(Un)masked
Chapter 2. Rowing in the same direction
With a tense, overly controlled movement, Isobel opened the door to her house and let Jubal in. Stepping inside as well, she closed the door behind him, shutting out the leaden drizzle the mist turned into as the sun set.
She didn't say a word the whole way there. It was obvious she was angry. Leaving her coat and handbag on the coat rack in the entrance hall, Isobel disappeared down the hallway, leaving Jubal standing there.
With a raspy sigh, he set down the duffel bag he filled with the clothes and toiletries he kept in his locker at 26 Fed. He wouldn't leave Isobel's side, not even to go home to get his things.
He took off his jacket covered in tiny raindrops, and checked the app Ian installed on his phone. The analyst put it on both of their devices, to keep them informed.
They knew the killer would hack into his victims' security systems to stalk them. The monitoring software Ian provided would alert them if there was an intrusion into the home surveillance system and they were being watched. Outside, in an undercover van, their agents monitored the camera footage, ready to intervene immediately if necessary.
The phone had no notifications, meaning the killer was not connected.
"Isobel," he called to her.
She, changing clothes in her bedroom, did not answer.
After a while, Jubal could not resist and insisted. "Come on, now you've stopped talking to me?" he asked, annoyed.
Isobel left her room dressed in comfortable clothes -soft knit pants and a loose sweater- and walked into the kitchen without even stopping to look at him. He followed her.
There, Isobel was opening and closing the cabinets with somewhat jerky movements. When she located the teapot on one of the high shelves, she stood on tiptoes, stretching to reach it. Jubal hurried over and grabbed the teapot for her.
Lips slightly pressed, Isobel glared at him in such a way he froze.
"You're in the way," she said dryly, snatching the teapot from his hands.
"Sorry," Jubal apologized humbly. "I was... I was just trying to help..."
"If you wanted to help, you should have stayed out of this." Isobel didn't raise her voice, she just sounded cold and hard.
After putting the kettle on to heat, Isobel turned to look at him again, her face almost completely expressionless, aware their agents were watching.
"Is this how things are going to be then?" he snapped, growing more and more irritated.
"You wouldn't expect me to be happy with your behavior." Her tone was openly hostile, though.
Fortunately, the security system had no audio, or the conversation would have been far more embarrassing. Neither of them wanted their agents to know how bad things were between them or Jubal's absence was due to her suspending him from work and pay...
"Look, I'm sorry I stepped on your authority like this, Isobel," Jubal hastened to reply. "But if we want to catch this bastard, we have to be able to at least talk to each other."
Isobel barely controlled an outburst of rage. "Will you stop downplaying your actions and their consequences?" she said in a hoarse voice. "It infuriates me almost more than your foul play."
Lowering his head Jubal rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. He couldn't deny he knew where this came from. He sighed dejectedly.
"I'm sorry."
Him at least sounding actually repentant this time calmed Isobel slightly.
Anyway, even though Jubal screwing her over again infuriated her, the fact he skipped the chain of command was, paradoxically, the least of it. Her mind was reliving the couples' crimes, how the killer slowly slayed the two husbands. The way Jubal was putting himself at risk for nothing was getting on her nerves. Everything shaking her so much, made it even worse.
"Putting yourself in danger is stupid, Jubal."
He raised his face, frowning. "The same stupidity as yours."
Isobel's gaze on Jubal became implacable. "I don't need a babysitter. Don't you trust my abilities, either?"
Jubal acknowledged the well-aimed blow to the very heart. If he didn't want to tell Isobel about Tyler at the time, it wasn't because he didn't trust her, but partly because he was ashamed of himself, and mostly because he didn't want her tainted by all of it.
She was not able to see it and suspended him anyway, which really pissed him off at the moment. To the point, he didn't understand what a huge mistake it was to not tell her in the first place.
Bitterness remained until he talked to Tyler later at night. Then Jubal realized he was being as ungrateful to Isobel as his son was to him. The undeniable fact was, because of him, she came under fire as well and even worse. He hadn't found yet the courage or the right moment, or both, to explain all of this and apologize properly.
Who was he kidding. If he didn't do it yet, it was because he feared she wouldn't forgive him. And how could she? He kept giving her reasons against it.
Isobel waited for an answer with a raised eyebrow.
"I-I trust you implicitly..." Jubal struggled for words. I'm just terrified something will happen to you. He didn't dare say it, though. He had no right. Now less than ever.
"There was no need for us both to take the risk," Isobel asserted vehemently, but keeping her face impassive.
Jubal snorted, frustrated. He was good at keeping himself under control, but not as good as she was, especially where Isobel was concerned. He never was.
"Well, I think there is," he faced her, spreading his hands. "I think we make a effing good team. I think together we can do a lot better."
This left Isobel speechless. Despite the broken trust between them, she couldn't help but agree with Jubal, just as she couldn't help how hard it made her heart pound. But a part of her fiercely resisted to admit either the one or the other.
