Blood Music - Chapter Ten
Here's another chapter a little shorter and a little sooner than I'd intended. Am holding off until I've solved an issue before I post a longer chapter. (These stories are as much a mystery to me as they are to the reader!). I thank you for your reviews and comments and favorites. Please let me know what you think of this chapter. I truly appreciate your opinions.
Disclaimer: Don't own the show, the characters, etc. If I did, I'd have a computer that will give back any stories I've entered into it instead of relegating them to an inacessible never-never land. Lyle is so on thin ice right now.
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
The Scent of Roses
"Shit! Shit!"
Teresa Lisbon and Grace VanPelt stood breathlessly as they watched the glow of taillights disappearing into the darkness.
Lisbon felt as though someone had tightened a band around her chest. Her exhalations condensed into a steamy cloud to join with VanPelt's as she gasped for air after their mad dash toward the accelerating van.
Jane was gone. It was her fault.
She could hear a screech of tires behind her as the SUV containing Cho and Rigsby pulled up next to the two women. Both scrambled into the back, Lisbon yelling "Go! Go!" and the tires spun on the wet pavement as Cho floored it.
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
Jane watched Marla's face closely. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what she held out in front of her. He strained against the silken rope around his chest and could feel no give in it. Where was the team?
He swallowed and looked at what she held before her. It was a small glass dish of white powder. He almost smiled at the innocuousness of it. She walked slowly toward him, the smile once again drawing her full lips wide and her eyes glittered as she fixed them on his own.
"This is special just for your, Roger. I took it from the clinic. It's something we're still testing."
Whatever the white powder could be, he was sure it was something he wasn't going to like.
She approached him slowly the dish held in one hand. She stopped before him to stand for a moment with that eerie smile still in place before her other hand reached out and she began to stroke his cheek.
"Marla, listen to me, please." Jane said trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. He really, really didn't want to know what was in the dish. "I know that you think I'm Roger but, I'm not. I'm Patrick Jane, I work for the CBI. I'm here to help you. Let me help you."
She stood before him; the smile faded and her eyes flickered with doubt for a nanosecond then she smiled once again. "Roger, don't play with me. I know you're my Roger. You knew that I'd find you again. You left me alone for such a long time. I missed you more than you could ever know. I dream about you every night . . . the soft feel of your hair . . . ," she began to run her fingers through his sweat matted curls, ". . . the feel of your body . . . " With a muted clink, she set the dish down on the nightstand. Her hands began to trail down his neck. She gripped his shoulders and leaned forward. He closed his eyes. Her touch made him wince as though it caused pain.
"Are you afraid of me?" she asked, surprise in her voice. "You shouldn't be afraid. I love you Roger, I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you."
He felt the heat from her body as she leaned closer and pressed her lips to his forehead. She trailed soft kisses down the side of his face to his neck. He sat as though made of stone. Perhaps if he didn't react at all, it would help snap her back to reality; if that was even possible. She seemed immune to reason.
The bedroom was stuffy. It smelled like an old house, musty and scented by a hundred others before this strange couple played out their drama within its walls. It also smelled of roses. Jane made note and thought that it was probably an appropriate scent for such an arcane atmosphere. Victorians loved roses and violets and . . .
He clenched his teeth tightly as he could feel her hands once again at the hem of his shirt. "Please, don't."
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
The SUV barreled into the night. No one said a word as their eyes searched the darkness for any sign of the van. If the energy from their combined tension could create heat, the vehicle would have the light rainfall sizzling as it landed on the shiny, black metal.
"We should've put a tracking device on him." said Cho, his voice not betraying the worry and dread that made him grip the steering wheel so tightly that his hands throbbed.
"We weren't supposed to lose him." said Lisbon, not quite as successful at keeping the emotion from her voice. "I told him we'd watch him, Dammit!"
"Boss" said VanPelt "the club was too crowded, we would've needed a snowplow to get to the door any faster. It's not your fault."
"It's my fault, if it's anyones" said Cho "I could hear what was going on, the sound of struggling, but I couldn't get back out of that alley fast enough."
"We took the knife away from the guy and just left them there to sort it out" said Rigsby, trying to help his partner deal with the guilt. "We got back as quickly as we could . . . " his voice lowered to near inaudibility "it wasn't fast enough."
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
They drove until nearly dawn, hoping to pick up a signal from Jane's mic. They'd already put out an APB on the van, but there were probably hundreds of such vehicles in the county if not thousands. Neither of the two women had been able to get a license plate ID and the van could only be described as 'older and dark colored'. To say that it was disheartening was a serious understatement.
The horizon was beginning to lighten and the stars tucked themselves away. Lisbon was numb with weariness. They'd lost him . . . again. She didn't want to find another body lying somewhere in a field. She didn't want to have to look at another blonde man staring up at the sky. They had to find him . . . they had to.
"Cho, let's get back to the club and see if anyone's still there."
"Boss, it closes down at three a.m. I doubt we'll be able to find anyone to talk to."
"Maybe there's still someone there cleaning up or doing the books or something. We don't have anything else."
Cho obediently turned the SUV around at a deserted intersection. Traffic hadn't yet begun in this rural part of the county. There probably wouldn't be much of it anyway. Well, maybe people commuted from the small farms that dotted the grassy, rolling hills. If so, it wasn't evident at the moment. There was no other traffic on this lonely road. They drove back to the city in dispirited silence.
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
The sun knifed its way through the gap in the heavy damask drapes. It shone into his eyes and he blinked down at the sleeping woman curled against his body. In sleep, she looked normal, sweet, sane. Her hand rested on his stomach and he could feel her warm breath on his bare chest as she exhaled softly. His head ached, his arms ached. He pulled against the cord that looped around his wrists and then around the turned mahogany bedposts. She murmured in reaction to his movement and pulled closer to him but didn't seem to awaken.
