Part 3
THREE AND A HALF HOURS MISSING
"Was Emily complaining of headaches, stomach aches?" Jack asked, sitting on the edge of the principal's desk. "Did her sleep patterns change? Eating habits?"
"No," her father replied, "She's a real outgoing kid...uh," he rubbed his eyes, "she's in scouts, plays soccer, belongs to the 4H."
"She's well-liked at school; gets good grades." her mother interjected.
"How about fights with a friend? Trouble of any kind? Bully picking on her?" Malone pressed.
"No," Mike Anderson sighed.
"Problems at home?"
"Of course not!" the father's eyes got hot, "She wouldn't run away!"
"Mike," Rosemary Anderson placed a hand on his sleeve, then turned to the dark-haired agent. "She's had a few problems with responsibility lately, but that's normal for a girl her age. You know, forgetting stuff, not putting things away...losing library books..."
"...and hamsters," Mike sighed.
Jack nodded, "I've got two little girls. I do know," he eyed the clock, "I'll be in touch. We'll need to hook into your phoneline, in case it is a kidnapping. There are two agents in a car outside. They'll take you home."
******************
"It's back here somewhere," Martin announced loudly over the rolling thunder. He shivered and pulled his collar up, frowning as he sank into mud. The road to the janitor's residence was through a patch of dense woods. A loud series of sneezes caused him to pause, shaking his head, "You sound good."
"At least I got dry feet," Danny tossed back, eyeing the blue-eyed agent's wet bootless feet.
Martin made a face and pulled out his ringing phone.
"Fitzgerald," he said as he ducked under a low branch, peering into the thick woods.
"Guess who was chief cook and bottle washer at the house of many doors?" Samantha updated, peering on her computer monitor.
"Our missing janitor?" he shouted over the thunder, making a face at Taylor, who mouthed the words 'environmental specialist' and crossed his fingers in a gesture of chastisement.
"The very same. Walter Howard Murray, age 35," she scanned, "He's been in and out of jail since he was fourteen back in Detroit. Started in juvie hall for stealing purses, at sixteen he was hot-wiring cars, at eighteen he did four years for ripping off a convenience store. Then he moved to New York and he hit the big time: armed robbery and felony assault. He's been with the school a little over a year..."
"But?" Martin responded to the catch in her voice. He saw Danny gesturing to a small, one story building several yards away. "Yeah, I see it," he indicated and nodded.
"His cellmate in the pen said our boy Murray was into kiddie porn," continued Samantha.
"How the hell did he get hired in an elementary school?" Martin barked, his voice and face flushed in anger.
"His uncle is a big shot on the city council and on the school board," the blond agent replied.
"That sucks," Fitzgerald decided. "We're here. Looks like nobody's home." He huddled next to Danny, who had been pounding on the door. While Martin peered in the dark window, his partner disappeared around the side. "We're gonna check around the --"
"HEY, HARVARD, BACK HERE!"
"Martin? What's going on? Vivian's here." Samantha pushed the 'speaker' option on the phone so Vivian could hear as well. The other agent had just arrived, tossing her wet coat on a chair and leaning over the console.
"Hold on!" He paused, ran around the side and followed the beam of the other detective's flashlight. He squatted down next to the sniffling man and his heart sank. "Shit!" he hissed, eyeing the item on the floor of the cellar.
"Vivian, what was the description Mrs. Anderson gave of Emily's backpack?"
"Uh," she scanned the notes in her book, "Ocean blue...with dolphins...and two stickers."
"On the lower right? A flag and a butterfly?" he peered closer, as Danny flashed the light.
"Yeah," she sat down, narrowing her eyes, "What do you have?"
"The first piece of the puzzle," he lamented, then turned and asked, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Martin?" Vivian pressed closer, trying to hear what was going on.
"Window's open," Danny decided, lying on the cold, wet ground, "Grab my feet."
"Wait! You can't just... Dammit, Taylor!" He knelt down as the upper body disappeared. He grabbed his partner's ankles and held fast.
"Get me up!"
"Martin, what's going on?" Samantha stood up, her eyes shifting as the other agent's voice faded in and out.
