WMC - First to Die

Chapter 86

I RODE UP TO JENKS'S HOUSE with Chris Raleigh. We barely spoke, both of us brimming with anticipation. Outside, we were met by Charlie Clapper and his CSU team. They would grid-search the house and grounds as soon as we tookjenksin. We rang the bell. Each second I waited, my heart pounded harder. Every reason I became a cop was grinding in my chest. This was it. The door opened, and the same housekeeper answered. This time, her eyes went wide as she took in the convergence of blue-and-whites outside. I flashed my badge. "We need to see Mr. Jenks." We made our way back toward the sitting room where we had met Jenks only the day before. A startled Chessy Jenks met us in the hall "Inspector," she gasped, recognizing me. "What's going on? What are all those police cars doing out front?" "I'm sorry," I said, meeting her eyes. I was sorry for her. "Is your husband at home?" "Nick!" she cried, realizing in a panic why we had come. Then she ran along with us, trying to block me, shouting, "You can't just come in here like this. This is our home." "Please, Mrs. Jenks," Raleigh implored. I was too wound up to stop. I wanted Nicholas Jenks so bad it hurt. A second later he appeared, coming in from the back lawn overlooking the Pacific. He was holding a golf club. "I thought I told you," he said, looking perfectly unruffled in his white shirt and linen shorts, "the next time you need something from me you should contact my lawyer." "You can tell him yourself," I said. My heart was racing. "Nicholas Jenks, you are under arrest for the murders of David and Melanie Brandt, Michael and Rebecca De George James and Kathleen Voskuhl." I wanted him to hear every name, to bring to mind every one of them he'd killed. I wanted to see the callous indifference crack in his eyes. "This is insane." Jenks glared at me. His gray eyes burned with intensity. "Nick?" cried his wife. "What are they talking about? Why are they here in our house?" "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, the veins bulging on his neck. "I asked you, do you have any idea what you're doing?" I didn't answer, just recited the Miranda warning. "What you're doing," he raged, "is engaging in the biggest mistake of your little life." "What are they saying?" His wife was pale. "Nick, please tell me. What is going on?" "Shut up," Jenks spat out at her. Suddenly, he spun back toward me with a vicious fire in his eyes. He lunged forward with his fist. He swung at me. I cut his feet out from under him. Jenks fell across an end table to the floor, photos falling everywhere, glass shattering. The writer moaned loudly in pain. Chessy Jenks screamed, stood there in a paralyzed state. Chris Raleigh cuffed her husband and dragged him to his feet. "Call Sherman," Jenks shouted at his wife. "Tell him where I am, what's happened." Raleigh and I pushed Jenks out to our car. He continued to struggle, and I saw no reason to be gentle. ' "What's your theory on the murders now?" I asked him.

Chapter87

AFTER THE LAST NEWS CONFERENCE had ended, after the last flashbulb had dimmed, after I had rehashed for what seemed the hundredth time how we had narrowed in on Jenks, after a beaming Chief Mercer had been chauffeured away, I hugged Claire, Cindy, and Jill. I then passed on a celebratory beer and wandered back to the Hall of Justice. It was well past eight, and only the prattle of the night shift interrupted my being alone. I sat at my desk, in the well-earned silence of the squad room, and tried to remember the last time I felt this good. Tomorrow we would begin meticulously compiling the case against Nicholas Jenks: interrogating him, accumulating more evidence, filling out report after report. But we had done it. We had caught him just as I had hoped we eventually would. I had fulfilled the promise I made to Melanie Brandt that horrible night in the Mandarin Suite at the Grand Hyatt. I felt proud of myself. Whatever happened with Negli's, even if I never made lieutenant, no one could take this away. I got up, stepped over to the freestanding blackboard that listed the cases we were working on. Under "Open Cases," somewhere near the top, was her name: Melanie Brandt. I took the eraser and rubbed her name, then her husband's, until they disappeared, until the blue smear of chalk was no more. "I bet you that feels good," Raleigh's voice sounded behind me. I turned. He was there, looking smug. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "So late." "Thought I'd straighten up Roth's desk, steal a few brownie points," he said. "What do you think, Lindsay? I came to find you." We were in a corner of the squad room, and there was no one around. He never had to move. I went to him. Nothing in the way. No reason to deny this. I kissed him. Not like before. Not just to let Chris know I was interested. I kissed him the way I had wanted him to kiss me that night in Cleveland. I wanted to steal the breath right out of him. I wanted to say, I wanted to do this from the first time I saw you. When we finally pulled apart, he repeated with a smile, "Like I said, I bet that feels good." It did feel good. Right now, it all felt good. It also felt unavoidable. "What're your plans?" I smiled at him. "How loosely are we talking?" "Specifically, right now. Tonight. The next several hours, at least." "I thought I would come back, straighten Cheery's desk, and see if you wanted me to take you home." "Let me get my purse."

Chapter

I DON'T KNOW HOW we got all the way to my apartment in the Potrero. I don't know how Chris and I talked and drove and ignored what was tearing at us inside. Once we got through my door, there was no stopping it. I was all over Chris; he was all over me. We only got as far as the rug in the foyer, kissing, touching, fumbling for buttons and zippers, breathing loudly. I had forgotten how good it was to be held, to be desired by somebody I wanted, too. Once we touched, we knew enough to take our time. We both wanted it to last. Chris had what I needed more than anything else, soft hands. I loved kissing him, loved his touch, his gentleness, then his roughness, the simple fact that he was concerned about my pleasure as much as his own. You never know until you try it out- but I loved being with Chris. I absolutely loved it. I know it's a cliche, but that night I made love as if it might never happen again. I felt Chris's current, warming me, electrifying- from my womb to my thighs to the tips of my fingers and my toes. His grasp was all that held me together, kept me from breaking apart. I felt a trust for him that was unquestioning. I held nothing back. I gave myself to Chris in a way I never had to anyone before. Not only with my body and my heart; these were things I could pull back. I gave him my hope that I could still live. When I cried out, tremors exploding inside me, my fingers and toes stiff with joy, a voice inside me whispered what I knew was true. I gave him everything. He gave it back. Finally, Chris pulled off me. We were both tingling, still on fire. "What?" I gasped for breath. "Now what?" He looked at me and smiled. "I want to see the bedroom."