AN: Huge thanks to Karen for the beta.it helped me immensely. And thanks
to everyone reading.I've had a hard time lately, and haven't written much.
Thanks for sticking with me.
Chapter Three
"You've been invited to tear down this locked, secret door. There ain't no doubt, they'll take you out, and all you're about, Dodging these daggers they throw at you."
I peered down the dark hallway, searching for something, anything. I heard a door slam, then silence.
Nothing.
Balling my hands into tight fists, I took a hesitant step out of my doorway, expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. All I could hear were the sounds of my frantic breathing; the house was completely silent.
"Syd?" I jumped at the sound of my name and whirled around quickly. Francie stumbled towards me, her eyes still half-closed. "Syd, what's going on? I thought I heard something."
"So did I," I breathed, my eyes darting about as they grew accustomed to the darkness. Fairly certain that no one was still in the apartment, I stepped slowly into the living room, Francie right behind me.
Throwing on the light switch, my breath caught in my throat at what I saw. The room was torn apart. Couches ripped to shreds, tables turned over, our television shattered, shards of glass where windows once were. Completely ransacked.
"Oh my God!" Francie shrieked behind me, and I could feel my stomach drop to the floor. "Syd, Syd, oh my God, we've been robbed!"
I tuned out Francie's cries as I walked slowly around the room, my eyes mechanically surveying the destruction. It was clear that nothing was missing. It wasn't a robbery.
"Francie, go put on some shoes," I told her, my voice expressing no emotion. "I don't want you to cut your feet on all this glass." I hurried back to my room and slid into my slippers, glancing around quickly. The room was completely undisturbed. I picked up the cordless phone on my bedside and hesitated at who to call. Vaughn? My father? Instead, I dialed 911, calmly telling the operator that my house had been robbed. Best to play dumb.
As I told the operator what had happened-woken up by a crashing sound, living room torn apart-a small flash of white on my dresser caught my eye. A small piece of paper propped against my jewelry box. I delicately picked it up and after a moment of hesitation, unfolded it.
It read simply, 'We know who you are.'
I paced around slowly as the police searched the room, the blue and red lights from their patrol cars bouncing across the walls. A couple of officers were talking with Francie, probably getting a statement, and I was left to pace.
Approaching our bookshelf, my gaze fell upon the shattered picture frames.images of me Francie, and Will; happier times. Destroyed. I thought bitterly that the symbolism was quite ironic. Foreshadowing, perhaps.
"Miss?" a voice came from behind. I whirled around and saw the officer speaking to me. He was an older man, kind looking, but with a certain quality to his face. Worry lines surrounded his tired eyes, as if he had seen far too much in his time. Reminded me of my father.
He asked me what had happened, and I told him exactly what did, glancing around the room nervously as I spoke.
"And that was it, Miss Bristow?" he questioned, looking at me from above his wire-rimmed glasses. "None of the other rooms were touched? Absolutely nothing?"
"No," I said softly, my fingers brushing the note that rested in my pocket. "Nothing at all."
The officers looked around our apartment for about an hour more as Francie and I huddled together in a corner, out of the way, barely speaking. By the time they finished up, it was almost five in the morning. But I wasn't having any problems staying awake.
After most of the officers had left, the one that reminded me of my father approached us, looking sympathetic. "I know it's late, ladies, and I think we're done. We dusted for prints and nothing came up. Since nothing is missing, there's not much we can do.we have virtually no evidence. I think it would be safe to assume that the perpetrator had the intention of robbing you, but was scared off when you woke up."
I nodded. Oh, how I wished it were that simple.
"Have you noticed anything unusual in the past few days? Any suspicious activity, suspicious persons outside of your house, anything of the sort?"
I shook my head, but Francie got a scared look in her eyes. "A few days ago, all the money from one of my bank accounts went missing. I assumed it was a bank error, or something.but they said they didn't know anything about it." She gasped. "You don't think that could have anything to do with it, do you?"
The officer sighed, shaking his head. "Gosh.wow. It very well could. I don't know how, though. Have you ladies pissed anyone off lately?"
Ha. Ha. If only he knew.
He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable that neither of us cracked a smile. "Well.that's certainly something we want to look into. I'll tell you what. It's late. Why don't you come down to the station tomorrow and fill out a statement about your bank account? We'll see if we can't get that figured out. All right?"
