The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once (15 page)

“I was hoping
I’d see you again today.”
 
Jillian
reveals.
 
“Every doll I strung up I
was secretly hoping to get caught, I mean I couldn’t make it look like I was
trying to get caught, I do have a reputation to defend.”
 
Jillian says earnestly causing Derek to
chuckle.
 

“I certainly
didn’t want it to end up like this, not like this.”
 
Jillian quietly and honestly continues.
 
Derek gives her a nod and a warm,
serious smile, a smile that says he was thinking the same thing.
 

Derek hands
the clothes to Jillian. “The ladies room is down the hall, to the left.
 
Would you like some coffee or tea?”

“Tea would be
great, thanks,”
Jillian
answers before heading to the
ladies room.
 

As Derek
leaves the room to get the drinks Knox enters the station.
 
He looks around.
 
He looks at Derek's desk.
 
No one is there.
 
Knox approaches the cop at the
reception desk.

“Hey, where's
the bitch?
 
Locked up?”
 
Knox asks the cop.

“Nope.”

“Why the fuck
isn't she locked up?”

They found the
body of the congressman and her story's checking out so far.
 
The CSI team is processing the evidence
they collected.

“What
evidence?”

“Her shirt,
they found a bullet in a pylon, and they're running tests on prints from the
museum.”

“So she saw
someone kill the congressman?”

“That's what
she says.”

“Does she know
who it was?”

“Nope.”

Derek returns
to his desk carrying two cups.
 
He
puts the cups down when he sees Knox.
 
Derek storms over to Knox. “You’re officially off duty, what the hell
are you doing here?” Derek demands to know, not happy at all to see Knox.

Jillian exits
the ladies room dressed in the BPD sweats.
 
When she reaches Derek’s desk she sees Derek and Knox.
 
Knox turns and sees Jillian.
 
Derek notices how scared of Knox she
looks.

Knox moves
towards Jillian. “I, ah, I wanted to apologize for being rough earlier,” Knox
says to her, not really meaning it.

“Fine.
 
You said your peace not get out of
here,” Derek responds protectively.
 
He stands between Knox and Jillian furthering his intentions to guard
and protect her.

“I
ain't
fucking talking to you, Winton.
 
I'm apologizing to the girl,
”
 
Knox
says it
as if he were saying bitch instead of girl.

“I'm not going
to file a complaint if that's what you're worried about,” Jillian answers.

“I
ain't
fucking worried about nothing, I just wanted to
apologize, okay?” Knox snarls.

“Okay. Now keep
away from her and this case,” Derek warns Knox.

Knox, glaring
at Derek, mumbles under his breath, “fucking prick.”
 
He storms out of the police department.

Knox paces
outside of the station.
 
He takes
out his cell-phone and makes a call. “They're buying her story, but she is not
able to identify you.”
 
He says
into his phone - telling Bosovich.
 
“They found a bullet in a pylon and are testing for fingerprints from
the museum.”
 

Inside a port
warehouse…

Cargo boxes
are stacked waiting to be shipped.
 
Bosovich and his men are in the warehouse.

Bosovich
addresses his gang of men. “We've got a witness.
 
She doesn't know who I am so let's keep it that way. I want
her dead before she gets the opportunity to identify me.”

Bosovich
motions to the gunman who shot at Jillian to join him.
 
The gunman does.
 
Bosovich puts his arm around the
man.
 
“You know, they found a
bullet at the scene.”

The man,
acting rather cocky, replies. “So, they can't trace it to me or you.”

“Did you touch
anything in the museum?” Bosovich asks.

The gunman
doesn’t answer.
 
His cocky demeanor
has quickly faded.

“You know I
don't tolerate incompetence.”
 
Bosovich snarls.
 

Before the
gunman can answer, Bosovich pulls out a Russian Army knife, flips it open and
shoves the knife into the man's gut, slicing upwards.
 
The man falls to the ground in agony.

Bosovich
regales the dying man.
 
“I slit
your spleen so that way you'll have a good five to ten excruciating minutes
before you die to contemplate your sloppy mistakes.”
 

Later in the
evening, inside the police station, Jillian sleeps on a couch not too far from
Derek’s desk.
 
His jacket is over
her like a blanket.
 
Derek,
seated at his desk, types on his computer.
 
He looks tired.

His phone
rings.
 
He answers.
 
“Detective Winton.”
 
He listens.
 
“I'll be right down.”
 
Derek gets up from his desk and heads downstairs.

Derek enters
the autopsy room.
 
The
congressman's dead body lies on the examining table.
 
Derek joins the coroner.
 
“What do you got?”

“Official
cause of death is drowning.
 
But he
was filled with enough pills and alcohol that that would have killed him if he
hadn't drowned.”
 
The coroner shares.

“They were
trying to make it look like a suicide.”
 
Derek injects.

“And the death
would have been classified as a suicide if we didn't check the throat and back
of his head based on the girl's story.”

“What did you
find?”

“There was
significant tearing inside the esophagus that does indicate he was forced to
take the pills and alcohol.”
 
