Lee had been captive for almost a week now. That was according to his calculations . . . he wasn't quite sure how long he had been unconscious after the goons had jumped him as he was leaving his apartment building. At least they hadn't tortured him—yet. He just wished he knew exactly what they wanted.
They were definitely Russian. While they were careful not to speak in his presence, he could still hear bits and pieces of their conversations in the next room. As far as he could tell, they were trying to negotiate a ransom for him, but he was unsure who they were negotiating with. If it was the Agency, he knew his chances were slim to none; then again if it was some other foreign government, his chances weren't much better. His best chance was to escape before they tried to trade him, but he had yet to figure out how. While he wasn't tied up, the room he was in had no windows and only one door . . . a door that was devoid of hardware and locked from the outside. There was a small slit in it, about half-way up, through which his food tray was delivered once a day. There were always two when they came to collect the tray, and one had a gun trained on him the entire time.
They must have searched him thoroughly when he was unconscious earlier. Of course his gun, Agency ID, and wallet were missing, but so was the lock pick he always had secreted in his collar stay—not that it would have done him any good as there were no locks to pick. Leatherneck had recently outfitted the heel of his shoe with a small hidden blade, but that had apparently been discovered, too.
That's why he had been so surprised, a few days into his captivity, to realize that the picture he carried of his wife was still in his inside jacket pocket. He carried it there to keep it close to his heart—and away from prying eyes. Emily had taken it at the last embassy party they had all attended and sent a copy of it to him in a thank you note. Of course she had told him to pass it along to Amanda, but he had decided to be just a tad selfish and keep it for himself. Maybe Emily had realized that would happen, as she very easily could have sent it directly to Amanda. He wasn't sure of much these days, but he was fairly certain that Emily knew he loved his beautiful partner.
Maybe his captors had simply overlooked that particular pocket. Or maybe they had decided to let him keep the picture as a reminder of all he was missing. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances. He had quickly tucked it under the thin mattress of his cot, taking it out only when he was certain the goons weren't anywhere around to see. He knew Amanda was waiting for him to come home. He wondered if she was giving Billy as hard a time as he had when Birol had kidnapped her. Hell, he didn't need to wonder; she was probably leading the search and driving Billy, Francine, and everyone else crazy. But then that was his Amanda.
Since he had admitted his feelings to her that day in the Q Bureau, he had never felt alone. Even now, as his hope faded with each passing hour, he could almost hear her telling him to hang on. Looking at that picture was like a salve to his wounded heart . . . his lifeline to reality. "Wait Amanda . . . wait for me to come home," he whispered to himself over and over again as the hours and days passed.
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"Sir, any news?" Amanda questioned as she entered Billy's office. It had been a week since Lee had simply disappeared without a trace. There were rumors that the Chinese were negotiating with the Russians over something, but no solid leads. The rumors could be about Lee, but then again they could be talking about trading some vodka for green tea for all anyone knew.
"Nothing we haven't heard before," he responded. "Amanda, you look positively worn out. You need to take care of yourself, too, you know. If anything happens to you, Scarecrow will have my head. When was the last time you slept . . . or had a decent meal for that matter?"
"I'm fine, sir. You know I can't stop looking for Lee. He would do the same for me. Sorry . . . he has done the same for me."
"And I've had the same argument with him about taking care of himself, you know.
"Did it do any good?" she questioned as she shot her boss a knowing look.
"No," Billy sighed, "it didn't. You and Lee are definitely two-of-a-kind . . . But seriously, you need to slow down a little. You know we have the entire intelligence community out there looking."
"I know, Sir, but . . . " she responded as she fingered the chain she wore around her neck . . . the chain that secreted her engagement and wedding rings as well as a locket she had begun to wear right after Lee's disappearance. The locket had been a gift from her father when she had turned 16. She had kept a picture of her parents in it, then later Joe. Even later, it had been a photo of the boys. It now held one of the few pictures she owned of her husband. Being a 'spy,' he was naturally camera shy. This photo had been taken by Jaime one evening last month when Lee was helping her with the dishes. She wasn't even sure if he had been aware of the camera in his stepson's hands as he was up to his elbows in dishwater. But she had heard the quiet click of the shutter and vowed to grab the print when the film was developed. Jaime had done a spectacular job of capturing her husband in an unguarded moment—smile and dimples in full view.
