Irrefutable Evidence Part Seven by CN Winters

See part one for disclaimers. Write the author at

Sara followed Denise’s lead and hugged the tile of the kitchen. Denise went into a roll to avoid another round aimed in her direction. She instinctively reached to the left side of her body for her gun but came up empty. She silently cursed herself. She had gotten far too comfortable over the last week because her holster was hanging on her dresser; not her shoulder where it belonged.

She darted to the bedroom at break neck speed and with a quick swing of her arms, the holster was in place. She dashed to the living room where she heard another shot. Denise picked up the phone but it was dead.

Very slick. You’ve cut the phone line, Denise thought as she moved into a defensive stance by the patio door. She ripped down the drapes giving her a greater field of vision. That’s when she saw someone scurry through the shrubbery outside.

The small breakfast nook that separated the dinning room from the kitchen protected Sara. She crept along on her stomach to watch Denise pick up a dinning room chair and hurl it through the screen.

"What are you doing?!" Sara yelled as Denise destroyed her house.

"I told you to get down," Denise snapped. Quickly she fired two rounds into the bushes. "Come here!" Denise ordered.

Sara ran over to Denise and got behind her, awaiting the next order.

"Go into the bedroom. Stay low. Pack some of our clothes," Denise instructed, being quick and precise in her dialog.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked.

"Any place but here," Denise barked before firing two more shots. "Now go!"

Sara dashed to the bedroom. She wildly piled their clothes into a carry on bag. She heard more shots exchanged, both inside and out, while her hands worked as fast as possible. Sara, who couldn’t be considered a religious person by any means, still said a small prayer for Denise.

Denise was holding her own in the fire power melee and she gave a small thanks that this person had gone with a riffle best for sharp shooting and not an automatic weapon. A barrage of bullets would have certainly done them in but as it stood, trading shot for shot, Denise knew they had a very good chance. She reloaded her weapon as Sara returned, flight bag in hand. Denise spoke to Sara as she looked into the chamber, loading more rounds.

"Got everything?" Denise asked.

"Yes. I believe so . . . No wait. My satchel," Sara said running back to her bedroom. Moments later she arrived next to Denise again.

"NOW have you got everything?" Denise asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "What the hell is in that bag anyway?" Denise asked.

Sara didn’t have time to answer. The assassin was making their move closer as round after round hit the house. Denise realized they didn’t have much time.

"Go open the front door but use the wall as cover. Someone might be out there in the front," Denise instructed. She fired another round as Sara darted over to the front door. "Ready?" Denise asked when she saw Sara’s hand on the door.

"Ready." Sara replied, swallowing hard. Her mouth had become arid with the adrenaline rush.

Denise moved to the other side pointing her gun.

"Now!" she said firmly.

Sara flung the door open as Denise crept up to the frame ready for anything. She scanned all directions and she didn’t see anyone.

"Now’s our chance," she told Sara. "Let’s go!"

Denise started out first running in a zigzag pattern that Sara mimicked. If anyone was out there, Denise wasn’t going to let them get a clear shot at them. "You drive," Denise said once they were at the car. She tossed Sara the keys, "Go to the airport."

Sara threw the car into reverse and floored it. Once they were on the pavement, Sara slammed on the brakes and put it in drive. It was then that Denise saw the gunwoman, beginning to give chase on foot, hoping for a lucky shot.

"Gooooooo!" Denise yelled. Sara tromped it, leaving the attacker in a cloud of gray smoke as the tires found traction. They both sighed in relief when they turned the sharp corner escaping any shots from behind them.

"Floor it and keep it floored," Denise ordered. "We need as much distance as possible."

Denise reloaded her gun again as Sara raced along the bare stretch of road.

"How did they find us?" Denise asked, with her heart almost pounding in her chest. "Are you sure this house isn’t in your name?"

"Positive," Sara said. "It’s still in the trust account like I told back in Detroit. I don’t know how they got to us here," she panted just as hard as Denise.

"Be honest," Denise began. "Did you tell anyone at home where you were? Did you call anyone in the States?"

