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chapter six

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i could feel it go down
you left the sweetest taste in my mouth
your silver lining the clouds
oh and i -- i wonder what it's all about

i wonder what it's all about

everything i know is wrong
everything i do just comes undone
and everything is torn apart
-Coldplay, "The Hardest Part"

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To Martin's right, Sam shivered and leaned forward to shift the air conditioning vent away from her. "Where are we headed?"

He noticed her obvious discomfort with the vehicle temperature and twisted the knob to turn the fan to minimum. He occasionally forgot how easily she could get chilled even when the sun was shining. "The marina about five minutes from here. Coast Guard called me while we were at the house; they said they had something they needed us to take a look at."

The shrill ring from Sam's cell phone interrupted, and he heard her flip it open to answer. "Spade -- Oh, hey Elena. What do you have?"

Up ahead, Martin saw the traffic light turn red and put his foot on the brakes. Once the vehicle had stopped completely in the line of traffic, he cautioned a glance to his right as Sam listened to Elena on the other end of the phone.

Even after everything that they had been through, he admired the way that she could pull herself together to work at a time when so much was obviously going on in her personal life. Of course, her ability to shove her issues and problems to one side and act as though nothing was bothering her had - at one point in time - frustrated him to no end. But that time was over, and worrying about her as a coworker and a friend was far easier than worrying about her as her ... whatever they had been.

Time may have passed, but he still refused to call what they had just "sleeping together," even if she herself did. There was no point in sugar coating her feelings, but he had never been a master of hiding his. Nor had he ever wanted to.

The light turned green again, and he pushed his right foot back down on the accelerator. He thought back to a time when he had been in a similar position, and she had been his support. Back before they allowed "them" to get complicated, and he naively thought the future was full of potential...

Martin refilled his coffee mug for the fourth time that morning. The hot bitter liquid burned his throat as he took a long sip.

His chest heaved, tight with discontent. He had considered taking the day off because he was in no mental state to be working right now. But he did not want to have to explain that he needed time off because his aunt, the one person who had always been there for him, was dying -- faster than the doctors had anticipated. Besides, there was not a lot that he could do for Aunt Bonnie other than give her the space and time that she and Roger needed to adjust to her rapidly worsening prognosis. He had barely even spoken to them since arriving at the hospital on Saturday, just a few brief words about arranging home health care and making decisions about whether or not it would be wise to continue dialysis given Aunt Bonnie's progressive renal failure and its effect on her overall health.

Behind him, the lounge door swung open and Vivian walked in. "Hey, Martin. DNA just came back on the hair we found in the car. Get this: it's Frank Nardone's."

Martin swallowed and turned around to face her. With an upbeat sarcasm that he did not feel, he replied, "Ahh, the plot thickens."

"Yes, it does." Vivian nodded and pulled the door to the refrigerator open. She leaned back against the counter, opening the plastic container and beginning to pick her fork through her salad. She looked up at him, concerned. "So, are you doing alright?"

"I'm fine," he said defensively and clutched his mug tighter with his hand.

"Okay." Vivian agreed with a tone that said she probably didn't believe him. She did not press the matter. "We should take another look at Nardone's bank statement. I'm having a hard time believing that a man who was as devoted a father as everyone said he was would have just up and left. Maybe there's something that we missed the first time..."

"I'll go see if anything jumps out at me." Martin rotated his neck until he heard the familiar cracking noise. "Later, Viv," he called over his shoulder as he retreated back to the conference table.

Danny sat on one end, files spread out in front of him. Martin turned back to his desk to locate where he had put their missing person's bank statements when he noticed a small yellow post it note sticking out from underneath his computer keyboard.

He picked up the note, recognizing the tiny feminine script immediately.

'Lunch on me if you're up for it. Let me know. --S.'

Sam. He had been almost embarrassed to face her this morning after the way he had broken down on Saturday night at the hospital. When he ran into her right outside the building, though, she had smiled reassuringly and his nervous anticipation at facing her at the office had been replaced by the way his heart began to beat rapidly in his chest.

She had been out of the office for the majority of the morning interviewing several of their missing persons classmates and teachers. Obviously, though, she was back.

He smiled in spite of himself and pocketed the tiny slip of paper.

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Sam exhaled and snapped her phone shut, visibly more comfortable now that she found the car temperature agreeable. "That was Elena. They just got forensics back on Tylman's vehicle: the blood sample they matched with Natalie's was positive -- it's her blood. The DNA from the hair matched, too."

