After a detour to visit Andy, Bobby parked in front of Tara's.
"We didn't leave the lights on, did we, luv?" he asked, pulling out his gun.
The door was unlocked. Bobby winced when he creaked.
"Drop the gun, bush boy," ordered Myles who was sitting on a chair facing the hallway.
"Myles! Do you have a death wish?" Bobby holstered his gun. "How did you get in?"
"Tara, you do need to invest in better locks," remarked the blond agent.
"Thanks, Myles, for breaking in." She threw her coat on the couch. "Did you get a copy of Dusty's prints?"
"Of course, Tara." Smiling enigmatically, he retrieved a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Julie, the nurse, was more than helpful."
While he sent her to make copies of Dany's medical files, he broke into Dusty's. Within minutes he had everything he needed.
They gathered into the computer room where Tara positively matched Nowen's fingerprints to Dusty Langley.
"Could you confirm he was undercover, mate?"
"Of course not, but how many agents are subjected to a full physical and psychological evaluation before being granted temporary leave of absence?" He smiled when his two colleagues exchanged a knowing look. "My thought exactly."
"I bet mom's timely departure sealed the undercover."
"Bobby! That's... that's..."
"Luv, I'm not saying the bureau expedited the poor lady. They probably had a few candidates and the circumstances more than favoured Langley."
"Mom dies. Son takes time off to mourn," said Myles. "No one suspects another agenda."
"Then they create Nowen. Give him a shady past and connection with the military. My guess is someone else besides us suspects we have a bad apple upon our mist, maybe from another a case we missed. But for whatever reason, they used Langley as a bait, dangling military secret at the end of the hook."
"Hold on here, Tom Clancy. Are you suggesting those gun blueprints are phoney, and the military is somewhat involved?" Myles asked, staring dubiously at Bobby.
"Not sure how the military got mixed up with it, but the blueprints are still in the evidence lockup. We stopped by Andy tonight," Tara said. "And he says if he had been inclined he would have them memorised by now."
"The military never retrieved them?" That surprised both men equally. "What are they? Amateur?" Myles sighed. "Nice way to blow a cover."
"They probably figured the cover was blown when Langley turned up dead anyway," pointed out Tara.
"I can see you two discussed that already," Myles said before they both nodded. "Are you going to tell me Jack and Sue were... are part of it?"
"See, mate, Jack had a solid alibi that night," Bobby informed him, recounting their meeting with Carl Maddox. "But Sparky still disappeared after he received a mysterious phone call."
"We think he was warned to stay away in order not to compromise the operation," said Tara.
"It seems to me their operation is more than compromised," Myles said, frustration building up. "Their operative is dead. Davis is dead. Jack is framed for murder by... whoever. You two don't think they are using Jack and Sue as bait to fish him out, do you?"
Myles stared in disbelief at Tara and Bobby when they exchanged a knowing look.
"There are three of us in cyber space, Myles. And I have the impression the chase is not over yet. I doubt the leak inside the bureau has been identified. Jack and Sue may be in protective custody."
"As highly entertaining as that is, you both realise this is purely speculative."
"Not purely, Myles," corrected Tara.
"Let's say I buy." Myles rolled his eyes. "Where do we go from here? Do we let whoever is in charge of that undercover operation handle it?"
"Over my dead body, mate," retorted Bobby. "They already screwed up once. I'm not letting Jack's and Sue's fate in their hands."
"Well, at least we agree on that," said Myles, relieved. "But I think we need to refocus our effort. Wouldn't figuring why they were framed more productive than proving their innocence? And it seems to me it all started with that call to Sue after we raided that warehouse."
"On a tip from one of your snitches, mate," Bobby reminded him.
"Who I haven't heard from ever since," he pointed out, something he would remedy.
"We need to concentrate back on the original investigation," agreed Tara. "Start from scratch. See what we missed."
"Without Osborne's knowledge," added Bobby. "Not that it should be too difficult. He practically shelved the investigation, concentrating solely on Jack and Sue."
"Thank goodness for small favours and incompetent agents," muttered Myles. "And the timing couldn't be better, a month before Christmas. What? I always get Mother a painting for the holiday, in case someone asks."
After Myles' departure, they cuddled on the couch.
