Over the holidays the dreams about the narrow tunnel haunted Sue's naps and her nights, and with each passing dream the light became brighter and brighter.
Beginning of January, they set an excursion. After packing some food and taking a blanket in case Sue wanted to rest, they ventured once more inside the tunnels. The cave with the drawings welcomed them, all warm and dry. The bicycle beckoned to Sue. Despite her best effort, she still didn't comprehend its signification. They easily climbed inside the narrow tunnel. Levi was ahead, followed by Jack, then Sue who was holding to his waist.
It was cold and damp. They walked for hours, taking small breaks. The tunnel was curving while gradually sloping down. They encountered no junction of any sort. After five hours Jack was ready to turn around when Sue pulled on his belt.
"Jack. Turn your lamp off," she asked, squeezing sideways beside him. "Over there."
In the darkness, a ray of light peered from ahead.
His hand trailed along her arm until he came in contact with her hand. 'G-O', he spelled in it.
"Of course."
He could detect amusement in her voice. Taking her hand in his, they advanced. The light became brighter and brighter until they faced an opening. They were staring at the light blue sky.
Both squinting after spending so much time in the semi-darkness, it took them a few minutes to fully register their location. They emerged from the other side of the inlet, almost at sea level. Snow partially covered the entrance. They pushed their way through the snow, and found themselves sheltered by huge rocks.
"WOW!" exclaimed Sue.
From across the body of water, the cliff near which their house was built faced them. A few feet down and they were on the beach, the water coming very close to their position. Jack indicated a gentle slope at the end of the beach that was leading to the top of the cliff. In the summer, it would make for a very nice walk back home, but with the snow he wouldn't take the chance of Sue and the baby being stranded in the cold.
"We could come back with the quad," she suggested, and he jumped on the idea.
Over the following weeks her dreams changed. She wasn't certain it was an effect of spending most of their days on the quad, discovering the woods and the beach, but she could see Krissa playing on the beach. If it was possible, her dream belly was even bigger as she kept rubbing it. The sky was always blue as she scanned the horizon. The ocean was calm, only small waves were splashing at Krissa's feet. Night after night, without any explanations, her gaze slowly shifted west. From the ocean, her eyes met the cliff, and from there she lifted her head and stared at the sky.
She gasped, and woke Jack instantly.
"Only a dream, sweetheart." He pulled her in his arms, caressing her hair and her back, knowing she could recognise his touch.
"He was there," she murmured eerily. "Over the cliff." Sighing, she cuddled against Jack, the memory quickly fading away.
As she dreamed more, she knew she would retain the images.
Jack held her closely while sleep claimed her once more. His hand came to rest over her tummy.
"Mommy is fine, little one," reassured Jack. "You go back to sleep," he whispered tenderly, looking forward to feel the little bump under the palm of his hand.
It shouldn't be long, he mused. Her pants were too tight already. They needed to go shopping before she got tired of wearing sweatpants all the time. For someone who dreaded shopping, he was looking forward to roaming the maternity section with her.
As the nights succeeded each other's, the brief shadow Sue saw over the cliff slowly turned into a steady black silhouette.
"Could it be Patrick, her husband?" asked Jack some mornings later.
She was in his arms, her chin resting over his bare chest, and he was seriously contemplating breakfast in bed, with her on the menu.
"Don't think so. Not that I can see his face," she said, unsure how to explain. In her mind, she could clearly see the shadow of a man standing at the top of the cliff overlooking the beach. "It's more like..." she sighed in frustration. "Jack, there are days I think I may be crazy."
"You're not crazy, sweetheart," he reassured her. "Is there something you smell or feel?" he asked, trying to help her.
"I tense up when I see him watching us." She wondered if it made sense. "Why would I feel threatened if it was Patrick?"
"You think he may be a stranger?"
She shrugged. No stranger had been reported in town around the time of the murders.
"Or maybe someone Amelia knows but fears?"
"She had no reason to fear anyone in town," Sue objected, her fingers following the contour of his pectoral muscle, a smile slowly appearing on her lips. "She led a quiet life with her husband and daughter. She was expecting their second child."
