A/N: Happy inappropriate Wednesday! Though I find it anything but inappropriate that R&I is on TV tonight (old episode, but still).. How much longer until January, goshdarnit?! (P.S.: Before you all head over to Google Maps - the address in this chapter isn't real.. didn't want to get anybody in trouble. ;-))
About five miles away from the detective, Maura sat crouched in the dusky corner of the man's living room with her eyes closed and her head resting against the wall behind her. The powerful pull of another syncopal attack was tugging at her, trying to lure her back into the dark, and sucking the last ounces of strength out of her body. And while she could barely feel her toes and fingertips any longer, her heart was still thumping like mad as if trying to compete with the rhythmic pounding in her head.
Just when the medical examiner threatened to slip away again, a sudden thud pulled her mind back into the decaying living room of the man's house. She squinted through heavy lids and tried to detect the man. For a few seconds, her tired eyes only caught blurry lines and shadows, but then she spotted her kidnapper at the other end of the room next to a chair at the wall. She wondered what he was doing and whether the loud noise had been him jumping down from that chair. And if yes, what had made him climb the chair in the first place? There seemed to be a small opening in the wall above the man's head, but given the distance between the two corners of the room and her currently rather blurry vision, Maura was unable to recognize any details. Instead, she tried to determine how long she had been dozing and how much blood she had already lost, but with all the shutters down, it was impossible to say what time of day it was or how much of her warm blood had already seeped onto the floor.
Oh no, what if he has already taken his next pictures while I was out? she suddenly wondered and panic infested every cell of her body. She needed to be awake for those photos or her previous efforts would have been in vain.
Before her worries could consume her spirits, the man came back to his desk and rummaged through his belongings lying scattered around in the flickering candle light. When Maura heard the familiar beeping and rattling of his camera, a tiny glimmer of hope sparked in her mind. Maybe it wasn't too late after all.
And indeed, when the man had set up his gear, he approached her dark corner and knelt down to take his next series of pictures, his eyes momentarily focused on the camera's display. As inconspicuously as possible, Maura brought her fingers into position and silently prayed that he would neither notice what she was doing nor discard any of his pictures. If part of her message got lost, Jane wouldn't be able to decipher it at all. At the thought of the detective, a wave of sadness washed over Maura's heart and she wondered what her friend might be doing right now. She knew Jane wouldn't leave any stone unturned, but given the number of houses within the radius they had identified the night before, her chances of finding the killer's hiding spot in time and without any additional clues were minimal at best. Habitually, the medical examiner tried to calculate the exact probability using the number of inhabitants and their demographic composition, but the throbbing in her head made any elaborate mental activity impossible. Besides, a much more important task required her full attention.
Thus, as soon as the man in front of her raised his camera to take another picture, Maura focused her remaining willpower and delivered the next part of her message. When the sudden bright light of the camera's flash sent another sharp pain through her head and she almost forgot the last part of her message, it took the blonde whatever strength was left in her bleeding body to quickly bring her fingers into the correct position before the man released the shutter again. Please, don't take another picture now! Just these two…, she silently begged and cried in relief when the man got up and scuffled back to his desk without taking any more photos.
Exhausted by the stress imposed on her mind and body, Maura drifted back into a semi-conscious state until she suddenly felt the man hover directly in front of her. She opened her eyes again and found him studying her bruised face in curiosity.
"So, you only got one kidney, huh?" he asked sardonically and reached for her bleeding abdomen. "Which one is missing?" When the blonde would not or could not answer, he sneered and returned to his computer. "Your detective friend wants to trade herself in for you. Looks like she still doesn't understand the rules."
"She'll find you," Maura whispered weakly before her eyes fell shut and darkness clouded her mind. Even if she won't find me in time.
Two seemingly eternal hours had passed when the e-mail alert of Jane's tablet computer on her passenger seat rang out again. After she had sent her message to the killer, begged him to take her instead of Maura, and informed him of her friend's kidney condition that might cut short the time to save her, Jane had spent the early afternoon visiting all of their crime scenes, talking to neighbors again, and attempting to further narrow down the radius around the killer's hiding spot by testing herself how long it would take to get from A to B to C and back. But the only tangible result had been more frustration and anxiety. Expecting the worst now, she stopped her sedan at the curb, reached for her tablet, and opened her e-mail client. At the sight of the two new photos of Maura curled up in that dusky corner, her body pale and in pain, Jane choked hard and barely managed to keep her frenzied thoughts under control. She's still alive. It's not too late. There's still time. Just hang on, Maura. Hang on!
As the detective scrolled down and read the man's response to her plea, she instantly found her worries confirmed that her bargaining attempts would be in vain. She could almost hear the killer's snort of derision together with the bold-faced TICK-TOCK below the photos. At the bottom of his message, he had added just one more line: I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FRIEND'S CONDITION — FIND HER AND SAVE HER! THAT'S THE ONLY WAY TO FIX YOUR MISTAKE!
