CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Frost's voice swims in her head as she enters the Division One café. It is feint. Like an echo.
What did we miss miss what did we miss?
Around and around. A ghostly whisper that tickles her ears as she pumps coffee into her empty cup.
Damn cold case cold this better not turn into a damn cold damn cold case.
Not content with haunting her dreams last night, he's been bugging the snot out of her all day. She wishes he were here, instead of being just a name engraved on the foyer wall, so she could smack him upside the head. Tell him to get out of hers.
So, okay… they've hit a bit of a wall and their case has stalled at the exact same point as before. It doesn't mean Maura has double the amount bodies on her metal tables downstairs.
But that's how it feels. Like double the failure.
Even the notion that they – she - might be beaten twice by the same killer sends a grotesque and nauseating ripple of dread down to her stomach.
They've worked hard today and have almost everything they need. The body farm access list and a statement from the grad student who worked security. The victim's ID and her resignation letter. The generic rope fibers and that same hideous housecoat.
And even though she's sure the answer lies within the pile of papers on her desk, she'd had to get up and take a break.
But it is short-lived as she's snapped out of staring off into space by Korsak barking her name from the doorway.
"I thought I might find you here. You'll wanna come back upstairs. I think Nina's got something!"
"Okay," she says, quickly pours some sugar in her cup and follows him back to the bullpen.
"When you insisted I run the victim's physical description through missing persons, I found a woman who went missing last week that matches the profile. Sammy Harper."
"Let me guess…" Jane drawls, holds fingertips to her temples and squints hard. "She's a… waitress!"
"Close," Nina smirks, points at the woman's details on the screen. "Accountant."
"Oh," Jane deflates. Not close at all. Sometimes she forgets how unreliable these alternate reality details can be.
"And I think I found a connection between Sammy and Charlotte," Nina adds.
"Really?!" she squeaks. This is what they need. The missing piece.
"The same guy delivered Clear Spring bottled water to the office building and the body farm."
Jane's frown is deep, skeptical. "But we went over and over Dr. Carlson's list. It was a woman who delivered water to the body farm."
"It is now, but I looked up her employment records, and it turns out she's only been working the route for about ten months, so I checked with Clear Spring. Before her, it was a man called Jeffrey Tyler."
"Dr. Carlson said she saw wheel marks in that area." Technically, it's only half a lie. Dr. Carlson did mention wheel marks. But it was the former Dr. Carlson and he was under interrogation at the time. It's a minor detail that Nina doesn't need to know and should be of little consequence in the long run. "They could have been from the dolly he used to deliver the water."
Nina nods. "I bet he kept a key to the padlock, too."
"You got an address for this guy?" Korsak cuts in, sounds as keen as she feels to check out their one new lead.
"318 Carlyle Avenue."
"Okay, we gotta go," she rushes. Wonders on the way out if she and Frost ever would have gotten this far. Knows neither of them would have thought to dig deeper than their initial background checks. Can't pinpoint anyone in the precinct who might have thought of doing that.
No one but Nina.
"You are officially amazing!" she says as she back tracks and sticks her head around the doorframe of BRIC. Gets a bright beaming smile as a result. One that she returns before finally heading out.
"A home this tidy is not what I expected from a deranged psychopath," Korsak says as they pick their way through the contents of Jeffrey Tyler's living room.
"Well, you can't judge a book by its cover." She drops the suspect's mail on the couch having deemed it unsuspicious and moves toward the office desk at the back of the room.
"Huh -"
Jane's head whips around to find Korsak holding up a picture frame. "What do you got?"
"Family photo," he says, turns it around to face her.
It shows two adults and a child, presumably the suspect and his parents and clearly from decades ago. Her eyes widen as she takes in the mother's familiar clothing. "Oh, now we know why the victim wore a housecoat."
"Yeah, it reminded him of dear old mom," Korsak grimaces, puts the frame back down with a shudder. "Looks like you were right."
Jane scoops up a piece of paper from the desk and her stomach somersaults. This is definitely their sicko. "This is a first draft of Sammy Harper's resignation letter, typos and all."
"That means he's already got her," Korsak points out, and it just makes her feel nauseous and desperate.
"But where is he holding her?"
