TITLE : Repercussions
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)
CATEGORY : Even though it might look otherwise, it's SBR all the way.
RATING : PG-13
SPOILERS : Probably
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY : An old flame returns in Bailey's life, forcing Sam to confront her feelings for him. But, these feelings could have dire consequences.
NOTES : This chapter is a little longer than usual, only because I love to write the mystery/solving of the case. So bear with me, if you can.
Cheers! Gomes.
--------------- Repercussions (pt.5 ) ---------------
Sam drove Bailey's car towards her house. «Screw being alone, it's better than seeing Bailey with someone else.» She slowed down a little, as it finally sunk it. «He'd made his decision - he's with someone else.» She sighed deeply, basking in his manly scent that seemed to have clung to the interior of the car. As she turned right, her home came into view. Suddenly, an array of red and blue lights alternately filled the now darkening evening. "What now?" Sam asked herself, as she dropped her head on the steering wheel. She watched in the rear-view mirror as a lone police car pulled up behind her. She pulled to the shoulder, throwing one last glance at her house. «So close . . . yet so far.» She mused, fed up with the over-used cliché.
The officer stepped out of his vehicle and walked slowly towards Sam's car. He tapped on the window with his club. "Evening ma'am." He said, and tipped his hat politely. "Can I see your license and registration, please?" He asked, and went about observing the car.
Sam's eyes grew wide. "Shit." She muttered under her breath. This wasn't her car. All of her credentials were at Bailey's house. "Shit shit shit." She repeated to herself, her hands gripping the steering wheel, making her knuckles turn a chalky white.
"Ma'am?" The officer leaned in.
Sam stared into his icy grey eyes. She observed his sharp face, and tufted mustache that seemed painfully out of place. "See, this isn't my car." Sam bit her lower lip.
"I see." The officer stood up straight and took out his pad of paper. "Do you have any identification?"
"No, but I live right up the street." Sam pointed to her house, but the officer didn't take his eyes of her; he didn't remove his cold stare from her face.
"Unh-huh." The officer said. He walked around the car and wrote down the license plate number, walked back to his vehicle and typed something in. He approached Sam, who was just staring straight ahead, her hands still on the steering wheel. "Are you related to a Bailey Malone?"
"No, well, I work for him and we're good friends." Sam started. "He let me borrow his car."
"Good friends." The officer repeated. "Look, ma'am, I'll let you go with a warning." Sam nodded thankfully. "I'll just need you to sign this paper."
He handed her a form and Sam took a little time to look it over. It was blank. «What, does he want my autograph?» She thought sarcastically to herself. She skimmed through the notebook, each page depicting a barren picture.
"Oh, and miss Waters, promise me you won't go home." The officer remarked, casually.
Sam nodded, her thoughts still on the notebook. Then, her eyes shot up. "Wait, how did you know my name?" She looked back up at the officer and a vacated spot stared back at her. Throwing the form on the seat beside her, she cautiously got out of the car and looked around. The cop car was still parked behind her and she ventured slowly towards it. Glancing inside, she saw a single red rose placed through the steering wheel. Sam stared at it, visions of Jack's hands on the steering wheel - following her from Bailey's house. Her thoughts were interrupted by the blaring intercom system in the car.
"Car 32, do you copy?" A scratchy female voice boomed.
Sam leaned in the car and picked up the receiver. "This is Samantha Waters of the VCTF division. Car 32 is safe, but there are no officers found." Sam proceeded to give the lady the coordinates, and walked back to Bailey's car, with the rose in hand. She delicately placed it on top of the notepad, and stayed in the vehicle until the police came to reclaim their car.
Sam eventually headed back to her house, but stayed parked in the driveway. Something was telling her not to be there alone. She waved a security guard. "Has anyone been by?" She asked. The guard shook his head. "Thanks." She smiled, and reversed out of the driveway. Right now, the only safe place was with Bailey, but she didn't dare show her face - not after what had happened. "The rejection." She muttered aloud. "This is going to be bloody awkward." She thought of the days, weeks, months, years to come. She found herself slowly inching towards the VCTF command center. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided she might as well review the notes on the case, to help her mind stray from the painful reality.
***
VCTF, Atlanta
Upon entering the building, Sam greeted the security officer. She got herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the conference table. Sam swiveled in Bailey's chair, reminiscing on how one's relationship can dissipate in mere seconds thanks to another one's entry. She glanced at the notepad, and headed for the lab. «What's blank to the rest of us, is a message from Jack.» She thought as she dimmed the lights and took out the black light. Shinning it over the notepad, Sam mechanically scribbled out the letters that appeared. When she reviewed it, she put her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Home isn't where the heart is, it's right beside it."
