Iâve been thinking about this new fic idea based on my last post, banged out a first chapter, and, well, here it is. Would really appreciate any thoughts, ideas, impressions from anyone who happens to see it. Trigger warning for implied violence in the first few paragraphs, but it doesnât last long.
Jane couldnât smell the blood. That was the first clue that this was a dream.
But God, she could feel the sharp jolts through her hands, see Hoyt grinning wickedly at her, sense the weight as he pressed her down, the thrash of her heart bursting its seams. His words were indistinct, for all they were burned into her memory, but she knew: He was going to kill her.
She knew how it would go, by now. Hoyt, in her face. His threatsâ or promisesâ echoing in her ears. And Korsak, bursting in to save her. Only sometimes, Hoyt killed him too. Sometimes, he never came. Sometimes, she felt herself die, and woke in a sweat. Some section of awareness, apart from the dream, wondered which it would be tonight.
Tonight, her phone rang from her pocket, and Hoyt swore, hand fumbling at her pants. The phone rang, and rang, and eventually, it broke her from the spell and she jerked awake.
Bed. She was in her bed, in the house outside of Hopperâs Run, and her phone was ringing. She fumbled for it, brought it to her ear.
âYeah,â Jane said, cursing how breathless she sounded. She tried again. âYeah, Rizzoli.â
âHey Jane!â came the perky voice of the Sheriffâs secretary, Hellie. âSorry to bother you so early, but we got a call from that new vetâs place, over on Grayson road? I guess somebody broke in last night and took a bunch of the drugs. Can you head over and take the report?â
Jane glanced at the clock; it was six thirty in the goddamn morning. She sighed. âYeah, Hellie. Iâll get there as soon as I can.â She hung up before Hellie could elaborate. It would only devolve into town gossip, and it was way too early for Jane to listen to just who got drunk and hit on who last night.
Why the hell did I move here again? she thought grumpily, shoving back the covers. It wasnât exactly a daily thought, but it came up from time to time. The open deputy position had seemed like the perfect thing, at firstâ that was, until Angela Rizzoli had up and moved her whole damn self right alongside her daughter. How, exactly, Ma had managed to find the little farmhouse outside of town that was offering a rent-to-own option was pretty much witchcraft to Jane, but theyâd moved in anyway, and now, here they were.
Which probably would have been fine. Probably. Except without asking Jane, Ma had extended the invitation to Tommyâ freshly out of jail, againâ to move down with them. Angela had been steadfast, in the face of Janeâs absolute fury, that Rizzolis stuck together, and when Jane had made a comment about Tommy being the gum on her shoe, Angela had swatted her with a towel and told her it wasnât her choice since the house was in her name. So, six months into her life in Hopperâs Run, Tommy had come to stay, as well.
Jane pushed away all that and stood, heading for the shower. Even over the water, she could hear the rooster crowing. God, cartoons really had that all wrong. Roosters didn't only yell at the rising sun, they also screamed their fragile masculinity throughout the entire day, and sometimes, even when they were locked up tight in the coop at night. They were a nuisance, and even though Ma had later learned that they werenât at all necessary for her hens to produce eggs, she refused to get rid of him. âHe needs a home, Janie!â she had said at the suggestion they give him away. Sheâd liked Janeâs other suggestion even less, but Jane maintained he would be much more useful in a soup pot.
Out of the shower, Jane dressed quickly and reluctantly braided her hair. The Sheriff insisted that all of his deputies (all three of them) wear a hat, and Janeâs hair, unbound, didn't let the Stratton fit properly. Once dressed, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, which revealed that the creases in her shit-brown slacks werenât quite as crisp as Sheriff Bradley might like, but Jane decided it was fine. A veterinarian, so often covered in animal crap, wouldnât care. Her tan uniform top, at least, was clean and ironed thanks to Ma. It all made her look like a man, but it would do.
She started for the stairs, but stopped, narrowing her eyes. Tommyâs door was shut, but she pushed it open unceremoniously and studied the room. There wasnât much in it except a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand, but she began digging through drawers anyway.
As she did, there was a rustling from the bedsheets. âHey!â Tommy said, head popping up. âWhat the hell are you doing?â
âChecking,â Jane said as she pulled out the second dresser drawer.
âFor what? And why? Itâs not even seven yet, jeez.â He shoved the covers back and scrambled out of bed, dressed in only his boxers. âWhat the hell, Janie? If ya needed to borrow something, all ya had to do was ask. Hey!â he added as a pile of his pants fell to the floor. âKnock it off!â
Jane yanked out the third drawer. âIâll be done in a minute.â
She felt a push on her shoulder. âI said quit it! What the hell are you doing going through my stuff?â
She shoved the drawer closed and looked up at him from her crouch, glaring. âThere was a theft of drugs from the vet office last night.â
Tommy first looked confused, but that quickly shifted to anger. âI never did drugs, and you know it.â
Jane scowled and stood, stepping around him to the nightstand. âYou drank plenty, and who knows what kind of friends youâre making around here.â
âDamnit, Janie, I told you Iâmââ
âOkay!â came Maâs voice from the landing outside Tommyâs door. âOkay, what on earth is going on in here?â
âPolice search,â Jane muttered as she scanned the contents of the single drawer. It wasnât much, just a small notebook, some pens, a pack of cigarettes and lighter, and a few other odd things. She turned toward the mattress, thrusting an arm underneath.
