Here's to the Night - Ch. 5

[whedonist]

Fandom: Nikki & Nora

Pairing: Nikki & Nora

Rating: PG-13 to R (depends on the chapter)

Title:Here’s to the Night – Ch. 5 – Inopportune

Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not my intellectual property. They belong to Nancylee Myatt and other people that I don’t associate with. If they were mine, Nikki & Nora would still be in production and we would all be very very happy. This is for fun…read - me mucking about for some entertainment in another person’s sandbox, not for money. While this has been beta’d, we’re not perfect and I accept full responsibility for all mistakes.

A/N: This isn’t the version that I had finalized, but at some point between going to bed at two a.m. and waking up at six a.m. something f*&ked up my flash drive and I’ve lost about four weeks worth of work. Because I’m still working on trying to recover the data that was lost, I did have a draft that I got back from my beta. I’ve tweaked and made it as close to the finalized chapter as I could…*sigh* Worst case, I have to rewrite the entire last chapter from scratch…eh well. Thank you to my long suffering beta, the poor bastard has to put up with my awful spelling, bless you Dirk! Lastly, read and enjoy and a heartfelt thank you to those that are reading.

Chapter 5 – Inopportune

Fleeing Charlie’s office, I take off for the steps and go up a flight, hang a right at the landing and barge through the last door on my left. I haven’t had a lot of time to get to know Benton Faunce, the man that’s responsible for developing and helping to analyze the majority of the cases the forensics team processes, but the few run-ins we’ve had have been pleasant.

He’s smart and good natured and a little… funny – funny in the weird way not funny in the ha-ha way. Like always, when Nora and I have had to come to him, he’s working on the computer, cleaning up digital photographs or analyzing some other piece of information pulled from a scene.

He looks up and grins as I wrap on the open door making my presence known and grins. “Detective Beaumont, what a nice surprise.”

I smile back and say, “Well, it’s good to know that I’m liked, but Benton, I will admit to having ulterior motives.” I take the dark mocha colored hand being offered in greeting and shake it gently.

“I suppose that’s alright,” he says, releasing my hand and offering me a stool to sit on. As I sit he asks, “Where is Detective Delaney?”

I can’t stop the laugh that comes through and I shake my head. It seems that Nora attracts men of the African American persuasion. Between Dan and Benton then the few times we’ve been to watch Darius perform, a few of his friends have hit on her. But Benton has made his intentions quite clear. It’s really quite funny. Maybe one day she’ll tell him the reasons that she can’t.

“Nora’s working on another case, unfortunately, but I will tell her you send your regards.” I grin at him and he ducks his head.

Men are really so easy.

“Now, on to my ulterior motives,” I say and set the file on the lab table. “I was reviewing the photos from that double homicide, the Heidecker case.”

“Did you find something?” he perks up now, a light coming into his eyes. “I haven’t had time to go through the photos and do the analysis on the spatter patterns. I’ve been swamped with a case in trial and the district attorney is being a son of a bear about it. It was next on my stack though.”

“Well, I don’t really know which is why I’m here.” I pull the photograph from the stack and hand it to him. Pointing out the hand print, I ask, “Can you zoom in on this and confirm what I think it is?”

“Depends on what you think it is?”

“A hand print. A child’s.” My face sours with the need to understand.

“We can blow it up. What’s the case number?” he asks rolling over to a different keyboard and monitor.

“Thirteen dash seven-sixty-four.”

He nods and types in the numbers. A file with thumbnail photographs pops up and he looks at the photo I handed him. Selecting the corresponding file, he opens it and the image is blown up on the screen. I stand and look over his shoulder as he zooms in on the image.

He hems and haws a second before saying, “I would confirm with Charlie, but that looks like a hand print to me. Do you have the rest of the photos?”

“I do,” I answer.

“Can I see them a minute?” he asks, spinning around and going to a board that holds another set of photos and begins taking them down.

I hand him my file and he begins putting up the photos. I watch as the crime scene is recreated before us.

