A/N: Something in this chapter y'all have been begging to know since I started writing this story. (Part One that is.) Hope it satisfies.
Chapter Two: Alone
Sometimes I hear you calling
From some lost and distant shore
I hear you crying softly for the way it was before
~ Hymn for the Missing by Red
Gideon turned slowly to gaze at me, as if I had just broken another trust of his. "What do you mean," he asked, his words low and slow.
I should keep my mouth shut, focus on her, but he needed to know. There is information in this world that everyone needs to have, should have, might have, might need, don't need, can't use, and will never know. This information is not for everyone. It's not truly important to most, but, it was important to her. Important that no one knew, though it is apparent that some outside the circle did know.
"You've gone over her companies," I stated. He nodded though it wasn't a question. "She has businesses that she is a silent, and invisible partner in.
"Invisible?" I nodded. "What do you mean, invisible?"
When he asked, his stress on the word was in a way that made me pause. I wasn't certain what he meant, so I explained, trying to gently offer him what I knew without pressing on whatever nerve I had just tapped on.
"She created World Securities International," I said, my breath low and steady. I could see his mind working, as if pulling up information in his brain. "I can't explain everything. Not here, not right now, but I will. She sold it, but as part of the deal, she remained as a 50% unknown owner."
"That's not possible. Even the sale had to be tracked, money, taxes..." He stood straighter, looked back at the throng of media and gave me one, sharp nod. "Later."
A new commotion arose as a man approached the Detective, surrounded by three more. Though he was considered a "little person" there was no mistaking the height of the man. His personality alone lets you know that in his mind, consciously or not, he considers himself to be six foot three and 250 lbs of hulking muscle. A man you neither differ to, ignore, doubt or question. Instead, he stands just shy of four and a half feet tall, close cropped dark hair, grey eyes and a hot/cold manner that switches without notice. He is a man you neither defer to, ignore, doubt or question.
We walk towards him as him as he explains to the Detectives (there are three now, since Gideon spoke to the press) about the attack at Headquarters and it's relation, or part of it's relationship, to Shana. The Detectives all take notes and then excuse Welch. He stepped aside as the Detectives turn to us.
"Mr. Cross, you and your people are free to leave the area now. We have all your statements, and will let you know as soon as we know anything. For now, it would be best if you went home." The words were spoken as though they had been spoken a thousand times, which they probably had. Gideon stood there, time having slipped as it took longer for the words to leave the Detective's mouth, travel the distance to Gideon's ears and be processed by his brain.
"Leave? Go home? But... Shana..." His persona's armor slipped, and I watched as he struggled to replace it. I knew how he felt. Being here, where she was, meant we were closer to her, that maybe, just maybe we were wrong and she will come walking around the corner with a smirk on her lips, that glint of mischief in her eye, wondering what the hell we were doing. She's fine. She's safe. There was no need to worry about her what so ever.
Except she isn't here.
"The Detective is right, G. It doesn't feel right to leave here, but all the right people are working on this." He looked at me, vacant a moment. I had to get him home. "We'll find her. She'll come home. Her family is on their way and we will need to meet them," I said at last, grasping at straws. He needs something to do, to be in control of, even if it's minute. That last one worked.
He stood straighter, readjusting the weight on his shoulders and nodded at looked at his watch and muttered, making me look at mine. Four hours. She's been missing for four hours already.
We turned to leave, finding Welch and his trio behind us. "Gideon Cross, this is Jerry Welch." The two men shook hands, and to some, seeing the two men might seem odd, but the power the two radiated seemed to put them on even ground.
"It's good to meet you, though I wish it were under different circumstances," Gideon said. He was becoming himself again, his strength easing back into his skin.
"Agreed. I am sorry for this. This should never have happened. I want you to know we are going to get her back." I nodded as he spoke. He cares for Shana more then most would assume, and she has always seemed to care for him like family. I can see, in the subtle ways of his, that her disappearance and the shut down of Headquarters has set a raging fire in him. "Mr. Cross, Taylor, we must talk. but we cannot do it here."
"Yes, we were just given leave to go. We can meet at my place. Her family," he said, looking at me, and I paused. I know what he is thnking. He wants to meet them at the airport, but he doesn't want to leave the house.
"If you want to meet them, we'll take a team to go with you. We can leave someone at the apartments in case they call," Welch suggested and I agreed.
"Good, yes... I rode my bike," he muttered again, becoming distracted again.
"I'll have someone take it back for you. If you don't mind, I would prefer if neither you nor Taylor drove for a few hours." Welch looked at me, and I gave him a half nod in understanding. He was right. We were both too distracted to keep our attentions on the road, especially in New York.
We walked to a black SUV Welch arrived in, ignoring the calls and questions from the media. Gideon paused before stepping in, looking around once more, in hopes that he would see her. I know that was why he did it, because I couldn't stop myself from doing the same thing.
