

## REEL

## Sharpe

### Jenna Baker

Copyright © 2014 Jenna Baker

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0615981739

ISBN-13: 978-0615981734

Cover Design: Lauren Borgersen Ras

Copy Editor: Emma Greenstein

### DEDICATION

For Brandon, who always pushed me to follow my dreams

### Chapter 1.

I had seen a lot of things in my last eight years as a reality television producer. I'd seen contestants share their first kisses and first crushes. I'd seen them break up, make up, conquer their fears and face their enemies. The list went on and on. But tonight was going to top everything. Tonight I was about to see my first dead body.

My latest assignment was a cable show called _Murder Live!_ , about real life detectives investigating homicides. According to the LAPD, most murders were solved within the first forty-eight hours of discovery, so we'd film the cops as they pulled together the evidence to try to solve the case. If they could do it in forty-eight hours, we had our story, if they couldn't we'd move on to the next case. We'd interview the good guys, the bad guys and hopefully end up with an hour's worth of television to entertain the masses.

The show was scheduled to begin production in the morning, so when my producer Lenny dialed my cell phone in the middle of the night, I was more than a little agitated.

"Sharpe, hi. I'm not waking you up, am I?" Lenny asked. Sharpe was actually my last name, but it was a name that stuck, and almost no one called me Victoria anymore.

"Actually..." I began, sounding groggy.

"Doesn't matter – we have an emergency. You've got the first murder, kid, so I need you to get over to Receda right away."

"Wait, what?" I looked at the clock. It was just after midnight. I had only been sleeping for half an hour. "Can't I handle this in the morning?"

"The morning? What are you going to do – recreate the murder scene? Get off your ass, Sharpe, and get out there. I already called the crew – they're meeting you at the site."

Lenny gave me the address, which I managed to jot down on a notepad before he hung up. I kicked my feet out of bed and sat up. My apartment was dark and relatively quiet save for the couple I could hear laughing in the hot tub in the courtyard below. I flicked on the lamp on my nightstand and breathed in.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. The fluorescent lighting never did much for my pale skin. As I looked at myself in the mirror my blonde hair looked green. My eyes had lovely purple bags under them, and their blue hue was overshadowed by redness. "Looking good, Victoria," I mumbled to myself and reached for my toothbrush.

Despite my exhaustion and sour mood, I was pretty excited about this show. When I was younger I'd actually fantasized about becoming a cop. I pictured myself with a smoking hot body and a fitted cop uniform hugging me in all the right places. I'd ride a motorcycle, of course, and when I'd remove my helmet to shake out my long blonde hair everyone would stop to watch. I would be known around the station as "one tough chick," and a night alone with me would be considered the stuff of kings.

It was a nice dream except that I wasn't a big fan of violence. The only fights I'd ever been in were with my sister, and those were just hair pulling and bra snapping. I couldn't picture myself getting angry enough to actually harm someone else – even if they did deserve it.

The other flaw in the plan was that the body I had envisioned in my pre-pubescent years hadn't quite materialized. I had the blonde hair, but it was mid-length and usually looked like a disaster. As for my perfect figure, my breasts probably protruded about as much as my stomach did, which meant they were too small and my waist line was too big. I decided that this was not the time to dwell on my shortcomings - I needed to get dressed.

I didn't know what the temperature was outside, so I opened my bedroom window and breathed in the smog-filled air. My apartment was located right next to the 134 Freeway in North Hollywood in the San Fernando Valley. The "Valley" got its name because it was a low lying area between the surrounding canyons. The geography allowed it to act as a retention hole for all the smog and pollution coming off the freeways. As a result, my sky was perpetually yellow, and every morning I would have to listen to weather forecast to determine whether or not I could breathe that day. One of the other joys of living in the Valley was that the hot air got stuck in the "pit" so our temperature was always about twenty degrees hotter than it was everywhere else. When it was a perfect eighty degrees in Venice Beach, the Valley was baking at a sweltering one hundred. At this early hour it still felt pretty cool, so I threw on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. I put my hair back in a ponytail and headed out the door.

Two minutes later, I was in my 1992 Miata cruising down the 134 freeway. I had bought the car used and was later informed by my mechanic that it had alignment problems that couldn't be fixed. If I didn't grip the wheel with two hands, it would veer off the road. I learned that lesson the hard way after taking my hand off the wheel to apply mascara and ending up on a woman's lawn. Yet, despite its faults, it was a convertible and I loved it.

As the cool night air blew through my hair, I picked up the phone and dialed Mac, my camera man.

"Hey, stranger." Mac answered.

"Can you believe this?" I said into the phone, fighting to be heard over the wind. "It's one in the morning. We haven't even met the detectives we're working with and they're sending us out to shoot a crime scene?"

"You know how it is, Sharpe – we just have to document it. We can't control when it happens."

"Come on, Mac, don't get smart with me. This is bullshit, right?"

"Okay, okay, it's bullshit. Where are you?"

"Ten minutes away." I said.

"I'll be there in five." Mac said.

Mac's real name was Hank, but we called him Mac because he was a real-life MacGyver. No matter how hopeless things may have seemed, Mac was forever pulling some magic tool out of his pocket to save the day. Once, Mac and I were in Texas in a swamp in the middle of nowhere and the camera kept fogging up from the extreme heat. We were on a time crunch and losing light, but Mac saved the day when he whipped out a hairdryer and battery pack and used it to defog the lens. Then there was the time in Vegas when we were following a couple embarrassed by public affection who would only kiss underwater in the hotel pool. We needed a kiss on tape as it was an essential element of the show so Mac put together a watertight camera case made out of garbage bags and plastic drink cups. Needless to say, we got the shot. Mac was a good guy to have in your corner, and given that we were getting thrown into this headfirst, I was going to have to lean on him for help.

I slowly drove down a residential street trying to find the house number Lenny had given me. I saw an unmarked yet very obvious cop car halfway down the street and Mac's car parked next to it. The house was a small one-story painted mint green. It had a carport with a beat-up Oldsmobile parked under it, and there was a cat rummaging through one of the trash cans. The exterior house light was on and cast a yellow hue on the already brown front lawn.

I took a deep breath and held it in. I needed to process what was really happening here. I was about to see a murder victim. Normally, I would have days of extensive interviews and conversations with the detectives that would give me a clear idea of what to expect. Instead, here I was – a deer in headlights about to see my first corpse. I felt like I was in a dream and wished I was. At least I'd be sleeping.

I heard a loud rapping against my window and jumped – letting out my breath in the process. I smiled once I realized it was Manny, my sound operator.

"Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?" Manny sang.

"Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?" I chimed in; trying to act like seeing my first dead body was just business as usual for me.

"Hey chica, how you been, baby?" Manny asked as he slapped me on the arm.

"Pretty good," I told him.

Manny was someone I had worked with quite a few times in the past. He was Hispanic and relatively short, but thick with muscles from constantly carrying boom microphones and heavy equipment. His legs were covered in tattoos, and he wore his long hair in a tight braid down his back. He was really mellow, probably because he was generally high, but he never complained when I worked him long hours so we got along well.

Mac walked up behind Manny dressed in his usual garb, which consisted of a beige safari shirt tucked into a pair of breakaway pants that could convert from pants to shorts with just the pull of a zipper. On his waist, he wore his trusty fanny pack filled with tools and gadgets, and on his head he wore a fishing hat with lens cleaner solution and wipes wedged in the band. His pockets were filled with a tape measure, a light meter, a mag light, and several pens. He also had a secondary fanny pack around his waist that contained sun block and a change of clothes. Most men would have looked ridiculous in this getup, but with his rugged good looks Mac managed to pull it off.

"Packing light?" I asked as I looked him up and down.

"The detectives are over there." Mac pointed. "They're getting anxious."

"Okay, I'll go talk to them while you guys get the equipment ready."

I turned toward the detectives' car and tried to psych myself up – it was time for me to flex my producer muscles. I'd been working in the business for a while now and I liked it, but deep down I knew I wasn't all that good. I'd actually landed in TV through my mother's connections. Evelyn Sharpe had been the host of _LA Incorporated_ for eleven years. It was a nightly show that came on just before prime time and featured all the latest Hollywood buzz and gossip. She'd met every star there was, had been a correspondent on every red carpet imaginable, and was absolutely stunning. She had actually gotten me my first job while she was interviewing the stars of a hot new reality show called _Lethal Injection_. The premise was that eight contestants were injected with poison, and they had to compete in challenges in order to win the antidote. I was hired on as an assistant to one of the producers. The show never made it to air because a contestant nearly died, but at least I got my foot in the door. Eventually I became an associate producer, then a segment producer, and slowly I worked my way up.

It was going to take a little acting on my part, but I needed to convince these cops that I knew what I was doing. I walked over to the Taurus, knocked gently on the window, and smiled. Inside, the two detectives said something to each other, then opened up their doors. They were both Caucasian, and I noticed that one was significantly _larger_ than the other.

Their names were Detectives Reid and Flanagan. Lenny had given me a rundown on each of them, but in my groggy state their names were all I managed to remember. Detective Reid was tall and fit with brown hair and angry creased eyebrows. Detective Flanagan was probably two hundred and fifty pounds, and if the name Flanagan hadn't tipped me off to the fact that he was Irish, his pale skin and strawberry blond hair certainly did. He was dressed in a wrinkled button-down shirt that came untucked as he stood up. Before he greeted me, he pushed his shirt down into his pants and adjusted his package at the same time.

"Victoria Sharpe." I said, reluctantly holding out my hand.

Flanagan shook it while Reid glared at me. "We've been waiting an hour for you to show up," he said.

"I'm sorry." I said, a little flustered. "We came as soon as we got the call."

"I don't want to hear excuses – let's go inside," Reid ordered.

"I'd like you to know that I am very excited to be working with you both," I said, still trying to make nice.

"Just shut up and let us run this, okay?" Reid said.

Whoa. I knew it was late but this guy was in a really bad mood. I would allow him a little leeway but not too much. He needed to know who was boss around here. "Sure, detective, we can go inside but not before you give me some background on what we're going to see in there," I warned.

"Gunshot victim. The neighbor heard the sounds, called us. She looked in the window and saw him on the floor – we already checked him – he's dead. Now let's go."

Mac and Manny came up behind me carrying their equipment, and we headed towards the house. I was starting to become convinced that this _was_ a dream. I was not used to, nor did I appreciate, having participants railroad me. This was my set, my shots, my show. I needed to get some control here.

At the front door I stopped and turned to Detective Reid. "We'll go in first."

"Like hell," he answered back.

"You've already been inside – there's no danger and I need my shot. We'll go in and secure an angle on the front door. When I give the okay I want you two to walk in and discover the body."

Reid started laughing. He looked at Manny. "Is she for real?" Manny shrugged. "Honey, we call the shots around here, okay? Not you," Reid barked.

This guy was starting to annoy me. I understood he was a big macho cop and the male ego was involved, but the fact of the matter was that _my_ ass was on the line to get the shot. I only had one chance to get this right, and I would be damned if he was gonna ruin it.

"Look, it's late. I don't want to sit here and argue – let's just get this over with." I turned to my crew. "Come on, guys – let's go."

I turned to the front door and twisted the knob.

"Stop!" Flanagan yelped. "There could be fingerprints on that knob, lady!"

I quickly pulled my hand off the knob. Everyone was staring at me. "Sorry," I said meekly. I pointed to Reid and Flanagan. "You two stay back and when I call you, come in. Try to look surprised – like you're discovering the body."

I pulled my sleeve over my hand and turned the knob. I stepped inside. Instantly I felt my feet give out, and before I knew what was happening, I was sliding across the floor. I looked down and was horrified - I was sliding in human blood! I felt my breath catch as I sailed across the room. I slammed against the opposite wall hard and fell face down on the floor. I lifted my head up to see the victim lying next to me. The back of his head was six inches from my face. I took in a deep breath and started choking on it. "Huuuhhh" was the only sound I could get out.

I scurried to get to my feet but kept slipping and flailing in the blood. "Somebody help me, please!" I finally got to my feet and sprinted towards the door and right into Detective Reid. I threw my arms around him, shaking. "He's after me! He's after me!" Obviously I had seen too many horror films, because I was certain the dead man was going to turn to me and sprout fangs.

Detective Reid pushed me off him and held my shoulders. "Get control of yourself!" he commanded. "You realize you just desecrated a crime scene, right?"

"I am covered head to toe in someone else's blood! Do you think I give a shit!?" I said, panic-stricken.

"Why didn't you tell us there was blood in here, man?" Manny asked Reid. He was a mellow guy, and his tone didn't carry to same impact as mine. Suddenly, Manny slipped and fell straight on his back into a pile of the red goo.

"¡Dios mio!" Manny called out, this time with more forcefulness.

Mac was still holding his camera, but with all that was going on he didn't know where to shoot. He was jerking the camera around in quick movements between me, Manny and the dead guy.

"Son of a bitch!" Manny cursed as he struggled to get to his feet.

I turned to Mac. "Shut off the camera, would you?"

Detective Reid still had his hands on my shoulders, and I think they were the only thing holding me up. He glanced calmly at the three of us, then turned to Flanagan.

"I'd give the guys a C – the chick gets a D minus."

"I'd give her a D plus. I mean she didn't puke, right?" Flanagan said, smiling.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

Flanagan suddenly burst out laughing. Reid smiled, and before he could help himself, he started laughing out loud too.

"How can you be laughing? There's a dead man in the corner!" I said, pointing to the victim. Suddenly the dead guy's eye snapped open, and he smiled.

"Jesus! He's alive – he's alive!" Manny announced.

"Holy cow!" I ran out the door with Manny following me. I was half way across the yard when I heard the din of laughter. I looked back to see Detective Flanagan doubled over, gasping for breath as he roared with laughter. Reid had his hand over his mouth, trying to choke back his chuckles. Mac was standing with the guys. He had put the camera down – finally getting the joke.

I turned back to them, furious. The dead guy was now standing next to Reid, also laughing. "You guys think this is funny?" I demanded.

"Consider this your hazing period." Flanagan mocked.

I was mad. They humiliated us, and now they were laughing about it. Not only that, I was wearing a new pair of jeans that I was going to have to throw in the trash. I felt my face getting red and hot. Reid walked up behind me and turned me around.

"Don't get all bent out of shape. We wanted to show you how things operate around here. We never thought you'd burst in there like that – that was just a bonus."

"You ruined my new jeans, you know."

Reid looked down at the blood stains on his shirt. "I think we're even."

Flanagan walked over to me. "Look, we just wanted to scare you a bit, let you know whose boss. I know you're used to calling the shots, but at a crime scene we're in charge. You can't just barge in there, honey, and you sure as hell can't tamper with evidence like that."

"You're a jerk. You both are." I told them. "Come on guys, let's go."

Manny turned to Flanagan. "Not cool man! Not cool!"

I charged towards my car with Mac and Manny following behind. I got inside and didn't look back. I would deal with this in the morning.

### Chapter 2.

It was only seven thirty in the morning and the temperature in the Valley had already reached ninety degrees. I skulked down to the parking garage beneath my building, exhausted and angry. My car didn't have AC, so I rolled down the convertible top and cruised at a cool seven miles per hour for the next ninety minutes. The 405 was more of a parking lot than a freeway, and the sweat dripping in my eyes and down my back wasn't helping my mood.

The production office was on the west side on LA, south of Venice Beach and north of Playa del Rey. Culver City was a bit of a landmark due to the fact that it was home to a large number of celebrity drug-related arrests including those of several A-list actors. The office was a loft-style building with cement floors and high ceilings. Near the entrance, there was a large metal staircase that led to the kitchen as well as the executive offices. The edit bays were lined up in a row on the ground floor on the right, and on the left were the producer cubicles. My cube was the second one in. I knew this because a production assistant had placed a piece of masking tape on the side of my desk with "Victoria Sharpe" written on it.

I dropped my bags and headed upstairs to Lenny's office. His door was closed, but I pushed it open and barged right in. I knew he was behind last night's prank and I planned to confront him.

Lenny was sitting at his desk looking much like a weasel. "Sure, Sharpe, come on in," he said, looking up.

"You set me up."

Lenny cracked a smile. "If I could have been a fly on that wall. The dead guy was a buddy of mine – he said you were covered in that goop. And Manny..."

"You are a despicable human being!" I said, cutting him off. "They think I'm an idiot now – you realize that right? They're never gonna take me to another crime scene again!"

"Sure they will. Now you're one of the guys. That's how they operate."

"I could have had a heart attack!"

Lenny laughed. Manny walked in behind me – obviously hearing the commotion. "Not cool boss," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh come on, guys, it was funny!" Lenny countered.

"I'm still waiting for an apology," I said.

Manny shook his head and repeated, "Not cool."

"Not cool, not cool. That's all you ever say, Manny!" I shouted. "You know what? You're both idiots!" I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room.

At the bottom of the steps, Mac walked up to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "Cool off, Sharpe, it was just a joke."

"Yeah, and I'm sure you weren't scared at all, right Mac? Not Mister Perfect!"

"Let me get you a coffee. We're all tired and caffeine will help." Mac headed up the stairs to the kitchen.

"Oh really?" I called after him. "I think my energy level is actually pretty high right now!"

*****

Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside in front of our rented SUV while Mac and Manny loaded it with equipment.

"Guys, I know last night was a little upsetting and we're on very little sleep," I began, "but I think we should just try to forget about it and move on."

Mac laughed as he threw a pile of extension cords into the trunk. "You're telling us to move on? We weren't the ones in Lenny's office trying to get fired."

"I wasn't trying to get fired; I just wanted him to know where to stick it."

"Well now he does." Manny said. "I guess I do too."

"Look this is weird now, okay? I mean the cops think we're morons – especially me. Plus they're right. I barged in there and could have destroyed key evidence. Lenny's an asshole, but that doesn't change the fact that I have a lot of work to do now to make things right." I knew the argument with Lenny was already water under the bridge; it was the cops I was worried about.

Mac and Manny checked their inventory while I read a brief bio on each of the detectives. Bradley Reid had worked in homicide for the past four years, while Flanagan only had two years in homicide. They were new partners and specialized in drug- and prostitution-related homicides. The bios contained a photo of each officer and neither looked too happy. There was no information on whether they were married, what their favorite pastimes were or what kind of upbringing they had. I would have to find out that stuff myself.

As I thumbed through the page and a half of literature, I felt someone standing behind me. I turned to see Missy, one of the other three producers. She was rod thin and had a stick-up-her ass attitude. We'd worked together before and though we usually acted cordial, we hated each other's guts.

"Missy, so nice to see you," I lied.

"Rough night, Victoria? I heard about your little mishap." She had a snotty sound to her voice and bobbed her head as she spoke.

"I'm sure you would have reacted the same way," I said.

"I doubt it. I've spent the last week doing research on dead bodies at the county morgue."

"I'm sure you fit right in with all those skeletons," I retorted. "Really Missy, you should eat something."

"You'll be eating crow when I deliver the premiere episode."

"Did Lenny promise you the premiere?" I asked.

"No, but I have no doubt that my story will be the most compelling – no matter what I end up with." She smirked.

"That sounds like a challenge."

"May the best woman win." Missy flipped her stringy hair over her shoulder, turned on her heel, and scampered off.

I turned to Mac, my teeth gritted. "Ughh!"

"Shake it off Sharpe. Don't let her get to you," he said, patting my shoulder.

Mac had proven to be a good friend to me over the years. We had always kept things platonic, except once. In production, when you're working on a show, it consumes your life. You work day and night with the same people in the same world and everything else fades into the background. You don't return phone calls, your family barely knows you're alive; you're just existing in a bubble. Crew members are notorious for hooking up because when you're with someone 24/7 you start to think there's a connection there. Mac and I had always flirted, and one drunken night we crossed that line. Nothing ever came of it and we didn't mention it again, but sometimes I wondered if he ever thought about it.

Mac was one of those perfect looking guys. He was tall and lean with light brown hair. His skin was always tanned from shooting outside, and he had some of the whitest teeth around. He had one of those movie-star chests too – the kind that the leading lady would lay on when they were having "pillow talk." He was thirty-five and still single, but that didn't surprise me. Perfect could be boring, and when you combined that with the fact that he tended to be a know-it-all, it made perfect sense. Still, when he smiled it put me at ease.

"Come on, let's go," Mac said and jumped in the front seat of out eight-passenger SUV. Manny opened the side door and sat in the middle row. I sat up front next to Mac.

Inside, the SUV had gray leather seats and the air conditioning felt wonderful. I loved AC and I didn't get to enjoy it nearly enough.

The SUV was equipped with a GPS, but Mac insisted on looking up the address of the police station the old-fashioned way – by map. He pulled out his guide and looked up the address. In a few minutes we were on our way.

As we drove, Mac pulled out a pocket-sized container of mace from his pocket and handed it to me.

"What's this for?" I asked, sliding it into my pocket.

"For protection – just in case. I don't want anything to happen to you."

I looked down at my meager jeans and t-shirt and suddenly felt naked without a gun strapped to my hip and a band of bullets draped over my shoulder.

"Isn't mace illegal?" I asked.

"Everybody has it, Sharpe, and you never know what kind of situation you could find yourself in."

"Thanks, MacGyver."

"Yeah, you might get kidnapped and held for ransom by some crazed killer," Manny chimed in from the back. "Or worse yet, maybe you have to go undercover in some gang where getting beat up is part of the initiation."

I turned around and glared at Manny.

"So whaddaya think we're gonna get?" Mac asked us. "Gunshot victim, strangling maybe?"

"I'm banking on a drowning," Manny answered. "One of those cases where the body is in the river but the lungs are dry."

"Oh yeah, or maybe the lungs have fresh water in them but they were found in the ocean," Mac said.

"Yeah, that'd be cool," Manny said.

"Stop trying to act so tough," I said to both of them. "Don't act like you weren't scared last night."

"I wasn't," Mac said.

I leaned in and looked at Mac. "Let me guess. That wasn't your first dead body, right?"

"There was one other," Mac said. "I was hiking and a guy got charged by a bear. His leg went right through this massive tree branch. He lived a little while, but not long."

"Oh God, come on!" I said, slapping Mac's shoulder. "You're making me sick."

Of course Mac would have seen a dead body. Why would I think otherwise? That was something that annoyed me about him – he had done it all and seen it all. If I saw a man impaled on a tree, I would have the willies for the rest of my life, but not Mac; he would just bank it in his vault of stories and play it when the time was right.

"Why are you always so sensitive?" Mac asked me.

"I'm not, I'm just tired of you acting like Mister Cool all the time. If you were sliding in someone else's blood you'd be scared too."

"I think you need to meditate," Mac said.

I threw up my hands. "Yeah Mac, that'll help."

"Knock it off, guys." Manny said. "You're making my head hurt. I'm taking a break." Manny jumped over the back seat and into the third row. I heard the window crack, and Mac and I both knew he was smoking up.

"How come he never offers us any?" Mac asked.

"Because we're squares," I said. "Well you're a square – I would probably embarrass myself on that stuff."

"Yeah, you definitely would." Mac laughed.

Mac weaved the SUV in and out of side roads. I would have taken the 405 and sat in traffic for two hours, but Mac seemed to know a shortcut. The roads were changing quickly as we moved from the West Side to the Valley. The houses were mostly beaten-up apartment complexes built in the 70s coated with stucco and slate roofs. The landscape was virtually nonexistent, as everything was brown and dead. The billboards went from English to almost exclusively Spanish in a matter of a few blocks. I had never learned Spanish, but Manny was fluent.

The closer we got to the station, the more twisted my nerves became. Mac placed his hand reassuringly on my leg. "It's gonna be fine."

"I know," I said quickly.

"Have you thought about how you're going to approach them?" he asked.

"No. All I can think about is payback for last night."

"How you gonna do it?" Mac asked.

"The edit," I answered. In my experience, if a contestant crossed me during a shoot, they would live to regret it. I'd done some of my best work making people look like fools. I could take the words "I hate" from one interview and combine them with "Justin" from another interview and voila – I had myself a villain. I could take the statement, "I would never have sex with a stranger" and edit out the _never_ to create "I would have sex with a stranger." Just that easily I could create a slut. If you've ever wondered why contestants aren't on camera for the majority of their sound bites – that's why. It was called a Franken-bite, and it was one of the most useful tricks in our trade.

Another tool in my arsenal was the ability to convince my participants to make fools of themselves. I had worked on a dating show a few years back, and the female contestant was a major prima donna. She would hold up production for hours because she was doing her hair or couldn't figure out what to wear. I decided that I needed to teach her a lesson, and luckily I had an easy solution. The man on the show she was paired with was not interested in her, but she really liked him. I told her that the guy had a huge crush on her but was too shy to act on it. I said that his fantasy was a woman wearing a Wonder Woman costume. I think it goes without saying that when I handed her the costume, she threw it on and promptly humiliated herself. The beauty of it all was that she didn't just embarrass herself in front of the guy; she embarrassed herself in front of all of America. I considered that to be one of my finest television moments. I was already thinking of creative ways to humiliate Detectives Reid and Flanagan when it came time to edit.

We pulled into the police station and parked our SUV in the lot. The station was mostly gray and metal with some windows in the front that were tinted so you couldn't see inside. There were several no-smoking signs in front and a bunch of people standing around smoking in front of them.

"Why don't you guys grab the equipment and I'll head inside," I said.

"Good luck," Mac said cheerfully.

*****

At the front desk, there was a cop standing behind an elevated counter top. The idea was to make me feel inferior by having to look up at him, but that wasn't necessary. I was intimidated even before I walked in the door.

"I'm here to see Bradley Reid and Dustin Flanagan. I'm with the show _Murder, Live!_ " I proclaimed.

The cop was big and burly and chuckled when I mentioned the show. "Oh yeah, you're the chick from last night. I heard you put on quite a show. Tell me, honey, did you get the shot?"

I smirked. "Just tell me where they are."

The cop picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Hey, big shot, your TV crew is here." He laughed at whatever the cop on the other line said and then hung up. "Go on back. Their desks are on the right – two back."

I pushed through some double doors into a messy, busy workroom. Black desks were pushed together, back-to-back in groups of two. There was a coffee machine in a hollowed-out alcove containing two filthy urns filled with brown sludge that I guessed was coffee. The lights were fluorescent, and along the side wall were three interview rooms where I assumed the cops would take potential suspects to question them. The floor was black and white tiled linoleum, and it appeared that the cleaning crew had been given the year off.

I walked inside and felt all the eyes in the room focus on me. There were probably eight men or so moving around the room and every one of them seemed to stop. I moved past the first set of desks and over to the second. Reid and Flanagan were both seated. Flanagan was dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a t-shirt, and his ass was spilling over the side of the chair. Reid was wearing a white undershirt and gray slacks and he had a dress shirt draped over the back of his chair. They didn't look up as I approached.

"Detectives, nice to see you again," I said.

A cop came up behind Reid. "Ooh Detective, can I have your autograph?"

Reid looked annoyed. "Shut up, asshole."

The cop turned to me. "Everyone around here is real excited about being movie stars."

"Uh-huh," I said, watching the cop walk away.

"In case you forgot," I said to Reid, "My name is Victoria Sharpe – but you can call me Sharpe if you want."

"Great," Reid said unenthusiastically. He turned to his computer screen and went back to whatever he was working on.

"I go by Foxy," Flanagan said.

"How'd you get that name?"

"Because I'm so damn good looking. You can see that I'm the good looking one here, right?"

"Oh yeah, right away. I have an eye for these things," I joked back, feeling better that at least one of them was talking to me.

Reid had not looked up from his computer, and I was getting the distinct impression that he didn't want me here. Typically, the people I worked with were thrilled to be on television for their fifteen minutes of fame. They were putty in my hands and so eager to please – but not this guy, he wasn't having it.

"Detective Reid, I'm sensing you're not happy about being on the show."

"Give the lady a dollar," Reid said, still not looking up.

"Considering what you put me through last night, I'd say we're both pretty unhappy to be here. Let's just try to get through it."

Reid grunted, still not looking up at me. "So I was thinking we would start the day with some on-camera interviews," I continued. "This way we can get to know you, maybe pick up some shots of the station, that sort of thing. How does that sound, guys?"

"Like shit," Reid said.

I felt a twinge of anger inside me. "You had another idea?"

"Yeah, I thought I would actually do my job instead of this pansy TV bullshit." He stood up from his desk and walked off.

I felt my blood boil and looked over at Flanagan. "Friendly guy."

"He's pissed because the captain made him do this. He's one of the best cops we've got, and they want to give the department a good image."

"Where is your captain?" I asked. "I'd love to meet him."

"Her," Flanagan corrected. "Back that way." He pointed and I headed to her office, ready to lay into her. They'd had their fun with me, now it was time to work.

*****

Captain Harris was basically what you'd expect. She was a little overweight with dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her face didn't have a scrap of makeup on it and she looked worn and tired. I looked in her eyes and tried to imagine everything they'd seen.

I sat across from her at her desk as she finished up a call. I regarded the gold wedding band on her meaty finger and wondered if she was the boss at home too. Captain Harris hung up the phone and held a hand out to me. "Captain Joan Harris."

"Victoria Sharpe," I said, shaking her hand.

"You getting settled in okay?" she asked. Her voice was gruff and masculine. "We didn't know if you would need a work space, but there's a spare desk out in the bullpen."

"Thanks, that would be great. My crew is bringing in the equipment now, so I'll let them know to leave everything by that desk. I hope you don't mind if we rig some of our cameras in the interview rooms. We would of course get the permission of the, uh...interviewees...before taping." I decided that saying "criminals" might be a mistake because of that innocent until proven guilty thing.

"That's fine. Lenny is an old friend, and he explained how everything would work."

"He is?" I asked. "Captain Harris, are you aware of the prank the team pulled on me last night?"

She leaned in and looked at me, straight faced. "Everyone is, honey."

"And you approve?"

"No, I don't. I think they took it a little too far."

Okay, that was more like it. I had my lead-in, so I decided to go for it. "I wanted to talk to you about Detective Reid. He doesn't seem to be on board with this project."

Captain Harris nodded. "Yeah, he's not thrilled about this, but he's a good cop, and that's what we need for this kind of thing."

"Right," I continued. "I was wondering if maybe you could talk to him about getting with the program. I didn't want to say anything, but he's been pretty combative."

Harris laughed. "Do I look like his mother? It was hard enough convincing him to do the show – the rest is up to you, honey."

"Yes, but as his captain..."

"This is not part of his job requirement, sweetie pie. This is a favor to me, and if you want a good show, you are just going to have to work with what you've got. We're cops, princess, not actors."

I was a little stunned. Here I thought I was going to get Detective Reid spoken to and instead I'd been handed my ass. These cops didn't mess around. I decided to drop it and stood up.

"Yes, understood. I will make it work." I said. "Thank you, Captain Harris – it was nice meeting you."

"Sure thing," she said in a chipper tone. "If you need anything, you just let me know."

*****

An hour later I was sitting face to face with Flanagan, preparing to conduct his on-camera interview. While Mac and Manny were setting up, I had gone next door to pick up a dozen donuts and a box of coffee. Flanagan had already eaten three of them, and he was in good spirits.

Flanagan was in an interview chair and I was sitting next to the camera, my head positioned next to the lens so that the detective would appear to be talking to camera rather than to me. Mac had lit the scene beautifully. Flanagan was in the foreground with the interrogation room behind him. He was placed twelve feet away from the wall so that the background would go into soft focus. Mac had positioned a grouping of three items behind him on a table for ambience – some case files, a pair of handcuffs and a flashlight. In television interviews we always used the rule of three – the perfect number of objects to keep a shot interesting, but not overcrowded. The lighting was harsh, giving the scene an old movie vibe, and Flanagan, a.k.a. Foxy, was actually looking pretty damn tough. I instructed him to take the questions I asked him and rephrase them into his answer.

"When I ask 'How did you get here today?' you say 'I got here today by x' – get it?" I explained.

Flanagan nodded, and I asked Mac to roll the camera. Mac glanced at Manny, who was sitting on a wooden box called an apple crate, and Manny gave him the thumbs-up, indicating that sound was ready.

"So, Detective Flanagan, how long have you been a cop?" I asked.

"Call me Foxy, okay?" he said.

"Okay," I answered.

"Ten years," Foxy said.

"Remember to incorporate my question into your answer, Detective...I mean, Foxy."

"Oh, right," he said. "I've been a cop for ten years and a detective for two."

"Great," I said. "What made you want to become a detective?"

"The women." Foxy smiled. I shook my head at him. "Oh, right," he corrected. "I decided to become a detective for the women." He grinned, proud of himself.

We went back and forth for a while, and I found out that Foxy had a wife and two kids. He was married right out of the police academy to the girl next door – literally. They had known each other their whole lives and had dated since they were in junior high. His wife was named Sherry, and she loved cherry pie and sherry wine. Foxy was a cop for the same reason lots of people were cops – because his dad was a cop and his dad's dad was a cop. He didn't love the physical aspects of the job, so he pursued detective work because it was more his speed. He liked talking to people, finding out their stories, and putting together the pieces to solve cases. He also said his wife slept better at night knowing he wasn't out patrolling the streets and risking getting shot in the process. Sure, there was still danger in detective work, but far less.

"Tell me about your partner," I said.

"Bradley Reid," Foxy said dramatically. "The dude's got one of those Hollywood names like his parents thought he'd be a movie star. I got some pretty good mileage out of that one."

"Okay, Dustin," I joked.

"Hey, don't speak that name and don't put it on the screen when you show me either. My parents were crazy too. You can put "Foxy Flanagan" on the screen – now that's entertainment!"

I laughed. "So you like working with Detective Reid, then?"

"He's okay. He's quiet, but that's his deal. It's better like that anyway – no one to interrupt me when I'm talking."

I was learning that Foxy was a joker and a prankster too, and I was pretty sure he was last night's puppet master.

By the end of the interview, I decided that Foxy was a good guy. He would be an easy character to create for the show: an honest man trying to keep the streets clean for his wife and kids. Easy as cherry pie.

Mac and Manny prepared the next setup, and I went to find Detective Reid to try to convince him to talk to me on camera. I found him at his desk with his head buried in a case file.

"Anything good?" I asked, smiling.

Reid glared up at me, then pulled out a crime scene photo of a man who had his throat slit and tossed it in front of me. "Yeah, real cool stuff," he said bitterly.

My face turned white at the sight of the picture. Foxy quickly scooped it up and handed it back to Reid. "What's the matter with you? That's a real person you're throwing around."

Reid shook his head and placed the picture back in the file.

"Mac is prepping the next setup. Would you be free for an interview in like thirty minutes?" I asked him.

Reid ignored me and kept reading.

"Detective Reid? Did you hear me?"

He looked up, anger in his eyes. "Yeah, I heard you, honey. I just don't care what you have to say. Like I said earlier, I am doing real work here, and your presence is starting to irritate me."

I was about to speak when Foxy held up a hand. "Can you excuse us, Victoria?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Sure." I walked away and watched the two of them talk. This was embarrassing. This was my set and this jerk-off was running all over me. I was going to lose the respect of everyone if I didn't get things turned my way. I watched Foxy as he presumably tried to reason with Reid while Reid just got madder and madder. Finally, Reid pointed a finger to Foxy and said something, then walked out of the room and out the front door.

Foxy looked at me and shrugged. I knew I had to take control here. I put on a stern face and marched outside.

Out front, I scanned the parking lot and saw Reid sitting on the hood of a charcoal grey Mustang. His choice of car didn't surprise me; the only thing that did surprise me was that it wasn't bright red.

"Detective Reid," I called out. He looked at me, then turned away and lit a cigarette. I approached him, hot and bothered. "Look, I get that you're this tough guy and everything, but we've got to find a way to work together on this."

Reid stared at me. I could tell he was seething inside, but I pressed on. I had to do it now while I still had the courage. Besides, we were alone out here so if he punched me or embarrassed me in some way no one would see it. "I am not here to screw up your work; I'm just here to document how you do it. You have a job to do and so do I."

"Ha, some job." Reid laughed blowing out some cigarette smoke.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess my career isn't good enough for you, right? No one can be as great as the almighty Detective Bradley Reid."

"Glad we've come to an understanding."

"Why don't you get over yourself? If you're such an amazing detective why don't you put your money where your mouth is and show me? I don't know you from Adam, buddy, and if you want me to earn your respect, you're going to have to earn mine too."

Reid stared at me for a moment then started clapping slowly and obnoxiously. "Wow, great speech." He let out another puff of smoke in my general direction. It sent me over the edge.

"What an asshole you are!" I blurted out. "You're like one of those bullies in high school that always has to act like Mister Cool. Well nobody is impressed, you know – I mean, grow up, for God's sake!"

Reid stopped clapping. "And name calling is mature, right?"

"Okay so maybe I shouldn't have called you that – but guess what? If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's probably a duck!"

Reid cracked a smile. "Okay, so I'm a duck and what animal are you? Rhymes with...hitch."

"Don't get smart with me." I said. "I am determined, that's what I am." I paused and took a breath. "Look, we just have to do some initial interviews to get some background on you and the department, but after that I will try my best to stay out of your way. Can you handle that... _Brad_?"

"Don't call me that, _Vicky_."

"Fine I'll call you Reid and you call me Sharpe."

Reid sized me up. "You're pretty proud of yourself, huh? You think you made some real headway with me don't you?"

"You're speaking to me and that's a start."

### Chapter 3.

Reid had finally agreed to let me interview him, but only when he had a break in his work schedule. While we waited, I asked Manny and Mac to get to work rigging hidden cameras and audio equipment. First, they installed a tiny camera in the rear view mirror of Foxy and Reid's black Taurus. The shot would capture the two cops and would also pick up the person seated behind the passenger. The seat behind the driver would not be seen – that was where I planned to be sitting. My role was to sit in the back to make sure the detectives were having meaningful conversations while on-camera.

Next, Foxy led us over to the interview rooms. The doors were beaten up and old, and each had a reversible sign that read either "Interview in Progress" or "Available". We stepped inside the first room, which consisted of a metal table and two metal chairs. There was an ashtray on the table and a wastebasket on the floor. I had expected the room to be filled with smoke and pitch black except for a lone light bulb swinging above the table casting harsh shadows. The cigarette smell was there and was pretty gross actually, but beyond that it was just a normal room with fluorescent lighting. There was, however, a piece of two-way glass in the wall which was pretty cool.

The center interview room was not actually an interview room at all, but a control room where detectives could sit and watch the interrogations going on surrounding them. The room contained some basic audio recording equipment and a primitive video camera.

"This thing record on DAT?" Mac joked as he looked at the audio deck.

"That's camera humor, right?" Foxy asked. "I don't get it."

"It's okay, man," Manny reassured him.

Mac and Manny got to work placing a microphone in the ceiling and putting more professional-grade equipment in the control room.

We picked up some more shots of the exterior of the station, the work room and so on; it was always good to have some cutaway shots. As the sun began to set I sent the guys outside again to get some exterior shots of the "magic hour" when the light was orange and glowing. These types of shots were always handy in editing day to night transitions.

It was five o'clock before Reid made himself available to us. I planned to drag the interview out as long as I possibly could just to torture him. Anyone who wanted to learn how to be passive aggressive could take some lessons from me.

He sat in front of the camera with an annoyed expression on his face. I had gotten him in the chair, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. I was sitting across from him with Mac next to me and Manny sitting off to the side with his legs crossed. We were trying our best not to make him feel put on the spot, but in an interview that isn't easy.

"Okay," I began, "remember what I told you about incorporating my question into your answer?"

Reid nodded. "Let's just get this shit over with, okay?"

"Okay. Mac, roll camera." Mac began rolling and I glanced at Manny who nodded that he was ready too. "Let's start with an easy one. Can you tell me your name and how long you've been a detective?" I asked.

Reid smirked. "My name is Detective Bradley Reid. I've been working homicide for the past four years."

"Great," I said. "You're a pro. Now tell me about your background – where did you grow up?"

"No," Reid answered.

"Huh?" I asked.

"I don't want to answer that, next question."

I stared at Reid, perplexed. It wasn't like I asked him when he lost his virginity. "Uh, okay. Can you tell me why you wanted to become a detective?"

"My older brother and I used to play cops and robbers when we were kids. He would always play the cop, and I was the robber. When he'd catch me he'd beat me up. It didn't hurt, but it was humiliating. So growing up, I always wanted to be the good guy and now I am."

I liked his answer but couldn't resist the urge to take a jab at him. "So you became a cop so you could beat up robbers?" I asked.

"We done yet?" Reid asked, not amused.

"Not yet. Tell me about the types of cases you handle."

"Right now I've got three homicides I'm working. Two gang-related shootings and a whore who got carved up by a customer who didn't want to pay. That's usually the type of shit we get in here."

"Be careful with that language, okay?" I said. "Tell me your percentage of solved cases verses unsolved."

"I don't keep a score card, honey." He snapped but then thought a minute. "Look, in LA, there are an average of three homicides a day. It may not sound like much, but it adds up. We do what we can. We try to treat each victim as a victim regardless of their background or their income. It's a numbers game, and it's hard to keep up. There are a lot of wackos out there, we do our best."

"What kind of cases are the hardest to crack?"

"White collar cases can be hard, but we don't get too many of those around here. Druggies or hookers can be tough because no one wants to talk to us. But once we have an idea that someone knows something, we can lean on them with their priors – that usually works."

"Are you married?"

"Ask me another personal question and we're done here," Reid answered.

I looked at Manny, who just shrugged. "Okay, no personal questions." I said. "What do you love about your job?"

Reid's face lit up just a little bit. "I love cracking the case. It's like a puzzle and it's a rush when all the pieces come together."

"And what do you hate?"

"I hate telling the families of the victims that their loved one is dead. That never gets easy. It's usually best to just say it quick and get it over with, but every reaction is different, you just never know what to expect."

Reid and I continued back and forth for a while longer, but I decided not to put him through the full roster of seventy-five questions I had prepared. He was cooperating, so I would too.

After we finished the interview, Reid stood up and Manny removed his mic. "You're a natural," I said.

"I felt like a dickhead the whole time." Reid said.

"So now we just wait for someone to die, right?" I said.

Reid's expression dropped, and I felt my stomach turn. Just when he and I were starting to make a breakthrough, I said something stupid and ruined everything.

"Sorry, that came out wrong."

Reid grunted and walked back to his desk. I followed him and addressed him and Foxy.

"Well, guys, that was a great first day. Me and the crew were thinking about going to a bar. Can I buy you guys a beer?" I asked, smiling.

Foxy looked up. "Beer?"

"Yeah, can I take you guys out tonight? It might be fun for us to all get to know each other."

I could see Reid shaking his head 'no' but Foxy stepped in. "Sure, we would love to, right, Detective?"

Reid glared at Foxy. "I can't – I have to get through these files."

"Oh, come on, you've had your face buried in that file all day." I said. "They'll still be there tomorrow."

Reid hesitated then finally relented. "One drink."

*****

Mac drove as we followed Foxy's truck a few miles down the road to an Irish Pub. Foxy pulled into the lot of O'Malley's and parked. There were a number of squad cars in the lot and I figured this was probably a popular police hangout. I was flattered that they would take us here, especially because some of their buddies would likely be around.

Foxy waved at the bartender, who was an older man with white hair and a large gut. We walked over to a table for six and Foxy pulled out a chair. The chairs had arms on both sides, and Foxy had to shuffle his ass back and forth to get comfortable.

"They feed you grease burgers and lard fries and expect you to fit into these tiny chairs," he said to me as I sat down.

Reid sat down and grabbed a menu. I grabbed one too. "I'm starving – does anyone want to get some food? I could get some appetizers for the table," I offered. Everyone agreed, so I ordered one of everything plus a round of beers.

A football game was on television, and within a matter of minutes, all four men were entranced at the sight of other men slamming into each other and fighting over a ball. Our drinks arrived along with a ton of appetizers. I had gone a little overboard on the food, but it was the production's money so I didn't give it another thought. I picked up my beer and gave it a large swig.

"Am I gonna have to pull you over for a DUI later?" Reid asked me.

"You would, too," I said, glaring at him.

Reid ate a few hot wings and pieces of celery and then got up and walked over to the dart board. I watched him shoot a round alone while stuffing my face with cheese fries and mozzarella sticks. Finally, when I had my share, I stood up and walked over to him. "Can I play?" I asked.

"Honey, you're like a bad penny." Reid said.

"Sharpe – right? You're going to call me Sharpe, not honey, right?"

"Right." Reid said, handing me some darts. I stood in front of the board and practiced my aim.

"Today, _Sharpe_ ," Reid said.

I took my aim, threw my dart, and it landed right in the bull's eye. "Ha! Eat that, sucker!" I told Reid.

He grinned slightly and then took aim with his dart. Of course he got the bull's eye too.

"You know, if we were on a date, you would be expected to lose this round," I said.

"Luckily we're not."

This guy was a barrel of laughs. I should have left him alone but my curiosity was killing me – I had to ask about his background.

"So, why wouldn't you talk about your family today?"

Reid started at me. "You just won't take no for an answer, will you? I said that conversation was off limits."

"You said it was off limits on camera – this is off camera and I'm just making small talk."

Reid looked up and spoke solemnly. "Fine, you want to know, I'll tell you. I was born a crack baby. My mom was always strung out on the stuff and would do anything she could to get the cash. Men used to line up at the door to screw her. It was fifty bucks a pop and my dad collected the money. Sometimes women came over and she would sell me and my brother off to them too."

My eyes started bulging out of my head as I listened. I couldn't believe I had just made him tell me this. "Whoa, I am so sorry, I didn't realize..."

Reid started laughing.

"Wait a minute - are you just messing with me?" I asked.

"You are so easy!" Reid laughed.

"You really have a warped sense of humor, you know that?"

Reid was still laughing. "Just trying to give you a good story for your TV show."

I was really put off. "Yeah, whatever." I threw a dart at the board with such force that it bounced off.

Reid touched my arm and turned me towards him. "Look, the truth is, I was born and raised in Malibu. Growing up, I was surrounded by celebrities and wealth."

"You're being serious now, right?" I asked.

Reid nodded and continued. "Both my parents are top talent agents and are loaded out the ass. They tried to get me into acting – hence the name Bradley Reid – but I wasn't into it. I don't like the guys at the station to know I have money because I want to be treated as one of them. You understand?"

I nodded. "Wait, is your dad Rex Reid?"

Reid frowned. "Please don't tell me you're an aspiring actress."

"No he's my mom's agent. Evelyn Sharpe – the former host of _LA Incorporated_."

"No shit – that's your mom?"

"Yeah, small world. Look, my mom's not exactly thrilled with my choice of professions either. She wanted me in front of the camera too. Don't worry, I'll keep your secret."

Reid gave me a half smile, then went back to shooting darts.

Foxy walked up behind us and regarded me. "You're cool with seeing dead bodies now? I mean, you're not going to freak out again, right?"

I sighed deeply and dramatically. "That's right, Foxy. I got it out of my system."

"Good, because you're about to get a second chance." He turned to Reid. "Hit-and-run – one-sixteen Lankershim. Neighbor called it in. Victim is lying in the street."

Mac and Manny came up behind Foxy having already heard the news while Reid sprang into action. "Okay, Foxy and Sharpe, you two come with me. Mac – you and Manny can follow us in your car. Let's go!"

Reid was so authoritative as he drummed out orders. I felt like he was a drill sergeant and I was in the Marines. At the same time, his forcefulness was kind of sexy. I snapped to attention, grabbing my purse and running out to the SUV. I grabbed the PD-150, a small video camera that I could use as a second angle that would help in editing. It would also be good to capture anything that I might witness before Mac arrived.

Mac and Manny readied their equipment, then jumped in the SUV while I got in the backseat of the Taurus.

I checked to make sure that the camera mounted in the rearview mirror was turned on, and then I threw out some questions to the guys. "Do you know anything about the victim?" I asked.

As expected, Reid ignored me and pulled the car out of the lot. Luckily, Foxy addressed my question. "We don't know his name yet. He was described as a Caucasian male, estimated to be twenty-five years old."

I gulped. "Only twenty-five?" It seemed so young to die.

Foxy turned around and looked at me. "This could be pretty gruesome – you can handle this, right?"

"Right," I answered with a little more confidence than I felt. The truth was, I was scared. I knew I couldn't mess with these guys too much – this was their show, and I was just an observer. "I didn't capture you receiving the call from dispatch on camera so maybe tomorrow we can reenact that in the office. Would that be okay?" I asked.

Foxy smiled at me. "Let's just see how this pans out, Sharpe."

We pulled up in front of a beat-up house in Van Nuys. Yellow caution tape was stretched across the street, and there were several cops already on the scene. It was hard to see with all the people milling about, but I assumed they were standing around the body. As I surveyed the scene, I knew this time wasn't make-believe - this was the real thing. I felt a small sense of comfort being with these two burly cops. They would protect me.

Reid and Foxy stepped out of the car, and I followed after them. Mac and Manny came running up behind me carrying their equipment.

"Reid?" I called. "Hold on, please, we have to mic you up."

He turned and gave me an icy glare, but he waited. Manny placed the transmitter inside the back of Reid's pants and threaded the microphone up his shirt and clipped it to his collar. He got Foxy ready next.

Manny pushed some buttons on his sound deck while Mac threw the camera up over his shoulder. "Speed!" Mac announced and the cops took off. I let Manny and Mac cross in front of me and followed behind them. In all the excitement I had forgotten my little PD-150 camera – but there wasn't time to get it now. Besides, I wasn't a cameraman. I was a producer, and that was what I planned to do.

Reid and Foxy walked up to the caution tape and ducked under it. They walked calmly and confidently, prepared to take over the crime scene. We followed behind them closely. Reid walked up to a cop who was standing near the body. I pulled a spare set of headphones from Manny's sound pack and plugged them in so I could hear exactly what the microphone was picking up. I nudged Manny to get his boom microphone closer to the action.

"Detective Reid, homicide," Reid said to the cop by way of introduction. "You the first on the scene?"

The cop was a little scrawny guy and looked like he was fresh out of the police academy.

"Yeah." He looked at the camera. "Am I on TV?"

"If you'd like to be," I said, jumping forward. "We're filming a new show for channel six-twelve. Can I have your permission to use your name and likeness?"

"Sharpe, I thought you were gonna stay out of the way," Reid interrupted.

"I am, but I need to get him released." I pulled a release form out of my pocket and handed it to the cop, smiling. "Just sign at the bottom."

The cop scanned the words quickly and then looked up at me. "Do I have to?"

"Oh no, of course not," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "But I would really appreciate it." I was pretty good at flirting with men I didn't find attractive, it was the good looking ones that made me nervous.

"I guess it's okay," the cop said and signed.

"Great, now just act like we're not here." I took the release and turned to Reid. "Please continue."

"Oh, thank you so much." Reid said sarcastically. He turned to the cop. "What's your name, kid?"

"Anderson." He held out a hand and they shook.

"Detective Flanagan," Foxy said ,and also shook the cop's hand. "Tell us what happened."

"We got a call from the neighbor. She heard some tires screech and she looked outside to see this guy lying on the ground. His name is Jonathan Walters," Anderson explained.

