."
"Fine," he sighed. "I'll call again and if she doesn't answer we'll go in, all right?"
I nodded.
He scrolled to recently dialed numbers and hit send. I stood beside him as he put the phone on loudspeaker and it rang. We heard the message click on again before he hung up his phone.
"Now?"
The second I agreed, he opened one screen door and then another that led into what looked like an enclosed back porch.
It was all glass on four sides, but I had not noticed from the outside because the blinds were drawn. The reason became instantly understandable as we found a woman lying facedown in the middle of the floor. She was lying in a pool of blood. I felt my stomach heave.
"Oh shit," Caleb moaned, taking a step back.
I squatted down and leaned back against the door.
"Jesus."
"Look at this."
I lifted my head and he was holding a bloody kitchen knife.
"I think this is the murder weapon."
"Tell me you didn't just pick that up," I moaned.
"Oh." His eyes got huge as he stared at me. "Shit."
Unlike me, who owned all the seasons of CSI—the original, not the New York or Miami ones—on DVD, the man had never even seen one episode. Forensics 101: never touch stuff without plastic gloves on.
When he dropped the chef knife, it bounced and landed close to the dead woman. I made it outside in time so I wasn't sick on the carpet.
* * * *
I sat at the table across from Hefron and Lange, my head in my hands as I explained for the fifth time what had happened at Joyce Fain's house. I had been fingerprinted, they had taken my hiking boots and clothes, and I was now in an orange jumpsuit that was definitely not made out of cotton and did nothing for my complexion. Even though I knew they didn't think I'd killed anyone, I was still nervous and sick to my stomach. I had thrown up my entire breakfast and had resorted to dry heaving soon after. Even though I had seen two men shot to death those years ago, it was different somehow, seeing a dead woman. The fact that she was somebody's mother was hard for me, so I was trying to think about everything else but her... the jumpsuit, for example. I told myself it shouldn't have mattered—woman or man, my feelings should have been the same—but it did and I couldn't help it. I was cold and shaking and the light was hurting my eyes.
"Tell me one more time, Jory," Neal Lange prodded me.
"When can I see Caleb?"
"We'll bring him in here before we take you guys back to the hotel to pick up your things."
"What?"
"We're taking you both to Mr. Harcourt's residence. He's agreed to house you both for the remainder of the investigation."
"I wanna go home," I told him.
"If you prefer."
"I do."
"And Mr. Reid?"
I shrugged. "I dunno."
"Jory."
I looked up into his face.
"There can't be any more running around town tracking down leads. It's too dangerous, and we will be forced to charge you with evidence tampering and interference in an ongoing criminal investigation should you persist."
"I didn't mean to—"
"We'll charge you with obstruction. Do you get it?"
I nodded. "I won't do it anymore... I don't know how Sam does this every day. I don't know how you guys look at dead people and don't just pass out right there."
He nodded. "It's the job, Jory."
"Yeah... you can have it," I sighed deeply.
I felt like a cold wind was blowing right through me.
"You're shaking."
"That's because I'm freezing."
There was a trace of a smile before he nodded. "Tell me again, Jory, from the time you got out of the car."
So I did.
They told me that Joyce Fain had been dead for at last six hours before we found her. From how she was lying and the lack of any defensive wounds, she had been attacked from behind and her throat cut. There were all kinds of things they knew from the blood spatter and the pool by her head. It would not have been hard to overpower the sixty-eight-year-old woman, as she was not in good health. Nothing was taken from the house, her purse had a hundred and fifty dollars in it, and all her jewelry remained. There was no reason for her to be dead but for the fact that whoever had done it had gone there specifically to do so.
"Jory, you don't look good."
"It's 'cause I'm wearing orange."
He chuckled. "You need food and fluids and lots of sleep."
I nodded, folding my arms and putting my head down on top of them. "Can I go see Sam?"
"Sure."
I closed my eyes. "Thanks."
"What were you hoping to gain by going to see Mrs. Fain?"
"We were... I mean, I—I was thinking that if I got to talk to her then maybe she would be able to tell us who Greg hung out with."
Lange nodded. "That's good thinking."
"Thanks," I said, letting out a deep breath, shivering hard.
"I wanna go see Sam."
"Okay, buddy... okay. Jory, look at me. Jory...."
And I tried really hard to focus on him right before I saw spots and the room went dark.
* * * *
It was bright and so I squinted when I opened my eyes.
My groan was loud.
"Nice," Dane growled at me.
I looked around. "I'm back in the hospital?"
"Yes."
"How come?"
"Because you're dehydrated, you have a slight concussion, and your blood sugar is critically low."
"I don't have a concussion. I didn't hit my—"
"It's the same one you had, idiot. You never gave yourself a second to heal, and then you got hit by whoever that guy was when you got between him and that woman, and you—"
"I still have a concussion?"
"It's hysterical that you're surprised."
"Dane, I—"
"They gave you some glucose to help with your blood sugar and more fluid than I thought was possible—two IV's full of fluid—and... you know you always drink like a gallon of water a day, so your body is used to taking in that much.
When you stop... that was really stupid."
"Yeah, I know. I just haven't had time."