"You can't just do shit like that!" the newcomer raged, hauling the coughing body up and settling him down on the ground, "What if you slipped? How about warning me?" He paused, seeing the fevered man's face go ashen. He cocked his wet head and frowned, "What?"
Danny sighed once and stared at the anxious blue eyes. "She was here. There's a bloody handprint on the wall, a little one."
"Fuck!" Martin sat down hard next to the wheezing agent. Danny picked up the discarded phone.
"Hello?"
"Danny? What happened? What did you find?" Vivian Johnson pressed.
"Vivian, update Jack. Get a warrant and the lab over here."
Numb from the cold, Taylor blew on his hands, listening as the other agents were updated. Twin profiles remained dejected for a moment. Rain streamed down, running off the fine features of both young men. Blue eyes and brown studied the landscape, each revisiting their own thoughts. Then a flash of movement just in front of them caused both to startle.
"Hey, did you see..." Martin jumped up, peering intently into the wooded area next to the house.
"Yeah," Danny hissed, clapping the arm of the other. "Let's go," he shouted, hopping off the porch, his partner in close pursuit.
**************** FIVE HOURS MISSING
The red and blue lights of the police vehicles reflected numbly on the leader's face. The dark clouds were still angry and the sky shouted loudly. He shivered in the doorway of the caretaker's dismal home, watching the lab work.
"Malone?"
"Yeah," he turned, greeting the medical examiner, "How long?" He walked through the narrow hall, peering into the bedroom
"Somewhere between eight and ten hours," Sadie Hopewell said, snapping new gloves on, "I'll know more after the autopsy."
"Foul play?" He eyed the nude body on the bed.
"Not that I can see," she said.
"Patterson?" he asked, calling to the detective nearby, "Anything?"
"No sign of her up here." He stood up, "we'll dust and collect it all, but I think she was contained in the basement."
"Where the hell is she?" He gazed at the unseeing eyes of the naked corpse, the former Walter Murray.
"This belong to one of yours?"
"Let's see," Jack approached the patrolman who was holding a cell phone. Jack flipped it over, "Yeah. It's Fitzgerald's. Where was it?"
"Under the porch. Might have dropped it..."
Malone blew out a frustrated breath, shook his head and went outside. He eyed the river of mud, wondering what evidence had been washed away by the storm. His head shot up when the familiar tones of the ever-feuding voices reached his ears.
"Don't talk to me!" Martin snapped, slipping twice in the mud and resembling a wayward skier. He was thoroughly soaked, his clothes sticking to him and his bones already in deep freeze.
"I didn't ask you to come charging in there like the damn Marines!" Danny shot back. "I was handlin' th...th...things...." he concluded and sneezed hard three times.
"God Bless You!" Fitzpatrick hollered, waiting for the other man to catch up. "You couldn't handle your ass with both hands," he charged, turning and pointing to his clothes, "Look what you did!"
"I didn't do that!" Danny hollered, reaching out with his free right hand and steadying the wayward man, who was sliding again.
"You sure as hell didn't help!" Martin shook off the arm of assistance. "Flank him and flush him out," he huffed, mimicking the order given earlier, which had sent him into a creek, "Brilliant fuckin' move on your part."
"It worked!" Danny trumped, slapping the back of the other's wet head, "I can't help it if you slide rule types aren't athletically gifted." He saw a single fingered reply and winced, "Nice. You learn that in that fancy college?"
"Well if it isn't the Hardy Boys!" Jack crossed both arms and glared openly, stopping the bickering pair in their tracks. "Either of you two geniuses remember how to use a phone?"
"Uh," Martin patted his pockets, then saw Jack holding his phone, "Oh."
"Gone in the line of duty, boss..." Danny sneezed.
"Well?" Malone demanded, then saw Taylor's hand appear from beneath his coat.
"What the hell is that?" Jack squinted at the gray wet pile of fur in the agent's hand. Then Danny's fingers moved and Jack's eyes lit up. "Where'd you find him?"
"Her," the sneezing agent corrected.
"She ran from the side of the house, after we updated Vivian and Samantha," Martin managed, shivering badly, "Can we do this inside?"
"Side of the house..." Jack ignored the plea, walked around and studied the side, "Here?"
