"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime.
Say the word, and I will follow you.
Share each day with me, each night, each morning.
Anywhere you go, let me go too.
Love me. That's all I ask of you."
The Phantom of the Opera
***
Lightning flickered in the distance as Horatio drove the Hummer across town to Hagen's house. He did not like what he was about to do. Still, it was the only way. Normal CSI procedures, gathering the evidence, building the puzzle would not work here. There was no evidence that could not be interpreted two ways. Horatio was positive, but his word wasn't enough, and the proof simply wasn't there. The only possible chance was to force a confrontation, to trap Hagen into something that would stand up in court. He pulled the Hummer up to the curb in front of Hagen's house, then, after a final second's consideration, deliberately removed his gun from his belt, sticking it under the seat. Unarmed, he headed up the sidewalk, listening to the low rumble of thunder. A storm was coming, a big storm, announcing its presence well in advance.
Hagen opened the door with a welcome that he didn't feel. He had no idea why Horatio wanted to talk to him tonight, but merely the presence of the man had always made him uneasy. Hagen, with his clean cut good looks, his football player build, his ambitions, was the picture of the All American cop. He played on that image, enjoying the recognition that it gave him, relishing the veiled power of the department visible behind him. People were always impressed with him, and he enjoyed impressing them. But in Horatio, he had run into a stronger force, someone who carried more influence than himself, professionally and every other way that mattered. Always, deep down, Horatio scared him. And Hagen wasn't used to being scared. "Horatio, good to see you," he said, backing away automatically as Horatio entered. "Nice to have you back on the job again."
"Thank you." The reply was meaningless. Horatio actually looked a bit on edge tonight, unusually ruffled. His attention was on something besides social pleasantries. "Shall we sit down?" Naturally as breathing, Horatio assumed the lead, even though he was in Hagen's house, and led the way to the chairs. Hagen unwillingly followed him, hating himself for following so meekly.
Once they were seated, Horatio settled back and steepled his fingers. "I wanted to talk to you about that case with Chaz a few months ago. You remember that one?"
"Sure," said Hagen. "Hard to forget the team almost being blown sky high. Tripp told me about that one."
"Some new evidence has turned up this week, and I wanted to discuss it with you before the trial comes on." Horatio was now as smooth and assured as Hagen had ever seen him. Had that first impression been wrong? "I think we may have the motive behind that explosion all wrong."
"What do you mean? The bomb was set on a trip device. He was after the police working the scene. No question."
"I'm not so sure anymore that he was after all of us, though. I think he was aiming for one person and just didn't care who else he took out in the process. I've looked up the records. Someone switched duties with Tripp that morning. Someone was supposed to be on call but didn't want to take that one. Chaz couldn't know the change. But there was one person who should have been on the first response team that Chaz was afraid of, wasn't there, B.A.?" As he spoke, Horatio's eyes dropped to Hagen's hands, and he saw them clench suddenly, the knuckles going white, then forcing themselves to relax. Hagen's expression never faltered, but people who school their face so well often forget their hands, and Horatio had caught his first reaction. Guilty! If he had had any doubts, they were gone now.
"I don't know what you mean." He couldn't know. There was no proof. Hagen had spent sleepless nights worrying about Horatio back at the time of the case, but he knew there was no proof. If there had been, Horatio would have been here months ago.
"You sold out the department, didn't you? For over two years, you took a cut from the gang for protection. But then Ray was assigned to the case, and he started to wonder why that gang had never been hit. Every rival in the neighborhood, but never that one. You set him up. And after he was killed, you kept on taking your cut from the gang, and you kept the rumors alive in the department. No reason to try him after he was dead, but if anyone ever questioned things, Ray was there to take the fall." Horatio's voice was low, but for the first time Hagen could remember, the control was obvious, the strain of keeping himself reined in visible. Somehow, it made him even more frightening. Barely held rage could go rampant in a heartbeat.
"Horatio," said Hagen, trying to school his own voice into calm, "Ray was my partner. I could never betray my partner."
"Benedict Arnold." The nickname came out like a shot from a gun. "From the beginning, before you ever partnered with Ray, you betrayed the force. And you knew it. You even picked the name yourself. Why, Hagen?" The eyes captured Hagen's, and the detective looked down, unable to face that blue fire.
Horatio continued. "And for two years after Ray's death, you kept on taking your cut. Until Chaz finally got tired of it. Was he just scared because you knew too much? Or did you raise your demands? Why did he decide to take you out?"
"He. . . " Hagen caught himself after the one word, clamping his teeth together. Horatio stood up and started pacing around the room, with those tight reins still visible. And something else visible, too. Hagen abruptly noticed that Horatio was still favoring the left leg slightly, not entirely sound yet. He lifted his eyes then, studying Horatio, who was no longer looking at him. That long scar was still plainly visible down the side of his face. Hagen had heard the story. Everyone in the department had heard the story. Horatio had been critically injured, nearly killed, when he was hit on the side of the head by a piece of the falling bridge. Seven hours of brain surgery, the story went. How long ago had that been? Six weeks? Seven, maybe, but no more. This was his first week back. He wasn't totally healed yet. He was here alone. And Hagen now realized that he was unarmed.
"So what was your cut?" Horatio had stopped near the window, staring out at the lightning. The storm was getting closer.
"10 percent." Hagen abruptly dropped the pretense. Slowly, he got to his feet, trying to appear casual. Horatio did not look at him, apparently intent on watching the storm. Hagen's own gun was in his bedroom, in the nightstand, out of reach, but a gun was too traceable, anyway. Calleigh would piece that one together in two seconds. Hagen crossed idly to his fireplace. It was only decorative, this being Miami, but there was a set of pokers there, exactly like hundreds of other sets sold at Wal-Mart.
