Chapter 10

Nathan Fitzgerald, the director of the IA division, stalked into the office with a copy of a small town newspaper in his hand. It had been sent by overnight express mail. What it contained was completely disturbing. He entered his office, nodding slightly to his secretary, Mary. She was a young woman, barely three years out of college. She was still green enough to fear his presence. Honestly, he didn't give a ripe damn what she did with her time as long as she got him what he needed in a timely manner. If she wanted to play on the computer all day, hitting Facebook [tm], checking status updates, or even playing games, he didn't care. What he cared about right now was that a psycho had written a letter to a swamp town paper, threatening to kidnap and kill two women. Other than that, he was pretty open-minded.

Fitzgerald carried the paper into his office and spread it out to view the letter. It had been on the presses and out to the good citizens of Brandonvale before anyone noticed the letter. Apparently, the editor-in-chief at the paper didn't feel it necessary to make an emergency contact. He remembered the short and sweet conversation he had had with the man. "We thought the guy was just dicking around," was what the editor said. When he actually read the letter, he screamed at the poor idiot for about an hour. The instant the paper received the letter, he should have called the FBI. It was as simple as that. Along with the paper, Fitzgerald had the actual letter sent to the newspaper. He immediately bagged it and sent it to the techs to determine if there were any fingerprints. He was certain there wouldn't be. After lecturing the poor Brandonvale Courier editor for a good twenty minutes, he let him off the hook, but didn't hesitate to tell him that if anyone else had died, it would fall on his shoulders. Oh yes it would.

"Director Fitzgerald, you have a fax waiting for you from Mayor Cunningham from Brandonvale."

He looked up from the newspaper and gave Mary a cursory glance. "That's fine. I'll read it when I finish with this cluster fuck awaiting us. I want you to contact Rachel Sloane. I want her in on this. We will tell the other agencies as soon as we figure out our plans of attack."

"Okay, sir," she said. "Anything else?"

"Nope. Get busy. That's all I want."

Rachel awoke from a sound sleep, noticing that she was still wrapped carefully in Donovan's embrace. He had yet to stir and she decided it would be a shame to wake him, but she had to stop by her law office for a quick check in, then she was due at the IA division to keep Fitzgerald abreast of what she had accomplished. She completely dreaded it. She wanted nothing to do with this case. Still, she made a promise to herself that she would work it until it was solved. It didn't matter how long it might take, she would do it.

She carefully unwrapped herself from his arms. He mumbled something in his sleep, but didn't open his eyes. Good. She wanted a chance to hit the bathroom, shower, and take care of other things that needed to be done. One of those was quelling her morning sickness. She was a private puker, hating the idea of anyone hearing her vomit. The morning sickness usually hit her not long after she left the comfort of bed. She could almost count on it by the time of day. Carefully, she padded quietly to the bathroom and managed to get the door closed just as it hit. She thanked God for small miracles.

After her shower, she felt much better. She hadn't thought to bring anything to wear, as she had no idea she would spend the night with Donovan, tucked snugly in his arms. Although she didn't want to do it, she would have to put on yesterday's clothes. That was okay. She could stop off at her house before hitting her offices. When she opened the bathroom door and entered the bedroom again, she noticed that Donovan was coming alive, stretching, yawning, and getting his bearings. He hadn't forgotten she was there, because as soon as he saw her, he smiled her way. Nervously, she returned it. She still didn't know what this meant for them, if anything. She was pregnant with another man's baby, wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do about it, and she certainly didn't want him to feel obligated to her.

"How do you feel this morning," he asked, desperately trying to fix his mussed hair.

She nearly laughed at that. He wasn't accustomed to the long hair anymore. He acted as if he sometimes resented the fact it was there. "I think I'm doing as good as to be expected. And you?"

She slowly walked over to the bed and sat on the side of it. Her clothes were in a neat pile a few inches from her feet. She wasn't exactly in any hurry to get dressed. She had things to do, but she wasn't in any big hurry to do them. She desperately wanted to broach the subject of what was next for them, if anything. The words had a way of dying in her throat. For the life of her, she didn't know why she stayed with him.