As he said it, I looked down at the body. In all the rush to get my shots and release forms this was the first time I was actually looking at him. The victim, Jonathan, was laying face down and the back of his head was facing me. I was grateful that I didn't have a head-on shot because that wouldn't work for TV, plus it would likely gross me out. He was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. One of his sneakers had been knocked off his foot and I spotted it half way down the road with an evidence marker next to it. There was some blood on the pavement, and his hands were ripped up and torn like he had been dragged across the road. I felt my breath catch; it wasn't fair that he met his end like this. Next to him, a medical examiner was kneeling down, going through his wallet.

I nudged Mac to get a shot of the body – I needed some cutaways.

"Where's the neighbor?" Foxy asked the young cop.

Anderson pointed to an old Chinese woman who was sitting on the front step of the house. "That's the victim's house – she lives next door."

"We talking hit-and-run here?" Reid asked.

"Looks that way – he was on foot. I checked with the neighbor to see if he had a dog or something, but he didn't. Maybe he was out for a run."

I looked at the victim. No one would take a run in those baggy jeans – they'd trip.

"Okay, thanks, Anderson, we'll take it from here," Reid said.

Anderson looked relieved and gave a weak smile before turning and walking away.

Reid placed a hand on the medical examiner's back. "Don't go anywhere, Lou – I want to talk to you."

"Sure, Reid, let me just touch up my hair and makeup," Lou joked, smoothing out his short hair.

Reid laughed and we all headed over to the front steps to talk to the neighbor. She was sitting on the front step wearing one of those unflattering floral house dresses and a pair of fuzzy slippers.

"Do you speak English, ma'am?" Reid asked.

"What you think? I American," the woman answered in a Chinese accent. She was annoyed and frazzled by the accident.

"My name is Detective Reid and this is Detective Flanagan. What is your name?"

"Wilma. Who is she? Who are they?" She pointed to me and the crew.

"Here we go again," Reid said throwing up his hands.

"Oh hi, we're filming a TV show," I answered, smiling. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to ask you to sign this piece of paper which grants us the right to use your name and likeness in connection with the show." I handed her a release.

She looked at it blankly. "I don't want to be on TV."

"Sure you do – everyone does. You are a key witness in cracking this case and we would love to spotlight you as a hero. Would that be okay?"

Wilma looked unsure. I pressed on. "Come on, let's show America what a great citizen you are! Let's show them how important it is for people to work with the police and help them to solve crimes. I mean, talk about the American dream, Wilma." I could feel Detective Reid's eyes staring at me, but I didn't care. I needed her to sign the release.

"Well, I guess it's okay," she said. I pulled out a pen and had her sign the document.

Reid looked at me. "Can we get on with it now?"

I nodded and the detectives turned their attention back to Wilma. Manny gave me a thumbs-up and winked.

"Tell us what you saw tonight," Reid continued.

"I watching the news and I hear a loud sound – like tires burning rubber. Then I hear a noise like – boom!" she said and clapped her hands together. "I old so I no get up so fast but when I do I saw him lying in the street."

"Did you see the car that hit Mr. Walters?" Foxy asked.

"No it was too fast. I no see. I run out to see if he okay, but he was all scratched up and not breathing."

"Did he normally take walks at night?" Reid asked.

"I don't think so – he has car. His girlfriend always coming over and they play the music so loud and never mow the lawn."

"How long have you known Mr. Walters?"

"He's been here, uh, seven months – but we are no friends – I barely see him. He is mostly up at night. I go to bed early – I am old."

"Was he home at all tonight, do you know?" Reid asked.

"He was home – I took out my garbage and his light was on."

"And what time was that?" Reid asked.

"Maybe five thirty," Wilma answered.

"And did you hear him leave the house at all?"

"I don't know – I didn't hear."

"What time was it when you heard the crash outside?" Foxy asked. He had pulled out a little mini notebook and was jotting down her responses.

"Um, it was the end of the six o'clock news."

"Do you know if he had any enemies?" Foxy asked.

"No I don't know him like that," she responded.

"And you didn't see the car at all, right?" Reid asked.

"No I don't see so good."

"Okay Wilma thank you – you've been a great help. If you think of anything that you forgot to tell us, here is my card." Reid handed her his card.

"I go now?" Wilma asked.

"Yes that would be fine. Can you write down your phone number in case I have any more questions?" Reid asked.

She wrote down her number, then got up and walked away.

Reid and Foxy headed back over to the medical examiner. I was still wearing my headset and felt my head yanked sideways as Manny followed the cops. "Pay attention," Manny whispered.

"So what do we got?" Reid asked the ME.

Lou looked at the camera, then me. "What's this all about? Who's the broad?"

"Just forget about her. Harris got me signed up for this bullshit TV show – like I have nothing better to do."

"We're going to be mooovie stars," Foxy chimed in.

I popped my head in and addressed Lou. "Hi, Lou, right? If I could just ask you to sign this release before we go any further? It just grants us the right to film you. Don't worry – your involvement will be kept to a minimum as I assume that is your preference."

Lou looked at me and then Reid. "She's perky."

"She's my cross to bear," Reid answered. "Just sign it – it's cool."

Lou signed and handed me the paperwork.

"Take two!" Foxy joked. "And action on you Reid."

Reid tried to ignore Foxy and addressed Lou. "So what've we got? Bunch of dead ends?"

"Pretty much," Lou said. "Looks like a straight hit-and-run. His wounds are consistent with being hit by a car – probably at a pretty high speed. It was a car, not a truck or SUV or anything. There's some tire marks down the road that I am going to have analyzed. Looks like the driver sped up when he saw him."

"So the guy was being watched," Reid said.

"Maybe," Lou answered. "I also found paint chips on his skin – some black, some dark yellow. So either the driver was driving a car that had junkyard parts or it was detailed – like a sports car or something."

"Okay, what else?" Reid asked.

"That's basically it. He died on impact so he didn't suffer much. He had his cell phone on him and his wallet."

"Can I see the wallet?" Foxy asked. He pulled on a latex glove and opened the wallet. Foxy pulled out his note pad and wrote down the victim's name and driver's license number. Mac leaned in to get a close-up of the wallet, but there were no personal photos inside, just his license, a bank card, a stack of money and three condoms. Three condoms seemed like a lot to me, but maybe the guy was an optimist. Foxy pulled out the money and counted it.

"Four hundred eighty-six dollars. That's a lot of cash." Foxy returned the wallet to Lou and pulled the victim's cell phone out of his pocket. Foxy scrolled through the contacts on the phone as well as the calls received and placed. Meanwhile, my curiosity was getting the better of me, so I stepped around the body of the victim in order to get a view of his face.

As it came into view my excitement turned to horror. Large pieces of flesh were torn off and the bloody muscle exposed underneath was covered in asphalt. One of his eyes was open and touching the ground. The eyeball was pulled at an angle down towards the street and it looked like the eyelid had ripped off while he was sliding across the pavement. Looking at that eyeball, I instantly became sick and vomited right there on the floor. Luckily, I had the good sense to turn away so as not to get vomit on the victim.

"Jesus!" Reid yelled. "Are you trying to desecrate another crime scene?"

I looked at him helplessly, then turned and vomited again. I stepped away to get the victim out of my sight. Otherwise, I might be vomiting all night.

"Thanks a lot, idiot! Now I get to smell your stomach acid for the next two hours," Lou snapped.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely.

Foxy handed Lou the phone. "When you're done with this, I want it, okay?" Lou nodded.

"Have you been in the house yet?" Foxy asked.

"Not yet but my guys are in there. Don't touch anything, okay? Especially her," he said, pointing to me.

"We'll be careful," Foxy said.

Foxy and Reid headed towards the house with Manny in tow. Mac stopped the camera and turned to me. "You okay, Sharpe?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, wiping my mouth.

Mac pulled a breath mint out of his fanny pack and handed it to me. "Next time you might want to improve your aim."

I looked down at my t-shirt and saw the streak of vomit across my chest. "Great, that's just great," I said.

Mac pulled out a Wet Wipe and I quickly cleaned my shirt off as best as I could, then ran towards the house.

I stepped inside the house, careful not to touch anything. I hadn't exactly proved my competence thus far, and I didn't want to screw things up any further. The front door led into a white living room with bare walls. It was sparsely furnished with a brown velour couch, a halogen lamp in the corner, a glass coffee table and, of course, an enormous flat screen TV. There were a bunch of car racing magazines on the floor and an empty beer bottle on the coffee table.

There was another medical examiner in this room, and Reid and Foxy were exchanging pleasantries with him. Mac was panning around the room with his camera, getting all the angles. Reid and Foxy moved into the bedroom with the crew and me following after them.

The bedroom was much the same as the living room: white walls plus a huge NASCAR poster hanging above the bed. The furniture in this room was actually pretty high-end. He had a nice black metal bed frame and some matching industrial side tables. This room had another big screen television and there was a neon sign on top of the TV that said "Formula 500". I guessed with three condoms in his wallet this was the room Jonathan probably spent most of his time in.

Reid pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and looked over at me. "Don't touch anything."

On top of the dresser there was a napkin that said _Rose – Cell._ It listed a phone number, which Foxy jotted down. Next, he opened the side table drawer and examined the contents. I had a vision of him pulling out a journal that would reveal everything, but I knew that was silly. This could be a simple hit-and-run with no motive and no witnesses. In short, snoozeville for my viewers. Foxy pulled from the dresser a bag of weed and some rolling papers. He also found a pocket knife and a pack of cigarettes. "This guy liked to party," he said.

Manny's eyes lit up. "Hey man – you mind if I grab some of that?"

Foxy just ignored him while I gave Manny my death stare. Still, I was excited that Foxy found the pot – maybe this case was getting interesting.

Reid looked in the closet and didn't find anything special, just some clothes – mostly black and some boots. For having lived there for seven months, I didn't think the guy had accumulated much. Maybe it's different for girls, but my closet would have been spilling over with clothes and shoes and purses. The victim, Jonathan, didn't seem to have had too much.

"Doesn't look like he had a house phone – just the cell," Reid said. He turned on the television – it was set to sports. Reid paused a little while watching the football updates.

"Can you turn that off, please?" I asked. "We can't get the licensing rights, you know."

Reid nodded and turned off the TV. "Let's check out the bathroom."

The bathroom was pretty basic, with linoleum tiles, a tub/shower combo and a medicine cabinet. Inside the cabinet, Reid found more condoms. "Better save these for later," he joked to Foxy, and pretended to put them in his pocket.

"Give 'em to me – my kids can use 'em as balloons," Foxy said. "That's about all the action they'll see in my house."

Reid smiled and turned to see Mac's camera in his face. All five of us had crammed into the bathroom and it was tight. Reid straightened up. "Let's keep it clean. My mother might see this."

Other than the condoms, there was nothing special in there. There were some bottles of over-the-counter pain medicine and deodorant – no heavy drugs or straight razors or anything.

Reid looked at Foxy. "I'm gonna call dispatch – find out who the next of kin is." Reid looked at me and the crew. "Excuse me."

We all shuffled out of the way to let him out of the bathroom. Foxy was still nosing around the bathroom and Manny was staring at the toilet. "You gotta go?" Foxy asked.

"No, bro. You gonna check behind that thing? Sometimes that's where they stash the guns," Manny explained.

"This guy isn't Mafia, pal. You've seen too many movies." Despite Manny's comment, Foxy did check behind the toilet, but there was nothing there.

We stepped out of the bathroom and gathered in the kitchen. Foxy continued his search, opening drawers and cabinets. I motioned to Mac to get some shots around the room, but there were no family photos or anything that we could focus on. It was like the guy slept there, but didn't live there.

Reid came in with his cell phone pressed to his ear. "Uh-huh, uh-huh. Thanks." He hung up the phone. "Mother's the next of kin. Was she in his cell phone?"

"No – unless he calls her something other than Mom," Foxy answered.

"That's okay – I've got her address. Better to tell her in person anyway," Reid said. "I checked on this house too – it's a rental. Owner lives in Arizona."

"Are we going now?" I asked. "To notify the mother?"

"Yeah, we're done here. The ME can wrap things up," Reid said.

"Okay. Let me just grab some quick interviews with you guys, okay? Mac, do you want to set up outside?" I felt Reid glaring at me, but I didn't care. There was no excuse not to get this interview. "We don't have to light the shot – it will be quick," I assured him.

Outside, I stood next to Mac who held the camera over his shoulder pointing at Foxy and Reid. In the interest of time, I decided to interview them together. Manny stood to the side holding the boom over the cops. Mac clamped a light to his camera and we were ready to roll.

"Tell me what we have here tonight," I began.

Reid looked at Foxy. "Should I take this?"

"You don't even care about this show – why should you take it?" Foxy snapped.

"Dude, if you want to take it, just say so. Don't be a prick about it."

"I just don't think you should assume Sharpe was talking to you."

"Guys, guys!" I interrupted. "Foxy, can you answer the question please?"

Foxy smiled wide. "I'd be delighted to."

"We don't have all night," Reid grumbled.

Foxy stared at me, all business. "We arrived at the scene at nineteen hundred hours. The victim was lying in the street – an apparent hit-and-run. The injuries were consistent with the cause of death. The victim was walking alone at night when he was struck by a moving vehicle. Forensics has determined that it was likely a mid-sized vehicle or sports car. We also found paint chips on the victim's clothing."

Reid looked at Foxy, surprised. "That was really good, man."

Foxy smiled. "Felt good. I mean, I really sounded like I knew what I was talking about, right?"

"Yeah, you didn't stutter or anything."

"Okay, let's focus." I said. "Foxy, tell me about the house – what did you find?"

"We found numerous prophylactics in the victim's house. More than we have seen in quite some time." His delivery was very matter-of-fact, and Reid found it hard to keep a straight face.

"Hold on – more than _you've_ seen. I've seen that many. In fact, that's probably about a week's supply for me," Reid joked.

"Don't forget your mother will see this," I scolded. "Keep it PG, please."

"All I meant was that this guy may have died young, but he died happy," Reid said, smiling.

I was getting annoyed. These two needed to take this seriously. The man they were joking about was dead. Plus I doubted that Detective Reid really went through that many condoms each week. I couldn't remember the last time I'd even needed one. "We're talking about a dead guy, right? Can we stick to the facts?"

They straightened up and we continued without any more wisecracks. The cops explained what they found in the house, the neighbor's testimony, and so on. At the end, I asked the detectives what they thought the chances of catching this guy were. Of course, Detective Reid scoffed at my ignorance.

"Hit-and-runs are virtually impossible to solve if there are no witnesses. We'll follow all the steps and do everything we can to bring the criminal to justice, but the odds are against us. Sorry, sweetheart, I don't think this is gonna be your big story."

He was right. This story sucked. Why couldn't someone have been shot with a bunch of witnesses? Where was my footage of the cops drilling the suspect for hours and finally dragging a confession out of him? This story was going nowhere fast.

"Come on, let's go," Reid said, and we all headed towards the cars.

Reid popped the trunk and pulled out a spare dress shirt. He threw it at me. "Put this on. We can't have you showing up at the mother's place looking like that."

He was right. The vomit stains wouldn't give the best first impression. "Sharpe, if that doesn't fit, I can give you one of my shirts" Foxy joked.

"That's funny, Foxy." I looked around for a place to change quickly, but I didn't have a lot of options. Reid was standing by the trunk, so I squatted in front of the car and quickly pulled off my shirt. All of a sudden, I felt the car's hot lights turn on. Foxy was in the passenger's seat howling with laughter. Reid walked over to me.

"Today, Sharpe!" he said.

My shirt was over my head exposing my bra and even worse, my stomach. This hunched over position couldn't be a good look for my gut, and I was pretty sure at least one roll of fat was hanging over my jeans. "Damn it – can't I have some privacy?"

"You're naked in the middle of the street," Reid pointed out.

I tried to straighten my posture to smooth the rolls on my stomach but soon realized my attempts were in vain. Instead, I finished changing and jumped up. "Detective," I said calmly as I walked past him and got into the back of the car.

Reid shook his head, then got in the driver's seat and hit the gas. This was going to be a very long night.

### Chapter 4.

I sat in the back of Reid's car trying to pretend that I didn't notice the smell that was clearly emanating off my body. I knew I had to stay in producer mode, but I felt gross and wanted to go home. Up front, the guys were silent. We were about to tell a woman that her son was dead.

We pulled into a small apartment complex and Foxy cut the lights. The building was beige stucco and had two stories. On the side of the building it read "Versailles" in script lettering. It was common in LA for apartment complexes to have names that had absolutely nothing to do with their actual appearance. It was approaching ten o'clock, and I imagined this was the knock on the door in the middle of the night that every mother dreaded.

Mac and Manny pulled up behind us, and Manny quickly swapped out the battery pack on the cops' microphones.

"She's on the second floor – two-oh-six," Reid reported.

"Okay, let's just take a minute and discuss our plan," I said. "This woman might be very emotional and I don't want her to feel overwhelmed by the cameras, okay? So Manny I don't think we should use the boom. Why don't you stay outside, and we can pick up the audio on the camera mic and the lavs."

"The sound isn't going to be clean," Manny said.

"I don't care – this woman's son just died. Reid and Foxy, try to get close to her if you can so we can get the audio off your mics, okay?"

They nodded.

"Mac, you stay behind the cops as they knock on the door and try to capture the mother's reaction. We can get cutaways of these guys later. I need to get a release from her, but I'll worry about that later too."

Reid started at me. "You want a tip?"

I stared at him and braced myself for a smart-ass remark. "Go ahead."

"Until they prove otherwise, everyone is a suspect. Breaking the news to the family is never easy, but you also have to watch their reaction, because you never know what it may reveal."

I smiled. "So what you're saying is that we may actually be helpful? I mean we can play her reaction back for you in case you missed something, right?"

"Sharpe, when I think of you and your cameras, the word 'helpful' doesn't really come to mind. 'Hindrance' is more appropriate. Come on, let's go."

I let his comment roll off my back; I was getting pretty good at doing that. We headed up the outdoor stairs to Mrs. Walter's apartment. It was the last in the row of a motel-style rooms. Reid and Foxy stood in front of the door while Mac stood behind them holding the camera. I was in the background armed with my PD-150. Reid knocked, and after a little while, a woman came to the door.

She was probably in her fifties and very thin. She was wearing a bathrobe and slippers and had a burning cigarette in her hand. "What the hell is this?" She looked at the camera. "Did I win the lotto or some crap?"

Foxy turned to me and flinched. She was expecting dollars, and instead, we were delivering death. "My name is Detective Reid and this is Detective Flanagan. Can we come in?" Reid asked.

"Oh no, what's he done? What's that little shit done now?" she said.

"Ma'am, can we come in?" Reid asked.

She stepped back from the door and motioned for us to come in. She watched Mac and me carefully. I decided this was as good a moment as any and presented her with the release. She was hesitant about it, so I offered her fifty dollars to sign. I knew it was despicable, but I needed to capture this on tape. She took the bait and signed while Reid glared at me, shaking his head.

The woman identified herself as Vera Walters and invited the cops to sit on her couch while Mac and I held back, filming. The apartment was decorated with lots of tacky furniture from the seventies. The couches had clear plastic covers on them, and there were several ashtrays scattered around the room overflowing with ash and cigarette butts. Mac managed to drop a small mic on the side table next to Vera without her noticing. We didn't call him MacGyver for nothing.

"All right, so talk already," Vera began. "I don't got all night." She was tough and uncensored and clearly came from humble means. Some of her teeth were missing and I could only imagine what her lungs looked like.

Foxy leaned in, looking compassionate. "We have some unfortunate news to tell you about your son."

"I don't have a son," Vera spit back.

The cops exchanged glances. "Jonathan Walters – is he your son?"

"What are you here for? He's either dead or arrested – which is it?"

"Dead," Foxy said flatly.

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone turned to look at Foxy – not a whole lot of decorum there. He looked at me and shrugged.

I could tell Reid was studying Vera's face but she didn't seem to care much. She looked down at the floor and thought for a minute. "How did it happen?"

"We believe it was a hit-and-run," Foxy explained. "Do you know if your son had any enemies or anyone who would want to hurt him?"

"I don't know crap about his life. All he cared about was race cars and that whore girlfriend of his."

"When did you last speak with him?" Foxy asked.

"Um, maybe two months ago or so – he wanted to tell me about how much money he had. I figured he was gonna pay me for the TV he stole from me a year ago, but he just wanted to go braggin'. I exploded on him like a fire cracker up a monkey's butt, but he didn't give two shits. All he cared about was racing and that whore girlfriend."

"Do you know the name of his girlfriend by any chance or have her contact information?" Foxy asked, taking out his trusty notebook.

"Now why in shit would I have the number of a whore?" she asked.

Reid interrupted. "Ma'am, when you say 'whore' do you mean she was a professional escort or just...easy?"

I cracked a smile but quickly dropped my head so no one would see.

"She was a whore because every time I saw her she had on them goddamn booty shorts and titty tops. She was always touching Johnny or touching those perky titties of hers – she probably screwed half the guys in this town."

"Right, okay," Reid said. "You said he liked to race cars – do you know where he raced?"

"There's a track up in Oxnard or some snot – I don't know where."

I was starting to think I had wasted fifty bucks. This was not the reaction I had expected, and with the amount of expletives this woman was using, I wasn't sure if any of her words would make air. The cops continued with the questioning, but they didn't get much more information out of her. Vera didn't know where Johnny worked or how he got his money. I found it hard to stomach the idea that a mother wouldn't even care that her son was dead, but she certainly didn't seem to. The cops wrapped up the interview, but before they left, I requested to speak with Vera privately.

I spoke to her in a hushed tone. "Vera, I'm not sure if you realize this but we are filming a television show, and your reaction is going to possibly be played on the air."

"I know," Vera said.

"Oh, okay, I just wanted to make sure because you didn't seem that upset about the news and it might make you seem a little...uncaring."

"Oh shit, you're right! Oh damn, can I get a redo? I don't want my friends to think I'm no heartless bitch – even though they know what a shithead Johnny is...was."

"Sure," I said. "Why don't you take a seat and Mac can get the camera set."

Mac stepped outside and motioned Manny to come in. I approached Reid and Foxy. "Mrs. Walters wasn't happy with her reaction to the news, so she would like to provide you with a new one. Would you mind if we started this over from the beginning?"

Foxy let out a squeal of laughter while Reid glared at me. "You're shitting me, right? First you bribe her, which is illegal by the way, now you want us to redo her interview?"

"She doesn't want to come off as heartless on TV," I whispered.

"Well, that's what she is," Foxy said.

"Come on guys – this will be quick," I said.

"Get the hell out of here," Reid barked. "I've had enough of your games for one evening. Let's go." He motioned to Foxy and the two walked out of the apartment.

I had foolishly thought I was making some headway with Detective Reid, but his inner asshole had once again emerged. For the record, I knew this was unethical and not proper journalism – but I never said I was a journalist. I was a producer, and my job was to "produce" the footage the show needed. Besides, I didn't think that portraying Vera Walters as a woman with some compassion in her heart was such a bad thing.

"We don't need them," I told my crew. "Let's do this."

I played the role of Foxy and broke the news to Vera that her son was dead. She took a while, but then she really got into character. "What – no! God no!" She wailed and started flailing around in her chair. She even managed to summon real tears. "Oh no – not my baby. I'm supposed to go first – oh Lord!"

She was a little melodramatic, but at least I had options. Plus, if she turned out to be the killer, this kind of overacting would really work. Then again, unless she was the best actress in history, she didn't kill Johnny Walters.

We finished up half an hour later and I was pleased with how the interview turned out. I told myself that I was allowing her to release her real emotions while hiding behind the façade of "acting." This line of thinking also allowed me to justify the extra fifty bucks that she demanded as I was walking out the door.

The cops were long gone when we got outside, so I flipped open my cell phone and called Foxy. He was hesitant to talk to me but finally revealed that they had gone back to the crime scene to get the victim's cell phone. Now they were headed to see the girlfriend. He gave me the address, and we agree to meet at her place.

The girlfriend, who was named Rosario, lived in Van Nuys, which was one town over from where I lived in North Hollywood. I asked Mac to drive fast so we could swing by my place and get some fresh clothes. We also realized all at once how starving we were. It was approaching eleven thirty and the appetizers we'd eaten earlier weren't cutting it. Mac dropped me off and then headed two streets over to grab some burgers.

I ran into my apartment and peeled off my clothes. I grabbed a pair of khaki pants and a blue and white striped button down shirt. I threw a navy blue blazer over it and looked in the mirror. I looked a little like I was going out sailing, but I was about to tell someone that her boyfriend was dead and I thought I should dress the part. My hope was that Johnny Walter's girlfriend might actually give a damn that he was dead and give me the reaction I needed.

As I stepped outside Mac pulled up. "Aye aye, captain."

I ignored him and jumped into the back seat. Manny looked at me and shook his head. "Chica, you're never gonna meet a man if you don't learn how to dress."

"I'm not trying to meet anyone, Manny. I'm trying to tell a woman her boyfriend is dead. Now give me my burger."

*****

We drove in silence to Rosario's place, focusing on eating our food as quickly as we could. Five minutes later we pulled up in front of her apartment building. It was nicer than Vera's – it consisted of three levels with a lobby and working elevator. The exterior of the building was gray with some decorative white trim. This building was called "Pacific Place."

Reid and Foxy were sitting in their car, and I was grateful that they had waited for us. Mac had ordered some extra food for them, and I knocked on their car window with my peace offering.

"We thought you might be hungry," I said.

"Thanks. We appreciate that," Foxy said.

Foxy and Reid dug into the bag with even more gusto than the guys and I had. I could feel the burger and fries churning around in my stomach, and it didn't feel so good. I started to become nervous that my first words to Rosario would be, "Your boyfriend is dead – can I use your bathroom?"

Mac and Manny were busy reloading their equipment with fresh tape and making sure everything was properly labeled. The cops finished up their food and stepped out of the car. Reid looked me up and down.

"You had time to change?" It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"Aww, you noticed," I crooned.

"You look like you should be on a freaking boat."

I rolled my eyes as Reid pushed past me. Once Mac and Manny were suited up and ready, we all headed inside.

The lobby was orange and ugly, but there was a security camera and surveillance monitor on the ceiling, which at least gave the impression that the place was safe.

We all piled inside the elevator and Foxy pushed the button for the second floor. "Really, man?" Mac said, staring at him.

"It's freaking midnight. I don't do stairs this late," Foxy answered.

Mac was toned and chiseled and would have probably preferred scaling the building to taking the elevator up one flight. We rode in silence, eyes pointed up, careful not to look at anyone else.

We stepped out onto the second floor. It was a long hall with beige carpeting and probably about eight units on each side. Foxy led us down to unit #113.

I directed Mac to get his camera in position while Manny and I hid outside of view. Foxy knocked on the door, and it opened almost instantly. Our jaws dropped as we took in the statuesque Hispanic woman that stood before us. She was probably five eight, but looked taller because she was wearing a pair of black leather stiletto boots that went well above her knee. Beneath them she had on a pair of tight black pants paired with a low-cut red shirt with a black bra underneath. Her cleavage was so amazing even I was turned on. She had long, black, flowing hair, and she reminded me of a comic book hero. This woman was head-to-toe sex – no wonder Johnny went through all those condoms.

"How about you close your mouths and tell me why you're here," Rosario said in a Spanish accent.

Manny was peeking around the corner trying to get a better look and knocked me with his equipment bag in the process. "Come on Sharpe – get out the way!" he whispered.

"Uh..." Reid cleared his throat. "Are you Rosario Ortez?"

"Who's asking?" she said.

"Detectives Flanagan and Reid. May we come in?" Foxy said.

"I'm not in trouble, right?"

"No ma'am," Foxy answered.

Rosario stepped back. Reid and Foxy walked in while Manny, Mac, and I followed.

"Uh, hold up. Is this a freaking parade?" she said, looking at me.

I figured she didn't like having female competition in the room. Then I remembered I was wearing a sailor suit and knew I was only kidding myself.

Manny walked up to Rosario and handed her a business card. "My name is Emanuel. If I can ever be of service to you, please let me know. You can call me day or night."

"Manny!" Reid scolded.

"I'm Victoria Sharpe. I am working with Detectives Reid and Flanagan on a TV show – it's kind of like a cop show. Would it be okay if we filmed you?"

"Am I arrested?" Rosario asked coyly and I knew the guys were all thinking dirty thoughts about what they could do with a pair of handcuffs.

"No, of course not," I said.

Rosario nodded, giving her consent. I decided to wait until after the interview to bust out the paperwork – I mean, hell, it might not even be worth it. Plus, the burger was really rumbling in my stomach, and I knew I needed to grab hold of a chair or something to cope with the pain.

"Please sit down, Ms. Ortez," Reid said.

Rosario's apartment was nicely furnished. She had two large comfortable couches and a high-def television. She had an eat-in kitchen that was off to the side and it looked like a bedroom and bathroom in the back of the apartment. She sat on the couch. Her boots were so high that when she sank into the seat cushion her knees were almost at the same level as her face. The angle was screwing up Mac's shot, but he managed to work around it.

"Miss Ortez, you know Jonathan Walters, correct?" Reid asked.

"No," she said.

Reid looked blankly at Foxy. First Vera said she didn't have a son; now, Rosario was saying she didn't know the victim either.

"I'm sorry; we were under the impression that Mr. Walters was your boyfriend," Foxy said.

"If you're single, honey, I would love to get to know you better," Manny blurted out.

"Manny, shut up!" I whispered and smacked him on the knee.

"My boyfriend's name is Chaser. We call him that because the cops like to chase him, but they never catch him. Did you catch him this time, Detective?" Rosario asked Reid. She was flirting with him, which I thought was odd. I mean, why did she think we were here? Cops didn't make house calls just to tell you your boyfriend was arrested.

"Does Chaser live at 1724 Lankershim Boulevard?" Foxy asked.

Rosario leaned back. "Don't beat around the bush with me, Detective – it's late."

"We found your boyfriend dead tonight," Foxy blurted out.

I shook my head. This guy did not have tact. Rosario sat still. She bowed her head down, thinking. Finally, she lifted her eyes to Foxy. "How did it happen?"

"We believe it was a hit-and-run," Foxy said. "His neighbor heard the car outside but didn't see anything."

"Uh-huh," Rosario said, nodding. "So it happened in front of his place?"

"Yes," Foxy said.

"How'd you find me?" Rosario asked.

"John-uh, Chaser had your number written down at his house. We traced the number."

She nodded.

"Maybe you can tell us a little more about your boyfriend. What did he do for a living?" Foxy asked.

Rosario looked uncomfortable. "This and that."

"He had a nice place for someone who did this and that," Reid said. "Was he into something illegal, Rosario?"

"Call me Rose. Everyone else does," she answered.

"Do you know how he made his money, Rose?" Reid asked.

"Am I under arrest?" Rose asked again.

This was getting good. This woman had the potential to be a great villain. I was waiting for her to slip into a white dress and ask to take a lie detector test. Unfortunately, I couldn't fully savor the moment because I was fighting a losing battle with my intestines. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, and I shifted back and forth in my chair.

"We are just talking," Foxy said. "No one is accusing you of anything."

"Do you have something you would like to tell us? Some information that might lead us to Chaser's killer?" Reid asked.

"You said it was a hit-and-run, right? It could have been anyone," Rose answered dismissively.

Reid leaned in. "Or it could have been someone you know, Rose. You don't have any ideas about who could have done this? It sounds like Chaser was involved in some bad shit. What do you know about his racing?"

Foxy and Reid had the good cop-bad cop routine down cold. Unfortunately, Rose wasn't taking the bait. She stood up and walked to the door.

"Detectives, I have just heard some very upsetting news. I'd appreciate it if you would leave now."

Reid and Foxy looked at each other and stood up. Foxy approached her and handed her a business card. "If you think of anything that might help us solve the case, give me a call."

Rose held the door open and the cops walked out, followed by Mac and Manny. I stayed behind.

"I know this is a little bit awkward, but I was wondering if I could use your bathroom," I said.

Rose glared at me.

"Would you say yes to fifty bucks?" I asked.

Five minutes later, I stepped into the night air feeling much lighter and much better. I wasn't sure how I was going to justify all these bribes against my petty cash, but Mac would probably be able to produce some sort of receipt for me. The beauty part was that Rose also agreed to sign the release form as a thank you for the cash.

I met the guys outside – they were all talking in front of Reid's black Taurus. Manny was talking to Foxy.

"I don't care if she's the killer, bro, she is smoking hot! I mean did you check out those boots? Imagine how she'd look naked with those things on – ay mamí!"

"Just imagine her in a jail cell getting in cat fights with the other women – their orange jump suits tearing to reveal black vinyl bras and panties," Foxy said. The guys all chuckled.

"There's a lady present," Mac said, pointing to me.

"She's not a lady – she's one of the guys. Right, Sharpe?" Foxy said.

"Well, she seemed guilty as hell to me," I said.

"I don't think so," Reid said.

"Come on! You said you can tell everything by their reaction. She was so cagey – she wouldn't answer anything," I said.

"I think her boyfriend was into something illegal," Reid said. "Probably sold drugs or something – she doesn't want to get involved."

"She's probably not legal either," Foxy said.

"I could make her legal baby – any day," Manny said.

"You better watch it, Manny. She'll kill you next," Mac teased.

Manny laughed, but I could see a bit of concern in his eyes.

### Chapter 5.

It was now close to two in the morning and I was yearning for a shower, but Reid wanted to go to Oxnard to the race track that Vera mentioned. Oxnard was a bit of a hike, and despite the late hour, we were crawling along the highway in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Foxy had offered me his spot up front so that he could stretch out on the backseat and give his wife a call. Reid was on the phone with someone back at the station who was looking up the address of the Oxnard track. "Okay, great, thanks," he said as he jotted down an address and hung up.

I picked up my cell and placed a call to Mac, who was driving the SUV behind us. I read him the address and hung up. I was fighting to keep my eyes open.

"So how about those Dodgers?" I said to Reid.

"What about them?" he asked grumpily.

"I don't know. I was just trying to think of something to say."

Reid half smiled. "You can say this sucks. That's what you're thinking, right?"

"No, this is awesome. I'm usually up this late anyway, this is my peak time."

"Good, because we'll be at this all night." Reid said.

I paused then looked at Reid. "Okay, this sucks. Why can't people get murdered during the day? Or why don't they give you the night shift instead of making you work all hours? I mean, this is inhumane."

"I get OT. What about you?" Reid said.

I laughed. "The guys do. They're probably making my week's salary in one night. We creative types are always punished."

"That sucks," Reid said.

Foxy was still on the phone, and I could hear him giggling with his wife. "I love you Sherry Pie...No, I love you more."

I smiled and looked at Reid. "They're high school sweethearts. It's nice that they're still so in love, don't you think?"

Reid ignored me and focused on the road.

"Do you have anyone special in your life?" I asked.

"I thought I said no personal questions," Reid said.

"Yes, you did say that."

"No," Reid said flatly. "I don't have time for that crap."

"You should try to make time. Before you know it, you'll be my age and wondering where the time has gone."

"I am your age – older actually. I'm thirty-two."

I was surprised to hear he was older than me. I guess I thought he was younger because of his childish behavior. "Wait a minute – how do you know my age?" I asked.

Reid looked away.

"Detective – I asked you a question."

"I profiled you. I pulled your ID while you were taping Foxy's interview," Reid said under his breath.

"You what? Isn't that abuse of the city's resources, Detective? Not to mention invasion of my privacy?"

Reid shrugged.

I felt my face getting red and hot. He had no right to do that to me. "What'd you find out?" I demanded.

"You're pretty clean. You got picked up for shoplifting when you were eighteen."

"That was a misunderstanding," I corrected.

"And you had your license suspended after you threw a lit object out of your car window while driving in the hills," Reid said, a slight smile forming on his face.

"So what? You smoke. I'm sure you've thrown your cigarette out of the car once or twice."

"I don't smoke that often – only when I'm really on edge," he said, glancing over at me. "The report said that you actually hit the officer with the cigarette when you threw it."

"He was hiding in my blind spot!"

"It also said he was riding a bicycle."

"Do you have a point?" I asked. "That ticket cost me eight hundred bucks, you know."

"Yes, that was in the report."

"Well, at least it helped me stop smoking. I quit the next day. You're probably the only person left in Malibu who still smokes, you know."

"Shh!" Reid said, turning to make sure Foxy didn't hear. "I thought that was private, big mouth."

"Right, sorry." I really was a big mouth but I managed to keep it shut for the rest of the ride.

*****

The race track was located in the bottom of a ravine. Reid drove the car up a nearby hill so that we could look down on the track unnoticed.

Reid got out of the car with Foxy and me following. Manny and Mac pulled up behind us and got out, carrying their equipment. They looked tired, we all did – but now was not the time to start complaining.

Mac threw an arm over me as we walked towards the edge of the cliff. "You made it in one piece," he said. "I don't see any bruises on either one of you," he continued, motioning to Detective Reid.

"It's not for lack of trying," I said. "He ran my name through the system and pulled up all this dirt on me. He probably did the same to you guys."

Mac looked at me and smiled. "He really is an asshole, isn't he?"

"Yup," I agreed. "Watch your back."

We approached the edge of the cliff and looked down. Beneath us, we could see an oval shaped track. There were several sets of rusted-out bleachers and a beat-up watchtower where I presumed the correspondents would sit if this place ever had a race worth broadcasting. There were about twenty cars in the parking lot, and two cars were racing around the track. The cars were not official race cars – they were souped-up sports cars – and we could hear the rev of their engines very clearly from above. The first car looked to be some sort of Camaro with one of those fancy engines that protrudes from the front hood. The second car was a Spyder. It was a dark green on the outside and super fast. I estimated the guys were probably going over a hundred miles an hour.

Mac threw his camera over his shoulder and starting shooting. "Looks like they're going about one-eighty down there," Mac announced.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed that Mac knew more about this stuff than I did, although I should have expected that he would. Reid stared down and surveyed the scene. The cars were continuing to race around the track, and there was a group of about twenty five people who were cheering and drinking beers.

Mac zoomed in to get a better look below. He whipped out a pair of binoculars, then nudged me and handed them over. Mac guided the binoculars until I saw what he wanted me to see – Rose was walking into the arena. I looked at him and smiled.

"Detective," I said to Reid. "Look who's here." I pointed down to Rose. I handed Reid the binoculars and he took a look. We weren't that high up, and I could see her pretty well even without the binoculars. She was dressed the same but she looked frantic. She ran over to the group of race fans and spoke to one of the women. The woman she spoke with pointed to the green Spyder racing around the track. My guess was that Rose was looking for whoever was driving that car. She nodded and then collapsed to her knees dramatically causing everyone in the group to suddenly turn.

"It's probably really sinking in right about now," Foxy said, watching her.

I wasn't so sure. It all seemed terribly rehearsed. I nudged Mac to film the detectives while I threw some questions out to them.

"Why didn't you ask Rose about this place when you spoke with her?" I asked Reid.

"She wasn't gonna talk," he said. "This is the illegal shit she was afraid for us to find out about. Some of it at least."

"Racing?" I asked. "What's the big deal?"

"We don't know yet," Foxy chimed in. "They could be racing for cash, they could be racing for drugs or on drugs. Who knows what kind of crazy stuff these dudes are into, but whatever it is, it's bad enough that one of them got killed."

I nodded as that all sunk in.

"Let's not get carried away here okay? We are still very likely dealing with a simple hit-and-run," Reid reminded us.

By now, the woman Rose had initially spoken with had brought her over to a bench and was kneeling in front of her consoling her. There were a few more people gathered around Rose, but most of the others had gone back to watching the race. The cars continued to race around the track, lightning fast. I saw a man carrying a black and white checked flag approaching the watchtower, so I figured the race was almost done. The cars did one final lap, and then the flag came out. The green Spyder was in the lead, but the Camaro pumped the gas hard and pulled out front. The Spyder floored it, and they were neck and neck. I found myself getting excited. "Come on green car, come on!" I said.

All the guys stopped and looked at me. "Shh!" they all said in unison.

My face turned bright red. "I'm sorry, I was getting into this."

We all turned our attention back to the race. At the last second the Spyder pulled ahead and emerged victorious. The crowd cheered. I tried to keep my composure, but I was happy that my car had won.

The Spyder slammed on the brakes and slid 180 degrees around the track. He stopped just short of the wall and the crowd cheered and rushed over to him. The driver climbed out the window and sat on the sill. He raised his hands triumphantly and high-fived a bunch of people. From what I could see, the driver was lean with short hair and wore a tank top that showed off his various tattoos. I couldn't make out what the tattoos were, but I could see that they were all over his arms and neck.

The driver of the other car pulled over and got out. The woman I presumed to be his girlfriend ran up to him and consoled him while he kicked the tires on his car and made a big show of it.

I turned and looked at Mac. "This is good stuff," I whispered.

He nodded. I felt like I was watching a silent film. Even though I couldn't tell what the characters were saying, I could follow the story by the way they were acting and moving around. It was cool.

The defeated driver walked over to the winner. Reid turned to Mac. "Zoom in on their hands – see if they exchange anything."

Mac did as he was told. The defeated driver shook hands with the winner. Reid was glued to the binoculars and Mac to his camera, but it didn't look like they exchanged anything besides a handshake.

"Did you see anything?" Reid asked anxiously.

"No," Mac answered.

I watched as the defeated party got in his car with his girlfriend and drove away. The woman who had been comforting Rose walked over to the driver of the green Spyder and spoke to him, pointing back at Rose. I guess he didn't care much because he just seemed to shrug and then focus back on his fans. The woman looked annoyed as she walked back over to Rose, who was still sitting on the bench.

"Whoa," Manny said. "I wouldn't turn my back on that piece of candy."

"Nice," Foxy added. "They tell the guy his buddy is dead and he doesn't give it a second thought."

"You don't know what she said down there. She might have just said Rose is upset or something," Reid said.

"That foxy bitch isn't gonna stand for that," Manny said. "I doubt she's used to men ignoring her."

And just as he said it, Rose stood up and headed over to speak to the driver.

"Yeah, you go girl!" Manny called out.

"Shh!" we all said.

We watched as Rose walked with purpose over to the driver. She walked up to him and probably said something like, " _I need to speak with you_." And then he seemed to say something back like " _Later._ " She stared at him for a while, then turned and walked off the track and into the parking lot.

"Let's get down there before that guy has time to get his story together," Foxy said.

Reid nodded, and we all got in the SUV and headed down the hill.

As we drove, Reid addressed Mac and Manny. "Okay, I know you guys need to get your shot, but I need you to hang back on this one. I'll wear a wire and so will Foxy, but I need you guys to stay hidden until we say it's okay. Sharpe, you can come with us and if the perp seems willing, then you can get your permissions."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I said. "I'm in charge of the filming here!"

Reid stopped and stared at me. So did everyone else.

"Do what he said," I ordered, pointing at Reid.

"Okay, great," Mac said, smiling at me.

We drove down the hill and pulled into the dirt parking lot of the race track. Some of the cars had already disappeared, but several still remained. The cops thought it best to take the SUV because it wasn't an obvious cop car. Their "unmarked" Taurus screamed undercover cop. Besides, no one attending this race would have driven up in a piece of crap car like that.

Mac pulled the SUV to the front of the lot so that he could get a decent shot while safely hidden in the car. Reid pulled out his gun, checked for ammo, and then holstered it. I had to admit I was a little turned on. Foxy did the same thing, but it didn't have the same effect on me. When everyone was ready, we stepped out of the car.

Reid and Foxy took the lead, walking with authority while I brought up the rear. I could still feel my burger gurgling around in my stomach, and I was certain that it wouldn't be hard for someone to scare the shit out of me – literally.

The driver of the green Spyder had gotten out and was looking under the hood at the engine. There were five people gathered around him, and he was smiling as he bragged about his equipment.

Foxy was the first to get to the crowd. He pulled out his badge and addressed the driver. "What have we got going on here, son?"

The driver wasn't much younger than Foxy, so I assumed calling him "son" was just a cop trick to make the suspect feel inferior.

The people gathered around the car scattered, but the driver remained calm. He wore a silver chain dangling between his nipples and exuded coolness. His shirt was held together by a single button, and his hair was greased and scruffy. He had more tattoos on his arms and neck than I could count, and most of them seemed to be pictures of skulls or race cars or naked women.

"Not a thing, officer," the driver said. "Just showing some friends my car. Is that illegal?"

"What's your name, son?" Foxy asked.

"What's your name?" the driver countered.

"Cut the shit," Reid said. "You can answer the questions here, or we can drag you to the station and you can answer them there."

The driver looked at Reid, then Foxy, but he wasn't talking.

"Look, kid, you're not in trouble here. We just need to ask you some questions about Chaser. You know him, right?" Foxy asked.

Good cop-bad cop again. These guys had it down.

"Yeah, I know him. Is he in trouble?"

"Why don't you start by showing us some identification," Foxy said.

The driver hesitated, then pulled out his wallet. He retrieved his license and handed it to Foxy. Foxy whipped out a notepad and wrote the name and driver's license number down. "Jason Loudermilk. Wow, that's some name."

"They call me Kitt."

"Oh I get it – like the car, right?" Foxy said.

"No," Kitt answered.

He was cool with the cops. No fears. I liked that about him. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from this guy.

"Look, your friend is dead, pal. We need to know where you were tonight between the hours of six and eight o'clock," Reid blurted out.

Kitt didn't react. Instead, he glanced at me. "Who's the chick?"

I opened my mouth to speak but Reid held up a hand and stopped me. "She's with us. Now did you hear what I said to you?"

"Yeah I heard you. You telling me I'm a suspect?"

"I'm asking you a simple question. If you can't answer it, then yes, you will be considered a suspect," Reid said.

"I was home until nine – any other questions?" Kitt said.

"Were you alone?" Foxy asked.

"No – I had a girl over." Kitt glanced at me. "We were banging."

"What is the name of the woman you were with? We'd like to contact her," Reid said.

"No idea," Kitt said. "I picked her up at a bar – I didn't ask too many questions – you dig me?"

Now it was Reid's turn to check for my reaction, but I stood stone still.

"We'd like to take you down to the police station to ask you some questions," Foxy said.

"Now?" Kitt asked.

"Yes, now," Reid answered.

Kitt looked at me again. I could feel his eyes down on my legs. "She comin'?"

Reid turned and looked over at me. He shook his head disapprovingly. "Yeah, she's coming."

"I'll take my car – you dig?" Kitt said. His voice was deep and raspy as he spoke.

"Fine, you can follow us," Reid said.

Reid and Foxy turned to walk to their car. Kitt moved in close and stared down at me, licking his lips. I knew I was an idiot – this guy was a murder suspect yet I found myself oddly fascinated by this guy.

"You wanna ride with me, baby?" he asked.

I smiled and was about to say yes when Reid grabbed my arm. "She rides with me."

Kitt held up his hands. "Whoa, did I ruffle the big man's feathers? Didn't mean to move in on your girl, dude." Kitt backed off and got into his car. I watched him jump through the window into the driver's seat.

"Let's go, Sharpe," Reid said sternly.

### Chapter 6.

Back at the station, I sat in the control room watching Kitt on the monitor. His eyes were dark and deep and he was cool as a cucumber. He had agreed to sign my release because he said I was too cute to say no to. I found myself giggling like an idiot every time he spoke to me. I guess I was really hard up for companionship.

As I watched the interview take place, it occurred to me that so far, no one seemed to care that Chaser was dead. His mother didn't care, his girlfriend merely faked some emotions, and now Kitt was acting like he had just heard that the mail didn't come. I wondered if any of them already knew he was dead when we got to them, or if they thought their nonchalance would make them seem less guilty. I had been listening to Reid and Foxy interrogate Kitt for half an hour, and so far they didn't have much of anything.

Kitt had admitted to knowing Chaser and said they occasionally raced cars together. He didn't know where he was tonight and hadn't heard from him in a few days. Kitt said that Rose had told him that Chaser was dead earlier, and that was why he didn't give the big reaction we were hoping for when he heard the news. He also said Rose had a flair for the dramatic and he was used to not reacting to things she said.

"Have you ever had sexual encounters with Rose?" Foxy asked.

Kitt's lips curled into a slow smile. "Me and half this town."

Manny, who was sitting next to me, perked up. "That gives me hope."

"Did you have sexual relations while Rose and Chaser were dating?" Foxy asked.

"No. I don't poach whores – you follow?" Kitt answered. "Look, it's late and I don't want to be here anymore. I've answered your questions, now let's end this."

Mac turned to me. "I'm with him. I don't want to be here anymore either."

"Just think about your overtime and be quiet," I whispered.

Mac paused for a moment and then smiled as he computed the numbers in his head.

Inside the interview room, Reid and Foxy stood up. They told Kitt that they would like to contact him if they had any more questions, and he agreed. Foxy handed him his card and told him to call him if he thought of anything that could help the case.

A few moments later, Reid, Foxy and Kitt were all walking out of the interrogation room. Mac, Manny and I came out of the booth to videotape Kitt's departure. Kitt shook the hands of the detectives, then pointed a finger at me. "Catch you later, baby." He turned and walked out.

Reid looked me up and down – examining my blazer and pants. "I'm not exactly seeing the appeal here."

"It's obviously the stuff under these clothes that he's interested in," I told him, gripping my blazer.

"Oh, I see. And you like that, right? A murder suspect thinking you're hot?"

I shrugged, not sure what to say.

"All right, I've had enough fun for one night. I'm going home," Foxy said.

"I'll second that," I said. It was four in the morning now, and we were all exhausted.

Reid looked at me. "See you back here at nine?"

I felt anger rising in me, but I knew this was part of the job. I had to have a positive attitude in front of my crew. "I'll be here." I turned to the crew. "I need to give you guys ten hours between shifts so be back here at two tomorrow. I'll cover with the PD-150."

Mac looked at me and then Manny. "We'll compromise and be back at twelve – okay?"

"Okay," I said. "Thanks."

My car was still parked at the production office, so Mac and Manny drove me home. It was 4:07 and I spent the ten minute drive calculating the number of hours I was going to be able to sleep. It wasn't looking good for me.

I walked up the flight of stairs to my apartment only to find my sister sleeping on the floor in front of my door. She was in one of those jumpsuits with the velour pants and matching hoodie. I wouldn't be caught dead in that getup, but she managed to pull it off.

Ginny was twenty-seven and even though she was only a few years younger than me, it seemed like a decade. I remembered myself being more mature at her age, but I guess when you're the baby of the family, it's hard to give up that role. She had fair skin and fair hair and loved to prance around in sundresses and ballet flats. She'd sometimes pin a flower in her hair and her makeup was always perfect – just like my TV star mother. Ginny was getting married in a little over a week and she was a total basket case. Every time we got together, she'd tell me how she was stressed about this and that and then she'd obsess over stupid details for hours. I'd typically get in three words and they tended to be something like "Shut up already!" Still, I was the maid of honor, so I'd have to be nice for one more week. I nudged her and she jumped.

"Huh!" she exclaimed.

"Ginny, it's four in the morning, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Well I didn't get here at four. Where were you?"

"I was working," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm doing a new show ."

"Well, anyway, I had to come," she said.

