Of Nightmares and Pinkie-Swears, a CSI: Nick-Centric Fic
- Thread starter Jacqui
- Start date
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
nice work 
I vote for getting him together with Cath lol
I vote for getting him together with Cath lol
excellent update Jacqui
I think I have to agree with Nick there and calling his brother a 'bastard'. Boy be happy for the guy not take it out on him that you don't have any kids. I usually like the Judge but I didn't like him here. Again he's siding with Billy :scream: Nick there is nothing wrong with your job. If it weren't for your job the lawyers wouldn't have work.
Looks forward to your next chapter.
I think I have to agree with Nick there and calling his brother a 'bastard'. Boy be happy for the guy not take it out on him that you don't have any kids. I usually like the Judge but I didn't like him here. Again he's siding with Billy :scream: Nick there is nothing wrong with your job. If it weren't for your job the lawyers wouldn't have work.
Looks forward to your next chapter.
I don't like his brother much. He was completely out of line with that whole "are you gay" thing. No wonder Nick put off calling him. I didn't like his Dad in this chapter either. He still talks to him like he's a kid. :lol: I just wonder if Billy reacted to his other siblings that way when they had kids. :lol:
Good chapter.
Good chapter.
Speedystokesgirl
Judge
Great chapter again, Jacqui!
Ok, I so want to smack his brother. I mean come on, Nick's not even 40 yet and so what if he was. Being 40, not married and no kids has NOTHING to do with your sexual orientation. Not in this day and age.
I'm 40, not married, no kids, does that make me a lesbian, ummmm, No! Just smart, IMO.
Yeah, the Judge is treating Nick like a child and I think he always has and always will. I know that had a lot to do with Nick always needing validation. And so what if he doesn't work normal work hours, either do police, firefighters, nurses, doctors, are you going to critisize them for working the graveyard shift.
Alright, I think I'm done ranting now. :lol:
Nick, the next time you see your brother, just punch him. He's just jealous!!!!
Update soon!!!
Ok, I so want to smack his brother. I mean come on, Nick's not even 40 yet and so what if he was. Being 40, not married and no kids has NOTHING to do with your sexual orientation. Not in this day and age.
I'm 40, not married, no kids, does that make me a lesbian, ummmm, No! Just smart, IMO.
Yeah, the Judge is treating Nick like a child and I think he always has and always will. I know that had a lot to do with Nick always needing validation. And so what if he doesn't work normal work hours, either do police, firefighters, nurses, doctors, are you going to critisize them for working the graveyard shift.
Alright, I think I'm done ranting now. :lol:
Nick, the next time you see your brother, just punch him. He's just jealous!!!!
Update soon!!!
racefh853629
Pathologist
*kicks Nick's brother*
Much better.
Great update!!!
Much better.
Great update!!!
Jacqui
Police Officer
Thanks, as always, for your kind comments - I hope you enjoy the following....
Nick spent the better part of the next few weeks planning and executing his move. The house on Walnut Street was far bigger than he would need for himself and Cassie, but, as Audra had reminded him countless times, it was an investment.
Because the sellers had moved across the country and had been gone for five of the six months the house had been vacant, there was little standing in Nick’s way and he closed on the house three weeks after Audra’s visit. Greg and Warrick volunteered to help him move in the following day after their shift, and were treated to an introduction to Ginger that involved Warrick on his back with Greg laughing at him.
Nick helpfully held out a hand to Warrick as Elizabeth, running from her house, heeled her dog. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, ready for her morning walk, with her hair tied back in a neat ponytail. “Sorry about that,” she said in apology, snapping Ginger’s leash onto her collar. “She gets excited to go outside, and even more excited to meet new people.”
Warrick noted that it took considerable restraint on Elizabeth’s part to hold Ginger back. “Has she ever bitten anyone?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, she’s never bitten anyone. She’s a sweet girl . . . just big. Don’t worry, Brown – she’s felled bigger men than you.”
Warrick harrumphed in reply, heading back to Nick’s truck to move more boxes into the house. Greg, however, moved to make friends with Ginger and chat with Elizabeth. Nick observed his friend interacting with Elizabeth and paused to watch her. She struggled with Ginger, who had seen a reptile to chase, but respectfully kept eye contact with Greg. Because Greg hadn’t been a CSI for very long, he hadn’t worked with her too extensively – it could take years for a case they worked on to go to trial. She was probably glad for the opportunity to get to know him, because it meant she would know how to coach him better. This knowledge didn’t save Nick from the involuntary pang of jealousy he felt when Elizabeth laughed boisterously at a joke Greg made at Ecklie’s expense. He wanted that brilliant smile, those glee-filled eyes, turned toward him.
The back of Warrick’s hand slapping his upper arm tore his attention away from Elizabeth. “This is your crap, you know,” he said, still smarting from being knocked on his behind by a dog.
“Sorry,” replied Nick, and he moved toward the truck again.
They took a break while they waited for the movers to come. Nick, being a single guy, didn’t have too much to move, so it had been relatively inexpensive to hire movers for his furniture and not a lot of trouble to pack the rest of his things himself. The day after his conversations with his father and brother, he had gone shopping for Cassie’s bedroom furniture, and that would be delivered at some point during the morning as well.
Because he’d been relatively tight-lipped about it, news that he was adopting hadn’t made headlines in the lab. In the beginning, he’d told Warrick, but had asked him not to say anything because it was all still so new. Sara wasn’t the type to gossip and Greg had stayed quiet simply out of respect. Even though Grissom knew he visited Cassie, he didn’t know about his decision to adopt, but Nick knew that Grissom wouldn’t be insulted that he wasn’t the first one to know.
He felt the insult to Catherine that his silence toward her was, but he simply hadn’t had an appropriate opportunity. When he first talked about buying the house Catherine had been there, and asked why. “I just thought it was time,” he had replied, but Ecklie had been standing right behind her. As much as he had come to terms with the fact that Ecklie was just something he’d always have to deal with, he didn’t want him to know about something so precious yet. He’d find some way to spoil it. Nick had sought Catherine out on the handful of occasions that he had been in the lab at the same time she was, but they’d never connected.
He was thinking about Catherine when Cassie’s furniture arrived. He directed the deliverymen up the stairs and to the left, and asked them to leave it in the middle of the room because he’d have to paint it. When they left, Greg and Warrick joined him in the room.
“It’s cute stuff, Nick,” said Warrick, touching the cherry sleigh bed in the middle of the room.
“Yeah . . . but what do I do with the rest of the room?” he wondered out loud.
“Do I look like your interior decorator?” asked Warrick in reply. “I’m about ready to fall over. Take me home, Greg.”
The younger CSI agreed, saying, “You’re on your own on this one, Nick – I don’t know nothin’ about being frilly and pink. And before you ask I don’t paint, either, so you’re on your own there, too.”
Nick smiled at his friends. “You guys have done more than enough,” he said gratefully. He thanked them again for their help, promising them breakfast in return for their trouble as he showed them out.
Alone in his new house, he wandered a bit. Things were happening so fast, it seemed – it wasn’t much more than a month ago that Cassie had looked up into his eyes and said, “I think you and me would make a good team.” He hadn’t told Cassie that he had bought the house next to Elizabeth’s. He knew she liked Elizabeth and loved Ginger and wanted to surprise her with her new neighbors on the same day he delivered the news that she’d be able to come live with him. That news wouldn’t be much longer in coming – both he and Cassie had interviewed with Jaycie Miller from the Department of Family Services. She had looked unsettlingly familiar to Nick, and this bothered him a little. He was usually only reminded of the living people he met in new faces, and in his line of work “living people” meant either the distraught family members of victims or suspects. He didn’t like her much, but she seemed to want to move things along, and he couldn’t fault her for that.
He was startled when his cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans. He didn’t want to answer, but put the phone to his ear anyway. “Stokes.”
“Pancho, it’s your dad.”
Nick let out a breath. “Hey, Dad.”
Bill Stokes almost winced; it always hurt when Nick wouldn’t call him Cisco. “It’s moving day, huh?”
“Yeah,” replied Nick, secretly surprised that he knew. “I’m all moved in.”
“Audra sent some photos,” explained the judge. “It looks like a nice home for your little Cassie.”
Despite his lingering irritation with his father, Nick’s heart warmed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She’ll be comfortable here. It’s a good neighborhood.”
“Meet any of the neighbors yet?”
Again, Nick smiled. “Not officially,” he replied, thinking of Elizabeth. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”
“I’m sure it won’t be,” agreed Bill. “Listen, Pancho . . . about our last conversation . . . .” He let out a breath, but said nothing more.