Sam couldn't figure out what that statement meant, but then again, when dealing with Jack, things were always vague. She was getting more and more frustrated at the seemingly dead-ends that kept slapping her in the face. «Perhaps some sleep is needed.» She thought to herself, eyeing the clock. Sam left the notebook there and went into Bailey's office. Leaving his desk light on, she curled up on his couch. She felt safe in his wake, almost feeling his presence. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, thinking about Jack's cryptic message.
***
Bailey's House, Atlanta
Bailey awoke and stretched lazily on his bed. He glanced over at the sleeping body beside him. After Sam had left, Liz had almost insisted that they 'make up for lost time', as she had discreetly put it. They spent the night giving in to their desires, and both finally drifted off, exhausted.
"Morning sunshine." Liz whispered in his ear. She kissed him aggressively on the lips, nipping at him. Liz sigh loudly. "I could wake up to you every morning." She said, draping her arm over his powerful chest. Her hand slid down to his sleeping member, and Bailey imagined it to be Sam's foot from the night before, gently caressing him. In seconds, his arousal sprung to life. "Ooh!" Liz cooed.
Bailey grabbed her by the wrist. "Let's wait until later." He said, and proceeded to get up. "I have work."
"Can't you call in sick?" Liz asked, opening the sheet to reveal her nakedness.
Bailey leaned on the bed and gave her a small peck on the lips. "Later."
Liz wrapped the sheet around her. "You're going back to *her*." She pouted.
Bailey dropped his head on his chest. He was tired of arguing with her, over his relationship with Sam. "Look, I told you - Sam is a very special person, but we're not involved."
"Okay okay, big boy." Liz conceded.
***
VCTF, Atlanta
Bailey stepped into the building and headed for his office. He noticed that the light was left on. Furrowing his brow, he quickened his pace. He popped his head into his office and scanned the room. "Sam." He mumbled softly. He leaned against the doorframe and observed her, drinking in her beauty. She felt something for him - something more than friends, that he was sure of. He approached her and knelt down beside the couch. She was still wearing Frannie's clothes: the baggy jogging pants and the tight mini-tee. She looked sexy and adorable all at once. Bailey watched her naked belly rise and descend with each breath taken, each breath of life he had sworn to protect. She had draped his jacket over her upper-torso and was currently clinging to it for dear life. Bailey placed a hand on her bare abdomen and gently shook her. "Sam." He whispered.
Sam turned around with a fright. Upon seeing Bailey, she pulled his jacket over her head. One, for being caught sleeping in his office, and two because she was so exhausted. "Ugh, what time is it?" She finally broke the silence.
Bailey was mesmerized by her beauty. Her ruffled up hair, her clear face free of make-up; she just seemed to have this natural glow that emanated deep from within, and Bailey found himself plunging head-first. He looked down at his hand, realizing that it was still on her stomach, but was now caressing her gently. He glanced up when a small moan escaped from Sam's lips. "Sam . . . " he whispered, feeling his heart race.
Sam looked deep into his coffee eyes and saw reflections of desire with a hint of love. «Maybe there's hope.» She thought. The two just stood, holding each other's gaze.
"Boss." John stood, both hands holding on to the door frame. His voice dripped with worry. Both Sam and Bailey looked at him. When John's eyes fell on Sam, relief washed over his face. All three looked at each other.
***
Samantha Waters's House, Atlanta
Several Atlanta PD cars were parked around the compound surrounding her house. A bright yellow tape had been wrapped around near the entrance. Sam gripped Bailey's jacket that she was still wearing. Bailey placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the chief. "What happened?" He asked.
"Two officers," he pointed to two men sitting in the back of an ambulance, "heard a loud bang from inside the house. They confirmed that no one was in it, for Miss Waters had stopped by the night before."
Sam nodded. "I just wanted to check if everything was okay because . . . " She trailed off when Bailey raised his eye-brow.
The chief officer hesitated, then continued. "The two officers went in to inspect, and it turned out that there was a carbon monoxide bomb in the house." All three looked at the building. "It's a good thing you didn't come home last night, or I'm afraid you wouldn't have survived." The officer continued off the agents' perplexed looks. "Carbon monoxide, as you know it, is weightless, odorless and colorless. You would have heard a loud bang, possibly from a box that was mailed to you, but by the time you would have realized this, it would have been too late. My men were only in there for less than two minutes and they came out with respiratory problems." The officer scratched his head. "I've never heard of a carbon monoxide bomb in a residential area before . . . "
Sam and Bailey exchanged looks. "Thank you for your time." Bailey shook the man's hand, then turned to Sam. "Why didn't you go home?"
