The door clicked shut behind Alice, and Brady closed his eyes. It didn't take her long to give up on him, he noted. Just as well, no sense in her wasting time. He ate the meal the nurse brought, and he couldn't tell what meal it was. They were clearly trying to help him gain weight. Whatever, food was food. He got up, wincing at the pull of muscles that hadn't moved in too long. In truth, he hadn't moved much since he'd arrived here. There wasn't much to see in this room, so he went to the window to see where he was. Was he even still in Clearwater? He didn't recognize the view, but he could see the glint of the ocean in the distance, so they couldn't have taken him too far from home. Maybe if he hurried, he could find his way home, and things wouldn't be too terrible. He slid down the wall next to the window, the blanket falling to the floor around him. He would not cry. He was determined not to cry. He dug his nails into his arm, knowing that he was drawing blood. He dragged his nails from his elbow to his wrist, fighting to keep himself together. The sting hurt, but he didn't care. The knowledge of what would happen when this was all over hurt more, and this was the only way he knew to let go of the iron grip he had on his emotions. He sucked in one breath, and then another, fighting not to let his crushing emotions loose.

There was nothing out there for him. Nothing but what he already knew: people would suck him dry and throw away his corpse with the rest of the trash, and then move on to whoever was next. He hadn't realized how much he'd been clinging to the hope that someday someone would come rescue him. He was aware that someone was there, but he didn't have the energy to fight anymore. If they wanted to hurt him so badly, let them. It was a relief when darkness took him.

He was vaguely aware that time was passing; the faint stream of music, tasteless meals spoon fed to him as if he was a baby, people talking to him, waiting for a response that he didn't know how to give. Why didn't they just do what they wanted and then send him back to where they found him?

The police banged on the door of the house and shouted "Open up, we have a warrant!" There was no answer, so one of the officers kicked in the door. "This is the police! If there's anyone here, make yourself known!" They went through each room in the house, but it was deserted. At the room at the end of the hallway, Nathan found a crumpled, dirty blanket, a backpack with the name Zachary Lee printed on it in a child's handwriting, and a stack of books and papers. Drawing after drawing of the same yellow house, drawn in crayon by a child, were scattered across the floor, as if a neat stack had been kicked over.

"This was his room," he said quietly, looking around. The room was small, more like a closet, and there wasn't really enough space for a person. The only source of light was a small, barred window, high on the wall. An adjoining bathroom was to their left. The whole room reflected the hopelessness in Brady's eyes. He picked up the blanket and something tumbled out of it. It was an old brown toy cat. The nose had originally been fuzzy, but the fuzz had long since worn off. The fur was soft, but it was old and worn. Nathan picked up the blanket, folded it, and put it in an evidence bag; they would come back for the books when they were done.

"What about the cat?" Nathan jumped as Andy, another detective on this case, spoke up behind him.

"It belongs to Brady. He should have it back."

Andy nodded. They moved on to the rest of the house. It was dirty and there was trash everywhere. In the master bedroom, there was a mattress with some blankets on it but no sheets, and some crumpled clothes and beer cans scattered on the floor. There wasn't much else there, so they moved on. They went to the kitchen where dirty dishes sat in the sink. The cabinets were almost empty except for a couple bags of chips, some peanut butter, and a bread bag with a couple slices left. The refrigerator only held an almost empty jug of spoiled milk.

They moved on to the living room. There was a lumpy couch, a cabinet with a small movie collection, an old television and a coffee table with empty Chinese food containers on it, and more beer cans and trash laying around. Behind the couch, there was a door leading down to a basement. Andy and Nathan followed two police officers down the stairs, leaving the other two to box up the evidence and take photographs. Andy flipped on the light as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and they looked around. This was what they were looking for. There was a shelf built into the wall with DVDs labeled by date. Under the shelf, there was a desk with a laptop sitting on it. In the desk drawers, there were bags of cocaine and lists of names and contact information. There was a camera on a tripod pointed at a mattress and some pillows and blankets at the other end of the basement. Nathan went to the camera, turned it on and went through the pictures. Picture after picture of Brady, just as he'd expected. Some with various adults, some of him with other boys, and some of just him. Andy put a hand on Nathan's shoulder and Nathan relaxed, not realizing that he'd been clenching his jaw.

