6/24/2004

Fifteenth Avenue, Uptown

From south to north, the buildings shift from small, two- or three-story offices with delicatessens, ice cream shops selling homemade ice cream, and similar types of small specialty shops on the first floor to, first, a few old-fashioned inns, and then a small park on the western side of 15th, south of Market Street. Less than fifty yards to a side, there is a curving path in it, and a few park benches, and a small grassy place used, to guess by the poles, for volleyball or badminton. North of that, between Market and Osprey, are old houses, mansions almost, with metal gates and walls to set them back from the street. Along the street itself, tall trees tower, cutting off much of the light that should reach the ground, excepting a small strip in the center of the roadway itself from which the sky can be seen. Farther north, where 15th joins Osprey itself, there are a few condominium buildings, with carefully sculpted bushes around them.

Emily is average-sized for a woman, neither tall nor short at an even five-five. Her frame is on the thin side, her build the sort expected on someone who lives on caffeine and adrenaline. Her hair is caught back in a simple pony-tail set high on her head, the long dark blonde length expertly streaked with pale highlights. Her face is oval in shape, the sort considered pretty by many, with dark brown eyes set below finely arched brows. Her nose is straight and proportional, placed just right above a mouth that seems to be on the verge of smiling most of the time while her chin is a touch strong. She gives off a delicate air, something about the fine bones of her face and the slender figure making her seem to be in her early twenties.

Emily is wearing a pale green linen top, sleeveless and just long enough to skim her waist. The neckline dips into a deep vee, the empire seam lined with tiny gathers, which also appear at top of each shoulder. A pair of plainfront khaki capri start just below the waist, cut in a flattering manner. The hem touchs her leg at mid-calf. She wears a pair of brown leather sandals, cut so that her pink-polished toenails are visible.

Exiting out of the large and imposing gate at the Dominion mansion complex, Emily darts a glance about the street, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she starts to practically trot down the street. There's something about the woman that screams she is spooked. Perhaps its her slightly wild eyes or her paler than should be complexion or a subtle tension about her. Either way, she has recently been scared and she almost seems to be running from the mansion.

Dirk's wearing his usual outfit, but it seems even more pressed and squared away than normal. It's as if he's trying to look as "official" as possible. He stands up from his position on a bench across the street, and folds away the paper he was pretending to read. His expression is concerned as he takes in Emily's behavior, and he darts a quick glance towards the distant bulk of the mansion, before returning his attention the rapidly receding woman. Dirk splits his attention between the two for a moment, before finally deciding to head quickly after Emily. When he's still far enough away to be non-threatening, but not so far the whole street would hear, he says, "Excuse me, Miss."

Emily wheels about when addressed, momentary alarm on her face. It does not ease when she spies the man following her; instead it shifts to a more neutral expression with rather tense body language. She clutches the strap of her purse with one white-knuckled hand as she watches him. "Yes?"

Dirk stops, his perpetual frown seeming almost embarressed. His eyes flicker briefly with...uncertainty? Then the "Mr. Official" demeanor is firmly back in place. "My name is Dirk Dawson, Miss." He answers, giving a small nod. "I'm a Private Investigator, and I think we really need to talk." He pauses awkwardly, then ventures: "Perhaps sitting down somewhere?" The PI's hands come up in a placating gesture. "Uh...somewhere public?" he hastily adds.

There is a flicker of recognition in the woman's eyes at his name, some hint that she recognizes it. Her expression is open and easily readable, the type that belongs to a person that has never really had reason to hide her emotions. "Why?" Her voice is less sharp this time but instead is more wary as she shifts her feet slightly.

Dirk's on more familiar territory here. His demeanor doesn't shift in the slightest as he assesses her response to his questions. He only replies (with a hint of exasperation), "Do I really have to answer that?" He turns and glances briefly towards the Mansion before looking back. "I'm still better than the cops, am I right?"

There is a moment of confusion as she stares at him, a moment where the tension drains from her. "Cops?" Emily's eyes flicker up toward the mansion, understanding flooding into her expression. "Oh, God, no. I'm fine." Not that she looks it; her eyes are still wild and she remains pale. "I just needed to go for a walk."

