Chapter Four

Amanda looked up into the eyes of her captor and tried to hold her gaze. Maybe that way the woman wouldn't realise how terrified she was.

"So, you are Amanda Bentley. One of Mark Sloan's little group of crime fighters. And, if I have been doing my research correctly, which I assure you I have; you are involved with the man who killed my babies." The hand of the other woman swept round, slapping her hard across the face and, unable to save herself, Amanda crashed to the floor her cheek instantly on fire.

"Oh, for goodness sake, you're as weak as he was." Melosa grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the woman in front of her back to an upright position. She was on her knees with her hands in cuffs behind her back. Just the way Melosa preferred all her acquaintances to be.

"You know you really should have a password on your cell phone. But thankfully you don't and this time I can call your friends and let them know what has happened to you."

The fear in Amanda increased even more as Melosa leant over and ran one long red fingernail down the side of her face, gently enough to make her shiver.

ooo

"Detective Banks, I really don't care if you have been put in charge of the investigation by the President himself, this is a kidnapping, that is a federal crime and I am taking over." Ron had been called back from the case he was working only to find that his love had been taken from him by a woman who he knew was capable of almost anything.

"And I will tell you what I would tell any of the homicide detectives under my command, which is most of them while Steve is on sick leave; you are too close to this case, Agent, so back off and let me do my job." Cheryl squared up to Ron Wagner, knowing that if she showed any weakness at all her position would be irrevocably weakened.

"If your people had been on the ball, they would have realised this woman would be coming back and stopped her before she got to Amanda and we wouldn't be in this position now." Ron spat the words back at the smaller woman in front of him and glared at her.

"Stop it; stop it, both of you! This isn't getting us anywhere." The voice belonged to Mark and as he spoke everyone turned to look at him.

"Dad's right. Besides, we don't know that Amanda has been taken by … by … it could just be a co-incidence." Steve couldn't say her name aloud and didn't really believe what he was saying was true, but he needed to at least get the possibility out in the open.

The panic which had reduced just slightly over the past two days was making its presence felt once more and Steve had to clench his fists and concentrate on the pain that action caused to keep it at bay.

"Yeah right, captivity has warped your brain, Sloan."

"We need to do what we did last time. Concentrate on finding Melosa Arriaga." Mark ignored the last comment, knowing that to acknowledge it would give credence to something which was blatantly untrue. "Steve, you need to do a photo fit picture. You're the only one of us who has seen her. We need to know what she looks like."

Steve swallowed hard before looking at his father. The support and reassurance he needed to do a job he dreaded wasn't there, although some of the enthusiasm had returned to the older man's voice, his eyes were still lifeless and Steve's panic increased another level inside of him.

"Steve?" Cheryl's voice was soft and comforting as she moved closer to her partner and she saw Jesse come a little nearer also. "Ann Jackson will be working at the station in the morning. Why don't you come in at nine and go through this with her?"

Steve just nodded and felt a sliver of relief. Ann was one of the best forensic artists there was. Maybe sitting down with her and actually drawing the picture, talking about how she had moved, how the evil had glinted in her eyes, how her hair had fallen. He stopped abruptly, he could only think this through and discuss it once, and he had a feeling that a visit, however short, to James Barrington would be needed immediately afterwards, otherwise his value to this investigation would be extremely limited. He realised that Cheryl was still talking and forced his attention back onto her.

"… I've made arrangements for there to be officers at the front and back of your property tonight. Mark, anywhere you go someone will go too. Steve, the same will happen with you. Jesse, you have to be considered at risk as well, so I have an officer waiting outside ready to go home with you. Agent Wagner, this protection is available to you should you wish to avail yourself of it." Cheryl wanted to feel sympathy for the man, she knew he must be suffering but she also knew that any emotion would be wasted on someone as focused and intolerant as he was.

"Save your manpower for the search, Detective. I'll be fine." Ron was about to speak again when the phone rang and the entire house sank into an anxious silence.

Cheryl indicated that Mark should answer as it got to its third ring, and the cop sitting with headphones on and a bank of equipment in front of him went to work.

"Mark?" The one word was heard loud and clear over the speaker which Mark had engaged as he picked up the receiver. "Please, Mark …"

"Amanda, Honey, where are you?" Mark's voice was suddenly strong, almost ridiculously so, as he tried to show no fear.

"Mark … tell them … tell them not to come. Arghhh." Amanda was suddenly gone on a scream and then another voice, one which caused Steve's blood to turn to ice, came on the line.

"You really should have left him to rot in the desert, and you, Mark, will you be so lucky next time? She will die, all of you will, one by one. You're living in a house of cards, Doctor, and I will make it fall."

