"Right," I whisper, our gaze penetrating through one another's before
finally breaking away. "Night," I answer softly, heading towards my room
and softly shutting the door most of the way.
***********
I head back to my bed, reading through the files and reports we had faxed over from our NYC office. I feel myself tired with sleep but won't allow myself the pleasure of closing my eyes. If I sleep, it means more time will pass and there'll be less chance of finding Damon. I continue to study the notes and interviews, hoping to piece together where and with whom he might have left.
I let out a soft groan, feeling achy from staring down at the reports and not stretching. My eyes hurt from studying the files and the words become a jumbled blur.
"Sam?" I hear Jack's soft voice, quiet enough not to wake me but loud enough for me to hear. The door squeaks open as he slips through the entranceway between our rooms.
"Just going over stuff."
"It's one in the morning," he eyes the clock. "We'll likely have to get up early as it is. Get some sleep."
"Yeah," I breathe out, not making any attempt to move. My eyes stare down at the files cluttered along the mattress. My neck aches and my eyes hurt from staring at everything for so long.
Jack moves towards my bed and my head finally lolls up to see him helping close and put away the files. "Thanks," I smile softly with a yawn as we put everything on the table.
"You okay?" Once the files are situated, Jack moves back towards my bed, his hand resting on my shoulder.
"Just tired and a little stiff," I answer. "I should be fine by morning."
"Turn around."
"What?" I glance at him with heavy eyes, but do as I'm told.
I feel his hands on my shoulders, gently kneading my flesh. He softly brushes my hair to one side as his hands work on the other, tenderly working on the knots as I softly groan out.
His touch alone makes me grow tired and I move to lie down on my stomach, feeling Jack's fingers continue to work on my muscles.
"Thank you," I mumble into the pillow. My eyes are shut and I slowly feel the pain subside. He continues working on my neck, slightly drawing his hands down my back but always trying to keep it 'professional.' I laugh inwardly at such a thought, but don't care right now because of what he's doing. It feels so incredibly good and what I wouldn't give to experience this again.
I feel myself being drawn towards sleep, and I'm not sure if it's because of the late hour or what he's doing that's relaxing me so much. I fail to feel him stop or hear him leave my room when he's done, since I'm in a deep, exhaustive sleep.
"Samantha," I hear Jack's voice and open my eyes to see him dressed as the sun shines in through the curtains.
"Yeah, I'm up," I answer, rolling around in bed and wanting to fall back asleep, but knowing I can't. I remember what Jack used to do to encourage me to wake up when he stayed the few nights that he did. The thought alone sends a smile to my face and I glance up to see the adjoining door shut.
I sit up and grab my clothes before taking a quick shower. When I get done, I see Jack packing the files away and hanging up the phone.
"Any news?" I question, stepping into his room.
"No," he shakes his head. "I'm thinking we may be going at this from the wrong angle."
I eye him to go on as I head back towards my room to pack up my things. I hear Jack's footsteps behind me.
"This kid didn't have a car; we already know that," Jack reminds me. "What if he took the bus back to his apartment?"
"It runs till midnight, right? It's plausible," I nod my head and look up from the bag I've just zipped. "Did you check the bus company?"
"There's two bus lines that go to his apartment, but the university one conveniently stops at the bar, as opposed to the other one, which is two blocks down and one block over."
"And?" I eye him, tossing my bag over my shoulder as he grabs his things and we head out to the car.
"We're going to ask if they've seen our guy." Jack tosses me the keys to drive after we put our things in the trunk.
I pull out into traffic and Jack gives me directions to the university bus station. We exit the car and pull out our badges, showing it to the staff. "We're with the FBI," Jack tells them. "I called this morning about the disappearance of a college student."
"Right," the woman nods. "Come with me." She takes us down to her office where we take a seat. "I've got three drivers that worked the night shift for that route. All three of them are here and I'll send them in separately for you to talk with them."
The first one, a Mr. Rodriguez, doesn't recognize the boy's face from either taking the bus previously or being a passenger the night of his disappearance. He explained that because it's winter break for the college students, most of them have gone home, and those that haven't usually have a car to get themselves around.
The second driver, a Mr. Allan Andrews, steps into the office and takes a seat across from where I stand and Jack sits.
"Do you recognize him?" I show him a photo of Damon Relic and he eyes it, and then Jack, before glancing back towards me.
"Yeah, he's one of the kids I picked up. Why? Did he make a complaint or something?"
"Or something," Jack answers standing up. "Did you see him Sunday night?"
"I might have. What's it to you?"
