Life and Breath Part 16
Title: Life and Breath
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Part: 16
Date: 25 July, 2009
Rating: Personally, I'd call it an R, but some might consider it NC-17 at some point.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations belong to other folks far wealthier, more important (or at least with better lawyers), and hopefully more charitable and kinder than I. They include, but are not necessarily limited to CBS, Proctor and Gamble, and Telenext. The actual arrangement of words, however, remains my own as do any original characters. Meanwhile, there is likely to be all female romantic and sexual activity ahead, so if this is likely to get you, me, or anybody else arrested should you take a gander, please move along. Also, if you find that sort of thing offensive, you really probably shouldn't hang around anyplace I'm posting. Just sayin'....
Archiving: The Pink Rabbit Consortium
Spoilers: Some early scenes definitely, plus anything through the spa trip is fair game.
Timeline: Unlike some folks, I don't have an exact scene where this one takes off. However, it's definitely set after the spa trip, but before Rafe's release from the halfway house. Oh, and it's after Natalia admits she's in love with Olivia to Father Ray.
Earlier Parts: | Part 1 (Prologue) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 |
Life and Breath
by Pink Rabbit Productions
Part 16
Well, at least Emma was having fun, Olivia mused as she nursed a cup of what was termed ice cream at Chuckles, but which she strongly suspected contained several different petroleum products, not to mention seaweed, plastic sprinkles, and artificial flavorings. Yup, it had that made of genuine artificial ingredients tang to it. Stirring the off-white mixture with its brightly colored sprinkles scattered across the top, she noted that it wasn't noticeably changing texture as it warmed-the term melting didn't seem to apply.
"Is that as bad as it looks?" Natalia questioned as she retook her seat next to Olivia after throwing the detritus of their meal away.
"It's definitely not good," the older woman admitted, then carefully set the plastic cup aside, noting as she did so that it was marked as being 100% bioplastic, made from corn. Which meant the cup probably had more edible ingredients than its contents. Ah, yes, food at Chuckles Burger Emporium and Entertainment Sanctorium. Good times. She glanced up, suspiciously eyeing the fuzzy, stuffed animatronics overhead. At least they were blessedly silent for the moment. Their last chorus of Turkey in the Straw some minutes before had left her on the verge of animatronicide, occurring as it had, during a particularly pleasant moment with Natalia. And not for the first time since their arrival. The damn things appeared to be programmed to interfere with even the tiniest hint of adult activity.
"Emma's having a blast though," Natalia noted with a smile as she nodded toward the human Habitrail visible from their table where Emma and a half a dozen other kids were whooping it up.
A tender smile curving her lips, Olivia nodded, glad to see that her daughter's earlier doldrums seemed to have faded. Yeah, there were undoubtedly more issues to be worked out, but Emma was back to something approaching normal. "Yeah, she is." Her smile broadened a notch as she felt Natalia's head against her shoulder and an arm linked with her own. Suddenly Chuckles didn't seem like such a bad place at all. Tipping her head sideways, she felt the brush of cool hair against her cheek as she leaned closer. "And I'm not doing too bad either." She felt the soft vibration of Natalia's answering laugh.
Then Natalia twined her hand around Olivia's to tug her a little closer and things got just a little better.
Or maybe a lot.
And right on cue, the sound of cogs and pneumatics powering up echoed only seconds before the giraffe's head on the wall above them began warbling The Lion Sleeps Tonight, while the zebra and rhinoceros on either side sang the chorus. And the lovely timing just continued. Olivia couldn't help but wonder if maybe Frank had been involved in programming the damn things.
"And yet another song," Natalia sighed as she began seriously rethinking her stance on hunting, so long as the animals in question sang. All singing animals must die was fast becoming her motto.
Tipping her head back, Olivia eyed the overly cheery, overly movemented, and overly noisy stuffed toys with a wry smirk. "I thought that's what every girl dreams of," she drawled, "a romantic serenade by..." she paused and peered around the harsh interior, "...er...fluorescent light."
"Ah, is that what you think?" Natalia questioned doubtfully. "Because I have to be honest, I gotta question the romantic value of the fuzzy, singing critters...a lot."
It was like some perverse challenge, and it sparked some strange need in Olivia to prove that even when surrounded by giant stuffed toys that sang, danced, and shed fake fur on any foodstuffs foolish enough to be in their vicinity, she could still bring it. "Really," she drawled, leaning down so her breath teased a delicate ear, "because, because, y'know I'm all about the fuzzy and the singing...and the serenading..."
