Chapter Four

Bishop had been waiting for what seemed like forever. She was pacing in front of her desk, back and forth repeatedly, and Rayden was starting to humorously wonder if she'd wear a hole in the linoleum. Goren hadn't returned yet, and Bishop's irritation seemed to be multiplying by the second.

After revisiting the crime scene and interviewing a few more witnesses, including two of Caroline Ivers' close friends, Vanessa had finished her profile and sent it to Goren and Bishop that morning. It had taken Bobby all of two minutes to gather his portfolio and hit the street. She knew he was going to pick up the Wall Street boyfriend as soon as he got a warrant issued. Bishop hadn't arrived at work yet but he wasn't about to wait for her. When he had left alone, Eames had shot her a glance, barely holding back a smirk. They both knew there was no way in hell Goren would wait for Bishop to show up before making this bust.

Rayden ambled over to Eames' desk, perching herself on the edge of it. "So just how pissed do you think Bishop is going to be when she gets here and he's taken off without her?"

Eames let the smirk come over her face as she replied, "Pretty pissed."

Rayden smirked back. "Sucks to be the new kid."

"Heh." Eames' hand suddenly went to her belly, but dropped back to her side after a minute.

"You okay?"

"Yeah...he's just taking gymnastics lessons this morning." She rolled her eyes.

Rayden turned to face Eames more directly. "You still sleeping? Ava said she couldn't sleep more than an hour or two by the end of both pregnancies."

Alex nodded. "It's rough...I did manage to get about five hours last night though." She reached into her desk. "Take a look...the most recent ones..." She handed Vanessa several ultrasound photos detailing the baby's face and body.

"That's pretty amazing." She examined the pictures closely, admiring the baby's little nose, eyes, hands. "Remember when he looked kind of like a worm?"

Eames laughed. "Yeah...now he looks like a baby. It's kind of reassuring that if for some reason he appears before the due date he won't look too creepy."

"Yeah, I guess...don't take offense to this, but all newborns seem to look kind of creepy to me!" Eames grinned and Rayden handed the pictures back to her. Eames took them, but nodded toward Goren's desk before shoving them back in the drawer. Bishop was there and had pulled out her chair. She sat down, looking around as though expecting her partner to appear out of thin air any minute. She was scanning her desk when suddenly her eyes flew open wide and she sucked in her breath so loudly that Rayden and Eames both heard her several desks away. Her head flew up and, seeing the two of them, she stood and quickly made her way to them.

"You have the profile? Isn't it policy for detectives to take down a suspect together?"

Vanessa stood awkwardly, facing Bishop. "Um, the profile is just a guide of who to look for...it's nothing more than that...the evidence decides who you arrest. If you all had evidence that the profile confirms, it's possible Goren went to get a warrant..."

"He's your husband," Bishop seethed through clenched teeth. "Surely you know more than that."

Rayden shrugged. "Not really...we do our jobs at work and that's it."

Eames cleared her throat. "My guess is he went to get the warrant. I'm sure he'll call you once he's ready to pick the guy up."

"Of course he will, because he does everything by the book, doesn't he?" Bishop snapped before storming back to her desk. Now she was pacing. Rayden didn't envy her husband. She didn't expect it would be too much fun to deal with Bishop when he got back.

Eames and Rayden looked at each other, then Eames shrugged and Rayden made her way back to her office. As she turned around to sit in her chair, she saw Goren with the warrant in his hand, approaching Bishop. She grabbed her coat and followed him.

Rayden couldn't wait for interrogation.

****************************************

She joined Deakins and Carver in the observation room. Bishop and Goren were flanking Brandon Johnson on either side.

"How sure are we that he did this?" Carver asked with his usual cautious pessimism.

"He fits the profile," Vanessa replied, and Deakins added, "We recovered DNA...it was a ten point match. We'll get a confession out of him. Rayden thinks he's pretty tightly wound...right?"

She nodded. "If you provoke him the right way, he'll crack. The same way he did with Caroline."

Goren's voice had escalated as he talked with Johnson's attorney. Rayden could see the surprise on Bishop's face. She'd never been through an interrogation with Goren before, didn't know his quirks and tricks with suspects. It might play to their benefit that Bishop appear to be so shocked. Johnson might just identify with Goren's anger, if they could change their tactics.

She knocked on the glass, letting the detectives know they needed to stop the interview. Carver turned to her. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you a conviction," she replied.

Goren and Bishop entered the observation room. "What do you have?" Goren asked them.

Deakins and Carver turned to Rayden. "Ask her," replied Deakins, crossing his arms and smirking.

"We need to provoke his anger toward women," she explained. "He's already seen you slightly escalate, Bobby. The fact his attorney is a woman plays in our favor. Go in there and talk him up. I'll join you in a few minutes and lay down the DNA evidence, enough to piss him off, then you close in for the kill."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Bishop interrupted. "Floss my teeth and watch?"

