A/N: I apologize for the long delay. This chapter is rather lengthy. I hope you enjoy!

Chpt 7: Scranton Has Its Secrets

The weathered floor snagged her dress and scraped her back as he pulled her up and over his shoulder. He carried her back to the bedroom and placed her gently on the dusty mattress by the wall. She watched him walk to the tiny closet and pull back the sheet he used as a door. He pulled out two new evening gowns. He alternately held one and then the other out in front of him. "The blue one," he said aloud and turned to her for confirmation. She blinked rapidly trying to hold off the onslaught of new tears. Turning his attention back to the dresses, he spoke to himself. "Yes, the blue one, I think". He returned the pink one to its place in the closet and delicately laid his choice on the bed. "You always look so beautiful in blue. It highlights your eyes, draws out the color, makes them sparkle". His voice was unusually light and cheerful. He walked around the bed and knelt down next to her. Tapping her nose playfully, he asked, "You like blue, right?" He stood and opened the drawer of the night stand. Her eyes grew wide in horror when she saw the knife. He ran the blade across his thigh, first one side then the other. She shook her head back and forth unable to speak. "Oh no," he explained rushing back to her side. "Don't be afraid. I'm just gonna' cut the tape on your wrists so that you can change clothes. Here, see," he said once again kneeling in front of her. "Let me see your hands." She reluctantly lifted two bound and shaking hands to him. He began to saw at the tape between her wrists. "You know, I don't really see why this duct tape is necessary," he said, "but, I'm not in charge so..." he shrugged. She watched him as he worked to free her hands with the dull knife. He held his tongue between his lips like a child as he concentrated on his task. His face was the same, but his essence was very different. He spoke in a different voice, child like, with a different purpose. He moved with a skip in his step as if he didn't have a care in the world. This was not the same man that had taken her from the parking lot. Nor was this the same man that had cried while lying on top of her on the kitchen floor.

"Why are you doing this," she whispered.

"So you can change your dress," he said matter-of-factly.

"No... Why are you keeping me here? What do you want from me?"

He stopped sawing on the tape and dropped his chin to his chest. He drew in a long, deep breath. Exasperated, he shook his head slowly back and forth. Bile rose in her throat. His grip tightened on the knife at his side until his knuckles turned white. He whirled, throwing the knife hard against the wall. His scream was inhuman. Spinning back to face her, he ran his hands through his hair and beat at his temples with the palms of both hands. This was the man that had beaten her feet until they were of no use. She found a way to scream when he charged toward her. He grabbed her around the neck and slammed her against the far wall. He showered her with spit as he screamed in her face. "What do I want from you? Are you kidding me? I want an apology, Rachel!" His voice was deep and guttural. Unable to breath, she beat on his chest with her still bound hands. "I want you to love me! I want you to convince me that it was all a misunderstanding; that it's me you want. Why is that so hard for you?" The dusky room exploded with lights and flashes that burned her retinas from the inside. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. They screamed for air that wouldn't come no matter how much she willed it to be. The last thing she felt was his head crashing into hers before the world went dark and blank.

H5O

"You sure you want to do this? It's a long way from here to Pennsylvania."

Steve smiled at her over his coffee cup. "How long has it been since you've been home?"

"Did you pull my file again, Commander?"

He pointed to his head. "Memory like an elephant."

"Right."

"How far is your home from Scranton?

"It's a hundred and twenty five miles from Lock Haven to Scranton."

"That's not that far," he said. An unspoken suggestion hung in the air.

"No, it isn't," she said ignoring said suggestion for now.

"So what's there to do in Lock Haven?"

"Um, not so much. It's small... really, really small. Population 9200. I grew up on the river... the Susquehana. Say that three times fast."

"Your parents still live there?"

"Uhuh, and so do my three brothers. My dad is a full-time History professor at Lock Haven University and a part-time farmer at home."

"You grew up on a farm? Like with cows and chickens?"

"A few cows, a few more chickens, and a couple of horses. We grew wheat, barley, and potatoes commercially, but my mom always kept a not so small garden with corn, lettuce, okra… all the vegetables she liked to cook... What?"

He shook his head. "I'm just thinking about you... on the farm."

"Yeah, well, knock it off."

"Is Penn State very far from home?"

"Far enough," she said with a smirk.

"You know you never told me why you changed your major."

"Someday," she said and flashed him a warm smile.

They chatted over dinner and almost let the time slip too far by. Steve could not help but notice Lori's inability to sit still now that they were at the gate, waiting to board the plane. "You okay?"

