Fic: Unforgettable 4/4
Title: Unforgettable
Author: Demeter
Fandom: Women's Murder Club
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
Summary: When a client and employee of an escort service get murdered, the club's investigations lead to unexpected revelations.
A/N: There you go, the last part. That wasn't so hard, was it? ;)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
"The alibi doesn't pan out. That will be enough of a probable cause to keep him for a bit, right?" Lindsay asked hopefully.
"I think so." Denise Kwon gave her a curious look. "So why is it that you woke me at 2 AM and not Bernhardt?"
"Her cell phone is turned off," Lindsay gave the honest answer which prompted a wry smile from the acting D.A. Then she frowned. "Are you sure everything's okay? It's unusual. The case could break any day now... and I'm sure she'll know it first anyway."
Lindsay ignored the slight barb, wondering if Denise was actually worried about Jill. And, if she had reason to. But no, Jill and Cindy were just out for a night of fun. Nothing would happen, especially since she believed the murderer of the three women to sit in a holding cell right now. She still wanted to talk to Peters, but Atkinson seemed more like a man who could come up with and realize those scenes.
"I am sure."
She knew her words to be a lie seconds before the ring of her cell phone startled them both.
"Jill?"
"I just got home and I got this... picture. I'm so sorry." Her friend's voice was thick with tears.
"Okay, calm down, I'm coming to pick you up," she said intently. "Where is Cindy?"
***
"Linda!" Lucinda Bradshaw was visibly startled. "I didn't expect you until later." Giving Lindsay the onceover, she added, "I almost didn't recognize you, but the casual style suits you."
"Thanks." Lindsay wasn't about to waste any more time with niceties, so she flashed her badge at the woman. "Inspector Lindsay Boxer, SFPD."
"Wow. You lied to me, and you did it well," Lucinda said dryly. " Do you think I murdered the women? They were like family to me!"
"You are not under suspicion for murder. However, it was probably your side business that attracted the killer's attention."
"My side - oh my. Cindy, is she a cop, too?"
If the situation hadn't been as serious as it was, Lindsay would have allowed a moment of pride. "She's a reporter."
"So you think what we do justifies this sick bastard's actions? Because it's not completely in tune with your laws?" Bradshaw challenged. She shook her head. "What kind of world are you living in? We offer a discreet and safe space."
"Safe? Three women have died, a fourth has been traumatized to the point she can't talk about what she's seen. That's hardly safe. Tell me, do you recognize the name Jill Bernhardt?"
"Is she okay?" Lucinda asked, alarmed.
"Yes, she is. But he's got Cindy."
"Oh God."
Lindsay understood the sentiment all too well, but she couldn't give in to it now. Cindy's life depended on her ability to function. "I need your help," she said.
Lucinda nodded grimly. "Anything," she promised.
***
"Jill. This is not you fault." Lindsay grasped both of Jill's arms for emphasis. She didn' mind being the one who needed to give comfort as at the moment, it kept her from falling apart.
"He saw us together." Jill's eyes were glistening with tears. "We already know he had access to the files, then he knew Lucinda had offered Cindy the specialty spot. He put two and two together."
That was exactly what Lindsay had thought, only her reasoning was a different one. Jill couldn't be blamed for this mess just because she took Cindy on a girl's night out. If anything, it was on Lindsay as she could have damn well tried harder to keep Cindy away from Unforgettable.
She forced herself to take another look at the picture, enlarged and printed out, the kidnapper had sent to Jill's cell phone.
Cindy looked peaceful in her drugged sleep. She was barefoot, wearing a blue and white cotton nightgown. She was simply asleep; Lindsay knew, because she looked unharmed otherwise. The perp had always killed the escort first, but he'd wanted them aware. This picture had been taken half an hour ago.
There wasn't a lot of time.
It also meant that it couldn't have been Atkinson, or he had help all along. Which was likely.
"We'll find her," she said with more conviction than she had reason to, for her benefit just as much as Jill's. She picked up the picture again, resisting the urge to trace her fingers over like a caress. There wasn't time for this. Then she started, looking at it again.
"Jill? Come on, tell me you see this too."
***
Upon waking, Cindy wondered for a split-second why she was feeling so cold. When she opened her eyes, finding herself in a dark basement instead of her bedroom, panic set in as she tried to bolt upright, but was brought up short by the rope around her wrists.
There wasn't much to see, nothing to clue her in as to who had taken her and why. Not that it was so hard to figure out. With the way she'd been left here... Cindy swallowed hard. That's how convincing she'd been on her undercover gig.
Seemed like the killer had believed her.
***
A towel had been left carelessly at the foot of the bed, the stitching not readable, but Lindsay did recognize the coloring. "It belongs to the hotel where Magdalene and Sybil were found. Paradise Inn."
"But Alina was found in another hotel," Jill reminded her. "Where's the connection?"
"I don't know... yet. I need to go over the staff lists of both hotels again. See if anything clicks."
"Find me someone conspicious and I'll get you the warrant."
"You bet," Lindsay promised.
***
"You must be mistaken!" Graham Turner, the Paradise Inn's manager claimed. "Hell, it's so horrible anything like this happened here. We want our house to be a safe haven for our guests, and now it's the crime scene tourists we attract. Do you have any idea how much damage has been done to our reputation?"
"Forgive me if I only care about the damage done to the two women," Lindsay said sarcastically.
He was sweating. She was quite sure he was lying about something. The temptation to shake it out of him was alarmingly strong, especially given the fact that she knew, every minute counted for Cindy.
"You know something, Mr. Turner. You tell me now, or we could be here all night. By then, it'll be another death on you." She delivered the words coolly, in a matter-of-fact tone while the mere implications scared her witless. "He took another woman, Graham." Lindsay leaned closer to him, seeing his eyes widen. "We don't find her in time, I'll make it my personal mission to make sure you'll be put away for aiding and abetting a murderer, and do you want to know what's awaiting you then?"
"I didn't!" he shouted, beats of sweat running down his forehead. "God, I had no idea."
Lindsay took a step back and sat in her chair. "Okay. You help us, we're gonna help you, it's that easy. Don't even try to play games with me. I'm not in the mood."
***
Graham Turner had been working briefly in the hotel where Alina's body had been found, as a stand-in, which explained why it was in his file but not on the general list. Both the Paradise and the Sunset Inn belonged to the same chain. Jarrod Peters, Maria's husband, had had a temp job as a janitor for the Paradise Inn. He'd convinced Graham that they could both make a fortune by spying on the guests.
