Chapter 9

The next morning, the Boston Police bullpen felt more like a war zone than a place of work. Uniformed officers and detectives moved sluggishly between desks, their bodies stiff with exhaustion after pulling double shifts for the marathon detail. There were dark circles under everyone's eyes, and coffee cups littered every surface, like battle-worn relics of a sleepless night.

Detective Korsak sat heavily at his desk, rubbing his temples as he scrolled through the latest reports. He looked like he'd aged five years overnight, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by a barely contained grimace of fatigue. Frost was no better, his movements slow, almost robotic, as he muttered to himself while sifting through paperwork. The entire bullpen had the same hollow, drained energy. Conversations were minimal, and when people did talk, their voices were low, as if too tired to fully engage. The usual hum of activity had been reduced to a lethargic crawl, the officers' footsteps heavy and their heads down.

Everyone was dragging, except for Jane.

Despite barely catching any sleep after Maura picked her up last night, Jane was strangely alert, her mind buzzing with information about Ava and Anna. She moved through the bullpen with a sharpness that felt out of place amid the heavy atmosphere. She hadn't had time to fully process what she'd learned—the two women, their lives seemingly ordinary on the surface, might have been living a dangerous double life. It gnawed at her, the idea that they were hiding something, and that curiosity burned through the exhaustion, keeping her wired.

Her colleagues noticed, tiredly, her sudden intensity. Korsak, bleary-eyed, looked up at Jane as she plopped down in her chair, immediately flipping through files. "You're not tired?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.

Jane shrugged, not even glancing up from the report. "Running on fumes," she admitted, though her tone was anything but tired. "Besides, I'm used to it. I can sleep when we crack this."

Frost raised an eyebrow from across the room, stifling a yawn. "You might want to take a nap at some point. We're all running on empty here."

Jane gave a wry smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Can't. Got too much rattling around in my head." She glanced at the board, where pictures of the blue-eyed Ava and green-eyed Anna were pinned up, lines connecting them to various pieces of evidence. "Something's gotta start adding up between these two. It's obvious they were more in touch than they wanted us to believe."

"Other than the fact that Anna may have been pretending to be Ava this whole time?" Frost yawned.

Jane tapped her knee wildly. "It changes everything we know if that's the case. For all we know, the person who killed Ava may not have even been after her. Maybe they were after Anna. Korsak, did you get ahold of Mr. Lewis? Or anyone else in the family?"

Korsak snorted. "No, he's not returning my calls. Seems like he'd much rather appear for TV interviews than actually help." He grumbled.

Jane's phone buzzed on her desk and a small smile crept at the edge of her lips when she saw Maura's name.

Stitches need to come out today. Come see me when you find some time.

Jane examined her still bandaged hand, a slight memory forming in her mind of that day. She wished the nightmares had subsided. Maybe they had. She didn't wake up in a cold sweat as much, but Rebecca still haunted her deeper consciousness. Still pressing her to finish this case, finish for the sake of the victims and their families, despite how they may slander her and her team on TV. Rebecca would have wanted her to.


The dull hum of the precinct filled the small, sterile interrogation room where Jane sat across from a young girl, barely 13, her long braided hair hanging over her shoulder. The oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame, and her hands tugging nervously at the sleeves as she stared down at the table. She hadn't said much since Jane brought her in. Her wide green eyes flicked up occasionally, meeting Jane's for only a split second before darting back to the floor.

Jane could feel the weight of the silence between them. The urgency gnawed at her—this girl had witnessed something horrific. One of her friends had been murdered, and Jane was certain she had seen the man who did it. But rushing her wouldn't help. Jane needed the girl to trust her, to feel safe enough to talk. The weight of the investigation hung heavy on her shoulders, but right now, she focused entirely on the fragile girl in front of her.

"Rebecca," Jane started gently, her voice soft but steady, "I know you're scared. What you went through… no one your age should have to see something like that. But I promise, I'm not here to get you in trouble. I'm here because I want to help."

Rebecca's fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, twisting it between her fingers. She didn't speak, but Jane could tell she was listening. The girl's body language spoke volumes—she was terrified, but she wasn't shutting Jane out completely.

Jane leaned forward slightly, keeping her tone calm, almost maternal. "I can't imagine how hard this is for you. But the man who hurt your friend… he's still out there. And we need your help to stop him. Not just for your friend, but for anyone else he might hurt."

Rebecca's eyes flickered up again, and this time, they lingered for a moment longer. Jane felt a glimmer of hope.

"I know it feels like a lot," Jane continued, "but you're not in this alone. I'm here. And I'm going to protect you, no matter what. But I need you to trust me, okay?"

There was a long pause, the tension in the air thick, but then Rebecca finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to get in trouble."

Jane's heart clenched. "You won't, I promise," she said softly. "No one's going to blame you for anything. You're not in trouble, Rebecca. But if we don't stop him, someone else might get hurt. And I know you don't want that."

