fic: Living proof (1/2)
Master - Part 1 - Part 2 - Art Masterpost
Adrianne is being irrational. Angry and irrational, and probably dangerously so. She needs to take a step back from the job, even if it means going against her gut, even if it means letting the other officers take charge of the missing persons case.
Decided, she takes off her weapon belt and heads into the Chief's office.
"I need to take a week."
Police Inspector J. D. Morgan swings his feet off his desk.
Adrianne sees belatedly that no, Morgan isn’t alone, and is in fact meeting with the mayor and his assistant.
"Sir," she amends, straightening to stand more deferentially, hands behind her back, chin level. "I would like to request my vacation, sir."
"Understandable," Morgan says.
"Thank you, sir."
The Chief's been running the department for some time now. He's been there for Adrianne's entire career, and he knows how much of her life she's put into this job. She works long hours and attends seminars. She has the best solve case in the department, and Adrianne knows he considers her one of his best and brightest.
"Officer Palicki's been heading the multiple-homicide case," Morgan explains.
The mayor nods. "Bodies found washed up on the shore of Lake Michigan. Nasty business."
"New one went missing this week. One of our own down in the crime lab." He glances at Adrianne. "Friend of hers."
Ex-girlfriend, Adrianne thinks but just lays her .45 on the desk in front of him.
"You take all the time you need," Morgan tells her.
"Yes, sir."
She heads back to her desk, where she unclips her badge from her pants and gathers it into her bag with a binder of paperwork and a set of handcuffs. She fishes out her lucky pen from between the stapler and the extra pair of underwear she keeps in the top drawer for times she spends the night at the office.
Sandy comes up just as Adrianne's locking up her desk and hands her a well-sticky-noted sheaf of papers.
"Here're the files you asked for," she says, and then she squeezes Adrianne's arm. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
It feels wrong to accept condolences. Adrianne's worried about Kristin, obviously she is. But she's not more affected than anyone else. They'd been seeing each other for around six weeks and it had been good enough, but she and Kristin didn't really hit it off very well outside group situations, and eventually Adrianne had broken it off. Whereas Sandy's known Kristin since they met at Quantico.
Adrianne accepts the folder, shaking her head. "Thanks. But we'll find her. I'm sure of it."
"You're right." Sandy's mouth quirks sympathetically nonetheless. "I'll see you at the officer's ball, ok? You've got a week to find something to wear that isn't jeans."
Adrianne looks hot in jeans, thank you very much. She says as much and Sandy makes an unimpressed noise and then tells her to keep her chin up.
On the way out, Adrianne passes where Danneel's reading over a lab report, and then Aldis and Chris Kane by the coffee clutch.
As she walks by, Aldis pulls a mug out of Chris's hands. "What are you doing? I'm still drinking this cup."
"It was almost empty," Chris says.
Aldis rolls his eyes. "Nah, there's some left," he says, and then calls over to Adrianne. "You taking time?"
You have one secret breakup, and suddenly the whole of Chicago PD knows about it. Something to take into account next time she decides to date a co-worker. "Yeah," she says. "Good luck meeting quota without me."
"Don't worry, A, we'll find this guy. And we'll get Kristin back, safe and sound."
"If he hasn't already murdered her and moved on to his next vic," Chris says, under his breath but loud enough for most of the room to hear. It makes Adrianne's stomach turn.
She grimaces. "Thanks, guys. I'll catch you on the flip side."
Adrianne has been on the force for three years. In that time, she's gotten way too up close and personal with every type of distasteful thing the job calls for, from Chicago lowlife to pedestrian office paperwork. She's been attacked in broad daylight, shot in the shoulder, and made it through multiple high speed car chases.
And she loves it. She's always wanted her work to mean something, wanted to make a difference, and now here she is today, saving the world one jewelry store robbery at a time. She has coworkers who are honest, hardworking, and tenacious as hell, and she has no doubt in her mind that they can deal with this one case without her taking point every step of the way.
Adrianne prides herself on being professional. She's big enough to know when she's a risk. A string of murders is one thing, but with this personal tie to the case, she knows there's a chance she wouldn't act rationally. That could jeopardize the entire investigation.
Which is why she spends the whole next day at home just chilling out on her couch with her laptop, keeping her mind off the job. Even without her working the case, she tells herself, they'll find Kristin and she and Adrianne can go back to firmly not speaking after their awkward breakup. She's putting work completely from her mind, and-
"Adrianne."
Adrianne jolts, sitting up from where she was slumped into the armrest. "What! I'm not doing anything."
Alona steamrolls over her, coming out of the kitchen to raise an eyebrow. "Don't even tell me you're not working. I can see your screen from here."
"What, this?" Adrianne waves to her laptop where the police database is open in multiple tabs. "It's- It's nothing."
"Yeah, because you totally look at criminal profiles in your spare time."
"I do! I mean, it's a hobby," Adrianne says. It totally is. Alona frowns before stepping back into the kitchen. Adrianne calls after her, "What! I do!"
The conversation picks up a minute later when Alona comes out again carrying drinks. "Babe, I know you're sad, ok? And I know it's going to be hard not to track down the kidnapper yourself, but you have to leave it up to Chris and Aldis. You're too close to this."
"Alona," Adrianne says, but can't get out the next words, can't say that Kristin could turn up dead like the rest of them. Instead, she says, "I'm sure it's linked. Kristin is a cop. She wouldn't just disappear. There's something going on here, and I'm going to find out what." She leans forward. "Look, I'm not crazy."
"No, I know. I'm just worried about you. Come eat. I brought Italian."
"Ugh, I love you," Adrianne says. She closes her laptop and rolls off the couch.
