Human Connections

AvalonReeseFanFics

A/N: Well, my wonderful readers. I'm sorry! I've got no excuse. I wish is did, but I don't. I've been having a really had time pushing chapters out. My motivation and writer's block is all over the place. I'd like to say that this chapter will come out soon, but it might not be until the new year. This chapter does leave you guys on a bit of a cliffhanger so I promise to try and get the next chapter out as quick as I can. As always I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to leave a review and I'll see you guys as soon as I can.

Chapter 12

Just like Spencer said she would, Garcia had all the information they needed about Ryanne's mouth breather by the time they got back to HQ.

His name was James Decon. He owned several cottages out in the Hamptons that he rented out. Or he did. Now he only had one rental property left, he had up and sold all the others over the last two years, for no real reason that Garcia could figure out.

On paper he looked normal. Got to his arrest record and there was a lot of trespassing and restraining orders and stalking and harassment and… clearly this guy was a repeat offender.

He got obsessed quick and then followed ladies around.

Yeah, he was a real winner.

His phone was off but the last transmission had been on the outskirts of the Hamptons. One would think that he hadn't left, but Garcia had him paying a toll on a bridge that put him an hour away from Ryanne's hotel the day she went missing.

Spencer was certain that this guy was it. Their guy. If Ryanne really was missing, and he was thinking she was, this guy had her.

Morgan was not so sure though.

"But… how did he even meet her? How did he get obsessed?"

"Ryanne's a famous author," Spencer said.

"Yeah, who publishes under a different name," Morgan said. "I unno, it seems weirdly niche, especially since this guy doesn't go for famous people, he stalks ex-girlfriends and failed blind dates."

That too was true.

"Garcia can you tell when these calls started?"

"No need," Emily said. "They stated way before she was actually popular. In fact, her publicist said it was the first sign that she was getting popular."

That early?

"You know… uh… maybe I should have said this earlier, but uhm… yeah about two or three months before she stared getting the breather calls, she uhm… she rented a cottage in the Hamptons."

Spencer and Morgan turned to her.

"She rented a cottage in the Hamptons?"

"Yeah, uhm… she went to uh… bang out the next book in her series. Her uhm… she had started getting popular, her debut book was getting noticed and her mother was giving her issues. I uhm…she took like a week or two off, no service, no internet, just her, nature and writing."

"Yeah, you probably should have mentioned that, Em," Morgan growled and she winced.

"Oh, there's more. I uh… well she mentioned that when she was up there she got um, a little drunk and she made out with the guy who was renting her the cottage."

Right, so… a drunken night together and all of sudden she was getting mouth breather calls.

"Why are you only telling us this now?" Spencer cried.

"Well, uh… until you said he was from the Hamptons I had completely forgot about him. I mean… I think even Ryanne forgot about him."

Spencer and Morgan exchanged glances. Seriously both girls had forgotten about this guy?

Jesus.

"The Hamptons are about four hours if not more," Spencer said heading for the door. "Garcia is going to narrow it down but we have to get moving."

Morgan nodded, then before Emily could say anything, he grabbed a hold of her wrist and tugged her along with him. All three rushing towards the elevator so they could drive off to the rescue.

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Ryanne was actually pretty proud of herself.

She had not crumbled under the pressure, in fact, she had thrived under it.

Her therapist would say it was because she had born and bred in this sort of hostile pressure, but she didn't have time to worry about that right now.

She had played it off, once she realized how crazy he was. She played along with him, but instead of getting a simpering crying girlfriend, he got a seething angry one.

This, this, was what he had lined up for their anniversary? No dinner? No flowers? Tying her to a chair? This was what he called romantic?

She had haughtily demanded something better, and he had agreed, they did deserve better.

So he locked her in the room she had stayed in the first time she had rented he little cottage but he had made some changes.

It still had the on-suite washroom, thank the lord, but the door had dead-bolts that could only be opened from the other side and the windows had bars.

Great, so she couldn't get out and it totally ruined what could have been a wonderful view of the forest.

That first night she hadn't slept, she had stayed awake, back to the wall, eyes on the door. You know just in case he tried to sneak in.

He didn't.

But she didn't want to chance it.

In the morning he had breakfast. She ate is, grimaced, told him it was garbage. Even though pancakes and bacon were her ultimate favourite breakfast food and it was delicious.

She told him she didn't want to see him until the evening, that he had better use that time to wow her.

And oh boy, he had pulled out all the stops.

Candle light dinner. Home made spaghetti. Champagne for later, wine for dinner. Roses as the center piece.

Any normal situation, if a boy had done this for her, she would have been ecstatic. But she needed to buy herself time, because if he thought dinner went well he want to do… other things.

And she was pretty sure the only thing that was keeping him off of her was the fact that she was being bitchy and he thought he'd get rewarded like a real boyfriend if he pulled this off.

So she trashed the dinner.

Like she pulled a page out of her family's playbook and threw it all on the ground.

