Author's note- I own nothing and make no profit. Thank you for reading. Enjoy.

Chapter 6

Mariella took long, slow, deep breaths in an effort to calm her terror. She had cried. She had pleaded with the men to tell her where they were going, why they had taken her, what was going to happen. But neither man spoke to her or to each other.

The scarred man sat on the floor of the van across from her and stared at her coldly. His arm was draped across his knees with the gun held casually, pointed at the floor. Through the back window, she could see that they were on the highway, but could not tell where or even what direction they were traveling in. Her heart was fluttering so quickly in her chest, that she felt like she couldn't breathe fast enough to keep up with it.

To distract herself from the fear that was threatening to envelop her, Mariella thought about one of her favorite television shows. It was based around behavioral experts who could "read" expressions and body language and predict the person's feelings, intentions and even detect their lies. Every movement of the face and body, either overt or subtle was a wealth of information for these characters. Though it was a fictional series, Mariella knew that it was based on scientific truth. She wondered if she too could interpret subtle clues to the intentions of her captors. She looked at the scarred man directly insuring eye contact, and asked the question that was foremost in her mind.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The scarred man blinked. He did not reply. What did that mean? She felt tears rolling down her cheeks.

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Eliot weaved in and out of the traffic, dodging the other cars by inches and earning himself some horn blares and a few rude gestures. He noticed none of this, completely focused on catching up with the van that held Mariella. The tires of his truck squealed as he made a too sharp turn onto the ramp leading to route 93 south.

"Ok, Hardison. I am on the highway. Where are they?"

"The van is passing through Milton. They are in the center lane so it doesn't look like they are planning on taking the Milton exit."

"Got it. Any idea what their destination might be?"

"No. SJW manages a few properties south of Boston. Could be one of them. Could be none of them. I just got you on traffic cam. I would guess that you are roughly 7 miles behind them."

"Not for long," Eliot said softly."

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"Sophie. Call Wilde and see if you can get him out of the office before Parker gets there."

Sophie nodded at Nate and retreated into the next room where it was quiet. She dialed the number and was relieved when he answered immediately.

"Hello?"

"Ken, this is Catherine. I hope you don't think this is forward of me, you know, calling so soon."

"Not at all, Catherine. It is a pleasure to hear from you."

"You are such a sweetie! Listen, I am calling because an interesting prospect just came to my attention. It is an investment opportunity and promises to be quite lucrative. It is in the medical field, so naturally I thought of you. Its time sensitive, though. If you wanted to get in on this, it would need to be today, I'm afraid. Might you be interested?"

"I am intrigued, Catherine. Tell me more."

"Oh, darling, there are so many details. Could you meet me, perhaps? If you could come by my office, that would be wonderful. I am all alone here today and I would really love to see you."

"When?"

"Now? Is that possible? I would hate for you to miss this opportunity. Oh, call me silly, but I feel that you and I could be very good together."

"I agree. Text me the address and I am on my way."

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Hardison's fingers flew over the keyboard. Normally, hacking traffic cams wasn't much of a challenge for him. But the van was traveling fast and Eliot even faster. He was lucky to catch a quick glimpse of each vehicle before it passed. Alternating between vehicles and cameras was a carefully choreographed dance. He was so intent on the process that seconds passed before he registered Eliot's question.

"Hardison. How close am I?"

"You are both in Weymouth. He is about two exits ahead of you, that's about two miles."

"What's after Weymouth?"

"Hingham. Pembroke. Then Marshfield. Eliot, listen. SJW doesn't have any properties that far south. I don't know where they are going."

"Marshfield," Nate said.

"Marshfield?" Not for the first time, Hardison wondered how Nate came to these conclusions. Crystal ball, maybe? He considered himself to be an intelligent man. But Nate…the guy was spooky smart. "Why? There really ain't nothing much in Marshfield. It's pretty rural. Why would they be taking Mariella to Marshfield?"

Nate did not answer, but Eliot did. Hardison felt a chill at his reply.

"It's a body drop."

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"I'm in." Parker's voice whispered over the earbuds.

"Good," Nate responded. "Can you get into his computer?"

"No."

"Mama, I can help you break the password." Hardison said.

"Well thanks, but that would only be helpful if there actually was a computer. There is a power cord here that looks like it would fit a laptop. I think he took it with him."

Nate cursed under his breath. He turned to Hardison and Sophie. Hardison was focused on the computer but Sophie gazed back at him with trust, waiting for his next move. The problem was, he didn't have a next move. And if he didn't come up with something fast, the mark might get away with everything and their client might lose her life.

"Parker, can you…" Nate stopped when he heard new sounds over the earbud. A door knob rattled briefly and after a few seconds, a female voice, that was most definitely not Parker's, spoke.

"Who are you? How did you get in here? I am calling Security."

Parker's earbud went silent.