"I hate to fly."

"What?"

"I hate it. I mean I really hate it".

Her seriousness was evidenced by her white knuckled grip on the arm rest at her side. Steve reached for her free hand where it lay gripping her knee next to him. Without a word, he laced his fingers through hers. She studied their entwined fingers and felt the fear fade. Another emotion threatened to take over, one she wasn't quite ready to deal with, but she appreciated the distraction.

H5O

Steve ran his hand lightly along her jaw line and whispered, "Hey, sleepyhead".

Lori's eyes fluttered open and she lifted her chin toward the whisper. She was greeted by a heart-stopping half grin. "We're getting ready to land."

Lori returned his smile and reluctantly lifted her head from his shoulder. She stretched her legs and back as best she could in the tight space. Steve stretched his back in kind. "I didn't wear your shoulder out did I?"

"No, but your snoring turned a few heads."

She sat up straight, frowning. "Nooo," she growled.

"No," he said and smiled mischievously.

Lori rolled her eyes and half-smiled turning her attention to the scenery just coming into view outside the small window. She saw dotted farm land and small city clusters surrounded by narrow rivers that cut the land into various shapes and designs. She felt the pang of homesickness and hoped that maybe, just maybe, she might be able to make time for a quick trip home.

H5O

"Hi, Lori Weston, we have an appointment with Mrs. Grieve at 4:00".

"I'll tell her your here," the young woman said. She did a double take when she saw Steve and offered him a very inviting grin as she stood and turned, making her way to the closed office door behind her. Steve returned her smile with a flirtatious grin of his own. Lori watched the exchange with an arched eyebrow.

"Maybe you could meet her at a kegger later."

"I was just being friendly," he assured her.

"Right," she agreed, her voice full of sarcasm.

The young woman reappeared. "Right this way, please."

Lori and Steve found a petite yet stern looking woman in her late fifties, early sixties standing behind a well organized desk. "Agent Weston," she said as she extended her hand to Lori. "I'm Margaret Grieve."

"Yes, Mam," Lori said and shook her hand in greeting. "This is Commander Steve McGarrett, my partner."

"Commander," she nodded and greeted him with a firm handshake as well. "Please have a seat. I pulled the file on Markus Aaron Williams. I made a copy of everything that we have on him," she said and handed Lori a very thin file. "It's odd, really. As I told you on the phone, there is no picture ID in the paper file, nor on the computer, and no real history. It's just gone, and I can't explain it. I will, however, tell you what I know about Mr. Williams. He attended the university on a Milton Earl scholarship. That particular scholarship covers tuition, room and board. It also guarantees the recipient on-campus employment should they choose to take advantage of that opportunity. The recipient must maintain a 3.5 grade point average at minimum which Mr. Williams did up until his early departure from our campus."

"Is that an academic scholarship?" Steve asked.

"In part, yes. It's only available to students from Pennsylvania who were either adopted or who grew up as a ward of the state."

"Williams was adopted?" Lori asked.

"No, as a matter of fact, he was not. That information, too, is missing from his file. I, however was on the selection committee four years ago when Mr. Williams applied for the scholarship. I remember his story quite clearly. He was orphaned at three years of age when his mother committed suicide. His grandmother relinquished rights and he was sent to foster care. He bounced from foster home to foster home for the next fifteen years. I remember him to be a bright, polite, and good natured young man. He seemed very well adjusted despite his difficult upbringing. It made me wonder how a boy of his charm and intelligence had remained unadopted."

"Did Mr. Williams work on campus?"

"Yes, that information is still there. He worked in one of the science labs on a research project with Dr. Joseph Morgan. He was also employed in the student outreach center as a math and computer tutor."

Lori and Steve glanced at each other. "We'd like to talk to Dr. Morgan, and also to someone in student outreach."

"Let me just call and set that up for you. As you requested, you already have a meeting with campus police at 9:00 AM tomorrow morning."

Lori and Steve left the office of Mrs. Margaret Grieve, perhaps the most efficient woman in Pennsylvania, with a file in hand and a plan for the next day. They walked in silence back to the rental car. "You think this is our guy," she asked wearily.

"I hope so."

"How in the hell did he erase his life?"

"No idea," he replied. "Maybe we'll find something tomorrow. Right now, I want food and sleep."

"Yeah, me too."

Back at the hotel, it was showers and bed as they were both too exhausted to do much more. Lori heard a tap on the door connecting her room to Steve's. She opened it to find a sleepy eyed Commander McGarrett. "Just wanted to say goodnight."

