The Memory Agent & Fool Me Once

by Kane, Joany

  “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 sai
d 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.”

  The feds car pulls up to a safe house in a quiet neighborhood way outside of the city and parks in the driveway behind another fed car. The two feds get out of the car and escort Jillian into the house.

  Inside the safe house Jillian and her two escorts join two other feds. One of the feds already in the house is Christopher. Christopher is Jillian's age, and extremely good looking. He'd be the leading guy in any other girl's life, but not in Jillian's.

  Christopher’s eyes widen with interest as soon as he sees the lovely Jillian. He stands up and approaches her. “Hello.”

  “Hi,” Jillian answers politely.

  “I'm Christopher. You have nothing to worry about Miss March. And you certainly could be Miss March.”

  “Not an original line, Christopher.” The three other feds share a smile off of Jillian’s quip.

  “We’ll take good care of you,” Christopher promises.

  “I had good care at the police station,” Jillian says missing Derek.

  “Miss March, we're going to need you to look through some photographs to see if you can identify Congressman Reynold's killer,” one of the feds instructs.

  “What was the Congressman into?” Jillian wants to know.

  “What wasn't he into?” Christopher laughs.

  One of the feds shoots a “shut the ef up” look at Christopher as he professionally responds to Jillian’s question. “We're not at liberty to discuss the Congressman's extra-curricular activities.”

  Outside of the safe house Knox's car parks down the street. He gets out of the car and looks around. He texts the information to Bosovich.

  In the port warehouse Bosovich receives Knox’s text. Bosovich addresses his gunmen. “The witness is under the protective custody of the feds at 114 Whitfield Road. I want six guns there tonight. Leave no witnesses alive. Use silencers.”

  It’s now evening. Inside the safe house Jillian sits at a table looking through binders of photographs. Empty pizza boxes are piled on the table.

  Christopher finishes up a slice of pizza and takes a swig of soda.

  Jillian closes a binder. “I don't see him.”

  “Are you sure you got a good look at him? It was dark,” Christopher asks.

  “Yes, I got a good look at him. I'll never forget his face,” Jillian says as she touches the watch.

  “What's with the watch? You keep touching it. Does it have special meaning?” Christopher inquires.

  “Yes it does,” Jillian smiles as she thinks about Derek.

  Christopher waits for Jillian to elaborate. She doesn't.

  “Well, anyway, we've got a couple of more binders to go through,” Christopher tells her.

  “Can I finish this in the morning, I'm pretty tired.”

  “Sure. I'll show you to your room.”

  “I'm good thanks,” Jillian stands up. “Good night.”

  “Sweet dreams,” Christopher offers as Jillian heads upstairs.

  One of the feds teases Christopher. “I'd give it a rest, probie. It's been eight hours and she hasn't warmed up to your charms.”

  “She will,” Christopher boasts.

  Upstairs, Jillian enters her room. She looks out the window hoping that Derek might be there watching. She doesn’t see him, or anyone. She lies down on the bed and touches the watch.

  Outside of the safe house, hidden down the street, a jeep is parked.

  Inside the jeep Derek drinks from a large cup of coffee while keeping his eye on the house. Having gone over twenty-four hours with no sleep, he's pretty exhausted. He dozes off.

  A couple of hours later, in the middle of the night, Bosovich's six men quietly approach the house. One of the men has no trouble taking out the fed guarding the house, shooting him in the back with his silencer.

  Inside Derek’s jeep, Derek instinctively snaps awake - just in time to see the dark figures moving near the house. He radios for backup. “I need backup at 114 Whitfield Road now!”

  He hustles out of the jeep, unholsters his gun and runs towards the house.

  At the house, Bosovich's men enter. The one fed downstairs manages to radio for help and take out two of Bosovich's men. Four men are left. They kill the fed.

  The four men head for the stairs.

  Upstairs, Christopher rushes into Jillian’s room. He wakes her up.

  “What's going on?” She asks groggily.

  “You need to hide. Quick!” He shoves her under the bed. The remaining fed gun battles with Bosovich’s men, killing one of them before he gets killed. There are three gunmen left.

  Christopher holds the men back from the bedroom area, engaging in a gun battle.

