A/N: Whoa... I haven't updated this fic since 2006. It's been, like, 7 years. I'm sure you all hate me, if you're even still reading or on the look-out for updates. I apologize. First, I got really busy and then, I lost my log in information, and only got it back last May. And then, I was busy again. I do apologize.
I do hope, if you're still watching for updates, and you happen to stumble across this, that you'll forgive me and continue to read. I'm serious about finishing this time. I even have Chapter 8 almost completely written.
A Few Things Though: I haven't read the books now in 7 years. I don't remember a lot of things. So from here on out, disregard the timeline of the books. If I make a major boo boo, please let me know. Also, if there's anything major that happens in the books, and I'm forgetting, please post a review and remind me of it! That way, I can at least attempt to follow the original storyline. Unfortunately, when I left off 7 years ago, I only had the 6 posted chapters written, and I didn't write any future plots down, so now I'm winging it and just going with the flow of it as it comes to me.
I want to thank everyone who reviewed chapter 6 so many years ago:
mean-girl123: Is it still "soon" if the update is 7 years later? Sorry for that!
singinshowtunes: Remind me of Ruth's nickname for him? I've forgotten!
Certifiably Insane: Thank you! I hope, after 7 years away from both the books and the fic that I've still managed to capture the voices of the characters properly. Let me know!
twighlightangel61090: Thanks! And like I said to Certifiably, I hope I've managed to keep Jess's character in tact, despite 7 years away!
flower213: Thanks! I definitely felt like it was a different side of Johnson than we had seen before.
Still-Obsessed: In 2010, when you reviewed, it had been about 3 years since I updated. Now it's another 3 years later! I hope you're still anxiously awaiting an update! I hope you enjoy the update, since it's been so long!
Sorry I couldn't thank everyone; the list was too long. So please, please enjoy and review! More to come, definitely, if I get good feedback after all these years – And trust me, the next chapter is a doozie!
...
That night, I dreamed. Well, I guess I dream every night. Mostly. Sometimes, I don't remember. But that's not the point. The point is, I dreamed about Johnson's daughter.
I woke up feeling great. Then I remembered last night. It was bad. It was so bad, so bad. Rob and my dad, and my dad giving me that look. I was so worse than busted.
It was Saturday, and I hesitated before getting out of bed. I truly didn't want to face my parents. About the Rob thing, that is. But I also didn't want to get in touch with Johnson on a Saturday and deal with the whole heap of crap he was going to give me about finding Tammie.
But I didn't really have a choice. I had to call him up and tell him what I knew. If I didn't, well, he'd probably knock down my door and demand answers. I didn't want that media circus on our lawn again. Not at all. Not for Doug's sake.
I dressed quickly, snatched my phone off my night table, and tried to sound casual when I found my family in the kitchen, eating breakfast.
"Hey," I said cheerily. Too cheerily. Damn.
My dad eyed me uneasily. "We still need to have that talk, young lady."
Oh, great. So the whole family probably knew about Rob, then, if he was yapping about it at the table. I hung my head, and tried my best to look ashamed. I was, though. Ashamed, that is. I wasn't sure why. Logically, I knew I had done nothing wrong. But I had been caught, and so I had to deal with the fall-out of that.
"Is it okay if I go see Ruth? And then, later, you can ground me?" I asked hopefully, crossing my fingers behind my back. Okay, yeah, I felt guilty. I was lying and I was getting involved with the Feds. Two things I should so not be doing. But I had to get them off my back, and bringing Tammie home was the only way to do that.
My parents exchanged looks. Mike and Doug were both totally ignoring me. Sigh. I guess I'd have to clear the air at some point, or things were going to get really uncomfortable. Uhm. Well, I guess they already were uncomfortable. But maybe I could still fix things. Everything. And my parents would never have to know what I'd done.
"Fine," my mom finally said. She spoke calmly, but I could practically see the vein above her right eye popping. "But don't be gone long. You have a lot of explaining to do."
I nodded gratefully and ran. Like, full-out sprinted to the door, calling my goodbye and thanks as I went.
I waited until I was several blocks away from home before I pulled out my phone and called the lovely Special Agent Johnson.
"What do you know?" Was his greeting.
I snorted. "Well, good morning and hello to you, too. I'm fine, thanks for asking."
"Jessica," I heard Special Agent Smith chastise from the background. I could only imagine the look on Johnson's face. I assumed he had a bulging vein, similar to my mom's, only it was, maybe, twice the size.