“Here’s what gets me,” he says and I’m not sure if he’s talking more to himself or to me, but I offer an encouraging sound before he continues, “All of those stupid C.S.I. shows or NCIS or whatever they’ve got on TV now are just pretty damn funny. What government agency, barring one or two units at the F.B.I., has the money to spend on equipment like that? Besides which half of it is bunk science anyhow, then to top it off, you get lab geeks, and yes I know I’m a lab geek out there with guns running people down…I mean really, what world are they living in?”

His hands go to his hips and he shakes his head looking over the collage. “You know what would happen if you gave our forensics unit guns? They’d shoot their toes off.”

I snort and chuckle at his accurate interpretation of what exactly would happen. Honestly, that always gets me too. There’s a reason why the department is broken up into Units.

“Hmmm,” he hums and goes to squint at a few photos. Turning away from the board he goes to his computer, pulls up the digital copies of the photos, selects a few and drops them into a new window.

Admittedly, some computer stuff is lost on me. This is one of them.

“Alright, this is going to take me some time,” he says.

“What?”

“I want to do a three-d model of the scene. I would do it anyhow so are you going to be around later today?” He finally turns to look at me and I see the cogs in his head turning.

“I’ll be around all day today. I know you hate to say anything not confirmed, but Benton, you think you could tell me what you see?”

He sighs and runs a hand over the top of his head. “Alright,” he finally says standing and going back to the photos. Pointing at two he indicates the spatter against the walls. “If you look here and here. The spatter patterns indicate that the attack responsible for this set of blood drops was fast, mean. These here,” he indicates a large section of the wall where blood sprays cover over a third of it, “are what we call medium velocity spatter, this tells me that the blood was traveling at a velocity of a between five to twenty-five feet per second.”

He then moves to the other photographs and points to another area of spatter. “These patterns here are not medium velocity. These are low velocity sprays which travel at a free fall rate to a max of five feet per second.”

“And you can tell this how?” I ask.

“Medium velocity spatter has a diameter of less than three millimeters per drop, but usually no less than one. You also have to be able to identify the difference between the originating spatter, splatter and cast off. Low velocity spatter has a diameter of three millimeters per drop or greater,” he answers.

Still not seeing the big deal, “And…?” I ask.

He gives a short laugh and shakes his head. “And…what this tells me is that whoever the killer is took their time after they gave the first few strikes. Looking at the bodies, I think it’s safe to assume the weapon used was a knife. So if you look at the woman, she was stabbed in the neck, hitting the jugular vein. Now, I need to confirm with Charlie but just from a cursory glance and the trajectory of the spatter patterns, my bet is that the killer hit the neck first. That would have been enough to issue a killing blow.

Now, here’s the thing. That first strike, if I’m right, is where the medium velocity spatter comes from. The other,” he points to another photo and the spatter, “came with the other strikes, but it also came at a lower velocity. Meaning, less force was used to deliver the other wounds, less rage.”

I chew on my lower lip, putting together what he said, trying to recreate the scene in my mind. “So, the first blow was vicious. The rest were, what, slower…” my mouth falls open a little as his implications sink in, “The rest of the blows were deliberate and playful.”

“Exactly,” he says grinning at me. Becoming a little more excited at my insight he continues, “Also, given the elongation of the patterns and the tails of the spatter, the blood that trails behind the main drop, the lines here” he says pointing to the tails on a few drops, “I can tell you with sufficient accuracy the convergence point…”

“Refresh my memory again, darlin’. As you know Nora’s the one that gets this a bit better than me.”

“Right, the convergence point just gives me the location of the origination of the spatter. So where the victim was standing which will also give me the height of the attacker.” He rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands in his pockets raising his eyebrows at me.

“Okay I’ll bite, how tall do you think the attacker was?” I inquire, feeling the knot in my tummy clench a little more.

“Four and a half to five feet tall. Charlie’s autopsy will actually provide the definitive answer given the angle of the stab wounds but your victims were either attacked by a little person or the killer was kneeling.”

