I've had requests from several people for an update, so here you go. Hope you enjoy! :)
xxxxx
Chapter 7
"Now what?"
Lee shoved his hands in his pockets and propped one foot against the wall behind him as he glared in Barney's direction.
Returning the look, Barney contemplated the question before shifting to the expectant stares of the other men present. Running his hand down the side of his face, he nodded at Toll Road.
"Did you find anything else?" he asked, for the third time in about as many hours.
"Nothing other than what I'd already found." Toll Road shook his head, while flashing the sheet of paper in his hand. He offered the printout, which was nothing more than a snippet of a paragraph taken from the internet website of a local newspaper, while repeating the information they'd already heard once before. "No details, only that the fire was of a suspicious nature."
Leaning forward, Barney took the paper and perused it himself for a moment, before tossing it on the bar behind him. It was easy to be frustrated, but he knew Toll had done the best he could with what information he had. He'd even been thorough enough to conduct a database search of the county office where the house was – or rather, had been - located. Not that the search had uncovered anything useful, but it had verified that Isabelle was indeed listed as the sole owner of the property.
With the question Lee had just asked still up in the air, Barney was surprised when Toll was the first to offer his normally reserved opinion. "I don't see how we can justify sending her away. Not after this. Not until we figure out what the hell is going on."
Beside him, Caesar frowned. "Man, a few days ago, you were ready to hand her over to Church like it was nothing. And now you're worried about her getting burnt up in a fire that could have been nothing more than a bunch of bored teenagers with some extra time on their hands..."
"We don't know what Church's motives are." Toll argued, glancing from the man next to him back to Barney. "He could be trying to protect her, for all we know."
Barney tilted his head in acknowledgement as he pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket, remaining silent as he rolled it between his fingers.
"You're right." he agreed, meeting Toll's stare. "Without all of the details, we have no way of knowing exactly what he was up to. It's possible he was trying to protect her." He paused, letting his gaze travel over the rest of the guys. "But, it's also possible that she could be a genuine threat, either to Church, or to some other unnamed individual or organization. We have no idea what she was involved in before this whole thing blew up in our faces..."
He let the thought trail off, reminding himself that the same line of reasoning also applied to the mysterious and strangely absent Mr. Church. He turned his attention back to Toll Road, though he addressed the entire group.
"Looks can be deceiving. We all know that." he continued. "I admit, she seems harmless enough. But that could be only because she doesn't have her memory. Remember, when we stormed that building, she was armed, right along with the others. That should tell us that she was ready to fight for something."
As he spoke, his eyes drifted to Gunnar, who had taken up a position in the back of the room, well behind the others, and who still bore the aftereffects of Isabelle's resistance. He let his gaze fall from Gunnar's face to his bandaged arm, slightly surprised that the big man had shown no reaction to his words.
"If we underestimate her," Barney added sternly, "...because of her size, or her looks, or just because she's a woman...then we're asking for trouble. We can't afford to let our guard down. We have to continue to operate on the assumption that she could be a real threat..."
"More like a pain in the ass." Lee mumbled, cutting him off.
"Don't underestimate her." Barney repeated, pointing a finger in Lee's direction as he reemphasized his warning.
Turning his attention back to the others, he sighed. These repetitious discussions were starting to get old. "For now, everything stays the same," he offered with a tone of finality. "She'll stay here until further notice. And we'll keep our eyes and ears open, until we figure out exactly what the hell is going on."
Obviously disgusted by the decision, Lee stormed off, muttering something unintelligible under his breath as he went, though his attitude surprised no one. He'd been, by far, the most vocal of the group when it came to the idea of getting rid of their excess baggage once and for all.
Barney watched him disappear out the door, a tick of annoyance working its way through his jaw. Christmas was his right-hand man, the second in charge, the one with whom he always discussed the details before accepting any new job. He was also the one who always seemed to know just how to push Barney's buttons, whether it was meant in jest or not. He could be a pain, almost to the point of exasperation at times. But it was rare for him to disagree so vehemently with Barney's decisions or opinions. They usually had little problem arriving at the same conclusions, even if they had to take a somewhat different route to get there.
