Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter - especially after having such a long break from the story being updated. Anyway, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, I think it lacks humour - but I suppose what's happened needs to be given some down time.
If this chapter was a one shot, I probably would rate it a mild M, to be on the safe side, so please don't be offended and say I didn't give warning.
Chapter 14
Warm as the Night in My Dreams
The sky was never completely black in New York City. The haze from the lights and the clouds of pollutants created a bubble of unnatural glow, rendering the sky a deep blue instead of the black that seemed more conducive to sleep. Mac wandered around the park, his hands in pockets, content with his own company. Even at night there were people in the park; some going home from a night out or a night shift; others finding night time was their day, given the jobs they had and using their time off to jog or run or simply relax. Most people were in pairs or more, knowing that night's shroud was the perfect cover for crime.
Mac paused at the edge of the lake, watching boats bob up and down on the relatively calm waters. The sight was calming and he knew he needed some form of relaxant. It was rare for him to find peace, although it was becoming less rare recently. However, the general toll of the day that had passed had created a typhoon of thoughts that needed to be allowed to settle, and then to weave their way into something comprehensible. He thought of Sam and how disconcerted he had seemed during the post-mortems of Paul and Diane Murphy. Mac felt he should've realised then that not all was as it appeared. Now it was too late. The key they could have had to the case had gone, and with it the life of a good man, because that was what Sam had been, a good man, whatever strangeness he had become involved in.
He turned his back to the water and looked down the hedged pathway, hearing the sound of heels tapping on the rough surface. There was only one set of footfalls, and they were footfalls he recognised, hearing the determination in them, the tempo swift and purposeful.
"Stella, what are you doing here?" he said, a laugh in his voice.
"You didn't have dinner," she handed him a Chinese take out box from a brown paper bag and took out another for herself.
"How did you know I'd be here?" he said, opening up the box. The smell of food made him feel hungry and he realised he hadn't eaten for more than twelve hours.
"I'm a detective, Mac. And you have certain routines," she rested against a fence and looked out onto the water, taking in the same images he had. He smiled, resisting the urge to reprimand her for walking in the park so late at night alone.
"Any thoughts on the case?" he said, glancing at her as she ate.
Stella looked thoughtful. "Many, but none of them lead anywhere. We've got several people to track down, and whatever officers we can spare are on that. Nothing is giving us a straight answer. There's very little evidence we can use from any of the bodies," she sighed. "Sid's got another pathologist in to do Sam's PM tomorrow morning."
"I think we know who did it," Mac said. "Rachael McKinsey. I've had an APB put out for her, but I don't think she's going to turn up that easy." Stella nodded in agreement, scooping more noodles up to her mouth. "You should go home and get some rest."
"So should you," she said, her staring landing on him. "You need to do something to switch off, Mac, even you can't go forever without sleep. Give that brain of yours a chance to process without you analysing."
He gave a wry grin, knowing she was right. "The one thing that puzzles me is why? Why has it suddenly gone to murder? There are thousands of cults, and most of them live very peacefully with their own beliefs without killing."
"I think the answer to that is in the collection of personalities you have: David Rostow we know is unstable, but physically harmless, although he obviously has the charisma and presence to captivate people; Rachael McKinsey – she appears to be the one doing the killing," Stella said.
"So we have a female serial killer on our hands," Mac said between mouthfuls. "But what was the trigger? Why start killing now?"
"Maybe she's getting rid of those people who present a threat to her status quo. The motive behind Sam's murder is clear – he could quite easily have talked about what was going on. It seems obvious that it was Sam who brought Brian Goddard's body to the precinct – although he must have had some help in lifting him. Sid confirmed that Sam had been on an hour's break before the body was discovered," Mac stopped speaking and concentrated on the box of food, still feeling hungry.
"Then there's another weak link somewhere," Stella said. "One that Rachael obviously doesn't know about. I think we can say why Goddard and Raimo were both murdered – they knew who had been taken in and were going to intervene; maybe get in touch with parents and spouses, and maybe ruin Paul Murphy in the process."
