Kismet pt.35
The moment was surreal. John was helpless to do anything other than watch as blood poured freely over the white skin of her beautiful neck. No, not again! he silently begged. There was an indescribable pain in his chest as he stared into her wide, shocked eyes. He saw the desperation and disbelief behind those green pools, as she breathed deeply, waiting to die. He saw her chest rise and fall. The realization of what happened was beginning to sink in. It heaved with every new intake of air. She was breathing. She could still breathe. He focussed on her throat, and for the first time, felt air begin to seep back into his own lungs. It was a flesh wound. She was cut, but her throat wasn't sliced open. She was alive, and he felt the numbness of his own body begin to burn with a hatred so deep it was staggering.
Jarod leaned on the desk staring hard, pleased with himself. "Pretty good, huh?" He glanced quickly at the wound, and felt pride in his accomplishment. "If I wanted her dead, she'd be dead, but you probably shouldn't talk about my mother anymore." He casually stepped behind Natalie and rested his hands comfortably on her shoulders - as though he had the right, as though she were his. He felt lighter. "You want to kill me, don't you John?" He could see the truth in his words as he looked into the agent's eyes, and he smiled. His rage was dissipating, and found he could focus on what he was doing and why they were all here? "That's alright, I understand."
Natalie continued to breathe, staring at the floorboards beneath her feet. She wasn't dead. She could feel the sharp sting at her throat and the stickiness of the blood that slid down her neck. She closed her eyes, willing her skin to stop crawling from his touch as he stroked her hair from behind. She felt sick. She felt cold, but mostly, she felt anger. Uncontrollable anger. He sliced her throat with a knife and she wanted him to die. "Get your hands off of me, Jarod!" she ordered, slowly lifting her head.
He bent to her ear. "What was that?"
"You heard me. Get your hands off of me. You make me sick." She didn't care that he could bleed her like a pig at a slaughter. She didn't care one bit. She only cared that he was touching her. "Don't TOUCH ME!" she was screaming, unable to hold back anymore. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was grateful to still feel it beating, but she was also terrified.
After a moment, he moved away from her and took his seat at the desk. "Well, she's still got her fire, hey McBain? That's good." He laughed and put his feet on the desk.
John stared at her, wanting to slap her for risking Jarod's wrath again. He closed his eyes for a split second at her shout, knowing that the tormenting would soon be too much. He needed to end this now, not later. Later would be too late. Then he saw the casual gun wave and took a seat, actually relieved to be giving his shaky legs a rest. He tore his gaze away from Natalie. "You seem more calm." His voice was deep, but it was there. He didn't know how it was still there?
Jarod shrugged. "Did I tell you that I was impressed with how quickly you got here? I really didn't expect you so soon, so it was a nice surprise."
"I was highly motivated."
"Yes," he cooed, turning back to Natalie, "I guess you would be?" He pulled the chair over again, and she tensed up, staring off to the side. "Look at me please?" he asked, earnestly.
She took a breath, and then another, and another. Then finally, she met his eyes.
"I'm sorry." he said, sincerely. "I really never wanted to hurt you. I hope you can believe that? We were good friends once." He watched her process his words, and then slowly smile. He watched her grin widen before she outright laughed. His stomach clenched, and he fought an irresistible urge to squeeze her neck until her life disappeared like a puff of smoke. He pushed her hard and the chair wheeled across the room. His eyes found Johnny boy. "Well, that was rude?"
John was smiling.
"Tell me how you figured out where we were?"
"Does it matter?" John frowned, feeling his adrenaline pumping. Natalie was a fair distance away now. That was good. "I found you, and here we are."
Jarod seemed put-off. "Of course it matters! Everything you've done to get to this point matters, don't you understand that yet?" He had both weapons resting on the desk, and he stood sharply.
John held his breath. He thought he was going to retrieve Natalie, but instead, he took a familiar perch on the desktop. "Honestly, it didn't make any sense to me at first. The scrabble pieces? Not until we counted them." Jarod smiled softly, but wanted more. "There were 100, which is the amount in a complete game. I knew that you were in the scrabble club with Caitlyn, so to get back to the beginning we would have to start here."
Jarod hopped to the floor, and leaned forward on the closest table in front of him. "Go on," he encouraged, happily.
"You weren't about to get Natalie all the way to Brown University, so Llanview University would have to do, as far as substitutes go."
"That's pretty good, John?"
"You sound surprised." He turned slightly, freeing his legs from the confines of the table.
"I am, actually." Jarod continued to stare.
"That I figured it out, or that I'm here at all?" He watched Hamilton laugh lightly.
"Both."
John swallowed, steeling himself for what was coming. "The girl in Port Place?"
"Yes?"
"She wasn't killed there, was she?" He saw the look of unadulterated joy. "How long ago did you kill her?"
Jarod stood and clapped. He was excited now. "Oh man, this is more fun than I thought it would be." He leaned onto the table again. "She's been dead for almost four days now."
John nodded, finally understanding. "You froze her. That's why she was so cold to the touch. What did you use to transport her? An ice cream truck, or grocery delivery vehicle or something?"
Hamilton laughed. "Actually...I stole the medical examiner's truck, or I guess I should say borrowed since technically I'm still employed by the LPD."
John chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief. "You had all of us scrambling, didn't you? That's pretty good, Jarod. I have to admit, you are good."
"Thank you." Their eyes collided.
"Now, let's talk about Caitlyn?" John suggested, firmly. He needed to know all of it. "That picture you left on the dead girl? You took it, didn't you?"