"I didn't want to be alone." Sam answered quickly and started walking towards the car. "Let's go to work."
Bailey grabbed her wrist. "Obviously something spooked you, so what happened?"
Sam exhaled loudly out of frustration. "Jack happened again, okay? He was dressed as a police officer, in a stolen PD car. He advised me not to return home -"
" -it could have been a trap!" Bailey interjected. "You're safe at home."
"Look at it! Where do you think I would be if I'd been at home?" Sam said, close to tears. Everything was upside down and it was frustrating her to a point of tears. She was being stalked and trying to be killed by one, and the person who normally stalks her was slowly becoming an ally. "It just doesn't make sense!" Sam wiped her eyes.
Bailey pulled her into a hug, trying to fight away the demons that haunted her. "You should have stayed with me . . . " He mumbled in her hair. "I would have protected you. I'll always protect you."
Sam pushed back a little. "You barely acknowledge my existence when Liz is around. How do you expect to protect me when I'm invisible?" Sam yelled.
"This has nothing to do with Liz!" Bailey raised his voice too.
"It does. You know how I feel about it, and it has everything to do with her." Sam closed her eyes, and let out a defeated breath. "It doesn't matter anymore, let's just go back to the VCTF." When Bailey hesitated, Sam pressed on. "Should we continue to stare at my house? They sent in some officers that deal with biochemistry, and it'll take a few weeks to completely air out the house."
Bailey sighed and followed Sam to the car. They drove to the VCTF in silence.
***
VCTF, Atlanta
Once there, Bailey handed her yesterday's suit. "It's clean." Sam smiled a thank you, and left to change. Bailey went into his office and lay down on his couch, exactly where Sam had been lying. He reveled in her soft scent, until his eyelids threatened to close. Glancing towards the conference room, he noticed that most of the members had already gathered.
"Okay, what do we have for the Jepson's case?" Bailey asked, taking a seat.
"I did some research, to see if there had been some similar cases." George said, hunched over his computer. "So far, there have been four, all close to this area."
"Let's hear them." Bailey said, taking out a notepad. Sam stared at it, then remembered the one Jack had left behind. She made a mental note to look it over later.
George flipped the switch and four bodies where projected on the screen. "The victims, in alphabetical order are, Jenny Baker; Kelly Green; Phillip Gunter and finally Vicky Hill." George stared at his screen. "Funny enough, it's categorized by date of death." He looked up and shrugged at the weird coincidence.
"Sam, did you pick up anything?" Bailey asked, casting his eyes towards her.
Sam didn't meet his gaze. "When I was in the woods, I just received these weird images of a heart. One being broken. So my first suspicion would be jealous ex-lover, or even current. Someone who, maybe got hurt." Sam looked at George. "Could you put the Jepson picture up, please?" George nodded. Sam stood up and walked to the screen. "Obviously, there's a lot of hatred towards this woman." She pointed to the bruises on her face and arms. Sam narrowed her eyes. "George? Can you zoom in here?" She pointed to a part on the victim's neck. George did, and Sam pointed to a reddish dot. "I think she was drugged first - incapacitated, thus enable to put up a fight." Images of Marta semi-struggling against her aggressor flashed through Sam's mind.
"What about burying her?" John interrupted. "Is it maybe a symbolism - burial ritual."
"Like her grave?" Grace added, stepping into the conference room with some papers in hand.
Sam pondered. "It seems as if it portrays something more than the obvious, something . . . deeper?"
"Than six feet?" John joked. His grin faded fast when Bailey cast him a disapproving look.
"What did you get on the autopsy, Gracie?" Bailey turned towards her.
"Well," she placed an acetate on the projector, "this is Marta Jepson when we dug her up." All looked at the picture of a 30-something, brown haired woman. She was casually clothed: dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "She studied at Quantico, in Forensic Science. Took a few side courses in Profiling as well." Grace looked towards Bailey. "In your class, I do believe."
Bailey shrugged. "The name seemed familiar, but I don't remember her face. But then again, I've had so many students before . . . " Bailey trailed off.
"She was very shy." Sam sat back in her seat. "We studied once together, and she never made eye contact." Sam tapped her fingers lightly on the table. "Highly educated woman, she also took a few field classes." Sam smiled sadly. "One thing she said, and I guess it stuck with me, was that she wanted to make a difference in the world - but not just one." Sam looked back at the picture. "She wanted to experience everything, that's why she jumped from profession to profession."
