Precious Illusions
part 9
Andy Trudeau nonchalantly threw his jacket over the chair that sat comfortably beside his small workstation, immediately loosening and detaching the red tie around his neck from the white dress shirt covering his tall, lean frame, breathing an intense sigh of pure relief. Reaching out, he carefully placed his hands behind his head, stretching his tired muscles.
"Things are looking up on the Wilkinson case, my friend," a cheerful voice uttered, as it came up behind him, gently tossing a folder filled with assorted contents onto his desk. Darryl Morris stood there, a huge grin covering his face, as he placed two hands upon his hips, rocking back upon his heels. "The calls have been pouring in since this went down, and I think we've finally landed ourselves a solid."
"Yeah?" Andy raised a brow, his fatigue slowly diminishing from his handsome face, as he bent over slightly to examine the photos and documents concealed inside the thin manila folder, curiosity beginning to overwhelm him.
"I think we're looking at a female, blonde, age twenty to thirty," he volunteered. "Must have had quite the strength to pack the wallop she did. I mean, the guy was beat senseless, Trudeau."
"I know," he confirmed, shooting him a small smile, "I was at the crime scene, remember?"
"Have you talked to Prue?"
He sighed. "Her and her sisters know about it, but I doubt there's a connection here, Morris. It's probably not human, but this shouldn't have to come back on them. Whatever killed Derek Wilkinson wasn't anywhere near-"
"Andy."
"Your initial reaction to this, if I recall, was that it was completely random. Just some kids having a good time, right?"
"It doesn't matter anymore, because we had a witness place a woman there-"
"Does this witness have a name?"
"It was an anonymous tip," he clarified, shrugging.
"Morris, it was dark outside. They could have seen anybody. They could have seen some guy dressed up like the Easter bunny, for all we know."
"Oh, they would've seen this one, Trudeau, trust me."
Andy carefully and politely folded his arms across his chest, as he gave his partner his complete, undivided attention. "And why is that?"
"She didn't have any clothes on."
"Your point?"
Shooting him a slightly perturbed glance, Darryl cleared his throat. "She was nude, man, not a scratch of clothing on her. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada."
"So maybe Wilkinson isn't as innocent as people thought he was. Either way, there are still a number of possibilities to consider here, and I'm going to-"
"You're going to what?" he countered. "End up adding yourself to the list of suspects because you refuse to leave it alone and want to continue testing out your theories? I know it all exists, Andy, but this is your job we're talking about. Internal Affairs would be on you in two minutes flat. They're not going to waste any time bringing you down this time. One thing'll lead to another, and you'll lead them straight to Prue."
"Don't you think I know that? "
"But you don't care."
"I can handle this, Morris."
"Oh really?"
"I just don't think we're looking in the right places."
"Yeah, God help us, it's probably voodoo."
Andy gave his partner a single pat on the shoulder. "I'm going to chalk that up to attempted sarcasm."
"Better yet, I'll go right on over and pick up that fortune teller down the street- bring her in for questioning."
"A lot of good that'll do us, considering the crime's already been committed."
"So what aren't you saying?"
He immediately raised his brows, his countenance suddenly imitating a state of pure disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell you don't."
"Morris, as far as I can tell, we're through having this conversation."
"C'mon, work with me here. You knew they were witches long before I did, and if I would've-"
"You could've saved me from Rodriguez? I sacrificed my life for a good cause. Looking back on it now, I guess you could say I'm proud of it. Prue needed my help, and I gave it to her. End of story."
"You live with her."
Andy feigned surprise, offering a slight chuckle on his behalf. "Which isn't easy, believe me. And yet somehow..." He gave him a quick wink, as he bent down to continue examining the contents still conveniently seated inside the manila folder. "I manage."
"So maybe a little vacation wouldn't be such a bad idea right about now."
"Yeah, and I've had more than a year's worth of it, remember?"
"Trudeau, I'm not messing around here."
"Just admit it, you missed me."