"Keep going," he suggested huskily, his hands massaging her back.
"Going where, Jack?" Her voice was soft and sensual.
"Here." Pulling her completely over him, he sought her lips.
The story could wait, but not the tender loving care he intended to bestow on his wife.
***
"How about a trip in town today?" Jack suggested at breakfast.
The wind was blowing strong and it was too cold to ride on the quad.
"Good idea. Didn't Chuck say Rosie should be back this week?" she asked, recalling her last conversation with the sweet old man.
"Yah, but he said that the week before, and the week before that, and..."
According to Chuck, Rosie should have been back by mid-January, but they were entering February and she still remained unaccounted for.
"I got it, Jack."
She threw a Cheerio's at him, and he chuckled, before opening wide to see if she would throw another cereal at him.
"Don't tempt me," she laughed.
They went to the library expecting Chuck. He was there, but so was Rosie with a very dark tan.
"Where does your mother live exactly?" teased Sue who was happy to see her.
"I decided I deserved a vacation, so I went to visit a good friend in Florida for two weeks," explained Rosie. "I needed to forget about Richmond and those Feds. Do you realise my computers are still not back?"
From Rosie's facial expression, Sue guessed her voice also increased in volume.
"I'm sure they will turn up eventually," said Jack.
"Whatever, right?" Staring at Jack and Sue, she shrugged in defeat. "Anyway, I cannot believe you're still here. The ghost hasn't materialised yet?"
"No," said Sue with conviction. "But I have more questions, Rosie."
"Would you like me to go?" asked Chuck who didn't want to impose.
"Don't be silly," said Rosie. "You may even be able to help me answer. Shoot, Becky."
"You did say you used to ride your bike through the woods," Sue recalled, only to see Rosie nod in agreement. "Do you remember meeting any stranger on a bike?"
"Bike? Like a bicycle or like a motorcycle?"
"Either or both," replied Sue. "And stranger like in unknown, not strange," she quipped before Rosie could throw that one back at her.
Instead Sue succeeded in making all of them laugh.
"In those days, Rosie would have been the strange one," commented Chuck. "Come to think of it, girl..."
"Chuck, I would rather be strange than bland, besides that's part of my charm."
"Rosie, it doesn't answer the question," Jack reminded her.
"Got side-tracked here," she apologized. "You know, back then, those woods were quite popular. Maybe not as far down your house, but people were riding a lot, and the sound of motorcycles and quads was part of nature."
"So you never saw anyone suspicious?" pushed Sue.
"There was that one time," she said as she recalled the encounter. "I know it was before the murders because I stopped riding after the murders."
They were all listening to her with interest.
"One day, I stumbled on that scary guy in the eastern part of the woods near the small waterfall by the beaver pond."
Both Jack and Sue acknowledged the place. They had ridden a few times by the frozen waterfall already. It was a fair distance from the house.
"And you never told anyone, girl?" gently scolded Chuck.
"I was fifteen, Chuck. My mother didn't want me to venture that far alone, and I was already in enough trouble with her in those days," she said, recalling her tumultuous teenage years. "It wasn't like I saw that guy anywhere near the Carson's house. Anyway, what was I supposed to say? I saw a guy taking a leak by the waterfall? The police would have dismissed it, and my mother would have freaked out. Actually, I was the one freaking out." She shuddered at the memory.
"What do you mean?" inquired Jack. "Could you describe him?"
"I saw him from behind," she recounted, shaking at the memory. "Black leather jacket with silver sequins on the back depicting a skull, and a black helmet. I saw his face only for a second when he turned around before flipping his visor down. He made my skin crawl. Something about his eyes. He drove away towards Creek Plum on his yellow motorcycle."
They all knew Creek Plum was in the opposite direction of the Carson's house.
"Did he see you?" asked Sue
"No. And thank goodness I never saw him again."
***
Tara couldn't believe her bad luck. Her first Valentine's Day with her new husband, and Bobby was on his first raid with his DEA unit. With that depressing thought in mind, she grabbed a sandwich in the vending machine and logged in extra hours. There was that extortion case that she almost wrapped up. Only a few loose ends left. Maybe if she was lucky, she would tie them up tonight.
