HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 39
Warnings: This Chapter: None. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Thanks to Lia (Cheebles) who is so patient with me!
JD left for work early and Caitlin woke alone in her own bed. She reached for her notebook and was relieved to find no unexpected entry. Her attention caught suddenly on black ink on her hand. Her breath caught in her throat and she ran into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror.
The words covered her arms and legs, her stomach and chest, in her own neat handwriting ‘Remember’ and ‘J2‘. She took a shower and scrubbed until, flesh pink and raw, they were gone.
***
Jensen propped himself on one elbow as he watched Jared get dressed.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“It’s one day Jen. If I don’t go I can kiss goodbye to any chance I have of getting that contract and I am not going to do that.”
“It’s Baltimore.”
“Which isn’t here. Here is where you said your guy was, right?”
“Did you even listen to anything I explained to you?”
“Baltimore. I get it, but let’s get real Jensen. There is no way your guy could know about this trip in advance. You, me, Caitlin, Doc Carver and JD know about this trip. That’s it. Nobody shares information on bids, it’s bad business practice. The interview is real and you can check for yourself, use whatever police resources you need. A few hours at each airport, a couple of hours at site and a couple of hours shopping, a visit with Santa and his elves. That’s it. C’mon!”
“It feels wrong.”
Jared sat next to Jensen, cupped his chin in his hand, dipped in and kissed sweetly and light. “I know what you went through, I’m not saying I understand but I can’t imagine it is ever going to feel right. What I can’t do is stand around waiting for something that may never happen while my business gets ruined. I won’t do it. You're the one who reminded me to argue for what I want, remember? Now you want me to back down for you. No. It‘s not going to happen.”
“How are you going to keep Caitlin safe?”
Jared huffed. “As I understand it, we’re in no more danger there than here. I'm not stopping with my life. I'll continue to work wherever I need to and I will shop if I need to shop. We’ll be fine, better even, because it’s not here. Caitlin will cope, she’s not how she used to be.”
“That’s another thing. She’s changed. She’s barely recognizable Jay.” Jensen picked at the soft linen sheets. “Do you find anything weird about that?”
Jared laughed “Everything is a bit weird with Caitlin, but no, this is all good. Now, are you gonna to get out of bed and walk these dogs with me? Apparently I need a bodyguard and I’d rather like it to be your body.” He slipped a comfortable grey hoodie on.
“It’s cozy here. You could come back to bed with me. He fluttered his eyelashes and gave Jared a trademark dirty smirk.”
“Oh that’s it! You had your coffee, it’s time to get the big guns out!” Jared opened the bedroom door and two bundles of furry energy leaped heavily on Jensen, tails wagging, licking and snuffling at his face.
“Nooo. Dude that is unfair. Misha was right. You are stubborn.”
He showered, dressed and checked the clip on his gun before joining Jared to walk his exuberant hounds. The sunrise was grey and damp, clouds rolling heavily on the horizon. It smelled of wet leaves and cold engines, rainwater oozed under every step, the ducks were hiding and Secret stayed deep in hibernation. Jensen walked, his side pressed to Jared’s, his hand entwined with the huge warm palm but his attention caught on each stranger and every unexpected movement.
Jared squeezed his hand reassuringly and rambled on about weather, dog training and anything other than his trip or Jensen’s work. He paused to smile at strangers with a cheery “Good Morning!” as if nothing had changed. Jensen wondered at the inner strength of this man who was able to continue spreading warmth to others, even when his own life was threatened. He squeezed tightly around his waist and stopped there on the sidewalk, to draw him in for a very public kiss. Jared wrapped his arms around him, warm and protective and he opened his eyes to look into the soft, flecked, hazel eyes. They drew apart with a faint hint of flush on their cheeks as a cyclist swerved past them, giving a loud wolf whistle. “You’re incredible.” murmured Jensen.
***
They ate breakfast at Harvelle's, their legs tangling under the table. Ellen served hot pancakes and perfect coffee and pretended to be shocked at Jensen's early morning appearance.
A car was sent to collect Jensen. He watched as Jared locked the door after him. “Go!” mouthed Jared and blew him a kiss. He installed himself in front of his computer and scratched his head as he worked on his least favorite part of any project, the finances.
