"But hark! My pulse, like a soft drum,
Beats my approach, tells thee I come."
Henry King, "The Exequy"
***
Horatio would always remember that night as one of the longest of his life. After he found the handkerchief, he stood there for a minute, surveying the scene. His soul cringed from the reality, like Mr. Stevens had earlier that day, but his mind automatically clicked into action, like a train running on its established rails. After his initial survey, he borrowed a flashlight from the policeman at the desk. He called Sanders, then went back out to the scene, processing it slowly, carefully, like any day on the job at CSI. There were no signs of a scuffle, no drag marks. She had been lured there somehow, away from the main crowd, and knowing Calleigh, the bait must have been very good. She wouldn't have been fooled easily. His assessment of these people rose a fraction. People, plural. This crime confirmed his feeling all along that more than one person was involved. One alone could have snatched Rosalind, but someone had lured Calleigh in, and someone else had been pressed against the back of the stand, waiting with the chloroform, to seize her from behind. The drug had quickly overcome any resistance. But it had to be a second person who drugged her. Calleigh would never turn her back on the first one, and face-to-face, she would have seen it coming. There would have at least been a struggle.
He ran the flashlight over the entire area, then paused alertly and stooped beside the wall. There was a cigarette, half-smoked, tossed away in a hurry. Dropped by the criminal? Horatio carefully put it in one of the envelopes he had picked up at the reception desk. If this was from one of the criminals, he now had a DNA sample. He also had a little better idea of the perps. At least one of them was cool, capable of coming up with a plan to lure Calleigh, formidable even if not professional. But at least one of the others was nervous enough that he had smoked a cigarette almost up to the moment of kidnapping. It would take a serious addiction, or a serious case of nerves, to pull out a cigarette then.
Footsteps echoed on the pavement behind him, and he stood up as Sanders came around the corner. "Horatio, I'm so sorry. . . " he started, then stopped, eying his companion.
"She was taken from here," said Horatio, in a tight voice that gave the impression he was about two seconds away from losing it. His movements were perfectly graceful, though, his expressive hands smoothly outlining the scene as he described it. "They lured her back here somehow, and it had to be pretty good bait. At least two people involved. The first one was the leader. The second one waited right here and grabbed her from behind. He had chloroform on this handkerchief, and she was overcome before she could fight. Same as Rosalind. He was much more nervous, and he smoked a cigarette while he was waiting - smoked it while holding a handkerchief full of chloroform! - and tossed it aside when he heard them coming. The cigarette butt is here. When we get a suspect in custody, we have a DNA link."
"I've alerted the desk to watch out for messages for you, too," Sanders offered tentatively.
"No need," said Horatio. "The message to me doesn't need taping. It's already been received."
"Back off, you mean?"
"Exactly." He might have been discussing any case on the job, but that note of strain was still behind his voice. "The interesting thing is, how did they know I was on the case? We've done our best to keep a low profile today. We haven't talked to that many people, and we used a cover story to the ones we did. Somewhere, in that group of people we did talk to, is a link to the criminals."
"If not one of the criminals themselves," said Sanders.
"I doubt it. I don't think I talked to one of them directly. But I want a list of everyone you talked to today. Also, could you let me have a gun?"
Sanders shook his head. "Sorry, department rules would never bend that far." It was the truth, and Horatio accepted it, but Sanders was glad of the excuse. Somehow, he would not feel at all comfortable giving this man a gun right now. "One thing," he offered tentatively. "Stevens might have mentioned it to someone. He wouldn't be thinking straight right now. It could have slipped out."
Horatio tilted his head slightly. "Nice work. There's an idea we'll have to follow up on." Sanders felt himself expand a bit under the genuine praise. It suddenly occurred to him that Horatio's subordinates probably loved him. He would make a difficult boss, but the rewards would be there. "I can see Stevens slipping up more than I can see either of us talking to the kidnappers and missing it," Horatio continued. "Let's go see him again." He handed Sanders the two envelopes holding the cigarette butt and the handkerchief, then started off with such smooth speed that Sanders had to half-run to catch up to him.
***
Horatio honestly felt like committing murder. Inefficiency and confusion always drove him crazy, and Stevens as a witness was getting perilously close to Horatio's last nerve. Only the unwilling sympathy for this man and what he was going through held him in check. None of this showed in his voice, but it did in his eyes, and Sanders saw it.
"Once again," Horatio said with forced gentleness. "Start at the beginning of the day and try to remember it. Did you talk to anyone about me helping look for Rosalind?"
"I don't know." Stevens had no fingernails left to chew after the last few days. He knotted his fingers nervously instead and stared at them. "I'm sorry, I just don't remember."
Horatio broke it down a step further. "Okay, Sanders told you this morning that I would help. What time was that?" He faced Sanders with relief, looking for a straight answer to at least one question.
"8:30," said Sanders promptly.
"Thank you. Did you eat breakfast this morning, Mr. Stevens? If so, was that before or after Sanders talked to you?"
