Korsak Is A Bad Ass
CHAPTER 36
Her chest was on fire, muscles burning with exertion as she took off down the alley. Eyes scanned the landscape before her, plotting a route, then she dared looking back. Jane was alone but not foolish enough to believe it would stay like that. Hands shaking, she tore into the envelop and two stacks of neatly compressed bills tumbled out. Surreal seconds past while she was forced to wait for her brain and body to sync up once again. Sounds that were in the distance were now increasing in volume. Jane reacted, purely on instinct and jammed the money into her jeans pocket, crumbling the envelop into a ball. She took off running again. Short on thought, the detective nimbly dodged scattered refuse and broken things, only motivated to lengthen the distance between her and her pursuers. Her thoughts balked so crazily, she almost lost her focus but the police, her police, were in pursuit. The realization was strong enough to overpower eruptive panic. To be…hunted…by her own kind was more terrifying than she had ever imagined. Awash in the flight response, she was constantly on edge, every shadow and every decision tinged with wariness.
The south side of the neighborhood park, where the brown parks and recreation vehicles were kept, was a perfect haven for vagrants. They set up house outside the chain-link fences next to the green dumpsters. On any given day, there were a handful of lost individuals surviving on the fringes of society. When a male voice yelled, "This way!", Jane made a beeline for gnarled shrubs, the branches scratching her cheek as she plunged in. From the relative safety of the shelter she watched as two uniforms skittered to a stop thirty feet in front of her. Her chest burst with the need to deeply inhale but Jane tamped down on the impulse, keeping her breathing shallow, controlled. Flashlight beams probed nearby and forced Jane to hunker down on her belly, squirming backward into the bush's labyrinth interior. Something wet soaked the lower part of her pant leg. The purulent smell of garbage and feces clogged her nose. Worries of discarded syringes, their tips bloody and befouled, invaded her mind.
The two officers conferred, their voices swaddled in distance and hushed tones. They headed toward the homeless encampment. From her vantage point she watched them searching the empty makeshift shelters. It was only a quarter to eight at night and most of the inhabitants were probably out scrounging dumpsters, roaming the streets or metro stations. Some may have gotten a bed at a city hermitage or church funded hostel. While the police officers kicked and tossed various items, aiming the flashlights around the terrain, Jane watched the sky. As near as she could tell, a helicopter hadn't been dispatched; the only things winking back at her in the dark sky were stars. Under her palms, the ground was strewn with pebbles and tiny hard projections half embedded into the dusty soil. It was enough to scrape her skin. Jane rested on her forearms and tried to wipe off her hands while she waited.
When the patrolmen finally abandoned the shacks and ran back past her hiding spot, a rustle of relief escaped her. Quickly and as quietly as possible, the detective scrambled upright. She checked her pockets, satisfied nothing inadvertently fell out and was a little surprised to discover she still clutched the wadded envelop. Still partially shielded from detection, Jane's eyes panned the landscape. It was excruciating to linger, to test the stillness. Aside from the intermittent drone of traffic and other noises of city life, the immediate area was silent. Sweat trickled down from her temples. Brusquely she swiped it away with the cuff of her jacket and extracted herself from the bramble.
No longer processing under emergency conditions, her brain reduced speed, if only temporarily. Every joint in her body protested, every muscle chimed in. Jane sucked the cool evening air into her chest. The beat of her heart thumped in her ears. Flushed and hot, she walked over to the hodgepodge that was once a somewhat orderly row of cardboard shanties. She withdrew the cash and began tucking modest wads of it among the debris, her hands swift. The police wouldn't canvass the encampment for a day or so which would give the vagrants ample time to discover that Christmas had come early. Hopefully, by then, most of the money would be gone. It was fortunate that the bills weren't new and therefore her prints had a better than average chance they couldn't be lifted.
The suspicion that she was being set-up crystalized in her jumbled thoughts. She hadn't known what to think when the envelope's contents had spilled out. The detective had acted intuitively, knowing if she were apprehended with incriminating evidence it would be more difficult to worm her way out of a bad situation. Sirens were shrill in the near distance, getting louder. The rest of the cash was stuffed back in her pocket. Jane sprinted off again, away from the approaching manhunt. It took another twenty minutes for her to disperse the remainder of money and the balled up envelop. When the police eventually overtook her, apart from looking dirty and pissed off, Jane was divested of anything she couldn't cast a plausible explanation upon.
