Michael hadn't even made it to the coffee and donuts, before Max found him. It was already after ten. Time went fast waiting for Sean, and then taking him home, leaving the GTO and taking the bike. Shoving papers at him, Max reached over and grabbed three donuts and pushed his partner towards the elevator.

“Coffee, grab some coffee dammit!” Michael shoved an entire donut into his mouth in one bite. “Think we’ve got time to hit a drive-thru?”

“We identified our Jane Doe. Kyle is waiting for family members to identify the body, but the match is already made. I’ve got a list of friends and acquaintances.”

“When did the stuff come through?”

“Early this morning. Her roommate finally filed a Missings. The picture was dead-on, and Simon is accessing her dental now.”

Michael downed another donut. Coffee, he needed coffee. Or milk. Michael cringed at that thought. Milk? What the hell was wrong with him? Cow secretions...

“Okay, we roll, but you’ve got to find me some coffee.”

“Hang on. We’re heading to the University. You can get a cup of the Professor’s industrial waste, core-scrubber coffee. That should burn a hole through your gut.”

“She better not be drinking that sh-it. Dammit, just hit the first drive-thru, preferably someplace with more donuts, or a damn egg McMuffin.”

They went in search of a graduate student affiliated with the English and Language Departments. He was a cross-major specializing in linguistics and language origins. Justin Bartley. It would appear that their Jane Doe was actually a Janet Seers.

“Justin Bartley?” Max asked in a room full of graduate students sitting at tables and talking. The room suddenly went quiet looking at the two cops, especially the larger more menacing one eyeing the coffee pot in the corner.

“I’m Justin.” A tall thin man in his mid-twenties stood up. He looked something like a poet with his shaggy hair, goatee, and long sweater covering a t-shirt and baggy jeans. Michael looked down and took in the worn loafers, and just turned away. Whatever appealed to the masses.

“I’m Detective Evans, and this is my partner, Detective Guerin. We’re responding to your missing person’s report filed this morning.”

“Yeah, damn that was fast! I filed it on my way into school this morning. Janet was missing for a few days, so this weekend the house had a meeting, and I pulled the short straw to file.” Michael hitched his hip to the side of a table within reaching distance of the coffee pot.

“What do you mean you had a house meeting?” Michael asked confused.

“Well a few of us graduate students share a large house, about eight of us. Rent is divided by bedroom, so it keeps our expenses down.” Max indicated for the man to sit down at a table near Michael, and he took a seat as well. A bell rang, and suddenly many of the students in the lounge took off. “I’ve got a class.” Justin started to rise. Michael pushed him back down.

“Miss it.” The man looked at Michael, and nodded. “So Janet lived in the house?”

“Yeah, she was slightly older than the rest of us, about twenty-seven. She had a jones for language, actually just for correct usage of the English language.”

“The report says the last time anyone saw her was last Tuesday. That was seven days ago. Why so long to report her missing?”

“Well she really didn’t socialize much with the rest of us, actually most of us avoided her. She was nice enough, if you didn’t have to talk to her.” Justin refilled his cup of coffee and dumped in half a cup of sugar. “So when she went missing, at first we assumed she finally got lucky, then that she might have gone to visit her parents or something. But on Friday, she missed a class she student-teaches. That wouldn’t happen. Not ever. Janet was a royal, anal, persnickety pain in the ass with the social graces of a riverbed slug, but she was too uptight to leave a class hanging.”

“You mean she would’ve made arrangements if she couldn’t be there for the class.” Max said frowning as his partner took more coffee. Damn, he was going to have a wired partner.

“Right. She would have informed someone of a family emergency or whatever. So by Friday we were concerned, and finally admitted that no one had seen her since Tuesday.”

“You could have filed this last weekend. Why wait?” Max discreetly moved the coffee pot away from Michael.

Justin shrugged. “House meetings are on Sunday afternoon with Sunday dinner. It’s the only time we all really eat together, and then we discuss problems in the house, make rules, and take care of business like utilities and stuff.”

“Stuff. So Janet was stuff?” Michael asked with a coldness in his voice. The woman on the slab deserved a friendly regard, someone to care.

