NIKKI/NORA

Here Comes Trouble

Silk

Title: Here Comes Trouble

Fandom & Pairing: Nikki & Nora

Author: Silk

Email: katiepult@gmail.com

Disclaimers: Nikki & Nora are the property of Nancylee Myatt and Warner Bros. Television. No infringement intended.

Summary: Nikki & Nora meet and are assigned their first case.

Comments: Beta’d by fallon_ash & tanama30 & tigger2384. Based on the best TV pilot that never was, “Nikki & Nora”, which you can find on YouTube. This is the first part of the “Trouble” universe series.

Word Count: 206,574

Here Comes Trouble

Silk

My Grandfather, a beat cop, had what he liked to call his “trouble radar” and he always claimed that it never was wrong. It wouldn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, if he got that shiver up his back he knew trouble was coming.

Dad had it as well and it helped him on the force, but he always said that that only time it had ever failed him was when he met my mother. Since she ended up having 4 boys and me, the 1 girl, I could understand why he thought that.

Out of all those children, only two of us joined the family business, the NOPD, something for which my mother was thankful. I knew she stayed up worrying for me and Bobby more nights than she had for Daddy, but I loved being on the job.

Of all my brothers and I, only I inherited the “radar” and I was thankful that I had, since it had saved my skin more than a few times.

And now here I was, in the squad room sitting at my desk contemplating my former partner’s promotion and who he might saddle me with for a replacement. I was weighing the pros and cons of a “good ole boy” vs. a “golden boy”, which meant a fast rising, newly promoted to detective, barely long enough in plain clothes for the paint to dry on his shield.

Of course that’s when it hit me. A long, slow shiver runs up my back to lodge in the small hairs at the base of my skull. Since I knew from experience that “trouble” didn’t necessarily mean bodily harm, I took a leisurely look around the room.

Nothing unusual, I thought.

And then my eyes hit upon her and stay there.

From her Italian leather boots to her salon-styled straight dark brown hair, she reeked of money. But not new money and the brash and flashy attitude that went with it. No she was old money, comfortable in her skin and looking at home wherever she was, whether at a garden party drinking an aged whiskey or in a squad room full of dirty-eyed cops who knew they didn’t have a chance in hell with her, but would be fantasizing tonight about her while making love with their wives.

Trouble on two long legs with a gold badge hooked to her belt on the left, across from the Glock on her right hip.

Trouble with manicured nails and a sway to her walk that most women took years to affect, and which I somehow knew was wholly natural to her.

Trouble with a dazzling and knowing smile that told you that yes indeed she knew what you were thinking and at the same time was as warm and comforting as a balmy summer’s evening.

Trouble with dark brown eyes the color of Belgian chocolates… which are looking straight at me.

Trouble… damn, whoever she was, she wasn’t just trouble. She was TROUBLE in capitals with an emphasis on “going to hell with a smile on your face”.

I stand up to greet her as she makes her way to my desk, eyeing the empty one that faces mine for a moment with interest before meeting my eyes again.

Holding her hand out her smile gets even brighter, “Nikki Beaumont. Newly assigned to Special Crimes.”

I reach out and envelope her hand with mine. Not too hard, not soft. She meets it with just the same kind of force. Comfortable. Not competing with the boys in strength and yet more confident than most women give.

“Nora Delaney. Welcome to the club,” I can’t help but smile back. I don’t have the winning smile she does, but I do my best.

She releases my hand and I gesture towards Dan’s office. “Dan… The Lieutenant isn’t in right now. He stepped out for a cup of coffee.” I nod towards the far corner with its mini-kitchenette complete with industrial sized coffee maker.

“A word of advice. Stay away from the brew in here. It’s good enough for the old timers, but if you have any sort of taste for real coffee, drinking what passes for it in here will ruin your taste buds in a week.” “Duly noted.” She steps closer, leaning back against the side of the empty desk. “Delaney. Any relation to Tom Delaney?”

“My father,” I reply. In this city, if you were a cop or knew cops, you knew Tom Delaney. 30 years on the force and retired. A good cop by everyone’s opinion. Me, I was prejudiced and thought he was a great cop, but even better dad.

“Good man, my daddy thought well of him.”

I can’t help my eyebrow from lifting in question.

A look of self-sufferance crosses her face, which surprises me. Maybe she’s used to everyone knowing who she is and who her father is.

“Arthur Beaumont.” The smile doesn’t leave her, but becomes almost defensive, as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, at least I can be comforted by the fact that my well-honed detective skills are right on the money when it comes to her. One look and I pegged her for old money.

“Councilman Beaumont?” I ask, although I already know the answer.

She nods. “Don’t worry though, Detective. I still put my silk panty-hose on one leg at a time.”

Her eyes twinkle merrily at my sudden bark of laughter.

Part 2

Driving through the French Quarter to the NOPD’s 9th Precinct house is quiet enough this early in the morning. Only business men, locals and the odd tourist or two are out. Thankfully, Mardi Gras has been over for a few months, letting the city settle back down to its more normal tempo.

I’m really trying not to be nervous. A new position in the force, a new partner… starting all over again in the give and take that is office politics. It’s a pain, but I’m looking forward to the change. I wanted this job, this particular unit. Only four years in uniform and I’m finally in plainclothes. And I worked my ass off to get here thank you very much.

Thank God I got it too, because I just do not look good in public service blues. And the shoes… I fear I shall have nightmares about those horrid shoes for years.

I walk up the stairs and down the hall to the 9th precinct doors. I pause for only a second to take a deep breath, calming myself and letting all the stress go. There is just no way I’m turning back now.

This is where I want to be. New Orleans Police Department, Special Crimes Unit. I chose this. And Daddy didn’t help me get in here, no matter what the good ole boys think, and no matter that he’d had preferred his little baby girl practice law instead of enforce it.

Six years of college, three of them at law school, and years of practicing on talking without an accent so people take me more seriously. And now I’m here.

The first thing I see when I step into the squad room is cops, about what you’d expect. Of course, it’s the other thing that happens that I also always expect and rather enjoy in an offhanded way.

Lust in every eye that I meet as they roll down and then back up to my face. Their eyes immediately change gears as they see my face, the clothes and the walk, and they know I’m out of their league, which immediately puts points against me in their eyes. And they’d be right that I’m out of their league, but not for the reason they’d think.

Then they all pause at the gun and badge on my belt. See the gold emblem on the silver badge and know that I do indeed belong here. Of course they don’t willingly believe it. I’m far too pretty of a little thing to be a cop, let alone a detective they’re thinking. That momentary look of disbelief on all of their faces before the “cop look” takes over tends to raise my hackles. I smell blood in the water and it ain’t mine. People tend to underestimate me far too easily.

Who did I sleep with to get that badge? Who’s my daddy?

The last one always gets me, but I have become very practiced over the years in not showing it.

My daddy is a fact of my life. The fact that he’s also a powerful member of this city’s political machine doesn’t matter to me as much as it seems to matter to everyone else. He’s my daddy after all. The fact that we have more money than God seems to also be a factor that others can’t seem to get past.

It’s ironic really how people automatically think I’ll use their social and economic standing against them, but they don’t seem to realize how they immediately pigeonhole me the same way. I learned not to care about who has what or where they come from a long time ago, but I also realize how lucky I am that I can feel and believe that way. And that wasn’t something I learned from the Junior League. Most of the ladies in the Garden District would faint dead away if they saw who I usually hang out with.

So it’s okay that these men in blue think the way they do, because I know I’ll either change their minds or I won’t.

And so I smile. That satisfied smile that I’m very good at affecting and sweep my gaze over the rest of the room. It’s then that I see her, the only woman in the room.

Good gracious, she is hot.

That’s my first thought, visceral instinct. Thank god I learned a long time ago not to just spout out whatever might just come into my mind or I would have made a fool out of myself. Of course, that doesn’t prevent me from still thinking them… lots of them.

Oh my. I hope to God I’m not just standing here looking like an idiot.

The placard on her desk says Detective Nora Delaney and my curiosity is piqued by her last name. And her lovely first name. Nora. Rather rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? Especially if you do it the Southern way with a long slow drawl. A bedroom name for sure.

Best not think too hard about that. Best stop thinking like that right now in fact. Damn.

I glance at the desk across from hers, immediately realizing it’s the only empty desk in the room, devoid of personal effects, let alone a stapler or desk calendar. It’s obviously waiting for its new occupant and I suddenly wish that it’s me.

I can’t help but wonder for a moment if perhaps Saint Nicholas is visiting early this year and giving me an early Christmas gift. Lord knows I’ve been good enough…and chaste enough this year to be on the good list. Somewhat. If Nora turns out to be my new partner I think I’m going to actually have to go to church and light a couple candles in thanks. I just hope the Father Harkens doesn’t faint while I’m there. Daddy would be mortified.

As I look back at her I’m captured by her vibrant green eyes and I can feel my lips lifting automatically in a brighter, honest smile. As we continue to keep eye contact as we introduce ourselves, I realize that there’s no reason to be nervous. I’m right where I belong.

And moments later as we walk out the precinct door to grab a cup of coffee, I realize that yes indeed Nora Delaney is hot.

And has a nice ass.

Part 3

Dan can be such an ass sometimes. Like now. Right now he’s being a first class ass. A first class ass who used to be my partner and now is my boss. A first class ass who used to be my partner, is now my boss, and still has the hots for me.

Not that I hadn’t contemplated that particular thought a time or two. Trust me, I’ve seen him with his shirt off. A few times actually. I think he purposefully does it when I’m around just to get a reaction out of me. He’s tall, dark, and good looking in a very athletic, but not bulky way. The boy definitely works out.

But it’s not his hotness that is annoying me at the moment, it’s how he’s trying not to smirk at me in triumph as he instructs Detective Beaumont and myself about our first case together.

Oh, he’s just loving this.

Detective Beaumont doesn’t seem to notice it however, but then I don’t believe the two of them have met. In fact, while she does give him an appreciative eye when he turns around to get a folder out of his file cabinet, which I catch and can’t quite hold back a small snort of amusement about, she is treating him, myself, and the case, very seriously.

A good first impression. Or rather second for me.

Personally, I’m trying not to be too impressed with her, but walking out to get a cup of coffee and chatting casually with the woman has definitely warmed me to her. She may be from money, but she sure acts like it doesn’t matter. Either way… there’s definitely potential there.

Unfortunately, the getting-to-know-you period is going to be on the job. Dan pulls us into his office with a just-called-in case.

“So, we’re working with Robbery on this?” I ask, not really pleased about that. Robbery is full of old timers, set in their ways. Always reminding me of my daddy and the way he used to do things. Plus I carry old baggage from my time there.

“We only just got the call. Robbery is there, along with the daughter who found them and the uniforms first on the scene. It’s looking like a home invasion. Robbery is more than willing to take second plate on this due to the victims at the scene,” Dan pauses for effect.

“Look Ladies, I know this is short notice, but it looks like you’ve already introduced yourselves and I’m sure I can leave my Nora in your safe hands, Nikki.” He smiles oh so charmingly.

The ass.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, Lieutenant. If not we’ll call Herb. We might just need his big, strong arms to protect us little girls. I might even just ask him to come with us to carry our guns. We girls don’t want to break our nails, do we Nikki?”

I am quite good at being condescending when I want to and the smirk I give is just enough for him to roll his eyes and nod in surrender.

“You’ve got that right, Sugah,” Nikki purrs, pouring on a refined Southern accent. “I know I can’t lift a Mint Julep by myself without needing to rush to the manicurist afterwards.”

Trying to keep my laugh in is hard. She’s definitely quick on her feet, showing she’s already got my back.

“Get out of here,” Dan grumps. He thinks he’s cute when he pouts, but no man is cute when they pout.

We escape out of his office, grabbing our jackets, and head out of the building.

“So, what do you drive?” I ask politely. No way am I letting her drive my El Camino, hell I never even let Dan drive it and I’ve always refused to ride in his Honda. Yes, he’s a Honda man. Absolutely no taste in cars that man.

“’68 Mustang,” she replies easily, then stops and turns around to look at me, surprised to find that I’m stock still in the middle of the sidewalk staring at her in shock.

I blink several times, mentally trying to drive some oxygen into my brain. I catch up the few feet that fell between us and we continue. “OK, you’re driving.”

She laughs lightly and looks over at me, steering us across the street toward where she parked. “Surprised Detective?”

“Honestly? Yes. I didn’t expect you to be chauffeured, but I thought maybe you’d be driving a BMW.”

She laughs again and I’m right with her, seeing the humor of it.

“I’ve never been chauffeured, Daddy taught me better than that. Besides, I’m more of a classic kind of gal. Can you really see me driving something as impractical as a BMW to a crime scene?”

“Not anymore. Truce, Detective?” I offer, hoping she accepts my apology. She’s kept my mind off balance since she walked into the squad room.

“It’s Nikki. Please? If we’re going to work together, we’re just going to have to be friends,” she points out as she pulls out a small set of keys. “Ah…here we are. This is my baby. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Yes, it’s beautiful. God, I think I’m in love. I have to drive it. I have to.

“Automatic?”

“Don’t insult me, Detective,” she scolds.

I run my fingertips along the edge of the hood, admiring the lines and the white stripe that runs through the pearly dark maroon paint job. Definitely well built. Fits her driver, I realize. Trouble indeed.

“Sorry, sorry. Automatic would be a crime, wouldn’t it? I’d have to arrest you for that,” I reply mock-seriously. “Do I get to drive?” I ask hopefully.

“Well, if you aren’t going to arrest me and use the cuffs, I’m going to have to say no,” she quips back and unlocks the car, sliding in with practice.

I’m on the passenger’s side, waiting, realizing that she does indeed look good in this car.

Wait a minute. Cuffs? Is she flirting with me?

I blank out a moment before she reaches over, unlocking and opening the door politely for me.

The smell of old leather and an indefinable scent wash over me as I get in and buckle up.

“You take good care of her,” I note, taking a few slow, deep breaths through my nose. Damn, what is that smell? Mixing with the leather of the car, it’s hard to figure out.

She buckles up before she replies, then grips the steering wheel. No pretentious fake pleather wrap for her steering wheel. Nope. Just layers upon layers of slick enamel paint over steel. Stock. Damn.

Nikki starts the car and I smile appreciatively at the sudden roar, then purr of the motor. She turns to me and I look at her. She’s got that look that I’m already getting used to seeing, one full of mischievousness and play. Less than one hour of knowing her and I’m getting a good handle on reading her.

“I am making you drool, Detective?” The skin around her dark brown eyes crinkles up with her smile, I notice.

“Well, your car is,” I answer back quickly, hoping I’m not blushing.

“Shame about that,” she laughs softly and pulls us out into the street.

God. She IS flirting with me.

Part 4

Needless to say I’ve been to a few crime scenes, but this is a different experience for me. It’s amazing how a detective badge and plainclothes changes how the other cops on the scene treat you versus being in blues.

There’s still that look of curiosity, but there’s an air of seriousness at the scene that’s far different than how they look at me at the precinct. I’m sure Nora’s reassuring presence helps. They obviously know her and respect her immediately.

I follow her in, envying the way she moves through the crowd of cops, robbery detectives, and crime scene specialists like a fresh breeze in a stale room.

She walks up immediately to a tall, balding man, who’s spent a bit too much time behind a desk. He easily towers over Nora and myself, but she stands there like she’s the one in charge, and now that we’re here she is, and she knows it.

“Detective Bouvier,” she greets him. She’s got an ’all business’ tone to her voice now, at least so far. I already know she’s not fond of the men in Robbery.

“Detective Delaney,” he responds and his tone is definitely condescending. I immediately decide I don’t like him on principle.

“This is my new partner, Nikki Beaumont,” she motions me surreptitiously to her side.

I smile politely and nod, reaching out at his outstretched hand and shake it, not surprised at the overwhelming pressure but refusing to let the discomfort show. Then I put my hands on my hips, and pointedly check out the room we’re in professionally, following Nora’s lead and letting her talk to the big oaf. I get a good grasp of the tenants lives and background just by looking around.

Despite the infamous history of the Ninth Ward, I personally know that there are more of ’just plain folks’ than the more disreputable citizens of neighborhood. This house is well kept and proudly at that. Clean, well maintained. An old ’shotgun’ style, named because it’s said that a person could shoot a shotgun from just outside the front door and it would go straight through the narrow house and out the back door. It’s an architecture perfectly suited for New Orleans summers with several rooms all in a row off of the long hallway. Each room has high ceilings and large windows, so the air flows better through the entire house. This particular home was once a double shotgun. By knocking down that shared wall, they’ve doubled the size of the smaller rooms and now have two hallways that run along the outer walls.

I always fancied Orleans architecture, and this is a very good example of the period it was built in.

You can see the well worn but cared for furniture, the personal objects lay around haphazardly, lots of framed pictures of family. A colorful afghan on the sofa, a well-loved black Barbie doll that hints to at least one child here. The room gives me a warm feeling despite the way the room has been tossed.

Someone, or several someones, had gone through every drawer, under every cushion, and through every possible place people might place a valuable object.

As I look around, I make sure to keep an ear on the conversation.

“Vics are in the bedrooms, two in the first door down the hall. Main bedroom, so they’re probably Ernest and Nina Dupont. Another in the second room,” Detective Bouvier has a slight hitch in his voice I note when he mentions the second room. It never bodes well when an experienced officer makes even a small emotional slip like that.I don’t think I’m going to like what I see in there.

“Who found them?” Nora asks.

“Daughter named Ellie Dupont,” he answers back sounding bored.

I look over to him and speak up, “She have a daughter?”

A small frown shows his displeased at being interrupted, “Yes. Lizzy Dupont.” He turns back to Nora and I resume looking around the room.

Nora however picks up my hint, “She here?”

“Mothers in the back yard with the first officers on scene,” he pauses. “The granddaughter is in the second bedroom.”

I nod to myself, not surprised. Not pleased, but not surprised.

I can hear Nora breathe deeply through her nose, steeling herself for what she’s going to see. I do the same myself, putting my mind completely in that mental state I have to get to in order not react to what could be a very bad scene.

“She see anything?” My partner prompts Bouvier. She’s obviously used to having to pry information out of the man, good for her.

“Nah. Charlie is here, says he’s not quoting time of death yet, but lividity puts it several hours ago. She got here 45 minutes ago, saw the front door unlocked, came in, no answer, saw things trashed and called 911. Then she found her parents, daughter,” he quotes, reading from his notepad.

“What’s she say on the 911?”

I was curious about that too, because if Robbery was called before us, it had to have been a short call.

“Short call. Just saying that they’d been robbed. Officers got here and…” he clears his throat and looks around making sure who is within earshot. “Patrol Officers Dillon and Harris. Harris is a fresh rookie. Dillon is just plain lazy. He hadn’t checked out the house well enough when he called in, so me and Gill were dispatched. The rookie however did check out the house, but his partner wouldn’t call that in. Haven’t asked him why yet.” He looks at Nora pointedly, telling her wordlessly that the chore was part of her job now.

“When Gill and I got here, the rookie pointed out that there were bodies in the house. We took a look and called it in. Haven’t touched anything, been waiting on you. Charlie is the only one that’s touched the body besides checking for pulses,” he finishes.

Gill is his partner, obviously, probably in the back with the daughter.

“Thanks Bouvier. Anything else I should know?” Nora asks politely, being thorough. She looks over to me, probably to see how I am reacting to a little girl being in the house.

I look her straight in the eyes and I’m proud I have my best cop face on, showing nothing but professionalism. Points for me, I hope.

She looks away, back towards Bouvier and slaps him good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Thanks for your help. We’ll take it from here and keep you apprised. You and Gill handle the neighbors?”

“Got uniforms there already, making sure they stay around ’till we get there,” he answers, putting his little notebook in a blazer pocket.

“Dan says you think it’s a home invasion gone bad, why?”

Good question, I thought. True it looks like someone has tossed just about everything that can be tossed, but it looks more staged to me, not really energetic enough, and definitely not destructive. Every scene I’ve been at where the place as been gone through and looted has demolished furniture, pictures. Here, it’s as as if they’re just making the place messy but not really searching.

“Well my detective skills aren’t as polished as you all in SCU, but seeing how this place looks like a tornado went through it, I would have thought that was obvious… Detective.”

Bouvier’s answer is so defensive and gruff, that my head snaps around to him so fast that I’m surprised I don’t have whiplash.

Nora’s eyes glance over to me for a split second, having seen it, but go back to the detective in front of her, her body language relaxed as if she didn’t hear the aggressiveness in his voice.

There’s nothing like inter-office relationships to drive up a persons blood pressure.

Part 5

I’ve seen worse murder scenes, but it’s never easy when an entire family is killed, especially children. Gun shot wounds, .35 caliber by the looks of it.

But the theory that it’s a robbery doesn’t sit well with me and I’m betting not with Nikki.

She’s coping well. Very well. At least on the outside, and that is what matters right now.

I find Charlie in the kitchen, waiting for the word to take the bodies to the morgue.

“Hey Charlie,” I greet him warmly. It’s always a smart thing to treat the technicians with respect, they’re the ones who provide you with the evidence to put the trash in jail after all. But with Charlie it’s beyond that. He’s a good man. His wife is a great lady too. I tease him about her often, ever since I met her. 5’9” and a classy lady. What she found so charming in Charlie’s rough Cajun self, I’ll never know.

“Nora. Nice to see y’all as usual,” he says as he’s filling out some paperwork on his clipboard.

“Charlie, this is Nikki Beaumont, my new partner.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” she says, stepping up next to me and looking him in the eye.

I’m immediately pleased by her reaction to Charlie, she’s obviously taking my cues. I like the man and she knows it and gives him a bright smile in greeting. She doesn’t shake his hand, but then we’re all gloved and still handling potential evidence. She’s smart, this one.

“Nora, you’re one lucky gal, you know that? Far prettier than Dan, that’s for sure,” he nods to Nikki in greeting. “Nice to meet you. You seen the bedrooms yet?”

Right to business. I love Charlie. I’d gladly trade a brother or two for him. I wonder if Mama would mind?

“Yes. Two gunshots per victim, except for the little girl. She was hiding but they knew she was here,” Nikki points out.

Charlie nods, “Yep. Can’t give you specifics yet, you know that, Nora, but I’ll have some more information for you by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, Charlie? Come on. It’s still morning,” I put a pleading tone in my voice.

