This is it: this is finally the end. It's not quite the ending I'd like it
to be, but it's what happened. I DO lurk around Maple Street, and I thank
you VERY much for all the kind words and encouragement you guys give.
You're wonderful.
Disclaimer: see chapter 4.
Chapter 5
-10 DAYS Missing
Finding Nancy Thatcher proved more difficult than any of the team had anticipated. Dana Webster had said that Nancy was methodical and organized; when it came to making herself scarce, it was obviously true. The woman had withdrawn eight thousand dollars in cash from her savings shortly before she'd disappeared. Using the cash rather than her credit cards made her extremely difficult to trace.
Details on Nancy and Shelly, and a description of Nancy's blue 1999 convertible Mustang and its licence plate number had been passed on to police forces nation-wide. As Martin said, though, finding someone that way was always a bit of a skeet shoot - a little more hit and miss than they'd have liked. Samantha continued to check daily for credit card activity, just in case. Nothing - not even a phone call, however, had provided them with a lead they could work on.
Shelly and Nancy were not their only concern, though. The team still regularly revisited the case, but after ten days with no new leads, other cases had taken their attention. Thus it was that Jack Malone's mind was on their latest missing person as he strode purposefully into his office, sat down at his desk, and dialed in for his voice mail. He listened, casually taking notes. On the third message, he sat up and began to write with more animation, his pen making harsh scraping noises as it rushed across the notepad. Disconnecting after the voice finished, he then lifted the receiver and punched in a phone number. Following the usual switchboard maneuverings, he was put through to a Lieutenant Henninger of the Kissamee Police Force. After speaking with him briefly, Jack made one more call, which he ended with a hurried, "We'll worry about that later. Book whatever you can and leave a message here to let me know what you find."
That done, he left his office in search of Samantha.
He found her at her desk. "Danny and Martin are out working the Ricardo case, so you're the first to know," he said, walking up behind her. As Samantha pushed her chair away from her desk and turned to look up at him, he told her, "Nancy Thatcher is in Florida. She has a girl with her matching Shelly's description. Want to take another plane ride?"
She smiled her happy surprise. "You know I do." She looked at her desk. "I'll have to square things up with Vivian. Are they in custody?" she asked, gathering up some papers.
"No. She and Shelly are staying at a motel in Kissamme. I told the police to just keep an eye on them; Shelly's in no danger and I'd like to talk to them before they do the police and flashing lights thing. After that, the Kissamee police can do what they need to do." Glancing at his watch, he told her, "You've got twenty minutes before we have to leave for the airport; we're catching the 10:25. I booked us already."
* * *
Little more than four hours later, they drove into the parking lot of the Sunset Motel where police had told them Nancy and Shelly were staying. It was your typical stucco sided, two story motel, but with a difference: in homage no doubt to its name, the motel had been painted a pale blue and sported burgundy doors and orange trim around the windows. Yellow shutters adorned the top floor windows. Metal railing were painted red. All the colours of sunset were there, but it was one nightmare of a one.
Resisting the urge to comment on the colour scheme, Samantha looked around the parking lot for Nancy's blue mustang and commented, "They must still be at the water park." Nancy and Shelly had gone to one, the police had informed them, early that morning. A watch was being kept on their car.
"Let's go check the front desk," Jack said, opening his car door.
They quickly ascertained from the gum-chewing young woman sitting behind the reception desk that Nancy had booked and paid for the next two nights. A quick flip of their badges allowed them a look into the room, which confirmed that their luggage was still there. Safe in the assumption that their quarry would be returning, they walked back to their car to wait.
At 3:00 p.m., a blue mustang convertible with its top down entered the parking lot and smoothly pulled into an empty space in front of Room 103. They were sure it was Nancy driving, but her hair was cut shorter and was no longer the dark brown they had seen in her photographs. Now, it was dyed a distinctive red colour - a shade close enough to Shelly's that, if you were going by hair alone, would help you assume she was related to Shelly, if not actually her mother.
They watched as the two got out of the car. Nancy went around to the trunk and pulled out a couple bags, one of which was a large, pink mesh affair filled with what looked like wet towels. After slamming the lid down, she passed Shelly a bright yellow plastic shopping bag. Squealing with delight, the red haired girl opened it, reached in, and pulled out a stuffed Pluto dog. She stood and hugged it against herself while the older woman smiled at her reaction. Then, glancing briefly around the parking area, she moved to stand in front of their door, rummaging in her purse for their room key.
From their vantage point several spots away and parallel to the line of cars parked directly in front of the motel doors, Samantha observed, "Nancy looks a little tired."
"Must be guilt," Jack grunted. "Kidnapping a friend's kid is a pretty drastic thing to do, even if you do think it's for the best."
"Or it could be because they've spent the day at the water park," Samantha shot back in Nancy's defence. Somewhat surprised by Jack's comment, she continued, "She felt she did what she needed to do. I don't think she thought she had any alternative."
