Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with "Without a Trace". I make no money from this!

A/N: Apologies for the longer than usual posting delay! For those of you who don't frequent Maple Street, and/or didn't see my post, I'm on jury duty at the moment and it's seriously eating into my time! I'm doing my best to keep up with this, so please be patient and I'll hopefully get more to you soon. Many, many, many thanks to SpyMaster for some much needed input into this chapter – if not for her help it would still be languishing in pieces on my hard drive! C.O. ;)

Chapter Eleven

Thursday 27th January. 9.13am (62 hours missing)

Boston's North End

Danny and Martin waited impatiently in front of the bright blue door of Jennifer Antidormi's well-kept red brick three storey townhouse. Although it was both early and exceedingly cold, a gathering of older residents, talking at each other in a mixture of rapid Italian and accented English, littered the narrow street. Battered chairs adorned the sidewalk outside many of the properties, and it was easy to imagine a hot summer's day where the street would be lined with residents filling the empty seats with idle chatter as they watched the world pass by.

"Wanna grab a pizza after we're done here?" Danny asked Martin, a sly grin on his face. Just because they had been exiled to a different state to spend a freezing morning chasing up a potentially futile lead, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy taking a dig at his stony-faced partner – even if the subject of eating habits was normally a little too easy for his liking.

"I'm not even going to respond to that," Martin replied, breaking out of his obvious funk for a moment and giving Danny a sarcastic glare. Danny just laughed.

Hoping to avoid another wisecrack from his colleague, and wishing that he was doing a better job of brightening his own mood, Martin started looking around at the nearby buildings. Adjacent to the corner property before which they now stood, was a trendy Italian eatery with a minimalist façade and a pricy menu displayed by its door. Across the street, however, was home to a more traditional restaurant proudly displaying the colours and accoutrements of its native land. Clearly the place Danny had been referring to with his 'pizza' remark. It was clear that despite the presence of new blood in this neighbourhood, the community roots were still strong. Martin, in his dark suit and tense posture, couldn't help but feel out of place, and from Danny's demeanour it was clear that he felt the same way.

When the door opened hesitantly, both agents instinctively raised their badges. The woman staring back at them was tall and striking. Her olive skin was off set by dark eyes and even darker hair tinted with auburn highlights. She was dressed in worn jeans which hugged her impressive figure, and a loose knit dark green sweater sporting a plummeting neckline. Both men took an involuntary moment as they assessed the sight in front of them. When Danny spoke, she watched him curiously.

"Jennifer Antidormi? I'm Agent Taylor and this is Agent Fitzgerald. We're with the Missing Persons unit of the FBI, New York Field Office. We'd like to come in and talk to you."

Checking their badges once more, the woman sighed before opening the door fully and ushering them inside.

"Well," she said in an educated East coast accent, "I have no idea why you need to talk with me, but be my guest."

Martin and Danny followed her down a well lit hallway, their footsteps echoing on the polished hardwood boards. The walls were painted a deep red which reflected the light from above onto the floor, creating a warm glow despite the exterior temperature. Hanging intermittently along the hall, in untreated wooden frames, were canvasses of varying sizes and shapes, displaying an unusual but impressive collection of what was probably fairly pricy modern art.

Martin's mind flashed to how much his father would have hated them and he found himself remembering back to when he'd been a student. His dorm walls had been covered with modern paintings ranging from the moderately good to the truly awful. Naturally, of course, the paintings had been hanging in between posters of whatever band or artist his father particularly hated at the time. That rebel stage had lasted just less than a year; serving only to strain further whatever brittle relationship he had with his father to begin with. Looking at the paintings, as he followed his partner down the corridor, Martin tried to identify the artist - hoping that the period of his life, which he was less than proud of, would serve some purpose. Unfortunately, he didn't recognise the work and, to his growing frustration, couldn't even liken it to an artist or movement.

At the end of the hallway was an open kitchen containing primarily a large pine table, on which lay a variety of objects and implements pertaining little to any form of cookery. The large window behind it was lined with overgrown plants and a large colourful bowl containing what looked to be dog food. In front of the window, in the lightest part of the room, stood a large easel on which hung a life-size charcoal image of a nude female figure. The charcoal sticks lay scattered across the ceramic floor beneath and some of it was smeared lightly up the wall behind. Set against the backdrop of splashes of deep colours and textured fabrics adorning the entire room, it felt as if someone had accidentally left their stove and sink in an art studio.

"I'm Jennifer," the woman stated simply as she pulled two chairs from under the buried table and indicated for the agents to sit. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Martin took the lead. Meeting Jennifer's dark eyes, his tone and expression were professional.