"We are way over our heads, Bobby," she sighed, the beating of his heart against her ear an anchor she held on to.
"I know, and I feel so useless working with DEA," he said, his hand running through her silky blond hair.
"Just keep your ears open, Bobby. Remember when we found Langley's body, we mistook him for a drug dealer. The drug had to come from somewhere. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that we were reassigned, maybe someone wanted us where we could unravel the mystery."
"I like how your brain works, luv." He brushed kisses along her hairline. "What?" he murmured stunned, when she chuckled.
"Men are usually afraid of my brain," she admitted softly.
"Their loss, my gain," he replied huskily, his lips trailing across her cheek to the corner of her mouth where he tenderly nibbled his way across.
"Bobby," she sighed, frustrated by her futile attempt to capture his lips.
"I love you, Tara," he whispered swallowing her reply.
They had driven back from her parents early in the morning, only to head directly to work. Stolen moments were all they were granted the three days they were on the ranch. He missed having her to himself, feeling her petite warm body against him. The way her touch ignited his senses, like her fingers were doing now, skimming over his bare chest leaving scorched marks, which made him aware his shirt was hanging loosely over his shoulders.
"Time to go to bed," he whispered, scooping her up in his arms. "You're a she-devil in disguise, luv."
Her lips brushed his chest as he carried her to her bedroom before gently lowering her down. She stared at him intently as he sat beside her. Only a few buttons were left undone on her shirt and he quickly took care of them, kissing the new flesh he exposed, noticing the pink happy faces on her bra. He slid her pants off her hips and grinned. She always wore matching sets.
"Stay here with me tonight," she whispered, her request made softly.
She never invited him in her bed before, only occasionally sharing the daybed with him when she inadvertently fell asleep in his arms. She gazed hazily at him, her fingers pushing his shirt off his shoulders before exploring his body. He stopped her when she reached his pants.
"We're playing with fire, luv."
Not that it was the first time, but so far they avoided getting burned. Except tonight they were both exhausted and not thinking straight.
"I need you to hold me tonight."
Against his best judgement he dropped his pants on the floor before joining her, wrapping her in his arms. "I love you, Tara."
"I love you, too."
Catching her runaway hands, he placed them over his chest. "Behave, luv," he chuckled. "We're not married yet."
"And what is your hand doing resting over my..."
"Keeping you warm," he grinned. "Are you going to sleep or talk all night?"
He chose not to tempt fate by offering her the third option, which was the one his body was screaming for.
"Good night, Bobby."
Cuddling closer seriously made him reconsider waiting for Jack's return before tying the knot.
"Sweet dreams." His face buried in her hair, he began reciting the alphabet, backward, skipping every other letter...
***
The close encounter with the two federal agents only served to remind Jack and Sue how precarious their situation really was. The cold and rainy weather turned out to be the perfect excuse not to venture in town the following week. And when the wind picked up and the temperature dropped, changing the rain into snow, even the little warm cave became cold and inhospitable.
"We should go back, sweetheart," Jack suggested, holding the lantern to his face, after placing a hand over her shoulder.
He was beginning to shiver in his jacket, and feared she didn't fare better if her cold hands were any indication. They needed to go shopping for warmer clothes now that winter was around the corner, thinking his full closet in DC would come handy at the moment.
"I found it, Jack." Her eyes shone with excitement, she fingered the outline of the drawing without touching it. "What do you think?"
He approached, placing his lantern opposite hers as not to create shadows. It was near the lower part of a wall. Sue was watching him studying the drawing.
"Bicycle?" he wondered, spelling it with his fingers at the same time.
"And what do you make of this stick person?"
The bicycle was two circles attached together with a line in the middle, and from that middle line she'd drawn a stick person. One vertical line for the trunk with a circle for the head, and two little perpendicular lines for the arms.
"Krissa riding her bike?" he guessed, not better at riddle than at drawing.
"I don't think so, Jack. See over there." She showed him people near a house. "The tallest would be her dad, just tiny little lines for hair. That's her mom, a little shorter person with long hair."
He was amazed to be able to see the difference.
"Now, that would be Krissa, much shorter and long hair. Do you notice they all have eyes and a smile?"
