Chapter 25

Tangled Webs

Intro Song: Trouble, Coldplay

Christophe Durand had always had a faculty for getting inside the heads of others; at the seminary he attended before a series of unfortunate events led to his ouster, his fellow seminarians often avoided him for that reason. They claimed he could 'read' them, like a psychic. He knew that Crucis underlings often referred to him behind his back as 'Cole' after the haunted boy in the movie 'The Sixth Sense', implying that Durand could see things others could not.

He'd hated the nickname.

In his mind, there was nothing magical or spooky about what he did - it was simply a matter of paying attention and keeping one's internal antennae attuned to what was going on around them. And his antennae told him that Giles was off his game. Whether it was because Giles' wife was now separated from him, attending to Crucis business in Chicago, or because he had misgivings about the ongoing state of affairs in New York City, he could not be sure.

The appearance of the Los Angeles vampires and their subsequent poking around at New York Medical and Renaissance Home Health had not been an unexpected development. With the long connection of Josef Kostan - previously, Charles Fitzgerald - to Sara Whitley, it had been anticipated. And should have been planned for. Hadn't John Whitley warned him of just that possibility – that Kostan could show up in New York? The wily old man had foreseen this eventuality, but he had thought it would be because of the attempt on Kostan's life that he had orchestrated. What Whitley hadn't known was that his daughter - or at least his daughter's body - had still been alive.

Durand had discovered the existence of Sara Whitley when Kostan and St. John came to New York months before, unknowingly being followed by some of his best Crucis operatives. He had seen no reason to alert the old man to that, however. It would just have made problems with the wealthy man's will - and Crucis needed the Whitley millions to pursue their objectives. He had kept his counsel until Whitley died, indifferent to the idea that the dying man might have wanted to see his daughter one more time, even if it was just her body.

The explosion at the brownstone housing Sara Whitley's body had taken care of that particular loose end, as it was designed to. It had also served as an enticement to bring Josef Kostan back to New York City - a potential development he had discussed at length with Giles in advance. There was, therefore, no excuse for the ineptitude of the attempt on Victoria Silver's life. And the fact that they hadn't even attempted to kill Josef Kostan? It boggled his mind.

A golden opportunity to eliminate the leaders of two of the largest vampire colonies in the country in one fell swoop had slipped through their fingers. Instead, they had not even been able to finally rid themselves of Silver as planned. A crucial linchpin in the plan to eliminate the New York City vampire community had been missed when quick action by the private investigator who had accompanied Kostan had, it appeared, saved her life. This Mick St. John needs to be dealt with. He found even the vampire's name to be an abomination. St. John the Baptist?! Unspeakable heresy!

Christophe scowled at his phone as he mulled over his most recent conversation with John Giles. Durand was inclined to believe that Rebecca Bledsoe was inadvertently the cause of Giles' recent ineffectiveness, but it really didn't matter. What did matter was getting Giles refocused on his work. They were at a critical point in the operations in New York and John was an integral part of the effort. Besides, the reality was that he had bungled badly and there had to be consequences.

"Vivas oportet de consequenti actus tuos," he intoned quietly. You must live with the consequences of your actions.

With a grimace, he thumbed a number, the display showing a 312 area code. Damn, I hate cell phones. This was not a call he wanted to make on his office line, however.

"Yes. This is Durand. I have a job for you…"

Beth reported to Talbot's office at 9:00 A.M. sharp, suppressing her anxiety as best she could. She had to interact with Ben, of course - he was her boss, after all. But his pulling Mick into a discussion of a case with Carl Davis made her uneasy. For someone who had been just a step short of hostile to the P.I., this action was suspicious. And she intended to make sure that she keep Talbot at arms length – and her eyes and ears open.

Sitting down in front of Talbot's desk, she said only, "Good morning, Ben," and got right down to business. "So, the Williams case... it involves what looks like a husband and wife murder-suicide, but there is also a potential financial angle, is that correct?"

"Well, good morning to you too, Beth. Business it is, then."

His sarcastic tone wasn't lost on the young woman. Screw you, Ben.

Talbot launched into details of this latest case. "From what we have learned so far, Robert Williams was an estate attorney, specializing in high-dollar wills, probate, trust funds - usually starting in the millions. His background was impeccable - well respected and ethical by all accounts. He and his wife Elaine were married for over thirty years, and both were considered pillars of the community."

