the veil that keeps me blind, 10/15
Title: The Veil That Keeps Me Blind
Chapter: 10/15 (Book III)
Notes: Only one more chapter of Book III after this, and then onto Book IV, which is what I suspect is of more interest to you. Although that doesn’t make Book III any less necessary in terms of the story as a whole.
Book III
Chapter 10
xxxxx
She awoke several times during the night, and each time she ran the engine for a little while to get the heat in the car going. Winters may be far milder in Sacramento than in her native Chicago, but that did not mean it was not cold. Fortunately, there were a few blankets in the trunk of the car (along with a flashlight and several granola bars in the glove compartment, she discovered), so she was able to make do with what she had.
When she woke up for good, it was light outside and her neck ached from sleeping in the cramped car. She shivered and glanced at the clock on the dashboard: 10:32 AM. Later than she had hoped, given that she barely felt like she got any sleep at all. Her thoughts a little more clear in the morning than they had been the night before, she hoped that Casper wasn’t worried about her missing their check in that morning; she’d had to miss check ins before in order to keep her cover, and she wouldn’t stay any longer than that afternoon. If she could get to a phone to call him, she would, but she was too far away from anywhere she knew, and without the aid of GPS or any idea where to go, she could not risk abandoning her stake out.
Instead, she ran the engine again with the heat on high for a few minutes to give herself a chance to warm up again before heading back out to investigate the house properly during daylight hours.
Although Debbie Summers’ car was gone, the pickup truck that had been in the car park the night before was still there, so Lisbon hung around the outskirts of the property, investigating the old shed in the back and the two story garage (which were both conveniently left unlocked, as far as she was concerned). She found several guns in the shed and pocketed one, making sure it was loaded, just in case. If nothing came of this, she would return it. If it happened to be properly registered, which she doubted.
Late in the afternoon, just when Lisbon had done everything she possibly could and was ready to give up and head back to the shelter to avoid blowing her cover, movement came from the main house. The front door swung open and a man walked out onto the front porch, locking the door behind him.
As soon as Lisbon was certain he was heading to his truck, Lisbon took cover in the woods surrounding her, using them as a shortcut to get to where she parked her car. She took off at a run, moving as quickly as she can while still dodging roots and low hanging tree branches; she arrived at her car panting heavily.
She immediately turned on the engine and drove off in pursuit of her suspect. After almost half an hour retracing the same path she had taken the night before while following Debbie Summers, the suspect (whose name Lisbon assumed was Jim Stroup, after having inspected several pieces of mail addressed to him while she was in his garage) took the entrance ramp onto the highway and headed south instead of back towards the city.
Lisbon forced herself to stay focused while she drove, ignoring the fact that she had barely eaten in the past 24 hours and the only sleep she got was restless at best. Eventually she turned on the radio, leaving the station on the preset quiet classical station, just to give herself something else to listen to other than the endless loop of questions in her head, threatening to wear her out.
Stroup made several stops over the course of the next few hours, few of them long and even fewer noteworthy, except for one half hour trip to a hardware store during which Lisbon feared she may have lost him. By the time the sun began to set in her rearview mirror, Lisbon was battling hunger and fatigue, running dangerously low on gas, and starting to doubt her own sanity. She felt as if the months of being someone else had finally broken her and she was no longer capable of making rational decisions, as evidenced by her now nearly 24-hour expedition that had yet to amount to anything conclusive.
At this point barely even aware of how long she had been driving, Lisbon nearly missed it when Stroup flashed his right turn signal and got off at Exit 12. This time, he stopped at The Silver Star Diner (Open 24 hours! the sign advertised in neon pink lettering). She stopped at the gas station next door to fill up -- grateful for the FBI-issued credit card and the fact that she happened to leave her wallet in her jacket pocket the night before -- then waited five minutes in the parking lot before going inside to watch him more closely.
There were only a few other patrons in the diner. Several truckers sat at the counter, and a family on vacation had taken over two tables by the front window. Stroup took up a booth in the back corner with a young redheaded woman. Lisbon finally got a good look at him from a table in the opposite corner of the diner, which she selected as it gave her the ability to observe without appearing obvious. Stroup was tall and well-built, probably in his early to mid 30s, with dark hair and dark eyes; his face was unshaven, but not messy in appearance.