I sighed dramatically. "Can we talk another time? I'm tired and I don't want to hear about your problems." I pushed past her and put the key in the door. Ginny stood up and followed me inside.

"Who am I supposed to talk to?" Ginny whined. "I can't talk to mom about this stuff."

"I don't know, Sarah, Kimmy, Theresa – any of your friends. They would be happy to hear this crap."

"You're the maid of honor and you have to listen. It's part of the job," she countered.

"Then I quit." I threw my purse on the counter and walked over to the fridge. My kitchen was in a little nook in the front of the apartment. The cabinets and fridge were lined up against the front and side walls and there was a little island that separated the kitchen area from the living room. There were two bar stools on the living room side of the countertop. Ginny took a seat on one.

"I have an offering," she said, pulling a bottle of wine out of a paper bag.

I sighed. Actually a glass of wine sounded pretty good. "How'd you get this past Bob?" I grabbed a corkscrew and opened the bottle. Bob was Ginny's fiancé and if drinking were a competitive sport, he would be in the All-Stars. He wasn't an alcoholic, he was just very efficient and would typically drain a glass of wine or beer in one sip.

She wouldn't admit it, but Ginny was marrying Bob because he was a successful and financially solvent entertainment lawyer with a promising future. In short – she liked his money. He was older than her at thirty-seven, he was balding and in my opinion, quite unattractive. I sometimes wondered if he even knew what a hairbrush was, but he was nice enough to my sister. Plus, he was moving her out of my parents' house, which was a blessing for all of us.

I picked up my phone and checked to see if I had any messages. There was only one, and it was from my mother.

"Honey, I met the most amazing man today. He was the assistant director on a shoot I was working on and I told him all about you. He's thirty-five, divorced, but a real cutie. His number is 818..."

I deleted the message before my mother could get out the rest of the phone number. She was forever trying to set me up with strange men and it was a little embarrassing. Half of Hollywood knew that Evelyn Sharpe had a lonely, desperate, thirty-year-old daughter in need of a man.

"Who was that?" Ginny asked.

"Mom. She's trying to fix me up with an assistant director. I'll bet you anything he's the director's assistant. She's always matching me with losers."

"Did she give this loser your number?" Ginny asked.

"No. Luckily I put a stop to that. Now she gives me _their_ numbers – but I never call."

We moved out to the balcony and sat on plastic lawn chairs, sipping our wine out of paper cups. My dishwasher was on the fritz and my landlord was lazy, so I was all about disposable cups and plates these days. In the courtyard below, a couple was sitting intimately in the Jacuzzi, talking.

"Vic, in your _limited_ sexual experience..." Ginny began.

I glared at her. "You're such an expert?"

"Sorry, that was rude. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd ever come across an after-sex weeper."

"A what?"

"Sometimes after Bob and I...do it...he starts crying. I was just wondering if that ever happened to you."

"Oh that's so sweet," I crooned.

"Really, you think so?"

"No, Gin, not really."

"I'm not telling you so this you can make fun of me," she pouted.

"Then we should probably change the subject."

"So that's never happened to you, right?"

"I'm usually doing the crying after sex," I joked. "So Bob just starts crying for no reason?"

"There's a reason. He finds sex to be a very emotional experience. It moves him to tears."

"Maybe that's not the reason. Maybe it's something you're doing wrong," I teased.

"Shut up," Ginny said.

I looked below and saw that two girls in bikinis were joining the couple in the hot tub. It was practically dawn and these girls were still partying. I always thought the idea of taking a bath with strangers was odd. I guessed the couple agreed with me because they promptly got up and stepped out.

Ginny sipped her drink and looked down at the bikini-clad girls. "Look at those two – not a care in the world. They're not marrying a weeper – they have many more sexual experiences ahead of them."

Ginny was a long-term dater and had only two boyfriends prior to Bob. Both relationships lasted longer than four years, and she was always whining that she would never be able to experience casual sex.

"Bob's been with like thirteen women, you know," she announced.

"Well they must have been either drunk, paid or blind." I laughed at my joke but Ginny didn't seem amused. Instead she just stared down at the bikini girls in the tub – jealous without even knowing them.

"So how's this new job?" Ginny finally asked.

"Wow, Gin, you almost made it sound like you care," I remarked. "It's horrible. I'm following around a bunch of cops. One of them is okay but the other is a real pain in the ass."

"Is he cute?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," I answered sarcastically. "I'll sleep with him and give you all the details – maybe he's a weeper too."

"Sounds good." Ginny smiled and took another swig of her drink.

Down below a few men had joined the girls in the hot tub and they were drooling while the two girls made out in front of them. I rolled my eyes. "Freakin' LA."

I kicked Ginny out the door ten minutes later, stripped off my pants and blazer, and collapsed in the bed. I didn't even bother to put on my pajamas. Within minutes I was asleep.

*****

I woke up three and a half hours later to my alarm buzzing. It was eight thirty and I was due at the station at nine. I hated to rush, but I hated losing sleep even more, so I was okay with the state of things as I leaped from corner to corner of the bathroom throwing on lipstick, brushing my hair and shaving my legs. I knew there was a possibility I would see Kitt again and I wanted to look good. I settled on a pair of black short shorts and a white blouse that hung down on one side, exposing my shoulder. Underneath, I wore a black lacy camisole. I finished off the look with a pair of black ballet flats. I did the best I could with my hair and then rushed out the door.

I ran down the stairs to the parking garage only to realize that my car was still at the office in Venice. "Son of a bitch!"

I arrived by taxi fifteen minutes late, but Foxy and Reid hadn't shown up yet, so I ran across the street to get some coffee and donuts. When I got back to the office, the guys were just arriving and were very grateful for the caffeine. Foxy looked like death warmed over and Reid looked like he showered in a hurry and hadn't bothered to get all the soap out of his hair.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Reid asked me. "Hoping to see that dirt bag again?"

"Are you the fashion police now too?" I countered.

Reid didn't answer; he just grunted and sat down at his desk. I whipped out my trusty PD-150 camera and pointed it at the guys.

"So what's on deck for today?" I asked.

Foxy saw that the camera was rolling and put on a serious face. "Computer work first. I want to run Chaser, Kitt, and Rose and look for priors, previous places of residence, anything that might give us some insight into their world. Then we have to work the phones. I want to call Chaser's landlord, previous employers, old girlfriends – anyone I can find."

"I want to hit up Rose again too," Reid said to Foxy, ignoring my camera. "She's hiding something, and I don't think it's just that he races cars for money."

Foxy nodded. They both got to work while I grabbed some shots of the computer screens and what they were finding. Chaser had a few speeding tickets but no drug busts. Reid was sure he was a dealer, but he wasn't finding anything to prove his theory. Chaser had been the driver in a previous hit-and-run accident with a parked car that witnesses tied back to him. He was born in LA and he'd lived here for most of his life except for a period of about a year, which he spent in Vegas living in various hotel rooms.

They learned that Chaser had one credit card but it carried a low balance – he was strictly a cash guy. His landlord said that he had always paid the rent on time by cashier's check, but that was about all he knew about him. They had never met face to face.

The cops were starting to piece together Chaser's profile. He was someone who took risks but was smart enough to stay away from the law by paying his rent and keeping debts low. His killer could easily be someone he beat in a race or someone that was either sleeping with or wanted to sleep with Rose. Kitt had said that she would sleep with almost anyone – maybe she had a jealous suitor lurking around.

The colored paint chips found on the body indicated that Chaser was likely run down by someone in a race car that bore the matching paint. The answers were at the track – the challenge was to get someone to talk.

Foxy called the race track and got a list of racers that frequented the course. The track rented for five hundred dollars for two hours, and they seemed to have a pretty full roster. Some of the names the cops could easily eliminate, as they were deemed "legitimate" racers. They divided up the rest of the names and started working the phones.

I was excited about the prospect of finding a clue or – even better – a snitch, but the first dozen calls ended with people either not answering or not knowing Chaser or Kitt.

I decided I needed to take a break and went for my fifth cup of coffee of the day. I was now drinking the sludge in the cops' coffee maker. I dialed Lenny on my cell and stepped outside to get some fresh air. I figured it was about time I brought him up to speed on things.

"Whaddya got for me, Sharpe?" Lenny asked.

"Hit-and-run last night in Receda."

"Shit," Lenny blew out. "I need a real case – they'll never solve that."

"Not necessarily. They're leaning towards ruling it a homicide. The guy was run down by a race car...probably. He raced cars for cash – illegal stuff – we think it might be connected," I explained.

"Car racing, huh? I like it. So what's next?" Lenny asked.

"The guys are calling around now – trying to find other racers from the track that might know the victim. I think the girlfriend did it. She's this smoking hot Latina."

"Sharpe, this sounds good. The other teams are striking out and I need a story."

"Is Missy striking out too?" I asked coyly.

"Missy's got a gang hit – I think it will be wrapped up today. There's no suspense, everyone is talking to the cops. I need a story that I can deliver to the network to get the buzz going. We go live in a week – can you deliver this story to me?"

The truth was I had no idea if I could deliver. It was very possible that this was just a hit-and-run case that would never be solved. The only thing I knew was that I wanted to beat Missy, so I opened my mouth and made a promise.

"You have my word – you'll have the story."

*****

As I walked back into the room, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I shouldn't have made that promise. Reid and Foxy seemed good, but there were no guarantees they could crack this thing. We didn't even have any strong leads. I started to think about my career. Failing to fulfill a promise wasn't going to get me a promotion. Over the past six years I had been bounced from show to show, mostly because of my mother's connections. I knew people didn't think I was that good – I wasn't. There were producers out there who made it seem so easy. They knew what to do in every situation and what questions to ask. As for me, I had this bad habit of thinking about my next question instead of listening to the answer I was being given. This meant I constantly lost my train of thought during interviews and ended up having to replay the tapes afterwards to learn what anyone said. This was finally my chance to prove myself, and I had to find a way.

Mac was sitting at our desk when I walked back in. He looked me up and down. "Wow, Sharpe. Three hours of sleep and you look great."

Without thinking, I planted myself on Mac's lap and hugged him. I needed a compliment right about now, and I was very happy to accept it – even if it was just about my looks. I was also exhausted and used this excuse to rest my head for a minute. "Thank you, Mac."

Mac pulled my head off his shoulder and looked me in the eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I just promised Lenny this case would be solved by next week. He wants it to be the first show in the series," I whispered.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"Missy's already got her first case solved. It's a boring gang-banger case, but they found the killer and made an arrest. Mac – we have to solve this thing."

" _We_ have to?" Mac asked.

"I want to go down to the track tonight again. Reid and Foxy don't have to know."

"So you want to go undercover?" Mac asked.

"It's not really undercover – I mean, Kitt knows me. I just want to talk to him – off the record."

"But on camera?" Mac said.

"If you're interested," I answered.

"Okay, it's a date. But let's keep Manny out of this – I can handle the audio."

I kissed Mac on the cheek and stood up. I was suddenly feeling much better about the whole thing. After all, I had MacGyver by my side – what could go wrong?

I glanced over at Foxy who was shaking his head. I don't think he heard what we were talking about, but I did think he was getting the impression that I was a bit of a floozy. I started to develop a conscience about it, but then I decided I was reading too much into Foxy's expressions. He probably just farted or something.

*****

The day progressed without incident. The guys worked the phones, researched profiles, and typed up their notes. We drove by Rose's apartment later in the day to see if we could bring her into the station for further questioning, but she wasn't around.

By six o'clock, we were all fading. "Why don't you go home, Sharpe?" Reid said. "We're almost done here – I think we all need a good night's sleep."

Normally I would have objected, but the truth was, I wanted to rest up before my recon mission later that night with Mac. I stood up quickly. "Okay, if you're sure. We'll see you in the morning. Get some rest."

I hurried out the door with Mac and Manny in tow.

Manny took off in his car as soon as I gave him tomorrow's call time, and Mac drove me back to my apartment.

"I'll pick you up around ten," Mac said as we drove. "These guys race late – if they show at all, it won't be until at least ten, so we'll have plenty of time. " Mac turned and gave me a once over. "I would wear something sexy tonight, maybe some red lipstick."

"That's the plan. Although the conservative sailor look seemed to be working for Kitt last night."

"Better make it a slutty sailor's costume then," Mac said.

"Okay, I'll see you at ten. I'm gonna try to get some sleep in between."

Mac dropped me off in front of my building and I ran inside. I was exhausted and anxious to get into my bed as quickly as possible. I opened the door to my apartment and headed towards my bed. My pillow was covered with mascara from the night before, so I flipped it over and promptly passed out.

*****

I awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. I had planned to sleep until nine, but when I looked at the clock, I saw that it was only eight forty-five. The person calling had just robbed me of fifteen minutes.

I fumbled around my dresser until I found the phone. "Hello?" I said in a groggy voice.

"Vicky?" my sister asked.

"Oh, for God's sake, Ginny – can't you let me sleep?"

"It's like nine at night, Vick. You're thirty, not seventy."

"I was taking a nap. What do you want?"

"Bob and I had a fight. Can I come over?"

"No, you can't come over. I'm investigating a murder and I have to be somewhere in an hour."

I could hear Ginny crying on the other end of the phone. I rolled my eyes grandly – I only wished she could have seen. I wasn't her mother and I wasn't Bob – her tears didn't work on me, especially now. My body ached everywhere – the only thing keeping me going was my rage.

"It's just that I'm worried. We had a big blow out over dinner and he stormed out of the house..." Ginny began.

And that was all I heard. Her boring love trials were the perfect recipe to lull me back into sleep. I didn't rouse until twenty minutes later. I was still on the phone and Ginny was still talking.

"I think you're right that I'm overreacting, Vic. Thanks for listening to me – this really helped."

"Happy to help," I said and hung up the phone. That was possibly one of the best conversations with my sister I had ever had.

Outside it was dark, so I flicked on a light that was sitting on my nightstand. The two hours of sleep felt more like two minutes. I pulled myself out of bed and washed my face in the bathroom. I didn't have the energy to shower. Instead, I just scrubbed off my makeup and replaced it with a thicker and more exaggerated layer. I figured the post coital look might work for me in this situation, so I wore my hair down and curly. The wardrobe was tricky, but after some debate, I decided on a pair of tight jeans and a low-cut top. I pulled an extra-padded push-up bra out of my drawer and pulled my top down to expose some of the gold lace.

I dangled a gold necklace in my cleavage because I wanted to draw the attention to my chest instead of my stomach. I looked in the mirror and examined my appearance – not bad.

At ten o'clock sharp, I walked out to the curb. Mac was already there and I jumped in.

"Whoa," Mac said, looking at me.

"Too much?" I asked.

"No you look hot. You think you can pull this off?"

"I have to. This guy could be a killer – I can't afford to make a mistake."

"Isn't it amazing what we'll do to get the shot?" Mac asked.

"Stupid is more the word."

We pulled away from the curb and headed towards the track. It was late, and traffic was relatively light. I stared out the window trying to get my nerves under control, watching the street lights pass overhead.

We got onto the 101 Freeway and headed south. I looked at the cars next to me as we drove. In this town nine-to-five jobs were not common, and despite the late hour, most of the people were on their way home from work.

Mac and I didn't know every step we were going to take, but we knew Mac needed to stay hidden. He would wire me for sound and then he'd move to the top of the canyon for his shots. Mac had picked up a special lens with a powerful zoom, and he assured me he'd be able to get decent footage. The downside to our plan was that Mac would be far away from me, so if anything happened he wouldn't be able to do much. We agreed that if things got out of hand, we would call the cops. We also agreed that "calling the cops" meant calling 911, not Foxy and Reid.

I decided to take a step back from the situation and take a breath. I knew that Mac and I were probably being overly dramatic – it was a hazard of our trade. These were just a bunch of guys racing cars for money. No big deal. Kitt might not even remember me. Or he might kick me out right away – I was sure he wouldn't want to associate with a friend of the police.

We pulled up the canyon and got out of the car. We wanted to survey the scene to see if Kitt was even there. Mac handed me a pair of binoculars while he checked out his long-range lens.

"Nice," Mac said. "This lens will work great."

"Do you see Kitt?" I asked.

Mac scanned left and right then stopped. "Oh yeah, he's here." Mac pointed down below. Kitt was wiping his car down with a rag. "Looks like he either just raced or he's getting ready for one," Mac said.

"Okay, drive me down there, will ya?" I asked.

"Fine. Lift up your shirt," Mac said.

I gave him a sideways glance, then turned around and lifted my shirt halfway. He clipped the microphone's receiver to the inside of my pants and I jumped – it was ice cold. Next Mac dropped the mic wire down the front of my shirt and threaded it around my waist and into the receiver. He clipped the lavaliere microphone between my breasts on my bra and secured a special wind screen to it so it wouldn't pick up too much feedback from my shirt rustling against it. At the end of the whole thing, I felt like I needed a cigarette. A few gentle strokes in the right places and I was putty in Mac's hands.

"Is that the Wonder Bra?" Mac asked, smiling.

I blushed. "You're supposed to keep this professional, Mac. Just get in and out – no funny business."

"Sorry, I just noticed it when I was clipping the lav," Mac grinned.

I punched him in the arm and readjusted my shirt. "Okay, let's go."

We jumped in the car and headed down to the track. We parked a good distance away so that no one would see me getting dropped off. Mac had also placed a speaker in my ear so that he could talk to me and let me know if he could see any imminent danger. It was small, but I had to make sure my hair covered it just in case. The last thing I wanted was for Kitt to find a bug.

I walked towards the truck while Mac headed back up the canyon. "Can you hear me, Sharpe? Testing," Mac said into the speaker in my ear.

"Yes, I can," I whispered. "Don't talk unless you have to – I don't want anyone to hear you."

"Roger," Mac said.

I felt safer having Mac in my ear. I started to pretend that I was on a secret mission for the government and I had to fulfill it no matter the cost. I pumped myself up pretending that I was a badass chick who would take no prisoners.

As I got closer I saw a bunch of people standing around, smoking cigarettes and drinking beers. This was definitely not my crowd. All of my toughness drained out of me, and I suddenly felt very stupid dressed the way I was.

"He's just past the group, Sharpe. Don't show fear, keep moving," Mac said in my ear.

"Shh!" I whispered and pressed on. I spotted Kitt at his car. The front hood was up and he was working on the engine with a wrench. I breezed past the group of smokers without making eye contact. I was a woman on a mission. As I passed I could feel their stares, and I cringed when I imagined what was going through their minds.

Kitt was alone when I walked up to his car. He was bent over, leaning inside, and didn't see me. "Hi," I said timidly.

He closed the car hood and looked up at me. A slow smile crept across his face. "Couldn't stay away, huh?"

I smiled demurely – not sure what to say and feeling like a complete fool.

Kitt walked towards me and looked me up and down slowly. "No suit tonight?"

"Oh," I stumbled, "that was just because we had to tell Chaser's mother that he was...that he passed away. I couldn't wear jeans, you know?"

"How'd she take it?" he asked.

I knew this was privileged information and cursed myself for having such a big mouth but I couldn't stop now. "She didn't care," I said flatly.

Kitt laughed. "Special. So what are you doing here, dollface?"

"I wanted to see you race." I smiled, attempting to flirt.

Kitt ran his finger down my necklace, stopping just before my mouth parted. I must have been good at this flirting thing, because he seemed to get the message right away. Maybe I would go into undercover work after the show.

"You just missed it, honey. I'm done for the night."

"Did you win?" I asked.

"Course I did." Kitt stared at me for a while, thinking. "Baby, you may think you like to watch, but I'll do you one better. Ride with me." Kitt reached behind his back and opened the passenger door.

"Really?" I said. I was genuinely excited and couldn't hide it very well.

"Get in," Kitt said.

I turned and jumped in the passenger's seat before he could change his mind. Kitt slid in through the driver's side window and within minutes, he was revving his engine. He was still wearing that silver necklace and, just like my necklace flaunted my chest, his necklace certainly flaunted his. He wore a faded plaid shirt that was open except for the bottom two buttons. On his legs he wore a pair of tight black jeans with rips at the thighs. On his left hand he had a silver ring shaped like a snake and another one that looked like it probably held cocaine or something. The fingers on his right hand each had a tattooed letter on them: S-P-E-E-D.

"You like to go fast?" Kitt asked me.

"Yes," I said breathlessly. I was intimidated by his big engine, his tattoos and everything about him. But when the engine turned over, all my fears went out the window – I just wanted to drive...now.

Kitt put the car in gear and floored it. He fishtailed out as we took off at top speed. I was pinned to my seat – terrified yet exhilarated. We came to the first turn but Kitt didn't turn – he stayed straight. The wall was getting closer and closer and I was sure we were going to crash. I realized I didn't have my seatbelt on – was he trying to kill me? "Turn!" I squealed.

Kitt turned the wheel hard and we banked to the left – just skirting the wall. He looked so calm and cool. I watched as the muscles on his arm tensed as he shifted the cars gears. He flexed his fingers on the wheel – confident and fearless.

He looked at me. "Let me show you what this baby can do." He shifted gears and pumped the gas even harder. I looked at the speedometer and saw we were approaching two hundred miles an hour.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed and was pinned against the seat. I felt like I was in one of those anti-gravity rides that they have at amusement parks – I couldn't move. All I could do was take it in – take in the rush. I could see why he liked doing this; it was amazing.

We took another lap around the track. I was getting better control of myself under the intense speeds and was able to look around a little more. I watched as Kitt's hands moved between the gearshift and the wheel, maneuvering such a powerful car, making it do whatever he wanted. His hand traveled off the gearshift and onto my leg. I tensed up, not sure what to do in this situation. This guy was bad news, so why was I getting butterflies in my stomach?

Kitt slammed on the breaks and we spun out, doing a complete 360 before coming to a stop. I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe – all I could do was feel the rush through my body. When we finally stopped I was panting and shaking. The adrenaline was pulsing through me and it felt amazing.

"Sharpe – you there? You all right?" I hear Mac into my ear. I instantly snapped back into reality.

Kitt slowly turned to me, a grin forming at the edges of his mouth. "You like?" he asked.

"Yeah." I whispered, answering both Kitt and Mac at the same time.

"You should see me off the track," Kitt whispered. He gave me a look that told me he was going to make a move on me. I got scared and looked away. This wasn't me, I couldn't play _this_ role. How had I gotten myself into this situation and how the hell would I get out?

Suddenly, I felt the passenger's side door being wrenched open. I turned and saw Rose holding the door handle and glaring at us. My eyes widened.

"Having fun?" she asked me.

I felt scared but also relieved that she had interrupted us. I took the opportunity to jump out of the car.

"What the hell you doing, Rosey?" Kitt asked.

"You can tell your cop friends to stay the hell away from me – I'm not talking," Rose barked at me.

"Okay," I said. "But just know that not talking to them means you have something to hide. They don't have a lot of suspects in this thing..."

"Sharpe!" Mac said in my ear.

I closed my mouth quickly, realizing my mistake.

"I don't give a shit what those pigs think," Rose snarled at me.

"Right, yeah, me neither," I said, trying to sound tough but ending up just sounding stupid. I looked at Kitt. "Thanks for the ride."

Kitt turned to Rose. "Shit, Rose, now she's leaving me sitting here with blue balls – me and the broad were just about to go at it!"

Fear shot through me as I heard his words – had he really thought we were about to have sex? I tried to look casual as I walked away, but panic set in, and I started speed walking off the track. When I was far enough away, I spoke into my lavaliere. "Mac – can you come get me?"

"I'm sending someone down – I'm still shooting Rose and Kitt," Mac said.

"What are they doing?" I asked.

"Looks like they're arguing. I should have given you a bug to plant in his car, but I didn't think you'd get in there that easily."

"I'm just glad I got out. Wait a minute – who are you sending down to get me?"

Mac was silent for a moment.

"Mac?"

"Detective Reid," he finally answered.

My heart sank. "What?"

"I guess we weren't the only ones who were staking this place out tonight."

"Is he pissed?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah."

I could see a car heading towards me with the lights turned off. As it got closer I could see it was Reid. He was alone and looked very angry. He rolled down the passenger's window and glared at me. "Get in."

I took a deep breath and headed to the car. I decided that I had done nothing wrong here – it was a free country and I was entitled to fraternize with whomever I wanted. I opened the car door and hopped inside. The interior light came on and I could see Reid's angry eyes. I pulled the door closed, and we headed up the canyon.

I decided to break the ice. "Funny seeing you here, Detective."

Reid shook his head. "I don't even know what to say to you. There are just no words."

"Okay, good. I was worried you were going to yell at me."

Reid slammed on the brakes and stared at me. "I _am_ going to yell at you, Sharpe! What the hell were you thinking?! That man is a suspect in a murder investigation – don't you get that? I mean, are you really that hard up?"

"Wait a minute, Buster, I am not _hard up_. Do you really think I was down there to get a date?"

"That's how it looked to me," Reid answered.

"I was trying to solve this crime, damn it!" I said. "You two certainly aren't making any headway and somebody had to do something. I got more information from that guy in five minutes that you got in three hours!"

"Sharpe! Shut up!" I heard Mac say in my ear. I didn't need Mac to tell me that – I knew I had said too much because Reid's eyes flared.

"So you were deliberately interfering with a police investigation? I should lock your ass up! How's it gonna look for _my_ career if you end up his next victim? Will getting your story matter then?"

I pursed my lips. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I made a mistake."

Reid shook his head, trying to calm down. "What do you see in a guy like that anyway?"

"Nothing," I said. "I was just playing a part."

I knew what I had done was foolish, but I still had to congratulate myself on pulling it off. Kitt had believed I was interested in him, and I had gained his trust. I didn't know where it would lead or if I even had the nerve to be alone with him again, but still, I was a damn fine actress. My mother would be proud.

We got to the top of the canyon and I saw Foxy and Mac standing on the edge. Mac was still filming and Foxy was smiling. Reid and I got out of the car and approached them.

Foxy looked me up and down and shook his head. "Whoa, Sharpe, you are nuts, girl."

I ignored his comment and looked down the canyon at Kitt's car. "What's going on down there?"

"She's finishing him off," Foxy said. "I guess it wasn't true love."

"What?" I said. I pushed Foxy out of the way and grabbed the binoculars out of his hands.

Rose and Kitt were both in Kitt's car. She was straddled over him in the driver's seat, and I was pretty sure she wasn't wearing anything from the waist down.

"What a pig!" I said.

Reid's anger finally broke as his mouth opened into a wide smile.

"I can't believe that blue balls line worked on her. I thought that was just a b.s. line guys gave in high school!" I whined.

Reid started laughing aloud. Foxy and Mac joined him.

"Oh shut up!" I told them.

### Chapter 7.

Before we parted ways, the four of us agreed that we would share information with each other from now on. After all, we were all on the same team. I knew the guys weren't thrilled at the prospect of having to divulge everything to me, but that concern was outweighed by their fears about what I might do if left unsupervised.

Mac dropped me off at the production office so I could pick up my car, and I sped all the way home.

That night I relaxed in my bathtub. I should have gone straight to bed, but my mind was racing and I wanted to try to get my thoughts together. I needed to get a look at the tapes from the racetrack – not just to reconfirm what a fool I was, but also because I thought there might be something on there that would give me a clue. I had asked Mac to turn them over to me at the end of the night, but I didn't have a Beta deck at home to play them on. I had to keep reminding myself that I was getting too worked up – this was very likely just a hit-and-run. Yet somehow I knew it wasn't. The paint chips on the victim in two colors and his connection to car racing were too big of a coincidence to ignore. There was something there – I just couldn't put it together yet.

*****

Overnight, I had that horrible recurring dream from high school that I forgot to get dressed and came to school naked. I awoke panicked and shivering. The dream seemed so real, so vivid. I looked down at my legs to see they were bare and submerged in water. I gasped when I realized I had fallen asleep in my bath tub and was now a human, frozen prune! I was freezing and disoriented. I quickly drained the water and threw my robe on to get some warmth. I turned the shower to scorching hot and jumped inside as soon as the cold water had drained. I blasted my skin with the heat. My lips were blue and my teeth were chattering.

"Really good, Vicky!" I chided myself between shivers. I had no idea how long I had been sleeping, all I knew was that I needed to get warm fast.

Twenty minutes later, my limbs were back to their normal transparent coloring, and I was finally feeling warm. I stepped out of the bathroom in my robe and walked over to my alarm clock. It was 5:32 AM. I felt the anger boil up inside me as I thought about the hours of sleep I could have gotten had I fallen asleep properly in my bed. Now I was wide awake and it was three hours before my call time.

The tapes were still nagging at me so I decided to throw some clothes on and head down to the station. Manny had set up a playback deck in the observation room between the two interrogation rooms. I knew that at this hour, I would be able to watch my Beta tapes undisturbed.

I pulled into the station around 6:15. The night crew was still on – they would switch shifts at 7:00 AM. I breezed past the cop at the front desk and headed inside.

As I entered I saw that the place was empty with two exceptions – a night-shift detective sitting at his desk watching a movie and Detective Reid, who lay face first on a stack of files – passed out. I walked towards him quietly until I was standing right next to him. I looked down at his face. He looked so peaceful without his usual scowl. I watched him as he breathed in and out, his body rising and falling. I'd always thought there was something special, something intimate about watching another person sleep, and I enjoyed looking down at him.

Suddenly Reid's hand reached out and grabbed my wrist. I jumped. "What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded with eyes opened wide.

I pulled away from his grip. "Don't do that to me! I thought you were asleep." I was shaking. "I've had enough scares already today!"

Reid sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Pregnancy?"

"No, you idiot, I fell asleep in the bathtub. I woke up half-frozen in fifty degree water."

Reid's lips began to curl at the edges.

"Don't you dare start laughing. Just go back to sleep – I'll wake you at eight. Or, better yet, go take a shower."

"Not until you tell me why you're here. Planning to snoop through my files?"

"That's funny, Reid. No, I want to watch last night's tapes."

"Oh, I see, you want to see what you did wrong, right? Why he ended up with another girl instead of you."

My eyes narrowed. "Watch it, Detective. You're starting to get on my nerves."

I walked into the observation room and Reid went back to whatever he was working on. I popped the Beta tape into the cassette deck and pressed play. I turned the lights off so I could see the screen better and rest my eyes in the process. I couldn't handle fluorescent lighting this early.

I watched as I approached Kitt on the track and spoke to him. The audio came through. I heard Kitt ask me, " _So what are you doing here, dollface?_ "

" _I wanted to see you race_."

" _You just missed it, honey_. _I'm done for the night_."

The images looked pretty good – it looked like Mac was much closer than he actually was. Next I watched as Kitt and I sped in the Spyder around the track. We really were going fast. I could hear the pounding of my heart coming through the microphone, and I instantly got another rush from the speed.

Next, I watched and listened to the silence as Kitt prepared to make his move on me – I saw Rose approaching the side door of the car.

As Rose opened Kitt's car door, the door knob to the control room turned as well – I jumped. I couldn't find the stop button in the darkness, so I stood up and blocked the screen with my body as Reid walked in.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"I'd like to look at the tape."

"No, I don't think so."

Behind me I could hear my audio coming through as I spoke to Rose. "Just know that not talking to them means you have something to hide. They don't have a lot of suspects in this thing..."

Reid raised an eyebrow. I turned and managed to stop the tape. "I don't remember hearing you knock," I told him.

"I thought we agreed to share what we knew – wasn't that what we said?" Reid asked.

"You just want to embarrass me."

Reid moved close to me in the darkness. "I'd like to watch the tape, Sharpe."

"Fine," I said. "But don't you dare give commentary."

We watched the tape together from the beginning. When we got to the part where the car spun around and my heart was beating out of my chest, I turned my back to the screen. "I can't watch this again." I could feel my face turning red as I remembered how stupid I had been to flirt with a bad guy.

" _You like?_ " I heard Kitt say on the monitor.

" _Yes,_ " I whispered back.

"Okay, this is what I wanted to see," Reid said.

I turned around in a fury. "What kind of pervert...?"

"Shut up, Sharpe." Reid said. I looked at the screen to see that Mac had zoomed out to a wide shot of the track. Reid pointed to a car pulling up in the distance on the screen. "He got it." Reid looked at me. "From the angle we were at, Foxy and I couldn't see the car Rose pulled up in."

We watched Rose walk out of the vehicle and storm towards Kitt and me. She was not the driver. We couldn't see the driver's face, but we could make out that it was a man.

My eyes suddenly widened. "Reid!"

He was already nodding. It was dark, but even in the darkness, we could see that the car Rose pulled up in was two-toned – yellow and black.

"Bingo!" Reid said. "Can you zoom in on this – try to get the plate?"

"Not here – but we can upload it digitally at the office and then zoom in. I'll have Mac run it over as soon as he gets in."

Reid looked at me and smirked. "See? You're not totally useless."

"Useless? I practically cracked this case!"

"I wouldn't start popping champagne, but it's a good start."

I was so excited I could barely contain myself. I wanted to jump up and hug Reid, but I knew we still had lots of work to do and there were no guarantees that this was our man. Still, it was a lead and I was the one who got it – with Mac's help of course.

"You busy later?" Reid asked me.

I felt my heart skip a beat. "Huh?" I realized I was sitting kind of close to him. Maybe like Kitt, he thought I was putting out strong signals. I'd have to be careful – I had no idea I was so alluring!

"I'm not asking you on a date, Sharpe, I'm asking you to go interview this guy with me – assuming we can pull those plates."

"Duh! I knew that's what you meant!" I said, a little too grandly. "I'm free later, of course."

"Good," Reid said, standing. He turned the door knob and turned to me. "I'm going home to take a shower. I'll see you in a couple hours."

As tired as I was, I felt totally refreshed and ready to take on the bad guys. It took a little time, but Reid was finally starting to realize that I was a useful ally.

*****

When Mac pulled in, I was standing in the parking lot waiting for him. I had already briefed him on the phone about the license plate, and he was excited to help. This was totally up his alley.

"I can see it now," Mac said. "And the Emmy for best documentary television program goes to..."

"I know. We keep this up and you and I can retire from TV and transition to secret agents," I said.

"I like it," Mac said. "I'll wear a tux and go undercover in Monte Carlo. " He winked at me, jumped in the SUV and took off.

I turned to walk back into the station when I saw Rose approaching me. It was nine in the morning, but she was dressed in skintight black vinyl pants and a black and gold corset top that squeezed her in all the right places. She had a beige pashmina draped over her shoulder – a fruitless attempt to look dignified in a place of law. My guess was that she was out late last night and, instead of changing after the club, she came straight here. I was wearing a meager pair of blue jeans with a t-shirt that said "California" on it. I had thought I looked okay when I left my apartment this morning, but now I was rethinking that.

Rose walked right up to me. She looked like she was going to hit me or something, but there was no time to run. I had to face her.

"You seem to be everywhere I am lately," she said to me. Her bright red lipstick was smeared, probably from her late-night make-out session with Kitt.

"What are you doing here, Rose?" I asked.

"I came to talk to your friends. Alone."

She pushed past me, and I followed her inside. I signaled to the front desk officer that she was okay to enter. We walked into the war room, where she spotted Foxy sitting at his desk.

Rose turned to me. "Where's the other one?"

"He's home, taking a shower."

"Too bad. I got all dressed up for him." Her eyes narrowed. "I figured since you tried mine, I could try yours."

"Detective Reid isn't mine, we just work together. Besides, he wouldn't be interested in consorting with a murder suspect," I countered.

Foxy stood up from his desk and walked towards us. Rose leaned into me. "We wouldn't be consorting, honey – we'd be fucking. His big hands on my breasts, in between my thighs..."

Now I was getting mad. She was crazy if she thought she was going after Reid. Even if he wasn't mine, she thought he was, and I didn't like her talking about him like that. I didn't like violence, but this chick was getting me really worked up. I was two seconds away from grabbing her hair when Foxy walked over to us.

"Sharpe, I think I can take things from here. Rosario, how can I help you?"

"You can start by telling your girl here to stay the fuck away from me," Rose spat.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm trying to help find your boyfriend's killer," I corrected. "Although you didn't seem too broken up about it last night when you were going after my sloppy seconds!"

"Wait, I thought nothing happened?" Foxy said, looking uncomfortable.

"It didn't," I said. "But he wanted me."

"Ha!" Rose laughed. "You couldn't handle him."

Manny, who was sitting at our crew desk, jumped up and came over. "Hey, can I help over here? More to the point, can I get in between you two while you go at it?"

"Shut up, Manny!" I said.

"Thank you Vicky, that'll be all," Foxy said, dismissing me with his glare. I backed off and Manny walked me outside.

"Why you getting so heated, chica?"

"She was just saying stuff about Reid."

"You've got the hots for him, right?" Manny asked.

"No. Look – be quiet. A lot of stuff went on last night that you don't know about."

"Between you and the detective?"

"No, just forget it, okay? She's just pissed at me because I flirted with someone she liked."

"Not that crazy hot rodder, right, chica? Oh man – you went after that dude?"

I gave Manny a sneaky smile.

"Oh baby, you are bad! Whoo, sexy!"

*****

Rose was in the interrogation room smoking a cigarette. Foxy grabbed Manny and me so we could sneak into the viewing room unnoticed. He had called Reid, who had said he'd be down in fifteen minutes. Foxy decided to wait, knowing that he could get more out of Rose if he and Reid played off each other.

Once Reid arrived, he walked directly into the interrogation room with Foxy following behind him. He had showered and changed into a pair of dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and a light black leather jacket. He fit the part of the tough cop perfectly – down to his black leather boots. It was summer in LA, but no one dressed for the weather. People wore whatever they felt like – a tank top, a sweater – either would be acceptable on a hot, sunny day.

Reid and Foxy offered Rose a coffee, which she declined. They were being nice to her for now, trying to figure out what she knew.

"We're glad you came down, Rose," Foxy said.

"I might not have if I knew that she-devil was gonna be here. You know she came down on my turf last night, right?"

"Yes she mentioned something about that," Foxy said.

"She told me that I'm your only suspect. That you think I killed Chaser."

I could see the surprise on Foxy's face. "Bam!" I said to Manny in the viewing room. "I am awesome at this, aren't I? I must have scared the hell out of her and now she's talking. I wish Mac were here."

"What the hell went on last night?" Manny asked.

"Shh, I'm listening," I said, turning back to the window.

Reid leaned in to Rose. "Convince us that you are not responsible for Chaser's death."

"I didn't do it, okay?" Rose said. "I could never do that."

"Do you know who did?" Foxy asked.

"Could be anyone," Rose said.

"Do you want to help us find Chaser's killer, or do you want to keep playing games?" Reid asked.

"The only games I play are in bed, Detective," Rose said, giving him her most sultry eyes.

I shuffled in my seat. "Slut," I said under my breath.

"Are you sexually involved with anyone right now, Rose?" Reid asked.

"Not right now," Rose said, staring at Reid and licking her lips. She let the beige shawl fall off her shoulders, revealing the gold and black corset beneath. Her breasts were amazing.

"Oh man! Look at that shit! I would die to be in there right now!" Manny said to me.

Foxy and Reid exchanged glances. "Were you sexually involved with anyone other than Chaser at the time of his death?" Foxy said.

"Maybe once in a while. Not everyone's perfect – I've got an addiction, a sex addiction."

"Sweet Jesus!" Manny shouted. He said it so loud that Rose actually heard him.

"Is someone listening to us?" she asked.

"Are you prepared to talk to us on the record?" Foxy said, changing the subject. "Is that why you're here today or just to flirt with Detective Reid?"

"A little of both," Rose said demurely.

"We'd like you to sign some paperwork waiving your Miranda rights. Would you be willing to do that?" Foxy asked.

Rose looked from one detective to the next. "Sure – I've got nothing to hide."

"Excuse us for a minute," Reid said, and he and Foxy walked out of the room. A minute later the door to the observation room opened. Foxy looked in at me. "You shouldn't have told her she was our number one suspect – but it got her in here. Nice work."

I smiled in return and nudged Manny on the shoulder. "See?"

"And you," Foxy said to Manny, "keep your voice down."

Foxy and Reid returned to Rose's holding room with the paperwork. She signed it, agreeing to speak to them without a lawyer present, and understood that she was being recorded. Manny and I let the cameras roll, or, more to the point, we continued rolling. Rose had already signed my release, and I was following a different set of rules.

Reid placed a recording device on the table and pressed record. He didn't need to – we had the room wired for sound, but I think he wanted to feel like he was still running this show.

"State your name for record," Reid said.

"Rosario Ortez."

"Are you a citizen of the United States?" Foxy asked.

Rose's smile dropped. "Why are you asking that?"

"It's routine," Foxy said.

"Listen, if you guys are gonna try to pull some immigration shit on me, I can leave now," Rose said, standing.

"No one is calling immigration," Reid said lazily. "Sit down." Rose hesitated, and then sat.

"Tell me about Chaser – how did you meet?" Foxy asked.

"At the track. When I was a kid in Mexico, my cousins used to race cars, and I always felt safe there. When I came here I started hanging around the track, watching the races. Chaser and I got to talking and well, you know how it goes," Rose explained.

"How long did the two of you date?" Foxy asked.

"Couple months – I don't know."

"Did you love him?" Reid asked.

Rose was a little shocked by the question. Her eyes darted around the room. Finally she answered. "Yes, I did."

"What did Chaser do for money?" Foxy asked.

"Odd jobs," Rose said.

"Did he also make money racing cars?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

"Was he involved in drugs – either buying or selling?" Reid asked.

"No," Rose said quickly. "Chaser was clean. He hated that shit."

"We found marijuana in his home when we searched it," Reid said.

"That's not a drug, that's just a cigarette. I'm talking about the hard stuff."

"How often did he race?" Foxy asked.

"Usually twice a week."

"Did he just race at the Oxnard track, or did he race someplace else?"

"Just the Oxnard track," she said.

"Was Kitt a close friend to Chaser?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, they were pretty tight."

"Were you sleeping with Kitt while you were dating Chaser?" Foxy asked.

"No," Rose said sternly.

"So last night was the first time you fucked him, right?" Reid asked.

"That's right, Detective." He was trying to rattle her, but it didn't work.

"That's not what he told us – he said he's been with you dozens of times."

Rose's eyes widened. "That's between him and me."

Reid stood up. "Don't bullshit us, all right? If you're lying about this, how do we know you're being truthful about anything else?"

Rose leaned forward. "My sex life has nothing to do with Chaser's death."

"Did Kitt kill Chaser?" Reid said flatly.

"What? No!" Rose said.

"Is that why you were screwing his brains out last night? As a thank-you? Or do you expect us to believe that you were grieving your boyfriend's death? The body's barely cold, Rose," Reid snarled.

I would have to bleep out some of the profanities but this was still good stuff.

Rose stood up. "I _was_ grieving – different people deal with stress in different ways. Kitt had no reason to kill Chaser – this is stupid."

"Did they race against each other?" Foxy asked.

"Sometimes."

"Did Chaser owe Kitt any money?" Foxy asked.

"No."

"Who do you think did it, Rose?" Reid asked her.

"I don't know. It was probably just an accident."

"How did you get to the track last night?" Reid asked.

"I got a ride with a friend."

"Are you and this friend sexually involved?" Reid asked.

"Sometimes. I told you, I have a sexual addiction."

"We'll need the name and address of the person you were riding with," Foxy said.

"Why?" Rose asked.

"We need to exhaust all options. What was the driver's name?"

"Jaeger."

"What's his real name?" Foxy asked.

"I don't know. You're not going to tell him you got his address from me, right?" Her voice broke as she spoke.

"Not if you don't want us to," Foxy said.

Rose gave them the address, and Foxy jotted it down. She explained that Jaeger was another racer from the track – he knew Chaser, but they weren't as close as Chaser and Kitt.

They interviewed her for over two hours, and by the end, she looked run ragged. The cops left things open with Rose, and she agreed that they could call her if they thought of any more questions.

Rose stood up to leave the room, but before she could, Reid placed a hand on her wrist.

"If I find out Jaeger was tipped off that we're coming after him, my first call is to the INS. You got me?"

Rose yanked her hand away from him and stormed out of the room. Manny watched Rose walk out and then turned to me. "You think that sex addict thing is true?"

I shrugged. "Could be. I worked on a show about sex addicts – they usually come from screwed up families and use it to feel loved."

"I could make her feel loved." Manny stood up. "Um, Sharpe, I'm going to go take a pee break, okay?"

Manny opened the door and ran out while Reid popped his head in. "Did Mac call with the plate yet?"

I handed him a slip with the numbers written on it. He took it and carried it back to his desk, where he plugged it into the computer. I walked over to him with the PD-150 camera rolling.

"Is it coming up?" I asked.

Reid turned to me and frowned when he saw the camera. "Come on, Sharpe."

"I have to, I'm sorry. Did it come up?"

"Yeah." Reid pointed to his computer screen. "The owner is Justin Jaeger. The address on file matches what Rose gave us."

"So now we go shake him up?" I asked, focusing the camera on Reid's face.

Reid rolled his eyes and looked back at his computer. "Yes Sharpe, now we get this guy."

"Okay, great. Can you just wait for Mac to get back before we nail him?"

*****

Twenty minutes later, Reid, Foxy, Mac, and I headed out of the building and into the parking lot. As we approached our van, I could see Manny leaning against it smoking a cigarette. Luckily, it was a Marlboro instead of the funny kind.

"That sex addict shit's for real," Manny said. "She said she needed to work some stress off." He had a huge grin on his face.

Reid was flabbergasted. "Are you serious? First this one throws herself at a suspected killer," he said pointing to me, "and now you're sleeping with one?" He threw up his hands. "Am I in the twilight zone? These are murder suspects!"

Manny looked at me. "Girl, you gotta fill me in on last night."

"She doesn't have to – it's on video tape," Foxy said.

"Say what?" Manny asked, his pitch elevated.

"All right, everyone, calm down," I said. "Let's just focus, all right? Manny and Mac, you take the SUV, and I'll go with the cops. Let's go!"

We split apart, but not before I saw Manny grab Mac's arm and whisper, "I need details, bro."

I blew out a breath, then followed Reid and Foxy to their car.

*****

Inside the car we were all silent. The interior camera was rolling, but Reid and Foxy had nothing to say. I sat in the back, thinking about how this investigation was spinning out of control and how my team was probably doing more harm than good. I looked at Foxy and saw that he was grinning. "Why are you smiling?"

"Raow," Foxy said to me, imitating a cat. "Raow raow," He said again.

"Shut up, Foxy."

Reid looked at him. "Why are you meowing?"

"Sharpe almost got in a cat fight with Rose before." He turned to me pretending his hand was a paw and swatting it at me. "Cat fight."

Reid looked back at me. "That's smart, Sharpe. Maybe she can have her buddy Jaeger knock you off, too."

"Wanna know what they were fighting about?" Foxy continued.

"Let's just drop it, okay?" I said.

"You," Foxy said to Reid. "Rose thought you were Sharpe's boyfriend – that's why she was flirting with you in there."

"That's not why," Reid said abruptly.

"Yeah it was, dude. She wanted to invade Sharpe's territory like she invaded hers. If she thought I was Sharpe's boyfriend she would have been licking her lips at me."

Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his ego obviously bruised.

"Kinky, right? Sharpe told Rose that Kitt was her sloppy seconds – it was hilarious!"

"It was just a misunderstanding, that's all," I said.

Suddenly, Reid braked and pulled the car off the road. He turned around with anger in his eyes. "I said this was a bad idea from the beginning, and I meant it." He pointed a finger at me. "You meddle in my investigation again and you're off the case. You got me?"

"But what about..."

"No buts. One more screw-up and you're off," Reid said. His nostrils flared and his eyes were red with anger and exhaustion.

I nodded and he pulled the car back into traffic. He was right, of course, but working in television, I was used to a higher level of drama than he was. Someone getting killed wasn't enough – we needed to stir the pot. It was my instinct, and it was hard to go against it.

My cell phone rang, and I looked down to see that my mother was calling. I whispered into the phone. "I'm working, Mom, what's up?"

"So you are alive. I haven't heard from you in days – I wanted to know if I should start checking the hospitals," my mother chided. As an actress, she had a flair for the dramatic.

"I work with the police, Mom. If I was dead, they would have contacted you by now."

"Honey, I met the most amazing man for you in the florist shop yesterday. He was thirty-eight, never married and he works over at Sony."

"Mom, I don't have time for this now, okay?"

"You don't have time to talk to your own mother? Honey, why don't you come over for lunch? I haven't seen you in ages."

"I don't have time for lunch, we're working here," I whispered.

Foxy's ears perked up. "Lunch?"

I looked at him and shook my head but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "I could go for lunch before we bust this guy," Foxy said.

"My mom lives all the way out in Venice," I said, covering the phone.

"The perp lives in Playa Del Rey. It's like ten minutes away," Foxy said.

I wasn't thrilled about bringing these guys home to Mommy, but I relented. "Okay, Mom, we'll be there in twenty minutes. There are five of us. What are you gonna serve?"

My mother didn't cook, but she was excellent at ordering takeout. "What about French? There's that place down on the corner with those yummy croissants," she said.

"No way. These guys are blue collar – they don't want to eat that fancy stuff."

"We can hear you," Reid said.

We agreed to go with Chinese. There was this place called Chan's by my mom that served the best Chinese Chicken Salads. They were coated with candied ginger and a sweet dressing plus they were unhealthy enough that I knew the guys would love them. We also decided to order sesame chicken, beef and broccoli, egg rolls, moo shu pork and a bunch of other entrees just in case they didn't like the salads. My mom always got so excited about ordering because she had a gift for it. The best part was that I knew I would have leftovers for later. I felt like I hadn't eaten anything good in days. The burger and donuts were not exactly doing wonders for my digestive system or my waist line.

Even though it was silly, I was a little nervous about bringing the guys to meet my family. My parents were wealthy, and when people saw where they lived, sometimes they looked at me differently. Much like Reid didn't want his co-workers to know where he came from, I didn't like it either. Ginny took my parents' handouts all the time, but I insisted on supporting myself. I lived in a dump, but I was proud of it because it was paid for with money I made.

Mac had been to my parents' house before and I wasn't worried about Reid, but Manny and Foxy were wildcards. Sometimes the opulence could be intimidating. The house had a real wood-burning pizza oven in the kitchen, even though neither of my parents cooked. It had a lap pool on the rooftop and a garage with marble flooring. Plus there was the "arrangement" that my parents shared. They were divorced, but in typical Hollywood style, the divorce came with concessions. My parents were best friends and still lived together, but slept in separate bedrooms. My mother flirted with anything with a pulse while my dad chose to focus solely on his career as a set designer and his passion for sports cars.

Goofy as they were, it was nice to think that I would be on my home turf surrounded by people who loved and supported me. During this entire investigation I felt like I had no allies except Mac. Finally, I'd have people in my corner.

*****

My parents' house was along one of the Venice canals – a series of waterways named after the famous canals in Venice, Italy. Houses were connected by white arched bridges creating a picturesque town that was featured in just about every movie ever made. My parents' house was one of the gaudier ones, set in the Spanish style that was so popular in Los Angeles. The ceramic tile roofs kept the houses cool and gave you the feeling you were on vacation in Cabo San Lucas year round.