What he hadn't mentioned was that he was after one in particular, his ex-wife who had left him for a woman.
It all came down to Peters again. Graham claimed he had an adress that might not be known to the police as he'd visited Peters while they planned the placement of the bugs in the hotel rooms. "That's all I did," he insisted. "I didn't know he was killing those women."
Lindsay couldn't spare a moment to feel sorry for the man.
***
"San Francisco Police Department, open the door!" In the neighbor's garden, a dog barked. Otherwise, the scenery was eerrily silent.
Lindsay felt uncomfortably hot under the Kevlar, a drop of sweat sneaking down her spine. It was too damn silent. They couldn't be too late. She just couldn't afford the thought. Exchanging a look with Jacobi, she nodded, and they broke down the door, rushing into the house and immediately to the door leading to the basement. There hadn't been much light in the room Cindy had been held.
If Peters was hiding in there, he might be armed.
They crept down the uneven stairs cautiously, coming to a halt in front of the massive wooden door.
Lindsay gripped her gun tighter, trying the lock. The door swung open.
The room behind was clearly the one from the photograph. It was empty.
***
He held up the paper slip in front of her with an ugly grin. Cindy had seen those, not on the crime scenes where they'd been left, but on Atkinson's web site.
"Do you know what that means?"
She was shaking with fear, but still not giving him the satisfaction of talking to him, so Cindy just stared up at the man with as much defiance as she could muster, clad only in her nightgown and bound to the bed in this new room. A suite bedroom. He'd never planned to kill her in the basement, she realized.
"No? I guess you're gonna find out, bitch," he said,slapping her hard enough to make her lip split. "Soon enough."
He went over to the stereo and put the CD in the player. "Gonna be Unforgettable," he said, snickering. "Unfortunately, you won't be around to tell about it."
***
The room was darkened by a blanket hanging over the window, pipes running along the wall. The bed was a mere iron frame with a dirty mattress on it, the towel hanging over the foot. There were ropes still bound to the frame; pointing her flashlight at them, Lindsay could see the dark stains. Blood.
She straightened, looking around for any clues as to where the kidnapper might have moved. She was aware of the fear like a choking hold, but she couldn't give in to it now.
The ringing of her cell phone and Tom's name on the caller ID did nothing to improve her mood. "The house is empty. They've been here, but he took her elsewhere," she forewent any kind of greeting. "What is it?"
"I've got Ms. Bradshaw on the phone. She wants to talk to you."
"Put her on," Lindsay said curtly.
"Lindsay, I put the word out there with the girls to watch out for anyone suspicious. They know what Peters looks like. Katheryn saw him yesterday. She's on the way here."
"Okay. So am I." Before she could hang up though, Tom interrupted her again. "I'll send Jacobi and Fong. Linz, I want you at the hospital. Brennan just woke up."
Unfortunately, he knew her too well, thinking it was probably less likely for her to shake information out of a woman who'd been comatose until a while ago than with the man who was likely behind Cindy's abduction.
"Don't worry, Linds," he said. "I'll take care of Peters; if he knows where Cindy is, he's going to tell us. We'll find her."
"Thank you."
She hung up, probably too late for him to not detect the emotion in her voice. At the moment, Lindsay just didn't care.
***
Jill felt lightheaded as she followed Jacobi into the room behind Lucinda Bradshaw's office, a conference room with a table big enough for everyone gathered. Both were familiar even she hadn't been here for a while.
She nodded to Hanson North whom Lucinda had commissioned for her defense in the case of her 'specialty list', and cast a quick look at Katheryn who did a double take at the sight of her. Jill couldn't be worried about any secrets coming out now, the cold and anxious feeling that had taken hold of her since the first text message with the picture had arrived was all for Cindy.
According to Claire, none of the women had been killed right away, but the escorts had suffered torture for hours. Jill wanted nothing but find herself a quiet restroom and give in to the tears pressing behind her eyes, but she knew she couldn't. Doing her job was the only thing she could do to help Cindy now. So she would.
"I've seen Peters' car parked at a hotel," Katheryn told her, careful not to look at Jill. "I know it because I'd seen it when we were on a date once - he used to follow her around. It was the Sunset Inn."
Jacobi was already on the phone. "Hell if he's that bold," he commented.
"Why are you here?" Jill whispered to Hanson. "No one really cares about anything but the murders at this point."
"Why are you?" he countered with the familiar jovial smile. "It's not like there's any suspect in this room, is there? As far as I'm concerned, I just wanted to see you. You haven't been around much lately."
Jill rolled her eyes at him, but she struggled to keep her voice level as she said, "You heard about Cindy Thomas."
He nodded. "Good luck finding her." It sounded genuinely honest, enough for her face to relax into a tight smile.
***
"I didn't see much... it was dark... black van." The fact that the woman was able to form these words bordered on a miracle, however Lindsay couldn't bring herself to feel celebratory yet. No one could say yet if Elizabeth Brennan's memory was affected even though she seemed surprisingly lucid. She was a fighter. Lindsay was grateful for that. She was also scared. This was already taking too long. Time was running out.
She held up a photograph of Atkinson. "Did you see this man?" The fear in the woman's eyes was all the answer she needed.
"Don't worry, he's currently sitting in a police station. Elizabeth... was there more than one?" When she saw Brennan struggling to form words, she added quickly, "You don't have to speak. Just blink once for 'yes', and twice for 'no', can you do that for me?"
The woman blinked once.
"Were there more men at the place?"
Once, again. "Did you see him?" Lindsay asked, showing her a picture of Jarrod Peters. Elizabeth blinked twice. Had she even understood the question?
Her lips moved again, and Lindsay leaned closer for the faintest chance to understand her. The woman was getting tired, and this seemed like the last chance today getting any information. The last chance before it was too late. "Younger..." Brennan whispered.
What the hell did that mean? Were they looking at another suspect?
"Can you describe him to me?" Lindsay felt slightly guilty for putting all the pressure possible on a woman who'd escaped death twice, but she had no choice. In Elizabeth Brennan's eyes she read something familiar: A stubborn resolve. Neither of them was ready to give up yet.