"Let's finish this and go," Andy said, and headed back upstairs for evidence boxes.

When they got back to the police station, they carried the boxes of evidence into the forensics lab. Their forensic scientist, Eric, pointed at the table where the rest of the evidence was waiting. He was going through pictures of children on a computer, and he didn't look at them. Nathan came up behind him.

"What's this?"

"Child porn from some of the websites we've been monitoring. I've been able to ID Brady in some of them, but he's in pictures with some of the others, and I'm hoping he can help ID who and where they are. Go talk to him, see if he can give you any answers." Eric said. He put the forensic picture in a manila folder and handed it to Nathan.

Carlisle sat in his office reading through files. After Alice's initial assessment five days go, when the nurse went in during her rounds, she'd found Brady in the middle of a full blown panic attack. She called in back up and they tried to calm him down, but the more they'd done, the more panicked Brady had become. They'd had to sedate him so at least he wouldn't hurt himself more. Now, he was almost completely unresponsive, as if any fight that had been in him was gone. He just sat in the bed, staring blankly at the wall across from him. If only they could find some way to reach him. A knock on his door pulled Carlisle out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Nathan and Andy in the doorway.

"Can I help you, officers?" He asked, gesturing toward the chairs on the other side of the desk. They sat down and Nathan put a file on the desk.

"We're here about Brady. Pictures of him with some other kids are featured on some websites we're monitoring, and we need him to help us find the other kids. Anything he can tell us would help," Nathan said, sliding a picture over to Carlisle. Carlisle took the picture and scanned it.

"I want to help, but I'm not sure if right now is the best time," he said reluctantly.

"We have to try," Nathan pressed. "I don't want to push him more than we have to either, but it could potentially mean the lives of at least two more kids, and maybe more. The longer we wait, the higher the risk to these kids." Carlisle had to agree with that, and he led the way to Brady's room. He was sitting up, leaning against the wall behind him and looking toward the window.

"Son, these police officers want to talk to you, okay?" Carlisle asked. There was no response, and after a minute, Nathan came up to the bed. Brady closed his eyes, but otherwise, didn't react.

"Hey buddy, we found something that belongs to you, and we thought you would want it back." Brady's eyes flew open, and it was the first reaction he'd given in over a week. Nathan held out the cat, and Brady stared at it without moving, and then finally he looked at Nathan, and then beyond him to Andy.

"You saw everything," he said. His voice was monotone, dead. They nodded, and Nathan offered him the cat again, but he shook his head. "I don't… I don't want it..." He fought to keep his voice steady. "It was a prop. It has a camera inside it. They're always watching." Andy took the cat, and opened the back. And just like Brady said, a tiny camera set in one of the cat's eyes sat nestled in the fluff. Brady watched with little reaction.

"Listen," Nathan said, bring Brady back to the conversation. "We're here for your help. You're the only one we can ask, and it's important." Brady's eyes flicked to him. "Do you know any of the other kids that were in a similar situation to yours? Kids you were photographed with?" Brady closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, looking sick. After a long moment, he nodded and opened his eyes.

"I know about four. Sam and Jared and Embry and Jacob," he said. Sudden urgency in his voice took them all by surprise. "But if you don't hurry, they might be gone. They would not hesitate to kill them."

"Where?" Nathan asked.

"I don't know the address," Brady said.

"Could you find it? On a map?" Andy asked, already pulling out his phone.

"I think so," Brady said, reaching for it. He examined the map on the phone, centering it on his own house, and then dragging it as if he were driving a virtual car. He paused, and then tapped on the street view. And then he bit his lip hard, and zoomed closer to one particular house. "This one. The basement. That's where they took the pictures. Sam said that's where they live. You have to go. You have to get them out."