It crossed Barney's mind, briefly, that perhaps Isabelle was not the real issue at stake here. Recalling how tense and moody the younger man had been since their return from this latest mission, he wondered if his teammate might be having issues with that wayward girlfriend of his again. Given their shaky history, that possibility wouldn't surprise him at all. Or anyone else, for that matter. But it would help to explain away much of Lee's dark and dreary mood that had seeped in and taken root since they'd returned. Considering he had been unable to provide Barney with a suitable reason for his strong dislike of the girl, it seemed plausible that Lee had simply turned Isabelle into an unfortunate scapegoat for the misplaced anger that he couldn't bring himself to direct toward Lacey. And even though he wasn't sure a reconciliation was in the other man's best interest, if it helped soothe the waters temporarily, Barney decided he wouldn't voice his objections over the matter until this entire thing was done.
Surveying the remaining men in the room, he took note that while none of them could exactly be considered thrilled with their circumstances, they were at least more accepting than their teammate had been. With the meeting informally adjourned, they milled about for a few minutes longer, finishing off the last of their beers or tucking away whatever equipment they'd been occupied with. Yang was the first to slip away, quietly, as he always did, without any fanfare or goodbye. Toll and Caesar followed shortly thereafter, arguing lightheartedly over some inconsequential matter as they went. And then there were only two, as Barney was left to face down the remaining straggler of the group alone.
Across from him, Gunnar sat sprawled out in a worn, leather arm chair that had been shoved against the back wall. Barney watched him, still curious over the big man's earlier reaction, or lack thereof. If the normally reserved Toll Road had been unusually vocal over the past few days regarding their dilemma, then Gunnar had been unusually quiet. Barney found it strange that Lee was the one who had taken the most exception to Isabelle's presence here, when Gunnar was the one who had received the brunt of the damage.
Observing his detached expression, Barney tried to recall just how long he had known the larger man. Long enough, he decided, that he had lost count of the years. They'd been through a lot together, both good and bad, and yet here they were, both of them somehow having managed to emerge unscathed from each conflict, surviving in the way that only they could.
Well, perhaps unscathed was too much of an optimistic term for him to use, he reconsidered, as he studied the cold, dark eyes that were currently trained on him. Mentally, they'd both been cursed with their fair share of damage. Even so, there was no doubting that his comrade was an exceptionally brilliant person. Or at least, he had been once, before the drugs and alcohol had taken hold. But though he was the most highly educated member of their team, and thankfully had been clean for quite some time now, it was no secret that he had never been known for his display of diplomacy or tact. Gunnar always operated on full-charge, usually without a filter to block whatever maniacal thoughts he had from spilling forth out of his mouth. The idea that the six of them could gather together in such close quarters, even for a short period of time, without a single sarcastic remark or nonsensical rambling, was nearly impossible to comprehend. But throughout the proceedings of the entire evening, Barney hadn't heard even so much as a grunt of disapproval from the figure looming in front of him. And coming from the most unpredictable, volatile member of their group, he wasn't so sure that the unexpected silence was a good thing.
Finally lighting the cigar he'd been tampering with, he leaned back against the counter behind him and propped one elbow on its smooth surface. "What do you make of all this?" he finally questioned, seeking to ease some of his growing curiosity.
Gunnar shrugged nonchalantly, tilting back the bottle of beer in his hand. He took a long drink, then rested the bottle on his thigh, all the while holding Barney's gaze. He surprised Barney by answering his question with one of his own. "You really think she's a threat?"
With a hint of amusement, Barney nodded at the other man's injured arm. "Don't know. You tell me."
Gunnar glanced down at his arm and smirked, obviously unoffended by the remark. They were silent for a few moments before Barney spoke up again. "You were the one up there with her. You got the closest to her before all this happened. You tell me." he repeated, inquisitively. "What do you think? What was she like up there?"
Gunnar stiffened, but seemed to contemplate the question for a moment before answering cautiously. "Scared. Angry. Like she was ready to kill me."
"But she didn't." Barney stated. "Why?"
