The Cost
Chapter 5
Jack walked in and quietly closed the door behind him. Carefully placing his jacket on the coat tree that stood to his right, he then slowly walked into the livingroom. The sparsely furnished area, its huge, oversized sofa placed to take advantage of her 14th floor view, looked warm and inviting. Candles lit in groups here and there cast a comforting glow.
But she wasn't there. She-
"Jack."
He turned, relieved. "Sorry I took so long."
She smiled. "It gave the floor time to dry. And me time to shower."
He nodded, feeling oddly out of place in a room he'd once felt at home in. In a room he'd once made love in.
Samantha walked over and touched his arm and the feeling disappeared. Tension he'd been only periferally aware of slowly drained away.
"Sit down. I'll put on a coffee or get us a drink - what do you want?"
"A drink," he said, moving toward the sofa.
She nodded. When he sat down on her massive sofa, she moved to stand behind him. Massaging his shoulders gently, she asked, "Beer, wine, or something hard?"
"Make it hard," he said. The harsh rasp of it sliding down his throat would be a suitable counterpoint to the turmoil in his stomach.
She turned and went into the kitchen. He felt cold and alone without her hands touching him. Rising, he followed her.
"So, you were cleaning?" he asked from the doorway.
She nodded, knowing what he was really asking. In respect for all they had shared, she answered truthfully, "I saw those boys, too. I know what it's doing to you. It's bad, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
Knowing he couldn't talk about it yet, she directed him to get out the ice. Together, they mixed their drinks and returned to the livingroom.
End Chapter 5
The Cost Chapter 6
"It's my fault. My playing God with the rule book set him loose. We could have had him, and I-"
"We don't really know it's him, Jack," Samantha interjected, watching as he moved to stand by the window. "Not for sure, anyways. And that boy would have died if you hadn't done what you did and you know it. Your actions saved Andy Deaver's life."
"And just cost the lives of two others. I know it's Graham Spaulding, and so do you. Carving that number in those boy's chests was a taunt. It couldn't be from anyone else."
She shut her eyes for a moment against the image of the two bodies, the number fifteen cut crudely into the first one; the same number, but with a huge plus sign cut savagely into the second.
Opening her eyes again, she saw that he was still standing in front of her large living room window, gazing out over the street sightlessly. She considered for a moment the danger of his being seen there and pushed it aside.
"You can't hold yourself accountable for everything, Jack. You can't say you should have let Andy Deaver die, anymore than you can say it's your fault Graham Spaulding killed those two boys - if he killed those boys. There is evil out there. You did your best. Sometimes, no matter what we do, we can't win. This was one of those times. We can only do the best we can do. You did what was right for that situation at that particular time; you couldn't have done anything else."
Jack continued to stare out into the darkness. They had been talking about this for more than an hour, with him mulling things over aloud, allowing all the anguish and self-recrimination he had kept pent up for far too long to spill out. Samantha had sat quietly, listening and questioning only occasionally. When she had spoken, however, he had listened, and when listening, he had felt himself being slowly drawn in by her words. Now, through slowly encroaching exhaustion, he found himself believing her...or wanting to believe so hard he thought he believed...
Walking to one side of the window, he reached up for the curtain pull and closed the curtains against the night. "He's insane," he said gruffly, his tone telling her he was almost done with the subject for a while.
Samantha nodded, relieved. "Yes, and you didn't make him that way."
"We've got to find and stop him."
Samantha frowned, and followed him with her eyes as he came to sit down heavily beside her. When he leaned his head against the back of the sofa tiredly, she said. "That's not our jurisdiction, Jack."
"Who better to find someone missing?" he asked, his eyes closed.
She paused, wondering how serious he was, wondering if this was simply the ramblings of a man who had slept one night's worth of sleep in the last four. Reaching over, she gently brushed her fingers against the side of his brow and then down the side of his face. It was the first time she had touched him so intimately since she had touched his face after he'd carried her out of that bookstore...
Emotion welled up inside her, spilling out from her eyes as salty tears.
Sensing a change in her through a haze of descending sleep, he opened his eyes. "Oh, Sam," he said, gathering her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. "Don't cry." Resting his cheek on the top of her head as he had on a sun-drenched bench so long ago, he held her. Nothing, he thought was over. Not even this.
Thank God.
With her slight, reassuring presence pressed against him, he again closed his eyes. Hugging her, he murmured, "I just need to sit for a minute..."
