Nocere

by Max Ellendale

  "Your life has become a ball of excitement, Rosie." Ainsley grinned as she nudged my elbow.

  "A little. It's stressful sometimes. Samirah has been a bit different with me lately, but she's had to work all week, so we didn't get a chance to talk about it other than our usual brief conversations between her cases. I'm staying at her place tomorrow, though. I also need to talk to Rebecca." I let out an exaggerated sigh and tore off a bite of crispy crust.

  "About the parole hearing?"

  I nodded and she patted my knee. "You want to face her now, don't you?"

  "I want to tell her to go fuck herself. Is that what facing her means?"

  "Yes." Ainsley chuckled. "A little. Come to the salon tonight. Jordan is working late then we're going to have a beer night in the upstairs apartment."

  "Just the two of you?"

  "Well, for us and all the girls working late. Frankie's doing some tattooing out of the shop so Jordan's booking later appointments for hair and stuff, too. We've got the craft beer upstairs, and ink and body art downstairs."

  "Maybe. I'll think about it."

  Ainsley scoffed. "No way. You go have dinner at Stella's with all those people, but don't want to hang out with me and Jordan? So rude."

  I laughed and shook my head. "Samirah was with me."

  "So? Is she your safety blanket? Can't I be your blanket?" She hopped up and tossed her arms around my neck, then proceeded to smooch my cheek a dozen times.

  "Ainsley!" I cracked up as I struggled, playfully, against her. "Boundaries!"

  "Blankets have no boundaries." She continued to squeeze me, though now we both laughed. "Please come hang out with us? I'll drive you after work and won't leave your side."

  "Only if you promise to quit strangling me to death."

  "Done!"

  "Hooray." Ainsley giggled as she returned to her seat. "So, that's settled. What's going on with the serial case? The FBI is everywhere lately. Again. Not surprisingly. And you've given me extra work, mind you, so thanks."

  "I'm not sure." I laughed at her topic jumping and clipped sentences. "I'm an analyst. Once I analyze, I move on. I'm working on trafficking cases right now and tracking trends."

  "I know I've asked before, but things like that don't get to you?"

  "A normal amount, but what I'm doing is work to help stop the bad things. It makes it better and meaningful," I said, gesturing to the computer screen that ran a data matrix while we chatted.

  "Good for you." Ainsley smiled, her soft gaze as supportive as ever.

  We both turned toward the door in time to hear boots thudding down the hall followed by the boisterous voice of a woman.

  "I told you this case was a serial, Benji," the woman spat, and the sound of crunching papers followed. "Don't run away from me, jerk."

  Detective Stiles' laugh echoed in the alcove near my office. "Go home, Sal."

  "No. You should've told me." Again, the woman huffed and I looked to Ainsley.

  "Your wife is gonna be pissed that you’re here. I thought you two retired your Rainbow P.I. badges." The distinct sound of a fist meeting a body sounded. "Ow, asshole. Calm your tits, Sal." Stiles chuckling remained, but the woman's tantrum continued.

  "We're helping someone," she nearly growled. "And everything she said she remembered is now plastered all over the Seattle Times. We had this case a decade ago and I fucking told you it was a serial."

  "Okay. Okay." Stiles sighed.

  "I want to talk to the analyst who found this shit," the woman demanded. "Where's Ramos?"

  "Ramos didn't find it. One of her team members did, and you need to calm the fuck down before you go barging around here. Walsh'll be pissed."

  "What's he gonna do? Fire me?" The woman scoffed.

  "He'll take it out on me. Calm the hell down."

  "Fine," she grumbled.

  "Who is that?" I whispered to Ainsley who listened just as intently as me.

  "Ben's old partner. Sali James. Ever meet her?"

  "No. The name's familiar though."

  "It should be." Ainsley returned her attention to me when the two in the hall stopped shouting and spoke quieter. "She's the one who took down the Four Point Killer and his partner all those years ago. She was also one of his victims."

