Ladies' Night chapters 5, 6
Chapter 5.
Abigail Winters’ place of residence is located on Lincoln Rd. in Hawthorne. A rich dark brown craftsman style bungalow, her home was most likely built sometime around WW II. Yet looking at how well maintained it is one would be hard pressed to think that this house is almost 60 years old. A freshly painted white picket fence encircles a small yard, but its grass unlike the house looks to have given up the ghost. Yellow and dying it looks as if her yard has not seen a drop of water for several days.
Parking in front of the house both women exit the vehicle. Standing side by side, they look around for any telltale signs of life. There isn’t any. All the lights are out and the driveway is empty as well. The hair on the back of Sofia’s neck rises.
‘ This can’t be good.’’ Sofia thinks.
Catherine had called Abigail’s office and was informed that she had taken time off and was not expected back until Tuesday. The young lawyer did not say where she was going, and according to her boss it was not out of the norm. Abigail often went out of state to help the wrongly accused, but to Sofia this was the first red flag that something was amiss. Why would she, a seemingly ambitious young woman, take on another client when she has a powder keg for a case nestled right in her hand. The repercussions if she were to somehow get Tyler out on some technicality would be enormous, both for the judicial system and law enforcement.
A look of concern flutters across Sofia’s face for a brief second before she regains her composure. Reaching for her gun, she undoes the clasp that secures it in her holster. Glancing over to Catherine, the detective can see that the other woman has mimicked her movements. Wordlessly Sofia takes the lead as the two women walk cautiously up the walkway and onto the front porch. Stopping two feet away, they both notice the door is slightly ajar. Another red flag that not all is well. Pulling her Glock from its holster, Sofia turns to Catherine and mouths ‘stay here’ before turning and making her way through the front door. Behind her Catherine pulls her own gun out as she waits patiently for the young detective to complete the sweep of the house.
Five minutes pass torturously slow for Catherine and still Sofia has yet to come back out of the house. An eerie silence has befallen and Catherine she’s more than tempted to go in and make sure that Sofia is all right. She is worried about the younger woman, not only is she dealing with the stress of having Gil in the hospital, but whatever that sick bastard did to the blonde still haunts her.
Another minute passes before Sofia appears at the front door. Tight lipped the detective holds her gun in a death grip. "The house is clear," is all she says before turning around and heading back further into the house. Fully expecting Catherine to follow her Sofia does not stop until she gets into the kitchen.
Putting her gun back into holster Catherine quickly catches up with the detective. "You okay?" she asks.
Giving Catherine a weak smile of reassurance, Sofia points to the table with her chin she re-holsters her gun and waits for the other woman’s reaction.
There sitting center stage on a small mahogany table is a large padded envelope stuffed with some unknown contents. Written in large plain letters are names of - Catherine and Sofia.
"Shit," Catherine mutters. Out loud she says. "He’s been trailing us hasn’t he?"
Sofia nods at her companion. "We’re his prey. And like any good hunter he is going to patiently and methodically track our movements until he finds the perfect opportunity to strike." Pausing for a moment she allows her eyes to sweep up and down the street, imagining Tyler somewhere hidden just out of view. "You do realize Abigail is most likely dead, don’t you?"
"What makes you think that? He’s only been out of prison for two weeks. That’s hardly enough time to set up a new place of operation, never mind take a victim."
"True, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a hunting ground in every county in Nevada. When I was in Boulder City we were able to track down three separate hunting grounds from minute traces of dirt and pollen left on his victim. And he would need to practice before he comes after us. I’m afraid Abigail would be a convenient target."
"How much practice does he need?"
"I don’t know. But I would call your family and have them go somewhere safe and tell them not to go near anyone they themselves do not know personally. No matter what the person knows about them tell them not to trust them. Got it?"
"Yeah, I got it."
"Good. In the meanwhile I brought my kit as well as yours we can process the house, though I doubt we’ll find much. He never takes his victims from anywhere near their homes. He says it gives them an unfair advantage."
"Your kit?" Catherine asks. "I thought you gave up being a CSI?"
"Well technically I am a detective, but my CSI certification doesn’t end for another two years. And you never know when an extra pair of hands will be needed," Sofia replies with a shrug.
"Yeah, well I sure as hell can use all the help I can right about now." Catherine agrees.