"And last but not least, she became a victim and dinner for maggots and worms." Bailey muttered morosely.
"You could say that she had baited breath, hunh?" John cracked. The team just shook their head.
"Anyway." Grace continued, ignoring John. "So, we took her for the autopsy, right? We unclothed her and prepared for the incision from the top of the neck to the bottom of the abdomen. This allows us access to her liver, stomach, intestine . . . essentially all the major organs that could clue us in to anything ingested."
"Sam thinks that she may have been drugged - administered something by force." Bailey added.
"That's what we found, actually." Graced thumbed through her papers. "There was a strong anesthetic that was injected in her blood stream." Grace placed another picture on the projector. "But that's not what bothered me." She showed the team a picture of a woman with a sowed incision in her chest. "This is Marta, before we got the chance to do an autopsy."
"Maybe she had a previous operation?" John asked.
"I've checked the medical records, and the only operation she had was to get her appendix out." George said, looking through some of his printouts.
"So unless the appendix took a road trip to visit the heart, this woman had already been cut open." Grace shook her head. "But that's still not the end." Bailey raised his eyebrow. "She didn't have a heart."
"You mean, she was cruel?" John asked.
"No, I mean literally, she didn't have a heart." Grace shrugged, unable to provide any a reasonable meaning.
Sam bit her lip. "Can you find out if Marta had an ex, a husband, a close friend . . . " Sam asked George.
"You think that, to signify the pain that the killer went through, he took out her heart, sowed her back together and then buried her?" Bailey asked.
"I think it's different . . . it's more complex." Sam said, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "George, tell me about the others."
"Okay, Jenny Baker. 40 year-old mother, she recently graduated from . . . Quantico." George looked up. "Coincidence?" He said aloud. He typed a little more. "They were all agents, or agents in training." He finally said. "Kelly Green, 25, was an intern for the CIA. Her body was found near Arizona, in a forest." George typed some more. "Gunter, 37 year old detective for Atlanta PD. Did a lot of undercover work. His body was found here, in the same woods."
Bailey chewed on his lower lip. These names were so familiar, and the fact that they all studied at Quantico was slowly confirming his fearful suspicions.
"Finally, Vicky Hill. 42 year old, secretary for the Washington PD. Her body was also dug up from the woods."
The team was silent. Though there was no variation in the value of a human life, things seemed different when it was one of their own. "We will get to the bottom of this." Bailey finally said, through clenched teeth. "John, find out a close relative of Marta's. Sam, go talk to anyone who knows Philip Gunter. I'll take Kelly Green's relatives and George, I need you to get information on Vicky Hill." Bailey stood up and looked at his team. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. He left silently and went to his office.
John eyed Sam. "What was that about?"
"What makes you think I know?" Sam asked, gathering her papers.
"C'mon, you know everything about Bailey and Bailey knows everything about you . . . it's just natural to assume that you know what's wrong with him."
"Well, you can ask Liz -" Sam said closing the folder.
John put his hand on the folder. "Woah, who's Liz?"
"His new girlfriend. Apparently, she taught with him at Quantico . . . and let's just say that they did more than just *teach* together." Sam said flatly.
"And you're not okay with him having a girlfriend." John said slowly. He knew there was something going on between Sam and Bailey, but neither would admit it. Maybe now would be his chance.
Sam paused and stared at John. "I have an interview to do, excuse me." She yanked the files and left the conference room.
John sighed. It wasn't his job to play Cupid, but curiosity got the best of him. He ventured towards Bailey's office. "Bailey? What's going on with you and Sam?" John decided at the last minute, that the straight forward approach would best suit this situation.
Bailey didn't even bother to look up. "Don't you have work to do?" He said, taking a puff of his cigar while looking over some files.
"Who's Liz?" John sat down on the couch.
Bailey rested his cigar in the ashtray. "This doesn't concern you, John."
"Sam's upset about it."
"But it doesn't concern you." Bailey snapped. "Look, it's really complicated at the moment, and I worry why neither you, nor Sam, nor anyone else here trusts me."
John shrugged and left the room silently. Bailey just returned to his files. He made a quick phone call and scheduled a meeting with Vicky Hill's sister. He hoped she could supply a little information that would put his mind at ease concerning the murders of these agents. «All Quantico students . . . all of them were my students . . . » He was troubled as to what the team would think when they find out.
