A/N I do not own Rookie Blue, although I'd be much happier if I did. So sick of waiting for new episodes. It makes my heart hurt. ENJOY! Reviews have been wonderful so I'd like to thank you all. Also, I've just made a twitter IMTOTESAWRITER Drop me a line! :D
Phillip Couperet used to have a chip on his shoulder. For years, he was the leader of a ring of men responsible for ninety per cent of the meth, speed and cocaine that came into the city. He was rich beyond imagination having reaped the benefits of the business for a long time and untouchable to law enforcement. What was strange about Phillip wasn't his occupation, especially not in this day and age. It was the fact that even though he could afford to buy the moon, he still lived in his family home in Scarborough.
He dressed nicely, but was never outlandish. He was the first modest drug dealer Sam had ever met. He looked like a car salesman with fists big enough to bend concrete pylons. Usually, he was quiet; the strong and silent type. He would sit in court or interrogations with his bottom lip pouted, looking bored and superior.
The man sitting in that room today looked nothing like the old Phillip Couperet.
"I…don't know what to say." He stared down at the picture of McNally on the table between him and Jerry.
"What happened to her?"
Jerry glanced at the mirror. Sam watched with a frown.
It was rare to have Couperet on his own, which is maybe what made him act differently by not being around his business partners. Sam still considered his behaviour surprisingly normal.
"Officer McNally was abducted from her home about nineteen hours ago. Where were you last night at around nine?"
Couperet took the picture in his hands.
"I was at a bar. Hook, Line and Sinker. You can call them."
"Oh, we'll be doing that." Jerry smiled.
Sam watched the man with confusion. He was pretty good at reading people, but he had to be mistaken on this account.
Couperet looked sad.
When Jerry had mentioned Andy's name, Sam registered genuine shock on Couperet's face. He wouldn't be as foolish as to immediately believe that Phillip was innocent; Phillip was a brilliant liar.
It was just strange that he hadn't even asked for a lawyer, although it was common knowledge The Rouge Brothers were arrogant. They thought they were invincible, and they hadn't been proven wrong yet. Phillip's demeanor was different, though.
"How old was Katie when she was killed?" Jerry asked.
Couperet's eyes flashed dangerously and Sam recognised the old tough bastard inside trying to escape.
"Too young." He answered, his eyes dropping back down to Andy's picture.
"And so is your officer." He placed the photo between them and pushed it back toward Jerry. "I'm not your guy."
Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. His heart thumped unevenly as he retrieved it.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's Traci."
"What's up?"
"I just got the court order for Lionel's DNA sample. I need you to go pick him up. I'm on my way back to the station."
"You got it."
Jerry paused, watching the bigger man with a ponderous stare. He sucked in a breath and retrieved a sheet of paper from his folder, sliding it across the table for Phillip to read.
He looked down at it with indifference before rolling his eyes and reading it.
"Know any of those people listed?"
Couperet frowned and squinted at the sheet or paper before his face went blank, swept clean of any emotion.
"No." the word was clear and resolute.
"Can I go now?"
Jerry was silent and Couperet took it as acquiescence. Sam watched as the hulking, two hundred pound drug lord left the room quietly.
Jerry finally let Sam back into the interrogation room when they brought Lionel in. He sat on the opposite side of the table as the forensic specialist swabbed the inside of his mouth with a Q-tip.
She deposited it into an evidence bag as Lionel looked up at Sam who stood stoically in the corner.
Lionel wiped the corner of his mouth and stood up, his lawyer following him as he went.
Jerry shared a look with Sam.
"Come on," he nodded his head toward the door. "I'll get you a coffee."
They walked into the hallway together. Luke was walking toward them, Steri strips over his nose and a bruise blossoming over his left eye. Sam glanced at his damaged hand again; it didn't feel like he'd inflicted that much damage. Somehow, it didn't feel like enough, though. After everything he did wrong.
Sam tried to restrain himself, but he didn't need to. Luke avoided them by doubling back and disappearing into his office. Only Jerry's hand on his arm stopped him from chasing the asshole down the hall.
It felt like this was all he was doing; watching interrogations or getting held back from beating the shit out of somebody. He didn't feel like he was actively looking for Andy. He didn't feel like he was doing anything to help.
"I'm going crazy, here, Jerry." Sam's eyebrows pulled together, trying to swallow the lump of pain in his throat.
He bent at the waist, stretching his arms out to reach his knees. He shuffled, hunched, over to the bench seat against the wall. Jerry followed suit, taking a seat next to him.