"Did you ask for more? He was trying to get you, you know. That whole explosion was for you. The rest of us were just a bonus. He couldn't know it would be Tripp instead." Horatio turned from the window and crossed to the other one, looking out toward the street.
"I asked for 15%. It was nothing to him. Do you have any idea how much money he was making in a day?" Hagen picked up the poker carefully, silently, and started across the room slowly, the poker behind his back.
Horatio's tone was icy. "Do you have any idea how many lives he demolished in a day? Relatives, families, the people themselves. No money in the world would be enough. Did you ever even think about the people, Hagen? About Ray? Ever had it eat at your conscience in the middle of the night?" He turned, and headed back for the other window, the one that looked toward the storm. Hagen crept closer, steeling his muscles, eying that long scar marking the original point of impact perfectly for him. One good crack along the right side of his head, and Horatio would never scare him again.
"I admit, it crossed my mind a few times. But you don't understand what money can do, Horatio. It buys a lot of peace." Hagen tightened his grip on the poker and leaped, and Horatio, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, darted sideways the instant before impact. The blow from the poker smashed on a side table with splitting force, breaking the wood neatly in two pieces. Hagen whipped the poker back up, aiming for a second blow. So it would take two. Fine. Even forewarned, Horatio couldn't escape him. He had already stumbled slightly in his original dodge. His ankle wouldn't hold up to quick maneuvering. Hagen stepped forward. Horatio did not step back. He was pinned now, between the couch and the wall, nowhere to go but back. He stood his ground. "Back down, damn you." Hagen suddenly wanted to see Horatio cringe. "Isn't there anything you're afraid of? You can't possibly take me." Horatio still refused to back away, and Hagen brought the poker down with all the hatred and all the fear he had ever felt for this man. Even as he started the blow, Horatio did the one thing Hagen hadn't expected. He charged, hitting Hagen around the midsection, and they both fell over as the poker clattered harmlessly onto the floor.
"Freeze, Hagen!" Adele Sevilla's voice cracked like a shot as she came crashing through the door, gun up and ready. Horatio got to his feet slowly. Hagen stayed on the floor, staring straight down the barrel of her police special. Where the hell did she come from? Two other detectives poured through the door behind her. "John Hagen, you're under arrest."
"You'll never prove this!" Hagen glared at Horatio. "You haven't got a single piece of hard evidence."
"You're wrong," said Horatio, unbuttoning his shirt. "I was wearing a wire the whole time, and Adele has everything on tape. I think it's enough to qualify as a confession, don't you?"
"Sounded like a confession to me," Adele agreed.
"And even if we can't get the charges in Chaz's case to stick, we've got you dead to rights on another one. No attorney in Florida could get you off."
"What's that?"
"Attempted murder of a police officer," said Adele. "You want to press charges, Horatio?"
"Absolutely," he said. "That's a serious offense, Hagen. Same charge Chaz is facing. Maybe you can talk it over in prison together."
Prison. The thought of being in prison, in the open population, along with the people he had taken down as a cop on one hand and the people he had charged for protection as a bad cop on the other, did what nothing else in his life had done. Hagen broke wide open. "You can't put me in prison. Not with all of them." He was pleading unashamedly. "I've got information. I can cut a deal. You've got to help me."
Horatio stared at him, the man who had betrayed Ray, babbling like a child for mercy. "Get him out of here," he said abruptly, and crossed back over to the window, looking at the lightning again. He heard the cuffs click into place behind him, the low murmur of the Miranda warning, which of course Hagen knew already. The two other detectives left with Hagen between them, and Adele came up quietly to stand beside Horatio.
"That was a big chance you took," she said.
"No choice. I knew the evidence wasn't there. We had to have an iron clad case for something."
"I really had trouble keeping the boys back, you know. They wanted to come in as soon as he confessed."
"It's better this way," said Horatio wearily. "He'll never get off, now."
"You realize that he probably will cut a deal, though." Adele's voice was sympathetic.
"Yes. Our wonderful system. He will wind up doing some time, at least. Attempted murder of an officer is a serious offense. And prison ought to be quite educational for him." He turned away from the window a bit too quickly and stumbled slightly. His ankle was protesting its treatment tonight.
"Are you alright?"
"Just tired." Horatio wondered if he should have business cards printed up that read "I'm fine, damn it!" and start handing them out to everyone who asked him that question. Still, he couldn't really be annoyed with Adele. She had backed him up without hesitation tonight, when he had no real evidence to offer her. "Thank you, Adele. For everything."
"I'm glad I could help." She was. She was better off, every officer on the force was better off, with Hagen exposed. She watched Horatio head for the door, smiling at his back, realizing how much she had, in fact, missed him. "H!" He turned around, the eyes questioning, and she smiled at him. "It's good to have you back."
He straightened up slightly. "It's good to be back. Good night, Adele." He left the house and headed for the Hummer. The lightning was closer, but the storm hadn't broken yet.
***
Horatio drove across town with only one thought left in his mind. Calleigh. He needed her presence to wash the taste of Hagen out of his spirit, needed her pure goodness and dedication to soothe the wound left by a fellow officer's betrayal. More than anything, he just needed to be held, to feel her arms around him. Such strong arms, for such a slight body. Plenty of room to hide in.
He pulled around the corner to her block and nearly brought the Hummer to a halt in the middle of the street. In front of her apartment building was the rental car Peter was driving, as well as Delko's, Speed's, and Calleigh's own. They were all here with her, supporting her after her father's death. Her father. For the past four hours, Horatio had not given a single thought to her father. She had just been through his funeral, and Horatio had only been thinking of his own need as he drove over. He would not inflict himself on her tonight. She deserved comfort herself, and he felt absolutely too battered to give it. At least she wasn't alone. The rest of the team was here for her. A car behind the Hummer honked impatiently, and Horatio let his foot off the brake and drove on into the darkness.
