Chapter Eleven
A range of emotions flitted across Jane's features. "What? When?"
"Next week." Maura glanced at her watch, raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I'm afraid your hour is up." She stood, buttoning her coat and settling it around her waist.
The moment – whatever it was between them – dissipated like smoke, and Maura saw the exact moment things shifted. Jane's blink, a second of confusion. The hardened mask of bravado.
Jane let out a laugh of disbelief. "'My hour is up?' What is this, therapy?" She rose, shaking her head. A hand went to her firearm, an automatic gesture, as she adjusted the gun and belt. The movement shifted the fabric of her button down and Maura watched, lost in thought.
Therapy. It was said in jest, but Maura had to admit the comparison had some value. She shied away from the thought.
Jane straightened and scanned the street as she came to stand at Maura's shoulder. "Next week, huh? How'd you manage that?" She looked down abruptly and Maura tilted her head back at the sudden proximity.
She settled her purse on her shoulder, attempting to once again wrap equanimity around herself like a cloak. The idea of returning to the streets, the long walk back, the heavy press of empty rooms at home… It swirled like dread, insidious. Frustration seeped into her voice.
"I talked to Cavanaugh yesterday. He was amenable." Jane gave her a look and she amended, "After I explained my reasoning, he understood."
"I bet," Jane grumbled, but she made no further protest. She shuffled her feet, glanced towards the ground. She seemed reluctant to depart. "So where are you headed?" she asked.
Maura turned her face into the breeze and inhaled. She clutched her coat tighter at the neck. "I'd thought of visiting the park. I passed it on the way here."
Jane frowned as her gaze sharpened. "On the way here? That's…" She glanced down the street, calculating. "out of the way…"
Maura's eyes widened briefly, realizing what she had let slip. "Would you care to join me?" The words were rushed, but she didn't regret them when she noticed the pleased surprise on Jane's face.
Jane grinned down at her. "I thought my hour was up." The smirk and tucked chin reminded her of times past. Banter, playful. You can still do that. Laughter.
Delicate… A pang shot through her and she rubbed her arm, trying to banish the lingering ache.
Maura tried a smile. "I hardly dictate the schedules of detectives at the station."
The smirk slowly fell, and Maura knew her attempt at nonchalance failed when Jane continued to study her. She turned to the side, ignoring the bite of the wind. She didn't want to be analyzed.
The chill in the air crept beneath her layers, and she began to second-guess her invitation.
Jane glanced at her own watch. "I can spare a while longer." She gestured with her hands and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Shall we?"
…
Red and gold and brown. Leaves colored the trees and the grass, splashes even adorning the playground and small pond. It was as though a child scattered her finger paint in hapless designs. Even the fountain in the middle. Despite the haphazard display, there was a kind of beauty in the chaos. If she squinted, she could imagine an impressionist painting. She wondered what Jane thought of the scenery.
She glanced to the side where Jane strolled, hands clasped behind her back, keeping her own counsel. The park was busy, full of mothers and children, dog walkers, runners. And others like themselves who meandered the paths, enjoying the lukewarm rays of the sun.
Shouts and laughter heralded a herd of running children. They rushed past in a game of chase, bundled in too many layers. Maura stepped closer to Jane as they dodged their legs and continued along the path. A sharp call from a group of women halted their headlong sprint, and they turned back amid grumbles and sighs of dejection. One boy kicked an acorn with more force than necessary and let out a colorful four-letter word, Boston accent strong.
It shocked a laugh out of Maura, which startled the youngster. Jane joined in with her own hoarse laughter. The boy jumped, head whipping around, and an expression of panic crossed his face when he saw they had heard. He sprinted the rest of the way back.
"I think we scared him," Maura said, leaning in to Jane conspiratorially.
"Sorry!" came a faint call, and Maura looked up to see one of the women raising a hand in apology.
Maura raised hers in acknowledgement.
"Served him right," Jane said, still chuckling. "Reminds me of Tommy."
"Oh?"
At some point Maura had grabbed Jane's arm, and she now found herself holding on to the crook of her elbow as they strolled, Jane keeping her arm out as though guiding the way. She watched Jane's face and saw a genuine smile, one that brought a familiar warmth to her chest, so she tightened her grip and kept walking. There was something rewarding about making Jane smile.
"Tommy always had a dirty mouth," Jane continued. "Ma caught him in a curse almost every day. 'Course, it was always my fault." Jane shook her head. "'Bad influence' my ass."
"And I suppose you were the exception?"
Jane turned to her with mock affront. "Of course!" she said, before her nose crinkled and they shared another laugh.
The park had been a good idea.
She felt the muscles beneath her fingers flex off and on, and she noticed Jane working her hands one at a time. Tighten, release. Tighten, release. Discrete, not meant to draw attention. But noticeable to someone who knew the history of those flexing tendons.
