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Disclaimer and warning: If you really like Inspector Thatcher then don't read this story. There are references to violent acts and some swear words so if you can't handle it then don't read the story. Also these characters aren't mind so don't sue me, I am a poor college student. If there are some misspelled words sorry, my computer was rebelling against me and at times would refuse to let me use spell check. All comments are welcomed and can be sent to Nerine1431@Aol.com Grazie. Divia

"Even children are hung for telling the truth."

Jehanne La Pucelle

"Constable!" Meg snapped, as she tripped over a small box, which had been carelessly placed in the doorway. Fraser quickly emerged from his office, and stood before her. "What is the meaning of this box?"

He looked down at the box, which lay near Meg's feet. "Well, sir, I believe it was used to mail something."

"I know what it was used for, Constable. I mean why is it placed here where anyone can trip over it." Her voice was harsh towards him, as usual.

"I believe Constable Murdoch placed it there, unaware of the proper procedure for packages." He sighed, and then cleared his throat, trying to find the courage to be bold. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted," Meg said, with little enthusiasm, as she picked up the package looking it over. She was more interested in the package's vague return address then she was with Fraser's rambling.

"Well, it seems sir, that," nervously he pressed his thumb against his eyebrow. "Things no longer seem to be up to code since Constable Turnbull's departure." He finally said it, and breathed a sigh of relief. Fraser had to admit that Turnbull did do a lot of work around the Consulate.

Meg walked into her room, as if she did not hear him speak, and then placed the package upon her desk. He followed her, and stood before her desk. Finally she glanced up at him.

"I don't have time for this Constable. I assure you that Constable Turnbull is very happy where he is, doing whatever it is he is doing." She lifted the package, placed it to her ear, and shook it.

"Sir, I don't think you should be doing that," Fraser warned.

Meg placed the package down, and against procedure she ripped off the brown paper. Opening the lid she found newspapers, which she fumbled through, searching for whatever was in the box.

"Constable Turnbull was very valuable to us, however he is more valuable in Ottawa. You and Constable Murdoch will have to pick up his duties along with your own." Meg found a small velvet box and lifted it out.

"Sir, that is another issue I would like to speak to you about. It has been from my observation that Constable Murdoch does not do his job. He.." Meg opened the velvet box, to reveal a Celtic knot charm. Her face went blank and a chill ran up her spine as her fingers traced the intricate design.

"Sir?" Fraser asked, concerned by Meg's pale face.

"What?" She inquired, looking up suddenly.

"May I ask what is in the box?" Meg closed the velvet box suddenly, and then held it tightly in her hand. She regained her composure as best she could.

"No you may not Constable. Dismissed."

"Sir."

"I said dismissed!" Deciding it was better not to anger her more Fraser quickly left her office, wondering what she received that could have unsettled her so much.

Meg sat down and reopened the box. Her body was shaking as she gazed upon the knot. The sight of the object made her sick to her stomach. Quickly she closed the box. Wanting to rid herself of the trinket she threw it into the trash hoping it would erase the memories.

**** ****

Meg gazed out of her office window, watching the street nervously. It had been the fifth time she looked out the window in the last ten minutes. Fraser noticed her personality had changed drastically since she received the mysterious package. More then a week had passed and Fraser found her sleeping less, a little more jumpy and very short with him when answering his questions, more so then usual. Meg was paranoid about her surroundings, which was very unusual for her. He was concerned for her, but dared not say so, for fear of the repercussions.

"As I was saying.." Meg sat down in her chair. The bags under her eyes were visible, despite her valid attempt to hide them with makeup. She paused for a moment, trying to remember what she was saying. The endless nights of insomnia left her with the inability to think straight, nor the strength to perform her duties. Finding it impossible to conduct business Meg was about to dismiss Fraser when there was a knock at her door.

"Yes?" she asked her voice weak from lack of sleep.

Constable Murdoch emerged from the doorway with a box in his hands. "A package just came." He walked into her office and placed it upon her desk then left without being dismissed. Fraser eyed the man, disgusted by his lack of discipline. How he became an RCMP was beyond Fraser.

Meg stared at the box that laid upon her desk. She hesitated, unsure if she should proceed and open it. Fear could be seen in her eyes. And for the first time Fraser saw that her self-assured personality had wilted away. She looked at him for help, but Fraser did not know what to do.

Finally, Meg tore the brown paper from the box and opened it, fearing what she would find. In side the box there was red tissue paper, which Meg folded away, only to find a baby doll, splattered with red paint, its eyes missing and its head removed from the body. Meg shoved the box away from her, which caused Fraser to come forward and he picked up the box, to see its contents. He examined the box with no expression then noticed a piece of paper peaking out from behind the doll, which he pulled out and read.