We stepped inside the house and were greeted by the wonderful aroma of Chan's Kitchen takeout. The front entryway led to a large living area to the left, which was connected to an even larger kitchen. The house was all earth tones, with stucco walls and cathedral ceilings. Looking up, you could see the "veranda," as my mother called it, that overlooked the first floor. The furniture was covered in rich textiles, and the floors were Spanish tile that were terrific for cooling your feet down. I kicked off my shoes and touched the cold ceramic.

"Whoa, nice digs," Foxy said looking around.

"My mom works in television," I explained.

We stepped into the living room, which doubled as a shrine to the various awards my mother had won over the course of her career. The pièce de resistance was an ornate shelf that reached up to the ceiling, filled with certificates and plaques and little gold statues. My mother was in the kitchen laying everything out on the table, and my Dad was in his usual spot on the couch.

"Hi, gorgeous," my Dad said, standing up to greet me.

"Hello, company!" my mom said as she walked into the room. She was tall and blonde and had been nipped and tucked in all the right spots. She had the look and presence of a celebrity, and when she entered the room, everyone turned. She was wearing a pair of pale blue Capri pants and a white blouse with a turquoise necklace. She wore oven mitts on her hands to give the illusion that she had just cooked. I knew no one would believe that she was a master Chinese chef or that she had plated everything in individual takeout boxes, but I loved her for trying.

In contrast to my TV-star mom, my Dad was a slender man, short and fragile. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore eyeglasses. He was the picture of an aging man and represented everything my mother was fighting so hard against.

I felt a hand touch mine and I turned to see it was Reid. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and gently pulled me back towards him. The back of my shirt was against the front of his and I could feel his mouth by my neck. I didn't know what he was doing but I wasn't going to fight it either. I felt his warm breath as he whispered into my ear, "Don't tell your mom about my parents, okay?"

I smiled and nodded. I hadn't planned to, but I did have a big mouth and it _was_ entirely possible that his father's connection to my mother might come out. Reid released my hand and I stepped forward, regaining my composure.

"Mom, Dad, this is Reid and Foxy – they're the detectives I'm working with. This is Manny, my sound guy, and you know Mac," I announced.

My mother walked up to Mac and kissed him square on the lips. "Hello, honey, how are you?"

Mac didn't look too shaken up by the kiss - he was used to it by now. "I'm keeping busy." He turned to my dad, who was still holding his magazine. "Any good ones in there?"

"Nothing but Japanese soap boxes," my dad said.

Reid held out a hand to shake my mom's hand, but she went in for the hug. I breathed a sigh of relief that it was just a hug until she started stroking his chest.

Reid looked over at me. "Does your mom always pat down house guests?"

"Mom, please stop," I said.

"Well, aren't you a hunky little thing," she said to Reid, releasing her grip.

"You're that host, right? From _LA Incorporated_?" Reid asked.

My mother beamed. "Yes, that's me – Evelyn Sharpe. I can't believe you recognize me." She leaned in to him, placing her hand on his chest again. "Please tell me you've had a crush on me your whole life. I can make those childhood dreams a reality, you know."

Reid actually blushed and glanced at my Dad. "Uh, I don't want to get your husband jealous."

"Oh, don't worry about him – we have an arrangement. Right, Nick?"

My dad looked up. "Huh? Oh yeah, we're divorced – you can have her. I just live here because I like the neighbors."

Reid gave me a confused stare, and I shrugged my shoulders. Foxy approached my mother next. " _I've_ had a crush on you my whole life. Wanna get a room?" he said smiling.

"Don't do it, Mom, he's married," I warned.

She winked at him. "She's such a spoil sport, isn't she?"

Manny said his hellos to my mother and father, and then we all moved to the dining room.

I sat against the wall with Foxy to my left and Reid next to him. Across from me sat Mac and Manny, and my parents sat at the head and foot of the table.

"I recommend the salad," I said to the group.

"Get real, Sharpe," Foxy said, grabbing the beef with broccoli.

Mac grabbed a salad and poured it from the to-go container onto his plate. "I'll try it," he said.

"Such a nice man," my mom said, glancing at Mac. "Why haven't you two ever gotten together, Victoria?"

"Mom, come on."

My dad looked at Reid, who was taking some salad as well. "So, Detective Reid, how is my baby working out? Is she a big help to the team?"

Foxy choked on his broccoli. I kicked him under the table.

"Yes sir," Reid said politely. "She has a very unconventional approach to things, but I think we are starting to understand each other."

Reid looked down at me, and I smiled. It was a nice thing to say, even though I knew he didn't mean it.

Just then, I heard the front door open and close. "Mom, whose cars are those outside?" I heard my sister ask.

I froze in my chair. I had not counted on her being home. I figured she'd be out getting a colonic or acupuncture or something.

Ginny walked into the room and stopped when she saw me. "Oh, look at this, isn't this nice? Glad I was invited to the party."

"Sit down and join us," my mom said.

Manny looked at me. "Ay mamí – who is this?"

"She's getting married in a few days – back off," I whispered to Manny.

Ginny scanned the group and rested her eyes on Reid. She walked towards the table and leaned on the back of Manny's chair. Manny gave me an exaggerated smile while I squinted my eyes at him, giving him a warning.

"Who's this tall drink of water?" Ginny asked, staring at Reid.

Foxy giggled. "Oh man, here we go. Another chick invading her turf – Sharpe's gonna go ape shit."

I dug my nails into Foxy's leg and spoke evenly. "This is Detective Reid. Detective, this is my sister Ginny."

Ginny extended a hand across the table, revealing some cleavage in the process. "Wow, Detective. You can investigate me any day."

Reid looked at my mother and then over to me. "I think I know who she takes after."

Ginny sat down next to Mac and reached for a salad.

"You are getting married on Sunday, young lady," my dad chided.

"So? I can still flirt. There's nothing in the marriage vows about that," Ginny whined.

Manny turned to her. "Honey, if you need to sow your wild oats..."

"Manny!" I snipped.

I heard the front door open again, followed by the sound of feet shuffling. "Ginny – were you just gonna leave me out there?"

"Carrying things from the car is man's work," Ginny retorted, totally unconcerned.

Bob, my future brother-in-law, lumbered into the kitchen carrying several bags of birdseed. He was tall, a little heavy and balding a little too much for someone only in their late thirties. He wore glasses and a wrinkled beige suit. He dropped the bags on the counter with a thud. "Why couldn't we just get rice? It would weigh less," he asked Ginny.

"Rice kills birds, you dope – nobody throws rice anymore," Ginny replied.

Bob looked over at the table at the group that was assembled. He picked me out of the crowd and smirked. "Hey, Vapor-Rub – who are your friends?"

Bob had come up with the name "Vicky Vapor-Rub" for me, and every time he said it, I wanted to claw his eyes out. I usually called him Bobble-Head in reply, but given that we had guests, I decided not to stoop to his level. "Bob," I said calmly, "these are the people I've been working with. These are Detectives Reid and Flanagan and this is Mac, my camera op, and Manny, my sound op. Everyone, this is Bob, Ginny's fiancé."

Bob waved to us halfheartedly, then pulled out a beer from the fridge. He popped the top off and downed the entire thing in one sip. He followed it up with a loud belch.

I was starting to realize that my theory about the sanctity of my family home was a bunch of crap. I couldn't control this bunch no matter where I was.

"Okay, someone say it," Ginny ordered the group. "You want to know why we're getting married on a Sunday, right? You think we're cheap, right?"

"Gin, no one even knew it was on Sunday," I said.

"Yeah, right – Dad just announced it. He practically shouted it from the rooftops."

"No, I didn't," my dad said.

"Well, we're not cheap," Ginny continued. "In fact, my marriage is being officiated by Motgi Sanjeev, if you must know."

"Who's that?" Foxy asked.

Ginny looked shocked that he didn't know. "Bob, are you hearing this?"

"Huh?" Bob asked, joining us at the table holding his second beer.

"He's that life coach, right?" Mac said.

"He's a guru. Motgi has been my mother's personal guru for years, but ever since he consulted for the first lady, his schedule has been impossible. We had to arrange the whole wedding around him, but it's worth it."

"He is an inspirational man," my mother added.

I could see Reid smiling and shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. I knew my mother and sister were very Hollywood, and I wasn't going to make excuses for them. Instead, I changed the subject.

"So Dad, we're going to bust a guy after this," I said.

Bob let out a laugh.

"Aren't you working today?" I asked Bob, eyeing his beer.

"That sounds exciting, kiddo," my dad said. "What's the charge?"

Ginny chimed in. "Duh, Dad, the show is called _Murder Live!_ They're not busting him for a parking ticket."

"Wow – you're nabbing him for murder? That's big stuff, kid. But it's probably just another day at the office for you, right, Detective?" my dad said to Foxy.

"Pretty much," Foxy said. "But we still get a rush out of it. That's why I wanted to stall a little – you know, to prolong the excitement."

"He does the same thing with his bowel movements," Reid explained.

"Ouch! Burn!" Manny said.

"Wow, Reid, you made a joke," I said.

"Handsome and funny? Where do I sign up?" Ginny asked. Bob didn't seem to hear her comment; he was too focused on chewing the skin off the side of his finger.

I looked at Reid. "You are just eating this up, aren't you? First Rose, then my mother, now my sister."

"I don't mind it," Reid grinned.

"Rose and Ginny are only flirting to annoy me, so don't get too flattered, and my mom would hit on a homeless man."

"That's not true!" my mom said. "Well, if he was good-looking, maybe."

"Does it bother you when women flirt with me, Sharpe?" Reid asked playfully.

I pursed my lips. I couldn't believe this guy was getting cheeky with me. Worst of all, everyone was now silent and staring at me, including Bob. "It doesn't _bother_ me," I countered. "I just don't want you to get too big of a head."

"That's what she said!" Foxy and Bob both chanted in unison. Everyone burst out laughing and the two men exchanged a high five.

I could deal with Foxy messing with me, but I drew the line at Bob. I was about to tell him where he could stick his beer when the phone rang. My mother jumped up to answer it. She spoke softly with the person on the other end of the phone and quickly hung up. She turned to all of us, a smile slowly forming on her face. Finally she burst out, "I got hemorrhoids!"

Bob spit out some of his drink laughing, while my sister jumped up and hugged my mom. "Congratulations!"

In her older years, my mother had been earning a nice salary selling diabetes medications, adult diapers, and now hemorrhoid cream. She was particularly excited because she was a current customer of her new client, Burt's Hemorrhoid Cream. My mother used it daily under her eyes to reduce puffiness, and she swore by it.

I turned to Reid and Foxy. "It's for a commercial – she doesn't actually have hemorrhoids."

"Wonderful news, Evelyn," my dad said.

"A toast to the new face of ass cream!'" Bob called out, holding up his beer triumphantly. Foxy let out a laugh while everyone else turned and stared at Bob.

*****

An hour later, we pulled up in front of Jaeger's apartment complex. It was a medium-sized complex, similar to mine. It had about thirty units, and the parking lot was underground.

Mac filmed and Manny rolled sound as the detectives walked through the lot, looking for Jaeger's car. Finally, they spotted it. It had a yellow body with a black stripe stretching the length of the car from the hood to the back fender. I stood next to Mac and directed a question at the detectives.

"Do you think this could be the car that hit Chaser?" I asked.

"It could be," Foxy said. "We'll have to take a paint sample to see if it's a match."

Foxy bent down and scraped a tiny piece of yellow paint into a clear plastic bag. He did the same thing with the black paint. He held it up to the camera. "We'll have to get this down to forensics to examine."

Reid looked inside the car with a flashlight. He couldn't legally search the car without a warrant, but he wanted to see if there was anything in plain sight that would give him a clue. There were silver stars hanging from the rearview mirror. The interior looked a little beaten up, and the gear shifter had a pool ball on the top of it. We could see some mechanic's tools in the back seat but nothing particularly interesting.

"Let's go inside," Reid said.

The crew and I followed behind Foxy and Reid as they walked up the stairs from the underground garage to Jaeger's apartment. They knocked and waited.

We could hear some shuffling around inside, and a few minutes later, Jaeger came to the door. He was thin and shirtless, with one of those chests that had no hair except a black patch around the belly button. He wore black jeans and black leather bracelets on his wrists.

"Yeah, what?" Jaeger said. He was a car racer, but it seemed like he dabbled in other sports. He had the surfer-dude look down cold.

Reid and Foxy held up their badges. "Can we come in?"

"Who are they?" Jaeger asked, motioning towards my crew.

"We're making a documentary," I said. "Would you be willing to give your consent to appear on camera?"

"I'm gonna be on TV?" Jaeger said, brightening.

"Sure will," I said. I handed over a piece of paper. "Just sign here."

After Jaeger signed, the cops stepped inside. "You dudes want a drink or something?" Jaeger asked, rubbing his eyes. "I guess I fell asleep – waves were rough this morning." His words confirmed my surfer-dude suspicion – I definitely had a knack for this detective work.

The apartment consisted of a living room with wood floors that connected to a small kitchen. Mac set up a tripod in the corner of the living room so he could get the best angle. Manny decided to use the boom for sound. Unless he planned to clip the microphone to Jaeger's nipple, he would have trouble attaching the lavaliere to a shirtless man.

Jaeger grabbed a beer out of the fridge and took a sip. "So what's up?"

"What's up is that your friend Chaser is dead," Foxy said.

"That was like days ago, man. I already knew that," Jaeger said.

"We'd like to talk to you about his untimely death. Would you be willing to come with us to the station?"

Jaeger thought about that one. "Um, no, I'm good."

"Would you be willing to talk to us here, then?" Foxy asked.

Jaeger thought again. "Not much to say, really."

I saw Reid's eyes narrow. By now, I had gotten pretty good at anticipating when the bad cop persona would come out. "We have reason to believe you were connected with his murder. We can place you at the scene of the crime, and we have witnesses who will testify to that. Now would you like to start talking, or should I just put you in handcuffs?" Reid said with force.

Jaeger turned white. "Dudes, you got the wrong guy! Seriously!"

"Where were you on the night of Tuesday, July 7th?" Reid asked.

Jaeger's eyes went wide – he was thinking hard. I looked away, trying not to make eye contact. I didn't want him to suddenly remember we were filming and ask us to leave.

"I was working, I think. Wait, Tuesday? Yeah, I was working."

"Where do you work?" Foxy asked, holding his notepad.

"Down at Baja Taco," Jaeger said. "The one on Wilshire and Lincoln."

"Were there other people working there that night? People who can corroborate your story?" Foxy asked.

"Yeah, dude. I swear it. Ask for Terry – he worked that night too."

"What type of car do you drive, Jaeger?" Foxy asked.

"It's a Z."

"Did you have it with you on Tuesday night?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, dude, of course. Look, this is all a misunderstanding here."

Reid and Foxy threw a bunch of questions out at Jaeger, but they didn't come up with much. He knew Rose and Chaser from the track, but they weren't close friends. He had slept with Rose a few times, but "so had half this town." With the number of people saying Rose had slept with half this town, I was starting to believe it was true. Jaeger said he had come to the track the other night to watch a race, and Rose had asked to tag along. Rose had gone home with Kitt that night, and Jaeger hadn't spoken with her since.

As the questioning went on, Reid seemed to be getting increasingly annoyed. Finally, after twenty minutes, he stood up and glared at Jaeger. "Don't leave town, we'll be back."

With that, Reid and Foxy walked out. Mac quickly gathered up his camera and tripod, and he and Manny shuffled after them.

Outside I turned to Reid. "Why didn't you bust that guy?"

"On what – some paint samples that may not match?"

"You don't have to book him, just drag him in until he talks."

"Sharpe, we don't have any evidence here. Even if the paint chips match, that isn't enough. There are no witnesses and the guy has an alibi."

"So he says."

"Exactly. That's why we have to check it out. Come on, let's go," Reid said. We all piled into his car and headed off to Baja Taco. It was too bad we had just had lunch – a burrito was sounding pretty good right about now.

### Chapter 8.

In Los Angeles, the demand for Mexican fast food far surpassed the demand for American food. There was just something about warm weather and Spanish-tiled roofs that made you crave a taco. Plus with over fifty percent of the population Hispanic and a reputation for some of the best avocados it was easy to see why everyone in LA was all about Mexican.

Walking into Baja Taco, I couldn't help but get an instant craving for some chips and guacamole. I glanced over at Foxy and could tell that he was having the very same thoughts.

We were there to verify an alibi, but Manny had a different objective. He breezed past me and walked up to one of the female cashiers.

"Hola chica, que pasa?" Manny said.

I couldn't tell if he knew her or if he was just flirting, but the two of them chatted in Spanish for a while. I figured this was as good a time as any to get a location release and asked Manny to have the girl give it to her manager.

Two minutes later, an extremely tall Hispanic man with a beer belly stepped out of the back room. The cashier was still flirting with Manny and pointed over to the detectives and me when her manager looked at her.

The manager lumbered over to us, breathing heavily. His eyes traveled across each of us before finally settling on Foxy, a man of similar girth. "You wanna make a commercial or something?"

"No, pal, we're not making a commercial. We're shooting a TV show and we need you to sign a release that we can shoot here," Foxy said.

"What show?" the manager asked. Manny stepped away from the cashier and walked over to the manager. They had an exchange in Spanish that started off heated with raised voices and hand gestures, but by the end they were smiling and the manager was signing.

Manny walked over to me carrying the release.

"What was that about?" I asked pointing to the manager.

"We are passionate people," Manny explained.

I took the release and put it in my purse. Foxy opened up the line of questioning while Mac and Manny powered on their equipment and started rolling.

"Do you have an employee named Justin Jaeger?" Foxy asked.

"Yes." The manager nodded.

"Was he working here on Tuesday night?" Foxy asked.

The manager thought for a while. "Tuesday? Yeah, he was working the window. Is he in trouble?"

"No, of course not. Can you tell me what time he was here until?" Foxy asked.

"Shift's from six to two a.m. Jaeger likes it because he surfs at dawn then sleeps during the day."

"Do you know if he drove his car to work that day?"

"I guess he did, I don't know," the manager said.

"How long is his dinner break?" Foxy asked.

"Thirty minutes," the manager said. "I can check the time stamp to see when he took his break."

"That would be great," Foxy said.

Reid was frowning. This wasn't going well. A few minutes later, the manager confirmed that Jaeger took his break from ten to ten thirty.

The cops had estimated the time of death to be between six thirty and seven o'clock based on the time frame the neighbor referenced. If Jaeger was at work the whole time, there was no way he could have committed the crime.

Reid questioned another employee at Baja Taco, who also confirmed that Jaeger had worked on Tuesday night. He was not able to confirm that he took his car to work, however. It seemed like a long shot that someone stole Jaeger's car, ran down Chaser and then returned it untouched, but crazier things could happen.

The manager gave us a large bag of tortilla chips and we helped ourselves to the fresh salsa on the salsa bar. The cops went for the spiciest blend while I went for the pico de gallo.

We all gathered around a high-boy table and munched. I pushed the bag of chips over to Mac but he waved them away.

"You're not hungry?" I asked.

"We just had lunch. Plus I don't like to pollute my body with saturated fats. But you guys enjoy," Mac said.

Foxy raised an eyebrow. "Are you a fruit?"

"No, I just care about physical fitness and eating right. I could give you some tips if you wanted."

"Tip this," Foxy said, shoving some more chips into his mouth.

"That was a bust," I announced.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Reid said to me.

We all sat in silence, crunching our chips and thinking about what to do next.

*****

A while later we all headed out. It was around seven and the sun was setting. I had been thinking about Kitt, and there was something that was bothering me. I wanted to talk to Mac about it, but I didn't want Reid or Foxy to see me.

"Okay, well, good work, everyone. We will see you in the morning," I said. I turned and headed towards Mac's car. "I'll ride with you, Mac."

"Goodnight, guys," Mac said. Mac and Manny walked over to the SUV while Reid and Foxy headed over to their car.

Once we were in the car, Mac turned on the ignition. I sat in the front next to him with Manny in the back. I placed my hand over his.

"Wait." I was about to fill Mac in on my premonition when I remembered the stern warning Reid had given me. He told me if I meddled one more time I would be off the case. I shook my head and shut my mouth. I knew I couldn't do anything more behind Reid's back.

"What?" Mac asked.

"Never mind, I need to talk to Reid." I opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car.

"Detective Reid?" I called out, trying to catch him before he drove off.

To my surprise, he was waiting for me. "Came to your senses?"

"What?" I asked.

"By now I can read you pretty well, Sharpe. You know something that you're not sharing."

I smiled – he was right. "There's something that Kitt said that's been bothering me."

"I'm listening," Reid said.

"Do you remember on the tape how I told Kitt that I liked speed and he said I should see him off the track?"

"Yes."

"I'm just wondering if there is another place he races that might give us some clues."

Reid stared at me, shaking his head. "This is the most effort I have ever put into a hit-and-run, I want you to know that."

"It's not a hit-and-run. We both know that," I said.

Foxy was staring at us. "Would you two just do it and get it over with!"

I thought the comment was ill-timed as we were discussing a murder, but I had learned that Foxy lacked a certain amount of decorum.

Reid turned to Foxy. "Why don't you go home to your wife – you're getting punchy. I'll look into this."

"Hey, man, we're a team here," Foxy complained.

"I know, but this is probably a bust anyway. I'll call you if there's anything to it."

"Mac can give you a ride," I volunteered.

Foxy looked at me and then Reid. "I know what this is really about. Don't leave any bodily fluids in the back of the car, okay?"

I rolled my eyes, and Foxy headed towards Mac and Manny. I followed after him and grabbed the PD-150 plus an extra battery and cassette from the trunk. Foxy jumped in the front seat.

Mac turned to me. "Sharpe – what's going on?"

"Nothing, Mac, I'm just gonna ride home with Reid."

"Are you shooting something?" Mac asked, looking at my camera.

"Oh man, you're gonna videotape it? Kinky, Sharpe," Foxy said.

I knew his ego was a little bruised, so I let him have his fun with me. "Mac – it's just a precautionary measure. I'll see you guys in the morning, okay?" I closed the trunk and waved as Mac pulled the car away.

I returned to Reid holding my equipment. Reid took it from my hands and placed it on the back seat.

"Don't let him upset you with that bullshit about us screwing around, okay?" Reid said.

"Oh, I know. He's just blowing hot air anyway."

"Exactly." Reid said and held open the passenger door for me.

"Thanks," I said, jumping in the passenger seat.

Inside Reid cranked up the engine and called dispatch to get Kitt's address. He wrote it down on a piece of paper and thanked them.

"This is my first stakeout," I said. "Thanks for letting me come along."

"You're welcome. Don't make me regret it." Reid put the car in reverse, and we pulled out of the parking lot.

"So should we go to the store or something?" I asked. "On stakeouts you eat junk food and drink coffee, right?"

"You watch too many movies," Reid said.

"Well, we have to have something!" I said, sounding a little desperate. I had been eating nonstop all day, and I wasn't going to stop now. I was exhausted and my body needed the fuel.

"I'll tell you what – it's only seven. We have a few hours. Why don't I take you home so you can change and get something to eat?"

I looked down at my t-shirt and figured it would probably be a good idea to put long sleeves on. It might get cold. Plus I should probably dress in all black, in case we needed to hide in the darkness.

We drove to my place and Reid pulled up front. "I'll come back and get you in an hour," he said.

"You're gonna drive to Malibu? That's crazy. Why don't you just come inside? I can make us something for dinner."

"No, I don't want to impose."

"It would just be microwave pizza or something, Reid. It's not a big deal."

He finally relented and parked in front of a hydrant on the street. "That's abuse of power, Detective," I told him. "What if there's a fire?" Reid shrugged nonchalantly and stepped out of the car.

In the lobby I noticed that the outdoor chandelier needed some polishing and that some of the floor tiles were cracked. I would have to write a note to maintenance about this.

"Swanky, eh?" I said.

"Maybe a fire wouldn't be such a bad thing," Reid quipped.

"I grew up in a fancy house too, you know," I said, trying to justify my meager surroundings.

"I know that, Sharpe – I was there today."

"I'm just saying, you shouldn't judge me just because I live in the Valley."

Reid smiled. "Sharpe, relax."

We walked down an interior hallway and up to my apartment. I put the key in the door while visualizing the room – checking for dirty underwear or embarrassing photos that might be lying around.

I opened the door and quickly scanned the room. Everything looked okay, but I knew I wanted to shut the bedroom door. I had left in a whirlwind this morning between the freezing bath and my desperate need to look at that tape and I knew my room was a disaster.

"Come in," I said to Reid. I dropped my purse on the dining room table then glided over to my bedroom door to close it. "You can throw your jacket on the table if you want."

Reid took his leather jacket off and hung it on the back of one of my chairs. Underneath, his black t-shirt clung to his chest, and his jeans fit snug and tight in the back. I could tell he worked out, and I could also tell why women seemed to gravitate towards him – he definitely projected the tough cop image.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked Reid, breezing past him into the kitchen.

Reid followed me and sat on one of the bar stools at my kitchen counter. "Uh, whatever you're having."

I opened the fridge. "I have beer – do you want that? I know we're on duty tonight."

"Sure, one beer won't hurt," Reid said.

I knew he could handle it – for myself, I wasn't sure. I was exhausted and a beer would only add to that, but maybe I needed it to relax.

Having Reid in my apartment was a little strange and a little awkward. I mean, wasn't this the guy who treated me like garbage the first few days? Wasn't this the guy I called an asshole in the parking lot and who told me I was something that rhymes with hitch? He still intimidated me, home turf or not. Plus with all these rumors Foxy had started about me having a thing for Reid, I didn't know how to act around him anymore. It was easier when I hated him. I decided to take the beer – he was driving anyway.

I popped open two bottles and handed him one.

"Thanks," Reid said and took a long pull from the bottle.

I opened the freezer and rummaged around, not finding much. "I haven't had a chance to go shopping," I said. "I have some frozen chicken, but I think that will take too long." I looked in the fridge. I had a couple of avocados floating around but I felt silly offering them as a meal. "Why don't I just order pizza?" I said finally.

Reid shrugged and I dialed. We really didn't have pizza parlors in Los Angeles, just chains. I liked my pizza with peppers and onions and Reid liked the meat-lovers, so we got it half and half. Once that was out of the way, I fidgeting around the kitchen a bit, not really sure what I was doing. Reid watched me calmly. I noticed the display on my phone said that I had a message so I decided to check it.

I rolled my eyes as I listened to a long-winded message from my sister. I moved my hand into the shape of a duck's beak and opened and closed it to signify that the message was going on and on. Finally, it ended, and I pressed delete.

"My sister," I explained. "I have my final dress fitting tomorrow and she wanted to make sure I didn't forget."

"Did you?" Reid asked.

"Kinda," I said, smiling. "I'm just over this stupid wedding, you know? Ginny is trying to pull this bridezilla crap with me, but it doesn't work because I don't care about pleasing her. I'm not sure why she doesn't get that."

"I take it you don't approve of Bob?" Reid asked.

"He's okay – just a pain in the ass. He's successful and that's important to Ginny."

"He's an entertainment lawyer, right?"

I nodded.

"He fits the mold – late thirties, balding, works eighty-hour weeks."

"That's right," I said. "But that also describes half the men in this town. The other half are gay, and therein lies the problem."

"Is that why you're reduced to throwing yourself at potential convicts?"

I smiled and suddenly realized I was leaning on my elbows about eight inches from him. I stood up and took a swig of my beer. "We're not still talking about that, are we?"

"Honey, we're gonna be talking about that as long as I know you."

"It's okay, I'm used to abuse. I can take it," I countered. "But don't push me too hard. I've already discovered one skeleton in your closet – there must be more."

"Yes, you have a need to be nosy. I'd probably be sleeping right now if you hadn't stepped in."

"If sleep is your goal, you picked the wrong profession."

"Yes, I realized that a little too late," Reid said.

"I love sleep, but I don't get it either. These shows are go, go, go and then after three months or five months I'm out of a job. I should sleep on my downtime, but I'm too busy scrambling to find the next gig before someone else takes it."

"Doesn't sound like good job security."

"There's no job security. That is why I live here – unemployment can cover the rent," I explained.

Reid looked around. "This is a nice place, it's large. A place like this in Malibu would rent for three thousand a month."

"Where do you live exactly? I mean, can you afford a place out there on your salary?"

Reid turned his eyes to me and raised an eyebrow. I bit my lip.

"Sorry, there I go saying too much again."

"That's okay – I like that about you," Reid said, and I felt my heart jump just a little. "Besides, I never said I lived in Malibu, you just assumed I did."

"You told me you grew up there."

"I did, and my parents still live out there, but I live in Valley Village."

I punched Reid in the arm. "You jerk! You let me apologize for this place and you live in the Valley too? You're like one town over!"

Reid smiled. "I cashed out some of my inheritance for the down payment. I have a little two bedroom house off Magnolia."

I felt a little silly, but somehow more at ease knowing I wasn't dealing with a total elitist. I had him pegged as a spoiled rich kid who wanted to play with guns and act like a big shot, but now I wasn't so sure.

"Wait a minute, you came over here because you didn't want to drive all the way home. Are you telling me your home was five minutes away?" I asked.

Reid smiled. "I didn't have anything in my fridge either."

I stared at him for a minute, sizing him up. He shifted in his seat. Suddenly, the phone rang. I picked it up and buzzed in the delivery man. "Saved by the bell," I said to Reid.

The pizza was delicious. It came with this greasy butter garlic dip that probably had about a million calories per dip, but it was so worth it. We dined on the couch while watching _LA Incorporated_. My mom was retired, but I was still a loyal fan of the show, and both Reid and I were totally out of touch with Hollywood gossip. Cop, TV producer, it didn't matter – you needed to know what was going on.

There was a story about a young Hollywood actress who allegedly got into a fistfight with her manager. She had been arrested, and her mug shot was splashed across the television.

"Bet the uniform who picked her up got a pretty penny for turning this story over to the networks," Reid said.

"Do they really do that? Isn't that unethical?" I asked.

"Are you really asking me that? Didn't you make a woman do a second take because you didn't like the way she reacted to her son's death on camera?"

I smiled – he got me there. "When you say it like that, you make it sound terrible."

"It is!" Reid said. "I still can't believe I'm going along with this whole thing."

On TV the correspondent spoke to the camera. "There's a real life detective show hitting the airways this month called _Murder Live!_ "

I jumped up. "Oh! Reid – check it out."

Reid was on his feet too and we were both watching intently. Lenny came on the screen. "That's my boss!" I said.

"We've got some great stories – a gang-related murder, a drug bust and a suspicious hit-and-run," Lenny said on camera.

"Whoa that's our story!" I proclaimed. "This is exciting."

"Oh man, this is for real, isn't it?" Reid said. "I kept hoping no one would watch."

"Face it, you're famous," I said, watching Reid blush.

This was a little weird. I felt like we were on a date, and I was kind of having a good time. I needed to remind myself that this was not a date, this was work and my career was on the line if I didn't get this story. Plus this guy was a playboy, and if I'd learned anything from Kitt, it was that you should not go after the players – you always lose.

*****

An hour later, we were in Reid's car, driving towards Kitt's house. If I was going to deliver my story, we'd have to get back to work. I wore a pair of gray jeans and a black, long-sleeved, fitted t-shirt. On my feet I wore gray running shoes just in case we needed to pursue a suspect. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and looked out the window. It was nine o'clock and night had fallen around us. Reid had pulled up Kitt's address on his GPS, and a woman's voice in an Australian accent was guiding us around the turns. I knew Mac wouldn't be caught dead taking directions from a machine like this, but I thought it was cool that Reid would.

"In one quarter mile, keep left onto freeway one hundred and one," the computer voice chirped.

"I'm gonna make a quick stop first," Reid said. He turned right and pulled into a convenience mart.

"Ha!" I said. "I knew you couldn't do a stakeout without junk food."

We pulled into the parking lot and jumped out. Reid grabbed a coffee and I did the same. I bought a couple of chocolate bars – half with nuts and half without. At the register I insisted we put everything on my tab. It was the show's money anyway, so Reid didn't argue.

We jumped in the car, and I ripped open one of the candy bars and took a bite. I washed it down with a cup of coffee. I knew I was gorging myself, but I was tired and past the point of caring. I'd always felt that if you were going to pig out, it was better to do it all at once than to spread it out across the week.

We pulled back onto the road, and about twenty minutes later, we were pulling up to Kitt's house. It was near the race track, a small one-story house that was in poor repair. His green Spyder was parked in the garage, and there was a light on inside.

Reid parked the car across the street and slightly down the road. From this angle, we could see if people were going in and out of the house, but not much more beyond that. Reid opened up the glove compartment and pulled out a container of shoe polish. He held it out to me.

"Put some of this under your eyes – it will make us less visible."

I nodded and globbed some under each eye. When I was finished, I pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. I looked like a raccoon. "Does this really do anything?" I asked.

Reid cracked a smile, then busted out laughing.

"You are such a jerk!" I told him, punching him in the arm for the second time that night. "Give me a napkin!"

Reid pulled some out of the glove box and I wiped the polish off as best I could. I looked like I had slept on my face with industrial strength mascara smeared everywhere.

"That was just too easy," Reid said.

I shook my head. "Can you take this seriously, please?"

"I am, I am. We just have to sit here, there's not much to it."

I sipped my coffee and looked at the house. I could see a flickering in the window, and I guessed Kitt was watching television. I grabbed a few shots with the PD-150, then sat tight.

An hour into our stakeout, my coffee was drained and I had to go to the bathroom. I was bored and Reid wasn't providing much in the way of conversation. Finally, a cab pulled up in front of Kitt's house and honked twice. Reid and I both ducked low in our seats, watching.

A minute later the front door opened. Kitt was shirtless and wearing a pair of tight jeans. I couldn't help but stare – the guy was sexy. A woman appeared from behind him – someone we hadn't seen before. She was dressed in a loose but very short mini-dress and flip-flops and had long, flowing hair. She leaned against him and he put his hands around her face and kissed her, wide-mouthed.

"Man!" I said. "This guy is a major slut!"

"Shh!" Reid snapped. We watched the two separate and the girl drifted into the cab while Kitt stayed behind.

"He doesn't even drive her home. This guy's a real class act," Reid said.

The cab pulled off and Kitt walked back into the house. "Would it surprise you if another cab pulled up right about now?" Reid asked me.

"Oh yeah, like you're much better. I see the way women fall all over you."

"What women? Your sister and your mother? Are those the women you're talking about?"

"I see how women look at you," I said, unable to stop the words as they came out of my mouth.

"Wow, you're keeping an eye on me, huh?"

"I observe, that's my job," I said.

"Well I think you're crazy."

"You can say whatever you want, but I know your type. You and Kitt are just the same."

"Oh really? You know me so well, huh? You should tell my mother that – she gives me shit all the time because I don't date anyone. She'd probably be thrilled to know I'm out with a different girl each night."

"I doubt it," I said.

The garage door of Kitt's house sprung to life, and Reid and I both snapped to attention. We watched as the Spyder backed down the driveway and turned towards us on the street.

"Duck!" Reid said, and we both hit the floor.

A moment later, we were back in our seats, and Reid was firing up the engine. The hunt was on.

Reid handed me a baseball cap, which I threw over my head so that I wouldn't be recognized should Kitt happen to notice the tail. We stayed about three cars back from him and seemed to go unnoticed.

Kitt pulled onto the freeway ramp and once he merged into a lane he hit the gas. I could hear the roar of his engine as he took off.

"Shit!" I said. "Get him!"

Reid floored it and we raced after Kitt. Reid was careful to continue keeping our distance, but it was hard when we were weaving in and out of traffic in order to keep up with Kitt.

Kitt took the 101 Freeway to the 405 Freeway and headed south. We stuck with him. He eventually found a comfortable speed around ninety and cruised in the fast lane.

"Is this a bad time to tell you I have to go to the bathroom?" I asked.

"You're gonna have to hold it," Reid said. I already knew that, but it was still hard to hear.

We drove south for about an hour, down into Orange County and then through San Diego.

"Where the hell is this guy going?" I asked.

Reid picked up his phone and dialed Foxy. "Yeah man, how you doing? Listen, me and Sharpe are following Night Rider and he seems to be heading towards Mexico...Yeah, that's what I'm thinking...No, I'll let you know what we find....okay, thanks." Reid hung up the phone. "If he's heading to Mexico, it's for a drug pick-up. Did he seem like a user to you?"

I shrugged. "Seemed like racing was his drug, but I'm not good at spotting that type of thing. My high school prom date was on ecstasy the whole time and I never noticed. Every time I would touch his shoulder or his arm he'd get a boner, but I didn't put it together until years later."

Reid shook his head. "Thanks for sharing that with me."

We drove closer and closer to the Mexican border. We passed a couple of casinos on Indian reservations and I fantasized about using their bathrooms. As we neared the border, Kitt turned off the highway. We followed him but were careful about it. We trailed him as he drove down a series of winding roads, heading east. The land around us was becoming more deserted and more barren.

"I don't know how much longer I can follow him without getting noticed," Reid said.

I had the PD-150 in my hand and was panning back and forth between Kitt's car and Reid behind the wheel. "Detective, can you tell me what's going on right now?"

Reid looked frustrated, but he played along. He put on his best cop voice and spoke to me, looking back and forth between the camera and the road. "I've been following this suspect for about a hundred miles now. I would estimate we are about five miles or so from the Mexican border. He's not going through the normal security checkpoint, he seems to know another route. My guess is he's running drugs, I'm just trying to hang back so he doesn't see us."

"Thanks," I said. "That was great."

We saw the red brake lights on Kitt's car light up and then he turned off the road and into the brush. Reid drove a little further and then stopped.

"We have to wait here," Reid said quietly.

I didn't want to whine again that I had to go to the bathroom, so instead I seized the opportunity and opened the car door. I jumped out and found a nice bush that I could squat behind. I made sure to be totally out of sight. This was embarrassing, I knew that, but I thought wetting Reid's front seat might rank higher on the embarrassment meter, so I went for it.

"Sharpe! Sharpe!" Reid whispered.

I was quick to drop my pants and felt such a relief when the liquid drained out of me that I nearly orgasmed. It was then that I saw the white lights of Kitt's car coming towards me through the brush. I was mid-pee, but somehow all the liquid seemed to dump out at once and I had time to lunge behind Reid's car and hide myself.

Kitt's car roared past us and back down the road he came in on. My pants were wrapped around my ankles, but I couldn't worry about them. I managed to get my underpants up and jumped into the front seat of Reid's car.

"What the hell were you thinking!?"

"Just go!" I ordered and Reid floored it. I pulled the passenger door shut and pulled my pants up all in one maneuver.

"You chose now to piss!?"

"Could you think of a better time?"

"Yeah, lots!"

Suddenly, two other vehicles roared behind us. They were Jeeps painted in camouflage colors, and they had blue lights flashing on them.

"Shit!" Reid said and swerved off the road, letting the two trucks pass. They blazed past us blaring their sirens and leaving a trail of dust. Once they passed, Reid got back on the road and chased after them.

I grabbed my camera and started shooting. "Are those guys cops?" I asked over the noise.

"Hell no! They're vigilantes working border patrol. The government lets them shoot first and ask questions later," Reid answered.

"Shoot people?" I asked.

"No, shoot darts, Sharpe. What do you think?"

"Oh, wow!" I yelped.

We could see Kitt speeding ahead. It looked like there were some people sitting in the back of his car. Kitt's engine roared and he took off, leaving the Jeeps, myself and Reid in the dust.

The Jeeps slowed to a stop and so did we. They parked next to each other and the driver of the first car got out. He was wearing a dirty gray tank top and he carried a shotgun on a strap over his shoulder. He had a string of bullets around his waist and was wearing a pair of tight brown jeans. His hair was short and he looked like Rambo's understudy. I thought about the tiny canister of mace Mac had given me and wondered where I'd left it.

"Holy cow," I whispered. I was really glad I peed, because if I hadn't done it then I'd certainly be doing it now. I was still holding up the camera and recording. Somehow I felt a little safer behind the lens – like I was watching a movie and not actually in the crosshairs of vigilante killers.

The second Jeep's door opened and two more men jumped out. The first was short and skinny with pointy ears and a short haircut. He had a little mustache and beady eyes. He was wearing a pair of army pants and a beige button-down shirt. The driver of the second Jeep was taller and more muscular. He wore a black leather vest with nothing underneath it. He carried a semi-automatic gun in his hand. It looked like one of those guns that the gangsters held sideways while proclaiming "I'm gonna git you, sucka!" in the movies.

Reid pulled his gun out of its holster and checked it for proper ammo. My eyes opened so wide they nearly bugged out of my head. "Are you gonna use that?"

Reid ignored me and put the gun back in its holster. He pulled on the lever of the door and opened it. I gasped. I couldn't believe he was going out there. "Reid, don't leave me. Wait!"

"Turn off that camera and stay put," Reid said and stepped out of the car. I knew this wasn't the time to be rebellious, so I stayed put. I wasn't going to move, but I _was_ going to keep filming – I was scared, not stupid.

Outside, the three men drew their guns, but Reid already had his hands in the air. He was holding his badge up. "Hey, guys, I'm on your side," Reid called out. "Put the guns down, okay?"

The three men looked at each other and laughed. "We're the law down here," the skinny guy said.

"Where you from?" the Rambo-looking guy asked.

"Los Angeles. I came down here in pursuit of a suspect," Reid said. "Come on, guys, put down the guns."

Rambo nodded to the others, and they harnessed their weapons. "Thank you," Reid said, putting his hands down.

"Who's the girl?" the skinny guy asked, pointing at me.

"She's nobody," Reid said. "She's helping me with this investigation."

"Why's she holding a camera?" the skinny guy asked.

Reid turned to look at me and winced when he saw I was still rolling. He turned back to the guys with a smile on his face. "I told you I was from Hollywood, right? We're shooting a TV show during all this."

The skinny guy started laughing and the other two joined in too. I felt a wave of relief pass over me, and I think Reid did too. The skinny guy looked at me and signaled for me to get out of the car. I was hesitant at first, but it seemed safe now. I opened the car door and stepped out, carrying my camera.

"I hear you want to make us movie stars," the skinny guy said.

I forced a smile. "That's right – if you're interested in being on camera."

"Aww, my mother would be so proud," the guy in the black vest said.

"What do you know about the man driving the green Spyder?" Reid asked the men.

I held up the camera and leaned against Reid's car as I filmed them. The skinny guy looked at me. "You gonna shoot us now?"

I thought about the irony of his words. I never thought I'd be the one doing the shooting. "If you are okay with that," I answered.

"Sure, why not?"

"Great, please state your name and confirm that you consent to being filmed," I said.

I went down the line and all three men agreed to be filmed. It wasn't as good as a paper release, but it would do. The skinny guy was named Bobby, Rambo's clone was named Jake, and the guy in the leather vest was appropriately called Leather. I was actually a little surprised that they agreed to participate. These men were carrying illegal weapons to hunt down humans, and they were willing to be seen on TV doing it. They had cojones – I'd give them that.

"Tell me about the driver," Reid said again.

"His name is Kitt," Jake said. I glanced over at Reid, but he wasn't looking at me.

"What's he doing down here?" Reid asked.

"Smuggling. The spics cross the border at night and he picks them up at a pick-up point – brings them north. He collects a fee and they get to live in the good ol' U S of A."

"How do you know his name? Have you ever spoken to him?" Reid asked.

"Yeah, lots of times. We can't do shit until he's got the cargo – you know? We're not cops – we can only take out the intruders. He likes to mess with us – bragging about how fast he is – him and that piss-ant Chaser."

I felt my breath catch.

"Chaser does this too – human smuggling?" Reid asked.

"Yeah. They come down here in their hot rod cars with their big engines. I've thought about just taking them out, but it ruins the sport, you know?"

"Spic hunting is a rush," Bobby added with a big dumb smile on his face.

"Do they take drugs across too?" Reid asked.

"Probably," Jake said. "Don't know."

"There ain't time for a lot of questions when you're behind the barrel of a gun," Bobby said.

"Have you ever killed anyone?" I asked. The words fell out of my mouth and now all eyes were on me.

Bobby smiled and addressed me sweetly. "Now, I wouldn't want to say anything about that while that pretty camera was on."

"Right, sorry."

"Tell me about Chaser," Reid said.

"He comes down probably once a week," Jake said. "Though I haven't seen him lately. Grabs a couple spics and takes off. He's less cocky than that dumbass Kitt. If he's not careful he's gonna git hisself killed."

"Are you the only guys out here who do this?" Reid asked.

"There's a couple more of us," Leather chimed in, "but this here is our turf."

I was amazed that we were so close to San Diego and yet the people I was dealing with seemed like they had just crawled out from under a rock.

"How long have you been chasing these guys?" Reid asked.

"We've been after Chaser for maybe six months now," Jake said. "Kitt less – maybe three."

"Are there any other guys that come down here and do this? Other racers?"

"They're the only hot shots right now. Other people come down here, but not to race, they come to pick up their families or whatever bullshit."

I had a vision of a poor immigrant who had made a life for himself in America trying to pick up his grandmother and kids at the pick-up point. Then I pictured Jake and Leather blowing their brains out. It was not a good image. I knew illegal immigration into Los Angeles was a problem, but this didn't seem like the right way to solve it. I was feeling very uncomfortable, and I hoped Reid was finished with his questioning. I wanted to solve this murder, but I also wanted to get the hell out of there. I had to be at a dress fitting in the morning, and I didn't want to arrive at it in a body bag.

"Do you ever see anyone driving down with Kitt or Chaser – a woman, maybe?" Reid asked.

"There was a lady who used to come down with Chaser sometimes. Long black hair, big tits," Jake said. "I haven't seen her in a while, though."

"Thank you, guys, you have been very helpful. I may come down again in the next few days so keep an eye out for my car, okay?" The guys nodded and Reid turned to me. "Let's get going."

Reid calmly walked to the car and I followed. He made sure I got in the car safely before he got inside.

"Don't say anything," Reid said to me.

We watched in silence as the three men climbed back into their makeshift army vehicles and turned over their engines. They drove past us, giving Reid a slight wave as they passed. I had stopped filming and was thinking about how lucky I was to be alive. I was also thinking that I really needed a career change. Sometimes getting the shot just wasn't worth it. I let out a deep breath, trying to relax. I felt Reid's hand on my leg.

"It's okay," he said to me. "You're safe."

Reid put the key in the ignition and turned on the car. He pulled forward and began driving while the GPS fired up. "I don't know if this thing will even be able to find us," he said.

"You're telling me we're lost on top of everything else?" I whispered.

Reid glared at me, and then turned his head towards the road. Yelling at him was probably not the best idea right about now.

We drove in silence for several miles until the GPS finally picked up our signal. "Please drive to highlighted route," the woman with the Australian accent said, and we both breathed a sigh of relief. We drove the next thirty miles in complete silence, lost in our thoughts. It wasn't until we got on the freeway and saw the San Diego signs that we were finally able to take stock of what we had been through and regroup. Reid was a tough guy, I knew that, but I also knew his upbringing, and there was no way trading stories with vigilante killers came naturally to him. He played it off well, but it could have easily gone downhill very fast. Those types of guys don't want to work with cops because they don't respect our country's laws - Reid and I both knew that.

"Do you think Rose is the connection?" I asked finally.

"Huh?" Reid said, lost in thought.

"She's Mexican. Maybe she has contacts on the other side and arranges for the pick-ups."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Reid said.

"So what do we do?"

"We need answers from Kitt – right now all we have is suspicions, and they're not enough."

"Do you think he killed Chaser?"

"Could have. Maybe he got greedy – wanted the money for himself."

"Maybe Rose did it. Maybe she started sleeping with Kitt and wanted to cut Chaser out of the equation."

Reid was nodding. "Too many maybes. Plus none of this explains the paint chips on Chaser's body. They matched Jaeger's car, and it seems like too big of a coincidence that Rose was in that car the next night."

"Right, so Rose is the killer."

"You can't just guess, Sharpe, there's a thing called evidence that you need and we don't have any. I'm gonna talk to the captain in the morning. What time is your dress thing?"

"Eleven thirty," I said.

"Okay, get to the station around nine and we'll bring the captain up to speed."

"Thanks for including me," I said.

"I have to admit you have been _somewhat_ helpful with this case. I wouldn't cut you out now."

Reid paying me this small compliment actually meant a lot, and I felt proud of myself. I typically didn't take much pride in what I did, and I certainly didn't enjoy staring death in the face on the Mexican border, but nonetheless, I felt the night ended on a high note.

An hour later, Reid pulled up in front of my apartment. It was close to two a.m., but I was getting used to the lack of sleep. I was already imagining what my mother was going to say when she saw the bags under my eyes tomorrow morning.

I opened the car door and turned to Reid. "Call me," I joked, acting as if we had just finished our first date.

"Get some sleep," Reid said.

I closed the door and he pulled off. I was actually relieved to know he was only driving a few miles away. Reid had almost nodded off a few times on the way home and I didn't want him getting in an accident.

I turned towards my apartment and went inside. My bed was calling my name, but I had to make a phone call first. It was very late and I decided this would be the perfect time to call Lenny with an update. He had done it to me during his little prank and now it was payback time.

The phone rang a few times, but on the fourth ring he picked up. "Hello?" I heard a groggy voice say.

"Lenny, it's Vicky Sharpe. Am I waking you?"

"Hold on, Sharpe," Lenny said and proceeded to make a series of hacking noises. This went on for almost three minutes and I was about to hang up when he returned to the line. "Whaddya got?"

"I just got back from the Mexican border. This hit-and-run case has taken a big turn."

"Tell me," Lenny said, sounding excited.

I explained how we had followed Kitt to the border and how Chaser and Kitt were both involved in the human smuggling business. I told him my suspicions were that either Rose or Kitt or even one of the vigilante border patrols could be the killer. There were a lot of 'ifs,' but we were much closer than we had been when we started.

"This is big," Lenny said. "I'm gonna talk to the network about this tomorrow. This should be our premiere episode. When can you get tonight's footage digitized?"

"Have a PA pick it up from me at the station in the morning. I can't waste time driving it over to the West Side," I said, acting like a big shot.

"Done. Keep me posted on your progress. Hey, Sharpe?"

"Yes?"

"Good work."

Lenny hung up and I beamed. I washed my face in the sink and brushed my teeth. I felt filthy after being that close to those border scumbags. I washed my hands thoroughly and then dressed in my pajamas. My thoughts kept me awake for a half hour as I played different scenarios in my head about who could have killed Chaser. Finally, around three, I drifted into sleep.

### Chapter 9.

The next morning, I arrived at the station at 9:15. I had planned to get there a little earlier, but my body hadn't agreed with my mind, and I snoozed six times before getting out of bed.

Mac and Manny had picked up some donuts and coffee for everyone, so I grabbed a jelly and took a bite. Foxy was at his desk and so was Reid, who looked up when I walked in.

"Did you talk to the captain?" I asked Reid, my mouth full of jelly donut.

"Not yet – we're meeting in fifteen minutes."

"Sharpe – what the hell?" Mac said, pulling me aside forcefully. "Thanks a lot for including me on your little adventure last night." He still had hold of my arm and I wrenched it away.