Nick knew better than to expect an apology, but prompted his father. “Yeah?”
“I’m not sure what you wanted me to say.”
Aggravated, Nick sat down on his couch. “I told you what I wanted you to say.”
“He shouldn’t have taken his feelings out on you, Pancho.” The affection in his voice told Nick that this was not said begrudgingly. “It isn’t just Billy that wishes Billy had children. I know the girls have given me fourteen beautiful grandchildren, and I don’t have any doubt that sooner or later your Cassie will have me wrapped around her little finger . . . but you and Billy are my boys, and you have no boys of your own. I’m an old-fashioned man – you know that – and I just want my name to go on.”
There were many things Nick wished he had the courage to say in reply to his father – Is that Billy’s excuse, too? and How long did Mom coach you to say that? were among them. However, what came out of his mouth was, “I understand,” mostly because he did, despite the jealousy he’d always feel that Billy was closer to his father than he was.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say all this the last time we talked. You know I don’t like to have to explain myself,” said Bill.
“Yes, sir,” replied Nick, who didn’t like to have to explain himself either.
“Sometimes," continued Bill, "being a parent means you have to swallow your pride. Usually a man gets to start off small with a baby – admitting he doesn’t know how to fix a bottle or comfort the little guy – and work his way up. You’re gonna start off somewhere in the middle, Pancho . . . I’m not sure what that means for you, but I do know that you’re going to be a great dad.”
This little gesture of support was enough to soothe him, and he smiled. “Thanks, Cisco.”
Nick closed the conversation satisfied that even if Billy wasn’t going to be happy for him, there were countless others who were. He continued to wander his new house, and when his wanderings led him outside by the pool – which, despite Holly’s assurances that it had been freshly filled and chlorinated “a few months ago”, would need to be emptied and cleaned out – the early afternoon sun reminded him that he needed to get some rest. Since he didn’t sleep under the covers anymore, it didn’t bother him to slip his shoes off and climb on top of his sheetless bed fully-clothed, and close his eyes.
He was awoken by Elizabeth knocking on his door with a basket of fruit and a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift. He was pleased and touched, and though they couldn’t share any of the wine he cut an apple in half, and they toasted with it. She told him about his new neighbors, from the busybody elderly ladies to the self-important businessmen, and the handful of down-to-earth families who had children about Cassie’s age. Too soon, she excused herself to go home to tend to Ginger.
Preparing for work that evening proved to be a bit of a challenge, having to find everything from a bath towel to his socks, but he made it out the door in plenty of time to be, as usual, two hours early for his shift. He hadn’t bothered to try to find his coffee pot, so begged some Blue Hawaiian off of Greg and wished he cared more about how his coffee tasted so he could thank the former lab rat in the profuse manner he almost expected. All Nick really wanted was the caffeine.
The next morning he had to make a court appearance. He had never been so grateful that he kept a suit in his locker, because otherwise he’d have to go all the way home, which was now further away from the lab, to try to find one, and hope that it was pressed. As he was heading for the courthouse, David Martin called him.
“Stokes,” he said, expectation and excitement in his voice.
“Stokes, it’s David Martin,” said the voice on the other end, sounding tired. “Look, we need to talk – where are you?”
“Headed for the courthouse,” he replied. “I’m scheduled to testify this morning.”
“Oh, good,” said Martin. “That’s where I am – we can talk there.” There was a little café just outside of one of the courtrooms and they arranged to meet there.
Nick was all anticipation when he saw Martin approach. He was already planning to head to Blue Diamond that afternoon to ask Cassie what color she wanted her bedroom painted. The look on his attorney’s face, however, did not bode well for Nick.
“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush, Stokes. Your petition was denied.” David Martin looked a little irritated as he shook a handful of papers in front of Nick.
He took the papers, the words hitting him in the chest like a baseball bat. “What?”
“Denied,” repeated Martin. “They said no, in other words.”
“But why?” Nick felt heavy all of a sudden, and his stomach began to churn. “I’m a perfectly normal . . . honest . . . straightforward person. Why?”
“You were involved in the murder of a hooker in 2001. No social worker in her right mind is gonna give you a kid after that, and frankly, I’m seriously pissed off that you didn’t mention this when I asked you to disclose your personal legal issues. This makes me look bad, Stokes.”
Nick shook his head in denial. “I don’t have any personal legal issues and if you’re referring to Kristy Hopkins, I wasn’t involved in her murder. Besides, you said the background check was fine – ‘squeaky clean’ was what you said.”
“Yeah, well, background check or no background check, apparently they came across this elsewhere,” replied Martin. “They got a case file that says your fingerprints and DNA were all over her house and her body – even a touchy-feely social worker knows that means you screwed her. The case file also says that you were the initial and most obvious suspect until another was miraculously found. Did you have someone fix something for you, Stokes?”
Nick’s temper flared. “Hey – I resent that!” he snapped, struggling to keep his voice down. “Nobody fixed anything and I was not involved in Kristy’s murder. I was in her house before she died, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Look, they have it on file – you made it with a whore. You’re not gettin’ the kid.”
Angry, Nick stepped closer to the lawyer. “Don’t call her that. She’s dead; have some respect.”
“Fine – call girl, hooker, prostitute – whatever you like to call them. The result is the same; DFS said no.”
Beginning to look lost and feel panicked, Nick began to flounder a little. “But . . . we can file an appeal . . . I can appeal this, right?”
Martin shook his head. “Not with me. Do you know how this makes me look? I’m done with you, but even if I weren’t, you don’t have a prayer.”
He paused again and breathed as though he had been punched in the gut. “Look, you don’t understand . . . I love that little girl . . . . Cassie needs-”
“Cassie needs someone who doesn’t like hookers. You’re wasting my time.” With that, he briskly headed for the elevator.
Alone, he watched Martin disappear. Not knowing what to think or do for several long moments, he covered his face with his hand and was trying to imagine how in the world he could explain the decision to Cassie when he heard shoes clacking behind him.
“Hey, neighbor.”
He turned quickly to see the last face he wanted to see just then. He adjusted his features slightly and then greeted her. “Elizabeth . . . how are you?”
She looked him over a moment. “Better than you, apparently,” she replied. “Bad case?”
He didn’t know why, but he told her. “No . . . I, uh . . . my application for guardianship was turned down.”
She creased her brow. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “Why?”
“I . . .” Nick made circling gestures, searching for something to say. Elizabeth took the papers from his hand and held them up.
“May I?”
“I . . .” He floundered a moment more. “I really would prefer that you didn’t.”
Confused, she handed the papers back to him. “All right. Do you know what you’re going to do?”
He swallowed. “My lawyer said I really didn’t have a chance. He . . . dropped my case.”
“Oh.” This made Elizabeth instantly suspicious. She couldn’t think of a reason that an honest person like Nick would be denied voluntary guardianship by DFS, at minimum because it meant the state had one less child to support. “Do you need representation? I’d be happy to review the decision.”
Nick cleared his throat and finally met her eyes. “You uh . . . you probably don’t want to do that.” His face was grave and in his churning stomach he was starting to feel the deep regret and anger at himself which he thought he had buried long ago when he buried Kristy’s body.
She tilted her head. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, starting to feel real anger rise and knowing he needed to get out of the courthouse, “but I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Nodding, she patted his upper arm. “Okay . . . no sweat. Look, the offer’s open – I would be more than happy to help you out. I think you’d be a great dad – that kid’s lucky to have you for a friend.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not too sure about that right now, ma’am . . . but I appreciate the offer.”
“My door’s open, Stokes. I’ll see you around.” She continued down the corridor.
Nick proceeded to the exit. Once outside, he walked blindly toward the parking ramp and climbed into his truck.
I have to tell Cassie . . . somehow I’m supposed to tell her that I’ve been denied guardianship because I slept with a hooker who was unlucky enough to be murdered afterward.
He couldn’t just leave it at that. He couldn’t let her go – he meant what he had said to David Martin; he loved Cassie and all he wanted to do was bring her home and help her finally heal. She was safe and well cared-for with Emily Patterson, but he knew he could do so much more for her. He had to fight for that – he had to fight for Cassie. He was going to have to file an appeal.
He couldn’t do it alone and he couldn’t go back to his father to ask for another name. He thought of Elizabeth’s offer . . . it was probably his best option, but it meant that she would know one of his darkest secrets.
Then, he recalled his father’s words from his phone call the previous day: “Sometimes being a parent means you have to swallow your pride . . . you’re gonna start off somewhere in the middle, Pancho . . . I’m not sure what that means for you.”
