TITLE: Between the Shadow and the Soul (6/?)
PAIRING: A veritable clusterfuck… but there is only one way it can end up.
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

(Cindy’s POV)

She knew that Jill would be angry. Maybe not irate, probably not even terribly surprised, but certainly irritated. In no uncertain terms had she been asked to stay in her apartment, to rest up for a few days and give herself time to heal before she got back into the thick of it. And she didn’t just tell Jill that she would. She’d promised.

She tried. She really did. She rented movies. She made popcorn. She had every intention of staying right where she was, regardless of the fact that sitting around her apartment wasn’t something she did well or particularly wanted to do. When it came right down to it, though, she simply had no willpower. When she heard about the abduction of Corinne Stevens on her police scanner, even if technically she should have had it turned off, she couldn’t just sit there waiting for a slow trickle of information. She’d never heard of the woman, but somehow it felt vitally important that she get up, take a long repulsed look at her stitches in the mirror, dress carefully, and go find out what was going on.

Though she wasn’t sure why exactly, she felt needed. It was an inexplicable sensation, but incredibly persuasive. Then again, maybe she just wanted to feel that way. Maybe she needed to believe she was part of something that didn’t work as well without her. Even if it wasn’t true.

Lindsay had seemed rather shocked to see her walking in. The way she just stood there and stared was completely abnormal Lindsay behavior. She didn’t get upset, which was remarkable, and relieving Instead of yelling or lecturing, Lindsay had just quietly asked how she was feeling, and when she lied and said that she felt fine, Lindsay smiled and let it slide. It was almost as if she was happy to see her there.

And when she’d asked for a rundown on the case, Lindsay offered it with very little reservation and was surprisingly forthcoming. It was almost as if things were better than normal.

But then Jill walked in and caught her working, which she had promised not to do, and though Jill had tried to be blase when she asked her if she shouldn’t be at home resting, she was bothered, probably more by the lie than anything. The laidback response she had given Jill in return wasn’t her proudest moment. She just really didn’t want to get into it right there, with Lindsay as witness. But she should have been more apologetic. She was, after all, the one who had broken her promise. Though she trusted Jill knew her well enough to realize a promise to stay put wasn’t actually a promise she could ever keep.

Still, she felt guilty as hell about it, especially when Jill was going out of her way to look out for her, take care of things for her, and check in on a regular basis. Even when Jill couldn’t make it by her apartment, she called almost hourly just to make sure everything was as it should be. Which was why the fact that Jill hadn’t called since Cindy left the hall seemed a really bad sign.

There was little Cindy could do it about it now. She was already out of the house and working, thoughts of relaxation and healing long stricken off her agenda. She had to follow her instincts, try to find out what she could about Lindsay’s case, because it felt vital, whether it actually was or not.

When the phone on her desk finally did ring, Cindy grabbed it at once, her face contorting as she suddenly remembered that, in her current state, she couldn’t do things like that without consequence.

“Cindy Thomas,” she exhaled painfully.

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t answer this phone,” Jill’s disheartened voice returned.

“Jill,” Cindy breathed, grateful that they were still speaking. “I am so sorry. I know that I said I would stay home…”

“Cindy,” Jill tried to interrupt.

“And I was going to. I really was,” Cindy swore. “But I just… there was something about this case. I don’t know what it is, but… I am taking it easy. I promise.”

“Cindy,” Jill said again, weakly. Maybe weaker than Cindy had ever heard her.

“What?” she hesitantly asked, though Jill’s dark tone made her wonder if she wanted to know.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this.” She could almost hear Jill shaking her head on the other end of the line.

“Well, you have to now,” Cindy declared.

The demand was greeted with a heavy sigh, and Cindy put her hand on the edge of her desk, feeling as if she would soon need the support to stand.

“Lindsay thinks that this guy…” Jill started, stopping again suddenly.

“This guy what, Jill?” Cindy murmured, her heart starting to race for no known reason.

“She thinks it’s Kiss-Me-Not,” Jill stated plainly.

“What?” Cindy whispered, sinking down into her chair, struck suddenly by the full extent of her fragile state. “What makes her think that?”

“I don’t know.” Jill answered. “I get the impression it’s more of a gut feeling than anything.”

Like it had been for her. Just an instinct.

Battling the rapidly rising nausea, Cindy rubbed at her chest, the burning sensation making her faint. Breathing deeply and steadily, her mind drifted to Lindsay. Who had clocked more hours inside the world of Kiss-Me-Not’s crimes than Lindsay? If she thought that it was him, proof or not, Cindy was certain that it was, which left her with only one stabbing curiosity.

“Why didn’t she call me?”

“She didn’t call me either,” Jill admitted quietly. “Claire told me.”

