Sautrday: Part Five

I slumped into the couch. What a day and it was just starting too!

Ralph was definitely going to be pissed when he found out what I'd done. I thought about Hart. I thought about the murders. This was getting out of control. Crazy beyond crazy. I picked up my phone and dialed Tif.

"Hey, sweety," I was trying not to let my argument with Mike seep through in my voice, "wanna head out to the range with me for a bit today? I feel like shootin' holes in something."

"Have you looked outside?" She sounded shocked.

"Yeah. It's snowing. And?"

"It's a freakin blizzard! We can't go to the range in this weather. We couldn't see anything."

"We can go to the new indoor place out on Bootlegger Trail. I got a membership a couple weeks back when they first opened. I have all of my guest passes still. Come on. Please." I did not want to sit home and dwell on the fact that I knew Mike was making a big mistake in his assumptions about this case.

"Pick me up then. We're taking your truck."

"As if the mini-van would make it anywhere. I'll be there when I get there. I'll bring the coffee."

"You bring your coffee, Amber, I don't want to get the jitters and shoot the ceiling. I'll drink water."

"Whatever," I laughed, "see you shortly."

The stairs were nothing when I was in this type of mood. I headed up, changed into a pair of faded blue jeans, an off white turtleneck sweater and re combed the ponytail. I only added eyeliner and eye shadow out of habit. I mean, girls are girls, we're supposed to look like girls, right? Back down the stairs I went after checking my appearance one more time. Slut? Whatever. I was cute. Sluts were well-ridden, old looking.

I slid my well stockinged feet into the motorcycle boots loving the feel of the leather barrier. I grabbed my Thermos and filled it with the rest of the hot coffee and grabbed four granola bars to snack on at the range. Two for me and two for Tiffany; we both liked the peanut butter flavored. I readjusted the pony to the lower part of my head and put my bright purple beanie on. I loved that hat even if it did look funky against my red hair.

Checking the blowing snow one more time I opted to take a scarf, both my fingerless and fingered gloves and my heavy leather riding jacket. I had extra nylons in the glove compartment of my truck for cold days and hunting season. As I mentioned before, I don't do dresses. The nylons would come in handy under my jeans if it were too cold in the Rut Shooters range.

The sky was almost frightening and would have been if I were easily scared. It was eerie with the snow coming down and whirling around. I was unable to even place the sun, unable to even place the cloud covered orb that was usually the sun during such a day. The trees resembled icy hands whipping in the wind, the birds and squirrels that made their homes in them long since gone or asleep due to the early snow. I shivered. I didn't know if it was from the thick and heavy feeling in the air or from the cold, either way I just wanted to get going.

My truck and I bumped over the road towards Tiffany's, wondering if the street were ever going to get fixed and what the hell the road crews were actually dong if the street was still this bumpy. I cranked the stereo playing AC/DC Who Made Who to cover the howl of the wind outside. So this wasn't my best decision ever. Better than getting married for shits and giggles in Vegas.

Saturday: Part Four

"Amber." He almost made me feel like an asshole. Almost. His eyes told me I was being a jerk, that Mike really was worried.

I reached up and put my palm on his cheek, "I wasn't going to keep the fax. I won't go looking for Mr. Scarey, okay?" I dropped my hand and started to walk toward the kitchen to get Mike something warm and caffeinated to drink when he grabbed my wrist.

"I can't stay, not today. The blizzard is supposed to get worse. I'm going to take the fax and go. And you are going to drop this."

I stared at him, choosing my words carefully. I knew what I should say but if he was just taking my work and going? Yeah, I was a little miffed at the guy. To say the least.

I drove steel spikes full of malice into him with my eyes. I knew I had no leg to stand on, I also knew noone in Great Falls, judges anyway, would side against either of us over a teeney little fax. I glared at Detective Timothy and said the most venomous words I could at that moment, "Mike, you are a big jerk. You really believe I'll just drop this? I figured that this guy I got the fax from knows a lot more in the conclusion department than he's lettin' on. And h-"

"Damnit, Amber, enough!" He shook as he yelled, his eyes having then lost the worry. He was Detective Michael Timothy at that moment. Crap. He's really mad. "This bullshit ain't happenin! You aren't a detective! You're a fucking slut lawyer!"

I didn't even think. I balled up my fist and punched him square in the chest. I heard the hot air escape all at once.

"Slut?! What the fuck, Mike? What the hell's gotten into you? Slut?" It hurt and pissed me off all at the same time (anger is always another emotion). He was supposed to be the "nice guy".

"I can arrest you. Obstruction," he glanced at the fax mess, "interception, assault. On. A. Fucking. Cop!"

A snicker escaped. Again with inappropriate laughter. I put my finger in his chest, pushing him towards the couch.