"According to what I've seen, Elaine Williams was accomplished in her own right but chose to stay home and raise their three sons, all now grown," Beth added. "She did a lot of charity work in the community, mostly focused around improving the plight of immigrants - legal and otherwise. My cursory research didn't turn up anything unusual on her." She frowned thoughtfully, adding, "Absolutely nothing I can see indicates any sort of domestic violence, serious marital issues, drug abuse, financial problems, or any other trouble markers." She glanced up from the file with a puzzled look on her face. "There's just nothing to explain it."

Ben sighed. "That doesn't mean anything. Remember the Cho case up in Yorba Linda a few months ago? The man murdered his entire family and then killed himself. No one who knew them could believe it. Goes to show, there's always dirt beneath the surface, no matter how clean it looks."

Beth nodded her head, trying to balance the casualness of Talbot's words with the horrors he'd just described. She didn't know which was worse - the deeds done, or the practiced detachment one had to develop to excel in his line of work. She was determined never to get like that. "How do you want me to handle this?"

"Like you always do," he said with a tight smile. "With tact, diplomacy, and your particular talent for finding what everyone else misses." His lips compressed, his mouth thinning unattractively. "First, I want you to set up meetings with the Williams' sons. If you have to stagger the scheduling, that's fine, but get it done as soon as possible. I'd prefer you talk to them individually; I want to minimize coordination on stories. "

Beth frowned. "You think the sons had something to do with this?"

"Not necessarily, but kids, young or grown, tend to know things people outside the family don't. They know where the skeletons are hidden."

She referred back to her file. "This occurred, when? Friday night? Lieutenant Davis took that call. Wouldn't he and his team have uncovered something by now?"

"No doubt they've done their best, but we have distinct advantages. First, a few days have passed, and the sons are probably over the initial shock - this is actually a good time to follow up with them." Ben paused and looked at Beth appraisingly. "And, please don't take this the wrong way, but these are young men we are dealing with. An attractive woman, a civilian, may get a better reaction from them - and that could get them talking. Purely scientific comment, mind you. Studies have shown that to be the case." He shrugged. "Politically incorrect, perhaps, but accurate."

She frowned. Sadly, he was telling the truth, but she was still bothered by his willingness to state those facts. He really is an insensitive dick. She wasn't about to go all "Erin Brockovich" on this, but she understood what he was saying. "Before I talk to the Williams' sons, I'd like to find out more about the exact cause of death -"

"From the preliminary report, I can tell you that Robert Williams was the likely victim."

"Wait, Ben. Robert was the murder victim?! That is statistically almost never the case... in murder-suicides, if the husband is involved, he's the offender." Beth's wheels started turning. This was getting more interesting.

"Yeah," Ben readily agreed, "so there may be more here than meets the eye. Given that, and the nature of the victims, we're looking at a possible high-profile case. So far, we've been able to have a temporary news black-out by making some strategic alliances with certain key members of the press. There has only been brief mention of this in the weekend local news." He eyed her speculatively. "Thankfully we didn't have a basketball star involved here."

Beth winced at the back-handed reference to the Monaghan case. She knew Ben would still be fuming over that one for the foreseeable future, no matter how composed he appeared to be. "Still," she added, deliberately ignoring the pointed reference, "We need to get our story together. When do you have to get back with your 'strategic alliances' in the media?"

Ben flipped through some papers on the cluttered desktop while he considered the question. "I can probably keep them stalled for another day or so, but no more - and that's provided I can give them a good scoop. Can you get me something solid by Wednesday?"

"I'm all over it," she replied, closing her file and almost jumping out of her chair. "Email me the who, what and where." She left his office, closing his door behind her.

Talbot stared after her for a long moment. Beth clearly wasn't her usual self; she seemed distant, in fact eager to get away from him just now. No, something was off with her, and this was not the first time he sensed it. St. John had to be at least part of the reason, he was sure... Poisoning the well, are you, Mick?His brooding was interrupted by a phone call. "Talbot," he answered flatly. His expression changed when he recognized the caller. "Yeah, sorry about that, Carl. The Williams case took precedence there for a bit... yeah, I know. Listen, I'll have Jamie set everything up and get back in touch with you. St. John will be in on the San Diego discussion, but you and I have things to talk about afterward..."

Mick yawned and stood up from his desk, stretching to work out the kinks that spending time hunched over the computer always generated. Even vampires were not immune to that. Beth had left for work several hours ago and his body told him, in no uncertain terms, that he needed to be in his freezer. First, though...

Rubbing tiredly at his temples, he punched in the number for Logan Griffen. If he's gone off to sleep already, I swear I'll... Fortunately, he did not have to complete the thought as Logan answered on the second ring, his voice sounding as tired as Mick felt.

"Hello, Mick, I figured you'd call me before you hit the freezer."

