Time was ticking by way fast and Thursday was well aware of it. It was pitch dark now outside and he couldn't help but steal the occasional glance at the clock on his desk or that in the common room. There were only 4 hours left to find Morse. 4 Hours to find what they weren't able to find in the last 8 ones. They were running out of leads and everyone grew restless and agitated.
Thursday had been on the phone with Win a couple of times, to let her know what was going on as much as to let her calm his nerves a bit. He knew he had to keep a clear head if they wanted to get somewhere with this investigation, but now that they had seemingly gotten to a dead end even the soft words of faith that Win gave him couldn't bring him out of it.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was letting Morse down. The lad probably would've cracked the case within the first 6 hours, seeing connections that many others might miss. And now, who knew what he was going through.
The DI scanned the little things they did know. The picture and letter had been put up on the board for everyone to see, including a photograph of Miss Dion with the words "left there at approx. 2.15". After that, no one knew what had happened.
"PC Jones has spoken with the innkeeper at the Seven Bees. His wife had been sweeping the porch around that time, but hasn't seen anyone with Morse's description." Jakes had come walking up to him, interrupting his thoughts.
"So, little chance he has gone that way then."
"Seems that way sir."
"Knowing Morse, he'd either come back to the station or pursue a lead he suddenly thought of. But he can't have gotten much from Miss Dion, she told him she didn't know Stackford."
Jakes seemed to hesitate. "Are we sure we can trust her though?"
Of course Thursday had already asked himself that very same question. What if whatever happened, happened when Morse was with Miss Dion? Could she be behind it?
"There's no way we can connect those two though. Yes, Stackford has gone to her shop a few times, but that could be purely circumstantial/coincidental. We can hardly arrest her based on that alone."
Jakes brushed a hand through his hair and Thursday could see he itched for a smoke, no doubt just as frustrated with this entire case as he was himself.
"Then what do we do?" He asked.
Someone behind them scraped their throat. "I eh, I might've got something that can help."
Thursday turned around to see PC Kolme standing in the doorway, a brown envelope in his hands that looked identical to the one that was currently being examined by the people from forensics. The DI made his way over to him quickly. "Where did you find this? On the doorstep?"
Kolme nodded, "I just wanted to step outside for a bit of air and there it was."
"Did you see anyone? Anything at all?"
Kolme shook his head. "I didn't, I walked a few feet in either direction but the street is abandoned."
Thursday tried not to keep his hands from shaking as he took the package from the PC, already dreading what they'd been send this time. Once more the package contained a short letter accompanied by a picture. He laid them on the table beside him for everyone to see.
He tried to escape, but it didn't work out so well for him. The deadline has moved up, I want John Stackford out within the next 2 hours.
Thursday's heart dropped. 2 Hours. They wouldn't make it.
And the picture downright tore his heart to shreds. It had been taken in the same place as before, but Morse was unconscious this time, it looked like the ropes that bound him to the chair were the only things holding him upright. Thursday winched at the sight of his face, blood covered it and it looked like his nose was broken in more places than one. One eye was swollen and there was blood on his shirt as well, though Thursday couldn't figure out if it was because of an unseen wound underneath it or if it had some other source.
And that all because he had tried to escape, had wanted to get out of there. Something Thursday could've assured if they had just found him. There was hell to pay if he found out who was behind this.
The other coppers looked just as shocked as him at seeing the picture. Strange wore a grimace and Jakes quickly looked away.
Not trusting his voice enough to speak Thursday walked over to the board and hung the contents of the second package next to that of the first one. It felt so wrong to have Morse on a picture on the board, like your usual murder victim, and not standing there besides them to help them solve the case.
"Alright," he tried to keep the fear and anger out of his voice as he turned to the coppers that were still here, helping them. "You know what to do, don't forget to examine the package as well. Jakes, take a peek outside and see if anyone has seen someone around who could've put that thing on our front step." He doubted there was still anyone on the street at this time of day, but it couldn't hurt to ask around.
"Thursday, my office?"
While everyone got back to their duties Thursday turned to follow Bright. The superintendent had come back to the station halfway through the night, probably more out of a felt obligation to be there than to actually be able to help, but Thursday was grateful for it anyway. There were many officers who would just stay in bed when a DC went missing and only hear what the outcome had been the following morning.
