1985
The first day of school was always weird for Jocelyn, but this year felt weirder than most. Two important things had changed over the summer. The first was that her grandmother had died. It wasn’t a tragic death, or unexpected; she’d sat on the back porch on the 4th of July and watched the kids set of firecrackers and light sparklers. She’d laughed until her eyes glistened with happy tears. In the morning, when they went to wake her for breakfast, she was dead.
It was just the way life went, Jocelyn’s mama said. People grow old and they die. Grandma’d been sick the winter before, just the flu, but she hadn’t bounced back. She was just old, worn out. Ready to go home.
But it was weird to think she wouldn’t be sitting in her chair in the corner of the kitchen when Jocelyn got home from her first day of school.
The other thing that had happened over the summer was that Jocelyn had, in her grandmother’s gentle words, gotten her growth. She’d shot up three inches taller, but hardly anyone noticed that. What they did notice was that the skinny little girl suddenly had decidedly womanly curves.
Or, as Jocelyn’s trampy older cousin put it, tits and ass that would stop traffic.
Jocelyn’s mom had made sure that she had clothes that covered everything, that were modest , even though it stretched the family budget. But the girl still felt self-conscious as she set out for school that first day. Exposed. Obvious.
Remembering her cousin’s comments didn’t help.
She met up with Toni and Angela at the end of the street and they started across the woods together. It wasn’t really much of a woods, just a few dozen skinny trees in the middle of a big vacant lot. There had been some kind of factory there once, fifty years ago, but now it was just rocks and weeds and scraggly trees. All the kids from Jocelyn’s neighborhood cut across the woods to school, unless it was muddy. Then they had to go around. But on the first day of school it was dry and warm.
The neighbor boys were just behind them in a pack. In Jocelyn’s grade and the one ahead and behind there were seven boys, compared to just the three girls. Sometimes the older kids walked with them, and or the younger kids, but these ten from the street were always together.
This morning, Jon’s older brother Zach was walking with them. He was three years older than Jocelyn, and he had beautiful pale green eyes. He was the hottest boy in the hood, and he damn well knew it. He’d never paid any attention to the younger girls before, but Jocelyn saw his head snap around when he saw her.
He wasn’t the only one. But he was the only one he cared about.
She knew exactly what her grandmother would have to say about the way that boy looked at her. She kept her eyes down and just stuck to her girls. But it was hard not to notice that Zach walked close behind her. She could feel his eyes on her ass. It made her uncomfortable. But she wasn’t sure she didn’t like it.
She knew she shouldn’t like it.
Up ahead, the little kids started to squeal and point and a couple of them ran away.
Jocelyn and the bigger kids ran toward them. By the time they got there, the little kids who’d stayed were in a loose circle around something on the ground.
Jon said, “Ooooh, gross, man!”
Angela turned away. Toni grabbed her arm, but she kept looking.
Jocelyn stared down at the body.
She was “ had been? “ a young black woman, maybe twenty. She was slender, had long legs. Her hair was in cornrows. Her nails were long and painted bright blue. She had on one shoe, a black sandal with a skinny heel. She had a short purple skirt. She had a white blouse, but it was torn open. She didn’t have a bra.
Zach breathed, “You can see her titties!”
Jocelyn glanced at him. Then she looked back at the body. She could see the woman’s breasts. She could also see the ground beneath her, through the hole in her body where her heart should have been.
One of the other boys says, “Wow, cool.”
“No!” Jocelyn said firmly. “Not cool. Not cool.” She dropped her backpack and dug out her jacket. Mama had made her take it because it might rain later. She moved closer and put the jacket over the woman’s body. It would get dirty, bloody, and Mama might be mad “ no, she wouldn’t. She would understand.
She turned to her girls. “Angel, you live closest. Run home and tell your mom to call the police.”
The girl just looked at her.
“Go!” Jocelyn snapped. Her girlfriend ran “ in the right direction.
“Damn, girl,” Zach muttered, “calm down.”
