A SECRET CHORD
Chapter Thirty Six
Arizona, 1985
The house was so quiet.
Adam stood in the hallway and felt the silence close in around him. He had promised to be brave and, of course, he meant to keep his promise, but being alone in a strange house was not at all how he had imagined it to be. The longer he waited, the more reluctant he was to move or make a sound. He felt lonely and small, a misplaced thing. The house didn't want him; he didn't belong there. Not without the man who made it right.
Thomas, he whispered inside his head. And then, softly: Momma…
Where was she, anyway? Why had she left him? She must have known how bad it would be.
I don't care, he thought fiercely. If he saw her again, he would run to her and fling his arms around her... and she would hug him back, and they would go away together… with Thomas too, because she would like his kind new friend, he knew it… Adam closed his eyes and dreamed for a while, happy in his own world.
Outside, on the main road, a truck rattled past and broke the spell. Momma faded from his thoughts and left him all alone again.
"You're dumb," he told himself. The words dropped like pebbles from his lips. "You're so dumb," he repeated, louder this time. He balled his fingers into fists and jammed them on his hips. "It's just a stupid ol' house."
You got me, the house seemed to say, with a mournful sigh that he could almost hear.
"Want some noise?" he asked. "It'll make us feel better, I guess."
Moving at last from his lonely spot, he shuffled into the front room and collected Mr. Boo, who was sleeping on his tummy in the nest. The cat didn't seem too happy at being disturbed – or maybe he always looked like that. Adam didn't care. Here was someone else that he could talk to and now that his tongue was free, it ran away with him.
"Did you know?" he said. "Thomas has gone to the store. I wonder what he'll buy. I'm hopin' peanut butter, an' maybe hot dogs… I like hot dogs…" He gave a hopeful little grin. "When I'm a grown up man, okay, I'm gonna eat hot dogs all day long, and donuts, in New York City. You can come too, if you like, an' you're good, Mr. Boo."
The cat stared at him with its green button eyes.
"I get it; you're thinkin' maybe, maybe not. But we gotta make plans." He lowered his voice confidentially. "I'm gonna work hard. I don't care if they laugh at me. I'm gonna do something really important." He faltered. "I just don't know what it is yet. But no one's gonna stop me." Picking up the guide book from the floor where it lay, he cradled it against his chest, along with the old, worn out cat. "Maybe I can learn music, like Mister Thomas." His eyes lingered on the chess board. "Or, you know, play games an' do puzzles all day. Think there's a job that'll pay you for that?"
No, said the cat's eyes scornfully. Adam shrugged. "I bet there is," he said, with the stubborn confidence of youth. "I'll find it. And there'll be people there just like me; not angry and mean but kind, alright, and happy. Don't look at me like that," he added crossly, holding the cat out at arms' length. "That's how Daddy looks."
Daddy.
All of a sudden, a cold fist gripped his heart and Adam's dream changed colour, from brightest gold to shades of grey. Now he could see the truth of it, and the truth was hopeless. He was living in a fantasy.
You'll never make it, a sly voice whispered.
The guide book fell to the floor with a crash. Adam threw the cat across the room. Mr. Boo landed upside down on the piano keys, his long tail dangling over his face. His back legs stuck out helplessly.
"Oh," Adam gasped. "I'm sorry."
Reaching the piano, he picked up the cat that was his oldest friend and cuddled him, feeling desperately cruel. Through the worn fluff, he could feel the lump that was Mr. Boo's red sock heart. He pressed his fingers to it, like a doctor feeling for a beat.
"Do you love me?" he whispered.
Yes, said Mr. Boo. This time, there was no mistaking his expression.
"I love you too," Adam said, and a single tear ran down his cheek. He brushed it away. "Want to learn?" he asked the cat, placing Mr. Boo's paw on one of the ivory keys. Together, they pressed down carefully and a single note rang out. "That's C," Adam told him, in a fair imitation of Thomas. "Like, you know, 'c' for 'cat'. Want to try another one? Okay, this one's 'A' for 'Adam'…"
Push away the bad thoughts. Let the good ones out. Those were the words he sang to himself as Fate set her sights upon him and drew closer.
-x0x-
New York City, 2005
Darrow stepped out of the circle of light and vanished. Meanwhile, it took Adam several minutes to extricate himself from the bench. "Excuse me… please… can I just…?" he mumbled, as he tried to untangle his legs without hurting the children. In the end, it was Ruth who moved aside, and he thanked her. She watched him gravely as he lurched to his feet. He could feel her gaze upon him and he yearned to speak with her. Right now, however, his own freedom was at stake and he could not stop for a friendly chat. Throwing caution to the wind, he stumbled after the agent.