Lisbon only caught a brief glimpse at the woman he was with when she turned her head. She appeared to be just about Stroup’s age, medium height and fine features, and looked a little bit unsure of herself. Lisbon wondered if she had followed Stroup all this time just to see him on a blind date.
When the waitress came to take her order, Lisbon only asked for a cup of coffee and scrambled eggs. As hungry and tired as she was, she did not dare eat too much so soon. The food came out quickly, although the coffee alone (at this point, she was on her third cup) was enough to perk her up.
Lisbon had almost finished eating when Stroup threw a couple of bills on the table and helped the woman (his date?) to her feet. He walked her out the door of the diner, and that immediately struck Lisbon as odd. Without waiting to signal her waitress that she would be right back, she expelled herself from the booth and followed them out while simultaneously checking her coat pocket to reassure herself that the gun she took that afternoon was still there.
Around the corner in the parking lot, Stroup was trying to help the redhead into the passenger’s seat of his pickup truck, but the woman was fighting him. Or trying to fight him. He must have slipped something in her drink.
Seeing that as her in, Lisbon sped up her gait toward them.
“Stop!” She commanded. “Stop right there. Let her go.”
Stroup spun around rapidly, startled. He took one look at Lisbon and grinned menacingly, an ominous sight only enhanced by the shadows that fell on his face in the poorly-lit parking lot. He laughed.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“You’d be surprised.” Lisbon reached for her gun and took a few steps closer to his truck. “Let her go.”
Stroup’s grin only widened. “Oh, you’re fun. I don’t think I’ll let her go, but I think I might take you with us.”
Lisbon stepped closer again. Although he would never acknowledge it, the very fact that she was moving closer instead of cowering in fear threatened him.
Only about five feet away from him now, her right hand gripped the gun tighter and pulled it out of her coat pocket, aiming it right at his chest. “I don’t think you will. I’m CBI. Let her go now.”
The color drained from his face and his grin immediately vanished. He had been expecting an easy kidnapping, so much so that he apparently had not even armed himself. Stroup stepped aside and let go of the redhead, who stumbled down from the truck and toward Lisbon.
“Th... thank you...” she mumbled almost incoherently as Stroup reluctantly let her out of the truck.
Lisbon steadied the woman with her free hand, supporting her weight. “You’re gonna be okay. What’s your name?”
“Mel... Melanie.”
“Okay Melanie. I need you to go back inside and have someone call 911. Can you do that for me?”
Melanie appeared uncertain at best, completely unsteady on her feet, but Lisbon could not take Melanie inside and stay outside to keep Stroup from driving off.
“I... think so,” Melanie said slowly, and she carefully guided herself to the diner wall to get herself inside.
Lisbon took her eyes off of Stroup for less than a second, just to check that Melanie was making her way inside, and he took that opportunity to lunge forward, grabbing for the gun and striking Lisbon hard in the chest. He was unsuccessful in his attempt to retrieve the gun for himself, but he does succeed in knocking it out of her hand.
His first hit took Lisbon by surprise, knocking the wind out of her as sharp pain set in, and his second and third hits to her side and her face left her gasping for breath. This must be how he started on all those women when he killed them, she thought.
“Not so strong now, are you bitch?” he sneered.
But if she had not been expecting his first hit, he was definitely not expecting hers. Before he could react, she knocked him over and retrieved the gun. She fired one warning shot into the air before aiming it right back at him.
“Do not move,” she ordered sharply, her breath coming in shallow gasps through the pain in her side.
“Excuse me. Is something goin’ on out here? I thought I heard something.”
Lisbon turned her body carefully, moving behind Stroup so that she never once took her eyes off of him. Her waitress had opened the back door and poked her head out.
Lisbon coughed, still slightly winded from the brief altercation.
“I’m a cop. Everything’s under control,” she explained, then motioned to Melanie, who had not made it inside yet. The woman was slumped down by the side of the diner, barely conscious. “I think she’s been drugged. Can you help her inside and call 911? Tell the operator that you have an undercover CBI agent who needs backup, and give them the address.”