Dirk sighs. A lot of exhaustion can be heard in the sound, like air escaping from a tire that didn't get punctured, but rather just wore away. "That's not what I'm talking about." His shoulders slump and he drops the act. "Look, lady, I'm just doing my job, all right? It's a good job, but I won't kid myself, it doesn't pay well." He gives her a weary look, "And it doesn't pay by the hour." Dirk turns and walks a few steps towards the mansion, before turning back. He shoves his hands deep and his pockets and regards her glumly. "Now we /can/ continue the back-and-forth until our tongues knot up, /or/ you can just admit you already know who I am and we can go to some place that's air conditioned to try and work this out." He stands, staring at her.

"I was on my way to get coffee." Emily's voice edges on exhaustion as well, the sort that comes from emotion. "You cam come with me, though I suspect that you will end up more disappointed than gratified in the end." Thus, a tacit admission that she does indeed know his name. She jerks her head down the street before starting to walk in the direction of a ubiquitous Starbucks.

Dirk follows, but still at a respectful distance. "I didn't get this face from an overabundance of good news." he mutters.

Emily glances over her shoulder as she walks, a wry smile touching her lips. "I suspect you didn't." For a moment, she seems a bit older than her youthful features would hint. "Its not like Magnum PI then, hmm?"

"Nope." Dirk smiles then, and his entire face seems to shift into a friendly alignment. "It's like a Dashiell Hammett book. So it's better." His expression collapses back into tense gloom a moment later -- as if he couldn't keep it up. "But it's been a rough week."

Emily slows just enough that she can walk alongside the man, still a little more than an armslength away but beside him nonetheless. "Why's that?" She has a sympathetic expression, the sort that hints that she is used to listening.

Dirk doesn't reply immeadiatly, and looks to see how far away the Starbucks is. "How's Ms. Baker doing?" he asks suddenly.

Emily shrugs, the friendliness leaving her face as she returns her attention to the sidewalk ahead of her. "Don't know. Haven't talked to her recently."

Dirk nods. "I suspect she is rather busy." He replies. For several seconds, the only sound to be heard is the scuffing of soles on sidewalks, then: "Is she in charge of your...organization?"

Emily frowns slightly at that. "Organization? She's my cousin." Not that the thin and blonde woman looks anything like Natalie.

Dirk turns to look at her, his eyebrows raised. "Really? Ms. Baker doesn't look anything like you." He turns back towards their destination. "And I suppose she probably hasn't told you everything." The PI glances at her sidelong. "For your own safety."

"Do you look like every one of your cousins, Mr. Dawson? If so, that's quite a genetic feat." Emily allows herself to smile faintly as she says that. "As for telling me everything? I don't know what you mean. And I know exactly what my status is when it comes to safety."

"I meant no offense, Ma'am, I was just making an observation." Dirk glances at her curiously. "It's odd that you would take that to mean I was insinuating you were lying. There's no need to be so...defensive." He stops. "Is there?"

Emily actually looks a bit frustrated, stopping where she is walking and half-turning to look at him. "Well, Mr. Dawson, I have never been approached by a PI in the middle of a street before. Considering I used to work in a rather large city, you should be glad I didn't hit you with my purse then run away screaming rape. Now. What do you want to know?"

Dirk just keeps staring at her, unfazed. "You didn't hit me with your purse because I didn't approach close enough for you to. You came close to me." His frown deepens slightly. "I'm a professional, Ma'am. If you wish me to leave, just say so." The PI once again removes his hands from his pockets and carefully takes a few steps back. Emily's remarks seem to have almost (upset? offended?) bothered him. "Now, if you do want me to leave, I /will/ have to involve the police." He stares at her gravely, but with no malice. "That isn't a threat, or an ultimatum, that is simply a professional acting professionally -- any ethical PI would do the same." Dirk continues giving her a steady poker-face. "It's your decision."

"You didn't answer my question." Emily calms a bit after that long speech by the man but she still seems suspicious. "What are you going to ask about? Hmm? I'm going to get coffee regardless but you are not welcome unless you can give me more of an idea."