“I do, Cisco,” Nick said softly to himself, sighing and exiting his truck. He re-entered the courthouse to look for Elizabeth.
__________________________
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Nick spent the better part of the next few weeks planning and executing his move. The house on Walnut Street was far bigger than he would need for himself and Cassie, but, as Audra had reminded him countless times, it was an investment.
Because the sellers had moved across the country and had been gone for five of the six months the house had been vacant, there was little standing in Nick’s way and he closed on the house three weeks after Audra’s visit. Greg and Warrick volunteered to help him move in the following day after their shift, and were treated to an introduction to Ginger that involved Warrick on his back with Greg laughing at him.
Nick helpfully held out a hand to Warrick as Elizabeth, running from her house, heeled her dog. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, ready for her morning walk, with her hair tied back in a neat ponytail. “Sorry about that,” she said in apology, snapping Ginger’s leash onto her collar. “She gets excited to go outside, and even more excited to meet new people.”
Warrick noted that it took considerable restraint on Elizabeth’s part to hold Ginger back. “Has she ever bitten anyone?”
Elizabeth laughed. “No, she’s never bitten anyone. She’s a sweet girl . . . just big. Don’t worry, Brown – she’s felled bigger men than you.”
Warrick harrumphed in reply, heading back to Nick’s truck to move more boxes into the house. Greg, however, moved to make friends with Ginger and chat with Elizabeth. Nick observed his friend interacting with Elizabeth and paused to watch her. She struggled with Ginger, who had seen a reptile to chase, but respectfully kept eye contact with Greg. Because Greg hadn’t been a CSI for very long, he hadn’t worked with her too extensively – it could take years for a case they worked on to go to trial. She was probably glad for the opportunity to get to know him, because it meant she would know how to coach him better. This knowledge didn’t save Nick from the involuntary pang of jealousy he felt when Elizabeth laughed boisterously at a joke Greg made at Ecklie’s expense. He wanted that brilliant smile, those glee-filled eyes, turned toward him.
The back of Warrick’s hand slapping his upper arm tore his attention away from Elizabeth. “This is your crap, you know,” he said, still smarting from being knocked on his behind by a dog.
“Sorry,” replied Nick, and he moved toward the truck again.
They took a break while they waited for the movers to come. Nick, being a single guy, didn’t have too much to move, so it had been relatively inexpensive to hire movers for his furniture and not a lot of trouble to pack the rest of his things himself. The day after his conversations with his father and brother, he had gone shopping for Cassie’s bedroom furniture, and that would be delivered at some point during the morning as well.
Because he’d been relatively tight-lipped about it, news that he was adopting hadn’t made headlines in the lab. In the beginning, he’d told Warrick, but had asked him not to say anything because it was all still so new. Sara wasn’t the type to gossip and Greg had stayed quiet simply out of respect. Even though Grissom knew he visited Cassie, he didn’t know about his decision to adopt, but Nick knew that Grissom wouldn’t be insulted that he wasn’t the first one to know.
He felt the insult to Catherine that his silence toward her was, but he simply hadn’t had an appropriate opportunity. When he first talked about buying the house Catherine had been there, and asked why. “I just thought it was time,” he had replied, but Ecklie had been standing right behind her. As much as he had come to terms with the fact that Ecklie was just something he’d always have to deal with, he didn’t want him to know about something so precious yet. He’d find some way to spoil it. Nick had sought Catherine out on the handful of occasions that he had been in the lab at the same time she was, but they’d never connected.
He was thinking about Catherine when Cassie’s furniture arrived. He directed the deliverymen up the stairs and to the left, and asked them to leave it in the middle of the room because he’d have to paint it. When they left, Greg and Warrick joined him in the room.
“It’s cute stuff, Nick,” said Warrick, touching the cherry sleigh bed in the middle of the room.
“Yeah . . . but what do I do with the rest of the room?” he wondered out loud.
“Do I look like your interior decorator?” asked Warrick in reply. “I’m about ready to fall over. Take me home, Greg.”
The younger CSI agreed, saying, “You’re on your own on this one, Nick – I don’t know nothin’ about being frilly and pink. And before you ask I don’t paint, either, so you’re on your own there, too.”
Nick smiled at his friends. “You guys have done more than enough,” he said gratefully. He thanked them again for their help, promising them breakfast in return for their trouble as he showed them out.
Alone in his new house, he wandered a bit. Things were happening so fast, it seemed – it wasn’t much more than a month ago that Cassie had looked up into his eyes and said, “I think you and me would make a good team.” He hadn’t told Cassie that he had bought the house next to Elizabeth’s. He knew she liked Elizabeth and loved Ginger and wanted to surprise her with her new neighbors on the same day he delivered the news that she’d be able to come live with him. That news wouldn’t be much longer in coming – both he and Cassie had interviewed with Jaycie Miller from the Department of Family Services. She had looked unsettlingly familiar to Nick, and this bothered him a little. He was usually only reminded of the living people he met in new faces, and in his line of work “living people” meant either the distraught family members of victims or suspects. He didn’t like her much, but she seemed to want to move things along, and he couldn’t fault her for that.
He was startled when his cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of the pocket of his jeans. He didn’t want to answer, but put the phone to his ear anyway. “Stokes.”
“Pancho, it’s your dad.”
Nick let out a breath. “Hey, Dad.”
Bill Stokes almost winced; it always hurt when Nick wouldn’t call him Cisco. “It’s moving day, huh?”
“Yeah,” replied Nick, secretly surprised that he knew. “I’m all moved in.”
“Audra sent some photos,” explained the judge. “It looks like a nice home for your little Cassie.”
Despite his lingering irritation with his father, Nick’s heart warmed. “Yeah,” he agreed. “She’ll be comfortable here. It’s a good neighborhood.”
“Meet any of the neighbors yet?”
Again, Nick smiled. “Not officially,” he replied, thinking of Elizabeth. “I’m sure it won’t be long.”
“I’m sure it won’t be,” agreed Bill. “Listen, Pancho . . . about our last conversation . . . .” He let out a breath, but said nothing more.
Nick knew better than to expect an apology, but prompted his father. “Yeah?”
“I’m not sure what you wanted me to say.”
Aggravated, Nick sat down on his couch. “I told you what I wanted you to say.”
“He shouldn’t have taken his feelings out on you, Pancho.” The affection in his voice told Nick that this was not said begrudgingly. “It isn’t just Billy that wishes Billy had children. I know the girls have given me fourteen beautiful grandchildren, and I don’t have any doubt that sooner or later your Cassie will have me wrapped around her little finger . . . but you and Billy are my boys, and you have no boys of your own. I’m an old-fashioned man – you know that – and I just want my name to go on.”
There were many things Nick wished he had the courage to say in reply to his father – Is that Billy’s excuse, too? and How long did Mom coach you to say that? were among them. However, what came out of his mouth was, “I understand,” mostly because he did, despite the jealousy he’d always feel that Billy was closer to his father than he was.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say all this the last time we talked. You know I don’t like to have to explain myself,” said Bill.
“Yes, sir,” replied Nick, who didn’t like to have to explain himself either.
“Sometimes," continued Bill, "being a parent means you have to swallow your pride. Usually a man gets to start off small with a baby – admitting he doesn’t know how to fix a bottle or comfort the little guy – and work his way up. You’re gonna start off somewhere in the middle, Pancho . . . I’m not sure what that means for you, but I do know that you’re going to be a great dad.”
This little gesture of support was enough to soothe him, and he smiled. “Thanks, Cisco.”
Nick closed the conversation satisfied that even if Billy wasn’t going to be happy for him, there were countless others who were. He continued to wander his new house, and when his wanderings led him outside by the pool – which, despite Holly’s assurances that it had been freshly filled and chlorinated “a few months ago”, would need to be emptied and cleaned out – the early afternoon sun reminded him that he needed to get some rest. Since he didn’t sleep under the covers anymore, it didn’t bother him to slip his shoes off and climb on top of his sheetless bed fully-clothed, and close his eyes.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
He was awoken by Elizabeth knocking on his door with a basket of fruit and a bottle of wine as a housewarming gift. He was pleased and touched, and though they couldn’t share any of the wine he cut an apple in half, and they toasted with it. She told him about his new neighbors, from the busybody elderly ladies to the self-important businessmen, and the handful of down-to-earth families who had children about Cassie’s age. Too soon, she excused herself to go home to tend to Ginger.
