**DISCLAIMER – I do not own the characters, they belong to TNT and associated bodies. **
(However I have a wonderful imagination and that belongs all to me, just sometimes Jane and Maura wind up naked in it, and there's not a thing I can do to stop it. Gutted.)
('The Wrong Girl belongs to Missy Higgins.)
* Thank-you to all that have reviewed, genuinely appreciate each and every one of them. When I figure out how to get back to you, I will!*
How to solve a problem like a wedding ring.
Chapter 3 – The Wrong Girl.
Maura Isles wasn't your typical broken-hearted woman. There would be no screaming, no tearing of photos, no cursing the name of a lost love. Instead Maura dealt with the events of the day in her own way, with calm acceptance.
Maura returned home that afternoon slowly. Every quiet little move was one not of anger or in reaction to the unwelcome surprise, but purely of a fragile grief. Everything about Maura was fragile. She parked up by her house, and with slow gentle movements twisted her keys into the lock of her door.
Every movement brought a memory back; of times when she would play-fight Jane to get to the door, how the detective would always win but graciously allow the house's owner to enter first. As she laid her keys on the side-table she could almost see Jane strut into the kitchen screaming hello to the 'turtle', laying her coat over her couch she could smell the lavender of Jane's hair; reaching into the fridge for Bass' strawberries she touched the shelf where a bottle of beer had sat for four long, lonely years.
Maura's night passed with small touches of objects she hadn't noticed in so long. Small and insignificant little things that suddenly held so many memories, now that she allowed herself to remember. As she fell asleep to the memories, she swore she could feel the detective's lips press to her forehead before hearing the small click of the door close.