The waitress nodded obediently and did not dare ask anymore questions, simply doing as Lisbon requested.
Local cops arrived on the scene in less than five minutes.
xxx
Once the local LEOs had Stroup handcuffed and in custody, Lisbon returned to the diner and asked if she could use the phone. No one had given her any trouble about her story as of yet, but she knew that the questions would be coming. And more importantly, she needed to call Casper to explain why she missed both her scheduled check in and her back up check in.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Casper.”
“Mike, it’s Lisbon.”
“Oh, thank God! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s a long story, but I have one of our suspects in custody.” The relief of talking to Casper again washed over her, and the story began to fall from her lips freely. “Debbie Summers took some documents from the permanent file room last night, and I followed her to home. She’s staying with a man named Jim Stroup. He and Summers are definitely in this together, I think they’re the people Mehler has been paying to do his dirty work. I followed Stroup all afternoon. I caught him drugging a woman and trying to force her into his car. We got in a fight, but nothing happened. I think at least one of Summers or Stroup will flip if we can get the DA to offer them a deal.”
“And you’re okay?” Casper seemed less interested in her story for the time being.
“I’m fine, I told you. You hit harder.”
Casper went quiet at the other end of the line. It was a comment in poor taste, as he had hit her under duress several times prior to her entering the shelter. She had to look the part, and she couldn’t be a battered woman without being exactly that. Casper wanted to fake bruises with makeup, but Lisbon knew that was not an acceptable alternative.
She hated using that against him, but she was aware that her comment would stop him from pushing to know exactly how hurt she was. Her chest was sore and there would inevitably be some bruising, but all things considered, she was fine. She wasn’t the story. She just wanted to get Summers and Stroup booked and then go home to sleep for a week.
“Where are you? We’re going to send someone for you right now.”
“We’re at the Silver Star Diner right off of Exit 12.” Lisbon’s thoughts shifted quickly. She had Stroup in custody, but Summers was still out there, probably at the shelter as her name had been on the schedule for that night. “Someone needs to go to the shelter to pick up Debbie Summers. I have more than enough on these two for a warrant, and I don’t think she’s been tipped off yet.”
“I’ll take care of it. You just stay where you are. Call me if anything changes.”
Lisbon felt better knowing that Casper would take care of it. She knew she could trust him to handle this with extreme caution; from the moment they started working together, she had trusted him implicitly. Some of that had been a necessity, the undercover agent-handler relationship dictated trust, but Mike Casper was simply an honest man and an outstanding agent. Lisbon never had any occasion to doubt him.
“I will,” she replied, and she hung up the phone.
Outside, the paramedics were just arriving and loading Melanie onto a stretcher. Lisbon had been hoping to have a few minutes to herself to rest before the FBI came to pick her up and she had to start telling her story all over again in more detail, but she did want to talk to Melanie before the paramedics took her to the hospital.
“Hey, Melanie.” Lisbon walked up to the stretcher right before they loaded it into the ambulance. “How are you feeling?”
Melanie smiled at her weakly. “Better, I think.” Her voice was strained and quiet, but she was awake and she no longer stuttered uncertainly.
“You look better,” Lisbon patted the younger woman’s hand. “You’re gonna be fine, you know.”
“I know,” Melanie agreed. “I’ve had worse dates.”
In spite of herself, Lisbon laughed. “Yeah,” she repeated. “You’re gonna be fine.”
One of the paramedics caught Lisbon’s eye and asked, “Do you need her for anything? We want to take her in now.”
“Take her. Someone from the FBI will be by to ask her some questions tomorrow morning, but for now, she just needs to rest.”
As the paramedics raised the stretcher up onto the back of the ambulance, Melanie’s voice called out.
“Thank you!” The effort from speaking strained her, causing her to cough three times in rapid succession. “Agent...?”