"Are we getting anywhere?" Bright asked as Thursday closed to door behind him.
"We're hoping the second package will give us more to go on than the first, but Stackford doesn't seem to know who the culprit is and so far we have no lead yet as to where Morse could've gone after visiting Miss Dion. With the deadline dropping to two hours we're going to have a hard time getting to him before that I fear." The guilt about this whole matter was discernible in his voice.
"A downright awful matter is this. We can only hope he's holding out well."
Thursday knew what Bright meant, it was clear from the photograph they've just gotten that physically he wasn't doing too well. They could only hope that his mental state fared better.
"How are you getting on then?"
That wasn't a question Thursday had seen coming. He hadn't given his own wellbeing much room for thought, not when every second counted. Pondering the question for a moment, he decided to be honest about it. "I would feel a lot better knowing the lad was safe and sound, but I'm holding on. Calling the missus every now and then to keep my feet on the ground."
"Good, that's good. Well, that was all I wanted to ask really, I'll let you get back to your duties. Mind how you go Thursday."
"Thank you sir." Eager to get on with the search the DI turned to the door, only to be called back just as he stepped through it.
"Oh and Thursday, the locks on our holding cells can be… rusty, from time to time. Right?"
He couldn't help but smile a little. "Of course sir. Shame they haven't been fixed yet."
"Yes, quite. Well, carry on." And with that, the door closed behind him.
It was cold. It was oh so very cold. And this time wiggling his hands did nothing except allowing the ropes to bury themselves deeper into the flesh of his wrists. Peterson had pulled the ropes extra tight after his escape, probably in fear of the same thing happening again. He stopped by every now and then as well. Luckily he only got insults thrown at his head and not any more kicks or punches, Morse wasn't sure how many more of those he would be able to handle.
He felt neither fingers nor toes and apart from a constant dull throbbing his nose was numb as well. Though he was probably grateful for that last fact, from what he could see from the corner of his eyes it would only hurt a lot. Now he just had to deal with ribs that hurt with every breath and every shiver, and a splintering headache that had probably come hand in hand with a concussion.
Peterson had just left again so he knew he would be sitting in the dark here by himself for some time. He had no way of knowing how much time had exactly passed, though he suspected the dark had already reached its worst.
He closed his eyes again. It had been much better when he was out of it, there was no cold or pain or fear to be felt then. Not for the first time he wondered if these were the last hours of his life. Captivity does that to a man, especially when facing the unknown.
That he was still here means he was right in guessing that they wouldn't let Stackford out so easily. They were probably trying to crack the case and find him. At least, he knew Thursday and Strange must be. He never really made friends with the other coppers, he couldn't imagine someone like Jakes for example sacrificing a night of sleep because of him. Maybe Thursday would order him to, if so Morse would probably get an earful from his colleague about making him work through the night when he came back.
If he came back.
He hardly believed it himself to be honest, he knew the first few hours of any kidnapping were crucial. If they hadn't gotten a lead on him by now they wouldn't by the end of the night. Morse hadn't lied when he told Peterson he didn't think they'd trade Stackford for him. They would be stupid to do so, with no way of guaranteeing Peterson would keep his word.
He got pulled from his musings by the door in front of him opening and a shadow stepping through, his breath already catching before he could good and well see the person in front of him. This sudden visit surprised him, Peterson usually waited some time before coming to check up on him again.
Morse squinted his eyes to try and make out the figure walking towards him. Something wasn't right, the posture was off. This was…
"Miss Dion?"
The woman brings a finger to her mouth in a shushing motion. "I'll explain later, we have to be quick." And to Morse's astonishment she knelt down and began to undo the restraints at his feet.
"What-"
"Later."
Was this the concussion giving him hallucinations or was Miss Dion really helping him to get out of here? He had assumed that she was the one who drugged him, had he been wrong about her?
With steady hands she helped him stand up after freeing him from the restraints. Morse couldn't help but grunt at the pain in his ribs and feels some misplaced kind of guilt for having to lean so heavily on her. The room spins for a moment and the headache seems to flare, but by the time they reach the door it has reduced to a few blurry patches in his vision. Miss Dion still doesn't say anything so Morse lets her lead him through the hallway and the door he had hid behind earlier.