She was still really mad at him. So much, she wanted to yell at him. However, it was true they were a great team. They used to be, at least. Were they still...? It pained Isobel to think she wasn't so sure anymore.
In any case, they would accomplish nothing if they didn't row in the same direction. Making an effort, she appealed to her more practical sense. "All right. Once in this situation, we'd better work together," she sternly conceded, still irritated. "Go change. You're getting my floor wet. I'll make some tea."
Jubal blinked. He prepared himself for a much, much tougher discussion. Actually, part of him was very disappointed it wasn't. So much was left unsaid...
"Mmmh... Okay," he muttered, "I'll... I'll be right back."
He grabbed his bag and went into the guest bathroom.
When Jubal returned in sweatpants and a T-shirt, Isobel was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her tea. She quietly poured a cup for him. Jubal took a sit next to her. Minutes passed as they drank slowly.
"So… what's the plan?" he asked, cautiously.
"Oh, now you're asking my opinion?" she replied without looking at him, scathing.
Jubal grimaced but knew he deserved such a jab.
He glanced sideways at her. Isobel's expression was thoughtful. He barely restrained himself from asking her what was on her mind.
"Maybe we should start thinking about what to have for dinner," he said, not knowing what other topic of conversation he could come up with. "I can cook something, if you let me..."
She was slow to answer, and Jubal began to think Isobel was so lost in her thoughts she did not hear him. Or maybe she was simply blowing him off...
"I think we should cook something together," she replied then. "This way, if the guy comes online, he won't see us ignoring one another silently," she concluded, with a somewhat wry smile.
Raising his eyebrows, Jubal chuckled under his breath.
"I think... it's a very good idea. What shall we cook?"
·~·~·
They decided on pasta with a vegetable sauce. Together they chopped carrots, onions, peppers, zucchini and tomatoes. Jubal finished his part first and put a pan on the fire. While the onions were stir frying, he heated the water for the pasta: some tagliatelle nests.
Pushing aside her irritation for the moment, Isobel told him the story of the simple recipe, which her mother invented for her when she was in college complaining about the campus food. Meanwhile, Jubal basked in the comfortable synchronicity in which they worked, in the pleasant familiarity. He could get used to this...
Then, their phones made a distinctive sound. Jubal checked his. Isobel was still cutting vegetables.
"He's connected," he said without losing his cool, barely moving his lips.
Isobel expertly controlled the adrenaline rush. Until this moment, she doubted it would work.
With more difficulty, she had to fight the reality of her home and her privacy being violated once again. All those weeks of dealing with the stalker on her own had slowly taken their toll. Her nerves were on edge.
She managed to hide the churning in her stomach. Jubal gently took her by the elbow, offering her a reassuring smile, and Isobel knew he noticed nonetheless. The way his gesture succeeded in calming her, touched her to the core. She had to admit she missed being able to count on him. Isobel focused on the carrot she was cutting so as not to give herself away.
"You should bring more clothes, more of your things, here," she said, making an effort to adopt her role, "it would save you trips home."
The stalker couldn't hear what she was saying, but Isobel needed something to lean on to give the impression of closeness.
Undercover work was no stranger to her; she triggered into this mode in a matter of milliseconds. However, this time it was different. She was not assuming another identity, a woman with another name and another past, another personality. This time she was Isobel. Herself, but pretending something not part of her life. Something, moreover, she wasn't sure she wanted only to pretend.
It took Jubal only a second to realize Isobel was working the cover.
"Are you sure?" He approached her naturally, getting into the game. "I don't want to be even more invasive..."
Something inside him felt confused at how close this feeling was to him. He still feared Isobel would never forgive him.
She turned her head to look at him, smiling in a knowing way. "Of course," she replied with sparkling eyes, and continued cutting.
The warmth of her gaze as well as knowing it was all pretend, decidedly rattled Jubal in a bittersweet way, but he rode the emotional wave to give a contented sigh. He hesitated for a second and moved behind Isobel, embracing her from behind.
"Wha-? What are you doing?" she whispered through her teeth, suddenly tense.
Jubal fought the sting of rejection, and pulled her gently against him as he buried his face in her neck.
"You want to catch this guy?" Jubal murmured, his lips almost brushing her skin as he spoke. "We need to make him nervous."
Enveloped in his warmth, the caress of his breath made Isobel shiver. Feeling her cheeks burn, she forced herself to look naturally relaxed in his arms, even though the last thing she was getting from the close proximity of Jubal's body and mouth was relax. And this was with Jubal only pretending to kiss her neck, moving his head but not actually touching her. Somehow, the fact he actually wasn't doing it, triggered Isobel's craving.
Thankfully, the stir-fry needed attention and Jubal pulled away before Isobel couldn't help doing something inconvenient. Pretending to be mired in a more comfortable silence than it actually was, Isobel set about preparing the sauce while Jubal busied himself with the pasta.
~·~·~·~
