Chapter Two
Though large, the warehouse floor was empty of everything except the railroad cars and an area tucked in a corner that looked like glass-enclosed office space. It was dusky, nearly impossible to see, by the time they opened the office door, but both cried out with delight when the desk lamp snapped on flooding the room with the brightest light either of them had seen in a while. An interior door opened into an equally well-lit bathroom, comprising a small sink and mirror, trash basket, and toilet, that, when tested, flushed perfectly. The water from the sink ran clear and cold and was agonizingly delicious.
While Amanda used the bathroom, Lee surveyed the office area. It consisted of a substantial, neatly organized desk, empty trash basket, a set of wall-mounted cabinets, and one enormous, comfy office chair which he plopped into, and was leaning from with his hands in one of the desk drawers when Amanda reemerged. "I didn't realize how dry my mouth was; sorry it took so long."
"No problem." He murmured distractedly, pulling from the drawer a large, silver-handled flashlight. "I wanna see if I can find an electrical box somewhere, and I also want to check out those other railroad cars; there may be others inside them."
"I thought about that, too," she touched his arm somberly. "If there are, it won't be easy getting them out."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess." His fingers tapped against hers. "Listen, why don't you go through this room with a fine-toothed comb; hopefully you'll find something just as useful." He waved the flashlight, adding, "I think we're okay using normal voices; I'll holler if I need your help."
Relieved to be doing something productive and be suffused in the welcome glow from the desk lamp, Amanda began the process of methodically examining each of the six desk drawers. While well-stocked with standard office supplies, there existed no distinguishing clues; no hastily scribbled notes, letterhead or business cards that gave any hint about the reason they were here and who their captors might be. Two packages of Wrigley's Spearmint gum, unopened, and still well within their expiration date were the only non-office supply items. She could discern no false drawers or other hidden spaces within or under the desk and only found the electrical wall socket to power the desk lamp when she pulled it away from the wall. There were no other outlets in the room, no phone or phone jacks. There weren't even any manufacturing labels on any of these items.
The wall-mounted cabinets consisted of three cupboards. Frankly, Amanda thought they looked better suited to a kitchen than an office. Two were empty, the last stacked to capacity with bulk boxes supposedly containing a mix of peanut butter or cheese crackers. Pulling out and opening several revealed the accuracy of the packaging, the date of expiration not until February of next year.
While she'd been working, Lee was periodically updating her with his investigation. There appeared to be no other electric source within the warehouse other than the office. Even the huge doors at each end of the warehouse opened manually using thick ropes attached to each side. As Amanda'd verified earlier, he, too, found no apparent outside entrance to the railroad cars other than through the grate at the top.
Periodically glancing out to the duskiness in the warehouse, she saw the powerful beam from the flashlight bobbing around as he moved. She found herself pausing every time she heard his same refrain from the top of each car. "I'm a federal agent. If someone's down there, shout if you can or make some noise against something."
Finished with her part of the investigation, Amanda took the time to examine her own reflection in the privacy of the bathroom. She was wearing one of her UVA college sweatshirts with a white tee underneath. Her makeup had run a bit, giving her a raccoon-ish look, but a little soap and water washed most of it off. After being a human springboard for Lee's high jump out of the railroad car, she'd anticipated hurting a lot more. A casual inventory revealed some superficial bruising along her arms and thighs and minor redness around her wrists from the cuffs. Her hair was straggling out of its clip, so she did her best to finger-comb it back in place. Her cases with Lee often left her with darker bruises and irrepealable damage to her clothes. She looked pretty good for someone who was being held by an unknown captor for an unknown reason in an unknown location with no means of communication with her family and the Agency.
As she slowly rehydrated, awkwardly gulping the water from the tap, she realized that an exact awareness of how long they'd been missing was hard to determine. Was it one or two days? If they hadn't been taken sometime on Friday after work, it was unlikely the Agency would even notice their absence until Monday. Mother and the boys must be frantic. I never made it home. Wait, she glanced at herself in the mirror. I must have; Lee remembered I was wearing a skirt.