"Um, yes, I did. It was after. He told me I needed to eat, keep up my strength." Sanders nodded in confirmation.
"Did you go down to the restaurant?"
"No, I ordered room service."
"The waiter who brought the cart, did you mention it to him?"
Stevens' mind suddenly started functioning. "Yes, actually. I did. He asked me how things were going, if there was any word from the kidnappers."
Horatio and Sanders both snapped to attention. "He asked you? He brought it up? And mentioned kidnappers?"
"Yes." The two officers locked eyes. How did a room service worker in a hotel know about a kidnapping that hadn't been publicized? Everyone the two of them had questioned had just been told the child was lost.
"Describe him." The tone was too sharp, the eyes too urgent, and Stevens went into frightened mental retreat again. Horatio wrenched himself away, nodded to Sanders, and walked across the room to the window. Behind him, Sanders in low, gentle tones started coaxing a description out of Stevens. In front of him, the scene was black, late night now, still some artificial lights, a few people heading for the falls, but mostly a world of shadows. Somewhere out there in it was Calleigh.
***
Calleigh Caine (how she loved thinking of herself that way, even when her head was splitting and her mouth felt full of cotton!) rolled over and sat up. She was in the floor of a small room, where she had been dumped in the corner like a sack of potatoes. There were no windows. The place really didn't look like a dungeon, though. There was furniture, and a rug was in the middle of the wooden floor. There was also a small iron frame bed, and a small figure lay under the blanket. Calleigh rocketed to her feet, ignoring her headache now. "Rosalind!" She gripped the girl's shoulder, shaking her gently. "Rosalind!"
Two sleepy eyes opened and slowly focused. "Calleigh!" The girl sat up and wrapped both arms around Calleigh's neck, hugging her. Calleigh sat down on the bed and hugged her back. "You found me," Rosalind mumbled into her chest.
"Not exactly." Calleigh was thoroughly disgusted with herself, now that she thought about it. She had been standing near the hotel entrance, waiting for Horatio, when a couple came up to her and had asked her if she knew the way to a certain street nearby. She walked along after them to point out the first turn, which was a tricky one that they couldn't quite seem to get a picture of, and right after they had passed the corner of a closed drink stand, arms of steel had grabbed her and a handkerchief had been forced under her nose. She was still trying to command her muscles to resist when she collapsed. You idiot, she thought. Just because it was a couple doesn't make them honest. Horatio -said- there was more than one person involved.
"You mean they got you, too?" Rosalind unwound herself from around Calleigh's shoulders.
"Yep, me too." They both settled back, sitting side by side on the bed, leaning against the wall. "I assume that door is locked?"
"Yes." Rosalind eyed her. "Horatio will find us, won't he?"
"Yes, he will." Her absolute conviction reassured the girl. "Rosalind, how many people have you seen? There have to be at least three of them."
"I've seen three. One of them is a woman. I don't like her much. She's always talking about money, and she and one of the men argue about how to spend it. He even hit her once." She shivered.
"Did any of them hurt you?"
"No. The angry man doesn't want me hurt. He says I'm worth too much."
"What about the third man?"
"He's nervous. Always smoking cigarettes and talking about what if they get caught." Rosalind considered with all the wisdom of 10. "I don't like any of them, but the angry man scares me." Calleigh put an arm around her and pulled her over against her. "They haven't treated me badly, though. And they let me keep my cube, even." She pulled the Rubic's Cube out of her pocket. The sides were all scrambled again. Rosalind shifted a few rows absentmindedly, then looked up at Calleigh. "Horatio couldn't explain how he worked this puzzle, could he? Not like the one in the plane."
Calleigh smiled, thinking of him. "No, Rosalind, he couldn't. He sees how things fit together just by looking at them. He really has trouble explaining it. It's just how he is." She tightened her grip on Rosalind's shoulder. "But I promise, Rosalind, he's just as good with puzzles that matter. He will solve this case, and he will find us."
Rosalind smiled. "I know. I've been telling myself, sitting here, when I wondered if Daddy would really be able to get me back. I said if he doesn't, Horatio will." She hugged Calleigh again. "Horatio's really nice, isn't he?"
Nice. Of all the words Calleigh had thought of to describe Horatio, nice had never been one of them. Compassionate, brilliant, dazzling, dedicated, fierce, loving, honest, protective, sensitive. But yes, in addition to all that, in addition to the electricity that ran out from him to light her soul, illuminating her inwardly and yet slightly frightening her with its intensity, on top of all else, he was nice. "Yes," she said. "He is nice."
"I hope I meet somebody nice some day," said Rosalind wistfully.
"I do, too," said Calleigh sincerely. "But I'm afraid Horatio is one of a kind." She was suddenly consumed with anxiety for him. 5:00 AM, she thought, looking at her watch. I wonder if he ever got any sleep tonight. And if he did, no one will be there to hold him through the dreams.
