An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
|Beckett works at keeping Maureen safe|
It was very weird. No doubt about it. He did seem...well...different then he had earlier in the day. Still drunk as hell, and a rumpled mess, but less hostile, and more like the guy he'd know for over a year. He didn't think for one minute that Maureen's silly fairy nonsense had anything to do with it. That had been a coincidence, or more likely, Kevin just pulling his sister's leg. But she had given him an out for his irresponsible behavior, and it was only human nature for her brother to take advantage of it. From his observation, the O'Kenneys did behave "over the top" emotional, and far too dependant on one another, an opinion his wife didn't share.
Whatever the reason, Beckett was glad to see Kevin more in control of himself. Something had obviously gone down between the priest and Maureen's family friend, Roxanne, while they had been away in Mexico. Whatever had happened was no business of his, but getting Maureen to agree would be a challenge. In the meantime, he had problems of his own that took precedence. It was beyond his understanding how the crazy bitch could elude a team of four trained operatives as well as she had. Granted, they were acting as civilians, and were without the comforts and toys government backing would offer. Still, his men should have easily been able to track down the woman's location, and keep her under direct surveillance. The fact that they had been unable to physically verify her presence had him more than a bit concerned.
From his patrol car, he watched his wife move around the deli, helping the Schiller's with the late afternoon, pre-dinner crowd. At least she'd be occupied for the next several hours. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he could see the telephone company truck parked several feet down the block, and breathed a little easier. His men, assigned to keep an eye on Maureen while he was away. They'd do a perimeter search on a regular basis, though in his mind it seemed highly unlikely Cassie would make a move in broad daylight. The fact that she remained unfound this long lay testament to the fact that she was very smart, and very careful. Still, the detail assigned to his wife gave him peace of mind, and would remain in place until he was sure the threat was no longer viable.
On that note, he dug the cell phone from his pocket, and tapped the icon for Mike Nolan. The phone rang only once before it was answered.
"No, Sir. We tracked that lead in Montpelier, Vermont. It looked like a definite location. A room rented, an ATM card used, a rental car booked. Even a prescription ordered at the local drug store. We thought we had a hit for sure. Biggs and Thompson staked out the motel for 3 days. No sign that anyone actually checked in. The desk clerk confirms the room was paid for by credit card, but that the guest had never arrived. Same with the car and prescription. We can try and get hold of the ATM surveillance tape, but I'm guessing it won't show anyone using the machine for that transaction. It's like she's a fuckn' ghost. Everything done on line."
"You checked the servers?" Once the question was out of his mouth, he regretted asking. The pronounced 'tisk' on the other end verified the man's annoyance at being second guessed.
"Of course we did, Captain. Checked, and rechecked. All bounced around several locations across the globe. Complicated pattern. This broad's good. Very good. Too bad we can't get her to work for our side. She'd be a hell of an asset."
The thought of having Cassie as part of his team made him shudder. She knew his weak spots as well as he knew hers. Forging a relationship with her had been a monumental mistake, blinded as he was by her inherent ability to feed into his deepest needs. He had few regrets in his life, and the psycho bitch was one of them. Now this huge error in judgement was a monkey on his back, one he needed to shake off. "Sorry, Mike. I know you guys are doing your best, especially with privacy being an issue in all of this. I appreciate the loyalty."
"No worries, Cap. You've covered my ass on more than one occasion. Frankly, I'm intrigued by this target. She seems quite the little minx. I know it's weird to say, but the way she laid out the C-4 on your house was...well...genius level. She was able to take the whole building out with only three detonations. Most operatives would've felt the need to hit at least four corners. Never thought to breach the main porch supports as she did. The babe knows her physics. Plus, she's got an ass on her that'd give a man a wet dream. I can see why you were attracted." There was no response, so Nolan continued. "No offense offered, Captain. Just sayn', is all. We'll keep tracking her. Keep you updated on what we find. It's only a matter of time until she gets bored and or sloppy, and screws up. Then we'll have her."
Beckett looked up, and watched as Maureen helped an elderly woman carry groceries to her car. She caught his stare, and then smiled and waved, the early evening sun making the curls on her head shine like new pennies. The sight made a knot in his throat, and he grunted in disgust at this show of weakness, causing him to sound much more gruff then he'd planned. "I hope so, Nolan. Do whatever you have to...but find that crazy bitch!"
|Trouble comes to town|
It took well over an hour to finish the email to her satisfaction. She had gone through several drafts and edits, changing words and restructuring sentences, to get the message across in the manner she'd wished. There was a certain way to get through to Teddy. Trigger words she had learned in their months together. There was no way he'd be able to resist the offer she was making. What man could? They all wanted more than their share. It was how they were made. Selfish and demanding. That dumb piece of fluff could have the title. The "dutiful husband show" the rest of the world would see. The white picket fence and the mini van. Even the baby. She'd settle for the best part of him. The one he worked so hard at hiding.
She double checked that the link was working, then hit the "Save" button. Rummaging in the back pack, Cassie located the burner phone she had bought a week earlier just outside of the state line. Powering it up, she thought for a moment, than began to strip out of her clothing. From the same back pack, she pulled out a crumpled red ribbon ripped from the handle of a gift bag, and tied it around her throat. A media message "selfie" would have an even greater impact.
Kneeling on a white sheet, she raised the smart phone over her head, careful that the back ground gave away no hints of her location, and snapped several shots from different angles. Finding one that met with approval, she typed in a message and sent her future on its way.
He waited all of about 30 seconds after his sister and her husband had left the rectory to search for his cell phone. The parlor was a complete mess, and despite frantic exploration, the device was no where to be found. He used the land line to call himself, but had no luck. Either the phone was on silent, or the battery was dead. For the life of him, he could not remember Roxanne's cell number, having put it in his contact list a week ago, and never giving it another thought. And it wasn't like he could call and ask Maureen. She'd never give it up without a hundred questions about why he needed it. Like most people, he doubted Rox had a land line, so there was no way of making sure she was safe and sound from here in Dollyville. He was sick with worry, not to mention the quantity of alcohol consumed by the now missing Fr. Murphy. His head pounded, and he found himself teetering on wobbly legs. In this shape, he couldn't even travel to Boston alone to check on her.
For a moment, he considered calling Beckett, and throwing himself on the man's mercy. He would explain what had happened. Where he had been. Why it was imperative that he get to Boston, and check on Roxanne. Then the absolute absurdity of that situation hit him. Beckett would never believe him. Would never accept the fact that he had somehow time traveled to another period in history, and had been trapped in a different body. Hell. He didn't quite believe it himself, and he had lived it! No. The Sheriff would surely have him committed to a mental hospital for observation. And who could blame him?
He plopped back on the sofa, and then regretted the sudden movement, as his head and stomach both revolted. He felt his foot crush something soft, and squinting down through blood shot eyes, he wondered why the hell bread and honey was smashed into his carpet. He leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, hoping the room would stop spinning. He sat there quietly for what seemed like only minutes, slowly dozing to a state of light slumber, until a voice in his ear caused him to awake with a start.
"I see ya arrived back, laddie. An none worse for the wear. Ya be all in one piece, far as me ole' eyes can see. Quite the adventure you be havin'"
Kevin turned his head with deliberate care, learning his lesson about sudden movements. The little man sat on the back of the sofa, a piece of bread in one hand, and his mouth smeared with something sticky that smelled suspiciously like honey. "Brian? Is that you?"
|Company in the rectory|
Copyright Victoria T. Rocus 2014
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