A Saint and A Sinner Ch. 15-16

Chapter 15

She took a deep breath to calm herself before grabbing her briefcase and getting out of her little Neon. She slammed the door a trifle too hard and took another deep breath.

Last night had been the worst. She had come home, thinking that she would work herself into a coma. It hadn't worked that way. She should be exhausted. Normally would be exhausted. But her brain wouldn't turn off. Bodies and Nick, the case, the way he had felt against her body, in her body. She finally had slammed the file shut and shoved a dining room chair so hard it had almost gone out the window.

She had stormed into her bedroom, a room she had been avoiding since she got home. She hadn't even changed clothes yet. He was there, a ghost with a sexy smell that had infused her sheets with his presence. She viciously tore them off the bed and dumped them into her laundry hamper. If she still had a job tomorrow, she would take them to the coin laundries and wash them with a good dose of her favorite laundry softener to get rid of his smell.

She tore the pillowcase off the pillow he had used, refusing to let her hands linger on it. The pillow went on the floor. She wouldn't use it tonight, she couldn't. Then she noticed her hands were shaking and sat on the floor, fighting tears.

Why? She worked so hard, had kept a sterling reputation all through the academy, had dated no one. The occasional beer or study date was all she would do and she had gotten the reputation as an ice queen. A reputation which had made the guys all the more persistent.

She'd known what would be going through the office when she started working with Nick. He was too good looking, too prominent in the department for nothing to be said. Cops were some of the worst when it came to departmental gossip. They were good at ferreting out the facts even if those facts were based on nothing more than rumor. She shouldn't have been surprised when things had gotten said, when the hints and sly looks had started her way.

She hadn't even been surprised when some of the guys had started hitting on her, thinking that she was giving it away to get ahead. She'd laughed it off, joked it off, and secretly fumed that she couldn't be given the same consideration as the other guys because of her gender.

Finally, wiping her face of the tears she hadn't realized she'd shed, she got up and remade her bed. She tore off her clothes and pulled on a big tee shirt. Then climbed in bed. She tossed and turned, finally getting up way too early for work. She hadn't slept more than an hour and that had been full of dreams, dreams where she had run from a monster that haunted her with a gleaming dagger. Dreams about running from him and into Nick's arms.

He had held her, caressed her until she was naked and needful, her body writhing against his as she begged him to take her. Then he had simply turned her around and she was in front of a room full of uniformed cops, all men. All laughing at the picture she made and calling her names like slut and whore. She woke feeling restless, ashamed, cranky and mean tempered.

Her toast had burned, her instant coffee too strong. She hadn't been satisfied with any of her clothing choices, being overly critical because of what was being gossiped about her.

Her car hadn't wanted to start this morning and she had broken a nail trying to get the hood latch undone. When it had finally started, she realized that she had forgotten to get gas yesterday and it was on empty. She didn't have time to stop on the way to work, and because it was a Friday, she knew gas prices would be higher before she could get to the gas station.

She wanted to sit down and cry. But, because she was tough, she got out of her car at the department, turned to slam the door and brushed against the mud that had caked her car from the dirt roads she'd driven on to get to the body dump yesterday.

She swiped at the mud on the back of her pants and then gave up. She walked into the station, past the main desk where one of the sergeants on duty pissed her off by leering at her. She slammed past him and into the room designated for the Detectives. There were two desks sitting there, facing each other, each had another chair bolted down next to it. Both desks were empty, but that didn't surprise her. She was over an hour early for the meeting.

She by passed the desks and headed for Nick's office. She had phone calls she needed to make, details to round up. Busy work, her brain screamed. But she ignored it.

She opened the door a crack and peaked in, not wanting to see him this early. If he was in, she would go down the hall and sneak into one of the other offices, maybe even the conference room where they were holding the meeting this morning. One of the tasks that had been assigned to her was to find a place where they could set up shop.

Someplace close enough by to be readily available, but not quite so easy for the press to find.

