A pretty face don't mean a pretty heart
Chapter 2
"I'm having a really bad time of it Jack." A female's voice cut through the windswept encampment, survivors watched bewildered as two people who they looked for as an example behave precisely the opposite in the middle of them.
"Just fuck off and leave me alone." Kate turned her back, and marched away. Jack watched her shaking her head in disbelief.
Hurley was sitting on a piece of wreckage. Behind him Sawyer was preparing for another day scavenging whatever was left to be salvaged amongst the wreckage.
"Seems like freckles and jackass havin' a lovers tiff."
"Somebody better go after her." Hurley glanced at Sawyer. "Freckles can look after herself. Be my guest if you want to, but you'll come back without your testicles."
Hurley gulped. "She's been weird recently"
"Tell me something on this island that isn't?" Sawyer began putting some belongings into a makeshift hold-all. He hadn't the time for this conversation.
The crash-site was in the distance, Kate was confident that they'd leave her alone for a couple of hours. Everybody was there, apart from Locke, on another male hunter-gatherer mission. She found a place to rest, and sat down staring at the ocean.
Two weeks earlier
"Working late?" FBI Station chief Murray passed by Connor Sutherland's desk. Connor was busy finishing up typing a report.
"Just some tidying up boss, before Max comes back from his hols, especially when I'm going on mine!"
Murray nodded a practical friendly smile for Connor's benefit.
"You'll be in Naples this time next week!" Connor leaned back. He was itching to get out, and this conversation wasn't helping matters. "Yeah I'm meeting my little big brother there, the USS Nimitz will be stopping there for a couple of days."
"Send us a postcard will you Connor." Murray turned and walked away. "Have a good one."
"I will catch you in three weeks." Murray waved, as he walked out the door.
Connor got back to some frantic typing, covering his partner's workload was something not easily done. But Connor managed it. He finally hit the save key, and congratulated himself. Then his office phone rang, or more correctly, Apone's diverted office phone rang. Cursing his luck, he answered it.
"FBI, Agent Connor Sutherland speaking."
"Hello this is Detective Chief Inspector Alasdair Mitchell of the Australian Federal Police; can I speak to Special Agent Max Apone please?"
"I'm afraid, Agent Apone is on holiday at the moment, and can I be of assistance?"
"You could, Agent Apone is the point of contact for a individual who the FBI are looking for."
"Okay."
"It's just to let you know that we have a positive sighting of the individual in a farming town of Shepperton, one hundred clicks North East of Melbourne in Victoria."
Connor was writing hurriedly into his note book, so much for getting away earlier. "Do you have a name sir?"
"I do her name is Kate Ryan."
Connor almost dropped the receiver. As he had a momentary flashback. "Hello you still there?"
He quickly regained his composure.
"Kate Ryan is not to be approached, she is to be considered dangerous. Can I have all available details, we'll be sending agents out on the first available flight to Sydney!"
"Got it mate, will it be you and Agent Apone?"
"Fingers crossed, we've been after this bitch for a long time. We'll be coming!"
Connor typed out an email message to Apone. He'd see it on Monday morning, or Monday afternoon, Apone still was a luddite when it came to technology. By that time, Connor would hopefully be making an arrest of somebody he once hoped to spend the rest of his life with.
The Pacific Ocean was an azure carpet at 38,000 feet. Connor leaned back, loosened his seat belt and read Apone's file notes, it was going to be a long flight. There would be hell to pay when he got back, however the end justified the means. He glanced around the cabin, closed the file, stored it, and went into a deep and very peaceful sleep.
He woke up suddenly, as the plane violently shook. Turbulence. His elder brother Jamie, was in the USMC as a fighter pilot, he loved this shit. Connor glanced at the VDU screen, they were somewhere over the pacific. This is a bad place to develop a fault he mused. Besides, why did Oceanic only use twin engined 777's on this route?
One day later.
"Sorry Agent Sutherland, we should have had the vehicle checked before we left." An apologetic Victoria State Police Constable nervously checked the hissing and steaming engine of the Land Cruiser.
The sun baked down, as Connor stepped out onto the highway. Amazed by on one side parched scrubland, and on the other low lying hills, and overhead, a clear blue sky. He frowned, checking his watch.
