Part 4

"That was Memorial Hospital in New London," he paused, seeing the four anxious faces trained on him. "She's alive," Malone continued, watching all four exhale in relief.

"Connecticut?"

"How'd she get there?"

"Is she okay?"

"Who found her?"

"WHOA!" Jack's two hands went out in a defensive mode, silencing the group. He pulled out the notes he'd taken and scanned them. "The NLPD found her walking on the shoulder of I95," he noted of the interstate highway, "She appears to be fine. They contacted her folks."

"How the hell did she get there?" Danny furrowed his brow, gave two sneezes and then grimaced as both woman moved to the other end of the table. "Nice. I've seen snakes with more compassion."

"According to the cop I talked to, she was pretty shook up. Cold, hungry and wet. She was crying for her mother."

"Poor baby," Vivian sighed.

"Was she abducted?" Martin asked, trying to find a comfortable spot. His side was throbbing in an unending parade of pulsating pain.

"No." Jack got his coat on, "At least they don't think so. She said she fell asleep in a church van near the woods. She woke up and got out -- they think at a rest stop off the highway. The kid wasn't sure, she's really mixed up. She went into the bathroom and when she came out the van was gone. So she started walking."

"What about the cat?" Samantha wondered of the hair ribbon.

"I don't know," Jack replied, buttoning his coat, "Yet."

"A church van," Danny frowned, scouring his notes.

"Near the woods," Martin completed.

"All this brain activity is wearin' me out!" Vivian rolled her eyes at the two young men.

"Let's go," Jack tossed to Vivian, "You're up. We'll go up to New London. Sam, I want you and Danny to get a map and find out where this 'church' is. She's a kid, she couldn't have walked that far. I want that van. And the driver."

The two peeled out, grabbing coats and quickly exiting, ducking past their boss at the door.

"I go with Danny!" Martin interjected, his eyes flashing blue fire. "We were the leads!"

"You could go with Danny," Malone conceded by the door, "but you'll be busy getting your picture taken."

"My picture?" The brows over the blue eyes knit together.

"Not that pretty face, Ace," Malone opened the door, "Your ribs."

"I don't need any damn..." He stood too fast, grimaced and grabbed the table.

"Excuse me?"

For a long moment, Martin held the other man's intense gaze, then he sat back down, shoulders slumped. He kept the scowl long after the rest of the team departed.

"Great!" Martin tossed his pencil across the table, "Perfect way to end this miserable fuckin' day."

************************ FIVE O'CLOCK, New York

"Danny."

The rain finally stopped, but the air was chilly. The germ-ridden agent blinked and yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"We're here." Spade pulled into another building, the third that they'd found by following the crooked roads scattered through the woods. She got a flashlight from the trunk and flicked it on. The dark-haired agent was already near the porch.

"Bingo!" he called out, squinting in the twilight. The woods and overcast day made it darker than normal.

"What?" She jogged over, flashing the light on a sign hanging over the door.

"The New Light Mission." The lettering was in white on a gray wooden sign. It was accompanied by a cross with a lamb lying in front and a stream of light bearing down.

"Hey!" He knocked on the door loudly. There was no reply. The house was dark and the door locked. "F.B.I.!" he rapped again loudly.

"Danny..."

He left the porch and went around the side, to where the blond was squatted over a patch of ground. The light illuminated two small prints in the mud.

"She was here..." Samantha flashed the lights to a tangled thatch of woods. "That's quite a walk..."

"I'll call it in..."

*********************** SIX THIRTY, Memorial Hospital, New London, CT

"Emily?"

The eight-year old looked up from her bed, two French fries poised in mid- air.

"Honey, this is Mister Malone. He's one of the F.B.I agents who was looking for you," Rose Anderson noted from her position by the bed. Her husband was in the chair on the other side.

"Hi," Emily said, eyeing the two people approaching the bed. "Want some?" she offered part of her meal.

"No, thanks," Jack denied.

"Hi, I'm Vivian. I work with Mr. Malone. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go home later."

"Good," the dark-skinned agent smiled, "Can you tell us what happened?"

"Well," she sighed, putting the fries down and taking a sip of soda, "I was late for assembly. I tried to catch up to Jessie. I even hollered, but she didn't hear me."

"Jessica went inside, but you didn't follow?" Jack asked, keeping his place at the foot of the bed.

