by Mary Head
“I didn’t think you’d be in today,” Harry continued, eyebrows raised as he stared appraisingly at David.
“What else was I going to do?”
Harry stood and walked slowly towards David, his eyes scrutinizing. “Are you sure this is the best place for you right now?”
“I couldn’t just sit around, waiting for a phone call or something,” David replied, shaking his head. “My life is two things, work and Hannah. I need work to distract me, because if I think too much –” He stopped speaking abruptly and took a breath.
Harry looked thoughtfully at David for a moment before speaking again. “I understand what you’re going through, David –”
“No, you don’t,” David interrupted quietly with a small shake of his head. “You have no idea what I’m going through.”
“Fair enough,” Harry murmured, staring sympathetically at David. “But I still don’t know if this is really the best place for you to be today.”
“Look,” David sighed, “it’s not like I can go home anyway; they haven’t cleared the house yet. I have work I can do here, the reports and everything from yesterday. I just need the distraction.” He raised his eyebrows, staring beseechingly at the other man. “Please, Harry. I’m asking you as a friend.”
“Fine,” Harry said finally. “But keep a low profile.” David opened his mouth to speak, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “You act like I don’t know you.”
David smirked and nodded. “Thanks.”
After leaving Harry’s office, David headed for his own, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He didn’t want to interact with anybody, didn’t want to have to answer any questions; he just wanted to hole himself up in his office and distract himself with work.
As soon as he closed the door behind him, he pressed his back to it and drew in a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes as his head tipped against the door. His office was neutral ground, one of the places that didn’t make him think of Hannah very often, and he hoped he could clear his mind for a little while.
The ringing of his cell phone shattered that thought, and he jumped, his eyes snapping open as he pulled his phone from his pocket. It was Hannah’s best friend Madison, and David sighed, guilt tugging at him as he answered the call.
“Hey, Maddie, I’m sorry –”
“The police just left, Hannah – Hannah’s really missing?”
“Yeah,” David said quietly as he walked over to sink into his chair.
“Do you – do you know anything yet?”
David lifted his hand to his forehead. “Not really, no.”
There was a beat, and then Madison said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called. I just –”
“It’s okay. I know you’re worried. I should’ve called you, but I’m just. . . not all there right now. The police – the police are investigating, though, and they’ll find her. Everything – everything’s gonna be fine.”
Madison took a deep breath, and he imagined her nodding as she said, “I’ll talk to you later, Mr. Cole.”
“Bye, Maddie.”
David dropped his phone on his desk and raised both hands to his face, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes for a moment before he opened them to stare down at his calendar.
When his phone had rung a few seconds before, for one instant he thought it was Hannah, even though the tone hadn’t been the one he used for her. For a split second, he’d thought maybe she’d lost her phone and was calling him to come get her, had entertained the notion that she was alive and safe somewhere and just needed him to pick her up and bring her home.
Now, he just felt guilty for not having been the one to tell Madison about Hannah. He’d considered it briefly the night before when he gave her contact information to Detective Blackburn, but he really hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to worry about both her and Hannah, and the thought hadn’t even occurred to him today.
His gaze landed on the picture of Hannah next to his monitor and a memory rose quite forcefully in his mind of when she was fifteen. She went to a party at a friend’s house, assuring him it was just kids from her class, and he dropped her and Madison off, telling them he’d be back to pick them up at ten o’clock.
After he’d gone home, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling deep in his gut. He’d felt it before, that feeling that something was wrong with Hannah; she liked to teasingly call it his “Daddy sense.” More often than not he was wrong, his fears assuaged by a simple phone call, but when he’d tried to call her that night, she didn’t answer, and he’d thrown caution to the wind and driven back to the party.
He’d found Hannah locked in the bathroom, and ushered her and Madison into the car, using his FBI badge to end the party before taking the girls home.
It turned out Hannah had begun talking to an older boy, and things had been going fine until he’d gone to kiss her and tried to put his hands under her dress. She’d pulled away, telling him to stop, and when he tried again, she shoved him away and ran upstairs, locking herself in the bathroom. She’d been too scared and embarrassed to go back to look for her purse, and David remembered her looking up at him when she finished her story and asking if he was mad at her. He assured her he wasn’t, pulling her to him and telling her he was just glad she was okay.
David sighed, tearing his gaze from the picture. His Daddy sense was definitely tingling now; the only difference was he knew something was wrong, and there was nothing he could do about it. He thought about the bedtime stories he used to read to Hannah when she was a little girl, fairytales about princesses who were locked in towers or dungeons by evil witches (or stepmothers), who were saved by knights in shining armor.
He wanted desperately to be her knight, but how could he when he didn’t know where the tower was?
His eyes fell on his phone and he stared at it for a second before reaching for it, unlocking it and pulling up his recent contacts, staring at Hannah’s name. Even as he tapped it, he knew it was futile, but it was like a compulsion, and part of him still held on to the hope she would answer.