After the last of her co-workers left, Tara resumed her parallel search. She wasn't closer than she was two weeks ago of finding another suitable suspect on the black list. Maybe she got it all wrong, she mused. She went back to the database with the encrypted security details. According to her computer four authorised people were logged on. As she checked on them, she stumbled on someone she had not seen in a while.
Not that she could see him, she chortled. Her mystery intruder was interested in a particular file. Tara quickly withdrew to a safe distance, expecting the presence of the person shadowing the intruder. She found the second trace, but roaming into a different section.
Good, Tara thought, resuming her surveillance of the intruder, the one she assumed was their killer. This time around she had the necessary technology to track him down. She left an encrypted marker on the file so she could locate it later, before solely concentrating on her target. So far he had no idea she was there. She may not have been crazy about her new job, but that baby responding under her fingertips was worth his weight in gold.
He was good, but not good enough, Tara thought, grinning with satisfaction as she tracked him down to the building. Her heartbeat accelerated. And she found herself holding her breath. She almost got him. He needed to stay in line a few more seconds. She followed the--
"Darn!" she exclaimed after losing him at the last possible moment. She leaned in her chair when another alarm attracted her attention. "Now that's interesting," she said, looking at her other search in the extortion case. She smiled. She'd caught the last missing link. "It wasn't a total waste of time after all," she mumbled as she set to finish her report. She just wished she could have caught the intruder. She would get back to the file he was interested in as soon as she made a neat little bundle of the extortion case.
If anyone inquired it would make the perfect excuse for staying late.
***
He logged out undetected and leaned in his chair, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. The security company hired to escort the necklace from the airport to the fashion show had finally been selected. And coincidentally, it was one he could easily hack into. Some could even call it fate, he decided. He would review the itinerary and determine the best ambush place.
He had some shady characters lined up for the job, not that he trusted any of them, but as long as he paid them like promised, they would deliver the goods. A perfect copy of the necklace should be in his possession by the end of the week. He needed to contact his three potential buyers. If he played his cards right, and let them bid against each other, he potentially could make substantially more than what he first anticipated.
He had twelve days left to coordinate the operation, then he would be free to receive his last treatment and disappear.
He looked at the time, and at the pile of paper littering his mahogany desk. He sighed, bracing himself for another late evening. He needed to remain inconspicuous, which meant doing his job.
The end was near, he reminded himself.
***
Tara went back to the insurance file. It was heavily encrypted. She would need to be creative in her approach, she realised, after yet another unsuccessful attempt. But at the moment, she was going nowhere with it. Maybe if she slept on it, some ideas would pop into her head. She took her extortion case report, and headed towards the elevator. She would drop it on her supervisor's desk on her way out.
For an almost empty building, the elevator was taking its sweet time, mused Tara, unconsciously tapping her foot. After what seemed an eternity, she decided to take the stairs. Maintenance was more than likely working on them. Some sense of urgency was creeping into her, and suddenly she couldn't wait to go home.
The door opened on a lone corridor. Those were mostly Assistant Directors' offices, not that she had ever been summoned here since she began working for the bureau. She recognised the names as she quietly headed towards her supervisor's office at the end of the corridor, by where the elevators were located. Pederson, Augusta, Connors...
She slowed down. She could hear music coming from Connors' office. Not music, she corrected herself, more like some opera, or operetta. She couldn't help think that Myles would know exactly what--
"May I help you?" The voice startled her, and she dropped the file.
She lowered her head and came eye to eye with Assistant Director Connors sitting in his wheelchair. He had opened his door at the same moment she was staring at it. The piece was reaching a crescendo and the soprano voice was filling the air.
"I'm... I... sorry..." she mumbled, bending down to gather her report.
He eyed her suspiciously. "Agent Williams, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Yes, sir," she responded, wondering how come he knew her name.
Then she recalled he came in the bullpen. She could feel his cold stare on her. She quickly glanced at him. He seemed rather intrigued of what she was picking up on the floor, or maybe he was simply irritated because he wanted to exit his office without rolling all over her papers.
