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A New Choice Continued...
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Nottingham fought back a smile. He loved it when she was angry - their bond was closer when her emotions were pure, not muddled by the frustration and annoyance that so frequently colored them. With her anger, he could feel the Witchblade's pull at him, and it was all he could do not to reach out and touch it. Instead, Nottingham put down his wine glass and folded his hands in his lap, something he'd seen his father do many times. "All I know," he lied, "is that things are rarely as it seems in your life - just like mine." He didn't expect that answer to satisfy her, and it didn't. "Tell me what you know or I'll ... I'll..." Nottingham shot out of his chair to stand only inches from her. "You'll what?" Nottingham watched as her jaw clenched. "You'll beat it out of me? You'll call the police? You'll turn to your partners for help?" A flicker in her eyes showed that hadn't occurred to her. Good. "Can you trust them?" A frown creased the corners of her eyes. "Are you sure?" After a long moment of silence, Sara whirled around and stalked back to her chair. She threw herself into it and took a gulp of wine. "You're just messing with my head." She scowled at him. "You're just like Irons." That stung, but Nottingham didn't let it show. He had at least gotten her thinking about the possibility that she couldn't trust her partners. Now was the hard part: getting her to trust him. "I want to help you." He walked over and crouched beside her chair. "We're connected, you and I." Sara frowned suddenly and her eyes snapped to the Witchblade, which gave a shimmer of red, but quickly subsided. Nottingham reached out to touch the Blade, but stopped before his fingers actually touched it. After a moment of hesitation, he reached into his pocket and held out his hand to Sara. She took the gold-colored bullet casing from his hand, frowning when she saw the engraved black bull. "What's this?" she asked. "It was found at the scene of a recent crime." He stood. "A drug dealer's." Sara's eyes went hazy, and the stone of the Witchblade seethed madly. When her eyes focused again, they were determined. "Jack Bacil. How did you get this?" "I have my ways." Nottingham shrugged as he turned his back to hide his smile. He hadn't found it there, but he was sure there had been one at the crime scene, so his deception was of little consequence. He was pleased, though, to see that Sara had so fully bonded with the Witchblade. He'd known she was having the visions, but it was something else to see how accurate they were. "It's the key," he continued. "To your father, to Jake, to what you need to know." "But you couldn't just tell me." Nottingham turned back to her. "Would you believe me if you didn't find out for yourself? You don't trust me, Sara, and you shouldn't. I haven't earned it. But I will." Sara stared at him for a moment, then looked back down at the casing in her hand. "I would never betray you," Nottingham said. "I am the one that you can trust." ***** "I don't trust him," Sara said as she bounced the bullet casing on her kitchen table. She sighed, then looked up at Tommy's figure in the shadows of her kitchen. "No, that's not true. I trust him to do what's best for the Witchblade. I just don't know what he considers best for the Witchblade." "He's no more untrustworthy than anyone else at the moment," Tommy said. "What does that mean?" Tommy looked a little guilty - as if he hadn't been supposed to say that. "I just meant that there's no reason not to trust him." He shrugged. "Or to trust him." Sara didn't buy that, but she'd already learned that pushing Tommy for answers wasn't going to help. He'd slip up again. Instead, she held up the bullet casing. "So, a black bull." She stared hard at the casing. "This thing has turned up three times now, so I'm guessing it's important to whatever it is that I'm investigating." She counted on her fingers. "You, Jack Bacil, and tonight." She frowned. "Nottingham said it had something to do with my father and Jake, too. Of course, he could have been bullshitting me, but I don't think so. He doesn't always tell the whole truth, but I don't think he lies." She slammed the casing down on the table. "Can't you tell me anything?" "White," Tommy said. "What?" "White bulls, not black," he said quickly. "White bulls is what you're looking--" Before he finished his sentence, he winked out of existence. "Great. White bulls. Another clue." She looked around the apartment, but didn't see any spectral forms anywhere. Just in case, though, she raised her voice. "Thanks, Tommy!" ***** Jake frowned as Sara fiddled with her toast. She looked like she had barely slept, and she'd barely said a word as they waited for their breakfasts to arrive. "All right," he said, giving up. "What's going on with you?" "What?" Sara dropped her toast back onto the greasy plate. "Nothing. Sorry, I just got to sleep late." "Is it just that?" Sara looked at him speculatively, then pushed her plate away and folded her hands on the table. "You tell me." She nodded at him. "Is there something I should know?" Even if he wanted to, Jake couldn't tell her the truth - he'd be stupid to blow his cover to even one person. Granted, Sara was probably the one person in the police department that he could trust, but he still couldn't tell her that he was FBI. He must have hesitated too long, because he saw Sara's face tighten into a mask. "OK." She said and picked her toast back up. "So, I heard you used to be a surfer." "Uh, yeah." He shook his head. "Look, Sara, it's not that there's anything I should tell you, it's just..." He faded off, unable to think of anyway to finish the sentence that wouldn't get him in trouble one way or another. "I just don't want you to get hurt." Sara raised her eyebrows at him as she took a bite of her toast. "I mean, you've been different lately, focused, poking around..." Jake noted her eyes grow hard. "I mean, I just think that you're taking on too much." "Too much what, Jake? What am I poking around in that's got you all worried about me?" she asked, her tone just a little too innocent. Jake wasn't sure how he'd gotten here, but he suddenly found himself in a deep hole. He'd let his mouth run and now he had to find a way to dig himself out. "Oh, I mean, you