Willie had been stationed in a small office opposite to the room she and Daniel had been interviewed in. The officer had left her alone while she went to gather the things she needed. The past few hours were whizzing through her mind. None of it seemed real, it seemed like the plot from one of those many, many cop shows that seemed to be on when she couldn't sleep at 3am.
Fighting with Daniel in the office seemed like a lifetime ago, not a matter of hours. In that short space of time she had witnessed a murder, he had saved her life and now they were being carted off to some secret safe house to play happy families to avoid ending up in the bottom of the Hudson River.
Lost in her thoughts, she jumped a little when the door reopened and the officer returned, throwing a pad and pen on the table. She eyed it curiously. "What is this, the dark ages? I need a laptop, so I can email them."
Officer Harper shook his head. "No, can't do, no electronic contact allowed."
"Oh for God's sake, you think some small time street punk is going to tap our email!" She exclaimed in disbelief, the whole scenario was becoming more and more absurd.
"Look lady, write on that and you can fax it through, it's that or nothing." He left the room without further comment.
Nostrils flaring, she snatched up the pen and began to write.
xXx
It had been two hours since Claire had spoken to the officer over the phone and no one had made any further contact. The four of them were still situated at the doughnut desk staring at their cell phones, willing them to ring. Amanda was still fielding the calls coming through to the office but was disconnecting them if they weren't from Daniel, Wilhelmina or the police, which Claire kept telling her not to do and just do her job but she chose to ignore her, wanting to feel included.
Marc suddenly bolted upright from his slumped position at his desk. "Has anyone checked their emails?"
Marc, Claire and Betty all looked at each other and then scurried away to their computers. Amanda called after them. "I'll just hold the fort then!"
She sat blowing air through her pursed lips, bored. This had been fun to begin with but her train of thought had long since wandered. She tilted her head to the side as an unfamiliar sound invaded her ears. Spinning around in the chair she tried to locate the source. It was coming from under her desk. Kneeling down she spied the fax machine and screwed up her face. No one uses faxes anymore, she ripped the paper out and scanned over it.
For the attention of Claire Meade, Marc St James and I suppose Betty Suarez too. FOR THESE EYES ONLY! I will know if you read this Amanda!
Just as her eyes began to read the document, ignoring the implicit instructions, she felt it being snatched from her hands. Pouting, she faced Marc who was reading the paper, pulling it away from Betty who was also trying to read. Marc's eyes seemed to be getting wider, the further down the paper he read. Every now and then saying "Oh my God" and then shushing Amanda, Claire and Betty when they asked "What?"
When he was finished he looked at them all open mouthed. "They're being sent into witness protection."
"Very funny Marc, are you done with the dramatics?" Claire drawled, folding her arms.
Marc shook his head, "I'm serious Claire. They're putting you in charge."
"Let me see that!" She snapped at him.
"Okay but it's in Willie's angry handwriting, you'll never be able to read it." He smirked.
Claire snatched it, her eyes travelled over it before she thrust it back towards Marc. "I can't read this!"
Marc smiled and read from the fax. "The police insist it's for our own good and there is no other option. I can't tell you where or for how long but somehow either Daniel or myself will get word to you of anything pertinent. Until we return I suppose we must grudgingly hand the reigns to Claire. Now listen to me Claire, this is not an opening for you to turn Mode into 'Geriatric Fashions for You'
We have enough content lined up for at least two more issues. Marc knows exactly what's needed for the covers and I urge you to trust him with any creative decision which may arise. As for Betty, she is now in charge of finding our big names and interviewing them until we get back. Betty; I DO NOT want you using this as an excuse for you to interview your childhood heroes, or some awe inspiring woman with no arms or legs but still manages to dress her 7 illegitimate children. This is a fashion magazine!
Above all, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES must anyone be made aware of our absence; as far as the staff are aware, Daniel and I are visiting Mode France, UK and Brazil. We can't risk our competitors knowing we are out of the game, albeit temporarily."
Marc squinted at the words on the page. "In then it descends into unintelligible chicken scratches, I can just pick out the odd "Daniel" and "asshole" and something is "absolutely ludicrous" she must be really mad."
Betty snatched the paper from Marc and tried to decipher the words at the end, but to no avail. "We're in charge?" She squeaked.
Marc nodded at her. "This is huge Betty, if we do well think what this could mean for our careers when they get back."
"I think you'll find they put ME in charge." Claire said, amused.
"In name only." Marc scoffed. "This is my time to shine."
"Our time." Betty corrected him.
"Whatever." He shrugged.
"Guys, I don't think this is any reason to be celebrating." Amanda said, in an unusually sombre tone. They all moved to look at her, she was looking at them reproachfully. "I mean, if this is for real then they could have witnessed something really horrible. They don't put people in Witness Protection for seeing a fender bender. If they're going in the programme it means they saw something big, something bad and they could be in real danger."