--TBC--
AUTHOR : Karen Gomes (pyrie@hotmail.com)
CATEGORY : Even though it might look otherwise, it's SBR all the way.
RATING : PG-13
SPOILERS : Probably
DISCLAIMER : All of the known characters/premises/plots belong to their respective owners. So there.
SUMMARY : An old flame returns in Bailey's life, forcing Sam to confront her feelings for him. But, these feelings could have dire consequences.
NOTES : This chapter is a little longer than usual, only because I love to write the mystery/solving of the case. So bear with me, if you can.
Cheers! Gomes.
--------------- Repercussions (pt.5 ) ---------------
Sam drove Bailey's car towards her house. «Screw being alone, it's better than seeing Bailey with someone else.» She slowed down a little, as it finally sunk it. «He'd made his decision - he's with someone else.» She sighed deeply, basking in his manly scent that seemed to have clung to the interior of the car. As she turned right, her home came into view. Suddenly, an array of red and blue lights alternately filled the now darkening evening. "What now?" Sam asked herself, as she dropped her head on the steering wheel. She watched in the rear-view mirror as a lone police car pulled up behind her. She pulled to the shoulder, throwing one last glance at her house. «So close . . . yet so far.» She mused, fed up with the over-used cliché.
The officer stepped out of his vehicle and walked slowly towards Sam's car. He tapped on the window with his club. "Evening ma'am." He said, and tipped his hat politely. "Can I see your license and registration, please?" He asked, and went about observing the car.
Sam's eyes grew wide. "Shit." She muttered under her breath. This wasn't her car. All of her credentials were at Bailey's house. "Shit shit shit." She repeated to herself, her hands gripping the steering wheel, making her knuckles turn a chalky white.
"Ma'am?" The officer leaned in.
Sam stared into his icy grey eyes. She observed his sharp face, and tufted mustache that seemed painfully out of place. "See, this isn't my car." Sam bit her lower lip.
"I see." The officer stood up straight and took out his pad of paper. "Do you have any identification?"
"No, but I live right up the street." Sam pointed to her house, but the officer didn't take his eyes of her; he didn't remove his cold stare from her face.
"Unh-huh." The officer said. He walked around the car and wrote down the license plate number, walked back to his vehicle and typed something in. He approached Sam, who was just staring straight ahead, her hands still on the steering wheel. "Are you related to a Bailey Malone?"
"No, well, I work for him and we're good friends." Sam started. "He let me borrow his car."
"Good friends." The officer repeated. "Look, ma'am, I'll let you go with a warning." Sam nodded thankfully. "I'll just need you to sign this paper."
He handed her a form and Sam took a little time to look it over. It was blank. «What, does he want my autograph?» She thought sarcastically to herself. She skimmed through the notebook, each page depicting a barren picture.
"Oh, and miss Waters, promise me you won't go home." The officer remarked, casually.
Sam nodded, her thoughts still on the notebook. Then, her eyes shot up. "Wait, how did you know my name?" She looked back up at the officer and a vacated spot stared back at her. Throwing the form on the seat beside her, she cautiously got out of the car and looked around. The cop car was still parked behind her and she ventured slowly towards it. Glancing inside, she saw a single red rose placed through the steering wheel. Sam stared at it, visions of Jack's hands on the steering wheel - following her from Bailey's house. Her thoughts were interrupted by the blaring intercom system in the car.
"Car 32, do you copy?" A scratchy female voice boomed.
Sam leaned in the car and picked up the receiver. "This is Samantha Waters of the VCTF division. Car 32 is safe, but there are no officers found." Sam proceeded to give the lady the coordinates, and walked back to Bailey's car, with the rose in hand. She delicately placed it on top of the notepad, and stayed in the vehicle until the police came to reclaim their car.
Sam eventually headed back to her house, but stayed parked in the driveway. Something was telling her not to be there alone. She waved a security guard. "Has anyone been by?" She asked. The guard shook his head. "Thanks." She smiled, and reversed out of the driveway. Right now, the only safe place was with Bailey, but she didn't dare show her face - not after what had happened. "The rejection." She muttered aloud. "This is going to be bloody awkward." She thought of the days, weeks, months, years to come. She found herself slowly inching towards the VCTF command center. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided she might as well review the notes on the case, to help her mind stray from the painful reality.
***
VCTF, Atlanta
Upon entering the building, Sam greeted the security officer. She got herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the conference table. Sam swiveled in Bailey's chair, reminiscing on how one's relationship can dissipate in mere seconds thanks to another one's entry. She glanced at the notepad, and headed for the lab. «What's blank to the rest of us, is a message from Jack.» She thought as she dimmed the lights and took out the black light. Shinning it over the notepad, Sam mechanically scribbled out the letters that appeared. When she reviewed it, she put her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Home isn't where the heart is, it's right beside it."