Suddenly heat shivered over Natalia's skin like blacktop mirages on a sunny summer day. "I..." she exhaled, awareness threading through every nerve ending in her body. Then she turned her head and got caught in the trap of eyes that sparked and danced, commanding her attention and drawing her desire. If anyone had ever told her that she would one day find a love who could turn her to jelly in the middle of Chuckles, she would have recommended psychiatric treatment, yet there she was, terrified that Olivia would finally slip the bounds of propriety and kiss her right there, and equally terrified she wouldn't. "Olivia," she exhaled, the single word equal parts plea and warning.
"Yes?" the older woman questioned, drawing the word out and giving it a unique spin that set Natalia's insides tumbling.
Natalia's brain raced as she tried to find something clever to say, some witty remark that might impress the other woman. She almost had something. It was right on the tip of her tongue when Olivia leaned a little closer, her voice a husky contralto purr too low to be heard by anyone but the woman pressed against her side as she sang along with the chorus, "A weemaway, a weemaway..."
Natalia's breath caught and every thought she'd ever had went right out the window as she instinctively angled a little closer. How in God's name could lyrics that ridiculous send shivers down her spine? "You're evil, Olivia Spencer," she breathed, heart throbbing in her chest as Olivia grinned at her, her expression made of raw sensuality dipped in pure adoration.
"Mmhm, kinda known for that," Olivia drawled, her eyes as soft as her tone was knowing.
"Olivia," Natalia gasped as her body ramped up over no more than the look in the other woman's eyes. She thought the singing had finally stopped, though it was hard to be certain what with the ringing in her ears. "We're in the middle of Chuckles."
Olivia's grin broadened a notch. "Not really the middle, more of a side room," she noted with a quick look around to confirm that no one had come in behind them while she was watching Emma. As she turned back, her mouth twisted into a wicked smile and she leaned a little closer.
Natalia knew that look. "Don't. You. Dare," she warned the other woman even as she felt her pulse kick into overdrive and her palms start to sweat. For just a moment, she was certain that Olivia had no intention of stopping, then suddenly, she grinned and laughed, leaning back, her pose lazily seductive.
"Relax," Olivia chuckled and waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll be good," she reassured Natalia, wisely deciding to ignore just how tempted she'd been to push the envelope and taste soft lips, no matter how inappropriate the circumstances. "Angelic even." She did her best to look as innocent as a newborn lamb.
Natalia snorted softly, but concluded the other woman was back on her best behavior and so leaned back, then angled so her head was resting against a firm shoulder.
Olivia didn't say a word, just smiled. Her gaze swung to settle on the playing children. Emma was still having a ball running wild on the Habitrail with the other kids. This, she thought with supreme satisfaction, is how life is supposed to be.
A hint of a worried frown creased the younger woman's forehead as she watched the child who had come to mean so much to her laugh and play. She seemed all right now, but her earlier mood had been so offish that Natalia was on edge. "Do you think she's really okay with us now?"
Glancing over, Olivia tightened her hold on the arm wrapped around her own. Generally Emma was almost too emotionally stable, but she was still an eight year-old kid. "I think it may be up and down for awhile. She's got a lot to deal with...but I also know that she loves you and she'll work through any problems." She peered into dark eyes, her expression as reassuring as she knew how to make it. "It's going to be okay."
Pausing for a moment, Natalia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do I sound hopelessly paranoid?" she questioned after a beat.
"No," Olivia assured her as she offered a lopsided smile. "You sound like a worried parent."
And how was it, Natalia wondered as she felt her heart catch, that she could find the softly spoken reassurance nearly as arousing as the blatant seduction game they'd just played. She felt her breath catch as her heart contracted a little harder. "Olivia," she whispered, "I-"
The soft, electronic jangle of Olivia's cell phone interrupted mid-word. The older woman tried to ignore the sound, but she'd never been good at leaving a ringing phone alone, even when it appeared they were in collusion with singing fuzzy animals to interrupt key moments in her life. She peered at her purse as it continued to ring, her hand hovering just so, not quite reaching, but not backing off either. "I...ahm-"
"Get it," Natalia ordered through a grin. Getting between Olivia and her cell phone was just asking for trouble.
Olivia didn't waste a second. She checked the caller I.D."It's the Beacon," she said through a frown even as she clicked on.
Natalia noted that Olivia barely had time to introduce herself before she was caught up in whatever she was being told.
The joys of owning a hotel. Something was always going wrong. A frown creased elegant features as Olivia listened to the tale of the latest travail. Finally, she drew a deep breath, her tone thoughtful as she spoke, "Call Nick Cranston at Cranston Safety...his number's on file...tell him what the problem is...and assure him we'll pay whatever's necessary to get it fixed today. No, given that it's an emergency exit, it needs to be dealt with asap...and just chaining it down isn't acceptable. If there was a problem, wait staff could be trapped. Meanwhile, put somebody from security on it-I don't want any risk of people wandering in and out unsupervised-and check and see if there's anything missing. We'll need to file a police report and an insurance claim if there is." She paused for a long moment. "Actually, we may need to do that either way if Nick thinks it was broken intentionally."
