A/N: A belated Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it and an early Happy New Year to you all. My thanks to everyone who has read my fanfic this year and especially to those who have taken the time to review. Feedback pretty much always feels like Christmas ;)
Thanks as ever to Katt for betaing my work and for the friendship after all these years and fandoms.
FYI there's an endnote for this chapter too. One that I think is kinda fun ;)

Chapter 10

"I'm not sure what I can tell you in person, boys that Sherry didn't already tell Brian over the phone." Deputy Ed Sykes' next words were wrapped within a tight grimace. "My hands are tied."

Adam winced at the man's statement and looked across the short distance to Crane. They'd explained that Daniel was missing, told Ed about the fruitless calls they'd already made. And now, thanks to Sykes' response, the McFaddens' gentle third born son was standing in front of the seated lawman radiating all the coiled tension of a threatened rattler. If Adam wasn't so worried that the kid might actually strike, he'd be taking more time to appreciate the irony in his decision to leave Brian back at the ranch.

After all, he'd outright ordered their typically more hot-headed brother to stay behind with Hannah and Ford. Especially after Brian had already loudly expressed his disdain for the missing persons' regulations after Sherry had shared them with him.

"Oh, come on, Ed!" Crane snapped. "This is bullshit and you know it!"

"Crane!" Adam reprimanded, pulling him away from Ed's desk. Relieved that the deputy's only reaction to Crane's disrespect was the surprised expression plastered on his face.

Adam sure wished Charlie Lewis was there. The amiable sheriff was not only Adam's friend and fishing buddy but, he had an extra soft-spot for the younger McFaddens, including Crane and Daniel. Though he'd been forgiven plenty of times over, Charlie still felt guilty about not seeing the true colors of Buck Turner, his predecessor. And part of his perceived wrongdoing included feeling responsible for Daniel getting beaten up by some of the thugs working for Buck's literal partner in crime, Ben Tobey.

Never mind that Charlie had arrested those goons. The fact that Buck had immediately released them and Crane ended up getting held against his will and roughed up by them too, well, Murphys' kind-hearted sheriff still felt awfully bad about that.

And, with Daniel's whereabouts unknown, Adam would have felt no shame in using Charlie's misplaced guilt and their friendship to his advantage.

Anything to find Daniel.

But Charlie was out of town, attending some Sheriffs' Association conference. So that left Ed Sykes in charge: a by-the-book city trained policeman whose only ties to the community were from marrying into it – barely – and transferring up here after Charlie had been sworn into office.

"Look, I'm sorry, all right," Crane continued, not sounding all that sorry at all. At least he wasn't looming over Ed anymore. "But, are you seriously telling us that, if Daniel had disappeared six months ago, you'd be pulling out all stops instead of sitting there with your thumb up—"

Crane cut himself off this time, thankfully. Even still, Adam was next to him now, with a firm grip on the kid's arm.

Ed sighed heavily and leaned forward, elbows resting on the desktop, his fingers tented together against his chin. He looked up at Adam briefly, sympathy in his eyes, before addressing Crane directly. "That's what I'm telling you, son," he said, looking like he wasn't happy with what he was about to say. "Crane, do you have any idea how many boys Daniel's age – hell, your age – take off on their folks without a word each and every day?"

Crane tensed and Adam tightened his hold, effectively quelling the protest he knew his brother wanted to make. It was the same one Adam wanted to make.

Seemingly oblivious, the deputy continued his undoubtedly rote lecture. "They're either looking to find themselves or following their hormones or hearts. Or leaving just because they're ticked off with their mom or dad for any number of reasons."

Adam felt Crane stiffen again but he let go, caught up in the struggle to clear the sudden tightness in his own throat. Adam coughed harshly, trying to dislodge the jagged reminder of his fight with Daniel that had apparently settled in his esophagus.

The deputy didn't miss it; probably saw the guilt flash in Adam's eyes too. "Is there something else you boys maybe should be tellin' me?" He asked, one eyebrow rising. "Did something happen at home?"

Adam's shoulders fell; his head following too as he let his gaze find the floor.

"What? No!" Crane insisted bringing Adam's head back up. "No, we've gone over this already." He was looking at Adam now. "That's not what's going on here."

"You sure about that?" Ed asked; the doubt evident in both his expression and tone. "I mean, I've seen that boy in action. They don't come much more stubborn. I imagine he can be a handful."