"Go home, Amanda," Billy softly interrupted her reminiscing. "You know you'll be the first number I dial if there's any news. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me . . . please?"
"Actually, I think I will, sir. But I'm going to stop at Lee's apartment first. I know the freshman agents and I went over it a few days ago, but I just want to double-check that no possible clues were missed."
"That's fine, just don't stay too long. You need to get some serious sleep." He knew she had already gone over the apartment, hallway, elevator, lobby, and parking lot. Surely any possible clues had already been found. But he also knew that she probably just wanted to be near anything that reminded her of Lee. It was increasingly apparent that they were more than just partners . . . more even than just good friends. If he had any doubts, they had been squashed when she had been shot in California. The events of the past week had laid them totally to rest.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." She quietly made her way through the bullpen, trying to avoid the sympathetic looks of her fellow agents. While they meant well, acknowledging their looks felt like she was giving up hope. And giving up hope was something that she just wasn't ready to do.
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As she opened the door to their apartment, she finally gave in to the tears that had been threatening all day. It wasn't that she hadn't cried before, but after the first two days it seemed that her tears had all been shed. Apparently she had been mistaken.
She claimed Lee's pillow and his wedding ring from the bedroom and went to sit on the couch—one hand clutching the pillow tightly to her chest, the other pulling her rings and locket from their hiding place. Fumbling with the clasp, she finally managed to open it, exchanging Lee's ring for her two rings and the locket on the chain. After replacing the chain around her neck, she slipped her rings onto the third finger of her left hand where they belonged. She then proceeded to simply rock back and forth, almost in a catatonic state—beyond caring if the pillow became soaked with her tears . . . her resolve dwindling with each passing minute.
She finally ended up curled on the sofa, her open locket in her hand. As she stared at her handsome husband's picture, she slowly drifted off to sleep, her exhaustion complete-her dreams filled with images of Lee.
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Lee knew things were about to happen. What those things were, however, he could only guess. All he knew was that his captors were becoming increasingly agitated. The voices in the next room were frequently loud and argumentative. For the past few days his food tray was roughly shoved through the opening, and several days of dirty dishes remained in his room. Apparently the goons were too busy arguing to come collect them. At least he was still getting fed, although the offerings were getting smaller and more disgusting as time went on.
He could hear at least three voices in the adjoining room, so he figured it was safe to pull out his wife's picture. She looked simply stunning that evening in her burgundy gown with her hair pulled up in a French twist . . . little tendrils slipping out to frame her face and kiss the nape of her neck. What had he ever done to deserve such a goddess? Damn if he knew!
He did know that his situation was getting worse by the day, but that wasn't his main concern. His main thought right now was how worried she must be. Hold on, Amanda, hold on. If he could only figure out a way to escape!
As he began to drift off to sleep, he gently kissed the picture and held it to his chest—close to his heart. Sleep overcame him, a smile on his face despite his dire circumstances. Images of Amanda haunted his dreams, but it was a pleasant haunting.
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Something suddenly set Lee's senses on alert. He thought he heard someone at the door, but it wasn't time for his daily delivery of food. No one had entered the room, either. Come to think of it, it was awfully quiet; he didn't even hear anyone in the next room arguing.
As he sat up, he slowly realized that the lack of food was beginning to take its toll; he was definitely weak. But not weak enough to give up, of that he was certain. For some reason, it almost felt like he had a chance of fighting his way out of this hell hole. Now if only one of the bad guys would come into the room. He quickly slipped Amanda's picture into the pocket of his jeans and quietly waited.
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At the same time, Amanda was jolted out of a deep sleep and sat upright, looking around in a daze. Just what had woken her up? Somehow she seemed to know, deep down, that there had been a break in the case. She and Lee had always had a seemingly mysterious psychic connection. Unclasping the chain around her neck yet again, she replaced the locket and let it nestle close to her heart next to Lee's wedding ring.
