"Do all the women in your life tell you what to do like that?" Montenet asked when they were on the sidewalk again.
"Only the ones that are older than me," John said regretful then laughed. "And one that's about twenty years younger."
The detective smiled in response then turned his focus on their investigation. "The caller said they'd seen a blue ATV down near the pier where Ressler worked at about the right time on the night he was killed," he said as they rounded the corner. "That matches with the vague description Seltzer's neighbor gave of a dark jeep."
"Not much to go on. Could be coincidence."
"Better lucky than good."
John glanced down at the printout George had given them. There were fourteen dark ATV's registered to residents in the section of the city that the VCTF had identified as the killer's probable home territory. Finding the killer this way was a huge long shot. It was possible that the vehicle wasn't even related to the case at all.
The first several stops got them nowhere. They flashed their badges, asked a few questions, and moved on. By the sixth house John was ready to start pounding his head against the dashboard.
"There is no way this is going to get us anywhere," Montenet said, voicing John's opinion aloud. "Can't your profiler come up with anything better?"
Yeah, John thought, she came up with me. First George, then Sam. He had hoped that he had earned a little more respect from his teammates. Obviously they thought about as much of his intelligence as ... well, as most of his high school teachers probably had.
"Next stop. Everybody out," Montenet said.
They had pulled up to the curb in front of another of the Quarter's many older apartment buildings. John slammed the car door with more effort than was strictly necessary. There were no ATVs parked on the street, but that didn't mean it wasn't in a nearby lot or garage. They climbed the stairs to the second-floor apartment. Montenet knocked.
A man in his late twenties, with pale blond hair answered the door.
Duck fluff, John thought irrelevantly. Or maybe a baby chicken. This door to door interviewing was starting to get to him.
"I'm Detective Montenet, New Orleans P.D. and this is Agent Grant with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions. Are you Eric Leyton?"
The man shook his head. "I'm his roommate. Is there a problem?"
"Just some routine questions," the detective said. "Do you know when he'll be back?"
The man shook his head again. "'Fraid not. He's on call at the hospital. He works a lot of weird hours."
John straightened at the man's words. "Do you mind if we come in and ask you a couple of questions, then?" he asked. "Just a couple basic things that you might be able to clear up for us."
Montenet gave him a sharp look. There was no justification for them going inside. John ignored the questioning glance. Bailey would probably pitch a fit about his procedure, too, but he wanted a look at the apartment. If the guy would just invite them in�
The roommate looked at them hesitantly for a moment then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know that I'll be much help, but I'll try."
"Thanks."
Once inside Montenet began to run through the usual questions. The man's name was Pete Lindsay. His roommate, Eric, did own a dark blue ATV. Neither man had left the New Orleans metro area in the past two weeks. Eric was a first-year intern at the Orleans Parish Community Hospital. Pete did think that Eric's job had been fairly stressful lately. He'd been trying a couple of new hobbies to help him relax.
John unobtrusively tried to inspect the apartment. It was clean and well organized. Even the magazines on the coffee table were current. Nothing seemed out of place. The apartment was disgustingly neat. Disappointed and annoyed, he wandered over to the screen door to scowl at the plants on the balcony. He frowned at the Zen rock garden in the corner irritably as he waited for Montenet to finish with Pete.
Then his heart skipped two beats.
Neatly placed in the sand were three small, white stones. White stones with carved hatch marks. Warrior, sacrifice, gateway.
"Whose rock garden?" he asked, hoping his voice wouldn't betray the importance of the question.
"It's Eric's. It's one of those new hobbies of his."
"Did you say he's at the hospital right now?"
"Well, actually I'm not sure."
John stared at Pete intently. It was a glare he'd practiced for intimidation and it seemed to be working. Even Montenet looked a little worried.
"What do you mean, you aren't sure? Where is he?"
"He's not in trouble, is�?"
"He might be. And you might be joining him. Where is he?" He noticed that Montenet had risen. Whether to support John or protect Pete, John wasn't sure. Right now he didn't care. He could always explain later.
"He� I think, maybe� His parents� He said he was going to stop by his parents' house before he went to work tonight. He might still be there. They live in the Garden District, just off St. Charles, I think."
"Where exactly?"
Pete blinked at him. John's abruptly demanding questions had obviously jarred him.
"Pete, can you get us an address?" Montenet asked quietly. "Can you give us their name?"
The pale blond head nodded. Pete stood and headed for the desk. He immediately located an address book and handed it to Montenet.
"Leyton. There." Pete pointed at the open page.
"We can be there in ten minutes," Montenet told John.
"John's got a lead," George said as he hung up the phone. "He and Montenet are on their way to this address." He handed Bailey the piece of paper that he had scrawled the street number on. "He says that back-up would be nice."
"John's asking for back-up?" Bailey asked in disbelief.
George shrugged. "Well, the whole quote was 'nice but not necessary'. I figured they'd need it anyway."
"Back-up will be here in just a few minutes," Montenet said.
"And meanwhile, we're here now. Come on." He didn't give the detective time to protest as he headed for the house. Given no other choice, Montenet followed. No one answered the bell.
