I Can Feel Your Heart Beat.

Rizzoli & Isles

Pairing: Jane Rizzoli/Maura Isles

Author: myIllusion

Rating: R for later chapters

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters-no copyright infringement intended.

This is a bit of everything. Angela and Frank and Phoebe. A bit of Maura and Jane and I felt a need to explain a bit about Harold. I Hope it doesn't creep you all out too much but I wanted to define his behavior a bit so the case can get solved. There will be a bit more action in the next chapter... hope you stick around to see what happens.

Chapter XII " Phone Calls and Memories "

Angela, Phoebe, Frank Sr.

This kid was goin' to be a challenge for sure. Angela snorted at the thought. Never before had she met someone so intent on cuttin' through the bullshit - except for herself of course.

Angela parked Phoebe at the kitchen table, placed a huge slice of breakfast pie and a glass of milk in front of her and told her to, "eat, I'll be right back... I'm gonna go get my husband Frank so ya can meet him and not have any surprises."

She fled through the house yellin' "Frank, where are ya" All the while she was removing every picture of Janie and Frankie from the walls in the hall, the living room and Janie and Frankie's old bedrooms. She didn't want the girl to see a photo of Janie or Frankie on the wall and high tail it outta here before she even got her feet dry. Angela wanted this kid to feel safe and she knew that Phoebe would bolt as soon as she found out Angela was Janie's Ma. The kid was hell bent on keepin' Janie and Maura safe and Angela sensed that protective nature would extend to Janie's family as well.

She found Frank Sr. in the garage tinkerin' with some old pipes. He turned around to face her with a look of concern and worry.

"Frank, I'm gonna talk fast and I want you to listen." She had her arms full of framed photographs and the two photo albums from the coffee table in the living room.

"You gotta box out here I can put these in?"

Frank shook his head at Angela and laughed derisively.

"That's it Angela? You're gonna talk fast because ya need a box? And that's the big thing that's so important I gotta listen to? The whole neighborhood could hear ya screamin' 'Frank, where are ya?' like someone died, you almost give me a heart attack and all ya need is a box? Ya got me all worried thinkin' somethin' happened to Janie or Frankie Jr. for a box?"

"Of course not Frank, now shut-up and listen."

She wandered over to his work bench and dumped the box of scrap pipes Frank was sorting through onto the surface of the table creating a clang and a bangle of pipe noises.

"This 'ell do." And she carefully placed her trove of memorabilia into the now empty container before turning back around to explain things to her very exasperated husband.

"I got that girl that Janie and Maua's been watchin' in the kitchen eatin' breakfast pie. She was runnin' off this mornin' cuz that nut case who's chasin' her tried to kill her last night. She got away from him but don't wanna go back to Janie and Maura cuz she's afraid he'll hurt them."

Frank could only listen for so long without feeling a need to interrupt.

"What are ya talkin' about Angela? Ya sound like ya lost your mind already."

"No Frank listen."

Her voice took on a tone of desperation that Frank had rarely heard. She always tended to over dramatize everything but this was real fear he could hear in her voice and see in her eyes...so he did what she asked. He shut-up and listened.

"We can't tell her we're Janie's parents or she'll take off again... please Frank just go along with me on this until I kin talk her into feelin' safe here. Janie and Maura are gonna be worried and scared unless they know this kid is safe. Accordin' to Frankie she's been runnin' her whole life Frank. I want her to feel safe here until Janie can catch this bastard they been lookin' for."

And just as she finished that last sentence she heard a soft determined voice from the doorway of the garage.

"You're holding something back Angela, some part of truth that belongs to me somehow...of course I can't tell what it is but I know that you are hiding something... but what? I knew you would be a good connection for me. I felt it on the sidewalk. I was all set to walk right by you... but then I felt your concern and your capacity for love... it's enormous. Fierce too, but really big and strong. But you aren't telling me something. I can feel you won't hurt me but you didn't tell me something. You've got a secret that concerns me but I can't figure out how... or why?"

Phoebe was standing in the doorway with her hands thrust into her jean pockets, her head was tilted to the side a bit, staring intensely at Angela and waiting for an answer. She shifted her gaze to Frank and smiled at him - happy with what she saw. He had a good heart too. Every bit as fierce as Angela's but in a softer way. She still wanted to know what they were hiding though.

