Agent Houndslow checked his map and cursed under his breath. It was just his luck he had been assigned the state of Idaho to search. The folder on the passenger seat had images of Vincent Keller and Catherine Chandler staring up at him, their eyes accusing, if he chose to be fanciful. Every town, city and fly speck on the map had to be checked. If there was any sort of settlement, it had to be watched, assessed and reported on. Anyone loosely matching the description of the fugitives was to be followed up and images taken where possible. Already he had several thumb drives full of footage and images of potential targets. Agent Houndslow had never seen so many black haired, six foot tall, broad shouldered suspects. It didn't help that Idaho was a former Indian territory, so that black hair was almost the default setting. Now he was approaching the north of the territory and a several small population centers, one of the larger being a fly spec with about a thousand souls, give or take, called Arco. He could see an impressive mountain range starting to rise above the horizon, the surrounding area stretching away made up of scrub and grass, all the same dull sage colour, the road stretching away black and unbroken ahead of him.
It was dark when he arrived in the main street of Arco, several store fronts lit up with colourful neons, one claiming the town was the first to be lit by atomic power, the arcane phrase making him smile. It was like being transported to a bad fifties movie. He expected to see a giant spider or rampant tarantula appear above the building, the image staying with him as he slowly cruised the main strip, then turned down one of the side street and slowly trawled the neighbourhood, such as it was. One turn brought him to an information center, a large sign displaying a map of the town. Pulling out a torch, he parked the car and got out. A quick survey showed him where he could start looking for any likely suspects. Protocol dictated that any fugitive was likely to be hiding somewhere out of the way, cheap and easily overlooked, so his first port of call in any town was the RV and trailer parks.
After booking in to the local motel. Agent Houndslow started his search. The manager of the motel was predictably unhelpful, so he drove instead to the first RV park. There were plenty of vehicles there, most of them obviously rentals for tourists. He ignored those after a cursory search and moved on to those parked at the back, or those looking less than pristine. He was challenged several times, but with each he gave them the same cover story, of a private detective looking for a runaway teen. Depending on the person asking, he'd vary the story, sometimes a bounty hunter looking for a mark, sometimes a police officer looking for a bail jumper, and so it went on. He had all the necessary credentials to represent himself as practically anyone other than the President of the United States, and that only because he was the wrong colour.
Drawing a dead end at the first RV park, he moved on to the next, this one tucked at the very back of the settlement down a dusty road. Here were more permanent residents, a more likely hunting ground for the people he was looking for. Finding no manager in the office, he prowled around the grounds, peering wherever possible into the trailers themselves, scoping out the occupants without them realising that anyone was snooping. At the end of one of the rows he tried to look in a window only to find himself pressed up against the side of the building with a harsh male voice demanding what he thought he was doing there. Turning around slowly he reached into his coat and withdrew his I.D.
"I'm a private eye looking for a runaway," he explained to the man holding a hunting rifle on him. "Let's just take it easy, I can explain."
"I'd like to hear that one. What's wrong with knocking on doors? You looked like you were peeking in windows like some pervert." The rifle was rock steady and Houndslow wasn't about to provoke him.
"If you'll put down the weapon, maybe you can help me find who I'm looking for."
Lights were coming on and people spilling out of their trailers to see what the ruckus was about. Houndslow cursed under his breath. Bloody hicks, they always have to know what's going on.
"What you got there, Bryan?" a woman called, others asking the man the same question.
"Say's he's a P.I looking for someone."
"I think you can put your gun down, Bryan, he's not going anywhere. Where you from?" the woman asked as the man, Bryan, lowered his gun.
"I'm looking for someone," he reached into his coat and slowly pulled out small photos of Vincent Keller and Catherine Chandler. "If you've seen them, there's a reward for information."
The offer of a reward often produced results, especially when people were down on their luck, Houndslow seeing the pictures passed around, but nobody taking the bait.
"Can't remember seeing anyone like this here. Have you tried the RV park on the other side of town?" the woman suggested, folding her arms across her chest, pocketing the photos without anyone noticing.
"Been there already. If anyone knows anything about these people, I'll be staying at the motel in the center of town. I'm there until tomorrow."
"How big is this rewards?" someone called out. Houndslow gave the questioner a small smile.
"That's for anyone who has information, so you want to know how much, tell me what I want to know."
No one spoke so he adjusted his coat and walked back to his car, content that he'd cast his lure. If there was anything to find out in this hicksville, he'd know about it before breakfast tomorrow.
Vincent melted back into the shadows, his eyes glowing a deep gold. He'd smelt the agent long before he'd appeared, and had been about to pounce when Bryan preempted him and bailed the guy up against the trailer. He'd heard everything, as well as the muttering from the small crowd when the word 'reward' was mentioned. Money was scarce for some, and a reward was like winning the lottery, although Vincent was pretty sure whoever spoke to the agent wouldn't see a penny. By tomorrow the news would be all over town, and any newcomers looked at with suspicion.
His and Catherine's normal had just evaporated.
Returning to their trailer he opened the door and prepared to tell Catherine what had happened, but she was on the floor, bent over and moaning.
"Catherine!" Crouching beside her he tried to lift her up. Catherine gripped his hand, her lips pressed close together in a thin line as pain swept over her again.