"No," Sara insisted.

"No one?" Denise pressed.

"No. Not a single person. The only one who knows we’re here is Nancy," Sara answered. Soon Sara realized that statement wasn’t exactly true. The realization made her a bit nervous, " . . . and Angie," she added quietly, not daring to look at Denise’s reaction.

When Denise didn’t say anything curiosity got the better of her and Sara had to look over.

"Well it’s not Angie," Denise said confidently yet fidgeted in her seat.

"Okay. Then who else knows we’re here?" Sara asked.

Denise didn’t answer. It was obvious she was lost in thought. "Maybe someone found out about the trust and decided to look here since you’re not in the city anymore."

"Perhaps," Sara answered agreeable. The fact that Denise’s partner was the only person to know still loomed in the air although neither woman expanded on it for the time being. For five minutes, not a word passed between them.

"I know it’s not Angie," Denise said firmly breaking the silence, trying to convince Sara; maybe even herself. "I know it’s not her."

Sara simply nodded in agreement. They made it to the car rental station and quickly dropped of the keys at the front desk, cutting ahead of everyone in the line. People grumbled in protest but Denise’s stature and steely gaze shut them up almost as quickly as their grips began. Moments later they were dashing inside the airport to the first ticket counter they came to. Denise flashed her badge this time and took a spot in front of everyone.

"When’s the next available flight leaving?" Denise asked the ticket clerk, showing her brass off to the clerk as well. She punched something into the computer before turning back to Denise.

"In twenty minutes," she said. "Boarding has begun."

"Okay," Denise said, "Give me two tickets." With that Denise tossed her credit card on the counter.

"Yes ma’am," the clerk said as she punch in the information. Denise’s fingers nervously tapped the counter as they waited for their tickets.

"What’s the destination for the flight we’ve purchased?" Sara asked the clerk politely.

"Montreal, Quebec."

Denise and Sara looked at each other. "Canada?" they said in harmony.

"We’re going to Canada?" Sara asked Denise.

Denise turned to the clerk. "Don’t you have a flight going to the U.S.?"

"There’s a flight going to JFK in New York. But that doesn’t leave for another two hours."

"Looks like we’re going to Canada," Denise informed Sara. The blonde could send Denise’s growing impatience. The clerk then walked away and she began talking to a co-worker. The fact she was giggling as she talked only made Denise’s impatience worse.

"Can we get our tickets before the plant leaves the ground?" Denise hollered across the counter.

"I’m waiting for the boarding passes to be printed," the clerk snapped, obviously unhappy with Denise interrupting her conversation.

Denise paced in frustration as the clerk took longer than necessary to get Denise’s signature for the purchase. A few moments later the clerk handed them their tickets and pointed out directions. Sara opened her ticket and examined it carefully.

"What? No first class?" Sara teased.

Denise rolled her eyes and she pulled Sara by the arm. "Will you come on?" Denise ordered, dragging the blonde away. They ran frantically, dodging slower human traffic left and right. When they saw the metal detectors Denise slowed down and got her paperwork in order. She waited impatiently, tapping her foot again, until they gave her clearance. Soon Denise had Sara by the hand and the pair took off running again.

When they turned the corner to their terminal they watched as the attendant began shutting the door.

"Wait!" Denise yelled to the young man. He turned and began to open it again. Denise came to a quick stop. Quicker than Sara who bumped into her as the attendant took the boarding pass. Afterward they jogged to the plane. Denise and Sara both panted as the flight attendant took them to their seats.

"I want the widow seat this time," Sara called out in a ragged breath.

"Fine . . . Hey wait! You have acrophobia?"

"Yes I do," Sara said.

"Then why-."

"Because I told you," Sara began, "Being indoors is different. I’m not out in the open. Besides that, the chances of us falling are astronomical."

"I wouldn’t say that," Denise argued, "With our luck I’d be surprised if this sucker doesn’t fall out of the sky over Boston."

