I have heard the echoes in the dark
Dim and distant voices of the past
And I've seen so far into the night
And lingered in the land of no light

--Uriah Heep

Chapter 1

Oh, no. We're too late.

Chris stepped over the body sprawled across the threshold, barely noticing the blood that squished beneath his boot. He kicked a Glock away from the limp hand, unable to tear his eyes from the slumped figure tied to a folding chair in the center of the room. Blood-matted hair hung like a curtain, obscuring the face, but the filthy flannel shirt and well-worn jeans were achingly familiar. Dear God, Vin. What did they do to you?

"Clear." Buck strode out of the bedroom, tucking his weapon into the waistband of his pants as he crouched beside the chair and touched two fingers to Vin's neck. All the breath seemed to rush from his lungs, and he looked up at Chris with glistening eyes. "He's alive!"

When Chris remained frozen, he frowned. "You hear me, Pard?"

It got Chris moving on wobbly legs. He knelt opposite Buck, who had pulled a knife from his boot and was sawing through the plastic ties binding Vin's bare feet. Chris brushed aside tangled curls, wincing at the blackened eye, split lip, and livid bruise across Vin's cheek.

"Vin? Hey, cowboy, it's Chris. Can you open your eyes for me?" He tipped up Vin's face, cradling his chin, but his friend didn't respond.

"Shit!" Buck hissed from where he'd moved to free Vin's hands.

"What?"

"Damn restraints are embedded in his skin." Buck's voice wavered. "I nicked his left wrist. Get ready, I've almost--there."

Chris caught Vin as he sagged bonelessly against his chest. "Get Nathan and those EMTs in here. Now." He eased his friend to the floor, not liking the shallow, uneven sound of his breathing.

Controlled chaos drifted in from the hallway--hurried footsteps, slamming doors, shouted commands, and over it all, Buck's rich baritone bellowing for Nathan. Chris knelt on the dusty floor, hands clenched into fists, his compulsion to touch warring with his fear of causing Vin's battered body more pain.

"Damn, Cowboy, you're a mess," he murmured, his eyes stinging and his throat tight. "A bullet's too good for these bastards."

Nathan burst into the room, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders as he knelt at Vin's side. "Paramedics are on their way in. How is he?"

"How the hell does he look?" Chris snapped the words, frustration and anger bubbling over before he could rein them in. "Sorry."

But Nathan, preoccupied with Vin, seemed not to notice. "Broken ribs, multiple fractures to his fingers," he muttered, more to himself than to Chris. Frowning at the blood trail down Vin's neck, he pulled out a penlight. Even Chris could see Vin's left pupil was sluggish.

"Nathan?"

"At the least a damn severe concussion. But it could be a skull fracture."

The EMTs appeared in the doorway, laden down with equipment and a gurney. "Don't bother, that one's dead," Chris growled when one knelt beside the body. He crossed the room in three quick strides, grasped the kidnapper's arms and hauled him out of the way.

Nathan was already spouting information on Vin's condition, and his voice held a sharp urgency that made Chris's stomach do a slow roll. He glared into the glassy eyes of the man who'd tortured his best friend. "Why? Who are you, and what did you want?"

"Chris." Buck stepped into the room, followed closely by Ezra and Jim Spencer, Team 5's leader. "We got everything locked down."

"Donovan?"

Spencer set his mouth in a harsh line. "No sign of him."

Chris toed the body. "What about his associates?" he asked Buck.

"Two at the back door and another in the stairwell."

"Alive?"

Buck shook his head. "Whoever they are, they weren't about to be brought in for questioning."

"Shit."

"What about Tanner?" Spencer gestured over Chris's shoulder to where the paramedics were barking instructions and juggling equipment. Nathan and Ezra stood nearby in grim silence.

"He's in bad shape. Bastards really worked him over."

"How soon do you think we'll be able to talk to him?"

"Jim, he's not even conscious, he--" Chris broke off, stunned, when Spencer turned and headed for Nathan.

Buck cleared his throat. "Cut him some slack, Chris, you know you'd--"

Chris gritted his teeth and followed, shrugging off Buck's restraining hand on his arm.

"...make a guess," he heard Spencer saying.

Nathan was shaking his head. "There's no way to predict that until we know the extent of his injuries."