***
The call hadn't come yet. Claire knew that as long as that hadn't happened, as long as she didn't know that Cindy was safe and alive, she wouldn't be able to direct her thoughts to anything else, so she'd gone over the contents of the crime scenes again. Fibers, samples, there wasn't a lack of them, but nothing to point at the perps. They had been damn careful. Which suggested that either the murders of Sybil Kramer and Magdalene Sandoval hadn't been the first, or they had been planning them for a while.
The first crime scene - the Paradise Inn. The towels in the bathroom had been of the same kind as the one that had been found in Peters' basement.
Where was the connection between these men, and who was behind the plan in the first place?
Were they looking at a 'club' of murdering ex-husbands feeling entitled and how did the peeping Tom hotel manager fit into it?
He had access to reservations. He had admitted to spying on guests.
She put the CD from the surveillance camera into the player, opening the file from the night after the murder, and started when the content was entirely different from what she had expected. This wasn't a tape from the hotel, but an amateur video showing Cindy on the stairs of the building that housed Unforgettable, together with a blonde woman in her forties.
Her confusion rose when she saw Jacobi showing up and talking briefly to the women, before the picture went black. Who had replaced the CD and who had filmed Cindy on her first night out at Unforgettable?
***
Elizabeth Brennan had managed a couple of more words before exhaustion overwhelmed her and the doctor had chased Lindsay out of the room. "Melissa... cabin." She remembered the name of the concierge at the Paradise Inn, and minutes later, she'd snatched Melissa Callum out of her shift where the young woman tearfully confessed that she was afraid that Graham could have done something bad.
She'd found him and Peters spying on the guests; that had been before she had dated him twice. One of the tapes got lost, and he got very mad. Melissa had overheard a phone call between him and somebody named Jarrod... at that point, Lindsay was ready to shake her.
"Ms. Brennan said something about a cabin. What do you know about that?"
"It's Graham's. He likes to go hunting."
I bet he does., Lindsay thought grimly. "You show me." She called it in, requested back up and then turned on the siren, pulling out of the parking lot with screeching tires.
***
She was shaking. So hard she could barely keep her fist closed around the substance in her hand, and she'd almost forgotten what good it wood do when the moment arrived, but Cindy held on to it anywa.y.
The coarse rope had cut painfully deep into her skin, but finally she'd slipped her hand out, the only thing she could grab a handful of soil from a near pot plant.
It was all the time she had before Jarrod Peters walked back into the room after an angry call on his cell phone outside the door where he told the person on the other end of the line to get their ass over here. Cindy didn't want to wait for that moment.
She tightened her fingers around the handful of soil, and then the door opened.
***
Lindsay had turned off the siren before they came into earshot and parked at a safe distance in the parking lot of a diner. Backup was close.
She couldn't wait that long though.
"You stay here," she told Melissa Callum who was watching her anxiously. "My colleagues are going to be here in less than five minutes. It's going to be alright."
God, how much she hoped that.
***
"Mr. Turner, I'm afraid we have a few more questions for you." Jacobi walked up to the man with quick strides; Graham Turner nervously backed away, glancing over his shoulder, only to run into Fong who was right behind him.
"I think you heard my colleague," Fong remarked. "Why don't you tell us from the beginning?"
***
"Bitch! I'll get you for this!"
Lindsay heard the voice coming from a lower level of the cabin, and it sent shivers down her spine. Whatever was going on down there, from now, minutes counted. She ran.
The first room at the bottom of the stage was empty once more, but with the camera set up, she could easily guess what it was meant for.
"Don't think you can hide from me!" she heard Peters's angry voice. "Slut, you're gonna get what's comingto you."
Don't think you can hide from me, Lindsay thought, moving further into the dark hallway.
***
She shouldn't have tried to hide inside the damn house. As she cowered inside the utility room, Cindy knew she had made a mistake. It wasn't a very big cabin. He would find her and do everything he'd threatened earlier, and her desperate attempt to get away had only made him madder.
She remembered Lindsay describing him as a choleric. At the thought of her, Cindy's resolve began to crumble and she started to cry. She pressed her hand against her mouth as if that would help her at all. Maybe it had been foolish of her to think she could do this self-assigned undercover job - not that her editor had minded when she'd told him she had an in.
She could feel every bruise on her body, and there'd be a lot more before... Cindy curled up further into herself, wishing she'd had at least the chance to say goodbye. No, that wasn't right. She'd wanted so much more... She didn't want to say goodbye anytime soon. Reaching behind her, her fingers encountering a cool smooth object.
She could hear him outside now.
***
There was a heartwrenching scream and a shot rang out. Lt. Hogan hurried down the stairs, the SWAT team on this heels as they neared the source of both.
Jarrod Peters lay on the ground, his injuries not keeping him from uttering expletives. There were dark smugdes on his face like camouflage, his eyes reddened. The gunshot would seemed painful but not life-threatening, just as the cut on his arm dripping blood.
Tom's eyes fell on the woman cowering in the corner, clutching a pair of blood-smeared garden shears in her equally bloody hands. She looked bad with the dirty nightgown and her hair disheveled, but thank God she was alive.
He watched Lindsay approaching her, talking to her softly as if addressing a frightened child.
"It's okay. It's over now." She dropped to her knees beside the younger woman, waiting patiently until Cindy finally laid the scissors into her hand. Lindsay put them on the floor and then drew her into an embrace very carefully.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He turned away, stifling a smile as he addressed the leader of the SWAT team.
***
Lindsay didn't want to let go, but at some point, she had to, and she had to have lost some time, too, because hse had a hard time remembering how she'd gotten here into the waiting room of Mission Cross North, exhausted beyond reason and blood on her hands and clothes that wasn't her own.
Tom had called Claire and Jill who, as it seemed, had dropped everything and simply got here. Times like this she remembered why she'd once loved him. He could just take care of things without making a fuss when needed. For sure, she loved her friends, but at the moment she just felt incapable of interaction of any kind, like she was in a fog. "I just want to see her," she insisted, wincing at the sound of her voice.
Claire exchanged a look with Jill, then she got up to lay and arm around Lindsay's shoulders, "Sure, Sweetie," she said. "But first, let's get you cleaned up a little."
***
Jill went outside to take Tom's call. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked without preamble, and she smiled a little even as her vision got blurry.
"Pretty beaten up, but yes, I think she will be." She was aware though that he probably hadn't called her because of that in the first place. She knew she probably should be worried, but she was too tired for the sentiment.
"That's good. There's something you should know. All the information that would connect Bradshaw to prostitution - it got lost."