“Do you want me to take a look?” Jared jumped at the unexpected voice and looked up from his screen. Caitlin stood at the side of his desk, rubbing at Sadie’s ears.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry.” she looked guiltily at him. “I guess that was bad of me in the circumstances.”
“You take a look, I’m nipping to Harvelles to get a caramel latte. You want anything?”
“Make it two.”
He came back ten minutes later, warming his hands on the black porcelain mugs. “Perks of being neighbors. We get real crockery for take-out. How did you get on?”
“Travel costs?”
“Excuse me.”
“What’s the deal with Jensen then? It’s a heck of a distance to Baltimore Jay and I don’t see any travel costs or accommodation figured-in. Are you planning on moving? Have you considered him at all or do you want him to be gone from your life by the time this starts?” Her gaze was boring into him. Fleetingly, her expression seemed to darken and Jared thought she was going to say something else, but she continued to look at him, brown eyes questioning.
“No! I just really want this. One way or another I’ll find a solution and I’ll absorb the costs. If not, call it a loss-leader. I intend to be with Jensen till I’m old and grey.”
“Wow. That’s intense. OK. Good. Other than that you have two typos, I highlighted them.”
“So, you’ve done this before.”
“What?”
“Bids. You’re not even fazed Caitlin. You knew exactly what you were looking at. Try to remember something, anything. Bids, tenders, pricing.”
She sipped her coffee, her brows furrowed. Her head was starting to ache and there was a fog in front of her eyes.
She is standing near a dilapidated building. Paint is peeling from the door around a ‘DANGER. NO ENTRY’ sign. Brick fragments mingle with wood debris on the ground, awash with mud. A bulldozer stands, carelessly abandoned, a few meters behind her. Rain drizzles, dripping from the peak of her hard hat and down her high visibility jacket. She is accompanied by a similarly dressed man. He is at least 6’5” and built like a brick outhouse. He advances into her personal space. Another man, smaller, with a weaselly face and soft hands, observes them with an anxious look on his face. She stands straight and looks upward, straining her neck to look the large man in the eye. His voice is thick with threat and intention “Just so we understand each other, there are a lot of ways for a person to come to harm if we don’t see eye to eye. I can be inventive with concrete.”
The smaller man is backing up, scared. She shoots him a reassuring smile and moves so far into the larger man’s space her knee brushes his leg. She speaks incredibly quietly, a soft hushed voice. “Isn’t that just so? You know I spend so much of my life investigating old buildings, I know some fantastic places to hide bodies.” She laughs and continues confidently as he glares down at her “We’re going to get on just fine. We’re all professionals here aren’t we?” She feels on her belt for the sheathed knife she keeps there and clicks on the popper securing the leather holder. It is him that breaks eye contact and steps back first.
She woke up on the floor, Jared cradling her head. “You fainted.”
“I remembered something. I think I work with old buildings. I think I upset someone big, powerful. I threatened him. Why would I do that?” She pulled herself onto the couch and grabbed her coffee back from Jared. She struggled to keep her calm façade with Jared. The memory was filled with threat and foreboding and her own remembered behavior shocked her.
“Can you tell me about it? Do you want to ring the Doc?”
“Jay, I’m fine. It wasn‘t much. I didn‘t remember names or places.”
“We shouldn’t go tomorrow.”
“You will go Jay. So will I. Look, it’s good isn’t it. I’m fine, I’m not freaking out. I had to remember something sometime didn’t I? Maybe I wasn‘t all good. I‘m sort of prepared for that. I can‘t pretend I‘m entirely proud of Jane but I can accept it and get over it.” She unfurled her legs on the couch and put the now empty cup on the floor. “If I don’t feel good, I won’t go, but you are absolutely going. I’ve seen your drawings. That building needs to be built. I’ll write my diary and we’ll take a rain-check, yes?”
Jared nodded reluctantly. She brushed a hand over his cheek as she stood to leave. “I’ll be baking cookies.”
***
Jensen and Misha briefed five officers and set about creating a team area. There was a buzz of low voices and excitement. Dust clouds danced in pools of fluorescent light as little-used equipment was retrieved from locked cupboards. It is a simple fact that young cops will find the prospect of investigating a serial killer to be a thrilling one. Jensen could remember his own reaction, he wasn’t proud of it and couldn’t reconcile his old self with the man broken with the reality of the case. When he first arrived local officers had thought him brusque and offhand but as time wore on most had come to realize that he was simply shy. They treated him with sensitivity and he retained the enclosed office in a quiet corner of the Precinct. Police and FBI made a joint decision that it was time to involve the media and press packages were hastily drawn up. Laing and Painter’s faces would be splashed over local and national news by 5pm. Chad led the main TV coverage and call-center from Texas.
