by Jet MacLeod
They ate in silence. Grace couldn’t tell if it was because the food was that good or the moments before. She had a trying day. Grace wondered how Reagan’s day was at the office. She didn’t want to break the silence, but it was deafening. All Grace wanted was to make Reagan happy.
“Grace, I’m okay,” Reagan told her, across the kitchen table.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, darling, I’m sure. Thank you for caring so much. But, I’m sure.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
“I know, Love, and I am especially with you,” Reagan replied.
Grace smiled. It was a pleasing sight to Reagan. Reagan smiled back.
“How was your day, babe?” Grace asked, changing the subject.
“Good, I guess. No new contracts, but I got a lot of programming down for some of my older clients. If it’s that slow tomorrow, I’ll start reviewing contracts to see who needs updates or possible upgrades. It’ll probably be a slow week,” Reagan answered.
“That’s good for stress levels, right?” Grace questioned.
“Yeah, but makes for boring days. At least, I get to hang out at the bar a couple nights a week for some excitement. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How was your day?”
“Well, great to start off with. Then, it got terrible. But, tonight is shaping up to be a good night,” Grace stated.
“How did your day start off so great?” Reagan asked, puzzled.
“I woke up with the most beautiful woman. She told me she loved me. I told her back. Then, she did the most wonderful thing that I could have hoped for this morning.”
“What was that?”
“Well, she woke up with a smile on her face. She rolled over and made sweet love to me. And, I intend to return the favor tonight,” Grace answered as Reagan blushed.
“Oh, you do? Well, you better get going if you are gonna get her. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just clean up here.”
“Don’t even joke like that, Reagan. I love you. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll deal with them in the morning. They’ll keep. Go take care of Catie. I’ll start on the dishes and meet you in the bedroom,” Grace told her.
Reagan stood and came around the table. She stopped by Grace, leaned over and kissed Grace, before moving on to the sink. She dropped her dishes into the sink and then left the kitchen to go bathe and put Catie to bed.
Grace followed Reagan to the sink. She rinsed what could be put in the dishwasher. Once the dishwasher was full, Grace filled it with soap and ran it. She filled the sink with water and placed the remaining dishes in it. She was going to let them soak overnight. She, then, checked all the doors to make sure they were locked before heading upstairs for the evening.
Grace met Reagan at the door to the guest room. She watched Reagan finish putting Catie to bed. Catie was already fast asleep. They both stood in the doorway and watched Catie as she slept for a few moments. Grace wished that Reagan could have that kind of peace, again. Grace knew that she couldn’t have that kind of peace, not with work, not with her memories, not with her past, but Grace wanted that kind of peace and innocence for Reagan.
“She’s so beautiful,” Reagan said.
“Just like her mother,” Grace replied.
“Innocence and peace, I want her to have that as long as she can.”
“I know, Reagan, I know. I want it for her as well. I don’t want anything to happen to her that would spoil her inner light. That is why her father will never be allowed to do anything with her if he survives this investigation,” Grace told her.
“Gracie—“
“I know, Reagan, I know. I can’t help but want him dead. But, I’ll promise you this: I won’t kill him unless he threatens Catie or contacts her in anyway. I am not going to let him get custody. It will not happen,” Gracie said forcefully.
“I know, Gracie. Let’s forget about him and all of it. Just take me to bed and hold me tonight. I need to feel your arms around me.”
Grace took Reagan by the hand and led her into Grace’s bedroom. She pulled the covers back on her massive bed. Grace had Reagan sit down. She then proceeded to undress Reagan slowly. Grace let her fingers glide across Reagan’s exposed skin. It was more of a caress. There was little desire behind it, but they both felt the passion in Grace’s touch.
Once Grace had her completely naked, she had Reagan lie back and Grace pulled the covers up onto Reagan. Once she had Reagan in bed, Grace walked around it. Once she was on her side of the bed, Grace undressed, letting her clothes pile up on the floor around her feet. She got in the bed and immediately pulled Reagan into her body. Grace had to curb the desire burning in her soul and concentrate on cuddling with Reagan until they both slept. Grace sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Four
Sam stood in Tabitha’s studio in awe. Tabitha moved around the studio cleaning up just enough so they had a place to sit and work. Sam walked the studio, taking in all the paintings and other artworks that Tabitha had made. Tabitha watched Sam out of the corner of her eye. She noted which ones that Sam stopped and admired and the works that Sam studied. Sam didn’t know she was being watched because Tabitha knew how to watch without being seen.
“Find something you like?” Tabby asked her.
“Just one? No, I like them all. I will say however that I like the paintings the most. I’m not a big fan of sculptures. I’m sorry,” San answered, truthfully.
“I take no offense. Sculpture isn’t for everyone. I so often don’t show them when I have an exhibit. If I do, I only send just a few,” Tabby replied.
“No wonder they are so expensive.”
Tabitha laughed. Sam looked at her and smiled. It lightened the mood between them. Tabitha studied Sam, acknowledging every detail as an artist does.