"What?"
A couple of nurses just coming from their shift turned into her direction curiously, and Jill walked a few more steps away. "I mean, how?"
"My guess is as good as yours. With Magdalene Sandoval's name on that list, I can't help thinking it might be for the better. The only copies that exist now should be with Bradshaw herself and Cindy Thomas."
"I understand." She did, everything he had and had not said. "There'll be no case against her," she concluded.
"Other than the questionable handling of security, I don't know what you could charge her with."
"Alright. Thanks for telling me."
"You're welcome. Good night."
***
Washing her hands and face and putting on a a fresh shirt in the visitors' bathroom had done wonders for her mental state. It was even better when she could finally sit in the chair next to Cindy's bed, their fingers touching... not that Cindy was aware. It was Lindsay who needed the contact badly, just as before in Turner's cabin where she'd held Cindy on the dirty basement floor.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have done better."
"That's bullshit and you know it." Claire's voice behind her made her jump. She's alive because of you."
Lindsay shook her head, the memory of the moments in that basement - finding Peters standing over Cindy, the brief fight until she finally managed to pull the trigger - starting to get fuzzy. "Why can't I keep her safe?" The question was exposing, making her feel naked and uncomfortable even with her best friend as the only witness.
"You do," Claire assured, "but you can't keep her from doing her job."
Staring at the woman she'd fallen in love with long before she could acknowledge it, Lindsay took in each bruise. This wasn't supposed to be Cindy's job. She wanted to say it out loud, but knew that her voice wouldn't obey her, so she just pressed her hand against her face, willing to hold back the maelstrom of emotions.
***
"Turner came up with the idea, then he looked for interested accomplices on the internet. Unforgettable was supposed to be the first target only." Jill shook her head. "Like a murdering club of homophobic assholes."
"Well, they didn't count on our club," Cindy said, earning some chuckles. She looked tired, but between Chinese take-out and the final hashing out of the case, they could almost make themselves believe that this was business as usual.
She was writing her story out of sick leave though, and Lindsay had taken off some time too to spend with her. What Cindy had been through wouldn't be as easily erased as a name in a file, Jill thought with a shudder.
Still, she was so very grateful. Lindsay caught her gaze, giving her a knowing smile.
They'd make it through, all of them, even if some things would take a while longer.
***
"That's not what I meant when I talked about fulfilling fantasies," Cindy said dejectedly. She'd woken up crying for the third time tonight, on top of having trouble falling asleep anyway. Peters hadn't just hit her in the face. She still hurt all over.
Lindsay eased closer carefully, laying an arm around her waist, mindful of her battered state. The blatant tenderness only made Cindy want to cry harder. "I'm a mess."
"You're doing fine," Lindsay whispered, a merciful white lie that Cindy just couldn't let go.
"I'm keeping you up all night," she pointed out, frustrated. "Why are you even putting up with all this crap?"
"That's a rhetorical question, I hope." Lindsay's dry tone relaxed her some, and she actually had to smile.
It was, she knew, because Lindsay had had all the chances to back away if she wanted to. She hadn't done so in the past couple of weeks, not even during the nights when neither of them had gotten any sleep at all. "I know," she said, cuddling closer, "you haven't forgotten what I promised about free specials, right?"
"Sure." Lindsay laughed, but her tone was serious when she continued, "You have no idea how special you are to me."
Cindy found that she didn't have anything to argue with that, nor did she want to. "We both have a few days left. Why don't we just go... I don't know, somewhere?"
"I'd like that," Lindsay said. "There's just one more thing I'll have to do."
***
They had planned to leave after breakfast with the girls, but before that, Lindsay excused herself, leaving Cindy in the safe company of her friends as she had one more visit to make.
Lucinda Bradshaw poured herself a glass of champagne, pointing to another, empty one as Lindsay entered her office. "Have one too." There was a song playing on the stereo, eerily appropriate, Natalie Cole's Starting Over Again. Lindsay thought that she'd never be able to listen to her songs the same way again. She shook her head. "No thanks, I'm on duty," she lied. "I'll take some of that imported Indian tea if it's not too much of a hassle."
"It's fine. There you go." Of course, she had some ready, too. Bradshaw was a businesswoman through and through, always everything available for a contract. For a while, they sipped their drinks in silence. "Strange," Lindsay said, "how all the files on your side business got lost. Strange, but convenient. The DA's office won't bother now trying to put a case against you together. They're busy with the murders as it is."
Lucinda smiled cordially. "I'd call it a lucky coincidence. I'm sure Jill appreciates it too."
"She sure does. So basically, your business is safe now."
"I'm thinking that's the conclusion to which your colleagues came. Give my regards to Inspector Jacobi, please."
"I'll do that. Ms. Bradshaw, you won't be taking the risk and rebuild that section, right?"
"I'm not planning on it right now," Lucinda said with a shrug, but Lindsay wouldn't have wanted to see that answer spelled out in graphics on a polygraph right now. She let it go like she'd known she would. "Though, I must say, I hate to lose Cindy. She's a natural, such a charming girl."
Lindsay could barely stop her lips from twitching into a smile, and she could tell from the escort owner's knowing expression that she was aware of it too. Thinking of Cindy though also reminded her of the nightmares that wouldn't be past them for a while to come though.
"I could tell you knew her from the first time I saw you together," Lucinsa confessed. "I was guessing ex-lovers. You've got that possessive-protective thing going on where she is concerned. Now that I think about it, I'm sure it wasn't Inspector Jacobi's idea to have her arrested on fake charges on her first night."
Feeling fairly uncomfortable with being figured ou so easily, Linday countered, "She nearly got tortured and killed. It makes a person feel that way. I've been to each of those crimes scenes, and I knew what they'd planned for her."
Lucinda nodded somberly. There was a hint of warning in her voice, though, when she asked, "I protect my girls, too. None of them will have a prostitution charge hanging over their heads. Right?"
"That's right," Lindsay confirmed. She could just imagine Hanson coming up with terms of witchhunt and sexism in that case. She didn't care to go there. "Thanks for the tea," she said, getting up. "You might want to invest in better security. Protect them better. I would like to convince myself that you do."
"I'm on it. Also - thank you for catching these sons of bitches."
"My pleasure."
"Take good care of that girl of yours."
This time, Lindsay allowed the smile to show. "I plan to," she said as she drew the door closed behind her.