Gunnar narrowed his eyes, wondering where this line of questioning was headed. But even through his suspicion, he couldn't stop himself from remembering the look Isabelle had given him when she'd turned on him. She had been scared and confused. Then again, who wouldn't be when faced with his intimidating visage? Still, she had known how to use a weapon; she'd effectively demonstrated that on the two men she had eliminated on her own. So why had she hesitated with him?
Irritated, he shoved the memory to the back of his mind. He already knew exactly what it was that Barney was implying and he didn't need his list of questions to understand that this whole situation was his fault. He knew it. And he knew the others did too, even if they never voiced the thoughts aloud. Isabelle hadn't been the only one up there who had hesitated. He'd wavered, when he should have acted; he'd paused, when he should have striked. If he'd done what he should, he might have gotten to her first. And then they wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.
Here he was, he'd spent all of his time trying to make amends for his past actions, trying to prove that he was worthy of his place in this group. And just when things were on the verge of getting back to normal, he'd gone and fucked it all up again. All because she'd looked at him and...
And what?
Gripping the arms of the chair tightly, he pulled himself to his feet. He didn't need this blame. He wasn't going to sit there and listen to Barney's thinly veiled accusations. Not after he was the one who'd told him not to shoot. Not after he was the one who had gotten them into this whole mess in the first place.
"No, she didn't." he finally answered with a threaten growl, as he stepped past his partner. "You wanna know why, ask her!"
Gunnar slung his empty bottle into the trash can at the end of the bar, the glass clinking loudly against the others that had already been discarded. Unfazed, Barney studied Gunnar's retreating form as he stormed out the door, confused but not necessarily surprised over his sudden change of attitude. He understood by now that if you dealt with Gunnar with any kind of regularity, sudden and vicious mood swings were part of the package.
Barney breathed deeply, taking another puff on the cigar, watching the smoke as it floated upward through the muggy air of the room. So there it was – another inconvenient development, another wrench thrown into their plans. By this point, he didn't know why he'd come to expect anything less.
He'd tried contacting Church again, several times actually, and was not surprised to find that the number he'd been given was no longer in service. Mentally, he added the most recent information they had obtained to the ever growing list of problems this job had compiled, shuffling them about in various arrangements, searching for some small part that might eventually fall into place. The suspicion that had bloomed in the back of his mind during the initial mission had continued to flourish, growing stronger with each passing day, but no matter how much he analyzed what information he had, he just couldn't find a way for it all to make sense. There were just too many pieces of the puzzle still missing.
Still, the fact that Church had virtually disappeared off the map, along with the knowledge that Isabelle's house had likely been deliberately destroyed, lent credence to his theory that perhaps Church had found himself way deeper into this situation than he had ever anticipated. If he'd been forced into hiding, Barney understood it was reasonable that he would not have had time to contact him to give him further instructions or to make other plans. Nevertheless, it left him with quite a predicament on his hands, being forced to maintain custody of an individual who, as of yet, they could not classify as either friend or foe.
Finishing off the cigar, Barney stubbed it out as his eyes shifted upward toward the ceiling, in the direction of the room where Isabelle had made her temporary home. For the first time since the incident had occurred, he found himself almost grateful for the amnesia that had thrown this mission into complete turmoil. Whether it was selfish of him to think so or not, the last thing they needed right now was for her memory to make an unexpected return. As far as he was concerned, she could stay in the dark for a little while longer. At least until Church finally showed up to deal with the aftermath of whatever hornet's nest he'd managed to stir up. All Barney knew was that he'd better make an appearance soon. Otherwise, the imperceptible Mr. Church was going to have a whole other set of unwelcome problems on his hands.
xxxxxxx
Pacing in circles about her borrowed room, Isabelle paused occasionally to gaze longingly out the small window to the darkening street below. She'd tried half-heartedly to open it several times during the course of the past few days, if only to feel the warmth of the sun on her face or to take a few cleasening breaths of fresh air. But of course, it, along with everything else in this godforsaken place, refused to cooperate at all.