Outside Catherine goes through her coat pockets to retrieve her camera and Maglite while Sofia opens the back and grabs both hers and Catherine’s kit.
"Do you want to process inside the house or do want to do the grounds?" Catherine asks.
"I’ll take the grounds."
Bringing Catherine’s kit into the house she places it in the living room before going back outside to start her own processing. Sighing to her self Sofia glanced at her watch - 6:30pm. There is no way that they’ll be able to process the house and the grounds and make the trip back from Hawthorne to Vegas in time for visiting hours. At this rate they will be lucky to be back before the end of graveyard shift. Which in itself is not a bad thing. She just doesn’t have the patience right now to deal with both the crew’s wanting to be helpful, and in particular Sara’s demanding attitude.
Dusk is that time between day and night when a blanket of grey falls on everything giving a washed out look to the land is quickly approaching. Soon coats and hats will be need to be donned and instead of air-conditioning, heating will need to be blasted through out the Charger.
Pulling out her flashlight, Sofia begins a slow meticulous search of the drive-way for anything that will give her concrete evidence as to where his new hunting grounds are. Sparing one last glance to the house, she hopes that Catherine will have some have some luck. They need to catch Tyler before he gets warmed up and comes after them in earnest.
More time passes bringing with it the darkness of night. Bundled in her winter coat and her arm held awkwardly in the sling, Sofia is fully dependent on her flashlight to guide her through the yard. Having been over every inch of the driveway and the yard she has nothing to show for all her efforts. Getting up from her crouching position she stretched her long lean legs. Barely managing to stifle a yawn, she goes over to the car and puts her kit away. Grabbing Catherine’s jacket she once again takes a long slow look up and down the street. The hairs on her rise as the feeling of being watched comes over her. She slams the door of the Charger shut and makes her way hurriedly back to the house. The need to make sure that Catherine is alright starts to fill her with an unexplainable urgency.
"Catherine, Catherine!" Sofia calls out from the porch right before she bursts through the door.
"I’m right here. Calm down," she replies. Meeting the younger woman in the entryway Catherine places evidence bags - one containing a toothbrush and the second containing the envelope from the kitchen table into her case and shuts it tight.
Releasing a breathe she didn’t realize she was holding, Sofia ignores the odd look that Catherine gives her. Instead she asks. "Did you find anything?"
"Not a damn thing," Catherine replied exhausted. "I’ve been over every inch of this place and there was nothing to suggest any kind of crime took place. So, either this guy is extremely OCD or like you said, this is not the primary crime scene. I took her toothbrush though, for DNA comparison."
"So, you think it’s odd that she would up and leave on another case as well?"
"Yeah, and we never did get an ID on the bodies from the liquor store. I called the lab while coming here and they said that the killer cut the tips of their fingers off. No fingerprints. We’re going to have to wait for dental records and you know what a pain that can be. I figure DNA is a hell of a lot quicker. Did you get anything?"
"No," Sofia answered as she trades Catherine’s coat for her case.
"So what’s with the panic?"
"I’m just a little on edge," she confessed feeling slightly foolish.
"Well let’s get out of here. The sooner we get back to the lab, the sooner we can get results. Are you going to be okay to drive or do you want to take a nap, and I’ll drive?"
Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Sofia hands over the keys to Catherine even though she doubts she’ll get any sleep no matter how worn out she feels. Leading the older woman out the door she pauses and watches as Catherine shuts the front door. The sound of an engine catches the women’s attention. Looking toward the sound, they both stop cold. A dark grey Taurus is parked with its engine running in front of Sofia’s Charger.
The driver’s window is down and Tyler’s face can just be made out with the help of the street lights.
Pulling out her gun Sofia makes sure that she is standing between Catherine and Tyler. Holding her gun with hands, she ignores the pulsating pain that rips through her arm, and points her gun right between his eyes. She all but dares him to try something right then and there. Only Catherine can see the grimace of pain and slight tremor passes through her body.
Tyler stares down the barrel of Sofia’s gun in defiance, he too is daring her to try something. His smirk slowly turns to a full grin that conveys nothing but amusement. Even with the gun less than 20 feet away, he is unafraid.
"Is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Tyler asks. His mid-western accent from earlier is gone and in it’s place is a rich tenor voice lacking any obvious accent.