"Do you know an Adam Walker?"

At the mention of the name, Jennifer's manner changed, as her casual composure gave way to a measured panic.

"Oh, God," she gasped. "Has something happened to Adam?"

Danny immediately stepped in to calm Jennifer down. Martin hadn't exactly been a ray of sunshine since they had been given this assignment and his current icy interrogation mood clearly wasn't going to cut it this morning. He flashed the woman a warm smile and made firm eye contact, quickly reassuring her.

When Martin saw that Danny had set Jennifer back at ease, he continued, attempting to infuse a fraction more warmth into his tone.

"That's what we're trying to find out. Adam hasn't been seen since he was picked up on a security camera leaving his office on Monday evening."

After a beat, Danny picked up the story, he was still smiling but there was a distinct undercurrent of scepticism in his voice.

"We know he called you at around eight pm on Monday night, and that he'd purchased an air ticket from JFK to Logan, also for Monday night. His computer log shows that he has been in contact with you by email, regularly, for quite some time. We were thinking that he may have been headed here, or that you may have an idea of some place else he could be. As you can imagine, his wife and son are pretty worried."

Jennifer's eyes remained glued on the two men before her. Pushing her hair off her face, she took a calming breath. Her expression was unreadable.

Martin cut to the chase. "Look, Miss Antidormi…"

She stopped him civilly. "If we're going to do this, just call me Jenn, okay?"

"Okay," Martin continued, unperturbed, "Jenn. Mrs Walker, Adam's wife…"

"Laura," she again interjected.

This time, Martin ignored the interruption, catching a glimpse of his colleague out of the corner of his eye.

Danny shifted in his seat. Although not the one being interrupted, he was clearly starting to get irritated. He thought briefly about butting in before deciding against it. Martin appeared to have it under control, and the way he'd been acting since Sam had driven them to the airport the previous evening, it seemed best just to play along.

"Mrs Walker reported her husband missing on Monday night. Now, we normally wouldn't be called in on cases such as this, as there's no evidence, at the moment, that Adam has been forced to go anywhere he didn't want to go, or do anything he didn't want to do. But we've come all the way from New York, so if Adam's here, it's really none of our business why, just so long as no crime has been committed. Telling us the truth would probably be a very good idea right about now."

Jenn paused, taking in the information that had just been presented to her. Her face was torn between wry disbelief, and what appeared to be genuine concern. Her tone suggested a well practised level of frustration.

"I didn't speak to Adam on Monday night."

Scepticism seeped back into Martin's voice, and using facts, like the white collar guy he'd been trained to be, he refuted her account. "Unfortunately, Adam's phone records disagree with that statement."

The woman acted like she'd barely heard him.

"Wait a minute." She laughed harshly. "You think that Adam and I are having some sordid affair?"

Danny raised his eyebrows in Martin's direction, before moving his attention back to Jenn. Now it was his turn.

"Well, if you're not, it might help both you and Adam to tell us how the two of you are acquainted, and why he's been contacting you pretty much every day for the last two months."

Again seeming to ignore the agent's commentary, she instead regarded both of them accusingly.

"Have you mentioned any of this to Laura?"

Martin kept his voice even. "No. Should we have done?"

Once more, Jenn laughed. "Well, it might've saved you a field trip."

The agents waited, deciding it might be prudent to just see how this would play out. She soon complied.

"I thought the Feds were trained to be observant?" She encouraged them to take in their surroundings, her gaze lingering on a jumble of framed photographs scattered across the counter and the table at which they were sitting. "You may want to take another look around."

At this, Martin and Danny both took a second visual sweep of the room, their glances falling inevitably on the indicated display.

Centre stage amongst the memorabilia, smiling back at them was a large image of Adam, Laura and David Walker. The happy family was flanked on either side by two women, sporting equally joyous expressions. One, standing next to Laura, with her arm around her, was very obviously Jennifer. On the other side, next to Adam, was another striking woman, a head shorter than Jenn with lighter hair, but possibly of African descent – one cheerful extended family portrait.

Pretty much all the other photos, aside from a series of elementary school photos documenting David's education thus far, contained images of Jenn and this other woman. In several they were in a studio of some sort, and there was a framed newspaper clipping showing the pair of them smiling into the camera at the opening of a down town gallery.

The cogs clearly turning, both men looked back at the same time. As they did, they were met with a knowing, but genuine smile.

"As you can probably imagine, Adam and I were not, or ever have been, sleeping together."

Reassessing the situation, Martin was still thinking.

"That doesn't change the fact that Adam called you on Monday night. How do you explain that?"

Jenn paused, caught in her own thoughts.

