Carrie
"Hey, look," Oliver was announcing as the three of us walked into the precinct looking like a weird, happy family. Jenn was still chatting with Charlotte and not hearing what they were saying, but contrarily, I could have cared less about their inane ramblings and was focusing in on whatever the detectives were saying about me.
"Carrie has an illegitimate love child."
"You have some explaining to do, Kimberly," Clapp mentioned.
"Okay, before I begin to tell you everything that is wrong with that sentence, I remind you that her girlfriend is in the room. Behave."
"Hi," I exhaled, leading them both to where the detectives were sitting. "Sorry, I'm babysitting tonight."
They erupted into laughter at the idea of it.
"You?" Clapp spat out in disbelief, probably only able to believe it because the proof was right before him.
"Yes, me," I said tersely. "This is Charlotte."
I saw Kim trying to hold in laughter, before she clarified, "Carrie...Carrie...and Charlotte?"
I rolled my eyes, knowing where this was going. "Yes, Kim, go ahead and say it."
"Are Samantha and Miranda out waiting in the car?"
"And, there it is," I said unceremoniously. "You're too funny for your own good."
Jenn was the only one who laughed at Kim's joke while the rest of the detectives scratched their heads.
"I don't get it," Bagley said out loud, to which the rest of them began to chorus similar sentiments.
"You wouldn't," I said flatly. "You're men."
"Can we listen to whatever you guys have before Carrie's sister murders us both?" Jenn requested, sitting down with them.
"Can't very well investigate your own homicide, can you, Carver?" noted Clapp.
"I'd find a way," she shrugged. "I sure as hell don't trust you guys with it."
"That's why we're sex crimes."
"What is a sex crime?" Charlotte asked again.
"Good move, Detective," I muttered.
"I'm sorry," Clapp shrugged. "I'm not child proof."
"Well figure it out," I urged.
"Hey, Charlotte," Clapp lit up. "Wanna see how we listen to an old telephone call?"
"That's the same tactic you used with my intern," I pointed out.
"Well stop bringing children in here, and I won't have to no more," he quipped quietly.
"She wasn't a child when you were hitting on her," Kim noted.
"Excuse me?"
"Okay," Bagley said. "Play the tape from the bug."
"I'm sorry, I'm confused," I admitted. "Kim, you tapped your phone on purpose?"
"Technically, no," she said. "With a tap neither party is aware that the conversation is being recorded. I just taped it with an inline recorder."
"God, this is going to be really messy if she did leave you."
"Let's remain positive," she suggested. "Listen to the tape."
Clapp pressed the button and it was Grace's irritating little soprano that I heard first.
"Hello?"
"Grace, it's Kim."
"I know."
"Can we talk?"
"I'm afraid you don't want to hear what I have to say."
"I can take it, Grace, whatever the answer is. I just want to know what happened."
It sounded like Grace was sniffing a couple times, crying quietly. I say it sounded like it was Grace because I sure as hell knew it wasn't Kim.
"It's better if we're apart."
"What makes you say that?"
There was a pause, and some background noise. It sounded like traffic in the distance, and I made a mental note to think urban, if and when we went looking.
"I don't think you love me the way I love you. I need someone who is going to be close to me, and you need someone who's not so high maintenance. I..." she took in some air, and at this point she was positively crying. "I don't think you were ready for a commitment. But I can't wait anymore."
"Where are you?" was all Kim said, not the type to plead or beg.
"Don't come looking. This was hard for me to do, but I made up my mind and I can't go back."
"I understand. But I need to know that you're safe."
"I'm safe," she said shakily.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm fine, but I have to go now. I'll, um..."
There was some more noise that I couldn't make out before she spoke again, but this time her sobs were channeled only into a whisper.
"I love you. I'm sorry."
And then the line went out.
It was quiet for a little while, so I took the liberty of speaking first.
"Well, points for self awareness," was what I said. "She really nailed herself on the high maintenance part. Looks like captivity has been quite the period of personal growth for her."
"Okay, Carrie, you can sit this part of the investigation out," Kim said.
"Do you want my input or don't you?"
"On the phone call, yes. On my relationship, no."
"I'm sorry, I'm an all or nothing kind of woman."
"What does it sound like to you?" Kim asked to everyone else, ignoring me for the time being.
"Sounds like you got dumped," Oliver said, painfully honestly.
"Sounds like she's having second thoughts," Bagley said.
"You guys are off," Clapp said. "There's someone else with Grace."
"I'm with Clapp," I agreed. "It sounds like duress."
"My thoughts too," Kim said, giving up on that cute little ignoring-me charade rather quickly.
"Rewind to towards the beginning of the call," Jenn instructed. "Right before Grace says, 'You don't love me the way I love you.'"
Clapp did so, getting in on the strange noises that preceded it.