"Yes, but you see her with short hair," he argued. "It still could be her on the bike, assuming that's a bike," which he wasn't completely sure.
"It does look like a bike, Jack. But look at the face. It's completely covered, darkened."
Like Krissa had held the chalk with her fist and furiously coloured the inside of the circle missing the lines.
"Helmet?" he suggested.
"Did kids wear helmets twenty years ago?"
He opened his mouth and closed it. He had no clue.
"And the helmet wouldn't cover her face, only her hair. Krissa has been showing me that picture for weeks, Jack. It has to hold some significance." Sue's hands came to rest over her stomach, slowly massaging her baby.
"Time for a break." Taking her hand, he led her home.
Jack lit another fire, reminding himself he needed to get more woods in. While she napped, he would chop some while giving Levi a chance to enjoy some cold air.
"Sue?" He lifted her chin towards him before she drifted to sleep. "You rest, sweetheart. I will go outside for an hour with Levi."
She let Jack lower her down on the couch, her head resting on a pillow they left there for the occasion. He covered her with an afghan, and by the time he was dressed to go out she was peacefully asleep.
He watched Levi visit his familiar trees and leave his scent after the rain and snow washed it away. Keeping the dog in his corner vision, Jack took the axe and got to work. The cracking sound of the wood splitting and falling sideways from the axe was drown by the heavy wind. Once his rhythm was established, he let his mind wander.
He wasn't certain when he first noticed it, but every time she talked about the drawings, her hands instinctively came to rest over her belly in a very protective manner, just like she did again today. Was she mimicking Amelia? Was there some significance to the gesture? He would ask her once she woke up. Maybe a trip to the library was in order. He recalled Rosie saying she used to ride her bike in those woods before the murder. He doubted the teenage Rosie made it all the way here, it would have been quite a ride, still it wouldn't hurt asking.
Sue stood on the porch wrapped in the afghan. Sleep still lingered in her eyes despite the hunger that woke her up. Her stomach had behaved in the last couple days, and she found herself craving snacks more and more often. Her little one was doing fine, she guessed, rubbing her belly, a contented smile on her lips. She watched Jack take another swing. He made it look like so easy and effortless. Her mind wandered. She was happy with him here. She knew eventually she would share him with the world again, but in the meantime, she was grateful for this time alone, and the chance that was given to them to build their relationship.
When she focused on him again he was standing right in front of her.
'Daydreaming about me', he signed, grinning.
"Maybe," she replied, biting her lips but not quite succeeding into hiding her smile. "Are you done?"
He glanced at the heap. "Still have to stack them along the house."
"Can I help?" she offered enthusiastically.
"Certainly not, sweetheart."
"But--"
"No hard labour with baby," he replied before kissing her.
She was warm, and her lips were soft.
"It won't take long, I promise. Levi!"
The dog came running to the house and followed Sue inside.
If he had known the only way to win an argument with his stubborn partner and wife was to get her pregnant and mention baby, he would have done it three years ago, grinning at the thought as he hurried to stack the logs.
***
Jack asked her about rubbing her stomach every time she saw the drawing.
It was an unconscious gesture, Sue told him. Strangely, the dreams about the drawing continued. She paid more attention to her hands on her huge belly, not that the belly was really hers. To a certain extend she found she could direct the dream and focus on certain details. And as the week went by, without being able to explain why, Sue became increasingly uncomfortable with the notion that Krissa knew about the bike.
When they stopped by the library to chat with Rosie, they encountered the elderly gentleman they saw at church the previous weekend instead. The man loved to talk. Decades ago he was the librarian. Then his wife got sick and they moved where she could receive adequate care. After she passed away he decided it was time to move back. He now lived with his son and daughter-in-law.
"But don't worry, I'm only filling in while Rosie is visiting her mother and spending the holidays with her. The poor lady fell on the ice and broke her hip. Rosie should be back in a month or so. Anything I can help you with?"
"We're curious about the Carson's murder, and we like to discuss it with Rosie," Jack offered as explanation.
"You must be the writer. I guess curiosity comes with the territory. I'm Chuck," he said, pointing at his nametag.
"Matt Johnson. And this is my wife, Becky."