"Everything's—"
"Don't fucking say it" Sam spluttered, holding back the shattering anger and grief that threatened to spill over as tears.
He looked Jerry dead in the eye as if he'd just betrayed him.
"Don't say it. I'm sick of hearing it, because that's all we have. We hope she's okay. But you don't really know. What if she's gone?!"
"Look at me," Jerry demanded, clenching the sleeve of Sam's shirt. "It is not your job to decide when it's over." He spoke through clenched teeth.
"You are not allowed to fall apart right now. You can't let Andy pick up the slack. She's out there right now, fighting to come home and what would she think if you gave up on her?" he spoke quickly, quietly, and acidly.
"This isn't about you. It's about McNally. And if you're gonna give up on her then you're not the cop I thought you were. You're not the Sam Swarek I know." Jerry released his grip on Sam, shoving him slightly.
His words penetrated into Sam's skull, quaked his confidence even more, but solidified his resolve. Jerry stood up then, leaving the broken officer to think. Sam stood, too.
"Wait," his voice was weak before he cleared his throat and swallowed his self-pity. "Give me something to do."
Jerry looked back at him, probably evaluating whether or not it was a good idea. He seemed to deduce it was, because a sense of resignation shone through his eyes. His wore his signature expression of pursed lips, before pulling a slip of paper out of the file he held, handing it over to Sam.
"Go and look at the people on this list. Maybe one of them saw Andy yesterday."
Sam glanced at the names of the four people, including Lionel, on the list of the Freshman Mentoring Program.
Jerry walked back the way he came.
Sam clenched the piece of paper in his hands and trudged off to the pit, commandeering a free computer and looking up the addresses of the names listed.
Sam called the school and got them to send their student files. They were very co-operative now that one of their employees was a potential suspect. Sam downloaded the files onto the system and printed them out. Each file had each student's I.D. photograph attached. He looked at each photo, imprinting them to memory although they were all over ten years old.
He stuffed each file into the bigger file that was Andy's investigation. Jerry had stripped it bare, leaving nothing behind but the indecipherable little post-it notes that Andy had written. She had terrible hand writing.
Jessica Reid. Female, currently resided in Miami, Florida. She was off the table. It was unlikely she would have travelled all the way up to Toronto to kidnap a rookie officer even if she had been sniffing around. Besides, Jessica Reid would have been hard pressed to overpower Andy, especially if it was a hand-to-hand struggle.
Carl DeLuca lived downtown and had no criminal record.
Lionel was pretty much taken care of.
Lastly, there was Andrew Summers.
Sam sifted through the post-it notes stuck to the back of the folder. He'd seen one with what looked like the name 'Andrew' scrawled messily over it.
Andrew Summers-deceased 2006
"Oh," well that saved some time.
Sam wrote down Carl's address on his notepad. He caught sight of Peck and Collins talking by the locker rooms. It looked like the end of their shift.
He whistled at them. Their eyes shot towards him.
"You guys wanna come for a ride?"
"Where are we going?" Gail asked, rubbing her hands together eagerly as they walked over to Sam.
"Carl DeLuca," Sam handed her his I.D. photo. "That picture is about twelve years old, but we're gonna pay him a visit. He was on McNally's list of suspects for Katie Couperet's murder."
Gail turned the picture over in her hands, nodding.
"Let's go." Collins agreed.
The three of them walked briskly together down the hall towards the parking lot.
Epstein noticed the atmosphere of purpose surrounding them as they left the station.
"Can I help?" he poked his head out of the break room.
"Stay here and keep looking." Sam called over his shoulder as they disappeared around the corner.
Sam realised as they all piled into the cruiser—Peck riding shotgun—that nobody had gone home yet. Every single rookie was here still. Collins read through Andy's case files, and the student files on the way to Carl's apartment. He spouted questions on the way. Gail sat there, passive, but looking worried.
Sam looked up at the sky through the windscreen, wondering if Andy could see it, too, wherever she was.
He was beginning to feel numb to everything; the cold, the darkness. It was like he was living outside of his body, and maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this way he could work more efficiently. He could stop himself from getting too worked up. He could be methodical and pick up things everyone else had overlooked because they were too emotional about it.
But, night began settling over the city, the warmth of the sun dropping below the horizon and the moisture in the air creating an icy sheen over everything it touched.