Try as she might, Amanda could only pinpoint that her last memory before coming to in the railroad car was saying goodbye to Lee in the Agency parking lot at the end of the day. The last job they'd worked on, and weekend plans with her family hovered at the edge of her consciousness.
No light issued forth from the warehouse windows, and Lee could only surmise that it was now evening. His trusty flashlight and the light emitting from the corner office created quite the contrast to the cloaking, all-encompassing blackness inside the damned railroad car. At least no one else had been trapped inside them. Amanda was coming out of the bathroom as he returned to the office.
"Well," she smiled at him, "I found dinner, oh, and dessert." She demonstrated with a Vanna White flourish as she dramatically opened an upper cupboard and gestured to the packages of gum on the desk.
"Food, water, shelter," he grinned sardonically with a glance around the space, "We've certainly endured worse." Setting the flashlight on the desk, he made a quick trip to the bathroom, where he gulped down water before rejoining her. In that short time, she'd opened one box each of the crackers and was comfortably ensconced in the only chair, munching her way through a package of cheese crackers.
"That processed cheese is disgusting, Amanda." He sat on the desk, reluctantly grabbing the only other option. "Remind me to take you to White Horse when we get out of this. They have the most amazing meat and cheese appetizer." Biting into his cracker, he lamented, "Ugh, peanut butter."
Laughing lightly at the expression on his face, "The boys love these, and they are perfect for school lunches, field and camping trips…I'll hold you to that invitation though. So long as the cheese isn't like the lab experiments you keep in your fridge."
He rewarded her with a look that split her face into her fullest, warmest, and most welcoming smile, followed by that husky laugh that sparked his senses in a very enticing way. Her eyes followed the flick of his fingers as he brushed away the crumbs that had accumulated on his jeans. "What are you thinking?"
"Just how immaculate this place is…" Her eyes narrowed, lips slightly pursed, as she gestured to the contradictory evidence now at his feet, "or was. Don't you think that's strange?"
"Not especially, so our captors have OCD or a good cleaning service."
"No, Lee, it's more than that." She abruptly stood and tried to pace within the confines of the office. "There's no distinct smell. All places have some scent. Look around you. Everything is spotless. Not only are the drawers organized, but there's not a particle of dust, pencil shavings, loose staples—anything." She ran her fingers along the window ledge and the chair legs. "See? Nothing. No dust bunnies, no cobwebs in corners, and," she flipped on the bathroom light, "I've never seen a bathroom so clean. You could eat off this floor-I wouldn't," she hastened to add at his expression, "but you get what I mean. It's like it's brand-new."
Running his hand through his hair, he mused, "Okay, so maybe it's a bit unusual, but how is any of this helping us figure out how we ended up here?"
"And look at us." She continued, gesturing between them. "After all we went through inside that car, shouldn't we have a layer of some dirt or grime? You climbed up and down all ten of those cars, and there's not a mark on you, no tears to your clothes, no grease stains. I'd bet the rest of this warehouse is just as clean as this room and the cars. Lee," she stopped in front of him, her expressively beautiful, brown eyes widening, husky voice turned wobbly, "I think we're the only ones who've ever been here."
Grasping both her arms, he waited until her eyes connected with his. "A-man-da," he scolded in the gentlest tone he could muster, "you know that doesn't make sense." Stepping back slightly, he tapped his fingers along the top of her hand as he ticked off his rebuttal points. "The warehouse and those cars are structures; somebody built them. Someone was here for electrical and plumbing hook-ups. Someone designed the office space and plenished it with food, and someone cuffed us and dumped us inside that car."
Her eyes never left his face as she solemnly, affirmatively acknowledged each of his arguments, then added in a tone as gentle as his, "I don't know how to explain the feeling I have, but I don't think anyone is coming back to get me, or you. If you hadn't been with me, I would have died in there."