***
Author: Demeter
Fandom: Women's Murder Club
Pairing: Lindsay/Cindy
Summary: When a client and employee of an escort service get murdered, the club's investigations lead to unexpected revelations.
A/N: There you go, the last part. That wasn't so hard, was it? ;)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
"The alibi doesn't pan out. That will be enough of a probable cause to keep him for a bit, right?" Lindsay asked hopefully.
"I think so." Denise Kwon gave her a curious look. "So why is it that you woke me at 2 AM and not Bernhardt?"
"Her cell phone is turned off," Lindsay gave the honest answer which prompted a wry smile from the acting D.A. Then she frowned. "Are you sure everything's okay? It's unusual. The case could break any day now... and I'm sure she'll know it first anyway."
Lindsay ignored the slight barb, wondering if Denise was actually worried about Jill. And, if she had reason to. But no, Jill and Cindy were just out for a night of fun. Nothing would happen, especially since she believed the murderer of the three women to sit in a holding cell right now. She still wanted to talk to Peters, but Atkinson seemed more like a man who could come up with and realize those scenes.
"I am sure."
She knew her words to be a lie seconds before the ring of her cell phone startled them both.
"Jill?"
"I just got home and I got this... picture. I'm so sorry." Her friend's voice was thick with tears.
"Okay, calm down, I'm coming to pick you up," she said intently. "Where is Cindy?"
***
"Linda!" Lucinda Bradshaw was visibly startled. "I didn't expect you until later." Giving Lindsay the onceover, she added, "I almost didn't recognize you, but the casual style suits you."
"Thanks." Lindsay wasn't about to waste any more time with niceties, so she flashed her badge at the woman. "Inspector Lindsay Boxer, SFPD."
"Wow. You lied to me, and you did it well," Lucinda said dryly. " Do you think I murdered the women? They were like family to me!"
"You are not under suspicion for murder. However, it was probably your side business that attracted the killer's attention."
"My side - oh my. Cindy, is she a cop, too?"
If the situation hadn't been as serious as it was, Lindsay would have allowed a moment of pride. "She's a reporter."
"So you think what we do justifies this sick bastard's actions? Because it's not completely in tune with your laws?" Bradshaw challenged. She shook her head. "What kind of world are you living in? We offer a discreet and safe space."
"Safe? Three women have died, a fourth has been traumatized to the point she can't talk about what she's seen. That's hardly safe. Tell me, do you recognize the name Jill Bernhardt?"
"Is she okay?" Lucinda asked, alarmed.
"Yes, she is. But he's got Cindy."
"Oh God."
Lindsay understood the sentiment all too well, but she couldn't give in to it now. Cindy's life depended on her ability to function. "I need your help," she said.
Lucinda nodded grimly. "Anything," she promised.
***
"Jill. This is not you fault." Lindsay grasped both of Jill's arms for emphasis. She didn' mind being the one who needed to give comfort as at the moment, it kept her from falling apart.
"He saw us together." Jill's eyes were glistening with tears. "We already know he had access to the files, then he knew Lucinda had offered Cindy the specialty spot. He put two and two together."
That was exactly what Lindsay had thought, only her reasoning was a different one. Jill couldn't be blamed for this mess just because she took Cindy on a girl's night out. If anything, it was on Lindsay as she could have damn well tried harder to keep Cindy away from Unforgettable.
She forced herself to take another look at the picture, enlarged and printed out, the kidnapper had sent to Jill's cell phone.
Cindy looked peaceful in her drugged sleep. She was barefoot, wearing a blue and white cotton nightgown. She was simply asleep; Lindsay knew, because she looked unharmed otherwise. The perp had always killed the escort first, but he'd wanted them aware. This picture had been taken half an hour ago.
There wasn't a lot of time.
It also meant that it couldn't have been Atkinson, or he had help all along. Which was likely.
"We'll find her," she said with more conviction than she had reason to, for her benefit just as much as Jill's. She picked up the picture again, resisting the urge to trace her fingers over like a caress. There wasn't time for this. Then she started, looking at it again.
"Jill? Come on, tell me you see this too."
***
Upon waking, Cindy wondered for a split-second why she was feeling so cold. When she opened her eyes, finding herself in a dark basement instead of her bedroom, panic set in as she tried to bolt upright, but was brought up short by the rope around her wrists.
There wasn't much to see, nothing to clue her in as to who had taken her and why. Not that it was so hard to figure out. With the way she'd been left here... Cindy swallowed hard. That's how convincing she'd been on her undercover gig.
Seemed like the killer had believed her.
***
A towel had been left carelessly at the foot of the bed, the stitching not readable, but Lindsay did recognize the coloring. "It belongs to the hotel where Magdalene and Sybil were found. Paradise Inn."
"But Alina was found in another hotel," Jill reminded her. "Where's the connection?"
"I don't know... yet. I need to go over the staff lists of both hotels again. See if anything clicks."
"Find me someone conspicious and I'll get you the warrant."
"You bet," Lindsay promised.
***
"You must be mistaken!" Graham Turner, the Paradise Inn's manager claimed. "Hell, it's so horrible anything like this happened here. We want our house to be a safe haven for our guests, and now it's the crime scene tourists we attract. Do you have any idea how much damage has been done to our reputation?"
"Forgive me if I only care about the damage done to the two women," Lindsay said sarcastically.
He was sweating. She was quite sure he was lying about something. The temptation to shake it out of him was alarmingly strong, especially given the fact that she knew, every minute counted for Cindy.
"You know something, Mr. Turner. You tell me now, or we could be here all night. By then, it'll be another death on you." She delivered the words coolly, in a matter-of-fact tone while the mere implications scared her witless. "He took another woman, Graham." Lindsay leaned closer to him, seeing his eyes widen. "We don't find her in time, I'll make it my personal mission to make sure you'll be put away for aiding and abetting a murderer, and do you want to know what's awaiting you then?"
"I didn't!" he shouted, beats of sweat running down his forehead. "God, I had no idea."
Lindsay took a step back and sat in her chair. "Okay. You help us, we're gonna help you, it's that easy. Don't even try to play games with me. I'm not in the mood."
***
Graham Turner had been working briefly in the hotel where Alina's body had been found, as a stand-in, which explained why it was in his file but not on the general list. Both the Paradise and the Sunset Inn belonged to the same chain. Jarrod Peters, Maria's husband, had had a temp job as a janitor for the Paradise Inn. He'd convinced Graham that they could both make a fortune by spying on the guests.