Preparing for work that evening proved to be a bit of a challenge, having to find everything from a bath towel to his socks, but he made it out the door in plenty of time to be, as usual, two hours early for his shift. He hadn’t bothered to try to find his coffee pot, so begged some Blue Hawaiian off of Greg and wished he cared more about how his coffee tasted so he could thank the former lab rat in the profuse manner he almost expected. All Nick really wanted was the caffeine.
The next morning he had to make a court appearance. He had never been so grateful that he kept a suit in his locker, because otherwise he’d have to go all the way home, which was now further away from the lab, to try to find one, and hope that it was pressed. As he was heading for the courthouse, David Martin called him.
“Stokes,” he said, expectation and excitement in his voice.
“Stokes, it’s David Martin,” said the voice on the other end, sounding tired. “Look, we need to talk – where are you?”
“Headed for the courthouse,” he replied. “I’m scheduled to testify this morning.”
“Oh, good,” said Martin. “That’s where I am – we can talk there.” There was a little café just outside of one of the courtrooms and they arranged to meet there.
Nick was all anticipation when he saw Martin approach. He was already planning to head to Blue Diamond that afternoon to ask Cassie what color she wanted her bedroom painted. The look on his attorney’s face, however, did not bode well for Nick.
“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush, Stokes. Your petition was denied.” David Martin looked a little irritated as he shook a handful of papers in front of Nick.
He took the papers, the words hitting him in the chest like a baseball bat. “What?”
“Denied,” repeated Martin. “They said no, in other words.”
“But why?” Nick felt heavy all of a sudden, and his stomach began to churn. “I’m a perfectly normal . . . honest . . . straightforward person. Why?”
“You were involved in the murder of a hooker in 2001. No social worker in her right mind is gonna give you a kid after that, and frankly, I’m seriously pissed off that you didn’t mention this when I asked you to disclose your personal legal issues. This makes me look bad, Stokes.”
Nick shook his head in denial. “I don’t have any personal legal issues and if you’re referring to Kristy Hopkins, I wasn’t involved in her murder. Besides, you said the background check was fine – ‘squeaky clean’ was what you said.”
“Yeah, well, background check or no background check, apparently they came across this elsewhere,” replied Martin. “They got a case file that says your fingerprints and DNA were all over her house and her body – even a touchy-feely social worker knows that means you screwed her. The case file also says that you were the initial and most obvious suspect until another was miraculously found. Did you have someone fix something for you, Stokes?”
Nick’s temper flared. “Hey – I resent that!” he snapped, struggling to keep his voice down. “Nobody fixed anything and I was not involved in Kristy’s murder. I was in her house before she died, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Look, they have it on file – you made it with a whore. You’re not gettin’ the kid.”
Angry, Nick stepped closer to the lawyer. “Don’t call her that. She’s dead; have some respect.”
“Fine – call girl, hooker, prostitute – whatever you like to call them. The result is the same; DFS said no.”
Beginning to look lost and feel panicked, Nick began to flounder a little. “But . . . we can file an appeal . . . I can appeal this, right?”
Martin shook his head. “Not with me. Do you know how this makes me look? I’m done with you, but even if I weren’t, you don’t have a prayer.”
He paused again and breathed as though he had been punched in the gut. “Look, you don’t understand . . . I love that little girl . . . . Cassie needs-”
“Cassie needs someone who doesn’t like hookers. You’re wasting my time.” With that, he briskly headed for the elevator.
Alone, he watched Martin disappear. Not knowing what to think or do for several long moments, he covered his face with his hand and was trying to imagine how in the world he could explain the decision to Cassie when he heard shoes clacking behind him.
“Hey, neighbor.”
He turned quickly to see the last face he wanted to see just then. He adjusted his features slightly and then greeted her. “Elizabeth . . . how are you?”
She looked him over a moment. “Better than you, apparently,” she replied. “Bad case?”
He didn’t know why, but he told her. “No . . . I, uh . . . my application for guardianship was turned down.”
She creased her brow. “I’m sorry,” she replied. “Why?”
“I . . .” Nick made circling gestures, searching for something to say. Elizabeth took the papers from his hand and held them up.
“May I?”
“I . . .” He floundered a moment more. “I really would prefer that you didn’t.”
Confused, she handed the papers back to him. “All right. Do you know what you’re going to do?”
He swallowed. “My lawyer said I really didn’t have a chance. He . . . dropped my case.”
“Oh.” This made Elizabeth instantly suspicious. She couldn’t think of a reason that an honest person like Nick would be denied voluntary guardianship by DFS, at minimum because it meant the state had one less child to support. “Do you need representation? I’d be happy to review the decision.”
Nick cleared his throat and finally met her eyes. “You uh . . . you probably don’t want to do that.” His face was grave and in his churning stomach he was starting to feel the deep regret and anger at himself which he thought he had buried long ago when he buried Kristy’s body.
She tilted her head. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, starting to feel real anger rise and knowing he needed to get out of the courthouse, “but I really don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Nodding, she patted his upper arm. “Okay . . . no sweat. Look, the offer’s open – I would be more than happy to help you out. I think you’d be a great dad – that kid’s lucky to have you for a friend.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not too sure about that right now, ma’am . . . but I appreciate the offer.”
“My door’s open, Stokes. I’ll see you around.” She continued down the corridor.
Nick proceeded to the exit. Once outside, he walked blindly toward the parking ramp and climbed into his truck.
I have to tell Cassie . . . somehow I’m supposed to tell her that I’ve been denied guardianship because I slept with a hooker who was unlucky enough to be murdered afterward.
He couldn’t just leave it at that. He couldn’t let her go – he meant what he had said to David Martin; he loved Cassie and all he wanted to do was bring her home and help her finally heal. She was safe and well cared-for with Emily Patterson, but he knew he could do so much more for her. He had to fight for that – he had to fight for Cassie. He was going to have to file an appeal.
He couldn’t do it alone and he couldn’t go back to his father to ask for another name. He thought of Elizabeth’s offer . . . it was probably his best option, but it meant that she would know one of his darkest secrets.
Then, he recalled his father’s words from his phone call the previous day: “Sometimes being a parent means you have to swallow your pride . . . you’re gonna start off somewhere in the middle, Pancho . . . I’m not sure what that means for you.”
“I do, Cisco,” Nick said softly to himself, sighing and exiting his truck. He re-entered the courthouse to look for Elizabeth.
__________________________
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
Poor Nicky. Hopefully Elizabeth can help him out.
Loved Warrick getting knocked down by the dog and Greg laughing at him. :lol:
Loved Warrick getting knocked down by the dog and Greg laughing at him. :lol:
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
aww why make it harder? How come you didn't just let it go through?
Because she wants to drive us crazy!! :lol:
I had a feeling this wasn't going to be smooth sailing, and it worried me a bit that he'd already told Cassie.
But it will turn out okay. Right? Right??That was a great line.
Oh Jacqui how could you do this to poor Nick. He makes one mistake in his career and he's labeled a bad guy. What I find interesting is who spilled the beans about Nick to DFS. Who has a grudge against him. Oh I do hope Elizabeth can help him.
The talk that Nick had with his dad was very comforting and reassuring.
Please update soon. In the meantime I'll just go over to Nick's new house and comfort him
The talk that Nick had with his dad was very comforting and reassuring.
Please update soon. In the meantime I'll just go over to Nick's new house and comfort him
Speedystokesgirl
Judge
Oh, I knew this wasn't going to be easy. It's a shame that past mistakes come back to haunt you. Especially when all it was, was a mistake.
Now I have a friend who has adopted two children from Russia and she had to have personal references. Those personal references would've shown that Nick doesn't like hookers.
Didn't the social worker interview his boss, his co-workers. Oh poor Nicky.
Ok, I know it's turn out ok. I hope Elizabeth can help him. Hmmm, maybe in the end his brother will help him and he'll get Cassie.
Warrick and the dog :guffaw:
Hurry up and update soon! And oh, when this all works out, he'll need to get Catherine and Cassie to help him with Cassie's room.
Now I have a friend who has adopted two children from Russia and she had to have personal references. Those personal references would've shown that Nick doesn't like hookers.
Didn't the social worker interview his boss, his co-workers. Oh poor Nicky.
Ok, I know it's turn out ok. I hope Elizabeth can help him. Hmmm, maybe in the end his brother will help him and he'll get Cassie.
Warrick and the dog :guffaw:
Hurry up and update soon! And oh, when this all works out, he'll need to get Catherine and Cassie to help him with Cassie's room.
Jacqui
Police Officer
As always, thanks for your comments. Not to worry - things will turn out right in the end, but if it were all sunshine and lollipops, your teeth would rot!
Now, for an update (which, you're warned, does not contain much sunshine). Enjoy!