"Hey, now." He folded her against him and luxuriated in the immediate melting of her body to his. Then it happened again, an unspoken awareness that always hummed between them, but occasionally, as now, created an exquisite tension like a live wire, ready to spark. How long they held each other, he had no way of judging, but the thought of Amanda lost to him forever was a terror both too real from prior circumstances and continuously imagined. Then her hands rested against his chest, and he found himself drowning in the depths of her eyes and what he saw there that she so often hid. He desperately wanted to acknowledge it, to slowly and very thoroughly kiss the lips so close to his own. His imagination tumbled into the most intimate of his unfulfilled fantasies in which, he was sure, he could persuade her to participate. Quite suddenly, a tremendous growl traveled out from their shared space, breaking the spell completely as they laughed with one another.
"Was that hunger or indigestion?"
"I don't know, was that you?"
"I thought it was you."
"I just had an idea."
"Yeah?" Lee was hopeful, but Amanda moved away to retrieve writing utensils and notepads from one of the desk drawers.
"Let's write down everything we can remember, then combine what we agree to be true in a final report."
"Like a case summary, then. So, who writes the final report?"
"That's the senior agent's responsibility, of course," quipped Amanda, knowing what was coming next.
"Not when the junior agent is much better suited to the task." He smugly replied.
Sticking her tongue out at him, she promptly dropped into the chair, opened another package of crackers, and rapidly began a bulleted list, ignoring him completely. It was a good idea, but he was grateful to have the reprieve of the bathroom before settling to the same task. Sometime later, both with several empty wrappers around them were ready to share. Amanda pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, and they began discussing their statements.
It was easy to agree that the last time they'd seen each other was in the Agency parking lot at the end of Friday's workday. Both agreed that their present state of dress was not what they remembered the other wearing on Friday. She made an additional note that neither of them could recall the cases they'd handled that day, not even where they'd gone to lunch, or what password they'd had to give to Mrs. Marston, who guarded the Agency so zealously. Equally uncertain was who was behind their abduction. They bandied names and cases back and forth with no success. Were they abducted together? Did one find out the other was gone only to become a victim in the quest to save the other? Convinced she'd been alone when she'd first awoken in the train car, Amanda was willing to concede that her confusion and pain could have hindered her awareness of him.
They also couldn't agree on the time of the abduction. The watch Lee had been wearing when they'd found each other had stopped at 11:32 p.m., but how long it had been that way was unclear. It could have happened any point after Friday, but their casual dress hinted that it also could have been on Saturday or Sunday.
"By the way, I don't ever remember seeing you wear a glow-in-the-dark watch; you usually wear the square-shaped one at work and the big black one with navigational tools on weekends or when we're on stake-out."
"Don't know," he shook his head. "I used to have something like it when I was a kid. All we know for sure then is that we've spent at least one full day and, soon to be night here."
By the time they'd finished sharing their lists, the joint report comprised nearly half a page, mostly full of details of their escape from the train car. They added that Lee's gun was missing, and Amanda insisted that a description of the austerity of the warehouse was relevant. Finally, Lee had her add the notation that tomorrow's goal was to leave the warehouse and find their way home.
"Sounds so simple." She commented wistfully.
Stretching over her to glance through what she'd written, he complained, "C'mon, Amanda, you know I can't read shorthand."
"And I'll be happy to dictate if you decide you'd like to be the one to type the final report." She smiled too sweetly.
Recognizing that expression, he wisely let it go, nodding in the direction of the bathroom, "Back in a few."
While he was gone, Amanda disposed of their wrappers, then, thinking about tomorrow, emptied the remaining crackers from one box and used the scissors she'd found in the desk to make some hastily-cut handles near the top. Inside, she placed the scissors, flashlight, their notes, and as many crackers as she could fit. She also included all but two pieces of the gum. He teased her about the box but privately agreed that the resources might come in handy and though not a gum chewer, was glad to have something other than water to refresh his mouth.