"Look, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I knew if we went behind Reid's back again he'd kick us off the case."

"Then you should have asked me to come along. I'm sure your amateur-hour footage isn't going to cut it with the network."

"I'm a steady shot – you showed me how," I countered.

"Whatever – thanks for nothing," Mac said and stormed off. He was mad, but I didn't care. My ass was on the line here, not his, if we didn't deliver.

*****

I had Manny and Mac rig one of the conference rooms for sight and sound. I knew how big this story could be, and everything had to look right. We didn't have a lot of time for setup, but I made sure that all the little touches were there. I dimmed the lights, laid some pictures of the body and the reports on the table, and placed several used coffee cups around the room. I wanted to give the illusion that the cops had been sitting around the table and working on this all night. It actually looked pretty damn convincing. Mac had managed to calm down after his outburst, and we were once again working as a team.

Reid and Foxy took their places at the table, and I hid with Mac and Manny in the corner of the room.

"I thought this was supposed to be _reality_ ," Foxy said. "This feels a little staged."

I shrugged. A few moments later, Captain Harris opened the door with force. "Okay, what we got?" She sat at the table and paid our camera no mind. She was focused on Reid and Foxy and solving this case.

"We've been investigating the murder of John Walters, a.k.a. Chaser," Reid began.

"Yeah, the hit-and-run, get to the point," Harris interrupted.

"We have come to discover that Chaser was transporting illegal immigrants across the border in his race car. They called him Chaser because he could outrun the border patrol. Last night we followed his friend and partner Kitt down to the border – that's how we found out about this operation."

"What exactly did you find?" Harris asked.

"We followed him inland near San Diego. He drove through the bushes so we couldn't see the actual pick-up, not unnoticed at least, but we did see him take off at high speed with some extra passengers."

"But you have no evidence that they were illegal, right?"

"Right, but we spoke to the border patrol down there and they said both Kitt and Chaser do this all the time."

"Okay, so border patrol has a vendetta against this Chaser guy. Do they follow him to the mainland?" Harris asked.

"It's possible, but we think he was run down by a race car. We found two different colors of paint chips on the victim's body. The guys down there, at least the ones we saw, drove Jeeps."

"Could you trace the paint to any specific vehicles?" Harris asked.

"We're waiting for forensics to get back to us on some samples we pulled off the car we think was used for the murder. The driver has an alibi, but his car seems to match the color of the chips found on the victim."

"So why not chase him? Why this Kitt guy?"

"The guy's alibi is solid, the only way he could have done it is if someone borrowed or stole his car while he was at work. Chaser's girlfriend Rose may have had access to the car – we saw her riding in it once. She's also Mexican and might have a connection on the other side of the border. We think she might be setting up the pick-ups then sharing in the profits."

"So she's collecting half the profit, then gets greedy and knocks him off with her boyfriend's car?" Harris asked.

"Possibly, or it could be this other driver, Kitt. Maybe he got greedy for more action – wanted to take all the runs, instead of half. I don't think Jaeger, the owner of the car, was involved in this stuff, but we don't know," Reid said.

"Sounds like a lot of maybes. Where do I come in?" Harris asked.

"We want to plan our next steps right and we have a couple of options. We could haul in the girlfriend and try to get info about the Mexican connection, but she might not talk and then she'll tip off the others. We could bring in Kitt but I know he won't talk. Or we could do a stakeout at the border and nail him with some hard evidence."

"If you can catch him," Harris said.

"I can catch him," Reid said, sounding determined. "I think if we can get him on a charge he may squeal."

"Unless he killed Chaser, then he won't talk either way," Harris said.

"Right, but maybe one of the Mexicans he's carrying will," Foxy piped in.

"This is out of jurisdiction, you know that," Harris said.

"I know a guy down there," Foxy said. "I can let them know we're coming down."

"You'll need an interpreter," Harris said.

"I can speak Spanish," Manny chimed in.

Harris turned and it seemed like she was noticing the crew for the first time. "Oh shit, you're bringing these monkeys down with you?"

I gathered that when Reid was telling the captain what "we" saw, she assumed he meant him and Foxy.

"We don't have to," Reid answered, and I felt my heart drop. We were in this too deep, they couldn't cut us out now.

Captain Harris looked at us, then back to Foxy and Reid. "If these clowns weren't here this would have been an open and shut case. Hit-and-run, no witnesses, no chance. But it turns out you may have something here so I'm gonna let you run with it. You have seventy-two hours before I pull the file."

Harris stood up and walked out of the room. Foxy looked at Reid. "Nice work - we got her."

"First she calls us monkeys, then clowns?" Manny said. "That's rude, man."

"Call your connection down there," Reid said to Foxy. "I want to head down there tonight."

"How do you know he's going back there tonight?" I asked.

"I don't," Reid said. "We just have to hope we get lucky."

"Can't we put a tracking device on him?" Mac asked.

"You need warrants for that shit and we don't have time," Reid said.

" _You_ need warrants," Mac said. "We don't."

Mac explained that he had a tracking device that he had placed on Reid and Foxy's car in the event that we got separated. Reid did not react well to this but agreed to look the other way if they put the device on Kitt's car. We had his home address and guessed he was probably sleeping during this early morning hour. Mac grabbed a couple of tools and headed out to plant the device in Kitt's car. In the meantime, I got in my car and headed west for my final dress fitting. I was going from a world of crime and death to frou-frou happy dress land, and I laughed at the contrast.

*****

The dress shop was in Santa Monica, a pretty boutique that catered to Hollywood's elite. I pulled into the parking lot and saw that my mother's car was already there. I checked my watch and saw that I was fifteen minutes late.

I walked inside to see my sister standing on a platform wearing her wedding gown, looking angelic. The room had a few gowns hanging on racks and long mirrors everywhere. The platform my sister was perched on was surrounded by five full length mirrors and there was a seamstress down on her knees checking the length of the dress. I saw my mother sitting on a beautiful oversized chair in the corner. She was sipping tea and smiling at how gorgeous her daughter looked. I suddenly heard the ticking sound of my biological clock. I felt like I was in _Taming of the Shrew_ , Ginny was the beautiful younger sister that everyone wanted to wed, and I was the older sister with attitude and parents who were willing to pawn her off on anyone who would take her. I gave Ginny a wave and flopped on the chair next to my mother.

"You're late, Victoria," Ginny said.

"Actually, I'm on time. I wanted to miss all of the oohing and aahing over your dress," I said.

Ginny shot me a nasty look while my mother stepped in to smooth the waters. "That's okay, Vicky, I did enough oohing and aahing for both of us."

One of the saleswomen offered me a cappuccino. I figured a little more caffeine in my system couldn't hurt, so I accepted the offering. My mother was spending a fortune on these dresses, and I figured I should milk them for all the freebies I could get.

A woman walked out from the back carrying a dress in a garment bag. She was older and presumably the owner of the shop. "Evelyn, look what I have here," she cooed.

My mother stood and watched as the woman opened the bag and pulled the dress out. It was a long dress in a light green shade studded with Swarovski crystals and lace.

My mother gasped. "Oh, it's just fabulous."

"Giorgio personally made all the adjustments you requested. It's stunning," the woman said.

I glanced at my sister and saw her face turning red. I loved that she was jealous of my mom, a woman thirty years her senior. In truth, my mother's dress was probably more expensive than Ginny's – but she would never let her know that.

My mother and the woman slipped into a fitting room to try the dress on while the store's assistant delivered my cappuccino. I took a sip and tried to relax, but there were a million things going through my mind, and this was the last place I wanted to be.

My mother stepped out into the room grandly. She looked like she could have been going to the Oscars in that gown, and everyone in the room stopped to admire her.

"Wow," the seamstress at Ginny's feet blurted out.

"You look wonderful," the store owner said.

I knew this was going to turn ugly really fast and so in the spirit of self-preservation, I spoke up. "It's a little sparkly, no?"

My mother and everyone else looked down at the dress.

"It looks okay on you, Mom, but it's a little gaudy. I mean, you pull it off, but I think Ginny's dress is more understated and elegant."

Ginny tilted her head and scrunched her brow. "Yeah, Mom, that dress is very you, but wouldn't work for me. I guess it's meant for the over-sixty crowd."

"Over fifty!" my mother lied.

Ginny went back to staring at herself in the mirror, but my mother looked visibly upset. When she finally looked my way, I gave her a wink that told her I didn't mean anything I had just said. She seemed to understand and relaxed a bit.

Fifteen more minutes rolled by, and I was still waiting to try on my dress. Truth be told, I had tried the dress on numerous times, but my mother and Ginny wanted everything to be perfect. I texted Mac to find out his progress, and he texted back that he had secured the tracking device on Kitt's car. Good old Mac. I texted Reid too, but he didn't respond. I was itching to get back to the station and was trying to keep my composure, but I was getting a little irritated.

By twelve thirty I was ready to blow. My face was getting redder and redder, and I was biting the skin around my finger nails so hard it was drawing blood. "I have to go back to work, you know!" I finally blurted out. "I don't have time to sip cappuccinos all day with you people!"

Ginny and my mother both turned and looked at me, shocked.

"You're working today?" my mother asked.

"Yes, I'm working today. I'm investigating a murder, Mother. I work every day until we solve it." I saw the store owner glance over at me when I mentioned the murder.

"You wore that to work?" my mother asked. "Victoria, honestly, I thought you just rolled out of bed."

I looked down at my outfit. I was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a navy blue polo shirt with sneakers. "I look fine!"

"All right, let's just get her in her dress," my mother said to the owner of the store. "Her body needs chiffon."

The owner walked into the back and retrieved my dress. It was the same light green shade that my mother wore, and on my pale skin, it made me look sickly.

"I was planning to take you to the tanning salon after this, Vicky," Ginny said to me. "You never told me you were working."

"Well, I am."

"Well, your body needs color."

I slid the dress up and the store owner zipped up the back. She got about halfway up and stopped.

"Whoa. I think we have a little problem here," she said, trying to pull the zipper up.

I could feel my face turning bright red. "I'm bloated, okay? I haven't slept in days and I've been eating a bunch of junk food."

"What? I thought you agreed to go on the body cleanse with me," Ginny said.

"What body cleanse?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"I called you the other morning and we both agreed. We talked about it for like ten minutes."

I realized this conversation probably happened while I was sleeping with the phone pressed to my ear. "Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot."

"The wedding is in two days," the store owner told me. "We're going to have to let the dress out a bit to accommodate your new...girth. I don't know if we'll have enough time."

My mother let out a breath and started rapidly fanning herself. "Oh no, I can't believe this is happening. I can't breathe." The store assistant ran over to my mother and helped her into the oversized chair.

I'd had enough. I spun around to the owner and pointed my finger at her. "Listen, lady, my mother is paying you good money here. I don't care if I've gone up one size or sixty – just fix it!"

The owner turned white and stepped away from me. "Yes, of course, officer. Don't worry, we will fix this." She grabbed some pins and got right to work re-fitting my dress. I liked that she thought I was a cop, and I wasn't going to do a thing to make her think otherwise. I had started my week off terrified of a crazy detective and his captain, and now I was yelling at seamstresses and being called "officer." It was an improvement for sure.

My cell phone buzzed, and I asked the assistant to retrieve it for me. It was a text from Mac saying that we were heading south at three o'clock. I looked at my watch to see that it was almost one. "You have thirty minutes," I told the store's owner.

"What could be so important?" Ginny asked me. Her seamstress had finally finished her dress fitting, and Ginny was lounging in a white sundress with her feet raised on an ottoman.

"I'm heading down to the border tonight for a bust, if you must know."

"A bust? Are you joking? The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow!" my mother said. "Victoria, are you trying to give me heart attack?"

"Mother, please stop being so dramatic. I'll be back in the morning. Besides, shouldn't you be worrying about my safety, not whether I'll be here for the dinner?"

"You're going to be in danger? Jesus!" my mother said, fanning herself even more rapidly.

I rolled my eyes – this wasn't going well at all. "Mom, you're an excellent actress, we all know that, but you don't have to put on a show right now."

"Don't speak to her like that!" Ginny blurted out. "Victoria, you are ruining everything!"

"All right, everyone calm down. Mom, you look great, Ginny, you look great, and I will pick up a pair of Spanx on the way home tomorrow. I am not going to be in danger and everything is rosy – okay?"

Suddenly I felt a sharp prick in my back. "Ow!" I jumped.

"Whoops, sorry," the store owner whispered. I decided the pin prick was a warning and I kept my mouth shut for the remainder of the visit.

I was out the door five minutes after one, leaving me just enough time to indulge my sister in her wish to go to the tanning salon.

*****

The bimbo behind the desk at California Sun Quest was probably twenty-one and very tan and perky.

"My skin doesn't accept the sun, Gin," I explained. "I'll leave here a lobster and then ten minutes later I'll be pale again."

"I know that, Vicky, we have the same skin. That's why I've been gradually tanning for the past three weeks." Ginny turned to the bimbo. "We're gonna have to spray her."

"Great. Did you bring your bikini?" the bimbo asked me.

"No."

"Oh. Well, Ricardo is our only tanner right now. Are you okay with getting sprayed by a man?"

I turned to my sister. "Ginny, what the hell?"

"You can leave your underwear on. But you don't want tan lines up top, so no bra, okay?"

I cursed myself for allowing my guilt to get me to this place. The bimbo walked me to the back and told me to strip down. I stood there topless in my underwear, waiting for Ricardo.

Ricardo was a big burly guy with muscles on top of muscles. His voice was smooth and even, just like his tan. "No tan lines, all right, girl. I'm gonna spray you and I need you to spin, okay? It gives the best coverage."

I was past the point of humiliation, so I obliged his request. I stood with my arms up and nipples blaring spinning in circles while Ricardo shot me with a spray gun of skin dye.

"Spin! Spin! Faster, faster!" Ricardo ordered.

"I'm gonna throw up!" I called out.

"Yeah, but you're gonna look great!"

I stepped out of the room a while later wearing a white towel that was slowly turning orange. I was especially annoyed because my underwear was now also orange, and I was going to have to wear it for the rest of the day. I looked in the mirror and noted that I was more pumpkin than bronze, but I had little time to worry about that – I needed to get back to the station.

I thanked my sister for the memories, then hopped in my Miata and headed east. On the way to the station I passed a dollar store and pulled in. I found a seven-pack of cotton underpants with the various days of the week on them. They were meant for kids, but at least they were clean, so I bought them. I used the restroom of the store, threw my orange-stained panties in the trash, and put the Friday pair on. I figured if I was going to wear the days of the week, I should at least wear the correct day.

*****

When I got back to the station, things were happening. Mac and Manny were loading up the SUV, and Foxy and Reid were hurriedly working the phones. I walked up to Reid and gave him a wave. He raised his finger to me in the _one second please_ gesture, so I stood and waited. Foxy looked up and gave me a sideways glance. "You had time to go to the beach?"

I looked down at my orange skin. "No, I just drank a lot of orange juice. Sometimes this happens."

Foxy raised an eyebrow. "No shit?"

Reid hung up the phone and looked at me. "Are you the new spokesperson for Orange Glow Cleanser?"

"They said it will fade in a few hours, okay?" I said. "Besides, I needed some color."

Foxy analyzed my new color. "It looks like you created a new race or something."

"Just get me up to speed, okay?"

"Swing and a miss on the paint chips. The report from forensics came back and they don't match the paint on Jaeger's car," Foxy said.

"Oh," I said. "That sucks."

"It was a long shot anyway," Foxy said.

"We've been working the phones while you were...tanning," Reid jumped in. "PD down there knows we're coming but they're too busy with other border issues to devote any uniforms to this."

"Well, that's good, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, less messy. We can get in and get out. We're heading down in twenty minutes. Mac's got us all booked at the Alta Vista Inn."

"We're staying there?" I asked.

"We don't know when and if Kitt is even going to come down tonight so we need a home base. If we see him coming on the tracker, we'll get in position. Mac said your show would pay for the rooms."

"Yeah, that's fine. I just didn't pack any clothes or anything," I said.

"I have to pack a bag too," Reid said. "Go home now, and Foxy and I will pick you up in a half hour, okay?"

I nodded. This was exciting, and I was thrilled that Reid and Captain Harris had decided to let us be a part of it. I knew Manny's Spanish skills were probably the main motivator, but I knew that Mac's tracking device and my snooping were playing into the decision as well.

*****

At home, I ran into the bathroom to throw some stuff together. I packed some makeup, a toothbrush, and a hairbrush and then yelped when I saw my orange skin reflected in the mirror. "Huh!" I looked like I had just come out of a mud-wrestling pit. I knew I didn't have time, but I jumped in the shower anyway and washed the orange stuff off. It smelled terrible, and I was happy to be rid of it. My Friday underpants had turned orange so I swapped them out for a pair of Saturdays. They weren't fashionable, but they were damn comfortable. I hurried out of the shower and took a look at my reflection. I was still orange, but it was a little more subtle. I threw on some clothes and grabbed an overnight bag. I packed a light jacket, a set of baggy two-piece pajamas, and a change of clothes for the morning. I was finished in less than ten minutes and was zipping my bag closed when I heard my phone ring.

I expected it to be the guys telling me they were outside, but it was Lenny. "Sharpe, you can't leave me hanging like that. I need to know what's going on," Lenny said in my ear.

"Sorry about that – I had a busy morning. We're heading down to the border in a few minutes to do a stakeout. We need to catch Kitt on tape before we can haul him in. We don't know if he killed Chaser, but if we have something on him maybe we can get him to squeal."

"Do you need backup down there? Missy's crew just wrapped up their gang-bang case."

"No!" I said, a little too forcefully. "Lenny, it's a stakeout – not a party. The fewer people the better."

"Your sister's wedding is on Sunday – are you sure you can get this wrapped up before then?"

I had forgotten that Lenny was a guest. Lenny and my mom met when she was doing some field reporting for _LA Incorporated_. They struck up a conversation, and she had used him to score me some gigs throughout the years.

"I hope so," I said. I saw that Foxy was beeping in on my other line. "Listen, I gotta go. I'll keep you posted." I hung up with Lenny and clicked over to Foxy. "I'll be right out." I swung my overnight bag over my shoulder and headed for the door.

Outside, I saw that Foxy was in the driver's seat. Reid opened the passenger door and stepped out.

"You can take the front if you want," Reid said.

"Whoa, are you developing a soul or something?" I asked.

"Actually, I just wanted to stretch out in the back and take a nap. Is that okay?" Reid asked.

I nodded and he jumped in the back. I knocked on the trunk and Foxy popped it. I threw my bag inside and hopped in the passenger's seat.

" _Orange_ you glad we're here?" Foxy joked, taking another shot at my spray tan, which had faded but not disappeared.

"Wow, a comedian and a chauffeur? You're the whole package."

Foxy held up his left hand and showed me his wedding ring. "Sorry, Sharpe, you're a couple years too late."

"Come on, Foxy, what happens at the border stays at the border."

"That was gonna be Reid's line. I guess you beat him to it."

Reid was sprawled out in the back seat lying on his back. He punched the back of Foxy's seat, then covered his eyes with his arm and snoozed. Foxy put the car in gear, and we headed off to dangers unknown.

I dialed Mac's number and checked in. "Where are you?"

"Heading south on the 405 now. We've probably got a fifteen-minute jump on you."

"Is the tracking device working okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, so far our friend hasn't left the house. The device will start beeping if he moves, and we'll know it."

"Okay. Your batteries are charged, you have enough tape stock, and all that, right?" I asked.

"Yes, boss. This isn't my first rodeo, you know."

"Yeah, but this is your first stakeout and I want you to be ready."

"Actually, this is the third stakeout I've done. The first was for a _Shame on You_ segment on News Eleven..."

I held the phone away from my ear and rolled my eyes.

"And the second was in Australia. We were stalking an animal so I don't know if you would call it a stakeout officially, but..."

"Okay, Mac!" I said, cutting him off. "Thank you, I get it. Just make sure everything is ready, okay?"

We drove south down the 405 Freeway, and before long, I could hear Reid snoring in the back. Snoring was something I found particularly annoying. When I was a kid, my parents would take us on my mother's press tours and we would all share a hotel room. Ginny and I would share one bed and my parents would share the other. It was always a race to fall asleep before my dad so that we didn't have to endure the snoring. My mother said that snoring was actually one of the reasons she decided to divorce him. I remember one time I decided to sleep in the hotel bathtub because it was quieter. My father got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, and boy, did I scare the hell out of him! Reid's deep, gurgling snores brought me right back to those early hotel days.

"Pump the brakes or something so he rolls over," I said to Foxy.

"He only gets like this when he's really tired," Foxy said.

"Do you two sleep together often?" I asked.

Foxy thought a moment. "It's weird that I know that, huh? My wife calls him 'the other woman' because I spend more time with him than her."

Reid let out a loud sniffle and choked on it.

"Uggh, disgusting," I said.

"Is this giving you second thoughts about that _what happens on the border, stays on the border_ thing?"

"Big time."

Foxy pumped the brakes hard. "Hey Reid, shut up back there!"

Reid jumped up, his face red from his arm resting on it. "Huh, what?"

"You were snoring, dude. Sharpe's not gonna do you if you're a snorer, okay?"

I punched Foxy in the arm.

"You keep doing that and it's gonna leave a mark," he told me.

"Then shut your mouth already!"

Reid dropped his head back down and fell asleep. He looked so peaceful resting in the back seat until he started snoring again. I turned the radio on and tried to tune him out.

*****

Two hours later, we pulled into the Alta Vista Inn. The hotel was actually quite nice – the front desk clerk said they had just gone through a major renovation. The lobby consisted of a small check-in desk, a breakfast area with a series of small tables, and a bar off to the side.

"Breakfast is included with your room rate, and it's served from seven a.m. until nine," the front desk attendant informed us.

She gave us two sets of keys – one for me and one for Reid and Foxy. I turned to Foxy and smiled. "Ha, you get the snorer."

Reid had just woken up and was rubbing his eyes. "You got any coffee here?' he asked the woman behind the desk.

"Yes sir, it's over in the breakfast area. Please help yourself."

Reid headed over and poured himself a cup. The elevators were just past the desk. I heard one of them ding, and the doors opened. Mac and Manny stepped out. Mac was in full stakeout gear. He was wearing a pair of light cargo pants with a utility belt around his waist, a beige short-sleeved shirt and hiking boots. He looked like he belonged in the Outback. Manny was dressed in his usual garb, a pair of long jean shorts and a t-shirt that said something in Spanish graffiti on it. Mac spotted us and waved.

"Not bad, right?" he said, motioning towards the hotel. "Seventy-nine dollars a night."

"And it includes breakfast," Manny piped in.

"Very nice," I agreed. "How are you guys doing? Do you need any help?"

"No, this is our last trip. Just go get settled in your room, we're okay," Mac said.

"Any tracker activity?" Reid asked, returning with his coffee.

"No," Mac answered. "He's still home."

"All right, well, we've still got some time," Reid said.

"Hey, maybe we could go down to the border site in the daylight and get some shots. I think it would be good to show the terrain. At night we won't be able to see much," I said to Mac.

"We need to scope out the place anyway," Foxy said. "I haven't seen it yet. Let's plan to depart in twenty minutes – agreed?"

We all nodded. Mac and Manny went to get the last of the equipment out of the car while Reid, Foxy, and I headed towards the elevators. Inside, Reid let out a big yawn. I pushed the button for floor two while Foxy and Reid were on floor three. The doors opened on two and I turned to the guys.

"Okay, I'll just put my stuff down. See you in a few." They nodded, and the doors closed.

My hotel room was pretty spacious, but it was also very stuffy. It took me about ten minutes to figure out how the air conditioning worked, and then I started unpacking. I laid my toiletries in the bathroom and placed the few clothes I had in the dresser drawers. I looked at the king bed in the middle of the room. It was so inviting and my room was so quiet and peaceful, but I knew it was not meant to be. If I was going to get my story and get to my sister's wedding on time, I would have to stay awake and stay focused.

### Chapter 10.

We decided it would be best to take one car, so everyone loaded into the SUV with Mac behind the wheel. Reid sat up front with Mac while Foxy, Manny, and I squeezed together in the middle row. The back seat was loaded up with equipment, and space was limited. As the female, I got stuck in the middle seat. Foxy was taking up a seat and a half and Manny was taking up a full seat, so that left me sitting on one ass cheek and having trouble breathing.

I shifted around in my seat, trying to find a comfortable angle.

"Hands to yourself, Sharpe. I told you I'm married," Foxy said.

"My lap is available if you'd prefer," Manny said.

I rolled my eyes and shifted again in my seat. "Move over!" I barked at Foxy.

Ten minutes later I _was_ sitting on Manny's lap. I wasn't terribly comfortable in this position either, but it beat the alternative. I had texted my sister that the spray tan had turned my skin orange and now my phone was blowing up with incoming calls. I was on the line with Ginny but my mother kept trying to beep in.

"You're ruining everything! If you had just gradually tanned like I did, this would have never happened!" Ginny whined over the phone.

"Don't blame this on me! You're the genius who dyed me this color in the first place!"

The guys in the car were trying to tune me out, but as I got louder and louder, they had trouble ignoring me.

"Ginny, hold on, Mom keeps calling – hold on!" I clicked over to my mother. "Mom, I don't even want to hear it from you."

"I'm spending ten thousand dollars on a photographer and you look like a giant peach!" my mother began.

"Then tell the photographer to shoot in black and white."

My phone beeped. I saw that Ginny had hung up and was now redialing me. "Mom, look I've got to go, okay? I'm working, don't keep calling me." I clicked over to my sister. "Ginny, I took a shower and got a lot of it off, okay? Just relax. Go sleep with Bob and make him cry or something."

That last comment got me a couple of strange looks from the guys.

"How dare you bring that up!" Ginny fumed. "I told you that in confidence."

"Well, I didn't tell anyone, even if it is ridiculous! Look, I've gotta go." I hung up the phone. "Ahh!" I cried out. "Never get married, guys – you turn into a crazy person."

"What's this about doing a dude until he cries?" Manny wanted to know.

I silenced him with a glare and turned my focus to Mac. "Are we there yet?"

"Getting close," Reid said. "It's been hard to navigate with all the chatter going on in here."

Outside, the land around us was brown and burned. There were a series of hills and small brushes scattered around, and it was looking more and more like the desert. Mac was staring intently at the terrain. "Are those tire tracks there?" Mac asked, pointing.

"Yeah, turn here," Reid said to Mac.

Mac turned the car and we drove off the road into a grassy embankment. Mac stopped the car, and we all got out and looked around. I didn't have a good sense of direction and couldn't be sure this was the same spot we were in the night before, but it certainly looked similar. Reid paced back and forth, looking around.

"Yeah, I think this is the spot. Sharpe, what do you think?"

"Looks like it," I said.

Mac pulled my PD-150 out of the back seat and played the tape from the night before. He paused it on an image and surveyed the scene. He squinted, then started walking towards the road, looking back and forth like a search dog.

"What's he doing?" Reid asked me.

"He's just being Mac," I answered.

Mac disappeared for a while, then I heard him call out, "I got it!"

We all walked onto the street and saw that Mac was about five hundred feet down the road. He was shifting his gaze between the camera and the street to ensure he was correct. We all headed down the road to join him.

"Sharpe, you stood here, right?" Mac said, angling himself on the right side of the road.

I knew he lived for this stuff, so I tried to show more enthusiasm than I actually felt. "Yeah – wow, Mac!"

Reid walked over to Mac and looked around. I was worried that Reid was going to get his feathers ruffled, but he didn't. "Nice job, man. Yeah, this is the spot."

Reid looked to the left and saw the clearing that Kitt had driven his car through. We all followed him off the road and across the dirt. I indicated to Mac that he should get some footage of this stuff, so he powered on and started rolling. Manny pulled out his boom mic and started recording audio as well.

"Maybe you could take us through this as you look, okay, Reid?" I asked. "Just tell us what you're looking for."

Reid rolled his eyes but nodded. He turned and we all followed. He spoke as he walked. "The perp drove through these bushes here. You can see the tire tracks on the ground," Reid began.

Mac panned down to capture the tracks.

"If we follow the tracks they will lead us to the exact pick-up point," Reid said.

We followed the tracks for another couple hundred feet and then they stopped. There was a lot of upturned dirt where Kitt likely turned his car around.

"They must have met him right here," Reid said, looking around. "There's lots of brush cover out here. It would be easy to hide at night."

Mac panned across the desert and the various boulders and bushes that studded the barren surface. Reid walked a little further and was able to find some cigarette butts behind a large tree.

"This tree is probably the pick-up point. Easy landmark," Reid said.

We grabbed a couple more shots of the tire tracks and cigarette butts, then headed back to the street.

"Where do you want to set up?" Foxy asked Reid.

"I'm thinking we can get a vehicle hidden off-road pretty easily out here. We should probably pick a point up the road."

Foxy and Reid walked up the street to find a good spot while Mac picked up a few cutaways. "I'm gonna rig that tree with a night vision camera," Mac told me.

"Nice," I told him. "Just make sure it's hidden."

"Come on, this is me you're talking to," Mac said.

He walked over to the car to unload his equipment. "Sharpe?" he called out. "We've got movement on Kitt."

I ran over to the car to get a better look. Mac pulled out his computer and tried to get a signal on the GPS to track Kitt's exact location.

"He's not getting on the freeway, he's taking side streets," Mac said. He pointed at the blinking dot on the computer screen. "He's stopping here. I think there's a fast food joint on that corner."

We stared at that blinking dot for the next few minutes. It wasn't going anywhere but we would be ready if it did. Reid and Foxy returned after selecting the perfect hiding spot, and we filled them in on the progress. The blinking dot finally started moving again, but it was only to return back home.

"I guess he was just hungry," Foxy said.

"Yeah, but at least we know it works," Mac said.

Mac spent the next hour rigging the tree with a night vision camera and talking to Manny and the cops about how the events of the night would go down. Mac wanted to make sure not to miss a bit of the action and had every scenario worked out. My cell phone would ring every once in a while with my mother or sister calling, but I didn't bother to pick up. I just sat back and let Mac and the cops run my show.

*****

By the time we got back to the hotel, it was almost seven, and we were all starving. We decided to stay local and try the pub at the hotel.

It was a typical pub with a dark wood bar trimmed with brass fixtures. The perimeter of the bar was lined with booths covered in green vinyl and the walls were covered with various Irish beer posters. There were only two other tables occupied, so the place was ours for the taking. We selected a table in the back of the restaurant with seating for six. The chairs were low and wooden with curved backs. I hated these types of chairs because the only way they were comfortable was if you leaned all the way back and stared at the ceiling. I was yearning for comfort, and I wasn't going to get it here.

Foxy sat at the head of the table and Reid sat at the foot. I sat next to Reid with Mac next to me and Manny across from me. We all grabbed the menus and browsed them hungrily.

"Send the waitress over right away, would you, honey?" Foxy said to the hostess. "We're hungry over here."

It was a minute or so before the waitress came by, and when she got there, we were ready. She was in her fifties and a little overweight. She wore a black pair of jeans, a black polo shirt and an apron. There was a pencil tucked behind her ear. I knew she was the real thing.

"I hear we've got a hungry bunch. You set to order?" she asked.

"Yes!" we all said in unison. Foxy got a double cheeseburger and fries. I ordered a steak sandwich with grilled onions and melted cheese. Reid thought my order sounded good, so he got the same thing. Manny got the quesadillas because they were the most Mexican entree he could find on the menu, and Mac got a whole wheat turkey wrap with a side salad. We gave Mac some sideways looks about his order, but he brushed them off. We also ordered two appetizer samplers and asked the waitress to put a rush on it.

"Anything to drink?" she asked.

"Yeah, give me whatever stout you have on tap," Foxy said.

"Two," Reid said.

Mac and I looked at each other and shrugged. These were rugged guys – they could probably handle drinking ten beers before starting a shift. I decided if you can't beat 'em, join 'em and ordered a lager. Mac and Manny ordered local ales, and we sent the waitress on her merry way.

There wasn't much conversation as we waited for our food. Pretty much all anyone said was "The food is taking forever" or "I'm so hungry I could eat my hand."

Finally, the waitress walked over carrying our two appetizer platters. The bartender followed behind her carrying a tray of drinks. We had only been waiting maybe ten minutes, but all of our faces lit up as they approached. I grabbed a hot wing, covered it in blue cheese dressing and gobbled it up. I knew if my sister could see me now she would have a heart attack. My dress had to be let out as it was – this would kill her.

"Those wings go well with your complexion," Foxy joked.

I looked down at the orange wing and frowned. "Really? It's still that bad? I washed it off...I thought."

"He's just messing with you Sharpe – it looks much better," Mac said, placing an arm around my shoulder.

"Mac, any movement on the tracker?" Reid asked.

"Um, I don't think so," Mac said. He pulled his arm away from me to pull out his laptop and check the signal. "No, he's still at home."

"This is gonna be a long night," Foxy said. "Reid, why don't you shack up with Sharpe tonight. I'll get Sherry's parents to babysit and we can have a special night."

"I'll tell you what – if Kitt isn't moving by ten, you have yourself a deal," Reid said.

Suddenly all eyes were on me. "You're not sleeping in my room," I warned Reid. "I only have one bed."

Reid slid his arm around my chair. "I know, Sharpe." He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I'll sleep in the car."

"Oh," I smiled. Originally I had thought poorly of the chairs in the pub, but now I was starting to like them. I had felt more arms around me tonight than I had in months, and I was enjoying it.

"Thanks, man, this is awesome!" Foxy said. "I saved some of those condoms from the dead guy."

"You're gonna use a dead man's condoms?" I asked. "Isn't that a little sick?"

Foxy shrugged.

"Why you using condoms, bro? I mean don't you get married so you don't have to?" Manny asked.

"No, Manny, that's not why you get married," I answered. "But it does explain why you have five brothers and three sisters."

We all sipped our beers and feasted on the appetizers. It wasn't long before the plates were empty and our bellies were full. We were in much better spirits and looking forward to the events that lay ahead.

For the next few hours, Mac regaled us with war stories from the field. He told us about how he was bitten by a venomous snake in Australia while filming a documentary and how his producer had to suck the venom from his leg. Then he explained how he was separated from the rest of his crew in Africa during a colossal rainstorm and had to live off the earth for three days until they were able to locate him. Apparently, he was able to start a fire using his canvas belt and a miniature screw driver to send up smoke signals for help. He had to use all the clothes he was wearing to protect the fire from the rain, so when the rescue team finally found him, he was wearing clothes he had woven out of vegetation. Mac's machismo could definitely get on my nerves, but at least the stories were helping to pass the time.

Mac was monitoring the tracking device, but so far, there had been no movement. I was having a nice time and not exactly looking forward to tonight's stakeout. At the same time, I was racing against the clock to get this story done and needed everything to go down tonight if I wanted to have a chance at witnessing it. Every once in a while I would glance over at Reid, who seemed to be resting his hand on the back of my chair more often than not. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but I couldn't help feeling like he was staking a claim over me in front of the other guys. Whatever the reason was, I liked having his hand there.

At around nine thirty, Mac's computer started to beep.

"Oh man, come on!" Foxy said. "Sherry was just about to drop the kids with her mother."

"Maybe he's just running another errand," I said.

"No, he's coming here. Two months – two months and we were finally going to have our moment! Son of a bitch!"

We all stared at Foxy, embarrassed that we knew the details of his sex life down to the brand of condoms he planned to use. Foxy realized he had said too much too, so he stood up and stormed off towards the bathroom.

Mac was staring at the computer screen. "He's heading towards the track."

Reid and I nodded. This wasn't necessarily a good or a bad thing, but we both knew the later we waited, the less chance we had of him coming.

Thirty minutes later, Kitt was still at the track and Foxy was back in business. Sherry was heading down, and Reid was officially without a hotel room. Foxy said goodnight to us and went to his room to prepare for his big night. Reid promised Foxy he would call him only if something serious came up. Manny went up to his room too, saying that he needed to catch up on his hotel porn, and asked us to call him if anything happened. That left me, Mac, and Reid. We had been sitting at the table for a long time, and any effects we may have felt from the first beer had certainly worn off by now.

"What do you guys want to do?" I asked.

"I can wait it out," Mac said.

"Me too," Reid said.

"Okay, then should we order another round?"

"Sure," Reid said and signaled the waitress.

When I was in college, I never drank beer. I loved wine, and living so close to the Napa Valley, I had acquired quite a palate for it. My parents used to take my sister and me wine tasting when we were younger because my mother felt that an education in wine was equally as important as an education in math or science. I still loved wine, but as I'd grown older I'd learned to appreciate pairing the right drink with the right meal. When you're in Beverly Hills dining two tables away from your favorite celebrity, you go for the vino. When you're at a pub twenty miles from the Mexican border, beer is the appropriate choice.

The waitress brought over my second bucket of suds, and I took a refreshing sip. The steak sandwich I had eaten was surprisingly good, and I decided this second beer was my dessert.

"You've been telling us your stories all night, Mac. I want to hear a good Sharpe story," Reid said.

Mac thought hard, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "I've got one."

Reid placed his arm behind my chair again and leaned in to listen to the story.

"We were up in Rochester, New York in the dead of winter shooting this show on ugly housewives."

I smiled at Mac. I knew the story.

"It was close to midnight and we were still wrapping up some interviews inside this old house. I was shooting and Sharpe was asking the questions."

"Producing, I was producing," I corrected.

"Right. Anyway, we finally finished up and me and the sound guy started wrapping up the equipment. Sharpe was getting all pissy because it was late and she wanted to go back to the hotel, so she grabbed a few things and stormed out the back door of the house. It was pitch black out there, so dark that all I could see was the white trim on her jacket."

"I was rushing but I couldn't see a thing," I chimed in. "I took a hard step and felt the ground give out from under me. I started falling and I couldn't stop. Then I felt a rush of freezing water on my legs."

"She walked right onto the cover of an in-ground pool!" Mac laughed.

Reid cracked a smile too.

"I lunged for the solid ground. I saw Mac and I grabbed his arm. Half my leg was in the pool at that point and it was so cold I couldn't even scream – I was just gasping. Luckily, Mac was there and pulled me out."

"You should have seen her afterwards. If she was pissed before, she was a maniac after!" Mac laughed.

"Well, who the hell has a pool in Rochester? It's summer for like three minutes there. And where was the fence? Aren't you supposed to have a fence around pools?"

Reid was laughing pretty hard. "I can picture you, Sharpe, getting all mad. Just like that day when you called me out in the parking lot."

"She called you out?" Mac asked.

"Oh yeah, she called me an asshole and everything," Reid laughed.

I smiled. "I call 'em like I see 'em."

"Whoa!" Reid said. "I think that was a shot!"

"Oh yeah, that was a shot," Mac agreed.

"Okay, okay, I've got one for you – a Mac story," I said. "We were shooting a show in Las Vegas called _Racing to Win_ about couples who competed in physical challenges like running to all the wedding chapels in Vegas or whatever."

Mac was shaking his head. "Do not tell this story!" He tried to cover my mouth, but I fought him off.

"We were shooting the couples lounging by the pool and it was like over a hundred degrees out. So Mac over here decides that he wants to pull his camera's power from the sun instead of the battery pack."

"It was very green of me."

"Yeah, so he jerry-rigs his camera with a coat hanger, some tinfoil and a piece of sheet metal."

"I was bored _and_ it worked," Mac explained.

"Yes, a little too well," I said. "He went to change the tape and electrocuted himself. The current went through his hand and out his leg. He was shaking so bad I had to rip his hand off the camera. Everyone at the pool was staring because Mac had a big spot on his pants where he'd wet himself." I started laughing. "For the next few hours any time Mac saw something shiny he would bark like a dog and his left leg would shake like crazy."

Reid laughed, but Mac looked angry.

"I could have died, Victoria," Mac stated flatly.

"Yes, but it was funny, Hank," I said, using his real name.

"Don't get bent out of shape, bro," Reid said. "I've had plenty of times when I pissed myself on this job."

I leaned in, smiling. "Do tell."

"No, I can't," Reid said, shaking his head. "I'll never live it down."

"Come on!" I said, placing my hand on Reid's. "I've had plenty of embarrassing moments during this shoot already. You have to give us something."

"All right. It was when I was a rookie. It was my second week on the job and I was doing patrol. I was driving around with my partner and we were cruising on the 405 trying to bust people for speeding."

"Good luck. I don't think I've gotten past twenty miles an hour on that road once." I said.

"It was late and this red sports car speeds by me, so I turned on the sirens and pulled the driver over. I got to the car and the driver was this kid who was like ten years old. He told me that his father was the head of a movie studio and he was allowed to drive even though he was underage. He said he knew the mayor and then offered me a part in one of his Dad's movies if I let him go. I told him I couldn't do that and that I'd have to call his father."

"How old were you?" I asked.

"I was like nineteen, all tough and macho. I wasn't gonna let this little snot push me around. So the kid gets out of the car and says his father's phone number is in his journal in the trunk. Next thing I know he pulls out a BB gun and starts firing at me!"

I cracked a smile.

"He clipped me an inch below my nuts and it scared the shit out of me. I pissed my pants so bad I had to throw them out afterwards. I started screaming like a girl and begging him to stop. I jumped into my car and took off at high speed. The worst was that my partner was sitting in the passenger seat the whole time, watching and laughing. He told everyone at the station and then I got the nickname."

I grabbed Reid's shoulder and shook him. "Come on, tell me!"

"Reid Peed," Reid whispered.

I cracked up laughing.

"It's not funny – that name stuck for a long time. I had to change districts."

"That's okay, my brother-in-law calls me Vapor Rub."

"Yeah, I know. That's a good one."

"It's okay, but it's no Reid Peed," I joked. I took another swig of my beer, enjoying the repartee with Reid.

"So what's next for you, Sharpe?" Reid asked, pulling a hair away from my face that had come loose from behind my ear.

"I don't have anything lined up yet, but I still have three more episodes to go after this one. I am sure you will be disappointed when we start following another team."

Reid smiled but didn't answer.

"I booked a gig for _Wedding Belles_ after this show wraps – it's about southern belles on their wedding days," Mac said.

I realized that I had been sitting with my back to Mac during Reid's whole story. It was rude, and I could tell by the tone of his voice that Mac was annoyed. I leaned back in my chair and faced him.

"Are you being serious, dude?" Reid asked.

"It's not all action and adventure in this line of work," Mac said defensively. "Sometimes you have to focus on paying the bills."

"Living through my sister's wedding is torture enough – I don't think I could handle all those southern bridezillas," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'll pack lots of aspirin."

"Who knows, maybe you'll have a love affair with one of the bridesmaids. They're usually pretty easy, right?" I said.

"I guess we'll find out Sunday night," Mac said, taking a shot at me.

"Very funny. I'll be lucky if I can stay awake at Ginny's wedding – I'm so exhausted."

"Well, sometimes when you drink too much..."

I raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes what?"

Mac looked over at Reid. "She told you what happened between the two of us, right? The kiss."

My face went white. I could not believe he was bringing this up after all this time, in front of Reid no less. I finally had a man paying some attention to me, and my good buddy Mac was determined to ruin it.

"That was years ago, Mac. I barely even remember it," I said dismissively.

"I just noticed that you were getting a little friendly with the detective here and I wondered if it was the beer talking."

My eyes almost popped out of my head – was he seriously saying this right now? I tried to stay calm but I felt my blood boiling and my hands starting to shake. "Don't try to paint a bad picture of me because of one mistake I made with you. Believe me, that would NEVER happen again."

"Look it sounds like you two have some unresolved issues and I don't want to get involved," Reid said, removing his arm from the back of my chair.

"No, you're fine," I said to Reid. "Mac just has his panties in a bunch for some reason."

"I'm gonna get a room for myself at the front desk. Just call me if Kitt starts moving," Reid said, quickly standing up and walking away.

When he was far enough away I turned to Mac angrily. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you say all that?"

"What? We were joking around. Besides, you told him about my accident in Vegas – that was uncalled for."

"So what? He told us that he had the same problem. I know you're Mister Perfect and everything, Mac, but not every story can be about how you created a shelter from your jock-strap or dismantled a bomb using a toothpick and dental floss!"

"I never said that!"

"Don't make me look stupid in front of Reid, okay? I've been gaining his respect, and I need it to get this story."

"You just want to get in his pants."

I stood up in a rage. "That is none of your business, Mac, so why don't you just shut up!"

"Whoa, Sharpe, calm down. I just don't want you to get hurt, okay?"

"Well, you have a lousy way of showing it." I didn't know if it was the two beers or my exhaustion, but tears started falling out of my eyes. "You have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince, you know! My sister is getting married on Sunday – she found happiness, don't I deserve that too? You think I like being thirty and still single? I don't!"

Mac's face dropped once he realized he had made me cry.

"You're thirty-five and you're single too. Don't you ever get sick of it?" I asked through my tears.

Mac stood up and put his arms around me. "Yeah, I get sick of it, of course I do. Look, I'm sorry, okay? Sometimes I just get a little territorial with you."

I let Mac hug me for a while as I gained my composure. I looked up to see Reid standing a few feet away from us.

"Uh, they need the credit card number at the front desk."

I wiped my tears away. "Oh, okay."

"I can share with Manny if you guys want to be alone," Reid said to us.

"No, man, it's not like that. Not at all," Mac said. "I'll take care of the front desk." Mac patted Reid on the shoulder and walked past him.

"What the hell was that about?" Reid asked me.

"Mac likes everyone to think he's like this lion tamer, and it upset him that I told a story that made him look weak."

"Seems to me like the guy has a thing for you," Reid said.

"No, he was just trying to embarrass me," I said.

"That must have been some kiss."

"I hardly even remember it," I said.

I glanced at Mac's computer, which was still sitting on the counter. "He's still at the track. I'm gonna head up to my room and lie down. If he seems like he's heading this way, I'll have Mac call us."

I gave Reid a weak smile and walked past him. I was exhausted mentally and physically and upset with Mac for ruining what had started out as a very enjoyable night. I passed Mac at the front desk and motioned to him that he should call me if anything came up, and he nodded. I headed towards the elevators and up to my room.

As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I started to think about Reid. Maybe all the talk about him being my boyfriend was affecting me because I was starting to like the idea. Tonight had been fun for me. It felt nice to have a guy putting his arm around my chair and laughing at my jokes. Of course Mac managed to ruin the evening, but before that, things had been good. Maybe I was a fool – this guy didn't like me from day one, and I didn't like him. Still, maybe if I was softening, so was he. I remembered him brushing my hair behind my ears – that was a sign of affection, right?

I decided to put aside my concerns about whether or not Reid liked me and focus on something more fun – sex. I fantasized that he'd knock on my door in the middle of the night looking all hot and bothered. His hair would be tousled and he'd wear a tight black t-shirt. He'd ask if he could come in and before I knew it, his lips would be locked with mine. I got to the part in the fantasy where I was running my hands across the rippling muscles on his chest, then I drifted off to sleep.

### Chapter 11.

I awoke to the sound of knocking at my door. "Sharpe, it's Reid. You awake?"

I gasped and ran over to the mirror. I had been dreaming about Reid stopping by, and now he really was. My hair was a disaster and my breath was in serious need of refreshment. "Um, just a minute," I said. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and quickly brushed my teeth. I pinched my cheeks to give them that natural pink glow and wiped the sleep out of my eyes. I was wearing my two-piece pink cotton pajamas. The top was a loose-fitting, button-down short sleeved shirt and the bottom was shorts. I gave my legs a quick check. I had shaved them maybe two days ago and they weren't in great shape, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I cursed myself for not being more prepared.

"Sharpe, what's going on in there?" Reid asked through the door.

"Coming!" I said. I glanced at the clock as I ran over to the door. It was eleven thirty. I had gone upstairs around ten, so Reid must have been trying to work up the nerve for quite a while. I smoothed out my clothes and opened my door, leaning seductively against the door jamb. I smiled. "Hi."

Reid glanced at me up and down. "Kitt's dead."

My face dropped. "What?"

"PD just called it in – bullet to the face. I want to get down there right away."

I was in total shock. Here I was expecting a booty call, and instead, I was finding out the guy I had once thought was pretty sexy was dead.

"Why don't I help you pack up your stuff – we need to get out of here," Reid said.

I stood still, paralyzed, still processing everything. On the one hand, this was huge for the story. This proved that we were right and that Chaser wasn't just run down randomly. On the other hand, I couldn't be happy that someone else was killed, and I couldn't help but wonder if someone else was next. Reid placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, snapping out of it.

Reid walked past me and threw my suitcase on the bed. He started opening the drawers of my dresser and dumping the contents into the bag. I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him in silence.

Reid opened the top dresser drawer and grabbed my bra and panties. I knew he was trying to be nice and not to invade my privacy, but I saw the smirk on his face when he saw the cotton days-of-the-week underpants I got at the dollar store. He dumped them into the suitcase and then went into the bathroom to get my toiletries.

I think it was the panties that drew me back into reality, and I realized I was just sitting on the bed doing nothing when I should have been getting dressed. I grabbed my jeans and a t-shirt out of the suitcase and walked into the bathroom. Reid was throwing all my stuff in a bag.

"I can do that. I'll meet you downstairs in a few, okay?" I said.

"You sure you're okay? You seem a little out of it."

"I was just surprised and I'm tired, that's all."

Reid walked past me and out of the room. I walked into the bathroom and quickly changed. I realized I was still wearing my Saturday panties. Thank goodness Reid hadn't come for a booty call – I would have humiliated myself!

When I got down to the lobby, all of the guys were down there already. Foxy had a big grin on his face, and his wife Sherry was standing next to him.

"You must be Sherry," I said to her, walking over to shake her hand. "I'm Vicky."

"You're Sharpe?" Sherry said, not smiling.

"Yes, Victoria Sharpe."

Sherry gave me a good, long once-over. I suddenly felt like I was naked. She shook her head when she spoke. "I usually call Reid the other woman in Foxy's life. Now it looks like I have a real live one to worry about."

I wasn't sure if she was joking or being serious, but she seemed agitated. Maybe sex did that to her. "Ah, I wouldn't worry too much," I said, smiling.

"Why not? Don't you find my husband attractive?"

Foxy placed a hand on Sherry's shoulder. "Sherry, come on. She's in love with Reid."

"I am not!" I corrected.

"I asked you a question," Sherry said, glaring at me.

Foxy was such a funny guy, I figured she had to be putting me on. "You're Sherry Pie, right? I mean, with a name like that, I thought you'd be a little nicer."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sherry said, moving her head back and forth like a bobble-head doll. "I should thank you for calling my husband a fat disgusting troll, right?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure I didn't say that."

"Yeah, but you thought it."

"No, I didn't!"

"Lima bean!" Foxy called out.

I guessed that was their code word for "you're acting crazy," because Sherry instantly softened. It was almost like she was hypnotized and "lima bean" was the only phrase that could free her.

"Oh, excuse me. Sorry about that." She cleared her throat. "I understand you are responsible for these deluxe accommodations."

"Oh, yeah. It's not really me, it's the production," I said.

"Well, we enjoyed ourselves, didn't we, sugar?" Sherry said to Foxy sweetly. He nuzzled her neck and whispered something that made her laugh. This was a Jekyll and Hyde moment if ever I saw one.

