Finding Owen Shannon in an ever growing pool of blood didn't help reduce the tension tightening every muscle and joint in Gil's body.
Neither did finding Bright was nowhere in sight.
Swanson voicing her usual anti-Bright diatribe also wasn't helping the throbbing pain that formed behind his right eye soon as the kid called to tell him they found an address for Watkins.
"Look," he said after one particularly cutting barb about Bright's inability to follow commands. "A former police officer has been killed. Can we focus on that?"
Can we focus on getting my boy back safe? Gil didn't say that. Not out loud, anyway. Collette Swanson wouldn't understand. She didn't want to understand, he seethed silently. Collette Swanson decided long ago that Bright was like his father and that was all there was to it.
"Fine." Swanson crouched down to stare into Shannon's lifeless eyes. "Do we know how long ago it was that Bright and Owen Shannon arrived here to question Mathilda Watkins?"
"Bright called me a little over two hours ago to tell me they figured out Paul Lazar is really John Watkins," Gil replied with a glance at Dani. "They traced him to this address and were investigating the possibility of him still living here when we lost contact."
"You didn't tell Bright to wait for backup?"
"Right." JT moved to stand beside Gil. A bulldog protecting his pack. "Bright doesn't understand the meaning of those words."
"My point exactly, Detective Tarmel." Swanson rose back to her feet and faced them. "Bright didn't wait for backup. He didn't even ask for it. It makes me wonder why. What did he know? What did he see? What did he and Watkins talk about?"
"Bright didn't think there was a need for backup." Dani's voice was calm but Gil could see she was at the end of her rope with Swanson's blanket accusations about Bright and his involvement with Watkins. "He was just following a lead. He had no idea Watkins would be here."
"How can we be sure Bright didn't help lure Detective Shannon here for Watkins to kill?"
"Because that's not Bright," JT growled. "Guy's a lotta things but not a killer."
"He's the son of one."
"Yes, the son of one." Dani frowned her disapproval. "That doesn't make him one."
"Statistics show that the children of..."
"I don't care what the statistics say about the children of serial killer," Gil interjected in a hard voice. "Bright's not a killer."
Nor will he ever become one, he swore as his gaze clashed with the agents. Gil had done everything he could to make sure Bright wouldn't go down the path Martin Whitly so desperately wanted him too.
"Then where is Bright?" Swanson waved her hands through the air. "Why isn't he here to account for what happened? To explain why a former police detective is dead?"
"Maybe 'cause Watkins kidnapped his skinny ass." JT glanced almost apologetically at Gil and then Dani. "Only reason there is for why Bright's not here to tell us what happened."
Gil's had been doing his best to avoid admitting what JT just said to himself. Even as he raced here, he had known they wouldn't find Bright.
Still, he hoped.
Prayed.
He got through Quantico. That thought played over and over through Gil's mind. Bright survived FBI training. He worked for ten years as a special agent. Sure, his methods were unconventional. Yes, he was unorthodox. He got himself in a couple of scraps. Punched a local sheriff...
Nothing like this, though.
John Watkins wasn't an average run of the mill serial killer, though. He had a personal connection with Bright.
With Martin Whitly.
And that, Gil thought as a stretcher was wheeled in by someone he didn't recognize, is what makes this situation more dangerous than it already is.
They didn't know what Watkins wanted with Bright. There could be any number of reasons for why he chose to kidnap him.
None of them good.
"We need to interview Matilda Watkins." Gil ran a not so steady hand over his face. "See what she has to say. Maybe get an idea about what happened."
And where Watkins took Bright.
"That lady is nuttier than a fruitcake." JT moved so Shannon's body could be slid into a body bag. An ignoble end by Gil's way of thinking. "You heard all that crazy ass stuff she was spewing when we showed up."
Crazy is an understatement. Gil turned to look out the window. Mathilda Watkins sat quietly in the back of a squad car. She appeared benign, harmless. Completely opposite of the crazed woman who opened her front door and pelted them with vitriolic acid.
"She's our best bet for figuring out where Watkins may have taken Bright."
"Best of a bunch of bad options," JT muttered as he lumbered towards the exit. "You want me and Dani to interview her, Boss?"
"I'll interview her." Swanson headed for the front door. "This is still my case."
"And Bright's our guy."
Gil couldn't be more proud at that moment. Hearing, knowing that JT considered Bright one of the team.
"Maybe." Swanson sent a look over her shoulder. "I'll let you know if I get anything useful."