“I want to see her titties again.”
“Don’t you touch her.” Jocelyn glared at the boy. He was one of the little ones, and she didn’t know his name. It didn’t matter. “Nobody touch anything.”
“What, you a cop now?” Jon teased.
“C’mon,” Zach said. “I don’t need no trouble with the cops. I’m going to school.”
The group began to break up, following his lead.
Jocelyn looked toward the school. It was only two blocks away. If she stayed here much longer she was going to be late. Mama would be mad about that, even if she didn’t mind about the jacket.
She looked at the remaining circle. Most of them were the smaller kids. “Go on. You’re going to be late for school. Get moving.”
They left, reluctantly. Toni stayed next to Jocelyn. “You should go,” she offered.
“I’m stayin’,” Toni whispered.
Zach stopped at the edge of the field, and the group stopped with him. “Hey, Jocelyn. Come on. Leave that skank and come on.”
Jocelyn looked up at him. Even from a distance, those pale green eyes were beautiful. And he knew her name. He’d never known her name before. Never even known she was alive.
He knew her name.
“You comin’?” he called again.
She could just go. The cops were on their way. The girl was dead; there was nothing she could do for her.
Except the cops wouldn’t know about the woods, wouldn’t know that no one ever walked through here except the school kids. They wouldn’t know that the boys on the football team had walked through her yesterday afternoon, so the body couldn’t have been there then. There was a lot she could tell them about the woods, and the neighborhood.
The dead woman had probably been there all night, alone. Jocelyn didn’t feel right about leaving her alone now.
She heard her grandmother’s voice in her head, as clear as if the woman was right beside her. Well, Jocelyn? Are you going to do what’s right, or are you going to chase after that pretty-eyed boy?
She looked at Zach and shook her head.
“Freak!” he jeered. He and his friends laughed, and they went on to school.
“Freak,” Jocelyn whispered. It hurt. First he knew her name, and now he called her freak.
“He’s an asshole,” Toni whispered back to her. “Maybe the cops will be cute.”
Jocelyn looked at her without raising her head. “You ever seen a cute cop?”
“Well … no.”
“Firemen,” Jocelyn said. “Firemen are cute.”
“Well, what, you want to start a fire?”
She shook her head. “I’m probably in enough trouble already.”
***
2012
Finch paced the library briskly. He wouldn’t have admitted to himself that he was pacing, except that every time he passed Bear’s bed, the dog looked up at him hopefully, then slumped back down. The fourth time he made the poor beast look up, Finch had to acknowledge that he was, in fact, pacing.
“Sorry, Bear.” He paused to bend down and pat the dog’s head. “I’m making you nervous, aren’t I?”
The dog thumped his tail on the floor sympathetically.
“I don’t know why this is so difficult,” Finch told him, straightening. “We should just go and talk to her.” He made another circle around his desk. “Mr. Reese is absolutely right, you know. I have to talk to her. I should have done it weeks ago. I should just do it. Just get your leash and go.”
The tail thumped more enthusiastically.
“But not yet,” Finch added. The dog slumped again, but the genius barely noticed. “Not just yet. After the morning she’s had …” He sat down behind his desk. “Funny thing,” he said, mostly to himself. “I promised I’d never lie to him. But to myself, I lie all the time.” He glanced at the dog again. It was comforting to not be talking to himself, precisely. “Except I’m not very good at it, I’m afraid.”
His hands shook as he reached for the keyboard. He stopped and made himself take several deep, slow breaths until they steadied. Then he composed the e-mail, but didn’t send it. He reached for his phone, and it rang in his hand.
Finch regarded the device as if it had just delivered his stay of execution. “Good morning, Detective Carter.”
“Morning, Finch. John’s not answering his phone?”
“He’s in a meeting right now, I believe. Is everything alright?”
“I just dropped off Mrs. Antonucci and the priest at the hospital. They’re going to keep her. Not much else to be done on that one.”