The girl's lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers tugged nervously at her hoodie again. Jane waited patiently, resisting the urge to push. Finally, Rebecca took a shaky breath, her voice quiet but steady. "I… I saw him. The guy who did it."

Jane kept her own breath even though her pulse quickened. "Okay," she said calmly. "That's really brave of you to tell me. Can you describe him for me? Anything you remember will help."

Rebecca hesitated, then nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on the table as if she was reliving the scene in her mind. "He was tall. Like, really tall. And he had a beard—scruffy, not neat. He was wearing a jacket, like one of those big, heavy ones. Might have been black, or navy.."

Jane nodded, jotting down the description. "Did you see his face?"

Rebecca's eyes grew distant for a moment as she tried to recall. "Yeah… I think he was white. And his nose was… kinda crooked, like it had been broken before. And he had these… these dark eyes. Mean-looking. Real big, like he was angry."

Jane felt a chill run down her spine. This was the best description they'd had so far. Every other witness had been too shaken, too scared to remember details. But Rebecca had seen him—really seen him. Jane's pen hovered over the notepad as she pressed gently. "You're doing great, Rebecca. You're helping a lot. Was there anything else about him that stood out? Something unusual? A scar, a tattoo, anything like that?"

Rebecca thought for a moment, biting her lip. "He had a tattoo on his hand. I didn't see all of it, but… it was like some kind of shape, like a "X" or something. I just saw it when he grabbed—" Her voice faltered, and her breath hitched.

Jane quickly reached across the table, resting her hand gently over Rebecca's. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to say more if it's too hard. You've already done so much."

The girl's small hand trembled beneath Jane's, and Jane felt a surge of protectiveness. This wasn't just about the case anymore. This was about Rebecca, about making sure this girl knew someone cared—someone would keep her safe. Jane had seen too many kids like Rebecca, caught in the crossfire of violence, neglected by systems that were supposed to protect them. She wasn't going to let that happen to Rebecca.

"I know you're scared," Jane said quietly. "But you've been so brave. And I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I'm going to make sure you're safe. I'll make sure this guy can't hurt anyone else."

Rebecca blinked, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You… you promise?"

Jane's throat tightened. "I promise," she said, her voice firm. "I'm going to take care of this. And I'm going to take care of you, too."


Jane sat on the edge of Maura's examination table, her hand outstretched as Maura carefully worked to remove the stitches. The medical examiner's brow was furrowed in concentration as she gently tugged at each thread with precision. Jane, on the other hand, was doing her best to pretend that the sharp little pinches didn't hurt as much as they actually did.

"So," Maura said, without looking up, "what's your fake story going to be this time? You know, when someone asks how you really got this cut?"

Jane smirked, already anticipating the skepticism that would come. "I'm thinking I'll tell them I saved a kitten from a burning building. Had to fight off a vicious pack of stray dogs at the same time. Or, I was cutting a bagel for my soon to be wife and uh… missed?"

Maura's lips pressed together in the faintest hint of disapproval, though Jane could tell she was trying not to smile. "A kitten? Stray dogs? A bagel? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Yeah, you know, real dramatic. Smoke everywhere, flames everywhere. I had to leap through a window to save the little furball. All while single-handedly keeping the dogs at bay." Jane sat up a little straighter, happy with her story.

Maura gave her a look—one of those "you're impossible" looks—and returned to her task. As Maura finished applying the ointment and carefully wrapped Jane's hand in a fresh bandage, she adopted her most serious, no-nonsense tone. "Now, Jane, just because the stitches are out doesn't mean you're in the clear. You still need to take care of this properly."

Jane raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. "I know, I know. Keep it clean, don't overdo it. I've heard this lecture before, Doc."

Maura, ignoring the sarcasm, continued with a precise and matter-of-fact tone. "It's more than just keeping it clean. You need to keep it properly bandaged until the skin fully heals, and make sure you're not putting too much pressure on it. That means no heavy lifting, no strenuous activities."

Jane smirked. "So, no heroics, huh? What if I need to leap into action?"

Maura gave her a pointed look, her voice unyielding. "No heroics, no leaping into action, and most definitely no running into burning buildings. Or making me bagels. At least not for a while."

Jane watched her, amused. Maura's little medical lectures always cracked her up, though she knew better than to say it out loud. Not that it always stopped her.

Jane grinned, but Maura's face remained serious. "I mean it, Jane. If you're not careful, you could tear the wound open again, and then you'll need more stitches. That's if you don't end up with an infection first. So, doctor's orders: keep it clean, keep it wrapped, and try not to do anything reckless."

"Reckless? Me?" Jane said with mock innocence, her grin widening. "I'd never."

Maura narrowed her eyes. "And no lying, either. I know you too well."