“Have you ever sat for anyone?”
“Sat?” Sam questioned.
“Posed for an artist?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Ever thought about it?” Tabitha asked.
“Not really.”
“Ever wanted to?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Would you?” Tabitha continued to press.
“I guess. I might. If the reason was right, then I would think about it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tabitha replied.
Sam smiled, again. She didn’t know what it was about Tabitha that unnerved her, but she knew that Tabitha had gotten to her as soon as Sam walked into the studio. Sam knew it wasn’t some sort of hero worship. She had no desire to be an artist.
“So what exactly seems to be your issue?”
“Excuse me?”
“With your program. All either of you said was that it needs an artist’s touch. What exactly is that going to entail for me?” Tabitha examined.
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I’m a former computer crimes detective. I know code and how to write it, but I don’t have an artist’s touch. I can enter standard scientific standards, and witness descriptions, but the drawings always look two dimensional.”
“Two dimensional? But, aren’t they 2D? I don’t understand.”
“Here, I’ll show you,” Sam stated, putting her laptop on Tabitha’s cleaned off work station.
Tabitha grabbed a nearby stool and sat down. She watched the screen as Sam pulled up the program. Sam didn’t know if she should create new file or pull up one from the case. She decided to pull up Reagan’s case. Three different sketches came up.
Tabitha looked at the sketches, studying them. She didn’t say anything at first, just looked at the sketches. She wondered why there were three, two female and one male.
“This is a current case?” Tabitha finally asked.
“The only case,” Sam replied.
“How much can you tell me?”
“About?” Sam questioned, squirming on her stool.
“How much can y
ou tell me about this case? Is this the one you’re working on, now? How much can I know to help you with the sketches?”
“I dunno,” Sam stated.
“Okay, well, what type of case is it?”
“Rape-homicide,” Sam answered.
“Great, should have known that it would be nasty.”
“It is,” Sam replied.
“Okay, well, can you tell me who the sketches are?”
“Umm…”
“Okay, no names, just stuff about the case,” Tabitha stated and then pointed at Reagan’s picture. “Who is this?”
“Victim number one and the only survivor that we know of at this time” Sam replied.
“Well this sketch is really good. White female, approximate age mid to late twenties, probably had a hard childhood, but this sketch,” Tabitha said pointing at Catie’s, “White female, child, approximate age five to eight, very vivacious and loves to laugh.”
“You got all that from the sketches?”
“It’s in the eyes. You took these from pictures. Why?”
“The child is the product of the rape.”
“Bloody Hell,” Tabitha murmured, “She’s the victim’s child?”
“Yes.”
“So sketch number three is the rapist?”
“Possibly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I used the mother and daughter to try to get a sketch of the rapist father,” Sam explained.
“You tried to reverse the algorithm to get a sketch of the rapist?”
“Yes,” Sam replied.
“Brilliant!” Tabitha responded, “Do you have any other sketches of the rapist?”
“No.”
“So, this is where I come in?”
“Yes.”
“Nasty and hard, just the way I like it.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was a joke,” Tabitha replied. “Grace is notorious for asking me to help with the extremely nasty, disgusting, and hard cases. Actually, I prefer it that way. It makes it all the sweeter when the bars slam closed on the perp’s cell.”
“You know too many cops,” Sam stated.
“Honestly…I only know you and Gracie.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, and I’ve only helped Gracie in Atlanta and on some Army cases. She said there was something about an artist’s touch that helped with perspective. I guess my sketches and drawings clued her into something that they may have overlooked otherwise. Sometimes it was something so small in a picture or photograph that I rendered larger for them, or a difference in the sketch, that would give her the break she needed. Trust me; I’m not trying to make a living doing this. This isn’t something that I would do for fun. My art is fun. This…this is justice.”
“I understand. Not many people can stomach police work. This is my first homicide. This is my first field case,” Sam told her.
“Oh,” Tabitha replied.
“Why?”
“Just trying to figure out how I got asked to help.”
“Cormack brought it up on-scene. She didn’t understand why Grace hadn’t called you, yet. I didn’t know that you worked with the LSO or I’d’ve looked up your number and called you myself. Grace reminded me that we needed my mother’s permission, first, so I am glad she is the one that made the call,” Sam stated.
“Good ol’ Cormack, always thinking. Grace can be stubborn sometimes though. But, why did you need your mother’s permission?”
“She is our captain,” Sam replied.
“That must be interesting,” Tabitha said, watching Sam again.
“Why?”
“Because your mother is your boss.”
“The sheriff is my boss. Mom is my captain, my supervisor’s supervisor. Grace is my lieutenant and supervisor, right now,” Sam stated.
“So, Grace is your boss?”
“Yeah, in a manner of speaking, you could say that.”
“So, back to this. This is the mother and this is her child. You used the child to try to make a sketch of the rapist. This is what you got. Then what?” Tabby asked.
