Chapter 5: First Steps
“And what did you find during your search?” ADA Robin Wood asked pointedly.
“There was a .35 under the driver’s side seat,” Detective Riley Finn answered properly.
“This gun?” Wood held up an evidence bag.
“That’s the one,” Riley agreed.
“Prosecution Exhibit A once more,” Wood clarified.
“Let it be so noted,” Judge Greenberg nodded.
Wood turned back to his witness. “What, if anything, led you to believe that this gun was the murder weapon?”
“I smelled the barrel, and it had been fired recently,” Riley provided. “Two bullets were missing from the chamber. That, and we found Mister Albrook with the body after he had returned the gun to his car.”
“Thank you,” Wood said confidently. “No further questions for this witness.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath to compose herself, smiled inwardly at the comforting squeeze she got on her knee, and rose. “Detective Finn,” she began briskly. “Did you, personally, find my client hovering over Mister Worth’s body?”
Riley frowned slightly. “No,” he admitted, “but my partner, Detective Gates, did.”
Elizabeth nodded and checked her notes. “What exactly happened just prior to Mister Albrook’s arrest?” she demanded.
“We spotted Mister Albrook entering the building. He then came out with a gun and put it in his car before he went back up. We ran in and-“
Elizabeth cut him off. “You saw him put the gun in the car?” she demanded.
“No, but my partner-“
“Just tell me what you personally experienced that night,” Elizabeth clarified. “Keep everything your partner told you out of it.”
Riley shifted uncomfortably at that, obviously not liking the idea of breaking up the solidarity of his partnership with Detective Gates. “I went down to the corner coffee shop to buy us some sandwiches,” he began. “While I was waiting, Detective Gates called me on my cell phone and reported that he’d seen someone suspicious enter the building with a gun. He said that he was going in with Officer Miller. I hurried back down to 59th street and heard shouting up from Mister Worth’s room. I ran up the stairs and found that my partner and Officer Miller had cuffed and arrested Mister Albrook. They then told me that they’d seen him enter the building less than ten minutes before and then exit again with the weapon. When he returned to the scene of the crime, they arrested him. I helped Officer Miller hold the defendant while Detective Gates ran down to our car to call the ambulance.”
“I see,” Elizabeth agreed. “So, you can’t actually testify that the defendant put that gun in his car, can you?”
“My partner-“
“From your personal observations that night, you cannot testify to this fact. Is that correct?” she repeated.
Narrowed eyes. “Yes,” he admitted grudgingly.
“Your Honor,” Elizabeth turned to Judge Greenberg, “the defense requests that all testimony regarding my client’s handling of the murder weapon be stricken from the record.”
“What?!” Wood exclaimed, rising up in objection.
Judge Greenberg sighed. “Approach,” he requested.
“It’s entirely hearsay, Your Honor,” Elizabeth said calmly, leaning up against the judge’s bench.
“From other law enforcement officers under the witness’ supervision,” Wood amended. “Primary detectives frequently testify as to the evidence discovered by those under their command.”
“But not,” Elizabeth countered, “in a case where the defense position rests upon the agency of individual officers suspected of rigging evidence.”
“These claims are all speculative,” Wood insisted.
“The defense is allowed to present any valid alternatives to the events surrounding the crime,” Elizabeth countered, “including the doctoring of evidence. In which case, this witness is not qualified to testify to what actually occurred.”
“There’s no reason to believe-” Wood began.
“That’s for the jury to determine,” Elizabeth shot back.
“Counselors, please,” Judge Greenberg said wearily. He turned to Wood. “Ms. Summers has a point. If you want Detective Gates or Officer Miller’s statements on the record, call them in to testify.”
A reluctant nod and Wood returned to his seat.
“The jury will disregard all this witness’ testimony regarding the defendant’s possession and disposal of the weapon,” Judge Greenberg instructed the courtroom. “Ms. Summers?”
Elizabeth nodded and turned to question Riley once more. “You found the gun after Detective Gates had been back down to the your car. Is that correct?”
Another surly, “yes.”
“So, to your knowledge, the gun might not even have been in my client’s car when you arrested him?” she concluded.
