Sorry for taking so long with this. Most of it's been written for a while, but since I didn't know what approach I was taking in the next chapter, I couldn't write the last bit. Until this week. Then I straightened myself out, got it plotted a bit, and here we are. Finished at last. (This chapter, I mean.)

Many thanks to everyone who's still reading. Hopefully you'll still remember the gist of what's gone on before, and this chapter will make sense!

Take care, and Merry Christmas

Too Good To Be True
By: Mariel


Chapter 24

The next morning, Jack breezed into the office only minutes after Samantha had settled at her desk. Dropping a sheaf of files onto the top of his filing cabinet, he walked out into the bullpen area to say good morning.

"You're here bright and early."

She turned her chair around and looked up at him.

"Figured there must be something I could do here before the day really gets started," she said. She glanced over at the wall clock. "You're in kinda early yourself."

"Guess we're on the same wavelength. There's some paperwork I need to do before we start, but I want to get out and ask around about Smith, and I figure we should talk to Miquella, too. She was told about the surveillance and the reason for it, but she might like to talk to someone who's connected to the investigation."

"You're hoping something's jogged her memory?" Samantha asked.

Jack nodded. "Maybe."

"There's always hope," she commented, without much herself. She then waved at the papers on her desk. "I'm still trying to figure out where it is Smith's been working the past three years. I can't find anything on him using either his address or his name, and his neighbour certainly didn't know." She shook her head. "It's been a long time, Jack. I should have found something by now. If we could find his workplace - or even a bank account - we might find someone who knows something about him that would help us."

Jack grunted. "So maybe we have an independently wealthy serial killer, who doesn't have to work?"

Samantha lifted an eyebrow. "Not too wealthy - that apartment didn't scream 'millions to spare'."

Jack nodded in agreement. "You've got a point. But he may have an income of some sort - something that gives him enough to get by on."

"So that he can concentrate on his 'hobby'?" asked Samantha darkly.

Turning towards his office, Jack didn't respond. Instead, he said, "See if you can pick up anything on the income angle. I'll go get some stuff done. When I'm finished, it'll be about time to go out and hit the street."

-XXX-

Two hours later, Jack and Samantha were driving through heavy traffic towards Miquella's residence. Having tried - and failed - to squash her curiosity about something she knew was none of her business, Samantha angled herself to look at Jack and casually asked, "So, how was dinner last night? Terry seemed a little concerned."

Jack smiled at the memory. Obviously in a mood to talk, he said, "He had every right to be. Janice doesn't cook. Hell, she's spent her entire life doing everything but the domestic chores the rest of us take for granted. She can figure out how to turn on the burners of most stoves, but after that, she finds the whole process kind of confusing." He glanced over at her and explained, "She's always had nannies or housekeepers to prepare meals, and clean, and do all the other stuff the rest of us take for granted."

Having been raised quite differently, Samantha suggested, "Perhaps someone should buy her a cookbook."

Jack chuckled. "I don't think she'd take the hint. Even when she's living without someone to do it for her, she hasn't come across a dining situation she couldn't buy her way out of. She's quite content to know every caterer in the city by first name. To be honest, I don't think she'd want to learn how to cook. And God knows with her money, she doesn't have to. She's happy the way she is. "

Samantha looked over at him, a flash of jealousy coursing through her at the relaxed fondness for Janice she heard in his voice. His easy acceptance of this particular idiosyncrasy surprised and disconcerted her. Though they hadn't done it a lot, on the few occasions she and Jack had spent time in the kitchen preparing a meal, he had seemed to appreciate and even prefer 'home' cooking. She paused thoughtfully, wondering what lifestyle he and Janice would adopt together. She decided it would certainly be much different from what he was accustomed to at present.

Forcing her mind away from thoughts of Jack and Janice and their version of domestic bliss, she said, "At least you can find your way around a kitchen. Perhaps once she sees you in action, she'll take up an interest." Immediately, she regretted the reference to something she knew only because of their affair. Quickly, she looked out of the window and added, "How much longer do you think it will take to get there?"