The dial tone shouted out that the call had ended and looking towards the technician Cheryl saw him shake his head. It hadn't been long enough.

"Steve!" Jesse had spoken very little since he had returned but he had felt his friend waiver beside him and now he gently helped him into a chair and watched as all the colour drained from his face, leaving his blue eyes to speak of his terror.

"I'm sorry, I am so sorry." The fear made his stomach rebel and he knew that the little he had eaten of the barbeque meal was about to return, Jesse saw it too and hastily placed a quickly emptied fruit bowl next to him, knowing that any good done over the past seventy two hours had just been eradicated.

ooo

The riding crop, which had been held underneath her chin as she made the call, had swished down so near to her face that Amanda had felt the hairs closest to her hair band move in the draft it caused and she had screamed. Deep inside herself she knew that none of those listening to the call would take any notice of her plea, but she'd had to try, if only because she had no doubt that anyone who came after her would be killed too.

Melosa had left her alone as soon as the call ended; she was still on her knees not having the energy to even try to get to her feet. The cuffs which held her arms firmly behind her back were similar to the ones around her ankles and the fear that her vulnerability caused was making her breath come in gasps.

A picture of her two sons came up into her mind unbidden and tears filled her eyes. The only comfort was that they were with her mother whose loving face was the next one that she could see and the resultant tears slipped down her face. She had felt no danger, had had no idea that she was being followed, until a black SUV had gently forced her off the road.

The words of annoyance died on her lips as the barrel of a gun had appeared through the glass by her left temple and she had stammered out her plea.

"Please, please, just take my purse. I don't have anything else."

"It's you I want. So if you would just step out of the vehicle."

The words had been spoken pleasantly enough, but the menace behind them was clear and she had done as instructed immediately.

The cuffs had been put on her wrists and then a blindfold was tied around her eyes. After this had been done she was pushed into what she presumed was the back seat of the SUV which had blackened windows and the usually reassuring smell of a new car.

"Who are you? And what do you want with me?"

"My name is Melosa and I think you know what I want."

The words had seared themselves into her heart making it miss a beat and after that she had said nothing.

ooo

He hadn't even had the comfort of his slippers to ease his torment. Somehow the pink and fluffy footwear seemed too frivolous for the situation they found themselves in and Jesse had helped Steve put a pair of sneakers on as the evening cooled a little and he had felt the chill of the floor permeating his body. As he now sat at the dining table looking out at the ocean he felt no reassurance from the fact that there were two officers at the front of the house and the same number at the rear.

He had to find Amanda before she was harmed any more than she had been. The scream lingered in his mind, and his entire body ached to know what it was that had caused it. His entire body ached anyway and Steve cursed the limitations which were still in place that stopped him heading off into the night and taking charge of the investigation himself.

Jesse asked to stay over and Steve had discovered that his friend's car had broken down just about a mile along PCH; he had been waiting for the wrecker when Cheryl had drawn up and brought him back to the beach house.

Jesse had long ago passed the stage in his life where he had to rely on the unreliable and Steve knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the vehicle had been tampered with. He had spoken quietly to Cheryl as soon as he discovered what had happened and the car was being taken to the station for a thorough check out.

"Steve, I've persuaded Mark to go to bed. If you don't do the same I'm gonna start on you." Jesse had seemingly come out of nowhere and Steve jumped as he heard his voice.

"No, no, I'll be fine."

"No, you won't. I can go through your list of injuries if you like and then just add sleep deprivation and foul mood to the end of them. I can even give you my medical opinion as your doctor of choice. But the main thing I can think of is this. Amanda needs you to help find her, apart from her children, you, Mark and Ron are her life. Also, you're the only one of us who knows what this woman looks like. You have to get some sleep so you can go and do a good photo-fit session." Jesse paused for a moment. "Steve, please."

The moment Jesse lowered his voice to plead with his friend Steve was lost. The emotions that were so close to the surface the entire time threatened him and without another word he just nodded his head and made his way painfully and slowly towards the guest bedroom he had been using since he came home from the hospital hearing his friend follow him as he did so.

The bed seemed to mock him. He knew that he needed to lie down and let the day go. Jesse was right; he couldn't help if he didn't get enough sleep, but if he closed his eyes then his dreams would return. Since Amanda had been taken he had found himself back in his waking nightmare, he didn't know if he could cope with that and the ones which had been with him in the darkness almost continually since he had left Community General.

Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself Steve ignored the pain it caused, and Jesse look of concern, as he began to undo the buttons on his shirt. The short sleeves made it easy for him to shrug it off his left arm but he needed help with his right.

