Chapter 4
Although initially wondering if they were out of their depth, Hayes and Beckett soon discovered that the task force formed by the local PD, the FBI, and the Mounties worked smoothly and efficiently.
Within two hours of their arrival at the precinct, Hayes and Beckett were in position, having been smuggled inside the school during the bi-weekly delivery of groceries for the priests still in residence.
No one knew how long they’d be on this stakeout.
It was hard to tell since law enforcement had lost track of the thieves’ whereabouts, and it was entirely possible the group of bank robbers had decided to hide out for a few days before moving on to another location.
In any event, Hayes didn’t really mind their being tasked with this assignment, since stakeouts were easy gigs and usually not in the least dangerous.
“You get the left side,” Beckett said, as he flapped his sleeping bag in the air, trying to get it to lie flat.
“Why?” Hayes asked, greatly amused by Beckett’s sleeping bag shenanigans.
“Because I’m not getting diddled by a dead priest in my sleep,” Beckett stated matter-of-factly, looking perfectly serious.
They’d decided to position their sleeping bags along the back wall of the crypt. There was a blind spot with no camera coverage, and it was the only wall that didn’t contain any dead bodies. On their left and right, though, numerous plaques on the walls indicated the presence of coffins.
“Those are also priests,” Hayes informed him, pointing towards the wall on the right side, closest to Beckett.
“Sure, but did you read their names?” Beckett asked, with a wave of his hand towards plaques next to where Hayes’ head would lay. “Gerald, Lester, Paul, Donald—tell me those aren’t kid-diddling names,” he said, as if that should be readily apparent to anyone.
“Is that so? What are your pillow neighbours called, then? Let’s hear it,” Hayes asked with a sardonic smile.
“Dominic, Gabriel, Michael and Benedict—my side has the freaking apostles!” Beckett bragged with an arrogant tilt to his chin.
“The apostles? Did you even pay attention in Sunday school?” Hayes sighed and shook his head while smoothing out his own sleeping bag next to Beckett’s.
“Nope!” Beckett responded without the slightest hint of shame or remorse.
“That’s right, you were too busy climbing the rafters,” Hayes taunted snidely, biting the inside of his lip to keep from laughing.
“My mom never should have told you that damned story!”
“And she shared so much more—” Hayes confessed with a smug laugh.
Beckett’s expression was a peculiar mix of amusement and mortification, which Hayes enjoyed tremendously.
“So now what?” Beckett asked, once they’d finished setting up their sleeping area.
“We wait?” Hayes sat down on his sleeping bag and stretched his legs out in front of him. He had his weapon at the ready in his lap with the safety on, his hand close enough to grab it quickly if he needed to.
“I hate waiting,” Beckett whined plaintively.
“Then busy yourself with radioing command,” Hayes suggested helpfully, leaning back with a tired sigh.
That early morning wake-up call from Gill was catching up with him.
He eyed the carafe of coffee setting on the food station table provided by the task force.
It was on the other side of the room, making him wonder if it would be worth the effort to get up again or even if the caffeine would do him any good.
Beckett muttered something unintelligible while fiddling with the radio he’d attached to his belt, searching for the correct channel.
“Command, come in,” he said, his voice bouncing off the walls of the empty chamber.
He wandered towards the food station, as if searching for the right spot to get the best signal.
It was one of the reasons they’d decided to send in teams instead of relying exclusively on monitoring via cameras.
The building’s sheer size and thick walls made signal reception spotty and they’d been afraid the feed would cut out at the wrong moment.
“Command, come in—” Beckett repeated. “No—sorry, that’s—you guys also playing hide-and-seek in this low-budget Hogwarts?”
Hayes blinked in surprise and sat up a bit, preparing to stand up and go listen in. Before he could do that, Beckett had spun towards him, wearing an excited expression.
“What level are you on?” he asked, pleased at discovering a channel that was used by another team. “Oh—did you try the pool?” Beckett asked, walking slowly towards Hayes in an effort to maintain their connection.
“You were supposed to radio command,” Hayes chastised him.
Beckett shushed him and offered him a small Styrofoam cup filled with black coffee. In a classic demonstration of his innate ability to be both infuriating and amazing at the same time, he winked at Hayes as he handed him the cup.
“Think Cho’d kill us if we went for a midnight skinny dip?” Beckett asked his interlocutor. “Alright, alright, chill—I’m not putting any moves on you. Just bored.” He rolled his eyes while shaking his head.
