Know That I 4/?
Title: Know That I
Disclaimer: Not my characters - except for one or two. The rest of the ladies and gentleman contained herein belong to entities with a higher pay grade. Thanks for allowing li’l ole me to play; I promise to return them as I found them…just like the tools I borrowed from dad when I was a kid. Also, this is unbeta’d so…mistakes are really all me. Sorry about that.
Fandom: Women’s Murder Club - TV show only.
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy for now.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An old college friend of Cindy’s moves to town and shakes things up.
Ch. 4 - These Draining Seconds
Shuffling in behind Jacoby, Lindsay plopped down into the first free table that they found. Their hand held unit was set to the side. She positioned it next to the napkin dispenser and set the volume to an acceptable level for the quiet atmosphere of the Hai Ky Mi Gia. It was a favored lunch spot for the duo and it was surprisingly empty for the mid-week afternoon.
“You want the usual?” Jacoby asked, standing in front of his chair, arms akimbo and looking expectantly at his partner.
“No, get me the bahn loc,” Lindsay answered and plucked her phone from the side pocket of her blazer.
Jacoby eyed her, taking in all of the things Lindsay currently wasn’t saying. Shaking his head, he turned slightly and called to Mr. Phan, “The bahn loc and I’ll take the usual, Mike.”
“Mi Vit Tim?” Mike Phan clarified from behind the counter.
“You’re a life saver, my friend,” Jacoby thanked him and turned back around. Pulling out his chair, he sat and tugged at his grey, corduroy sports coat, adjusting it so it fell easy across his back and shoulders. With his head slightly cocked, he queried, “So, why are you staring at your phone like it just told you you have cancer?”
Lindsay’s head shot up, narrowed eyes and scrunched brow firmly in place. Jacoby would have rolled his eyes if he thought it might not get him hit…or shot.
Some days it was a toss-up with Lindsay Boxer.
“I’m not,” the inspector groused just a little. “I was expecting a message from Cindy, but…” She held her phone up and shook it. “Either it’s broke or she hasn’t messaged me.”
“Ah, I see.” Jacoby leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, it’s probably not a bad thing. The scene this morning was…”
“Weird?” Lindsay supplies.
“Definitely weird. What did Claire have to say about it?” he wondered.
“Not a lot. We’re crossing our fingers for an I.D. and praying that something will come across on CODIS.” Lindsay tossed her phone on the table and sat back, running a hand through thick unruly locks.
“When we get back, we can start in on missing persons. She say if the body was male or female? Age? Race?” the darker man pressed. He was expecting very little, but narrowing down the search if it was an adult they could start with the roughly forty-eight-thousand active missing person cases in the U.S., but if it was a kid that number ballooned to eight-hundred-thousand.
“Female, early twenties from the partial hip recovered and Claire thinks Caucasian, but she told me not to set that one in stone. She’s got a call out to a friend at UCSF that works in the anthropology department,” Lindsay filled in.
“You know what else was weird?” her partner asked.
Her eyebrow arced. “That a rhetorical question?”
Jacoby shrugged. “Maybe. Who was the dog and pretty black girl with Cindy?” he finally asked. It had been eating him all day if he was honest. Cindy knew better than to bring anyone to a crime scene, especially if she wanted access to the details before anyone made any form of official statement.
That working rule had been in place well over a year and a half. Cindy toed the line with many things, only occasionally crossing them, but her showing up with another body was out of character and Warren Jacoby wanted answers. The unidentified girl was, after all, glaring at his partner. If someone was trying to cause trouble, he wanted to know. He wanted to know and he wanted to stop it before it really began.
“That,” Lindsay snipped, and then shifted to an obnoxiously high pitched voice, “was MacKenzie St. Hill. Cindy’s B.F.F. from her sorority.”
“I’ve never seen her before,” Jacoby tried for casual.
“She just moved here from New York. They’re reconnecting and being all girly and annoying and irritating.” Lindsay’s fingers drummed across the top of the Formica table. “Just swoops in, bats some eye lashes and suddenly, Cindy’s falling over herself to spend time with the woman.”