***
Horatio was not asleep. He sat in the armchair in the honeymoon suite. Sanders had finally convinced him to go get a few hours rest, but lying down in that bed alone was unthinkable. They really could do nothing until the hotel manager arrived at 7:00. Then, with the description they had, they could attach a name to the waiter and catch him unexpectedly, as he arrived at work. This worker was the link to the kidnappers, the information source probably for both Rosalind's capture as well as Calleigh's. And Horatio would drag it out of him physically if he had to.
Now, though, he wasn't thinking of the crime as much as he was just thinking of her. He remembered the first time he had ever seen her in Louisiana, where he had gone to try to talk her into coming to Miami. He remembered the way she had dropped everything on her plate to do him a favor on the Sandoval case. The way she had marched toward him after the sniper had been captured, absolutely stunning in black, her eyes meeting his directly, warming in his praise. The way she had of tossing her hair back unconsciously. The way she stood on the firing range, all smooth competence, safety gear in place, utterly precise and deadly, gunning down the criminals with their own weapons. Most of all, the way that she had been there for him the last several months, his delicious discovery that he could lean on her, that her slight frame could support both of them. The utter release of not having to be in charge, of being together, equal partners. Loneliness had been the theme of his life until she came in, such loneliness that, looking back, it appalled him. Calleigh, he thought, how did I ever live without you? Moonlight flooded the room and illuminated the far wall, and he sat there in the armchair, watching mental pictures of her projected against it. When he finally did drop off to sleep, it was her face in the moonlight he dreamed of, her voice last night, calling him back from the edge of the abyss. Even without her presence, her voice held the nightmares away.
***
Calleigh and Rosalind scrambled off the bed and pressed up against the locked door listening as voices rose in the house.
"I'm telling you, they don't suspect a thing." This voice was cocky, one she hadn't heard before.
"And I'm telling you, you're pushing it on this job. Volunteering to take room service up to his room every time. Someone's going to notice." That was the one Rosalind had called the angry man, the one Calleigh recognized as one of the couple who had lured her.
"I did bring you the goods yesterday. About that cop from Miami." The cocky one was the hotel link, she realized. Horatio had thought there was a connection to the hotel, possibly with the criminals staying there, but at least some channel of communication.
"Two people now! $50,000 isn't enough, I tell you. And I still don't think it should be split four ways. Pete doesn't deserve a fourth." That was the woman, with such spite in her tone that Calleigh hardly recognized her voice from the night before.
"I grabbed the woman last night," Pete protested.
"Shut up!" That was the angry man, and silence fell for at least a few seconds. He was definitely the leader. "Bob, I'll go down to the hotel myself this morning when you go in, see how things look."
The voices died away to a low, discontented grumble. Calleigh straightened up and looked around her prison again. A nice but small room, with a small bathroom off it. Where was this house? The door rattled suddenly, the lock turning, and she steeled her muscles in case opportunity came. The first thing to come through the door, though, was the point of a gun. It was an ugly looking shotgun, a 20 gauge. "Back off, now." The angry man came in as she backed away. Rosalind had already jumped off the bed and pressed herself flat against the wall. Behind him came the woman, carrying a tray which she set on the floor next to the bed. "Feeding time at the zoo," he sneered. "Have a nice nap?"
"You're going to regret this," Calleigh insisted.
"I doubt it. Money buys a lot of comfort."
"But we should each get a third, Steve," said the woman.
"Shut up!" Calleigh tensed up, but his eyes never left her for the other woman. There was no opportunity to jump him. "Well, now, maybe your husband will keep out of other people's business. He's got a few things of his own to think about. And we'll make him wait a while for the ransom on you, too. Let him sweat."
Calleigh stared at him. "You think that you taking me will make Horatio back off?" Horatio, who would go on crusades daily for people he had never met before. Steve thought making it personal would back him off. She almost laughed out loud. "You have no idea what you've unleashed. He'll track you clear to hell if he has to." Steve studied her, weighing her sincerity against his own arrogance. This man is dangerous, she realized. He can think. Of the four of them, he was the real threat.
"I'll check up on him at the hotel, see how he's taking it. We'll see." The woman exited behind him, and he backed away himself, not turning around. The gun was the last thing out the door, and the locks turned again.
***
Horatio stood on the balcony overlooking the lobby, several doors down the hall from the door labeled Manager's Office, half-hidden by a large potted plant so that he could not be seen by anyone approaching along the hall. Sanders was next to him. The minute the waiter arrived at work, he would be escorted to the manager's office by security and a plainclothesman. They were just waiting. Horatio toyed with the package in his hands, newly arrived that morning, the laser binoculars from Miami. He probably wouldn't need them now. This lead was much hotter. The waiter was known to have a sister who lived in Niagara Falls, although the address wasn't listed. If a woman was involved, she could have lured Calleigh. The minute they got the address, Horatio wanted to search that house. He was as taut as a bird dog on point, seeing the end of the chase. Sanders, next to him, watched him unobtrusively and almost pitied the criminals of Miami. The elevator down the hall opened, and there he was, escorted by two guards. They vanished into the hotel manager's office, and Sanders and Horatio both started down the hall, but Horatio stopped so quickly that Sanders actually ran into him. "What is it?" the detective asked, backpedaling. Horatio had turned, looking out across the lobby. People milling around, checking in, checking out, normal morning hotel traffic. No one was paying attention to them. But for a moment, he had felt a sharp sliver of attention, the sense that he was being watched. There was nothing now, though. He swept the lobby with his eyes a few more times, then shrugged and turned back toward the manager's office. "Nothing," he replied.