Hayes bit down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing. Whatever was in the air in Sherbrooke was doing a remarkable job destroying Beckett’s charm with the ladies.
“Alright, Cinderella, keep your slippers on—no joking around. Okay, got it—Crypt dudes, out.” With a dramatic sigh, he switched the radio channel back to its original setting and shook his head.
“I take it she didn’t want to go for a swim?” Hayes asked with a broad smile.
“Threatened to report me for sexual harassment!” Beckett exclaimed resentfully, as if it never occurred to him that he’d done anything wrong.
“Command,” Hayes reminded him as he pointed to the radio.
Beckett grumbled something under his breath and began fiddling with the radio again.
“Command, come in,” he repeated. Static and voices burst from the radio. Beckett winced and rushed to lower the volume. “No need to scream, jeez,” he complained, clearly annoyed. “Hayes and Beck in position,” he added, because that was what he was supposed to have relayed in the first place.
“All is clear and creepy so far—” he confirmed and then stopped abruptly. “Yup, nope—already figured that one out.”
Hayes looked at him quizzically but got no response.
Beckett suddenly narrowed his eyes in concentration.
“Right, we’ll be sure to do that,” he said with a firm nod. “No, ma’am. We won’t step out of—” Abruptly, Beckett’s head whipped around to look at Hayes, eyes wide with—was that anger?
“No, ma’am. No midnight escapade at the pool,” Beckett replied through gritted teeth. “Roger that.”
Hayes had to smother his laughter behind his coffee cup.
“Fuck, she does not like me,” Beckett complained as soon as he cut their connection. They would still hear if anyone signaled them, but they wouldn’t be heard unless they opened their channel again.
“She thinks you’re a misogynist,” Hayes said, recalling Cho’s pulling him aside to express her rather harsh view of Beckett.
“I’m gay,” Beckett said, as if that fact alone should have made her realize he liked women.
Hayes snorted and dropped his head back against the wall as he peered up at his boyfriend.
“First, you’re bi—at best. Second, you can be gay and a misogynist,” Hayes pointed out patiently.
“First, fuck off. Second, fair enough.” His response was not exactly outright agreement, but it was damned fucking close. “Why does she think I hate women then?” he asked, settling down next to Hayes with a huge sigh and placing his gun in his lap.
“Because you undermined her authority in the meeting.”
“Gee whiz—someone’s got a case of the big fat head—I’m a dick to everyone. She’s nothing special,” he snorted, rolling his eyes.
“You know, I think if you called and told her that, it would clear things right up,” Hayes said sarcastically with a wry grin.
Beckett whacked him in the middle of the chest, a move that would have no doubt made Beckett’s mother proud.
Hayes grunted and shifted away.
“What’d you tell her?” Beckett asked. He was beginning to twitch. Already unable to remain still for more than a few seconds at a time. Barely an hour into this stakeout and he was already fidgeting. This ought to be fun.
“Tell her?” Hayes repeated, looking confused.
“When she accused me of being an Ovary Oppressor?”
Hayes snorted at the ludicrous nickname and shook his head.
“Nothing much,” he admitted with a shrug.
“I tried to excuse your behavior, but she cut me off and said to warn you that she wouldn’t tolerate it under her command.
Said something about how you weren’t the only idiot with a gun willing to complete this mission that she could find.
” And Hayes supposed she had a valid point.
She didn’t need their specific skills for this mission.
Any law enforcement officer could successfully conduct a stakeout.
“Well, I admit she’s got balls,” Beckett commented admiringly. “Props for being unapologetic about it, I guess,” he shrugged, looking unconcerned.
Hayes hummed in agreement. He took a big sip of his coffee, telling himself that the barely tolerable sludge would wake him up soon enough.
But he was probably kidding himself. The crypt was dark and quiet.
Sound seemed to be completely absorbed by the coffins in the walls, as if the dead priests lying there were sucking the very life right out of the place.
He shivered and goose bumps rose on his arms.
“This place giving you the heebie-jeebies? Or is it just me?” Beckett asked.
Beckett rhythmically tapped the fingers of his right hand against his leg. Hayes could feel his nervous energy increasing to the point that he practically vibrated with it.
“Definitely a little—uncomfortable,” Hayes readily agreed as a funny tingle raced up and down his spine.
“My Nana used to say ghosts were evil only if they pulled your hair at night. If they didn’t—then you should leave ‘em alone,” Beckett told him in all seriousness.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Hayes said with firm conviction.