Hightower Apartments
Washington, D.C.
Day 1
2237 Romeo
Amidst the cacophonous blend of sirens and loud, commanding voices, two people, a man and a woman, stepped to the edge of the crime scene tape and flashed their credentials, as if their uniforms hadn't already disclosed their identities. The young officer standing guard peered carefully at their badges before allowing them to cross under the tape and pointing in the direction of the officer in charge.
The man nodded slightly and pocketed his badge, then glanced sympathetically toward his partner. She met his eyes with a steely resolve that seemed-to him, at least-forced. Reading the unspoken question in his gaze, she squared her shoulders and headed off in the given direction.
"So the Navy <finally> decides to get involved," cracked a raspy, world-weary voice. "I was wondering when you people might show up."
Knowing full well that the detective had more than likely been apprised of the Navy's interest in the cases, the woman ignored his words and instead introduced, "Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie and my partner, Commander Harmon Rabb. We're with the JAG corps."
"Great!" the man replied with little enthusiasm. "And lawyers to boot. As if we didn't have enough of them floating around here!" He jerked his head toward two people just entering the building.
Harm glanced in their direction, but quickly returned to the man in charge. "What exactly happened here, Detective..." He let his voice trail off and the other man reluctantly answered.
"Patrick. Detective Robert Patrick. And as for what went on here, well, a girl was murdered. That's about all we know right now."
"Do you have any preliminary theories?" Mac prodded, staring pointedly at the man. He might not like it, but she was damned if he was going to try and block them from the investigation.
"Now, why would I need to tell you anything?"
"Because," Harm murmured in a low, dangerous tone, "you want to keep this case. Since the victim was a Naval officer, we have jurisdiction and instead of merely lending our assistance, we can happily take the investigation off your hands."
The men shared a hard stare before Patrick finally backed down with a nonchalant shrug. "Lt. Commander Shannon Anderson, 33, single, died from what preliminary findings have shown to be a single stab wound to the heart. Very clean. Professional even." He walked into the apartment building and, dodging various uniforms, trudged up two flights of stairs and walked through the third door on the left.
Even if he hadn't led them, Mac and Harm would have easily found it. A half-dozen officers were stuffed into the room, each trying to glean what information and clues they could from the scene.
Mac stifled a gasp as they entered. Harm glanced around the room, inwardly shaken. Several items of clothing, the bedspread, and a handful of books were strewn across the bedroom. The mirror was cracked in several places as if something, or a group of somethings, had been hurled at it. A picture in a broken frame lay face up near the bed. But those images, even combined, did not equal the one horrifying clue that was painted across the far wall.
"'If I can't have her...'" Mac murmured, her eyes glued to the jagged letters.
Patrick nodded with a grimace. "It's blood. More than likely the victim's, but forensics will have to make that call."
"Just like the others," Harm interjected with a brief glance to his partner. Her normal dark complexion had faded to a color somewhere close to gray. He'd seen that look after each Tomcat ride she'd taken and, hoping to ease her distress, placed a steadying hand unobtrusively on her back.
"Looks like he's working up the chain of command," Patrick muttered offhandedly.
Mac sucked in a calming breath and remarked, "The first victim, Dara Chandler, was an Ensign and Randy Hutchins was a lieutenant junior grade. Then Lt. Marie Wallace was the last."
"Or so we'd hoped," Harm murmured.
There was a pause as the three investigators absorbed the details of the scene. After a minute or so, a woman dressed in civilian clothes approached the small group. "Hey, Rob," she greeted tiredly. "Man, I've got to find another job. These hours kill me." Seeing Mac blanch, the woman added, "Sorry, no pun intended." She glanced between the two military officers and extended her latex-covered hand, then retracted it when she realized she still wore the gloves. "Gladys Knight-no, no relation to the original. My parents just had a strange sense of humor. Besides," she continued with a slight shrug, "everybody calls me Lissa."
"Lissa's been the ME on all of the previous murders," Patrick remarked.
Harm nodded solemnly. "So, same guy?" he asked, moving his gaze around the room.
Knight nodded with a grimace. "So far it looks that way. The previous three victims were all killed by a single stab wound to the heart, either between the second and third or third and fourth ribs. In all cases, death was instantaneous."
"And," Patrick inserted, "every scene had that phrase written somewhere in the apartment, usually over the bed, but always in the victim's blood."
"Any idea as to who we're looking for?" Mac asked, finally finding her voice after a span of a few minutes.
Patrick motioned for them to follow him out of the room and answered, "We sent all the evidence up to the FBI to get a profiler on it, and we got some decent information to go on. But it would be more helpful if the damn guy would just leave a fingerprint somewhere!" The detective made a slight chuffing sound, then pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his trench coat pocket and quickly tucked one between his lips. The flame of the lighter flickered twice, then steadied and allowed him to light the cigarette.
"Those things'll kill you," Lissa muttered, as if it was an old argument between the two of them.
"Maybe," Patrick acknowledged, "but everybody goes somehow." Rolling his eyes slightly, he continued, "As we have daily proof."
Mac ignored the cynical by-play, her attention instead focused on the closing doors of the nearby ME van. She jerked visibly out of her reverie when Harm gently grasped her elbow and said, "We'll be down at the station in the morning to look at what you've got. And if you don't mind, we'll need to look over the evidence from the other murders." With a parting nod to the civilians, he steered his partner toward the edge of the crime scene tape.
Somewhere in the crowd of onlookers, one man stood, his gaze silent and impenetrable, and watched the scene play out. He shifted his position slightly as the naval officers moved out of his direct line of sight and climbed into a blue Taurus that screamed, "government personnel." The car started and the taillights faded into the dark night. He licked his lips, relishing in the sweet taste of retribution.
***
Office of the Medical Examiner
Washington, D.C.
0116 Romeo
Lissa Knight leaned over the body that lay on the examination table and peered intently at Shannon Anderson's internal cavity. "The knife wound perforated the left ventricle at an upward angle, indicating that the killer was more than likely behind her. As with the other victims, the blade appears to be non- serrated, maybe even two-edged, with a width of approximately two inches." Knight tilted the woman's head up and searched for the telltale marks of a struggle.
"There are two bruises on the left side of the neck that lead me to think that he held her with his right hand and stabbed her with the left." Lissa processed this new piece of information quickly. None of the other victims had had any marks on them aside from the stab wound. Which meant that either they knew the killer, or he had somehow drugged them.
