Chapter 7 - For Richer, For Poorer

"How did you get here so quickly?" Jesse asked, clearly voicing his confusion. "I thought it took a long time to fly from Europe?"

Ron Wagner looked at the shorter man. "I didn't fly in from Europe. I was transferred to Quantico a year ago but have been working in LA for the past two months." As he spoke, he entered the house and started toward the living room.

Surprised by the response, Jesse couldn't help but ask, "Does Amanda know that?"

His comment was totally ignored by Mark, who inquired of Ron, "Have you made any progress on our problem?"

"Wait a minute, how did he even know there was a problem?" Jesse interrupted again.

Ron deemed this question worth answering and matter-of-factly replied, "Mark called me this morning, told me what had happened to Steve, and asked for my help."

Jesse had been by Mark's side for several hours, even before they knew Steve had disappeared, and he hadn't overheard any phone calls to Ron. It didn't make sense. "I've been with Mark the whole time. I never heard him call you."

Mark was growing impatient, wanting to get to the real issue at hand, so to shut down the questioning, he clarified, "I called him from Steve's kitchen while you and Cheryl were yelling at each other."

Still slightly embarrassed about the argument, but finally understanding what had happened, Jesse replied, "Oh, that explains it."

"Good, I'm glad it's settled." Turning to the FBI agent, Mark asked, "Now. Ron, have you found out anything?"

The tall man looked from one doctor to the other and nodded his head.

----------

Steve and Ellen had spent a considerable amount of time feeling all around the inside of the small room which was their prison, Steve being able to only use his right hand. The door was a metal one, which opened outward, and when Ellen confessed that she had tried to ram it with her shoulder, Steve didn't know whether to be impressed or concerned for her safety. There was no doorknob on their side, which obviously meant that the locking device was on the outside and wasn't an option for escape. The walls were flat, smooth concrete as far up as they could reach. Finally, after finding that they had investigated every inch that they could with no success at finding a way out, they retreated back to their spots on the cold hard floor.

"See, I told you there wasn't a way out of here." She seemed pleased to be right, but at the same time, sad also.

"Well, we'll just wait until someone comes back."

"And overpower them?! Maybe we could use the pieces of rope that they tied us up with."

Ellen had misinterpreted what Steve meant, but he didn't think it would hurt to listen to her idea; they had nothing else to do. "How would we do that?"

"I don't know, um, tie them together, make a long piece and pull it tight as they walk into the room to trip them. Use one of your credit cards to jimmey the lock."

Steve couldn't help the chuckle from coming out. "Ellen, Honey. I think you've been watching too many movies," and then under his breath he added, "or reading too many National Scoop articles."

"I heard that. And why wouldn't my ideas work?"

"Mainly because you would have catch them by surprise, and when they open that door, whoever they are, they will have the advantage. For one thing, their eyes will be used to the light, ours won't. By the time our eyes adjust and we figure out what's going on, the element of surprise will be long gone. As for the credit card thing, don't tell me you actually think that works?"

She was quiet for a minute more, so he added, "But it was a good idea."

"Then, maybe one of us could hide behind the door and the other one could act like we're sick-"

Steve interrupted her. "Ellen, the door opens outward. How would we hide behind it?"

"Oh!" She was very frustrated. "I don't know! And the credit card thing does work! How do you think I got into that office at Earthonomy headquarters? Instead of shooting down all of my ideas, you could be helping!"

Wanting to calm her down, Steve offered, "I'm glad that you'rethinking of options for us."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

Knowing that following the present conversation wouldn't produce anything useful, he decided to answer her question and then change the subject. "No, but I am feeling the need to rest a little." In his weakened physical condition, the exploration of the room had depleted his strength more than he had expected. His back, left side, and hand still ached, as well as his head where they had kicked him the night before.

Ellen could hear the fatigue in her husband's voice and, once again, felt like she was to blame and that she was being selfish. She knew that sometimes she could be a little overbearing, and she guessed this was probably one of those times. "I'm sorry, Steve. This is all my fault."

"No, Ellen, this isn't your fault, at least I don't think it is. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and I'm feeling kind of weak."

"You didn't eat all day yesterday?" She was shocked, that was so unlike him.

"My lunch date stood me up," he teased.

Remembering that she was his lunch date, she smiled, but in the dark, her husband missed it.

Steve continued on with his explanation. "Dad got some supper for us, but I lost my appetite when I saw the house."

"The house? What house?" she asked.

"Oh," suddenly realizing that she probably didn't know that their home had been ransacked, he wondered if now was a good time to tell her, but unless he wanted to be badgered to death, he had no choice. "Remember how we've been discussing what color scheme to use in the living room?"

"Yes, but are you bringing that up? I'm really confused," she stated.

He wanted to respond, "That's how I've lived my life since I've met you," but he refrained. Instead, he announced, "Honey, you can redecorate the living room in any color you want, and the kitchen and all the other rooms in the house, for that matter."

"What? Why would I do that?"

He hadn't done a very good job of leading up to the tragedy, but he was feeling so poorly, that he decided it just didn't matter anymore. "Someone got into our house and completely destroyed everything in it."

"How? Why? Couldn't you stop them?"

Steve's sigh contained a world of frustration, being with Ellen was sometimes like living on an eternal Merry-Go-Round, it was fun at first, but after a certain length of time it could become nauseating.

"I wasn't there."

"Why weren't you there, where else did you have to be?"