"I told you, he never called. If he had, I'd tell you. I was home on Monday night. Abbey, my partner," she elaborated, "is on a retreat up North. She goes there a couple of times a year, it's an artist thing, I never ask for too many details. So I stayed home to grade some papers." Seeing their curious looks, she explained, "I'm a professor, English Lit, at our alma mata… Harvard," she added. "That's how I met Adam and Laura."

Realising that this could be a useful line of questioning, Martin made a mental note of the information. However, their initial query was still unanswered, and it was not something that either he or Danny were going to let slide.

"The phone call," he prompted once more. "Adam called your cell. He talked for over four minutes. He obviously got through to someone."

"Oh," Jenn's expression changed again. "Abbey. She has my cell, in case of an emergency. Hers died on her last week and there wasn't time to replace it before she went away. It just seemed easier for her to take mine, as I rarely remember to switch the damn thing on anyway. It's not like she'll even get service out there but she knew it'd make me feel better if she took it. I can be kind of stubborn that way."

For the first time, she shared a genuine smile aimed mostly at Danny. But her expression soon became earnest.

"If Abbey had spoken to Adam and had any reason to be concerned, there's no way she wouldn't have called me. She adores that whole family. She's known them almost as long as I have. Oh God, I knew we should keep that phone switched on more often, we just…"

She tailed off. Now even Martin eyed her compassionately. Despite her carefully constructed, self-possessed persona, and the sharp, confident energy she exuded, there was an underlying fragility in the obvious concern she held for those about whom she genuinely cared. Martin couldn't help but be reminded of someone else he knew. Temporarily pushing a flurry of unbidden and unwanted thoughts out his mind, he smiled awkwardly.

Misinterpreting his discomfort, Jenn sighed, before speaking wearily. "I know you can't just take my word on it, and you need to check me over, that's fine. This won't be the first time I've had strangers prying into my personal life." She wrapped her arms around her waist as she continued. "Just so long as you find Adam, I'll do everything I can to help." The tempo of her words was increasing with every breath as she was becoming visibly distressed. "If it helps I can show you the broken cell, or you can call my number, although I can't guarantee Abbey will answer…"

Danny worriedly attempted to halt the momentum. Trying to catch her eye, he nodded.

"We'll do that, thanks." Trying to regain control of the conversation, he found himself slowing down his own speech. "So, if Adam wasn't coming to Boston just to pay you a visit, do you have any idea how he came to be on a plane on Monday night, without even mentioning it to his wife?"

At that comment, oblivious to the question that had been posed, Jenn launched out of her seat.

"Oh, shit. I should call Laura."

Martin and Danny exchanged equally frustrated glances as their witness bolted from the room.

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"Well, it looks like we might've been off base about the affair." Danny shrugged with some humour.

Martin nodded slowly but didn't quite look convinced. After a moment, he thought aloud.

"Just because he's not sleeping with this woman, doesn't mean there isn't someone else in Boston who was worth paying a secret visit to. I mean, we know he was on that plane, the passenger log confirmed it. Why else would someone lie to their spouse and leave town?"

Danny could sense an even deeper underlying agitation growing in his colleague, but thought it best to refrain from comment. His co-worker's private lives were their own business. After all, he chose not to share too much of his personal life with them. He may be privy to a couple of snippets of information, and if certain subjects were broached, it was acceptable to conduct an amount of good natured teasing. However, he had little desire to get caught up in something that, he was fairly certain, could not end well for all parties. Keeping his tone neutral, he looked over at Martin.

"To be fair, he didn't exactly lie."

Martin's voice now carried a clear undertone. "Well, he didn't exactly tell the truth, either."

Yeah, this conversation was definitely not something that needed to happen at this particular moment. Danny shook his head wryly as he suddenly grasped the reason behind his unusual frustration with his boss the previous evening. Yesterday afternoon he'd been wondering what the hell was going on with Jack, but since the journey to JFK it had become fairly obvious that it wasn't just Jack that things were going on with. There were some things that he'd been casually ignoring for over three years, but for the first time, Danny realised, personal matters were beginning to affect the actions of the team. It wasn't so much a matter of blame, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that something, or someone had to give - before this whole thing turned into a damn soap opera. Finding a sudden desire to get through this current case as quickly as possible, he turned back to his colleague. Holding up his hands, he attempted to ease the tension that now seemed to be growing between the two of them.

"Well, we're here now. And, no matter what we assume might've happened, Jack wants us to find out what Adam Walker was doing in Boston on Monday night. We've thought the worst of people before," he looked up pointedly, "and been wrong. So, let's just do our job and get the hell back to New York." Grinning, he added, "And if the best way to do that is to find the guy having a weeks holiday reminiscing with former college buddies, then good for him. Let's wait and see what else we can get from his other old friend here, and take it from there, okay?"