know, I ..." he grinned at Sara. "I just don't like the way you've been spending all your time at work. You need to get out a little more." He took her hand. "With me." ***** Danny had been more than surprised when Captain Dante had shown up at his door early on his day off. When Dante had told him they were "going for a little drive," Danny didn't see that he could refuse. Lee hadn't been too happy, since he'd promised to try to fix the garbage disposal, but it was his captain - what could he do? Dante hadn't told him where they were going, but they'd driven out of the city and upstate somewhere. Danny didn't get out of the city much, and he'd missed a bunch of highway signs while they'd been talking about hockey, so he didn't have any idea where they were. When the captain turned into a driveway and drove slowly toward a big colonial brick house, Danny wasn't sure what to think. He had no idea where Dante was taking him, but he hadn't expected this. Dante parked the car in a small parking lot on the side of the house and reached into the back for a bouquet of flowers that Danny hadn't noticed. They went to the front door, but when it opened, it wasn't anything like what Danny would have guessed. "Good morning, Bruno!" a woman in a nurse's uniform said. "We didn't expect to see you until the weekend. And what pretty flowers!" "Just had to see my girl, Joan," the captain answered, with a more genuine smile than Danny had ever seen. "Well, let me put those in some water and I'll bring them right up." The nurse took the flowers from the captain and buried her face in them briefly. "They smell wonderful. She'll love these." The nurse walked off, leaving the two men alone. Now that it was quiet, Danny could hear the faint sound of electronic beeping, but he had no idea from what. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell this place was when Dante smiled and nodded toward the stairs. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." ***** "What?" Sara jerked her hand back. "We're partners, Jake. We work together." "We're also people." Jake shrugged. "What's wrong with a man being attracted to a woman?" Sara felt her eyes go wide. He couldn't possibly be serious. "I thought you were dating the shrink." "She's nice, but she's not you." Jake reached for her hand again, but Sara pulled it away. "What's wrong, Sara?" "This has been one of the most screwed up weeks of my life, and you aren't helping." She shook her head. "Look, just level with me, Jake. I know you're hiding something. What is it?" Again, Jake hesitated too long before he answered. "Nothing. I'm not hiding anything." Sara pushed her chair back and stood up. "I'm tired of people lying to me. I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to find out." ***** Captain Dante opened a door and entered, a big smile on his face. "Morning, cupcake, you're looking pretty today," Dante said cheerfully. As he moved into the room, Danny could see that it was a bedroom, bright yellow with white trim and nice homey furniture - that's why the hospital bed looked so out of place. "I brought someone to meet you, honey." Dante stepped aside so Danny could see who was in the bed. "Danny, this is my daughter Beatrice. Bea, this is Detective Woo - you've heard me talk about him." The young woman didn't move or open her eyes. She was probably about his age, but it was hard to tell. A faint, ragged scar ran across her forehead and into her hair, but that was the only thing that made her look any different than any pretty girl he'd see on the street. Captain Dante looked at him expectantly, so Danny smiled. "Uh, hi, Beatrice," he said. "Nice to meet you." Danny stood around awkwardly as the captain chatted to his daughter about everyday things - the weather, the traffic, a pretty sweater he'd seen that he thought she'd like. All the while, he was rearranging her pillows, smoothing her blanket - all sorts of things that Danny had done for his kids when they were sick. Danny was grateful when the nurse came in with the flowers. After she put them down and described them to Beatrice, the nurse motioned Dante and Danny outside. After telling Beatrice that he would be back to kiss her goodbye, they followed the nurse out. "She's doing well on the new treatment, and her pneumonia has cleared up completely," the nurse reported. "Dr. Schrader says that he doesn't think there will be any long-term complications from it." "Wonderful. Thanks, Joanie." The captain smiled, again, genuinely. "I'll let you get back to her." The nurse winked. "Her vitals always go up when you're here, and I think they'll be even better with your handsome guest." The nurse walked away and Danny turned to the captain. "Why did you bring me here, Cap?" Danny asked, keeping his voice low. "I mean, I'm sorry about whatever's wrong with your daughter, but what's this about?" "Beatrice is what it's about." The captain's smile disappeared. "When she was six, she was raped and beaten by a man who had been released on bail for another case." His jaw clenched tightly. "He was supposed to be under constant surveillance, but the officer who was supposed to be watching him was busy looking for conspiracies. So the bastard got out and found my little girl." Dante stared at the door of his daughter's room. "She never woke up." He blinked his eyes hard and looked back to Danny. "I knew you'd understand. Your niece almost had the same fate. But I took care of the guy who hurt my Queen Bea - and everything I do now is too keep other little girls safe. No matter what it takes. That's what the White Bulls are about." Danny found that his throat was tight, and he had to clear it before he could speak. "I understand. Completely, Captain." "I knew you would." The captain clapped his hand on Danny's
shoulder and squeezed it hard. "Let me go say goodbye, and we'll
