Thanks so much for the wonderful feedback! And for sticking around between updates! My muse is a fickle beast!
Hope this makes up for the wait!
Your Case or Mine
Chapter 2
Never before had Emma wanted the world to open up and swallow her whole. Not until the moment her nameless bed-mate from the night before had shown up and basically informed her that he was to be her temporary new boss for the duration of her current case.
After Killian had put on a show of introducing himself, the sparkle in his eyes and the hint of a smirk on his lips lost on everyone but her, she'd quickly excused herself and bolted for the bathroom. She'd locked herself in a stall and took deep, steadying breaths for long moments, reluctantly leaving the solitary safety of the restroom when she knew her absence was becoming conspicuous.
Thankfully, Killian Jones, FBI, was nowhere to be seen by that point, and David seemed to have disappeared too. Will informed her that they'd gone to discuss space and facility allocation, before launching into his suspicions about her reaction to the charming FBI agent.
Quickly tiring of his incessant talking, she shot him an icy glare and muttered under her breath that yes, he was the guy she'd left the bar with the night before, and yes, she'd slept with him, and no, she certainly hadn't known who he was when she did so.
"I knew I bloody recognized the bugger!"
Will's attempt at a whisper left something to be desired and his tone was entirely too gleeful for Emma's liking. If she hadn't been quite so floored by the sudden appearance of her most recent (and by far her best) one-nighter in her place of work, she might have had the sense of mind to deliver a swift elbow to his ribs. But the most she could manage was a withering glare before her attention was displaced once more as Killian and David returned.
Killian's eyes met hers immediately and the air backed up in her lungs. She made a mental note to warn him off, to make it extremely clear she wanted nothing more to do with him. It had been a one-time thing, and that was that.
So she should have been glad when he kept his distance for the rest of the day, despite the occasional glance she caught aimed in her direction. But she wasn't. In fact, the longer he kept his distance and respected the giant invisible sign she wore warning him off, the more on-edge she became. It wasn't as though she could approach him and tell him to stay away from her…considering that was exactly what he was doing. But at the same time, she still felt the need to emphasize just how 'not happening' they were.
By the end of the day, Emma wanted nothing more than to get home, take a hot bath and crawl into bed. She would figure out how exactly to approach the awkward yet requisite conversation with Killian about where they stood once she was suitably drunk on vanilla and lavender fumes from her bath salts. That would surely help.
But just as she reached her car, a voice across the busy parking lot stopped her in her tracks, calling her name from behind her. She froze, debating whether or not she could pretend she didn't hear him, jump in her car and speed off. With a resigned sigh, she turned around slowly as he approached and offered him a tight, impassive smile.
"I didn't get a chance to speak with you properly today-"
"Yeah, that's 'cause I was avoiding you."
She shot back flatly, but instead of being offended by her bluntness, he simply tilted his head slightly and smirked.
"Now why would you wish to avoid me, love? Didn't you have a good time last night?"
His voice dropped and she tried to ignore the way that silky tone spoke to her baser instincts and kicked her autonomic nervous system into high gear. She gritted her teeth, hating that he seemingly knew how to rile her up and was not averse to using it against her.
"It was a one-time thing. I never thought I'd see you again, and it never would have happened if I knew who you were. So yeah. Not interested. And stop looking at me like you've seen me naked."
His tongue darted out across his lips and she bit her own to hold back her body's instinctive mirror reaction.
"Oh, but I have seen you naked, Swan. And you're a bloody marvel. Especially when you're com-"
"Stop. Enough. I've told you where we stand. Now back the fuck off."
Her defences were up, and she could feel the tension in her shoulders, her glare shooting daggers at him as she backed up and yanked open her car door. His smirk was gone and he remained silent for a moment before nodding, holding up his hands and stepping back from her car.
"As you wish. I apologize if I've made you uncomfortable. I shall take my leave now. Have a lovely evening."
With that he walked away, and Emma was left staring after him, pointedly ignoring the whisper in the back of her mind that told her she'd met her match in this Killian Jones. That she had made a fatal error when she'd gone home with him. And that perhaps, there was something about him, which had already begun to take root under her skin.