***
Calleigh had unashamedly given her mother a bottle of wine the minute they got into her apartment, and Mrs. Hayes, while not yet unconscious, was certainly past the stage of active participation in the conversation. She had gradually melted back into the couch, and the others talked over her as if she weren't there. The others, Calleigh thought warmly. Alexx had stayed with her family, but Speed and Eric were here with her. They probably would have been anyway, even if Horatio had not told them to stay with her. Calleigh's heart skipped a beat as she remembered how, in the absolute heat of the chase, finally knowing the answer to the one case that haunted him above all others, he had taken time out to think of her, to make sure she would not be alone.
The three men spoke easily to each other, gradually getting acquainted. Peter was much more relaxed with her two friends than he had been with Horatio. He knows they're "just friends," she thought. Just friends, as if that weren't enough. She thanked God for them both right now. At least she didn't have to deal with her mother alone, or only with Peter, which was nearly the same thing.
Mrs. Hayes stirred suddenly. "Horatio," she said, tripping over the name. "Where did he go?"
"He's working, Mother," said Calleigh. "Why don't you get to bed now?" While you can still walk a bit on your own.
"Looks like H has a fan," said Eric.
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," said Speed. "Come on, Calleigh, let's get her to bed." He grabbed one arm, and Calleigh took the other, walking Mrs. Hayes unsteadily down the hall.
"I'm sorry," said Peter, suddenly feeling like he should apologize for his family.
"Hey, man, no one gets to choose their parents." Eric smiled at him. "You've got a winner for a sister, though."
"I sure do," Peter agreed. Speed and Calleigh returned. Speed settled down in his chair again, but Calleigh stayed on her feet, walking over to the window, looking out at the lightning in the distance.
"Storm coming," she said casually, and turned back from the window to meet three sets of eyes that weren't at all casual.
"I'm sure he's alright," said Speed.
"H. knows what he's doing," Eric agreed.
"I know he does. But he still isn't totally recovered, you know." Her worry went beyond that. Not just his body, but his spirit. Whatever happened with Ray's case, it would rake Horatio over the coals.
"What happened to him?" asked Peter. "He told me he hit a piece of concrete." Speed actually sat up straight, and Eric choked over a swallow of his Diet Coke. Without a word, Calleigh walked over to her desk, pulling out a paper from last Sunday, the one with "Miami Honors Horatio Caine" splashed across the front page. She tossed it into Peter's lap.
"Hit a piece of concrete," snorted Speed. "H never lies, but he can tell the truth with a lot of imagination, sometimes." With growing respect, Peter read the story reviewing the bridge collapse, and for the first time, he started to understand Calleigh's comment about her being good enough for him.
"Why don't you give him a call? Just to see what he's doing," suggested Eric. "I doubt he'd mind."
Calleigh had already thought of that and discarded the idea several times. She didn't want to distract him from something critical. Still, it was a lot harder to toss the idea aside at 10:30 than it had been at 7:00. She took out her cell phone and looked at it, hesitating.
"It won't dial itself," said Speed.
Calleigh took the plunge, hit the buttons, then listened to the recording with growing alarm.
"What is it?" Eric didn't like the expression on her face.
"His cell phone isn't turned on."
"What?" Speed couldn't believe it. None of them could. Horatio was absolutely roped to his cell phone, reachable anywhere, anytime, on call 24/7. For him to deliberately turn it off was unprecedented.
Calleigh tried to sort through her own thoughts. Simply having the phone not answered might mean he was in physical danger, but if it had been turned off, Horatio had done it himself, deliberately. And if he would go to that length to avoid talking to anyone, he definitely needed some company. The case must be over, one way or another. He would never take himself out of the loop with it still open. But her concern was greater, if anything. She faced her friends. "Eric, Tim, would you guys go try to find him? Just to make sure he's alright?" They both started to stand up, but Peter's voice stopped them halfway.
"No, why don't you go, Calleigh?" She turned toward him, and he stopped her protest halfway. "I'll stay here and look after Mother. You've done more than your share of that, anyway. Go find him, Calleigh. Go on."
Calleigh looked at him for a long moment. Her brother. Who had run away and left her. Who had now come back. She walked across and kissed him suddenly. "Peter," she said, "I forgive you." She grabbed her car keys and bolted for the door.
***
Calleigh went to his house first, and the Hummer was there. She let herself in with her key, but she knew the minute she stepped in that the house was empty. He had been here, though. The light in the kitchen was on, and on the table was the photo album she had given him, open halfway through, as if he had been looking through its pages again. Well, that was why she had given it to him. She never wanted him to question his influence on the world again. Still, he hadn't found the answers there tonight. He had left it abruptly, still open. She crossed to the back sliding door, looking out through the glass toward the beach. Dark seascape streaked with lightning. He was out there somewhere. She could feel him. She opened the door and stepped out into the freshening breeze as thunder rumbled overhead.
***
Horatio sat on the sand with his back propped against a rock, listening to the tide, watching the storm roll in. He let his mind track out the patterns, tracing all the nuances of nature. This was why he loved the ocean. So awe-inspiring, relentless, powerful, yet it could be explained. The patterns were there, even the patterns of violence, like the hurricanes. They could be studied, respected, understood. The lightning overhead was not frightening, just powerful. Much more powerful than he was, but that did not bother him. He understood it.
But he would never be able to understand how a fellow officer, someone sworn to help the people, could be such a traitor. That level of deceit scrambled Horatio's world. He understood the criminals, even Chaz, who made no pretense about what he was. But how could someone live such a lie? It did not make sense. And Horatio desperately needed the world to make sense. It was what he lived by.