"I think that's likely. I imagine Paul Murphy was involved on the periphery – maybe attracting recruits and benefitting from the money. I would wager half my salary on the money trail leading us to a very hefty sum in some off shore account that Murphy was dipping into," Mac said, crushing the food carton with his hand.
"Flack's got one of his old bank team buddies looking into it, but it's going to take days, possibly weeks. Lindsay's been asked to contact all parents and spouses of those on the list and request that they don't make any more payments," Stella said.
"You think that's wise? That may set Rachael off on a bigger killing spree. She may blame the victims," Mac said, turning side on to the lake. The clouded light of the moon caught Stella's face, making her seem almost ethereal.
"It's likely to be several days before they notice what's happened – if the families agree to stop the money. Hopefully we'll have her in custody by then," she yawned and looked a little disgustedly at her now empty food carton. "I'm still hungry – you up for an early breakfast?"
Mac nodded. "This one's on me."
-&-
Flack's apartment was tidy but comfortable, and Jess knew it well enough to be able to sit down without being offered a chair, and could find her way around the kitchen to make coffee. He'd spent more time at her place though, that being more convenient for the precinct, and the bars he liked to patronage. Danny had ended up spending a lot of time there too – she'd realised pretty early on if she was going to be friends with Don, then Danny would always be somewhere nearby. Which was no bad thing – she liked him – although sometimes he could be a little screwed up. She rubbed her eyes, finding them dry, and almost collapsed onto the sofa, pulling off her boots and swinging her legs up. Don had made his way over to the window and was looking out onto the street, peering into the night's movements.
She could see the tension in his shoulders, and his lack of conversation told her that not all was well with him. She wondered if it was the case or them. The line that had been very carefully drawn by them had now been crossed, and it was going to be very difficult to simply go back to being buddies who went for a drink after their shift. She wasn't regretting it, any of it, except possibly the lack of time they'd had with just them, without work getting in the way even for an evening.
"What's the matter?" she said, her voice strong. The silence hung there briefly, before he turned around and looked at her. His tie was dishevelled and he had a six o'clock shadow. The look in his eyes worried her, and she wondered what his thoughts had been on the drive back to his.
"I've been thinking about this all day," he said and she braced herself for bad news. "Coming back here with you, making dinner with you, taking you to bed." He paused, and she saw a different look cover his face, her fears melting. There was no bad news, just a difficulty in finding words. "We should have been off shift hours ago and done all those things."
"It's our job, Don – at least we understand why we can't, we don't have to explain it to someone else who won't get it," she said, feeling his frustration.
He nodded. "I know. But, just for once, I'd like to pretend that our jobs weren't going to stop us from doing something normal." He moved from the window and sat down next to her, keeping a little difference between them on the couch that had been chosen because it was bigger enough to get several people on it during certain sporting occasions.
"It's not going to happen," she said, an ironic laugh in her voice.
He nodded, looking down at the floor before sighing and transferring his gaze to her. "We've been playing games for months, Jess. If we didn't work together – who knows – we… God knows where we would have been by now."
She slid off the couch and stepped closer to him. "Nobody said it was going to be perfect, Don," she said. She straddled him, her fingers unknotting his tie, then the buttons of his shirt, wanting to distract him from thoughts that there were no answers to, no solutions except to carry on how they were for the moment. His blue eyes blazed as he caught her hands. He would not let her dominate him and that she liked; he was her equal, a partner in more ways than one.
"It's too late for dinner," she said. "But there's nothing stopping you from taking me to bed."
Flack stood up, her legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth meeting hers in a fierce, heated kiss. He was frustrated with the situation and it showed in his touch, in his force. She met it with a passion of her own as he backed into his bedroom door to open in and put her down onto his bed, leaning over her, the pillows from the night before discarded on the floor still.
Jess' fingers worked open his buttons, exposing his chest, running her hands over his skin, across his scars. His mouth caught hers again, pinning her down against the mattress and she felt him unzip her jeans, his hands expert. She lifted her hips to help him slide them off, along with her panties, then moved her own hands to his belt, wanting to match her almost nakedness with his.
