"This isn't weird, me asking you to come here... is it?" Kyla asks as we both take a seat with our coffee's in hand.
"No." I shake my head and smile. "It's fine." I assure her.
"Kay good, cause I don't want to seem like a creeper or anything." She says and makes a face that I can't help but laugh at.
"So..." I start, sipping my delicious coffee. "Was there a particular reason you wanted to meet here or..." I trail off.
"Not really, no." She shakes her head and smiles.
"So, just for coffee then?" I ask to clarify. I don't know if you're getting that vibe but I'm kinda feeling like this is a date.
"Yup." She nods and sips her coffee. Looking every which way but at me.
"Kyla, you know that I'm-"
"Yes!" She cuts me off abruptly. I stare at her and wait for her to continue but she just looks off into the distance. She's a peculiar one I tell you.
"Kyla." I say and she whips her head around.
"Hmm?" She says, raising her brows.
"What's this about?" I ask with a smile, placing my coffee on the table.
"I'm not like gay or anything." She says and turns away again.
Ooooookay?
Did you hear me ask her if she was gay?
Cause maybe I missed that part.
"Kyla." I say her name again and she bites the inside of her jaw like she's trying to hold back a smile.
"You've been to visit Spencer every day right?" She asks and I nod.
"Yeah, we've had a lot of things to discuss." What is she getting at here?
"Hmph." She says and turns away again. This chick couldn't be more cryptic right now if she tried.
"Kyla!" I say again, this time in a louder voice.
"Fine." She drawls out and places her coffee on the table. "Spencer talks about you a lot, like when I visit." She says and I gesture for her to continue. "That's it." She shakes her head and shrugs, picking up her coffee and drinking it.
"That's it?" I question.
"Yup." She nods. This has to be one of the most pointless conversations I have ever had in my life. I laugh at the smaller brunette sitting across from me as I receive a phone call.
"Hello." I answer.
"Ash, meet me at the crime lab now." Is all Jackson says and hangs up.
"I've got to go." I tell Kyla, standing up from my chair. She nods and smiles in understanding as I hastily make my way to my car.
–
"What is it?" I ask Jackson, who's standing by the door waiting for me. He quickly turns and walks back into the building and I just follow him. Once we reach the door of the crime lab we go inside and a short fair complexion man with thick rimmed glasses and a balding head approaches us.
"Tell her what you just told me, George." Jackson says to the man who only nods.
"Well..." He starts as she scurries—with a limp, back to his microscope he'd just vacated. Jackson and I follow on his heels. "As you may..." he pauses and looks at me. "Or may not know." What is that supposed to mean? "Most guns have their own unique identifying features and even though the gun was not left at the crime scene, many degrees of information can be determined from the bullet, the nature of the wound and any residue left around it. Now, we know that this bullet," He says picking the bullet up with tweezers from off his microscope tray. "went through the victims hand, through a wall and a fence, then lodged itself into a tree. See the bullet isn't in the most pristine condition. But," He says as smiles, placing the bullet back down. "It was still in good enough condition to be identifiable."
"And what does that mean exactly?" I ask and he smiles wide.
"Glad you asked." He says and looks through the lens of the microscope. "Take a look and tell me what you see." Do we really have to play this game right now?
"Uh..." I say looking into the lens. "A bullet?" I shrug and step back. Seriously though, that's all I see.
"Correct!" He shrieks like I just solved the most difficult puzzle known to man. "You see precisely what everyone else sees when they look through the lens." I glance over at Jackson who shrugs and slightly shakes his head. "What some people don't realize is that each weapon's barrel, contains small ligatures and grooves, which, when a bullet is fired from them, make marks on the shell casing, which can be used as a means of identifying the make and model of gun if these shell casings are found at the scene. But!" He shrieks again.
Oh my God, if this guy doesn't tell me already I'm liable to pick that bullet up and throw it at him.
"Is there a-" Jackson cuts me off with an elbow in my side. I look up and him and he shakes his head.
