darkdreamer | Used, Chapter 35 :)

Okay, guys, here's chapter 35 :) Hope you enjoy it :) *hugs* DoS

Chapter 35
Useful Information

When Wilson parked the car outside their apartment, House visibly tensed in the passenger’s seat, staring out the window with dread, making no move to open the door. Wilson frowned with concern, but said nothing as he opened his own door and got out, hand once more ready on the handle of the pistol.

Cuddy got out of the car and opened the door that House couldn’t seem to bring himself to touch. “Come on,” she urged him gently.

She leaned down and put an arm under his arms, helping him get out of the car. He was gradually recovering, but still in quite a bit of pain from the assault. He allowed her to support part of his weight, gripping the door of the car as he pulled himself to his feet. He slowly straightened, glancing anxiously around the parking lot as Cuddy carefully released her grip on him, once she was sure his footing was steady.

He looked up, startled to see Wilson at his other side. “I’ll unlock the door,” he said, waiting until House met his eyes to add in a low, pointed voice, “Take your time.”

The unspoken message in his eyes was clear. Wilson wanted him to wait until he had made sure the apartment was safe, but he didn’t want that to be obvious to anyone who might be watching them. House felt a sense of relief at Wilson’s foresight in realizing that any display of extra caution following House’s first day at work would only serve to indicate that he had told his friends about Tritter’s threats.

Cuddy slipped her arm back under House’s shoulders, although he didn’t need the assistance, and the two of them proceeded along the sidewalk at a snail’s pace, as Wilson swiftly punched in the security code, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

House looked up at the open, empty doorway with dread as he slowly approached it. He only realized that he had been holding his breath when Wilson reappeared a moment later, smiling and encouraging as Cuddy “helped” House inside, then closing the door behind them.

Almost immediately, a sound from the kitchen caught House’s attention, and he froze, his heart in his throat, staring at the closed kitchen door. Wilson placed a calming hand on his arm, meeting his eyes and shaking his head slightly as he shut the door, locked it, and reactivated the security system.

Only once the apartment was secure did Wilson speak, his voice quiet and calm. “House, Jenna’s here. She’s in the kitchen.”

House frowned in confusion. “How’d she get in?” he demanded, immediately suspicious.

Wilson’s head tilted to the side in mild exasperation at House’s reaction. “I gave her a key,” he patiently informed his friend. “She can’t come here when we’re all already here, in case we’re being watched. It’s better if she shows up when we’re all elsewhere – along with, presumably, whoever happens to be watching us.”

“That’s great… if you remember to warn the assault victim suffering from PTSD!” House snapped, his momentary fear making him irritable. “And if she actually has a reason to be here – and being your booty call doesn’t count.”

“She does,” Wilson insisted in a lowered voice, his expression darkening with irritation, his face flushed with embarrassment at House’s words as he glanced self-consciously toward the kitchen, wondering if Jenna had overheard. “She called today, said she’d found some information over the weekend that she wanted to share with us.”

House glowered suspiciously in Wilson’s direction a moment longer, before his face broke into a bright, false smile that Wilson recognized as a portent of humiliation to come.

“Hi, honey!” he called out cheerfully. “We’re home.” He waited until Jenna appeared in the kitchen doorway to look toward Wilson and add with false innocence, “Oh, wait. That’s your line, isn’t it?”

Wilson glared at him as he motioned Jenna forward into the living room, sitting down on the sofa as House made his way grudgingly to the recliner across from it. Cuddy sat down between Wilson and Jenna, apparently hoping to diffuse any further chance House might be expecting to mock them.

“So, what’s the big news? What did you find? And did you manage to not sign all of our death warrants in the process of finding it?” House barked the words at Jenna, glaring at her, silently daring her to present something that was actually useful.

The problem was, as the natural high from solving his case that day had worn off, House had become increasingly certain that he was the one guilty of sealing their fates. He was sick and tired of appearing vulnerable and helpless in front of his friends, let alone this virtual stranger – and the only emotion that left in his arsenal at the moment was anger.