She swiped the beautiful china dishes off the table, smashing them. She threw the spaghetti at the him and when that missed, she picked up the vase and whipped that one.

She shouted and screamed about how shit this was, and how she deserved filet mignon, and the best wine, and only a dozen roses? She was worth two dozen at the very least.

She shouted that if he really wanted to be her boyfriend, then why didn't he try? Why didn't he treat her better?

She knew better than to make a break for the door, so she stormed back into her room, and told him he better fix things tomorrow, or he wouldn't get laid at all this weekend.

She had been too tired, to stressed, to actually keep herself awake that night. And when she fell asleep, he snuck in, just like she thought he would.

She wasn't sure what his whole plan was, because she woke up when he tried to lift her up and put her in the bed.

She had pushed him away, pushed him out the door, and then shut it again, saying he didn't deserve to sleep with her. Not even a little cuddle.

But he'd have one chance, one last one, tomorrow, and if he showed her that he was willing to be better was worthy of her, she'd reward him with the best sex of his life.

She had hoped that that would work, that it would lower his guard but he locked the door after himself and she didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

She knew that this would be her last chance. She had to get out of here, and she knew how she'd do it.

Buddy up to him while they ate dinner, then stab the asshole where it hurt the most. She was fantasizing of stabbing him in his stupid face, but she'd settle for a leg or somewhere in the stomach to keep him from following her.

Dinner that evening was everything she had asked for.

Fillet mignon. Two dozen roses. More candles. Better wine, more china.

And he this time he tied her up.

So how was she supposed to eat?

He went about cutting upper her food for her and she realized that he meant to feed it to her. Yeah, that wasn't romantic. Not tied up like this, with someone she barely remembered let alone wanted to be with.

Derek Morgan might have been able to make something like this sexy, but if she didn't get out of here she wouldn't ever be able to see him again.

Or Emily, or the Middletons, or Spencer.

Her series wasn't finished either and she didn't have a will which means her mom and step-family could sue to get everything from her estate instead of it going to Emily or the Middletons like she wanted. And they'd probably win too.

She couldn't let that happen. She just couldn't.

"Uhm, not that this isn't very romantic, it is, but do you think you could untie me?" she asked as sweetly as she could.

He looked up to her, distrust shining in his eyes. He looked down to everything he had prepared and she figured he was worried she'd smash it up again.

"I'm sorry about my tantrum last night, I shouldn't have thrown everything at you, especially since you worked really hard…"

"It's alright, I know what you artist types are like. Temperamental."

What a load of bullshit. He didn't know her at all. She was the least temperamental person ever.

Ryanne nodded. "Thank you for understanding me," she said through grit teeth, then she flashed him her prettiest smile. "I promise I won't throw a tantrum this time, everything is perfect. I'd love to be able to feed myself. That way you can enjoy the food too and I unno, maybe we can hold hands a bit?"

She had always thought she was a terrible liar, Emily and her parents, and even Ryanne's parents had always been able to see through her. But this guy didn't.

In fact he seemed to get really excited at the prospect of holding her hand.

So he put the steak knife he had been using to cut her filet with down.

Ryanne eyed that knife, the vehicle to her freedom, as he untied her. He had no trouble at all loosening them. And when she was free, she grabbed him.

With one hand she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his face close to hers. "Thank you, why don't you take a little bit of a reward right now?"

She didn't have to ask twice, he slid his lips over hers and she tried not to instinctively bite him. She let him kiss her, let him think that this was an enjoyable thing for her, while she soundlessly groped for that knife.

He pulled away, this smug look of happiness on his face. "I knew you'd come around. Just had to remind you…"

And then he cut out. Not surprising, she had just stabbed him in the stomach.

He backed away from her, looking down at the knife that was hilt deep in his stomach.

Ryanne stood quickly. "I think it's time we broke up," she snapped and then quickly ran for the door.

She was part way through unlocking the front door when he collided with her. She yelped in surprise. She hadn't been expecting it.

How was he still moving? She had stabbed him in the stomach, he should have been down for the count.

"You bitch! I LOVED YOU!" he screamed at her.

His hands were covered in blood, the knife in his hand was covered in blood. Why… had he pulled it out? Jesus she should have stabbed him in the throat.

He went to stab her, and she blocked him, using all her might to stop him. That worked for all of two minutes, until his spare hand grabbed her throat.

That would be where everything went downhill.

Once he was choking her, her grip faltered, and when he managed to shake her grip, he managed to stab her.

In the stomach, right where she had stabbed him.

They say that when you lose yourself, whether it be in pain or something else, everything goes black. But when that knife slid into Ryanne, the world didn't go black with the pain. It went red.

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Part way through the drive Spencer became aware that Emily had an old school polaroid camera in her lap. Her fingers kept caressing the edges of it as she stared out the window.

When Spencer asked what it was for, she simply said: "It's for when I find her."

Spencer wasn't sure what that meant, but he was slightly scared of Emily so he wasn't going to question her.