“Look, she wasn’t bad or evil. Her personality clashed with others, that was the long and short of it. Janet had a high regard for her own opinion. We called it ‘the world according to Janet’. If she saw things a certain way, even when she was wrong and knew it, she would fight for her opinion regardless. It was like playing a game of Trivial Pursuit with a person who memorized all the answers, and then read the questions to you all puffed up, saying things like ‘Oh, don’t worry, this one is an easy one, and only an idiot would miss it’. She was insecure enough to demand people follow rules to the T, live up to her standards whether they knew them or not, and was miserable enough to obsess over it when they didn’t. The only way she felt good was when she could parade her own high opinion, and pull down everything around her in a critical way to keep her own esteem high.”

“So basically no one cared that she was gone?” Max asked.

“No. Basically, it was that no one went out of their way to socialize with her, because her opinion usually was put out there as something hard, vicious and mean, and it sucked the life out of everyone privy to it. So we avoided her, thereby avoiding confrontation, and that’s why it took us a little time to realize that it wasn’t so hard to avoid her, because she wasn’t there.”

Michael sipped on the coffee that tasted like it was on the same grounds ran through a few times. “In a nutshell, what was it about Janet that made her stand out?”

“Perfection. Her quest for perfection.” Michael sat up straighter and paid more attention. “She was always correcting people, critically reviewing everything about them whether they wanted her to or not. Nothing was right or correct unless it passed her own ‘Janet view’, and if not she bitched obsessively, pointing out all aspects that she felt wasn’t up to her standards. She was one of those miserable people who lived in the North with precise monotone speech, who would visit the South and hear a woman say the word 'wash’ pronounced ‘warsh', and even though she fully understood what the woman meant, she had to correct because it wasn’t ‘good English.’ She would find fault in a gift given at some personal expense to the person doing the giving. She’d nit-pick over every detail until the person giving wished they hadn’t bothered. Ever have an old Aunt Sally who knitted you a sweater, and it looked terrible? Well most people would smile, say thank you, and put it away. Not Janet. She would crawl all over the work, not caring how Aunt Sally felt about it, and would tell anyone and everyone within hearing distance how terribly it was, or how worthless, or how untalented Aunt Sally was until the only ones standing around her were those who showed the same miserable disposition.”

“So you’re saying that her demand for perfection was a flaw.” Max frowned as Michael searched in his now-empty coffee cup and was slowly moving towards the pot again.

“No, I’m saying it was a double standard. It’s easy to be critical of everyone and everything when you have nothing out there and you aren't risking your own pride and work to extreme scrutiny. Nothing ventured is nothing gained. She practiced pretending to be perfect, but her very nature belied that.” Justin felt bad. “Really she wasn’t that bad, it’s just hard to be around a person who comes to eat at your table, tastes your food, and then tells you that it sucks, but don’t worry, you’ll get better if you take cooking lessons. Miserable, miserable person. Miserable to be around, and miserable to live with, so most of us avoided her. That flaw in her personality was why none of us missed her when she was gone.”

“So why did you let her live with you?”

“Well when we started she seemed so nice, as do most people when you meet them. On the surface they project a certain personality, a façade that often hides their true nature. It took a little while for those personality traits to hit us in the face, but at the end of this year, if she didn’t graduate and move on, the house was voting her out.”

“Well that should no longer be a concern.” Michael said. “We need you to come with us to the station and identify a body.”

“A body?” Justin rubbed his face. “Oh, God! Janet? ”

“Yes. It would appear someone else found her personality traits a tad bit flawed as well.” Michael ignored Max’s sharp look his way. “When was the last time and place anyone saw her? Exactly. If any of you could try to remember the last time you were trying to avoid her, it would help our investigation.”

“Tuesday.” Justin said quietly. “It was Tuesday. Our entire house went out to celebrate the completion of first block testing and grading. It was the end of a long week of all-nighters and living on coffee and sugar. The weekend was worse because all grading had to be done by no later than end of school day on Monday, and the weekend was when most of us spent all our time trying to catch up. Monday night was 'Silent night' as the house crashed to catch up on needed sleep, and Tuesday was our 'Let's celebrate until the next grading period in six weeks'.”

“Janet was with the group of you?”

“Yeah. Most of us hit the dance floor, but Jen was caught at the table with Janet listening to her rip apart her students and their essays. Finally Jen went to get a drink and ditched her. When we came back to the table she was gone, so we assumed she was dancing or met someone to continue bitching to. She still hadn’t surfaced by bartime at two a.m. so we walked home and we made jokes about how she must have met a creepy English professor type who was up to her standards. Someone who would lecture about comma splices and get her all hot, while going down on her in missionary, reciting all the proper pronouns and wearing black nylon socks.” Justin looked at them. “It was funny to us at the time.”