End Chapter 6
Jack walked in and quietly closed the door behind him. Carefully placing his jacket on the coat tree that stood to his right, he then slowly walked into the livingroom. The sparsely furnished area, its huge, oversized sofa placed to take advantage of her 14th floor view, looked warm and inviting. Candles lit in groups here and there cast a comforting glow.
But she wasn't there. She-
"Jack."
He turned, relieved. "Sorry I took so long."
She smiled. "It gave the floor time to dry. And me time to shower."
He nodded, feeling oddly out of place in a room he'd once felt at home in. In a room he'd once made love in.
Samantha walked over and touched his arm and the feeling disappeared. Tension he'd been only periferally aware of slowly drained away.
"Sit down. I'll put on a coffee or get us a drink - what do you want?"
"A drink," he said, moving toward the sofa.
She nodded. When he sat down on her massive sofa, she moved to stand behind him. Massaging his shoulders gently, she asked, "Beer, wine, or something hard?"
"Make it hard," he said. The harsh rasp of it sliding down his throat would be a suitable counterpoint to the turmoil in his stomach.
She turned and went into the kitchen. He felt cold and alone without her hands touching him. Rising, he followed her.
"So, you were cleaning?" he asked from the doorway.
She nodded, knowing what he was really asking. In respect for all they had shared, she answered truthfully, "I saw those boys, too. I know what it's doing to you. It's bad, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
Knowing he couldn't talk about it yet, she directed him to get out the ice. Together, they mixed their drinks and returned to the livingroom.
End Chapter 5
The Cost Chapter 6
"It's my fault. My playing God with the rule book set him loose. We could have had him, and I-"
"We don't really know it's him, Jack," Samantha interjected, watching as he moved to stand by the window. "Not for sure, anyways. And that boy would have died if you hadn't done what you did and you know it. Your actions saved Andy Deaver's life."
"And just cost the lives of two others. I know it's Graham Spaulding, and so do you. Carving that number in those boy's chests was a taunt. It couldn't be from anyone else."
She shut her eyes for a moment against the image of the two bodies, the number fifteen cut crudely into the first one; the same number, but with a huge plus sign cut savagely into the second.
Opening her eyes again, she saw that he was still standing in front of her large living room window, gazing out over the street sightlessly. She considered for a moment the danger of his being seen there and pushed it aside.
"You can't hold yourself accountable for everything, Jack. You can't say you should have let Andy Deaver die, anymore than you can say it's your fault Graham Spaulding killed those two boys - if he killed those boys. There is evil out there. You did your best. Sometimes, no matter what we do, we can't win. This was one of those times. We can only do the best we can do. You did what was right for that situation at that particular time; you couldn't have done anything else."
Jack continued to stare out into the darkness. They had been talking about this for more than an hour, with him mulling things over aloud, allowing all the anguish and self-recrimination he had kept pent up for far too long to spill out. Samantha had sat quietly, listening and questioning only occasionally. When she had spoken, however, he had listened, and when listening, he had felt himself being slowly drawn in by her words. Now, through slowly encroaching exhaustion, he found himself believing her...or wanting to believe so hard he thought he believed...
Walking to one side of the window, he reached up for the curtain pull and closed the curtains against the night. "He's insane," he said gruffly, his tone telling her he was almost done with the subject for a while.
Samantha nodded, relieved. "Yes, and you didn't make him that way."
"We've got to find and stop him."
Samantha frowned, and followed him with her eyes as he came to sit down heavily beside her. When he leaned his head against the back of the sofa tiredly, she said. "That's not our jurisdiction, Jack."
"Who better to find someone missing?" he asked, his eyes closed.
She paused, wondering how serious he was, wondering if this was simply the ramblings of a man who had slept one night's worth of sleep in the last four. Reaching over, she gently brushed her fingers against the side of his brow and then down the side of his face. It was the first time she had touched him so intimately since she had touched his face after he'd carried her out of that bookstore...
Emotion welled up inside her, spilling out from her eyes as salty tears.
Sensing a change in her through a haze of descending sleep, he opened his eyes. "Oh, Sam," he said, gathering her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. "Don't cry." Resting his cheek on the top of her head as he had on a sun-drenched bench so long ago, he held her. Nothing, he thought was over. Not even this.
Thank God.
With her slight, reassuring presence pressed against him, he again closed his eyes. Hugging her, he murmured, "I just need to sit for a minute..."
End Chapter 6