"Let me." Carefully Jesse undid the support on Steve's right arm and gently eased the shirt completely off; but as he did so he caught sight of Steve's back in the bedroom mirror and saw the reaction the same view caused his friend.

"Don't say anything. I'll deal with the rest." Steve knew he couldn't cope with any kindness and he saw Jesse nod and he knew he understood.

Jesse began to replace the sling, trying to minimize the pain he knew he was causing his friend, and when he was finished he made sure that Steve's pain meds were waiting for him by the bed. "You ok with those?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks, Jess."

Knowing that there was nothing else he could do Jesse smiled before departing. "G'night, Steve. Sleep well."

He couldn't answer, couldn't take his eyes off the sight in the mirror. The lattice work of scars and some still barely healed wounds made him think back to his conversation earlier in the evening with Amanda. Melosa had used the whip on him with undisguised enjoyment and he didn't think any of them would be able to cope if she did the same thing to his beautiful and gentle friend.

The memories were already beginning to crowd in on him. The sound of the whip, the birds which he remembered circling overhead as he stood in Death Valley, the unbearable desperation as he discovered that his dad was hundreds of miles away when he needed him. With a groan he sat heavily on the bed and, leaving his pants and sneakers on, lay back and prepared to fight whatever demons he had to in order to prepare himself for the morning.

Gradually the house descended into an uneasy silence until everyone was supposedly either asleep or resting their bodies in bed. Just after two in the morning a door creaked open and a bare footed man made his way towards the doors out onto the deck. Taking no notice of the officer who could be seen sitting in a lawn chair at the top of the steps he sat at the table and rested his head in his hands. The extreme anxiety and almost unbelievable loneliness that were invading his very being surprised him and, with a deep sigh, Ron Wagner said a prayer for the woman he loved.

ooo

Breakfast would have been ignored if Jesse hadn't insisted on it. There was no way that he could go through an entire day without at least a cup of coffee and a slice or two of toast. As soon as that had been dealt with though Steve and his shadowing officer had climbed into the squad car and headed off for the station.

Ron had made no attempt at conversation but drained a cup of black coffee before heading back to his field office to, as he said, get things moving and then Jesse and Mark found themselves alone.

Part of Jesse had wanted to go with Steve. Not only to be a strength to his friend when he needed it but also because he was interested to see how the process was actually undertaken. Mark needed him most though, and Steve would have Cheryl close by, so he had pushed aside his natural curiosity and desperate desire to be involved once again in the search for a friend and stayed with his mentor.

Mark had sat and watched his house empty around him and tried to fight his way out of the fog which seemed to have invaded his very being. The last few weeks had been a nightmare that he hadn't been able to believe was happening and, just as it appeared to be over, the entire thing had started up again.

The journey from Nevada to Community General Hospital had both scared and relieved him. He had needed to be with his son, to feel his reassuring presence by his side, but the entire time he had been on the move he had been scared. Ron had been with him and he was grateful for the company he had provided, but he had never felt quite so alone in the world since Katherine had left him.

He had thought that once he got to the hospital, once he had been reunited with his friends and his son, that things would begin to improve but he realised now, as he sat trying to remember what he had planned to do this morning, they hadn't changed at all. He didn't seem to be able to get past the fact that he had done the one thing he had tried all along to avoid. He had led his son into danger and almost got him killed.

The weight of guilt once again threatened him and Mark got to his feet suddenly, causing the wound in his chest to pull and extract a gasp from him.

"Mark, steady, what is it you want? I'll go get it for you." Jesse was on his own feet in an instant a look of concern on his face.

"The tape." He realised what it was he had thought of in the middle of the night. "We need a copy of the tape that was made when Amanda called. If we take it to the hospital we can get it checked out."

"Bannerman."

Jesse smiled. He remembered the day spent in a room full of cigar smoke as tape after tape of celebrity interviews on a radio show had been listened to and compared to the voice of a man that, at the time, they thought was a killer.

Mark nodded his head in agreement. "That's him. He took the speech off a tape and you figured out that the guy was a cab driver. We don't want that type of information this time, but he may be able to help."

"We'll have to use your car, mine's in the shop." Jesse didn't want to worry his friend, even though he himself was very concerned by the fact that his new blue BMW had suddenly died on him the previous evening and he had coasted to a stop on a, thankfully, reasonably deserted stretch of road.