"What do you want?" Catherine called from behind Sofia.
"I’m just checking on my girls. Making sure your doing well. Maybe I’ll get a few more souvenirs while I’m here."
"Is Abigail one of you’re souvenirs?" Sofia asked.
"I don’t know does she fit my criteria? Besides, if I told you it would ruin the game and I’m not even warmed up yet."
"This isn’t a game," Sofia retorts.
"Yes it is my dear detective and that baby your friend is carrying is the ultimate souvenir. My crowning achievement," he crowed in delight.
Upon hearing that Catherine steps out of Sofia’s shadow and raising her own gun, she too points it right between his eyes.
"I swear to God that if you come anywhere near my baby, my family, or my friends I will hunt you down and put so many bullets through your body that there won’t be enough of you to ID."
"I look forward to you trying Catherine. It’ll be fun, don’t you think?"
Rolling up his window he hits the gas petal and performed a U-turn in the middle of the street before heading off to parts unknown.
When the truck is out of sight Sofia nearly doubles over with pain. Putting her gun away quickly she holds her arm to her chest. Pain contorts her face into an ugly mask. A lone tear hangs at the corner of her eye.
Unbeknown that Sofia is in pain, the older woman makes a quick beeline to where Tyler’s truck was parked. Her gun is back in its holster and a small envelope and flashlight is out in its place. Seconds pass by before she turns to face the younger woman. "I found ....Shit!" she says as she rushes to the slumped over Sofia. "I’m so sorry I didn’t realize..."
"It’s okay, I’ll be fine," Sofia replies even though it’s obvious that she’s lying.
Catherine escorts her to their vehicle and opens the passenger side door. Helping Sofia in getting in and as comfortable as possible. Sofia sheds her coat so that the two of them make sure the stitches weren’t broken. Luckily for her they hadn’t, no blood was showing through the layers of white bandages.
"Do you want some more Advil?"
Nodding her head tiredly the detective leans back in her seat and for once allows the older woman to mother her. Handing over 3 gel caps she watches slightly put off as the young woman swallows them dry.
"Are you going to be okay? Do you want to go to the doctor?"
"No, let’s just get out here. I just need to wait for the medicine to kick in and I’ll be fine, honest," Sofia replies. "What did you find?"
"Oh, uh, some kind of gravel. It’s small but it should be just enough to run tests on.I'm hoping that where ever this came from is where his new hunting grounds are."
Nodding her head in agreement, Catherine gets into the Charger and starts the long trek back to the lab.
Chapter 6.
The trip back from Hawthorne is quiet and tense. Each woman is wrapped up in her own thoughts, anxieties and fears.
Catherine grips the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white, while keeping one eye on the road ahead and one on the rearview window for a possible tail. Her jaw clenches in a futile effort to keep her professionalism.
Sofia stares blankly out the passenger side window. Her mind is a million miles away as she tries desperately to keep a stoic expression painted on her face. The pain in her arm is now only a dull throb that is easily ignored, but the memories are not so easily forgotten. Hearing Tyler talk about the souvenirs he’s collected on his hunts reminds her, not only of how close she came to becoming a trophy, but also of the friends she lost. In the beginning there were six members of the task force by the time that Tyler was caught, there were three left.
All 45 women had been missing their eyes. Tyler carved them out, dried them, and kept them in a jar by his bed. They had reminded her of the marbles her sister used to play with as a child. She kept them in mason jars and would spend countless hours staring at the kaleidoscope of colors as the sun’s’s rays shone through them. In his night stand had been a little black book with each of the woman’s initials and day he killed them.
One hundred and fifteen entries in all.
She can still see the bodies lining the Boulder City precinct. They were on gunnies borrowed from the local hospital awaiting autopsy and identification. Their mummified corpses smelled musty and remind her of her grandmother’s attic. They stared at her with empty sockets and wore smiles that resemble wolves, their teeth bared in a grotesque parody of a smile.
Yet as terrifying as the memory of what happened in the past was, how close she came to losing Gil was even more terrifing. There are no words in her vocabulary that can describe the pain if he were to die and she doesn’t want to know the words either.
