Chapter 15
She took a deep breath to calm herself before grabbing her briefcase and getting out of her little Neon. She slammed the door a trifle too hard and took another deep breath.
Last night had been the worst. She had come home, thinking that she would work herself into a coma. It hadn't worked that way. She should be exhausted. Normally would be exhausted. But her brain wouldn't turn off. Bodies and Nick, the case, the way he had felt against her body, in her body. She finally had slammed the file shut and shoved a dining room chair so hard it had almost gone out the window.
She had stormed into her bedroom, a room she had been avoiding since she got home. She hadn't even changed clothes yet. He was there, a ghost with a sexy smell that had infused her sheets with his presence. She viciously tore them off the bed and dumped them into her laundry hamper. If she still had a job tomorrow, she would take them to the coin laundries and wash them with a good dose of her favorite laundry softener to get rid of his smell.
She tore the pillowcase off the pillow he had used, refusing to let her hands linger on it. The pillow went on the floor. She wouldn't use it tonight, she couldn't. Then she noticed her hands were shaking and sat on the floor, fighting tears.
Why? She worked so hard, had kept a sterling reputation all through the academy, had dated no one. The occasional beer or study date was all she would do and she had gotten the reputation as an ice queen. A reputation which had made the guys all the more persistent.
She'd known what would be going through the office when she started working with Nick. He was too good looking, too prominent in the department for nothing to be said. Cops were some of the worst when it came to departmental gossip. They were good at ferreting out the facts even if those facts were based on nothing more than rumor. She shouldn't have been surprised when things had gotten said, when the hints and sly looks had started her way.
She hadn't even been surprised when some of the guys had started hitting on her, thinking that she was giving it away to get ahead. She'd laughed it off, joked it off, and secretly fumed that she couldn't be given the same consideration as the other guys because of her gender.
Finally, wiping her face of the tears she hadn't realized she'd shed, she got up and remade her bed. She tore off her clothes and pulled on a big tee shirt. Then climbed in bed. She tossed and turned, finally getting up way too early for work. She hadn't slept more than an hour and that had been full of dreams, dreams where she had run from a monster that haunted her with a gleaming dagger. Dreams about running from him and into Nick's arms.
He had held her, caressed her until she was naked and needful, her body writhing against his as she begged him to take her. Then he had simply turned her around and she was in front of a room full of uniformed cops, all men. All laughing at the picture she made and calling her names like slut and whore. She woke feeling restless, ashamed, cranky and mean tempered.
Her toast had burned, her instant coffee too strong. She hadn't been satisfied with any of her clothing choices, being overly critical because of what was being gossiped about her.
Her car hadn't wanted to start this morning and she had broken a nail trying to get the hood latch undone. When it had finally started, she realized that she had forgotten to get gas yesterday and it was on empty. She didn't have time to stop on the way to work, and because it was a Friday, she knew gas prices would be higher before she could get to the gas station.
She wanted to sit down and cry. But, because she was tough, she got out of her car at the department, turned to slam the door and brushed against the mud that had caked her car from the dirt roads she'd driven on to get to the body dump yesterday.
She swiped at the mud on the back of her pants and then gave up. She walked into the station, past the main desk where one of the sergeants on duty pissed her off by leering at her. She slammed past him and into the room designated for the Detectives. There were two desks sitting there, facing each other, each had another chair bolted down next to it. Both desks were empty, but that didn't surprise her. She was over an hour early for the meeting.
She by passed the desks and headed for Nick's office. She had phone calls she needed to make, details to round up. Busy work, her brain screamed. But she ignored it.
She opened the door a crack and peaked in, not wanting to see him this early. If he was in, she would go down the hall and sneak into one of the other offices, maybe even the conference room where they were holding the meeting this morning. One of the tasks that had been assigned to her was to find a place where they could set up shop.
Someplace close enough by to be readily available, but not quite so easy for the press to find.
The story was getting more notice in the papers, she had seen news vans parked at many of the hotels in town. Hopefully they would have this whole case rounded up before it could go national. But it would be a fantastic mark in her jacket if she could have her first real case she was a part of be a serial killer that they caught and sent to prison. It would go along way to building her reputation.
He wasn't in his office, she closed the door behind her. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic. This room was smaller than some of the jail cells she had seen. She sat behind his desk, catching his scent from the jacket that was on the back of his chair.
Had that been there last night? She couldn't remember. Oh, well, if he was here, he could kick her out. She'd made it pretty clear that the only relationship that they were going to have was a work relationship. It was as if it was a sign, they slept together and everyone found out. Well, not found out but had an idea. She knew a real relationship wouldn't last. There would be way too many roadblocks for that. Not least of all that one of them would have to quit working here if they became a couple. Oh, and the fact that the man didn't believe in serious commitment. What had she been thinking yesterday?