"Children are often hung for telling the truth." Fraser looked at Meg confused by the quote. Meg sighed deeply, and without looking at him she muttered:

"Joan of Arc said it at her trail in Rouen." Meg rubbed her eyes. "She was implying that no matter how she answered her judges they would find her guilty and condemned her to death."

"They did burn her at the Old Market Place," Fraser said, throwing in his knowledge. "She was right, but why would someone send you this?" The real question on his mind was "Why would this upset you so much?" but he dared not ask it.

"It's none of your concern, Constable." And without another word Meg stood up and left her office. Fraser turned, about to say something, but he did not have the chance to mutter his words. He sighed deeply; knowing something had to be done. Fraser could not watch as Meg continued to be harassed, for it was hindering her life.

**** ****

"Ray, I need your help," Fraser said, as he walked down the hallway of the police station. Ray groaned, as he smelled his sandwich, wondering what it could be made out of.

"Smell this Benny, what does it smell like to you?" He asked, shoving the sandwich into Fraser's face.

"I would rather not, Ray." The mountie said, as he made a face, smelling the odd order coming from the sandwich. "I was wondering if it was possible if you could get some police files from Canada."

"Why?" Ray inquired, throwing his sandwich away and sitting in his chair. "What's this all about?" Ray wondered what kind of trouble his friend was getting into.

"Well, you see..." Fraser paused. "It is for Inspector Thatcher. I believe someone is harassing her. Actually, I know they are because they sent her a headless doll."

"Maybe they were just mad at her and taking out their frustrations," Ray grumbled, as he shifted through a pile of papers on his desk, looking for something. "She isn't the nicest person around, Benny."

"Yes, I am aware of that Ray, however someone is harassing her. She refuses to tell me what it is about, but for her heath and safety I believe it is imperative that I find out who is causing her pain. I think her life is in danger." Fraser looked at Ray, who heaved a sign and then shook his head.

"I hate when you do this to me. What do you want me to do."

"I need some files, from the an old case. The case involved an under aged girl; her name was Angelique LaCroix. I tried to get some information but they refused to open the files. They are closed to the public, however I thought you may persway them by telling them you are working on a case which involves this girl." Fraser sat patently, awaiting Ray's acceptance of the case.

"You want me to lie?" Ray asked, shocked.

"You wouldn't be lying, Ray. It is the truth. Besides it is for the wellbeing of Inspector Thatcher." Fraser said, to which Ray only shook his head.

"I'll see what I can do. I ain't promising you anything, but I will see what I can do." Ray told him and Fraser smiled.

"Thank you kindly, Ray." Fraser stood up, and was about to leave, but paused. "May I ask how Francesca is doing?" He was a little unsure if he should ask or not, for the subject was still painful for the entire family. Ray hide the truth from the entire station, telling everyone that Fran went to visit relatives in New York. He was too embarrassed to tell them the truth, and he wanted to protect his little sister from anymore harm that might come to her.

"As well as can be expected. She doesn't say much, and only sits around the house." His voice was low when he spoke, his eyes fixated upon his desk, unable to look at Fraser. The mountie nodded, feeling he was to fault for her drastic decision. It was his hope that his friend also didn't fault him.

"Tell her that I said hello." Fraser said after the long, uncomfortable pause. "And thank you for your help, Ray." He just nodded and Fraser walked away, passing Fran's old desk as he did. In her place sat an older woman, perhaps in her forties, dressed in a long flowered skirt and matching shirt. Her desk was kept neat and orderly. Fraser noticed the station did not seem as lively without Fran's presence.

**** ****

"This is what I found out. I'll just tell you it and if you have any questions blink or something, OK?" Ray said, as he stood besides Fraser, who was standing outside the Consulate, on sentry duty. Ray rubbed his hands together, trying to stay warm.

"I found out the information you wanted me to. It seems that this Angelique LaCroix was one fucked up girl. I mean really messed up. She took her history teacher's baby out into the woods. There she tortured the baby, taking out its eyes, burning part of the kid and then finally decapitating it, takin' the kids head off. It was one of the worst cases you guys had seen in a long time, if not the worst. At least that is what the clerk told me." Ray began to jump about, the cold air getting to him. "I was reading some newspapers on it and I guess everyone in Canada was really pissed off by the murder. Public officials got involved, and the heat was on for someone to find the killer. And guess who was on the case, your Dragon Lady. She was one of the detectives. Oh but it gets better, my friend, because as soon as this Angelique was sentenced guess who made it into the RCMP?"

