Jack Malone POV:
FBI Building
March 11, 2004
9:42 a.m.
I glance up and notice Sam making her way down the hall towards the conference table where we're all seated.
"What's the case?" she questions, taking a seat across from me, as her eyes barely reach mine.
"Janet Murdock has been missing for 18 hours. She's a middle school teacher with a son at Elm Grove Elementary. She was supposed to pick him up last night from school and when she never arrived, the husband was called to get their son. She's always on time, but no one has seen or heard from her since a little after 3 p.m. yesterday. The family is not overly wealthy and has no enemies to speak of."
Sam eyes the folder and I pass it to her to look through, since I've discussed most of this with the team already. "Anything else?" she asks.
"Nothing that stands out. Martin, I want you to go visit the husband at home. See if he knows anything. Vivian, you'll visit the boy's school, see if he remembers anyone suspicious hanging around. Danny, you'll talk to any neighbors or friends of the family; also check financial records before you head out. Sam, you'll come with me to the middle school where she works."
"Okay," she nods, finally glancing up to meet my gaze. I know she probably doesn't want to be assigned to work with me right now, but I need to know she's capable of doing her job.
I stand up and head towards my office to grab my coat. I turn around and see Sam in the doorway.
"How'd it go with Lisa?"
"She says I should talk to you," she eyes me sadly.
"I would hope that you would feel comfortable coming to me," I answer.
"I am," she glances back towards the door. "You ready to head out?" Her demeanor tells me she's not ready, even if she says she is. She's putting on a show for everyone in the office, especially me. Seeing her do that breaks my heart. She still seems so fragile, and I'm worried I might do the wrong thing by pushing her into talking. I'm worried she might run off again—or worse: do something tragic to herself.
We head down to the parking garage and she opens her palm to gesture she wants to drive. "You sure?"
"I'm fine," she answers and I hand the keys over before getting into the passenger side.
I offer her directions and we pull in front of the school, park the car and head towards the main entrance. I eye Samantha, noticing her hesitate and I realize what I've done. I should have sent her to the husband's home or even kept her in the office. Bringing her to a school—with children—I let out a sigh, and head inside.
I feel her presence beside me, as she glances down the hall, taking in the sight around us. "This way," I motion towards the office and acquire two visitor's passes before speaking with a few people who knew our missing person.
No one has any strong leads or explanations where she might have gone. If she's having an affair, no one at work knows about it. Her coworkers mention she normally finishes grading papers and then picks her son up from school. None of the people she worked with noticed whether or not she was even in her office after class was dismissed.
The few students we pulled out of class claimed that she didn't seem preoccupied or that anything was wrong. No one seems to have a reason as to why she's gone missing.
I slide my hands into my coat pocket, heading back towards the office to sign out and thank them for their time before making our way to the car. Sam heads for the driver's side again, taking charge and trying to find some peace of mind in such a simple task.
*************
Samantha Spade POV:
Parking Lot of Dalton Middle School
March 11, 2004
11:47 a.m.
I feel Jack staring at me as I start the car. "What?" I question, looking straight ahead before glancing around for traffic. I do what I can to avoid his gaze and I'm sure he notices it.
"It's almost noon. Why don't we head someplace for lunch?"
"I'm not all that hungry. We can pick up subs or something on the way back to the office," I offer. Jack lets out a sigh and relaxes into the passenger seat. "What?" I hear his sigh and I'm not sure I want to know what he's thinking, but I ask anyway.
"You can't keep hiding how you're feeling. It'll catch up with you."
"I'm not hiding it. I talked with Lisa."
"Is she the only one you're going to confide in?"
"Jack," my gaze catches his before looking back at the road.
"It was my son too," his voice pleads, begging me to let him into my heart.
"I never meant for any of this to happen," I whisper, turning into the local sub shop.
"It was as much my fault as it was yours."
I park the car and eye him intently. I don't have an answer for him, and I'm not sure he'd like what I'd want to say anyhow. I feel so emotionally broken and lost right now. If he knew what I was feeling, I know he'd never let me carry a gun.
We head inside the small sub shop and place our orders before paying. Jack offers to pay mine and I don't fight him off. He'll probably eat mine for dinner, since we'll likely be staying late and I have no appetite.
We make our way back out to the car, food in hand, and I hand over the keys for Jack to drive. He eyes me, realizing that the walls I've built up over the past several hours are soon going to be tumbling down. He willingly takes the keys, escorting me inside before opening his own door.
I close my eyes and let out a soft breath. Why does life have to be so complicated? Why can't things go as planned? Why can't I have a normal family with the man I love? Why do I suddenly feel like dying?
**************
Jack Malone POV:
FBI Building
March 11, 2004
12:27 p.m.
I take my lunch with me into my office, remove my coat and take a seat. I clear the overdue paperwork, sliding it into the nearest drawer before unwrapping my food.