"Love you too," Alona says when she gets to the table, and hands her a plate of linguine.
Adrianne's recent favorite bar just happens to be the one Kristin was last seen at, which means Adrianne isn’t following a lead, not really. She is not going against direct order. She is just going for a drink. By herself. With a custom blade strapped to her inner thigh where she usually keeps her .45, just covered by the hemline of her dress. At the same bar Kristin had possibly been abducted from.
She's at the bar, sipping her drink, and the first thing she notices about the woman seated next to her is one foot visible in a strappy sandal. She follows the line of the woman's jeans up to a cute top and a pale neck until she meets the woman's eyes.
Because of course she's noticed Adrianne giving her a very frank once over. The woman sticks her palm out to somewhere under Adrianne's nose.
"Uh," Adrianne says, and takes it.
The woman smiles. "Hi," she says. The way she is stirring her drink bespeaks a certain familiarity with strangers going speechless.
Adrianne clears her throat. "I'm Adrianne."
"Genevieve."
"Um," Adrianne says when she realizes she's still gripping Genevieve's hand between them on the bar top. Genevieve's fingertips are touching her palm, skin warm, soft.
Adrianne lets go and picks up her drink again, feeling her cheeks heat and the back of her neck go warm. She tries to explain the moment away by saying, "You have uh, nice skin," and then immediately wants to hide under a table.
"I moisturize," says Genevieve, shrugging.
Adrianne searches desperately for a witty rejoinder, but comes up blank. Her collection of moisturizers is limited to Christmas presents from her neighbor the last three years, the bottles stuck under the sink in a Tupperware container where she keeps the extra toilet paper, so no common ground there. She coughs. "I can tell. My hands are dry all the time. Callouses and stuff."
And stuff. She is talking about gun callouses to a vision of beauty. She is going to go home and die.
Genevieve looks amused. "Not really," she says, and touches Adrianne's palm again to feel, pushing her thumb over the skin there. Adrianne's breath hitches, her thoughts bleeding slow, even after Genevieve pulls away and says with another shrug, "I like it. I think at this point I'm supposed to tell you your skin tells a story."
She's not wrong. Although she probably thinks it's guitar callouses. Adrianne should learn to play guitar, maybe Genevieve would like that. She opens her mouth to reply.
"Do you want to get out of here?" she ends up saying. It's definitely not what she'd intended to say, but so much of this short conversation is going wrong, she's really not surprised.
Genevieve laughs, which is bad enough, but then says, "You really don't want that."
Adrianne is somewhat irked. "Uh, yeah. I really do."
"All right," Genevieve says, then immediately follows that up with, "That's my cue to go."
"Wait, no, I'm sorry. I'm not usually that forward," Adrianne says. Because she's really not. "I obviously misjudged the situation."
"Believe me, it's not a big deal." Adrianne's smile probably looks pained because then Genevieve adjusts her bag on her shoulder and sends Adrianne a smile back.
"Hey," she says. "You're cute. Hope I see you around."
Adrianne's still staring at the door a minute after Genevieve walks out, holding on to the half-conviction that Genevieve might come walking back into the bar if she stares long enough.
Her senses are running dry like an electric shock and she sits for quite some time, until the bartender shows up wiping down the bar top with a rag. "You need another?"
She shakes her head and pulls herself back to the present, here and now in the bar where Kristin might have met her kidnapper. She reaches into her dress and pulls out her badge from where it is clipped to her bra strap. "Actually I'm going to need to see your security footage from last Friday. 3-11PM, this bar. Keep quiet about it."
The bartender only pauses for a second, then nods. "Sure thing."
Two women come to lean against the bar while she's waiting for the tape. Adrianne nods to them, feeling out of sorts, awkward in the wake of that interaction with a complete stranger. The women talk about the Giants game and the bartender eventually comes out with the tapes.
He covers her tab as well, but when she tries to pay him anyway he explains, "You guys saved my cat one time. Stuck up a tree."
"Seriously?"
He shakes his head. "Yeah, color me surprised. I always thought the real heroes were supposed to be the firefighters."
Adrianne takes a cab back at 1AM, entering her building like a ghost under neons and falling into her bed feeling like her feet will no longer hold her. Today's taken a lot more out of her than she thought.
She wraps herself in covers and doesn't know she's closed her eyes until she jolts awake just before sunrise. She's covered in cold sweat after a dream about the woman she'd met in the bar. In the dream she's truggling under water, all her senses going dead and sucking water into her lungs, something long and dark forcing its way down her throat until she wakes up gasping, choking on air.
She watches the footage over breakfast, which carries on through lunch because there are five different tapes, all showing different corners of the bar. She fast-forwards until, at twelve-thirty AM, Kristin walks in through the doors. Adrianne hits the space bar to freeze frame on Kristin, face half-turned toward the camera, one hand raised to flag down the bartender.
Adrianne breathes out through her nose. "Got you."
She takes a steadying breath, telling herself to buck up, head in the game, and then pushes play and watches Kristin walk up to sit down at a stool, and order a-
"Vodka tonic," Adrianne mouths, imagining Kristin's voice telling the bartender. Kristin is nothing if not consistent. The bartender slides a glass over and Kristin pays with the same wallet she'd slipped a picture of Adrianne and her into from a mall photo booth, taken on a whim.
"Hold on a sec," Adrianne whispers, because on screen she sees that a woman had just sat down next to Kristin. The woman looks familiar. Adrianne pauses and selects part of the screen to enlarge, and when the woman's face becomes clear, Adrianne catches her breath.
Because the woman on the screen is Genevieve.