“Sorry. I still have Mitchell’s case from last night,” he apologizes and shrugs.

“Mitchell?”

Nikki’s question doesn’t surprise me, she hasn’t met everyone in the 9th precinct yet.

“Detective Mitchell. You’ll probably meet him this afternoon, him and his partner, Georgia. They picked up the shooting from Algiers that happened earlier this morning.” I turn back to Charlie when Nikki nods, satisfied with the information.

“Thanks, Charlie. Feel free to call your goons in now and start tagging,” I smile at him in thanks. I give him a hard time a lot, but he likes me.

I head out the back door, pulling off my latex gloves and throwing them into the evidence can that’s always placed next to exits where there’s been a crime like this. I’m pleased to see Nikki following suit, pulling them off so they’re inside out, with potential evidence trapped inside the gloves.

I motion her off to the side, ignoring the uniforms in the back end of the backyard and the quietly sobbing woman seated near them, attended by a female officer.

She stands close to me to talk privately, knowing that this is the first “partner” moment we’re going to have.

“What do you think so far?” I ask her, getting right to the point. Of course, she’s new to being a Detective and probably thinks that this is a test. Of course it is, to a certain point, but I want to get to know how she thinks; and see if we’re on the same page or different views.

“Honestly?” she asks, looking me in the eye.

“Of course,” I reply. She’s got an open pose, both hands placed on her hips, not defensive, so that’s good. “Always honestly. Always. We’re partners not boxing opponents.”

A hint of that smile from earlier pops up and she says, “OK, but I warn you now. I do speak my mind and some partners have found it hard to… shut me up once I start.”

A short burst of laughter pops out before I can stop it. Thankfully, I’m pretty sure I kept that burst fairly quiet.

Nikki winks at me, then grows serious. Somehow that little moment between us has broken another layer of ice between us. We’re a good fit. I feel it.

“It doesn’t feel like a normal robbery. Too staged. And I think whomever did this knew the victims. There are signs of forced entry, but they got in quietly, used pillows to muffle the sound of the shots and knew that the granddaughter was staying over,” she rattles off her observations.

“They could have just looked in the room, noticed the bed was unmade and then searched the room, finding her in the closet,” I note, playing Devil’s Advocate.

She shrugs slightly and narrows her eyes. She doesn’t like the idea, but doesn’t gainsay it. “Too pat. I bet after we get the interviews from Detective Bouvier, all of the neighbors will say they didn’t hear a thing.”

I have to point out the obvious, “This is the 9th Ward. People don’t talk to police much here.”

Nikki shakes her head, “The Duponts took pride in their house and yard, so do the neighbors around them, from what little I saw coming in. Pride in their homes means they feel comfortable knowing each other. They won’t like what’s happened here, especially with the little girl involved. I think they’ll talk if they’ve actually heard or seen anything…if they get a different interviewer.”

I let a totally inappropriate smirk appear on my lips at that last comment. “You don’t approve of Detective Bouvier?”

“Well, my detective skills aren’t as polished as the gentlemen in Robbery, but seeing how this place doesn’t look like a real tornado went through it, I can’t help but imagine Detective Bouvier’s interviewing skills,” she replies, taking his earlier words and twisting them.

“Oh you’re going to be bad for me, I just know it,” I chuckle, and start around the house to cut off Bouvier before he starts his interviews.

“Only if you’re very lucky, Nora.”

Part 6

Nora decided that since it was my grand idea, that I should be the one to interview the neighbors surrounding the Dupont house while she interviews the uniformed officers that were first on the scene, and then we’ll interview the daughter together. I’m OK with the suggestion, delegating uniformed officers to take any statements from neighbors that aren’t immediately adjacent to the victim’s house.

Unfortunately, most of the men and women that live around the house are more interested in trying to get information from me, instead of actually being able to contribute to the investigation, so I came back empty handed but looking forward to the interview with the daughter. And hungry. I don’t understand how I can be hungry after seeing what I have this morning, but I am.

I step out of the way as a couple members of the Medical Examiners office make their way out of the house.

The first stretcher goes by and the noise level in the front yard has halved. It’s when the third stretcher goes by that the only sound that can be heard are the birds, the scuff of the technician’s shoes as they escort the small body to the waiting van and the numerous cleared throats of hardened policemen as they attempt to control their emotions.

I may have mastered not tearing up at a crime scene like this, but that doesn’t mean that another piece of my heart hasn’t flaked off and drifted away on the breeze.

Little girls shouldn’t die.

Little girls shouldn’t be shot in cold blood as they’re shivering in terror in a closet.

That cool exterior of mine is in danger of breaking at the sudden white hot rage that threatens to overwhelm me.

I’m pissed.

I turn away as they close the white van doors and I look towards the corner of the house across from me and see Nora. Her eyes are as hard as I imagine mine are right now. Her jaw is clenched and I can’t say as I’d ever want to see the outright fury that’s showing on her face to ever be pointed pointed at me.

Then she blinks a couple of times and it’s gone, replaced by one of the best blank cop faces I’ve ever seen in my life and I’ve seen a lot of cop faces, beyond just my five years on the force, and being as my father is who he is.

She takes a long slow breath through her nose then releases it before shifting her eyes to me, as if she knew I was here.

We share silently our anger in that instant and our absolute vow to get the bastard who did this.

Some days I wish that dropping off people naked into the middle of the swamp was legal.

She motions me with a nod to follow her and we head around the house to the back.

I guess we should be thankful that the officers hadn’t told Ellie Dupont that her mother, father and her little girl had just been wheeled out the front. I’m glad she’s spared that small pain of seeing it. It may seem insignificant compared to the pain of the whole that she’s experiencing, but even little kindnesses might help.

Nora takes an almost submissive stance with Ms. Dupont, crouching down in front of her, placing her hands on top of the shaking ones in her lap. I notice that the wad of tissues she has have been twisted, torn, and the pieces litter the ground at her feet.

It’s just another visible sign of the stress and grief this woman is going through. Instead of wailing and flinging her fists against the chest of the nearest burliest chest, she’s huddled there in here chair, seemingly so calm except for the tears and the trembling body.

The female officer that had kindly wrapped her in a blanket and then sat with her nodded at us and quietly left us with Ellie Dupont.

“Ms. Dupont?” Nora speaks softly, calmly, not wanting to startle the woman. I step forward slowly and take the seat next to Ellie, smiling at her gently when she looks at me. She turns back to Nora.

It can be a long painful process trying to talk to a witness who has lost loved ones. Tomorrow she may be bitter and angry, but it’s only been a couple of hours and we have to get a clear picture. The uniformed officers got an initial interview with her, which is always important, but experience has taught me that witnesses in shock can either remember details that you wouldn’t normally think they would, or they shut down completely. I was hoping Ms. Dupont would be the former.

It doesn’t take long before Nora and I realize that she’s not going to give anything more substantial than she’s already given.

As the female officer takes her away back to the station to identify the bodies, I find myself unsure of what to do from here. It’s a new feeling for me, this helplessness. I want to help that woman with every fiber of my body but I’m momentarily lost.

I look over to my partner and something of what I’m feeling must show in my eyes.

Nora’s firm lips break on one side into a small, sad smile. “I hope you’re not thinking of asking for a transfer already?”

Taking a deep breath, I settle myself to speak. I’m thankful that she either doesn’t hear or politely ignores the small catch in my voice as

I say, “Not today, Detective Delaney.”

The smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but I get the sense that she’s satisfied, for now, with my answer.

“It’s Nora. Please? If we’re going to work together, we’re just going to have to be friends,” she parrots my own words back at me and I smile back.

And if my own eyes don’t reach the small smile on my face her words give me, I think she’ll forgive me.

It’s turning out to be one helluva day.

It’s longer than we both wished before we finally escape from the house, leaving the Medical Examiner’s office, lab techs and uniformed officers to wrap up and secure the premises.

We’re quiet as we walk back to my car, the work chatter stopped for now. We’ve been going for hours and I’m just about on empty. We’ve gone through all of the procedures we both now, through ones I don’t and Nora shows me. She’s been very free with helping me on this first day, handing out little tidbits of information; when to skip doing this, double check that.

Practical experience is more helpful than books in the long run and she’s got tons of us and isn’t stingy with it. I had half feared, before I found out that she was my partner, that I’d get a Detective that would never talk and that I’d have to pull teeth to get him to teach me anything.

I slip into the seat and unlock the door for her but don’t start the car. For a moment I just sit there, my hands on the steering wheel and just stare at the parked marked car in front of mine.

A slim hand reaches out and touches my forearm. I can feel the heat through my thin blouse and shiver despite myself.

I turn to her, and see only compassion in her eyes. She’s not judging me, thank god.

“It’s hard, I know. But I know you can do this,” she tells me earnestly, squeezing my arm for a moment then releasing me.

The sudden wish for her hand to touch my arm again goes through my brain. What an odd time for such a thing to wish for.

“I was proud of you in there. My Rookie Detective, her gold badge so new it’s still dripping wet from the paint,” She gently teases me, trying to draw me out.

It works and I smile back. “Ha. Please. A Southern lady does not go out of the house with wet fingernail polish, let alone with a tacky wet badge.”

Her smile matches her eyes now, twinkling at the play between us, seeming more at ease that I’m okay. “Are you sure you don’t just run out with someone holding a hairdryer behind you drying as you run?”

“Only on date night, Nora.”

Suddenly another odd thought goes through my head as I hear her laugh. I really should air out the attic that is my brain if such thoughts just come and go willy-nilly.

I really enjoy making this woman laugh.

Part 7

Nikki is going to get me killed.

I hold onto the door handle like it’s a life jacket as she speeds past a slower driver, making me pop out a tiny squeak in alarm as she squeezes back into the right lane just before we can be crushed by the oncoming truck. I’m going to hurt her for making me squeak.

I hate squeaking. It’s not dignified.

I turn to glare at her as she pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant we both agreed upon and she turns off the car.

She fiddles with the catch a moment before finally getting the old-style seat belt buckle unlocked, then turns to me.

Damn it, she’s smiling like she’s won the lottery. She made me squeak and she knows it.

“Something wrong, Detective Delaney?” she purrs as she pulls the keys out of the ignition.

“How in the hell did you ever pass your driving exam?” I ask her bristling with indignity.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asks with what might pass as an innocent look to the half-baked fools at the yacht club, but doesn’t fly with this detective.

I narrow my eyes, “I can give out tickets you know.”

Nikki throws her head back and the sound of her laughter makes me realize that I definitely enjoy causing it. I suddenly wish to to hear all the different ways that she laughs.

“Why Detective, I do believe you’re threatening little ole me,” her southern accent thick in the car, reminding me of earlier in Dan’s office.

An accent I know she isn’t affecting. I find it oddly intriguing actually. Hmmm.

“If you don’t start driving sanely I’ll do more than just threaten… Don’t make me pull out the cuffs,” I quip back, the comment from earlier popping into my head.

Her eyes sparkle at my comeback. “Oh my. I do believe I shall need some iced tea with lunch to cool off.”

She opens the car door, grabbing her notebook full of this mornings work and gets out, but not before sticking her head back into the car with a parting shot. “Come along now, Detective. Do I need to call the Rescue Unit to pry your hands from the door handle? Or I could provide you with more personal assistance if needed?”

Only slightly indignant I let go of the handle and get out of the car, making sure to grab my own notes. Meeting her around the back, we make our way across the lot. I answer her, letting her hear my own natural accent. Not as thick and cultured as hers, but still appropriate to the giddy mood we’re suddenly in. “Why Miss Beaumont. I do believe you are flirting with me.”

It’s not surprising that she answers me with a laugh. If I stop to think about it, I think our highly inappropriate mood after having to deal with what we have this morning is a mix of a need for release from the tension and a bit of two new partners feeling out each other’s borders.

From what I’ve seen so far, this is the fastest and closest I’ve become with a partner. The barriers are low and easy between us. I like it.

It’s going to drive Dan nuts.

Yet another reason to like it.

As if she’s reading my mind she breaks off her laughter and gives me a thoughtful look while opening the door to the restaurant for me.

Shop talk isn’t something I want other customers to hear, so I take us to a far table with no other customers close by.

“Yes?” I ask expectantly. She looks like she’s very curious about something.

“You and the lieutenant?”

“You’re talking about his little ’marking of the territory’ speech in the office?” I ask, smirking. It’s not like Dan is subtle. He’s a big man with a big ego.

“Yes. I caught the ’my Nora’ bit,” Nikki comments as she casually waves at a waitress to get her attention. She does that very elegantly. I always think I look like a flagger at an intersection when I try to get someones attention in a restaurant.

“Dan was my partner for two years. We got close, but not that close,” I qualify quickly. “He’s a terrible flirt and I know he wanted to be more than just my partner.”

“And you never considered? Honestly, he is quite good looking,” Nikki replies nonchalantly while looking over the menu. Too nonchalantly in my opinion.

“If you think so you should consider asking him out,” I drop the bait, wondering if she’ll take it.

She barks out a laugh of disbelief. “Oh no. Thank you, no. He’s not my type anymore. I outgrew my taste in tall, dark and handsome men. Of course, the fact he’s my boss now would be a deciding factor even if he did push all the right buttons.”

I glance down the menu, spotting what I want almost instantly. This restaurant has a dish that I absolutely love and I’m thrilled to be able to get it. Dan never liked coming here. He always said he didn’t want seafood, but he has roots in the 9th Ward and disliked it when we caught cases out here. He needs to get over his apprehension about his roots.

I put down the menu as I answer her. Not that I expected her to want to flaunt the ’no flirty with the boss’ regulation, but you never know. Civilians would be surprised at what goes on behind closed doors at the precinct. Or maybe they wouldn’t. It’s not too much different than the corporate world, according to my oldest brother.

“It’s funny, Dan comes to dinner at Mom and Dad’s every few Sundays. They always ask him to come. I think they have high hopes for us and envision little baby Noras and Dans around.” I shake my head in annoyance. My parents are wonderful people, but they don’t drive my brothers to distraction like they do me in regards to my relationships. It probably has to do with me being the only girl in the family, but still.

“So, they wouldn’t have minded you dating Dan while he was your partner,” Nikki asks. There’s an odd note in her voice, one that I can’t quite put my finger on. I shrug and answer.

“No. In fact, they would have been ecstatic about the idea. They really do like him. To bad for them, I never really felt about him the way they want me to, let alone flirt with him like he does me,” I answer, telling the truth. “I’ve gotten really good at deflecting all his little comments.”

“I noticed,” she chuckles, then turns to the waitress who came up to our table.

Nikki orders a small salad with some oysters on the shell on the side, and an iced tea, not unusual for this time of day. A light lunch really.

“Some of your crawfish bisque, please.”

I can’t miss Nikki’s look of horror as I order.

“And an iced tea for me too, please,” I give her our menus and grin at my partner. “I take it you disapprove of crawfish? You do know they’re just miniature lobster’s right?”

Nikki visibly shudders and makes a face, making me laugh.

“You do know that crawfish and lobsters are in the same family as spiders, don’t you?” she queries.

“Nope, but damn them spiders are tasty,” I drawl.

By mutual consent we don’t talk about the case yet, taking a much needed mental break.

After the waitress comes back by with our drinks, we continue our light conversation. It’s nice getting to know her. The little things she does makes me chuckle, like using 3 raw sugars, not the processed stuff or the fake sweeteners. Stirring the sweetened tea with her straw before licking, then sucking at the end before putting it back into the glass. Not something that I would have expected a person of her background to do.

“So, if you’re not dating Dan the man, who are you dating?” Nikki asks.

“No one presently. You? I can’t imagine that you’d be single.”

She looks at me intently for a moment, and the thought that I’ve asked a question I shouldn’t have goes through my mind, but then I only asked what she asked me. Nothing unusual about it.

She takes a dainty sip through her straw before speaking.

“8 months, 2 weeks, and 2 days single,” she answers precisely. “Although, I do have a prospect in my sights.” She takes another sip.

“Really? Are you sure about the timeline? It seems a bit vague there, Detective,” I chuckle. I could give a general ’5 months’ answer if asked, but nothing so precise.

Nikki begins to nervously drum a tattoo with the edges of her short fingernails against the glass.

“Definitely, that’s when my partner at the time decided she wasn’t gay and went off and married her boss,” she answers primly.

Well, damn. I didn’t see that one coming.

Part 8

Well she didn’t go running away in terror, although I almost did when she started sucking out the stuffing from those nasty mudbugs she’s eating.

Nora did seem surprised but not discomforted. I’m actually surprised I said anything, especially so soon in our partnership. I’ve never hidden who I was, but I’ve never had a megaphone and shouted it out in the squad room either. My prior partners hinted atoms or two that they suspected, and while I never denied it, I never confirmed it either.. Well, except for Tonya. She made it clear from the beginning that she was so prejudiced that I just kept my personal life personal. Of course, I never had a problem tweaking her for her prejudices. In fact, I gave Darius a very thorough kiss right in front of her that first Christmas as her partner. Seeing a “refined” white woman of my background kiss a black man was a not much for her white power sensibilities.

Of course, she asked for a new partner soon after that. A bonus for me.

Ah, Darius. Speaking of which…

“Nora, I know we’re trying not to think about work right now… oh my god, must you do that? It’s almost… it’s wrong,” I whimper as I watch her take her tongue and scoop out more “juice” from inside a crawfish head.

She’s looking straight into my eyes as she’s doing it too, and chuckling evilly. “OK, you’re just being mean now. This is for scaring you in the car, isn’t it?” I demand to know.

Nora puts down the now thoroughly empty spider head and laughs softly, “Well, you do have a habit of getting me off my game, Detective…”

“Nikki,” I correct her with a smile and decide to get a little even. Catching her eye I deftly pick up an oyster on the half-shell and tap a bit of Tabasco on it. Bringing it to my lips, I smile, then let the seafood delight slide past my lips and down my throat. And then just for spite, I make sure to tip the oyster again, to sip the remaining oyster juice and Tabasco mix.

“Mmmm…” I purr nice and low.

Her green eyes glaze a moment then narrow, “Now who’s evil?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I answer, putting the empty shell back on the plate and take a sip of my iced tea.

She rolls her eyes and concedes the battle, if not the war. “Anyway, you were saying before my eating habits distracted you?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. I have this contact that might be helpful to us. Knows the neighborhood, hell the boy knows just about all of New Orleans and what goes on in it,” I shake my head at the thought. Darius is a wonder. “He’s an old family friend if truth be known, but I’ve used him for information since I entered the Academy… actually, scratch that. I was using him for information back in High School. He gave me more good dirt on the girls at school than what I could get at the Junior League. He even managed to warn me about Malcolm Roberts before I let him take me to the Freshman ball. He had the audacity to have his daddy rent the penthouse suite at the Intercontinental Hotel for that evening.”

I’m pleased Nora finds it funny as well. I had to sic Daddy on him that night. He’s very lucky, however, nothing scares a man worse than a Southern debutantes father, other than her mother.

“Anyway, Darius has a lot of contacts in the 9th Ward, a lot of family even,” I get myself back onto the subject at hand. “I’d like to see what information he can come up with.”

Nora’s been listening to me intently, which is a good sign. Doesn’t seem closed up, another good sign. For a couple of reasons actually.

She spends a few minutes quietly eating more of that disgusting choice she calls a meal, obviously seriously considering my request. Finally, she nods and speaks.

“Do I get to meet him first?” she asks, a note of curiosity in her voice.

“Of course. If you’re really sure? He’s quite the character. I’ve known him my whole life though, he’s a true friend,” I supply his characteristics with surety. Darius is indeed a loyal friend and good at what he does. Jack-of-all-trades that he is.

“Give him a call. If it works out, I’m sure I can get Dan to allot some expense money his way. Anonymously of course. I know we do have a budget for it, although I have few informants that I’d want to give money to.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let his deeds speak for themselves. I think he’s got some voodoo tricks up his sleeve for some of the things he comes up with,” I say half-seriously.

Nora looks at me with disbelief. “Voodoo? Really? Umm…”

I laugh softly at the look of horror on her face, “Don’t worry, his family is harmless. Mostly.”

“Great. Just great.”

I decide to wait until after we eat before calling Darius. No need to be rude at the table.

However, I do feel the need to address the big pink elephant in the room before it gets in the way.

“About that comment I dropped on you a few minutes ago,” I say casually between an especially nice tasting oyster and another sip of my sweet tea.

Nora’s right eyebrow peeks up through her bangs. Rather adorable look actually, but that’s neither here nor there. Keep to the topic at hand, Beaumont.

“I hope I didn’t freak you out?” I ask hopefully, keeping my eyes glued to her face, searching for those subtle clues I know to look for when it comes to this subject. You’d be surprise at how people try to lie or deny the subject.

She takes a moment and wipes her lips with her napkin, then answers.

“Well, I can’t say that you didn’t surprise me,” she says with a smile. “Considering how you flirt, I’m not shocked.”

There’s absolutely no sign of discomfort in her face and I breathe an internal sign of relief. Thank god. I feel like I almost blew it with my rather sudden inability earlier to keep my mouth shut.

“Really? Me flirt? I’m horrified at your low opinion of me, Detective,” I say playfully.

She doesn’t take the bait though and replies back in a serious tone. “I had an Uncle, on my Mother’s side, who was, as my uncle used to describe himself, ’Light in the loafers’. I loved him dearly. My father and brothers however always seemed weirded out when he came by for Holidays, so it made things a bit tense when he was around. My mother loved her brother however, and I ignored how my brothers treated him. He was the gentlest soul I knew.”

Nora smiles softly in memory and I smile back, happy for her and a little sad.

“How’d he pass?” I ask softly.

“AIDS. Eight years back while I was in California. I was taking my college finals during my third year at the time. I almost didn’t make it back for the funeral, but I talked a couple of my professors into letting me take them all in one day,” she answers easily enough.

“My mother and I were heartbroken, but I remember his lover that day and…” she stops and shakes her head, then takes a deep breath and lets out a wry chuckle. “I have to say that I’ve never had such a deep conversation before on the first day with a new partner.”

I recognize her attempt to distance herself from the moment for what it is and let it be. There will be more than enough time to get to know this woman who has more depths than I realized. She’s definitely surprising me and intriguing me to no end.

