Chapter 3: Yokemate
"So," Danny's soft friendly voice said. Sara, startled, sucked in her breath in what might be considered a gasp and looked up. Her ghostly friend was leaning over the microfiche machine and smiling down at her. "Read anything interesting lately?"
"Hey Danny," Sara said, smiling. "What are you doing here?"
"I wish it was just a social call," Danny said a little bit sadly. "But the fact of the matter is someone needs you."
"What are you talking about?" she said, trying very hard not to be worried.
"Go to Gabriel's apartment," Danny advised.
"Why?" Sara asked, her voice hesitant.
"You'll know when you get there."
"Danny," Sara said, her voice a warning. It was true that she could do him no harm, but it was more the principle of the thing.
"Sara, I can't tell you everything," Danny said. It was an apology. "I can help but . . ."
"But not too much?"
"This is your life Sara, your fate, your duty."
Sara took a deep breath, "Gabriel's apartment."
Danny nodded.
"I'm gonna hate what I find there aren't I?" Sara asked suddenly afraid.
"I'll be there with you," Danny smirked. "In spirit."
Sara opened her mouth to say something back to her partner but he was gone.
***
The door to Gabriel's apartment was ajar. Just seeing that made Sara sick with fear. She took a tentative step forward and pushed it fully open and was assaulted with the stuff of most people's nightmares. Everything felt out of place. Gabriel's apartment had always felt cluttered to her, but this was a new level. It was like a Dali painting, everything was wrong but she wasn't sure how to even begin explaining how. And as she edged into his bedroom any doubts she had managed, despite herself, to harbor, evaporated.
Danny was sitting on Gabriel's bed looking, almost dreamily, up towards Gabriel's 'The Who' poster. "He's in trouble Sara," Danny said.
"And it's my fault," she said.
"You didn't cause it."
"He's alright, right?" Sara asked. Her throat was getting tight. "You wouldn't tell me he was in trouble if he was dead."
"He's not dead."
"You wouldn't be here if I couldn't fix it," she had desperate fear at bay, it was welling up in her chest and flowed out in a mild trembling.
"He's in trouble Sara, but he's alive." Danny assured him.
"Great," she said, her voice trembling. "So all I have to do is find him, right? Find him and save him?"
"You need Jake."
"Jake? Why do I need him?"
"He's your partner, Sara."
"No, you're my partner, he's the California boy doffus that tried to replace you and then turned on me and joined the organization that killed my father."
"You're judging him a little too harshly."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Sara snapped. "I'm just a little edgy, my best friend's been abducted by God knows who and taken to God knows where for God knows what reason!"
"Think about it Sara, God's not the only one with answers to those questions."
She looked at him skeptically as tears slowly escaped her eyes. She pushed her hands against her cheeks, spreading her tears across them instead of wiping them away. "Fine, right, all I have to do is detect where he is."
"You are a detective."
Sara nodded, her moist cheeks glistening, as she looked around. "Forced entry, both here and in the front room. But it doesn't look like there was much of a struggle. The only thing out of place is this lava lamp."
"Which means?" Danny prompted, as he had when she was just a rookie and he was the experienced trainer. She looked up at him and almost smiled, it was so familiar. It suddenly occurred to her that she had never prompted Jake that way, her desire to smile faded and she got back to the task at hand.
"He wasn't ready for them," as she pushed aside her personal feelings and became more professional she was able to think clearly and create a scenario in her head. "They came in and he heard them. Now, he didn't call for help . . . why didn't he call for help?"
"Where's his phone?"
"That's a good question," Sara said as she pulled her cellular phone out of her jacket pocket. Gabriel's number was three on her speed dial. Within seconds she heard the ringing on her line of the phone, a heartbeat, and she heard Gabriel's phone ring in the next room. Sara pulled her phone away from her ear and hung up after a second ring. "That answers that question, he couldn't." She walked into the main room and glanced around, Danny got off the bed and followed her, looking more at the apartment's decor than for any signs of an intruder. As Sara stormed through the department, finding nothing, she noticed Danny's leisurely stance.
"Why aren't you helping me?"
"I'm not your partner, Jake is."
"You've always helped me."
"This time I can't."
"What are you talking about?"
"Is there a ransom note, Sara?"
"No," she choked out.
"So no one is taking credit?"
"No."
"So the only possible way of finding who did this is through finger prints, trace hairs left at the scene, established MO's."
"Yeah."
"And how will you get access to that?"
"I can't trust him." Sara spit out.
"You can't afford not to." Danny said.
"He'll betray me and I'll die."
"Then I'll have some company."
"You're a sick, sick bastard Danny." Sara said, she was too frightened to edge her feelings and too frustrated to care about what she said. "Gabriel is in danger and all you can do is talk about Jake!"
"Sara whenever I'm here I'm here for a reason," Danny said. "I don't just pop up when you want me, I pop up when you need me."
"God knows I need you now Danny."
"And every word I say is meant to help you."
"Then why don't you help me now?"
"Because Sara," Danny said, with a saintly patience only death can bring. "Jake is your partner."