The two begin talking. Adrianne watches with growing concern as Kristin becomes more and more engaged in conversation with Genevieve, and feels a surprising kick of something in her chest as she watches Kristin put her hand on Genevieve's arm. Adrianne knows that it's mostly a fucked up sort of jealousy, because she and Kristin are broken up and besides, Kristin is nice but kind of, well, boring.
But this video is proving maybe Adrianne hadn't known her that well at all. More importantly, it's painting a pretty clear picture that Genevieve was the last person Kristin talked to at the bar, just before her disappearance.
Kristin leaves with Genevieve at her side, and Adrianne lets the tape run for thirty seconds on a shot of two empty chairs, a man dropping his beer, and girls sharing a three-way kiss by the pool table before she clicks stop and rewinds the footage. She considers the dregs of her coffee with a frustration edging on panic and then watches again.
The longer she rewatches the entire interaction, the more incredulous she finds herself. A few things don't make sense. She watches Kristin lean in so Genevieve can see down her top. Watches her cross and uncross her legs, twirl her hair. The Kristin Adrianne knows is shy and serious. She's obsessed with her work in a way that Adrianne admires, and hadn't even made it through a full date with Adrianne until the third try because she kept getting paged from work. So Kristin leaving with a woman she'd just met at a bar? Not her style.
Adrianne pulls out her phone and scrolls through to find her boss.
"No, Kristin," she says as she waits for the Chief to pick up, watching Kristin leave again with Genevieve's hand in hers. "That's not like you at all."
Morgan gives her an assessing look, his big hands wrapped around his morning mug of coffee and implying a raised eyebrow more than doing it.
"You didn't come all this way to tell me you've already broken your promise to take some time off."
"No." Adrianne pauses. "Well, technically yes. But there's a good reason for it."
She stares Morgan down until he sighs and waves for her to go on. She tells him about the bar and the footage and then arrives at her point: "And it was the same woman I met in the bar."
Morgan pulls out a notepad, somewhat unimpressed, but Adrianne's used to it by now. The Chief has seen and heard a lot of things in his time. He'd only come to Chicago somewhat recently, transferred from the most violent part of Los Angeles.
"What did you say she looked like?" he asked.
Adrianne can picture Genevieve perfectly. "5'4, maybe 5'5". Long, dark hair." Legs, face, mouth. "Brown eyes."
"You have the footage on you?"
She passes it over the desk. "So, I'll go down to see the sketch artist." And Chris and Aldis. And grab a coffee. And a yogurt.
"I don't think that will be necessary." Her face must look confused, because Morgan continues. "You are helping. By staying out of this." He folds his hands on the desk. "Look, I believe there's something more going on here. I believe it is likely that Officer Kreuk's- that Kristin's disappearance and apparent kidnapping was indeed done by the same person responsible for the lake murders. But you'll need to leave it up to officers on active duty." He stresses this last point, raising an eyebrow.
So he believes her. The rest doesn't sting too much over that relief. Morgan continues, "Officer Hodge has the driven, optimism of a saint and Officer Kane has a no qualms about getting his hands dirty. They'll take care of it."
"Sir-"
"Go home," he says. She nods and turns to the door, but stops when he calls "Oh and Officer Palicki?"
"Sir?"
There's a faint quirk to his lips when he says, "Don't forget to show your face at the Officer's Ball Friday. You know how much I hate parties, so if I have to go, you're not getting out of it."
"Sir," Adrianne says, and leaves his office with an exaggerated salute.
She passes out of the office, walking by some of Chicago's finest talking by the coffee clutch and murderously bending paperclips at paperstrewn desks. Business as usual.
She can't help it. She's curious, and even though the Chief had given her explicit instruction not to follow up on any more leads, Adrianne calls in to the bar to asks about Genevieve. It can't hurt. She's not doing anything.
"Oh yeah," the cat-loving bartender tells her. "I know the lady you're talking about. Comes in for Trivia night Tuesdays. And some other days, too." He pauses a tic. "Hey. Thursday's today!"
"Yes," she says. "Thank you for your help."
Well, then.
When she parks by the bar that night, she idles by her car in the zapping neon glare of a minimart. The occasional pedestrian crosses the street rather than walk by, giving her a wide berth. Even though she's in plainclothes and she's driving a black Marauder rather than a normal black and white, she's obviously a cop. It's her stance, how she looks like she thinks she belongs there, has a purpose to her loitering.
She's good at stakeouts, and as she spends the hour waiting for Genevieve to emerge from the packed bar, she thinks about what following this lead might mean for her career. She's always gone by the book, spent her entire time on the force giving 110% and she could be taken out to dry for this if she botches things up on this case. She shouldn't even be here.
And yet, she feels like she has to be. She keeps thinking about Genevieve, feels some curiosity she can't quench.
When Genevieve exits the bar, Adrianne is ready.
"Genevieve," she calls, approaching her. Genevieve doesn't glance her way, doesn't slow down, and Adrianne breaks into a jog to catch up with her. "Hey!"
"You shouldn't be here." Genevieve calls over her shoulder, and keeps walking.
Adrianne follows her. Half a block down, Genevieve takes a left into an alley. She's not trying to escape, she can't be. She's not running, but she is heading away from the busy street, Adrianne notes, which makes her hackles rise.
"Kristin Kreuk!" she calls, when Genevieve's in the dark of the alley.
Genevieve finally slows to a halt. She turns and the light falls over her face, features cast in half shadow. She's without a doubt the most beautiful person Adrianne has ever met and she feels it like a kick to the gut, just seeing her like this.
"Kristin who?" Genevieve asks.
"Kristin Kreuk, the woman you kidnapped, just like you kidnapped Emmanuelle Vaugier, Jewel Staite, Jamie Luner, and Cindy Sampson, along with a dozen others."
