Highwire - Part 1

It was late November, 1994. The weather had turned cold, and there had been spatters of rain, but as yet, winter had not set in. Assistant District Attorney Claire Kincaid was seated at the desk in her little cubby-hole of an office in the New York County District Attorney's office, re-reading the case file of a defendant named Sal Taglioni, with whom she and EADA Jack McCoy had a meeting later that afternoon, when her telephone rang.

"Kincaid." she said into the receiver.

"Claire? Detective Logan here," said the voice on the other end.

"Oh, hi, Mike. What's up," she queried, only semi-interested.

"You know that ATM rapist me and Lennie were telling you about the other day? The one who picks up women at the ATM, takes their money, then takes them somewhere else and rapes them?" he asked.

"Sure, I remember. I saw on the news a couple of nights ago that a woman was similarly attacked, but that she was murdered. Do you think he's changing his MO, or is it a more sadistic copycat?"

"Well," drawled Mike, "I think it's the same guy. But anyway. We set up a decoy last night, and caught the bastard. We've got him in custody."

"Really?" she asked, perking up markedly.

"Yeah, but he won't talk, and he's refused a lawyer. Lennie and I interrogated him for five hours, and we got squat from the guy."

"Okay, I'll get someone from Legal Aid down there. Meanwhile, sit tight, I'm on my way."

She replaced the receiver in the cradle, closed her case file, stood up, put it in the ACTIVE bin atop her file cabinet, and began to gather her things.

From her vantage point, she could see Jack McCoy intently studying something on his desk through the window of his office. As always, he looked focused and intense. His hair was a bit out of place, his tie loosened, and his shirt sleeves rolled up. Suddenly, as if he'd felt her watching him, he looked up. To her utter dismay, the look of one caught openly staring crossed her face, and Jack, in amusement, cocked his head slightly to the side, raised his thick, dark, eyebrows, and smiled broadly.

The smile on his face, and the fact that she'd been caught staring flustered Claire incredibly. "What was it about Jack's appearance just then that caused me to stare?" she wondered to herself. She felt embarrassed and slightly confused, but decided that the best thing to do was to pretend nothing untoward had happened. "I was only looking at him, for God's sake. Absolutely nothing wrong with that."

Claire picked up her coat and attache case, strolled the few feet to Jack's office, and with as much confidence as she could muster, opened the door without knocking.

"I might be a little late for our meeting this afternoon," she told him.

"Really? And why is that? Hot lunch date?" he asked, grinning so that his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Claire could tell he was toying with her, and decided to respond in kind. Keeping a stone face, she replied, with a bravura that belied her confusion and anxiety, "Actually, I was planning on heading down to an S&M club for some kinky sex with an anonymous leather-clad stud. Why, did you want to join me?"

He looked at her for a moment, standing ramrod straight, telling him she was heading off to an S&M club, and suggesting he join her ...and burst out laughing. She, too, began to giggle, and soon they were both wiping the tears of laughter from their eyes.

When the laughter subsided, Claire remembered where she was really going and sobered, "I'm heading down to the 2-7. Mike Logan called a few minutes ago. They think they've got the ATM rapist in custody, and I'm going to check it out."

"What? Am I not keeping you busy enough, Kincaid? Do you really need to go chasing after more cases?"

"Hey, McCoy, it's my job. Besides, I wouldn't mind being the one to nail this sick bastard's ass to the wall."

"Such language, Claire! Okay, if you're late, you're late. I think I can manage the meeting without you. And I'll brief you when you get back, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks, Jack. See you later." She turned and walked out of his office. He watched her from behind as she walked down the hall. Only when she rounded the corner and he could no longer see her did he resume the study of his case file.

*****

When Claire arrived at the 27th Precinct of the NYPD, she found Detectives Lennie Briscoe and Mike Logan waiting with Lieutenant Anita Van Buren in the hallway outside an interrogation room. The sound was turned off so that the suspect, a large white man with coal black hair and eyes, in his late thirties, could confer in private with his Legal Aid attorney.

"Claire," nodded Van Buren in greeting.

"So, what've we got?" asked Claire.

"Name's Alex Gordon. Picked him up last night after he tried to abduct a female police decoy. When we came after him, he rammed her face into the wall, and tried to run," responded Briscoe. "But Mikey here ran him down. I think he missed his calling. Ya shoulda been a football player, Mike. That was a helluva tackle!"

Logan smiled widely, as did Van Buren.

"So, how's the cop? She okay?" queried Claire.

"Her nose is broken and she lost a couple of teeth, but she'll be fine," replied Van Buren.