His hand rose to his face as he waited for the call to connect, heart tight in his chest as he waited to see if it would ring, and then hung up just as he heard the click of her voicemail. He didn’t know if he could stand to listen to her voice, not right now.
The phone slipped from his hand to drop back onto his desk with a dull thud and he turned towards his computer, needing to distract himself, but just as he started to work on his report from the day before, his phone rang again.
Once more, his heart leapt, but the caller ID disappointed him yet again, and he answered it, listening as an Arlington police officer told him his house was cleared and he could go back whenever he wanted. He thanked the officer, hung up, and turned his attention back to his computer. Home was the last place he wanted to be right now.
Just as his hands returned to his keyboard, another distraction came in the form of a knock on his door, and he sighed as he called out to the visitor to enter.
Eli pushed open the door and stepped into the office, holding a report in his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but David cut him off by standing and snatching the report from his hand.
“Where’s the 302?” David asked as he thumbed through it.
Eli frowned slightly. “We don’t need that, that’s just –”
“Are you telling me how to do my job?” David interrupted, his gaze sharp as he looked at Eli.
“No, sir,” Eli said, his frown deepening. “I’m just saying we don’t need –”
“How long have you been here, a week? Don’t tell me what we do or don’t need,” David snapped, thrusting the report back at Eli and forcing him back a step. “Just get it done.”
He pushed past Eli, and Eli turned to stare after him as he stalked through the main office to the community coffee pot situated on a table by the wall.
Chris walked by a moment later and Eli stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“What’s
up with him?” Eli asked when Chris looked at him, gesturing towards David, who was scowling as he fixed his coffee. “Is this about yesterday? Is he pissed because I was talking to Hannah?”
Chris stared at him, looking somewhat taken aback, and Eli continued.
“I mean, she came to talk to me yesterday, we sort of made plans for this weekend and she gave me her number. I almost called her last night – would that have been weird?” Eli’s eyebrows knitted together. “Should I have called her?”
“Jesus, Eli,” Chris hissed, “will you shut up?”
Eli looked up at him, surprised. “What the hell is going on? Are you pissed at me too?”
“This has nothing to do with you – you don’t know?” Chris asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Know what?” Eli asked, hopelessly confused. “I’ve been out all morning.”
Chris took a breath, glancing over at David before looking back at Eli.
“Hannah was kidnapped last night,” he said in a low voice, and Eli’s face fell. “Looks like she was taken right from their house.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Knowing her, I bet she put up one hell of a fight.”
Eli couldn’t immediately speak, feeling as if his mouth had suddenly been stuffed full of cotton.
“Oh god,” he breathed finally. “I was this close to calling her, what if –”
“Even if you had, I don’t think it would’ve done anything. David got home after seven last night, and apparently it looked like she’d been taken well before then. You and I didn’t get done with dinner until almost seven.”
“Yeah,” Eli murmured, and then frowned. “How come we’re not on this?”
“Not our jurisdiction,” Chris replied, his eyebrows knitting together. “Local police until there’s a need for FBI involvement.”
“You think that’s really going to stop him?” Eli said skeptically, throwing a pointed look in David’s direction.
“You catch on quick,” Chris said, grinning a little before stepping away.
Eli watched him go and then looked back at David, staring for a moment until his boss turned and started towards him. Eli looked away quickly as David swept by him and then looked back, watching until David reentered his office and shut the door behind him with a sharp click. Eli stared a moment longer before sighing softly and heading back to his desk.
Chapter 12
Hannah opened her eyes and sat up, not realizing she’d fallen asleep until she noticed the light from the high windows was brighter than before. She was still stiff and sore, but her head felt clearer, and she pushed to stand, bracing her hand on the wall for a moment before stepping off the mattress.
The concrete floor was cool under her feet as she moved carefully forward. She decided that she was, in fact, in a basement. It was rather small, and she stared around, studying the layout. Her mattress was pushed against the wall that ran parallel to the stairs, the end of it just to the left of the bottom step. The stairs themselves were wooden, the space underneath empty. There was a rusted, bulky heater attached to the wall at the head of the mattress, and a quick glance told her it probably hadn’t worked in years. A workbench stood against the wall opposite the mattress, and she stepped over to it, wondering if she could somehow use it to climb up to one of the windows, until she realized it was bolted to the floor. Closer inspection proved the windows were too small for her to get through anyway.
The workbench itself was completely devoid of tools, and she dropped to her knees to check underneath it, though she doubted there would be anything there.
Suspicions confirmed, she straightened painfully, regretting kneeling in the first place, and wandered over to stand underneath one of the windows. She placed her hands on the wall and rose on her toes to see what she could see, ignoring a sharp throb of pain on the bottom of her foot.
The sound of the basement door opening startled her, and she gasped as she turned, sinking abruptly down flat onto her feet and crying out when there was a sudden stabbing pain in her right heel. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, and another cry of pain escaped her when she landed hard on her hip. She fought back tears as she looked up at the man hurrying towards her, and when she shrank back, he immediately stopped and held up his hands.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quietly, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her. “I’ll leave if you want me to, but I’d like to fix up your foot, if you’ll let me.”