"You know," Jane said, her voice casual but teasing, "you're kind of cute when you go into full 'Doctor Mode.'"

Maura's hands stilled for a moment, and her expression flattened. "I am not cute, Jane."

Jane grinned, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, I beg to differ."

"'Cute' implies something diminutive or childlike," Maura said, returning to her task with a huff. "I am neither. I'd prefer to be thought of as capable, intelligent—"

"Terrifying," Jane interrupted, enjoying the way Maura's brow furrowed further. "Don't forget terrifying. You do that really well."

Maura gave her a pointed look, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I am not terrifying either. And your attempt at flattery is misplaced."

Maura eyed Jane narrowly, but a soft pink rose in her cheeks, and Jane knew she liked this bickering more than she wanted to admit.

Jane sighed, the teasing tone fading just slightly, and she held up her hands in playful defeat. "Okay, fine. No burning buildings, no fighting off wild animals. I'll try to be good."

As the conversation shifted, Maura asked more seriously, "Did you actually get any sleep last night? You didn't look well-rested when you left this morning."

Jane sighed, shaking her head. "Nope. Didn't sleep much. There's just too much going on with Ava and Anna. I've got this nagging feeling that we're closer to what's missing."

Maura raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What did you find?"

Jane shifted slightly, leaning back on the table as she filled Maura in. "Well, I'm starting to think Anna and Ava were switching lives. You know how one of them was supposedly taking English classes? It had to be Anna. The more I dig, the more I think Ava wasn't even involved in those classes. She could've been off doing something completely different, or she wasn't there at all."

Maura's brow furrowed as she processed this. "That's incredibly risky. One would need to study the other's habits, mimic their behavior, dress like them… even identical twins have subtle physical differences—someone would've noticed eventually. Maybe their parents did know something, or maybe there's more to it."

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Jane said, running a hand through her hair. "Maybe one of them was in trouble, or one of them wanted something the other had. But there's definitely more to this than we thought."

Maura, her hands now folded neatly in front of her, looked at Jane thoughtfully. "It's possible the family was part of the ruse, or at the very least complicit in some way. Or perhaps they were distant enough not to notice—or chose not to notice."

Jane sighed again, staring at her newly stitch-free hand. "Either way, I need to talk to someone in that family. Someone has to know something."

Maura reached for some ointment and gently applied it to Jane's hand. "Just be careful," she said softly. "If this deception runs as deep as you think, there could be more at stake than just figuring out who was taking which class."

As Maura carefully put away the supplies she'd used to clean and bandage Jane's hand, Jane leaned against the counter, watching her fiancée with a kind of softness she didn't often let show. Maura's precise movements, the way she methodically organized everything back into its rightful place, always fascinated her. But today, watching Maura work, Jane felt something else—a twinge of guilt mixed with longing.

This past week had been a blur of late nights and missed dinners. They had barely seen each other, always coming and going at different times, caught up in the chaos of their jobs. Jane didn't like how that felt, this growing distance. It made her wonder: Is this what their marriage would be like? Always too busy, barely having time for each other? The thought settled heavily in her chest, and she realized she missed Maura more than she wanted to admit.

Maura finished with the last of the supplies and, sensing the weight of Jane's gaze, turned to face her. She frowned slightly, noticing the faraway look in Jane's eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice gentle but concerned.

Jane blinked, her focus snapping back to Maura. She nodded, but after a beat, she added, "I just… I miss you."

The admission hung in the air for a moment, and Maura's expression softened immediately. Jane pushed off the counter and crossed the small distance between them, wrapping her arms around Maura in a slow, deliberate hug. Maura melted into her embrace, her arms circling around Jane's waist, pulling her close. Jane's head rested in the crook of Maura's neck, her nose brushing against the soft skin there, and she inhaled deeply, catching the familiar, comforting scent of Maura's perfume. It was like coming home, and she hadn't realized how much she needed this until now.

They stayed like that for a long moment, the silence of the lab wrapping around them as if to protect this little bubble of peace they'd created. Jane could feel Maura's warmth against her, the steady rise and fall of her breath, and for the first time all week, everything felt right.

When Jane finally pulled back, her hand lingered on Maura's back, and she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. It was gentle, unhurried, like they were savoring the moment, and when Jane pulled away, she rested her forehead against Maura's, their noses barely brushing.

"I hate that we've been so busy," Jane whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Feels like I haven't really seen you."

Maura's hand came up to cup Jane's cheek, her thumb gently brushing along the curve of her jaw. "I know," she said softly. "I've missed you, too."

Jane closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch. "We can't let this become normal, Maura. I don't want us to always be too busy for this."

Maura smiled, a soft, understanding smile, and she pressed her lips lightly to Jane's forehead. "It won't be. We'll make time for each other. We always do."