âSheâs making a wreck of my room,â Tommy complained, throwing a hand out to gesture at the clothes on the floor. âShe thinks I stole some animal drugs or something.â
Ma pinched the bridge of her nose. âJane, get your arm out of there,â she said sternly. âHe didnât steal anything.â
âYeah?â Jane asked, withdrawing the arm after finding nothing. âAnd how would you know?â
âI just do! He was with me all last night helping out at the cafe, and you know that staircase creaks like crazy, Iâd have heard if he left. Besides, the keys for the car were in my purse, in my room.â
âOh, thanks,â Tommy said, not quite under his breath. âGreat how none of those things was âhe wouldnât steal thatâ.â
Both Jane and Angela pinned him with a look, and he shifted uncomfortably. Jane then turned to the closet.
âOh no, you donât!â Angela said, seeing her. âThatâs enough! You wanna keep looking youâre gonna need a warrant.â
Jane whipped her head around. âMa,â she complained. âItâs my house!â
âNo, Janie, itâs my house, and youâre lucky enough to be living here, and at this very moment you are pushing that luck.â
Jane took a long, long second to master her frustration, forced her shoulders down, and finally let out an extended breath. âFine. I have to go to work anyway.â She pushed past Tommy, and then her mother, heading down the staircase that did, indeed, creak like a motherfucker as she went down it.
One travel cup of instant coffee later, Jane was positioned in her cruiser. She checked for her statement pad and a pen, and her crime scene kit, then backed out of her spot in front of the old farmhouse and started down the long drive. She didnât bother pulling up the GPS; she had a vague idea of where the new vet practice was.
Jane had heard about the new vet, the way you hear about every change in a small town. The woman was from the city, which made her immediately unworthy of trustâ Jane knew about that oneâ and she hadnât made a single social appearance anywhere in the county, which made the first thing worse. Sheâd been called snooty, and cold, and as far as Jane knew, hadnât had very many people coming to her with their animals. But sheâd be fine, if she was any good; the only other vet practice in the county was run by an increasingly elderly man whoâd had to stop seeing the larger animals because heâd lost a lot of his strength.
People warmed up, eventually. Jane had been here a year, now, and while Sheriff Bradley still called her âBostonâ, he at least sometimes slipped and called her by her last name, too. Ma working at the cafe helped. Unlike most other interlopers, the townsfolk here seemed to welcome Angela with open arms, charmed by her Boston vowels and warm demeanor. It didnât hurt that Ma knew how to gossip with the best of them, so when Jane stopped in for a midday coffee, a little of that warmth rubbed off on her.
Jane slowed down as she approached the little farmhouse on Grayson road. The property had always had a peeling barn and dilapidated horse fence, but now the barn had been repainted and the fence repaired. The little ranch-style house looked freshly painted, too, and there was spanking new gravel in front, making a small parking lot area. There was only one car there now, one of those hybrid things. Jane wondered at how quickly the property had been rehabbedâ sheâd been by here about a month ago, and it hadnât looked like this.
She pulled in, parking next to the tiny sedan, and took in a deep breath before grabbing her kit and pad and getting out. The sun had only just barely risen, and shadows still clung here and there; there was still dew on the grass. Jane paused to look over the land for a moment, taking it in. She missed Boston, sometimes, but there was something peaceful about being in the middle of nowhere, nobody expecting anything of you, no one to demand you get out of their way, no honking or traffic noise or neighbors constantly using the stairs at weird hours. Well, there was Tommy, but he was surprisingly quiet, when he wanted to be.
Jane was jerked from her moment, and she put on a mechanical smile that froze when she took in the source of the voice. The woman standing in the door of the farmhouse was⊠Well, she was wearing something designerâ the name of which Jane surely couldnât pronounceâ under a pressed white lab coat. Her hair, honey-blonde, somehow managed to catch the weak rays of sunlight streaming past the trees, and her eyes, a light golden brown, somehow complemented her hair perfectly. She wasnât smiling, but Jane could easily imagine the way the planes of her cheeks would gather, revealing what was sure to be a perfect, white smile under a straight nose. She did not at all look like a veterinarian.
âYes, maâam,â Jane said, after clearing her throat. âDeputy Rizzoli.â She held up her kit and statement pad in unnecessary demonstration. âOffice said youâd had a theft?â
âYes. Please come in.â The woman stepped back inside, allowing Jane through. The front room of the house had been transformed into a waiting area, folding chairs around the edges and a couple of desks off to one side that was surely meant to be reception. The woman led Jane through a long, cramped hallway to the very end, then turned into a small room that had shelves and cabinets on each side, and a back door. Mud room, Jane thought. She saw the damage to the back door immediately, since it had been left open. A crowbar, most likely, from the dent and scrapes in the wood. When she looked to her left, a large metal cabinet mounted on the wall proved to have been given the same treatment, the door bent badly back.
