Continued from chapter 2

21 HOURS MISSING

Jack Malone sat quietly in his office and the faint humming that always seemed to be in the building, no matter the hour, was the only sound he could detect. If he raised his head, he knew he would be able to see different-sized shapes move on the other side of his half-closed blinds, proving that the offices weren´t abandoned despite the silence. However, he kept his gaze firmly down. He was reading the papers in the folder marked Deborah Harrison, or that was what he was trying to do anyway. He had read the first lines four times now and still he wasn´t capable of taking in the information. He was tired and his stomach was twisting painfully from too much coffee and no proper food. Or maybe it was from no food at all; he didn´t quite remember if he had had breakfast. He knew he´d skipped lunch.

In any case, he wasn´t making much progress and he sighed, subconsciously reaching for the mug of coffee bearing the FBI logo, only to stop himself as his fingers brushed against it. Despite himself, he allowed himself a small resigned smile. Trust him to try and fix his problem with the very thing that was causing it. Not that he should be surprised, as that seemed to be his modus operandi lately.

If only he had never noticed.

No, that wasn´t it. He had begun to notice some time ago. What he really wished for was to never have had it confirmed. In his mind Samantha could somehow still be his; could somehow still be a part of him that he cherished even when kept deeply hidden from any prying eyes. If he didn´t have to know and didn´t have to see, she was still his. He knew it didn´t make sense, but nothing about his feelings for Samantha had ever made much sense.

Only the times he had been with her, the times they had been alone together, sharing a meal, a smile or a bed, had things ever made sense. And it had never seized to amaze him, the clarity with which he could suddenly view the world when he was with her. It was the moment he had to walk away, close a door behind him and proceed back into reality that everything would unravel again. Become messy and distorted.

He looked up a second before he heard her laugh, getting out of the elevator with Martin by her side. He said something and she laughed again, giving his shoulder a friendly slap. Jack winced as if he had been the recipient. Or maybe because he wasn´t.

His eyes followed them as they walked down the corridor, only looking down as they came close enough to see him in his office. For some reason he desperately didn´t want her to look his way. Any other time his eyes would have sought out hers, out of habit and out of need, but not now. He couldn´t look at her with Martin in so close proximity to her. Maybe in time he would be able to and think nothing of it, but not now.

This morning as he had tried to reach her, first on her cell and then at home, a hope he hadn´t even fully realized he carried with him had been shattered. The hope that she would always be there for him, as selfish as he knew it was. That despite how many times he walked away or closed a door, he would be – if not always welcomed – allowed back in. It had been that way for so long that he had grown used to it and incapable of imagining their relationship any other way.

It had taken seventeen unanswered rings in the dead of night to finally drive the message home he had so carefully avoided facing. She wasn´t waiting any more. She had done what he had not been able to despite all it had cost him; she had walked away and he had no reason to think she would ever be back.

To his relief, he more sensed than heard them walk straight past his office, their footsteps never slowing. And yet, that insignificant detail cut deeper than her laugh or the gentle affection he had seen on her face as she looked at Martin. She was leaving him behind. No, she already had.

"Jack? We´re ready for-"

"Shit!" He swore as the sudden sound of Vivian´s voice made him jump, knocking over his now cold coffee with his elbow, spilling all over the desk. "Oh, for crying out!"

"Sorry," Vivian spoke apologetically from where she was standing in the half-open door to his office. "I didn´t mean to startle you. I knocked."

"Yeah well, I didn´t hear you," Jack replied brusquely as he frantically tried to save the papers and folders on his desk.

"You all right?"

He stilled his motions and looked up, seeing only gentle concern on Vivian´s face. Feeling a bit silly, he calmed down, offering his own apology in the tired smile that followed.

"Just one of those days, you know."

Vivian nodded, returning his smile vaguely before turning away, "I´ll tell the others you´re on the way."

-

"Well, the good news is," Martin began as he finished writing on the white board, "we have a near perfect timeline for her disappearance. She left her building at 3:23 pm and arrived at the grocery store twenty minutes later. She was only there for a bit of light shopping and left again at 3:57 according to their security cameras. She was alone and from what I could tell, no one was following her or appearing to pay any special attention to her."

"What´s the bad news?" Danny inquired.