“Ah,” Jacoby nodded. He wasn’t left with much else.
“I mean can you believe that? She just shows up to my crime scene with her in tow? With her dog? Cindy doesn’t bring Martha to crime scenes. Martha stays home when there’s a murder.” The brunette slid down in her seat a little more. Her long legs reaching to tap the front legs of Jacoby’s chair.
“So she was shooting daggers at you because…?” he wondered, curious as to the history. When Lindsay finally told him about her and Cindy, he smiled and patted her shoulder. What else was he going to do? His partner was happy again. She was also much easier to work with. If things were going to upset that balance, he needed to know. He needed to invest in more antacids and put a little more away for the alcohol he would have to by his partner if her relationship with the redhead fell apart.
“Because she can?” Lindsay ventured. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the looks she was getting. “Does it matter?”
Jacoby’s mouth opened to answer when the hand held crackled to life. “Dispatch requesting a ten-forty-nine to Seventeen-forty-nine Leavenworth. Ten-fifty-four.”
The pair exchanged a look. “That’s right around the corner,” Jacoby responded.
Lindsay snatched the handset up before he could and confirmed their location and response. They stood in tandem. Jacoby offering an apologetic smile to Mike. “Sorry, Mike.”
The man waved him off and said, “You two come back, I keep it warm for you.”
Nodding, Jacoby followed his partner out the door and up the half block to Leavenworth. A cruiser was already out in front of a seven story building. One patrolman was guarding the entrance to the building while another cruiser pulled up and sectioned off a space for the corners van that should be arriving.
“Sixth floor, unit eighteen,” the uni guarding the door directed with a flash of their badges. “There’s no elevator, so have fun.”
Two groans were dispelled as they entered the building and looked up at the stairs. “This sucks,” Lindsay groaned as they started their climb.
“Agreed,” Jacoby huffed a third of the way up. “Isn’t this a code violation?”
“Nope,” Lindsay puffed as they passed the fourth floor landing. “I think if there’s a fire escape accessible and emergency exits, it’s fine.”
“Then who in the hell would agree to this torture every day?” the other inspector wondered as they took the last flight of steps two at a time.
“Masochists and health nuts,” Lindsay answered as she held the door to the sixth floor hallway open.
They headed right and found the door to unit eighteen cracked open. Knocking, Lindsay called out, “S.F.P.D. Hello?”
Her call was met with silence. Settling her hand over her gun, she unsnapped the strap that went across the back of her service weapon and toed the door open. “Hello?” she tried again. The door swung open, revealing a tiny dingy studio apartment. The living room was directly in front of them. The kitchenette off to the right and a body was slumped over the couch.
She snapped the strap back in place and entered the apartment. “Take a look around,” she directed her partner. She watched him disappear around a corner towards the bathroom before striding over to the couch to take in the scene.
The kid, probably no more than twenty was slumped back against the cushions. His left arm was extended, the crook of it, various shades of red, purple and blue. A needle protruded from an exposed abscess. The body was bloated and discolored. Lindsay couldn’t really gauge how long he’d been like that, but she’d guess anywhere from twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
“What do you have?” Jacoby asked coming up behind her.
“O.D. from the looks of it,” she answered, pointing to the bent spoon, melted candle and needle.
The grunt from Jacoby was acknowledgement enough. It was going to be that kind of week.
Pressing the button to activate the speaker on her desk phone, Claire listened to the ringing while she closed her office door. Her team was still processing evidence and she knew they would be here for another four hours, at least.
On top of the dumpster case and the O.D., Claire was back logged on paperwork, evidence processing for a dozen or so pending cases and she had trial prep on three cases slated for next week. She winced when her husband picked up the phone, “Hello?”
“Hi,” she greeted a little timid.
“Claire, are you on your way home?” Ed asked. Claire could hear a TV playing faintly in the background.
“Uh, not really,” she grimaced. “There were some bodies that came in today and I want to get some of the processing out of the way. I just wanted to call and let you know that I won’t be home until after dinner.”
