Revenge II.
Two month went by since they last heard from Jack. The drawing that was made with John's help was sent to every single police department and sheriff office, all around the country and it was released on the internet amongst the pictures of most wanted criminals.
Life went back to normal again, John was working with full license, Sam and Bailey were talking about moving under one roof and the team solved nine cases successfully. To Sam's relief after their not so successful first session, John came back to her, and she learned a lot about his past. After a few weeks they became even closer friends and Sam started to understand his manners more and more. All in all everything seemed to be fine and Sam was happy.
They planned a romantic evening with Bailey for Saturday, and she was looking forward to it. As it was Friday afternoon already, she was sitting in her office over some files but to tell the truth she wasn't concentrating on her wok. She was rather daydreaming. After some more hopeless attempt she decided to go home.
In the outer office she glimpsed John at his desk and stepped to his side.
"Hey" she called to him.
He looked up at her and smiled.
"I thought there's nobody else here."
"I'm already on my way out. How long do you want to stay on a Friday evening?"
He shrugged.
"I have nothing to do at home."
"Don't you have a date or something?" After all their talking Sam realized that despite his reputation John didn't really have a wild social life.
"Not today. I'm preparing myself for Chloe." In the last months John started to babysit Chloe when Sam and Bailey wanted to spend some time alone, as Angel was often out of town because of her new project.
"She can hardly wait your evening together! What did you promise her?"
"It's our secret." He answered mysteriously.
"All right, then. Just don't spoil my twelve-years-long work!"
"Chloe is a good girl."
"Yes, I know. Then see you tomorrow! At six?"
"I'll be there."
With that Sam left and John stayed alone with his much appreciated paperwork.
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John started his report about the perquisition yesterday, but the ringing of the phone cut it off. His irritation faded quickly when he heard the news. He made some important calls and then dialed Bailey's number.
"Bailey Malone."
"John here. I have great news."
"Shoot it."
"We have a sign of Jack. You won't believe it, but he worked as a sheriff in Otis, California. I'm sure he used a false name there but we have a photo and his fingerprints. They will have sent the file by Monday. He disappeared two weeks ago, and his deputy found the wanted-poster we sent out."
"I'll come in."
"You don't have to. I called the central and they give out the warrant. Enjoy your weekend."
After some hesitation Bailey agreed, as he could do nothing more in the office.
"I'll tell Sam! Thank you and see you tomorrow."
"Bye."
It was really good news, however they still didn't know where Jack was but they'll have more details about him and it will be easier to find him. Now he went back to typing more enthusiastically and didn't stop until it was dark outside.
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After every good comes something bad, as his mother used to say. This day wasn't different at all. John was on his way home and didn't think about anything special, maybe only about his dinner that was rather overdue. The road was practically empty, the last car he saw went by five minutes ago, so he wasn't really concentrating on his driving.
When he glimpsed the dark figure on the road he had to step into the break with all his strength but could stop the car in time. He pulled over, turned on the emergency warning lights of his car, and got out.
The dark figure was a human body, a female body to be precise. It must be a hit and run! John went closer and bent over the body to check if she is alive or not. She was a young woman, maybe in her late twenties and was breathing, even if only hollow. When she examined her further she could establish that she wasn't overrun. She was beaten and there was a deep knife induced wound on the right side of her chest.
"That much of a quiet evening!" he said out loud and he stood up to go back to his car and call for help.
He sensed the headlights and heard the noise of the engine, but was sure that everybody can see his warning lights, and in that same moment the woman on the ground moaned so he bent over her again.
When he heard the car fastening instead of slowing down, he straightened but it was too late already. Everything happened so fast. John saw the headlights and felt the impact but then nothing and in the next moment he was lying on the concrete and watching the stars above. Something floated in his eyes – probably blood – and heard running footsteps. The driver – who else could it be? – came closer but John couldn't make out his figure, his vision went dim. He was fighting to stay awake but all his efforts were in vain. I'll be late again, he thought incoherently and then passed out.
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He woke up and heard a whimpering sound, but didn't even realize it came from his own mouth. It was dark. His head hurt and he didn't remember where he was. Was he blind? But then he realized that his eyes were closed. It took a lot of struggling to open them and there was not much thanks in it when he managed. The light was blinding, he felt nauseated and dizzy. He made a desperate attempt to turn and threw up, there was an awful pain in his right leg and pelvis, so that he wanted to scream but instead he just blacked out again.
His second wakening wasn't much better then the first one. He still didn't know where he was or who he was by the way and had no strength to think about it. He threw up again, mumbled some incoherent words and had a feeling that he should do something more, but he just couldn't and fell back into oblivion again.
The third time he woke up, his mind was much clearer. He was overrun by a stupid idiot. He opened his eyes and would have cursed, but only some moaning came out of his dry and sore throat. He wasn't in a hospital bed, nor in an ambulance or on the street. He was in a dark room that was lightened by a single light-bulb and was lying on stone-floor that was more than cold. When he moved he felt that his right arm was handcuffed to something and felt a sharp pain in his arm and shoulder but it was still nothing compared to the pain in his leg. He had some experience and strongly guessed that his leg was broken, somewhere around the knee, but the light wasn't enough to see it.
"I've been already afraid, that I made a too good job with you!" John heard suddenly a cheerful voice. "But I see you are awake at last."
Then the stranger turned on a flashlight and shone with it straight in John's eyes. He blinked in the sharp light, and couldn't see anything, but heard the man coming closer.
"You know I extremely hate when my plans are messed up. It doesn't happen often, though."
The man put down the torch and bent even closer, so that they were face to face. It was Jack. Of course, who else could it be?
"I've always thought about you as somebody who is just there, you know. Nothing important. But you saved Malone and because of you I lost my cover." He laughed out as if he had told something funny. "Actually I should thank you for that one! I was fed up with that stupid sheriff anyway and one needs some excitement in life, don't you agree?"
John didn't answer but Jack clearly didn't awaited it as he continued.
"So, I started to investigate a little bit. And I realized that you are still interesting and full of secrets. I never failed in getting somebody's files but you have some that are classified as highly confident. First, I found nothing about you under age seventeen."
John involuntary clamped his left fist. He didn't want to hear this whole sick speech but had obviously no choice.
"First, as I said. Then I found the deliverance that changed your name. O'Doyle, what? Quite a famous name, or should I say notorious?"
John made a desperate movement to pull further from the murder but the wall didn't let him.
"You are not very talkative! I brought you here to have a little chat, and we will have it, like it or not!" his voice was still rather cheerful but there was a threatening overtone in it. "Your father was sentenced for a few years. When was it? About ten years ago? When you were seventeen?"
"Go to hell…" John's voice was hoarse and weak even to his own ears.
"Oh, so you can speak after all! I thought you suffered some serious brain damage…"
Instead of saying something else John just clenched his teeth.
"I bet you knew a lot of his business. Don't you want to speak about it?"
He directed the flashlight on his face again.
"Good, but if you want some water then you have to tell me a good story. Think it over quickly because that leg doesn't look good to me."
He flashed a beam of light on the injured leg and John felt nauseated again. It was definitely broken, his knee was fractured and under it the tibia was also broken and the sharp end of it was sticking out. It really didn't look good and it was bleeding profusely.
Jack stood up and as he went out, John could see that they were in a cellar. Stairs led up at least fifteen grades and when Jack arrived on top he tossed in a door with a loud bang.