Martin nodded compliantly, a little embarrassed that Danny had seen through his professional façade so easily. He knew, obviously, that Danny was aware of his new relationship with Samantha – a consequence of the first time they, or maybe he, had failed to exercise the discretion she had been so insistent on since that first morning he woke up in her bed. Although Danny had never initiated a conversation about what was in fact happening, and most probably never would, Martin was surprised at just how easily he had accepted the knowledge – like it was an everyday occurrence to find your co-workers enjoying a private moment at work. But then maybe, as far as Danny was concerned, it was.

When Martin had first confronted Samantha about his awareness of her relationship with Jack – even now, the mention of their names together caused a tightening in his chest – she had stated simply that she had no idea whether Danny knew. Although Martin had successfully lost his initial rookie status and earned, at least he hoped this were true, the respect and trust of the team, it was times like this when he really needed someone he could talk to. Danny was his friend; he had no doubt about that. However, he had begun to believe that maybe there would never be a good time to talk about this. Danny may or may not know what had occurred between Sam and Jack, in which case it would be difficult confiding in him anyway. There was just nobody else he could talk to. While he was quite skilled at keeping his own counsel, there were times, and this was one of them, when the pressure of it all just felt too much to bear alone. Sam may be used to hiding relationships, but he sure as hell wasn't. Although he realised, in part, the necessity of this, at least to begin with, the seeds of doubt which had been growing with a vengeance since yesterday, had been present in his mind for quite some time. In fact, he could put a specific time on it, the day that Jack Malone's name plate went back to the spot that they all knew it belonged.

Yet, until yesterday, they had been controllable. It had been months now, and nothing had been said between himself and Samantha that would suggest this man's renewed presence would have any effect on what occurred between the two of them. He'd been steadily ignoring it, but he was growing more certain by the day, that it was the things which weren't being said, that were causing his doubts. Despite his upbringing, or maybe, in part, because of it, Martin was surprisingly in-adept at disguising his emotions. And no matter how loyally Sam laughed at his jokes, and how conveniently they had slotted into each others lives, there were times when he felt that she wasn't quite there; that she wasn't quite real. He had speculated a few times about this feeling and why he felt it. Eventually, he'd come to the conclusion that Sam had some unfinished business with Jack. On good days, or perhaps when the two of them were alone, this insight favoured the optimistic voice in his head – telling him that one day this would no longer be the case. However, at times like this, which seemed to be occurring with increasing regularity, he tried desperately, but often unsuccessfully not to view it in a slightly different light. She'd said it herself – feelings faded, not died, like deep down he knew they should. No matter what she said about there being room for new ones, he got the distinct foreboding that this wasn't quite so simple. While there were still remnants of feelings left, nobody could move on, and this didn't do anybody any good.

The rush of feelings he'd encountered yesterday, the amount of futility he'd felt, was not something he could easily verbalize. He'd felt frustrated at work before, but always over cases, and professional clashes. This, he supposed, was why co-workers should remain merely that. However, when he allowed himself to dwell on it, it was perversely, the lack of infringement that his personal life imposed on his work, that was the cause of his uncertainty. If an outsider were to notice any sexual tension in their workplace, he was growing steadily more certain that it would be in no way related to him.

His mind drifted back to the Christmas party just over a month ago and his conversation with Samantha. It was fairly easy to recall. For all the time that the two of them had spent together of late, he suddenly realised, this was maybe the only real conversation that had taken place about what was happening between them. And it was certainly the only one that had been initiated by Sam. Aside from the logistical implications their relationship involved, there seemed to be an ingrained, and by no means unintentional, embargo on all matters relating to the direction in which any of this might be headed. He'd thus far purposefully avoided any mention of what might happen should they actually tell people they were together, whatever that meant. But he had a sneaking suspicion that this would become yet another subject not to talk about, and the darker side of his subconscious was in little doubt of why.

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When Jennifer Antidormi returned to the kitchen, her earlier composure had returned. The only signal of distress was a telltale streak of mascara in the corner of her right eye. Both agents instinctively believed that the woman had no definitive information on Adam Walker's current whereabouts. But seeing as they were here, there was no harm in gathering a little more pertinent background information on their missing person. It wasn't as if they had anything else to go on.

Danny, once again, offered her a reassuring smile before launching onto what he hoped would be a less stressful subject.

"So, you've known the Walkers since college?" It was a perfunctory question, but seeing as Martin seemed incapable of relaxing today, someone had to make the small talk. He pointed to the photographs. "It seems you guys spend a lot of time together."

