CHAPTER NINE
She fights the urge to stare, the urge to pinch him and check it's not a dream. Reads as much as she can from the screen without tipping him off and sips her coffee as she follows along.
"The victim is Charlotte Milson. Dr. Isles said she'd been in the ground for twelve months before she was accidentally dug up beneath one of the test corpses at the body farm."
She raises an eyebrow and murmurs, "Talk about the perfect place to dump her."
"Mm-hm," he concurs absently, changes the screen with a couple of keystrokes. "Looks like death from strangulation, or maybe hanging, given the rope fibers on her neck."
"Hanging victims are usually suicides," she states with a deep frown. "Suicides don't move themselves to the body farm afterwards. That doesn't make any sense."
"Right!" he exclaims, shakes his head. "Dr. Isles said the same thing. It's weird. Maybe tox will show she was drugged or something."
"Yeah," she breathes, rolls a hand for him to continue recapping, as if this isn't all brand new to her.
"The housecoat and slippers she was wearing are unremarkable, though Dr. Isles did say the housecoat manufacturer closed down in 2006 -"
"Trust Maura to know about the clothes - Who wears a ten year old housecoat anyway?" she challenges, her thoughts overlapping as she speaks them aloud. "Most young women don't wear that. She's dressed like my mother," she says as she pulls an exaggerated face.
He laughs heartily at that, and she snickers. Glances around - as if it isn't too late, the words having already left her mouth - to check Angela isn't nearby. She's made that mistake before. Whether it was bad luck or bad timing, either way she recalls getting a sharp clip to the ear for her trouble. This time, what her Ma doesn't know won't hurt.
"I matched her age and description to several women that went missing twelve months ago," he continues, changes the screen again. "Charlotte's sister provided enough information for Dr. Isles to ID her using dental records. Korsak said she was a mess when he met with her. Thought her sister was still alive all this time.
"That's gotta be rough," Jane murmurs into her coffee.
"Yeah. BPD did investigate when she disappeared. Didn't find anything odd though. Just said she'd given her notice at work, even gave the sister a copy of the resignation letter. She showed it to Korsak when he interviewed her."
She looks back at the screen and finds a photo of a very serious man in a tweed jacket. The caption reads Professor of Forensic Anthropology and she imagines he has a pompous attitude and an English accent.
"Dr. Carlson at the body farm was adamant he didn't know how the body got there." Frost points a finger at a large screen on the wall. Starts playing something that looks like CCTV. "He said the whole site was restricted access. But I finally got through all the time-lapse footage from the security cameras. Noticed a couple of research students on there in between the wild animals."
She watches the jumpy images, sees a young man enter the corner of the frame. "So people do have access!"
He nods emphatically. "I'm waiting for him to send over a list of all the people that could have been in and out of there in the last year."
Jane's eyebrows shoot up, "Wow. Bet he loves you."
"You ever get the feeling you've just ruined someone's day?" Frost chuckles.
He's not sorry and she can't blame him. Sounds like 'pompous' wasn't far off the mark. They don't take pleasure in being difficult or demanding during investigations, but they come across obstructive witnesses such as Dr. Carlson far too often.
Grinning, she says, "He's a professor… typically they're -" Obstinate? Crabby? Bad mannered? She has an idea but she can't finish it, just shrugs and wrinkles her nose instead as her thoughts flicker to Jack. If she's honest, he's none of the stereotypical things she'd associate with a stuffy professor.
She should like him. But she can't.
"He's a dick," Frost blurts and she smiles, loves his directness. "But it's a lead. When I get the list, I'll background check everyone."
"Okay, well…" she sighs, calm and assured, now fully up-to-speed. "I guess just… let me know what you find out. I'll check VICAP for staged suicides. See if any other cases match ours."
They're no further along when lunchtime rolls around.
She asks Frost if he wants to go with her to meet Maura at the Dirty Robber, but he declines. So she heads out alone.
It would have been nice to have him there, she thinks. After the emotional upheaval of yesterday's 'death' bombshell and all. She likes spending time with him, and he'd be a pleasant distraction.
On the other hand, she muses as she ducks inside the doorway, she does get the beautiful doctor all to herself for an hour or two. In that respect, she's quite happy to forgo any distractions.
