Jack in the Box

M

Maze

Rookie
Atlanta, Georgia

Six Years ago. . .

A shot rang out across the plaza, U.S. Marshall Ben Jensen immediately went for cover and grabbed his walkie. “Shot fired in the main plaza, get the witness to cover, Wolfe can you get a visual on the shooter?”

Silence

“Wolfe, do you have a visual?”

Nothing

Jensen scowled at his partner’s lack of response.

“Wilson, Harris, do you have the witness secure?”

“Witness is secure Jensen.”

“Keep him that way; do we know where the shooter is?”

“I have a visual, there’s an abandoned rifle on one of the upper balconies, the shooter has fled the scene.”

“Send out men to find the shooter, he’s probably running on foot. I’m going to track down Wolfe.”

“Sure thing boss.”

Jensen moved toward his partner’s last known position, cursing under his breath as he went.

“I swear, if she went after this guy on her own I’ll kill-” he cut himself off when he saw the blood. “Amalie!”

Turning the corner Jensen found Amalie Wolfe motionless on the ground.

Jensen hurried toward his fallen friend. “We have a man down! I repeat, man down. Get an ambulance here now!”

Kneeling beside his partner, he gently rolled Amalie on her back and searched for a pulse. She was still alive.Jensen could heard the sound of an approaching ambulance.

“Come on Amalie, stay with me. Ryan will kill both of us if you die.”

Miami, Florida

Present Day

C.S.I. Ryan Wolfe and C.S.I. Calleigh Duquesne stood in the parking lot of the Miami-Dade police station at what many would consider to be an unholy hour of the morning: 5 AM. The atmosphere was sullen, even for a crime scene. Frank Tripp walked up to the pair.

Calleigh spoke first, “What do we have Frank?”

“Cedric Beauregard, age 30; Been on the force for seven years. Another cop found him shot to death on the way in this morning. Strange thing, there was a jack-in-the-box found next to his body.”

“A jack-in-the-box?” questioned Ryan with a worried tone.

“Yes,” replied Tripp, “that mean anything to you?”

“It’s a signature, he calls himself Jack.”

“You’ve heard of this guy before?” asked Calleigh.

“He’s been killing law enforcement for over a decade. Excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”

Ryan watched as Ryan walked away, and then turned back to Tripp.

“Do you get the feeling that he didn’t tell us something?”

Tripp nodded in agreement.

A few feet away, Ryan was waiting for someone to pickup on the other end of the line. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Jensen.”

“Ben, this is Ryan.”

Ah, Ryan, it’s good to hear from you. What’s up?”

“Jack’s in Miami.”

“What! Are you sure?”

“The police found a jack-in-the-box next to the body of a cop this morning.”

“I’m on the next flight to Miami.”

“Thanks Ben, call me when you land.”

“Sure thing.” Ryan hung up, and turned to see that Tripp and Calleigh were standing right behind him.

“That was Ben Jensen, a U.S. Marshall and sort of an expert of an expert on Jack. He’ll be here as soon as he can.”

Calleigh raised an eyebrow, “This guy just happens to be on your speed dial?”

“We go back.”
 
Atlanta, Georgia

Six Years Ago

Ben Jensen watched Amalie Wolfe’s face intently, searching for any signs on consciousness. There were noises around him, but he barely heard it. Every thing around him was moving too fast. Numbly he felt himself being pulled away from Wolfe, someone was speaking to him asking him what happened. Jensen shook his head; what ever he was being asked, he probably didn’t know the answer to. He turned away and watched as they put Wolfe onto a stretcher, and loaded her into the ambulance. He made a move to follow, wanting to be with his partner, but the door was closed before he had taken a few steps. One of the other Marshals, no wait it was his boss, guided him to a car. The slamming door brought Jensen back to reality; he looked over at his boss.

“Where are they taking her?”

“St. Elizabeth’s, Jensen, you should call her family.”

“Her parent’s died in a crash last year, her brother’s the only family she has left.”

His boss gave him a worried look, “Ben, are you going to be OK?”