/ CS /
Killian Jones was fucked. Well and truly, in every sense of the word, fucked.
He had been since the moment Detective Emma Swan strode up to him at the local pub and demanded to know how he'd known her drink of choice. He'd appreciated her beauty from across the bar, and when she'd met his gaze, he'd felt an instant connection. Of course, his brother's voice in his head had immediately chided him for such fanciful notions, but he'd simply tossed back his rum and drowned Liam out.
He'd sent her a drink over on impulse, not really analysing why exactly he had the distinct feeling she was a rum girl. A few minutes later, she'd strolled over, the suspicion in her tone soon turning into something entirely more encouraging. She'd openly flirted, but never asked his name, and by the time she leaned in closer, a light yet enticing hint of her perfume along with vanilla and coconut shampoo intoxicating him further, he knew he was a lost cause. She suggested they should leave the bar, and he was more than willing to oblige.
When they'd finally reached his hotel room, she'd had him pinned against the wall before he'd even managed to kick the door fully shut behind them. She'd driven him crazy the entire cab ride, and he was glad to know she wasn't going to play it coy and torture him too much.
The sex had been phenomenal, even better than he'd anticipated. She'd surpassed every fantasy he'd ever had, and then some. He was utterly enamored with this siren, and it had startled him a little as he'd stood under the shower following the most erotic and satisfying two and a half hours of his life. He knew that when he felt things, he felt them intensely and completely, so already the warning bells were sounding in his head, telling him not to read more into the night they were sharing as anything more than just sex.
A one night stand was clearly all she wanted, uninterested in even knowing his name before she'd gone home with him. And that was fine. He could deal with that. He'd just hoped he could perhaps convince her to stay the night and go one more round in the morning before she left.
But he had his answer to that unasked question when he'd found his room empty as he emerged from the bathroom. He knew he shouldn't have felt as disappointed as he did, but he couldn't help it. Resigning himself to ordering room service and a sappy pay-per-view movie, he tried to push his mysterious Emma out of his mind.
He hadn't even known her last name. Or if Emma was indeed her real first name. He had, however, been well aware that she'd made it quite clear sex was all she wanted from him, and that looking for her would not be well-received. But with such intensely vivid images locked in his memory, he'd known he would be reliving the night in his mind over and over, even if he never did see her again. And he'd supposed he could settle for that.
That was, until the very next day. He had arrived in the city with his team in the early evening, and they were set to join the local homicide team the following morning. He'd arrived promptly, a little before the rest of his task force, and was relieved to find that David Nolan, Captain of Boston Homicide, was most accommodating. He'd shown him around and introduced him to the tech people the department would be providing for his team, and then to a few of the officers who were currently heading up the investigation.
Will Scarlet hadn't inspired the most confidence in him, but David had assured him quietly that Will's partner was extremely competent, despite being the youngest female detective they'd ever had on the force, and that she was the actual lead on the case. He was already impressed, but he hadn't put the pieces together. Of course he hadn't.
What were the chances that the incredible, feisty woman he'd happened to meet and sleep with the night before would end up being the lead detective on a case he was in the city to take over? Slim to impossible. So when she'd stumbled through the door, looking more than a little harried, he'd been completely at a loss for words. He'd been extremely glad she hadn't spotted him first, because he'd had time to compose himself and school his features into something that wouldn't immediately scream to the entire department that they'd fucked.
When David had introduced him to her, he'd watched as the color had drained from her face and she'd just about managed a terse response before she was bolting. It didn't exactly surprise him, considering how swiftly she'd disappeared the night before, but he couldn't help feel slightly disheartened. He knew she'd enjoyed their brief encounter, considering the amount of orgasms he'd coaxed from her, but the fact that she was so averse to seeing him again was a slight hit to his ego.
Eventually, she'd returned to the bullpen, and he'd given her the distance she'd clearly required. But even if he had so much as looked in her direction, she'd avoided his gaze and made sure her back was to him. He didn't have to be a profiler to know what her body language was telling him.
By the end of the day, he'd felt drained. Not from the actual work, but from the effort it had taken to stop his thoughts from drifting to her. He wasn't used to being quite so enamored with a woman he didn't even really know.