---

I drum my fingers along the glass of the display case waiting for the sales lady to bring my order from the back. I look over at Ann eyeing up one of the cases, a ring case and smirk. I would like to get out of here and grab some lunch. I would have liked to do that with Nikki, but when I called her she was out with her temporary partner chasing down a lead.

“Ms. Delaney,” Mary, the lady that’s helped me over the past three weeks, comes from the back holding a small shopping bag. “Here you are.”

I smile and take the bag from her, saying, “Thank you.”

“Was there anything else that I can do for you?” Mary smiles at me and my mouth twitches into a smile. She’s got the look on her that says she wants a bigger commission.

She’s been pleasant enough so I turn to ask Ann, “Do you see anything you like?”

Ann looks at me and shrugs. “Meh, Jill’s birthday’s already past but Christmas is coming up.”

I go over and look at the rings she was browsing. All of them platinum with very few diamonds.

“She hates gold and she’s not big on diamonds, but she likes other gem stones. They have a sapphire ring that I think she’d like.” Ann chews her lip nervously.

“Which one?” I inquire. She points to a delicate ring that looks like vines with small flowers on it. The centers of the flowers are where the sapphires set. It’s pretty and very much Jill. “You should get it.”

Her eyebrow arcs at the firmness in my tone. “Just like that?”

I nod. “Yep. She’ll love it. Go with your gut, Flemming.” I wink at her and she grins. “Mary, my friend here would like to look at this ring.”

She scurries over and helps Ann with her purchase. We both of walk out of Le Cœur, slightly lighter in the pocket than when we went in, but personally, it was very much worth it.

Ann seems pleased with the overall purchase. Now the question is will she be able to wait until Christmas to give the present to her wife or will she cave, like she usually does and only wait a few days.

We slide into the grey Police Interceptor that I’ve signed out for the day when my phone rings. I don’t bother reading the display before I answer, “Delaney.”

“Nora, dear,” my mother’s voice sounds in my ear.

Shit.

“Hi mom,” I chirp at her. It’s not like I dislike my mother. I actually lover her. She’s an amazing woman, but she also has the ability to get on every single nerve I have and push my buttons in a way that is unrivaled, even by Nikki.

“How are you, honey?” she asks.

“Good. Busy actually, big case. What can I do for you?” I ask wanting to keep the conversation as short as possible.

“Oh well, shoot. I was hopin’ I could talk you into family supper this Sunday,” she says, sounding slightly disappointed.

“That wouldn’t be bad, but I don’t know when this will be wrapped up. I’ve got federal agents here with me on the case; actually, do you remember Ann?”

“The brunette girl you went through the academy with?” Leave it to my mom for that to be the only thing she remembers. I didn’t bring Ann around much, but often enough that my mother should remember her a bit better.

“That’s the one. She’s working on the case with me so I just don’t think it will be possible for me to get away.” I sigh and Ann gives me a look.

“Well, then, I guess we could do it another time. Although if you want, why don’t you bring her along. It’s been ages since I saw her,” my mother pushes.

“Ma, I just don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Trying to dissuade her is near impossible, but one can hope.

“Nonsense. You should bring her,” she states.

“Seriously, I don’t think we’ll have the time,” I put enough force behind my words that I know she’ll back off.

“Well then, why don’t you come the following Sunday. Bring Dan.” …Or maybe not.

Shit.

“Mom,” I warn, “Dan was my partner and now he’s my boss. Dan and I were not, are not and will not ever be anything more than colleagues.”

“Hi, Mrs. Delaney!” Ann shouts next to me.

“OH! Is that Ann, Nora put her on please,” my mom coos.

Well fuck.

I pass the phone off as Ann and my mother start talking. I tune out the conversation and begin thumping my head on the steering wheel. Like I need this.

I stop beating myself up when I hear Ann say, “Yeah, sure. We can probably swing by tomorrow. Would that be okay?”

