Body and Soul by InSilva
Disclaimer: don't own any Ocean characters. Just borrowing.
"So…"
"So."
"So, here we are."
"Uh huh."
"Me in evening dress and you, naked."
"That's right. In fact, you'd better get naked too."
?
A shrug. "You always get arrested when you're wearing black tie."
"Ah, true, true." *undresses* "So, what's this fic about? Am I in it?"
"Nope. S'me. You don't turn up till…2015?"
"Huh."
"What are you doing?"
"Getting dressed again. That's ages away."
"But-"
Knock on door. "Open up! Police!"
A sigh. "Too late."
Chapter Twenty-four: A Simple Plan Part Five
Day Thirteen
Annie looked like she didn't have any tears left to cry. She was curled up on the couch, her arms wrapped round her knees, her eyes staring dully straight ahead of her.
"Here," Saul said gently, offering her a glass of brandy. "It'll do you good."
She took a sip and pulled a face.
"Tastes awful," she shuddered, pushing it back into Saul's hands.
Saul put the brandy down on the coffee table, then sat down next to her and pulled her to him, his lips brushing her forehead.
"The thing is," Annie began, her voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my mother used to say. "You don't miss what you don't have"."
She trembled. "But when you do have something, Saul, when you have something you never dared hope for and it's so much better than you ever dreamed it would be…when you didn't even realise it was everything you always wanted and it's so amazing, and…and…"
A sob fell out of her and Saul's arms tightened.
"And it's ripped away from you and you never had the chance to make the most of things…"
Her face contorted with silent howling.
"Oh, Annie…" Tears rolled down Saul's cheeks.
"I mean I know he wasn't ours to keep," she went on falteringly. "I didn't expect him to stay here forever. I thought he'd grow up and have this wonderful life and we'd hear from him every now and then and he'd come visit and I'd m-make him apple crumble…"
The noise she made was drawn out and keening. Saul held her and they sat wordlessly for a while. Eventually, Annie twisted round in his embrace, a hesitant question on her face.
"What, my love?"
"Do you think that man…do you think he was involved?"
"Peterson?"
Annie nodded. Saul paused, considering, imagining Peterson hounding Rusty down, leaving him nowhere to turn, nowhere to go… Had Peterson forced Rusty's car off the road? Had Rusty been terrorised and terrified, desperately gripping the steering wheel, fighting for control?
"Bobby'll tell me," Saul said decisively. Peterson would never know what hit him.
His face wrenched.
"What is it?" Annie asked.
"I should have been here. When Rusty called. When Peterson visited. I should have been here." Misery ate at him. "I'm never here when I should be, Annie."
Annie kissed him clumsily, fiercely, repeatedly, and every kiss told him that there was no blame to be laid at his door and no guilt to be had.
Bobby had phoned Molly to tell her he wouldn't be home and had then driven straight out to Rosie's Diner and Motel to get the full story. The car had been hauled away but forensics were all over the motel room itself, dusting for prints, taking photos, gathering evidence. A flash of the badge and Bobby had gained entry.
Now he was stood in the storage closet of the room at the motel. The room where Agent Thalia Howard had been tied up and held prisoner before she'd managed to escape.
Bobby stared up at the ceiling, plaster crumbling and then bent down and studied the ropes on the floor. Cut ropes. He looked back up at the ceiling and frowned. Something was missing from this picture.
Upstairs and Bobby looked at the rolled back carpet and the uprooted floorboards. He squinted downwards. Tiny little peepholes carefully made. Some kind of voyeurism? Was this a little sideline the motel owner had going? Somehow it seemed far too energetic for the man Bobby'd seen sat behind the reception desk. Maybe an extra service he offered his guests?
He frowned again. All his instincts were screaming at him and he tended to listen to his instincts.
Saul had no idea what time it was. Light creeping round the edges of the drapes suggested it was day at least.
Annie was curled up against him on the couch and he was holding her close, stroking her hair. Saul glanced down at Annie, exhaustion written across her face and oblivion wiping out the agony. When she woke up, the pain would begin all over again.
Bobby's words echoed through him.
"They recovered a body."
Rusty's face swam in front of his eyes. Young and good-looking and with that fiery spark of intelligence burning through him. His face had lost that wary look of mistrust and he was starting to look at the wonder and possibility in life, starting to fulfil that promise... So much that Rusty could do…so much…
Angrily, Saul dashed away a tear. Life was just so unfair.
A light little knock at the door broke into his thoughts and he frowned. Didn't sound like Bobby and that was the only person Saul wanted to see. If it was Millicent, then Saul didn't trust himself not to commit homicide on the doorstep. It came a second time, even less sure of itself, but Annie didn't stir. Saul didn't stir either. Whoever it was could come back. They weren't open to visitors.