Jane exhaled, letting the weight of her earlier thoughts melt away, even if just for now. "Yeah. We will."

They stood there for a little while longer, holding each other, their foreheads still touching, neither wanting to break the moment. It was the kind of closeness that didn't need words, a quiet reminder of the bond they shared, the love they had that always managed to find its way back through the noise and chaos of their lives.

Just as Jane was settling deeper into the moment, her phone rang. The sharp sound shattered the peaceful bubble they had created. Jane groaned softly, her forehead still resting against Maura's as she fished her phone out of her pocket.

With a sigh, Jane swiped to answer the call, pressing the phone to her ear. "Frost, this better be good."

Maura placed a small kiss on JAne's forehead before heading to her office while Jane listened.

Frost's voice came through the line, sounding more awake than when she last saw him. "Jane, you're gonna want to get up here. Anna just showed up at the station. She says she needs to talk to you."

Jane's eyes widened in shock. "Anna? Are you sure it's her?"

"Positive," Frost replied quickly. "She walked in about ten minutes ago, asking for you specifically. She looks shaken up. Said it's important."

Maura, still watching Jane closely, noticed the shift in her expression and tilted her head. "What is it?"

"It's Anna," Jane said, lowering the phone slightly as she met Maura's eyes. "She showed up at the station. Wants to talk to me."

Maura's brow furrowed in surprise. "That's… unexpected."

Jane nodded, still trying to wrap her head around it. "Yeah, no kidding."

Frost's voice on the other end of the line brought her back. "Jane, you should get here. She's not saying much, but I think she's ready."

"I'm on my way," Jane said quickly before hanging up the phone.

Jane hesitated for a second, torn between wanting to stay in this moment with Maura and the pull of the case that was now demanding her attention. But Maura, always understanding, gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be here. Go do what you need to do."

Jane leaned in, placing a quick kiss on Maura's lips, and whispered, "Thanks. I'll call you later."

With that, Jane grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, her mind already shifting gears to Anna and what she could possibly be ready to reveal. As she walked out of the lab, the warmth of Maura's embrace lingered with her, grounding her as she prepared to face whatever was waiting at the station.


Beautiful, delicate, cautious, just like her sister. How familiar her mannerisms, how sweet her voice, like a strong liquor in my throat. A darkness dwells in me and awakens when I smell her scent. A shiver down my spine that is hungry. What must her life be like now, Jane? We must wonder. We must care. Or else, what are we doing here in this little dance? Are you unraveling yet? Do you see your past in her eyes, your dark and sensual past that eats at you when you sleep. I know you see her. Every night when you close your eyes, I made sure you never forgot her face.

Does she know? Does Anna know she can't trust you? Does she know that getting involved with you will only lead to her death? She can't know. She won't know until I tell her. You can't protect her as hard as you may try. It will be unraveling when you realize that despite your past, you still can't protect her. Your promises will never be strong enough.

Have you figured it all out yet, Jane? Do you know what's about to happen?


Jane: We got a lot of info from Anna. Think she knows more, but she needs a break.

Maura: That's great, Jane. What happens next?

Jane: We still don't know a suspect, but we know Anna was involved in the literature group at school, led by that professor, Dr. Hughes. They are meeting tonight, I think Frost and I are going to go talk to her again.

Maura: Anything I can do?

Jane: No. I'll be home late. Don't wait up for me.

Maura: Okay. Be careful.

Jane: Always.


Jane and Frost stood in front of the towering cathedral-like building that housed the university's literature department, its gothic architecture looming over them like something out of an old novel. The kind of place that almost felt designed to intimidate. Raindrops, cold and insistent, pecked at their cheeks, and they hurried up the stone steps toward the entrance. The drizzle had already soaked through the collar of Jane's jacket, but that wasn't what was bothering her.

"This place really lives up to the stereotypes, huh?" Jane quipped as she wiped a few drops of rain from her face.

Frost smirked as he pulled open the door. "Yeah, all they're missing are some gargoyles and a fog machine."

Inside, the building was just as imposing as the outside—tall, vaulted ceilings and dark wood everywhere. The kind of place that smelled like old books and quiet secrets. As they walked through the dimly lit hallway, Jane pulled the small business card out of her pocket, the one Dr. Casey Hughes had given her after they questioned her a few days ago.

She stared at it for a moment, then slipped it back into her jacket, her unease growing. "I don't know, Frost," Jane muttered, her voice low as they approached the lecture hall door. "Something about Dr. Hughes didn't sit right with me last time. I got this feeling she was holding back, like she knew more about the girls than she was letting on."

Frost gave her a curious glance. "You think she's involved in the switching? Like she helped them?"

Jane shrugged, but there was tension in her shoulders. "Maybe. Or maybe she just feels responsible. I mean, Ava's death had to hit close to home for her. If one or both of them were her students? But when we talked to her, there was something off. She got cagey when we asked about her personal life, like she was hiding something."

