The officers stopped walking, but Jack continued forward.
"Agent Shephard, did you hear what I said? They got an ID on the victim."
"I heard you, detective. She's not going anywhere, I'm still heading to the site."
Detective Reardon gave a look of impatience. He was freezing his balls off and wanted to go to the warm comfort of his heated vehicle. "Whatever you think you're gonna find is buried under a foot of snow. There ain't any forensics left to comb through Special Agent Shephard."
"That's not why I'm going, I expect that you and your men were thorough. You can leave now, I know you and your men have been outside for some time. Agent Austen and I can take over from here." If the truth be told, Jack was eager to be rid of them. He didn't need to hear anymore wisecracks about his 'hardship assignment' with Kate.
Relieved that he was being let off the hook, Reardon nodded and said "We'll see you later then."
Jack gave a tilt of his head, said his thank-yous and proceeded forward, following the quickly disappearing foot tracks. Kate trailed a half-step behind him, her breath puffed out in billows of steam in the freezing cold. Snow flurries stuck to the ends of her eyelashes as the wind-driven snow lifted her pony-tailed hair and blew it forward. She found herself agreeing with the officers, what did Shephard think he was going to accomplish out here under these conditions? And not to mention she was still angry at him for the fraternity guy crap he pulled a few minutes ago.
Shortly after, they edged the clearing where the body was found, strewn by a narrow stream that made a light tumbling sound in the background. The snow curtained them as they stood there breathing heavily from the exertion of treading through deep snow. They both sucked hard, the ice cold air filled their lungs as Jack scoured his eyes over the area and then stepped to the spot her body was found. He crouched down and brushed away a thin coat of snow.
Kate watched him carefully, following his every move and then recalled out loud the photographs she saw in the file, "There was minimal blood at the site. He removed a portion of her leg, there should have been tremendous evidence left behind -"
Jack stood up, "He removed the appendage in the stream, Agent. When he was done, he probably walked through it, so he could wash off any blood on his shoes and not leave any tracks behind."
Kate nodded, "How do you think he managed to carry her body into the woods like this? Look at how winded the two of us are just getting here."
Jack smiled, "And did you happen to know that three days ago, there was heavy snowfall as well? It lasted all day too. Based on the coroner's report and her time of death, the subject was disposing the cadaver while it was snowing just like this," he said as he looked around, taking in their surroundings … thinking. He stared at Kate, "Now do you understand why we are out here? I saw your expression before, Agent. You were skeptical. Admit it. Or maybe you're just freezing." He ran his eyes over her frame, lingering on her trim thighs and he had to shake off the memory and feel of his face buried in between them. He must stop these thoughts.
Icy snow, as sharp as daggers slashed at her face, her teeth chattered. Kate understood now. Put yourself in the position of the killer.
Jack began to talk again. "Our guy is strong, the crimes also suggest a certain athleticism. He had to bring her out here by foot. And didn't he lift and carry the other victims in Mass without any signs of dragging?" Jack looked around, "There is no way to navigate a snowmobile through this dense forest." Jack paused again as he tried to form the image of the UNSUB in his mind. "Determined too. He wasn't going to let the snow and lousy weather stop him from leaving her in the spot he planned ahead for. " Jack also knew that no matter how much the criminal thinks he knows, the more he does to try to evade detection or throw them off his track, the more behavioral clues he's going to give them to work with. The criminal venturing into Maine, now leaving the body in the woods - these were clues.
"Any thoughts, Austen?"
Kate knew that he had read her profile of the likely offender in the Massachusetts murders and wondered why he was asking her again. She felt tentative as a gust of chilling wind went right through her. "He will be an athletically built white male in his late twenties to early thirties. He has an anti-social personality and probably compensates for his personality by vigorous exercise, maybe weight-lifting … he may even drive a status symbol type of car. He will be neat in his appearance and might well come across as a ladies man."
Jack shook his head with a wry smile. Kate noticed and with a hint of frustration thought that he may be mocking her. She bit out, "What? What did I say wrong?"
"Nothing. Your profile sounds eerily like yours truly, that's all." He grinned before adding, "Minus the status symbol type of car … obviously."
Kate couldn't help smirking. "Don't flatter yourself, you're way past your late twenties and … a 'ladies man'? Yeah right … pfffft … obviously." The last part she said lying through her teeth.
He detected the sarcasm in her comment, but couldn't help thinking whether he had indeed managed to turn her off from him for good. And he didn't like how the bitter idea of that tasted on his tongue.
He then advanced towards Kate without speaking, so that he was now inches away from her. They stood face to face for a long pause, their eyes holding each other's gaze in silence. He saw a shiver run through her, but unbeknownst to him, it had nothing to do with the cold.
Snapped back into reality, Jack pulled away abruptly and announced to her, "We're done here. How about we head to the car and warm you up a little?"