"Isn't there anything they can do to speed things up? I need to talk to him."

"No one's questioning him until a doctor clears it," Chris said.

Spencer rounded on him. "I've got a man out there somewhere, in God knows what condition! Tanner may be the only one who can help us find him."

The anguish in his voice defused Chris's anger. How hard would he be pushing if Vin were the one still missing?

"We're going to do everything we can to find Donovan; you have my word. But, Jim--look at him." He waited for Spencer to see--really see--Vin. "Right now he can't help anyone," he said quietly.

Spencer's shoulders slumped. "Keep me posted?"

"You know I will."

"I'll oversee the mop up. I'm sure you want to head to the hospital."

"Thanks."

Spencer paused in the doorway. "Chris..."

"We'll find him, Jim."

Chris turned to Buck once Spencer had gone. "Round up J.D. and get him back to the office. We've got to figure out who these guys are and, more importantly, who they were working for, because I don't for a moment believe they masterminded this operation. We also need to check if any of our old friends are out on parole. If some bastard is out for revenge--"

"I fear what happened to Mr. Tanner may involve something far more insidious than retaliation," Ezra said, his attention fixed on the frenetic activity surrounding Vin.

"What do you mean?" Chris demanded.

"Perhaps in your concern over his more obvious injuries you failed to notice his feet."

"His feet?" Chris stared blankly at Standish, then Nathan, who tightened his lips and avoided Chris's eyes. "Will one of you please spit it out?"

Ezra finally looked at him. "These cretins evidently decided Vin required their warped version of a pedicure." His voice vibrated with repressed fury. "He seems to be missing several toenails."

The headache that had been throbbing insistently at the back of Chris's skull flared to life and his gut burned. "You think they were after information?"

Nathan sighed. "It's a good possibility, Chris. He's got a fair number of injuries--the broken fingers, some cuts an' cigarette burns--that cause a lot of pain without permanent damage. And I'm pretty damn sure the bruises on the inside of his right arm are from injections."

"Son of a bitch," Buck snarled.

Chris ran a hand through his hair, the rage he'd felt earlier returning with a vengeance. "Buck, tell J.D.--"

"Got it covered, Chris."

"Concentrate on our open cases, especially the last bust, before you start digging through the files. Ezra--"

"I shall lend Mr. Dunne my full support."

"All right, get going. We've got a missing man whose time is running out."

Ezra touched two fingers to his brow and headed out the door, but Buck lingered, his gaze flickering between Vin and Chris. "Our butts might be in the office but our hearts are with Vin. You call us as soon as you hear something--anything."

"Count on it."

The paramedics had Vin on the gurney and were wheeling him toward the door. The older of the two, who appeared to be in charge, waved his partner onward and stopped to talk to Chris and Nathan.

"We're taking him to Mercy," he told them. "The docs in the ER are standing by."

"How's he doing?" Chris asked.

"Stable--for now." Chris opened his mouth to demand more information, but the paramedic was already moving. "We'll take good care of him," he called over his shoulder.

Chris growled his frustration but Nathan laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Chris. We'll be right behind them."

Chris rubbed the ache at the base of his neck. "That's where we've been for the last three days--behind. I've gotta tell you, Nathan--I'm damned tired of it."

"Chris..."

"Forget it." He waved off Nathan's comforting words, in no mood to hear them. "Let's ride."

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

If God really did exist--and the jury was still out on that one--He must enjoy screwing with Chris Larabee's head. Chris sat hunched over, clasped hands dangling between his knees, and wondered how the hell he ended up spending so much time in a place he hated more than just about anywhere else.

He could swear he heard God chuckling.

Three days of too little sleep and too much coffee left his stomach burning and his nerves thrumming. Torn between his obligations as team leader and those as Vin's friend, right now he felt hopelessly inadequate at both. There was work to be done--Sean Donovan was missing, and every tick of the clock lowered his chances of being found alive. He should probably be back at the office, briefing Travis, overseeing the continuing investigation, not to mention pacifying Spencer. There was nothing he could do here but wait.

But he'd be damned if he was going anywhere.

A red and white carton appeared in front of Chris's face. He leaned back slowly, quirking one eyebrow. "That supposed to be for me?"

