>THE SAFEHOUSE
>1040HRS...///

They’d made it back in good time, Tom going just slightly above the speed limit. Once they had all gathered in the living room couches, Donnelley took his usual place of leaning against the kitchen table with his arms crossed. He looked to Foster and then to Laine, “You got this?”

Dr Laine nodded at him, taking out her notebook and the autopsy report, “Yes, thank you.”

She took a seat on one of the chairs opposite of Foster and said, “I have quite a bit of information, we’ll start with the autopsy, I have a copy of the report if you’d like to read it in detail but I’ll give you and the rest of those that were not there the highlights.”

Flipping it open, she could see copies of the xrays Bakker had taken, the black shard showing up in the heart of the victim. Laine cleared her throat, “Jane Doe, age 16-23 years, cause of death massive internal bleeding caused by an unknown foreign object. The examiner believed it to have been inserted vaginally with the intent to cause internal injury, there was extensive lacerations to the uterus, cervix and punctures where the object was somehow shoved...ah, shoved through the uterine wall and up until it lacerated the liver, punctured the right lung and finally lodged into the heart, causing death.”

Laine flipped the page, her hands gripping the folder as she continued to read the summaries in a neutral voice, “Other significant trauma was the amputation of the tongue, the removal of the vocal cords and the entire epidermis and dermis layer. This was likely performed while the victim was still alive. Midazolam and Propofol both found in her system, these drugs would have rendered her immobile but no analgesic showed up in the drug tests. She felt everything.” 

She paused, taking a deep breath then looked at Foster, handing him the report. “I’ll need a copy of that to reference.”  

“Of course.” Foster nodded, turning to Donnelley, “We’ve got the shard in our custody? Program is going to want it.”

Donnelley nodded, “It’s in the garage.”

“Secure as ever, Donnelley.” Foster smirked. 

Donnelley rolled his eyes, and turned back to Laine, “What about the Ranger?”

“I guess you’re not sending that piece of the puzzle to CJIS,” Laine commented then opened her notebook, flipping to the page of scribbled writing. “Ranger Frank Wilkins...first I’d like to note that this kid is not a local, and he is shit scared. He reiterated basically what Detective Roy said about Blackriver, people and things disappear and no one talks about it. He’s nervous, he said something about the hills having ears, like that’s a local accepted fact. He gave me a lot of information, Mr Foster but he wants out. A transfer and he’s been stonewalled by his supervisors. I told him I would try to help get him out. And I think we need to and I believe what he told me to be factual.”

Laine glanced down at the paper and said, “He told me that he was walking the trail that used to be part of an old railway to the mines and saw something, he described it as a ‘ripple’ like a heat mirage and heard a scream...then another voice, a whisper saying ‘come and see’. Mr Wilkins then followed, despite what he described as not being a brave man, and he left the trail and came onto the scene where the body was. He said nothing about any figures or footprints, even sounds in the brush only the voice. He also said the body had cloth on it, he said it looked like silk and it was black with white writing. He did not get close enough to read it but he said it was not letters, rather ‘scribble’ I take that to mean some sort of abstract symbol or character writing such as Arabic or Chinese. Of course, unless you or Roy have it, the cloth has disappeared into the Sheriff’s vaults.” 

She paused here, looking at Foster then Donnelley, allowing them time before moving on.

Tom listened intently to the report from Dr. Laine. “Heather, what force would be required to move the shard from the vaginal entrance to the heart? There is no way a human could shove it up there with their arm.”

Laine shook her head slightly, “I don’t know, perhaps some sort of...spear? No splinters were found, maybe it was attached to metal.”

Tom nodded his head. A slender shaft would be required for that sort of penetration. Tom then looked at Donnelley, “Boss, if Mr. Mathieu and I are going to escort Senior Airman Weissman to wherever she is going to launch her drone, I should change out of my FBI suit and into something a bit more comfortable.”