Without waiting for her consent, Jack moved around her and began to trod in their tracks towards the road. He was ahead of her, leading the way and Kate couldn't see his expression - the small smile he wore. Once they made it to the back stretch where their car was waiting for them, Kate began to fish around in her pockets for the keys. Using her teeth to yank her gloves off by their fingertips, she finally found them and began to walk to the driver's side.
"Austen, why don't you let me take over the wheel now?"
Kate wanted to object, a snide remark on the edge of her tongue, ready to lash out at his apparent sexist manner. Instead she clamped her lips together and sealed her mind of him. Jack recognized the scornful look she gave him, but ignored it. "C'mon, it's my turn. You drove over here," he said, his voice commanding and not giving a hint that this was up for discussion. So Kate wound her arm and tossed him the keys. It was a forceful gesture, Jack had to over-extend his arm to catch them. He shook his head and smiled as he climbed in.
Jack turned on the engine, hoping to get the heat up and running as soon as possible. He turned to look at Kate in the front seat beside him and watched her rub her upper arms. He could see the lingering snowflakes melt on her cheeks and forehead.
"You could probably stand to wear a longer and warmer coat, you know."
Kate rolled her eyes, pressed back hard against the seat. No shit, genius. She put on a tight smile, "You're right. I didn't expect it to be so much colder here than in Boston. Maybe I can stop by LL Bean and pick up a jacket when we're in town later."
Jack nodded, "Thank you. I didn't want to have to make that an order." He tried to sound light, but he could see that she was in no laughing mood.
He knew why. "Austen, when I pulled those officers aside back there, it angered you, didn't it?"
"Sure."
"It was just smoke, Agent. I wanted to gain their trust and give them deference. We're on their turf."
"You don't think I know that?"
"Okay then." Jack said, content to let the matter drop now and start driving.
But Kate refused to let this one go.
"It matters. What you did, Agent Shephard … it matters."
Jack was turning to face her again, studying the expression over her face. Yes, she had his full attention.
"The Maine Police Department know who you are. They look first to you in order to see how to treat me."
And Kate was right, of course.
"Duly noted, Austen," Jack said as he shifted into drive and turned the car back onto the road. "The weather is bad out here. How about we check into the hotel first, grab a late lunch and go later to the coroner's - if the snow let's up?" Jack asked.
Kate knew him well enough at this point, that she wasn't being consulted. He was merely outlining the rest of their day's schedule.
The snow was coming down in sheets as they slowly turned onto the main highway and Kate was now secretly grateful that Jack insisted on doing the driving. Especially, when she saw the way Jack leaned forward to peer through the windshield as the wipers swooshed back and forth. Jack was squinting and she'd never seen him look so … so unaccommodating. No. Special Agent in Charge Shephard was never unaccommodated. He gave orders and agents jumped. And yet she saw a vulnerability to him now, she thought she had seen that side of him before when they were together too.
She bit her bottom lip. He frustrated her, always making her feel that she was riding a swell of emotions when he was around. And, generally men, just didn't make her emotional. That was a fact.
After twenty minutes of silence, Kate reached over to the radio dial. Jack looked over and she paused and asked, "Agent Shephard, would you mind if I turned on some music?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders, "Sure that's fine."
Kate began to flip through the stations, when she felt his hand over hers. "Austen, stop right there." She listened to the tune for a second, lifted her hand from the button and quirked her eyebrow at him, "The Pixies? Really?"
Jack didn't say anything.
"I see. Special Agent in Charge Shephard likes to listen to the Pixies. I get it now."
Jack held in his chuckle. "You get what?"
"Nothing."
"Kate."
"Tattoos, alternative rock music, driving old clunkers. I'm just sayin'…."
"What are you talking about?"
She was withholding a giggle that was bubbling to get out, "Your reputation could be harmed. You know … if the other agents found out that the uptight, snobby, navel gazing boss of theirs is just like the rest of us."
He tilted his head back, "Me … uptight?"
"You're kidding. You have to know what everyone says about you."
Jack didn't have his head in the sand. He knew he had a reputation for being … an asshole. He actually preferred it that way. It kept things from getting … personal. Kept things clean … not messy. Kate … is messy.
HAMPTON INN HOTEL - WATERFRONT PORTLAND, ME
After they had checked into their rooms, they both ate at a diner that was across the street from the hotel. Kate had thought about just ordering room service and taking a much needed break from him. He exhausted her, his intensity, peppering her with questions about the case and his ability to go from hot to cold in a blink of an eye. Yep, it was too much Jack Shephard in a twenty-four hour period for her to handle.
But when he knocked on her door and she saw him, with his jacket in hand, she couldn't stop her eyes from darting to his broad shoulders that were covered in a form fitting grey button down shirt. She blinked and could almost feel those sinewy muscles of his chest and arms at work under her fingers.
