Roll Away Your Stone 5/18
Apr. 28th, 2011 06:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
whedonistChapter: In The Winding Down Hours
Rating: PG-13 – R ish…language folks…
Pairing: Nikki & Nora
Disclaimer: At some point, don’t these become superfluous? Do we need to consistently rub my, or our collective, nose(s) in the fact that Nikki & Nora do not belong to me? I’m still trying to get over the idea that Buffy and associated characters aren’t mine, let alone these girls…*sigh* Let’s pretend for a little while and then I’ll give ‘em back to Nancylee Myatt and Co.
A/N: So time has been lacking and for that I'm sorry. There are comments from last chapter that I haven't gotten to so to save me some time and quasi-guilt (it's a rather foreign emotion, but I'll try to muster some up for you lot) about not responding. I will say thank you. It's good to know that people are reading and enjoying what's being wrote. Most of the time, I think I do this to entertain myself...which oddly enough, I'm cool with. I'm also going to quit rambling now and let you lot get on with the reading.
Take care everyone!
Ch. 5 – In the Winding Down Hours
You can’t live with and work with someone without getting into your fair share of disagreements or fights. Nora and I have definitely had our fights. So we’ve learned to drop back – compartmentalize for whatever occasion we’ve found ourselves in so we can focus on the issue at hand.
The current issue is now the triple homicide that we were handed. Jennifer Knox coded this morning. Her death didn’t help the tension between my Nora and me. So as she pulls over in front of the Knox residence we are setting aside the hurt and anger between us to focus on finding the S.0.B.’s responsible.
I step from the car, ballistics report in hand, as Nora shuts off the engine before joining me on the sidewalk and we head up to the nondescript front door. It looks like the rest of the houses on this block except for the crime scene tape and bullet holes. We put on blue nitrile gloves and I stand back to let Nora cut through the tape and push the door open.
“All right,” I say, hoisting the report I brought in front of us, “Benton was responsible for taking care of this so…”
“If you say he hooked us up ‘cause he wants in my pants, Nicolette, so help me, I will pop you,” Nora cuts off the jibe she knew was coming her way.
I cluck my tongue and tease, “We both know it’s true. sugga, how many times have we caught him staring at your backside? It works for us and it’s not like I can fault him any. You do have a wonderful derriere. “
Her arms fold across her chest and she scowls at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be pissed at me right now?”
I shrug. She does have a point, but it’s no reason to lie to her. “I am and we are not okay yet, Nora, but I will not deny I love your ass and the rest of the body it’s attached to. You just happen to be working on a very exhausted nerve.”
As expected, she rolls her eyes at me and asks, “What did Benton tell us?”
I let her refocus the reason for our visit and go back to the report in my hand. “They identified the weapons of choice – two AK-47’s. Benton didn’t get a total count but he’s estimating three hundred rounds in the fifteen second assault.”
“You think the N.R.A. would be pissed if we all went back to muzzle loaders?” Nora snickers then pinches her lower lip between her teeth and rests her hands on her hips.
I step deeper into the house making note of where the shots hit. The bullet holes in some areas are ragged and savage looking and others, through the dry wall, just look like holes poked in rice paper with a sharp pencil. In the living room, congealed blood stains the couch and floor. Nora breaks off and heads toward the dining room while I look at the markers indicating where the body of each child came to rest. The back of the couch is peppered with holes.
Jennifer Knox’s children never had a chance in hell.
I bite the inside of my cheek and hear Nora ask, “Charlie give any indication when he would do the posts on the kids?”
“Nope. We can swing by later if you like,” I offer, tucking the report into the small of my back and crouching down by the coffee table to inspect a bullet that is still lodged in the wood.
“We can’t. We have that interview for the B and E to follow up on.” I hear her voice get louder as she speaks.
I peek over the back of the couch and see her standing in the archway separating the dining room and living room. Her hands rest on her hips that tongue of her’s planted firmly in her cheek. She’s thinking about something.
“What?” I ask standing and brushing my pants free of the debris that litters the floor.
“Knox was definitely the intended target,” she states, her green eyes sweeping around the room.
“That would make the most sense, but I want to know why?” I counter.
Nora gives me a shrug. “Fell in with the wrong crowd?”