On her return from the bathroom, she found Lee stretched out across the desk, lying in a modified fetal position on his left side, arm under his head as a cushion. "Let's try and catch a few before we get out of here, chair's yours."
To his surprise, her suggestion was to share the chair, he seated, and she across his lap. The idea of holding a conscious Amanda instead of unconscious, as he had done more times than he wanted to think about, was undoubtedly a more pleasant alternative. Still, that unique vibration that so often manifested between them was something else to consider. Then he looked directly at her and saw how fatigued she was in the droop of her shoulders and the dullness of her eyes. There was no reason why two people who worked closely together could not behave professionally. Plus, he couldn't deny that leaning back into that chair was a hell of a lot more appealing than his present position.
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Amanda opened the Q bureau door to the delicious odor of freshly brewed coffee and the delectable physiognomy of her partner perched behind his computer. He was wearing one of her favorite suits, charcoal gray, complemented by a midnight blue dress shirt that brought out the hazel in his incredible eyes. She'd helped him pick out the tie, belt, and black leather shoes.
Never immune to the manifest charms of this incredibly handsome man who was her working partner and very best friend, she'd tried hard to hide the fact that she could become as overwhelmed at times by him as most of the steno pool girls did. The difference was that she had never thought of him as Scarecrow, the agent and ultra-sexy ladies' man who could turn heads with less than a wink, a promise, or a long-term commitment. To her, he had always been Lee Stetson, the man, who didn't fool her one bit. He claimed to be a loner, preferring to play the field, needing to rely on no one but himself, but he'd slipped up a few times over their years together, and she'd seen glimpses of someone who'd been hurt many times and was just plain scared.
So, she'd focused on the professional, watching his back because he was often too reckless to care about himself and then becoming a friend he could trust. He appreciated these traits in her, and they'd formed a bond that she treasured deeply. She felt a great sense of satisfaction that he now openly referred to her as his partner, which was nothing short of miraculous given his original demeanor toward her.
Occasionally, a sizzling tension rose between them that made her question whether there could ever be more to their relationship, but if they acted on it, would it eventually relegate her to one of the many women from his past, like a Francine? She couldn't bear that thought.
As they greeted one another, he got up to meet her, surrendering her of one of several items she juggled in her arms. "I was hoping you'd bring creamer."
"Thanks," she gladly accepted the steaming cup of coffee he handed her after she'd had the opportunity to set the rest of her items down and put her purse away. "So, what gives? You are never here this early; you hardly ever say 'hello,' let alone 'good morning,' until you've had at least two cups of coffee, and you're grinning wider and brighter than the Cheshire cat."
"Nothing's up." If possible, he only grinned more, looking very much like one of her sons trying not to reveal a big secret. "I just wanted to get here early because I have plans for the rest of the day."
"Oh, I see." She replied cautiously. She knew his schedule for today, so this must be personal.
He came back to her desk and gently removed her cup so he could draw her out to the middle of the room, pulling at both her hands. "We have plans for the rest of the day."
"We do?" Her mouth was suddenly dry.
"Mrs. King, we," he pulled up each hand for a brief kiss, "are playing hooky." Winking at her, he added, "Are you game?"
Was she game? Especially when he looked at her like that? Play it cool, Amanda.
"Sure. What's the occasion?"
His hands slid to her waist, and he pulled her close so he could whisper against the shell of her ear, "After yesterday, I'd think you'd know."
"Oh." Overwhelmed by their proximity, she tried to hide her confusion. Whatever in the world was he talking about? How could she find out without sounding like, what was Philip's current word? A doofus?
"How long 'til we make our escape?"
She felt him smile against her ear before emitting a soft chuckle. "As soon as you sign off on the report and it gets deposited in Billy's inbox."
"What report?"