Crane whirled on the man, his defensive hackles on display for Adam and the rest of the world to see. But the kid didn't voice his objection. Probably for the same reason Adam didn't. Because, unless Adam was mistaken; he was seeing a whole lot of unexpected admiration and fondness in Ed's eyes.

"Hell, we've all been eighteen," Ed continued. "And all due respect but, it's tough enough for most boys to find their wings when they're feeling like their daddy's only job is to clip 'em. I can't imagine how hard it would be with big brothers doing the raising instead." He shook his head then, adding somewhat hesitantly, "I may not be from around here but I've still heard the stories about you all. Between you two and Brian, that's an awful lot to live up to."

Adam wanted to scoff or take offense but he couldn't. In fact, he'd winced at Sykes' insight instead. He tried not to think about the legendary footprints Daniel and his younger siblings were following. Knew it was all a crock of shit anyway, at least where his and Brian's myths were concerned. Adam didn't deserve the reverence and respect many in the community gave him. He was far from the star athlete and scholar who "gave up everything" for his little brothers. Hell, even with Hannah at his side he still felt like the terrified kid who'd spent the last decade just barely hanging on by his fingertips.

And Brian: their true superstar athlete and renowned ladies' man? Adam loved his closest brother to pieces and would forever be indebted to him for his loyalty, support and friendship from even before their parents' deaths. But, well, as far as influences went, truth was… Brian just plain drank too much, fought too much and slept around too much. Adam was just grateful that his very first kid brother had finally come around to recognize those faults and was doing his damnedest not to let them rub off on the boys – too much.

To Adam, it was Crane – with their mom's insight, intelligence and genuine kind-heartedness – who was the only one of Daniel's big brothers deserving of any true veneration. But, as much as he felt that way, Adam felt just as strongly that Crane's stellar reputation had never been any kind of issue for Daniel. In fact, because of their closeness, Crane's gentle influence on the at times volatile boy was a godsend.

It was certainly a far cry from Adam's considerably more rough-hewn influence.

Adam was always fighting that fine line between father and brother with Daniel; Evan too. It wasn't really an issue with Crane and Brian; they were Adam's brothers, his partners. And with Ford and Guthrie, as much as Adam wanted to deny it and felt wholly inadequate stepping in the footprints of Adam McFadden, Sr., he recognized that he was as much father to them as they were his sons.

It was tougher with brothers four and five though. Especially number four. That one year age difference somehow gave the kid more reason to baulk when Adam threw his weight around. Truth be told, it made Adam baulk more too; made him less confident in his decision-making.

Of course maybe that had to do with how often Adam had screwed up with Daniel too. Evan was easier for Adam to read.

"So, what…? You think just because Daniel and Adam had a fight, Daniel's run off to lick his wounds somewhere?"

Adam winced at Crane's outburst. He hadn't really wanted the deputy to know about the argument. Figured it would only hurt their cause in terms of getting Ed to cooperate.

And, okay, so maybe he didn't really like the idea of Crane airing their dirty laundry either.

"You're wrong, Ed. So wrong," Crane argued, condescension slipping into his tone. "Daniel faces his problems. He doesn't run from them. And I would think that, if you knew anything about my brother at all, you'd know that for sure."

The deputy actually paled a little and swallowed heavily and, in that moment it finally dawned on Adam why Ed was acting like he knew Daniel more than Adam thought he should.

The Howling Man. The mine collapse.

Of course.

Charlie had been out of town for that nightmare too; testifying against Buck Turner come to think of it. Though once the courts released him, he'd high-tailed it home to check on the boys and Jenny Barrett, the little girl trapped in the mine along with the McFaddens' youngest three.

Adam's memory of that ordeal was as hazy as it was vivid. Flashes of sheer terror and helplessness mixed with moments of resolve. And ultimately sheer joy and deep pride. He'd forgotten that Ed had been privy to it all; had actually been in charge in the sheriff's absence, along with Tom Barrett and the mine rescue team.

The deputy would have witnessed Daniel suffer Tom's rage and Adam's silent treatment. He'd been there to outright step in, attempt to defuse them, when Adam and Tom had started going at it too. More importantly, Ed would have seen Daniel rise above his guilt and grief and risk his own life to rescue those kids.

It was no wonder the man held a certain reverence for the boy. And perhaps it was Crane's none-too-subtle reminder why that seemed to suddenly change Ed's attitude too.