"Like I missed having to deal with this case," Darryl retorted, rolling his eyes.
"So you're still convinced this woman is the one responsible?"
"I think the more important question here is why are you trying so damn hard to discredit her?" he countered, a slight frown creeping up across his features, tainting his expression ever so slightly.
"Am I?"
"Look, no more secrets, right?"
"Did I say that?"
"Andy, we're partners, man."
"I wasn't born yesterday, Morris."
Darryl merely offered a prolonged sigh. "Sometimes I really wonder."
"I don't see wh-" The sound of the phone seated beside the computer on his desk abruptly sliced into the core of his thoughts, ringing twice, before he finally reached out a hand to grab it up, his patience already threatening to wear thin at the unexpected interruption. Quickly clearing his throat, he slid down into the short chair, propping his long legs upon the wood in front of him. "Trudeau."
"You have to get over here."
"Prue?"
"Speak of the devil," Darryl muttered, tiredly running a hand over his hair.
"Andy, we've got trouble."
He waited a beat, already sensing the worst, taking a moment to prepare for it. "Mmm. What is it?"
"She confessed."
He blinked, already somewhat confused by the abruptness in her tone. "Excuse me?"
"She confessed to the whole thing. Mystery solved, down to the last detail."
He shut his blue eyes, his fingers immediately rubbing the bridge of his nose out of habit, as he shifted position with his feet rather slightly. "So let me guess. It was Mrs. Moppenheimer in the conservatory with the knife?"
There was a quick pause. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Funny, I was just about to ask you that same question," he retorted, smiling faintly on his end, well aware she couldn't see him. "A name might be nice."
"Andy."
"And let's not forget motive, opportunity, an-"
"Wilkinson," she cut him off. "It's about Wilkinson."
"Derek Wilkinson?"
"Yeah, and apparently Laurel has a bigge-"
"Hold that thought, will you?"
"Look, Andy, this is serious, alright? We're talking about murd-"
"Oh, I realize that, Prue, which is why I'm going to hang up and get back to you on my cell." He placed the phone back in its cradle as calmly as possible, before he brought his legs down, crossing his fingers neatly upon the desk. He briefly met the gaze of his partner. "Great."
"Can I come?"
"Knock yourself out. I'll tell you one thing right now. We're going to have a hell of a field day with this one."
30 minutes later Cole Turner threw his wife a quick, amused glance, as he lightly waved a hand over the lock on the front entrance, his lips forming an even wider smile, as it slowly clicked open. "And miss out on all the fun?"
"Using magic is just as bad as trespassing without it," she informed him, frowning.
"No," he objected fondly, running a hand over the stubble on his handsome face, "I'd say this is ultimately using personal gain in a good way."
"We're not helping anybody," she argued, hands already on her hips.
"We're helping ourselves and we're helping Laurel," he corrected, "and last time I checked that wasn't exactly considered a crime...especially if we can give her peace this time."
"I guess that would probably mean peace of mind then, hmm?"
"Phoebe."
"Either way, I still don't see what any of this has to do with what happened with her before."
"You wanted to come, didn't you? Even if it's somewhere in the corner of- a part of you must think there's at least something going on here."
"Yeah," she initiated, "a man was murdered, Cole."
"That's right."
"Okay, ha, ha. Make fun of the pregnant woman who seems a little slow on the uptake. I'll have you know that I thought this firm was creepy long before Derek what's his name bit the dust."
"Wilkinson, and thank you so much for sharing."
"And you think Laurel's past bears a connection to his?"
"I'm still thinking more along the lines of someone or something from that past."
"Like who? Or...or what? Do you know how many big bad demons we've knocked off in the past couple of years?"
"Yes, I've kept up with that particular count in my little demonic journal that I carry with me always."
She rolled her eyes, immediately noting his use of sarcasm. "I'm not saying we should win a Pulitzer, I'm just saying that things on her end are starting to get somewhat shady."
"Shady?"
