The Journal of Sanctuary One #6 by RJ Scott
Chapter 1
Heading north on I-87 gave Jake one hell of a long time to think. His mind went from cases, to allocating resources, to family and Sanctuary. The landscape outside the car, a blur of green and then concrete-gray, passed mile by mile and in his head he ticked off everything he needed to get out to think on. Maria would be good in Ops, she should move there. Manny and Josh needed to work up the next stage of the Bullen case, Joseph had left a message with Ops for Dale that he was coming home, and hell, Beckett had to have training if he wanted to think about working with Kayden.
"Earth to Jake."
Think of the devil and he appears. Kayden's cheerful voice was in his ear and interrupting his peace.
"Hey," Jake offered. Indicating, he pulled out to pass a slow-moving logging truck, and then concentrated on settling back in his lane.
"Good news or bad news, bro?" Kayden said. Jake could feel his heart sink. He had seen the weather forecasts before he left; he knew what the bad news would be.
"Hit me all at once," Jake sighed.
"We're frozen in up here." Kayden and Beckett were in New York, and the ice storm that preceded a predicted ten inch dump of snow was likely to cause chaos even in a city that was used to the white stuff. "I'm not seeing us getting out of here any time soon."
"It's not a problem," Jake said. It wasn't the first time the winter weather had delayed a visit to the cabin and it wouldn't be the last. "I don't want you driving even if they did get your roads open and clear."
"Storm front is chasing your ass up north, Jake. You may wanna think about pulling off soon and finding the next Motel 6. Get yourself some luxury."
Jake snorted at the mention of the infamous Motel 6. No way in hell was he going to be stopping off at one of those, not after the incident a few years back with the cockroach. Anyway there was no need to pull off. He didn't need a sat nav to know exactly where he was. "I'm only ten miles to the turnoff."
"Hell, you made it up the mountain already?" Kayden sounded surprised, but the journey so far had been smooth. One stop for coffee and indulging his weakness for chocolate and he had made good time.
"I’m assuming you're not making it up for tomorrow then?"
"Sorry, Jake. All packed but there is no way we're getting out today or tomorrow. We'll try on the twenty-third."
"Don't worry about it, K, there'll be a logjam on the roads out of the city. Stay where you are and have Christmas in New York with Beckett." He looked in his rearview mirror and the ominous snow dumping cloud formation really was close. "Looks like the snow is herding me to the cabin." He laughed although he didn't really feel the humor.
He'd been snowed in at the cabin before. Many a family Christmas had been spent stuck in snowdrifts with no way down off the mountain. Just… this Christmas was only the third since his dad had died and selfishly he kind of wanted to have Kayden—and by extension, Beckett—with him. Having Kayden here would cement the memories he had of his mom and dad, Max and Emma, and he and his brother before everything ended so suddenly. His mom and dad dying in a plane crash in these mountains three years ago had stopped everything abruptly—as only death could.
"Good news though?" Kayden prompted gently. His soft words pierced through the memories of happier times.
"There's good news?"
"Manny came through on the Senator Bullen case, pulled out some more content from the encrypted files."
"What did he find?" Jake slowed on the main road off of I-87 and fishtailed slightly in a thin layer of snow and ice that had accumulated on the old road. The off-road SUV ate up the slippery and uneven road. Snow began to flake around him, light and soft and beautiful, each individual crystal wending its way down in a random fall blown by the soft wind. Of course it wouldn't stay this way, but when the snow started it was a mesmerizing thing.
"There are files talking about the FBI: watch lists, connections, all kinds of things." Kayden continued.
The Bullen case had ended for Sanctuary with the arrest of both Senator Bullen and his brother, Alastair. Well, officially it had ended. In fact Jake had given blanket approval to any and all outside work by his operatives on cracking the files or following up leads. He wasn't the only one who was dissatisfied with how the case had been left. Too many links to nebulous other parties involved. Not least the FBI and Sean Hanson.