He leaned back to gaze at her so fondly, so openly that her heart went from painful thumps to rollicking gallops. Chucking her lightly under the chin, he stepped away to retrieve something from the disorder spread across his desk. "Of our abduction, of course." He handed some papers to her, then picked up his coffee for another sip.
"Lee, there's nothing on these." She held stapled sheets of blank pages.
His eyebrows shot up. "Hmm, we'll have to try printing it again; you can always make these things," he patted the top of his computer, "do anything. C'mere and read it." He gestured to the chair behind his desk.
"Freshen me up?" She handed him her cup.
"With pleasure." He pulled out the chair for her to sit then took the cup.
"Lee," she complained, "I just straightened all this up before we left on Friday." She was gesturing at his desk.
"Na-uh," He handed her the steaming mug. "You mean Thursday, and you know I can never find anything after you do that."
Shaking her head at the mess, she cautiously took a sip as her eyes perused the writing on the screen, quickly recognizing the wording from the rough draft they'd composed in the warehouse. Skimming to the new content, she leaned forward and frowned at what she saw.
He'd indicated that after escaping the warehouse, they'd found the main road and had hitchhiked to the nearest town where Lee put in a call to the Agency only to discover that the suspects from the case they'd been working on were apprehended. No one from the Agency had even known about the abduction because it had happened over the weekend.
So many questions bubbled around the vaguely-written report. If this was Monday morning, what in the world happened between them on Sunday? What story had she fed her mother about her missing time from home? How much time had she spent with the boys this weekend? What had she eaten for breakfast this morning?
The last thing she could remember was being in the warehouse office with Lee. Leaning back in his chair, she swallowed more coffee as she surveyed the room, only coming up with more questions that had no clear-cut answers.
Lee had stepped into the vault during part of the time she'd been reading, but flashed her his most brilliant smile as their eyes met.
"Okay, hit the print button on that thing and let's hightail it outa here before Billy finds something for us to do."
"Wait, Lee. Something's not right."
"So, fix it." He waved toward the computer, impatient to leave.
"How'd you read my short-hand?"
"Short-hand? Amanda, your penmanship is crystal clear."
"What's today's password?"
"You know what it is; you wouldn't be here otherwise." At her patented "Mom" glare, he belted out, "truffles."
"That was Thursday's word. You know I've got a logical mind, Lee, and there's a lot of things going on here that don't make sense." Her gesture encompassed the screen and Q bureau.
"What in blazes are you talking about?" He protested, tapping an index finger on the top of the computer. "It's all right here-"
"No explanation for why, much less where, how, or when our abduction occurred." She interrupted.
"They wanted revenge."
"Who? There are no names here, no evidence, no identification." She began ticking off points with her fingers, "The location of our captivity, the name of the main road and town, specifically how we got back to D.C. Neither of us had identification or money."
"A-man-da, you were with me the whole time; if you think I was too vague, then add in the details."
"But, Lee," her tone dropped, and she found it difficult to maintain eye contact, "I don't remember any of this, and I don't think you do, either."
"What the hell, Amanda."
"Lee," she stated quietly, yet firmly, "the last thing I remember is being in that office warehouse with you. Give me one specific detail after we supposedly left the warehouse."
Running his fingers through his hair, he began pacing the room, finally looking up at her. "Does this mean you don't remember Sunday, either?"
She could barely nod before glancing down.
"When it was just us? Nothing to fear? And no interruptions?"
"I wish I did." She spoke wistfully.
"Come over here." As she did, he took her hands in his. "I remember Sunday, but I can't identify any of the specifics of our escape and rescue, either." His tone conveyed both disappointment and confusion.
"Something isn't right, Lee. I don't think this is real. Maybe I'm dreaming, maybe you are." Her gaze was earnest and direct, "I don't think we ever escaped the warehouse."
Lee was quiet for a moment looking at her, then, "C'mon, let's get out of here. We'll see Mrs. Marston on the way out. She'll confirm we've been here, and then we can get this all sorted out."