We’re both done with our meal only a few moments later. She settles up the bill as I call Darius. I make the call short, just saying that I’d like to meet him down at the little coffee shop across from the district house in the French Quarter. I know he’s curious, but he doesn’t bug me for information. He probably already knows anyway.

As we make ourselves comfortable in the car, Nora breaks the silence that brewed up since our talk at the table.

“Nikki?”

I turn my head and look at her , the question obvious in my eyes. “Hmmm?”

“To answer your question more directly. No, I don’t have a problem with your sexuality. Just as I’d hope you wouldn’t have a problem with mine,” she says earnestly. “My being straight is no bigger deal to me than your resume with the Junior League. From what I’ve seen, you’re a good cop and a good person. Good head on your shoulders. You’re willing to learn. You’re compassionate with the grieving. You stood tall in the face of all those new faces in the squad room and at the scene.”

She’s going to make me cry. I hate crying. My mascara will run if I cry too much.

So I let a smile grace my lips. A true one because her words do that to me. And then I let a little gleam of my mischievousness into it.

“You’re just saying that, Detective Delaney, so I’ll quit flirting with you.”

I’m pleased with my shot at changing the subject. She’s not the only one with that particular skill.

But I almost hit a parked car when she waits until I’m on the road again to say, “Who says I want you to quit flirting with me?”

Damn she’s good.

Part 9

It’s mid-afternoon by the time Nikki and I get back to the precinct. Darius hasn’t called her back yet, so we spend a bit of time getting supplies for Nikki’s desk and gathering together reports. Evidence comes trickling in slowly; color photos, interviews with neighbors, and reports from everyone on the scene. We spend a couple of minutes going over the reports to see if anything pops out to us, but it’s too early in the investigation yet.

It’s when we’re talking to Ellie Dupont again in one of the interview rooms that Nikki’s phone rings. She steps out for a moment while I continue asking Ms. Dupont more questions. She seems lucid and calm, but now that we’re away from the scene, there’s something off about her. She’s too calm.

She answers all my questions, but her her eyes are red and glassy. I can’t be sure without a drug test, but it seems to be more than just from crying all day.

Boyfriend? Yes. He’s in Mississippi visiting family for a few weeks.

Do you know of anyone angry at your parents? No.

Any problems with the neighbors? No.

Do you know of anyone angry at you? No.

Who knew Lizzy was staying at your parents? No one else.

Where is Lizzy’s father? Haven’t seen him since before she was born.

What’s his name? She gives it.

What was his last known address? She gives it.

Do you parents keep anything valuable in the house? Anything worth stealing? No. Just a television and DVD player and a small stereo.

Nikki’s right. I’d noticed it while walking through the house that the obvious things that should have been taken, like jewelry and electronics, were all there.

So either they never found what they were searching for, or it was meant to look like they were searching for something and didn’t find it.

Why kill the parents and the kid though? They could have just as easily gone through the house when everyone was gone.

Something wasn’t right, and looking at Ellie Dupont I get that sense again.

I sense trouble, and not the same as when Nikki walked into the squad room this morning. I can’t say why it didn’t hit me earlier at the house. Perhaps it was because everything about that house was wrong, starting with the fact that people had died there. Maybe it’s because I’ve been feeling a bit off my game today, what with a new partner to break in and be broken in by. Or maybe I shrugged off her reactions to grief. Perhaps I’m imagining things and this is just how she deals with pain.

I finish up my little chat with Ms. Dupont and let her go home, making sure we have all her contact information in case we need to speak with her again. Which we will, I’m sure of it.

Nikki’s waiting for me outside in the observation room looking over the monitors as a technician rewinds the interview.

Silently, we go over the last bit again, where Nikki went out for her call.

“Something just isn’t right with that girl,” Nikki notes and I smile.

“You noticed it too?” I reply, glad that I wasn’t the only one.

She gives a little nod, her dark bangs falling in front of her face for a moment before she reaches up and sweeps them away.

Nikki thanks the tech and we walk back to our desks, both of us taking a moment to see if Dan is in his office. Thankfully he’s not. We don’t have any answers for him yet and I hate being pressured for them.

Leaning against the side of her desk while I take a seat at mine, Nikki taps a short fingernail against the small stack of folders that make up the case so far.

“Ideas?”

I shake my head minutely, “Not a thing, but we need to take a closer look at the daughter.”

“Darius can help with that,” she offers with a smile.

“Was that him,” I ask, referring to the phone call.

“Yes, Ma’am. He’s waiting for us at the café. My treat apparently.”

She waits for me to lever myself back up and smiles at my audible sigh. I was just getting comfortable, too. I stick the reports in a drawer and lock it before following her out of the building.

We walk together, in sync I notice. Huh. The Velvet Moon is a little coffee shop that is frequented by cops and locals alike. Being in the French Quarter as it is, it’s surprising that it’s not overrun by tourists and day trippers except that when you think about it, the café locale across the street from a police station probably has something to do with that.

I follow Nikki inside, impressed how she can maneuver rather gracefully around chairs and people so easily. By the time we get to the back table she’s aiming for, I’ve had to apologize at least 4 times.

So this is Darius.

Looks young, maybe twenty-one to twenty-four. Nikki’s right, he’s definitely a character, I can tell. Bright silver nose ring. Pencil thin mustache and a petite goatee. His hair is all natural, not extensions. Braided but gathered up into a ponytail. He’s smiling and you can’t help but smile back. His big grin takes up about half of his face, I swear, with teeth so white it’s almost blinding against his black skin. He looks comfortable, sitting here surrounded by policemen, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Nikki! Where’ve you been, girl?” He says, standing up and giving her a quick hug before sitting back down. “And this must be your lovely new partner, Detective Delaney.”

I look at Nikki, “You told him about me already?”

“No,” she laughs and takes a seat.

I take the one next to her, placing myself directly across from Darius.

“I am a font of information, Ladies,” Darius leaned forward, whispering. “I can tell you, or find out, just about anything you need to know. I can even tell you what kind of underwear Nikki here wears.”

He sits back just smiling as Nikki reaches out and smacks him hard on the shoulder. I laugh at the two of them. It reminds me of me and my brothers, especially of me and Bobby.

“Darius, don’t you dare! Behave!” Nikki demands, doing a poor job of faking her annoyance. It’s hard to be upset when you’re laughing at the same time.

I lean forward towards him, catching his eye. He leans back over the table and I ask, “Well, what kind?”

He laughs so loud that the nearby tables are all looking, but I don’t care. The look on Nikki’s face is priceless.

I ignore the sputtering coming from her and sit back in my seat, sprawling out, making myself comfortable. Yes, I am pleased with myself, and the looks I’m getting from Nikki just make me smile even brighter.

I think I like this Darius guy already if he can shoot Nikki down a peg or two. I’m sure he has lots of secrets I can extort, or bribe, out of him.

After ordering café au laits all around and letting Darius have a couple minutes to wipe his eyes and gather himself, we get to business.

“So, Ladies,” he clears his throat one final time and gets to the reason why we’re all here together, “Not that I am not pleased to meet you Detective, but I’m sure you brought me down here for more professional reasons?”

Nikki turns to me and I return the look and nod to her, letting her take the lead here. He’s her friend and I can learn more about Darius by watching him at this point.

“We caught a case,” she starts, keeping her voice down, but loud enough that we don’t have to huddle.

“The one in Algiers or the 9th?” Darius asks. His face is intent now, which shows me he’s serious. The fact that he knows about both murders, the only ones SCU has been assigned since yesterday, means he does keep an ear out.

“You have a habit of knowing which crimes are going on, Darius?” I ask him point blank, not accusing, just curious.

He doesn’t seem offended when he looks me straight in the eye and answers, “Yeah Detective. For the last five years especially, I keep my ear down to the ground wherever Nikki is around. She’s family.”

I see Nikki’s gentle smile out of the corner of my eye and nod, “And now that she’s been assigned to SCU?”

“I still keep my ear out at certain places and talk to certain faces, but I do listen if your unit is involved.” He pauses a moment then looks at me seriously, trying to get his point across. “She’s family. I just happen to have access to bits of information here or there. She knows I’m clean. I just happen to have… sources. I can’t let someone else…”

He stops right there, but he doesn’t have to finish. I felt sorry for pushing him now.

“Hey,” I make sure he’s looking at me, not through me. “It’s okay.”

A moment of awkward silence descends on the table before Nikki speaks up. “So, Darius… Hon. Sweetie.”

He chuckles and looks at her, and the veil that had dropped over him at whatever memory he had been trudging through, is gone. He’s smiling again.

And she did it. They really must be family. I think I’m once again shocked at this woman. She’s blown up more preconceptions I had about her than I realized I even had.

I think I’m feeling a twinge of jealousy and I can’t fathom why.

“Yes, Detective Beaumont? What can this humble servant of the public trust do for you today?”

She blushes at him calling her Detective Beaumont, I see. It’s still new to her, her accomplishment. I smile softly and let her answer.

“We need information about the Duponts. I’m sure you know the address,” she says notes wryly before continuing. “And their daughter, Ellie Dupont. We want as much information about her as you can find out. Boyfriends too. Find out who that little girl’s father is. You know what to look for.”

He looks over to me with a questioning look and I smile and nod. “Show me what you got, Tiger,” I challenge.

That huge smile is back but with a little something I don’t quite recognize, “Oh, I’d be happy to show you what I got, Detective. But I think Ms. Nikki over here would be jealous.”

Nikki laughs and shakes her brunette locks dramatically, “I don’t share, Darius. You know that. Now hush and go get to work.”

“It was a pleasure, Detective,” he says to me as he gets up. He gives Nikki a quick buss on the cheek just before she shoos his off with a long, elegant hand…

He leaves the café, not even waiting for his café au lait, smiling and shaking his head in laughter.

Nikki watches after him, turned so I can’t see her face. When she turns back to me she has the saddest look that I’ve seen. Those big, dark eyes of hers don’t hide sadness well.

“Who did he lose?” I ask, feeling like a fool for bringing up such a hurtful memory for him.

“His mother,” she answers back with a bittersweet smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Nikki brings her hands up to rest on the table in front of her and just stares at them for a moment.

“She died, killed in a car accident. The driver was drunk and didn’t have a scratch on him. He was in the backseat sleeping and woke up just before it happened,” she pauses holding her breath for a moment. “My mama and I were in the car with them. Darius and I were the only ones to survive.”

A tear pools up in her eye and I don’t know what to say or do.

“I’m sorry…” It’s all I can say and it’s not enough.

She reaches over and places a hand over mine and squeezes once before letting go. “It’s OK. It was a long, long time ago. Darius’ Grandmother was our housekeeper at the time and took him and moved into my daddy’s home so that she could look after him during the day. I was around 10, he was 5, but after they moved in our house, it was like Darius and I were brother and sister, right from that point.

“I think Daddy was glad there was someone to take care of me there for a little while. His heart broke that day,” Nikki reflected.

I’m silent, just sitting here, not knowing what to do or say. Oddly, I’m not uncomfortable, but what can I say?

We sit for a good ten minutes, drinking the coffee that the server finally brings to us. We’re both quiet, each to our own thoughts. I think of my Uncle and the lover he left behind. I wonder if she’s thinking about her Mama.

When we are finally done and the bill is paid, we make our way out of the café, me grumbling and apologizing to everyone I keep running into on the way out.

My mind turns to business and I hope that Darius gets us a good lead or two. He seems willing enough, I note.

It’s when we’re about to cross the street that she leans over and whispers close to my ear. “So, Detective… You still want to know what kind of underwear I wear?”

Damn, that woman is just plain trouble.

Part 10

It takes me about 10 minutes to find a spot this morning. Obviously my good looks and charm aren’t going to win me a decent spot today. However I did still manage to wrangle a government”-only spot just before that blonde in the blonde in the Mercedes could cut me off.

I had spent the entire ride here thinking about Nora Delaney. And the case. Mental note. Keep your mind on business today. What must that woman think of me after yesterday? That I’m a flake? A freak? There I was, crying over my coffee… not even beer! Coffee! I can’t even get a stereotype right. Good Lord.

Nora Delaney. I made a right fool of myself yesterday and I would not be at all surprised to find she has asked Dan to switch me with someone else.

I just do not know what is with me. Ever since I walked into the squad room yesterday, I’ve been a freak. Flirting. Being serious at the scene was appropriate at least. More flirting. Coming out. Flirting. Hello? More flirting. Although, she did almost make me wreck my baby. That was quite funny though. More flirting. Introducing her to Darius was certainly entertaining. Except for the not so fun part. But there was a flirting moment after that. I do believe that made up for it. Except for the look she gave me when she almost got hit by that car because she wasn’t paying attention. Good thing I have fast reflexes.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening was paperwork. Very appropriate and professional. Not much chance to flirt when you’re going over crime scene photos. But getting to sit at my new desk, front to front with hers, is a definite plus. I may not have flirted after the café, but I did look.

And I know I caught that girl looking at me a time or two.

But still. I don’t want to mess up this partnership over some stupidity of mine. I like her. She’s a very good cop. She knows her stuff. She gave Darius a chance to prove himself just on my word. On her partner-of-one-day’s word.

I sigh to myself as I rifle through the glove box…now where did I put that damn sticker. I swear to God if I have to change spots because I lost…

I’m startled by a tapping at my driver’s side window. I look up and see blue. Blue I’m very familiar with after five years.

I sit up and look out, rolling down the window.

“Officer?”

“Ma’am?” the man taking up my entire window space with his head and big shoulders is a member of the Mounted Patrol.

I am a detective after all. I can see the horse. OK, two horses. His partner is in back, his horse sniffing my baby.

I swear if that nag gets even a fleck of horse snot on it…

Glue.

“What can I do for New Orleans’ finest this morn’in?” I drawl just so I can see the gleam in this pretty blond boy’s eyes. He really is quite cute.

He straightens up a moment and makes a show of looking my car up and down.

Yes, Pretty Boy. The car, she is mine. You may look, you may not touch.

He looks back at me and pushes his cap off his head and holds it in his hands. “Ma’am. Do you realize you are parking in a government-only space? You have to have a special…”

“Sticker. Yes, I know,” I look over to my glove compartment and spot the tip of it stuck out between between some old papers. “I just got this yesterday and didn’t have a chance to put it on.”

I wave the blue parking sticker with the upside down crescent for him. The number 9 clearly seen under the emblem. “I hadn’t scraped off my old precinct one before last night. I just started here yesterday?”

He seems pleased and more than friendly now that he knows why I’m here.

“What do you do, Miss…?” he asks for my name, and not very subtly.

“Detective Beaumont, Special Crimes.” I supply matter-of-factly. I’m hoping he moves soon or I’m going to have to open this car door into him. I do not want to keep the good Miss Nora waiting. I have to make a better impression this morning.

“Beaumont? Nora’s Beaumont?” Pretty Boy asks with a startled look on his face.

Nora’s Beaumont?

I blink several times at him, then finally get a clue and look at the name on his jacket.

“Delaney. Any relation to Detective Nora Delaney?”

The Pretty Boy smiles so wide and proud you’d think he was her daddy.

“My sis. Well damn. Detective, well how about this for a coincidence,” he says as he places his hands on his hips and continues to smile broadly. He turns for a moment and speaks to his partner.

Or maybe he’s about to speak to the horse, I don’t know. I open the door, making him take a step back as he says, “Hey Jim. This is Nora’s new partner. How about that.”

“Ma’am,” the other officer tips his hat. Not “Detective” but “Ma’am”. Well, it could be worse.

I make sure there’s no horse drool on my car first before turning back to him and smile sweetly. “Nora mentioned she had brothers.”

“I’m the baby of the family. Bobby,” he offers his name, holding out his hand.

I shake it, pleased to see he has a nice handshake for a cop. I never complain, but there have been days when I’ve come home with my hand just aching from the crushing grips some of these men give out.

He seems nice enough and I guess I can’t call him Pretty Boy now that I know his name. Nora might shoot me.

I make a pointed effort to put the sticker on the inside of my windshield before locking the car up.

He gets the hint. I’m on the job. So is he.

Bobby Delaney puts his hat back on, still smiling all the while. Still pleased as punch with himself about something. I don’t think I want to ask. But he’s Nora’s brother, which makes him family of a sort.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Officer,” I tell him, giving him a bright smile to take away with him. He really does seem like a nice guy.

“Detective,” he nods. “Maybe we can get together for lunch today?”

I don’t sigh. That would be rude.

“Perhaps. Give Nora a call later to see if we can manage it,” I say, turning and waving at Jim, then escaping. I thought I was subtle. I want to make sure he doesn’t think this will be a lunch for two.

At least I don’t have to worry about her trying to fix me up with her brother.

He’s cute. But his sister is more my type.

I did NOT just think that.

Part 11

Last night was dinner at my parent’s house and I don’t think I’ve ever had such a long, never-ending, torturous dinner. Normally, I try to get out of even the family Sunday dinners, but we were all asked to come celebrate Daddy’s birthday.

All my brothers were there; Clarence, Donald, and Harold, my older brothers. Their wives were present as well… unfortunately. I have never heard so much girl talk in that house. Ever.

Football. Basketball. Tulane. Tulane. Tulane. The Saints. Tulane.

That’s what I’m used to hearing in my Mama’s house. But now that all my brothers, except Bobby, are married, it’s all about the babies. And the burping. And who got what jewelry. OK, I don’t mind that last bit, really. But the shoe talk?

By the dessert time and Daddy’s favorite, blackberry pie, rolled around I had been about to stick that fancy silver pie knife of Mama’s through my right eye just to relieve the pain that was shooting through it.

Of course, just as I was contemplating how to wrestle it away from Bobby without having to use lethal force, my Daddy asked THE question.

“So how is Dan?”

You know, at that moment I wanted to stab both eyes out, just so I wouldn’t have to see the smug looks on my sister-in-laws faces. And the drool. I let the silence go on as long as I could before it was so overwhelming that I knew had to say something or they’d think that I was trying to keep something like Dan and I eloping a secret.

“He’s fine. Says hi,” I replied.

And that had been the end of that, as far as I was concerned. But Mama couldn’t leave it alone.

“You should invite him for Sunday dinner again. He’s such a nice boy,” she beamed at me. BEAMED at me. Like she was envisioning little beautiful mocha colored children running all over the place.

“Mama, he’s my boss now. Even if there was some interest there…” and I stopped and glared at all the wives before they could even draw in breath, “which there ISN’T and WON’T be. He is my boss now.”

It was damn good blackberry pie. Mama makes great pie.

Of course, I wasn’t going to get to enjoy it in peace.

“Oh that’s such a shame. He’s such a nice boy,” Mama said sadly.

I sighed and put down my fork and silently mourned my forlorn piece of pie as I looked over at Mama.

“Mama, I’ve told you. I’m not interested in him. He was a great partner and a good friend. He STILL is a good friend. But he’s my Boss now,” I pleaded with her, hoping she’d drop it until the next dinner.

Daddy rescued me. I love my daddy.

“So, Nora? I hear you’ve gotten yourself a new partner?” he asked, looking interested.

Thank you God for Daddy.

“Yes, Nikki Beaumont. I like her already,” I smiled as I said her name. I realized that I really do like her. We’re already partners and the warming up period was next to nothing. I’m still surprised by it.

“Beaumont? Any relation to the Beaumonts in the Garden District?” Mama asked and everyone paused and looked at me with keen interest.

“Hmm? Garden District Beaumonts? Let me think,” I said carefully before I took another bite of pie. “Yes, I think she may be. Why?”

“She Arthur Beaumont’s daughter? I heard she was on the force.” Daddy still had his ear to the police line of gossip, even after being retired for 5 years.

I nodded, affirming his suspicions.

“You like her you say? Good. He’s a good man,” he proclaimed, “for a politician.”

I choked on my pie. Thankfully dinner had ended soon after that and I escaped with a parting, loving word to my Mama for the wonderful dinner. I swear I ate more rich food that day than I had in weeks. I was going to have to do an extra 5 miles the next morning.

Which I did had done very early this morning. It was wonderful, until the rain started pouring down. By the time I got home I was drenched and exceedingly cranky.

And now I was back here in the French Quarter, making my way to work and all I could think about was wondering how Nikki’s night went. And the job. Right. The case.

Is that Bobby?

I pull up beside the two mounted police officers making their way down the avenue. Rolling down my window I lean over and yell.

“Bobby!”

He leans down so he can better see me, smiling like he always does. I swear nothing can make that boy mad. Mama always said that Bobby came out smiling as a baby because he knew he was the last of the Delaney clan. Of course, that always made Mama smile too, but for an entirely different reason.

“Hey sis. You’re a bit late this morning aren’t you?”

“I had a run this morning,” I explain.

“Hey, I met your new partner. She’s hot, Nora! How’d you get so lucky?” Bobby asks.

Oh my god. If he flirted with Nikki, I am just going to have to commit fratricide.

“You be nice to her you hear? Or you’ll answer to me,” my baby brother threatens.

I grin at him. “She’s out of your league, Bobby. Garden District, remember?” I remind him, not really thinking Nikki was that type to let that stand between her and someone she wanted. But the fact was that Bobby wasn’t her type.

“I asked her out to lunch today,” Bobby proclaims, very pleased with himself.

I nearly run over Jim’s horse.

Part 12

Nora is late. Which means I’m not. Which also means I look good to the new partner.

Unfortunately, it also means Dan keeps looking this way through the window of his office. So, I do my best to look busy, going over new reports that have landed on our desks. One in particular catches my eye.

Well damn.

It’s bad news on top of bad news, with just a smattering of good news to keep it company. If you can really consider it good news. I am rather ambivalent about that.

“Good Morning,” comes the not-so-cheery-sounding voice of my partner.

I look up from my desk and smile a greeting. Hmmm… Nice choice in outfits. Chocolate baby doll v-neck t-shirt with very nice, low-riding jeans. Nice… belt buckle. Is that her belly button peeking out from under the t-shirt?

“Nice boots,” I comment. And they are. Semi-dress boots in a light mocha color. Nice.

Why in the world is she glaring at me? I blink in confusion, and then point to the stack of files on my desk. “I started without you. That OK?”

A wry smirk graces her lips. She’s annoyed with something but I’m not sure with what.

“So…how was your morning?” Nora asks, taking a handful of the new reports to her side of the desk and having a seat.

OK. Something is odd here.