Jack shrugged. "There are always alternatives, you just have to be willing to consider them. We'll know her story soon enough." When the two had gone into their room, closing the burgundy door behind them, he asked, "Ready?"
When she nodded, he swung his car door open.
* * *
They waited only a moment until Nancy answered the door. When she saw the two agents standing there, a shadow passed over her face and she took a step backwards.
"You found us," she said, not having to ask who they were or why they were there.
Jack nodded. "Not that you made it easy, Ms. Thatcher. I'm Special Agent Jack Malone, and this is Special Agent Samantha Spade." Flashing his badge, he added. "It's time for Shelly to go home."
She moved forward into the doorway. "You don't-".
"We know why you took her," Samantha said gently. "We know about her father."
Nancy looked at them blankly a moment, assimilating Samantha's words. "You know," she said finally, looking back and forth between the two agents. Her face a mix of relief and surprise, she collected herself enough to open the door wider, allowing them into the darkened room.
Shelly, sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of the television, looked at them curiously as they entered. Quickly, Nancy told her, "We've got a little change in plans, sweetie. These people have come to talk to me for a bit." Glancing at Jack and Samantha, she said, "They know why you're with me, and it's going to be okay." Moving to get her purse, she took out her wallet. "Why don't you go pick up a snack? You can play a couple video games on the machines in the lobby, too."
Shelly nodded. Eyeing the two agents warily, she unfolded her long legs and got off the bed. She carefully placed the stuffed Pluto dog she'd been holding beside the television, accepted the money Nancy held out to her, and moved towards the door. Once there, she turned around and asked, "You sure you're okay, Aunt Nancy?"
Nancy smiled at her. "I'm sure. You go. Give us twenty minutes or so, okay? Then we'll all talk."
The girl nodded, and with one last glance at the agents, left, closing the door quietly behind her.
A small, veneer-topped table sat against one beige wall, a chair on each side of it. Nancy indicated the chairs with a wave of her hand. "Please, have a seat." While they arranged themselves, she turned off the television, then moved to open the dark grey curtains, allowing a flood of white Florida light into the room. Gathering up a gray upholstered chair, she slid it towards them and sat down. After regarding them silently a moment, she said, "I was being very careful: where did I slip up?"
"You didn't, not really," Jack told her. "The police ran your plate through their data base while they were doing surveillance for another case. When it came up, they contacted us, and here we are."
"And here we are," she echoed, still seeming slightly bemused that they were there. Remembering her earlier comment to Shelly, she ran slender fingers through her coloured hair and visibly gathered herself together. "And you know why I took her."
Both agents nodded, but Jack told her, "We'd like to hear your version."
"I couldn't stand by and watch it happen all over again," she said, raising her eyes to meet theirs as though that explained it all.
"What happen again?" Jack asked.
"I know what he did to Rebecca. He told her if she ever said anything, he'd say she initiated everything. He was the favoured older son and, in her eyes, an adult. She knew no one would believe her: she saw the reaction from her parents when she tried to hint about what he was doing. I told her she was crazy, that she had to tell someone, but she wouldn't. I was a kid, and no one was likely to believe me, were they? Not if she wouldn't back me up."
"You're talking about Murray Smith?"
She nodded.
"And she confided in you at the time?"
She shook her head. "It'd been going on for a while before she said something. When she did, she swore me to secrecy, and I was young and stupid enough to keep that promise. When she graduated and moved out, I thought it was all over. No more guilt to live with."
"Until you met Shelly."
She nodded. "Then I got scared all over again. I mean, he may have gotten over it, you know? He'd married, right? But maybe not. I liked Monica, so we just kept in touch. It made me feel better to know I was kinda keeping an eye out, and I knew Rebecca wanted me to, even if she didn't say much. Then, when Shelly got older..."
"Why didn't you say something to Monica?"
A look of helpless anger crossed Nancy's face. "What good would that do? Rebecca's parents must have suspected something, but they did nothing. How did I know Monica wouldn't be just like that? With Murray, she has a whole support system at stake. She's a nice woman, but not strong. I couldn't trust her not to tell herself is wasn't happening, even though it was." She shook her head and stared at the wall, her mind's eye looking into the past. "He was always so good to Rebecca while he was using her. It made my skin crawl. I could see him doing the same thing with Shelly. No one would have believed it. Monica would have fallen for anything he told her, and I probably wouldn't have been allowed to see Shelly at all. Then who would have looked out for her?" She stopped, obviously upset, then continued, "You know, at first, he told Rebecca it was what brothers and sisters did together. How sick is that? Later, he just threatened her. I couldn't let him do the same sort of thing to Shelly."
"You never considered going to the authorities?" Jack asked.
Her face showed her disillusionment with that idea. "I considered it, yes. I called one of those help lines to find out how things worked. I was told someone from Children's Aid would be sent to the home to investigate. That meant I'd have to wait for him to actually do something to her if I wanted proof. I couldn't let things go that far. I wanted to stop him before he did something, not after."