Dirk shrugs. "How about I start with your name? You do know that, right?" He quickly shakes his head, closes his eyes, and pinches the bridge of his nose with a pained expression. "I...I'm sorry. I get sarcastic when I'm tired." He opens his eyes and regards her with a hint of a smile. "Could you please tell me your name?"

"I usually just get bitchy," Emily answers with a hint of a smile. "Emily Miller." There's a faint hint of some sort of eastern southern accent, just barely but it touches her words.

Dirk nods. "Pretty name." he glances towards the coffee shop. "How about we continue this in there? With coffee." He looks up towards the sun, squinting. "The subjects are as follows: Natalie Baker. That Mansion. A green truck." The PI pauses, though whether it's for effect or genuine hesitation is unclear. "A girl." He looks back down and stares at Emily. "Is that enough?"

Emily doesn't answer at first, merely heading into the coffee shop instead. It isn't clear how cooperative she's going to be, though she did smile faintly at the compliment. It is when she is seated with a Starbucks in hand that she begins to really study her companion. "What do you want to know?"

Dirk stirs his coffee -- black -- then sits back and removes his hat, placing it on the seat beside him. He wipes at his forehead and seems to bask in the cool interior for several seconds, staring at Emily in a distracted fashion. "Is it her truck?" He answers at last.

"What do the tags say?" Emily asks as she sips on her mocha, nibbling at bit at the froth of whipped cream on the surface. Now that she has coffee, she seems far calmer.

Dirk shuffles out of his jacket, folds it, and puts it beside the hat. He takes a long draught of the java, then nods as if he was expecting Emily to say that. "Good answer. Vague. You're better than I thought. I guess you were just...flustered when I first encountered you." Another sip. "It's hers. That's how I found Rockefellar's summer cottage up the street." He opens his jacket and pulls out a shoddy-looking pack of cigarettes.

Emily takes another sip of her coffee before gesturing toward the cigarettes. "Can I have one? I usually only smoke when drinking but for some reason, that's an appealing thought to me right now." Her eyes flick up toward his face, thoughtfully examining his features. "Its just a family place." She grins at her words and shrugs. "I'm a poor relation but its interesting to visit them for a little while."

"I bet." Dirk actually grins at that, then opens the pack and extracts a pathetic-looking cigarette. He expertly places it in the corner of his mouth and then offers the box. "I should warn you," he says around the cig, "that I don't smoke." He bites down and there's a quiet CRUNCH. With his free hand, Dirk grabs the rest of the chalky candy, and eats it. "I picked this habit up in my youth." He turns the box sideways to show her the front: CANDI-SMOKES is announces in garish green.

Emily starts to laugh at that, her face completely relaxing as she does. "You are a tease then. Its not fair of you, taunting a partial-addict with an empty box." She still takes one, toying it back and forth between slim and manicured fingers. "You always so cute about things?"

Dirk puts the box away. "Some things." he replies, almost wistfully. He hunches forward then, and takes a deep gulp of coffee. "Other things...I'm very serious about." Dirk regards Emily with that mournful face, his eyes showing nothing but sympathy. "You seem nice, Emily." He drinks again, maybe so he doesn't have to look directly at her, and then continues to stare into his cup on the table. "I don't know how much you're aware of," he says at last, "or how much you're holding back, but I'd stake my career on that observation. I think you're a good person." There's a pause, and he seems to be considering what to say next.

Its a remarkably astute observation, actually. Emily takes a long swallow of scalding hot coffee, her eyes remaining on him. "I am what I seem, nothing more. As for the rest?" She shrugs slightly, still moving the candy cigarette; it appears she is the sort who smokes to have something to do with her hands.

Dirk picks his words carefully. "What your...cousin does..." His frown deepens and he clasps his hands around the cup. "The authorities would probably term it 'kidnapping.'"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Emily says that and there's an earnest look about her face, a certain genuine look in her eyes. "Natalie? I can't imagine her kidnapping a person."

