Photographs that were very graphic. Burnt bodies with their limbs jutting out at odd angles, melted and unrecognizable as humans anymore. The blast made the room dark, black with intense heat damage and smoke. Telling anyone with a decent knowledge of basic science that the fire was fast and hot, consuming everything in seconds.
The last photograph was of what once had been Bourne's desk. A red circle drawn around the back shelf behind it. I flipped the photo over, in quick handwriting in black ink was, "Items are missing from Bourne's personal notebooks. Tech team collected destroyed journals numbered 1-90. #85, #20 and #3 are missing. Side investigation will be conducted by Internal Affairs."
I returned the photo the file folder, collecting the report back in with it. The notebook I had found in Tennessee would be one of the missing three. My gut was telling me that it had to be, it would make sense if Alistair was willing to kill me and burn it and me to the ground to hide it from the CIA.
Now it was just a matter of placing who took it, if they were one of the three and if one of them was Alistair.
I threw the file on the floor, looking down at Norbert. "This will be as easy as solving the Jack the Ripper mystery." I flicked his little beak with my finger and leaned back against the pile of pillows. I closed my eyes, sighing hard and letting my brain work around the clues I had. This was not going to be easy or over soon.
I jumped slightly when I heard Claire's bedroom door slam shut, her hard steps hitting the stairs as she went down. I sighed again, it was obvious that Rebecca and her had another heated discussion. A heated discussion where I knew I was the main topic.
I rolled over on my side, hugging Norbert closer to my chest. Maybe I should have returned Rebecca's calls or called her the moment Claire was taken into surgery, but I didn't, I was more focused on Claire and Davey. Not a former assistant, girlfriend who hated me from day one and would until the day I quit or died.
Rubbing Norbert’s fuzzy belly, I thought back to the motel and where I had almost died.
Alistair's words sticking in my ears when I asked who he was. "Someone who understands the betrayal brought on by another. Loss of life brought on by another." His voice devoid of jealousy or any emotion. Immediately ruling out Rebecca as a possible disguise for Alistair. If she had the chance to corner me without Claire knowing, there would be so much emotion and she would want me to look in her pale blue eyes as she let out her jealous frustrations.
Alistair was completely void of emotion, only cold and calculating. Whoever he was, he had planned his attacks on Claire for longer than was shown in that motel basement. He was taking his time, he wanted to kill Claire slowly and painfully.
I sat up in the bed, my stomach tightening at the thoughts of how this man's mind worked. I didn't want to go too far deep into his thoughts, but I would have to.
Setting Norbert on my pillows, I rolled out of the bed and went to my closet, pulling down a shirt and a pair of jeans. I couldn't sit around and wait for Danny to do my job. I would go with him to the two weirdos houses and talk to them, look at their faces, listen to their voices. I had to. It would be the only way I could put my mind at ease.
Davey could sit with Claire until I came back and I could get Sheehnan to promise up and down that I would be safe.
My Purdue shirt was halfway off when Claire charged into the bedroom. I turned to her, she was flushed and I could see she was upset.
She had finally changed out of her hospital gown and bloody pants, dressed in a tank top and pajama pants. A sight that made my body tingle from the last bits of serum and how ridiculously sexy she looked even with messy hair and a red face. I cleared my throat, dropping my shirt, moving towards her, "Hey, are you okay?"
Claire took long strides towards me, her hands falling to the sides of my face as she pulled me into a deep, hard kiss. A kiss that caught me off guard by the hardness as well as the faint taste of a very expensive whiskey on her lips. I broke off from her mouth and ran my fingers over tingling lips, looking at Claire painfully, "You were drinking." I looked hard at her, disappointed and shocked. I never thought I would taste whiskey or alcohol on her lips.
Claire pushed past me to the bathroom, the faucet running and water splashing. I folded my arms across my chest, turning slightly to look at Claire as she tried to rinse off the whiskey. The whiskey that still had the faintest trace on my lips every time I licked them, driving my underlying cravings to the front like a Ferrari on an open road. I had to swallow down the desire to find that bottle of whiskey a couple of times, feeling my anger build with each swallow. The blonde had pulled me kicking and screaming out of my addiction and here she was running to a drink. I stared at her wiping her mouth on a towel, "Why were you drinking?"