“I’m sure.” Michael felt bad. Janet sounded like a person he wouldn’t have enjoyed knowing either, and with his language it was a given that he would’ve found a way to ticket her just in spite. “Where did you lose her exactly?”

“Club Hell.”

~~~

By the time Michael and Max made it back to the station, they had interviewed several people who had been acquainted with Janet Seers. The picture was the same with almost everyone, including her Professors and advisors. She was a nice woman, but wasn't really very close to anyone, and was considered too critical for the average human, meaning pretty much the rest of the population. The word that kept hitting them was the word ‘perfection’. It was used in not only describing Janet’s demeanor, but what she demanded of others.

“That was the most miserable time of my life. There has to be someone that liked that girl outside of the few that she found no real fault with.” Max threw himself down in his chair, depressed. “Add the fact that I have court in an hour, my day is just sucking up the ass.”

“Court? Oh, the Delaney case? That’s what you get, partner, getting in on a bust without me. I think I’ll finish up these reports, and look at Kyle’s. His day had to be miserable too, helping people identify the body, and collecting all the lab reports. Then I’m off early to check on my car part...” Michael stopped talking as a man came to stand at his and Max’s desk.

Alex Whitman. The owner of Club Hell, and someone they needed to talk to eventually. Looked like the time was now.

“Whitman, I thought you had an allergy to Cop Central.” Max asked, and Michael would’ve made a comment as well if it weren’t for stone coldness of Alex’s eyes.

“Normally I do. I just spent the morning downstairs getting the runaround.” Alex looked at Michael specifically. “I think some people owe me.” Alex added Max in his stare. “I need help, and I can’t wait for some forty-eight hours to get it.”

“What is it, Alex?” Michael felt his stomach flip. If Whitman was looking from help from them, it couldn’t be good.

“My cousin went missing out of my club last night. She was only seventeen, and I looked everywhere for her.” Max and Michael looked at each other. Another girl missing from Club Hell. There might have been more, but the body of Janet Seers added her missing status on an active file. “You’ve got to help me. The two of you owe me from last year, and I’m calling in my marker. My cousin, she’s young, a good kid who just wanted to sing at my club.” Alex ran a shaking hand over his neck. “I promised my family she'd be safe.”

Michael pushed a chair out for Alex as Max went to get the man a cup of coffee. “Sit down, Whitman. I’ll take the report.” Michael didn’t just do it because of Janet Seers, but because Whitman was right. He and Max owed Alex for helping Isabel, and helping them get to Maria and Liz before they were too late. “When was the last time anyone saw her, exactly?”

Max was gone to make his court date, and Whitman finally left after they searched for any Jane Doe resembling his cousin in both the hospitals and the morgue. Nothing so far, but Michael kept her file on top. Looking at the picture Alex gave them, the girl was young and beautiful. Her face was shining, full of life and humor. Closing the report folder he hoped that they could find the girl alive and well, not only for Whitman’s sake, but because there was too much life in the girl to be wasted at such an age.

“Guerin.” Michael barked into his phone.

“Always pleasant, Michael.” Michael smiled at the phone.

“Walter. What’s the news?”

Walter just laughed at the change in voice. “The part arrived, and it’s good. Not new, but it has almost no wear, and I checked the part serials, and they're an authentic match. The money was transferred, so count yourself very, very poor.”

“Yeah, I’m feeling it in my ass. I took time off today for an early afternoon. I’m done in about an hour, so keep it safe and I’ll swing by on my way.”

“Done. Does the Professor coming too?” Michael looked at his watch.

“Maria’s off in about fifteen minutes. I’ll give her a call and let her know it’s in. We got the rest done, so we just have to pop this puppy in, put the engine into the block, and we can send it out to paint.”

“Excellent. Michael, I know it’s hard to see the project end, but just float through that feeling buddy, because the minute you take her out it will all be worth it.”

“From the Angel’s mouth to you Walter, I know it. See you in a couple of hours.” Michael hung up the phone, and wondered what Kyle was doing that evening and if he would like to join him and Sean to help lower the engine back into the block. Max was coming over after he got home from court, but Michael wasn’t sure Max was going to get away from the DA’s grilling and coaching for the next day.

“Michael, here’re the reports you wanted. I also thought you might want to see this too.” Gary, the records file clerk quickly made himself scarce. Michael scanned the reports and tossed them on his desk. Looking at the other thing Gary gave him, Michael frowned and read it twice. What the hell? Sitting down in his seat he reread it again, and again. Thinking for a moment, a plan formed in his mind. Yeah, he knew just the right cop to handle this situation. Picking up the phone, he set the wheels in motion.
~~~