“My partner is in an ambulance, I don’t know if she is going to make it, and now I have to call her kid brother and tell him that he may be losing another family member. Do you have any idea how close those two are?”

“Ben, calm down. Think about what needs to be done.”

Jensen shook his head as if to clear it, and then reached for his cell phone. He hated to break the news to Ryan, but Jensen knew he was the most appropriate person for the job.

Miami, Florida

Present Day

Calleigh examined the box from every angle; from all appearances, it was a normal jack-in-the-box. She held the box in one hand and turned the know with the other. Then music for the box was normal. She gave the knob a few more cranks.

“I always thought that music was creepy.” an unfamiliar voice stated unexpectedly.

Calleigh was startled and nearly dropped the box. She turned a man had entered the room without her noticing.

“Miss Duquesne? My name is Ben Jensen, I’m the Marshal Ryan called to help with the case.” He set a box of files down of the table.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ryan tells me you know a bit about our killer.”

“Yes ma’am I do.” said Jensen with a smile.

“Call me Calleigh, how exactly did you become an expert on this guy?”

The smile faded from Jensen face, “Didn’t Ryan tell you?”

Calleigh gave him a confused look.

“No, I guess it’s still a sore subject for him. Ryan’s sister, Amalie Wolfe, was my partner. She was murdered in 2000.”

“By this Jack-in-the-box character?”

“Yes, Ryan saw his face, the description he gave us is the best lead we have.”

“Wait, Ryan saw this guy?”

“Yeah, but he definitely won’t like talking about that.”

Calleigh was about to ask another question when Ryan entered the room carrying another box of files.

“OK,” Ryan said, “let’s get started.”
 
Atlanta, Georgia

Six Years Ago

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the sunlight streaming through a window, which immediately struck Amalie as odd. Had she slept through her alarm? She then became aware of a hissing sound, an odd smell, and air being blown up her nose. Definitely not normal. Why was she on oxygen? She could feel a dull throbbing in her chest and hear the steady beeping of a machine. It was about then that Amalie remembered being shot. How had she managed to forget that? Whatever they had given her, it must have been some strong stuff. Slowly, she forced her eyes open.

“Hey, sleeping beauty awakens.” Her partner remarked lightly.

“Jenny,” she tried to use a stern tone, but all she could manage was a whisper, “I will kill you.”

Her partner mock scowled at the use of the nickname. “You just had a near death experience, aren’t you supposed to be nice now?”

“No”

Her boss and one of the doctors walked in the room.

“Ah, I see our patient is awake.”

“No crap?” Amalie muttered to noone in particular, Jensen was the only one to catch it.

Her boss stood beside Jensen. “How is she Ben?”

“She’s still making smart aleck remakes so,-”

“Hey,” Amalie interjected, “SHE is awake.”

“-I don’t think there’s any brain damage.”

“On a more serious note,” said her boss, “Amalie, your brother should be here in about an hour.”

Miami, Florida

Present Day

Calleigh looked around the evidence room, the walls were covered in pictures of Jack’s victims, the earliest being Fred Shields, a beat cop who was murdered back in ‘94, and the latest being from Cedric Beauregard, who had died yesterday. The locations varied as well, his killings stretched from Texas to Rhode Island. Calleigh turned back to the file she had been studying, Amalie Wolfe. Of all of the cases, her’s gave the most clues, it was also the hardest to read through. Amalie had easily, Jack had been sloppy on his first attempt, and the U.S. Marshal had lived. On his second attempt, he had been seen by Ryan, although it had been to late at that point to save Amalie. Jack had injected a chemical into Amalie’s IV, which caused the seizure than ended the young woman’s life.

“Guys,” said Calleigh, “how did Jack know where Amalie was?”

Ben looked up from Cedric’s file. “Local news, the jack-in-the-box wasn’t found until after the news reached the press. At that point, it was treated as an attempt to kill a witness. It didn’t occur to us until late that Amalie was the real target.”

“How did they miss the box.”

“We were more concerned with catching the shooter.”

