Someone is screaming. There's a peculiar shrill quality to the scream that says "little girl" to the experienced listener, but anyone can tell she's frightened. This is not the scream of a child who wants another lolly and can't have one. This is the scream of a child being dangled over a fifty-foot cliff with an alligator-filled pool below.
Sullivan and Hendricks are in the middle of an argument; as the scream registers, both of them close their mouths, grab their guns, and slip out of the room to discover the problem. As it turns out, the problem is not something either of them is expecting.
A small girl with dark hair and blue eyes has wedged herself beneath a desk and is fending off any and all comers with a ruler. Even as they watch, she cracks Thwaite a solid hit across the knuckles. She screams for all she's worth, punctuated with sobs, and the occasional hysterical demand for "Mommy!" or to go home, now.
Sullivan blinks. "Was there a kidnapping scheduled?" he asks.
Hendricks shakes his head, then looks closer at the little girl. "Dresden's daughter," he points out, causing Sullivan to do a double-take of his own.
"Oh, shit. That's not on at all," the barman observes.
Hendricks claps him on the back. "Have fun," he tells the blond before vanishing back into the room.
"Wha – oi!" Sullivan yells, too late. The task of returning the girl home has fallen to him.
His voice attracts the girl's attention, and for just a heartbeat she freezes, her mouth open, stopped mid-scream. Then she flings herself out from under the desk (getting Thwaite another good whack as she does so) and collides with Sullivan's knees. She screams, "FINN! Take me home!" just before bursting into hysterical tears.
Ignoring the looks from Thwaite, Liebegott, and everyone else in the building, Sullivan gently scoops the child up and cradles her against his chest. "Of course, sweetie," he tells her soothingly before directing a death glare at the room at large. "Jacobs," he orders the nearest man, "go tell Mr Marcone I'm bringing Maggie Dresden back to her parents."
The unfortunate Jacobs pales while Sullivan adds, "The rest of you lot get to find out who brought her here and why. I don't particularly care how." The girl buries her face the crook of his neck and clings like a small tick to his shirt. Fortunately, she's stopped sobbing.
Before Sullivan can take her out of the room, though, the newest hire comes up, his face suffused with anger. "Dammit, Sullivan, that's my catch," he snaps, and reaches out to take Maggie. "You get your own bonus!"
Sullivan is the faster of them, and has the longer reach; he moves back, keeping the child out of reach, then pivots and sidesteps, catching Knaps by the back of the shirt and pulling him partly off his feet. "Wrong," he says softly, his tone deadly.
Knaps jerks away and rounds on him. "What the hell do you mean, wrong? I'm the one who saw the opportunity and I'm the one who picked her up!"
In his arms, Maggie shivers and clings tighter, and makes a single, soft whimper.
It's the whimper that does it – Sullivan's own little girl isn't much older than Margaret Dresden, and neither, for that matter, is Hendricks'.
Sullivan steps away from Knaps and nods to Thwaite and Liebegott, who immediately take the new hire into custody. "Congratulations," he says. "You get to have a chat with Hendricks as to why we don't get families involved. And then you'll get to see Mr Marcone."
Knaps goes pale immediately. "What the hell do you..." he starts, before Thwaite rolls his eyes and claps a hand over his mouth.
"Try not to get yourself killed," he recommends over his shoulder, as he and Liebegott steer Knaps out of the room.
Sullivan nods and quits the building, keeping a strong hold on Maggie. "Don't worry, little one," he tells her, gentleness back in his tone. "I'm taking you home right now, but first," he winces slightly, "I need to call your mother and let her know I'm doing it, all right?"
Maggie nods, but refuses to let go of him all the same. Blessedly, she's stopped crying. This call is going to be death-defying enough without her sobbing in the background. Once he reaches his car, he turns to lean against it and pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket, speed-dialling Murphy's number and thanking whatever gods there might be that he had the sense to get the number from Dave's phone.
This is not going to be a pleasant conversation.
She picks up before the first ring is through, and snaps, "Yes, what?" There's an edge of fear to her voice; she's a cop, yes, but she's also a mother whose daughter is missing. This just got harder.
"It's Sullivan," he says softly. "I've got Maggie and I'm bringing her back now." He then holds the phone away from his ear and cringes in anticipation.
There's a heartbeat of silence, then, in the best parade-ground bellow he's ever heard, she shouts, "WHAT?"
Sullivan sighs and asks Maggie, "Do you want to talk to your mother?"
Maggie, who lifted her head from his shoulder at the sound of her mother's voice, nods emphatically and reaches for the phone with one hand. "Mommy!"
He passes her the cell phone, keeping on hand on it so it doesn't fall, and prays that this will keep him from jail or grievous bodily harm.