Misha grabbed Jensen’s wheeled chair and pulled it toward him at about 2pm. “Jen, you haven’t stopped for a break today.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m going for coffee and you’re coming with me. You need to ring Jared and warn him this will be on the news.”
That roused him. He reluctantly left his desk and headed to the mess room with Misha. The coffee tasted vile and Jensen felt a warm affection for Sarge as he realized that the coffee that kept him awake on a regular basis came from his own secret stash. He made a mental note to buy a decent coffee maker for the mess room.
“Poetry.” said Misha unexpectedly.
Jensen shook his head, had he missed something?
“We need to talk about something completely unrelated, I vote for poetry. So, favorite poet, poem and reason?”
Jensen chuckled. “Siken.” he said and found himself expanding on the topic as the other detective interrogated him on the subject. They lost themselves for half an hour in conversation and quotations. Jensen found himself with even more respect for the strange man he worked with. He felt oddly refreshed as he returned to his work-space and dialed Jared.
***
Mid-afternoon Laing pulled his cap low on his head, shuffled through the minimal security checks with his fake id and boarded the low budget domestic flight to Baltimore.
***
While baking the second batch of cookies Caitlin stopped to write in her notebook. Two words swirled in her mind, over and again. Roosevelt Asylum. She noticed with a jolt that she hadn’t only written in her book. On the back of her hand, in the same black pen were two characters, J2.
***
Mid-afternoon Sarge presented Jensen with a decent cup of coffee and the news that forensics had taken the Painters’ van into the lab. Shortly after that Misha sat with a flourish on the chair opposite him and made faces until he Jensen’s attention. “So, it’s not Laing and I know you didn’t want to waste time on this, but good news is good news nonetheless.” He grinned an impossibly white smile.
The green-eyed detective sat back, wearily wiping a hand over his face and through his hair. “Good news would be great right now.”
“The Riordan/Matthews aunt died in 2005. Evelyn Matthews inherited properties in Chicago which a realtor manages and rents for her. She inherited property in LA which she sold and she inherited a buttload of money. She inherited a house in Baltimore which is registered as her main residence in the US. She has dual nationality, with a residence in the UK. Oh and she also changed her name.”
“Again.” groaned Jensen.
“Get this though. She changed it to, wait for it, Katherine Elise Riordan.”
“She took her original name back?”
“The one name we weren’t looking for eh?”
“Where is she now?”
“I’m trying to verify it but there is a UK registered company which sounds interesting. Kate Riordan, Safety Solutions, offers services to the construction industry in both the UK and US. There’s even a website. It hasn’t been updated since January. My emails are bouncing back with the text that she is out of the office and will reply to messages as soon as is practicable.”
“If she was missing, surely her staff would have noticed by now.”
“As far as I can tell Kate Riordan, Safety Solutions, is a one woman enterprise.” He handed Jensen a slip of paper. “You can give the information to Jared and Caitlin if you think it helps.”
The Texan detective folded the paper and looked at it thoughtfully. “What if that’s why she did it?”
“Did what?”
“The cuts. All her family Misha, all of them, died with them. She took her own name back, it was important to her. What if she did it to remember her name?”
“If she did, it didn’t work” the blue-eyed man commented wryly “and it doesn’t explain how she came to be here with the injuries she had.”
“Well. Right now, you’re doing better than me. I have nothing. No more leads. It’s a dead end.”
“You’re exhausted Jen. I’m surprised you can still see your screen. Go home, let the media do their part and come back refreshed in the morning. If it helps, Baltimore PD have promised they will take a special interest in Jared and Caitlin tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” he slipped his jacket on and let Sarge find a plain clothes officer to drive him to Madison House. He tried to ignore the fact that the place he associated with the word home was still Madison House. He had barely looked into his own apartment in days. He allowed himself a wry smile that Misha continued to refer to Madison House as Jensen’s home too. The man was a goddamn mind-reader.