I take a bite and glance out to see Sam staring at me. Her eyes look lost, her smile so far gone it might never return. She looks away, her gaze fixed on the computer screen as her food sits at the side of her desk.
I down some soda and exit my office, hoping to have a word with her. She sees me approaching and the frown on her face turns more into a scowl. She lets out a sigh, knowing what I'm about to ask.
"I'll be there in a minute," she tells me and I nod, heading back into my office to finish my lunch.
A few minutes later, Samantha makes her way inside, taking a seat across from me with a sigh of defeat. She doesn't say anything and I suppose I don't expect her to either.
"You should eat," I suggest. I know it's a stupid comment but it's a valid point. She shrugs in response, staring at my desk.
"I haven't been hungry since I was sick. Are we done?" She finally catches my gaze.
"I'm really concerned about you."
"Don't be." She tries to hide the fact with a smile, but I can tell it's forced and she's hurting inside.
"Talk to me," I whisper.
"There's nothing to say." She stands up, heading for the door. She glances back at me, her eyes never wavering. "Worry about your children, not about me." She slips out of my office and, with a sigh, collapses into the chair in front of her desk.
She's trying to keep herself together, at least until the end of the day. I don't know why she's fighting what she's feeling. Is she worried how everyone will see her? I've never known her to care before. She eyes her lunch and tosses it into the wastebasket.
I shake my head in dismay, wishing she would eat. I don't want to see her get sick or become depressed from all that's happened. If I knew what to do to make it all better, I would in a heart beat.
I toss the rest of my lunch and grab the paperwork, trying to sort out some of this mess. I haven't heard back from Vivian, Danny, or Martin yet and I'm beginning to wonder if they've turned up anything. Usually they check in.
I pick up my phone and dial Samantha's desk.
"Agent Spade," she answers.
"Can you do me a favor?" I question. Her head turns towards me.
"You couldn't walk over here?" she laughs softly, sounding a little like herself again.
"I figured you'd have to talk to me this way," I tease. "Can you check the local hospitals and morgues for any Jane Doe's? I think Martin left the number on your desk. You can fax them a photo, so we don't have to run out," I offer, "unless we find a body."
"Yeah, I see the number," she grabs it off the post-it note. "Anything else?"
Her eyes lock with mine.
"Let me know what you find," I answer hanging up and watching as she dials to find out if our missing person has possibly checked in—or potentially checked out.
FBI Building
March 11, 2004
9:42 a.m.
I glance up and notice Sam making her way down the hall towards the conference table where we're all seated.
"What's the case?" she questions, taking a seat across from me, as her eyes barely reach mine.
"Janet Murdock has been missing for 18 hours. She's a middle school teacher with a son at Elm Grove Elementary. She was supposed to pick him up last night from school and when she never arrived, the husband was called to get their son. She's always on time, but no one has seen or heard from her since a little after 3 p.m. yesterday. The family is not overly wealthy and has no enemies to speak of."
Sam eyes the folder and I pass it to her to look through, since I've discussed most of this with the team already. "Anything else?" she asks.
"Nothing that stands out. Martin, I want you to go visit the husband at home. See if he knows anything. Vivian, you'll visit the boy's school, see if he remembers anyone suspicious hanging around. Danny, you'll talk to any neighbors or friends of the family; also check financial records before you head out. Sam, you'll come with me to the middle school where she works."
"Okay," she nods, finally glancing up to meet my gaze. I know she probably doesn't want to be assigned to work with me right now, but I need to know she's capable of doing her job.
I stand up and head towards my office to grab my coat. I turn around and see Sam in the doorway.
"How'd it go with Lisa?"
"She says I should talk to you," she eyes me sadly.
"I would hope that you would feel comfortable coming to me," I answer.
"I am," she glances back towards the door. "You ready to head out?" Her demeanor tells me she's not ready, even if she says she is. She's putting on a show for everyone in the office, especially me. Seeing her do that breaks my heart. She still seems so fragile, and I'm worried I might do the wrong thing by pushing her into talking. I'm worried she might run off again—or worse: do something tragic to herself.
We head down to the parking garage and she opens her palm to gesture she wants to drive. "You sure?"
"I'm fine," she answers and I hand the keys over before getting into the passenger side.
I offer her directions and we pull in front of the school, park the car and head towards the main entrance. I eye Samantha, noticing her hesitate and I realize what I've done. I should have sent her to the husband's home or even kept her in the office. Bringing her to a school—with children—I let out a sigh, and head inside.
I feel her presence beside me, as she glances down the hall, taking in the sight around us. "This way," I motion towards the office and acquire two visitor's passes before speaking with a few people who knew our missing person.
No one has any strong leads or explanations where she might have gone. If she's having an affair, no one at work knows about it. Her coworkers mention she normally finishes grading papers and then picks her son up from school. None of the people she worked with noticed whether or not she was even in her office after class was dismissed.