For a moment, Lisbon’s mind went blank. “Agent Lisbon,” she said quietly, more to herself than to answer Melanie. It felt strange, slipping back into her own skin for the first time in months. “I’m Agent Lisbon.”
xxxxx
Chapter: 10/15 (Book III)
Notes: Only one more chapter of Book III after this, and then onto Book IV, which is what I suspect is of more interest to you. Although that doesn’t make Book III any less necessary in terms of the story as a whole.
Book III
Chapter 10
xxxxx
She awoke several times during the night, and each time she ran the engine for a little while to get the heat in the car going. Winters may be far milder in Sacramento than in her native Chicago, but that did not mean it was not cold. Fortunately, there were a few blankets in the trunk of the car (along with a flashlight and several granola bars in the glove compartment, she discovered), so she was able to make do with what she had.
When she woke up for good, it was light outside and her neck ached from sleeping in the cramped car. She shivered and glanced at the clock on the dashboard: 10:32 AM. Later than she had hoped, given that she barely felt like she got any sleep at all. Her thoughts a little more clear in the morning than they had been the night before, she hoped that Casper wasn’t worried about her missing their check in that morning; she’d had to miss check ins before in order to keep her cover, and she wouldn’t stay any longer than that afternoon. If she could get to a phone to call him, she would, but she was too far away from anywhere she knew, and without the aid of GPS or any idea where to go, she could not risk abandoning her stake out.
Instead, she ran the engine again with the heat on high for a few minutes to give herself a chance to warm up again before heading back out to investigate the house properly during daylight hours.
Although Debbie Summers’ car was gone, the pickup truck that had been in the car park the night before was still there, so Lisbon hung around the outskirts of the property, investigating the old shed in the back and the two story garage (which were both conveniently left unlocked, as far as she was concerned). She found several guns in the shed and pocketed one, making sure it was loaded, just in case. If nothing came of this, she would return it. If it happened to be properly registered, which she doubted.
Late in the afternoon, just when Lisbon had done everything she possibly could and was ready to give up and head back to the shelter to avoid blowing her cover, movement came from the main house. The front door swung open and a man walked out onto the front porch, locking the door behind him.
As soon as Lisbon was certain he was heading to his truck, Lisbon took cover in the woods surrounding her, using them as a shortcut to get to where she parked her car. She took off at a run, moving as quickly as she can while still dodging roots and low hanging tree branches; she arrived at her car panting heavily.
She immediately turned on the engine and drove off in pursuit of her suspect. After almost half an hour retracing the same path she had taken the night before while following Debbie Summers, the suspect (whose name Lisbon assumed was Jim Stroup, after having inspected several pieces of mail addressed to him while she was in his garage) took the entrance ramp onto the highway and headed south instead of back towards the city.
Lisbon forced herself to stay focused while she drove, ignoring the fact that she had barely eaten in the past 24 hours and the only sleep she got was restless at best. Eventually she turned on the radio, leaving the station on the preset quiet classical station, just to give herself something else to listen to other than the endless loop of questions in her head, threatening to wear her out.
Stroup made several stops over the course of the next few hours, few of them long and even fewer noteworthy, except for one half hour trip to a hardware store during which Lisbon feared she may have lost him. By the time the sun began to set in her rearview mirror, Lisbon was battling hunger and fatigue, running dangerously low on gas, and starting to doubt her own sanity. She felt as if the months of being someone else had finally broken her and she was no longer capable of making rational decisions, as evidenced by her now nearly 24-hour expedition that had yet to amount to anything conclusive.
At this point barely even aware of how long she had been driving, Lisbon nearly missed it when Stroup flashed his right turn signal and got off at Exit 12. This time, he stopped at The Silver Star Diner (Open 24 hours! the sign advertised in neon pink lettering). She stopped at the gas station next door to fill up -- grateful for the FBI-issued credit card and the fact that she happened to leave her wallet in her jacket pocket the night before -- then waited five minutes in the parking lot before going inside to watch him more closely.
There were only a few other patrons in the diner. Several truckers sat at the counter, and a family on vacation had taken over two tables by the front window. Stroup took up a booth in the back corner with a young redheaded woman. Lisbon finally got a good look at him from a table in the opposite corner of the diner, which she selected as it gave her the ability to observe without appearing obvious. Stroup was tall and well-built, probably in his early to mid 30s, with dark hair and dark eyes; his face was unshaven, but not messy in appearance.