Continued in part 40 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/11825.html
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Thanks to Lia (Cheebles) who is so patient with me!
JD left for work early and Caitlin woke alone in her own bed. She reached for her notebook and was relieved to find no unexpected entry. Her attention caught suddenly on black ink on her hand. Her breath caught in her throat and she ran into the bathroom to look at herself in the mirror.
The words covered her arms and legs, her stomach and chest, in her own neat handwriting ‘Remember’ and ‘J2‘. She took a shower and scrubbed until, flesh pink and raw, they were gone.
***
Jensen propped himself on one elbow as he watched Jared get dressed.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“It’s one day Jen. If I don’t go I can kiss goodbye to any chance I have of getting that contract and I am not going to do that.”
“It’s Baltimore.”
“Which isn’t here. Here is where you said your guy was, right?”
“Did you even listen to anything I explained to you?”
“Baltimore. I get it, but let’s get real Jensen. There is no way your guy could know about this trip in advance. You, me, Caitlin, Doc Carver and JD know about this trip. That’s it. Nobody shares information on bids, it’s bad business practice. The interview is real and you can check for yourself, use whatever police resources you need. A few hours at each airport, a couple of hours at site and a couple of hours shopping, a visit with Santa and his elves. That’s it. C’mon!”
“It feels wrong.”
Jared sat next to Jensen, cupped his chin in his hand, dipped in and kissed sweetly and light. “I know what you went through, I’m not saying I understand but I can’t imagine it is ever going to feel right. What I can’t do is stand around waiting for something that may never happen while my business gets ruined. I won’t do it. You're the one who reminded me to argue for what I want, remember? Now you want me to back down for you. No. It‘s not going to happen.”
“How are you going to keep Caitlin safe?”
Jared huffed. “As I understand it, we’re in no more danger there than here. I'm not stopping with my life. I'll continue to work wherever I need to and I will shop if I need to shop. We’ll be fine, better even, because it’s not here. Caitlin will cope, she’s not how she used to be.”
“That’s another thing. She’s changed. She’s barely recognizable Jay.” Jensen picked at the soft linen sheets. “Do you find anything weird about that?”
Jared laughed “Everything is a bit weird with Caitlin, but no, this is all good. Now, are you gonna to get out of bed and walk these dogs with me? Apparently I need a bodyguard and I’d rather like it to be your body.” He slipped a comfortable grey hoodie on.
“It’s cozy here. You could come back to bed with me. He fluttered his eyelashes and gave Jared a trademark dirty smirk.”
“Oh that’s it! You had your coffee, it’s time to get the big guns out!” Jared opened the bedroom door and two bundles of furry energy leaped heavily on Jensen, tails wagging, licking and snuffling at his face.
“Nooo. Dude that is unfair. Misha was right. You are stubborn.”
He showered, dressed and checked the clip on his gun before joining Jared to walk his exuberant hounds. The sunrise was grey and damp, clouds rolling heavily on the horizon. It smelled of wet leaves and cold engines, rainwater oozed under every step, the ducks were hiding and Secret stayed deep in hibernation. Jensen walked, his side pressed to Jared’s, his hand entwined with the huge warm palm but his attention caught on each stranger and every unexpected movement.
Jared squeezed his hand reassuringly and rambled on about weather, dog training and anything other than his trip or Jensen’s work. He paused to smile at strangers with a cheery “Good Morning!” as if nothing had changed. Jensen wondered at the inner strength of this man who was able to continue spreading warmth to others, even when his own life was threatened. He squeezed tightly around his waist and stopped there on the sidewalk, to draw him in for a very public kiss. Jared wrapped his arms around him, warm and protective and he opened his eyes to look into the soft, flecked, hazel eyes. They drew apart with a faint hint of flush on their cheeks as a cyclist swerved past them, giving a loud wolf whistle. “You’re incredible.” murmured Jensen.
***
They ate breakfast at Harvelle's, their legs tangling under the table. Ellen served hot pancakes and perfect coffee and pretended to be shocked at Jensen's early morning appearance.
A car was sent to collect Jensen. He watched as Jared locked the door after him. “Go!” mouthed Jared and blew him a kiss. He installed himself in front of his computer and scratched his head as he worked on his least favorite part of any project, the finances.