Not noticing Samantha's disquiet, Jack shrugged. Switching conversational gears easily, he said, "At this rate, probably another fifteen or twenty minutes. We could walk there faster." As he said that, he saw an empty parking space and made a quick decision. Smoothly pulling into the spot, he said, "And that's just what we'll do," he said. "Good thing we wore our coats."

Samantha looked around to get her bearings. He was right. It would probably be only a ten minute walk. Getting out of the car, she stood and buttoned up the front of her long trench coat. She was glad for its protection against a cool autumn breeze strong enough to lift her hair off her shoulders and toss it around.

As Jack walked around the car to join her, she turned into the wind and swept the hair off her face. Holding it in one hand away from her face, she said, "I need an elastic."

"And you don't have one? You always have one," he said.

"First time I've worn this coat since I put it away for the summer. I haven't had time to restock the pockets with life's necessities."

He paused to think, then opened up the car's passenger door. Flipping open the glove compartment, he rooted around, then turned, holding up in triumph a beige, covered elastic. He slammed the door closed and passed it to her.

She recognised it as the kind she usually used, but told herself it must have been one his daughters had left. Surely he wouldn't have saved something so trivial all this time.

Smiling her thanks, she took it from him, enjoying the small tingle she felt when their fingers met. She then opened the door of the car again and slid into the seat. Minutely aware of his gaze upon her, she pulled down the visor and looked up into the mirror on its reverse, quickly pulled her hair back, and secured it firmly. When she got out, she looked up at him happily, forgetting for a moment everything but the simple pleasure of being like this. With him. "Much better," she said with a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he answered, his eyes lingering on hers a touch longer than necessary.

She saw and recognised the flash of appreciation in his eyes before he dragged his gaze away from her. There was no doubt, she thought, that he enjoyed these moments as much as she did. She felt a deep sense of loss and sadness. So where had they gone wrong? Why was he with Janice? What had she been doing with Martin?

Jack cleared his throat, interrupting her thoughts. "We should get going."

With skittering leaves crunching beneath their feet, they began their walk towards Miquella's apartment.

-XXX-

They were within sight of Miquella's building when Jack stopped abruptly. "Goddamnit," he muttered. Pulling on Samantha's arm, he brought her up against him and stepped closer to the building they were walking in front of. Moving her so that they were looking in the window of what turned out to be a pawn shop, he put his arm around her waist comfortably and said, "Don't be obvious, but who does that look like to you? Across the street and down one. Sitting on the steps of the building with the green awning."

Quickly understanding Jack's sudden and unexpectedly affectionate manner, Samantha stood with her body closely aligned to his and looked in at the jumbled contents of the window display. Falling into the role of a couple out on a casual stroll, she turned towards him more fully and put one arm under his and around his back. With her face turned as though she was looking directly at him, her lips curved in a smile as her eyes played over the opposite side of the street. "I see him. He's got a newspaper lying on his lap, right?"

Her eyes then turned to meet Jack's. Trying to ignore her body's response to being so close to him, she said, "He doesn't look like he's surveillance, but I'm not certain it's Smith, either."

"Take away the beard," Jack suggested, his arm keeping her firmly pressed against him.

Strongly suspecting that Jack was seeing only what he was hoping to see, she carefully looked again.

After an all-too-short moment, she frowned and reluctantly loosened her hold on him. Turning back towards the window, she felt his arm slip away. Missing his warmth, she gestured at something on display in the window and said, "I dunno. You could be right. But why would he be here this time of day - and where is our surveillance guy, anyways?"

That question was bothering Jack, as well. His eyes had swept the street as soon as they'd turned the corner, and though he'd seen a car that he suspected belonged to the FBI parked across from the apartment, there was no one sitting inside, and no one in view he considered a likely agent. Resisting the urge to put his arm around her while they walked, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "Let's go to the end of the block and see if we can spot him." He scanned the street, then nodded towards the corner up ahead. "Bottom dollar says he's in that coffee shop."