We nodded and said goodnight, our apartment finally empty. Francie hurried off to bed, but I knew there was no way I would be able to sleep. I needed to clear my head, attempt to figure out what was going on. Who had broken in? Were they looking for something? Or were they just trying to scare me- a warning?
I pondered where to go, what to do. I needed to do something because I felt uneasy sitting in the ransacked apartment, as if somebody was watching me. I debated going running, getting a cup of coffee, calling Vaughn.
But, for some strange reason, I felt compelled to go to SD-6. I felt like I needed to be in the office, needed to speak with Sloane. See his face.
The parking garage at Credit Dauphine was eerily silent as I pulled my car into a space near the front. 5:45 am. Among the few cars scattered across the lot, I recognized Marshall's and Sloane's. It didn't surprise me that either of them were at work at this time of day.
The halls of SD-6 were a scene similar to the garage. A few agents sat at their desks, sipping coffee, silently pecking away at their keyboards. I strode past my desk without hesitation, deciding to talk to Sloane right away.
As I approached his office, I could see him through the open door; he looked tired, worn. Tie disheveled, a five-o'clock shadow gracing his chin, he looked up, his eyes met mine, and a certain look crossed his face. Surprise, maybe, but knowing. And smug..
"Sydney," he said slowly, rising out of his chair. "Come in, sit down." I entered his office and the glass doors swished shut behind me, completely blocking out the rest of the office.
"You're back early," he said, almost warmly, taking a sip out of a plain white mug. "How was your time off?"
"It was nice-relaxing," I said evenly, studying his face as I spoke. A complete poker face. "But I decided to cut it short. Which was probably a fortunate decision on my part since my home was broken into last night."
As I said this, Sloane shifted in his chair, leaning back to cross his legs. "It was? What happened?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"I'm not really sure. My roommate and I were awoken by sounds in the middle of the night; we found the apartment completely ransacked."
Sloane's expression didn't change at all; no sign of surprise, shock, sympathy, nothing. His eyes simply stared straight ahead, into my eyes. "That's unusual," he said. "Was anything taken?"
"Not that we know of," I replied slowly, trying to maintain an even composure. "The police think it was just a random break in, but that the robbers got scared off when we woke up."
"Hmm," Sloane said, taking another sip of his coffee. His eyes met mine again, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "It is fortunate then, that you decided to come home early. I'd hate to think what would have happened to your roommate, or your apartment, if you hadn't been there."
I lifted an eyebrow at his comments. Was that a veiled threat?
"Is there anything else you'd wanted to talk about, Sydney?"
I shook my head and forced a smile. "No, everything's fine,"
"I'm glad to hear that," he said, smiling at me again. "I'm sorry you weren't able to enjoy your entire vacation, but since you're back, you might as well get started up again. Marshall has some new tech he'd like to go over with you. Maybe you'd be able to see him now."
I nodded and rose, smiling down at Sloane. "That sounds good. I'll go see him right away."
He nodded. "Good to have you back, Sydney. And if you need to talk any more.you know where to find me."
My day back at SD-6 was as normal as it could be, and I was out of the office by 5:30. But instead of going home, I set out for the warehouse. I needed to tell Vaughn about what had happened.
I arrived to find him pacing, as I often did. I had dropped a paper bag at lunch telling him that I urgently needed to see him, and I was sure he was thinking the worse.
"Syd," he said as soon as I came into view. "What happened? Are you okay?"
I nodded, brushing my hair back with my hand nervously. "Yeah, I'm fine. My house was broken into last night."
"What?!" he exclaimed, a look of panic crossing his face. "Who was it? Was anyone hurt?"
"No, no one was hurt.and I have no idea who it was," I said. "Francie and I were woken up by crashing sounds in the middle of the night and found the apartment ransacked. We don't think anything was taken, but-"
"But what?" he asked desperately.
"I went back into my room and found this on my dresser." I pulled the note out of my pocket and handed it to Vaughn, who read it silently. "The scary part is.whoever left this note was in my room while I was sleeping. And I have no idea what they were doing, what they wanted."
He sighed. "Shit.this is getting scary, Syd."