Jesus. Every time he thought of what Sean had done, double-crossing the FBI and Sanctuary, working with the Bullen family, bitterness rose in him and threatened his temper. Fucking asshole had worked as an FBI/Sanctuary liaison and had been selling them both out. For what? Money? Manny hadn't found any kind of money trail for Sean and he had tried damned hard to get something. Anything.
"You're thinking about Sean aren't you?" Kayden commented with his uncanny perception as to what the hell was in Jake's head at any given point. Adopted brother he may be but Kayden still had a freaky connection to Jake's thoughts.
"No," Jake lied.
"Liar. Manny got a hit on him in Albany, but he didn't get any further than notice that Sean was accessing bank accounts. Oh, and he used the access to follow a money trail for Sean and it's not looking good. Regular deposits from two sources, one we can link to the Bullens directly."
Every tiny hope that Jake had about Sean being redeemable died at that moment. So Sean had been paid for information. Sean had also disappeared. On a hijacked prison transport he had been released and literally gone to ground to God knows where. Damn good at his job, he had even evaded the normally infallible Manny. Jake concentrated on the road for a second as it forked, and he took the left that led him higher into the mountain.
"Sean is still a person of interest," Jake confirmed. Like Kayden or Manny or anyone at Sanctuary would think otherwise. The bastard had made friends with everyone, come across as the consummate FBI guy with a smile that lit up the room and a brain that would not quit. He'd come into Jake's life and turned it upside down and then without a second thought betrayed every single one of them. Why did thinking that in black and white hurt so much?
"You going to be okay up there on your own?" Kayden said. He was evidently moving away from the Sean situation and focusing on Jake. Jake was more than happy with that.
"More food than I need, a generator with a month's fuel, books, the internet, the comms room for work, TV, a spa bath, and a steam shower? I'll manage."
Kayden groaned. The cabin may well be old but it was luxurious and relaxing. "Promise me one thing, Jake?"
Great. Kayden was using his 'I'm your brother and I love you and you worry me' voice.
"What?" Jake said. He knew exactly what Kayden was going to say and already Jake had his defenses up. Kayden was going to go on about not working, and sleeping, and eating right, and all the other shit that he threw at Jake when he was worried. Jake hated when Kayden got his doctor's hat on.
"Have at least an hour a day when you don't think about work?"
Jake was a little startled by the soft tone. He and Kayden were close but his brother was usually more telling than pleading. Clearly Beckett was having a softening effect on him.
"I will." Jake could promise that easily. After all he had to sleep. And not all of his dreams revolved around Sanctuary. Some of them, the ones he pretended he didn't have, were about Sean.
They ended the call and Jake guided his SUV up the last mile to the cabin past the tourist camping areas. Empty and dusted with snow, their normal muddy look softened by the white blanket to make them look halfway beautiful. He turned onto the private road and about a quarter mile up the track he slid to a stop. A tree lay across the road and he smiled at the memories. This particular tree had been threatening to topple over for years, in fact his dad had promised each year that he and Kayden would need to go out and cut it back. Smiling fondly at the downed trunk he resolved to get the power saw to cut it down and transport the wood up to the cabin. Of course that wouldn't happen just now as he needed to walk the remaining three-quarters of a mile to the cabin itself with the snow starting to become a little heavier.
Parking the 4x4 to one side of the road to leave room for Kayden if he managed to get up here, and with memories of his dad and Christmases past keeping him warm, he hoisted his backpack on to his back and heaved out his other bag. Neither were that heavy, some books, a Kindle, a laptop, and a few clothes. This cabin was a home away from home and held a complete closet of clothes suitable for rustic mountain Christmases. Walking the short distance in the crisp cold mountain air was like stepping into a cold shower. Every cell in Jake was alive and sparking to keep him warm and his breath puffed in small clouds as he exhaled.