The window of time was getting smaller and smaller; Sam could literally feel Andy's breaths becoming shallow, her pulse slowing into silence. The silence was deafening. The past few hours were an infinite spiral of dead-ends and self-loathe. It's like he was a million miles underground with no strength to dig himself out, no voice to call for help. He wasn't even the one in trouble. He kept seeing Andy's profile out of the corner of his eye, hearing her voice.
His UC operation paled in comparison to how much he missed Andy right now. She wasn't just gone, she was taken and hurt, and Sam was dying not knowing where she was.
He worried his lip with his teeth as they sped toward the streets of downtown.
The trees lining the road towards Carl's house were skeletal and bare, stripped of colour through the bitter winter.
"It should be this one right up here." Gail pointed. "Ninety-eight."
Sam pulled up to the kerb and killed the engine. All three got out and bounded up the stoop. Sam pressed on the button next to Carl's name. There was no answer. Suspicion immediately followed.
Sam held his finger down on the button impatiently.
"Come on, you son of a bitch." He growled to himself.
"It says here, he works at a grill a couple of blocks away," Gail piped up.
"What are you talking about?" Sam beat his fist against the front door, then ran his finger over every button on the list.
"On this post-it." She held it up to show them both, then read it. "Carl DeLuca," she paused, squinting closely at the note under the dull light of the street lamp. "Quinn's."
"Oh," Nick's eyes widened. "I know that place. I've been there a few times with my brother."
Gail gave him a look.
"What?" he said. "They do a good grilled tuna."
Gail rolled her eyes.
Sam bolted down the steps and onto the sidewalk, throwing himself back into the squad car.
"Come on," he crowed impatiently as Collins got in, closing his door.
They roared down the street; Collin's shouted out directions.
Quinn's Bar and Grill shone like a beacon in the middle of a dull street. It was the only food spot on the strip and it got a roaring trade.
The place was filled to the brim with hungry patrons. Sam could feel his stomach groan in protest as they stepped inside.
Attention settled on them pretty quickly, the inane restaurant chatter ceased immediately, like pulling the needle off a vinyl record.
Sam looked around the bar, the other two officers flanking him.
"Can I help you, officers?" Sam spotted Carl wiping his hands on a dish rag by the door to the kitchen.
"Yeah, could you step outside with us, please?" Sam held his arm out to the front doors.
Carl watched him with confusion, then a nod. He leant down behind the bar and Sam's hand flinched toward his gun. He produced a jacket and Sam relaxed only slightly, waiting for Carl to go first, following Peck and Collins out into the snow.
"What is this about?" he frowned, curling his arms around his middle to shield himself from the cold.
"Where were you last night between the hours of eight and ten p.m?" Sam ground out.
Carl's eyes glazed over for a moment.
"I don't know. I think I was finishing up here, and then I went home."
"Got anybody who can corroborate that?" Collins asked.
Carl nodded. "Sure." He jerked his thumb behind him. "My barman, James. And the CCTV."
"James, who?" Collin's asked.
"Magill." Carl answered, watching Collin's pen move across his notepad.
Sam pulled a picture from his pocket, diverting his attention back.
"Have you seen this woman?"
Carl leaned in closer, his brow furrowed deep.
"Uh, yeah, sure. She came in the other day asking about a tutor I had in college." He shrugged when none of them said anything. "What? Was she not a cop or something? Am I in trouble?"
"Officer McNally has gone missing." Collins provided when Sam didn't answer.
His teeth were clenched together, the muscles in his jaw straining.
"Yeah, and you're probably one of the last people she spoke to about the case she was working," Gail added, her voice smooth but condescending.
"I don't know what you want me to say." Carl shook his head. "I don't know what happened to her. I haven't seen her since she came to talk to me on Sunday. James will tell you, he was there, too."
Sam looked sceptically over at the bar tender; a mop of jet black hair and about half an inch of facial hair covered half of his face.
"Don't worry, we'll be speaking with him, too."
Carl shrugged again.
"I'm really sorry I can't help you. She was really nice."
Sam's eye twitched at that last part, he felt as though Carl was trying to taunt him.
"We'll be in touch." Gail said and Carl disappeared back inside.
They watched as he deposited his jacket back under the bar. The bartender, James, leant over towards Carl. They exchanged words then glanced back at the officers staring at them from behind the glass.
"I'll get Magill's statement. You guys wait in the car." Sam ordered, stepping back into the warmth of the restaurant.
He made his way up to the bar, nodding his head at James who nodded back in acknowledgement.
