Hey guys :) Thanks so much for the great response from all of you - I never expected so many reviews! Thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoy :)
Kyle fished out his phone as he walked towards school the next morning. Burning questions about what had happened to his father were preying on his mind, and he needed answers.
"Calleigh Duquense," came the answer.
"Calleigh, it's Kyle."
"Hey, how are you? Is everything okay?" Kyle heard worry creep into her voice. "Is Horatio okay?"
Kyle sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I presume you knew about the scars on his back?"
She echoed his sigh. "Yes, I did."
"What happened to him?" Kyle asked furiously, trying to keep his rage in check. "He told me that was what's causing his nightmares – which you also knew about?" He couldn't keep the accusation out of his voice that time.
"I'm sorry, Kyle." She sounded sincere. "But Horatio confided in me. It's not my story to tell. And you have to understand, this is really painful for him."
There was a long pause as Kyle considered her words. He smiled bitterly. "I've only just scraped the surface, haven't I?" It was more of a statement than a question.
"I know he doesn't make it easy," she said sympathetically. "But he'll come round… Just don't give up on him."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm sorry, I just want to help him."
"I understand. And believe me, you're doing all you can."
"Could… Could you try and speak to him?" Kyle asked hesitatingly.
"Already tried, Kyle. I'm afraid Horatio's stubborn streak has kicked it up a notch this year. But I'll keep trying."
"Thanks. Try and send him home early today? For me?"
"You got it."
"Lieutenant Caine?"
Horatio turned. "Mr Ross," he acknowledged gently. "What can I do for you?"
The man looked awful. His shoulders were hunched, as if he wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself and hide away from the world's prying eyes. His head was bowed, causing his spiked fringe to flop forward and cast shadows across his face. He clasped his hands together anxiously, desperate green eyes flicking up to meet Horatio's understanding blue ones as he tried to form a coherent sentence. "Lieutenant, I – well, I just – "
"Why don't we take a seat?" suggested Horatio, and began to steer the man gently over to a nearby seating area, a guiding hand on his upper arm.
Horatio empathised with Graham Ross. His fifteen-year-old daughter had been missing for three days and the team had very little clues to go on, aside from a lone sighting on a quiet street corner, her figure just entering the CCTV frame.
The both sat down. "I take it this is about Connie, Mr Ross," Horatio prompted.
"Please, call me Graham," he said. "I think… I think I know who's taken her, and why she hasn't been in touch."
"Okay," Horatio said, appearing quietly encouraging whist simultaneously keen for some answers in order to find the girl.
Graham took a deep breath before continuing. "It's my brother. N-Neil. Neil Ross."
"Okay," Horatio said again, only mild traces of surprise in his eyes. "Is it possible Connie's in danger?" he asked urgently.
Graham looked lost. "Er, maybe? It's possible… Oh god, I don't know!" he cried, dropping his head into his hands.
Horatio placed a sympathetic hand on the man's tense shoulder, also reaching into his pocket for his cell and pressing speed dial. "Eric, it's Horatio. I want a search on Neil Ross, Graham's brother; he may have Connie. Dig up his background and find out if it's likely she's in danger, call me if you get anything."
He listened intently to what the team had gathered so far – sadly, not much more – before giving his final commands and snapping the phone shut and slipping it back into his pocket. He turned back to Graham. "We'll find him. Graham I need to know, why would your brother take Connie?"
Graham visibly pieced himself together with a shuddering breath before the words poured out. "Well, Neil and I have never had a good relationship. Scratch that, we've never had a relationship," he sighed. "Our parents divorced and things just got worse. We lived with different parents and grew up individually, but he always resented me – I've always been the more successful." He smiled wryly. "I've offered him a job in my company, and even money so that he could kick-start his own, or just buy a decent place, but he always ignored me. It used to tear me apart, but then I had Connie." He smiled again at this point – genuinely, and Horatio reciprocated slightly as he saw a part of himself reflected in front of him.
Because they both understood. They both understood what being a parent meant; how it made them love life so much more, care about the world so much more, and how it brought a richness to their lives that they never believed possible.