"Goodnight," she replied through heavily lidded eyes of her own. She leaned against the edge of the door. "I'm glad you're here by the way."

"Yeah, me too". A moment of contented silence passed between them before Steve reached for her. He ran his hand through the ends of her hair where it lay damp over her shoulder. He smiled invitingly. Lori felt a now too familiar tingle low in her gut, and she caught her breath. He played with her hair for a moment more before repeating his goodnight. Lori reluctantly closed the door as he backed away.

H5O

The campus police station was exactly what you would expect. A third of the force was unarmed college students charged with writing tickets and patrolling pedestrian trails. The second third consisted mostly of armed, retired policemen or overweight police want-a-bees. The last third looked like a fairly functional group of men and women who, Lori and Steve guessed, would be their best point of contact. Fortunately, Mrs. Grieve agreed, and had scheduled them to meet with Sergeant Michael Pickens who informed them that Markus Williams had had not so much as a parking ticket while attending school at the University of Scranton. He was questioned when a bottle of injectable anesthetic went missing in the research lab where he worked, "but it looks like that was all resolved internally. You could speak to Dr. Joseph Morgan about that. He was the professor in charge."

H5O

"That was quite a while ago. Best I remember, the bottle turned up and the investigation was dropped."

"What did you use the Ketamine for, professor?" Steve asked.

"It's an injectable anesthetic. The mice in the study were given Ketamine for minor procedures and also to sedate them before euthanasia."

"What can you tell us about Markus Williams?"

"He was a great employee. I hated to lose him."

"Did he quit?"

"He said he was having girlfriend trouble. I assumed it was fairly significant, as agitated as he was."

"Significant?" Lori questioned.

"Students date and break up. It's always significant to them... for about a week or so if you know what I mean. Then they move on. I got the idea that he wasn't moving on from this one. I just assumed that maybe she was pregnant or something, well, truly significant."

"Because of the way he acted," Lori clarified.

"Yes. He was typically a fairly friendly, up beat kid. Did his work and did it well. He was intelligent and dependable. When he came by to resign his position, he kept pressing on his eyes like he had a headache. I remember because I had just started a new medication for migraines. I asked him about his headache and he said it had been there, behind his eye, for two weeks. I told him to ask his doctor about the medication. It was more than just a headache though. He was emotional and fidgety, very uncharacteristic for him."

"He told you he was upset about his girlfriend?"

"He said he was leaving because he had to take care of his girlfriend. He said she was the most important thing in his life right now. I collected his pass key and his badge and wished him luck."

"His badge?" Lori and Steve asked at the same time.

"You have to show your badge to get past security in the evening."

"Are they photo ID badges?"

"Yes, why?"

"You wouldn't still have that badge by any chance, would you," Lori asked.

"Um, I doubt it, but I'll ask my secretary when she gets back tomorrow. If we do, she would be the only one who would know where it might be."

"Here's my card. Please call me, if you find that ID," Lori said.

"Will do."

Steve and Lori stepped into the late morning sun. "Which way now?"

Lori pulled out her cartoon-like map of the campus. "Student Outreach. That way."

H5O

"That's weird," the young man behind the reception desk said as he stared at his computer monitor.

"Let me guess. All of his information has been deleted," Lori said not even attempting to hide her frustration. "Do you have any paper files?"

"We used to keep everything on paper, up until a year or so ago. Now we back everything up off site, so there's no need."

"He would have worked here two and a half, maybe three years ago," Steve offered.

"Hold on. Let me get Levi, he's worked here longer than that."

Levi Brown led them to a small storage closet full of old notebooks. "We dumped everything in here until we could get the okay from upstairs to destroy it. You're welcome to look, but I'm sorry, they aren't in any kind of order."

"You have got to be kidding me," Lori complained as she took in the sight of appointment book after appointment book thrown haphazardly into forgotten piles.

"If it helps, the notebooks are labeled by date and subject."

"Levi, did you know Markus Williams," Lori asked.

"I knew him a little. He was really good at math."

"Did he ever mention a girlfriend?"

Levi chuckled. "No, no girlfriend."

"What's funny," Steve asked.

"I don't know. He was a nice guy, I guess. He just wasn't exactly good with the ladies if you know what I mean."

"Thank you, Levi," Lori said effectively excusing Levi.