It was only then that it occurred to him that this might very well be a trap, and he silently berates himself for not thinking about that possibility earlier. He steps aside when Miss Dion silently closes the door behind them, inching backwards and leaning against the wall for support.
"Why are you doing this?" The shivers that racked his body made his voice shake but he ignored it. If she still wouldn't tell him he wouldn't take one more step with her, of that he was sure.
The woman looked at him with a slight frown, apparently coming to the conclusion it would be easier to just tell him. "Peterson has gone too far, and I cannot stand for it."
"Weren't you the one who drugged me?"
"Yes, I was. We have to keep going, I'll tell you on the way."
Reluctantly Morse followed Miss Dion. He was slower when walking on his own but he didn't trust her enough to be that near again. Which was a stupid notion of course, if she wanted to hurt him she had every chance to do so, the state he was in.
"After our date Peterson and I became good friends, knowing there was no chance for us as lovers but still enjoying each others company. I came to learn that he had fallen in love with another man, and wishing him the luck and love we weren't able to give each other I decided I wanted to help him out."
They carefully made their way past the splintered door Morse had kicked in. He couldn't help but glance over his shoulder every now and then, the feeling of being chased lingering.
"He had met Stackford when visiting my shop a couple of times, but then you lot locked him up. Convinced that Stackford could never kill anyone, Mark wanted to get him out."
"And you just helped him like that?"
"I thought I was helping an innocent person out." The venom in her voice spiked for a moment, but it disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. "I never did like the police. But after I saw what he was doing to you I wasn't so sure what to believe anymore. The friend I know would never have done something like this."
She glanced over where Morse had stopped to lean against the wall, trying to catch his breath. "You okay?"
"I'll be fine" In truth he was anything but, his legs were weak and unstable and it took everything he had to not pass out right there and then. If Miss Dion was right though, and she really was helping him then there was no time to waste.
"Where is Peterson anyway?" He asked while pushing himself off the wall and resuming their walk.
"I'm not entirely sure, but he said he would be back within a quarter of an hour, which doesn't give us too much time."
"When was this?"
Miss Dion looked at her watch. "About 10 minutes ago. He won't notice your absence immediately, but it won't be long until he starts looking downstairs, I'd wager we have about 10-15 minutes left."
They had come to a halt before the stairs. Morse looked up them in dread, wondering just how he was supposed to climb them.
"I'll help you." Miss Dion read his thoughts. "You go first, I'll walk behind you."
Hesitating but not seeing any reason to distrust her with this, Morse did as she said. It was a painful process and one that took entirely too long for his taste, but somehow they eventually reached the hallway. Once upstairs he sank against the wall, trying to catch his breath and holding his sore ribs. He was still shivering like crazy, although he noticed that it was warmer up here than it had been in the basement.
Miss Dion gave him half a minute before pulling him upright again. "Okay up you go, I'm sorry for this but if you want to make it out you really have to start going now. You're going to have to do the rest on your own."
"Wait- I can't leave you behind here, who knows what he'll do to you when he figures out what happened." Morse didn't exactly feel a lot of sympathy for the woman who had helped in getting him here in the first place, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if she got into trouble for helping him out.
Miss Dion looked at him in surprise. "Maybe I was wrong, perhaps not all coppers are asshats. But I'll be fine, trust me, Peterson only has eyes for Stackford nowadays, he won't care about me. That's exactly why you have to hurry however, I fear he'll be coming right after you. Cowley station is only ten minutes away, I'll try to slow him down but you're going to have to be fast if you want to reach the station before Stackford reaches you."
Morse was not looking forward to a walk through the snow when he was already cold and in pain, but for the first time since his failed attempt at escaping earlier he allowed himself to feel the slightest shimmer of hope.
"Thank you." He said. "For helping me."
"Yes, well, I just hope you make it in time. Sorry I can't give you an extra coat, heaven knows you look like you need one, but Stackford would notice it immediately. Now, go."
She was nearly dragging him outside now, and knowing the urge in her voice had a very solid reason, Morse stepped into the cold night air. As soon as he did the door closed behind him. Recognizing the street he was on -thank God for that- he blinked the fog away, wrapped his arms around himself, and started the long walk home.
Can I just say a huge THANK YOU to the guest who has been commenting on the last two chapter? (I assume they're both from you and not actually 2 different people but if that is the case please correct me!) Thank you so much for your support, I hope you liked this chapter!