Horatio squeezed Graham's arm lightly, coaxing the man back into reality.
He caught the lieutenant's eyes and smiled apologetically. "Sorry."
Horatio smiled. "Not at all. Go on."
"I knew he envied me. I offered for him to visit, but he pushed me further away. I was happy, and he wasn't. We've not spoken in years," he admitted regretfully. "Then one day, Connie left her Facebook up on the computer. I looked – I was curious. As a parent, you know?"
Horatio nodded understandingly.
"There were messages between her and Neil. They were totally harmless, so I left it. I figured maybe Connie could bring us back together." A tear slipped down his cheek, "I never thought it would escalate into this."
"Graham, is it possible that Neil would harm Connie to get to you?" Horatio asked cautiously.
He laughed humourlessly. "He sort of already has. Connie has become so distant, lately – acting almost exactly like Neil. We've argued; she'd come out with these random, unexplained accusations. I thought it might just have been The Teenage Phase, me being a single, inexperienced parent and all. He's fed her lies and turned her against me," he concluded bitterly. "I just want her back." The last part came out in a whisper.
"I promise you, Graham, I'll find her," he said with conviction and sincerity.
Graham smiled slightly. "Do you have children, Lieutenant?"
Horatio dipped his head. "A son, Kyle. Single parent myself, actually."
"How old?"
"Sixteen."
"Then you understand," said Graham, and he seemed to be more at peace. He turned to Horatio with a serious expression. "Don't add to my mistakes, Lieutenant. Kids can be so easily led. Don't even chance losing him – tell him everything."
Horatio simply nodded, placing a calloused hand on Graham's knee in silent support as tears cascaded down the man's cheeks. He forced himself to ignore the significance of the man's words.
"Hang in there, I'll find her."
It was a couple of hours later when Kyle set off home. The roads were silent. Dusk was setting in and the warm sunset painted half of the sky, waging a losing war with the engulfing eclipse of night.
He stuck in his iPod and shrugged his bag over his shoulder, wishing he'd brought his bike – the walk home seemed so long, and it only took five or ten minutes to cycle.
It was about three or four streets later when Kyle had a hunch he was being followed.
A group of three men were tailing Kyle at a distance, walking almost in unison. Large hoodies swamped their forms, the hoods pulled up and hanging over their faces, concealing them in the shadows. Their shoulders were hunched forward menacingly, hands stuffed into the large, single pockets that stretched across their midsections.
Trying to avoid attention. Inconspicuous. But there was something threatening about them. Every so often one of them would raise their heads and look straight ahead with sharp eyes, locking on their target.
Kyle.
He was alone and exposed, and he knew it. He bet they knew it, too. He'd never considered himself paranoid before, but the way every one of his senses were tingling with warning suggested otherwise. Inwardly, his head was still in denial: you have no proof they're actually following you, he told himself. He reached for his iPod, pretending to change the song but pausing the music instead, allowing him to listen to their echoing footsteps.
The upcoming turn on his left prompted a decision.
It was a small narrow street that led onto the final main road that eventually reached home. It was a quiet shortcut, but for some reason Kyle had rarely used it.
He knew he was close to home, and that he had never seen anyone walk down that street unless they were a drunken student tumbling home to their rotting flat after a night on the town – which these men clearly weren't. They would have no need to take this street. Calm down, Kyle.
He reached the street, turning the corner and slipping out of sight. But the uneasy feeling refused to leave him. Still freaked, he whipped out his phone and hurriedly typed his location into a text to Horatio. You're overreacting, he told himself, about a third of the way down the deserted lane.
The three hooded figures turned the corner. Kyle instantly felt their piercing gaze on his back; now he was worried. Careful to still appear relaxed, his eyes flicked up to look at his surroundings – maybe he could knock on someone's front door, pretend to know them. But all that surrounded him was a bunch of derelict flats. He knew that, even if anyone actually lived there, it would take them forever to answer the door. They would catch him.
Looking back down at the phone in his hand, his location still displayed across the screen, Kyle quickly added two words to the end of the text before sending it off to his father.
Come quick.