Marc and Betty instantly sobered, feeling guilty for squabbling over who was in charge and rejoicing at the chance to show off their talents. Amanda laughed, a loud short burst.
"Gah! Who cares, we're in charge bitches!"
xXx
The ride to Connecticut had been fraught. Wilhelmina had refused to speak to anyone the entire way there; staring out the window, arms crossed, releasing the occasional tut or sigh. Daniel had tried to make conversation with the plain clothed officer driving them but after three failed attempts it became clear he didn't want to engage. Their phones had been taken from them before they left the station. It had taken thirty minutes and two officers to prise the Blackberry from Wilhelmina's vice-like grip, right now he wished he had fought to keep his phone too, at least so he could play games and stave off the boredom.
He had taken to counting how many of each colour car they passed, he lost count when they got to the freeway and instead played the licence plate game in his head. When they came off the freeway and back into quieter roads he stopped playing that and instead sneaked glances at Wilhelmina. To the casual observer, she was merely lost in thought, viewing the passing scenery. Daniel, who had come to know her better than most, knew different; he could tell by the slight shift in her facial muscles that she was slipping between annoyance at their current predicament and feeling morose when her mind travelled back to what they had witnessed in that alleyway, likening the girl inside to her own daughter.
"Stop looking at me Daniel." She spoke in a low voice, still staring out the window.
He didn't try to deny it as he would usually have done, instead he looked out his own window as they pulled into a typical suburban borough.
"We're here." The deep voice boomed from the front seat.
The car pulled up outside a small detached, two story house; white stone walls and ivy creeping up above the oak panelled door. A perfectly manicured lawn with the sprinklers already activated, perfectly symmetrical flowers planted around the border of the garden; a mailbox which was a miniature replica of the house. As they stepped out of the car they felt the gravel crunch beneath their feet.
Wilhelmina inhaled deeply, the unmistakable scent of fresh air and thriving wildlife never ceased to amaze her whenever she left New York City. "Dear God, could this be any more Desperate Housewives?"
Daniel ignored her and instead focussed on the red van they had parked behind. "What's with the moving van, I thought this place was furnished?" He addressed the burly man who had driven them.
"It is, we've had some of our guys ferrying empty boxes in and out for the past couple of hours, gotta keep up appearances, these suburban types are pretty nosey. It's a bonus that it's so late at night now, no one sticking their noses in until morning. Anyone asks you about the furniture, you tell 'em you had it shipped here in advance. Stick to the story you've been given, don't give them any reason to take notice of you but don't shy away completely; then they're gonna know you're hiding something." He held up a key ring with two sets of keys on it. "Enjoy your new home Mr and Mrs Johnson." He smirked and dropped the keys into Daniel's outstretched hand.
Daniel stared after the man as he got in the car and started the engine. "Wait! That's it?" He shouted futilely as the car reversed. He continued looking at it as it sped off in the distance, frozen to the spot, mouth wide. He shook himself from his trance when he felt the coolness of the metal leave his hands. Wilhelmina had snatched the keys and was marching to the front door of the house. Daniel looked to her and back to the spot in the horizon where he had last seen the car, then back again before hurrying to her side as she opened the door.
Swinging it open, they both stood on the threshold staring into the darkness of the house. Daniel nudged her back with his elbow, trying to push her inside. "You want me to carry you over the threshold darling?" He teased her, cruelly.
She retaliated by edging her body behind his and using one side of her body to shove him through the door. As he stumbled in; Wilhelmina ran her hand over the wall next to her and flicked the switch she found. Once there was sufficient light flooding the room, she stepped inside and closed the door. She wrinkled her nose as if she had stepped in something as she took in the room before her, completely non-descript. The decor and furnishings lifted straight out of Modern Homes; pine flooring, overstuffed sofa; and generic faux wooden furniture courtesy of Ikea.
Daniel picked up the remote and smiled when he saw the 50" flat screen in the corner. Willie rolled her eyes as he switched it on and started flicking through the sports channels. Typical boys and their toys, not concerned with what the rest of their supposed 'home' may hold, he was just happy he could get his beloved Knicks. As he flung the remote down and slumped down on the too plump cushions of the cream sofa, she snatched it back up and turned off the set.
Daniel slapped his hands down on his thighs and craned his head to look at her, annoyed. "Gee, it's like being married already."
"Don't you want to know what the rest of our lovely home looks like?" She said facetiously.
He stood up, exhaling loudly. "Fine." He gestured with his hand. "Lead the way honey."
She rounded on him, making him bump into her. "You REALLY need to stop that."
