An Emblematic Woman ● S. Reid | ✓

47~ Chess

I threw the empty box of chow mien back onto the coffee table and lay back in the couch. My head felt like it was heating up so fast that it would start whistling like a tea kettle. I looked at Spencer who was still working on the orange chicken.

"You know, if we keep eating Chinese food in the middle of the night, we're both gonna get fat," I told him. He shrugged in response.

"We've had a long day, need to keep up our strength," he said. I sighed.

"I'm not very hungry," I replied.

"Are you thinking about Fiona?" he asked.

"She didn't need to be on that stand today. We would've done fine without her; that little girl will never have her childhood again. She's destroyed, I couldn't save her this time," I replied.

"She's alive, Ken. That's what's important here," he said.

"I have to take the stand tomorrow, I'm not sure if it'll make or break this case," I replied.

"When the jury hears your story, Daniel is done. He is going to rot in prison," he said.

"I never should have got in that van with him, I should have called for back-up," I muttered. I felt his arm wrap around me and pull me into his side.

"You're right, you should have," he said.

"That's not helping," I told him.

"But...let's see what would have happened if you did: he would have driven off, or we would've arrested him but he wouldn't talk, we probably never would have saved Fiona. I think what you did was the right thing, but it was also a very stupid thing," he said.

"Well, I'm not exactly a genius with an IQ of 186," I said.

"187," he said.

"Oh, excuse me," I gasped with sarcasm.

"The point being, I would've done the same thing," he replied. I sighed and looked at the half-eaten Chinese food on the table.

"Well, the good news out of tonight is that we have lunch leftovers for tomorrow," I said.

"And each other," I felt his lips print a kiss on my forehead. As much as I didn't want to, I sat up from his grasp.

"Reid, no offense, but I don't think I'm gonna be the best company tonight," I told him.

"You don't have to, but you also can't be alone tonight either," he replied, "Come on, what do you want to do tonight? We can do anything," he said. I thought about it for a minute, then a silly grin spread across my face; Spencer groaned.

"Okay, maybe not anything," he said. I looked around, then spotted an antique chess set sitting on the book case.

"Can you teach me how to play chess?" I asked. He looked surprised.

"Really?" he asked.

"Sure. I want to learn about something that you love; it'll be a nicer thing to think about," I replied. Spencer smiled and we grabbed the chess set off the book shelf, then set it down on the table.

Morgan

The Paula Rand I had saw two days ago was not the same woman I saw today. This woman could probably pass for homeless if not for her fine choice of clothing. Her hair was a mess, her make up was smeared and running, and she had big dark circles under her eyes.

"Mrs. Rand, we heard you got into a sticky situation a few nights ago," JJ said. She crossed her arms and scowled.

"I don't have to talk to you people," she sneered.

"It's surprises me how a woman with your status hasn't been able to walk out of a pig sty like this," I said.

"My soon-to-be-ex-husband is a dirty bastard. He refuses to pay my bond and get me out of here," she said.

"The charges against you are quite serious: driving under the influence and resisting an officer, you're in a lot of trouble," JJ said.

"Don't remind me," she groaned.

"We heard that you only really drink when you get into a fight with your husband. Care to tell us what it was about?" I asked. She scoffed.

"Are you the FBI or marriage counselors?" she said.

"What was the fight about, Paula?" JJ asked, "Even if you don't tell us, that call is bound to be recorded somewhere in your phone company's files. We can get it in a matter of minutes. And before you know it, you become an accomplice," Paula sighed and slumped in her seat.

"I want a deal," she said.

"Depends on what you have to offer," I told her.

"It could ensure that Daniel Sharrick gets the death penalty, and Jeremy would be sent to a federal prison," she sniveled. JJ and I looked at each other, and we nodded.

"You do six months in a rehabilitation program. With the money you have, it'll get you the best care possible," she said.

"How about full immunity?" she asked.

"Your lawyer would have to speak to the DA, but we could work something out," I told her.

"Very well; but listen close since I'm only going to say this once," she said.

"We're all ears," I said.

"Jeremy has a storage unit in Scranton. He keeps it for all of his -- as he puts it: classifieds," she replied.

"What's in the storage unit?" JJ asked.

"Just a lot of boxes of files and paper work he doesn't want anybody getting their hands on. He has dirt on everybody in that unit," she replied.

"Why did your husband send you up to Scranton?" I asked.

"He needed me to retrieve a brown paper bag with a red seal on it. He said I wasn't allowed to look inside, all I had to do was get rid of it. But when I got inside the storage unit, I couldn't find the bag. It wasn't there," she replied.

"Are you sure?" JJ asked.

"Positive; I searched every little nook and cranny of that filthy place. There was no brown paper bag. When I told my husband, he was furious. He started screaming about how his family name was ruined, and if he was going down the gutter, he was gonna take me with him. I didn't know what else he expected me to do; how else could you dispose of something that disappeared into thin air?" she said.

"And he never told you what was in the bag?" I asked.

"He was very tight lipped about it, all he told me was that it was crucial if I wanted to keep myself living in a ten-million dollar penthouse to get rid of it," she replied, "So, do I get my end of the bargain?" she asked.

"We'll be in touch with your lawyer, he'll take things on from there. You've been very helpful," JJ said.

"Agents, you make sure my husband rots in jail. I don't care if you have to frame him for murder, just keep him away from me!" she snapped. We stood up and left the woman in her own self-loathing.

"Brown paper bag? That was Ken's rape kit," I said.

"But somebody knew Rand hid it and grabbed it first," JJ said.

"Whoever's got that kit has a mighty big piece of leverage over Rand now," I said.

"That noose is getting tighter, he's getting desperate," she said.

"So desperate, he's using Sharrick as his personal puppet to make Kennedy a martyr on the stand,"