"Jake," Sara said softly, finally getting it. "This is all about Jake."
Danny nodded. "I knew you'd catch on."
* * *
When Jake got to work in the late morning there was an envelope waiting for him at the front desk. He asked who had dropped it off, but none of the people at the desk knew, it must have been left before the graveyard shift ended. When he opened it in the privacy of the office he and Sara had once shared he found two notes. Both typed on a word processor and printed on standard printer paper: there was little to no chance of tracing them to the criminals. One was a note to Jake, assuring him that the job had been carried off perfectly and that, eventually, Sara would be coming to him for help. And even if she didn't, the note said, she would undoubtably be feeling the same sense of lost helplessness that he was feeling. He could contact her if he felt like it, it would not change the plan one iota. And if, for some reason, he needed to contact them, it offered a number that would be answered by the eerie computerized voice 24/7. The second note was to Sara. It was typed with one of those goofy fonts that no one really uses except for posters and covers of book reports. The letters were designed to look like they were dripping blood, and they were printed in red. Jake read over the note and his heart seemed to stop. "Oh no," he muttered as his mind reeled. He had to do something to stop this right now. He reached for his desk phone, desperate to end the deal. But before he could even pick up the receiver his cell phone rang. Jake hesitated, sighed, and then pulled the phone out of his pocket violently, as if he were angry at the small chunk of plastic for delaying this most important call. Then he saw who it was who was calling and he instantly forgave and forgot.
"Sara," Jake said, his voice eager and hushed.
"Jake, I need your help."
"Gabriel's missing."
"How'd you know?"
"There's a note for you here, Sara."
"A note?"
"A ransom note."
"Someone sent a ransom note to you?"
"No, to you," Jake said, finding himself hard up for a reasonable explanation. "It was on your desk."
"How'd it get there?"
"I don't know," Jake said defensively. "It was here when I showed up."
"Right," Sara sighed. "I've gotta see it, we've gotta meet."
"Right, when, where?"
"Ahhh, Morrie's at two. I'll be in the back room."
"Great, I'll be there."
"I'm trusting you Jake," she said, he could tell it was part plea, part threat. "Gabriel's life may depend on this."
"We'll get through this, Pez. We'll get him through this."
"I'll see you at Morrie's," Sara said, before she hung up.
Jake pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. He felt absolutely sick. He shouldn't have told her about the note. If he hadn't told her about the note maybe he could have called the kidnapers and arranged for things to be different. Maybe at lunch he should tell her the truth, all of it. Yeah, it might be risky to blow his cover but if she knew who he was, really, and why he was there then maybe she'd be able to understand why he did what he did. And if he could tell her that he did it then they would be able to work together and make it un-done. But it was a risk, a very big risk. A risk he didn't have clearance to take and a risk he didn't know would pay off. Still, Gabriel Bowman had been dragged into a deadly situation because he'd been carefully avoiding big risks. Bowman was just a kid, it wasn't right. Jake had no idea how Sara had found Gabriel, but he did know that she loved Gabriel like a younger brother. He also knew that, if he looked at the whole situation from her eyes, Bowman was the one person she could trust. Hell, if you looked at the situation from any eyes he was the one person she could trust. Jake had ordered a kidnaper to come and 'get her', Kenneth Irons and Ian Nottingham were both complete psychopaths, and any other family or friends she had had before were dead. Sara was alone, Jake thought, she probably felt like a wave was crashing down on her and there was no one standing on the shore with a life jacket. And that thought gave Jake no pleasure, it only make him feel sicker.
***
"Hey!" Gabriel yelled into the vast, cold emptiness of the warehouse around him. "Anybody there?"
There was no answer.
"Come on!" he yelled. "There's got'a be somebody! You wouldn't just leave me here, unguarded," he waited for a response. None came. "I could escape!"
The truth was he couldn't, not without several small miracles. Gabriel reasoned his captors probably knew this, which is why they didn't waste their time guarding him, undoubtably a boring and morale hampering job. No, Gabriel mused as he looked around himself, he was quite stuck, totally dependent on rescue.
There was the simple fact that he didn't know where the hell he was. That could have, naturally, been overcome by simply wandering around until he found someone who could tell him where he was. But to wander around and find this person, he would have to have gotten out of the warehouse undetected, undoubtably a much more arduous task than it would appear, and to do that, he would have had to gotten out of his little cage. It was about four feet tall and six feet long. It was new and clean, with a thin blue plastic coating over the mettle bars. Gabe guessed that it was supposed to be used for kenneling large dogs. It had a latch, which a dog probably wouldn't be able to undo, to which a padlock could be, and was, attached.
But he could have kicked at the cage until it's relatively thin metal bars bent, then broke, and he could have, with extreme stealth, snuck out of the damned warehouse and ran to the nearest corner cop and explained his situation. All that would have been possible if not for his foot. The searing pain that ebbed out of it made it hard to breath. Despite the burning in his eyes that forced him to keep them closed he had stolen a glance at his foot in his one, quick, glance around the room. It was a horrible purplish blue and looked about two shoe sizes wider. He didn't have any idea how it had gotten hurt but he did know that he wouldn't be able to run, he probably couldn't walk, and he maybe couldn't even stand.