get you back to your family." "Who was the cop? The one who should have been watching?" he asked. "James Pezzini." ***** Jake followed Sara out into the cold rain that had started while they had been in the diner. She was walking fast, head down and hands stuffed in her pockets. Jake jogged after her, but didn't catch up with her before she got to her apartment building. After struggling with the heavy outer door, Jake got inside and shook the water out of his hair before heading upstairs. Her door was closed, and he had raised his hand to knock when he heard her talking. "Tommy!" she yelled, loud enough to be heard through her thick red door. "Where are you?" There was a pause as she apparently waited for an answer. "Burgess!" Jake dropped his hand. Tommy Burgess? He was dead. Jake was sure of it. ... Well, pretty sure, anyway. As sure as he could be without going to go dig up the grave - and there was no way he was going to do something crazy like that. So why was Sara calling out to a guy who was dead like she expected him to answer? "Tommy Burgess, get your ghost butt down here!" Sara yelled again. A ghost? ***** Sara kicked at the couch, then fell heavily onto it. Jake was lying to her, and Tommy wasn't showing up just when she needed him. Men. Unreliable, dead or alive. And what was with Jake's sudden interest in getting her out on a date? That was just too weird to be believable. "Tommy!" she called again. "I'm in need of your annoying I-can't-really-tell-you-anything advice! ... Please," she added after a moment. Still no response. So what was she supposed to do now? Well, she could act like a detective instead of a loony and just put in a little work. With a sigh, she sat up and reached for the phone. After dialing a number, she waited while it rang. "Vicky Po. What can I do for you?" the voice at the other end of the line said. "Hey, Vik, it's Sara." "Still hallucinating?" Vicky asked, and Sara could hear the grin in her friend's voice. "Or did you take my medical advice?" "No and no," Sara told her firmly. "Look, your cousin works for the FBI in San Diego, right?" "Melinda. Yeah, she does," Vicky agreed suspiciously. "So?" "So I was hoping you could put me in touch with her. I need a favor." There was a long pause. "OK. I guess I owe you for taking that case the other day. I'll call her and have her call you." She coughed. "So what have you found out about that case?" "Uh, you were right - it is my type of case." She frowned. She'd forgotten that Vicky had wanted her to work on the Bacil case. "Why did you think it was?" "Just, you know, a hunch." "Uh-huh." Sara didn't buy that for a second, but she didn't want to push and lose her favor. "All right, but I'm going to ask you that question again later, and I'll want the truth." Vicky sputtered, but Sara laughed. "I'm not asking now, and you can rest assured I'm making some progress on the case." "OK," Vicky said. "Look, I'd better go - I've got a corpse waiting who isn't getting any fresher. Come by my place tonight? I've got something for you." Sara pressed her, but Vicky wouldn't reveal what. In the end, Sara just had to agree. She hung up only a little more confused than she started out, but she felt better, at least. Now, only if Tommy would show up and answer her questions, she'd feel even better. Where was he anyway? ***** Jake poked his head into Vicky's lab. "Hey, you got a minute?" he asked. Vicky reached up to turn off the tape recorder over her head before she answered. "Yeah, sure. Give me five minutes to finish up here." Jake wandered down the hall to her office and stared blankly at the ceiling until she came in, smelling strongly of the antiseptic soap the coroner's office used. That was OK, though - he was more than happy she'd washed up after rooting around in a dead body. "What's up, Jake?" Vicky asked, sitting down behind her desk. "You talked to Sara lately?" "This morning, yeah." She frowned. "Why?" Jake leaned forward and put his elbows on her desk, and Vicky pulled her coffee cup away from him. "I'm worried about her. Has she talked to you about ... any problems she might be having?" Vicky's expression immediately became guarded and she took a slow "I'm-stalling" sip from her cup. "Problems? What kind of problems?" Her tone was too innocent, so Jake knew that Vicky knew something. He'd always known that his partner was a little odd, but he'd never thought she was crazy ... until now. "You know, mental problems," he prompted. "Her seeing things, hearing things. Or people. Dead people." "This about Tommy Burgess?" Vicky asked, her face breaking into a grin. "Uh, yeah." Jake frowned. "Why's that funny?" "Oh, it's nothing to be worried about." Vicky reached out and patted his hand. "It's just Sara's way of dealing with death. Trust me on this - I've known her for years. Did she tell you she saw him?" "No. I kind of overheard her," Jake admitted. "So you didn't ask her about this?" Vicky's voice had taken on a disapproving tone that Jake didn't like. "Instead, you snuck around behind her back and asked me." It didn't sound very nice when Vicky put it that way. "I wouldn't call it sneaking around ..." "Oh, well then." Vicky picked up the phone and put it to her ear. "You won't mind if I call her and tell her what you just asked me then." She reached out to dial and Jake slapped the phone off. "OK, OK." Vicky hung up the phone and crossed her arms at Jake. "OK, I was wrong. I should have just asked her about it." He tried for a cute boy smile. "But she's kind of pissed at me right now." "Why?" From the tone, the smile hadn't had any effect on her. "I asked her out." Vicky laughed. And laughed. After a full minute of laughter, Jake began to feel insulted. Once Vicky had wound down to the occasional chuckle and snort, Jake felt it was safe to ask. "What?" That set Vicky off again, but after a few seconds, she was able to talk again. "Nothing," she said, eyes wide with innocence. Jake threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Don't tell me!" He pushed himself off from her desk and stood. "Maybe you're all insane!" He stalked out the door to the sound of more laughter. Sometimes, it just wasn't worth it to be concerned about people. ***** Sara frowned. Why had Vicky taken one look at her and started laughing? "What?" she asked when her friend stopped to take a breath. After another loud peal, Vicky grinned and waved her inside her apartment. It was a little tidier than the last time she'd been here, but there was the usual empty bottle of vodka sticking out of the trash can. She'd really have to talk to Vicky about that soon. Sara worried about her sometimes. "So what's this about?" Sara asked as Vicky handed her a beer. "Why are you being all mysterious? And why are you laughing at me?" "I'm not being mysterious," Vicky said and sat down in her favorite overstuffed chair. "I'm just being cautious." "Cautious?" Sara