"Pretty safe bet on that one, Logan. Please tell me you and Ryder have found out where this nurse went when she left New York City."

The confusion generated by the multiple plane tickets purchased in Rebecca Bledsoe's name was weighing heavily on the P.I. Just the fact that she had purchased numerous tickets set off major alarm bells - no sane, innocent person would do something like that. We need to find this woman.

"Yeah, well, you aren't going to like what we found out." Logan's tone was resigned, as if he expected a tongue-lashing from his friend.

"Go on." Mick's voice had an edge to it that wasn't present a moment before. The news, when it came, just made the picture of what had happened in New York that much more confusing.

"She didn't use any of them... not one!" The sound of Logan slamming his hand down flat on his desktop in frustration echoed in Mick's ear.

Mick uttered an expletive in frustration.

"Exactly the way I feel, Mick. All I can tell you is, whatever she did do, she didn't get on an airplane to do it - at least not under that name or any variation of it that Ryder or I could come up with. I'm absolutely sure of it. We hacked into the Homeland Security database, and looked at the passenger manifests on the airlines where she had purchased tickets. She never got on any of them. What the fuck is going on here?!"

"I'm not sure myself, Logan, but she sure as hell didn't want anyone to know where she was going..." Mick frowned into the phone, rubbing his forehead as if the news from Logan had given him a headache. "OK, I want you guys to do a couple of things. Cross-reference all the other adult female passengers on those flights to see if any of them are bogus. It's a long shot, but it's always possible that she took one of those flights under another identity."

Logan's heavy sigh came through the phone. "That's gonna take a while, Mick. And if we come up blank, she literally could have taken any flight going anywhere under an assumed name."

Frustrated, Mick responded, "I know, I know, but we have to be thorough. Private investigator 101. I also want you two to look at all rental car agencies in the city - see if you can find anyone by her name, with her driver's license, who rented a car early that Monday morning - especially look at one-way rentals."

Logan snorted. "You do know the work that's going to involve, right? We have to hack into the DMV to pull up her license – and then, it's going to be a wild goose chase too. I mean, if someone went to that much trouble to confuse anyone who might be looking at flight rosters, what's the chance she would use the same name she used to book the flights to get a rental car?"

"Somewhere between slim and none." Mick growled and disconnected the call. Tossing his phone on top of the shirt he had removed in preparation for climbing in the freezer, he shouted "Fuck!" at the tiled walls in exasperation, the sound echoing in the empty room.

Dammit, am I going to have to go back to New York? The thought was not a pleasant one, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He couldn't keep sending Gabrielle on wild goose chases for him, investigating possible leads in the murder of Sara Whitley. This was really his and Josef's problem, not theirs. Besides, she had her hands full already, dealing with the attacks on vampires in the city, and Victoria's crazy plan for exposing them.

He ran his hands through his thick hair, scrubbing at his scalp, irked over the seemingly endless questions surrounding Sara Whitley's murder and his inability to solve the case for his friend. You'll be able to think better after some rest, he told himself. Tiredly, he unbuckled his belt and pushed at the pants riding on his hips, letting them fall to the floor, where they remained. He was just too tired to pick them up.

Naked, he climbed into the welcome cold of the freezer and pulled the heavy lid shut, apprehension and a sense of foreboding following close behind. Don't dream...

Monday meeting madness was in full swing at the District Attorney's office as lunch time approached. Jamie had personally managed or scheduled half a dozen already. Now, she was working on meeting number seven. With her usual efficiency and attention to detail, she logged the requisite information into her tracking system:

AGENDA: SAN DIEGO MEXICO BORDER
TIME: 2:30 PM PST
LOCATION: Small Conference Room, 282B.
ATTENDEES: ADA Ben Talbot; LAPD Lt. Carl Davis; Mick St. John, P.I.
NOTES:
Copy of file for discussion

Contacted Carl Davis 10:38 AM regarding SD mtg; confirmation pending.
Contacted Mick St. John 10:45 AM; no answer, left VM.

"Thought I'd RSVP in person."

She jumped in surprise, so absorbed in her work that she hadn't seen the detective approach. "Carl, you shouldn't sneak up on me like that!" Damn, now I sound just like Beth!

"Sorry," he offered insincerely, his eyes full of glee. "Kinda jumpy today, aren't we?"

Jamie smiled up at him. She could be miffed at him, but, with those eyes and that smile… Much to her chagrin, she could not seem to help her reaction to him, even though she kept telling herself she should be more disciplined. Judging by how he was staring at her, the feeling was apparently mutual. Enough moon-eyeing, you have work to do. "So, is there anything I can do for you?" she asked in her most professional voice.

