Disclaimers in chapter one.
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck with this—you're all way too kind.
*
"Jillian Bradshaw is right," FBI handwriting analyst Victoria Silverman told Jack, tapping the ransom note and a sample of Margo Reed's handwriting. "These are identical. Your girl wrote this ransom note."
"Thanks," Jack said, offering a grateful smile as he reached for the note.
But Victoria wasn't finished. "There's more here. Look closely at the ransom note."
Perplexed, Jack leaned closer to the white paper and blood-red ink.
"She pressed down harder on some of the letters," Jack realized with a frown.
"Three specific letters," Victoria pointed out. "Starting with the "w" in West 12th, every "w", "i", and "l" is emphasized."
"Will." Jack spoke the name quietly, still studying the note.
"What does that mean?" Victoria asked, curious.
"I don't know," Jack told her honestly. "I don't know."
*
"She was trying to warn Dylan?" Samantha postulated after Jack had told the team about Victoria Silverman's analysis of the ransom note.
"It makes sense," Vivian agreed. "That's quick-thinking, too."
Martin frowned. "So we're assuming she was forced to write the note?"
"I think that's a fair assumption," Jack pointed out. "But no matter why she wrote it, we know her disappearance has something to do with William Bradshaw's death."
"Well, the case against Cameron Marks was weak," Danny put in, glancing at his notes. "The only piece of evidence that put him away was his fingerprint on a shell casing found at the scene."
"The only piece of evidence?" Jack repeated. "Sounds like pretty strong evidence to me."
"No gun was ever found, nor was one ever registered to Cameron Marks. No eye-witnesses. No motive." Martin continued where Danny left off.
Samantha asked, "What was the scene, anyway?"
"Fairway Park. Small, not in such a good area," Danny replied. "It's only a few blocks from where Robert and Julie Bradshaw live now, which happens to be where Will, Margo and Dylan grew up. It's also not far from Cameron Marks's former residence."
"But he went down protesting his innocence," Vivian said, frowning in concentration. "How'd he explain his print on the shell casing?"
"He couldn't," Martin told her. "Or he wouldn't," the agent amended grimly. "And even with the lack of other evidence, the defense couldn't make a case for him."
"Until these new witnesses," Jack ventured, and both Danny and Martin nodded.
"An older man and his wife now swear they remember seeing Cameron outside of their store at the time of the murder, around midnight. They clammed up ten years ago because--"
"They were scared," Vivian interjected.
"Right," Danny confirmed.
"So what changed?" Samantha asked, propping her head on her hand.
"For starters, Cameron's lawyer," Martin said. "Apparently, Cameron's been trying to clear his name since he was put in prison, and he found a guy that was willing to work for cheap. He tracked down the witnesses, persuaded them into coming forward."
"They have no motive to lie. They don't even know Cameron," Danny finished.
"So how does this all relate to Margo and Dylan?" Jack asked. "We're looking for two missing people, not trying to solve Will Bradshaw's murder."
"We may need to do both," Samantha pointed out. "I think Margo's already told us that."
A contemplative silence fell over the room.
"We need Cameron Marks and we need him soon," Jack finally said. "And we need to speak with Simon and Jillian."
"Cameron Marks is under the radar," Danny said. "But we've got people looking for him. He won't have left the city."
"Why do you think that?" Jack wanted to know.
"Because even though he's out, he still wants to clear his name," Martin reminded him. "To do that, he needs to stick around."
A slow nod from Jack. "In the meantime, we should get Simon and Jillian in here right away."
Vivian glanced at the clock. "It's after eleven-thirty, Jack, and Simon Reed has a little girl."
Jack gave a heavy sigh, but assented. "Jillian Bradshaw, then. I don't think there's any way she missed Margo's message in that note."
*
The other woman's eyes were raw and desperate, and Samantha noticed that she compulsively picked at the skin on her fingers, drawing angry drops of blood from several.
Jack gave her the okay to start the questioning, and Samantha cleared her throat gently.
"You read the ransom note," Samantha began, studying Jillian Bradshaw carefully. "You saw what Margo was trying to tell Dylan, didn't you?"