"Working late?" he inquired, his voice perfectly modulated. "Unless you were waiting to see me?"
"Yes, no, I mean..." She took a deep breath. "I--"
She was interrupted by footsteps coming in her direction. Just great, she thought, as her new supervisor stopped a few feet from her.
"What are you doing here, Agent Williams?" he demanded sternly.
"The extortion case, sir," she said, having finally picked up all her loose sheets, and scrambling to put them back in order. "I finished it, sir. Tonight. I was on my way to see you," she told him, avoiding Connors' gaze.
"And what were you doing bothering Assistant Director Connors? Ever heard of the chain of command?" he reprimanded.
"Yes, sir. I wasn't... I took the stairs..." She pointed in the opposite direction. "And I guess I was daydreaming." Bad choice of word, she thought too late. "This door opened and... and I dropped everything."
So much for a good impression, she thought.
"I see." Grabbing the report from her hand, he read through it, his brow rising higher and higher. "Impressive, Williams," he praised, something he rarely did.
"Thank you, sir."
Tara caught Connors in her line of vision. He was following the conversation attentively, making her nervous.
"Unless you have questions, sir, I will be going home."
"If I have any, they will be on your desk first thing in the morning, Williams," he said, effectively dismissing her.
"Yes, sir. Good night." Walking back towards the stairs, she felt the gaze of the two men on her back until the heavy door closed on her.
"I'm afraid I scared your agent when I opened the door," offered Connors.
"She does seem skittish, doesn't she?" commented her supervisor, holding the document. "But she finally solved the Cedric's extortion case. I guess I should review it before sending it to the D.A. Have a good evening, sir." And he headed back to his office.
Connors stared at the empty corridor a while longer. For a brief moment, he imagined her spying on him. She probably wasn't a threat, but he couldn't be too careful, could he?
***
Sue closed her eyes a moment, the fragrance permeating her senses.
They went for a long ride on the quad through the woods, and on their return, Jack suggested a long bubble bath. He lit candles and filled the tub for her, but refused to join her. He insisted she took her time since he had a surprise to prepare for her. She had slipped in the hot water and relaxed.
"If I can say so myself, it smells delicious."
He tasted his preparation one last time. He looked around the kitchen. The table was set. Flowers, candles, wine glasses, though he doubted she would drink with the baby. Dessert was in the fridge. He was ready, and his growling stomach told him it was dinnertime. He couldn't hear any sound from upstairs. She couldn't still be in her bath, could she?
He checked to make sure Levi couldn't reach any of the food before going up.
He peeked inside the bathroom, and smiled. She was asleep, her head resting on a towel she placed behind her neck. He would give her a few more minutes.
From the closet, he pulled out her little black dress and laid it on the bed. He then took his suit. Those were the only clothes they had from their previous life. It had been four months already, not that he was counting, but the doctor inadvertently reminded him of it yesterday when Sue went for her monthly check up. He remembered the pride swelling inside him at the steady sound of his baby's heart beating twice as fast as his mommy's. They were both healthy, the doctor said, and that was the only thing that mattered to Jack.
Sue could feel the sun heating her skin as she lay on the beach. Krissa was making sandcastle near her feet. Droplets of cold water splashed on her leg when the child filled a hole with water, only to see the sand drink it avidly. She watched her daughter scoop more seawater with a red plastic bucket and spill part of it as she brought it near her mother. The child who moments ago seemed oblivious to the world around her suddenly lifted her head in alarm. Sue followed the child's gaze to the tree line.
Shivers ran down her spine as she imagined him staring at them through his black visor. She tried to sit upright, hindered in her progress by her huge belly. Krissa came to seek refuge in her arms, and she held her tight, hoping for him to disappear, to leave them alone. As on cue, he rode away on his motorcycle.
Jack was tucking his shirt in his pants when he heard her yell his name. He rushed to the bathroom. She was wide-awake and staring at him in consternation.
He knelt by the tub. "What is it, sweetheart?"