They were an hour out when they got the address from Garcia.

It was the cottage that she had originally stayed in. It was the only rental property he had left and he had made a lot of changes to it. Bars on the windows, a better security system, stronger locks.

That did not bode well. He had made these changes over the last two years, which meant he had been planning on grabbing her for a while.

They were figuring that this nut case was delusional. The fact that he wanted to keep her could mean many things, but with the breathing calls they assumed in his mind they were together. The act of taking her was to feed into that fantasy, if she acted against it he'd hurt her.

And Spencer knew that there was no way Ryanne would just meekly go along with it. She only did that with her family, she wouldn't do it with this stranger.

But he had had her for two days, there was no telling what done to her in that time.

Garcia confirmed that Decon's car was parked outside the cottage. His neighbours had said this wasn't uncommon for him, he lived in that cottage anyway, and sometimes he rarely left for weeks on end. They had heard a commotion a night ago, but he was often doing last minute renovations and construction in the middle of the night.

Except they knew that he had Ryanne, so if there was a commotion it was probably her. Probably her trying to escape, which hadn't happened, because she would have called one of them right away to come and get her. That meant she had tried to escape and hadn't. That meant he had hurt her.

That meant Spencer might just shoot him where he stood, if Emily didn't get to him first.

When they got to the house, Morgan parked at the far end of the driveway, lights off long before they turned in. The house was sitting silently in the dark before them, all lights on.

Emily went for the door, only to have Morgan stop her.

"You stay here, Spencer and I will…"

"Like hell!" she snapped, wrenching her arm out of Morgan's grasp. She got out of the car before any of them could stop her and practically sprinted her way to that door.

Now Spencer would have assumed that she would frantically wail on that door and demand that Decon opened it.

That was not what Emily did.

Emily stopped at the door, put her ear to it and listened, and when she didn't hear what she was looking for, she looked the door up and down and then slammed her narrow shoulder into it.

Now Spencer wasn't certain that Emily had the strength in her to get a door open, but two hits with her shoulder and she was in, shoving something aside and the slipping on something else.

That wasn't good.

By the time Morgan and Spencer got to the door they could see what it was that Emily had slipped on.

There was a pool of blood in front of the front door.

And a body to go with it.

James Decon was just lying there, practically swiss cheese he was so full of holes. A knife was left beside him, it too covered in blood. The murder weapon.

But there was no sign of Ryanne.

There were signs of a romantic candle light dinner, so that proved what his delusions really were. There were signs that someone had been tied up, so that meant that whoever this candle light dinner was for, which was obviously Ryanne, they had not been a willing participant.

There were signs of a struggle, but no signs of Ryanne.

You know, except for the blood trail.

So she was hurt but she wasn't here.

"So… maybe she went to get help?" Morgan asked when they had relayed all of their thoughts to one another.

Emily shook her head. "Nope, not her style. She's got survivors guilt from her mom telling her that her existence wasn't wanted. She wouldn't go get help. She'd pick somewhere pretty to die."

See, now that was stupid. Absolutely stupid, but Spencer had to concur. When Ryanne got into one of her moods, funks similar to what Diana went through, she said some pretty dark things.

"So what does…"

Morgan was going to ask Emily if she knew what Ryanne thought would be a pretty place to die. That was a stupid question though, because if anyone would know it was her.

So when she said: "Water," almost absently while facing the door that led to the back yard, she wasn't surprised. "She'd pick something with water."

"Well we're not that close to the ocean…"

"No but there's a lake near-by, she used to walk to it."

Then she pulled that sliding door open and walked out onto the back porch.

Geeze, this whole rescue was just the two boys trailing after Emily who still had that camera in her hands. It was like her anchor. It was keeping her calm.

They walked and walked, following Emily. Morgan offered twice to split up but Emily shook her head, she was following some thing, some best friend's intuition.

And it steered them the right way because the forest opened up to this little beach, the edge of the lake but no sign of Ryanne.

Emily turned back and forth her eyes looking for something and then she pointed off to the distance. There, in the moonlight, they could make out the visage of a single person standing on a dock.

"There, that's her."

Beside him Morgan scoffed, like he didn't believe her, but Spencer knew she was right.

And she was.

They all practically sprinted to that dock, Morgan getting there first but he came to a stop just short of her, giving Spencer and Emily the chance to catch up.

And to see what had startled him to a stop.

Ryanne turned, the moonlight hitting her in the way that made her glow in this otherworldly way. But it was the red beading off of her, dripping from her in a rhythmic sort of way, pooling around her feet and slipping away into the cracks of the dock and to the water below from her that had Spencer worried, that was what had startled Morgan.

For a while she just stared, but when she recognized them, she smiled. This weary, smile of relief and beside him Emily's camera went off.

And like that broke the otherworldly spell that had descended on them, Ryanne's eyes rolled back in her head and collapsed. Sending all three in a dizzying sprinting race to catch her before she sunk or drifted away.