A tox screen had ruled out the latter, leaving the former as one of the very few explanations. None of the victims showed any signs of sexual intercourse, forced or otherwise, keeping the investigators somewhat baffled as to the man's motive.
It was a man, at least that much was certain. The force of the blows, plus the height difference and the victims' genders all pointed to a male suspect. The profiler had confirmed their suspicions within minutes of seeing the evidence.
But something bothered her. There was something here that Lissa was certain hadn't been on the other bodies. It wasn't just the bruises, but she was damned if she could see it. With a sigh of frustration, she extracted the heart and set in the scale.
***
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
Day 2
0902 Romeo
"I understand the local PD found another body last night," Chegwidden began from his seat behind the large oak desk that dominated his office.
MacKenzie and Rabb sat in the two wing chairs in front of the desk and the colonel nodded. "Yes, sir, a Lt. Commander Shannon Anderson, the fourth victim in as many months."
Harm interjected, "She was stationed at the Pentagon. The first victim, Ensign Sara Chandler had just finished her first tour on the Seahawk. Lt. jg Randy Hutchins was due to go to Pensacola for her carrier quals and Lieutenant Marie Wallace was in OCS."
"All lived in the D.C. area, or at least in Northern Virginia, is that right?" the admiral asked without glancing up from the file that lay opened on his desk.
"Yes, sir," Mac responded, "that's correct."
"So how much do we know about the victims, other than where they were stationed? Did they know each other? Frequent the same places?"
Harm shook his head, "Not as far as the local PD was able to determine. The only thing that seems to link them is the fact that they're in the military, specifically the Navy."
Chegwidden nodded and gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "I know we normally don't begin an investigation without a suspect, but four sailors have been murdered. By what looks to be a serial killer. I think the local PD could use some military perspective to help catch the guy." The admiral pursed his lips and nodded once, as if confirming some internal debate. "I don't need to tell you that these murders take top priority for both of you." Mac and Harm shared a telling glance, but turned back to the admiral before he could call them on it. "I'll reassign your cases to Mattoni and Imes." He looked up at regarded each officer fiercely. "Get this guy. And that's an order."
***
By silent agreement, the two lawyers walked to Harm's office, Mac preceding him and ending up at the window. He closed the door and the blinds swished back against the glass, tapping it lightly before settling back into place. Rabb stood for a moment and traced the tense lines of his partner's back with his eyes. "Rough case, huh?" he asked after a minute or so.
Mac nodded absently, but remained where she was. Such was the state of their relationship since his return to JAG. Harm sighed inwardly with regret. Yes, he'd gotten a chance to relive his dreams, but in the end, the opportunity cost him more than he ever would have imagined. Although he hadn't expected to be welcomed back with open arms, the reality that life had gone on without him came somewhat as a shock.
He watched his partner as she continued to stare out the window and reminded himself, 'You can't go home. Too many things change. Have changed in fact.' Hoping she would let him know what was going on inside her when she was ready, he moved toward the desk and picked one of the many files that littered the top. "Why?" the colonel murmured after a moment. "Why those women?"
"I don't know, Mac," Harm answered, matching the level of his voice to hers. He dropped the file back onto the desk and turned around to lean against it.
She shook her head as a puzzled look crossed her exotic features. "There has to be a reason. Every crime has a motive. What was his?"
Harm watched her turn away from the window to face him. Regarding her soberly, he replied, "That's what we've got to figure out if we're going to catch this guy."
Mac offered him a wan smile and said, "We need to go look at the evidence. And the profile."
Returning her smile, he silently sent her his support and inwardly hoped that she would be able to put aside whatever was bothering her until after the investigation. She owed it to those dead women. "Come on, Colonel," he beckoned, rising from his half-seated position and walking toward the door, "let's go."
***
Washington D.C. Police Department
23rd Precinct
1004 Romeo
Detective Patrick sat behind a badly scarred metal desk in the middle of the PD bullpen. Various suspects in various crimes sat at odd intervals around the room. Some, like the two prostitutes and the drug dealer, were handcuffed to their chairs, while the others were being processed through the system.
He sighed audibly. Yet another day in the never-ending sea of despair.
"What's with you?" asked a familiar voice from behind him. The cup of steaming coffee appeared before the woman did and Patrick gratefully accepted the hit of caffeine. Sometimes it seemed that that was the only thing that kept him going. Especially on cases like the Navy murders.
And now, the inevitable had occurred: the press had gotten wind of the story. Some damn reporter had blithely come up with a snappy headline, something like the "Sailor Slayer" or some other damn thing, and now the captain had his ass in a sling. But at least none of the details had been leaked. Yet.
He shrugged negligently in answer to the question and looked up into the curious eyes of Lissa Knight. "It's this case. You know, after a while, you just have to wonder what it's all for."
She nodded and smiled wanly as she took the seat next to his desk. "I hear you," the ME commented. "There's only so many ways you can slice and dice a body, but it seems like the world is always trying its damndest to find another."
After a long pause, Patrick took another sip of the java and set the paper cup aside in favor of one of the many files on his desk. "So, what did you find?"
Knowing exactly what he was talking about, Lissa nodded. "SOS. But with a twist. This one had bruises on her neck in the shape of fingers. And before you ask," she continued when his eyebrows lifted in a silent question, "no finger prints. He must've been wearing gloves."
The detective cursed mildly then lifted a hand, indicating that she should go on. "That's about it. Otherwise she matches up exactly like the other vics." A look of confusion marred her brow as she tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"What?" Patrick asked, knowing that she wasn't telling him everything.
The ME shook her head. "I don't know. There's just something about this one...something's either missing or...new. But I can't put my finger on it." She heaved a soft sigh and raised her cup to her lips. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes. "Maybe it'll come to me after I get some sleep."
"Glad <you> get to get some shut-eye," Patrick muttered as he tossed aside the file and stretched back in his chair. Though he had gone home to change clothes that morning, his suit already looked as if it had been slept in.
Lissa tilted her head sardonically. "Hey, someone's gotta feed my dog."
"Why don't you get your husband or boyfriend to do that?" the detective asked in an offhand manner that somewhat disguised his true curiosity. Although they'd worked closely together on a number of cases, it continued to surprise Rob how little he actually knew about Lissa Knight's private life.
The ME snorted. "Yeah, right. If <I> hate my hours, why the hell would I subject somebody else to them?"
Patrick nodded good-naturedly and settled his forehead in his hands. Scrubbing his face, he slid his fingers back into his thick charcoal-colored hair.