Their kisses softened, as if Flack was holding back to prolong what was going to happen, wanting to take some time while it was available. He fumbled with her bra strap and shifted back while she undid it herself, a redness tingeing his cheeks and a soft laugh emerging. She grinned back wickedly; knowing that after, she would remind him of it, but now wasn't the time for banter.
A bell chimed somewhere, echoing into the room. Three in the morning.
"We have to be at the station in five hours," he said quietly as he looked at her, making no attempt to be discreet as his eyes devoured the sight of her. Her hands caressed slowly, touching him in the places she had already learnt were sensitive, remembering what she had already read from his body.
"We don't need sleep," she said, as his mouth fell to her neck and began to travel down, the urgency from earlier returning. All thoughts of the day, of the case, of murder, disappeared, his touch erasing them, and Jess felt herself dissolve into him.
The apartment was silent, as if listening to them becoming lovers again, and she became lost in a cacophony of touch. Nothing else mattered except them.
And then she heard the buzzer and a voice break the apartment's stillness, interrupting. It was Danny.
-&-
Jennifer Dunn brushed Jackie's hair from the roots to the ends, counting the strokes in a soft voice, as her mother used to.
"You know Paul's dead?" Jackie said, her voice no more than a whisper.
Jennifer nodded as Jackie turned her head and looked at her. "What do you think this means for us?"
"I don't think it matters," Jennifer said, continuing to brush by repositioning her arm. "You have such beautiful hair. I wish mine was so dark."
Jackie smiled, reaching up and stopping Jennifer brushing with a soft grasp of her wrist. "What's David asked you to do?" her tone was sharper now, more insistent.
"He wants me to recruit," Jenn said, sitting down on the bench. "He's pleased with me – I only sleep for an hour a night now, so this is his reward."
"You know he alters the clocks? He makes us think that it's working," Jackie said.
Jennifer smiled. David had warned her that this would happen, that the other would resent how special she was. "I don't think so, Jackie," she said, then stood up and left the older woman to herself. She had more important things to do.
-&-
Flack pulled a pair of shorts on and went to answer the door, leaving Jess to scramble around for one of his t-shirts. He mentally cursed his friend and half considered not opening the door, but for Danny to appear in person at this hour of the morning, something must be seriously amiss.
"Messer," Flack said as Danny entered.
"Lindsay's missing," was the greeting. Danny's face was pained, his eyes red with tiredness behind his glasses, contacts long since disposed of.
"You sure she'd not just avoiding you?" Flack said as Angell emerged from his bedroom. She went immediately to the coffee maker, saying nothing.
"I've tried everywhere. The lab, the morgue, her apartment, that café round the corner where she likes the cocoa… She's not even got her cell with her. I rang it from outside her apartment and I could hear it ringing. She never leaves it at home, Flack. I'm telling you – something's happened," Danny said, now pacing the room.
"Have you contacted Mac?" Flack said, refusing to jump on Danny's bandwagon of drama.
Danny shook his head. "I wondered if you or Angell had any idea of where she could be? I didn't want to go bugging Mac right away."
"I would have checked the same places you have," Flack said. "You been in her apartment to check – she could've been sleeping heavy or something."
"Lindsay doesn't sleep heavy," Danny said, the finality in his tone telling Flack that wasn't an option. "She was still beating herself up over what happened to Moore."
Flack became aware of Jess moving closer to him, and aware of the length of leg she was showing from where his t-shirt ended.
"I think we need to head over to her apartment," Jess said. "And contact Stella. She has a key – it'll save getting the super involved."
Danny nodded, his head clearly reeling with ideas about what could have happened. "Thanks – I'm sorry to interrupt you like this…" If it had been a normal situation a few insinuations would have followed, but none came. "I'll see you over there."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the apartment in a different silence than before.
"I told you we didn't need sleep," Jess said, walking the three paces over to Flack.
"C'mere," he said, pulling her into him. He was tired, mentally exhausted and beginning to wonder when all this would end and he could take two consecutive days off. "You look far better in that than I do." He pulled at the t-shirt. She smiled, then broke away to find her phone and call Stella.
Please review - even if you don't have an account or aren't logged in you can still review and they are inspirational to writing!! Hopefully another chapter tomorrow, since I'm off work with tonsilitis at present and have been told to rest!