Enough snow had fallen to make the ground crunchy underfoot but not enough to mask the road or the landmarks that Jake recalled from all his previous visits. The tall fir that Kayden had wanted as the Christmas tree when he first came to the family, but had then decided was going to be his tree and should be left to grow tall. The rocky outcrop covered in shrubs and snow where they used to sit and talk as boys. Where Jake learned about Kayden's life before he'd been repatriated from the compound his father had created. Where they talked about Kayden's father dying, of his hopes and his dreams, and where Jake realized that the younger man he grew to call brother was some kind of super-brain who could ace advanced calculus and biology without studying.
The last part of the journey was more level and finally Jake rounded the corner. He stopped walking for a second as the beauty of the scene stole his breath. The cabin was exactly as he remembered from his last visit in April. Low and spread out on one level, it was set back onto an acre of open land with a large expanse of pasture in the front. Surrounded by a fence it was covered in a thin layer of snow and looked stunning. With a grin at the thought of the peace awaiting him inside, he finished the walk and keyed in the entry code for access.
After stamping to remove the light covering of snow from his boots he closed the door behind him and shrugged off the backpack and his jacket. The heat was on and Jake sent a mental thank you to the O'Briens who owned the next cabin over, some three miles away. They had long ago been entrusted with Sanctuary secrets and kept an eye, when no one was here, on the cabin that used to be Sanctuary One. Of course the place wasn't used as a safe house now and it had long since stopped being a useful place to hide or protect anyone. The systems inside were all cutting edge; by definition it was upgraded as soon as every other cabin was. But the place wasn't far off one of the new extreme mountain trails and as such had been passed back to Jake's dad, and now to Jake and Kayden.
Jake turned immediately right from the mud room and down the corridor to dump his bags on the end of his bed. Stretching tall he attempted to unkink himself from driving and being cold. Then, with hot coffee warming him from inside he slid into the chair in front of the two computer screens in the small comms room. Once logged on he scanned his e-mail. Manny filtered his messages and only passed along to Jake those that were deemed important. There was an invitation to a fundraiser in March, perfectly suitable to the millionaire Callahan. He hated attending them but he made useful contacts so the evenings were never a complete loss. After adding the date to his calendar he glanced at the other two mails. One was a request for clearance on a new operative, and another contained a round robin joke that had been forwarded by Manny.
Connecting to Manny himself he smiled when he saw his right-hand man appear on the screen.
"You're on vacation," Manny admonished. He had a stern expression on his face but there was a smile in his eyes.
"Kayden said you have information for us?"
"Well, hello to you too," Manny said. He shook his head as he spoke.
"Hello, Manny, how are you, how is Josh, and what information do you have for me?"
Manny grinned widely. "Josh is fine, we're doing good."
The two had vanished to the Canadian safe house after the arrest of Senator Bullen. Too many people wanted to use Josh as a pawn to get his dad to recant testimony. Until the Bullens were both out of the story that was where they were staying. Jake missed Manny, missed his irrepressible humor; Manny really was the better part of him. The one who calmed him down, organized him, told him how things were.
"So anyway," Manny continued, "turns out there is a whole other level of connections we are missing here, including some kind of link to the FBI and the Bullens. There're only a few notes, some deleted files I am attempting to reconstruct, but let's face it, the Bullens did not only plant someone in Sanctuary, they were using the same person in the FBI."
"You can connect Sean to it all?" Jake felt his stomach twist. He had wanted to believe in Sean. Seemed there really was no doubt at all Sean Hanson was a traitor.
"No. Nothing explicit, but I'm working on it."
"Good." Jake considered adding the same warning Kayden had given him about taking an hour off to Manny but then thought better of it. Cut Manny in half and you would find Sanctuary written across the middle. He was as embroiled as Jake was. At least Manny had a life now. Although exiled away from the main Sanctuary he was with the guy who had stolen his heart and he had left of his own accord. One day they could come home, but not until Manny was sure Josh was safe. Like Morgan, Josh Headley would always be a target for a family they helped destroy.
