Telling Jessica that Bright had been kidnapped by a serial killer, one they believed had been working with the Surgeon went about as well as Gil expected.
"You're telling me my son is in the hands of a serial killer?"
"Yes."
Fury mingled with the shock on Jessica's ashen face. Her gaze swung between him and Sorcha. Openly accusatory and silently demanding how such a thing could have happened when they both were supposedly watching out for him.
"Can one of you, please, explain how this happened?"
It was on the tip of Gil's tongue to remind Jessica that Malcolm Bright did what Malcolm Bright wanted but that'd only increase her annoyance. Same with telling her that Bright walked into Watkins grasp by not waiting for backup to arrive.
While perfectly true, it wasn't something Jessica didn't need to hear.
Not at that moment, anyway.
There'd be time later, after the kid was safe and sound, to tell her exactly how and why he ended up in the hands of John Watkins. Bright can do the explaining himself, Gil decided as he sat forward in his chair. For now, he told Jessica what he decided she needed to know.
"Bright discovered the real identity of the Junkyard Killer during our investigation of the death of the Deputy Commissioner."
That part was safe to tell her. It was the truth. It didn't please her to hear, of course, but it smoothed the way for everything else he had yet to reveal.
"And this is the man who has my son?"
"Yes."
"How?" Jessica demanded. "How did my son end up being kidnapped by this... this..." She tossed her hands into the hands. "Serial killer?" She puffed out a breath. "Not that I can't imagine how he ended up in the hands of this man. My son is attracted to danger. Why else would he continue to see his father despite repeatedly being asked not to do so?"
The only reason the kid started seeing his father again was because of him. Because he went to Bright soon as he heard about him being back in New York and asked for help.
Now, he's in the hands of a man who worked with his father.
All because he pulled the kid back into law enforcement instead of helping him find a new, safe career path.
"Jessica, he was waiting at the location he tracked the Junkyard Killer when he was kidnapped."
It wasn't a complete fabrication.
Bright did find an address for John Watkins during his search through whatever files the deputy commissioner had put together.
He did go to the house.
Watkins did ambush him and he did kidnap him.
The only part he left out was that he found Ian Turner's files with the help of Owen Shannon.
Hearing it was Owen Shannon — who Jessica vowed to ruin after what he did to the kid in that interrogation room without her knowledge or consent — was the one Bright worked with to figure out who the Junkyard Killer was would only infuriate her.
More than she is already.
Gil exchanged a quick look with Sorcha. Silently warning her to not divulge that bit of information to Jessica.
Not that he needed to worry.
Sorcha understood the Whitly family better than he, himself. She knew that where Malcolm Bright idled at moody, Jessica Whitly tended to loiter around coolly irate.
"How long ago did this happen?"
"We believe Bright was taken somewhere after seven this evening."
"What?" Incredulity trembled in that single word. "And I'm only hearing about this now?"
"We had to investigate, Jessica."
"Why weren't you with him?" Her eyes shot daggers at him. Cutting Gil deeper than any knife could. "Why did you let him out of your sight? You know how Malcolm is when he's working a case."
"You can't blame, Gil," Sorcha said softly, soothingly. "Malcolm was heading here for dinner."
"And you know this? You can confirm it?"
"Yes." She took a seat beside Jessica on the couch. Close enough she could reach out and take her hand. She didn't, though. Respecting the boundaries between them despite the circumstances. "He told me he was on his way here in one of the text messages he sent me."
"And yet he never arrived."
"An informant tipped him off about the identity of the Junkyard Killer before he got here."
"And who is this man?"
"His name is John Watkins."
"The former Paul Lazar," Sorcha added.
Jessica's gaze swung to her.
"The man who that horrid woman was here investigating?"
"Yes."
"Do you remember anyone by that name coming here to see Dr. Whitly?" Gil asked her. "Going on his camping trips with him?"
A frown marred Jessica's smooth forehead. "No. I did not ask Martin about what he did on his camping trips." An oversight which plagued her. Jessica, like her son, blamed herself for not realizing sooner what her husband was and putting a stop to him. "Why?"
"It would have helped us in figuring out where Watkins might have taken Bright."
"You have no idea where this man has taken my son?" Dismay crossed her face. "Surely you have some idea of where he might have taken him."
"Our first thought is a cabin he and your..." Sorcha trailed off, clearly struggling with finding the appropriate words to address Martin Whitly by. "Dr. Whitly," she finally settled on with a small moue, "used for their camping trips."
"I know nothing about any cabin that man used for these camping trips of his."
"Can you think of any place Dr. Whitly went a lot that might be significant to Malcolm?"
"No." Jessica's frown deepened. "Not unless you count our Hampton cottage."
"No." Sorcha shook her head. "The Hampton's wouldn't be significant to someone like Watkins. He'd want somewhere remote, isolated, and private."
Jessica's face drained of what little color it regained. "Are you saying he plans on killing Malcolm?"
"No, that's not what Sorcha's saying." Gil shot a reproving look at her. "Is it?"
"Killing Malcolm is the last thing that Watkins wants to do." The hands folded in Sorcha's lap trembled, once, then steadied. Like Jessica, Sorcha hid her nerves beneath an iron will and glacier calm. "I won't lie to you, though." She lifted somber eyes to Jessica's. "Just because Watkins won't kill Malcolm doesn't mean he's not in a great amount of danger. He is. And not simply because he's in the hands of a prolific killer." She drew in a breath, released it slowly. "He's off his medication. Is sleep-deprived on a good day. And hasn't eaten more than the bowl of soup I forced him to eat yesterday. He's vulnerable. And Watkins is going to prey on that vulnerability to accomplish what he wants."