The few students we pulled out of class claimed that she didn't seem preoccupied or that anything was wrong. No one seems to have a reason as to why she's gone missing.
I slide my hands into my coat pocket, heading back towards the office to sign out and thank them for their time before making our way to the car. Sam heads for the driver's side again, taking charge and trying to find some peace of mind in such a simple task.
*************
Samantha Spade POV:
Parking Lot of Dalton Middle School
March 11, 2004
11:47 a.m.
I feel Jack staring at me as I start the car. "What?" I question, looking straight ahead before glancing around for traffic. I do what I can to avoid his gaze and I'm sure he notices it.
"It's almost noon. Why don't we head someplace for lunch?"
"I'm not all that hungry. We can pick up subs or something on the way back to the office," I offer. Jack lets out a sigh and relaxes into the passenger seat. "What?" I hear his sigh and I'm not sure I want to know what he's thinking, but I ask anyway.
"You can't keep hiding how you're feeling. It'll catch up with you."
"I'm not hiding it. I talked with Lisa."
"Is she the only one you're going to confide in?"
"Jack," my gaze catches his before looking back at the road.
"It was my son too," his voice pleads, begging me to let him into my heart.
"I never meant for any of this to happen," I whisper, turning into the local sub shop.
"It was as much my fault as it was yours."
I park the car and eye him intently. I don't have an answer for him, and I'm not sure he'd like what I'd want to say anyhow. I feel so emotionally broken and lost right now. If he knew what I was feeling, I know he'd never let me carry a gun.
We head inside the small sub shop and place our orders before paying. Jack offers to pay mine and I don't fight him off. He'll probably eat mine for dinner, since we'll likely be staying late and I have no appetite.
We make our way back out to the car, food in hand, and I hand over the keys for Jack to drive. He eyes me, realizing that the walls I've built up over the past several hours are soon going to be tumbling down. He willingly takes the keys, escorting me inside before opening his own door.
I close my eyes and let out a soft breath. Why does life have to be so complicated? Why can't things go as planned? Why can't I have a normal family with the man I love? Why do I suddenly feel like dying?
**************
Jack Malone POV:
FBI Building
March 11, 2004
12:27 p.m.
I take my lunch with me into my office, remove my coat and take a seat. I clear the overdue paperwork, sliding it into the nearest drawer before unwrapping my food.
I take a bite and glance out to see Sam staring at me. Her eyes look lost, her smile so far gone it might never return. She looks away, her gaze fixed on the computer screen as her food sits at the side of her desk.
I down some soda and exit my office, hoping to have a word with her. She sees me approaching and the frown on her face turns more into a scowl. She lets out a sigh, knowing what I'm about to ask.
"I'll be there in a minute," she tells me and I nod, heading back into my office to finish my lunch.
A few minutes later, Samantha makes her way inside, taking a seat across from me with a sigh of defeat. She doesn't say anything and I suppose I don't expect her to either.
"You should eat," I suggest. I know it's a stupid comment but it's a valid point. She shrugs in response, staring at my desk.
"I haven't been hungry since I was sick. Are we done?" She finally catches my gaze.
"I'm really concerned about you."
"Don't be." She tries to hide the fact with a smile, but I can tell it's forced and she's hurting inside.
"Talk to me," I whisper.
"There's nothing to say." She stands up, heading for the door. She glances back at me, her eyes never wavering. "Worry about your children, not about me." She slips out of my office and, with a sigh, collapses into the chair in front of her desk.
She's trying to keep herself together, at least until the end of the day. I don't know why she's fighting what she's feeling. Is she worried how everyone will see her? I've never known her to care before. She eyes her lunch and tosses it into the wastebasket.
I shake my head in dismay, wishing she would eat. I don't want to see her get sick or become depressed from all that's happened. If I knew what to do to make it all better, I would in a heart beat.
I toss the rest of my lunch and grab the paperwork, trying to sort out some of this mess. I haven't heard back from Vivian, Danny, or Martin yet and I'm beginning to wonder if they've turned up anything. Usually they check in.
I pick up my phone and dial Samantha's desk.
"Agent Spade," she answers.
"Can you do me a favor?" I question. Her head turns towards me.
"You couldn't walk over here?" she laughs softly, sounding a little like herself again.
"I figured you'd have to talk to me this way," I tease. "Can you check the local hospitals and morgues for any Jane Doe's? I think Martin left the number on your desk. You can fax them a photo, so we don't have to run out," I offer, "unless we find a body."
"Yeah, I see the number," she grabs it off the post-it note. "Anything else?"
Her eyes lock with mine.
"Let me know what you find," I answer hanging up and watching as she dials to find out if our missing person has possibly checked in—or potentially checked out.