BLOWN COVER
There weren't many assignments Alex thought boring. However, this one beat the band, oh yes it did. She knew that Cody, Monica, and Donovan were monitoring the situation from their stations, but there really wasn't much to see or hear. Mostly, she sat outside Reed's faculty house and kept watch. Of course, her persona of a harried student fit her 'real' job perfectly. She sat out at a small picnic table no more than five or six feet from faculty housing. Both she and Jake had been versed on Dannon's physical and mental profile. If he passed by her, there was no way in hell she could miss him. She kept a sharp eye out, because according to the stuff Monica had dug up, he was a tricky little bastard. Acting as if she was stretching and taking a break, Alex looked up, yawning and flexing her arms and legs in an almost exaggerated way. The light was just beginning to fade and dusk was only a few moments away. She wouldn't be able to keep up the façade much longer. She would basically have to go into stealth mode. Shit. She wanted this assignment over and done with for God's sake. As she stared off into the distance toward Reed's house, she saw something a bit odd. An older woman strolled not far from her. Alex wasn't sure what drew her attention to this woman, but something had struck her. She shrugged it off. Damn, girl. You are losing your mind.
* * *
Dannon crept across the quad toward the construction zone. He thought that both Reed and Föderativ lived close together. Who should he pick first? Choices choices. Day by day, Dannon was growing more and more paranoid. He sensed eyes watching him around every corner. Surely everyone knew what he had done. Who was watching him? The FBI? CIA? God help him. He had work to do and needed to get it done. Why couldn't they understand that? In fact, he was so paranoid that when he went out at night [or in the day], he tended to dress differently to detract the eyes of those watching him. Tonight, he was dressed up as a matronly woman. No one would ever suspect him.
* * *
Jack Reed was utterly exhausted. He had spent a good portion of his day in the office grading horrendous term papers and examinations. His field of expertise was statistics [his students often referring to it as 'sadistics'], and he didn't enjoy reading papers written by less than intelligent students. He wasn't a man who tolerated mediocrity in the classroom. He hadn't wanted to take the position at Mord. He considered it a second-class school. He had preferred teaching at a more prestigious college. Sam Houston in Texas came immediately to mind. However, they were as selective with instructors as they were students. Maybe in a few years when his teeth were firmly sunk into the tough bitch known as experience, Sam Houston would come calling. He absolutely could not wait for that day. In the meantime, he would continue to work at Mord until his ship came in. What a cliché. Reed moved through his darkened living room and headed straight for the wet bar at the far end of the room. He had a strong hankering for brandy. If he could take a little nip, he might be able to relax. He leaned down and opened the door to the cabinet. He dug around inside until he grew impatient. Each bottle he looked at was not his brandy. Where the hell was his fucking brandy? Sighing in aggravation, he grabbed the bottle nearest to his groping hand. Wine. It wasn't exactly brandy, but it would do. He carried the bottle into the kitchen so he could dig out a glass. He hated drinking wine without its being chilled, but he really had no choice. He needed a drink, and he wasn't about to wait for it to be chilled. After digging a wine glass out of the overhead cabinet, he poured the liquid into it with a shaky hand. He brought the glass up to his lips [his hand still shaky] and he took a drink. It immediately soothed him and he carried it back toward the living room. He kicked back on the sofa with his wine and he propped his feet up on the table. He wanted to nap, but if he slept now, he wouldn't sleep tonight.
Everything at Mord had been weird since the murders. It didn't escape him that the killer seemed to be taking them out one by one. He was also aware that he was in line with that. Funny thing was, he didn't understand why a student had been murdered. How was she tied to them? Of course, he was worried, but then again, he was like other people close to his age. He was invincible and free from his own mortality. Nothing could ever happen to him. It would happen to someone else. He sipped his wine and a soft smile played on his lips. Perhaps the killer could target Donovan next. She could probably bore the guy to death before he could kill her, rambling as much as she did. Damn could that woman talk. Most of her students complained that she was very long-winded and wasn't apt to let them out of her classes early. It wasn't that Donovan was a bad sort, but he couldn't stand people who yammered constantly. He had also noticed that the new guy [what was his name again…] seemed a bit cold toward her as well. However, there was an incident that made him wonder. He had made some dumb ass comment about her, and the new guy had stiffened just the slightest bit. Hmm…very interesting development. Did the new guy have a thing for her maybe? He shook his head. No, couldn't be. Donovan didn't seem the slightest bit interested in him, nor did he her. God, why do I care anyway? It wasn't his fucking problem. He was tired of getting swamped and sidetracked because of these murders. It wasn't fair and he didn't like the extra workload. He hadn't signed on for this shit. No way, man. As soon as this semester was over, he thought he might bail out. Teaching at a community college was better than this shit. Releasing another deep sigh, he drained his glass and set it aside. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the soft cushions of his sofa. Perhaps a fifteen-minute nap wouldn't hurt.