Elizabeth removed her glasses, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap thoughtfully. If Nick’s abbreviated narrative had swayed her at all, she didn’t show it. She cleared her throat and then looked up at Nick.
“You’re going to have to tell me more about Kristy Hopkins.”
“Kristy was my friend,” he replied, tilting his chin up in defiance. “What happened between us was private; I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I know you would, Stokes,” she replied quietly, “but I need to know what you need defense against. If you were never charged in her murder, there should’ve been nothing for Jaycie Miller to find in a background check.”
“Hey – I didn’t do anything wrong,” he yelled at her, and there was the mean, angry look again. “I just told you everything you need to know; the rest is between me and a dead woman and that’s where it’s going to stay.”
“What you told me doesn't help,” said Elizabeth gently. She knew he must be tired and she knew he was upset, but she needed to know – for the sake of his case, certainly, but also for herself. All she knew at that moment was that Nick had admitted to having a personal relationship with a woman in whose murder he had been a suspect. She knew there was more – she knew there had to be – but if Nick didn’t tell her what it was, she didn’t know how she’d find out.
Nick’s cell phone rang then, and he chose to answer it instead of responding to Elizabeth. He spoke with Grissom for a moment with his back to the DA. When he hung up, he replaced the phone on his belt and looked over his shoulder. “Look it up if you want to know,” he said, his voice weak and tired and disgusted. “It’s none of their business; it’s none of your business.” He turned to face her. “I have to go . . . Grissom needs me.”
Elizabeth sighed once he shut her door. What she hadn’t been able to work out was why the background check hadn’t turned up anything, and yet Jaycie Miller had written a letter of rejection. Nick was not being particularly forthcoming, either, which meant she’d have to do some independent research. A review of what she could find in the municipal system on Kristy Hopkins’ murder didn’t give her much more than what Nick had already told her. She decided to wait until that evening and knock on his door – maybe at home, he’d be more comfortable and give her the missing piece of the puzzle.
Once she was home, she hurriedly fed Ginger and played with her a little in the back yard before knocking on Nick’s door. When he answered it, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She admired him for a moment, standing there barefoot with tousled hair, shirtless, wearing plaid flannel pajama pants.
“Hey, Stokes.”
He allowed his eyes to adjust to the setting sun. “Hey. Why don’t you come in?”
His tone was surprisingly gentle; she smiled at him a little as he stepped aside to allow her through the door. Once she was through, he closed it behind her. “C’mon,” he said, using a swooping motion to welcome her further into the house. He led her down the hall and into the kitchen, where he had found the box his coffee maker had been packed in. He pulled it out and began to make a pot of coffee.
“I hope I didn’t wake you too soon,” she said, trying not to watch him too closely.
He shook his head, filling the water tank on the machine. “No. I wanted to drive out to Blue Diamond . . . just for a couple of minutes, if Emily will let me talk to Cassie. I tried calling earlier, but . . . I guess she was doing chores.” He turned the coffee maker on and then turned to her – still shirtless and apparently oblivious of her discomfort – and leaned against the counter. “So . . . I assume you read the file.”
She nodded. “I looked through what I could get my hands on, which was the transcript of Jack Willman’s trial. Unfortunately, it didn’t help me any. You didn’t testify and your name wasn’t mentioned. I need you to tell me what happened.”
He was quiet a moment; Elizabeth could tell he was trying not to show how angry he was at the fact that he needed defense. “If I do,” he replied, his expression like stone and his jaw set, “do I have a chance?”
“Yes, you have a chance,” she assured him. “You have a more than a chance . . . you just need someone who isn’t afraid to defend you.”
He met her gaze, which was fixed firmly on his face. “Is that going to be you?”
She nodded. “If you want it to be.”
He smiled a little. “Yeah, I do.”
Elizabeth willed herself to stop blushing. “I meant what I said earlier today. Cassie is lucky to have a friend like you, and I think you’d be a great dad. I’m going to help you get your chance.”
He nodded his thanks. “I need to get out to see Cassie before her bedtime . . . so we should talk about this, but I can’t right now. I need to get going.”
“Okay,” she replied quietly to the still-shirtless Nick. “Um . . . tomorrow is Saturday . . . I’ll be home when you’re done with work. You can just pop on over.”
“Sure,” he agreed with a nod. “Sure.” He gestured to the coffee pot. “You want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be up all night.”
Then he smiled a genuine and warm smile, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s the goal.”
“For you,” she conceded. Then, to avoid open admiration of his tousled hair and strong chin, she looked around his kitchen. “So . . . I take it you haven’t had the chance to talk to Cassie yet?”
He shook his head, his smile melting. “No. I want to get out there tonight and let her know before someone else does.”
“Do you think it’s wise to tell her about this? We might be talking about a delay of only three weeks or a month.”
He nodded. “I promised her I’d tell her what happened – I promised her I’d always be honest with her. Just because this is uncomfortable for me doesn’t mean I can break my promise.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks turned pink as her opinion of Nick Stokes rose even higher. “How do you think she’ll take it?” she asked quietly.
“Not well,” he said, pulling a coffee cup out of a box. “She’s lost so much faith in people . . . I don’t know how I’m going to tell her. I don’t want her to lose faith in me.”
Elizabeth turned to look at him again as he poured his coffee. “Don’t give her the option,” she advised in a gentle voice. “Make sure she knows you’re going to fight for her.”
As he took his first cautious sip of coffee, he looked into her eyes. “Who was it, Elizabeth?”
Caught off guard more than a little, she stuttered a little as she asked, “Who was what?”
“Who was it that didn’t fight for you?”
She swallowed. “No one fought for me, Stokes.”
“No one at all?”
She shook her head. “Not since I was five.” She was far beyond tears at this point, but there were still very few people who knew about what had happened to her as a child. She looked away, and then back to him. “Your case . . . this whole thing is a little closer to my heart than you realize. Cassie’s story and mine aren’t all that different.” She watched him crease his brow as he put the coffee cup down on the counter. She didn’t know why she had mentioned it, except perhaps as a device to assure Nick of her interest in Cassie’s future. “Although,” she continued, clearing her throat, “that’s really not the point. The point is . . . kids don’t want to be babied. They want to be trusted and they want to know the truth. If you respect Cassie at least that much, she’ll be okay. She doesn’t need gory details, she just needs to know that you’re not giving up.”
“I love Cassie,” he whispered frankly. “I’m not giving up.”
“Good.” For a split second, she let her eyes wander to his nicely-formed, still-shirtless biceps. Then, as though someone had splashed cold water on her face, she shook her head and met his eyes again. “I’ll . . . I’ll let you . . . you know . . . get ready for work. I’ll go home now.”
“Okay,” he replied, taking a last sip of his coffee. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow morning.”
Slightly irked that he had had the gall to just stand there, without a shirt on, and speak unaffectedly with her about so serious a subject, Elizabeth went home to a cold shower and a cold bed. For his part, as Nick started his own shower, he passively thought that it probably would have been a good idea to put on a shirt.
From the grim look on Nick’s face, Emily knew it was going to be a bad night for Cassie, but she retrieved her anyway. She shooed the other children out of the little living room as she shooed Cassie in, closing the door behind her.
It took him a moment to meet Cassie’s eyes, but when he did, he smiled despite himself. “How you doin’, Cass?”
“I’m okay,” she replied. “What’s wrong, Nick?”
“Remember I promised to be honest with you, and I promised I’d tell you about what happens in the adoption process?”
“Yeah?”
He sat down in an armchair and patted his leg. “I have some bad news.”
She swallowed and then sat on his lap. “They’re not going to let you adopt me.”
Nick stopped himself before he shook his head. “Not right now.” Clearing his throat, he proceeded to issue the reason he had rehearsed in his head. “I think Mrs. Miller was told something about me that isn’t quite true. Do you remember, when we first talked about this, I said that people who want to adopt kids can’t be in any trouble with the law?”
“Yeah.” Her face then took on a concerned look, and she tilted her head. “Did you do something bad?”
“No,” he replied quickly, panicking slightly. “No, I didn’t, Cass . . . I promise.” He cleared his throat again, and began. “A couple of years ago, I . . . I had a girlfriend. Her name was Kristy. One night, she got into a fight with a man she knew named Jack. I happened to see them, and I broke it up and told Jack to go home . . . and he got mad at me, but he left. Then I drove her home, and I stayed at her house for a little while, and when it got late, I went home. After I left, Jack came into her house . . . and they had a fight. . . .” Nick paused to draw a breath and clear his throat again. “And . . . he killed her.”