perched on the arm of the couch. She knew from experience that it was more comfortable than the cushions. "What do you have to be cautious about? Are you in some kind of trouble?" "No. Maybe. I don't know." Vicky took a swig from her beer. "I had a visit from your partner today. He thinks you're crazy." "What? He's the one who's crazy." "He said he asked you out." Vicky grinned. "Going to take my advice and get some?" "No! He thinks I'm crazy because I wouldn't go out with him?" Sara sighed. "Men are so vain." "No, he thinks you're crazy because he thinks you're seeing dead people. Tommy Burgess, to be exact." Vicky raised her eyebrows. "I told him you weren't crazy, but mostly just to get him off your case. You're not, are you? Crazy?" Sara opened her mouth to give a vehement "no" when she snapped it shut again and shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't think so." "I don't think you are either," Vicky said decisively, and pulled a manila envelope out from underneath the seat cushion of her chair. "And this is why." She tossed the envelope to Sara, and with a frown, Sara opened it. When she pulled out the sheaf of papers inside and flipped through them, her eyes widened. "Where did you get these?" ***** Nottingham pulled his cell phone from his pocket as it rang. He recognized the number and his lips tightened in a grim smile. "How did it go?" he asked as he answered the call. "You were right," Bruno Dante's cracking voice said. "Seeing her in person made all the difference to him." "I thought it would. Woo is deeply involved with family - it would take a lot for him to turn his back on that." "The Bulls won't make him turn his back on his family," Dante said, a tinge of anger in his voice. "We make families stronger." "I'm not just talking about his wife and children. He considers Sara Pezzini his family, too." Nottingham smiled. "You aren't going to suggest that joining your club won't turn him against her, are you?" Dante didn't seem to have an answer to that. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that your numbers are back up to where you need them, and you understand that I have my eye on you." Nottingham hung up. Dante didn't like having a younger man having this much control over him, but he was going to have to live with it. Nottingham watched the window of the building across from him as Sara paged through the pile of papers he had encouraged Vicky to share with her. His plan was in motion. Now all he had to do was wait. ***** "There's been some weird stuff lately," Vicky said, taking a hefty swig of her beer. "Weirdest of which was getting a visit from your pirate." "Pirate?" Sara searched her brain until the Witchblade gave her a quick reminder. "Nottingham? He came to see you?" "He told me not to tell you, but..." She shrugged. "Screw him." She grinned. "Which, by the way, isn't too bad of a thought." Sara refused to be sidetracked. "He gave these to you?" Sara held up the sheaf of ballistics reports in her hand. "Why?" "He gave me the one about Tommy Burgess," Vicky corrected her quickly. "I've been collecting the others for quite a while now. As for why..." Vicky's voice drifted off and she looked away from Sara. "He said you wouldn't believe it from him." "He was probably right," Sara admitted. Sara flipped through the ballistics reports, including one she hadn't even seen yet on the Bacil case. All of the bullets, in every single one, had been linked to a single gun, though who's that was wasn't identified. "You remember John Stine? Used to work in ballistics?" Vicky asked. "Yeah," Sara said, still flipping through the reports. "You and he had a thing before he-" She stopped talking as she came to a ballistics report on Stine's death. Same gun. "He's the one who started the file," Vicky said, her voice a little rough. "One day, he gave me that envelope and told me not to open it unless he died." Sara looked up to see Vicky's lips pressed tightly together and her eyes glistening. "And he died and you did," Sara finished gently. Vicky nodded, then cleared her throat. "And I kept collecting them, quietly, of course." She laughed humorlessly. "Because, I mean, who's going to suspect the drunk coroner, right? But someone has been killing people for a long time and no one's been doing anything about it. And your friend Nottingham said you were the one to stop it." "Well, for once, he's right," Sara said. "And Sara..." Vicky hesitated. "The first report in the file is your dad's." Sara closed her eyes tightly. ***** Danny had mixed feelings when Sara showed up to spar with him in the precinct's gym before work. She usually did, but he found he'd kind of been hoping that she'd sleep in for once. It wasn't that he was mad at her, really, but her father. But since he wasn't here to hate, Sara was taking the brunt of his anger. "Jesus, Woo!" Sara picked herself up off the mat, rubbing the spot under her headgear where his foot had connected with her chin. "No kicking, remember? What the hell's wrong with you? Lee make you sleep on the couch?" "My family life is fine, thanks." Danny cracked his neck and held his fists up. "Come on, Pez, let's see what you can do." Sara showed him. At first, he was easily able to dodge or parry most of her blows, but after he got a few nasty ones in, she quit playing nice. It was a blow to the temple that finally knocked him down, a roundhouse with the red stone on her ever-present bracelet filling his vision for a brief second before he collapsed to the floor. He was panting when he pushed himself up to a sitting position, unaware that he had even been so exhausted. Sara was still bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to fight some more. He waved his hand at her. "You win. I'm done." After a second, she shook her head and stalked off to the locker room, only turning once to shake her head again. "She sure kicked your ass." Danny turned around slowly to find Jake grinning behind him. He held out a hand and Danny gratefully accepted the help up. "I pissed her off," Danny admitted. "I cheated." "Better you than me." Jake grinned. "Maybe she'll forget she's mad at me then." "I doubt that." Danny grabbed his towel and wiped his face off. "What's up?" "Oh, yeah." The rookie dug in his pocket for a second, then held out his hand. "The captain wanted me to give this to you. And to say welcome to the club." On