"It's more what's it worth to you? Impeding a federal missing persons investigation can serve a jail sentence. How would you like to do some hard time, Mr. Andrews?" I step closer, eyeing him, till he slumps in his seat.
"Yeah, I saw him."
"Did you give him a ride that night?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't on no bus," he answers. "The kid was hitchhiking because the buses were done running. I was on my way back and recognized him. Thought I'd be nice and offer him a ride back to his apartment."
"He never made it home," I state bluntly.
"Well, I dropped him off."
"Did you watch him go inside?"
"No," he shakes his head. "I couldn't see into his apartment complex after he made it through the first set of doors.
"He never made it even to those doors," I state, hoping to break him.
"All right," he let's out a sigh. "I did pick him up, but I didn't do nothing to the kid."
"Then who did?" Jack's voice grows rough and deep.
"Hell if I know," the man shrugs.
"Where did you take him?" I question, my eyes staring into his as they nervously dart around the room.
"The kid was puking all over the place. I told him to get out and throw up, then I left his sorry ass. Teach the kid a lesson."
"Where did you leave him?" My voice grows insistent.
"Not even a mile down from the bar. He could have walked back to make a call for someone else to pick him up. The late night ride service was there. I was just being a nice guy and look where it got me."
"A nice guy?" I laugh at his words. "You left him on the side of the road!"
"He could fend for himself."
"Could he?" I question, "---because he's been missing for 32 hours." My eyes grow angry and I storm out of the room before I lose my cool any more then I already have.
I feel Jack's arm on my elbow, and I turn around with a soft breath.
"What now?" I glance into Jack's eyes to see the concern he holds, and I'm not sure whether it's for myself or for Damon.
"We'll bring Allan Andrews to the scene where he left Damon. Then we'll see what turns up." Jack eyes me intently.
"You don't think he killed him?"
"No," Jack shakes his head. "I think he's telling the truth."
"He's not leaving anything else out?"
"That I can't say for certain." Jack's hand brushes against mine, so innocently I'm not sure if it's intentional or not. We both pretend it hasn't happened, but his eyes watch mine for some kind of reaction.
"We'll bring a team with us," I state. "Should I call Danny, Vivian, and Martin or---"
"They'll take too long to get here. You can tell them the lead's hot on this end, but I'm not sure they should drive up here just yet."
"Why not?"
"This case could be solved before they'd make it," he answers. "Let's talk to one of the detectives and see if they can spare us a team."
***********
I head back to my bed, reading through the files and reports we had faxed over from our NYC office. I feel myself tired with sleep but won't allow myself the pleasure of closing my eyes. If I sleep, it means more time will pass and there'll be less chance of finding Damon. I continue to study the notes and interviews, hoping to piece together where and with whom he might have left.
I let out a soft groan, feeling achy from staring down at the reports and not stretching. My eyes hurt from studying the files and the words become a jumbled blur.
"Sam?" I hear Jack's soft voice, quiet enough not to wake me but loud enough for me to hear. The door squeaks open as he slips through the entranceway between our rooms.
"Just going over stuff."
"It's one in the morning," he eyes the clock. "We'll likely have to get up early as it is. Get some sleep."
"Yeah," I breathe out, not making any attempt to move. My eyes stare down at the files cluttered along the mattress. My neck aches and my eyes hurt from staring at everything for so long.
Jack moves towards my bed and my head finally lolls up to see him helping close and put away the files. "Thanks," I smile softly with a yawn as we put everything on the table.
"You okay?" Once the files are situated, Jack moves back towards my bed, his hand resting on my shoulder.
"Just tired and a little stiff," I answer. "I should be fine by morning."
"Turn around."
"What?" I glance at him with heavy eyes, but do as I'm told.
I feel his hands on my shoulders, gently kneading my flesh. He softly brushes my hair to one side as his hands work on the other, tenderly working on the knots as I softly groan out.
His touch alone makes me grow tired and I move to lie down on my stomach, feeling Jack's fingers continue to work on my muscles.
"Thank you," I mumble into the pillow. My eyes are shut and I slowly feel the pain subside. He continues working on my neck, slightly drawing his hands down my back but always trying to keep it 'professional.' I laugh inwardly at such a thought, but don't care right now because of what he's doing. It feels so incredibly good and what I wouldn't give to experience this again.
I feel myself being drawn towards sleep, and I'm not sure if it's because of the late hour or what he's doing that's relaxing me so much. I fail to feel him stop or hear him leave my room when he's done, since I'm in a deep, exhaustive sleep.
"Samantha," I hear Jack's voice and open my eyes to see him dressed as the sun shines in through the curtains.