"The expecting mother." He laughed when she blushed.
"Nice meeting you, Chuck. Did you live here when the murders took place?"
"Yah, that was a tragedy. The only murders to ever occur in this town," he recalled, sadly shaking his head at the memory.
"Do you think he killed his wife and daughter?"
"Maybe he did, maybe he didn't, but Patrick certainly didn't help himself."
"What do you mean?" Sue asked.
"In your condition, you should sit, young lady, it could be a long tale." He winked at her as he also sat down. "That's better. That morning, Patrick came in town looking for Doc Shay. How long would you say it takes you to get in town? Forty-five minutes?"
"About right," said Jack.
"So an hour and a half back and forth, add another half hour to look for Shay," estimated Chuck.
"Assuming he headed back immediately, Patrick would have been gone less than two hours," counted Jack. "Not much time to kill and dismember someone."
"That was also the opinion of the experts that testified," said Chuck. "Though how they figure out how long it takes to cut someone up is beyond me."
"When did the police think he killed them? Before he went to fetch the doctor or that afternoon waiting for the doctor?"
Chuck tilted his head. "I don't think the police was ever able to establish that fact for certain, Matt, though Shay had his opinion."
"Which would be?"
Jack could see her eyes shimmering as she asked the question.
"Shay thinks labour may have started and Patrick tried to deliver the baby. Something went wrong. He panicked and disposed of his wife's body."
"Doesn't explain what happened to Krissa, their little girl," pointed out Sue.
"No, young lady, it doesn't, not that it mattered because Patrick denied it. He stuck with his story that his son was born a few days earlier and the little fellow had problem nursing. That he came back to a bloody house, searched it before following the trail to the cliff and just stood there, wanting to jump. See what I mean by not helping himself. The jury didn't buy his aberrant behaviour."
"Did you know the doctor well?" asked Jack.
"You could say that. Shay was my younger brother. That crime haunted him until he died five years ago. He felt responsible for not being there that morning." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "That maybe he could have prevented it."
"I was under the impression there was no physical evidence a baby was ever born," recalled Sue. "What made your brother think otherwise?"
"Shay noticed the crib had sheets in it, and a laundry basket of fresh diaper and baby clothes was waiting to be folded. He speculated they were ready to welcome the baby."
"It could also indicate a baby had already been born," she argued.
"Or that Amelia was anxious to get organised," Chuck replied evenly. "She was eight months pregnant."
"What was Patrick's motive?" questioned Jack.
"He didn't have any, still the jury convicted him," said Chuck.
"This is very circumstantial," commented Jack.
"It is, but someone obviously killed that poor woman. And according to Patrick himself, he never saw anyone lurking around the house, and couldn't think of anyone wanting to harm his family. Patrick was the only one with the means and the opportunity."
"But it would have been so easy for Patrick to stage an accident and get away with murder," Sue imagined.
"Yes, but crimes of passion are rarely logical, or premeditated, sweetheart," Jack pointed out. "Which is why the killers are usually caught."
"Very good, Matt."
Her mind travelled in a different direction. "Did Patrick work in town?"
"Yes, he was a mechanic. A darn good one too."
"Is he still in prison?"
Chuck looked Becky in the eyes. "Yes, he is. He got a life sentence. He was denied parole last year because he still insists he is innocent."
***
Bobby was the last person Myles expected to come knocking on his door a Saturday morning. Granted, it was late Saturday morning, still it was unexpected.
"Myles, we have a problem." He rushed in as soon as Myles opened the door.
"Well, good morning to you, too, Bobby. Would you like to join me for brunch?" he replied sarcastically.
He sniffed the aroma. "It does smell delicious, mate."
"I was only being polite," Myles retorted, stopping Bobby in his track. "Go home and apologize to Tara for whatever you did, she may forgive you, and feed you."
"Tara and I already had breakfast. She's out shopping with Lucy for her wedding dress."
"Lucy is buying a wedding dress," Myles exclaimed in astonishment. "Aren't she and Ron only friends?"
Yes, only friends, thought Bobby, but the kissing friend type if last evening was any indication.
"Not Lucy, Tara. We're getting married at Christmas at her parents' ranch," Bobby announced, having called her parents over breakfast with their plan.