Though the fact that she wasn’t singularly excluded did take away the outcast feeling, it didn’t make it hurt any less that Lindsay hadn’t bothered to enlighten either of them to something this significant. World blurring before her, Cindy was overly conscious of the violent ache just below her sternum.

“So where is she?” Cindy asked softly.

“Working, I’m sure.” Jill was giving her the best answer she had. “She’s Lindsay. She’ll work nonstop if she believes she can prevent him from doing something horrible to this woman.”

“Shouldn’t we be there?” Cindy whispered.

“I’m not sure that she wants my help,” Jill countered miserably.

“Why would you say that?”

“Gut feeling,” Jill muttered.

The feeling of dread creeping down her neck told Cindy there was more to it, but since she couldn’t begin to process any more at the moment, she chose not to overload herself by asking too many questions.

“We said that we’d be there,” she reminded Jill.

“If she wants us,” Jill paused, sounding distinctly unsure, “she’ll call.”

That seemed rather unlikely. Lindsay rarely knew what she wanted. Or maybe just wanted all the wrong things.

“How are you doing?” Jill’s quiet question drew her out of her own head.

Cindy managed a slight smile at the unsuccessfully veiled concern.

“I’m okay,” she sighed. It was mostly true. She wasn’t in as much pain as she could have been, and the pain that she could identify at the moment had little to do with the physical.

“You really should be home.”

Of course she should be. In an ideal world, it would be that simple. In an ideal world, a killer who had haunted one of her best friends for the past few years, and her personally ever since Lindsay had been threatened by him, wouldn’t resurface without warning. In an ideal world, he wouldn’t have existed at all.

“I just want to help her,” Cindy stated with quiet conviction.

“I know,” Jill said after a few silent beats. “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know,” Cindy softly returned.

The silence across the line was comfortable and comforting. There was solace in knowing she and Jill could share this burden. Why Lindsay wouldn’t let them take some of it from her was less consoling.

“I should really get back to work,” Jill regretfully declared. “Will you at least leave at a reasonable hour?”

Wishing she could tell Jill what she wanted to hear, but knowing that she couldn’t, Cindy frowned. With the new information she had, she seriously doubted she would be leaving at an hour considered reasonable even if she was in full health. She had sworn to Lindsay, that night in Claire’s living room, that she would do whatever it took to help her find him if Kiss-Me-Not reappeared in her life. And she had meant it.

“I’m not going to make any more promises, since I did such a poor job of keeping the last one,” she said finally, feeling double the guilt when Jill breathed heavily into the phone.

“Well, I appreciate the honesty at least.”

“What about you?” Cindy asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably stick around for a while, in case Lindsay decides she wants to talk to me.”

There it was again. Ever since she’d been shot, it was as if there was something not right between Jill and Lindsay. Almost as if their relationship was in peril. Like they were grating against each other. And she could see it from only one side, because, while Jill had been pretty much her constant companion, Lindsay hadn’t been around at all. In fact, seeing Lindsay at the hall this morning was the first time she’d seen her since that night at the hospital. Chest twinging again at the thought, she shook it away and tried to focus on Jill’s pain instead of her own. It seemed Lindsay had been getting around with it lately.

“Is something wrong, Jill? I mean, besides the obvious.”

“No,” Jill responded, though it was slow in coming and untrue when it arrived. “It’ll be fine. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Cindy asked.

“Positive,” Jill vowed.

“Okay,” Cindy uneasily conceded.

“I’m going to call you later and check up,” Jill said. Cindy would have guessed it if she hadn’t been told.

“I’ll keep my phone on,” she softly smiled.

“Okay. Just… take care of yourself, okay?” Jill pleaded.

“I will,” Cindy returned. She didn’t make it a promise, but it was understood.

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Alright. Bye.”

After Jill’s soft goodbye, Cindy hung up, feeling the weight of it all crash down on her, concentrated in her aching chest. And if that’s how she was feeling, she could only imagine what must be going through Lindsay’s head. More than anything, Cindy wanted to call her, needed to call her, despite Jill’s counsel that, if she needed or wanted them, Lindsay would let them know.

She didn’t try to fight it, but when her cell suddenly stopped ringing and went to Lindsay’s voice mail, and she knew that Lindsay had silenced the call, she wished she had. She closed the phone, trying not to let the tears fall, cursing inwardly when one escaped down her cheek.

Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was just too overwhelming and Lindsay couldn’t deal anyone else right now. She couldn’t let herself believe that Lindsay just couldn’t deal with her.

God, she’d just known there was something bad about this case. Maybe Lindsay really didn’t want her help. That had never mattered before. And it didn’t matter now. She was still going to do everything in her power to help Lindsay catch Kiss-Me-Not before he destroyed her life all over again.