Sherry looked at me and then turned and kissed Foxy full on the mouth, tongue and everything. It was like she was bragging to me that he belonged to her. It was nice that she thought her husband was that desirable, but I was definitely not interested. I actually found their display kind of disgusting.

"I'm gonna ride down there with Sher, okay, Reid?" Foxy said.

Reid picked up his bag and headed towards the door. Before he got outside, he stopped and turned. "Sharpe, you riding with me?"

My heart skipped a beat, and I knew the damage Mac had done wasn't too bad. "Yes, coming," I said, running after him. "I'll meet you guys down there," I called back to a tired-looking Mac and Manny.

I threw my bag in the trunk of Reid's car and jumped in the front seat. Reid sat in the driver's seat and turned on the car.

"That was weird, huh?" I said to Reid.

"What, Sherry? Yeah, she's a little psycho sometimes. She gets jealous of me too."

"Are you okay to drive?" I asked. "You must be exhausted."

"Yeah, I'm okay, but I need someone to talk to me to keep me alert. I figured I could count on your big mouth to entertain me."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I asked.

Reid shrugged. "We gotta find Rose." He picked up his cell phone and made a call. "Yeah, I need to put a BOLO out for Rosario Ortez. R-O-S-A-R-I-O O-R-T-E-Z." Reid nodded and hung up.

"What's a BOLO?" I asked.

"It's a be-on-the-lookout – we need to haul her in, she knows something."

"Do they have any suspects for Kitt?"

"I don't know – I don't have a lot of information."

"Where did it happen?"

"Outside the track – in the parking lot."

"Well, someone must have seen something," I said.

"That's what I'm banking on."

Reid pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He waved the pack at me, but I declined.

"I forgot you smoked," I said.

"It's just to stay awake." Reid rolled down the window and lit up. We didn't speak for the next twenty minutes. I knew I wasn't helping matters with my silence, but I had too many thoughts running through my mind. Had Rose done this? Maybe someone knew that we knew about the Mexican operation and wanted to take Kitt's place. Maybe Kitt knew who Chaser's killer was and the killer wanted to take out everyone involved. Rose could be the killer or the next victim. There were so many ifs, and I needed hard facts for my story. I debated calling Lenny but decided to wait until I had more information. Besides, it was late, and I'd already gotten him back for waking me up in the middle of the night. I didn't need to do it to him again.

I glanced over at Reid and saw that his eyes were droopy and that his head kept dropping down over his chest. "Do you want me to drive?" I asked.

Reid shook his head, trying to fight off the sleep. "No, I'm okay. We'll stop for coffee in a little while."

I knew I had to keep him awake or both of us would end up lying in a ditch off the road somewhere. "Did I ever tell you about the time I posed in a line-up?"

Reid smiled. "Posed? It's not a modeling gig, Sharpe."

"Posed, participated, whatever. Anyway, I was in college and the cops paid me twenty bucks to stand in a line-up for them."

"Who were they looking for?"

I paused. "A hooker."

Reid laughed out loud. "You're lucky the victim didn't finger you."

"I know, I was shaking in my boots the whole time. My mother had cut my allowance and I needed beer money for the week. Actually, it was wine money – I was kinda classy in those days."

"So you pretended to be a hooker to maintain your highbrow lifestyle?"

"Exactly," I said. "Did you go to college?"

"Yeah, for like two years. I knew I wanted to be a cop, but my mother wouldn't hear of having an uneducated son."

"Did you go to USC or UCLA?"

"UCLA. You're USC, right?" Reid asked.

I nodded. UCLA was more of a school for jocks, and USC had all the film geeks. "Did you go to private school when you were growing up?"

"Does anyone in LA go to public school?" Reid asked.

"I think some people do."

"Not if they have parents like we do. Did you know that my mother held auditions for my first date? I was in seventh grade and we had a dance at a hotel in Beverly Hills. I was too chicken to ask any of the girls out that I liked, so my mother hired an actress and paid her scale for the night."

I laughed. "Oh, that's funny. Was she hot?"

"Yeah, she was hot. She was also like eighteen and I was thirteen. I felt like I was on a date with an escort."

"Well, you were."

"All the guys in my class were so jealous – I never told them who she really was. And then after the dance I told them that I dumped her. That made me a hero and I was Mister Popular after that."

"You don't seem like someone who would like all that attention."

"I'm not, but it beat the alternative. Plus I finally got up the nerve to ask out the girl I wanted to."

"And did she say yes?"

"Of course, Sharpe, come on."

"Oh, excuse me."

"But she dumped me a week later and then she became the popular one."

"That's how it goes, right? I used to beg my mom to take me to work with her when she was interviewing a new teen heartthrob I had a crush on. It was the same every time – she would introduce him to me, I would turn brick red and lock up. I was lucky if I could get out the word 'hello.'"

"You? Shy? I don't buy it."

"I'm not shy but I definitely get starstruck. You'd think that I would get used to meeting celebrities in this town, but I never did."

"I took the easy way out and told my parents I didn't care about meeting celebrities; I was too cool. Do you remember that show _Hot Girl?_ My mom tried to introduce me to the star – the actual _Hot Girl_ – and I refused to meet her. Can you believe that?"

"Yeah, but weren't a lot of your neighbors celebrities? I mean, they had kids right?"

"Not really," Reid said. "At that time in Hollywood, pregnancy was career suicide."

"I know. My mother hit it big after my sister and I were born, but even so, she'd never let on to anyone that she had kids. She finally started talking about us when we were like ten and twelve and weren't regarded as people who would compromise her career."

"Is your job like that too?" Reid asked.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I mean, there are no set hours – I can't exactly be like, 'I'm sorry, victims, can you get murdered between the hours of nine and five so I can get my baby from daycare?' You know?"

"Yeah, my job is like that too."

"I guess we both need to marry rich so we don't have to work. How big is your trust fund?" I asked.

Reid looked at me and smiled. "It's decent. So I'll stay home and you can continue to work."

"You'll stay home with the baby?"

"And the nanny."

"Okay, that's fair, just as long as the nanny is some sixty-year-old grandmother."

"Oh man, I was thinking more like an eighteen-year-old import from Brazil."

I shook my head and smiled. "Since we're planning to marry, I think there is something we need to get out in the open."

Reid placed an arm behind the headrest on my seat and looked at me. "What's that?"

"I know you saw my days-of-the-week underwear."

Reid burst out laughing. "I _was_ caught a little off guard."

"I had to pick something up in a hurry after I got the spray tan because my old underpants turned orange, and you can't just buy one day, you have to buy the whole week. Plus they ended up being really comfortable."

Reid patted my back. "It's okay, Sharpe. I hadn't seen those in a while – I thought they were cute."

"Uh-huh, well, I just wanted you to know that I don't normally wear those."

"Oh yeah, what type do you usually wear?" Reid asked, smiling.

I felt my whole face turn red, and I shook my head. "Never mind."

We pressed on for another hour or so and reached the race track at two in the morning. We were tired, but the conversation definitely helped keep us going. We pulled into the parking lot of the race track to see several cop cars and the ME team truck. There was a lot of caution tape hung around, and a high-powered spotlight was shinning down on Kitt who was laying face-up on the ground. We got out of the car and I followed Reid to the scene.

"Wait, wait!" I called to Reid. "I'm sorry, can we just wait for the film crew before you go in?"

Reid sighed deeply and I felt terrible. I knew how tired we both were and how badly he wanted to just get this over with, but I had to do my job. Reid threw his hands up in the air. Luckily Mac and Manny pulled in five minutes later with Foxy right behind them. Manny mic'd the cops quickly and before I knew it, they were charging onto the scene with the crew and me chasing behind them.

Reid lifted the caution tape and walked over to the body. The medical examiner was crouched down over the victim. I looked down at Kitt's mangled face. It looked like a pepperoni pizza, only the pepperonis were holes from bullets. There were at least two that I could see. I could feel myself getting lightheaded and before I knew it, I was dry heaving. I felt Reid's arm around me. He turned me around and passed me off to Manny.

"Take care of her, okay?" Reid said.

"Sharpe, go wait in the car," Manny said.

"No, I'm fine," I told him.

"Then keep your back to the stiff, okay, chica? You can lean against me if you want."

That sounded like a good idea to me. I turned around, took a few deep breaths, and listened to the audio through Manny's extra set of headphones.

"I'm Detective Bradley Reid and this is Detective Dustin Flanagan," Reid announced to the ME.

"John Wainwright," the ME said.

"Do we have a time of death?" Reid asked.

"I'm guessing around eleven o'clock, but there are some witnesses over there that the uniforms rounded up, you can ask them."

"Can you give us the make of the weapon?" Foxy asked.

"Yeah, these are thirty-eights. The weapon was a Ruger handgun fired at close range. There are two in his face, but we found casings for four bullets total. I'd say the shooter was maybe ten feet away. This poor soul never had a chance."

As the ME described what happened to Kitt, I could visualize every detail. I wondered if he knew the killer and whether he saw it coming. Could Rose have done this? She was tough, but I didn't know if she was tough enough to shoot a man in the face at close range.

Manny tapped me. "We're moving," he said.

I turned and followed the crew as they followed Reid and Foxy over to some uniformed cops sipping coffee outside of their vehicle. The back door was open, and two men were seated inside. One of them looked familiar to me, and I figured I must have seen him at the track. He was dressed in black tight jeans and a red and black flannel shirt. He had black spiky hair and looked like he belonged in a rock band. The other guy had long wavy hair and was wearing a pair of oversized blue jeans and a large t-shirt. He had more of the skater look, and he had an "x" tattooed on his hand. I knew from my youth that this meant he was drug free, alcohol free, and I couldn't remember the third thing – either sex or cigarettes. I knew I wouldn't be getting an "x" tattooed on my hand any time soon. I could do without the drugs and the cigarettes and probably even the sex, but the alcohol was a must.

The two cops standing outside the car looked like they just wanted to be done with this investigation.

"Are you the responding officers?" Foxy asked one of the cops.

The cop he addressed had a short military style crew-cut, while the other cop had more of a scruffy look. They were actually an odd duo – one seemed like he was probably in the Marines and took neatness and order seriously, while the shaggy one looked like he slept in a different bed each night. Looking at the contrast, I felt strangely disappointed that I hadn't been assigned to this pair. Then again, I had developed quite a liking for Foxy and Reid.

"Yes sir," The neat cop began. "Dispatch received a call at twenty-three hundred hours from a witness reporting a gang-like execution. They reported that the victim was walking off the race track when a vehicle sped around the corner and fired several shots at the victim."

"And these are your witnesses?" Foxy asked, pointing in the car.

"Yes sir. You can get their accounts if you'd like. I've already interviewed them and I can provide you with my notes if needed," the neat cop said.

"Thank you – um..."

"Officer Mike Wallace," he said.

"Thank you, Officer Wallace, that won't be necessary. If I have any questions I will contact you."

"Does that mean we can go? We ain't getting any younger here," the scruffy cop said.

"Yeah, just get the witnesses out of your back seat," Foxy said.

"Are we on television?" Mike Wallace asked.

Foxy snapped his fingers in the air and signaled me. "Sharpe, get these guys released, okay?"

I pulled some releases out of my purse and gave my spiel to the cops. I was impressed with Foxy – he was learning the television rules and wasn't messing around. He said the words with such authority the cops thought they had to sign. I got them released and they went on their merry way.

Reid told me that he needed to separate the witnesses in order to get proper testimony, so I ran back to the car to grab the PD-150. Reid pulled aside the skateboarder, whom I learned was named Plex, while Foxy, Mac, and Manny covered the rocker, who was named Georgie.

"Listen I know it's late, and I'll try to get you out of here shortly. Just tell me what you saw tonight," Reid began.

"Kitt just finished up a race. It was the last one of the night so we stuck around for a while to shoot the shit."

"Who was there – you and who else?" Reid asked.

"Just me, Kitt and Georgie. We were drinking beers and then around eleven we came out to the parking lot. That's when I saw it – a blur of yellow and black coming towards us."

I glanced at Reid at the mention of the black and yellow car, but he didn't let on that he knew anything.

"Did you recognize the car?" Reid asked.

"Recognize it? It was a freaking taxi cab."

"A what?" Reid asked.

"A cab, dude, a checkered cab."

Reid looked back at me. We were shocked, and I knew we were both trying to mentally replay what that first ME had told us about the yellow and black paint chips. Had he said it was a race car or had we just assumed it was?

"All right, keep going," Reid said.

"So the cab comes blazing in with the window on the passenger's side down. Next thing I know a gun comes out of the window and they start firing. I dove right, but they didn't follow me – they wanted Kitt. They got him twice in the face and then screamed out something in Spanish. Then they took off."

"Could you get a plate or a medallion number or anything?" Reid asked.

"No, dude, I was too busy cradling my balls – you know what I'm saying? I didn't know what the hell happened or even that Kitt was down until after they left."

"Would you be able to describe the shooter?"

"Dude was Spanish, I know that much. But he had like a bandana over his nose and mouth. He looked like a gang-banger, but I've never heard of no gang-bangers riding around in taxis."

"How about the driver?"

"He was covered too. But they were Spanish, dude, definitely Spanish. One of them had long hair – kind of like Georgie's hair, but more curly."

"Are you sure they were men? Could either one have been a woman?"

Plex considered that for a while. Finally he shrugged. "Maybe, dude, but I don't think so. Looked like a guy to me."

"Did Kitt say anything to you that made you think he was in danger?" Reid asked.

"Like 'I think some crazy Mexican cabbies are gonna kill me'? No, dude."

"Did he tell you about anything he was into that was illegal?"

Plex shot Reid a crazy look. "You're a cop, right? I'm not stupid here."

Reid's face tightened. "Look, I don't give a shit about you or what you might be doing. I am trying to solve a murder here, _dude_ , so if you know something, tell me. Even the simplest thing could lead us to a clue."

"Maybe he did some blow or whatever but he wasn't a dealer if that's what you're asking."

"What were you guys talking about before you left?" Reid asked.

"I don't know – guy shit. He was banging that chick Rose – I think he was going to meet her after."

"Where – at her apartment?"

"I guess so."

Reid nodded. "Okay, if you think of anything else, give me a call." Reid handed Plex a business card and Plex took off.

Foxy was almost finished interviewing Georgie when we headed over there. When Foxy finished, Mac and Manny followed him with the camera as he walked up to Reid. Foxy had a small notebook open, and he was flipping through the pages.

"A damn taxi," Foxy said. "I've been checking my notes – the old lady never said it was a race car. I think that ME had a hunch and it was wrong."

Reid shook his head. "Do you think the driver could have been a woman?"

"My guy didn't think so, but with the masks it's hard to tell," Foxy said.

"My guy had two people in the taxi – the passenger was the shooter."

"Yeah, my guy said that too."

"Okay, we can compare notes in the car, but first we've got to notify the next of kin," Reid said.

"His mother lives in Albuquerque – I can call her. What about Rose – anything from PD on her?" Foxy asked.

"No. I called in a BOLO but I still think we should cruise by her house. Plex said he thought Kitt was meeting her tonight after the race."

"Maybe she met him first."

"Even if she did, she wasn't alone." Reid shook his head. "I'm too tired to think anymore. I need some sleep."

"We all do, dude. I'll call the mother in the morning, okay?" Foxy said. "The captain will give us hell but I don't give a shit. I can't think straight. We can drive by Rose's house and if she's not there, we'll pick this up in the morning."

We all agreed to that plan. I was exhausted and I had my sister's rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. I was hoping we could get this all wrapped up tonight at the border, but now we just had more questions.

We took two cars to Rose's house. The cops knocked on the door and looked in the windows, but she wasn't there. None of us expected her to be and none of us particularly wanted her to be, either. Foxy signaled that she wasn't home and Mac drove Manny and me home.

I had gotten into the routine of falling asleep before my head hit the pillow, and tonight was no exception. I was out like a light.

### Chapter 12.

I woke up thinking that I was really glad I had not become a cop. I was also thinking that the gig Mac had lined up next with the fussy brides was sounding pretty darn good right about now.

My phone rang, and I picked it up on the first ring.

"Are you alive? I half expected to get a call from a Mexican prison last night asking me to bail you out," my mother said.

"Yes, Mom, I'm fine. Just tired."

"Your sister is a nervous wreck. She woke up with puffy eyes, you know. I have tea bags resting on them right now trying to reduce the swelling."

"It sounds like you have everything under control. It's at seven tonight, right?"

"Victoria, don't you dare be late, you hear me? And wear something nice – a dress."

"Of course I'm going to wear a dress, Mom, jeez!"

"Which one?" my mother asked.

"The black one with the scoop neck."

"Again? Don't you have anything else?"

"It makes me look thin so I'm wearing it, okay? I have to work. I'll see you tonight." I hung up and glanced at my alarm clock. It was eleven fifty-nine. "Huh! Holy shit!" I jumped out of bed and grabbed my cell phone. I dialed Mac.

"Where the hell are you, Sharpe? We thought maybe the killer got you," Mac said into the phone.

"That's really not funny. I overslept – I'm coming now."

I only lived ten minutes from the station, so in theory I could get there very fast, but I also knew that tonight was the rehearsal dinner and I couldn't show up with greasy hair and yesterday's deodorant. My mother would likely coat her walls with photos from the wedding and rehearsal dinner, and I didn't want to look at those pictures ten years from now and regret not having showered. I took a warm shower and washed my hair through twice with shampoo and once with conditioner. I didn't know if I would have time to stop back home before going to the dinner, so I threw my dress in a bag along with an array of makeup. I spent the extra time to blow out my hair using the diffuser and even put on some lipstick. Forty-five minutes later, I was walking out the door.

I felt guilty and terrible that I slept in, but I also knew that if something was really cooking, I would have gotten a call about it. I breezed into the station with my flowing hair and just a hint of perfume. Reid and Foxy were at their desks in crumpled clothing. Neither had shaved and both were nursing their coffees like they were the only thing keeping them alive. Mac and Manny didn't look much better.

Foxy looked up at me. "You gotta be kidding me."

This was probably the first time in my life I was embarrassed to be clean. "Um, I have the rehearsal dinner tonight so I had to shower. Sorry."

The men grunted and went back to their work. I walked over to Reid, who was rubbing his eyes. "So, what's happening?" I asked.

"A whole lot of nothing. Foxy spoke to Kitt's next of kin this morning."

"Did you break it to her gently, I hope?" I asked Foxy.

Foxy shrugged. "I did it how I always do it."

"She didn't really have any ideas on who would want to kill him and she didn't know about the border gig," Reid said. "Rose is still MIA. We've been calling the taxi companies all morning to try to get a trace on the car. They're sending us their logs to see if there's a gap in time when one of their cabs might have gone off course. There were about fifty guys working last night who meet our description and we have to hit up every one of them."

"Oh my God, that could take forever."

"I know. The captain is going to give us two uniforms to help with the questioning but it's still going to take some time."

"This sounds like a dead end," I said.

"It probably is, but we have to go through the motions. This job isn't all guns and glory, you know."

"Gee, really?" I said rolling my eyes. "We need to find Rose. I feel like she's the missing piece in all this."

"She may be," Foxy said. "Or she may not be. But we have to go with what we've got."

"Those two witnesses from last night are coming in to look at some mug shot books – maybe they can help. Foxy and I are going to split up to check out the cabbies. You can come if you want."

I let out a big yawn, which was rude because it set off a chain reaction and Foxy and Reid started yawning too. I knew it was almost one o'clock, but even with sleeping late I only got maybe six hours in. I needed about a week.

I turned my attention to Mac and Manny. "Okay, guys, we are going to split up. I'll ride with Reid and you two go with Foxy. We're going to question some taxi drivers."

"How come you always get to go with Reid?" Manny said.

My face turned red. "Um, I don't know. Did you want to ride with Detective Reid?"

"He seems to get more action," Manny said and then looked at Foxy. "Sorry, man."

"No, I think that's a good idea. You guys go with Reid and I will go with Foxy," I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

Manny smiled and went to gather up his equipment.

"I'm waiting for those two bozos to show and then we can hit the road," Foxy said to me. "Go get yourself a coffee across the street."

"Okay, that sounds good. Can I get you anything?"

Foxy looked up at me and smiled. "I am so glad you asked. Get me a large black and six jelly donuts."

I nodded absently, turned, and headed across the street.

*****

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb, also known as Georgie and Plex, weren't much help. With the masks the assailants were wearing, they couldn't really identify them at all. They spent an hour or so looking through mug shot books, and then Foxy sent them home.

"Ready to ride with the big dogs?" Foxy asked me.

"Sure."

We had fifteen cab drivers on our to-do list. The cab company we were investigating was called Jiffy Taxi, and we arrived at their dispatch office at two o'clock –- fifteen minutes before the shift change. This particular company worked its drivers in twelve-hour shifts, so the people arriving now would be the same people who were working last night.

Foxy made nice with the dispatcher and grabbed a copy of the logs from the night before. We were able to eliminate a few drivers right off the bat because they had pick-ups across town during the time of the murder or their ethnicity didn't match up with the witness's accounts.

"Do you keep your extra cabs on the lot here or do the drivers take them home at night?" Foxy asked the dispatcher.

The dispatcher, like most of his employees, was Hispanic and called out over the radio almost exclusively in Spanish. There were a few guys that spoke to him in English through thick Indian accents, but Spanish was the predominant language. "No, we keep the cars here. If we let 'em take 'em home, these guys would work round the clock and keep all the cash."

Foxy nodded. "Where do you keep the cars? Are they locked up somewhere?"

"They're in the lot. They're not locked up – but I sit right at the window. I'd see them if they took off, bro."

Foxy nodded and handed the dispatcher a list. "These are the guys I'd like to speak with when they come in, okay?"

The dispatcher looked at the list of six names and nodded. Foxy and I positioned ourselves in the corner of the room and the dispatcher was to direct the taxi drivers over to us. Foxy wouldn't let me videotape because he didn't want anyone to be alarmed or think they were a suspect.

The first cabbie that came in was about five feet tall and had short, black, greased-back hair. He was Mexican and did as he was told when the dispatcher directed him to speak with us.

"Do you speak English?" Foxy asked him.

The man shook his hand in the air indicating that he knew a little.

"What's your name?" Foxy asked.

"¿Cómo te llamas?" I asked and beamed, happy that my rudimentary Spanish could somehow come in handy. I could also ask the suspect where the toilet was and count with him to ten.

"Miguel Guerrero."

"Were you driving your cab last night?" Foxy asked loudly. Foxy must have thought that if he spoke louder the man would somehow understand.

"Sí."

"Do you remember what you were doing around eleven o'clock last night?"

"Onze heures," I added. "Oh wait, that's French."

The man's eyes darted back and forth between me and Foxy. I imagined that he had no idea – the whole twelve-hour shift was probably a blur.

"Uh, uh, driving cab," he finally said. Foxy and I exchanged a glance; this was not going to be easy.

Foxy looked over at the dispatcher and snapped his fingers. "Hey, can you help translate over here?"

"I ain't no translator!" the dispatcher fired back. "I'm working over here."

Another cabbie walked in the office and punched in.

"Juan can help you – he's on your list anyway," the dispatcher said and directed Juan to come talk to us.

Juan was semi-good looking and was wearing a white tank top with an open button-down shirt over it. He walked over to us and looked at me.

"You have some questions for me?" he said in a Spanish accent.

"Yes, we are wondering where you were last night at about eleven o'clock. Can you provide an alibi?" I asked.

"An alibi for what?"

"You don't ask the questions buddy, I do," I said pointing a finger in his face.

"Uh, Sharpe, knock it off, okay?" Foxy said, nudging me.

"Oh." I looked at Juan. "Talk to him."

"I was working last night," Juan said to Foxy.

"I know you were. Do you happen to remember where you were around eleven? There's a gap in your logbook."

Juan's face suddenly turned brick red, and he turned around to make sure the dispatcher wasn't watching. "I was at the OTB, amigo," he whispered.

"Which one?"

"Over on Magnolia."

Foxy nodded. "Is there anyone there that could confirm you were there?"

"I won some bets – they took my driver's license down for that. You're not going to report this, right?"

"Not if you help us, Juan. Your buddy Miguel over here doesn't speak English that well – I want you to ask him the same questions and let us know what he says. Sharpe here can understand Spanish, she just can't speak it, so we'll know if you are lying to us, comprende?"

Juan nodded and spoke to Miguel in Spanish, and Miguel answered back.

"He's not exactly sure on the time, but he had a pick-up in Burbank and then he grabbed something to eat," Juan translated.

Foxy looked at me. "Is that what he said, Sharpe?"

My eyes went wide, but I tried to play it off. "No, it is not," I said. "Juan, we asked you to be straight with us."

"That's what he said, chica! I'm telling you!" Juan defended.

"Don't call me chica," I warned, and then turned to Foxy. "Okay, he's cool."

Foxy checked the logbook. Miguel's recollection fit well enough with the time frame.

Foxy nodded and thanked the men, who exited and headed to their cars.

"This is stupid, none of them are going to say that at eleven o'clock they were shooting a man," I said.

"I know. But your boyfriend likes us to check every lead."

"Stop with the boyfriend stuff."

We interviewed three more cabbies who came in to report for work. The last driver, who was named Gabriel Morales, didn't show up.

"Did Gabriel call in?" Foxy asked the dispatcher.

"No, but this happens all the time. I always overstaff because at least one guy doesn't show up. We do the three strikes rule here."

"How many strikes does he have?" I asked.

"Two."

*****

After Foxy and I finished up, we jumped in his car and headed back to the station. I decided to check in with Mac. They had done a little better because Manny speaks Spanish but didn't come up with much either. Reid had checked in with the two field cops also assigned to the case. One company was automatically discounted because the cabs were black and white instead of black and yellow. The other company came out clean except two men they were going to go check alibis on.

I looked at the clock in the car and saw that it was almost four. I had to be across town for the rehearsal dinner at seven, and I still needed to get dressed. I pulled my visor down and looked in the mirror.

"I feel filthy from that place. At least my hair is holding up."

"You know what I do after I'm in a shit hole like that?" Foxy asked. "I clean out my ears."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously! It just gets all the gunk out, you know?"

"Actually, I did have my ears cleaned at the doctor's office one time and it felt awesome. My mom does the homeopathic stuff where they put a candle in your ear and burn it – she says it's great."

"Pop the glove box, let's cleanse," Foxy said.

I opened the glove box and saw a travel pack of cotton swabs. If this could make me feel like I hadn't spent the past two hours in a greasy, hot cabbie office, then it was well worth it. I grabbed a swab, gave one to Foxy, and we both got to work.

It did feel good, actually, as I turned the swab around in my right ear. "You know, you're right," I said to Foxy. I pulled out the swab, flipped it around and inserted it into my other ear. I turned it back and forth and felt a lot better. I pulled out the swab to throw out the window, but noticed that the top part of the swab was no longer on the stick.

I put my finger in my ear and realized the cotton part was stuck in there. I used my pinky finger to try to pry it out, but I couldn't grab it. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," I said. I reached for it again, and instead of pulling it out, I managed to push it in further. "The tip is stuck in my ear."

Foxy tossed his swab out the window and looked over at me. "Let me see." Foxy looked in my ear. "Yeah, you've got it really jammed up in there. Can you push it out?"

"I'm trying." I put some pressure around my ear trying to squeeze it out but it didn't work. "I need tweezers or something."

"All right, let me pull over somewhere. I have a first aid kit in the trunk."

"This is your fault, you know," I said.

"Yeah, right. It's my fault you can't clean your ears."

"No, these are a crappy brand. If you hadn't cheapened out and bought the generic I wouldn't be in this predicament!"

"Well, they really aren't supposed to go in your ear, Sharpe. I mean, it says that on the package."

"What!? Maybe I didn't hear you right with this cheap-ass cotton stuck in my ear."

"You probably can't judge your volume either because you're kind of yelling," Foxy said to me.

"Just pull over!" I commanded.

"Okay, okay." Foxy pulled off to the side of the road. He stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. I tried to look at my ear in the mirror but it was hard to see the swab – it was really up there.

Foxy returned carrying a first aid kit and opened the passenger door. I gave him a dirty look and swung my legs out so that he could look in my ear more easily. Foxy found a pair of tweezers in the kit and pulled them out.

"Okay, turn your head." I turned and Foxy looked inside. "This might feel a little weird."

I felt the tweezers go in and then I felt Foxy opening and closing them, trying to grip the swab. Instead he caught a tiny hair in my ear and pulled.

"Ow!" I yelped.

Foxy looked at me solemnly, then his lips curled into a smile.

"Don't start laughing. Don't you dare laugh at me," I warned.

"Oh, Sharpe, how do you get yourself into these situations? I think it's stuck in there." I could see his stomach giggling and I knew he was quietly laughing.

"I have my sister's rehearsal dinner tonight – you have to get it out!"

The belly giggled a little more and then Foxy crouched down. "Okay, let me try again."

Foxy inserted the tweezers and, once again, didn't manage to grip anything except a piece of my skin this time. "Damn it!" I called out.

"Honey, I'm sorry, I think we have to go to the hospital. Unless you want to walk around all night saying 'what?'"

I sighed deeply. "I can't believe this. All right, let's go. Can you get me in faster? Tell them I'm a cop or something?"

"I can do you one better – Sherry works over at St. Catherine's."

"Oh, great," I said sarcastically. I hadn't enjoyed my first encounter with her and feared what this next one would bring.

"Well, it beats waiting around for three hours for someone to see you."

Foxy jumped into the driver's seat and we took off. He called Sherry on her cell phone to let her know we were coming.

"Yeah, she's got the tip stuck in her ear," Foxy said, laughing. I could hear Sherry laughing through the other side of the phone, too. I rolled my eyes.

We arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later and Foxy and I rushed into the ER. On the drive, Foxy called not only Sherry, but also Reid and Mac separately. He asked each not to tell the other because he wanted to be the one to deliver the news. Foxy got a lot of mileage out of the story and at one point ran a red light because he was laughing so hard. Luckily, it was my left ear that was blocked, so I could only hear about fifty percent of what he was saying.

I filled out the paperwork at the hospital and waited. Sherry came out about ten minutes later and walked up to us. She had a bright smile on her face and looked like an angel coming to rescue me. Foxy and I were seated in the waiting room, and we both stood up when Sherry approached.

"Hi, Sherry," I said sheepishly.

"Now, honey, don't you worry. This happens all the time. I'm always telling Dusty not to use those things."

I smiled at the use of the name Dusty. I had forgotten Foxy's real name was Dustin. "Hi, baby," Sherry said to Foxy and they exchanged a hug and kiss. Sherry was acting very sweet, but I knew she could turn at any moment, so I was careful not to be too pushy.

"So what do you think – can you sneak me in?"

"Yup – come on back," Sherry said and waved me to follow her. I was so relieved I almost wet my pants.

Sherry led me into the ER and sat me on one of the beds. "I really appreciate this Sherry, I owe you one." I told her.

Sherry closed the curtain around us and turned to me. "That's okay, I wanted to speak with you privately anyway."

"About what?" I asked nervously.

"Have you ever noticed the way that Bradley looks at my husband?"

I squinted my face, not sure where she was going with this. "I don't know what you mean, Sherry."

"Have you ever noticed," she continued, "how tightly Bradley wears his jeans?"

"They're a little snug. You think he wears them tight for Foxy?" I asked.

"My husband is a very attractive man," Sherry said sternly.

I tried very hard to take the conversation seriously because I wanted that swab out of my ear badly. "So you're saying that you think Reid is gay?"

"I don't know if he's fully gay, but he has the tendencies, don't you think?"

"I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, maybe you'd better. Foxy tells me you're in love with him and I'd hate to think you were wasting time chasing after someone who plays for the other team." Sherry gave me a knowing glance, then turned towards the curtain. "The doctor will be in shortly."

I nodded. I knew that Sherry was crazy so I didn't put too much stock in what she was saying – but could she be right? I mean, Reid talked a big game, but how did I know it wasn't all an act? Maybe the real reason his mother had to rent him a date for the school dance was because she didn't want the whole school to know the truth. Schools are progressive these days, but back when we were kids, things were different. I pondered these thoughts until the doctor came in.

I could hear the doctor speaking to me even before he opened the curtain. He spoke in a singsong voice. "So somebody likes to put things in their ears, huh?" He pulled back the curtain and I saw his face drop. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I was expecting a child. Sorry about that. So, um, you have something stuck in your ear, right?"

Thirty minutes later I was strolling out of the E.R. and could hear a whole lot better. I checked my watch and saw it was only six o'clock – I could still make the party. Foxy and I ran towards the car, and he sped all the way to the station.

We arrived at the station at six fifteen, and I used their bathroom to primp and prep. The bathroom ranked quite high on my list of most disgusting places I'd changed in. Number one was still an outhouse at a county fair that I had to change in after falling in the dunk tank.

I took my time, making sure that my pants didn't touch the ground when I took them off and that my dress didn't absorb too much of the urine smell that was engulfing the room. My dress hung just above my knees and had a low dip that formed a V-shape in both the front and back. I couldn't wear a bra, so instead, I had to use pasties. They felt very weird and kept my nipples permanently stimulated, plus I'd have to take a warm shower to get them off. It always amazed me what women were willing to do to look good.

I put on quite a bit of eye liner and lipstick and applied some fresh deodorant. I pinned my hair up in a loose bun and checked myself out in the mirror. I looked pretty good. The low-cut front helped to distract from the flab on my stomach, and my high heels helped make my legs look toned.

I stepped out of the bathroom and walked out into the bullpen to tell the guys goodnight. As the fluorescent lights hit my skin, I felt all eyes in the room on me. Foxy was sitting at his desk, and Mac and Manny were working on charging the equipment.

"Whoa, Sharpe – you wearing a bra with that thing?" Foxy blurted out.

"Nope," I said.

"Ay-ay-ay!" Manny sang.

I couldn't help but smile. "Okay, guys, I'm going to the wedding rehearsal. If anything major breaks, call me. Mac and Manny, you guys can go home – just drop the latest set of tapes at the office to get digitized, okay?"

The guys nodded and I turned quickly, not realizing Reid was standing behind me. I had a bit of momentum and I sailed right into him. His hands were raised to stop me and connected with each of my breasts as we collided. I could feel his warm palms against my pasties. I looked up at him and saw his eyes were wide. He looked down at his hands, still holding on to me.

"Uh, sorry," Reid said, pulling his hands away.

I was a little flustered. "Oh...that's okay. I mean, these things happen."

"She ain't wearing no bra, Reid!" Foxy called out.

"Yes, I could feel that," Reid answered.

We both stared at each other nervously. I thought about the conversation I'd had with Sherry earlier and realized she was wrong – Reid was definitely not gay. "Well, goodnight," I said.

"Right, goodnight. Have a nice time."

"Thanks. Call me if anything comes up."

"She ain't talking about your johnson, dude," Foxy added.

Reid threw a pen at Foxy and I headed out the door.

I battled traffic for the next thirty minutes but miraculously arrived at the venue exactly at seven. It was being held in the private back room of Le Petit Pan, a restaurant frequented by the who's who of Hollywood and the only place my mother was willing to consider for the dinner.

The hostess walked me to the back room, where my father and some of my cousins were gathered. The room was decorated to the nines, and pink was the primary color. There were several tables scattered about with three-foot arrangements of assorted flowers. The walls were covered in branches painted white with little tea lights hanging off them. The whole room looked like an enchanted forest – the perfect setting for my sister, the princess. The décor alone probably cost twenty grand, and I walked over to my dad shaking my head.

"Is she kidding me?"

"We're divorced, remember? I have no say in how your mother spends her money."

"Well, she's gonna have to remarry you if she keeps this up."

"Nah, she'll just sell more adult diapers or something. It's all in a day's work. You look beautiful, sweetie."

"Thanks, Dad," I said and kissed him on the cheek. "So where is the belle of the ball?"

"In the restaurant. Ginny saw some big celeb out there, so she and your mother are pretending to dine at a table next to him. Of course, neither one of them plans to eat anything – they're fasting, you know."

"Yeah, I didn't get that memo until it was too late."

"How's the case?"

"Another guy turned up dead last night, but the trail is getting cold. I don't think we're gonna solve this one, which really sucks. Lenny said my episode would headline, but I doubt that's going to happen now. He's not coming tonight, right?"

"No, only family, but he'll be there tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know, I'm hoping something breaks tonight, but it probably won't."

My Dad put his arm around me. "You look tired, kiddo."

I leaned my head against his shoulder. "I'm exhausted. I didn't think the hours on the show would be this bad. I mean, I knew they would be bad, but not for this long. I thought the case would be solved right off the bat, but I've been going steady on maybe three hours of sleep a night since Tuesday."

"Maybe you should quit this racket and find something else."

"Maybe I should."

"Woo-woo!" My mother and sister called out as they ran into the party. "Woo-woo!" they chanted again, running up to my father and me.

"We met Dirk Jacobson," Ginny began. "We totally met Dirk Jacobson!"

"He actually recognized me from TV – can you believe that?" my mother said. "He was the one who approached me and he said I looked great."

"We told him all about the wedding and of course I invited him," Ginny said. She turned to my mother. "Do you think he'll come?"

"I don't know, honey, but when I told him Motgi Sanjeev was going to be there he seemed intrigued."

"He said he thought I would be a beautiful bride!" Ginny cried out. "I have to find Bob to tell him. I mean, meeting Dirk Jacobson the night before your wedding? That has to be good luck!"

Ginny ran off to find Bob, and my mother gave me a kiss. "You look very nice, honey."

I was a little shocked by the compliment. "Really? You wouldn't change anything?"

"Let's not go that far. How is your job – did you catch those killers yet?"

"Not yet. This place looks amazing, mom."

"I know – it cost a fortune, but don't worry, I will do the same for you when you find your prince charming. Actually, Victoria, weddings are great places to meet people. Weddings _and_ rehearsals."

"Dad said this party was for family only. You want me to date my cousins?"

"No, but you could date Bob's cousins."

I decided to ignore that comment and instead distract her with a question. "Are we actually rehearsing now?"

"No, honey, not tonight. We'll run through everything in the morning – didn't you get my email with the timeline of events?"

"Oh yeah," I lied. "I just forgot for a minute there." I didn't want to tell my mother that I hadn't checked my email in days. My goal was to stay as low-key as possible tonight.

A waiter walked by carrying a tray of drinks. I pulled off a glass of sauvignon blanc and took a large sip. Instantly my shoulders sank, and I relaxed a little. I hadn't had an opportunity to enjoy life and just be myself lately, and I planned to take advantage. I was going to eat, drink, be merry, and do my best to forget about cops and guns and dead bodies – at least for one night.

Everything that was served was scrumptious. I had been existing on donuts and hot wings and now, suddenly, I was eating warm goat cheese tartlets, duck confit and a mouthwatering rare hangar steak served with béarnaise sauce. It wasn't long before I was in a full-on food coma. I washed everything down with vino, and by nine o'clock, I was passed out on a couch next to the ladies' room.

I am not sure how long I was asleep, but I awoke to my mother leaning over me and repeating my name over and over again. "Victoria! Victoria, get up!"

I jumped and looked at her. "Oh, sorry. I guess I fell asleep."

"It's time for your speech."

"My what?"

"Your speech. Your maid-of-honor speech. Please tell me you prepared something."

I felt my heart sink. I surmised that this speech was also on that timeline email that I didn't bother to read. I knew my mother was on edge and I didn't want to ruffle her feathers, so I smiled and stood up. "Yes, I remember – my speech. I'm ready."

"Good, because the best man is just finishing up. I would have liked to hear what he said, but I've been searching for you for the past five minutes."

"Okay," I said, standing up. "Let's do this."

I stood in front of fifty relatives and strangers with a glass in my hand and absolutely nothing going through my head. I stared at my sister and then at Bob and tried to think of a kind word to say.

"What can I say about Ginny and Bob?" I said aloud. I was asking myself just as much as everyone else in the room. I felt my mother's glare on me and I could feel the beads of sweat forming on my brow. "What can any of us say about Ginny and Bob? Um, let's throw out some adjectives, okay? Let me hear some."

The room was silent for a long moment. I was about to give up when someone yelled out "fun loving."

"Yes!" I cheered. "Great adjective. What else?"

"Hot!" called out someone in the back.

"Yes, Ginny is hot. Bob is questionable," I said, getting a laugh from the room. "Anyone else?"

"Sweet," said one person.

"Successful," said another.

"Perfect for each other," said yet another.

"Great, great. It's nice to be in a room with people who share so much love for the lucky couple. If you didn't know, I'm Ginny's sister Victoria, and I am so happy for her. She has really met a great man. Being the maid of honor in this wedding is not only bringing me closer to my sister, but it's giving me what I always dreamed of growing up – a brother."

There was a collective "aww" from the room as I tried to choke back the vomit that was rising in my throat. I wanted Bob as my brother like I wanted a pen in my eye. I could see that Ginny was just melting over my speech, but Bob could see right through it. I raised my glass. "To the happy couple."

Everyone raised their glasses and we drank. Ginny ran over to me and wrapped her arms around me. "That was so touching, Vicky – even if you didn't mean a word of it."

I smiled politely. "Of course I did."

Bob approached me next. "Vapor Rub – I didn't know you cared."

I glared back at him giving him my best icy stare. He gave me a big bear hug and shook me back and forth.

"I'm gonna be that brother to you Vapor. I'm gonna protect you and be there for you – just like you always dreamed I would."

He was being sarcastic, and I didn't think he was funny. Plus he was sweaty and all the shaking was messing up the adhesion on my pasties. "Okay, that's enough," I said, pushing him off. "I'm very happy for you, Bobble-Head. You deserve my sister – you deserve everything you're gonna get."

*****

I got home a little past eleven. Luckily, I had slept most of the party, so I wasn't that exhausted. Before I'd left, my mother had run down tomorrow's events – just in case I had forgotten. I had a manicure scheduled for ten in the morning, then a hair appointment, then the rehearsal at the hotel, and then the wedding. I knew there wasn't a chance I would be able to get down to the station, and in my present mood, I didn't want to anyway. I had been working nonstop and needed a break. No one had called me with updates, and I knew we were just spinning our wheels. I figured Mac could handle things, and if anything earth-shattering came up, he would let me know.

Sometimes when you work on these reality shows, you get so caught up in the microcosm that is the show that you forget about the real world around you. Your life becomes the production and things like the birth of a child, the illness of a parent, or the wedding of your sister just fall by the wayside. I realized my priorities had gotten out of whack, and I fully intended to get them back in order. Tomorrow was my sister's big day, and I would be there by her side every step of the way.

### Chapter 13.

The next morning, I was sitting next to my sister in a spa chair while a woman did my fingernails and a man did my toes. My mother had only mentioned the manicure part, so I had foolishly worn a short sundress. Now I was sitting with my legs spread and a man kneeling at my feet putting various lotions on my calves. The spa had given me a towel to drape over my legs for privacy, and my sister and all her bridesmaids couldn't stop laughing at my poor choice of wardrobe. I hadn't remembered to shave my legs either, and I cringed every time the man ran his hands up and down them. I figured I would stop home after my hair appointment and before the rehearsal for a quick shave.

The orange spray tan had completely faded off my skin, and I was back to looking like a human corpse. I would have liked a little color on my nails to offset my pale skin, but Ginny wanted everyone to have white French tips.

Our next stop was the hair salon, where they practically dipped my face in makeup and pulled my hair every which way to make the perfect updo. The makeup artist told me it would require a bit of extra work to cover up the bags under my eyes, but she felt up to the challenge.

In the end I looked pretty good. I mean, I was wearing more makeup and hairspray than I could have ever imagined and was on the verge of resembling a drag queen, but the photos would turn out nicely. I checked my watch and saw that I had just enough time to run home and shave my legs before the rehearsal began. Plus I wanted to grab my Spanx, which I had also forgotten. I knew my dress would be tight, and I didn't want to take any chances that it wouldn't fit.

I sped up the 405 at a cool twenty-three miles per hour and got home forty-five minutes later. I parked the car underground and raced upstairs to my apartment. On the way, I checked my voicemail but no one had called. It was all for the best – today was not the day to get interrupted by work.

I put the key in my front door, turned the knob and walked in to see Rose sitting on my couch. "Huh!" I cried out.

She was dressed in a strapless black dress with red high heels. Her hair was down and covered up some of her bulging cleavage, but not much. Her eyes were rimmed with eyeliner, and although it looked like she had spent some time putting her look together, she also looked very tired.

"I hope you didn't get all dolled up on my account," Rose said, smiling.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded.

"I nailed your landlord." Rose smiled.

"We've been looking for you."

"I know."

"Kitt's dead."

"I know."

I whipped out my cell phone and started to dial Reid.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked.

"I'm calling the cops."

"No, don't do that!" Rose said, jumping up. She took the phone from my hands and ended the call before it began. "I need to talk – but not to them."

"To who, me? I thought you hated me."

"I do, but you're the only one I can trust." Rose handed me back my phone and ran a hand across my cheek. "Can we talk, please?" she asked sweetly. I wasn't gay, but I was getting a little turned on– Rose just oozed sex.

"Rose, this is really bad timing. My sister is getting married today and I just came home to shave my legs." I felt very stupid for telling her that, but the words had come out and I couldn't take them back now.

Rose looked down at my legs and then back up to me. "I'm next, I know it. They're going to come for me."

She looked like she was close to tears. I knew I only had seven minutes to get back on the road if I wanted to be on time and didn't know what to do.

"All right, come with me." I led Rose into the bathroom and sat her down on the toilet. I returned a moment later wearing a pair of boxer shorts. I placed one leg on the counter, lathered it up and started shaving. I mean we were both girls, right? "Why don't you start from the beginning," I said.

"No, I'm not ready to talk."

"Then why are you here? I don't have time for this, Rose."

"I told you, they are coming after me!" she said, standing up. "It's too bad you forgot to shave for three weeks, but my life is being threatened!"

"It hasn't been three weeks! Besides, the only people after you are the cops. We all know you did it, Rose, it's obvious!" I suddenly realized that I was yelling at a killer. I hadn't even frisked her and I was holding a razor. How did I know she wasn't going to turn on me and make me her next victim?

"Is that what you think? That I did this to two men I loved?"

"Pretty much." I nicked my leg shaving and the blood started running down. I saw Rose's eyes focus on the blood and I panicked that the sight of it might send her into a killing frenzy. I froze and stared at her.

"You dumb bitch, I'm not gonna hurt you," Rose said.

Ordinarily being called a bitch was a real hot button for me. I'd been known to fly off the handle very easily once that word was uttered. In this case, however, I decided to let it go. Instead, I posed a question. "If you didn't do it – who did, Rose? You're the only suspect we have in the case."

"I can't tell you. They'll kill me – but it wasn't me, I promise you that."

I switched to the other leg and lathered it up. "Why don't you talk to the cops? They're good guys, honestly."

"No," Rose said.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I need a place to hide out, one they wouldn't think to look," Rose explained.

"Well, they certainly won't think to look at a wedding reception. You're going to have to come with me. I don't want them finding you and shooting up my apartment."

I wiped off my legs, changed back into my dress, and the two of us headed out the door.

Rose and I hopped in my car and headed back over to the West Side. The temperatures outside were nearing ninety, and we were starting to sweat.

"Don't you have AC in this thing?" Rose asked.

"You don't need AC when you're in a convertible."

"Then put the top down."

"I can't mess up my hair, I'm sorry," I explained as a bead of sweat dropped down the back of my neck.

"Big shot producer and you're driving around in this piece of shit."

"We can't all make our money smuggling people across the border."

Rose turned her head slowly and glared at me. If the heat wasn't making me sweat, her stare certainly was. My phone chirped and I jumped. "Saved by the bell." I pulled my cell phone out of my purse. I could see that Reid was calling. "Hi, honey," I answered.

There was a lot of silence on the other end, but finally he spoke. "Um, hi, babe."

"Don't be late for the wedding tonight," I said, hoping he would catch on. "The rehearsal starts in an hour and you should really be there."

"What? Sharpe, this is Reid you're speaking to."

"Yes, I know that," I said smiling. "Do you have the address of the hotel or should I give that to you?"

"Are you drunk?" Reid asked.

"I'm starting to think you are," I said still smiling. "Rose, can you grab me a napkin out of the glove box?"

Rose gave me a dirty look but managed to pull out a tissue for me .

"Thanks, Rose," I said, blotting my forehead.

"Rose is with you?" Reid asked, finally getting it.

"The address is 407 Ocean Front Walk. I'll see you soon, and remember to wear a suit, okay?"

With that, we hung up. "Who was that?" Rose demanded. "That dumbass cop you say you're not nailing? I told you no cops."

"I'm not involved with him. That was my date on the phone."

"Oh, really?" Rose asked suspiciously. "Where'd you meet?"

"At the tanning salon. He gave me a spray tan and we really hit it off."

"Uh-huh." Rose relaxed a little bit more into her seat. I had hoped that she would open up to me, but she remained silent for the rest of the trip. I didn't know what I was going to do with her during the wedding and how I would keep tabs on her. She was dressed like a prostitute, and I had no intention of bringing a potential murderer or murder victim into my sister's wedding. I figured Reid would know what to do, and I was so glad that he had called.

I had to acknowledge that my little run-in with Reid before I left the station wasn't entirely embarrassing. I actually wouldn't have minded it if we hadn't had an audience present. I smiled as I thought about him and wondered what he would look like in his suit.

*****

The wedding was being held at the Fairhaven Hotel in Santa Monica. Ginny was getting married on the beach, and then the reception would take place inside the ballroom. The hotel was modern and chic, and the view was gorgeous.

The valet took my car, and Rose and I walked into the hotel. As Rose ascended the stairs to walk inside, she got more than just a few glances from the male patrons. What was worse was that standing next to her, even as done up as I was, I felt very ugly.

"I'm gonna get us a room," I said, and I felt several more stares. I imagined that they all assumed I had hired a lady of the evening for myself or that we both were hookers.

We walked up to the front desk and I told them I needed a room for the night. I gave them my credit card and asked for two room keys.

I turned to take Rose upstairs when I heard my mother bellow. "Oh no!" She came running towards me with her arms flailing. "Your makeup is running down your face, Vicky. Did you just run a marathon or something?"

"No the AC in my car is broken, Mom."

"Well, we need to fix this." My mother noticed Rose for the first time and looked her up and down. "Who is this? I hope you're not planning to go to my daughter's wedding dressed like that, young lady."

"Dressed like what?" Rose said, leaning in. "Someone your husband would want to play with?"

"Excuse me?" my mother said.

"Mom, she's not coming to the wedding. This is just someone from work."

"Honestly, Victoria, no work now, okay? Your sister is getting married, for God's sake. Your friend here is just going to have to do her job on her own." My mom addressed Rose. "Can you handle that, honey?"

"I can handle your husband's member. How about that?"

My mother's eyes widened and it looked like smoke was about to erupt from her ears. I knew Rose was sexier than me and I knew she was tougher than me, but I also knew my mother was about to blow a gasket. I grabbed Rose by the arm and yanked her towards the elevators. "Come on!"