"I guess," Danny winced through the rain, "Why?"
"We found empty tins of cat food inside. Down there." He eyed his two top men, hair plastered to their skulls and eyes wary. "Upstairs, a corpse."
"Aw, hell," the rookie swore, rocking back on his heels as if an invisible sandbag had hit him
"Not the girl," Malone shook his head, "Murray. Coroner thinks 8 to 10 hours. In his bed."
"That rules him out!" Danny's dejected tone matched his mood.
"You two head back to the office and dry off." He eyed the wet cat. "Make sure the lab gets that walking flea hotel. That's the same style ribbon Mrs. Anderson ID'd back at that school."
"Yeah," Danny gazed at the pink hair ribbon around the feline's neck with large purple hearts, "Will do, boss. Come on Harvard, you look like shit."
"No mirrors in your house, Taylor?"
Malone sighed and shook his head, wondering at the odd bond the two younger men were forming.
************************
SEVEN HOURS MISSING
Danny Taylor melted into the hot steam, letting the pulsating water pound against him. The steam eased the pressure in his sinuses and he felt a temporary sense of relief. His heart nagged at him to stay under the heat, but his head held the upper hand. He hurried, shutting the water off and grabbing a thick towel. He dried off quickly, jumped into a navy blue F.B.I sweatsuit and shoved his feet into clean socks and a pair of sneaks. Then he frowned, cocked his head and hissed.
As if Jack wasn't already pissed off at them.
"What the hell is he doing in there?" he mumbled, standing in the doorway. "YO!" he hollered, "Get your ass outta there. Jack's pissin' vinegar already!"
Martin didn't hear his partner. He peered through the steam, eyeing the image in the glass. The room behind him disappeared, and through the mist a face appeared: a small boy with sandy hair full of waves and pleading blue eyes. The hands came up, reaching out, seeking help. The mouth opened and the wavering voice went airborne. Despite the heat in the room, he shivered, as the child's cry for help echoed, bouncing off the walls. He grimaced and ducked his head, clenching his eyes shut.
"...go...away..." he whispered, pressing his face against the mirror.
*"Help. Somebody..."*
The banging followed, a small set of hands futilely pounding a thick door. Over and over...until the palms were raw. Bang...bang...bang...bang...bang...BANG...BANG...
"NO!"
That caused Taylor to move from where he was lounging in the doorway. He sprinted through the shower room, ready to call out, when he saw the other man. Fitzgerald was in front of a mirror, enveloped in steam in the semi- darkness. A snug-fitting towel hugged his damp hips. Above the left hip, the lower ribcage was a nice shade of blue. He thought back to the antics used to corral the cat and the slimmer man slipping. He must have hit the rocks in the water.
"Hey, you okay?" he hollered.
There was no reply. He moved closer and saw both hands pressed over the agent's ears, under a short wet set of brown waves. Both eyes were clenched shut and the newcomer was breathing heavily. He was sucking in air desperately, like a drowning man. Unsure of what to do, Danny thought for a moment and then rested a hand on the wet shoulder.
"Martin?" he asked quietly, giving a gentle tug. The body moved quickly, as if touched by a dancing flame. Fitzgerald jerked away and a loud hiss split the air as his breath was forced through his clenched teeth. Danny winced at the raw fright in the wide blue eyes. The unblinking gaze finally broke, the head swiveling rapidly. Who was he looking for? The set of angry blues came to rest upon him, both fists balled up.
"Whoa!" he put up both hands defensively. "What's up with that?" he noted of the odd posturing.
"Uh," Martin looked around the room, seeking out the troublesome ghost. He dropped his head, regained his senses and raked a shaky hand through his damp hair. "Sorry. I uh... was... uh... thinking about that kid..."
"Yeah, right," the disbeliever snorted softly. "You don't play poker that good," he noted of the expressive features. "Listen, get your ass moving. We're already in the doghouse."
"Go on. I'll catch up."
Martin picked up a new towel to dry his hair and upper body. From his side vision, he saw the sneaks and dark blue sweats. Still shaken by the horrific vision, his jangled nerves were raw and throbbing. He wasn't a kid anymore, and he didn't want to see his partner's eyes flickering with sympathy. He'd find a way to bury it again, nailing the pain away in the dark -- where it belonged. He tossed the towel away and noticed the legs still a few feet away.