"Me too," he said simply. "Rachel, I don't want to upset you, or pressure you, but I have something on my mind."

She didn't face him at that. Instead, she gathered her wrinkled garments and laid them neatly on the bed beside her. While he talked, she would put herself back together. "Go ahead."

"Last night, I felt completely connected to you," he began. "I don't know what to expect to happen. Do we try again? Do we part at this juncture? What do you want?"

She managed to step into her panties, snap her bra, but that was it for the moment. She turned so that she could look at him. "I know what I want. I'd like to try again with you, but we have had so many chances in the past. I have to decide what I want to do with this baby. It has nothing to do with you. And what about Lily? Don't you want to try and patch up your relationship with her? She doesn't want Jack, she wants you. I don't want to ruin your chances of having a normal life."

He took hold of her arm, gently pulling her toward him. He planted a very soft kiss to her mouth. "Let's see what happens. Is that fair enough?"

She smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Fair enough."

Rachel started to go back to what she had been doing when she heard her phone ringing. She picked up her discarded jeans and dug into the front pocket to retrieve her phone. When she saw who was calling, she frowned. Why the hell was Nathan calling this early in the morning? "Hello, Nathan. What do you need?"

"What I need," he said with his naturally gruff voice, "is for you to get your ass in to see me immediately."

"I'll be there in about an hour." She hung up and threw the phone back into her front pocket. She noticed that Donovan was watching her very closely. He wasn't stupid. He knew who 'Nathan' was. "I have to go. Director Fitzgerald calls."

He nodded, showing his understanding in one simple move. "Be careful."

"Always."

After a quick dash into her house for fresh clothing, Rachel made it to the office in a little over an hour. She entered the reception area, immediately taking note of Mary Gold, Nathan's very young secretary. She was a fresh looking redhead, her hair cut into a very short style similar to Lily Wells. Her eyes were emerald green, filled with mirth. Rachel assumed that Mary Gold was probably a hell raiser when she was in college. As soon as Mary saw her enter, she said nothing. She smiled her way, and nodded toward the door to Nathan Fitzgerald's office, which meant he was ready to see her.

Rachel bypassed Mary's desk and entered Nathan's office without knocking. Nathan Fitzgerald was a man in his late thirties. He was very tall, standing almost six feet four. His hair, a very dark brown, was wavy and barely touched his shoulders. His eyes were also very dark brown and often looked black when he focused them on her, reminding her instantly of Jack's eyes. He had a strong jaw, almost square in shape. He turned a lot of heads when he walked by a group of women, but he stayed aloof and focused. Mostly, he was all business. She didn't know if he had a social life. If he did, it was probably as static and staunch as he was. With a pang, Rachel realized that he possessed a lot of characteristics that Jack did. He also seemed a lot like Donovan as well. It was weird how she could find those attributes in men she met.

From his terminal, Fitzgerald glanced up at her with little interest. "About time you showed up," he commented. "Sit down."

She ignored his admonishment and sat down. "What did you think was so important that you had to call me at six this morning?"

He pushed back from his desk in order to open the top drawer. Without a word, he pushed the newspaper toward her, along with a bagged letter. "Read those."

Rachel looked at the bagged letter first. It was from a man who called himself Lincoln. The letter read: Dear Dumb Asses, I am writing to you from sunny Miami, Florida. In a few weeks, Brandonvale will hold its annual county fair. Me and my lovely assistant will be traveling there very soon. We intend to find two dark haired lovelies and end their lives as effectively as we have ended others. We'll be in touch. Love, Lincoln and Holly. She glanced at the newspaper, noticing that the letter had been printed in the small town paper of Brandonvale.

"Do you think it's genuine," she asked after staring at the two documents for what seemed like hours.

"We've shown it to several staff shrinks already. I've also shown it to a couple of profilers. From all opinions, it seems genuine. Serial killers write to newspapers all the time," he explained nonchalantly.

"I know that," she said shortly. "But as far as we know, TSK hasn't written to any papers before. What if it's a copycat? Or some small town Gomer trying to attract attention?"

