Fic: "Your Horoscope For Today" (SG-1, Sam/Carolyn)
Title: Your Horoscope For Today
Author: amatia
Recipient: dirty_diana
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1 (slight crossover with Stargate: Atlantis)
Pairing: Sam Carter/Carolyn Lam
Rating: R
Word count: ~6,400
Disclaimer: I don't even remember who holds the copyright on these characters, but they're not mine and I make no money off them.
Summary: Detective Sam Carter, newly assigned to her father's last case, meets Medical Examiner Carolyn Lam. (It's a crime AU.)
1. Saturday, November 11th, 2007. Today's moon phase: waxing crescent
The first thing Carolyn noticed was that Detective Samantha Carter looked like the victims. Green Thumb would love her, she thought, then winced at her use of the nickname the papers had given the killer. They always had to have a nickname - catchy headlines sold more copies - but Carolyn thought this one sounded more like a gardening expert on the radio than a serial murderer. Daniel Jackson at the Observer had been the first to use it, after an "anonymous source " had let it slip that the killer always left a freshly-cut rose beside each victim, and if she didn't like the majority of his reporting, Carolyn could have strangled him herself.
The second thing she noticed as she stood up was that the Detective looked like she'd gotten the call in the middle of a date. She was wearing a low-cut black dress that hugged all her curves, patent leather heels and hammered silver jewelry that looked expensive. The purse she was clutching was definitely not made for work. Pink nail polish sparkled as she held a hand out to Carolyn. "Sam Carter. I've been assigned to this case."
So this was Jacob's daughter, at last. What idiot decided giving her the case that killed her father was a good idea? "Carolyn Lam. I'm the on-call ME."
"I know."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Carolyn murmured. "And I'm sorry you had to inherit this case."
"Yeah, thanks," Carter said, and the look on her face clearly expressed that she didn't want to talk about it. She gestured at the covered body a few feet away. "So what have we got?"
Carolyn folded her arms. "Just like the others. Female, mid-30's, strangled from behind with what appears to be a scarf, just like the others. Based on temperature, I'd say she's only been dead around three hours. The kid over there talking to Officer Harriman found the body while he was riding his bike."
"He's getting bolder," Carter replied.
The last four hadn't been found until twelve hours after death at the earliest, and there'd been barely enough left of the first victim to identify her. Carolyn nodded. "Yeah. He is."
*
Sam could feel Carolyn's eyes on her as she drove from the crime scene to the medical examiner's office. She felt like everyone had been looking at her lately, all of them with that same apologetic expression. They all wanted to say they were sorry just as Carolyn had done earlier, and while sorry was all well and good, it didn't bring her dad back, and it didn't make her feel much better. She waited for the inevitable "are you okay?" but Carolyn didn't speak.
She realized they were only a few blocks from her apartment. "Do you mind if I stop and change?" she asked. "My place is just around the corner."
"That's fine."
Sam noticed as Carolyn zipped her coat a little higher. The adrenaline of the crime scene was wearing off for her as well, and there was no way she was spending any longer in a dress and nylons. It was pretty stupid of you to go there in this getup anyway, she told herself as she guided the SUV to the curb. "You can come up if you want."
"Thanks," said Carolyn with a nod, and they got out of the car.
Inside the apartment, Sam gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat," she said, kicking off the heels as she spoke. "I'll just be a minute."
She removed her earrings as she walked down the hall. She hadn't anticipated being assigned to this case, even though she'd asked for it, and when Cam had said he'd take her out to dinner to get her mind off things, the last call she'd been expecting was one saying there'd been another murder. I should have figured it, though, she thought as she pulled the dress over her head. Green Thumb had struck each waxing crescent and waning crescent for the last two months, when there was only the tiniest visible sliver of moon, but he'd missed October 14th.
Sam stripped off the nylons and stuck her head out the door. "Carolyn," she called.
*
Carolyn could see Sam's face, half in shadow, and the curve of one naked shoulder as Sam's head appeared through the doorway. "Yes?"
"Why do you think he skipped the 14th?"
Carolyn shrugged, even though she knew Sam couldn't see it. "Work. Family. Any number of reasons, really."
"But you agree with me that it was unusual for him to miss a day?" Sam continued, and Carolyn saw a flash of bare leg. The woman was gorgeous, she had to admit, with that spiky blonde hair and those sad blue eyes. Not that she was normally attracted to unhappy people, but Sam Carter was so obviously holding it all inside.
"I do," she replied. "Something broke his routine, but there's no way to know yet what it was."
"True," she heard Sam call back from inside the bedroom, and saw the door close.
She looked around the apartment. Family photos in frames were scattered between what looked like deep-space photographs, probably from the Hubble. There were cut lilies in a vase on the counter. Sympathy flowers, she thought. Sam came out of the back in jeans and a sweater. "You like astronomy?" Carolyn asked, gesturing at the pictures.
"It's kind of a side passion," Sam admitted with a smile. "If I hadn't gone to the Academy, I'd probably be trying to get into NASA. Are you ready?"
Carolyn stood up. "Of course."
Sam kept talking as they went down to the car. "I didn't want to spend another minute freezing my ass off in that dress. I hope I didn't screw up your autopsy schedule by stopping."
"You looked very nice in it," Carolyn said, surprising herself. "And, uhm, no. My autopsy schedule's not screwed up." She felt even more tired as she thought about the work that still lay in front of them tonight. "Should we get some coffee? I think I'm going to need it."
*
Why does Jack have to be in Seattle this week? Sam asked herself as she and Carolyn stood in front of the wall-sized bulletin board plastered with victims' photos, newspaper clippings, moon phase printouts, maps, and scribbled notes in her father's handwriting. She thought about calling him, but it was midnight and she knew how cranky he could get without sleep. Jack had been Jacob's partner, and Sam had inherited him along with this case. He knew a hundred times more about it that she'd been able to learn in the last few days. "Okay," she said to Carolyn, "you're my de facto partner for a couple of days while O'Neill is out of town... give me the gory details."
Carolyn raised a quick eyebrow at the partner part and Sam nearly missed it. "Right. All five victims were strangled with either the same scarf or the same type of scarf. Based on the fact that I pulled identical fibers from three of them, I'd say it was the same scarf. He usually doesn't leave much trace behind; the scarf fibers on three, spots of mud from the same source on two, a single strand of hair that was on the second victim. No follicle, so McKay can't get DNA off it."
"No post-mortem mutilation, no sexual assault before or after," Sam murmured, looking at the photograph of #2 alive that the parents had provided. She felt slightly bad referring to them as numbers, not with names, but she had to learn all the details first. "And he obviously has a type."
"Yes. The victims were all within five inches of each other in height, and twenty pounds in weight," Carolyn said, and Sam looked a little closer at the pictures. The girls all looked like her. She suppressed a shiver. "You see it too," she heard Carolyn say softly.
"It's a creepy, I admit."
Carolyn nodded. "I should do the autopsy now. Are you coming?"
Sam didn't really want to; she'd never gotten used to being in the room during the autopsies. "Yeah, let's go."
2. Saturday, November 17th, 2007. Today's moon phase: first quarter.
"Detective Carter," someone was saying from what sounded like far away. "Carter. Carter."
Sam blinked and realized she was half-laying on her desk; she'd fallen asleep in the middle of a large stack of VICAP computer printouts. Landry was standing next to the desk. "Sorry," she said, scrubbing tiredly at her face and running her hands through her hair. "I honestly didn't mean to stay here all night."
"That's what they all say. Come into my office for a minute."
Sam straightened her clothes and followed Landry. He sat down behind his desk and gestured at the chair across from it. "Have a seat," he said and then asked, "You're not having much luck, are you?"
At least he got right to the point, she thought, trying not to yawn. "No, Captain. The lack of trace, or witnesses... well, it might be funny if it wasn't so frustrating."
"So our serial killer's a ghost." He paused to take the lid off his coffee and the smell made her mouth water. "I don't think Jack's going to have much luck with this when he gets back, either. You should know I'm thinking about calling in the FBI, Sam."
"Sir-" she started to protest.
