| Subject: WTTS2 - 67 (warning: language, mild NC-17) |
Author:
KT
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Date Posted: 21:13:33 01/11/02 Fri
In reply to:
KT
's message, "Window to the Soul 2" on 20:43:26 01/11/02 Fri
Window to the Soul 2 - Part 67 (Warning: Language, Mild NC-17)
By KT
Copyright July 2, 2000
Detective O'Brien unlocked the door to Karen Kent's apartment, his search warrant tucked in his pocket. He wanted to get this done immediately, now that Petrosian was in custody.
Cossins trailed in behind him as his temporary partner. He had requested the assignment just to satisfy his curiosity, after having done all the research on the case. He sucked in his breath as he was assailed by the chill of the stark interior.
Patrick caught O'Brien's eye. "I see what you mean," he remarked, with a reflexive shiver, surveying the unadorned icy white walls. O'Brien nodded as they donned their latex gloves.
The place was a mess.
They moved slowly through the rooms, snapping pictures and collecting samples as they went. O'Brien picked up the remnants of plastic and newspaper from the table and sealed them in plastic bags. Cossins hadn't been privy to Karen's confession, so was merely along to witness O'Brien's activities. It was standard procedure never to conduct a search and seizure alone.
Marcus entered the bedroom. This was what he had been looking forward to. He pulled open the bottom drawer of the dresser and held his breath as he rummaged among the items of clothing toward the back of the drawer. Karen had been quite specific.
"Ahhh, so!" O'Brien sounded like a samurai warrior.
Cossins let out a nervous laugh. "Uh, Marcus, could we move it along here? This place gives me the major heebie-jeebies." He looked around as if expecting some unseen lurker to emerge from the closet.
O'Brien snorted. "You've been sitting behind a desk for way too long, my friend. You really need to get out more." He pulled an object out of the drawer, holding it up for examination, and triumphantly plopped it into a plastic bag. "Yessss." A slow smile spread over his face. "Can't wait to nail that son-of-a-bitch Petrosian."
Further probing revealed one more piece of damning evidence, and O'Brien was practically ecstatic. "Tag these, will you?" he directed Cossins. Patrick's eyes grew wide as he identified the items in the bags.
Marcus wandered through the rest of the rooms. He already had the piece of paper with Nikita and Michael's telephone numbers on it. It would be easy enough to enter that into evidence, even though he had obtained it during his previous illegal search. He was sure that Patrick wouldn't object.
O'Brien had an odd impulse to look in the freezer. "Hey, Patrick. Would you mind? I need you to see me do this." Cossins stood at his back as he pulled the door open. He let out a low whistle as they viewed the freezer's contents.
"Well, isn't that just peachy?"
Cossins snapped a picture. O'Brien shut the freezer door and pulled a roll of yellow police tape out of his pocket. He cut off a length and wrapped it around the refrigerator, passing it through the handle of the freezer door and tying it securely with a special knot.
He looked at Cossins. "I think we're finished here for the time being. I'm ordering the apartment to be sealed off until forensics can finish on site. Shall we go?"
They locked up. O'Brien decided to keep this low profile. No yellow tape outside. The less conspicuous, the better. He would inform the landlord. What was his name? Vlad Something-Or-Other... There was no reason for anyone else to be interested in entering the premises.
* * * * * * * *
Michael woke before dawn, as was his habit, and lay perfectly still.
He checked his limbs for location and found himself sprawled across Nikita's sleeping form, a leg over her two, an arm across her body, his face against her shoulder. It was just too tempting. He let his hand slide lightly across her neck, then feathered his fingertips over her breast. He barely breathed as he felt the nub begin to harden under his delicate touch. He endeavored to resist becoming aroused, but it was an exercise in futility. The power of her presence was undeniable.
Nikita stirred, a small sigh escaping her lips. Michael stopped his movement and watched as she settled back into sleep. He let his body become quiet again before he carefully extricated himself from the bed. He dressed silently, then leaned over and placed the barest of kisses on her lips. As he pulled back, he saw the corners of her mouth turn up for a split second, and his heart lifted a little.
He let himself out and headed down to the lake for a short sabbatical before going home to shower and change his clothes. Michael was greatly disturbed by Nikita's negativity, and their strained conversation. He tried to put himself in her place, to feel what she felt, but he knew it was impossible. He had offered her the comfort of his kisses, his presence through the night. He had shared with her all that he had felt during the first crucial hours at the hospital.
And still she had lashed out.
As he settled on his bench, the first rays of the sun broke over the water, and Michael felt visited by the light, as if it had a spirit life of its own. A breeze sprang up, taunting the water into burnished ripples. His eyes teared in the wind.
What if his love wasn't enough?
The question was like a lead weight pressing down on his heart. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, and allowed himself to believe the only answer possible.
It had to be. For both of them.
* * * * * * * *
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