Maria stopped twice to doublecheck the instructions. No mistake, but dammit, a dirt road outside of Roswell? She was supposed to meet Michael, but this had to be wrong. Finally coming to a blacktop, she took a right as instructed and traveled down the road. Pushing in her newest favorite CD, Maria maintained her usual speeds. It was after four in the afternoon, and Michael had no doubt found another out of the way place that served his favorite meal outside of cheeseburgers and donuts-Indian tacos. Maria wasn’t opposed; she could handle eating some fried bread. It was strange that Michael wanted to detour away from their plans to work on the car, but it was early afternoon, so there was still time for that.

It took awhile before she looked in her rearview mirror and noticed a motorcycle cop with his lights flashing. Quickly looking down at the speedometer, she swore under her breath. Oh, this was not good. As she pulled over, put the car in park and turned off the engine, Maria quickly grabbed her license, registration, and insurance form. She was becoming a pro at being pulled over.

Looking in the rearview mirror as she saw the officer dismount his motorbike, Maria checked her makeup and put on her best smile of contrition. The tapping on her window with the officer’s nightstick actually startled her. Rolling down the window quickly, she tried to calm her beating heart.

“Officer...”

“License, registration, and insurance, ma’am.” His voice was serious and cold brooking no discussion or overtures. Maria started to talk and make gestures with her hands. “Please keep you hands on the steering wheel at all times.”

Maria looked outside her window, but all she could see was this shirt front, and the firm stance in tight black leather pants. That uniform was fitting real nice like, all snuggly-wuggly. Michael needed one of those. Maria watched as he quickly read her papers, tapping his stick against the outside of his leg. Maria couldn’t stop staring at the fascinating sight of his utility belt and handcuffs. The whole uniform really went together nicely.

“Officer, I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention to my speed, and...”

“Remain here.” He walked off leaving her in mid-sentence and mounted his bike calling in her license and tags to dispatch. Oh no! This wasn’t good. Maria tried to remember what was on her record.

The officer came back. “Ma’am, could you step out of the vehicle?”

Maria reluctantly complied. “I know I’ve got a few speeding tickets on my record. I meant to take care of those.”

“You have three, ma’am. In this state that makes you a habitual offender. This speeding ticket won’t be seen very favorably when you stand in front of the judge.”

“The judge? Can’t I just pay the tickets?” Maria tried to keep the whining out of her voice.

“That is for the courts to decide ma’am, but I’m afraid I’m gonna have to run you in.”

Maria looked up at his glasses, mirrored ones hiding his eyes, and his jaw was held firm and unyielding. This was a nightmare.

“Please, I’m so sorry, but my boyfriend wouldn’t be too understanding if I were taken into custody and booked. Isn’t there some way we could avoid this? Anything?” Maria tried to be her most appealing hoping her pleading would break his cold austere disposition.

“What are you suggesting, ma’am?” His jaw muscle flexed, otherwise there was no sign of emotion.

Maria was unsure what to say, or how to say it. Either way she was likely to get herself in trouble, real trouble. Then again, Michael was going to hit the roof over the speeding tickets. He hated it when she broke the law, or used her connections to make things go away.

“Officer, you don’t know how desperate I am. I would do anything, pay anything to avoid this ticket. Maybe you could help me out, turn a blind-eye just this once.” Maria gave a small hopeful smile. She reached out and touched his chest. Oh, nice and firm! “Please?”

“Are you offering me a bribe, ma’am?”

“No! No, of course not. That would be bad, very bad. No, I’m just saying I would be grateful, very grateful.”

He pushed her hand off his chest where it was absentmindedly stroking the lines of his tight shirt. “Grateful, how grateful? And please keep your hands to yourself. Better yet, I think you should turn around and put your hands on the hood of the car.”

Maria quickly complied. He didn’t look too happy with her. “It wasn’t a bribe, not really.”

“Bribing a sworn officer of the law is a serious charge, ma’am. Much more serious than a few speeding tickets. I’m sure that your boyfriend would find this even more objectionable.”

“Sorry Officer, I’ve tried to reform myself, but I fear being bad and unlawful is in my genes. I’m just trying to extricate myself from a potentially explosive situation.”