My eyes grow large and I waive my hands in the universal “no” gesture, but Ann ignores me and blathers on, “Great, well I look forward to seeing you again too. Bye Mrs. Delaney.”

I groan as Ann closes my phone and hands it back to me.

“You couldn’t a just told her no?” I whine.

She makes a face at me and scowls. “Ya know Nor, I’m usually pretty quiet when it comes to you and your family. I get it, we all got baggage, but do me a favor and take it from someone who knows what it’s like to not have a mom around and can spot a good one, cut her some slack. Maybe if you loosen up and let her in, you’ll see that she does love you. That maybe just maybe you could let her in as much as she deserves.”

I huff, turn the motor over and head back to the station.

“So, Williams said he’d send his file over?” she asks trying to change the topic.

“Yeah,” I say letting her. “I don’t know how well this is going to end Ann.”

I see her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “It could end a bunch of different ways. I know we’re going neck deep into something.”

“And it’s dangerous,” I interrupt.

“Yeah it is. But if there is a dirty agent somewhere in the mix, we need to find them and neutralize.”

“We could actually see this thing through to the drop date,” I venture.

“Yeah, and then what? My guess is the bust goes south. Unless we finger the dirty agent.”

“If there is a dirty agent,” I say, playing Devil’s Advocate.
“What else could it be?” she presses.

I shrug and turn into an open space in front of the station. “Dunno, someone impersonating an officer. From what Williams said, the A.T.F. had no records of the guy that he was working with.”

She turns to me and rests her back against the passenger side door as we idle. “Well then it could be that Williams is making it all up and it was him or his partner, Maddow.”

I shake my head. “While it isn’t impossible. I don’t think so. The guy was solid.”

“You know all of this by a phone call?” she asks.

“I know people. I don’t need to see a face to know if someone’s blowing smoke or not. This guy, he was…as honest as I think he could be. I think maybe they jerked him around more than what he let on, but…”

“So then that leaves us with someone impersonating a federal officer or a dirty federal officer.” Her nose scrunches in disgust at either possibility. “So that leaves us where?”

“Well, if we don’t die during the drop, we’ll need a strong case to take to any prosecutor. If not actual death, career suicide’s always an option,” my tone at best glib.

“Uh-huh,” she moans getting out of the car. I follow her and she looks at me over the hood of the car and exclaims, “We are soooo fucked!”

Silently, I agree.

---

Armstrong Elementary comes into view and I pull in front by the office. After spending the second half of my day interviewing a few more neighbors and re-interviewing another two I’m exhausted, but there really isn’t much that can be done about it. My only saving grace this afternoon has been a rather subdued Toussaint.

Perhaps my hasty departure took the wind from his sails.

At least one can hope as it seems to spring eternal and all that other nonsense.

I’ve only filled him in on the barest of details Benton and Charlie shared. I’m not sure it would do much good. Considering his views, I doubt he’d care much anyhow.

It’s frustrating sometimes, being a cop. More than I ever really thought possible. There are days when you feel like you can save the world. Especially when Nora and I clear a particularly hard case and the family is thankful. It does so much. It helps them heal. It helps us know that we’re doing something to make a difference and until recently, I never considered the impact it would have on their confidence of the police. I know it helps there too.

But cops like Toussaint, Doucet and others that are actually few and far between, but still manage to do more damage than they know. It takes one bad experience with a cop for people to think that we’re all like that.

Sighing, I shake my head and exit the car, following Toussaint up to the offices.

We step inside and a young girl, maybe twenty, smiles at us and says, “Can I help you?”

“Hi,” Toussaint smiles back, laying on the charm. His idea of charm reminds me of a girl I met while traveling. Slick, slimy, smarmy and the sad part is that it actually worked on quite a few people. “I’m Detective Michael Toussaint and this is Detective Nikki Beaumont. We need to speak with the teacher of Lance Heidecker.”

Her smile falters as she fusses, “That poor little guy. We heard what happened around here. The grandmother called. I guess she has him now.” I watch as she types a few things in the computer that sits to our right.