He pushed off from the table, and crossed his arms over his chest. "She looked incredible that day. Perfect."
John's stomach twisted. "Well, she was a beautiful girl." He saw the jealousy flash across his captors features for a moment. "She looked happy in the picture."
"She WAS happy, that's the whole point! We were happy." His eyes glazed slightly, remembering. "We would have been so happy."
John quickly glanced at Nat, who was staying very quiet. She was still working on her ropes though. He refocussed on Hamilton. "That was before I knew Caitlyn."
He looked into the blue eyes across from him and frowned. "I know."
John continued to press the issue. "Did you date her Jarod?" That got his attention.
"I LOVED HER!" he boomed, taking a few steps, and then backtracking. He was beginning to pace again. "She didn't have time to realize that we were meant to be, because of you!"
John could feel his blood rushing through his veins. "I don't understand?" he said calmly. "I didn't know her then?"
Jarod stopped walking and leaned on the table again, still staring harshly at the agent. "Try to follow along, John?" he snapped, frustrated. His anger was coming back, but it didn't matter anymore. Soon this would finally be over and John McBain would be dead. "Not then, but about a year and a half later, you stole her."
McBain thought back, and slowly realized what must have happened? "The conference in Pheonix," he said quietly.
"The conference," Jarod repeated, bitterly. "We were there," he paused, correcting himself, "or rather the Scrabble Team was there, to play in the championships. We were there to win a damn scrabble trophy!"
John nodded. "I remember that now."
"Well, that's the difference between you and me, John. I never forgot."
John was angry. "That's not the only difference, Jarod."
Hamilton's eyes flashed, and then he began to slowly pace again, keeping his eyes trained on McBain. "Do you know what the irony is in all this?" John shrugged. "I was the one who suggested we pop into the damn lecture." He laughed, but it was an ice cold sound. "That's funny, isn't it?" He stopped and stared. "We were bored, so we snuck into the stupid room and you were on stage spouting off about serial killers and what their motivations were. Now that's funny! You didn't have a clue then, did you, but Haver educated you. He used Caitlyn to do it!"
"I'd say we both learned something, wouldn't you?"
His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, letting his hate flash at the agent. "Don't push me," he warned.
John chuckled. "So that's what this is all about? You never made a move on a girl that you had feelings for, and then went off the deep end when she didn't wait for you?" He was laughing again, and could see the deadly reaction in the man across the room. Still, he pushed. "You murdered innocent girl after innocent girl, because Caitlyn fell in love with me, and not you? That's pathetic man."
He stood stiffly from the desk. "You're the pathetic one. You dedicate your life to stopping serial crimes, but stop living your own. Only that didn't prevent you from hopping from bed to bed, did it?" He slammed his fist onto the desk. "You betrayed her. You promised to love her forever, but that's not what happened? Instead, you slept with warm body after warm body, like she didn't even matter? Like she was never a part of your life?"
John's throat felt raw. He didn't look at Natalie, even though he wanted to more than anything. "I loved her you asshole! I was going to marry her, but she died. She died Jarod, do you understand that?" His anger was taking hold as well. "And what about you? You had sex with how many of your dead victims? Isn't that betrayal?"
He stared incredulously. "I had sex with Caitlyn and only Caitlyn," he answered, as though it was obvious. As though he made perfect sense.
McBain felt the knot in his stomach twist like a knife. "You're sick!" he muttered, feeling ill.
Hamilton sneered at his flippant comment. "I'm not sick, I'm true. You wouldn't understand that though. You couldn't. When you were bedding Natalie, were you thinking of Caitlyn?" He didn't wait for an answer, because he already knew. "You say you love her, but you don't understand real love."
"So who taught you real love, Jarod? My money's on daddy." The man froze, wide-eyed. "See, I assumed it was your mom, but it wasn't. It was dad, wasn't it Jarod? He touched you and made you touch him. What kind of things did he make you do to him? For him?" John watched him step back numbly, bumping the desk with the back of his legs. Then he was turning for a weapon, but didn't get the chance to pick one up.
John flew at him, and they both sailed over the desk, landing hard onto the floor and slamming into the wall. He punched him, but their struggle wasn't an easy one. Jarod was strong. He struck back, and McBain felt the connection acutely as a fist hit the side of his head. He saw a hand reach for the gun, and grabbed at his wrist tightly, keeping the nozzle pointing away. The sound of gunfire rang out, and he winced at the noise before finally knocking the weapon from his hand. It fell to the floor and disappeared beneath their writhing bodies. Natalie was shouting, but he couldn't focus on the meaning of her words. Jarod managed to push him to the floorboards, and he saw a flash of light for a second and knew it was the knife. Then the blade was plummeting for his chest, and he sucked in a breath. Another shot rang out, and Hamilton fell off of him, curling up beside him.
John lay there for a moment, blinking. He pushed the weapons from Jarod's reach, and turned, rising from the floor onto his knees. He kept his eyes on the man who was huddled tightly, bleeding from his shoulder. Sandler stepped past him and handcuffed him roughly. John blinked again, standing and breathing. He turned and found Bo nodding in his direction before walking toward Natalie.
It was over. It was finally, really over. He watched cops flood the room, and then slowly spun until he found a pair of startling green eyes. He watched her stand, released from her confines, and walk toward him.
Natalie was crying. She couldn't remember the last time she let herself be vulnerable in front of anyone, but right now it didn't matter. John was safe and alive, and she let the tears flow freely over her cold cheeks. When she reached him, she stopped, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes. It was over. Then she took his hand in hers and silently led him from the room.