Ahh! I feel like I'm falling way behind! Technically, I'm still a week ahead of schedule...barely.
Okay, calm down, Darkwolf.
Thank you to my new followers and favorites. Really, you don't know how much fun it is to find out who you are and where you're from. I tell my roommate that I have a new follower from Canada or Germany or a fellow American just so I can brag about you guys. (And me too, sort of...) Don't worry; she's a more accomplished fanfiction writer, so she probably understands this phase. I hope.
Thanks to my beta, KayValo87, for making sure that I made logical sense in this chapter. It's kind of her fault that I fell behind because she had me rewrite a bit before posting this.
Dr. Henry Morgan arrived at work only to learn that Detective Martinez had been involved in a shooting earlier that morning. This news was imparted to him by a frantic Lucas who had received no more information than that.
"Have you heard anything?" the younger medical examiner demanded, dropping his tools when Henry opened the door of the morgue. "They said that Martinez was attacked and I haven't heard anything else. They won't say what hospital, or if she's in a hospital. There hasn't been anyone by with a collection box. I'm pretty sure she's not dead because they would have brought her here, but…"
"Lucas, breathe!"
Henry watched his assistant suck in a deep lungful of air and open his mouth to start asking questions again. But before either man could say anything, Detective Mike Hanson tapped Henry on the shoulder.
"Lieutenant Reece wants us in her office. Now."
"How is Detective Martinez?" The question was weighing on Henry's mind and contributed to his motive for asking it. But he also had a feeling that Lucas wouldn't be able focus on work if he was still wondering about Jo. Better to get as much information up front as possible.
"Doc, this is Jo. She's fine. Mad as hell, but fine. She's with Reece."
Henry saw his young assistant relax out of the corner of his eye as he allowed himself a sigh of relief. He would not be losing another friend today, not if he could help it.
He followed Hanson to the elevator and they rode it up to Homicide. There was a surplus of people on the floor, and the immortal was certain that the many people clad in moderately expensive suits belonged to the FBI. They loitered in the halls, glancing every so often at the lieutenant's office door, which remained firmly closed.
They're not allowed in. Jo must have told Lieutenant Reece about my theory, and one of them has confirmed it.
Of course Reece didn't suspect either he or Hanson of informing anyone who might wish Miss Keegan harm. Jo was above suspicion because she was nearly killed as well. Most damning for the members of the FBI that lingered among the desks of homicide detectives was that the lieutenant would not have shared Meredith's continued existence and location with the whole department; she would keep it among the people actually working the case—Jo, Hanson, Henry, and the FBI.
The door of the office opened as Henry and Detective Hanson drew closer and Lieutenant Reece ushered them inside.
"Henry, Jo was telling me that you thought there might be a mole in the investigation." Lieutenant Joanna Reece was a lot of things, but she was not someone who would avoid the heart of the matter.
"Yes."
"So talk. How did you know?"
Henry shifted uncomfortably. "Someone called me. I don't know his real name; I only know him as Adam, and he's not an acquaintance I want to keep."
It was the truth, at the very least. He wondered if anyone would put together this unwanted caller with the stalker he told them about before Christmas. He couldn't remember if he had actually mentioned that his stalker went by the name of Adam.
No, I don't think so. I just said that he thought he was immortal. The greatest problem is that he is immortal, and he's also a master manipulator.
"Go on." The lieutenant betrayed no emotion—just that neutral expression that left everyone with the feeling that she was mildly disappointed in them.
"He mentioned the SUV we pulled out of the river. He made a point to indicate that he knew that Miss Keegan was not in the vehicle."
Detective Martinez was sitting in the corner with Meredith, who was tucked further in the corner behind filing cabinet and clad in a bullet proof vest that was a little too large for her. She flinched and turned away from the conversation. The death of her protectors was possibly still a little raw for her. Or she didn't want to mention that she might have been in the vehicle when it went under along with the marshals.
"He even knew that she was protected by federal marshals," Henry offered. "And that I was working that particular case, though that is hardly surprising given the attention he seems wont to give me."
The lieutenant sat down at her desk. "This is serious. We can't go accusing the FBI without proof of a mole, and the attack this morning doesn't count as proof. There are too many variables. You, Henry, knew about Miss Keegan's location last night, as did your roommate, I presume?"
"Actually, Abe knew where she was two days ago, though he didn't know exactly who she was."
"It's still enough to call any suspicions of corruption into question. No, we need something that stays between us, something we can use to prove that the leak is on their end."
Henry let the actual police take care of planning the trap, deciding instead to sit in the corner with Meredith.
"How are you holding up?" He asked, reading the terror in every line of her body.
She shrugged in the over-large Kevlar vest, pulling it around her like a security blanket. "I just want to get it all over with," she replied after a moment. "I thought I would just need to testify, and then I could start over again."
"What were you doing before all this happened?"
"Saving up so I could go to an art school. Taking all the extra shifts I could at work and shunting all the tips into my savings account. Then Nico—"
Henry placed a hand on her shoulder, pretending not to notice that she flinched under his touch. "It's alright if you can't talk about it."
The young woman seemed caught between leaning into the comfort he was offering and remaining closed off because it was safer for her that way.
The immortal allowed the touch of a smile to reach his face as he remembered saying the same thing to Detective Martinez shortly after they first met. "I'm the least judgmental person you'll ever meet."
Meredith started shaking, and Henry thought he had made her cry. The shaking devolved into a series of hysterical squeaks, but it wasn't until the unstoppable giggles that the medical examiner realized that Meredith was laughing.