"Not to take over your case," he said hurriedly, and someone knocked on the door. "Come in!" he called.
*
Carolyn saw Sam Carter in the hot seat, looking disheveled and tired, and figured she'd pulled an all-nighter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she said. "I can come back later."
"Nonsense," Landry replied. "You've been putting as much time in on this as Carter, it seems. Sit down."
Carolyn glanced at Sam again, who shrugged. She sat down, sticking her hands in the pocket of her lab coat. "So what's going on?"
"Captain Landry wants to call in the feds," Sam replied, and from the expression on her face, Carolyn assumed this wasn't a good thing. "They like to say they won't take over your investigation, but they do."
"Oh."
"Having them consult on this might help us find a suspect," Landry said firmly. "Sorry, Sam, but the commissioner will be on my ass if I don't do it. I'm calling them this afternoon. Now go get some coffee."
She could tell Sam was about ready to explode as they left the office. "Why don't you go home and change?" she suggested. "I'll see if I can't smooth things over with Dad, maybe get him to hold off for a few more days."
Sam blinked. "Yeah, okay. You know, I almost forgot you're his daughter." She pulled on her coat. "I'll be back in a half an hour."
3. Tuesday, November 20th, 2007. Today's moon phase: waxing gibbous.
There was a guy in a suit moving things around on their bulletin board when Carolyn came into the room Tuesday morning with the forensics head, McKay, right behind her. "Who are you?" she demanded.
He turned and smiled a slightly crooked grin. "John Sheppard, FBI."
"I guess that's one way to find a suspect," McKay murmured over her shoulder.
Carolyn resisted the urge to elbow McKay in his smug face and settled for telling him to shut up instead. She wondered where Sam was. "I don't think Detective Carter is going to appreciate you changing things on her board," she told Sheppard.
He frowned at the pictures and printouts. "Sorry. It makes more sense to me this way."
"Right…" She sat down at the table. McKay made a beeline for the coffeepot.
Sam arrived a few minutes later. "The feds are here, I see," she muttered upon seeing Sheppard. He introduced himself, giving Sam the same goofy smile he'd given Carolyn.
Carolyn decided she didn't like him.
*
Great, Sam thought. The FBI and McKay at once. Not what she'd wanted to deal with right after getting to work. "Sam Carter," she told Sheppard. "My partner Jack O'Neill is in Seattle for another week. I don't know if you'll be meeting him or not."
"I recognize your name and his," Sheppard replied. "Jacob Carter was your father, right?"
"He is my father," Sam said stiffly, feeling her mouth settle into a tight line. "Rodney, where are you with trace?"
McKay set down his coffee. "There is next to no trace. This guy must wrap himself in clingfilm so that he doesn't leave anything behind. The fibers Carolyn pulled off three of the victims are all identical, wool from something knit, probably a winter scarf. Dozens of stores per city, in every state across the country, sells items made from that wool. The color is the most commonly sold color of all the winter clothing items - hats, scarves, gloves. You're not going to track this guy looking for a black wool winter scarf - half the male population of Colorado would be suspects."
"And the mud?" Sheppard asked.
"Common to the local area. There's no good intersection of places it could have come from and places the scarf could have bought."
"Not to mention where the scarf was bought and where the mud came from could be miles from where this guy actually lives," Carolyn added.
"Exactly." McKay took another gulp of coffee. "The hair on the second victim belonged to the first victim. And the rose? A grocery store chain all across the state stocks them. There's three branches in Boulder alone."
Sam groaned, covering her face with her hands. "If he stops now, we'll never catch him," she muttered, and felt Carolyn touch her shoulder.
*
Sam's right, Carolyn sighed to herself. If he doesn't kill again, we'll never be any closer to finding him, and if he strikes again on the next waning crescent, that's one more innocent victim who doesn't deserve what will happen to her. She looked at Sheppard. "Got a profile yet?" she asked.
"Getting there," was his response. "Although at this point, everything I could tell you is probably things you've thought of already." He gestured toward the list pinned up on the bulletin board. Carolyn didn't recognize the handwriting and figured it must be Jacob's.
"Tell us anyway." That was Sam, and her voice was sharp.
Sheppard looked a little perplexed, but started talking. "Any college student with a few criminal justice courses under their belt could tell you that you're looking for a white male. He's probably under forty-five; I'd say you're looking for someone in the age range of your victims, thirty to thirty-seven. Can I ask you a question, Detective Carter?"
"Go ahead."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-five," she answered. "And yes, before you say it, everyone here knows that I fit the killer's type." Carolyn pressed her shoulder gently against Sam's, not knowing how to offer comfort any other way. Sam flashed her a smile before continuing. "I think it's fair to say that normal detective work hasn't gotten anyone very far on this case - not my father, not O'Neill, and definitely not me. So can you help us or not?"
*
Sam waited for an answer, keeping her eyes on Sheppard. He looked over at the bulletin board. "I can help you," he said finally. "But my profile might only help in narrowing down the potential suspect pool."
"I think the commissioner would take anything at this point," Landry interrupted, standing in the doorway of his office. "You've got two weeks before Green Thumb is supposed to kill again, according to his pattern."
"He might be a Son of Sam," Sheppard mused. "The kind that thinks they hear voices telling them to kill. There's a history of that with lunar pattern killers."
McKay set his cup down loudly. "But that doesn't help anyone find him."
"He really knows what he's doing, managing not to leave trace," Sheppard continued as if McKay hadn't even said a word. Sam tried not to smile. "If he was really whacked-out, he wouldn’t think to be that careful."
"Maybe he's doing it to get attention of some kind," Carolyn said from beside Sam.
"A 'fifteen minutes of fame' kind of thing?" McKay asked, and Sam saw Landry roll his eyes in McKay's direction.
Sheppard shook his head. "That's so Law and Order. This guy is more than likely trying to get the attention of a specific person. A lover who left him, or his boss, or his mother, that sort of thing."
"If we could figure out who, we'd move a little closer to finding him," Sam murmured. They all looked at her. "What?"
"Maybe it's you," McKay suggested. "After all, you are his type."
Carolyn spoke before she could, like she was trying to save Sam from having to reply. "Yes, but the first victim could have been the catalyst, even if we didn't uncover anything to suggest she was."
McKay opened his mouth to argue, but his cell phone rang before he could speak. "Damnit, I'm going to be late for court," he muttered. "I'll try one more time to pull some trace when I get back," he told them, and left the room.
4. Saturday, November 24th, 2007. Today's moon phase: full moon.
Sam ran all the way down to Carolyn's office. "There's been another murder," she said, slightly out of breath, her heart pounding. "Come on."
She waited for Carolyn to get her coat and they took off. On the way to the crime scene, lights flashing, she told Carolyn that Sheppard was already there.
"He took the call?" Carolyn asked.
"I think he's taking over," Sam said. Damnit, I told Landry this would happen.
"He's just a consultant. There's no federal jurisdiction here," Carolyn said, sounding confused. Sam shrugged and jammed harder on the gas. "Sam -"
Fuck. "I'm out of my league," she confessed. "I’ve worked murder investigations before but never like this. I should never have asked for this assignment."
"It’s only natural to want to solve your father's last case," Carolyn said in a soft voice.
She wanted to pound the steering wheel. "I should have just left it to Jack."
"You're being too hard on yourself." She put a hand on Sam's wrist.
Sam looked down at it and turned her hand to slide along Carolyn's. "Thanks," she whispered.
Carolyn squeezed her hand and said, "When this is over, I'm taking you out to dinner."
*
Sheppard was waiting when Sam pulled to the curb, McKay behind him. "How'd you get here?" Carolyn asked him as they followed Sheppard and Sam towards the body.
"Rode with Sheppard," he replied, a self-satisfied smile pulling at his mouth.
"And? Is there trace?"
McKay smiled again. One of these days I am really going to punch him in the face, just for the satisfaction of it, Carolyn grumbled to herself. She and Sam crouched down next to the body, and while murder did not normally make Carolyn queasy, this one did. Beside her, Sam was swearing furiously under her breath.
