Friday, July 11th

Erin awoke slowly, clawing her way out of nightmare. Sitting up in bed, she rubbed her face and tried to get a grip on reality. The nightmare had seemed real and it took her a moment to steady her breathing and slow her heart rate. She had had the dream before, countless times and it was always the same.

She was in that awful place, the place her folks had sent her when she was fourteen. It was deemed a behavioral health center, located at a downtown hospital, but to Erin it had been her own private hell. Being the youngest one in the ward, she had also been the one with the least amount of problems. The place had been crawling with mentally disturbed teens, violent and suicidal ones, as well as the ones messed up on drugs. That was what her problem had been, drugs. Marijuana had been her constant companion, along with acid and speed, to bring her up when she got too down. Her parents had found her stash one day and they had overreacted as they had always done and carted her off to the hospital. Any time things didn't appear perfect; they freaked out and over reacted, over compensating to fix the problem, anything to get life back to the perfection they worked so hard to achieve. It had been easier to just send her away, rather than taking a look at themselves and examining their home life and asking why she had turned to drugs. It was simpler to just void her out, blame it all on her and send her away to get fixed.

"Oh Erin got mixed up in drugs, you know how kids are with peer pressure and all. You've got to watch them twenty four hours a day or who knows what kind of trouble they'll find." Her mother's voice rang in her ears, explaining her behavior away as nothing more than something her friends had dared her to do.

She stood and walked into the bathroom where she splashed water on her sweat soaked face and neck, washing away the plastic voice of her mother. She looked at herself long and hard in the mirror and reminded herself that she was no longer fourteen and helpless. She was safe now, and in control of her own life. She leaned on the counter to balance herself as her mind reeked havoc and once again flashed back to the dream.

She's sitting on the floor in the center of the room watching television. It's night time and they're running another test on her. She's not sure what it's for but she's being made to stay up all night with no sleep. There are things stuck to her head to monitor her brain activity, at least that's what she thinks they are for. Suddenly, a noise comes from behind and she looks and sees that it's one of her counselors. His name is Rick and she thinks he's sick. Sick Rick is what she calls him. Not sick like throwing up sick, but sick like perverted kind of sick. He's smiling at her and he moves his pale, gangly body up next to her where he squats down.

"Hello Erin." He says, looking at her.

She looks at him briefly and he winks at her through his thick framed glasses. He swallows and she watches his Adam's apple bob up and down like the fishing bobber her grandfather always lets her use. She looks away and wishes she was with her grandparents. She wishes she was anywhere but here.

Rick looks around the quiet ward before focusing again on her. "How are you?" He asks, sounding concerned. The tone of his voice alerts her and she knows what he wants. He always starts out trying to sound concerned and caring, and his voice gets higher, almost whiny and she knows what's next. "You doing ok?" The whining continues and he lightly strokes her arm.

She freezes and stops breathing. She closes her eyes and wishes she could leave her body, that the molecules of her soul could somehow float out of her body and out of the hospital to her grandparents home where she feels safe, loved, secure.

"All this testing can be rough." Rick continues. "How bout a break?"

Erin shrugs. "I'm fine, thanks." She was always polite, even to Sick Rick.

Rick stands from his squat. "Nah, you can't be fine. Look at you, all these wires. You need a break."

Erin shakes her head in defiance. "But if I take a break it'll ruin the test and they'll make me do it again tomorrow night."

Rick smiles once again, reaching down to lift her up by the arm. "Well then, I'll hang out with you tomorrow night too."

She stands and looks up at his face as he continues to talk. "And the night after that and the night after that." He lets go of her arm and reaches down to unzip his pants. She tries to run but the wires on her head have her leashed. "Here, help me." Rick says, taking her hand and placing it on his penis.

"No!" she says, pulling her hand away.

Rick's eyes get big and he grabs her by the arm tightly. "You do it or I'll send you to "the room"."

She looks over at "the room" that stands in the corner of the ward. It's tiny and its walls are covered completely with white pads. She decides her preference is for the padded room rather than Sick Rick and his dick. She pulls away from him and opens her mouth to tell him, but she's interrupted by a noise coming from one of the connecting rooms.

A door slams and a loud screaming pierces her ears. An older pimply boy named Brad is running around the ward, beating his fists into his head as he screams. Numerous other counselors give chase and Rick leans in and whispers in her ear.

"Looks like Brad will be joining you in "the room." Erin shakes her head no as the screaming gets louder and louder. It's joined by Rick's deep evil laughter and Erin can't escape. She falls to her knees and cries. She cries and cries until the real tears bring her out of the nightmare.