Her brow furrowed. "Did you bring gloves?" she asked, already grasping a scarred hand between her own. The fingers were freezing and she hissed in sympathy.
Jane tried to pull away. "Nah. They're fine. Just a little stiff."
"Low blood flow only exacerbates the cold." They must be so painful. She brought the hand to her mouth and blew, trying to cup the warmth around Jane's palm and fingers.
Jane's mouth parted and her easy stride broke. She almost stumbled, but caught herself as Maura continued to breathe and massage her hand.
"I'm fine," she said at Maura's questioning look. She fidgeted, her head turning this way and that, as though unsure where to look, unable to settle on one direction. "Maur, it's only like fifty degrees out. It's no big deal."
"Your hands say otherwise." She pushed her thumbs and fingers in slow circles, working outwards from scarred flesh. Though Jane may not realize, Maura relished that she trusted her enough to touch and care for her hands. She looked up at Jane through her lashes, face still downturned. Let me do this. Let me help.
Another breath, more wet warmth to ease the ache in chilled hands.
Jane abruptly stopped and turned. Maura almost bumped into her. She halted just short of touching and took a step back.
Those same hands gently grasped her elbows, preventing her retreat, and Maura found herself enclosed in a space that cut out the rest of the park. So close that there was only Jane. She gripped Jane's arms in return, watching her face in question.
"Maur…" Jane began, but cut off with a gruff clearing of her throat. "When you do that—" Brown eyes danced across her face, conflicted. Maura raised her eyebrows, open. Waiting. "I can't…" Jane took in a shaky breath and let it out. The puff of air warmed Maura's cheeks.
"What?" Maura asked, quiet.
After a long moment, the grip on her elbows tightened briefly, then released. Jane gave her a smile.
"Thank you." Emphatic, but laced with a kind of sorrow that tugged at Maura's awareness.
"You're…" Maura watched Jane turn away and begin walking again. "Welcome," she murmured, frowning.
Maura quickened her pace to catch up. She winced as her feet began to protest. She had forgotten her shoes were not made for long treks. Her earlier jaunt around town had already stressed and rubbed enough to cause blisters.
Jane took one look at her and knew what was wrong. She came to a halt. "Geez. Talk about pain. Why are you wearing heels today again?"
So I could feel like myself once more. Maura kept silent, hoping the thought didn't show on her face.
Jane jutted her chin towards a nearby bench and raised an eyebrow in silent question.
Maura nodded. "Let's sit for a while."
They settled on the bench. Maura crossed her legs and Jane leaned back, posture casual with a sloped back and legs outstretched. Jane fiddled with her hands, fingers rubbing against scar tissue, before she spoke.
"So what have you been up to?"
Maura knew a probing question when she heard it. Despite Her mind flashed to heightened reflexes. Stuttered heartbeats at the smallest sounds. The garbage truck, a car door. Barking dogs. Triple checking the locks, and that one desperate, 3am consideration of installing bars across all the windows. Sunlight and sleep convinced her against the idea. But it wasn't all bad. There was also yoga, and warm bathes. Research in her office. Strawberries for Bass.
Maura took a careful breath, refusing to acknowledge the growing tightness. "I've caught up on my journals. Reading. Exercise."
Jane nodded, pursing her lips and brushing away a curl that blew in her face. "Bass behaving himself?"
That brought a fond smile. "Mostly. I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't some form of misplaced courtship behavior. I've been researching…"
Air puffed from Jane's nose in suppressed humor. "Well, he is banging against—" She broke into a full-fledged laugh at Maura's unamused look and raised a hand. "Okay okay. Sorry."
Maura shrugged, gazing into the distance. "It fills the silence."
The air around them shifted, and Maura regretted the impulsive confession. She watched her hands in her lap, feeling the tightness in her lungs twist a bit more. Jane leaned forward with a sigh, bracing elbows on knees.
"You haven't asked," Jane said, voice low, uncertain. "I thought you'd want to know."
The investigation. Maura closed her eyes briefly. Maybe she didn't want to hear. Maybe verbalizing the lack of progress would only make her situation all the more real. She knew Jane would call if they found anything. When she opened her eyes, she found Jane watching her.
"I know how it is, Maur."
"Jane, please…"
Jane raised a placating hand, brown eyes searching for and finding hers. "I'm not going to push. But I know what it's like. How you pull away without even realizing it." A thumb rubbed across a scarred palm, an unconscious gesture. "It's self-preservation. Because he could be everywhere, anywhere, and you start to wonder…"
Maura's heart sped. She felt exposed, here in the open. "Jane, don't."
"Because I know what it's like. The hours at home." Jane continued with slow precision. "Why do you think I came to you? Back with Hoyt."