She settled into her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose, waiting for the resentment to come pouring from her husband. On one hand she understood. She understood his anger and his frustration, because if the roles were reversed, she’s not sure just how much patience she’d be able to muster.
On the other hand, he knew what he signed up for when they got married. They discussed her job and his job at length. The hours were long, grueling and he promised that it didn’t matter.
Lately, it seemed her husband’s forgotten that.
“Guess the fact that I ordered pizza was a good thing,” his voice was clipped as it carried from the speaker. “What time will you be gracing us with your presence?”
Her jaw tensed, clamping her teeth together.
“The boys got their homework done. Open house is tomorrow night,” his tone softened. “Can you make that?”
Sighing, she tried to explain, “Ed, I’m sorry. There’s just so much to get done here and we’re getting behind. I have cases headed to trial I need to prep for. Linds has two open cases that just came in today. The techs are trying to catch up with processing but we have a dozen cases and a half dozen consults that need to get out before the end of the week.”
“Hmm,” he hummed. “I just think it’d be nice if the boys saw their mom before Saturday. Provided she’ll be home.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” she promised.
“How about a compromise?” Ed ventured.
Claire’s eyebrow arced. She could work with a compromise if it meant not getting the silent treatment or a cold shoulder the rest of the week. “I’m all ears.”
“Finish up two reports and 4 cases that need processing. The bodies will be there for you tomorrow and if the trials for your pendings don’t start until next week, then I’ll take the boys somewhere Saturday and give you a full eight hours to prep with Jill?”
She didn’t need to think twice about that deal. “Sold.”
“Good, because that’s all you were getting from me.” She heard the phone pull away from his ear and the kids asking about their bed time. Pleased with the response Ed gave, she finally relaxed a little, her shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch. “So, you’ll slink into bed sometime before twelve?”
“Yes,” Claire agreed. “Ed, I…”
“Don’t Claire,” Ed’s voice dropped to just above a whisper, no doubt trying to keep their sons from overhearing the tone of his voice and his words. “This conversation is far from over, but I’m tired of arguing about it. I’m tired of it all.”
Her mouth opened to apologize, or try to at least, but the phone line went dead before she could form the words. The doctor ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
Lindsay loved her apartment. She loved the location. She loved her neighbors. Going home didn’t happen as consistently as she would have liked, it depended on what case she was working and if Cindy wanted to sleep in her own bed instead of Lindsay’s. More often than not, Cindy would stay over and keep Martha company, but as of late, Cindy’s appearance at her place had been spotty at best.
It’s why when Lindsay opened her front door and heard the clanging around in the kitchen and saw Cindy’s purse and jacket tossed on the recliner that she was surprised. No contact from the reporter all day had left her a little worried, but not concerned enough to go around to her girlfriend’s apartment. The shock of coming home to find Cindy here was pleasant.
Unexpected, but something the inspector could work with.
“Linds?” Cindy called out as her head poked around the corner.
A small grin spread over Lindsay’s lips as she shut the apartment door and patted Martha on the head in greeting. “Hi,” she rasped and cleared her throat. “Uhm…”
“We need to talk and I was hungry,” Cindy didn’t give the other woman time to finish the question.
Lindsay watched amused as Cindy’s head disappeared into the kitchen again and the unmistakable scrape of a pan over a burner was heard. Taking the bait, Lindsay removed her coat and hung it on the back of the closet door then shuffled into the kitchen to ask, “What do we need to talk about?”
“Uhm,” Cindy spun around to face her, bottom lip clamped between her teeth and frying pan in hand, “I don’t know. Maybe we could start with this morning?” Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, I think I’d like to start with this morning and not to pick a fight or anything but, really, Lindsay, what the hell?”
The inspector’s eyebrows rose and disappeared under a section of hair that drooped across her forehead. “What about this morning?” She put her hands on her hips and waited. If Cindy wanted to do this, well…Lindsay had a few choice words for her girlfriend as well. “Do you want to tell me what you were thinking bringing her to a crime scene? Maybe you could tell me why you were with her and not at work to begin with?”