My lips purse and then I snip, “That’s a load of horse manure. The Intel Ron gave us points to Knox still on Brooks’ good side, what’s the advantage of killing either someone that’s bringing you in money or someone that is still considered a friend or for that matter, my money’s on a lover?”
I fold my arms across my chest and press the point, “Besides the fact that we’re considering the two children that died collateral damage in this…” my arms drop and I can’t help the annoyance, “Combine the kids and the overkill we see…”
“There’s more to this than what Ron thinks is going on,” my partner finishes.
I nod. “I also think you’re right. Someone saw something or knows something.”
Leaning against the wall, Nora bobs her head. “Agreed, but we’ve been through the neighborhood twice and no one is saying anything.”
Sighing, I scratch the top of my head, mindful of the way the gloves I’m wearing tend to pull at my hair. “We need to shake things up around here. We can try going after Brooks. See if he will talk to us.”
Nora’s mouth screws over to the side, considering my idea. I watch as the muscles in her jaw flex. “Let’s take a quick sweep of the neighborhood and then come back a little later, maybe after dinner.”
I agree and head for the door. There has to be something we can do to shake these people up maybe between now and when we come back we’ll have an idea of what we can do.
Switching gears from one case to another has always been a problem for me. My mind gets stuck at looking at one particular problem, or maybe it’s a set of problems for one case, and I pick at it, twisting, pulling at it until something finally shakes free. When Nikki and I were first partnered, I gave her the standard, ‘wanna help people and it’s the family business’ line.
It wasn’t completely untrue…
What the real answer is, is that I like the challenge of figuring it out.
Right now, between everything that’s going on, I wish I could figure out a way to make things right with Nikki.
I look out of the windshield and see her talking with Georgia. Running a hand through my hair, I sigh. It’s not like I don’t know what can be done. I just don’t know if it’s worth what will happen if I do.
I failed my dad on every conceivable level…I can’t do that to my mother.
“June Lee didn’t do anything to you Nora,” Nikki teases me as she slips into the passenger seat.
I stop banging my head off the back window and look at her.
Usually when she pokes fun at me, I can see amusement reflected back at me. Not right now.
I shake it off. We’ll work it out…we have to.
“What did Georgia say?” I ask trying to get my mind back on the job.
“Ross Courtney is back in town and she also gave us this,” Nikki says holding up a folder.
She passes it off to me and I open it. Seeing the photos that were found at the scene, I shrug. “And…?”
I look back down at the pictures of Mr. Ken Courtney in a very compromising position with someone who does not come close to resembling his wife, Audrey. The pictures replaced the items in the safe of the Courtney home when it was broken into and robbed. Mr. Courtney says that that’s not him and he has no idea who the woman is.
“The pictures are fake,” Nikki reveals, “Georgia put in the report from her friend over at the lab. He gave us a fifteen point marker on how to tell they’re fakes. He did say that the person who did it, didn’t do a half-bad job.” Her hand waves dismissively as she adds, “Something about shadows and lighting. Kinda went right over my head.”
I press my lips together and bob my head. I was wrong, Ken isn’t a cheating bastard. Maybe when we give him the news, he and his wife, who moved out since the robbery, will be able to patch things up.
“Good for him,” I say.
“Eh?” Nikki asks, repositioning herself so that she’s leaning against the door.
“Just that,” I say waving the folder around before tossing it on the dashboard, “I would have pegged him for a philandering prick, but he’s not.”
My partner clucks her tongue and smirks, “At least not in this instance.” She waits a beat before adding, “He’s probably clean. We should give the man the benefit of the doubt.”
My eyebrows hike at this.
“Well,” she tries to explain, “He was genuinely shocked when we got to the scene and he was pretty upset that the missus promptly took off until he ‘sorts out his shit’ as his wife put it. Also, Georgia says we’re square.”
“How does she figure?” I ask. “How does picking up her and Jesse’s swing shift for Christmas make us square?”
She smiles at this, the first genuine smile I’ve gotten in a while, and she shrugs, “Apparently, getting those analyzed with a five day turnaround cost her tickets to the Tennessee L.S.U game next month.”
“Ouch,” I joke, “She was pissed wasn’t she?”
“She didn’t take too kindly to it, but I’ll agree with her that we’re square,” Nikki relents and I agree.
“So, let’s go see if we can talk to junior. Maybe their son can shed some light on the break in,” I say starting up June Lee. She growls to life and Nikki rights herself in the seat to buckle up.