"Inspector Thatcher." Fraser said, and Ray looked at him shocked, not expecting an answer. "My shift is over."

"Nothing like promoting a great national hero," he grumbled, sarcastically. "Her partner was offered a position with the RCMP but he never took it. A couple of years later he killed himself with a bullet to the head." Ray shook his head. "Oh and you will also be interested to know this girl was let out a little over a year ago. I guess after her they changed the laws in Canada." Fraser nodded, as he absorbed the information.

"Thank you kindly, Ray. You have been a great help." Fraser reached for the door handle, but Ray stopped him.

"Do you think this girl is after the Inspector?" He asked, with genuine concern in his voice. True, at times he joked about her death but he never really meant it.

"I'm not sure, Ray. But I will keep you informed. Again, thank you for your help." Fraser walked into the Consulate and Ray shook his head walking towards his car.

As he walked into Inspector Thatcher's office he was a little apprehensive. He did not have her permission to enter. Also, Fraser wondered if he should intrude in her personal affairs, but believed it was in her best interest if he did. So, boldly, he walked into her office, hiding his nervousness. She looked up at him, about to question his presence in her office when he spoke first.

"Angelique LaCroix is harassing you, isn't she?" Meg's face dropped, when Fraser uttered the name.

"How the hell did you find out her name?" She demanded, angrily. "The case was closed, sealed." Meg could not believe Fraser would pry into her personal life.

He remained strong under the pressure. "Under the circumstances I thought it was best," he replied, hoping his genuine concern would ease her temper. It did not work.

"You had no right to mettle into my personal matters!" she yelled. "You are as expendable as Constable Turnbull was! Do not forget your place Constable! Dismissed!" Fraser quickly exited her office, fearful of what she might do, as her temper became worse.

Fraser gathered his thoughts about the situation. He was fully aware of Inspector Thatcher's wishes, but he could not let things drop. He knew that Meg was a very headstrong and independent woman, but he could not stand by and allow this girl to destroy her slowly. It was his belief that Inspector Thatcher was in danger and Fraser needed to find Angelique LaCroix. Perhaps by confronting her the matter would be end.

*** ***

Fraser tracked the young girl all day. He found her life was mundane, if not dull, for she only went to the library, grocery store and to the park. Fraser noticed she seemed to like the parks, and despite the cold weather she would stand in them for hours, never moving as she stared off into the distance. He found she was like most young girls, if not quieter because she did not speak to anyone and no one meet her.

Fraser followed her into an old cemetery, around evening. The wind began to pick up, blowing the snow that collected upon the ground the night before. Fraser pulled his wool coat closer to his body and bowed his head as the wind blew. Fraser followed the girl as she weaved in and out of the old tombstones, heading further and further into the cemetery. His eyes studied her movements, she walked gracefully, despite the foot of snow that blanketed the ground. Her long black coat blowing in the breeze, her hair flowed wildly in the wind. Finally, the young girl came to a tombstone, under a large maple tree, and she looked down at the stone, as if she were reading it.

"Angelique LaCroix," Fraser said. The young girl did not move.

"You have been following me all day. Why stop me now?" She asked, and then turned to face him. Her ice blue eyes settled upon him and for the first time Fraser was able to place a face with the horrible crime.

Angelique's clothes hung off her, two sizes too large, but they could not hide her slender body. She was almost as tall as he and did not cower before the mountie. Angelique gave the impression she was annoyed by his presence. Her hair wavy and black hung around her eyes, giving her not an ominous expression, as he expected, but a pitiful one. Angelique's appearance reminded him of a run away girl for she did not have the face of a killer. She seemed to have a childlike innocence about her and Fraser found himself feeling sorry for the malnourished girl whom stood before him.

"Praytell, why are you following me, sir?" Her eyes studied Fraser, which reminded him of a curious little child.

"Are you harassing Inspector Thatcher?" Fraser asked, to which he received a snicker.

"I see that it is true what they say. Your history will always haunt you." Angelique crossed her arms. "I am damned no matter what I say to you. If I say that I am not you will not believe me. If I say that I am you will drag me back to Canada." She spoke well, if not poetically, her voice gentle. Angelique brushed off the tombstone, so the name could be read. "Let it be known that it matters little to me what happens to the bitch and she deserves all misfortune that befalls her."

"You committed a crime and she did her duty. Inspector Thatcher found the evidance.." Angelique began to laugh. "What is so funny?"