"Okay," Sykes said, the soft smile touching his lips replaced by a grim line. "You've made your point. But, I'm still limited. I can't file a missing persons report for—" he looked at his watch then and scowled "—at least another fifteen hours."

"That's too late," Crane choked out; his rancor gone and fear so palpable that Adam stepped up behind him and planted a reassuring grip on the back of the kid's neck.

"Hey, don't say that," Adam whispered into Crane's ear. "Don't even think it."

Crane's distress had apparently affected Ed too. Getting up from his chair and rounding the desk to face him; Adam as well, he told them, "Now, son… that doesn't mean I'm gonna sit here on my thumbs all day, all right?"

Adam felt Crane's huff of relieved exhalation, even smirked when he realized his brother's cheeks were tinted with a touch of pink. Grateful that the deputy hadn't taken any offense to Crane's earlier accusation, Adam turned his attention back to the man. "What can you do in the meantime, Ed?"

"I can put out a BOLO for Daniel and the Jeep; a "be on the lookout" notification to all my men." He explained and Adam breathed a little easier at the revelation. Looking a little apologetic, Sykes continued. "But I'm not going to be able to send it outside my jurisdiction without official cause."

"But—"

"We'd appreciate that, Ed," Adam said, quelling Crane's objection. Afraid of the answer but needing to know, he asked, "So, what's the definition of official cause?"

Ed looked as reluctant to explain as Adam had been to ask. "Well, the "missing for twenty-four hours" you already know about," he said, averting his eyes from Crane. "A history of mental illness, drug use, evidence of being a danger to oneself or to others," He rhymed off, barely mumbling the mention of a suicide note. The deputy looked back up at Adam next, his expression severe when he stated, "Suspicion that foul play is involved."

"So, we're stuck with waiting the twenty-four hours then."

It wasn't a question, though Ed answered Crane anyway. "Crane, I know the idea of waiting is tough but, trust me, it's a good thing that your brother doesn't fall under any of those categories."

Adam didn't miss the pain flash through Ed's eyes; wondered at the man's fifteen years in law enforcement. Adam thought back to his bad dream last night, grateful that despite how horrific it had been, the images within it were distortions at worst and untruths at best. Ed, though? He may well have seen it all.

Clapping the man on his shoulder, Adam gave it a squeeze. "I know you'll do everything you can," he offered sincerely.

The deputy asked then, what he was supposed to tell the other deputies with respect to the BOLO. If Adam wanted them to bring Daniel in to the sheriff's station or maybe drive him home. Or just report on the boy's whereabouts.

As much as Adam wanted someone to gather Daniel up and ensure he arrived home safely, he had no intention of putting Daniel through the embarrassment of a ride in a sheriff's cruiser. The boy had been through that humiliation once before – forced to wear handcuffs no less – all thanks to trumped up accusations during Adam's run for sheriff. Adam would sooner cut off his own arm than be responsible for Daniel having to relive that ordeal. Before he responded though, he looked to Crane. And saw the same battle waging in his light hazel eyes. Saw the moisture welling there too.

"Just have them tell him we want him home," Adam said, the words sticking in his throat. "That we're worried and for him to at least call to let us know he's okay."

Ed agreed, doing one better by promising that he would relay Daniel's whereabouts the minute he learned anything.

"We'd be obliged, Ed. Thanks." Slipping his hand into his shirt pocket, Adam slid out a photograph he'd selected earlier from one of the family albums Hannah was putting together. It wasn't terribly recent, at least a couple of years old. Whether it was an attempt to save the family the expense or Daniel's increasing disdain toward school, Adam didn't really know. Whatever the reason, the kid had ditched the school's portrait sessions the last two years. The only pictures he ever posed for anymore were family ones and, well, with the size of their brood, depictions of him were just too small to be of any use to Ed.

"Here. For the BOLO," Adam said a little hesitantly, uncertain as to how the picture would even be circulated. He supposed the department had one of those telecopier machines he'd heard about.

Before Ed could retrieve the photo from Adam, Crane intercepted it. Barely glimpsing at it, he shook his head. "No, use one of these," he said as he pulled out from his inside coat pocket what appeared to be a small white tube wrapped with an elastic band.

"Good. That'll be perfect if we need one," Sykes responded once he'd unfurled and revealed multiple copies of the same black and white image.