For a moment, Jane's heart and mind were drowned under a wave of guilt triggered by the killer's harsh words. If Maura dies, it'll be my fault. I should've seen this coming. Why didn't I just take a week off when I had the chance? Why did I have to give him my name? It's all my fault. I made a mistake and— Suddenly, an idea thrust itself forward through all the worries jamming Jane's head, and the detective hastily grabbed her cell phone. She speed-dialed Frost's number and barely gave him enough time to answer the call.
"Frost, check our databases to see if there have been any female stabbing victims in the last weeks. I got another e-mail, and he's talking about 'fixing our mistake.' I think someone close to him got stabbed and he blames us for her death. And now, he wants us to fix it." With adrenaline and a tickling sensation of hope rushing through her veins, Jane started her car and agitatedly maneuvered it through the dense afternoon traffic. "Look up hospital records or litigation files — whatever you can find," she advised her partner on the other end of the line. "I'll be right there."
Just don't give up, Maura! We'll find you.
Twenty minutes later, Jane parked her sedan in front of BPD Headquarters, jumped out of the car, and dashed upstairs. Without any time for politeness, she shouldered her way through a bunch of cops chatting in the hallway and breathlessly arrived at the BRIC, where Frost and Korsak were still huddled over their computers and desperately trying to track down the killer. When Jane barged into the intelligence center and almost tripped over a chair in her hurry, her two colleagues turned around and their gloomy faces instantly gave away the state of their investigation.
"We've spotted Dr. Isles' car at another intersection in Jamaica Plain," Korsak greeted her. "But it's right in the middle between our three crime scenes, and we don't know if they went left or right from there. All we know is they went south. I'm having some officers go through the surveillance material from down there, but it doesn't look promising. I'm sorry, Jane."
Clinging to the faint feeling of hope that had sparked up inside of her just minutes ago, Jane bit her lip and looked at Frost in expectation.
"I've checked for any felonies involving stabbing victims in the last six months," her partner explained. "Tried to narrow it down to neighborhoods in the south and west of Boston, but no useful matches so far."
"Well, then just extend your search," Jane agitatedly demanded as she felt her last glimmers of hope fade away again.
"We're already going through all kinds of case files… burglaries, domestic violence, accidents…," Frost said. "We can look into other parts of the city and also check older records, but it takes time…"
"We don't have time!" Jane exclaimed and nervously rubbed her scarred hands. "I'm not a doctor, but I don't think it's helping that Maura only has one kidney left."
"Hey, Rizzoli," Lieutenant Cavanaugh suddenly called out for her from the doors to the BRIC. "Into my office!"
"Sir, we're in the middle of—" the brunette tried to protest.
"Now!" her boss demanded.
Jane barely stopped herself from cursing out loud and followed the lieutenant into his office next door, wondering how long he had been watching them. "If this is about my mother, we—"
"Sit down," Cavanaugh ordered and ignored her impatient glare as she took a seat. He slid onto a chair next to Jane and calmly looked at the detective. "I want you to think, Rizzoli. Find out where your guy is hiding with Dr. Isles and—"
"But that's what we've been trying to do before you dragged me in here!" Jane complained.
"No, I've been watching you. You haven't been thinking clearly," the lieutenant pointed out. "I know she's your friend and it's hard, but I want you to stay calm and focused! Can you do that?"
The detective wearily shrugged. "We're running out of time…"
"Yes, and that's exactly why I need you at your best, Rizzoli! Now, you go back in there and you'll find that jerk, alright?!"
Jane nodded and hesitatingly got up.
"Keep me informed," her boss said and then signaled her to leave.
On her way out of his office, Jane took a deep breath and tried to hold on to Cavanaugh's words. Just stay calm. Focus. Think. When a certain clarity put her mind at ease, she returned to the BRIC, where she found Korsak and Frost studying a map of Boston next to the last e-mails from the killer on one of the flat screens on the wall. For a split second, Jane felt bile rise up in her throat at the sight of the enlarged photos of Maura in turmoil, but suddenly, the arrangement of all these pictures on one large screen in front of her revealed what had been hidden right under her nose all along. Jane almost smiled as she remembered Maura's explanation that a change in perspective would often reveal new information. The medical examiner had been right after all.
"Look at her hands!" she exclaimed as she dashed to the front of the room. "She's signaling numbers," Jane explained and pointed at Maura's fingers.
Frost and Korsak squinted at the screen, and suddenly their eyes widened as realization hit them. The young detective hurried to his desk and quickly brought all pictures into their order of arrival, whereas the older sergeant grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began to scribble. "Zero-two-one-three-two… uh, what's the next one?" Korsak asked and pointed at Maura's flat hand in the third photo.
"Maybe a break," Jane suggested and glanced over her former partner's shoulder.
"Okay, and the rest is three-four-three," he finished and held up the piece of paper for everyone to see.
"That's a zip code!" Jane burst out. "02132 — that's uh…"
"West Roxbury," Frost announced from behind his computer.
"And 343 could be a street number…," Korsak mused.