“We wouldn’t know where the child was placed. We’re actually just following up. Child Services handles all of that,” Toussaint answers.

The young woman takes a Post-It and scribbles something down “Well, Lance’s teacher is Ms. Katy Sillman. She’s on the first floor here. Second grade, room one-oh-nine.” She passes the note to Toussaint and smiles at us.

I resist the roll of my eyes and follow him out of the office door and down the hallway.

He whistles loudly and flicks the note in his hand. “Name and phone number, how about that, Beaumont.”

Oh, eww. Just eww. I understand that my perspective is, shall we say skewed, but honestly, why are straight women so dumb? Not saying I haven’t met my share of lesbians who put up with too much crap from their partner, but I can honestly say, on average, heterosexual women are far more likely to put up with unnecessary crap from men just because they think that it’s okay for the man to do whatever. Whatever the what maybe.

I will stand firmly behind what Erica used to say, “No piece of ass is usually worth that much trouble.”

I get that sometimes it’s more than just a “piece of ass” and emotions tend to muddy the waters, but on the whole, it’s a valid statement.

We stop in front of room one-oh-nine and Toussaint raps lightly. A soft, “Come in,” is heard so we enter. The class isn’t’ huge. Could probably sit about thirty kids, but Ms. Sillman has the place decorated nicely. Colorful. Lots of arts and crafts mixed in with the basics of mathematics.

“Yes?” a woman maybe twenty-five years old stands from behind her desk and looks us over.

I size her up myself, five-foot-seven, Nora’s height, shoulder length light brown hair and green eyes that reflect mostly kindness and a hint of suspicion stare back at me. Round curves beneath tan slacks and a blue blouse tell me that she’s not in fantastic shape, but she carries the air of someone comfortable with herself and body. She’s pretty.

“Hi, Ms. Sillman. I’m Detective Toussaint and this is Detective Beaumont. We’re here to talk about Lance Heidecker.”

“Oh, my,” she sits back down and indicates two seats to her right to bring in front of her desk. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

After situating ourselves, Toussaint takes point and I observe. “Well, we were just wanting to get a better understanding of his home life.”

“Ah, I see,” she clucks, leans down and pulls a file from her drawer. “I’m not really sure how much of this to share. I mean the most I have is speculation.”

“Well, Lance is your student. Next to his mom and dad you had the most interaction with him,” Toussaint pacifies.

“It’s just…I mean I only suspected and there was never really enough to go to Children Services about,” she bemoans. “I mean when do you raise the red flag and what if you’re wrong?”

We both nod encouragingly and she carries on. “Lance is a quiet kid, ya know. Shy. No friends to speak of. Most of the children usually find someone to bond with. Find a playmate, but not Lance. That alone was enough to pique my curiosity.”

She opens up the file and removes some drawings. “Then about four months ago, right before summer break and we started second grade, because I’ve had him since he was in first, I’d notice little things, red marks, a few bruises. Nothin’ one could really do much about. Especially if I asked what happened. It was always ‘I fell, Ms. Sillman or some other cop out.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “When we came back from summer break and we started back to our arts and crafts hour Tuesdays and Thursdays, I really became concerned. I even let the principal know, but I was never told if he followed up on anything.”

She hands over two drawings. One to Toussaint and one to me. I look over the offered image and internally cringe. It’s nothing bloody or even what I would call disturbing. What it speaks of is child not too happy.

“See,” she explains, “developmentally, most eight or nine year olds will draw their family, pets, maybe cartoon characters or things that interest them, that cause them joy. Lance didn’t. At least he hasn’t. No real color except the red’s and blues you see there. All the rest in black and grey.”

The picture I’m holding is of the woods, black trunks and black leaves. The only speck of color is a red circle on one of the trunks. The red wax clings to the construction paper, thick and dark.

I hand over the drawing and Toussaint asked, “Was there anything else? Besides the marks and the drawings?”

