Okay.
Yes. I am back. Not dead, and most certainly not abandoning TGIL now. No sirree-bob. But school and life does come first sometimes. I'm so, so, so sorry. Yes, you've all succeeded in totally guilt-tripping me. Congrats. You have a talent. ;)
I'll keep my note short, since I'm sure you all just want to get to the story, but allow me to add: I've received requests for this chapter to be 1) more 'tough' 2) as 'deep' as the last one, and 3) discuss Jess being Rob's girlfriend more. Well... I didn't get to 3, but it will happen, don't worry. As for 1 and 2, they were kinda hard to balance, but I tried. :)
Anonymous Review Responses (got a lot this time!):
Ipod - Thanks! Yeah, I actually have a plan for the 'one step' thing... maybe. Kinda. Ahem. Thanks again! I'll try. :)
Ipod's second review - Don't worry, it'll happen. Just didn't have a good opportunity to put that in here...
Lollipop AKA Jade - Hey, it's cool - you didn't review, I didn't write, fair deal. :) I love the loves... And as for busy - preaching to the choir here buddy. As for the reviewing thing - that's cool. But thanks for letting me know, so I don't think you were eaten by... yaks or something (first animal that came to mind!) Umm... I love Rob too... Aww... Ditto :)... and good... I tried. Title-wise, I'll pass it on! She was worried it was cheesy eye roll and as for my props, well, I'll add them to my pile of awesome fanfic stuff that make go "squee!" :)
Jade :D (not Lollipop-Jade) - Thanks! Here it is!
Sarah S. - Thank you! Always good to hear! :) Yeah, it keep turning out funnier than I expect, but I figure that's a good thing. As for suspense... Wow, you're the first person to say that! Thanks! And... I hope you're still sane, 'cause here's your update!
Lollipop AKA Jade's second review - HEY I'VE UPDATED NOW, QUIT YELLING! Just kidding. It's cool. :) Yes, you made me guilty, but I was legitimately busy... Even if my excuse really isn't glamorous.
(The normal divider isn't working, so I had to do it this way - sorry!)
The thing is, it didn't last.
My good mood, I mean. It didn't last very long. Maybe it would have, had we been able to get Jess home without any problems, but that's kind of beside the point, because before we even made it back into town, we were stopped by a police barricade, and the police always tend to put me in a bad mood, ever since I was arrested – and, of course, since Jess's psychic thing began to make me a recipient of their questionings. Such as Johnson's. Although, I really didn't have to worry about him anymore, which was kind of a shame, what with his replacement, Krantz, being such a total –
Barricade. Right.
I knew right away that this wasn't related to Jess, though. Because even if some cops had set up a barricade to catch her driving home without a license, on Thanksgiving for chrissakes, – god knows why, but I wouldn't put it past Mr. 'Iron Fist' Krantz – they wouldn't have needed an ambulance. And they wouldn't all be traipsing in and out of the cornfield to our right.
I pulled up behind Jess's mom's car, still looking to the right, and trying to see what was going on in the cornfield. I didn't really want to know, actually, but I was in the grip of that kind of sick curiosity most people get at car wrecks – you know, how they all slow down and stare at all the blood and smashed metal.
I didn't actually see anything through the corn, but I had a pretty good idea what was going on, regardless. I mean, it's happened before, plenty. It's common knowledge that most of the people – especially girls – that go missing in Southern Indiana are eventually found dead in a cornfield somewhere. And for all these cops and EMTs, and forensics guys and who knows what else to be out here on Thanksgiving, they had to have something big going on.
Like, for instance, a body.
Shit. Well, I was definitely coming down from my little 'she loves me!' high now. I sighed, and got off my bike, pulling off my helmet. The cop that had pulled Jess over was talking to her, and it seemed like we weren't going to be leaving any time soon, unfortunately.
Jess was, apparently, giving the officer her explanation for being out here in the middle of the night, as she was just jerking a thumb in my direction and saying, "That's him," when I got into earshot.