Before she could respond, he was dragging her to the door, but she broke away long enough to retrieve her purse, joining him just as he opened it. As he rushed her through the hallway and they clattered down the stairs, she felt the change immediately. The same, all-encompassing silence as their place of captivity. No buzz of electricity, everything model-home perfectly immaculate and no Mrs. Marston.
"There's no one here but us." He seemed surprised.
"Lee," He looked toward her, "we don't have our badges. And there's no phone here. I don't think we had any upstairs, either."
"What the hell is going on!" He yelled, his voice echoing unnaturally in a way it never did in the room.
Stepping up to him, she grasped hold of his lapels as she shook her head, "I don't know."
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The door was much, much bigger close-up, maybe large enough for three semi-trucks to drive through simultaneously. Judging from the faint light coming through the windows far above, it was the dawning of a new day and, they hoped, the last they would spend in the warehouse.
An enormously thick rope, thicker than the kind Amanda had shimmied up and down in 9th-grade gym class, was the only means of opening and closing it. It was similar to Grandpa West's garage; Grandpa's had only required one rope, but this door had cables on both sides. Standing on opposite ends, they attempted to raise the door, it was working, but their progress was slow. It probably required a minimum of two very strong-armed men to accomplish it efficiently. Both soon had burns on their hands and mere precious inches to show for it. Presently, the door looked a lot like the unevenness Amanda often experienced with Venetian blinds, one side higher than its counterpart. Periodically, Lee switched with her to try to even it up.
After an interminable time, there was finally enough of a gap that Amanda could have probably squeezed though, but not knowing what awaited on the other side, Lee was reluctant for her to go by herself. He was also afraid the door might slam down and crush her. Both were drenched in sweat, dry-mouthed, and exhausted.
"If only we could hook the rope to some moving vehicle and use its weight to give us the leverage we need." Amanda lamented. At the same time, they exclaimed, "the desk!" It was too heavy to move with its drawers, so Amanda pulled them out while Lee ducked his whole head under the tap, then gulped down a ton of water. Too wide to go through the door, they tipped it on its side and pushed it through, scraping against the floor. The noise was both irritating and welcoming, as it provided a contrast to the overall stillness that prevailed. Righting, then lifting one end enough to wrap the rope around a leg, they then retrieved the drawers, reinserting them to give the desk its full weight. Pushing against it was more effective than pulling at the rope and lifted the door more quickly than they could have hoped. Enough of it finally rose for them to pass through, which they did as soon as they rehydrated for the last time.
Their first step outside blinded them after being mostly in darkness for so long. Gradually the details emerged. The sun, newly risen, revealed that the warehouse was in part of a field surrounded by woods, the leaves indicating that autumn was approaching.
"My car!" Both moved immediately toward the silver corvette, but Lee quickly stopped them. The passenger door was wide open, and the car sat at an awkward angle, perhaps forced into a sudden stop. Retrieving the flashlight from the box Amanda carried, he instructed her to stay back while he checked it out for any signs of tampering.
While he did this, Amanda noted that the road they'd come in on was little more than a single car dirt path which cut into woods, presumably to another crossing. Glancing behind her, she observed that the warehouse filled up almost all of the field on which it sat. It was entirely white and looked as scrupulously clean outside as the interior. When he gave the okay, she picked up their "supply" box and met him there, carefully observing the ground for signs of other vehicles or footprints beyond their own, but there were none.
"She looks good, no interior or exterior damage. I found my holster in the back, no gun, though. The keys are still in the ignition."
As much as they wanted to leave, Lee insisted they check the perimeter of the warehouse. As they did so, Amanda noticed his frown, and when asked, he responded, "I've been trying to nail down why this looks so familiar to me."
Neither remembered driving to it nor seeing the outside before. Snapping his fingers, he articulated, "It looks a lot like an airplane hangar; look at the shape of the roof." This revelation meant nothing to Amanda, and other than satisfying Lee, provided no insight into why they'd been here.