The Officer moved in close behind Maria and talked low and directly in her ear. Maria was shocked at how close he really was. “Are you saying your boyfriend will punish you?”

“Well sort of, in his own way.” Maria looked down at the hood and tried to keep her heart rate under control. God, he was good at menacing and terrorizing! An asset to his uniform, and what a great uniform it was.

Maria felt the coldness of the stick running up the inside of her bare leg, as he moved in even closer. “Does he spank your bare little bottom when you’re bad, Maria? Do you want him to?” Maria could feel the buttons of his shirt against her back. "Better check for concealed weapons." The Officer murmured from behind her.

Melting on the top of her car, she wasn’t sure how to answer that. But the Officer took that out of her hands. He wasn’t finished torturing her yet. “If you were mine, I would be tempted, just for the pleasure of feeling you squirm on my lap.” Maria was breathing hard, trying to keep her lungs full of air, and her eyes closed as he continued to whisper in her ear. “How grateful would you be, Maria if I made those speeding tickets disappear?”

“Very,” she said hoarsely.

Maria almost lost it when she felt the movement of his hands encased in leather gloves moving up her legs under her skirt. “No underwear?” Maria almost snorted, but held back. In this tight skirt, he had to be kidding. “You’re a very naughty one, aren’t you Maria?” His large hands held her hips in a tight grip. Then his tongue snaked out and lightly ran up the side of her neck.

No, not what she had expected. He knew what he was doing, a full assault she could have handled, an absolute lack of touching she could have also handled. But this delicate brushing touch was maddening. She attempted to calm her breathing. No use, his grip was too strong. Relax... relax... this is not happening, not in the middle of the day, not on a County highway, and not in Roswell, New Mexico.

“Tell me how naughty you are.”

He slipped his tongue into her ear, and she groaned despite her resolve to not make a sound. "Oh God," she hissed as his hands encased in leather moved up her front to cover her breast in a firm hold rubbing them. His tongue continued to work her ear, as his foot knocked her legs further apart and hardness of his erection pushed up against her ass. So close, so close, going to come... and then he pulled away.

“No!” Dammit, he won . “It’s not my fault. I swear. I come from unlawful genes.” Maria moaned when she heard his zipper go down. This was one of her fantasies, a variation of the interrogation room fantasy, but with a twist. She didn’t know that she would melt and lose control, becoming all subservient. In her fantasy she always had more fire and bravado, spitting in the Pig's eye. It was the damn uniform’s fault. How could she possibility resist the coolness of the nightstick on her inner thigh, or be prepared for the effect of having his leather gloved hands on her? It already had her orgasmic from the getgo.

Maria leaned forward and rested her head on her arms across the hood of the car, and his hands held her hips firmly and he flipped her skirt upward. The erotic feel of his hot flesh moving between her thighs from behind made her clench her fist and whisper a hot, ‘oh god!” as he penetrated her from behind. Maria felt her orgasm at the first full push as he sheathed himself all the way to the hilt.

Michael reached down and kissed the side of her neck, holding still as her body rode the wave. “Too much? Too intense?”

Maria just laughed where she lay. “Nothing with you is ever too much or too intense, Detective. I like it that way.” Maria felt him pull away and made a sound of protest. Michael quickly moved her to face him, and lifted her up to sit partially on the hood of the car crowding her by standing between her legs. “I just didn’t know that the uniform was gonna get me off, along with your pissy attitude.”

Michael smirked at that and let her pull him to her by his shirtfront. “Where would the fun be in that, Maria?”

“I’m a sick individual, Officer Rod.” Maria said as her eyes tried to penetrate the mirrors of his sunglasses. “I think you should investigate me, probe me to make sure I’m not a danger to the public.”

Michael growled as Maria nibbled on his lips, and he moved himself back into her, his eyes closing to slits as he watched her put back her head in a hissing moan. Leaning forward he kissed and then sucked on her exposed throat moving up to take her mouth in a full kiss. He was keeping the uniform. As he moved deeper and harder into her, kissing her mouth with the same intensity he was pumping into her, behind his eyes he could imagine her in front of him on her knees opening his zipper with her teeth. Hell yeah, the uniform stays.