Nathan pressed the milk into Chris's hand. "You see anyone else around here?"

"I asked for coffee."

"Ain't no way I'm contributing to that ulcer you been workin' on."

"You're over-reacting."

"And you're in denial. You think I haven't seen you popping antacids like they're candy? Looks to me like you got enough heartburn to light up Las Vegas."

"It's not that bad," Chris said, but he opened the carton and took a swig.

"Right. Well if you got half the sense God gave you, you'll drink all of that and start cutting back on the coffee and booze." Nathan sank into the chair beside him with a weary grunt.

Chris downed half the carton, grimacing. "What's taking so long anyway?"

"Last I heard they were setting his fingers while the neurologist looked over the CT scan. We should--"

But Chris was on his feet and striding toward the doctor who'd stepped through the swinging doors and was scanning the room.

"Mr. Larabee?"

"I'm Chris Larabee."

The doc shook his hand. "Nick Lorenzo; I've been taking care of Agent Tanner."

"You're the neurologist?" You've got to be kidding. Chris shook the doctor's hand, not even trying to hide his skepticism. Lorenzo looked about the same age as Vin. He sported a garish Hawaiian shirt under his white lab coat, shoulder-length dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and an earring in his left ear.

Lorenzo just grinned. "Hard to believe, isn't it?" He flipped open the chart in his hands, instantly all business. "Despite the extent of the injuries inflicted upon Agent Tanner, the blow to his head is the only one we're really concerned about. Now, the good news is that he didn't sustain a skull fracture and there doesn't seem to be any intercranial bleeding."

"Thank God," Nathan murmured.

"This is Nathan Jackson, another of Vin's teammates," Chris answered Lorenzo's inquiring look. "He's been trained as an EMT."

"From the buzz I've heard about your team, sounds like you need him."

Chris narrowed his eyes, but Lorenzo plowed ahead before he could comment.

"The bad news is that your friend's got a grade 3 concussion which, as I'm sure Mr. Jackson can tell you, is nothing to mess around with. We've got him in the ICU, for now, and we're going to be monitoring him very closely."

"But he'll be all right," Chris pressed.

"Barring complications, yes, he'll make a full recovery. But he's had his bell thoroughly rung, Mr. Larabee. This isn't something he's going to shake off in a few days."

Chris exchanged a long look with Nathan. "Doc, we've got an agent still missing. Vin may have information on his whereabouts."

Lorenzo shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I wouldn't get my hopes up. He's going to be extremely sick and disoriented when he regains consciousness."

Though Nathan had already given him a similar warning, Chris had to bite back a surge of disappointment. "I'm going to want one of my men with him at all times."

"We have rules in the ICU, Mr. Larabee--"

"We have rules in the ATF too, Dr. Lorenzo, and one of them is that we don't abandon a teammate who's been abducted and tortured. Not for any reason." Chris's tone was sharper than he'd intended, but he was too tired and frustrated to care.

"Easy, Chris," Nathan murmured, but Lorenzo held up a hand.

"You didn't let me finish. As I was about to say, we have rules, but hard as it might be to believe, I'm not exactly the poster boy for following them. I can't begin to imagine what your friend has suffered over the past few days. There's no way I'm going to deny him his support system."

Chris inclined his head. "Thank you."

The easy grin slid off Lorenzo's face and Chris abruptly found himself on the other end of one of his own threatening glares. "But if I find you or any of your men are pushing him beyond his capabilities, I'll have your asses on the curb before you can say 'Doogie Howser.' Am I clear?"

He should probably be pissed off by the suggestion that he'd jeopardize Vin's health, but Chris found his lips curving with a hint of amusement as he nodded.

Lorenzo's cocky smile returned. "Good. ICU is up on the fourth floor--but I guess you gentlemen already know that. I'll be by to check on him in a bit."

Chris responded with the shark's grin that sent most men into a cold sweat. "I'll look forward to it."

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. "All right then. The elevators are that way." He stuck the chart under his arm and gestured, his posture wary.

"Not nice," Nathan said as Chris punched the 'up' button, but there was laughter in his voice. "Poor kid's got no idea you actually like him."

Chris stepped into the empty car with a poorly concealed smirk. "Let's go see Vin."

Continued in Chapter 2