Dannon cursed under his breath. Reed wasn't as stupid as the others. He was a bit more paranoid [a pattern here…wonderful] than the rest, and he tended to lock his doors and windows. Reed was quite the meticulous man, wasn't he? Ah ha. He wasn't that meticulous. There was a back window open. Lifting his skirt [and giggling while doing it], he raised the window and climbed through. He was in a back bedroom and the living room was toward the front of the house. Most of the faculty houses were identical and it didn't take long for him to find Reed, who was completely passed out on the couch. He eyed a bottle of wine sitting on the counter. It wasn't quite half empty. He reached over and grabbed the cap [cheap fucker]. He screwed it back on the bottle and picked it up by the neck. It had a bit of heft. It wasn't as nice as the thin log, but it might just do. He held his breath and hoped his luck would continue to hold out. Stealthily, he slipped into the living room. Thank God the floor was carpeted. Reed hadn't moved a muscle. It was funny, really. Hadn't he taken out Fehr in much the same way? What was it about sleeping people that made them so easy to kill? Incredible. He reared back and swung down. The bottle connected solidly with the top of Reed's skull. THUNK. The bottle didn't break. Reed's tastes were cheap, but the damn wine company made fucking strong bottles. He swung again, and again, and again.
* * *
Donovan paced the small space in the living room repeatedly. He felt as out of sorts as his wife, but couldn't put his finger on it. He had heard very little from Jake and Alex to concern him. He wasn't sure he liked that. It wasn't that he wanted another person to die, but damn it, he was getting tired of trying to second-guess a psychotic ex-professor. This man could not be sophisticated enough to get past five fucking federal agents. However, he was afraid that was exactly what was happening before his very eyes. After his and Loralei's discussion in the library carrel, she had been avoiding Dannon. Thus far, he had not approached her at school, but he was afraid it was his next step. He somehow knew that Dannon was onto them and he was purposely avoiding the department. Loralei knew Dannon, and it wouldn't take long for her to alert Donovan to his presence. Sneaky son-of-a-bitch. His patience was wearing thin. He stopped pacing for the briefest of moments as he considered an idea. What if they set up Dannon at the library? Perhaps have Loralei go in and draw him out. Goddamn. Bad idea. What the hell are you thinking, Donovan? What good would it do? Jesus. It was the waiting, the separation, the endless nights worrying his ass off. How many more nights would he and his family have to endure this? Vacation. Oh yes. Just the kids and us. Getting out of here, getting away from this craziness, even if it's just one week. He began pacing again, purposely avoiding the marred coffee table. He had already banged his shin on the fucking thing a dozen times. With each pass he made, he glanced at his work cell phone. He wanted to call her, to ensure that she was okay. Although Loralei had fought against the idea, he had insisted that she ask Kara to stay with her and the children at night. Every once in a while, Farron dropped in on them, spending a night here and there. He would worry despite anything, but at least she wasn't alone and defenseless. Of course, Loralei had taken offense, but not much. She didn't like the idea of staying alone, either. Besides, he knew she had come to rely on their sister in-law for emotional support. Alex couldn't be there for her for obvious reasons.
He had barked about fifty commands in rapid succession to his team. Cody and Monica were stationed off campus. Alex was babysitting Reed and Jake had Zimmerman. They each reported nothing. It was silent and calm. Shit. Why was he barking at his team? Was it necessarily their fault he was separated from his wife? Goddamn goddamn. Earlier, he had had another conversation with Shoemaker. Actually, it was more of a bitch fest. That was becoming quite the theme with the man lately, wasn't it? He had again been tempted to tell Shoemaker to fuck off, but he bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't piss Shoemaker off just yet. He didn't want to give the prick an excuse to pull the team out. If they were pulled out, he couldn't imagine what would happen to his sanity. He simply wanted to find Dannon, yank him up, and beat the truth out of him. He was literally losing his mind along with his patience. Like a crazed animal, he stopped pacing again. He stared at his cell phone. His hand ached to touch it, as much as it ached to touch his wife. Fuck it. He had to hear her voice. He stalked over to the end table and grabbed the phone. Impatiently, he snapped it open and stabbed out his home phone number. He gritted his teeth and groaned in frustration as he listened to the steady busy signal. Who the hell was she talking to? He needed desperately to hear her voice, but the phone was busy. He allowed an angered growl to leave his throat as he snapped the phone closed and tossed it back on the end table. In a way, the busy signal was more of a blessing. He wasn't risking her life if he couldn't talk to her, but damn it, he needed her, and he wasn't sure he could wait to see her in the morning.
* * *
Although extremely distracted by the thoughts rapidly growing inside her, Kara was concerned about Loralei. She had grown distant, nearly sullen. After she tended to the children, Loralei curled up on the couch with a book. There was no way in hell she could read, not with her mind on her husband. She morbidly wondered when his time would come up and if he could get away from the maniac. She was tempted to reach over and call Donovan on his work phone, but he would frown on that. She couldn't tolerate another snapping fight with her husband. She didn't have the heart for it. They hadn't said much to each other since their brief argument in the carrel. It was too risky. She kept a disgusted stance at work from "Mittel" and it was extremely difficult. She glanced up and over at the phone. She had no desire to speak to anyone tonight. She sat up only long enough to knock the phone off the hook. She had no idea that Donovan would try to call her. He wouldn't break cover, wouldn't put her at an unnecessarily risk.
