Disclaimer see Chapter 1
Note: This chapter continues directly from the previous chapter.
"I'm starving. I think I slept through lunch, "Samantha announced.
"I can get you something from the cafeteria if you like. I also think there was a bakery just across the street."
"Bakery would be great. I need a good strong cup of coffee."
"Okay. I'll be right back." Jack got up and left.
It felt very natural interacting with Jack that way. Somehow the usual inhibitions generated by their past together were gone. The emotional roller coaster that both had ridden for the last weeks had affected the way they felt around each other. Coming so close to losing everything, including her life, had put certain things into perspective. But it wasn't just she who had changed, their situation also had undergone a radical transformation. Jack didn't really want to give her any details, but they were no longer working together, which gave them a lot more freedom. Truth was that it had always been the professional consequences that had stopped them the most; they had far outweighed moral and, in Jack's case, marital concerns. Samantha didn't know what to make of their new situation, but for the moment, she simply enjoyed being with someone familiar.
Ten minutes later, Jack returned from his trip to the bakery. He was holding a plastic cup and a paper bag.
"I didn't think coffee was such a good idea while you're still on medication, so I brought you hot chocolate instead." He sat down the cup and the bag on her nightstand. Samantha was about to reach for the bag, when she noticed the print on it. It was from a Canadian bakery and under the company name was its logo: a red maple leaf in a circle of swirls.
The maple leaf—she had seen it before….somewhere important. It had something to do with the case. She tried to pinpoint the memory. A hand, she had seen it on a hand: the symbol of a maple leaf tattooed on the back of a hand. But whom did the hand belong to? She knew no one with a tattoo like that and none of the suspects or victims on the case had had one either. It had to be something else. She closed her eyes and willed her memory to cooperate. Just as she was about to give up, an image flashed through her mind. A hand with a maple leaf tattooed on its back had grabbed her upper arm with force. Now it came back to her with full force.
Jack saw the change in Samantha. Just now she had seemed relaxed, closing her eyes, but it became clear that it was not fatigue.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, yes, I'm fine. It's just that it was so sudden." She sounded shaken.
"What was?" Jack asked.
"I …I remembered something…something about being attacked."
That was what Jack had been afraid of. What he had feared was true. He had hoped that it hadn't happened, but that had been foolish.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"We were there. Danny and I were there when Agent Robinson shot Agent Severin. We were in her office. I didn't see it, but suddenly there was a gunshot and she was on the floor, dead. He disarmed us and tied us up with duct tape. There was nothing we could do; he had a gun trained on us. Then he called someone. He didn't say any names, but he said he needed someone to come over to the office as soon as possible. It could only have been twenty minutes or so later, then someone showed up. I couldn't see his face. Robinson made us sit face to the wall. The two started arguing. He accused Robinson of being too careless and was worried that they would be seen or that we would be able to identify them later. Robinson assured him that he had everything under control, but I don't think the other guy believed him for a minute. They argued some more; it was about drugs and a car. I didn't understand most of the references. Then suddenly, the guy grabbed me from behind and slammed me to the ground. I must have hit my head, because I don't know what happened after that. But I saw something, when the man grabbed me. I saw a tattoo on the back of his hand. It was a maple leaf. The bag from the bakery must have triggered the memory somehow." Samantha was fighting hard to remain factual and emotionless, but she could feel that her façade was about to crumble. Only now, when she recounted the experience, it became fully real and with it the pain became real as well. It also made her ask herself what else might be buried in her subconscious mind. If she had temporarily forgotten this event, then who knew when the next memory would surface? That scared her.
She looked over at Jack, who seemed lost in thought himself. She wondered how he was handling the situation—the loss of his career, the case that had turned into a disaster, the near loss of his team, the near loss of her. Maybe she was just deluding herself in that regard, but she believed that he still cared, but they had not exactly been on good terms lately. Did it even matter? For the moment, he was here and knowing that made her feel safer.
Parking lot outside St. Agnes Hospital, Annapolis
December 14 , 5 p.m.
Jack stepped out into the parking lot with mixed feelings. He had seen Samantha again, something for which he had not dared to hope for anymore. In spite of everything that had happened, she and Danny had made it. He didn't have their deaths on his conscience. Them being alive was more than he could have wished for, but he had seen the injuries that Samantha had suffered. Not just the physical ones. They would heal, but the emotional fallout from such an experience would be enormous. She might never be able to get over it. And he had to bear the guilt for that. Anger was rising up inside him, anger at those who had acted with such disregard for human life, who pitilessly had played him and his team so ruthlessly and had abused their power to willingly lead them into the abyss. He had turned it over and over in his head. He had tried to put all the little pieces together without success….until now. What Samantha had said had opened his eyes. The tattoo. He knew a man with a tattoo just like that. That must be the connection; he had been blind not to have seen it earlier. It all fit together—the drugs, the scare-tactics, the locations. He had played him, he had used him, knowing that he would go to any length to solve this case. And he had been stupid enough to swallow the bait, but instead of himself, this working for him had paid for them. Robinson was just another pawn in this game, just like Liam Kendall, Markus Feldman or whatever the man's name was. They had been in on the drug deals, but they had only been middlemen; someone else must have dictated the terms. The threats had started immediately when they had gotten on the case. It should have leapt up at him back then already. There was something more personal involved. He had to do something. He carried no more influence, since he was no longer an FBI agent, at least not until the end of the investigation. But he had no doubts as to what the result would be. He couldn't wait that long. All traces of evidence would have been wiped away by then and any chance of bringing anyone to justice would be long gone. Besides, it was all still just a theory. He had no idea what the true long-term plans had been. He had to take on the task by himself. He didn't know whom he could trust in Washington. Over the years he had made rather few friends there, and Victor Fitzgerald's opinion of him and his methods, especially since it had led to the shooting of his son, were not helpful. Considering his options, he got into his car and headed downtown. Case or no case, he had promised Samantha he would get some things for her and he would. But before he did, he had to make a phone call. He dialled the familiar number of his wife's mobile phone.
