"No answer."
Chase sighs, rather unnecessarily as House stands right behind him with his brow furrowed and his hands clasped over the head of his cane; a trail of footprints and narrow divots leading from the car to the warehouse.
"Maybe there's another door."
House suggests, finally accepting that their incessant knocking heralds no response.
She'd let us know. She'd knock back. She'd scream.
He thins his lips; troubled by the thought. He has heard Cameron shout for help while on the ward, as he has the rest of his colleagues, but as a rule, she is generally quite soft-spoken. Not timid, but certainly not one for dramatics, however cruelly he might tease her on the contrary.
She'd let us know.
He repeats resolutely to himself, pushing aside all further thought of the blonde in distress and opting instead to picture her sat bundled in her coat, feeling wonderfully foolish for getting herself locked inside an empty building in an attempt to prove a point.
Hell, she's probably gathered some trash and made herself a little fire. They teach that sort of thing at girl scouts when cookies are out of season, right? I'm sure she has a cute little badge for just such a pointless fete of false-survival.
He attempts a smirk, but it doesn't come.
Much as it surprises him, it turns out that even in such a mocking light, the thought of Cameron spending the night shivering next to foul-smelling flames doesn't fill him with any sense of glee; superior or otherwise.
That's because it's all just a show. For Wilson's benefit, for your team's, but most importantly, for yours. Nothing about this is the least bit amusing. Not that she's locked herself in, and not that she chose to go hunting for answers on her own. Calling her an idiot is just a poor way of deflecting from your culpability in this mess.
"I don't see another door. Let's check the next building."
Chase puffs as he blows hot air into his hands and rubs them together vigorously in an attempt to dethaw his fingers. He had been hopeful that they'd hit the jackpot as the snow leading up to the old factory door had seemed trampled and pushed aside beneath the fresh fall, but he works under a similar presumption as his one-time boss: Cameron would let them know if she was inside.
Be careful...
Be careful her text had said, and what was with that? What-
"-Hey!"
A holler distracts him from his thoughts, and he turns around expecting to see Foreman, but instead, a man with a wool cap pulled low over his head comes shuffling through the snow towards them.
"What are you doing?"
The newcomer demands, eyeing House and Chase with a suspicious scowl than only deepens when Foreman does arrive- crawling along the road and still managing to skid in the snow as he pulls up alongside the curve- to greet them beneath the thick folds of his scarf.
"Looking for someone."
House replies, catching the way Foreman bristles at the stranger's beady assessment, but too cold to stretch his lips into a grin.
"Is that right?"
The man asks, glancing at the door to the warehouse before once more analyzing the curious crowd gathered in the snow. Shaking his head, he beckons that the others should follow him and leads them down the path away from the old building.
"Yes, sir, a colleague. She was out here yesterday trying to find some information on a case, and we haven't heard from her."
Chase explains, shrugging when House throws him a measured look.
What? Are we supposed to act coy? What good would it do?
"A case, huh? You cops?"
The man asks, his tone curiously jovial; almost forcibly so.
"No. Doctors."
"Doctors?"
Open confusion now, which the others understand, but don't have the time for.
"Doctors."
Foreman replies affirmatively, before pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through the pictures with some difficulty due to his gloves. Finally successful, he holds it out to show the man a picture of Cameron smiling behind a generous dish of ice cream at Darnelli's.
"Have you seen her? She sent a text about that warehouse there. The garden supplies and pesticides place. Or are there more like that?"
"No... That's the only one around here," the man frowns, and he appears strangely uncomfortable. "What did she say about it?"
"Well... We're worried she might have gotten herself stuck inside."
"Inside...?"
"She was looking for information on what kind of chemicals might have been used in the products they used to make. We've had a couple of cases we think link to the area, and she went out looking for clues."
"What kind of cases?"
"We can't discuss that, sir."
Chase apologises, but House frowns as he finds this to be a rather strange question in light of the information they have just provided; the lack of further enquiries about the woman they've just said is missing quite peculiar.
"Girls," he speaks up. "Girls that have been dropped off like animals outside the hospital. Abused. Likely poisoned-"
"-House!"
Foreman hisses.
"We think they've been picked up and possibly kept in this area... We're almost certain."
"Have you told the police?"
Their new companion asks, and this time Foreman exchanges a glance with House as he, too, finds this to be a curious response.
"We're not sure what there is to tell yet."