Lucy stared at the closed door and hesitantly raised her hand to knock a third time then let her arm fall down at her side. Her grandparents were back home and house-sitting duties over, she was heading off to Denver. She'd wanted to say goodbye.
Saul's car was parked out front but all the drapes were closed. The house looked shut off and private and Lucy was reluctant to disturb them. Seemed like there was something going on if the last few days with Annie were anything to go by.
Annie had still been smiling and friendly but Lucy got the impression that Annie's mind had been anywhere but in the room with her. She thought back to the FBI visit the previous day. What was that all about? Not like that was an everyday occurrence. And the way Annie had run full pelt after Millicent… What Millicent had said…insinuated… There couldn't be any truth in that, surely.
"I think Robert has a little problem where the ladies are concerned…" That grating laugh. "After all, boys do have urges…" Those bright eyes, all things sincere. "You don't want to know the difficulty I've had with him. Right here in this house. You're better off staying away, Lucy. I'm saying this for your own protection."
And more of the same and Lucy had looked at her disbelievingly but then the FBI guy had been there about an agent gone missing – a female agent – and Annie had gone running out of the door and… When Annie had come back in the house, all out of breath and distressed, Lucy had tried her best to look after her. Annie hadn't let her. Lucy had found herself firmly on the other side of the door.
Something was going on. Something to do with Rusty. Lucy sighed and walked back down the garden path. If they wanted to tell her, they'd tell her. She didn't want to intrude. She'd scribble a note or some-
"Lucy."
She looked up and there was Marty, stood by her car.
"Hi," she said, surprise showing in her voice. "I thought you were working today."
"I wanted to say goodbye," he said awkwardly.
"Didn't we do that last night?"
Last night of meal and drinks and holding hands and talking and walking and a soft, gentle kiss that seemed to last forever.
Marty reached out and took her hand in his. "I wanted to say it all over again."
Hitching lifts was an art in its own right. Rusty avoided the cars – lone women weren't going to stop, lone men were too much of an unknown and families didn't have room - and concentrated on the trucks.
Late afternoon, he hit luck with a driver – an Irishman called Red O'Shaughnessey who liked him.
"I'll see you right, son."
Drivers knew Red. Rusty was passed on at the truck stops with the mere mention of Red's name. The drivers were glad of the company, happy to have someone to listen to them grousing about the state of the roads, the unreasonable expectations of their bosses, whatever was going on back home while they were out on the road…
Hot dogs, milkshakes and conversations that required only monosyllables on his side and the miles flew away.
Bobby was sat in a room with Peterson, Wark and Howard having the details of the Mendes arrest explained to him. It had been quite a coup. They'd scooped up not only Mendes but also a senior member of a gang that worked out of New York and who was wanted for questioning on a gamut of crimes including a couple of cop murders.
There were links to the Chicago office with Mendes and it had been a legitimate follow-up for Bobby to speak to the bureau chief here and to want a full wash-up session.
Peterson was claiming the case even though he had been nowhere near the dramatic arrests at the motel. Even though he had dismissed the information that had been presented to him. Even though he had gone off on a wild chase that Bobby thought had more than the faintest trace of personal persecution in it as far as Robert Charles Ryan was concerned.
"Mouthy little punk," Peterson said earnestly and peripherally, Bobby noted Howard's knuckles whitening.
"Mendes was using him as a distraction, mark my words," Peterson went on.
"Well, if he was, it certainly worked," Bobby said pleasantly.
"Ryan was nothing to do with this," Howard said.
It was the first time the girl had spoken. Her voice was calm and clear and Bobby liked the sound of it.
"That why you let him go?" Peterson made a scoffing noise. "Nothing to do with it…so you say."
"I do say," Howard said firmly.
But that didn't explain what Rusty's car was doing at the scene. That didn't explain how Rusty had ended up dead. And somehow, it seemed that neither Peterson nor Howard knew this. Neither of them thought that Rusty was involved at the endgame.
Peterson wasn't happy. He was very, very far from fucking happy. His boss had already given him a roasting over the case. Wark seemed to have been given all the credit. There was talk of a bravery award for Howard. Peterson didn't understand how he had ended up the bad guy in all this.
And then Agent Bobby Caldwell had swung in from Chicago and they'd been asked to extend every courtesy to him. Peterson wasn't feeling very courteous. He'd barely bothered with the reports – the motel and the rescue and some car chase with one of the perps dying. What did it all matter? They'd got Mendes, hadn't they?