I walked over to Jess and the guy, hands out of my pockets even though it was pretty cold out and my hands were cold despite the fact that I was wearing gloves. I'd already had a policeman pull a gun on me, relatively recently, and I'd rather it not happen again just because some rookie mistook my cold hands for me reaching for a weapon, or something.
"What's going on, Officer?" I asked as I got closer, trying to be polite and calm like I wasn't at all worried – but I couldn't help but shoot a nervous glance at Jess. She still didn't have a license, and even if that wasn't their express reason for being here, that didn't mean the guy in front of us wouldn't think to ask for it. We had, after all, been going at least eighty – in a forty-mph zone. Add that to the lack of a license, and Mastriani could get into some serious trouble.
"Oh, we got a tip a little while ago," the officer told me, "Regarding some suspicious activity out here. Came out to have a look around."
I automatically tensed – dealing with Johnson for, what, six, seven months? And with Krantz for these last two, had basically taught me to consider everything a cop said as accusatory, because that's how it always was with both of them. Accusatory, or blank, or, occasionally, sarcastic – but to my surprise, Officer Roadblock's tone was simply matter-of-fact. In fact, even when he continued on, asking Jess, "You seen anything strange? When you were driving out here from town?" his tone was just curious; even though he was basically questioning her, he obviously didn't suspect her of being guilty of lying (which, I have to admit, she usually does) or hiding something, or even breaking any laws.
Well. That was a breath of fresh air.
…Especially since she actually was breaking the law this time around.
"No," Jess told him, shaking her head. "No, I didn't see anything."
I rubbed my cold hands together, trying to warm up my slowly-numbing fingertips. I envied Jess, sitting inside her mom's car, toasty warm except for her window being rolled down. She was currently looking around semi-nervously and rubbing her hands together – but when, after a pause, Roadblock spoke again, her eyes snapped back to him.
"When you drove through, coming from town, what time would that have been?" he asked.
"I think it was after eight… but it was definitely before nine o'clock," Jess said, and Roadblock nodded, 'hmmm'ing and writing that down in a little notepad. I waited, hoping that we might be getting out of there soon, blowing on my hands to try to warm them up more.
Jess was still looking around, although now her eyes had gone from the sky and the cornfields to focus on the men tramping in and out of the cornfield. I watched her absently, more concerned with my cold fingertips – at least until her expression changed, focusing on just what those men were carrying in and out of the cornfield.
"Who is it?" Jess demanded of the surprised Officer Roadblock, her voice high and worried.
Well, shit.
"Nobody you'd know," he told her, not looking up from his scribbles – and suddenly, Jess unbuckled her seatbelt and quickly hopped out of the car, slamming the door behind her. She didn't even bother to turn it off.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Roadblock looked up, shooting me a worried glance, but I was too busy focusing on Jess.
"Mastriani," I said carefully, feeling a bit like I was trying to talk down someone ready to jump off a twenty-story balcony. "What are you doing?"
Of course, it didn't work. It never does, when Jess gets that look in her eyes. I had known that of course, but I'd figured it was worth a try.
She ignored me, though, just brushing past me and Roadblock to head towards the flurry of action, where the floodlight was.
Roadblock suddenly got very flustered. Obviously, this had never happened to him before. I, on the other hand, just sighed. "Wait a minute," Roadblock called after Jess, stuffing his notebook and pen back into his pocket. "Miss? Um, you can't go over there."
I sighed again, told him, "Sorry about this," and followed Jess.
I caught up with her, just as a big burly police officer, who had intercepted her, was saying, "Nothing to see at all. You go on home like a good girl." He noticed me, and smiled, "Son? This your little girlfriend? You be a good boy, now, and take her on home."
I didn't particularly want to 'be a good boy', and I doubted Jess liked being called my 'little girlfriend' either, but the officer looked nice enough and besides, he had the same goal as me; namely, get Jess out of there before either they asked to see her license and Krantz found out, or got involved in yet another police investigation and Krantz found out and subjected her to long and grueling questioning… again.
Well, okay, maybe he just wanted her out of there, but whatever.
"Yes sir," I told him, grabbing onto Jess. "I'll do that, sir." I leaned in close to add, "Are you nuts, Mastriani? Let's go, before they ask to see you license."