“Fine. Wet. Rainy. Horse slobber. The usual.” I think the horse bit is funny but she’s not laughing. But then again, she wasn’t there.

She looks over at me with confusion. “Horse slobber?”

“Mmmm. Yes.” I roll my eyes dramatically. “Imagine my surprise when I almost got a ticket by your brother. Who just happened by. And who called me ’Nora’s Beaumont’ when he heard my name. And asked me out to lunch.”

There, I said it. I’m wondering if I should have worn my vest. I also wonder what her score is on the shooting range.

“Lunch hmm? Imagine my surprise when I saw him this morning and he mentioned he asked you out to lunch,” my partner shoots back. Score.

“Well, did he tell you that I suggested he call you to see if we were even available for lunch?” I answer back, emphasizing the ’we’ and wondering where all this is going. It’s rather odd.

I watch as Nora reaches up and rubs the tip of her nose, looking sheepish. Damn. That has got to be the most adorable thing ever. No wait. I forgot. I am to be professional today. Toe the line, Beaumont.

“He didn’t mention that,” she admits. There’s also a cute little blush on her cheeks now. No. NO! It is not cute. Knock it off.

I clear my throat. “So are we going to be available for lunch? Or do you mind if I keep you all to myself?” Now see. That was subtle right there, Nikki m’dear. Show her that you are not interested in having lunch with her brother. No other meaning to what I just said. None. I will deny it if asked.

Nora looks at the stack of files on her desk and mine. “To be honest, I doubt it. First thing we have to do today is go down to the Medical Examiner’s building and see Charlie.”

I get serious. “Speaking of the case, the department CSIs dropped off a preliminary report that I think you really should have a look at, before we do anything else.”

Getting up and walking over to her side of the desk, I show her the file I was looking at when she came in, leaning over her shoulder to point out the piece of information I was looking at.

“Accident,” Nora exclaims. “How…”

“Here,” I point out another sheet, complete with diagrams of the two bedrooms.

“Damn. It went through the dresser, the wall, luggage, and then hit her?”

“Looks like. According to the sticky note here, they’re going to set up lasers in the room today to track trajectories just to make sure. However, considering that the spatter pattern is away from the wall and towards the closet door, I see it as Lizzy being an accidental death,” I explain.

Nora looks up at me. “Still doesn’t make it right.”

I agree. “But it does make it easier to swallow. I’ll admit that I had a hard time yesterday thinking that someone purposefully put a bullet into that child.”

She sighs, her eyes suddenly heavy with the memory. It’s one that will stick with me for a long, long time as well.

“There’s more,” I proclaim, pointing out another hastily scrawled note on the page. I can’t wait until Charlie’s crew finishes up typing their reports, I can’t read some of this handwriting at all.

Nora’s reaction is more vocal this time, and more profane. I don’t blame her. It’s shocking to me as well to read that the spatter pattern in the closet indicates that there was someone there, hiding with Lizzy, when she was shot.

But it’s the last bit of information that makes Nora stand up and charge out of the squad room, with me right at her heels.

That poor little girl had traces of high grade heroin all over her.

Part 13

“Charlie,” I greet him as Nikki and I breeze into the morgue. We’ve got good timing, I notice, as he and his assistant seem to be finishing up on Mrs. Dupont.

The big guy smiles, his left cheek bulging with chew. “Girls, you’re just in time,” he nods to Nikki as she steps up beside me.

She’s been quiet since we got into her car, willingly playing chauffeur since I wasn’t in the mood after I stormed out of the squad room. After asking her to drive us to Charlie’s office, I sat quietly the entire trip. Reflecting. Brooding. Wondering how God could let such evil be created that not only do people lie and cheat for the things they covet, but innocent little girls die for it.

Heroin. In a little girl’s room. The thought just boggles the mind.

But now we’re here and I have to play the professional.

I force a half-smile, just to make Charlie believe I’m happy to see him. I am happy to see him, but there’s just so much going through my mind right now that I know he can tell it’s fake. He’s used to it. He works with cops for a living.

“How are you doing, Charlie?” Nikki sounds more cheerful than me, for which I’m thankful. There’s only room for one broody cop in this partnership.

The Cajun grins more brightly, if that’s possible, and astonishingly doesn’t lose the wad of tobacco in his mouth. I guess it’s a good thing to have a talent like that. I can’t imagine what it might drop into if we was at the autopsy table.

I shudder at the thought and look at him expectantly.

“What have you got for us?”

Snapping off his bloody gloves, he throws them into a medical canister, then picks up three folders. One for each victim. Our timing is impeccable if he’s finished with all three.

Nikki and I walk over to him, both of us eyeing the two occupied tables as we walk by. I only recognize one, the other isn’t from our crime scene.

Charlie opens up the folder and the the two of us lean closer on either side of him, to get a better look.

“You see this?” He points at a lab result graph.

I can’t read the technical bits, but the summary explains it all.

“High grade heroin,” he points out, “with minute levels in the lil girl’s throat. Nothing in her lungs or blood stream, however.”

Nikki looks at me, “With it all over her, it had to be in the closet with her. We’ll have to check back with the lab and see if they found any traces in the room and closet.”

I frown, something is bugging me. We’re missing something important, obvious.

Her eyes narrow and I can see she’s thinking fast, going over possibilities. “Whoever was in the closet with her was carrying it?”

“I think it’s more than likely,” I affirm, but my sense of unease doesn’t lessen. “The contact on her was almost negligible. What got into her through her nose and mouth happened a breath or two before she was shot.”

I look up at Charlie. “T.O.D.?”

“Approximately 3:30 am for all three of them. Two gunshots to the male. Both upper chest. One right through the heart which killed him instantly. Two shots to the grandmother, with the first one hitting in the shoulder. I figure that there were three shots, with one missing so badly that it went off and hit the little girl. One of the shots hit the grandmother’s shoulder and a third was the fatal shot. She was sitting up when she caught a bullet in the throat,” Charlie rattles off the details from memory.

“And Lizzy Dupont?” Nikki queries. There isn’t an single inflection of emotion in her voice. She sounds like she might just be asking for a glass of iced tea. I don’t think I could do any better.

Charlie sighs heavily and opens another folder. He’s such a big man, in height and stature, that you’d think nothing could get to him. After all, he works with the dead all day and should be inured to all this. But it’s a rare man like Charlie that still shows such emotion in this cold place.

“That little girl got what had to be a third shot that was meant for her grandmother. Trajectory should show that when your CSI boys are done. It went right through the dresser in the grandparents bedroom, through the wall and closet. And right into that darling girl. It hit her in the back of the chest, almost expended of all energy by that time,” he explains.

He gestures with his chin towards the far wall, wanting us to follow him. “Look over here.”

He hands the reports to Nikki and walks down the wall along the stainless steel bays that house the dead when they aren’t on the autopsy tables. He hesitates, and then walks down a few more doors, finally opening up the one he is looking for. He’s silent as he does this work… this ritual. He’s the one person no one living ever wants to see, but he’s one of the few living beings that treats them with a last piece of dignity after they’re dead. All the dead who come here to this cold room have died from cruelty. I can’t imagine a man more thoughtful and loving to take care of them.

When the body, with it’s pure white sheet, comes into view the only thing I could think of was how little she is.

Clearing my throat, I can’t look at anyone, just down at that white sheet preparing myself. I can’t help it, this is the way that I prepare myself. Distancing myself from what I’m going to see. Cop eyes. Cop face. Cop mind. Damn. Sometimes I feel like every day on this job steals a bit more of the person I used to be.

Charlies reaches over and pulls the edge of the sheet down so Lizzy Dupont’s head and chest are revealed and I see her. Little Lizzy Dupont. Pretty black hair in cornrows along her skull. Her skin, once dark like molasses, now with a bluish-purple cast. Her eyes are closed in repose, but she doesn’t look like she’s sleeping. She looks dead.

Damn it.

An almost inaudible sigh escapes me and I reach up and pull out a long silver chain with a medallion on it. My Saint Michael’s medallion. My good luck charm. Usually it soothes me to rub my thumb over the back of it, but I’m not feeling very soothed right now. I almost jump as a warm hand slides across my shoulder and squeezes my bicep briefly before drifting off.

Nikki.

I glance over to her seeing that she’s standing next to me on one side. With Charlie on the other, we all looking at the little girl intently, our best game faces on.

“The exit wound is tiny,” Nikki notices, squinting.

“That isn’t an exit wound,” Charlie contradicts.

I immediately look at him in puzzlement for a split second and then look at the wound more closely. Nikki crowds closer to get a better view, brushing up against my side.

She says it before I can. “Very shallow scalpel cut. The bullet lodged between her breastbone and skin?”

Damn she’s observant. And right on the money as Charlie nods, confirming her observation. Charlie had to just barely cut the skin to get the bullet out. It was to the left of the Y incision that Charlie had made during the autopsy.

“This little baby girl just could not catch a break” he mutters, gently replacing the sheet over her and sliding the steel table back into the wall.

“Damn,” I mutter, “I’ve never seen that happen. But it went through a lot to get to her.”

I can hear a small sigh escape Nikki. I bet she’s thinking the same thing I am. If Lizzy been on the other side of the closet door, the bullet would have lodged in the door and little Lizzy might still be alive. But considering the spatter pattern, whoever was in that closet had been in line for the bullet if it had kept going through Lizzy.

Charlie looks over at the two bodies on the autopsy tables. “I hope you get the bastard that did this.”

It’s something Charlie says every time I see him at the start of a new case. He’s a passionate man. He would have made a fine cop, but instead he chose to help from behind the scenes. I can’t fault him for that and I’m immensely glad we have his talents.

“We’ll do our best, Charlie,” I say as Nikki and I make our way out of the room.

“Definitely,” Nikki assures him and then the door closes behind us and it’s just us two again.

We’re quiet for the few minutes it takes to get to the huge parking garage. I’m thinking about the case and where to go from here. Ellie Dupont is a good start. Nikki and I both think she’s not telling us everything. And after the heroin evidence came up, I bet she’s going to wind up being involved with it.

“So, talk to Dan next?” Nikki asks.

“Might as well,” I agree with the idea. I would love not to have to see him today, but she’s got a point. He’s our boss and he’s got to know where we are on this. Plus I want to sic him on the uniformed officer first on scene for being so damn sloppy. And Bouvier. Oh yeah.

We’re almost to the car, when Nikki nudges me in the side, startling me out of my thoughts. Broody cop is still around.

I look at her, slightly aggrieved but she’s got a little grin tugging at the corner of her lips as she holds out her hand offering the car keys. Broody? Moody? Me? Oh hell no. Not if she’s offering what I think she’s offering.

She nods, still with that quirky smile and I hold out my hand. Then I snatch it back, fast as lightning, as soon as she drops them into my greedy, hot little hand. I don’t want her to change her mind. No sir. No changing of the mind allowed. I’m smiling and it’s not just because she’s letting me drive her car. I know what she’s done and why she’s done it. Dan used to buy me ice cream to get me out of my funks. My new partner is going to let me drive her car. That’s love right there.

“I think I love you,” I whisper reverently, not even realizing what I’m saying.

Nikki looks at me with a wide-eyed started look that makes me almost laugh. With those big brown eyes of hers, she does look like a deer in the proverbial headlights.

“I meant the car, Nikki.”

Ignoring her snort of indignation, I gaze at Nikki’s baby. Yeah. I’m in love all right. Come to me my sweet, sweet creation of steel and power. Oh yeah, come to mama.

Part 14

I know it’s only a mile to the precinct from the Medical Examiners office, but I swear to God that if Nora doesn’t quit drifting over to the right and endangering my sideview mirror, it’s going to be the last day she’s going to drive. Ever.

My hand grips the door handle so hard I think I’ve put in a permanent imprint in it.

Nora’s wide smile as we pull into a spot near the entrance makes it all worth it however. And that’s what I intended, to try to bring her out of her rut or whatever it is that she’s been in this morning.

I’ve always believed that’s what partners are for. Not just to back each other up whether investigating or under fire. But to be there to pull each other out of the muck that we have to swim through every day, and in my fine estimation Dan has been letting Nora slip away into it. Yesterday, it was new to us, but now we’re getting into the meat of our new relationship and I hope I don’t step on her toes as I try to remind her she’s also human as well as a cop. I hope she does for me when it happens, and it will. No one can be human and NOT let it effect you. But this is a new relationship and one can’t know what blind alleys and cliffs are right around the corner until you hit them.

But I’m subtle. I took a calculated risk giving her the keys to my baby and I don’t mean that I was risking that she might wreck it, I truly don’t believe she will. No, the risk I took was to our newly born partnership.

I gambled and won.

Shaking my wrist to get some blood back into it, I exit the car, leaving Nora to her tricky seat belt. We get inside the precinct just in time to escape the downpour outside only to find a miniature storm inside the squad room by the name of Lt. Dan Jackson.

I follow Nora into his office, taking a seat when he gestures to the ones in front of his desk. “OK, not a problem,” he ends the call, and turns to us.

“That was the Chief. He needs answers. I need answers. So, let’s have it, Ladies.”

All business is good.

Nora looks at me for a moment with a questioning look. I have a good idea what she’s asking and I don’t mind, so I give her a small nod, letting her know that I realize she has to take charge of the conversation.

It affords me the opportunity to watch their interactions as she proceeds to go over our findings. Then she goes into how we’re going to try and track down Simon Martins, the boyfriend of Ellie Dupont. He’s supposedly in Mississippi but no one answered the phone when I called yesterday afternoon. The phone is registered to his mother however, a Maureen Martins Perhaps a call to the local sheriffs office would get an officer or two out there just to check for us.

Then something hit me. Dan said he just got off the phone with the Chief of Police. He wouldn’t have needed to tell us that unless it concerns us specifically. What is going on here?

“Lt. Jackson?” I interrupt at an opportune moment. Nora has given most of the information we have, so I don’t feel as if I’m being rude. I do note that she hasn’t mentioned Darius yet.

“Call me, Dan, please,” he smiles at me, throwing a little charm my way.

“Dan…” I drawl, tossing a bit of my own charm out there.

Nora does a little fake clearing of the throat behind her hand, trying not to laugh. I don’t know what’s so funny however. I’m charming. I know it. Anyway…

“Dan, you mentioned you were just on the phone with Chief Harrison?” I put it out there, hoping I’m right and that there’s something to share with us.

He nods, but doesn’t look happy about the thought. “Have either of you heard the news or watched it today? Seen a paper?”

When both of us shake our heads, Dan continues, “A member of the esteemed fourth estate,” he says the word as if he’s describing dog excrement on the sidewalk. “managed to buy a cellphone picture from someone with an extremely good shot of the little girl on the gurney being wheeled out of the house. Someone that had to be on the scene,” he adds.

“Well hell,” the exclamation just comes out. With news like that it can only mean one thing.

Media storm.

Nothing like having to see a photo of a dead child to rile up morning coffee drinkers.

Nora speaks up and she’s definitely not happy with the situation, “Dan, you know who sold that photo…”

And just like that the conversation is over and Dan’s face closes up, “I’ll make sure Robbery gets taken off the case as secondary. Now, get to work. Get me results.”

Nora is out of the office like a shot, slamming the door open and walking to our desks.

Myself, I stand up slowly and give Dan an inquisitive look, inviting comment or some kind of explanation. Something. Nora was his partner not too long ago, so it would be nice if he could give me a clue as to what may have pissed off Nora.

“You’re excused,” is all he says. Pointedly looking at the door.

Thank you, very much. No, no, it’s OK. Please keep all your little Nora secrets to yourself. I’m sure I’ll get to have more secrets with her than you could even dream about.

It’s funny how you think something, and realize that it comes out with a different meaning than what you intended.

I walk out of his office, making a beeline towards Nora, conveniently forgetting to close his door. Before I can get even halfway there, my cellphone rings.

I look at the caller id and immediately answer.

“Darius, it’s always a pleasure,” I greet him cheerfully, speaking a little too loudly in order to catch Nora’s attention. I nod towards the hallway, cluing her in that I’m going to take it in a more quiet atmosphere.

“Hey sweet thing, you sound so very pleased to hear from me. Are you sure you should be flirting with me with that gorgeous new partner of yours around? I wouldn’t want to cramp your style,” he chuckles evilly over the phone.

“Hon, if I wanted you to comment on my lov…” I immediately stop what I’m about to say as I realize Nora has followed me out into the hallway. God, if I could please not be blushing right now, I would forever be thankful.

Damn it.

“What have you got for us?” I demand, trying to get the conversation under control. Nora stands next to me, listening in on my side of the conversation and watching the few people going down the hall.

“Heh… she just walked up didn’t she?” he ignores my request. I swear that the man is the bane of my existence, and, fortunately for him, a blessing of it.

“Yes. Now may we please…”

He interrupts me again, but his tone has changed. Darius knows he can only push my buttons, big red buttons though they may be, so many times before I attempt to kill him.

“I got some info on your girl, Ellie Dupont. The word is she likes bad boys. Bad boys that like to take care of her. Unfortunately, her latest bad boy…”

This time I interrupt him, “Simon Martins?”

Nora perks up at the name. I know she would love to be interrogating Darius herself, but she’s being good and letting me be his handler. I appreciate the trust.

“That’s him. He’s got some heavy hitters looking for him right now. Apparently, the last shipment of junk he was couriering over from Mississippi is missing. And so is he. He’s alive however. He was spotted near the Blue Heron, down by N. Robertson in the 7th Ward, sometime last night.”

Darius sounds certain about his information and I trust him not to give me a false lead. Especially not a false lead in the 7th ward. 27 murders in that neighborhood alone last year. The highest in the entire city. The 9th gets a bad rap, but of the 125+ homicides each year, the 9th is no where near the top.

“Thanks, hon. I appreciate it,” I tell him, meaning it.

“One more thing…” he interrupts before I can say anything else.

“What is it?”

“I’m pretty sure, not positive mind you, that he’s got someone with him, backing him up. So be careful. Don’t make me call MeeMaw on you,” he threatens. He knows how powerful of a threat it is too. His Grandmother, his MeeMaw as we say in the south, is a terror if you get on her bad side.

“I will,” I promise earnestly. “How you do your magic, Darius, I will never understand. You’re a miracle worker.”

Nora’s being a champ and just keeping an ear out on my side of the conversation. I’m sure I’ll be swamped with questions after I hang up.

“Well, I did find out his shoe size if you really want to know,” Darius answers seriously.

Huh? I take the phone away from my ear and look at it, puzzled, for a second and then bring it back.

“Right…and I’m sure you know his underwear size too,” I quip back, winking at Nora.

“No, but I did find out what kind Nora wears,” he deadpans.

It’s an odd mixture of sensations and feelings going through me right now. I’m both startled and curious.

“Thongs, Nikki. Thongs,” he laughs and immediately hangs up before I can respond.

Not that I notice, since I’m struck dumb.

“Nikki?”

Oh my.

“Nikki?”

A warm hand comes up to my shoulder and squeezes gently to get my attention.

“Nikki? You OK?” Nora’s voice finally cuts through the haze in my mind.

I’m going to kill that little…

Part 15

So, Simon Martins isn’t in Mississippi after all.

Somehow, I’m not surprised.

“Let’s go get something on the way to Ellie Dupont’s,” I suggest and go to grab our coats, leaving Nikki in the hallway for a moment. Nikki seems to be her more normal, clear-eyed self as I come back into the hallway, so whatever it was couldn’t have been too bad.

As she puts on her three-quarter length leather coat, I ponder getting one myself. The length definitely looks good on her, but I think the shorter jacket I wear suits me more.

“Hey,” she speaks up, “where are we going?”

“How about Peter’s? It’s on the way. Good deli.” I look out the door and see that it’s still raining and doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon. “Or maybe not.”

“Afraid of getting a little wet, Detective?”

The challenging look Nikki shoots me makes my spine stiffen. I only have one flaw, OK maybe more, but I’m terribly competitive.

“Not at all, Detective, but are you sure you can afford to get wet? No maidservants to run after you here with a hair dryer,” I quip back.

An elegant eyebrow lifts along with a humoring smile. I think a certain Nikki Beaumont is a tad competitive herself.

The next few minutes find us out on the wet New Orleans sidewalks, jaywalking when it’s safe, weaving in and out of the way of the few pedestrians that are out in the heavy rain.

By the time we hit Peter’s Deli, we’re a bit drenched but laughing. Of course, that’s when Bobby calls me.

“Hey, Bobby. I hope you and that nag you call a partner aren’t out in this?” I greet him.

“My horse is not a nag! Shiela is not a nag!”

My brother is just too easy.

“I was talking about Jim,” I get a good chuckle out of it as I follow Nikki inside. We’ve missed the lunch crowd, so thankfully the line is empty.

“Hey, I’m calling about lunch. Nikki told me to call,” Bobby asks. “Where are you?”

“We’re picking up lunch now at Peter’s, to go,” I emphasis.

“Peter’s? We’re not too far away actually…”

“Umm…brrkk…rrrggghhh… You’re breaking up … brrrkk.” I hang up the phone.

Nikki is looking at me, eyes wide open in surprise at my antics.

“Damn. Lost connection. Must be,” I fumble for a good answer, “ionization in the atmosphere affecting our cellular area.”

She laughs, “I take it he was asking about lunch?”

“Yes, but we don’t have the time. Unless you really wanted to go out to lunch with him?” I ask. Did I read it all wrong? Not that I don’t wish my brother to find a nice woman to spend his time with, but not… not Nikki, I realize. Damn, but what if she’s bi? OK, well, still. It’s my brother. He’s not… She’s not…

My thoughts are suddenly all over the place, trying to figure out a good reason why it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“It’s fine, Nora,” she pauses to order a small salad.

I give my order as well, hoping they fix our lunch fast.

She waits until I’m finished and continues, “I’m sure your brother is swell, but I don’t play both teams anymore.”

“I didn’t want to assume…” I begin, but she interrupts.

“Besides, he’s your brother,” Nikki explains, “I don’t date cops.”

I pause as I gather up extra napkins, utensils. I usually keep the car stocked with a few extras. Dan was a messy eater.

“Really? Never?” I can understand the reasoning behind it and completely agree with the sentiment, but something makes me ask just the same.

She’s gives me an unfathomable look, then nudges me with an elbow, “Is that an offer, Detective?”

My face is flaming red and I’m sputtering. Something has got to be wrong with my brain today. I seriously consider that I may have to go to the doctor soon.