Bobby looked across the table at Wark. Wark was more guarded but Bobby could see the lack of respect for Peterson and Wark's own guilt at not getting to Howard sooner.
"How did you find her?" Bobby asked curiously.
And that had led to the tape being played back.
"Agent Morrison. How can I help?"
"One of your agents is missing. Thalia Howard. I believe she is being held at Rosie's Motel and Diner."
Bobby looked at the other three as the earnest, concise, passionate words bounced around the room. Peterson wasn't that interested – probably because he hadn't been involved in this part of the investigation. Wark was listening to the tape with the same intense expression that he had possibly worn when he'd heard it the first time round. Howard…Howard seemed mesmerised.
"You think the FBI is going to start jumping every time someone phones them up?"
"Thalia-"
"If I had a dime for every conspiracy theory nut and fantasist who calls in-"
"Please! Thalia's in danger!"
Bobby's eyes were on Howard for her reaction. The faint flush was answer enough.
Thalia listened to Jersey's voice, pleading for someone to listen to him, for someone to help her. She pictured him, those blue eyes full of desperation… She hoped he was far away and safe. All she could do was keep his name out of the official paperwork so that Peterson didn't go after him again. She'd heard from Wark that he'd paid a home visit. Jersey's parents were probably still recovering.
She wasn't too sure about this guy from Chicago. Oh, he made a good impression professionally and there was something in his manner that made her want to trust him implicitly. Didn't mean she was necessarily going to.
"Figure it's the kid at the diner," Wark said as the tape came to an end. "Haven't got round to taking a full statement yet but it looks like they ordered room service. Figure the kid took it to them and overheard something he shouldn't have done. Maybe spotted Thalia's ID on the side."
Wark picked up the story of assembling a team and leading the charge to Rosie's but Bobby's mind was racing. He would wager an uninterrupted weekend with Molly and Linus that Howard knew the voice giving the information and he wondered why she hadn't volunteered the identity.
"…we brought in three men. The fourth got away but we gave chase and the suspect's car crashed. The suspect did not survive."
Rusty Ryan. Suspect. Had he been kidnapped too? Coerced into accompanying the men? Had he tried to get away?
"Agent Caldwell?" It was Wark. "Do you have everything you need?"
Bobby saw the exhaustion seeping through the younger man's face. Wark probably hadn't stopped since Howard had gone missing. Howard herself was probably running on fumes. Peterson, he didn't much care about.
"I think so, thank you."
The three of them stood up to leave.
"Agent Howard?" Bobby called her back as she followed the other two out of the room.
She smiled brightly at him. "Something else, Agent Caldwell?"
"Please. Have a seat."
Howard hesitated and then sat down again, warily. Bobby sat next to her.
"You've been through quite a bit," he said gently. "How are you holding up?"
Howard relaxed. "I'm OK, sir."
She shrugged away the terror and the pain as if it were an everyday experience and Bobby liked her even more.
"Who do you think that was making that call?" Bobby asked.
The wariness was back again. "Like Wark said. Probably the kid at the diner."
Bobby smiled and left it for the moment. "I had a look round where you were being held. That was some escape."
The wariness increased. "I got lucky."
Bobby said nothing. Silence was often a sound tactic. Howard's face grew more defensive.
"I got free. Just before Wark showed up."
"I read your account," Bobby told her. "It's a little light on details."
"It's a bit blurry on details," Howard retorted. "A blow to the head will do that. Sir."
She wasn't giving anything or anyone up and Bobby fixed her with his keenest, most searching gaze. Her mouth set tightly and she held his stare defiantly. Bobby made his mind up. He reached into the pocket and pulled out the picture of Rusty that Saul had given him and laid it down in front of Howard.
"This is Robert Charles Ryan. Known as Rusty to his friends and family."
Howard reached out as if to run a finger over the photo and then stopped as if thinking better of it.
"Now, I don't know how Rusty got mixed up in this but I seriously doubt it's Peterson's version of events."
Howard's mouth gave a nervous twitch. Bobby leaned closer, closing the distance, building the air of confessional between them.
"Agent Howard…Thalia...Rusty went missing straight after Thanksgiving. And the people Rusty lives with are friends of mine. They're frantic. I said I would try to help find him. Now, if you know anything about how he ended up dead-"
"Dead?" The shock was genuine and Bobby felt hope leap inside him.
"His car," he explained. "The chase."
There was a pause and she looked at him as if making her mind up about him. Then she said, "Jersey- Rusty - wasn't in the car."
Saul was sitting at the kitchen table watching Annie go through the motions of making breakfast. It was probably past breakfast time. It was probably past lunchtime.
"Thanks," he said as she put the cups of coffee and the toast on the table and then sat down beside him.