The bubbles were long gone and he couldn't help but admire her body, her cheeks blushing a darker shade of red under the intensity of his gaze, her neck curving graciously, beckoning his lips to follow, her breasts, tender and swollen from their little one, her hands, resting over her belly, slowly parting to reveal--
"Where does that come from?" he asked in astonishment, reaching to caress the little bump he swore wasn't there this morning.
"I think baby thought it was getting too crowded," she chuckled. "He decided to make room."
"That's my little one," he said, nodding approvingly.
"And he kicked," she added, her eyes twinkling with excitement, waiting for his reaction.
"Really?" He scooped some water to pour over her little tiny belly. "No wonder baby is kicking. He's rebelling. You're giving baby a cold bath." He reached for the towel. "Bath's over before you both freeze," Jack said, wrapping her in his arms.
"Why are you all dressed up, Jack?" she finally noticed, nuzzling his neck.
"Because I have a date with my wife tonight." He lifted her head before allowing himself to taste the softness of her lips.
"Shouldn't that be dessert?" she murmured as his lips travelled to her neck, the towel holding precariously between them. "And dinner smells really good."
The aroma from the kitchen entered the bathroom.
"You go get dressed. I will be waiting for you downstairs."
She eyed her little black dress fondly, the memory of their first date flooding her mind. Her hands smoothened the fabric along her new curves. Jack was right, where did that come from? Did baby just pop out while she was dreaming? There would be no denying baby's existence after tonight. She thought about their families and friends, and how much she wanted to share her happiness with them, but for their safety and the safety of their baby they couldn't take any more risk.
Jack stood mesmerized by her appearance. The black dress, that fitted heavenly four months ago, showed his wife and child in all their radiance.
"You're absolutely stunning," he murmured, offering his hand as she reached the last step.
He led her into the kitchen for a romantic candlelight dinner.
"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."
***
The more Tara reviewed the evening, the less it made sense.
More than once she had to force her attention back on the road. It would do her no good to end up in a ditch or in the hospital. No lights were coming from her apartment when she pulled in front. She almost turned around to head towards Myles' place, but it was Valentine's Day, she wasn't going to ruin it for him. She imagined him having a romantic dinner with some classy woman. She sighed. When did she start fantasizing about Myles' love life?
When her own husband was unavailable for the evening, leaving her in withdrawal, she answered chuckling. It had not been that long, yet she couldn't recall what her life without Bobby was like.
"Lonely, boring..." She threw a few more adjectives at the door as she unlocked it. She made herself a hot chocolate, and debated between a long bath, or some more research on the computer.
While she soaked lazily in the tub, her mind juggled the pieces of the puzzle. How did she manage to be caught off guard by Connors? She knew better than to attract attention on herself. The music, she recalled, dreamily.
It never occurred to her that assistant directors would play music in their offices. Somehow it contrasted with the stern, austere, demanding picture she had of them. Why was opera harder to fathom than classical music, she wondered. Maybe because of the voices, or the language. She smiled, conjuring in her mind the image of the imposing tenor, the diva soprano, the...
Her hands hit the water so hard, it splashed all over the bathroom floor.
"Soprano," she repeated out loud.
During his phone call in the alley, Langley addressed his interlocutor as soprano. It was a long shot, but what if Connors got that nickname because of his musical taste, but then it would be common knowledge, wouldn't it? Her spirit plummeting once more, unless Langley simply used it in reference to the music in the background?
She was stretching and she knew it. Connors wouldn't be stupid enough to make those kinds of calls from his office, would he? Or maybe from his car? Why was she suddenly reaching? Because Connors made the hair on her neck stood up straight, that was why. And he knew her name. No hesitation. Maybe he was good at remembering names, still...
Why did they eliminate him from the list? Because he couldn't walk, she recalled. The man was a legend, and he had been in a wheelchair for... for... forever as far as she was concerned. So, he couldn't have gone up those stairs, could he? She quickly dried herself before grabbing her robe and heading for the computer room.