The dam breaks about half way back to the lab. One minute the young blonde is sitting quietly, and the next tears are silently falling down her cheeks. Moments later, quiet sobs alert Catherine to Sofia’s emotional state forcing her to pull the vehicle over to the side of the road.
One look at her companion and Catherine’s maternal instincts kick in with a vengeance. Reaching in her coat pocket she pulls out a package of facial tissue and hands it to Sofia. She then gathers Sofia in her arms and allows her to cry on her shoulder. Rubbing her back Catherine offers the blonde the same words of comfort she would her own daughter, doing her best to reassure both Sofia and herself that everything is going to be okay. That Gil and Warrick are going to pull through.
Letting Catherine to mother her, Sofia allows all her frustrations and fears to be vented.
Catherine rests her head on the younger woman’s head but keeps an eye on the front window for Tyler. She doesn’t like how vulnerable they are parked at the side of the road. The alert CSI doesn’t want that psycho sneaking up on them again.
Several minutes pass with the only sound of Sofia’s subsiding sobs filling the Charger.
Pulling away from the older woman, Sofia uses the tissue to wipe away her remaining tears. Embarrassed at her behavior she can barely look Catherine in the eye.
“Sorry, I . . . ”
“Don’t apologize. We’re both under a great deal of stress.”
“Really? You seem awfully calm.”
Sighing deeply, Catherine stares out the front window for several seconds before answering.
“I learned, at a very young age that you don’t let people see you weak, scared or worst of all crying, because they will use it against you to make you powerless. They will strip you bare both mentally and physically and then torture you . . . Marriage just drove that point home.”
“Catherine . . . ”
“Don’t pity me. I survived and I’m fine.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not, just have something in my eye,” Catherine says, but a lone tear running down red rimmed eyes proves her a liar.
Sofia hands over the rest of the tissue to Catherine and watches as the older woman dabs at the corner of her eye. “Is that why you won’t marry Warrick?” Sofia asks after several seconds of quiet. “We were teasing him at the scene, asking when he was going to make an honest woman out of you. He got really quiet and said you refused.”
“Eddie burnt me really badly, and I still got scars. Not to mention every guy before and after him has left their own scarring on me. As much as I love Warrick there’s a part of me that is terrified. Even the thought that I may lose him is still not enough to negate that fear.”
“But he loves you.”
“I know, but sometimes . . . it’s not enough,” she says before pulling back onto the road.
Sofia doesn’t respond - she doesn’t know how to respond, so she stares silently out the window as the miles rush by.
After several minutes, Catherine turns slightly to Sofia and keeping her voice even says, “If you want we can visit them in the hospital.”
“What are you talking about? Visiting hours isn’t for several hours.”
“You remember my friend? I’m certain if I ask, she’ll let us in for a few minutes.”
**********
Standing by the nurse’s station Tessa awaits the two women. At 5' 6" she stood in stark contrast to the two thin, pale investigators quickly approaching her. Her mother’s Greek heritage is visible through olive skin which is framed by dark auburn hair pulled back in a tight long ponytail that reaches just above her waist. An athletic body is easily discernable, even though she is wearing standard baby blue scrubs.
Tessa envelopes Catherine tightly in a bear hug, which the CSI returns gratefully. Deep sympathy for her cherished friend is visible through unshed tears that cling stubbornly to her eyelashes. Quiet words of encouragement are whispered into the redhead’s ear as the nurse allows Catherine to cling to her momentarily. What started out as a casual friendship born of their respective jobs has over the years blossomed into a sisterhood.
Tessa pulls away and gives Catherine the once over. “You look like shit, Cath.”
“Thanks,” Catherine relies blankly. It was true though, she looks like she hadn’t had a decent night sleep in days. Worrying over Warrick has eaten away at her, leaving a shell of a woman before her friend. Sadness weighs heavily in her eyes making them look dark like sapphires. What little make-up she has on does little to hide the signs of fatigue in her face.
“Seriously, you don’t look good. Isn’t there someone else you can pass this case on to?”
“I’m afraid not,” Catherine replies with a sigh, not wanting to get into the particulars of the case. Raising her eyes to meet her friend’s, Catherine gives her a look that Tessa over the years has learnt meant; she will not be dissuaded from her course of action.
Tessa turns her head to Sofia acknowledging her for the first time, and says with affection, “Keep an eye on her, will ya? She’s a stubborn old broad who’ll work herself into the ground.”