“Considering his prints are the only other ones that were found at the scene…” Nikki trails off.
I pick up, “And mom and dad both stated the son hadn’t been to visit them since Christmas…”
“And he was never in his daddy’s locked study…”
“Junior will have some explaining to do,” I finish.
“Darius left me a voicemail, by the way, said that nothing on the list that we handed him surfaced from the robbery. If Ross doesn’t pan out, we’re going to have some problems.”
I pull out into traffic and head over to the restaurant that Ross Courtney works at. “The case is a week old. We’ll have to find some new angle.”
“Don’t remind me, Nora dear. We’ll figure it out,” she says.
Yeah, we will.
We usually do.
June Lee lets out a groan of protest as I slam her into park. For good measure, I slap the steering wheel. I swear to God Nora could make a preacher cuss!
It would be fine if she talked about it. It would be okay if she didn’t tense up when we’re in public and I brush against her. It would be fine if she just grew a set and finally came clean!
My head drops against the steering wheel. Tears sting my eyes and it does nothing but raise my hackles that much more.
I didn’t want to fight, that’s not why I asked if she knew when Patrick was planning on talking to Mrs. Delaney. I was curious. Nora, on the other hand, decided that the question warranted a temper tantrum on our way out of seeing Charlie. I just wanted to divert our attention from the information Charlie gave us. I wanted to talk about anything but the children that our friend just put back in the cooler.
So instead of giving me a chance to explain, Nora spouts off and high tails it away from me. Leaving me with June Lee and no idea where in the Sam Hill she went off to.
My forehead thumps against the steering wheel again, this time a little harder. I open my eyes and watch a few tears splash on to the column of the steering wheel. Drawing in a shuddery breath, I blink and raise my head.
I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. Jennifer Knox’s neighborhood isn’t quiet tonight. Lights are ablaze in the windows of the houses and one house towards the end of the street thumps from the bass of music playing.
Two kids. Two dead kids who didn’t have a shot in hell in the first place.
Dead.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. Charlie confirmed today that both children showed signs of physical and sexual abuse. Both children were underdeveloped and malnourished.
I didn’t want to talk about it when we stepped out into the cool evening. I wanted to talk about anything but that.
I slump back in my seat, taking the neighborhood in. Seeing it like this. Alive at night. I know someone had to see something.
The house with the party is only a block up, but I crank the engine over anyway to drive up. Before putting my foot on the gas, I watch a steady stream of people move in and out of the house. Some stick around the front porch and yard and others disappear into the surrounding houses.
They have to know something.
I hit the gas and take off down the street, I hit the curb of the sidewalk and go over it, throwing the car in park, she sits half on the sidewalk and lawn and half on the street.
A few shouts of protest fall on deaf ears as I slam the driver’s side door and stalk up to the porch.
I pay no mind and shake off a hand that tries to grab my upper arm. Blood rushes through my ears and before I know it, my guns drawn and I’m shoving it in the face off a very large angry looking white guy. The blue du rag covers long dirty blonde hair.
His hands rise to his sides as I shoulder him out of the way and step inside. There are a dozen people, some women, but mostly men sitting around the living room. My nose crinkles at the pungent aroma coming from the three blunts pinched between three different sets of hands. All of their eyes zero in on the badge at my hip then the gun in my hand.
My eyes search for the stereo banging out ridiculously loud rap. I don’t mind the music so much, but I am quite objectionable to the level it’s being played at. My trigger finger twitches, but I immediately squash the urge to just shoot the blasted stereo. Instead, I stalk over and rip the cords from behind the unit.
Silence reins as I spin around on the heel of my Steve Madden’s. I let an easy smile spread across my face and say, “Good evening.”
One guy about my height, with mixed ethnicity and more muscle than brains stands up and hollers, “Bitch, are you outta your mind? What the fuck…” He doesn’t get to say much else as my well placed kick knocks the wind from his lungs. I watch as he stumbles back into the couch gripping his abdomen.
Three others rise and my gun goes up, leveling with the one guy that doesn’t look all that shocked to see me.
The mug shot of Darren Brooks does not do him justice. In another time, I may have looked his way. Strong jaw line, easy going features.
“Tsk, tsk,” I chide the three men standing, “Why don’t ya’ll take a seat and relax.”
One of them, I can’t really tell them apart, all are dressed similarly and all are packing, steps forward, moving in front of Brooks.
