Chapter 9
I saw Kira at my Friday night kickboxing lesson, but since he had to work Saturday morning, we had a late dinner at his place on Saturday night. I worked most of the next few days, and even though I saw him intermittently, and spoke to him on the phone, we didn't exactly have any quality time together.
I went back to work again on Monday morning
early, combing the Tomic files for anything we might have overlooked, and worked right through until Tuesday morning.
"You look like hell," Mitch greeted me cheerfully, as only he could. But he brought me coffee, so he was forgiven. "Did you pull an all-nighter?"
I nodded, and my stiff neck protested, making me groan.
He looked to the files open on my desk. "Find anything new?"
"Nah," I admitted. "But there's—"
"There's something missing," he cut me off, finishing my sentence for me.
I sighed tiredly. "You know what?" I asked, looking up at him. "The more I look, the more convinced I am."
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He fell into his chair and huffed out a sigh. He stared at me for a long moment then shook his head. "Give me your notes," he said, rolling his eyes.
I grinned at my partner and slid over my notepad.
Kurt and Tony both laughed at us from their desks, and Mitch looked at them, completely resigned. "If you can't beat him…"
Ignoring their jibes at me, I explained to Mitch what I'd done. "I've cross referenced times and locations from intel's reports against ours, and there don't seem to be any discrepancies."
Mitch looked at me curiously. "Then where's the problem?"
This was where I always lost them. "It's in his behavior."
Mitch blinked. "His behavior?"
I nodded and talked quickly, so there was less time for doubt to settle in. "His actions don't add up. It's not consistent. We know he's territorial and violent. We know Homicide has him pegged for numerous disappearances but can't prove anything. We know he's capable of killing someone without rhyme or reason."
Mitch, Kurt, and Tony all stared at me.
So I continued, "But then he'll show lenience when he shouldn't. We know he has a high IQ, but at the same
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time, he's fucking stupid. We know he's meticulous and anal about everything to the point of OCD, but then he'll do something out of sequence. It doesn't make sense."
"So," Kurt said slowly. "You think he has a split personality?"
I exhaled loudly. "I'm not sure," I admitted.
"Maybe he's smarter than we gave him credit for,"
Tony said objectively. "Maybe he acted that way to make us think he didn't act alone? So we'd spend half our time looking for someone who doesn't exist."
I had to admit, it was a fair point. I sighed again.
"Maybe…"
But Mitch hadn't said a word. The three of us
looked at him. He was flipping through my notes, and when he realized we were watching him, he stared at me, tapping his pen like he did when he was thinking.
"I think you're right."
I grinned at him, and Kurt and Tony groaned in unison.
Mitch shook his head. "I fucking hate it when I think you're right."
I laughed, but he was quick to his feet. "Come on,"
he snapped at me. "You're the one telling Berkman."
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I grabbed my notepad and the files, and we headed to Berkman's office. This should be easy. The boss loved me.
The older man looked up from his computer. "You look like shit, Elliott," he barked at me. "When was the last time you slept?"
About thirty-six hours before, but I didn't say that.
Instead I told him, "I've been going through the Tomic files."
He didn't blink. He didn't move. I don't even know if he breathed.
So I told him something hadn't sat well with me this entire case. I'd pushed to look for a second operative, but without the proof, there just wasn't the time or the resources to take it further.
Berkman looked at us both. "What's changed?"
It was Mitch who answers. "My partner here has had a bee in his bonnet since day one about this, and he's gonna drive me fucking nuts until he checks this out."
Mitch looked at me, then back to our boss and said, "Sir, he's never been wrong before."
"You agree with him?" Berkman asked him. Mitch nodded, and Berkman sighed. "What is it you're asking for?"
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"We want a psych evaluation on Tomic before he goes to trial," I told him. "A full profile."
"Looking for?"
"To see if he's capable of such a diverse behavior pattern," Mitch said. "Either the man's Jekyll and Hyde, or he didn't work alone."
"You're running out of time," Berkman said, like we didn't already know.
We both nodded, and our boss pressed his lips into a thin line. "You," he looked at me. "Give the files to him,"
he nodded to Mitch, and I promptly handed the files over.