Lissa smothered a smile at the picture he made. Hair slightly mussed, tie askew, Rob looked like a little boy playing dress-up in his father's clothes. She sobered a minute later, her reverie broken by the knowledge that this was no game. The people they worked for and against weren't merely dolls to be bandied about. These were flesh and blood men and women with equally human wants and needs.
She shook off the dark thoughts and rearranged his hair in some semblance of a style. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but inwardly enjoyed every movement of her fingers. A second later, she dropped her hand and glanced back at her cup, slightly embarrassed by her display. She cleared her throat and asked, "When are the naval officers supposed to be here?"
He gazed over at her, willing her eyes to meet his. When they finally did, Rob silently told her it was OK, that he didn't mind her actions. Satisfied that she read him correctly, he answered, "They should be here any time now."
Lissa smiled softly, her green eyes warming under his gaze. "Do you want me to stick around to answer any questions they might have?"
Patrick hesitated for a moment, caught between the selfish desire for her company and the knowledge that she was dead on her feet. Finally, he shook his head. "Go home. Get some sleep. But if you think of anything..."
"I'll call you," she replied with a smile.
***
Washington D.C. Police Department
23rd Precinct
1129 Romeo
"...white male, between 30 and 40, medium to athletic build, left handed, with a history of problems with women in authority..." Mac's voice trailed off as she continued to read through the pages with "FBI" stamped in red on the front.
"Don't tell me you're going to respond to <that> ad," Harm cracked as he sat down in the chair next to her. "I know you've got strange taste in men, but..."
The colonel shot him a dark look, but tempered it with a soft smile. "No, I'm just going over the profile on our suspect." Mac was warmed by his light banter. Since Harm had come back from flying, their once easy camaraderie had disintegrated into uneasy exchanges whenever they discussed anything not relating to work. And even then, sometimes work topics were sensitive enough. It was almost as if they didn't know where they stood with each other.
Harm leaned closer and read over her shoulder in silence for a moment. "Does that say what I think I just read?" he asked, a perplexed look stealing over his features.
Glancing down the page a little further, Mac murmured, "That he was in the military? Yep, that's what it says. Which is probably how he was able to read the various insignia and pick his victims."
Her partner raised his eyebrows in surprise and she continued, "Well, think about it, Harm. If you weren't in the Navy, would you be readily able to identify ranks?" He pursed his lips in acknowledgment of her assertion.
"That would also go a long way to explaining his targets." Harm leaned his elbows against the desk and stared across the room. "Maybe he had a female CO that really got on him."
"And what?" Mac asked, her brow furrowed with confusion. "You think he would just pick out random sailors because maybe some drill sergeant gave him a hard time?"
Harm turned back and looked questioningly at his partner. "Alright, so what's your theory?"
Mac shook her head with consternation. "I don't <know>, but I think it's bigger than that. The whole, 'If I can't have her' thing. Could it be possible that..."
"That what?" asked the voice of Detective Patrick. He had just entered the bullpen after briefing the captain on the investigation and caught the tail-end of Mac's thoughts.
"Maybe that he's trying to tell someone something?" she finished, gesturing helplessly.
Harm's eyes narrowed slightly as he focused in on the new arrival, his thoughts not on the man, but needing somewhere to focus. "You mean send a message to someone who hurt him in the past. Like a girl friend or something?"
"Maybe," Patrick answered. "But why would it be a girl friend when he's saying no one can have her--or them--if he can't? Why not a woman he wants but for some reason can't or won't have?" The detective pulled back his desk chair, ignoring the metal squeak as he sat down, and rolled closer to the table.
Harm flipped back through the pages of the profile and murmured, "If he has problems with authority, especially women in authority, then more than likely he's been brought up on charges. Or at least gotten written up." The commander rose without another word.
Mac's eyes followed him as he walked toward the door and called, "Where are you going?"
"I think Bud needs to exercise his research skills."
The colonel sighed and went back to studying the document. "Does he do that often?" Patrick asked, disbelief marring his attractive features. "I mean just say something cryptic and disappear?"
Mac shrugged. "I've gotten used to it." Laying the papers aside, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes.
And from across the street, someone watched.
***
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
1231 Romeo
Harm grabbed Bud just as he was walking toward the elevator to return the main offices. Dropping an arm around the younger man's shoulder, the commander murmured, "Bud, I need a favor. I know you've got that D&D case you're working on as well as some others, but I need some fast and dirty research and you're the best when it comes to finding the needle."
Bud, slack-jawed and still not over the surprise of being taken off-guard by Rabb's sudden appearance, tried to form a suitable excuse. When they turned the corner and he was able to look the other man in the eyes, Bud found himself saying yes, without another thought. The commander was on to something and, if Bud was reading him correctly, it had the potential for being big.
***
Washington, D.C.
1647 Romeo
Mac turned the corner into the final mile of her run and sucked in a deep breath. Having poured over the profile and evidence for hours, her brain had finally given out and she was forced to take a break. Harm had never returned to the station, but that really hadn't surprised her. Even when they'd worked together previously, he had a knack for leaving only to catch up with her later. Matter of fact, she wouldn't have been shocked if he'd joined her in the park.
But that was something the old Harm would do. Or, at least, who <she> termed the "old" Harm. The man who'd come back to JAG might look like the same man who had been her best friend, but this one was different. Somehow, Harm had changed when he'd been away at sea. For that matter, so had she.
In addition to the promotion and the plum position of being the admiral's chief of staff, she had finally made peace with her past. The result: a marine who could look her fellow officers in the eye and not feel inadequate, and a woman who could take the attentions of a man as they were intended.
Mac smiled at the thought. Mic, with his eager charm and pleasant manners, had certainly gone a long way to help her growth. She knew he found her attractive and definitely wanted more than their current relationship, but, in truth, her heart belonged to someone else. Someone she wasn't sure if she would ever see again.
Banishing the dark thoughts, she cleared her mind and allowed it to drift to happier things. Tomorrow night she would be baby-sitting her godson while Bud and Harriet got a much needed night on the town. Although he was still a baby and was only just beginning to walk and babble, she still liked to plan what she was going to do with him. Never in a million years had Mac thought she'd enjoy a baby so much. 'I guess the time with Chloe showed me more than I ever would have realized,' she mused to herself.
Just as she was rounding the slight bend, Mac slammed into someone. Jarred, she felt the steadying hands of a man grip her shoulders. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to catch her breath. "I didn't see you there."