J. P. Connors, the director's personal adviser, she read. She scrolled down his qualifications and achievements. Computer analyst. Sniper training. Special Operation specialist. CIA attaché. There was a picture of him shaking hand with the President. According to the headlines, Connors was a rising star. The bullet he took that saved the President but left him a paraplegic, turned him into a hero, but also prevented him from ever aspiring at the director's office chair. Still he rose higher than anyone expected him to, she kept on reading.
Tara leaned in her chair, searching her memory. Did Myles say Connors overheard Davis talking about Jack and Sue? She grabbed the phone.
"Tara, it's two in the morning. Don't you have a husband to keep you busy?" Myles grumbled.
"Myles, I need to see you now. It's important," she implored.
"I'm listening."
"Myles, your place or mine. I don't care."
The urgency in her voice not lost on Myles.
"I'm on my way. You better make it worth my trip," he said, not caring if someone was listening or how it could be interpreted.
***
"You said it yourself, Myles," argued Tara. "Connors was one of the few who were privy to Davis' attraction to Sue. He was in the elevator when Davis was asking if Sue was seeing someone. Connors had all the right information, and the means to manufacture any evidence to match his claim. He took the investigation away from us. He gave it to Osborne knowing full well he would botch it. We thought Osborne had Connors in his pocket. I suspect it's the other way around, and Connors is using Osborne to muddle his track. And Langley calling him Soprano, it might have tipped Connors--"
"Stop." He lifted his hand, very tempted to press it against her lips.
She was all flustered from talking almost incessantly for the last twenty minutes.
"Please, take a deep breath." Though he hardly uttered two words, he took one as well since she made his head spin. "Let's assume you're right on every count, it still doesn't give us the shooter. And don't say Connors or Osborne," he warned her.
"Maybe Connors found a way inside Jack's apartment, or he got Osborne to do the dirty--" She effectively stopped when Myles stared at her in exasperation. "Okay, with his track record, I wouldn't trust Osborne to kill an agent for me," she conceded. "Except you have to admit Connors makes perfect sense."
"Except for the fact he cannot walk, and he has no motive," Myles pointed out, wondering why he got out of bed.
"Who has no motive?" asked Bobby as he came in. "Good night, luv," he said, kissing his wife.
"That's my cue to leave," said Myles.
"Not yet, mate," Bobby said, pulling his wife on his lap after sitting at the kitchen table. "I learned something interesting tonight."
"Not you too? Soon I will start lobbying to be paid overtime," Myles muttered. "Can you make it quick?"
But before he could begin, his wife filled him in on her eventful evening. Bobby listened and agreed that while all the clues nicely pointed towards Connors, the small detail of him not being able to walk was in fact a big obstacle.
"Glad someone else is logical tonight," said Myles.
"Fine," she surrendered. "But I'm telling you there's something fishy about Connors." She intended to keep him on her screen despite Bobby and Myles' objections. "What did you find?" she asked, turning her attention on her husband.
"Do you know I'm the first outsider DEA allows to participate in a raid since last year incident?"
"What incident?" Myles forced himself to ask since Bobby seemed determine to play twenty questions.
"A year ago, DEA were raiding a warehouse. It was supposed to be a routine operation," said Bobby.
"There's no such thing as routine operation," commented Tara.
"Could you please let your hubby finish?" he asked irritably.
"What did you do to him, luv?" Bobby smiled at his wife, ignoring the dark look Myles sent in his direction. "You need to sleep more, mate," he observed, but continued before Myles could utter a reply. "We had an agent on their team. The nephew of the director. He died, along with two DEA agents the night of the raid."
"How come we never heard of it?" wondered Myles, out loud.
"It was kept hush-hush," said Bobby. "DEA made an important drug seizure, but somehow a rival gang heard of it and ambushed the DEA team after they retrieved the drug. Like I said three men ended up dead. DEA suspected a leak."
"From our side no doubt," guessed Myles.
"Yes, but they recanted the accusations and dealt with it internally after the bank account of one of their dead men showed a substantial deposit."
"A crooked DEA agent?" The thought brought a smile to Myles' face.
"Another dead body who cannot defend himself," said Tara. "Isn't that a tad too convenient? Is there a link to our case?"
