Chapter 7

Neal came to, his head throbbing and an insistent and annoying ringing in his ears. He pried his eyes open, noting he was lying at the bottom of the stairs right by the front door and it took him a minute to remember how he'd ended up there, face down on the hardwood floor. He blinked, noticing faint light coming through the living room window as he pushed himself up onto his arms; the sun was coming up – how long had he been lying there, anyway?

His first coherent thought was of Sara, asleep upstairs and he struggled to get to his feet as he mumbled her name under his breath. He wiped his forehead, the familiar metallic scent of blood filling his nostrils as he stumbled to the staircase, grabbing the bannister firmly and pulling himself up the stairs as fast as his legs would allow.

'Sara!' he called out, anxious to lay eyes on his wife.

His voice was met with silence and he sped up, taking the steps two at a time as a horrible premonition came over him.

'Sara!' he screamed louder as he made it to the top of the stairs and turned the corner into their bedroom.

The sight of their empty bed in the early morning light made his blood run cold and panic set in as his breathing became labored.

'SARA!' he screamed.

Maybe she was just in the bathroom…

He stepped on something wet as he reached for the bedside lamp, a vaguely familiar odor filling the room. With the benefit of light, he picked up the rag he'd just stepped on and examined it, the unmistakeable odor of chloroform evident as his worst fears began to take root.

'NO!' he yelled out to no one as he began to grasp what had happened while he'd been lying, unconscious, on the front hall floor.

He did a quick search of the upstairs, running from Caitlin's room to Liam's room with the faint hope he would somehow find his wife there, although he knew deep down that she had somehow been taken away, right from under his nose.

He ran down the stairs, staggering from the pain in his head and began a similar investigation of the main floor, finding everything as they'd left it the night before - everything except the newly repaired patio door which had once again been shattered, shards of glass all over the floor.

Neal stumbled towards the phone, sitting on the kitchen counter, his mind numb, his worse fears coming true as he managed to get his hands to stop shaking long enough to dial the Burke home, the clock on top of the stove the only light in the room.

Peter's groggy voice came on the line, almost as if he'd been expecting Neal's call and he sat up in bed, coming to as he heard his best friend's trembling voice.

'Peter, they were here again… They took Sara!' Neal managed to say, his voice choked.

'What?' came the answer and Neal could hear rustling as Peter likely got out of bed and began to move around.

'Where were your men, Peter? Where were your goddam men?' Neal screamed angrily into the phone, all sense of propriety now absent from his voice.

'Neal, are you hurt?' Peter asked from miles away in Brooklyn.

'No… they knocked me out. I found a rag with chloroform on our bedroom floor and now…. Sara's gone... Peter…' Neal said, his voice halting.

'I'll be right there. I'm calling the police' Peter warned.

'DON'T. YOU. DARE!' Neal screamed as his breathing began to falter.

Peter was breathing heavily at the other end, shock setting in. 'I'm letting the detail know what happened, they'll probably come to the door. Let them in' Peter said, his voice authoritative.

Before Neal could protest, Peter was gone and Neal was left alone in a much too quiet house to think about what had just happened. He grabbed onto the edge of the kitchen table to keep his legs from giving out and let himself fall on a chair before managing to pull himself back up, anxious to get back upstairs to see if the intruders had left any instructions.

He could hear his cell phone vibrating on the nearby kitchen counter where he'd left it to recharge and his eyes went to the screen, terrified of what he might find there.

'Now, do you understand we mean business' Neal read as his eyes widened.

His hands shook violently as he clicked open the attachment, fear griping him as he forced himself to look at the photograph of his beautiful Sara, sitting on a chair, arms tied behind her back, head flopping forward, eyes closed with a large welt on one side of her face. She was wearing the t-shirt and yoga pants she'd worn to bed the night before and he could see a spatter of blood on the front of her shirt as her head drooped listlessly.

Neal tried to keep breathing; he let out a loud gasp followed by a soulless moan that came unbidden from deep inside his gut. He leaned over, unable to stay upright any longer and without warning, his stomach lurched and he proceeded to throw up at his feet, an uncensored whimper escaping from his constricted throat.

WCWCWC

As special agent in charge of the detail which had been deployed to the Caffrey home, Clinton Jones arrived shortly after 7:00 to investigate what had happened. Although the case was off book, Neal remained a part-time employee of the Federal Bureau, helping out on cases from time to time and by that token, he was entitled to protection as needed from the White Collar Unit. Peter watched as an irate Jones questioned the agents who had been entrusted with Neal and Sara's safety, the senior agent's voice loud enough to be heard echoing through the house.

The break-in had been professionally staged and the intruders had come in from one of the neighbors' backyards, moving stealthily in the night, undetected by the two surveillance teams which had been positioned at the front of the house.

Neal sat at the kitchen table, still in shock, with both Peter and Elizabeth at his side as Jones proceeded to chastise the four men who had been on duty.

'Peter…' Neal murmured, his voice quiet and broken '...make them leave.'