Maria immediately recognized his voice.
"I didn't think you would call. I had to hear from Vivian that you're suspended." Maria paused. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Something has come up; I didn't want to worry you. They found Samantha and Danny; both of them are alive."
There was another uncomfortable pause.
"That's good news. How are they doing?"
"They will recover."
"You went to Maryland to see her?" Maria's tone was accusatory now.
"I was in the area." There was no right answer to her question.
"Are you coming back to New York? The girls miss you."
"Not yet. There is something I have to take care of first. It might be a while before I'm back."
Maria didn't ask any question. She no longer wanted to know what Jack had gotten himself into. There was a part of her that still worried that he might do something stupid, but the last few weeks had worn her down. She couldn't muster the emotional effort.
"Tell the girls that I love them"
The only reply that Jack got was the beeping signal of the phone. He sighed sadly. His marriage was beyond saving. He had known that for a while, and he had just been putting off the inevitable. He could live with that, but he didn't want to lose his girls as well. For a moment he doubted what he was about to do. He questioned whether it was fair to Hannah and Kate to risk everything for a case. But his doubts were short lived. If the people behind this were indeed who he thought they were, they would not hesitate to drag his family into this as well. Once they realized what he knew, there would be no stepping back.
St. Agnes Hospital, Annapolis
December 14, 8.45 p.m.
Careful not to wake her, he placed the bag along with the note he'd written in the wardrobe. Writing that note had been hard. There were no adequate words to express what he felt nor could he ever justify what he had done and what he was about to do. Either way, Samantha would disagree with him, but he had no other option. The letter was merely a futile attempt to explain himself and maybe an apology, if she would accept it. He had planned on just putting the bag and the note there and then leaving, but he found himself standing there, watching her sleep.
Samantha's face, although relaxed, showed what strain she had been under. She had lost considerable weight, making her features appear almost gaunt (too strong?) and there were fading bruises and an already partially healed gash on her forehead.
Still, she looked beautiful to him, but seeing her like this also hurt him. There was no way to right what had gone wrong, there was no one person to blame. He carried his share of it and he was going to do his share to make things right. He was aware of the dangers and he knew how ruthless the people were that he was going to deal with, but nothing was going to stop him from going ahead with his plan. This might be his good-bye to Sam, the good-bye he had not had a chance to say before, when he had thought he'd lost her. If he was going to help her find peace, he would gladly do it. He took a deep breath and walked out, softly closing the door behind him.
St. Agnes Hospital, Annapolis
December 15, 1.15 a.m.
It was dark outside when she woke again. She was cold, but even when she pulled up the blanket, the chill was still there. She couldn't seem to get warm. Like in the woods, the cold was invading her body to the core.
Jack had wanted to bring by some clothes. Maybe he'd left them in the closet when she'd been sleeping. She carefully slid her legs over the bed, testing whether she could stand. Her ankle didn't hold any weight, but she could stand when she held on to the nightstand. Slowly edging herself along the wall, she made her way across the room to the wardrobe. Indeed, two plastic shopping bags were inside. There was one from the drugstore filled with toiletry items, a bottle of fruit juice, a few granola bars. The other from a department store contained a sweater and a pair of sweat pants. She unfolded the sweater, intending to wear it over the thin hospital gown, when a white envelope fell out. There was no address and it wasn't sealed. Jack must have put it there. She opened it nervously. It contained a single page of paper. The note was short, only a few sentences. The handwriting was Jack's. If he couldn't talk to her face to face, then it had to be bad news. She had never known Jack to back off from a potentially uncomfortable situation. It was not like him at all. Trembling, she started to read.
Dear Samantha,
I wish I could tell you this myself, but I can't. I should have trusted you more, but please believe me, all I wanted to do was protect you. Now I see what mistakes I've made. Much of what happened is my fault and I'll do what I can to make it right and solve this case so that all guilty parties can be brought to justice. I'm sorry that I'd given up on you. I have to do this; I don't have any other choice.
Hopefully, you'll forgive me.
Love,
Jack
She read it again, then another time and another. Although Jack didn't say what he was up to, she had a pretty solid idea. He was going to go after whoever in Washington was protecting Liam Kendall, the person who had stonewalled the investigation from the start. She didn't have all the pieces of information. There was too much that she still didn't know about the time she had been missing, but what she had fit together. For some reason, Jack must have thought that he could do something. Maybe he had found evidence of the involvement of someone within the FBI. The consequences of that were unimaginable. She herself had experienced how ruthless they were. They wouldn't hesitate to make Jack disappear. He must have been desperate to do this and now she was powerless to do anything to stop him. She should have seen that he was going to do something stupid, when he had been visiting her earlier, but it was still so difficult to think and focus clearly. It was too late. The way he had said goodbye earlier. He had known that he probably wasn't coming back; it was his goodbye to her. For the second time, she had lost him without having a chance to say goodbye. The last time she had been lucky; fortunately circumstances had helped her to escape a hopeless situation. But she doubted she would get that lucky twice.
tbc