"Anyone else hear a voice?"
"Yes," Griffin agreed. "Can you isolate it?"
Clapp toyed around with the technology, as was his favorite activity at the precinct, and several moments later, had gotten the weird mumbles alone.
"Sounds male," Bagley analyzed. "Adult, white."
"That's speculation," I muttered.
"Then we'll strike it from the records of this conversation," Kim deadpanned.
"But what's he saying?" Clapp questioned.
"He's telling Grace what to say," I hypothesized. "Why else would she have paused like that? I mean, besides the obvious."
"The obvious?" Kim repeated.
"That she forgot how to pronounce the next word?"
"Carrie--"
"That line, 'You don't love me the way I love you,'" Clapp went back. "Is that something Grace would've said on her own?"
"I mean, the words, maybe," Kim considered. "But I just don't think that was how she was feeling when she left. The night before, like, literally, the night before, we were talking, and...I told her, that...Well, anyway. Yeah."
"Told her that what?" I pressed.
"Nothing," she lied. "It's stupid."
"It's relevant."
"You guys are going to think I'm soft," she whined, leaning her head back.
"But if you tell us, we might solve two rape homicides," Clapp noted. "So that trumps. Spill."
"It's just...The night before Grace left, we were just talking, and...I mean, I just told her, basically how I didn't trust most people, but that I trust her."
"Well that's a kick in the balls to the rest of us," I said bitterly.
"God, Carrie, if you want my trust that badly, date me for two years, okay?"
"I don't give a shit about your trust," I decided. "I just care about my conviction rate, so, anything else?"
"Ideas on who the voice belonged to?" Griffin conducted.
"Captor," I threw out. "Gang member, drug dealer, ex-con on parole, or, here's a thought, secret lover."
"She's gay," Kim argued, not in the mood.
"So what, we're entertaining the idea that she changed her mind about a two-year relationship and yet it's completely out of the question that she could change her mind about dick?"
"Carrie," Jenn whispered. "Language."
"Hey, you have to consider all possibilities," Clapp agreed, which was him agreeing with me for the second time tonight, and probably, for the second time ever.
"Maybe she was in a public place and the voice was just background noise," Jenn offered up.
"That's a possibility," Oliver agreed. "I heard traffic."
"But the pause," I reiterated. "Why the pause?"
"Maybe she was distracted," Clapp tried.
"From a conversation like that?" Kim reminded him.
"Don't rule it out," I said. "You all keep forgetting that it's Grace we're talking about. We're going to have to suspend normal adult human logic now and again, especially when it concerns the victim's cognitive functions."
"You know what, Carrie, thank you for your time. You know the way out."
"Did the phone give you a relative location?" I asked, ignoring the dismissal she didn't quite mean.
"It was dead when we tried last time," Clapp explained. "But Kim talked to her an hour ago, so we're going to try it again."
"Great," I said, standing up. "Let me know when you get something. I have to take my niece home before my sister has a conniption fit."
"Thanks for coming down," Clapp said.
"Do I need to stay?" Jenn asked them, both of us hoping that the answer was no; her because she wanted to go play house, and me because I didn't want to play house, definitely not alone.
"No, go ahead," Griffin said. "It's your night off. We'll call if anything."
***
"She's kind of cute when she sleeps," I confessed begrudgingly that night, once Charlotte had gone to bed on my couch after hours of following Jennifer around in complete adulation. It was clear that she thought the world of Jenn, which had rendered me a little bit sentimental. The truth was that sometimes I did entertain the idea of raising children, however briefly, and when I did, I pictured doing so with Jennifer. I knew that if I gave her the opportunity, she would make a great mother, and the way Charlotte adored her was only validation of that truth. I just felt kind of guilty about the fact that I didn't know whether that day would ever come.
"She's cute all the time," Jenn corrected. "She's a really sweet kid."
"Yeah, so, Jackie didn't ruin her completely, I guess."
I went over to pour two glasses of red wine, handing one to Jenn as I slid open the screen door to my apartment's balcony. That balcony had been the reason I'd bought the loft in the first place, and I rarely found myself with a minute to enjoy it. But now I'd had the night off, despite the short interruption. Jennifer was off too, and Charlotte was asleep, and we had wine, and it wasn't raining yet and so...Why not?
She followed me outside and looked over the railing as she continued the conversation.
"She hasn't ruined her at all," she promised. "You have to be proud."
"You guys really seemed to get along," I noticed, swirling my wine around in the glass with my wrist over the railing. "I think she likes me better knowing that I'm with you."
"Well, I think she likes us together," she compromised as though the kid's affection was the result of a collaborative effort. She laughed slightly, and I waited for her to elaborate, which she did. "She told me you should stop kissing me so much, or you're going to get me pregnant."
That made me laugh, looking off into the distance, at the skyline. "Is that how it happens?"