"Call Nina," he says, and she can't get her phone out fast enough. "We need to know everything that she can find on Jeffrey Tyler and his family."
It only rings twice before the call connects and she routes it to speakerphone.
"Hey. We're knee-deep in nothing here. Have you found anything else on this guy?"
"Well, Jeffrey Tyler has a long history of mental illness."
"Oh, who would have guessed that?" She raises her eyebrows at Korsak who rolls his eyes, equally unsurprised.
"He was hospitalized several times as a teenager for depression. And his criminal record lists two arrests for assault and battery."
Jane frowns and mutters, "I wonder what set him off?"
"His mother was murdered by his father in 1978."
"Apple doesn't fall far from the freak tree," Korsak scoffs.
"His dad did 36 years in prison and died there last year."
"I'd call that a triggering incident, wouldn't you, Detective?" and she nods.
"I certainly would, Sergeant."
"I looked over the trial transcripts. The father was consumed with controlling the mother. She disobeyed him and he hanged her."
"Okay, so…" She rubs a hand over her forehead and sighs. "Jeffrey is definitely our guy. We need to find some other place that he could be holding her."
"He has no living relatives. The guy was a loner. It seems he didn't play nice with others. But I have his parents' old address. The deeds are still in their name."
Of course they are, she muses bitterly. Wants to kick herself in the ass for not thinking of it sooner. "We're gonna need that address."
Flanked by SWAT team members, they take position by the front door in silence. If the commotion inside is any indication, this is definitely the place.
They're trying to get an exact lock on the suspect and hostage, so that nothing goes awry, when a booming, angry voice shatters their composure.
"WHEN I SAY I WANT MY DINNER ON THE TABLE, IT DAMN WELL BETTER BE THERE!"
"NO!" shrieks a sobbing female and Jane makes an urgent signal for someone to bust the door in right now!
"I'LL TEACH YOU TO OBEY ME!" Jeffrey threatens, wielding a large kitchen knife as they swarm the house.
Jane bears down on him gun first with heavy footsteps and a murderous scowl. "POLICE! Put the knife down!"
But he's already spinning around, grabbing Sammy from behind and pressing the knife to her throat. "You drop it or I'll cut her!"
"PUT IT DOWN!" she barks, plants her feet and sets him in her gun sight.
But he only clutches at Sammy harder and the woman hisses as the blade nicks delicate skin.
"Alright, alright," Korsak soothes from her right. He holsters his gun and holds out both palms as her eyes dart back and forth. "You don't want to hurt her," he offers as softly as his gravelly voice will allow. Draws Jeffrey's attention as he takes a careful step forward.
Jane uses the distraction to move a little to her left.
"And we don't want to hurt you," Korsak continues. "So, just relax… and put… the knife… down."
It's a worthwhile effort, trying to end things peacefully, since they themselves are in no immediate danger. But as Jane shifts further and Korsak tries to step forward again, Jeffrey is clearly unwilling to cooperate.
It's not working, and he does the opposite of relax. She sees the veins in his forearm stand out as he tenses.
There's a shift in his stance, a slight quiver to the knife, and then Sammy screams as Jane's shot rings out.
BANG!
"Aah!" Jeffrey slams to the floor and the knife skitters away across the parquet as he clutches a bloodied shoulder.
Weeping loudly and with trembling hands covering her ears, Sammy is frozen in place, her face white with shock.
Jane steps forward and leans in to pull the woman away. Almost spits on Jeffrey as he rolls in agony, "You won't be cutting anybody."
Korsak circles around, manhandles Jeffrey until he's sat on his butt. "Get your hands behind your back."
Jane watches as they cuff him and haul him up onto his feet. Sammy's face buried into her shirt as if she can't look at the man who has no doubt cursed her with nightmares for the foreseeable future. "It's okay. It's all right," she soothes, lets the terrified woman clutch onto her for dear life as she strokes her blonde head. Feels the girl tremble and shake in her arms.
"Oh god, thank you."
"Shh. You're okay."
The capture of their suspect and rescue of their victim feels bittersweet. There's a void somewhere in her chest where a powerful rush should be. And her breath hitches as a vision of Sarah Hamilton flashes behind her eyes until she blinks it away.