"Yeah," Jane nodded. "Frost, can you—"
"Check the map for possible locations? Already on it!" her partner declared and hammered away on his keyboard.
A detailed street map of Boston popped up on the main screen, and with a few mouse clicks, Frost zoomed in on West Roxbury. He continued to type and browse through various street listings.
"Okay, seems like there are six streets in that area with numbers in the 300s," Frost read from his screen. "There's Amherst Avenue, Dalton Road, Dorchester Street, Langley Street, Stratford Street, and Winchester Avenue."
Jane impatiently tapped her foot. "What do we know about these addresses? Who's registered there? Come on, give me something!"
"Let's see, the first one is a bakery," her partner read from his screen, then focused on the data and mumbled to himself. Suddenly, he straightened up, seemingly psyched about his findings. "Wait… This one on Stratford Street… It's owned by a John Christle, who inherited it from his wife, Darlene Christle." A few more keystrokes later, a new window popped up on the screen showing the photo of a blonde woman in her thirties. With eyes wide open, Frost turned towards Jane and Korsak. "Ten months ago, she got stabbed and bled to death in a burglary gone wrong."
There was no need for further words. The three of them instantly knew that they had found the right address.
And as they stormed out of the BRIC, Jane wished with all her heart that it wasn't too late. Please, hold on, Maura. Just a little longer!
As the sun was beginning to set outside, the flickering candle on the desk in the man's living room was slowly but surely dying — and so was Maura in the dark corner just a few feet away. Her breathing had become flat and slow, and every additional drop of blood leaving her body stole another glimmer of hope from her heart. At least, the numbness spreading through her limbs had dulled the pain from her wounds, and a feeling of ease and acceptance had taken its place.
And as she lay on the floor with her hands soaked in her own blood, her thoughts slowly drifted off to Jane, Frost, and Korsak. She didn't blame them for not finding her in time. She knew they had tried everything — Jane had even offered to take Maura's place to save her. But apparently, something had gone wrong. Maybe he switched or deleted some of the photos after all. Or maybe I sent the wrong numbers. West Roxbury… that's 02132… or maybe it is 02321…?
The thought of not being rescued in time and of dying alone in the killer's lair inevitably led the medical examiner's mind back to the morgue at BPD, and she wondered who would do her autopsy. Oh, please, not that knucklehead Doctor Pike… or Popov, the booze bag! And would Jane attend her autopsy? Would she even go down to the morgue ever again? What if she can't find closure and becomes obsessed with my death… as obsessed as this man? The notion of the strong detective losing her faith seemed even scarier than her own death. I can't do this to her. I have to help her stop this man. Somehow…
Using the last of her strength, Maura raised her head and tried to locate the man. He wasn't at his desk, and the room seemed even darker than before. Moments later, she realized why when she spotted him at the cupboard trying to light a new candle.
"You won't bring her back…," Maura whispered in a raspy voice.
The man slowly turned around and squinted at the blonde in the corner.
"She's gone… and… you won't change that," she declared. "No matter what you do…"
"Shut up!" the man growled and angrily struck another match to light the candle.
"You can't save her…," Maura insisted.
Clutching the burning candle until his knuckles turned white, the man took three steps towards his captive and crouched down in front of her. "I said shut up!"
Maura knew this was her one and only chance to get from the killer what they hadn't been able to get before. Gathering every ounce of willpower still left in her body, she launched her arms forward and jabbed her fingernails into the hairy skin of the man's face to secure a sample of his DNA. Please, please, let them find it during my autopsy!
Surprised by her unexpected attack, the man moaned in pain and dropped his candle. The flame instantly set fire to the small streams of acid cleaner that had been gathering on the floor since his repeated scrubbing of the wooden planks. In a chain reaction, a maze of tiny fiery lines on the floor forced its way towards the wooden table, and the cupboard, and the walls.
"No, no, no, no, no!" the man yelled in agitation and furiously hurled Maura to the ground. "This is not how it's supposed to happen!"
Terrified, his eyes darted from the blonde's motionless body to every other corner of the room in an attempt to find something that could stop the fire. But given the sparse furnishing, there were neither blankets nor watering cans nor any other items he could have used.
"No, no, not like this!" he cried out loud but then suddenly froze at a faint familiar sound of sirens from outside. "You hear that?" he wondered, though it wasn't quite clear whom he was talking to. "They're coming!"
His faced seized with manic excitement, the man waited a few more seconds to let the sirens grow louder until he was convinced that they were really approaching his house. "They're coming," he sighed again, then grabbed his laptop and cast one last glance at the woman on the wooden floor while the fiery lines kept dancing around her body. "I knew it would work," he announced before rushing to the back door and disappearing in the dusk outside.
And as Maura lay prone on the floor, she could have sworn that somewhere out there, seemingly far away, the sounds of police sirens were filling the air. Maybe they've found him after all, she wondered and let out one last breath of relief before finally giving in to the dark.
I'm just so tired. I'm sorry, Jane. I'm really sorry.
