Ducking under crime scene tape, Jane and Maura walked back into Professor Kaplowitz's office. Most of his belongings had been boxed and moved, and the room seemed rather hollow without the towering piles of books he had arranged on the shelves pressed against each wall.
"I'm so glad I didn't become an academic. My father's office looked just like this. I couldn't cope."
Jane smiled affectionately as Maura scrunched her nose at the state of the room they were in. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is it too Elise De Wolfe for your liking?"
Maura looked at Jane with confusion. "How do you even know who that is?"
"Maur, we have watched a lot of documentaries together. I listen… sometimes."
"Well. If you had been paying attention, you would know that De Wolfe's signature style was anti-Victorian. Much lighter and less stuffy than… this" Maura gestured to the room. "De Wolfe would never have purchased a crimson paisley carpet. I understand the need to be in-keeping with the aesthetic and era of the exterior, but I would never be able to peer-review in an office like this. It would be so distracting!"
"Speaking of distracting…" Jane turned on her heel as she spoke, "we have a job to do."
Pulling protective blue gloves onto their hands, Jane and Maura stood for a moment in the centre of the room.
"What are we looking for?" Maura asked after a moment's silence.
"Anything that could connect Kaplowitz to the fake professor. Greenly is interviewing everyone else who works here, and the team are going through each office one by one. Everyone's computer is being searched, too."
"Do you think one of the other professors could be involved?"
Jane shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I mean, I'm trusting the police to add anyone with a connection to their list of suspects. All we know for certain is that whoever used the name Rusieuc in their communications is covering for something dodgy."
"Dodgy?" Maura laughed. "You've been in England too long."
/
Finding nothing of importance in the office, Jane and Maura turned their attention to the many files that Harriet had removed from Rachel's home. The police had, under the direction of the task force, taken copies of the most important documents. The rest were still piled high in Harriet's house.
The Victorian terrace was filled with a sense of silent anticipation. A vintage clock ticked on the kitchen wall, the only thing making a sound in the stillness. Maura and Jane set up base in the living room, surrounded by boxes of unorganised papers, textbooks and scribbled notes. From the comfort of Harriet's mismatched, fabric-covered armchairs, the two women began to search for whatever it was they were missing.
"It feels weird to be in someone's house like this when they're not here", Jane commented as she scanned yet another boring history thesis, "I feel like I did when I was a kid and I used to sneak down to the kitchen at night when everyone was in bed."
"Did you ever feel like that in my house?" Maura asked, half-reading the paper in her lap. Jane shook her head and turned to look at her friend.
"Of course not. Your house is… home. I'm more comfortable there than in my own place." Jane blushed slightly at her admission, but didn't stop. "Every important memory we have, the little building blocks of our story, they all happened in your house. I… I think leaving your house behind when I moved was one of the most heart-breaking things I had to do, just because it's so full of memories. Our memories."
"That's… lovely" Maura whispered, feeling a swelling of emotion in her chest. "I always hoped that the people I loved the most would feel comfortable in my home."
Reaching across from her own armchair, Jane took Maura's hand in her own. Nothing was said, but the silence didn't feel stifling or tense. For a few moments, both women sat, enjoying the simple contact without words.
The four chimes of the kitchen clock pulled them both from their thoughts. Turning to face Jane, Maura spoke.
"We should get these papers packed away. My mother is in Geneva for an event. I promised I'd call before tonight. I… I should probably explain to her why I'm still in Europe." Jane nodded in agreement.
"You should. She cares so much about you. Have you spoken to Hope at all since you've been here?" Maura shrugged her shoulders at the mention of her birth mother.
"I called her from France before I left, mainly to inform her that I wouldn't be returning to the clinic yet. I didn't think it was appropriate to speak to her in depth about any of this; especially not when I hadn't told my mom."
Checking the time on her phone, Jane stood up. "O'Neill wants an update on the situation. I should call him. You go ahead and call Constance from the hotel. I'll clean and lock up here, and I'll meet you there for dinner."
Maura picked up her bag and coat, placing the papers she had half-read into one of the boxes. "We may need to come back tomorrow; I can't say I took any of that in." Jane nodded in agreement.
"I know. I might ask Greenly if he could get anyone from his team to do it for us. We only need the highlights. Anyway- go. The last thing you need is the wrath of Constance if you're late.."