Donnelley nodded, “I’d hope so. You’ll all be rolling in full gear. We’ll insert you along one of the forest roads up there and you’ll hike near the scene to somewhere secluded. Try to find a ridge. Take a satellite phone with you and make sure to check in three times a day.” Donnelley shifted in his seat and tightened his folded arms, “If you catch a glimpse of this guy moving around out there, call it in. I don’t want you to engage unless you have full confidence.”

“Do we have any Night Vision devices?” Tom asked.

“Anything anybody didn’t bring in, we don’t have. I can make a call to have some sent in. The drone should be equipped with IR and night vision.” Donnelley shrugged.

“Before you go running off into the hills,” Laine interrupted, “You need to hear what he told me about the old mines.” 

Tom was thoroughly curious about her conversation with Wilkins. He nodded, “Certainly.”

Glancing at her notepad then up at Tom then Donnelley, “There’s mines up there, dating back to the Civil War era, so well over one hundred years old. He said they have always been associated with...well local legends, ghost stories, etc. Even the native people that once lived in this area called it a bad place of bitter water and air. It could be something natural, geological or it could mean something else. Something that might be up your...well, our alley.” 

She continued, “A few years back, 2007 or 09, a man fell into the mines and was rescued by the sheriff. He apparently was screaming about a devil being down there with him. This man, David Dulane, is still alive at least as far as anyone knows, kicking around in Beckley Prison. I think we should talk to him as soon as we can. He saw something, or he was tripping balls, either way we need to make sure.”

Laine cleared her throat, refocusing, “There was a pair of hikers Mr Wilkins spoke of, they were missing and he said the Park Rangers found the husband but he didn’t continue when talking about what happened to the wife. Seeing his face, I can tell you it wasn’t good. Wilkins is scared and he said he’d call me in two days, I gave him my card. He’s probably wanting me to make good on my promise to try and get him out of there and he’ll tell me the rest, including the names of the lost hikers.” 

She went silent, looking around the room and came back to Foster and Donnelley, “The rest is details I need to sort out of my notes but that’s the chunk...oh, one more thing.”

Laine tipped her notepad at Donnelley, “I asked Wilkins if he had ever visited the Sheriff and he said they had to report the lost hikers. Guess what happened?”

“Uh huh.” Donnelley nodded slow, his frown deepening. “I want to find out if the Sheriff’s case files are digital or not. I can try getting an inside man. If that doesn’t work…”

"Hicks usually have digital now, it's 2019 guys." She said typing away on her crack top.

Foster and Donnelley met eyes. Foster nodded and Donnelley’s smirk returned. “Vacation. By the way. Sheriff is either somewhere else or hiding in his office. Either way, he’s making it hard to get to him.”

“Yea and since you can’t see their files without seeing the sheriff, they don’t want you to see the sheriff,” Tom added.

“Fucking exactly. Somehow, someone is going to cut out the middleman. And when that happens,” Donnelley nodded to Gwen. “You know the rest.”

Gwen looked confused as to why the old man was nodding at her. "Yep, definitely." She said, probably something about hacking.

“That doesn’t get us the cloth,” Laine pointed out, “I want to see it.” 

“Don’t be surprised when it shows up one day.” Donnelley muttered just loud enough for Laine while making like his hands were mighty interesting.

She glanced at him then pressed her lips together to suppress a smile but said nothing. Looking down at her notepad, she addressed Foster, “I think we owe Frank Wilkins our help, is there anything you can do to get him transferred out? You probably have more pull than I do.”

“I can try.” Foster shrugged, not seeming too committal. “Any other questions, anyone?”

Laine sighed inwardly, then nodded at Foster’s answer. She would need to do some calls on her own to try and get Ranger Wilkins out of the backwoods Bermuda Triangle. Or get their park ranger to help, Laurie might earn his free breakfast afterall. She turned to Donnelley, catching his eye and tilted her head towards the front door and mined smoking, “Can I talk to you real quick, alone?” She then headed outside, taking off her jacket to leave draped on the chair, her shoulder holster still in place. 

