Author's note: thank you for all the reviews, I really appreciate them.
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Obedient Quietness
The bottle had warmed up, drops of water sliding on its surface before being absorbed by the coffee table or dying against her own hand whenever she grabbed it to take a sip. The beer in itself was fresh enough though. Pleasant.
"Here's your sandwich."
The comment pierced through the fog floating over her brain – wrapped her up – and took her back to reality as Jane put down a plate by the series of photos spread over the small surface of the table. With a quiet nod Maura thanked her but didn't touch the food. She wasn't hungry. Not yet. Her priorities lay somewhere else between a series of religious symbols and sociological essays about the Antiquity.
"Several civilizations used to think that a person's soul could get reflected through his or her eyes and many funereal rituals are described following such belief. The defunct was buried without his eyes to make sure that the soul would actually remain on Earth, with his or her family; people who were still alive. Yet such tradition can be found in South America just like in Egypt or Greece and none of them – apparently – are related one way or another to the symbol engraved in the victims' forehead."
Jane nodded. As much as she was officially not working on the case anymore, Frost and Korsak hadn't hesitated the slightest bit to share with her the last pieces of information they had gathered from a few anthropologists but none of them had recognized the symbol as specifically belonging to one civilization past or present.
"So he keeps the eyes for spiritual reasons. Fine. But the whole religion thing didn't lead anywhere so far and..."
A knock on the door interrupted the detective. Since the first head had been found, their attention had been dragged on this precise point except their investigation hadn't led to the mere person nor cult of any sort. Nothing at all. Without a word, Jane stood up – walked to the door – and opened after having checked through the peephole.
Bella Hartman entered. Punctual, surprisingly timid.
"Would you like a beer or something?"
The journalist shook her head and waited for Jane to invite her to sit down on the couch before moving and taking off her trench coat. They had talked at the Dirty Robber the evening before as the woman had revealed to Maura that Catherine Banks had received threats at some point.
Bella didn't know much about them except that the lawyer had assumed that they came from a client. A lost trial, perhaps. It wasn't the first time she had had to face such situation so she hadn't given a lot of importance to the different messages sent to her place.
"I didn't find anything. Your team had searched all over her place, anyway. She must have thrown them away. It had come up in the conversation almost by accident. Catherine wasn't fearful."
Just lonely. But Maura preferred to keep such remark for herself. It didn't belong to the moment, even less with Bella around. The journalist's feelings might not have been mutual for Catherine. A gesture of the hand swept away the woman's apologies until a perfectly manicured finger stopped on an essay that had been left wide open in the middle of the table. Maura bent over and cleared her voice.
"This is the closest symbol we have found in books except it does differ on several points and since the killer is such a perfectionist, we have very few chances that he would give into such mistake as..."
She didn't find the strength to finish her sentence. Her eyes stopped on the series of photos she and her team had taken at the morgue. The heads looked rough, ridiculous. The neon lights landing on them too violently.
If they hadn't known better, they could have mistaken them for carnival masks.
Bella grabbed one of the photos – the one of Catherine – and observed it in silence. The BPD had not transmitted them to the media. It was the first time the journalist could actually see what the city now didn't stop talking about. An uncomfortable silence fell over Jane's apartment.
The deal had been rather implicit, like some sort of obedient quietness over a secret agreement.
They trusted Bella and Bella trusted them. The mere leak in the press anyway and they would know it came from her. But something told them that she wouldn't. Because of Anactoria, because of Catherine Banks. Because of the silence over her private life. The game was too big to not respect the rules.
"Why have you been dismissed from the case?"
The journalist's voice broke yet an incredible strength seemed to envelop her attitude and she calmly looked up at Jane. The brunette had sat by Maura and was now playing nervously with the hem of her shirt. She shrugged at the question, looked aside.
"Cavanaugh assumed that it was getting too personal. As we told you yesterday, he knows for Maura's threats and... And for us as well. I mean I guess... To an extent. I lost my nerves on a crime scene, it's not what a cop is supposed to do; even less a detective. But I couldn't help it. I thought Maura had..."
For the first time, they were openly talking about their couple to someone. Nothing was implicit nor untold. They didn't hide it. Jane simply wished that it had been more glorious. She was tired of this darkness surrounding the start of their brand new relationship. She was tired of everything.
"Since the second threat, an officer follows Maura everywhere when I am not around but who knows... Let's face it, it's not that hard to break into such poor protection. He isn't trained for that. Anything can happen, at any moment."
Maura squeezed her partner's knee in a gesture she hoped reassuring. It was a warm evening yet Jane had closed the windows of her apartment. Under other circumstances, she would have let the breeze come in but tonight even a locked door seemed too fragile somehow. They had four heads back. Only one was missing before the case would mark a turning point. They knew it. It was obvious.
Like some death cycle and once he would be done with his first victims, the killer would focus on his brand new list with Maura's name on top of it.
"I'm going to leave Boston. Once you close this case, I will quit and move out. Maybe go to the West Coast, I don't know yet. For years I thought that Massachusetts was a warm place but whenever I turn around all I see now is a complete darkness. Too many bad memories. Too many failed dreams."
Bella's announcement got the effect of a cold shower. Jane and Maura had never really been close to her – in spite of the scientist having spent a night with her – but she was a very influential figure in the Boston area. A brilliant journalist. Young, hardworking. With a successful career. But with that identical loneliness to the one that used to darken Catherine Banks' features. Almost imperceptible; oppressive.
"I am a California girl, anyway! I should have known that all this snow would drag me down at some point."
The lightness of her tone of voice died in the emptiness of her broken heart and as Maura looked down, she realized that Bella had already left Boston behind. She wanted to move on, to forget everything and maybe one day be able to say that life was still worth it.
That it wasn't stupid to have some dreams.
On the contrary.
In a subconscious gesture, the honey blonde leaned against Jane. The Italian reacted immediately and passed a protective arm around her waist; her hand coming to rest on the scientist's lap. It was this heat that Maura had fantasized about. These moments that barely lasted three seconds but that following a tricky game of the brain remained engraved as bright memories for the eternity.
The ringing of her cell phone pierced loudly in the night and made the three women jump in surprise. Maura grabbed the device – looked at the screen – and took the call before swallowing hard; knowing that the BPD was supposed to reach her for one case and one case only.
"Dr. Isles?"