“We appreciate your assistance, Detective.”
“Don’t see where I did much.”
“You were a comforting presence,” Finch answered.
“Right, whatever. Listen, your girl Fitzgerald? There’s something up with her and Donnelly. They’re on a first-name basis. And way too cozy.”
Finch nodded to himself. “I am aware of the relationship, Detective.”
“And you’re aware that he’s still looking for the Man in the Suit, right?”
“I assure you, there’s no reason to worry.”
“One wrong word, Finch. That’s all it would take.”
“Detective, Mr. Reese and I place absolutely faith in Miss Fitzgerald’s discretion. Please do not concern yourself with this.”
There was a very long pause. Finch could picture in his mind the expression on Carter’s face. The annoyed mouth, the narrowed eyes, the head-tilt. ”Did you set it up? So she could keep an eye on him?”
“I did no such thing, Detective.” Finch deliberately put as much ice in his voice as he could muster.
From her tone, Carter was only marginally impressed.
“Fine, fine. It’s your funeral.”
“Thank you for bringing it to my attention, Detective,” Finch answered with finality.
“Whatever.” The phone went dead.
Finch clicked his own phone off, but kept it in his hand. His thumb hovered over the keys.
He did not have access to the surveillance cameras inside Christine Fitzgerald’s apartment. If he’d attempted to reach them, she would have been both infuriated and intimidated. But she had no problem with him watching the cameras in the café, and he’d hacked the city’s cameras outside as well. He didn’t watch her all the time, but he did look in on her occasionally, and more often since Root had kidnapped him.
He’d watched the night she went out with Agent Donnelly the first time, when she’d kissed him on her back steps. He’d also watched their two encounters after that. There had been no additional kissing except quick pecks on cheeks. It had perhaps started as a romance, but had quickly detoured into simple companionship. They had dinner together, they shared old movies at an older movie house, and they sat in the café afterward and talked.
Finch was fairly confident in his assumption that the FBI agent was the one who had quashed a more physical relationship. Christine had a somewhat alarming habit of taking any man who caught her interest into her bed. She uses sex in lieu of true intimacy, Finch mused. Given her history, that’s not surprising. It is, however, sad. Donnelly had, for whatever reason, definitely caught her interest. But he hadn’t taken her up on her offer. From his past history, Finch gathered that the agent required a good deal more emotional content with his conjugal assignations. That he needed, in short, commitment with his sex. That wasn’t surprising, either. Commitment might as well have been Ellis Donnelly’s middle name. Grudgingly, Finch had to respect him for that.
Still, perhaps Carter was right. As long as the peculiar relationship between Miss Fitzgerald and Agent Donnelly persisted, maybe he should just stay away from her. No point in taking any chances, was there?
On the other hand “ Reese had been exactly right about Christine’s unabashed impulse to help anyone who seemed to need it. She’d invited Donnelly into Chaos simply because he was sitting in his car in the rain, despondent and alone in his quest to find the Man in the Suit.
An old woman came into the café and confessed to murdering her husband. Christine’s first response was to make her a cup of tea.
Exactly as she did for me, the night I wandered into Chaos in desperate need of a decent computer, even though I once had her committed.
And if Root showed up with a convincingly sad story, Christine would do everything in her power to help her, possibly until it was too late.
Finch knew from personal experience that Root was very good at contriving convincingly sad stories.
He looked up at the unsent e-mail on the monitor. Then he looked at the phone again.
Bear stood up, padded quietly across to him, and put his muzzle on Finch’s knee.
Finch rubbed his ears thoughtfully. “You just want to go see your kitten, don’t you?” he asked fondly.
The dog wagged his tail slowly.
“Fine. If you insist.” Finch pressed his thumb down on the phone.
Perhaps she still had her cell phone turned off. She did that more than anyone he’d ever … “This is Scottie,” she said.
Finch tried to speak. The words got stuck.
“Hello?” she said again.
Bear licked his hand, just once.