The story was getting more notice in the papers, she had seen news vans parked at many of the hotels in town. Hopefully they would have this whole case rounded up before it could go national. But it would be a fantastic mark in her jacket if she could have her first real case she was a part of be a serial killer that they caught and sent to prison. It would go along way to building her reputation.

He wasn't in his office, she closed the door behind her. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic. This room was smaller than some of the jail cells she had seen. She sat behind his desk, catching his scent from the jacket that was on the back of his chair.

Had that been there last night? She couldn't remember. Oh, well, if he was here, he could kick her out. She'd made it pretty clear that the only relationship that they were going to have was a work relationship. It was as if it was a sign, they slept together and everyone found out. Well, not found out but had an idea. She knew a real relationship wouldn't last. There would be way too many roadblocks for that. Not least of all that one of them would have to quit working here if they became a couple. Oh, and the fact that the man didn't believe in serious commitment. What had she been thinking yesterday?

That was just it, she hadn't been thinking. She hadn't wanted to think while they were sitting in the park soaking up the sun. She'd wanted to be a regular girl in the park with a regular guy. And there wasn't anything regular about this situation. She heaved a big sigh, and reached for the phone to call her father. He had a small warehouse in town, not too far from here. If it wasn't being used, maybe he would be willing to let her rent it for a few weeks.

"Big sigh. You okay, Chelle?"

He was standing in the doorway, two cups of coffee in his hands. He had seen her come in, had watched her kick at her car and then try and wipe the mud off of her pants. He had seen the mood she was in. It matched his. He hadn't been able to go home last night. The house was too empty and not even the idea of pounding nails, picturing the Sheriff's piggy little face had persuaded him. He had sat in Sheri Meridian's apartment, listening to the traffic on the interstate a mile away. Wondering if she had sat like that, if she liked to have noise or if she enjoyed the quiet evenings. Wondering what had convinced her to go with the man who had caused her death. Wondering if she had even seen it coming.

He wondered if she had a boyfriend, a lover. He wondered if she liked chicken, or if she ate junk food. He wanted to feel her, to understand her.

But the apartment was empty, cold. Any personal belongings of interest had been taken into evidence. The rooms were coated with finger print dust, covered in regular dust. The air was stale, ripe with the smell of rotting food and spoiled milk. Even opening a window hadn't done anything but blow the smell around. So after an hour, he got up and left.

He drove around thinking, finding himself at the dump scenes. The yellow crime scene tape was getting ragged, blown by the wind. The houses were dark, windows black holes. He felt nothing there either.

He pointed his car in the direction of home, even though he really didn't want to go there. He needed sleep, a shower and food, not necessarily in that order. What he wanted most was to go see Michelle. Without conscience thought, he headed towards her apartment.

He sat outside in the dark looking up at the lights that were on in her window, wondering if she was thinking of him. He wished he had the nerve to go up there but he knew she didn't want to see him. He couldn't understand this need he felt to see her, to be with her. It wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before. She was so unique. She made him feel special when he was around her.

He sounded like a teenage boy with a crush. Disgusted, he started the car and pulled away, refusing to look back even though he wanted to.

He finally went home, not pulling into his driveway until almost midnight. He carried in his briefcase and a bag of junk food he probably wouldn't eat. His mind was foggy, he was that tired. He dropped everything next to the door, shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it where it dropped and collapsed on his sofa, asleep before his head hit the cushion.

He woke up a few hours later, stiff from sleeping on the too short couch, his neck muscles screaming because of the way his head had been cricked when he'd slept. He took as hot a shower as he could stand, letting the heavy stream of water punish the muscles in his back. He put his hands against the wall, letting the water beat down on his head.

He left the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his lean waist. He walked through the house, picking up the junk food and throwing the stale cheeseburger and fries away. He searched around in his refrigerator, grabbed an apple and spread some of the paper work on his table.

It was way too early to go in to work. But he couldn't work at home. She was a ghost in the background, teasing him about his neatness, chiding him about his sloppy work area. She laughed at him and with him. He could almost smell her here. He gave up and got dressed.