However, despite this excellent point, Jess didn't move, and her I-must-go-butt-into-things-that-are-none-of-my-business-and-will-probably-get-me-in-a-lot-of-trouble face only intensified.
I swear, if I didn't almost-love her…
Hm. Love. She loves me.
How is it that me almost loving Jess is enough to get me going along on all of her crazy schemes, risking my and her life, frequently riding my Indian through not-the-best terrain, and in general breaking or at least not cooperating with the express wishes of the law – whereas her, actually being fully in love with me (and willing to admit it), isn't enough for her to tell her parents that I even exist, let alone listen to me about anything relating to the law or her psychic thing?
I was pondering this, and had yet to come up with a better answer than, She's a girl, when Jess pulled free from my arm and continued walking into the cornfield.
I looked at her, briefly considering just hoisting her upside down and walking off with her – previous attempts told me she couldn't get away – but last time I'd done that had also been the first time a gun was aimed at my head. True, I was pretty sure that these guys had the same goal as me, at least when it came to getting Jess out of there, but they might not approve of the method, and besides, last time I'd thought that Johnson had been of a similar mind as me, and look where that got me.
Not to mention the fact that Jess really doesn't like being picked up upside-down and carted around.
So I just sighed deeply – again – and followed her around various guys in suits and into the corn.
We were just approaching what I guessed was probably the body, seeing as that was where everybody was standing, when Jess stopped, so suddenly that I bumped into her, and bounced back with an oof loud enough to make several people glance our way, looking confused and saying things along the lines of, "What the…" "How the hell – " and so on.
"Miss," one of them said to Jess, standing up and walking towards us. Well, at least he recognized that this was all Jess's fault. "I'm sorry, miss, but you need to stand back. Marty? Marty, what are you thinking, letting people through here?"
One of the guys we had barreled past on our way in rushed into the little clearing, panting heavily. I wondered briefly what had happened to Roadblock and Mr. 'little girlfriend' and 'good boy'. Did they both just figure someone else would take care of the problem (AKA Jess)? "Sorry, Earl. I didn't see her, she came by so fast. Come on, miss. Let's go – "
Jess cut him off (she had a habit of doing that when she was like this), pointing down at the body on the ground. "I know him."
Up until that point, I had managed, despite knowing that it was there, to completely ignore the dead body right under our noses, but at that, I couldn't resist leaning over Jess's shoulder and looking – and immediately regretting it. "Jesus," I whispered softly.
God, there was blood – everywhere. And that arm should not be in that position... Feeling rapidly more sick the longer I looked, I averted my eyes to focus on Earl's stunned face, forcing myself to pay attention to what was going on; it was highly preferable to vomiting all over the crime scene, anyway.
Yeah, I really don't do well with blood. Never have.
"That's my neighbor," Jess said, "Nate Thompkins." Oddly enough, my first thought on hearing this was, Nate? Hey, that's the stupid code-name she gave me over the summer. Yeah, I know. Very considerate of me, right? Well, at least I didn't say it out loud.
Earl's eyes widened visibly, and he and Marty exchanged a significant look.
"He went to get whipped cream," Jess continued, her voice audibly shaking now, "A couple of hours ago."
Oh, god. My eyes moved from Earl – skipping quickly over Nate – to look at Jess worriedly, and I rested a hand on her shoulder. I mean, Jesus. Why does this always happen to her?
A few seconds later, the county sheriff – identifiable by his red plaid jacket; he usually wore at least one plaid item of clothing for some reason – came rushing up to us, took one look at Jess, and said, "You're the Mastriani girl."
Jess nodded, and he added, "I thought you didn't have that psychic thing anymore."
…And there it was. The inevitable 'hey, you're Lightning Girl!' moment. It was really getting old by now, especially with how people also tended to get very angry soon after that moment, and blame Jess for various things, or pressure her, or – my favorite – question her for two hours straight and make me wait outside with her parents for half that time, even though she wasn't even a suspect.
Okay, so maybe I resent it. Just a little bit.
