Chapter 2
Steve carried the little girl through the automatic doors and into the ER. There he was met by his best friend, Dr Jesse Travis. "Hey there," greeted the enthusiastic young doctor. Swiftly he ushered both Steve and the girl into an exam room. "We found her at a murder scene, I'm guessing that the victims were her parents. She hasn't said a word yet or let go of me," explained Steve. Jesse moved closer to examine her but the girl's reaction showed how afraid she was. She clung tighter to the detective and manoeuvred herself so that Steve was between her and Jesse. Steve spoke softly to the frightened child. "This is Dr Travis, he's a friend of mine. He just wants to make sure you are OK." A wary look on her face, the girl moved out from behind Steve. Jesse smiled.
Mark Sloan watched from outside as Amanda filled him in on the morning's events before leaving for pathology. A sad frown appeared on the white haired doctor's face as he tried to imagine what this young girl had experienced over the previous twelve hours. Fixing his face with his best jovial look, Dr Sloan entered the exam room. Immediately, the girl cowered behind Steve. "Hi Mark," said Jess. "Hello Dad," Steve called. "And who do we have here?" asked the newcomer. "Oh, I see the problem," Mark reached over and plucked a chocolate bar from behind his son's ear. "Is that why you're here? You know," Mark spoke to the girl in a mock whisper "you really have to watch him," as he indicated Steve with his thumb. "He will keep his candy bars in the 'strangest' of places!" A smile spread slowly across the little girl's face. "Now then, what is your name?" Mark asked. The girl gesticulated with her hands. Mark looked at both Steve and Jesse who in turn stared back in surprise. "OK. My sign language skills are somewhat rusty so please, be patient," commented the senior physician. The girl nodded. "What's your name?" Again the child moved her hands. "Debbie?" queried Mark. She shook her head and signed again, slower this time. "Abi. Your name is Abi?" Mark announced triumphantly. Abi smiled, nodded furiously and gave Mark an enormous hug. "Well Abi, I am very pleased to meet you," greeted Mark. "Abi, can you tell me what happened?" he asked. Abi responded with a series of frantic hand movements, too fast for him to comprehend. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I can't read sign that fast." Again, Abi tried to relate her story, this time Mark managed to pick out snippets. "Two men.a gun.Mummy and Daddy.Bang Bang.hid.then you came," Mark translated. Even though it was simplified, everyone understood. "Would you let my friend Jesse have a look at you while I have a quick word with Steve?" Abi looked unsure. "We'll only be just outside." Reluctantly, Abi nodded her response.
Outside the exam room, Mark pulled his son to one side. Abi is a mute. She can understand the spoken word but is unable to respond other than in sign language, and I'm afraid my signing skills are way too rusty." "I know dad," replied Steve. "I've called the station, and they are sending out a translator. She witnessed her parents being murdered," Steve said looking trough the glass at the little girl. "And right now she is the key to this whole case. If the killer realises that there is a witness then Abi's life is in serious danger." "Let's just hope it won't come to that," offered Mark placing a reassuring hand upon his son's shoulder.
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"Social services have agreed for Abi Daniels to remain in our custody until tomorrow," stated Mark as he hung the receiver back in its cradle. Abi squeezed Steve's hand tightly; he looked down at a pair of eyes that for the first time that day shone.
At the Beach House, Steve settled Abi down in the guest room. He pulled a soft blanket up over the sleeping child and tenderly brushed a stray strand of auburn hair from her face. The horrors Abi had witnessed during that day drifted away and innocence prevailed as she slept.
