Fractured Mirth
part 6
"So give me something."
Rachel Burke studied her opponent, a small smile creasing her pretty face, as she toyed with a French fry before putting it into her mouth, an eyebrow peaked out of curiousity. "Give you what, exactly?"
"It's your turn," he noted. "So let's have it. If I'm going to play this little undercover game, I'm going to need something on this Duane Robertson."
"Robertson's tricky," she managed. "The only reason he's been able to escape the law, is because he thinks he's smart."
"I don't understand."
"He feeds us false leads, false hopes....he's been at all of our throats, and yet we've still got an inch left to move in for the kill, because he almost always disappears. Kind of like Jack of All trades."
"Jack..."
"Sam's stalker," she explained. "He was good. Too good. For awhile he slipped right by, even though his crimes would make front page news. The guy was a genius...in the most disturbing way imagineable."
"And you're saying Duane measures up to this other guy pretty well?"
"I wouldn't necessarily say that," she commented, shrugging. "I mean, Robertson supposedly doesn't just focus his attention on one particular area of interest, hence his variety of children or women. But I've told Agent Malone that I think he's merely trying to save them the torment of a terrible childhood...the little girls, anyway. But it's quite possible the young women could have also been experiencing unknown forms of abuse that were never present on the body at the time of death."
"And though he has in fact targeted these woman...these little girls, you....don't have the mind to believe he killed them." He paused a moment, as he took a sip of the soda in the glass across from him upon the table. "Then tell me, Miss Burke....how do you make up for the fact that victims have suffered and families have grieved?"
"There's more to it than that. You can't just place the blame with so many holes...so many....unanswered questions. These things take time."
"Yeah, and as you already informed me, that's not exactly your strong suit, is it?"
"You know, if you're hoping you'll get on my nerves even worse than you already have- and that I'll think about dropping you from this case...."
"I'd be sadly mistaken," he brought forth with a slight smile, his visage covered with only mild irritation.
"Okay, look. When you were a child, didn't your mother teach you about not hurting others, not bringing harm to others? Did you learn that early on?"
"I'm sorry to say my childhood left with me a taste for killing," he mused carefully.
"I don't...."
"It was demons, for the most part. I'd be told what I had to do, and I'd do it. What do you think The Brotherhood really stood for, Miss Burke?"
"The point is, Robertson would witness his father beating his mother. It wasn't like he had a choice."
"So you think he developed a craving for his own method through these beatings."
"To do others harm," she emphasized once again.
"But that's got to take a hell of a long to time to-"
"The woman were found, for the most part, facedown and lying in a deep pool of blood. The only signature that's been left for us to even remotely identify, has been the symbol that's been cleanly carved- also in blood....upon their backs."
"Symbol....."
She roughly yanked a napkin free from its holder, fishing a pen from beneath her coat, laying the piece of white down upon the table with great ease, as she began to run the utensil over it.
"Well, I didn't know you also had another talent I was surprisingly unaware of upon our meeting."
She rolled her eyes. "It was a series of three....well, I guess the official term is a triquetra. At least, that's what the research told us. It's supposed to be-"
"Wiccan related," he told her, his voice just above a whisper.
"No. Actually, I was going to say it represented something called the Trinity."
"Trinity?"
"The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Unbroken, it signals a form of eternity."
"That...that can't be right," he continued. "I just...it's the same....are you sure this is what you found?"
"The gruesome details don't lie," she assured him. "We had George do a bit of a background check....power, honor, and glory."
"What?"
"The Holy Spirit is combined of those three things. From what we deduced it to, it also appears on the Bible itself," she reasoned. "The Christian, New King James. But...if you want to argue about that in terms of Paganism, then you might be surprised to find that it tells a story of life, death, and rebirth, coinciding with earth, air, and water."
"It's on the Book of Shadows," he told her plainly.
"The Book of what?"
"Phoebe and her sisters have a book in their attic that represents this exact same symbol. For them, it's completely good and makes them who they are. When separated-"
"Hold on." She put up a hand to silence him, as she stared at him in a rather peculiar stance of disbelief, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "First of all, I never said that it was harmful. In fact, you're right. It's exactly the opposite."
"They're using good to promote it for an evil cause," he surmised. "It's typical. The question is, what would Duane be doing with the triquetra, and what kind of value does it hold for him?"
"If it's Duane."
"Right. Discount nothing." He bit into his burger, allowing a napkin to cleanly wipe his chin, as he briefly cleared his throat. "So what's next? I mean, before the carving ritual. Does he beat them, gag them-"
"Scares them to death?" she suggested hopefully. "A few had knife wounds, and the rest had puncture wounds."
"Vampires?"
She laughed. "Oh, so you believe in those too?"
"Well, if the shoe fits, by all means." His smile had grown fairly amused again, and he bestowed the amusement onto her with little to no trouble at all.