“I know where you’re going with this-” he began angrily.
“Is it possible that someone else planted the gun in my client’s car while you were busy arresting him?” she insisted.
“It’s possible,” he grumbled. “But Detective-“
“You’ve answered the question,” Elizabeth cut him off abruptly. “While you had the defendant under arrest, did you have occasion to examine his hands for gun powder residue?”
“It was the first thing I did,” Riley assured her. “There was none.”
“And what did that indicate to you?” she asked pointedly.
Riley sighed. “That the defendant couldn’t have fired the murder weapon without wearing gloves or some other kind of protective covering over his hands,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“And did you find gloves or any other item with powder marks on it?” she inquired.
“No,” he admitted.
“Now, moving along.you say that you found the gun under the driver’s seat?”
“That’s correct,” Riley agreed.
“Where exactly?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Under the seat itself,” Riley answered, “about halfway back.”
“So, you couldn’t see it from a cursory inspection?” she inquired.
“No,” he agreed.
“It was pretty far back.”
He nodded. “Like it had been hidden under the seat.”
“And can you account for the fact that Detective Gates and Officer Miller didn’t hear any shots fired?” she asked.
Riley sighed. “No,” he admitted.
“No silencer of any type was found?” she demanded.
“No,” Riley agreed. “I can’t explain it.”
Elizabeth nodded knowingly. “Just one more thing. You and your partner, Detective Gates, were in charge of arresting Mister Trick for the triple homicide back in June, is that right?”
“Yes,” Riley nodded.
“And the defendant’s testimony was the primary evidence that could have released Mister Trick?”
“That’s right. He testified the day before the shooting,” Riley provided.
“What did you and your partner think about his testimony?” she demanded.
Riley took a deep breath. “That the defendant had probably just gotten our collar off,” he confessed.
“And how would that case stand if the defendant were convicted of this murder?” she pressed.
Some uncomfortable shifting. “It would throw all his other testimony into question,” he conceded.
“Thank you, Detective Finn. The defense has no further questions for this witness.”
“Detective Finn, you may step down,” Judge Greenberg stated. “And, given the late hour, this court will adjourn until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Dismissed.” The gavel rang through the courtroom.
Elizabeth gave Spike a hopeful smile as he helped pack away all her reports. “That was good,” she informed him.
“What’s all this ’bout Gates?” he demanded.
“Riley’s a clean cop,” she explained. “Trying to make him out to be a liar is tenuous. But Gates has a bit of a record with-” She cut off at the tap on her shoulder.
“Notice to add Detective Forrest Gates to the prosecution witness list,” Robin Wood informed her curtly, dropping the papers in her hands.
“This got drafted in a hurry,” she commented skeptically.
“You honestly thought I wouldn’t anticipate this move?” Wood countered before turning away from them coldly and exiting the courtroom.
“Ouch,” Elizabeth winced slightly.
Spike snorted. “Don’t need that git anyway, luv,” he assured her. “Spends too much time leerin’ at you.”
Elizabeth gave him a wry smile. “And you don’t?” she countered coyly, leading him out into the hallway.
“‘S different when it’s me,” he answered cheekily, raising his sexy scarred eyebrow at her.
She laughed. “I just need to check this,” she waved the witness notification, “so that I can sign my approval.”
“And then we get our witness that we can rip to shreds,” Spike agreed with an evil little grin. “And then I can finally fix my look again.” He ran an unenthusiastic hand through his currently black hair.
“Never thought I’d see the day when you’d say that black doesn’t suit you,” she countered.
“Bloody lawyers,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing that she had him there. “‘ll be in the car.”
“I’ll just be a minute,” she assured him, watching him go with a bit of a leer herself. God, she wanted him back. In any other circumstances.
“Quite a show you put on back there,” a gruff voice interrupted her not-so-intellectual introspection.
Elizabeth turned and let out a weary sigh when she saw Riley. “Look,” she began.
“You accused my partner of rigging this case,” he insisted angrily. “What the hell was that?”