Less than an hour later, things were completely different. Abi woke, crying, and ran from her room. She practically knocked Mark over as she came round the corner, clearly distressed. Mark held the little girl and soothed her with comforting words until her crying had subsided. "It's alright, no-one is going to harm you. You're safe now. Shh." Abi looked up at the white haired man who held her. Her dark brown eyes were now red and puffy from all the tears they had shed." 'Thank you' she signed simply. Mark smiled. "That's OK sweetheart. That's OK," and he hugged her again. "I know," Mark exclaimed. "How about some milk and cookies?" Abi nodded, and together they headed for the kitchen. Steve sat at the kitchen table drinking a beer and reading the sports section of the day's paper. "Hello Abi," he said as his father led the little girl to a chair and offered her to sit. "Would madam like to view the menu?" Abi smiled. "We have cookies with cinnamon, ginger cookies, cookies with hazelnuts or the chef's special, chocolate chip?" Abi signed that she would like the last one. "A good choice," Mark commented. Steve chuckled at the 'floorshow' that was going on before him. Next, Mark took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and layed it across the back of his wrist so as his 'customer' could view the vintage. Abi nodded her approval and moments later she was served with her order. Steve smiled at his father, whose eyes smiled in return, and the three of them sat around the table together.
The following morning Steve took Abi with him to the police station. A translator sat in on the interview and verbalised all of Abi's answers. Just as they finished, social services arrived to take Abi to her temporary foster home. Before she went, Steve dropped to his knees and hugged the little girl. "I will see you again soon, I promise." Abi kissed the detective upon the cheek and signed something before heading out the door with the two officers from social services.
That evening, Steve came home and slammed his keys on the table. Anger and rage welled up inside him. He headed off down the beach to the shoreline, reached down, plucked a stone from the moist sand and hurled it with all his might into the Pacific Ocean. Mark watched silently from the Beach House balcony before he too walked down the sand to join his son. "Steve?" queried Mark simply. "What's wrong?" Again, Steve threw a stone into the writhing waves, frustration evident in his actions. "The Daniel's case is scheduled for court the day after tomorrow." "That's good.isn't it?" asked his father cautiously. "Yeah," began the detective. "If they hadn't allowed Edmund Thomas out on police bail," replied Steve still astonished by the decision. "C'mon," said Mark as he placed a caring arm around his son's shoulder. "Let's go back to the house." The father and son team walked back up the sandy beach and entered the house, shutting out the night behind them.
In the distance a pair of binoculars watched their every move.
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Steve endured a fitful night's sleep, his pent up anger and frustration still jerking at his subconscious. The digital readout on his alarm clock read 4.56am. It had been the 'umpteenth' time that night he had looked at the timepiece. On each occasion the numbers barely changed at all. 'Enough,' he thought to himself. He pulled on a pair of grey shorts, an orange T-shirt and matching grey hooded sweatshirt. If he couldn't sleep, maybe a run along the beach would do the trick. Steve tied the laces on his running shoes, snatched his keys from the table, fastened his watch around his right wrist and left the house in silence.
The sun was just beginning to tug on the horizon, casting an orange hue across the ocean and the gentle lapping of the tide settled the detective into a steady rhythmic jog along the firm sand near the shoreline.
A couple of hours pass before Mark wakes. The house was quiet, so he slipped into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast. He opened the 'fridge door and pondered a moment before selecting a pack of bacon. Mark laid the rashers out regimentary style upon the grill pan and placed them under the heat. The gentle sizzling masked the sound of a door catch being opened. Without turning around Mark called out "I wondered how long you'd be able to resist the smell!" But the person behind him wasn't his son; it was a masked intruder, who, with a swift right hook caught the doctor squarely on the chin, sending both him and the bacon crashing to the floor.
Steve returned form his jog at approximately 7.15am. The rigorous workout he had given himself was now being soothed away by the tender caress of a hot shower. The aroma of cooked bacon wafted down to his apartment and he knew his father had begun to cook breakfast. However, the detective was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes upstairs.
Frantically, Steve searched the entire house, but there was no sign of his father. A few gouges in a door showed where someone had forced their way in. Steve called the station, reported the incident and put out an APB on his father.
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Mark shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his vision and remember what had happened. He sat in the back of a black sedan next to a large man aged in his late thirties, but who looked like he could possibly be a part of 'the human missing link'. "Well Dr Sloan," said the man in the driving seat. "It's nice of you to join us!" A sickly smile was visible to Mark from the rear view mirror. "Who are you and what do you want?" asked Mark indignantly. "Oh, we just want your son to do a 'little' favour for us," again the driver grinned and Mark's stomach sickened.