Natalia settled a hand on Olivia's shoulder, massaging lightly as she felt a ripple of tension slide through the other woman.
"No...I'm out with Emma right now," Olivia explained, "but I'll be in to check on things in a little while. Thanks, Sam..." A few more comments and she hung up.
"What happened?" Natalia questioned instantly.
Olivia shrugged. "It's the basement fire exit...apparently a waiter fell, and hit the door on his way down. It pushed open. The lock was broken and the alarm disengaged."
"Intentionally?"
"Sam said there was no sign of damage...scratches or anything like that, but..." Olivia shrugged. "She thinks maybe it happened when we had the plumbers in last week. They were pretty ham handed... She said there's no indication that anything was disturbed or stolen. Security's supposed to check all doors nightly, but... That one's out of the way. It could be missed." She shrugged again. "I'm sure Nick'll assess the situation when he fixes it."
"Do you need to head over there?"
Olivia considered the question for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah, Sam should be able to handle it." She leaned back on the bench, pointing at Emma as she went flying up a ladder to dive through a tunnel and into a ball bounce room. "Besides, she's having too much fun. I don't have the heart to end it early." Tangling a hand with Natalia's, she tugged her close, smiling as she felt the weight of the other woman's head on her shoulder. "And I have to admit," she murmured as she turned her head until her breath ruffled dark hair, "I'm kinda enjoying myself too."
"Really?" Natalia drawled and tipped her head back to peer up at Olivia, a relaxed smile curving her lips.
Grinning, Olivia ducked her head. "Yeah," she confirmed, then held up her free hand, thumb and index finger almost touching. "Just a tiny bit." She leaned a little closer, grateful for their semi-private location. Not that she was going to push things too much, but then again.... "Hardly noticeable at all," she added on a bare breath.
Then the grinning walrus in the corner of the room gave a noisy warning creak before launching into an a capella version of Yellow Submarine, accompanied by the penguins floating on a neighboring platform of Styrofoam ice and several fish that popped their heads out of a sea of shredded blue Mylar.
Yup, Frank had definitely been in on programming the little bastards, Olivia thought as she felt Natalia shake with laughter, then she peered down into dancing brown eyes and forgot all about any music but the tune playing in her heart.
* * * * * *
Sunday in the Springfield P.D. squadroom gave all new meaning to the word dead. With no prisoners in the holding cells, any uniforms on patrol, and detectives strictly on call, it was an ideal place to go if you didn't want to attract attention.
Which Frank didn't.
Barron was there too, helping him work through the info he'd gathered, trying to find a way to merge two lives that on first glance seemed so disparate.
It was no simple trick, because, if Emily Sotero was a ghost who appeared and faded away on a whim, then Natalia Rivera was a shadow cast by randomly placed lights. The normal proofs of life-job history and bills and apartments popped up here and with a strange kind of randomness. Oh, there was a Chicago version of her, but for most of her life, she'd had no credit rating, no credit cards, no driver's licence, no parking tickets, no arrests, and no one who remembered her in anything but the most cursory way.
Which wasn't really out of the ordinary for a young woman thrown on her own at sixteen. Too young to sign a lease at first, who knew where she might have lived or how in the early years? Later, with no money for a car, the lack of a driver's licence made sense as did the lack of credit. A small child meant she probably had no time and no energy to spare for socializing. And no family or support meant moving around and being at society's whim.
It would have been utterly unremarkable under the circumstances, except there was the dead woman in Tucson with the same name and social security number, and several live ones who'd popped up for brief periods in Denver, Santa Fe, and L.A.
Then there was Emily Sotero. The evidence was mostly circumstantial that they were one and the same, but the descriptions matched, the timing matched.
He'd spent several hours playing phone tag with various of Natalia's previous landlords and employers, trying to find some new tidbit of information when one of her former landlord's in Chicago came up with an old reference that was still on file.
It traced back to New York and included a name he'd never heard before, Elena Rivera.
Maybe just a supportive family member, but maybe something else.
Maybe it would prove him right, show that he was the better man, and maybe it would prove him an utter bastard who'd spent two days trying to prove a woman he'd once claimed to care for was a criminal because she'd thrown him over in favor of someone else. It took another two calls, then he came up with a name and the number for a bar where Elena Rivera had supposedly worked nearly a decade before.
He felt his stomach knot as he made that call. "Hi, my name is Frank Cooper," Frank introduced himself as someone picked up. "I'm a detective with the Springfield Police Department. I'm calling for Michael Marino."