"I'm getting there, luv." As he tightened his hold around her waist, her back leaned comfortably against his chest.
"He's taking the scenic route," remarked Myles.
"You need to see the big picture, mate."
Under different circumstances, Myles would agree with Bobby, except tonight the only thing Myles wanted to see was his bed. "Go on."
"My partner was part of the original team. The rival gang was waiting for them, knowing exactly when, where and how they were going to strike. They were taken by absolute surprise. He remembered retrieving a drug sample from a crate, before the fire erupted and the drug was stolen. Coincidentally the sample disappeared from our evidence room shortly after the incident."
"We're so efficient," Tara observed sardonically.
"We are, luv, because it got tested, and my partner saw the report, before it also conveniently disappeared," he added. "Low grade cocaine with the same additive found in the coke on Langley's body."
"Hold on your kangaroos, Bobby. Your partner just happened to remember that detail?"
"Yes. You saw the analysis result, Myles. It was an unusual mixed. The drug would be almost worthless in the street. My partner couldn't comprehend why a gang would go through that much trouble just to retrieve poor quality cocaine."
"They might not have known at the time the drug was under quality," ventured Tara.
"That was my partner's assumption as well. But that's not the point," Bobby emphasized. "If his memory can be trusted, the drug found on Langley would have been the same one stolen from our evidence room a year ago."
"So you're thinking that whoever leaked the information to the rival gang, also stole the drug, kept it in case it came handy, then planted it on Langley to make him look like a drug dealer and divert our attention from the fact he was in fact an agent undercover trying to expose the same whoever," finished Myles, the full circle strangely making sense in his head.
"Which brings us back to Connors," Tara exclaimed excitedly.
"It does?" both retorted at the same time, staring incredulously at her.
"Of course. Think about it, guys. How many people would know about the raid enough in advance to sell out the operation?" she argued, following her own logic. "The guys on the fields usually learn about it at the last minute for the sole purpose of preventing leaks. Our dead DEA guy may have been framed just like Jack and Sue. Like I said, dead people cannot talk."
"For the sake of the argument, let's say you're right," sighed Myles who was developing a major headache. "Wouldn't the DEA suspect foul play? I mean they're not as incompetent as we like to think they are," he said, giving them some credit.
"What if they did suspect foul play? What if Langley was working undercover for them?" she surmised. "What if they know their dead man wasn't the leak, just like we know Jack didn't kill Davis?"
"See, mate, my little wife has a good point there."
Myles couldn't argue that one, so he let her continue.
"Officially, DEA dealt with it internally and killed the investigation in order not to spook our bad apple. While in reality, they could be doing exactly what we are doing right now."
"Okay, I will buy that, but it doesn't make Connors walk," pointed out Myles.
"For all we know he could have crawled up the stairs to Jack's apartment," sighed Tara.
"That's farfetched, luv. I don't see the guy sinking that low."
"He killed junior. That's even lower," Myles reminded them, warming up to Tara's theory. "Except we don't have a shred of evidence against Connors or a motive."
"I still say money, mate. Our guy has to have a very nasty and expensive habit. You need to find it, luv, for that theory of yours to stand a chance to fly."
***
For as long as Sue remembered, early morning had always been her favourite time of the day. She would sneak out at dawn and sit on the deck to watch the nature wake up. Even in her silent world, early morning seemed extra quiet, more peaceful.
With the morning dew still present on the ground, the first bird would land on the wet grass in search of breakfast, unafraid of the small girl watching him.
Sue sighed contentedly, her hands caressing her little belly. It seemed baby shared his mommy's favourite time of day, or his father's passion for early workout, smiling at the thought. Since he started kicking ten days ago, she found baby more active in the morning when her own body was still at rest, and the last vestige of sleep still lingered in her hazy mind.
She felt an extra hand coming to join hers, and tilted her head in Jack's direction.
"Morning, honey."
"Morning, sweetheart," he responded, snuggling closer. "Baby's having fun?"
She nodded. "Lots."
"Do you think he would mind if I borrow mommy for a kiss?"
"Not the least."