XXX
After being processed, the Boston detective placidly lounged in the holding cell among other accused offenders. The chatter flowed but it hardly reached Jane's ears. She perched on a metal bench, arm resting on a bent knee and tucked close to her chest. It was a slow night as far as arrests were concerned. Her dark eyes took in the other women. Smudged mascara and tangled hair seemed to be the consensus of the night. Their faces told a story of abuse and poor choices, from track marks to glossy eyes. Jane's smile was a little bitter. The moment reminded her of two cars, weaving in and out of traffic, one fast and the other slow. It was ironic how they both managed to arrive at the stoplight simultaneously. For all her 'superior' choices throughout her life, she still ended up in jail, at the same 'stoplight' as everyone else in the holding cell.
Uncomfortable, she shifted on the hard bench and hoped she didn't run into someone she had arrested. Jane didn't allow her eyes to linger on the impassive faces of the guards, the shame still too fresh. It didn't make a difference that she had stayed within the boundaries of the law. Stiffly she leaned back against the cinderblock wall and thrust out her chin. Once it got out that she was a detective, which it would since news like that couldn't be contained, an aloof and confident demeanor would instill uncertainty in others. She hoped. Yet it chafed, being locked up, for Jane could not understand how such an event came to pass. The need to pace emerged like tender blades of spring grass and the detective mowed them down, knowing it was far from the last time she would feel such things. Instead of reflecting upon her immediate plight surrounded by metal bars and prolix females proclaiming their innocence, Jane recapitulated the night's 'positives'.
There was no physical evidence on her person when they arrested her, nothing to directly link her to a crime. Her clothes had yet to be processed, may never be, since she hadn't been charged with murder or a 'violent' crime. Intent to distribute. Internally, Jane winced. Evading arrest. The list continued, mostly comprised of lesser and blatantly bogus charges of which, she knew, functioned as red herrings. Jane had employed such methods herself to intimidate a perpetrator, spouting off charges, some real while others were as fictitious as flying elephants. The point was to keep them off-balance. Intimate with police procedure, Jane drew a breath without shaking. Darkly, her thoughts turned to being processed through the system.
The arresting officer was unknown to her but he, in his abject eagerness to cuff her, couldn't wait to make a few snide remarks. She memorized his badge number and name, filing it away for future consideration. A few pairs of eyes looked upon her with censure. Jane hardly registered the flashing lights, the hard metal latched to her wrists behind her back. Nor did she completely appreciate the hand cradling the back of her head as she was tucked into the back of a cruiser. Because there was no leg room, Jane had to turn sideways to accommodate her long legs and cuffed hands. When the door shut her in, she was bombarded by her surroundings. The metal grate between the front and back seat, the immobility of her hands, the distortion on the police radio, and the keen impression of total isolation congealed together. Panic billowed like thick, black smoke. Her chest constricted with the overly rapid beat of her heart. A feeble whimper escaped her lips. Bile churned. She felt caged. Every atom in her body clamored for freedom. The moment rushed over her but Jane pushed it back, willing her mind to empty, her breaths to calm. By the time the police officer twisted into the front seat, making allowances for his bulky duty belt and cramped space, Jane's short-lived meltdown was but a memory. Short and silent, the drive over to county lock-up was relatively painless for Jane.
The jail officers functioned, at best, like automatons, processing her like anyone else. Whatever status and identity she enjoyed on the outside didn't impress anyone in the jail. Another number, another body to be fingerprinted and photographed. The new perspective was a little unsettling.
The intake interview faired a little better for Jane. Officer Jenkins' attitude hovered on the right side of warm which was a mixed blessing. Although they hadn't been in the same class, the detective recognized her from the academy. Jenkins prattled on about the intervening years like a sorority sister but Jane didn't mind, allowing the sibilant notes to whisper past her ears. Far from relaxed, she nonetheless strove to portray a blasé exterior. The brunette was determined to keep her mouth shut and head down and wait it out. As soon as she was dumped into the holding cell with the others, Jane headed for the bank of phones along the back wall. The automatic message asked the 'party' she was calling whether or not they would accept the charges for a collect call placed from the Wedgewood Street jail.
