Monday, 1:15 P.M.
After a quick stop at Jane's apartment to change, they arrived at the crime scene, a warehouse near Boston's South End. As the amount of patrol officers began to dwindle in number, the detectives on call could be seen searching for evidence while directing the crime scene technicians toward scraps of anything that seemed out of the ordinary. The hustle and bustle of the crime scene flooded Jane's veins, excitement obvious before she even removed herself from the seatbelt that Maura insisted on her wearing, no matter how short the trip was. Confidence took the place of uncertainty in Jane's mind and she welcomed it as a needed distraction. Her police mask firmly in place, she prepared herself mentally for another day of keeping the streets safe from crime.
Before Jane could exit the car, however, Maura grabbed her arm as she turned off the ignition of her ruby-red Aston Martin DB9. "I feel like I should say something to you."
She returned Maura's statement with a quizzical look, struggling to understand her friend's statement. "Can't it wait?"
"No," the blonde's voice trembled with restrained emotion. "It can't wait. I think I want you to know that I…well…I want you to be careful."
"I'm always careful," Jane stated non-committedly, her eyes continuously roaming the crime scene from inside the leather interior of the Aston.
"No, you don't understand. It's just so hard for me to say this…to get my mind in order to properly convey my ideas, but I really need you to understand…how much I care for you and your safety."
Maura's rambling was interrupted by a loud rapping from outside as Sergeant Korsak knocked on the glass, getting the two women's attention. Detective Frost stood near the Aston, trying to appear busy while ogling the blonde's expensive car like a piece of meat. The moment broken, the blonde reluctantly let go of the last connection she had with Jane before resuming their work roles as separate entities, their relationship forgotten. Maura had hardly locked the door of the car when she noticed that Jane was already gone, without as much as a glance or farewell. Talking to Jane about her feelings was next to impossible especially when she got into her work. Maura's emotional desires and needs didn't seem to affect Jane and that hurt her more than she could ever know. She knew that the right thing for their relationship would be to talk like civilized adults, but knowing what the right thing was and doing it were two drastically different concepts. Being with Jane is just like how it is with my mother. I can't bear to inconvenience her by asking for more. Fighting was the only way for them to open up to each other and it clearly wasn't working. If anything, it was making the two women even more miserable, and it killed Maura to see her girlfriend miserable. But these were thoughts for another time.
Her tools in hand, the medical examiner readied herself for another victim, her mind still travelling back to Jane. Providing victims with a voice to speak was exhausting work but it wasn't nearly as exhausting as dealing with Jane's…Janeisms on a daily basis. Being with the serious detective gave her a mental workout on the same level as Organic Chemistry back in college except for the lack of accolades received after finally figuring out a particular concept. Well, I wouldn't say there is a lack of accolades…Jane's surprisingly romantic when she's not at work or when it's just the two of us. Just last night, I could barely believe that she was so tender and loving. The way she held me tight against her chest, unwrapped me, released me, wiped away my tears…it was perfection on the same level as a substance high.
And there inherently was the problem that had no proper solution. Maura found herself at times so starved for the affection that Jane provided that she was willing to accept the pain of fighting with her best friend in the hope that something would change. Giving up on Jane was not an option.
"Maura, you okay?" Frost asked in a near whisper, stopping her before she reached the crime scene tape blocking the entrance to the warehouse. "It's pretty nasty in there. Just picturing that woman's body…makes me sick. If you aren't up to it, we can always get another M.E. to release."
Maura's eyes appraised the young African-American detective's anxious body with a small smile. "I thought we worked on that, Detective? You're still having trouble dealing with crime scenes?"
"No, well…no," Frost sighed before attempting to resume. "She's been mutilated in the worst kind of way. Her heart is clearly been taken out her chest, not to mention the creepy message written on the wall in, presumably, blood next to the body. The whole thing just screams serial to me. Korsak is still trying to write it off as just a sadistic one-off."
"I'll be fine, Frost. I've seen my share of wrongness applied to the human body in my years as a medical examiner," Maura replied with a friendly smile, walking toward the back of the warehouse where the body was found. Each step she took into the dark cavern lit only by small random slats of sunlight made the blonde increasingly nervous. The lights seemed to beckon her toward the body as the space within the warehouse seemed to progressively shrink inward upon itself like a maze. Maura told herself that it was nothing more than an illusion as a direct result of the perception of light in the space, but logic did little to assuage the anxiety running through her. Something just doesn't feel right about this. I've been to my fair share of crime scenes featuring anything from ritual killings to suicide but this easily takes the…what does Jane say, 'the crown?' Is that it? Something with a "c"…
The medical examiner's heels struck the cement, dust clogging the heavy air. Time seemed to stand still as she trudged endlessly through the never-ending space. A familiar voice called out to her and she gratefully walked toward it.
"Korsak," Maura's eyes had barely acclimated to the dark before they searched for Jane's familiar brown curls. "Thank god, I kept getting-"
Jane interrupted from her position at the foot of the naked body posed on the floor. "Disoriented? Same here. If it wasn't for Korsak playing traffic cop and giving me a shout, I would have been lost. What's with this place anyway? It's like some kind of a chapel to the patron saint of asylums."