Cindy split the omelet in the pan in half and dumped the pieces on to the two plates she had set out. The potatoes were already sitting there, waiting to be eaten. She grabbed two forks and motioned for Lindsay to sit down at the kitchen table. Taking the seat next to the brunette, Cindy picked her fork up and speared a potato, working through Lindsay’s questions to decipher her lover’s true intent.
It was a thing with Lindsay. One that Cindy had learned the hard way to navigate. It was never about the obvious with Lindsay. In some ways, in regards to work, the inspector was too direct, cutting to the heart of the matter with a few simple well placed words and a look.
When it came to the personal stuff, the things Lindsay liked to hide from everyone, that she liked to protect and safe guard, it was about what wasn’t said. Personally, Lindsay communicated between the lines.
Sometimes it drove the reporter up a wall.
Sighing, she chewed the potato thoughtfully and swallowed before deciding on an answer. “I spent the night at Mac’s helping her unpack and we were out for a walk when the call came over the scanner. If you had given me a minute to explain, I would have this morning.”
“You spent the night?” Lindsay choked out.
“I did. I brought her dinner and we unpacked the last little bit of stuff she had,” Cindy further explained, not seeing the issue. She was at a friend’s. Safe, sound, not running around and talking to the city’s undesirables so that she could give her girlfriend premature tachycardia.
Lindsay’s eyes narrowed over the rim of her glass of water. Drawing in a breath, she set the glass down and studied her girlfriend. Was it really that big of a deal? Mac was Cindy’s friend after all. She trusted her. It’s just…”I wish you would have given me a heads up.”
“There wasn’t really time, Linds. Really.” Cindy set her fork down and reached for Lindsay’s hand. She wove their fingers together and rested them on top of the table. “The attitude this morning though, really uncalled for.”
Lindsay’s jaw worked itself open, then closed, deciding to not apologize for her behavior. If that’s what Cindy was fishing for, well, it wasn’t coming from the inspector. Instead, she used her free hand to pick up her fork and go back to the dinner cooked for her.
“How was your day?” Cindy finally asked when she realized Lindsay wasn’t going to say anything more on the topic.
“Fine, we caught an O.D. later in the day and I helped Claire in the morgue. You?” Lindsay answered around a mouthful of mushroom, egg and cheese.
“Hung out with Mac most of the day, turned in a few articles.” She left out the bike ride on purpose. No reason to tell her something that would start another round of twenty questions and unsaid accusations.
“Hmm,” Lindsay hummed, giving Cindy’s hand a squeeze. Despite her annoyance, it was still nice to come home and find Cindy there. It’s something that she’s been asking for a month now. “Cindy?”
“Yeah?” the reporter looked up.
“It was nice to come home and see you.” That was about as much of an acknowledgement Cindy was going to get about her absence the last two days.
Knowing where this was going, Cindy withdrew her hand from Lindsay’s and rested it in her lap. “Lindsay,” she warned.
The inspector tried to make light, wiggling her eyebrows a little for effect and silliness. “Would it be that bad?”
Cindy closed her eyes and emptied her lungs. She waited a beat before drawing in a deep breath and answered, “Honestly, no, it wouldn’t, but Lindsay, it’s too soon…”
“We’ve been together over a year…”
“I know,” Cindy cut her off. “I know we have and I know we’ve talked about it, but…it’s too soon.” It’s been brought up, the idea of them living together, at least once a week since Lindsay asked her to move in with her right after the New Year. She wanted it, but she didn’t want to lose Lindsay either. She also knew that if they rushed this, if they pressed each other, it would happen, it may take a while, but someone would spook and run.
Trying to stay up beat, Cindy tried, “Slow and steady, Lindsay. Please?”
The inspector swallowed down her instantaneous retort and just nodded not sure what else to really say about the umpteenth rejection from her girlfriend.