"That cold cloggin' up your ears?" he said testily, "I'm fine!"
Taylor sighed, shook his head and left. He jogged up the stairs and into the hallway towards their office. Martin wasn't fine -- he was far from fine. Whatever Pandora's box the blue-eyed agent had opened in that school was still haunting him. He paused at the door, watching Jack updating the timeline on the board. He turned again to the stairwell and composed his thoughts.
"I'll cover your ass this time, Harvard," he vowed, "but you and me are gonna have a talk."
He wasn't about to allow whatever was eating away at Fitzgerald to interfere with this or any of their other pending investigations. He knew the signs, and burying whatever hornet's nest was plaguing the young man would only make it worse. It would fester until it exploded. He wasn't about to end up in a hospital -- or worse -- because of another 'space' event.
"12:45. Murray's body is discovered," Malone paused, black marker poised, as the door opened. He looked beyond Danny Taylor, his dark eyes narrowing.
Danny went to the coffee corner, pausing long enough to grab a large mug from his desk. He tossed in a tea bag, squirted in honey and lemon and filled it with hot water. He turned, his eyes sliding to each face.
"Where's Frack?" Vivian asked of the missing half of the oft-sparring duo.
"He'll be here," Danny stirred his tea, dropped into a chair and then grabbed a doughnut from the white box on the end. Jack was still staring at him. "He's movin' slow. He's sportin' some color on his ribs."
"How bad?" the leader inquired.
"Do I look like George Clooney?" he noted of the ER doctor and shrugged.
Malone's phone rang and he ducked inside his office.
"Don't I wish," Samantha Spade teased, "Now that's a man!"
"What's he got that I don't?" Taylor eyed the two women at the table, both smirking.
"Good looks, charm," Samantha sighed melodramatically.
"Sexy as hell," Vivian piped in.
"I said stuff that I DON'T got!" Taylor grinned cockily through cold-ridden eyes and a red nose. He saw Johnson's brow arch up. "Okay, well, besides a lot of money....a house in Beverly Hills. ..wall to wall women," Danny sighed, "Damn."
"Mrs. Anderson gave a positive on the ribbon." Jack picked up the discarded marker. "So sometime between eight fifteen and noon," he resumed, "when Danny and Martin found the house, Emily arrived there. The blood is hers and they found some more inside on broken glass."
"Where?" Danny asked, flipping his notebook open.
"On the floor, under the window." Vivian stood and walked to the photo pinned up on a line.
"She didn't fall," Samantha eyed the photos, "The handprint is going the other way. She climbed in. Why?"
"The schoolbag?" Danny surmised, "Maybe she leaned in too far and it slipped."
"The cat."
All the heads turned when Martin Fitzgerald walked very stiffly towards them. Try as he might, he couldn't help but flinch. His left side hurt like hell. He glared at Taylor, still feeling the rocks as they hit him from where they were buried under the water. He poured a quick cup of black coffee and moved to the far end of the table, keeping space between them.
"I'm fine," he answered Malone's penetrating gaze. "She either caught it or chased it. She put that ribbon on it --"
"Or somebody used it to lure her there," Samantha interjected, "She could have dropped her backpack running away. Cut her hand climbing to the window."
"Who?" Martin shivered despite the warm room and navy blue sweatsuit, which was slightly oversized on his lean frame. "Mrs. Anderson said the grounds were empty. She drove around the assembly hall on the way in."
"I gotta go with Martin on this one," Danny agreed, sipping his tea, "I don't think she'd have let that little girl out of the car if she saw somebody lurking."
"Okay, why would she chase a cat in that rain? And what happened at that house? Why didn't she go back to the school?"
The jangling phone took Malone once again to his office. The team followed his motions from the other side of the glass wall. Then his head shot up, his free hand covering the mouthpiece. They knew before the words left his mouth. After nodding a few moments more and scrawling on a yellow tablet, he hung up the phone. Four sets of eyes remained on him until he rejoined them.
"They found her."
