Long Way Down, Final (Continued from chapter six)

Author's Note: Thank you so, so much to everyone who stuck with me…Maple Street, you have been absolutely incredible—the feedback and encouragement mean more than I could ever say.

Wellington's campus was eerily still, deserted and silent without even the slightest breeze to alleviate the emptiness with a stirring or scattering of leaves. Amelia Sachs glanced around for a moment before returning her attention to Lincoln Rhyme and the scene before them.

"You and me, Sachs," he murmured, before they began.

The scene was the same as she remembered, a gleaming silver box banked by a line of trees on both sides. Rhyme remained silent, quick eyes taking in every inch, every dimension.

They moved slowly around the box, and Amelia could sense Rhyme's frustration even before he spoke.

"He's an amateur, Sachs." Rhyme's voice was harsh. "There's got to be something."

Further examination gleaned nothing, however, and Rhyme and Sachs were forced to continue down the path Amelia had searched that same morning.

When they reached the branch Sachs had broken to retrieve the piece of Under Armor, Rhyme braked to an abrupt halt.

"Damn," he spat, but his dark eyes were alighted.

"Agent Spade said the Under Armor probably came from the upper back," Lincoln explained. "If she's right, we can make a guess about height, based on the height of the branch. It won't be completely accurate-" and Lincoln Rhyme looked severely irritated about this fact - "but it'll be close."

Without any instruction, Sachs stepped between the criminalist and the tree, twisting her body so that the branch was aimed at her back.

Tall, willowy Amelia stood at five feet, eleven inches, and the broken branch was directed at her mid-back.

Rhyme's eyes took her in and then slid closed, measuring, figuring, imagining, until an answer worked its way to the surface.

"Five feet, six inches." Lincoln nodded firmly. "Approximately, of course."

"Of course," Amelia agreed.

They continued on, silence only deepening with the path. The feeling of solitude that had overwhelmed Amelia Sachs at the scene earlier that day was mitigated by Rhyme's strong presence at her side, yet she couldn't help the shiver that ran down her spine when she glanced over her shoulder at the line of trees that appeared to be steadily closing them in.

Upon reaching the metal gate separating the path from a small back road, the pair stopped.

"I dusted for prints and examined the latch for trace," Sachs told Rhyme before shaking her head. "The gate is here for cars, not people, and there was no evidence of a vehicle on the path. The perp probably didn't bother with it; it's easy enough to slip through on the side. Less time consuming, too."

A disgruntled Lincoln Rhyme nodded his reluctant assent. "It's a good point, Sachs." His voice was subdued but, as Amelia had learned, when it came to crime scenes he never stayed that way for long.

"Let's head to the southern entrance, E-3. Found traces of cement dust there, too; maybe we can make a connection."

They walked in contemplative quiet for a moment, before Sachs, compulsively scratching at her red waves, spoke.

"Samantha said she and Jack are going to take a look at the surveillance tapes in the security office. Wouldn't hurt to let them know that the perp is probably around five six."

"It'll hurt if they decide to focus on height only. Particularly a height that we're not certain about," Lincoln Rhyme grumbled.

"C'mon, Rhyme. They're not so bad."

Rhyme arched an eyebrow at Sachs's assessment before nodding his head in grudging agreement.

"The office should be coming up..here."

Lincoln was quietly pleased to note that the security base was equipped with a wheelchair ramp, though he chose not to voice the sentiment. With Amelia at his side, the two stepped through the main doors and found themselves in a large lobby, being scrutinized by a middle-aged, dark-haired woman peering over a smooth wooden desk.

"Can I help you?"

Sachs noted that the woman's voice held only mild curiosity, and she therefore didn't need to be subjected to the ever impatient, acerbic Rhyme, so Amelia fielded the question herself.

"I'm Officer Sachs, and this is Lincoln Rhyme. We're here investigating Kerry Glenn's disappearance, and we'll need to see the main security office."

The woman nodded. "Right. The FBI is here, too," she said off-handily, leading them down a small hallway to a closed wooden door.

Nathan Miller looked mildly surprised to see Jack and Samantha standing in the doorway of the security mainframe, but he greeted them warmly.

"Welcome back, Agent Malone, Agent Spade. How's the investigation going?"