  My mouth fell open slightly as Stiles made a grab for the woman who stormed my office in the middle of their heated exchange. She stood there, nearly a foot shorter than him, with her arms folded over her chest. At first, I didn't think she could've been who Ainsley said she was. She appeared like a grumpy teenager in sagging jeans, tattered sneakers, and a floppy hooded sweater. A single eyebrow lifted when her gaze met mine. Bright blue eyes laden with an impassioned stare didn't match the rest of her.

  "'Sup, Monson," said Sali, nodding in Ainsley's direction.

  "Not much. Just listening to your tantrum. Good one. Solid nine." Ainsley pretended to hold up a scorecard. It took Sali a second before she laughed.

  "Shut up." She rolled her eyes at Ainsley then looked back at me. "Are you Rose?"

  "Yes." I gulped and glanced to Stiles who offered me a small smirk.

  "Can I have your data on the serial rapist case, please?" Sali smiled and hopped up to sit on the desk across from me.

  "Um…" I glanced to Stiles again then shook my head. "No. You can't. Who are you?"

  Sali flailed her arms, and gave the desk a kick before she rounded on Stiles again. "You said be nice. I was nice and now look." She swung back around to me. "Give it to me or I'll just figure out how to take it."

  Ainsley smacked Sali's arm, Stiles shouted, and I stared at them.

  A laugh escaped me at the ridiculousness of the situation. "You can't take encrypted data off police department servers. And you're very rude."

  "And you're pretty hot. Now that we both stated facts, let's get to work here." Sali clapped her hands and glanced between us. "C'mon."

  "Looks like you'll just have to follow the rules this time, Sali." Ainsley's amused grin made her eyes twinkle with mischief. "Walsh will have to give it to you."

  "You can always ask the FBI," I said, pointing toward the door.

  "FBI?" Sali hopped off the table. "Is Caroline on this case, Ben?"

  "Yes." He laughed and tossed his hands in the air. "I give up. Do what you're going to do, but I'm tattling on you to Maggie."

  "Shut up." She punched his arm on the way past before storming out of my office.

  "Sorry, Rose." Ben chuckled. "She's a runaway train at times so warnings are minimal."

  "Well, she seems effective at least." I shrugged.

  He nodded toward the door before heading over. "Better go apply the brakes. Later, folks."

  "Bye." Ainsley snickered before returning her attention to me.

  "Was she always like that?" I asked, shaking my head.

  "Always. But she was really good at her job so she got away with everything." Ainsley wagged her brows. "She said you're hot. I agree."

  "Oh, come on." I tutted my tongue and she grinned. "Is there an abundance of lesbians around here?"

  "It's law enforcement. Of course." She shrugged. "C'mon. Let's go watch the show."

  "I'll say. You go watch then report your findings." I smirked as I lifted my glasses from the desk. "I'm staying here."

  "Fine, drama pooper." Ainsley nudged my shoulder.

  "Very funny." I waved her off and she headed out in a flood of snickers.

  My phone chimed and I pulled it from my pocket to see a message from Sam. Before I even read it, I smiled. I tapped her message and her words filled my screen.

  Stay with me tonight?

  I'd like that.

  I don't know when I'll be home, but I'd like you to be there.

  My heart skipped a beat with a tangle of emotion over her honest request, and concern as to why she requested it. I will be.

  She didn't say anything after that, so I pocketed my phone and headed out to break the news to Ainsley.

  ***

  With a p
romise to hang out with Jordan and Ainsley over the weekend, I headed to Sam's apartment after stopping home for a shower and some clothes. I made it there by six, and spent some time rifling through her kitchen with the idea to fix something for dinner. Nothing met my fingertips except empty cupboards, and a minimalist refrigerator with mostly leftovers, some of which had questionable expiries. Normally, Sam had at least a few things, but tonight seemed unusual. When I gave myself a moment to settle, I glanced around the room and noted the untidy nature of things. The trash hadn't been taken down, dishes lingered in the sink, mainly coffee mugs, and blankets lay strewn across the sofa. This wasn't usual for Sam either. I tried not to think on it too much, because maybe she got called into work early.

  While I thumbed through the takeout delivery apps, keys jingled in the hall and I looked up in time to see Stella appear in the doorway. Clad in her usual scrubs, her drawn expression brought a stroke of worry to my chest.

