A/N: You all have been waiting long enough, and here is your treat. We have reached the climax of this part of our journey and I hope that it does justice for you all.
Reviewers: I know that I typically reply to all of you individually, but I have been working the better part of today on this chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy it. I figured you'd like the chapter better than replies. :)
And without further ado, here is the fourteenth chapter of what I fondly call 'Luxury.'
They had left her alone for two days; at least she assumed it had been about that long. Her throat was parched and her lips were cracked. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Her limbs were stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. He back ached painfully, she could hardly move. Sleep had been elusive and she had spent most of her time in a painful haze.
John stood by, watching her. She looked bad. She had lost too much weight. Her eyes looked sunken in. Just by looking at her, you could see her spirit was broken. She had been with them too long. Don was starting to wonder what Calory had set them up for. She wasn't supposed to have been here for more than a month, but Calory kept coming up with reasons why she couldn't be sold. Now her back had to heal. They couldn't ship her the way she was. The party was tonight and Don had removed every trace of Callie from the house. After the scare with Luke it had become pertinent. It was crowding the back room and it was John's job to make sure the door was securely locked. The dinner party was for Luke's department and the house would be full of cops.
She was fading in and out of consciousness and John watched her sway where she sat. They needed her alive, or this would have all been for nothing. He walked to her and tipped the contents of his water bottle into her mouth. It took her a moment to realize it was water and then she drank greedily. He left the room and bolted it shut behind him. She lay gingerly on her stomach and attempted to sleep.
The airport was crowded and Arizona stood impatiently for her flight. She didn't have the energy to pace. The seats were all taken by families with screaming and bored children. Normally she would have loved the sight of children; she would have volunteered her services to entertain them. But now, she would hardly keep a halfhearted smile on her face, much less genuine happiness. She had expected a call or at least a text from Teddy or Mark. But she hadn't heard from them since after the conference yesterday. She had a ten hour flight coming up with a layover in Illinois. They just didn't want to worry her, she knew, but she missed their companionship. They would ask her about her trip when she got back. If there was any news about Callie, she would know. She looked up as her plane was called. Sighing, she walked forward, joining the line of other people on their way out of D.C.
The party was a hit.
Everyone had complimented them on the house, and the food. Dinner had been fine and pleasant. The secretaries had mostly kept to themselves while the guys all hung out. Then the alcohol had started pouring and the secretaries had gotten much more flirty. They were getting slightly tipsy. And the men were getting drunk. The music had started out at a decent volume, but person after person had turned it up louder and louder until the walls were vibrating. But they weren't worried about noise complaints, most of the cops in Seattle were in the house and inebriated. When the dancing had started, John had two girls wrapped around him. Luke led a girl upstairs. Don had a girl on the couch, on top of him. And the other cops were in similar positions.
But things were winding down, only a few of the girls remained, and some of the cops had already taken off. They had to work the next morning. One of the secretaries, Charlotte, had practically thrown herself at him all night, and John was getting a little frisky. When she asked where the bathroom was, he didn't think twice about sending her off down the hall. As she walked away, he smacked her ass and then went to grab another beer.
Charlotte was tipsy, but not unaware of what she was doing. She tried each door but none of them held the bathroom behind them. She stumbled along down the hall a bit further where a bolted door caught her eye. It fascinated her in her inebriated state and she played with it, trying to pry it open.
Callie heard someone playing with the lock and she quickly sat up in the kneeling position she had been left in. Her dreams had been full of Arizona, and tears were still welled up in her eyes. She waited. They were probably drunk. That only meant bad things for her.
As she fumbled with the door, she found it was stuck. The bolt had slipped out easily enough but the door itself was stuck. Frustrated, and with increasing curiosity, she threw her weight into the door and forced it open. She stumbled inside and then stopped short. Her eyes grew wide in bewilderment. She looked around at what looked something like a medieval torture chamber. This was not the bathroom. Then her gaze dropped to the floor and she took a few steps back at the lifeless eyes staring back at her. All the thoughts of alcohol flew from her mind as she stared at the woman who's picture had been up at the precinct for almost three months.