Her mother was ecstatic. Tara's second or third cousin from her dad's side was a minister. He gladly accepted to perform the ceremony, Tara's mom had informed them when she called back twenty minutes later.
"Weren't you supposed to wait for Jack and Sue?" Myles glared at Bobby, suspicion creeping in his mind. "There isn't a kangaroo in the pouch, is there?"
"A kanga-- of course not," he replied forcefully. "Tara and I just decided life was too short to wait any longer."
Myles arched a brow. "I see."
The temptation was too strong, Bobby thought, though he kept that reason to himself. They'd gone out with Lucy and Ron for an evening of dancing in that charming restaurant. The food was delicious and Tara was enticing in her little black dress. The light was very subdued on the dance floor. He remembered his hands skimming over the light fabric feeling the heat from her skin. And the soft brushing of her lips near his throat and down his open shirt, his tie finding its way into his pocket early in the evening. When he'd glanced in Lucy and Ron's direction he realised they too were too busy to pay attention to the couples around them.
When Bobby had taken her home, the music was still playing inside their body and their mind. Tara granted him one last dance and he wrapped her in his arms, swaying under the silent melody. His hands ventured under her dress, finally touching what they sought all evening. The softness of her skin. And when he thought she couldn't look more stunning, the little black dress slipped to the floor to reveal even sexier black undergarments. Any rational thoughts vanished when he captured her lips, moulding her petite figure perfectly against him. Her bed welcomed their embrace, neither having any inclination to fight the wave of passion washing over them. He remembered her words whispered softly to his ear, carrying through his hazy mind, and the one that seized his attention. 'When?' At that moment, he chose to keep the promise he made his fiancée, but answered 'Christmas'.
"You'll be invited, Myles," Bobby assured him. "But I'm here for a whole different reason."
Myles rolled his eyes. "You don't say. Okay, what's the problem?"
"I went to pay Jack's rent this morning, and--"
"You're two weeks late, Bobby," noted Myles. "I bet the landlord was happy."
Jack's landlord had hit the roof after a murder was committed in the apartment.
"So happy he didn't even take the cheque," Bobby said, his voice rising. "He's kicking Sparky out."
"Just for a little blood on the floor?"
"It's not funny, Myles. He's giving me till tomorrow night to clear the apartment or he's getting rid of Jack's belongings."
"What?" Myles shouted. "You and Tara are paying for Jack's rent." Just like he was paying for Sue's portion of her rent to help Lucy. "The landlord has no rights to evict Jack."
"The landlord won't have a fugitive renting in his building. His words, not mine," said Bobby. "He's breaking the lease. We need a storage place."
"Ten days before Christmas?" Myles sighed loudly at the improbability of finding something.
"Tara and I were thinking your basement."
Myles silently glared at him.
"We're that desperate," insisted Bobby. "We're crowded as it is with my stuff in there."
"See, that's when keeping your apartment would have come handy. Instead you moved in with Tara last weekend. My back still hurts by the way."
"Trust me, mate, last thing I was planning on doing this weekend was to move more furniture. D is picking up the truck as we speak. He'll meet us at Jack's in one hour."
"Fine," he agreed, resigning himself to more hard labour. "You can pile everything in my basement. Jack is going to owe us so big when he resurfaces. I'll call Ron, Freckle Boy and Curly Brown. Might as well ruin their weekend too."
***
"Sir, call from the hospital."
Syto observed him discreetly. She knew the small smile meant good news, not that they were getting many since the beginning of this assignment. Then he frowned ever so slightly, and she wasn't sure what to make of it.
Ted grabbed a coat. "I'll be at the hospital. Agent Davis woke up."
"Is he fine?" It would be such a nice Christmas miracle, she thought.
"The doctor said no permanent brain damage."
"Does that mean he's fine?" she repeated, confused by the answer.
"That's what I want to know. You know where to reach me."
"Sure. But at the rate this case is unravelling, sir, I'm thinking I'll be ready for retirement by the time we solve it."
She wondered if Agent Garrett would grant her a few days off to visit her family over the holidays. She would wait till his return and see in what kind of mood he was.
***
While sipping on his coffee, Myles stared at what used to be his orderly basement. And refused to dwell on the fact Jack's place wasn't empty yet.