"Do you smell gasoline?" Montenet asked suddenly.
John nodded. "I'm going around."
"Wait!" The detective reached out to stop him. "Listen!"
Sounds of muffled shouting could be heard within the house. The two men stared at each other as a gunshot echoed inside. In an instant Montenet began kicking at the front door as John sprinted for the back of the house. John reached the backyard as the patio door was thrown open. The dark-haired man at the door caught a glimpse of John and slammed the door closed again. John instinctively dropped to the ground a moment before bullets shattered the nearest window.
Doubting that Leyton had enough time to lock the door again John made his way slowly toward the house. From the relative protection of the solid wall between the window and door he pushed the door open. No gunfire greeted the gesture so he risked a low glance into the house. The kitchen was empty. He couldn't hear Montenet at the front door any more. If the detective had made it into the house, John reasoned, he would need support. John carefully entered the kitchen and began to search for Leyton. He followed the smell of gasoline.
It led him to the living room. An older couple was bound to straight-backed wooden chairs in the center of the room. Both appeared terrified but otherwise unharmed. The initial gunshot seemed to have been a warning, or perhaps a point in the argument. Leyton stood on the far side of the couple. One hand held a gun aimed at the man. The other hand held a lighter.
"FBI," John said evenly. "Put the gun down."
"Not a chance," Leyton answered. "They started this. They have to finish it. It's all their fault."
"They didn't start anything."
"Yes, they did. They did," Leyton insisted. "If they hadn't wanted me to be a doctor, none of this would have happened."
That's it? John wondered. He doesn't like his job and he's blaming his parents? He knew that Sam would probably see it as a complete lack of sensitivity on his part, but frankly he just didn't see how anybody could let something like that push them over the edge. There was a great deal of satisfaction to be had in disappointing parental aspirations. On the other hand, he admitted, it was possible that not everyone was as determined to exasperate their families as he was.
"Put the gun down, Eric. We can talk about it." He winced inwardly as he said the words. Leyton had already killed four people. The last thing John really wanted to do was talk to the lunatic about it. To his surprise, however, Leyton bent slowly toward the floor. They both noticed the flicker of movement in the doorway at the same time.
Montenet ducked as Leyton swung the gun at him and began firing. John tried to aim at Leyton but the hostage couple was between them. He suddenly realized why Leyton had seemed willing to comply; the man had bent to light the fuel-soaked carpet. In the momentary confusion caused by the flash of flame Leyton ran for the door at the end of the room. Both John and Montenet moved to pursue. At the doorway they exchanged a quick, wordless look. Montenet turned back to the trapped couple. John continued after Leyton.
Leyton crashed through the back door and into the yard. John skidded to a halt just inside the doorway. The house was surrounded by police and federal agents. Leyton was well into yard when he realized that he had nowhere left to run. The man stopped and turned slowly. John could see the stunned expression on his face. There was something almost pathetic in his eyes as he looked at John like a lost child. John's instincts told him, an instant too late, to dive.
Leyton stared blindly as he raised his gun and fired. John felt the hot sting as the bullet hit his shoulder. He knew from past experience that he had merely been grazed. His only thought as Leyton crumpled in the grass was that Sam was going to kill him for getting shot again. He stood numbly as the police and paramedics moved toward Leyton. His shoulder burned but no one was moving toward him yet. The fire roared behind him and remembered Montenet.
He was vaguely aware of sirens as he headed back into the house. He would bet that Sam had been the one to call in the fire department before anyone else had even realized that they would need it. Smoke was thick. The gasoline had hastened the blaze and it was wildly out of control already. John grabbed towels on his way through the kitchen. There wasn't time to wet them, but at this point anything would help.
Montenet had managed to untie Leyton's parents. John met them at the doorway of the living room as the abandoned gasoline can exploded. The hallway was on fire but John knew that it would be easier than going back through the living room. He caught Mrs. Leyton as she stumbled. She resisted him for a moment then collapsed. He picked her up as her husband led them toward the kitchen and outside.
John gladly passed Mrs. Leyton to a paramedic and sank to the grass himself. He didn't protest as another EMT peeled his jacket off of him and began inspecting the gash in his shoulder. The evening had taken on a surreal quality with the bonfire of a house behind him, the red and blue spinning lights around them, and the swirling masses of official personnel swarming across the yard. He was startled when Sam suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Back-up," she said. "Did you ever hear of back-up?"
"We were here," he replied. "We had to."
"You could have been killed."
He tried to shrug but the paramedic wouldn't let go of his arm. "I wasn't."
"Why do you have to do everything the hard way? Why don't you ever listen? Why do you have to do everything yourself?"
He stared at her. He wasn't sure if he was in shock or if she really was yelling at him. Before he could decide she had whirled and stormed away. Bailey took her place.
"Do you have to do this every time we go somewhere?" Bailey asked. There was humor in his voice but concern in his eyes.
John gave him a wry smile.
Lexi looked up to see Sam Waters opening the door of her shop.
"Hey, Doc. What can I do for you?"
"Have you seen John tonight?" the woman asked. "Has he been here?"