Rayden put her hands on her hips. "That'll do," she said. "And you might want to take notes."

"Captain-" But Goren had already headed back into the interview room.

He was good. He talked about the drugs they had found in Caroline's system, her sexual escapades, how she pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. How some women couldn't be trusted. How sometimes he wondered if he could trust his own wife, because you know how women could bat their eyelashes and make virtually anything happen.

She interrupted them then. "Mr. Johnson? I'm Dr. Rayden." She made no effort to shake his hand but sat across from him, in the most challenging position in the room. She needed him to see her as a challenge to his power. "I'm a forensic psychologist. Do you know what that is?"

He sat back, looking annoyed. "Why don't you tell me?" he drawled.

She smiled. "Well," she said, speaking particularly condescendingly slow, "it means I'm the one who sent the detectives out for you, and I'm the one who's going to put you in jail for life." She tossed a folder on the table. "We have DNA evidence that conclusively proves you were the one who raped and sodomized Caroline Ivers. We have the gun and it's only a matter of time before we have a positive fingerprint. Even if we don't, juries don't like rapists. And they really don't like rapists who kill their victims."

Brandon Johnson leaned forward smugly. "We were in a relationship. We had sex."

She wagged a finger at him. "No, no...no jury is going to buy that when they see what happened to your girlfriend. The trauma she went through...the stabs to her uterus...and then the shot to the head. Your DNA is all over her...all over her torn and bruised body. Nobody in their right mind is going to believe that you made sweet love to her before she went out and was brutally killed less than an hour later." She handed the file to Goren. "Detective...your evidence...try not to mess it up." She smiled once more at Johnson, then leaned forward. "Lovely to see you. The next time we meet, I suspect, will be at your sentencing."

She turned and left the room. It was in Goren's hands now.

And like a well-oiled machine, Goren led him into his own confession. The forensic psychologist was a bitch, Goren said, probably led a life just like Caroline's. Wouldn't be surprised if she ended up the same way.

And Johnson smiled, took the bait, and said if that bitch had a boyfriend like him, she'd be ending up exactly like Caroline. Exactly what she deserved.

And Goren cocked his head and smiled, asking how he did it. Got the details. Two sentences in, over his attorney's protests, Johnson realized he'd been had but admitted he didn't care any more. It was worth it, to feel that bitch's life drain out of her. After all, she had drained him of his.

Rayden turned to Bishop. "Next time," she said, "is your turn."

Bishop didn't respond, but Rayden noticed she had jotted several lines down on a piece of paper.

************************************

Friday night found them lying in bed watching a movie.

"You're a homebody," he commented halfway through as he took another bite out of a sandwich.

"Is there something wrong with that? I spend about sixty hours a week working, just like you...when I'm off, I like to spend my time alone with you, in my home, enjoying my husband and my house and my dog." She reached out to rub Bruce's belly, as if to emphasize her final point.

He made a face. "You gonna use that hand to eat your dinner?"

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe...I'll try to remember not to use the one I shoved up his ass."

He snickered and offered her a bite of his sandwich. "Just don't touch it," he directed. "I don't want unnecessary germs on my dinner."

Watching him carefully, she stuck her tongue out and licked the top piece of bread before taking a bite. "Thanks!"

"Classy, Rayden," he said. He took a long look at his sandwich before deciding he'd go ahead and eat it again. He took another large bite.

She started laughing. "You can't be serious...all the places you've had your own mouth and you're worried that I licked your sandwich?"

He stared at her for a minute, watching her amusement, before laying his sandwich back on its napkin on the end table. "You make a very good point. Maybe I'm done with my dinner...there are better things to be tasting around here." And with that he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips to her throat, sucking and tickling her.

She burst into laughter as his tongue fluttered first against her throat and then her earlobe and his fingers danced over her waist, lifting her tank top. "Bobby!" she squealed, feeling his hands moving up to her breasts. He wasn't wasting any time. His tongue was still tickling her earlobe, but now his fingers were pinching her nipples teasingly. She began to squirm, trying to get him to either get serious or get off of her.

He pulled his face away from hers, grinning. "What?" he asked. "I thought we were hungry."

"I'm not your dinner!" she giggled as he returned to sucking her neck. He stopped to lick one of his fingers and dipped it into her navel. "Bobby!"

"Okay, okay," he laughed, moving back just a bit. "Here...take this off." He tugged at the tank and she reached down and pulled it over her head, tossing it onto the floor. He looked immensely pleased with her, but she blocked him with a hand to the chest.

"Now you," she directed, nodding at his flannel pajama bottoms. "Lose 'em."

Five minutes later he had turned her giggles into long sighs and murmurs of pleasure, and her hands were exploring him thoroughly. She knew he loved being touched, and she spent a great deal of time stroking his chest and his arms, listening to the pleasant sounds coming from deep in his throat. His body was warm and soft, hard and firm, comfortable against hers. He was stroking her belly, one of his favorite places. "I love your body," she sighed, and she heard him chuckle softly.