"It could be," he said with a shrug. "It could be not. Most of our experts think it's genuine. I'm still leaning toward a law enforcement connection, namely another Justice Department employee, whether he is FBI or not is another question altogether. However, I want you on this. I want you to go to the county fair in Brandonvale with the TSK taskforce."

She looked at him as if he had cracked. "Nathan, I'm not a field agent. I'm IA."

"Rachel, I know well who and what you are. It doesn't matter to me. If any of the TSK taskforce is compromised, this is the only way to know. I want you to meet with them today. I have already sent a letter to their director arranging it. You will go with them to this county fair. I'm almost convinced that if a murder happens at this fair, our suspect is on that team."

Rachel stared at Fitzgerald for a very long time. He had told her what he wanted her to do without a blink of an eye or a hesitation in his speech. No one wanted an IA agent hanging around them while they were working. She was sure they would not want her around. Honestly, she didn't want to be around. She didn't want to see Jack or Lily. "I suppose I can't say no."

He leaned toward her, focusing his eyes on her. "No, Rachel, you can't say no. This part of your job is not a negotiation." He stood up, gathered the newspaper and bagged letter. He slid them toward her. "They will be expecting you around ten."

Donovan entered the building and walked toward their complex of offices. He was curious about the call Rachel had received. He knew who Nathan was. Something must have obviously happened. Pushing the thoughts aside, he continued on, noticing immediately that Ashcroft and Lily were seated in the conference room with Hurtz and Lockwood. Bypassing his office for the time being, he entered the room, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat next to Jess Lockwood. Ashcroft had the head seat at the table and was drumming his fingers impatiently. The noise was unnerving, but Donovan wouldn't say anything. Lily had her nose stuck to her laptop. Lockwood and Hurtz were the less oblivious of the group. They were chatting away about plans they had this weekend to see a NASCAR [tm] race.

"What are we meeting about today," Donovan asked.

Ashcroft cut his eyes in Donovan's direction. "We have a case update. Word has it that TSK wrote a letter to a small town newspaper. We're expecting someone at ten to let us know what our next step is."

"Director Buchanan," Donovan asked.

"Not even close," Lily said. "Nathan Fitzgerald from IA is sending one of his agents down to discuss our next step."

"Why would an IA agent do that," Lockwood asked. "Are they pointing fingers at one of us?"

"Who knows," Ashcroft said. "I hate IA."

The information tweaked Donovan's nerves. He knew Rachel had gotten a call this morning from Nathan Fitzgerald. He was certain she would be the IA agent they sent. What in the world did she have to do with this? She wasn't a field agent or a UC as far as he was concerned. She had no reason to be conducting such a meeting.

They didn't have much time to wonder. After about fifteen minutes, Rachel Sloane was shown into the conference room. All of them gave her some bizarre looks, with the exception of Frank Donovan. He wasn't surprised at all. He was almost positive that she would be sent down. He didn't think she should have conducted the meeting, but he had no qualms about expecting her here. He noted stronger looks coming from both Lily and Ashcroft.

Donovan eyed her cautiously. She was dressed professionally, but had an ashen appearance about her. He knew why that was. She was pregnant, facing the man who had gotten her that way, knowing their relationship was over. He noticed how Ashcroft eyed her up and down, completely disgusted that she was here, that she was working IA all the time. He could almost read the other man's thoughts. It was the same set he had in his own head when she admitted she was an agent.

"What the hell is going on here, Rachel," Ashcroft demanded. "When did you become an FBI IA agent?"

She set down her briefcase and popped the clasps to open it. She dug out a sheaf of papers and handed them down to each agent. She had yet to address his question. Donovan wondered if she ever would. That's when she opened her mouth. "Thanks for the question, Jack," she began sarcastically. "I have been working with the IA department for approximately twelve years. I started with the agency just as I began law clerking. I have been assigned to this case since the beginning."

"Why now? Why you? Why were you sent," Lily asked. She considered this woman competition for Donovan's affections. And she was rightly pissed off.