Kara was a dear, and Loralei genuinely loved her new sister in-law, but she couldn't help but feel just a bit of irritation at her presence. She understood why Donovan insisted on her having a bodyguard of sorts, but when she was in a mood as she was tonight, it was best to back off and let her stew. However, she couldn't quite send Kara away, either. She also needed the company, the comfort. She had yet to shake her thoughts. Every day, she expected to hear that Donovan had been victimized. It didn't matter to her that he was a federal agent with a team to back him up. How long would it take to end his life? Her husband was a fighter, and he'd kick serious ass before giving up, but he wasn't Superman. He was mortal. Kara made a small noise in her throat, bringing Loralei out of her reverie. She smiled up at her sister in-law. Bless her heart. She had made tea. There was little else she could do for Loralei other than drag her husband home, and she couldn't quite do that. Loralei took the cup from Kara's hand and nodded her way. She wasn't sure she could even vocalize.
"Why don't you take that upstairs," Kara suggested, "You're exhausted. Don't worry about the babies. I can handle them both."
Loralei smiled a little. "I'd feel as guilty as hell, Kara. I'm warning you, those children have strong lungs." With that said, she burst into tears.
Kara sighed sympathetically and took the cup out of Loralei's hand, setting it aside. She sat beside her sister in-law and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I can't imagine what's going through your mind right now, and I wish I could do something more. I feel a bit ineffectual right now."
Loralei shook her head. "No, don't. You're doing more than you'll ever know. I miss him, Kara, and I just know something is going to happen to him. I've told him before, but I think this shit follows us, that maybe I'm his jinx or something."
"Loralei, don't be ridiculous. You're not his jinx. He loves you very much," Kara said.
She laughed a little, although it was bitter and hurtful. "Unlucky bastard," she said. "I know he does, but this separation is driving me crazy. I see him every damn day, but I can't touch him, can't kiss him, can't let him see his children for God's sake. He's within reach, but a fucking continent away." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm a mess, Kara. I'm sorry for doing this to you. I'm sure you have your own problems to deal with, don't you?"
Just a little one. "It's okay, Loralei. We're in this family together now. I'm here for you as long as you need me."
"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled through her hands. She moved her hands away from her face and ran them through her hair. "I think I will go to bed. I'm wrecked."
Loralei stood up and plodded toward the stairs. Tiredly, she climbed them one by one until she was at the top. She checked in on each child, noting that both were asleep. Tristan was so tiny that he didn't notice Donovan's absence as much as Rachel. Her daughter asked for her daddy every night, and she simply couldn't understand why he wouldn't come to her. It tore her apart each time her daughter asked, was denied, and then cried herself to sleep. Loralei entered the bedroom and stripped out of her clothing, not bothering with a shower tonight. She lacked the energy anyway. She tossed a tee shirt over her head and dropped down on Donovan's side of the bed. She curled herself around his pillow and cradled it close to her body. It was sappy and maybe a little crazy, but she had actually sprinkled a few drops of his aftershave onto the pillow so his smell could be there, even if he couldn't.
* * *
After cleaning himself up a bit, Dannon slathered a goodish amount of Ben-Gay on his arm. By morning, he probably wouldn't be able to lift it past shoulder level. He glanced at his wall clock. He still had a few hours before the public library closed. Perhaps Donovan would show up. Dannon dry swallowed four aspirin and moved on out the door. Once at the library, he frowned when he didn't see Donovan awaiting him. Damn it. Where was she? He actually missed the bitch. Loralei Donovan. What was her story? If she were a former FBI agent, wouldn't there be something about her in old papers? Hadn't Fehr said she worked on a very well known case? Hmm. The microfiche machines were on the third floor. Perhaps he could delve into them and get some more information about her. Picking up his step a bit, he went downstairs and luckily found a vacant machine. He had no idea how long it would take to find what he needed to know.
Dannon had quite a pile of microfiche files set out beside him. His head had begun to ache. He had been staring at the dingy screen far too many hours and found nothing. He was just about to pack it up and go home until a blurb stopped him. As much as Kelly Bartlet before him, Dannon's eyes fell on the society pages. He had no idea he would find his answer in the damned sucky ass society pages. What kind of dumb luck was that? He was looking at a small picture of Loralei and Frank Donovan. In fact, it was Loralei's own mother whom had bought space for the wedding announcement. He stared at the picture for a long time. My my my. If he had put a pair of glasses on the man, he would be staring right at Mittel Föderativ. Ah, his paranoia hadn't been for naught, now had it? Was this Donovan FBI like his wife? He recalled the day he had seen "Dean Fehr" in Loralei's office, but it hadn't been Fehr at all. Instead, it had been her damn husband. He was so angry that he wanted to search out Loralei and put her lights out. However, he wasn't physically able right now. Another idea sprang up in his mind. Perhaps there was another way. He immediately put Zimmerman at the bottom of his list. He had devised a way to get back at both Dean Fehr and this Frank Donovan. He shut down the machine and left the microfiche files where they lay. He had to go home and get some rest. He had to be at top form if he expected to do his best.