Elizabeth felt herself getting mildly irritated as well. “Even you’ve got to admit that the evidence doesn’t quite work out,” she retorted.
“Forrest doesn’t lie to me,” Riley repeated vehemently.
“And William doesn’t lie to me,” Elizabeth said just as confidently.
“I can’t believe you’re siding with him,” Riley practically spat out. “You’re making your office look bad, the police department, everything you’ve ever fought for.”
“I’ve fought,” Elizabeth corrected, “to keep criminals off the streets. I don’t convict innocents.”
“You can’t possibly know that,” Riley shot back. “If Albrook wasn’t an old flame, do you honestly think you wouldn’t be after his blood right now?”
“Maybe,” Elizabeth conceded, “but if I ever found out he was innocent, I’d let him go.”
“Yeah, well, except for you, the general consensus is that your client’s guilty,” Riley shot back.
“But I know differently,” Elizabeth insisted. “If I wanted to indict Sam.” she began.
“That’s different,” Riley said angrily. “Sam’s my wife.”
“It’s not so different,” Elizabeth concluded. “Not so different at all.”
* * *
Buffy let out a hoarse scream as she came, panting desperately for breath as the world crashed around her. Above her, William was moving at an ever more frantic pace, close to his own release.
“God, Buffy,” he moaned into her ear, “you’re beautiful, luv, feel like heaven.”
His body tensed above her then for an instant before his jaw clenched in that way that it always did right before he came and he lost complete control of himself, thrusting deep within her wildly.
Buffy clung on tight as the tip of his erection pounded sensuously against the soft pleasure center deep within her, and she gasped aloud in amazement as a second, unexpected orgasm overtook her.
William came with a roar as well, shooting his seed deep within her womb. He fell atop her in exhaustion for a second, lazy contentment overtaking his body, before he remembered that the woman beneath him needed to breathe. He slipped out of her, already shrinking and softening, and flopped down at her side wearily. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he stretched out his aching limbs and pulled her up against him for some quality snuggling time.
“That was how many times for you?” he asked cockily. “Five?”
“Yeah, but I faked them all,” she teased.
He scowled at her. “Better give you five more, then,” he concluded, moving to roll her back over onto her back.
“William!” she squealed, batting at him playfully with her hands. “Eek! Wet spot!”
“Then tell me you weren’t fakin’ it,” he countered with an evil grin, holding her threateningly over the spoiled spot on the sheets.
A soft smile crossed her face. “You know I never have to fake with you,” she assured him.
A wide grin lit up his face, and he caught her lips in a passionate kiss before he lay her back down against the warm of his chest.
Buffy rolled her eyes. Ever since she’d taught him how to pleasure her, he’d become a man obsessed, insisting that no matter how many times he made her come it could never possibly be as good as what she did to him. Hence, he’d declared a ground rule that he always had to make her come at least three times. Usually more. At least one of which had to be while he was inside her. She had the sneaking suspicion she’d created a monster, but at least she’d created a good, sexually-experienced one.
With a little grin, she hugged him tighter and burrowed her nose into the smooth muscles of his chest. God, he was wonderful. The things he did to her. He was unlike anyone else she’d ever been with, as if he alone could light the fire deep within her.
“My contented little minx,” he whispered in that growly accent that had become more prevalent lately.
Over the past two years, he’d dropped the ultra-formal style, first only when they were alone and passionate together, but then more and more until he finally spoke naturally to everyone but his father, who had forced the precision on him in the first place.
Buffy liked the change. If at all possible, it made him sound even sexier. Plus, it had been fun to watch Cordelia drool all over the place when she first heard how the word “luv” rumbled through his lips.
“So, I take it classes today were stressful?” she asked lightly, tracing archaic patterns into the pale skin of his chest.
He chuckled. “How could you possibly ‘ve guessed?” he teased.
“Well, let’s see,” she joked right back, “within five seconds of arriving home I was attacked by Pent Up Frustration made corporeal and was sexual assaulted for the next two hours.”
“Yeah, that would be the stressful day,” he agreed.
Buffy sighed. “Tell me about it?”
“Dad called,” he said simply.