He rolled his eyes and looked skyward as she pushed open the swing door into the kitchen. Wilhelmina balked at the country living vibe she got from the room. Again the room seemed to have leapt from the pages of a catalogue, it was nothing like the kitchen she had at home. This was a room obviously designed with cooking in mind. Thick wooden counters nestled on top of white shaker units. A large island was situated in the middle of the room with a wrought iron rack above it from which various pots and pans hung, terracotta floors and matching wall tiles, to the side of the fitted kitchen sat a sturdy pine dining table with six chairs, each with green gingham coverings which offended Wilhelmina's very nature. The table sat in front of French doors leading outside, Daniel walked to the doors and peered outside. "Pretty impressive yard out there."
"Wonderful, it will be perfect for garden parties." She clapped her hands together and exclaimed with sarcasm.
Turning to her left she pulled on the door of the integrated fridge. Her eyes widened and she slammed it again and began opening various drawers and cupboards in the kitchen. "Are you kidding me!" She snapped.
Daniel walked to her side. "What?" He copied her movements and opened the fridge, his eyes also widening, for entirely different reasons. "Aw sweet; cheese in a can!" He took the canister out, shaking it before squeezing a line of the bright orange substance in his mouth.
Wilhelmina grimaced at him. "There is not one item in this kitchen that would ever cross my lips, what the hell am I expected to live on!"
He swallowed the mouthful of processed food. "Willie, this kitchen is packed!"
"With fat, carbs and heart attack in a can!" She looked around, hand on her hips and her eyes fell on an envelope propped next to the stove. Opening it she found it contained a hundred dollars. "What's this?"
"The police said they would leave us money for anything we might have to buy in between their visits, since we're not allowed access to our accounts." He shrugged.
Her eyes and mouth hung open, "This is for a week!"
He laughed at her disbelief. For once he was thankful for the times his father had cut him off in college and he'd had to live off buttons, otherwise he would have been as panicked as Wilhelmina.
"This won't even buy one half decent lunch, never mind supplement us for a week!"
He ignored her, already tired of her attitude and pulled out bread, pastrami, cheese and pickle. "Want one?" He asked as he started piling the filling onto the bread, finishing it off with a large squirt of mustard.
"Do you have any idea how many calories even one bite of that is?"
"Willie, we almost died today, it's time you stop worrying about getting fat." He bit into the sloppily made sandwich, mustard dripping down his chin.
"You're disgusting." She scolded him and pushed her way back through the swinging door. Daniel heard the sound of her heels climbing the stairs, to check out the rest of the house and he spat the mouthful of sandwich in the bin; it really was vile.
He walked out of the kitchen, his tongue working in between his teeth to remove the acrid taste in his mouth, and stared around the room. He briefly contemplated turning the Play-offs back on the television when he heard a scream from upstairs. Instantly on his guard he ran toward the stairs and bounded up them two at a time. "Willie!" He called for her as he burst into the room which had the door ajar.
She was standing in the middle of the room, staring aghast at the far side of the room. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "This isn't happening."
"What!" He demanded.
Silently, she lifted her hand and pointed towards the built in wardrobes lining the walls. Daniel tentatively stepped towards them and slowly slid the mirrored doors open. He half expected something to jump out at him or at the very least some kind of ferocious looking spider to be skulking in the depths of the closet; he stepped back staring quizzically at the stocked wardrobe and with the same puzzled expression looked back at Wilhelmina.
"What?" He shrugged.
She marched to his side and started rooting through the closet, pulling things out and flinging them over her shoulder. "What! Polyblends, man-made fibres, JEANS." She launched a pair at him. "Chequered shirts!" She waved one of the offending garments in his face.
He snatched it from her. "For God's sake, you know when you've spent the day getting shot at, it's kind of unnerving when someone lets out a blood-curding scream. I thought something happened!"
"Something did happen!" She yelled, "I stumbled into the graveyard of bad fashion!"
He started picking up the clothes she had strewn over the room in her rage. "Calm down, I'm sure the women's clothes will be more suitable."
"These ARE the women's clothes."
Daniel huffed out a laugh but quickly bit down on his lip when he saw the expression on her face. When he sobered and looked back up at her he frowned when he saw her smirking. "I'm glad you think it's funny. I'm sure you'll still be laughing it up when you're in your chino's and golf jumpers."
Her smirk widened when his expression fell. "You're joking right?"
"Am I a comedienne?"
Daniel ran his hands over his face. "Well there's nothing we can do. We just need to grit our teeth and get on with it. Besides, it's not like anyone we know is gonna see us."
She huffed and folded her arms. "Fine, but if you ever tell anyone you saw me in denim, you're gonna wish that little punk hadn't missed."
Daniel looked around him. "So what else is on this floor?"
"How the hell would I know? I came straight into the room that taste forgot. Go look, it's hardly a labyrinth." She started opening and closing more drawers.
"I guess you've claimed this room then?"
"With detective skills like that you should have stayed behind to help out the NYPD." She drawled.