She was going stircrazy, being locked up in this same small room for all hours of the day and night, with no change of scenery and no one else to talk to. Well, if she was honest, she supposed 'locked up' wasn't exactly the right term for her to use. Barney had already granted her free reign of the upstairs area, provided she stayed out of trouble. In reality, her exile had mostly been self-imposed, mainly to avoid the suspicious glances and inhospitable mutterings that were thrown her way whenever she found herself in the company of her estranged roommates. One of them in particular.
She still didn't know what she had done to incite Gunnar's wrath, but seemingly, she couldn't cross paths with him without being on the receiving end of an insulting remark or a scathing look. It was almost to the point of ridiculousness, but there was nothing funny about having to spend nearly every waking moment of her day either cowering in fear or plotting his timely murder. It was difficult at times not to respond to him in kind. But realistically, she knew the best thing she could do was avoid him as much as she could and hope that whatever ill will he harbored toward her would eventually wan.
Passing by the bed again, she picked up the book she'd finished earlier that day, the one that Toll had loaned to her. He had been right. It was a rather good read, and she was eager to continue with the series, if for no other reason than it would help keep her mind off of her situation. But each time she had left the safety of her room to go in search of him, she'd only managed to run into Gunnar instead.
It was strange, she thought, how when all the others seemed to disappear, Gunnar was always still around. Slowing her pace, she considered the idea.
Was watching her his job now? Had he been assigned to babysitting duty? Was that why he was always in such a foul mood whenever she was around?
Even if it was, she decided that wasn't reason enough for his cruel and unfair treatment. After all, it wasn't her fault that she was practically being held captive here. If she'd had any say in the matter, she would have made her graceful exit well before now.
Annoyed, she took a seat at the head of the bed and picked up the driver's license that she'd placed on the table beside of her. She studied it again, reading over the name and the address, examining the photo, hoping that the information might somehow incite a spark of familiarity in her mind. But it was all to no avail.
Glancing toward the doorway, she felt her anger rise. Barney knew what was going on here. That much she knew for certain. Maybe not everything. But definitely a lot more than he was willing to admit to her. She wondered how he could stand to be so cruel, withholding information when he knew how much it disturbed her not be able to remember anything about her life. How could he justify keeping her in the dark, even if he claimed it was for her own good?
Mulling over her thoughts, she decided she was going to have to come up with some way to figure out exactly what was going on around here. There had to be a reason why everybody was being so secretive. Perhaps it was time she stopped demanding answers and started searching for them on her own.
A noise outside the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she sighed as she snatched up the book on the bed next to her. Finally, Toll Road was back. Crossing the room, she opened the door and started across the hall, then paused in confusion. Even from where she stood, she could see that his own room was still empty. Glancing at the book in her hand, she hesitated for another moment before she proceeded forward and placed it on the table beside his bed. Hopefully, he'd spot it later on and, if his earlier offer still stood, maybe he'd think to bring her something else to read.
Backing out of the room, she decided to grab a snack from the kitchen while the coast was clear, before banishing herself back to her room for the night. Padding quietly down the hallway, she was relieved to find the path ahead of her empty, as well as the room that was her destination. Rummaging through the cabinets, she found the half-empty jar of peanut butter that by now she assumed only she ate, and spread some of the contents onto a couple of slices of bread taken from the package on the counter. She'd lost track of how many of these sandwiches she'd consumed over the past few days, certainly more than enough to last her a lifetime, but she reminded herself it was either this or one of the endless supply of unappetizing frozen dinners that always seemed to find their way back into the freezer.
Assembling her meager fare, she made sure to put everything back just the way she'd found it, just as she always did. Opening the cabinet door in front of her, she selected a clean glass, which she filled with cold water from the faucet. Studying the items before her, she couldn't help but recognize how fitting they were to her circumstances. A peanut butter sandwich and water – a prison meal if there ever was one.
Grinning slightly, she reached down with her free hand to pick up the plastic plate that held her food, grateful for her newfound sense of humor. She thought at the moment, it was the only thing keeping her from dissolving into a fit of tears.
Shifting the glass in her hand to get a better grip, she suddenly froze when a reflection in its surface caught her attention.
Behind her, in the doorway, something moved, blocking her exit. And she knew, even without turning around, who it was...