"Mommy!" Maggie says, immediately, and the voice from the phone gets noticeably softer. He can't hear what she's saying anymore, but whatever it is, it calms the little girl down. She says nothing, only listens, and eventually pushes the phone back into his hand and sticks her thumb in her mouth, pacified.
Sullivan puts the phone back to his ear and says, "She's unhurt and I'll have her back to you in fifteen minutes. Where do you want me to bring her?"
"Home," Murphy says, briskly. The cop is back, and there's no trace of the frightened mother. "I assume you don't want to deal with my colleagues, but you will by God answer to me, is that clear, Sullivan?"
"Crystal," he replies, hoping to all heaven that his little girl won't be an orphan after fifteen minutes pass.
"Good. You have fifteen minutes." She hangs up, and something in the finality of the click tells him that if he takes any more time than that he may well find himself missing something vital.
He sighs and puts his phone away before opening the door and strapping Maggie into his daughter's car seat, adjusting everything to make certain she'll be safe. He talks to her the entire time, telling her what he's doing and why he's doing it. Once he's done, he takes a teddy bear from a bag on the floor (I may need to buy Roslyn a new birthday present) and offers it to the little girl.
Maggie doesn't quite snatch at the bear, but she clings to it almost as hard as she'd been clinging to him (he's reasonably certain he'll have five finger-shaped bruises on his collarbone in a moment). She lays her head on the bear's and closes her eyes; her face relaxes, and she stops her intermittent shaking. She'll be all right, once he gets her home.
Sullivan smiles softly, grateful nobody can witness the look on his face, then gets behind the wheel and drives to the Dresden-Murphy home as fast as he can. He makes it with four minutes to spare.
Murphy must have been watching from behind the curtains or something, because before he can even get out of the car she's standing in the doorway, knuckles white on the doorframe. Her eyes narrow when she spots him, and widen when she sees Maggie wrapped around her teddy bear.
Maggie, in turn, sees her mother and instantly starts wiggling in her seat, crying, "Mommy!"
Sullivan wastes no time in getting out of the car and detangling the little girl from her restraints, and is just as quick in setting her on the ground gently before she can fall out of his arms in her haste to get back to her mother.
Little kids are fast; lost little kids seeing their parents again are faster. Maggie covers the yard almost as quickly as her mother gets down the stairs and slams into her arms. Murphy picks her up smoothly and continues towards him, her expression a strange mix of gratitude and murderous. "In," she says, shortly, stroking her daughter's back, and jerks her head towards the house.
Sullivan isn't fool enough to believe that counts as an invitation. He also isn't fool enough to cut and run. He locks his car and obeys the angry policewoman.
Murphy lets him cool his heels for a moment as she takes Maggie into the kitchen and, from the sounds, checks her daughter out and gives her ice cream. The ice cream hypothesis at least is confirmed when they both return, Maggie walking beside her mother, and settle on the couch across from him.
Murphy fixes him with a glare and barks, "Talk."
Sullivan quickly explains to her how he had found out about Maggie's kidnapping, just as swiftly assuring her that the perpetrator has been discovered and is being dealt with, adding, "I have a feeling that my employer will have him dropped off at the station when Hendricks is done... explaining things to him."
A faint smile quirks the corner of Murphy's mouth and is swiftly gone. "I hope so," she says, hugging Maggie against her side briefly. "And I hope he's prepared to give a full statement and confession, because I know there are some SI graduates in Missing Persons and they all like me."
Sullivan smiles coldly. "We would never think of interfering with due process," he assures her. "He'll even be in one piece." I hope. Natalie Hendricks isn't that much older than Maggie is.
She snorts and stands again, picking up Maggie and moving her to her left hip. "Indubitably. I'll let you get back to the education." It is a pointed dismissal, but a gentler one than he'd been expecting.
Sullivan rises and offers Murphy a slight bow. "Rest assured, lieutenant," he says, a fierce undertone to his friendly voice, "that something like this will never happen again."
"It had better not," she answers, a slight shake to her voice, and her hand flickers across her lower belly. "Or you will all answer to both me and my husband. Is that clear."
Sullivan visibly flinches. "Absolutely," he replies. He has a feeling that if there is a repeat performance, Murphy will make the night he left Curtea Veche look like a friendly misunderstanding.
"Good." She visibly collects herself, then steps back, out of his path to the doorway, and lifts an eyebrow.
Sullivan is quick to leave, though he dares to smile at Maggie before he walks back to his car. He does not mention the teddy bear.
"Bye-bye!" Maggie calls, and waves, before her mother shuts the door.
Written with the help and encouragement of Rosethorn. Maggie Dresden is hers, Fenrir Sullivan is mine, Dave belongs to Rebecca Hb, Knaps, Jacobs, and Liebegott don't really belong to anyone, and everyone else belongs to Jim Butcher. This takes place several years after the other chapters. Yes, Finn is a father. Or will be soon. :D I love not going by chronological order.