Chapter 4 - For Better, For Worse
Ellen pounded her fists on the floor and let out a loud, "Arghh!" She felt angrier and more frustrated than she could ever remember feeling before, but the rumbling from her empty stomach kept her from concentrating clearly, and she couldn't formulate a plan to get out of her present circumstances. When she had left her home earlier that morning, she would have never guessed that the day would unfold the way it did. Samuel Hackett's past was filled with professional Mafia dealings, so when the two FBI agents had arrived at the station to take her away, she hadn't been totally surprised.
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Detective Brett Collins entered followed by two men dressed in suits and ties that Ellen didn't recognize. Without waiting for an introduction, the taller one spoke. "Ma'am, I'm Agent Smyth of the FBI," he held out his identification as he continued, "Are you Ellen Sharp Sloan?"
Both men looked exactly like the stereotype of a federal agent complete with a gun hanging just inside their suit coats, and she nodded her head as she replied, "Yes."
"We are here in connection with the murder of Samuel Hackett. It is my understanding that you were in his apartment prior to his death?"
"I was," she began, "but it was the day be-"
"Ma'am, please don't say anything else," he quickly interrupted. "We need to take you into protective custody. We have received INTEL that your life could be in danger and time is of the essence. We'll hear your story when we have you secured in a safe location."
For a brief moment, Ellen felt a passing fear, but it was quickly replaced with excitement as she realized that this new adventure could provide a basis for a great story. "I need to tell my husband," she announced.
"Ma'am, as you have already been told, time is of the essence," stated the second agent, who had thus far remained nameless. "He'll be notified, but we need to get you out of here as quickly as possible." He was very insistent, taking her by the elbow and helping her to a standing position.
Thinking back on it, Ellen knew that she should have insisted on them finding Steve before they left the precinct, but at the time, she was still annoyed with him, and she only made a few minor objections. They led her away, and she was very pleased when they escorted her to the parking lot and opened the back door of a newer model Lincoln Town Car, indicating for her to get in. She started making mental notes of everything that was happening for the story she would write later and tried to get information out of the agents as they began their journey.
"I don't believe you told me your name," she addressed the nameless agent, who was now sitting in the driver's seat.
"No, Ma'am, I didn't," was his short reply.
Ellen, caught only a little off guard by his curt answer, persisted, "Well, since we're going to be spending some time together, don't you think it would be a good idea for me to know what it is?"
He kept his gaze on the road and after a long minute of silence, stated, "No, Ma'am, I don't think it would be good idea."
"Am I just supposed to call you hey, you'?"
Agent Smyth let a small grin appear on his face for a few moments, and then quickly became serious as he turned his head to look at Ellen. "Mrs. Sloan, why don't you just sit back and enjoy the ride? We're not at liberty to answer any of your questions. Our job is to insure your safety. I'm sure that you can understand why it has to be this way." He gave her a very austere look. "And we do have permission to cuff and gag you if necessary," he stated with a smile on his face as if he were making a joke, but she wasn't convinced.
That was the first time that Ellen had a feeling something wasn't quite right, and, thinking back, she should have kept up her inquiries, but instead, she did as Agent Smyth had requested. When they pulled into the parking lot of a nearby mall, she watched with interest as the unnamed agent got out of the car and walked over to a small, two-door Dodge Neon parked just a few spaces away from them.
Ellen didn't have the clearest view from the backseat, but it appeared to her that her escort was gaining entrance to the car illegally. She couldn't help from blurting out, "He's breaking into that car!"
"No, Ma'am, he's not," Agent Smyth stated.
Mr. Anonymous, a name Ellen had mentally given the man, opened the driver's door, sat down, and then totally disappeared from her view, almost as if he were looking for something on the floor of the vehicle. After a minute, the car's engine started up and it was backed out of the space and driven over toward them.
"Mrs. Sloan, if you'll come with me. For security reasons, we need to switch vehicles."
Ellen was a little surprised by the exchange, but she obeyed Agent Smyth's orders and soon found herself in the tiny backseat of the Neon. Both of her escorts were tall men, and they gave no regard to her discomfort when they adjusted their front seats as far back as possible to accommodate their long legs.
"It's a little squished back here," Ellen complained.
Agent Smyth turned and looked at her, giving her the same smile as before. "Relax, Mrs. Sloan. It shouldn't be that long."
As they pulled out of the mall on to a main street and headed east, she asked, "Could we maybe get something to eat? It is lunchtime, you know."
This time Agent Smyth didn't bother looking at her. "As I just said, it shouldn't be long."
Ellen tried to make herself as comfortable as possible, and while doing so noticed that there was no key in the ignition. She evaluated her situation and realized that she was trapped, there was no way to escape. And she also realized that, even though she hadn't meant to be, she was in trouble again.
Ellen shifted on the cold hard concrete floor trying to get in a comfortable position. She had no idea how many bruises were on her body, but she was sure there were a lot. Right now, she was angry with herself for not trusting her instincts earlier in the day. She had always thought of herself as confident, able to handle any kind of situation that might come her way, but, even though she didn't want to admit it, there had been a time that afternoon when she was terrified.
Mr. Smyth's definition of long' certainly didn't match hers. She guessed that two hours might not be considered a long time if a person were climbing Mount Everest or sailing across the Pacific Ocean, but being confined in the tiny backseat, it seemed like an eternity.