On the porch she waited, an unlit black cigarette dangling between her fingers as she leaned her forearms on the railing. The view was decent if one could ignore the occasional black plume of coal smoke and the stink that mingled with sunwarmed pine. 

Donnelley looked at Foster and raised his eyebrows. Not waiting for any cue or answer from the other man, Donnelley rose and went for the door, closing it behind him as he tucked a cigarette between his lips. He looked once more at the door before sighing, flicking his lighter and drawing in the first drag.

[hr]

“Yeah?” Donnelley asked. He wasn’t sure what this was about at first, but like a fly buzzing in his face he soon caught onto an idea. “Ah. Go ahead.”

Laine turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him then stood up straight. She shook her head slightly, gathering her thoughts and temper. Finally she turned to face him, unlit clove cigarette pointed his direction. “If you ever bring that girl to any interview I’m involved in, I’ll walk home. I have never seen such behavior from a so called professional, and imitating a federal agent on top of that. She’s been nothing but rude and disrespectful since she got here. If this...”

She made a motion to them both and then the cabin, “Is boring for her, she can take her wiseass home. Or not, whatever...I’m just pissed off, Donnelley. She could have ruined that interview, clawing and rubbing up against that poor man.” 

Laine sighed and shook her head, then gestured for a light, her eyes on his. Donnelley held them before giving her a sympathetic nod, offering his lighter out to her. At the same time, he spoke, “This is how this works. We don’t do applications. I didn’t even get to read her file and give a green light for that.” He knew that would do nothing for Laine, but he continued, “Foster needs her, and we don’t have any other people who can operate SIGINT equipment, drones, or hack shit wanting to transfer into UMBRA. The best I can do is send her out into the damn forest so she can play with some toys like she wants.”

He took another drag, inhaling sharp through his teeth and blowing it through his nostrils. He crossed his arms, leaning on the parapet of the deck, “Leastways, she’s Tom and Laurie’s problem and we get eyes on those old rail lines.” He looked at Laine, “I’m sorry. No more of her for interviews, keep her stimulated and in the field. That’s where she wants to be, that’s where she’ll be.”

Laine blew fragrant smoke between her lips, looking at the forest beyond the cabin. “That’s fine, put her to use where she’ll be useful. I know I didn’t handle her attitude in the parking lot very well but...”

She shrugged, crossing one arm over her waist and held her other arm crooked, cigarette smoldering away. “I trust you to handle it. And as for Laurie, I need him to help me get Frank Wilkins transferred somewhere else. I’m afraid to ask if he knows any higher ups well enough to call in a favor. I’m worried for this dude, Wilkins, he’s really a mess. The experience has been rough but his fear is what really seems to be gnawing at him.” 

“I saw through the window.” Donnelley frowned, “I’ve heard shit like this before. Everybody’s got their own brand. Back in Afghanistan, some spook came to take us on a field trip to Pakistan.”

He sighed, taking another drag, “We tried to get a guide and a couple fighters from the tribe to come along. When they knew where we were going they just turned around and walked the other way.”

“If Foster won’t do it, I can try.” Donnelley offered Laine a consoling smile. “Moving Frank.”

She nodded, smoking in silence for a few moments, she watched the tree tops swaying in the breeze. “They know here, too. We’re just visitors, they have to live here. Same story all over. When I started with the Bureau I was a field agent at the LA office. Those hoods could be as tight lipped and suspicious of everyone not from there. Especially with badges, a snitch label could get someone killed.”

Laine glanced at him and returned his smile, “I appreciate it, I like to keep my word and I don’t want something to happen to him, he did a brave thing. And I know how it feels to stumble onto something...like that.” 

Donnelley nodded, “You’re good people.” He smiled at her, taking another drag, “I’m pretty sure I could at least get him witness protection.”