"Right." She frowned at him, as if she were searching for something, twisting the straw wrapper suddenly through her fingers, finally crumpling it into a tiny ball, and threw it aside, watching as it hit a barrier at the salt shaker. "I meant needles."
An eyebrow arched itself rather high, as he drew in a bit closer, gently pushing his plate aside. "Well, that's new."
"Do demonic...entities often use needles?" she prodded, her expression completely blank now.
"A triquetra and some needles. Sounds like your killer is more into injecting his victims with poison than anything else....maybe hoping magic would cure it by the use of the symbol."
"But that doesn't make any sense. Besides, why would Robertson do that? He knows the pain he went through when he was growing up. It would be logical to assume he'd just want to pummel, to pull out a gun, at most- this isn't any of those things."
"Logical, but not impossible. Young women are vulnerable. They seek men out when they're feeling lonely, in despair. It would easy to- what have the autopsies said?"
"Whatever it is, it can't be detected," she mused.
"So if it's not Robertson?"
"I thought we already agreed that these guys aren't human?"
"But as you just pointed out, humans kill all the time."
"Look, you're still taking me in-"
"Circles?" he prompted. "Hardly."
"Then what would you call it?"
"Well, first I'd start with two guys striking up some kind of deal across the street."
"Excuse me?"
"Turn to your right."
"What? Why?"
"I think someone tracked us....followed us here," he stated, his blue eyes steady, as he ran a tired hand across his stubble.
"And why would they do that? Nobody knows we're here."
"And something tells me no one's going to know. Come here."
"We haven't even-" But he'd already slapped a few odd bills down on the table, gently placing his hand on her arm, as he pulled her to the back of the restaurant, noting the exit sign perched near the restrooms, his attention currently preoccupied, as he kept his line of vision glued to the rundown buildings on the other side, never missing a beat. "I thought you said you owed some guys something," she hissed, as she impatiently yanked her arm back, crossing it over her chest with the other.
"I'm willing to bet they might-"
"Yes, but we're not exactly going to be using your...powers to find out."
"You treat them like they're a disease," he murmured.
"For your information, trading notes with a demon is already against any rules my job might've had."
"And I'm so touched that you decided to share."
"I'm moving in on them."
"Agent Burke, with all due respect, that's really not the way to go about this at this point. If you just trust me, and-"
"That was your first mistake," she told him matter of factly, her eyes smoothly finding their way to his.
"And what's that supposed to-"
But she was already off, finding her weapon at her belt loop, as she threw open the door, her slender frame zeroing in on the two men, as she began to jog her way across the street of her own free will, determination having already set itself within her full force. He sighed, his composure offering a brief shrug of his shoulders as he took off after her, knowing all too well that the two of them might just end up in the ground by the time the night was over. The youngest man caught sight of her first, his frame of vision already landing upon the gun she held at arm's length, his sockets widening in disbelief, as panic began to set in. Rapidly, he smacked his companion in the chest, as he drew a long shaky finger towards her.
"Gentleman, mind if I have a word?!" she called out, fast approaching them head on now, her gaze set tightly against her pretty face.
The tallest and oldest shoved his friend's hand away from his chest, angrily directing a stare of his own. "You ain't got nothin' on us, lady!"
"Not yet," she muttered to herself. "What do you know about the allyway that's frequented near here?"
"There are a lot of allyways," he sided, grinning, as he threw his hands up in the air, holding them out as far as they would go, as he started taking just a few minor steps back, a hat covering most of his head, a sleeveless shirt revealing rather large biceps alongside his surprisingly thin stature, as a clean cut moustache sported itself right below his nose.
"I'm talking about the one where an agent went down. You must have heard about it on the news."
"Don't got time for news," he told her, still holding his smile.
"Agent John Grant was with the Violent Crimes Task Force. He was badly beaten here, and I'd like to- look, you're already wasting my time. You haven't been charged with anything, so I suggest you try and work with me here. It'll only take a couple of minutes. I'm sure one of you knows something."
"Agent? What, are you like a-"
"She's a cop, man," the youngest offered, his voice threatening to fail on him at any minute. "She's a Goddamn cop, Billy. Let's just get the hell outta here, okay?"
"Oh, and I suppose this is your backup?" he noted smuggly, turning to Cole, who'd just jogged up beside her, an annoyed stance already penetrating his handsome face.
"Ever hear of the name Duane Robertson?" she inquired then.
The youngest took off running at full speed then, followed by his friend with the smart mouth, as they tore down the remainder of the street, racing to cross it, as they just barely missed colliding with a vehicle at the intersection. A pair of keys had mindlessly dropped to a halt on the pavement, and Cole made a grab for them, while Rachel had already taken off again, tucking in her gun once again, as she began to follow their path without question, her body failing to tire from the energy, as she crossed the street at the same point the men had only minutes earlier, never falling even a little short of breath. Cole drew in a pile of air, and slowly let it out, his bottom lip forming a slight pout over the top, as he safely tucked the keys into the pocket of his jeans, bringing his shoes up to speed for yet another time, as he went after her, silently muttering curses to himself. "A woman who makes you work hard to earn her trust. Can't say I've never been there before."