So, when he'd seen her shock of blonde hair and red jacket disappear out of the door at what was clearly the end of her shift, he'd known he had to speak to her, even though he still hadn't a bloody clue what to say. He'd quickly made his way to the parking lot, concerned that he'd miss her because of the amount of people all bustling past him, clearly eager to leave work for the day. But then he saw her, approaching a vintage yellow VW bug, of all cars. And he'd shouted her name before he could second guess himself.
He'd watched as she'd frozen, and made his way over to her. She'd finally turned to face him, and though she'd smiled, it was a tight, forced thing that hadn't reached her eyes. His instinctive reaction had been to rely on some good old innuendos, but they had most definitely backfired, and she'd shut him down with venom in her tone, fire in her eyes and tension in her shoulders. He'd quickly apologized, stomach heavy with regret for clearly making her uncomfortable. That certainly hadn't been his intention. He'd walked away and she'd sped past him a few moments later, without looking back he was sure.
He'd slept terribly that night, tossing and turning in his much-too-crisp hotel sheets. Despite the bed having been made up, he could still smell Emma's shampoo, the scent of her lingering and tormenting him. He'd gone for a walk around the block at 3am, hoping some fresh air would help him unwind, but when he was still trying to drop off at 5am, he'd given up.
Instead, he'd opted for a hot shower and scouted out the closest coffee house to his hotel, which ended up being a Dunkin Donuts, because much to his chagrin, Starbucks seemed to be conspicuously scarce in Boston. So, he'd tucked himself into a corner and dosed up on caffeine until he'd deemed it a reasonable hour to head to the office. Hoping he didn't look too haggard, he made a mental plan of action…which immediately flew out of the window when he saw Emma sat alone in the eerily silent bullpen, eyes scanning over a document she was clearly engrossed in as she absently sipped on a coffee that was almost bigger than her.
Emma had arrived at work bright and early a little while before him, relishing the fact that she had the office to herself for a little while, her extra-large coffee a substitute for all the sleep she hadn't managed to get the night before. She'd tossed and turned all night, and told herself it was purely down to the weight of a new case and absolutely nothing to do with a certain FBI agent she couldn't get out of her damn head. This was not normal for her. Her conquests didn't play on her mind. She'd be pushed to remember what most of them even looked like.
But he was different. And not only because he was suddenly thrust into an area of her life that she had no wish for him to be a part of.
Giving up on sleep at around 5am, she'd stuffed a Poptart in her mouth, pulled on her workout gear and opted for a run. That always helped to clear her mind. During any particularly testing cases, usually ones that hit a little too close to home for one reason or another, Emma would regularly fit in a morning run before work. She had particular routes she favored on such occasions, which afforded her enough time to shower and change at the precinct before she began her shift.
"Morning, Detective Swan."
Emma jumped a mile and almost spilled her precious coffee all over herself. She'd been at her desk in the empty bullpen all of ten minutes and was catching up on the crime scene lab results the night shift had left when Killian's voice startled her.
"What- why are you here so early? It's only…7:30."
"I could ask the same about you."
She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee and levelling a bemused gaze on him.
"I asked you first."
He chuckled at that as she placed her coffee down and folded her arms, raising an eyebrow and waiting for an answer. He sighed and perched on the edge of her desk, giving her a jarring view of his profile that she really couldn't help but silently admire. Scratching behind his ear, seemingly oblivious to how damn gorgeous he looked from such an angle, he sighed.
"Truth be told, I couldn't sleep. I feel we got off on a bad foot here. I understand that you clearly prefer to keep your work and personal lives as two very separate entities and I respect that. So, how about we start over? What do you say, Swan? Give me a chance to show you I'm actually a rather decent bloke and let us work together without the giant elephant in the room?" He paused, "The elephant being our night together, of course."
Emma was taken aback. She'd never met anyone quite like this man before, and it was throwing her more than a little off kilter. She was used to dealing with scumbags, criminals. Yes, her partner and the other men she worked with were all pretty alright (okay, David was as stellar as they came, but she'd always viewed him as some kind of anomaly), but overall, she was used to the odd innuendo or borderline-misogynistic comment. She roasted them for it, of course, but they were used to that too. In her experience, that seemed to be the norm in such a male-dominated workplace. She wasn't saying it was right, but it was just the reality of her job.