"So much for a quiet and pain free Sunday," he muttered, his sore muscles complaining.
Moving furniture and boxes down the stairs because the building had no elevator had been no easy task. But doing it while annoyed tenants incessantly climbed up and down hindering their progress had been frustrating to no end. It left Bobby and Myles wonder how a stranger could roam the building without being noticed, especially since a few tenants remembered seeing Davis the night of the murder. The landlord strongly suggested they used the emergency exit located near Jack's apartment to limit the disruption. One challenging run down the steep and narrow staircase with a dresser brought them back to the main entrance. Facing the wrath of the obnoxious landlord was much better than breaking their necks. Still, the effort gave them an answer as how the intruder inconspicuously got inside the building. No one ever used that emergency staircase.
Of course, mused Myles, strategically placed cameras would have been too handy. That landlord was seriously grating on his nerve. He looked at Jack's lease agreement, and found a two-month notice clause. He confronted the landlord with it. The landlord argued he gave notice the night of the murder, not his fault if Hudson wasn't available to take it. Myles was very tempted to sue his pants off.
The phone interrupted his litany.
After two weeks, Myles had given up on the director of this specific art gallery to return his call, working on a contingency plan instead. But suddenly the man was willing to meet. This afternoon. Myles agreed without hesitation, then called Bobby.
"Answer, Bobby," he willed as he listened to the fifth ring.
"Hello," a sleepy female voice greeted.
"Tara, it's Myles."
"Do you know how early it is?" She squinted her eyes to look at the clock.
"I have to leave for Philadelphia."
"Why are you going to Philadelphia?"
"Who's going to Philadelphia, luv?" Bobby asked, having waken up. "What time is it?"
"Six o'clock. Myles is--"
"Could you two cut it off and listen?" he grumbled.
"No need to be grumpy, Myles," Tara observed with a smile.
"I will drop my house key to your apartment so you can finish moving Jack."
"We'll be here," she replied, distracted by the butterfly kisses Bobby trailed along her bare shoulder.
That they would be there, Myles had no doubt. That they would be up was another story.
"See you in thirty minutes."
***
"Warm mitts." Jack gave Sue a red pair. "And a scarf."
He wrapped it around her neck, before indulging in another lingering kiss.
"It's getting warm, Jack," she murmured against his lips.
He noticed, too, and the two layers of clothing they donned fifteen minutes ago wasn't helping. The thought of shedding everything crossed his mind more than once since he decided to surprise her with this excursion.
'Time to go', he signed, after taking a step back to look at her.
She was grinning in anticipation, her cheeks glowing a nice shade of red.
"You're not going to tell me, are you?" she asked again, but he shook his head. "How about telling baby?"
Her eyes widened in a sweet innocent expression.
"Cute, sweetheart." He chuckled. "Levi! Come, boy."
The dog left his warm spot by the fireplace.
It was snowing out and the wind was blowing, giving a new meaning to windshield factor. But as soon as they entered the woods, it nicely warmed up, the wind losing its vigour through the branches.
"It's beautiful," she exclaimed, eyes lifted towards the white sky. She opened her mouth and a snowflake or two melted on her tongue. "Is it what you'd call a romantic walk?"
She liked the idea, but wondered why Jack was carrying his axe.
"I would like to call it a Christmas family honoured tradition," he said solemnly.
"And what does that tradition involve exactly, so I can explain to baby what his old man is up to," she quipped.
"Old? Did you say old?" Dropping the axe, he reached for her.
She couldn't dodge his attempt at catching her for very long and found herself lying on a blanket of snow with Jack as a quilt.
"How about young, handsome and charming?" he teased, holding a handful of snow over her head.
"You wouldn't," she dared. "Jack?"
She squirmed under him as flurries descended on her. His chest was trembling from his laughter.
"You're squishing baby," she muttered, making him laugh loudly.
"Baby likes being squeezed between mommy and daddy, sweetheart," he teased her. "And don't go changing the conversation." With his hand full of snow, he loomed closer, his mischievous grin reaching his eyes. "Repeat after me. Young, handsome and charming."
