Fractured Mirth
part 16
"He isn't talking," Bailey offered, haphazardly throwing up a tired hand, as he wrung it lightly through his hair. "What have you got?"
"Nothing....at least, not anymore. We've got a team down there right now cleaning up what's left of our star witness," Rachel Burke sided, crossing her arms over her chest, as she threw him both an irritated and exhausted glare.
"He's dead," Bailey said softly, his eyes widening briefly, as he took a seat at the small table beside him, laying a hand flat on the metal surface, professing a deeply etched sigh.
"He's the only one who knows who killed him and right now he's little more than wallpaper," John agreed, shaking his head. "That's gotta be something, doesn't it? To go from being the big bad's henchman to nothing more than a pile of goop?"
"This is serious," Rachel reminded him, raising a perturbed eyebrow in his direction.
He merely held up his hands, offering a lengthy shrug, as he took a silent step back. "Hey, I was only trying to lighten the load."
"Dammit," Bailey hissed. "He's probably had guys on us since he blew up the rental. There's no telling what he might do if we-"
"It was your choice to come back," Rachel objected, "and we're going to finish this now, one way or the other. He can only get so far, Bailey. We analyze his next step and we're right behind him. We'll catch him when he's got his back turned. Even the best of them lose their touch, right?"
"Um...Rachel?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, John?"
"Isn't it kind of hard to screw up if one believes themselves to be the devil incarnate? I mean, this guy is literally personified to the max."
"I thought you didn't believe all that hype," she randomly tossed back at him, positioning a hand securely to her hip.
"Well, no, see, that's the thing. I don't. But it's clear the other, more supernatural party does, and if we're going to make this work, we can't be stupid and take chances. We can't assume magic will save us."
"And what about wits?" she challenged him.
"Is it possible to outwit Satan?"
"Where's Cole?" Bailey interrupted, carefully removing a cigar from the upper pocket of his suit, as he carefully lit it, tensely inhaling a bit of smoke, as he shot a glance down the hallway of the empty building, his eyes resting on the closed door he'd only emerged from minutes earlier.
"He's with the guys in Duane's room," Rachel confirmed. "Phoebe and George also just managed to stumble upon a new lead with the photos, and with the way this is going, I'd say we're going to have that clever son of a bitch nailed solid by the time this is over."
"Got a hammer?" John offered, shooting her a winning smile.
"Hypothetically speaking," she mused, throwing him a mocking expression.
"And maybe he's killing them for nothing," Bailey added, as he blew out a stream of smoke. "Robertson was a stand-in, and he obviously didn't want those girls to have a savior. Someone else was going for the big one the whole time, and we were only after him."
"But he wasn't necessarily the wrong guy," John pointed out. "He was a part of it, Bailey, and like it or not, I'd say the bastard deserved to fry for his crimes, even if he didn't directly commit them."
"Maybe so," he admitted, calmly tilting his head. "But we'll never get our answer now, John. They've got us pegged."
"Yeah, and maybe he already gave us everything we needed to know."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, he targeted me personally. He knows all about us. Probably even more than Jack did. He knew my feelings, Bailey. He was dead on about my past....my mother. He wanted me to look beyond what was really there."
"For what?"
"That's just it, I don't know. But what...what if this guy- whoever the hell he is, is already posing as one of us again, trying to catch us as easily as he did when Robertson spilled the dirt for us? He knows we're not going to recognize him, because we aren't trying hard enough."
"Oh, for God's sake, John."
"I mean it, Bailey. We might think we've done everything we can, but the truth of it is, we're nowhere near him. We can't master disguise, and he knows it."
"And that's the problem," Rachel concluded.
"What?"
"Disguise," she murmured. "Who's the only one here who can meet him halfway? Who'd have him fooled enough to think we might just be on his side? Want what he wants?"
"Is this like good angel, bad angel?" John volunteered. "Because I'm not very good at this game."
She nearly smiled. "You don't have to be good. You just have to know the trade."
"Which is?"
"Cole," Bailey whispered, lightly crushing his cigar into the ashtray on the table before him, allowing a soft grin to spread over his face.
"Bingo," she added, satisfied with herself, her face beaming with an inkling of pride.