Lisbon only caught a brief glimpse at the woman he was with when she turned her head. She appeared to be just about Stroup’s age, medium height and fine features, and looked a little bit unsure of herself. Lisbon wondered if she had followed Stroup all this time just to see him on a blind date.
When the waitress came to take her order, Lisbon only asked for a cup of coffee and scrambled eggs. As hungry and tired as she was, she did not dare eat too much so soon. The food came out quickly, although the coffee alone (at this point, she was on her third cup) was enough to perk her up.
Lisbon had almost finished eating when Stroup threw a couple of bills on the table and helped the woman (his date?) to her feet. He walked her out the door of the diner, and that immediately struck Lisbon as odd. Without waiting to signal her waitress that she would be right back, she expelled herself from the booth and followed them out while simultaneously checking her coat pocket to reassure herself that the gun she took that afternoon was still there.
Around the corner in the parking lot, Stroup was trying to help the redhead into the passenger’s seat of his pickup truck, but the woman was fighting him. Or trying to fight him. He must have slipped something in her drink.
Seeing that as her in, Lisbon sped up her gait toward them.
“Stop!” She commanded. “Stop right there. Let her go.”
Stroup spun around rapidly, startled. He took one look at Lisbon and grinned menacingly, an ominous sight only enhanced by the shadows that fell on his face in the poorly-lit parking lot. He laughed.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“You’d be surprised.” Lisbon reached for her gun and took a few steps closer to his truck. “Let her go.”
Stroup’s grin only widened. “Oh, you’re fun. I don’t think I’ll let her go, but I think I might take you with us.”
Lisbon stepped closer again. Although he would never acknowledge it, the very fact that she was moving closer instead of cowering in fear threatened him.
Only about five feet away from him now, her right hand gripped the gun tighter and pulled it out of her coat pocket, aiming it right at his chest. “I don’t think you will. I’m CBI. Let her go now.”
The color drained from his face and his grin immediately vanished. He had been expecting an easy kidnapping, so much so that he apparently had not even armed himself. Stroup stepped aside and let go of the redhead, who stumbled down from the truck and toward Lisbon.
“Th... thank you...” she mumbled almost incoherently as Stroup reluctantly let her out of the truck.
Lisbon steadied the woman with her free hand, supporting her weight. “You’re gonna be okay. What’s your name?”
“Mel... Melanie.”
“Okay Melanie. I need you to go back inside and have someone call 911. Can you do that for me?”
Melanie appeared uncertain at best, completely unsteady on her feet, but Lisbon could not take Melanie inside and stay outside to keep Stroup from driving off.
“I... think so,” Melanie said slowly, and she carefully guided herself to the diner wall to get herself inside.
Lisbon took her eyes off of Stroup for less than a second, just to check that Melanie was making her way inside, and he took that opportunity to lunge forward, grabbing for the gun and striking Lisbon hard in the chest. He was unsuccessful in his attempt to retrieve the gun for himself, but he does succeed in knocking it out of her hand.
His first hit took Lisbon by surprise, knocking the wind out of her as sharp pain set in, and his second and third hits to her side and her face left her gasping for breath. This must be how he started on all those women when he killed them, she thought.
“Not so strong now, are you bitch?” he sneered.
But if she had not been expecting his first hit, he was definitely not expecting hers. Before he could react, she knocked him over and retrieved the gun. She fired one warning shot into the air before aiming it right back at him.
“Do not move,” she ordered sharply, her breath coming in shallow gasps through the pain in her side.
“Excuse me. Is something goin’ on out here? I thought I heard something.”
Lisbon turned her body carefully, moving behind Stroup so that she never once took her eyes off of him. Her waitress had opened the back door and poked her head out.
Lisbon coughed, still slightly winded from the brief altercation.
“I’m a cop. Everything’s under control,” she explained, then motioned to Melanie, who had not made it inside yet. The woman was slumped down by the side of the diner, barely conscious. “I think she’s been drugged. Can you help her inside and call 911? Tell the operator that you have an undercover CBI agent who needs backup, and give them the address.”