They stopped in front of Dr. Hughes' lecture hall, a large wooden door with her name etched into a brass plaque. Jane paused, running through the plan in her mind. "We go in, keep it casual. Observe. Ask a few questions, and see how she reacts. Give her some bait, see if she bites."

Frost raised an eyebrow, his voice steady but cautious. "Just… be careful, okay? Last time we talked to her, you were a little rough. We don't need to scare away someone who might actually help us break the case."

Jane rolled her eyes, though there was a flicker of guilt behind her smile. "Me? Rough? Come on, I'm always professional."

Frost grunted in response.

Jane and Frost stood at the top of the lecture hall, gazing down at the expanse that opened below them. The room was vast, its tiered seating descending toward a small group of students huddled at the front. The students sat with hunched shoulders, their attention fixed on a young girl seated on the floor with an old, worn book splayed out across her lap. She read aloud, her voice low but intense, and the other students listened intently, their faces reflecting deep concentration.

"The old gods," the girl read, her voice steady and deliberate, "demanded reverence, their power rooted in the earth, in blood, and in the very bones of the world. But the new gods… they rose from the ashes of civilization, forged in fire and iron, bringing chaos in their wake. Their war was a clash of ancient forces against the modern, a struggle not just for dominion, but for survival itself."

Jane's eyes flicked to the side of the room where Dr. Hughes perched on the edge of her desk, watching her students with a small, proud smile. There was an admiration in the professor's expression, a kind of reverence for the quiet intensity of the group. Jane couldn't help but notice how calm and content Dr. Hughes looked in this setting, as if she were part of the very world the girl was describing.

As Jane and Frost descended the steps toward the group, Dr. Hughes' face lit up at the sight of them. She stood gracefully, waving them over with genuine warmth in her expression. "Detectives," she greeted softly, though her voice still carried across the hall. "I didn't expect you so soon. I'm honored that you've come to experience our little gathering."

Jane offered a polite nod, her eyes scanning the room as the girl continued reading from the book.

"Looks like a fascinating class." Frost started.

Jane quickly chimed in. "We're just here to ask a few more questions."

Dr. Hughes smiled, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "It is." She ignored Jane's attempt at changing the conversation. Jane's nostrils flared. "We're exploring darker themes in literature—authors who used mythology and ancient stories to channel deep, primal emotions. It's about connecting with those inner struggles, feeding them through the text, and finding release in the process."

Frost, standing beside Jane, raised an eyebrow. "Does this really help?" he asked, his tone skeptical but not dismissive. Jane heard a genuine curiosity in his voice that she didn't hear often.

Dr. Hughes smirked, a small, knowing smile that Jane found... mildly attractive. "For them, yes. It's a release," Dr. Hughes replied, glancing at her students with clear affection. "By exploring the dark and difficult themes, they learn to confront the complexities of their own lives. It's a way to face fear, loss, and anger without being consumed by it."

Jane watched the professor speak with such passion, a slight flutter in her chest that she immediately pushed away. She focused on the case, reminding herself why they were there.

"After this," Dr. Hughes continued, turning her gaze back to Jane, "we're going to celebrate Ava's life. We've gathered some of her writing, and we plan to read it aloud together. She was one of my brightest students. This group adored her."

Jane's attention snapped back fully at the mention of Ava. "You're reading Ava's work?"

Dr. Hughes nodded, her expression softening with a tinge of sadness. "Yes. I thought it would be a meaningful way for the group to honor her memory, especially considering how much she meant to them."

Jane exchanged a glance with Frost.

"Would it be all right if we sat in?" Frost asked, his voice carefully casual. "We'd like to hear what she wrote."

Dr. Hughes' smile returned, though it was more subdued. "Of course, Detective. You're more than welcome." Though she was answering Frost's question, her eyes lingered on Jane.

As the girl finished her reading, the small group of students around her responded with quiet nods of approval, some offering soft smiles, others simply clapping gently. The air in the room was heavy with a shared sense of understanding, as if they all recognized the weight of the story they had just heard. Dr. Hughes clapped along with the students, her face lighting up as she praised the reader.

"Beautifully done, Allyssa" Dr. Hughes said warmly, stepping forward. "You handled those difficult passages with grace and calculated emotion, truly bringing out the depth of the old gods' conflict. It's not easy to capture that kind of ancient power in words, but you did."

The girl smiled, modest and a bit shy, as she accepted the praise and returned to her seat. Dr. Hughes took a moment, her eyes sweeping over her students, before her expression shifted—becoming more somber, more reflective.

"Before we continue, I want to take a moment to talk about Ava," Dr. Hughes began, her voice quieter now, filled with sadness. "Ava was a gifted writer, someone who could express the complexities of life in ways that many of us struggle to understand, let alone articulate. Her work was rich with emotion, with depth. She had the ability to take an ordinary moment and imbue it with extraordinary meaning. Her penmanship, her attention to detail… It was remarkable."