This victim was blonde and fit, just like the others. But unlike the others, her hair had been chopped off, and the effect was an even more striking similarity to the woman next to her. Carolyn glanced up at Sam in horror. "I don't believe this," she breathed.
Sam stood up and walked a few feet away. Carolyn followed. "The FBI can have this damn case," Sam said quietly, and Carolyn was standing close enough to feel that she was shaking. "It was creepy before, the resemblance, but now he's cutting their hair like mine? This can't be for real."
Before Carolyn could say anything, Sheppard stepped up next to Sam. In a low voice, he asked her if she had any reason to believe she was the one the killer was modeling his victims after. "Of course not," she said harshly. "You think I would keep it secret if I did? No one's following me, Sheppard, and no one I know would do this."
He nodded, but Carolyn could tell that he didn't believe what Sam was saying.
*
Sam let Carolyn drive her back to her apartment building, slumped against the seat and unable to get the image of the victim out of her mind. "I think I should ask to be taken off this case," she said as they rode the elevator up to her floor.
"We don't know for sure that it's you Green Thumb is after."
"But what if it is me?" She unlocked the door and checked the apartment with her weapon, turning on all the lights as she went. "I just don't understand it," she said finally, sitting down on the couch still holding her gun. Carolyn took off her shoes and stood in front of the couch, looking at her. "What is it?"
"Are you going to hold your gun all night?" Carolyn asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam leaned forward and set it on the coffee table, and Carolyn sat down next to her, drawing in close and tucking her feet up underneath her.
"Do you want coffee or something?" Sam asked after a moment.
"No, I'm fine." She leaned against Sam. "Is, uhm, is this okay?"
It's more than okay; please come closer so I can feel your heart beating, was what Sam wanted to say. She could smell Carolyn's shampoo, something simply clean. No florals in the autopsy room, she thought. She slid her arm around Carolyn's waist. "Yeah, it's okay."
5. Friday, November 30th, 2007. Today's moon phase: waning gibbous.
"Who are you and why are you in my briefing room?" Jack asked Sheppard when he arrived after lunch, and Sam didn't even try to hide her grin.
Sheppard introduced himself and shook Jack's hand, but Sam could tell Jack was more worried about his afternoon cup of coffee than the FBI agent. Now that he was back from Seattle, she felt better. Carolyn had convinced her not to resign from the case until after Jack returned, and Sam was glad she'd taken the advice.
Carolyn had only stayed an hour the night they'd found the last victim, a full schedule of autopsies the next day, but when they'd said goodbye at the door Sam had been surprised at her reluctance to let go. They'd only seen each other a handful of times since then and it was always in the context of work. Sam found herself wishing for other contexts.
Jack was eyeing Sheppard warily. "You ever go out and arrest people, or do you just sit in an office all day?"
"I spent six years with the Dallas field office's special tactics team before I moved to Washington," Sheppard replied. "There was a lot of busting down doors and slapping on the handcuffs."
"Uh-huh." Jack poured himself a cup of coffee. "Sam?"
She waved him off. "No, I'm good, thanks."
There was a loud bang on the door and McKay came stumbling in with Carolyn behind him, both in their white lab coats. "The bastard left a hair on victim number six - with a follicle. I did the DNA typing and we got a match."
Everyone froze, and Sam would have sworn she could hear her heart beating in her ears. Carolyn and McKay were both looking directly at her. "Who?"
"Martin Lanning. Do you know him?"
Jesus Christ. She sat down before she even realized she was doing it, barely noticed Jack and Carolyn both moving to stand on either side of her. "He's a good friend of mine," she said weakly. "He wanted to be more than, at one time, that but I said no. I can't believe he'd kill people because of that, though." She rubbed a hand over her face, not looking at anyone. "It doesn't make any sense."
"There's a lot more work to do before we think about arresting someone," Jack said firmly. "Carter, you okay on this?"
"I don't think I should be here right now," she replied. "They'll move me out because of the personal involvement anyway-"
He interrupted her. "Okay, let me talk to Landry. I know we can get some of the plainclothes guys to volunteer for stakeout duty. You go home for now. Carolyn will drive you. Call me if you think of anything about this Lanning guy that might help."
*
"It's like last week all over again," Sam attempted to joke in the car, and Carolyn squeezed her hand. "I feel bad that you always get stuck driving me home. God, I can't believe it's Marty."
"Just because they found trace leading to him doesn't mean he's the killer," Carolyn replied. "You know that as well as anyone."
"True."
She saw Sam turn and gaze out the window. "I could just drop you off…"
"Could we go to your place? I don't think I can be in my apartment right now."
Carolyn could figure why, and rubbed her thumb over Sam's. "Of course."
Her apartment was tiny and cluttered with books and she wished she'd had the chance to clean up, but Sam didn't seem to notice, just pushed off her coat and reached for Carolyn. "Marty even came to the funeral," she said in a choked voice.
Carolyn dropped her coat on the floor and wrapped her arms around Sam, felt her breath hitch. "It's all right," she murmured. "You couldn't have known."
"I could have stopped him."
"Sam, it’s one hair. You know as well as anyone there could be other reasons why it was at the scene. Like O'Neill said, they've got a long way to go before anyone is arrested," Carolyn reminded her softly, and rubbed her cheek against Sam's.
"I know." It was barely a sigh in her ear. Carolyn pulled her down on to the loveseat, trying not to frown at the look of sadness on Sam's face. "Oh god, Carolyn, I know why he missed the fourteenth," Sam said suddenly. "I drove Marty to the airport the day before - he went to Atlanta for work." She groaned and pressed her face into Carolyn's neck, and Carolyn breathed her in.
"You should tell Jack," she replied. "But first, I need to tell you that I feel like I'm taking advantage of you like this."
Sam shook her head slightly. Her hair tickles, Carolyn thought. "You're not taking advantage of me," Sam said, and moved a little, brushed her mouth across Carolyn’s. “Or rather, I think I want you to take advantage of me.”
“Really,” Carolyn murmured. She moved closer.
“Yes.” Sam pulled her onto her lap, tugged out the elastic band holding back Carolyn's hair. "You should wear your hair down more often."
"It gets in the way," Carolyn replied, but she sighed as Sam ran her hands through it. It's been a long time since anyone's done that, she thought, and kissed Sam again, more thoroughly this time. Sam tasted like government coffee and artificial sweetener and something Carolyn couldn't identify right away. "Did you have a candy bar this afternoon?" she asked suddenly.
Sam looked confused. "What? Something with almonds from the machine. Why?"
Carolyn smiled. "You taste good."
"Oh." Sam smiled back and then laughed. "You had me scared there for a second, switching topics like that."
Carolyn kissed underneath her ear and felt Sam shiver. She moved down, to the open collar of Sam's shirt, licked the hollow of her throat. "You taste good here, too," she murmured, and felt it more than heard it as Sam caught her breath.
6. Saturday, December 1st, 2007. Today's moon phase: last quarter.
“What’s his schedule like, Carter?” Jack asked in the car as they sat outside Lanning’s apartment building, blowing on steaming hot cups of coffee.
“He processes insurance claims for that place over on Canyon Boulevard,” she replied, but Jack probably knew that already. “He works a lot, late hours. If we went out it was always on the weekend.”
“What did he go to Atlanta for?”
“Some sort of conference.”
They’d checked with law enforcement agencies in and around Atlanta, but if Lanning was Green Thumb, his murderous impulses had remained hidden. There were no unusual deaths, no murders matching the MO. He only does it here, Sam thought and shuddered.
“How are you holding up?”
“Me? I’m fine,” she said automatically.
Jack looked unconvinced and asked in a casual voice, “And how’s Carolyn?”
“She-” Sam stopped and glared at him. “She’s fine.”
“I want you to be happy, Sam,” he said seriously. “And Jacob would have wanted you to be happy, too.”
She added a packet of sugar to her coffee and looked up at the apartment building. “I don’t know how impressed he would have been with my decision to be involved with a woman.”
“I don’t think it would have mattered to him.”
“Seriously, Jack.”
“Carter, would I lie to you?” he asked, and gave her the same goofy smile that had made her adore him for years in high school.