"Well thank you very much Ms. Optimism," Sara replied. "I know our luck hasn’t been all that great but we are doing okay. We’re not dead yet are we?"

"I notice that you used the word ‘yet’," Denise rebutted unable to hide her chuckle.

"Very funny," Sara answered. "I think things will be okay now. If you’re right about Angie no one is going to find us now."

"Perhaps," Denise agreed. "But let’s not get too comfortable again, okay?"

"Fine . . . I’m going to take a nap now so I won’t get comfortable later," Sara grinned snuggling into Denise’s shoulder. "It might not be a bad idea if you get some rest as well," Sara said before closing her eyes.

Denise quietly studied Sara’s beauty. Her hopeful attitude was refreshing to say the least. Denise spent so many years as a cop listening to people who had given up . . . given up on the system, given up on each other and given up on themselves. To be around someone with so much optimism and spirit was delightful. By being around Sara, Denise realized that she too had begun to give up.

Denise had rooted herself to the theory that she would never find anyone who would want her as much as she wanted them. Denise had given up on love . . . at least until Sara Langforth stumbled shoeless into her life. That fact made Denise realize that this ‘love’ could be nothing more than infatuation – a hormonal rush brought on by extreme circumstances and a pretty face. Great. My life is becoming a bad B-sex scandal movie, Denise considered with a quiet chuckle to herself. Of course I’d be the Michael Douglas/Bruce Willis character and Sara would be the pretty young rising star of the day that’s half the age of either man. Hypocrisy. Gotta love it.

Denise tried to close her eyes too but her mind was too busy compiling a list – calling Nancy to close up Sara’s home, checking with the Bahamas authorities to see if they could track down anyone at the house and of course, calling back to Detroit with the latest development. Denise looked over at Sara again to see her curled up. Quickly Denise’s sense of duty slipped away. She sighed in a light whisper, "Sara Langforth, whatever am I going to do about you?" The soft-spoken question was open to many interpretations but the case was the last thing on Denise’s mind as she too closed her eyes to get some rest.



Hours later, Sara sat in bewilderment as Denise spoke to the taxi driver who was racing through the streets of Montreal.

"I didn’t know you spoke French!" Sara exclaimed.

"Yeah. I’m bisexual and bilingual. There’s a lot of duality in my life," Denise said with a wink.

"Je parle francais aussi," Sara said.

Denise’s eyes got wide. "Vous parlons francais aussi?!"

"Oui," Sara nodded. "But I’m not bisexual or bilingual. I also speak a little Spanish and German . . . And I’ll never really like men."

"Okay, first off, how is it you speak three languages?" Denise asked.

"Four," Sara corrected. "Let’s not forget English," she teased.

Denise chuckled. "Okay four."

Sara soaked up Denise smile for a moment. "My family traveled a lot in Europe – that’s where I picked up my French and German. Spanish came from our housekeeper, Maria. When I was old enough she taught me swear words too with the promise I’d never use them," Sara chuckled.

Denise nodded. "Okay and as for men. You don’t like men? At all?"

"Well I like men. I have a fair amount of male friends but I’ll never be sexually attracted to them . . . Never have and never will."

"You’ve never had a boyfriend? Ever?" Denise asked in disbelief.

"When I was a teenager I dated a couple of guys but it never felt right. You know . . . no electricity or fireworks."

"Maybe it was just the guy you were seeing?" Denise offered.

"No," Sara grinned. "I remember how all my friends would gossip about all the ‘cute’ guys. I never felt attracted to any of them . . . But Mary Tompson now . . . she was perfection in my eyes but I didn’t dare mention it," Sara said with a smile.

"How many boyfriends did you have?" Denise prodded. "If you don’t mind me asking," she added realizing that the conversation was getting a tad more detailed than she expected.

"Let’s see," Sara said looking up, thinking as she chewed on her lip. "There was Tom, Dave and John. Tom was the first guy I dated and kissed. It was okay but nothing like when I kissed Jennifer at summer camp. She wanted to ‘practice’ kissing for the real thing . . . we practiced a lot that summer," Sara chuckled. "I realized at 14 I was different . . . or should I say happily unique."