"So, based purely on your opinion of what he might do, you kidnapped a friend's daughter?"
"I did what needed to be done," she retorted firmly. "Shelly told me he'd started coming in to tuck her in at night when Monica wasn't home in the evening. He'd started talking to her about growing up. I knew. I just knew it was starting." She stopped, then looked at them steadily. "That's when I knew what I needed to do. There was no doubt in my mind at all."
There was a moment of silence, then she made a frustrated movement with her hands. "I stood by and did nothing once. I let it happen, and I swore I never would again."
Again she stopped. Looking at her hands for a moment, their continued silence encouraged her to ask, "You said you knew why I took her. How did you find out? Did Rebecca finally say something?"
Samantha shook her head. "No. He was found in a compromising situation with an underage girl. Ms. Smith has said nothing. Mr. Smith is admitting nothing."
Nancy sat back in her chair. "But there's proof he's sick. You can keep him away from her."
Both agents nodded.
She looked at them. Finding the reassurance she needed in their eyes, she leaned back. "It's really over, then."
There was another moment's silence. "I suppose I should be asking what's going to happen to me," Nancy said into it. Jack could feel Samantha's gaze as he said, "That remains to be seen, Ms. Thatcher. Kidnapping is a serious offence."
"But there were mitigating circumstances," Samantha hastened to put in. "You'll have to wait and see."
Nancy nodded. Looking up, she held Jack's eyes fiercely. "Whatever the consequences are for this, I stand by what I did. Shelly knows why she's been with me. She'd never have agreed if she hadn't known there was a danger for her. We were just waiting for the right time to let Monica know where she was."
A soft knock on the door interrupted further conversation.
"Time to talk with Shelly," Jack said, "then we'll get you back to New York. Shelly's mother is looking forward to seeing her again."
* * *
Epilogue: It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over....
Shelly and Nancy had left, along with a representative of the Kissamee police force, on a 4:15 Delta flight. Monica Smith had been contacted with confirmation of her daughter's return and would be at the airport to meet them.
As the travel agent had warned him earlier that day, Jack and Samantha had several hours before they could leave. Only a cancellation on the 9:15 flight had got them seats out at all.
"I miss the days when we could just bump someone if we were on official business," Jack grumbled. He also missed the days they stayed over just for the enjoyment of being together, but he could not say that.
"Well, if this was an emergency, we could," Samantha said reasonably. With a hint of humour, she added, "You'd have a hard time convincing them your wanting to get back to the office was one, though."
The Kissamme police had blown their chances of a real excuse when they'd insisted that they should be the ones handing Nancy over to the NYPD. Jack, when he'd been told, had snorted and told Samantha, "They just want an excuse for a trip to New York." Perhaps he was right. In any event, they were out one good excuse to bump regular citizens from their seats. A pity, perhaps, but there was one compensation...
He paused a moment, looking at her intently. In a softer voice, he said, "It looks as though I've been provided an excellent opportunity to take you to dinner."
She raised an eyebrow and tried not to show the effect his stare had on her pulse rate. "Know any place good?"
He smiled a half smile and nodded. "It just so happens I do."
* * *
Samantha looked around the dining room with satisfaction. The place Jack had chosen was small and private, its darkened interior candlelit and intimate. Along the left and back walls were cloth-covered tables for two, most of them set in small alcoves. Larger tables were scattered in the middle of the room, with a few strategically placed potted trees interspersed amongst them. Overhead, huge fans turned languidly, making their foliage shiver. An impressive, dark mahogany bar ran along the right wall of the restaurant with glasses and bottles of various shape, size, and colour gleaming on glass shelves behind it. A half dozen or so of the bar stools in front of it held quietly conversing patrons.
After being seated by a friendly waiter dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, she examined the other diners and immediately felt underdressed.
Jack watched her, his eyes dark. "Stop it," he said, "You look beautiful."
She smiled at him, relaxing. "You say the nicest things."
He smiled in return. "I'm not original, but I'm honest."
Their eyes locked, then slid away as they found themselves unable to deal with the intensity of what had again sprung between them. Jack cleared his throat and began to talk about the day. They conversed a while, Jack finally saying, "It was pretty obvious where your sympathies lay. My God, Sam. Telling her she'd likely only be charged with public mischief? Kidnapping is the more appropriate charge, and you know it."
Samantha felt her dander rise. "In this case? Come on, Jack. You know it'd never stick. You spoke to Martin; you know the mother's reaction. She'll never press charges."
The waiter arrived, interrupting their conversation. Once they'd placed their order and he'd left, they resumed where they'd left off: "But charges could still be laid, and kidnapping's the offence she committed," Jack insisted.
"That would be the wrong thing to do. She doesn't deserve that."
"I don't see why not."