“Nora, I’m joking,” Nikki smiles mischievously and adds, “Although…”

“Nikki Beaumont, I swear you flirt with anything that moves,” I say rolling my eyes dramatically, but I’m secretly enjoying it. The flirting is just who she is and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. In fact, it keeps me on my toes and makes day lighter on my shoulders.

Picking up our order we start to head out.

“We can take my car, since it’s closer,” I suggest since the rain isn’t showing signs of stopping. Besides, I don’t think she’ll let me drive her Mustang again soon and I don’t want to have a stroke from dealing with her exuberant driving in this weather.

Hydroplaning is not fun.

She nods and follows me out the door. Four rainy blocks later, I spot my car and hop in, unlocking her side quickly.

I guess it’s only fair that today she’s the one startled by what I’m driving.

“El Camino? I always pictured them as… well…”

I chuckle as I buckle up and wait until she does as well before starting up the engine.

“I bought it from a police auction before I went to college. There she was, this ’85 Chevy El Camino, in a sick green color. It was so beat up, but something about it… it was love at first sight. When I got back from college… well, dad and my brothers had fixed it up during my last year away.” I start to explain while pulling out and starting down the road. The rain has thinned out a lot of the afternoon drivers thankfully.

“He did it for me as a kind of ’consolation’ gift I think,” I elaborate.

“For what?”

I reach up with one hand and pull out my St. Michael’s medallion. The chain is long, so I don’t protest when Nikki leans over and reaches out to take a better look at it. Her fingers brush over mine before I let it go.

“Saint Michael. Patron Saint of Policemen,” Nikki notes correctly before she lets it go.

“My grandfather had a Saint Michael’s which he gave my dad when he joined the force. It had always been my plan to follow in his footsteps after college, but Bobby beat me to it by three months, right out of high school. I was furious with him, of course, and since my college graduation and his police academy class graduation were happening at the same time… well, I told them not to come out since I wasn’t going to attend mine.”

That had been a tough three months for me. A love affair had ended badly around the same time, so I was a wreck, barely able to complete my finals. By the time I finished, I hadn’t been in the mood to do anything but come home.

“And?” Nikki prompts softly.

“Dad had promised all us kids, that if one of us joined the force we’d get his Dad’s St. Michael’s. Kind of the start of a family tradition. Bobby hadn’t shown any interest in joining the police force, and my other brothers went their own way, so it was always assumed I’d get it,” I shook my head at the memory. One thing is for sure, it taught me not to take things for granted, even little things like the St. Michael’s. “Anyway, Daddy gave the medal to Bobby and bought me one on his own when I went into the force. I rarely take it off.”

“That was sweet of him. And the car?” she continues.

“He and my brothers had been fixing it up as a graduation present that year, but I’ve always considered the car to be my real present for joining the force, since he had hung the medallion off the rearview mirror before bringing it out to me.”

Glancing over, I can see Nikki smiling. I shrug and add, “Bobby wasn’t happy about it, since I got a hot car and he got a horse.”

We both laugh, even though the Mounted Division don’t own their own horses, they have their own mounts assigned to them.

“I think you got the better deal out of the bargain,” she comments.

The rest of our drive is mostly silent, as I take periodic bites one-handedly of my sandwich, with Nikki helping with a well-timed napkin or drink to my hand. It probably isn’t the smartest thing driving one-handed in the rain, but we have work to get to.

We’re halfway through Algiers neighborhood when she packs up the remainder of her salad and my discarded remnants. Tossing it all back in the bags she asks, “Mind if I ask another question?”

I look over at her for a split second, then back onto the road. I have an idea what she’s going to ask. I’m not thrilled to talk about it, but she’s going to find out sooner or later. Someone always talks in the precinct. Gossip is almost as good as facts to bored cops.

“Sure.”

She takes the last sip of her drink and puts the rest in the bag. Nikki looks around for a moment, but since there’s no back seat, there’s really no place to put trash.

“Just tuck it down by your feet. We’ll throw it out when we get back to the precinct. It’s one reason why I keep the inside of my car spotless,” I say, noticing her looking around for a place to put it.

She does it, but doesn’t seem to happy about it. Finally she gives in and tucks it under the seat with a heel. When she finally speaks, there is a hesitant note to her voice, like she’s not entirely sure it’s OK to ask. New partner jitters.

“Back in Dan’s office…” she starts, but I interrupt.

“Say no more,” I answer. “You should know anyway.”

“Detective Bouvier was my first partner when I became detective, back in Robbery in fact,” I start off. The entire incident leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I kind of wish I had some of that juice left to wash it out.

“As you can probably tell from meeting him yesterday, Bill isn’t keen on me. Well, that was how it was from the start, it only got worse later after I started talking to Internal Affairs about his… habits,” I spit out the word with venom.

“Let me guess. Kick backs?” Nikki asks. I know instinctively that the disgusted tone in her voice isn’t for me. I can imagine the things she’s seen being as her father is a Councilman.

Louisiana is known for having corrupt politicians. It has been since before Louisiana became a state. Corrupt politicians, policemen, bureaucrats. However, even though Councilman Arthur Beaumont is known to be old school New Orleans, he’s also one of the most uncorruptable politicians in the state. He could have gone further into politics and run for state senate but the papers always said he turned down such offers to back his candidacy, saying that he loved New Orleans too much to leave it to the bottom feeders.

A snort of derision escapes me at her dead-on guess.

“Kick backs. Protection. Out and out bribes,” I barely get it all out, my hands tightening hard on the wheel. “And he got away with it, because I was too new and Bouvier was smart. He always had me stay out in the car when he had to go into a local bar for a ’few minutes to talk to someone’ or ’pick up my laundry’. It didn’t take a new detective badge for me to eventually guess that something was up when we would go to the same places time after time. After a few point blank questions from me and the runaround from him, I started just watching him more closely.”

My knuckles and fingers are white from the pressure but I can’t seem to release the tension building inside.

“I started noticing that certain scenes we were assigned to started appearing in photos the newspapers. Not often. Not many. Just one or two photos at a time spread out over months. “That’s when I went to Internal Affairs,” I spit out the last two words with such frustration that Nikki reaches out and puts a calming hand on my right forearm. She only touches my leather clad arm a moment, but it instantly calms me down.

A hard shudder goes through my body as all that tension is released.

“You OK?” Nikki whispers, concern for me in her voice.

“Yes, I’m fine… Internal Affairs couldn’t find solid proof and Bouvier demanded a new partner. I spent another year in Robbery with him undermining me at every turn. And then I got offered a shot with Homicide.” I stop talking for a moment to get my bearings, we’re in the right neighborhood, not too far away from our destination.

“Homicide? I’m surprised you made it to homicide with him trying to tank your career,” Nikki said curiously.

The truth is, I had been surprised too. But apparently I have an angel on my shoulder that is looking out for me. If Bouvier had his druthers, I’d be in Vice by now. Sitting on a corner for the rest of my life picking up Johns for the wagon.

“Someone thought I knew what I was talking about, I suppose? I don’t know. I spent almost two years in Homicide with Dan as my partner before the Special Crimes Unit was created and we were both asked to join. And now we’re here,” I say, pulling in front of a nondescript house.

“So we are,” Nikki notes. She unbuckles her seat belt but doesn’t get out of the car. Turning in the seat she gets straight to business, “What’s the plan?”

Good question.

Part 16

One of the things I dislike about being a cop is that I can’t carry an umbrella. They are too bulky, limit your vision, and pretty much are inconvenient when you have to pull your weapon.

So I have to live with the rain. Today is one of those days that proves my point.

Nora and I are walking up to Ellie’s home when we notice the front door ajar and hear groaning coming from inside.

We both clear our weapons and ready ourselves for anything. Nora knocks on the front door frame loudly and calls out, “NOPD! Coming in!”

I have her back, checking our rear and to the sides, as she opens the door fully and steps in, her gun out and ready.

I’m only steps behind her, pointing my Glock wherever I look.

There’s been a fight, a lamp lays broken on the floor but it’s seeing Ellie laying on the ground, trying to scoot into a corner, that spurs me past Nora and to her side.

Nora keeps an eye on the hallway while I check Ellie.

“Ellie?” I reach down, keeping my other hand out of her reach but ready in case I have to use it.

She’s taken a few lumps but doesn’t seem to be in immediate danger.

“Don’t move,” I bring my voice down to a whisper and stand back up. We need to clear the house.

Nora and I are instantly in sync. Clearing rooms, keeping each other in sight and watching each other’s backs. The back door proves to be shut and locked, so we head back to the living room after making sure no one else is in the house.

“Stay here with her,” Nora says and moves out to check the perimeter.

I instantly take a dislike to the order, since I don’t want to let my partner out of my sight. If whomever did this is outside Nora has to find out, but I know that Ellie takes a priority now.

“Ellie, it’s Detective Beaumont. We’re here to help you,” I state and I gingerly move her chin so she’ll look directly at me. When her eyes focus on me, I gently roll Ellie fully onto her back so I can take a closer look at her injuries, going over her entire body with my left hand checking for any obviously broken bones.

“Don’t… please…” she whimpers as I touch her, but I have to know.

She’s obviously scared and bruised when she suddenly hurdling herself at me.

I tense up for a moment, expecting an attack, but she’s just wrapping her arms around me crying into my shoulder.

I holster my weapon and pull her up onto the couch to sit, then disengage myself from her, but keeping close so she feels protected.

Flipping open my cellphone, I call dispatch and immediately tell them to send out an ambulance, but Ellie interrupts me.

“No! No! I’m okay, really,” she cries, collapsing upon herself and shuddering. “No ambulance!”

I eye the front door, and just when I was wondering what’s keeping my partner, Nora comes walking through the door, only holstering her own weapon when she sees that we’re fine.

“Clear,” Nora says and I nod back, glad everything is OK. At least on the outside of the house.

Ignoring Ellie’s request I finish the short call and assess the situation. It doesn’t take much to know that it’s probably a domestic dispute, what with several bruises beginning to form on the woman’s arms and the swollen lip.

“Ellie? Ellie, listen to me,” I ask gently. She scared but has gathered enough of her wits to look at me. “Who did this? Simon?”

I’ve seen the look in far too many battered women’s eyes as a patrol officer. The look of love and fear mixed together.

“Ellie? Where is he?” I demand a bit more firmly.

But she’s not buying it.

“It’s nothing. Please go,” she whimpers and pulls one of the couch pillows to her middle and starts rocking back and forth. “I wasn’t Simon… Simon is in Mississippi.”

She’s not as good of a liar today, I think silently and look up at my partner.

Nora looks tense and somewhat annoyed. It’s hard to be a cop sometimes. Battered women generally make it harder on the police than the perpetrators. They still love the person who abuses them and cover for their crimes.

He loves me.

He didn’t mean to hurt me.

He’s just angry.

No, I will not press charges.

He loves me.

Two hours later, the police cars are gone and the ambulance is pulling away, without Ellie Dupont in it.

The EMTs said she didn’t seem to be in any danger, but they did note there were prior bruises that are still healing. Ones that Ellie covered up yesterday or we would have asked her about them.

It’s Nora who asks them to look for any signs of habitual heroin use, but since Ellie refuses to let them check her out and refuses to go with them, they can’t say anything definite.

No matter how we pressure her, she won’t press charges or even come downtown. We can’t force her into the car without arresting her, not unless we want to cause a huge stink from the media nosing around.

And there are a couple around, swarming like vultures, just off the property. Nora took care to make sure they didn’t harass us or Ellie too much while the squad cars and ambulance were here. She even threatened to take them all to jail for trespassing if they had stepped one foot on the premises. There should be more, since Ellie is the mother of the flavor of the day in the newspapers, but the rain has weeded a lot of them out for us.

And without some sort of proof, we can’t drag her in for questioning if she keeps denying Simon is in town. Our hands are tied and she’s refusing to speak.

Time to leave Ellie Dupont to her pain and ask some questions at the Blue Heron.

As we leave the house, Nora tosses me the keys to her car. It’s not my baby but I enjoy driving it. Nora and I chat about the case on the way over, talking easily like we’ve been partners for months instead of two days.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asks out of the blue, changing the subject.

“Going to Daddy’s for dinner,” I reply as I switch in and out of traffic easily despite the rain. “Why?”

“How about we get together after work tomorrow? I have some snapper that I want to grill up,” Nora asks casually.

It’s not an unusual request from what I’ve seen in my 5 years. Cops don’t tend to socialize outside the police department just due to the stress of the job and civilians hesitating to do anything “improper” around their cop friends. It’s hard for us to make friends outside of the force. Even my old friends act differently around me, except for Darius. But then he’s not just a friend, he’s family.

“Sure, what should I bring?”

I glimpse Nora looking at me and I glance over, returning her easy smile. “Just yourself. A bottle of wine if you want.”

“Wine I can do,” I assure her, looking forward to tomorrow night.

We park near the Blue Heron and make our way inside, badges in coat pockets, guns holstered on our hips but under our coats. The customers inside eye us curiously, since we’re not the average bar fly coming in out of the rain. And it’s obvious we’re looking for someone. It’s too bad he’s not here, we could have used a break.

I gaze over to the bartender, see the interest in his eyes and change my body language with a single thought. We’d already decided that I’d ask the bartender questions since Nora says I make a better “good cop”. I tend to agree, I can flirt like nobody’s business and could get answers out of a stone if I pour it on. Nora however probably makes a great “bad cop”. I can’t wait to see it in action. I bet it’s sexy.

I have to stop thinking thoughts like that, it’s distracting.

Waltzing up to the bar, I aim for the bartender. He’s already caught in my dazzling smile believing it’s just for him.

“Well, hello darlin’. What can I get yah,” he greets. He’s average in height and weight, pretty nondescript except for the long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail which reaches halfway down his back. I admit it, I’m a sucker for blond hair, but his doesn’t do anything for me. I look him up and down appreciatively for just an instant before meeting his blue eyes straight on.

I pull a police photo out of my coat and lean towards him over the bar. “I was wondering if you could do me a small favor?” I ask, letting my natural drawl ooze out. Men, even Southern men that have heard women speaking that accent their entire lives, go haywire when it’s used on them. It makes us seem simpler in their eyes, non-threatening.

In other words, putty in my hands.

He looks around at the few other customers at the bar, then back to me.

“Well, I do believe I’ve seen him around here once or twice the last few days. Hanging around Daryl Stevens. Black guy. Big. No hair. Has a tat on his neck, a tribal thing. Can’t mistake him if you see him,” he supplies to my good fortune.

“Well thank you. Would you happen to know where he lives?”

“Nope. He’s in the neighborhood though. Tough guy,” he adds, looking at me closely. “You probably want to be careful around him, Missy.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you for your assistance,” I tell him then turn back to my partner.

Nora seems to be amused, still standing against the back wall, arms crossed and listening carefully to the short conversation while keeping an eye out on the customers.

“Done?” she asks, cracking a wry smile.

“Well, I could spend an hour or two killing my braincells here with some bourbon, but I guess I’ll have to wait until after work,” I quip back. She’s amused by my flirting with the bartender.

“But it would be boring, though, without the right company,” I comment as we walk back out into the rain and get into the car.

Buckling up, I can’t resist saying as I shake the water out of my hair, “Although if it’ll make you feel better, Detective, I can show you what real flirting is during dinner tomorrow.” I shoot her a syrupy sweet smile and laugh when she rolls her eyes and starts the car.

“Like I could stop you?” she laughs back.

Part 17

Daryl Stevens.

Arrested for three counts of Assault and Battery on three different occasions. Spent five years in jail total. Arrested for Intent to distribute one, charges dropped. No known employment. No known family in New Orleans.

Quite the resume.

His last known address is about five blocks from the Blue Heron and Nikki and I had just talked with the the uncooperative landlord. Since she wouldn’t let us in without a warrant and there’s no answer at the door, we had gone back to the precinct with a bag full of nothing.

Back at the precinct we had spoken with Dan, seeing if we can pull some warrants on Daryl Stevens and Simon Martins. Unfortunately, without some evidence there’s not a judge that’s going to supply one. Which means we do this the old fashioned way.

Stake out.

Right now, though, we have to catch up on paperwork while Nikki and I consider our options. Final reports from the CSIs and the Medical Examiner’s office arrive, but there’s nothing new here that can help us.

“Hey Georgia,” I call out to the SCU’s only other female detective as she walks into the squad room. “Where’s that old scraggly partner of yours, Mitchell?”

“Hey, Delaney. Seth is up at the courthouse. It’s his turn to turn in the paperwork,” she smiles as she walks over.

The tall, black woman looks at Nikki curiously, “Hi, I’m Georgia Vincent.” She thrusts forward a hand to greet Nikki.

“I’m sorry, I have the worst manners,” I exclaim and stand up. “Georgia, this is Detective Nikki Beaumont, my new partner.”

She smiles at Nikki, greeting her warmly, which Nikki returns as she shakes her hand. “It’s nice to see another female in the room.”

Georgia chuckles, “Give us time, we’ll be taking over soon.”

“Your words to God’s ears,” Nikki replies and we all chuckle.

I pull Georgia back with a question, “How’s that case you caught across the river in Algiers?”

Georgia rolls her eyes, “Done, Charlie reported it as a suicide. There was no note, but based on how the knots were tied, no one else could have tied them but him.”

“Well…” I glance over at Dan’s office and then back to Georgia, “Maybe Nikki and I can talk you in to helping with a little stakeout time on our case?”

I take a seat and motion the two of them closer. Nikki leans back on my desk on my side, her leg brushing mine. Georgia just turns and leans a little closer. We’re both used to having to do to some preliminary planning and have all our ducks in a row in order to get the brass to agree with anything. And since Dan is now one of those who we have to appease, having our plan laid out is doubly important.

If I can get Georgia and Seth approved to spend a little time with us on the clock for a stakeout, he’ll be more willing to approve a set or two of unis in unmarked cars for round the clock surveillance.

If this works. There’s never a guarantee that the suspect will lead you the way you hope he will.

Charlie calls it, “Flushing the grouse.” You send the bird dogs into the open fields, hoping there’s a pheasant or grouse in the brush to flush the game. Even though you’re ready for the birds to fly, you’re not always facing the right way.

“The Dupont case?” Georgia asks.

Nikki steps in, “We have a lead or two, but we need to flush them.”

Georgia nods, knowing where this is going, “Let me talk to Seth. I know his wife is out of town for a couple weeks visiting family so he gets bored at home alone. I’m sure I can bribe him… that is if you promise to pay up this time, Nora. The last time you had us back you and Dan up I never got my Tulane football tickets.”

Ouch. I’d forgotten about that.

“I’ll see what I can do, but the tickets might be nosebleed…” I start to promise but Nikki interjects.

“I can get you two sets of 50 yard line, no problem,” Nikki says without missing a beat.

Both Georgia and I look at her. If you live in New Orleans, it’s almost guaranteed you have to love “The Wave”, the Tulane football team, so getting those good of tickets means you have access to season tickets.

Nikki looks back at me, giving me a slight smirk, rolling her eyes self-depreciatingly at the same time. “I’m an Alumni. They’re always tossing free tickets at me.”

She’s being politic and not mentioning her Daddy, so I give her a little nod. The grateful smile she gives me is reward enough.

Coming from a family of cops, I understand how tough it must be for her. She’s her own person and wants to stand on her own feet. I respect that.

Georgia gives us her promise that she’ll talk to Detective Mitchell and moves off to her desk.

I look up at Nikki, still standing so close that our legs are touching. I can feel the heat through her slacks and it’s oddly comforting, kind of like the hand on my shoulder this morning when we went to go see Charlie.

“You up for this tonight? I know you have dinner with your father,” I ask. I’d forgotten about it until just now and I feel like a heel.

Warm, brown eyes look down and meet mine, “It’s fine. Daddy and I get together a few times a month for either Lunch or Dinner. He’ll understand since it’s work.” She pauses a moment then considers, “I know you suggested the stakeout, but did you have plans tonight?”

I shake my head ruefully, “My plans are usually a long, hot soak in the tub, alone. Maybe a glass or two of Bookers or 1972…”

Nikki interrupts, putting a warm hand on my forearm, her eyes wide with delight, “You my dear, have good taste.”

Shrugging, I explain, “My granddaddy taught me about bourbon. He caught me drinking some Old Forester once and told me, ’Nora, you’re the only person in this family with a decent taste bud and by god, I don’t care if you are a girl, I’m going to teach you right.’”

Pausing, I smile at the memory and then slyly tell her, “I was 16 at the time. we still have ’drinking lessons’ once in a while, when I go up to visit.”

Nikki laughs, squeezing my arm before finally letting it go. “Good man. I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s up in Pointe Coupee Parish, outside of a little town called Fordouche. He comes down to New Orleans a few times a year. I’m sure he’d be tickled to meet you actually. He was the one who always pressured me to be a cop,” I smile. I love my Granddaddy something fierce.

The brief respite is over and we’ve got to get this show on the road. Sighing, I lever myself up and look over at Dan. “Let’s go face the lion’s den and talk our fearful leader into approving stakeout time.”

“The sooner the better. We’ve got to get you into that bath and a nice glass of bourbon to cool you off,” Nikki says.

Now why in the world am I blushing at that thought?

Part 18

Getting Dan to OK the extra man-hours was easier than we thought. He’s been getting major pressure all day from Chief Harrison, the media calls, and the local neighborhood church. They all want answers, and thankfully he knows that we’re trying to get them for him.

It’s just a shame that there aren’t that many answers to be had, just more questions.

There isn’t any heroin at the crime scene, except that which was on Lizzy Dupont.

The mother won’t tell us anything new, not even who it was that split her lip.

Ellie Dupont said that boyfriend is supposed to be in Mississippi, but the word on the street was otherwise.

Darius also mentioned that Simon is a courier and he’s apparently missing his last shipment of heroin.

Vice hasn’t heard of him, so there was no help from that source.

There were at least two people entering the house, one shooting the two grandparents and the little girl at the same time, with the second in the closet with the Lizzy.

Since we have unis at the initial location back in the 7th Ward, Nora and I are following a hit we got from his parole records. We’re at a possible location for Daryl Stevens here in the Lower 9th that he gave his parole officer for his place of residence when he got out of jail a few months ago. And so we’re here.