Sam chuckled. “Probably.”
The radio crackled. “Sheppard to O’Neill.”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s movement in the apartment, looks like he’s coming out.”
“Roger that. We’re set to tail.”
Sam snapped the lid on her cup again. “He’s a smart guy,” she said quietly. “How can he not know we’re on to him?”
“Some guys want to get caught,” Jack replied, and started the car. Lanning came out the front door, wearing a black winter coat and a black scarf. He looked around briefly before getting into his sedan and pulling away from the curb. “Where could he be going?” Jack asked Sam.
“On a Saturday? Anywhere.”
They followed Lanning east on Arapahoe, then north on Folsom. Jack adjusted his sunglasses. "What's the moon phase today?”
“Last quarter,” she replied immediately.
“Do you know your horoscope, too?” he asked, laughing, and Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m going to assume for now that he’s not looking for a victim.”
“It’s hard to say - no one close to the previous victims noticed anyone following them in the days leading up to their murders, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look ahead of time.”
Jack slowed for the light at Folsom and Edgewood, three cars behind Lanning. Sam recognized the neighborhood; it was the same way she drove to Carolyn’s place. “Do we have another car?”
“No, Sheppard stayed behind to watch the apartment.” She leaned back against the seat. “Jack, I have to tell you, I’m starting to think this job isn’t for me.”
“This case or this job?” he asked, because he knew the difference.
“At first I thought it was just this case, but it’s the job. I haven’t felt like I enjoyed it since I made detective. Working the street was one thing - I felt like I was making a difference every day, even if it was something as simple as picking up someone for shoplifting. But now… it’s hard. And you know me, Jack. I’ve never run from anything hard in my life.”
“I know.” He turned west onto Fremont, careful to stay several cars behind Lanning. “What would you do instead?”
“Go back to school, probably.”
“Still thinking about that astronomy degree, are you?”
“It was astrophysics. And yeah, I am.”
Traffic slowed again. “Sam, if it’s what you want, I’m not going to try and talk you out of it,” Jack said. Ahead, Lanning had flipped on his blinker. Jack eased into the turn lane one car behind him. “What’s on Forest he could be going to?” he grumbled.
Sam blinked. Fuck, this can’t be happening. “Carolyn lives on 23rd,” she said. “He can’t possibly know that.”
“If that’s where he’s going, he’s probably followed you there.”
Lanning had now turned onto Carolyn’s street. Jack hung back a ways, no cars in between them and the one they followed, and they watched as Lanning dropped to a few miles an hour as he went past Carolyn’s building, then sped up again. “Damnit,” Sam swore, her stomach clenching. “I’ll kill him myself for even thinking about laying a hand on her.”
“Take a deep breath, Sam,” Jack advised. “And then call Carolyn and tell her to come stay with you.”
7. Thursday, December 6th, 2007. Today's moon phase. waning crescent.
I’d almost forgotten what it was like to wear this thing, Sam thought, strapping on her bulletproof vest before getting into the car next to Jack. “You ready?” he asked her.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Sheppard to O’Neill,” came over the radio.
“Go ahead.”
“He’s here.”
“Roger that, we’re on the way,” Jack said, and Sam felt less nervous than she had in weeks. Finally.
Martin Lanning was simply standing there, waiting for them when the SWAT team broke down his door. He smiled, his gaze on Sam. “Hello, Samantha,” he said, and she felt sick. The air smelled like roses.
“You’re under arrest, Marty,” she told him. He nodded and let Jack snap the cuffs on without complaint, watching Sam all the while. “I don’t understand how you could do it,” she murmured.
“All I wanted was you,” he replied, and she couldn’t look at him a second longer.
Jack moved Lanning to the door. “You probably shouldn’t talk to him, Carter,” he said, and the SWAT guys led Lanning away. Sam turned and looked out the window for a long moment, not really seeing anything, just waiting for the horrible feeling to pass. She wished Carolyn were there - Carolyn who wouldn’t look at her with pity like Jack and McKay were, or with eyes full of questions like the uniforms and the techs.
She thought again about resigning.
Jack bumped her with his elbow. “Hey, you okay? That was probably the most anticlimactic arrest I’ve ever seen.”
“Me, too. And I’m fine.”
He smiled slightly. “You’re not, but you’re not going to tell me otherwise.”
Sam stared even more determinedly out the window. Three stories below them, Lanning was being locked into the squad car. “Do you need me here?” she asked Jack, gesturing at the crime lab people starting to gather evidence. “If you don’t, I’d rather be somewhere else.”
“Go.”
She headed for the door, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Carolyn without even thinking about it.
*
“Did you get him?” was the first thing Carolyn asked after seeing Sam’s number on the caller ID and hitting the speakerphone button with her elbow.
“We got him.”
Carolyn closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the knot of worry start to unwind. For the past week, she’d been terrified for Sam’s safety, her share of the unspoken fear running through the entire building, everyone convinced that either she or Sam would be the next victim. “So what’s next?”
“They’re taking him to the jail; he’ll probably be arraigned tomorrow. From the looks of the place, McKay won’t have any trouble finding half a dozen nails for this coffin.” Sam paused briefly. “I got out of there as fast as I could. Are you free?”
“Not yet. I’ve got one more autopsy this afternoon.”
“Damn.”
“You could come over here,” Carolyn suggested. “I’ve got about an hour before I need to start, and an office with a door that locks.”
“I’ll be there,” Sam said, and disconnected.
By the time Carolyn had stripped off her gloves and gown, washed her hands and walked down to her office, Sam was already there waiting. Carolyn locked the door behind them. Sam tugged her coat off and pushed Carolyn against the desk with a kiss, her mouth hot and seeking.
Carolyn kissed back, hard. "Sorry I smell like antiseptic," she whispered when they parted.
"I don't care." Sam nuzzled against her neck. "I just need to be here."
Carolyn nodded; she understood. She guided Sam's mouth back to hers and, without looking, stripped the bulletproof vest from Sam's body. It fell with a dull noise to the floor. She slid her hands up under Sam's shirt and Sam groaned, pushed her breasts into Carolyn's hands. She was warm and she smelled so alive.
"Move in with me," Carolyn murmured against Sam's cheek.
"Okay," Sam breathed back, and let Carolyn unzip her jeans, slide a hand under the waistband of her practical work panties. Let her turn them so that Sam was the one against the desk. It only took a few seconds, a couple flicks of her thumb against Sam's clitoris, for Sam to fall apart. Shaking on the edge of the desk with one hand balanced on a pile of paperwork, her other hand tangled in Carolyn's hair, and whispering things Carolyn hoped she meant.
8. Tuesday, January 8th, 2007. Today's moon phase: new moon.
Carolyn stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching Sam undress. She’d just gotten back from giving testimony to the grand jury, and she looked exhausted. "So now what?” Carolyn asked.
“He’ll go to trial eventually,” Sam replied and pulled her shirt over her head. "What?" she asked. "You're staring."
"Well, you're gorgeous," Carolyn replied, folding her arms over her chest and grinning. "I wanted to tell you that the first night we met. You were wearing that black dress, and I was jealous of whoever else had gotten to see you in it."
"What, when I went out to dinner with my old partner?" Sam laughed. "He's as good as married to some European girl with pigtails who won't actually marry him, so don't worry about him."
"You could invite them over some time, if you want." She hoped Sam understood what she meant.
"I might do that. You know, I told Jack."
"I figured you would." Carolyn walked over and slipped her arms around Sam's bare waist. "When do classes start?"
"Next week," Sam sighed. "I'm so nervous. It feels like forever since I've been in school."
"You'll do great." Carolyn kissed her neck, sure of it. "But I don't think I'll be any help when it comes to homework."
"That's all right, I'll just ask McKay," Sam teased, and Carolyn pushed her down onto the bed. Sam lifted her hands and cupped her face as Carolyn leaned over her. "I wouldn't trade this," she said quietly. "Everything that's happened - it led me to you."
Carolyn smiled and kissed her. "I wouldn't trade it, either," she said, and turned out the light.