Dirk lets out a long low breath that's almost a sigh. "That's what I was afraid of." He looks at her intently. "What about the people she hangs out with? Do any unusual...'friends' stay in the mansion?" He finishes off his coffee and sets the empty cup aside. "How about any rooms you're not allowed to go into? /Anything/ out of the ordinary would be helpful." The PI pauses, before adding in a quiet voice: "How well do you really know her?"

Emily glances out the window before answering, the movements of the toy cigarette slowing. "I know her as well as you can know some members of your family." That's rather vague and she gives him a bland look when she finally returns her eyes to his. There's something gentle and fragile about her. "And there are others at the mansion but I don't know if I'd call them too strange." But he'd be able to see people coming in and out of the mansion himself.

Dirk nods in acknowledgment, and glances at her. He quickly looks away. Her seeming innocent earnestness --whether an act or not -- has obviously gotten to him. When he speaks, it's to the window. "I believe that Natalie was at a crimescene on the ninth. She was driving her green Tacoma, and she...abducted a girl that was present." He finally manages to stare at her. "I'm not /absolutely/ positive, Ms Mill--" He falters, then leans forward, staring at her intently. "Emily, I'm not positive, but I'm nearly there." Now it's Dirk's turn to look earnest. "If you're involved, you need to tell me now. Up to this point, we still have options. If you're not..." He lets the sentence hang.

Emily looks frightened. Its likely not for the reasons that Dirk thinks but it serves a handy purpose as she rises out of her seat. "I..." Her voice is shaking slightly as she speaks. "That can't be possible." Swallowing, she turns to leave the shop, her shoulders hunching slightly. She HAS managed to keep hold of her coffee cup.

Dirk gets up as well, instinctively grabbing his coat and hat. He follows after her. "She's a redhead, Emily. Probably no more than 18 or 19. She looked /drugged/." His voice is insistent, with a note of pleading. "She looked hurt."

Emily shakes her head slightly as she exits the coffehouse, turning right back toward the mansion she left only a few minutes before. She was frightened then but she's downright terrified now. "I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Dawson." Her voice shakes as she says that, betraying her words. She stops dead and looks at him suddenly, her dark eyes worried. "You seem very nice, Dirk." Her lips quirk at the corners as she turns to continue on.

Dirk exits out after her and stands there, watching as she turns away. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it. "Goddamn it," he mutters. He takes a hesitant step after her...

Emily is walking away from Dirk--and Starbucks--at a rather quick pace. Her face, once she turns from Dirk, looks downright terrified. When he speaks, her shoulders hunch slightly, though she's too far away to hear the words.

In life as in comedy, timing is everything. As Emily and Dirk come within view of the Dominion again, the big gates slide open and Emily's little blue Honda sedan drives out and onto the street. Natalie's at the wheel, and next to her, buckled in and looking wide-eyed out the open window, is Chaney. Apart from the clothes, she looks almost exactly as she did when Dirk saw her in the house of death and blood.

"Goddamit!" Dirk's harsh exclamation is more of a gutteral grunt then anything, and still too low to hear. He trots after her, holding off about five feet, talking to her back. "Emily, here's what I think..." He slows to a walk. "I think you know what's going on, and I also think you're a good person. Which leads me to believe..." He stops, staring as the gate opens. Then he sees the car. Dirk glances towards Emily, and takes a hesitant step off the curb, towards the vehicle. He squints, and suddenly recognizes Natalie -- but more importantly, he recognizes Chaney. "Now..." he mutters breathlessly. "I watch that gate all week...and /now/ this happens." He breaks into a trot. "Fuck!" That was loud enough for the street to hear.

The street, perhaps, but the car's windows are rolled up. Nat looks like she's talking cheerfully to the girl and paying scant attention to her surroundings as she heads south on 15th avenue.

The problem is Emily -is- a nice person. Her face, already pale, goes a sickly gray when she spies her own car turning out of the mansion gate. Swallowing hard, she darts toward Dirk and tugs on his arm. Hard. "You need to stay the hell out of things. Please." There's fear in her voice. Dirk, however, likely has no clue the fear is for his life, not her own safety.