“Other than being law enforcement, are there any other similarities in the victims?”

“All were under 35, and most had reputations as being wild cards.”

“Wild cards?”

“Unpredictable.”

“You said ‘most,’ who doesn’t fit that description?”

“Nikki Boels, the Fed who was killed in ‘97, and Stanley Cripe, highway patrol ‘04, I think they must have gotten to close to Jack.”

Ryan looked up from the file he’d been reading. “If that’s true, then why didn’t he come after me?”

Jensen gestured to a pile of letters that Jack had written throughout the years, “This guys an egomaniac, when he kills cops, he feels powerful, which boosts his ego. He must not have thought a college kid was worth his time.”

Ryan had a determined look on his face. “Let’s make him regret that.”

Jensen smiled sadly. “Like sister like brother.”
 
Atlanta, Georgia

Six Years Ago

Ryan Wolfe had gotten the call from Ben Jensen at ten in the morning, which was about halfway through his advanced chemistry class. Now, several hours and who knew how many run stop signs later, he stood outside of his sister’s hospital room. Taking a deep breath, Ryan opened the door and walked in.

“Wow sis, you look like crap.”

“Ha! I’m still a heck of a lot prettier than you.”

Jensen, who was standing near the foot of Amalie’s bed, only shook his head; he had known the two long enough to know that this was normal for the siblings.

“Well Wolfe,” said Jensen, addressing his partner, “since your babysitters here, I have to go. Nice seeing you Ryan, try to keep her out of trouble.”

“Sure thing.”

“Good night Jenny.”

“Wolfe,” Jensen said with some annoyance, “Don’t call me Jenny.”

“Whatever you say Jenny.” Jensen rolled his eyes and left the room, muttering about the effect of morphine on his partner.

When the two Wolfes were alone, Ryan was finally able to really see how bad his sister looked, and frankly it worried him.

“Don’t look so worried Ryan, I’m not dead yet.”

“Amalie, you nearly were. Do you know how worried I was when I heard that you had been shot?”

His sister’s face turned serious. “Hey,” she said softly, “I’m not going to leave you alone Ryan, I promise.”

Ryan shook his head. “You can’t promise that, you don’t know what-”

Amalie cut him off. “Ryan, I’m not going to die on you, you’re my brother, my little brother, which means that whatever I say is right, and I say that I’m not going to die, not until I’m old and have lots of nieces and nephews. Got it?”

She was looking Ryan dead in the eyes. Slowly he nodded his head. “Got it.”

“Good, besides, you’re not getting my motorcycle that easily.”

They both laughed, all the tension that had built up eased.

“Now, how ‘bout you getting your poor caffeine deprived sister some coffee?”

“Is it ok with your doctor?”

“What Doctor Obvious doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

“Doctor Obvious?”

“Yes, I’m serious, the guy’s you with a stethoscope. Now go, fetch me my coffee.”

Laughing Ryan left the room.

Miami, Florida

Present Day

Jack was bored, the game was getting old. Nothing seemed challenging anymore.

“Well,” Jack muttered, “If the game isn’t fun, then it’s time to change the game.”

The killer sat in silence for some time then slowly, a plan formed in Jack’s twisted mind.

“Oh yes, this will be fun!”

At the lab, Ryan, Calleigh, Jensen, and now Tripp were giving one last look over the victim’s case files, trying to come up with another connection between the targets. There results so far were nada, zilch, null, and nothing.

“Ok,” said Ryan, “I’m going to give the autopsy reports to Alexx, see if she can find anything, but I think we’ve done all that we can today.”

After a few good nights, the four left the building to go to their homes, or in Jensen’s case, Ryan’s home. One of them never made it.

next chapter

I would also like to point out that while he generally is masculine, it can also be non-gender, so when the perp is referred to as he or him by Amalie, I might not mean a man. She’s drugged up and can’t decide on the gender lol.

Atlanta, Georgia

Six Years Ago

As soon as Ryan left the room Amalie crashed down into her pillow, she was weaker than she had let on, and the dizzy spells she was getting weren’t helping either. Alone in her room, she soon found herself drifting off to sleep.