"Are you coming?!" she called back to him.
He nodded, still preferring the use of an energy ball against the exercise it was requiring to get to the two men in an unending and pointless chase. He could have easily taken care of them on the spot, perhaps event mildly wounded them, before they could get any further. But it was obvious that Rachel Burke liked a challenge. She was brave, he'd give her that. She was so damn relentless, and while it bugged him incessantly, he was also faintly amused that she was willing to go the lengths she was in a town that was still quite foreign to her in every way imagineable. She didn't stop for friendly chats, and she certainly wasn't about to dispute a fairly good profile when she had one. She was about business and only business- but in her profession, he'd surmised you had to be. Otherwise, you'd probably get yourself too caught up in the moment, which is exactly what he'd done when he'd fallen for Phoebe- broken all the rules and taken himself somewhere else completely.
He groaned, as she entered a department store, throwing open the glass doors not long after she nearly tossed them right into the side of the building, her rage finding its height the only way it knew how, as her patience wore to a mere nothingness. The two men were no longer in sight, as he heard a cry come from the very back, his instincts immediately halting at a circular rack of women's clothing, a pair of feet sticking out helplessly from below. He stopped then, obviously aware that she'd missed them by a long shot, her exhaustion finally showing its signs in a rather vivid manner, as he lightly placed his arms across his chest, eyeing her up rather fondly, as he finally held out a strong hand, watching as she peeked out from beneath the fabric, blowing a string of hair away from her face, as she reluctantly took the help, watching as he pulled her to her feet with no trouble at all.
"So..." he mused faintly, a grin spreading onto his gorgeous, scruffy profile, as he gently rocked back upon the balls of his feet. "Think you might want to try and do things my way now, and quit being so untolerably stubborn?"
"I could have caught them," she whispered, her cheeks slightly flushed. "I missed them by a thread."
"Try a spool," he volunteered, laughing softly to himself. "Look, if it's any consolation-"
"If we would have done it your way, they probably would have been dead by now. They knew something, and if I could have just gotten my hands on them...."
"Yeah, but at least they would've been out of the way from doing harm to others if I could have-"
"Well, they weren't demons," she managed hopefully, shrugging.
"No, because I guess that would mean they'd magically drift off on a flying carpet, wouldn't it?"
"Your useless attempts at sarcasm are not helping right now."
"You want to work with me? You get all of me. Take it or leave it. You don't only use me when you need an opinion, or when you think you can handle things yourself- you don't know what's out there, and you proved that tonight."
She glanced at the slight tear at the front of her sweater, as she placed her hands on her hips, tilting back her head to look at him. "Does that mean-"
"If you're asking if you're at all my type," he reasoned, another smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "you'd be sadly mistaken this time."
"Oh, is that what you think? You think that in all the time we've been spending together pertaining to this case, that you actually do anything but make my skin crawl?"
"And now that that's settled, I have to get to Phoebe. She might've been able to find something, and I really don't think we'll be getting anymore clues out here....right now...so..."
She was quiet for a beat, as she heaved a prolonged sigh. Her eyes grew a bit faint, as she pursed her lips, her expression winding down, as she took a step forward. "I just want to find him, you know? I want to make whoever did this to John, pay with his life. He owes him that. Cole, whoever did this just got on with it and left him there. They never even bothered to have a shred of dignity to make sure he escaped with his life."
"Maybe because they didn't care," he whispered. "It wouldn't be the first heartless group of people that've crossed your path. Especially not in your line of work."
"But if I would have just been out there with him-"
"And for a woman who wants to plead for Robertson's innocence, you still don't strike me as being too sure of yourself."
"That's not for you to decide."
"All I know...is that this triquetra is obviously important to these people...." He carefully reached into his pocket, recovered the set of keys. "As well as these."
She looked at them, her eyes slightly widening out of surprise. "What? Where did you get those?"
"Some of us use the rule book, but we tend to mix it with our own agenda."
"Think they might go somewhere?"
"It's worth a shot. Only problem is....I wouldn't even begin to know where to start."
"I've gotta get a hold of Bailey," she stammered, as she bit her lower lip rather quietly, her gaze once again preoccupied in concentration.
"So I take it we finally have a solid agreement."
"What are you talking about?"
"We have to tell each other everything. We can't hold back, if we're going to get somewhere with this. We have to be open and honest."
"You sound like one of my high school counselors," she remarked, shooting him a glare.
"Is it working?"
"Phoebe said she gets visions too, right?"
He nodded. "That's right."
"Well, what if-"
"Already one step ahead of you," he murmured, dangling the keys from his grasp, as he held the door open for her. "Of course, we could question the store clerk, but then again, I suppose that's what you would've done, had I not been here."
"Okay, just how much are you planning on mocking me out for this tonight?"
"Depends on how stubborn you really are."