"I don't trust that you aren't recording this," I admitted, having no qualms when it came to letting them know I wasn't all for trusting them. Yet. Or maybe ever.
"Meet me by the bleachers at the high school," I finally decided. "And it better just be you two. I even think someone else is with you, and I'm done."
I guess they believed me - I mean, seriously? Did they think I would really let a five-year-old get killed? They must really think I'm heartless – because they both uttered a quick and convincing "of course."
...
I sat on the bleachers, swinging my feet, when I heard a sound that, while at first pleased me, also made me weary. I looked up, watching as Rob rode up on his completely cherried out Indian. He looked drop-dead gorgeous in his t-shirt and form-fitting jeans. I had to pick my jaw up from the bleacher, and collect my thoughts before I could speak.
"You can't be here," I tried to snap, though my tone came out more submissive, almost in the form of a question. Damn, I hated melting around him. But it so totally couldn't be helped.
"This is dangerous," Rob warned, getting off the bike and coming up to me. He sat down beside me, looking annoyed and pissed off – So, the usual.
"You don't even know what I'm doing," I argued. "I'm... Uhm, well..." I had been trying to say, with confidence, that I was meeting Ruth. But the damned Feds chose that moment to show up, and I was busted. Again. For the second time in as many days. So busted.
"You can't work with them," Rob warned, eying Special Agents Johnson and Smith wearily.
"What is your damage?" I asked, scowling. I crossed my arms to look intimidating, but, you know, I'm not. Intimidating, that is. So it probably just looked pathetic.
"I- What?" Rob asked, perplexed.
I rolled my eyes. "You tell me I'm jailbait. Yet you keep showing up. You broke into my house! You demand I tell my parents about us. But then you get pissed when I finally tell my dad we're dating. I don't get what your problem is. Also, how do you always manage to show up when our lovely Special Agents are around?"
That last part rolled off my tongue, without me even realizing what I was asking at first. But then, I realized it was true and my suspicion grew.
Rob gritted his teeth. As the agents approached, he stormed down the bleachers, hopped on his Indian, and took off.
I signed, exasperated. I watched him go, shaking my head. I would never understand him.
"Jessica," Smith called, nodding to me.
I stood, brushing dirt off my jeans. Moment of truth. I stepped down the bleachers, and stood before them. I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of forcing this out of me, either.
"She's twenty miles south of here, in a small cottage." I had previously mentioned the cottage to the, but now I had more details. "It's painted yellow with white shutters. Four men are holding him captive. They all have guns. Tammie is being kept in the back room on the right," I paused, then clarified, "When you're looking at the front of the cottage, it's to the right."
Johnson listened to every word I had to say, enraptured. Smith jotted down the details.
"There are no windows or doors out from the room she's in, just the main door. That door leads to a hall. The hall goes from the front of the house, into the living room, and also into the back of the house, where a door leads out into the woods."
I stopped. That was all I had. Well, almost. I sighed, frustrated.
"Also, it just so happens that the road leading to that cottage is heavily populated. So, you know, if you really are going to keep your side of the bargain, you can always lie and say, you know, someone saw a little girl being forced into the house. You can say they refused to give their name, too, so there are fewer questions."
Johnson and Smith exchanged looks. I couldn't read the silent communication between them, but I didn't like it. Not at all. It was an uneasy look, a subtle shift in their demeanors. I even wondered if the look Special Agent Smith gave Johnson was a pleading one.
"Because, I held up my end of the bargain," I reminded them. "You said if I found Tammie, you'd keep this between us. You know?"
There was an uncomfortable silence. I was starting to get a really, really bad feeling about this.
"Jess..." Smith began, her voice cracking a little. She gave me a sympathetic look, and shook her head, unable to look me in the eye.
"No... No, no!" I cried, horrified. "You promised! You're breaking your promise!"
"We don't have a choice, Jessica," Johnson said gruffly. "As a high profile agent, my daughter's case is top priority. And, that means every lead, every piece of evidence, is being scrutinized."
I shook my head in disbelief. "No. I did everything you asked. This whole time, and even before," I argued. "Don't do this to me. What about my family? What about Doug? No! I can't believe you."
Okay, I knew I couldn't trust them. I had known that the whole time. I had been determined not to help them. But Johnson had been so broken up about it... God, I was a damned fool. I had set myself up for failure. I had walked right into this mess.
And, to prove it, three sleek black SUVs pulled in around the car that Johnson and Smith were driving.