Warm hands suddenly grasped his shoulders. "Horatio." He started to scramble to his feet, and she stopped him, folding her own body down beside his instead. She wound both arms around him, holding him tightly, and he leaned against her, closing his eyes, trying to draw order and peace from her presence. It was 20 minutes before he said anything, and she did not push, simply holding him, stroking his hair softly. When he was ready to talk, he would.
"It's over," he said finally.
"Is it?" He caught the flash of her eyes in the dark. Good old Calleigh, ready to slay any dragons left who needed slaying.
"Yes. It's over." He straightened up slightly. "It was Hagen."
Somehow, she wasn't surprised. "I never really trusted him."
"Really?"
"Really. He would always slip in sideways comments about you. Like once, he said he hoped you knew what you were doing. I said you'd been doing it a long time, and he said he hoped you got to keep doing it. Another time, he tried to tell me you walked a lonely road."
"That much is true."
"You've been alone too much in life, Horatio. But you aren't alone anymore. Don't ever forget that." She pulled his head over against her chest again. He was still tense. "What is it then, if it's over?"
He sighed. "I just don't understand it. How can anybody be such a traitor? And it never showed. Little hints, in retrospect, yes, but if it weren't for Susie, he'd still be walking around as a cop, and I wouldn't know."
Calleigh felt an absurd urge to laugh, quickly repressed. "Horatio, you can't understand everything. You can't know everybody. No one can."
He pulled away, looking at her. "I have to try. It's the only way the world makes sense."
She took a moment to choose her words. How could she soothe him? "You see more sense in the world than anyone else I've met. But Horatio, you can't see it all. There's too much there. There are things beyond our ability to explain. Like traitors. You could try all your life, and you will never understand that. You're too honest to understand it." He considered, but he still didn't quite look convinced. Try another example, then. "But there are good things you can't explain, too. Beyond any category. They're still real. Like love." She hugged him suddenly, fiercely. "I love you, Horatio. And you're never going to be able to sort out everything I mean by that. You can try the rest of your life, and you won't see it all."
His expression lightened suddenly. She felt some of the tension leave him, and he hugged her back. "I love you too, Calleigh. More than I can explain. You're right."
She asked him then, because she had to. "Then why didn't you come to me tonight?"
"I wanted to. But you'd just been through your father's funeral. You were with your family."
She was angry suddenly. "My family? Biologically, maybe. You are my family, Horatio. Don't you see, I'd rather be with you than them, especially if you needed me." There was a slight question in the last words, and he heard it.
"I needed you. I just wasn't sure I had the right."
Sometimes she honestly wanted to hit him. "Horatio Caine, get it through your thick head. I want to share whatever you're going through with you. Good and bad. Anytime you need me, you let me know. Anytime at all. Don't make me hunt you down again."
He smiled suddenly, and she heard the smile in his voice. "I bet you would, though."
"Damn right. I told you before, you aren't getting rid of me. And that's something in the world that you won't ever be able to explain."
He wrapped his arms around her suddenly, and the strength of his grip almost took her breath away. Calleigh, he thought. Absolutely unexplainable, like she had said. What a precious gift in life. He suddenly remembered his original plans for last Monday but momentarily shoved them aside. She just went to her father's funeral today, he told himself. She felt his retreat. "What is it, Horatio?"
To hell with waiting for perfect moments. Time to start manufacturing some. He reached into his pocket, finding the small box he had carried with him all through this week. "Calleigh," he started, and a huge lightning bolt split the sky directly overhead. The rain suddenly started, coming down in sheets, instantly drenching both of them. "Come on, give me a break, would you," he shouted suddenly toward the sky, and Calleigh burst out laughing.
"Come on, Horatio, let's get inside before we drown." She stood up, but he stayed where he was.
"No way. I'm not stirring a step until you tell me something."
"What's that?" Thunder rumbled around them, and the next lightning bolt lit his eyes, letting her see his face completely. He half raised himself to his knees.
"Calleigh, will you marry me?"
She collapsed back down onto the sand with him. "Yes. Oh, yes. I haven't wanted anything else for two years." He slipped the ring on her finger, and she held it out, letting the lightning reflect in it.
"Neither have I." He wrapped her against him, and suddenly it was a perfect moment. Even with the thunder, and the lightning, and the pounding rain. This fits us better, she thought. Flowers and candlelight are too routine for us. She kissed him, and he answered the pressure of her lips on his own with increasing passion. And her cell phone rang.
Horatio broke away from her, collapsing onto the sand, helpless with laughter. She pulled the phone out, trying to shelter it with her hand. "Duquesne." And this had better be good.
"Calleigh?" It was Adele. "I can't get hold of H, and Speed said you went to find him. Is he with you?"
"Sure, just a sec." She passed the phone to Horatio. "It's Adele." She stood admiring her ring in the lightning. It was absolutely gorgeous out here. The rest of my life, she thought, whenever there's a storm, I'll remember this night.
Horatio snapped the phone shut and returned it to her. "I have to go down to the police station to make a statement. They want it before they finish processing Hagen." He started to scramble up, and she helped him, realizing for the first time that his ankle was bothering him again.
"Make a statement about what?"
"Long story. I'll tell you on the way. Come with me?"
"Anywhere." She looped her arm through his. "First, though, I'll wrap that ankle for you again. We'd better change clothes, too." They looked at each other and both burst out laughing. Wet and caked with sand, they looked more like beached sea monsters than professionals. "But about the future, there's just one problem, Horatio."
"What's that?" He stopped, concerned.
"How on earth are we ever going to manage to have kids?"
He smiled. "Once in a while, we'll just both have to turn our phones off. And I promise you, I won't even take mine on our honeymoon."