Next>>>
Disclaimer: Not my characters - except for one or two. The rest of the ladies and gentleman contained herein belong to entities with a higher pay grade. Thanks for allowing li’l ole me to play; I promise to return them as I found them…just like the tools I borrowed from dad when I was a kid. Also, this is unbeta’d so…mistakes are really all me. Sorry about that.
Fandom: Women’s Murder Club - TV show only.
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy for now.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: An old college friend of Cindy’s moves to town and shakes things up.
Ch. 4 - These Draining Seconds
Shuffling in behind Jacoby, Lindsay plopped down into the first free table that they found. Their hand held unit was set to the side. She positioned it next to the napkin dispenser and set the volume to an acceptable level for the quiet atmosphere of the Hai Ky Mi Gia. It was a favored lunch spot for the duo and it was surprisingly empty for the mid-week afternoon.
“You want the usual?” Jacoby asked, standing in front of his chair, arms akimbo and looking expectantly at his partner.
“No, get me the bahn loc,” Lindsay answered and plucked her phone from the side pocket of her blazer.
Jacoby eyed her, taking in all of the things Lindsay currently wasn’t saying. Shaking his head, he turned slightly and called to Mr. Phan, “The bahn loc and I’ll take the usual, Mike.”
“Mi Vit Tim?” Mike Phan clarified from behind the counter.
“You’re a life saver, my friend,” Jacoby thanked him and turned back around. Pulling out his chair, he sat and tugged at his grey, corduroy sports coat, adjusting it so it fell easy across his back and shoulders. With his head slightly cocked, he queried, “So, why are you staring at your phone like it just told you you have cancer?”
Lindsay’s head shot up, narrowed eyes and scrunched brow firmly in place. Jacoby would have rolled his eyes if he thought it might not get him hit…or shot.
Some days it was a toss-up with Lindsay Boxer.
“I’m not,” the inspector groused just a little. “I was expecting a message from Cindy, but…” She held her phone up and shook it. “Either it’s broke or she hasn’t messaged me.”
“Ah, I see.” Jacoby leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, it’s probably not a bad thing. The scene this morning was…”
“Weird?” Lindsay supplies.
“Definitely weird. What did Claire have to say about it?” he wondered.
“Not a lot. We’re crossing our fingers for an I.D. and praying that something will come across on CODIS.” Lindsay tossed her phone on the table and sat back, running a hand through thick unruly locks.
“When we get back, we can start in on missing persons. She say if the body was male or female? Age? Race?” the darker man pressed. He was expecting very little, but narrowing down the search if it was an adult they could start with the roughly forty-eight-thousand active missing person cases in the U.S., but if it was a kid that number ballooned to eight-hundred-thousand.
“Female, early twenties from the partial hip recovered and Claire thinks Caucasian, but she told me not to set that one in stone. She’s got a call out to a friend at UCSF that works in the anthropology department,” Lindsay filled in.
“You know what else was weird?” her partner asked.
Her eyebrow arced. “That a rhetorical question?”
Jacoby shrugged. “Maybe. Who was the dog and pretty black girl with Cindy?” he finally asked. It had been eating him all day if he was honest. Cindy knew better than to bring anyone to a crime scene, especially if she wanted access to the details before anyone made any form of official statement.
That working rule had been in place well over a year and a half. Cindy toed the line with many things, only occasionally crossing them, but her showing up with another body was out of character and Warren Jacoby wanted answers. The unidentified girl was, after all, glaring at his partner. If someone was trying to cause trouble, he wanted to know. He wanted to know and he wanted to stop it before it really began.
“That,” Lindsay snipped, and then shifted to an obnoxiously high pitched voice, “was MacKenzie St. Hill. Cindy’s B.F.F. from her sorority.”
“I’ve never seen her before,” Jacoby tried for casual.
“She just moved here from New York. They’re reconnecting and being all girly and annoying and irritating.” Lindsay’s fingers drummed across the top of the Formica table. “Just swoops in, bats some eye lashes and suddenly, Cindy’s falling over herself to spend time with the woman.”