Carl grinned wickedly. "Lots, but for right now, I just need to have a file copied." He held up the manila folder he was carrying.

"Sure. Come with me." Jamie jumped up and headed toward the copy room, the detective in tow. "How many sets do you need?" When she whirled to ask the question without warning, Davis had to stop abruptly to keep from running into her. Their faces were almost touching when he skidded to a halt. "Do you mind?" she snapped, flustered, feeling the flush creeping into her cheeks.

"No, not at all," Carl was obviously enjoying himself. He lingered near her for several seconds, enjoying the stolen closeness. Then the gentleman in him took over and he excused himself, stepping back. "By the way, thanks again for having coffee with me yesterday. I really enjoyed it – and I'm sorry if I ruined your day with talk about this case." He tapped the folder he was holding out to her.

Jamie flashed him a genuine smile. "I enjoyed it too – and you don't have to apologize. I understood." She took the file from him and started in, rapidly copying notes, summaries, and other information, as Carl glanced through the newspaper that had been left on the counter in the small room. Good! His being distracted gave her the opportunity to make an extra copy of everything. If he noticed, she had a cover story ready – after all, Mick would need to be able to see what they were discussing, so…

Oh my god.

Nothing in the case description, or her conversation with Carl yesterday, had prepared her for the gruesomeness of the pictures in front of her. She froze, staring blindly down at the heartbreaking images, tears in her soft brown eyes. Her hands shook. She had known of the contents beforehand, but to actually see children so horribly destroyed...

Davis was by her side in an instant. "Jamie, I'm so sorry," he said softly, gently taking the photos from her. "I'm sorry you have to see this - I should have warned you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then, in spite of herself, tears fell. "It shouldn't affect me like this. Just that... after the hurricane, I saw bodies of children, floating... just so horrible... This brings it all back."

He nodded knowingly. Katrina. As a NOLA native, she didn't have to say it. Wordlessly, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it hard. "Hey, you need a minute? Wanna go outside and catch some air?"

"N-n-no... I'm okay. It just- it just hit me. You think you've put nightmares to bed and then -". She stopped, and wiped at her face, gratefully accepting the tissue Carl offered. "Thanks," she said with a slight smile. "Really, I'm fine. Just wasn't ready for that." She composed herself with a couple of deep, shaky breaths.

The detective was ashamed of his insensitivity. His ex-wife had told him over and over how much the job had changed him, made him callous and cynical. Maybe she was right. He tried to make amends. "How about we get out of here now to beat the crowds and I buy you that lunch I owe you? We can forget about this crap." He stuffed the horrific pictures back in the manila folder haphazardly as he spoke.

Jamie thought fast. "You know, that sounds good, Carl. I do have some things I need to handle first though. Can we meet up in about thirty minutes?" Then, almost as an afterthought, she added casually, "Leave me the file too. I can finish the last of the copies and have it ready when you come back. I just need a few minutes…"

"You don't have to do that," Davis protested. "I shouldn't have asked you to in the first place."

"It's my job, Carl. I can deal with it. I have to be able to if I want to keep working here." She reached out her hand for the folder.

There was more than a grain of truth in what she said, Davis acknowledged to himself. "If you're sure…" He handed her the documents.

"Thanks, Carl." Jamie walked away, pausing to give him a backwards glance before continuing down the hallway. Once he was gone, she could double back and finish copying the photographs so she would have an extra copy of all the file contents There was someone she knew would be interested in it.

Beth was sitting at her desk, immersed in the Williams case. Chin propped on one palm as she studied the papers spread out on her desk, she took notes to help her when she interviewed the brothers.

"New case?" Jamie asked, coming up behind her.

Beth jumped, her concentration broken. "Sorry Jamie, I can't talk right now..."

"Not even for coffee? You look like you need a break."

Beth chewed on her lower lip. She had been going non-stop all morning, preparing for these interviews. She could feel a tension headache building at her temples. Maybe a break was exactly what she needed.

As if it were a siren call, the smell of fresh coffee drew them to the kitchenette where, arms folded, Jamie patiently watched her new-found friend pour herself a cup of coffee. I have to push her, she thought, with real remorse for the worry she would be causing. "Bad day?"