Biting down a retort, because if he responded to her every little dig and sarcastic comment he would run out of comeback very quickly, he left what was now her room and went in search of his own.
Not much searching was required when there were only three more doors branching off of the landing. The first one he opened was nothing more than a linen closet, towels and sheets all neatly stacked inside.
Opening the middle one, he found the bathroom. Nothing special in there except he knew Wilhelmina would have a conniption when she saw the shade of the olive green bathroom suite. Stepping inside it he was suddenly very aware of how many times this house may have been used before him and wrinkled his nose. The tub was narrow and flush against the wall, the shower hanging above it.
Turning the taps halfway up the wall to activate it, he frowned when it didn't work. Stretching up he lifted the shower head from the bracket and peered at it. He began spluttering madly when the jet of water shot out of it and hit him in the face. Pointing it away from his dripping wet face, he glared at the door where Wilhelmina stood with an accomplished grin on her face. "You need to flip the switch dumbass."
He watched her open the door to the closet and lift out a clean towel and sheets and retreat back to her room. Grabbing a towel and dabbing at his face he left the bathroom. He brought the towel to his hair and began to dry it off as he pushed open the last door.
His hand stilled in his hair and he groaned in annoyance, low in his throat. Tilting his head right back he took heavy defeated steps back to the room Wilhelmina was in. "Willie, we have a problem." He called through the door.
She swung it open, glaring at him. "Other than being forced to co-habit in hell's back yard?"
"Just come see." He turned round and walked back down the hall. He heard Wilhelmina tut and reluctantly follow him. When he stopped just inside the room, he felt her peer over his shoulder and felt the puff of air against his skin when she laughed. "You do indeed have a problem."
"Me!"
"I've got my room." She shrugged. "You have this one, I think it's fitting for you actually."
Daniel pulled a face at her and turned back to stare inside the room. The home they were in had obviously previously been inhabited by a family, he stared at the white cot in the far corner, the mobile of farm animals dangling over it. A rocking chair in the corner was the only other piece of furniture.
"Well I'm beat." Wilhelmina said behind him, in the happiest tone he'd heard her use all day. "I'm going to bed. I suggest you go potty and crawl into your crib little guy."
He spun round. "This isn't funny."
"Au contraire. Night night, now don't you let the bed bugs bite, you want me to wind up your mobile? I know night time is scary, but there are no monsters in here."
"Except you of course." He quipped.
"Except me of course." She agreed, winking at him before she turned her back and walked away. He swore he heard a laugh before her door clicked shut.
Daniel remained standing in the child's room, staring at the cot as if he could will it into turning into a kingsize bed like he was accustomed to. After ascertaining that there was definitely not a bed of adult proportions he stalked from the room and made a show of loudly banging the closet door as he pulled out an assortment of sheets and a pillow.
He thumped downstairs making as much noise as he could and left the landing light blazing. Once he was downstairs he threw the sheets on the couch and slumped on top of them. He picked up the remote Wilhelmina had discarded earlier and flipped on the television. The game he had been hoping to watch had finished. Flipping through the channels he eventually settled on a re-run of a sitcom he had seen countless times. He needed mind-numbing entertainment right now, couldn't handle anything that would cause him to have to concentrate.
Even the monotony of the scene he had seen so many times he could recite, was not calming the thoughts racing through his mind. He stood up and walked to the window, leaning his arm against it and staring at the street outside. He saw cars parked perfectly in line, up and down the street; ready for their owners to jump in them in the morning and go about their day.
Pristine lawns adorned every front yard his eyes came upon, the subtle touches in each one making them different, as the home owners who tended to them tried to out-do their neighbours. On a few of the lawns he saw a evidence of a child living there; a discarded football, a pink bike left on its side, abandoned by the children who played with them as soon as a call rang out from one of their parents, bringing them inside for the evening.
In each of the little boxes made of brick and mortar, people slept soundly in the street; couples, lovers, families; each with their own stories, each living their own lives. Daniel thought of the security these strangers must have in their lives; the little girl wakened by a nightmare, only to find herself pulled into the comforting arms of her father who was always there to chase the bad dreams away.
The mother who was still up at this ungodly time, to make sure she had her children's outfits ready for the school day ahead.
The husband sneaking in after being late at the office and contentedly watching his wife sleep.
The old couple who did nothing but bicker and snipe all day after their 50 years of marriage, but still held each other as they slept, each knowing they were half of the same whole.
Where these people on the street? Who knows? Most likely. These were only the little snippets of life that played throughout Daniel's head as he watched the landscape of his temporary home.
Whoever else lived in this street, whoever lived in those houses, whatever their stories may be; he bet they weren't in hiding, tucked away by the police for their own safety when really they had just placed him in the most dangerous situation of all.
Shacked up with Wilhelmina Slater.