He'd been in his office for two hours before he'd gone out to get a cup of coffee and had watched her walk in. When he had heard that sigh, he thought his heart would break. She looked defeated. His Chelle didn't look defeated, she always looked determined and capable of taking on the world. He had done this to her. And he didn't know what to do to make it better.

He watched her work up a smile that he knew she didn't feel.

"Of course. Everything's fine. I was just going to call about renting a small warehouse I know of. We could use it for an office for the task force if it sounds okay to you?" Why did this feel so hard? So wrong? He sat down her cup of coffee in front of her, watching her pick it up and sip at it.

"Where is it?"

"Down on Industrial row. Not too far from here." She took another sip, a way to keep something between them. "I know the owner."

"Great," he sat in the chair across from her. Sipped his own coffee. "Can we find out a price before the meeting?"

"Give me a second and I'll call."

She didn't want him in the room while she made the call but she could tell he wasn't going to leave. She dialed her parents number, knowing that her father would be fixing coffee right now and her mother would be slicing fruit for breakfast before they both left for their respective jobs.

Her mom picked up the phone on the first ring. She smiled at the sound of her voice, reminding her that she hadn't called home since this whole thing started. She missed her family.

"Hey Mo." Her mother wasn't the best typist in the world so when her and her brother had gotten her a home computer for Christmas, she always was making typos in their emails. "Mo" had come from one of those typos and had stuck, a personal joke between the two of them.

"Baby." She could hear the joy in her mom's voice. She needed to call home more. "You're up early, sweetie. I thought they were working you nights."

"Uh," oops, she hadn't told them yet. "Yeah, Mo. I'm working something else right now. I'm actually at work right now so I can't talk long. Is it possible for me to talk to dad?"

"Sure, sweetie. You need to come home for dinner one night, soon. We miss you." She heard the phone being passed to her father, a gruff no nonsense kind of man who melted all over when it came to his family.

"Hey Sugar. What's up?"

"Hey Daddy." No matter how old she got, he would always be daddy. "I need to ask something."

"Whacha need toots? None of them County boys giving you any trouble, are they?"

She smiled, she couldn't help herself.

"No, I'm fine. I needed to talk to you about that warehouse you have on Industrial. You have it rented yet?" She knew that Nick was watching her, that his ears were tuned into her conversation even though he could only hear one end. It was kind of embarrassing.

"Nope, was thinking of using it to warehouse some of your mom's fall stock. It's starting to come in and she went a little overboard. Why? You need it?"

"Yeah." She would have to explain her involvement in the case in general terms and then go and see them when she could to explain further. "I'm working on the farmhouse murders. We need someplace to house the task force. I figured that I could get a good price from you..." she let the question hang.

"Not a problem. Stop by and pick up the keys." She could hear the pride in his voice from knowing that his daughter was involved in doing something important. He was a cop from the top of his gray, balding head to the tips of his big crooked toes. Having his children take after him thrilled him no end.

"What about rent?"

"You guys catch the bastard that's hurting them girls. That's all the rent I need." She heard her mother say something to him. "Oh and Mom wants you home sometime this weekend. Just dinner or something if you have the time, baby. Remember we love you."

"I love you too, daddy."

She hung up the phone grinning. Her parents always made her feel better. They loved each other so much, they still held hands at the table after almost thirty-five years of marriage. There was no doubting the love in their eyes. And they extended that love to their kids.

"They sound pretty great," Nick said. "They live around here?"

"Grand Blanc. Daddy's been with the city PD out there for thirty years. Mom has a flower store." She smiled, the first real smile he had seen on her face since they had left the Sheriff's office yesterday. "Daddy's letting us use his warehouse as long as we need. I can run out and pick up the key later today. Rent free."

"That's fantastic, Chelle. They sound great." He smiled too but it didn't reach his eyes.

They talked the case another half an hour, by mutual agreement, not speaking of anything personal or the problems that were like boulders between them. The Meridians would be coming in today to be interviewed. Nick wanted her there for the interview. And even through all the talk of bodies, witnesses and evidence, it was there, the feelings they had for each other, waiting just in the back ground.