She arched up against him to place a gentle kiss on his brow. He didn’t talk about his dad often, but she’d gathered enough to know that the Albrook family pressure had been one of the major factors that had caused him to draw back into himself. She considered it one of her crowning achievements that she’d finally pulled him out of his defensive shell, made him a man both literally and figuratively.
“What did he want?” Her head rested on the pillow next to his now, her lips just brushing his cheek as she spoke, offering him whatever comfort he wanted.
“Still wants me to go back to England after I graduate,” he said dully. “Induct me into the Family Hall of Wankers and all that rot.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to tell him to fuck off?” she teased.
William snorted. “He hates you enough as it is. ‘Unsophisticated Americans’ trying to corrupt me.”
She smiled and kissed him slowly on the lips, her tongue playing against them softly but persistently, demanding access. His lips parted at her request and joined in her passion, savoring touch, taste, scent.
“Do you think William’s a wanker’s name?” he asked abruptly, pulling away from her lips.
She raised a curious eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”
“Thinkin’ I need a nickname,” he provided. “Something less poncy.”
“Well,” she said with a sigh, hand snaking down between his legs, “I don’t think William’s a wanker’s name at all.” She gave him a slight squeeze and felt his length twitch within her grasp, still too worn out from their latest lovemaking to become fully erect but enjoying her attentions nonetheless. “If I’ve correctly translated Bizarre British Slang into Normal Human English correctly, then a wanker wouldn’t have a beautiful girlfriend to get him off.”
His eyes shut tight, and he let out an appreciative purr. “Point,” he conceded.
“Besides,” she concluded, “I like you just the way you are.”
His eyelashes fluttered open, and he looked up at her with an expression of such abject love that she almost had to turn away from the intensity of it. “Marry me,” he pleaded in a whisper.
Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. He’d always been a bit impulsive, but this. “Y-You’re serious?” she stammered.
He shrugged. “Why not?” His arms slid up and down her bare back, sending little tingles down her spine. “I love you, you love me, and we both want to be together.”
She blushed. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, index finger playing gently with his full lower lip.
He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment eighteen pounds of malicious black fur decided to leap onto his stomach. “Oh, bloody hell!” he exclaimed in annoyance, scowling evilly at his foe. “Know I locked you outside.”
Angel’s yellow eyes narrowed, and one by one he extended each of his twenty-eight claws.
Buffy yanked Angel up off of William before World War III could break out. “Don’t be attacking my fiancé now,” she chided the cat with good humor.
William’s suspicious eyes left the feline for the first time. “That’s a ‘yes’, then?” A delighted smile lit up the corners of his lips.
“After we graduate,” she clarified before nodding eagerly.
“Luv.” he practically purred, pressing his lips to hers.
“Rrowl!” Angel protested, striking out at William and completely breaking the mood.
Buffy giggled while William sulked, gingerly rubbing his arm where the massive feline had scratched him. “Don’t s’pose we could ditch the monster?” he grumbled under his breath.
Buffy hugged Angel. “No way I’m giving my Angel up,” she teased. “You want to marry me, then you’ll have to accept my great first love, too.”
William’s eyes narrowed at that assessment. “You’re sure you couldn’t take the pleasant one, and leave this devil with Willow?” he asked in vain hope.
“Oz is Willow’s, and Angel is mine,” Buffy insisted, getting up out of bed and carrying the cat over to the door that it had somehow managed to get open. She set Angel down on the floor outside before shutting him out once more. “There,” she concluded, turning back to face him.
William licked his lips at the sight of her naked body sauntering back over to the bed. “S’pose I could be.compensated for having to keep the cat,” he commented with a sly smile.
“Oh, and how’s that?” she teased, sitting on the end of the bed before slowly crawling up his body.
“Think consummating our engagement will do nicely enough for now,” he concluded, pulling her down onto his hardness.
“Again?” she said in wide-eyed surprise, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’.
“Again,” he agreed, rolling them over before his tongue began to do the most wonderful things to her body, playing her like a finely-tuned harp.
Buffy lay back and sighed. Yup, she’d certainly created a monster all right. A monster who had somehow developed the stamina of five men.