"I almost said no." Korsak grumbled. "It's after midnight."
"Hello, I'm in jail, damnit!"
"Where's Maura?"
"Listen, " Jane ignored his question, her tone urgent. "I need your help first. I was set up by Colin McBride."
Korsak's voice held more force when he asked, "That douche bag attorney? Are you takin' up with him again? I thought you and Mau—"
"Will you focus?! It's nothin' like that. Talk to him, Korsak. Please."
The last was uttered with a tinge of desperation, her composure weakening.
"I'm on it."
They spoke a few minutes longer then hung up.
Calling Maura was a little trickier and Jane waffled, nervous. She stared at the receiver for a few seconds, mentally girding her courage. The last thing she wanted was for Maura to find out about her arrest from someone else. As for the lie she told, Jane cringed and sent out a silent prayer.
XXX
The following morning wasn't the kind filled with optimism and sunshine, where little cartoon blue birds tweeted about with flower garlands dangling from their little yellow claws. Ominous thunderclaps didn't rumble as lightning bolts creased the black sky either. It was ordinary except for the fact that Jane Rizzoli was in custody. Before arriving at the precinct, Maura made a stop at the Rizzoli house and joined the joined the family meeting.
"What do you mean she's been arrested?" Angela whispered.
Tommy glowered, hands clenched at his sides. "We need to get her out."
Frankie parted the drapes and peered out the window. "She needs a lawyer."
Maura held a breath then squared her shoulders. "I've already retained counsel for her this morning—"
"It's not even seven o'clock!" Frank Sr. sputtered, a little awed.
Irony flitted across her features. "My family has one on retainer. He'll meet with Jane this morning. While he's doing that—"
"You got a lawyer on speed dial?" Tom asked, eyes wide. "I knew you came from money—"
"Jesus-Marion-Joseph, Frank, our little girl's in jail!" Angela looked on the verge of crying as she wrung her hands. "What are the charges?"
Sympathy moderated the next words Maura spoke. "I'll find out the specifics later today but I did speak with her last night—"
"What, she couldn't call her mother for help?" Angela fumed, hands fisted on her hips. "She's always been so stubborn!"
Frankie, unable to stand still any longer, scooped up his jacket and flung it on. "I'm gonna find out who—"
A piercing whistle cut through the rising voices. Maura made sure she had their complete attention then continued, "Frankie, we're going to meet Vince at the coffee shop on 4th. Tommy, stay here—"
"No way, Maura. She's my sister!"
The blonde held up her hand, forestalling any more objections. "Right now, just stay here with your mother and father. I promise you, Tommy…" Maura looked directly into his eyes, intent prevalent in her stare. "…right now it's where you need to be." Until he blinked then gave a faint nod, she didn't look away. Almost pleasantly she resumed, "I'll call when we find something out."
"I wanna go see her!" Angela cried, grabbing the front of her husband's shirt. Frank awkwardly patted her shoulder, murmuring indistinct reassurance.
"I'm not sure if she's allowed visitors right now but I'll see if I can do something about that, okay?" Maura gently squeezed the older woman's forearm. "Frankie, we need to go."
His dark eyes, so like Jane's, looked troubled. Quickly he kissed his mother's head, nodded to his brother then followed after Maura.
The drive to the coffee shop was made in silence, Maura transitioning through the morning traffic with flawless expertise. Left alone with his thoughts, Frankie remained mute. Other than glancing out the window a few times, he was motionless as well. From the corner of her eye, Maura kept vigil, worrying whether she should try to draw him out or not. He was usually loquacious, often comically so. The anecdotes he told were mostly self-effacing to showcase a deeper meaning, usually for the listener's benefit. That side of Frankie was the one Maura knew or regularly witnessed. The subdued version riding in her car was unfamiliar. While she tried to make up her mind about what to do, she pulled into the parking lot and sighed. Jane's brother looked over at her. His dark brown eyes reflected concern and worry. Not for the first time, Maura felt the commiseration squeeze her heart. Frankie, always trailing after Jane, looked a little lost.