The drive was silent and cold. No one looked at each other, no one made a move to try to crack the silent air that hung between us. I glanced at Gideon whose eyes were pointed at the window, but he wasn't looking out it. I could tell he was lost. I felt the same way.
I felt the vehicle shudder to a stop and realized we had just parked in the garage in Gideon's building. I was so lost in the silence that I didn't even notice us arrive at our destination. Gideon hadn't either, but he also hadn't realized we were waiting for him to exit the vehicle.
"Gideon, we're here." I placed a hand on his shoulder and he slowly turned to look at me, his eyes vacant. "We're here."
He nodded then, and climbed out of the vehicle. We dragged the silence with us as we entered the elevator. We went to the lobby first so that Gideon could get keys and give authorization to Welch and others for access to the building. New ID's were ordered for Welch, myself and new rules for building access, security and monitoring were laid out by Welch, with Gideon's slight nod to him, letting everyone know who was head of security for now.
When that was all said and done, we headed for the elevator, the silence still weighing us down. I pondered the ease in which Gideon allowed Welch to take over. Nothing had been said yet, and no plans had been made, but they moved together like a well oiled machine, neither pausing nor correcting the other. It was, actually, kinda amazing how it went.
When the elevator came to a halt, I placed my hand on Gideon's shoulder, keeping him inside the car. The three men that had come with Welch all stepped out of the car and checked the premises. We were given the all clear and stepped out heading immediately to the living room, Gideon heading straight for the bar.
He clinked ice into three short tumblers, and splashed a hint of scotch into each. Welch and I walked over to the bar and each took a glass. A toast was not made, nor did we clink the glasses, but for a moment, we each looked into our glasses. I do not know what they thought but I would guess we each picture her in our minds. My heart ached with her absence. My soul cried out at my uselessness and my failures at protecting her. She was missing for two reasons; the bastard that took her and because I failed her.
I blinked, knowing my mind was playing tricks on me when I saw her reflection in the amber liquid in my , not her reflection. It was more like a memory, sitting on the top of the liquid. She was standing there, laughing, the wind blowing through a few wisps of her hair that had fought free of the braids she wore. It was a old memory. A very old memory. From way back when we were kids.
The first time I met her we were both too young to remember it. According to my mother, we had both gone to the same day care which was where we met. We lived on the same street, near the lake. We had been too young then to form a lasting relationship or to do anything beyond a scheduled playdate. She didn't live there long, though. After her parents passed away she moved to the city to live with her Aunt and Uncle.
I met her again in summer camp. We met and for the first time (or for me it felt like the first time), we got along like peas and carrots. It was the summer that forged our relationship and that almost hadn't have happened had her Aunt and Uncle (who had adopted her as their daughter) almost hadn't let her come. She was their first daughter, and I think they expected her to play with dolls, wear pretty dresses and faint at the sight of mud. Shana was a far cry from what they had expected her to be. She was the epitome of a Tomboy and she gave as good as she got. She was just like one of the guys; Dirt was her friend, bugs were play toys and she loved to run. She had a high tolerance for pain, which was tested time and again. She could swim as far as most of us, hold her breath the longest, climb trees like a monkey, and there was no one, not a single person, not even me, who was better at paintball then she was. For four years we would meet up at camp and have the best of times. Like all things, though, this too would come to an end.
The next time I saw her, she was at her Junior High School's Prom. My date went to the same school as she while I was at a Military Academy. My date went to the same school as she did, though I honestly didn't know it at the time. Because of that night, Shana went through a lot of grief the rest of that year and, I will admit it was totally and completely my fault.
We had already been at the dance for almost an hour when Shana arrived sans a male counter-part. Most women strive to be the Belle of the Ball, but Shana never did. After seeing her that night, I knew why she didn't strive for it. She didn't need to. She was the Siren of the Ball. She had worn a murderous black gown that dropped all the way to the floor but had a slit that nearly rose all the way to her hip. The top was a corset, sheer and beaded, but it brought her breasts up so high that I was surprised that they didn't pour out. When she walk, it was as if she floated across the floor, yet you could see, thanks to the slit, that not only was she walking on the floor, but on a pair of the highest shoes I had ever laid eyes on. Her brunette hair was dark, but it moved around her like a halo, none of it hiding her face.
She was beyond gorgeous.
If it hadn't had been for the dress, or the shoes, or that wicked slit, or maybe even her hair, all eyes would have been on her when she had entered the room because when she did, you felt her presence. I had stop mid-stride during a slow dance, as had most everyone else, all eyes at her. I watched as she had run her eyes casually over the crowd, and when she spotted me her face lit up with a beaming grin. I was punched in the shoulder a moment later, as apparently not only was I ignoring whatever my date had said to me, but I was also smiling back at Shana.