"Okay, whoa. Hold on. Slow down. There is no way in, pardon the pun- hell I am going in with that guy if he's going to turn into the boogeyman and scare the crap out of me."
"You're backup," she told him, her features finally breaking into a smile.
"How about backing out?" he suggested hopefully. "Wait. Do I by any chance have to wear a costume, too? Because that would really suck."
"C'mon, John, this is a good plan, and you know it."
"I know of it, but it doesn't mean I have to participate in it."
"You've got the skills, he's got the face. What more do you need?"
"How about me not turning into Robbie back there, for starters?"
"Chicken," she muttered.
"Under normal circumstances, you know I'd be more than willing."
"I'm sure you would," she noted, blowing out a breath, as she brought a hand lightly to the back of neck, calmly stretching it.
"This guy's human, Rachel. He can't be anything else. Cole's playing you for a fool, and he's got you, hookline and sinker. That's all there is to it."
"He's dangerous, but he's smart," Bailey sided. "Exactly what we need."
"Yeah, I think you already-"
"John, we could use you on this."
"That's not what you said before," he carefully remarked, offering Bailey a slightly irritated glance. "In fact, I was actually led to believe Cole was much more the man for the job than I am."
"Either way, Duane Robertson had two triquetras carved in his palms," Rachel cited, "and give or take, you can't tell me something human put them there, and was able to peel his skin back from his body in the time alloted. That would take hours- good, solid hours that this guy didn't have a lot of. It practically happened in the blink of an eye."
"The killer obviusly couldn't find a balance in him," Bailey noted. "The female victims have been different."
"Yeah, well Duane was a victim too," she pointed out. "Just not your usual run of the mill. Bailey, I really think he's going for the kids next. The whole package. He's looking for a place that's specifically designed for them, and he's going to manipulate the environment according to his needs. It's like John said. He wants those that will never be worthy, but wants it to look like they were, if only because they've been chosen."
"Twisted," John added. "Twisted, and...did I mention disturbing?"
"A park," Bailey suggested. "A theater."
"And we've still gotta locate Jack Dobson yet, don't we?"
"Dobson?" he questioned.
"Paulina's husband," he brought forth. "Robbie said he was more than he seemed, that he was in on something Paulina didn't even know anything about. I asked him about the nitwits we found in black- well, actually Cole took care of that for the most part back at that..." He cleared his throat. "Well....anyway....my guess is Robbie was only speculating. But regardless, there's still something up with this guy who seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth without leaving so much as a pile of dirt in his wake."
"Maybe because it wasn't the Jack she knew," Rachel countered. "Maybe she realized she really didn't know him at all?"
"You mean like he was the killer and he was hiding it from her all that time?"
"No. I mean as in our guy. We're still on board with shapeshifting, right?"
John took a breath. "Does it even matter what I saw anymore?"
"It does, if you think Darryl's capable of murder."
"I never said that."
"No, but I'm sure a part of you was still thinking it."
"And how would you know what I'm thinking right now?" His blues narrowed considerably, as they bore into her, his lips somewhat parted, as he took a single step in her direction, his composure beginning to falter.
"Maybe Robertson was right about you," she whispered, her eyes gleaming just as cold againt his, as she crossed her slender arms over her chest, her expression one of subtle defiance.
"Meaning?"
"You're obviously too damn uptight where this investigation is concerned," she retorted. "If you feel you can't handle it, maybe you should step down now, because that body count sure as hell isn't going to decrease, John. It'll keep rising until we do something about it, and that something has to be now."
"Upright, really?"
Bailey simply pulled out another cigar, preparing to light up, as his nerves slanted towards the edge, offering a faint roll of his eyes, as he did his best to stay out of it, gently tagging his cell phone beneath the layers of his suit. "Children, please, we'll be late for school."
"I want to know what you meant by that," John urged, ignoring him completely.
"Oh, you're breaking my heart," she whispered, gritting her teeth.