THREE AND A HALF HOURS MISSING
"Was Emily complaining of headaches, stomach aches?" Jack asked, sitting on the edge of the principal's desk. "Did her sleep patterns change? Eating habits?"
"No," her father replied, "She's a real outgoing kid...uh," he rubbed his eyes, "she's in scouts, plays soccer, belongs to the 4H."
"She's well-liked at school; gets good grades." her mother interjected.
"How about fights with a friend? Trouble of any kind? Bully picking on her?" Malone pressed.
"No," Mike Anderson sighed.
"Problems at home?"
"Of course not!" the father's eyes got hot, "She wouldn't run away!"
"Mike," Rosemary Anderson placed a hand on his sleeve, then turned to the dark-haired agent. "She's had a few problems with responsibility lately, but that's normal for a girl her age. You know, forgetting stuff, not putting things away...losing library books..."
"...and hamsters," Mike sighed.
Jack nodded, "I've got two little girls. I do know," he eyed the clock, "I'll be in touch. We'll need to hook into your phoneline, in case it is a kidnapping. There are two agents in a car outside. They'll take you home."
******************
"It's back here somewhere," Martin announced loudly over the rolling thunder. He shivered and pulled his collar up, frowning as he sank into mud. The road to the janitor's residence was through a patch of dense woods. A loud series of sneezes caused him to pause, shaking his head, "You sound good."
"At least I got dry feet," Danny tossed back, eyeing the blue-eyed agent's wet bootless feet.
Martin made a face and pulled out his ringing phone.
"Fitzgerald," he said as he ducked under a low branch, peering into the thick woods.
"Guess who was chief cook and bottle washer at the house of many doors?" Samantha updated, peering on her computer monitor.
"Our missing janitor?" he shouted over the thunder, making a face at Taylor, who mouthed the words 'environmental specialist' and crossed his fingers in a gesture of chastisement.
"The very same. Walter Howard Murray, age 35," she scanned, "He's been in and out of jail since he was fourteen back in Detroit. Started in juvie hall for stealing purses, at sixteen he was hot-wiring cars, at eighteen he did four years for ripping off a convenience store. Then he moved to New York and he hit the big time: armed robbery and felony assault. He's been with the school a little over a year..."
"But?" Martin responded to the catch in her voice. He saw Danny gesturing to a small, one story building several yards away. "Yeah, I see it," he indicated and nodded.
"His cellmate in the pen said our boy Murray was into kiddie porn," continued Samantha.
"How the hell did he get hired in an elementary school?" Martin barked, his voice and face flushed in anger.
"His uncle is a big shot on the city council and on the school board," the blond agent replied.
"That sucks," Fitzgerald decided. "We're here. Looks like nobody's home." He huddled next to Danny, who had been pounding on the door. While Martin peered in the dark window, his partner disappeared around the side. "We're gonna check around the --"
"HEY, HARVARD, BACK HERE!"
"Martin? What's going on? Vivian's here." Samantha pushed the 'speaker' option on the phone so Vivian could hear as well. The other agent had just arrived, tossing her wet coat on a chair and leaning over the console.
"Hold on!" He paused, ran around the side and followed the beam of the other detective's flashlight. He squatted down next to the sniffling man and his heart sank. "Shit!" he hissed, eyeing the item on the floor of the cellar.
"Vivian, what was the description Mrs. Anderson gave of Emily's backpack?"
"Uh," she scanned the notes in her book, "Ocean blue...with dolphins...and two stickers."
"On the lower right? A flag and a butterfly?" he peered closer, as Danny flashed the light.
"Yeah," she sat down, narrowing her eyes, "What do you have?"
"The first piece of the puzzle," he lamented, then turned and asked, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Martin?" Vivian pressed closer, trying to hear what was going on.
"Window's open," Danny decided, lying on the cold, wet ground, "Grab my feet."
"Wait! You can't just... Dammit, Taylor!" He knelt down as the upper body disappeared. He grabbed his partner's ankles and held fast.
"Get me up!"
"Martin, what's going on?" Samantha stood up, her eyes shifting as the other agent's voice faded in and out.