What else could she do but say yes and join him?
They sat in a booth, both reading the menus. Kate glossed right over the grilled cheese sandwich, hoping he wouldn't order one so the innuendo could ensue. She was going to play it safe and have a soup and salad. No bread, no cheese … nothing that could invite him to make a comment.
As they drank their coffee, he took a very subtle sweep over her and noticed that her breasts looked fuller and thought she could be menstruating, actually hoping that she was. Since their night together, he had often wondered if that moment of shared carelessness would come back to haunt both of them. It had been months ago now, so he could only assume that they were in the clear. She had made him feel crazy in the heat of the moment, he was not in his usual control then. He was irresponsible and yet it felt right.
They talked about the case. Nothing more. And Jack knew then, that Alpert was right. Kate was sharp. Her instincts were honed and it was a matter of time that she would begin interviewing incarcerated serial killers, gathering information for the database. He still couldn't figure out whether her physical beauty was advantageous or not. Part of him thought that men would cave under her, that they would break out into a cold sweat under her interrogation, he could practically see their carotid arteries pounding in their necks, their brains heading south under her scrutiny. But they would get off on it and that disturbed him.
He has studied serial killers for a long time now and he knew that Kate would arouse them and they would lie to get her attention. Fuck, they lie to him, try to manipulate him too with their mind games. Even he had managed to fuel some of the subjects' darkest sexual fantasies. There was one that he specifically recalled that wrote him a 'love' poem. It was lovely, really. It went into lengthy detail about how Jack would be tied down and naked. His arms and legs would be lacerated with a scalpel, while other sharp objects would be shoved in various orifices. How the subject would keep him alive as long as his body would hold out and revive him when he would pass out or was close to death because of all the pain. Yeah, that subject was very charming.
Showered, wearing drawstring pajama pants with only the quiet lull of the TV on, Jack was sprawled lazily on the hotel bed, but he was antsy. It was a familiar feeling when he was working this type of case. There was a heady rush to it. But mostly, the job was isolating. So much of what he did, was too difficult to share with anyone.
Spending his days looking at mutilated corpses, particularly when they are children, it's not the kind of thing he ever wanted to share with his friends or family. Over dinner with a date, he couldn't say, 'I had a very interesting lust murder today. Let me tell you all about it.'
Except for Penny. She understood.
And then there was Kate. Only a few doors away, but the mental space between them seemed to stretch for an eternity. He wanted to go talk to her, maybe to get some of this weight off of his chest. She would understand. He felt it within a minute of their first meeting.
Jack thought about going and knocking on her door. But he knew that he didn't have the self-restraint to keep it platonic right now. And he wouldn't have the patience to make it too great for her either. It would be quick, both of them adjusting their clothes just enough to find much needed mutual release. In just those few hours in her apartment, they had both become experts at knowing how to find and trigger their pleasure points. How was she able to do it? To go from innocence to sexual abandon in a flash?
He rubbed his tired eyes and wondered if the hotel's fitness room was still open, now that he felt a sudden urge to exercise and simply bench press the thoughts away. Those thoughts were interrupted when the phone rang. He recognized the number on the screen and smiled before he answered. At times, he wondered if Rick could read his mind - it was like the guy knew when he needed to talk.
"Jack."
"Rick."
"You're up in Maine, man. Saw you on the evening news, you telegenic bastard." Jack chuckled, Rick always seemed to have his antennae up when it came to him. Rick was referring to the press conference from that morning when he and Kate arrived in Portland. They were bombarded by the local media.
"Yeah. I'm in Portland for a few days."
Rick smiled, but he was concerned. When did Jack begin working cases again? But when he had seen the beautiful brunette standing at Jack's side, he had it all figured out. Even though Rick wasn't a police detective, he cross-examined witnesses. He knew how to read body language. And his attention had been strictly on the young woman on the TV screen. He noticed an obvious grace to her, but maybe it was the way she held her chin and stood there listening to Jack speak. There almost seemed to be a shadow cast over her eyes and he could tell then that she had grit too, a darker side. And, yes. He was beginning to get a clearer picture of her appeal for his best friend.
"So how are Lori and Carl?"
"They're good. Real good. uhm … actually, Lori's pregnant -"
Jack lifted his back from the headboard and smiled, he knew that they had been trying for a while to have another child. "Congratulations Rick. I'm happy for you guys. That's great news. Give Lori a hug for me."
"Thanks man. We're all excited here. It's real early still and she'd kill me if she knew I said something, but I had to share it with you."
They spoke for a few minutes, mostly about Carl and then about some bureaucratic crap at Rick's job.
Jack could hear Rick chuckle before he said, "Oh another thing Jack. Guess who will be working out of the Boston U.S. Attorney's Office for a couple of months."