She dried her face methodically with a soft towel.

"It's over." She said to herself, while running her hands through her messy hair. No more hospital, no more Sick Rick and no more perfection seeking parents who refused to understand. She had her own life now, a good one, even if it didn't largely include her folks.

Forgiving them had not been an easy task for her and it had led more to avoidance on her part. She found it hard to sit and talk with them, to listen to how perfect her sister's lives were and how perfect their own lives were. Her father pampering his classic cars and playing golf, her mother traveling and organizing activities with the grand kids. And then of course there always came the questions about the life she had chosen to live. Why did she have to become a cop, it's such a masculine job and so unsafe. Why didn't she quit and stay home and raise a family, Mark made plenty of money to support that.

She laughed at her reflection at the thoughts of her parents. The light filtering in from the morning sun reflected off her wedding band bringing her focus away from her parents and onto her fragile marriage. Eyeing the ring, she pulled it off easily and placed it in a jewelry bowl on the counter. It clanged around the bowl, ringing in her new found liberty and settled in silence in the center of the bowl. Rubbing her bare finger, she examined it to make sure there were no marks or tan lines. The newly exposed skin felt soft and smooth and she suddenly felt lighter at the absence of the platinum and the ungodly sized diamond. With the first positive feeling of the morning, she smiled and decided to focus on getting ready for the day.

She started the shower and stepped in. Henderson was to pick her up at ten o'clock after she met with Sergeant Ruiz at the station. The meeting had originally been planned for all the detectives working the case, but Erin was more than glad that she no longer needed to attend. She was confident in her fellow detectives and she knew they would fill her in on anything important. In the meantime, she was determined to concentrate on her agenda, while letting the hot water wash away the remnants of the nightmare and the negative thoughts that had accompanied it.

She exited the shower somewhat refreshed and ready to focus on the assignment ahead. She got dressed while humming to herself, lost in thoughts pertaining to nothing special. After she dressed, she then busied herself with what was left of her packing. She had done the majority of her packing the night before and it didn't take her long to finish up.

She tossed in her tooth brush and zipped the large duffel bag closed and carried it out to set it down by the front door. Walking into the kitchen, she saw that it was only nine and she still had an hour left to kill. Not much of a breakfast person, she opened the stainless steel fridge and pulled out a cold diet Pepsi. Popping the top, she began leafing through the mail as she sipped the cold caffeine.

She stopped leafing when she came upon Mark's credit card statement. She didn't usually pay it any mind, having seen it's contents before. But she was finally tired of ignoring and pretending, the absence of her wedding band insisting upon it. She opened a drawer and grabbed a knife to cut it open. She pulled out the folded papers and smoothed them open. She never understood why he didn't have the statements sent to his office, when he knew that she opened most of the mail. Of course, had she ever questioned some of the charges, he could easily say he was entertaining a client. And it was true; most of the charges were at restaurants and places where he might actually take a client. And before, Erin hadn't cared. But now things had changed. She felt fiercely independent and ready to move on, alone.

She read through the charges and turned the page to continue. This month's statement was longer than the others, Mark having charged quite a bit. The majority of the charges were from Austin and that didn't surprise her since they almost always were. But then she came across some charges that completely threw her. They were from baby boutiques and some were from a baby furniture outlet. She stopped breathing and tried to make sense of what she was seeing. Maybe a client of his was having a baby and he wanted to buy them a nice gift.

Erin mentally scanned the charges and added them up. It was well over a thousand dollars. That was one hell of a shower gift. She shook her head and set down the statement. It wasn't proof positive, but it was pretty damn close. Mark and his mistress were having a baby.

Erin covered her mouth and walked like a zombie over to the couch. She sat down and stared straight ahead. She wanted to cry but she couldn't. She wanted to scream but she couldn't. All she could do was sit and stare. Time passed but she didn't know how much. The doorbell rang but she didn't move. It rang again after a few minutes and she finally rose to answer it.

She pulled the door open and the sun pierced her eyes. "Hi." Henderson said with a smile.

Erin stepped aside to allow her to enter. "You ok?" Henderson asked walking into the house.

"Huh? Oh, fine." Erin managed to say.

"You look like you just saw a ghost." Henderson eyed the pale woman, her concern growing.

Erin laughed a little at the statement, wishing a ghost was all that she had seen.

"Let's get the hell out of here." She picked up her bag and walked outside, not bothering to lock the door.

Henderson walked out behind her and pulled the door closed, not knowing what to make of Mac's odd behavior. "Ok." She said as they headed off to her blazer.