"Deal. I won't take mine either." She kissed him again, a warm promise of things to come. Then they walked up the beach hand in hand to his house.
The Phantom of the Opera
***
Lightning flickered in the distance as Horatio drove the Hummer across town to Hagen's house. He did not like what he was about to do. Still, it was the only way. Normal CSI procedures, gathering the evidence, building the puzzle would not work here. There was no evidence that could not be interpreted two ways. Horatio was positive, but his word wasn't enough, and the proof simply wasn't there. The only possible chance was to force a confrontation, to trap Hagen into something that would stand up in court. He pulled the Hummer up to the curb in front of Hagen's house, then, after a final second's consideration, deliberately removed his gun from his belt, sticking it under the seat. Unarmed, he headed up the sidewalk, listening to the low rumble of thunder. A storm was coming, a big storm, announcing its presence well in advance.
Hagen opened the door with a welcome that he didn't feel. He had no idea why Horatio wanted to talk to him tonight, but merely the presence of the man had always made him uneasy. Hagen, with his clean cut good looks, his football player build, his ambitions, was the picture of the All American cop. He played on that image, enjoying the recognition that it gave him, relishing the veiled power of the department visible behind him. People were always impressed with him, and he enjoyed impressing them. But in Horatio, he had run into a stronger force, someone who carried more influence than himself, professionally and every other way that mattered. Always, deep down, Horatio scared him. And Hagen wasn't used to being scared. "Horatio, good to see you," he said, backing away automatically as Horatio entered. "Nice to have you back on the job again."
"Thank you." The reply was meaningless. Horatio actually looked a bit on edge tonight, unusually ruffled. His attention was on something besides social pleasantries. "Shall we sit down?" Naturally as breathing, Horatio assumed the lead, even though he was in Hagen's house, and led the way to the chairs. Hagen unwillingly followed him, hating himself for following so meekly.
Once they were seated, Horatio settled back and steepled his fingers. "I wanted to talk to you about that case with Chaz a few months ago. You remember that one?"
"Sure," said Hagen. "Hard to forget the team almost being blown sky high. Tripp told me about that one."
"Some new evidence has turned up this week, and I wanted to discuss it with you before the trial comes on." Horatio was now as smooth and assured as Hagen had ever seen him. Had that first impression been wrong? "I think we may have the motive behind that explosion all wrong."
"What do you mean? The bomb was set on a trip device. He was after the police working the scene. No question."
"I'm not so sure anymore that he was after all of us, though. I think he was aiming for one person and just didn't care who else he took out in the process. I've looked up the records. Someone switched duties with Tripp that morning. Someone was supposed to be on call but didn't want to take that one. Chaz couldn't know the change. But there was one person who should have been on the first response team that Chaz was afraid of, wasn't there, B.A.?" As he spoke, Horatio's eyes dropped to Hagen's hands, and he saw them clench suddenly, the knuckles going white, then forcing themselves to relax. Hagen's expression never faltered, but people who school their face so well often forget their hands, and Horatio had caught his first reaction. Guilty! If he had had any doubts, they were gone now.
"I don't know what you mean." He couldn't know. There was no proof. Hagen had spent sleepless nights worrying about Horatio back at the time of the case, but he knew there was no proof. If there had been, Horatio would have been here months ago.
"You sold out the department, didn't you? For over two years, you took a cut from the gang for protection. But then Ray was assigned to the case, and he started to wonder why that gang had never been hit. Every rival in the neighborhood, but never that one. You set him up. And after he was killed, you kept on taking your cut from the gang, and you kept the rumors alive in the department. No reason to try him after he was dead, but if anyone ever questioned things, Ray was there to take the fall." Horatio's voice was low, but for the first time Hagen could remember, the control was obvious, the strain of keeping himself reined in visible. Somehow, it made him even more frightening. Barely held rage could go rampant in a heartbeat.
"Horatio," said Hagen, trying to school his own voice into calm, "Ray was my partner. I could never betray my partner."
"Benedict Arnold." The nickname came out like a shot from a gun. "From the beginning, before you ever partnered with Ray, you betrayed the force. And you knew it. You even picked the name yourself. Why, Hagen?" The eyes captured Hagen's, and the detective looked down, unable to face that blue fire.
Horatio continued. "And for two years after Ray's death, you kept on taking your cut. Until Chaz finally got tired of it. Was he just scared because you knew too much? Or did you raise your demands? Why did he decide to take you out?"
"He. . . " Hagen caught himself after the one word, clamping his teeth together. Horatio stood up and started pacing around the room, with those tight reins still visible. And something else visible, too. Hagen abruptly noticed that Horatio was still favoring the left leg slightly, not entirely sound yet. He lifted his eyes then, studying Horatio, who was no longer looking at him. That long scar was still plainly visible down the side of his face. Hagen had heard the story. Everyone in the department had heard the story. Horatio had been critically injured, nearly killed, when he was hit on the side of the head by a piece of the falling bridge. Seven hours of brain surgery, the story went. How long ago had that been? Six weeks? Seven, maybe, but no more. This was his first week back. He wasn't totally healed yet. He was here alone. And Hagen now realized that he was unarmed.
"So what was your cut?" Horatio had stopped near the window, staring out at the lightning. The storm was getting closer.
"10 percent." Hagen abruptly dropped the pretense. Slowly, he got to his feet, trying to appear casual. Horatio did not look at him, apparently intent on watching the storm. Hagen's own gun was in his bedroom, in the nightstand, out of reach, but a gun was too traceable, anyway. Calleigh would piece that one together in two seconds. Hagen crossed idly to his fireplace. It was only decorative, this being Miami, but there was a set of pokers there, exactly like hundreds of other sets sold at Wal-Mart.