"Young, handsome and charming," she whispered huskily, leaving him wonder how she could modulate her voice so perfectly. "Exactly how I picture Jack Hudson Junior."
Ducking against his shoulder, she felt his mitt stroke her cheek and she peeked. He was grinning at her, the snow thrown back on the ground.
"I hope he looks just like you," he said, his brown eyes shining brightly. "I love you, sweetheart."
His lips quickly warmed hers up.
"And I love this tradition," she murmured in the kiss, only to have him pull away, taking her with him.
"We need to get going if we want to find the perfect tree," he said matter-of-fact, brushing the snow from their clothes, and paying particular attention along her curves.
"Are we Christmas tree hunting?" she asked, suddenly assembling all the clues, almost jumping up and down.
"What did you think the axe was for?" He chuckled when she shrugged. "You keep your eyes open."
"Not too big, Jack." She scanned the woods as Jack picked up his axe. "So it fits in the corner of the living room between the window and the couch." Her voice carried her excitement through the woods. "And not too bushy, so the ornaments can--" She turned towards him with a panicky expression on her face. "We have no ornaments, no lights, no stand, no--"
He placed his mitt on her lips to silence her.
"I found a stand and a bucket in the shed," he revealed. "And we could go in town tomorrow and buy decorations for our first Christmas tree."
He was delighted when a huge smile lit up her face. She truly outshined any Christmas trees he ever saw.
"Baby and I will be ready bright and early," she promised. "What do you think of this one?"
She pointed near where Levi was lying in the snow.
"Too skinny. Come."
He took her hand into his. This would be their first Christmas together as a family, and he intended to make it memorable.
***
Flying would have been so much easier, but driving left no trace, and raised no suspicion. Hours later, Myles found himself stopped in front of a magnificent house an upscale suburb. A butler led him to the den, reminding him of his parents' house.
"Agent Leland, I presume," the art gallery director said, politely inviting him to sit. "May I offer you something to drink?"
He accepted the crystal glass since he wasn't on duty, and as far as everyone knew he wasn't even in Philadelphia.
"I know this is a delicate situation," began Myles. "And I appreciate your collaboration." Although it didn't seem forthcoming, thought Myles.
"I have to admit I wasn't too impressed by your efficiency, Agent Leland." His tone of voice matched his words. "I was contacted months ago by a young agent named Davie, or Davis, urging me to have a closer look at my artefacts. I contacted that agent back, but when he failed to return my calls I hired my own private investigator."
It surprised Myles the call wasn't redirected to Osborne's team, unless it was, and Osborne decided not to check the lead. Either way, it played in Myles' favour.
"Agent Davis was killed in the line of duty shortly after talking to you," Myles stated bluntly. "And unfortunately, he wasn't buried with his phone."
It effectively silenced the director who had the decency to look sorry.
"And since you finally extended me this invitation, I must assume your private endeavour was unsuccessful," Myles concluded.
The man reluctantly nodded.
"Okay, I'm listening, but start talking," Myles strongly suggested.
Six months ago, the director had sent five paintings for restoration. To his annoyance, they were returned a day late without any apologies. After examining them carefully he determined two were frauds. The director graciously provided a very short list of people who knew about the restoration. And he also shared with the FBI agent that he heard of a museum in Connecticut who missed the opening night of a private exposition when their paintings were mistakenly shipped at the wrong address. Myles remembered talking to that curator who strangely didn't report anything unusual.
Blissful ignorance was underrated, sighed Myles.
He knew if anyone could find the common link between the art gallery and the two museums, it was Tara. He gave her seventy-two hours, and wasn't disappointed when she invited him for supper on the third night.
"Time you got here, mate," Bobby said, taking Myles' coat.
"I stopped by Lucy. Did you know Ron moved in?"
"Really?"
"They're only friends," yelled Tara from the kitchen. "He took Sue's room," she continued once the guys made it to the table. "According to Luce, he finds it way more comfortable than his buddy's couch."
Both men exchanged a dubious look.
"Don't go get any wrong ideas," she warned them.
"I believe you, luv." Bobby didn't need to be reminded of the own private arrangement. Four days, he counted, and their good night kiss would only be the beginning of their cuddling and not the end of it.