"Does that line actually work?"
"Sorry?"
"I'm not friends with any pickup artists or anything, but I can't actually see that line working in any situation."
Henry frowned. "It's not supposed to be a pickup line."
"It sounds like one."
"It certainly cheered you up," Henry observed, as the young woman brushed the hair out of her face.
Meredith sat up straighter, still hiding behind the filing cabinet but finally relaxing a little more.
"Seriously, though. I will listen to anything you want to tell me. And I promise to reserve judgment."
Henry wanted the young woman to open up about her experience in the river. If she hadn't died, then there was something there—something unusual that had happened to spare her life. If she had died, then she and Henry had much more in common than either of them fully realized and understood.
"I just want things to go back to normal." She ran her fingers through her slightly tangled hair. "I want to go to school like I planned, bankrupt myself on student loans, survive off Top Ramen and charity. I want to be able to go to the library and not worry about someone around the corner who may or may not be trying to kill me. I want to have a job and earn enough money to pay back the people who have helped me. I want to sit for hours and talk to someone about existentialism and the meaning of life." She stopped and looked up, locking eyes with Henry. "I want to be able to live again."
"Where did you want to go to school?" Henry asked, not wanting to sabotage the chances of her opening up a little more by saying the wrong thing.
"Pratt Institute. I used to live a few streets away and I'd go to all their art exhibits, drama productions, even workshops when I had the time. I wanted to major in Fine Arts, with an emphasis on ceramics. Looks like that's not happening now."
"It still might."
"Well, maybe. But not in New York. When they say it's a small world, they mean it's a small world. And I can't count on whatever luck or incompetence is keeping me alive to keep doing that indefinitely."
That's a strange way to say that. "Have you thought about looking into schools elsewhere? On the West Coast, perhaps?"
"I've thought about it. I just haven't had a whole lot of time to actually do it yet."
"I hear that Portland, Oregon is becoming a center of art and culture…"
"And hipsters and weirdness." A smile finally made it to the corners of Meredith's mouth. "And actually that might be a nice change from the weirdness of New York. Now I just need a laptop and internet access to look up some schools."
"Perhaps I can arrange something…" Henry would have said more, but it appeared that the detectives were finishing their planning session.
"I'd like that, thank you." She said it like an afterthought, and Henry half turned back before he realized exactly what she had said.
She's an incredibly unusual woman. I hope she finds an art school to her liking.
The plan was simple, and one of the oldest ones in the book: divide and conquer. Only the two most senior agents of the ten FBI who had gotten involved with the Volkov case would be told Meredith's true location. If an attempt was made to kill the girl at one of the fake locations, there would be enough evidence to let the FBI Internal Affairs people deal with the aftermath. If another attempt was made at the real location then, more frighteningly, they would need to deal with a high ranking FBI mole.
It was Meredith who determined Henry's role in the whole affair.
"I don't want to be in the safe house with someone I don't know. If all of you are going to monitoring different locations, can Dr. Morgan stay with me?"
There was a moment of silence among the detectives. Henry could see the amused gleam in Hanson's eyes at the request.
"Quite the charmer, Doc," he whispered. "What did you two talk about in the corner?"
"There are still going to be a couple of undercover units on the house." The immortal medical examiner could tell that Jo was trying to talk Meredith out of having him stay with her. "It will be perfectly safe."
"I know that. But if I had my choice, I'd ask if Abe could stay with me." Miss Keegan crossed her arms. "Dr. Morgan is already involved in the investigation. Is there any reason why he can't stay with me in the house? He's not my type, if that's what you're worried about."
Hanson attempted, quite poorly, to stifle a laugh.
Henry knew that he would be brought into the conversation. Better sooner than later. "I can stay with her. It's really no problem."
"Why Henry?" Lieutenant Reece asked, using her straight-forwardness to her advantage. "Why do you want Dr. Morgan to stay with you?"
The young woman scratched her scalp, avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room. "No offense, but it seems like you treat me as a job first and a person second. And Henry didn't do that. He asked me about my life and what I wanted to do. I want him there because I want to feel like a person again."
There was silence for another few moments. Then everyone agreed that Henry could go with Meredith to the safe house.
Jo insisted on being the one to drive Meredith and Henry over to the secret location. The immortal decided to take the opportunity to speak with her.
"Detective Martinez, are you certain this is quite safe?" It wasn't that Henry at all doubted the ability of the detectives or the precautions they were taking in this. His mind was more caught on the idea that, if he did die, it would be rather difficult to explain why he disappeared and reappeared alive shortly after.
"Safe? Henry, you've walked in front of moving cars before to stop people from getting away and you're worried about safety now?" Jo glanced into the backseat at Meredith, who was still wrapped in her Kevlar vest. "You'll be fine. Both of you. We have several precautions in place to ensure your safety. Don't worry."
I wish I could be as certain as you, Detective.
The safe house was buried in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. There was nothing truly special about it. The immortal could tell that it was well tended from the colorful flowers spilling over the edges of the window boxes.
"How quaint. Do all police safe houses look like this? If so, I must stay in more of them." Henry was only half joking—it was a very nice house in a quiet neighborhood.
"Well, you better stay in this one for now." In a voice low enough to ensure that Meredith would not overhear them, the detective whispered, "Be careful. And take care of her. Put all that hidden recklessness to work for once."
"Don't worry," Henry assured her as he closed the door of the house. "I'm sure we'll be fine."
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