Their eyes meet the instant she enters, and the way Maura watches her walk toward the booth heats her blood. It doesn't take much to exaggerate her swagger just a little, slow down just a touch. Drag it out. Make it last. Whatever this is.
The suit has something to do with it, she guesses. Maura's smile is teasing, sultry maybe, and just a tiny bit smug. Pleased with herself no doubt, for picking it out. Pleased that Jane wore it without arguing. She knows it looks good, that she looks good, and Maura seems to be enjoying the view.
It's all she can do to keep her eyes up, feels unusually shy and a little off balance. But she figures if Maura can be brazen in her appreciation then she can, too. And so she lets herself look, flutters long eyelashes and uses a sultry smile of her own as confident strides carry her closer.
The last step brings her right up to the booth. Brings her eyes past the tall wooden partition that backs the seat on this side of the table.
"I hope you don't mind…" Maura begins, as she leans forward against the table's edge, straining the scooped neckline of her dress in ways that Jane doesn't mind at all.
But then an outstretched hand brings her attention to the man sat opposite. And her face falls as Maura finishes, "… I asked Jack to join us for lunch."
"Jack!" she squeaks, plasters on grin she knows is painfully unconvincing. "Hi."
"Hi, Jane," he half smiles, gives a feeble wave.
"What a …surprise," she husks, her voice a dry scratchy laugh. Curses her treacherous brain for almost inserting the word nice.
The next five seconds are long and uncomfortable, as she stands beside the booth, nervous hands clasped below her belt buckle. She could sit down next to Jack, opposite her friend as would be the norm, or she could sit next to -
"Sit, sit!" Maura rushes her, and the decision is made.
She swallows hard as she scoots in next to the blonde. Well this isn't awkward.
"Let's order before it gets any busier," Maura suggests brightly. Puts a hand firmly on her thigh in the process of leaning across to get a server's attention.
With the doctor's lips mere inches from her face, the realization that the first option would have been much less torturous is instantaneous. It fizzes through her system, lights her nerves up like a stun gun. Makes her want to scream internally.
"What would you like to drink?" Maura asks, still so, so close and Jane tries not to squirm. Tries to return Jack's naïve and friendly smile and oh god he's going to be looking right at her the entire time. It's hard to imagine a more uncomfortable scenario.
"Jane?" Maura nudges.
"Hm?" Her face snaps around and she realizes she hasn't responded to the question. Notices two drinks already on the table that they must have ordered before she arrived. "Water," she croaks, coughs to clear her throat. Calls, "Water please!" to the passing server and hears how frazzled she sounds.
Maura passes out the large food menus and sits back. Grants her some relief as she unfolds it. At least she can hide her reddening face now.
But then the blonde leans in again, ducks behind. Hides them both from Jack with two menus now butted together. "You seemed a little off this morning," she whispers theatrically. "Are you feeling better?"
"I'm fine," she says, eyes firmly on the menu.
"Are you sure? You can tell me if anything's bothering you -"
"Honest," she breathes, hates herself as she turns and smiles, "I'm perfect." A reassuring wink seals the deal. I promise.
She may have her life back the way it was, but this life, she realizes – and this situation in particular – is a fresh kind of hell.
Only once Maura moves away again can she relax, her face alone hidden behind the food menu. The last forced smile pained her, so it's a relief to allow it to drop off. Sadly, she notes, her legendary appetite seems to have vanished, too.
Somebody kill me.
When she swaggers into the crime lab fifteen minutes later, she makes a beeline for Maura's Senior Criminalist. "What's up, Chang?" she hollers as she strides up behind the woman, enjoys watching the shoulders of a bright white lab coat flinch in surprise.
"Detective Rizzoli," Susie smiles, adjusts her glasses as she turns around. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. Dr. Isles said you were going out to lunch."
"I rushed back," she shrugs, hooks her thumbs behind her belt buckle and bounces up on her toes. "This case won't solve itself." Her excitement is genuine; she lives for results that can move a case forward. As it happens, the opportunity to ditch Maura and Jack was also too good to pass up.
"Well, we got the tox screen back for Charlotte Milson," Susie informs her, retrieves a printed report.
"And I have a feeling she wasn't clean…" Jane guesses with a squint.
Susie hands her the page. "Your victim had low levels of the tranquilizer ketamine in her system. This kind of low dose would allow the victim to function, but be easily controlled."
"That would play into how she was killed," she notes.