And now here was this guy, losing sleep over what she may or may not think of him. She was most definitely going to file him in the 'anomaly' category along with David.
Realizing she was gawping at him as he shifted uncomfortably, waiting for a response from her, she quickly snapped her mouth shut and cleared her throat, pointedly ignoring the flush she could feel heating her face. She hoped he hadn't noticed.
"Uh…yeah. Alright. Whatever. You do your job and I'll do mine."
He gave her a small smile, and she couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking, practically able to hear the gears turning in his head as he considered her for a long moment. Finally, he nodded and moved to stand from where he'd been perched on her desk.
"Good. Wonderful. Then it'll be a pleasure working with you, Detective Swan."
"Emma is fine. No one addresses each other by their full title in here, in case you haven't already noticed."
Killian nodded again, his smile a little bigger than before and reaching his eyes this time. He canted his head toward the briefing room.
"When the rest of the team arrives in a little while, I'd like to go over everything we already know and the lab results that I notice you have there with you. Then we can start to put together our profile. That sound reasonable?"
Emma gave a succinct nod and he smiled. He knew that was probably the best he could have hoped for, and he was satisfied. As he made his way to the briefing room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he hoped their interaction that morning had gone some way to countering their sour one from the day before. He certainly felt as though some of the weight had been lifted, and he found the smile still on his face as he busied himself preparing for the morning's briefing.
Emma was somewhat relieved that he'd gotten straight back to business. Work talk, she could deal with. From what she'd seen of him around the office so far, when she'd been pretending not to take any notice of him whatsoever, he seemed like he shared her work ethic – i.e. he was borderline obsessive and relentless when he was on a case, and extremely thorough with his investigations.
Okay, so…maybe that wasn't just what she'd picked up from one day of stolen glances. Maybe she'd been nosy and looked up his file and credentials…but it was purely in the interest of knowing who she was working with. Or so she'd tried to convince herself.
Special Agent Killian Jones was a former British Navy Lieutenant, a dual-national who was born in the US to British parents and moved back to England after his mother passed away when he was young. It wasn't quite clear what had made him swap the British Navy for the US Government, but he'd been climbing the ranks of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit for the last few years.
There were some sealed internal files that Emma couldn't access, and though she was tempted to give it a shot, curiosity making her fingers itch, she didn't really want her access attempt to be flagged. Explaining why she was digging through Killian's personal records was just a whole level of awkward she wasn't willing to put herself through.
So she'd quickly turned her attention back to her actual case, reminding herself that there were two, if not more, dead women whose families deserved answers, and a killer on the loose who could strike again any day. That was enough to sober her thoughts and motivate her to barrel through the mountainous stack of paperwork the crime scene samples had generated.
The results of those samples were the papers she'd found on her desk that morning, and after stealing a glance over her shoulder, to see Killian deeply engrossed in briefing prep, Emma got her head down and focused on analysing the daunting sheets of results in front of her.
/ CS /
"So, what we don't want releasing to the media, under any circumstances, are the two main identifiers of this case: the stolen hearts and the face-down photographs. They're what we call 'signatures'. Things the unsub-…unknown subject, the killer-"
"Alright, buddy, this isn't How To Be a Cop 101, all of us here know what a signature and an unsub are," Emma rolled her eyes, "How about you talk to us like we're actual cops and not grade school kids at a career fair."
A handful of her fellow officers chuckled their agreement and a few of Killian's team did a poor job of biting back their amusement, but she could feel David's glare levelled on her, which she steadfastly avoided. Instead, she defiantly held Killian's gaze, choosing to ignore the tiny hairs on the back of her neck that were not reacting to his eyes locking with hers, and the flush she couldn't feel threatening to crack her indignant façade.
"Apologies, Detective Swan," Killian responded, amusement in his tone as he continued to maintain eye contact, "I will try to be more mindful of your expertise in the future."
