Miss Lehane Regrets...
A/N: I said I'd follow up once the new season started. Here's what I came up with.
Faith took a drag on the cigarette. She didn’t smoke anymore, not really. But she figured Slayer healing took care of the odd one now and again. And it had been a rough night. She damn well needed a smoke.
It had taken for freaking ever for the first responders to show. Too long. Not that she really thought it would have made much of a difference. Gunshot to the neck at point blank range wasn’t very survivable. The dead guy’s Giles had shown before the medics. At least, that’s what she thought he was.
He had been an older guy, no tweed, but he had that unmistakable air of being the responsible adult who cared in the shot guy’s life.
“Warrick! Oh, God, no!”
Faith was pretty sure not-Giles hadn’t even registered her presence. He had eyes only for the guy in the car, pulling him out and propping his head up. Faith could tell it was too late for basic first aid measures, but at least Warrick would know he wasn’t dying alone or with only a stranger for company. She wondered if there would be someone there for her when it was her turn.
When the other guy showed up, saying he’d gone in pursuit of the shooter, Faith didn’t call bullshit. He had a badge and a gun. She wasn’t about to contradict him. But she hadn’t seen him running out of the alley like he’d claimed, and she was pretty sure she had happened on the vic within seconds of him getting shot. Besides, something in this other guy’s eyes wasn’t right.
Finally, other cops had shown up, along with the paramedics who were too late to do anything but call the coroner. But everyone seemed to move in slow motion once they got there. Faith realized it was going to be a while before anyone took her statement.
Eventually, after Officer Creepy had gone away, she got to talk to another detective. He wore the same shell-shocked look all the cops seemed to have.
“I’m Detective Brass, Miss…?”
“Faith Lehane. Who was he?” she asked him softly.
He looked a little like she imagined her dad would look if she had one. Balding, careworn, not a pushover. But right now he just looked like he’d lost someone.
“Who was who?” he asked in a tired voice.
“The guy who died. Warrick. He’s something to all of you. It shows.”
“He was a crime scene investigator,” Brass told her. “Night shift. Everyone here knows him.”
Faith nodded. Then, surprising herself as much as the detective, she reached out to touch his arm.
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
She meant more than just that, but there was no way she could say it all. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry not-Giles had to watch his boy die and not be able to do a damn thing about it- I know how much that feeling sucks. I’m sorry I wasn’t one minute sooner, it might have changed everything. I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’ve heard about heaven from someone who’s been there, and I know
your guy is in a better place now.
Brass must have heard part of what she meant in her voice. His nod of acknowledgement wasn’t as curt as it would have been otherwise.
“So, Miss Lehane, what can you tell me about what happened here?”
“First, it’s just Faith. I was on my way to the diner, taking the short cut down the alley. I like to come in the back way- at the front door there’s usually a crowd waiting to get a table. I came from that way, past the nightclub. I was sorta dancing to the beat, in a decent mood, you know? Then I saw the guy in the car. He was slumped over the wheel, I thought he’d had one too many. I went over to check if he was ok and saw the blood. Dialed 911 on my phone. Not long after that, the man over there came running down the alley and pulled the guy out of the car. The guy tried to speak, he wanted to say something, but…”
She trailed off with a shrug that let Brass read whatever he wanted into it. But then that other creep showed up and freaked him out.
She had noticed Officer Creepy’s hand drifting toward his gun for a split second. Fortunately, he’d been focused on Warrick and not-Giles, ignoring her. Otherwise she’d have been finding somewhere else to crash for a few days.
“The other guy, the one with the badge, showed up. He said something about having called it in and got on his radio to find out where the hell the paramedics were.”But he was lying.
Faith had done pretty much everything you weren’t supposed to do at one point or another. Lie, cheat, steal, kill. She wasn’t proud of it, but it did give her an edge most Slayers didn’t have. You don’t play a player.
And the most frustrating thing was knowing what she did but not having any good way to tell the police. She had to stick to her cover story that she was Faith Lehane, casino security consultant, normal girl, and let the police try to figure it out.