One that Adam had never seen before.

He swallowed hard. It was recent all right; Adam recognized the shirt Hannah had picked out for Daniel as a birthday present. He was leaning back against some nondescript wall, his hands resting casually at his waist, thumbs hooked around his belt buckle. Not a hair out of place. He was looking straight at the camera; eyes sparkling and teeth shining bright within a handsome smile. It wasn't the boy's infectious grin though; the one Adam suddenly realized he hadn't seen in far too long.

It wasn't just the smile that was different either. Everything seemed different.

This was a portrait of a Daniel McFadden his oldest brother abruptly realized he didn't know: a young man radiating confidence and maturity and, though it shocked Adam to even think it, an alluring appeal that extended well beyond the parameters of a hayloft or the back of a pickup truck.

Some professional photographer, or at least someone with professional know-how, had to have taken the eight-by-ten glossy. Christ, it looked like it belonged in one of those movie magazines Hannah occasionally flipped through whenever they were waiting in line at the grocery store.

"What do you mean if you need one?" Crane asked; startling Adam from his stupor and making him backtrack over Ed's last statement.

"Well, I'm awful hopeful that your brother turns up safe and sound long before we'd need it for a missing person's report," Ed replied. "As for the BOLO, my men don't need it. There isn't a one of them that doesn't know what Daniel looks like. Hell, next to Hoops Hughes he's got to be Murphys' most famous son."

Adam blinked. And then chided himself for that reaction. Hadn't he been thinking just last night about everyone in the county having seen Daniel on stage at some point or another?

Still, for Ed Sykes to put Daniel in the same league as Hoops? Really?

"Speaking of which, are you absolutely certain that Daniel didn't just uh, well, decide to partake in the company of one of those pretty girls lining up to see him in Stockton?"

There were girls lining up to see Daniel in Stockton?

Not to mention… how in the hell would Ed even know about them?

Before Adam could put a voice to his thoughts, Crane spoke up. "I did and it is possible but… he'd be back by now, Ed," he answered earnestly. "I'm sure of—wait a minute, how do you even know about those girls?"

Exactly! Adam thought.

The deputy shrugged his shoulders, appearing somewhat self-conscious all of a sudden. "Well, it was Marcy's fortieth a few weeks back and she really wanted to go see Daniel's band. Said her baby sister – you know the one livin' in Lodi? She's been after her to go. Anyway," he went on to explain, "I guess Cathy's a regular at the place every Thursday night but, we went for dinner and to see the early Saturday show instead."

Adam turned to Crane who looked pleased, his pride in Daniel momentarily overriding his concern. Adam, on the other hand, didn't know what to think. Or rather, maybe he didn't really want to think.

Oblivious to Adam's building unrest, the deputy carried on, shaking his head and with definite appreciation in his tone. "That boy's some talented but that crowd waitin' for the later show? They were rowdy enough outside when we were leavin'… I'd heard the ladies can get so loud it's hard to hear Daniel sing. I sure can believe it." The deputy hiked his shoulders again, his expression oddly sheepish. "'Course you would know all about that."

No, I wouldn't, Adam thought. And that, suddenly, felt very, very wrong.

Crane slammed the truck door shut, barely taking the time for Adam to do the same, before pulling out of the sheriff's station parking lot and heading for Walt Henry's place.

He was pissed. And not just at the missing person's protocols either.

Crane had seen the confusion written all over Adam's face when Ed had unrolled and revealed the photograph. Sure, Crane realized that Adam didn't know about the picture. It was only being sold at The Brick Walk and Crane supposed the only other places where its copies could be found were inside girls' locker doors or on their bedroom walls. Still, there'd been such astonishment in Adam's eyes that it had rubbed Crane the wrong way. One that implied outright disbelief… that maybe their big brother didn't think Daniel was worthy of a portrait like that.

Crane hoped he was wrong. It wasn't that Adam had ever denied Daniel's talent in any discussions they'd had about him. Though admittedly, Adam barely ever sang his praises anymore, at least not since Daniel had started his senior year. Regardless, Crane had believed he and his oldest brother shared the same fears about Daniel pursuing a career in music: the career fluctuations; potential for brutal rejections despite his talent; an unsteady income and; the almost guaranteed exposure to the drug culture.