"What I handed each of you is case specs," she began. "Our office received a letter from TSK. It was authenticated earlier by document examiners. This letter was sent first to a small town north of Miami, Brandonvale, Florida. They are planning a county fair in the next few days. The killer has stated he will abduct two women from the fair and kill them. It is your job to go to Brandonvale and ensure this does not happen."

Donovan noticed she was trying hard not to look at him. It hadn't been that long since she left his bed. He supposed she didn't want the others to pick up on it. What did it matter now? Both Lily and Ashcroft were thinking the worst. He gauged the expressions of the others. None of them had ever taken orders from IA. Obviously, their director was in on it, or she wouldn't be here at all. So, what was next? Was she going? Was she going UC with the rest of them?

"Why didn't our director come forward first," Ashcroft asked, as if digging into Donovan's brain, retrieving his thoughts. "Our orders come directly from him, not some IA puke."

"IA puke I might be," Rachel said, focusing her eyes on Ashcroft. "However, my director has been speaking to your director all morning. This was the way of it. I'm heading up the team of agents trying to find the members of your agency who may be helping this killer or who is the killer himself or themselves."

"That's an incredible amount of horseshit," Lockwood said angrily. "Who has ever heard of an FBI agent on the wrong side of the law? Why should we be prepared to offer any assistance to you or your faction?"

"Because I said so," a man's voice said from behind Rachel.

All eyes were on the man who had just entered. It was Director Fitzgerald. He was flanked by their director. They stood in allegiance. How odd it had to have been for their director to accept that the FBI had a dirty agent. Donovan flipped through the thick set of papers. He read the contents quickly, paying a lot of attention to a photocopy of the letter sent to Brandonvale. No one had to be an expert to know that serial killers often did this, but so far, none of them had seen evidence that TSK had done so. What was his purpose? Did they think that simply because they hadn't caught the perpetrator, that it had to be one of them? Did they consider the fact that TSK just might be a bit smarter? Donovan thought about his courses in college. Did some psych course once proclaim that killers always wanted to be caught? Further, if any of them could be the killer, wasn't it slightly stupid to come out and say it? That is, unless it was a tactical shot at the killer to help him confess.

"Does this mean you're coming with us on this jaunt," Hurtz asked Rachel.

"Yes," she answered. "In some capacity."

"Wonderful," Ashcroft said under his breath.

"Jack, do we have any problems with her assistance," Director Buchanan asked sternly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "None at all, Boss."

"It's time to pack your bags, and prepare for the trip," Buchanan told them. "It's a concerted effort. What you need to remember is that neither Agent Sloane nor Director Fitzgerald are pointing fingers in your direction."

"If there are any questions, feel free to ask right now, or call me at my office," Rachel said. "Everything you need is in the packet I gave each of you."

She didn't wait for more ugly looks to be thrown her way. She went into the lobby and headed toward the water fountain. She drank deeply, wishing she could shoot down a glass of scotch. Anything to dull her pain. When she quenched her thirst sufficiently, she turned to exit the building, but was stunned to see Fitzgerald standing behind her, watching her carefully.

"Are you okay," he asked.

She smiled widely, but it was completely fake. "Fine. Thanks for your support in there. If you want to go on to the office, I'll follow you."

He nodded and squeezed her arm. "Sounds good. Check in with me when you get back."

She agreed to do so and started toward the water fountain again. However, something stopped her. The agents had begun to flood out of the conference room. Lily and Ashcroft came first, barely noticing her. Donovan was last. He saw her, but she figured he had been looking for her. He made eye contact with her and then moved his head slightly to the side. He wanted to see her in his office. She nodded discreetly and watched him until he was out of sight. She then went in the direction of his office. His door was open, as he was waiting for her.

She came inside and closed the door behind her. She watched with a grin as Donovan closed the blinds. He obviously didn't want anyone to know she was there. It was okay. She didn't want to run into either Jack or Lily. It was bad enough watching them in the conference room. If looks could kill, she would already be dead.

"I know you weren't prepared for the third degree," Donovan began. "How are you feeling?"