***
Urgent feet approached the door, and the locks were unbolted before Calleigh and Rosalind had even had time to stand. Steve entered with a businesslike pistol in his hand. "Up, both of you. We're moving."
Pete, standing tentatively in the door behind, said, "Susan went out to buy groceries."
"Forget her." Steve stepped back and indicated the door. "Okay, both of you remember, Pete and I are armed. One scream, one gesture, anything to draw attention, and we'll shoot."
"Where we going, Steve?"
"Across the river. You remember that hunting cabin up there? It's isolated, I know where the key is hidden, and it's not connected to us. We'll be safe there."
"That's 10 miles," Pete protested.
"Nice long walk. Let's get started." His eyes ran up and down Calleigh with an assessing look that suddenly alarmed her. "I mean it, gorgeous. Don't try anything. I will shoot you." She believed him. She started off, one hand comfortingly on Rosalind's shoulder, trying to shake off the chill his eyes had given her. Horatio, she thought, I know you're coming, but please hurry.
***
Rosalind stumbled slightly. The pace was fast for 10-year-old legs, and the ground was getting rougher. They had worked their way off the streets and onto the trails network, heading for the Niagara River. There were few people around. It was still morning. In a few hours, the traffic would pick up. Ahead, Calleigh recognized the swaying bridge, the one that had scared Horatio. Just before it, Rosalind tripped again, though, and fell flat. Steve's hand moved threateningly in his pocket.
"Give her a break. Her shoe's untied." Calleigh picked Rosalind up, giving her a comforting squeeze, then knelt in front of her, working on the shoe.
"Steve, I'm gonna take a leak." Pete started off into the brush, and Calleigh for the first time saw Steve's eyes leave her for a second, following his partner with a look of impatience. Too far away to tackle, and she was totally off balance kneeling on the ground, but a flash of inspiration hit her suddenly. In one smooth motion, she reached into Rosalind's pocket, pulled out the Rubic's Cube, and lightly tossed it sideways off the trail. Steve turned back instantly at the motion, but Calleigh was innocently tying the girl's shoes. She glanced sideways unobtrusively. The cube rested about 10 feet off the trail, buried in early autumn leaves. Horatio would spot it in one second flat, but she doubted any casual hiker would. No adult would be looking that far off the trail, and any kids would be fixed on the bridge ahead. She finished tying the shoes and stood up. Rosalind's eyes met hers, and she managed a half smile. The girl started to turn her head, looking at the cube, and Calleigh caught her head, holding it straight. "It's going to be okay, Rosalind," she said, and she kissed her lightly on the forehead. Pete rejoined them, and the trek continued.
They crossed the swaying bridge and started up the trails on the other side, gradually meeting less and less people, the trails getting less and less traveled. Every time they made a turn, Calleigh dragged her right foot slightly along the edge of the dirt path, making it look like plain fatigue. Rosalind really was getting tireder, though, her pace forcing them to slow down. Calleigh could feel Steve's impatience approaching boiling point. It was now past noon.
"Let's stop for a minute," she said, obeying her own suggestion. "Sit down, Rosalind." She indicated a log by the trail, and the girl gratefully collapsed. Steve started to protest, and Calleigh cut him off. "It won't make it easier if she collapses and we have to carry her. 15 minutes' rest will do wonders." He eyed the girl assessingly, then nodded reluctantly. A thinking criminal, even if an amateur. Far more dangerous than ones who did not think. Horatio, she thought, hurry. He was coming. She could feel him. She twisted her ring on her finger, as if touching his soul along their connection.
"Let me see that." Steve had caught the movement, and his eyes mentally weighed the gold and the diamond.
"No." The tone was absolute refusal. His eyes met hers, and that look that had frightened her earlier was back. The male in him rose to a challenge. He undressed her with his eyes, and she shuddered unwillingly.
"You're right. Let's rest a bit," Steve said. "Pete, watch the girl. And keep your gun ready. Not likely to run into other hikers up this far." Pete took his gun out of his pocket and took up position across the trail from Rosalind. Steve pulled out his own gun and stepped back, putting some distance between them. "First, take off that ring."
"No." Her chin was up, her eyes defiant. He raised his gun, pulling back the hammer.
"He's history. You're mine now."
"Not till hell freezes over," she spat at him. "He's more man than you'll ever be." She knew it wasn't wise to provoke him, but he wasn't getting her ring or her, damn it. She saw the determination in his eyes a half second before he fired.