What he hadn't mentioned was that he was after one in particular, his ex-wife who had left him for a woman.
It all came down to Peters again. Graham claimed he had an adress that might not be known to the police as he'd visited Peters while they planned the placement of the bugs in the hotel rooms. "That's all I did," he insisted. "I didn't know he was killing those women."
Lindsay couldn't spare a moment to feel sorry for the man.
***
"San Francisco Police Department, open the door!" In the neighbor's garden, a dog barked. Otherwise, the scenery was eerrily silent.
Lindsay felt uncomfortably hot under the Kevlar, a drop of sweat sneaking down her spine. It was too damn silent. They couldn't be too late. She just couldn't afford the thought. Exchanging a look with Jacobi, she nodded, and they broke down the door, rushing into the house and immediately to the door leading to the basement. There hadn't been much light in the room Cindy had been held.
If Peters was hiding in there, he might be armed.
They crept down the uneven stairs cautiously, coming to a halt in front of the massive wooden door.
Lindsay gripped her gun tighter, trying the lock. The door swung open.
The room behind was clearly the one from the photograph. It was empty.
***
He held up the paper slip in front of her with an ugly grin. Cindy had seen those, not on the crime scenes where they'd been left, but on Atkinson's web site.
"Do you know what that means?"
She was shaking with fear, but still not giving him the satisfaction of talking to him, so Cindy just stared up at the man with as much defiance as she could muster, clad only in her nightgown and bound to the bed in this new room. A suite bedroom. He'd never planned to kill her in the basement, she realized.
"No? I guess you're gonna find out, bitch," he said,slapping her hard enough to make her lip split. "Soon enough."
He went over to the stereo and put the CD in the player. "Gonna be Unforgettable," he said, snickering. "Unfortunately, you won't be around to tell about it."
***
The room was darkened by a blanket hanging over the window, pipes running along the wall. The bed was a mere iron frame with a dirty mattress on it, the towel hanging over the foot. There were ropes still bound to the frame; pointing her flashlight at them, Lindsay could see the dark stains. Blood.
She straightened, looking around for any clues as to where the kidnapper might have moved. She was aware of the fear like a choking hold, but she couldn't give in to it now.
The ringing of her cell phone and Tom's name on the caller ID did nothing to improve her mood. "The house is empty. They've been here, but he took her elsewhere," she forewent any kind of greeting. "What is it?"
"I've got Ms. Bradshaw on the phone. She wants to talk to you."
"Put her on," Lindsay said curtly.
"Lindsay, I put the word out there with the girls to watch out for anyone suspicious. They know what Peters looks like. Katheryn saw him yesterday. She's on the way here."
"Okay. So am I." Before she could hang up though, Tom interrupted her again. "I'll send Jacobi and Fong. Linz, I want you at the hospital. Brennan just woke up."
Unfortunately, he knew her too well, thinking it was probably less likely for her to shake information out of a woman who'd been comatose until a while ago than with the man who was likely behind Cindy's abduction.
"Don't worry, Linds," he said. "I'll take care of Peters; if he knows where Cindy is, he's going to tell us. We'll find her."
"Thank you."
She hung up, probably too late for him to not detect the emotion in her voice. At the moment, Lindsay just didn't care.
***
Jill felt lightheaded as she followed Jacobi into the room behind Lucinda Bradshaw's office, a conference room with a table big enough for everyone gathered. Both were familiar even she hadn't been here for a while.
She nodded to Hanson North whom Lucinda had commissioned for her defense in the case of her 'specialty list', and cast a quick look at Katheryn who did a double take at the sight of her. Jill couldn't be worried about any secrets coming out now, the cold and anxious feeling that had taken hold of her since the first text message with the picture had arrived was all for Cindy.
According to Claire, none of the women had been killed right away, but the escorts had suffered torture for hours. Jill wanted nothing but find herself a quiet restroom and give in to the tears pressing behind her eyes, but she knew she couldn't. Doing her job was the only thing she could do to help Cindy now. So she would.
"I've seen Peters' car parked at a hotel," Katheryn told her, careful not to look at Jill. "I know it because I'd seen it when we were on a date once - he used to follow her around. It was the Sunset Inn."
Jacobi was already on the phone. "Hell if he's that bold," he commented.
"Why are you here?" Jill whispered to Hanson. "No one really cares about anything but the murders at this point."
"Why are you?" he countered with the familiar jovial smile. "It's not like there's any suspect in this room, is there? As far as I'm concerned, I just wanted to see you. You haven't been around much lately."
Jill rolled her eyes at him, but she struggled to keep her voice level as she said, "You heard about Cindy Thomas."
He nodded. "Good luck finding her." It sounded genuinely honest, enough for her face to relax into a tight smile.
***
"I didn't see much... it was dark... black van." The fact that the woman was able to form these words bordered on a miracle, however Lindsay couldn't bring herself to feel celebratory yet. No one could say yet if Elizabeth Brennan's memory was affected even though she seemed surprisingly lucid. She was a fighter. Lindsay was grateful for that. She was also scared. This was already taking too long. Time was running out.
She held up a photograph of Atkinson. "Did you see this man?" The fear in the woman's eyes was all the answer she needed.
"Don't worry, he's currently sitting in a police station. Elizabeth... was there more than one?" When she saw Brennan struggling to form words, she added quickly, "You don't have to speak. Just blink once for 'yes', and twice for 'no', can you do that for me?"
The woman blinked once.
"Were there more men at the place?"
Once, again. "Did you see him?" Lindsay asked, showing her a picture of Jarrod Peters. Elizabeth blinked twice. Had she even understood the question?
Her lips moved again, and Lindsay leaned closer for the faintest chance to understand her. The woman was getting tired, and this seemed like the last chance today getting any information. The last chance before it was too late. "Younger..." Brennan whispered.
What the hell did that mean? Were they looking at another suspect?
"Can you describe him to me?" Lindsay felt slightly guilty for putting all the pressure possible on a woman who'd escaped death twice, but she had no choice. In Elizabeth Brennan's eyes she read something familiar: A stubborn resolve. Neither of them was ready to give up yet.