Neither Jack nor Samantha knew how to answer that question, so both ignored it.

"Security tapes from last night, Mr. Miller; we'll need to see those," Jack requested.

The slim man nodded. "Of course. I don't know how much help they'll be, though; they tape only the main entrance and exit."

Samantha, who had been quietly examining the gray dust gathering on her black shoes, looked up sharply. Her eyes went to Jack, then immediately flew to Nathan Miller, focusing not on his face but on the tiny, white "UA" peeking out from underneath the collar of his dark uniform, and then on the faint gray dust that covered his own black shoes.

Cement dust found at the scene…

We talked a few times...

"How do you know those entrances won't be helpful, Mr. Miller?"

The room fell still. Before either Samantha or Jack could make a move, the door to the security office swung open, and Amelia Sachs stepped inside.

"NO!" Samantha barely realized that the desperate word had come from her when Nathan Miller seized Amelia, brandishing a gleaming silver knife he'd drawn from his pocket. In the doorway sat Lincoln Rhyme, unable to move or breathe, watching his Sachs immobilized not by a crushed vertebra but by the unnaturally strong, slender arms of this frantic, furious security officer.

A security officer who looked to stand approximately five feet, six inches.

When you move...

Even strong Amelia Sachs was no match for wiry Nathan Miller. The harder she struggled, the tighter he held her, the closer he pushed the blade of the knife to her neck.

By this time, Jack and Samantha had drawn their weapons, aiming them at the guard, but it was no use; he used Sachs as a shield and her tall frame almost completely blockaded him from view.

"You don't want to do that, Nathan," Jack spoke without moving his gun, his gaze trained on the young man.

"Why the hell not?" Nathan Miller's voice was steady even as he adjusted his grip across the red-haired woman.

"Because this has nothing to do with Amelia."

Lincoln Rhyme looked back and forth between the agents and Amelia Sachs, frustratingly unable to bleed the tension that gathered inside of him, unable to experience his rapidly increasing heart rate or feel the sickening weight he knew was gathering in the pit of his stomach. He settled, then, for meeting and holding Sachs's gaze, and amidst the anxious fear in her steel eyes he also saw a flash of understanding. Fast and fierce, moving and driving, the woman who lived for motion was now utterly incapable of it, and she'd never come closer to knowing what he knew.

For that alone, for forcing her to experience the world he weathered, Rhyme would have found a way to aim at Nathan Miller and pull the trigger, had the gun been in his own hands.

You and me, Sachs…

"It has nothing to do with her," Samantha repeated, willing her voice to remain calm. She had no idea if the man was even listening. Swallowing hard, she spoke again. "This is about Kerry Glenn, Nathan."

"Stop it! You don't know anything about her," the guard raged, pulling Amelia Sachs more firmly to him. "I know her. She told me everything. She trusts me."

A huge mistake…

"Where is she, Nathan?" Jack tightened the grip on his weapon just as Nathan Miller tightened his hold on the red-haired officer.

"She's safe," he snapped. "She's safe and she's happy. She wasn't happy here. She was lonely and scared. When we talked…she was happy. She wants to be a mother, you know. I bet you didn't know that. I'm going to help her."
Oh no. No…

The first image she'd ever seen of Kerry Glenn flashed in Samantha's mind, and her heart quietly broke for the young woman whose innocence had been stolen too many times. Then…

Samantha looked intently at Amelia Sachs, offering a silent apology before speaking.

"Amelia wants to be a mother, too," Samantha told Nathan Miller, keeping her tone light, conversational. "She's a lot like Kerry."
Jack's gaze had flicked from Nathan to Samantha, but she kept hers trained on the young guard who now appeared to be listening intently.

"They both like to move fast. That's how you met Kerry, right? She was running? They both like to move and they both want to be mothers."
By now, a force of security guards and uniformed officers had gathered just outside the door, but Jack shook his head and they stayed, waiting for a signal.

"We know you wouldn't hurt Kerry, Nathan. We just need to find her, that's all."

"She trusts me. She loves me…" was Nathan's whispered response.

"Of course." Samantha's voice was soft, assuring. "Come on, Nathan. I know you don't want to hurt Amelia anymore than you want to hurt Kerry." She held her breath as Nathan Miller seemed to tighten his hold on Sachs before his grip fell slack and he released the red-haired woman.