"I can just see Jack's and Sue's heads when they come back. Thank you," Myles said, taking the plate Tara offered him. "Sorry Jack, but you've been evicted. And Sue, there's a stranger in your bed."
Tara and Bobby chortled.
Myles rolled his eyes. "I doubt they'll be laughing."
"Maybe Sparky and his fair lady will move in your basement, mate."
"Jack would need to make a move on his fair lady first," observed Myles pragmatically. "Maybe we need to take our time solving that case."
"We don't have a couple years, mate. I won't survive in DEA that long," sighed Bobby. "I'm as welcome there as a dog on a bowling alley. I'll just beat Sparky over the head when he gets back instead."
"And get Sue to nurse him back to health," quipped Tara.
"Well, since you two have it all planned, would you share what you found?"
"I found out their insurance companies require to be notified when masterpieces leave the premises. The museums and gallery have to provide the length and purpose of the removal, and the additional security measures taken during this time."
Myles stared at Tara. "You mean there's a file somewhere entitled ROB ME, containing those details."
"I didn't see ROB ME on it," she teased. "All their insurance companies are a subsidiary of the same organisation. Through my computer at work I hacked into that organisation database. The files are heavily encrypted. I was able to partially decipher a small one. It gave the list of the items affected, specific dates and place, and security agencies involved."
"It would be very easy to fill in the blanks and set up an ambush somewhere, without anyone realising it," surmised Bobby. "Especially for someone working inside the FBI."
Tara nodded in agreement.
"The question becomes who has access to those files. Someone inside the mother company?" pondered Myles.
"No, the way this is setup, no one in the company has access to all the files, but for some reason, we do," she said.
"WE?"
"The top brass at the bureau," Tara said, before giving Myles a list with two dozen names on it, mostly supervisors, Assistant Directors and directors. "Those are the only persons with the necessary clearance level to fully access those files."
"My reaction, too, mate," Bobby said when Myles whistled.
"And what about those two names at the bottom?" Myles asked.
"Computer experts who, to my knowledge, could possibly hack into it as well." Tara didn't know many experts who possessed her expertise.
"I see." He read the list a second time. "And how many of those people have the expertise to manufacture the evidence against Jack and Sue?"
"The names in pink." She smiled at Myles. "As far as I know."
"Pink? Of course." Myles rolled his eyes. "I knew they were colour coded for a reason. Motive?"
"Money?" ventured Bobby. "Or maybe blackmail?"
"Those men and woman have exemplary records," Myles said, reviewing the seven pink names.
Six men, one woman, either Assistant Directors or tactical unit supervisors.
"It has to begin with that list, Myles. He finds out about what is available, secures buyers and stages the substitution. Except something went wrong in the last attempt. Maybe an accomplice got greedy or careless, and the fake paintings ended up in that warehouse instead of being returned to the museum. We investigated, gave regular reports, which he used to eliminate anyone we successfully tracked down. Someone else also suspected an inside leak," Tara said, her mind jumping from one idea to the next. "Langley did hide the blueprint inside the warehouse."
"He had to know the paintings were there, luv."
"I agree, Bobby," she said. "And I bet he was closing on our mystery mole."
"But the mole got to him first," remarked Myles. "And to deflect the attention from himself, because he knew whoever Langley was working for would investigate, he framed Jack and Sue for his murder."
"Doesn't make sense, mate, because Langley's boss would know Langley wasn't blackmailing Jack and Sue."
"Maybe in a twisted way, it does make sense, Bobby," Tara said. "He perfectly framed Jack for both Davis and Langley's murder, right? What if he planned it that way so Langley's boss would be forced to step out from the shadows in order to prove Jack's innocence?"
Both men pondered her idea.
"I know it's farfetched," she continued, "but it would be one way for him to identify whoever was closing onto him before it was too late. Except it didn't work because Jack and Sue got away."
"So we discreetly investigate the pink names?" Myles concluded, putting an end to Tara's speculations.
"Yes, Myles, we do, but we're not eliminating the black names just yet."
Myles took one more look at the list of main suspects. Augusta, Carberry, Connors, Hutching, Monteiro, Pederson and Sielsky.
D would never be able to protect them if they screwed up, Myles sighed deeply. Their careers would be over.