family and Pam only had the one sister. I guess I can take him till we can find a home for him.” He watched, envious, as she hugged the little dog and put him back on the floor. “It doesn’t look like anything is out of place here, so why is it that it feels all wrong? Who doesn’t listen to their messages for a week, yet feeds and cleans up after their dog, makes coffee, and takes showers?” He had to give her credit. The answering machine was the only thing in the apartment that didn’t seem to fit. All other evidence was that of a normal morning lived by a happy couple, all but the answering machine. He had left messages on his machine before, needing to get the number or the directions written down later, but in every instance he had listened to the messages first. These messages were mostly mundane, non-informational drivel, things that most people would erase immediately. What’s more, the flashing light meant that the messages had never been played in the first place.
“We’ll take the machine.” Calling to the officer in the hall, he listed the items in the apartment that were to be taken into evidence as he watched Elizabeth gather up a small box of the dog’s things. “I think we’re done here. Before we head back to the precinct do you want to drop the dog off?” At first the surprise on her face confused him until he realized that dropping the dog off meant taking him upstairs to her apartment. His heart skipped a beat at the idea of getting a peek into her highly guarded private life.
“Yeah, okay, just let me finish gathering up his stuff, unless you think all of it needs to go into evidence?” The idea turned over in his head, and his training kicked in. If the last week had been abnormal, that meant that someone else was taking care of the dog. Seeing the box of toys already gathered in her arms, he sighed.
“Actually, I think we should. Set the box down. I’ll get the C.S.I.’s to collect all his stuff right away and process it first. He should be fine in your apartment for a few hours while they clear it. You can take some food out of the bag for him, but wear gloves.” She smirked at him as she wiggled her fingers in the air. How had he not noticed she was wearing gloves already? Was he really that distracted around her? Leaving her to ready the dog, he stepped out into the hallway. He had a few more instructions for the uniform, but more importantly he needed to clear his head. A feat impossible to accomplish in her presence.
“Six, right?” A few minutes later they were standing in the elevator again with the other uniform. She nodded and he pressed the button and took a step back, coming close to her side. Bucky leaned toward him and sniffed at his gray sport coat. The little guy was cute, he had to admit. He liked dogs, though his tastes usually ran to the big slobbery kind. Smiling at the white fluff-ball, he scratched behind his ear absently as the elevator lurched and the doors opened again. Holding the baggie of dog food under his arm, he followed his k-9 laden partner down the hallway to her door. He watched as she rummaged in her small bag for her keys and as the door swung open, he stifled a gasp. Her apartment was nothing like he had pictured, though in truth, his imaginings were somewhat unrealistic to start with. He had pictured cold, uncomfortable, and sparse furniture, with more punching bags than pillows. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Her apartment was plush and stylish. Comfy and elegant tan furniture was accented by light blue walls and a variety of colorful throw pillows. A well equipped kitchen opened onto the perfectly appointed living area. The only thing that didn’t seem to fit the HGTV-esque space was the huge, built-in shelving unit covered in DVD cases and surrounding an erection-inducing wide-screen, flat-screen TV.
“Is there something wrong with my apartment, Detective Barrow?” The amusement in her voice was tinged with a little