When Amalie awoke, someone was leaning over her, at first glance she was certain it was a man, but there was something off about the bone structure, the lower parts of the face seemed to fleshy to be real. There was also the smell, it was a faint rubbery scent, barely detectable over the other hospital smells.

“Who are you?”

The persons gaze met her, and Amalie knew she was in trouble. Those were not the eyes of a sane person, they were the eyes of a madman. His gaze left her’s and turned back to Amalie’s IV, that’s when the marshal noticed the needle in the his hand. Knowing that she was in trouble, Amalie reached for the needle and open her mouth to yell for help. The intruder hit her over the head, with his free hand. Then he inserted the needle into the IV and pushed the plunger. Amalie heard the door to the room open, it was Ryan. There was shouting, but Amalie couldn’t make out the words, whatever she had been given worked fast.

She heard glass breaking.

She couldn’t breathe.

She lost control of her body, and began thrashing wildly.

She saw Ryan rush toward her trying to stop the trashing, begging her to hold on.

A doctor pulled him away, there were people in the room, she couldn’t make sense of anything. Some part of her knew what was happening, but the rest of her fought the knowledge.

I made a promise.

“We’re losing her!”

I’m so sorry Ryan.

The heart monitor flat lined, Amalie Wolfe was dead.

Miami, Florida

Present Day

It was late morning at the lab, Jensen, Ryan, and Calleigh were all hard at work on the case, desperately trying to find a new lead.

They were pulled from there work when Alexx walked into the room. “I think I might have found something.”

Ryan stood and walked toward the M.E. “What is it?”

“It’s the autopsy report on the F.B.I. agent, Nikki Boels, it looks like the results make have been tampered with.”

Calleigh was about to ask a question when her cell phone rang, she stepped out of the room to answer it.

Jensen, who was by now also standing with Alexx and Ryan, asked the next question, “What to you mean ‘tampered with?’”

“I mean that the results of the DNA test used to ID Nikki’s remains can’t possibly be right.”

“Why?”

“Because, the DNA has a Y chromosome.”

“So, we have no body for Agent Boels?” asked Jensen.

“Exactly.”

“Wait a minute,” said Ryan, as he walked over to the table and started flipping through the Fred Shields case file, “guess who the first agent on the scene of Franks death was.”

Jensen scowled, “Nikki Boels, dang it! Why didn’t I see that before!”

Ryan looked at his sister’s old partner, you had no reason too, by the time the look into the case, Agent Boels was already dead.”
 
Washington DC

Six Years Ago

The past several days had been a blur for Ryan, a long horrible blur. He hadn’t slept; when he did he relived that day in the hospital over and over again until he woke up screaming for his sister. Ryan looked to his right, where Jensen was standing next to him; he looked as bad as Ryan felt. Between hunting for his partners killer and helping Ryan make arrangement for Amalie’s funeral, Ben probably hadn’t gotten much sleep either. Ryan glanced to his left where his uncle Ron stood, and past him Ryan’s cousin Mariska stared forward numbly. She was looking right at what Ryan’s eyes were trying to avoid: Amalie’s open casket.

“She just looks like she’s sleeping.”

Ryan looked at his uncle who had just spoken, then, finally, at his sister.

She didn’t look like she was sleeping, she looked dead, which was fitting. Comforting actually, he didn’t think he would have been able to stand it if it looked like Amalie was going to wake up at any minute. She wasn’t, she was dead. No more late night calls to see how he was doing, no more surprise visits to his campus just because she had been it the area. All that was left were memories and a broken promise.

“I’m not going to leave you alone Ryan, I promise.”

Not once in his life could Ryan every remember Amalie going back on her word, but now she had. She had left him alone. He didn’t feel angry, he felt empty, and that was far worse. He knew it wasn’t her fault, she had fought death. She had lost. Funny, Ryan couldn’t ever remember her losing a fight either.