"I have a police escort, we can use his car." Mark was making his way to the door as he spoke, seemingly unable, or unwilling, to make the connection that Jesse had about his car, and even though Jesse was pleased to see the spark of life in his friend he was still very concerned for him.

ooo

The forensic artist had been at the station already when Steve arrived. She had a file in front of her and was looking at the photo of the victim and making a few notes to help her when she began working with a witness to an attack which had resulted in a pointless death. She smiled as Steve entered the room and put everything away, knowing that the usually cool and calm detective was hurting and would want to get the unpleasant job over as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't come to you, Steve, I know you're on medical leave right now. But this murder has to take precedence." She indicated the file as she spoke. "The victim was only twenty-one and she was found shot in a parking lot in Studio City." Ann Jackson began drawing a general outline of a woman's face as she spoke. "If the witness arrives before we're finished I may have to go deal with that first."

"That's ok. I understand. Let's try to get as much accomplished as we can before they get here." Although he wouldn't admit it to the young woman in front of him if she left him alone with the picture he wasn't sure if his courage would fail him and he would flee.

"So, she was young, what early twenties?"

"Early to mid twenties I would say. She was of Mexican descent and had almost black eyes." He closed his own as he spoke and Melosa's face came up in front of him. He managed to suppress the gasp that threatened him and looked around the room for something to concentrate on. Anything that would take his mind away from the more unpleasant memories associated with his task.

"I've started off with an oval face, but only because it is easiest. You tell me what I need to do and I can change it in any way you want." Ann could see that he was suffering and so she explained things a little more than she usually would to such an experienced officer, hoping to draw him out of himself and away from his fears.

Steve nodded. He had worked with a variety of forensic artists over the years and they all did things in slightly different ways, just as most cops did. Ann was the best of the bunch at the moment, maybe because she was a woman, he didn't know, but she seemed to have an inbred understanding of what to do to bring the drawings to life. This time though part of him wasn't so sure that he wanted that to happen.

Gradually the shape of the face became slightly more rounded and, as he described and then corrected those descriptions, the lips and nose were added. Cheek bones, or the appearance of them, changed the face, making it more or less three dimensional and the shading which was added as well gave the picture a skin tone which matched his recollections almost exactly. The general shape of the eyes was altered and the brows were fashioned and arched. The hair began to appear and that was when Steve felt the familiar cold grip of the fear he was fighting begin to strengthen.

"Steve, are you alright?" Ann's voice sounded concerned in his ear and he looked at her.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just doing your job too well." He tried a smile but it wasn't very successful.

"Thank you." Ann bowed her head slightly. She would take the compliment even though she knew that her work produced pain as well as results. "How long was her hair?"

"It came down to about …" Steve paused for a moment as he thought. It had been longer in the back than the front. He reached out with his left hand and drew an imaginary line just below Ann's shoulder and she nodded.

"Ok. So we're talking about this length, yes, and straight?" She saw an almost imperceptible nod and the first strong strokes showed what the hair would look like if it were indeed over the front of her left shoulder. "How did she wear it? Up, down, or half and half?"

This time he really did have to stop and think. When he had first met her, how had her hair been then? He could see her, smiling, appearing to be friendly, and her hair had been tousled by the wind, which caught it and moved it freely. "Down, she had it down."

"Like this?" the pencil darted across the page again and this time it finished off the hair; one side was still in front of the shoulder but the other wasn't and Steve nodded his head. The picture showed easily both ways that she looked.

"Did she have bangs?" Again the question floored him.

"I … I don't know." He looked down at his left hand, the right still being in its sling, the scarring on his wrist was already fading a little and he held the marks in his gaze as he tried to cover his embarrassment at being unable to answer the simple question.

"Look at this." Ann slid the tablet of paper under his nose and he stared at it. Something wasn't right and so he shook his head. "Ok, hold on a little minute here."

The room was silent and then once again he was instructed to look at the picture. This time his palms felt clammy, his heart rate increased and his mouth was suddenly dry.

"That's her. My, God, that's her." Steve looked at the woman on the page and then up to the artist who had drawn her. Immediately he was aware of the fact that Ann, now she could look objectively at what she had done, was also shocked.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's just a coincidence that's all."

"What is?" Steve knew what whatever she was about to say it wasn't going to be any type of coincidence.

"This woman, see?" She bent down and picked up the file that she had been looking at when Steve first arrived and showed him the crime scene photo.

He held it in his hand and looked again at the, now lifeless, face of the young woman who had surprised him outside the elevator at Community General.

ooo

The air in Doctor Bannerman's room didn't seem any clearer or sweeter than the last time he had been there, and for a moment Jesse wondered idly what the smoke did to all the expensive machinery housed there.

"So, Doc Sloan, Doc Travis, long time no see. What can I do y'for this time?" The long cigar flew around in his hand as he spoke and both men took a step back to avoid the fumes.

