HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 27
Warnings: This Chapter: Swearing. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.
Thankyou to Lia (Cheebles) for helping out, not giving up on me & giving well needed prods. ((hugs))
Jensen sat in his usual pose, hunched over his desk peering at his screen when Misha breezed in, threw his arms around him and smacked a loud messy kiss onto the back of his neck.
“Crap! What is that for?” he rubbed the slobber off with his hand, then searched through his pocket looking for a tissue to wipe his hand on.
“Did I mention how much I love working with you, Detective Ackles? I have become a real-life, fictional movie cop.”
“Do I want an explanation?”
“I get to work with the angst-ridden and grumpy but golden-hearted, disabled detective AND I get an investigation where I get real -life thugs leaning on me with threats of harm and ruin. I was hoping they would be Mafia with the whole blacked up limousine and kidnap deal, but it turned out they’re FBI. Heavy-duty, high end witness protection type FBI and they REALLY wanted me to back off the Riordan thing.”
“So you backed off and you need me to talk to them?”
“You‘ve got to be kidding. It’s the most exciting thing to happen to me forever and it made me ever so curious, so I called in a few favors and…”
He slapped a pile of documents onto the least crowded part of the desk.
“What sort of favors? No, no don’t answer that, it could scar me.”
“I have this incredibly discreet carpenter, the stuff he can make for the bedroom Jen. Really sturdy with these attachments. People are always grateful for an introduction. If you ever want his number..”
“MISHA! I meant what I said about scarring.”
“Oh right. Anyway. Turns out there was a survivor to the Riordan massacre. They had a daughter. I found a reference to her being at the scene in the very first local report. After that, nothing, none of the other reports mentioned her. Her birth and baptism records are gone, but get this, Ma and Pa Riordan announced her birth in the local rag. Katherine Elise Riordan, born 1975, made poor little orphan at the age of 6.
Two weeks after the massacre Katherine Elise’s maiden aunt adopted a six year old girl, who she named Evelyn Matthews. The adoption records are sealed. I can’t get near them. The kid was bundled off to England to attend boarding school, she was appointed an English guardian and there is no record of her ever returning. There was an Evelyn Matthews at a Bryony Lodge School at the right time. I’ve a contact at Scotland Yard who I met when.."
Jensen glared at him
“Anyway, never mind, he’s going to find out more.”
Jensen sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m struggling with where I’m going with this. Do we think that this whole family thing has started back up now Evelyn is all grown up? She would certainly be pissed off about it all. Maybe Caitlin is a Murphy. Where the pimp and his client fit in, I have no idea.”
Misha nodded “Maybe Caitlin is Evelyn. The Doc said the Multiple Personality thing usually has a trauma trigger in childhood. This would count as traumatic. Maybe the Murphys tried to finish the job. Maybe they took the guys out as a lesson, or to frame her.” He cocked his head and added “She drinks a lot of tea. From a teapot. We could find out if she likes cucumber sandwiches and PIMMS.”
Jensen shot him another stern glare and he put up his hands “Just brainstorming here. Talking of that. I spoke to Chad earlier. He said that nothing came of that little undercover meet they organized. Some middle-aged bdsm couple showed up expecting a safe little role play. On the plus side he thinks they’re getting somewhere with the nursery school teacher but you’ll have that e-mail.”
Misha left Jensen alone in order to solve the crimes of his own City. Jensen stared at the wall trying to make sense of all the information whirling in fragments about his brain. It wasn’t helped by the urge he had to look for Jared. He had this ridiculous hope that the architect would search him out, take him in those strong warm arms and forgive him with a candy-flavored kiss. He found himself making numerous excuses to open his door and walk around the station, reading the notice boards until he knew every announcement by heart but Jared didn’t drop into the Precinct, in fact it seemed to Jensen that he must be deliberately avoiding the place.
Sometime during the afternoon Jensen’s mobile bleeped and he palmed it to take the message.
“Can we meet at Milligan's 2night? Got news to discuss if ur willing. Mark” He stared at the message, gathering his thoughts before replying, a quick confirmation that he agreed to the change.
***
Jared had a backlog of work and his concentration had gone to hell since he found out about Megan. His mind wandered between the joy he was feeling at being reunited with his little sister and the other emotions it stirred. He hadn’t been to see his dad since the initial arraignment, hadn’t bothered to be there for the sentencing or see him in jail and now he didn’t know how he felt about him. The talk that he had with Ellen had raised issues too. All the painful memories which he thought he had permanently buried, swirled and surfaced, all pushing for his attention.
Then there was the question of Jensen and that was something he really couldn’t afford to think about right now.
