Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with "Without a Trace". I make no money from this!
A/N: Okay, I know the last chapter was a tad stale and generally pretty horrible – the only parts I liked were the ones that SpyMaster re-wrote for me! I managed to churn this out at the weekend too, so I hope it makes up for it a little:( C.O.
Chapter Twelve
Thursday 27th January. 8.44am
Office of the New York Branch of the FBI, Manhattan
Still wearing her long black overcoat, Samantha made a beeline for the coffee pot. Although it hadn't been particularly late when she'd left the office the previous evening, for whatever reason once home, sleep had been difficult to find. She'd tried telling herself the reason for this was simply that recently she had become unaccustomed to sleeping alone. However, a little voice in the back of her mind seemed to have different ideas. As she gratefully poured a mug full of the dark liquid, she couldn't help but steal a quick glance in the direction of Jack's office. Somewhat apprehensively, she noted that he was already sitting behind his desk. From this distance it was impossible to tell whether he had in fact been home. Knowing that Viv was already en route to the Walker's residence, and it would be just the two of them in the office all morning, she took a deep breath and headed in the familiar direction.
As she hovered in the doorway, she was relieved to see that Jack was attired in a fresh shirt and a neatly pressed suit – a sign that he had not spent the night. He too looked a little tired, but the focus and intensity which had been lacking twelve hours earlier, had clearly returned. She watched him still scouring the case notes, quietly fighting the surprising wave of affection that washed over her.
Feeling her presence close-by, he raised his head.
"Hey," he offered softly.
"Hey," she returned the greeting. "Anything new?"
"Not yet," he sighed. "If we don't come up with something today, I'm not sure how long I can justify keeping this open. I don't know, maybe he did just leave."
"Jack." Sam felt the need to say something. She just wasn't too sure what. Although his instincts were usually pretty good, she got the distinct feeling that parts of this case were striking a hidden chord with him. She would never pretend to understand the emotional complexities of Jack's marriage, and the aftermath of its inevitable self-destruction. She did, however, understand him. She knew it; and she knew that he knew it. He may never talk about it with her directly, but the guilt and helplessness he felt over the loss of his family were laid bare in his eyes. He was desperate to believe that he could somehow set things right. And if reuniting Adam Walker with his wife and son was the way to do that, she didn't want to be the one to prove him otherwise.
Jack looked up expectantly at the sound of his name on her lips. She looked unusually unsure of herself and he couldn't help but feel responsible. Why couldn't he have just kept his mouth shut? So, he found out she had someone new in her life; that she'd moved on. The news wasn't exactly shocking. He'd acted like a lovesick, jealous ex-boyfriend. All right, so he wasn't about to go up and shake Martin's hand, that wasn't exactly his style. But in the harsh light of day those chaste evasive moments that the two of them had become accustomed to sharing, only served to add a new air of ambiguity to their already complicated past.
Samantha opened her mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the internal telecom on Jack's desk. As he picked up the receiver, he lifted a finger indicating that she should stay. Lowering herself on to the chair opposite she complied. She sipped her coffee as Jack mumbled curtly into the phone.
"Okay… Sure… Send her up."
As he hung up, Sam eyed him curiously.
"Who was that?"
"The front desk," he answered evenly. "Melissa Thomas is downstairs. She says she wants to talk to us about something."
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As the elevator doors slid open to reveal Adam Walker's secretary, both agents found themselves startled by the sight of the young woman. Her red hair, although still pinned back, stuck out at odd angles and she seemed completely drained of energy. As she neared the pair she attempted a small smile, but her bottom lip quivered and she instead drew in a deep breath.
Unsure, having effectively ruled out any work related cause behind her bosses' disappearance, exactly what new information she was here to impart, they escorted her to the nearest conference room. Once inside, Melissa seemed to re-group and she looked squarely at the agents before her.
"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here."
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9.02am
"So you actually heard Adam making the call?" Jack enquired briskly.
"Yes," Melissa stated firmly, repeating her story. "I was on my way into work when I recognised Adam's voice. I didn't mean to overhear, but I couldn't help catch bits of it. I was walking right by."
"And this was definitely from a payphone, not his cell?" Sam confirmed.
Melissa nodded. "Yes, on Monday morning sometime before nine, like I said."
"Which payphone?" Samantha was once again scribbling in her note book.
"The one outside the office," the secretary stated. "It's the only one in about three blocks that ever seems to be working. There's always someone using it."
"And you didn't think to tell us this piece of information yesterday?" Jack's tone was harsher than he had intended.
Melissa paused, fumbling for an explanation. When she looked back up, she seemed to be addressing herself to Samantha.
Noticing this shift, Sam smiled comfortingly. "It's okay Melissa, you're not in trouble, and we'll do our best to keep anything you tell us confidential."
Mollified by the vague reassurance, Melissa took another deep breath.
"It's just… When I first realised it was Adam, I heard him saying something about an appointment. He sounded really odd, almost desperate, like he was begging. I'd never heard him sound that way before, it scared me."
"So, you don't know who he was talking to?" Sam was still regarding her with some empathy.
"No. At first I thought it must be a work thing, you know? Something to do with the lawsuit that he didn't want the Partners to find out about." She guiltily relocated her gaze to Jack. "I guess that's why I didn't tell you yesterday. I figured if his going missing had anything to do with the firm you'd find out and…"
"You wouldn't get Adam into any more trouble." Jack completed her sentence.
Melissa nodded. "But then I kept thinking about it – all night actually." This time she managed a tired smile. "I just couldn't get it out of my head. And I started to think, maybe it wasn't work, maybe it was something else."