Jane and Frost exchanged a glance, both of them observing the room closely as Dr. Hughes continued. Jane could see the genuine sadness in most of the students. Some had tears welling in their eyes, others sat in silence, their shoulders hunched as if the weight of Ava's loss pressed down on them. But Jane's attention was drawn to one girl in particular, seated near the back, her posture rigid and her expression far from mournful. Her jaw was tight, and her hands were clenched in her lap. She didn't look sad—she looked angry.

The girl's eyes flicked away every time Ava's name was mentioned, and when Dr. Hughes passed out copies of Ava's work for the students to read, the girl refused to take one. Her hands stayed firmly in her lap, her face a mask of barely concealed frustration.

Jane noticed Dr. Hughes' gaze linger on the girl for a second, as if she, too, had picked up on the tension. But Dr. Hughes didn't comment on it, didn't draw attention to the girl's cold shoulder. She simply handed the papers to the other students and continued, though Jane could tell that the professor was aware of the shift in one of her students. She chose not to address it, perhaps out of respect for the girl's emotions, or perhaps because it wasn't the first time this had happened.

Dr. Hughes cleared her throat, her tone now thick with remembrance. "Ava was taken from us far too soon, but her words—her voice—live on through her writing. Today, we're going to share some of that. I hope as you read her work, you'll feel her presence here with us. She would have loved to know that her words still mean something to the people she cared about."

Jane leaned over to Frost, her voice low. "That girl in the back… something's up with her."

Frost glanced over discreetly, nodding as he caught sight of the girl. "Yeah, she's definitely not here to celebrate Ava."

As the students began reading aloud from Ava's writings, their voices mingling softly in the grand space of the lecture hall, Jane found herself distracted. Her eyes drifted away from the students and settled on Dr. Casey Hughes, standing near the front of the room. There was something about the professor that had been pulling at Jane ever since they met, something that stirred a quiet curiosity within her.

In many ways, Dr. Hughes reminded Jane of Maura. There was the same air of formality, the polished exterior that made every gesture seem deliberate. The way she dressed—elegant but understated, every detail perfect. Her posture, the way she seemed to command attention effortlessly, without ever raising her voice. She was beautiful, undeniably so, but there was something else, something deeper. A darkness, maybe. An enigma.

Jane's chest felt heavy as she watched Dr. Hughes. Her mind, which was normally sharp and focused, began to wander, chasing thoughts she couldn't quite grasp. What was it that intrigued her so much about this woman? Was it her composure? The way she never seemed rattled, even under pressure? Or was it something darker, the mysterious edge Jane couldn't put her finger on?

Dr. Hughes wasn't like anyone Jane had encountered in a while. She was refined, intelligent, but there was something about her that felt… hidden. Jane had seen glimpses of it, little flashes of something beneath the surface, but she hadn't quite cracked the code yet. There was a puzzle there, and Jane couldn't help herself—she wanted to solve it, to know what Dr. Hughes was really hiding behind that polished exterior.

What am I looking for? Jane asked herself, her thoughts drifting in and out as the students continued to read. It wasn't just about the case anymore, was it? She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being drawn toward Dr. Hughes for reasons she couldn't fully understand. There was a connection forming, one that Jane wasn't sure she wanted to explore, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of her mind.

For a moment, it seemed as if the professor hadn't noticed Jane's attention, her focus still on the students in front of her. But then, as if sensing the weight of Jane's stare, Dr. Hughes shifted slightly, her posture tightening ever so subtly.

Dr. Hughes turned her head, just enough for her eyes to meet Jane's across the room. For a brief moment, her expression was neutral—calm, collected, the perfect picture of a poised academic. But there was something in her eyes, something flickering just beneath the surface. It was quick, almost imperceptible—a flash of recognition, maybe even curiosity.

Jane felt her breath hitch slightly as their gazes locked. Dr. Hughes didn't look away immediately; instead, she held Jane's stare, her lips curving ever so slightly into a hint of a smile. It wasn't the warm, open smile that she'd offered earlier when speaking about Ava. This one was different. It was knowing, guarded, like she was aware of Jane's curiosity and was daring her to look deeper.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed. Dr. Hughes broke eye contact, turning her attention back to her students as if nothing had happened. She clapped softly as one of the students finished reading a passage, her voice calm and encouraging. "Beautiful work. You captured the rhythm of Ava's words perfectly."

Frost applauded as well, and Jane side eyed him. "What? It was good." He shrugged.

Jane blinked, the weight of that brief exchange settling in her chest. She wasn't imagining it—Dr. Hughes had noticed her, and it wasn't just a casual acknowledgement. There was something in the way the professor had looked at her, something unspoken. It was as if Dr. Hughes knew exactly what Jane was thinking, understood the strange pull between them, and wasn't afraid to let Jane feel it.