“I will shoot you,” I warn. “I just came to have a little chat,” I put a little sugar in my voice and bat my lashes. “I’m Detective Nikki Beaumont of the N.O.P.D., how are all you doing?”
Another steps forward, but a voice behind him stops his progress. “Let her talk.”
“D you can’t…” the one in the middle starts.
“Siddown Taps,” Darren barks. “The rest ya’ll siddown too. I ain’t tryin’ to kill no fuckin’ cop!”
The three all hazard a glance backwards and decide to comply with the demand.
Darren Brooks rises from his recliner and steps up to me, pressing his chest into the muzzle of my gun. He licks his lips and looks me up and down. Dark brown eyes reflect not a lot back at me and he smiles. “You come up in here actin’ a fool, why don’t you say whatcha gotta say then,” he steps forward wanting me to flinch as he barks, “You crazy bitch!”
I don’t blink. I don’t back down. I do lower my gun and holster it.
“I’m sure you know,” I say loud enough for the room to hear, “about the shooting down the street. A girl named Jennifer Knox and her two children are dead. I know someone saw something. I’ll be in front of her house tomorrow at noon. I want to know what you know.”
Darren backs off and folds his arms across his chest. “I heard Jenny was still alive.”
I shake my head. “She died this morning.”
I see the muscle in his jaw twitch.
“I want answers. Tomorrow. Noon,” I remind them.
“And if we don’t?” Someone from the back pipes up.
“If someone isn’t out there tomorrow, I come back here not wanting to talk,” I state calmly, but with enough menace behind my words that they pick up on the implied threat.
Not bothering to look back, I stride from the home and back to June Lee.
Next>>>
Rating: PG-13 – R ish…language folks…
Pairing: Nikki & Nora
Disclaimer: At some point, don’t these become superfluous? Do we need to consistently rub my, or our collective, nose(s) in the fact that Nikki & Nora do not belong to me? I’m still trying to get over the idea that Buffy and associated characters aren’t mine, let alone these girls…*sigh* Let’s pretend for a little while and then I’ll give ‘em back to Nancylee Myatt and Co.
A/N: So time has been lacking and for that I'm sorry. There are comments from last chapter that I haven't gotten to so to save me some time and quasi-guilt (it's a rather foreign emotion, but I'll try to muster some up for you lot) about not responding. I will say thank you. It's good to know that people are reading and enjoying what's being wrote. Most of the time, I think I do this to entertain myself...which oddly enough, I'm cool with. I'm also going to quit rambling now and let you lot get on with the reading.
Take care everyone!
You can’t live with and work with someone without getting into your fair share of disagreements or fights. Nora and I have definitely had our fights. So we’ve learned to drop back – compartmentalize for whatever occasion we’ve found ourselves in so we can focus on the issue at hand.
The current issue is now the triple homicide that we were handed. Jennifer Knox coded this morning. Her death didn’t help the tension between my Nora and me. So as she pulls over in front of the Knox residence we are setting aside the hurt and anger between us to focus on finding the S.0.B.’s responsible.
I step from the car, ballistics report in hand, as Nora shuts off the engine before joining me on the sidewalk and we head up to the nondescript front door. It looks like the rest of the houses on this block except for the crime scene tape and bullet holes. We put on blue nitrile gloves and I stand back to let Nora cut through the tape and push the door open.
“All right,” I say, hoisting the report I brought in front of us, “Benton was responsible for taking care of this so…”
“If you say he hooked us up ‘cause he wants in my pants, Nicolette, so help me, I will pop you,” Nora cuts off the jibe she knew was coming her way.
I cluck my tongue and tease, “We both know it’s true. sugga, how many times have we caught him staring at your backside? It works for us and it’s not like I can fault him any. You do have a wonderful derriere. “
Her arms fold across her chest and she scowls at me. “Aren’t you supposed to be pissed at me right now?”
I shrug. She does have a point, but it’s no reason to lie to her. “I am and we are not okay yet, Nora, but I will not deny I love your ass and the rest of the body it’s attached to. You just happen to be working on a very exhausted nerve.”
As expected, she rolls her eyes at me and asks, “What did Benton tell us?”
I let her refocus the reason for our visit and go back to the report in my hand. “They identified the weapons of choice – two AK-47’s. Benton didn’t get a total count but he’s estimating three hundred rounds in the fifteen second assault.”