"We'll figure this out." She said with more confidence then she felt, palms rubbing down the steering wheel.
XXX
Korsak was sitting at a table, tapping his spoon against a ceramic mug when they entered the restaurant. The normally composed detective appeared almost frazzled with his tie askew, hair a little mussed and clothes wrinkled. Once they were all seated, a waitress arrived to take their coffee order, leaving behind a few plastic-coated menus. Maura immediately began wiping off the menu with a disposable sanitizing sheet.
Frankie, short-tempered, grumbled, "It's not like they can carry the plague."
Unperturbed, the medical examiner finished the task then turned her attention to the two men. "You spoke with Jane last night, Vince?"
He sounded tired. "Yeah—"
"Why didn't she call me?" Frankie burst out, running a rough hand through his wavy hair. "She shoulda came to me!"
"She told me to you tell you something."
Eagerly he leaned forward across the table.
Korsak's expression was thoughtful then gradually took on a determined aspect. Without further hesitation, the older detective hit Frankie in the head and aped Jane's voice, "Get over it!"
Jane's brother made a face and settled back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. The hurt look on his face lessened, replaced by filial affection, present in the grin stretching his lips.
"So, what're we gonna do?"
"You and me are going to see Colin McBride. He's a…person of interest. I'll fill you in on the ride to his office."
Maura nodded then leaned back while the waitress filled their coffee mugs and took their orders. Once they were alone again, she said, "I'll be meeting with her and her lawyer this morning, then I'll call your parents."
XXX
The pneumatic doors opened with an eerie whooshing sound, one not new to the visiting medical examiner. In her eagerness to see her lover, Maura was a tad impatient, bordering on rude, a circumstance she would have been embarrassed about had she taken a moment to reflect upon it. The only thing on her mind was seeing Jane. Recriminations, hurt, confusion, anxiety paled when compared to the comfort and warmth she derived from the simple act of being near Jane. A fullness calmed the empty, rippling edges of her spirit whenever she was around the detective. To be away, especially after becoming intimate, was upsetting to Maura. Agitation, like a recalcitrant child, kept ignoring her inner directive to be silent. For a scientist, it was somewhat mortifying to no longer be in control of her mind. Panicked thoughts swept through the once indomitable barriers of reason with as much ease as a summer wind. Emotion had broken through her intellect.
Maura showed her credentials to the officer behind the desk and attempted a smile but failed dismally. A few more corridors and metal bars were all that separated her from Jane. Disturbed by the conditions, she nevertheless projected a serene exterior. The fact that her lover was locked behind bars with a hostile population, pending unknown charges, was enough to make Maura want to break Jane out. Close to venting her frustration, the medical examiner deliberately relaxed her shoulder muscles and hands. As she entered the visiting booth, the sharp strike of her heels against the painted concrete was like a countdown. Gracefully, she sat down on the metal stool, arranging her legs to fit under the counter. The empty space behind the Plexiglas would soon be occupied by Jane. Would she be in a jumpsuit? Scared? Angry? Worried thoughts skittered across her mind like cockroaches. When the brunette shuffled into the room opposite Maura, the cockroaches scattered. She had been prepared for angry, distraught, even cold but Jane wasn't any of these. The fluorescent lights cast an unnatural pallor upon the detective's face. Her cheek bones launched concave shadows down the sides of her face. Jailhouse orange under the harsh effulge overhead wasn't exactly a photographer's dream setup. Jane flipped her hair over one shoulder as she reached for the telephone attached to the sidewall. Maura swallowed and did the same.
"Hey." Jane greeted her, a wide smile taking over her face.
"Hey back."
"Well, this sucks."
"That would be an understatement." Maura leaned closer to the glass. "Are you—can I get you…anything?"
"No, baby, I'm okay." Jane expelled a long breath. "Where's this fancy lawyer?"
"Reginald Prentiss." Looking at her watch, Maura divulged, "He should be here any minute. I…I couldn't wait."