Author: amatia
Recipient: dirty_diana
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1 (slight crossover with Stargate: Atlantis)
Pairing: Sam Carter/Carolyn Lam
Rating: R
Word count: ~6,400
Disclaimer: I don't even remember who holds the copyright on these characters, but they're not mine and I make no money off them.
Summary: Detective Sam Carter, newly assigned to her father's last case, meets Medical Examiner Carolyn Lam. (It's a crime AU.)
1. Saturday, November 11th, 2007. Today's moon phase: waxing crescent
The first thing Carolyn noticed was that Detective Samantha Carter looked like the victims. Green Thumb would love her, she thought, then winced at her use of the nickname the papers had given the killer. They always had to have a nickname - catchy headlines sold more copies - but Carolyn thought this one sounded more like a gardening expert on the radio than a serial murderer. Daniel Jackson at the Observer had been the first to use it, after an "anonymous source " had let it slip that the killer always left a freshly-cut rose beside each victim, and if she didn't like the majority of his reporting, Carolyn could have strangled him herself.
The second thing she noticed as she stood up was that the Detective looked like she'd gotten the call in the middle of a date. She was wearing a low-cut black dress that hugged all her curves, patent leather heels and hammered silver jewelry that looked expensive. The purse she was clutching was definitely not made for work. Pink nail polish sparkled as she held a hand out to Carolyn. "Sam Carter. I've been assigned to this case."
So this was Jacob's daughter, at last. What idiot decided giving her the case that killed her father was a good idea? "Carolyn Lam. I'm the on-call ME."
"I know."
"I'm sorry for your loss," Carolyn murmured. "And I'm sorry you had to inherit this case."
"Yeah, thanks," Carter said, and the look on her face clearly expressed that she didn't want to talk about it. She gestured at the covered body a few feet away. "So what have we got?"
Carolyn folded her arms. "Just like the others. Female, mid-30's, strangled from behind with what appears to be a scarf, just like the others. Based on temperature, I'd say she's only been dead around three hours. The kid over there talking to Officer Harriman found the body while he was riding his bike."
"He's getting bolder," Carter replied.
The last four hadn't been found until twelve hours after death at the earliest, and there'd been barely enough left of the first victim to identify her. Carolyn nodded. "Yeah. He is."
*
Sam could feel Carolyn's eyes on her as she drove from the crime scene to the medical examiner's office. She felt like everyone had been looking at her lately, all of them with that same apologetic expression. They all wanted to say they were sorry just as Carolyn had done earlier, and while sorry was all well and good, it didn't bring her dad back, and it didn't make her feel much better. She waited for the inevitable "are you okay?" but Carolyn didn't speak.
She realized they were only a few blocks from her apartment. "Do you mind if I stop and change?" she asked. "My place is just around the corner."
"That's fine."
Sam noticed as Carolyn zipped her coat a little higher. The adrenaline of the crime scene was wearing off for her as well, and there was no way she was spending any longer in a dress and nylons. It was pretty stupid of you to go there in this getup anyway, she told herself as she guided the SUV to the curb. "You can come up if you want."
"Thanks," said Carolyn with a nod, and they got out of the car.
Inside the apartment, Sam gestured towards the couch. "Have a seat," she said, kicking off the heels as she spoke. "I'll just be a minute."
She removed her earrings as she walked down the hall. She hadn't anticipated being assigned to this case, even though she'd asked for it, and when Cam had said he'd take her out to dinner to get her mind off things, the last call she'd been expecting was one saying there'd been another murder. I should have figured it, though, she thought as she pulled the dress over her head. Green Thumb had struck each waxing crescent and waning crescent for the last two months, when there was only the tiniest visible sliver of moon, but he'd missed October 14th.
Sam stripped off the nylons and stuck her head out the door. "Carolyn," she called.
*
Carolyn could see Sam's face, half in shadow, and the curve of one naked shoulder as Sam's head appeared through the doorway. "Yes?"
"Why do you think he skipped the 14th?"
Carolyn shrugged, even though she knew Sam couldn't see it. "Work. Family. Any number of reasons, really."
"But you agree with me that it was unusual for him to miss a day?" Sam continued, and Carolyn saw a flash of bare leg. The woman was gorgeous, she had to admit, with that spiky blonde hair and those sad blue eyes. Not that she was normally attracted to unhappy people, but Sam Carter was so obviously holding it all inside.
"I do," she replied. "Something broke his routine, but there's no way to know yet what it was."
"True," she heard Sam call back from inside the bedroom, and saw the door close.
She looked around the apartment. Family photos in frames were scattered between what looked like deep-space photographs, probably from the Hubble. There were cut lilies in a vase on the counter. Sympathy flowers, she thought. Sam came out of the back in jeans and a sweater. "You like astronomy?" Carolyn asked, gesturing at the pictures.
"It's kind of a side passion," Sam admitted with a smile. "If I hadn't gone to the Academy, I'd probably be trying to get into NASA. Are you ready?"
Carolyn stood up. "Of course."
Sam kept talking as they went down to the car. "I didn't want to spend another minute freezing my ass off in that dress. I hope I didn't screw up your autopsy schedule by stopping."
"You looked very nice in it," Carolyn said, surprising herself. "And, uhm, no. My autopsy schedule's not screwed up." She felt even more tired as she thought about the work that still lay in front of them tonight. "Should we get some coffee? I think I'm going to need it."
*
Why does Jack have to be in Seattle this week? Sam asked herself as she and Carolyn stood in front of the wall-sized bulletin board plastered with victims' photos, newspaper clippings, moon phase printouts, maps, and scribbled notes in her father's handwriting. She thought about calling him, but it was midnight and she knew how cranky he could get without sleep. Jack had been Jacob's partner, and Sam had inherited him along with this case. He knew a hundred times more about it that she'd been able to learn in the last few days. "Okay," she said to Carolyn, "you're my de facto partner for a couple of days while O'Neill is out of town... give me the gory details."
Carolyn raised a quick eyebrow at the partner part and Sam nearly missed it. "Right. All five victims were strangled with either the same scarf or the same type of scarf. Based on the fact that I pulled identical fibers from three of them, I'd say it was the same scarf. He usually doesn't leave much trace behind; the scarf fibers on three, spots of mud from the same source on two, a single strand of hair that was on the second victim. No follicle, so McKay can't get DNA off it."
"No post-mortem mutilation, no sexual assault before or after," Sam murmured, looking at the photograph of #2 alive that the parents had provided. She felt slightly bad referring to them as numbers, not with names, but she had to learn all the details first. "And he obviously has a type."
"Yes. The victims were all within five inches of each other in height, and twenty pounds in weight," Carolyn said, and Sam looked a little closer at the pictures. The girls all looked like her. She suppressed a shiver. "You see it too," she heard Carolyn say softly.
"It's a creepy, I admit."
Carolyn nodded. "I should do the autopsy now. Are you coming?"
Sam didn't really want to; she'd never gotten used to being in the room during the autopsies. "Yeah, let's go."
2. Saturday, November 17th, 2007. Today's moon phase: first quarter.
"Detective Carter," someone was saying from what sounded like far away. "Carter. Carter."
Sam blinked and realized she was half-laying on her desk; she'd fallen asleep in the middle of a large stack of VICAP computer printouts. Landry was standing next to the desk. "Sorry," she said, scrubbing tiredly at her face and running her hands through her hair. "I honestly didn't mean to stay here all night."
"That's what they all say. Come into my office for a minute."
Sam straightened her clothes and followed Landry. He sat down behind his desk and gestured at the chair across from it. "Have a seat," he said and then asked, "You're not having much luck, are you?"
At least he got right to the point, she thought, trying not to yawn. "No, Captain. The lack of trace, or witnesses... well, it might be funny if it wasn't so frustrating."
"So our serial killer's a ghost." He paused to take the lid off his coffee and the smell made her mouth water. "I don't think Jack's going to have much luck with this when he gets back, either. You should know I'm thinking about calling in the FBI, Sam."
"Sir-" she started to protest.
"Not to take over your case," he said hurriedly, and someone knocked on the door. "Come in!" he called.