Angela turned to face the child. She put her hands on her hips and snorted out loud.

"You're really somethin' kid. Okay... you're right, I am hidin' somethin' cuz I don't want you takin' off again. I don't want you out there on the streets with that nut case huntin' ya down. If I promise to tell ya what I'm hidin' later... say in two days, will ya stay here with us? I promise Phoebe. I would never do nothin' to hurt you, I just want you safe and off the streets."

Phoebe felt a little ashamed at making Angela defend herself. She blew a puff of air at her bangs while she was thinking her way through the assorted feelings she was sensing.

Angela was feeling excited, determined, protective, and desperate. It was the desperate flutter that had Phoebe confused. She desperately wanted Phoebe to stay... not in a lonely way. Lots of people in Phoebe's past had been so lonely that they had desperately wanted her to continue staying with them... but this wasn't that. It was some other kind of desperation. More of a protective, frightened worry about her... and Angela's protective need was really intense. More than Phoebe would think normal for a first meeting, almost like she knew Phoebe already and was really attached to the idea of her staying...like family...almost.

She knew Angela would never hurt her that was why she agreed to go with her. But she could feel the big secret she was hiding and she knew the secret was about her, specifically, and that was confusing. How could Angela have that kind of secret about Phoebe when they had only just met? But she trusted Angela, she really liked her and she felt like she should be here for some reason. The same way she felt she belonged at Maura's house. There was a sense of "rightness" in the presence of Angela... and Frank. Whom she hadn't even said one word to yet. With that last thought running through her mind she walked into the room, pulled her hand out of her pocket and reached out to Frank.

"Hi, my name is Phoebe... and ... um... it's really nice to meet you."

Frank smiled down at the strange looking girl. She was the most self assured child he had ever met. Her eyes were deep and piercing with their honesty. The grin she wore was sheepish but sincere. He clasped her hand and shook it firmly.

"The feelin's mutual... Phoebe. I'm Frank." And he returned her sheepish grin with one filled up with mischief.

Phoebe turned away from Frank to smile back at Angela - her lopsided smile.

"Alright Angela, two days and you will tell me your secret?"

Deal, Frank thought. This kid was a piece a work. Angie picks up a stray and somehow he was feeling lucky the kid agreed to stay with them. How did she do that? What a charmer. He would have to keep his eye on her to see how she worked. This Phoebe already had Angela wrapped around her little finger and that was no easy task. He laughed out loud and then snorted with appreciation for the kids moxie.

Angela shook her finger sternly at the girl but smiled none the less before declaring.

"You drive a hard bargain kid... now, come with me I wanna show ya your bedroom. My daughter moved away and don't need to use it no more so ya can stay here as long as ya like sweetie."

And with that she escorted Phoebe out of the garage to show her Janie's old bedroom.

Jane and Maura + one phone call.

Later that evening.

Maura sat on Phoebe's bed and scanned the room looking for clues that might alleviate her current state of helplessness. The girl had run out of the house wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and her boots. Maura's photographic memory processed every piece of clothing that was left behind and matched it against what was missing. Phoebe had neatly folded her new clothes and placed them in her dresser with great care. The bed was tousled from the hasty awakening, but other than that, Maura found nothing that would indicate that Phoebe had been hurt during the early morning encounter.

The golf club on the living room floor was an indication that Phoebe had taken some preventative steps of her own. The bloody hunk of two by four the killer dropped while trying to flee from Jane had almost stopped her heart. But after doing a quick survey of the room, she understood the lack of any blood pools or spatter meant the blood on the piece of wood could not be Phoebe's. Shortly thereafter, they had found officer Silva dead on the ground next to his vehicle.

Jane came into the room and sat on the bed next to her. She wrapped her arm around Maura's shoulder and pulled her close. She felt soft lips upon her forehead and then a gentle whisper.

"We'll find her Maur-, I promise we'll find her. "

Sigh.

Maura felt a tiny surge of anger in the pit of her stomach and her body tensed under Jane's comforting arm. She knew it wasn't Jane's fault but a part of her was looking for someone to blame. If they hadn't installed that stupid Vibra Block in Phoebe's room... maybe Phoebe would have found her way upstairs instead of fleeing through the front door. Maybe she would have had more time if her senses hadn't been muffled. And, Maura thought... she wouldn't have altered Phoebe's room if Jane had not been so uncomfortable...