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Steve carried the little girl through the automatic doors and into the ER. There he was met by his best friend, Dr Jesse Travis. "Hey there," greeted the enthusiastic young doctor. Swiftly he ushered both Steve and the girl into an exam room. "We found her at a murder scene, I'm guessing that the victims were her parents. She hasn't said a word yet or let go of me," explained Steve. Jesse moved closer to examine her but the girl's reaction showed how afraid she was. She clung tighter to the detective and manoeuvred herself so that Steve was between her and Jesse. Steve spoke softly to the frightened child. "This is Dr Travis, he's a friend of mine. He just wants to make sure you are OK." A wary look on her face, the girl moved out from behind Steve. Jesse smiled.
Mark Sloan watched from outside as Amanda filled him in on the morning's events before leaving for pathology. A sad frown appeared on the white haired doctor's face as he tried to imagine what this young girl had experienced over the previous twelve hours. Fixing his face with his best jovial look, Dr Sloan entered the exam room. Immediately, the girl cowered behind Steve. "Hi Mark," said Jess. "Hello Dad," Steve called. "And who do we have here?" asked the newcomer. "Oh, I see the problem," Mark reached over and plucked a chocolate bar from behind his son's ear. "Is that why you're here? You know," Mark spoke to the girl in a mock whisper "you really have to watch him," as he indicated Steve with his thumb. "He will keep his candy bars in the 'strangest' of places!" A smile spread slowly across the little girl's face. "Now then, what is your name?" Mark asked. The girl gesticulated with her hands. Mark looked at both Steve and Jesse who in turn stared back in surprise. "OK. My sign language skills are somewhat rusty so please, be patient," commented the senior physician. The girl nodded. "What's your name?" Again the child moved her hands. "Debbie?" queried Mark. She shook her head and signed again, slower this time. "Abi. Your name is Abi?" Mark announced triumphantly. Abi smiled, nodded furiously and gave Mark an enormous hug. "Well Abi, I am very pleased to meet you," greeted Mark. "Abi, can you tell me what happened?" he asked. Abi responded with a series of frantic hand movements, too fast for him to comprehend. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but I can't read sign that fast." Again, Abi tried to relate her story, this time Mark managed to pick out snippets. "Two men.a gun.Mummy and Daddy.Bang Bang.hid.then you came," Mark translated. Even though it was simplified, everyone understood. "Would you let my friend Jesse have a look at you while I have a quick word with Steve?" Abi looked unsure. "We'll only be just outside." Reluctantly, Abi nodded her response.
Outside the exam room, Mark pulled his son to one side. Abi is a mute. She can understand the spoken word but is unable to respond other than in sign language, and I'm afraid my signing skills are way too rusty." "I know dad," replied Steve. "I've called the station, and they are sending out a translator. She witnessed her parents being murdered," Steve said looking trough the glass at the little girl. "And right now she is the key to this whole case. If the killer realises that there is a witness then Abi's life is in serious danger." "Let's just hope it won't come to that," offered Mark placing a reassuring hand upon his son's shoulder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Social services have agreed for Abi Daniels to remain in our custody until tomorrow," stated Mark as he hung the receiver back in its cradle. Abi squeezed Steve's hand tightly; he looked down at a pair of eyes that for the first time that day shone.
At the Beach House, Steve settled Abi down in the guest room. He pulled a soft blanket up over the sleeping child and tenderly brushed a stray strand of auburn hair from her face. The horrors Abi had witnessed during that day drifted away and innocence prevailed as she slept.