*
Carolyn saw Sam Carter in the hot seat, looking disheveled and tired, and figured she'd pulled an all-nighter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," she said. "I can come back later."
"Nonsense," Landry replied. "You've been putting as much time in on this as Carter, it seems. Sit down."
Carolyn glanced at Sam again, who shrugged. She sat down, sticking her hands in the pocket of her lab coat. "So what's going on?"
"Captain Landry wants to call in the feds," Sam replied, and from the expression on her face, Carolyn assumed this wasn't a good thing. "They like to say they won't take over your investigation, but they do."
"Oh."
"Having them consult on this might help us find a suspect," Landry said firmly. "Sorry, Sam, but the commissioner will be on my ass if I don't do it. I'm calling them this afternoon. Now go get some coffee."
She could tell Sam was about ready to explode as they left the office. "Why don't you go home and change?" she suggested. "I'll see if I can't smooth things over with Dad, maybe get him to hold off for a few more days."
Sam blinked. "Yeah, okay. You know, I almost forgot you're his daughter." She pulled on her coat. "I'll be back in a half an hour."
3. Tuesday, November 20th, 2007. Today's moon phase: waxing gibbous.
There was a guy in a suit moving things around on their bulletin board when Carolyn came into the room Tuesday morning with the forensics head, McKay, right behind her. "Who are you?" she demanded.
He turned and smiled a slightly crooked grin. "John Sheppard, FBI."
"I guess that's one way to find a suspect," McKay murmured over her shoulder.
Carolyn resisted the urge to elbow McKay in his smug face and settled for telling him to shut up instead. She wondered where Sam was. "I don't think Detective Carter is going to appreciate you changing things on her board," she told Sheppard.
He frowned at the pictures and printouts. "Sorry. It makes more sense to me this way."
"Right…" She sat down at the table. McKay made a beeline for the coffeepot.
Sam arrived a few minutes later. "The feds are here, I see," she muttered upon seeing Sheppard. He introduced himself, giving Sam the same goofy smile he'd given Carolyn.
Carolyn decided she didn't like him.
*
Great, Sam thought. The FBI and McKay at once. Not what she'd wanted to deal with right after getting to work. "Sam Carter," she told Sheppard. "My partner Jack O'Neill is in Seattle for another week. I don't know if you'll be meeting him or not."
"I recognize your name and his," Sheppard replied. "Jacob Carter was your father, right?"
"He is my father," Sam said stiffly, feeling her mouth settle into a tight line. "Rodney, where are you with trace?"
McKay set down his coffee. "There is next to no trace. This guy must wrap himself in clingfilm so that he doesn't leave anything behind. The fibers Carolyn pulled off three of the victims are all identical, wool from something knit, probably a winter scarf. Dozens of stores per city, in every state across the country, sells items made from that wool. The color is the most commonly sold color of all the winter clothing items - hats, scarves, gloves. You're not going to track this guy looking for a black wool winter scarf - half the male population of Colorado would be suspects."
"And the mud?" Sheppard asked.
"Common to the local area. There's no good intersection of places it could have come from and places the scarf could have bought."
"Not to mention where the scarf was bought and where the mud came from could be miles from where this guy actually lives," Carolyn added.
"Exactly." McKay took another gulp of coffee. "The hair on the second victim belonged to the first victim. And the rose? A grocery store chain all across the state stocks them. There's three branches in Boulder alone."
Sam groaned, covering her face with her hands. "If he stops now, we'll never catch him," she muttered, and felt Carolyn touch her shoulder.
*
Sam's right, Carolyn sighed to herself. If he doesn't kill again, we'll never be any closer to finding him, and if he strikes again on the next waning crescent, that's one more innocent victim who doesn't deserve what will happen to her. She looked at Sheppard. "Got a profile yet?" she asked.
"Getting there," was his response. "Although at this point, everything I could tell you is probably things you've thought of already." He gestured toward the list pinned up on the bulletin board. Carolyn didn't recognize the handwriting and figured it must be Jacob's.
"Tell us anyway." That was Sam, and her voice was sharp.
Sheppard looked a little perplexed, but started talking. "Any college student with a few criminal justice courses under their belt could tell you that you're looking for a white male. He's probably under forty-five; I'd say you're looking for someone in the age range of your victims, thirty to thirty-seven. Can I ask you a question, Detective Carter?"
"Go ahead."
"How old are you?"
"Thirty-five," she answered. "And yes, before you say it, everyone here knows that I fit the killer's type." Carolyn pressed her shoulder gently against Sam's, not knowing how to offer comfort any other way. Sam flashed her a smile before continuing. "I think it's fair to say that normal detective work hasn't gotten anyone very far on this case - not my father, not O'Neill, and definitely not me. So can you help us or not?"
*
Sam waited for an answer, keeping her eyes on Sheppard. He looked over at the bulletin board. "I can help you," he said finally. "But my profile might only help in narrowing down the potential suspect pool."
"I think the commissioner would take anything at this point," Landry interrupted, standing in the doorway of his office. "You've got two weeks before Green Thumb is supposed to kill again, according to his pattern."
"He might be a Son of Sam," Sheppard mused. "The kind that thinks they hear voices telling them to kill. There's a history of that with lunar pattern killers."
McKay set his cup down loudly. "But that doesn't help anyone find him."
"He really knows what he's doing, managing not to leave trace," Sheppard continued as if McKay hadn't even said a word. Sam tried not to smile. "If he was really whacked-out, he wouldn’t think to be that careful."
"Maybe he's doing it to get attention of some kind," Carolyn said from beside Sam.
"A 'fifteen minutes of fame' kind of thing?" McKay asked, and Sam saw Landry roll his eyes in McKay's direction.
Sheppard shook his head. "That's so Law and Order. This guy is more than likely trying to get the attention of a specific person. A lover who left him, or his boss, or his mother, that sort of thing."
"If we could figure out who, we'd move a little closer to finding him," Sam murmured. They all looked at her. "What?"
"Maybe it's you," McKay suggested. "After all, you are his type."
Carolyn spoke before she could, like she was trying to save Sam from having to reply. "Yes, but the first victim could have been the catalyst, even if we didn't uncover anything to suggest she was."
McKay opened his mouth to argue, but his cell phone rang before he could speak. "Damnit, I'm going to be late for court," he muttered. "I'll try one more time to pull some trace when I get back," he told them, and left the room.
4. Saturday, November 24th, 2007. Today's moon phase: full moon.
Sam ran all the way down to Carolyn's office. "There's been another murder," she said, slightly out of breath, her heart pounding. "Come on."
She waited for Carolyn to get her coat and they took off. On the way to the crime scene, lights flashing, she told Carolyn that Sheppard was already there.
"He took the call?" Carolyn asked.
"I think he's taking over," Sam said. Damnit, I told Landry this would happen.
"He's just a consultant. There's no federal jurisdiction here," Carolyn said, sounding confused. Sam shrugged and jammed harder on the gas. "Sam -"
Fuck. "I'm out of my league," she confessed. "I’ve worked murder investigations before but never like this. I should never have asked for this assignment."
"It’s only natural to want to solve your father's last case," Carolyn said in a soft voice.
She wanted to pound the steering wheel. "I should have just left it to Jack."
"You're being too hard on yourself." She put a hand on Sam's wrist.
Sam looked down at it and turned her hand to slide along Carolyn's. "Thanks," she whispered.
Carolyn squeezed her hand and said, "When this is over, I'm taking you out to dinner."
*
Sheppard was waiting when Sam pulled to the curb, McKay behind him. "How'd you get here?" Carolyn asked him as they followed Sheppard and Sam towards the body.
"Rode with Sheppard," he replied, a self-satisfied smile pulling at his mouth.
"And? Is there trace?"
McKay smiled again. One of these days I am really going to punch him in the face, just for the satisfaction of it, Carolyn grumbled to herself. She and Sam crouched down next to the body, and while murder did not normally make Carolyn queasy, this one did. Beside her, Sam was swearing furiously under her breath.