"You had an email from Owen Reynolds but it went through to a generic address, I'm forwarding it now with attachments."
Owen? He hadn't heard from Owen since, hell, he couldn't remember when, March maybe? His dad's closest friend, former FBI, former special ops, and advisor when Max had first bandied the idea of Sanctuary, had been out of the country more times than in. Jake saw the e-mail arrive. The contents were a general Merry Christmas and an attached photo of Owen and his wife Martha and their dogs—three huge dopey Great Danes.
"I got it."
"There's nothing else for now. All is quiet apart from the normal placing."
"How many jobs do we have going over Christmas?"
"You don't need to—"
"Manny, just report as normal. Please." Jake added the please to soften the demand. Manny was only looking out for him but Jake wasn't interested in sleeping away the next week or so, he wanted to be strategizing and working on the things he normally had no time to do back in the office.
"We have seven active cases that look to be going over Christmas. One is a family with two small kids."
"Did you organize—"
"Yes, Santa is making a visit as usual." Manny grinned widely. Jake found himself smiling back as stupidly as Manny was. They tried to do this for small kids in protection if it was at all possible, a tradition started when they had their first case involving kids after Jake had just taken over Sanctuary
Manny continued. "The other six are single adults. And the freed-up operatives are Dale and Michaela so we can cover emergencies, though this snow is shutting everything down big-time. Dale is following on closing down some loose ends with the Bullen case with me."
Manny signed off with a final warning for Jake to get his ass into the hot tub to relax with a capital R. Jake flashed back a quick reply to Owen's e-mail to acknowledge he'd received it. He added he would send more news later. Owen had always been Uncle Owen to both him and Kayden and not keeping in contact was just plain stupid. Owen and Jake's dad, Max, had been as close as brothers.
Jake leaned back in his chair staring at the blank screen after he had sent the quick mail. This first part of the stay at the cabin was always the hardest. He had the guilt that he wasn't working hitting him square in the chest and that itch that he should be doing something, anything, instead of sitting here and looking at his reflection in the flat, black screen. He didn't have a holiday the whole rest of the year but his family had come to what had been Sanctuary One every Christmas and Jake's internal body clock demanded the annual shutdown. Kayden said he looked tired, exhausted even, but Jake knew it was work and a whole lot of something different.
It really had been one hell of a year and he didn't know where to start to analyze just how tired he was. Sanctuary was three times the size it had been this time last December. Case after case had been thrown at them, as well as more and more operatives whom Jake felt personally responsible for. He loved his job, loved what he did, but he was tired at the moment. Tired, and if he was honest, heartsick. And wasn't that the kicker. Heartsick. Fucking Sean and his silver eyes that promised Jake could trust him. He'd seen Nik find Morgan, Manny meet and fall for Josh, Dale get his SEAL in Joseph. Hell, even his own brother had found someone who was the other half of him. It could be done and for a few shining weeks Jake had really thought he'd found someone he could spend good time with.
Attraction and lust had turned to hate and guilt and the overwhelming feeling of being completely thrown at Sean's deception. Even now, despite hating the man, he could remember the taste of him, the feel of him in his arms. They'd danced around each other like combatants on a field of war flirting and kissing and Jake had fallen halfway in love at the possibilities of what he could have with Sean. Strategies for keeping things to themselves warred with an instinctive need to touch. If Sean hadn’t backed off then they would have been lovers. Jesus, imagine the fallout from that. Jake wasn't just exhausted nearing the end of a very busy year heading up a business like Sanctuary. He was tired, angry, unsettled, sad, and he'd just reached the end of his rope.
Best he stayed in the mountains, licked his wounds, and it was probably a very good thing that Kayden and Beckett couldn't make it either. He glanced over at the presents he had wrapped for his brother and Beckett and a sudden stupid loneliness washed over him. The silver paper reminded him of Sean's eyes. Jeez.