There was a pause as Jane let those words sink in. Bare, open. Let them grow in the space between them. Maura clasped her hands together to hide their tremble. She remembered that day.
I've never been more scared in my life.
It was the day she had first learned of Jane's trust. Something she would never take for granted.
Jane let out a humorless laugh. "You can't even take a shower all the way through, without turning off the water, just to check, because what if that sound you thought you heard…what if it's him?"
Maura's breath hitched and her eyes snapped up in surprise. How…?
Jane nodded slowly as she held Maura's gaze. Yes, her eyes said. I know. The phone at Jane's belt vibrated, but her focus never wavered.
"And I don't want you to go through that alone."
A brief flash of old resentment and pain – borne of months spent rejected – surged through Maura's veins. "Like you left me alone before?" It held more venom than she intended.
Some of the color drained from Jane's face. She looked stricken.
Guilt consumed Maura and she reached out, shaking her head, her other hand covering her mouth. "I didn't mean that, Jane. I'm sorry."
Jane took the offered hand, gazing down at it. Still pale. Her words were slow, but heartfelt. "I will…always regret that." The almost broken earnestness behind the statement made Maura frown.
"But it will never happen again. And I will find him." Her brown eyes burned with a determination that Maura had seen only a few times before, and she found it hard to look away.
"I believe you." Maura squeezed the hand holding hers.
"I hate how—" Jane's phone vibrated a second time and she cut off with a clench of teeth. "Dammit," she muttered.
Maura straightened, unaware of how close she had scooted until then. "If that's not work related, I'm a monkey's uncle."
Jane shot her a confused look, then sighed and pulled out her phone, checking the caller ID. "It's Frost. They're wondering where I am." Her shoulders slumped, her eyes apologetic.
"Go," Maura urged.
Jane glanced at her sore feet and Maura smiled. "It's okay. I'll call a cab."
She stood, one hand adjusting her belt out of habit. "You sure?"
"I'm fine, Jane. Go."
Maura watched the long strides until she disappeared around a bend in the path. She sighed, lifting her face towards the sky. Cirrus clouds drifted above, mere wisps in the upper reaches of the troposphere. The blue was lighter today, more of a cerulean than azure, she thought as she scanned the heavens. Though she didn't believe in signs, it felt fitting.
She was emotionally drained. Her first day out and about, and all this happened. She needed time to process.
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
And that time…would be later. Maura suppressed a sigh and lifted her head.
A middle-aged man stood a ways off, in an obvious attempt to not infringe on her space. Hair that was still more pepper than salt was trimmed short, neat. Based on the slight bulge in his jacket, he had experienced the not uncommon mid-life expansion of the waist. A few lines marred his features, legacies from a life well lived, no doubt. But his eyes were kind, as was his unassuming smile.
"Sorry to bother you. I'm new to Boston and couldn't help but notice you and your girlfriend seemed familiar with the area."
She flushed, taken off guard. "Oh. She's not my girlfriend."
His face showed surprise, then contrition. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh! My apologies. I didn't mean to assume."
"That's all right."
"I didn't mean to bother," he said, already backing away.
"It's fine," Maura assured, growing amused at his obvious discomfiture. "Did you need something?"
"I was just going to ask if you knew of any good restaurants."
Maura thought for a moment as he approached. "There's quite a few around this area. Where are you located?"
"It's a ways off. Beacon Hill."
"Oh?" Maura smiled. "I live in the same area. Perhaps we'll be neighbors."
His eyes lit up. "You don't say?" He stepped forward and gestured to the bench. "May I?" Maura gave her assent. "The name's Henry," he said, letting out a light groan as he sat.
"Maura."
"So, any good places around there?"
She chatted a while about various recommendations, running through a list in her mind from high-priced cuisine to the small ma-and-pop places. He listened attentively, nodding at intervals, until finally conversation petered out. The silence stretched, and she saw the moment he realized he had overstayed his welcome. He nodded once, in thanks, and rose with a smile.
"Well, thank you for your time. It was nice meeting you, Dr. Isles," he said with a wave. "Maybe our paths will cross again."
"Nice to meet you as well."
He was twenty feet away when she realized she had not given him her last name. Several moments passed before the realization sank in. It came in intervals. She went numb. A kind of numbness the cold couldn't reach. Her hands gripped the edge of the bench, rough wood digging into her palms.
No.
But how else?
No.
A sick terror overwhelmed her senses, threatening to beat out of her chest with every short breath she couldn't take, every loud pulse of her heart. She shook. Her entire body trembled. She looked down to the bench where he had sat.
A small notecard. Sky blue.
A noise wrenched itself out of her throat, ugly and raw, as she lurched to her feet. When she looked up, he was gone.
…