Steve held out his arm as if to say, "ladies first," and followed her into the small closet. They cleared two spots on the floor and dove in. Forty-five minutes later, Steve stopped to stretch his back and watched Lori as she continued to sort through stacks of old tutoring appointment books. "You're gonna' get a wrinkle," he teased. She stopped and looked at him, taking a second to switch gears and process what he had just said. She realized she was scowling and tried to relax her face. "Look whose talking. You invented the aneurism face."

"Point taken," he said with a playful grin. She returned the smile and got right back to work. Moments later, Steve spoke. "I think I found something". Lori immediately moved to his side. They collected twelve, one month, math appointment books all in proximity of each other at the bottom of a small pile from William's final year of employment. "What say we take these back to the hotel? Do our research there?"

"Definitely," Lori agreed.

H5O

Steve and Lori spread the books about on Steve' king sized bed. "How did you rate," she asked, hands on her hips at the foot of the bed. "I got stuck with two doubles."

"You know a king sized bed is a lonely place for one," he teased and was rewarded with a muted flush to Lori's cheeks.

"I'm sure," she answered. "Let's start with spring, see who he was tutoring when things fell apart."

Steve grabbed the March, April, and May appointment books and scooted back against the headboard. Lori wasn't quite sure how to proceed until Steve looked at her and patted the bed next to him. She could see the challenge in his expression. Never one to back down from a challenge, Lori plopped down next to him and grabbed the March book.

Four female names popped consistently in those three months. Lori noted the names and checked her watch. "Three thirty," she said out loud. "I'm gonna see if Mrs. Grieve is still in. See if these names mean anything to her."

Lori scooted off the bed and grabbed her phone.

"I'm gonna' change clothes. Maybe go for a run. You in?"

"Yeah, sounds good". Steve disappeared into the bathroom and Lori stepped trough the connecting doors into her room.

When Steve returned, she was just hanging up the phone. "You're gonna' want to change back into your other clothes"

"Why?"

"Rachel Evans, one of our names, disappeared two and a half years ago from her dorm on campus. The case was never solved. She was never found."

"Is she ground zero?"

"Could be. Mrs. Grieve said the local police handled the investigation. Detectives Ortega and Bailey were her contacts. She gave me the number. I'm gonna' see if we can meet them today."

H5O

Detective Hector Ortega was a seasoned detective. He was only forty three, but he had been a cop for twenty of those forty three years. His partner, Detective Trevon Bailey was young and eager. The Evans case was his first as a detective, and it was obvious he was still affected by it. "Yeah, that case was a bitch," Detective Ortega said while Bailey remained quiet. "Rachel Evans was a sophomore. By all accounts she was smart, friendly, not an enemy one. She was a pretty little thing too. She had been to a fraternity dance the night she disappeared. Her date was a friend. Said he dropped her off at her dorm a little after midnight. Walked her to the door and watched her go inside. Witnesses confirm he was in his room shortly there after."

"Did you suspect he had anything to do with the disappearance," Steve probed.

"No, I really didn't. He was pretty upset by the whole thing. His surprise seemed genuine when he was told."

"Detective Ortega, did the name Markus Williams ever come up?" Lori asked.

"Doesn't sound familiar. Let me grab my notes". Ortega excused himself to the back of the squad room.

Detective Bailey finally spoke. "We didn't have any real suspects in the case. FBI showed up about three weeks after the investigation went cold. He looked through all of our notes and said he would be in touch. Never heard another thing from him." He looked coldly at Lori, waiting for her to respond. He was obviously unhappy with the way the FBI had handled the girl's case.

Lori frowned at Steve then asked. "You said 'he'. Was there just one agent?"

"Yes, only one that I saw."

"Do you recall his name?"

"Not off the top of my head, but it should be in the notes."

Ortega returned with a dusty evidence box in hand. This is everything I have on the case. Let me find my list of names. Williams you said?"

"Yes, Markus Williams. He was her math tutor." They waited while he thumbed through his notes.

"Yeah, here it is... Let's see. Markus Williams. We interviewed him a few days after the disappearance. He lived in her dorm and friends reported that he seemed to pop up at different times and places, but there was never any real interaction between the girl and Williams. He seemed insignificant at the time."

"Detective Bailey said the FBI was involved at some point?"

"You know that was very strange. One agent showed up here, weeks after the investigation stalled. He looked at my notes, wanted to know if I had taken pictures of the interviewees. I remember because one, he showed up so late into the investigation and, two, I thought it was a strange thing to ask. We don't routinely take photos of anyone but our suspects. I also thought it was weird that only one guy from the FBI showed up. It was more like he was just being nosy, you know. He was pretty useless when he was here. No offense, Agent Weston."