“You think the N.R.A. would be pissed if we all went back to muzzle loaders?” Nora snickers then pinches her lower lip between her teeth and rests her hands on her hips.
I step deeper into the house making note of where the shots hit. The bullet holes in some areas are ragged and savage looking and others, through the dry wall, just look like holes poked in rice paper with a sharp pencil. In the living room, congealed blood stains the couch and floor. Nora breaks off and heads toward the dining room while I look at the markers indicating where the body of each child came to rest. The back of the couch is peppered with holes.
Jennifer Knox’s children never had a chance in hell.
I bite the inside of my cheek and hear Nora ask, “Charlie give any indication when he would do the posts on the kids?”
“Nope. We can swing by later if you like,” I offer, tucking the report into the small of my back and crouching down by the coffee table to inspect a bullet that is still lodged in the wood.
“We can’t. We have that interview for the B and E to follow up on.” I hear her voice get louder as she speaks.
I peek over the back of the couch and see her standing in the archway separating the dining room and living room. Her hands rest on her hips that tongue of her’s planted firmly in her cheek. She’s thinking about something.
“What?” I ask standing and brushing my pants free of the debris that litters the floor.
“Knox was definitely the intended target,” she states, her green eyes sweeping around the room.
“That would make the most sense, but I want to know why?” I counter.
Nora gives me a shrug. “Fell in with the wrong crowd?”
My lips purse and then I snip, “That’s a load of horse manure. The Intel Ron gave us points to Knox still on Brooks’ good side, what’s the advantage of killing either someone that’s bringing you in money or someone that is still considered a friend or for that matter, my money’s on a lover?”
I fold my arms across my chest and press the point, “Besides the fact that we’re considering the two children that died collateral damage in this…” my arms drop and I can’t help the annoyance, “Combine the kids and the overkill we see…”
“There’s more to this than what Ron thinks is going on,” my partner finishes.
I nod. “I also think you’re right. Someone saw something or knows something.”
Leaning against the wall, Nora bobs her head. “Agreed, but we’ve been through the neighborhood twice and no one is saying anything.”
Sighing, I scratch the top of my head, mindful of the way the gloves I’m wearing tend to pull at my hair. “We need to shake things up around here. We can try going after Brooks. See if he will talk to us.”
Nora’s mouth screws over to the side, considering my idea. I watch as the muscles in her jaw flex. “Let’s take a quick sweep of the neighborhood and then come back a little later, maybe after dinner.”
I agree and head for the door. There has to be something we can do to shake these people up maybe between now and when we come back we’ll have an idea of what we can do.
Switching gears from one case to another has always been a problem for me. My mind gets stuck at looking at one particular problem, or maybe it’s a set of problems for one case, and I pick at it, twisting, pulling at it until something finally shakes free. When Nikki and I were first partnered, I gave her the standard, ‘wanna help people and it’s the family business’ line.
It wasn’t completely untrue…
What the real answer is, is that I like the challenge of figuring it out.
Right now, between everything that’s going on, I wish I could figure out a way to make things right with Nikki.
I look out of the windshield and see her talking with Georgia. Running a hand through my hair, I sigh. It’s not like I don’t know what can be done. I just don’t know if it’s worth what will happen if I do.
I failed my dad on every conceivable level…I can’t do that to my mother.
“June Lee didn’t do anything to you Nora,” Nikki teases me as she slips into the passenger seat.
I stop banging my head off the back window and look at her.
Usually when she pokes fun at me, I can see amusement reflected back at me. Not right now.
I shake it off. We’ll work it out…we have to.
“What did Georgia say?” I ask trying to get my mind back on the job.
“Ross Courtney is back in town and she also gave us this,” Nikki says holding up a folder.
She passes it off to me and I open it. Seeing the photos that were found at the scene, I shrug. “And…?”
I look back down at the pictures of Mr. Ken Courtney in a very compromising position with someone who does not come close to resembling his wife, Audrey. The pictures replaced the items in the safe of the Courtney home when it was broken into and robbed. Mr. Courtney says that that’s not him and he has no idea who the woman is.
“The pictures are fake,” Nikki reveals, “Georgia put in the report from her friend over at the lab. He gave us a fifteen point marker on how to tell they’re fakes. He did say that the person who did it, didn’t do a half-bad job.” Her hand waves dismissively as she adds, “Something about shadows and lighting. Kinda went right over my head.”