They rode in silence with Henderson looking over at Mac every once in awhile to make sure she was ok. She didn't know what was bothering her but she guessed it probably had something to do with Mark. She thought about asking, but what went on between Mac and Mark was none of her business and she didn't want to pry. But eventually, she decided that if she were any friend at all to Mac, she should at least offer an ear.

"Listen, Mac. If there's anything you ever need to talk about,.." She glanced over at her and saw that she was still staring out the window. "I'm here for you." Henderson finished softly.

Henderson focused back on the road and continued to drive along in silence. After awhile the silence became too much for her, it hung too heavy in the air. She decided to turn on the radio and reached down to do so.

"He got her pregnant." Erin stated bluntly and softly, not looking away from the window.

"What? Who?" Henderson was completely confused by the revelation and she quickly removed her hand from the radio, glad Mac was finally talking.

"Mark." Erin said flatly.

Henderson jerked her head around and looked at her. "He got someone pregnant?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"It seems so." Erin said with no emotion.

"Who?" Henderson asked, noticing how detached Erin seemed.

"His mistress in Austin."

Henderson refocused on the road ahead and searched her brain for a "how to" manual on helping a friend get through infidelity. "How did you find out?" It was the best she could come up with.

"His credit card statement." This time Erin managed to pry her eyes away from the window and she looked at Henderson. "Usually, he spends money on fancy restaurants and flowers and expensive gifts for her. But this time he spent close to two thousand dollars on baby furniture and accessories." She paused and looked back out the window. "So you tell me, what would you think?"

Henderson gripped the steering wheel and clenched her jaw. "Son of a bitch." She seethed as she shook her head in disgust. She had disliked Mark when she first met him, but now she hated him. How could he do that to Mac? "I'm sorry." She said, meaning it on so many different levels.

Erin turned her head and continued to look out the window. She didn't want to think anymore, she just wanted to exist. Sometimes it was easier to just zone out and focus on other things. Little things even. She had briefly studied Buddhism and it had encouraged her to focus on the tiniest of details and that's what she needed to do now.

Looking out the window, she began to take in her surroundings. They had been driving for awhile and had turned into an upper-class neighborhood in the center of the city. The homes were older but very well kept with most of the homeowners coming from old money. Erin focused on the homes, their well manicured lawns, and she tried to imagine the people that lived in each house. Who were they? How long had they lived there? And what did they enjoy doing from day to day? Perhaps it was an older couple. Retired. Yes, they were still in love and they led a peaceful, loving life together in their well to do home.

Henderson pulled up in front of one of the smaller homes and put the truck in park, bringing Erin back from the deep recesses of her mind. Climbing down out of the truck, she examined the house before her. It was painted an off white, contrasting nicely with red tiled roof. The yard was lush with green grass and palm trees. A white Honda Accord sat in the driveway and Erin eyed her undercover vehicle. It looked fairly new and she read the tags, knowing that it she entered them into the police database, Katherine Chandler's name would appear.

The sun was warm and mesmerizing and Erin allowed it to massage her bare arms. Turning back to the blazer, she retrieved her bag and followed Henderson inside, disappointed in having to leave the comforting warmth of the sun.

Stepping inside its cool confines, she noticed right away that it was furnished tastefully and expensively, and white carpet covered the floors. She immediately became dirt conscious at the sight of the white carpet and slipped off her sneakers.

Henderson watched her and chuckled. "You don't have to do that here."

Erin held up her hand in protest. "Yes, I do. If I get that carpet dirty, I'll go insane." She had the same fetish with socks. She couldn't stand for white socks to be anything less than stark white.

Henderson shrugged and followed Erin's lead and pulled off her boots, careful to tread lightly with the other detectives feelings for the time being. If something as simple as keeping the carpet pristine helped to ease Mac's nerves, then she would gladly cooperate.

"You're socks are very white." Erin said, looking appreciatively at Henderson's feet.

Henderson looked down at her socks and eyed Erin carefully. She wondered if she had slipped a cog over Mark. "Huh?" She said, more than a little confused.

"Some people's socks aren't so white."

"Mac, are you ok?" Henderson was becoming more than concerned. Mac stood in the center of the front room staring at Henderson's feet as if they were magical.

"What?" Erin shook her head to shake the trance. "Yes, fine. Sorry, I have this thing about white socks." She knew she must sound ridiculous and she clasped her forehead in disgust. "I know it's weird and people have teased me about for years, but I can't stand dirty or dingy looking socks.

"Uh-huh, so I gather." Henderson kept her eyes on the blonde, not quite believing she was as fine as she made herself out to be. "Maybe we should talk about putting this thing with Adams off until next weekend." Maybe they should put it off indefinitely.

