Hi everyone! Thanks for the reviews and comments already :) I'd like to thank MissToastie for correcting my spelling – I can't believe I was spelling Korsak AND Paddy wrong . anywho, this chapter isn't for the faint of heart. I'm setting this whole thing to take place after seasons 4; so hopefully I'm not going to regret writing this when season 5 hits. As always, read and review, please be gentle but be honest! :)
Maura's hands shook around the moss-green mug she was holding.
"I should put this down, Hope gave this to me, she got it for me in Guatemala, it's hand thrown and hand painted and glazed using a local technique that dates back to... to... I can't remember. I don't want to drop it. I should put it down. Yes, I definitely should."
Frankie stared, wide-eyed, across the table. The normally calm, stylish, put-together medical examiner was stammering and uttering nonsense. He had seen this woman face down serial killers, put her hands inside tubs of rotten human remains and save lives. He had eaten dinner across the table from her at least four nights a week for the past year and a half.
She was broken, and bruised, and he had dropped the bomb that almost killed her.
"Maura, I know this is difficult, but I have to ask you some questions... I'm sorry, Jane, but I do!"
Frankie glared at his sister, who was sitting next to Maura shooting him the dirtiest look he'd ever seen. Jane pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over Maura's shoulders.
"Maur, honey, I'm gonna put take this, okay?" Jane said as she gently tugged the mug from Maura's grip.
Maura stared, eyes unfocused, at some point over Frankie's left shoulder. "Yes, yes of course. In 83% of homocides the murderer was known to the victim, and in 49% of cases it was a close family member, 38% were committed by spouses in the last twelve months alone, and... and... Jane, I don't know how many were committed by daughters."
Jane gave a weak smile. "We'll look it up later."
"Maura, where were you last night between the hours of nine and eleven thirty?"
"JESUS, FRANKIE, WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?! You think Maura just strolled into Cedar Junction and killed Patty Doyle?!"
"Rizzoli."
All heads except Maura's snapped in the direction of the new voice. Sean Cavanaugh stood in the doorway of the living room. Angela made to stand, but he waved her down.
"Rizzoli, I know this is hard, and she's your friend, but you know we have to run it this way. I've got the chief and the governor up my ass, and I give it about thirty more seconds before the feds decided that this is their playground. We have to do this right. None of us think that Maura had anything to do with it, but we've gotta go BY THE BOOK, to the LETTER. If I catch you acting like that again I will kick you outside of this house and OFF this investigation. Do I make myself clear?"
Jane slumped, the very picture of a petulant child.
"Rizzoli, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir." pouted Jane.
"Good. Keep going, Frank."
"Maura, do you remember what I asked?" Frankie said gently, leaning across the table to lay his hand on Maura's.
A bitter, horrible taste surged through Jane's mouth. She was met with the overwhelming desire to kick her brother in the face.
Don't you touch her, she's mine.
Jane struggled to keep her feelings in check. She knew better than to start feeling like this now. She'd had two and a half years to tell Maura how she felt. She wasn't going to do it straight after her father had died. There had been countless opportunities – perfect moments. Jane sighed and resumed rubbing her best friends back.
"Yes, Frankie. I was at, um, Jane, the place I showed you yesterday?"
"Oh! Yeah, she was at some art museum opening. Hold on, I think she left the invitation in her purse."
Jane heard Cavanaugh offering condolences as she started up the stairs. Glancing back, she saw him discreetly grab her mothers hand and give it an affectionate squeeze. Angela's red-rimmed eyes looked up at Sean and offered him a watery smile through quivering lips.
Jane's bare feet padded along expensive carpet and rugs to Maura's bedroom. She tried not to look at the photos of her and Maura together, smiling on the wall. There was one taken not so long ago, with Maura and Jane smiling at the camera, Jane's left arm thrown around Mauras shoulders. It had been in the fleeting moment when Jane thought she would marry Casey. The ring glinted ubiquitously, reminding Jane of the man who's heart she had broken before he ran away to war. Through fresh eyes, the photo almost looked like an engagement picture.
Jane swallowed the fresh bile and charged into Maura's perfectly neat bedroom. She found the purse instantly, on the table next to the walk-in closet door. This was one of the things Maura had never quite rescued after Angela's "organization" spree. The label was still stuck to the table, which Jane was sure had been worth quite a bit of money before the words "PURSE/KEYS/MISCELLANEOUS" had been emblazoned on it in the form of a white sticker.
Jane hauled the bag downstairs just in time to see Korsak stomping through the front door. "VINCE." she stage-whispered, beckoning him to sneak onto the stairs where they wouldn't be seen – or heard.
"Vince, what the hell is going on?"
"Jane, you know I'm not supposed to -"
"VINCE."
Korsak sighed, resigned. He knew that Jane was more likely to shoot him in the foot than let him walk away before he'd answered her.
"The guards on the midnight shift doing their first rounds found him. He'd been dead for about an hour, maybe more. Pike is looking at him now. He'd been tazered, Jane. Someone had jerry-rigged a guard tazer and held down the button. Cardiac arrest."
"What, are we looking at a guard here? Who was the last one in his cell?" Jane whispered in horror.
Vince shook his head tiredly. "That's the thing. The last guard that used a keycard in that hallway was found dead, about fifteen feet from Paddy's cell door."
Jane cringed. "Don't they move in pairs? Where's his partner?"
"In the wind. We're trying to find him, but there were drag marks. I'd say he got hauled off."
"Inside job gone bad?"
"Don't know yet, we're playing this one pretty close to the chest."
"Hate to break up this little meeting, but Vince, if you aren't too busy playing Gossip Girl, we need you in here." Cavanaughs voice had a definite edge to it. He glared at them from the bottom of the stairs.
Jane numbly handed Cavanaugh the purse and sat on the step. If he'd wanted her to go back in there, he would have asked for her. On any other case she would have thrown a fit, but she needed to stay on this case. Maura needed her to stay on this case. She needed to catch the people who did this to her best friends father.
It seemed like hours later that Vince finally stuck his head around the corner and nodded for her to come in. In reality, it had probably been a matter of minutes. Jane finally clicked onto what was missing from the picture.
"Vince, where's Frost?"
"Outside with the uniforms, they're setting up who will be watching Maura's house and when."
Jane stopped dead. "She's not STILL a suspect?!"
"No, we checked her alibi. There's even pictures of her on the galleries Facebook page. Good thing one of the major attractions of the museum is the massive clock in the lobby. She was there until at least three AM – it's airtight Jane."
Jane breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Then why the stakeout?"
Vince looked nervously at his shoes. "For her protection."
Jane changed course, starting towards the front door.
"Where are you going?"
"I wanna tell Frost that I'll be staying with her round the clock as well, it might help him out a little."
Jane threw open the front door.
It took her a good ten seconds to process what was happening. The first thing she felt was a warm wetness on her feet. She heard Vince yelling something, but she didn't catch what he'd said.
All she could see was her partner, lying sprawled across the door-step with a bullet hole right between his eyes.