What was really sticking in Crane's craw right now though was the undeniable fact that Ed Sykes and his wife had taken the time to go see Daniel play in Stockton.

And Adam hadn't.

That people Ed and Marcy knew had seen Daniel or, at the least were aware of the band's fans. Just like Sophie was.

And just like the other people in Murphys who'd have nothing but good things to say about Daniel's band whenever Crane ventured into town.

Adam made that trip into Murphys every bit as often or more than Crane. He'd have to run into those same townsfolk whenever he was there. Christ, was Adam deaf as well as blind?

"Hey, easy on the moving parts," Adam barked as Crane banged the door closed upon climbing out of the International. He didn't actually remember pulling into Walt's yard. Maybe he should let Adam drive from now on?

Ignoring Adam's reprimand, Crane strode toward the entrance of Walt's shop, only to find himself halted by a firm grip. He shrugged it off. Or tried to; Adam held tight.

"Look, I know you're upset. So am I," Adam said, stating the obvious and using his familiar irritated-yet-trying-to-sound-reasonable tone. "Ed's doing everything he can though; I don't think even Charlie could do any more for us right now."

"You think—" Crane cut off his, it's only Ed I'm mad at? What was the point?

"I think what?" Adam asked, his obtuseness proving Crane right.

"Nothing." Crane said bitterly before glaring down at the hand still grasping his arm. Adam released him.

Not surprisingly, despite the ding of the bell on the screen door announcing their arrival inside the shop, Walt didn't meet them at the entrance. Crane could barely hear the sound of Hank Williams on the radio, overpowered as it was by the cacophony from the pneumatic hammer Crane could barely see Walt using beneath a late model Oldsmobile.

Or at least Crane assumed it was Walt since all he could identify was a pair of work-boot clad feet connected to dark coveralls sticking out from underneath the big sedan. Well that and knowing, other than Daniel being here occasionally, Walt was the sole proprietor and didn't have any employees.

Not wanting to startle the mechanic while he was working with the rivet gun, by unspoken agreement, Crane and Adam stood back impatiently, waiting for a break in the racket.

After what felt like hours, though Crane realized were merely anxious minutes later, the clamor stopped. Before Crane could engage his brain to speak, Adam noisily cleared his throat.

"Hey, Walt. Got a minute? It's Adam McFadden."

Crane heard Walt set down the rivet gun and stepped back further, allowing the mechanic ample room to roll out from beneath the car.

"Well hello there, boys." The warm welcome had begun even before Walt's smiling face appeared. "You're a mite early, aren't you?" He said as he sat up on the trolley.

Crane watched as Adam moved in to give the older man a hand. Walt accepted it, but not before grabbing a rag and attempting to wipe the grease from his hands.

"Say, where's Daniel?" Walt asked once he'd gotten to his feet.

And wasn't that the million dollar question?

Crane swallowed, felt his Adam's apple lodge in his throat.

The mechanic looked at both Crane and Adam for a long moment and his affable expression fell. "Uh oh," He said with a definite wince. "I had a feeling somethin' was up with that boy. Uh, you two aren't here to break a fella's bones now, are ya?"

No, they weren't there to break anyone's bones. Walt Henry was a friend and Crane was frankly grateful for his kindness and generosity toward their middle brother. And especially for his attentiveness as he relayed the details of his phone call with Daniel from the club the night before.

Apparently Walt had come in early, prior to Crane's call, and commenced work right away; neither hearing the phone ring nor stopping to check for messages. Learning just now that Daniel hadn't come from Stockton clearly wasn't sitting right with him either.

"I gotta admit, he did sound a bit grumpy," Walt stated after Adam had actually admitted that he and Daniel had butted heads last night. "Frustrated, I'd say. I guess that explains it." Shaking his head, he met Adam's gaze again, then Crane's. "But, he was all-fired determined to show up here to meet. And he said he'd bring you along… It just don't make much sense that he wouldn't make it home first."

Crane exchanged an uneasy glance with Adam. He knew his brother agreed with Walt, as did Crane. It didn't make any sense at all.

Which meant Daniel's whereabouts were still a mystery. Crane felt sick. And he wanted to bawl when Walt offered his prayers as he followed them out to the truck. "I'll keep an eye out for him; stick around some after I close shop. Just in case the boy does come by."

Thank-you, Walt," Crane said sincerely, his throat closing again and his eyes stinging.