Jillian's eyes slid closed and she bit her lip, but nodded.
"What do you know about Will Bradshaw's murder, Jillian?" Samantha decided there was no sense in dancing around the issue, not when two people were already missing.
It was a long moment before she spoke. "I don't think anyone else knows this, besides Dylan and Margo. I'm pretty sure Margo never even told Simon."
"Knows what?" Jack asked from his seat in the corner of the room.
"He told me never to tell anyone.." But Jillian's voice trailed off in defeat; she had already made up her mind. "Dylan and Margo were sixteen when Will was killed. Dylan told me Will had been into drugs for awhile, but no one knew how bad it was until.." she shrugged, shaking her head. "Until it was too late."
Jillian Bradshaw still dug at her skin, but the desperation in her eyes was gone, replaced by a grim determination.
"Dylan called it hero worship, the way he and Margo looked up to Will. He said they used to follow him places, cover for him..he wasn't a bad guy, according to Dylan, just confused..lost, I think, is the word he used. Anyway, on the night he died, Will snuck out of the house around midnight. Margo and Dylan followed him."
Samantha's eyes flew to Jack, who looked as surprised as she felt.
Jillian Bradshaw continued, oblivious to the reeling minds of the agents. "He ended up at some park near their house and he never knew Margo and Dylan were behind him." Jillian drew a deep breath. "There was a guy there waiting for him. They seemed friendly enough at first, but then this guy started asking Will for his money. It turns out Will owed him twenty grand." She stopped speaking for a moment, shaking her head, and lifted her eyes to Samantha's.
"How does a nineteen year old end up twenty thousand in debt?" The question was barely a whisper, and somehow Samantha knew she wasn't expecting an answer.
"They fought for a few minutes, and the guy pulled out a gun. He shot Will in the chest, just like that, and Margo and Dylan saw it. They saw their brother's murder," Jillian finished quietly.
"The guy in the park wasn't Cameron Marks, was he?" Samantha spoke after a moment had passed, and the other woman shook her head slowly.
"Margo and Dylan were standing by a group of trees," Jillian remembered. "And Will's killer saw them." A single tear started its slow journey down her pale cheek, but she managed a tremulous smile. "Dylan said Margo..Margo tried to protect him, to push him behind the trees so the guy wouldn't see him." She shook her head. "It was too late, though. He had the gun on them and he told them..he told them if they ever said anything, he would kill them. So they didn't. I'm the only person Dylan ever told."
"Jesus." Samantha shook her head. "So they never came forward, and Cameron Marks took the fall."
"And it looks like we have two suspects now," Jack pointed out. "Cameron Marks and Will Bradshaw's murderer."
*
The door was slightly ajar, as it had been so many times before when time crept toward morning, its position not so much an invitation but an addiction, and Samantha pushed it open farther, slipping into Jack's office.
He looked up from his work and gave her that smile she saw so often, the half-distracted one he gave everyone except the one he saved for her was just a little wider and always spread to his eyes.
"Hey," he said quietly, folding a file closed and standing.
"Danny, Martin and Viv headed out about a half hour ago," she replied by way of greeting.
Jack rubbed his eyes, looked at the clock, and nodded. "We should get some sleep too."
"You want to.." Samantha trailed off, never quite sure how to word what she wanted to say, so instead she moved forward and touched his hand softly.
And Jack had always understood, but the sharp regret that found its way onto his face tonight was foreign to the otherwise familiar exchange.
"I can't," came his whispered reply. "Sam, I can't."
It was like a sucker punch to the gut, but she stepped back, swallowed and nodded, tight-lipped. "I understand."
"Samantha.."
"I'm, uh.." she shook her head and gave a short, embarrassed laugh. "I'm just going to go. I'll see you in the morning." A decisive nod, and she avoided his eyes, turning and walking toward the door.
No, Jack wanted to call desperately after her. No, you don't understand.
Don't go..
But he watched the door, once her signal, her invitation, close behind her, saw her hesitate for a fraction of a second before continuing down the hall, and felt his palm burn where her feather light touch had been only moments before.
Sam..
I'm sorry.
TBC..