Samantha's eyes flashed at his stubbornness and she placed a hand on the table. Making her point by tapping her forefinger in counterpoint to her words, she said, "Circumstances. You're forgetting mitigating circumstances. You don't really think-"
A warm hand covered hers, and she stopped abruptly.
"No, Sam, I don't." She stilled, her eyes falling from his smile to settle on the table where his thumb had begun to draw lazy circles on the top of her hand. Silence hung between them, still and intense, lingering deliciously around them like mist. The mood so suddenly changed, they sat a while, wordlessly examining his thumb's movements. Searching for words, Samantha finally asked in a small voice, "What are we going to do, Jack?"
The loneliness in her words leapt up to meet with his. He waited a moment before answering, concentrating on the feel of her flesh beneath his thumb. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I'm not sure what's right any more."
He gripped her hand tightly. He'd given her up, had ended their affair. For the sake of his family. For the sake of both their careers.
He couldn't let her go completely, though.
"It's okay," Samantha said softly. "There's time. I'll be here."
"That's not fair to you."
"And it is for you? You're in a no win situation, Jack; I recognise that. It must be hell, and I hate that there's nothing that I can do to help except wait on the sidelines and try not to make things worse for you." She smiled sadly. "Believe me, being the little woman waiting in the wings ain't my idea of what a modern woman should be doing."
He shook his head. "You shouldn't be putting your life on hold. You could find someone else, someone more suitable: younger, better looking, saner profession..."
She tilted her head to one side and regarded him steadily. Slowly, she said, "You don't really want me to do that."
He met her gaze, saw the confidence there. No, he admitted to her silently, he didn't. He wanted her in his life, not someone else's. Never someone else's. He wanted her in his life the way she had been and could be no longer. In his arms...in his bed...
"No," he admitted aloud. "Not really."
"And besides," she said honestly, "I know what I want, and I want you, not someone else. I was perfectly happy with what we had; the affair worked for me. The awful thing is that it didn't work for you. And," she said, still honest, "maybe there would have come a time when it didn't work so well for me, I suppose." She gave him a half smile and admitted, "I'm greedy. I'd have started to want more, probably. You did the right thing. This is the honest thing to do. You have to try with Maria, and we have to try to see if we can get over whatever it is that's going on between us."
She regarded him with dark eyes, knowing there was no way in hell she was likely to get over whatever it was that was between them. She'd say what needed to be said, though, and do what needed to be done to make things easier for him. Her head, after all, was perfectly capable of rational thought, it was just the rest of her - her heart, her body and her soul - that was a mess when it came to Jack Malone.
Silence stretched out between them. Finally, Jack said quietly, "It's been months, Sam. I'm not getting over it. Are you?"
She closed her eyes. There was the admission she'd longed for. It wasn't over. For either of them.
He moved slightly in his seat, reaching further across the table to take her hand in both of his. Earnestly, he explained, "I want things to work out with Maria because that's the way I was brought up; that's the way it's supposed to work: guy grows up, marries, has a couple wonderful kids...he meets someone else and he screws up, but he goes back to his wife and they fix things up and they all live happily ever after. That's how it's supposed to be, right? And that's how it'd work out best for Katie and Hannah. It's the sensible scenario, the scenario that's best for them, but in the back of my mind, you're always there, Sam, even when I'm thinking about my duty as a husband and father."
He needed her in a way he couldn't explain, in a way he didn't understand. She'd brought life and energy into his life, along with comfort and confidence. She'd brought a kind of companionship and, yes, a love into his life he hadn't known existed, and he didn't want to lose it. Was afraid of losing it.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
Her heart aching for him, Samantha thought a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Jack, give it time. At some point it's going to be obvious what needs to be done because we won't be able to do anything else. We're just not at that point yet."
"I don't know what to say."
She smiled and turned her hand over to curl her fingers into his. Loving him, she said, "Of course you don't. I don't know what to say, either, not really. I'm just babbling. Maybe nothing needs to be said just yet."
One thing, he knew did: "I love you."
The gruffly spoken words held an unspoken plea that touched her heart. She tightened her grip on his hand. "I know. But it's more complicated than that."
"So we just go on the way we are."
Knowing it was what he needed to hear, she nodded. "For now, I think that's what's needed."
He felt a sense of gratitude. When they had begun their affair, she had been what he'd needed, and that hadn't changed. But he needed his daughters, too, and they needed an intact family. Though he couldn't have explained it in words, on some subconscious level he recognised that he and Maria were good parents, if not loving partners. Until the latter affected the former, he felt he needed to hang in, at least for a while.
It meant setting aside the woman sitting across from him.
For a while.
And she was allowing him this time. He felt a weight ease off his shoulders. They were no closer to being happy, perhaps, than they had been when they'd entered the restaurant, but she had given him what he'd needed: time.
The waiter arrived and quietly placed their dinner on the table. They smiled at each other companionably and began to eat. Samantha had seen a movie she thought he should see...