Then they piled everything in two boxes, all the photos of the three victims, reports, statements, notes. They hauled it down to the conference room. They spent the last of that time arranging everything to Nick's satisfaction until cops started trailing in.

There were two detectives from Imlay City, both of whom Nick had met before. Brandon Austen was a big man, tall and round. Someone had once said he was a hound dog, sniffing out criminals, and had the ears to prove it.

Carter Weizak was tall and thin, tall enough to play pro basketball easily enough. But graceless enough to not even be able to dribble a ball. He had big feet and he stumbled on them often. But he was capable and steady, and had been a detective for quite a number of years.

Lapeer City PD had sent a couple of their guys also. Not detectives, uniformed officers taken out of uniform for this case. Chip Drydeski looked uncomfortable out of uniform. He was wearing a suit that looked like it hadn't been out of the closet in at least fifteen years. His tie was too wide, and the sleeves on the jacket were a couple of inches too short. He kept trying to pull them down.

Michelle was glad to see the last officer come in. Stephanie Sidler had been at one of the crime scenes, directing traffic. She had only been with the force for a couple of years but she was smart and direct and not afraid to get in your face if she had to. She also had a mind like a steel trap and a dead aim with her weapon. She was very athletic and rode a Harley in the summer months.

Jimmy Benitti strolled in right before eight. He walked over to Michelle and elbowed her, nodding at Stephanie.

"You ain't the only female anymore, Chelle."

She elbowed back. "Yeah, but Jimmy, I bet if you tried to cop a feel with her like you do me, she'd knock your ass into the next room."

He gave her a dirty look and sauntered away, grabbing a cup of the coffee that the ever vigilant Louise had set up in a corner table. Nick was over talking to her, and she heard Louise laugh at something he had said.

It was a couple of minutes past eight when Mayor Brandleberg and the Sheriff waltzed in followed by a man Nick had never met before. The Mayor and the Sheriff were fawning over the man, which gave Nick a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wandered over to where Michelle was standing.

"You ever see that guy before?" he whispered to her, nodding at the dark haired stranger.

"No." She gave him the once over. "But with that suit, silk tie and that haircut, you can almost smell fed can't you." She ignored the small thrill she felt when Nick scowled at her. "Think the Mayor went over the Sheriff's head and called in the FBI?"

Nick shrugged, trying to loosen the tension that he was telling himself wasn't jealousy. Just because she looked a guy over and seemed to enjoy it doesn't mean she was interested, he told himself. "I guess I should go and find out," he whispered to her, keeping his sudden dislike of the man to himself. He straightened his own tie, and then yanked at it a little in disgust with himself for caring before stalking over to where the three were standing.

He shook hands with the Mayor and Sheriff, smiling a polite but insincere smile. His ears picked up when he was introduced to the man in the dark suit.

"Nick, this is Special Agent Roger Knight. He's an FBI profiler on loan from Quantico." The Sheriff paused, waiting to see if Nick was suitably impressed.

"Special Agent Knight," Nick said as he shook his hand. The man had an honest hand shake. He also had that tired, world weary look of a man who saw too much, and never had time for sleep.

"I've seen the profile you worked up, Detective. I was impressed." He looked over the tall, well-built detective, sizing him up. "You ever get tired of working for the county, and want a job that pays a lot less with worse hours we could use more FBI agents who have your knowledge."

Nick didn't want to like this guy. He was a fed. He was polished and urbane, with just enough gray at the temples of his dark hair to make it appealing to women.

"From what I've heard, you guys are turning them away by the hundreds. Quantico must be pretty filled up."

"Yeah, well budget cuts hit all over. Everybody pays their dues even when they don't have dues they can afford to pay."

Nick turned to the Sheriff. "If you're ready, we could get this started."

"Uh, no. Actually, we are waiting for a couple more." The Sheriff's mean, little eyes wouldn't meet Nick's.

"Who?"

"The city attorney and a couple of his aids are coming in. They called and asked to be included in this so that when it comes time to prosecute..." Mayor Brandleberg started to say. He was interrupted by the Sheriff.