"I know," I said quietly, looking at the ground. "I.I have no idea what to do. I have no idea what the hell these people want. I'm starting to get desperate."
We stood in silence for I don't know how long. Seconds? Minutes? Tears started to well up in my eyes, and I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat as I spoke.
"I.I, Vaughn, I just don't know what to do," I said, my voice quivering. "I mean, how long is this going to go on for? How far are these people going to take it? I mean, they're taking Francie's money, somehow.they're breaking into my house.and I don't even know what they want. I haven't even been given the chance to give them what they want, and I.I just don't know what to do."
As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I stared at the cold cement floor as tears rolled down my face and fell silently to the ground. I didn't want Vaughn to see me cry like this. I didn't want him to see me break.
When I finally looked up, Vaughn was just staring at me, his eyes sad. He jammed his hands into his pockets, obviously uncomfortable, but his gaze never broke from mine.
"Syd.I truly have no idea what to do. We can't tell the CIA; you can't tell SD-6. I don't know what we're supposed to do. Wait? I just don't know."
The expression on his face almost brought me to tears again. He looked so sad, so desperate.I had never seen anyone care that much about me. I wanted to hug him, to reassure him that everything would be okay, the way he had reassured me so many times before. But I stood, motionless, just staring at him.
Vaughn looked up at me and I shifted my gaze quickly, embarrassed that I had been staring at him for so long. "I should go.Francie will wonder where I am." He nodded.
"You don't want to worry her by being gone too long." I nodded. "But.if you need anything, tonight, tomorrow, whenever, you know where to reach me." A slight smile crossed my lips.
"I'll see you soon," I said simply, and turned to walk away. I felt drained, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And now I had to go home and put on my façade for Francie and Will. I didn't know much longer I could take it.
As I approached my car, parked down an empty alley, I noticed a large manila envelope on my windshield. I started to tremble again as I walked slowly to the car, expecting someone to jump out and grab me.
Hands shaking, I removed the envelope and opened it slowly. A stack of photos sat inside: large 8x10s, black and white. The mission in Moscow, me with the CIA team, inside the building. The previous night, Francie and I huddled together in our destroyed apartment.
A single photo of me, standing alone, holding the note that had been left on my dresser.
Chapter Three
"You've been invited to tear down this locked, secret door. There ain't no doubt, they'll take you out, and all you're about, Dodging these daggers they throw at you."
I peered down the dark hallway, searching for something, anything. I heard a door slam, then silence.
Nothing.
Balling my hands into tight fists, I took a hesitant step out of my doorway, expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. All I could hear were the sounds of my frantic breathing; the house was completely silent.
"Syd?" I jumped at the sound of my name and whirled around quickly. Francie stumbled towards me, her eyes still half-closed. "Syd, what's going on? I thought I heard something."
"So did I," I breathed, my eyes darting about as they grew accustomed to the darkness. Fairly certain that no one was still in the apartment, I stepped slowly into the living room, Francie right behind me.
Throwing on the light switch, my breath caught in my throat at what I saw. The room was torn apart. Couches ripped to shreds, tables turned over, our television shattered, shards of glass where windows once were. Completely ransacked.
"Oh my God!" Francie shrieked behind me, and I could feel my stomach drop to the floor. "Syd, Syd, oh my God, we've been robbed!"
I tuned out Francie's cries as I walked slowly around the room, my eyes mechanically surveying the destruction. It was clear that nothing was missing. It wasn't a robbery.
"Francie, go put on some shoes," I told her, my voice expressing no emotion. "I don't want you to cut your feet on all this glass." I hurried back to my room and slid into my slippers, glancing around quickly. The room was completely undisturbed. I picked up the cordless phone on my bedside and hesitated at who to call. Vaughn? My father? Instead, I dialed 911, calmly telling the operator that my house had been robbed. Best to play dumb.
As I told the operator what had happened-woken up by a crashing sound, living room torn apart-a small flash of white on my dresser caught my eye. A small piece of paper propped against my jewelry box. I delicately picked it up and after a moment of hesitation, unfolded it.
It read simply, 'We know who you are.'
I paced around slowly as the police searched the room, the blue and red lights from their patrol cars bouncing across the walls. A couple of officers were talking with Francie, probably getting a statement, and I was left to pace.