The man smiled, his white teeth gleaming like a movie star's, and replied, "No, no, it was my fault. I guess I need to learn to not stop in the middle of the path." His concerned green eyes traced lightly over her, trying to ensure that she was, indeed, alright.
Mac chuckled. "You must be new to running in this park." Smiling, she glanced around her toward the other joggers and continued, "Otherwise you would have known that these people take their running seriously. Any distraction or, dare I say, impediment, and they can get violent."
The man's smile widened at her teasing tone. "Well, then, allow me to buy you a bottle of water to atone for my error!"
The colonel took in his well-formed body and thick blond hair and stuck out her hand. "Sarah MacKenzie."
"Evan McDaniel," he replied taking her hand within his strong grip and tugging her toward a vendor's cart. After ordering two bottles of water, he smiled and said, "This is going to sound like the worst pick-up line, but do you run here often?"
Mac chuckled and accepted the Naya that the vendor handed her. "Not as often as I'd like. My job..." she trailed off, unsure as to whether or not to continue.
"Ah! A kindred spirit," Evan remarked, taking her elbow and steering her toward a grouping of picnic tables. "This is the first time I've gotten to come here because work keeps me so busy." They sat on opposite sides of the table and, after a few swallows, he asked, "So what do you?"
"You mean when I'm not running into people?" Mac asked with a laugh. "I work in the legal field."
Impressed, Evan nodded. "Brains and beauty," he acknowledged.
She blushed slightly, but accepted the compliment and returned, "What keeps you out of the park on beautiful days?"
Evan fingered the label of his bottle and peeled it away from the plastic. "I'm a corporate buyer for a Fortune 500 company."
"An executive? You must keep long hours..." Mac smiled, then paused, checking her internal clock. "And speaking of hours, I need to go. I have some things I need to finish up at work."
Evan's smile faded slightly at the impending loss of her company. "Well, then, maybe we'll run into each other again sometime?"
"We'll see," the colonel replied, a teasing glint lighting her eyes. "Thanks for the water," she murmured as she lifted the bottle slightly in his direction. She rose from the table and walked toward the parking lot. After a few steps, she glanced back over her shoulder and smiled goodbye to Evan.
McDaniel returned her smile and added a little wave, thinking to himself, 'Yes, we shall.'
***
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
2226 Romeo
Bud sat at his desk scanning through the Navy's databases all the while trying to stay focused. After another moment, he gave up and scrubbed a tired hand over his face, wincing at the raspy scrape of skin against stubble. He picked up several pieces of paper and walked over to his old office. When Rabb had returned, Bud had been forced back to a desk in the bullpen, but he was glad to move if it meant the commander would be at JAG. The place hadn't been the same without him. Life had continued, however, it always seemed like there was something missing. A missing puzzle piece that made the picture incomplete.
His return had filled the gap, and, even though for the first few weeks it seemed like an awkward fit, things seemed to be getting back to normal. Bud knocked lightly on the door and Harm waved him in before running a hand through his short hair. "Come on in, Bud," Rabb ordered. "It's 10:30. You don't have to knock."
The lieutenant smiled sheepishly and answered, "Sorry, sir, hard habit to break." He walked over to the desk and handed Harm the information he'd found so far.
"Whatcha got?" the commander asked, taking the papers and scanning over them.
"Well, I found out some interesting things, but I don't think they'll help much," Bud began, moving closer to the desk so that he could point out various important areas. "Using the information from the FBI's profile, I managed to cross-reference three cases where men were court-martialed and subsequently dishonorably discharged because of run-ins with female officers."
"That's excellent work, Lieutenant!" Harm complimented, sitting up straighter in his chair.
Bud nodded slightly and replied, "Thank you, sir, but now we get to the bad news. One man is dead and another is in a hospital being treated for end-stage renal failure."
Harm's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "You said you found three cases..."
"I did," the younger man confirmed. "But the last man, a Richard Jordanson, hasn't been seen or heard from since he was dishonorably discharged after his court-martial."
The commander glanced up, curious at that detail, and asked, "What were the charges?"
"Um..." Bud muttered as he searched through the pages until he found the correct paragraph. "Assaulting a senior officer, disorderly conduct, and conduct unbecoming. His last rank was that of a full lieutenant."
Harm leafed through the papers his brow knitted in concentration. "Bud, do you have any more information on him?"
Roberts looked blankly back at his computer and answered, "Not much, sir. I would need to get permission to search his service record..."
Nodding, the commander reached for his phone and dialed. "This is Rabb," he intoned. "I think we might have something interesting, but it's too late tonight to do anything on our side." He nodded and looked closely at the paper. "Will you see if you have anything on a Richard Jordanson? He fits the profile and can't be accounted for by the Navy." Nodding again, he set the page aside and murmured, "Yeah, will do."
He hung up the phone a moment later and glanced over at Bud. The younger man was swaying slightly with exhaustion. "Why don't you go home, Lieutenant?" Rabb suggested. "I'll cover for you tomorrow with the admiral if you're a little bit late."
Bud's eyes widened with thanks and as he opened his mouth to respond, a huge yawn overwhelmed him. "Oh! Sorry, sir. I guess I am kinda tired. Thank you, sir." He turned to go, then said over his shoulder, "I'll see you in the morning!"
Harm nodded with a smile then returned his attention to the single sheet of paper. "Richard Jordanson," he murmured thoughtfully, fingering the edge of the page.
***
Lt. Colonel Sarah MacKenzie's apartment
Washington, D.C.
Day 3
0215 Romeo
Despite the many unanswered questions surrounding the case, Mac fell asleep relatively easy, attributing the majority of her exhaustion to her run. Her peaceful breaths signaled a deep and revitalizing sleep that was free from dreams, while outside her apartment lurked the person who would soon haunt her nightmares.
The dark sedan parked across the street from her apartment building had occupied that same spot the previous evening. Its occupant slouched inconspicuously, as if taking a much-needed break from the road. However, in truth, the driver was more than awake. His senses were on high alert knowing that the time had come.
It had to be special, because she was special. There would be no clandestine meeting in her apartment. No sweetly whispered words, at least not now. She deserved every praise, yes, but later when there was time. The only thing that mattered at this moment was getting her away safely and quietly. She must be taken care of. After all, she was the one. The only one who would understand everything. He had known that as soon as he'd seen her.
The man turned in the seat and spread a soft blanket in the back seat of the car, layering it so that she would be comfortable on the journey. That finished, he surreptitiously glanced around the street corner. Now that he had finally found her, he wasn't about to let some curious bystander blow the opportunity.