"What possessed you to go to that woman's house?"
"It made sense, right? I mean, if I had gotten to talk to her I would have asked her who her son hung out with.
Maybe we could have put a face to Greg Fain's buddy."
He shook his head. "Well, apparently you and Caleb did a great job destroying evidence and just completely ruining the crime scene."
"Yeah, but no one would have even known about the crime scene without me and Caleb."
"Don't kid yourself, Jory, someone else would have found that woman's body and when they did, they would have tied her murder to that of her son's. As it stands now, Caleb's prints are on the murder weapon, yours are all over the door, and both of your footprints are on the carpet. If they find anything after they pull you two out of the mix, it will be a miracle."
I took a breath and stared at him.
"What were you looking for?"
"We were hoping to talk to her about—"
"No, I mean when you went through her stuff?"
"What're you talking about?"
"Why did you go through her things? What was the point of that?"
"We didn't."
"Well, apparently you did. They found your prints everywhere."
I scoffed at him. "Everywhere, my ass. I touched the door—that's all I touched."
"Maybe that's what you think you touched, but—"
"That's all I touched, Dane."
"Well, Lange told me that they found your prints all over everything. Her books, boxes in the basement, the chest at the end of her bed... they said you tossed the place."
"That's bullshit," I told him. "We went in the back door and that was
as far as we got. I don't know where he's getting all that, but if he finds my prints or Caleb's on anything else, he's lying."
"Why would he do that?"
"I don't think he is, I'm just saying... I think he got it wrong. If someone was looking for something, it had to be the guy we're after, not me or Caleb."
He nodded. "Okay. I'll ask him again."
"Fine."
He brushed my hair back from my face. "After you rest a little, we can go see Sam."
"Sounds good," I said, closing my eyes.
"After that, you're coming home with me."
"I don't wanna go with—"
"Do I care what you want anymore?"
"Aww... c'mon, Dane, I—"
"Detective Hefron wants you to go back there with him tomorrow and show him exactly where you were in the house.
He's also wants you to look at everything in contrast to Mrs.
Fain's cleaning lady. He wants to see if she notices anything different from what you did."
"Fine. Whatever. I wanna see Caleb and make sure he's all right."
"He's all right, Jory. Just rest."
"But—"
"Rest," he insisted, and he had his scowl going so I didn't want to mess with him.
I closed my eyes and told myself I would pretend to rest so he would stop bugging me. But it backfired, and I fell asleep.
* * * *
The shaking was insistent and I was irritated as I opened my eyes. This was a hospital; they were supposed to let you sleep. I was surprised to find Aja, looking just as annoyed.
"What's the matter with you?" I asked her quickly.
"Oh, I don't know," she snapped at me. "Between you and Sam, where should I start?"
"Oh."
"Yeah.... Oh, for goodness sake, Jory, my heart can't take all this. Worrying about you, worrying about Sam.... Could one of you," she glared at me, "quit."
"I will, I'll stop." As I sat up I realized that I wasn't hooked up to anything anymore. Very exciting. "Hey, look—I got no strings on me."
"I'm thrilled," she said snidely. "Will you be doing any more running around, Kojak, or are we through with that?"
"We're through with that." I yawned.
She lunged at me then, grabbing me tight, burying her face in the side of my neck. She shivered just once and then squeezed me as hard as she could.
I hugged her back, rubbing circles on her back. "I'm all right."
Pulling back, she stared into my eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure. Do you know when they're going to release me?"
"The doctor was here maybe thirty minutes ago. He said he was going to get the paperwork going so you could leave when you woke up."
"Awesome." I smiled at her. "Then let's get me changed and—"
"Wait." She put up her hand. "You know Dane isn't letting you go anywhere but home with us, right?"
"No, I'll talk to him. He'll change his mind, you'll see."
"I don't know, Jory, he's been pretty upset."
"I know I put you both through a lot, but—"
"Jory, half of the time I don't know whether to hug you or strangle you. I need to know that you're safe and I really can't fault Dane's logic. If he can see you, he knows you're all right."
"I guess."
"He told me he's going to hire you a bodyguard too."
"How's yours? Is he hot?"
"No, not so much." She widened her eyes.
"Not like in the movies?"
"Absolutely not."
I had to smile, she was so cute.
She glared at me and stood up from where she'd been sitting next to me on my bed. "Get up and change. I bought you some clothes to wear."
After I took a quick shower and changed, I walked with my sister-in-law to Sam's room. I complained about the gel she'd bought me the whole way.
"God, do I even get a thank you?" she chided me.
"I said thank you a hundred times."
"Then quit bitching about your hair. It looks fine."
"Fine," I repeated, running my fingers through it again. It wasn't the gel I used. It felt weird, but the glare from her told me I should drop it.
"You are really very vain. Has anyone ever told you that?"
she snapped at me.
"I am not," I grumbled, rubbing my cheek with the back of my fingers. "I need to shave."
She snorted out a laugh, which was very undignified. "A little stubble looks good on you. Makes you look like a man instead of a sixteen-year-old boy."
"Oh, screw you," I whined. "I don't look like a kid anymore."
"Whatever you say."