Approaching our bookshelf, my gaze fell upon the shattered picture frames.images of me Francie, and Will; happier times. Destroyed. I thought bitterly that the symbolism was quite ironic. Foreshadowing, perhaps.
"Miss?" a voice came from behind. I whirled around and saw the officer speaking to me. He was an older man, kind looking, but with a certain quality to his face. Worry lines surrounded his tired eyes, as if he had seen far too much in his time. Reminded me of my father.
He asked me what had happened, and I told him exactly what did, glancing around the room nervously as I spoke.
"And that was it, Miss Bristow?" he questioned, looking at me from above his wire-rimmed glasses. "None of the other rooms were touched? Absolutely nothing?"
"No," I said softly, my fingers brushing the note that rested in my pocket. "Nothing at all."
The officers looked around our apartment for about an hour more as Francie and I huddled together in a corner, out of the way, barely speaking. By the time they finished up, it was almost five in the morning. But I wasn't having any problems staying awake.
After most of the officers had left, the one that reminded me of my father approached us, looking sympathetic. "I know it's late, ladies, and I think we're done. We dusted for prints and nothing came up. Since nothing is missing, there's not much we can do.we have virtually no evidence. I think it would be safe to assume that the perpetrator had the intention of robbing you, but was scared off when you woke up."
I nodded. Oh, how I wished it were that simple.
"Have you noticed anything unusual in the past few days? Any suspicious activity, suspicious persons outside of your house, anything of the sort?"
I shook my head, but Francie got a scared look in her eyes. "A few days ago, all the money from one of my bank accounts went missing. I assumed it was a bank error, or something.but they said they didn't know anything about it." She gasped. "You don't think that could have anything to do with it, do you?"
The officer sighed, shaking his head. "Gosh.wow. It very well could. I don't know how, though. Have you ladies pissed anyone off lately?"
Ha. Ha. If only he knew.
He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable that neither of us cracked a smile. "Well.that's certainly something we want to look into. I'll tell you what. It's late. Why don't you come down to the station tomorrow and fill out a statement about your bank account? We'll see if we can't get that figured out. All right?"
We nodded and said goodnight, our apartment finally empty. Francie hurried off to bed, but I knew there was no way I would be able to sleep. I needed to clear my head, attempt to figure out what was going on. Who had broken in? Were they looking for something? Or were they just trying to scare me- a warning?
I pondered where to go, what to do. I needed to do something because I felt uneasy sitting in the ransacked apartment, as if somebody was watching me. I debated going running, getting a cup of coffee, calling Vaughn.
But, for some strange reason, I felt compelled to go to SD-6. I felt like I needed to be in the office, needed to speak with Sloane. See his face.
The parking garage at Credit Dauphine was eerily silent as I pulled my car into a space near the front. 5:45 am. Among the few cars scattered across the lot, I recognized Marshall's and Sloane's. It didn't surprise me that either of them were at work at this time of day.
The halls of SD-6 were a scene similar to the garage. A few agents sat at their desks, sipping coffee, silently pecking away at their keyboards. I strode past my desk without hesitation, deciding to talk to Sloane right away.
As I approached his office, I could see him through the open door; he looked tired, worn. Tie disheveled, a five-o'clock shadow gracing his chin, he looked up, his eyes met mine, and a certain look crossed his face. Surprise, maybe, but knowing. And smug..
"Sydney," he said slowly, rising out of his chair. "Come in, sit down." I entered his office and the glass doors swished shut behind me, completely blocking out the rest of the office.
"You're back early," he said, almost warmly, taking a sip out of a plain white mug. "How was your time off?"
"It was nice-relaxing," I said evenly, studying his face as I spoke. A complete poker face. "But I decided to cut it short. Which was probably a fortunate decision on my part since my home was broken into last night."
As I said this, Sloane shifted in his chair, leaning back to cross his legs. "It was? What happened?" he asked, sounding concerned.
"I'm not really sure. My roommate and I were awoken by sounds in the middle of the night; we found the apartment completely ransacked."
Sloane's expression didn't change at all; no sign of surprise, shock, sympathy, nothing. His eyes simply stared straight ahead, into my eyes. "That's unusual," he said. "Was anything taken?"
