What Lies Beneath

Chapter 10

Sorely tempted to head out and buy a pack of smokes after the roller-coaster of a day she’s had so far. The thought nearly cemented in Olivia’s mind when she entered her office to find Detective Daniels’ a*s on the corner of her desk. Annoyed with the fact that she had to wait for the attorney before she could speak with Finley Scott again. She was feeling guilty for Suzie–she had no reason to, but she did. On top of everything, mental images of a certain detective plagued Olivia, and made her thoughts turn into mush.

“Daniels.” she greeted him dourly. “Can I help you?”

“I was waiting for you to get an update about Suzie.”

With a heavy sigh, she walked around her desk and plopped down on her chair and conveyed the goings-on of her day.

“I still can’t believe that Suzie had done it. She’s not the type.” He frowned.

“Type is just four letter word, Detective. With the right motivation types change quick enough.” Olivia thought that every detective worth their badge should know that.

Daniels nodded in agreement. “The Chief must be thrilled that you solved a case already.”

“Under the circumstances, I’m not so sure. And don’t congratulate me just yet, the murder is far from being solved.” Her irritation gave way to angst when Daniels lifted the file he had in his hands. How did she not notice it in his hands before?

He wasn’t referring to the Holden case at all. The cold, damp hands of dread were tickling at the base of her skull. “You went through my drawers?” Olivia asked in disbelieve.

“Was looking for a pen.” He smirked like it was the most hilarious thing ever.

“Bullshit!” she spat as she sprang from her chair to grab the file from his hand. “The admin office is right next to yours. Why are you going through my drawers?”

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I was curious about you.” He shrugged. “You’re a bit of a mystery, Olivia. As detectives, we’re drawn to this type of stuff.”

Olivia was so mad that at this moment she could not trust herself enough to speak without cursing him to hell and beyond. Pinching the bridge of her nose, trying her best not to throw a stapler at the asshole, she counted back from ten. Upon a long exhale, she was calm enough to speak. “Look, I…”

He interrupted her. “You probably have a good reason to still have it. Seeing that you have a confession.”

She was not in the mood for this. They both knew that the file should have been in the Prosecutor’s hands the second she pressed stop on the recording of that confession. “I am keeping the file until Friday, I won’t hold it against you if you decide to inform the chief.” Didn’t she just finish an interview about something quite similar? Judging Suzie while she doing the same thing?

“Olivia, I…” He began, but she silenced him with a look that made it clear he had overstepped.

“Detective Daniels, please wait outside my office when I am not in it. You had no business going through my stuff like some sort of…”

“Is there a problem?” Startled, she looked over to Mason standing in the doorway. He had little interest in her. She knows this because he was glaring at Daniels.

“No problem here, Riley.” Daniels’ stiff back made it clear he was uncomfortable with this situation, the hostility from both sides was tangible.

Mason’s eyes flickered to Olivia, his features softening just enough for her to understand his problem was not with her. “Pearson?” he prompts.

Tempted to ask him to throw Daniels out of her office, she gave him a small smile instead. “Under control.”

His intense eyes assessed her for a second longer before he left her doorway vacant once more. Daniels scoffed, drawing her attention away from the spot where Mason was just standing. “What a d**k! I don’t who or what that asshole thinks he is.”

“Please Detective, I have work to do.” She sat back down and opened the file for Dona Holden. Mercifully, Daniels left without another word. She didn’t give a flying f**k if he was angry, she was angry too. Olivia yanked up the file he left on her desk, opened her drawer and shoved it inside–if it had a lock she would have locked it after she slammed it shut. The audacity and plain rudeness of people stunned her.

Later, when her anger had simmered down, she thought of Daniels and what he discovered in her drawer. Was he going to the chief with it? Add to that, Mason and his hostility towards Daniels. What the hell was going on there? Did he really care if she was having problems with Daniels or did he use this as an opportunity to stick it to the d**g-busting detective? Olivia appreciated the fact that she was romanticizing the situation. Her attraction to Mason was clearly turning her brain into a useless heap of unreasonable hormones.

They obviously have some sort of history that had absolutely nothing to do with her. She forced herself to think about this pain in the a*s lawyer that has not made an appearance yet. It seems like Mr. Scott will move to a cell until his lawyer graces them with his presence.

She waited until six before she packed up for the day. Katherine and Mason had already gone home, they popped in to say goodnight and wish her luck with the lawyer. Thankfully, she hasn’t seen Daniels again after their spat. Moving the mouse, she pulled the laptop from sleep mode. Before she closed all the windows and shut down, she quickly checked her email and saw that she had an email from Cole Daniels.

Olivia,

I’m sorry for upsetting you today that was the last thing I wanted to do.

For what it’s worth, I wasn’t planning on going to the chief about the Bolton case.

Cole                           

The relief Olivia felt did nothing to lessen her frustration with Daniels. He violated her privacy, and this just reminded her why she couldn’t trust people. Lord knows she had tried to change her ways–try to be more open to new relationships, not to judge people so harshly, but as soon as you let your guard down, you get punched right in the face.

She directed some of this anger at herself, for putting herself in a vulnerable position to begin with, but at least she didn’t go around digging through other people’s drawers like some crazy stalker. So, for now, she’d keep her anger fully directed at Daniels. There was plenty of time to be angry at herself later.

Without sending a reply, she powered off her laptop, locked her office door behind her and headed for the interview rooms. Olivia asked the officer to move Finley Scott to a holding cell for the night.

Genuinely confused for a good few minutes when she didn’t find her car parked in its usual spot. Then she remembered she had crashed it into Finley Scotts Honda. Her poor old car, she thought. It might have been old, but it had never let her down until now. But that was to no fault of the car. Poor me! She objected - he didn’t have money to get the damn thing fixed.

The bus was the last thing she was in the mood for tonight. The walk to the bus stop wasn’t that far, a mere two blocks from the station. It was the walk from the bus stop to her apartment that nearly had her convinced that sleeping in one of the empty holding cells seemed like a spectacular idea. She looked longingly back at the station; the thought of a hot soak in the tub there was the only motivation egging her on towards the bus stop.

Stepping onto the bus, Olivia paid the driver cash for a one-way ticket and looked for an empty row, but all she could find was an empty seat, next to a guy that appeared to have sweated underneath an oil-pissing truck for the good part of the day - she stood. She had nothing against dirty manual labor, but the smell of engine oil gave her a headache. Grabbing a dangling strap, Olivia held on tightly as the bus surged forward, her mind lost in the promise of the warm bath, bourbon and her bed.