As soon as the students began to gather their things and slowly filter out of the lecture hall, Jane and Frost exchanged a quick glance. They didn't have much time. If they wanted to get a read on the group, now was the moment. Frost nodded toward the girl who had been sitting in the back, the one who had refused to participate in reading Ava's work, her face still tight with barely concealed anger.

"I'll take her," Frost said under his breath. "There's something going on there."

Jane nodded. "Good. I'll talk to the boy who was crying."

The plan was simple enough, but as Jane approached the boy—his face still red and puffy from tears—her mind wasn't in the conversation. She asked him a few questions, the kind that felt routine, almost scripted. "How did you know Ava?" "Were you close?" "Did she ever mention feeling unsafe?"

The boy's voice wavered as he answered, his words tumbling out in a mess of grief and confusion. Jane nodded along, but her attention was elsewhere. Her eyes kept drifting back to Dr. Hughes, who remained at the front of the room, packing up her materials with that same quiet elegance.

Jane tried to focus on what the boy was saying, but it was impossible. Dr. Hughes was all she could think about. She moved with deliberate care, her back straight, her hands methodically organizing the papers on her desk. Even in this small, mundane task, there was an aura of control about her—an impenetrable wall that Jane wanted, needed, to break through.

"Detective?" the boy's voice finally broke through, snapping Jane back to reality.

"Hm?" Jane blinked, turning her attention back to him. "Sorry, what did you say?"

The boy looked down, clearly unsure of himself. "I—I just said… Ava seemed distant lately. Like something was bothering her, but she wouldn't say what. She just seemed… off."

Jane nodded, though her mind was still elsewhere. "Thanks. I appreciate you talking to me. If you remember anything else, just let us know."

As the door closed behind the crying boy, Jane felt a shift in the atmosphere of the lecture hall. The vast room, which had moments ago been filled with murmuring voices and the quiet rustle of papers, now seemed almost too large, too imposing. The space between her and Dr. Hughes felt both intimate and daunting, with no one else left to fill it but the two of them.

Frost had sprinted after the girl he had been speaking to, leaving Jane alone with the professor. The sound of her own footsteps felt heavier as she approached her desk. Jane's mind was racing with questions, but she fought to keep her thoughts in check. There was no room for distraction now. Not with this woman.

"Dr. Hughes, I know you are busy, but…"

"Please, detective, call me Casey. My students are the only ones who call me Dr. Hughes." The woman cut in calmly.

Jane nodded. "I have to ask a few follow-up questions," Jane said, her tone professional, keeping her voice steady. "We've been looking into the possibility that Ava and her sister switched places. Did you notice anything… off in the weeks before Ava's death? Maybe she was acting out of character?"

Casey looked at Jane with the same composed expression, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something Jane couldn't quite pin down. Was it genuine ignorance, or was she navigating these questions with the ease of someone who had mastered the art of deflection?

"Detective," Casey began, her voice as smooth as ever, "I've told you before, I wasn't close with Ava outside of class and her studies. She was a bright student, yes, but she didn't share personal matters with me. If Ava or Anna were switching places, I wouldn't have known." She gave a slight, graceful shrug. "I'm afraid I can't help with that."

Jane pressed on, watching carefully for any cracks in Casey's calm demeanor. "You mentioned before that Ava seemed distant. Do you think that could have been Anna, taking her sister's place?"

Casey paused for a moment, her gaze steady as she met Jane's eyes. "It's possible," she conceded, "but I wouldn't want to speculate. My focus was always on their academic performance, not her personal lives. If they were switching places, I didn't notice. Her writing never changed."

"Yeah," Jane clicked her tongue and tapped her pen on her pad. "So you've said." Casey's answers were too perfect, too measured. Either she genuinely didn't know, or she was expertly dodging the truth. Jane couldn't shake the feeling that Casey knew more than she was letting on.

She continued to ask more leading questions, probing for any sign that Casey might slip up, but the professor remained poised, her responses smooth and seemingly without effort. Even when Jane subtly baited her with comments that might've tripped up someone less practiced—mentioning inconsistencies in the girls' timelines, or the idea that someone had to be helping them switch places—Casey didn't falter.

"I do wish I could be of more help," Casey said after a particularly well-deflected question, her voice low and sincere. "Ava was a remarkable student. I'm as shocked as anyone by her death."

"Well, thank you anyway." Jane flipped her notepad shut, a little frustrated at her lack of being able to crack through the professor.

Just as Jane was about to turn and leave, she heard the soft sound of movement behind her. Casey had risen from her desk and was approaching her, the shift in her demeanor impossible to miss. There was something different in the way she moved now, a subtle shift in energy, like she was playing into the curiosities that Jane had worked so hard to suppress.

