A Saint and A Sinner Ch. 15-16

"I keep telling you, Jeff, this is a county case. I am letting you guys in on this as a matter of professional courtesy." The two men started bickering and Nick caught the fed's eye, nodding his head over his shoulder. "Let's leave them to argue this out."

Roger had been in the presence of these two men since his flight had come into Detroit a little after three this morning. He had been fought over and bowed to more than he had on a case in years. He was tired, had drank too much bad coffee this morning already and was wishing his ulcer would go on the vacation that he was going to have to cancel yet again this year. He unconscientiously rubbed his stomach as they walked over to a table heaped with files.

Nick grabbed the top one and turned and handed it to him. He opened the two inch thick ringed binder, realizing it was a murder book. In it were copies of the crime scene photos and any and all reports on each victim. Roger had seen many in the years he had been on the job. Too many actually. He leafed through it quickly, knowing that he would have to give it a more thorough going through later.

"You're the primary on this, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

Roger looked up at the distracted answer. Nick wasn't actively involved in their conversation, he was watching a cool looking blonde approach. Roger noted the glazed, puppy dog look in the tall detective's eyes as he watched her walk. Interesting.

The blonde wasn't bad at all to look at either. She had all the curves any man could want and a walk that could melt iron. And her eyes were just smoky enough to make a man wonder what fires were burning inside.

Her eyes were on Nick. Watching him in very close to the same bemused way he watched her. He sighed quietly in disappointment. She was taken and didn't even know it yet.

He cleared his throat and held out his hand to her, introducing himself. He might as well have some fun with this. "Special Agent Roger Knight, ma'am."

She shook his hand briefly. "Deputy Michelle Parsons, Special Agent. I am Detective Saint's partner on this case."

In more ways than one, Roger thought, smiling. She had a voice that could lure a man away from home. And the look in Nick's eyes were warning him to stay away in no uncertain terms.

Which meant that, of course, he had to agitate. What was the fun of being perceptive if you couldn't use it occasionally to shake people up?

"None of that special agent shit. We are all law enforcement. Call me Roger." The good old boy approach was cracking this beauty a bit. Michelle's eyes were steady, he noted. She wasn't biting. Good for her, he silently applauded.

She turned to Nick. "The troops are starting to get restless. When we staring this meeting?" She glanced around the room, noting all the faces. "Isn't everybody here?"

"The mayor decided to add a few more last minute guests to this soiree." Nick's voice only hinted at the disgust he felt over this whole set up. "The city attorney is coming in and bringing some of his flunkies."

It was as if he announced them. They entered the room, the CA speaking on his cell phone, one flunky going through a report, the other holding his briefcase. Nick had dealt with the man before. Marcus Reynold. He was competent. And annoying. His wife was sister to the governor or something like that and reportedly very rich.

He surrounded himself with the same kind of people.

Flunky A: Scott Greashaber, had a mother who allegedly had connections with higher ups in the New York mafia scene. His wife had been a model but had stopped modeling when he had proposed.

Flunky B: Alexander Maxim, had married the daughter of one of the more prestigious law firms in Lansing. He had a taste for the finer things in life and, or as gossip went, liked to date wealthy older women on the side.

Nick had worked in this business long enough to know to not make enemies with the people who would be helping you put away the scum. Even if some of them were scum themselves.

Nick went to the head of the table and waited until everyone had seated themselves. He did the introductory rounds, mostly for the benefit of the fed. And then he did an overview of the case.

"We've found each victim, naked, stabbed and dumped in an abandoned farmhouse. Primary crime scenes haven't been found as of yet. The first two found had been dumped weeks before being found, decomposition was advanced." He indicated the proper reports in the files that had been handed around. Most of the photos would be displayed when they set up in the warehouse that Chelle and gotten for them.