Sam couldn't figure out what that statement meant, but then again, when dealing with Jack, things were always vague. She was getting more and more frustrated at the seemingly dead-ends that kept slapping her in the face. «Perhaps some sleep is needed.» She thought to herself, eyeing the clock. Sam left the notebook there and went into Bailey's office. Leaving his desk light on, she curled up on his couch. She felt safe in his wake, almost feeling his presence. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, thinking about Jack's cryptic message.
***
Bailey's House, Atlanta
Bailey awoke and stretched lazily on his bed. He glanced over at the sleeping body beside him. After Sam had left, Liz had almost insisted that they 'make up for lost time', as she had discreetly put it. They spent the night giving in to their desires, and both finally drifted off, exhausted.
"Morning sunshine." Liz whispered in his ear. She kissed him aggressively on the lips, nipping at him. Liz sigh loudly. "I could wake up to you every morning." She said, draping her arm over his powerful chest. Her hand slid down to his sleeping member, and Bailey imagined it to be Sam's foot from the night before, gently caressing him. In seconds, his arousal sprung to life. "Ooh!" Liz cooed.
Bailey grabbed her by the wrist. "Let's wait until later." He said, and proceeded to get up. "I have work."
"Can't you call in sick?" Liz asked, opening the sheet to reveal her nakedness.
Bailey leaned on the bed and gave her a small peck on the lips. "Later."
Liz wrapped the sheet around her. "You're going back to *her*." She pouted.
Bailey dropped his head on his chest. He was tired of arguing with her, over his relationship with Sam. "Look, I told you - Sam is a very special person, but we're not involved."
"Okay okay, big boy." Liz conceded.
***
VCTF, Atlanta
Bailey stepped into the building and headed for his office. He noticed that the light was left on. Furrowing his brow, he quickened his pace. He popped his head into his office and scanned the room. "Sam." He mumbled softly. He leaned against the doorframe and observed her, drinking in her beauty. She felt something for him - something more than friends, that he was sure of. He approached her and knelt down beside the couch. She was still wearing Frannie's clothes: the baggy jogging pants and the tight mini-tee. She looked sexy and adorable all at once. Bailey watched her naked belly rise and descend with each breath taken, each breath of life he had sworn to protect. She had draped his jacket over her upper-torso and was currently clinging to it for dear life. Bailey placed a hand on her bare abdomen and gently shook her. "Sam." He whispered.
Sam turned around with a fright. Upon seeing Bailey, she pulled his jacket over her head. One, for being caught sleeping in his office, and two because she was so exhausted. "Ugh, what time is it?" She finally broke the silence.
Bailey was mesmerized by her beauty. Her ruffled up hair, her clear face free of make-up; she just seemed to have this natural glow that emanated deep from within, and Bailey found himself plunging head-first. He looked down at his hand, realizing that it was still on her stomach, but was now caressing her gently. He glanced up when a small moan escaped from Sam's lips. "Sam . . . " he whispered, feeling his heart race.
Sam looked deep into his coffee eyes and saw reflections of desire with a hint of love. «Maybe there's hope.» She thought. The two just stood, holding each other's gaze.
"Boss." John stood, both hands holding on to the door frame. His voice dripped with worry. Both Sam and Bailey looked at him. When John's eyes fell on Sam, relief washed over his face. All three looked at each other.
***
Samantha Waters's House, Atlanta
Several Atlanta PD cars were parked around the compound surrounding her house. A bright yellow tape had been wrapped around near the entrance. Sam gripped Bailey's jacket that she was still wearing. Bailey placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the chief. "What happened?" He asked.
"Two officers," he pointed to two men sitting in the back of an ambulance, "heard a loud bang from inside the house. They confirmed that no one was in it, for Miss Waters had stopped by the night before."
Sam nodded. "I just wanted to check if everything was okay because . . . " She trailed off when Bailey raised his eye-brow.
The chief officer hesitated, then continued. "The two officers went in to inspect, and it turned out that there was a carbon monoxide bomb in the house." All three looked at the building. "It's a good thing you didn't come home last night, or I'm afraid you wouldn't have survived." The officer continued off the agents' perplexed looks. "Carbon monoxide, as you know it, is weightless, odorless and colorless. You would have heard a loud bang, possibly from a box that was mailed to you, but by the time you would have realized this, it would have been too late. My men were only in there for less than two minutes and they came out with respiratory problems." The officer scratched his head. "I've never heard of a carbon monoxide bomb in a residential area before . . . "
Sam and Bailey exchanged looks. "Thank you for your time." Bailey shook the man's hand, then turned to Sam. "Why didn't you go home?"