"You should eat," Annie murmured.
To please her, he picked up a slice of toast and bit into it, chewing mechanically and was aware of her sipping the hot coffee in an almost equally perfunctory manner.
Saul could only manage a single bite. He put the toast back down on the plate.
"Do you think I was wrong, Annie?" he whispered. "To bring him here, I mean. Because if he was back with…" He broke off with a shudder and then forced himself to go on. "If he was back there, then he'd still be alive."
"Not in any way that counts!" Annie exclaimed. "You said yourself, Saul, it wasn't any sort of life!"
He felt her hand creep into his.
"You wouldn't be the man I know you are if you'd walked away from him, Saul."
Saul leaned across and kissed her on the forehead. "You're not sorry?"
Annie gave him a look of complete and utter love and he felt for the umpteenth time how lucky he was to have found her.
The phone rang, breaking the moment, and they looked at each other and then hurried to the hall.
"Saul, it's Bobby." Bobby's voice was overflowing with relief. "Good news."
And the world began again.
Day Fifteen
"Hey, kid." A dig in the ribs shook Rusty out of the light doze. "Here you go."
Rusty blinked blearily in the early morning light at the nine letters on the hillside.
"Welcome to the dream factory," the driver said. "I'll drop you off in town. Hope you find what you're looking for, kid."
By the time he reached the empty diner, he was ready for breakfast. Funny, but he hadn't noticed hunger when he'd been helping Thalia and yet that must have been the first time he hadn't eaten since… Since before he'd met Saul.
Saul… Annie… Rusty ran a hand over his mouth. It still hurt too much to think about them. He pushed open the door to the diner, blinking fiercely and sank into a seat by the window, grabbing a menu.
"See anything you fancy?"
It was delivered straight. Rusty looked up at a young heart-shaped face, strawberry blonde hair, startling blue eyes, a perfect upturned nose and a namebadge that declared her to be "Jody". She looked like a movie star.
"Strawberry-milkshake-and-waffles, please," he said rapidly.
"Sure thing, hon."
A kilowatt smile. A figure to die for. Rusty stared after her and then realised and snapped his attention back round and away.
"You new in town?"
Rusty looked up at the waiter who'd spoken. "Marco". Dark-haired, square-jawed, green-eyed and with a blinding smile.
"Yeah…" Rusty said, adding stupidly, "Are you…are you in the movies?"
He regretted the words almost as soon as they'd left his mouth as Marco let out a high-pitched snort – possibly a whinny.
"Jody! Jody! He thinks I'm a movie star!"
Jody returned with Rusty's order and a big smile. "Well, that's a nice thing to say. You think I'm in the movies too?"
"You're pretty enough," Rusty said honestly.
"Well, so are you," Jody told him and glanced fondly at Marco. "So are we all."
"Ain't that the truth," Marco sighed heavily, leaning up against the back of the booth. "Fifty new faces a day falling into town."
"Everyone wanting to make it big," Jody agreed. "Everyone wanting to break into the movies. Everyone wanting their name up in lights."
Well, Rusty didn't want to. He'd spent most of his life trying to stay invisible, one way or another. But he looked at Marco and Jody and the dream was alive in their eyes.
"How long have you guys…?" he tailed off, suddenly aware that it might be an awkward question.
"Eight months," Jody replied.
"Just over a year," Marco added.
Neither of them seemed fazed by the delay in stardom.
"We're all over town," Jody gave a shrug and a smile. "Waiting tables and pumping gas."
Jody and Marco had been generous with their time, their stories and their advice. They were both of them waiting for their big break in the shape of talent scouts.
"You never know who's going to walk through the door and see you."
They both had agents. They both had a portfolio of portraits. They had both had a string of auditions. Jody had even had a couple of call backs.
"Just a matter of time, Rusty. Just a matter of time."
In the meantime, they hung on to the dream as tightly as they could, any way that they could. Rusty liked them.
"You want somewhere cheap and clean to stay, you could try Mama Liz's on Dexter Street," Jody suggested. "S'where I stayed when I first came."
Dexter Street wasn't far away and Mama Liz's boarding house had vacancies.
"Hundred and fifty dollars a week and I throw in breakfast," she announced, throwing open the door to the tiny room. "No drink, no drugs, no funny business. Front door closes at midnight. You get back here after that, you can spend the night on the sidewalk wishing you owned a watch that worked."
Seemed a good deal. Rusty handed over the cash and then dropped his holdall on the bed. Mama Liz left him to it and he crossed to the window and pulled back the thin drapes. Opposite was a large billboard with a peeling, faded poster.
"Welcome to Hollywood".