Just as she was reaching for the phone to call the Agency, it rang.
"Stetson residence," she answered tentatively.
"Amanda, is that you?" questioned Billy on the other end. "I tried your house, but when I didn't get an answer there, I decided to try here."
"Ah . . . sorry Sir . . . I kind of fell asleep on Lee's couch. Mother and the boys are away camping with the Junior Trailblazers, and . . . well . . . "
"Amanda, I understand. As long as you got some sleep."
"Yes, Sir, I did. But I'm sure you're not just calling to check up on me. Has there been a break in the case?" Her voice was hopeful at last.
"Well, the best answer I can give to that is maybe. A trio of low-level Soviet thugs were spotted an hour ago leaving an apartment building just a block from where you are right now. They seemed to be arguing rather intently about something, but we couldn't determine the cause of the disagreement. In fact the only reason we spotted them at all was that I had ordered an hourly sweep of the neighborhood around Lee's place . . . guess I just couldn't help thinking that we were missing something right under our noses. Francine and I are headed there now. We'll pick you up outside Lee's apartment building in ten minutes?"
"I'll be waiting, Sir. And thank you for calling me . . . I just hope we can actually find something."
"You and me both, Amanda . . . you and me both."
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Meanwhile, Lee was getting impatient. He was tired of being held against his will . . . and he was tired of missing his wife. Listening at the door, he couldn't hear a sound. So much for his captors coming back soon, he thought. Frustrated, he pounded his fist against the door, only to have it swing open on its own. Just what was going on?
He cautiously stuck his head out and looked around. It appeared he was in a basement somewhere. There were several rooms leading off of a central hall, with what looked like a door to a stairwell at the opposite end. Hoping his captors were either gone or otherwise occupied, he began a slow, stealthy walk down the corridor.
When he reached the opposite end, he tentatively peeked through the small window in the door to the stairwell. No one visible, at least. He slowly opened the door-its hinges protesting with a loud squeak. Well, if anyone was around, they would certainly come investigate now. But he remained the sole occupant of the hall.
Deciding to push his luck farther, he headed up the stairs. At the next landing, he again looked through the small window in the door, then poked his head out into the hall. Daylight! It now appeared he was on the first floor of an apartment building; he could read the apartment numbers on the doors. Was that a small lobby at the far end of the hall?
Freedom was so close . . . all he had to do was traverse the remaining hallway. Could it really be that easy?
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Billy pulled over to the curb, and Amanda quickly slid into the back seat behind Francine.
"Sir, any further information?" she quickly asked.
"Nothing yet. We had a tail on the Russians, but they managed to give us the slip. Here we are," he said as he parked the Agency car in front of a large apartment building just a block away.
As they began to exit the car, Francine detected a figure at the door of the building. Not wanting this to turn into a shootout with the bad guys, she quietly signaled for Billy and Amanda to get behind the car. All three waited . . . Billy and Francine with guns drawn.
The mysterious figure slowly opened the door of the building, cautiously poking his head around the door to check his surroundings. Were his eyes deceiving him? Was that his apartment building only a block away? Damn! And just where were his captors?
Suddenly he heard the quiet "snick" of a gun being cocked nearby. He slowly exited through the door with his hands raised . . . he just hoped whoever was out there didn't have an itchy trigger finger.
He wasn't more than halfway out when he heard a familiar belly laugh.
"Put the gun away, Francine," Billy finally managed to say. "I don't think this one poses any threat."
Almost before Lee's brain had chance to register the fact that the cavalry was here, he was blindsided by his wife. She clung to him—arms flung around his neck, face buried in his chest, sobs racking her entire body. He quickly engulfed her in a bear hug of his own . . . his senses on overload from finally having her in his arms after such a harrowing week.
"Billy, you might want to check out the basement. I think the thugs are gone, but . . . " he whispered over Amanda's head.
"Lee, why don't you two wait in the car? Let's go, Francine" said Billy as he slowly opened the door Lee had so recently exited and disappeared into the building.