  "Hi," I said, standing up to greet her. "I thought you were Sam."

  "She's extra late tonight it seems then." Stella set her purse down on the table and I noticed that her hair hung down to her shoulders, and she looked way more put together than her usual post-work visits. "Hi. It's good to see you."

  "You, too. Are you just going in to work now?"

  She nodded. "In a bit. I was stopping by to check in with Sam." Her words, delicate and crisp, betrayed her stoic expression.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No, no. Nothing's wrong," she said, her lips tightening to a thin line.

  "Then why are you still standing with the door open and acting strangely?" My brow furrowed and the nerves in my chest melted down to swirl in my stomach. "You're making me nervous."

  "I'm sorry, Rosie." She stepped inside and shut the door finally. "I don't mean to."

  "I don't like when you and Sam have such a serious, calm expression, but your eyes are screaming. It's upsetting." I found myself blurting my feelings to Stella in a way I didn't expect.

  "I'm sorry." She came to sit beside me. "I'm just a little worried."

  "About what?" I set my phone down and turned to face her.

  "About Sam." She glanced to the door then back to me. "She's okay. It's my worry."

  My brow furrowed and my nervousness turned to anxiety in a heartbeat. "How come?"

  "She doesn't want me to say anything." She drew in a deep breath. "Not even to Alice. I've never kept anything from her."

  "Stella, I don't know you very well, but I'm really anxious about everything you're saying to me right now." I stopped myself from wringing my hands together.

  "Sam said you knew…" Confusion rattled her stoic expression and finally, her facade fell away.

  My eyes widened and I said, "She told you what happened to her?"

  Stella nodded. "The other night at dinner. When we were in the kitchen."

  I nodded, my anxiety fading when I knew the truth of Stella's unrest. It made sense now, their long tenure away from the group of us, the crying I heard in the kitchen, plus Sam's recent quietness. "It makes me sad to think about it."

  "Me too." Her shoulders relaxed and sadness dimmed the light in her eyes. "I never knew, Rosie. I just thought...I don't know. I thought her difficulties came from her job or the divorce. Not this." She paused to take a breath. "Knowing that happened to my friend. The things that happened to both of you. I don't know how you've gotten through life so successfully."

  "You should talk, Stella. Seriously." I tucked my feet up on the sofa while facing her. "We all have our own stories."

  "I know...it's just. I care about both of you and knowing you were hurt. Knowing Allie was hurt. Everyone. I just…" She drew in a deep breath again. "I think I'm vicariously traumatized by hearing about what happened to Sam."

  "I think so too. Sam's story makes me sad and I know she was alone so much. The rest of us had support and people who loved us. Remember that difference. That's what my psychiatrist says anyway. We're trying to be those people for Sam."

  Stella patted my knee as she swallowed down whatever emotions followed. "She's still learning to trust and settle down. She doesn't trust anyone. At all."

  "Except you. She trusts you otherwise she wouldn't have moved here."

  "I'm glad I can be a solid friend for her." Stella let out a soft sigh. "I better go to work and stop talking about this before she walks in."

  "Okay." I held my hand to her and she accepted the gesture.

  "Now you have the doctor face." She chuckled, nodding in my direction. "You're a strong woman, Rosie. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

  "Thanks. That means a lot." I squeezed her hand and she smiled a little.

  "I'll stop in after my shift in the morning," she said as she stood.

  "Okay." I watched her head to the door, knowing she would stick to her word. "See you later."

  She waved a finger at me before grabbing her bag and heading out.

  My mind continued to spiral around the disclosure. Why would Sam tell Stella what happened to her so randomly in the middle of a dinner party? I knew something was going on, but this was only the tip of it.

  I stood from my spot on the sofa after ordering a round of takeout sushi, and picked up my overnight bag to tote to the bedroom. When I flicked on the light, yet another unusual sight greeted me. Sam's bed sat unmade, with her computer on and an open notebook on the floor. Laundry covered the floor near the hamper, and the edge of the bed. I frowned then, noting that this couldn't have been a one-night fluke, but perhaps the entire tenure of her work week. I set my bag down, and instead of obsessing over Sam's emotional status, I took a leap of judgment and tidied up her room.