Erin caught the look of concern on Henderson's face and she needed to reassure the detective, and fast. "I'm fine, really I am."

"Even with all that's going on in your personal life? You need time to deal with it, Mac. You're standing here staring at my feet for God's Sake."

Erin sighed and walked over to the couch where she plopped down. "I know. I must look like I'm nuts. But I'm fine, really." She looked up at Henderson and saw the disbelief in her eyes. "Everyone goes through hard times. Even you. And I don't know about you, but the best way for me to deal with them sometimes is to compartmentalize." She watched as Henderson walked over and joined her on the sofa. "I need this assignment, Henderson. I need to be able to tuck my problems away for the time being and focus on Adams. Haven't you ever needed something like that? To help you through a bad time in your life?"

Henderson looked at her and thought for a moment. She thought about the horrible times with Adams and how she had thrown herself into her writing in order to get through it. She had written some of her best stuff during that time period.

"I understand." Her blue eyes locked with light green ones. "But, if I, even for a second, think you're unstable or in over your head, I'll pull the plug."

Erin grinned, relief washing over her. "Deal." She stood and looked around at her new surroundings. It was time to move on to a lighter subject. "This place is great, I feel like a heel knowing this is funded by tax payers." She looked around the spacious and more than adequate home.

"The tax payers aren't fronting the bill." Henderson said as she walked over and hoisted up Mac's duffle bag to carry into the master bedroom. "It was my Aunt's home."

"Your Aunt?" Erin followed her down the hallway. "Is she.."

"Dead?" Henderson set the bag down in the center of the room and placed her hands on her hips. "Yes, she passed away last year."

"I'm sorry." Erin glanced around the room and she hoped she wouldn't be sleeping in a dead woman's bed. The thought sent chills up her spine.

"It's ok." Henderson followed Erin's gaze to the bed. "All the furniture in the house has been replaced. Including the bed."

Erin allowed herself to breathe a little easier at hearing the news. "She didn't die here did she?"

"You mean in the house? No. In fact, she hardly spent anytime here at all. She spent winters here in Valle Luna and the rest of the time she spent back east or traveling the world."

Erin walked over to the bed and sat down. It was soft yet firm and she lay back and spread out her arms, trying to shed some of the earlier tension the day had shown her. "You're really close to this investigation, Patricia." She used her first name, hoping Henderson would here the concern in her voice.

Henderson shoved her hands in her pockets. "I am because I have to be. It's personal."

"Isn't it dangerous, to be this intertwined in the investigation?" Erin propped herself up on her elbows and looked over at Henderson.

"No, we were careful. Very careful." She shifted her weight from foot to foot, trying hard not to look at how inviting Mac looked lying on the bed. "You think you'll be ok staying here?" She was still concerned about her and she still didn't feel right about her going undercover after Adams so soon. Especially, now that her personal life was upsetting her. It may push her to take unnecessary risks.

"Yeah, I'll be ok. It's a nice home, comfortable and cozy." Erin didn't want to talk about herself or her feelings anymore. "Were you close to your Aunt?"

"Not really. She never could understand "why I didn't just find myself a man and settle down."" Henderson said the last bit in her best Southern accent, imitating her Aunt.

"Well, did you tell her why?" Erin sat up and patted the bed for Henderson to join her.

"Yes." Henderson walked over and sat down next to Erin, careful not to sit too close.

"And she still didn't understand?"

Henderson sighed as she thought of her Aunt. "She was old and set in her ways. And she expected me to be able to ignore my attraction to women and marry a man."

"Were you ever with a man?" Erin was curious about Henderson past lovers, no matter who they may have been.

"No!" Henderson said and flopped back on the bed. "Even if I had tried, I think I would've thrown up from the kissing alone."

They both laughed and stared up at the revolving ceiling fan. "They are a lot rougher than a woman. It's the facial hair, I think." Erin said, having only kissed one woman in her lifetime, but the experience had been earth shattering and very different from a man.

"No, it's a lot more than the facial hair. They always try to stick their tongue down your throat right away." Henderson said.

"How would you know!"

"Hey, I had horrible high school dates too." Henderson clarified and then sighed. "God, I hated high school. It never failed, every date I went on the guy always slimed my face with a forced wet kiss and attempted a rough grope of my breast." She shivered with the grotesque thought and then laughed. "Except for Barry. Barry could kiss."

"So what happened with Barry, did it get hot and heavy?" Erin asked, turning on her side to face Henderson and resting her head in her hand.

"No, we never went passed kissing. He was the only guy that kissed soft and slow. And we were content with kissing, never anything more."

"Why?"