Satisfied that no one paid any undue attention to him, he quickly crossed the street and slipped into the door of the apartment building. He had watched her for hours, forgoing sleep and meals in an effort to ensure that his instinct had been correct. Knowing that she would be asleep by now, he crouched down beside her door and pulled the necessary tools from a pocket inside his denim jacket. He pressed his ear against the door before beginning the easy process of picking her lock. A few seconds later, the soft snick of the lock was met with a satisfied smile.
He smoothed his leather gloves back over his hands, forcing them snug against his fingers. Creeping quietly to her bedroom door, he eased it open, glad that the hinges were well oiled. 'She must have a good landlord,' he thought in passing as he edged his way over to the bed.
Mac slept soundly on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other lightly grasping her pillow. She was so beautiful with the moonlight streaming over her face. For a moment, he stood, entranced, then caught himself as his hand drifted to the honey-colored shoulder that peeked out from under her nightgown.
Soon.
Soon he would touch her all he wanted.
But for now, he pulled the white handkerchief out of one of his pockets and pressed it firmly over her nose and mouth. As expected, she struggled during her initial surprise, but eventually, the chemical overwhelmed her. He wrapped her gently in the bed spread, then lifted her light frame in his arms, knowing that if anyone stopped him on the way to his car, he would say she was extremely sick and he was taking her to the ER.
As it turned out, no cover story was needed. They reached his car without incident. After settling her in the back seat, he jumped in and calmly started the engine. He glanced in the rear view and side mirrors before pulling out onto the street and disappearing into the night.
***
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
0946 Romeo
Harm leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh. He hadn't gotten any further with the case and Patrick had yet to call saying he had found any new details. And worst of all, Mac still hadn't shown up for work. He'd wanted to call her and tell her what Bud had found last night, to get her opinion on Jordanson. However, just as he'd picked up the phone, he had glanced in passing at the clock on his wall. It had been past midnight and he knew that Mac needed at least a solid six hours of sleep; otherwise the rest of the office would be on the endangered species list. Case or no case, Harm was unwilling to subject the rest of JAG to his over-enthusiasm. So he had waited until this morning. Unfortunately, ten o'clock had come and still no Mac. 'Maybe she got stuck in traffic,' he mused to himself as he picked up his coffee mug and headed off for his second cup. Just as he had walked out of his office, he saw Bud, sleepy-eyed and looking a little rumpled. "Lieutenant!" he called. "Didn't I tell you I'd cover for you?"
Roberts nodded glumly. "Yes, you did and thanks, but it's not the case. Little AJ woke up when I got home last night and I couldn't get him to go back to sleep."
"Sorry, Bud," Harm remarked.
"Have you told Colonel MacKenzie about what we found last night?" the younger man asked as he trailed Harm over to the coffee machine.
Rabb cocked his head to one side and returned, "I would if I knew where she was."
Bud's brow furrowed. "She's not in yet, sir?" Seeing the commander shake his head, Roberts continued, "Well, maybe she got stuck in traffic. There was a huge accident about an hour ago over in her area. At least, that's what the radio reports are saying..."
"Sir?" prompted the voice of Gunnery Sergeant Galindez. Harm turned and the office manager finished, "A Detective Patrick just called for you. He said it was important." Rabb nodded and thanked the man then returned to his office and called the detective. "Yeah, this is Commander Rabb with JAG, I need to speak to Detective Patrick." He waved at Bud, silently telling the other man to take a seat. "I just got your message," he replied into the phone. "Did you find out anything?"
::"I had one of the uniforms run down your guy," Patrick began. Harm heard papers shuffling in the background and correctly assumed that the detective was checking his notes. "We've got a last known address on him, but it's a couple of years old. No telling if he's still there, but I'm sending some people out there later to check it out. And also, the FBI profiler added something to the profile. The killer probably returns to the scene. I guess he gets some kind of thrill of seeing us searching for evidence..."::
A low murmur buzzed over the line, indicating that someone else was speaking to Patrick. Harm sat silent and waited for the other man to return to the phone. After a minute or so, Patrick began again.
::"Sorry 'bout that, but Lissa wanted me to tell you that she figured out what was bothering her about the latest victim. It looks like Shannon Anderson's hair was cut."::
"How do you mean, 'cut?'" Harm asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.
::"As in cut with the knife that killed her. It's like he grabbed her hair in hunks and sawed it off."::
The commander leaned forward in his chair a little bit and reached over for the file he had on the case. Pulling out the various crime scene photos, he mused, "All of the other victims had short hair didn't they?"
::"That's what Lissa said she finally remembered. I guess he'd targeted Anderson before he realized that she had long hair."::
Rabb slid his hand over the receiver and glanced at Bud. "Who was the officer Jordanson was accused of attacking? Can you get a picture of her?"
The lieutenant skimmed through the file of papers that sat in his lap, then quietly left the office.
::"I was thinking he probably has some type of fetish for short hair," the detective commented.::
"Actually, it might be something more than that. I've got someone checking into it. What was the address you found on him?"
Bud returned with a couple of pages and handed them to the commander. As soon as he'd glanced at the first page, Rabb's eyebrows shot up. Nodding his head, he wrote down the location Patrick had found and frowned slightly. The place was cut-off to say the least.
"Patrick, the short hair is definitely more than a fetish. The officer Jordanson was convicted of stalking and assaulting had short brown hair. She was a commander in the Navy in another chain of command." He flipped through the pages and continued, "The court records don't give too much information other than the charges and the punishment, but I would bet he liked her and the feelings weren't mutual."
::"That would make a lot of sense," the detective commented, then murmured something to someone on his end. "Listen, I've got to go here. The press is on my captain's ass for a statement, which means <he's> on <mine> for an update. I'll keep you posted as to what we find out."::
Harm nodded and hung up, carefully studying the pages that lay strewn across his desk. '"He likes to watch..."' the detective's words ran through his head, bringing more questions with them. 'If he likes to see the fallout, then he more than likely knows the Navy's involved in the investigation.' "What if he <is> working his way up the chain of command," he muttered to himself.
"Sir?" Bud asked, his face a mask of confusion.
Shaking his head, the commander answered distractedly, "Oh, it was something the detective said. So far, Jordanson-if he is the killer-has murdered an ensign, a lieutenant j.g., a lieutenant, and a lieutenant commander..."
"So the next up the chain of command would be a full commander," Bud mused.