For a moment, Jane wondered if Casey could sense it—the pull, the questions Jane didn't even fully understand herself. It unsettled her, but before she could retreat into her usual armor of professionalism, Casey's voice cut through the silence, light and conversational, but with an edge of something else.

"Detective Rizzoli," Casey said, her tone softer than before, as if they were no longer discussing work. "I've been meaning to ask—how do you guys handle all of this day to day? I imagine your line of work must take a toll. It can't be easy, always in the middle of something so intense."

Jane's guard went up instantly. She forced herself to smile politely, keeping her responses measured. "You get used to it."

"Ah. Suppression. It's a common attribute in intelligent women. Always having to mind her P's and Q's so she can be respected by the men." She took another step closer, her eyes lingering just a moment too long on Jane's hand—specifically, on her engagement ring. The professor smiled, a slight curve of her lips that felt more pointed than friendly. "Married or engaged?" Casey said, her voice as smooth as ever.

Jane's eyes flicked down to her finger. "Uh, engaged."

"Congratulations. When's the big day?"

Jane's chest tightened slightly. She hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, and the casual question about her engagement caught her off guard. "Uh, we haven't set a date yet," Jane replied, keeping her tone as neutral as possible, though she could feel herself becoming more guarded.

"Ah," Casey said with a knowing nod, her gaze still fixed on Jane's ring for a moment before shifting back to her face. "I was engaged once, too. Years ago. But… work got in the way, as it often does in fields that require such sacrifice, doesn't it? I hope your husband knows what he's getting into."

Jane didn't respond right away. Something about the way Casey spoke, the ease with which she shifted from work to something so intimate, put Jane on edge. It wasn't the content of the conversation so much as the feeling behind it—like Casey was testing her, probing for something beneath the surface.

Jane swallowed, her voice steady but a bit cooler now. "We make it work."

Casey's smile widened slightly, though it never lost that undercurrent of curiosity. "It must be difficult for your fiancée, though. Losing you to work so often, especially with a job as demanding as yours. I imagine it requires a lot of understanding on his part."

The words hit Jane like a soft but deliberate push, and for the first time, she found herself truly unsettled. Casey wasn't just making idle conversation; there was a deliberate turn here, a shift that felt personal. Too personal.

Jane's eyes flicked to Casey's face, her own expression carefully guarded. "She understands. She knows the job comes with sacrifices."

Casey nodded slowly, her gaze intense but not unkind. "Of course, I'm sure she does. It's rare to find someone who can handle that."

She wasn't sure what Casey's angle was, but it felt like she was pushing, looking for a reaction. Testing the waters. Jane wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

For a brief moment, their eyes met—Jane's guarded and cautious, Casey's still holding that strange, knowing intensity. And then, as if the moment had never happened, Casey's smile softened, and she took a step back.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer, Detective," Casey said, her voice once again perfectly composed. "I'm sure you have more important things to get to."

Jane nodded stiffly. "Right. Thanks for your time."

As Jane stepped out of the lecture hall and into the cool air, her mind was still spinning from her conversation with Dr. Hughes—Casey. The personal turn their conversation had taken, the subtle yet probing questions, had left Jane unsettled. She couldn't shake the feeling that Casey was hiding something, but whether it was relevant to the case or just part of the enigmatic woman's nature, she couldn't tell.

Before she had time to fully process her thoughts, she spotted Frost jogging up to meet her, his coat flapping as he hurried over.

"Did you get anything out of them?" Frost asked, slightly out of breath, though his tone was tinged with hope.

Jane shook her head, her expression tight. "Not really. I can't tell if she's hiding something or if she's just that good at dodging questions. She's definitely smart, and she plays her cards close. But as for what she knows about Ava and Anna switching places… if she does know, she's not giving it up."

Frost nodded, taking in Jane's frustration. "Yeah, I got a similar vibe from the girl I spoke with. Reluctant, didn't want to say much at first, but she did drop something interesting."

Jane's eyebrow arched. "What'd she say?"

Frost glanced around, making sure they were alone before leaning in slightly. "She gave me a name. Hamilton Kilgore."

Jane's face immediately hardened with recognition. "Hamilton Kilgore? Shanice Ellis's boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Frost confirmed. "Apparently, he works at the university library with Shanice. The girl said he's just come back to work after some vacation."

Jane's mind clicked into gear. "That's more than a coincidence. Shanice is wrapped up in this somehow, and if Kilgore's back, we need to talk to him. He might know something about what's been going on with Ava and Anna."

Frost nodded, his eyes steady. "Sounds like the library's our next stop."

Jane pulled her jacket tighter around her as the chill in the air set in. She glanced back at the building, thinking once more about Casey Hughes and the strange tension that hung between them. But whatever was going on with the professor, Hamilton Kilgore was the lead they needed to follow now.