All attempts at holding back her blush were thwarted as he wrapped his tongue around that single word in the most indecent manner, and it was all she could do not to gawp at the audacity of his response in a room full of people. People who were now eyeing the two of them with piqued interest. People who could clearly feel the crackle of electricity that sparked between them almost as well as she could.
Biting back another sassy response that was burning the tip of her tongue, Emma folded her arms and forcibly broke his gaze. Killian cleared his throat, seemingly unfazed by the charged exchange with someone who was, as far as anyone else was concerned, a total stranger to him, and forced himself to focus back on the briefing.
Even when she was supposedly playing nice, after they'd called a truce and agreed on a do-over, she was intent on pushing his buttons, it seemed. And he couldn't help but find that devastatingly enticing. She was full of fire, and he was more than willing to get burned if it meant he got to share a bit of her heat.
He powered through the rest of the briefing without any more interruptions, laying out a preliminary profile of a Caucasian male in his late thirties to mid-forties, likely in a job that allowed him unsuspecting access to properties, enabling him to blend in and come and go easily while learning the daily routines of his victims. Killian also suggested that his team believed the man lived alone, or had access to a private storage facility where he likely kept his trophies. He would not hide them, wishing to retrieve them easily to relive the kill. It was also probable, Killian noted, that the victims represented someone who, in the unsub's eyes, had metaphorically 'ripped his heart out' in some way. The signature was meaningful; his victims simply surrogates.
At the end of the briefing, Killian opened the floor up for questions, and was unsurprised when Emma raised her hand.
"Yes, Detective Swan?"
"You think it's a guy…why not a woman?"
Killian moved around to perch on the front of the desk, the room quiet as they awaited an answer.
"Female serial killers are a rare breed. That's not to say they don't exist, of course. We know they do. But there are a number of unique characteristics that suggest a female unsub over a male. For one, the methods they use are generally, but not always, less…gory, shall we say? Female serial killers favor drowning, poisoning and such…and many see their actions as mercy-driven. The vast majority of female serial killers target family members, or their victims are under their care somehow. The motives tend to be money-driven or crimes of passion with women too. We don't see any of those markers in this case."
Killian paused, glancing around the room at almost every pair of eyes glued to him with rapt attention. He was somewhat pleased to see the intrigue in Emma's gaze too, and he cleared his throat.
"That's not to say a female categorically isn't involved…a profile can develop along with a case, and we may uncover details that suggest our ubsub has an accomplice of the female persuasion. But we may not. My team and I prefer to let the case talk to us, and simply listen to what it gives us. We don't necessarily discount possibilities, but it would certainly surprise me if our ubsub was a woman."
Emma nodded thoughtfully, grudgingly admitting that she was fascinated. Her methods had always been more cut-and-dry when it came to catching her bad guys. But Killian and his team sought to get into their heads and uncover their motivations for doing what they did. She couldn't help but absently wonder if it ever got to him, if he could switch off at the end of the day and leave his cases at work, or if any of them haunted him and kept him awake at night...if they affected his relationships.
Shaking off unwelcome thoughts about Killian's personal life, Emma zoned back in to hear him explaining that the FBI technical analyst was busy scouring every database to try and find a link between the two victims, and that he was sure that once they had a link, they could then look at predicting their killer's next move. They would be able to identify individuals at most risk of becoming the next victims, and look at everyone in their lives who could fit the profile of the killer. Until then, unless they got any fast hits, it was all down to processing the crime scene.
A hotline had been set up, as per protocol, but thus far no significant leads had been flagged up. That was, until just before six pm, when a rookie manning one of the phones frantically began waving them over. Wasting no time, Killian and Emma grabbed extra headsets and got on the line. The rookie did his best to calm the hysterical woman on the other end of the phone, but she was babbling almost-incoherently, so Emma snatched the mouthpiece and took over.
"Hi, I'm Detective Emma Swan, can I ask who I'm speaking to?"
Her voice was gentle, soothing, and Killian couldn't help but marvel at her versatility. One second she was prickly and domineering, with a tongue and wit sharp enough to scar a man, and the next she was comforting and reassuring, her voice a balm even to the deepest wounds.
