House Arrest (20/35) – WMC fic

(12/27 – Lindsay’s POV)

It wasn’t the almost kissing Cindy that was the issue. Not anymore. That was done. She was past that part of it. What was completely distressing now was the fact that when she thought back to that moment, which seemed to be her most recurring thought over the past two days, she kept cursing, not herself for nearly doing it, but the phone for so rudely interrupting.

How could she curse the phone? The phone saved her ass. What if she’d completed her mission? What if she’d slid her hand onto the back of Cindy’s neck, along what always looked like such warm, smooth skin, and lowered her lips to that soft, inviting mouth that always seemed to have something to say? That would have been… bad?

Cindy got her better than anyone. To some extent Claire and Jill and Jacobi understood her drive, her desire to capture the killers of the world, but not like Cindy did.  So yes, doing anything to mess up that dynamic, their reciprocal friendship, their effective teamwork, that would have been bad. She needed Cindy in her life. She did not need to scare her away by forcing her unpredictable, suddenly very romantic, feelings onto her.

When she’d gotten in on Christmas night and told Cindy about the case, what had Cindy said right away?

“Copycat?”

That’s what she had asked. Not, “Hey did you arrest the wrong person?” She hadn’t doubted in the least that the right person was already in jail for the crime. She’d just assumed there was another perp.

Not like here.

“So, have you found the real killer yet?”

Count backward from ten, Lindsay. Remember your anger management training.

“Yes. He’s where he has been the whole time. In jail.”

“Then, how’d he commit another murder?”

“Copycat, Tom.”

“With details of the crime that only the police knew?”

“At an officer’s house. I know that offends your Lieutenant ‘s sensibilities, but you’re going to have to consider the fact that a police officer saw an opportunity and seized it.”

“A police officer who was on duty at the time.”

“And we haven’t found one single person who saw him where he was supposed to be assigned.”

“How hard are you looking?”

That was it. Lindsay was up. And a moment later, Jacobi was in front of her, pushing her backward.

“Okay, let’s keep it calm.”

“Tell him that we did our jobs right.”

“We did our jobs right.”

“It doesn’t look that way.”

“Our guy confessed,” Lindsay said in disbelief.

“And he was so strung out, he would have confessed to Nazi genocide if you’d interrogated him about it.”

“The victim also ID’d him,” Jacobi came to Lindsay’s defense.

“And she’s so drugged, she can’t even see straight.”

“Your officer killed his family Tom. Give me five minutes with him and he’ll be singing like Julie Andrews.”

“No. You don’t get five minutes with him. You get to first prove that the guy you have put in jail for the first murder is actually the killer. Then, and only then, do you get to accuse a cop of using the details of a homicide to cover up the murder of his own family. Maybe if everyone hadn’t been in such a damn hurry to get out of here for the holiday…”

“That’s what this is about?”Lindsay cut in. “You’re mad because I wanted off for Christmas?”

“I’m not mad that you wanted off for Christmas. I’m mad that you did a sloppy job to make sure you could get off for Christmas.”

Before Lindsay could speak, Jacobi was right there again, blocking her from getting herself fired.

“Come on. Let’s just get him what he wants. Let’s get back to the house and put the guy inside it. We know he was there. He had to have left part of himself somewhere.”

Lindsay wanted nothing more than to push past him, run up to Tom and give him a solid kick to his very deserving groin, but Jacobi’s eyes were pleading.

“Fine,” she said, and could have seriously breathed fire as she watched Tom walk back up the stairs toward his office.

“I’ll round us up some help,” Jacobi said when he was sure Tom was out of earshot.

“Okay. I’ve just got to call Cindy and tell her I won’t be home. Again.”

Jacobi stopped and looked back at her with a calculating look she wasn’t finding herself particularly fond of.

“What?” she asked him.

Jacobi just shook his head and walked off, and Lindsay squirmed inside. Jacobi’s ability to read people served them very well in field work, but when it came to her personal life, the man was just too damn aware.