“Oh yes, yes, yes! Oh! Officer Rod!” Maria was holding tight to his shoulders as he brought her closer and closer to another orgasm. “Michael, God please, more...” Michael moved her back even harder on the hood and took his time really doing it right. With her flat on her back, he hooked his arm under one of her legs and lifted it up so he could move even more into the cradle of her legs and push even deeper and harder into her. Michael’s other hand was trying to unbutton the front of her blouse, but the leather gloves were too unwieldy. Maria grabbed his hand and put a gloved finger in her mouth and pulled it off his hand. He quickly unbuttoned the blouse and moved her bra out of the way to take a firm bud in his hot mouth.

Moving his hand down, he slid it under her and lifted her ass so he could find a firmer purchase for his thrusts. Maria was making encouraging sounds in her throat as Michael worked her breasts nodding frantically. Whatever she wanted, she could have. Maria gave in to the temptation to just lean back and lose herself in his rhythm and the incredible heat of the body spread out over her own. Maria groaned as Michael's next strong stroke hit her walls stretching her even more. It made her feel like she was full of him, that he was her world. Her hands slid frantically across his chest and up under his arms to hold onto his shoulders pulling him harder to her helping to give his thrusts a purchase as she tried to brace herself.

Maria’s body convulsed violently as the head of Michael's c-ock found that perfect angle to rub against her clit time and again and the penetration and angle was hitting that special spot inside that made her eyes roll back and the world explode in a flash of color, and she bit at the smooth skin on the inside of her mouth as she climaxed. And climaxed again at Michael's next thrust, and again, sobbing her pleasure as the heightened intensity of feeling him drove her wild. Maria reached up and pulled off his mirrored glasses and helmet. She needed to see her lover, not a stranger. She wanted to see herself in Michael’s eyes.

Michael let his head tilt back until he could feel the heavy weight of his now released hair brushing his shoulder blades through his shirt. Moaning deep in the back of his throat, he dug his fingers into Maria's hips and rode his mate's hot, shuddering body right over the edge. Electricity crackled up and down his spine as his body tightened and jerked forward, each involuntary thrust into the heat around his c-ock sending tiny explosions shooting through him. Slowly, he fell forward to rest on Maria.

Michael laughed against her breasts when he heard her say in a shuttering breath, “Oh Officer Rod! I love your hard nightstick.” She really did need a spanking. Brat.

They rested, trying to regain strength in their limbs, or enough so they could support their own weight and stand. “Michael?”

“Uh huh.” Michael needed a nap.

“I hope this wasn’t your way of trying to reform me of the errors of my ways with getting speeding tickets, because if Officer Rod is gonna visit me to punish me for being bad, then I am so staying bad, damn near e-vil.”

“Three tickets, Maria!”

“I was gonna pay them...eventually.”

Michael just made a disbelieving sound in his throat. Sure she was. More than likely she was going to get someone to fix them for her, and pay them only as a last resort.

“Michael, I was thinking...” Michael just nestled deeper into her breast and listened. This had to be good. “What do you think about me being a judge and you can be the bad, out of order cop who is taken to task in my private chambers. I could hold you in contempt of the court and punish you?”