"What'll it be?" he wiped the table in front of him before leaning his hands on it.
"Carl's alibi." Sam clicked his pen and smiled at James.
He sighed.
A piece of paper dropped onto the desk in front of Sam.
"What's this?" he looked up at Jerry's retreating form.
"That's your warrant for the CCTV from Quinn's."
"Seriously? That didn't even take you an hour." Sam jumped to his feet.
"I'm a miracle worker. Thank me later." He called over his shoulder.
"You can ride shotgun if you want." Sam caught Dov with his head buried in Couperet's phone records inside the break room.
His head shot up to attention like a German Shepherd's.
"Yes." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I was getting nowhere with that crap."
Sam and Dov sat in the cramped little office behind the kitchen of Quinn's. It smelled like overcooked meat and stale food. There were files stacked up on shelves above them, a tiny brown desk in the corner with a computer atop it. They were still bustling with trade, so nobody would be disturbing them.
Carl had rolled his eyes when they'd shown him the warrant and almost got a foot through his face before Sam reconsidered.
He chewed on his thumb nail as they ran through the black and white footage over the last few hours. Dov rewound the footage back to eight p.m last night. It was still busy, the place was full of staff. Sam scoped the screen for a sign of Carl.
"Right there." He pointed to the kitchen.
The screen was separated into areas of footage; the kitchen, the back room where they were sitting, the bar, the delivery dock, and the dining floor.
He could recognised Carl's height and posture, his slicked back hair, hunched over the stove, flipping something in a frying pan.
They sped it up a little, keeping watch. A lot of the people left at eight-forty-five when it died down. Carl was cleaning the kitchen, and didn't stop until ten-thirty-two.
"Jesus Christ." Sam muttered bitterly. "So, he's clean."
They copied the footage files onto a USB and took it with them. They left.
Once they got back into the cruiser, Sam pounded his fists against the steering wheel as Dov watched awkwardly.
"We're one step closer." Dov said when he'd calmed down.
Sam let his head fall back against the head rest, closing his eyes. The night was ageing and Sam couldn't stop seeing her face.
"This is fucking hopeless."
Andy was rocking her chair from side to side. She broke the balance and plummeted to her side, gritting her teeth before she hit the floor and muffling a shriek of pain when she did.
Her eyes had adjusted and she could see more clearly. The floor was concrete and fucking freezing to the touch. Each wall had a steel shelfs pushed against it. There was a light bulb in the middle of the ceiling above her, and something that looked like a motor mounted on the corner of the wall she faced. She could see the exhaust fan.
The shelves lining the walls were like wire racks, rusty and disused for a while. She deduced she was in some sort of giant freezer, like a commercial one. She had managed to scoot her chair closer to one of the shelves before tipping herself over to reach the rusty end. The wire had come away from the frame and bent down to the floor. She had turned her back to it before rocking the chair so she could use her restrained hands to grasp the wire. It was as thick as a drinking straw and rough to touch. She could feel it disintegrating in her hands from the rust. Her left arm was aching under her weight and the back of the chair crushing it, but she pressed on, jerking the broken wire towards her. The shelf squeaked with every tug, wobbling behind her. She gave it one final pull and it snapped off.
Last time she'd broken out of cuffs was the night before her first day at fifteen, when they hazed all the new rookies at The Black Penny. Long before the nightmare started.
She was weak and in agony. She tried moving some more, but couldn't get up the momentum. Her hand was getting numb with the back of the chair cutting off the circulation to her arm. She fiddled blindly with the wire and the lock, trying to get the right angle.
She almost sobbed with happiness when she heard the little click of the release, the metal springing back. She pulled her right hand out, bringing it around to her front, rolling her aching wrist. She reached out and grabbed the leg of the shelf, pulling herself up from her side and back into a sitting position. She pulled her left hand away then, bringing it to her lap and letting the feeling return. Her wrists stung when she touched them, a ring of chaffed, raw skin circled them like bracelets.
Just breathe.
Everything around him moved like a blur, every sound a faded static.
Sam could feel the exhaustion creeping up with him as he made it back to the station with Dov. He stole away into the locker room for a moment and sat down where it was dark and quiet. He stared at his hands and wondered if he could ever do this job without Andy.
If they didn't find her…
He stood up to pace, then stopped to bury his fist in a locker. The metal yielded and crumpled under his fist and it was almost satisfying.
He got up then, and made his way out. He walked past the parade room and stopped. Collins, Peck, Epstein, Nash, and Diaz had set up half a dozen white boards with the case, tacking everything out of Andy's case file onto the boards, and anything we'd found so far.