Jane stepped closer, eyeing the cabinet. It was completely empty. âClean sweep, huh?â she asked, setting her kit on the floor and opening it to extract a pair of gloves. âAny other places you keep meds?â
âNo,â the woman said from the doorway, shoulder leaned against it. âThat was the only storage. Unless you count the cabinet where I keep the medicated washes, which wasnât disturbed.â
Jane pulled her fingerprint set from the kit, balancing it on the edge of the sink underneath. Opening it, she selected the powder and the brush. âDid you notice anything else out of place, DoctorâŠ?â
âIsles,â the woman supplied. âMy apologies, I didnât introduce myself.â Jane shrugged, and the womanâ Dr. Islesâ continued, âThere were some drawers open in the examination rooms, but nothing of any real consequence is kept in those rooms, only some bandages, thermometers, that sort of thing. I donât think any of it was taken.â
Jane nodded as she worked, brush dusting carefully over the cabinet door. She didnât find much except for a partial print on the top edge. She laid the tape carefully over it, pressed, then folded the paper to preserve it. She then turned to the back door, giving it the same treatment.
The doctor didnât talk while Jane worked, only observed from the doorway. So the good doctor wasn't the kind to fill silence. Jane appreciated that; she didnât much like inane chatter herself. It was another fifteen minutes before she finished with the door, and she stretched, back sore from leaning over her work. Sheâd found one more clear print, and it was tucked next to the partial inside her kit.
When she looked up, it was to the doctorâs hawk-like eyes watching her intently. Jane raised her eyebrows in question. âWhat? I got powder on my face?â
Dr. Isles shook her head. âNo. You just seem very⊠adept, at that.â
Jane shot her a half-grin. âYou donât gotta sound so surprised about it.â
âI wasnâtââ The doctor cut off, looking embarrassed. âI didnât mean to imply that I thought you wouldnât be. I expected youâd have a separate person to collect evidence.â
Jane shrugged. âOut here, we kinda have to do it all, unless itâs something real serious, and then we call in the staties. For the basic stuff, though, we do alright.â She nodded to the door. âYou want me to call someone about the lock? Thereâs a guy in town who does that kinda thing on the side.â
âThat would be appreciated,â Dr. Isles said. âThough, you said âon the sideâ. What does he do normally?â
âMechanic.â Jane shut her kit and latched it, picking it up. âBut he also does locks, TVs, water heaters, and some maintenance for the elementary school.â
Dr. Isles raised her eyebrows, seeming impressed. âIs everyone around here so multitalented?â
Jane laughed. âNot even close. Some people around here donât seem to do anything at all, except drink.â She gestured through the doorway. âShow me the exam rooms?â
They went through the entire house, Jane dusting likely spots, but not finding anything else usable. Jane took her statement about what sheâd found when she walked in, time frames, and her usual schedule. She was pleasantly surprised when the doctor handed her a sheet of paper, scribed neatly with the names, quantities, and costs of each medication stolen.
âDetailed,â Jane commented, scanning the document.
âPrecision prevents calamity,â the doctor said, in a way that told Jane this was a personal mantra.
âMhmm,â was all Jane said to that. She tucked her statement pad and the paper under her arm and picked up her kit once more. âThat should be all I need. Iâll get out of your way so you can start seeing clients.â
âWell, IâŠâ Dr. Isles frowned a little. âI donât have any today.â The frown turned into a grimace. âNot that Iâm fully equipped to handle any clients right now, anyway.â
Jane gave her a pitying smile. âBeing the new kid around here is hard. Theyâll start showing up eventually.â The doctor looked doubtful, and Jane started speaking before she fully thought it out. âLook, my Maâs got some chickens at our place. She hasnât had anyone look at them yet, and she probably should.â Jane set down the kit and tore a piece off, scribbling down her address. âHere. If you get bored and wanna do a house call, this is us. Maâ her name is Angelaâ works down at the cafe half the time, so you should probably check there first to see if sheâs home before you show up, but tell her I sent you.â Jane held out the paper. âIf, ya know, you even do chickens.â
That caused a small smile to play at the doctorâs lips, and her cheeks bunched beneath her crinkling eyes in a way Jane hadnât predicted, but it was lovely all the same. âI can assure you that I am a fully trained veterinarian, certified in both food animal and companion animal care.â
Jane blinked. âSo⊠you do do chickens?â
The smile widened. âYes, Deputy Rizzoli, I âdo chickensâ.â She took the paper and inspected it. âThank you.â
Jane tipped her hat, the smile making her grin in return, before picking up her kit again. âSee you around, Dr. Isles.â
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
theartofmadeline
stormborns
amandla