Genevieve frowns, apparently confused. The idea that anyone could have murdered a woman without knowing her name sends a jolt of disgust clean through Adrianne and strengthens her resolve.
"You've got two seconds to convince me you didn't kill Kristin," Adrianne says. "But I saw the bar footage, I saw her leave with you, which makes you the last known person to see her before her disappearance."
Genevieve's expression shifts to one of understanding. "Oh."
Adrianne's hand goes to her side but her hand hits her jeans, and she remembers belatedly that she handed over her gun. She says, "So you admit you were involved."
"Look," Genevieve says. "It wasn’t me. I can see how it could look that way but-"
Which is admitting to knowledge of the crime. Adrianne pulls her handcuffs out of her jacket. Look, what the Chief doesn't know, won't hurt him.
"No, listen-" Genevieve says, eying the cuffs. She tries to step away, but her back hits the wall and Adrianne grabs her wrists feeling a thrill go through her at the touch. For a suspect, Genevieve sure isn't acting guilty, but that hazy thought flits away when she notices Genevieve's pulse beating slow under her fingers.
Adrianne feels like she's struggling to step away but somehow she just gets her hands in Genevieve's open jacket. "Get your hands off me!" she says, while fisting her hand in Genevieve's shirt and pulling her flush against her.
"Ok," Genevieve says in even tones, pressing back into the wall. Which puts too much distance between them. She steps in, mirroring Genevieve's step back, keeping them close so Genevieve can't get away.
Genevieve shows her hands, "Look, I'm not grabbing you or anything."
"You smell amazing," Adrianne hears herself say. "Like birthday cake. Or melted sugar."
Genevieve stops looking worried in favor of being bemused when Adrianne claps a hand over her mouth. Adrianne would never say something like that out loud, not to anyone. It's true, though, Genevieve smells like the best thing.
"Thanks," Genevieve says, smiling. "You can let go of me, you know. I'm trying to get to the bottom of the murders, too."
Adrianne is having a hard time thinking, her thoughts feeling slow and sensual in her head. The one thing she knows for sure is she can't let go of Genevieve, Genevieve, whose smile is like the most beautiful sunset. She frowns and gathers her thoughts. "So you do know about the murders."
"You should go home," Genevieve tells her in soothing tones. "I'll take care of it. I'm on the right side here."
Adrianne tightens her grip. "I don't believe you."
"I know things," Genevieve continues. "And I'd tell you if I could, but if I did you'd be in danger. They'd kill you and probably me, too. So I'm just going to slowly move away and you can go back to your place and take a cold shower and eat some celery, which for some reason totally helps, and then drink a stiff cup of coffee and probably-"
All this talk about food and showers is really attractive. Adrianne presses up against her.
And as she does, she can feel the shape of a gun in her pants.
Adrianne should cuff her right there, shove her into the back of her undercover car like this is an FBI porno, but instead she just moans and shifts in closer, pressing Genevieve into the wet brick of the building. Genevieve's hair smells so good, like brown sugar and jasmine, and her mouth looks so entirely kissable that Adrianne finds herself leaning in without conscious thought.
Genevieve hesitates and then turns her face away at the last minute so that Adrianne's lips hit her cheek, but she isn't fighting to escape. Instead, she's entirely still against Adrianne, soft and solid at once. That's until, weirdly enough, she lifts a hand to pet Adrianne's hair. It makes Adrianne relax a tiny fraction, even though she feels strung out, nerves zapping. She finds herself saying, "Please," which comes out like a sob, and rubbing her mouth against Genevieve's skin.
Genevieve sighs and says, almost to herself, "Oh, Jesus. I really shouldn't."
"Yes, you really should." And when Adrianne dips to kiss her this time Genevieve goes up on her toes immediately to meet her.
She presses up against her and curls her fingers into Adrianne's hair while Adrianne licks her way into Genevieve's mouth and tugs her close, senses going haywire, her skin heating even in this dank alley. A hot something pangs in her chest as she kisses sticky cherry lip gloss from Genevieve's mouth. This, she thinks with conviction.
It's over far too soon and when they break apart, Adrianne is flushed and dizzy and zeroed in on where her hands have reached hot skin up the back of Genevieve's shirt. She stares at Genevieve's mouth for half a minute before realizing Genevieve's lips are moving. Genevieve's saying something and it takes even longer while Adrianne rubs her thumbs over the dip of Genevieve's back to notice that there are actual words being said.
"-you're great but it's not going to work out. It's really very complicated- no, do not unhook my bra please and thank you- Really I feel very regretful about this but you don't know anything about me, and if you did-"
"I really want to have sex with you," Adrianne blurts out. "You're just like, really great."
Genevieve rolls her eyes, real sexy-like. "Yes, I know," she says, and then allows Adrianne to kiss her again before shoving her back again with more force, and laughs at her. "You dork. You can't accuse a girl of murder and then try to romance her. Badly, I might add. Although I suppose it's not your fault."
Adrianne smiles back. "Hey, let's go back to my car. It's on the corner."
The second she says it, Adrianne is absolutely horrified at how much she wants to have sex with Genevieve in her squad car. Why hadn't she thought of that immediately?
Because they can't do it in the alley- it's too public and breaks about five really ridiculous laws about public decency. And even though sex in her car would be entirely inappropriate for an officer of the law and completely against everything the uniform stands for, Adrianne is technically off work, off duty.
It totally makes sense. She imagines eating Genevieve out with Genevieve splayed out as much as she can be in the back seat, hands gripping the door behind her. Yeah, it's the best idea. Adrianne scrapes her nails up Genevieve's back, and says, "Let's go," tugging her closer.