"Suspicious, fishy. Pick one."
"Well, I would, but I don't necessarily agree with you."
"I think she's being controlled."
"Controlled?" He abruptly edged the door free, quickly waving her in, as he followed right behind her, his blue eyes carefully scanning the perimeter around them, making sure they hadn't been spotted. "The only thing that's controlling her, Phoebe, is the guilt she's been feeling from what was done to her forty odd years ago at my hand."
"Yeah, and we never really talked about that in vivid detail with surround sound, did we?" She frowned a moment, pausing, her brown eyes curiously roaming around the lavish environment. "They've recently remodeled in here, huh?"
He merely chuckled to himself. "See what you start to notice when you're not picking apart all the useless facts?"
"They're still facts, aren't they? I mean if she really did kill this guy, how are we supposed to look at her? Murderer, victim, little bit of both?"
"That depends." Cole extended a thumb, easily pushing the button to the elevator in front of them in the lobby. "How do you look at me?"
"I'm not even going there. It's entirely different with her."
"Really?"
"She was a nice, normal girl before she went all split pea soup on Derek. You were raised to learn how to kill, because your mother was never able to consult Sally Jesse or Ricki Lake. And Laurel obviously never had it in her, until she-"
"Met me? Either way you chose to look at this, investigate it, it still all comes back to me."
She reached for his hand, dragging him into the elevator with her, as she watched the doors shut silently in their wake. He indicated the correct floor, as they watched the numbers increase above them, his fingers folding themselves neatly in front of him, as he breathed a soft sigh.
"But Derek wasn't killed the same way that you tortured her, right?"
"I'm not seeing the connection, no."
"So this can't come back on you."
"Phoebe, that...crime was committed years ago- they wouldn't have anything on me now. Nothing. Even if they did, it's not like I'm not atoning for past sins."
"But someone from your past could still try and frame you, right? Another half demon, maybe? Sykes knew of you by reputation. The whole ADA, I'm so evil standpoint."
"Not possible. I've shielded myself well enough, and I've made sur-"
"So you think this might still come back to family."
"Her family? Yes. We've got the mythology angle to work with now."
"I guess this means we won't exactly be getting any time alone then, huh?"
"I beg your pardon?"
The doors opened into a long, dark hallway, greeting them with a narrow, decorative carpet, extending the entire length, its pattern both attractive and rather expensive in appearance. Cole quietly snapped his fingers, watching, as their surroundings became fully submerged in a soft shade of light, a fair number of office doors emerging from the glow. "You know, you don't do that often enough."
"Make some alone time?" he returned, confused.
"Use your powers," she interceded, smiling.
"That was actually part of laying low," he confirmed, giving her a quick wink. "Shielding myself? If we're not in any danger, I don't want to take the chance that using them might draw something right to us."
"I think it already has. It just hasn't targeted you this time."
"Which I'm completely grateful for, believe me."
"So I'm just going to take a wild shot and guess Derek's is the door with all the crime tape plastered on it?"
"Good guess," he added, offering a brief chuckle, as they approached it. "I'm not saying we'll find answers, but it's the least I owe Laurel before the cops get wind of this and try to put her behind bars."
"You know Andy isn't going to allow that. No matter how crazy she is."
"Phoebe."
"Hey, I’m just suggesting-"
"He will if it means following procedure- thereby removing the suspicion on his end."
"And contrary to his home life, it would seem that our Mr. Wilkinson kept his office really...really organized."
Cole nodded, not saying anything, as he picked up the tape, urging her in first, as he ducked in beneath the yellow after her, immediately noting the drawers that hung ajar on the large, wooden desk that cluttered the rather small office space. "I got that impression, too. Which is why I think somebody else already beat our loyal authorities to the punch. Finders keepers, right?"
"Huh?"
"Whatever files were-"
"I thought we just came for the file on him."
"Why stop there? We got through undetected, didn't we?"
"Because the crime didn't happen here," she pointed out, gesturing vaguely about her with one hand.