"Like what?" He was becoming increasingly insistent. Not wanting to undermine Jack, but fearing the young woman would withdraw without further comment, Samantha stepped in once more.
"Well, do you think he could be in debt, or maybe someone's attempting to extort him?"
The secretary shook her head. "No. Adam would never get mixed up in anything like that."
Having confirmed her suspicion that the young woman's feelings for her boss stretched beyond a professional capacity, Sam was torn between compassion, scepticism and frustration.
"But you obviously thought that something was wrong?"
"I really don't know." Melissa shrugged helplessly. "I just thought I should tell you."
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10.05am
Now seated at the conference table in the bullpen, the two agents faced the laborious task of searching the call log from the payphone Melissa had mentioned. They'd narrowed their search down to a thirty minute time slot, but as the secretary had said, the phone was often in use, and despite mobile technology, an inordinate amount of calls still seemed to have been made from it. The task was made no easier by having little idea who Adam may have called, which meant identifying the recipient of each individual call. Even then there was no guarantee that the connection to their missing person would be obvious.
Remembering how much he hated this kind of grunt work, Jack felt the need for a distraction.
"Did you buy any of that?" he asked pointedly.
Looking up from the thick pile of records spread in front of her, Sam raised an eyebrow. "If she's lying to anyone, I think it's only to herself."
From behind his equally large mass of papers, he regarded her curiously. Samantha's insights, although often entirely accurate, always had the ability to both amuse and disturb him at the same time.
"I'm assuming you're going to elaborate on that point," he sniggered.
Sam shrugged. "Well, if you need it spelling out."
Grateful that the earlier tension between them had miraculously eased, Jack attempted a glare in her direction. However, it came across more as a smirk and Sam smiled in spite of herself.
"She's got Adam up on this pedestal, right?" She caught Jack's eye. "He's the perfect boss, the perfect husband, the perfect father." She shrugged again. "If she suspects that he's cheating on his wife, and it's not with her, how do you think it's gonna make her feel?"
Noting Jack's badly disguised discomfort, Sam's expression softened. Her tone was teasing, but gentle.
"Are you going to clam up on me every time this subject comes up? 'Cause in our line of work, that might be a problem." Jack watched her guiltily. "We can't change what happened," she delicately reminded him.
At that comment, a new emotion crossed his face – regret? Was that it? Deciding that either implication of that feeling would be awkward at best, painful at worst, she quickly moved on.
"Let's just keep looking, all right?"
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10.29am
"I think I may have found something."
Jack looked up swiftly at Samantha's declaration. "What've you got?"
"A Boston number." There was a note of triumph in her voice and it involuntarily raised his spirits. In a fluid movement, Sam reached out to the phone next to her, punching in the number from the sheet.
He gave her a questioning look. "You know we do have more official ways of obtaining that information."
Sam simply held up a hand to silence him as she switched the device to speaker phone. The two agents listened to the recorded message that began playing.
"Hello, you've reached the office of Dr. Ellen Crawforth. I'm sorry we can't take your call. Office hours are…"
"Good morning," sounded a harried voice interrupting the machine. "Dr. Crawforth's office. Can I help you?"
Sam glanced briefly at Jack before continuing. He nodded his approval.
"Hi. My name's Samantha Spade. I'm a Special Agent with the New York branch of the F.B.I. I'm trying to trace a call which you received on Monday morning."
Her introduction was met with silence. After several seconds a response was still not forthcoming and Sam tried again.
"Okay, I know this may be unexpected, but could you tell me if you received a call from a Mr. Adam Walker on Monday morning. It would've been a little before nine am."
Through the speaker, the agents could hear the distinctive sound of the rustling pages of an appointment book. This was followed by yet another silence.
Finally a nasal voice spoke up. "Look, I don't want to get into any trouble, but Dr. Crawforth isn't here right now, and I'm not sure if I can disclose that information over the telephone, to anyone."
"That's fine." Samantha's tone was patient, but she threw a humorous look of irritation in Jack's direction.
Suppressing a smile, he mouthed to her. "At least somebody knows the law."
Ignoring him, she continued to push the receptionist. "I know you don't have any proof that I'm who I say I am. I'm not asking you to break any doctor-patient confidentiality. But it's really important if you can just tell us whether Adam Walker placed that call."
After an audible sigh, they could once again hear pages turning. They stopped and the voice re-appeared hesitantly.
"Okay, we did receive a call for an appointment from Mr. Walker on Monday." She unenthusiastically droned.
This was hard work. "Did you take the call?" Samantha forced her tone to remain friendly, despite the receptionist's unwillingness to reciprocate.
"Yes."
"And did he make an appointment?" It was like pulling teeth.
"Yes. For Tuesday morning," she added after a beat.
"Do you know if he attended the appointment?" Both Sam and Jack's attention was now rapt.
"I'm sorry." Her apathy was giving way to panic. "I really think you need to discuss this with Dr. Crawforth. She'll be back just after eleven."
Jack shrugged. The woman was just doing her job, no matter how frustrating it was for them.
"All right," Samantha instructed. "I'll tell you what. Two of my colleagues are going to be coming over to talk to you later this morning. And it'd really help if you'd have a think about it and tell them everything you can that will help them."
The woman kept her mouth shut, but they could sense she was nodding.
"Oh, one more thing," Sam added nonchalantly. "What kind of doctor is Ellen Crawforth?"
The woman seemed surprised at the obviousness of the question. "She's a psychiatrist," she responded before hurriedly hanging up the phone.
As she flicked off the speaker, Sam exchanged an intrigued glance with Jack.
As he reached over for the phone, their fingers brushed lightly.
Steadily maintaining the eye contact, he shrugged. "I'll call Danny," he said simply.
TBC