As another cold gust filled the bizarrely quiet warehouse and blew over him Gabriel tried to curl up in a ball to keep himself warm. Sara would find him, he reminded himself. She would find him and save him and then seriously kick the asses of whatever bastards were doing this to him.
He would be rescued.
***
Sara read over the bizarre note; it gave her the chills. She read over it again. "'We have Gabriel Bowman and we intend to keep him until such a time as we decide," Sara read out loud, her voice trembling. "It's such a pointless ransom note," she told Jake, as if it were his fault. "No demands, no reasons, just a statement of guilt. No one even takes credit."
"But," Jake said, reaching out over the table and putting his hand over hers. "It's a place to start."
"Not a very good place," Sara spat, furious and frustrated at the whole situation.
"It is what it is, Sara," Jake said, almost scolding her. "We have to take what we can get."
"Right," Sara asked, her voice shaking slightly as she was filled with a sense of hopeless defeat. "This is what it is. The question is where to go from here?"
"Find these bastards and save your friend," Jake answered simply. His blue eyes were wide open and: Sara couldn't help but think: honest.
"Where do we start?"
"Well," Jake said cautiously. "I think I might know who did this."
"How?"
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a magazine, put it on the table and sild it over to her. Sara picked it up and her brow wrinkled with concern as she red the small ad, circled in red.
"I found that on Dante's desk," Jake said as he looked around the restaurant, presumably to ensure that there were no White Bulls in the room.
"And you took it?" Sara said, surprised by her partner's boldness.
"Not from him," Jake said, he was looking at his lap now, playing with his napkin. "The janitor found it and asked me if it was trash."
"So you took it?" Sara said skeptically. The story was tentative and unlikely at best, add to that Jake was keeping his eyes, which were always as clear as windows, averted.
"Are you lying to me Jake?" Sara asked dryly.
Her partner looked up, his window-like eyes clear and honest, "I'm trying to help you, Sara. I mean, Gabriel may not be my friend, but he's yours and that makes him pretty damned important."
Sara wanted to remain suspicious and skeptical, but by even mentioning Gabriel he'd revealed her heart of stone to be merely made of clay. Gabriel and his best interest needed to be her focus, she reminded herself. She couldn't be distracted by her trust issues with Jake. "Thanks," was all she could think to say.
"I went ahead and tried to trace the phone number. New York Bell swears up and down that no one has or is using that number."
"Did you try calling it?"
"Yeah, it dumps you right into a voice mail. I left a message but . . ."
"So the number works?"
"Yeah."
"How could the number work without the phone company knowing about it?"
"I don't know," Jake said, obviously oblivious to how essential a clue this was. "Maybe someone sliced the line?"
"I don't think so," Sara said, her mind was racing a mile a minute as she tried to recall everything she knew about New York Bell, which wasn't very much. "Especially an 800 number."
"What's your theory?"
"Our kidnapers work for the phone company. They could cover up the phone records, hide their account . . ."
"I thought it was only postal workers who committed violent crimes."
"It takes all kinds Jake."
"But Sara, the phone company's gotta have thousand of employees . . ."
"But how many of them could hide an 800 number?"
Jake shrugged, "I don't know Sara."
"I think it's about time I found out."
"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to do my job, Jake," she said. "Detecting, remember? Finding the bad guys."
"You're on the lam, Pez, how could you . . ."
"Yeah, but nobody knows that but you and me and the White Bulls. I'm still a police officer, I still have my badge."
"You're walking on thin ice."
"And for all I know Gabriel is drowning," Sara said. "This is about him, the victim, remember?"
"Right, the victim," Jake said. His voice sounded oddly pained to Sara, almost guilty. "What do you want me to do?"
"Your job, Jake. Dante can't know you're helping me."
"But Sara . . ."
"I'll keep in touch," she said as she stood, grabbing her bag off the floor and digging through the pockets for the $6.50 that would cover her half of the lunch.
"I got it Sara," Jake said, obviously disappointed that she was leaving.
"It's fine."
"No, really Sara, I got it."
Sara glanced at him, "Ok," she said after a moment of hesitation. "Thanks."
At this point she knew she should leave, she had a lead and no idea how long Gabriel had. But she was still extremely bothered, "Jake, I need to know something before I go."
"Anything," Jake said, a little too eagerly.
"Nottingham said you were one of them."
"A White Bull?"
She nodded.
"He's said a lot of things, Sara."
"Yeah, and not all of them are lies."
"But a lot of them were."
At this point, she wasn't so sure of that. "A simple answer Jake, yes or no."
Jake closed his eyes, "No," he opened them again, the were sharp and honest: "I'm as dedicated to bringing them down as you are."
Sara nodded vaguely. "Thanks," she said again. This time she turned around and walked out, leaving Jake with the bill.
To Be continued . . . .
Author's Note: Unless only four people are reading this, which is entirely possible, I'm clueless as to why I'm not getting more reviews (she said innocently, as if she were not begging . . )