"I don't," Jess said, wiping a tear from her eyes, and my hand on her shoulder tightened a little, completely by instinct.
I just… I didn't like seeing her crying, and I wanted to fix it, but I couldn't fix it, because Nate was already dead – hell, I couldn't even look at him without feeling like I was about to vomit. And, of course, I was getting mad at the sheriff for making her cry, but he was really just doing his job, and…
Damn it. Why couldn't things, just once, go smoothly? I mean, couldn't we have at least found out about Nate tomorrow? I kind of wanted to bask in the whole she's-in-love-with-me thing. That is sort of a big deal. But no, Jess's neighbor just had to get killed and dumped in a cornfield, and the police had to get a tip, and we had to meet them, and now Jess was crying and I was getting seriously pissed; but I didn't even have a decent villain – other than the person/people who had killed Nate, but of course I didn't know who they were, and I needed a solid, visible, identifiable presence. I kind of missed Johnson – yet to be pissed at. And that was kind of vital.
Because without said villain, I was just stuck standing here, with one comforting hand on Jess's shoulder, and the other balling into a fist at my side, and my eyes avoiding the ground to stare at the corn and police officers and the back of Jess's head, and my stomach churning with nausea and worry and anger all at once and arrgh.
"Then how'd you he was here?" The sheriff offered, nodding down. My eyes almost followed the movement, but I stopped myself.
"I didn't," Jess said, still shakily, but a little bit better than a moment ago. Then she continued, "He's my neighbor, and his dad came by earlier tonight to look for him, and told us he never came back from going to get whipped cream. And th-then," she almost stuttered. Jess doesn't stutter. This made me… it made me kind of gulp nervously and glare even more at the corn at the same time. I didn't like it. "I went over to Rob's for dinner. I was just going home."
"I see," the sheriff nodded, "Well, that's good to know. He wasn't carrying any ID, least that we could find. So now we have an idea who he is. Thank you. You go on home now, and we'll take it from here."
Jess turned her head and looked almost longingly in the direction of her car as the sheriff walked away, but she didn't move towards it. I hadn't really expected her to.
Instead, she turned to Marty. "How did he die?"
Marty looked for help, but the sheriff was talking to someone else. "Look, miss," he said, "You better – "
"Was it from those marks?" Jess interrupted.
Marks? What marks? All I'd seen was blood, and that mangled arm, before I'd looked away. He – marks?
Partially because I really didn't want to contemplate the word marks any longer, but also because I was seeing something that officially reversed the night from the high point it had reached during Jess's barn confession, I grabbed her hand and tugged. "Jess. Come on. Let's go. These guys have work to do."
"What were those marks, anyway?" Jess asked a very uncomfortable-looking Marty. "I couldn't tell."
"Really, miss," Mark sighed. "You'd better go."
Jess, of course, ignored him – and me – just standing there with a distant, unhappy, look on her face.
Oh god. I really was seeing it. It wasn't a vision; he was really there.
Shit.
"Mastriani," I said, utter desperation creeping into my voice as Marty scurried away and he came closer. "Let's go."
Finally – finally! – Jess turned around, but by then it was too late, and our doom was bearing down on us in his typical 'look, I'm a super-cool FBI Agent!' long black coat and badge, looming in a long, thin, stick-like way over our heads – I say our because yes, Krantz is several inches taller than even me. Like, six.
You might say I'm being melodramatic. Well, stop saying it. Compared to Krantz, Johnson was my best friend, and that's saying something. We really hadn't hit it off, what with his completely ignoring me and trying to take Jess away (again) during our first meeting – and things had only gone downhill from there.
Yeah, Krantz was just the icing on the cake as he loomed and smiled in what I know he thought was a reassuring, endearing way, but that just managed to be very disturbing and make me tighten my hand around Jess's.
"Hello, Jessica," he half-smarmed, half-condescended, "Remember me?"
Don't despair, Rob, Jess is in love with you. That's good, right?
…Yeah. Yeah, she loved me. And Krantz was here. And her neighbor was dead. And…
Well.
Yippee.