Henry King, "The Exequy"
***
Horatio would always remember that night as one of the longest of his life. After he found the handkerchief, he stood there for a minute, surveying the scene. His soul cringed from the reality, like Mr. Stevens had earlier that day, but his mind automatically clicked into action, like a train running on its established rails. After his initial survey, he borrowed a flashlight from the policeman at the desk. He called Sanders, then went back out to the scene, processing it slowly, carefully, like any day on the job at CSI. There were no signs of a scuffle, no drag marks. She had been lured there somehow, away from the main crowd, and knowing Calleigh, the bait must have been very good. She wouldn't have been fooled easily. His assessment of these people rose a fraction. People, plural. This crime confirmed his feeling all along that more than one person was involved. One alone could have snatched Rosalind, but someone had lured Calleigh in, and someone else had been pressed against the back of the stand, waiting with the chloroform, to seize her from behind. The drug had quickly overcome any resistance. But it had to be a second person who drugged her. Calleigh would never turn her back on the first one, and face-to-face, she would have seen it coming. There would have at least been a struggle.
He ran the flashlight over the entire area, then paused alertly and stooped beside the wall. There was a cigarette, half-smoked, tossed away in a hurry. Dropped by the criminal? Horatio carefully put it in one of the envelopes he had picked up at the reception desk. If this was from one of the criminals, he now had a DNA sample. He also had a little better idea of the perps. At least one of them was cool, capable of coming up with a plan to lure Calleigh, formidable even if not professional. But at least one of the others was nervous enough that he had smoked a cigarette almost up to the moment of kidnapping. It would take a serious addiction, or a serious case of nerves, to pull out a cigarette then.
Footsteps echoed on the pavement behind him, and he stood up as Sanders came around the corner. "Horatio, I'm so sorry. . . " he started, then stopped, eying his companion.
"She was taken from here," said Horatio, in a tight voice that gave the impression he was about two seconds away from losing it. His movements were perfectly graceful, though, his expressive hands smoothly outlining the scene as he described it. "They lured her back here somehow, and it had to be pretty good bait. At least two people involved. The first one was the leader. The second one waited right here and grabbed her from behind. He had chloroform on this handkerchief, and she was overcome before she could fight. Same as Rosalind. He was much more nervous, and he smoked a cigarette while he was waiting - smoked it while holding a handkerchief full of chloroform! - and tossed it aside when he heard them coming. The cigarette butt is here. When we get a suspect in custody, we have a DNA link."
"I've alerted the desk to watch out for messages for you, too," Sanders offered tentatively.
"No need," said Horatio. "The message to me doesn't need taping. It's already been received."
"Back off, you mean?"
"Exactly." He might have been discussing any case on the job, but that note of strain was still behind his voice. "The interesting thing is, how did they know I was on the case? We've done our best to keep a low profile today. We haven't talked to that many people, and we used a cover story to the ones we did. Somewhere, in that group of people we did talk to, is a link to the criminals."
"If not one of the criminals themselves," said Sanders.
"I doubt it. I don't think I talked to one of them directly. But I want a list of everyone you talked to today. Also, could you let me have a gun?"
Sanders shook his head. "Sorry, department rules would never bend that far." It was the truth, and Horatio accepted it, but Sanders was glad of the excuse. Somehow, he would not feel at all comfortable giving this man a gun right now. "One thing," he offered tentatively. "Stevens might have mentioned it to someone. He wouldn't be thinking straight right now. It could have slipped out."
Horatio tilted his head slightly. "Nice work. There's an idea we'll have to follow up on." Sanders felt himself expand a bit under the genuine praise. It suddenly occurred to him that Horatio's subordinates probably loved him. He would make a difficult boss, but the rewards would be there. "I can see Stevens slipping up more than I can see either of us talking to the kidnappers and missing it," Horatio continued. "Let's go see him again." He handed Sanders the two envelopes holding the cigarette butt and the handkerchief, then started off with such smooth speed that Sanders had to half-run to catch up to him.
***
Horatio honestly felt like committing murder. Inefficiency and confusion always drove him crazy, and Stevens as a witness was getting perilously close to Horatio's last nerve. Only the unwilling sympathy for this man and what he was going through held him in check. None of this showed in his voice, but it did in his eyes, and Sanders saw it.
"Once again," Horatio said with forced gentleness. "Start at the beginning of the day and try to remember it. Did you talk to anyone about me helping look for Rosalind?"
"I don't know." Stevens had no fingernails left to chew after the last few days. He knotted his fingers nervously instead and stared at them. "I'm sorry, I just don't remember."
Horatio broke it down a step further. "Okay, Sanders told you this morning that I would help. What time was that?" He faced Sanders with relief, looking for a straight answer to at least one question.
"8:30," said Sanders promptly.
"Thank you. Did you eat breakfast this morning, Mr. Stevens? If so, was that before or after Sanders talked to you?"