No one answers the door when we arrive. Typical. It looks like Simon Martins and Daryl Stevens are not making this easy for us. There’s been absolutely nothing to see here for the last hour except for a dark house on a quiet street. And if he doesn’t show up here soon, we’re going to have to leave and head back to Algiers to take over from the unis that are on first watch.

Stakeouts can either be really boring or moderately dull. Once again, Nora Delaney seems to be the exception to that rule. She’s actually fun on stakeouts.

Right now she’s creating a row of circus animal origami and placing them on the dashboard of my Mustang. My favorite is the elephant so far, she’s even made the tiny trunk curl up.

She’s making what I think is a horse, but…

“Are you sure that is supposed to be a horse?” I ask, trying to sound innocently curious.

OK, maybe not so innocently-sounding as I hoped, because I get an eyeful as Nora glares at me. She’s cute when she’s perturbed. She’s also cute when she’s bored. Hell. OK, she’s just cute. And gorgeous. Have I mentioned gorgeous lately?

But I’m being good. No flirting. Just business. Well, admiring her… craft skills probably isn’t business, but sitting here for an hour now in the dark with only the sound of the rain constantly coming down on the roof of the car and our chatter back and forth, means I have to keep my mind busy.

OK. Time to be honest with myself. I’m actually more than just enjoying being here in the car with Nora. My partner. My gorgeous, smart, funny, and talented partner. Operative word being partner.

But it doesn’t stop a small part of me wishing it were otherwise.

Yes, we’re cops. I don’t date cops. Too complicated. Sitting here, no matter how entertaining Nora is, is driving my thoughts into areas that would be better not contemplated.

Mind back on the game, Beaumont.

We’ve been doing word association for the last few minutes as she does her origami thing. It’s keeping us awake. Sort of.

I still don’t think that’s a horse. It’s not drooling after all.

Nora creases a line in the paper with the edge of her short, manicured thumb nail.

That’s another thing that surprises me about Nora. She takes good care of herself, but doesn’t overdo it. She enjoys being a woman, but has a touch of tomboy that suits her. Sure she looks tough and I’d love to see her in the locker room to see how tough, but the nails, her gorgeous hair, the makeup that’s just right, and her outfits. All scream female, not ’I’m a big bad butch cop’. But she’s got that natural toughness you don’t see in most women. I bet she makes a great ’bad cop’ in interrogations. It probably comes from being raised in a household full of boys.

I drag my eyes back to the doorway a block down, keeping an eye out for cars and pedestrians. We’re using my car, since Nora and I both agree that the Mustang, while great eye candy, wouldn’t be as noticeable as the El Camino.

“Horn.” I start out the next round of our little mental game. I’m not really concentrating, just blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. I guess that’s the point.

“Cover blown,” Nora replies.

I look over and give Nora a wry grin, which she returns rather sheepishly. “I can’t help it.”

Rolling my eyes dramatically so she can see, I turn back to watching the house.

“Rain.”

“More rain.”

This isn’t working obviously. I’ll have to get more… creative.

“Kiss.”

There’s a long pause and I’m about to prompt her, when she replies, “Moustache.”

I look back over to her. “Oh come on, Nora! Moustache?”

She’s looking at me slyly and I realize I’ve been had. I smack her thigh with the back of my hand.

“What was your first answer?” I demand, suddenly very curious.

“Daryl Stevens.”

My eyes blink several times before I get the connection and look back into the rain.

“Well, well, well… it looks like you’ve been reprieved, Detective.” I quip as I make sure my gun is positioned comfortably on my hip and my badge is visible on the opposite side.

“It’s all about the timing, Detective,” Nora says as she gets out of the car.

I’m with her only a heartbeat later, both of us walking fast down the sidewalk to the car that had pulled up into the driveway.

The rain makes good cover really. I can’t count the number of times when I’ve gotten out of my car and not looked around quite thoroughly enough, just because I wanted to get out of the rain.

“Daryl Stevens?” Nora asks as we split up and flank him while he’s busy grabbing something from the back seat.

The man pulls his front half out of the back seat and looks at my partner.

To say that he looks the part of a hardened street thug would be putting it mildly. It’s not the tattoos, it’s not the muscles, it’s the look he’s giving her. A look I do not appreciate in the slightest.

“Whatcha’ want?” He demands, immediately on the defensive. He’s seen the badge, and Nora’s leather jacket rides up enough to show her gun.

“How about we go inside to talk?” I suggest, catching his attention. He glances behind him, straight at me and I smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that… we can go up on my porch tho’, to get outta the rain,” he says, his eyes flicking back and forth between my partner and I.

I tense up, pushing the edge of my longer leather jacket back so it’s tucked behind my gun. He’s going to bolt.

Unfortunately, shooting an unarmed suspect is against the law. Even when they shoulder your partner away and into you, so you both go down in a mass of tangled limbs.

Nora isn’t light, but thank god she’s not heavy. She gets up off of me and like a shot is after him.

“Call it in!” she yells as I’m already getting my radio out.

It slows me down slightly, so instead I turn and head for the car.

Moments later I’m gunning the Mustang down the street, hitting the low beams and sliding around a corner after them. He’s booking but I can see my partner running full out after him. She’s quick, but his legs are longer. Daryl Stevens veers off after hitting the next block and vaults over a back fence. Nora gestures for me to go around the block to try and cut him off.

I’m already on it.

I hit the next corner, braking and turning the wheel so my car is in a controlled slide, then gun it again. Thank god no one sane is out in this downpour.

Well, except for me. I’m sane. Nora’s sane. OK, mind on the mission, Beaumont.

I catch Daryl on the other side of the block as he’s about to dart between two cars and out into the street.

Timing is critical, since I don’t want to run him over or break anything important.

I hit the brakes just right and slam open my car door, right into our subject. Daryl goes flying into the street and I’m there, gun out, aiming straight for his body.

“Daryl, Daryl, Daryl… stupid idea. Don’t move,” I yell at him. He’s laying on the ground groaning and gasping for breath.

American steel versus muscle bound man, 1 - 0.

Nora comes running up, not quite out of breath, drenched to the bone and looking pissed off.

“I brought you a present,” I tell her cheerfully, not taking my eyes off him until Nora has him cuffed and sitting up, back against the bumper of my car.

“No gift wrap? No bow? Can I exchange him?” She asks, levering him up to his feet.

Daryl’s compliant now. Good boy.

I can hear the sirens now through the rain.

“How about a gift certificate instead? Good for one hot bath, champagne and chocolates?” I shoot back, the adrenaline is still riding through my body. I holster my weapon and help turn Daryl over so he’s face down on the hood.

Hmmm…I think a car detailing is in order tomorrow. I don’t approve of faceprints on my car.

Nora leans back against the hood, and I do the same, both of us waiting for the unis to get here so we can get Daryl back to the precinct.

Turning her head up to the sky, Nora lets the rain wash her hair back.

“I don’t know… more water? I think I’m already soaked enough,” Nora objects, distractedly.

Neither of us are really thinking about what we’re saying, we’re just chatting, coming down from the adrenaline rush and the feeling of being alive and well.

“Oh honey, don’t say that. A long, hot soak is just what the doctor ordered after this.” I sigh as two marked police cars pull up, lights flashing.

I pull off my badge from my belt, Nora doing the same, showing them so the officers will see them before they even fully stop.

“Too bad we’re just going to have to settle for a two minute shower in the locker room and a set of dry clothes,” Nora replies and sticks her badge back on her belt.

I stand up straight and do the same, and mourn the dream, “Oh well, perhaps another time?”

“Rain checks are good.” She starts searching Daryl’s pockets.

“God, do you have to say rain?” I groan back.

Part 19

Call me sadistic, but I like conducting interrogations.

It’s somewhat like going to the movies.

You plan ahead first. What do you want to watch? What theater do you want to see it at? Who do you want to take?

Then after you’ve decided and bought your tickets you have to decide what kind of refreshments you want. Soda? Sugar Babies or Raisinets? How about popcorn?

Then it’s seating. In the back? Front? To the side? By other people? Middle of the row? End?

After that is decided, you wait. Arguably the only boring part of the entire experience, the waiting. Even the ads going by get a bit dull after the first run through.

And then the lights dim, but you’re not to the main event yet, you’re at the build up, the hook to draw you back next time.

Finally, it’s showtime. The action. The comedy. The drama. Either the movie ends predictably or with a surprise plot twist.

End of the show.

Interrogations aren’t much different. There are a total of seven basic plots, be it a book, movie or an interrogation.

The only difference between an interrogation and the movie are the details and I don’t get to have Jujubes while talking to suspects.

When we got back to the station, Nikki headed to the locker room while I set up Interrogation Room 1 and had Daryl brought in to wait for us. My partner was out by the time I got to take a turn at a quick hot shower and change of clothes.

He’d been waiting on us this entire time and a few more minutes wouldn’t make much difference in the long run, because the movie had already started. It started when Nikki and I put him in the back of the patrol car and searched his car right there and then, so he could see us. After that, he was taken to the precinct to wait on us, all the while he knew we were searching his house.

When Nikki and I finally got back to the office, he’d been waiting in holding for a good two hours and there were still cops on scene going through his house more thoroughly.

Given plenty of water to drink. Alone in an interrogation room with only his guilty thoughts to keep him company. Nervous people need something to do with their hands generally and this is why we give them water or coffee to drink.

It may seem cruel when they’re wiggling in their seats to go to the bathroom and no one answers the door when they pound to go out, but it’s all a part of the plan.

I finally join Nikki in the observation room. Dan isn’t there, but we’ve got a tech and Detective Herb Palmer is there to back us up in case my partner and I get in over our heads. Herb is a huge man and has stopped many a fight just by stepping up to the assailants. But if there was ever a man who acted the opposite of how he looked, Herb is it. Sweet as a baby, until you piss him off.

Nikki and I take our time going over the plan. This is her first interrogation as a detective. It’s a whole different ballgame now.

Daryl is sitting quietly, fidgeting in his seat. He’s already gone past the pounding on the door stage demanding the facilities. It’s time.

I turn to Nikki, “Showtime, Detective. You know what to do?”

She turns to me, winks, and changes right before my eyes. The Southern flirt that I saw bring a bartender almost to his knees with just a few words is standing right before me. I can see it in her eyes. Half-lidded, a soft full-lipped lazy smile, and a different stance to her body that just screams, I’m going to take you for a ride, Cowboy. And you’re going to like it.

Damn, I need to call Maintenance and get them to turn the heat down in here.

“I’m sure I can think of something, Detective. Never you fear,” she drawls, leaning forward just slightly, showing off her…

Jesus…

I know I’m blushing and if I didn’t know better I’d say that was a very throaty chuckle that is coming out of my partner.

“Just… go. God,” I shake my head, smiling. Daryl Stevens is a goner and she hasn’t even stepped in the room yet.

I wait for it, that moment when she comes in. I just stare at Daryl and look at his face, waiting. And sure enough, he proves again that men, no matter the background, race, creed, and probably even sexuality, are no match for a woman born and bred in the gentile South.

And she immediately shows she’s on his side by giving him the one thing he needs right now that no one else has been willing to give.

Allow him to use the restroom.

When he comes back from being escorted by a uni, he’s grateful. She is now good cop.

“So, Mr. Stevens… do you mind if I call you Daryl?” Nikki almost purrs out his name as she takes a seat across from him.

“O’ course. What ever you wish, Ma’am.”

I roll my eyes and smirk. He’s so gone.

“I’m just a little confused, I’m not sure why you’re here, Daryl,” Nikki comments, indeed looking incredibly confused and vulnerable.

“Damn, she’s good,” Herb mutters from over at the video screen.

“She sure is,” I reply, honestly in awe.

“You see, my partner thinks you may have had some… let’s just call it, dealings of a rather shady nature?” Nikki shifts in her chair, sitting sideways, resting one arm on the back of her chair and the other on the table, giving him a decent side view of her as she continues to look at him earnestly.

There is no way I could ever pull that off. Hell, I could never pull off anything she was putting out right now. This is why I make a better bad cop. Although, I wouldn’t say Nikki is a good cop right now, more like naughty cop. very naughty cop.

Mind on business, Delaney.

“Well…” Daryl shuts up.

“See, I’m just worried that you might think we’re after you because of some past indiscretion, and really we’re just looking for someone,” Nikki supplies, pouring on her charm. “My partner is a tad… how shall I put it. Uptight.”

“Got you pegged,” Herb jokes.

“No more bagels for you, ever,” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off Nikki.

A chuckle is my only answer from the Peanut Gallery.

I listen and watch Nikki work, trying to get Daryl to trust her, to let anything slip and finally when I think it’s right, I move in.

Slamming the door open, I startle both Nikki and the suspect to jumping in their chairs. I give Nikki an obvious glare, and then turn my gaze on Mr. Stevens.

I pure every bit of distaste and anger I have about this case, into my eyes. My jaw is clenching and my lips are flat and pressed tighter than Dan with money, and I keep his eyes on me in silence for a good 30 seconds.

Then I walk up to the desk, tossing a folder down, and lean forward aggressively, ignoring my partner. My eyes are only on my victim.

Who wins in a cage match between a cobra and mongoose? More than likely it’s the one without venom. I have sharp little teeth, Daryl.

“Mr. Stevens. I’ve got a deal for you. You tell me about the Duponts and I’ll make sure you don’t get the death penalty. Lethal injection may be peaceful, or so I hear, but you’re still dead. Just like the Duponts,” I pause and open the folder.

I have crime scene photos. Several of them. Big 8 1/2 x 11 inch glossy, hi-definition color photos. Digital photos can catch so much more detail than they could only a few years ago. And it’s all right there for him to see.

Mr. Dupont is first. Supine on his bed, surprised in his sleep. The red of the blood is lurid, almost not real, but you can’t get that color in movie special effects.

He’s looking at them now, unable to resist. Good.

Mrs. Dupont is next. Sprawled on the bed, the hole in her neck so huge, it looks surreal. You look at it and think something is wrong with the photo. There shouldn’t be a hole there. But there is.

Nikki speaks up now, talking soft and low. “Daryl, you see the problem here. We need your help. Where’s Simon, Daryl?”

His fingers are clasped together tightly, like he’s struggling to keep his cool, to keep calm.

So I throw out my last bit of bait. Here fishy, fishy.

The photos of Lizzy Dupont seem more real than the others, almost movie quality. She’s there, laying in on the closet floor for the photographer and camera crew as if she’s just gotten out of makeup. There’s no hole, just blood. How can there be just blood with no damage? It feel so… fake. But all one has to do is look into those glassy eyes in the photo to know that it’s real. All too real.

It’s pure fury I see in his eyes as he looks up.

“That rat bastard! He killed ma’ baby! Mah lil’ girl!” he cries out in anger.

well damn. The movie has a surprise plot twist.

Part 20

It’s dark and I’m running like a maniac through the pouring down rain. The night and the rain are obscuring my vision to almost arm’s length.

Where is she?

Damnit.

“Nora!”

My gun is drawn, but the flashlight I’m using is flickering in and out. Piece of…

“NORA!”

What has it been? Three blocks? Four? A dozen? Shit. Where are you, woman?

And then she’s right there, in front of me, with no one else in sight.

God.

She’s on the ground.

“Officer down!” I scream into my radio as I fling myself at her.

My knees hit the drenched ground, the cold water seeping through my jeans, but I couldn’t care less. I reach down towards her, almost touching her face.

Is she breathing? She doesn’t look like she’s breathing.

Oh my god!

Then my alarm wakes me up with its incessant noise. I roll over and pound on it until it shuts up, eyeing the time with distaste.

Three hours of sleep.

And not a good three hours at that.

My mind veers away from the images of the nightmare which just awakened me. It’s not the first time I’ve had one like this, since I’ve been on the force. With all the things I see day in and day out it’s amazing I sleep at all some nights.

I lay quiet for a moment, my eyes closed, my body drenched in sweat. I hate sweating unless it’s for a good reason, or person. And sweating when the weather is this humid, with the rain still pinging against the glass of my windows, seems wrong somehow.

Finally, I muster the energy to drag myself out of bed and into the shower.

Forty-five minutes later I’m out the door and driving back to work.

I pass Nora’s car as I’m looking for a spot, oddly relieved by the sight of it. The dream must have affected me more than I would have thought.

When I finally make it through the door of the precinct and into the squad room I find Nora at her desk with a visitor.

Bobby Delaney’s eyes widen in delight as he sees me. His reaction clues Nora in and she swivels in her chair to greet me.

“Hey, Partner,” she says, a smirk on her face and eyes twinkling in delight. She’s looking forward to seeing how I’m going to handle her brother.

Perhaps I should have called in sick.

Hi, Dan? My trigger finger is itching today and I want to prevent a shootout in the squad room, so I’m taking time off. Yeah, I’m going in to get a Cortisone shot for it. I should be fine in a couple of days.

“Good Morning,” I smile at her serenely. Never let them see you sweat. Unless… OK, I think I went over that earlier. No sweating unless it’s in the name of fun.

I look over to Bobby, “Officer Delaney. I’m surprised to see you here.”

“It’s Bobby. Please?” he begs, “Well, I just wanted to see if you were available for lunch today.”

I have to admit, he’s got an adorable smile. His stubbled head, smooth-cheeked face, and green eyes are a great package. But while I find him charming, I’m just not interested.

Nora’s grinning big time, the punk, her green eyes sparkling just like her younger brothers. Now those eyes… Damn. I can just imagine a whole clan of Delaneys with those eyes.

I spend a long moment just looking at her, until she breaks the contact, clearing her throat to speak.

“Actually Bobby, we’ve got a couple of arrest warrants to handle today. I doubt we’ll have time to meet you for lunch,” she pokes him in the side. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Detective Beaumont doesn’t like… lunch.”

My heart is thudding so hard in my chest, I feel like I’m about to collapse. Making my way over to my side of the desk, I drape my long jacket over the back of my chair and have a seat.

Bobby, looking rather confused at Nora’s comment, turns to glare at his sister. “Nora, you’re such a brat. Everyone eats lunch.”

I can’t help it, I have to join in on Nora’s fun. “Oh, I used to enjoy… lunch. But I gave it up for Lent and just haven’t had it since.”

A sharp bark of laughter escapes my partner.

“But Nora said you had lunch yesterday at Peter’s…” he’s interrupted by our bursts of laughter and looks even more confused for a second. Bobby’s head starts swiveling back and forth between us before he gets a clue. “Oh, I get it. Inside joke?”

Smacking her brother’s stomach with the back of her hand, Nora relents. “Yeah, Bobby. Inside joke. But really, I doubt we’ll be able to make lunch.”

“Nora likes lunch however…” I’m not willing to let it go just yet, enjoying the moment. The calm before the storm maybe? A bit of anxiety echoing over from this morning’s dream? Who knows? Maybe I just love hearing Nora laugh.

“Well yeah, I’ve seen her have lunch a few times. She’s not much of a breakfast gal though,” Bobby mentions with a small smile for me, knowing it’s a joke and that we’re not going to let him in on it, but playing along to see our reactions.

Nora isn’t laughing.

Her green eyes are looking at me, contemplating, measuring. She’s smirking at me, but she answers Bobby, “Oh, but I might enjoy breakfast, Bobby. Our tastes mature with age after all. You used to hate tomatoes as a kid, now you love them.”

I’m really glad I’m not drinking anything right now, because I’m sure I would have sprayed it over both desks at that moment.

I have no idea whether to laugh or just be stunned. Nora just doesn’t play fair.

Bobby is a godsend, thankfully changing the topic of conversation, “So, Nora… have you told her about your jinx yet?”

“Huh?” Nora is still staring intently at me, with that little grin and not really paying attention, until what he says sinks in.

“No, Bobby. No.” she says, veering her eyes from me up to her little brother.

He however, knows he’s got good ammunition on her. He moves over a bit, to stand between both desks, closer to me. “You gotta watch out for my baby sister for the rest of the week. Nora has a bit of a…”

“Bobby.” The warning is clear in Nora’s voice, but I’m more than willing to let him interject into the odd tension I’m feeling.

“Jinx?” I ask with interest as I ease back my chair and cross my legs, making myself comfortable.

“No,” Nora points a finger at me, “No egging him on!”

A very dangerous smile lifts my lips and I can tell she recognizes it as her head suddenly falls down to the top of her desk with a thud.

Bobby is enjoying the turnabout now, chuckling evilly at her then explaining. “Nora has a reputation for… trouble, when she gets a new partner.”

A mumble comes from Nora, who is keeping her face planted on the desktop. I can’t understand her comment and if her brother did he’s ignoring it.

“Trouble? Nora? I don’t believe it,” I reply, my tone decidedly saying that I do believe it. I knew it on the first day.

“It’s true! Ever since she joined the force, every partner she’s had says that Nora gets into some kind of accident the first week that they get assigned to her,” he explains. “The first time, just out of the academy, she broke her arm when she was walking down an alley.”

Another mumble comes from Nora’s direction.

“What’s that?” I ask, really wanting to hear her comments.

Not that I believe a thing Bobby is saying, or rather, I believe that other people in the department think she’s a jinx. Cops are superstitious people.

Nora looks up, a pained expression on her face, “It wasn’t my fault.”

Bobby keeps going, ticking off incidents with his fingers, “Wrecked a brand new police car. Two black eyes from perps. Blew up her computer.”

“Not my fault,” she repeats with a venomous look at her brother.

“And lets not forget when you hooked up with Dan,” Bobby continued.

Interesting way to put it, even though Nora has said she and her old partner never had anything going on between them.

“Let’s see, what was that again? Nora? Help me out here?” he asks with a shit-eating grin on his face.

If looks could kill, Nora would be short one brother right now.

“So what happened?” I ask, prompting my partner.

Her eyes look over to me, pinning me to my chair. There’s a promise of pain in my future, which just makes my smile. I love finding out new buttons to push on her.

“I…” she mumbles the rest.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” I ask again. Come on, Nora.

“I fell into the lake,” she grinds out the words.

OK, I can’t help laughing. Obviously she’s OK, but what I wouldn’t give to have seen that. Nora wet… Wait. Stop. Stop right there.

“More like she was pushed off the end of the dock, and into the lake, by a little old lady,” Bobby corrects, laughing his ass off.

“Funny boy. At least I won’t have to worry about buying you a birthday present this year, since you won’t see another year,” Nora threatens.

Me? I’m laughing free and loud right along with him.