I press my lips together and bob my head. I was wrong, Ken isn’t a cheating bastard. Maybe when we give him the news, he and his wife, who moved out since the robbery, will be able to patch things up.
“Good for him,” I say.
“Eh?” Nikki asks, repositioning herself so that she’s leaning against the door.
“Just that,” I say waving the folder around before tossing it on the dashboard, “I would have pegged him for a philandering prick, but he’s not.”
My partner clucks her tongue and smirks, “At least not in this instance.” She waits a beat before adding, “He’s probably clean. We should give the man the benefit of the doubt.”
My eyebrows hike at this.
“Well,” she tries to explain, “He was genuinely shocked when we got to the scene and he was pretty upset that the missus promptly took off until he ‘sorts out his shit’ as his wife put it. Also, Georgia says we’re square.”
“How does she figure?” I ask. “How does picking up her and Jesse’s swing shift for Christmas make us square?”
She smiles at this, the first genuine smile I’ve gotten in a while, and she shrugs, “Apparently, getting those analyzed with a five day turnaround cost her tickets to the Tennessee L.S.U game next month.”
“Ouch,” I joke, “She was pissed wasn’t she?”
“She didn’t take too kindly to it, but I’ll agree with her that we’re square,” Nikki relents and I agree.
“So, let’s go see if we can talk to junior. Maybe their son can shed some light on the break in,” I say starting up June Lee. She growls to life and Nikki rights herself in the seat to buckle up.
“Considering his prints are the only other ones that were found at the scene…” Nikki trails off.
I pick up, “And mom and dad both stated the son hadn’t been to visit them since Christmas…”
“And he was never in his daddy’s locked study…”
“Junior will have some explaining to do,” I finish.
“Darius left me a voicemail, by the way, said that nothing on the list that we handed him surfaced from the robbery. If Ross doesn’t pan out, we’re going to have some problems.”
I pull out into traffic and head over to the restaurant that Ross Courtney works at. “The case is a week old. We’ll have to find some new angle.”
“Don’t remind me, Nora dear. We’ll figure it out,” she says.
Yeah, we will.
We usually do.
June Lee lets out a groan of protest as I slam her into park. For good measure, I slap the steering wheel. I swear to God Nora could make a preacher cuss!
It would be fine if she talked about it. It would be okay if she didn’t tense up when we’re in public and I brush against her. It would be fine if she just grew a set and finally came clean!
My head drops against the steering wheel. Tears sting my eyes and it does nothing but raise my hackles that much more.
I didn’t want to fight, that’s not why I asked if she knew when Patrick was planning on talking to Mrs. Delaney. I was curious. Nora, on the other hand, decided that the question warranted a temper tantrum on our way out of seeing Charlie. I just wanted to divert our attention from the information Charlie gave us. I wanted to talk about anything but the children that our friend just put back in the cooler.
So instead of giving me a chance to explain, Nora spouts off and high tails it away from me. Leaving me with June Lee and no idea where in the Sam Hill she went off to.
My forehead thumps against the steering wheel again, this time a little harder. I open my eyes and watch a few tears splash on to the column of the steering wheel. Drawing in a shuddery breath, I blink and raise my head.
I wasn’t even paying attention to where I was going. Jennifer Knox’s neighborhood isn’t quiet tonight. Lights are ablaze in the windows of the houses and one house towards the end of the street thumps from the bass of music playing.
Two kids. Two dead kids who didn’t have a shot in hell in the first place.
Dead.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens. Charlie confirmed today that both children showed signs of physical and sexual abuse. Both children were underdeveloped and malnourished.
I didn’t want to talk about it when we stepped out into the cool evening. I wanted to talk about anything but that.
I slump back in my seat, taking the neighborhood in. Seeing it like this. Alive at night. I know someone had to see something.
The house with the party is only a block up, but I crank the engine over anyway to drive up. Before putting my foot on the gas, I watch a steady stream of people move in and out of the house. Some stick around the front porch and yard and others disappear into the surrounding houses.
They have to know something.
I hit the gas and take off down the street, I hit the curb of the sidewalk and go over it, throwing the car in park, she sits half on the sidewalk and lawn and half on the street.