"Yeah, that's me. Whaddya want?" The voice that came on the other end of the line was cigarette rough with an accent that would have done Tony Soprano proud.
"I'm working on a case at the moment...hoping you can help me."
"Ok-ay," Marino exhaled cautiously, his tone that of someone ready to bolt if they were the suspect.
"Just so you know...I'm not investigating you in any way...this is involved with a local case."
Again the response was a simple, cautious, "Okay."
"Can you tell me anything about an Elena or Natalia Rivera? Might have worked for you some years back."
Marino was silent for a long moment. "I knew an Elena Rivera," he said at last, his tone cagey. "Maybe ten years ago...she worked for me. Why?" A speculative note entered his voice. "You lookin' for her?"
"No," Frank dismissed flatly. "I'm looking for confirmation she was in New York and also for information on any of her activities at the time." He drew a breath, knowing that ethically speaking, he shouldn't give any information to a possible witness, and yet he found himself adding, "She may be involved in perpetrating a fraud here in Springfield."
Marino snorted softly. "No surprise there," he sneered, relaxing now that he had some idea what Frank was after. "As for activities...fucking me, then fucking me over. Bitch stole ten grand from me, then split town. Haven't seen her since."
Amazing how something could be both a blow to the stomach and a perverse kind of relief. "Can you tell me the circumstances?" Frank requested, his tone as cool and disinterested as he could make it, though he couldn't help but wonder if he succeeded so well when the other man dropped his reticence in favor of all out douchebaggery.
"Yeah, wiggled her ass and shook her ta-tas...and I was dumb enough to be watching that 'steada her hands in my cash register." Marino snorted softly.
Frank's hand fisted tightly on the desk and he had to swallow hard to keep down the meager breakfast he'd nearly choked on. He looked up and noted that Barron was no longer reading and was instead watching silently, his expression set, his body perfectly still. "Did you file a police report when it happened?" Frank demanded, his voice ragged with stress.
"Yeah, sure...not that the cops gave a shit. Hell, she was probably bangin' some'a them too."
Maybe, the bitter thought went through Frank's head almost instantly as he flashed on his own experiences, but he ignored the impulse to press for more details, instead rasping, "Can you give me a description?"
"Yeah," Marino sneered. "Maybe five-three, slim build, long, dark hair, and great tits...really knew how to get a guy spun up...bitch would never have gotten my money if she hadn't worked me over. Barely knew my name by the time she was done with me. That's how she got her hands in the till."
There was a part of Frank that wanted to reach through the phone line and strangle the bastard until he apologized and promised never to look at another woman as long as he lived.
And then there was the part that wanted to nod and confirm that he'd been through it. "Would you recognize her from a picture?"
"Is she naked in it? Has a distinctive birthmark on her right hip as I recall...kinda thumb print shaped...makes a man wanna put his hand right there and hang for the ride."
Frank almost threw up as he remembered having a similar thought on their one night together, but he forced himself to coolly respond, "No, it's just a head shot."
A long pause. "Never looked at her face much-well, 'cept her mouth-but yeah, I can probably recognize her from a picture," Marino said at last.
"Can you meet with me tomorrow?" Frank bit out.
"You show up at the bar and I'll tellya anything I know...particularly if it'll help toss that bitch in jail." He paused for a second, then added, "Hell, if there's any chance of gettin' my money back, I'll say anything you want..." That bit of bait tossed out, he trailed off.
"I'll call you tomorrow to schedule a meeting," Frank clipped, got the address, then hung up. He sat, frozen, not breathing, his heart barely even beating.
"What is it?" Barron questioned after a beat.
"Elena Rivera seduced a bar owner in New York and stole ten thousand dollars from him," Frank breathed, then explained the rest of it, the overlapping references, the matching descriptions, the M.O. that was just like Emily Sotero's, all of it.
"So you're flying to New York to see if it's her?" Barron questioned uncertainly. "Why not just email this guy a copy of her picture?"
Frank shook his head, his tone hard when he answered. "He said he filed a police report and I want to talk to the cops...see if they know anything...but more than that, I need to look this bastard in the eye when he sees her picture...I need to know if he really thinks it's her or if he's just some scumbag who thinks he can get something out of a cop."
Barron drew a breath and Frank had the oddest sense that he was formulating an argument against going, but as he continued staring, he suddenly shook his head. "Good luck finding what you need to."
"I'll be back in a minute," Frank clipped, then slipped out.
Alone, Barron tugged Frank's notebook over, studying his near-illegible notes with a raised eyebrow. Finally, he looked up again, his eyes going to the door through which Frank had exited. "Did my little, blind squirrel actually find a nut?"
He shook his head dazedly.
Would wonders never cease?