Adam held out his hand. "If he does, I'd appreciate it if you could let us know. Maybe see if you can get him to call home?"

"You bet." Walt clasped hands with Adam before bowling Crane over with his next words. "Only… Adam? If it turns out Daniel's comin' here looking for shelter, he's got it. I'm not gonna turn my back on 'im."

Crane wasn't sure if the hint of edge he'd heard in Walt's voice came from defiance or protectiveness. Either way, he figured the tone would stir up their eldest's own possessive streak. Instead, Adam paused reflectively before replying with a subdued and strained, "Only a fool would, Walt."

It should have been a hallelujah moment. Crane just prayed that it hadn't come too late.

This was Stacy's fault; damn her.

Vince wouldn't even be in the middle of this shit-storm if the slut hadn't forced him to chase after her and then make matters worse by trying to bring out his jealous streak. Well, Daniel McFadden was going to die and the blood was gonna be on her hands.

Not Vince's.

And he had every intention of letting her know that.

He was still going to take off like he'd planned. Let nature take its course with the kid and head to the coast. Maybe San Francisco; maybe further south where it was warmer?

But he couldn't leave yet. Not until he was sure that little fucker was incapable of ratting Vince out to the cops. And he couldn't leave without finding Stacy. She was his woman and he needed to keep an eye on her; if nothing else to make sure she kept her mouth shut.

He was thinking clearer now. Should have known better than to make any important decisions before he'd had his morning hit. And after pulling into the familiar driveway and parking on the far side of the big Caddy, he couldn't resist brushing his hand atop the dash just above his truck's glove compartment. Just knowing his stash was in there was going to give him the confidence to walk up those front steps and knock on the door.

Stacy's car was gone and he vaguely remembered she'd had it packed up along with her little trailer. He knew she wouldn't go far though. Just like last time, she'd move near enough so that Vince could track her down again. Only this time she wasn't leaving an apartment owned by some faceless corporation. This time he'd get his answers right away.

"Yes?" He heard as an old lady finally opened – partially – the solid wooden door behind the screen one Vince had already swung open. He'd been pounding on it for who knew how long before he'd switched to the doorbell and pressed on it repeatedly too. "Can I help you, young man?"

She wasn't tiny or stooped over like Vince's grandmother but she had that same scratchy voice that he'd always found whiny and just plain irritating. "Yeah, I'm looking for Stacy Prokop," Vince replied, not bothering to beat around the bush.

She looked wary, like she wasn't going to answer him. Vince leaned in further, wrapped his hand around the doorjamb and saw the unease grow in her eyes. She wouldn't be able to close it unless he moved his fingers or she was willing to slam it and risk breaking them. "I'm afraid you've missed her," she finally said, though Vince highly doubted her sympathy. "She moved away this morning."

Vince inhaled deeply, trying to keep his cool. "I know that." Gritting his teeth, he ground out, "I need to know where she fucking went."

He shocked her with his words. He could tell by her sudden gasp and how her eyes grew big enough for him to tell they were light blue. He'd scared her. Good. Now they could get down to business.

Vince smiled smugly as the door parted further. His expression fell quickly though when the old lady took a step back and in her place emerged the double barrel of a shotgun. The man holding it was old too but, like his wife, didn't look feeble at all. Vince let go of the jamb and backed up one step, his heart racing now. This was not how he'd planned this encounter. The gun barrels continued to steadily follow him so he raised his hands and retreated even further, nearly falling off the edge of the porch.

"Now, son, even if we knew where Stacy went, we wouldn't tell you," the old man said firmly. "So, how about you turn around and go about your business and let us do the same?"

It wasn't really a question, more like a strong suggestion. One punctuated with the side-by-side pointed intently at Vince's chest.

Goddamn, that Stacy. He was going to have to chase her down again.

Later, though. After he was absolutely positive Daniel McFadden was dead.

"Here. You need to eat something," Hannah insisted as she placed a small plate in Adam's grasp. He'd accepted it reflexively, only realizing that it was food – a grilled cheese and ham sandwich to be exact – when the scent wafted to his nose.

Even if he had been hungry, Adam didn't think he'd manage to get anything past the block of unease lodged in his throat. "I'm not—" he tried to tell her but she halted his protest with the light, measured pressure of her nails sinking into his forearm.

He raised an eyebrow at that and she released him but not before whispering, "For them."