There's a pause where Genevieve looks undecided, then she steps out of Adrianne's grip, and around her. Adrianne matches her steps until Genevieve says, "Ok, lead the way."
She allows Adrianne to hold her hand and kiss her neck as they walk, maneuvering them into a wall for a second until Genevieve laughs and pushes her and says, "Come on, hurry."
But she slows when Adrianne reaches the mouth of the alley. When Adrianne looks, Genevieve's eying the car and giving Adrianne a skeptical look. "This is an undercover cop car."
"Yeah, I know."
Genevieve laughs. "Dude, I'm not letting some cop find you locked in their car tomorrow. I draw the line at fucking with the police. I am way too undercover for that shit."
"No, it's mine," Adrianne says, feeling a goofy swell of pride. "I'm a cop, come on."
"You're a-" Genevieve pinches the bridge of her nose. "Oh for goodness' sake." But she doesn't seem too deterred because when Adrianne gets the door open, Genevieve shoves her in. Adrianne laughs and lets herself fall into the back seat, catching herself on her elbows.
But instead of Genevieve following her in, the door slams.
"What?"Adrianne says to the muted quiet of the car, air puffing out in front of her because suddenly she realizes, it's cold.
She sits up just in time to see Genevieve making a break for it, running down the street, through a puddle and around the corner. When Adrianne gets the door open to follow, the only thing left is the receding echo of Genevieve's heels from a great distance.
Adrianne has a pounding headache by the time she manages to drag herself home. Five minutes after Genevieve takes off (and rightly so, Jesus) a wave of guilt crashes over her that leaves her numb with confusion. She treated a person like that. She treated a murder suspect like that. What the hell kind of abuse of authority did she just get away with? Christ.
She has the impression of barely making it back to the apartment, mind fuzzy and distant. When she falls into bed she drops off immediately, clothes still on, sick to her stomach with it.
And when she wakes up at 11AM the next day, she still feels like she's about to puke, body sore like she hasn't just slept nine hours and change. She's still half exhausted but at least the headache has ebbed to almost nothing and she's left with only her complete horror and embarrassment. She tries to stave off remembering anything about the night before, but keeps coming back to the sick longing at the memory of Genevieve's living skin under her hands, the indulgence of a memory.
Eventually, Alona's voice comes through her door. "Hey, Adrianne?"
Adrianne pulls the covers tighter around herself.
"Mmlksjfd," she says into her pillow.
The door cracks. "Someone stuck a letter in the door for you. I put it on the table."
"Ok."
There's a silence, then Alona says, "Come open it. I want to see what it is. The envelope is super cute."
"Fine."
Adrianne turns her face back into her pillow and takes a second to breathe in deep, that feeling of dread humming through her, and not only because she could be fired for this. On top of making forceful advances on a suspect, she remembers Genevieve mentioning that she knew something about the case. How had Adrianne not followed up on that? At the time she'd been so distracted, but that seems impossible now.
She finally rolls out of bed and pads into the living room, and finds the letter on the table.
"Hm," she says, examining the looping script of her name. She fights the sudden urge to put the letter to her nose, smell the paper. She's still half asleep, out of it.
She puts a thumb under the flap and rips it cleanly open, and when she pours out the contents, a bracelet slides out onto her palm, followed by a note written on baby pink paper that reads, Wear this and we'll talk. Wednesday, 11pm. Same place. -G
Adrianne relishes a slow burn of satisfaction at the note, and then holds up the bracelet for closer inspection, dangling it from two fingers. It's delicate and gold, with tiny hearts and stars and an octopus charm jangling on it, on the trendy side of tacky.
"What the hell?" she mutters. Why would Genevieve send her a bracelet?
Alona steps out of the kitchen with a piece of buttered toast. "It's so cute!"
Adrianne doesn't take her eyes off the octopus, which seems to glint back at her. It has an unrealistic octopus smile etched into the gold that frankly creeps her the fuck out. She says, "I guess."
"Hey." Alona comes to take a closer look. "You don't want it, I'll take it."
"Stop trying to steal my secret admirers," Adrianne says and slips the bracelet onto her wrist.
Adrianne reads and rereads the victim reports like a woman possessed. She cross references these recent kidnappings and murders with the work of known serial killers, but nothing matches up. She tries to put together a greater pattern, but all she has is that the victims are women, who are missing from seven to twelve days before their bodies show up in the lake. No new connections, no new inspiration. It's just the same old information, broken leads and dead ends.
She thinks about what Genevieve had said, that she was following up on the murders. Adrianne is intrigued, of course. But she isn't planning on showing up to meet her. Genevieve may well be the kidnapper, for one, and it's not like Adrianne can really justify going in without backup for a second - no, a third - time.
But Morgan's already told her to stay off it, and she can't imagine Aldis, or Chris, or god help her, Sandy, who's more rule-abiding than Adrianne even, helping her without the Chief's say-so. It goes against everything Adrianne's tried to aspire to in her time on the force. There are systems in place for a reason, even though she occasionally forgets. So she's not going to go.
Rather, she wouldn't go under normal circumstances. But...Adrianne knows she's on the right track. Genevieve has all but admitted playing a part in the kidnappings, and it would be bad police work to let a lead like that go. She knows no one is going to follow up on this. No one else knows, for Christ's sake. And someone has to do something.
And if she gets a sharp thrill at the memory of Genevieve pulled tight against her in the dark, that's secondary, unimportant. She's going to apologize, like a decent human being, and none of that is going to happen again. She's going to remain professional, like she should have in the first place.
"We've got to stop meeting like this," Genevieve says that night, appearing out of the shadows when Adrianne steps into the alley.