End What's Needed
Disclaimer: see chapter 4.
Chapter 5
-10 DAYS Missing
Finding Nancy Thatcher proved more difficult than any of the team had anticipated. Dana Webster had said that Nancy was methodical and organized; when it came to making herself scarce, it was obviously true. The woman had withdrawn eight thousand dollars in cash from her savings shortly before she'd disappeared. Using the cash rather than her credit cards made her extremely difficult to trace.
Details on Nancy and Shelly, and a description of Nancy's blue 1999 convertible Mustang and its licence plate number had been passed on to police forces nation-wide. As Martin said, though, finding someone that way was always a bit of a skeet shoot - a little more hit and miss than they'd have liked. Samantha continued to check daily for credit card activity, just in case. Nothing - not even a phone call, however, had provided them with a lead they could work on.
Shelly and Nancy were not their only concern, though. The team still regularly revisited the case, but after ten days with no new leads, other cases had taken their attention. Thus it was that Jack Malone's mind was on their latest missing person as he strode purposefully into his office, sat down at his desk, and dialed in for his voice mail. He listened, casually taking notes. On the third message, he sat up and began to write with more animation, his pen making harsh scraping noises as it rushed across the notepad. Disconnecting after the voice finished, he then lifted the receiver and punched in a phone number. Following the usual switchboard maneuverings, he was put through to a Lieutenant Henninger of the Kissamee Police Force. After speaking with him briefly, Jack made one more call, which he ended with a hurried, "We'll worry about that later. Book whatever you can and leave a message here to let me know what you find."
That done, he left his office in search of Samantha.
He found her at her desk. "Danny and Martin are out working the Ricardo case, so you're the first to know," he said, walking up behind her. As Samantha pushed her chair away from her desk and turned to look up at him, he told her, "Nancy Thatcher is in Florida. She has a girl with her matching Shelly's description. Want to take another plane ride?"
She smiled her happy surprise. "You know I do." She looked at her desk. "I'll have to square things up with Vivian. Are they in custody?" she asked, gathering up some papers.
"No. She and Shelly are staying at a motel in Kissamme. I told the police to just keep an eye on them; Shelly's in no danger and I'd like to talk to them before they do the police and flashing lights thing. After that, the Kissamee police can do what they need to do." Glancing at his watch, he told her, "You've got twenty minutes before we have to leave for the airport; we're catching the 10:25. I booked us already."
* * *
Little more than four hours later, they drove into the parking lot of the Sunset Motel where police had told them Nancy and Shelly were staying. It was your typical stucco sided, two story motel, but with a difference: in homage no doubt to its name, the motel had been painted a pale blue and sported burgundy doors and orange trim around the windows. Yellow shutters adorned the top floor windows. Metal railing were painted red. All the colours of sunset were there, but it was one nightmare of a one.
Resisting the urge to comment on the colour scheme, Samantha looked around the parking lot for Nancy's blue mustang and commented, "They must still be at the water park." Nancy and Shelly had gone to one, the police had informed them, early that morning. A watch was being kept on their car.
"Let's go check the front desk," Jack said, opening his car door.
They quickly ascertained from the gum-chewing young woman sitting behind the reception desk that Nancy had booked and paid for the next two nights. A quick flip of their badges allowed them a look into the room, which confirmed that their luggage was still there. Safe in the assumption that their quarry would be returning, they walked back to their car to wait.
At 3:00 p.m., a blue mustang convertible with its top down entered the parking lot and smoothly pulled into an empty space in front of Room 103. They were sure it was Nancy driving, but her hair was cut shorter and was no longer the dark brown they had seen in her photographs. Now, it was dyed a distinctive red colour - a shade close enough to Shelly's that, if you were going by hair alone, would help you assume she was related to Shelly, if not actually her mother.
They watched as the two got out of the car. Nancy went around to the trunk and pulled out a couple bags, one of which was a large, pink mesh affair filled with what looked like wet towels. After slamming the lid down, she passed Shelly a bright yellow plastic shopping bag. Squealing with delight, the red haired girl opened it, reached in, and pulled out a stuffed Pluto dog. She stood and hugged it against herself while the older woman smiled at her reaction. Then, glancing briefly around the parking area, she moved to stand in front of their door, rummaging in her purse for their room key.
From their vantage point several spots away and parallel to the line of cars parked directly in front of the motel doors, Samantha observed, "Nancy looks a little tired."
"Must be guilt," Jack grunted. "Kidnapping a friend's kid is a pretty drastic thing to do, even if you do think it's for the best."
"Or it could be because they've spent the day at the water park," Samantha shot back in Nancy's defence. Somewhat surprised by Jack's comment, she continued, "She felt she did what she needed to do. I don't think she thought she had any alternative."
Jack shrugged. "There are always alternatives, you just have to be willing to consider them. We'll know her story soon enough." When the two had gone into their room, closing the burgundy door behind them, he asked, "Ready?"
