Tonya Muir - Exposure Season 1

"No," she responds quickly, rising from her chair. "No, Harper, it’s not that." She runs her hand through her hair and I know she’s trying to get the courage to tell me something. "It’s just ... if this person is following me, I don’t want him to see me talking to the cops. Your friend’s been on TV with those murders and I don’t want my admirer to think I ratted on him."

I understand her fear now. "Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry." I try my best lopsided grin, knowing I shouldn’t have gotten so defensive with her. We’ve both been trying.

"Can I talk to him here?"

"Yeah. I’m sorry, Little Roo. I should have thought about that." I should have, too. How the fuck am I supposed to keep my promise to her if I lose my ability to think after one sleepless night? I’ve had a shitload of sleepless nights before. Of course they were filled with arousing activity and not sitting on a curb with a thermos of coffee. I guess the arousing activity was more stimulating than Maxwell House. Hell, I know it was. I am glad to say, though, that Susan didn’t spend the night. She left just before midnight and I refrained from stuffing a banana up her tailpipe. Ooh, another thing that sounds dirty, but isn’t.

"Let’s order pizza," she suggests. "My treat."

I guess I’ve been forgiven.

* * *

Bear smiles nervously when I introduce him to Kelsey. "Pleasure," he manages, blushing to his roots.

Kelsey smiles back politely, obviously used to eliciting this reaction. "Thanks for coming here, Detective Brice."

"Call me Ted, please."

"No, call him Bear," I interject. I motion to the two pies lying on my desk. "Come on, let’s eat while it’s hot."

We settle around the desk to gorge ourselves on pizza. It is topped with pepperoni, sausage and hamburger. Kels makes a face as I pick up the first slice to my mouth. I pause in mid-bite. "What?"

"Is anything on four legs safe around you?"

"Chér, most things with two legs aren’t safe around me," I reply, giving her my most lascivious look.

"Hand me a slice," Kelsey answers, surprising me. Who knew she could flirt? Was she flirting?

Bear chuckles at my discomfort. "Ms. Stanton, when did the gifts begin?"

"It’s Kelsey. They began the day after Erik received the Popular Pick’s award. It started off with a dozen roses and a note."

"And how many have you received now?"

"About one every other day for the last three weeks. Flowers, chocolates, stuffed animals, balloons, little poetry books, all that type of stuff. All with the same note: ‘From a Secret Admirer.’ Until yesterday when he put the dead roses in my car." She shivers, and it’s not from the cold.

"Do you still have that first note, Kels?" I ask, remembering she put it in her desk drawer.

"I think so. Want me to go get it?"

"That would be great if you could, Ms … Kelsey."

"Excuse me," she says, wiping her mouth and hands. I watch her leave, noticing yet again that she has a perfectly proportioned body. Damn Susan.

Bear catches me lusting after her but wisely says nothing. "Jesus, Harper, that means she’s received more than ten gifts from this nut."

"Some at home, some here, some in her fucking car. He’s called her at home, on her unlisted number."

"We need to get her some protection."

I laugh. "I don’t think she needs condoms."

He joins me, grateful for a break in the tension. "I’ll speak to Greg Komansky, he’s head of the Threat Management Unit."

"Nice euphemism."

"Well, we didn’t want to call it Stalkers Anonymous for God’s sake."

I wonder what’s taking Kelsey so long. I look over at her office and see her curled up in her chair, crying. "Bear!" I call as I am bounding out of my office and into hers.

On the floor are scattered pictures of her, and me, and Erik, and Susan. She’s clutching a note in her hand mindlessly. I remove it, trying to only touch it at its corners and place it on the desk. It reads "You belong to me."

"Come here," I say, even as I take her into my arms. She hugs me readily. Our boundaries are forgotten in the midst of crisis, as per standard operating procedure with us. I enfold her in a strong embrace, rocking her gently, whispering calming words.

Bear is gathering up the photographs with a gloved hand. He’s scared, I can tell. So am I.

"We need to get Komansky over here now, Harper. I want a written report on file. She needs to start keeping a diary of the incidents and report each of them. And it’s time to get a bodyguard."

"No, no bodyguard," Kelsey protests against me.

I don’t release her. "Yes, a bodyguard. Me."