Martin turned to him, "The bad news is that some time during her only twenty minute long walk back, in full daylight and on a crowded street, she goes missing. No other cameras have caught her walking by and no store owners, aside the man from the grocery, remember seeing her."

Turning to look at Jack, who was leaning against a desk instead of sitting at the conference table, Martin continued, "I showed her picture around while I was there and some thought they might have seen her at some point, but weren´t really sure. And no one remembered witnessing anything suspicious."

"No commotion? Fighting? Cars suddenly speeding away?"

"Well," Martin looked almost apologetically as he trailed off. "It is New York…"

"Yeah, you´re right," Jack rubbed his face, sighing wearily. "A bomb could go off. All right, Vivian and Danny?"

"The daughter doesn´t appear to have a motive," Vivian began, glancing at the papers before her. "She´s genuinely concerned. We have yet to speak to her son, but the ex-husband is on his way. According to Caroline White, he has a cordial relationship with her mother and he continued to visit her even after the divorce."

"Whaddya know," Sam smiled slightly. "A son-in-law that willingly chooses to spend time with his mother-in-law after he doesn´t have to any more. That´s new."

"An obvious suspect," Danny grinned at her from across the table. "I put him on top of the list."

"Clearly showing signs of diminished capacity," Martin added with a grin of his own, swirling the black marker lazily between his fingers. "We should proceed with utmost caution."

"All right, all right," Jack cleared his throat and they all obligingly looked his way. "Can we get back to business now?"

Vivian continued immediately, not missing a beat, "Caroline White says her mother´s rather impressive fortune comes from her late father, who was a very successful businessman."

"What kind of business," Samantha asked as she uncapped her pen, preparing to make a note.

"Well, among other things, selling headstones for pets."

"That makes money?" Martin asked incredulously, shaking his head. "Clearly, I´ve missed my calling."

"Summing up," Vivian spoke, not letting herself be distracted. "No enemies that the daughter knows of, no change in her mother´s state of mind or behaviour in the last few months." She looked up, meeting Jack´s eyes, "No reason to leave."

He nodded, "No, I think it´s safe to say that she didn´t go anywhere voluntarily. Something happened to her on her way home." He was silent for a moment, then continued, "Sam and I questioned her neighbours, but no one really knows her. They all say she´s nice and friendly, but that she prefers her own company and doesn´t appear to have any friends. The only people they remember visiting her are her daughter, her grandson, her former son-in-law and the janitor, a James Crowther. He does the occasional odd job for her."

"Yes," Samantha took over, looking from Danny to Vivian to Martin and back again. "James Crowther, 43, has worked as a janitor slash handyman in the building for fifteen years. He´s the quiet sort, polite, keeps to himself. Perhaps that´s what he and Deborah White have in common."

"He also has a record," Jack spoke up, consulting his notes. "Did time for minor assault back when he was 19; a few charges of grand theft auto in his twenties and a conviction for DUI, but he has kept his path clean since."

"Or he hasn´t been caught," Martin interjected mildly.

"Or he hasn´t been caught," Jack acknowledged readily, flipping his notepad shut. "That´s what we´re going to find out. His alibi is pretty bad as it is, says he spent the entire yesterday afternoon in his office doing paperwork. No one can vouch for him, though."

He reached behind him and took a folder from the desk, opened it and took out a portrait-sized photo, tossing it onto the conference table. "This it what he looks like now."

Danny and Vivian studied the picture carefully as Martin stepped closer, leaning over them from behind, "Hmm… I don´t recall if I saw him on any of the security tapes, but then, I wasn´t looking for him."

"He´s the janitor," Danny spoke, "wouldn´t he know a way to get out of the building without being caught on tape?"

"He says there isn´t one, but we´ll find out soon enough." Jack checked his watch, "Okay, when the ex-husband arrives, Danny and Vivian, you´re onto him. Erick White should be here with his mother soon. Martin… Martin, you and Samantha question him, if possible without his mother hanging on his every word. I have to make some calls, so if anyone needs me, I´ll be in the office."

-

Jack barely made it into his office to collapse into his chair before the door opened again and Samantha was there with him. He glanced up briefly before gathering a bunch of coffee soaked post-it notes from his desk, now indecipherable, and throwing them neatly into the bin. "Yes?"