"Your beloved Inspector Thatcher was more concerned with finding the assailant then she was the truth," she growled, her voice suddenly becoming cold and harsh. "Do not make a hero out of her Constable, for she is not worthy of your praise." Angelique sighed, as she rubbed her hands together, trying to make then stay warm. Fraser took off his gloves handing them to her. She hesitated for a moment and then Angelique finally accepted them.

"I have nothing against you, Constable. I find fault with your superior mostly because she is a lying bitch." Angelique said. She aroused his interested for Fraser had to know why she was slandering Inspector Thatcher.

"Tell me your account of the incident." Angelique looked at him, almost as if she were shocked by his words. She paused a moment and then cleared her throat, as though she had wanted to tell her side of the story for years but no one would listen.

"As I said your beloved inspector and her partner were more concerned with themselves and the city officials. They needed someone to blame, and I was that person." Angelique leaned up against the maple tree.

"Much to my dismay, I was the victim of circumstances. The child belonged to my history teacher, the same teacher who failed me. I was an A student. True I was in the woods around the time the child was murdered but so were a dozen other people. My necklace was found at the scene of the murder, which I lost two days before hand. Somehow it just magically appeared at the murder scene. Topping off matters the mother of the murdered baby was the daughter of some damn high official, I don't know whom, and I guess it doesn't fuckin matter now. Everyone in Canada wanted someone's blood and I had to be the martyr. Those are the "facts" about the case."

"You did not kill the baby?" Fraser asked, and she glanced at him with her icy eyes.

"You are fuckin' amazing, Constable!" she declared, scaratically. "But your damn inspector didn't give a shit about the truth, she was too damn concerned with her own fuckin' career to care who she destroyed." Fraser could not believe his ears. Inspector Thatcher was a model officer always following the laws.

"Perhaps when the crime accord all the evidence they found pointed to you," he suggested, trying to justify his superior's actions.

"Her partner falsified evidence, so yeah I guess it all pointed to me." She pulled her thin coat tighter around her, trying to stay warm.

"You could have spoken up. Someone would have wanted to hear the truth."

"How gallantly you say that! Yes, of course I could have, and even though all of Canada wanted me dead they would have been swayed by my enlightening words and drop all the charges," she said coldly. Angelique stood up straight and stepped back. "Now you know the truth Constable, how does it make you feel?" She took another step back, turned and walked away.

"Ms. LaCroix, wait," Fraser called after her and Angelique turned around. "I will have to remind you that harassment and murder are against the law." She did not say anything, turned and quietly walked away. "I'm warning you!" Fraser yelled. "If you hurt her I will hunt you down!" Angelique acted as if she did not hear his words.

** **

Upon reaching the Consulate Fraser saw six cruisers and yellow police tape surrounding the building. A large crowd of pedestrians gathered around the yellow tape, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. A few television stations were also gathered around, asking officers questions, hoping to find out what happened.

Without hesitation Fraser rushed into he crowd, his heart pounding within his chest. He pushed his way to the front of the line where he was meet by a fat cop who yelled for everyone to stay back. Paying no attention to him Fraser ducked under the police barricade.

"Hey!" The fat cop snapped, but Fraser quickly ran into the Consulate before anyone could stop him. As soon as he walked into the door he saw Constable Murdoch sitting by the stairs, being questions while numerous cops roamed the building.

"Benny," Ray called out, and weaved his way through the sea of officers to get to his friend's side.

"What happened Ray? Where is Inspector Thatcher?" he asked nervously.

"She's in her office." Fraser took a step but Ray caught his arm. "Benny she has been murdered." Fraser pulled away from his friend and went to Meg's office. He saw Lt. Welsh standing over a white sheet, soaked with blood while other officers made notes and took pictures.

"Constable," he said as Fraser walked towards him. "I am sorry." Fraser did not respond, instead he bent down, and rested on knee against the carpet. "I want you to know that every available man is on the case right now." Fraser did not hear Welsh's words; he was more absorbed with seeing Meg's body. He simply could not believe that she was in fact dead.

"Benny, it's a pretty sick sight. I don't think you need to see it," Ray said, standing behind his friend. Fraser pulled back the blood stained sheet to reveal Meg laying on her back, her hands were tied with a rope and her throat was slit from ear to ear, done with such force the slice was almost to the bone. Fraser closed his eyes, and bowed his head. He remained calmed, keeping his emotions in check and quickly placed the sheet back over her lifeless body then stood up.

"We found this near the body." Ray handed Fraser a plastic bag, which contained a small piece of paper.

"Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Fraser's hand tightened around the bag as he growled:

"Angelique."

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