Chapter Seven

Both Karen and Jim shook their heads.

Jim answered, "No, Boss, he took Sophie, there's no doubt." Jim turned to Karen. "He's not just a good liar?"

"No, Jim, he looks like he's got a clear conscience, maybe he doesn't understand - like a kid." She looked at the Lieutenant, seeking confirmation of what she was seeing.

Fisk nodded. As a team, Jim and Karen were excellent with children, but this man had imprisoned Karen and assaulted Jim.

"If his conscience is clear, it's because he doesn't have one." Jim made an unsatisfied face; trying to reconcile this latest information with the size and strength of the man he had fought. "A kid? How old?"

Karen shrugged, "You know, in the head, Maybe five, maybe eight. I really can't tell."

"Do you think you can get him to talk, Jim?"

"I don't know, Boss, maybe we need a psych consult," Karen looked very unsure.

Jim shook his head and held his hands out, "Karen, there's no time. If he took the other child, we need to know now."

Fisk agreed. A psych would slow everything down, and if this was the man who had abducted those other kids, they had no time to waste.

Karen looked at her partner, frowning. She had watched, helpless, as Jim was beaten mercilessly, and now he was proposing to go back in there and cajole his attacker like a school kid.

"Karen?" Jim prompted.

"Yeah, alright." If anyone could do this, it was Jim. She'd found he had a way of disarming the young ones, and just hoped it would work with the enigma behind them.

Detective Dunbar turned back to the room, he stepped away from the bars and took a seat. He took off his glasses, opened his watch and checked the time. Food could be a great motivator for kids. He smiled at the man who had tried to kill him only hours ago. "You hungry, kid?"

"I'm not a kid!" the huge man jumped up and shouted; his face inches from Jim's. The guards grabbed his arms and made him sit, glancing at the detective and then each other. Detective Dunbar must have felt that shout like a punch in the face but he hadn't even flinched on the outside.

The sergeant began to talk but Fisk silenced him with a glare. He turned back to watch the scene in the cell.

Karen's hand was at her weapon, she stood protectively behind Jim who remained seated. Jim's hands were on the table; the grip on his sunglasses relaxed, as he folded the arms, put the glasses in an inner pocket, and looked up toward the man towering above him.

"You need to sit down, or they'll get angry. You don't want them angry at you do you?" Jim still sounded reasonable, unafraid and unemotional.

"No," the big kid mumbled.

"You won't tell me your name, and you're not a kid, so what are you?" Jim prodded.

"I'm a big guy." The kid looked between Jim and Karen, then back at the guards. Fisk thought he could detect pride in his voice.

Jim smiled. "Okay Big Guy, are you hungry?"

"Yes." The reluctance to talk was evaporating.

"What would you like to eat?"

"French fries?" he sounded hopeful.

Jim turned to his left and spoke over his shoulder, "Sergeant?"

The sergeant looked at Fisk who raised his eyebrows and nodded impatiently.

"Yes, Detective, I'll organize it," the sergeant agreed and hurried off, handing the keys to Fisk as he left.

His voice quiet and slow, Jim continued, "The sergeant will get you some french fries. Will you answer some questions now?"

The man shook his head.

Shoe to shoe, Karen gave Jim the double tap that was their code for a negative answer in an interview. "Why not," Karen asked, "after all, you're getting your fries?" She dropped her pad and pen on the table and sat down, pulling her chair in close to Jim's.

"He hurt me." The man looked at Karen from under his lashes and raised his chin at Jim.

"You got hurt?" Jim asked, feigning a little surprise in his voice.

"Yeah, here." The man pointed to the bandage on the back of his head.

"But you've got a bandage on your head now. So it must be okay right?" Karen answered reasonably. Karen hoped Jim could see the humor here. Most men would have at least had a concussion from the blow Jim had inflicted with the chair. This one had a minor scalp wound; probably bled a lot but nothing more. Fisk smiled, he liked the way Karen fed Jim the information he needed. Subtlety was something she had lacked when she started here, now she was learning it in bucket loads.

The big man looked at Karen suspiciously.

"And you hurt Detective Dunbar, too. So you're even, right?"

"Who?"

She pointed to Jim. "Detective Dunbar; you hurt him." She followed Jim's lead, not accusing, just pointing it out reasonably.

"He hasn't got a bandage," the boy sounded indignant. Karen thought of the taped ribs, the knee filled with pain killers and anti inflamitories. Jim had stripped the taping from his wrist already, but the imprint of the giant hand was clear in the bruise that was beginning to show. Karen blinked, astonished, the man really thought he hadn't hurt Jim.

"Did you try to hurt him?" she asked, digging for at least a confession of the assault on Jim.

"Maybe. He looks okay. No." The kid either didn't remember or was flat out lying. Then he began to giggle.

"What's so funny?" Jim asked, smiling.

"Dective Dumbar. Dective Dumbar, Dective Dumbar. Just like the elephant." He broke into laughter and pointed at Jim. Jim joined in.

"I bet your name's not so dumb, hey?" Jim tried.

The big kid clamped his mouth shut again and looked away from Jim.

Karen looked back at the Lieutenant; this was going to take more time than they wanted. She saw the sergeant arriving, loaded with food; at least he had understood Jim's strategy and was supporting it. "Fries are here."

TBC