The
coroner turns the congressman's dead head for Derek to see.
 
“Here on the back of the head and neck,
there are five minor bruising spots that would occur if someone was forcibly
holding his head under water.”

“Thanks, Mac,”
Derek says to the coroner as he heads out of autopsy.

Captain Harris
sits at his desk.
 
Derek knocks on
the door.
 
Captain Harris motions
for him to enter.
 
He does.
 
“You wanted to see me?
 
Derek asks the captain.

How's the
girl?
 
Captain Harris asks.

“Pretty
frightened.”

“The feds are
taking over,” the captain informs Derek.

“What
?!?”
Derek is not pleased with this information.

“They'll be
arriving within the hour to take the girl and put her in protective custody.”

“This is my
case, my witness,” Derek defends.

“No
longer.
 
The congressman was under
investigation for a number of illegal activities.
 
The feds have jurisdiction.”

Derek, pissed,
leaves the captain's office.
 
He
approaches the couch where Jillian is asleep.
 
He takes a seat at the edge of the couch.
 
He gently, tenderly, shakes Jillian's
shoulder.
 
She wakes up.

At first she
looks confused as if she'd forgotten where she was. But then when she sees
Derek, she smiles, reassured that she's okay.
 
“Hey.”
 
She says
groggily.

“Morning,” he
smiles.

“What time is
it?” Jillian asks as she takes Derek’s wrist in her hand and looks at his
watch.
 
It’s 6:00am.
 
“Any word?”

“The autopsy
of the congressman confirms your story.
 
And the feds are taking over,
”
 
Derek
shares.

“What does
that mean?”

“They're
coming to pick you up. To put you in protective custody.”

“Can't I stay
in your protective custody?”

“I'm
sorry.
 
I wish it were different,
but I have to follow orders.”

Neither of
them is happy with the developments.
 
Derek notices that Jillian is still holding his wrist.
 
He pulls his hand away and looks at his
watch as if struck with an idea.
 
“I'll be right back.”

Derek hurries
into the surveillance room and approaches the cop on duty.

“I need a
miniature tracking device and a hand-held tracker unit.”
 
Derek commands.

The cop hands
a piece of paper to Derek.
 
“Please
fill this request form out, detective.”

Derek hands
two one hundred dollar bills to the cop.
 
The cop takes the money and hands the items to Derek.
 

“Thank you,” Derek
says to the cop before warning him, “don't tell anyone,
anyone
, that
I've taken this equipment.”

“Not a peep,
detective,” the cop winks.

Derek inserts
the
miniature tracking
device inside of his
watch.
 
He then turns on the
hand-held tracking unit to make sure it works.

Derek returns
to
Jillian
.
 
He takes a seat next to her on the couch.
 
He hands Jillian his wristwatch.
 
“Here, I want you to wear this.
 
I placed a tracking device inside the watch so I will know
where you are at all times.”

Jillian
studies the watch and notices that there is an inscription on the back of it
that reads:
You Make Me Proud

“My dad gave
it to me when I first got a job as a cop,” Derek shares with Jillian.

“What a
treasured keepsake,” Jillian remarks with respect as she places the watch on
her wrist and adjusts it to fit.

“Don't tell
anyone that I'm tracking you,” Derek warns.

“I won't. I’ll
keep your watch safe.”

Two feds enter
the station and approach the cop at the reception desk.

“We're looking
for Jillian March.” One of the feds says.

Derek sees the
feds.
 
“They’re here for you.”
 
Derek and Jillian stand up and approach
the reception area.

“Jillian
March?”
 
A fed inquires.

“That's me,” she
manages a polite smile.

“We're here to
take you into protective custody.”

Jillian turns
to Derek and extends her hand to him, the one with his watch on it.
 
He takes her hand and they shake, she
squeezes his hand, holding it longer than cordial.
 
The electricity between them could light a city.

“Thank you,
detective.
 
Very much,” she says
her words laced with much more meaning than just politeness.

“It's been a
pleasure,” he smiles tenderly offering the same sentiment as Jillian shared
when she said the same thing to him last year.
 
She nods as if understanding his intention.

*****

Jillian leaves
with the two feds.
 
Derek watches
her go.
 
She is escorted to the
feds’ car.
 
Knox, who is out of
sight loitering in the parking lot, watches.

The feds and
Jillian get in the car and drive away from the station.
 
Knox gets in his personal car and
follows the feds.

The feds car
drives through the city.
 
Following
a fair distance behind is Knox's car.

Inside the
feds car Jillian sits in the backseat.
 
She fondles the wristwatch.

Back at the
police station Derek, seated at his desk, holds the tracker unit, watching the
bleep, which represents Jillian.

The feds car
continues to drive along.
 
Knox's
car still follows.

Inside Knox’s
car, Knox makes a call on his cell-phone and leaves a voicemail message for
Bosovich.
 
“She's with the
feds.
 
I'm following them now.
 
I’ll let you know as soon as I have
their location.”