"You can't just do shit like that!" the newcomer raged, hauling the coughing body up and settling him down on the ground, "What if you slipped? How about warning me?" He paused, seeing the fevered man's face go ashen. He cocked his wet head and frowned, "What?"
Danny sighed once and stared at the anxious blue eyes. "She was here. There's a bloody handprint on the wall, a little one."
"Fuck!" Martin sat down hard next to the wheezing agent. Danny picked up the discarded phone.
"Hello?"
"Danny? What happened? What did you find?" Vivian Johnson pressed.
"Vivian, update Jack. Get a warrant and the lab over here."
Numb from the cold, Taylor blew on his hands, listening as the other agents were updated. Twin profiles remained dejected for a moment. Rain streamed down, running off the fine features of both young men. Blue eyes and brown studied the landscape, each revisiting their own thoughts. Then a flash of movement just in front of them caused both to startle.
"Hey, did you see..." Martin jumped up, peering intently into the wooded area next to the house.
"Yeah," Danny hissed, clapping the arm of the other. "Let's go," he shouted, hopping off the porch, his partner in close pursuit.
**************** FIVE HOURS MISSING
The red and blue lights of the police vehicles reflected numbly on the leader's face. The dark clouds were still angry and the sky shouted loudly. He shivered in the doorway of the caretaker's dismal home, watching the lab work.
"Malone?"
"Yeah," he turned, greeting the medical examiner, "How long?" He walked through the narrow hall, peering into the bedroom
"Somewhere between eight and ten hours," Sadie Hopewell said, snapping new gloves on, "I'll know more after the autopsy."
"Foul play?" He eyed the nude body on the bed.
"Not that I can see," she said.
"Patterson?" he asked, calling to the detective nearby, "Anything?"
"No sign of her up here." He stood up, "we'll dust and collect it all, but I think she was contained in the basement."
"Where the hell is she?" He gazed at the unseeing eyes of the naked corpse, the former Walter Murray.
"This belong to one of yours?"
"Let's see," Jack approached the patrolman who was holding a cell phone. Jack flipped it over, "Yeah. It's Fitzgerald's. Where was it?"
"Under the porch. Might have dropped it..."
Malone blew out a frustrated breath, shook his head and went outside. He eyed the river of mud, wondering what evidence had been washed away by the storm. His head shot up when the familiar tones of the ever-feuding voices reached his ears.
"Don't talk to me!" Martin snapped, slipping twice in the mud and resembling a wayward skier. He was thoroughly soaked, his clothes sticking to him and his bones already in deep freeze.
"I didn't ask you to come charging in there like the damn Marines!" Danny shot back. "I was handlin' th...th...things...." he concluded and sneezed hard three times.
"God Bless You!" Fitzpatrick hollered, waiting for the other man to catch up. "You couldn't handle your ass with both hands," he charged, turning and pointing to his clothes, "Look what you did!"
"I didn't do that!" Danny hollered, reaching out with his free right hand and steadying the wayward man, who was sliding again.
"You sure as hell didn't help!" Martin shook off the arm of assistance. "Flank him and flush him out," he huffed, mimicking the order given earlier, which had sent him into a creek, "Brilliant fuckin' move on your part."
"It worked!" Danny trumped, slapping the back of the other's wet head, "I can't help it if you slide rule types aren't athletically gifted." He saw a single fingered reply and winced, "Nice. You learn that in that fancy college?"
"Well if it isn't the Hardy Boys!" Jack crossed both arms and glared openly, stopping the bickering pair in their tracks. "Either of you two geniuses remember how to use a phone?"
"Uh," Martin patted his pockets, then saw Jack holding his phone, "Oh."
"Gone in the line of duty, boss..." Danny sneezed.
"Well?" Malone demanded, then saw Taylor's hand appear from beneath his coat.
"What the hell is that?" Jack squinted at the gray wet pile of fur in the agent's hand. Then Danny's fingers moved and Jack's eyes lit up. "Where'd you find him?"
"Her," the sneezing agent corrected.
"She ran from the side of the house, after we updated Vivian and Samantha," Martin managed, shivering badly, "Can we do this inside?"
"Side of the house..." Jack ignored the plea, walked around and studied the side, "Here?"