With a relieved smile, Laine finished her cigarette, snuffing it against the post and kept the filter in her hand so she could throw it away inside. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Keep trying to save the world.” 

There was an engine in the distance, the countryside quiet for now and sound carried on the wind. Laine looked over at Donnelley, “I think someone’s coming.”

“Fucking Christ…” Donnelley breathed. He lifted up his shirt and fully unholstered his FN, setting it on the banister under his palm.

The vehicle came into view from behind the treeline, a dark SUV with darker windows. Donnelley watched it, hard-eyed, before he saw who got out. His face changed instantly at Justin, “Staff Sarn’t!”

Justin emerged from the back driver side with a slight scowl on his face, but he couldn’t help but crack a grin as he was recognized. He was wearing his usual, a pair of worn out Wrangler jeans, some ATACs boots, an unmarked red t-shirt, and a blue and white mesh Tractor Supply Co. baseball cap. Over one shoulder he had a duffel bag, and a backpack over the other.

Trodding on up towards the porch, he called out half-jokingly. “So who’s fuckin’ idea was this, eh?” He grinned.

“Weirdest shit. Some guy just started murdering people and the Sheriff is on vacation forever,” Donnelley put his hands up and shrugged, adding sardonically, “Who’d have thought.”

“Hope your break was good enough, because we’re about to ruin it.” Donnelley frowned.

“Justin,” Laine smiled and waved at him, dressed all in black like he would remember. “Good to have you here. And yeah, what he said. I just debriefed the team over what we have going on.”

“Fun, fun. Break wasn’t amazin’. Battalion XO’s an asshole, my Captain’s too reserved to say anythin’ but too stone-fuckin’-cold to take the XO’s bullshit. Plus my LT’s a brown-noser. Not that that means much to you guys.” He rattled off.

“Right, so we’re catchin’ a killer then?” He raised a brow, only now did Donnelley and Laine’s words actually sink in.

“Damn right we are.” Donnelley sighed, not seeming too convinced of that, “We got roadblocks everywhere with this shit. Nobody here wants us to work this case.”

Laine added, “It’s probably one of the worst murders I’ve seen and I’ve seen many. Our best witness is scared shitless of what could happen to him because he’s not a local. You know, small town superstitions.”

“You tried showin’ ‘em Doc Laine’s badge?” Justin chuckled.

“Shoo’, ‘bout the same reaction if I showed ‘em my ass. I already managed to get a business card thrown at me.” Donnelley shrugged, a small smirk, “A record.”

He shook his head, his accent coming back at the appearance of Justin’s own, “Still. Y’aint gonna believe it ‘til we get you out there and talk to one of these pricks. We found a body, what kicked this off. [i]Skinned.[/i]” Donnelley frowned and his face darkened as he crossed his arms, “Laine could give you a rundown. I’m thinking we’re gonna need a goddamn lot of whiskey after this is over.”

“Scale of one to meth-cookin’ and cousin-fuckin’, how hick is this place anyways?” Justin inquired, scratching at his stubble.

“Damn near Hills Have Eyes, brother.” Donnelley shook his head. “Ain’t that what he said?”

“Ears,” Laine added absently, “It’s what Wilkes said, ‘the hills have ears’.” 

She looked at Justin standing there with his bag then waved him forward, “I can give you the gruesome details, but come inside and get settled. I’ll make sandwiches...if the dishes are done.”

“Fuckin’...” Donnelley grumbled as he turned around to walk inside, remembering he’d been soaking them in the sink.

Laine raised a brow at Donnelley then moved to open the door for the men. “Oh and warn him about Gwen.”

“[i]Oh, fuckin’[/i]...” Donnelley sighed harder that time.

“Who?” Justin muttered as he walked inside.

Tom rose when he saw the others walk inside. He recognized Mr. Clark immediately. “Hey Justin!” Tom Stewart exclaimed with a smile. “How the hell are you, Ranger!?”