It’s a great mental picture.

“Did she have a cane?” I get out between laughs, “Did you arrest her for being armed and dangerous?”

“Har. Har. Har.” Nora grimaces and rolls her eyes at the two of us.

“No, but she had a granny cart,” Bobby supplies, which just sets us off again.

“OK, that’s it!” she growls and stands up, grabbing her jacket. “You two aren’t allowed to be around each other ever again.”

“Vroom. Vroom. Can I see your license for that vehicle, Ma’am?” Bobby gets a last verbal dig into his sister.

Nora makes a little funny face at her brother then turns to me, “We got our warrants. I know you’re really enjoying this, but we have work to do.”

Still chuckling, I grab my coat and slip it on. “See you later, Bobby. Great story!”

“Well, you just make sure she doesn’t drive the car into the canal or something this time, huh?” he asks as he waves us off.

I join Nora in the hall and we start heading out. However, I can’t quite resist giving her one more poke.

“So, did you give her a ticket?”

Part 21

Ellie Dupont is a woman backed into a corner with nothing to lose. Backed into a corner of her kitchen with a knife out, keeping my partner and I at bay.

I am not amused.

Nora has her gun out but it’s a standoff. Ellie isn’t putting the knife down, but she’s not swinging it at us either. If she does… I don’t like to think about that; I have bad memories of the only time I had to shoot my gun at a suspect.

I’m right there with Nora, off to her side, my Glock out and trained on Ellie as well.

“Ellie… you need to put the knife down,” I say calmly, trying to catch her eye. She’s high. Her eyes are red and the pupils constricted. Her nose is runny and she doesn’t look like she’s taken a bath in days, even though we saw her the day before. Her bruises from yesterday are lurid against her pale, sweaty skin.

We’d entered the house after knocking and stating we had a warrant to search the premises. Since the door was unlocked and we had heard someone inside, we’d entered, but Ellie was not willing to cooperate.

Knowing that I had her covered, Nora holds out her right hand, imploring with the woman to surrender.

“Ellie, listen to me,” Nora pleads softly. “Put the knife down… that’s it.”

Letting the knife clatter to the kitchen floor, Ellie begins to howl, crying out her daughter’s name again and again.

I kick the knife out of the way as Nora hostlers her weapon and proceeds to cuff her.

Now that Ellie Dupont is secured, I call in to dispatch to get the house secured.

Nora searches her, slipping her long sleeves up and pointedly looking at the needle tracks Ellie has been hiding.

I read her her Miranda Rights from memory, but doubt she’s really paying attention as she continues to sob. When she starts to collapse in Nora’s arms, I help my partner move her to the living room to sit down on the sofa, then we begin to question her.

The reality that she’ll be going to jail sets in and she starts talking.

“It was Simon… I wanted to get away. Take Lizzy and just start over,” Ellie explains between sobs. “I knew where he hid the heroin, and took it… I was going to sell it and take Lizzy…”

“And?” I prompt.

“I took it and hid it at my parent’s house when I dropped Lizzy off to stay the night. I thought I had time…” she replies as she rocks back and forth on the couch. “He threatened to kill me and Lizzy. He was just so mad. I told him where it was and we went over to the house…”

She pauses and sniffles, tears and snot running down her face. “He forced open the door when I wasn’t unlocking it fast enough for him. I ran to Lizzy’s room. Simon must have heard some noise from my parents’ room… He was so angry,” she repeats in a long drawn out wail.

“Then what happened?” I ask, wanting her to say the words out loud.

“He shot them… I had brought Lizzy into the closet, thinking I could hide her, and that’s where I’d hidden the stash, in a bag. I grabbed it… And then Lizzy… right there in my arms.”

Ellie collapsed onto the couch in hysterics, inconsolable in the knowledge that she was responsible for her daughter’s death.

“Where is he?” Nora demands harshly.

“He’ll kill me,” Ellie cries then just sits there saying Lizzy’s name again and again.

Several uniformed officers arrive and Nora and I spend the next few minutes having them start the search on the property and arrest Ellie Dupont.

Several hours later we come up empty-handed except for a small amount of cut heroin sitting next to her kit, which Ellie apparently had been using just prior to our arrival.

“Call Darius,” Nora asks me as we get back into her car to go back to the station. The rest of the unis are finishing up at the scene and Ellie is back at the station, being monitored by EMTs as she sleeps it off in a jail cell.

I watch the rain still continuing to fall as I hit speed dial and wait for him to answer.

God, the rain.

The river is swollen, which is a sight to see, since the Mississippi is not a small river. It’s swelling to its banks, barely held back by numerous canals and barriers across the city. Even Lake Pontchartain is rising.

“Hey, Darlin’. What’s up?” Darius’ voice is a pleasant relief compared to the last few hours. He sounds like he’s somewhere crowded, voices chatting all around him, bleeding over into the cellphone.

“Any new word on where Simon Martins is? we’re running out of options here, Darius,” I ask, not wasting a moment. I don’t mean to be rude, and I know Darius understands.

“I’ll see what I can dig up, but no promises,” he replies. He knows how important this is and he’s doing the best he can.

“Thanks, Darius. Get back to me as soon as you can.”

“Will do.”

I hang up and sigh. “Nothing new, but he’ll ask around.”

Nora slams her hand against the hard surface of her steering wheel. “Well, we’ve got a warrant out for his arrest and put out an APB. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“No car registered to him. No known address…” I counter, not trying to be pessimistic, but just stating facts.

Nora makes a frustrated sound. “And we’ve had that address on Roberts watched. Nothing. We’ll get the warrants and then go search the house.”

Part 22

I’m looking forward to dinner tonight with Nikki. We both could use a break from the case and wind down. It’s been since dinner with the family that I’ve had a normal meal and it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other out of the squad room.

Now however, we’re driving over to a house off Royal, based on a tip from Darius. The search warrant for the house on North Roberts was a bust. No drugs. No Simon Martins or hint where he might be. Georgia and Seth were there going over the contents of the house more thoroughly. I’ll have to remember about those football tickets to show them I appreciate the time they’re giving.

“Oh come on, you don’t really believe that?” Nikki looks at me with disbelief, continuing our chat.

I shake my head, trying to keep my face straight. “Why not? Sandra Bullock made a great witch.”

“Oh I’m sure,” she replies sarcastically. “And I bet you think ’Murder by Numbers’ was a believable murder mystery?”

My lips tremble slightly, it’s getting harder not to laugh at the incredulous look on her face. “Well, maybe not ’Murder by Numbers’, that whole foot thing she did with Ben Chaplin’s character kind of grossed me out.”

Nikki laughs at that, “OK, I’ll grant you that. But I can’t believe you think ’Practical Magic’ was better than ’Hocus Pocus’!”

Finally I can’t hold it back anymore and I laugh at her. She doesn’t seem too amused at first, but finally joins in with a chuckle.

“I would totally pay to see a witch versus witch movie starring Sandra Bullock and Bette Midler,” Nikki says, then pauses, “Although, I think I change my mind… Sandra is way hotter than the Bette Midler. It wouldn’t be a fair contest.”

Nikki and I are talking about fictional witches of Hollywood with an easy familiarity usually born of months or years together.

I wonder if Lindsay Lohan could be considered a fictional witch of Hollywood?

Nikki starts up a new thread of conversation, “So, which would you kiss? Matthew McConaughey or Keanu Reeves?”

I think on it a moment, “Matthew McConaughey, in a ’A Time to Kill’.”

A hum of appreciation comes out of her, “He did make a good Southern Lawyer.”

I shrug. “Neither are really my type though.”

Turning slightly in her seat, but still keeping an eye out on traffic. I know she’s nervous letting me drive her car again, switching cars after we hit the precinct earlier, but I like that she’s trying to show her trust me in.

Nikki asks curiously. “What is your type?”

“Now that’s the 20 million dollar question,” I reply cheerlessly. “What I want, versus what my Daddy and brothers want, versus what my Mama wants me to have.”

“Well, who did you date last?”

“Mark Hannor, an EMT I met on the job,” I supply easily enough. The wounds of that relationship healed relatively quickly. “I wasn’t what he was looking for and he knew he wasn’t what I wanted. Neither of us were really happy, we only dated about a month. He said that dating a cop made him wonder if I’d be the body on the scene when he arrived.”

“That’s harsh,” she whispers across the car.

I smile at her, “It was for the best, trust me. I’ve always wanted to be a cop, but I’ve never really wanted to be just someone’s wife and mother. I know the two aren’t mutually exclusive, but…” It’s hard to explain. Hell, I don’t even understand it all myself.

“I dated through high school and college, but when I joined the force, everything changed,” I try to explain but I don’t have to, Nikki knows.

“But civilians just don’t understand,” she supplies.

I turn the question around on her, curious to what her answer will be. If it was hard finding someone acceptable to date as a cop, as a lesbian it would be even harder.

Surprisingly, Nikki laughs, “Well, it’s hard for me as well. The girl bar scene… well, lets just say that they’re confused by me. Here I am, a cop, but I’m not ’butch’. And I’ve never really associated with the people my age in society circles after I graduated from the first four years at Tulane… You’d be surprised at what those people do for fun.”

“That’s right, you said you were an Alumni,” I remember, noting that she had said “those people”.

“I stayed onto Law School, studying Criminal Law, just like Daddy had hoped I would, but I refused to take the bar. Instead I joined the police academy.”

“Damn,” I say, duly impressed. It makes sense now how she went straight from uniform to SCU. “I think I have a superiority complex now.” I tell her jokingly, a wink letting her know I’m kidding.

“Well, you should. I minored in superiority,” she quips and winks back. “It’s just a piece of paper. Hell, I’ve learned more in these few days working with you than I did during all those years of college.”

“Well, at least your Daddy knows he got his money’s worth,” I reply back. “So you don’t go to girl bars…”

“Oh I didn’t say that. It always seems rather forced to me,” Nikki corrects. “I just don’t do the whole ’pick up scene’ and it’s not like I can find a date on the job…”

“Why not?” I interrupt. “I know you have a ’no cop’ policy, which is a good thing in my opinion, but why?”

She’s silent for a few breaths and I get to thinking that I stuck my foot in my mouth again. But then she replies in a tone that definitely makes me wish I hadn’t asked, “My first partner asked me out once. He knew who my Daddy was, of course, it’s not something that I can really hide in this town. I was still high from having a badge and being in uniform, boy did I get over the love of the uniform quickly. But I wasn’t attracted to him and he spread it quickly that he had indeed ’sampled my treats’ as he put it, and it spread like fire in the squad room.”

My teeth are grinding. Sexual harassment in the workplace is a fact of life, doubly in a male dominated workforce like ours. “What did you do?”

A truly smug smile sprouts on her lips as she says, “I told his wife.”

After we laugh at that a few moments, she continues, “No, I don’t date cops. It’s just asking for trouble.” Her voice trails off and we sit like that for minutes, until we come up to the address.

* * * * *

Fifteen Minutes Later…

I never expected I’d live to a grand old age, spending my last days in a rocking chair out on the front porch, telling all my grandnieces and nephews about my thirty years on the force. Spinning tails that got wilder on each telling.

No, I never much expected to live a long life.

But I never thought go to out like this. Struggling against a torrent of water, trapped in a car, and hearing an angel’s voice screaming at me.

As everything fades to black and the cold of the Mississippi river blankets me, one last thought goes through my mind.

I guess I won’t be making dinner for Nikki.

Part 23

15 minutes earlier.

I’m still annoyed that Nora thinks Sally Owens could best Winnie Sanderson in a magic duel. Some people just have no taste in movies.

I get out of the car, putting the search warrant in an inside pocket to keep it out of the rain.

Gun. Check.

Badge. Check.

Hair. Wet.

Damn. I realize New Orleans is in the middle of its rainy season, but this is getting to be a bit much. I hate having wet, scraggly hair.

I wait for Nora to meet me on this side of the car before I start walking towards the house we’re here to search. I take one last look at my car, then nudge Nora playfully.

“Not a scratch.”

Nora nudges me back with a sharper elbow, “What? You want me to ding it for you?”

“No. No,” I forestall her with a smile. “It’s quite all right. I’m just teasing. You’re a perfect driver.”

Nora looks over at me with a look that says she knows I’m full of it.

“Damn…” she grabs at my elbow and slows us down. “Look over to your right. The backyard… is that?”

I casually look. The sun is almost an hour away from setting, but with the heavy clouds and rain, it’s making visibility really tough to get a good view of him.

Simon Martins. Or at least it could be from the description we have of him. Considering we’re a couple houses down from our targeted address, the likelihood is that it’s him. It looks like he’s going through all the backyards, away from his house, and since he’s not taking the sidewalk out front, he must know the house is being watched.

“Go behind him, I’ll try to cut him off.” Nora tells me as she pulls her Sig Sauer. Still gripping my arm with her right hand, she squeezes it for a split second.

“Be careful,” she says before moving back the way we came.

“You too,” I whisper back, hoping she hears me. Pulling my own weapon into a 2-hand grip, I move quietly between two of the houses, along the wall of the one he disappeared behind.

No fences between these houses, just bushes and trees. The rain both helps and hinders me. I can’t hear worth a damn but he can’t hear me either.

Taking a low position at the corner, I ease around and search the yard. I don’t see him.

Then I spot a flash of white through the bushes between this house and the next.

I follow the lines of the house, keeping my back to the wall, stepping over a child’s bike and around the back stairs.

I spot Nora.

I’m there kneeling next to her before I even realize I’ve moved.

“Nora?” I whisper and place a hand on her back. She’s stirring, getting her knees up underneath her.

Sliding my hand up her back, I move her hair to the side so I can see her face better.

She’s a little red in the face and breathing heavily, almost gasping for air.

“He… knocked the wind… outta me… damnit,” Nora gets the words out, “Go after… him. I’ll be right behind you.”

She’s sounding better and she has her gun still. I’ll trust her judgment on this.

“Call dispatch,” I tell her as I stand up. “Which way did he go?”

She jerks her head to the right, along the line of backyards. I disappear behind some bushes, following his trail with only the sound of the rain and her voice, as she speaks into the radio, to accompany me. Soon, even that’s gone and it’s me and Simon in the half-dark.

I’m startled out of my wits when the back door of the next house slams open, revealing a mother and child about to exit. We’re shocked to see each other, but when they notice my gun their faces change to fear.

“Police. Go back inside. Lock the door,” I tell them just loud enough for them to hear. The mother immediately obeys, pulling her child back indoors and locking up, while I continue after Simon Martins.

The end of the block is coming up and if I don’t see him, that’s going to be the end of it. Dogs won’t be able to catch his trail in the rain and…

My thoughts stall as the sound of a vehicle starts up. It’s close by and I start to run, hoping it’s him but also praying it’s not. I can’t chase a car on foot.

Running out of the last yard into the street I spot him. So close… and yet so far away as he guns it out of my reach.

Damn it.

As I’m holstering my weapon and memorizing the plates, I’m startled by the sudden roar of a very familiar car.

Nora screeches to a halt beside me and I climb in.

Grabbing the radio from her, I call in to dispatch advising units to take over the search in the area and put out an APB on the license and make of the car I believe the suspect is in.

“Buckle up!” Nora orders as she makes a hard turn, slowly gaining on the retreating vehicle.

“SCU32. All units advise, suspect is turning north onto Caffin,” I click off the talk button and buckle up.

I pull an old fashioned blue rotator police light from under my seat and plug it into the cigarette lighter. Then rolling down the window, I reach up, letting the powerful magnet clamp it tight to the roof. The strong flashing cut through the dim late afternoon light.

Finally, opening the glove box, I pulled out a small siren hooked into the car system, flipping the switch to full wail.

“Well damn. You came prepared,” Nora notes as she goes around a car that has pulled over. We’re right behind our suspect now, but he’s not slowing down. While a light and siren is a good preventative measure so that civilians don’t get hurt, it makes it easier for the perps to keep going as well.

“Hold on!” she yells as she slams on the brakes and then the gas again, turning West.

My shoulder slams into the car door as we take the corner hard. I find myself screaming into the radio, “SCU32. Suspect has just turned West onto Florida. He’s aiming for the bridge. I need a unit to block that access NOW!”

“Good call,” Nora says almost absently, her focus on the car in front of her and the civilians around her.

I unconsciously groan as we speed along and I can hear a sort of evil chuckle come out of her before she says, “Don’t worry Nikki. I’m not going to crash your car.”

A bark of laughter escapes me. I can’t believe she’s thinking about that. It was actually the furthest thing… OK, nearly the furthest thing from my mind. “I don’t care about the car!” I hiss out as we barely miss the front end bumper of a car coming southbound through an intersection.

I think I can hear other sirens now, but I can’t see a single marked car.

Then up ahead, only four to five blocks up, I spot the access to the small bridge that would take us over the canal. The flashing red and blue lights of a marked car are a welcome sight.

“They’ve got someone blocking him from the bridge,” I yell at Nora over the blaring lights.

“That’s good… damnit!” Nora cusses in frustration as our fleeing suspect turns right, taking the last street before the bridge. It’s not even a street really, turning immediately into gravel. I don’t know this area well.

“SCU32…”

I was about to give out our new position on the radio when the words are driven from my lungs as Nora takes another almost immediate left.

I realize with horror that this is NOT the way we want to go, that Simon is either lost or just plain stupid.

“Nora!”

Thick sheets of rain.

Near total darkness.

High speed vehicles.

End of the road.

All of these things mean that my warning is too late.

Simon goes off the end of the gravel dead-end street and through the barrier like it’s nothing. Braking through grass and mud is just as ineffectual as he goes off the end of the small strip of land and launches into the air.

I drop the radio and brace my arms in front of me.

“Ohhhhhhh Shiiiiii…”

It’s either Nora or I yelling. Maybe both. I know she’s pumping the brakes, trying to gain control before we end up following Simon to the end. But it’s too late. The dead-end left turn off of Harbor road is short. Too damn short. And goes straight into a shipping canal.

We’ve already passed the barricade and are skidding sideways… There’s a chance we might slow down. No. We spin around, the back-end tottering over the edge.

I look back as I hear Nora fuming, cussing, trying to get my baby moving any way but the way it looks like we’re going to end up.

The Mississippi is swollen like a fat leech. Filling the canal to nearly overflowing. I can see the tail lights of our suspect’s vehicle disappearing under the roil of water further out.

As I reach for the radio, we tip and start to fall.

The river is so swollen that what would normally be a 7-8 foot section of canal is closer to 15 feet. I don’t even want to guess how deep it is where the other car went down.

The back-end of my car hits first, then we slide in until the front of the Mustang hits the water. We’re only feet from the edge of the overhang, but it’s still underwater.

“SCU32… in the water at the dead-end off Harbor Road… Suspect in the water…” I start yelling into the radio as I try and unbuckle my seat belt.

Nora is already working on hers. The water is rushing into the car but she’s smart and has already rolled down her window.

Feet. Calves. Already underwater. It’s going faster.

“Get out, Nora!” I scream as I click off the seat belt and shrug out of my jacket. Off with the Sudini ankle boots I just got last week from Ballins. The pressure of the water on my door is making opening it almost impossible, so just as the water starts to seep over the car hood, I pull myself out through the window. As soon as my feet are through, I turn, looking at Nora fully expecting her to have gotten out by now.

She hasn’t.

“NORA!” If there’s a frantic edge to my screaming, I’m sure anyone listening would have understood. Unfortunately, we’re alone and Nora’s about to go under.

She’s stuck.

What seems like seconds later I’m frantically scrabbling over the only part of the car even visible above water, the roof.

“DAMNIT, NORA!” I scream and thrust myself underwater where I know her window is.

My hand brushes hers in the water, floating up through the open window. Reaching up only an inch away from fresh air.

I grab her arm, pulling myself along her body, reaching through the window and down to her waist. She’s utterly limp now, but I can’t think about that… will not think about that… Damn you, Nora!

I can’t see a thing. The Mississippi is dark water on a good sunny day, right now it’s pitch black at twilight.

How long have I been under? All I can feel is the car finally settling on the soft bottom, Nora’s limp body swaying against my head and arms and that damn seat belt.

Then, finally the clasp gives. I yank Nora up out of the seat and through the window with my lungs almost bursting from the need for air.

I’ve only been four, maybe five feet, from the surface, but I wasn’t going to fill my lungs until Nora was out.

Dragging Nora’s limp body over the settled car, I catch my breath as I continue my way to the shore.

So close.

Finally.

I pull her up on… well, not dry land, but at least it’s not underwater.

“Nora?”

I press against her diaphragm pushing out water.

“Damn you Delaney! Get your ass back here!” I scream at her, pushing more and more dark water out of her lungs.

“You are not a damn jinx! Do you hear me!” My heart is pounding as I yell at her. I search for a pulse.

Suddenly, Nora coughs violently, spasming and turning over onto her side to spew out more water and take in air.

I collapse forward, my forearms on the ground and my forehead resting on the wet earth as I begin trembling with reaction to all the adrenaline in my body.

Damn. That was way too close, I decide. Daddy? Can I go home now? The other kids aren’t playing nice and I want a nice hot bath. Please?

I force myself back up and reach out to Nora, patting her a bit forcefully on the back since I don’t know what else to do. It’s a few moments before she’s got her breath. Pulling herself up into a sitting position she rests her arms on her knees and looks at me. Sirens are close. I can see the police lights cutting through the dark above us.

Damn, she looks horrible. But oddly good wet. Sweet Jesus what a time to have such a thought.

She’s pale and looks like hell, but she’s alive.

Her green eyes are just staring at me, thanking me, but she also seems a tad annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to me to warm her up. Leaning my head against hers, I can feel her trembling, whether from the cold or from reaction, I can’t guess.

Probably both, since I’m shaking as well. Water is running down my face and I’m not altogether sure that’s it’s only the fresh water of the Mississippi.

“You need to get that damn seat belt fixed, Nikki,” she croaks out.

A bark of laughter escapes me, I can’t help it. She obviously doesn’t see the irony, but I’m more than happy to point it out to her.

“Sugah, my seat belt isn’t the only thing that needs fixing in my car now.”

Nora leans her head back from mine, looking at me eye-to-eye and says almost cheerfully, “This means we get to take my car around now, doesn’t it?”