***
The call hadn't come yet. Claire knew that as long as that hadn't happened, as long as she didn't know that Cindy was safe and alive, she wouldn't be able to direct her thoughts to anything else, so she'd gone over the contents of the crime scenes again. Fibers, samples, there wasn't a lack of them, but nothing to point at the perps. They had been damn careful. Which suggested that either the murders of Sybil Kramer and Magdalene Sandoval hadn't been the first, or they had been planning them for a while.
The first crime scene - the Paradise Inn. The towels in the bathroom had been of the same kind as the one that had been found in Peters' basement.
Where was the connection between these men, and who was behind the plan in the first place?
Were they looking at a 'club' of murdering ex-husbands feeling entitled and how did the peeping Tom hotel manager fit into it?
He had access to reservations. He had admitted to spying on guests.
She put the CD from the surveillance camera into the player, opening the file from the night after the murder, and started when the content was entirely different from what she had expected. This wasn't a tape from the hotel, but an amateur video showing Cindy on the stairs of the building that housed Unforgettable, together with a blonde woman in her forties.
Her confusion rose when she saw Jacobi showing up and talking briefly to the women, before the picture went black. Who had replaced the CD and who had filmed Cindy on her first night out at Unforgettable?
***
Elizabeth Brennan had managed a couple of more words before exhaustion overwhelmed her and the doctor had chased Lindsay out of the room. "Melissa... cabin." She remembered the name of the concierge at the Paradise Inn, and minutes later, she'd snatched Melissa Callum out of her shift where the young woman tearfully confessed that she was afraid that Graham could have done something bad.
She'd found him and Peters spying on the guests; that had been before she had dated him twice. One of the tapes got lost, and he got very mad. Melissa had overheard a phone call between him and somebody named Jarrod... at that point, Lindsay was ready to shake her.
"Ms. Brennan said something about a cabin. What do you know about that?"
"It's Graham's. He likes to go hunting."
I bet he does., Lindsay thought grimly. "You show me." She called it in, requested back up and then turned on the siren, pulling out of the parking lot with screeching tires.
***
She was shaking. So hard she could barely keep her fist closed around the substance in her hand, and she'd almost forgotten what good it wood do when the moment arrived, but Cindy held on to it anywa.y.
The coarse rope had cut painfully deep into her skin, but finally she'd slipped her hand out, the only thing she could grab a handful of soil from a near pot plant.
It was all the time she had before Jarrod Peters walked back into the room after an angry call on his cell phone outside the door where he told the person on the other end of the line to get their ass over here. Cindy didn't want to wait for that moment.
She tightened her fingers around the handful of soil, and then the door opened.
***
Lindsay had turned off the siren before they came into earshot and parked at a safe distance in the parking lot of a diner. Backup was close.
She couldn't wait that long though.
"You stay here," she told Melissa Callum who was watching her anxiously. "My colleagues are going to be here in less than five minutes. It's going to be alright."
God, how much she hoped that.
***
"Mr. Turner, I'm afraid we have a few more questions for you." Jacobi walked up to the man with quick strides; Graham Turner nervously backed away, glancing over his shoulder, only to run into Fong who was right behind him.
"I think you heard my colleague," Fong remarked. "Why don't you tell us from the beginning?"
***
"Bitch! I'll get you for this!"
Lindsay heard the voice coming from a lower level of the cabin, and it sent shivers down her spine. Whatever was going on down there, from now, minutes counted. She ran.
The first room at the bottom of the stage was empty once more, but with the camera set up, she could easily guess what it was meant for.
"Don't think you can hide from me!" she heard Peters's angry voice. "Slut, you're gonna get what's comingto you."
Don't think you can hide from me, Lindsay thought, moving further into the dark hallway.
***
She shouldn't have tried to hide inside the damn house. As she cowered inside the utility room, Cindy knew she had made a mistake. It wasn't a very big cabin. He would find her and do everything he'd threatened earlier, and her desperate attempt to get away had only made him madder.
She remembered Lindsay describing him as a choleric. At the thought of her, Cindy's resolve began to crumble and she started to cry. She pressed her hand against her mouth as if that would help her at all. Maybe it had been foolish of her to think she could do this self-assigned undercover job - not that her editor had minded when she'd told him she had an in.
She could feel every bruise on her body, and there'd be a lot more before... Cindy curled up further into herself, wishing she'd had at least the chance to say goodbye. No, that wasn't right. She'd wanted so much more... She didn't want to say goodbye anytime soon. Reaching behind her, her fingers encountering a cool smooth object.
She could hear him outside now.
***
There was a heartwrenching scream and a shot rang out. Lt. Hogan hurried down the stairs, the SWAT team on this heels as they neared the source of both.
Jarrod Peters lay on the ground, his injuries not keeping him from uttering expletives. There were dark smugdes on his face like camouflage, his eyes reddened. The gunshot would seemed painful but not life-threatening, just as the cut on his arm dripping blood.
Tom's eyes fell on the woman cowering in the corner, clutching a pair of blood-smeared garden shears in her equally bloody hands. She looked bad with the dirty nightgown and her hair disheveled, but thank God she was alive.
He watched Lindsay approaching her, talking to her softly as if addressing a frightened child.
"It's okay. It's over now." She dropped to her knees beside the younger woman, waiting patiently until Cindy finally laid the scissors into her hand. Lindsay put them on the floor and then drew her into an embrace very carefully.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He turned away, stifling a smile as he addressed the leader of the SWAT team.
***
Lindsay didn't want to let go, but at some point, she had to, and she had to have lost some time, too, because hse had a hard time remembering how she'd gotten here into the waiting room of Mission Cross North, exhausted beyond reason and blood on her hands and clothes that wasn't her own.
Tom had called Claire and Jill who, as it seemed, had dropped everything and simply got here. Times like this she remembered why she'd once loved him. He could just take care of things without making a fuss when needed. For sure, she loved her friends, but at the moment she just felt incapable of interaction of any kind, like she was in a fog. "I just want to see her," she insisted, wincing at the sound of her voice.
Claire exchanged a look with Jill, then she got up to lay and arm around Lindsay's shoulders, "Sure, Sweetie," she said. "But first, let's get you cleaned up a little."
***
Jill went outside to take Tom's call. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked without preamble, and she smiled a little even as her vision got blurry.
"Pretty beaten up, but yes, I think she will be." She was aware though that he probably hadn't called her because of that in the first place. She knew she probably should be worried, but she was too tired for the sentiment.
"That's good. There's something you should know. All the information that would connect Bradshaw to prostitution - it got lost."