This victim was blonde and fit, just like the others. But unlike the others, her hair had been chopped off, and the effect was an even more striking similarity to the woman next to her. Carolyn glanced up at Sam in horror. "I don't believe this," she breathed.
Sam stood up and walked a few feet away. Carolyn followed. "The FBI can have this damn case," Sam said quietly, and Carolyn was standing close enough to feel that she was shaking. "It was creepy before, the resemblance, but now he's cutting their hair like mine? This can't be for real."
Before Carolyn could say anything, Sheppard stepped up next to Sam. In a low voice, he asked her if she had any reason to believe she was the one the killer was modeling his victims after. "Of course not," she said harshly. "You think I would keep it secret if I did? No one's following me, Sheppard, and no one I know would do this."
He nodded, but Carolyn could tell that he didn't believe what Sam was saying.
*
Sam let Carolyn drive her back to her apartment building, slumped against the seat and unable to get the image of the victim out of her mind. "I think I should ask to be taken off this case," she said as they rode the elevator up to her floor.
"We don't know for sure that it's you Green Thumb is after."
"But what if it is me?" She unlocked the door and checked the apartment with her weapon, turning on all the lights as she went. "I just don't understand it," she said finally, sitting down on the couch still holding her gun. Carolyn took off her shoes and stood in front of the couch, looking at her. "What is it?"
"Are you going to hold your gun all night?" Carolyn asked, raising an eyebrow. Sam leaned forward and set it on the coffee table, and Carolyn sat down next to her, drawing in close and tucking her feet up underneath her.
"Do you want coffee or something?" Sam asked after a moment.
"No, I'm fine." She leaned against Sam. "Is, uhm, is this okay?"
It's more than okay; please come closer so I can feel your heart beating, was what Sam wanted to say. She could smell Carolyn's shampoo, something simply clean. No florals in the autopsy room, she thought. She slid her arm around Carolyn's waist. "Yeah, it's okay."
5. Friday, November 30th, 2007. Today's moon phase: waning gibbous.
"Who are you and why are you in my briefing room?" Jack asked Sheppard when he arrived after lunch, and Sam didn't even try to hide her grin.
Sheppard introduced himself and shook Jack's hand, but Sam could tell Jack was more worried about his afternoon cup of coffee than the FBI agent. Now that he was back from Seattle, she felt better. Carolyn had convinced her not to resign from the case until after Jack returned, and Sam was glad she'd taken the advice.
Carolyn had only stayed an hour the night they'd found the last victim, a full schedule of autopsies the next day, but when they'd said goodbye at the door Sam had been surprised at her reluctance to let go. They'd only seen each other a handful of times since then and it was always in the context of work. Sam found herself wishing for other contexts.
Jack was eyeing Sheppard warily. "You ever go out and arrest people, or do you just sit in an office all day?"
"I spent six years with the Dallas field office's special tactics team before I moved to Washington," Sheppard replied. "There was a lot of busting down doors and slapping on the handcuffs."
"Uh-huh." Jack poured himself a cup of coffee. "Sam?"
She waved him off. "No, I'm good, thanks."
There was a loud bang on the door and McKay came stumbling in with Carolyn behind him, both in their white lab coats. "The bastard left a hair on victim number six - with a follicle. I did the DNA typing and we got a match."
Everyone froze, and Sam would have sworn she could hear her heart beating in her ears. Carolyn and McKay were both looking directly at her. "Who?"
"Martin Lanning. Do you know him?"
Jesus Christ. She sat down before she even realized she was doing it, barely noticed Jack and Carolyn both moving to stand on either side of her. "He's a good friend of mine," she said weakly. "He wanted to be more than, at one time, that but I said no. I can't believe he'd kill people because of that, though." She rubbed a hand over her face, not looking at anyone. "It doesn't make any sense."
"There's a lot more work to do before we think about arresting someone," Jack said firmly. "Carter, you okay on this?"
"I don't think I should be here right now," she replied. "They'll move me out because of the personal involvement anyway-"
He interrupted her. "Okay, let me talk to Landry. I know we can get some of the plainclothes guys to volunteer for stakeout duty. You go home for now. Carolyn will drive you. Call me if you think of anything about this Lanning guy that might help."
*
"It's like last week all over again," Sam attempted to joke in the car, and Carolyn squeezed her hand. "I feel bad that you always get stuck driving me home. God, I can't believe it's Marty."
"Just because they found trace leading to him doesn't mean he's the killer," Carolyn replied. "You know that as well as anyone."
"True."
She saw Sam turn and gaze out the window. "I could just drop you off…"
"Could we go to your place? I don't think I can be in my apartment right now."
Carolyn could figure why, and rubbed her thumb over Sam's. "Of course."
Her apartment was tiny and cluttered with books and she wished she'd had the chance to clean up, but Sam didn't seem to notice, just pushed off her coat and reached for Carolyn. "Marty even came to the funeral," she said in a choked voice.
Carolyn dropped her coat on the floor and wrapped her arms around Sam, felt her breath hitch. "It's all right," she murmured. "You couldn't have known."
"I could have stopped him."
"Sam, it’s one hair. You know as well as anyone there could be other reasons why it was at the scene. Like O'Neill said, they've got a long way to go before anyone is arrested," Carolyn reminded her softly, and rubbed her cheek against Sam's.
"I know." It was barely a sigh in her ear. Carolyn pulled her down on to the loveseat, trying not to frown at the look of sadness on Sam's face. "Oh god, Carolyn, I know why he missed the fourteenth," Sam said suddenly. "I drove Marty to the airport the day before - he went to Atlanta for work." She groaned and pressed her face into Carolyn's neck, and Carolyn breathed her in.
"You should tell Jack," she replied. "But first, I need to tell you that I feel like I'm taking advantage of you like this."
Sam shook her head slightly. Her hair tickles, Carolyn thought. "You're not taking advantage of me," Sam said, and moved a little, brushed her mouth across Carolyn’s. “Or rather, I think I want you to take advantage of me.”
“Really,” Carolyn murmured. She moved closer.
“Yes.” Sam pulled her onto her lap, tugged out the elastic band holding back Carolyn's hair. "You should wear your hair down more often."
"It gets in the way," Carolyn replied, but she sighed as Sam ran her hands through it. It's been a long time since anyone's done that, she thought, and kissed Sam again, more thoroughly this time. Sam tasted like government coffee and artificial sweetener and something Carolyn couldn't identify right away. "Did you have a candy bar this afternoon?" she asked suddenly.
Sam looked confused. "What? Something with almonds from the machine. Why?"
Carolyn smiled. "You taste good."
"Oh." Sam smiled back and then laughed. "You had me scared there for a second, switching topics like that."
Carolyn kissed underneath her ear and felt Sam shiver. She moved down, to the open collar of Sam's shirt, licked the hollow of her throat. "You taste good here, too," she murmured, and felt it more than heard it as Sam caught her breath.
6. Saturday, December 1st, 2007. Today's moon phase: last quarter.
“What’s his schedule like, Carter?” Jack asked in the car as they sat outside Lanning’s apartment building, blowing on steaming hot cups of coffee.
“He processes insurance claims for that place over on Canyon Boulevard,” she replied, but Jack probably knew that already. “He works a lot, late hours. If we went out it was always on the weekend.”
“What did he go to Atlanta for?”
“Some sort of conference.”
They’d checked with law enforcement agencies in and around Atlanta, but if Lanning was Green Thumb, his murderous impulses had remained hidden. There were no unusual deaths, no murders matching the MO. He only does it here, Sam thought and shuddered.
“How are you holding up?”
“Me? I’m fine,” she said automatically.
Jack looked unconvinced and asked in a casual voice, “And how’s Carolyn?”
“She-” Sam stopped and glared at him. “She’s fine.”
“I want you to be happy, Sam,” he said seriously. “And Jacob would have wanted you to be happy, too.”
She added a packet of sugar to her coffee and looked up at the apartment building. “I don’t know how impressed he would have been with my decision to be involved with a woman.”
“I don’t think it would have mattered to him.”
“Seriously, Jack.”
“Carter, would I lie to you?” he asked, and gave her the same goofy smile that had made her adore him for years in high school.