They were sat on the desks, staring up at the boards. Sam walked in to join them, staring in awe at their creation. Their set out was meticulous.
"'scuse me," a voice said from behind him.
Luke walked in then, avoiding Sam's eyes.
"I've got results back on DNA and particulates." He held up a thin folder.
Sam stormed forward to snatch it from his grasp, circling the podium before turning to face everybody, including Luke.
He opened it up and read.
"No DNA found on Eric or Tara." Sam announced disappointingly. "Metallic dust, bleach, and…traces of commercial grade chemicals were found on both bodies."
Sam frowned.
"And bone shavings?"
He looked back at Luke.
"None of them had any injuries that would result in bone shavings…" it wasn't exactly a question.
"Let me see that," Epstein reached for the results and scanned through it.
"It says it's from animals; a combination of swine, and bovine DNA."
Everybody looked at Epstein.
"Pig and cow DNA." He elaborated.
"What the hell does that all mean?" Gail asked the question on everybody's lips.
"Some kind of farm?" Diaz suggested. "A butcher?"
"A slaughter house!" Gail shouted, standing up suddenly.
"Oh my god, Andy and I went to scope out a slaughter house last week when we found the bodies on Key Street. It was supposed to be linked to The Rouge Brothers." She explained in a rush.
Sam glanced at Luke, then back at Gail.
"You sure you didn't just get some on you then transfer it to the bodies when you found them?"
Gail shook her head vehemently.
"We didn't touch them, neither of us did."
"We only found Eric that day, anyway. The techs found Tara the day after."
"Alright, let's go check it out." He announced.
Luke stood there for a moment, unsure until Sam nodded. They shared an unspoken agreement.
I will never stop hating you for what you've done, but right now we need to find her.
Luke followed everybody out as they broke into groups of two, jumping into empty squad cars. Gail pulled out first because she knew exactly where to go. Sam followed closely behind, Luke in the passenger seat.
It was bizarre, had never happened before, and most definitely would never happen again. But they were civilised and silent as they sped towards a glimmer of hope.
They slowed down and coasted to a stop about a hundred yards away from the slaughter house.
Sam pulled his radio towards his mouth.
"Peck, Epstein, come with us. Nash, Diaz and Collins stay out here and keep watch. And somebody keep Jerry posted."
"10-4"
"Got it."
Sam looked sidelong at the man that made his blood boil.
"Let's go."
"Peckstein, we're moving in." Luke said into his hand held radio.
They opened their doors and got out, shivering against the unforgiving wind.
Both men ducked low along the chain link fence that surrounded the warehouse, stopping when they found a gaping hole in the wire. Peck and Epstein caught up to them then, ducking through the hole one at a time.
It was overgrown on the other side, like the marsh on Key Street where the bodies were found. This didn't look good for The Rouge Brothers, or Phillip. The grass danced, waving to them in the breeze without making a sound. The ground was hard and cold.
Sam was up front but paused and turned, making a huddle with the others.
"Make no sound, keep on your radios. You see anybody? Call for help."
Everybody nodded.
He made a motion with his hand, pointing towards the double doors on the front of the building. Sam touched Luke's elbow and jerked his head towards a rusted door on the side. A dozen rotting wooden pallets were leaning up against the wall, obscuring the door. Luke followed behind Sam, their guns already out and ready. They chased their shadows toward the deserted structure. The moonlight coloured them pale, bathing the space in an eerie glow.
Sam pulled the junk out of the way, placing it instead of dropping it on the ground. He tried the door knob. It was rusty and stubborn, but unlocked. He pulled it open, wincing as the metal screeched at the movement.
Luke aimed his gun at the door as Sam pulled it open, just enough to squeeze through the gap. Sam held his gun out then, his arms rigid, his hands firm on the black metal. He held his breath as they disappeared into the dark.
Their shadows stood in the light pouring through the open door. Sam pulled out his flashlight with his left hand, resting his gun hand on top of his left wrist, and running it across the room.
Luke's light followed, searching.
They must be in some kind of office. Sam toed stacks of paper out of the way with his boot, eyeing the door in the right corner.
Andy heard something in the distance. It echoed; the sound of grinding metal, like a door opening.
After expending so much energy on freeing herself from her cuffs, she'd passed out. She'd been searching around the room on her hands and knees for a way out. She knew where the door was, the thin line of light outlining it made it pretty obvious. But there was no door knob; the door must be locked from the other side. She'd thrown herself against it about a hundred times with no luck.