His easy manner seemed to be taking effect and Jennifer visibly relaxed again.

"Yeah, when we get the chance that is." She smiled. "What with my teaching and Abbey's commitment to her work, we don't get a lot of time to make it out to New York. And, of course, what with both of their careers, and juggling any free time they have to spend with David, we've got pretty used to email and the occasional weekend here and there – the usual story, you know?"

Danny nodded. "And you hadn't noticed anything off about Adam's behaviour the last time you heard from him? Was he worried about anything? His job? Maybe he and Laura were having problems?"

Jennifer took a moment to consider, but shook her head.

"No. Nothing. He never really talks about work. It's just something that pays the bills. Although, now you mention it, he did say something about a new case he was involved in. But, he seemed happy about it, like he was doing something that mattered to him. He's seemed pretty exhausted the last few months, which isn't like Adam at all, so I figured he must be working pretty hard at something."

Danny nodded again – so Adam had been talking about the lawsuit.

This time Martin addressed a question in her direction.

"And there was no indication that their marriage was under any particular stress?"

Jennifer, again, looked mildly frustrated by this line of questioning, but her response was patient.

"I know you can never really tell what's going on in someone else's relationship." She paused. "Hell, it's tough enough sometimes just trying to figure out what's going on in your own." Not for the first time, she felt the curious stare of her interrogator upon her. "But, as far as I could tell, they were really happy. I know you've talked to Laura about this already," she threw in.

Martin held her gaze. "Yes, we have. It's just useful for us to hear it from another perspective."

"Okay," Jenn shrugged, "I'm not trying to be difficult. It's just that you're in here talking to me, when I think you'd be better off out there actually looking for him."

"We understand that," Danny interjected. "But in order for us to do that, we need to know as much as we can about Adam's life – and that's something you can help us with."

"Fine. But I don't know how much use any of this will be." She sighed. "They're just a normal family. They get busy and stressed, like we all do – and God knows, how they both manage to be such great parents at the same time. I know I'm still not ready for that." She smiled again. "Yeah, they fight sometimes, but never anything major. And if anything did happen between them, I know at least one of them would come to me about it sooner or later; they always have."

Martin looked perplexed. "So, there've been no family problems?"

"If you're still asking me whether Adam's screwing someone in Boston, I think we covered that earlier." Jenn's tone again held more than a shade of annoyance. "And David's a good kid. He can act out sometimes, and I'm no expert, but I figure that's what kids do. Adam can be a bit overprotective, but it's only natural. His own father had some… problems, and wasn't around much when he was growing up, so he just wants to be there for his own son. I mean, we all have our issues, don't we? But Adam was over all that in college. He wouldn't just run off. I know him. He wouldn't be able to live with himself."

Giving Jennifer another moment to gather her thoughts, Martin flicked back to the notes from his interview with Laura. He quickly found what he was looking for.

"So, Adam's mother died when he was in college, and they moved to New York to be near Laura's parents."

"Laura's mom," the woman corrected. "Laura's dad died a couple of years earlier, and her mom didn't handle it too well. She passed away about five years ago, but I don't think she ever really got over it. I don't know all the details but I think she got pretty depressed for a while. I remember Laura saying that she was barely leaving the house. They were both really worried, and seeing as Adam didn't have any family left in Boston, it just seemed like the only thing they could do. Adam was just as upset as Laura. It really got to him. He was willing to give up everything else in his life for her." She shook her head, smiling softly at the recollection, before meeting Martin's eyes. "I guess that's when we all realised it was true love."

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Boston's North End

10.36am

After establishing that Jennifer Antidormi really had no more information for them, the agents were at a stand still. It was true that Adam Walker had arrived in Boston, but there was no saying that he was even still there. There was still no hard evidence of anything untoward and, if no new leads came in soon, they were basically out of options.

Danny was leaning idly against the wall of the nearby pizzeria when his cell phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he was almost grateful that his colleague was inside and out of earshot.

"Hey, Jack. What's up? Did you get my message…… Yeah…… No, she's definitely not our mistress…… Yeah, we left our contact details in case Adam gets in touch, or she thinks of something else but……"

The agent's expression suddenly became more curious, as his update was interrupted. He listened intently, occasionally nodding into the phone. As his boss was talking he grabbed the pen and paper out of his coat, jotting down an address.

"Well, that's weird." He shrugged as he wrote.

He listened again before stuffing the notebook back in his pocket.

"Yeah, sure. We'll get right on it."

Ending the call, he headed toward the restaurant in search of Martin.

TBC