Jane scooted forward, her expression serious. "Listen, Maur, it's going to be okay. Don't worry."
"I don't understand how you can be so cavalier. You are incarcerated!"
"Would you rather I freak out, Maur?" Brown eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I can't lose it in here."
Maura closed her eyes, steadied her breath then said, "It would be unfortunate if you ended up as someone else's bitch."
Jane's face was frozen save the scant twitching of her eyebrows. She stared into cool, deep green eyes and saw the measure of Maura's love. Different tears crept into her eyes as she huskily whispered, "I wish I could kiss you right now."
Leaning forward, Maura rested her forehead on the glass and pressed her palm against it. "I love you."
A slight murmur escaped Jane and she looked away, unable to withstand the torrent of emotion which threatened to topple her defenses.
After a few minutes, they both regained their composures.
"Jane…" Maura faltered, her voice thick with suppressed emotion. "I hate that you felt you had to lie to me."
Obviously they weren't the words the detective had been anticipating for she drew back a little, frowning. "Maura, I—was only trying to protect you. You know that, right?"
"From what? I'm a grown woman."
The detective had the wherewithal to look uncomfortable. "Any possible future litigation."
"So, you were protecting my professional reputation? Career?"
"It sounded better yesterday. You know, like, when I was thinking—"
"You weren't thinking. That's a gross understatement, Jane Rizzoli. And beneath you as well as insulting to me."
"Maur—"
"Maur? Maur? Don't 'Maur' me!"
The medical examiner was gaining momentum. Jane got comfortable in her chair and leaned against the sidewall, clutching the phone.
"I'm not a hysterical woman, but, you—you can push buttons I didn't even know I had!"
Jane wisely remained silent.
"I can't believe—"
Before Maura could finish what she was going to say, the sound of an opening door pulled her attention away.
A blonde man of medium build, dressed in an expensive but understated navy blue suit and striped tie, entered Maura's cubicle. "Hello, Maura." He said politely as she stood up. "You're looking as attractive as ever."
"Reginald. I want to thank—"
"There's absolutely no—"
"HELLO! Woman in jail right over here!"
Maura looked askance at Jane, disapproval unmistakable. She handed the receiver to the imperturbable attorney, knowing he could not have helped overhearing Jane's strident outburst.
"Good morning, Ms. Rizzoli."
XXX
Frankie got out of the detective's sedan and straightened his tie. Korsak looked in the side mirror, smoothed down his mustache then joined Jane's brother at the front of the car.
"So, how you wanna do this?"
Korsak's bushy eyebrows rose. "Alone. Without you. But since that's not an option, just follow my lead and keep your composure, Frankie. Guys like this will use it against you. They make loads of money doin' it, okay?"
"Hey, I know how—"
"What's your last name?" Korsak muttered as they began walking across the parking lot.
Frankie's steps stumbled but he recovered and caught up with the older man. "What's that gotta do with anything? You tryin' to say cause I'm related to Jane, I got a temper?"
Prior to opening the door, Korsak pinned Frankie with a look. "She's much better at hiding her reaction then you are. We only get one shot at this guy. Don't blow it."
Properly chastised, Frankie accompanied Korsak into the building with less cockiness. They headed straight for the black directory panels that looked suspended in midair. Arranged by floor, Korsak mumbled each company listing as he read while Frankie used his finger to point at each one. Without too much trouble, they arrived at McBride, Smith, & Franklin 311. The elevator foyer was brimming with well-dressed executives, the 'clients' that frequented them and a few delivery people. Two ordinary men in cheap suits didn't look out of place. Hands clasped behind him, Korsak, like Frankie, tilted his head back to watch the digital displays that illuminated which floors each elevator car had stopped on. When the electronic chime signaled the elevator doors were opening, they shambled amid the crowd, trying not to step on anyone else's feet. The ride up seemed to take longer than climbing three flights of stairs.
Exiting the elevator, Korsak and Frankie immediately realized the third floor was decorated to impress. They looked at the shiny bronze wall plaques with suite numbers and arrows etched in black. As soon as they stepped onto the black marble floor, they saw their reflections in the ornate, gilded mirror that took up the middle portion of the wall in front of them. Two large Grecian vases stood sentry on either side of the narrow altar table. Filled with fresh peach tulips, the display made an opulent impression. Korsak glared at the younger man when Frankie moved as if to pull out a stem.