"What happened with the other two guys?" Denise asked.

"Well Dave . . . I dated him in high school but he was more interested in my anatomy than me. And John . . . I loved John dearly. He became my first lover . . . and my fiancée actually."

"You were engaged?" Denise asked.

"Yep," Sara replied. "Hard to believe huh?" she laughed.

"What happened?" Denise asked, shifting in her seat to face Sara. This conversation was getting good.

"I went away to school out east while he went to the University of Michigan."

"Where?" Denise asked.

"Yale," Sara replied. "My parents wanted me to be a lawyer so I went to law school for them. That’s when I was in my ‘I’ve gotta make mom and dad proud’ phase."

"Wait a second," Denise said holding her hands up. "You have a law degree from Yale but you sell real estate?"

Sara chuckled. "I said I went to Yale. I didn’t say I graduated," she answered before raising her finger. "Now let me finish so it will all make sense."

"Sorry," Denise said sheepishly. "Please continue."

"Okay," Sara sighed. "Now where was I . . . oh yes, John. Anyway while I was away I met my roommates friend. Rita was her name. Instantly I felt all those ‘sparks’ I’ve heard people talk about. One night while we were studying alone for a test, I could feel her eyes all over me. I asked her what she was thinking and she said she was wondering what it would be like to make love to me. Just hearing her utter those words turned me on more than any sexual experience of my life. And my entire life changed that night.

At Christmas break I went home and told John I loved him but I couldn’t marry him. He thought it was his fault . . . that he ‘drove’ me to a woman somehow. But I explained that he fell in love with a woman who realized she was a lesbian trying her best to be straight. He was a good man and he deserved to find the kind of love he needed. And with the engagement off, I knew I had to tell my folks the truth . . . so I did."

"They didn’t take it well I assume?" Denise asked already anticipating the answer.

Sara sighed long and deep. "My parents were ‘old fashioned’. They couldn’t see how their daughter could leave a wonderful man for a perverse lifestyle . . . They pulled my college funding . . . I spent a few months wandering until I decided real estate looked like a good option. So I took the classes, passed the exam and found a broker to work for. After a few years, I was able to take the broker test and I became my own boss. And there you have it."

"I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better with your folks . . . Did you ever make amends?"

"In their minds," Sara began, "Yes they did. They kept me in the will to a certain extent. It would look bad if they didn’t include their only daughter so I’m sure that’s why I got a slice of the ‘pie’ my brother was given . . . I see more and more people come out over the years and things are getting better and better. Don’t get me wrong. We’ve got a long way to go but I think if we educate people more, the better life will become for everyone. Ignorance is the base of all social problems in the world whether it’s about race, religion or sexuality."

Denise smiled but she couldn’t meet Sara’s eyes. "I know you’re going to be offended," Denise warned as she played with her fingernails, "but I have to say you sound a bit hypocritical."

"You think I’m a hypocrite," Sara replied in astonishment.

"Well maybe hypocrite is a bit harsh," Denise conceded. "Perhaps just a little stereotypical in your views."

"Oh really," Sara responded, obviously still offended. "What makes you say that?"

Denise paused to chose the right words. "When we met you asked what it was like to sit on the sexual fence, as if I can’t make up my mind to be gay or straight. Maybe you’ve been fed by the stereotypes of your gay and straight friends?"

Sara smiled. Denise had her. Sara couldn’t understand bisexuality so she made assumptions about Denise.

"You’re absolutely right," Sara willingly admitted. "And I apologize."

"Apology accepted," Denise nodded.

"But then again, perhaps you’re not entirely correct about my stereotypical behavior," Sara added.

"How’s that?"

"Maybe I wanted you to be a lesbian because I know how I felt the moment I saw you," Sara cooed.

Denise smiled nervously. She was knocked slightly off balance by the sexy confession as well as the possibility of an impending argument.