“Why?” Cassie’s voice was a whisper. It made his eyes fill again.
“I’ve been asking myself that for a long time, honey,” he replied honestly. “He was mean, and he was mad at her,” and at me, he thought, but left out. “Beyond that, I really don’t know. I wish I did.”
“So you can’t adopt me because your girlfriend died?” she asked. “That’s really stupid.”
“No . . . that’s not why. When the police came, they found my fingerprints in the house. You remember what I taught you about fingerprints?”
She nodded. “Did they think you hurt Kristy?”
His voice was thick when he replied, “Yeah, they did. And even though the people that I work with could prove that I didn’t . . . that Jack was the one who hurt Kristy . . . the only thing that Mrs. Miller was told was that I had been the primary suspect in a murder.”
“So she thinks you’re a bad person.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, she does.” He was surprised when a tear began to roll down his cheek; he swiped it away, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”
She sighed. “It’s not fair,” she complained quietly.
“No,” he agreed, another tear falling. “It’s not. None of this is fair.”
“You can still visit me, can’t you?” she asked, her eyes big and fearful. “Susan’s dad is a bad person; they said he couldn’t visit her anymore. They’re still going to let you visit me, aren’t they?”
“I’m still going to visit you, Cass,” he replied, swallowing a sob. Then he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
She squeezed back. “Don’t cry, Nicky.”
Jesus, Cassie, he thought, petting her hair, you’re not supposed to be comforting me. He pulled back a little, meeting her eyes. “All this doesn’t mean that this is where this ends. I’m not going to let anyone think that about me,” he told her, his voice firm. “I’m going to file an appeal. Do you know what that means?”
“Is it like a protest?” she asked.
“It is,” said Nick. “I’m not sure what I’ll have to do yet, but we’ll figure it out. We might have to talk to a judge, or maybe a different social worker. They might want to talk to Miss Emily, too.”
“Will it take a long time?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, shaking his head. “Is everything going all right here with Miss Emily?”
She shrugged. “It’s going okay. I mean, people say Miss Emily’s mean, but she’s not mean to me. She’s always crabby, but that’s only because people are always yelling at her. People yell all the time here . . . and Susan’s stupid. I wish you didn’t tell me I should be her friend.”
Nick kissed the side of her head. “Everyone needs a friend, Cassie Jane.”
She smiled a little. “That’s something my mom would say.”
“Yeah?” Cassie nodded. “She sounds like a smart lady. You miss her, don’t you?”
She nodded again in reply. “I miss my dad and Jeremy too.”
Stifling his personal opinions of her family, he replied, “I’ll tell you what – on my next day off I’ll come pick you up and we can drive up to Pioche. We can bring your family some flowers and check in on Sheriff and Mrs. Brackett. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds good,” she replied, and then yawned. “I’m supposed to be in bed in a few minutes,” she reported. “When is your next day off?”
“It’s on Thursday,” he replied. “I’ll have to ask Miss Emily if she’s okay with me taking you so far away.”
“Okay. Can we visit Elizabeth soon?”
“As soon as she can make some time for us, Cass.” He kissed her head again. “You go on to bed now.”
She hopped off his lap and wished him a good night, leaving the little living room. As he expected, Emily entered as soon as Cassie was upstairs.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Nick looked up at her, confused. “For what?”
“For not lying to her.” She turned around and was halfway down the hall before Nick was able to catch her.
Her face, as ever, was stony and tired as her gray eyes met his. He cleared his throat before asking, “You . . . you’re okay with me still coming to see her?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “You . . . you heard . . . everything?”
“Yeah.” She paused a moment to let it sink in, and then said, “Look, Stokes . . . I don’t think you’re capable of squishing an ant under your shoe; of course I’m okay with you still coming to see her. And you can take her as far away as you want – you just bring her back in time for supper.”
He smiled a little. “And call you every hour.”
“On the hour. I got kids to get in bed – go home.”
He went on to work, avoiding Grissom so he could make it through his shift without being handed a new assignment. To avoid thinking about what had happened he threw himself into the paperwork he needed to get caught up on, but found he couldn’t focus on it. After what he was sure was a full shift, he looked at his watch to discover that it was only three AM, and he had at least four hours left to go. His head thunked down on the desk as Warrick walked in.
“Hey, Nick.”
“What’s up, Warrick?”
“Oh . . . not much.” He sipped his coffee as he watched Nick rub his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He moved his hands to the back of his neck and tilted his face upward. “I’ve been staring at paper all night . . . you know how that goes.”
“Yeah, I do,” conceded Warrick. He passed before he continued. Pulling up a chair, turning it backward and then straddling it, he began in a low, melodic tone. “Listen, Nicky . . . can we talk?”
Nick straightened and looked at Warrick. “Sure . . . I guess. Something wrong?”
“You tell me,” he challenged his friend. “I don’t want to pry-”
“Then don’t.”
Warrick returned a withering look, and pressed on. “Nick, we closed this case three weeks ago.”
Nick looked down at the pile of paper on the table, confused. “Oh.”
“You’ve been so happy lately, man, and today you storm in here, you’re lookin’ at old cases, and you’ve completely ignored Grissom all night. What’s goin’ on?”
Not knowing how to react, he stared at Warrick. He cleared his throat. “You know I don’t like it when people pry into my personal business.”
He nodded, concern in his green eyes. “Yeah, I do. I’m not asking you to spill your guts, Nick.”
“Then what do you want, Warrick?”
“I just want to know if you’re all right.”
He stared at Warrick a moment longer. “Y’know what, Rick? I’m not all right. I’ve been accused of murder, I’ve been stalked, thrown out a window, had a gun in my face I don’t know how many times – Jesus, I was buried in a Plexiglas box and eaten alive by fire ants – and you know what I have nightmares about?”
Deep concern etching his face, Warrick shook his head.
“A little girl. When I close my eyes in the morning I don’t get to sleep, ‘cuz I know she’s not happy . . . I know she’s learning about injustice and unfairness . . . I know she knows about pain and loss and fear and I know that no one is there to make it okay.”
“You’re talking about Cassie.”
Looking away, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“I thought you were doing something about that.” Coolly, he sipped his coffee again and watched his friend through half-open eyes.
Nick swallowed and cautiously met his friend’s eyes. “My petition was denied because someone at the Department of Family Services thinks I was somehow involved in Kristy Hopkins’ murder. I had to tell Cassie, and I had to tell her why.”
Warrick looked devastated for him. “I’m sorry, Nicky,” he replied. Some silence passed between them before he asked, “You gonna appeal?”
Nick chuckled humorlessly. “I don’t have a choice if I want her.”
“If there’s anything I can do . . .”
Nick nodded, looking at the case file. “Yeah . . . I know.” Then he laughed. “I’ve been staring at this damn file all night long for nothing – that’s just great.”
Warrick rose from his chair and righted it at the table. “Why don’t you give me a hand – I could use some help in the evidence room.”
Nick looked around, and seeing nothing else of value to do, he agreed and followed Warrick. Once his shift was over, he avoided the locker room until he was fairly sure everyone had already left.
Sara, however, had been waiting for him. She felt his tension when she approached. “Havin’ a bad day, Nick?”
“You could say that,” he replied.
“You wanna share?”
“Not really. I’ve shared way too much today.” He rose to close his locker and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “The worst part of it is . . . I’m going to have to share some more tomorrow.” He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes a little. “It’s just a little setback with Cassie.”
Sara tilted her head. “She okay?”
“Yeah, she’s all right,” he assured her quickly. “Just . . . the whole process . . . a little setback with that.”
She nodded her head. “You know, no one’s called or sent me anything in the mail for a reference. If I remember right from some past cases, that’s usually the first thing they do.”
Nick creased his brow. “Really? I wonder why?”
Sara shook her head. “You should probably ask your lawyer about that.”
He smiled a little. “I’ll be getting a new one in the morning . . . I’ll be sure to.” When he looked back at Sara, he smiled. “Don’t worry, Sar,” he said. “I know where to find you.”
She nodded in acknowledgement. “I know. Just make sure you do if you need me.”
“I will,” he replied gently, patting her upper arm. “Have a good day.”
________________________
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
for your comments. Not to worry - things will turn out right in the end, but if it were all sunshine and lollipops, your teeth would rot!Now, for an update (which, you're warned, does not contain much sunshine). Enjoy!
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Elizabeth removed her glasses, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap thoughtfully. If Nick’s abbreviated narrative had swayed her at all, she didn’t show it. She cleared her throat and then looked up at Nick.
“You’re going to have to tell me more about Kristy Hopkins.”
