Monday, 7 June
8:15 am
The complete emotional release and subsequent dreamless sleep, along with a very refreshing morning, had done wonders for his psyche, even if it hadn't done much in the way of the case. Still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it as he maneuvered through rush-hour traffic. The case would come; it was only a matter of time with their unit.
He was just pulling out his cell phone to call Jack when it rang, startling him enough that he was glad traffic was slow. "Leland," he said.
"Gee, what a coincidence. So's this." A familiar voice brought a smile to his face.
"Sam! What's going on?"
"You tell me, bro. You got some seriously weird dreams running through your head right now, or is this punishment for missing some important date again? I might have to send Gregory down there if you tell me you got drunk."
"No, no," Myles replied, "I'm sorry about the dreams. We have rather an intense case going on right now, and it tends to crawl into my subconscious."
"Oh...are you okay?" Sam's voice was suddenly hesitant, but gained momentum with his next questions. "I mean...does Liz know? Why are you dreaming about Tara dying? Because it's totally not cool."
Myles had just reached his parking spot, fortunately, because he stopped abruptly. "Tara? Tara's not in my dream. What are you seeing?"
"Uh..." Sam paused, and Myles heard him muttering something to 'Fin before returning his attention to the phone call. "Well...it's hazy. There's a garden and flowers and Tara dies. It's disturbing. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, really," Myles replied. "Tara? That's strange. In my dream, it's Elizabeth."
"Jeez...that's really strange. Have you talked to her about it?"
"The details? No...but she was there when I woke up screaming last night—" Suddenly, he realized exactly what he'd said.
Sam whistled, and Myles could hear the mischievous grin when he spoke. "Really? Now that's interesting. Do I need to come back and play chaperone?"
"Ha, ha." Myles paused as he thought how best to explain what little he could say. "Have you seen the paper this morning?"
"Yeah! You saw that, too? I'm so glad they're having the Nintendo Expo in New York this year, because I hate flying to Cali—" There was an abrupt stop to the flow of conversation, and then Sam realized softly, "Oh. You mean the front page..."
"Yes," Myles replied, a fond smile touching his lips. Some things about Sam would never change, and he wasn't sure any longer that he wanted them to. "The latest victim...was a good friend of Elizabeth's. She lived right across the street. In fact, Elizabeth was the one who found her. She stayed in the guest room last night, because she didn't want to see Rachel's house every time she looked out the window."
"Oh." Sam replied quietly. "Tell her I said I was sorry, will you?"
"I will. I think I'll also ask her about what you're seeing as you catch part of my dreams. I've never heard of anything like that happening before." He brightened, glad that Sam had called and not wanting to leave his twin depressed all day. "Hey, I have to go. I'm already late for work. But give 'Fin a scratch around the ears for me, and tell Gregory I said hi. I'm okay, Sam, really. I'll call you later."
"As long as you don't forget." Sam chastened, his tone light and jestful again. "Or I'll just have to call you at the most annoying moment I can think of. G'bye, bro."
Myles hung up the phone, chuckling as he remembered a moment earlier when a phone call would indeed have been...inopportune.
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It was only when he stepped out of the elevator and heard voices in the Bullpen go abruptly quiet that he remembered the weekend he'd put the rest of the team through. While it was true that Sunday afternoon had been calmer, he could feel the tension still clear out into the hallway. He paused for a moment outside the doorway, debating how to handle it.
You're the case agent, he thought. Technically, you're in charge. They say the captain should never apologize...still, this level of tension isn't going to bring out our best. I need to do or say something.
He pondered that a bit more; then a thought popped into his head he'd never dreamed would: What would Jack do?
For all the grief he'd given his unit leader over various things, he knew that it was Jack Hudson's leadership and ability to get them past each other that made the team the crack unit it was. He thought for a minute more, then took a breath and walked into the Bullpen.
"What do we have, then? Anything new?" The neutral tone in his voice, coupled with the lightness in his step, seemed to have the effect of a breeze sweeping through the room and clearing the tension.
Tara got up and walked over to him, a file in hand. "Actually, yes. On the tail end of that list of mail-orders for black roses were a handful of what you'd call 'governmental rehabilitation' projects."
"'Governmental rehabilitation'?" He thought for a minute, then gave her a piercing glance. "You mean as in prisons?"
She nodded as the rest of the team gathered around. "That's right. There were about ten federal prisons on the list."
Sue looked confused. "Why would federal prisons be ordering roses?"
"Most prisons, even the maximum security ones, have some sort of rehabilitative programs for the inmates," Dimitrius explained, fingerspelling R-E-H-A-B-I-L-I-T-A-T-I-V-E. "GED courses, sometimes various art media...or gardening."
