"You've never expressly denied whether or not I'm not your next mission."

Watkins eyes narrowed but he offered no response. Not that Malcolm expected one. The man had been silent since returning from wherever it was he went between their visits. Why wasn't clear. Malcolm figured it was him finalizing whatever he had planned for him.

A steadily growing concern of Malcolm's was that he wasn't Watkins only victim. The more he thought about what happened at the Watkins home, the more he realized there was a reason for why Matilda Watkins had to call him home.

A call that resulted in Owen Shannon getting his throat slit.

Another change in Watkins modus operandi.

Same as using a gun to kill Ian Turner and that escort.

"Pretty sure you're going to starve me. Deprive me of water. Sleep. Same as you did with all your other victims. Too bad I tend to avoid those things."

Nothing.

Not even an eye blink.

Malcolm pushed himself into a seated position, mindful of the wound weeping fresh blood with every move he made.

"Also guessing you will eventually want me to atone for my sins." He forced his lips into a smile despite the creeping fatigue and bright bite of pain from every breath he took. "Afraid we're gonna be here a while if that's the case. Gotta lot to confess."

The last elicited a response from Watkins.

"Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm." He crouched so he could stare him in the eyes. "I told you, I'm finished with saving people."

That sent pinpricks of alarm dancing along Malcolm's already frayed nerves. It could only mean one thing: Watkins definitely had something in store for him. Trials, he called them. What those trials might be, he didn't know. Malcolm hid his concern behind a combination of smug certainty and glacier calm.

"So, I was right." He breathed through the burst of pain that shot across his chest as he moved into a more comfortable position. "You're evolving."

Which didn't bode well for him or whoever else Watkins might have down there with them.

He needed to figure out a way to get out of the cuffs Watkins locked him into.

To get to a phone.

To call Gil.

Dani.

JT.

To get help for whatever poor, unfortunate soul Watkins could, at that moment, be torturing nearby.

He needed to get Watkins to talk. That was his first and foremost priority. To get Watkins talking.

Get him to reveal where they were.

And who else he has down here with us.

That way, if an opportunity presented itself, he could pass the information along.

"Haven't you not figured it out, little Malcolm?" A small smile creased Watkins lips. "I'm a chameleon." Malcolm figured that out weeks ago. How else could Watkins have managed to remain undetected for the last twenty years? "I'm always evolving. Never doing things the same way." He eased back to sit against the wall across from him. "That's how your old man ended up getting caught. See, I knew I needed to do things differently. Make sure I couldn't be connected with the Surgeon."

"Until Deputy Chief Turner figured out the Junkyard Killer and my father's accomplice were one and the same."

"Couldn't let that little detail get revealed." Something passed across Watkins face. A shadow of something Malcolm couldn't readily identify. Hate, anger? Either sparked his curiosity. "I'm not your father. I didn't go to the well one too many times." Watkins drew one leg up and placed an arm across it. "See, I warned him you were a liability. You were asking too many questions. He didn't listen. Said he had everything under control."

"Since he planned to…"

Malcolm couldn't bring himself to finish that statement. It still seemed too impossible to him.

Too illogical.

Too improbable.

His father couldn't have been planning to kill him.

"Oh, he planned to kill you, Malcolm," Watkins said, as if he could sense Malcolm's thought. "I guarantee you that."

"Why didn't he then?"

He wanted to know that almost more than he wanted to know who the girl in the box was. Not that he'd get that answer out of Watkins, either. No, Watkins just barked a soft laugh.

"That's something you'd have to get your old man to explain."

"Gonna be a bit hard for me to ask him about it if I'm dead."

"Oh, I don't plan on killing you, Malcolm."

"No?"

"Oh, no." Watkins pushed to his feet. "I've got something else in mind for you."

"What?"

Not that Malcolm didn't already have a good idea about what Watkins had in store for him.

Watkins made a soft tsk-tsk sound. "Not telling you. Not yet." He turned to leave. "We can continue this conversation when I get back."

"Sure," Malcolm said. "Since we haven't talked about the girl in the box."

Watkins left without offering a reply.

Not that Malcolm expected one.

...

Gil questioned the wiseness of his decision to have Sorcha help them less than an hour later. She was a benefit to him and the investigation. Long as he kept her and Agent Swanson from seeing each other.

He accomplished it mostly because Swanson was busy trying to get what information she could put of Matilda Watkins.

Which, as Sorcha tried to convey to him in his office earlier, had amounted to nothing. The woman spewed nothing but hatred for them and praise for what her "Johnny" had done.

Frustrated, dismayed, Gil exited the interrogation room. He stopped when he saw Sorcha standing next to Dani by the two-way glass. Dammit, if Swanson sees her… He didn't get a chance to send the two back to his office, though.