More coffee was required.
Without another glance in Bauer’s direction, Schiffer strode over to the nearest shelves and began his inspection. One by one, ornaments came under close inspection. He turned them over and over in his hand, raising them up to the light or moving them close to his face, frowning through his spectacles as he explored in silence. “Very impressive,” he muttered every so often.
Once in a while, he’d be distracted by the dolls, the horses, the miscellaneous toys, taking up a little dancer and a soldier and tucking them under his arms. Then he’d go back to the glass ornaments and inspect them further.
Bauer continued to tidy up, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to mark his customer’s progress around the room. As Schiffer slowly neared the basket in the corner, Bauer felt his heart speed its beating. He moved the broom back and forth mechanically as he turned his attention back to his work, though he anxiously waited for a response from Schiffer.
The response came quickly enough.
“My God!”
Feigning surprise, Bauer stopped his sweeping and turned. “Yes, sir? May I help you with something?”
Schiffer stood before the corner basket with his back to Bauer. His figure was stiff and tense, his head bowed. Silence fell on the two men for a moment. Then Schiffer spoke up. “I know this. I recognize this figure. What in the world are you trying to do, Bauer?”
“Making an honest living, of course.”
“Don’t be clever.” Schiffer turned around, raising a hand, which held the glass minstrel. His complexion was flushed, and mortification shone in his eyes as he stared at Bauer. “What do you mean by this?”
Bauer rested his hands on the broom. Surprised at his own calm, he blinked and regarded his companion. “I intend to sell it, of course. What can your objection be, Herr Schiffer, against that piece?”
“What can my objection be? Are you mad? This is scandalous!”
“What’s so scandalous about a minstrel, pray? I’ve created shepherds and other ragged characters. I see nothing objectionable about a minstrel.”
“This is your son!”
Bauer’s gaze hardened -- as did his heart. “Do you then object to the fact that the minstrel looks like my son, sir? Do you object to the fact that I’m selling it? Or is it for other reasons that you’re suddenly so -- excited -- about a little glass trinket? And how would you know that what you hold in your hand is really Stefan’s likeness?”
Schiffer took a few ragged breaths before he spoke again. “I’ve seen your son, yes. Too many times, in fact, in Heinrich’s private journals. My boy took to drawing yours when words failed him.” He held up his other gloved hand as Bauer started to speak, silencing him. “What, do you fault me now for looking at Heinrich’s private entries? I had no choice after he died, Herr Bauer. He and your son gave me no choice. That journal’s all that’s left of my boy’s life, and I kept it. I read it. Several times over. I forced myself to explore his world to find answers.”
“And did you?”
“Yes. Yes, I believe I did.”
Bauer smiled grimly. “Then consider yourself the more fortunate of the two of us. Stefan left nothing to me. All I could do was to mold that --” He pointed at the minstrel. “And it did little to help me. I remain as ignorant as I was the first time I found out about -- the two of them.”
“So now you think it a prudent thing to sell your son this way, with everyone in this miserable little town knowing what had happened?”
“That minstrel isn’t my son, for heaven’s sake! And you call me mad?” Bauer laughed, anger now edging his words. “It’s nothing more than an empty likeness -- a failed attempt on my part to connect with my dead boy. If I sell it, I’m ridding myself of a useless exercise that’s caused me more grief than I’d hoped.”
Schiffer’s eyes narrowed and he continued to hold the glass minstrel up. “Then destroy it,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, though the challenge was clearly perceived. “If it’s nothing more than poison to you, break it. It hasn’t a partner, after all. You left it in the basket with the rest of your abandoned, imperfect pieces. It means nothing, then, if you think it undeserving of a place on your shelves.” He shook his hand in emphasis. “Here. Rid yourself of a useless glass trinket. If you won’t, I can spare you the tedium and crush it myself.”
