Diana felt guilty digging into the thirty year old mystery, but she was driven to solve it. She wasn't sure why, maybe she wanted to give Neal some closure on the incident. He hadn't remembered until they opened this old wound… and mercy knew he had enough wounds right now… if she could close an emotional one for him… that was assuming of course that he survived. The last she heard he was still holding his own and the doctor was encouraged that he was still hanging on but, that didn't mean he was out of danger. She didn't dare call her boss and ask, knowing that if he wasn't sitting in the young man's room, he needed to be resting. She could have stopped by but after the first night when she sat by his bed and said her goodbyes with a heavier heart than she ever expected to feel for a dying con artist she hadn't been able to make herself go back. Peter would be back at work tomorrow, hopefully he would have good news.
The team was working in shifts around the clock to find the three men directly involved and connect the situation directly to Dennison. Her shift ended four hours ago and she knew she should be sleeping but Leo Franklin had finally returned her call just before she left the office, the man answered her questions concisely. Yes, her remembered writing that article. Yes, he felt justified for calling the officer out the way he did… even though the man was killed by another officer just a little over a month later. Who did he get the information from… he hesitated to reveal his source but if someone was actually investigating the old case then… the officer's name was given to him by a highly reputable private investigator, Mr. Chris Thompson, though he had no idea why Thompson was looking into the case.
As soon as she reached her apartment she looked up Thompson. He was retired, living in a beach house in San Diego but there was a number so she put in the call… it was only eight pm on the west coast after all. The man answered on the third ring.
"Mr. Thompson… this is agent Berrigan of the FBI. I was hoping you could help me out with a case… I understand you investigated some time ago."
"Of course, young lady always happy to help." His voice was smooth… a man used to getting what he wanted, she reflected. "What cold case do they have you digging into?" she could hear his grin through the phone line.
"The Stork Kidnappings." The line went quiet for a long moment. She heard the man draw a slow ragged breath.
"It's been a long time since I looked into that one." He finally said. "What do you want to know… maybe I can still help? But no promises for my memory."
"Ok." She pushed aside the nagging feeling that this was none of her business… "How did you get involved Mr. Thompson? Who hired you?" the man sighed
"There was an officer… his son was one of the babies taken…"
"James Bennett?"
"Yes that was the name…his son was identified as one of the bodies recovered… but he couldn't accept that… wouldn't accept it. His wife on the other hand …"
"What about his wife?"
"It was strange, her reaction. It was like she just rewrote their family… she never grieved, just acted like Nick was never born."
"I see…"
"I don't know how he came up with the money but Bennett kept me working on it for over a year."
"Did you turn up anything?"
"Yeah I did. The prevailing opinion was that the kidnapper was a serial killer but… I found an account he had successfully covered up…there were sizable deposits about two weeks after each child went missing."
"You think someone was paying him to murder babies?" her stomach twisted
"Maybe not to kill them… maybe just to take them." The knowing tone in his voice carried clearly through the line. "I think the babies who died were just… collateral damage, if you will,"
"You passed this information on to the police investigating?"
"I tried… other than Bennett, they weren't overly interested."
"You mean, they refused to follow a lead on missing kids?" she couldn't believe even dirty cops would be that cold.
"They refused to even listen long enough to hear I found a lead."
"D***."
"My thoughts exactly Agent… Berrigan, was it?"
"So you think some of those children might still be out there? Alive?"
"I do actually." He sighed "At least I think it's possible… though finding them now…" she could see the man shrug helplessly in her mind.
"Did you find anything to indicate that the ME might have been mistaken about Nicholas Bennett's identity?"
"I'm sorry… I never did. Bennett kept insisting there had to be something but… there was nothing. That I could find anyway."
"Thank you Mr. Thompson." Diana sighed
"Anytime. You might want to know … that man… he made a deposit into an officer's account… two days after he was arrested… the same officer who arrested him."
"That is interesting…pay off for botching the arrest maybe?"
"Looked that way to me."
"And you told Bennett this?"
"I did. I never expected him to kill the man though… shame about that" regret echoed through the phone.
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When the lead on Rodney Franks finally came in the office seemed to give a collective sigh of relief, Jones thought. It was good to have Peter back in his office today but…the tension rolling off the man only added to the stress everyone had felt for the past week and a half since their consultant went missing. The first question on every lip when their boss walked in this morning was "How's Neal?"