She met him halfway, losing herself in the sensations his hands and his lips were awaking. He scorched every inch of skin he touched, or stroked, or kissed, leaving her gasping for air. His name on her tongue felt so sensual when she mouthed it in his ear, unsure if she made a sound or not.
He looked into her eyes filled with unconcealed love and passion. If it was possible, he would say he loved her even more with each passing day. Her hands sensually ventured along his body, her caress alternating from bold one moment to hesitant the next. They were still discovering each other, taking their time, enjoying the intimacy they shared.
"I love you, Sue." He spoke her name, the need to tell her as strong as the desire to show her as much.
Resting his head over her stomach after love was quickly becoming a wonderful new ritual. She ran her fingers into his hair while from the corner of his mouth he peppered light kisses on their little one hoping to catch a glimpse of movement.
"Baby is kicking, Jack," she whispered, her voice soft and loving.
He knew very soon he would be able to feel it, too. Baby just needed to get a little bit bigger and stronger, and mommy was doing a great job at making sure he was well fed and taken care of.
"I dreamed about baby again," she whispered. "He was sleeping in the crib. He had curly brown hair and big brown eyes. He was beautiful, Jack."
He lifted his head. She was looking through him, seeing the baby. He moved to lay over her. She chuckled when he rubbed his nose against her, the image fleeing from her mind.
"You could be dreaming about our baby, you know," he said, wording the thoughts that troubled both their minds ever since baby started kicking.
"You think so?" she asked seriously.
"Honestly? I don't know, sweetheart. Are you still seeing the mysterious man on the bike?"
She shook her head. Lately she was only seeing the baby in the crib, the same crib that was in the small bedroom, the crib they knew belonged to the Carson's if the pictures they saw were accurate, the crib who supposedly never held a baby boy.
"Jack, what if this is over?" she wondered. "What if I missed the point?"
"I don't understand, sweetheart," he said, listening attentively.
"I started seeing the bike after Rosie told us about the stranger, and the baby after our little one made his presence known," she said. "What if my imagination is simply running with the information it processes?"
"It's possible," he agreed. "Except, it doesn't explain how you knew about the caves, or Krissa's picture, does it?"
"I just don't know where reality stops anymore, Jack."
She closed her eyes, the images filling her mind. He kissed her tenderly, glad when she melted in his arms.
"I love you, Jack."
His love enveloped her just as securely as his body did.
"You want to talk about it," he asked moments later, since she stayed rather quiet about her dreams all week.
"It would help, right?"
He nodded, before rolling on his back and taking her with him. "I'm listening."
"It was warmer the other way around," she teased.
His answer was to pull an extra blanket up and let his hands roam her bare back.
"This is a great mystery we have here, sweetheart, and I would be lying if I say I don't like trying to solve the puzzle."
"Something doesn't make sense, Jack." Lots of things didn't make sense and she was glad when he didn't argue. "I reread the reports this week. Remember when Patrick said he couldn't think of anyone who would want to hurt his family? Why didn't he mention the biker? If this is Amelia's memory I'm having and not a dream, he would make a good suspect. He was stalking them. And Amelia was scared, I could sense that much."
"Unless Amelia never told Patrick about the mysterious biker," ventured Jack. "Sue, would you tell me if someone was watching you while you are outside playing with our children?"
"I... I..."
Hoping she indeed would, he raised his brow when she hesitated. "Talk to me."
"I think I would, unless I felt I was overreacting," she said after seriously analysing her answer. "I mean... I wouldn't want you to think I was afraid to go out just because someone happens to drive by our house and stares at us. Unless she did tell him..."
"And he dismissed her fears as ridiculous," finished Jack. "I wish we could talk to the man." He regretted saying it as soon as he saw the twinkling in her eyes. "Oh no, sweetheart, we are not going to the penitentiary."
"But we could write to him and ask him, couldn't we?" she pleaded with him. "I would also like to know what their little boy looked like, Jack."
"Maybe Chuck knows," replied Jack, searching for a compromise that ruled out the penitentiary. "Maybe Patrick told Chuck's doctor brother some more about his son."
"Could we go in town? Pleeeeeeeease?"