Claire set the towel down slowly, "I wasn't." She caught the look in my eyes and sighed. "I almost had a drink. It made it to my lips before I realized how stupid of me it was." She walked out of the bathroom to stand a few steps away from me. "The phone call between Rebecca and I started out informative, then turned personal." Claire's voice was void of any emotion, bothering me more.
I sucked in a breath through my nose, now smelling the whiskey. My hands clenching tight on my arms, I nodded, "I assumed it turned personal by the way you slammed your door and ran downstairs." I dropped my arms, picking my jeans back up, and phone. Quickly texting Sheehnan I would meet him at the police station in an hour to go with him.
I was angry now, angry that Claire let Rebecca get to her and then didn't come to me to let it out. Angrier that my cravings were at a full tilt now, only taking a few seconds for me to want to slip up. Relapse into a lovely glass of whiskey.
I also picked up the shirt I was in the middle of putting on, "I am going to call Sheehnan and hit the two houses." I brushed past Claire to head into the bathroom to change. "I need to stay busy. Even more now." I glanced up at Claire, looking sad, angry and embarrassed. A combination I had never seen on the woman before.
"Kit, I don't think it's safe for you."
I threw my jeans down on the bathroom counter. "I don't think it's safe for me to be here right now! Knowing that somewhere in this house is a big bottle of expensive whiskey. A bottle that I could drain in a matter of minutes with how stressed out I have been these last few days." I leaned over the counter, "Stressed out that I am not doing enough to keep you safe. Not doing enough to find more clues and put this puzzle together before he comes for you again."
I waved at the bed with the file on it, "There are three possible candidates in the guess who of Alistair Montgomery. Two of those could be at Michael or Michaela's house" I threw Claire a hard glare, pausing before straightening up and reaching to close the bathroom door.
I couldn't shut the door, Claire's hand was on it, holding it open as her sea green eyes met mine. "Kit. Please. Don't." Her voice was soft, pleading.
I dropped my hand from the door, "What do you want me to do? Sit here and wait? Wait until the next time he gets close to you at the office? The mall or the grocery store?" I leaned against the bathroom counter, "Or do you enjoy being a prisoner in your own goddamn home." I looked hard in her eyes, "He isn't going to stop unless I stop him. We stop him." I began pulling my damp hair up into a pony tail, "Also, rule number three of recovery. Keep the addict busy. I need to stay busy, especially after that little taste." I shook my head, "I will be fine with Sheehnan." I was firm with Claire, telling her in my tone that there would be no negotiation. I nodded at the door, "I need to get changed."
Claire stared at me, blurting out, "Come to my parent’s tomorrow. The Avondale estate in Connecticut."
I looked at her confused, "What?"
Claire stepped into the bathroom, "My parent’s estate. My childhood home. Come with me tomorrow."
I shook my head, still confused, "Claire I don't think this is the time for me to endure the painful meet the parent’s dinner." I ran my hands nervously over my hair, she had definitely thrown me off my anger tangent.
Her hand was on
my arm, drawing me back up to her eyes, "No time is ever a perfect time to meet your significant others parents, but I go home when I get stressed out. Spend time with my parents and family. They are my lighthouse in every storm and I think now is a perfect time to go to them before I make things worse. Make us worse." Claire smiled softly, her eyes turning glassy. "I want you to meet them and them to meet you. To meet the one woman, one person who is my rock. My life and my love." Claire swallowed hard, "You are my heart, Kit. I want to take my heart home." The last few words came out in a hushed whisper. "We need time away from all of this before we lose ourselves in the madness of another."
The look in her eyes told me that she had never taken anyone home to her parents, to her family and this was more important to her than solving all of the mysteries set before us. I sighed, my resolve melting slowly.