The senior agent had looked around at their concerned looks and announced that the young man was awake and was doing as well as could be expected. Everyone seemed to take a deep breath for the first time since the dock…then the office erupted into a brief cheer. Peter smiled at his team but there was something in his eyes, a stiffness to that smile that seemed …off. Jones and Diana exchanged a look, wondering if they were the only ones who noticed that Peter's expression belied his positive words. Clearly something was still very wrong. Jones spent the morning trying not to think about the damage that could have been done by seven minutes and twenty seven seconds…
Then the lead came in… the surveillance team outside one of Dennison's smaller office buildings recognized Franks. Reporting in, they had been instructed to follow him… he led them back to an apartment complex… most likely his own.
Suiting up Jones tried to squelch the desire but he knew given the chance he wanted a piece of this guy. He had only seen Neal that first night, but the memory was enough to make him shutter… he had been unable to make himself go back after that. The brutality of the damage was overwhelming, and the urge to return the favor for his friend rose in him despite his silent reminders that justice was better than revenge.
Peter pounded the door harshly calling out "FBI OPEN UP!" there was no response except a soft scrabbling sound. The door crashed open under the battering ram and nine agents rushed into the room.
Rodney Franks wore a stunned expression, his hands still trying to open the window, clearly he was not the brains of the operation. It never felt so good to slap cuffs on anyone, Jones thought, but a small part off him wished the man had put up a little fight…
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"He might have surrendered peacefully," Peter thought furiously, "but that is all he is going to give us." Franks sat chained to the table, he looked angry protesting that they couldn't hold him… that they had nothing on him. He claimed he knew nothing about the kidnapping and brutal attack. After four hours of watching him playing irritated, innocent citizen Peter had enough. He stepped into the room. He quietly sat down and lay Neal's cracked phone on the table between them.
"Who are you?' the man grinned
"Peter Burke."
"That supposed to mean something to me?" the man sneered mockingly.
"Mr. Franks you can drop the act…"his voice was soft but the steel underneath was razor sharp. "This phone…holds a video file… of you, David Hamelin and Henry Ridgemont assaulting Olivia Dominguez and Neal Caffrey… it recorded your voice discussing the kidnapping of Mr. Caffrey and William Woodbridge." He hesitated, his smile widening like a crocodile about to attack. "And finally Mr. Franks we ran a single finger print from this phone… yours."
Franks knew he was beaten, Peter could see it in his eyes but still he only muttered indistinctly "I'm not telling you nothing…"
"That is you choice" the agent tried not to visibly grind his teeth "But I don't see Mr. Dennison sending you a big shot lawyer to bail you out, Mr. Franks… he's going to let you take the fall for this all alone."
"Of course he is … I'm nobody" the words hung in the air, Franks looked shocked that he let them escape and Peter smiled at him. It wasn't enough for an arrest just yet but they finally had confirmation of Dennison's involvement. Then Franks played his last card.
"He told us where it is, you know," Franks smiled now "the item we wanted … he told us he gave it to his boss, then he gave us his boss's name to save his own skin… you should warn the man we're coming for him next… we will get our item back. We know what he was… they should know he died crying and begging for his life." the words sent a chill down Peter's back. He gave the man a hard look as he rose and turning on his heal he strode out of the room.
"Boss." Diana said softly appearing at his elbow.
"You got that?"
"We did." she lay her hand on his tense arm "Boss he's lying."
"What?"
"About Neal giving them your name"
"Are you sure… They were killing him, anyone would have given in under that kind of treatment…" he couldn't help feeling just a little betrayed even as he justified "I don't blame him if he did… he held out for three days. No one could ask for more." And that was true… but it still stung.
"Franks is lying. If he knew your name… he would have made that conversation personal, and you know it. Franks is hoping you will lead them to his boss. Neal did not give them your name. He protected you… all of us." She was right… of course. He had introduced himself… Franks would have recognized his name if he knew it… he wasn't thinking straight.
"Excuse me." He said softly, swallowing hard
"Tell Caffrey we all send him best wishes…" she smiled "maybe I'll stop by later, now that he's awake."
