Strange Bedfellows


His cell phone trilled a saucy Latin beat, waking Alejandro Garcia from a deep slumber.  It was the first day in nearly four years that he had slept past six a.m.


“Detective Garcia?”  The caller was hesitant and wary.  “You gave me this number to call… I work at the courthouse building.”

Alex sat bolt upright.  He was suddenly wide-awake.  “Yes, I remember you,” the detective said.  “Do you have something for me?”

The young clerk hesitated.  “I am not sure,” he hedged.  “I was visiting another clerk in the records department yesterday.  She was filing some papers and I think I saw Miss Jensen’s name on one of them.  I couldn’t really take the time to look too closely.”

“Did you see anything else?  What kind of document was it?”

“I didn’t get a good look.  But…”

Alex stifled his impatience with the young man.  “But, what?  Did you see something else that might help me locate Miss Jensen?”

“Maybe,” he finally replied.  “I saw the name Cassadine.”

Alex was speechless with confusion.  Of all the things the clerk could have said, the name ‘Cassadine’ never entered the detective’s thoughts.  “Cassadine?” Alex mused.  “Which one?  Nikolas?  Stefan?” 

A horrifying possibility occurred to him.  Helena?”  He had heard more horror stories from his partner Marcus Taggert about Helena Cassadine than he cared to recall.  And with Dara missing…

Alex put a halt to his runaway thoughts.  There was no reason to jump to conclusions merely because the clerk had seen the name Cassadine on an official document with Dara’s name on it as well.  But why would such a document even exist?  Dara’s contact with the strange imports to Port Charles was limited to court battles against Alexis Davis.

“That’s all I saw,” the clerk apologized.  “Will it help?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted truthfully.  “But it is a start.”  He climbed from the bed.  “And if it leads me to Miss Jensen, I promise that I will remember the part you played.”

Alex bounded into the bathroom and started the shower going.  He wasn’t much of a breakfast person normally, so a glass of orange juice before he showered would suit him just fine.

Automatically the detective glanced toward the window before entering the kitchen.  Alex was careful to keep the kitchen blinds closed after receiving a Christmas card from his sixty-year-old neighbor.  In it she thanked Alex for the lovely view of his naked body that she had enjoyed every morning that past year.

Just thinking about it brought another blush to his dusky skin.  Dara, on the other hand, found it all very amusing.  “I can’t blame her,” she laughed and ran a teasing hand along his thigh.  “I enjoy looking at you myself.”

They’d made love with abandon there on Garcia’s kitchen floor.  The room echoed with the sounds of their mutual pleasure.

There was no way Alex would believe that what he had shared with Dara that night and others was merely sex.  She may have never said the words, but for Alex it was clear.  All he needed to do was find Dara and confront her face to face.  No matter what her mouth might say, Alex knew that her eyes would tell the truth.

He was counting on that.