Jack rolled his eyes. 'Guess'. He hated this kind of shit. "Just tell me, Rick. You know I don't have a clue."
"Gabriela Busoni."
Fuck!
He glided his palm over his stubbled cheek. "Oh yeah? Good for her." Jack said, his tone light and completely unaffected.
"So, she asked me about you. She told me to tell you to call her-"
"No thanks."
Rick laughed, "Okay. What the hell went so bad between the both of you? You still haven't told me."
"Nothing 'happened'. You know that. We're just not on the same page." Jack was twenty-five when he started sleeping with her (a fellow assistant prosecutor) and when he left DOJ to join the FBI, he wasn't interested in continuing anything afterwards. His mistake though was when he returned to LA a few years later, he kept her name along with others in his social Rolodex and she was always reliable that way. It only took that one call from him. She was hot and they had fun, but he never felt connected to her though, she didn't get him … something just wasn't there.
Rick couldn't help but wonder if Jack not being 'on the same page' with a smart and very beautiful attorney had anything to do with a certain young agent.
"Jack, this case you're on now. It's her case, isn't it? Don't try to lie to me. I saw her on TV too. She's stunning by the way, that picture you showed me does her no justice. I know you and … double fuck, man. What are you doing?"
Jack felt his chest tighten, a ripple of unease went right through him. "Rick, it's not what you think. The case is getting complicated, there's more Bureau exposure. I had to get involved."
"Whatever, Jack. Like you're the only qualified Profiler on the Bureau's payroll? You're good, but we both know why you're in Maine. I mean … is she there in bed with you right now?"
"Good night, Rick." Jack hung up on him then.
Cursing, Jack placed his phone on the night table and spotted the key to his jeep alongside his wallet. He lifted and studied it before placing the key back. Grumbling now, he walked over to the minibar and pulled out a small single serving bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin. He didn't bother with a tonic mixer, he just breathed in and unscrewed the cap. He put the bottle to his mouth and felt his body tense, ready for the heady flow and heat to fill his stomach.
When he finished, he reached in again, but this time for the overpriced tiny bottle of Absolut Vodka and brought it back to the bed. He palmed the car key off the table and laid his head on the pillow. Behind his closed lids, he could practically read her letter.
Jack didn't attend Penny's funeral. Well, at least not officially. Instead he watched it from afar, behind the wheel of his car while she was laid to rest. He wanted to go, but because he was under investigation and there were questions surrounding his potential negligence, Assistant Director Locke had requested that he not go. And then there was the whole other issue that his presence might upset her family.
It was about a month later when he received a visit from Penny's attorney. He merely asked Jack to accept an envelope that was addressed to him. It took six beers for Jack to finally have the courage to open the large manila envelope. Inside was another smaller white one with his name on it. He recognized her neat and feminine handwriting immediately. He practically reeled then, his right hand shot up to his forehead while he blinked back the tears. His hands actually shook as he unfolded the piece of paper.
Dear Jack,
Bloody hell. If you're reading this, well then, some serious shit went down (as you Yanks like to say). I know you're not laughing. But then again, you always said I was lacking in british wry humour. Oh Jack, I know you're blaming yourself. But I promise you, that I already know the reason I am in the place where I am now, is because I was either not following your orders, not listening to you, I was being careless or simply not following Bureau protocol. So please don't do this to yourself. We both knew the dangers of the job. Each time I left my flat, I knew it could be the last time. So pour that bottle of Scotch you have in your hand now down the lavatory.
Thank you, thank you for being there for me when I needed someone. Yes, you were moody and sour at times. But your loyalty and kindness can't be surpassed. Yes Jack, as much as you don't want to admit it, you are kind.
I am not one for lengthy ballads. So, I will keep it short. I love you. And as a token of my affection, something you can always remember me by, I am leaving you my most prized earthly position. You already know what it is. After all, you "coveted" it so.
Your partner forever,
Special Agent Widmore
aka Penny
And there it was inside another even smaller yellow utility envelope, the key to her 1971 Ford Bronco.
A/N: Hey, I hope you have all been enjoying the holiday season. My family and I had a wonderful Christmas, but I have to admit to being exhausted.
Anyway, here is the next chapter. Very Jack-centric, which I love to write. I hope you enjoyed it!
Also, I need to credit Thomas Harris's "Silence of the Lambs". I borrowed some of the film's dialogue for Jack and Kate's conversation in the car about his treatment of her in front of the Maine police officers. I always liked that scene in the film.
I've been working on some of the flashback scenes for Jack and Kate and would love to know how graphic or dark (thematically) would you guys feel comfortable with me exploring.
I've been experimenting with my writing style. With each "reveal", I try to introduce a new question. Is it working? Or is it just confusing?
As always, your reviews make me smile and feel encouraged. Thank you!