No matter the detailed explanations or the apologies, it was too late for Sara who was now in the clutches of ruthless men on a godless mission.

Peter stood and made his way to the group of men, some he remembered from his many years at the Bureau, and he led them out, asking Jones to finish doling out the tongue lashing somewhere else.

'I'm sorry Caffrey' Jones said somberly as he followed the men out. Neal stared ahead, unable to acknowledge his presence, let alone his apology and he dropped his head in his hands as he tried to compose himself.

He'd made the ill advised decision not to call the police on the mistaken impression that would keep his loved ones safe and now, he had to face the fact that his poor judgement had led to Sara being taken away in the middle of the night while he lay helplessly nearby, letting it happen.

This was on him and he needed to find a way to get her back unharmed – although it seemed even too late for that.

Elizabeth's hand rested on Neal's back as he sat at the kitchen table reeling from the image of his wife in the clutches of thugs – men who were trained to get what they were after, no matter the cost. They'd done away with Brenda Foster without blinking an eye and he knew that they would not hesitate to kill anyone else who got in their way. He shuddered as Elizabeth continued to rub his back, intent on keeping him grounded and not letting him give in to the worse case scenarios that were likely running through his mind.

Despite his protestations, El cleaned the wound on the back of his head and after a cup of coffee and a shower – which he'd taken at Elizabeth's insistence – Neal changed into clean clothes as they all waited for the other shoe to drop. His mind was clearer now; he had moved on from the paralyzing shock he'd felt earlier and was now in action mode, prepared to do whatever it took to get his wife back home safe and sound.

The kidnappers wanted only one thing and it wasn't Sara, Peter kept reminding Neal. She was merely a bargaining chip, a means to an end and Peter was insistent that it was time to bring in Homeland Security to see how they could negotiate Sara's safe return.

Neal remained unconvinced and before they could come to a consensus, his phone rang once again and Peter watched as Neal put the call on speaker.

'Have we managed to convince you?' the voice said.

'You have my attention' Neal answered, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice.

'Which part of 'don't call the police' didn't you understand?' the man growled as Neal's eyes met Peter's. ''Did you think we wouldn't spot those buffoons stationed in front of your house?'

Neal swallowed hard; all he wanted was to know which state Sara was in.

'Can I talk to my wife' he croaked.

'You don't get to call the shots' the man replied.

'Well, apparently, I have something you want... how do I know she's... alive' Neal added as Peter cringed, staring back at his best friend; he was playing an awfully dangerous game, pushing these guys.

They could hear some muffled noises on the other end and suddenly, some heavy breathing was heard over the line.

'N…N...Neal?' came Sara's weak and barely recognizable voice.

'Baby… are you hurt?' Neal asked, his voice suddenly full of emotion.

'I don't… I… I… don't think… so' she answered breathlessly, sounding dazed.

'I'm going to fix this, okay? You just stay strong and I'll come and get you and bring you home' Neal managed to say before his voice gave out.

He heard Sara let out a plaintive moan and before he could say anything more, the abductor's voice was back on the line.

'Now, what are you going to do for us?' he said.

'You need to tell me what it is you want' Neal said, eyes trained on Peter.

'Don't be such an ass; right before we killed her, Brenda Foster told us she'd given you the flash drive for safekeeping' the man said. 'You've got until tonight to get it to us or we'll do a lot more than sedate your lovely wife. We'll call with instructions. Tick tock!'

'Wait…' Neal said as the call ended.

WCWCWC

'Why would she tell them she gave it to me for safekeeping?' Neal asked out loud as he continued to pace.

'It doesn't make any sense' Peter agreed.

Jones had returned and he'd been filled in on the details. 'She stood to make a lot of money on this deal...but the two buyers were trying to outbid each other. Maybe she needed to buy some time while she figured out what to do' he commented.

'What? You think she actually slipped it to me?' Neal asked, his mind returning to that night and the brief contact he'd had with Brenda Foster.

'What if she wanted to keep negotiating... you know, to drive the price up' Peter mused.

'If that was the case, she couldn't afford to keep it on her' Jones added.

'But I would have known if she'd...' Neal began before he stopped suddenly, memories of that night flooding back. '… she hugged me…' he added as a little light went on in his eyes.

'What?' both Peter and Jones said simultaneously.

'She hugged me!' Neal repeated triumphantly as he took off running for the stairs.

Peter and Jones stared at each other, mouths wide open. Was Neal losing it?

Neal stepped into the bedroom, ignoring the rumpled sheets on the bed where Sara had likely struggled against the intruders and he fought to remain focussed. He headed straight for the closet, rummaging through his suits, madly trying to remember what he'd been wearing that night.

Peter sat at the kitchen table as Jones paced, waiting for Neal to return. Whatever 'haha' moment he'd just had seemed to have led him to an important realization. Neal's thunderous footsteps were heard coming down the stairs and suddenly, he stood before them, a strange, victorious look on his face.

'Got it!' he exclaimed as he held up a flash drive in his hand.

TBC