...but then she turned the blame unto herself. If she had not been in such a rush to jump in bed with Jane... they wouldn't have had that worry. She was the one who wanted everything. She had wanted Jane and made that very clear. And she had wanted Phoebe to stay in her home. For herself, because she had been so lonely and the girl had filled a need. Jane had filled a need. She pushed to make things happen as she wanted them... so she could have them both. And now, Phoebe was in danger. Phoebe could be lying dead or injured somewhere and it was all her fault.

Hot tears were streaming down her cheeks again, her shoulders were heaving as she tried to stifle the overwhelming sadness that threatened to consume her. Jane pulled her fully into her arms and begged her to let go.

"Maura sweetie... let it out now...I've got you Maur-... don't hold back... go ahead and cry Maura..."

And finally she did. Sobbing onto Jane's shoulder she allowed herself to grieve in Phoebe's room. Gasping and mumbling that it was all her fault and praying to God. A God she didn't believe in to please, please, please... let that precious child be safely hidden somewhere.

Jane's cell phone started to ring bringing Maura out of the depths into the present moment. She felt lighter for having cried. Not better but she knew the burden wasn't only hers to carry. Jane was hurting just as much as she and together they would make things come out alright. She had to believe that.

Sniffle. "Jane... shouldn't you answer your phone? It could be Frost or Korsak with an update."

Jane hugged Maura more tightly before releasing one of her arms to pull her cell phone out of her pocket and glanced at the number of the caller.

"Oh Christ, it's my mother. I can't deal with her right now."

"No Jane." Maura grabbed her wrist and shook it, " Answer it honey... she'll just keep calling until you do. I don't want the important calls getting blocked because you are ignoring hers. Just tell her you'll call her back."

Jane nodded at her girlfriend, rolled her eyes and flipped the phone open.

"Ma...I can't talk right now I'm on a real important case and can't tie my cell pho-..."

"I got Phoebe stayin' with me Janie."

Angela cut her off because she knew Janie was going to dump that standard explanation into the phone and say, 'I'll call ya back' and then hang up on her. And she never would call back so Angela just spilled the beans before Janie could hang up.

And then there was total silence over the miles of cellular telephone space that Angela envisioned. Janie's perplexity was being transmitted through the tiny waves of molecules...just as sure as her voice would be if she was sayin' anything at all.

Phoebe was tucked into Janie's old bedroom already. That poor kid was beat and hadn't gotten a lick of sleep the night before. She'd eaten a good dinner and then asked if she could go to bed. Just like that. So straight forward and honest and really a pleasure to have around. She even went back out to the garage and helped Frank sort through his pipes. That couldn'ta been too exciting for her but at dinner time she and Frank were carryin' on as though they had a treasure trove of golden eggs or somthin'.

Go figure... oh Janie stopped being stunned outta her socks and was yellin' somethin' back at her. She needed to stop gatherin' wool and listen for a second.

"What honey?"

"Ma... ma... Christ ma... did you just say you have Phoebe with you?"

"Hrumph...no need to swear at me Janie. I was headed over to Maura's with some breakfast pie this mornin' and saw this kid sneakin' outta the bushes. You know that house that's got the big Oak tr..-"

"MA!..Christ, just tell me that you have Phoebe...please tell me she's okay?"

And Angela heard the tension and fear in Janie's voice and decided she didn't need to give her all the details just now.

"Shhsssh sweetie, yes the girl is fine. I found her and brought her home. She was runnin' cuz she was terrified that monster was gonna hurt you and Maura."

"Thank God Ma... thank God. Can I come and get her?"

Maura was pulling on Jane's arm and wanting the phone. Her hazel eyes were filled with joy and hope at the part of the conversation she could decipher but she wanted to talk to Angela herself. Finally, she just ripped the phone away from Jane.

"Angela?"

"Oh... Maura honey. You don't need to worry but you need to know that Phoebe doesn't know I'm Janie's Ma. She's so scared that guy is gonna hurt you two she thinks it's best to stay away altogether. I thought if she knew I was Janie's Ma she would run from me too. I think it's best if ya let her stay with me for a couple days. Safer for her too, I think...until ya catch that asshole."