"Actually, there is no patron saint in the Catholic faith that pertains to asylums, Jane. St. Dymphna is the closest possible interpretation. She is attributed to mental illnesses and neurological disorders. According to oral traditions, Dymphna was a young woman who was beheaded by her father because she refused to replace her mother in his bed." Maura recited, her eyes analyzing each element of the crime scene, quickly and efficiently. Korsak appeared enthralled with Maura's unusual analysis while Jane comically groaned, turning her eyes to look over at the blonde.
"And the relevance of that to this crime scene is?" Jane asked, ignoring Maura's blush.
"Whoever chose this space is highly intelligent, Jane. He or she clearly took the time to plan every aspect of this murder and probably feels little remorse for his actions," the medical examiner's eyes travelled toward the body posed on the floor and released a sigh of pity for the sight in front of her. Frost was not exaggerating. The young woman's pale body was scarred with several open wounds. In particular, her heart had been crudely but efficiently removed, leaving nothing more than a hole of empty decaying flesh. Brown trails of blood that had ceased to flow at least several hours ago covered the skin, marring her beauty with gaping wounds that had little chance to heal. Her lean musculature pointed toward an involvement in some kind of intense athletic activity for some time; however, what grabbed Maura's attention the strongest was her facial features. Shocking red hair with platinum blonde roots covered the youthful woman's unmarked face; her eyes concealed behind a velvet blindfold. Her hair has been dyed, it appears to be a rush job. Why cover her eyes though? Did she resist her attacker? Maura quickly appraised the victim's hands for any sign of struggle and saw the contusions around her wrists, knees, and ankles. So she was bound… Maura answered the questions that logically asserted themselves in her head, causing even more questions to assert themselves. There's only so much I can do without the tools of my lab.
"You've got something I can run with?" Jane asked simply. Upon seeing the medical examiner's troubled features, her hands trembled with the urge to provide comfort; reluctantly, Jane willed the mask back into place, focusing on the grisly scene in front of her.
"Of course," she said, running her hand through her hair. "This is all based off of preliminary diagnosis, but I can definitively say that your Jane Doe was bound to restrict her movement. In conjunction with the contusions on her wrists and lower extremities, there is some slight petechial hemorrhaging on her face. Until I get her in the lab I can't give you a definitive answer as to what caused it. If you look at her hair, you'll notice it has been dyed with little attention to detail, given the blonde roots."
"Anything else?" Jane asked with little patience.
Maura moved toward the feet of Jane Doe and noticed the slight deformity of the feet along with the calluses near the toes. "She practiced en pointe work."
"For how long?"
"Assumptions are hardly productive to proper scientific inquiry, Jane." Maura said just as Jane's hand lifted toward her arm, barely touching the blonde. "But…I guess my own personal experience with en pointe work can suffice as sufficient evidence. I'd say about 10 to 12 years given the degree of the deformity of her feet. Because of the lack of an extreme arch in her foot, her feet were given time to ossify properly before intensive work was started but just barely. With that timeline, she'd be about…21 or 22 give or take a year with a margin of error."
Jane stood up from the body and paced a few steps before turning to look back at Maura. "So…we have a ballerina in her prime who was bound and dyed her hair, presumably unwillingly. That's not a lot, Maura."
"I'm sorry," she whispered just loud enough for Jane to hear. "It's the best that I can do until I get her in autopsy."
"I know, I know." The frustrated brunette kicked the scuffed dust floor as she pointed toward the wall closest to the victim while looking Korsak over. "Does that clear whatever that is up for you, Korsak? 'Cause it didn't do anything for me."
Maura looked up and followed Jane's finger toward a message written in blood on the one wall not covered in an illusion. Most of the crime scene techs were busy trying to photograph and process the message for future reference. Motioning to one of her assistants to allow the coroner to take the body back to her lab, she stood up to see the message in a better perspective.
The height of the letters along with the neatness of the manuscript suggested a level of planning that was already plainly obvious from the illusions covering the crime scene. The words were haunting as they seemed to pulse in attention with the blood red contrasting against the relative darkness of the warehouse. The Beauty slumbers peacefully awaiting the kiss that will set her free amongst the Sin.
Maura's mind struggled to interpret the unusual statement that her eyes were processing in the dim light. "This isn't good, is it?"
"No, it isn't," Korsak frowned, joining Maura as she sat in awe of the message before her.
"Whoever this guy," Jane said before Maura's disapproving look stopped her, "sorry, person is he knows we're stuck until he decides to throw us another victim. We've got nothing but the damn scraps he's choosing to leave us. Now all we can do it wait. Wait until someone else dies before we can get something to run with."
Turning on her heels, Jane left the crime scene while Maura and Korsak looked at each other with understanding looks. When Jane's on a case, the whole world ceases to function. Nothing else matters except finding a lead and pursuing it…I hope she doesn't run herself ragged. I don't think I can handle watching her unravel again.