Justin beamed with a grin. “Doin’ great, Marine! How’s it been?” He replied, sweeping his hat from off his head as he was clear through the door. Old habits.

“I’m doing well, army doggie. Anything you need, let me know.” Tom was happy to see Justin. “Oh yea, when this is over, I have a parachute upstairs that needs packing. Maybe you can lend a hand?”

Justin mouthed. ‘Parachute?’ He paused. “Wait, did-” He was baffled. “Static line?”

“Yes Staff Sergeant. From a V-22 Osprey about 2330 last night.”

“Christ.” Justin muttered, grinning widely. Definitely a Marine thing to do, he thought.

“Come in from an FTX or somethin’?” He followed up.

“My battalion is conducting their annual training near Charleston, WV right now. My battalion commander allowed me to slip away for this [i]soire[/i]. Since I work in Operations, it was pretty easy to coordinate a jump with this aviation unit supporting our operations.” Tom conveyed what he was up to, then remembered their newest member. “Oh yea, we picked up a new member of the team.” Tom turned to Gwen, “this is senior airman Weissman. She is a UAV operator, among other things. Gwen, this is Staff Sergeant Justin Clark, an Airborne Ranger from Ft. Benning.”

Gwen went to extend her Laine bane claws towards Justin. “Hi Staff Sergeant, Gwen Weissman glad to be apart of the team.” She said smiling at him. There was a Texan twang to her speech

Justin extended his own hand, shaking hers. “‘S uh, just Justin.” He clarified. “Glad to have ya’ here.” Justin’s accent was twangy as well, but in a different way. He had that cadence and sing-song tone which could make you mistake him for a local. He was Appalachian through and through.

“Alright, sweet.” She said shaking his hand with a smile. She goes to crack her knuckles. “We’re going on a hunt soon for some sunbitch, glad we have more guys around here.” She said as she rubbed her dip-absence jaw. “Just wished everyone was as friendly as you though.” Thinking back to the Laine incident.

“Do not start.” Donnelley called over the sound of the sink and clinking dishes he was busying himself with begrudgingly. Couldn’t let Laine do it. It was a household thing when he was married that whoever cooked didn’t have to clean the dishes and they stuck to that better than their failed attempts at trying church. Donnelley just wasn’t into that. “Figure we’ll catch us some downtime for now. Tom, best pack your things soon, that goes for Laurie and Gwen too. We’ll be doing that thing. Justin- fuck...” Donnelley scrubbed hard at a piece of egg that had dried itself like a rock to the plate it was on, “Uh, Justin. You’re with me and Laine, going to see Roy in Charleston about this Dulane Dickhead.”

“Got it, I’ll toss my shit in a room, already got my go-bag ready.” Justin nodded, going to do just that unless someone else stopped him.

Gwen shrugged innocently at the old man, went to go follow the dinosaurs orders. Taking her bag she left out in the corner before they left earlier, she headed into woman’s bedroom to go start her packing and changing. The operation was coming. 
Tom went upstairs with Justin to pack for their operation. While Justin was doing his thing, Tom changed his clothing and packed. He removed his suit and pulled out the olive drab green tactical trousers with oversized cargo pockets, black Marine T-shirt and the low cut boots he’d been wearing all day. He realized he still had his Assault vest from his Marine Reserve unit in the closet. He loaded the magazine pouches with six of the eight magazines, one would go in his M4 and the eighth in a cargo pocket. He opted for the tactical thigh holster for his .40 caliber handgun. His assault vest had a pistol magazine holder as well a bit higher up. He attached his high cut ballistic tactical helmet to the back of his vest and would use it once they were in the field. He planned to use his throat mic in order to have communications with the rest of the team. Hand cuffs and flex cuffs might be a good addition in case they actually made an arrest; his FBI identification and badge as well. His compass was attached to his assault vest. A few chemlites for signaling or marking if necessary. He would definitely bring his M4 on this one. In the butt pack of his assault vest were three broken down MREs, at least they would have some food. He also placed another five Cuban cigars in one of his cargo pockets. He made a mental note to equip a pair of Night Observation Devices (NODs) to wear when it got dark and to pack his grey wind breaker in the butt pack for the overnight. He would later find a Laser listening device or Spectra Laser Microphone to aid in listening for sounds at a distance. Once he was packed up, which was all the equipment he was wearing he returned to the first floor ready to continue with the operation.
Laine opened a cupboard, taking out a loaf of whole grain bread and glanced over her shoulder as the conversation died off and they went to pack. “Should I pack them lunches? You know, juice and raisins, I’ll cut the crusts off Gwen’s sandwich.” 