Protocol forbid him from telling the special agent exactly what he thought of her. And it won't help Bright if I get into a heated exchange with her, he reasoned as he turned to Dani and JT.
"Search the premises," he ordered as Owen Shannon's shrouded body was wheeled out. "It's possible we might turn up something that will give us an idea about where Watkins took Bright."
"Right."
"Sure thing, Boss."
They split up, JT heading upstairs, Dani sweeping the downstairs, and Gil going out to check around the back of the house. He kept his mind open, hoping he'd find Bright lying out there unconscious.
He was about to enter the garage when the sound of something buzzing snagged his attention. Gil went taut as a wire, eyes sweeping the perimeter to find the source of the sound. Every nerve tingled as he waited for... something, anything to happen.
His brow furrowed when the buzzing came again.
Cell phone?
He aimed his flashlight into a corner of the garage and let out a low curse when it illuminated a coat tossed over a sawhorse.
"That's Bright's coat." Gil hadn't heard Dani exit the house. A rookie mistake, but one he accepted because it was his kid in danger. "And his shoes over there." The buzzing came again. "Think that's his cellphone?"
Gil walked over to feel in the pockets of the coat. His fingers encountered a long rectangular box in the inside pocket. The charm bracelet he bought Sorcha. He never got the chance to give it to her.
He had to hope the kid would get a chance to give it to her. Gil fished Bright's phone out as it buzzed again. A look at the caller ID didn't bring him any relief. In fact, it made the anxiety tightening his belly worse. Kid, we're gonna have a long talk once you're home safe.
He swiped his finger across the screen to answer.
"Where are you?" He exchanged a look with Dani. Saw one dark brow lift. He shook his head before saying, his tone the one he used on Bright when he wanted the kid to know he was serious. "Go into my office and wait there for me." He disconnected the call as JT joined them. "Sorcha's at the precinct."
"First place she'd go to look for Bright."'Dani stowed her gun in its holster. "Especially if he wasn't answering his phone."
JT made a sound that was part grunt and part sigh before he said, "We're gonna need to get back to the precinct, Boss."
Gil looked at him, brow furrowed. "Why?"
"Cause Agent Swanson is there."
Who'd have no problem telling Sorcha what she believed happened here, Gil realized as Dani sighed. Last thing I need is an altercation between the two of them.
"Let's go," he told them. "And JT? If you get there before we do?"
"Lock her in your office?"
"Damn right."
…
"Finally have us some alone time, Malcolm." Watkins crouched down in front of him, a small smile appearing through the thick bristles covering the lower half of his face. "Can talk about a few things. Clear the air between us."
"Yeah?" Malcolm croaked as he blinked up at him through the bright light shining into his face. "Why don't we start by discussing the girl in the box then?"
"Always the girl in the box." There was a bite to Watkins tone. A dangerous one that told Malcolm clear as day that this was a sore subject with Watkins. "Yanno, you're like a broken record. Fixating on one subject more than appreciating things as a whole."
"What can I say? When I get fixated on something, I get fixated on it."
The words were light, airy, almost nonchalant. Opposite of the churning flood of emotions simmering below the surface. Anger, fear, guilt. All one simmering ball begging for release. Malcolm kept them locked away. They wouldn't get the answers he wanted from Watkins.
No, he needed to remain cool and calm. Keep his head clear. Approach Watkins with rational thoughts rather than emotionally driven ones.
"I think you've got more of your old man in you than you realize."
"Yeah?" Malcolm squinted through the light shining directly in his face. "I keep hearing that."
"Of course, your old man has more of a God complex than the hero one you seem to favor."
"Not surprising since he's a megalomaniac."
Watkins hummed what sounded like a laugh. "Not the only thing he is."
"Yeah?" He wet his dry lips with his tongue. "Want to share what else he is?"
"Oh, we'll get to your old man," Watkins assured him with another smile. "In good time."
Malcolm rattled the chains he was bound in. "Doesn't look like I'm going anywhere."
"Not until you complete your trials."
"Trials? What trials?"
Not that he didn't have a good bet on what those trials would be. He couldn't be sure how long he was unconscious. It could have been an hour, two or more. What he did know was Watkins chained him up in this cement bunker and took his coat, suit jacket, socks, and shoes for a reason.
"Patience, Malcolm." Watkins pushed himself to his feet. "We have plenty of time for all that."
He left Malcolm alone with his spiraling thoughts then.
And an ever increasing feeling in his gut he wouldn't make it out of this situation as the broken man he had been.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!
I just want to send a special thank you to Rookblonkorules for their lovely reviews!