"Yes, someone obviously knocked him off at his residence, so they'd have time to scope this place out first. There's evidence of foul play here, too. The cops probably left those drawers like that, because it's exactly the way they were when they found them."
"Did I ever tell you how sexy you are when you go all Inspector Turner?"
"So wonderfully noted."
"Who's getting cocky now?"
He grinned. "Confident, right?"
"Right," she concluded, rolling her eyes at him. "Think I might be able to get any premonitions?"
"Just don't tou-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, tough guy."
"Am I missing something here?"
"Huh?"
"If you're suggesting we try and cop a few feels right here in his office, it would be wrong."
"But not completely out of the question."
"Phoebe, I'm not about to disrespect the dead."
"It's just that with everything that's been...no, you know what? Maybe being a Charmed One just doesn't allow for this stuff after awhile. I mean, it's bad enough I took the plunge to begin with."
"I don't regret it, and neither should you."
"Oh, right. Because if it weren't for me, you'd still be out there giving young girl's impure thoughts and killing them."
"Okay, now that was harsh."
"I'm sorry. I just- I miss you, I guess. I've been trying so hard to cope with all of this since it came down on us, and I really want to keep believing in you. I do. It's just...you know I'd never stop, and far be it for me to demand you just lock it all up when it's still screaming there inside of you."
He professed a short sigh, as he walked up to her, gingerly taking her chin in his hand, forcing her to look up at him, softly meeting her gaze. Her heart caught for just a moment, as she lost herself in his impossibly beautiful features, her brown eyes filling with immense warmth. "I'm not going anywhere."
"But you didn't want me to come, and I-"
"It wasn't because I didn't want to be around you."
"I know, but I just can't...I can't get it out of my head, Cole. We've always worked things out together. I realize why this is so personal for you, but I still want to do whatever I can."
"It's personal because of what was done to her."
"And yet you won't say."
"I want to....Phoebe, you have no idea how much I want to. But right now, all I think you need to know is that she was tortured, repeatedly- until I finally killed her. And if it was anyone who should have died that day, it was her father. Anyone with the decency to do good, would have seen that. Dear old dad was a bastard and didn't give a damn about his daughter's welfare. Unfortunately, I wasn't that person, and his dealings made themselves responsible for her life."
"So what are you looking for in here? If it's not Derek's file, what else-"
"A name, a face, anything that might tell us why he was chosen and for what specific purpose."
"Okay, so I'll continue with Nancy Drew and you can be a Hardy boy. But if you wanna be let in on a little secret, a lot of killers don't exactly warrant motive these days. Some just do it because they can."
He tilted his head, fairly amused. "Hardy boy?"
"I keep coming to the conclusion that you probably never watched much tv when you were always out hunting something down."
"I watched my victims die. I guess that's enough."
His comment registered like a slap that cut clear across her face. She winced slightly from the imaginary pain that sliced through her, immediately reaching out a hand to grab his arm. "Cole, I didn't mean it like that. I just-"
"You're wondering how I go day to day, living with all of it." He shrugged, his face struggling to maintain the masked emotion he longed to let out, containing it as best he could. "You saw what the Furies did to me, you probably have a pretty good idea of how many there were."
"But their cries never killed you, and you were more than willing to sacrifice yourself to save Piper and what she'd become."
"Her grief for Prue can't possibly compare to what I'm feeling with Laurel."
"I know that. But you know what? Prue came back, and so did Laurel. They both met violent ends."
"So you think Piper and I should bond now because we're both members of the same club?"
"You're missing the point. You hav-"
"Someone's coming." He abruptly cut her off, taking her hand in his, his line of vision quickly scanning the room, entirely alert. His eyes lingered near the doorway, settling on it, desperately needing to see out into the hallway again.
"Wait. What? What are you talking about?"
"Stay close to me."
"Why? What are you going to do?"
"Remember that time I turned Darryl into a water cooler?"
