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

A/N: Sorry that this is on the short side (and took such a long time for me to post). For those who have stuck with this, you may be relieved to know that the end is very much in sight - I'm just finding it a little harder than I anticipated to actually get there. Thank you so much to all those who have continued to review – it really does mean a lot to me still. And thanks once again to Newlands for the gentle nudging, to the well-placed kicks, to the… flattery and bribery (?), which go above and beyond the duties of a beta. :) There will be more soon, promise…

Chapter Sixteen

The "24 Hour Motel", Boston's Southside.

2.41pm

"If Adam Walker did leave anything here, that manager sure did a hell of a job in clearing up."

Martin shrugged in resignation as he shut the door to the empty room behind him. With his partner leading the way, the two agents were now back in the dank corridor of the unimaginatively named motel's main core. Having been left alone to conduct their 'search' as their host slunk gratefully back to his command post, it had been clear from the outset that there was little to be learned from their missing person's last known temporary pit-stop. Although suspect in the cleanliness stakes - at least if the rather pungent odour emanating from the drapes and blankets was anything to go by – containing only a rickety steel-framed bed and cracked porcelain basin, the room was tidy albeit completely bare.

Danny raised his eyebrows comically, if nothing else, just grateful to be able to insert some much needed repartee back into their day.

"Well, seeing as he's not exactly Mr. Personal Hygiene, I can't imagine he'd spend too much time cleaning up in here even if something did go down. My guess is there was never gonna be anything here for us to find."

"Great."

Danny once again eyed his colleague and took a measured breath before continuing. Just because there would clearly be no rewards for levity today did not mean that he wouldn't keep trying.

"True. But at least Jack seemed to be onto something, even if he wasn't in the mood to share. And we still have the rest of this place to have a look around. I noticed some trashcans outside that are just begging for us to go through 'em and I personally can't wait."

Martin's opportunity to respond was interrupted as the door opposite them creaked open. Both agents took a step back as a cautious female face framed by long and impossibly wiry dirty-blonde hair peered through the crack. Before the woman had the opportunity to change her mind and disappear behind the relative safety of the flimsy rotting wood, Danny pulled out his badge and held it swiftly to the gap.

"Hi! FBI. Can we talk to you for a minute?"

There was a distinct hesitation, but a couple of seconds later, the door opened far enough to allow a slim figure to slide out from behind it. Leaning on the doorframe for support, she blearily swiped at her eyes as she looked hesitantly at the two suited figures.

As she did so, Danny further took in her appearance. Perhaps due to the obvious interruption to her sleep, her face was drawn and pale, making her look a good ten years or so older than she probably was. Despite the thick robe she had gathered tightly around her mid-section, he could still see the way her tattered sweatpants were hanging tiredly below her angular hips. From the calluses on her bare feet, it seemed likely that she spent a lot of time on them – plus the fact that she was sleeping in the day. Waitress, perhaps?

Reaching into his coat pocket, he once again produced the photograph of Adam Walker. At this action, the woman looked faintly alarmed. Wrapping the robe more securely around her, she watched the two men suspiciously. Danny, sensing the vulnerability this situation was most probably evoking, smiled casually to reassure her.

"Sorry to disturb you, but we're with the Missing Persons Unit of the FBI. I was wondering if you've seen this guy? He was a guest in this room here," he indicated to the door behind them, "on Monday night."

Nervously, she peered over to take a closer look at the picture being proffered to her. As she did so, Danny caught the rancid scent of ingrained grease which clung to her hair – definitely a waitress. He waited as she studied the image, her eyes becoming sharper as the remnants of sleep seemed to dissipate.

Straightening up, she looked back at them. As her expression became curious, her eyes took on a more animated quality. Danny got the impression that this was fast becoming one of the more exciting events to occur in her day.

"Sure. Yeah, I saw him. Tuesday morning it must've been. I was just coming in off my shift. I work nights at the diner around the corner. The sooner I can save up some cash and get myself out of this hell hole the better, right?"

Danny nodded, mentally congratulating himself on his earlier perceptions. She continued.

"So, yeah… anyway, I was just coming in. My shift ends at eight-thirty, so it was like eight forty-five or something, and I see this guy coming toward me. I remember him 'cause he was acting all strange." She paused. "It was kinda freaky actually."

Torn between amusement at the enthusiasm with which the tale was being recounted, relief over acquiring what was potentially the next part of this puzzle, and concern for the implications that this information held, Danny kept his tone inquiring but neutral.

"Freaky? Freaky how?"

She eyed him thoughtfully.

"It was just weird. I was coming up to the front door, looking for my keys… you know, not really paying much attention or anything, and there he was outside the motel. At first I thought he must've been drunk or high or something, 'cause he was like stumbling, like he couldn't stand up properly. He sorta fell into those crappy looking trees out front, like he was gonna throw up in 'em. But I'm kinda use to that. I can take care of myself and everything, so I went over to him to see if he was okay."

"And did he say anything to you?" Danny dipped his head slightly in earnest.

"Sorta. I mean that was weird too. It's like he was talking to himself and kinda clutching at his head." She mimicked the action for the agents' benefit. "I asked him if he needed help but he just pushed passed me. He kept trying to look at his watch so I told him what time it was but he acted like he didn't even hear me." She paused, adding as an afterthought, "the way he was squinting, I'm not even sure he could even see me. I think he kept saying that he had to be somewhere. It sounded like it was real important to him."

The tension in Danny's tone betrayed the sense of urgency he was suddenly feeling.

"Do you remember anything else?"

The woman frowned as she squeezed the final fragments of the encounter from her memory.

"Yeah, I think I just remembered what he was mumbling." She took a moment before resolutely raising her eyes to meet Danny's awaiting gaze, letting her words sink in. "He kept saying that he wished… that was it… he kept saying that 'God, he wished that it would all just stop'."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

2.50pm

Standing outside the motel, at the spot where Adam had encountered his fellow guest, Danny halted. As he looked over in the direction of the shrubbery into which their missing person had allegedly stumbled, something caught his eye.

He moved slowly toward it, pulling his coat toward him against the biting wind as he bent down to get a closer look. Moving the withered foliage away, he turned and called to his partner.

"Martin, come here! I think I got something."

TBC