* * *
“So, how’d it go today?” were Xander’s first words as Elizabeth and Spike stepped into the offices of Albrook, Harris, and Jenkins, Private Investigators.
“Not bad,” Spike said with a shrug, plopping down into the corner chair. “We got anything here?”
“Still no luck with the real killer,” Xander shrugged apologetically. “Frankly, I’m not sure we can get him.”
“We should concentrate on the other side of things, then,” Elizabeth suggested, sitting pointedly on the edge of the blonde secretary’s desk and blocking the woman’s scandalously revealing outfit from Spike’s view. Elizabeth had little to no doubt that Harmony was trying to seduce her ex, and even the thought made her blood boil.
“And who put you in charge?” Harmony’s nasal twang demanded. She didn’t like Elizabeth any better than Elizabeth liked her. That lawyer bitch had the nerve to break up with her Blondie Bear and now thought that she could steal him right out from under her nose? Well, she’d show who Spike really loved. The fact that he’d never responded to her advances in any kind of way was just a technicality.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at the vapid blonde. “Aren’t you supposed to be answering phones or something?” she snapped back.
Harmony gasped with wide-eyed outrage at the slight and moved to speak again, but she was cut off by the annoyed voice of the other woman in the room.
“If Spike ever decides he wants to have sex with either of you, I’m sure he’ll inform you,” Anya said in annoyance. “Now, can we cut out the bickering and cut back to work? I’ll have you know this assignment is cutting severely into the paid overtime I could be getting for the Tomkins case.”
Elizabeth, Harmony, and Spike all blushed at Anya’s characteristic bluntness, and Xander chuckled, placing one hand in the small of his fiancée’s back.
“Now, what do you need us to do?” Anya demanded, once she’d concluded that the petty in-fighting was over.
“I need background checks on Detective Forrest Gates and Officer Graham Miller,” Elizabeth explained crisply. “It looks like we’re going to have to crack one of them to get at the truth.”
Xander nodded and took notes. “What else?”
“Wood’s got his forensics experts on tomorrow,” she reported. “What do we have on how William’s prints could’ve gotten on that gun?”
A satisfied smile lit up Anya’s face. “Xander and I were working on it last night,” she began, removing an object from her desk drawer and dangling it proudly before her. “With these.”
Elizabeth and Spike blinked at the handcuffs warily. This had all the makings of another of Anya’s ‘too much information’ moments.
“Uh, ‘s nice, pet,” Spike began uncomfortably, “but we don’t really hafta hear about-“
“Yes, you do,” she cut him off matter-of-factly, slapping one of the cuffs onto his wrist.
“Hey!” Elizabeth protested, a hint of jealousy sneaking up inside of her.
“I’m not playing bondage games with your man,” Anya assured her briskly. “I’m just demonstrating how it was done.”
Somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth logically knew that she should object to the assessment of Spike as ‘her man’. But the words sounded so right in her head that she let it pass for the moment. “This had better be good,” she concluded, arms crossed over her chest in irritation.
“It is,” Anya assured her, gesturing for Spike to kneel down on the floor in front of her.
He eyed her suspiciously, but since Xander wasn’t objecting, he figured this was on the up and up. Anya kneed him painfully in the center of the back and forced his face down to the floor.
“Oi!” he exclaimed in outrage. “That hurts!”
Elizabeth watched in fascination, though, as Anya used one hand to press Spike’s hands together to put the second cuff on while the other slipped out the revolver from her holster gingerly and pressed the butt against his squirming fingers for an instant. Spike didn’t even notice, mistaking the cold metal for the cuffs being put on him.
Anya handed Xander the gun after the prints had been doctored. “Show her,” she demanded before uncuffing Spike once more.
“What was that all about?” he grumbled sullenly before Elizabeth gestured to where Xander was now taking prints from the gun.
“They turn out the way the forensics people got the prints,” Xander explained, showing them the weapon. “Even the police report noted that the print placement was odd, not the way they’d look when someone had their finger on the trigger.”
Spike blinked. “You did that while you cuffed me?” he demanded of Anya.