When she nodded, he swung his car door open.
* * *
They waited only a moment until Nancy answered the door. When she saw the two agents standing there, a shadow passed over her face and she took a step backwards.
"You found us," she said, not having to ask who they were or why they were there.
Jack nodded. "Not that you made it easy, Ms. Thatcher. I'm Special Agent Jack Malone, and this is Special Agent Samantha Spade." Flashing his badge, he added. "It's time for Shelly to go home."
She moved forward into the doorway. "You don't-".
"We know why you took her," Samantha said gently. "We know about her father."
Nancy looked at them blankly a moment, assimilating Samantha's words. "You know," she said finally, looking back and forth between the two agents. Her face a mix of relief and surprise, she collected herself enough to open the door wider, allowing them into the darkened room.
Shelly, sitting cross-legged on the bed in front of the television, looked at them curiously as they entered. Quickly, Nancy told her, "We've got a little change in plans, sweetie. These people have come to talk to me for a bit." Glancing at Jack and Samantha, she said, "They know why you're with me, and it's going to be okay." Moving to get her purse, she took out her wallet. "Why don't you go pick up a snack? You can play a couple video games on the machines in the lobby, too."
Shelly nodded. Eyeing the two agents warily, she unfolded her long legs and got off the bed. She carefully placed the stuffed Pluto dog she'd been holding beside the television, accepted the money Nancy held out to her, and moved towards the door. Once there, she turned around and asked, "You sure you're okay, Aunt Nancy?"
Nancy smiled at her. "I'm sure. You go. Give us twenty minutes or so, okay? Then we'll all talk."
The girl nodded, and with one last glance at the agents, left, closing the door quietly behind her.
A small, veneer-topped table sat against one beige wall, a chair on each side of it. Nancy indicated the chairs with a wave of her hand. "Please, have a seat." While they arranged themselves, she turned off the television, then moved to open the dark grey curtains, allowing a flood of white Florida light into the room. Gathering up a gray upholstered chair, she slid it towards them and sat down. After regarding them silently a moment, she said, "I was being very careful: where did I slip up?"
"You didn't, not really," Jack told her. "The police ran your plate through their data base while they were doing surveillance for another case. When it came up, they contacted us, and here we are."
"And here we are," she echoed, still seeming slightly bemused that they were there. Remembering her earlier comment to Shelly, she ran slender fingers through her coloured hair and visibly gathered herself together. "And you know why I took her."
Both agents nodded, but Jack told her, "We'd like to hear your version."
"I couldn't stand by and watch it happen all over again," she said, raising her eyes to meet theirs as though that explained it all.
"What happen again?" Jack asked.
"I know what he did to Rebecca. He told her if she ever said anything, he'd say she initiated everything. He was the favoured older son and, in her eyes, an adult. She knew no one would believe her: she saw the reaction from her parents when she tried to hint about what he was doing. I told her she was crazy, that she had to tell someone, but she wouldn't. I was a kid, and no one was likely to believe me, were they? Not if she wouldn't back me up."
"You're talking about Murray Smith?"
She nodded.
"And she confided in you at the time?"
She shook her head. "It'd been going on for a while before she said something. When she did, she swore me to secrecy, and I was young and stupid enough to keep that promise. When she graduated and moved out, I thought it was all over. No more guilt to live with."
"Until you met Shelly."
She nodded. "Then I got scared all over again. I mean, he may have gotten over it, you know? He'd married, right? But maybe not. I liked Monica, so we just kept in touch. It made me feel better to know I was kinda keeping an eye out, and I knew Rebecca wanted me to, even if she didn't say much. Then, when Shelly got older..."
"Why didn't you say something to Monica?"
A look of helpless anger crossed Nancy's face. "What good would that do? Rebecca's parents must have suspected something, but they did nothing. How did I know Monica wouldn't be just like that? With Murray, she has a whole support system at stake. She's a nice woman, but not strong. I couldn't trust her not to tell herself is wasn't happening, even though it was." She shook her head and stared at the wall, her mind's eye looking into the past. "He was always so good to Rebecca while he was using her. It made my skin crawl. I could see him doing the same thing with Shelly. No one would have believed it. Monica would have fallen for anything he told her, and I probably wouldn't have been allowed to see Shelly at all. Then who would have looked out for her?" She stopped, obviously upset, then continued, "You know, at first, he told Rebecca it was what brothers and sisters did together. How sick is that? Later, he just threatened her. I couldn't let him do the same sort of thing to Shelly."
"You never considered going to the authorities?" Jack asked.
Her face showed her disillusionment with that idea. "I considered it, yes. I called one of those help lines to find out how things worked. I was told someone from Children's Aid would be sent to the home to investigate. That meant I'd have to wait for him to actually do something to her if I wanted proof. I couldn't let things go that far. I wanted to stop him before he did something, not after."