  With her laundry gathered in the basket, and some tossed in the washer, I returned to the bedroom to fix up the bed. I set the laptop on the nightstand and the screen lit up right away to reveal an internet browser with half a dozen tabs open. The news remained at the forefront, which I promptly ignored and closed the cover. I scooped up the notebook, and smiled at Sam's delicate handwriting that covered the pages. Unlike most doctors, her elegant scrawl belonged in history books penned by infamous scribes. I set the book down, cautious to not read anything, on top of the computer. I moved on to changing the sheets and making up the bed.

  By the time eight in the evening rolled around, I'd cleaned nearly all of Sam's apartment, did the laundry, and set the delivered sushi in the fridge. After I cleaned that as well. I stood there, in the middle of her living room, with my hands on my hips when the realization that I'd overly channeled my anxiety into tidying someone else's house.

  "Bugger," I muttered, and glanced to the dark windows with faint lights from the harbor flickering in. All I could do was hope it didn't piss her off.

  With the last load of laundry in the dryer, and the rest folded in the basket on top of the washer, I returned to the sofa and decided to flick on a show. I checked my texts to see a message from Stella.

  She's not here, she said.

  Not at work? My brow furrowed, but the moment I sent it, I knew where she was.

  Kylie said she left at six.

  She probably went to go see her mother…

  Yikes. Understood. I'll check in later.

  Okay.

  I let out a soft sigh, and waited for Sam with bated breath. I lost myself in the murder-mystery I chose and allowed the violence and police work to distract me from my worry. However, I never got to find out if they caught the killer because when the closing of the front door woke me up, the television scrolled the end credits of the movie.

  Sam set her purse down, and I watched as she unwrapped the intricate red and purple scarf from her neck. She must've figured I was still asleep because she chucked the scarf in the empty closet without glancing over. I watched her until she drew her gaze to mine. Immediately, a smile curved her lips and brought a fragment of light to her features darkened by fatigue.

  "Hi, honey," I said, attempting to unwrap my feet from the blanket.

&nbs
p; "Hi." Sam wasted not a second before grabbing me in a hug and tackling me back onto the sofa. I laughed as I held on to her while she pressed her lips to my neck. "Thanks for being here," she said, her voice tangled with a soft sigh.

  "Of course." I kissed her when she leaned back and she stroked every curve of my lips and jaw. "Bad day at work?"

  "Work was fine," she said, her hands wandering up my shirt without much warning. Cool fingers cupped my bare breasts and I gasped.

  "Doctor hands." I squeaked, my back arching toward her when I sucked in my breath.

  "Rosie." She laughed out my name before nipping my chin. "Maybe I should warm them up faster then."

  "How?" I smiled at her teasing, but she already began her trek downward. Before I could even process her homecoming, she wriggled her hand behind my leggings and cupped my pussy.

  "Like that." She kissed me hard, biting my bottom lip after. "Let me fuck you," she crooned, her lips against mine.

  I nodded my agreement, heat bursting from my core and radiating from head to toe. Sam didn't hold back and she nearly tore my pants off me as she moved over me. My fingers tangled in her hair, holding her mouth to mine as she speared me, thrusting and rocking with me in a way so comfortable for us that I couldn't help dissolving under her. My body quaked, and her arms trembled when she stoked a raging climax from me until my gasp broke our connection.

  Her teeth raked against my shoulder, and she withdrew her fingers from me, only to bring them to her lips after. I shuddered at the erotic gesture, and she flicked her tongue over my neck once before she lowered herself half on me and half on the sofa with her head on my shoulder.

  When I calmed down, I tucked her hair behind her ear and she let her hand fall to the space between my breasts. I held her to me while she stared at a strand of my hair beside it.

  "Sam," I whispered, but she shook her head, pressing a single finger to my lips. I nodded and both of us fell still.

  After a few minutes, she scooted up to press her lips to my neck. "Turn over. On your knees," she crooned, her voice husky in my ear.