Touched by Death Chapter 10
Perspiration dampened the small of his back, his thin tee shirt adhering to the slick skin. Sunlight spilled in through the slits of the blinds, piercing through his thin eyelids. Red swaddled the calm darkness painting his vision and he wriggled slightly, groaning at the ache across his shoulders and spine. Jensen squinted open one green eye, pupil contracting to a pin point from the stream of sunlight. He rolled away, tanned skin tugging away from Jared’s body which had served as a cushion through the night. He spun his shoulders in his sockets and detangled his limbs from Jared’s languid grasp. He propped himself on his intact arm and gazed down at his peaceful boyfriend, lips puckered, face smooth of worry and pink from heat. Jensen ran his fingers over his sharp cheekbone and thumbed the cleft of his chin. He basked in these moments of serenity, in the early morning light where the entire world was encapsulated in their little bedroom. Just Jared, Jensen, and the rising sun. Then memory shuffled across his grey matter and guilt flooded his temples with a thudding pain.
He climbed to his feet, vertebrates popping into alignment, and shuffled into the bathroom. He peeled away his soiled t shirt and briefs while stepping into the glass stall. The spray was icy when he first flipped the tap but warmed quickly. His shoulders bowed under the water pressure, easing some of the ache from his bones. He scrubbed quickly and flipped off the tap, snatching a fluffy canary towel from the rack on the wall.
Jared had been thrilled about those towels, running up to Jensen in the middle of Pier One cooing over the bright fabric tangled in his big palms. Jensen had steadfastly refused, they were so fucking yellow, but Jared had thrust forward his lower lips and Jensen had lost that fight before it even began. He pressed his face into the soft fabric before running it through his hair, drying the moisture dripping from his short spikes.
In the bedroom, Jared flung a long arm out haphazardly, seeking the warm body he was accustomed to waking next to. The rough carpet fibers which met his skin taunted him and he cracked open his eyes to sunshine and empty air. He sat up stiffly, carpet thread imprinted across the backs of his bare shoulders. He took stock of the bedroom, gaze lingering at the open bathroom door and finally settling on the open file box pressed against the wall.
He didn’t look through the files expecting to find much, given the worn corners and creased edges Jensen had scrutinized these papers on many occasions, but when he scanned across a page with a highlighted address something tickled the back of his mind.
98 Mott Street.
That was in the Warehouse District in the 40th precinct, Jared remembered reading about a drug bust there in Morgan’s file. It was before he had worked with Jensen, before he had been transferred to their precinct. Now, as it glared up at him, highlighted on the stark white sheet, it seemed so obvious. The perfect place to hide out. Jared stood quickly, cogs of his brain chugging slowly as he scanned the floor for the pants that had been discarded hastily last night. He found them balled up under the bed and dug his phone out from the creased fabric, dialing Chief Kripke as he struggled into his pants and searched for a clean dress shirt.
“This is Chief Kripke of the NYPD precinct…” The stern droll of Kripke’s familiar accent flowed steadily through the receiver before Jared cut him off.
“Sir, it’s Detective Padelecki, I think I have a lead on Morgan.” There was a steadying silence on the other end and Jared could hear the squeak of Kripke’s stiff office chair as he sat up.
“Padalecki, I thought I ordered you..” Anger and fear tainted the pitch and Jared stepped into his other shoe.
“Off the case, yeah I know but you’ve got to listen to me.” Jared begged, balancing the phone across his shoulder as he shimmied stiff jeans up his long legs.
“What have you got?”Kripke sighed through gritted teeth.
“98 Mott Street. Morgan worked a drug bust there years ago, it’s also written in as a recently visited place in his cruiser when he was still on the force. I think he kept checking it out after the department cleared out the Cartel and lurkers because he’s using it as a safe house. He could be there now.” Jared shoved his long limbs into a dress shirt and fumbled with the buttons with clumsy movements, fingers tripping from adrenaline.
“I’ll send a patrol there now. They’ll make a perimeter and cut off all exits. I don’t want you anywhere near the scene Padalecki. You or Ackles, is that understood?” Kripke replied stoically, a cacophony of noise suddenly spilling through the line.
“Yes sir.” Jared replied, grabbing his gun from the night stand and clipping it to his belt loops.
“I’ll let you know if they find anything.” The line went dead. There was no time for formalities and assurances. Jared wheeled around to find Jensen standing patiently in the door way, a towel was wrapped low around his narrow hips and water still beaded on his pectorals.
“I’m going.” Jensen moved quickly to the closet and grabbed a shirt of the hanger forcefully, hanger swinging on the rod spastically. The dark purple fabric did little to disguise his washed out pallor.
“Jen, you lost a lot of blood, not to mention Captain’s orders…” Jared reasoned but Jensen cut him off. His eyes were bright with need and Jared’s resolve waivered.
“I’m going Detective Padalecki.” Jensen spat the name, face blank as he paced closer to the tall frame of his boyfriend. He was only inches from Jared when he stilled, body heat swept over Jared’s chest and electricity coursed through his veins. Jensen tilted his face upward, lips parting softly and voice low, “I need to go Jared.”
Jared stared down at him for a moment, cataloging the thin purple skin under his eyes, how starkly his freckles contrasted with his pale flesh, the deep moss eyes pleading up at him. This had been Jensen’s case for nearly eight years. He had packed up the evidence box and stamped the big red unsolved seal across the lid. Every cop had a burden, every great cop at least, someone they didn’t save, someone they didn’t catch, and this was Jensen’s. Jared’s was Melissa Thornton; a 27 year old waitress and single mother of two. Her throat was slit walking home from work. There had been no DNA evidence, a simple robbery they assumed since her wallet was empty and her ears and neck bare. Jared was head detective.
He did everything he was supposed to; look for witnesses, ask her coworkers, check out close friends and family. There weren’t many people to research. He met her kids, two boys, Andrew and Marcus. Andrew was eight and Marcus was five, they lived in a rundown one bedroom apartment and slept on the sofa bed in the living room. Jared had picked apart their tiny abode but found nothing to insinuate foul play.
He took the boys to an aunt, the mother’s sister, and packed up everything about Melissa’s death in a box. He got the call 3 days later that Andrew and Marcus were dead; throats slit in their sleep. Jared could still see their faces, permanently full of peace and youth. They were found in their beds, batman sheets soaked through with red. The aunt called it in the next morning after she went in to wake them up for school. It was her husband, Warren. Jared went at him in the interview room with his face red with rage and hate burning straight through his chest until he finally coaxed the quivering man to sign the confession. Apparently Warren had been having an affair with Melissa and when she threatened to divulge that to her sister Warren had silenced her. He was worried the kids knew about their secret rendezvous and didn’t want to take the chance they might talk. He didn’t want to take the fucking chance. So instead he snuck into two little boy’s room and took a kitchen blade to their throats.
‘Was it fucking worth it? You slaughtered three people and your wife is going to find out anyway.’
‘I guess I didn’t plan it out quite right.’ And he fucking chuckled. Jared threw a right hook and broke the guy’s cheekbone. He was suspended for a month but it had been worth it. He spent that month drinking too much liquor and drowning in his own self-pity. Jensen had saved him. He hid the alcohol and bodily dragged him into the cold shower, sat there fully clothed under the icy spray and cradled Jared’s sobbing body close to his chest.
Jared looked down at his boyfriend now. This was his icy shower, weird as that sounded. “Let’s go Detective Ackles.”