Finally they reached the attorney's suite, their footfalls absorbed by the plush, cream carpeting that lined the hallways after they left the elevator's foyer. Massive oak doors easily opened. After the warmth of the outer hallway, McBride's suite was downright chilly. The lone receptionist stood and walked around the elevated platform with a dancer's grace. Her dark hair was tightly slicked back, not a single fibril defying the professional style and looked tightly knotted in the back. Korsak rubbed the back of his head empathetically.
"Hello, gentlemen, welcome to McBride, Smith and Franklin. My name is Serena. Is there something I can assist you with today?"
Frankie's grin split his face. "You know—"
"We're here to see Mr. McBride and no, we don't have an appointment." Korsak smiled, pouring on the gentlemanly charm. "But if you could tell him two of Boston's finest would like a quick word with him, I'd appreciate it."
She was all competence, from modulated words to an unruffled expression. There was nothing, outwardly, that divided her from any other office kinsmen. Korsak didn't foresee gleaning one useful thing from the woman except an audience with the lawyer. Preventing such a development from becoming a reality was her main responsibility. At this level, 'walk-ins' didn't generate the revenue the firm demanded.
"Please have a seat." Serena indicated the chocolate brown leather sofas nearby. "Would you care from some coffee?"
"I—"
Korsak cut off Frankie. "No thanks."
When they were left alone, Frankie complained, "Why you keep blockin' me, man?" He gazed longingly at Serena as she glided over to the receptionist's area. "I'm tryin' to—"
"What did I say earlier, nimrod? Jesus, you're thick-headed." Korsak's words were low and rapid.
"And if you wore panties, old man, they'd be so far up your ass, pliers wouldn't dig 'em out."
Korsak's lips twitched but he managed to grouse, "Damn Rizzolis are gonna end up killin' me."
"Gentleman." Serena came into view. "Mr. McBride is currently on a conference call with a client. He requests that you—"
"Serena, " Frankie interjected, batting long, black lashes. "Listen, aint there somethin' you could do?" He leaned in closer, ignoring Korsak, eyes riveted on the receptionists'. "We just want to ask a few questions."
She exhibited the telltale signs of interest, her blue eyes twinkling, smile over the line of mere professionalism. Korsak instinctively moved a few steps back. The play was already in motion and there was little else he could do. Frankie was on his own. Korsak hoped the kid knew what he was doing. Otherwise, explaining to his big sister how they lost their only lead was going to be perilous.
Without much trouble, the older detective extricated himself from their vicinity and slowly wandered around the large vestibule. He made a show of studying an oil painting. In his peripheral vision he noticed that Serena angled a little more toward the smiling Frankie. A ripple of surprise disrupted his concentration. The receptionist handed a small card to Jane's brother. Soon, Frankie sauntered over, a little flushed and full of himself. He waved the card under Korsak's nose then pocketed it. The older detective waited.
"What?" Frankie asked, depositing his hands in his trouser pockets.
"Well?"
"She's hot, right?"
Korsak unclenched his fists and mentally counted to ten. "What about McBride?"
Rolling his eyes, Frankie whispered, "You told me to follow your lead! You were out there bustin' my—"
The red-faced Korsak's veins were prominent along his temples. He was so angry, words evaporated under the heat of his temper. Just as Korsak was about to come unglued, Frankie winked, then subtly nodded his head. Momentarily confused, the older detective looked over Frankie's shoulder and saw Colin McBride stride in their direction.
XXX
Maura knew it was for the best. Being privy to Jane's attorney consult left Jane exposed and the medical examiner vulnerable. There was no spousal privilege between lesbians which meant Maura could be called to testify in court about what she heard. As for being the Chief Medical Examiner for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, that was yet another complication. Reluctantly, she rose, resisting the urge to place her palm on the Plexiglas and babble words of comfort. Jane's eyes imparted the cost of their abrupt farewell as they tracked Maura's progress out of the room.
