DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Lindsay Boxer is a hot woman. Cindy sighed as she stared once again at the words on her laptop screen without being able to make sense of them. And thoughts like these do not help!
Cindy had left Papa Joe's early tonight, excusing herself with being exhausted, except a blind woman could see she was still so wired she could have gone a week without sleep. Maybe. Just as well that she needed to finish this artice - too bad that she couldn't get any work done.
She had been too close to blowing her cover... Claire, well, she was a mother. Mothers always knew too much. And Jill was trained in finding what crimes people were hiding. Too dangerous.
Lindsay... Cindy thought back to the worried look she'd been treated to at her early departure, half understanding, half questioning... maybe Lindsay knew, too.
Closing the lid of her laptop, Cindy leaned back in her chair, taking off her glasses. The memory came easily, though it wasn't so easy to deal with. Technically, she was aware that her crush on the good inspector had probably as much to do with her recent kidnapping as the nightmares that brought her back to the place where Cindy had thought she was going to die.
An instant later, she became aware of the fact that her heart was racing, and she straightened her back resolutely. She was very much alive - and that was because Lindsay hadn't given up on her. In the midst of the horror, this would always be her fondest memory... when there was silence after the gunshots, and Lindsay had finally cut through the ropes he had bound her with, her movements quick and confident.
"You okay?" she'd asked, and Cindy had realized with a start that 'okay' was as far as the moon at that moment. The drug was still strong in her system, so she couldn't even get up on her own. Cindy had cursed herself, the kidnapper, and the world in general, not necessarily in that order - and then she'd started sobbing.
No, wait. That's not part of the fond memory. That part of it was embarrassing.
It seemed that Lindsay hadn't thought so, because she'd pulled Cindy into her arms and rocked her slowly, until the tears started to abate and she could breathe properly again. "Shh, you're going to be all right."
Comforting a friend. That's what it had been to Lindsay, no doubt about it. Or was there?
No fair that Cindy's imagination had started playing tricks on her; of what else was possible. And while daydreaming was certainly better than the nightmares, it led to nothing. But she couldn't just... could she?
They said that people who'd had near-death experience, changed their priorities. A few days ago, Cindy had been convinced she wouldn't make it to 30 - that counted, didn't it?
Her hands were trembling when she picked up the phone, but when Lindsay barked her ususal greeting, "Boxer.", she had to smile. Lindsay had caller ID. She also had tonight off, and could have not picked up at this time of night - but that wasn't like her anyway. Because she cared.
"It's me. I was wondering..." Now came the harder part. Cindy had no real excuse, except she didn't want to be alone. And she wanted to be... Close. Again. Closer this time.
"Um, would you like to come over?"
There was a small pause that seemed like forever to Cindy, then Lindsay said, "Okay. But you owe me breakfast then."
I owe you my life. Cindy's throat got a little tight at that thought, but she pushed the emotion aside in favor of warm anticipation, and smiled.
She was very okay with all the implications of Lindsay's words.
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