“No one suspected a thing,” Jenna assured him. “I stayed away from the police station. All I’ve done is research public records, so far. But I think I’ve found a couple of possible previous victims of this Tritter guy.”

She paused, but no one spoke, all eyes focused on her and waiting for further details. All three of them seemed reluctant to commit to a reaction, waiting to hear more before they decided whether this announcement was good or bad. Jenna cleared her throat, obviously feeling a bit on the spot, but then continued.

“The first is a Ray Amato, who was convicted on drug charges two years ago, but sentenced to probation. The newspaper reports were that Tritter was the arresting officer, and highly involved in the investigation. When the sentence was read, apparently Amato openly taunted Tritter, loudly and obviously enough that he served a day for contempt of court on top of his probation.”

Jenna paused, drawing in a deep breath, making eye contact with each of them before adding, “A week after the sentencing, he was involved in a hit and run accident that left him a quadriplegic.”

Cuddy drew in a startled gasp.

Wilson nodded grimly. “Sounds like Tritter,” he muttered.

House didn’t say anything, showed no visible response, just kept quietly watching and waiting for Jenna to go on.

“The other man is Peter Leiberman,” she continued. “He was charged with assaulting a police officer. Guess who?”

“Tritter,” Cuddy softly replied, though the question was clearly rhetorical.

Jenna nodded, turning her gaze toward Cuddy as she went on. “He was found not guilty, because there wasn’t enough evidence to convict. Thing is – Tritter didn’t have a mark on him. All he had to go by was his own eyewitness account, and the corroborating account of another officer – but the jury apparently didn’t find them believable, and Leiberman was acquitted. When I tried to track him down, I found out that he’s in a mental institution. Apparently he suffered some kind of breakdown a few months after the trial, and had to be committed.”

“Sounds like Tritter’s work,” Wilson repeated, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

House glared at him defensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Wilson looked up at him in surprise. “Nothing,” he insisted. “House… I just meant that…”

“What are you going to do with this oh-so-fascinating information?” House demanded of Jenna, not waiting for the rest of Wilson’s explanation.

“Well,” Jenna began, phrasing her answer cautiously, not wanting to earn House’s veto on her plans. “I was hoping to come up with a reasonable explanation for interviewing them. I’m a college student writing a paper on their particular types of cases, something along those lines. If I can sit down and talk with them, maybe I can get them to tell me what happened, and if they’ll admit to what happened, then…” Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged slightly.

“…then maybe you could get them to agree to testify in court,” Cuddy finished for her.

“Good luck,” House sullenly scoffed. “Go for it. Give it your best shot – but they won’t talk.”

House’s obviously terrible mood made none of them feel like visiting any more than was necessary, so after a few more minutes of discussion, Jenna rose awkwardly to her feet, saying that she was ready to go. House was staring morosely at the coffee table, too lost in his own troubling thoughts to notice the slight nod she gave Wilson, silently asking him to accompany her through the kitchen to the back door.

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

Wilson followed her all the way to the back door, glancing anxiously back toward the rest of the house as Jenna motioned him in closer in a secretive manner. He leaned in close, too troubled by the solemn, apprehensive expression in her eyes to notice, as he usually did, how pretty they were, or how near they were now standing to each other.

Jenna’s voice was hushed, cautious, as she explained in a voice of quiet urgency. “Earlier this afternoon, a little while after I got here – someone tried to get into the house.”

Wilson cringed, rolling his eyes skyward and running a hand down over his face before meeting her eyes in dismay. “Shit,” he muttered, then added more forcefully in quiet frustration, “No!”

“Yes,” Jenna apologetically replied. “Whoever it was, they managed to activate the security alarm.” Encouraged by Wilson’s approving nod, Jenna continued. “They ran off when the alarm went off, and I slipped out the back before the security team arrived. They did a brief sweep of the area, but I don’t think they found anything. After they got the alarm turned off and left, I let myself back in.”