Rose seemed a little shocked that I had grabbed her, but she followed willingly. She seemed to have a major problem interacting with women. I guess when sex is your best asset you don't get a whole lot of female friends.

The hotel room was nice, with a water view and a king-sized bed. Rose kicked off her shoes and plopped down on the bed.

"Mind if I order room service?" Rose asked.

"Yeah actually I do. So what's your plan? You're just gonna hide out here forever?"

Rose stared at me thoughtfully. "No, I'll talk to your boyfriend."

"My boyfriend works at the tanning salon, I told you that," I said.

"Yeah right. I'm not that stupid, honey. Look I don't want to go to jail or go back to Mexico, but I don't want to die either."

I breathed a sigh of relief and then my producer side kicked in. "I will have to call my crew – all right? The only way we can do this is if I get it on tape."

"Say what? Are you loco or something? You want me to finger the killer and let you play it on TV?"

"We'll blur out his face and his name. No one will know who you fingered."

"Except the guy."

"Well, he'll be rotting in jail. You know what we can do? We can do one of those secret confessions where we blur your face and change your voice – how about that?"

"No freaking way!" Rose gasped.

"All right, look. If you do this for me, I'll talk to the cops, okay? I'll get them to let you off for cooperating with the investigation. I mean, I'm offering you your freedom here." I knew I was digging myself a massive hole. I couldn't make those promises, plus for all I knew, the killer she was about to finger wasn't the killer at all. But I also knew that my boss was an invited guest at the wedding, and he was going to ask me about the story. Even though my priority was the wedding, I still had to focus on my career just a bit and do everything possible to get my story.

"Okay," Rose said, finally.

I felt elated inside. "Great. Now I have to go down for the rehearsal – can I count on you to stay put?"

Rose stared at me and smiled as she picked up the phone and asked for room service.

I walked downstairs and headed outside for the rehearsal, but not before I stopped at the front desk and put a freeze on the credit card that was holding my room. I felt like a fool for leaving Rose where I couldn't see her, but I had no choice.

I pulled out my cell phone and called Reid. "Are you on the way?" I asked.

"Is she there with you?" Reid asked.

"I got a room here at the hotel – she's in it. She said she wants to ID the killer because she thinks he's going after her next."

"This is a lucky break. I'm leaving my house now – I had to find a clean suit."

"Please tell me it's a dark color."

"Black – is that okay?" Reid asked. "I have a navy one if that's better."

"No, black is good, I just didn't want you to show up in beige or something. It's a beach wedding, but the attire is formal."

My next call was to Mac. I told him that Rose was in my hotel room and that I needed it fully rigged for sight and sound. I said there was a chance that we might have to blur her face and voice, but we should proceed as if that wasn't the scenario. I knew I had made a promise to Rose, but it was a dog-eat-dog world, and I would spin any lie I needed to in order to get my story.

Outside, the beach looked amazing. There were about three hundred white chairs arranged chevron-style so that everyone would have a great view of my sister as she came down the aisle, and, later, the couple at the altar. As a set designer, my father had quite a bit of input in the design and the color scheme. They had decided to go with a chocolate brown and olive green color scheme. It was sophisticated yet beachy, understated yet bold. The flowers were peonies and white lilies, and everything smelled amazing. I saw the bridesmaids and the groomsmen all gathered around, and the wedding planner was taking them through the motions, helping them time their walks and letting them know where to stand.

As I approached my mother walked over to me. "I don't know who that tramp was, but I cannot believe you would associate with such garbage. Why was she saying all those things about your father – is he seeing her or something?"

"No, she's just trying to push your buttons – push _my_ buttons, actually. Don't worry about her," I said.

"We're divorced and your father can see whomever he wants, but she just seemed very young and very...promiscuous."

"She's never even met Dad – would you stop?" I asked.

The wedding planner approached me with a big smile. "And you must be the maid of honor. Maid or matron?"

"Maid," my mother said. "She's not even close to being a matron, I'm afraid."

"For your information, I have a date for this wedding," I countered. As usual, my big mouth was about to get me in a lot of trouble.

My sister overheard and came scampering over. "Did you say you have a date? Who is it?"

"It's nobody, just that cop I've been working with."

"Why didn't you tell me this? I don't even have a place card for him!" my mother said in a panic.

"Not to worry, Evelyn, I'll handle this," the wedding planner said and then spoke into the headset that was affixed to her ear. "I need another place setting next to the maid of honor. Guest's name is..." She looked at me.

"Oh, Bradley Reid. R-E-I-D," I said.

"Bradley Reid," the planner said into her microphone. "And get makeup over here STAT, we have a situation."

*****

By the time the rehearsal was over, it was nearly five o'clock. The wedding was to begin at six. The crew and the cops still hadn't arrived, and I was feeling a little panicked. I placed a call to Mac. "Where the hell are you guys?"

"There's a pile-up on the 405 and we've been sitting in it for the last hour. Can't get in or out. The cops are ahead of us and stuck in the same mess," Mac explained.

"Tell them to put on their siren or something," I said.

"They're not in a squad car, Sharpe. Foxy's up there trying to talk to them, but he doesn't seem to be getting too far."

"Oh man – they're fighting, bro!" Manny said in the background.

"What's happening?" I asked.

"Foxy just threw his hat on the floor and now he's yelling at the patrol. And now the patrol is yelling back at him – they're like an inch from each other's faces. Now Reid is running over there," Mac explained.

As I listened to the narrative, I began pacing back and forth in the lobby of the hotel. "Oh, for God's sake, just get here okay? I can't keep my eye on Rose because I have to do this wedding thing and I'm worried she's gonna flee." I hung up my phone and turned around to see Lenny staring at me.

"Who's gonna flee?" Lenny asked.

"Oh, Lenny - perfect! I have a witness in my hotel room upstairs. She's waiting for the cops to get here so she can tell them what she knows."

"Cops _and_ crew, right?" Lenny asked.

"Yes, of course. Listen, can you go up there and watch her until they arrive? I have to get into my dress plus I'm in the wedding party."

"I'll do you one better – how about she's my date for the wedding?"

"I don't know, she's already gotten into a fight with my mother today and I don't want her upsetting the other guests."

"Sharpe, this story is huge and it sounds like you might be about to break this case. I'm making yours the premiere episode – we have to get this right!" Lenny said excitedly.

"She doesn't have anything to wear. The dress she's in now will piss everyone off."

"Too casual?" Lenny asked.

"Too slutty," I explained.

Lenny's eyes widened. He was a weasel through and through, and he started rubbing his palms together excitedly. "Take me to meet her."

I led Lenny to my room. He was a sleazy guy, and I felt uncomfortable even sharing an elevator with him.

I knocked on the door and then swiped my key card in the lock. I opened the door slowly and gasped when I walked inside. Rose was laying on the bed, spread-eagle and naked, taking a nap. Luckily she was on her stomach or Lenny's tongue would have hit the ground.

"Ay, caramba!" Lenny blurted out.

Rose lifted up her head up and looked around.

"Rose, I didn't know you'd be naked! I'm here with my boss," I said.

Rose craned her head around to see us. She looked Lenny up and down. "Who's got you all stiff over there, compadre – me or her?"

Lenny and I both looked down to see that his little head was standing at full attention.

"Uggh, gross!" I winced.

Lenny turned brick red, but Rose was enjoying herself. She slowly turned over to reveal the other side of her body. Her breasts were so perfect I thought they must have been fake, but I knew they weren't. I quickly turned away – I felt like I was watching a porn show with my boss, and the thought was making me sick.

"Get dressed, Rose, come on!"

"Sure you two don't want to come in here with me and have some fun?"

"Hummina-hummina!" Lenny purred.

I knew Rose was trying to mess with both of us, and I did not appreciate it at all. I felt the anger rising in my body and I lashed out at her. "No one is interested in your STD-riddled body, Rose! Now, get dressed!" I grabbed her dress off the chair it was resting on and threw it at her.

"Spoilsport," Rose said as she pulled the dress over her head.

I smoothed out my hair and tried to calm down. "Rose, this is my boss Lenny. He would like to invite you to be his date at the wedding tonight."

"I bet he would. I ain't no escort, Lenny."

"It's for your protection. Detective Reid recommended it, actually. Lenny is trained in martial arts," I lied.

"Right, yes I am. It's very nice to meet you...Rose, was it?" Lenny said, extending a hand.

Rose took his hand reluctantly.

"There's a boutique downstairs where Lenny's going to buy you a dress," I explained.

"I hope you have a high limit on that thing. Okay, let's go," Rose said, standing.

I was relieved to see that Lenny's erection had gone down. Sharing the elevator with him was skeevy enough without worrying about bumping into anything.

We headed to the boutique downstairs. I walked up to a saleswoman to explain the situation while Rose browsed and Lenny drooled.

"The gentleman over there will be paying for that woman's dress. We need something appropriate for a wedding. The dress she's wearing now already got her into one fight, so nothing too low-cut, okay? She's also not wearing any underwear, so maybe something with some built-in support."

The saleswoman was in her fifties, and the way she smiled knowingly, I imagined this request was pretty common.

I left Lenny and Rose in the store and ran to the bridal suite. "Where have you been?" my mother said when I walked in the door.

I was running out of excuses, and I needed a good one. "Sorry, I had to...I had diarrhea." My sister was being zipped into her gown and looked over at me disgustedly. The bridesmaids turned too. I knew I had just embarrassed myself, but I also knew I couldn't let my mother know I was dealing with a nude witness who was potentially being stalked by a killer.

The wedding planner was in the room and instantly took to her headset. "I need some antacids in here STAT." Everything was STAT with this woman and I had no idea who she was talking to on that headset.

"Your dress is over here," she continued. "If you need to go to the bathroom, let me know, and I can have someone help you hold the dress. I wouldn't want it to get dirty."

"You want me to ask someone to hold my dress in the bathroom when I'm having diarrhea? That ain't happening, lady."

"No, it isn't – not once I load you up with pills. Why don't you get dressed, Victoria, the wedding starts in thirty minutes."

The truth, of course, was that my stomach was fine, but I feared once this woman was done with me I wouldn't poop for a week. I grabbed my dress off the hanger and walked into the changing room.

I pulled on my Spanx first, then stepped into the dress and pulled it up over my shoulders. It had a sweetheart neckline, and despite the light color, the cut of the dress worked well with my figure. I didn't know if it was going to zip up, and I felt a twinge of dread as I reached for the zipper. I tried to pull it up but couldn't work the angle, so I had to call my mother in.

"This better fit, Victoria," she said as she reached for the zipper.

"Thanks for your support, Ma." I felt the zipper tightening around my waist and shoulder blades, but my mother managed to get it all the way to the top.

"Oh, thank heavens," she said.

"Does it fit?" Ginny called from the other room.

"Yes, Ginny, it fits," I called out, annoyed. I looked in the mirror. Despite my recent weight gain, the dress actually managed to make me look quite slender. I pulled on my matching green heels and stepped out of the room.

Ginny of course looked gorgeous, and although my mother had seen her in her dress just moments before, she burst into tears. "My baby is getting married. Oh, I can't take it!"

"You look beautiful, Gin," I told her.

She smiled. "So do you. I'm glad it fits."

"It's the Spanx. So, are you nervous?"

"I'm okay. Mom's guru helped me meditate earlier so I'm much more centered now."

"Oh, okay, good," I said, trying to take her words seriously.

An attendant walked into the room carrying champagne, and I grabbed a glass and took a nice sip. This was a party, and I should be enjoying myself. Lenny was overseeing my biggest worry, and suddenly I was feeling much more relaxed.

I snacked on the appetizers and sipped the champagne, and before I knew it the wedding planner was corralling us and leading us outside and down the aisle. I couldn't believe that the guys hadn't arrived yet, but then again, I had gotten stuck in LA traffic where I had sat stagnant for over four hours twice before. Besides, as long as the killers didn't know where Rose was, I figured we were okay for a while.

I walked down the aisle with Bob's brother Roger. He was tall and doofy-looking, much like Bob. The wedding planner had asked us to lock arms, but I had trouble wrapping my arm around his. My bouquet was in both hands but lifted at a very awkward angle as I struggled to meet his height. We walked down the aisle slowly and carefully. I had been in my shoes for less than an hour, and I already hated them. I scanned the crowd looking for Reid or Mac or a crazed killer, but I didn't see any of them.

I joined the bridesmaids at the front of the altar and turned as the music changed and my sister came walking down the aisle. We weren't Jewish, but she had chosen to walk with both my parents down the aisle. Plus my mother had bankrolled almost the entire thing and she would be damned if she wasn't going to walk down that aisle. There was the collective noise of "oohs" and "aahs" as the trio walked down the seemingly endless aisle. My mother looked amazing, and I wondered whether the audience was marveling at how good my sister looked or how amazing my mother did.

Typically at a wedding the bride is the last to walk down the aisle, but that was not the case here. Guru Motgi Sanjeev was the last to take the walk. He was an old Indian man with long gray hair and a white dress on. He was very much a celebrity, and the crowd was totally in awe of him. It was almost as if Jesus Christ himself had just walked down the aisle. One woman fainted and another burst into tears. Motgi acted as if their behaviors were a normal occurrence and just kept walking until he reached the altar. He stopped to kiss my mother and then stood before Ginny and Bob.

"Hee-ohh!!" Motgi called out, then ran in circles around Ginny and Bob doing what he called a purity dance. "I am restoring these two precious souls to their virgin states. These two have shared their bodies with each other and many, many other people during their lives. Whether it was with girlfriends or boyfriends or just people they went home with on a lonely night, their bodies have had their share of debauchery. Tonight they will come together as if they had never met before – complete strangers with only a sense of love and passion to join them together. We do this to remind couples of how precious a gift intimacy is and to encourage them never to take it for granted."

I looked over at Bob and saw that he was blushing bright red. I actually felt bad for him. I mean, my sister was wearing a white dress, their parents were present, they were doing everything they could to portray the illusion that tonight would be their first sexual encounter ever, and Guru Motgi was totally blowing their cover. Plus this business about their past sexual escapades – I mean, was it really necessary?

"So often you hear that sex dies when a couple gets married," Motgi continued. In the audience several couples looked at each other knowingly. "I teach that sex is a gift that should be shared daily – hourly if possible."

Bob was now smiling, but Ginny didn't look too happy about this part of the speech. She looked over at my mother, but my mother was fully entranced by the Guru's words.

"I see in this couple so much love and so much caring. I see in this couple babies and birthdays and lots of laughter. We must remember that life should be lived wholly and fully and with passion."

Motgi placed his hands together and began rubbing them very rigorously. He lifted them high over his head and chanted "Moom. Moom." Suddenly, he separated his hands and slapped Bob hard across the face. Bob was so surprised that he lost his balance and fell off the altar. As he plummeted, he grabbed a piece of the canopy and took that down with him. The entire thing collapsed on top of Ginny.

Everyone gasped. We had rehearsed, but I didn't remember this part. It must have been some New Age technique. The wedding planner went running for the altar, but before she could help, Guru Motgi pulled the canopy off Ginny and threw it behind him. "May you never forget this day!" he called out.

The planner helped Bob to his feet. He was still in shock, and I could see the anger inside him building. He jumped up on the stage and charged towards Guru Motgi. "You got a problem, pal?"

Motgi pulled back a hand and slapped Bob across the face again. "Be cleansed." He pulled the other hand back and slapped Ginny. Ginny looked horrified, and I could tell she was close to tears. I looked at my mother, who didn't seem to know what to do. There was no way this was planned.

"Are you crazy?" Bob yelled out to the Guru, then gave Motgi a forceful push and sent him flying off the stage.

There was complete silence in the audience except for the sound of several people clapping their hands to their mouths in shock. How could Bob hit Guru Motgi? If Jesus wants to slap you, you turn the other cheek, right? As far as the audience was concerned, Motgi _was_ Jesus, and Bob was an asshole. Bob looked lost as he surveyed the audience.

"Are you insane?" Ginny cried out to Bob. Her cheek was red from the slap, and her anger was turning her neck and arms red too.

Suddenly Motgi jumped up from the back of the stage. "I have ignited your fire – your passion!" he proclaimed to Ginny and Bob. He grabbed each of their hands and joined them together. "May your marriage be filled with the fire and spark you have shown me today." He lifted their hands into the air, facing the crowd. "YOU...ARE...MARRIED!" he proclaimed. "KISS!"

With that, he pushed Ginny and Bob together and they reluctantly kissed. I really wished Reid had been here to see what was surely the strangest wedding ceremony of all time. The audience didn't know how to react at first, but then my mother stood up and started clapping, and they joined in.

Ginny and Bob pulled apart from their kiss, both laughing hysterically. If you want New Age, then this is what you get. I made a mental note not to let my mother select the minister for my wedding. Motgi blew kisses to his fans and then walked down the aisle while a few more people fainted and fell at his feet. Next Ginny and Bob walked down, followed by myself and Roger and then the rest of the wedding party. I had to admit I was entertained by the whole thing – you have got to love Hollywood sometimes.

Inside, the planner lined us up and said the emcee would be announcing us. My mother had gotten Bob's favorite band, _Star Count_ , to perform and we could hear them playing on the other side of the wall. I had to admit I was impressed - these guys were famous. Everyone was laughing and joking about the ceremony, and Ginny was on cloud nine. "I just know we are going to be together forever. The way Bob protected me up there – that was exactly what Guru Motgi wanted. He's a genius."

Guru Motgi walked into our holding area and up to my mother. She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the lips. "You never disappoint."

Motgi kissed her back, then turned to Ginny. "You have a strong foundation in place – call me if you need guidance anytime."

"Wow, do you mean that?" Ginny asked excitedly.

Guru Motgi gave a weak smile and spoke to her in a low tone. "No, not really."

"Oh," Ginny said, realizing her mistake. "Well, it doesn't matter, you have touched our lives in a way we could have never expected. We cannot thank you enough."

"Ignite your passion and think of me every time you enter the bedroom – that is how you can thank me," Motgi said.

I raised an eyebrow at Bob. He cracked a smile but contained his laughter. He didn't want another smack – from Motgi or Ginny.

Moments later, Motgi was gone, and the party was on. On the other side of the wall, we could hear the Master of Ceremonies announcing people, and the wedding planner opened the door and shuffled us through in pairs of two. I always hated the part where you had to come out dancing and pretending you actually liked the person you were dancing with, but the champagne and the events of the evening had loosened me up a bit.

"And ladies and gentleman, let's give it up for your maid of honor, Victoria, and your best man, Roger," the emcee announced, and we came dancing out. We stood in the middle of the dance floor and clapped as the emcee announced Ginny and Bob. The couple came out of the doorway and the crowd roared with excitement. We all stood in a row – women on one side and men on the other – and let Ginny and Bob go through the "tunnel of love." After the song ended, we thankfully were able to return to our seats, and I was able to rest my feet for a bit.

The band played a slow song, and Ginny and Bob took their first dance.

I scanned the room until I saw Rose and Lenny sitting together at a table. She still dripped of sex, but her dress was a bit more tasteful at least. It was navy blue and had spaghetti straps and a covered bust line. The emcee invited all the couples in the room to dance, and I could see Lenny trying to get Rose on the floor. She glared at him and returned to sipping a martini. I knew the action Lenny saw in my hotel room was all he was going to get.

I felt my mother standing behind me and I turned.

"Where is your date, honey?" she asked.

"Oh, he's stuck in traffic on the 405."

My mother shook her head. "That traffic is just terrible."

Ginny had told me that she wanted to get all the traditional stuff out of the way up front. She wanted to do the first dance, dance with our dad, and throw the bouquet all within the first thirty minutes. She felt that once these obligatory events had occurred, the crowd would be able to kick back and relax a little more. So, before I knew it, she was dancing with my dad while my mother was standing off on the sidelines crying at the loss of her baby girl. The crowd was touched by her tears, but I knew it was partly for show. She was a successful actress, and you had to know that many of her so-called emotions were put on. Whether she would admit it or not, she and my father were thrilled that Ginny had found someone who would take her off their hands. As my dad danced in circles around the room with Ginny, I caught his eye and he gave me a wink. Ginny wasn't the only daddy's girl in the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from what I hear, Guru Motgi already filled you in on the juicy details of Bob and Ginny's sex life. So I am sure you won't mind seeing a little bit more of it while Bob removes Ginny's garter, right?" the emcee asked.

The crowd cheered, and Ginny moved to a chair in the center of the room. This was an element of weddings that I had always hated. Bob walked out to the center of the dance floor and dropped to his knees for some pushups first. Ginny and the crowd roared with laughter. Then Bob put his head under Ginny's dress and retrieved the garter with his teeth. Ginny laughed hysterically and I chuckled too, wondering if Bob would shed a tear after this intimate act.

"All right, I need the single ladies in the house to gather on the dance floor," the emcee announced. "All the single ladies to the floor, please."

I reluctantly stood and made my way to the center of the floor. As I walked, I looked over at Rose's table and saw that she was still in place.

Ginny stood in the center of the floor holding her bouquet and turned her back to us. "Ready?" Ginny asked.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Rose was standing up. Lenny looked to be pleading with her, but she didn't want to stay seated. I wondered if she was getting cold feet.

"One," Ginny began.

Rose was now walking across the dance floor.

"Two."

Rose brushed past me as she headed for the exit door.

"Rose, where are you going?" I asked her.

"Three!" Ginny called out and threw the bouquet up in the air.

From out of nowhere, I saw Reid jump into the air and lunge towards Rose. She was halfway across the dance floor, and he grabbed her around the waist and took her down. There was a scream as six women trying to catch the bouquet toppled over on top of them. Ginny turned around smiling, but her expression dropped when she saw there was a man lying in the middle of the floor with several of her closest friends lying on top of him.

The girls slowly peeled themselves off him and stood up. The bouquet was lying on the floor. One of the women picked it up and handed it to Reid.

"You really worked for this. I hope you find him out there, honey."

Reid looked mortified, and Rose was wailing. "Get off me! Get off me, you moron!"

I had a huge grin on my face as I approached. "Detective Reid, nice of you to join us."

Reid's face was flushed, and he looked very silly holding my sister's bouquet. Rose pushed him off her and stood up. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked, red-faced.

I looked over at the emcee and motioned that he should start some music. The band's frontman had taken a break to grab a beer, but he quickly jumped up to the stage and started singing. Luckily the crowd started breaking up and moving to the music as the band played.

Reid took Rose by the wrist and led her off the dance floor. I followed them. "I need your testimony, Rose. I couldn't let you just take off like that," Reid said.

"I was going to the bathroom!" Rose said. She scanned the room for Lenny, who was running over. "There you are, Lenny. Kung fu this dude's ass."

Reid looked Lenny up and down and smiled. "I don't think so."

"What the hell is going on here? Who are you?" Lenny asked Reid. "I'll kung fu your ass, she's right."

"Lenny, this is _Detective_ Reid," I explained. "You can keep your moves locked up, okay?"

Lenny visibly relaxed. Of course, he had no moves, but the idiot seemed to think he still had a chance at scoring with Rose, so he was displaying a lot of bravado.

"I have a room here," I told Reid. "She can use the bathroom up there."

When I turned I noticed that Foxy was standing behind me. He had a huge grin on his face, and for once, he wasn't laughing at me. Foxy lifted his hands and started clapping for Reid. "Way to go, dude."

"Shut up, jackass," Reid said and brushed past him with Rose in tow. Mac and Manny weren't far behind, carrying a bell cart filled with equipment. I knew I needed permission from the hotel to shoot in my guest room, but I also knew that what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them.

We all walked to the elevator banks, and Rose, Reid, Foxy, Mac, Manny, myself and even Lenny all squeezed into one of the cars with all our equipment. We rode up in silence, all staring at the numbers above the doors as we rose to floors three, four, and finally five. The doors opened and we spilled out. I directed everyone to my room and unlocked the door. This interview was vital to the story and I couldn't miss it, but I also knew I couldn't be away from the wedding for too long or someone would notice.

Rose was pacing the room and feeling anxious about the interview, especially given the number of people in the room. I met up with her by the window and spoke softly to her.

"Are you all right? Do you want me to ask some of these people to leave?"

"I'm fine," Rose said, trying to be tough. "I just need something to take the edge off."

I figured she was talking about drugs or a drink, but I didn't have either. The hotel had removed the mini fridge from the guest rooms because they said the cost of restocking outweighed the profits they made from the sale of the items inside. I scanned the room and focused my eyes on Manny. "Maybe use him to relax," I said, pointing.

Rose followed my finger to Manny and smiled. "Yeah, he was pretty good. Why not?" She walked across the room, hips wagging, hand tossing her hair over her shoulder and all the men in the room suddenly turned. Manny froze when he saw she was walking towards him. "I need you," she said and placed her hand between his legs.

"Whoa, chica!" Manny said and covered her hand with his, holding it in place. With his free hand he opened the bathroom door and led her in. The door slammed behind them and in a moment the room was filled with moaning sounds.

"Shit!" Lenny spat. "Why didn't you point her towards me, Sharpe? Damn it!"

"Oh, sorry." The moaning was getting louder and it was becoming a little uncomfortable to listen to. As the only female in the room, I felt this was a good time to make my exit. I didn't want anyone getting any ideas – well, maybe one of them.

"Mac, I'm going back down to the party before my mother notices. When you guys are set up, can you send me a text and I'll come back up? I don't want to miss this."

"You got it, babe," Mac said. "By the way, you look very pretty in that dress."

I smiled. "Thanks, Mac." I handed Mac a spare room key and headed back downstairs.

I knew I shouldn't drink on the job, but that hadn't stopped me before, so I headed towards the bar. Champagne wasn't really my thing, so I reverted to my old standby – chardonnay. I walked my drink back to my table and sat down. My mother and father were out on the dance floor boogie-ing with the best of them, and my sister and Bob were making their way around the room, thanking everyone and collecting large envelopes.

I scanned the room and thought that I caught a glimpse of Dirk Jacobson, but I figured the wine was probably just playing tricks with my mind. I mingled with some cousins I hadn't seen in a while and enjoyed compliments about how beautiful I looked, how great my makeup was, and so on. I wasn't the belle of the ball, but I was still feeling pretty good about everything. I had pictured an evening of Lenny badgering me for story updates, but instead, I had managed to bring the story to him. I was sure once he got past his lust for Rose, he would take notice of what a great producer I was.

Thirty minutes later, the cell phone in my clutch buzzed, and I saw a text from Mac that they were ready for me. The party was scheduled until one in the morning, so I knew it wouldn't be too big of a deal if I ducked out for a half an hour. I made sure my mother wasn't looking and then snuck out of the ballroom.

I walked into the room to find Rose seated in an interview chair with Reid and Foxy across from her. Mac had set up both the Betacam and the little PD-150 so that he could capture both angles of the interview. Lenny was running around the room making small adjustments here and there, and Manny looked like he had just been through a wind tunnel. His hair, which was normally slicked back, was tangled every which way, and his shirt had a large rip around the neck. Rose, on the other hand, looked perfectly composed – a dose of Manny was all that she needed to calm her nerves.

Lenny came running at me when I walked in the room and whispered in my ear. "Rose said you told her you would blur her face, is that true?"

I didn't like him so close to me, and I backed away as I answered. "No, I said we might, depending on the testimony she provides."

"All right, well, we're shooting her full face for now – you have a release from her, right?" he whispered.

I nodded, recalling the fifty dollars I had bribed her with on the night that we told her Chaser was dead. That seemed so long ago, and it amazed me to think that she had known who the killer was all this time.

I walked over to Reid and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me and smiled. "Some traffic, huh? I heard you got in a fight with a cop?" I said.

"I didn't get in a fight – Foxy did," Reid corrected.

"A-hole punched me right in the gut. At least he spared my face," Foxy said. "He warned me that he was gonna take a shot so I told him I was a TV star and to go low."

"He told you he was going to hit you and you let him?" I asked.

Foxy shrugged. "Yeah."

"You're lucky he stopped at your stomach, he could have gone lower," I said.

"Nah. Then I'd have to sic Sherry on him and that would mean a whole world of hurt."

"I believe you." I turned to Reid. "Are you guys all set for this?"

"We're waiting on you, honey," Reid said.

"Well, I've been waiting on you all day. Now try to speak clearly and talk in narratives so I can cut this puppy together. And try to act like you respect me, okay? My boss is watching."

"You got it, boss," Foxy said, saluting me.

I gave him a wink then sat down next to Lenny. "Okay, Mac, let's go."

"Speed," Mac called out.

"Speed," Manny seconded.

I looked at Reid and nodded that he should start. "Rosario Ortez, do you understand that this interview is being recorded and that it may be used as testimony in a court of law?"

Rose looked a little nervous. "But you guys aren't gonna show this until they get the guys, right?"

"Right," I said from off camera.

"Yes, I understand." Rose said.

"We understand that you have some information to offer us in connection with the murders of John Walters, a.k.a. Chaser, and Jason Loudermilk, a.k.a. Kitt. Is that correct?"

I had a big smile on my face. Reid was doing great – his mother would be kicking herself for not making him pursue acting.

"Yeah, I do. Stop being so official and shit," Rose said. "You're freaking me out."

"Just tell us what you know," Foxy said.

"I know you guys think I killed Chaser and Kitt, but I didn't."

"Okay, then who did?" Reid asked.

Rose sat there silent for a moment, thinking.

"Are you trying to think of an answer now?" Reid demanded. "Are you just making this shit up?"

"No!" Rose said.

"Then who did it, Rose? It's not that hard of a question – you either know or you don't – now, which is it?"

I looked at Lenny and mouthed the words _Bad Cop_. Lenny smiled. He was really getting into the story and knew this was going to make the show a hit. I knew it too.

"Look, I'm scared, okay? They're coming for me next."

"Okay, let's start from the beginning," Foxy said. "What can you tell us about the border transports?"

"I set them up," Rose said, sounded almost ashamed. "When I was a kid in Mexico, my cousins used to race cars on drag strips. They would brag that they could outrun the Federales and jump the border. I'd always dreamed of coming to America, and when I was twenty-four, I finally got the chance. I'd been speaking with someone in LA and he agreed to pick me up stateside for a fee of three hundred bucks. It seemed so simple. Once I got here I started hanging out at the tracks. It was what I knew and I loved the rush. I thought if I could connect with some gringos that knew how to handle a car maybe I could bring some more of my family over."

"When did you meet Kitt and Chaser?" Reid asked.

"I met Chaser first. I have a sexual addiction so we were banging pretty quickly. I screwed around on him, because I had to, but he knew I loved him too. It was maybe three months in when I brought up the idea of helping some of my relatives get across the border. I was very close with my cousins, the drag racers, and I thought they would get along with Chaser so I had him bring them over first. Chaser was taking a risk so I made them pay him five hundred dollars each and he gave me fifty percent of the cut."

"So did your cousins start transporting people across the border too?" Reid asked.

"A little bit at first, but then they started getting into trouble with the law. They were running drugs and me and Chaser didn't want to be a part of that shit. He was clean and so was I. I lost touch with my cousins after a while, but Chaser continued to help me bring my family across the border. Before long, word was getting out and more and more people were willing to pay Chaser up to a thousand dollars each in exchange for their freedom from Mexico. He was doing four or five runs a week and giving me half the cut. I was banking sometimes ten thousand dollars a week, but the border cops were catching on fast.

"Chaser introduced me to Kitt a little while later," Rose continued. "I didn't know if I could trust him, so I took my time before I let him in on the operation. Chaser needed help and Kitt was his best friend, so eventually we brought him in. Kitt was fast, really fast, but he was a risk taker too and spent a lot of time messing with the border cops. He drew a lot of attention to himself and to our operation. We only gave Kitt thirty percent of the money and me and Chaser split the rest, so Kitt started smuggling drugs into the states for extra cash. I was the only one who had contact with the people we were moving, but word managed to get around that if you brought a bag of coke with you, Kitt would make it worth your while. My parents were ashamed that this was happening and that it was something I was involved in."

"So what went wrong?" Reid asked.

"Border patrol was all over us and it was getting harder and harder to get in and out unnoticed. I got a call from my contact in Tijuana about a pick-up and Chaser and I made the arrangements. Sometimes I would ride with Chaser, but on that night I didn't because he was picking up three men and there was no room for me in the car. The guys he picked up were loaded with drugs because they thought Kitt was picking them up and they figured they could give him drugs instead of money for the safe passage. Chaser told them he wouldn't take them with the drugs because it was too much of a risk. He was trying to get them out of the car because they couldn't pay anyway, but then those border cops showed up and Chaser had to take off. He had a lot of weight in the car and was skidding out of control so he panicked and threw the guys out of the car. He was too close to getting caught and he didn't want to get nailed for the drug charges – those are way more severe than moving people across the border."

"What happened to the guys he threw out of the car?" Reid asked.

"Border cops got one of them and he died," Rose said solemnly.

There was a moment of silence in the room. I thought back to the men Reid and I had encountered and somehow knew they were responsible for this. It made me feel sick.

"I got word from my contact that the victim's family was very upset and had plans to come after Chaser. Chaser didn't kill that man, but the family blamed him for throwing him out of the car. Then I got a call from my cousins – the ones I lost contact with – and they asked me who was driving the car that killed Luis – that was his name. I told them it didn't happen like that, the border patrol were the ones who killed him, but they wouldn't listen. They demanded a name but I said I wouldn't tell. I loved Chaser and I was scared for his life."

"Why didn't you go to the police?" Foxy asked.

Rose gave him a knowing stare. "Don't be stupid, cop. What we were doing was against the law – I would go to jail. I probably still will after all this is over. But I'd rather be in jail than dead."

"So how did they find Chaser?" Reid continued.

"I got a call about a pick-up. It was a trap but I didn't know it. Chaser was pretty shaken up about what happened but they were offering big money. We figured we could make one more score and then leave town together. Nobody showed when we went to make the pick-up but they must have followed us or something because they killed Chaser that night."

"Who did?" Reid asked.

"My cousins – Miguel and Diego."

"What are their last names?" Foxy asked pulling out his notepad.

"Ortez – same as me," Rose answered.

"And they are currently residing in the US?" Foxy asked.

"Yes, in Los Angeles."

"How do you know it was them? Were you there – did you see them hit Chaser with the car?"

Rose dropped her head down. "No, but I know it was them because they called me after to tell me what they had done."

"That explains why you weren't surprised when we showed up at your door – you already knew," Foxy said.

"Right. I didn't want you to know Chaser and I were close because I thought you would find out about the border thing. I guess you did anyway."

"What did they say to you on the phone?" Reid asked.

"They said it was an eye for an eye. Chaser killed their friend so now they killed him. I was upset and I didn't want them to think they had the upper hand, so I told them that they screwed up and killed the wrong driver. Immediately after I said it I realized how stupid it was to say but it was too late. They hung up on me and I had no way to contact them to let them know that Chaser _was_ the one. I fled to the race track that night to warn Kitt."

Everything she was saying fit with the sequence of events we had witnessed so I suspected she was telling the truth. I almost felt sorry for her – she let her anger get the better of her, and Kitt died because of a lie she told. I knew he wasn't a good guy, but I also knew he didn't deserve to die.

"I was hysterical and Kitt told me I was overreacting. I didn't want to tell him what I said to Miguel, but I did warn him that he might be their next target. Kitt was a risk-taker anyway and he got a high out of knowing he was being chased. I don't think he ever really believed that what I was warning him about was real."

"So they hit Kitt next," Reid said.

"Yes," Rose said looking down again. "I tried to contact them, I tried to call my contact at home and find out how to get in touch with them to set the record straight, but I couldn't. I finally got a tip that Diego was working as a cab driver in LA, but I didn't know which company he worked for. I started calling all the companies asking if they had a Diego Ortez working there and I tracked him down to the Indigo Cab Company in Sun Valley. Diego wasn't working that night so I scheduled with the dispatcher for Diego to pick me up at the mall the next day. I didn't give my real name, and I said that Diego had picked me up once before and I had liked him, so I wanted the same guy. Kitt was killed that night." Rose looked at the floor and shook her head. She began to cry. "I tried to save him, but I was too late."

I knew at this point that Rose was toast. Any promises I had made her were going to have to go out the window. I didn't know all the legal terms, but I knew that she was an accessory to Kitt's murder. She falsely fingered him as the killer and got him killed in the process.

"How did they find Kitt?" Reid asked.

"I told Kitt that I thought we should cool it with the pick-ups but he didn't want to. He and I were going at it in the car after the princess left," she said pointing at me, "and he swiped my cell phone. He must have gotten my contact out of there and called him to schedule more pick-ups. I guess one of them was a plant."

"What made you worry they were going to come after you next?" Reid asked.

"They called me again after they hit Kitt. I was scared and told them that I had made a mistake and that Chaser was the driver all along. They became very angry and told me that they needed to close the loop. They said I knew too much and had made them shed blood for no reason. My cousins are religious men. They were okay with the eye-for-an-eye murder of Chaser, but they grew very angry when they learned Kitt died because of my lie. So I went into hiding. I didn't know where to go so I broke into the princess's apartment and she brought me here."

I was getting tired of Rose referring to me as the "princess," but she was upset, and I didn't think this was the best time to argue with her. Rose broke down and started crying quite hard. Foxy put an arm around her to comfort her. I glanced over at Mac, who had a panicked look on his face. I caught his attention and mimed the question "What's wrong?" to him.

Mac pointed at the camera and indicated that he was running out of tape. He reached down to the floor and picked up a spare tape. I could hear that the tape was coming to an end and, I knew this was terrible timing. Rose was having a full-blown meltdown and we were going to lose it. Mac had beads of sweat forming on his forehead, and I knew he needed my help.

I stood up suddenly and called out, "Okay, freeze!" Everyone turned to me while Mac took the cue to quickly swap out the tape. "We're just holding for a tape change, thank you for your patience."

"Speed!" Mac called out.

"And action!" I said. I got quite a few strange looks, but we got the job done and managed not to miss anything. Rose cried a little more then sat up in her chair.

"Do you have anything else you think we need to know before we go after these guys?" Reid asked.

"No. What's going to happen to me?" Rose asked.

Reid looked at her apologetically. "We have to book you. I don't know if they will press charges, but we have to bring you into the station. You'll be safe there, Rose – Miguel and Diego will not be able to get to you."

Rose nodded. Foxy looked at me, then stood up and pulled out some handcuffs. I could have kissed him. I knew this was all for show, and I loved him for it. Rose stood up and Foxy cuffed her hands behind her back.

"I'll take you down to the station," Foxy told her and led her off camera.

When the two of them were completely out of the shot I called out, "And cut!"

"Whoa! That was amazing!" Lenny said jumping to his feet.

I high-fived with Mac. "That was awesome!" He agreed.

"Foxy, you are a natural!" I said.

"Yeah, it felt good, felt right to cuff her." Foxy said to me.

Everyone was excited and congratulating each other, but Rose wasn't feeling quite as chipper. She sat down in the corner of the room, hands cuffed behind her back, crying.

I walked over to her and knelt down. "Rose, I'm sorry. We got a little carried away there – we were just excited that we cracked the case. I know that Kitt was a special guy, and I'm sure Chaser was too, so I'm sorry that you lost them."

Rose looked up at me slowly, her mascara streaking down her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but instead shot a glob of spit right in my face.

"Fuck you!" she spat. "Don't try to pretend you understand my problems, puta!"

I was shocked and disgusted at the same time. I was limited in Spanish but I knew she was calling me a whore just the same. "You're calling me a whore?! Are you kidding?"

I was not a violent person, but there was just something about this chick that got me really heated. Luckily, Reid swopped in and grabbed my waist before I could knock her teeth in. He pulled me away from Rose and out into the hallway.

I was angry, but I got over it quickly as I wiped off my face and tried to look pretty for Reid. "Sorry about that. I just got overexcited. I got my story, you know."

"Let's not get too cocky until we nab these guys, okay? The case isn't solved yet."

"Yeah, yeah. Lenny said it's going to be the kick-off episode. You should be pumped, Reid – you're going to be famous."

"Ah yes, my life's dream fulfilled. Listen, we're gonna go book Rose, and then we'll track down the bad guys. I know you have to get back to the wedding, so we can handle it from here with Mac and Manny."

"I don't care about being there when you book Rose, but I'll be damned if I miss you arresting the killers." I looked at my watch. "The wedding still has several hours to go. How long do you think it will take to book Rose?"

Reid shrugged. "It could take a couple hours. We have to get all the way across town and there's a lot of paperwork involved."

"Great. So have Foxy take the crew with Rose and you can stay here with me and enjoy the wedding. I mean, you're all dressed up, right?"

"Actually, I planned to go to the station and call that cab company to track down our murderers," Reid said.

"Yes, I know, but you need a break. Besides, Dirk Jacobson is downstairs – could be fun."

Reid looked like he was actually considering it, but then he shook his head. "Sharpe, I would like to, but I can't. It's irresponsible. I'm supposed to keep the streets safe, and they're not while Rose's cousins are running around."

"Okay, look, the truth is I told my mother that you were my date and she was so happy. I haven't had a boyfriend in a while and so I kind of exaggerated things a bit. I'm sorry, I know it was stupid, but sometimes things just come out of my mouth."

"Yes, I've learned that about you."

"I know you're not going to say yes, but that's exactly why you should."

Reid looked down at me with his big brown eyes and smiled. "Okay, Sharpe, let's do this." He held up his arm and I took it in mine. I couldn't believe that he had said yes, and I was pretty excited about it.

Foxy opened the door and stepped outside. "The crew is breaking down – what's the plan?"

I grabbed Foxy and kissed him full on the lips. "You were brilliant in there!"

Foxy blushed and straightened his collar. "Ah, shucks."

I pointed my finger at him. "If you tell Sherry I kissed you, you're a dead man. Thanks for making me look good in front of Lenny."

"I'm gonna stick around here with Sharpe while you book Rose, okay? Call me when you're ready to go after the Ortez brothers."

Foxy looked at Reid, then me, then Reid again. "Uh-huh. Yeah, I get it. No problem."

I shoved Foxy in the arm. "Tell the crew to go down with you to the station, all right?" I turned to Reid. "Come on, let's get going before Rose comes out here and decks me."

Reid and I strolled towards the elevator in our evening wear, looking quite dignified.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Foxy called after us.

### Chapter 14.

As Reid and I strolled into the ballroom, I couldn't help but feel a little bit sad. It had only been a week, but I had spent so much time with him and Foxy, I was going to miss them. Lenny didn't want us to use the same teams for subsequent episodes and had lined up two new cops that I would be working with the next time around. Still, I wondered if Lenny would reconsider now that he'd seen Reid and Foxy in action. I wondered too if Reid and Foxy would consider taking this ride with me again. Truth be told, Reid was never happy about the arrangement and would probably be glad to have things back to normal without a TV crew following him.

"What are you thinking about?" Reid asked me.

I realized I was standing at the entrance of the ballroom not moving. I shook my head. "Oh, just about the case. It feels like years ago that we started this process, and now it's almost over."

"I know how you feel. I go through it almost every week. You kill yourself on a case and you get such a high when you solve it, then such a low when you realize it's over. But there's always another one to sink your teeth into – that's what I love about the job."

"I can't believe Rose knew who did it this whole time. I mean, what a poker face she had."

"I know. I bet when we go back and watch those tapes of yours it will seem so obvious to us, but hindsight is twenty-twenty."

I looked in the ballroom. Everyone was dancing and having a great time. The room looked amazing and was decorated in olive and chocolate linens and candles and flowers everywhere.

"Is that Star Count?" Reid asked me.

I smiled and gave him a _that's Hollywood_ shrug. "Should we do this?" I asked.

"Now or never," Reid said and put his hand in mine.

We walked inside and looked around. I noticed my mother out of the corner of my eye, and before I could turn and run, I was spotted. She smiled and charged towards me at full speed.

"If it isn't my darling daughter. Where have you been, sweetheart?"

"Sorry, Ma, um, I just had something I had to take care of."

My mother leaned in and whispered, "Is it your stomach again?"

I gave her a dirty look and she decided to drop it. Instead, she turned to Reid and placed a wandering hand on his shoulder. "Detective, very nice to see you again." Her hand traveled south to his chest, but he pulled back and placed an arm around me.

"Mrs. Sharpe – nice to see you again. That's a nice dress."

My mother giggled like a school girl and did a spin. "Really, you like it?"

"Mom stop flirting with my date, okay?" I said.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please mingle and enjoy." My mother took Reid's hand in hers. "We are very happy to see Victoria dating again."

I rolled my eyes and wondered why, even at thirty, my mother could still embarrass me. I took Reid by the hand and led him away. "I'm sorry about that."

I pointed towards table number two. "That's our table over there. Don't get freaked out but my mother had a place card made for you. It doesn't mean anything, okay?"

"Okay," Reid said and smiled at me.

I led him over to the table, and he pulled out my chair. "Thanks," I said. I didn't know whether he was putting on a show for my mother or genuinely acting like a gentleman.

"I'm gonna grab us some drinks – what would you like?" Reid asked me.

"Chardonnay, please. Thanks."

"Okay," Reid said and headed towards the bar.

A second later my sister was sitting beside me. She really did look beautiful in her gown, and it truly amazed me how on the biggest day of her life, both she and my mother still found time to be busybodies.

"Vicky, he is so hot. I can't believe you scored a date with that cop."

I smiled. "He is pretty cute, right?"

"The wedding planner told me you got yourself a room here at the hotel. I guess I don't have to ask why."

"How do you know that? Jeez, is nothing private anymore? Besides, that isn't why I got the room, but we'll talk about that later."

"Do you have someone else on the side? Oh, I wish I could be sexually promiscuous, Vicky."

I gave her a shove. "Go dance with your husband, would you?"

Reid came back carrying our drinks. "Oh, hi," he said to Ginny. "Congratulations."

Ginny stood up and looked at him. "Nice job catching the bouquet back there. Maybe our Vicky here will be the next to get married."

"Goodbye, Ginny," I said through gritted teeth.

"Right, I'll just leave you two alone," she said and scampered off.

Reid sat down and handed me my glass. I held it up. "To solving the case."

"To solving the case," he agreed, and we clinked glasses and sipped. "This is nice," Reid said. "You look really pretty, by the way."

"Thanks." This whole situation was feeling a bit awkward and I knew I was to blame. Reid looked over at the band and bobbed his head to the music.

"You missed some ceremony," I said. "Bob nearly came to blows with Guru Motgi – it was kind of intense."

"Then he'll fit in with your family well. You seem to be the aggressive types."

"I'm not really like that – Rose just pushes my buttons."

"That's what I like about you, Sharpe – you're fearless."

"If you say so."

The band decided to slow things down and play a ballad. Reid and I looked at each other, then looked down. Next we spent some time looking around the room and then at the band. Finally Reid stood up. "Will you dance with me?" he asked, holding out a hand.

"Oh...sure," I said, taking his hand.

Reid led me out to the dance floor, put a hand on my waist, and locked his other hand with mine. I felt nervous, but his body felt nice against mine. We danced a few turns and then he pulled me in closer to him. I unclasped my fingers from his and locked both arms around his neck. His hands found my lower back and he pulled me into him even closer, wrapping his arms around me.

I tried to keep things light even though I was feeling just the opposite. "So do you get a day off after all this?"

"Yes, one. During Rose's confession all I could think about was my bed and laying in it all day."

I had some dirty thoughts, but I kept them to myself. "Me too. I'm going to ask for two days to recover and then Lenny can hook me up with my new partners."

"Oh really? So me and Foxy can be replaced that easily?"

"Do you remember how tough you were on me the first few days? Now I get to deal with another you all over again."

"Maybe not. Let me know who the cops are and I'll place a call. I'll tell them they're lucky to have you."

"Ha! You must be an excellent liar," I said.

"I'll admit I was a little resistant at first but you kind of grew on me, Sharpe."

"Yeah, I didn't exactly imagine that I would be dancing with you at my sister's wedding after that first day."

"I'm glad you are," Reid said.

I smiled and leaned into him. His chest was broad and firm and I loved the way it felt against mine. Reid moved his hands up my back and between my shoulder blades. He pressed his hands together and eased me even closer towards him. Our heads were against each other now, and I could feel his breath on my neck. I decided to take a chance and touched the back of his head with my hand, testing the waters. I felt his lips touch my shoulder. He moved his mouth to my neck and I felt him kiss me.

I felt my breath catch and all at once, I knew he wasn't acting. He was feeling everything that I was. I gripped the back of his hair and held on to him. His lips moved slowly up my neck and across my jawline. I smiled, enjoying the sensation. His lips found mine and we kissed. It was innocent at first, but then our lips parted and I felt his tongue against mine. He kissed me slowly and tenderly. I felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach and a warm sensation below. The tenderness quickly evaporated as the passion intensified. His hands were moving up and down my back and my hands were moving through his hair. I felt myself yearning for him, needing him, wanting to envelop him inside me.

"Bradley?" I heard a woman's voice call from beside us.

Instantly the spell was broken as the two of us realized we had been making out in the dead center of the dance floor. Everyone was staring at us and the videographer was even recording the event.

We both turned to follow the voice calling Reid's name. It was an older woman, looking very polished in a black sequin dress, and a man, whom I presumed to be her husband, standing by her side. I looked at Reid, who had turned white.

"Mom, Dad. Hi."

I was so taken aback that I didn't know what to do. "Wow," I gasped. "These are your parents?" I shook my head and smiled speaking to myself. "Way to go, Sharpe, great first impression."

Reid's mother placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned in to me. "It's okay, dear, we're talent agents – we've seen it all."

"I didn't know you guys were going to be here," Reid said, still not understanding how he had just gotten busted by his parents.

"Evelyn is one of your father's favorite clients, honey. It's only natural that we would be invited to their daughter's wedding," Reid's mom explained.

"Right, yeah, I guess I didn't think about that. This is Victoria – she's their other daughter."

"I'm Ann and this is Henry," Ann said to me.

"Nice to meet you. I'm so embarrassed. Reid and I have just been working on a project really closely and..."

"No need to explain anything, sweetheart. We're just so happy to see Reid with a lady friend. It's been a while."

Reid turned to me and smiled. "Don't you just love mothers?"

Henry smiled at his son. "I was just saying to your mother – who the hell is going at it like that on the dance floor? Imagine my surprise when I saw it was our own son!"

My mother came flitting over to us and put an arm around Ann. "I see you've met my daughter. She isn't normally this much of an exhibitionist. Honey, you have certainly given the crowd here a good show."

I looked down at the floor. On the one hand, I was humiliated; on the other hand, I didn't really care. It seemed to be par for the course with me.

"So you've met my son, then?" Ann asked my mother.

"This is your son? Huh! Detective Reid, I didn't even put it together that you shared a last name. Wow, this is wonderful – maybe next year we can plan a wedding for these two!"

The two moms were getting very giddy. "Okay, Mom, slow down, we're not getting married," I said.

"Well, honey, he did catch the bouquet."

I had to admit she was right.

"Um, it was really great to see you guys, but we're just gonna go to the bar, okay?" Reid said, pulling on my arm.

"Oh, yes, we'll just let you two get back to what you were doing," Ann said, grinning.

Reid took my hand and pulled me away from the crowd and over to the bar. When we reached our destination, we both burst out laughing.