She set her briefcase down on one of the visitor's chairs and sat in the other. "I'm okay. I just didn't expect the ire out of Jack. Lily I can understand, but not Jack."

He kneeled before her and took her hand. "You don't deserve it. You don't deserve a lot of things done and said. Some of it was by me. Do you think you should tag along?"

Rachel smiled. It was the whole protective vibe. He knew she was pregnant, so he was expressing concern. Sleeping together the night before didn't mean they were involved any longer, but he was concerned. She wondered how he had treated his wife when she was pregnant. "I own what I own," she said simply. "As for me, I think I'll be all right. It's no big deal. I just wish you wouldn't be so stubborn. I wish you would go to Lily and tell her you're crazy about her. I know she hurt you, but she's a great gal."

"Always trying to project your hurt onto someone else, aren't you," he said with a smile. "Don't worry about me and Lily. It may happen, it may not. I simply wish you would talk to Jack about your pregnancy."

She sighed. "I can't see that happening any time soon. He hates me, Frank. Clearly. And like I've said, he has never wanted children or even wanted to talk about it. It will work itself out. Don't worry about me."

He stood when he realized she was moving to stand herself. She gathered up her briefcase. "I think I need to get back to the office."

He took her hand and brought it briefly to his lips. "Take care of yourself, Rachel."

"I will," she said. "Do you want to come by tonight? Have some dinner?"

"I'd like that," he said.

When she left his office, she was disheartened to see Lily in the hallway. She had obviously been coming down to see Donovan, but the moment she saw Rachel, she changed her mind. Lily turned and went in the opposite direction. It made Rachel feel badly, feel as if she was stepping between them. She moved on down the hall, toward the exit when Ashcroft came within her field of vision. He stared at her for a very long time. She wanted to say something, but couldn't. How would he react to news that she was pregnant? Would be blow it off or would he be happy about it? For God's sake, the baby was his. Wouldn't he care? Rachel moved closer toward him. The moment he noticed she was doing this, he turned away from her and walked on. At that point, she decided he did not deserve to know he was going to be a father. If he didn't want her, she didn't want him, and he didn't deserve to know about the baby.

When Donovan knocked, Rachel answered immediately. Whatever she had been cooking smelled divine. He entered the foyer, wondering when she had taken to cooking. When they were together before, Rachel never cooked. It was refreshing seeing her at home, happier than she had been in a long time. Rachel darted toward the kitchen, saying something about taking their dinner out of the oven before it burned. He ventured further in the house and noticed a setting for two in the small dining room just off the kitchen.

"I've just about got this ready," she said from the kitchen. "There's a bottle of wine over on the breakfast nook. Pour yourself a glass."

He did just as she asked. The wine she picked was sweet, leaving a light aftertaste. He carried his glass into the kitchen while she was placing a casserole onto a rack to cool. He sipped his wine thoughtfully. "What are we having?"

She smiled his way, still wearing a pair of oven mitts. "Chicken and veggie casserole. My mother's recipe."

"Cooking and wearing mitts is something I haven't seen you do before," he commented lightly.

Rachel laughed and pushed off the mitts. "No you didn't. Funny how time changes people. As soon as it cools, we can try it out. I have salad in the fridge. Do you mind carrying it to the table?"

He set his wine glass on the kitchen counter. "Not at all."

Donovan opened the fridge, grabbed a gigantic bowl of salad, and carried it to the dining table. He turned when he saw Rachel carrying the casserole in. He started back to get his glass of wine, but she waved at him, indicating she would get it, and he needed to sit down. He did just that as she went to retrieve the bottle of wine and his glass. They each served themselves a helping of salad and Donovan refilled his wine glass. Rachel poured herself a tall glass of apple juice.

She drank some of it and grimaced. "It's not wine, but it'll do."

They ate dinner, conversing lightly, not touching on any particular topic, and especially not mentioning work, Lily, or Jack. It was a pleasant turn, one neither had expected. After demolishing all the salad and half the casserole, Rachel brought in a strawberry shortcake that was perfect. After that, neither wanted to look at another bite of food for the rest of the evening. After eating, they retired to the living room.