"Did you ask for more? He was trying to get you, you know. That whole explosion was for you. The rest of us were just a bonus. He couldn't know it would be Tripp instead." Horatio turned from the window and crossed to the other one, looking out toward the street.
"I asked for 15%. It was nothing to him. Do you have any idea how much money he was making in a day?" Hagen picked up the poker carefully, silently, and started across the room slowly, the poker behind his back.
Horatio's tone was icy. "Do you have any idea how many lives he demolished in a day? Relatives, families, the people themselves. No money in the world would be enough. Did you ever even think about the people, Hagen? About Ray? Ever had it eat at your conscience in the middle of the night?" He turned, and headed back for the other window, the one that looked toward the storm. Hagen crept closer, steeling his muscles, eying that long scar marking the original point of impact perfectly for him. One good crack along the right side of his head, and Horatio would never scare him again.
"I admit, it crossed my mind a few times. But you don't understand what money can do, Horatio. It buys a lot of peace." Hagen tightened his grip on the poker and leaped, and Horatio, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, darted sideways the instant before impact. The blow from the poker smashed on a side table with splitting force, breaking the wood neatly in two pieces. Hagen whipped the poker back up, aiming for a second blow. So it would take two. Fine. Even forewarned, Horatio couldn't escape him. He had already stumbled slightly in his original dodge. His ankle wouldn't hold up to quick maneuvering. Hagen stepped forward. Horatio did not step back. He was pinned now, between the couch and the wall, nowhere to go but back. He stood his ground. "Back down, damn you." Hagen suddenly wanted to see Horatio cringe. "Isn't there anything you're afraid of? You can't possibly take me." Horatio still refused to back away, and Hagen brought the poker down with all the hatred and all the fear he had ever felt for this man. Even as he started the blow, Horatio did the one thing Hagen hadn't expected. He charged, hitting Hagen around the midsection, and they both fell over as the poker clattered harmlessly onto the floor.
"Freeze, Hagen!" Adele Sevilla's voice cracked like a shot as she came crashing through the door, gun up and ready. Horatio got to his feet slowly. Hagen stayed on the floor, staring straight down the barrel of her police special. Where the hell did she come from? Two other detectives poured through the door behind her. "John Hagen, you're under arrest."
"You'll never prove this!" Hagen glared at Horatio. "You haven't got a single piece of hard evidence."
"You're wrong," said Horatio, unbuttoning his shirt. "I was wearing a wire the whole time, and Adele has everything on tape. I think it's enough to qualify as a confession, don't you?"
"Sounded like a confession to me," Adele agreed.
"And even if we can't get the charges in Chaz's case to stick, we've got you dead to rights on another one. No attorney in Florida could get you off."
"What's that?"
"Attempted murder of a police officer," said Adele. "You want to press charges, Horatio?"
"Absolutely," he said. "That's a serious offense, Hagen. Same charge Chaz is facing. Maybe you can talk it over in prison together."
Prison. The thought of being in prison, in the open population, along with the people he had taken down as a cop on one hand and the people he had charged for protection as a bad cop on the other, did what nothing else in his life had done. Hagen broke wide open. "You can't put me in prison. Not with all of them." He was pleading unashamedly. "I've got information. I can cut a deal. You've got to help me."
Horatio stared at him, the man who had betrayed Ray, babbling like a child for mercy. "Get him out of here," he said abruptly, and crossed back over to the window, looking at the lightning again. He heard the cuffs click into place behind him, the low murmur of the Miranda warning, which of course Hagen knew already. The two other detectives left with Hagen between them, and Adele came up quietly to stand beside Horatio.
"That was a big chance you took," she said.
"No choice. I knew the evidence wasn't there. We had to have an iron clad case for something."
"I really had trouble keeping the boys back, you know. They wanted to come in as soon as he confessed."
"It's better this way," said Horatio wearily. "He'll never get off, now."
"You realize that he probably will cut a deal, though." Adele's voice was sympathetic.
"Yes. Our wonderful system. He will wind up doing some time, at least. Attempted murder of an officer is a serious offense. And prison ought to be quite educational for him." He turned away from the window a bit too quickly and stumbled slightly. His ankle was protesting its treatment tonight.
"Are you alright?"
"Just tired." Horatio wondered if he should have business cards printed up that read "I'm fine, damn it!" and start handing them out to everyone who asked him that question. Still, he couldn't really be annoyed with Adele. She had backed him up without hesitation tonight, when he had no real evidence to offer her. "Thank you, Adele. For everything."
"I'm glad I could help." She was. She was better off, every officer on the force was better off, with Hagen exposed. She watched Horatio head for the door, smiling at his back, realizing how much she had, in fact, missed him. "H!" He turned around, the eyes questioning, and she smiled at him. "It's good to have you back."
He straightened up slightly. "It's good to be back. Good night, Adele." He left the house and headed for the Hummer. The lightning was closer, but the storm hadn't broken yet.
***
Horatio drove across town with only one thought left in his mind. Calleigh. He needed her presence to wash the taste of Hagen out of his spirit, needed her pure goodness and dedication to soothe the wound left by a fellow officer's betrayal. More than anything, he just needed to be held, to feel her arms around him. Such strong arms, for such a slight body. Plenty of room to hide in.
He pulled around the corner to her block and nearly brought the Hummer to a halt in the middle of the street. In front of her apartment building was the rental car Peter was driving, as well as Delko's, Speed's, and Calleigh's own. They were all here with her, supporting her after her father's death. Her father. For the past four hours, Horatio had not given a single thought to her father. She had just been through his funeral, and Horatio had only been thinking of his own need as he drove over. He would not inflict himself on her tonight. She deserved comfort herself, and he felt absolutely too battered to give it. At least she wasn't alone. The rest of the team was here for her. A car behind the Hummer honked impatiently, and Horatio let his foot off the brake and drove on into the darkness.