Callie stared back at her, incredulous that the woman had made it into the room. She was most certainly not Don, John, or Luke. She could not speak for shock, but her eyes pleaded with the woman. Please help me.
Charlotte stared at the woman, beaten, shackled. Her eyes were so dark and full of tears. She nodded at her and backed out of the room quickly. She pulled it shut again and slid the bolt back into place. Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed herself. She would have to act as though nothing had happened, and when she left, she would have to go straight to the precinct. Klein needed to know.
Arizona had settled into her flight. The red eye was not her typical flight, but she had wanted to get to Seattle as quickly as possible. She knew she should sleep, but she couldn't. All she could think about was how dark and dreary and Callie-less her apartment was going to be when she finally dragged her luggage into it. Normally the kids in the seats behind her would have amused her, but all she wanted to do now was snap at them to be quiet and behave themselves. The man sitting beside her was giving her strange looks. She turned over and stared out the window. There was no feeling anymore. She had no feelings anymore. Oh Callie.
The secretary stumbled back to John and kissed him, but signaled to her companions that it was time to go. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him after one last kiss and a "call me." The guys showed her and her friends to the door and then locked it behind them. They waited until the cars had pulled away from the house before running and tripping over themselves to get to the back room.
"Klein!" she nearly screamed, throwing open the door to the precinct. "Klein! We have an emergency!"
"What is it, Charlotte?" he asked, coming out of his office. "I thought you were at Courtain's party? How did you get here? Did you drive?"
"Sir!" she snapped, grabbing his attention. "I found Calliope Torres."
Klein's head shot up and he stared at her. "What?"
"At Courtain's." She quickly gave him all the details.
"In a back room?" He asked. She nodded. "Damn you Luke! That fucking bastard."
"Sir we need to get her out, like three months ago. She's in really bad shape."
He hung his head. "I have to go get an emergency warrant. Call Altman. Okay? Let her know she was right." He went back to his office and closed the door. She fumbled for her keys and unlocked her desk, and then turned on her computer. Grabbing the headset, she flipped through files and prepared to call Teddy.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she quickly fished it out. "Altman."
"Dr. Altman, this is the Seattle police department. We are calling to prepare your emergency unit for an incoming case. I'm not able to give you a time estimate, but within the next two hours. You will need a private room, this case is classified," the voice greeted her ears.
"Okay thank you," Teddy almost hung up. Then a confused look crossed her face, "Wait, wait a minute. Hang on."
"Yes ma'am?"
"How and why are you contacting my personal phone?" she asked. "Why didn't you call the ER?"
"Ma'am. This is Charlotte Bronx. Investigator Klein," she stressed, "asked me to inform you about this classified case."
"Oh, okay," Teddy said. Then it dawned on her, "Oh, oh my god! Thank you. We'll get right on that."
"Goodbye."
Teddy stashed her phone and raced to the ER. "Owen! Owen!" She called as she ran. She turned the corner and ran into him. "Owen!"
"What?" he asked, disentangling himself.
"Owen, they found Callie."
Charlotte watched as seven police and state trooper cars pulled out of the precinct lot, sirens blaring and lights flashing.
Klein was furious with himself. He clutched the warrant in his hand in a death grip. If Charlotte was telling the truth, he was going to jail. He would kill Courtain with his bare hands. They had been on the hunt for this girl for months. Countless funds had been expended on her behalf. He had turned away Altman's suspicions for a farce because he believed that she was too connected to the case and had been seeing things. If Charlotte's description was right, he would blow Courtain's head off. How could a man be that savage?
They pulled up into the driveway, the lead car pulling into the lawn. The other cars blocked off the road on either side. Two officers immediately began spreading caution and crime scene tape around the premises while Klein and five other officers charged the door. He kicked it down and they spilled into the pristine living room, guns drawn. "Everybody freeze!"