He looked around the room at his brothers and the block plummeted from his throat and splashed into his gut.

Ford was the only one of them seated at the dining table, a single bite taken out of his sandwich the only evidence that he was even aware there was a plate of food in front of him. His head was lowered but Adam knew the boy wasn't looking at what was typically his favorite lunch. Ford was lost in his thoughts or, more likely, lost in prayer.

It was only – only! – ten thirty but, when he'd come back in from town with Crane, Hannah had started making up the sandwiches. Hannah had worriedly told him that, like Adam, none of them had been able to stomach the omelets she and Brian had made up for breakfast. His bride wasn't going to let them miss another meal, insisting that, before he headed out to Stockton with Crane and Brian, they all needed to fuel up.

She was right.

Evan was due in from the Watsons' place any minute. The teen had phoned everybody he could think of and then some from Ben and Noreen's place and had called to say he was returning home with the assurance that someone would continue manning the Watson's telephone until Daniel was found. Not only that, they were stabling Diablo and sending Evan home with Noreen's car. That way, with both the Jeep and the International away from the Circle-Bar-Seven, those left at home would still have something to drive.

When this ordeal was over and Daniel was found, Adam would have to thank them. Ben and Noreen were just plain good, caring people.

Like Hannah McFadden.

"Brian, Crane... Hannah's right. Come eat," he told them, using his best brook-no-argument Dad voice. Moving to the table, he rested his free hand briefly on Ford's head. "That means you too, buddy," he added softly before setting down the plate Hannah had given him, taking his seat and forcing himself to follow his own advice.

Their fifteen year-old looked damn miserable but he did comply.

So did Brian, though with no more enthusiasm. He'd been staring at one of the copies Crane had of that black and white picture of Daniel. Willing the boy to somehow materialize from it, Adam was sure.

That just left— "Crane? Come sit down. You need to eat."

"What I need is to find my brother," he said caustically, throwing Adam an equally scathing look. "If I'd wanted to stand around and do nothing, I could've stayed back at the sheriff's department with Ed Sykes."

Adam understood the anger, he really did. Even if Crane was less likely to blow up than Ford, he was still a McFadden. Still had a temper. Brother number three just had a much longer fuse than the rest of them.

But Adam was getting tired of the dirty looks and the cutting comments. He felt guilty enough about his fight with Daniel. Was worried as hell that the boy had gotten himself into trouble or done something rash because his mind wasn't in a good place. If Danny was hurt because of being preoccupied with the troubles between them, Adam would never forgive himself.

He didn't need Crane, right or wrong, to push his buttons about the situation though. Because Adam had that shorter fuse and, next to Guthrie or Hannah, the last person he wanted to let loose on right now was Daniel's terrified roommate.

He was skirting Adam's limits though.

"Crane, honey, come on," Hannah said gently, grasping Crane's wrist in an obvious effort to lead him away from the phone he'd been standing sentinel over. "You said it yourself; you're not expecting Mike there for at least an hour."

The combination of logic and Hannah's tenderness appeared to be working and Adam watched as the coiled tension left Crane's body. Adam hated that something akin to defeat was what had replaced it though; the slump of those broad shoulders and moisture in Crane's eyes telltale signs of how narrow the margin was between the kid crumbling to pieces and going ballistic.

Adam knew Hannah was the right person to tackle Crane's fragile emotions right now so he left his wife to her considerable talents. He knew Crane's innate civility was no match for Hannah's tender yet relentless persuasiveness. She'd get the kid to eat something.

It would've worked too – Crane was allowing Hannah to usher him to the table – except the phone started to ring.

Fearful of bad, no, horrible news, Adam did not want Crane to be the one to answer it. "No, let me," he started but it was no use. Crane was closest and, with one long stride had reached the telephone table and grabbed up the receiver.

"Hello?" He said shakily as the rest of the family caught up to him and gathered around.

Crane's shoulders fell but Adam could see in the kid's strained expression that the news wasn't bad. It just wasn't any news at all.

"No, nothing yet, Sophie," he said sorrowfully and Adam moved in to rest his palm against his brother's back.

"Here, let me take it," he offered and Crane nodded, interrupting Sophie to tell her who was taking over the call. Knowing how anxious Crane was to hit the road, Adam cupped the mouthpiece, promising, "I'll keep it short."

He didn't.