***
Calleigh had unashamedly given her mother a bottle of wine the minute they got into her apartment, and Mrs. Hayes, while not yet unconscious, was certainly past the stage of active participation in the conversation. She had gradually melted back into the couch, and the others talked over her as if she weren't there. The others, Calleigh thought warmly. Alexx had stayed with her family, but Speed and Eric were here with her. They probably would have been anyway, even if Horatio had not told them to stay with her. Calleigh's heart skipped a beat as she remembered how, in the absolute heat of the chase, finally knowing the answer to the one case that haunted him above all others, he had taken time out to think of her, to make sure she would not be alone.
The three men spoke easily to each other, gradually getting acquainted. Peter was much more relaxed with her two friends than he had been with Horatio. He knows they're "just friends," she thought. Just friends, as if that weren't enough. She thanked God for them both right now. At least she didn't have to deal with her mother alone, or only with Peter, which was nearly the same thing.
Mrs. Hayes stirred suddenly. "Horatio," she said, tripping over the name. "Where did he go?"
"He's working, Mother," said Calleigh. "Why don't you get to bed now?" While you can still walk a bit on your own.
"Looks like H has a fan," said Eric.
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," said Speed. "Come on, Calleigh, let's get her to bed." He grabbed one arm, and Calleigh took the other, walking Mrs. Hayes unsteadily down the hall.
"I'm sorry," said Peter, suddenly feeling like he should apologize for his family.
"Hey, man, no one gets to choose their parents." Eric smiled at him. "You've got a winner for a sister, though."
"I sure do," Peter agreed. Speed and Calleigh returned. Speed settled down in his chair again, but Calleigh stayed on her feet, walking over to the window, looking out at the lightning in the distance.
"Storm coming," she said casually, and turned back from the window to meet three sets of eyes that weren't at all casual.
"I'm sure he's alright," said Speed.
"H. knows what he's doing," Eric agreed.
"I know he does. But he still isn't totally recovered, you know." Her worry went beyond that. Not just his body, but his spirit. Whatever happened with Ray's case, it would rake Horatio over the coals.
"What happened to him?" asked Peter. "He told me he hit a piece of concrete." Speed actually sat up straight, and Eric choked over a swallow of his Diet Coke. Without a word, Calleigh walked over to her desk, pulling out a paper from last Sunday, the one with "Miami Honors Horatio Caine" splashed across the front page. She tossed it into Peter's lap.
"Hit a piece of concrete," snorted Speed. "H never lies, but he can tell the truth with a lot of imagination, sometimes." With growing respect, Peter read the story reviewing the bridge collapse, and for the first time, he started to understand Calleigh's comment about her being good enough for him.
"Why don't you give him a call? Just to see what he's doing," suggested Eric. "I doubt he'd mind."
Calleigh had already thought of that and discarded the idea several times. She didn't want to distract him from something critical. Still, it was a lot harder to toss the idea aside at 10:30 than it had been at 7:00. She took out her cell phone and looked at it, hesitating.
"It won't dial itself," said Speed.
Calleigh took the plunge, hit the buttons, then listened to the recording with growing alarm.
"What is it?" Eric didn't like the expression on her face.
"His cell phone isn't turned on."
"What?" Speed couldn't believe it. None of them could. Horatio was absolutely roped to his cell phone, reachable anywhere, anytime, on call 24/7. For him to deliberately turn it off was unprecedented.
Calleigh tried to sort through her own thoughts. Simply having the phone not answered might mean he was in physical danger, but if it had been turned off, Horatio had done it himself, deliberately. And if he would go to that length to avoid talking to anyone, he definitely needed some company. The case must be over, one way or another. He would never take himself out of the loop with it still open. But her concern was greater, if anything. She faced her friends. "Eric, Tim, would you guys go try to find him? Just to make sure he's alright?" They both started to stand up, but Peter's voice stopped them halfway.
"No, why don't you go, Calleigh?" She turned toward him, and he stopped her protest halfway. "I'll stay here and look after Mother. You've done more than your share of that, anyway. Go find him, Calleigh. Go on."
Calleigh looked at him for a long moment. Her brother. Who had run away and left her. Who had now come back. She walked across and kissed him suddenly. "Peter," she said, "I forgive you." She grabbed her car keys and bolted for the door.
***
Calleigh went to his house first, and the Hummer was there. She let herself in with her key, but she knew the minute she stepped in that the house was empty. He had been here, though. The light in the kitchen was on, and on the table was the photo album she had given him, open halfway through, as if he had been looking through its pages again. Well, that was why she had given it to him. She never wanted him to question his influence on the world again. Still, he hadn't found the answers there tonight. He had left it abruptly, still open. She crossed to the back sliding door, looking out through the glass toward the beach. Dark seascape streaked with lightning. He was out there somewhere. She could feel him. She opened the door and stepped out into the freshening breeze as thunder rumbled overhead.
***
Horatio sat on the sand with his back propped against a rock, listening to the tide, watching the storm roll in. He let his mind track out the patterns, tracing all the nuances of nature. This was why he loved the ocean. So awe-inspiring, relentless, powerful, yet it could be explained. The patterns were there, even the patterns of violence, like the hurricanes. They could be studied, respected, understood. The lightning overhead was not frightening, just powerful. Much more powerful than he was, but that did not bother him. He understood it.
But he would never be able to understand how a fellow officer, someone sworn to help the people, could be such a traitor. That level of deceit scrambled Horatio's world. He understood the criminals, even Chaz, who made no pretense about what he was. But how could someone live such a lie? It did not make sense. And Horatio desperately needed the world to make sense. It was what he lived by.