“The program also has facial recognition. We took the sketch of the rapist and ran it. Got nothing. Either this guy hasn’t been arrested or isn’t in any accessible database. He can’t have an ID in this state. He hasn’t served in the military. No DNA, no blood, no hairs, no semen, we got squat.”
“Only one survivor and a child. That should only get you half a profile. Anything else you can tell me?”
“We have half a profile, half a sketch and no leads. This guy is escalating and making bloody messes. We need something.”
“Do you think that I can meet with the mother and child?”
“I dunno.”
“I need to make my own sketches.”
“What’s wrong with these?” Sam questioned, getting defensive.
“Nothing, they are good for a starting point. But, there may be something that I can see that your program didn’t. I understand that we don’t want to upset the victim anymore, but I might be able to help your program create a better sketch.”
“I’ll have to ask Grace,” Sam replied, still not liking Tabitha’s presumptiveness.
“Then ask her. I’ll need to see them in order to see if there is something that your program missed. Then maybe something that I can see that you two didn’t see. It is an artist’s curse,” Tabitha explained.
“Trust me, Miss Grey. I understand your passion and knowledge. I’m just not sure how well Grace is going to take your request,” Sam replied.
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“Usually, but these are extraneous circumstances,” Sam stated.
“We won’t know until you ask.”
“I know.”
“You’re scared of her, aren’t you?” Tabitha asked.
“Have you ever seen Grace mad?”
“Yes, actually, I have seen the great Gracie Lynn O’Shea very angry.”
“Then you understand my hesitation,” Sam replied.
“There is something that you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” Sam said simply.
“Something big?”
“Could be.”
“Does if effect the case?”
“Probably,” Sam stated.
“Is it something personal?”
“You could say that.”
“Grace knows the victims personally, doesn’t she?” Tabitha asked.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“You are being very vague,” Tabitha quipped.
“Part of the job.”
“You aren’t going to fill me in, are you?”
“Can’t. That is above my pay grade. You’ll have to talk to Grace if you want to know specifics. She is my supervisor. She is the only one who can decide how anyone related to the police side of the case can tell you. Now, if the victims do agree to your request, only after Grace approves it, I can’t say what the victims might tell you,” Sam explained.
“I think you are trying to tell me something without telling me something,” Tabitha replied.
“Why would you say that?” Sam questioned, cocking an eyebrow at her.
“I don’t know, but is just seems that way. I’ll wait until after you talk to Grace before I ask anything else. I know that you won’t tell me anything anyway,” Tabitha stated.
“I’m sorry,” Sam replied, sadness in her eyes.
“It’s okay. I know you are doing your job. I can’t fault you for that. Don’t worry about it. If I really wanted to know, I’d’ve called Grace already.”
“Please don’t.”
“I said: ‘I would have.’”
“I know.”
“Calm down, Tiger,” Tabitha told her.
“Sorry. This is my first major case and my first field case. I don’t want to blow it. I’m trying to learn real fast because this is so different from compu
ter crimes,” Sam replied.
“Okay, so we need to move on. We need to lighten up your mood. I can wait. Drink?”
“Sure,” Sam replied, wondering where Tabitha was going now.
“What’s your poison?” Tabitha asked, crossing the studio and walking back into the main apartment and living area.
“Whatcha got?” Sam called back in question.
“I’m an artist! I have everything! What do you prefer?”
“Vodka. Neat. No ice.”
“Just one?”
“For now,” Sam answered.
Tabitha came back into the studio carrying two shot glasses and a 750 of Smirnoff. She put a shot glass in front of Sam before she poured. Then she poured herself one. She downed it in one gulp, much to Sam’s amazement.
“Is it chilled?” Sam asked.
“I like mine cold, but not icy.”
“Nice,” Sam said and then took her shot.
Tabitha was quick to refill and down. Sam sat there and watched Tabitha take two more shots. Sam downed her second. Tabitha filled her glass as soon as it hit the worktable.
They stared at each other. Neither of them knew where to go from there. Sam smiled. Tabitha smiled back.
“Want another shot?” Tabitha asked her.
“Sure,” Sam answered.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s just the case.”
“I’m sure. Have another drink,” Tabitha said, refilling Sam’s shot glass. “It’ll help you forget for a while.”
“Thanks,” Sam answered.
They clinked glasses and drank. Tabitha refilled them both. They drank them down again.
“Promise me on thing,” Sam slurred.
“What?”
“You won’t talk to Grace until I do.”
“Okay, I won’t. Come on, Tiger. Let’s put you to bed. You’re done.”
“Alright, Tabby Cat,” Sam slurred.
Tabitha laid Sam on her bed and went back to the studio. She pulled out a canvas and began to paint. The urge to capture Sam in paint was too strong to deny. She could only hope that Sam would understand.
Chapter Five
Grace sat at her desk adding in her notes and thoughts from yesterday. She looked across her desk to the empty chair facing her. Grace wondered what Samantha was doing because she wasn’t in the office or at her desk.