"But we've got her clothes and things here Angela, all she has is that sweatshirt and jeans. How did you find her Ange..-"

"Don't worry honey, I'm gonna take her shoppin' tomorrow and get her some stuff. She gets along fine with Frank Sr. too... oh and tell Janie to tell Frankie not to come over for a couple days. Phoebe knows him too. Now Maura honey can I talk to Janie for a second? I got somethin' I wanna tell her sweetie.

"Okay,... and Angela... thank you... thank you so much..."

Maura handed the phone back to Jane and lay back on Phoebe's bed with a huge sigh of relief. Happy tears were flowing now and they felt so much better than the tears of sorrow.

" Thanks Ma... I can't tell you how much this means to me and Mau- "

" I know Janie now listen... Phoebe told me the friends she was stayin' with was a nice lesbian couple. She said they was fightin' when she met them but they worked their problems out when she was there and they were really gettin' happy.

That's what she told me Janie. So... I want you to know that I am so glad that you finally had the guts to tell Maura how you really feel... and that me and your Pop are both so happy for you girls. You have our blessing of course, and we want you and Maura to come over for Sunday dinner - if ya catch this guy before then... Okay honey?"

And then the line went silent again. Angela pictured more of Janie's perplexity crawlin' along those miles of cellular molecules or whatever they were... Janie's utter confusion creepin' along the invisible wavelengths in super slow motion. She had to stifle a chortle at the thought...

"...sigh...okay Ma..."

"Good honey... I'll call ya tomorrow to let ya know how we're all doin.'"

Click.

Sigh.

Harold

Harold was relieved he had the foresight to take a practice weapon with him. Had he spoiled his fourth piece of ash on an unintended sacrifice he would need to start the cycle anew. That unfortunate police officer had to be "brought home" and he felt a little strange for having done so. But, Harold told himself... he had been protecting that girl... that freak of nature so he was just as guilty in his sin.

Harold had no compunction about the need to bring the child Home to God. She was just as much an abomination as his chosen were. He ran his hands over the fourth piece of timber reverently. Caressing the last piece of two by four. It was precisely three feet in length. Just as the other three. And now, he had only one more sacrifice to choose.

The years of holding back had taken their toll on Harold. Now that he had finally found the courage to follow through on this assignment he was almost sad that it would soon be over.

The doctors had been wrong about him. He felt a smug sense of confidence at his success in deceiving them. He had slowly weaned himself off of the medication. His thoughts were clearer now. And his instructions were clear now too. He had energy and power. Power from God above. The doctors had betrayed him and so had his parents. All those years of living in a veiled stupor... but they hadn't been able to completely bury him in witless conformity.

He had practiced his art. He had honed his ability to stalk his prey. He had become a competent member of the community. His job provided him the means he needed to blend in. His trust fund the extra means to further his plan. And now, almost completely free from years of supervising authorities he had grabbed his opportunity.

Tomorrow he would finish this cycle. After, he would go back on the medication so he could pass his final drug test... and then he would be free. Free to pursue his mission without constraint.

His storage facility was well ordered. Each of his tools were numbered and belonged in a specific location within the shop. He had Four Task Sections. The number Four was Holy and Divine. Task Section One was for his drafting and planning. Task Section Two was for his application of tools and weapon making. Task Section Three was for practice with his weapon. And Task Section Four was for the preparation and presentation of his trophies.

Harold looked upon his first trophy and found himself remembering the cause of all his trouble. This time it was different, however, the memory did not disturb him...it excited him.

They had just finished baseball practice and coach asked him to put the equipment away. "Don't forget the bases Harold." Coach had hollered and then climbed into his jeep and drove off. Sighing heavily Harold ran back onto the diamond to collect the bases. Donny Benson was waiting for him when he got back to the equipment shed.

"I'll help you Harold," he'd said with a grin that was sweet and scary at the same time.

Harold didn't really understand why but Donny made him nervous. A funny kind of nervous with squigglies in his stomach. He dreamt about Donny sometimes - late at night and got himself off just thinking about the handsome pitcher. He was the best player on the team. An all star pitcher with the best batting average in the league, which was unheard of. Everybody knew that pitcher's were crummy batters. But not Donny.