Adrianne hadn't been fully aware of how badly she'd been feeling about the night before, she sees it now. Because now, with Genevieve here in a black dress and jacket pulled tight around her, apparently unharmed, it really hits her. At least she doesn't feel out of her mind with longing like she had been last time. The memory of it feels like a dream.
"Hey, how are you feeling?" she asks, looking her over.
Genevieve's smile is wry. "I should probably be asking you the same question. How's your head?"
Adrianne frowns. "Just fine. Hey, I'm sorry about last night, when I- I can think of some really poor excuses for how I acted-" stress, Kristin's kidnapping, "-but when it comes down to it, I honestly don't know what came over me."
"Believe me, it took me kind of by surprise," Genevieve says. "But you know, romantic in its own creepy way."
"Romantic?" Adrianne repeats.
"Yeah, I mean. It's not every day you meet a cute girl at a dive bar who wants to make an honest woman out of you right then and there."
"Oh my god," Adrianne says, so, so embarrassed.
"But really. Don't stress."
"You ran away," Adrianne points out.
Genevieve gives her an incredulous look. "You're a cop." She says it like that explains everything.
"Hey, we're not all corrupt." She pauses. "Even though I completely disproved that last night, and- ok, you know what? Let's start over."
She rolls her eyes when Genevieve starts laughing at her then, but Adrianne's experiencing that flush guilty relief you only feel when you've been let off easy for something bad. And Genevieve is adorable and having way too much fun with this.
"Ok, well," Adrianne says. "You're not entirely blameless. I'd also have you know that attempting to bribe a police officer is a criminal offense."
"Bribe a police officer?"
Adrianne holds up her arm so that the bracelet catches the light from a window three floors up. It feels strangely hot against her wrist, almost uncomfortable.
Genevieve shakes her head. "No. That's for protection." When Adrianne rolls her eyes, Genevieve takes a step toward her but then stops and puts her hands up, apparently noticing how Adrianne tenses up. "How are you feeling?"
"Other than guilty and confused, I feel fine."
"Good."
Adrianne takes a deep breath. "Good. So, now that we've gotten all that out of the way, how about you drop your weapon and we'll talk."
"What?" Genevieve asks. "I don't have a weapon."
"The other day. I felt it." Adrianne holds off saying 'in your pants' because it sounds like a line, even though it's true.
Genevieve's wearing a dress though, one that doesn't leave much to the imagination, and at a glance Adrianne can't find any line of a gun. But people who carry guns into bars one night statistically do it again, and there's something shady about Genevieve, despite how badly, inexplicably, Adrianne wants to believe every word she says.
Instead of looking guilty and denying that she'd been illegally packing, Genevieve studies Adrianne's face. She says, "It isn’t a weapon. Not as such. And look. I know you think I killed your friend-"
"Girlfriend," Adrianne says. Then amends, "Ex-girlfriend. And as far as we know, she's only missing. Not dead. We don't know that."
Genevieve raises her eyebrows and says, "Ok, whatever. I know you think I kidnapped her, but I didn't."
"Then tell me who did." Genevieve falters at that. Adrianne rolls her shoulders. Now they're getting somewhere. She doesn't want Genevieve to be guilty though, hopes Genevieve has nothing to do with it. "Who, then? Give me a name."
"I-" Genevieve says, but then she looks away. "It's not that simple. I can't."
"Right, ok." Adrianne takes a step toward her, ready to get her cuffed for real this time.
"I can't," Genevieve says, more vehemently, standing her ground. "And it's not for the reason you'd think."
"What's your reason, then?"
"They're in the family."
Adrianne studies her face. "Is that a cult or something? The family?"
"No." Genevieve wraps her arms around herself. "No, family as in, they're related to me. Distantly, but- but I've got it under control. I'm going to stop them."
"What do you mean, they? Are there more than one?"
Genevieve laughs, a dark sound that echoes down the alley and sends shivers up Adrianne's spine. "Yeah. There are more than one."
Genevieve sounds too amused, distressed but not distressed enough. There are apparently multiple serial killers in her family and she seems relatively unconcerned. It makes Adrianne's skin crawl.
"There are a couple in Chicago," Genevieve continues. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you, but you seem like-" Genevieve cuts herself off, and she shakes her head.
"What?"
"Look, just turn back now. I have this covered. I'm on it."
"What does that mean? Are you on the force? FBI?" Adrianne hangs on to the idea for a second, feeling a desperate edge of relief. "You are, aren't you? What's your jurisdiction?"
"No," Genevieve says. "No, definitely not. I just mean I'm on it, ok? Believe me, I have a whole lot reason more than you do to stop them. If you need to do something about it, just tell your supervisors or something. Follow protocol."
Adrianne wants to believe her. Genevieve's expression is earnest, she seems cornered but not guilty. And if she were the perpetrator, Adrianne thinks, she wouldn't make nice and try to explain, she would take Adrianne out, take action.
But she knows something, there's no doubt about that. So she's involved but not to blame. Scared. And Adrianne, as an officer of the law, has the resources to get her out of the situation. "I'm going to help you," she tells her. "You don't have to go through this alone any longer. I have people you can talk to." She takes a step closer, touches Genevieve's arm. "Trust me. You can tell me anything. I can help."
Genevieve rolls her eyes. "Oh, Jesus." but Adrianne feels Genevieve's skin goosebump under her fingers, brushes her hand more firmly over the spot again to soothe them. When she looks up, Genevieve’s watching her, expression guarded.
"Tell me," Adrianne says.
Genevieve hesitates, and then says, completely deadpan, "I'm a succubus."
"Come again?" A truck had driven down the main road right then. Adrianne had misheard her.
