Chapter 2: Forgery
Neal opened his eyes. He couldn't see anything. Panicked, he moved his head up off of the hard floor and proceeded to let it drop immediately back down again. He had a splitting headache. He lifted a shaky hand to the back of his head and ran his fingers through wet hair. He couldn't tell if it was blood or sweat covering his hands. He slowly and painfully pulled himself into a sitting position. Normally, the slick conman wouldn't be scared in this type of situation. He would get his bearings, form a plan, and execute. The only difference this time was that he couldn't assess the situation. He was blind. Where am I? What happened…Why can't I see anything? Oh gosh, why can't I see anything. He began to panic, and violently rubbed at his eyes in hopes that the next time he opened them he would be able to see. Repeatedly trying and failing miserably to regain his sight, he began to lose control of his thoughts. He sucked in deep breaths of air, unable to get enough to satisfy the burning sensation in his lungs. Sharp pains broke out across his chest and his deep breaths turned into shallow ones. He leaned his trembling shoulders up against a cold wall, gathered his knees up to his heaving chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around them. I sure hope Peter is looking for me right now. He stared into the pitch-black darkness until the pain in his head forced him to lay down and sleep.
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Peter was frantic. Though Jones and Diana believed that Neal had decided to run, Peter knew that he had been kidnapped. Neal telling Peter he was being followed and then disappearing the same night was no coincidence, and Peter knew it. He couldn't help but blame himself. If he had spent the day searching and investigating Neal's stalker rather than working on the petty, time consuming case that they had worked on instead, maybe Neal wouldn't be missing right now.
"Tell me again what he looked like." Peter looked at Mozzie, and then turned his eyes back to Neal's painting. His eyes scanned over the various colors and patterns. He hadn't ever gotten to see Neal's recreational paintings; he only ever saw the ones intended for cases. His work was almost more beautiful like this, in a way. It wasn't forced. It was for pleasure. Neal was a man of many talents, and Peter's jealousy tended to creep up on him from time to time.
"Suit, I've already told you. You really need to work on your listening skills." Mozzie glanced back at Peter, who didn't look the slightest bit amused. Reluctantly, he proceeded to re-state the follower's description. "He was very muscular, I'd say about 6'3 or 6'4. You wouldn't wanna mess with him. He had light hair and I'd say he was in his early to mid 40's." Mozzie sank down into a dining room chair, gulping down the remaining contents of his third glass of wine. He was worried about Neal.
Peter nodded in reply, ripped his eyes away from the painting and walked over to the door frame. He followed the pathway into the room and squatted down to get a closer look at the floor. He spotted a red droplet next to the door mat and realized it must be blood. "Hey, I think this is where Neal was taken! Looks like he didn't get the better end of the deal."
Back at the office, Peter had forensics run DNA tests, and the blood was confirmed as Neal's. Peter vowed to himself that he wouldn't rest until Neal was found. He would find his partner, no matter the cost.
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Neal awoke with a start. A banging sound had awakened him. He opened his swollen eyes and, once again, saw nothing but darkness. He attempted at a deep breath, and inched as far away as he could from the banging sound. Suddenly, the banging stopped and a blinding light filled the room. Neal almost let out a cry of relief as his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw a man walk into the room. He had never been blind to begin with; the room had just been dark. The joy of receiving his sight was short-lived, however, as the man stepped closer.
"Hello, Neal." The man's voice was so deep that it shook Neal to the core. He was tall, muscular, and most definitely the same person Mozzie had described a few days prior.
Neal squinted upward in attempts of getting a better look at him. "How do you know my name?" He inquired.
"Oh, I know a lot more about you than just your name, Caffrey. I've been following you for weeks. You're such an intelligent man, I thought you were gonna catch on much sooner than you did." The man chuckled to himself. "I saw your painting, by the way. Very nice."
"What do you want with me?" Neal was abrupt. He slowly rose to his feet. From a standing position, his eyes rested level at the man's collarbone. That's encouraging. Neal thought sarcastically to himself.
"You're gonna make me rich, Caffrey." He smiled. "You are going to forge a series of sculptures and paintings for me, and I am going to escape this god-forsaken town with millions of dollars."
Neal scoffed. "And if I refuse?"
"I've been watching your little bald friend…Mozzie, is it? I wouldn't want to see him get hurt just because you refused to do some arts and crafts." The man looked into Neal's eyes, staring him down.
Neal stared back. "I guess we have a deal, then."
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~REVIEWS PLEASE thanks everyone for reading. Let me know if you want more! Your encouragement will keep me motivated!~