"You verbally assaulted me! I'll get your fax together and you can get the hell out! Hart will just send me another copy anyway."

Jerk. I thought as I gathered the fax into a folder. I'll just ask someone else to get me a copy or maybe, if he wasn't too pissed, maybe Hart would get me another copy. I heard the familiar beep-beep of a cell being dialed. I stood and looked to Mike who was sneering bitterly.

"This is Detective Timothy. I know you're out of the office for the weekend, Ralph, but I need you to call me the moment you get this message. It's in regard to one of your attorneys Amber Wright. Seems Ms. Wright is taking it upon herself to tamper with evidence, have a personal fax meant for me sent to her fax, assault me -"

I couldn't believe what he was doing! Mike was calling a Senior Associate, a partner, and tattling like a two year old! He left his number and urged my boss to call him immediately.

Shoving the fax at him, I turned him towards the door. The familiar sting of tears promised to cascade and I didn't want him to see. Even if they were tears of I-hate-you-Detective-Jerkoff-Timothy!

"You need to go! First you call me a slut out of random, then you call my boss? What are you? 2?"

I grabbed the door handle, twisted and yanked all at once. At the same time I was opening the door, I was trying to push Mike out of it. He did a hop stumble onto the porch.

"Wait. I need to apologize." The back of his head was close enough I could headbutt the big jerk if it weren't for neighbors.

"I'm sorry I called you a slut. That was anger and jealousy. Nothing to do with this." He held up the file. "I heard about you and James."

He turned to face me. His eyes clouding over, he looked truly repentent. Good. His hand clung to the jam.

"I suggest you move your hand if you want to keep your fingers. You're getting snow in my house."

"I'm not apologizing for calling Ralph though. That's for your own good. I've seen all the bodies. You don't know what this is. Please. For your own safety, just be an attorney til this all goes away."

"You're still getting snow in my house. Let go of the door or I'll slam your fingers in it. You have five seconds. 1."

Mike let go and I slammed the door. Thud! I listened to see if I could hear him leave over the bellow of the wind. I heard the engine, he sat there warming his vehicle for a good five minutes as I stood with my arms crossed over my chest, my back to the door waiting. Finally I heard him go.

Saturday: Part Three

My fingers drummed out the questions as my mind asked them. I checked my email. There was a message from my biker friend:

Hey, Babe,
Nothing here. Family's accounted for.
Try getting ahold of me one of these days for some fun.

I shivered at the last sentence, maybe.

So the bad guys weren't involved; I knew, of course, by then they wouldn't be. Well. Then. Ten or more decades of mutilations, multiple puncture wounds, rips and tears that mimicked animal attacks, lack of social, no. Lack of family ties for the victims. Except one. One girl didn't fit. Hart's.

I dug her case out. She'd gone missing for almost a week before they found her broken body in a park. Like everyone else, she was left in plain sight. I stared at the photos from her crime scene. I looked at the girl, left in a pile, her eyes staring. Geez! Effin gruesome! I looked at how her body was left. In a pile. There were three trees in the photos. Giant pines, like sentinels guarding her until she was taken home. Her face started taking on a familiarity from looking at her for so long.

The sound of someone trying to break down my door startled me. Shit. Mike. Had to be. Only cops knocked like that. Well, no point in ignoring him, he'd just keep beating the hell out of my door.

"Who is it?" I tried to sound chipper and inquisitive, rather than annoyed and resolved.

"Who the hell do you think it is? You have something that belongs to me!"

Somebody was really grouchy! I tried not to smile as I opened the door to find a very cold, very snow covered, very p.o'ed Detective Michael Timothy. He glowered at me and I just grinned as I opened the door and stepped aside.

"Wow, Mike, you came in a blizzard just to see me? How flattering!"

Mike's eyes glared into my soul. For a cop he could be scary as hell. Poor bad guys. I tried not to giggle. Giggling at the wrong time was a particular tic I hated.

"Why did you hijack the fax intended for me? I could arrest you."

"No you can't. I accidentally gave the wrong fax number! I was in such a state yesterday," I batted my eyelashes. Mike continued to look like Death in a Badge, "you know from standing in brains, I just grabbed the fax and came home."

My stomach did a couple of somersaults. Easy, tummy, no brains today. Another giggle escaped.

"Where's the fax, Amber? I want it right now!" He looked around and when he spotted the pictures and cases strewn all over he turned back to me with acid in his eyes. "This is not vandals or simple robberies, Amber, this is murder! This isn't a game, this isn't a fucking hobby!"

Mike had ahold of my arms, his cold fingers digging into my skin. The look in his eyes was something more than anger then, he looked scared or worried. Anger is always caused by another emotion and Mike was in pain. Damnit.

"You see the files," I shrugged out of his grip, "get a grip. Sit down. Have some coffee. I might even tell you what I've figured out."