Claire could irritate me, infuriate me, but she made me fight harder than I ever had before. Fight my addiction, my past and fight to end this madness and find the life I always wanted with her. I nodded slowly, "Yes. I will go with you." I scooped up my clothes, "I’ll call Sheehnan back and tell him to go without me." I still had a hint of irritation in my voice. Not willing to let Claire think I had caved so easily, but I would always cave for her, she would always be my weakness. My kryptonite.
I moved past her out of the bathroom, throwing my clothes on the chair by my bed, "I want go see if Davey is awake, I want him to look at Bourne's accident report." I reached for the file folder when I heard the shower come to life.
I turned back to see Claire walking towards me, removing her pajama pants. I gave her a confused look and my open questioning mouth was covered by hers in another hard kiss. This one free of the taste of whiskey, replaced by the mint of my toothpaste mixed with the warmth of her soft lips. Warmth and softness that made me moan as I melted in her arms, wrapping around my waist and pulling my body closer.
I caved completely in her arms, running my hands up into her hair, holding her against my mouth.
God did I love this woman.
She would always be the one thing I would crave more than any whiskey or scotch. Claire broke away, licking her lips and whispering, "I have a few ideas of how to keep us occupied." She kissed the corner of my mouth slowly, before looking in my eyes. Silently communicating everything I needed to know. Her silent apology. The silent promise that she would not let anything or anyone break us apart.
I said nothing, letting Claire take my hand and drag me back into the bathroom where I had my second shower of the day.
____________________
Four hours later, I wiggled free from the blonde’s tight grasp. Claire was dead asleep in her bed, breathing easily and heavily. We had done our best to wear off her serum and stress. I wanted to ask her in the morning if she could bottle up the side effects of the serum. She had given me a run for money, trumping what we had done in her office for hours. My body never experiencing the immense amount of pleasure she brought it.
I smirked, wrapping myself in one of her robes. I was starving and needed to eat. It was only half past midnight, but I had not eaten all day aside from the pieces of candy I stole from the office. I knew she would be hungry when she woke up the moment she felt the cold creep in on my side of the bed. I took one last look at the sleeping woman, memorizing how peaceful she looked when she slept. Promising to myself that I would do everything I could to see her that peaceful every minute of every day.
I closed the door quietly and headed to the kitchen. Picking up my cell phone on the way to look up a pancake recipe.
As I stood in the kitchen, all the ingredients for blueberry pancakes set out in order. I swiped through my phone reading the recipe. At the preheat instructions, my phone interrupted me with Sheehnan’s name blinking on the screen.
I answered it, "Hey Sheehnan, sorry about bailing on you at the last-minute. Something came between Claire and I, files and stuff..." I shook my head at the terrible pun that brought a silly smirk to my face.
Sheehnan didn't find the humor as he spoke quickly and firmly, "Do you think you can meet me at the address I am about to send you, in the morning?"
I held the phone against my shoulder, preheating the frying pan, "Yeah, I think so. Claire and I are heading out of town around ten to get her out of the city for a few days. What's up?"
Sheehnan covered the phone. His muted voice yelling at someone in the background, "Sorry about that Kit." He took a deep breath, "What's up is that I am at that Michael Anderson's house." He paused, yelling again, "Kit I need you to come look at this and tell me if it looks familiar."
I set the butter down, "What is it Sheehnan?"
"It's Michael Anderson. We found him dead in his house. The crime scene is...well excuse my French. It's a fucking weird ass mess, something I have never seen in my entire career as a soldier or a cop. I think you need to see it and then get Claire the hell out of town for a while."
I stared at the hot frying pan, "Send me the address. I will be there first thing." I looked up at the ceiling. "Sheehnan, can you send me a picture of the scene so I have an idea of what to expect?"
"Yeah, sure thing Kit. Keep in mind, it is a pretty gruesome crime scene. Whoever this shithead is, is one twisted shithead and definitely not the CIA. Even the CIA couldn't do fucked up shit like this."
Sheehnan mumbled a few more things before he kept interrupting to yell at people in the background. Finally giving up and telling me he would call me in the morning after the techs collected all of the evidence. As soon as the phone disconnected, two texts came in.