"Not really. Ben handed me an interesting case and I have to get ready to interview some persons of interest. It's just, you know, Monday. Trying to get my head back in work mode…"

"I hear ya, girl. You know the old song - they call it Stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad, Lord, and Wednesday's worse..." The slight smile she received from her co-worker made Jamie feel even guiltier about what was coming next, but… you have priorities, Jamie. "Beth, I didn't just ask you in here for a time-out. There's something you should know..." Jamie hesitated, opting to pour herself a cup of coffee before continuing. "I could really get in trouble for telling you this, but it involves Mick so I just think-"

"What is it, Jamie?" Beth snapped, her blue eyes narrowed.

"Ben. He's meeting with Carl and Mick at 2:30 this afternoon. He had me call them to make the arrangements." Jamie averted her eyes, staring instead into her cup. "I made a copy of a file of Carl's today. It... it's bad, Beth. I saw burned bodies, others with their heads missing - and some of the victims were kids!" Jamie looked around, and lowered her voice even further. "Please do not repeat this anywhere - but it looks like the HEM Brotherhood could be involved."

Beth's stomach knotted. HEM?! An image of Josh's agonized face as Mick tried desperately to save him, flashed across her mind. And heads missing? Are the victims, vampires?!

Jamie could not help but notice how still and pale Beth became. "I'm so sorry, Beth. I heard about you and Josh, and God knows, I don't want to cause you any more pain." And I mean that, Lord knows I do. "I just thought you should know what Dickbot wants to talk to Mick and Carl about."

"Why would Talbot involve Mick?" Beth managed to sound calm despite the pounding in her ears.

"I don't know. Carl thinks he is suspicious of Mick and wants him to watch him, see what he can find out about him. I-"

"Ben wants Carl to spy on Mick?!" Beth's face flushed with anger. "Mick saved him from the lunatic plastic surgeon and this is how he repays him? I should quit right now!"

Shit, shit, shit. Jamie hadn't expected this reaction. Had she overplayed her hand? She tried to repair the damage. "Well, I don't know what he's up to. Carl thinks it may just be male jealousy but he's inclined to go along with Talbot for now because he doesn't want him to find someone else to do it who might not have Mick's best interests at heart."

"And Carl does?" Beth's tone was skeptical.

"He does, Beth. He said he wouldn't go along with some Talbot witch hunt. He wants to stay close to the situation so he knows what Ben is up to." Jamie tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I'd say that's probably a good strategy for you too, don't you think?"

Now she sounds like Josef. Beth didn't know what she was going to do but right now…I need to get out of this office. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

Jamie said, "Beth, I do know Carl thinks Ben will want the two of them to go down to San Diego to connect with the investigators down there about this case. Maybe make a trip to the desert to investigate the scene. I think that's what today's meeting is about."

Beth reached a decision. "Jamie, thanks for telling me but I- I've gotta leave. I've got... research to do."

"One more thing before you go." Jamie laid her hand on Beth's as she pulled a folder out from under her arm. "I- I made you a copy of the contents of Carl's file. I mean, I could be fired for this, so I'm trusting you." She handed the folder to Beth and studied her face as she continued. "There are some other documents and photographs there as well that I thought you should see. They came from a file Talbot keeps locked up in his office. They don't seem to be connected to any case that I'm aware of, but they are all notes about Mick. And there are pictures of Mick in the street. Looked like a car accident or something."

Beth's head was reeling. A secret file Talbot kept on Mick? Those damn Dean Foster pictures again? "I- thank you, Jamie. I really appreciate it – and your secret's safe with me." She accepted the folder gratefully, then, impulsively hugged her co-worker. "I owe you a lot – I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to Mick. I really need to go…" She gestured toward the general area of her desk with the folder.

"Get out of here." Jamie made shooing motions towards Beth. "I'll let you know if I find out anything else about the meeting."

Beth silently mouthed the words "thank you" as she dumped her mug into the nearby sink and headed out.

The sense of guilt Jamie felt was crushing. Somehow, Auxilium's mission seemed a hollow excuse for what she was putting Beth through - a woman she would really like to call a friend. She consoled herself with the thought that she had helped Beth to be aware of the risks Mick seemed about to take on. And then there was Talbot. What was he up to? "No good," she muttered out loud as she headed back to her desk – and a waiting Carl Davis.

"Carl!" Has it been thirty minutes already?!"

"Yup! You ready?" he asked, rising from his chair. "I grabbed the folder by the way. Thanks for finishing the copies."

Jamie nodded, relieved that she hadn't wasted any time getting the spare copies to Beth. She had never been so ready to get away from the office. It seemed like she'd had to tell a different lie to every person she spoke with today – with no end in sight. "Yeah, let's get outta here. I feel like the walls are closing in on me here." This isn't a game anymore.

End Song: Wicked Game, Chris Isaac