“Do you want me to take a look?” Jared jumped at the unexpected voice and looked up from his screen. Caitlin stood at the side of his desk, rubbing at Sadie’s ears.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry.” she looked guiltily at him. “I guess that was bad of me in the circumstances.”
“You take a look, I’m nipping to Harvelles to get a caramel latte. You want anything?”
“Make it two.”
He came back ten minutes later, warming his hands on the black porcelain mugs. “Perks of being neighbors. We get real crockery for take-out. How did you get on?”
“Travel costs?”
“Excuse me.”
“What’s the deal with Jensen then? It’s a heck of a distance to Baltimore Jay and I don’t see any travel costs or accommodation figured-in. Are you planning on moving? Have you considered him at all or do you want him to be gone from your life by the time this starts?” Her gaze was boring into him. Fleetingly, her expression seemed to darken and Jared thought she was going to say something else, but she continued to look at him, brown eyes questioning.
“No! I just really want this. One way or another I’ll find a solution and I’ll absorb the costs. If not, call it a loss-leader. I intend to be with Jensen till I’m old and grey.”
“Wow. That’s intense. OK. Good. Other than that you have two typos, I highlighted them.”
“So, you’ve done this before.”
“What?”
“Bids. You’re not even fazed Caitlin. You knew exactly what you were looking at. Try to remember something, anything. Bids, tenders, pricing.”
She sipped her coffee, her brows furrowed. Her head was starting to ache and there was a fog in front of her eyes.
She is standing near a dilapidated building. Paint is peeling from the door around a ‘DANGER. NO ENTRY’ sign. Brick fragments mingle with wood debris on the ground, awash with mud. A bulldozer stands, carelessly abandoned, a few meters behind her. Rain drizzles, dripping from the peak of her hard hat and down her high visibility jacket. She is accompanied by a similarly dressed man. He is at least 6’5” and built like a brick outhouse. He advances into her personal space. Another man, smaller, with a weaselly face and soft hands, observes them with an anxious look on his face. She stands straight and looks upward, straining her neck to look the large man in the eye. His voice is thick with threat and intention “Just so we understand each other, there are a lot of ways for a person to come to harm if we don’t see eye to eye. I can be inventive with concrete.”
The smaller man is backing up, scared. She shoots him a reassuring smile and moves so far into the larger man’s space her knee brushes his leg. She speaks incredibly quietly, a soft hushed voice. “Isn’t that just so? You know I spend so much of my life investigating old buildings, I know some fantastic places to hide bodies.” She laughs and continues confidently as he glares down at her “We’re going to get on just fine. We’re all professionals here aren’t we?” She feels on her belt for the sheathed knife she keeps there and clicks on the popper securing the leather holder. It is him that breaks eye contact and steps back first.
She woke up on the floor, Jared cradling her head. “You fainted.”
“I remembered something. I think I work with old buildings. I think I upset someone big, powerful. I threatened him. Why would I do that?” She pulled herself onto the couch and grabbed her coffee back from Jared. She struggled to keep her calm façade with Jared. The memory was filled with threat and foreboding and her own remembered behavior shocked her.
“Can you tell me about it? Do you want to ring the Doc?”
“Jay, I’m fine. It wasn‘t much. I didn‘t remember names or places.”
“We shouldn’t go tomorrow.”
“You will go Jay. So will I. Look, it’s good isn’t it. I’m fine, I’m not freaking out. I had to remember something sometime didn’t I? Maybe I wasn‘t all good. I‘m sort of prepared for that. I can‘t pretend I‘m entirely proud of Jane but I can accept it and get over it.” She unfurled her legs on the couch and put the now empty cup on the floor. “If I don’t feel good, I won’t go, but you are absolutely going. I’ve seen your drawings. That building needs to be built. I’ll write my diary and we’ll take a rain-check, yes?”
Jared nodded reluctantly. She brushed a hand over his cheek as she stood to leave. “I’ll be baking cookies.”
***
Jensen and Misha briefed five officers and set about creating a team area. There was a buzz of low voices and excitement. Dust clouds danced in pools of fluorescent light as little-used equipment was retrieved from locked cupboards. It is a simple fact that young cops will find the prospect of investigating a serial killer to be a thrilling one. Jensen could remember his own reaction, he wasn’t proud of it and couldn’t reconcile his old self with the man broken with the reality of the case. When he first arrived local officers had thought him brusque and offhand but as time wore on most had come to realize that he was simply shy. They treated him with sensitivity and he retained the enclosed office in a quiet corner of the Precinct. Police and FBI made a joint decision that it was time to involve the media and press packages were hastily drawn up. Laing and Painter’s faces would be splashed over local and national news by 5pm. Chad led the main TV coverage and call-center from Texas.