Bauer stared at the man in furious disbelief. “You and your wife accused me once of siring a monster. Then you enter my shop, stand there, and mock my son’s memory as though your own played no part in this? How dare you! Pay for what you need, Herr Schiffer, and leave my shop!”
“You assume that my suffering isn’t as great as yours? Heinrich was my oldest, Bauer, my heir! He was the best of my children!” Schiffer retorted. Even from where he stood, Bauer could see the tears gathering in the man’s eyes, but what pity he had felt at first had fled. “Had I known that he’d been weakened by -- by that --”
Bauer raised a finger in warning, cutting Schiffer off. “Take care, sir,” he said, his voice low and trembling. “Take care what you say about my son. Unlike yours, he was my only child. Say one word to disgrace his memory in my face, and I swear I’ll tear your heart out of your chest with my bare hands. Do you think I’m joking? Do you? I won’t think twice, and I’ll laugh -- heaven help me, I’ll laugh -- when I breathe my last on the gallows.”
“What in God’s name -- are you threatening me now?” Schiffer sputtered, eyes widening in shock. “You damned savage --”
“I’m defending my son, who can’t speak for himself. Did you really think that you wouldn’t do the same were I insulting your boy?”
Schiffer, red-faced, his mouth opening and closing without a sound escaping it, merely stared at his antagonist. What self-importance he’d had, what assurance and superiority he’d worn on his shoulders when he’d first entered the shop, had vanished. He seemed to be nothing more than a dandified buffoon, standing there and looking mortified and shocked beyond words, forced into stunned silence by his inferior.
Bauer extended his arm. “Now give me that! If I sell it, it won’t be to you!”
His sharpness seemed to work some magic on Schiffer, who started, blinked, and looked down at the minstrel he held as though seeing it for the first time. It took a moment for him to reply, and when he did, his voice was quieter, more even. Humbled. He raised his hand. “What if I were to pay you handsomely for it?”
“Why would you want it, firstly? You’ve already made your sentiments and your disgust clear.” Bauer glanced at the clock. “We’ve less than five minutes left before I close my shop. Decide now.”
Schiffer remained calm, and he brought his hand down, the minstrel still firmly held. “I’m buying this, along with a few others. I didn’t mock your son’s memory, Herr Bauer, and I won’t. Of the two of us, I consider myself the more fortunate, yes, as I understand my son’s nature now. You’ve yet to accept yours, for all your righteous anger.”
“You may say what you wish. It’s no matter to me, now that I see through you, and believe me, it’s too easy to do that.” Bauer turned around without waiting for another word from Schiffer, and he continued to sweep up, inching his way closer and closer to the counter in a dim hope Hayden Thorne 43
of placing something physical between the two of them before Schiffer provoked him into physical violence. He fought hard not to let the other man see a single sign of his own distress, which was now eating away at him, gutting him. The fury that simmered had broadened its reach. He was painfully, bitterly angry at Clara, his wife, for dying and leaving him alone to raise his son; at Stefan for his selfishness, pride, and his misplaced affection; at Heinrich for giving Stefan ample reason to shame his father and dead mother’s memory; at the Schiffers for being the wealthy, proud hypocrites that they were.
Within moments Schiffer approached the counter with a small collection of figurines and toys, including the glass minstrel. The two men met each other’s gaze for a brief space of time that felt like a suffocating eternity to Bauer. Neither spoke, which was a relief.
All the same, Bauer himself felt less comforted than ever. It was all he could do to force himself back to business, and he tallied Schiffer’s purchases, wrapped the figurines individually, and set them all in a box.
“Thank you, Herr Schiffer,” he said with exquisite dispassion in his voice as he surrendered the box to the other man. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
Schiffer took the box from him and touched his hat. “Good night,” he replied, his voice a perfect match for Bauer’s. “A blessed Christmas to you.”
Beyond the Ivory Tower #1
Sweet Indulgence #2
