Victoria was in the back of the ambulance and Jaxon was feeling a little better after they had given him a muscle relaxer for his back spasms. Apparently the blast had pulled some muscles in his back as he was thrown from the scene.
The place was crawling with local cops and federal agents, and the media circus had arrived, though they had not been allowed access to the site, or given any information. The FBI was running the show and the Chicago office was currently in charge. Jaxon had been on the phone with Holt back in Washington and Victoria had even spoken to him briefly, but she was in no condition to take charge. An agent named Sal Wilmer was heading up the task force at the moment.
Holt had been somewhat cordial with Jaxon, even after being informed his girlfriend had sustained some injuries in the blast. He only touched briefly on her condition and then moved on with the business at hand. Jaxon couldn’t help but think Holt was putting on a show for him and he could tell Victoria was somewhat hurt by her lover’s lack of concern.
“Are you alright?” Jaxon asked her after the paramedic stepped out for some air.
She nodded but remained silent. Her hair was still matted with blood, but her face had been cleaned and a bandage plastered to her forehead, blood seeping into it, showing through the whiteness. She reached up and gingerly touched it, wincing. She squirmed.
“Any word on the SWAT team?” she finally asked.
“No survivors, if that’s what you mean. Just you and I.”
She looked somber at the news but held it together. Jaxon knew how she felt. She was in charge and would take the brunt of the accusations and questions when the investigation into the incident began. Jaxon felt responsible, not only for Sally’s death, but for all the players in tonight’s debacle. He had underestimated this guy and hadn’t reacted quickly enough to the clues he had given them. He should have called it off as soon as he received the text message.
She read his mind. “Stop beating yourself up,” she said. “We both missed it.”
“She was my partner.”
Victoria looked into his eyes and he saw something there he hadn’t realized still existed. She reached out her hand, turned it palm up and wiggled her fingers. It was a gesture so familiar, yet so far gone from his mind all these years that it took him by surprise. She used to do that to him when he’d had a particularly bad day and she used to do it to Michael when he needed a pick me up. He couldn’t help it. He smiled, reached for her hand and clasped her fingers in his. She closed her eyes and put her head back.
One of the FBI agents stuck his head in the door. “Detective Jennings? I think you should see this.”
Jaxon stood, let her hand go and followed the young agent toward the wreckage. The fires had all been put out and the gas line that had shot flames into the night sky had been closed off making the area reasonably safe. The house had pretty much disintegrated leaving the rooms and layout of the structure indistinguishable from the rest of the refuse and scraps strewn throughout the area. A large rectangular box was the only thing left standing mostly intact, and the agent was guiding Jaxon toward it. As he got closer he could see there was a door into the box, which stood eight feet square and was built of some kind of thin aluminum sheeting. A few agents were coming in and out of the box carrying various items wrapped in plastic. Jaxon realized it was a freezer.
The inside of the freezer must be thawing because the items the men were carrying from the box dripped water. He stopped one of the agents and asked what was in the plastic.
“Parts,” he said.
Jaxon must have had a funny look on his face because the man explained. “This is a dog’s head. That’s another dog’s head, and Sheila there has a cat’s head.”
“How many?” Jaxon asked.
“At least thirty animals.”
“Anything else?”
The man nodded. “Are you Jaxon?”
“Yes.” Jaxon felt like his voice was coming from somewhere else.
“There’s something in there for you.” The agent turned and carried his package to a waiting evidence van and Jaxon approached the entrance of the freezer and stepped in.
On the right were five shelves stacked up from floor to ceiling. A man and a woman were going through the various ‘packages’ and they looked up when he stepped in. Neither one said a word. On the back wall was a small table with a single plastic baggy laying on it. Jaxon moved through the cold air as if in slow motion. He couldn’t feel his feet touching the surface of the freezer but he knew his legs were moving him forward because the table was growing larger. A hand came into his view and he realized it was his own. He didn’t want that hand anywhere near the bag, but it seemed to be operating on its own. He watched as if from some far off place as the fingers gripped the bag and picked it up, bringing it closer to his face. There was a piece of freezer tape across the plastic with black lettering spelling some words that Jaxon’s brain could not decipher at first. Snapping himself out of his fog, he concentrated on the lettering. As he read, his body seemed to throb from the force of the words. They were like a physical thing and he couldn’t wrench his eyes away from the small package.
Jaxon.These are not Malcom Switzer’s. They are mine. I return them to you now.
His hands still took on a life of their own as they worked the Ziploc on the baggy, though his mind screamed from some distant place for him to stop. His fingers spread the plastic open and inside were two perfectly preserved ears. A right and a left. Small ears, like that of a child. He heard a gasp behind him and turned to find Victoria with her hand over her mouth and her eyes boring into what he held in his hand.
She whispered, “Michael,” and sank to the floor.