Disclaimer see Chapter 1

Jack rubbed his eyes; he was losing the fight against fatigue. The day had been busy. The team, minus Samantha of course, had worked frantically on the case. It was the usual programme: canvassing the neighbourhood, talking to teachers and friends, eventually contacting the media and then monitoring the sightings, trying to detect a pattern to them. But nothing. They had not managed to discover a clear lead in this case. There was no motive within the boy's family nor was there any reason to suspect the friends' families of any wrong doing. While forcing himself to direct the main thrust of his energy on the case, he had also pursued his own investigation into Samantha's potential disappearance. Luckily, at this stage, he could still gather information by phone. That way he had found out that she had indeed boarded the flight she had purchased tickets for and had also picked up the rental car at the airport. That was where he had lost her trail. In the meantime, he had also contacted Quantico again, but they had not heard anything new from her either. The realisation was painful. He was now at a point where he had to consider her missing. By the next morning he would probably have to officially file a report and launch an investigation. He doubted that he would be allowed to be involved in it. It was no secret to Van Doran that his objectivity was compromised where Samantha was involved. He checked his watch. It was almost 2 a.m.—time to go home.

~~~

Pain. White light, brighter than anything she had ever seen burned her eyes and filled her skull with pain. She tried to move away, but had no control over her body. It didn't even seem to be there. It was the strangest thing. It scared her more than anything. She was more terrified than she had been in the bookstore, slowly bleeding to death. At least then she had known what was happening; now she was completely clueless. For all she knew, she could be crazy or this could be some hellish version of the afterlife. Suddenly she noticed that the light intensity had diminished and the pain quickly became more manageable. At first she dismissed it as her nerves playing tricks on her, but then she was certain her other senses were returning, albeit only sporadically. She heard muted, intermittent noises. She couldn't identify them, but in her current situation she was happy enough to be hearing something.

~~~

When the shrill sound of the alarm clock brutally interrupted his sleep, he felt as if he had fallen asleep only ten minutes ago. He recalled flashes from his dream. He didn't know what he had dreamed about, but it had been unsettling and violent. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to clear his head, when on top of it all, a ringing sound exacerbated his headache. His first instinct was to ignore it, but then he thought better of it. He might be missing important news regarding the case. It took him two more ringings until he finally found his cell phone under the bed.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Did you just wake up?"

"No, I was about to leave," he lied, not wanting to explain what had kept him up so late.

"We finally have a lead. A friend of the family called, and she claims she saw the boy this morning near the house of his grandmother."

"Isn't the grandmother on vacation?"

"So we thought. I tried calling, but no one picked up. Martin and Danny are on their way there to check out the lead."

"Okay. I'll meet you at the office in half an hour." Jack hung up. Half an hour was more than ambitious.

A shower and two cups of coffee later, his head had cleared up enough to think. As much as he liked that, it also brought on more worries about Samantha and what he would find out when he got to the office. By now the police would probably have responded to his enquiry.

Rarely had the drive to his office seemed to take so long. Every traffic light tested his patience. He nervously drummed his fingers while waiting for the last traffic light to turn green. Finally he arrived at his parking spot in the FBI garage. Normally he took the elevator upstairs, but today he didn't bother. Out of breath, he arrived at the office where Vivian was already waiting for him.

"I didn't think you'd make it in thirty minutes." She commented in lieu of a good morning.

 "Almost," he said, checking his watch. It had taken him all of forty-two minutes. "Is there any news?"

"Not yet. Danny and Martin are still stuck in morning traffic. I checked out the grandmother and this family friend, but nothing interesting. One thing, though, there was another phone call about a sighting. Two construction workers claim to have seen the boy in the neighbourhood of his grandmother this morning. They said he seemed lost, but when they tried to talk to him, he ran away. NYPD is checking out the area now. It seems like we might be on to something."

Jack forced himself to stay focussed on what Vivian was telling him. "But we still don't know why he ran away from home in the first place."

"How do you know he ran away?"

"Everything seems to indicate that he did. None of the people who saw him noticed anyone else with him."

"So what do you suggest?"

"I say we talk with his parents again. I have the feeling that they might know more."

"Okay, let's go."

Jack hesitated. "I have something to take care of here. Can you go and talk to the parents?"

Vivian looked at him, but eventually agreed. "Sure. I'll keep you informed."

Jack was glad that she had let him get away so easily. She had surely noticed that something had been weighing on him. She knew him too well not to. But it was not like Vivian to ask, as she wasn't one to pry into the personal lives of others. With Vivian on her way, Jack retreated into his office. As soon as he had opened the door, he saw the faxed page that had arrived during his absence. He dashed over to the fax machine and scanned the page, forcing himself to slow down so he wouldn't miss anything. He started off with the part he dreaded most—the Jane Does found in the area where he presumed Samantha had gone missing. Nothing. Three women had been found, but none of them matched her described. One of them was too old, one too young and the third Jane Doe was African American. He sighed, somewhat relieved, and went on to the next list.

There, after maybe ten minutes of reading, one entry peaked his interest. Caucasian female, blonde hair, late twenties to early thirties, had been found at the roadside, presumably the victim of a car accident. A badly burnt car had been found a bit farther downhill. He could feel his heart beat faster. That was what he had hoped for and had been afraid of at the same time. It meant nothing, he tried to reassure himself. It could be any woman. There were millions of women in the country fitting that very generic description. Still, it all fit. This was the area that Samantha would have travelled through on the way to the seminar. Jack took a couple of deep breaths, trying to remain calm. His anxiety surprised him. He was used to handling tough situations and had normally few problems maintaining his calm. Not so when Samantha was involved, though. He vividly recalled the seconds leading up to his decision to trade himself for her when she had been held hostage by Barry Mashburn. He had been everything but rational in that moment. His rational self would have thought of his own safety and of his two girls at home. But, to his shame, not one fleeting thought had been devoted to them during those crucial seconds. Now the stakes were far lower, but in a way, it felt worse because now he was powerless—he had no influence over Samantha's fate. All he could do was try to find out what had happened to her.

tbc