Her lips turn down in a frown and she shakes her head. “Those are enough. At least for me. Now with his parents being gone…I’m just besides myself. I don’t think he had a happy home, but no one deserves to lose their parents at such a young age.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Toussaint agrees.

Prick.

---

I glance down at my watch as I step into S.C.U.’s bull pen. Miraculously, the place is quiet. A few detectives milling about, but it seems subdued. I figure at least we can thank God for small favors.

The one person I want to see though isn’t at her desk. I frown and spot Georgia coming from the copy room. “Georgia!” I holler for her.

Her head snaps up from the paper in her hand and she grins. I cross the room quickly and ask, “You ain’t by chance seen my partner around here have you?”

She smiles and says, “Actually, I think she and Toussaint are in Interview Two making a mess of the space with their case.”

“Thanks,” is all I offer as I turn heel and head in the direction of the interview rooms.

It’s ten past seven; I’m tired and more than cranky. Pausing at the door I overhear Toussaint talking. Nikki said that she didn’t like him, that was all she said and that she’d be happy when we went back to the status quo. I agreed. Working with Ann’s actually pretty fun. We mesh that way, but… I work best with Nikki. Ann and I are a lot alike, especially about a case.

In short, there’s not enough balance.

With Nikki, the best thing is that we do approach things differently. She gives me the balance I need to make me a better cop. I may not ever admit it to her. At least not right now ‘cause she’d never let me hear the end of it, but maybe someday soon.

Now Toussaint, for Nikki to say that she doesn’t like him…that tells me quite a bit. Enough to know that the guy’s a jerk. Even if I wasn’t overhearing him hit on my partner, my lover that way. I’d still know.

Annoyed that I let his pestering carry on this long, I don’t bother knocking as I open the door and poke my head inside. “Hey,” I say smiling at my girl.

“Hey back, there partner,” she purrs at me, smiling.

I flick my eyes to Toussaint. His face darkens briefly before he breaks into a smile. Hmm, that doesn’t really match with what I heard. I look him in the eyes and it takes me a second, but I see everything I need to.

The guy’s an ass.

“You about ready?” I ask.

She leans back and stretches her arms over her head, lacing her fingers together. “Yes actually. I would like to sleep in a normal bed,” she answers.

“Well, don’t forget,” I say smirking, “We got that double date.”

“Oh really?” Toussaint butts in. “Is that why you won’t go out with me? Seeing someone already?”

I see Nikki’s jaw twitch, the anger flashing in her eyes. I wonder if this moron knows how close he’s coming to bear the full brunt of a pissed Beaumont.

It would serve him right.

“No, Toussaint,” Nikki says, gathering her things. “I won’t go out with you because I like to date those who have a higher I.Q. than a lobster.”

With that, she slings her bag over her shoulder and saunters out the door. I linger for a moment and eye him. “Look, I’m gonna tell you this only once. Lay off my partner. When I get done with this task force, I’ll be partnered with her again. I don’t need you pissing her off.”

He sucks his teeth and shrugs. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I’ll have your ass reassigned to meter maid.” I smile and add, “After, I tell our L.T. I caught you down in the quarter feeling up a sixteen year old.”

I don’t bother listening for a response. Truth is I don’t care what he has to say. I’ll make good on my threat. Even if Nikki takes away his manhood in a fit. I’ll finish the job.

I hit the stairwell and see her waiting on me. A smirk gracing her beautiful face. “What took you so long?”

Shaking my head, I shrug. “Just friendly chit chat between colleagues.”

“Uh-huh,” she hums.

We stride down the stairs, to the front parking lot and over to my baby when Nikki tosses me the keys to June Lee. I gratefully slip behind the wheel, sigh when she turns over and I rev her engine.

I make short work of the drive to my partners and before we even get inside Nikki’s apartment she’s pinned me against its door. Lips covering mine as one hand curls in my hair and the other opens the door. I can only accept the sudden assault and moan disapprovingly as she pulls back and pecks me on the nose.