* * * * * *
TBC
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia/Natalia
Part: 16
Date: 25 July, 2009
Rating: Personally, I'd call it an R, but some might consider it NC-17 at some point.
Disclaimer: The characters and situations belong to other folks far wealthier, more important (or at least with better lawyers), and hopefully more charitable and kinder than I. They include, but are not necessarily limited to CBS, Proctor and Gamble, and Telenext. The actual arrangement of words, however, remains my own as do any original characters. Meanwhile, there is likely to be all female romantic and sexual activity ahead, so if this is likely to get you, me, or anybody else arrested should you take a gander, please move along. Also, if you find that sort of thing offensive, you really probably shouldn't hang around anyplace I'm posting. Just sayin'....
Archiving: The Pink Rabbit Consortium
Spoilers: Some early scenes definitely, plus anything through the spa trip is fair game.
Timeline: Unlike some folks, I don't have an exact scene where this one takes off. However, it's definitely set after the spa trip, but before Rafe's release from the halfway house. Oh, and it's after Natalia admits she's in love with Olivia to Father Ray.
Earlier Parts: | Part 1 (Prologue) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 |
Life and Breath
by Pink Rabbit Productions
Part 16
Well, at least Emma was having fun, Olivia mused as she nursed a cup of what was termed ice cream at Chuckles, but which she strongly suspected contained several different petroleum products, not to mention seaweed, plastic sprinkles, and artificial flavorings. Yup, it had that made of genuine artificial ingredients tang to it. Stirring the off-white mixture with its brightly colored sprinkles scattered across the top, she noted that it wasn't noticeably changing texture as it warmed-the term melting didn't seem to apply.
"Is that as bad as it looks?" Natalia questioned as she retook her seat next to Olivia after throwing the detritus of their meal away.
"It's definitely not good," the older woman admitted, then carefully set the plastic cup aside, noting as she did so that it was marked as being 100% bioplastic, made from corn. Which meant the cup probably had more edible ingredients than its contents. Ah, yes, food at Chuckles Burger Emporium and Entertainment Sanctorium. Good times. She glanced up, suspiciously eyeing the fuzzy, stuffed animatronics overhead. At least they were blessedly silent for the moment. Their last chorus of Turkey in the Straw some minutes before had left her on the verge of animatronicide, occurring as it had, during a particularly pleasant moment with Natalia. And not for the first time since their arrival. The damn things appeared to be programmed to interfere with even the tiniest hint of adult activity.
"Emma's having a blast though," Natalia noted with a smile as she nodded toward the human Habitrail visible from their table where Emma and a half a dozen other kids were whooping it up.
A tender smile curving her lips, Olivia nodded, glad to see that her daughter's earlier doldrums seemed to have faded. Yeah, there were undoubtedly more issues to be worked out, but Emma was back to something approaching normal. "Yeah, she is." Her smile broadened a notch as she felt Natalia's head against her shoulder and an arm linked with her own. Suddenly Chuckles didn't seem like such a bad place at all. Tipping her head sideways, she felt the brush of cool hair against her cheek as she leaned closer. "And I'm not doing too bad either." She felt the soft vibration of Natalia's answering laugh.
Then Natalia twined her hand around Olivia's to tug her a little closer and things got just a little better.
Or maybe a lot.
And right on cue, the sound of cogs and pneumatics powering up echoed only seconds before the giraffe's head on the wall above them began warbling The Lion Sleeps Tonight, while the zebra and rhinoceros on either side sang the chorus. And the lovely timing just continued. Olivia couldn't help but wonder if maybe Frank had been involved in programming the damn things.
"And yet another song," Natalia sighed as she began seriously rethinking her stance on hunting, so long as the animals in question sang. All singing animals must die was fast becoming her motto.
Tipping her head back, Olivia eyed the overly cheery, overly movemented, and overly noisy stuffed toys with a wry smirk. "I thought that's what every girl dreams of," she drawled, "a romantic serenade by..." she paused and peered around the harsh interior, "...er...fluorescent light."
"Ah, is that what you think?" Natalia questioned doubtfully. "Because I have to be honest, I gotta question the romantic value of the fuzzy, singing critters...a lot."
It was like some perverse challenge, and it sparked some strange need in Olivia to prove that even when surrounded by giant stuffed toys that sang, danced, and shed fake fur on any foodstuffs foolish enough to be in their vicinity, she could still bring it. "Really," she drawled, leaning down so her breath teased a delicate ear, "because, because, y'know I'm all about the fuzzy and the singing...and the serenading..."