Less than an hour later, things were completely different. Abi woke, crying, and ran from her room. She practically knocked Mark over as she came round the corner, clearly distressed. Mark held the little girl and soothed her with comforting words until her crying had subsided. "It's alright, no-one is going to harm you. You're safe now. Shh." Abi looked up at the white haired man who held her. Her dark brown eyes were now red and puffy from all the tears they had shed." 'Thank you' she signed simply. Mark smiled. "That's OK sweetheart. That's OK," and he hugged her again. "I know," Mark exclaimed. "How about some milk and cookies?" Abi nodded, and together they headed for the kitchen. Steve sat at the kitchen table drinking a beer and reading the sports section of the day's paper. "Hello Abi," he said as his father led the little girl to a chair and offered her to sit. "Would madam like to view the menu?" Abi smiled. "We have cookies with cinnamon, ginger cookies, cookies with hazelnuts or the chef's special, chocolate chip?" Abi signed that she would like the last one. "A good choice," Mark commented. Steve chuckled at the 'floorshow' that was going on before him. Next, Mark took a carton of milk from the refrigerator and layed it across the back of his wrist so as his 'customer' could view the vintage. Abi nodded her approval and moments later she was served with her order. Steve smiled at his father, whose eyes smiled in return, and the three of them sat around the table together.
The following morning Steve took Abi with him to the police station. A translator sat in on the interview and verbalised all of Abi's answers. Just as they finished, social services arrived to take Abi to her temporary foster home. Before she went, Steve dropped to his knees and hugged the little girl. "I will see you again soon, I promise." Abi kissed the detective upon the cheek and signed something before heading out the door with the two officers from social services.
That evening, Steve came home and slammed his keys on the table. Anger and rage welled up inside him. He headed off down the beach to the shoreline, reached down, plucked a stone from the moist sand and hurled it with all his might into the Pacific Ocean. Mark watched silently from the Beach House balcony before he too walked down the sand to join his son. "Steve?" queried Mark simply. "What's wrong?" Again, Steve threw a stone into the writhing waves, frustration evident in his actions. "The Daniel's case is scheduled for court the day after tomorrow." "That's good.isn't it?" asked his father cautiously. "Yeah," began the detective. "If they hadn't allowed Edmund Thomas out on police bail," replied Steve still astonished by the decision. "C'mon," said Mark as he placed a caring arm around his son's shoulder. "Let's go back to the house." The father and son team walked back up the sandy beach and entered the house, shutting out the night behind them.
In the distance a pair of binoculars watched their every move.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Steve endured a fitful night's sleep, his pent up anger and frustration still jerking at his subconscious. The digital readout on his alarm clock read 4.56am. It had been the 'umpteenth' time that night he had looked at the timepiece. On each occasion the numbers barely changed at all. 'Enough,' he thought to himself. He pulled on a pair of grey shorts, an orange T-shirt and matching grey hooded sweatshirt. If he couldn't sleep, maybe a run along the beach would do the trick. Steve tied the laces on his running shoes, snatched his keys from the table, fastened his watch around his right wrist and left the house in silence.
The sun was just beginning to tug on the horizon, casting an orange hue across the ocean and the gentle lapping of the tide settled the detective into a steady rhythmic jog along the firm sand near the shoreline.
A couple of hours pass before Mark wakes. The house was quiet, so he slipped into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast. He opened the 'fridge door and pondered a moment before selecting a pack of bacon. Mark laid the rashers out regimentary style upon the grill pan and placed them under the heat. The gentle sizzling masked the sound of a door catch being opened. Without turning around Mark called out "I wondered how long you'd be able to resist the smell!" But the person behind him wasn't his son; it was a masked intruder, who, with a swift right hook caught the doctor squarely on the chin, sending both him and the bacon crashing to the floor.
Steve returned form his jog at approximately 7.15am. The rigorous workout he had given himself was now being soothed away by the tender caress of a hot shower. The aroma of cooked bacon wafted down to his apartment and he knew his father had begun to cook breakfast. However, the detective was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes upstairs.
Frantically, Steve searched the entire house, but there was no sign of his father. A few gouges in a door showed where someone had forced their way in. Steve called the station, reported the incident and put out an APB on his father.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mark shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his vision and remember what had happened. He sat in the back of a black sedan next to a large man aged in his late thirties, but who looked like he could possibly be a part of 'the human missing link'. "Well Dr Sloan," said the man in the driving seat. "It's nice of you to join us!" A sickly smile was visible to Mark from the rear view mirror. "Who are you and what do you want?" asked Mark indignantly. "Oh, we just want your son to do a 'little' favour for us," again the driver grinned and Mark's stomach sickened.
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