She snickered and then shook her head, holding her hand up as she looked at Donnelley at the sink, “Sorry, I’ll stop. I’m being petty.” 

Peanut butter and jelly made good trail food, she made a half dozen and wrapped them tightly in wax paper then into brown bags, along with some dried fruit and trail mix, goldfish crackers and chocolate protein bars. “It’s not Tom’s MREs but it should do for today. How long will they be up there?”

“Their first outing I’ll just put them out there for two nights, see what that gets us and if they can locate those old mines. The drone’s got a range of six or so miles, so they shouldn’t have to move hides too often to find one of them.” Donnelley said, smacking down the handle on the sink to turn it off and using a handtowel to dry himself. “She’s no Combat Controller, but she can handle a Predator? She can handle our drone.”

“Right, so probably...more sandwiches? I’m sorry I’ve only been on day hiking trips,” she said, shrugging, “My mom was into glamping before it was a thing. As long as Airman Wiseass does her job, I’ll be fine. Weissman, I mean.” 

She gave Donnelley a small smirking smile as she put some apples and oranges into the large insulated tote along with the brown bag lunches that had a grinning face, a mascot of the chain grocery store printed on it on the bright blue material. “Yeah, this isn’t camo but it’ll keep things fairly fresh. I should put some jerky in there, too.” 

Gwen exited the woman’s bedroom wearing her airforce equipment, in tow was her weapons and electronics. She looked like a badass POG operator “Did someone say, food?” She muses entering the room with all her shit and emotional baggage to boot. Her stomach rumbled on command as well.

Laine glanced over her shoulder and nodded, “Packing lunches for the campers. I can make an extra if you’re hungry now?” 

She took out some bread, trying to make a conciliatory gesture after her comments. 

“I’ll take like three.” She said holding up three fingers for effect.

“Three? Well...alright,” Laine said, tilting her head in amazement at the tall thin young woman. “Peanut butter ok? I forgot about allergies and gluten. I’m a terrible southern Californian.”

“Yea lay it on thick.” She said thinking about the many uses of having 3 extra sammies.

Finishing off the loaf, she passed a plate with the sandwiches to her, “There’s milk in the fridge, two percent. I’ll have to hit the store again, that bread was supposed to last a couple of days. I’m not used to buying for more than one. And Weissman...sorry about earlier.” 

“It’s whatever doc, that ranger was more into you than me anyway.” She said blowing out hot steam.

Laine closed her eyes, her jaw twitching as she clenched her teeth. “Well, I need to go take this holster off.” 

Food. Food was being made, and that was enough to rouse Laurie from his napping on the couch. He shook his head side to side, standing up to stretch. He had forgotten to bring those monsters to double fist, and so he spent msot of this day sleeping. Perhaps for the better, you can't replace sleep with caffeine forever and it seems he'd have a long watch with the soldier boy and the Jew-... pardon, [i]new[/i] girl in the woods. Well, finally something he was used to being what he got a paycheck for. He walked over to the two women, smacking his lips after a yawn. "Evening or whatever the fuck it is. I smell shit to eat, any extras?"