“Hello, Christine,” Finch managed to say.
Her voice softened immediately, from business-friendly to simply friendly. “Hey, Random.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t called. Thing have been quite …” he stopped, because he didn’t know what to say.
“It’s okay,” Christine assured him. “How’ve you been?”
How’ve I been? I’ve been fine. Barely have any days with more than one or two panic attacks any more. Thanks for asking. Finch shook his head. “A better question would be, how have you been?”
She chuckled softly. “Yeah, I kinda figured you were up on this morning’s events. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“They were nice people. I’ll miss them. And I’m sorry they had to go through this. Especially Rosa. But … this makes sense to me, you know? Emotional sense?”
“Yes.” Finch could feel himself relaxing in tiny but steady increments. Somehow in his mind she’d become a stranger. But she wasn’t a stranger. And more to the point, she wasn’t Root. He knew Christine. He knew her well. Emotional sense, indeed.
“But it also raises this big existential question. So now I’m debating whether I should load up on philosophy books and try to logic this out, or just let myself know what I know. And that sentence made no sense at all, did it?”
“I understood it, whether it made sense or not,” Finch assured her. “The first question is, as always, what’s the question?”
“Oh, that’s easy. ‘Would you do it?’”
“Ahhh.”
“I have this overwhelming urge to stop people on the street, explain the situation, and ask them that question. I have this idea that if you knew that answer, that one answer, you’d know everything you need to know about that person. Which I know logically is wrong, but … I don’t seem to be able to quit babbling.”
“I don’t mind,” Finch promised. He loved how open she was with him. He savored the knowledge that he was the only person in the world with whom she was so unguarded. He missed their lunches together, the two of them talking tech, their words falling over each other. The way she engaged him, encouraged him. Brought him out of his own shell, just for a little while. It seemed like years since they’d talked.
It had been just over a month. Four weeks and two days, and one kidnapping by Root.
Perhaps her dinners with Donnelly were her way of replacing the lunches she had missed with Finch. Perhaps she required the platonic presence of an older man somewhere in her life, and when he stopped calling her she’d turned to the most viable substitute …
Finch shook his head. It was absurd. A more likely explanation was what Carter had implied: That she was trying to get close to Donnelly in order to find out what he knew about Reese. Finch hadn’t asked her to do that, certainly, and he never would have. But she was fully capable of coming up with that idea on her own.
It was an uncomfortable notion.
And, he realized, a foolish one. When Christine was focused on a task she was meticulous, methodical, detail-oriented. If her intent had been to seduce Special Agent Donnelly for the purpose of obtaining information, she would have done her homework. She would have known how his past relationships had formed and how they’d failed. Known better, in short, than to invite him upstairs on the first date.
No, the encounter with Donnelly not been thought out in advance. It was a whim, an impulse. With no clear goal, she could be a very impulsive girl.
Christine on-task was painfully OCD-focused; Christine off-task was Chaos Incarnate.
“And it’s weird,” Christine went on. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you called, but … I’ve spent the last ten, eleven years all on my own, doing just fine, and now all the sudden any time I stub my toe I’ve got people rushing in from all directions to help me to the fainting couch.”
Dealing with a woman who’s just killed her husband isn’t exactly a stubbed toe, Finch thought. Neither, for that matter, was being assaulted at the airport; that bruise lasted for weeks. He didn’t point those things out. Instead, he said, “You don’t even own a proper fainting couch. Perhaps I need to acquire one for you.”
Christine chuckled uneasily. “I don’t suppose there’s any point at all in telling you no.”
Finch pretended to consider. “No.”
“I don’t have room for it.”
“Then you need a bigger apartment, obviously.”
She growled very softly. “If you go for the fainting couch, nothing expensive. The kitten’s starting to scratch.”
“Ah, yes.” Finch patted Bear’s head again. “How is Smokey doing?”
“Well. We’ve started weaning, but she’s not very excited about it yet.”
“Be patient.”