  Derek rushes into the house. He dashes up the stairs but is surprised by one of Bosovich's men. Derek easily disarms the man, but the man knocks Derek's gun from his hand. Derek and the man engage in a fist battle.

  Upstairs, Christopher is forced back into the bedroom by the onslaught of gun fire. Christopher manages to kill one of the two gunmen. But the second gunman gets the better of him and shoots Christopher dead.

  Jillian sees his body fall to the floor, his dead face facing hers. She holds her mouth to keep quiet.

  Back by the stairs, Derek snaps the bad guy’s neck and drops the limp body on the floor.

  In Jillian’s room, the one remaining gunman looks around. He looks under the bed, sees Jillian, is about to shoot her when Derek enters the room and shoots the gunman dead.

  “Jillian,” Derek calls out.

  Jillian crawls out from under the bed and runs to Derek grabbing him in an embrace. “Thank God you're here!”

  He hugs her tight to calm her shaking. “It's okay. You’re okay.” And she feels it, feeling secure in his broad embrace, finding comfort and safety.

  Derek looks at the dead bodies and makes a judgment call. “Let's get you out of here. You're staying in my protective custody from now on.” Jillian is relieved to hear this.

  Outside of the safe house Derek and Jillian hurry to his jeep and get in. Derek drives down the street, turning the corner just as more feds and cops arrive.

  Inside Derek’s jeep Jillian is up front in the passenger seat. She looks at Derek, noticing that he’s pretty banged up. “Are you okay?” She asks sincerely concerned.

  “I've been in worse fights,” he shrugs.

  Derek makes a call on his cell-phone, “Captain Harris, I’ve got Jillian March.”

  Back in Captain Harris’ office, Captain Harris talks on the phone with Derek. “What the hell is going on, Derek? I just got word that four feds and six perps are dead.”

  Derek, in the jeep, continues the phone conversation. “The witness would be dead if I hadn't shown up. There's got to be a leak somewhere.”

  “Probably on the fed side, no one in our station knew where she was going,” Captain Harris responds. “Where are you now? Where's the witness?”

  “She's safe and with me,” Derek tells the captain in their phone call. “And she's staying with me.”

  “This is the feds case, Derek,” the captain warns.


  “And look how well they've handled it,” Derek quips. “If the leak is with the feds, she can’t go back with them.”

  “You need to bring her in,” the captain orders.

  “Once we get the leak and identify the murderer. Until then, she's in my care. I need you to back me on this, captain. Please.”

  “This could cost you your badge.”

  “Worth it to keep a witness safe.”

  “To keep that witness safe you mean.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Derek asks defensively.

  “The only times I’ve ever seen you smile, Winton, was last year on April first and this year on April first.”

  Derek hangs up on the captain, ending the call.

  Inside the police station Knox has been watching the captain talk on the phone. When he sees the captain end the call in frustration, he approaches the captain’s office.

  “What's going on?” Knox asks the captain.

  “The feds protecting the witness are all dead.”

  “And the witness?”

  “Winton has her. She's safe.”

  “That pussy sure has nine lives,” Knox quips.

  “What the hell are you doing here so late, Knox?” The captain asks.

  “Following up on a lead in my drug case,” Knox snips.

  Knox turns his back on the captain mouthing "fuck me" as he walks away. Knox sends a text message to Bosovich. “The cunt is still alive.”

  Inside the warehouse Bosovich receives the text from Knox. Like a madman he violently hurls his phone at one of his men; the phone nails the guy in the face breaking his nose and breaking the phone.

  Bosovich composes himself as he instructs the man he just hit in the face. “Go get me a new phone. Now!”

  *****

  Outside of a mom and pop motel in the middle of nowhere, Derek’s jeep pulls up and parks in the back next to the farthest room away from the street.

  Derek and Jillian enter the room. There are two beds in the room. Derek double bolt locks the door. He checks the windows to make sure they're secure and locked and closes the curtains.

  “I bet you're pretty beat,” he says to Jillian, becoming completely aware that he’s alone with her in a bedroom.

  “Me? I've gotten some sleep in the last twenty-four hours. How about you?” She asks concerned because he looks exhausted.