“Ah,” Jacoby nodded. He wasn’t left with much else.
“I mean can you believe that? She just shows up to my crime scene with her in tow? With her dog? Cindy doesn’t bring Martha to crime scenes. Martha stays home when there’s a murder.” The brunette slid down in her seat a little more. Her long legs reaching to tap the front legs of Jacoby’s chair.
“So she was shooting daggers at you because…?” he wondered, curious as to the history. When Lindsay finally told him about her and Cindy, he smiled and patted her shoulder. What else was he going to do? His partner was happy again. She was also much easier to work with. If things were going to upset that balance, he needed to know. He needed to invest in more antacids and put a little more away for the alcohol he would have to by his partner if her relationship with the redhead fell apart.
“Because she can?” Lindsay ventured. She hadn’t really been paying attention to the looks she was getting. “Does it matter?”
Jacoby’s mouth opened to answer when the hand held crackled to life. “Dispatch requesting a ten-forty-nine to Seventeen-forty-nine Leavenworth. Ten-fifty-four.”
The pair exchanged a look. “That’s right around the corner,” Jacoby responded.
Lindsay snatched the handset up before he could and confirmed their location and response. They stood in tandem. Jacoby offering an apologetic smile to Mike. “Sorry, Mike.”
The man waved him off and said, “You two come back, I keep it warm for you.”
Nodding, Jacoby followed his partner out the door and up the half block to Leavenworth. A cruiser was already out in front of a seven story building. One patrolman was guarding the entrance to the building while another cruiser pulled up and sectioned off a space for the corners van that should be arriving.
“Sixth floor, unit eighteen,” the uni guarding the door directed with a flash of their badges. “There’s no elevator, so have fun.”
Two groans were dispelled as they entered the building and looked up at the stairs. “This sucks,” Lindsay groaned as they started their climb.
“Agreed,” Jacoby huffed a third of the way up. “Isn’t this a code violation?”
“Nope,” Lindsay puffed as they passed the fourth floor landing. “I think if there’s a fire escape accessible and emergency exits, it’s fine.”
“Then who in the hell would agree to this torture every day?” the other inspector wondered as they took the last flight of steps two at a time.
“Masochists and health nuts,” Lindsay answered as she held the door to the sixth floor hallway open.
They headed right and found the door to unit eighteen cracked open. Knocking, Lindsay called out, “S.F.P.D. Hello?”
Her call was met with silence. Settling her hand over her gun, she unsnapped the strap that went across the back of her service weapon and toed the door open. “Hello?” she tried again. The door swung open, revealing a tiny dingy studio apartment. The living room was directly in front of them. The kitchenette off to the right and a body was slumped over the couch.
She snapped the strap back in place and entered the apartment. “Take a look around,” she directed her partner. She watched him disappear around a corner towards the bathroom before striding over to the couch to take in the scene.
The kid, probably no more than twenty was slumped back against the cushions. His left arm was extended, the crook of it, various shades of red, purple and blue. A needle protruded from an exposed abscess. The body was bloated and discolored. Lindsay couldn’t really gauge how long he’d been like that, but she’d guess anywhere from twenty-four to forty-eight hours.
“What do you have?” Jacoby asked coming up behind her.
“O.D. from the looks of it,” she answered, pointing to the bent spoon, melted candle and needle.
The grunt from Jacoby was acknowledgement enough. It was going to be that kind of week.
Pressing the button to activate the speaker on her desk phone, Claire listened to the ringing while she closed her office door. Her team was still processing evidence and she knew they would be here for another four hours, at least.
On top of the dumpster case and the O.D., Claire was back logged on paperwork, evidence processing for a dozen or so pending cases and she had trial prep on three cases slated for next week. She winced when her husband picked up the phone, “Hello?”
“Hi,” she greeted a little timid.
“Claire, are you on your way home?” Ed asked. Claire could hear a TV playing faintly in the background.
“Uh, not really,” she grimaced. “There were some bodies that came in today and I want to get some of the processing out of the way. I just wanted to call and let you know that I won’t be home until after dinner.”