"None taken," she assured him. "Do you have the agent's name?"

"Ah yeah, I should," he said as he flipped further through his notebook. Here it is. Agent Faruke Amari."

"What?" Lori said, shock clearly registering on her face.

"Faruke Amari. I think that's how you say it."

"You're sure," Lori demanded.

"That's what I wrote down. Why? Does that name mean something to you?"

"Yeah, I know him," she said trying to regain her composure.

"Is there something that I should know?"

"No," Lori recovered, her voice stronger. "He's a good agent. I'm sure he did everything he could with the information you gave him"

"Could we see a photo of the victim," Steve asked, purposely shifting topics.

"Here you go," Ortega said. The victim was blond and slender. She had a sweet smile and intelligent eyes. "What a shame," Steve thought as he handed the photo back to the detective.

"Keep it," he said. "I have several more copies in here."

"Thank you. And, thank you for your time," Lori said needing to escape the squad room as quickly as possible.

Lori and Steve walked back to the car without a word. Lori stopped and looked at him over the top of the car. "I wonder..." she said and held up her finger asking Steve to give her just a minute. She pulled out her phone and paced while waiting for an answer. "This is Agent Weston calling again. Is Mrs. Grieve still in her office?... Thank you... Yes, hello. I just have a couple of follow-up questions if you don't mind. The Rachel Evans case. Do you recall speaking with an agent from the FBI during that investigation?... Do you remember his name?... Would he have had access to your computer as part of that investigation?... Thank you, Mrs. Grieve, you've been very helpful."

Lori walked back to the car where Steve stood, leaning on the hood. He rose to meet her. "Mrs. Grieve spoke to a single agent investigating Rachel Evans' disappearance. She didn't remember his name, but she said he was very interested in background information. She said he spent the afternoon on her assistant's computer."

"Doing what," he asked.

"Erasing photos and background information?"

He could tell she was angry. Betrayal tended to do that to a person.

"You okay?"

"Why? Why would he do it? I don't understand," she said, pacing and obviously upset. Steve watched her pace, arms crossed over his chest. "Think. I need to think," she growled.

Steve stepped into her path, forcing her to stop. He took hold of her shoulders. "Let's go back to the hotel. We'll take that run. It'll clear your head."

She sighed deeply and stretched her neck. He ran his hand quickly down her arm and bent to meet her at eye level. "Yeah?"

She nodded and followed him back to the car.

H5O

Kerrie woke to a throbbing headache. She grabbed her aching head and sat quietly, waiting for her vision to clear. Slowly, the bed side table came into focus. She realized two things simultaneously. One, that's where he kept the big knife. Two, her hands were free of the duct tape. Her heart raced, a desperate plan forming. She inched closer to the table willing herself to move slowly and silently. Her wrists throbbed and her feet ached. The duct tape around her ankles sent shards of pain up her leg with each movement. She had to stop and disentangle her legs from the new, blue silk dress that had wrapped around her calves and thighs. She shivered at the thought of him removing the old, torn dress while she laid their unconscious. The new gown had a plunging neck line and a low, revealing scoop in the back. The length made it difficult for her to scoot toward the table. She reached for the handle with two trembling hands. The table was old and the wood was warped. She had to move closer to gain the leverage she needed to pull open the drawer. Her head rose above the plane of the mattress. Movement to her left caught her attention. "There's nothing in there you need," he hissed. She screamed, an unmistakable scream of terror, and jerked the drawer open hard enough that it flew out of the table sending it's contents crashing down around her. She felt more than saw his body as it raced across the mattress like a spider. Spotting the knife on the floor, she dove at it wildly. The pain was blinding when he grabbed her ankles and yanked her back. She rolled underneath him and lost her breath completely when he stomped across her in an effort to reclaim the knife. He grabbed her by her hair and threw her against the wall. He was breathing hard and fast. Tears were streaming down his face. "You always do this," he wailed. Sliding down the wall, she flattened herself against it. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees gagging and retching in front of her. He finally sat back on his heels and faced her. Gone was the pain that had distorted his face not moments ago. The man that appeared before her was ice cold and calculating. He cocked his head to the side and smiled without parting his lips. "I've been waiting patiently for our turn to dance". Too terrified to scream, Kerrie closed her eyes and turned into the wall.

TBC

A/N: Reviews are my muse. Take a minute and let me know what you think. Any and all suggestions, remarks, constructive criticism, words of encouragement, etc. are always appreciated. Thank you for reading!