"Um, yes, I did. It was after. He told me I needed to eat, keep up my strength." Sanders nodded in confirmation.
"Did you go down to the restaurant?"
"No, I ordered room service."
"The waiter who brought the cart, did you mention it to him?"
Stevens' mind suddenly started functioning. "Yes, actually. I did. He asked me how things were going, if there was any word from the kidnappers."
Horatio and Sanders both snapped to attention. "He asked you? He brought it up? And mentioned kidnappers?"
"Yes." The two officers locked eyes. How did a room service worker in a hotel know about a kidnapping that hadn't been publicized? Everyone the two of them had questioned had just been told the child was lost.
"Describe him." The tone was too sharp, the eyes too urgent, and Stevens went into frightened mental retreat again. Horatio wrenched himself away, nodded to Sanders, and walked across the room to the window. Behind him, Sanders in low, gentle tones started coaxing a description out of Stevens. In front of him, the scene was black, late night now, still some artificial lights, a few people heading for the falls, but mostly a world of shadows. Somewhere out there in it was Calleigh.
***
Calleigh Caine (how she loved thinking of herself that way, even when her head was splitting and her mouth felt full of cotton!) rolled over and sat up. She was in the floor of a small room, where she had been dumped in the corner like a sack of potatoes. There were no windows. The place really didn't look like a dungeon, though. There was furniture, and a rug was in the middle of the wooden floor. There was also a small iron frame bed, and a small figure lay under the blanket. Calleigh rocketed to her feet, ignoring her headache now. "Rosalind!" She gripped the girl's shoulder, shaking her gently. "Rosalind!"
Two sleepy eyes opened and slowly focused. "Calleigh!" The girl sat up and wrapped both arms around Calleigh's neck, hugging her. Calleigh sat down on the bed and hugged her back. "You found me," Rosalind mumbled into her chest.
"Not exactly." Calleigh was thoroughly disgusted with herself, now that she thought about it. She had been standing near the hotel entrance, waiting for Horatio, when a couple came up to her and had asked her if she knew the way to a certain street nearby. She walked along after them to point out the first turn, which was a tricky one that they couldn't quite seem to get a picture of, and right after they had passed the corner of a closed drink stand, arms of steel had grabbed her and a handkerchief had been forced under her nose. She was still trying to command her muscles to resist when she collapsed. You idiot, she thought. Just because it was a couple doesn't make them honest. Horatio -said- there was more than one person involved.
"You mean they got you, too?" Rosalind unwound herself from around Calleigh's shoulders.
"Yep, me too." They both settled back, sitting side by side on the bed, leaning against the wall. "I assume that door is locked?"
"Yes." Rosalind eyed her. "Horatio will find us, won't he?"
"Yes, he will." Her absolute conviction reassured the girl. "Rosalind, how many people have you seen? There have to be at least three of them."
"I've seen three. One of them is a woman. I don't like her much. She's always talking about money, and she and one of the men argue about how to spend it. He even hit her once." She shivered.
"Did any of them hurt you?"
"No. The angry man doesn't want me hurt. He says I'm worth too much."
"What about the third man?"
"He's nervous. Always smoking cigarettes and talking about what if they get caught." Rosalind considered with all the wisdom of 10. "I don't like any of them, but the angry man scares me." Calleigh put an arm around her and pulled her over against her. "They haven't treated me badly, though. And they let me keep my cube, even." She pulled the Rubic's Cube out of her pocket. The sides were all scrambled again. Rosalind shifted a few rows absentmindedly, then looked up at Calleigh. "Horatio couldn't explain how he worked this puzzle, could he? Not like the one in the plane."
Calleigh smiled, thinking of him. "No, Rosalind, he couldn't. He sees how things fit together just by looking at them. He really has trouble explaining it. It's just how he is." She tightened her grip on Rosalind's shoulder. "But I promise, Rosalind, he's just as good with puzzles that matter. He will solve this case, and he will find us."
Rosalind smiled. "I know. I've been telling myself, sitting here, when I wondered if Daddy would really be able to get me back. I said if he doesn't, Horatio will." She hugged Calleigh again. "Horatio's really nice, isn't he?"
Nice. Of all the words Calleigh had thought of to describe Horatio, nice had never been one of them. Compassionate, brilliant, dazzling, dedicated, fierce, loving, honest, protective, sensitive. But yes, in addition to all that, in addition to the electricity that ran out from him to light her soul, illuminating her inwardly and yet slightly frightening her with its intensity, on top of all else, he was nice. "Yes," she said. "He is nice."
"I hope I meet somebody nice some day," said Rosalind wistfully.
"I do, too," said Calleigh sincerely. "But I'm afraid Horatio is one of a kind." She was suddenly consumed with anxiety for him. 5:00 AM, she thought, looking at her watch. I wonder if he ever got any sleep tonight. And if he did, no one will be there to hold him through the dreams.