Harm's eyes widened as the detective's words whispered through him again. 'He likes to watch...which means he's seen Mac...' The sudden realization that Mac might not be late at all sent a shiver of fear trickling down his spine. "Unless..." he breathed before bolting out the door. He skidded to the JAG doors and called over his shoulder back to the lieutenant, "Call Detective Patrick back and tell him to meet me up at Jordanson's house, ASAP!"
Perplexed, Bud stared after him. After a second or two, he murmured with disbelief, "Unless he switched branches." The loud slam of the main door to JAG headquarters jerked him back to the present and he rushed after the commander.
***
Unknown location
1049 Romeo
Mac awoke slowly, the hazy fog that covered her brain only just beginning to lift, and glanced around. She was alone. The room was sparsely furnished, but comfortable. A huge fireplace dominated one side of the spacious area and two wing back chairs sat across from her. She looked down and found herself stretched out on a huge overstuffed couch, its fabric gently, but noticeably worn. 'Where am I?' she wondered to herself. 'What happened?'
She raised up on one elbow and caught a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye. "Good," a somewhat familiar voice greeted, "you're awake. I was beginning to think I'd given you too much chloroform."
Inhaling a sharp breath, she sat up and faced her companion. "Evan?" she asked, her features marred by confusion. "Wha-?"
"Shh..." he admonished softly. "I'll tell you everything in time. But first, you need to eat something. I'm sure you're hungry."
Mac shivered slightly at the underlying tone in his words and fear gripped her as she watched him walk back into the adjacent kitchen. Her every sense was on high alert when he emerged a moment later carrying a tray laden with a sandwich and some potato chips. "I'm sorry it's not a Beltway Burger, but I really didn't have time to stop on our way here," Evan murmured as he sat the tray down on Mac's lap.
'Oh my God,' she thought. 'He's been following me.' Fiercely tamping down on her rising panic, Mac set the tray aside and remarked, "I'm not hungry." She ignored his look of concern and rose in an effort to put as much distance between them as possible. Casing the room as she moved, Mac found the only door in the immediate area to be in the kitchen, behind Evan. She took in a calming breath and turned back to face him. "What's going on, Evan?" she asked as she folded her arms, trying to recall every survival skill her uncle and the Marines had taught her.
Evan nodded resignedly and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His easy posture did nothing to quell Mac's sense of impending danger. "You know," he murmured thoughtfully. "As soon as I saw you, I knew..."
"You knew what?"
He smiled, his eyes softening with reverie. "I knew you would understand. You're so much like her, you know. Same personality, same sparkling smile." His features darkened ominously and she steeled herself against the urge to bolt. "I knew who you were when we met. So why did you lie to me?"
Knowing she was missing some integral part to their conversation, Mac shook her head with confusion. "Evan, the first time I met you was in the park. And I didn't lie to you."
He lunged toward her quickly and grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her closer to him. He breathed hotly, "You never told me you were a Marine!" He paused abruptly and placed a light hand against her cheek. The hardness in his eyes melted away and he stroked her lower lip once with his thumb. "You are so beautiful. You <do> know that, don't you? Of course you do. How could you not?" His eyes wandered over her shoulder even though he kept her close. "<She> knew she was. I even told her so many times, but she never wanted to hear that from me." His eyes narrowed as his caress turned into a punishing grip. "Only <him>, never me. But she learned. If I couldn't have her, no one could..."
Fear, pure and heady, sliced through Mac as she processed his last words. It couldn't be a coincidence. 'Oh, my God. He'stheonehe'stheone!' She bit the inside of her cheek in the vain effort to stifle a cry. The slight sound jerked him back to the present and his cold eyes lasered in on hers.
"Are you afraid of me, Sarah?" he asked, a look of surprise stealing over his face. Evan peered into her dark eyes as if trying to reach down into her soul. "You shouldn't be. I only want what's best for you. What's best for us. You'll see." He tugged her face closer to his and brushed his lips over hers. Mac fought the shiver of revulsion that his touch created, knowing she couldn't anger him since she had seen the results of his work first hand.
Instead, she stood perfectly still, almost welcoming, hoping to encourage him to confide in her, to tell her why those four women had to die. A light smile crossed his lips as he pulled away from her. "There, you do understand," he murmured, stroking her cheek once more before loosening his grip and walking back to the couch.
"Actually, Evan," she began cautiously, "I don't understand. Where did we meet for the first time? I'm sure I would have remembered because you are quite an unforgettable man." Mac eased her way closer to him, hoping to skirt around him without drawing too much attention to her actions. If she could just get to the door, she might have a chance. But to do that, she had to get past him first.
He sat down again, and after glancing idly at her uneaten food, picked up a potato chip and studied it. "We met two nights ago, Sarah. I'm sure you don't remember because it really wasn't an official introduction." Evan took a thoughtful bite out of the chip, the crunching noises from his teeth echoed loudly through the room. "You were with that other guy." His eyes narrowed with hate and Mac suppressed a stab of fear when he continued, "Just like <she> was. She never knew to leave him alone either. She never truly realized that I was the only man she needed." He pierced Mac with a sudden, ferocious stare and murmured, "But you realize that now, don't you?"
She nodded her head and sidled past the arm chairs until she was almost directly across from him. Evan lowered his gaze back to the chip before taking another methodical bite. He stared, unseeing at the floor, his mind having traveled back to the past. At length, he murmured distractedly, "I was in the Navy, a lieutenant j.g. in fact, when she transferred in. She was an ensign and every guy on the base was hell bent on getting into her pants. But I was the one who knew her heart." He nodded to himself and Mac edged a few more steps closer to the kitchen.
"I knew she wanted him. I was the man for her, but she wanted <him.>" He smiled evilly as images flitted through his memory. "I watched her every day, as she went to work, when she went home, even when she screwed him. I watched her. I went to every wet down for her. Always brought her a gift. But she always gave it back...and every time she did, she killed a little something inside me. She made it to commander before I couldn't take it anymore."
Mac slowly crept past the couch and was half-way to the kitchen, when the wooden floor squeaked. Stifling a gasp of surprise as a large hand gripped her shoulder, she swung around and landed a hard blow to Evan's temple and shoved him to the floor with a well-placed kick to his solar plexus. Without another thought, she bolted across the remaining distance. One hard yank on the door knob and the door swung open, its hinges screeching their reluctance. She didn't bother to glance over her shoulder when she heard his angry roar; instead she dashed outside and found herself at the edge of a forest.