/
The lights of the hospital burned brightly against the dusky skies of Oxford as Jane walked through the sliding doors of the ICU. O'Neill's message was followed by another asking for an update on Harriet and, since Maura had already left to call her mother, Jane decided to take the initiative and visit the young historian herself.
Harriet was laid, pallid and frail, in a metal-framed hospital bed. Numerous monitors beeped at random as she breathed with the help of a machine. It was the first time Jane had seen the woman this closely. The first time she had really had the opportunity.
Up close, even after days in hospital and no makeup, Harriet was beautiful. Her mousy brown hair framed a round face that was usually home to playful, dark eyes. Her olive skin, although paler than usual, was still starkly contrasting against the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed.
As she sat, waiting for someone to come and speak to her, Jane couldn't help but note the ways in which the two of them were different. Harriet was much shorter than Jane, she remembered. When the three of them had been in her kitchen, Harriet had been maybe an inch or two shorter than Maura. She had more of a bohemian look about her, with her pierced nose and quirky style of dress. Her home, although definitely the home of a professor, reflected her hippie style with mismatched fabrics and unusual artwork. She was, in Jane's head, exactly the sort of person she imagined Maura hanging around with during her college years, when Maura was experimenting with her new-found freedom and the opportunities to fight for justice. BCU wasn't known for being the most liberal of schools, but Jane could just imagine Maura, Harriet and their friends spending their free time discussing political ideologies, animal rights and feminism. Probably gay rights, too.
Gay.
It was a word that had always troubled Jane.
From being a young girl, it had been used as an insult. By her peers, her brothers, the rookie cops in the academy.
Dyke.
Jane had been singled out, especially in high school, and picked on for her athleticism. Her interests. Her clothes. Her voice. She had learned to live with the comments, to brush them off. One of the best ways, she had learned, was to attach herself to an attractive guy. Once people understood that she, despite her love of hockey and baseball, was attractive to the opposite sex, they left her alone.
But now, with Maura, things were changing. The labels, the words, didn't matter.
"You know, I called her selfish." Jane found herself speaking out loud. "Selfish. She had done nothing wrong. I… I hope you know that."
Harriet responded by breathing, the pump of the machine moving steadily up and down.
"I… I was jealous. Maura means so much to me. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing her. And I know… I know now that I'm the selfish one. Because I want her all to myself. But you have to understand. It's been so long. I've been fighting this for so long…"
Feeling herself becoming emotional, Jane swallowed hard and wiped her eyes.
"I've never felt like this about anyone before. I… I'm not sure if you can hear me, but I want you to know that I'm sorry you got caught up in the middle of all of this. I'm sorry that you got hurt. I'm sorry that I blamed you. I… I just love her so much."
The door to the private room opened slowly.
"Detective?" A young nurse walked in, pulling a clear plastic bag behind her. "Dr Harding is on his way up to speak to you. The paramedics had left these things in the wrong place, I found them and thought the police would probably need them first."
The woman held out the plastic bag, which was full of Harriet's things.
"Thank you".
Taking the bag, Jane rifled through it. Aside from the clothes and shoes she had been wearing, the only other object was Harriet's large, grey leather handbag.
Pulling it out, Jane looked up at Harriet once again and spoke. "I'm sorry to have to do this. I… I'd hate it if I was you. But I need to check."
Systematically looking through Harriet's bag, clutching a protective sheet of plastic from the sink unit in the corner of the room in lieu of gloves, Jane made a note of everything she saw.
"Keys, wallet, lipstick, tweezers, nail file… diary."
Harriet's diary was a large, leather-bound book, filled with notes and various extra sheets of paper.
Turning to the date of her meeting, Jane scanned the page. Nothing screamed 'clue' apart from the heavy underlining Harriet had used to emphasise the date and time of her meeting with Kaplowitz.
"Interesting" Jane commented.
Turning back to her bag, Jane flipped through a handful of receipts and postcards, most of which could have fallen out of her over-stuffed diary.
Pulling out a collection of papers, Jane took a sharp intake of breath at the words 'Bletchley Park Archives' stamped on the back of a postcard-sized item.
Flipping it over, she stared intently. Directly into the eyes of someone who looked very much like Elias Kaplowitz.
"Bingo."