"Apparently. You might want to wear protection next time."
"Noted."
She smiled, leaning against the balcony's railing and staring off. It was me who spoke next.
"Are we going to talk about what else she said?"
"What would that be, Counselor?" she invited, playing dumb though she knew full well.
I turned to face her, giving her no other option but to look straight at me and into me. By her expression, I could tell that I was making her nervous, and despite the affection that she had to know that I felt for her, my face remained steely and serious.
"Do you love me, Jennifer?"
She visibly swallowed, looking down at the ground before summoning the courage to look back up at me.
"Yes," she nearly whispered. "I do. Very much."
Now it was my turn to stare at the ground.
"Really?" I asked though clearly she hadn't been lying.
"You have to know that by now," she said quietly.
"I don't know what love is," I said honestly.
"Sure you do," she encouraged.
"I'm a cognitive person, I'm not a feeling person," I explained. "And you know, I've asked myself before, if what I felt about you, if that's what love is, and I still don't know. I know I like being with you way too much, and when you're gone I miss you, and when you're working I worry about you, and when I'm working I think about you. And I can't stay mad at you, and when I look at you I just think about kissing you. And when I think about myself, and I think about my future, I think about you being in it. And I think that, if she were standing right where you are now, any girl would just want to hear an 'I love you too.' But I'm a prosecutor. I don't blow smoke, I state the facts. So, there they are. And, I'm sorry I'm not as romantic as I should be."
I expected her to walk off then and there, maybe in tears or maybe just in anger, but she surprised me by kissing me there in the cool air, hanging hundreds of feet above the rest of the city.
"I don't want you to say anything you're not sure you mean," she said. "I want you to tell me the truth, and I know that since we've been together, that's all I've gotten."
"I didn't say that nearly as well as I wanted to," I exhaled. "Jenn, I care about you way more than I'm letting on right now. I, just...I don't show these things."
"You don't need to," she promised. "I understand."
"You do?"
"Sure," she said.
At that point, she set her wine glass on the railing to wrap her arms around her body, as a wind blew and chilled us both. Quickly trying to earn points after my horribly worded speech, I took off my own suit jacket and pulled it around her shoulders. I used the stiff fabric to pull her into me, kissing her once passionately before we heard the doorbell ring from inside.
"Jackie used the bell this time," she noted.
"Of course she did," I shrugged. "If what she walked in on earlier was four thirty, God knows she doesn't want to see midnight."
She just laughed, retreating into the apartment. I went to get the door and was surprised and a little bit relieved to see none other than Counselor Byron Birchmier standing in my sister's place.
"Byron," I immediately said, not bothering to hide the fact that I'd been expecting someone a little shorter with a little less testosterone. "Come in."
"Nice to see you again, Carrie," he greeted. "Hi, Jennifer. How was she?"
"Demonic," I said.
"Really?"
"No," Jennifer assured him. "She was perfect."
Byron pulled several large bills out of his front pocket, totaling at least a hundred, and likely more.
"This is for tonight. Thank you."
"No, no, no, absolutely not," I protested, pushing his hand back. "Really, it was my pleasure." That was a lie, but whatever. In truth, I knew that he thought that being a state's attorney was the legal equivalent of living in a third world country, and that by floating me that many bills, maybe he could get me vaccinated against malaria or something. I could picture him doing a PSA for his campaign, standing there with me and saying, "For just ten dollars a day, you can feed this state's attorney. Don't leave poor Carrie out in the cold."
"Come on, Carrie, please let me pay you."
"I make enough money," I guaranteed him, as I knew that was the underlying issue.
"Jacqueline said you might say that," he shrugged, putting the cash back in his left pocket and reaching into the right. "So she sent me with this."
In that pocket, he instead pulled out a check made out to me for two hundred dollars. In the memo, it read "To get that crown molding removed. Please."
Signed Jacqueline Everett Birchmier.
I rolled my eyes, putting the check on the counter, making a mental note to tear it tomorrow. She'd know I never cashed it, but at least Byron would stop pushing his charity on me tonight.
"Charlotte's sleeping in the living room," I explained, expecting that he'd want the process hastened.
"Great," he said, letting himself in and going to wake her up. He was very paternal jostling her awake, I noticed, and I mentally decided that even if he was a lousy attorney, a lousier politician, and an allover pretty lousy human being, maybe he was at least a decent father.
"Hey, kid," he smiled as she started to stir. "You miss me?"
She nodded, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?"
"Around midnight," he told her. "You ready to go? I have an early day tomorrow."
"Doing what?"
He shrugged, not knowing how to explain it to a child. "Campaign stuff."
"Again?"
He just smiled. "Hey, if I'm gonna be president someday, right?"
Her face was completely expressionless as she replied without missing a second.
"Aunt Carrie says don't hold your breath."