"It would also explain why the hanging looked more like a suicide than a violent murder at first."
"So now we know how. We just don't know why… or who… yet," she adds after a pause. "I gotta go. Thank you for this," she says, waves the report in the air as she heads out.
"You're welcome, Detective."
She finds Frost sitting back at his own desk when she returns to the bullpen. He's as happy as a lamb. Face beaming as she approaches and that can only mean good news.
But her face pales as she spots a familiar action figure sitting on his desk. "Hey, where'd that doll come from?"
"Action figure!" he tuts. Picks up the toy and moves one of the arms so it waves at her from in front of his face. "Guardian Chogokin is mine now. Frankie lost a bet. Why?"
"Oh, no reason," she dismisses. Wonders how on earth such silly items can end up having a heart-stopping amount of sentimental value. "Susie confirmed Charlotte was drugged," she informs him. Gets herself back on track as she slides the report into the case file on her desk and reclines into her chair.
"Not a suicide," he states with a sweeping turn of his head. Grins at her and Korsak in turn, as if they didn't even need the confirmation.
"Nope," she chirps. Flicks her chin up in his direction. "Get anything from that list of people with access?"
"I researched everyone," he explains, animated and excited. "Students, professors, groundskeepers, vendors. And I found a former grad student who was responsible for locking up at night." He leans in, stabs an index finger down onto a file folder of his own as he continues. "About a year ago, he was at the body farm late one night doing some field research. And then he runs into Professor Carlson, who was all dirty and agitated, right? Carlson yells at the guy, tells him to get out, the place is closed."
"Right around the time the body goes into the ground," she grumbles. Scowls at the thought as she leans forward, mirrors his hunched shoulders. "No wonder he wasn't very cooperative."
"He didn't want to go to jail."
"All right, well, I'm not going to the dead zone," she sighs. Reclines again. "Have the professor brought in. And let's hope he's a bit more cooperative today."
"Have a seat, Dr. Carlson," Jane says, pulls out a metal chair of her own as Frost sits beside her.
For long moments, the stony-faced man stands stiffly on the opposite side of the table. No doubt still sore about the way in which he was abruptly escorted from his day job to the police station.
But they wait in silence. Stare up at him until he gives in, plops heavily into a seat like a petulant child removed from playtime for bad behavior.
She nods at Frost to take the lead, since it was his discovery that got them here.
"We have a witness that puts you at the body farm right around the time our victim was buried there," he informs the man. "You can help yourself if you tell us the truth. Is there anything you would like to say about that night?"
Dr. Carlson lets out a heavy sigh, then murmurs, "I was there."
"Doing what?" Frost pushes.
"The university hired me to take over the body farm operation, clean it up. That night I was making my rounds. I discovered some fresh dirt and what looked like wheel marks leading away from it. I thought maybe someone had removed one of the research corpses, hauled the body off with a dolly. I figured it was just a college prank, or some sort of fraternity hazing."
"Our witness said you were agitated and dirty."
"Well, of course I was agitated," the professor snips. "I was brought here to make sure things like this didn't happen."
Jane squints as she catches his omission. "That doesn't explain why you were covered with dirt."
Dr. Carlson sighs again, throws his hands up. "I had looked around to see where the body might have been taken from. A couple of the research corpses are buried under trash piles. I moved it to make sure they weren't missing."
"And you didn't explain any of this to the university?" she asks as her eyebrows lift, shakes her head in disbelief. As wild as the story is, they can't discount it. Not when they have no evidence to the contrary.
"No," he insists. "There was no reason to. All the bodies were present and accounted for, so I decided that what I'd seen didn't matter."
"Okay," Jane huffs, leaves a grand pause while she folds her arms, sinks a little in her chair. "Let me get this straight… You want us to believe what actually happened that night… is someone else buried a murder victim beneath one of your research corpses?"
"Yes."
One look at Frost is enough to confirm he's thinking pretty much the same thing.
Looks like we're back to square one.
A/N: As always credit goes to Tess Gerritsen and TNT for creating these characters. My thanks to Orison for everything she does to help me as I strive to improve my writing. We're borrowing the case from Deadly Harvest here, so you may recognize it in the re-telling, however the case itself isn't as important as the characters involved in solving it. And before anyone blows up about Jack, chill. I promise this IS a Rizzles fic.