Author's note: Thank you for the reviews, especially to GrantingTroyTurner who reviews every single chapter I upload and with that she gives me a lot of inspiration. That's why I write instead of studying, but never mind... It's much more enjoyable! So to your enjoyment, here's the next chapter!
Chapter 2.
How much time could have passed? How long was he knocked out? It could have been only hours, but days as well – he had no idea at all. Probably they were already looking for hem – if it was after Saturday, that is. When (if?) he didn't show up at Sam's, they surely started to search for him. But would they be able to find him? He can't wait for the rescue team, because it might not come at all, and even if they come, they might be late...
Unfortunately, he couldn't see much of his surrounding as the light was turned off. In one aspect it was better this way as his head still hurt and the light would only blind him and make him more dizzy. He was thinking about different ways to escape from here, but he quickly felt got sleepy. He didn't want to sleep in, but his eyes closed on their own will... How is it said: when you have a concussion it's not really advisable to fall asleep, or what?
He was woken up by Jack's sickeningly cheerful voice and the sudden brightness as he turned on the light.
"How are we today?"
John just threw at him a cross look but didn't answer.
The murderer had a bottle in one hand and a plastic mug in the other. Now he opened the bottle and poured some water in the mug. John couldn't hold back to swallow visibly. He was thirsty like hell, his throat and mouth was dry as if he were walking in a desert for days.
"Are you thirsty, maybe?" Jack asked and drank with relish. "You have to answer just one question: did you confess in the trial against your father?"
John watched the fluid with longing eyes. What was of more worth, that was the question he had to answer: having an opportunity to gain some of his strength back, and maybe being able to do something... or don't giving up and maintaining his pride. For most people it might be an easy decision, but not for John. For a long time he had nothing, but his pride and it was hard to simply drop old habits.
"Yes." He whispered after a long silence.
He whispered, not because he was afraid or something, but because he couldn't talk louder.
"It wasn't that hard, was it?" Jack stepped closer and gave him the mug, but not before he poured out half of its content on the stone-floor. It wasn't much, really, but John felt, it was the best drink he ever had.
"What was he sentenced for?" Jack asked after he'd finished drinking.
"Instrigation to homicide" he answered after a short hesitation. He guessed, Jack knew it anyway, and maybe this way he can win some time to find a way out.
"But he was released after a few month, wasn't it?"
"If you know everything why are you asking me?"
Maybe it wasn't the best idea to snap at a notorious killer but John couldn't hold back his tongue.
"Hey, why are you so nervous? Sons should be proud of their old men! Although fathers should be proud of their sons as well... Is your father proud of you, Johnny?"
John looked at the wall instead of Jack.
"You don't have to answer, I know he isn't! It's so sad... You know, I could even like you for it. In the past few weeks I realized that we are quite similar..."
"I'm not like you at all."
"Really? We were both mistreated by our parents and we are longing for being appreciation. And we just want to be loved. But unlike you, I realized that we can never achieve this."
John didn't want to listen to this whole bullshit but he could do nothing to close out this madman's voice.
"You have nobody, even your mother didn't care for you..."
"Don't talk about her!"
John would have jumped at him, had he been not chained.
"Why? Are you scared to admit that she died rather than taking the responsibility for you? How many times did you end up in hospital because of the beatings of your father? Did he do anything?"
John felt even colder than before and he found breathing hard. No, she was ill... O'Doyle made her ill...
"Don't you have anything to say?" asked Jack with a smile. "I guessed so."
John suddenly glimpsed something, and for a moment he forgot to listen to the murderer's triads. There was a small key on Jack's belt and it looked absolutely like a possible key to his handcuffs...
"I've spent a few weeks in Boston recently."
The young man tensed and looked back at Jack's face, who was even more gleeful now. He couldn't go this far... But he obviously did.
"I visited a small pub there... What's its name again? Ah, yes! Red Rose... It's not very original but it's a nice place, anyway. I recognized your father immediately, because you can't even gainsaid that you are close relatives. And you know what? I talked to him, he's not that bad... he got quite friendly when I mentioned what I plan for you!"
It took a lot to behave deliberate but he had to, if he wanted to survive. Talking about his father was the best method to make him irritated and lose his guts but tried to stay calm, nevertheless. After a short silence he answered in a quiet voice.
"You might be right. I want acknowledgment and love, but who doesn't? However in one thing you are very wrong: we are not alike! I'm useful, I'm a good agent, at least in my job I'm appreciated, but what about you?"
Jack stepped closer and examined him with much less happiness on his face.
"You are just a sick bastard...Your desperately in love with Sam but she hates and despises you! You know what? You are not even interesting to her as a criminal! She had some much bigger challenges in her job..."
Jack slapped him. Hard. His head splayed backwards and hit the wall, but he still continued.
"You want to be special, but you aren't! you aren't even cruel enough! Do you think you can cause more pain than my father did?"
Actually he could, but John would have never admitted it. Jack kicked and hit him a few times and then kneeled down and leant so close to him that John could feel his breath on his face. John smiled, however there was nothing to smile about... except the small key he had in his left hand now, and quickly hid in his back-pocket.
Jack with a sudden movement pressed on his broken knee and John screamed out. In the next who-knows-how-much-time only pain existed, until at last he blacked out.
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"Didn't you tell John would be here by six?"
Sam heard Bailey's voice from the living-room. She was not still standing in front of her closet with a typical woman-problem. Should she chose the red dress or the black one?
"What did you said?" she cried back.
Bailey appeared in the door with and looked her over with a rather wistful smile.
"It's ten past six. John's late."
"He's probably stuck in a traffic jam. It's Saturday evening after all."
"Yeah, but the performance won't start later, just for us. By the way, don't you want to put on something?"
"I'm almost ready." And she pulled out the black dress.
In a few moments they were ready to go, only waited for John to arrive in the living-room, joined by Chloe who is obviously impatient.
"When's John coming?" she asked for the third time.
"You should maybe call him" suggested Sam, and Bailey took his cell-phone from his pocket. He held it to his ear for a whole moment and then grimaced.
"He doesn't answer it."
"Maybe he doesn't want to talk while he's driving" guessed Sam.
After ten minutes they tried again, and then two more times. Sam saw that Bailey's expression started to turn worried. Sam knew that she wore the same expression on hers. Chloe looked between the two of them with wide eyes.
"I'll call in whether there was an accident, or something" announced Bailey at seven.
"Do you think, that something happened to John?" asked Chloe quietly when Bailey went out.
"Don't know dear. I hope not, he might just have stopped to help somebody, as well. We mustn't fear the worst immediately..."
But this was hard to explain to Chloe who already lost her father without any real reason. Bailey came back shaking his head agitatedly.
"There were no accidents in the area, and nothing else. I'll go over to him" he said then.
"I'll go with you" Sam told and looked at Chloe. "Put on a jumper and your shoes."
Half an hour later they were at John's place. There they found nothing extraordinary, except that John wasn't there, either. Neither was his car in the garage. Bailey asked the neighbours but they haven't seen him since Wednesday so they weren't much help.
"I'll go in and report him as missing" said Bailey when he came back. He was speaking quietly so that Chloe couldn't hear them. "Go home, I'll call if I can find out something."
"It's Jack." Sam whispered and Bailey's heart ached as he heard the desperation in her voice.
"We can't be sure." He didn't sound to convincing even to his own ears.
"I don't want to lose him..." Sam told with glistening eyes.
"Neither do I. We will find him, Sam. We have to..."
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