"That's okay Donny I'm done already... I just have to put the bases away."

But Donny followed him into the shed anyway and stood there watching Harold while he placed the bases on the back shelf. He closed the door to the shed and said,

"Maybe you can help me Harold. I need some help to get ready for tomorrow's game and Jessica is outta town right now... she always blows me before a game Harold. That's my good luck ya know. I can't pitch worth a damn unless I get a blow job Harold."

The whole time that Donny was talking he was unbuttoning his practice pants and pulling out his "member."

"Whaddaya say Harold?... I think ya can help me." And Harold did. He wanted to. He realized in that very moment how much he really wanted to help Donny Benson.

When it was all over Donny buttoned up his pants and snickered.

"I knew you were a faggot Harold. Just so ya know, I ain't. Everyone knows that faggots love to blow a guy. I don't mind you replacing Jessica once in awhile but you tell anyone and I'll beat you bloody. No one would believe ya anyway." And then Donny laughed at him and pulled the door to the shed open.

Harold was still on his knees where Donny had forced him down onto the dirt floor. And suddenly a rage of fury swamped him like a giant wave. He grabbed a wooden bat from one of the open bags and chased after Donny.

When it was over his hands were full of blood and Donny was dead on the ground. Unrecognizable. Harold had hit him so many times the bat had cracked in two and some of the splinters were ground into the palms of his hands.

He dropped the broken bat and ran home. He showered and tossed his bloody practice uniform into the waste basket in his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and methodically pulled the splinters out of his hands. One by one, with tiny tweezers he placed them in an envelope for safe keeping. After some careful thought he walked over to his bookshelf and found his bible. He placed the envelope between the pages of the scripture he most often read.

The police came to his house that evening; he was just fourteen years old. His parents hired a lawyer and got a Doctor who declared him Schizophrenic and his records had been sealed. Years later, he was released from juvenile detention when he turned eighteen. And... so long as he took his medication he was free to start anew.

Harold gazed upon the little ornate display case. Seven bloody splinters from that bat were pressed between two pieces of glass and framed with polished Mahogany - etched with a pattern of his own design. He'd laid the splinters out in quarter inch spaces. The pattern was arched like a fan. Attached to the back of the little frame was a tiny light.

Harold switched the light on. He placed this first, this most revered of his trophies back into the center of his display table. He flipped the lights on all the little cases. He needed just one more for his collection to be complete. He strode over to the light switch of his shop and turned it off. Smiling, he sat back upon the stool to admire his presentation in the dark. One in the center, one to the right, one up above, and one to the left; each lit up, glowing in the dark and brightening his sanctuary. One more to go and he would be finished. For now. For this month. He could start all over again next month.

But not before he got that girl. Phoebe. He would "Bring her home to God" like these others. Abominations.

Maura

Back at the morgue from the latest scene and the third victim; Maura studied the pieces of wood more carefully. Three pieces were identical. The fourth was different. The fourth piece had come from the crime scene at her home and had come from a pine timber. The other three had come from a timber of white ash. Initially she had missed the importance of the chafing near the base - she'd noticed it of course but had not focused on its significance. Those rough abraided edges had been intentionally inflicted.

The killer would have multiple splinters from this grip and the force applied while striking something. He had intentionally altered the wood in each section where he placed his grip. He wanted to have splinters? She silently asked herself. Why? The palms of his hands would have scarring from such use - on both sides where his clasp would hold on tight. She picked up her phone to call Jane.

Now that she and Jane knew that Phoebe was safe with Angela they were very focused and determined to catch this bastard. Maura didn't even bother to filter her language when she thought about the creep who had turned their lives upside down.

They had come into work early only to be called to another scene. The park was lovely in the early morning. The sunrise was a glowing red orb declaring sailors warning but beautiful all the same. The birds were tweeting and squirrels scurried along the branches chittering their annoyance at being disturbed. The trees and scrub were thick along the path until they reached a tiny oval clearing.

And there it was; a crumpled mound, twisted from a sudden awkward fall. Bathed in the eerie red glow of a day forewarned with storm. Looking like a prop from a second rate horror film - the body of a third victim had been found. The body of Paul. The sweet young man from Moon Fabrication.

To Be Continued

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