***
Horatio was not asleep. He sat in the armchair in the honeymoon suite. Sanders had finally convinced him to go get a few hours rest, but lying down in that bed alone was unthinkable. They really could do nothing until the hotel manager arrived at 7:00. Then, with the description they had, they could attach a name to the waiter and catch him unexpectedly, as he arrived at work. This worker was the link to the kidnappers, the information source probably for both Rosalind's capture as well as Calleigh's. And Horatio would drag it out of him physically if he had to.
Now, though, he wasn't thinking of the crime as much as he was just thinking of her. He remembered the first time he had ever seen her in Louisiana, where he had gone to try to talk her into coming to Miami. He remembered the way she had dropped everything on her plate to do him a favor on the Sandoval case. The way she had marched toward him after the sniper had been captured, absolutely stunning in black, her eyes meeting his directly, warming in his praise. The way she had of tossing her hair back unconsciously. The way she stood on the firing range, all smooth competence, safety gear in place, utterly precise and deadly, gunning down the criminals with their own weapons. Most of all, the way that she had been there for him the last several months, his delicious discovery that he could lean on her, that her slight frame could support both of them. The utter release of not having to be in charge, of being together, equal partners. Loneliness had been the theme of his life until she came in, such loneliness that, looking back, it appalled him. Calleigh, he thought, how did I ever live without you? Moonlight flooded the room and illuminated the far wall, and he sat there in the armchair, watching mental pictures of her projected against it. When he finally did drop off to sleep, it was her face in the moonlight he dreamed of, her voice last night, calling him back from the edge of the abyss. Even without her presence, her voice held the nightmares away.
***
Calleigh and Rosalind scrambled off the bed and pressed up against the locked door listening as voices rose in the house.
"I'm telling you, they don't suspect a thing." This voice was cocky, one she hadn't heard before.
"And I'm telling you, you're pushing it on this job. Volunteering to take room service up to his room every time. Someone's going to notice." That was the one Rosalind had called the angry man, the one Calleigh recognized as one of the couple who had lured her.
"I did bring you the goods yesterday. About that cop from Miami." The cocky one was the hotel link, she realized. Horatio had thought there was a connection to the hotel, possibly with the criminals staying there, but at least some channel of communication.
"Two people now! $50,000 isn't enough, I tell you. And I still don't think it should be split four ways. Pete doesn't deserve a fourth." That was the woman, with such spite in her tone that Calleigh hardly recognized her voice from the night before.
"I grabbed the woman last night," Pete protested.
"Shut up!" That was the angry man, and silence fell for at least a few seconds. He was definitely the leader. "Bob, I'll go down to the hotel myself this morning when you go in, see how things look."
The voices died away to a low, discontented grumble. Calleigh straightened up and looked around her prison again. A nice but small room, with a small bathroom off it. Where was this house? The door rattled suddenly, the lock turning, and she steeled her muscles in case opportunity came. The first thing to come through the door, though, was the point of a gun. It was an ugly looking shotgun, a 20 gauge. "Back off, now." The angry man came in as she backed away. Rosalind had already jumped off the bed and pressed herself flat against the wall. Behind him came the woman, carrying a tray which she set on the floor next to the bed. "Feeding time at the zoo," he sneered. "Have a nice nap?"
"You're going to regret this," Calleigh insisted.
"I doubt it. Money buys a lot of comfort."
"But we should each get a third, Steve," said the woman.
"Shut up!" Calleigh tensed up, but his eyes never left her for the other woman. There was no opportunity to jump him. "Well, now, maybe your husband will keep out of other people's business. He's got a few things of his own to think about. And we'll make him wait a while for the ransom on you, too. Let him sweat."
Calleigh stared at him. "You think that you taking me will make Horatio back off?" Horatio, who would go on crusades daily for people he had never met before. Steve thought making it personal would back him off. She almost laughed out loud. "You have no idea what you've unleashed. He'll track you clear to hell if he has to." Steve studied her, weighing her sincerity against his own arrogance. This man is dangerous, she realized. He can think. Of the four of them, he was the real threat.
"I'll check up on him at the hotel, see how he's taking it. We'll see." The woman exited behind him, and he backed away himself, not turning around. The gun was the last thing out the door, and the locks turned again.
***
Horatio stood on the balcony overlooking the lobby, several doors down the hall from the door labeled Manager's Office, half-hidden by a large potted plant so that he could not be seen by anyone approaching along the hall. Sanders was next to him. The minute the waiter arrived at work, he would be escorted to the manager's office by security and a plainclothesman. They were just waiting. Horatio toyed with the package in his hands, newly arrived that morning, the laser binoculars from Miami. He probably wouldn't need them now. This lead was much hotter. The waiter was known to have a sister who lived in Niagara Falls, although the address wasn't listed. If a woman was involved, she could have lured Calleigh. The minute they got the address, Horatio wanted to search that house. He was as taut as a bird dog on point, seeing the end of the chase. Sanders, next to him, watched him unobtrusively and almost pitied the criminals of Miami. The elevator down the hall opened, and there he was, escorted by two guards. They vanished into the hotel manager's office, and Sanders and Horatio both started down the hall, but Horatio stopped so quickly that Sanders actually ran into him. "What is it?" the detective asked, backpedaling. Horatio had turned, looking out across the lobby. People milling around, checking in, checking out, normal morning hotel traffic. No one was paying attention to them. But for a moment, he had felt a sharp sliver of attention, the sense that he was being watched. There was nothing now, though. He swept the lobby with his eyes a few more times, then shrugged and turned back toward the manager's office. "Nothing," he replied.