"I heard a cry," the eight-year old adjusted her glasses, "It sounded like a baby. I ran around the end of the building. I saw a cat -- a gray cat -- come from underneath with a kitten in it's mouth. I peeked in the hole, and it was filling with water. There were two more kitties in there. I took 'em out. I didn't want them to drown." She sighed, rubbed her eyes under the glasses and yawned.

"Take your time, Sweetie, " her mother coached.

"So I followed the mama cat. I had to run, she was fast."

"Into the woods?" Vivian inquired and the dark head bobbed.

"Yeah. It was dark, and the rain was pouring. I kept running. Then I saw a house and the cat jumped into a window. So I stopped and looked inside. The window was busted. I wasn't gonna go in, I wouldn't do that. It wasn't my house..."

"But you dropped your schoolbag?" Jack guessed.

"Yes, sir. I put it down to get the kitties out, so the mama could take them. I had one kittie in each hand and I moved. My bag fell inside. It was brand new and my Mom, well, she's says I'm irresponsible. I didn't wanna get into trouble again."

"So you tried to get it yourself?" Johnson asked.

"Not right away. I knocked...I...I knocked hard on the door," she stammered. "But nobody was home. So I tried to climb in the window and I slipped. I cut my hand." She held up her bandaged hand. "I tried to go up the stairs, but I couldn't see, it was too dark in the cellar. So I rested awhile and tried to get my hand to stop bleeding."

"When did you lose your hair ribbon?"

"I put the kitties with her -- the mama -- and I tied the ribbon on her neck. The thunder was loud and I was wet and scared..."

"What happened next?" Jack gently prodded, trying to move the story along. Taylor had called in, identifying the van as one owned by an Edward and Marylin Wilby. Mrs. Wilby's mother lived in New London. The Wilby's were coming for the weekend and intended to bring the mother back for Thanksgiving. Taylor had spoken to the New London police, who'd tracked the panel van to Mary Louise Morgan's home in New London. Nobody was more surprised than the quiet, middle-aged couple. They'd had no idea they'd driven away with the child. Mr. Wilby had found three kittens inside a sweater and notified police. The pieces came together.

"Well, the cat, she left. She jumped up the boxes and I tried to catch her," she paused, taking a fistful of fries and chewing thoughtfully, "Mommy says maybe there was another baby. A missing one and she was trying to find it."

"Could be," Vivian prodded, "Did you follow her?"

"Not right away, but then the babies started to move around. I didn't want them to get lost in the cellar. I put them in my pockets and tried to find the mama cat. I didn't know where she went." She took more soda and finished, "I got lost. It was dark...the thunder was loud...the rain hurt my face. I followed the cat into the woods...but then I didn't know where to go...so...so...I started to run. I kept going and going and my side hurt and I was crying and...and..."

"Easy now, take a breath," the father spoke, sliding a hand through the rails to hold hers.

"Okay," she tried that and eyed the two agents, "Am I gonna get arrested?"

"No, " Jack smiled.

"Good!" She sighed, "It was dark, really dark, and I was all wet and cold and my head hurt from crying. I saw a white cross -- that was after I was asking God to help me out -- so, I thought he answered. The back door was open and I had to get out of the rain. It was too hard, it hurt. There was lots of clothes and blankets and stuff inside. I was so cold, I buried myself in them to get warm."

"You didn't see the church?" Vivian asked.

"No. I saw the cross and I just...I was so cold and the thunder..."

"Okay, okay," Vivian nodded with a smile, "Did you fall asleep?"

"Yeah. I woke up...and...I had to go to the bathroom...really bad. I left the kitties in my sweater. They were sleeping. I didn't see anybody in the front and I really had to pee. It was a...a...wooden...uh...like the kind of bathroom in the...state parks...not real nice."

"Okay," Jack said, "You came out and the van was gone?"

"Yessir. So I started to walk. I didn't see nobody. Then the policeman came along."

"Well, you sure had quite an adventure," Jack said, "That van you climbed in was owned by a minister and his wife. They were coming here to pick up her mother. They had no idea you were back there. Those clothes and blankets are collected for the poor. Mister Wilby, the minister, he took his wife to his mother's house, then he went to do some errands."

"And stopped at the bathroom," Vivian concluded, "He got back to his mother's and heard those kittens." She left out the part about how the man had panicked when he found a child's sweater and no child. "He sure was glad to hear you are okay."

"My mom and dad, they said you were looking for me all day," Emily's voice wavered and she started to tear up, "I...I...I'm sor...sor...sorry..."