"Have you eaten anything all day?"

Jack didn´t have to look up to know that Sam had crossed her arms, tilted her head and was gazing at him disapprovingly. However, he did it anyway, "I haven´t really had time."

"Right." Her tone was noncommittal, but the look on her face wasn´t.

He tried again, "I just haven´t been feeling very hungry." When that didn´t appear to appease her, he finally offered, feeling a little amused, "I´ll get something sent up very soon. Scout´s honour."

Sam couldn´t help but smile, "You were a boy scout?"

"No," Jack gave her a half smile in return, "but that´s not the point."

As had happened so many times before, what always seemed to happen when they were alone, they fell silent, their gazes locked as the atmosphere grew more and more loaded. He knew he should stop, stop before the situation escalated into something either could control, but he didn´t. Instead his dark eyes challenged her to be the first to look away.

"Jack…" Sam spoke softly at length, wanting to say so much with that single word. Her eyes were pleading, but if someone had asked what for, she wouldn´t have been able to say.

"Jack…" she repeated, almost helplessly, when he didn´t react and this time it was more like a breath than an actual word. He closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to see the pain in hers.

"This is just…" was all he managed to get out, feeling choked, as if suddenly there was no air left in his office. He looked to her for help, but could tell she wasn´t capable of offering him any. Her arms wrapped tightly around her, she looked very young and very vulnerable and Jack felt what he always did. Disgust at himself for being the cause of it and a burning need to go to her, hold her and whisper that everything would be all right.

Letting conventions fly to the wind, he rose and stepped quickly around his desk. Standing just close enough to let an indecisive hand brush against her side, he said quietly, "I´m sorry. I´m sorry… for everything…"

She wouldn´t look at him, but nodded, speaking just as low, "Me too."

"We´re kinda hopeless, pathetic even, aren´t we?" he tried, forcing his tone to be light.

Sam nodded again and even though her face was turned away, Jack thought he detected the faintest hint of a smile. But it was tinged with that quiet sadness he knew only too well and it broke his heart. Just like it had all the times before.

Maybe it always would.

Making a decision, he subconsciously straightened up, letting the hand that had barely touched her, fall down to his side. "Sam, look at me."

She did, reluctantly, and for a second he had expected tears, but there were none to see. Just calm acceptance, or maybe resignation, he wasn´t sure.

"It´s not," he began, but had to clear his throat, surprised by the hoarse sound of his voice. "It´s not going to be a problem. With you and Martin, I mean," he added, seeing the question in her eyes. "And this…" he faltered, suddenly lost for words. "This," he raised his hand again, gesturing hesitantly between them, taking care not to accidentally touch her. "This will pass, too."

For the second time in the span of mere minutes, Jack felt his heart break, but he tried to push the pain aside. This wasn´t about him, it was about Samantha and what she needed. But intertwined with his pain, he could clearly feel a strange kind of bitter sweet joy. She hadn´t quite closed the door on him.

The guilt that instantly followed that realization was enough for him to snap out of it and he took an abrupt step back, realizing he had been about to kiss her. In the middle of his office, in the middle of the day and with people milling about outside. With Martin outside.

Bewilderment showed on Sam´s face for a moment and he knew she was aware of what he had almost done. Despite his best intentions, he found himself trying to search her face to see if she would have reciprocated, but something slammed shut in her eyes and her expression became unreadable.

"I should get to work," her voice was neutral, but sounded incredibly loud after all their hushed words.

"Yes." Jack nodded after only a slight pause. He retreated back around the desk and to his chair. "I need to get started with those calls as well."

The only answer he received was the sound of a door opening followed by her light footsteps as she speedily walked away.

Deliberately keeping his gaze down, he stared at the numbers on his notepad until they began to blur. Only when he could hear her no longer and the only remaining sign of her was the faint whiff of her perfume in his office, did he dare look back up.

Thirty minutes and three phone calls later, he was interrupted by a woman from reception, handing him a bag and a note that read: 'It´s all been paid for, now eat.' He turned the note over, smiling to himself reading her last words: 'I mean it! Eat! –S.'

Taking out a container of Chinese and a root beer, he began to do just that.

TBC…