Amanda refused to let go of him; he literally had to pick her up to get her to the relative safety of Billy's car. "Amanda, honey . . . you're going to have to let go so I can open the door. It might also be a good idea for me to retrieve the extra gun from the glove box . . . just in case."
She merely nodded and slowly moved away to allow him to help her into the vehicle. Once they were both inside and Lee had the gun, she climbed into his lap and clung to him. As he once again wrapped his arms around her, he gently tilted her head up to give her a passionate kiss. Neither one seemed to want to break the physical contact that had been absent for so long!
Amanda's sobs quickly turned into hiccups as she fought to get her emotions under control. She reached up to wipe a tear from Lee's cheek, too.
"How? Why?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know. Hopefully Billy and Francine find something. But I'm just glad it's over," he ended with a sigh.
They both continued to cling to each other; neither one was willing to break the contact.
"Well, isn't this cozy," snipped Francine as she opened the car door. "It almost looks like . . . never mind, it's apparently exactly what it looks like," she said sarcastically as she pointed to the rings prominently displayed on Amanda's third finger.
Amanda blushed from her seat on Lee's lap. Lee groaned, then proceeded to address Billy, who was slowly getting behind the wheel.
"What did you find?" Lee inquired.
"Nothing, really. There's a room next to where you were held that appears to have been their headquarters, but everything has been removed. I'll get a team down here, but I doubt they'll find anything useful. Is there something you two want to tell me?" he questioned innocently as he gestured toward Amanda's left hand.
Amanda quickly unclasped the chain and handed Lee his matching wedding ring—which he quickly placed on his finger.
"Not particularly," Lee grinned in response.
"Alright then . . . Francine, please call for a forensic team. Maybe they can find something we overlooked. Francine . . . Francine?"
Francine just sat there, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. All she could manage to utter was "but . . . but . . . but . . . " as she pointed to both their wedding rings.
"Francine, did you hear me? Call for a forensic team, please. I want answers as soon as possible."
She slowly shook her head, then her entire body . . . like she was waking up from a bad dream. "Right," she finally replied as she picked up the car phone.
"How about I drop you both at the apartment? I'm sure you could use a quick shower and a change of clothes, Scarecrow. Since you just left there a few minutes ago, Amanda, I'm going to assume it's safe—take the spare gun, just in case though. How about we meet in my office in, say, two hours, for debriefing?"
"Could we make it three hours, Billy? I haven't had more than stale bread and cold soup in a week; I'd kind of like to get something decent in my stomach before I have to face all the questions." He looked at Billy, then made it a point to look at the wedding rings on both their hands.
"Three it is. And we won't say a word to anyone, will we Francine?" he said with a pointed look at his assistant.
"Why whatever are you talking about, Billy?" she said with a wink. "Oh, by the way, there's a team on its way now. They should be here in about ten minutes."
"Alright . . . Francine—stay here and make sure no one disturbs the site. You can help the forensics team then hitch a ride back with one of them. I'll drop the Stetsons in the next block. We'll all rendezvous in my office in three hours."
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As they entered the apartment, Lee noticed the pillow on his sofa. He could figure why it was there and knew it was probably still damp from her tears.
"Look," he said as he tilted her chin up to look in her eyes ". . . why don't I hop in the shower and get some of this dirt and smell off, okay? Honey . . . you have to let go . . . Sweetheart . . . " he pleaded.
"I'm sorry," she said as she continued to cling to him. "It's just that I was so scared. A week with no word . . . not even a clue. I was so worried. Thank goodness Mother and the boys left three days ago for a camping trip; I think Mother was on the verge of having me committed. And, of course, I couldn't tell her what was wrong, although she realized she hadn't seen you for a few days, so she might have figured it had something to do with you. But then I couldn't sleep, and I'm sure I haven't eaten much more than you. Mr. Melrose kept telling me to go home, you know, but I just couldn't bear to go to that empty house. Of course, the empty apartment wasn't much better, but at least I felt closer to you here. I think I understand why you went to see my mother when Birol had me. I finally just came here a few hours ago . . . "
He finally managed to silence the Amanda ramble with a searing kiss. "I know. I was worried about you, too."