"So, based purely on your opinion of what he might do, you kidnapped a friend's daughter?"
"I did what needed to be done," she retorted firmly. "Shelly told me he'd started coming in to tuck her in at night when Monica wasn't home in the evening. He'd started talking to her about growing up. I knew. I just knew it was starting." She stopped, then looked at them steadily. "That's when I knew what I needed to do. There was no doubt in my mind at all."
There was a moment of silence, then she made a frustrated movement with her hands. "I stood by and did nothing once. I let it happen, and I swore I never would again."
Again she stopped. Looking at her hands for a moment, their continued silence encouraged her to ask, "You said you knew why I took her. How did you find out? Did Rebecca finally say something?"
Samantha shook her head. "No. He was found in a compromising situation with an underage girl. Ms. Smith has said nothing. Mr. Smith is admitting nothing."
Nancy sat back in her chair. "But there's proof he's sick. You can keep him away from her."
Both agents nodded.
She looked at them. Finding the reassurance she needed in their eyes, she leaned back. "It's really over, then."
There was another moment's silence. "I suppose I should be asking what's going to happen to me," Nancy said into it. Jack could feel Samantha's gaze as he said, "That remains to be seen, Ms. Thatcher. Kidnapping is a serious offence."
"But there were mitigating circumstances," Samantha hastened to put in. "You'll have to wait and see."
Nancy nodded. Looking up, she held Jack's eyes fiercely. "Whatever the consequences are for this, I stand by what I did. Shelly knows why she's been with me. She'd never have agreed if she hadn't known there was a danger for her. We were just waiting for the right time to let Monica know where she was."
A soft knock on the door interrupted further conversation.
"Time to talk with Shelly," Jack said, "then we'll get you back to New York. Shelly's mother is looking forward to seeing her again."
* * *
Epilogue: It Ain't Over 'Til It's Over....
Shelly and Nancy had left, along with a representative of the Kissamee police force, on a 4:15 Delta flight. Monica Smith had been contacted with confirmation of her daughter's return and would be at the airport to meet them.
As the travel agent had warned him earlier that day, Jack and Samantha had several hours before they could leave. Only a cancellation on the 9:15 flight had got them seats out at all.
"I miss the days when we could just bump someone if we were on official business," Jack grumbled. He also missed the days they stayed over just for the enjoyment of being together, but he could not say that.
"Well, if this was an emergency, we could," Samantha said reasonably. With a hint of humour, she added, "You'd have a hard time convincing them your wanting to get back to the office was one, though."
The Kissamme police had blown their chances of a real excuse when they'd insisted that they should be the ones handing Nancy over to the NYPD. Jack, when he'd been told, had snorted and told Samantha, "They just want an excuse for a trip to New York." Perhaps he was right. In any event, they were out one good excuse to bump regular citizens from their seats. A pity, perhaps, but there was one compensation...
He paused a moment, looking at her intently. In a softer voice, he said, "It looks as though I've been provided an excellent opportunity to take you to dinner."
She raised an eyebrow and tried not to show the effect his stare had on her pulse rate. "Know any place good?"
He smiled a half smile and nodded. "It just so happens I do."
* * *
Samantha looked around the dining room with satisfaction. The place Jack had chosen was small and private, its darkened interior candlelit and intimate. Along the left and back walls were cloth-covered tables for two, most of them set in small alcoves. Larger tables were scattered in the middle of the room, with a few strategically placed potted trees interspersed amongst them. Overhead, huge fans turned languidly, making their foliage shiver. An impressive, dark mahogany bar ran along the right wall of the restaurant with glasses and bottles of various shape, size, and colour gleaming on glass shelves behind it. A half dozen or so of the bar stools in front of it held quietly conversing patrons.
After being seated by a friendly waiter dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, she examined the other diners and immediately felt underdressed.
Jack watched her, his eyes dark. "Stop it," he said, "You look beautiful."
She smiled at him, relaxing. "You say the nicest things."
He smiled in return. "I'm not original, but I'm honest."
Their eyes locked, then slid away as they found themselves unable to deal with the intensity of what had again sprung between them. Jack cleared his throat and began to talk about the day. They conversed a while, Jack finally saying, "It was pretty obvious where your sympathies lay. My God, Sam. Telling her she'd likely only be charged with public mischief? Kidnapping is the more appropriate charge, and you know it."
Samantha felt her dander rise. "In this case? Come on, Jack. You know it'd never stick. You spoke to Martin; you know the mother's reaction. She'll never press charges."
The waiter arrived, interrupting their conversation. Once they'd placed their order and he'd left, they resumed where they'd left off: "But charges could still be laid, and kidnapping's the offence she committed," Jack insisted.
"That would be the wrong thing to do. She doesn't deserve that."
"I don't see why not."