She nodded proudly. “It’s actually a very simple way of doctoring prints. And then, after we’d proven my theory, we used the handcuffs for-“
“Uh, they really don’t need to hear about that, Ahn,” Xander nudged her pointedly.
Anya folded her arms across her chest and mumbled something under her breath that sounded a lot like an insult about how sexually repressed they all were.
Spike’s eyes narrowed at the gun before he handed it back to Anya. “That connivin’ git,” he growled low in his chest. “He was settin’ me up all along.”
Elizabeth put a comforting hand on his forearm, thrilling slightly at the powerful muscles she felt tensing beneath. “We’ll get them for this,” she assured him. “The IAB will be all over Forrest and Graham over this.”
The thought didn’t seem to pacify Spike. “Let’s just go home,” he grumbled.
“Was that what you needed to show me?” Elizabeth inquired, grabbing hold of his sleeve and keeping him from going until they were done.
Anya nodded. “I’m back to the underworld,” she agreed in a chipper voice.
“And I’ll get everything we can on Gates and Miller,” Xander promised. “You two just worry about the trial.”
Elizabeth spared him a grateful smile before following Spike’s persistent urges and heading back for the car. He was silent during the drive, jaw muscle ticking angrily, and the urge to hold him until he relaxed in her arms was nearly overwhelming. She managed to refrain, though; Spike hugging would probably fall very neatly on the list of Top Ten Driving Distractions.
And once they got home – and just when had she started thinking of it as their home, anyway? – Spike had trudged right upstairs to the guestroom, denying her the opportunity to offer him comfort. She bit her lip as she checked through her mail and refilled Angel’s water dish. She could understand why he was upset, really she could. Even though he had known all along that he’d been framed, finding out how actively maliciously the evidence had been planted against him had to be rough.
She just wished that he wouldn’t pull away from her and be all secretive about the stuff that was troubling him. After all, it had happened before and.
“Ahhh! Buffy, help!”
The sudden shout nearly gave her a heart attack. “What is it?” she demanded, approaching the bottom of the stairs.
“There’s somethin’ wrong with your cat!” he called back down in alarm.
Elizabeth felt a momentary pang of worry at that and rushed up the stairs and into his room before she breathed a sigh of relief. Angel was quite well and circling Spike’s booted ankles incessantly, purring all the while.
“He’s not tryin’ to claw me or anythin’,” Spike insisted, wide-eyed. “Think he might’ve hit his head or something. ‘S the only explanation.”
Elizabeth laughed at that and saved Spike from the suddenly amorous cat. “Maybe he’s just finally decided he likes you,” she countered.
“Yeah, and hell’s frozen over,” he shot back, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She sat down beside him, and Angel settled comfortably in her lap. “Maybe he missed you when you were gone,” she suggested shyly.
He seemed to catch a double-meaning in her words and looked down at his hands. “Yeah,” he commented non-commitally.
Elizabeth ventured to reach up and brush an ebony curl back from his forehead. “If you need to talk about anything.” she began hesitantly.
“Yeah,” he sighed, turning slightly into her touch. “I-I hate to sound pathetic.” he began slowly.
“You won’t,” she assured him softly.
He nodded curtly. “Why me?” he finally demanded, looking at her with eyes so clear and blue they still took her breath away.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “Maybe you were just the easiest target.”
“Hate this,” he grumbled, getting up and heading to the bathroom.
Elizabeth rose at that as well, taking her cue. “I know,” she agreed. A pause. “I’m so sorry, William.”
He froze in the doorway for a second as if the words had stunned him speechless for a second. Then, “‘m sorry, too.” He turned back to face her, eyes wide and vulnerable.and yawned.
Elizabeth smiled. “You need to get some rest,” she concluded, hefting Angel over her shoulder and walking back out into the hallway.
“Yeah, I prob’ly do,” he admitted, leaning against the frame casually and watching her every moment with undisguised want. “G’night.”
“Good night,” she agreed, giving his hand one final squeeze before she carried Angel back downstairs to his dinner, excited butterflies in her stomach and an extra spring in her step.