I smile at her. She’s going to be all right. She’s going to be all right. I let the mantra go through my head a few times before I let out a big, shaky breath. “Well sure, but if you think you’re driving, you’re sadly mistaken. And if you think this little mishap is going to get you out of dinner tonight…”

Damn she looks cute when she’s outraged.

Part 24

I hate nurses.

I hate needles.

I hate doctors.

I hate hospitals.

And not necessarily in that order.

I’m bored and aggravated.

I let yet another deep breath out for the ER doctor who’s attending me. “Are you happy now?” I ask him. OK, I’m snippy. But come on. I have things to do. I’m alive.

“No. I’m not happy, thank you for asking,” he mutters behind me. “Breathe.”

I am breathing. Can’t you tell?

“Nora. Behave,” my partner says, looking as concerned now as she did when she pulled me out of the drink.

Letting out a little sigh first, to show that I am not fully caving to either of them, I give him what he wants, a big, deep breath so he can check my lungs.

“Well, you sound only slightly congested, but considering you were that close to drowning, it could be worse. The x-rays of your chest and ribs came back clean as well,” the young doctor looks smug, like he pulled off my good health all on his own.

“So, I’m fine,” I announce. “I’m going home.”

“I don’t suggest…”

It’s Nikki who interrupts, “She can rest at home, right? No head injury. Just bruising from the steering wheel and bruised lungs from the… near drowning.”

I look at her closely as she says the final words. Nikki isn’t looking at me right then, but speaking directly to the doctor. Pure cop face.

Her eyes are what’s bothering me. Haunted is the only word I can think of to describe them.

It’s been a little over an hour since our swim in one of the canals just off of Old Man River and our arrival at St. Claude Medical Center.

“Yes. As long as someone stays with her to watch over her,” the doctor acquiesces. “Sign this… and this… and yes, that… OK… you’re obviously familiar with the forms… sign… yes… yes…”

It finally ends and I’m free to leave.

YAY!

I jump off the table and grab the clear plastic bag holding my wet clothes. Nikki has my more valuable effects. Gun and badge included.

“Let’s go!” I start walking through the curtain around the exam area, but my partner pulls me back in.

“You might want to get dressed first,” Nikki points out with an amused smirk on her face.

OK, maybe waltzing out with my rear compartment out for all to see would be bad.

Nikki has already changed out of her soaked clothes, having commandeered scrubs for both of us. Unfortunately, while I would have loved to have worn them, the hospital staff required me to put this drafty thing on.

“I knew that,” I try to keep a straight face. “I was going to change…”

“Just get dressed Nora, before everyone gets here,” Nikki says sliding the curtain back to let the doctor out.

When she made to follow him, I stopped her, “Stay.”

She freezes for a second, then lets the curtain drop and turns to me. “Hmm? Not going to change? If Dan arrives before we get you out of here…” Nikki leers suggestively. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy the sight.”

Rolling my eyes I get the scrub bottoms on without a problem. It’s when I have to reach behind and untie the ties to the gown that I run into a small issue.

“I need help,” begging silently with my eyes for her not to argue, then turn back around.

It’s a long few seconds before I feel her warm fingers brush against my skin and untie the two ties.

“I thought you said you were fine?” Her voice is low, close, and very concerned.

A shiver travels through my entire body. Damn hospitals never keep it warm enough in here.

I pull off the gown, my back still to Nikki and then move my arms through the scrub top. Unfortunately, I can’t reach my arms up high enough to finish the job.

“Nikki. Please. My ribs are sore. Not broken. You heard the doctor. Please, just help me get home? I’ll be fine in a couple of days. He gave me painkillers, anti-inflammatory, and antibiotics. I’ll be able to open my own pharmacy, if I want to retire from the force,” I try to jest. I’m standing here with my hands sticking out of this damn shirt but I can’t lift it over my head.

“Please, just help me get this damn thing on?” I look at her over my shoulder. The anxiety for me is radiating from her in waves. “Please? I promise I would stay if it was anything important.”

Her arms reach over my shoulder and gently help me raise my arms up just enough to get my head in. She helps finish dressing me and then reaches into my bag for my shoes.

Coming around in front of me, she kneels down and helps me slip them on, untied. Just enough to keep my feet from ripping up on the pavement. They’re still wet and nasty, but I’m glad I didn’t wear nicer shoes today. Fortunately I had worn a pair of tennis shoes that I could throw out without a shred of guilt.

I look down and notice Nikki’s wearing a pair of hospital slippers.

“Nice shoes. Sax?” I tease her as she gives me a pat on the leg and stands up.

Nikki reaches out a hand and brushes my bangs out of my face.

“Come on, Trouble, lets get you home. I’ll call a cab,” she ushers me out of the exam room and right into…

“Hi, Daddy. Mama,” I gulp. “Everyone.”

The next thirty minutes are insane. Even my sister-in-laws are dutifully concerned. Hell, they even brought flowers. And then there’s Dan.

We move everyone out to a private waiting room while Dan and my parents proceed to grill the poor doctor who looked at us both. The only constant is Nikki, who meets and greets everyone with a smile. She’s all charm that one. I think I’ll keep her.

With Nikki assuring everyone that the incident isn’t as bad as it sounds, that the doctor is releasing me… OK, not willingly, but still releasing me… they finally calm down enough to let me escape.

“OK. I’ll take you home, Nora,” Bobby offers, but Nikki interrupts.

“Take us both, please? Someone has to stay with her. And we both have to rest at least a day,” Nikki asks, looking at me.

OK, if I don’t let her stay over, she’s going to press the ribs issue. If I don’t let her stay over, I might have to put up with Mom, heaven forbid Bobby… No way in hell I’d let Dan stay over.

Hmmm…

Nikki versus Everyone Else.

I think I’ll take Nikki Beaumont for a thousand, Alex. Far less stress. I don’t even hesitate with the answer, even though she’s only been my partner on the force for a few days.

Dan gives us two days off to recuperate. The paperwork can wait since they have to pull the cars out of the canal and drag the river. The only thing he’d tell us about that was that our suspect wasn’t in the car, but the heroin was.

It’s another half hour before Bobby pulls up in front of my house. I’ve spent the time in the backseat with Nikki, leaning over, resting my eyes. It’s not even late, but I’m tired. Thankfully, the painkillers are working wonders.

On the eight day God made painkillers and it was good.

“Wow. You have…”

Blinking from the weird thoughts my mind was wandering off to, I look up at my house and smile at Nikki’s profile.

“I keep telling Nora that she shouldn’t have bought it. In this state? It’ll float away one day, mark my words,” Bobby says as he gets out, opening the back door for me.

“I like it. It won’t float away,” I argue. “It’s perfect.”

Climbing out gingerly, I ignore Bobby’s eye on me. He can tell I’m sore, but we’re cops. I’ve seen him still on duty after being kicked in the thigh by Sheila, his horse.

Nikki is already out of the car and waiting for me at the trunk, taking my hospital bag of clothes before I can even reach for them after Bobby unlocks it. She’s fast, doesn’t even let Bobby get take it for her.

We walk down the long gangplank that leads to the houseboat off at the end of it. Nikki hands me my keys and seconds later we’re inside and I’m sinking down into the huge sectional couch in my living room and kicking off my ruined shoes.

The view from the couch is straight across from the huge sliding glass door.

All I can see is water, the reflection of myself on the couch, and more water.

Water. Rising above my head. My breath knocked out of me by the steering wheel. No air in my lungs. No air…

A warm hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes gently.

Nikki leans close from behind me and whispers. “It’s OK. You’re alive. You’re OK.”

I shudder in reaction and try to pull it together. My brother is still here after all. He’s good at keeping my secrets, but this is something I don’t even want him knowing. I don’t need him to see me break down.

“Hey Bobby?” Nikki speaks before I get a chance to. “Can I borrow your phone? Ours are toast. I need to make a few calls.”

I can see her in the reflection, but not her face. She’s switched hands on my shoulder so she can talk to him, keeping a connection with me, to calm me. Reassure me.

I listen to her on the phone as she calls her Daddy. Dan hadn’t called her emergency contact, since the officers on scene had only called me in as being carried away by ambulance. He’s concerned, I can tell by her reactions, but he seems reassured by her explanations.

Darius however is another matter. After only a minute of talking to Darius, my partner hands me the phone with a soft look. “He wants to talk to you.”

Raising my eyebrows in surprise I take the phone gingerly, half expecting him to already be screaming at me.

“Hello?” I clear my throat and greet him. “Darius?”

“Nora! Thank god, you’re OK. I couldn’t get a hold of either of you…”

“Umm… our phones got a little wet,” I say, chagrined.

“A little wet?! Girl, you almost drowned!”

Yep, there was yelling.

“It’s OK, Darius. Nikki’s fine. Honest. She only went for a little dip,” I try to reassure him.

“Girl, I know that. I was worried for you too. After I gave you that information… I thought… when I heard the news… Jesus. I almost got you killed,” Darius says the last hoarsely.

“Shhh. It’s OK. You got us what we needed. Thank you. And we’re fine. We’re both fine. Really,” I say as I smile up at Nikki. She’s still got that soft, vulnerable look on her face. She’s not the only one about to break down apparently.

“Hey, Nikki wants to talk to you? How about you come over for lunch tomorrow? I have some red snapper I was going to grill tonight but…” I let it trail off, the explanation is obvious.

“Heh. OK. But you take care of yourself, you hear. I mean it!” he demands just before I hand the phone back to Nikki.

“Yeah? OK. Do me a favor though? I need some clothes… OK. No, tomorrow is fine, I’m sure Nora has something I can wear tonight. I’m staying at her place to keep an eye out on her. Bobby says she goes all Looney Tunes when she takes painkillers,” she winks at me.

“What? I do not!” I mock-protest, knowing she’s trying to lighten the mood. Bobby is chuckling in the background, trying not to listen in on the conversation. I realize that he might think Nikki and this Darius have something going on and I almost laugh at his facial expression. Awwww…

Nikki finishes her calls and hands the phone back to my brother.

“Hey Bobby, have someone bring over my car tomorrow? You have that extra set, right?” I ask him, not trying to be obvious, but I want him gone. I’m fading again.

“No problem, Nora. I’ll have it brought over in the afternoon,” he answers, taking a moment to step closer to me and placing his hand on my unoccupied shoulder. Nikki hasn’t let go yet. I’m not entirely sure if this is just for my own benefit now.

“Take care of yourself, lil sis,” he leans down and kisses me on the cheek, then ruffles my hair.

Like my hair needs more chaos added to it after the day I’ve had.

“Big sis,” I correct him.

“You’re littler than I am,” he smugly replies before turning to Nikki. “Take care of my sister… and yourself. Night Ladies.”

“Good night, Bobby,” Nikki says as she releases my shoulder and follows him to the door.

“G’night, Bobby,” my words reach him just as he exits. He ducks back in for a second to wink at me, then he’s gone. Nikki locks the door after him.

“You didn’t have to stay, you know,” I slide over and lay down on the couch. I can’t bear to look out the glass doors, so I lay on my back.

“It’s OK. I don’t mind,” Nikki assures me as she comes to my side of the couch, blocking the doors from my sight.

“You should take a shower,” she advises. “All that nasty water.”

Her eyes are such a deep brown.

I remember thinking they remind me of Belgian chocolates, the really expensive kind that you buy small amounts of so you eat them slowly. Savoring each nibble as it melts on your tongue.

When was that? Oh yeah, only days ago. When she walked into the squad room for the first time.

I never even notice when I fall asleep.

Part 25

The cool breeze is what wakes me up from my nap.

“Nora?”

I look around the small living room of her boat house and spot the sliding glass doors open. I also spot the bag with all of her wet clothes thrown about haphazardly.

“Nora?”

OK, nothing to worry about, Beaumont. She got a couple hours of sleep and woke up, so she must be around here somewhere. Check the obvious places first.

Throwing back the afghan I had tucked around me not too long after Nora had passed out and I had taken up a watchful eye over her, I unfurl myself from the recliner and head outside.

I can see her out in the dark, the low glow of the one light from inside just barely touching her.

Nora’s standing there, arms bracing herself against the railing, just staring out into the dark. With the water less than a foot away.

Reaching out hesitantly, I slide my fingers over her left shoulder, hoping I don’t startle her. I’d really rather not have to do another water rescue tonight.

She’s so still, that she doesn’t even react to me. It’s… disconcerting.

“Nora?” Too loud to be a whisper, my voice cuts through the night. It’s so quiet out here. No traffic. No birds. Just the slap of water against the pontoons and logs under us.

Turning her head she looks at me… my heart just hurts at the look. She seems so lost.

“Hey,” Nora greets me, her voice hoarse.

I slide my arm along her shoulders and stand next to her, giving her a companionable one-armed hug. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips in response.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask her, seriously wondering at her state of mind.

“I can’t find my…” she clears her throat and ducks her head in embarrassment.

“What? What can’t you find?”

“My medallion,” she whispers softly.

Oh. I hadn’t even noticed when they’d removed everything from her at the hospital. Going back over those hectic few minutes in my head, I cataloged everything that I’d been given. All of her clothes had gone into the plastic bag and they’d given me the wallet out of her jeans, her keys, her badge, and her gun.

There hadn’t been anything else. Damn.

“It wasn’t with you when they took everything off to examine you. I’m sorry.” All I can do is apologize for her losing a precious item like her Saint Michael’s. Not precious as in monetary value, but in personal worth. Her father had given it to her, along with her car, when she’d entered the academy. Sort of a family tradition.

And now it was gone.

I let a sigh escape and suggest, “Maybe we’ll find it in the car?”

She looks back up at me, the light from inside hitting her eyes just right. So green. So sad. Weary.

“Maybe,” is all she offers back.

“What else? Nora? What else is bothering you?” There’s something off about her and I think I know what it is. It was there just before she crashed on the couch. Fear.

“It’s nothing,” Nora turns and looks out in to the dark again. The rain finally stopped sometime while we were at the hospital.

I reach out to hold onto the railing, with my free hand resting near hers. Her fingers are clenched tight against the wood. Bone white tight.

“Nora?” I can’t help the small sound of fear for her in my voice.

“It’s the water…” She takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, then lets it noisily escape. A cleansing breath.

“Nora,” I wince, unable to stop the tide of guilt I’ve been holding back all evening from washing over me. “God, that stupid seat belt. I… almost got you killed because I couldn’t take the time to…”

She turns to me, face to face. “No,” she interrupts me. The fear in her is gone, at least momentarily. “No. You saved me, Nikki. A stupid seat belt didn’t almost get me killed. Simon Martins did.”

I blink at her. “Nora…” I want to argue with her. Plead with her. It is my fault. I almost got my partner killed. This woman I’ve only known a few days, but who I’ve gotten so close to that she chose me to look over her instead of her family. Of course, I might have done the same if I had a big family like that. Nora’s a solitary soul. A bit like me, no matter how outgoing I may seem.

“No.” Her eyes are firm on mine. Insistent. She doesn’t blame me, even though I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life. “I’m just a little jittery from the accident. All that water,” she continues. “I love living out here, but all I can think is ’what if’ now.”

Nora visibly shudders and I rub her shoulder to warm her. It’s never really helped me, but it’s something we humans do. Maybe to make it feel like we’re trying to help. Warm them, even though it’s not cold and it’s not the temperature making them shiver.

We spend a few long silent moments enjoying the quiet and the dark. And each other’s company.

Finally, I decide to take a chance and ease the tension.

*sniff*

*sniff*

I poke my nose towards Nora’s hair and sniff again.

Ugh. Let it not be said that Nikki Beaumont doesn’t sacrifice herself in the name of friendship.

Nora jerks her head back to look at me oddly.

“What?”

*sniff*

“Nora?” I sniff again and make a godawful face so she can see it.

“What??”

“You smell like week-old dead crawfish,” I deadpan and try not to laugh outright at the look of horror on her face. “Perhaps you’d be willing to take that shower now? And point me to the towels so I can take one too?”

Her eyes get as big as saucers at the thought of something. Of course, I do have a sneaking suspicion what that something is, since I intentionally put it there.

Part 26

A shower sounds fantastic.

And the thoughts that Nikki’s flirting words have put into my head… The thought of a double shower sounds…

OK. I’ll admit that my mind is frozen, stuck on a series of hot erotic images that include my partner. I’m being honest with myself. Maybe it’s my near-death experience? But…

I clear my throat and move unsteadily back inside, Nikki’s hand slipping away. I instantly miss it and am confused by missing it. I shouldn’t be. I understand that people aren’t always one way or another. They’re usually a mix of grey. Not completely straight, or completely gay.

I sure can’t say that I’m attracted to all men. Not by far. Hell, not by a long shot.

But women? If I’m honest with myself, growing up in New Orleans and spending several years in California has taught me that yes, I have been attracted to women.

But…

I head to the small linen closet next to my bathroom and get out two sets of towels and washcloths.

I can feel her behind me. Watching me. It’s both comforting and… God. Since that first day when she walked into the squad room with her amazing presence, I’ve been drawn to her.

Add to that her being the perfect partner so far. There’s no excuse not to appreciate her professionalism.

On top of that, our easy friendship that went straight from the shallow end of the pool to the deep end in less than a day. We’ve shared even more since then.

The pressures of the job. The adrenaline moments. The long periods when there’s nothing to do but talk. And share. So easily we share.

I think over every excuse I might have for what’s going on in my head… and my body.

Painkillers? Please, I took half of the recommended dosage and it worked itself out of my system while I slept.

Again, the near-death experience? The car chase, the shared brush with death fueling a need to feel alive? Well, while I can’t say that I’ve drowned while Dan was my partner, the old lady notwithstanding, but I’ve never felt anything like this with him after some of the things we’ve been through over the years.

Just physical?

Now there’s an interesting question. Is it just physical? I honestly don’t know.

I step into the bedroom and grab a set of pajamas for myself and another set for Nikki. Thankfully, even though she’s a tad taller, all my pajamas are draw string and a bit long.

The black silk for her I think, as I turn to exit the bedroom. I almost stumble as I spot her in the door of the room, just watching me with an unfathomable expression. Not wearing her cop face, but she’s studying me intensely. I can feel my breath start to pick up as I just stand there under her regard.

God. She’s beautiful. She’s wearing those scrubs from the hospital still, the same kind I am. She looks a mess. But she’s beautiful. Pale, perfect skin and hair so dark and lively that I just want to run my fingers…

Damnit.

I clear my throat and start moving, handing her the pajama set I picked out for her as I brush past to set my pale blue ones on the bathroom counter.

I lean into the shower to turn it on and call out, “I know it’s inconvenient, but could you help…”

“Sure,” her voice is low, soft. Somehow more intense than I’ve ever heard before.

I struggle not to jump as I close the shower curtain, letting everything warm up before I get in. I didn’t hear her follow me in here and look over my shoulder at her.

Shrugging a little, she explains, “I figured your ribs…” she leaves it at that.

She’s right. I’ll need help getting the damn thing removed since the painkillers have worn off. I’m more sore now than I was in the hospital, but I don’t want to take the drugs, detesting being muddle-headed.

“You could join me. Be environmentally conscious and save water,” I give her a teasing smile over my shoulder as I turn the shower on. I know she won’t take it seriously, but I half-wish she would.

OK. What was that? And why is my heart thumping like a snare drum?

Nikki’s big brown eyes widen in surprise. She looks like she’s trying to come up with something appropriately funny to come back with, but can’t think of anything. Unfortunately, I seem to have surprised her.

I step back from the tub, with my back to her and start to pull up the blue scrub top. Just as I predicted, I get stuck halfway up as my bruises and my ribs protest.

She hesitates and I’m thrown back to the hospital as I asked her to help me undress then.

What am I doing?

I’m shivering and it’s not cold. It’s Nikki. God.

I can feel her step closer, the heat between us ramps up. She reaches on either side of me, fingers barely brushing over my skin as she helps me get the top off. Letting it drop to the ground, I grab a towel, wrapping it around me before I turn around to meet her eyes.

I never realized I could be this powerfully attracted to another human being. I’m not a virgin by any means, but I can’t remember feeling this overwhelmed. By a man or a woman.

NO. Not just a woman. Nikki.

Damn.

The silence grows between us, heavy and as thick as the steam coming from the shower.

I can see something in her eyes, matching mine. It scares me almost as much as my own feelings do.

Nikki smiles at me softly and reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear.

“Nora. Trust me…” she stops for a moment and tilts her head up to the ceiling, then back down to gaze into my eyes. “There is nothing I want right now but to kiss you, join you in the shower, and then drag you to bed to spend the next two days making love with you. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you. I’m not dead and you’re the most gorgeous thing on two legs. Yes, I flirt with just about everything that walks, as you mentioned yesterday, and I do love flirting with you. But there’s no way… I can’t… We can’t…” her words trail off.

I’ve been punched in the gut so many times I’ve lost count. But this, this is by far the most painful.

“Wha…what did you say?” I get the words out, barely, hoping that I misheard.

Please God, let me have misheard.

Or not misheard. Hell. I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore.

She steps forward and I find myself backed up against the bathroom wall.

When did I back up? I don’t… it doesn’t matter.

Her hands reach up and press against the wall on either side of my head, keeping her body tantalizingly close and yet still too far from mine. I can see her arms trembling as she tries to keep herself from pressing against me.

“I said that we can’t do this. It’s…we’re partners. Cops. The job is just too important…” her words trail off, but her hot breath is still washing over my face as she pants softly, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Then she’s gone, closing the door behind her and I’m alone in the bathroom.

Alone.

For the best, right?

Right.

Cops.

Partners.

Damn it all to hell.

I spend a very long time in the shower, pulling myself together. Nikki and I are professionals. No problem.

What am I doing?

What do I want to do? Well duh, I think I made that pretty ob…

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear a door slam. Concerned, I turn off the shower and call out, “Nikki?”

No answer?

“Nikki?” I call again, a bit louder as I get out of the tub and wrap a towel around me. Poking my head out of the bathroom, I scan the room looking for her, but I don’t see her.

“Nikki?”

Searching the house doesn’t take long. It’s empty, and so is the deck.

It’s as I’m coming in from outside that I spot the folded note on top of the phone.

Nora.

My heart clenches painfully.

Oh damn.

Reaching out, I ignore my fingers trembling and pick it up. It’s short. It’s heartbreaking.

Nora -

I’m sorry.

Nikki

The End of

Here Comes Trouble

To be Continued in

“Trouble comes in Twos”