"I didn't want to be alone." Sam answered quickly and started walking towards the car. "Let's go to work."
Bailey grabbed her wrist. "Obviously something spooked you, so what happened?"
Sam exhaled loudly out of frustration. "Jack happened again, okay? He was dressed as a police officer, in a stolen PD car. He advised me not to return home -"
" -it could have been a trap!" Bailey interjected. "You're safe at home."
"Look at it! Where do you think I would be if I'd been at home?" Sam said, close to tears. Everything was upside down and it was frustrating her to a point of tears. She was being stalked and trying to be killed by one, and the person who normally stalks her was slowly becoming an ally. "It just doesn't make sense!" Sam wiped her eyes.
Bailey pulled her into a hug, trying to fight away the demons that haunted her. "You should have stayed with me . . . " He mumbled in her hair. "I would have protected you. I'll always protect you."
Sam pushed back a little. "You barely acknowledge my existence when Liz is around. How do you expect to protect me when I'm invisible?" Sam yelled.
"This has nothing to do with Liz!" Bailey raised his voice too.
"It does. You know how I feel about it, and it has everything to do with her." Sam closed her eyes, and let out a defeated breath. "It doesn't matter anymore, let's just go back to the VCTF." When Bailey hesitated, Sam pressed on. "Should we continue to stare at my house? They sent in some officers that deal with biochemistry, and it'll take a few weeks to completely air out the house."
Bailey sighed and followed Sam to the car. They drove to the VCTF in silence.
***
VCTF, Atlanta
Once there, Bailey handed her yesterday's suit. "It's clean." Sam smiled a thank you, and left to change. Bailey went into his office and lay down on his couch, exactly where Sam had been lying. He reveled in her soft scent, until his eyelids threatened to close. Glancing towards the conference room, he noticed that most of the members had already gathered.
"Okay, what do we have for the Jepson's case?" Bailey asked, taking a seat.
"I did some research, to see if there had been some similar cases." George said, hunched over his computer. "So far, there have been four, all close to this area."
"Let's hear them." Bailey said, taking out a notepad. Sam stared at it, then remembered the one Jack had left behind. She made a mental note to look it over later.
George flipped the switch and four bodies where projected on the screen. "The victims, in alphabetical order are, Jenny Baker; Kelly Green; Phillip Gunter and finally Vicky Hill." George stared at his screen. "Funny enough, it's categorized by date of death." He looked up and shrugged at the weird coincidence.
"Sam, did you pick up anything?" Bailey asked, casting his eyes towards her.
Sam didn't meet his gaze. "When I was in the woods, I just received these weird images of a heart. One being broken. So my first suspicion would be jealous ex-lover, or even current. Someone who, maybe got hurt." Sam looked at George. "Could you put the Jepson picture up, please?" George nodded. Sam stood up and walked to the screen. "Obviously, there's a lot of hatred towards this woman." She pointed to the bruises on her face and arms. Sam narrowed her eyes. "George? Can you zoom in here?" She pointed to a part on the victim's neck. George did, and Sam pointed to a reddish dot. "I think she was drugged first - incapacitated, thus enable to put up a fight." Images of Marta semi-struggling against her aggressor flashed through Sam's mind.
"What about burying her?" John interrupted. "Is it maybe a symbolism - burial ritual."
"Like her grave?" Grace added, stepping into the conference room with some papers in hand.
Sam pondered. "It seems as if it portrays something more than the obvious, something . . . deeper?"
"Than six feet?" John joked. His grin faded fast when Bailey cast him a disapproving look.
"What did you get on the autopsy, Gracie?" Bailey turned towards her.
"Well," she placed an acetate on the projector, "this is Marta Jepson when we dug her up." All looked at the picture of a 30-something, brown haired woman. She was casually clothed: dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "She studied at Quantico, in Forensic Science. Took a few side courses in Profiling as well." Grace looked towards Bailey. "In your class, I do believe."
Bailey shrugged. "The name seemed familiar, but I don't remember her face. But then again, I've had so many students before . . . " Bailey trailed off.
"She was very shy." Sam sat back in her seat. "We studied once together, and she never made eye contact." Sam tapped her fingers lightly on the table. "Highly educated woman, she also took a few field classes." Sam smiled sadly. "One thing she said, and I guess it stuck with me, was that she wanted to make a difference in the world - but not just one." Sam looked back at the picture. "She wanted to experience everything, that's why she jumped from profession to profession."