"Yeah, I'm up," I answer, rolling around in bed and wanting to fall back asleep, but knowing I can't. I remember what Jack used to do to encourage me to wake up when he stayed the few nights that he did. The thought alone sends a smile to my face and I glance up to see the adjoining door shut.
I sit up and grab my clothes before taking a quick shower. When I get done, I see Jack packing the files away and hanging up the phone.
"Any news?" I question, stepping into his room.
"No," he shakes his head. "I'm thinking we may be going at this from the wrong angle."
I eye him to go on as I head back towards my room to pack up my things. I hear Jack's footsteps behind me.
"This kid didn't have a car; we already know that," Jack reminds me. "What if he took the bus back to his apartment?"
"It runs till midnight, right? It's plausible," I nod my head and look up from the bag I've just zipped. "Did you check the bus company?"
"There's two bus lines that go to his apartment, but the university one conveniently stops at the bar, as opposed to the other one, which is two blocks down and one block over."
"And?" I eye him, tossing my bag over my shoulder as he grabs his things and we head out to the car.
"We're going to ask if they've seen our guy." Jack tosses me the keys to drive after we put our things in the trunk.
I pull out into traffic and Jack gives me directions to the university bus station. We exit the car and pull out our badges, showing it to the staff. "We're with the FBI," Jack tells them. "I called this morning about the disappearance of a college student."
"Right," the woman nods. "Come with me." She takes us down to her office where we take a seat. "I've got three drivers that worked the night shift for that route. All three of them are here and I'll send them in separately for you to talk with them."
The first one, a Mr. Rodriguez, doesn't recognize the boy's face from either taking the bus previously or being a passenger the night of his disappearance. He explained that because it's winter break for the college students, most of them have gone home, and those that haven't usually have a car to get themselves around.
The second driver, a Mr. Allan Andrews, steps into the office and takes a seat across from where I stand and Jack sits.
"Do you recognize him?" I show him a photo of Damon Relic and he eyes it, and then Jack, before glancing back towards me.
"Yeah, he's one of the kids I picked up. Why? Did he make a complaint or something?"
"Or something," Jack answers standing up. "Did you see him Sunday night?"
"I might have. What's it to you?"
"It's more what's it worth to you? Impeding a federal missing persons investigation can serve a jail sentence. How would you like to do some hard time, Mr. Andrews?" I step closer, eyeing him, till he slumps in his seat.
"Yeah, I saw him."
"Did you give him a ride that night?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't on no bus," he answers. "The kid was hitchhiking because the buses were done running. I was on my way back and recognized him. Thought I'd be nice and offer him a ride back to his apartment."
"He never made it home," I state bluntly.
"Well, I dropped him off."
"Did you watch him go inside?"
"No," he shakes his head. "I couldn't see into his apartment complex after he made it through the first set of doors.
"He never made it even to those doors," I state, hoping to break him.
"All right," he let's out a sigh. "I did pick him up, but I didn't do nothing to the kid."
"Then who did?" Jack's voice grows rough and deep.
"Hell if I know," the man shrugs.
"Where did you take him?" I question, my eyes staring into his as they nervously dart around the room.
"The kid was puking all over the place. I told him to get out and throw up, then I left his sorry ass. Teach the kid a lesson."
"Where did you leave him?" My voice grows insistent.
"Not even a mile down from the bar. He could have walked back to make a call for someone else to pick him up. The late night ride service was there. I was just being a nice guy and look where it got me."
"A nice guy?" I laugh at his words. "You left him on the side of the road!"
"He could fend for himself."
"Could he?" I question, "---because he's been missing for 32 hours." My eyes grow angry and I storm out of the room before I lose my cool any more then I already have.
I feel Jack's arm on my elbow, and I turn around with a soft breath.
"What now?" I glance into Jack's eyes to see the concern he holds, and I'm not sure whether it's for myself or for Damon.
"We'll bring Allan Andrews to the scene where he left Damon. Then we'll see what turns up." Jack eyes me intently.
"You don't think he killed him?"
"No," Jack shakes his head. "I think he's telling the truth."
"He's not leaving anything else out?"
"That I can't say for certain." Jack's hand brushes against mine, so innocently I'm not sure if it's intentional or not. We both pretend it hasn't happened, but his eyes watch mine for some kind of reaction.
"We'll bring a team with us," I state. "Should I call Danny, Vivian, and Martin or---"
"They'll take too long to get here. You can tell them the lead's hot on this end, but I'm not sure they should drive up here just yet."
"Why not?"
"This case could be solved before they'd make it," he answers. "Let's talk to one of the detectives and see if they can spare us a team."
