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Somehow, Friday afternoon in the homicide pen was a slow, steady crawl towards the long awaited long weekend, the Detectives and Sergeants frankly bored out of their mind, alternating between drinking the horrendous office coffee and shuffling around the paperwork on their desk. The arrival of their mail was a welcome distraction.
“Detective Rizzoli, you’re popular,” he commented, dropping half a dozen letters on her desk. She sifted through them, binning two of the letters, stuffing one back in her pocket, and then shovelling two more into the top draw of her desk.
The last one was an interesting one – no return address, just her name and division printed in block letters, CONFIDENTIAL stamped across the top.
“Interesting,” she mumbled as Frankie popped up behind her.
“No return address Janie? Well, at least the mailroom scans everything,” he told her as he settled at his own desk across from hers, shuffling through his own mail.
“Yeah, at least there’s that. Although I’d love if they could filter out that one guy who keeps thinking his neighbour’s poodle is the government’s way of keeping an eye on him?” she grumbled, clocking the lack of delivery stamps.
“Well, this letter ain’t him – no stamps. Must have a very local fan,” she said, flipping the letter over, nodding at Korsak when he asked if anyone else wanted more crappy coffee before they could officially leave in 23 minutes.
Just her and Frankie left at their desks.
Jane slid her thumb under the flap and ripped it open, revealing a single, pressed black dahlia, the petals perfectly preserved.
It was both beautiful and unsettling – who sent a single flower, and in a letter too?
She pulled it out, examining it, before setting it down on the table, noticing the letter had something else – a note.
As she pulled it out and opened it, a small, almost invisible cloud of fine powder dispersed upwards, sprinkling over her face, her desk, the dahlia, now specked with white.
She froze, meeting eyes with her brother, who was the only witness to what had happened.
“Janie, do not move, do not breath. Korsak, stay OUT THERE!” he yelled at the Sergeant, who was about to come back in.
Frankie picked up the phone, dialling a number that the officers dreaded, before making his way to the door, locking them in.
An alarm sounded through the precinct, officers all making their way out.
All of them except Jane, who had pushed herself away from her desk, fighting hard to not rub her eyes; Frankie, who was back on the phone, trying to explain the situation to someone; Korsak, who refused to evacuate, still standing at the door, coffees now forgotten on the floor; and – Maura?
What the fuck was Maura still doing in the building?
“Who’s in trouble, Korsak?” she asked, before looking into the bullpen, eyes widening when she saw Frankie, and then Jane.
“Before you ask, Maura, I’m fine – it’s Jane who got it all over her.”
“You know, it’s probably just flour… or baby powder,” she said, lifting her hand up towards her face, Dr. Isles yelling for her to keep her hands away from her face.
“Until we can work out what it is, we are treating it like a credible threat, Jane. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” she chastised the Detective.
“Okay, Maura,” she responded, placing her hands back into her lap, trying to move out of Maura’s line of sight, the look on her friend’s face only leading to her own anxiety over the potential seriousness of the matter spiking.
*
Twenty minutes later, Maura had acquired a hazmat suit and had entered the bullpen, eyeing both Frankie and Jane.
Frankie seemed alright, his heart rate and vitals normal.
Good. Maybe Jane was right, and this was all just a hoax.
Jane watched this all from her desk, forcing herself to not touch anything else lest she contaminated more of the bullpen. If Frankie was fine, then she should be fine too, right? Right?
She felt fine, mostly. A little shaky, but she chalked that up to the adrenaline that was still coursing through her. Oh, and that headache she had? That was just the stress.
The tickle in her throat – just the dust.
Nothing to worry about at all.
Nothing, she lied to herself, trying to keep a straight face as Maura approached her.
“How are you feeling?” Jane asked, voice low, feeling for her best friend’s pulse, staring into her eyes as Jane responded.
“A little like an idiot – an unstamped letter? Was probably from a walk-in, which means it wasn’t scanned, which means -”
“I mean physically, Jane. You can beat yourself up later. I want to know how you feel.”
Jane cleared her throat, before responding with an I’m fine.
“You’re flushed,” Isles observed, raising her eyebrows.
“Maura, it’s a hundred degrees in here,” Jane shot back, rubbing her temples. The headache that she was ignoring was refusing to be, well, ignored.
“The ambient temperature in here is only seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit, Jane,” Isles pointed out, her brow furrowed, “Your respirations are shallow too.”
“Well, my respirations are shallow because it does look like a potential bioterrorist is my newest fan,” she said, pointing Jane towards her desk, where the note still remained.
Jane coughed again, a wave of dizziness washing over her, the edges of her vision going fuzzy for just a second.
“Jane,” Maura’s veiled worry was no longer veiled.
“Okay, so maybe I’m fine was stretching a bit.”
“You think?” she queried, turning around to look for Frankie, who was back to being on the phone.
“You guys keep a med kit in here?” she asked, hoping the answer was yes. Frankie nodded, placing the receiver down and walking across the far end of the bullpen and placing it on Korsak’s chair, wheeling the chair across the room towards the two of them.
“Jane, I can’t feel through these, so you’re going to have to tell me yourself, and do not lie. Do you feel like you’re running a fever?”
Jane gingerly lifted her hand to her head, a feeling like she’d touched coals barehanded.
“Yes,” she said, not bothering to lie this time – it looked like Maura knew the answer anyway, but was hoping Jane wouldn’t confirm it.
“Not to scare you Jane, but this isn’t a hoax. Whatever this is, you’re infected.”