"Is everything okay?" Lexi knew that Sam was protective of Johnny, but this looked like more than typical concern.
Sam shook her head. "We solved our case tonight, but�" She sighed. "I said some things to John earlier that I think he misunderstood. Then tonight I said some more things that� I don't know exactly what I said� And now I don't know where he is� I just�"
"Can I ask you a personal question?"
Sam blinked at her. "A personal�? Okay."
"Why are you so worried about him?"
"I didn't mean some things the way they sounded. I don't want him to be angry�"
"I'm sure he understands, Sam. He's a pretty sharp puppy."
"He's not a puppy," Sam snapped.
Lexi gave her a level stare. Sam's eyes widened suddenly.
"He said that," Sam whispered. "He thinks that's how I see him. He� he's not a puppy," she said again. "Why would he think that?"
"You know him, Doc. You know that despite all that macho crap he pulls he has the self-confidence of a third-grader. He expects everyone else to expect the worst from him. Unless you spell it out to him that you think otherwise that's what he's going to believe."
Sam closed her eyes briefly and sighed. "Where would he go?" she asked when she lifted her head.
"Try the fountain in Jackson Square," Lexi suggested quietly.
Sam gave her a small, grateful smile.
A lone figure sat on the low fountain wall, staring up at the St. Louis Cathedral. He didn't move as Sam sat down beside him.
"I had to track you across half the city..."
"Six blocks," he said without looking at her. "You going to yell at me some more?"
"No. I wanted to explain." She glanced down at her hands and forced herself to stop wringing them. "And I wanted to start with this morning. I said some things at the briefing that I think you might have taken the wrong way... I didn't mean them the way they sounded."
He didn't respond. She sighed and pressed on.
"I depend on you," she said softly. "You're the most honest, straight-forward person I know. You're never afraid to tell me when you think my theories are completely wrong. You're never afraid to challenge anybody when you think they're wrong. I don't know anyone more determined to do the right thing than you."
"I don't think like Leyton," he said finally.
"No. I know. You're good at reading people, though. And I trust your instincts. I should tell you that more often, I suppose."
"That would be nice," he agreed.
Sam gave him a sideways look, but he was still staring at the Cathedral.
"So, this morning� I'm sorry if I sounded� I didn't mean to offend you. When I think out loud things don't always come out the way I intend them to. John, I'm sorry."
He shrugged. "So, what was the deal at the Leyton's? Was that thinking out loud, too?"
"No," she said. "That was panic. Do you have any idea how much it scares me when you do things like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like what?" she repeated in surprise. "Like not wait for back-up. Like walking into burning buildings, even for good reasons. Like getting shot."
"I can take care of myself."
She sighed, realizing that she had put him on the defensive again. "I know. Intellectually, I know that you know what you're doing. I know you're a good agent, but then�" She smiled weakly at him. "You still scare the living daylights out of me sometimes and I don't know what to do. I don't mean to worry about you. It just sort of happens. It's not a reflection of my faith in your abilities," she said quickly. "It's� You walk into danger and I worry. That's just how it goes. You do that just to aggravate me, don't you?"
She saw the corners of his mouth twitch.
"Not always," he said.
"Often enough." She watched his profile in the fading light. "Why do you make me worry so much about you?" she asked quietly.
"I like the attention?"
"You already have that," she said.
He finally turned to look at her. "I do?"
Sam nodded slowly. "Bailey has booked us on the red-eye out," she said, changing tracks. "There's a restaurant near the hotel that I've been wanting to try. I think we'd have time before we need to be at the airport."
"Are you asking me out, Dr. Waters?" She could hear the quiet laughter edging back into his voice.
Instead of answering she held out her hand. After a moment he reached out with his good arm and wrapped his fingers around hers.
"Take care of yourself, Johnny," Lexi said as she hugged him. "Don't vanish for another fifteen years."
"I'll try."
"Look after him, Doc," she said to Sam. "He needs somebody to keep him out of trouble."
"Tell me about it," Sam laughed. "It's practically a full-time job."
"Hey! I'm not that bad."
"How many times have you been shot since I've known you?"
"Altogether? And are we counting grazings?"
"Do I even dare ask about before I met you?"
"You really don't want to know. They're attracted to my magnetic personality."
"You can't magnetize lead, John."
John laughed as he held the door open for Sam and they walked out into the warm Louisiana night.
Lexi watched them leave her store a little wistfully. As the door closed behind them she set a small bag on the counter. She closed her eyes for a moment then pulled three stones from the bag.
Separation, opposition, blocked growth.
She frowned at the runes. Othila was to be expected. That rune would always be attached to John. He would learn, someday, to accept it and build on it. The remaining two stones, conflict and failure, were not encouraging. But failure wasn't always a bad thing, she told herself. He would grow; he would learn; and he would be stronger.
She swept the stones into the bag. After a moment of concentration she drew three more.
Partnership, breakthrough, joy.
She smiled. Yes, she thought, Sam would be good for him. Sam and a kid with ladybug barrettes.
Author note: No, I am not from New Orleans. Just an avid tourist. Thank you to the NO natives who were impressed enough with my portrayal of their town to ask though. Y'all made my day.