Reassured was not how she felt, at all. Eventually Maura knew Jane would tell her everything but until that time, she would be forced to operate on faith. For a scientist that was difficult. In order to protect Maura, Jane refused to talk about anything to do with why she was sitting in a jail. There was nothing for the medical examiner to do except go to work and keep busy.
When Maura exited the county jail, the hot summer breeze lifted the ends of her loose hair. Warm honey tendrils caught the sunlight and shimmered as they bounced with every step she took. Perspiration was already forming over her skin. It was a long walk to the parking lot, particularly in spiked heels. She had taken special care in dressing for the day, selecting the vivid green silk shirt Jane said enhanced the color of her eyes. Maura supposed it was a bonus that her girlfriend also commented that the blouse really showcased two exceptionally feminine attributes that drove Jane a little 'crazy'. She had to admit that Jane's avid interest lit a spark in her. If she were brutally honest with herself, Maura was aware of often choosing to wear an article of clothing that had reaped the most compliments from Jane.
By the time she returned to the car, the delicate sheen of perspiration had turned into rivulets of sweat down her neck and back. She was careful not to sit back in the leather seat before the air-conditioner blew like an artic storm. Jane's deliberate lie about meeting a confidential informant still rankled but most of the anger subsided. Maura understood, may have even done the same in a similar predicament. Despite the logic, the medical examiner could not discount the pebble of hurt lodged somewhere near her heart. Sighing, she pulled into traffic and drove to the precinct.
She duly arrived and went through security, a uniformed officer approached her, a package in hand.
"Dr. Isles, this came for you. I was just about to walk it down." He smiled, not quite hiding the appreciative speculation in his eyes.
Maura glanced at the return address and her heart raced. She hadn't expected Abagail to send a hardcopy of her search results. Furthermore, she never believed the results would fill a small box. Maura eagerly accepted the package, heedless of the officer's reaction to her smile. He stood a few seconds longer than necessary watching her leave.
The first thing she did was search the detective's floor for Korsak or Frost but neither was at their respective desks. A moment of indecision kept her from moving but it didn't last long. She texted Frost then hurried downstairs to the morgue.
Criminalist Susie Chang was preparing a specimen for shipment to one of Maura's classmates who went on to become a preeminent toxicologist.
"The family signed the waiver, granting consent, Dr. Isles. I've made sure to catalogue and make copies."
Maura nodded, once again relieved to have such a capable member on her staff. "When you finish up with that, I'd like your help, Susie."
"Of course."
"I've requested that you use my first name on various occasions." The medical examiner calmly stared at the other woman.
Susie looked slightly offended but gestured she understood. Maura could identify with the intern's adherence to decorum. Yesterday's conversation with Abagail Nuesome came to mind.
The unostentatious package sat next to a pile of folders whose presence would have annoyed her any other time. She supposed she should wait for either Frost or Korsak to arrive then open it. Not knowing when they would get back, however, was justification enough for Maura to find a pair of box cutters. Rummaging through a desk drawer a few minutes later, she could only locate a pair of scissors. She opted to bring the package into her office, feeling a degree safer.
Like a scalpel, she wielded the scissors, carefully peeling back the tape like skin. There were six reports, each ensconced within a black three-ring binder. The case name and date of autopsy were printed on title labels for each one. Maura picked up the top one and set it on the counter. In the bottom of the box there was an envelope with her name boldly scrawled across it. Abagail's penmanship had always been rather dramatic and ineligible, much like spikes on an EKG printout. Disregarding the notebooks for the moment, Maura tore open the envelope.
Maura,
As per your request, here are the cases which meet the criteria you outlined during our telephone conversation. I've taken a considerable risk by providing you these copies without a court order and official case. In a court of law, these documents would be not admissible. But, since you're 'investigating' a theory and the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and a trusted friend, I decided to help you.
Diffidently, Susie happened, at that moment, to knock on the partially opened door. Maura blinked then refolded the note and set it aside.
"You wanted my help—" She made a face, as if something sour just crossed her taste buds. "—Maura."
"Yes. We need to start going through these reports looking for commonalities."
