They worked through the night. Making it 55 hours since Tim had disappeared. Tempers were short, sleep limited, but still they kept going. The morning of the third day they caught a break.
Raylan was checking and re-checking statements when Rachel came into the conference room.
"Fingerprints on the snare, on Tim's rifle." She held up the file. "Come back to a Penny Carsfield. I checked the system, she was reported missing by her boyfriend three months ago from her dorm room in UK." She pushed the open file over to Raylan.
His fingers trembled as he picked up the file. "Oh… shit." He was on his feet. "I interviewed her yesterday, thought she seemed nervous." Whatever the hell Penny had done to Tim, she was going to answer his questions. "Art? Art…" Raylan practically fell through the Chief's office door. "We've got a lead on Tim."
Art murmured something into the phone and hung up. "Do you have an address?"
"Yeah." Distress made Raylan's voice tight. "I was there, yesterday. I walked right past… if she's hurt him…"
Art grabbed Raylan's arm. "You can't think like that. Tim is relying on you, Raylan."
Raylan got the point, pull yourself together. Well, shit. This time there was more at stake, and the image in his mind was Doyle standing above him, and a split second where time seemed to lag as the black hole appeared in the middle of Doyle's forehead. Raylan owed Tim his life.
Back to the apartment block they had searched on the first day. Raylan concentrated on what he had to do. This was nothing like Harlan, or the million and one tricky villains with their scams and their casual cruelty. This was a sick girl, and a Deputy US Marshal who had come to mean a lot to Raylan.
Tim Gutterson needed Raylan Givens' A game on this. Aware of the rest of the team to the left and right down the hall, Raylan paused in front of her door, and knocked.
"Yes." She looked vaguely bewildered again, but now Raylan could see it. Something was seriously off. And somewhere behind her in the gloomy apartment, Tim. He tried to keep his focus on her, because that was where it needed to be.
Raylan was good at talking, and she certainly seemed to be calming down, but with each breath his tension was ratcheting up. He was struggling to keep it gentle and respectful, when his instincts were to barge past her. But they couldn't do that, just in case they lost the chance to find Tim.
A footstep behind him, and hand on his arm. Rachel's voice…
"…I know it must be disturbing and confusing, all these people asking questions, but our friend is missing," to Raylan's surprise, Rachel pulled out her wallet and flipped it open, "we're worried about him," and Raylan's jaw almost dropped, Rachel was holding up a picture from the softball game only a few weeks ago, himself and Tim, either side of Rachel.
A flicker of recognition from Penny.
Rachel took over, keeping her voice calm and steady she used the technique he had used on the old man in LA when they were chasing Rolly Pike. A surge of pure emotion hit Raylan's gut as Rachel finally managed to open the door.
Aware that Rachel was guiding the girl to her couch, and the rest of the team was starting to move into the cold and depressing apartment, Raylan called Tim's name softly as he moved down the hall, opening doors.
"Oh god." Raylan had found Tim. He knelt by the tub, reaching out to place two shaking fingers on Tim's neck, searching for a pulse. It was there, it was weak but a lot steadier than he expected. "Tim… can you hear me…" Tim moaned, he was shivering with cold, and Raylan fumbled with his handcuff key, unlocking Tim's sore wrists. As Tim's arms flopped into his lap, his eyes opened just a crack, Tim's lips moved, and Raylan reached out desperately. He wanted Tim out of that freezing cold tub.
Raylan yelled for help and blankets, they were going to need an ambulance. But Raylan wanted Tim out of that tub, wanted to hold him in his arms and reassure himself that it was real, and Tim really was alive. So he did a crazy thing. Got to his feet, reached down into the tub, slid his arms around Tim's shoulders and under his knees and lifted.
Tim might have been three inches shorter than Raylan, but he was no lightweight. Sick and sore and drifting as he was he had nothing to give to help Raylan.
Raylan didn't care, he heaved his friend up in his arms, Tim's weight knocked him back a step, he hit the wall behind with a hefty thud, and then he was sliding down the wall to land on his ass on the floor, Tim cradled in his arms.
The jolt to Tim's injured leg caused a bemused moan, and another guilty stab to Raylan's gut. The girl was crazy, it wasn't her fault, but it sure as hell was Raylan's. If he'd only gone with Tim, this wouldn't have happened.
Art appeared in the doorway with a couple blankets he'd snatched up from somewhere, startled to find Raylan sitting on the floor holding Tim. Tim's head was resting against Raylan's shoulder, the fingers of Tim's left hand fisted in Raylan's shirt.
Art had to admit that this time he really didn't know what was going through Raylan's head, but then all thoughts of that shot out of his mind when Raylan pointed out Tim's leg.
Art knelt to take a look. The wound was just below the knee, a gash which almost went all the way round Tim's leg. The wound itself was hot to the touch, the flesh swollen and tight. Damn. Getting up slowly, Art moved out into the hallway to enquire where the damn ambulance was, because he had one deputy down, and a very sick and confused young lady in urgent need of psychiatric care, and would they mind getting a move on.
Tim was sick and hurting, and everything was all jumbled up, but he knew he was safe. His head was resting against a firm shoulder, blearily he opened his eyes a little. The checked shirt seemed familiar, the aftershave too. He was safe, all he had to do was hang on. He closed his fingers into the shirt, shut his eyes and hung on. It would be alright… He drifted away.