"But you were the one being held hostage!"
"Yes, but they weren't really harming me, just keeping me in the room. I knew you must have been worried sick. I kept muttering 'wait for me . . . wait for me.' That, and I kept looking at this picture." He pulled the well-worn photo from the pocket of his jeans.
"I know what you mean," she said as she pulled the locket out of its hiding place and opened it to his picture.
"Look, I really do need to shower. Are you going to be okay?"
"I think so . . . and you're right . . . you do kind of smell." She wrinkled her nose.
With a kiss to that cute nose, he headed toward the bathroom.
Thinking quickly, she remembered that she had stashed some of her famous chili in the freezer a few weeks ago figuring it would make an easy, quick meal some evening. She retrieved it and set it to defrost in the microwave.
Hearing the water start in the shower, she picked up Lee's pillow and headed to the bedroom where she carefully changed the case and placed it under the comforter where it belonged. Looking around, she picked up Lee's discarded clothes, dropping them in the hamper in the closet.
Surveying the room, she realized that everything seemed to be in its place. The microwave was still working its magic. Magic . . . magic fingers . . . following that train of thought could get her into trouble . . . or . . .
She quickly peeled off her clothes and quietly slipped into the bathroom to join her handsome husband.
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"Welcome back, Mr. Stetson," Mrs. Marsten said as she handed them their badges a few hours later in the Georgetown foyer.
"Thank you, Mrs. Marsten. It's good to be back. If anyone is looking for either of us, we'll be with Mr. Melrose for our debriefing."
He took both their badges then headed for the closet elevator, his hand at the small of his wife's back.
His hand stayed at its customary place until they were both seated in front of Billy's desk. Once Billy closed his door and drew the blinds, it found his wife's hand and held on—each drawing strength from the other for the debriefing and interrogation to come.
When Francine entered, she glanced at their clasped hands, rolled her eyes, and took a seat on the couch. She still couldn't believe they were married. Scarecrow and a housewife? Of course she knew that Amanda was becoming an excellent agent, but still! And, of course, she would never admit that to anyone . . . least of all Amanda!
"Francine, what did the forensic team find?" Billy questioned.
"Not much . . . but we did recover several fingerprints. We're running them now. Otherwise, everything was cleared out. Even though it appeared they left in somewhat of a hurry, they were thorough."
"Lee, can you tell me anything else? Would you be able to identify them from mug shots, if necessary?"
"I think so . . . my opinion is they're just low-level Russian thugs, so I'll start there. They knew they had someone from the intelligence community, but they had no idea who. I heard them arguing for the past few days about what to do with me. I couldn't make out every word, but I think they were trying to sell me to the Chinese."
"Ok . . . makes sense with what we heard from the rumor mill. Luckily they couldn't make up their mind. And luckily they had no idea what Scarecrow looks like."
"Amen to that," added Amanda.
"Or what Mrs. Scarecrow looks like," chuckled Billy.
"Well, while we might never figure out who took me or why, I am glad they did."
At that statement, Billy, Francine, and Amanda just stared at him.
"Sweetheart, what on earth are you talking about?" Amanda asked.
"Oh, I'm truly sorry for what they put us through, but I'm not sorry for the results. Think about it, Amanda! We're sitting in Billy's office. Francine is here. You just called me Sweetheart. Billy's making jokes about Mrs. Scarecrow. And we're wearing our wedding rings somewhere outside of the apartment. If we ever do find those Russian thugs, I think I'll buy them a drink. No more hiding our love . . . or our marriage."
"You're absolutely right," Amanda said with love in her eyes. "In fact if Mr. Melrose is finished with us here, I think we should head to the house so we can stop hiding our love from Mother."
With a wink to Francine and Billy, she turned and headed out to the bullpen, leaving Lee to stare after her.
"I've met Mrs. West, remember. Have fun with that," Billy laughed as he put his hand on Lee's shoulder.
"Ah hell . . . "