Chapter 4: When It Hits Home
-!-
Dillingham Home, Georgetown
Saturday, 5 June
1 p.m.
"Rachel, it was awful. I can't believe…" Elizabeth set down her teacup and dropped her head into her hands. " I went over there to try to help, and all I did was make things worse for him."
Rachel DeLacy folded her age-worn hands into her lap. "Now dearie, it can't have been that bad. He's under a lot of pressure right now."
"Most of it is pressure he's putting on himself, though," Elizabeth replied. "Why can't he just, for once, let the rest of them help? Why does he have to do it all himself?"
The old lady smiled and patted Elizabeth's shoulder. "Because that's who he is. I may have only met this Myles of yours a few times, but from everything you've told me about him, he's an intense, passionate young man who takes his job very seriously, even very personally. Given that he's in charge of this case, does it really surprise you that he's acting like this?"
The psychologist sighed. " I suppose not. But what do I do now?"
"Just wait a bit. Give him a little breathing room, even if you have to watch him breathe vacuum for awhile." Rachel's science-teacher persona peeked through, even though she'd been retired for several years. "I guarantee he feels as bad about your blow-up as you do. Now, I need to get back home before my grandkids show up for dinner tonight."
"I'll walk you over to your house." Elizabeth got their coats, and Rachel leaned on the younger woman's arm as they made their way across the street. When Rachel was safely on her front porch, Elizabeth gave her a big hug. "Rachel, you're the best. Where would you like to go for brunch tomorrow, after church? It's my treat."
The older lady smiled. "Let's do Mimi's, then. Those honey-peach muffins should shake off the rest of your melancholy. They always work for me."
-!-
-&-
-!-
-&-
He was ready. One more calling card, and she would be his. And a wonderful opportunity had just presented itself. It would mean a slight change of plan, but nothing that would leave any concrete clues. He would sneak in like a midnight wind, and rip out her heart before she even realized what was happening. Then, the fun would begin, as he closed in on her right under their noses. A soft laugh escaped his lips.
It was perfect.
-!-
-&-
-!-
-&-
Sunday, June 6
9 am
Elizabeth smiled as she stepped up onto Rachel's porch; a good night's sleep had done wonders, and she felt much better. She rang the doorbell and waited for an answer. A minute passed…two. She rang the bell again, then knocked. Still nothing.
"Rachel?" she called. Maybe she overslept? A strange feeling was working its way into her heart, and she stooped to retrieve the spare key from under a pot of begonias by the door.
She walked in to silence. "Rachel? Are you all right?" The complete stillness of the house was starting to spook her as she walked into the kitchen…and screamed.
Quiet, gentle Rachel DeLacy was lying on her kitchen floor, a pool of blood fanned out from her throat like a crimson scarf, and a black rose nestled between her hands.
-!-
-&-
-!-
-&-
After a second night of falling asleep at his desk, Myles had just about decided it was time for a real break. Unfortunately, it was Sunday morning, and he just knew that at some point a call would come in, broadcasting their— his failure to track down the Black Rose.
The rest of the team had come in, but no one seemed to want to risk setting off his wrath again. He couldn't blame them; he'd taken his frustration about the case out on Elizabeth Friday night, then proceeded to take his frustration over their fight out on the team all day Saturday.
At 9:05, the phone rang. He was so weary over it all that he simply hit the speakerphone button. "Leland." His voice was tired, hard.
"Myles?" Elizabeth could barely hold back the gasping sobs.
"Elizabeth? What is it?"
"I think… you all had better… come over here. Rachel DeLacy, my friend… from across the street…you've met her….she's so very nice…"
"Elizabeth." He heard the near-hysteria in her voice. "You're not making any sense. Calm down and tell me what's wrong." Heads were up all over the Bullpen now.
"Rachel…she's dead…I found her… few minutes ago…with a black rose…" She collapsed into tears.
"All right. Stay there, sweetheart." The weariness in his voice was still there, but the hardness was gone. "Go out on the front step if you have to. Don't move her, don't touch anything, okay? We'll be right there."
-!-
-&-
-!-
-&-
Tara sat on the steps of Rachel's house, her arm around Elizabeth. The psychologist's voice was quiet and raspy as she gave Bobby her statement. "…I walked into the kitchen, and found her there, in a pool of blood… so much blood…" she trailed off and laid her head down on her arms as the tears started again.
"You said you talked just yesterday. What about?" The efficiency he was trying to maintain was tempered by the sympathy in his voice.
Elizabeth looked up at him, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "Rachel is…was a close friend, rather like a grandmother to me. I could talk things out with her. We were talking about… what happened Friday night, with Myles." She looked over at Tara. "I'm sorry…it's just hard sometimes to talk to you about it, because you work with him…"
Tara nodded. "I understand completely. No problem. To tell you the truth, I'd just as soon not hear about his love life."