Sam chuckled. “Probably.”
The radio crackled. “Sheppard to O’Neill.”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s movement in the apartment, looks like he’s coming out.”
“Roger that. We’re set to tail.”
Sam snapped the lid on her cup again. “He’s a smart guy,” she said quietly. “How can he not know we’re on to him?”
“Some guys want to get caught,” Jack replied, and started the car. Lanning came out the front door, wearing a black winter coat and a black scarf. He looked around briefly before getting into his sedan and pulling away from the curb. “Where could he be going?” Jack asked Sam.
“On a Saturday? Anywhere.”
They followed Lanning east on Arapahoe, then north on Folsom. Jack adjusted his sunglasses. "What's the moon phase today?”
“Last quarter,” she replied immediately.
“Do you know your horoscope, too?” he asked, laughing, and Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m going to assume for now that he’s not looking for a victim.”
“It’s hard to say - no one close to the previous victims noticed anyone following them in the days leading up to their murders, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t look ahead of time.”
Jack slowed for the light at Folsom and Edgewood, three cars behind Lanning. Sam recognized the neighborhood; it was the same way she drove to Carolyn’s place. “Do we have another car?”
“No, Sheppard stayed behind to watch the apartment.” She leaned back against the seat. “Jack, I have to tell you, I’m starting to think this job isn’t for me.”
“This case or this job?” he asked, because he knew the difference.
“At first I thought it was just this case, but it’s the job. I haven’t felt like I enjoyed it since I made detective. Working the street was one thing - I felt like I was making a difference every day, even if it was something as simple as picking up someone for shoplifting. But now… it’s hard. And you know me, Jack. I’ve never run from anything hard in my life.”
“I know.” He turned west onto Fremont, careful to stay several cars behind Lanning. “What would you do instead?”
“Go back to school, probably.”
“Still thinking about that astronomy degree, are you?”
“It was astrophysics. And yeah, I am.”
Traffic slowed again. “Sam, if it’s what you want, I’m not going to try and talk you out of it,” Jack said. Ahead, Lanning had flipped on his blinker. Jack eased into the turn lane one car behind him. “What’s on Forest he could be going to?” he grumbled.
Sam blinked. Fuck, this can’t be happening. “Carolyn lives on 23rd,” she said. “He can’t possibly know that.”
“If that’s where he’s going, he’s probably followed you there.”
Lanning had now turned onto Carolyn’s street. Jack hung back a ways, no cars in between them and the one they followed, and they watched as Lanning dropped to a few miles an hour as he went past Carolyn’s building, then sped up again. “Damnit,” Sam swore, her stomach clenching. “I’ll kill him myself for even thinking about laying a hand on her.”
“Take a deep breath, Sam,” Jack advised. “And then call Carolyn and tell her to come stay with you.”
7. Thursday, December 6th, 2007. Today's moon phase. waning crescent.
I’d almost forgotten what it was like to wear this thing, Sam thought, strapping on her bulletproof vest before getting into the car next to Jack. “You ready?” he asked her.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Sheppard to O’Neill,” came over the radio.
“Go ahead.”
“He’s here.”
“Roger that, we’re on the way,” Jack said, and Sam felt less nervous than she had in weeks. Finally.
Martin Lanning was simply standing there, waiting for them when the SWAT team broke down his door. He smiled, his gaze on Sam. “Hello, Samantha,” he said, and she felt sick. The air smelled like roses.
“You’re under arrest, Marty,” she told him. He nodded and let Jack snap the cuffs on without complaint, watching Sam all the while. “I don’t understand how you could do it,” she murmured.
“All I wanted was you,” he replied, and she couldn’t look at him a second longer.
Jack moved Lanning to the door. “You probably shouldn’t talk to him, Carter,” he said, and the SWAT guys led Lanning away. Sam turned and looked out the window for a long moment, not really seeing anything, just waiting for the horrible feeling to pass. She wished Carolyn were there - Carolyn who wouldn’t look at her with pity like Jack and McKay were, or with eyes full of questions like the uniforms and the techs.
She thought again about resigning.
Jack bumped her with his elbow. “Hey, you okay? That was probably the most anticlimactic arrest I’ve ever seen.”
“Me, too. And I’m fine.”
He smiled slightly. “You’re not, but you’re not going to tell me otherwise.”
Sam stared even more determinedly out the window. Three stories below them, Lanning was being locked into the squad car. “Do you need me here?” she asked Jack, gesturing at the crime lab people starting to gather evidence. “If you don’t, I’d rather be somewhere else.”
“Go.”
She headed for the door, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Carolyn without even thinking about it.
*
“Did you get him?” was the first thing Carolyn asked after seeing Sam’s number on the caller ID and hitting the speakerphone button with her elbow.
“We got him.”
Carolyn closed her eyes and sighed, feeling the knot of worry start to unwind. For the past week, she’d been terrified for Sam’s safety, her share of the unspoken fear running through the entire building, everyone convinced that either she or Sam would be the next victim. “So what’s next?”
“They’re taking him to the jail; he’ll probably be arraigned tomorrow. From the looks of the place, McKay won’t have any trouble finding half a dozen nails for this coffin.” Sam paused briefly. “I got out of there as fast as I could. Are you free?”
“Not yet. I’ve got one more autopsy this afternoon.”
“Damn.”
“You could come over here,” Carolyn suggested. “I’ve got about an hour before I need to start, and an office with a door that locks.”
“I’ll be there,” Sam said, and disconnected.
By the time Carolyn had stripped off her gloves and gown, washed her hands and walked down to her office, Sam was already there waiting. Carolyn locked the door behind them. Sam tugged her coat off and pushed Carolyn against the desk with a kiss, her mouth hot and seeking.
Carolyn kissed back, hard. "Sorry I smell like antiseptic," she whispered when they parted.
"I don't care." Sam nuzzled against her neck. "I just need to be here."
Carolyn nodded; she understood. She guided Sam's mouth back to hers and, without looking, stripped the bulletproof vest from Sam's body. It fell with a dull noise to the floor. She slid her hands up under Sam's shirt and Sam groaned, pushed her breasts into Carolyn's hands. She was warm and she smelled so alive.
"Move in with me," Carolyn murmured against Sam's cheek.
"Okay," Sam breathed back, and let Carolyn unzip her jeans, slide a hand under the waistband of her practical work panties. Let her turn them so that Sam was the one against the desk. It only took a few seconds, a couple flicks of her thumb against Sam's clitoris, for Sam to fall apart. Shaking on the edge of the desk with one hand balanced on a pile of paperwork, her other hand tangled in Carolyn's hair, and whispering things Carolyn hoped she meant.
8. Tuesday, January 8th, 2007. Today's moon phase: new moon.
Carolyn stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching Sam undress. She’d just gotten back from giving testimony to the grand jury, and she looked exhausted. "So now what?” Carolyn asked.
“He’ll go to trial eventually,” Sam replied and pulled her shirt over her head. "What?" she asked. "You're staring."
"Well, you're gorgeous," Carolyn replied, folding her arms over her chest and grinning. "I wanted to tell you that the first night we met. You were wearing that black dress, and I was jealous of whoever else had gotten to see you in it."
"What, when I went out to dinner with my old partner?" Sam laughed. "He's as good as married to some European girl with pigtails who won't actually marry him, so don't worry about him."
"You could invite them over some time, if you want." She hoped Sam understood what she meant.
"I might do that. You know, I told Jack."
"I figured you would." Carolyn walked over and slipped her arms around Sam's bare waist. "When do classes start?"
"Next week," Sam sighed. "I'm so nervous. It feels like forever since I've been in school."
"You'll do great." Carolyn kissed her neck, sure of it. "But I don't think I'll be any help when it comes to homework."
"That's all right, I'll just ask McKay," Sam teased, and Carolyn pushed her down onto the bed. Sam lifted her hands and cupped her face as Carolyn leaned over her. "I wouldn't trade this," she said quietly. "Everything that's happened - it led me to you."
Carolyn smiled and kissed her. "I wouldn't trade it, either," she said, and turned out the light.