Miami, Florida

Present Day

Frank Tripp regained consciousness slowly. The last thing he could remember was a man coming at him with a gun, seeing the man pull the trigger, and everything going dark. Apparently, it had been a tranquilizer gun. Now, he was tied to a chair in what looked to be a warehouse.

When he was fully awake, Tripp began to take a better look at his surroundings. He could make out several catwalks overhead, the shapes of different machines around him, but what really drew his attention was the full body suit and mask on the table.

“What on earth?”

“Surprised Detective? Is the whole thing a little too Scooby Doo for you.”

Tripp gaped as the speaker walked into view. ‘Jack’ was a woman, a woman Tripp recognized from the case files. Nikki Boels.

“How-” began Tripp.

“-am I alive?” she interrupted, “I faked my own death. It was easy, rig a bomb, alter a few reports. Nobody suspected a thing.”

“But why?”

“Why what? Why kill people, or why fake my own death.”

“Both.”

“Power, it’s fun to watch people die, to know you have the power over who lives and who dies. As for my death, someone would have caught on eventually, and my fun would have been over.”

“You're sick.”

“I know. But moving on, your friends should find us soon, and then the fun can really begin.

AN: (Runs away)
 
Washington, D.C.

Six Years Ago

The small church was filled to capacity for the funeral of Amalie Wolfe. Most were co-workers or people whom the U.S. Marshal had protected. People with a passing relationship with her had come to ‘morn the passing of a great Marshal.’ Some senator’s words, not Jensen’s.

Ben cleared his throat, stepping up to the pulpit.

“Amalie would have hated this; her least favorite subject was herself.” There was a small tittering of laughter, mostly by the few who knew her well. “I knew Amalie for four years, and in that time, I saw her go from a rookie to one of the best Marshals I’ve had the pleasure to work with. She was the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Spirited and bright, she did the right thing, even if it got her into trouble. Which it did . . . often.” Jensen stopped a moment, remembering several such moments. “She loved her family, her job, her friends. She loved God. Amalie always found comfort in faith. Last year, when her parents died, she found peace in the fact that her parents had put their faith in Jesus and were in Heaven with him. Now Amalie is with them again, because she put her faith in the same place.” Jensen gestured to the closed casket. “This isn’t Amalie. Her soul has gone home, and all we have left are our memories of her and the impact she left on all of our lives. Amalie hated funerals, but she loved celebrations. So I’m not here for the funeral of my dead partner, I’m here to celebrate the life of my best friend. ”

Jensen stepped down from the pulpit and took his seat by the Wolfe family. Smirking as the words to Amalie’s favorite song displayed on the projector screen, completely inappropriate for a funeral of course, but perfect for a celebration.

I could sing unending songs

Of how you saved my soul

I could dance a thousand miles

Because of your great love

My heart is bursting Lord

To tell of all you've done

Of how you changed my life

And wiped away the past

I want to shout it out

From every rooftop sing

For now I know that

God is for me not against me

Everybody's dancing now

'Cause we're so happy

Everybody's singing now

'Cause we're so happy

If only we could see your face

See you smiling over us

Unseen angels celebrate

For the joy is in this place

Miami, Florida

Present Day

Ryan, Jensen, Calleigh, and a small SWAT team stood outside of the warehouse that Dan Cooper had guided them to using the signal from Tripp’s cell phone. As soon as everyone was in position, The signal was given to move in

The area was large and dark, with sheets a thick semi-transparent plastic hanging from the ceiling and various pieces of machinery scattered about, giving ‘Jack’ plenty of places to hide. Ryan moved silently toward the center of the building where he could see a figure sitting in a chair. As soon as he got past the last sheet of plastic he could clearly see that it was Frank. He had been tied to the chair and gagged, but he was conscious and trying to get out of the chair.

Rushing to his friend, Ryan toreoff the tape covering Tripp’s mouth and began working on getting the detective free.

“It’s a trap; she wanted you all here!”