Suddenly heat shivered over Natalia's skin like blacktop mirages on a sunny summer day. "I..." she exhaled, awareness threading through every nerve ending in her body. Then she turned her head and got caught in the trap of eyes that sparked and danced, commanding her attention and drawing her desire. If anyone had ever told her that she would one day find a love who could turn her to jelly in the middle of Chuckles, she would have recommended psychiatric treatment, yet there she was, terrified that Olivia would finally slip the bounds of propriety and kiss her right there, and equally terrified she wouldn't. "Olivia," she exhaled, the single word equal parts plea and warning.
"Yes?" the older woman questioned, drawing the word out and giving it a unique spin that set Natalia's insides tumbling.
Natalia's brain raced as she tried to find something clever to say, some witty remark that might impress the other woman. She almost had something. It was right on the tip of her tongue when Olivia leaned a little closer, her voice a husky contralto purr too low to be heard by anyone but the woman pressed against her side as she sang along with the chorus, "A weemaway, a weemaway..."
Natalia's breath caught and every thought she'd ever had went right out the window as she instinctively angled a little closer. How in God's name could lyrics that ridiculous send shivers down her spine? "You're evil, Olivia Spencer," she breathed, heart throbbing in her chest as Olivia grinned at her, her expression made of raw sensuality dipped in pure adoration.
"Mmhm, kinda known for that," Olivia drawled, her eyes as soft as her tone was knowing.
"Olivia," Natalia gasped as her body ramped up over no more than the look in the other woman's eyes. She thought the singing had finally stopped, though it was hard to be certain what with the ringing in her ears. "We're in the middle of Chuckles."
Olivia's grin broadened a notch. "Not really the middle, more of a side room," she noted with a quick look around to confirm that no one had come in behind them while she was watching Emma. As she turned back, her mouth twisted into a wicked smile and she leaned a little closer.
Natalia knew that look. "Don't. You. Dare," she warned the other woman even as she felt her pulse kick into overdrive and her palms start to sweat. For just a moment, she was certain that Olivia had no intention of stopping, then suddenly, she grinned and laughed, leaning back, her pose lazily seductive.
"Relax," Olivia chuckled and waved a hand in dismissal. "I'll be good," she reassured Natalia, wisely deciding to ignore just how tempted she'd been to push the envelope and taste soft lips, no matter how inappropriate the circumstances. "Angelic even." She did her best to look as innocent as a newborn lamb.
Natalia snorted softly, but concluded the other woman was back on her best behavior and so leaned back, then angled so her head was resting against a firm shoulder.
Olivia didn't say a word, just smiled. Her gaze swung to settle on the playing children. Emma was still having a ball running wild on the Habitrail with the other kids. This, she thought with supreme satisfaction, is how life is supposed to be.
A hint of a worried frown creased the younger woman's forehead as she watched the child who had come to mean so much to her laugh and play. She seemed all right now, but her earlier mood had been so offish that Natalia was on edge. "Do you think she's really okay with us now?"
Glancing over, Olivia tightened her hold on the arm wrapped around her own. Generally Emma was almost too emotionally stable, but she was still an eight year-old kid. "I think it may be up and down for awhile. She's got a lot to deal with...but I also know that she loves you and she'll work through any problems." She peered into dark eyes, her expression as reassuring as she knew how to make it. "It's going to be okay."
Pausing for a moment, Natalia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Do I sound hopelessly paranoid?" she questioned after a beat.
"No," Olivia assured her as she offered a lopsided smile. "You sound like a worried parent."
And how was it, Natalia wondered as she felt her heart catch, that she could find the softly spoken reassurance nearly as arousing as the blatant seduction game they'd just played. She felt her breath catch as her heart contracted a little harder. "Olivia," she whispered, "I-"
The soft, electronic jangle of Olivia's cell phone interrupted mid-word. The older woman tried to ignore the sound, but she'd never been good at leaving a ringing phone alone, even when it appeared they were in collusion with singing fuzzy animals to interrupt key moments in her life. She peered at her purse as it continued to ring, her hand hovering just so, not quite reaching, but not backing off either. "I...ahm-"
"Get it," Natalia ordered through a grin. Getting between Olivia and her cell phone was just asking for trouble.
Olivia didn't waste a second. She checked the caller I.D."It's the Beacon," she said through a frown even as she clicked on.
Natalia noted that Olivia barely had time to introduce herself before she was caught up in whatever she was being told.
The joys of owning a hotel. Something was always going wrong. A frown creased elegant features as Olivia listened to the tale of the latest travail. Finally, she drew a deep breath, her tone thoughtful as she spoke, "Call Nick Cranston at Cranston Safety...his number's on file...tell him what the problem is...and assure him we'll pay whatever's necessary to get it fixed today. No, given that it's an emergency exit, it needs to be dealt with asap...and just chaining it down isn't acceptable. If there was a problem, wait staff could be trapped. Meanwhile, put somebody from security on it-I don't want any risk of people wandering in and out unsupervised-and check and see if there's anything missing. We'll need to file a police report and an insurance claim if there is." She paused for a long moment. "Actually, we may need to do that either way if Nick thinks it was broken intentionally."