"I'm glad you came tonight, Frank," she said.

He glanced at her beside him. She seemed troubled, worried about something. "Are you okay?"

"I just ran into Jack this morning before I went back to my office," she said. "I've decided not to tell him about the baby. I have yet to decide whether I'm keeping it or not, but he's definitely not a factor anymore."

"I don't have a say in this," he began. "But I've always thought you would make an exceptional mother."

"You're so sweet to say that, Frank," she said. "I almost want to cry."

"It's the truth," he insisted. "You would. Before we separated, I thought a thousand times about marrying you, having kids with you. Everything. Hell, I once bought an engagement ring, but never had the chance to propose. It is just that life got in the way. The timing was never right, for either of us. Now, you have a stitch in a personal relationship, but your time with him resulted in a child. I think you would make a wonderful parent. You can give this child anything he or she might want, including unconditional love."

She brought her legs up under her, so she could turn her body toward his. She ran her finger along the side of his face, resting it under his chin. "Just like you with your boys. They have you. Perfect you may not be, but I'll bet they think you are."

He leaned toward her and kissed her lips very gently. Just when she wanted more of him, more of his kiss, he pulled away. "What is this, Rachel? What do you think we're doing?"

The question had been asked before, but she still didn't know the answer. "I don't know," she whispered.

They had had a similar conversation, it was true, but it was something that needed to be asked again. Donovan was the type of man who liked everything solidified in his life. He knew they had tried and failed many times. They were much younger, however, and both had changed. He thought about her baby, the way she didn't want to tell Ashcroft. If it came to it, he would definitely be willing to take care of the child, just as he took care of his boys.

"I know that I want you," she began. "I know that the moment I kissed you again, you were all I could think about. I know with Jack gone, I don't care whether he's back in my life. I know we haven't been successful in the past, but who knows where things go?"

"Everything you've said is what I've thought," he said. "Was I faking it for Lily? Was I trying to find something with her when I wanted you? I don't know how to answer those questions, Rachel. All I know is that if we can try, let's try. If you don't want to get into a serious thing with me, why can't we take it day to day. See where it goes?"

She smiled. "I'm all for it. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work."

He kissed her then, deeply, passionately. Rachel felt crazy, sick, fevered. They made love on the couch. When it was over, she held onto Donovan, molding her body into his. What in the world were they doing? What in the world were they thinking? Whatever answers came to them, they would deal with them later. Right now, they only wanted to deal with a rekindled love, a rekindled romance.

In another part of town, Lily Wells sat directly across from Jack Ashcroft. Since they returned from Favron Resort, neither of them had advanced their relationship one step.

She watched Ashcroft drink coffee that had gone cold hours ago. He was not in a mood to see her or anybody. However, he agreed to meet Lily anyway. What they were doing wasn't fun anymore. They were hurting no one, and that was the purpose of their being together, to hurt those whom hurt them first. It didn't matter what they did. Donovan and Rachel seemed not to notice.

"What do you want, Lily," Ashcroft demanded. He took a swallow from his coffee cup. He grimaced at the cold brew. It was nasty.

"Don't knock on my door anymore," she said. "I'm not interested in sleeping with you again. I shouldn't have slept with you in the first place. Being with you isn't solving any problems."

"I agree," he said. "They're together tonight, you know. I saw Donovan's car at her house."

"What the hell, Jack," she asked incredulously. "Are you stalking them?"

Ashcroft laughed. "Lily, you do have a wicked imagination, don't you? It used to be my house, you know? I drove by there to pick up some more of my stuff when I saw him there. I didn't go in. What they do is no longer my business. If you don't want to fuck me anymore, that's fine. There are other ways of seeking revenge, you know."

"What is it with you, Jack?"

He glared at Lily, completely undressing her with his eyes. "You don't need to speak of things you don't know about, Lily."

She looked at him with an odd expression, trying to read into him. What she heard, she didn't like. He was losing his edge. "I'm leaving," she said.

"Good," he told her. "Be careful of those shadows, Lily."

What did that mean, she wondered. What the hell was wrong with him?