"It's too soon," she gasped, one arm around her distended belly in a protective gesture. "Vincent, it's too soon."
"Let me get you on the couch, tell me what's happening." Despite the panic wanting to break free, first and foremost he was a doctor, his beloved Catherine was in labour, and at least four weeks early unless their calculations were off.
Catherine's trousers were soaked, so he helped her peel them off before placing a towel to soak up the amniotic fluid still trickling out.
"We need to get you to the medical center..."Vincent started to say but Catherine wasn't listening, her moan ending in a wail as a strong contraction gripped her abdomen.
He could feel the skin and muscles contract under his hand, the contraction releasing its grip just long enough for Catherine to speak. "No time...you're going... to deliver...our baby...ngaaaah"
Another contraction swiftly followed on the first and Vincent forgot everything else but what Catherine needed from him now.
"I have to go get Karen, I'll be back in a minute." He didn't wait for her to reply but ran out the door, and flashed across to the former paramedic's trailer. His knock was answered instantly.
"Kel? What's the matter?"
"It's Cat...Rina...she's in labour and I don't think we have time for the hospital."
"I'll be right there." She'd hardly finished speaking and Vincent was gone into the shadows.
Catherine was as he'd left her, riding out the contractions, panting rapidly to lessen the pain.
"I'm back, love. Come on, try and walk, it'll help..." He put his arm about her and lifted her upright. Catherine keened as another strong contraction gripped her middle. Karen appeared in the doorway and bustled in, taking in the situation with a practised eye.
"Alright, Rina girl, I'm here and you have your man here too. Let's get you out of these things and into bed. This baby is going to be here soon."
Between them they had Catherine in a dry clothes and on the bed in no time at all. While Vincent held Catherine and helped with her breathing, Karen efficiently set about getting boiling water to sterilise her small collection of instruments to use if needed.
"Vincent," Catherine panted, "it's ripping me apart!" She screamed and Vincent felt his heart jerk in sudden fear for her life. Karen positioned herself between Catherine's legs, surgical gloves on her hands.
"You're almost there, I can see the baby is crowning, take a deep breath my girl and push."
Catherine threw her head back and screamed, the contraction forcing the baby out in a rush of fluid, Vincent feeling the bones in his hand crack from Catherine's grip.
Karen wiped the baby's face, eyes and nose, clamped off the cord and looked up briefly for Vincent's permission to cut it. He nodded, his eyes fixed on the face of his child. As yet the baby hadn't cried, but Karen expertly wrapped it in a square of cloth and patted it firmly on it's back. At once the bedroom was filled with the cries of the newborn, the girl child handed to Vincent who cradled the tiny miracle for a few moments before handing her to Catherine.
"You're amazing," Vincent told her, kissing her sweat soaked forehead and smoothing her hair away from her face.
Karen dealt with the afterbirth, then returned to check for any tears. "That was one eager baby. Never seen one shoot out so fast. Usually the first takes hours, sometimes days before emerging."
"Guess she was impatient," Vincent whispered, Catherine tearing her eyes away from their fascination with the bundle in her arms to gaze up at Vincent, tears spilling over her lashes.
"Isn't she beautiful?"
Vincent grinned down at her. "The most beautiful baby ever."
A loud snort of wry amusement from the end of the bed went unremarked. "You were lucky, there's no tearing, but you'll be sore so don't expect to be running around for a few days. Rest and sleep and feed your baby, that's all you have to do."
Catherine looked a Karen with brimming eyes. "Thank you, I don't know what we would have done without you."
Karen smiled at the new mother and packed up her kit. "Nice to know my skills aren't that rusty yet. This makes number fifty six on my tally of babies born before making it to the hospital. I'd recommend you go along when you're ready for a check up, but plenty of rest and good food will see you right. Remember, what you eat, she eats, so no alcohol, keep away from strong tasting foods, and drink plenty of water. You'll need to change that pad regularly for the next twenty four hours or so, but I'll pop around tomorrow and see how you're going. Goodnight, sleep well."
The new parents hardly noticed, Vincent already besotted with his baby girl, his large fingers delighting in having tiny digits curl around them. Catherine was talking nonsense in soft tones, fighting to keep her eyes open as the short and violent birth took its toll.
Vincent took the tiny bundle from her arms when she lost the battle and nodded off to sleep. The baby fussed a little then settled, its tiny wrinkled face working as it opened and shut its mouth, eyes still screwed shut. Carrying his daughter into the kitchen, Vincent rocked and murmured to his child until it too drifted into sleep. Pulling back the wrap, he exposed a thatch of dark hair covering the baby's head, the strands so fine he hardly dared touch it.
"Just as beautiful as your mother," he whispered, before switching off the light, locking the door and walking back into the bedroom. Carefully he discarded his boots and lay down next to Catherine, the baby cradled in his arms and against his heart.
For the next hour or so he lay there, the baby snug and safe in his arms, his wonderful Catherine sleeping peacefully at his side. Tomorrow would be soon enough to break the news about the Muirfield agent who'd turned up at the trailer park. If anyone did try to get the reward and mentioned Catherine and himself, the agent would still need to come back and see for himself. If he did, Vincent would deal with him. There was a lot of back country around them where a body could be lost and never found.