"I guess," Danny winced through the rain, "Why?"
"We found empty tins of cat food inside. Down there." He eyed his two top men, hair plastered to their skulls and eyes wary. "Upstairs, a corpse."
"Aw, hell," the rookie swore, rocking back on his heels as if an invisible sandbag had hit him
"Not the girl," Malone shook his head, "Murray. Coroner thinks 8 to 10 hours. In his bed."
"That rules him out!" Danny's dejected tone matched his mood.
"You two head back to the office and dry off." He eyed the wet cat. "Make sure the lab gets that walking flea hotel. That's the same style ribbon Mrs. Anderson ID'd back at that school."
"Yeah," Danny gazed at the pink hair ribbon around the feline's neck with large purple hearts, "Will do, boss. Come on Harvard, you look like shit."
"No mirrors in your house, Taylor?"
Malone sighed and shook his head, wondering at the odd bond the two younger men were forming.
************************
SEVEN HOURS MISSING
Danny Taylor melted into the hot steam, letting the pulsating water pound against him. The steam eased the pressure in his sinuses and he felt a temporary sense of relief. His heart nagged at him to stay under the heat, but his head held the upper hand. He hurried, shutting the water off and grabbing a thick towel. He dried off quickly, jumped into a navy blue F.B.I sweatsuit and shoved his feet into clean socks and a pair of sneaks. Then he frowned, cocked his head and hissed.
As if Jack wasn't already pissed off at them.
"What the hell is he doing in there?" he mumbled, standing in the doorway. "YO!" he hollered, "Get your ass outta there. Jack's pissin' vinegar already!"
Martin didn't hear his partner. He peered through the steam, eyeing the image in the glass. The room behind him disappeared, and through the mist a face appeared: a small boy with sandy hair full of waves and pleading blue eyes. The hands came up, reaching out, seeking help. The mouth opened and the wavering voice went airborne. Despite the heat in the room, he shivered, as the child's cry for help echoed, bouncing off the walls. He grimaced and ducked his head, clenching his eyes shut.
"...go...away..." he whispered, pressing his face against the mirror.
*"Help. Somebody..."*
The banging followed, a small set of hands futilely pounding a thick door. Over and over...until the palms were raw. Bang...bang...bang...bang...bang...BANG...BANG...
"NO!"
That caused Taylor to move from where he was lounging in the doorway. He sprinted through the shower room, ready to call out, when he saw the other man. Fitzgerald was in front of a mirror, enveloped in steam in the semi- darkness. A snug-fitting towel hugged his damp hips. Above the left hip, the lower ribcage was a nice shade of blue. He thought back to the antics used to corral the cat and the slimmer man slipping. He must have hit the rocks in the water.
"Hey, you okay?" he hollered.
There was no reply. He moved closer and saw both hands pressed over the agent's ears, under a short wet set of brown waves. Both eyes were clenched shut and the newcomer was breathing heavily. He was sucking in air desperately, like a drowning man. Unsure of what to do, Danny thought for a moment and then rested a hand on the wet shoulder.
"Martin?" he asked quietly, giving a gentle tug. The body moved quickly, as if touched by a dancing flame. Fitzgerald jerked away and a loud hiss split the air as his breath was forced through his clenched teeth. Danny winced at the raw fright in the wide blue eyes. The unblinking gaze finally broke, the head swiveling rapidly. Who was he looking for? The set of angry blues came to rest upon him, both fists balled up.
"Whoa!" he put up both hands defensively. "What's up with that?" he noted of the odd posturing.
"Uh," Martin looked around the room, seeking out the troublesome ghost. He dropped his head, regained his senses and raked a shaky hand through his damp hair. "Sorry. I uh... was... uh... thinking about that kid..."
"Yeah, right," the disbeliever snorted softly. "You don't play poker that good," he noted of the expressive features. "Listen, get your ass moving. We're already in the doghouse."
"Go on. I'll catch up."
Martin picked up a new towel to dry his hair and upper body. From his side vision, he saw the sneaks and dark blue sweats. Still shaken by the horrific vision, his jangled nerves were raw and throbbing. He wasn't a kid anymore, and he didn't want to see his partner's eyes flickering with sympathy. He'd find a way to bury it again, nailing the pain away in the dark -- where it belonged. He tossed the towel away and noticed the legs still a few feet away.