Focusing back on the job at hand, Killian listened to the panicked woman sniffling, her voice shaking as she tried to articulate the reason for her call. She'd gone across the street to see her neighbor, and instead had found the woman's body, bloodied and lifeless, on the living room floor. She'd immediately called the cops in a panic, and had been put through to the hotline when it had rang alarm bells with dispatch.
Emma stayed on the line with the woman until dispatched first response officers arrived to secure the scene a few minutes later. She then hung up, already mentally preparing her argument for why Killian should let her attend the crime scene with him, fully expecting resistance. Instead, he emerged from his makeshift office with his FBI vest on (and Emma would never admit it but…damn) and met her gaze, canting his head toward the door.
"Come on, Detective Swan, let's go."
Surprised, but careful not to show it, she gave a succinct nod and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. She was halfway out the door when Will's voice stopped her.
"Oii, Swan!" He called across the station with a mouthful of whatever pastry had been left unattended for more than 0.6 seconds, "Think you're forgettin' who your partner is 'ere."
Emma rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh.
"Sorry I'm busy actually working while you stuff your face with stolen pastries."
He grinned at her with a full mouth, unaffected by her dig as he chomped happily on his pilfered treat.
"A man can't work on an empty stomach, love. Brain food an' all that. I'm good now though, so lead the way."
She stared at him for a moment before folding her arms.
"You're coming to the crime scene? Why?"
"To do me job. By which I mean – keep you from fallin' prey to the hunky boss man's charms. Again."
Emma delivered a sharp elbow to his ribs and a warning glare that did nothing to intimidate him anymore, muttering curses at him as he chuckled and followed her out to the car.
/ CS /
No matter how many crime scenes Emma attended, she was pretty sure she was never going to get this one out of her mind. Nothing had been touched, as per strict orders from Killian, and she watched as he carefully manoeuvred around the living room with the practiced ease of someone who saw such atrocities on the regular and had somehow found a way to harden themselves to the horror of it all.
She'd dealt with her fair share of homicides – obviously – but none had made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up the way this one did. The body of the victim – Ashley Boyd, 23 – lay in the center of the living room, eyes wide in an immortalized mask of fear. She heard Will's muttered 'bloody hell' behind her, and she was inclined to agree.
Glancing around, Emma took in as many details as she could. Turned down photographs littered the mantel and end tables, just like the previous crime scenes. But one in particular caught Emma's attention. The others had simply been turned over where they stood, but this one appeared to have been smashed with some force, glass shattered and the frame dented.
Grabbing some gloves, Emma carefully lifted the damaged photo frame off of the floor and turned it around to find a picture of the victim in a hospital bed, a newborn baby cradled in her arms and a tired smile on her face. Frowning, she glanced around the room. There didn't seem to be any signs that a baby lived in the house, from what she'd seen so far, nor did the neighbor who'd called it in say anything about a child. And it appeared that this picture in particular had somehow angered the killer.
"Hey, have you seen this?"
She called Killian's attention over to the photograph and he looked at it thoughtfully for a moment.
"Seems this photograph pissed off our unsub…we'll need hospital records. If there's a child involved…where is it? And where's the husband?"
"Oh, neighbor said he goes to visit his dad in Pennsylvania once a month. Got people tryin' to contact 'im."
Will supplied, and Killian nodded, turning back to survey the crime scene. Emma excused herself, heading outside to where the neighbor sat quite clearly in shock in the passenger seat of a cop car, a blanket around her and the door open as people bustled back and forth securing the scene.
"Hi…I'm Emma…the detective you spoke to on the phone earlier. It's Kathryn, right? How are you doing?"
The young woman turned a haunted gaze to Emma and managed a wan smile.
"Yeah. Not great. I just keep…seeing her face. She looked so scared."
The woman's voice cracked and Emma crouched down beside her. She dealt with homicides almost every day, and that meant also dealing with the people who were left behind to pick up the pieces after their lives were forever changed by the loss of someone they cared about.
"I promise you we're going to do everything we can to catch the person responsible and bring them to justice. But I need your help. Do you think you can answer a couple questions for me? Just so we can get an idea of what Ashley's life was like, and then we can piece together how the person who did this came into contact with her. Does that make sense?"
