Window, Part 4.

Author's Note: Maple Street rocks harder than any forum, ever. Thank you all so much for the encouragement. "Amazing" doesn't even begin to describe this board. This is set about four months after the previous installment, around mid-August.

Ramona Kendal.

She had one of those names that just rolled off the tongue, and I found myself repeating it idly under my breath while trying to make some sense out of her intricate case.

Twenty years old. Student at Columbia University. Living with her parents for the summer. A beautiful, strong face framed by long black hair. Striking blue eyes.

Missing for thirty-six hours.

I didn't have to look up to know who was approaching. Jack's footfalls on the soft carpet had become as familiar to me as the small office table I was seated at, and I broke into an involuntary smile when he took his place next to me.

"Anything new?" One glance at his frustrated face told me the answer was a negative.

"Nothing." The word was followed by a heavy sigh, and I noticed how tired and drawn he looked.

"The roommates? No help," Danny announced as he and Vivian filed in.

"Neither have spoken to Ramona in over a month," Vivian expanded.

"That's not too unusual, I guess," Jack pointed out. "It's summer. People lose touch."

"What'd you find out at her work?" Danny directed his question to Jack, who shrugged.

"Just confirmation of what we already knew. She left work at nine, and no one has seen her since. No one noticed anything off about her behavior."

"No luck locating the cell phone or car," I supplied.

"And nothing was missing from her house," Vivian added.

"What about bank records?" Jack looked thoughtful.

"That's what I've been trying to figure out." I spread the papers out across the table. "Since the end of May, she's been making relatively small withdrawals, almost weekly. The last withdrawal was four nights ago. Never more than three hundred dollars, and usually less, but it adds up to almost two thousand in cash. With her paychecks being directly deposited, it's almost unnoticeable. It could mean nothing, but if it's significant.." I trailed off as understanding sparked in Jack's eyes.

"She's been planning this since May. Maybe longer." His voice was grim.

Danny looked rather impressed. "That's pretty smart. Small withdrawals over a long period of time, as opposed to one large, obvious withdrawal. Nice catch, Samantha."

"Why would she run off?" Vivian's query settled us into a contemplative silence, and then Jack turned to me.

"This girl. She reminds me of you," he stated bluntly, and I wasn't sure whether or not I should be offended, so I merely waited for him to continue.

"If you were going to take off, would you tell anyone?"

He saw. He saw right through me, and I never had a chance at all.

"A good friend, maybe." I responded, keeping my voice even and my tone mild.

"Parents mentioned an Eric Sullivan," Vivian supplied. "Said he and Ramona have been best friends since elementary school."

"Get an address?" Jack questioned the older woman.

A slight eye roll from Vivian. "What do you think?" I smothered a tiny grin as she handed him a slip of paper. I was still reeling from Jack's spot-on delve into my past, and almost didn't hear him inform me that we were about to pay Eric Sullivan a visit.

Eric Sullivan, a twenty-two year old chef at a local restaurant, lived only fifteen minutes away from Ramona Kendal. Pulling up alongside his moderate sized home, Jack and I found him outside, taking advantage of the gorgeous August weather. He looked up as we approached, and even from a distance I could see anxiety flash across his face.

"He knows something," I murmured to Jack as we crossed the grass, and he responded with an almost imperceptible nod.

"Eric Sullivan?" Jack took command as we reached him, and I used the opportunity to study the man in front of us. Tall, dark blonde hair, green eyes. His face was genial, though at the moment had contorted tensely as he nodded.

"I'm Agent Malone, and this is Agent Spade of the FBI. We're here to ask you some questions about Ramona Kendal."

Some people hide guilt well. Eric Sullivan wasn't one of them. He tried to assume an unaffected expression, but his pain at hearing her name was clear.

"What about Ramona?" He swallowed nervously.

"She's missing, but I think you already knew that," Jack informed the other man.

"What? Missing?"

Eric's attempt at shock was so pathetic I just barely refrained from rolling my eyes all the way into the back of my head.

"Stop with the games, Eric. You're no good at them," I spoke gently, because I didn't really believe he had done anything to harm Ramona.