Ellen continued to ask questions that continued to remain unanswered by the two men, which led her to make comments under her breath about the unprofessional treatment that she was receiving. She could tell by the expressions on the faces of her captors, who she no longer believed to be real FBI agents, that she was irritating them, but the silent lull in a conversation had always bothered her, and she couldn't help but speak up. She knew that some people, including her husband, found it an annoying habit, but something inside of her begged for the quietness to be filled, and she had no trouble complying.
Finally, the two men looked at each other and nodded, as if silently agreeing on something and the driver of the car pulled it off of the almost deserted two-lane highway onto the soft shoulder. They had been traveling east out of LA for over an hour, and Ellen had kept track of the roads and knew that she could find her way back, but when the car stopped in the middle of a desolate area, she was suddenly filled with panic.
Both men quickly exited the car, Agent Smyth pulling his seat forward, grabbing her arm, and yanking her out of the backseat. By the time she had ungracefully stumbled out, the other captor grabbed her hands and soon she found them cuffed together behind her back.
"What are you doing?" she yelled, but was quickly rewarded with a sharp slap across the mouth and then a thick cloth was inserted, wrapped around, and tied tightly behind her head. She mumbled loudly through the gag, but another slap quieted her down, and the last thing she saw was a dark hood covering her face and felt it being tied around her neck. She kicked and fought them as they forced her to the ground to tie her feet together. After that, she was shown no mercy as they roughly put her back into the car.
She cried out and yelled through her gag, as she heard the car's engine start up again. She wiggled and kicked within the restrictions of her restraints, but soon, the fear caused from the order of, "Shut up or we'll throw you in the trunk!" caused her to settle down.
Ellen stood up for the probably the hundredth time and felt her way in the darkness to the only door of her small prison. It didn't have a handle or hinges on her side, and, try as hard as she could, she couldn't push it open. She had even backed up to the opposite wall and rammed it with her shoulder, but that only caused what she was sure would be a huge bruise and still the door remained unmoved. She also tried kicking it with no luck.
After arriving, they had removed her handcuffs and locked her in the dark empty room. She quickly freed herself from the rest of the things and then shouted and pounded on the door to be let loose, complaining all of the time about the unfair treatment. Finally, she had collapsed to the floor and placed her ear to the door for a very long time, hoping to hear voices or any kind of noise, for that matter, that would assure her that life still existed outside of her safe house.' But she heard nothing except the beating of her own heart.
She had no idea what time it was. She had her watch on, but it had been impossible to see anything for several hours now. When they first left her alone, a tiny beam of light shone from under the door, and when her eyes adjusted to it, she spent some time surveying the room. Its walls and floor were concrete, and she guessed that it measured about seven feet square. She decided that it must have been a storage closet of some kind, but now it was totally empty, except for her. She knew that nightfall must have come because there was no longer any light emanating from the crack. She pulled her cardigan sweater tighter around her body, hoping to take away the tiny chill she was feeling. She was thirsty, hungry, and tired, but most of all she was lonely, and suddenly tears welled up in her eyes as she wished with all of her heart that Steve would find his way to her soon.
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Mark was exhausted, and he knew that Jesse was probably feeling the same way. They had been treating the victims of a gas explosion all night, however, the last of their patients had been released from the ER and sent up to a regular room. He was thankful that no one had actually died in the explosion, but he knew that some of the victims would have a long road ahead of them before they achieved a full recovery.
After Mark signed the last of the reports, he glanced at his watch. "Wow. It's later than I thought."
"What time is it?" Jesse asked, glancing up from his own paperwork.
"It's almost six in the morning."
Rubbing his eyes, the younger doctor said, "I think I'll lay down for a couple hours in the sleep room. Care to join me?"
"No, I'd better go back over to Steve's house. I somehow doubt that he's had a very restful night. I thought maybe I'd grab some breakfast at a drive-thru restaurant on the way over."
As tired as he was, Jesse didn't want Mark making that trip alone. "Would you like some company?"
The older man smiled at his younger colleague, and, thinking that it would be good to have another person along, he replied, "Only if you really want to."
Jesse flashed one of his contagious smiles. "You know me, I never miss a free meal."
After cleaning up, the two of them carried out the plan, and when they arrived, they walked up to the front door, Mark carrying the bag of food. He rang the doorbell and they waited patiently for a minute and then rang it again. When no one answered it the second time, Mark took his cell phone out. "Maybe he doesn't know it's us." He punched in the number and as it rang the expression on his face grew more worried.
Jesse didn't need to be told that Mark wasn't receiving any answer, and he started pounding on the front door. "Steve! It's us! Steve! Buddy!"
Two very concerned doctors stood on the front porch, and finally Jesse tried the doorknob and was surprised when it turned freely in his hand. As they entered the house, they immediately noticed that the carpet was stained and that the nap was roughed up as if something had been dragged across it. The bloody path seemed to start in the hallway and lead to the front door, and, without searching the house, both men instinctively knew that it would be empty.
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Ellen must have actually fallen asleep, because now her uncomfortable slumber was being disturbed by noises coming from outside the door. When it was opened and the light flooded the small room, she squinted her eyes and found that she instinctively put her hand up in front of them to block the brightness. She was too sleepy to react quickly enough, and before she knew it, she heard something drop on the floor, and the door was closed and being locked again.
"No!" she yelled, running in the direction of it, but before she could reach it, she tripped and fell on top of the thing that had been put there. A groan of pain surprised her, however, and she knew instantly it wasn't a something, but a someone — her husband.