"Wasn’t my bisexuality enough?" Denise offered. "I think you have a lot of friends who also think that bi’s can’t make up their minds . . . Be honest Sara. If we got involved romantically would you feel comfortable with your friends knowing that I liked men too?"

"Got me again," Sara agreed. "Guess I am a bigot huh?"

"No," Denise countered. "You’re not a bigot. You’re just misinformed. So let me spell it out for you. I’m looking for the right person. Not the right gender. In actuality my life is much more easier because I’m not surrounded by a box . . . my dating options are wide open," she chuckled.

Sara chuckled too, "That’s one way to look at it." The cab grew quiet for a moment until Sara asked, "So do you think you’ll ever find the right person?"

Yeah. I gotta feeling I’m lookin’ at her right now. "Someday," Denise answered a loud with a fair amount of neutrality.

The taxi came to a stop in front of the hotel and Denise paid the driver. They walked inside the lobby, tastefully decorated with antiques with an 1800’s feel – warm and rustic. After a few moments a woman approached them.

"Do you have a double room?" Denise asked the counter person.

"No I’m sorry. All I have is two suites this week," the woman said in a heavy French accent.

"How much is the suite?" Denise asked, fearing the answer.

"Five hundred and ninety a night," she responded.

Denise turned to Sara wide eyed, "She actually said that figure with a straight face."

Sara grinned. "Let’s not get into another ‘straight’ discussion dear," Sara teased patting Denise’s arm before turning to the attendant. "Do you have a weekly rate?" she asked the clerk in French.

"Qui," the clerk said as she looked through a ledger on the counter. "3500 a week and it is available."

"We’ll take that," Sara said handing over four one thousand dollar bills.

"Jesus," Denise whispered. "You carry that kind of cash on you."

Sara just grinned. "Told I was loaded," she teased.

"No kidding. But still, are you sure you want to stay here?" Denise asked in a whisper. "It’s still a bit expensive don’t you think?"

"Not really. Any place we visit here is going to cost us just as much if not more. This way we know we have a room for the week. We can do searching and pricing later. It might not be a bad idea to hop from place to place all over Ontario. We’ll put the room in your name…Jane Smith," Sara winked.

"I always wanted to check into a hotel using an alias. It makes me seem . . . naughty," Denise chuckled.

"I’ve got lots of ways to make you feel naughty," Sara cooed pulling Denise down so she could whisper in her ear. "All you have to do is ask."

The tiny hairs on Denise’s neck stood on end with the feel of Sara’s breath in her ear and the ardent words. The lieutenant couldn’t move if their lives depended upon it. A moment later the clerk came into view. Thank god Denise thought in a silent prayer.

Denise handed the registration to the clerk as the clerk gave Sara a receipt. The bellhop grabbed the key and their bags. After arriving at the room and getting settled, Sara tipped the man $100 and asked that he bring up some more bath towels and pillows. He was more than happy to oblige.

Finally Denise and Sara were alone again. Sara announced that she’d take their bags to the bedroom as Denise strolled around, taking things in.

Denise walked off to the left and into the bathroom. Huge failed to describe its size. It had a mirrored jacuzzi in the far right corner and directly across a stand up shower that looked big enough for the Detroit Lions offensive line. She smiled as she imagined Sara’s sultry body covered in bubbles. Sara caught Denise’s grin in the mirrors' reflection when she walked up behind her.

"Looks like fun," Sara said with a mischievous grin. She began to play with the ends of Denise’s chestnut colored hair. Denise tried to lose her smile and Sara giggled at the officer’s reaction. "Relax Denise," the blonde soothed. She gently gripped Denise’s arms as she stood behind Denise. "I won’t bite . . . Not unless you ask me."

Denise smiled again. Sara released her hold and began to smooth them up and down instead. Goosebumps popped up from Denise’s flesh as Sara continued to caress Denise’s skin in silence.

"Cold?" Sara asked, shattering the quietness, filling the large room with a small echo. "Should I turn up the heat?"

Denise couldn’t respond vocal but her body was telling Sara everything the blonde wanted to hear. Denise closed her eyes. She knew Sara could still see her facial expression in the mirror but she didn’t want Sara to see her eyes. Her eyes would say far too much.