She practically fell onto Lincoln Rhyme, burying her head in his shoulder as Jack and Samantha held onto Nathan long enough for a uniformed officer to handcuff the slender man.

Amelia Sachs gripped Lincoln's shoulder, his neck, his shirt…anything she could grab hold of, as a shudder passed through her. A small drop of blood fell from her neck to his chest, and he leaned his head against hers, the only comforting gesture he could perform.

Oh Rhyme…

Incapable of motion only a few seconds earlier, Sachs was now just as incapable of speech, but as Jack and Samantha moved to follow Nathan Miller and the officers out of the small security room, she stood, uncertain for a second before wrapping Samantha in a grateful hug.

"Thank you…"

Samantha smiled through the tears that had gathered in her dark eyes, grasping Amelia's shoulder and nodding.

"Yes, uh-" Rhyme cleared his throat, directing his words to the agents. "Thank you both."

Samantha and Jack exchanged a quick smile.

"Anytime, Lincoln. Thanks for all your help," Jack nodded to the other man, who replied with a quirk of his lips.

"Let's go get her, Jack."
With that, the agents stepped from the office.

Alone for the moment, Sachs again dropped to Lincoln Rhyme's chair, hugging him hard.

"Love you," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. He responded by brushing his lips against her forehead and telling her he loved her, too.

A beat of silence, then Sachs broke into a shaky grin.

"Told you they weren't so bad."

Per information Nathan Miller had reluctantly disclosed, Jack and Samantha found Kerry Glenn locked in a small room in his basement. She was bound at the wrists and ankles, and a loose rope tied around her torso kept her against the filthy wall. She sat on an old mattress, tape covering her mouth, wearing the clothes Erin Spencer had described; green shorts and a white t-shirt. As they had from the start, Kerry Glenn's eyes grabbed Samantha's attention first. Dull and listless when the agents entered the room, they gleamed with a sparkling hope as she slowly realized who they were.

Kerry nearly fell into Jack's arms when she was untied, her legs shaking from their constriction. It was over an hour before the girl found her voice, and even then the agents questioned carefully.

Her account matched Nathan Miller's almost perfectly, Samantha noted. She'd been running, and, in a rather jumpy mood, pressed the emergency call button. Nothing specific had triggered her edginess, Kerry recalled. She'd spoken to Nathan over the intercom, and he promised to send someone to walk her to her dorm. Ten minutes later…Kerry shook her head as tears gathered in her eyes. Ten minutes later, she'd been accosted by the same man who assured her protection, who she thought of as a friend, who had never offered anything but quiet comfort.

I told him because I thought I could trust him and because I wanted to. Because I needed to.

Dragged down a dark path, locked in the trunk of his car for over forty-five minutes until his shift ended, and when they had reached his house…

The tears overflowed, sobs escaping Kerry Glenn's thin body in large, heaving gasps. Her hands were balled into fists and she pressed them to her face as Samantha stroked her hair gently.

He kept telling me he loved me, that he was helping me. Oh God…

They had all they needed, and neither agent was willing to push the terrified, fragile young woman any further. Leaving her in the care of Carley Nawa and Erin Spencer, who had arrived first at the NYPD office, Jack and Samantha retreated to their vehicle.

Sitting quietly in the lot, Jack watched Samantha in concern. Pale and shaking slightly, she sat with her hands clenched in fists identical to Kerry Glenn's.

He had no words of comfort to offer, no adage to take away the crushing pain breaking over her.

"Sam…" her name caught in his throat as she turned devastated dark eyes to meet his. She bit her lip, a final line of defense before the tears spilled over, soaking her cheeks and shirt.

"Oh God, Jack, I don't know if I can take this." It was a quiet admission, but Samantha's face held only raw honesty as she gazed up at him.

They were in full view of the NYPD office, but somehow that barely registered in Jack's mind as he touched Samantha's shoulder, pulling her into a gentle embrace. She buried her head in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her back, offering silent comfort; the only kind that would soothe away pain this deep.

"It's okay. It'll be okay, Sam." He murmured the words repeatedly against her soft blonde hair, and eventually he heard her sobs quiet, felt her tense body relax against him as she nodded into his chest.

It's a long way down, but it'll be okay.

[end]