As she walked beside him, Samantha set aside the wish that his arm were still around her and instead assessed the vantage point of the location he'd mentioned. She found it wanting. Only a rookie would have chosen the spot - or a veteran who was getting slack and felt this particular job beneath him.

Several yards later, they had almost reached the coffee shop. Jack lifted a hand to indicate the door, then, because it was too hard to resist this small excuse to touch her again, he brought his arm around behind her to guide her forward. She felt right, felt as though she belonged as part of him. Longing filled him. He forced himself to drop his arm.

They spotted the fed as they walked by the shop's window on their way to the door. Young enough to look freshly shaven in spite of his supposed all-night duty, he sat at a window seat, warming his hands around a large mug of black coffee.

Now, stepping through the doorway, Jack said, "That was definitely Smith. Keep an eye on him while you call for backup." He glanced at the agent who sat nursing his cup of coffee. "I'll be right back." Noting the tightly contained anger in his voice, Samantha nodded and hung back just inside the entrance as Jack strode towards the unsuspecting agent.

As he drew near, the agent looked up at him.

"Let me see your badge," Jack growled.

The young man was too inexperienced or too cowed by Jack's demeanour to consider maintaining his cover. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and opened it for Jack to see.

"Agent Stoddard," Jack said in a low voice, "you're supposed to be on duty. What the hell are you doing here, where you can't see the east side of the building you're supposed to be surveilling? How the hell do you know if the person you're protecting - or the person you're protecting her from - hasn't entered or exited?" Seeing the agent open his mouth to protest, Jack continued to speak: "And if you think that's unlikely, you might be interested to know the person you're supposed to be on the alert for is reading a paper just down the street from here!"

Blood rushing to his face, the young man stood. "I'm sorry sir. I was instructed to watch the apartment building and given a description of the suspect, but...I was here all night. There was nobody... and at this time of day...I mean, it's daytime, sir...in broad daylight...no one would...I didn't think..."

"Fucking right you didn't think," Jack said between clenched teeth. Exasperated that someone this stupid had been put on duty alone, he said, "You-" He stopped himself from continuing. Knowing he had more immediate things to do, he changed track abruptly, and said, "We'll take care of things from here. Go home. I'll put you on report after we take care of getting our perpetrator arrested and ensure that our witness is safe."

As he spoke, he also decided to have the head of whoever had decided to put this particular rookie on duty with no supervision.

Turning away, he resisted the urge to hit something. With the goose chase they'd been on the day before still grating on him, he figured that at the rate things were going, he'd have a whole row of heads by week's end.

Then Samantha stepped into his line of view. Seeing the look on her face, he felt his blood pressure began to rise still further. Something else had gone wrong. "Now what?" he asked, before she could speak.

"Smith just flagged down a Yellow Cab and drove off," she told him hurriedly, her voice frustrated. "No way in hell I could stop him or chase him, so I stayed put. No point in blowing our cover if we don't have to."

In spite of his chagrin, he was glad for her quick thinking, "You did the right thing. Did you get the number?" he asked.

She nodded and gave him both the cab number and the name of the company it belonged to.

"Okay, then. You know what to do."

Lifting the phone to her ear, she quickly cancelled the backup, while Jack took his phone out to dial the cab company.

Forty-five minutes later, after first being told the wrong drop-off spot, they eventually received the correct information from the cab dispatcher. Standing at the mouth of a subway entrance, they looked at each other in frustration.

"We'll never find him now."

Staring down the subway steps, Jack said, "We'll go ask the usual questions, but you're probably right. At least there's no doubt now about whether or not he knows where Miquella is."

"And you were right about her still being his target."

He shrugged. It wasn't something he took much joy in being right about. "I've made sure they put someone who knows what they're doing with her. They're going to stick closer, too. I'll feel better if someone's right in the apartment with her."