The first was the address of Michael's house, the second was a picture text. When I opened it, I covered my mouth as the gasp came out. I quickly set the phone face down on the counter and took deep breaths.
I had to get Claire out of town and fast.
Chapter 24
I dressed quickly, quietly. I did not want to wake Claire up as I ran downstairs, zipping up one of her grey hoodies I found in the dark corner of the closet. I felt even worse that I was heading to the basement to wake Davey up. Creeping into the spare bedroom, I saw the poor guy rolled up in his blankets like a human burrito. Sleeping heavily and snoring lightly.
I grabbed his shoulder and shook him gently once. His eyes shot open at the first jostle. Davey saw my face and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp. "What's wrong Kit? Claire?" He scanned the room, blinking and squinting as the light attacked his sleep ridden eyes.
I smiled, shaking my head and leaning back, "She's asleep upstairs." I let out a slow breath, "I have to go meet Sheehnan at Michael Anderson's house. He called, telling me there is a scene he needs me to look at. I don't want to wait until morning." I paused, trying to find the words when Davey picked up on my demeanor.
"They found him, didn't they?" His voice told me I didn’t have to say much more.
I nodded, my hand going to the P99 on my hip out of instinct, "Yeah. Sheehnan wants me to come to the crime scene while it is still fresh. If I notice anything that reminds me of the motel and Alistair." I cringed when I thought about the picture Sheehnan sent me. I stood up, "I am going now so I can be back before Claire wakes up and I can get her out of the city." I looked up to meet questioning copper eyes, "We are going to her parents for a few days until things settle down. Until Claire settles down, recharges and relaxes."
Davey ran his hands over his hair, scrubbing away the last pieces of sleep and stood up. I took immediate notice that he was wearing a tank top and tight black boxer briefs. It was the first time I had ever seen the man out of a suit and tie and I could feel the blush building at the sight.
Davey was fit, lean and muscular in a way that surprised me, but the blush wasn't in the name of attraction, it was more for the fact the man felt like a brother to me and I didn't know where to look other than the wall behind him.
Davey grabbed his suit pants draped over a chair, looking over his shoulder at me and smiling, "Are you checking me out Kit?"
I gave him a dir
ty, embarrassed look. "No, I just have never seen you in anything but your expensive Armani suits."
Davey chuckled, nodding, "Doesn't matter if you are. Claire would have still stolen you away from me." He pulled on a thin blue sweater, "I saw the way you two looked at each other that first day in her Malibu home. No one stood a chance." He tucked the sweater into his pants, "Go. I will stand watch over her." He glanced at his watch, "She will be out for at least another two hours." Davey smiled then pointed at my gun, "Be careful and don't be afraid to use that."
I sighed, smiled at him as I whispered a thank you and rushed out of the room.
Grabbing the Lincoln keys, I ran into the garage. Starting the car up and driving it out the back way, quietly navigating it down the block before I revved the engine and sped to the address Sheehnan gave me. I squeezed the steering wheel tighter when I started to remember the last time I was in this car. The time I almost died in it.
Thirty minutes later I pulled up in front of the address. A large house in a neighborhood full of large houses that all looked the same. The only difference was this house had yellow and black crime scene tape wrapped around it to cut the house off from the rest of the block. The red and blue lights lit up the sky in a morbid reminder of what was waiting for me.
I stepped out of the Lincoln as an eager uniformed officer ran towards me, "Ma'am! You need to leave this area."
I tugged my thick coat closer, the cold air biting deep, "Sergeant Sheehnan is expecting me.”
The officer gave me a look of disbelief, "Ma'am, I am sorry, but you are going to have to leave."
I saw Sheehnan jogging over from behind the officer, hollering, "She's good Jones." As he moved closer, I could see his face was firm, stoic. He held up the crime scene tape to let me in and moved fast as soon as I was in, talking equally as fast, "The techs are finishing up and the ME is about to take the body." He looked at me sideways, "You still want to wait until morning and look at the photos?" His tone told me that might be the option I should take instead of going into the actual scene.
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