Bobby continued, "The programs aren't designed for just any prisoner - obviously, they're not going to trust someone with a history of violence with a deadly weapon near a pair of pruning shears. But those who earn 'model prisoner' status...sure."
"So we're looking at maybe an ex-con?" Jack asked. "But he'd still have to order his own stuff once he got out of jail, wouldn't he?"
"Maybe," Myles replied, staring at the wall again in thought, "maybe not. No reason a guard would be suspicious about an inmate wanting to pass a rose cutting to a visitor. Tara?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's get the details on that handful of orders. We may be jumping the gun on this, but it's something."
He turned to the rest of the group as she sat back down at her computer. "Let's try taking it from the top again. Everyone grab a case file, starting with Rachel DeLacy and working back. I know they're not the Rose's primary target, but something about them has got to reveal what his agenda is. Let's take each piece of the puzzle individually and in sequence." He picked up Rachel DeLacy's file and headed for his desk.
Bobby had headed for the coffee station first, so D took the opportunity to walk over and lean against Myles' desk. "Glad to see something finally unwound you," he said, very softly.
Myles looked up at him, his voice equally quiet. "Why do I get the feeling you've been holding out on me all these years?"
"What?" D chuckled. "About the advantages of married life and having someone there? You'd never have believed me. It's totally subjective. How's Liz doing, anyway?"
Bobby was sitting down at his desk and had caught only the last question. "Yeah, she okay after yesterday?"
Myles nodded. "I think so. She said the image of finding Rachel would probably stick with her for awhile, but she seems to be all right. Rachel's funeral is tomorrow, so I think that will give her some closure as well."
"Hey, you think the Rose might show up at the funeral?" the Aussie asked. "Serial killers have done stranger things, and it does seem that she was his last 'calling card'."
Myles leaned back in his chair at that. "Hmm...might be worth a surveillance just in case. Let me give Elizabeth a call and find out the details, then we can set something up." He gave Bobby a grin. "Good idea...for once."
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St. Vincent's Cathedral
Tuesday, 8 June10 am
Why you, my friend? What could this maniac possibly have against you? Elizabeth looked at Rachel DeLacy's placid face for a long time, her thoughts full of fond memories, mixed with a lingering confusion. She was calm now, standing at the side of the casket, her hand resting against the satin lining. What drew him to you?
Last night had been harder. Connor, Rachel's son, had asked her if she would be able to help prepare his mother's body for the funeral. Elizabeth had gone home afterward and cried herself to sleep over the loss of her friend, the same questions screaming in her head.
Even a late phone call from Myles hadn't truly helped; she had simply needed sleep to wash away the last traces of grief. Awaking this morning, she had looked out her front window for the first time in two days without feeling horror; now she had been able to picture Rachel out in her beautiful garden, pulling weeds from amid the hollyhocks or cutting tulips to surprise a neighbor. She had felt a gentle hand brush her shoulder, and she knew that Rachel was at peace.
Elizabeth brushed the gray curls back from Rachel's pale brow one last time. "Goodbye for now, dear friend," she whispered.
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11 a.m.
They had set up a bit earlier in the morning, so as not to disturb the sobriety of the service. Thanks to modern technology, only three members of the team were needed inside the chapel: Myles and Bobby on either side, near the back, and D positioned above in the choirloft.
As the service ended, and family and friends congregated near the front, talking quietly, Bobby walked over to his colleague. "Guess the Rose had other plans for today," he said softly.
"It would appear so," Myles replied as Dimitrius came down the stairs to join them. "Tara," he said into his radio. "Do you see anyone who looks…conspicuous?"
A short laugh sounded in his ear. "You mean, besides the three of you huddled together? Nope, nobody."
The blond agent sighed. "Time to pack up then, before the press shows up outside."
"Uh…too late, I'm afraid, Myles," was the sober reply. "They're already here."
"Great. Just wonderful." The tone of his voice indicated just the opposite. He took a deep breath and walked outside.
The cacophony that met him was familiar, as was his annoyance at it. It was times like this he envied Sue her silent world. He didn't have to approach them; they congregated around him like seagulls to a fishing boat.
"Agent Leland—"
"What can you tell us—"
"Is it true that—"
Myles held up a hand and raised his voice. "There is a press briefing today at 3 p.m., I will answer your questions to the best of my ability at that time, not before." He pushed his way through the crowd and walked over to where Jack was leaned up against a car.
"What a mess," the dark-haired agent observed.