She settled into her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose, waiting for the resentment to come pouring from her husband. On one hand she understood. She understood his anger and his frustration, because if the roles were reversed, she’s not sure just how much patience she’d be able to muster.
On the other hand, he knew what he signed up for when they got married. They discussed her job and his job at length. The hours were long, grueling and he promised that it didn’t matter.
Lately, it seemed her husband’s forgotten that.
“Guess the fact that I ordered pizza was a good thing,” his voice was clipped as it carried from the speaker. “What time will you be gracing us with your presence?”
Her jaw tensed, clamping her teeth together.
“The boys got their homework done. Open house is tomorrow night,” his tone softened. “Can you make that?”
Sighing, she tried to explain, “Ed, I’m sorry. There’s just so much to get done here and we’re getting behind. I have cases headed to trial I need to prep for. Linds has two open cases that just came in today. The techs are trying to catch up with processing but we have a dozen cases and a half dozen consults that need to get out before the end of the week.”
“Hmm,” he hummed. “I just think it’d be nice if the boys saw their mom before Saturday. Provided she’ll be home.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” she promised.
“How about a compromise?” Ed ventured.
Claire’s eyebrow arced. She could work with a compromise if it meant not getting the silent treatment or a cold shoulder the rest of the week. “I’m all ears.”
“Finish up two reports and 4 cases that need processing. The bodies will be there for you tomorrow and if the trials for your pendings don’t start until next week, then I’ll take the boys somewhere Saturday and give you a full eight hours to prep with Jill?”
She didn’t need to think twice about that deal. “Sold.”
“Good, because that’s all you were getting from me.” She heard the phone pull away from his ear and the kids asking about their bed time. Pleased with the response Ed gave, she finally relaxed a little, her shoulders dropping a fraction of an inch. “So, you’ll slink into bed sometime before twelve?”
“Yes,” Claire agreed. “Ed, I…”
“Don’t Claire,” Ed’s voice dropped to just above a whisper, no doubt trying to keep their sons from overhearing the tone of his voice and his words. “This conversation is far from over, but I’m tired of arguing about it. I’m tired of it all.”
Her mouth opened to apologize, or try to at least, but the phone line went dead before she could form the words. The doctor ran a hand through her hair and sighed.
Lindsay loved her apartment. She loved the location. She loved her neighbors. Going home didn’t happen as consistently as she would have liked, it depended on what case she was working and if Cindy wanted to sleep in her own bed instead of Lindsay’s. More often than not, Cindy would stay over and keep Martha company, but as of late, Cindy’s appearance at her place had been spotty at best.
It’s why when Lindsay opened her front door and heard the clanging around in the kitchen and saw Cindy’s purse and jacket tossed on the recliner that she was surprised. No contact from the reporter all day had left her a little worried, but not concerned enough to go around to her girlfriend’s apartment. The shock of coming home to find Cindy here was pleasant.
Unexpected, but something the inspector could work with.
“Linds?” Cindy called out as her head poked around the corner.
A small grin spread over Lindsay’s lips as she shut the apartment door and patted Martha on the head in greeting. “Hi,” she rasped and cleared her throat. “Uhm…”
“We need to talk and I was hungry,” Cindy didn’t give the other woman time to finish the question.
Lindsay watched amused as Cindy’s head disappeared into the kitchen again and the unmistakable scrape of a pan over a burner was heard. Taking the bait, Lindsay removed her coat and hung it on the back of the closet door then shuffled into the kitchen to ask, “What do we need to talk about?”
“Uhm,” Cindy spun around to face her, bottom lip clamped between her teeth and frying pan in hand, “I don’t know. Maybe we could start with this morning?” Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, I think I’d like to start with this morning and not to pick a fight or anything but, really, Lindsay, what the hell?”