"It happens."
The constable got off from speaking. "Help's coming, but we won't be there until late afternoon."
"No problem – I understand it was you who made the ID?"
The Constable nodded. "It was her as sure as day. I had to do a double take. The farmer is a widower no children, turns up with a pretty brunette, it's the talk of the town!"
Connor leaned against the SUV. "Then they say she's Canadian, hell, I had to have a look myself." Connor removed his sunglasses. "The eyes gave her away."
"Thank you Constable Dryden. You've done good."
"The rap sheet says she shot and almost killed an FBI agent in his apartment!"
"I know." Connor winced.
"Did you know him?"
"I was the one who was shot." Was Connor's ice cold reply.
Denver, a few years earlier.
Chrissie Apone took of all her patients in Post Op Care, all got the same professional care and standards that she demanded and expected of her staff. This patient was different, she treated this one as a son. She couldn't believe what had just happened, as her husband filled her in on what happened. Connor's mother and father were on the first flight from Sacramento, they couldn't believe it either.
It was fifty fifty, Connor was in there fighting, his spirit was always strong. Apone, with the FBI, the city and state police were no doubt tearing Denver apart looking for Kate. Her daughters were safely at home, with their Aunt, she would tell them in the morning. This was a long time away. She looked at the clock above her Nurse's station; it was 1:58 in the morning. Bar Connor, it had been a mercifully quiet day. The door to his ward was wide open, as Sandra and Keeley the other Nurses on duty went on their rounds. At the end of the corridor, the lift chimed. Chrissie looked up, hospital security usually did their rounds at this time.
A bedraggled feminine figure walked out of the lift. Her footsteps echoed down the corridor. Chrissie sucked in air, and hit the panic alarm button at her station.
"Haven't you done enough today?" She hissed. Then she noticed the pistol in Kate's, no Connor's jacket.
The eyes that stared back at her, were as black as night, rimmed by red from crying.
Kate turned and saw Connor in the intensive care ward. She choked back something. "Is he ok?"
Chrissie looked first at Connor, then at Kate. She then felt something for Kate that she'd never expected to feel for her today. Pity.
"He's going to pull through, Kate. It'll take a while but he's strong." Kate looked at Chrissie, then reached into the jacket pocket, and removed a photograph, and an ink running, rain stained envelope. She laid it on the work station in front of Chrissie. "Please give these to him."
"Kate." Chrissie whispered softly. "Turn yourself in, we'll find you a good lawyer."
"I have to go."
Kate turned and walked away.
Shepperton, Victoria.
"There's a diner across the road from here. The grub's edible, not great." This was the famous Australian sense of humour, Connor remembered his father telling him it was the toss of a coin on a day in 1974, heads for Australia, tails for the USA. His father picked the USA, as there were still shipyards there that he could work in. He couldn't imagine himself as a beat cop, never mind a detective in a place like this.
Connor took the keys from the manager, he then had a thought. "Excuse me." Connor removed Kate's rap sheet from his jacket pocket. The bald man in his early fifties smiled. "Have you seen this woman at all recently?"
The manager took the rap sheet, opened it, stared at it, before politely handing it back to Connor. "I'm afraid I'd remember her in person, however another American gentleman showed me this same piece of paper." He said matter of fact tone. "Just this morning."
"Is he still here?" I think I know who this is. Connor reached up and grabbed his suitcase, and slung his day-sack over his shoulder. "Yes, I believe he is over at the diner."
Connor smiled. "What meals do you recommend?"
"Anything that has beef!" Bloody yank!
The diner was almost empty, save for a waitress, and a middle-aged man, a jukebox played some awful country and western tunes on it. Connor walked in, the middle aged man had his back turned to him, sitting on a stool at the diner counter.
"Just be a minute sir." The harassed middle-aged waitress shouted from behind the counter. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"A soda extra ice" Connor said sitting on a stool next to the counter. The waitress smiled. "Coming up"
Connor glanced at the menu, go for something edible, filling and hot.
Connor looked at the other man in a suit. He was stubbing out a cigarette in an ash tray. "Should have known you were coming." He drawled, and then looked round directly at Connor. "Of course you look a lot better than when I last saw you in Denver."