Warm hands suddenly grasped his shoulders. "Horatio." He started to scramble to his feet, and she stopped him, folding her own body down beside his instead. She wound both arms around him, holding him tightly, and he leaned against her, closing his eyes, trying to draw order and peace from her presence. It was 20 minutes before he said anything, and she did not push, simply holding him, stroking his hair softly. When he was ready to talk, he would.
"It's over," he said finally.
"Is it?" He caught the flash of her eyes in the dark. Good old Calleigh, ready to slay any dragons left who needed slaying.
"Yes. It's over." He straightened up slightly. "It was Hagen."
Somehow, she wasn't surprised. "I never really trusted him."
"Really?"
"Really. He would always slip in sideways comments about you. Like once, he said he hoped you knew what you were doing. I said you'd been doing it a long time, and he said he hoped you got to keep doing it. Another time, he tried to tell me you walked a lonely road."
"That much is true."
"You've been alone too much in life, Horatio. But you aren't alone anymore. Don't ever forget that." She pulled his head over against her chest again. He was still tense. "What is it then, if it's over?"
He sighed. "I just don't understand it. How can anybody be such a traitor? And it never showed. Little hints, in retrospect, yes, but if it weren't for Susie, he'd still be walking around as a cop, and I wouldn't know."
Calleigh felt an absurd urge to laugh, quickly repressed. "Horatio, you can't understand everything. You can't know everybody. No one can."
He pulled away, looking at her. "I have to try. It's the only way the world makes sense."
She took a moment to choose her words. How could she soothe him? "You see more sense in the world than anyone else I've met. But Horatio, you can't see it all. There's too much there. There are things beyond our ability to explain. Like traitors. You could try all your life, and you will never understand that. You're too honest to understand it." He considered, but he still didn't quite look convinced. Try another example, then. "But there are good things you can't explain, too. Beyond any category. They're still real. Like love." She hugged him suddenly, fiercely. "I love you, Horatio. And you're never going to be able to sort out everything I mean by that. You can try the rest of your life, and you won't see it all."
His expression lightened suddenly. She felt some of the tension leave him, and he hugged her back. "I love you too, Calleigh. More than I can explain. You're right."
She asked him then, because she had to. "Then why didn't you come to me tonight?"
"I wanted to. But you'd just been through your father's funeral. You were with your family."
She was angry suddenly. "My family? Biologically, maybe. You are my family, Horatio. Don't you see, I'd rather be with you than them, especially if you needed me." There was a slight question in the last words, and he heard it.
"I needed you. I just wasn't sure I had the right."
Sometimes she honestly wanted to hit him. "Horatio Caine, get it through your thick head. I want to share whatever you're going through with you. Good and bad. Anytime you need me, you let me know. Anytime at all. Don't make me hunt you down again."
He smiled suddenly, and she heard the smile in his voice. "I bet you would, though."
"Damn right. I told you before, you aren't getting rid of me. And that's something in the world that you won't ever be able to explain."
He wrapped his arms around her suddenly, and the strength of his grip almost took her breath away. Calleigh, he thought. Absolutely unexplainable, like she had said. What a precious gift in life. He suddenly remembered his original plans for last Monday but momentarily shoved them aside. She just went to her father's funeral today, he told himself. She felt his retreat. "What is it, Horatio?"
To hell with waiting for perfect moments. Time to start manufacturing some. He reached into his pocket, finding the small box he had carried with him all through this week. "Calleigh," he started, and a huge lightning bolt split the sky directly overhead. The rain suddenly started, coming down in sheets, instantly drenching both of them. "Come on, give me a break, would you," he shouted suddenly toward the sky, and Calleigh burst out laughing.
"Come on, Horatio, let's get inside before we drown." She stood up, but he stayed where he was.
"No way. I'm not stirring a step until you tell me something."
"What's that?" Thunder rumbled around them, and the next lightning bolt lit his eyes, letting her see his face completely. He half raised himself to his knees.
"Calleigh, will you marry me?"
She collapsed back down onto the sand with him. "Yes. Oh, yes. I haven't wanted anything else for two years." He slipped the ring on her finger, and she held it out, letting the lightning reflect in it.
"Neither have I." He wrapped her against him, and suddenly it was a perfect moment. Even with the thunder, and the lightning, and the pounding rain. This fits us better, she thought. Flowers and candlelight are too routine for us. She kissed him, and he answered the pressure of her lips on his own with increasing passion. And her cell phone rang.
Horatio broke away from her, collapsing onto the sand, helpless with laughter. She pulled the phone out, trying to shelter it with her hand. "Duquesne." And this had better be good.
"Calleigh?" It was Adele. "I can't get hold of H, and Speed said you went to find him. Is he with you?"
"Sure, just a sec." She passed the phone to Horatio. "It's Adele." She stood admiring her ring in the lightning. It was absolutely gorgeous out here. The rest of my life, she thought, whenever there's a storm, I'll remember this night.
Horatio snapped the phone shut and returned it to her. "I have to go down to the police station to make a statement. They want it before they finish processing Hagen." He started to scramble up, and she helped him, realizing for the first time that his ankle was bothering him again.
"Make a statement about what?"
"Long story. I'll tell you on the way. Come with me?"
"Anywhere." She looped her arm through his. "First, though, I'll wrap that ankle for you again. We'd better change clothes, too." They looked at each other and both burst out laughing. Wet and caked with sand, they looked more like beached sea monsters than professionals. "But about the future, there's just one problem, Horatio."
"What's that?" He stopped, concerned.
"How on earth are we ever going to manage to have kids?"
He smiled. "Once in a while, we'll just both have to turn our phones off. And I promise you, I won't even take mine on our honeymoon."
"Deal. I won't take mine either." She kissed him again, a warm promise of things to come. Then they walked up the beach hand in hand to his house.