Misha grabbed Jensen’s wheeled chair and pulled it toward him at about 2pm. “Jen, you haven’t stopped for a break today.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m going for coffee and you’re coming with me. You need to ring Jared and warn him this will be on the news.”
That roused him. He reluctantly left his desk and headed to the mess room with Misha. The coffee tasted vile and Jensen felt a warm affection for Sarge as he realized that the coffee that kept him awake on a regular basis came from his own secret stash. He made a mental note to buy a decent coffee maker for the mess room.
“Poetry.” said Misha unexpectedly.
Jensen shook his head, had he missed something?
“We need to talk about something completely unrelated, I vote for poetry. So, favorite poet, poem and reason?”
Jensen chuckled. “Siken.” he said and found himself expanding on the topic as the other detective interrogated him on the subject. They lost themselves for half an hour in conversation and quotations. Jensen found himself with even more respect for the strange man he worked with. He felt oddly refreshed as he returned to his work-space and dialed Jared.
***
Mid-afternoon Laing pulled his cap low on his head, shuffled through the minimal security checks with his fake id and boarded the low budget domestic flight to Baltimore.
***
While baking the second batch of cookies Caitlin stopped to write in her notebook. Two words swirled in her mind, over and again. Roosevelt Asylum. She noticed with a jolt that she hadn’t only written in her book. On the back of her hand, in the same black pen were two characters, J2.
***
Mid-afternoon Sarge presented Jensen with a decent cup of coffee and the news that forensics had taken the Painters’ van into the lab. Shortly after that Misha sat with a flourish on the chair opposite him and made faces until he Jensen’s attention. “So, it’s not Laing and I know you didn’t want to waste time on this, but good news is good news nonetheless.” He grinned an impossibly white smile.
The green-eyed detective sat back, wearily wiping a hand over his face and through his hair. “Good news would be great right now.”
“The Riordan/Matthews aunt died in 2005. Evelyn Matthews inherited properties in Chicago which a realtor manages and rents for her. She inherited property in LA which she sold and she inherited a buttload of money. She inherited a house in Baltimore which is registered as her main residence in the US. She has dual nationality, with a residence in the UK. Oh and she also changed her name.”
“Again.” groaned Jensen.
“Get this though. She changed it to, wait for it, Katherine Elise Riordan.”
“She took her original name back?”
“The one name we weren’t looking for eh?”
“Where is she now?”
“I’m trying to verify it but there is a UK registered company which sounds interesting. Kate Riordan, Safety Solutions, offers services to the construction industry in both the UK and US. There’s even a website. It hasn’t been updated since January. My emails are bouncing back with the text that she is out of the office and will reply to messages as soon as is practicable.”
“If she was missing, surely her staff would have noticed by now.”
“As far as I can tell Kate Riordan, Safety Solutions, is a one woman enterprise.” He handed Jensen a slip of paper. “You can give the information to Jared and Caitlin if you think it helps.”
The Texan detective folded the paper and looked at it thoughtfully. “What if that’s why she did it?”
“Did what?”
“The cuts. All her family Misha, all of them, died with them. She took her own name back, it was important to her. What if she did it to remember her name?”
“If she did, it didn’t work” the blue-eyed man commented wryly “and it doesn’t explain how she came to be here with the injuries she had.”
“Well. Right now, you’re doing better than me. I have nothing. No more leads. It’s a dead end.”
“You’re exhausted Jen. I’m surprised you can still see your screen. Go home, let the media do their part and come back refreshed in the morning. If it helps, Baltimore PD have promised they will take a special interest in Jared and Caitlin tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” he slipped his jacket on and let Sarge find a plain clothes officer to drive him to Madison House. He tried to ignore the fact that the place he associated with the word home was still Madison House. He had barely looked into his own apartment in days. He allowed himself a wry smile that Misha continued to refer to Madison House as Jensen’s home too. The man was a goddamn mind-reader.
Continued in part 40 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/11825.html