"And last but not least, she became a victim and dinner for maggots and worms." Bailey muttered morosely.
"You could say that she had baited breath, hunh?" John cracked. The team just shook their head.
"Anyway." Grace continued, ignoring John. "So, we took her for the autopsy, right? We unclothed her and prepared for the incision from the top of the neck to the bottom of the abdomen. This allows us access to her liver, stomach, intestine . . . essentially all the major organs that could clue us in to anything ingested."
"Sam thinks that she may have been drugged - administered something by force." Bailey added.
"That's what we found, actually." Graced thumbed through her papers. "There was a strong anesthetic that was injected in her blood stream." Grace placed another picture on the projector. "But that's not what bothered me." She showed the team a picture of a woman with a sowed incision in her chest. "This is Marta, before we got the chance to do an autopsy."
"Maybe she had a previous operation?" John asked.
"I've checked the medical records, and the only operation she had was to get her appendix out." George said, looking through some of his printouts.
"So unless the appendix took a road trip to visit the heart, this woman had already been cut open." Grace shook her head. "But that's still not the end." Bailey raised his eyebrow. "She didn't have a heart."
"You mean, she was cruel?" John asked.
"No, I mean literally, she didn't have a heart." Grace shrugged, unable to provide any a reasonable meaning.
Sam bit her lip. "Can you find out if Marta had an ex, a husband, a close friend . . . " Sam asked George.
"You think that, to signify the pain that the killer went through, he took out her heart, sowed her back together and then buried her?" Bailey asked.
"I think it's different . . . it's more complex." Sam said, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "George, tell me about the others."
"Okay, Jenny Baker. 40 year-old mother, she recently graduated from . . . Quantico." George looked up. "Coincidence?" He said aloud. He typed a little more. "They were all agents, or agents in training." He finally said. "Kelly Green, 25, was an intern for the CIA. Her body was found near Arizona, in a forest." George typed some more. "Gunter, 37 year old detective for Atlanta PD. Did a lot of undercover work. His body was found here, in the same woods."
Bailey chewed on his lower lip. These names were so familiar, and the fact that they all studied at Quantico was slowly confirming his fearful suspicions.
"Finally, Vicky Hill. 42 year old, secretary for the Washington PD. Her body was also dug up from the woods."
The team was silent. Though there was no variation in the value of a human life, things seemed different when it was one of their own. "We will get to the bottom of this." Bailey finally said, through clenched teeth. "John, find out a close relative of Marta's. Sam, go talk to anyone who knows Philip Gunter. I'll take Kelly Green's relatives and George, I need you to get information on Vicky Hill." Bailey stood up and looked at his team. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. He left silently and went to his office.
John eyed Sam. "What was that about?"
"What makes you think I know?" Sam asked, gathering her papers.
"C'mon, you know everything about Bailey and Bailey knows everything about you . . . it's just natural to assume that you know what's wrong with him."
"Well, you can ask Liz -" Sam said closing the folder.
John put his hand on the folder. "Woah, who's Liz?"
"His new girlfriend. Apparently, she taught with him at Quantico . . . and let's just say that they did more than just *teach* together." Sam said flatly.
"And you're not okay with him having a girlfriend." John said slowly. He knew there was something going on between Sam and Bailey, but neither would admit it. Maybe now would be his chance.
Sam paused and stared at John. "I have an interview to do, excuse me." She yanked the files and left the conference room.
John sighed. It wasn't his job to play Cupid, but curiosity got the best of him. He ventured towards Bailey's office. "Bailey? What's going on with you and Sam?" John decided at the last minute, that the straight forward approach would best suit this situation.
Bailey didn't even bother to look up. "Don't you have work to do?" He said, taking a puff of his cigar while looking over some files.
"Who's Liz?" John sat down on the couch.
Bailey rested his cigar in the ashtray. "This doesn't concern you, John."
"Sam's upset about it."
"But it doesn't concern you." Bailey snapped. "Look, it's really complicated at the moment, and I worry why neither you, nor Sam, nor anyone else here trusts me."
John shrugged and left the room silently. Bailey just returned to his files. He made a quick phone call and scheduled a meeting with Vicky Hill's sister. He hoped she could supply a little information that would put his mind at ease concerning the murders of these agents. «All Quantico students . . . all of them were my students . . . » He was troubled as to what the team would think when they find out.
--TBC--