“I will,” Sofia responds feeling both slightly left out and impatient to see Gil.
“Good,” she replies before turning back to her friend. “You each have 10 minutes, Warrick’s in 108 and Gil is in 109. When the time is up, I’ll tap on the door and I expect you leave without protest, understand? If my boss finds out, I did this . . . ”
“He won’t,” Catherine promises. “We appreciate this Tessa. We really do.”
“Yeah well, you can pay me back by getting the bastard who did this to them.”
Tessa spares them one last look, debating for a second whether to warm them about what to expect when they enter each patient’s rooms. Instead she returns to her duties leaving the two women to their own devices. Words alone will do nothing to soften the shock.
Casting a last glance to each other, the two investigators silently wish the other luck before they step into their respective lover’s room.
After Catherine steps into the small sterile room she doesn’t go directly to Warrick’s bedside.
To see him chained to a hospital bed surrounded by machines and IV bags is almost more than she can handle. Just the thought alone is enough to twist her insides into knots.
Instead she walks around the small, sterile, white room for a full minute, looking at anything and everything except her lover. Thin pale fingers glides over get well bouquets whose scent can barely override the natural antiseptic smell of the hospital. Everyone from the lab it seems has been there at some point. From the lowest of techies to highest of ranking CSIs, each one has left some small memento of their visit.
Finally she turns to the figure in the bed; a strangled cry erupts from her and unbidden tears form and fall quickly from her eyes. She barely makes it to the chair before her knees give out. Breathing becomes difficult as she starts to hyperventilate, trying desperately to remain calm - but failing miserably. This is the first time she has laid eyes on Warrick since he was admitted to the hospital; they refused to let her, even if they had she knows cowardice would have kept her from seeing him. A part of her fears the worst and that same part refuses to have her last vision of Warrick be of him lying helplessly in a hospital bed. She wants to always have the memory of him, active, smiling and full of life.
She knows he’s in bad shape, knows he’s at death’s door from what the doctor’s told her earlier, three gunshot wounds all to internal organs he said. She did her best to mentally prepare herself for the worst on the drive here.
There is nothing though, that could prepare for the sight that greets her eyes.
Warrick’s skin was pale, almost translucent giving him a washed out look. The patches on his chest, which are hidden under the blanket are hooked up to an ECG machine to monitor his heart. On the right side of his chest, just under his sixth rib, a tube is connected to an underwater drainage, allowing the removal of the air surrounding his lung so it can slowly re-expand. IV bags containing nutrients, pain medication and blood are held on a metal pole hanging from the ceiling, and an oxygen mask covers both his mouth and nose.
Her conversation with Sofia floats back to her and every reason, every excuse she told the detective and herself for not marrying him seem petty and stupid. She has allowed her fear to cripple her. What if that same fear costs her the one man who has always loved her unconditionally, the one man who has never negatively judged her or her past, and has never mocked her when she was vulnerable?
“Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!” she whispered loudly, pounding her fist against the chair’s in rhythm to her words. Though if you asked her whether she was damning her own stupidity or Warrick for getting shot, even she couldn’t tell.
Tears, she no longer bothers to hide, run down her cheeks in a steady rivulet. Clutching his hand in hers she carefully places it over her abdomen, the baby obliges by kicking her in the same spot.
“You feel that Rick?” she asks gritting her teeth to stop her crying. She can’t though, and her voice comes out in gasps, unable to form complete sentences. “That’s your . . . our baby . . . and he or she is going to need to you . . . Lindsey needs you . . . Did you know she thinks of you . . . as a second father? She does . . . she told me so . . . I need you too . . . So, you can’t . . . die . . . you . . . can’t . . . leave . . . us . . . alone.”
Letting go of his hand, she rests her head against his chest as close as she can to his beating heart. She strains to hear the rhythmic thump, thump, thump, but it’s near impossible as her sobs fill the whole room.
**********
Gil always thought being in a coma would be like being in a deep sleep - unaware of the passage of time or anyone’s presence. He feels as if he is floating through a thick dark ether. He can hear, though, and feel. He can hear the machines that keep track of his heart and respiratory system. He can hear the doctors and nurses as they came and went about their business earlier in the day. They discussed his and Warrick’s prognoses in hushed tones, debating whether to call a priest for last rites. He also heard the voices of his fellow CSIs as they came and gave their regards.