"Succubus," Genevieve repeats. "And that 'weapon' you felt? That was a tentacle. I come from a clan of succubi."
Adrianne stares at her. Scratch social services, she also has the numbers of a fine local psychiatric ward.
"We find women, seduce them, lure them away from public places and drain their energy for weeks until we have no further use for them." Genevieve keeps on talking quickly. "But I don't do it any more. My powers are really weak right now because it's been years. I stopped doing all that, swore myself clean. I'm kind of a freak, actually."
Adrianne stares at her some more.
"I'm serious," Genevieve insists. "I was surprised that the pheremones I secrete affected you like they did yesterday, actually, and the first time, too. I haven't fed in so long that most people don't get it that strong, just get kind of turned on and go find someone to sleep with. But uh, don't worry." And here she looks kind of awkward. "That bracelet you're wearing should protect you from the worst of it."
Adrianne looks down at the bracelet, at the dangling, grinning octopus. "You know, if you wanted to distract me you could have come up with a more believable story, not just give me jewelry."
"I'm flattered, though," Genevieve says, ignoring her. "Succubi only play on existing attraction, just magnify it to unbearable levels, so you must think I'm really hot in the first place for it to have hit you that hard."
"This isn't going to get you out of helping me," Adrianne tells her, because oh god, she is not going to talk about how hot she thinks Genevieve is. That is out of the question.
Genevieve's smile goes a little rueful. "Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you. Like I said, reformed. When I was talking to Kristin, I was actually asking her what information the police had on the murders."
"What?"
"I'm trying to find my family's nest. I need to stop them. It's somewhere here in the city."
Adrianne laughs and steps away, shaking her head. "You're funny. You're really funny."
Maybe it's her imagination, but Genevieve looks disappointed. "Even if you don't believe me, keep it on, ok? The bracelet?"
Adrianne takes a second to respond, because what? Genevieve is obviously lying, no two ways about that. She's a suspect and knows it, and she's just messing with Adrianne to buy time or distract her.
But what she's saying, when applied to a world where succubi existed, could hypothetically make sense- But succubi don't exist, and Genevieve is standing in front of her, kind of waiting, watching her, not trying to get away, and Adrianne feels so stupid because obviously it's a joke. She's supposed to laugh.
She nods, mock seriously and says, "Ok, sure thing," before smiling again. This girl, really. "You know, it's too bad we met like this. You're really funny, you know that?"
Genevieve looks away, hugging her jacket closer around herself. She looks small, delicate. And Adrianne almost laughs out loud at the idea of Genevieve as a vampire-like sex-monster that preys on women in nightmare.
"But hey," she says. "I'm offering you protection."
"For what? Selling out my family?" Genevieve scoffs. "Never going to happen. Just leave, Officer. I've got it covered."
"Yeah, you really don't. Just last Monday we found Michelle Borth's body floating face down in Lake Michigan. You call that covered? You don't seem to have stopped anything."
Genevieve walks away and Adrianne calls after her. "Don't worry. I already talked to the Chief and he said they would follow up!"
Genevieve doesn't turn, just keeps walking and calls back, "Yeah, I bet. I'll see you soon."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Adrianne yells after her, but Genevieve is gone.
Over wine that night, Adrianne examines her own biases. She thinks about how normally she'd put in a report and have Genevieve taken into custody, but there's something different going on here, it feels obvious but elusive. There's something about Genevieve that makes Adrianne want to believe her, which may or may not be that Genevieve is impossibly hot.
This shouldn't be an issue, but it seems to be clouding Adrianne's judgment every time they meet, a fact that eclipses all else, Adrianne drawn to her in ways that she shouldn't be.
What it comes down to, is she wants Genevieve to be the hot vigilante woman who splits her time between drinking at the local bar and fighting crime like she says she is. She wants Genevieve's story to check out. Which would mean that Genevieve's been subject to manipulation by a crazy family of psychopaths and none of it is her fault.
Then there's the problem of the gun. Genevieve packs a weapon that Adrianne had clearly felt pressing against her, no two ways about it, yet Genevieve sidestepped and made light of the fact, told Adrianne some farfetched story, said she was a succubus, of all things, with a tentacle between her legs.
Which Adrianne can't stop thinking about. A tentacle. Genevieve had said tentacle. People tell Adrianne crazy shit on the daily, she hears all sorts of stories, but tentacles?
She laughs to herself, shakes her head. It's hilarious. It's hilarious, but she's still thinking about this purported tentacle when she's getting off in bed that night. Genevieve is obviously lying, but Adrianne considers the logistics, just for kicks. She'd said she was a succubus, which means that this tentacle is probably related. Which means it's used during sex. Adrianne wonders how that works exactly, whether it's prehensile or whether it just kind of waves around like a cartoon tentacle. She wonders how long it is when it's erect, and also where it goes when it's not. Then she's thinking of the possibilities of an erect, prehensile tentacle attached to Genevieve, right along with a sexy top and tight jeans. She wonders if it's as kinky as it sounds, how long or wide around it is, how it would feel.
Adrianne has always been a kind of size queen. The few guys she's slept with have been all about the dick and none of the personality. But if she's honest with herself, it's never been enough. So she kind of loves Genevieve for coming up with a story that's at once so ridiculous and so hot that Adrianne can get off on the idea of a tentacle filling her up shame-free.
She's still thinking about it over cereal the next day. What's hilarious is that succubi would make sense as far as the murders were concerned. The women have been appearing in the lake unscathed, save being dead, and impossibly gaunt like they'd aged over the course of weeks. If only they could blame this tragedy on a bunch of monsters, because every time a new body shows up, Adrianne has to try that much harder to keep a grip on her faith in humanity.