"Honey, don't cry," Jack came forward, showing her his ID badge, "You see what that says?"

"Missing Persons Bur...bur..."

"Bureau..." he finished, "It's my job, and Vivian's job, and the rest of my team's job, to find people who disappear. So you save those tears, okay? We're just doing our job, and we like a happy ending."

"The cat!" she looked up, eyes wide, "She...I took her babies!"

"You were trying to protect them," her mother soothed.

"They're at the vet. Mister Wilby will bring them back. Our people will hold onto the mother cat until they get back. A couple of my men found her."

"She's okay?"

"Yeah, she's tough, like you!" Jack winked, then turned to the parents. The child was tired and needed to rest a bit. It was a long ride home. "We'll be in touch. Good luck!"

"Thanks, Mr. Malone, for everything. Please thank your team. I can't possibly repay --"

"Can I have a smile?" Jack asked the little girl, who gave a huge one, "Paid in full!"

************************** Seven thirty, New York

"Can I drop you off?"

"Nah. I gotta pick up my stuff," Danny advised, flipping the cell phone shut, "Still no answer."

"Maybe he went home and took some painkillers," Samantha added.

"My boy Harvard?" Danny shook his head, "No way. He's the type that'd chew off his foot to get free from a steel trap."

"Then why are you worried?" She eyed the profile, turned a corner and waited. He didn't reply. "Did you two have another fight?"

"So maybe all the kinks aren't out yet," he relayed, but would offer no more. He was worried, but not about the ribs. He wanted to know what could cause the driven young man to become so full of fear.

"Maybe you should go right home. Chug-a-lug some Robitussin."

"Later," Danny yawned, fingering his throbbing temples. "Plus I want to wrap this up tonight. I can put a couple hours in and get the paperwork done. This is good," he nodded to the corner coming up, just a block from their office. A pair of panda bears under crooked red lettering called out to him. "I need some won ton. I need a vat of it."

"Jack's not due back for an hour or more. How 'bout we eat first?"

"You buyin'?"

"I swear those must be the words between Daniel and Taylor on your driver's license."

"Thanks. I owe you!" He slid from the now parked car.

"I didn't say I was --" she winced as the door slammed, "buying dinner."

*******************

Eight forty-five, parking lot of the Federal Bldg

"Hey, Boss!" Danny called out, seeing the older man near the elevator, "How'd it go?"

Jack stopped and waited until Sam parked and the other two agents joined them. He gave them a brief update as they rode up to their floor.

"You hear from Fitzgerald?" Danny asked, "I can't get him. Here, home or cell."

"No," Jack said, "Did you check with the ER?"

"I don't know where he went," Danny replied, "I figured he'd answer his phone."

"They don't allow them on in an ER," Vivian replied, holding the office door open, "Well, I guess that mystery is solved."

"Where is he?" Samantha asked, eyeing the coat flung over a chair. Several files were open on his desk and new notes were written on a yellow legal pad.

Jack cast his eyes around the room and spotted the door to the conference room open a little. He moved over, pushed it all the way and sighed.

"And you say I'm stubborn!" Danny wormed his way inside. He paused next to Martin, who was snoring softly. His head was lying on his folded arms on the table. Several folders, photos and schematics were neatly organized on the large table. A half-eaten package of orange crackers with peanut butter and a small, empty bag of pretzels were lying near an empty mug of coffee.

"Vecchione," Malone frowned, eyeing the notes.

"That dealer from A.C.?" Taylor recalled. "We're not still on that, are we?"

"He's sound!" Vivian eyed the relaxed features on the sleeping man's face.

"So would you be if you took these," Jack eyed the painkillers, "Take with food."

"Men!" Vivian shook her head of the 'food' on the table.

"Could be Sleeping Beauty needs a kiss to wake him up," Danny goaded, wagging his eyes at the two females.

"Go on, Honey," Vivian waved her hand at the smirking male, "Knock yourself out!"

"Martin," Jack tapped the navy blue sweatshirt, frowning when his fingers encountered something bulky. He moved them around. "Some kind of brace."

"Damn, he must have busted them," Danny sat on the edge of the table, peering intently at the sleeping man. "Hey, he's got that drool thing going," he pointed to a line of saliva running from the corner of the slack lips, "I hate that."

"Then don't look."

"He's back!" Vivian said of the cranky voice, "You okay?" She rubbed his neck as he stiffly sat up and blinked.