Bracing Sammy by housecoat-covered shoulders, she turns and eagerly leads the way outside where an ambulance awaits. "Come on. Let's get you home."
Home. That'll be hours from now, especially for herself and the rest of the team. Long after the evidence collection and the witness statements and the reports.
And yet she can't help it as her mind skips ahead. Wishes all of those hours away, to a point where the case is wrapped up and she can escape. Can relieve the anticipation and restlessness that is already starting to make her itch.
Because the sooner it is done, the sooner she can leave. Can run back to her old life and take care of unfinished business.
The 3am alarm wakes her with a start.
Jolts her from peaceful oblivion with such urgency that she slams a kneecap into the underside of the dashboard. "AGH!" Shocks herself again as she twists, striking the steering wheel with her elbow and blasting the horn. "God dammit!"
Rubbing her knee, she silences the alarm and then forces herself to still, to close her eyes and breathe deeply. Wills her galloping heart to slow and feels the pounding in her chest gradually lessen.
Her commitment to avoid any unnecessary bruises isn't off to a good start. But then, even with the best intentions, sleeping in the car probably wasn't her finest idea.
She's had the alarm set to go off every hour. Has waited patiently for those lights to show up and now, finally, she sees them. Sparkling in the dark. Lighting up a portion of the alleyway like it's Christmas among the trashcans.
It's about time. As comfortable as her driver's seat is, she didn't really want to be out here all night. Had tried not to dwell on what if – what if it didn't show up? What if she'd had to go home to Maura and try to explain where she'd been?
But it did show up. So she climbs out of the vehicle and stretches stiff limbs. Commits to being more cautious this time as she strides down the alleyway.
Once in front of the steel door, she stares. Squints a little less than she did the last time. Like someone has used a dimmer and turned down the intensity a notch or two. Like it's losing its power and she doesn't want to think about what that might mean.
Hand outstretched, she steps toward it. Inches slowly closer until her fingertips start to disappear. Braces all her strength against the pull and succeeds in staying her ground.
She holds her breath as she shuffles forward a little. Watches as her fingers and palm vanish from view and leave her staring at nothing but white.
Her hand tingles painfully and she winces. It feels like her tendons and muscles are being pulled and squeezed all at once. Trying to wiggle her fingers achieves nothing. Just doubles the pain and she's quick to yank her hand back out.
But at least the doorway didn't tug her through unprepared this time.
Huh… There's another strange and unsettling thought…
She felt its strength, but was able to resist. Like it's... weakened somehow. Maybe she left it too late tonight, caught it closer to whatever time it normally fades out. She promises herself she won't sleep so long next time - It's easier than contemplating other, scarier theories on what might be happening to her doorway.
Calming herself, she fills her lungs and tries to relax. Works her neck and flexes her shoulders, reasons the less tense she is, the less it might hurt.
Closing her eyes, she takes one big step forward. It's time to find out.
The gift bag she finds on the kitchen counter when she walks into her apartment almost gives her a coronary.
'To help your exhaustion. With love x' it says on the tag in a familiar looping script.
"Ugh. You're killing me, Maura," she breathes, eyes to the ceiling.
Peering at the contents, she finds variations on the bath salts and insoles she already received from the blonde, as well as several jars of ridiculously expensive eye cream and moisturizer.
With a shake of her head, she pushes the bag aside. Tries not to think about what the gifts mean in this life. As if it wasn't painfully clear.
Stomping to the bathroom, she lets out a huge sigh. Knows she shouldn't equate the actions of a friend with those of a lover but can't help herself. Not when those actions are identical and fraught with affection.
She fills the bathtub and removes her clothes. Thinks a hot bath might aide relaxation and help her brain switch off for a while. She doesn't want to dwell on the fact that she could be lying next to Maura right now, if only she weren't so stubborn.
But not thinking about Maura at all is impossible, and she stalks back out into the kitchen with a growl.
She's never needed fancy salts before, never used any fancy creams. And would never go out of her way to buy either for herself. But it doesn't mean she can't enjoy a gift in the privacy of her own apartment, right? Nobody has to know she secretly likes it.
And so she snatches the gift bag from the kitchen counter, springs barefoot back to the bathroom and slams the door.