"What was that for," I said, pulling my eyes away from Shana to face the heated glare of the girl I brought to the dance (and whose name I can not remember right now).
"You know damn well what it was for," She barked before turning to face Shana, who had walked through the parted dance floor to stand in front of me.
"Hi." I had felt like such an idiot when I said that.
She grinned, one corner of her mouth rising higher then the other. "Hi," she returned.
"Umm... Shana this is..." Oh, yeah. and this is another reason why Shana had a hard time at school. I had forgotten my date's name even back then.
"Hi," she said with a nod at my date.
"I damn well know who she is. She's in two of my classes." I nodded.
"I didn't know you went here," I said, waving my arms around.
"Yep, for a few years. You look good. That uniform looks good on you." We talked for awhile and she introduced me to a few of her friends as we walked around. We danced some, but mostly, we talked. At the end of the evening she left with a date and my date left without hers. Also my fault.
We never lost touch after that and our friendship grew. Despite rumors and innuendos, we never dated. We never had sex and we never kissed, except a rare one on the cheek or so. I have never regretted knowing her. She's the best friend I ever had.
And I failed her.
I silently promised the image in my scotch that we will find her and then guzzled the small amount, letting the burn and taste bring me back to the here and now.
"What happened," Gideon asked Welch as we sat on the stools at the breakfast bar. Welch climbed down from his stool and walked back over to the bar and poured himself another splash of the Scotch. Enough to wet lips, but not enough to quench a thirst. Beyond what we've already drank, and his extra glass, we wont drink. We need to be on the ball with this case. More so then on any other.
"I can't confirm anything yet, but someone got into our systems and wipe all our files out. Everything is gone. Client lists, billing lists, all information we ever banked, it's been wiped clean." He said as he came back and sat down again.
"You had back-ups though." Gideon's voice was cold, sterile at the information.
"Yes, we did." I stared at him. We did, past tense.
"No way they got to the back-ups!" He nodded at me. "How the fuck does that happen? They weren't on the same network!"
"They weren't on any network at all, actually," Welch corrected. "It's why we can't confirm anything. We can't get into our systems. We can't access our saved information, if it's still there."
"All the back-ups?" I looked over at Gideon, his grip on his glass was so tight I was surprised it hadn't shattered in his hand.
"We hope that two that we haven't tried are still okay. But I can't access them until the IT guys give the go-ahead. There is information there that we need to track her down. In the mean time, we'll have to do this the old school way. Taylor?" I looked up at the call of my name to find him considering me. "Look, you were the last one assigned to her, and she disappeared on your watch..."
"Yeah," I sighed. I know the rules. I know them better then anyone because they are the Rules and Standards of World Securities International. I know them because I created their policy. "Yeah, I know."
"What is it?"
"According to the company rules, when there is a death or the client has gone missing against their will, the agent who was last with or assigned to the client cannot assist in the recovery or investigation," I explained to Gideon.
"You didn't do this. He didn't do this! This is not his fault!" Gideon jumped to his feet, his finger pointing at me as he exploded like a cannon at Welch.
"Mr. Cross, trust me when I say that I know he had nothing to do with it. But it's policy, and it's smart policy. His feelings for her, his connection to her, could possibly become too much of a distraction while we search for her."
"But you know her better then anyone they have," he professed to me. He was right, but the policy is more right.
"G, it's okay. Welch is right on this. I want to get her back, but look at the mistakes I already made because of my distractions."
"Mr. Cross, we'll keep him informed on everything, and if the need arises, I can consult with him, but this is the best thing to do for now. There is one other thing I have to alert you to." We both looked at him, our patience at an end. "Her GPS..."
"Right. I got it. Actually, Mack's got it. He was nearby with his van. His team is pulling the video."
"Right, I spoke to him briefly. Listen, I know this is hard, But you have to have faith that we will get her back. We've got good people, and we got on this right away, without hesitation. Taylor, go, get a shower while I get a team together to escort you to the airport. I don't think this needs saying, but... Hell. Security has got to be your main issue, for everyone. It's our job to protect and we will find her. But you, Mr. Cross, you have got to remain with a security detail at all times. Her family as well."
"I agree," Gideon and I said in unison.
"Since your base of operations has been compromised, can I offer you some office space, equipment, what ever you need?" This Gideon could do. Provide for her search until we could crawl back out of the darkness we had been shoved into.
"That would be appreciated." As Welch pulled out a notebook and began to jot down when he would need I ran to go take a shower. We could leave in fifteen minutes to head for the airport. I excused myself as I headed for my suite when Welch called back to me. "Jason, Mr. Cross is right. This wasn't your fault."
"I know Gerry. I keep telling myself that." He nodded taking his attention back to his notes. I do know it wasn't my fault. I just don't believe it when I tell it to myself.