"Bruised, not broken," he yawned, opening his eyes unnaturally wide.

"Take with Food!" Jack addressed the stuporous face.

"I did."

"That's not food!" Samantha picked up the crackers and chuckled when the blue eyes slid shut again.

"Damn, that must be good shit," Danny picked up the bottle.

"Come on, I'll take you home," Jack tapped the dazed man's arm. "You can't drive. Downtime?" he asked of potential time off, from the doctor's advice.

"Uh, it's after nine I think," Martin's fuzzy voice replied as he tried to find his watch.

"Man, you're flyin!" Danny laughed.

"Alright," Jack stood up and nodded, dismissing them. "What's all this?" he cocked his head at the reopened case.

"Thought...maybe...I...missed...something..."

"Yeah, well, save it for Monday. You keep icin' them ribs up and take it easy. You fall on that you could put a hole in your lung."

"Huh?" Martin yawned, then stood and wavered as the room moved a bit. "Shit!"

"That's why you take them WITH food, genius," Jack growled, shoving the pills into Fitzgerald's pocket.

The leader grabbed his elbow and waited until the slim man was more stable. By the time he managed to propel him to the outer room, Johnson and Spade were gone. Jack saw Danny lingering, and something about the way he was looking at the dazed Seattle native told him there was unfinished business.

"I go that way," he updated of his dazed partner's home, zipping his coat, "Come on, Harvard."

"Danny?" Jack said, meeting the dark eyes as Fitzgerald tried to get his arm in his jacket. He knew something was wrong. Taylor was hiding something. He wanted to talk to Martin alone. Whatever it was, it couldn't wait for the new work week. "Get it done by Monday."

"Easier said than done," he replied, steadying the wayward body. "Watch that, will you?" He grabbed the elbow. "One trip to the ER on a Friday night isn't enough for you?"

"Huh?" Martin blinked through what felt like many layers of mud between his eyes and his brain. He was having a difficult time remaining on his feet. The elevator ride was a blur and he had to concentrate hard to get his feet working. Finally, he slid on leather seats and sighed, letting his head loll. He felt the snap of the seat belt and the blast of heat, as a motor roared to life. He was dozing, grateful for the warm ride, when a loud series of sneezes got his eyes open. Peering over, he could see the driver's eyes reduced to cold-ridden slits.

"Helluva team," the words seemed too hard to maneuver on his thick tongue, "I can't walk...you can't see..."

"Well," Danny grinned, "as long as nothing important is affected. You know, I could be at home, in bed, being nursed back to health by the lovely Denise."

"Sorry," Martin slurred, casting woeful eyes at the driver.

Danny had to laugh at that, shaking his dark head, "That's okay, Harvard. We're a team!" His smile disappeared when the half-mast, lost blue eyes went to a place far beyond the horizon.

"It hurts..."

The dark-eyed detective knew Fitzgerald wasn't talking about his injured ribs. The soft voice was unsettling and the mournful eyes were worse. He would get to the bottom of the problem, but not tonight.

"We're gonna talk about that, Martin. I can't have you off lost in space while we're working."

The tone and brittle words cut through the mud. The lost blues swung from the cold glass of the window to the hot gaze of the driver. The medication had his head logy, but not so much that he didn't realize he had a problem. Taylor was correct in that he needed a clear head to work effectively. But he'd slay the demons alone, nobody would revisit those dark days.

"I'll handle it."

It wasn't the affirmation that upset Taylor -- it was that it was set in concrete. He paused, turning at the light, and shuffled his thoughts. Through a series of coughs and sneezes, he decided to wait a couple days and let them both heal a bit. But on Sunday, Martin Fitzgerald would come clean - even if it took all day and more than heated words.

It seemed like forever before he had the key in Fitzgerald's door. He got the staggering man to his bedroom and shoved him on the bed. Martin sacked out, arms splayed, snoring lightly. Danny turned the body, lifted the shirt and frowned. The thick ace-bandage-like covering would have to be removed to get ice on the injury. He saw the clips and took them out, carefully rolling the dozing man.

Martin never stirred as a cold pack from his freezer was placed on his side. He slept through the thirty-minute treatment and the quilt being pulled up after. He didn't hear the door close and lock. He didn't hear the stillness of the night, broken only by the ticking clock. The painkillers took him to a black deepness, without dreams. He slept soundly, but his demons weren't done playing yet.