Kathryn nodded, brushing away stray tears with the back of her hand before pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as Emma pulled out a small notepad and pen.
"Ashley's husband, he's away?"
"Yeah. Sean. His dad lives in Pittsburgh now, and he goes to see him the last weekend of every month. He's done that since they moved here a couple years ago. This house is Sean's dad's."
Emma nodded, hastily jotting down the information.
"And do they have any kids?"
Kathryn smiled sadly and shook her head.
"No…well, they had a baby when they were younger. Ashley was still a teenager and they put the baby up for adoption. They had a girl and called her Alexandra, but it was before I knew them, so I don't really know much more than that."
Emma couldn't help but feel that this was all somehow going to end up being pivotal information, so she made sure she noted every detail, ignoring the unsettle feeling that churned in her stomach every time adoption was mentioned. Keeping her focus firmly on what Kathryn was saying, she squashed down her unease. She knew all too well that asking the right questions could sometimes crack a case wide open, or at least lead them down the right path for doing so.
"I know this next question may seem disrespectful, but I have to ask…did Ashley or Sean ever have any affairs? Were there any problems in the relationship that you knew about?"
Kathryn looked horrified and vehemently shook her head.
"No. No way. I mean, they had the occasional argument, but what couple doesn't? Neither of them would've cheated though. They got married last year and Sean just got a promotion a couple months ago. They only came back from Paris last week – they were celebrating their anniversary. They were happy. They loved each other and everyone loved them," she sighed, shoulders slumping, "You won't find anyone who had a grudge against either of them."
/ CS /
"Swan, you disappeared. 'ow many times do I have to ask you to tell me before you ditch?"
"Come here. Look at this."
Emma had indeed 'ditched' the crime scene as soon as Kathryn had disappeared inside her house. She had a hunch, and it couldn't wait. She'd long since learned to trust her gut when it came to her job, because her instincts rarely let her down. The smashed photograph of the baby had stuck with her, and she couldn't help but follow her suspicions, so she'd jumped straight into her car and headed back to the station.
Upon arriving, she'd headed straight to the back room, where Killian's FBI tech genius was stationed, surrounded by screens and typing a mile a minute. As Emma awkwardly tapped on the open door, the pretty brunette swung around in her chair, seemingly startled by the interruption.
"Uh…hi. I'm-"
"Detective Emma Swan. Yep. I know."
The woman smiled shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma silently wondered if having an accent was a pre-requisite for a job on Killian's team.
"I'm Belle. Tech girl. How can I help?"
Back to business, Emma relayed the cliffnotes version of the crime scene and her hunch about the smashed photograph being significant in some way. Belle nodded along, and once Emma was finished, she swung back around to face her computer screens.
"So, what would you like me to search for?"
"Uh…can you pull up the medical records and birth certificate of Ashley Boyd's baby? Find out when and where the baby was born, and if she's been adopted? If the baby isn't her husband's, we might be dealing with a pissed off biological father…"
Belle nodded as her hands flew elegantly across the keyboard. A few minutes later, the birth certificate for Alexandra Herman popped up on the screen. Sean was indeed listed as her father, but Emma had anticipated that. With one avenue ruled out, she moved on.
"Okay…can you see if either of the other victims had babies? Specifically if they gave babies up for adoption…"
Belle nodded once again and repeated her search with modified parameters. After a couple of minutes, with Emma attempting to follow Belle's quick movements between screens and failing miserably, Belle gave a low whistle and glanced at Emma with an impressed quirk of her eyebrows.
"Well…looks like you're onto something. All three women have had babies in the last five years. And all of them have given the babies up for adoption…"
Emma bit back a grin, her pulse quickening with adrenaline and pride. She loved when her hunches came through for her.
"Looks like we have a lead. Which adoption agencies did they use?"
A few more clicks and Belle stilled. When she spoke again, Emma couldn't quite believe her answer.
"They all used the same agency."
/ CS /
[Apologies for the delay, my muse does what she wants and runs on her own schedule! Thanks so much for the feedback and reviews you guys have given already for this fic. Reviews give me life and I always love to hear what you guys think!]