Samantha's eyes flashed at his stubbornness and she placed a hand on the table. Making her point by tapping her forefinger in counterpoint to her words, she said, "Circumstances. You're forgetting mitigating circumstances. You don't really think-"
A warm hand covered hers, and she stopped abruptly.
"No, Sam, I don't." She stilled, her eyes falling from his smile to settle on the table where his thumb had begun to draw lazy circles on the top of her hand. Silence hung between them, still and intense, lingering deliciously around them like mist. The mood so suddenly changed, they sat a while, wordlessly examining his thumb's movements. Searching for words, Samantha finally asked in a small voice, "What are we going to do, Jack?"
The loneliness in her words leapt up to meet with his. He waited a moment before answering, concentrating on the feel of her flesh beneath his thumb. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "I'm not sure what's right any more."
He gripped her hand tightly. He'd given her up, had ended their affair. For the sake of his family. For the sake of both their careers.
He couldn't let her go completely, though.
"It's okay," Samantha said softly. "There's time. I'll be here."
"That's not fair to you."
"And it is for you? You're in a no win situation, Jack; I recognise that. It must be hell, and I hate that there's nothing that I can do to help except wait on the sidelines and try not to make things worse for you." She smiled sadly. "Believe me, being the little woman waiting in the wings ain't my idea of what a modern woman should be doing."
He shook his head. "You shouldn't be putting your life on hold. You could find someone else, someone more suitable: younger, better looking, saner profession..."
She tilted her head to one side and regarded him steadily. Slowly, she said, "You don't really want me to do that."
He met her gaze, saw the confidence there. No, he admitted to her silently, he didn't. He wanted her in his life, not someone else's. Never someone else's. He wanted her in his life the way she had been and could be no longer. In his arms...in his bed...
"No," he admitted aloud. "Not really."
"And besides," she said honestly, "I know what I want, and I want you, not someone else. I was perfectly happy with what we had; the affair worked for me. The awful thing is that it didn't work for you. And," she said, still honest, "maybe there would have come a time when it didn't work so well for me, I suppose." She gave him a half smile and admitted, "I'm greedy. I'd have started to want more, probably. You did the right thing. This is the honest thing to do. You have to try with Maria, and we have to try to see if we can get over whatever it is that's going on between us."
She regarded him with dark eyes, knowing there was no way in hell she was likely to get over whatever it was that was between them. She'd say what needed to be said, though, and do what needed to be done to make things easier for him. Her head, after all, was perfectly capable of rational thought, it was just the rest of her - her heart, her body and her soul - that was a mess when it came to Jack Malone.
Silence stretched out between them. Finally, Jack said quietly, "It's been months, Sam. I'm not getting over it. Are you?"
She closed her eyes. There was the admission she'd longed for. It wasn't over. For either of them.
He moved slightly in his seat, reaching further across the table to take her hand in both of his. Earnestly, he explained, "I want things to work out with Maria because that's the way I was brought up; that's the way it's supposed to work: guy grows up, marries, has a couple wonderful kids...he meets someone else and he screws up, but he goes back to his wife and they fix things up and they all live happily ever after. That's how it's supposed to be, right? And that's how it'd work out best for Katie and Hannah. It's the sensible scenario, the scenario that's best for them, but in the back of my mind, you're always there, Sam, even when I'm thinking about my duty as a husband and father."
He needed her in a way he couldn't explain, in a way he didn't understand. She'd brought life and energy into his life, along with comfort and confidence. She'd brought a kind of companionship and, yes, a love into his life he hadn't known existed, and he didn't want to lose it. Was afraid of losing it.
"I don't know what to do," he admitted.
Her heart aching for him, Samantha thought a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Jack, give it time. At some point it's going to be obvious what needs to be done because we won't be able to do anything else. We're just not at that point yet."
"I don't know what to say."
She smiled and turned her hand over to curl her fingers into his. Loving him, she said, "Of course you don't. I don't know what to say, either, not really. I'm just babbling. Maybe nothing needs to be said just yet."
One thing, he knew did: "I love you."
The gruffly spoken words held an unspoken plea that touched her heart. She tightened her grip on his hand. "I know. But it's more complicated than that."
"So we just go on the way we are."
Knowing it was what he needed to hear, she nodded. "For now, I think that's what's needed."
He felt a sense of gratitude. When they had begun their affair, she had been what he'd needed, and that hadn't changed. But he needed his daughters, too, and they needed an intact family. Though he couldn't have explained it in words, on some subconscious level he recognised that he and Maria were good parents, if not loving partners. Until the latter affected the former, he felt he needed to hang in, at least for a while.
It meant setting aside the woman sitting across from him.
For a while.
And she was allowing him this time. He felt a weight ease off his shoulders. They were no closer to being happy, perhaps, than they had been when they'd entered the restaurant, but she had given him what he'd needed: time.
The waiter arrived and quietly placed their dinner on the table. They smiled at each other companionably and began to eat. Samantha had seen a movie she thought he should see...
End What's Needed