Jake's hand lay a gold bullet, the casing stamped with the silhouette of a black bull. Without hesitation, Danny took it. ***** The Witchblade provided her with a close-up of the bullet, but Sara didn't need it. Danny. Jake. Her partners. The very people she should trust with her life. Involved in whatever this "white bulls" crap was. Great. "Sara." Sara whirled around, Witchblade held in front of her like a shield, only to find Tommy standing there. She dropped her hand and slumped onto a bench. "Did you know?" She glared at the ghost. "About Jake and Danny?" Tommy shook his head. "Why? How? I mean, I know Danny. He's one of the most honest..." She trailed off. "Tell me." "I didn't know," Tommy said, but Sara wasn't sure she believed him. "But you have to be careful." "Well, duh." She stood up and began stripping off her clothes. "I'm not stupid, you know." She looked up from peeling off her shorts only to find herself alone again. "Fine, don't even stay for the show," she said, pulling off her sports bra and heading for the shower. ***** With Sara and Danny snapping at each other and slamming doors and books and anything else they could get their hands on, Jake felt like a little kid trying to keep the peace between warring parents. But at least it looked like Sara had forgotten to be mad at him. "Would you move your ass, Jake?" Sara snapped. Jake pushed himself and his chair back into a corner. Or at least she was less mad at him than Danny. Sara yanked open a file drawer and flipped through, muttering under her breath. Danny focused on a pile of photos on his desk, but it was obvious he wasn't seeing them. His hands were clenched into fists and his jaw was tight. Jake decided that it was in his best interest not to stand in between those two for a while. Sara pulled a file from the drawer, then slammed it shut. After she stalked over to her desk and sat down, she fixed her eyes on Jake. He felt his shoulders involuntarily begin to scrunch up. She opened her mouth to speak, then flicked her eyes past him to the door. He hadn't thought it possible, but her look got even darker. "You," she said, making it sound like a swear word. Jake turned to look. He'd seen the guy around a few times, he'd been peripherally involved in one of their past cases - he had thought Sara was dating him, but from the look on her face, it seemed the romance was off. "Me," the man replied, his voice warm in the face of Sara's anger. Suddenly, the man's eyes narrowed, and he scanned the room. Sara's shoulders stiffened, and she sat stock-still for a moment, then she stood up. "It's getting way too crowded in here," she snapped. Grabbing her jacket and helmet from the top of a cabinet, she pushed past the guy in the door. He turned to look after her, then back at Jake. Jake shrugged. "Good luck, man," he said. "Careful she doesn't take your nuts off." Nodding, the man turned and followed Sara. Jake looked at Danny. His eyes were still on the photos. Jake didn't think he'd even noticed Sara's little drama. "You all right?" Jake asked. Danny looked up after a second. "Yeah. Just thinking." He reached over to Sara's desk and snagged the file Sara had dropped there. "Hey, how come she's looking into Stine's case? That was ruled a suicide." Jake tried not to let his face betray him. He knew that case wasn't a suicide. It had been that death that had brought him to New York. "Who knows what kind of crazy stuff she's up to," he said, forcing a laugh. "Hey, you want to take a break? Get some lunch?" Danny dropped the file back onto Sara's desk and grinned at Jake. "Sure. We can bitch about our crazy partner." ***** Nottingham leaned against the wall as Sara struggled to put on her jacket and hold onto her helmet at the same time. Finally, she held her helmet out to him. "Hold that," she demanded. He took it, and she shrugged into her jacket. When she reached for her helmet, he held it out of her reach. "Have lunch with me," he suggested. "We need to talk." "Talk." She barked out a laugh. "Everybody wants to talk, but nobody wants to tell me what they know. Give me my helmet." "I made sure you got what you needed." "You sent me running around when you could have just saved me the time and told me." She snatched at the helmet, but Nottingham kept it just out of her reach. "So, either tell me everything you know or leave me the hell alone. And give me back my damned helmet!" The fierce light in her eyes told Nottingham he'd pushed her enough. He handed her the helmet. Shoving it on her head, she swung her leg over her motorcycle. She glared at him, then shifted her gaze to his right. "And that goes for you, too," she said, then revved up her bike and screeched off. Nottingham turned to see who Sara had spoken to, but he was already sure there was no one there. Was the pressure too much for the Wielder? Would she break, like some of the unworthy ones had in the past? No. She was a true Wielder. And he had felt it again, that sense of someone else there, in the office. And Sara acted as if someone else - someone else who she considered difficult - was there, too. So maybe there was. He only needed to get closer to Sara to find out who or what it was. ***** Sara wasn't sure where she was heading when she started out, but she ended up at the 92nd Precinct. Orlinsky's precinct. Walking up the steps to the big green doors, she still wasn't sure what she was there for, but she figured she'd find out when she got inside. She was going to go with her instincts, since thinking about things sure hadn't seemed to help any. Inside, the 92nd was pretty much the same hectic mess as the 11th, just laid out differently. Sara waved to the desk sergeant - she couldn't remember the woman's name, but she'd met her a few times - and headed up the stairs to Special Investigations. No one was in the big room, but Sara wasn't about to go look for someone. Taking advantage of the quiet, she walked through the room, checking nameplates on the desks, looking for Orlinsky's. She found it, but not on a desk - it was in a box with family photos, a few books, and other miscellaneous crap that accumulates in a desk over the years. Somehow, she didn't think the box meant he was retiring. She would bet that his transfer to the 11th just came through. Sara frowned and lifted up the corner of a biography of Jennifer Lopez that was in the box - and she didn't