After he caught his breath, Evan lunged after her, slamming the door in his wake. When he'd reached the outside, she was nowhere to be found. He turned around in a small circle and yelled, "There's nowhere to go, Sarah! You're surrounded by five miles of forest in every direction!"
As soon as he'd turned away from her, Mac bolted through the trees, her mind racing back to her unscheduled stop with Harm in the Appalachian Mountains. 'Harm!' she thought quickly. 'He doesn't know that Evan's the killer!' She cried out sharply as the sleeve of her night shirt snagged on a branch of thorns. Jerking her arm, she ripped the fabric and continued her mad dash through the woods.
Behind her, she could hear Evan slipping between the trees with easy familiarity. She knew it wouldn't be long before he caught up with her. There had to be a road-they had gotten here somehow, and having seen a car out of the corner of her eye when she ran out of the house, she knew they had to have driven here. If she could just get to the road, maybe she had a chance. As it was, her time was running out.
Pausing to get a better look at the area, she sucked in a quick breath. Suddenly, she was thrown to the ground, a heavy body landing on her. 'Shit!' she cursed to herself and muffled a sob, knowing that her brief pause could now cost her her life.
Evan caught her hands behind her and pulled her back up against him. "You said you understood! You were the only who would, but I should've known you'd be just like the others! I thought they would understand, too. But they didn't." He gave her a hard shake before dragging her to her feet. His rough hands would leave bruises later, that is, if she was alive to feel them. She struggled futilely in his grasp. He hadn't looked this strong when she'd met him in the park. In truth, he was somewhat wiry, but the lean figure was all muscle. Evan half- carried, half-dragged her back to the open area that surrounded the house.
"Why did you have to do that, Sarah?" he asked forlornly. "The others tried to run, too, and they were punished...just as you now have to be." He pulled her around to face him, maintaining a bruising grip on her wrists. "Didn't you realize everything was going to be OK? That I would take care of you and love you? I would have done the same for <her>, for them all, but they didn't believe me either." His green eyes pleaded with her to understand even as his grip tightened.
Mac nodded numbly in a vain effort to distract him, but knew by the feral light in his eyes that it was for naught. A sharp cry pierced the forest and Evan's focus snapped away from her to the cry's source somewhere behind her.
"Let her go, Jordanson!"
'HARM!' Mac thought, the sweet taste of relief flooding through her. Evan turned her so that her back was to him and she saw the familiar figure of her partner, his tropicals gleaming brightly in the mid-morning sun.
Rabb heaved an inward sigh, grateful to find Mac still alive, if only just by minutes. He took a few slight steps toward the pair, hands spread wide. "Let her go," he murmured, his words laced with steel. "I know you killed those other women. And I think I know why. Killing my partner will not make Commander Anderson love you." He watched the other man flinch at the sound of her name and he pressed, "That <is> her name, isn't it? You wanted her, but she didn't want you. Am I right?"
Harm eased a little closer as he glanced away from Jordanson and down to his partner. 'You OK?' he asked silently. Her eyes blinked, once for yes. It was an old Marine shorthand that he easily read and understood. Satisfied that she was safe for the moment, he returned his gaze to her captor. "Let her go. Let's talk this out...."
"NO!" Jordanson screamed. "Sarah loves me! She'll show Lisa that I was right! That I am a good man...the <only> man for her!"
Harm shook his head, hoping to distract the man by bringing up old memories in the desperate effort to lull him into loosening his grip on Mac. "But you weren't! Commander Anderson was in love with someone else. Just like Sarah is. She doesn't love you."
Jordanson's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and Harm knew that he'd crossed the line. "She's in love with <you>, isn't she?" he asked, his tone low and easy, but laced with steel. He gripped her harder against him and leaned his mouth down to her ear. "Aren't you?" he breathed, a new idea suddenly springing to mind. Evan reached behind him and unsheathed a large hunting knife, roughly two inches in width and smiled ferally.
Harm gasped as the blade glinted ominously in the sunlight. "But you know what, Sarah," her captor continued in a conversational tone. "I don't think you get to tell him again because you are mine!"
Mac's eyes locked onto Harm's and he read her idea mere seconds before she acted. 'No!' he thought at her, 'It's too dangerous!' But in an instant, she rammed her heel into Evan's shin and tried to squirm out of his arms.
"She's mine! And if I can't have her, no one can!" the man screamed into the woods. Easily clutching her struggling form within his powerful grip, he raised the knife.
"No!" Harm cried unable to keep still. But he was too late. In the blink of an eye, all hell broke loose; however, to Rabb, everything began to run in slow motion.
He watched in horror as Jordanson shoved the knife into Mac's chest. Her blood staining the silky white material of her nightshirt. The sudden addition of the loud whipping of blades of the police chopper which no doubt contained a half a dozen sharp shooters. Harm pulled his sidearm out of its holster and aimed. Mac slowly drooped in the man's arms and Rabb fired quickly into the other man's shoulder. When the assailant fell to the ground, time returned to normal and Harm spanned the distance, which separated him from his partner in mere seconds.
He dropped to his knees and pulled her away from the prone form of her attacker. "Ambulance!" Harm cried desperately as he shoved his fist into the gaping hole in her chest, trying to cut off the blood loss. "I've got to call an ambulance." Gently, he brushed her bangs away from her forehead and placed a light kiss at her temple. "You're gonna be fine, Mac," he whispered. God, he couldn't lose her now. Not when they were just starting to find their way back to each other.
She winced at the stabbing pain as his fist pressed down harder and she wrenched her eyes open. Sucking in a wheezing breath, she forced her mouth to form the words that her brain had been subconsciously repeating ever since she'd seen that he'd come after her. "He's wrong, Harm," Mac forced out between desperate pants for breath. "You had me. You had me all along."
"Shhh..." he admonished frightened by how quickly her olive complexion had faded to an almost sheet white. "Don't talk now."
"Harm!" she gasped and tightly gripped the lapel of his jacket, tugging him closer to her. "Had to tell you. You had to know."
He closed his eyes against the wave of pain that threatened to overwhelm him and was startled by someone trying to ease him away from his partner. "Wha--?"
"It's alright, sir," soothed a trusting voice. "I'm a paramedic. I'm going to take a look at her injuries, but you have to let go of her first."
Harm focused his on the man, and his brain slowly recognized the caduceus that was embroidered on a blue jacket. Reluctantly, he loosened his grip on her and allowed the paramedic to take over.