"It's a process he has to go through, Ash." He whispers and I roll my eyes. Well this process is holding me the fuck up.
"We can also tell by the grooves and type of bullet, what kind of gun was used." He says and I sigh. Well that was anticlimactic.
"So you're...Ow!" I shriek as Jackson elbows me again. I look at him and he just shakes his head.
"This is a bullet that has been recently fired, in this lab of course, from the victims Ruger .22 single action pistol, which was recovered from the scene." He says putting up a slide on a projector. "And this." He says, putting another slide over the previous one, but both pictures are still visible on the screen. "Is the bullet you guys found. Look at the groove marks and the size and not to mention the color."
"They're completely different." I whisper out.
"Precisely." George says. "That's because this bullet," He points at the second slide he put up. "Was fired from an entirely different gun. A Glock 22 .40 CAL." He tells us with a huge grin on his face.
Clearly this man loves his job a little too much.
"Isn't that..." I trail off and look up and Jackson.
"I was thinking the exact same thing." Jack cuts me off and nods.
Interesting...
–
"Well hello there." Spencer says in an upbeat tone.
"You're mighty happy today." I point out as the guard cuffs her to the table and leaves.
She shrugs and smiles. "Today has been a good day, and it's only getting better." She smiles a smile that I can't help but return.
"Well, I'm glad you're having a good day. I have news. We finally got the ballistics back on that bullet we found at the scene and it turns out that it was fired from an entirely different gun, not your husbands." I tell her and she gives me a confused look.
"So, what does that mean?" She asks, sitting back.
"There was a second gun, a Glock 22 .40 Caliber to be exact. The DA's office is gonna have a hard time trying to explain that one to the jury." I tell her with a smile. I know this isn't the slam dunk I've been looking for or anything but it's definitely close.
"You're really something you know." She tells me suddenly and my smile disappears. "You're doing all this stuff for me, someone you don't even know, and for what? You're not being paid, yet you're still treating this case like you would any other one." She says and gauges my face for a reaction. I don't know what to say. I can't draw my eyes away from her lips.
Fuck this! I think to myself and get up from the table. My chair practically flying into the wall behind me.
I go bang on the door for the guard to come. When he opens the door I demand he take the cuffs off Spencer.
"I could get in so much trouble." He tells me. He's failing to understand that I really don't give a fuck. I yell at him to take them off before I have his job, and being the young naïve guy he is, he complied.
"Thank you, that's all." I tell him, shooing him out of the room. Spencer stands still in the spot the guard had removed her cuffs from as I turn around and stare at her. She's confused. Both of our chest heaving up and down rapidly.
"Ashley, what's-" But she doesn't get to finish that sentence. I gently slam her against the wall opposite of the door and my lips are attacking hers, my tongue immediately begging for entrance. She opens her mouth wider to wordlessly grant that entrance. When our tongues meet she lets out a throaty moan that does all types of things to my already drenched center. "Ashley." She pulls back and calls my name again. I scan her face, looking for any signs that she wanted me to stop. But she smirked and pulled me back into her, letting our bodies get lost together.
"I've wanted you so bad, since the day I first met you." I whisper in her ear as she unbuttons the buttons on my suit jacket.
"Shh." She tells me, ripping off my jacket and discarding it...somewhere. "Don't talk, just do this." She says guiding my hand down the front of her body and into her own pants.
"Trust me, I've wanted you too." She whispers out in a raspy voice that sends shivers down my spine.
"Please." She begs me, looking straight into my eyes. She doesn't have to say it for me to know what she's asking. I answer her plea. "Ashley...Ashley...ASHLEY!"
"Huh?" I say and look up from the desk separating us, then at Spencer's hands that are still cuffed to the table.
"Where'd you go just now?" She asks me with a smirk. Oh God, was I moaning out loud? I swallow the lemon in my throat.
"I um... I was just thinking about the case that's all." I tell her and she nods and smiles.
"Right." She says in a disbelieving tone. "The case." I look up at her and she smiles wider.
Yup... I was totally just thinking about how great winning this case could be.