Beneath the Cracks by LS Sygnet

did we ever ask without makin' sure you knew you had the
absolute right to decline?"
    "I tried last night!" 
    Forceful words made the burly detective
cower just a little bit.
    "And when I even remotely indicated that I
was less than interested in being part of this, you acted like I
simply don't care if homeless men are being murdered – because
they're homeless, so who cares?  Wasn't that what you implied
last night, Briscoe?"
    "I just figured –"
    "You could guilt me into do what you wanted regardless of how I feel about working with law enforcement
again."
    "Helen, if this is how you really feel, Tony
and I will meet with Orion.  We'll take you home and go to him
and get the information.  Take some time.  Think about
what you want.  If working with us isn't an option anymore,
we'll respect it," Crevan said.  "Nobody wants you feeling
bullied into helping solve this case or any other."
    "Fine."  I stomped past them and sat in
the back of their unmarked car waiting for the ride home. 
Both men were uncharacteristically quiet as Conall drove through
winding neighborhoods that eventually led to the cliff where my
house sat waiting for my return.
    Briscoe muttered something to his partner, a what's this , when he approached the gated driveway. 
Another sedan blocked the entrance.
    My heart leapt into the back of my
throat.  "Thanks for the ride, guys.  I've got this."
    "Helen, do you know –?"
    I didn't stick around for the rest of
Crevan's question.  I slammed the door to the Crown Victoria
and marched across the street to another, with men in suits waiting
for my return.  There was no question necessary.  I knew
who I'd find inside.
    Mark Seleeby.
    Like I said.  When it rains, it
pours.
    The automatic window hummed and revealed his
knowing smirk.  It was a real gotcha moment for
Seleeby, and he wasn't hiding it.  "Nice digs, Eriksson."
    "What are you doing here?"
    "I came to have a chat.  Aren't you
gonna invite me inside?"
    "Have you got a warrant?"
    "Do I have to get one?"
    I crossed my arms over my chest and glared
across the street at where Briscoe and Conall were still sitting in
their car.  "Yeah, Seleeby, I think you do need a
warrant.  I already told you if you wanted to talk to me, it
wouldn't be without an attorney.  Legally, you don't have the
right to ask me questions outside his presence."
    "I hear Jerry Lowe's got a great criminal
attorney, Helen.  Maybe you ought to give him a call." 
Snickers rose from the agents in tow, neither of which included
David Levine. 
    So Seleeby had gotten rid of my protector
and was making a second run at me for the murder of Rick
Hamilton.  It wasn't completely unexpected, but to say that I
welcomed round two of life under the bureau's microscope was
inaccurate.
    "You already searched my home.  There's
nothing in this house that I owned prior to moving to Darkwater
Bay.  Get your warrant.  I'll fight it tooth and nail and
slap you with a harassment suit just for fun, Seleeby.  Now,
if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave my
property."
    "It's a public street," Seleeby grinned.
    "Not the part you're sitting on," I pointed
to my driveway.  "This is private property.  You wanna
stake out my house?  Be my guest, but you'll do it from public
land.  At least until my lawyer can file an injunction barring
you from continuing this harassment."
    "Good luck with that, sweetheart," Seleeby
grinned.  "We got the murder weapon.  And guess who it's
registered to?"
    "Screw you, Mark," I called his bluff. 
Got the murder weapon, huh?  Not possible.  Not only was
the gun buried in sludge at the bottom of the Potomac, it was in
various locations, left in numerous pieces.  Dad taught me
well.  Oh, and it wasn't registered to anybody – except for
the owner it had probably been stolen from.  I held out my
wrists.  "Go ahead.  Arrest me if you really have this
evidence."
    He glared, but made no move to accept my
offer of surrender to