Eric dropped his head into his hands, and seemed to struggle with himself before speaking again.

"Okay. Okay. She came here, two nights ago. Around 9:15, I guess. God, I was scared. I'd never seen her so..desperate, I guess." Now that Eric had started talking, it didn't seem like he would stop anytime soon. "She asked me..she asked me to hide her car here." He pointed to a garage partially hidden by the house before continuing, "Told me to keep it for a few months, and she'd call when she wanted me to sell it and send her the money. I didn't know what she was thinking. Next thing I know, her car's in my garage and she's in my bathroom, dying her hair this weird light brown shade. 'I have to get away.' She kept repeating that. I couldn't say no to her." Eric stopped abruptly, and I couldn't help feeling sympathy for this man who was so obviously in love with his best friend.

"What happened next?" Jack's voice had softened and lowered, and he took on the soothing tone I'd heard him use with witnesses so often. He had this way of making people feel like if they just told him their secrets, everything would be okay.

God knows it worked on me.

"She left at about ten. On foot. She wouldn't let me drive her anywhere..she wouldn't tell me where she was going, or why." Tears had started to stream down Eric Sullivan's face, and he appeared so much younger than his twenty-two years.

"You don't know where she is?"

"No. God, no. I have no idea."

"Why, Eric? Why do you think she ran off like this?" It had been bothering me ever since I discovered her weekly withdrawals.

"Ramona..I can't really describe her." A small smile from Eric. "She's this..gorgeous, free spirit..really smart and strong, but I always got the feeling.." He trailed off, focusing on a point behind us, on something we couldn't quite see. "She always seemed trapped. Her parents are nice enough, but God, they pressure her so much. School and work, too..it's like everything was so mundane to her. Tedious and frustrating and unimportant. Suffocating. I guess..she couldn't handle it anymore."

"And you don't know where she might have gone?" Jack reiterated his earlier question.

"No. She wouldn't tell me anything. But.." A shock of realization seemed to overcome Eric Sullivan. "But there's a train station about ten minutes from here. Oh, damn.."

Jack and I exchanged glances before turning back to Eric.

"Thank you, Eric." My voice was sincere.

"She's my best friend," Eric spoke suddenly, as we turned to leave. "But I hope you don't find her. Wherever she is..it's better for her." With a slight nod, Eric made his way back to the house.

"We've got to get her car," Jack said, flipping open his cell phone as he made a call to forensics.

"She doesn't want to be found, Jack," I stated quietly after he had closed the phone. He took his eyes off the road long enough to meet my own, and there was a resigned look on his face.

"I know. The ones who want to disappear..they're always the hardest."

"Ramona means 'wise protector'," I looked down at my hands before lifting my gaze. "I wonder who she's protecting?"

After a moment, he answered. "Herself, I think,"

"Eric said she wants to be free. Funny how 'free' and 'lost' seem to mean the same thing in this case," I pondered, resting back against the headrest of my seat.

"The line between those two isn't always clear," Jack agreed.

I turned to regard him, a question forming on my lips.

"Do I still remind you of her?"

There was a long pause, before he nodded.

"You're both smart. Unique. Strong. But most of all.." He pulled into a parking spot at the train station before continuing. "Ramona was trapped. I think you were too."

I closed my eyes against the burning of tears brimming behind my lids, and he spoke again.

"But I think you're free now, Sam." His voice had such a raw, honest quality to it. It soothed and exhilarated and found its way deep inside of me, and looking away was no longer an option. He had the darkest eyes, the darkest eyes I'd ever seen. Like a magnet, they drew me closer.

"Free, or lost?" It was barely a whisper, and I didn't recognize my own voice.

"Free," he answered. "Because if you were lost.." His hand found its way to my cheek, cupping it with an aching tenderness, "I would find you."

I felt his thumb brush against the corner of my lips, before he pulled slowly away, giving me a smile.

"We better get going," and there was no mistaking the reluctance in his otherwise brisk tone.

As we left the car, I couldn't help thinking that for the first time since I'd known him, Jack Malone was dead wrong.

I was lost.

I'd been lost since the day he found me.

TBC…