Natalia settled a hand on Olivia's shoulder, massaging lightly as she felt a ripple of tension slide through the other woman.
"No...I'm out with Emma right now," Olivia explained, "but I'll be in to check on things in a little while. Thanks, Sam..." A few more comments and she hung up.
"What happened?" Natalia questioned instantly.
Olivia shrugged. "It's the basement fire exit...apparently a waiter fell, and hit the door on his way down. It pushed open. The lock was broken and the alarm disengaged."
"Intentionally?"
"Sam said there was no sign of damage...scratches or anything like that, but..." Olivia shrugged. "She thinks maybe it happened when we had the plumbers in last week. They were pretty ham handed... She said there's no indication that anything was disturbed or stolen. Security's supposed to check all doors nightly, but... That one's out of the way. It could be missed." She shrugged again. "I'm sure Nick'll assess the situation when he fixes it."
"Do you need to head over there?"
Olivia considered the question for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah, Sam should be able to handle it." She leaned back on the bench, pointing at Emma as she went flying up a ladder to dive through a tunnel and into a ball bounce room. "Besides, she's having too much fun. I don't have the heart to end it early." Tangling a hand with Natalia's, she tugged her close, smiling as she felt the weight of the other woman's head on her shoulder. "And I have to admit," she murmured as she turned her head until her breath ruffled dark hair, "I'm kinda enjoying myself too."
"Really?" Natalia drawled and tipped her head back to peer up at Olivia, a relaxed smile curving her lips.
Grinning, Olivia ducked her head. "Yeah," she confirmed, then held up her free hand, thumb and index finger almost touching. "Just a tiny bit." She leaned a little closer, grateful for their semi-private location. Not that she was going to push things too much, but then again.... "Hardly noticeable at all," she added on a bare breath.
Then the grinning walrus in the corner of the room gave a noisy warning creak before launching into an a capella version of Yellow Submarine, accompanied by the penguins floating on a neighboring platform of Styrofoam ice and several fish that popped their heads out of a sea of shredded blue Mylar.
Yup, Frank had definitely been in on programming the little bastards, Olivia thought as she felt Natalia shake with laughter, then she peered down into dancing brown eyes and forgot all about any music but the tune playing in her heart.
* * * * * *
Sunday in the Springfield P.D. squadroom gave all new meaning to the word dead. With no prisoners in the holding cells, any uniforms on patrol, and detectives strictly on call, it was an ideal place to go if you didn't want to attract attention.
Which Frank didn't.
Barron was there too, helping him work through the info he'd gathered, trying to find a way to merge two lives that on first glance seemed so disparate.
It was no simple trick, because, if Emily Sotero was a ghost who appeared and faded away on a whim, then Natalia Rivera was a shadow cast by randomly placed lights. The normal proofs of life-job history and bills and apartments popped up here and with a strange kind of randomness. Oh, there was a Chicago version of her, but for most of her life, she'd had no credit rating, no credit cards, no driver's licence, no parking tickets, no arrests, and no one who remembered her in anything but the most cursory way.
Which wasn't really out of the ordinary for a young woman thrown on her own at sixteen. Too young to sign a lease at first, who knew where she might have lived or how in the early years? Later, with no money for a car, the lack of a driver's licence made sense as did the lack of credit. A small child meant she probably had no time and no energy to spare for socializing. And no family or support meant moving around and being at society's whim.
It would have been utterly unremarkable under the circumstances, except there was the dead woman in Tucson with the same name and social security number, and several live ones who'd popped up for brief periods in Denver, Santa Fe, and L.A.
Then there was Emily Sotero. The evidence was mostly circumstantial that they were one and the same, but the descriptions matched, the timing matched.
He'd spent several hours playing phone tag with various of Natalia's previous landlords and employers, trying to find some new tidbit of information when one of her former landlord's in Chicago came up with an old reference that was still on file.
It traced back to New York and included a name he'd never heard before, Elena Rivera.
Maybe just a supportive family member, but maybe something else.
Maybe it would prove him right, show that he was the better man, and maybe it would prove him an utter bastard who'd spent two days trying to prove a woman he'd once claimed to care for was a criminal because she'd thrown him over in favor of someone else. It took another two calls, then he came up with a name and the number for a bar where Elena Rivera had supposedly worked nearly a decade before.
He felt his stomach knot as he made that call. "Hi, my name is Frank Cooper," Frank introduced himself as someone picked up. "I'm a detective with the Springfield Police Department. I'm calling for Michael Marino."