Henderson laughed. "Probably because we were both really gay."

"Get out! Him too?"

"Oh yeah. He was more feminine than I was." Henderson folded her arms back behind her head. "He was a great guy. Went to prom together and everything."

"Whatever happened to him? Are you guys still in touch?"

"No, we lost touch after high school. But I heard he's out and proud, living in California."

Erin lay in silence for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Henderson. "What about now, do you have any close friends?"

Henderson swallowed hard at the question. "I had better go." She sat up and rubbed her hands on her knees. "I still have a lot things to go over and I know you do too."

Erin got up with her and walked with her to the front door. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." She had gone too far with the questioning and she regretted doing so.

"No offense taken Mac, really. You gonna be ok alone here today?" She thought briefly about staying, to make sure she was really ok. But she didn't like the personal questions and her fondness and attraction to Mac made it harder for her to keep the distance she so easily kept everyone else. She decided to go and to call Mac later to check on her.

"Yes, fine. I think I'll start in on some of your books."

Henderson fidgeted with her car keys, nervous about Mac reading her stuff. "Ok, well I'll see you later." She opened the door and walked out.

"Bye." Erin said closing the door behind her. She looked around the house and decided it was time for a drink. Searching the kitchen, she found a bottle of Jack Daniels and a six pack of Coke. The house was completely stocked and had everything she may need. She poured herself a drink and walked about the house, taking in it's walls, getting used to it's confines. She reminded herself that she needed to unpack the photos she had brought. Pictures of her from childhood, as well as meaningless photos of people she did not know. All of it was needed to help make the home seem like it was really hers.

She wandered back into the living room and sat down on the couch. Thoughts of Mark swirled in her head and she didn't know whether she should scream or cry. Why did this upset her so badly? She had known about the affair, even accepted it in a strange sort of way. She never confronted him on it, she hadn't cared. So why did she care now?

She took another deep pull from her glass. The Coke did nothing to mask the potent flavor of the J.D., a whiskey she usually avoided drinking. But today she embraced its strength and savored the burn it inflicted as it seared down her throat. It acknowledged her pain, confronted it head on and then numbed it. Numbed it so she could, for the briefest of time, think about it without flinching, work it out without bleeding to death.

Mark. She leaned back on the couch and drained her drink, desperate for it to fight her demons. Where had it gone wrong? She had grown used to the betrayal, but why? Because she had stopped loving him. The revelation came out of nowhere, and yet it floated in so clearly. She was just as guilty as he was for the failure of their marriage. Had she truly cared, she would've tried harder, she would've insisted he end the affair. But she hadn't. And now this baby, or the hint of one on paper, was a slap in the face. A brutal awakening that her marriage was indeed over, and had been for a long time.

The comfortable groove of ignorance she had been living in had come to a shocking halt. It was time to change, time to make a move, she was now forced to face her failure and that's what pained her the most. She decided to face it now, before she went in after Adams and while the J.D. was making her courageous. She picked up the phone from the table next to the couch. She punched in Mark's cell phone number and listened as it rang for several moments. She heard his voice apologizing for missing the call and asking for her to please leave a message.

"Mark, it's me. I really need to talk to you, can you please call me back as soon as you get this message?" She hung up and lay down on the couch, stretching out her heavy limbs. The stress and the adrenaline had fatigued her and she closed her eyes and drifted off, the phone clutched to her chest.

She awoke to the phone ringing, its sound coming from far away at the end of a long tunnel.

"Hello." Her voice was like gravel, her eyes still closed.

"Mac?" It was Henderson. "Are you ok?"

Erin opened her eyes and tried to focus. "Fine. I guess I dozed off." She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes.

"I was just calling to check on you, make sure you were alright."

Erin glanced down at her watch and realized she had been asleep for a few hours. Ample time for Mark to have returned her call. "Yes, I'm ok. Thanks."

"You sure? I thought maybe I could come by later and bring dinner?"

Erin thought for a moment, the wheels of her brain not yet awake and slow to turn. "Thanks, but no. I've been asleep and now I'm behind on my reading. I need to get caught up."

"You sure?" Henderson hadn't liked leaving her there alone and the worry was thick on her voice.

"Yeah, I'm sure. If I need anything I'll give you a call."

They politely ended the call and Erin stood and stretched and placed the phone back on its charger. Mark was busy in Austin. Too busy to return her call. He was busy with his new family.

To hell with Mark. To hell with him and his mistress and their baby. To hell with her past and her parents. It was time to grow up and get tough. She squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw. It was time to look after herself in this world. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more being over emotional or empathetic. And it would start with this assignment.

TBC

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