Mars grinned. "Tubes sticking out of you, the priest giving you the last rites, your boss marching me out of the hospital" He fumbled about and got another cigarette. Connor noticed the No-Smoking sign, and a very angry waitress. Mars took one look at her, and coolly lit it.
"Of course I thought then, the Feds protecting one of their own. It was understandable in the circumstances."
Mars glanced at the coffee pot. The waitress went into the kitchen. Mars grinned. "An arrest gone wrong."
Connor sipped his soda, slowly. "Then I read the police report, very interesting." Mars smiled. "I sneaked a peek at your apartment while you were recovering. I'd have never of guessed she was your flat-mate." The waitress returned with a full coffee pot and placed it down in front of Mars. "She has that way with men, Agent Sutherland. She almost fucked your career before it was started."
He blew smoke in Connor's direction. Mars knew about the relationship.
Mars thinly smiled. "The farmer she's staying with, is the one who has turned her in. He has a very big mortgage on his farm to pay off."
Connor turned around and place his glass on the counter. "I'm meeting with him tomorrow, no police, no publicity, and tomorrow night she's on a flight to LAX with me in chains."
"This whole this thing is going to come out in the wash." Mars smirked. "Your career along with it kid."
Mars turned round, only to find Connor face to face. Connor breathed deeply. "Not if I get to her first."
Morning the next day.
"It's a few kilometres from here." The police constable driving spoke. Connor sat in the passenger seat, like many times before, rehearsing in his mind likely scenarios, and outcomes. He inserted a clip into his new issue pistol. In the other police car following was Mitchell, and a female police sergeant, with more on the way.
"The farm's nice and secluded. She can run" The police officer glanced at Connor, then turned to face the road ahead. "What the!" He cautiously slowed down.
There were flames and smoke billowing from down the embankment, a wrecked half-truck, and a body lying by the road.
Both police cars sharply stopped. Connor got out, as the sergeant got onto his radio. Mitchell and the other sergeant followed Connor.
"That's the bloody farmer." Shouted Mitchell, as Connor tended to him, with a first aid kit. He noticed he only had one arm. "Is he okay?"
Connor checked for a pulse. "Its weak – he needs a hospital now." He shouted back, his tone was angry, bitter, disappointed. Not again. He said under his breath. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
"You're supposed to be in Naples." The voice at the other end of the line, sounded like a disappointed father. Then what sounded like a stifled laugh. "Luckily I read my emails first thing in the morning now."
Connor sat in the departure terminal, nursing a hangover with black coffee and sugar. He paused and waited for an announcement to cease.
"Murray's informed the LA division, agents will be waiting to assist you and your captive when you arrive." Apone paused. "How is she?"
"I didn't get her." Connor leaned back. "Our friend, Mars got to her first." Apone sighed. "Shit. What was the body count?" It wasn't a joke.
"The local police are still determining what happened. It looks as though Kate tried to escape, there was a car crash. The farmer is still in hospital, will be for a while. His farm will be going under."
"Kate?"
"Cuts and bruises. She put up a struggle." Connor watched the flight display board. "She's trussed up in chains." Connor smiled. "I guess it's over."
"It is." Apone replied. "What now?"
Connor smiled. "I'm going to buy a book for the flight back." Apone laughed.
"What flight are you on?"
"Oceanic Flight 815. We're boarding in an hour."
"Take care, I'll see you in a couple of weeks."
"Yeah – I almost forgot I'm on leave."
"That's right enjoy yourself."
"Give my love to Chrissie and the girls." Connor smiled. "I will." Apone hung up.
"Just water please." The stewardess smiled, and handed Connor a mineral water. It was then he noticed the eyes and partial head of a little girl. He smiled. Shy, she quickly ducked back into her seat.
"I have that effect on women." Connor muttered.
He reached for the weather beaten letter on his tray. It was marked Connor in hand writing that he know. There was a picture also, it pained him to look at it. He sighed. He felt vibrations in the soles of his feet. Turbulence, he thought. He tightened his seatbelt.
The cabin lights flickered, then the whole world went to hell.
The last thing Connor remembered as the 777's tail section tumbled from the sky, was the little girl being sucked from her seat. The scream was awful.
To be continued…