The trained investigator in him kicked in, pushing personal thoughts to one side. "So what are we thinking: Freeman meets Natalie somewhere and they start seeing each other, but it's all part of some bigger scheme to lure her away from home."

"I think Natalie was a target. She fits with his profile of past vics, and all of her friends said she felt smothered by her ex-boyfriend. She must have been looking for a reason to break it off with him; I think Tylman used Freeman to draw her out," Sam spoke rapidly, the wheels in her head obviously turning as she went with her theory. "Crazier things have happened."

He nodded subconsciously and noted the large green exit sign on the right side of the highway. "You're right -- it wouldn't be the first time."

"I've been right more than once before, you know," Sam laughed softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

"None of that fake indignant crap." He returned her light laughter and pulled the steering wheel to direct the car onto the exit ramp.

"Anyway," Sam continued, her voice serious now. "No one reports seeing any disturbances by the school, so my guess is that she went willingly and it went bad later when Natalie realized what was going on."

He took one hand off of the wheel long enough to run it along his face. "Makes sense," he agreed.

Martin turned into the parking lot and pulled into a space near the front of the lot by the other Coast Guard vehicles. It was a public marina but, due to grey, cloudy skies, strong wind, and reports of afternoon storms, it was essentially devoid of civilians.

The breeze blew in from the water and felt cool as it whipped against his face. A few steps ahead, he watched as Samantha's hair blew every which way and, frustrated, she pulled it up and out of her face.

"Agents?" A tall, lanky man in uniform standing at the base of the main dock called out to them. He nodded in acknowledgement as they approached, and spoke in a firm voice through a heavy Brooklyn accent. "Lieutenant Torres, I spoke to one of you on the phone?"

"That would be me," Martin extended his right hand. "Agent Fitzgerald. This is my partner, Agent Spade."

"You said you had something to show us?" Sam leaned forward, eyes scanning the scene about thirty feet in front of where they stood.

Martin's eyes followed in the same direction to see several other uniformed officers standing together in a large group near the jagged rocks along the shoreline. The officers were hovering over something, their backs to where he and Samantha stood with Lt. Torres. Martin did not have a good view of what the officers were standing over, but he had a good idea anyway. From Sam's tone of voice, he suspected she did too.

"We found her washed up against the rocks," Torres said matter-of-factly and motioned for Sam and Martin to follow. "When we heard over the radio that the FBI was looking for a girl about her age, with similar features, we called your SAC right away. We were hoping you could make an ID for us, otherwise we're going to need to open a new case." Torres paused, lowering his voice as they approached the four officers who stood by the rocks. "From the looks of it, she's only been dead a few hours."

The other officers stepped aside as Lt. Torres introduced them, giving them a view of the body that lay out on the rocks. Martin took three steps forward and leaned his body over the dead girl's outstretched form. Beside him, he felt Sam follow suit.

The body lay face up, limp and lifeless against the rocks. Bits of seaweed were stuck in her dark hair, and her obviously expensive clothes were ripped and tattered, matted down against her body.

Sam leaned in closer to inspect the knife wounds on the girls torso and abdomen. "Fits with Tylman's M.O."

"Is this your girl?" Lt. Torres called from where he stood with the other officers.

Martin took out the photo of the girl he had kept in his jacket pocket, a copy of Natalie Burris' last yearbook photograph. He glanced at the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl who smiled back at him through the glossy photograph, eyes sparkling and full of life, and then back at the girl who lay in front of them, her body bruised, bloody, and several beaten. "Yes," he lowered his eyes and his voice broke slightly. "This is our girl."

"What happened?" Torres inquired as Martin turned back around. "You don't usually get girls wearing Lilly Pulitzer out here..."

"Vulnerable teenage girl falls victim to a serial rapist and murderer," Sam answered simply, her back still to Lt. Torres and the other officers. She cast another glance at Natalie's lifeless body, inhaled audibly, and turned around.

"It's a shame." Torres shook his head and muttered to himself, his accent growing thicker through his obvious frustration. "This girl looks like she had everything, such a waste... Where are the parents when all of this is going on?"

"The parents were where parents always are when something like this is going on," Sam whispered from where she stood beside him. "They were somewhere else."

Martin remained silent, not sure he could disagree with her even if he wanted to.

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