I let her walk into Sam's room first, past the two uniformed policemen, and when I saw him I was surprised to find him out of bed and sitting at the table in the corner, in one of the hospital's ideas of a recliner. He was dressed in sweats, white crew socks, and a T-shirt. I had never seen him look so good.
"There he is," he said, and gestured for me.
I bolted forward, but Dane caught my arm to stop my flight.
"No," Sam said, and my eyes went from my brother's face to his. "Let him go."
Dane dropped his hand.
I gave him a slight smile before I dashed forward to stand over Sam. "You look great." I beamed down at him.
He patted his thighs. "C'mere, you know I love you in my lap."
It was funny. Everyone yelled at once as I put my hand down on the arm of the chair and swung myself over him.
They thought I was stupid. When I caught myself, bracing my hands on both arms and slowly straddling his hips, there was a collective sigh of relief. Sam chuckled and put a hand on his abdomen.
"Don't make me laugh yet, all right?"
I nodded as I shifted my ass over his groin, moving around until I felt him get hard. Instantly his hands were like iron on my hips.
"Knock it off, 'cause I can't do shit about that right now."
"I could take care of you," I told him, smiling lazily, biting my bottom lip.
He stared into my eyes and took my face in his hands. "I want you here with me every night from now on, you understand? No more, Jory, no more."
"Okay," I said, leaning forward to kiss him.
He tightened his hold on me so I couldn't move. "You took years off my life, you know."
"No, I didn't. Don't say that."
He let out a quick exhale. "I need you around a long time, you understand? I can't have anything happen to you... I just can't."
"Okay, okay." I grinned at him. "Now can I kiss you?"
"Yes," he said softly, easing me down so that our lips touched. I closed my eyes and his tongue slipped between my lips as I parted them for him. I sighed into his mouth and forgot about everything and everyone else but Sam Kage.
Kissing Sam Kage. His hand went to the back of my head, holding me there as his mouth slanted over mine, possessively, roughly. I moaned back in my throat as my hands slid over his chest, touching the rock-hard muscles.
"Okay, stop." Dane's voice cut through my body like ice.
He sounded really annoyed.
I pulled back and looked over my shoulder at him as he crossed the room to stand beside us.
"I have no interest in watching my brother make out with his boyfriend. I want to know what the hell you were thinking by going through that woman's stuff!"
I stood up, but Sam grabbed my hand.
"Sit here," he said, patting the arm of the chair.
I perched as I was directed and felt his hand slip up under the back of my sweater to caress my skin. "I didn't touch anything, Dane. I already told you."
"That's not true, Jory," Detective Lange said as he walked up beside my brother. "I checked to make sure I was right, and Caleb's fingerprints are all over—"
"I didn't go through anything," I almost yelled, the only thing keeping me from losing it being Sam's hand on the small of my back. Just that much contact, calming me. "We walked in, we found her lying there." I swallowed hard, remembering. "Ca
leb accidentally touched the knife and then I ran back outside and threw up."
"Jory, you've gotta be—" Detective Lange began.
"I'm not wrong," I told him and my brother, realizing suddenly that, along with them, Sam's parents were there, and Detective Hefron, and a couple of other people I didn't know. They all had badges hanging from chains around their necks. "I know what I did and I know what I didn't do, and I'm sure I—"
"Shut up," Sam suddenly yelled, and I got up and turned around to look at him.
I couldn't believe he was taking their side and not listening to me, but when I saw his face, I went mute. He was absolutely ashen.
"Sam," I said quickly, leaning down, my hands on his face and arms. "Are you all right? Should I call the doctor or—"
"Sam," Regina gasped, rushing up beside me, her hands on his chest. "Honey, what can we do?"
"Call the doctor!" Thomas barked out.
It was chaos in seconds, everyone yelling, before Sam stood up, brushing away everyone's hands but mine. Me he grabbed tight and hugged to his side, like he was protecting me.
"Shut up!" he roared, and the room went instantly silent. I was suddenly whipped around to face him, his hands digging into my biceps painfully. Even hurt, he was so strong. "You only touched the door and the wall, right?"
I nodded.
He looked over my shoulder but didn't let me go.
"Goddamnit," he said and swayed a little, his voice hoarse.
"Neal," he said, and let me go as Detective Lange stepped in front of him. "We're fuckin' idiots."
I watched Detective Lange stare at Sam and then his mouth slowly opened before he turned and looked at Detective Hefron.
"It's Caleb Reid," James Hefron said flatly, and let out a deep breath. "Jesus Christ, it's Caleb Reid."
"Wait," Dane said quickly. "What are you—"
"Go to his room," Sam yelled at Lange, who turned and ran, walkie-talkie in his hand, as everyone cleared out but Sam's family, Dane, and Aja.
"Sam," Dane said, stepping closer to him. "What's going on?"
Sam pulled his hair back from his face and looked at me.
"Holy shit, Jory."
"What? What's going on? What does this have to do with—"
"It's Caleb, baby," Sam said, putting a hand around the back of my neck to pull me to him. "It has to be. Everything started around the time Caleb came into Dane's life. The first guy killed was right after he met Dane and learned about you.