laskjdf   

<PRE> 

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." 

</PRE>