"You feel good," he murmured, brushing his lips against the skin on her abdomen, over one of her scars. She thought about how far they had come, how she used to tense and dread him touching her scars. Now she looked forward to it. If it were ever possible to remove a scar with tongue laving, he would have done it by now. He was gently suckling up and down one of the marks, and she knew she'd have plenty of evidence tomorrow of the fact that her husband really liked to take his time with her.

She was running her hands through his wavy hair, enjoying the feel of him. "Do you ever fantasize about doing this with other women?" she wondered aloud, before correcting herself. "Wait, don't answer that."

He laughed against her skin. "I only like it with you," he said teasingly. "I promise."

"Mmm." She stretched her body out, long, and felt his fingers wandering down to her thighs, over her skin, and his tongue followed lazily. A few minutes later and he was gently kissing and nibbling behind her knee, then blowing on the spots he had kissed. She shuddered.

She heard the pride in his voice. "You always like that. You always have." He nipped her again, gently, before crawling back up next to her. "You want to?"

"Do what? Play checkers?"

He grinned. "Is that what you kids call it these days?"

"Very funny!" She reached between them and touched his erection gently. "Have I mentioned how much I love the weekends?"

"Hmmm...you know, we could do this during the week more, if you wanted to..."

"You got the energy for that?"

He breathed her in. "No," he admitted. "But I have the energy for now." He pressed one of his hands on the opposite side of her body and his lips against her jaw, sliding his tongue along her jawline. "I love you."

"Hey, stud." She ran her hands up his chest to his shoulders. "The condoms are in the nightstand, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." He opened the drawer and grabbed one, then sat up for a second to slip it on. "Is this going to ruin it?"

"Not a chance," she answered, shifting against him, adjusting their contact, as he rested himself on his elbows and guided himself inside her.

His movements were relaxed. She ran her hands over his back, then spread them above her head, pressing her knees on either side of his hips. They took their time; he curled his back to fit her and lowered his mouth to her breasts. She sighed as he moved against her rhythmically, feeling the pleasure ebb and flow through her. Maybe he was right, she thought dreamily. Maybe this connection was all they needed to parent a child. Genetics might be overrated. Environment was an important factor. God that felt good. She tried to stifle the moan, but it caught her off guard, and he smiled. "I like it when you do that...please, don't refrain on my account."

She watched him moving over her, moved with him, gently rocking her hips against his. "What else don't you want me to refrain from?"

"Hmmm...dirty..." he whispered into her ear, picking up his speed. His fingers ran up and down one of her arms, cupping her breast, then capturing her mouth with his own. She entangled her wrists in the headboard and arched toward him, feeling her climax just seconds away. "Bobby." She didn't know if she said it to please him or to please herself. It was too intermingled for her to know. A moment later she heard her own name, heavily in her own ear, as he thrust twice more and pressed against her body.

Her eyes closed and she felt his body relax over hers for a moment before he moved away from her. She heard him enter the bathroom and she stretched once more. He knew her better than anyone. Making love with him was so, so good, and she felt warm and content and relaxed. She seemed to see her body through his eyes instead of her own now, and felt very satisfied with herself physically. In fact, she was pretty sure she was hot.

She opened her eyes when he jumped back on the bed, collapsing next to her naked. For a man in his mid-forties, he was pretty sexy, she thought. The imperfections of his body--the love handles, the slight belly he was developing, the scars--were charming to her.

"Have I mentioned to you lately how hot you are?" She made no attempt to cover any part of her body, and he smiled lazily, resting a hand on her belly.

"No, but I knew you thought so. I used my profiling skills to figure it out."

She laughed.

His hand stroked over her belly again. "Do you believe in fate?"

"Hmm...I'm not sure...why?"

"The condom broke."

He was remarkably calm, so calm that she thought for a moment he was teasing her. But then he continued. "Two pieces...it definitely broke...I guess it's a sign from God."

"Or a sign from the drug store that they sell old condoms."

"Or a sign that I'm a more passionate lover than we realized."

She snickered. "Or a sign that you're as stacked as we thought."

Now he snorted. "Very funny." He kissed her cheek gently. "Do you know where you are in your cycle?"

"We should be okay."

"If we're not, I'm okay with it." His fingers ran down her arm again. "I've been doing some research...I'm really trying to be okay with this. I think we should throw the rubbers out."

She shook her head. "You're not ready yet...you're not comfortable with this...this was just an accident..."

He sighed. "Okay, fine...but if I decide not to wear one next time, you can't make me."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he winked at her. "You do have beautiful breasts," he commented. "I bet they would be very efficient at nursing."

She rolled her eyes. "I forgot how the beauty of the breast affects its ability to produce milk."

He lay back down next to her. "I want us to have a family, one way or another. Will you promise me at least that?"

She caught his pinky finger in hers. "Yeah. I promise." And he lay his head on her stomach, content.