Jamie Brodie 01 - Cited to Death

workin’."
    "Sure it is." Pete handed me the milkshake I'd abandoned on the ottoman. "You've uncovered the truth. Justice is going to take a little longer this time, that's all. But we'll get it. We'll get them, whoever them is."
    I looked back at him. "You dink?"
    "Yep. Because now we know what they're trying to hide." Pete smiled at me again. "But we're not going to do it today, right?"
    I shook my head. "Need do do somedhin' else today."
    Pete frowned. "You are not going anywhere or doing anything. You're going to sit here and drink milkshakes and take naps. End of discussion."
    "Nod somedhin' like dad." I looked at him, at this guy that I needed. He wanted me at his back; I needed him at mine. "'Boud us."
    Pete looked wary. "Us? As in...us?"
    "Mmm hmm." I took his hand. "Been ‘dupid. Dryin' to be ‘lone. Not leddin' anyone close. Afraid of you."
    That surprised him. "Afraid of me? Why the hell would you be afraid of me?"
    I swallowed. "Only one able to hurd me."
    His surprised expression melted into sadness. "Oh, honey. I would never do that. I would never..." He sniffed a little himself. "When we were together before, it was the best time of my life. But you weren't in the same place then, and then Luke reappeared...and it seemed like you were pulling away from me, and I felt like I owed it to Luke to give that relationship another try. But when that didn't work, I didn't want anyone else - just you. I guess I've been waiting for you to come to your senses..." He laughed a little. "I wish it hadn't taken a major disaster for that to happen, but I'll take what I can get."
    I shook my head. "Didn' want to get hurd. Didn' wanna need anyone. First time wid you I was fallin' for you doo and god afraid. W'en Luke came back id solved da’ for me. Daded a lot of od'er people to nod dink ‘boud you." I looked at his hand, holding mine. It looked right.
    I leaned back on the pillows. “Sorry for bein’ so s’ubborn. Wasdin’ so mush dime.”
    Pete stroked the palm of my hand with his thumb. It was weirdly soothing. “No apology necessary. As soon as you can move again, we’re gonna make up for lost time.”
    I laughed, and it hurt. “Ow.”
    That made him laugh. He let go of my hand and got up. “Time for more drugs for you.” He checked my glass. “And a fresh milkshake.” He went to the kitchen.
    In spite of my injuries, I felt lucky. I’d been given a second chance. Now I just had to make sure I didn’t mess it up.
    At some point in the early afternoon, Pete got a call and spent several minutes on the phone, mostly saying "Yeah" and "Okay" and "Huh." When he hung up, he told me, "We've got a summit meeting tomorrow morning at West LA Division. Tim, Kevin, your UCLA computer crimes guy, a couple of Wilshire detectives, and the LAPD liaison to HALT. They haven't gotten anything else out of the guy who broke in here, and they believe that he doesn't know anything else. Still no idea who his accomplice was. The UCLA cop - what's his name?"
    "Roger Blake."
    "Right, Blake. He and the head of your IT department were able to figure out who was sabotaging your computer."
    That made me sit up and take notice. "Whoa. Who was id?"
    "The guy who was supposedly fixing the computer. Andy Mitchell."
    My jaw dropped, even though it hurt. "You're shidding me."
    "Nope. He's said he was paid to do it, but he’s lawyered up and won't say anything about who paid him or why."
    "D'ad's jus' bizarre." I couldn't believe it. "I can' believe id."
    "I know. I'm not sure how they figured it out, I guess they'll say tomorrow. Tim did say that Andy installed a keystroke logger on your computer the first time he was in your office supposedly fixing it. From that, they were able to tell what your friend Diane was doing on your computer."
    "Wha’?"
    "Snooping in your email. The West Hollywood sheriff’s deputies picked her up early this morning. UCLA is going to charge her with unauthorized access to the university network, or something like that."
    "Oh my God. She'll lose her zhob."
    "Maybe. She should have thought of that before she got stupid."
    "Yeah." I was having trouble dredging up much sympathy for Diane. "She owes me a 'pology."
    "Big time."
    Talking about email made me think of checking mine. I got Pete to set up my laptop for me and logged on. There was only one thing of interest. An email from Ben Goldstein.
    Dr. Brodie,
    I have come across a note that Dan left for me in which he suggests that you might be able to help