"What?"
A couple of nurses just coming from their shift turned into her direction curiously, and Jill walked a few more steps away. "I mean, how?"
"My guess is as good as yours. With Magdalene Sandoval's name on that list, I can't help thinking it might be for the better. The only copies that exist now should be with Bradshaw herself and Cindy Thomas."
"I understand." She did, everything he had and had not said. "There'll be no case against her," she concluded.
"Other than the questionable handling of security, I don't know what you could charge her with."
"Alright. Thanks for telling me."
"You're welcome. Good night."
***
Washing her hands and face and putting on a a fresh shirt in the visitors' bathroom had done wonders for her mental state. It was even better when she could finally sit in the chair next to Cindy's bed, their fingers touching... not that Cindy was aware. It was Lindsay who needed the contact badly, just as before in Turner's cabin where she'd held Cindy on the dirty basement floor.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have done better."
"That's bullshit and you know it." Claire's voice behind her made her jump. She's alive because of you."
Lindsay shook her head, the memory of the moments in that basement - finding Peters standing over Cindy, the brief fight until she finally managed to pull the trigger - starting to get fuzzy. "Why can't I keep her safe?" The question was exposing, making her feel naked and uncomfortable even with her best friend as the only witness.
"You do," Claire assured, "but you can't keep her from doing her job."
Staring at the woman she'd fallen in love with long before she could acknowledge it, Lindsay took in each bruise. This wasn't supposed to be Cindy's job. She wanted to say it out loud, but knew that her voice wouldn't obey her, so she just pressed her hand against her face, willing to hold back the maelstrom of emotions.
***
"Turner came up with the idea, then he looked for interested accomplices on the internet. Unforgettable was supposed to be the first target only." Jill shook her head. "Like a murdering club of homophobic assholes."
"Well, they didn't count on our club," Cindy said, earning some chuckles. She looked tired, but between Chinese take-out and the final hashing out of the case, they could almost make themselves believe that this was business as usual.
She was writing her story out of sick leave though, and Lindsay had taken off some time too to spend with her. What Cindy had been through wouldn't be as easily erased as a name in a file, Jill thought with a shudder.
Still, she was so very grateful. Lindsay caught her gaze, giving her a knowing smile.
They'd make it through, all of them, even if some things would take a while longer.
***
"That's not what I meant when I talked about fulfilling fantasies," Cindy said dejectedly. She'd woken up crying for the third time tonight, on top of having trouble falling asleep anyway. Peters hadn't just hit her in the face. She still hurt all over.
Lindsay eased closer carefully, laying an arm around her waist, mindful of her battered state. The blatant tenderness only made Cindy want to cry harder. "I'm a mess."
"You're doing fine," Lindsay whispered, a merciful white lie that Cindy just couldn't let go.
"I'm keeping you up all night," she pointed out, frustrated. "Why are you even putting up with all this crap?"
"That's a rhetorical question, I hope." Lindsay's dry tone relaxed her some, and she actually had to smile.
It was, she knew, because Lindsay had had all the chances to back away if she wanted to. She hadn't done so in the past couple of weeks, not even during the nights when neither of them had gotten any sleep at all. "I know," she said, cuddling closer, "you haven't forgotten what I promised about free specials, right?"
"Sure." Lindsay laughed, but her tone was serious when she continued, "You have no idea how special you are to me."
Cindy found that she didn't have anything to argue with that, nor did she want to. "We both have a few days left. Why don't we just go... I don't know, somewhere?"
"I'd like that," Lindsay said. "There's just one more thing I'll have to do."
***
They had planned to leave after breakfast with the girls, but before that, Lindsay excused herself, leaving Cindy in the safe company of her friends as she had one more visit to make.
Lucinda Bradshaw poured herself a glass of champagne, pointing to another, empty one as Lindsay entered her office. "Have one too." There was a song playing on the stereo, eerily appropriate, Natalie Cole's Starting Over Again. Lindsay thought that she'd never be able to listen to her songs the same way again. She shook her head. "No thanks, I'm on duty," she lied. "I'll take some of that imported Indian tea if it's not too much of a hassle."
"It's fine. There you go." Of course, she had some ready, too. Bradshaw was a businesswoman through and through, always everything available for a contract. For a while, they sipped their drinks in silence. "Strange," Lindsay said, "how all the files on your side business got lost. Strange, but convenient. The DA's office won't bother now trying to put a case against you together. They're busy with the murders as it is."
Lucinda smiled cordially. "I'd call it a lucky coincidence. I'm sure Jill appreciates it too."
"She sure does. So basically, your business is safe now."
"I'm thinking that's the conclusion to which your colleagues came. Give my regards to Inspector Jacobi, please."
"I'll do that. Ms. Bradshaw, you won't be taking the risk and rebuild that section, right?"
"I'm not planning on it right now," Lucinda said with a shrug, but Lindsay wouldn't have wanted to see that answer spelled out in graphics on a polygraph right now. She let it go like she'd known she would. "Though, I must say, I hate to lose Cindy. She's a natural, such a charming girl."
Lindsay could barely stop her lips from twitching into a smile, and she could tell from the escort owner's knowing expression that she was aware of it too. Thinking of Cindy though also reminded her of the nightmares that wouldn't be past them for a while to come though.
"I could tell you knew her from the first time I saw you together," Lucinsa confessed. "I was guessing ex-lovers. You've got that possessive-protective thing going on where she is concerned. Now that I think about it, I'm sure it wasn't Inspector Jacobi's idea to have her arrested on fake charges on her first night."
Feeling fairly uncomfortable with being figured ou so easily, Linday countered, "She nearly got tortured and killed. It makes a person feel that way. I've been to each of those crimes scenes, and I knew what they'd planned for her."
Lucinda nodded somberly. There was a hint of warning in her voice, though, when she asked, "I protect my girls, too. None of them will have a prostitution charge hanging over their heads. Right?"
"That's right," Lindsay confirmed. She could just imagine Hanson coming up with terms of witchhunt and sexism in that case. She didn't care to go there. "Thanks for the tea," she said, getting up. "You might want to invest in better security. Protect them better. I would like to convince myself that you do."
"I'm on it. Also - thank you for catching these sons of bitches."
"My pleasure."
"Take good care of that girl of yours."
This time, Lindsay allowed the smile to show. "I plan to," she said as she drew the door closed behind her.
***