"That was really embarrassing. Oh my God." I laughed.

"Shots! Now!" Reid ordered the bartender.

"And here I thought Mom was going to steal my thunder at this wedding," Ginny said from behind me. "Little did I know my own sister would. That was some show."

Reid and I were still laughing, and though I tried, I couldn't manage to look apologetic. "Sorry, Ginny," I giggled.

Ginny cracked a smile and then burst out laughing too. "Oh man, everyone is talking about that kiss."

The bartender lined up two shots. Reid handed one to me and one to Ginny, then ordered one more. We all knocked them back.

"Whew – that felt good," Ginny said. "Watching you two got me all hot and bothered! I'm gonna go find my husband."

"You do that," I said and watched Ginny walk away.

"Maybe we could go someplace a little more private," Reid suggested.

I smiled. "That's just what I was thinking." I took Reid by the hand and discreetly led him out of the ballroom. Truth be told, as much as we may have tried to go unnoticed, all eyes were on us, and thanks to the wedding planner, everyone seemed to know I had a room at the Inn.

We stepped inside the elevator together. When the doors closed, Reid pulled me to him and kissed me. I leaned in, wrapping my arms around his waist then letting them drop down to his perfect butt. The elevator beeped and the doors opened. We pulled apart as a hotel guest stepped inside and pushed one of the buttons. Reid's hair was a mess, and his lips were covered in my lipstick. We rode in silence for several floors, exchanging glances and giggles.

Finally, the doors parted and we stepped out onto my floor. I pulled the key out of my purse and turned to Reid. "Let me just make sure the crew has cleared out before we go in there, okay?" Reid nodded and I put the key in the door. The room was empty, and all the equipment had been broken down and taken out. "All clear," I said.

Reid walked into the room behind me. The bed wasn't far from the entryway, and when I looked at it, all I could picture was Rose lying naked in the sheets. "I'm just going to go freshen up," I said.

"Okay. I'll just wait here," Reid said.

I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. I was wearing Spanx underneath my dress, and I didn't want Reid to see them. Thank goodness I was wearing nice underwear at least. I pulled off the Spanx, shoved them in the garbage can, and covered them up with a bunch of toilet paper. Next I rubbed my stomach, trying to smooth out the lines the Spanx had made on my skin. I looked in the mirror and realized I looked like a wreck. My lipstick was smeared everywhere and my hair, which had been styled so perfectly earlier, was a total disaster. I got a little nervous as I prepared to face Reid in the bedroom. I was realizing that Reid was not the guy I had pegged him to be. He wasn't a womanizer or a player, he was just a hardworking cop. I had no idea how someone so sexy could be interested in me, but I knew I liked him a lot, and I didn't want to screw this up.

I turned the knob and stepped into the bedroom. Reid was standing awkwardly in front of the bed, not sure whether he should sit or stand. He had taken off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. I walked over to him and looked up at his deep brown eyes.

"Look, I want you to know I don't do this kind of thing that often."

"You don't?" Reid joked. "Oh man, I thought this was a sure thing."

"Don't believe the hype."

I was standing only inches away from him, and my eyes were focused on his lips. He had really big lips, and when he kissed me they wrapped around my entire mouth. I had never been kissed like that before, and I wanted to experience it again.

"Sharpe, if you want to do this some other time, we can. I mean, this isn't really something I do so often either."

My eyes remained focused on his lips, and without realizing it my lips were moving closer and closer towards his. Reid got the hint and placed his hands around my face and pulled me in. His lips were soft and as his tongue entered my mouth I felt my body tingling all over. His big lips covered mine and he took my whole mouth in his. My hands moved down his back and over his firm buttocks. As I squeezed I could feel Reid's mouth smiling.

"Guess you changed your mind," Reid murmured.

We fell back onto the bed, Reid on top of me. I tried to spread my legs apart, but my dress was tight and didn't have much give. I could feel Reid's mouth at my chin, my neck, my collar bone. I arched my back as his lips moved down to my breasts. Reid stopped and looked up at me. "Maybe you should take this off. I don't want to ruin your dress."

"Right. Good idea," I said and sat up. I turned my back to him so that he could help me with the zipper. He kissed my shoulder, then my neck, and then the zipper came down. I felt the dress fall down off my shoulders and I knew I should probably be feeling self-conscious, but I was too turned on to care. I rolled over and pulled the dress down over my legs and threw it on a nearby chair.

I was lying under him in my bra and panties while Reid looked me up and down. "You're beautiful," he said and kissed me. I felt so comfortable with him that the fear I usually experienced at this point in the evening simply wasn't there. I undid his tie and pulled it off over his head. Then I unbuttoned his shirt. Reid got to his knees and pulled his shirt off. He had a white undershirt underneath, which he pulled up over his head. I could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he pulled it off, and his chest beneath was firm and tight. His pecs looked like two firm pillows that I thought I could rest quite comfortably on when this was all over.

I reached up and ran my fingers over his chest, then pulled him down to meet my lips with his. I felt his hand run up my leg and I bent my knees and wrapped my legs around his back. His hand moved up to my buttocks and his lips moved to my breasts. I felt his hand pulling down my bra, and then I felt his warm lips kissing me. His tongue danced around until it found my nipple and made circular motions around it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I knew then that I had to have him.

My hands moved to Reid's pants, and I could feel him hard and ready under his clothes. Reid kicked off his shoes and his pants while his lips traveled down my breasts to my stomach and then lower. I reached for his boxer shorts and tried to pull them down, but they were buttoned shut. My fingers worked to undo each button and find what was hiding beneath. I moved my hand down his body and reached for him when I heard the sound of the door unlocking. I froze and stared at the door. "What the hell?"

Reid jumped out of bed, pulling up his boxer shorts in the process. He ran over to his jacket which was hanging on the chair and pulled his gun out of the pocket. I pulled the blankets over me and held my breath as the door opened.

Reid was facing the door, legs spread, gun pointed. As the door opened, Reid cried out, "Freeze!" He hadn't had a chance to button up his boxer shorts, and as the door swung towards him, his shorts came down.

Foxy was standing on the other side, hands up, with a huge smile on his face. His eyes traveled between Reid and myself. "Oh man – I totally called this! Hey Manny, check this out!"

Reid looked humiliated as he pulled his boxer shorts up. Manny appeared in the doorway. Foxy was roaring laughing. "Look, guys – a private dick!"

Manny came inside and joined in the laughter, then Mac, then Rose. Apparently this was a party. I didn't know what to do, so I pulled the sheets over my head and hid.

Reid was holding his shorts up, and his face was turning red with anger. "Can't you knock! Jesus, how the hell did you get in here, asshole?!"

Foxy could barely speak. He managed to point at me, and I remembered that I had given him the spare room key.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Reid looked at Rose. "And why the hell hasn't she been booked yet?"

Foxy was still doubled over and was having trouble breathing. He made his way over to the bed and sat down next to me. He looked up and took a deep breath. "Ahh! I needed a laugh like that." He turned to me. "Looking good, Sharpe."

I peeked my head out of the covers and punched him in the gut.

"There had better be a good reason you're back here," Reid said.

"Well, not really. If I had known what was going on, dude, I would have told Rose to forget about her purse."

Rose moved over to the desk and retrieved her purse. "Got it," she said. She looked Reid up and down and rolled her tongue over her lips. She glanced over at me, then back at him. "When you're ready for the big leagues you let me know."

"Get out of here," Reid said to Rose and everyone else who was gathered in the room.

Mac was staring at me, shaking his head. "You never learn, do you, Sharpe?"

"Just get out!" I said and threw a pillow at Mac. I didn't need to be judged by him or anybody else.

The boys and Rose filed out of the room, stifling their giggles. The door slammed closed, and Reid put the chain in the door. He turned to me and gave me a half-smile. "I think this has been one of the most humiliating nights of my life."

"Worse than the Reid Peed incident?" I asked.

"Big time."

I smiled. "It's business as usual for me. You sure you still want to hang around me?"

Reid sat down on the bed and kissed me. "Yeah."

"Good," I said. "Look, we've already been busted tonight by our parents, your partner, and my crew. I should probably get back to the wedding anyway."

Reid nodded. "Yeah, maybe we should try this when we're off duty."

"In another state."

"Another country," Reid added. He leaned in and kissed my shoulder. "I still think you're incredibly sexy."

I felt another tingle rush through my body. "Don't do that – that's how we got into trouble before."

Reid placed his hands around my face and pulled me in. He kissed me and I melted. I fell back on the bed with Reid on top of me. Then, all at once, he stopped and sat up. "We'd better get back to the party."

I laughed and slapped him playfully. "Tease."

*****

Reid was anxious to get back to the station, so I relieved him of his wedding date duties and let him go back to work. He wanted to track down Miguel and Diego tonight and promised to call me before they went in for the kill. I figured it was better that he left anyway. He was too much of a distraction, and if we slow danced again, we might end up right back in my room, missing out on the party and my sister's big day. I could imagine my mother telling all her guests that her darling daughter Victoria didn't end up in any of the pictures because she was too busy boffing the cop she was working with. As it was, I was never going to live this down.

I returned to the party and tried to act like nothing had happened. I attempted to dance a few songs, but too many people were stopping me to ask about the sexpot I was making out with and where I was hiding him. I figured it would be easier if I stayed put, so I sat at my table and received the various enquiries as they came in. The consensus seemed to be that Reid was super hot, and to my surprise, my status had actually gone _up_ a few notches in the eyes of my family.

I was entertaining a small crowd with all the juicy details when my new brother-in-law walked up.

"Hey there, Vapor-Rub. I saw you bumping and grinding with that cop. Did you think you were at a night club or something?"

"I just wanted to show you and Ginny how's it's done, Bobble-head. From what I hear, you could use all the help you can get."

"So that was like a live porn video to warm us up for tonight?" Bob asked me.

I flinched. "Ew! You are so nasty, Bob!"

The crowd around me agreed and ordered him away. Somehow, Bob had ended up the bad guy even though I was the slut humping her date on the dance floor. I beamed.

The wedding turned out to be a huge success and a great party. I actually spent a little bit of time speaking with Reid's parents and the rest of the time dancing and partying with my cousins and sister's friends. When the clock struck one, there was nothing I wanted to do more than go up to my hotel room and go to sleep, but I knew that wasn't in the cards for me. Lenny was floating around the wedding, trying to pick up girls and asking me for updates all night. We both knew this story was important, and I assured him over and over that I would get the shot.

I pulled out my cell phone and saw that I had a missed call from Reid. I checked my messages and learned that they had located Miguel and Diego's apartment and were planning to apprehend them tonight. I panicked, not knowing what time the message was left, but before he hung up, Reid said he would pick me up out front at one fifteen and we could ride together. It was a damn good thing I had nearly slept with him – otherwise, he would have never made that concession.

I ran up to my room to throw on the sundress I had worn that morning. It wasn't at all appropriate, but it was better than a full-length evening gown. I strolled outside at ten past one and saw Reid already parked out front. Foxy was sitting next to him in the passenger's seat, and Mac and Manny were parked in the chaser car. I gave the cops a wave and leaned in their car window. "I'll ride with the crew. I don't want to screw anything up for you guys."

Foxy looked like he was about to say something crass, but I stopped him with a stern look. Reid nodded at me, and I headed back to ride with my boys. I opened the back door of the SUV and jumped inside. "Good evening, gentlemen. Nice to see you again."

"It was nice to see you earlier baby – all of you," Manny joked. "Ay, caramba!"

"Manny, you had sex with Rose in the bathroom while we all listened. Are you really judging me?"

Manny looked meek. "No, I guess not."

"Good, because you're not allowed, and you're not either, Mac. I know you don't think I should get involved with people at work, but guess what, work is all I do. Plus I like Reid, okay?"

Mac turned to me from the driver's seat. "That's fine, Sharpe. It's none of my business anyway."

He sounded like an injured doe, and I suddenly felt guilty. Had I bruised his male ego or something? I didn't know, but I also didn't have time to care. My story was about to peak and I needed to concentrate.

Mac pulled a hoodie out of his backpack and handed it to me. "Here, it's cold."

I took the sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. "Thanks."

Mac put the car in gear, and we pulled out of the parking lot.

"So what's the game plan?" I asked Mac.

"They tracked the perps back to the Indigo Cab Company. They're off tonight, so we're gonna hit them at home."

"Do they live together?"

"Yeah, they're staying at a motel in Sun Valley – close to their work."

"Sounds good. I know you guys are tired, but you have to be on point with this shoot – okay? No running out of film or anything," I said.

Mac turned around and shot me a dirty look. I didn't care – anger would bring him energy, which we all needed.

"How did Rose respond to being booked?" I asked.

"That bitch was pissed," Manny said. "But she looked sexy as hell in those handcuffs."

"Well, if we grab her cousins, maybe she can work out a deal with the DA."

"Ah, she'll do just fine in the slammer. She's tough, plus she likes that girl-on-girl shit. Ay, caramba!" Manny said.

It was late so the traffic was light, but it still took us nearly an hour to get to our destination. We pulled up to a dilapidated old building. It had Spanish tiles on the roof that were cracked and falling apart, and the building was the color of smog. It was a two-story motel with entrances to each unit on the outside of the building.

A while back, I worked with a woman who was on-site in Death Valley doing a shoot. The production didn't have much money, so they put her up in a motel room that had a door that opened to the street. She woke up at three a.m. to a lunatic banging on her door and screaming "Dolores!" That wasn't her name, but the guy was drunk and disoriented and scared the hell out of her. After that she vowed never to stay in a motel again. I agreed that motels were bad news, and the fact that I was about to pick up two murderers in one of them was living proof.

We parked the car half a block down the street from the motel, and Mac and Manny began loading up their gear. I walked over to Foxy and Reid's car. They were checking the ammo in their guns and pulling on bullet proof vests.

"Uh, do I get one?" I said, pointing to their vests.

"You, sweetheart, are not going in. We can't risk it," Reid said.

"We talked about it on the way over and it's just not worth it," Foxy added.

I felt my stomach drop. "But you're gonna let the guys in, right?" Reid shook his head no. "Then how the hell am I supposed to get my shot?" I asked, starting to panic.

Reid stepped out of the car and walked over to me. "Sharpe, these guys ran down one man and shot another in cold blood. They're probably going to try to shoot us too – I can't risk you getting hurt, not when things are just getting started with us, okay?"

Reid brushed his finger over my shoulder, and another tingle ran through me. My sexual desires helped ease some of my disappointment, but not all of it. The biggest moment of my career was about to disappear, plus the guy that I really liked was going up against a bunch of bad guys and was, in his own words, _probably_ going to get shot. I looked back at Mac and Manny and suddenly had an idea. "Just give me a few minutes, okay? Let me talk to Mac."

"There's nothing to talk about, Sharpe," Reid said, but it was too late. I was already running towards Mac and Manny.

Mac and Manny were standing behind the SUV, testing their gear.

"They won't let us film," I said.

"What?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, they think these guys are gonna try to shoot at them and they don't want us there."

"Sounds good to me," Manny said. "I ain't getting shot at for no bullshit job."

I looked at Mac and smiled sweetly. "I was thinking maybe you'd have an idea about how we could get the shot."

"Yeah, I know your game. You're only nice to me when you want something."

"I'm always nice."

Mac rubbed his head. "Okay, let me think. These dudes are on the first floor so we can probably set a camera outside the window, but we'd have to be quiet. They work the night shift, so they might still be up. I have a couple long-range lenses, so we could rig far away."

"We can wire Reid and Foxy for sound so at least we'll get that shit recorded," Manny added.

"I wish we had those cameras from the interrogation room at the station," Mac said. "Wait, we can pull the one off Reid's dash. We'll wire it to Foxy, they'll be less likely to notice the bulge on him."

"They're wearing vests so maybe you can rig it in there. We've got the PD-150 too. I think you should hang on to that one and shoot. You can stay outside while they apprehend them, but once they're cuffed you've got to run in there," I said.

"That will work," Mac said. He grabbed a screw driver and headed to Reid's car.

I ran back over to Reid and Foxy and explained the game plan.

"I don't know, Sharpe, I need to be agile during this thing. I can't have all these wires coming out of my ass," Foxy said.

I gave Foxy a once-over. "Do you really think it will make a difference?"

"Go ahead and take your shots at me," Foxy said. "It just leaves the playing field wide open for me."

I raised my hands up in surrender. "I think I've taken enough shots from you already, for today at least. Just try on the equipment and if you can't move around with it on, we'll make adjustments, okay? Besides, this is the climax to your story line – we have to get it on tape."

Foxy looked at Reid and smiled. "You've already had your storyline climax, right, partner?"

"No, actually I didn't, pal, thanks to you." Reid smirked.

"True," Foxy admitted. "Sorry, pal. Sorry, Sharpe."

I threw my hands up, not wanting to discuss it further.

Mac and Manny worked quickly, rigging a mini camera both on Foxy and in the bushes a few yards away from the motel room. Within thirty minutes we were ready to roll. Manny and I staged ourselves next to the camera in the bushes, and Mac planned to stay just outside the front door – ready to bust in when the time was right. Mac had also rigged the cops with earpieces so they could communicate with us better and let us know when the coast was clear. I had the fleeting thought that we might be going through all this trouble only to capture the wrong guys, but I let it pass. It didn't really matter if they were guilty or not for my story. All that mattered was that we made an arrest.

Mac had rigged Foxy's point-of-view Camera to a small receiving monitor that he placed next to the locked camera in the bushes. The image was small and grainy, but it gave Manny and me a great idea as to what was going on inside. I had a microphone in my ear so I could communicate with the cops via their earpieces. I was sure to put it in the opposite ear that I lost the Q-tip in – we didn't need another incident tonight. "Testing, testing," I said in a whisper.

"Check," Foxy said back to me. "You ready, Sharpe?"

I nodded to Manny, and he began rolling. I also gave Mac, who was standing by the door, a thumbs-up. "Okay," I said. "Rolling."

"We're going in," Foxy said.

At his angle, Mac was able to get a great shot of Reid and Foxy approaching the motel door. They both looked super tough with their bullet proof vests under their shirts and their badges hanging around their necks like dog tags. I decided I would depict this segment in slow motion and add some tough-guy music when I got to the edit. Both Reid and Foxy had their guns drawn, and when they reached the door, they didn't knock. Instead, Reid slammed against it with the side of his body and fell inside.

We could hear a lot of shuffling, but we couldn't see much through the camera in the window. "Foxy, we can't see, open the window curtain!" I ordered into my earpiece.

We could see in Foxy's camera that the two suspects were lying in their beds, both wearing their boxer shorts and stained wife-beater undershirts. Foxy managed to pull the curtain back, and Manny instantly jumped behind the camera and started zooming and panning to capture the action. "This is freaking awesome, baby!" Manny announced.

I looked over at Mac and saw that he had run in behind the cops, filming. The man was my savior.

"Freeze! Put your hands in the air!" Reid commanded.

I couldn't see much through Foxy's POV cam, but I did see one man putting up his hands while the other seemed to be reaching for something.

"Gun!" I whispered in Foxy's ear.

The next thing I heard was a huge thud as Foxy tackled one of the brothers and pinned him to the bed. "Get the cuffs!" Foxy called out.

I couldn't see anything, but Manny was getting everything on his camera. "Oh shit! The perp just punched out Reid!"

"What?!" I shrieked.

"He's down Sharpe, he's down!"

"Foxy – Reid is down! He's down!" I cried in panic.

"He's running – the perp is running. Oh man!" Manny said.

"What?!" I was two seconds away from running in there when Manny spoke again.

"Mac just decked him! Foxy's got the cuffs on the guy on the bed. Reid's up – oh wow! He just punched the perp and he slammed into the wall. Mac's back behind the camera and Reid's pulling out the cuffs. They got them, Sharpe, they got them!" Manny narrated.

His commentary was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. "Foxy – are you guys okay in there?" I asked.

"We're okay, we're okay. They're both cuffed!"

I turned to Manny. "Grab that camera – let's get in there!"

Manny snapped the camera off the tripod and the two of us went running inside. Some of the other guests at the motel were coming out of their rooms now, but I paid them no mind as I rushed through the door. Inside, both men were lying on the bed, facedown, hands cuffed behind their backs. Reid had a cut above his eye, and Foxy was totally out of breath. Mac had his camera up and was panning back and forth between the Ortez brothers and the cops.

"Oh man, that was awesome!" I said and pointed at the Ortez brothers. "They're in their underwear – oh, this is great!"

Mac took my excitement as his cue to stop taping and put his camera down.

"Dude, nice!" Reid said to Mac. "You saved my ass." They exchanged a fist-bump and Reid placed a hand on Mac's shoulder. "Seriously, man, thank you."

"Happy to help," Mac said.

"And here I was gonna kick your ass for charging in there after us," Reid said.

"MacGyver!" Foxy called out and patted Mac on the back. "You really are a good guy to have around."

"Okay, guys, haul them out of here," I said.

Mac and Manny both rolled their cameras as Reid and Foxy led Miguel and Diego out of the motel. Outside, lots of motel guests had crowded around. One woman was blabbering in Spanish, and the manager was shouting that we were gonna have to pay for the broken door. In the light, I saw that Miguel and Diego were probably only in their late twenties. It was sad to know that they would likely spend the rest of their lives behind bars. Still, I was jealous that Reid and Mac had gotten their punches in. These sons of bitches deserved about a million more.

Reid and Foxy led the men to their car and placed them in the back seat. It was closing in on three in the morning, and I hoped by dawn, this case would be wrapped up.

### Chapter 15.

At the station, the men were separated into the two interview rooms. The cops wanted to make them sweat it out for a while, so we shot some interviews with Reid and Foxy before they went in. I positioned Reid and Foxy in the control room with Miguel behind the glass in the background. The lighting was hard and edgy and made them look tough.

"Tell me about the game plan," I said to Reid from behind the camera.

Reid opened his mouth to speak, but Foxy raised a hand. "May I?" he asked Reid. Reid signaled that he should go ahead and speak. Foxy turned to me and smiled.

"In a situation where you have two suspects involved in the same crime, it is best to separate them as quickly as possible. You don't want to give them an opportunity to discuss a game plan or formulate a lie. On the way over here we wouldn't allow the suspects to speak and we separated them into two rooms for the interviews. We'll be performing the classic ploy of telling one suspect that the other squealed and convincing him that if he cooperates, we'll cut him a deal."

"And will you cut him a deal?" I asked.

"We don't have much power in that regard, but if a suspect is especially helpful, we can usually pull some strings." Foxy explained.

"Do you think they'll fall for it?" I asked.

"Probably. These two don't seem like the brightest bulbs, if you know what I mean."

"Detective Reid – do you have anything to add?"

Reid smiled shyly. "No, I think Fox-uh, Detective Flanagan covered everything."

"Great," I said and placed a hand on Mac's shoulder, signaling him to stop filming.

As the cops got ready to enter the first interview room, Mac sat in the control room and made sure the cameras were positioned properly, that we had sufficient tape stock, and that the audio could be heard. Everything looked to be in order as Foxy and Reid headed in to interview Miguel.

I grabbed a seat next to Mac with Manny on the other side of me. "I feel like we need some popcorn up in here," Manny said.

Miguel was relatively short, with long black hair. He was still dressed in his undershirt and boxers and looked rather weak and pathetic.

"Do you know why you're here?" Foxy asked Miguel.

"No English," Miguel said with anger in his eyes.

Foxy threw up his hands. "Great."

Reid stood up and stared into Miguel's eyes. "You better not be bullshitting me, compadre. It's late and it's gonna get even later if we have to wait for a translator. Are you sure you don't understand?"

Miguel leaned in and looked Reid directly in the eyes. "I understand."

Reid sat back and relaxed in the chair. "Good. Detective Flanagan, continue, please."

"Do you know why we arrested you?" Foxy asked again.

"No," Miguel said.

"We brought you in because you are a suspect in the murder of two individuals – John Walters and Jason Loudermilk."

"I don't know them," Miguel answered.

"They went by the street names Chaser and Kitt. They ran immigrants across the border. Does that ring a bell now?"

"No."

Reid stood up suddenly and addressed Miguel. "I don't have time for this bullshit. If you're not gonna be straight with us, we're not gonna bother talking to you. We'll just lock your ass up."

Foxy followed Reid's lead and stood up and walked out of the room – slamming the door.

"Shit," I said out loud. I was really tired and I was hoping this jerk would just confess and let us go home.

"Hang on, Sharpe – it's all part of the game," Mac said and zoomed in on Miguel's face. He seemed angry and maybe tormented, but I could have been imagining that. We all turned around and looked through the glass behind us as Foxy and Reid entered the second room.

They sat down and looked at Diego. "Diego, we have a little problem here," Foxy began. "Your buddy in there is panicked, and he's singing like a song bird. He's telling me he saw you shoot Jason Loudermilk, street name Kitt, in cold blood. He also said you were driving the car when John Walters, street name Chaser, was run down."

"You're lying," Diego said.

"Someone is," Foxy continued. "See, one of the witnesses described a man with long hair as the shooter. You have short hair, but we've got your pal Miguel swearing up and down that you pulled the trigger."

Diego seemed to go through a series of emotions. First he looked angry, then nervous, then in shock.

"Do you want to help us make sense of the situation? Or do you want to go down for your friend? The choice is up to you."

"I don't want to talk to you," Diego said.

"Okay, then let me explain to you your options," Foxy said casually. "You can talk to me now if you'd like, or I can book you now and in six months when this goes to trial you can talk to the judge. I was just trying to save you some jail time, but maybe you like those guys messing with you in there. You like men, right, Diego?"

Diego's face was turning red, and he was getting angrier and angrier. Reid hadn't said a word, but he also hadn't taken his eyes off Diego the entire time, and Diego kept glancing at him uncomfortably.

"So what's it gonna be, pal?" Foxy asked.

Diego looked from Foxy to Reid and back to Foxy again. I could see that he was sweating now, and he looked like he might vomit at any moment. His body started shaking and the tears started to fall. He was starting to get hysterical, and he could barely speak. "I...didn't want...to be...involved in this," Diego managed to get out.

Foxy placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know pal, I know. Detective Reid, would you get our friend here a glass of water?"

Reid stood up slowly and walked out of the door. I jumped up and grabbed a pack of cigarettes I had been storing in the control room. I opened the door and ran out to hand them to Reid.

"Here, offer him one of these," I said.

Reid looked at the cigarettes like I was holding a gun. "Since when do you smoke?"

"I don't. I bought them a while back for just this very moment. Come on – it adds ambience."

"But if I give him a cigarette, I'm gonna want one," Reid said.

"Well, too bad. You're the good guy and good guys don't smoke."

Reid begrudging took the pack, then grabbed a cup of water and headed back into the interrogation room.

Inside, Reid handed Diego the water and offered him a cigarette. Diego gratefully accepted the cigarette and lit up. I smiled as I watched them – I had my shot. The smoke was slowly filling the room, and Diego seemed to be enjoying the tobacco. All I could hope for at this point was for Diego to blow smoke in Reid's face and for Reid to punch him out. Now, that's entertainment! Instead, I had a small Mexican man, puffing a cigarette and trying to stifle his tears. It was a little pathetic to look at, but I had to remember that even if this man didn't pull the trigger, he was an accessory to murder.

"We didn't know which one of them did it," Diego began. "Which one of them killed Pedro. Our families wanted vengeance – those gringos killed our friend, you know?"

Foxy nodded, and Diego continued. "Miguel said it was an eye for an eye. I wasn't there when he hit that first guy, but he told me about it. I thought it was over, but then Rosa said we hit the wrong guy, you know? Miguel said he needed me to drive the cab while we got the other guy. I didn't want to do it, but he made me."

Inside the control room I squeezed Mac's arm. "We got it," I said.

"Congratulations, Madame Producer," Mac said to me and smiled.

Inside the interview room, Foxy and Diego went back and forth some more as Diego explained the details of how Rose helped them with the Mexican connection and bringing people up north. He explained how he never meant to hurt anyone, but that Miguel was bad news and he was afraid of him. He was afraid, too, that Miguel would come after him for ratting him out, but then again, to his knowledge, Miguel was the rat.

Reid pulled out a sheet of paper and explained to Diego that his confession had been videotaped. He asked Diego to sign a document waiving his Miranda rights, which he did. Then Reid stood up and walked out of the room. He appeared in the control room a minute later. "Sharpe – do you need him to sign your release too?"

I smiled, impressed. "Yeah, but I can bring it in there – I know it's not part of your job."

"Just give it to me, Sharpe," Reid said, and I handed it over.

Reid managed to get Diego to sign my release too. The man was so scared that he would have signed off his firstborn if it meant his freedom.

"Diego, we appreciate your help in this case, and we're going to talk to the District Attorney on your behalf. In the meantime, we need to place you under arrest. By your own admission, you are an accessory to murder, and we have to go through the proper channels. Do you understand?" Foxy asked.

Diego nodded solemnly. He stood up, and Foxy placed a set of handcuffs on him behind his back. Reid stepped out and walked into the interrogation room Miguel was in. In the control room, we all swiveled our chairs around and watched as Reid entered the room. Miguel looked up, annoyed that he was still being held captive.

"You ready to talk?" Reid said.

"I ain't got nothing to say," Miguel said. "I want a lawyer."

"Stand up," Reid said.

Miguel stood slowly, confused. Reid turned him around and pushed him against the wall. I laughed because I knew he was being dramatic for the cameras.

"What you doing, man?" Miguel protested.

"I'm arresting you," Reid said. "You don't want to talk, right? So I'm just gonna send you to jail. You can arrange to talk with a lawyer there – you'll need one."

Reid cuffed him and hauled him out of the interrogation room. I beamed and whipped out my cell phone. It was almost five in the morning, but I didn't care. I dialed Lenny's home number.

I heard the usual hacking and coughing, and then finally Lenny got on. "Hello?"

"I got the story. When's my deadline to deliver?"

"Day after tomorrow by six o'clock. Show airs Wednesday night. The editors already pulled some promo footage and I'm gonna get it over to the network tomorrow to start running."

I was on zero sleep and I had less than forty-eight hours to deliver my episode, but that was the way it was with reality TV. I was running on adrenaline, and I figured it could keep me going for at least two more days. "Okay, I'm gonna run the footage over now before the traffic hits to get digitized. When does my editor start in the morning?"

"Ten. Leave him some notes on the assembly edit and I'll have him throw it together for you. Plan to be in the office by three."

Three o'clock was very generous of Lenny, and I appreciated it. Had he not been at the wedding and seen how hard I was working on this story, he would have never granted me such liberties, but he was offering, and I was going to take him up on it. "Thanks, Lenny."

I heard a woman's voice in the background. "Lenny, who's calling you this early?"

"Nobody, baby, it's work," Lenny said to the woman.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" I asked, not believing he had actually scored at Ginny's wedding.

"Don't worry, she's on the groom's side," Lenny said. "I'd never go after your own blood."

"That's good to know," I said, still shocked.

"Hey, Sharpe?"

"Yeah?"

"Nice work."

He hung up the phone and I turned to Mac and Manny. "You guys are awesome – seriously. Thank you for everything."

"Don't get me emotional, Sharpe," Manny said.

"Oh, stop, you'll see me next week when we get our next assignment." I turned to Mac. "Can you grab some shots of Miguel and Diego being led away in handcuffs? I'm gonna run to the office and drop off tonight's tapes to be digitized. If you can grab some sound bites from the cops about solving the case, that would be good too. I'm gonna head out before the traffic hits."

"Okay, Sharpe, we've got you covered," Mac said.

I collected the various tapes from Mac and headed towards the door. "Tell Reid and Foxy I'll talk to them later. Enjoy your day off tomorrow."

On my way out, I spotted Reid walking with Miguel. I gave him a wave and I motioned with my hand that I would call him. As I stepped outside, I realized that my car was still at the hotel in Santa Monica. "Damn it!" I cursed. It was late and I didn't want to ask Mac or Manny to drive me, so I called a cab.

As the cab cruised down the 405, I rolled down the window and felt the wind blowing through my hair. I was exhausted but exhilarated at the same time.

We pulled into the parking lot of the office. The lights were out and no one was there, but there was a drop slot in the front door for me to put my tapes in. I pulled out a notepad and gave the editor some notes on how he should assemble the episode. I listed key events and roughly the days and times that they occurred. Our tapes recorded with a time/date stamp on them, so it was easy to let editors know what footage to look for. I made some rough notes about the style I was going after, but I knew much of that would be hammered out when we sat together and worked on the piece. This was simply to get things off the ground.

I was about to place the videos and my notes in the slot when I felt a hand touch my wrist. I turned to see Missy staring at me. She had her hair in pigtails, and she wore Capri pants with a tank top that seemed to reveal every bone in her shoulders and upper rib cage. She had a smirk on her face as she stared at me.

"What are you doing here this early?" I asked her, pulling my wrist free from her skeletal grip.

"I just finished my edit. My show is all delivered," she announced.

I rolled my eyes. "Big deal. I heard you got some crappy gang-banger crime and everyone squealed."

"Hardly. I was up day and night with my crew trying to beat confessions out of these guys. I haven't slept in the past three days."

I was too tired to feign interest in her story. I hadn't slept in a week, and I would be damned if she was going to stand here and brag about how hard she worked on her story. "Missy, that's great. Now if you'll excuse me I'd like to go home. I haven't slept either." I dropped the tapes and notes in the slot and then turned to her. I couldn't resist taking a dig at her. "You probably heard that my episode will be the premiere, right?"

"I think Lenny needs his head examined," Missy scoffed. "Did your mommy call in a favor or something?"

I glared at her. "My story can blow the socks off your piece of crap any day. I'm sure being number two hurts, but you might as well get used to it."

Missy blew out a breath. "Please. Like I even care."

I stared at her, making her sweat. "Oh, you care. Believe me. Well, goodnight." I turned and walked towards my cab. I think I had picked up some bad cop techniques from Reid, and I was enjoying using them.

As I got in the cab, my heart was racing. I wasn't normally so cruel, but it was kind of fun, too. I ordered the cabbie to take me to the hotel in Santa Monica to get my car. On the way over, it occurred to me that I still had my hotel room key, and it was much closer than going all the way back to the Valley. I decided I would spend the night. I was still pumped up on adrenaline and thinking about how I would cut my show together as we drove. As we neared the exit, I tried to do some relaxation techniques to calm myself down. I needed to sleep, and I wouldn't be able to if my mind kept racing like it was. I walked into the room at 6:45 and had a flashback to the naughty deeds Reid and I had performed just a few hours before. I let the thoughts pass and threw the chain on the door before I dove into the bed and fell asleep.

### Chapter 16.

I managed to get just enough sleep to allow my brain to function marginally and spent the next two days living with my editor in the edit suite. Our first pass at the cut was filled with black and white images and edgy music, but we both decided it was coming off a little silly and staged. Our second pass took a real look at the cops and who they were as people. It told the story of Chaser, a misunderstood drag racer, who got in over his head and paid the ultimate price. It told the story of Rose, a woman who was trying to live the American dream but got caught up in all the greed and corruption that such dreams can often lead to. Finally it portrayed Kitt, a man who had an addiction to adrenaline that cost him everything. We were able to delve into the personalities of our characters and really solicit some raw emotion.

By the end of the day on Tuesday, my editor Rob and I were pretty happy with what we had put together. Rob was particularly happy because he was rolling in overtime pay, and I was happy because the production had a policy that if you worked past eight o'clock, they would pay for your dinner. It wasn't OT, but I was able to order Chinese from Chan's, and I feasted on the Chinese chicken salad that I loved so much. I slept at my parents' house that night and borrowed some of Ginny's clothes for the next morning. The Valley was just too far and too much hassle for me to deal with. I got to my parents' place at two in the morning, then turned around and headed back to the office at eight.

The next morning, we went through the first of a long series of notes. Lenny sat in and gave us a boatload of changes that had to be implemented right away. It was standard operating procedure, and I didn't take anything personally. Sometimes when you watch a cut over and over you miss things, or you think they make sense, but there are some crucial details that are left out. Lenny's role was to help me make my cut the best it could be, and I appreciated that.

After the morning notes were addressed, we had another screening in which Lenny brought in some of the other producers to take a look. Many of them loved the story and gave me some great ideas as to how to make it even better. Lenny let me know that the executives from the network would be coming over at eight that night to do a final viewing and that I needed everything ready for the upres by midnight. The video that we were working with had been loaded into the editing machine at a low resolution in order to allow more media to be stored on the hard drives. Once an edit was deemed final, the cut had to be brought back to high resolution to prepare it for air. This was a time-consuming process that the assistant editors handled. After that, the cut would be taken to an outside post house that specialized in creating the digital masters. They would do the color correction and adjust the sound mix. It was necessary that I attend the final mix to ensure that the video looked correct and that there was nothing in the shot like a brand name or logo or one of Rose's nipples that couldn't be seen during the low-resolution edit. It was an exhausting process, and I knew I would be up all night watching over my baby.

Rob and I took the suggestions that Lenny and the other producers made and were ready to screen by seven thirty. We both took the opportunity to grab some food and kick back for a few minutes before the executives arrived. Rob was a great editor, and I was grateful that I had him. He told me that a truly great editor almost never used the mouse on the computer – he relied solely on the keyboard. That was a skill he had perfected over the years, and he was lightning fast at it.

"Can we break out the beer yet?" Rob asked me drowsily.

"Not yet," I said. "First we have to see what the network thinks."

It was a thrill and an honor to own the first episode of the series, but it also could be very frustrating, as oftentimes the network didn't know how they wanted the show to look and feel until they saw a cut. There were far too many horror stories of networks completely revamping the format of a show just hours before air.

As the executives arrived, I braced myself for the criticism. There were two men in their fifties, one of whom had brought his wife for the female perspective. As we screened, the group was very quiet, and in the end, they had very little feedback.

"Do you have any shots of Detective Reid shirtless by chance? I think the audience would really respond to that," the wife said to me.

I smiled, enjoying the fact that she thought the man I was involved with was cute. "No, unfortunately, I don't. He was a little hard to break in, if you know what I mean."

"Well, you did a great job with him," she continued. "He was so cool when Rose was flirting with him during her interrogation and when he broke down that door to get the bad guys. Whoo," the woman said, fanning herself.

"Calm down, sweetie," the executive said to his wife. "This is great work. I am very happy with it."

Lenny walked the group out while Rob and I exchanged high fives. It was funny to hear that woman talking about Reid like he was a character in a movie, but then again, he really was. As closely as I had gotten to know him and all the participants on the show, when I worked an edit, I didn't look at them as friends or even people I knew. They were just characters helping me tell a story.

Lenny walked into the edit suite with a big grin on his face. "Nice work, you two. I think we've got a hit on our hands. The guys were already talking about season two out there."

"Really?" I asked. "Wow."

"Where's the beer, boss? We need to celebrate," Rob said.

"How long will it take you to make those few edits they gave you?" Lenny asked.

"Half hour."

"Okay, that gives me just enough time to pick some up."

I was so tired, and I knew I was going to be working the next ten hours straight, but I was also excited and thrilled. I felt like for once, I wasn't the screw-up whose mom got her the job – I was the producer who just pulled off her story.

I worked through the night moving from the edit suite in the office to the post house down the street for the final edit. We finished up at eleven in the morning, and I called for a production assistant to pick up the tapes and run them over to the network.

I was exhausted but had finished faster than I had anticipated. I debated going to sleep at my parents' house again, but I was yearning for my own bed. I knew I could be home by noon and could probably squeeze in a good seven hours before the show aired that night at eight.

Now, I knew that texting while driving was not only illegal, but very dangerous, but when you're crawling at three miles an hour on the freeway you can text pretty effectively with minimal risk. I texted Mac that the cut was delivered. He texted me back that he and the guys had planned for a screening party at Reid's house that night. He said to arrive at seven thirty and to bring beer. I hadn't seen or spoken to any of the guys since I left them at the station, and I missed them. As much as I needed sleep, I decided I would set my alarm for six so that I could wake up, shower, and look decent for everyone. Thus far, Reid had seen me in a combination of vomit-stained clothing and evening wear, and I wanted him to know that my everyday look could be pretty good too. I also wanted him to invite me to stay over after the party broke up. I didn't know where we stood and if we were going to start dating or what, but I knew I shouldn't overanalyze it either. I liked Reid, he liked me, and I was pretty happy about it – I wasn't about to spoil it.

*****

The sound of the alarm clock ringing in my ear at six o'clock was quite painful, but I was glad that I had allowed the extra time to drag myself out of bed, get showered and get ready. I shaved my legs and threw on some nice underwear, not knowing where the night might lead. I put on a pair of fitted dark jeans and a loose black tank top that was cut low in the chest and hung down to just above my knees. I threw on a silver and black necklace and some bangle earrings. I was the picture of someone going for a night out on the town in LA: not too dressy, not too casual, just right. I spent some extra time on my hair and makeup, and despite the bags under my eyes, I managed to look pretty darn good.

Mac had texted me Reid's address, so I popped it into my GPS. I stopped at the store on the way over and picked up some beer and chips. I was about five minutes away when I started thinking about Reid and what I would say when I saw him. I knew how I felt, but what if he was just caught in the moment the other night and had changed his mind about me? On the other hand, what if he was really serious about us and where this could lead? As I turned onto Reid's block, I was lost in my thoughts. My grip on the steering wheel loosened, and suddenly my car jerked to the right and careened onto Reid's front lawn. "Shit!" I blurted out as I slammed on the breaks. Luckily he didn't have a fence for me to break, and I stopped just short of his house. My car sat idling in the middle of his front lawn. In my daze, I had forgotten about the little alignment problem my car had.

The front door opened and Reid came running out. I popped my head out the window and looked up at him. "Reid, I am so sorry."

Reid had his arms folded, and he was shaking his head. I quickly threw the car into reverse, pulled off the lawn and onto the street, and parked. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was 7:45. I grabbed the beer and chips, then got out and inspected the damage to the lawn. "It's okay," I announced to Reid. "The lawn survived."

"Uh-huh," Reid said from the doorway, still shaking his head.

Reid's house, a ranch, was brown and white on the outside. I walked up to him in the doorway, and although he was trying to look stern, he had a big smile on his face as I approached.

"Hi," I said, glowing. "Sorry about that. My car has alignment issues."

"These things happen – to you at least," he grinned. "Come on in."

"Thanks." I stepped inside to see Mac and Manny spread out on the couch and Foxy and Sherry sharing a love seat together. There was a third couch with a beer bottle resting on it, and I figured that was where Reid had been sitting. Leave it to a man to over-furnish. The room had hardwood floors and a huge flat screen television, and it looked very much like the bachelor pad that it was.

"Hey, guys," I said to everyone.

"Sharpe!" Foxy called out.

"Let me show you around," Reid said.

"Oh, I brought this," I said and handed Reid the beer and chips.

"Thanks." He threw the bag of chips into Foxy's open hands and led me into the kitchen. Reid opened the fridge to keep the beer cool. I tried to get a glimpse inside as the door opened and saw that it was basically the same as mine – stocked with alcohol and not much else. The kitchen was really nice, with cherry cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. "I did all this myself," Reid said. "Saved a lot of money."

I ran my hand across the granite. "Very nice. You'll get along with my dad just fine – he's a designer and loves this kind of stuff."

Reid led me into a small dining area and then down the hall, where he had two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a small house, but I really liked it – it felt warm. "And this is my room," Reid said and led me into the master bedroom.

It wasn't much larger that the first bedroom, but it was decorated nicely, and Reid had managed to get a king-sized bed in there. "Was all this just a ploy to get me into your bedroom?" I asked.

Reid closed the door. "Maybe." He grinned, pressed my back against the wall, leaned in, and kissed me. I felt his tongue, hot and hungry. He moved his lips over to my neck and ran his tongue up just below my ear. My body started to tingle. I was glad to know his feelings hadn't changed, and judging by the bulge I was feeling against my leg, I knew we were going to pick up right where we left off.

I pushed him off, wanting to stop before things went too far. "Oh no," I said. "You're not gonna make me miss my show. Come on – it's almost eight."

Reid backed off and hung his head. "I don't want to see myself on TV, I'm gonna look stupid."

"You are not. As a matter of fact, one of the network executive's wives wanted to know if I had any footage of you shirtless to add in."

Reid turned white. "Did you?"

I shook my head no. "Come on, let's get back before people get the wrong idea," I joked.

"Right," Reid joked back. "I would hate it if they saw the intimate details of our sex life. Oh, wait, they already have."

We walked down the hall and back into the living room. Foxy looked at us and smiled. "Now, where did you two disappear to?"

I walked past Foxy and knocked off the baseball hat he was wearing in the process. I flopped on the empty couch and looked at the TV. The guys were watching football. "Are you people kidding? It's almost eight. Put on channel forty-six."

"Bossy, ain't ya?" Sherry said and picked up the remote.

Reid walked in the room carrying a beer for me. He picked his beer off the couch and plopped down next to me. He threw an arm around me and I leaned into him, taking a sip.

"Isn't this cozy?" Foxy said.

Reid pointed at Foxy with his beer bottle. "One more crack and you're cut off."

It was two minutes to eight and commercials were playing on the TV. I jumped up and stood in front of it, addressing the group. "Okay, guys, quick speech."

"Oh man!" Foxy said and threw some popcorn at me.

"Sharpe, you're blocking the screen," Manny chimed in.

I stood proud, ignoring their commentary. "I would just like to say that it has been a pleasure to work with all of you – even you, Sherry." That elicited a dirty look from her, but I pressed on. I looked at Foxy and then Reid. "After this show airs and you guys become famous, you may forget about us, but try to remember who got you here. The network executives were thrilled with the cut and they're already talking about season two."

"Really, Sharpe?" Mac asked.

"Yep. Maybe you can skip the debutante bridezillas and hang with us instead, Mac."

Mac moved his palms up and down as if weighing the options. I rolled my eyes and pressed on. "Anyway, I present to you all – _Murder Live_!" I dramatically moved my arms in front of the screen and jumped back to my seat on the couch next to Reid.

The credits rolled and everyone burst into applause. Sherry turned to Foxy and gave him a kiss. "Oh, honey, I am so proud of you."

The credits were a compilation of scenes from all of the episodes that had been shot. "Hey, there's AJ!" Reid said to Foxy, recognizing his friend on the screen.

Reid was featured in the credits breaking down the door to get into Miguel and Diego's hotel room. "Oh yeah!" Foxy cried out.

"Reid, you look sexy, man!"

Sherry gave me a knowing glance as if to confirm that Reid and Foxy were in fact gay lovers. The show began with Reid and Foxy talking to camera, telling their various stories. Reid buried his head in my neck. "I feel like such a tool," he said, hiding.

Foxy was on the screen talking about Sherry and I could tell she was just melting. "Oh, baby, you are so sweet." The next image was a picture of Sherry and Foxy at their wedding. I threw it in because I knew it would get Sherry on my good side, and it worked. "Oh my God, that's us!" Both Foxy and Sherry were beaming ear to ear.

We all watched the first act of the show making comments to the TV and enjoying. It depicted Chaser's death and the interviews with his mother, Rose, and so on. When the commercials started to play, everyone clapped again.

"Sharpe, it looks really good, man," Mac said to me.

"You shot it, Mac."

"Yeah, but I like how you cut it – it feels real."

I was on cloud nine. Next, my cell phone chirped. It was my father. I picked up and spoke into the phone. "Dad, I can't talk now, my show is on."

"I know, honey," my dad said. "I'm laughing, I'm crying. Your mother is, too – this is good stuff, kid."

"Thanks, Dad. I'll call you later," I said and hung up the phone.

The show came back on the air, and we watched the next few acts, which featured the stakeout in Mexico and Kitt's death. It was a lot of information to be packed into a sixty-minute show. The last act featured Rose's confession and busting Diego and Miguel. I had edited the fight scene in the motel room to look like Foxy had punched out Miguel rather than Mac.

I took a look over at Sherry, who was rubbing Foxy's leg vigorously. "Oh, baby, you looked so sexy punching that guy out."

Foxy gave me a look that said I'd better not dare tell her that it wasn't him. I nodded that I wouldn't. At the end of the show the murder was solved, and Reid and Foxy looked like heroes. As the credits came up and we each saw our names, we all cheered and applauded. It had been a wild ride, but everything was worth it for this moment.

I exchanged some high fives with the guys, then took another long pull on my beer. Mac stood up holding something behind his back. "And now I would like to play a little video of my own. Sharpe, I hope this won't be too embarrassing for you." He pulled out a video tape from behind his back and held it up to me.

I panicked, thinking about the video Mac took of me getting in the race car with Kitt and acting like a bimbo. I didn't want Reid to have to watch me flirting with him again. "Mac, no, come on, you promised that tape was private."

"Promises are meant to be broken," Mac said, smiling.

Reid looked irritated, and I was two steps away from jumping up and tackling Mac.

"This footage is courtesy of Evelyn Sharpe, everyone," Mac continued and popped in the tape.

Now I was confused – was it footage of me naked as a baby or something? The image came up and Reid and I both turned brick red as we watched ourselves making out hardcore on the dance floor at Ginny's wedding. Everyone busted out laughing, including me and Reid.

"Whoa, chica. Yeah, sexy!" Manny said excitedly.

In the background I could see my sister staring at us, wide eyed and shocked. "Oh no, look at Ginny!" I said to Reid. "She is so pissed!"

Reid pointed at the man standing next to Ginny and shaking his head. He whispered to me, "Look at my dad."

I choked on my beer. "Oh man!"

"I'll be sure to add this to the Sharpe highlight reel," Mac laughed.

Reid shook his head and turned to me. "Well, I guess we don't have to worry about hiding in my room when we want to make out." Then he planted a big kiss on me in front of everyone. I was still laughing, and by the end of it, so was Reid.

"To Murder Live!" Mac said raising his beer bottle.

"To Murder Live!" We all agreed and clinked bottles.

Reid put his arm around me and nuzzled my neck, and I knew that right here, right now was exactly where I wanted to be.

### ABOUT THE AUTHOR

At the age of 23, after graduating with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in film and television from New York University, Jenna Baker picked up from New York and drove west to Los Angeles. It was the same summer that a television series called Survivor was premiering. Jenna caught an episode of the show in a hotel room and was instantly hooked. She was so smitten that she moved her travel itinerary around to ensure that she would not miss a single episode.

When she arrived in Los Angeles, Jenna landed an assistant job for a company called Rocket Science Laboratories. They were producing another groundbreaking reality television show called Temptation Island. Jenna stayed with Rocket Science for several years, moving up from an executive assistant to an associate producer before moving on to other companies to further her career. Jenna worked on numerous reality shows, including Surprise Wedding I & II, Married By America, Paradise Hotel and two seasons of The Swan.

Working on reality shows was a blast, but it was extremely difficult for Jenna, as it meant completely giving up her own life in order to follow someone else's. The hours were brutal and the competition was fierce, but mostly it was the mantra "anything to get the shot" that ultimately forced Jenna to choose a different career path. What she took away from her reality television career was a wealth of hilarious stories about doing anything and everything to make the show work.

Jenna now lives on Long Island with her husband and two children, Austin and Avery. She currently works in pharmaceutical meeting planning, getting ideas for her next book.