Big mistake.
Adam's sense of direction had always been good but his head was still pounding and that made it hard to concentrate. Then, of course, there was the darkness itself, which destroyed any sense of connection to this strange world, leaving him utterly disorientated. He knew the likelihood of finding his way out was slim to none. Only a miracle would save him. Overwhelmed by doubt, he lurched to a halt and stared at the random patches of light around him as though they had lost all meaning. Where had he come from? And where was he going? And was this a nightmare? He couldn't be certain of anything…
"Yes," he growled. "I can be certain of Mac."
Hope flared in his chest, vying with the whip-like panic that drove his heart. Adam reached into his pocket…
…and hissed in dismay.
Hardly daring to believe the awful truth, he searched his clothes thoroughly but, in the end, he could not deny it. His cell phone was gone.
"You took it!" Adam accused the invisible agent. "I don't believe it. You picked my pocket when I was asleep – you coward."
Such a shame that Darrow wasn't there to state his case or – here, Adam wandered into the hopeful realms of fantasy - to return his phone and confess that this whole charade had been a mistake. Scowling at the empty air, Adam drew himself up straight and made a decision.
No one was coming to rescue his sorry ass.
"It's all on me, then," he muttered.
"Yes," said a soft voice behind him, "it is."
Soft, but not pleasant. He thought it might be the dark-haired boy, but he couldn't be sure. Tread carefully, he warned himself. "What? Who's there?"
"We get found, it's all on you. This is our secret, not yours."
Adam began to turn but, as he did so, something else caught his attention; a subtle pressure in the small of his back. The darkness, and his own terror, played on his imagination. Was it a knife? A gun? Or some kind of crazy bluff? He felt a wild urge to laugh at the thought that he might be shaking in fear of something truly ridiculous, like a banana.
Then a sharp point pricked his skin, having slipped right through his clothing, and he knew. From that moment on, he was horribly calm.
"I didn't ask to come here," he said quietly – resisting the truth that nudged him and whispered: you did.
Warm breath tickled the back of his neck as the boy leaned in.
"Bet you were lookin', though."
"I was. To help you. I wanted to help you, okay?"
"Yeah – help us right into a foster home, an' a system that jus' treats us like a problem to be solved. Or worse – send us back where we came from." The boy's voice grew strong as he warmed to his subject. "I'm not gonna let that happen. Got it?"
"What do you mean?" So much for the Piper's sanctuary. He had stolen all these children away from the lives that they feared – but fear is tenacious. It clings to the host and never allows itself to be dismissed so easily.
No, Adam thought with a shiver. Fear fights back.
"I mean I'll stop you." The knife point slid into his flesh, barely breaking the skin, but that was all the warning Adam needed to make the lesson very clear. An involuntary cry burst out of him. Seconds later, the voice and the needle-sharp pressure were gone.
Alone and unseen in the dark, Adam wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged himself tightly. "Help," he whispered to the empty air, not really trusting that anyone would come for him; not now. He was seven years old again and he didn't know what to do. His plea was meaningless – no one was there to hear it, after all – but the word gave him comfort and so he repeated it. "Help me…"
-x0x-
The brand new home of the County Medical Examiner might not have moved very far geographically but, in Mac's humble opinion, it was worlds away from the old one. No more gothic crypt, no more grim tools hanging in dark closets. No more making do with outdated equipment. No more cot beds in the ante-room… Just like its sibling, the Crime Lab, this morgue was shiny and new. The same work went on here but, through simple relocation, it had lost its sinister edge and planted itself firmly in the realms of modern science.
Was that a good thing? Yes, he decided. Death was unsettling, no matter how – or where - you confronted it. An M.E.'s attitude should consist of respect for the victim and absolute dedication to every case. The same, he thought wryly, was true of a CSI. Futuristic décor and fancy gadgets ought not to be so important – and yet he couldn't escape the fact that this was better.
Clearly, Dr. Evan Zao thought so too. Facing them across the broken body of Richard Allan, he favoured them with a welcoming grin that would have been inappropriate, had his level gaze not tempered the effect with its gravity.
One step ahead of her boss, Stella reached the table first. "Not a pretty sight," she observed, with regret.
Zao nodded. "You said it. Autopsy's pending – he just arrived on my table – but I'd say it's more than likely he died on impact. Straight through the windshield and 'goodnight Vienna'."
Mac raised an eyebrow. Zao shrugged. "Beatles fan," was his cryptic explanation. "Sorry."
They leaned in to take a closer look at Allan's injuries, guided by Zao. As they did so, Mac felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the body on the table, Zao's words, or even his surroundings.
Someone had crept in behind them. A breath, like a sigh, was released.