"You?" she echoes.

"Me."

She stares at me for a long moment, her green eyes still wet with tears. "Okay."

"Good. Glad that’s settled." And that means no Susan. At least, I hope it does.

Bear interrupts us as he lumbers to his feet. "I’m going to take these things in to the station, Harper. I’ll call you later."

"Thanks, bud." I say over Kelsey’s head. It feels so good holding her.

But she’s moving away from me now, wiping away her tears and reaching for the phone. "I need to call Susan," she explains.

Damn.

"And tell her not to come over tonight. It’s not safe."

"No, it’s not," I readily agree. Because if she comes over, I’ll be there. Definitely not safe for her.

"Thanks, Harper."

"Hey, what are partners for?" Unfortunately, we’re still talking partners in the non-sexual sense here.

* * *

I roll over and face the back of the couch. Kels offered me the guestroom, but if I can’t be with her I want to be near the only entrance into this joint.

So the sofa it is. Kelsey has good taste and it’s not horribly uncomfortable for a sofa. I’ve slept on a hell of a lot worse, with and without company. The pillow came off of Kels’ bed and I have to admit it’s got me so distracted I can’t sleep.

I’d know the smell of her shampoo anywhere and this ain’t it. Susan must have been the last one to use this pillow. I toss it to the end of the couch. Rolling up one of the two blankets, I place it under my head instead.

As I turn back over, I glance at the bedroom door and notice a light is still creeping out of it. She left it slightly cracked when she went to bed. I look to my watch. One-thirty in the morning. Hell, she went to bed hours ago.

I get up and move to the door, knocking softly. "Little Roo?"

No answer. I push the door open and find her sleeping. She’s curled up tight under the blankets and as I approach the bed I can tell she’s been crying. God, she must be terrified.

While I’m not wild about Susan, some part of me feels guilty that she’s not here to offer Kelsey the comfort I can’t. Well, that she won’t let me give her. God knows I want to.

There is a book laying next to her, "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil." At least her reading tastes are excellent. Nothing better than a book set in the deep south. However, maybe not the best choice for her at the moment.

I take the book and place it on the night stand as I let my fingers brush through her hair just once. It’s as soft as I remember and my touch lingers a moment longer than necessary. "No one will hurt you while I’m around, Kels. I promise."

Snapping off the light, I leave her room and close the door behind me.

<fade out>

I hear the incessant knocking on Harper’s office door and I glance over to see a messenger holding an envelope. I finally get up from my desk and move to my doorway.

"You know, it doesn’t take a mental giant to figure out after five friggen minutes that she’s not in there."

The pimply face messenger with the headsets still doesn’t hear me. Maybe it’s the heavy metal music he’s listening too, full blast, on his cd player that’s rusted his ears shut. I step forward and tap him on the shoulder. He jumps forward and bangs his head on the door.

Dipshit.

I smirk as he rubs his head and turns around holding out the thick yellow envelope to me.

"You wanna sign for it?" he asks as he chomps his gum.

No, you stupid little turd I want to smack you into the middle of next week.

Instead I take his pen and sign his book so he will take his purple spiked head out of my immediate viewing area. Jesus, I remember a time when clean-cut got you the job.

As I turn the envelope over in my hands I see it’s from a travel agent. Harper must be going somewhere for the holidays. I wonder who the lucky girl is and what waters of the Caribbean they’re gonna be scaring the fish in.

I return to my desk and my paperwork, tossing the envelope down on the corner of my desk. Some people have all the luck.

An hour or so later, as I lean back in my chair and stretch, I see her come in.

"Hey, Tabloid!" I call as I wave her into my office.

She sticks her head in and gives me a wide, ornery grin. "Yeeesssss…."

I can’t help, but laugh at the silly look on her face as I gesture toward the envelope. "Messenger from Heavy Metal Hell delivered that about an hour ago."

She practically bounces into my office.

"Oh goody!" She snatches the envelope from the corner of my desk.

"Somebody hit you with a giant happy stick today?"

"Yeah, well." She opens the envelope and gives the contents a quick check. "I haven’t been home in almost four months…."

Oh, a whole four months? Christ, Tabloid, I haven’t been home in ten years. Except, of course, for the occasional court appearance.