***
Urgent feet approached the door, and the locks were unbolted before Calleigh and Rosalind had even had time to stand. Steve entered with a businesslike pistol in his hand. "Up, both of you. We're moving."
Pete, standing tentatively in the door behind, said, "Susan went out to buy groceries."
"Forget her." Steve stepped back and indicated the door. "Okay, both of you remember, Pete and I are armed. One scream, one gesture, anything to draw attention, and we'll shoot."
"Where we going, Steve?"
"Across the river. You remember that hunting cabin up there? It's isolated, I know where the key is hidden, and it's not connected to us. We'll be safe there."
"That's 10 miles," Pete protested.
"Nice long walk. Let's get started." His eyes ran up and down Calleigh with an assessing look that suddenly alarmed her. "I mean it, gorgeous. Don't try anything. I will shoot you." She believed him. She started off, one hand comfortingly on Rosalind's shoulder, trying to shake off the chill his eyes had given her. Horatio, she thought, I know you're coming, but please hurry.
***
Rosalind stumbled slightly. The pace was fast for 10-year-old legs, and the ground was getting rougher. They had worked their way off the streets and onto the trails network, heading for the Niagara River. There were few people around. It was still morning. In a few hours, the traffic would pick up. Ahead, Calleigh recognized the swaying bridge, the one that had scared Horatio. Just before it, Rosalind tripped again, though, and fell flat. Steve's hand moved threateningly in his pocket.
"Give her a break. Her shoe's untied." Calleigh picked Rosalind up, giving her a comforting squeeze, then knelt in front of her, working on the shoe.
"Steve, I'm gonna take a leak." Pete started off into the brush, and Calleigh for the first time saw Steve's eyes leave her for a second, following his partner with a look of impatience. Too far away to tackle, and she was totally off balance kneeling on the ground, but a flash of inspiration hit her suddenly. In one smooth motion, she reached into Rosalind's pocket, pulled out the Rubic's Cube, and lightly tossed it sideways off the trail. Steve turned back instantly at the motion, but Calleigh was innocently tying the girl's shoes. She glanced sideways unobtrusively. The cube rested about 10 feet off the trail, buried in early autumn leaves. Horatio would spot it in one second flat, but she doubted any casual hiker would. No adult would be looking that far off the trail, and any kids would be fixed on the bridge ahead. She finished tying the shoes and stood up. Rosalind's eyes met hers, and she managed a half smile. The girl started to turn her head, looking at the cube, and Calleigh caught her head, holding it straight. "It's going to be okay, Rosalind," she said, and she kissed her lightly on the forehead. Pete rejoined them, and the trek continued.
They crossed the swaying bridge and started up the trails on the other side, gradually meeting less and less people, the trails getting less and less traveled. Every time they made a turn, Calleigh dragged her right foot slightly along the edge of the dirt path, making it look like plain fatigue. Rosalind really was getting tireder, though, her pace forcing them to slow down. Calleigh could feel Steve's impatience approaching boiling point. It was now past noon.
"Let's stop for a minute," she said, obeying her own suggestion. "Sit down, Rosalind." She indicated a log by the trail, and the girl gratefully collapsed. Steve started to protest, and Calleigh cut him off. "It won't make it easier if she collapses and we have to carry her. 15 minutes' rest will do wonders." He eyed the girl assessingly, then nodded reluctantly. A thinking criminal, even if an amateur. Far more dangerous than ones who did not think. Horatio, she thought, hurry. He was coming. She could feel him. She twisted her ring on her finger, as if touching his soul along their connection.
"Let me see that." Steve had caught the movement, and his eyes mentally weighed the gold and the diamond.
"No." The tone was absolute refusal. His eyes met hers, and that look that had frightened her earlier was back. The male in him rose to a challenge. He undressed her with his eyes, and she shuddered unwillingly.
"You're right. Let's rest a bit," Steve said. "Pete, watch the girl. And keep your gun ready. Not likely to run into other hikers up this far." Pete took his gun out of his pocket and took up position across the trail from Rosalind. Steve pulled out his own gun and stepped back, putting some distance between them. "First, take off that ring."
"No." Her chin was up, her eyes defiant. He raised his gun, pulling back the hammer.
"He's history. You're mine now."
"Not till hell freezes over," she spat at him. "He's more man than you'll ever be." She knew it wasn't wise to provoke him, but he wasn't getting her ring or her, damn it. She saw the determination in his eyes a half second before he fired.