Suddenly Denise felt her hair being pushed to one side in delicate strokes. She didn’t resist. Sara wondered if Denise would flee like she did in times past but for now she remained stationary. So Sara pushed on.

She stood on tiptoes and began to plant light kisses on Denise’s exposed neck and upper back. Denise kept her eyes closed even as her breathing grew more and more quick and uneven. She watched as Denise tilted her head invitingly. She watched as Denise licked her lips softly, as if preparing to be kissed.

"Sara," Denise struggled, trying to get her name out to break the spell she was falling under.

Sara ignored the attempt. "So I lied," Sara whispered. "I do bite."

This time Sara pitched Denise’s flesh harder with her teeth, letting her tongue dance around the captured skin. Denise’s mouth opened and a moan escaped. The sound pressed Sara on further. Her hands eased down and around Denise’s hips, pulling the officer into her body. Denise could feel Sara’s arousal through the thin material of their blouses and she sighed again.

"We have to stop," Denise offered weakly.

"Can’t stop," Sara whispered, tickling Denise’s ears with the words, her desire making her short of breath and unable to form a full articulate sentence. "Want you too much."

Sara’s hands slinked up the front of Denise’s body stopping at her breasts. Sara squeezed them softly, feeling their height and firmness. Sara continued to work her lips on Denise’s neck while teasing Denise’s nipples with steady fingertips. Denise didn’t flee. She didn’t argue. She simply placed her hands over Sara’s.

Their fingers intertwined and continued caressing Denise’s body. Watching Denise aid and instruct her on how Denise liked to be touched aroused Sara even more. Sara could feel the wetness between her thighs grow damper and damper. They both groaned as Denise threw her head back, resting it on top of Sara’s. Sara took the cue and began to slowly unbutton Denise’s shirt, from top to bottom. Once again to Sara’s delight, Denise was more than willing.

"I need you," Sara sighed wantonly. She continued to nip at Denise’s earlobe. She was soaring as she felt Denise letting go with each button that came loose.

Denise could feel Sara’s wet lips and hot breath against her ear. She couldn’t withstand refusing Sara. Denise knew she was moving farther and farther away from reality with each tender touch Sara delivered to her body that grew slicker with perspiration. After Sara had Denise’s shirt free they could finally feel the contact of skin on skin. Denise began at arousal. She traveled to enjoyment. The next stop was utopia.

"Am I making you wet?" Sara asked with seductive confidence running her hands up Denise’s sides.

"Very," Denise confessed in a whisper.

Sara moaned and gathered some of Denise’s long hair in her fist. She turned Denise’s head around and kissed her savagely. Denise didn’t fight. Far from it. She joined Sara in her feverish need.

Sara was the quintessential seductress and Denise belonged to Sara now. That voice, those fingers and those lips took hold of Denise’s senses. In the truest sense of the word, Denise was captured. She was becoming consumed by her desire for Sara, feeling her want doubling over and over within herself. She ached to scorch Sara with her lips; to give her all the passion she’d felt since the first night they had met.

As their tongues began to dance, Denise turned the rest of her body to face Sara. They were only inches away from the long, sink counter. Quick and without breaking the kiss, Denise took hold of Sara’s backside and lifted her up. She rested her in a sitting position on the counter. Denise shot down to Sara’s breast, nibbling and biting Sara through her blouse, trying to taste Sara’s salty skin through the material. In seconds, Denise’s saliva made the garment feel non-existent; as if Denise’s lips secured Sara’s flesh directly.

Sara ran her fingers through Denise’s long, silky locks pulling her closer, arching her back to meet Denise’s hungry mouth. Sara had her eyes closed as her head rested against the sink mirror. It felt exquisite but soon it wasn’t enough. Sara wanted to feel those long locks against her upper thighs as Denise’s drank in her sweetness.

"Let’s go to the bedroom . . ." Sara whispered. "Let’s make love Denise."


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