AN: Short, but critical chapter here. Please let me know what you think. Thanks!
"Horatio?" Her voice was meant to be a shout that would carry through the house and wake him, but it surprised Jenna to hear the softness of it Stanking, frozen, in the middle of the kitchen, she cleared her throat and tried again. "Horatio!" The thud from above allowed her to breathe. She regretted waking him in such a terrible manner, but her legs refused to move.
He raced down the stairs and skidded to a halt upon reaching the kitchen. His trained eyes scanned the scene trying to make sense of it. Jenna stood in the middle of the room wearing the satin sleep shirt she slipped on earlier. Her hair hung haphazardly over her shoulders, seemingly yanked from the ponytail that used to contain it. His gaze roamed to the table next to her. Papers from the file he brought home to study were scattered across it, a couple had fallen to the ground. Looking back at Jenna, he found her eyes, wide and wet, and they scared him.
"Jenna," he said and took a step towards her. She lifted her arm in front of herself and leaned back a bit so he stopped his advance. "Jenna," he said again, "what is it?"
"I've been standing here," she said, "trying not to run." She paused, thinking he would say something. She took his silence as permission to continue. "I need to get in my car. There's still a packed bag in there. I need to drive far away and never look back."
Horatio considered himself a patient man, but this was testing him.
"But I'd rather stay here with you. I love the life we've built in this short time and I want to stay." A tear raced down her cheek which she ignored. Their eyes broke contact as she reached for a paper on the table. The last paper she had read before her world tipped, and held it out to him.
Horatio stepped close and took the paper from her hand. He tried to look into her eyes again but she refused to meet his. He skimmed the page in front of him. It was the statement from the victim he and Eric had interviewed earlier at the hospital. He wanted to find a clue as to what this had to do with Jenna's current state, but failed. "I don't understand, Jenna. Why am I looking at this?"
"It's him," Jenna said. "The South Beach killer. It's Mark Reynolds."
"What?" Horatio asked. "What are you talking about?" He scoured the paper in his hand trying to find the connection he was missing.
"It's the same thing he did to me." She watched him drop the report on the table and give her his complete attention. "The night I came home from my sister's and I drank too much. And we fought? He had followed me. He pulled a gun on me. And told me to get out of the car and put my hands on the trunk." She paused her rushed speech to catch her breath. Horatio pulled a stool from the counter and guided her to it. She didn't know when she had started shaking. The weight of his hand on her shoulder provided enough strength for her to continue. "What it says in that girl's statement. That's exactly what he did to me," she said, referring to the manipulations of the gun along her body. "Then he said he wanted me to remember my place and he left. That was before this incident on the beach yesterday. He couldn't have known the killer was doing that. There were no other survivors." She stood with a newfound energy. "We have to go. We have to get to him before he hurts someone else."
"No," Horatio said. He placed his hands on her shoulders and urged her back down onto the stool. "We are staying right here." As much as he wanted to tear out of the house, find Reynolds, and wrap his hands around his neck, this needed to be handled delicately and by the book. And Jenna, this woman he loved, needed him by her side to be her rock. Satisfied that she would stay seated, he reached for her phone on the table. Noting the tim as four in the morning, he made the call. "Eric. It's Horatio. Mark Reynolds is the South Beach killer. I repeat. Mark Reynolds is the South Beach killer. Put an APB on him and call me when he's in custody." Disconnecting the call he turned back to his horror-stricken girlfriend. He wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead. He wanted to hold her forever.
"What do we do?" she asked, sounding as lost as she felt.
"Now? Now, sweetheart, we wait."