Friday, March 21, 2008; 4:30 PM PST
Shock. It was really the only excuse for his behavior. He had been involved in 'surveillance' since he was fifteen years old. Only twice had he erred; the first error was not his own, the second inexcusable. When you depend on others, as he had six years ago, you can expect failures; when you work on your own, though, then you expect perfection. He had gotten too close. He had gotten too curious.
And now he was furious; furious with himself; furious with her; furious with the tall buffoon that was glued to her side.
Jacob had driven his pre-planned evasion route yesterday for an hour, wiped the steering wheel, gear shift and door handle down, ditched his sweatshirt in a nearby dumpster, then hopped on the bus at the next stop. Thank goodness for prepaid bus passes. And the bus was far from empty – absolutely perfect.
The problem, of course, was that it should never have been necessary. He should have controlled himself.
But they knew about Miami! Blast! How did they possibly connect me to my past so quickly? It had to be Mr. Tall's fault. CSI girl Jess had been walking herself in circles for five weeks until meeting up with that creep two days ago.
The dingy motel window reflected back the frustration in his eyes. Two days ago, he could watch his mark with ease, move about without worry. Today, he watched and re-watched the news footage from the hostage scene he had created in Point Loma. The SDPD has been very quick in their release of his description, frustrating him further. The appearance of his photograph, courtesy of the Department of Motor Vehicles, had led him to the convenience store on the corner for shaving cream and a razor.
He ran a hand over his now bald head as he considered the most interesting aspect of the news videos – the injury of Ms. Mitchell. It was not even my fault. How ironic. But how do I get to her now? He called several hospitals before finding the CSI, but had not actually let himself be connected to her room. That is not appropriate yet, is it? I just do not know. I need to think.
A moment, then two passed. Throwing caution to the wind, Jacob picked up the motel phone. It was unlikely that they had put a trace on her hospital room phone.
'Scripps Memorial Hospital. Extension please.'
'Ms. Jessica Mitchell's room please.'
'One moment, sir, I am connecting you now.'
The phone rang once, twice and in the middle of the third ring, he heard a male voice.
'This is Jess' room. Agent Dewey speaking.'
They have her in protective custody? Oh, of course they do, I have not been captured. 'This is a friend of hers. I was hoping to stop by or send her flowers, if she is unable to speak right now. Can she talk with me?'
'Actually, Jess is sleeping currently, but if you have your gift sent to the fifth floor, it will be delivered to her.'
'Agent, can I possibly have her room number just in case I am able to stop by?'
'No, that information is not being released. I am sorry but I did not catch your name. Could I please have it so that I can pass your well wishes along to Jess?'
Jacob paused, the silence oppressive in the middle of the men's conversation. It was Dewey who broke the silence.
'How dare you, you sick dog? If you come anywhere near her again, I will personally see to it that…' The dial tone broke off the statement of hatred.
Charles shook as he slowly hung up the phone. That took balls; calling the hospital room of the woman you have been stalking was not something that most men could gather the courage to do. Of course, most Federal agents would have been more cautious answering the phone with the knowledge that there was a stalker, robber and murderer on the loose.
As Jess began to stir after her nap, he shook himself purposefully. Once again he was going to have to explain what had happened, but before stepping into the den of the lioness again, he was going to call in back up.
Stepping into the hallway, he dialed Jess' Lt.'s cell phone number.
'Is she awake again, Agent?' Charles liked that the man was all business.
'I believe that she is about to, sir, but please do not worry. I can handle explaining the situation to her. I never would have guessed that she would react so strongly to such a small amount of sedative; probably something that should be added to her personnel file. But that situation is not the reason for my call, sir.'
'Talk to me.'
'Evans called the hospital room. I failed to ask for a name before revealing Jess' floor number. I am sorry, sir. This is my fault.' Charles hung his head. For the second time in just over one day, he had dropped the ball on protecting Jessica Mitchell.
'No point in casting blame now, kid. I need you to stick with Jess until I can get a protection detail released to her. I will also coordinate with the floor nurse to have her moved to another floor. Scripps is the best place for her right now, so changing hospitals is not an option in my mind. I have known Dr. Cameron for years and he is the best.'
The Homeland Security agent chuckled. 'Sir, you know that I will not leave her until this is over. It is my guess that we have neither seen nor heard the last of Jacob Evans until he is behind bars.'
'Yes, Charles, yes. Take care of her for us, now, okay?'
'Absolutely.' Now for the hard part, the part where he told Jess that they had sedated her earlier that morning.