"I pulled the guy's sheet," stated Logan. "3 priors: one for possession, one for aggravated sexual assault, and one for strong-arm robbery and sexual assault."

"What evidence do you have, other than the attack on the officer?" questioned Claire. "Can you link him to the other rapes? What about the murder?"

"Our problem is, he ain't talking yet, and he wore a ski mask at all times during each attack," said Briscoe. "None of the victims saw his face, but they all say they could identify his voice if..."

"A voice ID won't be good enough," interrupted Claire. "I need more. I want this to be a slam dunk."

"Well, forensics has done preliminary blood typing on semen samples collected from each of the victims," added Van Buren.

"And?"

"We know the same guy committed all the rapes, and the murder," stated Logan. "Now we just need to get a blood sample from this piece of cheese, but he won't submit."

"I'll see Judge Rodriguez about a warrant," said Claire. "In the meantime, book him."

*****

It was 5:30 in the evening when Claire stepped into the elevator that would carry her to her 8th floor office in the DA building. It had taken an exceedingly long time to get in to see Judge Rodriguez and obtain a warrant demanding that Alex Gordon submit to a DNA test.

"Yep," she thought to herself, glancing at her watch, "the meeting with Sal Taglioni and his attorney is definitely over."

The elevator door opened, and she walked to her office. She noticed Jack wasn't in his, though his casual clothes were still on their rack, and his briefcase on the desk: he was obviously somewhere in the building.

As she sat down, her phone buzzed (an inter-office call), and she picked it up.

"Kincaid," she stated.

It was Adam Schiff's secretary. "Ms. Kincaid? Mr. Schiff asked me to have you come into his office as soon as you returned."

"Let him know that I'll be right in."

A few minutes later, after removing her coat, and making a quick stop by the ladies' room, Claire was knocking on Adam's door.

From the other side she heard Adam's muffled "Come in!", and she did so.

She opened the door to find Adam sitting in the big leather chair next to the couch, upon which Jack McCoy was lazily sitting (not that he was ever lazy, he was just "claiming his space" as was his wont).

"Afternoon, Ms. Kincaid," greeted Adam, smiling.

"Adam," she smiled back.

"How was the club?" teased Jack.

"Excellent. Never enjoyed myself so much," she replied, a little off-guard.

"What club?" questioned Adam.

"Oh, I was telling Claire about this great club sandwich I'd gotten from a cafe around the corner the other day. She was interested, and said she'd try one today," covered Jack.

Adam's phone buzzed just then, and he picked it up, missing the conspiratorial wink Jack threw in Claire's direction, and the warm smile with which she returned the gesture.

"Yes? Yes, she's here. He is? Okay. Wait a moment," said Adam, handing Claire the phone. "Mike Logan is holding for you."

"Put him through," she told Adam's secretary. "Kincaid."

"Claire? The preliminary DNA results on Gordon are in," Detective Logan told her.

"Okay. And?"

"They're a match. The knife we took off him matches the description given by the victims, and is consistent with the type used on the girl he strangled, Suzette Walker. Fibers from his gloves are consistent with those found on Walker's neck, undergarments, and blouse. We got him."

"Great!" exclaimed Claire. "I'll arraign him in the morning . Thanks, Mike!" She hung up the phone.

"What's got you so excited?" asked Jack.

"We got the ATM rapist!" she cried. Jack nodded slowly.

Adam smiled at her enthusiasm, and asked "What do we know so far?"

"Well, 15 rape victims have come forward in the past two months," began Claire. "Nine of them have given us a positive voice-ID on Gordon. Forensics has done preliminary DNA tests on semen samples taken from each woman during the post-rape medical examination, and they match Gordon. Then there's the murdered victim, Suzette Walker. Semen samples taken from her were also amoung the preliminary tests, and they match Gordon. Fibers from the gloves Gordon was wearing when he was arrested are consistent with those found on Suzette Walker's neck, blouse, and undergarments. The knife found on Gordon matches the description given by the victims, and the wounds found on Suzette Walker, although strangulation was the actual cause of death. Finally, Detectives Briscoe and Logan will testify they saw Gordon attack the female officer. So, to sum up, we've got 16 counts of rape and armed robbery, one murder count, assaulting an officer, and to top it off, resisting arrest."

"Sounds like a slam dunk, Claire," said Jack. "So, Adam, who are we going to give this little gem Claire's tied up so nicely?"

"I see no reason why Claire can't continue to handle the case," replied Adam. "How 'bout it, Ms. Kincaid? Feel ready to lead?"

"Of course!" she replied ecstatically.