The older agent nodded "he'd like that… but he's only awake for a few minutes at a time…they still have him pretty well drugged… his lungs took quite a beating, he was still on the vent this morning, though they were talking about taking him off." He closed his eyes… and didn't tell her the rest. He didn't tell her that while the doctors reassured him it was too soon to be sure, he had watched their friend shift and stir for two long days, but never once had he moved his legs.
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He closed his eyes… after another round of exams he was exhausted. He was grateful that Dr. Wilson had removed the breathing tube this morning, but he wished they didn't have to monitor him so closely without it. Breathing was painful but according to the nurse his oxygen levels were holding stable… so far. Her eyes warned what would happen if they didn't so Neal closed his eyes and focused on slow deep breaths to insure he took in plenty of air through the plastic mask that covered the lower half off his face.
Without the ventilator and the drugs they gave him to keep him from fighting the machine his mind felt clearer… clear enough to notice the way the nurse looked away when he asked why his legs wouldn't move, clear enough to remember more of what happened, and to wonder if Will was ok. Maybe the drugs hadn't been a bad thing after all, he reflected as the memory of a man pressing a gun to the toddler's head rose to his mind. He swallowed hard and tried to pull up a memory after that… something to tell him the boy was ok.
He startled slightly, realizing he was dozing. He fought to stay awake… he wanted to avoid the dreams that came with sleep, painful terrifying dreams assaulting him with images that might have been memories or twisted versions of them conjured up by his fertile imagination. He really hoped the image of the small boy lying dead at his feet wasn't real, or the dream of Peter telling the two men to let him die.
The tiny click of the door still made him tense… his body readying to endure another round of agony… he knew in the rational part of his mind it would be a nurse, with an apologetic smile and a thermometer, or maybe June with a concerned look and the book she had been reading to him… the urge to pretend to be sleeping so he didn't have to face another exam crossed his mind but he sighed and forced himself to open his eyes.
Fear spiked through his entire being. The memory swept through his mind in a sickening rush, this man standing on a dock extending a small thrashing body over the water… turning to mock him as Neal lay helpless at his feet. The young man swallowed hard, shrinking as far as he could into the bed. His mind swirled through his options… except there were no options. He couldn't run without moving his legs, he didn't have the strength to fight back, his hand reached for the nurse call but the man sprang forward and shoved it out of his reach.
Neal brought his hands up to grasp the wrists as the man pushed aside the oxygen mask, fighting back desperately knowing what was coming. His weak grip did little to impede the man's movements as he jerked the pillow from behind the young man's head and pressed it with tremendous strength over his face, his elbows resting heavily on the laboring chest. Neal struggled frantically, twisting his head from side to side, nails scratching his attacker's wrists, trying to push him away with all his waning strength. The man's chuckle drove him forward, but he couldn't draw a single breath. Realizing the futility of his efforts, he blindly felt for the call button again.
The world faded as he realized the simple truth… "I'm dying, I'm dying and there is nothing I can do." His hands fell limp from their efforts…the right, beside him on the bed, the left, lying loose across his stomach…far away he felt the limbs throbbing with fresh pain and something wet soaking though the gauze, distantly he heard something beeping loudly. Somewhere in his mind he heard a familiar voice "Davis stop… just stop, please… he's gone…" a shudder ran though his body, Neal wasn't sure if it was lack of oxygen or the words from his dream that caused it.
Suddenly the pressure was gone, the pillow sliding away to the floor. Neal watched vacantly as two men fought. The second man was slim and quick, his hair dark and his shirt untucked Neal noticed through his greying vision… he tried to focus on breathing but something was wrong… his lungs felt weighted, unable to draw in air.
His attacker fled through the window and the second man turned to follow… hesitated, glancing at the bed. With smooth steps he drew into the narrow range of vision that had not faded away and Neal felt his eyes widen despite his panic. The man's expression registered surprise and recognition too… he quickly lay the mask back over Neal's face, and turned to hit the emergency call on the wall. Then he stopped for a moment, his blue eyes a mix of confusion and worry, giving Neal's shoulder a squeeze he spoke quietly.
"Hang in there, help is coming." With that he turned and lunged out the window in pursuit of the attempted murderer. Neal heard voices sweep into the room and hands on his body, someone was calling his name and asking him to look at them but he couldn't see anymore. Just before the darkness that consumed his vision settled over his mind Neal thought… "He really did have my face…"