“Kristy was my friend,” he replied, tilting his chin up in defiance. “What happened between us was private; I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I know you would, Stokes,” she replied quietly, “but I need to know what you need defense against. If you were never charged in her murder, there should’ve been nothing for Jaycie Miller to find in a background check.”
“Hey – I didn’t do anything wrong,” he yelled at her, and there was the mean, angry look again. “I just told you everything you need to know; the rest is between me and a dead woman and that’s where it’s going to stay.”
“What you told me doesn't help,” said Elizabeth gently. She knew he must be tired and she knew he was upset, but she needed to know – for the sake of his case, certainly, but also for herself. All she knew at that moment was that Nick had admitted to having a personal relationship with a woman in whose murder he had been a suspect. She knew there was more – she knew there had to be – but if Nick didn’t tell her what it was, she didn’t know how she’d find out.
Nick’s cell phone rang then, and he chose to answer it instead of responding to Elizabeth. He spoke with Grissom for a moment with his back to the DA. When he hung up, he replaced the phone on his belt and looked over his shoulder. “Look it up if you want to know,” he said, his voice weak and tired and disgusted. “It’s none of their business; it’s none of your business.” He turned to face her. “I have to go . . . Grissom needs me.”
Elizabeth sighed once he shut her door. What she hadn’t been able to work out was why the background check hadn’t turned up anything, and yet Jaycie Miller had written a letter of rejection. Nick was not being particularly forthcoming, either, which meant she’d have to do some independent research. A review of what she could find in the municipal system on Kristy Hopkins’ murder didn’t give her much more than what Nick had already told her. She decided to wait until that evening and knock on his door – maybe at home, he’d be more comfortable and give her the missing piece of the puzzle.
Once she was home, she hurriedly fed Ginger and played with her a little in the back yard before knocking on Nick’s door. When he answered it, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She admired him for a moment, standing there barefoot with tousled hair, shirtless, wearing plaid flannel pajama pants.
“Hey, Stokes.”
He allowed his eyes to adjust to the setting sun. “Hey. Why don’t you come in?”
His tone was surprisingly gentle; she smiled at him a little as he stepped aside to allow her through the door. Once she was through, he closed it behind her. “C’mon,” he said, using a swooping motion to welcome her further into the house. He led her down the hall and into the kitchen, where he had found the box his coffee maker had been packed in. He pulled it out and began to make a pot of coffee.
“I hope I didn’t wake you too soon,” she said, trying not to watch him too closely.
He shook his head, filling the water tank on the machine. “No. I wanted to drive out to Blue Diamond . . . just for a couple of minutes, if Emily will let me talk to Cassie. I tried calling earlier, but . . . I guess she was doing chores.” He turned the coffee maker on and then turned to her – still shirtless and apparently oblivious of her discomfort – and leaned against the counter. “So . . . I assume you read the file.”
She nodded. “I looked through what I could get my hands on, which was the transcript of Jack Willman’s trial. Unfortunately, it didn’t help me any. You didn’t testify and your name wasn’t mentioned. I need you to tell me what happened.”
He was quiet a moment; Elizabeth could tell he was trying not to show how angry he was at the fact that he needed defense. “If I do,” he replied, his expression like stone and his jaw set, “do I have a chance?”
“Yes, you have a chance,” she assured him. “You have a more than a chance . . . you just need someone who isn’t afraid to defend you.”
He met her gaze, which was fixed firmly on his face. “Is that going to be you?”
She nodded. “If you want it to be.”
He smiled a little. “Yeah, I do.”
Elizabeth willed herself to stop blushing. “I meant what I said earlier today. Cassie is lucky to have a friend like you, and I think you’d be a great dad. I’m going to help you get your chance.”
He nodded his thanks. “I need to get out to see Cassie before her bedtime . . . so we should talk about this, but I can’t right now. I need to get going.”
“Okay,” she replied quietly to the still-shirtless Nick. “Um . . . tomorrow is Saturday . . . I’ll be home when you’re done with work. You can just pop on over.”
“Sure,” he agreed with a nod. “Sure.” He gestured to the coffee pot. “You want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ll be up all night.”
Then he smiled a genuine and warm smile, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s the goal.”
“For you,” she conceded. Then, to avoid open admiration of his tousled hair and strong chin, she looked around his kitchen. “So . . . I take it you haven’t had the chance to talk to Cassie yet?”
He shook his head, his smile melting. “No. I want to get out there tonight and let her know before someone else does.”
“Do you think it’s wise to tell her about this? We might be talking about a delay of only three weeks or a month.”
He nodded. “I promised her I’d tell her what happened – I promised her I’d always be honest with her. Just because this is uncomfortable for me doesn’t mean I can break my promise.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks turned pink as her opinion of Nick Stokes rose even higher. “How do you think she’ll take it?” she asked quietly.
“Not well,” he said, pulling a coffee cup out of a box. “She’s lost so much faith in people . . . I don’t know how I’m going to tell her. I don’t want her to lose faith in me.”
Elizabeth turned to look at him again as he poured his coffee. “Don’t give her the option,” she advised in a gentle voice. “Make sure she knows you’re going to fight for her.”
As he took his first cautious sip of coffee, he looked into her eyes. “Who was it, Elizabeth?”
Caught off guard more than a little, she stuttered a little as she asked, “Who was what?”
“Who was it that didn’t fight for you?”
She swallowed. “No one fought for me, Stokes.”
“No one at all?”
She shook her head. “Not since I was five.” She was far beyond tears at this point, but there were still very few people who knew about what had happened to her as a child. She looked away, and then back to him. “Your case . . . this whole thing is a little closer to my heart than you realize. Cassie’s story and mine aren’t all that different.” She watched him crease his brow as he put the coffee cup down on the counter. She didn’t know why she had mentioned it, except perhaps as a device to assure Nick of her interest in Cassie’s future. “Although,” she continued, clearing her throat, “that’s really not the point. The point is . . . kids don’t want to be babied. They want to be trusted and they want to know the truth. If you respect Cassie at least that much, she’ll be okay. She doesn’t need gory details, she just needs to know that you’re not giving up.”
“I love Cassie,” he whispered frankly. “I’m not giving up.”
“Good.” For a split second, she let her eyes wander to his nicely-formed, still-shirtless biceps. Then, as though someone had splashed cold water on her face, she shook her head and met his eyes again. “I’ll . . . I’ll let you . . . you know . . . get ready for work. I’ll go home now.”
“Okay,” he replied, taking a last sip of his coffee. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow morning.”
Slightly irked that he had had the gall to just stand there, without a shirt on, and speak unaffectedly with her about so serious a subject, Elizabeth went home to a cold shower and a cold bed. For his part, as Nick started his own shower, he passively thought that it probably would have been a good idea to put on a shirt.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
From the grim look on Nick’s face, Emily knew it was going to be a bad night for Cassie, but she retrieved her anyway. She shooed the other children out of the little living room as she shooed Cassie in, closing the door behind her.
It took him a moment to meet Cassie’s eyes, but when he did, he smiled despite himself. “How you doin’, Cass?”
“I’m okay,” she replied. “What’s wrong, Nick?”
“Remember I promised to be honest with you, and I promised I’d tell you about what happens in the adoption process?”
“Yeah?”
He sat down in an armchair and patted his leg. “I have some bad news.”
She swallowed and then sat on his lap. “They’re not going to let you adopt me.”
Nick stopped himself before he shook his head. “Not right now.” Clearing his throat, he proceeded to issue the reason he had rehearsed in his head. “I think Mrs. Miller was told something about me that isn’t quite true. Do you remember, when we first talked about this, I said that people who want to adopt kids can’t be in any trouble with the law?”
“Yeah.” Her face then took on a concerned look, and she tilted her head. “Did you do something bad?”
“No,” he replied quickly, panicking slightly. “No, I didn’t, Cass . . . I promise.” He cleared his throat again, and began. “A couple of years ago, I . . . I had a girlfriend. Her name was Kristy. One night, she got into a fight with a man she knew named Jack. I happened to see them, and I broke it up and told Jack to go home . . . and he got mad at me, but he left. Then I drove her home, and I stayed at her house for a little while, and when it got late, I went home. After I left, Jack came into her house . . . and they had a fight. . . .” Nick paused to draw a breath and clear his throat again. “And . . . he killed her.”
“Why?” Cassie’s voice was a whisper. It made his eyes fill again.
“I’ve been asking myself that for a long time, honey,” he replied honestly. “He was mean, and he was mad at her,” and at me, he thought, but left out. “Beyond that, I really don’t know. I wish I did.”