Don and John both ran, Klein nodded and three officers chased them up the stairs. He heard the pop of a gun being shot and smiled in spite of himself. They wouldn't get away. Luke pulled Callie up and grabbed her around the neck, holding her in front of him. A human shield. He edged to the coffee table and pulled out his own gun, holding it first out at Klein and then to Callie's head. "Don't come any closer Klein, or I'll kill her."
"You son of a bitch," Klein snarled. "How could you do this to her?" He had to admit, Callie was containing herself very well. She clutched at Luke's arm around her neck but did not struggle with him.
"I mean it Klein, not another step."
"How about me?" an officer from behind him said, and Luke whirled around, taking Callie with him.
Mistake. Klein moved fast and got in behind Luke. He cocked his gun and held it to Luke's head. "Drop the gun Courtain." It was tense as he waited for Courtain to drop the gun. Callie squeaked in fear as his grip around her neck tightened. Klein signaled for another guy to back him up, he had to get Callie. "I said drop the gun!"
Shaking, Luke dropped the gun onto the floor and the other officer snatched it up quickly, putting it in a bag and setting it on the table. Klein grabbed his arms and wrestled with him, pulling Callie away from him and throwing him into the arms of the trooper who had distracted him. Callie fell into Klein's arms and he quickly pulled her to him. "Luke Courtain, you sick son of a bitch, you are under arrest."
As Luke was hauled out of the house, Klein sat Callie down and gave her a blanket to wrap around herself. She cried out in pain when he draped it on her, but quickly recoiled, looking at him in expectant fear. "You're safe, it's okay. It's over." He said. "What hurts?"
She turned and displayed her back to him. It was still raw, crisscrossed with lacerations and scars, bruised and tortured.
"Get a med kit, someone!" he called out. He looked her over more carefully. There was a lot of bruising around her ribs and sides. Her thighs and the backs of her calves had scars from healed cuts. Her hair was a mess. Her face was cut and bruised; her eyes were black, hollow, sunken in, and lifeless. But what disturbed him most of all was the nasty burn on her hip. "What is that from?"
She moved her hand to cover it, displaying her bruised arms to him. "Nothing."
"Did they? Did they brand you?" he asked, sickened. She nodded, yes. Someone handed him a med kit and he generous and gently rubbed salve into her back before bandaging it the best he could. And then he saw the collar. "What the hell?"
His fingers pulled and pried, but he could not get the lock to give. He unclipped the leash that was still attached to it. "They'll get it off at the hospital. I'm sorry, but I don't have the necessary instruments. We have to go out to the car okay? You have to keep the sheet around you; there are news people out there. We'll protect you."
"Someone make sure the black outs are on the windows," he called out directions. "Little, come here and be my second body guard for her. I don't want them getting anything from this."
She pulled her luggage to a chair to wait the hour for her next flight. She was almost home. She checked her phone again. Nothing. She sent a text, informing Teddy that she had arrived in Chicago safely. Then she closed her eyes and listened to the bustle of the airport. She must have dozed off because everything got silent and she opened her eyes, afraid that she had missed her flight. She checked her phone for the time and sighed in relief to see that it had only been half an hour. Then she looked around. People were stopped everywhere, staring at television screens. She located the nearest one and heard what was coming from the speakers.
"In breaking news, corruption in the Seattle police department. Calliope Torres, missing for almost three months now, has been located in the house of one of the operatives on the case."
Arizona's jaw dropped as the cameras turned to the high end house. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She didn't believe it. The driveway and yard were covered in police cars and crime scene tape. She heard a distant "There, there!" and then her heart stopped beating. The cameras focused on the front door and a figure was herded out between two police officers. They were shielding her from media and public view. But she would know that hair anywhere. It was her Calliope. They helped her into a car with black outs on the windows. Another cop slid in beside her. The cameras shot back to the door as two gruff men were being hauled out and packed into separate cars.
They swung around again, Klein approaching the media. "Please, we understand the significance, but this is a classified case."
"Do you have a statement?" the reporters ignored him.
"Not at this time."
It was like she had been shot. She was crying without knowing it. She was shaking. Her phone rang. "Hello?" She was expecting Teddy.
"Arizona?" her father asked. "Arizona, do you know?"
"They found her."