Dirk takes another step forward, the tugging on his arm a distraction more than anything. This is it. The culmination of a two week search. For a PI it's like discovering the Holy Grail. "I found her." He whips around and looks into Emily's scared face. "Where are they taking her?!" He demands in a harsh tone. His free arm begins digging around in his other pocket.

Chaney actually spots the pair and her nose mashes against the (closed, really) window as she watches Sun-Hair and the familiar-looking man go by.

Natalie drives off into traffic, completely oblivious. They're gone within four blocks.

"I don't know." Emily's eyes follow the car as it disappears into traffic and she swallows hard. "I have no idea. Its...its something that you need to keep out of." Her eyes meet his, full of fear. "Please. You have to believe me on this." Never mind that she looks like a victim herself with all that scared behavior.

Dirk's face immediatly softens, almost involuntarily. He manages to restore a semblance of anger and turns away. "Always a sucker..." he mutters angrily, but apparently to himself. He watches the car disappear into traffic. Seconds pass. Slowly, he turns to look at Emily. His other hand leaves his pocket, coming up with...a cellphone. "Give me a reason, Emily. Just give me a real reason not to make the call." He stars at her, the usual frown of his mouth now set into a hard line. "God knows I should have called much sooner than this...but..." He stops, unable to finish. He stares at her hard. "One good reason, Emily. Make it damn convincing." Dirk stares at Emily with his most intense gaze, only the confusion in his eyes taking the edge off of it.

Emily's large dark eyes look up at him, liquid and filled with terror. "Because I'm afraid of what would happen to others if you told." Her voice is shaking and whispered and she reaches up to slide her hands over his, including the one holding the cell phone. It would seem that she's scared for herself. And she might be, a little bit, given the size of the moon. "I'm afraid."

Dirk blinks as Emily touches him, the harsh expression sliding off his face to reveal the startled person beneath. "Afraid?" He murmers, mouth slightly open. He takes a step back suddenly, as if fearing the effects of her touch. The PI looks distracted, and just stands there, holding the phone. Finally, after what seems to be an eternity, Dirk visibly pulls himself together and focuses, hints of anger -- at himself, most likely -- beginning to emerge. He says nothing, and just stares at her. Scrutinizing her intently. Trying to decide...

If it is one thing that Emily has no problem showing, its fear. After all, its just her and a house full of Garou during a waxing moon. The woman is afraid right now. Thus, she channels that into her eyes as she stares up at him. "Afraid," she whispers, almost gently. The longer this goes on, the more afraid she is for both of them. Her hands, having held on to his, squeeze tightly, almost enough to hurt.

Dirk stares for several more seconds. Suddenly he smiles, but it's more of a rictus, showing tightly clenched teeth. "Always a sucker, Dirk..." This time he wrenches his hands away and turns away from her. He slowly puts the phone away with a deliberate motion. "All right, Lady, you win." He doesn't turn around.

He doesn't see the look of extreme relief on her face or the fact that Emily briefly closes her eyes. Gathering herself together, she swallows and touches his back slightly. "Please believe me. That was for the best."

Dirk's back heaves in a harsh laugh. "I'll take your word for it." He turns back around and regards her with a weary expression. "So now I'm involved too. Great." Strangely, he doesn't seem that upset about it. His eyes seem to suggest he's almost enjoying the moment. "I always knew this would have to happen at least once." A pause. "I suppose you shouldn't be seen talking to me."

Emily shouldn't no. And that flashes across her expression. "You aren't involved. In fact, it would be better if you stayed way the hell away after this point." And again, the problem is that Emily is inherently a nice and good person. She can't look at him when she speaks next. "Just turn away and don't think about it anymore." Like that will be possible. And she isn't help anything by looking up at him with those melancoly dark eyes of hers. Either way, she turns to head back toward the mansion.

Dirk just watches Emily go without saying a thing. His eyes follow her all the way to the gate, and then watch her disappear behind the walls of the complex. The PI continues to watch a few moments more, then smirks. "Like hell." he mutters. Dirk turns around on one heel and heads in the opposite direction.

Of course, the moment she's actually in the gates, Emily is running--flat out running. She is also pulling a cell phone out of her pocket too. Mymy.