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White Collar Quote of the Day: "I don't think he bugged the dog." ~ Elizabeth

-O-

Chapter 3

And the Water Gets Hotter

Bright light filtered into the room, peppering on the opposite wall as it found its way through clear spots in the small, grungy window that was the only source of light. The glow wasn't strong enough to be warming, but nonetheless it found its way between the eyelids of the slouched and sleeping figure resting in the only piece of furniture in the room – a chair – and waking him. Neal Caffrey blinked his eyes open, stifling a moan. With his consciousness came the pain in his head – a throbbing ache that pounded against his skull, making him wince. He squinted against the sunlight, trying to move his stiff-muscled limbs – and coming up short as they met with rope. His wrists were tied to the armrests of the chair.

Neal's eyes snapped open. If he hadn't been fully awake before, he was now. He strained against the ropes, only succeeding in proving how securely they were tied. A shot of adrenaline coursed through his body, shaking the last clinging webs of sleep from his mind. He blinked, rapidly, as the events of the previous night flooded his mind.

"There's a man here. He says he's an old friend of yours."

"What's his name?"

"He didn't give one," June answered, sounding perplexed. "Do you want me to let him up?"

Neal hesitated. Usually, when someone didn't give a name, it was because they didn't want to be recognized. "Yeah, sure."

She left, closing the door behind her. Neal glanced at the locked desk drawer where he kept his gun – the one he'd bought at a yard sale (they'd asked to see a permit, of course) so that Peter wouldn't know about it – wondering if he should unlock it or not. The decision was made for him, the door opening before he had time to make up his mind.

Neal froze, staring in shock at the figure in the doorway. The figure in the doorway smiled, stepped over the threshold, and drew something from his pocket.

Matthew Keller grinned at Neal's reaction, casually directing the muzzle of the gun in his direction. Neal was frozen. He couldn't speak, and even if he could have nothing would have come out. He could barely force himself to take three steps back, as it was.

Keller practically sauntered into the room, smiling as he said, "Evening, Neal. This is a nice place you got here."

It was as if the man's words had broken some sort of spell, and Neal was able to speak again. "What do you want, Keller?" He didn't bother asking if Keller was supposed to be in jail. He was, and yet he wasn't. He'd promised Neal that he would escape. It was looking like he'd kept his promise.

In answer, Keller handed Neal a pair of scissors.

"What are these for?" Neal asked.

"You know."

And Neal did know. He knew as he looked down the barrel of the gun, where this was going. He took the scissors, it's not like he had a choice, and leaned down, slicing through the thick plastic of his anklet. He moved slowly, trying to formulate a plan of some kind. Was there any way he could leave a message for Peter?

As he straightened, he caught sight of his hat. It would have to do.

Keller led Neal out of the mansion, covering the gun with a jacket as they passed by the room occupied by June. A dark van was waiting on the curb. Keller A dark van was waiting on the curb. Keller gestured for Neal to climb into the back. He hadn't even sat down when he was slammed in the back of the head with what he could only assume was the butt end of the gun.

Neal slouched again against the chair, angry. Angry with himself for being here. Angry with Mozzie for leaving him alone. Angry with June for letting a stranger into her home. He didn't force himself to calm down, either. The anger masked the fear.

He knew that Peter, along with the rest of the FBI and probably even Mozzie, would think that he had run away. The hat really wasn't much of a clue. There were no signs of struggle in his room, only a tampered anklet and no Caffrey. It really was a good plan on Keller's part, and Neal probably would have admired it more if it hadn't been for the fact that he was the main factor in it.

The door in the far corner of the room opened, and Matthew Keller walked in. Strolled would have been a more appropriate word. He even smiled as he caught sight of Neal.

"You're awake!"

Neal stared at him.

"Your buddies over at the FBI are going crazy, tripping over themselves to figure out why you'd run away. It's amusing."

Neal glared at him.

"Say something, you idiot! Don't just sit there!" Keller snapped.

Neal didn't want to comply, but he had to get answers to his burning questions. "Why am I here?" he asked.

Keller chuckled. Neal didn't like chucklers. "You're here so that I can beat Neal Caffrey, once and for all."

-O-

"Matthew Keller broke out of prison earlier this morning. He's on the run."

"Why didn't we hear about this earlier?" Special Agent Peter Burke snapped, clanking his palm against his desk for emphasis. He'd been asking that question ever since Jones had provided him with the information last night. And the answer had been the same every time. The prison had been so busy with preparing for the upcoming trial that it had been pushed aside. The perfect opportunity.

"Peter, calm down. It's just a coincidence," Diana sighed, impatient at her boss's insistence that Neal was not a fugitive. She may have been in on the music box secret, but that didn't mean she trusted Neal any more than before.

She wasn't the only one with that opinion. Most of the agents, including Hughes, refused to even consider that Keller had something to do with Caffrey's disappearing act. The word "coincidence" kept cropping up.

Peter ignored Diana, his gaze caught by a figure making her way up through the bullpen to Peter's office.

"El, what are you doing here?" Peter asked as his wife entered the office, brushing by Diana as the special agent left to give them some privacy. "Don't you have to work today?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Hey, when you own the company, you can do practically anything you want," she leaned up to give Peter a quick peck on the cheek. "Plus, it was my lunch break. And I figured," she planted a large brown paper bag on his desk, "that you'd be too caught up in your work to have lunch."

Peter sighed. "Thanks, hon, but I just don't have time. I need to find a lead. It just doesn't make sense. Neal wouldn't leave like this."

"Are you sure?"

Peter looked at her. "Why would he leave when we're so close to figuring out the secrets of the music box, and who killed Kate?"

"Have you talked to June?"

Peter felt like an idiot. He'd completely forgotten about June, the woman who'd willing let Neal into her home. If there was anything sinister about Neal's disappearance, she'd be the one to know. It was a rookie move, skipping over her, and Peter wanted to rush down to the mansion that instant. But first, he realized as he caught the faint scent of homemade chop suey, he really was starving.

-O-

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