Michael looked up at her with a sparkle in his eyes. “I’m free for lunch tomorrow.”

~~~

Sean rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. No way. He still had two hours before Michael or Maria came home to bug the crap out of him. The ringing at the door was relentless, and for a second he was afraid it would be his Aunt Amy. Getting up, he grabbed a shirt and went to get the door, tripping over the cat. Mr. Booboo was unhappy with the rudeness of the act and swiped an unsheathed claw at Sean’s ankle.

“Dammit, I said I was sorry!” Sean ripped open the door to a tall blond woman. A gorgeous, tall blond woman with a scowl on her face at his language. “Um, hi?”

“Right. I must have the wrong place.” She started to move away, but Sean stopped her.

“If you told me what place you were looking for, maybe I could help?”

Isabel Evans looked up and down at the underdressed man and his obviously beaten body, with the bruises showing yellows and greens tinged in black. “I doubt it. Looks like you’re the one needing help.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, but regardless, I know everyone who lives in this area. Who you looking for?”

“Michael Guerin.” Sean looked the woman over not liking what he saw all of a sudden.

“Know him, but you’re too late, tootsie. He’s involved, seriously involved.”

“Know that too, with his Professor chick.” Sean bristled at her tone and having his cousin referred to as a ‘Professor chick’.

“Yeah, but you’re mistaken if you think she’s just a ‘chick’.” Sean backed up to let the cold maiden bitch from Dante’s hell enter. “Either way, you’ve got the right place, but neither of them are home. It’s just me and the vicious cat, Mr. Boo.”

Isabel entered giving the place a quick look. Wow, Michael lived here? Isabel couldn’t see it until she noticed his hockey stick up against the corner of the living room wall, some of his stuff lying around, stacks of his favorite reading material on the end table. No one really read automotive magazines.

“And you are?” Isabel continued to look around. The outside atrium and garden was beautiful, and the kitchen was huge and modern. Michael had really moved up in the world from his small empty apartment. The loft was large and open with an upstairs bedroom area, equally colossal.

“I’m the cousin of Professor chick. Sean Deluca. Detective Sean DeLuca.” Sean looked at her as he did up his shirt. Her icy looks were making his balls shrivel up into his body.

“Detective? Not a very good one, huh? Looks like someone ran you over a few times. A girlfriend or wife?”

Sean just ignored her. “And you are...? The Avon lady?”

“Isabel, Isabel Evans.” She purposely kept her hands clasped and away from him. She didn’t touch men anymore.

“Evans? Any relationship to Max Evans?”

“Brother. You know him?” Isabel wandered around the room noticing the décor and furniture. This was a nice place, a really nice place. It was hard to miss the Kandinsky on the wall, and it didn’t look like a reproduction.

“Yeah, you can say that. I’m partnered up with him, Kyle, and Michael. So, you’re the sister they talk about.” Sean looked her over. Strange, she didn’t look much like Max, but she did have some shared coloring and features with Michael.

“Strange, they never mentioned you. Forgettable?” Isabel moved closer to the art on the walls. It all looked real. “Is this...”

“Utterly, and yes, it’s real.” Sean went into the kitchen to make coffee and some lunch. He had slept through food since returning home from the appointment. “Maria has quite a collection. Most of it came from her family home, and after her father died she inherited it. A lot of the more pretentious pieces are in museums collecting dust, but M has a love for the abstracts. Especially Kandinsky. There’s something about the cleanness of the geometrical lines that appeals, and she says that abstracts lead her to feel.”

“My parents left us some stuff, but nothing like this.” Isabel kept looking around almost like she was casing the joint. Sean was ready to bust her or ask for some identification. “There are some artifacts and art from Meso-America and Africa.”

“Maria knows what she likes. But I think the large fresco you’re looking at is something Michael picked out. He saw it in an auction house six months ago, and the Aztec impressions mixed with Catholic religious symbols fascinated him. Synergistic combinations have something gratingly wrong, and yet speak to the ubiquitous nature of religion.”

Isabel looked at the man with an eyebrow raised. Okay, so not just a dumb musclehead toting a gun. Isabel went into the kitchen and sat at the bar. Maria DeLuca. Wondering if she was anything like her cousin, Isabel put down her bag and narrowed her eyes. She had heard endless stories about this Maria person, but had never met her. All their contact so far had been over the phone, and through conversations with her brothers. Isabel was more than prepared to dislike the woman, and looking at her cousin, it was looking to be more of a possibility every moment.

“So, Spanky. You live here?” Sean just snorted at the nasty woman. Who would have thought this woman was related to Max Evans? Obviously those feminine genes had gotten switched in the mix, and the Amazon bitch got the balls, and Max wore the dress.

“No, just being babysat by the two owners of the house. I actually live in Michael’s old apartment.”

“Hope you did a better job furnishing it then he did.” Isabel spied pictures on a low ivory topped credenza in the living room and leaving Sean in the kitchen, she went to look at them. Shocked and stunned at the same time, Isabel studied them. The pictures were of a beautiful blond woman and Michael. Some of Michael alone, some of the woman, but most were of the two of them, other pictures of a lovely older woman with short light brunette hair, the man in the apartment with her, other people, and her brother, Max. The most shocking were of Michael. He was smiling in some of them, and he looked happy, a part of something.

“This your cousin?”

Sean looked over at her holding a picture of Maria and Michael together. It was taken during a picnic and Maria was doubled over holding a Frisbee away from Michael, who was wrapped around her trying to get it. They were both laughing, and the picture had caught them as Maria looked up at him.

“Yeah, that’s Maria.”

“Michael looks like...”

“He’s happy? Belongs to a part of a family? He does.” Sean was confused as to why the woman seemed so upset. “I think he wandered a long time looking for what he lost when his dad died. Maria gives him back something.”

“Max and I were his family since Mikey died. He was ours.” Sean went over and took the picture away from her and put it back. “Well, guess your family just got bigger. You’d have been in these pictures too, if you were here.”

Isabel followed Sean back and watched him slicing meat for a sandwich. “I guess I never thought Michael would change. There was something so alone about him, so hard in some ways, and it was almost like winter lived in him. The only ones he let close enough were me and Max, and even then he kept us apart at times.”

Sean looked at her critically. “It bothers you that he changed, that Maria got inside.” Isabel shrugged. “Maybe you should re-examine what type of person you are that thinks leaving someone you love or respect in pain, hurt, and alone is okay. I can’t believe you would begrudge him some peace, a bit of happiness. So he smiles. So he laughs. I can also tell you that he cusses like a longshoreman that hasn’t seen land in years, he is both crass and crude, thinks with his dick and stomach, and the only person he yields to is my cousin.” Sean placed a sandwich and cup of coffee in front of the woman. “He still makes rookies piss their pants, sends secretaries running in tears, bad guys confess rather than deal with him, and on a good day, terrorizes most of Roswell. The only difference is that he is no longer in pain, and happiness is a word that means something to him.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.” Isabel said taking a bite of the sandwich.

“Yeah, well I’m in therapy.” Sean said with a touch of pride, almost like it made him smarter than the average bear, or Roswell cop. He wasn’t going to mention that he had just started that day, and bitched about it the whole time. Somehow it just added weight to his observations.

“So am I.” Sean looked at her. Hmm, soulmate. Someone that shared a bond. He could only hope she was feeling as unattractive to him as he felt towards her. His balls couldn’t handle much more abuse, and that frosty piece would break off his dick inside.

“I like pain to mask the hurt I feel inside, or so my therapist says. I like to be beaten to an inch of my life. It gets me off.” Top that one little girl. Bet she was crushed at the thought someone didn’t like her.

“I f-ucked everything with a pulse more than once, did drugs and drank away my life so I wouldn’t feel anything.” Isabel smirked at him. Pain. What a pansy. Anyone could survive a whip; there were worse things. “Ever been forced to watch the Martha Stewart Christmas Special?”

“Damn. I’d rather be gang raped by bikers.”

“Yeah, me too. It was brutal.” Isabel pushed her coffee cup over to him. “Anyone that happy over pastels really needs therapy. And they call us sick.”

This woman was tough. Sean poured her some more coffee. “So how are you on the Disney network?”

“Satanist.”