"Aw, you're going to work?" she asks when Alona comes out of her room, grabbing her keys off the kitchen table.
"Just because you get to sit on your ass not taking a vacation," Alona says, raising a pointed eyebrow at the file folder open on the table. "Doesn't mean the rest of us don't have to work. Someone's gotta catalog blood samples."
"Yeah, I guess."Alona works twelve hour shifts at the hospital, which sounds hellish, but they're followed by four-day weekends. "You sure you don't want to come to this party as my date? Appetizers in exchange for shielding me from small talk?"
Alona throws her a look. "You wish." She waves and shuts the door behind her.
Adrianne spends three minutes looking at the file, mind back on Genevieve, before heading to her room to spend some quality time with her vibrator. Maybe she should feel guilty. Maybe not.
A taxi drops Adrianne off the next evening in front of an old southern mansion with a columnade and an avenue of trees drooping over in the darkness. The front door is lit up, and a man in tux welcomes officers and their guests with flutes of champagne on a silver tray.
Chicago PD holds quarterly parties like these to keep morale up as far as Adrianne can tell. None of the coulple hundred in attendance are really the black tie type, but they all make an admirable effort, and tonight is no exception. The atmosphere is lively with bustling conversation and a jazz band playing in one corner.
Adrianne steps into the room and Aldis finds her immediately. "Officer Palicki," he nods. "I trust you're doing well."
"Why, good evening," she says.
They head to the food, which is Adrianne's absolute favorite part of social functions. There's a good selection of finger food and a respectable spread of desserts. "So, fill me in on the gossip."
"Gossip? Me?" he asks, which is laughable and he knows it.
"Seriously, dish. You do not realize how much goes on in one week until you're on you're on your couch for that long."
"Yeah, I can't imagine what even one day out of the office would do to me, let alone a whole week." He shakes his head. "But look who I'm talking to, you haven't taken a vacation since...well, ever. What have you been doing, even?"
Adrianne picks up a mini chocolate dessert thing and takes a spoonful. She's going to use it to deflect answering the question, but then the chocolate hits. "Oh my god," she says, licking the spoon clean. "This is the best chocolate mousse I've ever had."
"Hey, give me some," he says.
"Get your own!"
It's a good party. She dances one song with Steve who's in the cubicle opposite her, and discusses the broken copy machine at work through others. But the party really starts when she turns to find Genevieve coming toward her in in a tiny black dress and Manolos.
"So, no date?" Aldis is just asking her, because regardless of what he might say, he really is the office gossip.
"No," she says just as a voice behind her says, "I'm her date."
Adrianne turns and then says, "Ha ha, funny," when she sees who it is, even though her heart's climbed up into her throat.
"Genevieve," Adrianne says, gesturing to her. "Meet my co-worker, Officer Hodge."
"Aldis, please," he says, and shakes her hand. Then, he gets a weird expression on his face. He drops her hand seconds after they touch and mutters, "I have to go help Chris out. See you."
"He's not usually that awkward," Adrianne tells Genevieve, who is scanning the room like she's looking for someone. When she looks over her shoulder, her dangling earrings catch the light like bursts of gold flame and she pushes her hair back with a slow hand, fingers twisting through dark strands.
"Damn," Adrianne says, mainly to herself, but the smirk on Genevieve's face when she looks back helps break her out of the thrall. Adrianne reminds herself that Genevieve is not a friend, she's more accurately a shady person Adrianne met at a bar.
"Hi yourself," Genevieve says, giving Adrianne an approving once-over. Adrianne tries to maintain her cool.
"You know that dress you think about but never have a reason to buy?" Adrianne asks, and when Genevieve nods, gestures to herself. "Well, this is that dress."
It's a peachy, satin tight thing, square necked and cute, but short, and Adrianne had spent forty bucks on lip products alone.
Genevieve nods. "Well, you look expensive."
One compliment from her, apparently, and Adrianne's weak kneed and red faced. She tries very hard not to preen, and instead focuses on the curl licking along Genevieve's collarbone.
"So," she asks, applying herself mainly to her drink. "Why are you here?"
"Your date, remember?"
Adrianne raises an eyebrow.
"Ok," Genevieve says. "I'm following up on the case." She says it with heavy quotes.
"Yeah, right."
Genevieve rolls her eyes. "Ok, so I'm not technically on the guest list. But I really am here following a lead. There's a strong chance that members connected to the family I told you about will be here conducting business."
"Here?" When Genevieve looks at her, waiting for her to put it together, Adrianne double takes. "You're trying to tell me the kidnapper has someone on the inside? A member of the PD's dirty, is that it?"
Genevieve just keeps looking at her, and with the bustle of decorated friends and colleagues moving around them, sporadic laughter and the clink of silverware, Adrianne feels suddenly angry.
"You think I'd trust you, over the officers of the Chicago PD?"
Genevieve hooks a finger under the bracelet Adrianne's still wearing-couldn't take it off, she hadn't wanted to and it matches so nicely with her dress- and tugs at it playfully, effectively dousing any anger Adrianne was just feeling. She sways toward Genevieve, who asks, "I'm not still your suspect, am I?" Her fingertips are touching Adrianne's skin, it's all Adrianne can think about. Warm points of promise. "Don't you believe me?"
"I believe you," Adrianne breathes, and feels an ill thrumming of want all over, the world dimming around her. She'd thought the violent, physical reaction she had to Genevieve had worn off to manageable levels, but now it's back full-force, she's never felt anything like it, her heart constricting, her lungs aching.
She doesn't remember her eyes falling shut, but when she opens them again, Genevieve is gone. Adrianne is left standing dumbstruck by the cheese platter.
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