She stared at him, her heart beating hard against her ribs as she tried to size him up. He wasn’t the one who had grabbed her back at the house. She remembered struggling on the floor with the other one, who’d ordered this one to hold her arms. He’d done as instructed, though there had been a hint of reluctance on his face. She had noted that he was younger than the other man when she saw them back at the house, but now that she was looking right at him, he seemed even younger, maybe not much older than she was. He had somewhat shaggy brown hair, and light eyes, and his face bore the same reluctant, worried expression he’d had back at the house when they’d taken her.
The man hadn’t moved, his hands still in the air as he waited for her decision, and she finally nodded.
“Can I help you up?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards her.
She took a breath and nodded again, the pain in her foot and hip too much for her to stand on her own. He knelt beside her, slipping one arm carefully around her waist as she looped hers around his neck, and pulled her to her feet. He was so much taller than she was that her arm fell from his neck, and she might’ve dropped to the floor again if he hadn’t tightened his grip on her, holding her steady until her arm found its way around his waist.
They walked slowly to the mattress and he helped her settle back onto it before moving to retrieve the things he’d set on the stairs. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her, and after glancing up at her face, once again checking for confirmation that it was okay for him to touch her, he took her foot in his hands as he shifted closer.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress as she watched him warily, not quite trusting him yet, but his touch was gentle as he inspected her foot. She winced as he pulled the bandage off her heel, setting it aside and carefully letting her foot rest in his lap as he reached for the bottle of alcohol. She bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the mattress as she braced herself for the sting, but couldn’t stop the pained hiss that slipped out when he touched the alcohol soaked paper towel to the wound on her heel.
“Sorry,” he murmured, his eyebrows knitting together slightly as he glanced up at her. She noticed his eyes were hazel like hers, but lighter and greener. “You cut it during –” He broke off, his frown deepening. “Eddie bandaged it just enough so he wouldn’t get blood in the van. I just wanted to bandage it up properly.”
“Eddie?” Hannah said, latching on to the name.
“My brother. I’m Jackie,” he added, staring intently at her foot before setting the now slightly bloody paper towel aside. He reached for the new bandage, glancing up at her again as he tore the package open. “Um, what’s your name?”
Judging from the way his ears suddenly reddened as he ducked his head, she had a feeling he already knew her name, but decided to humor him. He was being nice to her, and she knew she should be nice back. It was better to stay calm and cooperate and see what happened. Crying and screaming and carrying on would be a waste of energy, and would likely just make them angry.
“I’m Hannah,” she said softly, wincing when Jackie affixed the clean bandage to her foot. He murmured a quiet apology, pressing lightly to make sure the bandage stuck, and then reached for the roll of gauze. He wrapped her foot just enough to keep the bandage in place and secured the end of the gauze before shifting back, carefully setting her foot on the mattress.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as he stood, gathering the alcohol and used bandage and paper towel in his hands.
“Yeah,” she replied as her stomach churned, suddenly reminding her she hadn’t
eaten anything since the sandwich she’d had for lunch the day before. “What time is it?”
“A little after one,” Jackie said, shifting the things in his hands. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Could I – could I maybe go to the bathroom?” Hannah asked hesitantly. She did have to go, but she also knew he’d have to take her out of the basement, and she wanted a chance to scope out what she could of the house.
“Yeah, sure,” he said quickly. “Just let me just get rid of this stuff.”
A few minutes later he was helping her up the stairs, her foot and hip throbbing in tandem. She knew there’d be a nice bruise on her hip later, if there wasn’t one already, judging from how much it hurt. She remembered the other man – Eddie, apparently – knocking her to the floor back at the house; she’d landed on the same hip.
Jackie pulled open the basement door, arm still around Hannah’s waist as they stepped into the hall. She could see the bathroom directly in front of her, right across the hall from the basement, but she turned her head to the left instead, catching a glimpse of the living room.
There was an old, beat up couch with a scuffed coffee table situated in front of it, and a TV on a stand positioned against the wall. The front door was just beyond the couch, torturously close, yet so far away.
The basement door clicked shut and Jackie guided Hannah forward, flipping on the bathroom light. She gripped the edge of the sink and he let her go, taking a step backward into the hallway.
“You don’t need any. . . help or anything, do you?” he asked, looking uncomfortable.
“No,” Hannah said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Jackie said, relieved. “Just open the door when you’re done.”
Hannah nodded and Jackie pulled the door shut. There wasn’t a lock on the door, but Hannah didn’t think Jackie was going to suddenly barge in on her, and she undid the fastenings of her jeans, easing them down to look at her hip. She grimaced at the large black bruise and passed her hand very lightly over it, wincing at even that brief pressure. She knew it would take weeks to fully heal, and she sighed as she moved to the toilet.