"That cold cloggin' up your ears?" he said testily, "I'm fine!"
Taylor sighed, shook his head and left. He jogged up the stairs and into the hallway towards their office. Martin wasn't fine -- he was far from fine. Whatever Pandora's box the blue-eyed agent had opened in that school was still haunting him. He paused at the door, watching Jack updating the timeline on the board. He turned again to the stairwell and composed his thoughts.
"I'll cover your ass this time, Harvard," he vowed, "but you and me are gonna have a talk."
He wasn't about to allow whatever was eating away at Fitzgerald to interfere with this or any of their other pending investigations. He knew the signs, and burying whatever hornet's nest was plaguing the young man would only make it worse. It would fester until it exploded. He wasn't about to end up in a hospital -- or worse -- because of another 'space' event.
"12:45. Murray's body is discovered," Malone paused, black marker poised, as the door opened. He looked beyond Danny Taylor, his dark eyes narrowing.
Danny went to the coffee corner, pausing long enough to grab a large mug from his desk. He tossed in a tea bag, squirted in honey and lemon and filled it with hot water. He turned, his eyes sliding to each face.
"Where's Frack?" Vivian asked of the missing half of the oft-sparring duo.
"He'll be here," Danny stirred his tea, dropped into a chair and then grabbed a doughnut from the white box on the end. Jack was still staring at him. "He's movin' slow. He's sportin' some color on his ribs."
"How bad?" the leader inquired.
"Do I look like George Clooney?" he noted of the ER doctor and shrugged.
Malone's phone rang and he ducked inside his office.
"Don't I wish," Samantha Spade teased, "Now that's a man!"
"What's he got that I don't?" Taylor eyed the two women at the table, both smirking.
"Good looks, charm," Samantha sighed melodramatically.
"Sexy as hell," Vivian piped in.
"I said stuff that I DON'T got!" Taylor grinned cockily through cold-ridden eyes and a red nose. He saw Johnson's brow arch up. "Okay, well, besides a lot of money....a house in Beverly Hills. ..wall to wall women," Danny sighed, "Damn."
"Mrs. Anderson gave a positive on the ribbon." Jack picked up the discarded marker. "So sometime between eight fifteen and noon," he resumed, "when Danny and Martin found the house, Emily arrived there. The blood is hers and they found some more inside on broken glass."
"Where?" Danny asked, flipping his notebook open.
"On the floor, under the window." Vivian stood and walked to the photo pinned up on a line.
"She didn't fall," Samantha eyed the photos, "The handprint is going the other way. She climbed in. Why?"
"The schoolbag?" Danny surmised, "Maybe she leaned in too far and it slipped."
"The cat."
All the heads turned when Martin Fitzgerald walked very stiffly towards them. Try as he might, he couldn't help but flinch. His left side hurt like hell. He glared at Taylor, still feeling the rocks as they hit him from where they were buried under the water. He poured a quick cup of black coffee and moved to the far end of the table, keeping space between them.
"I'm fine," he answered Malone's penetrating gaze. "She either caught it or chased it. She put that ribbon on it --"
"Or somebody used it to lure her there," Samantha interjected, "She could have dropped her backpack running away. Cut her hand climbing to the window."
"Who?" Martin shivered despite the warm room and navy blue sweatsuit, which was slightly oversized on his lean frame. "Mrs. Anderson said the grounds were empty. She drove around the assembly hall on the way in."
"I gotta go with Martin on this one," Danny agreed, sipping his tea, "I don't think she'd have let that little girl out of the car if she saw somebody lurking."
"Okay, why would she chase a cat in that rain? And what happened at that house? Why didn't she go back to the school?"
The jangling phone took Malone once again to his office. The team followed his motions from the other side of the glass wall. Then his head shot up, his free hand covering the mouthpiece. They knew before the words left his mouth. After nodding a few moments more and scrawling on a yellow tablet, he hung up the phone. Four sets of eyes remained on him until he rejoined them.
"They found her."