"The third victim was found hours after death. We conjecture that he is escalating because he wants to play games. As of this time we have no suspects. The rest of the case, reports and statements are in your files." He paused letting them check through the files. "What we need to do is get out there with the computer rendition photo of the first victim. We need an ID. When we get that, we can start comparing the victims, maybe figure out where and how he is picking them out. Right now, I have the State Forensics Lab doing a computer generalization of the third victim based upon the reconstructed skull bones. Dr. Lawrence promised me that he would put a priority on it. He said we should have something in the next day or so." He looked around the room. "I know most of you have never worked on a case of this kind. It's gonna be rough, long hours, little sleep and you might want to kiss your social life good bye for a while. We have managed to acquire use of a warehouse over on Industrial Row for use for a task force center. I think we should get that set up first and then go over the files in detail, get assignments situated and go to work."

He looked at the Sheriff to see if he had anything to add.

Williams stood up, trying to look important, Nick thought spitefully. "Thanks, Nick. We have on loan from Quantico Special Agent Roger Knight. He is a profiler with the FBI. He's going to work with us to try and come up with a profile that we can use when we find a suspect." He looked over at Agent Knight who just waved his hand. The Sheriff looked disappointed as if he at least expected him to get up and say something and, since he hadn't, wasn't quite sure how to proceed.

He quickly got his footing. "We have a killer out there to catch. Someone has been preying on little girls in our county and getting away with it. I think it's time to make sure that he has to pay for what he has done and I think this is just the team to do something about it." He sat down and Nick rose, ready to end the meeting and do something more productive than just talking about the case.

He sent them out, instructions to round up office furniture, computers and the like. They needed to set up headquarters before much else could be done. He saw Michelle standing across the room. She had watched him during the meeting, sitting next to him. He had felt her eyes on him and wondered what she thought And then he wondered why it mattered so much that she watch him, that she thought he did a good job. Why did he want her to be proud of him? He couldn't help but turn to her, and was walking across the floor when a hand touched his arm. He turned, expecting Williams, or maybe the Mayor, or even Knight. Instead it was Flunky A. What was his name? Scott something. He searched his mind even as he greeted the man. Ah, yes Scott Greashaber.

"Yes, Mr. Greashaber. What can I do to for you?" Polite and to the point. Keep it short, he had a woman to get to.

"Mr. Reynold and Sheriff Williams would appreciate it if I could be included in the case on a daily basis, Detective Saint. I don't want to push myself into an investigation, but I might be of some use if it comes down to fine legal points."

Just what he needed. A suit besides the fed. And worse, a suit that reported directly to another suit. And since he had invoked the name of his most holiness, Sheriff Williams, Nick knew it wasn't a request, even though it was very prettily worded.

He sized the man up. Hair tailored, not cut, he decided. It would never be out of place, he could probably go out, run ten miles in a heavy wind and it would still look the same. His suit was expensive, but not the type that loudly proclaimed money. He seemed steady, but standing up after a day of blood and gore was different than looking at pictures of it in a court room.

But as it was a decree, so be it.

"Well, I guess than it's welcome aboard, Mr. Greashaber. Maybe you could help in finding some extra computers somewhere. Maybe in finding some over intelligent computer geeks to set them up for us too." He nodded, having given the man his orders, even if they had seemed a request.

He turned back to the task of getting across the room to Michelle. She was talking to the fed. Damn that smooth talking special agent's hide. Michelle was laughing at him, the same way she had laughed at him yesterday. He wanted to march over there, grab her and loudly proclaim to the out-of-town suit that she wouldn't have anything to do with him because Michelle belonged to him.

What had she said to him yesterday, ah yeah. As if, Saint, as if.

* * * *

Nick had been on his way over to see her before he had been waylaid by one of the suits that she hadn't known. She wanted to talk to him. She missed him, missed the connection they had felt with each other.

Working with him was easy, it felt right. They never got in each other's way, knew when the other one needed a break before exploding all over with frustration, knew when food was in order. They seemed to almost read each other's minds. Interviews had run smoothly, one asking questions the other one might have forgotten. It was a pleasure to work with him, and watching him was a pleasure of another kind.

She had thought it was a case of hero worship turned into puppy love. But she ached inside. She missed his touch. She missed his voice. She even missed being called hot shot. Damn him for making her feel that way.

There was a hand on her arm, and she turned to look up the sleeve to the face that belonged to it.

"Agent Knight," she said politely.

"Can we try Roger?" he teased gently.