It was daylight. They'd surely find him now. He just had to keep talking to her trying to stall anything she may have planned for 'Roger'.
The dish of white powder still stood on the nightstand. He could see it sparkle in the shaft of sunlight, like sugar or powdery snow. Whatever it was, it wasn't something that they were used to looking for at the coroners office or they'd have already figured out what killed those guys. He shivered even though the room was warm.
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
The arrived back at the club within twenty minutes. As they'd thought, the door was closed and locked. The few windows had been blacked out by a thick coating of paint so there was no way to see if anyone was still inside. The sign stuck to the door gave an emergency number but some of the numerals had peeled off and the number was incomplete. They'd have to get the information from their own computers. Lisbon typed in the request and after several moments, it appeared on her smart phone's screen. There was no name listed as a contact, only the number. She quickly dialed it and got a sleepy female voice that said, "What?"
"This is Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon of the CBI, we've got an emergency that we need your help with."
"Teresa of the whaa?" said the sleepy voice not yet fully with it.
"California Bureau of Investigation", she said somewhat tersely, she was too tired and worried to be pleasant.
"Oh . . . OK . . . what can I help you with?"
"What is your name for starters?"
"Bobbie, err . . Roberta Delveccio."
"Ms. Delveccio, can you come down to the club? We have some questions for you."
"Right now?"
"Yes" said Lisbon, biting her tongue before she could add "you idiot!"
"OK, I'll be right down."
They were about to get back into the SUV to wait instead of standing on the damp sidewalk when the heavy door creaked open and a very tall woman in a bathrobe squinted out at them. The four agents looked at each in surprise. They hadn't realized that the emergency contact actually lived over the club. This wasn't an unpleasant discovery after such a stressful night.
They stepped into the quiet, cavernous space. It was now brightly lit by overhead industrial type fixtures and they could see how actually shabby it was without the darkness that was punctured by dancing lights and pounded by loud music. It smelled of stale liquor and sweat and cologne. The walls and ceiling were painted with peeling black paint and there was a large pile of trash that had been swept into the center of the dance floor.
Roberta, 'Bobbie', Delveccio shuffled over to one of the few tables in the corner of the room near the bar and removed the chairs that were upturned upon it's scarred surface. She gestured for them to sit and blinked sleepily before asking, "Would anyone like some coffee? I'm going to need some if you want me to stay conscious for longer than about five minutes. I'm going to make a pot even if you don't want any."
"Some coffee would be nice, thank you." said Lisbon. Actually coffee would be a very good idea right now. No one was going to bed before they found their missing consultant.
The tall, blonde woman tucked her pink chenille bathrobe tighter around her ample bosom as she shuffled toward the bar to make coffee. He wild blonde hair was tucked messily into an elastic band at the nape of her neck. Rigsby realized with a start that it was the bouncer with whom he'd had the stare-down the previous evening. She didn't look quite so intimidating in a fuzzy pink bathrobe.
"I can answer your questions from here." said Roberta as she stepped behind the bar and began to fill the reservoir of the coffee-maker with water from the tap.
"Last night, one of our people, here on an undercover assignment disappeared from this club. We need your help to find him."
"Thought I recognized that tall guy with you. He'd kind of hard to miss. You looking for the cute little blonde guy was with him?"
"Yeah, good memory." said Cho who'd recognized the woman as soon as she opened the door to let them in.
"Yeah, well, he looked like the poster that got passed around here a couple of nights ago. Someone else is looking for a guy that looks like him."
"A poster?" said Lisbon with renewed wakefulness, her bloodshot eyes opening wider to look at Roberta.
"Yeah, got it here somewhere." she said as she began to rummage behind the bar. They could hear various things clinking and rattling then she triumphantly produced the flyer with a loud "Aha!"
She brought it over to them, her bare feet slapping on wooden flooring and then turned back to the bar to finish making the coffee.
It was a black and white flyer with the picture of a smiling blonde man and his description below it. It matched Jane's description perfectly and the photo did bear a disquieting resemblance to their consultant. None of the four recognized the name: Roger Mulhulland. He'd been missing since April of 2007. There was a number and a name listed on the bottom of the sheet. There was a large reward offered as well.
"Where did you get this flyer?" asked Lisbon. There was something she couldn't ignore about the photo and description; it would also fit any of the six murder victims.
"Woman that comes in here every so often. She brought it up to me at the door a few weeks ago." Roberta yawned tiredly as she finished measuring the ground coffee into the brewing basket.
"What does this woman look like? asked Lisbon, now nearly vibrating.
"Tall . . . not as tall as me. Blonde, cute, nice body. I would've liked to get to know her better but, there's just something kinda off about her, kinda weird."
Now it was Cho's turn to lean forward with focused alertness. He'd recalled Jane saying that he'd gotten a weird vibe from the woman with the poppers.
Lisbon snatched the flyer off the tabletop and dialed the CBI. She tensely barked an order to the person who answered the phone, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the result.
"Nine thirteen Gravenstein Highway, just outside of town in an unincorporated part of the county!" she barked at them as they hurriedly stood up, Rigsby up-ending his chair in his haste, and rushed as one toward the door. It closed with a loud thud as Roberta Delveccio blinked at them and shrugged. She could smell the coffee as the pot hissed, signaling that the twelve cups of it were now deposited into the glass carafe.
She shrugged and filled a heavy china mug and shuffled toward the door to the stairs that lead back to her apartment. "Weird, indeed."
*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*CBI*
TBC
This is a slightly different style for me. Please let me know what you think of it dear readers.