A dark cloud passed over Jack's brow, which Claire, in her excitement, failed to notice.

"Adam, I don't think Claire has the time to prosecute a case on her own right now," said Jack. "The Maslin case is a few days away from trial. We've got the Koppel trial beginning in a few weeks."

As he went on, Claire was becoming increasingly agitated. Why was he acting like this? Did he expect her to second chair him for the rest of her life? He had told her often enough over the past four months that she was as ambitious and driven as he had been back when he was second chairing for an EADA.

"This Taglioni thing is in pre-trial motions," continued Jack, "not to mention the seven or eight other cases we've been working..." Claire flashed him a furious look, and he stopped short.

"That's enough, Jack," stated Adam. "I'm pulling Claire off Taglioni and three or four of the others. She'll still be with you on Maslin, Koppel, and the rest. We've got plenty of competent ADAs in this office that can second chair you on the others. Ms. Kincaid has got to step out of the batter's box and up to the plate sometime, don't you agree?"

Jack nodded, glancing at his watch. "I need to go make a phone call." Adam waved his hand in assent, and as Jack passed Claire on the way to the door, he threw her an angered glance.

When Jack had left the room, Adam asked Claire, "So, who do you want as your second chair?"

*****

  

Half an hour later, Claire stormed across the corridor from Adam's office to Jack's. She burst through the door without knocking, nearly hitting him with it as he stood tucking his shirt into his jeans by the clothes rack.

"What the hell is your problem?" he demanded as he grabbed his jacket, briefcase, and motorcycle helmet.

"My problem? What's my problem?"

"Look, I have neither the time nor the inclination to argue with you right now," he told her. He shut the lights off, and left her standing alone in his office as he strolled down the hall toward the elevator.

She shut the door behind her as she followed him out, not willing to let the discussion end on that note. She slipped through the closing doors of the elevator as he pressed "P" for the parking level. By this time, his jacket was on, and his helmet and briefcase were resting at his feet.

"Where do you get off," she seethed, moving so close to him that their toes were almost touching, "screwing with my career like that? For your information, I do not intend to be your assistant forever, Jack McCoy! How dare you?!?"

He grabbed her by her upper arms and thrust her against the opposite wall. He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her face, and all she could see of him were his thick eyebrows and dark eyes, which bore into her.

"Because I don't want to share you," he told her simply, in a hurt and angered whisper.

Before she could reply, he pulled her to him, and pressed his lips against hers. Due to rage, her mind had been whirling at about 1000 miles an hour, but the force of his kiss, and the smell of him, accelerated that speed so exponentially that she could no longer focus on any one rational thought. Thrill after thrill slammed through Claire, and in spite of her anger, and the little introductory this-is-just-a- working-relationship speech she had given him four months ago, she found herself returning his kiss fervently. She wrapped her arms about his neck, and he pulled her closer, so that she could barely breathe, as if he were trying to pull her inside him. The kiss deepened in intensity and ardour, and they didn't notice the elevator slowing at the 3rd floor until it had actually stopped. Reluctantly, he pushed himself away from her, as the door opened, letting in two suited men in mid-conversation.

Jack and Claire stood next to each other behind the two talking men, an electrically charged silence hanging between them. Claire's heart was beating so fast she was having a hard time catching her breath.

By the time the two men got out on the 1st floor, she had calmed down enough that rational thought was once again possible. They turned to face each other, and Claire half hoped, half expected him to take her in his arms again, but he just looked at her as though he expected her to say something. She remained silent and didn't move an inch, just stared at him rather dumbly, waiting.

The elevator door dinged, opening up to the parking lot. Jack, in disappointment (she guessed), picked up his briefcase and helmet, and exited the elevator. Claire began to follow after him, and stopped just outside the elevator door, and it closed behind her.

She was suddenly angry again. Angry at him for making her feel as she had felt and react as she'd reacted, when she had been angry with him to begin with. Angry that he would say what he'd said in the tone that he'd said it, and kiss her like that, then abruptly leave without another word, expecting her to run after him, which she was not about to do. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of chasing after him like a love-sick teenager in front of a parking garage full of people. The elevator door opened behind her, and she stepped back in, pressing the 8th floor button.

Most of all, she was angry at herself for breaking the promise she had made to herself after the Joel Thayer fiasco: after the affair with the judge she clerked for had soured, she had sworn to herself that she would never again become involved with one of her co-workers. She was angry at herself for responding to Jack's kiss like she had.

But then it hit her, like a blow to the chest. Something she had been denying, even to herself, for the past several months.

She had fallen for Jack McCoy.