"You had to know before I go," Mac whispered.
The paramedic glanced quickly between the two officers as he tore the material that covered her wound. Palpating the area carefully, he shook his head wryly. "Sorry to disappoint you, Colonel," he interjected with a smile, "but you're not going anywhere. Good save, Commander."
Harm smiled with relief at the other man's words. "You hear that? We can argue about this later, Jarhead."
Mac closed her eyes, steeling herself against the pain as the paramedic transferred her from the ground to a field gurney. "It's a date, Sailor."
***
Bathesda Naval Hospital
Bathesda, Maryland
Day 5
0716 Romeo
Mac winced as the nurse pulled away the gauze bandages that protected her now-stitched wound from infection. "It's looking good today, Colonel," the woman murmured as she peered intently at the stitches that criss-crossed the officer's chest. The knife had entered between her third and fourth ribs, but unlike the victims, her sudden movement had diverted Jordanson's aim from the heart and the blade had pierced her lung instead.
A few hours in surgery had mended the breach, but she was still under close watch for signs of pneumonia. The nurse muttered something under her breath as she sterilized the area and replaced the bandages. "The doctor'll have to make the final decision, but I think if you behave yourself, he might let you go in the morning." She gave Mac's IV bag a cursory check to make sure she was still getting enough pain medication.
Mac smiled brightly at the thought. Home. She could go home. A short knock sounded on her door and the nurse grinned good-naturedly. "That sailor of yours. He was hard enough to control when you were in surgery and now he's positively <outrageous>...pulling stunts and trying to use his credentials to get into your room..." She patted Mac's arm softly and continued, "I hope you know what you're getting into with that one."
The colonel's smile only widened at the thought and she answered, "I do, believe me, I do." The other woman nodded as she picked up the supplies and tossed the used ones in a biohazard trash can. With a parting smile, she opened the door and let a very impatient naval commander in.
Harm muttered under his breath, "Finally," before quickly making his way toward Mac's bedside. "I swear, Marine, it's like you've been quarantined!" Reaching for her hand, he lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles and gazed intently at her.
Mac smiled as she threaded their fingers together. "They're just trying to make sure I get better."
Rabb settled one hip on her bed and sobered slightly. "Mac, I.." A discreet knock interrupted him. "If that's Bud, he's got worse timing than usual," he muttered under his breath with a rueful smile. When he looked up, he was surprised to find Patrick and Lissa standing in the doorway.
The ME bit her lip, indecision warring on her pretty features and she elbowed the detective murmuring, "I <told> you we should have called before we came." Patrick merely shot her an exasperated look and walked in.
"We thought you'd like to know," he began, glancing between the two officers, "Jordanson was raving in the car when we took him back to D.C. He confessed to killing all four of the women. Apparently, he was trying to get back at Commander Anderson, just like you two thought. He kept repeating the word, 'retribution' over and over again."
Lissa nodded and moved to the other side of the bed. Peering closely at the colonel, she asked, "How are you feeling? The nurses said they couldn't tell us anything."
Mac smiled and gestured slightly with the hand that wasn't held by Harm. "I'm doing OK. The nurse said I might be discharged in the morning."
"Good," Patrick replied, a satisfied smile creeping over his face. He offered his hand to Rabb and said, "It was good working with you, Commander. And you, too, Colonel."
"Yeah," Harm agreed, "but I hope we don't have to do it again."
Chuckling, the detective nodded. "Couldn't agree more." He was about to say something else, to try and keep the conversation from the unavoidable lull, when Lissa grabbed his arm.
She stared pointedly at him and remarked, "You two take of each other." With a smile, she led the detective out of the room. Harm watched as they left and, when the door had shut behind them, he turned back to Mac.
"Now, where was I?" He gazed intently at her and started again. "Mac, I thought-I thought I almost..." An authoritative knock on the door interrupted his words.
Mac couldn't help but smile and roll her eyes. "It's like Grand Central Station," she murmured, giving Harm's hand a reassuring squeeze.
The door opened and the admiral entered followed by Bud, Harriet and Mic. The latter of the group quickly noticed the linked hands of the colonel and commander. With a wry twist of his lips, he thought, 'Well, that wasn't totally unexpected.'
Chegwidden, on the other hand, chose to ignore it and instead greeted, "Colonel, it's good to see you're doing well."
"Thank you, sir," Mac answered with a smile. "I have to tell you, though, a hospital certainly isn't where I thought I'd end up."
The admiral nodded with understanding. He, too, had been relieved when he'd heard that Mac was merely injured and not dead. "I assume the local authorities have the case well in hand?"
"Yes, sir," Harm answered. "Jordanson confessed on his way back to D.C. There won't be any problem prosecuting him."
Nodding once more, he glanced at both before stating, "Well, we just wanted to see that you were alright, Colonel. We'll leave you alone now." He turned and walked toward the door, ordering, "Lieutenants, Commander Brumby, let's go."
With reluctance, the three officers followed him, Harriet sparing a glance back and mouthing the words, 'Call me!' to Mac.
The colonel smiled and nodded her agreement then returned her gaze to Harm once the door had closed. Her eyebrows tilted teasingly and she murmured, "Now, you were saying?"
Rabb chuckled and shook his head slightly. He placed his free hand lightly on her cheek, brushing the wispy strands of her hair back behind her ears. Suddenly, all teasing was gone. "I thought I was going to lose you today, Mac," he murmured as his fingers traced over the line of her brow.
She closed her eyes relishing in the feel of his soft caress. "But you didn't," she murmured huskily.
"Mac, I..."
"Shh..." she admonished raising her free hand to cover his mouth. "I know. I think I've always known." Mac bit her lip slightly hesitant to speak her next words, and yet, knowing they needed to be said. "But we need time."
Reading the sweet mixture of love and firm resolve in her gaze, he pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips and nodded. She was right. Her kidnapping had opened their eyes, but they first had to mend the easy give and take of their relationship before it evolved into something more. He brushed his fingers through her hair satisfied with their better than even odds. Knowing that they both wanted more would go a long way to speeding up the process. There would be less miscommunication and silent, telling glances could be out in the open and not filed away somewhere under "things to ignore."
Mac stifled a yawn and Harm smiled at her slip. Slowly, he leaned down and brushed a light kiss on her forehead. He gave her hand a final squeeze and whispered, "Sweet dreams, Sarah," before slipping off the bed and out of the room.
Mac drifted off to sleep with a contented smile on her lips.
END