even want to know why Orlinsky had that. She was about to drop the book when a dull gleam caught her eye. Pushing the book out of the way, she found a gun at the bottom of the box, half wrapped in a red handkerchief. The Witchblade tingled and made her vision swim... "I don't care if you have to peddle your own ass, you owe me, you stupid junkie." The other man took a step closer and pulled out a pistol. "You got that?" "Someone has been killing people for a long time and no one's been doing anything about it." Sara found the gun in her hand when she came back from wherever it was the Witchblade took her. She stared at it. "He couldn't be that dumb," she whispered. "Want to bet?" Tommy's now-familiar voice came from behind her. She turned to look at him, but immediately turned back toward the stairs, where the tromping of feet and raucous laughter echoed in the stairwell. She stuffed the gun in her pocket and scanned the room quickly, looking for an exit. "That way," Burgess pointed to her left. "You better be telling the truth," she said, and ran in the direction he pointed. "I always do," she heard him say as she ran down the hall, "to you." ***** Danny snatched the yellow sticky note off his computer monitor that had been there when he and Jake had come back from lunch. There was a place and a time on it, but nothing else. Danny held it up to Jake and was greeted by a big grin. "Must be the big introduction meeting, man." Jake nodded. "Got to introduce you to the rest of the guys. Let you know who's who." "Yeah, sounds good." Danny was actually a little surprised that it did sound good. But it did. He wanted to be a part of something that was making the world better, and while being a police officer was a good start, all the arbitrary rules and paperwork didn't let him do as much good as he could. The White Bulls cut through that paperwork and got the job done. He liked that. "Looks like you didn't take care of our problem, Jake," Captain Dante's voice came from the door. Danny turned to see the captain step into the room and close the door behind him. "Heard from your partner lately?" he asked them both. "She stormed out of here a while ago," Danny said. "She was pissed." "As usual," Jake added. "Well, I just got a phone call. Seems she's graduated to theft, not just invasion of personnel records." The captain's tone was even, but Danny could tell that he was just seconds away from yelling. "You will find her and do what it takes to get back our property." "What are we looking for?" Jake asked. "You'll know," the captain snapped. "Now go!" Danny and Jake bolted for the door. ***** Sara met Vicky in a little park close to the coroner's office. Vicky had called her paranoid until she saw the gun in the paper bag Sara had found. "Where did you get this?" Vicky hissed, quickly closing up the bag. Sara shook her head. "The less you know the better. Can you get it tested for me? Dusted for prints, too, maybe?" Vicky looked apprehensive. "I don't know. I've kind of stayed away from ballistics since ..." She took a deep breath. "I'll figure something out." "Don't mention my name." By the look on Vicky's face, that was advice she didn't need. Vicky turned to leave, then turned back. "Do I want to know anything more about what's going on?" she asked. "Someone I should call if ... if things go wrong?" Sara shrugged. "I don't know who to trust anymore." She smiled. "Except you." She frowned. "And maybe one other person. But you can't call him." "Ian Nottingham?" Vicky grinned. "He gave me his number. Told me to call him if I needed anything." Sara felt her jaw drop. "Well, why don't you call him? But not for me." Sara echoed the coroner's grin. "Maybe you should take some of your own cure that you recommended to me." "I just might." Vicky's face grew serious. "Be careful. I'll call you as soon as I find anything." Sara nodded and turned to go when Vicky called out from behind her. "Wait! I forgot." Sara turned to find Vicky holding out a piece of paper. "I got my cousin Melinda's phone number for you. I had to call my aunt and endure fifteen minutes of 'why aren't you married?' but I got it." Sara took the paper. A number was written on it - California, from the area code. "She can't call you because of government budget cuts." Vicky rolled her eyes. "If she can help, call her." With that, Vicky turned and headed back to the coroner's office, clutching the paper bag with the gun in it to her chest. Sara looked down at the phone number, then shrugged. She had free long distance with her cell phone. What the heck. She pulled out her phone and dialed. "Melinda Jones," a voice said after a few rings. "Uh, hi, this is Sara Pezzini. Your cousin Vicky gave me your number." "Oh, yeah. Hi, Sara. Vicky said you would be calling." Melinda's voice had gone from professional to friendly. "You're a police detective, right?" "Yeah. And I hate to do this, but I need a favor." "Well, I can't promise anything, but I can try," she said. "What can I do for you?" "This is going to sound strange, but do you know anything about any investigations into the New York Police Department? Something about white bulls?" "Um. I don't know if that's familiar," Melinda said doubtfully. "I can have a look, but ..." Sara frowned as the Witchblade began to pulse... A black haired woman on a phone gesturing frantically at a blonde man in a suit. A piece of paper with the scrawled words "NY cop - white bulls ?s cover blown?!" being shoved across a desk. The woman's mouth opening to say... "I'm not sure I could tell you if an investigation was going on, even if there was, but I can look. Can I get your number?" It took Sara a second to realize what Melinda had asked, but Sara gave the agent her number. After a few more seconds, they said their goodbyes and hung up. Sara shoved her phone back in her pocket, trying to understand what had just happened. There was someone from the FBI in the department. Someone that Vicky's cousin knew. Someone from California. Jake. ***** Sara wasn't answering her cell phone, which made it a little hard to find her, Jake had to admit. Not that that was going to be a good enough excuse for Captain Dante. So Jake and Danny were driving around checking all the places they knew Sara went when she was pissed off, bored, or just wanted to hang out. Danny was the one who knew most of them, but it was Jake who