“Missed you today,” she says, shutting the door.

“Ditto,” I mirror her sentiment and pull her towards the bedroom. I unclip my gun and badge and lay it on my night stand as she does the same with hers. “I sent Ann home with an unmarked. I think the plan was dinner and maybe a nightcap. Not sure, though. You wanna call?”

I kick my shoes off and hop on the bed to lean against the headboard. I watch her undress, enjoying the unintentional strip tease.

As she glances over her shoulder and unhooks her bra, I’m not as certain as I was a moment ago about the unintentional part of her getting undressed. I smirk at her and call her on it, “Tease.”

“Hmm, yup,” she says, turning to me completely nude. I watch the sway of her hips and breasts as she saunters over to me, crawls up the bed and lays on top of me. Feeling slightly over dressed and cheated I reach for my cell.

“Let me call Jill and Ann and see what time they want to eat.” She nods curling into me a little more.

I dial my home and get Jill on the second ring, “Heya there lady.”

“Nora, I have bad news,” she says.

“What’s wrong?” I await a response while running my hands over the back of Nikki’s right shoulder.

“It’s Ann. I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it tonight,” Jill’s sighs sounding only slightly miffed.

“She was fine when she left the station house,” I say and switch the phone to my other ear to rub Nikki’s other shoulder.

“Yeah she was fine when she got home too, but then, well she sorta did this mattress face plant thing and I haven’t been able to get her to stir.”

I laugh and shake my head. Well that figures. “Ya know, it’s alright. I think an early night would do us all some good.”

“True, I’m just afraid that you’re going to have an Ann shaped imprint in your bed when we leave,” she pouts.

“Well maybe we can have her do the other side and make a blow up doll for you,” I joke with her.

She snickers and says, “Hmm, that’s really not a bad idea. Then I could take her everywhere.”

Oh, dear Lord. Why did I go there?

“Uh-huh. Alright well on that note, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, hon,” I say.

“G’night Nora.” Jill disconnects and I set the phone on the stand.

I look down at Nikki and shake my head. Well there went my plans. I watch her sleep a moment longer and then maneuver her under the covers. Standing, I quickly strip and climb back into bed to spoon her from behind. She pushes against me and mumbles “G’night, Nora. Love you.”

I kiss her temple and drift off into a sorely needed decent night’s sleep.


Next>>>

Comments

[wkgreen.livejournal.com]

hehe.. face plant thing!! ;)

Like how you are having them work on separate cases and how they work better with each other then others.

Waiting for more! :)

oh yes! GO ANN!! Way to tell Nora to be nice to her mother! :)

[whedonist]

Face plants are fun...I recommend them when you can barely stand up right.

Glad you're enjoying the different cases and more is on the way.

Thank you!

[pbwr.livejournal.com]

I don't know if I like the direction Nikki's case is taking, I think it's going to be sad...der.
I'm a little nervous to for the end of Nora and Ann's case too---hopefully it won't be too dangerous.

Good for Ann telling Nora to be nice to mama.
Good for Nora telling the jerk-off to leave Nikki alone.

And boo for your loss, sucks to lose all that work. And I mean that purely selflessly and not in a selfish 'how long will we have to wait for an update' sort of way.

[whedonist]

It's gonna be fun, of the not variety, all the way around. The data loss wasn't as bad as I thought. I had some additional files backuped up on my work comp so, now I only have to redo 3 weeks worth of work instead two months...

Thanks for reading. =0)

[onebridge.livejournal.com]

^&^ I love the new chapter, and the part that Nikki fell sleep on Nora in the end just so cute and lovely. Thanks for the wonderful story.

Also, I'm a little bit worried about their cases, I do like all the drama that solving cases would bring, but still there's kind of bad feeling that might lead them in danger....
Ohhh, I really don't like Toussaint, he's terrible.

[whedonist]

Thank you. And I'm also happy you're enjoying.

Sit down and buckle up, we'll be feeling these cases for a little while.