The inspector’s eyebrows rose and disappeared under a section of hair that drooped across her forehead. “What about this morning?” She put her hands on her hips and waited. If Cindy wanted to do this, well…Lindsay had a few choice words for her girlfriend as well. “Do you want to tell me what you were thinking bringing her to a crime scene? Maybe you could tell me why you were with her and not at work to begin with?”
Cindy split the omelet in the pan in half and dumped the pieces on to the two plates she had set out. The potatoes were already sitting there, waiting to be eaten. She grabbed two forks and motioned for Lindsay to sit down at the kitchen table. Taking the seat next to the brunette, Cindy picked her fork up and speared a potato, working through Lindsay’s questions to decipher her lover’s true intent.
It was a thing with Lindsay. One that Cindy had learned the hard way to navigate. It was never about the obvious with Lindsay. In some ways, in regards to work, the inspector was too direct, cutting to the heart of the matter with a few simple well placed words and a look.
When it came to the personal stuff, the things Lindsay liked to hide from everyone, that she liked to protect and safe guard, it was about what wasn’t said. Personally, Lindsay communicated between the lines.
Sometimes it drove the reporter up a wall.
Sighing, she chewed the potato thoughtfully and swallowed before deciding on an answer. “I spent the night at Mac’s helping her unpack and we were out for a walk when the call came over the scanner. If you had given me a minute to explain, I would have this morning.”
“You spent the night?” Lindsay choked out.
“I did. I brought her dinner and we unpacked the last little bit of stuff she had,” Cindy further explained, not seeing the issue. She was at a friend’s. Safe, sound, not running around and talking to the city’s undesirables so that she could give her girlfriend premature tachycardia.
Lindsay’s eyes narrowed over the rim of her glass of water. Drawing in a breath, she set the glass down and studied her girlfriend. Was it really that big of a deal? Mac was Cindy’s friend after all. She trusted her. It’s just…”I wish you would have given me a heads up.”
“There wasn’t really time, Linds. Really.” Cindy set her fork down and reached for Lindsay’s hand. She wove their fingers together and rested them on top of the table. “The attitude this morning though, really uncalled for.”
Lindsay’s jaw worked itself open, then closed, deciding to not apologize for her behavior. If that’s what Cindy was fishing for, well, it wasn’t coming from the inspector. Instead, she used her free hand to pick up her fork and go back to the dinner cooked for her.
“How was your day?” Cindy finally asked when she realized Lindsay wasn’t going to say anything more on the topic.
“Fine, we caught an O.D. later in the day and I helped Claire in the morgue. You?” Lindsay answered around a mouthful of mushroom, egg and cheese.
“Hung out with Mac most of the day, turned in a few articles.” She left out the bike ride on purpose. No reason to tell her something that would start another round of twenty questions and unsaid accusations.
“Hmm,” Lindsay hummed, giving Cindy’s hand a squeeze. Despite her annoyance, it was still nice to come home and find Cindy there. It’s something that she’s been asking for a month now. “Cindy?”
“Yeah?” the reporter looked up.
“It was nice to come home and see you.” That was about as much of an acknowledgement Cindy was going to get about her absence the last two days.
Knowing where this was going, Cindy withdrew her hand from Lindsay’s and rested it in her lap. “Lindsay,” she warned.
The inspector tried to make light, wiggling her eyebrows a little for effect and silliness. “Would it be that bad?”
Cindy closed her eyes and emptied her lungs. She waited a beat before drawing in a deep breath and answered, “Honestly, no, it wouldn’t, but Lindsay, it’s too soon…”
“We’ve been together over a year…”
“I know,” Cindy cut her off. “I know we have and I know we’ve talked about it, but…it’s too soon.” It’s been brought up, the idea of them living together, at least once a week since Lindsay asked her to move in with her right after the New Year. She wanted it, but she didn’t want to lose Lindsay either. She also knew that if they rushed this, if they pressed each other, it would happen, it may take a while, but someone would spook and run.
Trying to stay up beat, Cindy tried, “Slow and steady, Lindsay. Please?”
The inspector swallowed down her instantaneous retort and just nodded not sure what else to really say about the umpteenth rejection from her girlfriend.
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