Ryan only had a moment to absorb what Tripp said before the sound of explosions filled the room. Visibility dropped to almost zero as heavy smoke filled the room. Out of the corner of his eye Ryan saw movement, and barely ducked in time as someone swung a knife at his neck. Ryan moved away from Frank and his attacker followed.

“‘Jack’ I presume, or should I call you Nikki?”

“It doesn’t matter; you’ll be dead soon.”

Ryan pulled out his gun.

“Somehow, I don’t see that happening.”

“You really gonna shoot me? Oh wait, I forgot, I killed big sis didn’t I? You’re here for revenge. So come on; shoot me.”

Ryan didn’t move; he just kept his gun trained on her. Then, another explosion went off behind him. Ryan was knocked to the ground, and lost his grip on the gun in the process. It spun out of sight, lost in the impenetrable smoke. Nikki had been knocked down as well, and the force of the explosion made her lose her knife in a similar fashion. She looked at Ryan for a split second, and then ran. Wasting no time he took off after her, following closely as she sprinted up a set of stairs, but losing ground when she began to weave through stacks of boxes. Soon however, he had he trapped in an office, with backup only moments away.

“It’s over Nikki, just surrender.”

“Never.”

Nikki looked at Ryan, then at the SWAT team that had come up behind him. She moved toward the broken office window.

“I end this on my terms, not yours!”

Realizing what she intended to do, Ryan stepped forward.

“Don’t!”

It was too late, Nikki jumped. Her body plummeted downward and hit the concrete with a sickening splat. Ryan walked over to the window and stared at the grisly remains of the monster who had ended his sisters life.

It was over.
 
OOH you updated! :D I'm lovin' this story, Maze! You gotta update soon hun! ;)

OT: Sissi, Your icon rocks, ;)
 
OK, here’s the epilogue. The last line of the story is a quote from the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-11.) A billion thanks to all who read this fic, I can’t tell you how much you have helped me. Extra love to my CaRWash ladies (or gentlemen) from talk. Here’s your shipness.

Washington, D.C.

Six Years Ago

Ryan Wolfe stood alone in the nearly empty graveyard. It had been two days since they had buried Amalie, and Ryan was heading back down to Florida in a few hours. Slowly, Ryan knelt and lay a bouquet of lilies of the fresh grave.

“Hey sis, it’s me.” Ryan stopped. He felt kind of foolish talking to a grave. “I’m heading home today; I just wanted to tell you that I’m not mad at you. I was for a while, but then I realized that you tried, I know you did. I’m going to make you proud sis. I’m switching my major. I can’t help people with a business degree. I’m not quite sure what I’m going to do yet, but one of my professors once told me I would make a good forensic scientist, so I’ll try that.”

Ryan stood to his feet and wiped of his jeans. He started to leave, but stopped.

“And sis, next time I’m here it will be to tell you that they caught they guy who did this to you. I promise you that.”

Washington, D.C.

Present Day

Ryan Wolfe and Calleigh Duquesne stood alone in the nearly empty graveyard. It had been six years since Amalie had been interned. Slowly, Ryan knelt and lay a bouquet of lilies of the fresh grave. Calleigh stood a small distance back giving Ryan some privacy.

“Hey sis, told you I’d come back. We got him, her actually. Not quite the justice I was hoping for, but I’m not complaining. I’m a C.S.I. now, could not be happier. See they pretty blonde behind me? That’s my co-worker Calleigh. She’s kinda my girlfriend now too. I can imagine you’re rolling in your grave right now, and if your wondering, yes, Jensen pushed me into asking her out. I can’t tell you how much I miss you Amalie, we all do, but I’ll see you again someday. You’ll forgive me if it’s not anytime soon.”

Smiling slightly Ryan stood up and dusted off his pants. Turning around, he held out his arm to Calleigh.

“Let’s go. I know a great restaurant nearby.”

Before they had gotten too far, Ryan turned and looked at his sister’s grave. It was simple adorned with the seal of the U.S. Marshals, and a few words.

Amalie Renee Wolfe

March 12, 1974- May 30, 2000

“...Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, For they shall be filled . . . ”
 
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