"Why?" Only the thin, reedy note in Jessica's tone gave away her anxious state. "What does he want with Malcolm?"
"Revenge."
"Revenge?" Her startled gaze shot to Gil. "For what?"
"We don't know," Gil admitted. "Best we can assume is that he wants to punish Martin. Either for something that happened on that camping trip or after."
"This is about Martin?" Rage thrummed in Jessica's voice. Shone on her face. "Of course, it is. Why wouldn't it be? Everything's about Martin." She pushed to her feet and stalked to the sideboard where glasses and a decanter half-full sat. "He hasn't traumatized this family, especially his son, enough."
"That's why we have to talk to him, Jessica."
Jessica looked over her shoulder at Sorcha. "The last thing Malcolm would want is you talking to his father."
"I've confronted Dr. Whitly before."
"What?"
Gil ignored that and asked, "When did you confront Dr. Whitly?"
"The day Malcolm told him he wouldn't be seeing him any more because he was applying to the FBI."
Gil remembered that day as Jessica came back with a tumbler half full of amber liquid. Sorcha called him from Claremont to tell him Bright had a breakdown while visiting his father.
Begged him to come help because the doctors wanted to send the kid to a hospital nearby.
Something he heard Bright strongly opposing in the background.
He and Jackie arrived to find the kid heavily sedated and Jessica screaming at the doctors. They got the kid out of there with the help of Dr. Le Deux and Jessica threatening legal action if they didn't allow her to bring him home.
Bright never explained what caused him to snap.
Not to him, anyway.
He had a feeling Sorcha knew, though.
And it pushed her to confront Martin Whitly.
Oh, to have been a fly on the wall for that discussion.
"And how exactly did he react to your visit?"
"He wasn't real happy." Sorcha moved the curtains to look outside. "Especially since I told him that I was going to hurt him by taking away his prized possession. His boy." Her voice dropped an octave. "His boomerang. He didn't believe me."
"Of course, he wouldn't." Jessica took a long swallow of her drink. "The man is incredibly arrogant."
"Malcolm stayed away from Martin Whitly for ten years. Not perfect years but good years. He was able to live as close to a normal life as he could during that time. Because I convinced him that continuing to see his father wasn't worth everything he worked to accomplish at Harvard."
"And look where we are now."
"I'll make it happen again," Sorcha vowed in a hard voice. "I'll break that man's hold over Malcolm if it's the last thing I do."
That's exactly why, Gil decided as he stood in the doorway of the conference room and watched Sorcha going through some files she retrieved from Bright's loft with Dani, confronting Martin Whitly is the last thing she is going to do.
"Hey, Boss?"
Gil shook from his dark musings to glance at JT.
"What is it?"
"Think we might have gotten a lead on that cabin Watkins and Bright's old man might have used."
"What's the lead?"
"An old photograph." JT offered him a Polaroid. "Found it in one of the photo albums."
Gil stared at the faded photograph. A medium-shaped wood cabin nestled among trees.
Nothing about the cabin made it stand out to him.
Nothing made it overly special.
Except for how isolated it is, he realized, hope sparking in his chest.
Exactly the sort of location serial killers like John Watkins and Martin Whitly preferred.
The nearest town wouldn't be for miles, no chance of anyone disturbing them as they tortured their victims, and no likelihood of the bodies ever being found because of how remote the location was.
"Do we have a location?"
"Swanson is running it down now."
Gil handed him the picture back.
"She gets a location, I want you and Powell tagging along. Just in case Bright is there."
"What about fem-Bright?" Indicating Sorcha with a nod. "You want us to take her with us in case we find his scrawny ass?"
Gil had been debating that himself the last half-hour. In the end, he decided keeping Swanson and Sorcha as far away from each other as possible was the best solution all around.
"I'm taking Sorcha with me."
"You sure? I mean, she speaks Bright better than all of us. Could be useful having her there if we find him. Especially if..."
JT didn't finish that statement. He had no need. None of them knew what condition the kid would be in once they found him. How lucid he'd be. Sorcha possessed the necessary skills for dealing with someone in that condition. It made sense to have her along.
"I want her with me when I go talk to Martin Whitly."
A conversation he was certain would be far from pleasant.
For him, anyway.
"You're gonna let her near Bright's serial killer father?" One of JT's brows quirked. "You sure that's a good idea?"
"I'm not letting her near Dr. Whitly." Mostly because he didn't trust Sorcha not to attack the man. Something Gil often debated but never did because of the pain it'd cause Bright. "She can listen to the conversation and tell me what, if anything, he says is the actual truth."
"She's got a pretty accurate bullshit detector."
Gil's lips inched into a small smile. "That she does."
"She's also got her dial-a-Bright set to the right channel."
"With the volume turned down low."
JT grunted. "If only she could teach Bright how to do that."
Gil chuckled softly. "She likes him as he is."
"Yeah." JT headed towards the conference room. "That's why we gotta find Captain Dangerous."
Gil resumed his vigil, silently hoping Martin Whitly would willingly give him the answers he needed to find Bright, but vowing to make him pay if he didn't.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!
I just want to send a special thank you to Rookblonkorules and my guests for their lovely reviews!