~~~

Michael made it home first, even after stopping to pick up his part. After they split up, Maria said she would meet him at home, but the Jetta was still missing. Stripping off most of the uniform, Michael went into the kitchen and stood in front of the refrigerator in tight leather pants, a white undershirt, and biker boots, searching for something, anything that would settle his craving. He couldn’t put his finger on what he needed, but the glass bottle of cold milk looked good. Damn, they were almost out! Reaching inside, he took out the bottle and was drinking straight from it, forgetting about the glass. He usually hated milk unless it came with something...something like cookies.

Maria came banging through the door with a brown paper bag under her arm, reaching down to toss off her shoes. Reaching into the bag, she turned to face Michael in front of the refrigerator, standing frozen in her bare feet.

“No! God, tell me that isn’t the last of the milk!” Maria could feel her heart beating hard in her chest, her nostrils flaring at the sight and smell of him.

Michael’s eyes narrowed on the bag and her hand inside it. Putting the bottle of milk behind his back he smiled a predatory smile. “What ya got, Professor? What’s in the bag?”

“Nuthin',” she hid the bag behind her back.

“Professor, don’t lie. No one buys a plain brown bag.” Maria just shook her head no. “Don’t make me get it out of you.” Maria remained strong until Michael took the bottle of milk out from behind him and put it to his lips to down it in one large swig.

“No! Oh God, don’t please...I’ll share. I’ll share.” Maria pulled out a bag of Oreo Doublestuffs from the paper bag. Michael smiled and took out a bowl for the milk, put some in it, and poured the rest into a small glass. The two of them leaned across from each other on the counter with the bowl of milk and the glass between them and the Oreo bag ripped open.

Sean and Isabel stood outside in the garden and watched the scene unfold from the moment Michael rushed in closely followed by Maria. They were devouring the cookies, dipping them in the bowl of milk, and then drinking sips of milk from the glass. Occasionally they would kiss, and then go back to the cookies.

Isabel watched almost horrified. Looking at an equally fascinated Sean, she just shrugged. “And they think we’re the ones needing therapy?”