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Beth pounded at her keyboard, stopped, made a correction and pounded some more. After the fifth time she had to correct a typo, she gave up on finishing the report. It was just no use. She was too stressed to concentrate. The bank had called her at work about the mortgage. The bank officer was calm, polite and professional but the message was clear. They were threatening foreclosure. She had been harboring a secret hope that she might receive a holiday bonus which perhaps could be enough to hold back the foreclosure for at least a few more weeks. That would be a Christmas miracle indeed, considering that she was employed by a particularly mean Scrooge.

While nothing was ever said to Beth directly, she had occasion to note that not everything at SJW Management was as it seemed. Financial numbers did not always add up and often were altered in some inexplicable ways. Some months ago, she had decided that it would be prudent to get herself away from this company. She feared that the authorities might come knocking at the door some day and she did not want to be a part of any illegal or even questionable activities. Unfortunately, the job market was scarce and Beth knew that her boss would be vindictive enough to deny her a reference. Her daughter's hospital bills and the always tardy mortgage payments combined to trap her in her current unpleasant and disconcerting job situation.

No. There really was no point in trying to finish this report. Beth saved her work and closed the file. It wasn't as if Scott would even know it wasn't finished- he had taken off once again, leaving her to cancel all of his afternoon appointments. The smarmy grin on his face when he left suggested that he was deferring work to meet with one of his many women. Her shift was almost over anyway, so she might as well wrap things up. First, she should find and wash his coffee cup. He was very particular about that cup, and naturally never bothered to rinse it himself.

Beth opened his office door and was several steps in before she registered that she was not alone. Shock paralyzed her for a few seconds. There was no other door to Scott's office except the one behind her desk. No one had passed her and she had not left the desk all afternoon. How was this possible?

Standing at Scott's desk, was a slim, pretty woman wearing a Santa hat over her long blond hair.

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"Nate! I think I got a visual. They are getting off at the Marshfield exit."

"Stay on them, Eliot. If they get away…" Nate's voice drifted off. When he noticed the concern on Sophie's face and Hardison's tense body language, he opted to leave the sentence incomplete.

"I know."

Nate reached up and muted his earbud, before turning to Hardison. "Parker?"

Hardison shook his head. "Looks like she turned off the earbud."

"Dammit. Why would she do that?"

Sophie touched his arm lightly and spoke. "She doesn't want to distract Eliot from saving Mariella."

Hardison stiffened. "But if she's in trouble…"

"If she is in trouble, we have to trust her to take care of herself. There is nothing we can do until she turns that earbud back on so we can assess the situation." Nate poured himself a finger of Jack Daniels and gulped it down.

"Sophie. Change of plans. Get out to the Pro Properties office and meet Wilde. Stall him as long as you can. We need to buy Parker some time."

Nate rubbed his temples where a tension headache was beginning to form. Perhaps he should give more thought to the superstitions of his team. He would certainly not be calling any future jobs easy ever again.

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Beth backed out of Scott's office. Without taking her eyes off the intruder, she fumbled under her desk and hit the panic button. She was skeptical about ever needing that button, and in fact, had found its very existence strange. Who could have guessed that she would ever voluntarily summon Marco and his security thugs?

The woman walked slowly closer, calm and perhaps with an air of curiosity. She tilted her head and spoke.

"Do you like him?"

"What? Who? Get back. I called security."

"Your boss. Do you like him? Is he good to you?"

"I mean it. Stay away from me. The guys from security will be here any second."

"Do you trust him?"

Beth paused. "No. I don't. You should leave now."

"No, you should leave. Your boss is going down. You really don't want to be anywhere near this when it happens."

The door burst open and Marco rushed in, brandishing a gun.

Beth looked at gun and the man holding it. She thought of all the times she avoided being near him. She thought of all the times she failed to avoid him and the uneasiness she felt in his presence. She looked back at the woman in the Santa hat, who was standing there looking relaxed and serene, and wondered why she should feel more trust for a stranger in a Santa hat than her own security guard.

"Beth. What's going on? Who is she?"

"Sorry, Marco. False alarm. I bumped into the button accidentally."

Marco narrowed his eyes as if he sensed a lie. "And her? Who is she?"

Beth shrugged. She smirked at Marco and whispered "Just another one of the boss' lady friends.

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The van stopped. The scarred man opened the side door and gestured to Mariella. Leaving the van was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but the look on his face made it clear that resistance would be a poor choice. She slid across the cold metal floor and climbed out of the van.

They were in a heavily wooded area. The fat man pointed to a barely discernible path through the trees. When she hesitated, he grabbed her upper arm and yanked her forward. Mariella screamed.

"Help! Help me!"

The fat man backhanded her hard across her cheek and she fell backwards and hit the ground with a jarring thud.

"Shut her up."

Mariella flipped over to her hands and knees and tried to stand. She cried out in pain when a heavy blow to her back knocked her face first into the slushy dirt. Her arms were pulled behind her and tightly bound with something rigid and sharp. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, slapping a piece of duct tape across her mouth. Twisting her bound arms cruelly, he hauled her to her feet and pushed her towards the trees.

Mariella heard a metallic rattle behind her. Looking back over her shoulder, she caught a brief glimpse of the scarred man before the other thug shoved her forward again. The scarred man met her eyes and smiled. He was holding a shovel.