Then he looked at Mitch. "You, get the paperwork in order.
I'll organize the profile. I want your reports watertight." He looked between us both like he was watching a tennis match. "Water. Tight. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir," we answered in unison and turned to leave.
"And Elliott?" he called out.
We both stopped and turned to face him, but only I answered. "Yes, Sir?"
"Go home," he barked at me. "Have a sleep and a shower. You're wearing the clothes you came in here wearing yesterday, you stink, and you're no use to anyone on no sleep."
I smiled at him.
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His lips curled in an almost smile. "And… good job."
"Thank you, Sir."
He had his phone in his hand before we left his office. Mitch looked sideways at me before hitting me with the files I'd just handed to him. "Thanks a fucking lot," he griped. "I fucking hate it when you're right." He held up the files, shaking them at me. "I won't be going home anytime today."
I laughed at him and collected my keys from my desk on my way out. "Say hello to Anna for me."
He mocked my voice. "Say hello to Keira for me."
I got to the elevator, turned and gave him a salute.
"I will."
He flipped me the bird.
I smiled at him, but I had to admit, that was a fucking great idea. I was ridiculously tired. I'd been up for thirty-six hours straight, but I wanted to see him. I wanted to be with him, close to him.
I knew exactly what I was going to do.
I'd go to his place instead of mine. The fact he was at work and wouldn't even be there didn't bother me. I'd sleep in his bed that smelled of him.
The fact I didn't have a key was just a minor
technicality.
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* * * *
I looked up and down the hallway. It was empty, but it was habit for me to check. I took out my keys and found the one I was looking for, though it wasn't really a key at all. It was a long, flat, metal pin, the kind of gadget that'd open most locks on most doors. I slid the tool into the lock and jimmied it around, turning the handle until I heard a familiar click.
I slipped inside his apartment, pulling my shoes off and leaving them inside the door. His apartment was clean and quiet. The walls were bright with the sunlight streaming in, nothing out of place. It was so very… him.
God, he even made his bed.
I didn't bother getting undressed. I just fell onto the soft mattress, settling into his side of the bed. It smelled of him—his shampoo, his soap, his sweat. I breathed in deeply and smiled.
With one last look at the alarm clock on the bedside table, I saw it was just after two in the afternoon. Knowing Kira wouldn't be home for at least another four hours, I closed my eyes.
* * * *
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I was being watched. Even in my sleep, I could feel eyes on me. My skin prickled, my blood pounded in my ears. I was suddenly very aware I was not in my house…
and then I remembered where I was.
I opened my eyes and saw a silhouette in the
doorway.
A huge, well-defined figure with spiky black hair and dark, smiling eyes was standing in the doorway, watching me. A slow smile spread across his face as he walked toward the bed. "Do all cops know how to break and enter?"
My voice was croaky. "Only the really good ones."
He grinned. "I saw your shoes at the door," he said softly.
I smiled. "Good detective work."
"You're on my side of the bed," he said, and the bed dipped as he put his knee on it.
"It smells like you," I told him.
He moaned softly, leaning over to press his lips to my still-sleepy eyelids. I reached out my hand, finding his forearm. "Babe, I'm all sweaty," he said.
"Mmm," I hummed. "Sweaty Kira's my favorite," I told him. He chuckled but didn't protest when I pulled him down beside me. "We can shower later."
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He lay down, and I quickly settled into his side, resting my head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. "I missed you."
I gave him a squeeze. "I missed you, too. I'm sorry I've worked so much this week," I told him. "I'll make it up to you."
"Hmm?" he hummed suggestively. "How do you propose to do that?"
"This weekend, I'm all yours," I promised him. "I've done enough hours to give me a weekend off."
"But that's three days away," he whined.
"Then I'll make it up to you tonight as well," I conceded, looking up at him.
He smiled and ran his fingers along my scruffy jaw.
"You didn't shave."
"I didn't go home."
"You work too hard."
Ignoring his comment about my job, I rubbed my jaw along his hand. "Don't you like my scruff?"
"Mmm, I do. It suits you," he said with a smile.
"But you still work too hard."