It turned out that Sophie wasn't just calling for an update. She was calling for advice on what to do about Guthrie. The youngest McFadden sibling, still unaware of the drama unfolding at home, wanted to talk to Daniel.

Sophie quickly explained that, after breakfast, the boys had been flipping through the Saturday morning newspaper in search of the funny pages. It was the San Francisco "Chronicle", not the local paper and not one the McFadden family subscribed to anymore. After their parents' deaths, "The Chronicle" was one of many small luxuries abandoned in the name of cost-savings.

Once Daniel was found safe and sound, they'd have to pick up today's edition though. Because, apparently Daniel's band was not only mentioned in it but a small picture of them had been published too. The details were fuzzy, Adam shamefully zoning out – concentrating on not throwing up the sandwich he'd forced down his gullet – while Sophie relayed something about an out of town dining article about The Brick Walk Restaurant and Nightclub.

"Eddie saw it first!" Guthrie gushed once Adam had Sophie put the boy on the line. "Why didn't Daniel tell us?" Guthrie asked incredulously, not giving Adam a chance to respond. Not that he had an answer. "You think maybe he doesn't know? I mean, it's about the club and… what's ambience mean anyway?"

"It means—" Adam finally began to respond before promptly cutting himself off. Because, really… the definition of 'ambiance' was what he so desperately needed to tell his baby brother right now.

"Where is he anyway? Can I tell Daniel? I wanna tell him!"

He couldn't keep up the pretense anymore. Adam closed his eyes. Opened them to Hannah's slim fingers threading through his. "Uh, Guth?" He started, faltering before finding strength in his wife's sympathetic gaze. "The thing is. I'm not exactly sure where he is just now. He didn't come home last night."

"What do you mean he didn't come home?" Guthrie demanded; his voice high-pitched enough to make it clear that Adam had failed miserably at keeping his own worry from the boy. "Where's Crane? He was supposed to be with Crane!"

Adam winced, knew Crane would have heard the damning words thanks to Guthrie's shrill tone. He couldn't bring himself to look over at their already heart-sick brother. He'd trust Hannah, who'd released Adam's hand and stepped away, to look after him. She'd likely do a better job at it than her husband would right now anyway.

"He didn't go with Daniel last night, squirt," Adam said gently.

"How come?"

God, he sounded so young.

"Crane and I just had some last minute stuff to work on before the dance."

He knew it was a huge understatement and that he was being evasive. But, he had neither the time nor the stomach to explain everything to Guthrie. Besides, Adam still had to protect the little guy from some things; like the fact that his guardian could be such a monumental failure at parenthood sometimes.

Apparently Guthrie already knew that though.

"You mean some Daniel stuff." The tone was challenging this time and suddenly Guthrie didn't sound anything like their innocent little brother at all.

It hadn't been a question. Hell, even if it had been, they both already knew the answer.

Adam spoke up anyway; the silence unbearable. "Guthrie, I—"

"I wanna come home."

The demand was just as resolute as Guthrie's last words had been. Only, this time, hints of Adam's baby boy were creeping back into his voice. Adam could hear Guthrie's struggle against tears and felt his own eyes well up when he assured him he'd get Sophie to drive him home right away.

It killed Adam that he wasn't going to be home to comfort Guthrie; to hold him in his arms. But, he couldn't be in two places at once and, as much as he still wanted to deny it, he felt it in every ounce of his being that Daniel was in need of him more.

He couldn't have felt more pride when he broke the news to Guthrie, told him that his big brothers would already be gone by the time Sophie brought him home.

"I know," Guthrie acknowledged; his voice hitching. "You gotta find Daniel." And then he picked up speed with a much needed dose of his familiar enthusiasm. "You'll find him, Adam; you will. You always find us when we're lost!"

At those words, Adam's eyes filled again. He didn't deserve that kind of faith. Prayed with everything he had that he wouldn't let Guthrie and the rest of his family down. Prayed harder that he hadn't irrevocably let Daniel down already.

.

To be continued.

Endnotes: For fun and, because I don't think it's readily available out there in cyberspace the way some of the other 7B47B promo shots are, I've uploaded a link to the photograph of 'Daniel' mentioned in this chapter to my live-journal site. FFNET doesn't allow outside links though so, to access it, just copy the URL below but replace "x" with "." and "s" with "/".

http:ssmay7ficxlivejournalxcoms49087xhtml