XXX
Colin McBride showed the two detectives into an expensively furnished conference room. Korsak sighed inwardly, dismayed that the attorney had an excellent poker face. Most successful 'high-end' lawyers had perfected the art of getting a lot for a very little. It was a common goal both professions shared. Colin was the sleek and deliberate heavyweight champion whereas Korsak up-played the grizzled 'never was'.
"Jane's been arrested."
Korsak's first volley was a roundhouse punch, all power and no finesse but quite effective when executed properly. Frankie twitched beside him.
Colin hadn't anticipated such a heavy style. A trace of surprise glowed in his eyes then diminished. Korsak saw it. The defense attorney casually leaned back in his chair.
"That's unfortunate."
"You bet your—"
"Frankie." The warning was forged in steel. Korsak's expression remained impassive, his voice without inflection. All the while, he regarded Colin, eyes steady and unfathomable.
Waves of agitation flowed from young detective. In all likelihood, lapping at Colin's feet. Korsak recognized that Frankie would endanger his best chance at extracting any information out of the attorney.
Korsak said softly, "Frankie, why don't you give me a minute?"
"Yeah." He muttered, anger and disapproval coloring his tone. Yet he left, begrudgingly.
Something inside Korsak relaxed a little more although he was too smart to let it show. The two men gauged one another, neither displaying outward clues to their inner thoughts. Silence thickened between them. Content with the suspense, Korsak relied on experience and settled in for a long, tense contest of wills.
"Are you here to retain counsel for your friend, Detective Korsak?"
The veteran detective lightly laid his arm on the polished table, fingers slightly bent. "You know that's not why I'm here."
Colin's smile looked plastic as he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. For all the world he gave off the appearance of an urbane, intelligent shark but the repositioning of his body suggested unease.
"Perhaps you should tell me exactly why you're here."
"Did you set her up?"
Colin hadn't counted on Korsak's forthright response. He was taken aback and it showed. It was fleeting, hardly detectable if one weren't looking for it but Korsak had been.
"Why don't you tell me everything—"
Korsak abruptly rose and stood over the seated attorney. His demeanor swiftly changed to one of fettered aggression. "I'm not gonna ask again."
Colin didn't move. He simply looked up at the detective. "If you get much closer, I may have to lodge a complaint with your lieutenant, Korsak."
The smile Korsak summoned held no mirth. It was more of a derisive sneer. "Wouldn't be my first complaint, counselor."
"That sounds like a threat, detective. Are you threatening me?"
Korsak straightened. Without undue haste, he turned around and walked up to the door.
"Leaving so soon, Korsak?"
The faint metallic click of a bolt sliding into place was the detective's answer. He turned around slowly and faced the attorney.
"You're aware there are cameras and microphones in here?"
For a stout man, Korsak could move agilely. Colin could not suppress the unease in his expression when the older man grabbed both armrests. "You're gonna tell me what I need to know, Colin."
The supercilious look on McBride's face was affixed with bravado and did not escape Korsak. "I'll have your badge, old man."
Further leaning into the other man's space, Korsak whispered, "Did you set her up? I'm not going to ask you again. This is Jane we're talkin' about, Colin. Jane."
Colin looked like a thinking man, a study in weighing options if ever there was one. Korsak didn't blink, kept unbroken eye contact and remained tenacious.
"No." Colin stood abruptly, sending the chair toppling backward. "I didn't. You know where the door's at. I suggest you use it before I forget whatever sentimental feelings I have for her."
"If that's some kind of threat, counselor—"
"Not a threat, Korsak."
"One more thing."
Colin ran a jittery hand through his hair. Korsak repressed a triumphant grin, kept his bushy brows lowered. When the attorney merely nodded, Korsak pressed, "Where can I find the cryptkeeper?"
"You're out of your fucking mind if you think—"
It would have been laughable, how the stalwart detective moved with such precision and speed, given Colin's shocked features. There was nothing humorous about Korsak's intent, however. Beefy hands grabbed the expensive material of the younger man's lapels. The force of Korsak's momentum carried them both to the wall whereupon Colin's back slammed up against it.
Through gritted teeth, the detective rasped, "You owe her that, you piece of shit."