He confides, before steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"So, have you seen her? Have you seen anyone?"
"No... I ain't seen nobody. That warehouse has been locked up for best part of a year."
"But, sir-"
"-Mick. Call me Mick. But don't go 'butting' me, I keep the grounds around here, and if your little friend was sniffing around, I would have seen her. So please, I don't want any trouble, and I don't need a bunch of cops showing up and minding my business... Look," he implores, shuffling back up the path to the weather-beaten door and giving it a theatrical tug, before pointing at the lock. "Ain't nobody in there. I keep an eye on the place to keep the vags and kids out. I would have noticed a pretty girl like that, believe me."
Mick grins, raising a bristly brow when this earns him an all-round chilly reception.
"I don't get it," Chase sighs, turning around to continue down the block with the others following behind. "That should be the place."
"Maybe there's another way in. Maybe she found a window."
"He'd have seen her. You saw how quickly he came to check what we might be up to. Cameron wandering around on her own? He'd want to play knight, if not more."
Foreman wrinkles his nose, before stopping in his tracks as a deep frown crosses his brow.
"What?"
Chase asks, almost walking into the back of the neurologist as he has his attention trained on his feet.
"Cam's car is here."
Foreman points to the old Ford parked across the street, before turning to face the others and insisting
"That old man can tell us whatever he likes, but Cam's here. He must just not have seen her."
"... Or maybe he did."
House muses with a scowl, catching the look of discomfort Chase and Foreman share as he voices this notion and shaking his head. Turning heel, he heads back up the path towards the retreating form of their begrudging guide as he makes his way through the snow towards the adjacent tyre factory.
"Hey! Look, our friend is here. That's her car there. She's here."
He states firmly, while privately trying to recall if he has ever referred to the blonde as a friend before.
The fact that he's fairly certain he hasn't lends him an uncharacteristically guilty feeling, as he understands- now that she's told him it's too late- that such recognition was all Cameron had ever really wanted from him in exchange for putting up with him since leaving his employment.
"I don't know what to tell you," Mick turns around to snap, flustered now, with his cheeks ruddy beneath his cap, "there ain't been no blondie creepin' around here where she got no business!"
"Blondie?"
A cracked wheeze comes from above, and a slightly older man with his nose the shape and shade of a plumb comes limping down the steps of the factory with a pipe clutched in his hand.
"I saw a young blondie. Doctor she was."
The man informs his audience, receiving open looks of surprise from the newcomers and an uneasy frown from his colleague.
"Where is she? Where did she go?"
Chase demands impatiently, and the old man shrugs as he lights his pipe with a flick of his nail against a match he pulls from his pocket.
"Don't know. Told her to get on home, didn't I? What with this weather and her not wearing so much as a pair of snow boots. Thought you lot were s'posed to be smart?"
He looks up accusingly, and Chase opens his mouth to argue, but House gets there first.
"Yes, yes, we all agree she's an idiot, never mind that. Her car's still parked over there, and no one's seen or heard from her apart from a text she sent all of us last night saying she was stuck at the garden and pesticide factory over there and couldn't get out."
"Inside the factory?"
The man coughs through his smoke, and he looks over to the old building thoughtfully, before turning to his companion.
"You don't think the poor thing found a way in, do you?"
"It's locked up, Jerry. Locked up tighter than a virgin's panties."
"Still... We should check. Ain't nowhere else around here she would have gone for the night, and it's colder'n a witch's tit. You got keys?"
"... It's locked up, Jerry. She couldn't have gotten in there."
Mick repeats with a strange injection of ferocity, and Foreman frowns as he muses
"She could have broken in."
"Her?"
Jerry chuckles, and Chase shrugs as he beckons that the others should make their way back to the factory
"You'd be surprised."
He confides, and Jerry rubs at his scruff with a curious grin, and gestures for Mick to follow him and the others back to the front of the warehouse.
"It's locked."
Mick hisses, pointing to the bolt on the door which has seen better days and looks curiously dented, but does seem to be doing its job.
"You want to tell me how your little friend managed that from inside?"
He scoffs, rolling his eyes for good measure to keep the unease he feels from seeping through his façade.
There is no way that bitch is in there. No way. We would have seen, would have heard her... Would have-... Didn't Lutz say he heard something? Didn't-
"-We'll open her up, just to check."
Jerry speaks up, prodding him companionably in the arm to spur him into action.