A few shouts of protest fall on deaf ears as I slam the driver’s side door and stalk up to the porch.
I pay no mind and shake off a hand that tries to grab my upper arm. Blood rushes through my ears and before I know it, my guns drawn and I’m shoving it in the face off a very large angry looking white guy. The blue du rag covers long dirty blonde hair.
His hands rise to his sides as I shoulder him out of the way and step inside. There are a dozen people, some women, but mostly men sitting around the living room. My nose crinkles at the pungent aroma coming from the three blunts pinched between three different sets of hands. All of their eyes zero in on the badge at my hip then the gun in my hand.
My eyes search for the stereo banging out ridiculously loud rap. I don’t mind the music so much, but I am quite objectionable to the level it’s being played at. My trigger finger twitches, but I immediately squash the urge to just shoot the blasted stereo. Instead, I stalk over and rip the cords from behind the unit.
Silence reins as I spin around on the heel of my Steve Madden’s. I let an easy smile spread across my face and say, “Good evening.”
One guy about my height, with mixed ethnicity and more muscle than brains stands up and hollers, “Bitch, are you outta your mind? What the fuck…” He doesn’t get to say much else as my well placed kick knocks the wind from his lungs. I watch as he stumbles back into the couch gripping his abdomen.
Three others rise and my gun goes up, leveling with the one guy that doesn’t look all that shocked to see me.
The mug shot of Darren Brooks does not do him justice. In another time, I may have looked his way. Strong jaw line, easy going features.
“Tsk, tsk,” I chide the three men standing, “Why don’t ya’ll take a seat and relax.”
One of them, I can’t really tell them apart, all are dressed similarly and all are packing, steps forward, moving in front of Brooks.
“I will shoot you,” I warn. “I just came to have a little chat,” I put a little sugar in my voice and bat my lashes. “I’m Detective Nikki Beaumont of the N.O.P.D., how are all you doing?”
Another steps forward, but a voice behind him stops his progress. “Let her talk.”
“D you can’t…” the one in the middle starts.
“Siddown Taps,” Darren barks. “The rest ya’ll siddown too. I ain’t tryin’ to kill no fuckin’ cop!”
The three all hazard a glance backwards and decide to comply with the demand.
Darren Brooks rises from his recliner and steps up to me, pressing his chest into the muzzle of my gun. He licks his lips and looks me up and down. Dark brown eyes reflect not a lot back at me and he smiles. “You come up in here actin’ a fool, why don’t you say whatcha gotta say then,” he steps forward wanting me to flinch as he barks, “You crazy bitch!”
I don’t blink. I don’t back down. I do lower my gun and holster it.
“I’m sure you know,” I say loud enough for the room to hear, “about the shooting down the street. A girl named Jennifer Knox and her two children are dead. I know someone saw something. I’ll be in front of her house tomorrow at noon. I want to know what you know.”
Darren backs off and folds his arms across his chest. “I heard Jenny was still alive.”
I shake my head. “She died this morning.”
I see the muscle in his jaw twitch.
“I want answers. Tomorrow. Noon,” I remind them.
“And if we don’t?” Someone from the back pipes up.
“If someone isn’t out there tomorrow, I come back here not wanting to talk,” I state calmly, but with enough menace behind my words that they pick up on the implied threat.
Not bothering to look back, I stride from the home and back to June Lee.
Next>>>
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no subject
Date: 2011-04-29 05:04 am (UTC)Nora hon, get your head out of your ass!
Waiting for more :)
no subject
Date: 2011-05-03 05:12 am (UTC)Sometimes a crowbar is necessary.
Thanks!!!
no subject
Date: 2011-04-29 07:41 am (UTC)I think Nora not telling her mother is more then disappointment or thinking she can not handle it. Though those are big factors, but I think that when Nora's dad found out about her he scared Nora. That a person that is suppose to love and support you no matter what says I love you but I hate what you are (not true they are two mutually exclusive emotions), that it took Nora down a whole lot of pegs.
Can't wait for more!
no subject
Date: 2011-05-03 05:14 am (UTC)She'll come around...soonish. ;0)
I wouldn't stay with Nora
Date: 2013-03-18 09:02 pm (UTC)Re: I wouldn't stay with Nora
Date: 2013-03-19 03:48 am (UTC)I do appreciate the comment though and hope that you at least enjoy the rest of the series.
Thanks!!!!