Right now, all he senses is Sofia’s aura all around him, like a gentle spring breeze. He can feel a slight weight on his shoulder and feel a familiar hand holding his tightly. He can tell she’s crying and he wishes that he had the strength to reach out and wipe her tears away.
“Gil,” she says softly when she’s finally able to get her voice to work. “I’m right here, baby. I can’t stay long though, I wish I could. I wish I could be the first person you see when you wake up.”
‘ Me too, angel, ’ he thinks.
“I can’t lose you, Gil. You hear me? Not when I just found you.”
‘ You won’t lose me, I promise. ’
Her voice is too choked to continue talking. Large tears fall slowly down her face. She quickly wipes them away, not wanting to spend the remainder of her ten minutes bawling like a widow.
Hearing his heart beat strong and true as she rests her head on his chest, gives her confidence to continue. So long as Gil is alive, hope is alive. Not only the hope that he will survive and recover, but that she will defeat Tyler. Slowly the tears dry and she synchronizes her breathing with his. For the last few minutes she closes her eyes and allows their joined breaths to soothe her troubled mind.
She would have remained there for the whole day ignoring everyone and everything except Gil had the gentle rapping on the door not disturbed her. Lifting her head reluctantly, she slowly raises herself from her chair. Sofia lingers a brief second by her lover’s ear to deliver one last message.
“I love you Bugman,” she whispers.
‘ I love you too, angel. ’
Leaving the room, she nearly walks into Tessa.
“Well?” the nurse asks expectantly.
“Nothing, no change,” Sofia responds with a sad sigh. “Tell me the truth, what are his chances of pulling through?”
“His injuries aren’t as bad as Warrick’s, only two of the bullets hit internal organs the third one hit muscle. He lost a lot of blood, but . . . I honestly don’t see why he or Warrick for that matter won’t make it. It’s just a matter of time and patience. They’re healthy and most importantly they have people who love them dearly. Believe it or not that goes a long way.”
Sofia merely nods her head at the nurse’s words.
“Look Sofia, could you do me a favor and get Catherine for me? My boss wants me to run some errands for him and I need to get going.”
“No problem. And thanks . . . for everything.”
“Your welcome, just remember to take care of her and yourself.”
Tessa takes her leave from Sofia and the detective quickly makes her way to Warrick’s room, which she enters without knocking. She didn’t know what to expect. Catherine had been playing her emotions close to her chest. Except for a couple of kinks in her armor Catherine has managed to remain emotionally distant.
Whatever Sofia had been expecting it most definitely not what she is witnessing. The sound of Catherine’s sobs hits her like a brick between the eyes. She’s surprised she couldn’t hear Catherine in the hallway. The redhead’s shoulders shake as she finally lets lose with all her repressed sadness, despair and anger.
Without conscious thought, Sofia hurries to her partner’s side, pulls her from her chair and into a tight embrace. Catherine for her part returns the embrace with desperation, squeezing the younger woman as tightly as her stomach would allow.
“Catherine? Catherine, it’s going to be all right. I promise,” she says in quiet voice. “But we gotta get out of here, okay?”
Pulling away, it takes Catherine a full minute and a whole lot of determination to calm herself. Her eyes and nose are both colored a bright red, a dead give away to any passerby that she had been crying and crying hard. Her lips still quiver with the aftereffects of her breakdown and her cheeks are still wet from un-wiped tears. Wordlessly she reaches into her pocket and pulls the car keys out and gives them to Sofia. There is no way that she can drive in her condition, and if Sofia’s head wound were to provide added complications, it would have manifested itself by now.
Sofia takes the keys and gently leads Catherine out into the hallway, keeping her body between her and anyone who would make a fuss at the CSI’s appearance, but also to protect Catherine’s dignity.
After settling Catherine into the passenger side, Sofia gets into the driver seat. Removing her arm from her sling, she starts the engine for the return trip to the lab. A new determination takes root in each woman after seeing their lover surrounded by machines, their lives coming so perilously close to ending. There is no way that Tyler is going to get away with this - no way in hell.
It’s just a matter of time before they catch up with him and make him pay.