"You have to wait out here. We don't have any legal cover for you to go in there when it's a closed-off site."
Mick warns the others woodenly, and he feels his pulse race and slick anger creep up the back of his throat when the greying cripple seemingly in charge of the others replies pleasantly
"Well, neither would Cameron have. We'll risk it."
"Sir... I insist."
Mick warns, holding up a meaty palm and glaring at the small group watching him expectantly, before turning around and opening the door with his breath held and his stomach clenched. He figures he could pull the gun from his back pocket and pop off two of the newcomers before they even know what's happening, but three's risky, and who's to say that none of them are packing. That, and he'd rather not shoot Jerry; the old coot can be a pain in the ass, but his leniency when it comes to doing his job has acted as a blessing more times than he can count.
And they're doctors. They're here in a group. If three go missing, that will bring a whole world of trouble in itself... Not to mention what's happened to the girl they're here looking for...
Pushing open the door with a wince as it whines on its hinges, he waits; not sure what will happen. As it is, he is met only by silence- a surprising turn of good fortune, unless their newest business transaction has hit her head worse than they'd thought- and he turns to Jerry and the others with a superior smirk.
"Satisfied?"
He demands, gesturing towards the gloomy shadows beyond the entrance.
"No one here, just as I said. No one clawing at the walls, unable to get out."
Which begs the question of where your little blondie has gotten to...
"Mick..."
Jerry frowns, wrinkling his nose at his friend's crude phrasing, before turning back to House.
"I'm sorry we couldn't be more help. I'm afraid I didn't stick around to see the girl off, what with the weather and my hip being what they are. She seemed agreeable enough when I told her she'd best get off home, if a little touchy."
"That's Cameron, alright."
Foreman sighs, squinting into the shadows of the warehouse before taking a step back in surprise when Mick yanks the door swiftly shut so that it bangs.
"She ain't here."
Comes the old man's repetitive growl, and House exchanges a look with Chase and Foreman before nodding his acceptance with a sigh.
"Clearly. Come on."
He orders, and his word goes obeyed as had once been commonplace, with the others following him towards their respective cars.
"What do we do now?"
Chase asks.
"...Wait for our friends Mick and Jerry to find something else to occupy themselves with."
House grunts as he unlocks his car, beckoning that Foreman should join them in the back seat.
"Huh?"
Chase frowns, taking it upon himself to crank up the heating as soon as House starts the engine.
"I don't like how that went. Who the hell asks if someone's satisfied in this situation?"
House gripes, and Foreman nods as he muses
"He didn't want us poking around, that much was obvious. The older guy, he seemed less perturbed, but that Mick was not happy to see us, and didn't want us anywhere near that warehouse."
"We should have just demanded that they lend us gear if they were so concerned."
Chase sighs, and House shakes his head as he meets the blond's gaze with his own sharp stare and reasons
"A lack of hardhats and boots are not what made us unwelcome back there. There's something in that building we're not supposed to see."
"Fuck... If Allie's gotten herself locked in, then-"
"-She hasn't," House corrects. "She might well not be able to get out of there, as she said, but she's not locked herself in by some clumsy accident. That door was locked from the outside. Not just latched, but locked."
"So, you do think she's in there?"
Foreman leans through the front seats to ask.
"I do... I'm just not sure whether our friend Mick knew she was..."
"Well... If he didn't, then he might do now."
Chase mutters uncomfortably, and House nods.
"He does, and he's itching to go check it out as soon as we leave, which is why I have no intention of doing so... I don't think he knew Cameron was in there. He'd have had a story ready; one that complimented his friend's who seems oblivious to whatever's going on here, or just plain stupid."
"Well... That's good, at least, right?"
Foreman frowns as he speaks through his scarf.
Glancing back and studying the way thick wool covers the neurologist's mouth and nose, House shakes his head and turns his attention back to the warehouse; gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles blanch white.
"Is it?... There's something in there we're not supposed to see, and given what it was that led to Cameron playing Nancy Drew around this shit hole in the first place, I'm thinking it's something bad... The girls we've been treating have been kept somewhere... This seems as good a place as any."
"All your girls have been beaten."
Chase mutters numbly, his throat clicking as he looks back at the warehouse apprehensively.
"Yes... But, that's not what's been killing them. There's something in that warehouse that's been doing that."
Foreman corrects hoarsely, before demanding from the resultant silence
"What the hell do we do?"