He printed out drawings and checked measurements, made some enquiries about the thickness of some custom-made steel panels and settled down to answer all his emails. By late afternoon he was starting to catch up.
There was a knock at the door and someone came into the small lobby. Jared kicked the floor to propel his wheeled chair into a space where he could better see who had arrived. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
There was a young man stood awkwardly in the outer office. He was dressed in plain jeans and T Shirt and was almost as tall as Jared with a shock of shaggy brunette hair, bangs partly obscuring his face. His brown eyes were set in a fine-featured face with a wide mouth, which was open in a bright wide smile. He was holding out one of Jared’s own business cards as if it were some sort of offering. “You’re JT. We’ve met. You gave me this, you asked me to come to you if I could help. You asked about Jane Doe, said if I had any information, I should call. I should have called but this seemed better. Do you mind?”
The architect forced himself to shut his mouth and continued trundling on the chair until he was sitting level with the lad. “No! Stay! Shit, it’s just unexpected. That was ages ago. Got to be at least 4 months. Sit. Please sit.” he tapped the couch. “Would you like a soda or a coffee.”
“No. I’m fine, I won’t be long.”
“Right yeah. Do I know you?” The young man was very familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d met him.
“Lets just say we go to a lot of the same places. I’ve seen you around. If you don’t remember that’s fine, I’m Mark.”
“Well, hi Mark. I should ask what you want. I mean what it is you think I will pay for what you’ve got? I can pay but I don’t do favors or drugs or any of that shit. Just so we’re on the right page.”
Mark scowled and he got up from the couch. “I don’t want anything. If you’re going to be a dick you can go to hell.”
“Fuck no. I’m just not good at this. I apologize OK. Please stay, if not for me, for her.”
“It’s alright, you’ve always been a bit of a prick. I’m doing this for me, because it’s the right thing. Not for you. Not for anyone else. I‘m leaving. Got myself a job, a real one. I’m going to be out of here, away from all of it.”
Jared nodded his understanding. “That’s real good Mark. What was it you wanted to tell me?”
Mark took a deep breath and spoke steady and clear. “Jane was a mess when she hit the streets. Couldn’t get decent business so she took what she could, the low end stuff. She never said no, barely spoke. Some of the girls chased her off, teased her and beat her. They made fun of her name, so she showed them. She had one of those thin plastic bands that they give you when you’re admitted to hospital. I never saw it but one of the girls said it was for a place she’d never heard of and it had John in the name. The bitch thought it was hilarious.” He shook his head at the memory.
“Mark, that really is helpful, thank-you.”
“No. Wait. There’s more. The cuts she has. The ones on her body. She didn’t have them when she arrived. She was battered and scarred but the cuts, she got them from a John a couple of weeks after she started here. Like I say, she never said no. It’s what made Alec want her, she may have been beat-up and a little crazy but the Johns pay good money for a sub who won’t safe-word. There’s some say the guy had a knife-kink and she asked him for it. Asked for that precise pattern, even drew it out for him, but the street is full of liars, so I don’t know. I got his license plate. He’s a regular with Alec’s girls.” He handed a folded slip of notepaper to him. “There’s something else Alec’s girls agree on, but like I say you can’t trust anyone in that business.”
“What do they say Mark?” Jared encouraged.
“They all say she did it, that it was her cut Alec up and that other guy before him. He was furious when he got home from the hospital, took it out on his other girls, hurt some of them real bad.”
Jared struggled to keep his face neutral. “It’s good you’re getting out Mark.”
“I never said I was one of them.”
“No you didn’t and I trust you.” Jared smiled.
“I should go now. Don’t want to be here too long, I’ve got to pack up.”
“Wait, will you at least let me give you a token. It’s not much, just something someone gave me when I first got off the street.” Jared looked steadily at Mark. “We’re not going to pretend we don’t know what I mean by that, are we?”
Mark returned his gaze and nodded. “OK. Yeah.”
The tall man reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a slim velvet case. He opened it and handed it to Mark. Mark accepted it in open hand and fingered the elegant silver pen with the other. He turned it to read the fine engraving “Design your own future.”
He closed the case and looked quizzically at Jared. “So why do you go back?”
The architect looked shocked.
“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve seen you and I want to know, because I don’t want to. Ever. Go back that is. I want to understand.”
“Honestly. I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure that out too, but I think you’ll be OK. I don’t think you’ll go back.”
“ Well good luck, with the Jane thing.” With that, Mark slipped the pen carefully into his pocket. He took out his mobile phone and looked at the screen. He gave Jared a quirky grin. “There’s extra patrols at the park right now, you should probably stick to Milligan's tonight.” he said as he stepped out onto the street.
Continued in part 28 here: anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/8674.html