"We have a tape we need you to work your magic on." Mark handed over the copy of his answer phone cassette which the technician, who seemed to have set up home at the beach house, had made for him before they left.

"Sure, sure, always pleased to help. Let's see here." He slid the tape into the player and began listening to it. "Mark? Please, Mark …" The voice was painful to listen to and Jesse and Mark's expressions told Doctor Bannerman that this was no ordinary case they were working on.

"So, I'm guessing you know who this is?" The otolaryngologist looked at the two men before him and saw them both nod.

"You do too. That's Doctor Amanda Bentley." Mark's voice was tinged with the anger which was beginning to lift the fog he had been living in lately.

"That sweet child who looks at dead bodies all day?" Bannerman shook his head. "I was just down there a little while ago. Right, we need to move on this one then." He began to flick switches and twist knobs and both Jesse and Mark felt a surge of hope as another person joined the fight to find and free their friend.

ooo

Cheryl had been called to the room where Ann and Steve were and together the three of them had discussed what they knew. Then, as the other witness arrived, the two homicide detectives left the artist to her work and found themselves an empty interview room for a few minutes of quiet discussion.

"How can you be sure that this is a set up?" Cheryl's voice sounded slightly sceptical and Steve had to admit to not being surprised.

"Think about it for a moment; she kidnaps me," he ignored the anxiety his statement caused, now wasn't the time, "and who goes after her? Dad, Jesse, Amanda and Ron with you holding the fort here. She told me that she was after my father, that if I would only give her his phone number she … she would let me go and just kill him." This time he had to close his eyes for a moment to gather himself.

"When I didn't do that she shot him and left me … well, she just left me. But she didn't succeed and so she's come back for another go. She told dad this morning that he was living in a house of cards and she was going to make it fall.

"You do that by just giving it a little nudge. So she scares me witless at the hospital, using a look alike just similar enough to do the job. Jesse's car breaks down so he can't save Amanda and she's kidnapped. The one witness to her plans so far is then gunned down in a parking lot in Studio City." He paused for a moment. He had her, he knew it, he could see it in her eyes.

"That seems far too much to be a coincidence. And the photo, don't forget the photo. No one but her could have sent that." The picture had been dealt with by forensics and then both Mark and Steve had looked at it. Whilst it brought back extremely unpleasant, frightening memories for Steve he knew that it heaped more and more guilt onto his already suffering father and that made him feel guilty too.

"Look, Steve, I think you're actually right, but I'll need to run all this past Newman. You go home and I'll contact you later in the day. There isn't anything you can do but rest and let us look for her. We have people out doing door to door but it's not easy when your victim is taken the way she was. I know you …" She paused as Steve's cell phone began to ring in his pocket.

"Sloan … Dad? You did, that's great … no, I'm done here. I … I thought I'd come speak to James so I'll be right over … yeah, bye." He closed his phone, disconnecting the call and then turned, his blue eyes finally bright again, as he spoke to his partner. "Dad and Jesse have gone to the hospital to work on the tape."

"What tape?" Cheryl looked confused.

"The tape out of the machine that recorded Amanda's call last night. Like I said they're at Community General, I'm gonna go meet up with them there."

He got to his feet and made his way slowly, but definitely with a slightly lighter step, towards the door. Maybe things were moving after all.

ooo

The journey to the hospital had been made in almost total silence. Steve didn't know his escort, but thought he looked almost impossibly young. He couldn't have looked that way when he joined the LAPD, could he? He pushed the thought aside. He knew what he was doing; he was thinking about anything rather than concentrate on the matter at hand.

Amanda was one of his best friends and at the moment he had no idea how to find her. She had put herself in danger for him on numerous occasions and the thought of failing her now was almost unbearable.

She had a graceful quality about her that he had never seen in anyone else. She was elegant and beautiful and he loved her dearly. She also had a temper on her which scared the living daylights out of him and he had no intention of disappointing her either.

"We're here, Lieutenant." The voice told him what he himself had just realised and he carefully undid his seatbelt and opened his car door.

"I would make your way into the vehicle next to you if I were you, my darling."

The voice almost made him loose touch with reality and for a moment he thought he might fall.

"I don't think so." He had no idea where the words came from but he knew they were probably a mistake.

"Unless you want this fine officer to die by your hand I would do as I ask." He turned then and saw that the young man had a gun pressing into him just behind his ear and Steve knew that to refuse would put the death of yet another person on his conscience. He climbed into the rear of a black SUV, heard the cry of his police guard and saw him fall to the ground. Then with a smile on her face, which could only be described as conniving, she pointed the gun towards him and fired.