Steve chose to ignore her and continued answering. "There was no sign of forced entry, so I don't really know how, maybe they took your key when they abducted you. And as to why, it appeared as if they were looking for something."

"We don't have anything that's worth a lot a money, well, except that antique lamp in the living room."

He paused before answering, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit in. "Well, we don't have that anymore either."

Ellen was truly speechless. The lamp had belonged to her great-grandmother. She'd had it appraised and was pleasantly surprised at how much it was worth, but for her the sentimental value far exceeded the monetary one.

"Ohno," finally came out of her mouth.

Steve felt sorry for her and wanted to comfort her, but wasn't sure that he had the strength to move from where he was leaning against one of the walls. "Ellen, come here."

He could see her shadow move closer to him, and, as soon as she was within reach, he wrapped his right arm around her and held her close, thinking it wise to keep his left hand as far away from her as possible.

She sat very still in his embrace for several minutes, as he gently caressed her. Then quietly, she inquired, "We don't have anything left?"

"That's not entirely true," he soothed her, "we've got each other."

----------

"So, the FBI has been investigating Samuel Hackett," Mark stated, almost triumphantly, after looking at a file that Ron had brought along.

"Oh, it's more than just an investigation. Hackett was about to turn state's evidence in return for protection. He told his informant that he needed to collect one more piece of documentation and then he would come in."

"Wait a minute," Jesse interrupted. "Why did Agent Dunleavy tell Mark that the FBI wasn't investigating Hackett?"

"Because it was unofficial." Ron stopped talking and had a look on his face that was clear he was contemplating something.

Mark stared at Ron for a long minute, while Jesse remained quiet, occupied with reading something in one of the files. Finally, the older doctor spoke. "It's ok, Ron, you can trust us."

Jesse looked up from his reading, unaware that his integrity was even under question, but for once, he decided to remain quiet.

Ron snickered. "You're good, Mark."

A smile appeared on the older man's face, knowing that he had assessed the situation correctly.

"Ok," Ron began, "the FBI has been working to get the information from Hackett for a over a year. He's the third man with organized crime information that we've been dealing with."

"What happened to the other two?" Jesse wanted to know.

"They died." He stated it without emotion.

Mark made a slight grunt. "And so did Hackett."

Ron nodded, knowing that it wouldn't take long for the older doctor to come to the same conclusion that he had. "That's right, and we think we know why."

----------

As the day wore on, Steve felt his strength diminish. Ellen had settled close to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and the lack of movement combined with sheer exhaustion had relaxed her enough to fall asleep, although he could tell it wasn't a restful slumber. He had closed his eyes, not really having anything to look at anyway, and tried to contemplate their current situation and what could be done to get out of it.

He couldn't come up with any viable solutions to getting free from their imprisonment, and that bothered him. The room had become very hot and stuffy as the afternoon hours lapsed, and with no food or water, he knew that if someone didn't return for them soon, they would grow weaker and finally pass out and die. He was already experiencing some of the symptoms of dehydration.

But what bothered him even more was that he still had no idea why they had been taken. If Ellen really hadn't seen or taken anything from Hackett's apartment, then why the destruction of their house and why take them captive? It would have been different if they were being tortured for information, but as far as he could tell, they were the lone occupants of the building they were in, wherever it was.

Steve knew that he should broaden his thinking and quit assuming that this had anything to do with Hackett. He could easily make a list of at least thirty people who he had arrested that had sworn to get revenge.

Once again, his aching head and body demanded his full attention, and he was feeling very tired, so he decided to try and get some sleep.

----------

"Wait a minute, let me get this straight." Jesse had listened to Ron's suspicion of a double-agent at the bureau. "You don't have any idea who is leaking information to the mob?"

Ron shook his head. "We have a pretty good idea who one of them might be."

"That means there is more than one," Jesse concluded, happily.

Ron found the young doctor's enthusiasm slightly annoying. "Definitely more than one. There is someone pretty high up in the system, and he or she seems to have a rather large group of followers."

Mark thought about the information for a few moments. "I still don't see how all of this relates to Ellen and Steve?"

"I didn't at first either, but I've come to believe that they are going to try to frame Steve and Ellen. That's probably why they broke in the house, either they left something behind that will definitely be incriminating or they took information with them to set them up later."

"Why go to all that trouble?" Jesse asked.

"Have you ever seen the movie Turner and Hooch'?" Mark asked him.

Jesse and Ron were both caught off guard by Mark's apparent changing of subjects, but Jesse knew him well enough to just play along. "Yeah, the one where Tom Hanks plays the cop who inherits the drooling dog."

"Do you remember who one of the bad guys turned out to be?" And then, without giving him time to answer, Mark continued. "It was the Chief of Police. He was in with the Mafia so deep that he was willing to do anything to protect himself, even kill an officer under his command."

Jesse furrowed his brows. "You think Chief Masters is one of the bad guys?"

"No, it's just an illustration, Jesse. People get greedy and then will go to any length to save themselves."

"Mark, I agree with you," Ron interrupted, "and I've got my suspicions about who we should be after."

"Then why aren't you doing something?"

"I am." Ron smiled showing his confidence in his plan. "There may be some bad informants in the system, but there are also some good ones, too."

Jesse continued to ramble, "Well, if turns out like the movie, then Steve will become Chief of Police and have lots of puppies."

Mark and Ron both looked at the younger doctor, shaking their heads.