The waitress nodded obediently and did not dare ask anymore questions, simply doing as Lisbon requested.
Local cops arrived on the scene in less than five minutes.
xxx
Once the local LEOs had Stroup handcuffed and in custody, Lisbon returned to the diner and asked if she could use the phone. No one had given her any trouble about her story as of yet, but she knew that the questions would be coming. And more importantly, she needed to call Casper to explain why she missed both her scheduled check in and her back up check in.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Casper.”
“Mike, it’s Lisbon.”
“Oh, thank God! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s a long story, but I have one of our suspects in custody.” The relief of talking to Casper again washed over her, and the story began to fall from her lips freely. “Debbie Summers took some documents from the permanent file room last night, and I followed her to home. She’s staying with a man named Jim Stroup. He and Summers are definitely in this together, I think they’re the people Mehler has been paying to do his dirty work. I followed Stroup all afternoon. I caught him drugging a woman and trying to force her into his car. We got in a fight, but nothing happened. I think at least one of Summers or Stroup will flip if we can get the DA to offer them a deal.”
“And you’re okay?” Casper seemed less interested in her story for the time being.
“I’m fine, I told you. You hit harder.”
Casper went quiet at the other end of the line. It was a comment in poor taste, as he had hit her under duress several times prior to her entering the shelter. She had to look the part, and she couldn’t be a battered woman without being exactly that. Casper wanted to fake bruises with makeup, but Lisbon knew that was not an acceptable alternative.
She hated using that against him, but she was aware that her comment would stop him from pushing to know exactly how hurt she was. Her chest was sore and there would inevitably be some bruising, but all things considered, she was fine. She wasn’t the story. She just wanted to get Summers and Stroup booked and then go home to sleep for a week.
“Where are you? We’re going to send someone for you right now.”
“We’re at the Silver Star Diner right off of Exit 12.” Lisbon’s thoughts shifted quickly. She had Stroup in custody, but Summers was still out there, probably at the shelter as her name had been on the schedule for that night. “Someone needs to go to the shelter to pick up Debbie Summers. I have more than enough on these two for a warrant, and I don’t think she’s been tipped off yet.”
“I’ll take care of it. You just stay where you are. Call me if anything changes.”
Lisbon felt better knowing that Casper would take care of it. She knew she could trust him to handle this with extreme caution; from the moment they started working together, she had trusted him implicitly. Some of that had been a necessity, the undercover agent-handler relationship dictated trust, but Mike Casper was simply an honest man and an outstanding agent. Lisbon never had any occasion to doubt him.
“I will,” she replied, and she hung up the phone.
Outside, the paramedics were just arriving and loading Melanie onto a stretcher. Lisbon had been hoping to have a few minutes to herself to rest before the FBI came to pick her up and she had to start telling her story all over again in more detail, but she did want to talk to Melanie before the paramedics took her to the hospital.
“Hey, Melanie.” Lisbon walked up to the stretcher right before they loaded it into the ambulance. “How are you feeling?”
Melanie smiled at her weakly. “Better, I think.” Her voice was strained and quiet, but she was awake and she no longer stuttered uncertainly.
“You look better,” Lisbon patted the younger woman’s hand. “You’re gonna be fine, you know.”
“I know,” Melanie agreed. “I’ve had worse dates.”
In spite of herself, Lisbon laughed. “Yeah,” she repeated. “You’re gonna be fine.”
One of the paramedics caught Lisbon’s eye and asked, “Do you need her for anything? We want to take her in now.”
“Take her. Someone from the FBI will be by to ask her some questions tomorrow morning, but for now, she just needs to rest.”
As the paramedics raised the stretcher up onto the back of the ambulance, Melanie’s voice called out.
“Thank you!” The effort from speaking strained her, causing her to cough three times in rapid succession. “Agent...?”
For a moment, Lisbon’s mind went blank. “Agent Lisbon,” she said quietly, more to herself than to answer Melanie. It felt strange, slipping back into her own skin for the first time in months. “I’m Agent Lisbon.”
xxxxx