The quip had the desired response, and Elizabeth laughed a little. "I know. Anyway," she continued, turning back to Bobby, "Rachel went home at about 1:30, and we made plans for me to pick her up for church and then take her out for brunch this morning. I came over at 9, rang the bell, and there was no answer. The spare key was under the flowerpot over there, so I let myself in, and found her there."
"Can you think of any reason why someone would want to hurt Rachel?"
She shook her head. "No. Rachel was the sweetest person you could imagine. She taught junior high school science for forty years, and only retired when her arthritis got so bad she couldn't stand in front of the class. There are hundreds of kids in this area who are third-generation 'DeLacy graduates.' Everyone here in the neighborhood loved her. She didn't have an unkind cell in her body, I swear."
Bobby closed his notebook and laid a hand on Elizabeth's arm. "You okay?"
The psychologist nodded, and dropped her head back onto her arms. Suddenly Bobby looked up, and he motioned to Tara. She glanced over her shoulder, gave her friend one last gentle pat on the back, and moved away with the Aussie.
Elizabeth didn't move until a soft voice spoke. "Come on. I'll take you home." She looked up into blue-grey eyes that were filled with sorrow, both for the present and past heartaches. Myles took both her hands in his and drew her to her feet.
She paused for a moment, hesitant, then leaned against him and let the rest of the tears fall. He put his arms around her, then looked over at Jack. "Can you take care of the rest of this? I'll meet you back at the Bullpen in maybe an hour."
Jack Hudson nodded in understanding. "Take what time you need, Myles. We're pretty familiar with your drill by now."
-!-
-&-
-!-
-&-
He led her across the street, and sat her down on a swing she had in her front yard, sheltered by a vine-covered arbor from most of the neighborhood eyes. He sat down next to her, and she immediately moved into his arms, still crying. Myles just held her for a few minutes, his own heart squeezed with the pain of failure and knowing that her tears were a direct result of it.
After several minutes, she looked up at him, her green eyes still glistening. It took a single soul-penetrating gaze at him, and then she spoke quietly. "It's not your fault, love. Please. Don't think it's your fault."
His eyes dropped, and his voice betrayed his exhaustion. "I wasn't sharp enough, fast enough, and now your friend is dead. You tell me how it's not my fault."
She placed a hand on each of his cheeks and jerked his face upward. Her voice was low and angry. "Stop. Just stop it. I have listened to you beat yourself up over this all week, and I'm sick of it. How dare you diminish the utter depravity of this killer by saying his deeds are your fault. You didn't put the blade in his hand by not being able to find him— he picked up that knife of his own volition and drove it into Rachel by his own choice. Not yours."
Myles closed his eyes tightly as the weariness and the frustration threatened to spill over. "I want this killer caught. I want this over with."
"I know," she replied, her voice softening and her hands moving up to stroke his hair. "And all I want is to help you get through it sane. I'm so sorry about Friday night— I knew you were frustrated, and I let your outburst get to me."
He looked up at her, his eyes wide and surprised. "I about rip your head off, and you're apologizing to me? I don't know what to say to that, except to apologize in return. I'm—"
She placed a finger over his lips. "You know, I think I'd rather have that apology in a different form." Her face brightened into a faint smile, and she raised a brow at him.
Myles was puzzled for only a moment. Then he pulled her close and kissed her tenderly, letting all the awkward words fall by the wayside in the simple action. He sighed as they parted. "I have to go."
"I know. And I need to call Rachel's son. But will you please at least let me make dinner for you at home tonight? Just a couple of hours, I promise. You need it, love."
He nodded. "I'll try to get away at about 5. Are you going to be okay? Do you want to come in to the office with me?"
Elizabeth smiled, but shook her head. "No, you don't need me hanging around there while you all brainstorm. I think I will go over to your house after I talk to Connor, though. I don't want to see Rachel's house every time I pass a window."
-!-
-&-
-!-
-&-
His perch in the oak tree had taken an hour to set up in the dead of night, but now it paid off in spades. The Black Rose watched eagerly, relished the sound of her scream. A pair of high-powered binoculars with anti-glare lenses brought every line of pain on her face so close he felt he could touch them, but he was well-hidden from any observer by the verdant growth of spring leaves.
He watched as the FBI questioned her, knowing that even she didn't have a clue what was coming. Then he saw a tall, blond agent walk out of the house, his demeanor indicating that he was in charge. A quick glance at the morning papers' case articles for the past week revealed a name: Special Agent Myles Leland III, the case agent.
The Rose's heart quickened as he saw Agent Leland walk up to Dr. Dillingham and wrap his arms around her. He watched them walk across the street to her yard and sit down, shaded from view at all angles— except this one. The scene that played out before his eyes had him shaking in silent laughter. She's dating a Fed, he thought, noiselessly chortling. Oh, this is TOO perfect.
He would rip her right out from under Agent Leland's protective watch, and then dare the FBI to find him before it was too late. The torment he could inflict on them both was just too sweet.
The Black Rose leaned back against the tree branch; it would be several hours before dark, when he would slip down and put the last part of his plan in motion. His eyes closed, and his dreams were filled with images of blood and roses.
-!-
-&-