“Okay…” Wilson’s tone was worried, thoughtful, as he considered the ramifications of what she had told him. “Okay… so the alarm system was effective. They left without getting in…”

“There’s more.”

He froze, taking in her warning eyes, the way she anxiously bit her lip as she prepared to tell him whatever bad news she had left to tell.

“After I came back in the house,” Jenna went on, glancing toward the kitchen door as she lowered her voice to a near-whisper, “the phone rang.”

Wilson’s heart sank at those words, and he barely breathed as he waited in silence for her to continue.

“The caller ID said it was a blocked number. It rang three times, and every time the caller hung up when the answering machine picked up.” She drew in a deep breath. “The fourth time – he left a message.”

Wilson cringed. “What did he say?”

“Unfortunately, nothing overtly threatening.” Jenna shook her head. “But it was clear to anyone who knows anything about the situation that it was a threat.”

Wilson frowned, sick with worry over what she had just revealed. Suddenly, his eyes widened with alarm. “Shit… I’ve got to check that message before House does!” he realized, turning his panicked gaze toward Jenna. “That message is the last thing he needs to hear right now!”

“I know,” Jenna calmly agreed. “That’s why I erased it.”

Wilson’s shoulders slumped with relief for a moment – before he frowned at her in frustration. “You erased it?” he echoed. “What if there was something incriminating on there?”

“I already said there wasn’t,” Jenna reminded him.

“If we gather other evidence and this goes to trial, it could be,” Wilson countered, sounding irritated. “Why would you just erase a threatening phone message from an attacker to his victim?”

“I didn’t.” Jenna smiled as she took a small, handheld tape recorder from the pocket of her jacket. “Not without recording it first.”

Wilson relaxed then with relief, granting her an appreciative smile, though his voice was still tense when he replied. “Let me hear it.”

Jenna glanced toward the kitchen door again, turning down the volume on the recorder to barely above the lowest setting. However, in the quiet stillness of the room, both of their heads leaning in close to the device, the cold, calm voice on the tape was clearly audible – and unmistakably Tritter’s.

“Hey, House. Just thought I’d call to congratulate you on the job.” Tritter paused, and Wilson could clearly detect the subtle mockery in his patient, patronizing voice as he went on. “I must say, though, I was a little surprised you got it. Came by the hospital to congratulate you earlier, but you looked a little busy, so I figured I’d catch you at home later. I hear you’ve been… fixing up the place. I’d just love to see all the new additions, renovations, whatever. You’ll have to show me when I come by later, and I’ll let you know what I think.” Another pause preceded Tritter’s soft, barely veiled promise, “We’ll talk later, House. Be expecting me soon.”

Wilson was shaking with rage by the time the message ended, his fists clenched at his sides, his furious eyes locked on the innocent device in Jenna’s hand. “That… that bastard!” he seethed through gritted teeth. “As if he hasn’t already done enough to destroy House’s life!”

He stopped, looking up toward the kitchen door.

Jenna’s eyes were downcast, her lips parted over a hesitant question. “James… I… I know he wants to keep all this private, but… I’ve got to ask.” She looked up at him then with an apologetic grimace and a little shake of her head. “This… wasn’t just police brutality… wasn’t just a… a beating… was it?”

Wilson didn’t answer, his stunned, dismayed eyes focused toward the kitchen door, and Jenna turned to follow his gaze – just in time to see House sink to his knees in the doorway.

Wilson rushed to his side, as the older man began to tremble, shaking his head, eyes wide and unfocused with shock, arms wrapped protectively around himself – heedless of his bad leg folded uncomfortably beneath him.

TBC...

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From:

starskyslady.livejournal.com

Oh my nerves!!!!

The way you've written these scenes there's an almost papable fear that you get through to your reader! Hell...I don't know how much more I can take...and it's just a story ;-)

Loved House, well, being House...for at least a bit. Faced with the unknown and fear he falls back on his "defualt" position of being nasty. But oh God...he heard the message!

Seriously...don't know how much more I can take...it's so damn good!

From:

Used, Chapter 35 :)

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