"What is she doing here?" Swanson demanded, eyes narrowing into thin slits. "She has no business being here."

"Malcolm is my friend." Sorcha shot back. "That gives me every reason to be here."

"Friend? Is that what they're calling accomplices here?"

"Accomplice, now, am I?" Sorcha snorted a laugh. "That's rich."

"You spoke with Bright before his disappearance."

"No, I received a text message from him." Sorcha tossed her head and folded her arms across her chest. "Something you'd know if you bothered to ask me about it rather than make your usual assumptions."

"You should have notified—"

"She didn't need to notify anyone," Gil interjected, voice firm. "I found Bright's phone in his coat at the scene. I'm the one who told Sorcha to come here and wait for me."

Swanson half-turned towards him, her look one of warning. As if he'd be easily cowed. "Lieutenant—"

"I did not want Sorcha finding out what happened to Bright on the news."

"Irregardless." She indicated they interrogation room with a wave of her hand. "She had no business watching my interrogation."

Gil wanted to fire back that it wasn't her interrogation but thought better of it. Things were already tense enough without him adding to it.

"Sorcha warned me that we'd get nothing from Matilda Watkins," he said instead. "And she was right."

"We haven't gotten anything to exonerate Bright, you mean."

"You really hate him that much, don't you?" Sorcha shook her head. "Even his being kidnapped by a dangerous predator isn't enough to convince you that Malcolm is not what you think he is."

"You also know what he is, Miss Corbin. You just refuse to admit it because of your personal relationship with him."

"I have been admitting what Malcolm is since we encountered each other outside the FBI building. You just refuse to listen because your inferiority complex prevents you from hearing what is being said."

"I do not have an inferiority complex."

"You could have fooled me." Sorcha turned towards Dani. Dismissing Swanson. Something the agent didn't take kindly if the fury on her face was any indication. "Malcom's coat was found with his shoes and socks at the scene?"

"Miss Corbin," Swanson interrupted before Dani could confirm they had been. "You are not part of this case. You are not..."

"Qualified to help?" Sorcha turned back to her. "Oh, I assure you I'm more than qualified to help. As you pointed out... I have a personal relationship with Malcom. I've known him for years. I know how he thinks. Beyond that? I know everything he thought and believed about this man, John Watkins. Kinda relevant if you ask me."

"That doesn't make you qualified to work this case."

"No? Call Lieutenant Mick Brannigan at the 29. He'll happily tell you my qualifications. Or better yet, call Doug Kindle and ask him if I'm qualified to work as a consultant." A smirk screwed up one corner of her mouth. "He is your boss, isn't he?"

"He's the Unit Chief, yes." Swanson's tone could have cut glass. "Not that..."

"Better yet, call Adam Corolla." Sorcha's smile was thin as a blade. "The newly appointed Assistant Director as of this morning."

Swanson's eyes widened. "How do you know that?"

"Adam was my father's best friend." A hard glint flashed through Sorcha's eyes. "You remember Ian Corbin, don't you? He was Unit Chief before his death."

"Damn," JT breathed out behind Gil. "Girl got connections."

Those weren't the only connections Sorcha had. Former Deputy Chief Hoyt Brannigan was also her uncle. And she has another uncle and cousin who work for the NYPD. Gil kept that information to himself. Way he saw it, Sorcha was doing just fine on her own.

"Uncle Adam also knows Malcolm. He helped mentor him. Was against the Bureau firing him, in fact. He and Doug both thought it was a bunch of bullshit." Sorcha's lips curled at the corners. "They're currently working on an appeal."

"Bright had a history of..."

"Solving cases? Saving lives? Helping victims? Ending situations without resorting to violence? Gee..." Honeyed acid dripped from Sorcha's tongue. "You'd think that was a good thing but I forgot we're dealing with a bunch of bureaucrats who care more for headlines than lives."

"Bright deserves what happened to him."

"Oh, believe me, I think being let go from the FBI was the best thing for Malcolm." Gil aimed a surprised look at her. He hadn't thought he'd ever hear Sorcha say she thought the kid's being let go was the best thing for him. Especially given all the things they happened to him since becoming a consultant. "He can do more good here as a consultant for the NYPD than he can for the FBI. He also has a team he can trust here. Friends he can rely on. To have his back when he's kidnapped by a serial predator."

Swanson's lip curled. "You're counting on him still being a consultant after this."

"I wouldn't worry so much about if he will still be a consultant after this, Agent Swanson as much as I'd worry about if you'll still have a job after this."

"Why would I be in danger of losing my job?"

"Because if you hinder us in any way from finding Malcolm?" Sorcha spun on one spiky heel. "I will make sure younever work for any law enforcement agency again."


A/N: Hello, all! Hope you're staying safe during these trying times!

I just want to send a special thank you to Rookblonkorules for their lovely reviews!