made the lucky guess. "Let's try that kid from the Bacil case," he suggested. "Sara might be checking up on him." "You've got to be kidding," Danny said, taking his eyes off the road for a second to raise his eyebrows. "You got a better idea? I don't want to go back to the precinct to face the captain if we don't find her." Danny must have agreed, because though he didn't say anything, in a few minutes they ended up parked in the alley where the drug dealer had been shot. Right behind Sara's motorcycle. ***** Nottingham closed his cell phone. He hadn't needed the call from Vicky to know that Sara was in trouble, but it was nice to know that her friend was concerned enough to call when they both knew Sara didn't desire his help. He had assured Vicky that he would keep an eye out for Sara. He had been less affirmative about her offer of dinner. Now, he wasn't just keeping an eye out for Sara, he was keeping an eye on her. She hadn't noticed him following her in the Jaguar - very sloppy on her part. Either she didn't truly understand the danger she was in, or she refused to believe it. Neither was acceptable. His perch on the roof of a neighboring building afforded him a clear view through a window of the apartment Sara had entered, but still, not much of the interior was visible. It was, by far, an imperfect surveillance location, but he wanted Sara to have the illusion of freedom. He spotted the gleam of the Witchblade as Sara walked past the window. Freedom, for both of them, though, was always an illusion. ***** Jake had argued against calling the captain, but Danny had thought they should, just to let him know they were making progress. Dante's reaction proved to Danny that he was right, no matter what Jake said. "You sit tight for now. I don't want to scare a kid. There's no excuse for that sort of thing." The captain sighed. "What's she doing there, anyway?" Danny shrugged, even though the captain couldn't see him. "Rico saw the shooter, but couldn't give a good description. Maybe she's trying him again." There was a long moment of silence before the captain spoke again. "Look, I don't want her - or Rico - spooked. And she will be if she sees you two. So move down the street, out of that alley. You can catch up with her when she leaves. Understood?" "No problem. We'll keep you up-to-date." Danny hung up and started the car. "Where are we going?" Jake asked. "Giving Her Highness some space so we don't scare her. The captain said to sit tight until she leaves." Danny smiled. "Then we're back on her tail." Danny backed out of the alley and pulled into another one a few blocks down. Jake held up his cell phone and nodded at it. "You mind if I make a call? I've got to break a date for tonight." the rookie said. "Go on. I'll keep an eye on things." Jake jumped out and slammed the door. Danny settled in to wait Sara out. ***** Sara sat down and re-read what Rico had written on the pad of paper he had gotten from his bedroom. It was a description of exactly what he had seen the night Jack Bacil had been murdered, as well as a description of seeing Orlinsky at the precinct and identifying him as the shooter. For a kid, it was remarkably well-written - better than a lot of adults' she'd read, actually. This wasn't something she needed right away, but she didn't know how much time she would have once the gun was discovered missing. There was no reason to think Orlinksy knew she was the one who took it, but the desk sergeant had seen her and if Orlinksky and Dante managed to put two and two together, then it wouldn't take too long for them to be after her. She folded the paper and put it in the pocket of her jeans, then smiled at Rico. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "You've done the right thing and I'm proud of you." "So you won't tell my dad that I skipped school?" Rico grinned as Sara shook her head. "I didn't believe you anyway." Sara rolled her eyes. "You're just too smart for me, kid." She shook her finger at him. "But if I find out you skip any more, I will be after you, OK?" Rico nodded, then his eyes lit up. "Hey! I wanted to show you my new baseball glove!" He ran off toward his bedroom and Sara sat back on the couch. Finally, things were coming together. She just had to hold on, and she would break this conspiracy. Rico came bolting back down the hallway when there was a knock at the door. The boy swerved toward it, dropping his glove on a chair by the door. As he reached to open it, the Witchblade burned on Sara's wrist... A gun aimed at Rico's head, the finger tightening on the trigger... "Rico, no!" ***** Nottingham was halfway down the stairs of the building before he even realized he was moving. He slowed slightly so he didn't tumble headlong down the six stories, but he was still outside the building Sara was in when the first shot was fired. ***** Jake leaned against the wall at the end of the alley waiting for the call back. He'd gotten the coded text message on his phone that meant "emergency" and had called in like he was supposed to. Now he had to just wait until his FBI boss called him back. He was kicking his heel into the wall when the first shot was fired. ***** Danny dialed through the radio stations, trying to find something decent to listen to. In a city this big, there had to be a good radio station somewhere, but if there was, he hadn't found it yet. He had finally settled on some talk radio show when the first shot was fired. ***** She was flat on her back, but despite the stinging pain in her side, she had managed to push Rico out of the way. "Run!" He didn't need to be told twice, and bolted down the hallway toward his bedroom. Sara looked back to the door in time to see Orlinsky aim his gun at the boy's running back. She kicked out wildly and somehow managed to connect with Orlinsky's knee, tumbling him onto her with a grunt. The gun went off again, and pain flared in her right shoulder. He pushed off of her slightly, just enough to get his forearm across her throat. She tried to bring up the Witchblade, but her right arm couldn't seem to move. He pressed his arm hard against her neck and little sparkles appeared at the edges of her vision. "Just relax, Sara," Tommy's familiar voice came from beside her. Sara flicked her eyes to the side to find her ghost crouching next to her. He reached out to stroke her hair, and Sara felt the gentle brush of his fingertips on her forehead. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but she couldn't get the air to speak with. The question in her eyes must have been enough, though. "You're dying," he said simply. "You're almost here now." He pulled his hand away, and one corner of his mouth turned up slightly. He stood up and took a step back. "You could be free." The small smile disappeared. "But it's your choice." Sara turned her eyes back to Orlinsky, who had now raised his gun to point at her face. "Not so tough now, are you, bitch?" he snarled. "And he thought you'd be so hard to deal with." Sara closed her eyes. ***** Nottingham reached for the man's collar and ripped him off Sara. Blood sprayed from the man as the Witchblade, it's edge serrated, ripped from the flesh of his leg. The Blade retracted and Sara's arm fell heavily to the floor. Nottingham threw the man into the hall behind him, then hesitated, torn between his desire to kill the man and his fear for Sara. The expanding pool of blood and Sara's lack of movement decided him. Nottingham turned his back and knelt at Sara's side, searching for a pulse. Eventually, he found one, but it was weak and faltering. Despite that, Sara's eyes opened, but she didn't look at him. Her eyes focused above him. "Sorry," she whispered. "No freedom." Her eyes closed again and Nottingham turned to see who she had been talking to. He thought he saw a person silhouetted against the window, but when he tried to focus on it, it was gone. "What the hell-" Nottingham turned to find Sara's partners, out of breath, standing in the doorway. The man Nottingham had thrown there was gone, though a pool of blood marked the spot where he had landed. Jake McCartey's mouth hung open for a moment, then he reached for his phone and dialed. "Officer down. We have an officer down at 3422 Parklane St. Roll it!" he yelled. Jake dropped next to Nottingham and tore off his jacket and pressed it against Sara's side. Nottingham reached out to stop him, then realized what the other man was doing. He pulled his own sweater over his head and searched her shoulder until he found the ragged wound there. He pressed the sweater against it, hard, putting enough pressure on it to at least slow the bleeding until the ambulance got there. "Danny, give us a hand here," Jake snapped. Nottingham took his eyes from Sara's face for a moment to see Woo stand back up, two shell casings in his hand. He stuffed them in his pocket, then nodded at the two men. "You have it covered. I'm going to see if I can find the guy who shot her." He slowly walked down the hallway and disappeared from sight. Nottingham turned his eyes back to Sara. Her left hand was moving - barely - but trying to manipulate something in her pocket. He reached across her and pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. He opened it and scanned the page. "Jake," she rasped, not opening her eyes. He hesitated for just a moment, but handed the paper to her partner. Jake's eyes widened as he read, and he stuffed the paper quickly into his own pocket. The corners of her mouth turned up, then she went completely limp. But Nottingham wasn't worried - he had a feeling she was going to be just fine. ***** Epilogue: Neither of her partners had come to visit her in the hospital, though she'd gotten a cryptic message from Jake by way of Vicky. As far as Sara could tell, Vicky had given Orlinksy's gun to Jake and knew that he was FBI, too, though they didn't talk much about it. She hadn't wanted to talk about much of anything having to do with work. She didn't want to think about what she wanted to do to Orlinsky for trying to shoot Rico - let alone her. Rico, at least, was OK. A little shaken, Vicky had reported, but OK. She'd also reported that she'd been trying to convince Nottingham - Ian, she called him - to have dinner with her, but she hadn't had much luck yet. Sara wasn't sure what she thought of that, but she wished Vicky luck. Nottingham visited her all five days she was in the hospital, and she had thought that she would be annoyed to see him, but it was actually nice to have him around. He didn't make any demands on her, and he was even perfectly content to sit and watch game shows and soap operas with her all day. Plus, he smuggled ice cream in past the nurses, so that was OK, too. He had just dropped her off at home, making sure her fridge was stocked, then just leaving her alone to get used to taking care of herself again. And it was hard. Her right arm was in a sling, and her abdomen was taped so tightly she couldn't bend or turn. At least her neck didn't hurt anymore, but a glance in the mirror showed that the bruise had evolved into a lovely yellow, purple, and green combination. She was pretty sure that when she was a teenager, she'd had a paisley shirt that would have matched perfectly. After she checked to make sure everything was where she had left it, she collapsed on the couch - or rather, she tried to collapse, but had to carefully ease her way down to make sure she didn't jostle anything. The Witchblade tingled on her wrist, and she smiled. "I'm not done yet," she said. "I couldn't go." Tommy stepped around the corner of the couch and stood with his hands in his pockets. "I know," he said, not quite looking at her. "This is just the beginning. Now that I know Jake is FBI, we can work this together. And with Vicky helping out, too, we've got a chance to really dig this corruption out." Tommy just nodded, still not meeting her eyes. She waited for a response from him, but he didn't speak. "Will you ... will you be here, too?" she asked. "I'm going to need your help. Want your help." He finally met her eyes. She would never have thought that a ghost - or whatever he was - could have tears in his eyes. "Really?" His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. Sara didn't trust her voice, so she just nodded. "Then I'll be around." Sara nodded again, then cleared her throat. "Good." She grinned. "But not now. I need a nap." She shifted around on the couch until her head was on the arm of the couch. She closed her eyes for a second, and when she opened them again, Tommy was gone. But not forever, and probably not for long. She had a lot of work to do, and she was going to need help. She closed her eyes again. But for now, sleep.
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