“I know. She’s stupidly cute.”
“I’m sure she’s adorable.”
“I’m on the verge of becoming that annoying friend who sends you fifty funny cat pictures every day. ”
“Heaven forbid.” Finch rubbed Bear’s ears for luck. Then he took the leap before he could change his mind. “But speaking of pictures, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“I’m sending you an e-mail with two attachments. One contains several pictures of a woman. The other is examples of her coding. I need you to study them both and to keep an eye out for her. If you see her, or even think you see her, I need you to let me know right away.”
“Give me a place to start, I’ll find out who she is …”
“No!” Finch snapped. “You’re not to look for her. You’re not to do anything of the sort.”
“Okay,” Christine answered swiftly. “Okay.”
Finch exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He hadn’t meant to snap at her. And he hadn’t meant to create the sudden emotional distance he felt between them. “Christine, listen. Please just listen. I already know who she is, and she’s incredibly dangerous. I don’t want you to do anything that might attract her attention. I don’t want you to do anything at all. Just watch for her.”
Bear licked his hand again, and Finch realized that he’d balled it into a fist. He made himself open his fingers and wiggle them.
“Okay,” Christine said again. “Just watch. Got it.” She’d caught her breath; her voice was clearly trying to soothe him.
He should have gone to her in person. She’d handle it better if he was right there beside her.
“I’m sorry,” Finch said again. “I don’t mean to alarm you. But this woman is very dangerous and very wily. There’s some … remote … chance that she’ll turn up at Chaos. If that happens, if she approaches you, or if you catch sight of her on the web, anything, just … don’t engage her. Call me or John right away. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll explain everything, I promise …”
“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Random,” Christine reminded him firmly.
And she meant it. Despite her intelligence and her curiosity, and though by her own admission she had a million questions, she had never demanded explanations. She’d never even asked for them. Root had learned about the Machine and wanted to know everything about it; she wanted to control it, despite her insistence that she wanted to ‘set it free’. Christine had learned about the Machine and trusted that Harold knew best. She asked nothing. Her trust was humbling, terrifying. And wonderful.
“I will explain,” Finch said firmly, “because you need to know. Because I need you to know. But it will have to wait a little while.”
“Alright.” Her voice had gone small again.
He wanted to comfort her, to tell her not to be afraid. But the truth was that she needed to be afraid. That she could not be afraid enough of Root. It tore at his heart. But it had to be done.
“We don’t think she’s in the city,” he said, by way of compromise with himself. “And the odds are that she won’t show up for a while.”
“What does she want?”
Me, Finch thought. She wants me. If he said that, he knew, there would be no end to Christine’s questions. Or her fear. “I’ll explain everything later. I promise. Right now Mr. Reese and I are occupied with a new Number.”
“A what?”
Finch shook his head. Christine was already aware that they helped various people ”Random’s higher calling. You said it was me right now. Which implies that it’s … other people, at other times ” but she didn’t know the mechanism involved, that the all-seeing Machine identified the people in trouble for them. It wouldn’t hurt to explain that now. It was a mere detail compared to the knowledge she already had. “There’s a young man in trouble. When we’ve located him and neutralized the danger, I’ll have time to tell you everything you need to know.”
“Alright. If you need any help …”
“We’ll call you. Thank you, Christine.”
“Always … exciting to talk to you, Random.”
He smiled wryly and hung up the phone. Bear looked up at him expectantly. “Oh, yes,” Finch assured him. “That went exactly as I expected it to.” He’d scared the young woman half out of her mind, and filled her with questions he wasn’t quite ready to answer. There was no backing down now; he would have to tell her everything about Root. He knew he needed to, but now he was fully committed. In a way, it was a relief.
In another way, he was as frightened as she was.
He put the phone down and rubbed the dog’s ears again.
***
q95;
Click here to visit the official POI website 'CBS:POI'.
Click here to register and post POI fics 'Register'.
Click here to read the latest POI fics 'Recently Added'.
|