When Samantha opened her mouth to speak, Jack held up his hand. "No. Don't even suggest it. That's the last thing you need to be doing. I need you available. At least until Danny and Martin get back."

Samantha looked at him, her head tilted to one side. "You're trying to read my mind again. How do you know I wasn't just going to suggest it was time for lunch?" she asked, a smile gently curving her lips.

"Because I know you and how much you love to get directly involved. But not this time," Jack said. He didn't add his regret that their days of having lunch were long over. Changing the subject he asked, "Do you know when Martin and Danny plan to get back today?"

Samantha shook her head. "They may have left a message at the office."

Waving at the subway steps with his hand, Jack said, "We'll find out after we interview the ticket vendors. And the cabbie. After that, we'll head back to the office, pick up our messages, and talk to Terry."

-XXX-

Three hours later, they were back at the office. Terry had been there waiting for them, and the three had spoken at some length.

"You're sure he didn't leave because he knew who you were?" Terry asked.

Jack shook his head. "No way. We were in the shop a few minutes before he decided to leave."

Samantha supported Jack's opinion. "He didn't leave in a hurry, either. He stood up, looked up at the building and then at his watch, and then waited for a cab to go by. He flagged it down, and got in. The taxi didn't take off in a particular hurry, so I really think he'd just waited as long as he felt he needed to."

"So why did he leave?" Terry asked.

Jack and Samantha looked at each other, at a loss.

"Perhaps he needed to go to work? Not," Samantha added, "that I've been able to figure out where his work is."

"Knowing where he works isn't all that critical any more. Sooner or later, he's going to make a move on Miquella, and so long as we keep our eye on her, we'll find him," Terry said confidently.

Jack's phone rang. Lifting it up, he listened a few minutes, then said, "Sure, come up and get them."

Putting the receiver down, he told Terry, "That was Janice. She's misplaced her keys. She's coming up for mine."

Rising, Terry offered, "I'm heading out now. I can give them to her for you."

Smiling at Terry's poorly disguised eagerness, Jack reached into his pocket and drew his key ring out. Removing a key, he passed it over to him. "Tell her I'll be a little late, so if she's home tonight, she needn't worry about food or anything. I want to catch up on some stuff here."

Terry flipped the key into the air and caught it. Nodding, he said, "Will do," and headed for the door.

Having discreetly given Terry and Janice the opportunity to spend some time alone - providing Terry was smart enough to take advantage of it - Jack turned to Samantha and said, "You may be able to leave at a decent hour today, too. If you're finished, head out and take advantage of it."

"Anything I can do? Maybe I can help you get out earlier, too," she offered.

Jack shook his head. "Thanks, but it's just paperwork and some filing I need to catch up on. It shouldn't take me too long."

Samantha nodded and rose. On the way to the bullpen, she noticed two figures standing in front of the elevators. She stopped abruptly. It was Terry and Janice. Something about the way they stood together made her instinctively move slightly towards the wall so as not to be so noticeable. Silently, she watched them.

They were speaking animatedly. Janice gestured with her hand, then placed it on Terry's arm and laughed. She leaned forward slightly. The intimacy of that action and her expression made Samantha's heart slow. Terry then covered Janice's hand with his own large one, and they stood looking at one another a long moment. When he moved and released her hand, she lifted it to touch his cheek, then said something that made Terry smile down at her. A chill went down Samantha's spine when he put his arm around the small woman's shoulders. It wasn't, she thought, a brotherly gesture. In fact, nothing she had seen had said 'just friends' - it had screamed something else entirely. There was a ping, and then the elevator doors swooped open. The two stepped inside and the doors closed, quickly hiding them from sight.

Oh, God... Samantha thought.

She turned to look in the direction of Jack's office. He obviously had no idea..

She turned back to look at the elevators. What would a betrayal like this do to him?

End Chapter 24