"Uh, no...no, somehow that one escapes me. Should I?" Her voice had grown rather shrill without her knowledge, the fear already grasping faintly at the edges. "Cole?"
"Just trust me."
"Yeah, that's always the thing, isn't it? Trust. Like I trusted you to take our daughter on a field trip and I ended up fighting you in some kind of cave when you pretended to be evil. Or hey. What about the freaky ship with your mom and big bad old monster on it? Remember that, hmm? Anyway, I don't see why we just don't shimmer ou-"
"Because I'm not done yet, okay? I have a feeling there's still something here."
"Yeah. A conceited lawyer who probably stuck around for the big bucks and giving all the available women the best night of their lives."
"Phoebe, I'm serious."
"Oh, I just bet you are."
He only smiled, his scruffy countenance alert, and yet becoming strangely calm. "You keep that up, I'm going to have to kiss you."
"Like I haven't heard that one before." Her other hand lightly grazed the wall, as she followed him to the very back of the small room, her shaky fingertips absentmindedly clinging to the solid surface of the wall, trying hard to keep her balance. At first, she thought it was just her mind running wild with her, the fear both consuming and beginning to frighten her, as she lingered behind him in trying to find a place to conceal themselves. But when that same wall suddenly gave way, literally caving in against her weight, she found herself thrown onto a hard, dirt surface, the blackness almost too much to bare, as her fingernails gathered the soft, damp substance beneath them, digging deep into the vacant crevices. She immediately cried out, her eyes widening as a hand clasped down over her mouth, pulling her out of view so that not even the biggest shadows remained. The solitary spot that had so intricately moved only moments ago had already sealed itself firmly in place, leaving them helpless on the other side. She could see nothing but a deep, intensified blackness, lurking in what appeared to be an equally vivid amount of emptiness. Her breath caught in her throat, as she realized the other hand that was not slanted directly over her mouth, had an all too familiar touch, the beating of her heart increasing ever so slightly the minute her senses fully registered its placement. She reached down and slowly pulled it off her chest, turning around to look at Cole, his demeanor oddly playful, and yet just as overcome as hers by the sudden bout of movement that had tossed them both into oblivion, tainted with utter puzzlement.
"I told you not to touch anything, didn't I?" he whispered.
"Oh, that's easy for you to say. I wasn't the one groping your breast."
"I meant to reach fo- I don't have breasts."
"Man breasts, okay?" He could make out her hands going to her hips, her full lips forming a firm line, as she began to grow somewhat frustrated. "Point in fact, I didn't touch anything."
He very nearly laughed. "Something always goes wrong when you touch something."
"Hey, I haven't broken off any of your important parts yet, have I? Family jewels still intact?"
He raised an eyebrow, still struggling to keep a straight face. "I don't mean that kind of touching."
"Well, you sure meant that kind of touching five seconds ago."
"I didn't mean to. I was aiming for-"
"So office touching bad, bedroom touching good?"
"I am not discussing this with you right now."
"I'm not saying I didn't like it, I'm just saying...God, we're in so much trouble right now, aren't we?"
"It depends on what you mean by trouble. Because it appears our friend Derek was apparently into more than meets the eye."
"Yeah, see, I really don't think he brought girls down here for a good time. The jerk was probably into sacrificing virgins or something. Cozy little hideaway and nobody would ever find the bodies. No wonder somebody beat him to death."
"Phoebe."
"Well, c'mon. Why else would anybody go through all the trouble to have such a clever cover. Lawyer, my ass."
"Quiet."
"I'm just saying..."
"They're here."
"Oh. Gotcha." She mockingly drew together the index finger and her thumb, pulling them across her mouth.
But the only thing that remained in the air was an uneventful bout of silence.
Then a low growl cut cleanly through the dense blackness.
"Cole?"
"Hmm?" She could barely make out his profile, but she was almost sure he wasn't looking behind him.
"I don't think it's out there," she quietly murmured. "I think it's in here."
"See? There's nobody here. Let's go home."