"Yeah, that's me. Whaddya want?" The voice that came on the other end of the line was cigarette rough with an accent that would have done Tony Soprano proud.
"I'm working on a case at the moment...hoping you can help me."
"Ok-ay," Marino exhaled cautiously, his tone that of someone ready to bolt if they were the suspect.
"Just so you know...I'm not investigating you in any way...this is involved with a local case."
Again the response was a simple, cautious, "Okay."
"Can you tell me anything about an Elena or Natalia Rivera? Might have worked for you some years back."
Marino was silent for a long moment. "I knew an Elena Rivera," he said at last, his tone cagey. "Maybe ten years ago...she worked for me. Why?" A speculative note entered his voice. "You lookin' for her?"
"No," Frank dismissed flatly. "I'm looking for confirmation she was in New York and also for information on any of her activities at the time." He drew a breath, knowing that ethically speaking, he shouldn't give any information to a possible witness, and yet he found himself adding, "She may be involved in perpetrating a fraud here in Springfield."
Marino snorted softly. "No surprise there," he sneered, relaxing now that he had some idea what Frank was after. "As for activities...fucking me, then fucking me over. Bitch stole ten grand from me, then split town. Haven't seen her since."
Amazing how something could be both a blow to the stomach and a perverse kind of relief. "Can you tell me the circumstances?" Frank requested, his tone as cool and disinterested as he could make it, though he couldn't help but wonder if he succeeded so well when the other man dropped his reticence in favor of all out douchebaggery.
"Yeah, wiggled her ass and shook her ta-tas...and I was dumb enough to be watching that 'steada her hands in my cash register." Marino snorted softly.
Frank's hand fisted tightly on the desk and he had to swallow hard to keep down the meager breakfast he'd nearly choked on. He looked up and noted that Barron was no longer reading and was instead watching silently, his expression set, his body perfectly still. "Did you file a police report when it happened?" Frank demanded, his voice ragged with stress.
"Yeah, sure...not that the cops gave a shit. Hell, she was probably bangin' some'a them too."
Maybe, the bitter thought went through Frank's head almost instantly as he flashed on his own experiences, but he ignored the impulse to press for more details, instead rasping, "Can you give me a description?"
"Yeah," Marino sneered. "Maybe five-three, slim build, long, dark hair, and great tits...really knew how to get a guy spun up...bitch would never have gotten my money if she hadn't worked me over. Barely knew my name by the time she was done with me. That's how she got her hands in the till."
There was a part of Frank that wanted to reach through the phone line and strangle the bastard until he apologized and promised never to look at another woman as long as he lived.
And then there was the part that wanted to nod and confirm that he'd been through it. "Would you recognize her from a picture?"
"Is she naked in it? Has a distinctive birthmark on her right hip as I recall...kinda thumb print shaped...makes a man wanna put his hand right there and hang for the ride."
Frank almost threw up as he remembered having a similar thought on their one night together, but he forced himself to coolly respond, "No, it's just a head shot."
A long pause. "Never looked at her face much-well, 'cept her mouth-but yeah, I can probably recognize her from a picture," Marino said at last.
"Can you meet with me tomorrow?" Frank bit out.
"You show up at the bar and I'll tellya anything I know...particularly if it'll help toss that bitch in jail." He paused for a second, then added, "Hell, if there's any chance of gettin' my money back, I'll say anything you want..." That bit of bait tossed out, he trailed off.
"I'll call you tomorrow to schedule a meeting," Frank clipped, got the address, then hung up. He sat, frozen, not breathing, his heart barely even beating.
"What is it?" Barron questioned after a beat.
"Elena Rivera seduced a bar owner in New York and stole ten thousand dollars from him," Frank breathed, then explained the rest of it, the overlapping references, the matching descriptions, the M.O. that was just like Emily Sotero's, all of it.
"So you're flying to New York to see if it's her?" Barron questioned uncertainly. "Why not just email this guy a copy of her picture?"
Frank shook his head, his tone hard when he answered. "He said he filed a police report and I want to talk to the cops...see if they know anything...but more than that, I need to look this bastard in the eye when he sees her picture...I need to know if he really thinks it's her or if he's just some scumbag who thinks he can get something out of a cop."
Barron drew a breath and Frank had the oddest sense that he was formulating an argument against going, but as he continued staring, he suddenly shook his head. "Good luck finding what you need to."
"I'll be back in a minute," Frank clipped, then slipped out.
Alone, Barron tugged Frank's notebook over, studying his near-illegible notes with a raised eyebrow. Finally, he looked up again, his eyes going to the door through which Frank had exited. "Did my little, blind squirrel actually find a nut?"
He shook his head dazedly.
Would wonders never cease?
* * * * * *
TBC