"I'm going to call George and inquire about public facilities in the area," Bailey noted, his voice entirely calm, as he heaved a brief sigh. "You two can stand here and annoy each other until your hearts are content, but seeing as Phoebe already knows San Francisco pretty well, I'm going to enlist her help in this. Because, truth be told, maybe it's suddenly escaped both your minds that we have two missing women to account for. Two missing women who could already be dead if we don't start to act on this."
"Yeah, and I told you I'm on it," Rachel breathed.
"Glad to hear it," he added, mocking surprise, as he threw her a short grin.
"You've got my vote," John tried, his face still a mask of puzzlement, as he shot Rachel another glare, literally wearing it right through her. "Even if I still seem to have trouble accepting the fact that pseudo Satan wants a life."
"You're just as bad as Cole," she hissed.
"What a flattering compliment," he quipped. "Because with all due respect, I guess I must finally be doing something right."
"No, see, Cole's determined. He's useful." She paused a moment. "Ever since you were knocked on your butt, and I....we thought we lost you, you've been shying away from it like the plague. You almost caught Phoebe in a bind, and you refuse to cooperate when asked. I need you, just as much as Bailey needs you, John. It's getting bad. And if you can't deal with that, because you can't see beyond-"
"You were really that worried for me?" he interrupted, raising an amused eyebrow, as he felt the sides of his mouth curve themselves into an equally amused smile.
"It's just like you said. We've been with each other so long, that you just start to think of-"
"I can take this on without guilt," he mused. "Moreover, I don't feel sorry for myself, Rachel- I don't even see why it should matter worth a damn. You've kept me sane this entire investigation, haven't you?"
"And now they're playing nice," Bailey added into the phone, his voice lowering, as he kept the grin plastered to his face, quickly shifting hands. "You would've thought I was gearing up to witness a performance of The Young and The Restless. Yeah....yeah, George, I got it. Check the educational landmarks too, would you? Schools, community centers, that sort of thing. Yeah, let me know what you come up with, alright? Great."
"He's not going to go for somewhere that's entirely public vacinity," Rachel murmured, upon hearing the conversation came to a halt. "He wants privacy, as well as community."
"I've got George on the works," he assured her. "He'll report back within the hour. But in the meantime, I think it would be wise for us to see what's going on in the other room, and see if our guy left behind anything else we should concern ourselves with."
"Yeah, good idea," Rachel agreed softly. "I mean, who knows? Maybe that's where John left his pride."
"Oh, you're going to pay for that one," John countered, pointing a strong finger at her in accusation, both eyebrows raised in bewilderment, as he began to follow behind her.
"You're a little behind schedule yet though, aren't you?"
"And that'll cost you double."
"I'm shaking now," she confirmed, laughing.
"Hey, given the circumstances, if you hadn't come along, I would've jumped into that pit headfirst to save Phoebe, no questions asked. I probably would have busted up a few more ribs, but hey, what's a few more to land me in the hospital again, right? I'll take it like a man. I always do."
"You overexaggerate way too much."
"Is it working?"
"I can only meet you halfway."
"Oh, well that's good. Hey, practice makes perfect, you know."
"I get the impression that you're actually beginning to enjoy our fights."
"I do. More than you know."
She quietly smirked, unnoticed, as she boarded the elevator.
"I'll haul Albert back into custody, and I'll meet you two down there," Bailey noted.
___________
Miles away, the figure slowly brought herself up into a sitting position on the dirt floor, her tired hands wiping listlessly upon her khaki's, as she struggled to get a reasonable glimpse at the surroundings above and below her. Paige Matthews was closed in complete darkness, the body of her half sister lying perpendicular to her, as she did her best to calmly make her way over to Piper Halliwell's unconscious form, dried blood lingering along her jawline, fighting to gain a steady, solid grip. She guessed she probably also had a great many bruises to answer for as well. She could vaguely recall the fight she'd put up, but the mere memory of who'd won, chose to escape almost as soon as it had entered her mind, her defeated sense of purpose unwilling to surrender to it. "Piper?" she whispered. "Piper, are you alright?"
She hadn't even begun to lay a finger on her sister's arm, when the menacing footsteps plowed through the shadows, enveloping her entire body with a lurid bolt of fear, as she immediately backed herself up against a brittle stone wall, her breathing increasing with each slap across the dry pavement.