Myles nodded, and pulled out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial. "Elizabeth?" he said quietly when she answered. "You might want to have Rachel's family hold off a bit before you all come out. The press is out here, and Connor's likely to get mobbed. Since they undoubtedly know by now that you're the one who found her, they'll probably do the same to you."
He listened for a moment, and Jack watched his expression change to a mixture of surprise and respect. "He does? Will you tell him 'thank you,' from all of us, please?"
Another moment of silence, and then Myles chuckled. "I'll tell her. I'll see you later, then." He hung up and looked at Jack. "You're not going to believe what we're about to witness."
They turned, and watched the church doors open. Connor DeLacy stepped out and marched purposefully toward the cluster of reporters. They flocked around him, and the barrage began again.
"Mr. DeLacy—"
"How do you feel—"
One voice raised over all the rest. "Mr. DeLacy, how do you feel knowing that the FBI's failure to track down this serial killer directly resulted in your mother's death?"
Bobby's head snapped up as he recognized the voice. It was Darcy.
Connor DeLacy looked her right in the eye. "Miss D'Angelo, isn't it?" She nodded. "I'm actually very glad you asked that, because it saves me from having to answer that same question from all of you."
Microphones came at him from all directions. He drew himself very straight and his voice resonated enough for everyone to hear very clearly.
"How do I feel? I feel grateful that the FBI is not giving up on tracking down this serial killer. My mother's death was not the result of their failure; it was the direct result of a madman's choice to take another human life. I certainly hope that the Black Rose is caught soon, but I will not add to the problem by blaming those who are trying to catch him or her." He looked over the top of the sea of heads to where the team was congregated. He gave a brief nod to them, a gesture of thanks, then turned back to the press. "Now, if you will excuse us, we will finish burying my mother."
He turned and opened the church doors, and Rachel's family and friends began to make their way to their cars.
Bobby was about to go have a word with Darcy when Myles stopped him. "Look," he murmured.
The Aussie did so, and saw Elizabeth walk past Darcy and sign Thank you, at such an angle that few others would have caught it. Darcy gave a single brief nod and a conspiratorial smile, then headed for her car as well.
"That was planned," Dimitrius said, a bit amazed.
Myles nodded. "Connor wanted to make sure that the right question was asked for what he wanted to say."
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Dillingham Home, Georgetown
Tuesday, 7 p.m.
Elizabeth sighed as she walked slowly through her front door. It had been a very long day with Rachel's family, and she was ready to just curl up in a chair and let the silence finish off the healing process.
She stopped when she heard the clink of dishes coming from the kitchen. What—? A sudden fear gripped her heart, and she inched back to the entryway, grabbing an umbrella from the closet, thankful she'd left that door ajar.
She crept back toward the kitchen, wielding the umbrella like a baseball bat, and flattened her back against the pantry cabinet. She very slowly peeked around the edge of the cabinet, half-expecting...
"Elizabeth? Is that you?"
She drew in a sharp breath, then stepped out from behind the cabinet. "Myles?"
He was pulling something out of the oven and setting it on the counter. "Hi. I thought I'd surprise you with dinner for a change. Well, it's out of your freezer, so I can't take credit for it, but—" He stopped as he noticed the umbrella.
She quickly slipped it behind her back. "I...well, thank you, love. I wasn't expecting you..." She trailed off as he gave her a piercing look; then she sighed. "Guess the last few days have me wound up a bit, huh?"
He immediately came over and drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry I frightened you," he said softly.
Elizabeth dropped the umbrella and returned the hug. "It's all right," she replied. "We've just ended up at your house so often lately that I'd actually forgotten you had a key. And I'm assuming you parked in the garage..."
Myles stroked her dark hair. "I didn't think about how you'd feel in hearing someone moving around in your house after the past few days. I'm—"
She cut him off with a quick kiss. "Apologizing entirely too much lately. It's bad for your image, you know." She gave him a bright smile.
He laughed. "So it is. But you see right through it anyway, so around you it doesn't matter. By the way, I did tell Tara you could do Coffee Club tomorrow, and she's ecstatic. She said to tell you she'd be there at 6:30...we're getting some early mornings in right now. So, you hungry?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Dinner and a quiet evening with my 'special agent' sounds like the perfect prescription right now."
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Washington, DC
Tuesday, 11 p.m.
He looked around the small area in deep satisfaction. Everything was ready. In a very short time now, his prey would be ensnared and he would toy with her, like a cat before devouring a mouse. The psychologist would know the extent to which head games could be played, and the thought made him laugh, softly at first, then growing until it echoed through the room with wonderful resonance.
"Soon, my dear," he whispered. "Soon it will begin, and you will rue the day you ever laid eyes on me."
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