“So you can’t adopt me because your girlfriend died?” she asked. “That’s really stupid.”
“No . . . that’s not why. When the police came, they found my fingerprints in the house. You remember what I taught you about fingerprints?”
She nodded. “Did they think you hurt Kristy?”
His voice was thick when he replied, “Yeah, they did. And even though the people that I work with could prove that I didn’t . . . that Jack was the one who hurt Kristy . . . the only thing that Mrs. Miller was told was that I had been the primary suspect in a murder.”
“So she thinks you’re a bad person.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, she does.” He was surprised when a tear began to roll down his cheek; he swiped it away, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”
She sighed. “It’s not fair,” she complained quietly.
“No,” he agreed, another tear falling. “It’s not. None of this is fair.”
“You can still visit me, can’t you?” she asked, her eyes big and fearful. “Susan’s dad is a bad person; they said he couldn’t visit her anymore. They’re still going to let you visit me, aren’t they?”
“I’m still going to visit you, Cass,” he replied, swallowing a sob. Then he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. “I’m so sorry.”
She squeezed back. “Don’t cry, Nicky.”
Jesus, Cassie, he thought, petting her hair, you’re not supposed to be comforting me. He pulled back a little, meeting her eyes. “All this doesn’t mean that this is where this ends. I’m not going to let anyone think that about me,” he told her, his voice firm. “I’m going to file an appeal. Do you know what that means?”
“Is it like a protest?” she asked.
“It is,” said Nick. “I’m not sure what I’ll have to do yet, but we’ll figure it out. We might have to talk to a judge, or maybe a different social worker. They might want to talk to Miss Emily, too.”
“Will it take a long time?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, shaking his head. “Is everything going all right here with Miss Emily?”
She shrugged. “It’s going okay. I mean, people say Miss Emily’s mean, but she’s not mean to me. She’s always crabby, but that’s only because people are always yelling at her. People yell all the time here . . . and Susan’s stupid. I wish you didn’t tell me I should be her friend.”
Nick kissed the side of her head. “Everyone needs a friend, Cassie Jane.”
She smiled a little. “That’s something my mom would say.”
“Yeah?” Cassie nodded. “She sounds like a smart lady. You miss her, don’t you?”
She nodded again in reply. “I miss my dad and Jeremy too.”
Stifling his personal opinions of her family, he replied, “I’ll tell you what – on my next day off I’ll come pick you up and we can drive up to Pioche. We can bring your family some flowers and check in on Sheriff and Mrs. Brackett. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds good,” she replied, and then yawned. “I’m supposed to be in bed in a few minutes,” she reported. “When is your next day off?”
“It’s on Thursday,” he replied. “I’ll have to ask Miss Emily if she’s okay with me taking you so far away.”
“Okay. Can we visit Elizabeth soon?”
“As soon as she can make some time for us, Cass.” He kissed her head again. “You go on to bed now.”
She hopped off his lap and wished him a good night, leaving the little living room. As he expected, Emily entered as soon as Cassie was upstairs.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Nick looked up at her, confused. “For what?”
“For not lying to her.” She turned around and was halfway down the hall before Nick was able to catch her.
Her face, as ever, was stony and tired as her gray eyes met his. He cleared his throat before asking, “You . . . you’re okay with me still coming to see her?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “You . . . you heard . . . everything?”
“Yeah.” She paused a moment to let it sink in, and then said, “Look, Stokes . . . I don’t think you’re capable of squishing an ant under your shoe; of course I’m okay with you still coming to see her. And you can take her as far away as you want – you just bring her back in time for supper.”
He smiled a little. “And call you every hour.”
“On the hour. I got kids to get in bed – go home.”
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
He went on to work, avoiding Grissom so he could make it through his shift without being handed a new assignment. To avoid thinking about what had happened he threw himself into the paperwork he needed to get caught up on, but found he couldn’t focus on it. After what he was sure was a full shift, he looked at his watch to discover that it was only three AM, and he had at least four hours left to go. His head thunked down on the desk as Warrick walked in.
“Hey, Nick.”
“What’s up, Warrick?”
“Oh . . . not much.” He sipped his coffee as he watched Nick rub his eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He moved his hands to the back of his neck and tilted his face upward. “I’ve been staring at paper all night . . . you know how that goes.”
“Yeah, I do,” conceded Warrick. He passed before he continued. Pulling up a chair, turning it backward and then straddling it, he began in a low, melodic tone. “Listen, Nicky . . . can we talk?”
Nick straightened and looked at Warrick. “Sure . . . I guess. Something wrong?”
“You tell me,” he challenged his friend. “I don’t want to pry-”
“Then don’t.”
Warrick returned a withering look, and pressed on. “Nick, we closed this case three weeks ago.”
Nick looked down at the pile of paper on the table, confused. “Oh.”
“You’ve been so happy lately, man, and today you storm in here, you’re lookin’ at old cases, and you’ve completely ignored Grissom all night. What’s goin’ on?”
Not knowing how to react, he stared at Warrick. He cleared his throat. “You know I don’t like it when people pry into my personal business.”
He nodded, concern in his green eyes. “Yeah, I do. I’m not asking you to spill your guts, Nick.”
“Then what do you want, Warrick?”
“I just want to know if you’re all right.”
He stared at Warrick a moment longer. “Y’know what, Rick? I’m not all right. I’ve been accused of murder, I’ve been stalked, thrown out a window, had a gun in my face I don’t know how many times – Jesus, I was buried in a Plexiglas box and eaten alive by fire ants – and you know what I have nightmares about?”
Deep concern etching his face, Warrick shook his head.
“A little girl. When I close my eyes in the morning I don’t get to sleep, ‘cuz I know she’s not happy . . . I know she’s learning about injustice and unfairness . . . I know she knows about pain and loss and fear and I know that no one is there to make it okay.”
“You’re talking about Cassie.”
Looking away, he nodded. “Yeah.”
“I thought you were doing something about that.” Coolly, he sipped his coffee again and watched his friend through half-open eyes.
Nick swallowed and cautiously met his friend’s eyes. “My petition was denied because someone at the Department of Family Services thinks I was somehow involved in Kristy Hopkins’ murder. I had to tell Cassie, and I had to tell her why.”
Warrick looked devastated for him. “I’m sorry, Nicky,” he replied. Some silence passed between them before he asked, “You gonna appeal?”
Nick chuckled humorlessly. “I don’t have a choice if I want her.”
“If there’s anything I can do . . .”
Nick nodded, looking at the case file. “Yeah . . . I know.” Then he laughed. “I’ve been staring at this damn file all night long for nothing – that’s just great.”
Warrick rose from his chair and righted it at the table. “Why don’t you give me a hand – I could use some help in the evidence room.”
Nick looked around, and seeing nothing else of value to do, he agreed and followed Warrick. Once his shift was over, he avoided the locker room until he was fairly sure everyone had already left.
Sara, however, had been waiting for him. She felt his tension when she approached. “Havin’ a bad day, Nick?”
“You could say that,” he replied.
“You wanna share?”
“Not really. I’ve shared way too much today.” He rose to close his locker and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “The worst part of it is . . . I’m going to have to share some more tomorrow.” He let out a breath and rubbed his eyes a little. “It’s just a little setback with Cassie.”
Sara tilted her head. “She okay?”
“Yeah, she’s all right,” he assured her quickly. “Just . . . the whole process . . . a little setback with that.”
She nodded her head. “You know, no one’s called or sent me anything in the mail for a reference. If I remember right from some past cases, that’s usually the first thing they do.”
Nick creased his brow. “Really? I wonder why?”
Sara shook her head. “You should probably ask your lawyer about that.”
He smiled a little. “I’ll be getting a new one in the morning . . . I’ll be sure to.” When he looked back at Sara, he smiled. “Don’t worry, Sar,” he said. “I know where to find you.”
She nodded in acknowledgement. “I know. Just make sure you do if you need me.”
“I will,” he replied gently, patting her upper arm. “Have a good day.”
________________________
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
Still doing a great job! It all seems very realistic. I like how Nick is staying relatively calm and proceeding in a way that can get things done.
I find myself just reading right though it...no muddling or anything. It's all very clear and flows smoothly. Nice style.
I find myself just reading right though it...no muddling or anything. It's all very clear and flows smoothly. Nice style.
I think one of the things that stands out the most in this is how honest Nick is with Cassie. You don't see adults doing that a lot with children. I think it's good. I liked how Emily with all her rough appearances is still ok with Nick seeing Cassie.
Looks forward to the next update
Looks forward to the next update