Andy had been trying to disassemble one of the shelves, pulling the corner leg off to use it as a crowbar so she can pry the door away. She paused in his ministrations at the sound of footsteps.
Her breathing came faster, her heart fluttered.
Sam led the way through the door and down a corridor to their left. Two doors sat on their right side; bathrooms.
They checked both, then continued.
There was another door before the corridor opened up into a bigger space. They heard a noise and paused. Sam looked back at Luke with his flashlight.
They glanced at the door ahead and shuffled toward it, pulling on it gently, then with more force when it wouldn't yield.
Andy held her breath, covering her mouth. Tears sprung from her eyes as she heard him outside, trying to get back in.
She grabbed the chair and stood back against the wall beside the door to catch him by surprise. She shuddered, gripping the back rest with bloodied hands.
This is the end.
Luke nodded at Sam, holding out his hand for his flash light. Luke held them both on the door as Sam pulled his leg up and kicked hard. Sam grabbed his flashlight off Luke and went in. He spun around the room, putting light in every corner.
It was empty.
The door opened.
He was back. The sight of him caught her off guard and her scream got stuck in her throat. She pressed her lips together as he stepped in. She lunged forward, bringing the chair down over his head. He yelled in shock and Andy took the opportunity to run. He'd dropped to his knees from her attack. She shoved her hands into his back; he dropped face-first into the floor and she ran out through the door. The only light had been streaming through a crack in the roof just outside of her pseudo-prison. But it was pitch black now. She couldn't see. It was like running through ink, she could barely see her hand in front of her when she went further into the shadows. She leaned her back against a wall, getting her bearings and trying to decide on a direction to run in.
She heard footsteps and breathing and started shuffling quietly down the corridor, keeping close to the wall.
Something clicked; a light shone in her face. A hand shot out, catching her by the throat. She screamed.
Sam's head shot up at the sound. He didn't wait. He knew. He ran.
Her screaming got louder, closer, and he got more desperate.
"Andy!" He screamed.
His feet pounded the concrete.
He could hear Luke coming up behind. There was no use trying to keep quiet now; at least not for Sam.
He came to the open space at the end of the hall, shining his light over the room.
"Andy!"
There were muffled movements and something thudded to the ground. His ears pricked up like a dog's. He ran towards the sound, down the hall at the opposite end of the space filled with steel tables and hooks handing from the roof. He held his gun ahead of him, keeping his light steady.
There was something on the floor up ahead and then everything slowed down.
He heard footsteps thundering up behind him as he got closer.
Sam had never been very close to anyone; nobody had ever awakened this feeling inside him. The thought of someone trying to hurt her made him insane. It was ridiculous and primal, but so ingrained there was no way he could control the murderous rage that ignited in his belly when he saw Andy lying there on the ground, beaten, bloody, and unmoving.
The panic sat on his chest like a lead weight, nausea rising up in his throat. He saw her and that's all there was; Andy and her agony. Sam's eyes burned as his feet carried him frantically toward her. She has to be alive because Sam couldn't see a future without her.
He dropped to his knees before her.
The warehouse echoed with the percussion of his heartbeat. It pumped hard and fast yet he couldn't seem to breathe. Her skin was cool and pallid; she looked like she'd been sleeping for years.
Her lips were blue, and she was covered in blood, her skin covered in grime and dust.
He reached out and tried to find her pulse. Luke stood at his side. Gail and Dov caught up. Gail knelt down at Andy's feet.
Sam heard Luke call it in.
"Go." Sam ordered, looked up at Luke. "He was just here. Keep looking."
Dov took off with the detective in the dark, their footprints written in the dust.
"Andy," he breathed.
Her blood pulsed sluggishly. She was holding on. He leaned forward, putting his ear close to her nose. She was still breathing.
Her neck was freshly bruised, a brand new gash on her forehead welled with blood. Sam shrugged off his jacket, laying it over her to keep her warm.
"Should we move her?" Gail asked.
Sam shook his head.
"She might have a head injury." He answered. "Go get a medi-kit out of the trunk."
Gail stood up.
"Watch yourself. He might still be here." He warned before her footsteps went quiet.
He kept his flash light pointed at the wall above where she lay, so the wall reflected a softer light onto her body.
"Andy," he whispered, leaning his face down. "Andy."
He touched his forehead to hers.
"Andy."