That was just it, she hadn't been thinking. She hadn't wanted to think while they were sitting in the park soaking up the sun. She'd wanted to be a regular girl in the park with a regular guy. And there wasn't anything regular about this situation. She heaved a big sigh, and reached for the phone to call her father. He had a small warehouse in town, not too far from here. If it wasn't being used, maybe he would be willing to let her rent it for a few weeks.
"Big sigh. You okay, Chelle?"
He was standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in his hands. He had seen her come in, had watched her kick at her car and then try and wipe the mud off of her pants. He had seen the mood she was in. It matched his. He hadn't been able to go home last night. The house was too empty and not even the idea of pounding nails, picturing the Sheriff's piggy little face had persuaded him. He had sat in Sheri Meridian's apartment, listening to the traffic on the interstate a mile away. Wondering if she had sat like that, if she liked to have noise or if she enjoyed the quiet evenings. Wondering what had convinced her to go with the man who had caused her death. Wondering if she had even seen it coming.
He wondered if she had a boyfriend, a lover. He wondered if she liked chicken, or if she ate junk food. He wanted to feel her, to understand her.
But the apartment was empty, cold. Any personal belongings of interest had been taken into evidence. The rooms were coated with finger print dust, covered in regular dust. The air was stale, ripe with the smell of rotting food and spoiled milk. Even opening a window hadn't done anything but blow the smell around. So after an hour, he got up and left.
He drove around thinking, finding himself at the dump scenes. The yellow crime scene tape was getting ragged, blown by the wind. The houses were dark, windows black holes. He felt nothing there either.
He pointed his car in the direction of home, even though he really didn't want to go there. He needed sleep, a shower and food, not necessarily in that order. What he wanted most was to go see Michelle. Without conscience thought, he headed towards her apartment.
He sat outside in the dark looking up at the lights that were on in her window, wondering if she was thinking of him. He wished he had the nerve to go up there but he knew she didn't want to see him. He couldn't understand this need he felt to see her, to be with her. It wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before. She was so unique. She made him feel special when he was around her.
He sounded like a teenage boy with a crush. Disgusted, he started the car and pulled away, refusing to look back even though he wanted to.
He finally went home, not pulling into his driveway until almost midnight. He carried in his briefcase and a bag of junk food he probably wouldn't eat. His mind was foggy, he was that tired. He dropped everything next to the door, shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it where it dropped and collapsed on his sofa, asleep before his head hit the cushion.
He woke up a few hours later, stiff from sleeping on the too short couch, his neck muscles screaming because of the way his head had been cricked when he'd slept. He took as hot a shower as he could stand, letting the heavy stream of water punish the muscles in his back. He put his hands against the wall, letting the water beat down on his head.
He left the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his lean waist. He walked through the house, picking up the junk food and throwing the stale cheeseburger and fries away. He searched around in his refrigerator, grabbed an apple and spread some of the paper work on his table.
It was way too early to go in to work. But he couldn't work at home. She was a ghost in the background, teasing him about his neatness, chiding him about his sloppy work area. She laughed at him and with him. He could almost smell her here. He gave up and got dressed.
He'd been in his office for two hours before he'd gone out to get a cup of coffee and had watched her walk in. When he had heard that sigh, he thought his heart would break. She looked defeated. His Chelle didn't look defeated, she always looked determined and capable of taking on the world. He had done this to her. And he didn't know what to do to make it better.
He watched her work up a smile that he knew she didn't feel.
"Of course. Everything's fine. I was just going to call about renting a small warehouse I know of. We could use it for an office for the task force if it sounds okay to you?" Why did this feel so hard? So wrong? He sat down her cup of coffee in front of her, watching her pick it up and sip at it.
"Where is it?"
"Down on Industrial row. Not too far from here." She took another sip, a way to keep something between them. "I know the owner."
"Great," he sat in the chair across from her. Sipped his own coffee. "Can we find out a price before the meeting?"
"Give me a second and I'll call."
She didn't want him in the room while she made the call but she could tell he wasn't going to leave. She dialed her parents number, knowing that her father would be fixing coffee right now and her mother would be slicing fruit for breakfast before they both left for their respective jobs.
Her mom picked up the phone on the first ring. She smiled at the sound of her voice, reminding her that she hadn't called home since this whole thing started. She missed her family.
"Hey Mo." Her mother wasn't the best typist in the world so when her and her brother had gotten her a home computer for Christmas, she always was making typos in their emails. "Mo" had come from one of those typos and had stuck, a personal joke between the two of them.