"Not that we know of," I replied slowly, trying to maintain an even composure. "The police think it was just a random break in, but that the robbers got scared off when we woke up."
"Hmm," Sloane said, taking another sip of his coffee. His eyes met mine again, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "It is fortunate then, that you decided to come home early. I'd hate to think what would have happened to your roommate, or your apartment, if you hadn't been there."
I lifted an eyebrow at his comments. Was that a veiled threat?
"Is there anything else you'd wanted to talk about, Sydney?"
I shook my head and forced a smile. "No, everything's fine,"
"I'm glad to hear that," he said, smiling at me again. "I'm sorry you weren't able to enjoy your entire vacation, but since you're back, you might as well get started up again. Marshall has some new tech he'd like to go over with you. Maybe you'd be able to see him now."
I nodded and rose, smiling down at Sloane. "That sounds good. I'll go see him right away."
He nodded. "Good to have you back, Sydney. And if you need to talk any more.you know where to find me."
My day back at SD-6 was as normal as it could be, and I was out of the office by 5:30. But instead of going home, I set out for the warehouse. I needed to tell Vaughn about what had happened.
I arrived to find him pacing, as I often did. I had dropped a paper bag at lunch telling him that I urgently needed to see him, and I was sure he was thinking the worse.
"Syd," he said as soon as I came into view. "What happened? Are you okay?"
I nodded, brushing my hair back with my hand nervously. "Yeah, I'm fine. My house was broken into last night."
"What?!" he exclaimed, a look of panic crossing his face. "Who was it? Was anyone hurt?"
"No, no one was hurt.and I have no idea who it was," I said. "Francie and I were woken up by crashing sounds in the middle of the night and found the apartment ransacked. We don't think anything was taken, but-"
"But what?" he asked desperately.
"I went back into my room and found this on my dresser." I pulled the note out of my pocket and handed it to Vaughn, who read it silently. "The scary part is.whoever left this note was in my room while I was sleeping. And I have no idea what they were doing, what they wanted."
He sighed. "Shit.this is getting scary, Syd."
"I know," I said quietly, looking at the ground. "I.I have no idea what to do. I have no idea what the hell these people want. I'm starting to get desperate."
We stood in silence for I don't know how long. Seconds? Minutes? Tears started to well up in my eyes, and I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat as I spoke.
"I.I, Vaughn, I just don't know what to do," I said, my voice quivering. "I mean, how long is this going to go on for? How far are these people going to take it? I mean, they're taking Francie's money, somehow.they're breaking into my house.and I don't even know what they want. I haven't even been given the chance to give them what they want, and I.I just don't know what to do."
As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I stared at the cold cement floor as tears rolled down my face and fell silently to the ground. I didn't want Vaughn to see me cry like this. I didn't want him to see me break.
When I finally looked up, Vaughn was just staring at me, his eyes sad. He jammed his hands into his pockets, obviously uncomfortable, but his gaze never broke from mine.
"Syd.I truly have no idea what to do. We can't tell the CIA; you can't tell SD-6. I don't know what we're supposed to do. Wait? I just don't know."
The expression on his face almost brought me to tears again. He looked so sad, so desperate.I had never seen anyone care that much about me. I wanted to hug him, to reassure him that everything would be okay, the way he had reassured me so many times before. But I stood, motionless, just staring at him.
Vaughn looked up at me and I shifted my gaze quickly, embarrassed that I had been staring at him for so long. "I should go.Francie will wonder where I am." He nodded.
"You don't want to worry her by being gone too long." I nodded. "But.if you need anything, tonight, tomorrow, whenever, you know where to reach me." A slight smile crossed my lips.
"I'll see you soon," I said simply, and turned to walk away. I felt drained, physically, mentally, and emotionally. And now I had to go home and put on my façade for Francie and Will. I didn't know much longer I could take it.
As I approached my car, parked down an empty alley, I noticed a large manila envelope on my windshield. I started to tremble again as I walked slowly to the car, expecting someone to jump out and grab me.
Hands shaking, I removed the envelope and opened it slowly. A stack of photos sat inside: large 8x10s, black and white. The mission in Moscow, me with the CIA team, inside the building. The previous night, Francie and I huddled together in our destroyed apartment.
A single photo of me, standing alone, holding the note that had been left on my dresser.