I didn't think he'd let me get away with not
answering. I laid my head back down on his bare chest.
"I'm a cop. It's what I do."
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I could feel his chest vibrate when he chuckled.
"But this weekend, you're not a cop. You'll just be my boyfriend, to do with as I see fit."
Lifting my head and resting it on my hand, I looked at him. "Now that sounds promising!"
He laughed, but then his smile died. "Oh, shit… I'm supposed to be having dinner with my parents on Saturday night."
"Oh."
"You could come with me?" he sounded unsure and hopeful at the same time.
"To your parents' house… for dinner?" I asked.
"Would they mind?"
He grinned. "They like you. Of course they won't mind." He got some far-off look in his eyes as though he was concocting some sort of plan. Then he flipped me over, leaned over me and grinned. "What time will you finish on Friday?"
Suddenly a little scared by his excitement, I told him, "Well, we normally hit the gym around five-ish, I have my boxing lesson at five-thirty and then we hit the bar. Home by seven-ish." And then the loaded question,
"Why? What are you planning?"
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He laughed at me, but leaned down and pecked my lips with his. "If I can change dinner with Mom and Dad to Friday, then we can go camping. All weekend."
Huh?
Camping?
C amping?
Was he kidding me?
He thought my expression was hilarious.
I tried to explain. "I don't do camping. I don't do tents in the wilderness with wild animals. Put me in a concrete jungle with drug dealers any day."
But he only laughed louder.
When he'd stopped laughing, he climbed off me. As he walked out to the living room, he told me, "I need to call Mom to see about changing our dinner plans."
"Tell her Saturday is fine," I yelled back to him.
"We can stay in a fancy motel, where there's room service and television, hot showers and flushing toilets."
He laughed again then told me from the next room to get my pretty ass out of bed and order some dinner because he was starving. I rolled my eyes. He was always starving because he exercised too damn much.
"There's no home delivery in the wilderness!" I called out. "What will you do then?"
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He laughed again, but then said, "Hi, Mom… no, no, I was laughing at Matt. He's just being funny."
I was being funny?
I walked into the kitchen and pouted at him on my way past. He chuckled at me as he talked to his mom, and I could tell from this side of the conversation, dinner was now on Friday night.
Which meant I was going camping.
Fuck.
Looking through the take-out menus, I decided on Thai for dinner. As I ordered from my cell, Kira disconnected the call to his mom and stood behind me in the kitchen. He trailed his mouth down the back of my neck to my shoulder, with wet, open-mouthed kisses.
With dinner ordered, I put my phone on the kitchen counter, but didn't turn around. Kira kept kissing all the skin his mouth could find. "This weekend will be fun. Just you and me," he said breathily, in between kisses. "A secluded cabin… log fire…"
"Mm," I stretched my neck, giving him better access. "Now that kind of camping, I can do."
He chuckled into my neck. "The big, brave Detective Matthew Elliott is afraid of the great outdoors?"
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I turned to face him, and he was clearly amused.
"Not afraid of," I clarified. "It's just out of my comfort zone."
He raised one eyebrow. "And dealing with crazed drug dealers is in your comfort zone?"
I nodded. "Yep."
He shook his head at me. "You're crazy."
"Must be if I'm considering going camping."
He laughed. But then he frowned and walked into the living room, coming back with his keys. He unthreaded one key and held it in his hand. When he looked at me, he bit his lip.
"This is a key to my apartment," he said with nervous smile. "You should have one. So, you know, you don't have to break in, if I'm not here."
A key?
A key to his apartment.
Oh my God.
I reached out slowly and took it. It was just a simple silver key, but what it meant wasn't simple at all. I looked up into his dark eyes and couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. "I shouldn't really break in, you know, being a cop and all."
He chuckled and breathed out a sigh of relief. Then he shook his head. "I still can't believe you did that."
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I shrugged. "I needed to see you." Then it occurred to me, I really should return the favor. "I should get you a key to my place."
He rolled his eyes. "I don't think I need one, considering I've only been there twice."
"Oh."
He lifted my chin. "But thank you for the offer."
Then he kissed me, all languid and lovely, until there was a knock at the door telling us dinner had arrived.
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