He was charming, she'd give him that. "Okay, Roger. I'm Michelle."

"You know, you shouldn't look at him like that."

She didn't pretend to misunderstand what he was saying. "You feds don't miss much do you."

"Well, you know, it's part of the oath they make us take. That and the promise that we will never, ever be allowed to work in our own offices. It saves on the budget if they can just let us believe that the desks are there." He leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "Don't tell, but I think they actually rent the space out."

Michelle laughed, deciding he might not be such a bad guy, for a fed.

"I promise to keep it under wraps. You going to help us here?" She wondered which us she meant. The us of the task force or the us of her and Nick. If Roger had such all powerful insight as he seemed to, maybe he could do both.

"Well, you're easy. Just go and tell him how you feel. Unless you'd like to go out with me and see if I can change your mind about how you think you feel." He said it as if he were just having a major epiphany.

She clucked her tongue at him, shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Roger. I'm just a small town girl. I could never hold your attention long and then where would I be. Left all alone, sobbing into my pillow, while you flew away to the next big case and the next small town deputy who's heart you could break."

They were both laughing by the time she was done.

"But seriously, Roger. Do you think you can help us? I've been on the case with Nick, I mean, Detective Saint since the beginning. We really don't have much to go on."

He hefted the massive briefcase he held, tilted his head. "Well, I've got my magic ball in here along with a dead chicken and some crystals. Let me take it back to my hotel room and I'll see what the voodoo priestess will tell me." He took a step back and laughed. "Sorry, you said seriously. I just don't get to talk to a deputy as pretty as you are all that often. Brings out my unserious side. Usually they weigh three hundred pounds and have doughnut breath." He heaved a big sigh, stood straighter. "Yes, Deputy Parsons," he said all FBI agent. "I will do my best to help in your endeavor to obtain a suspect and nail his damn balls to the wall."

Nick walked up, hearing the last part of their conversation. "I hope so, Agent Knight. I hope so. I've dealt with a few of these nuts in my career. They always make mistakes. I don't know of many who don't."

He looked at Chelle and wanted to knock the fed out of his wing tip shoes and into the next county. She was laughing, the first sparkle he had seen in her eyes since yesterday put there by an FBI agent.

"Deputy Parsons, if you'd be so kind as to go and pick up that key so that we can get the office set up, I would appreciate it." He turned away from her, catching a glimpse of the hurt in her eyes before they became cold. He felt like an ass, no worse than that. But he couldn't watch her laugh with another man, not the way he felt. He felt more than saw her stomp away.

Roger watched what happened and felt bad. He wanted to help out the pretty deputy, make her smile at least a little. Besides, she'd been fun to flirt with. He had so little time for enjoyment these days, and no time for a social life. His case load right now consisted of ten repeat robberies in different states, a serial rapist his team was covering Iowa, two separate cases in California that had him tearing his hair out, a letter bomber that had terrorized a town in Montana and now this case in Michigan. He was on his phone constantly, keeping in touch with the different agencies that he helped. He juggled details in his head, knew victims' names better than he remembered his own relatives. He couldn't remember sometimes what state he was in until he looked at license plates. But he could help here, in more ways than one. He smiled inwardly, looking forward to playing a little cupid as well as kicking a little killer ass.

"Agent Knight, the Sheriff and the Mayor have left. Did you want to go to your hotel or would you like somewhere to work here until we get set up?" Nick was all formal with the man. He wished he could knock his teeth out.

"Tell you what, Nick. Call me Roger and find me a ride to my hotel. I got to check my messages and then I'll hunker down with this file. I think I may be able to give you some broad strokes tonight. My bet is though, your profile is going to be damned close." He took Nick by the arm, steering him away from the window that overlooked the parking lot and the car that Michelle was now getting into.

"Okay, Roger." The name came out grudgingly, making Roger smile. "I'll run you up to your hotel. Here's my card, cell phone number is written on the back. Call me when you want to go through this." He hefted a copy of the murder book and then turned to glance out the window, seeing Chelle's red Neon leaving the parking lot. It pulled into traffic and he felt more alone than he had in two weeks.