Mac turned as Zao straightened. "Can I help you?" the M.E. asked politely with an air of puzzlement.
"Dr. Evan Zao – Agent Joseph Darrow," Stella said, by way of a soft introduction. This was not the time for loud voices or complicated explanations. "Are you alright?" she continued, focussing her attention on the bewildered agent. "This must be quite a shock for you."
"I don't know… how to feel," he admitted. Mac waved him forwards but he didn't move. Having made it through the door, he had finally reached the limit of his courage.
Stella left Mac's side and moved to comfort him. "It's over, Joseph," she said, as she took his arm in hers. "You don't have to see him… unless you want to."
"I need to," he admitted mournfully. "It's my fault…"
"I very much doubt that." Mac found that he had cast himself as the voice of reason. "Were you driving the car? Did you force him to come to the meeting?"
Darrow swallowed and took another step towards the table. With a display of compassion that made Mac warm to him, Zao folded his hands together and moved back silently. Take all the time you need, his action said. He stood like a guard of honour in the background as Darrow gazed upon his fallen nemesis with hollow eyes.
Bending down, the agent brought his lips so close to Allan's ear that they were almost touching it.
"What did you do with her?" he whispered.
Mac frowned. Had he heard correctly? Her, not them. Such a tiny detail, and yet…
Staring at the man, he felt an unexpected surge of alarm, like a jolt of electricity that knocked his heartbeat out of sync for one vital moment, changing everything. The world felt wrong, somehow. Had he made a mistake? Had his trust been won over by deception? The very thought sickened him.
"Don't worry - we'll find them," Stella reassured Darrow. Over his bowed head, she exchanged a glance with Mac that left the detective in no doubt of one thing, at least. She felt it too; the uncertainty. He could see it in her eyes.
Rising up, Darrow shook his head. There was a fatalistic slump to his shoulders. "I don't see how."
"We deal in answers here," Mac said firmly. "That is why you came to us - isn't it?"
Now it was Darrow who twitched in surprise. But Mac had chosen his words with care, and his face was impassive as he continued: "Dr. Zao, we'll leave you to your work. Agent Darrow – walk with me?"
-x0x-
A thin white beam cut through the darkness like a beacon of hope.
"There you are," said a voice. "You shouldn't go wandering off, you know, until you get your bearings."
Kind words, which snapped Adam out of his daze. "Oh – I know," he admitted. "Have you come to rescue me?" He searched for the right name. "Georgie?"
"That's me." Tilting the torch, she lit her own face from below. The effect was ghoulish, yet her smile was reassuring. She was pleased that Adam had remembered her.
He favoured her with a sheepish grin in return. "Hello again," he said. "I guess I should introduce myself properly this time, right? I'm Adam. Adam Ross."
"I thought your name was Thomas."
That made him start. "Okay, how did you know about that?"
For a moment, Georgie didn't answer. Her face fell back into shadow as she turned the beam away to light their path instead. "Joseph said he wants to be the one who tells you. I'm meant to find you a bed, that's all. I'm sorry…"
Clearly, Agent Darrow's hasty departure had left this girl in an awkward position as well. "Are you in charge, then?" Adam asked her gently, keen to find an ally since he already seemed to have at least one enemy. Darrow's status still confused him.
"I'm the oldest," Georgie replied. "That means I have responsibilities." Following close at her heels, he felt rather than saw her shrug. "We all do, really."
"You're… a family." Adam chose the word deliberately.
"We are." There was warmth in her simple affirmation, and a strong sense of pride. "That's what Joseph calls us too. You can choose your family, you know," she added stubbornly.
"I know." If I was someone else, he thought, like Mac or Stella, I could give a speech right now and win her over. Make her set me free… But he was just Adam Ross, and the problem was, he understood. How could you argue with someone who saw things the same way? Georgie was a brave girl. She had taken her life into her own hands and tried to make it better.
The one he should be talking to was Darrow.
But Darrow had gone.
Besides, Adam's brain was muddled beyond all reason right now and bed seemed like a heavenly option. Time enough to straighten things out in the morning.
He tried not to think about the fact that he might fail…
-x0x-
A/N: KBMac (Guest) - thanks for reviewing, and don't worry! I always finish my stories ;)
Thank you to all those who have reviewed this story recently. I'd also like to thank those people who have been reading through my other ones, and stopping to favourite them or leave a comment - it means a great deal to know that you have enjoyed them.
A quick note regarding Sid - I love Sid Hammerback and I usually include him in my stories as he is great fun to write about, but when I started this fic I set myself a challenge to involve some of those characters from early season 2 who never (or almost never) make it into fanfiction. Evan Zao was top of my list.