"John? I was told to wait here in the Commissioner's office." Marcie stood hesitantly by the door.
"Yeah. The profiler is supposed to be here soon. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay." Marcie shuffled uncomfortable under John's hard stare. "Has Michael, you know, said anything to you about Natalie?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I guess he and Natalie have gotten….close recently. He's been really worried about her. I wondered if he's talked to you about it."
John looked at her like she was crazy. Natalie was missing and she was jealous?
"Michael and Natalie are just friends." John took a deep breath. Then another. If he exploded he would definitely get thrown out of the station.
"Are you sure?" Marcie looked like she wanted to believe him, but didn't.
"Marcie, Natalie had a couple of dates with your brother and she, uh. She's not interested in Michael." What the hell am I supposed to say? John wondered.
"Because she was in love with you, you mean." Marcie's lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.
"What do you mean was?" John asked ominously.
Before Marcie could backtrack there was a knock at the door.
"Come in." John stood up.
In came walking a tall, thin woman with a shock of red hair the same color as Natalie's. Or Scully's for that matter. Except the shock of freckles across her face and her green eyes showed that her hair color came from heritage, not the drugstore.
John's hand shook slightly, but his face betrayed no emotion.
"I'm Marcia Kelly, from BSU in Washington. You must be Lieutenant John McBain, formerly of the Vegas, DC and AC offices. A pleasure."
She reached her hand out across the desk and he took it. He didn't say a word. Couldn't.
"You must be Marcie Walsh. Thank you for agreeing to speak to me." The agent turned her attention to the young woman.
"Oh, I couldn't not." Marcie was clearly awestruck as she shook hands with the federal agent.
"Is there a private room we can use?"
John nodded and picked up the telephone. In a moment a uniformed officer walked in the door.
"Tibbs will take you both to Interview 6."
"Marcie, why don't I meet you there. I want a word with the Lieutenant first."
"Sure. Sure." Marcie grabbed her purse and the folder with the journals and her book manuscript and followed the cop out.
"Is it the red hair or the lack of food and sleep that has you so shaky?"
"That's what I love about you BSU types, always so direct." John pasted on a smirk.
"That's what I love about you non-BSU types, always stalling." Marcia's answer was tempered by the friendly look on her face.
"Are you here to analyze me?"
"Yes. I need more than hearsay from your file and our mutual colleagues if we're going to find and bring Natalie Vega home alive."
"Do you believe we can?" John's heart pounded in his chest.
"I do."
John closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels. He didn't know this woman, but he had to believe her. He had no choice.
"You'll know I'd rather be out in the field than sitting here behind a desk reading files and fielding calls," is all he said out loud.
"But you don't have anymore leads to follow up on and you know better than to drive around hopelessly."
"That's about the truth of it."
"You know the odds are pretty high that she's already dead since there hasn't even been a ransom demand."
"You just said we were going to bring her back alive." John knew he was being baited, but he couldn't keep the rage and despair from flaming out of his deep blue eyes.
"And I need for you to be realistic, not fanciful. I know that your interest in the victim is highly personal."
"And you need to know what the kidnappers know about how personal."
She smiled at his observation, but didn't comment on his use of the plural term.
"Find me after you're done with Marcie."
"I intend to. Your cooperation will make it easier." With that she walked out the door.
John wondered where Bo kept his aspirin. He felt another headache coming on.
>>>>>>>>>>
"Tell me about the dreams, Lieutenant."
John looked up in surprise from the tomato soup someone had brought him and Agent Kelly to eat over his desk. They sat across from each other.
"It's obvious you haven't been sleeping and I see in your file you had them after the White Rose case and during the Music Box case."
John's scar began to throb at the mention of Haver.
"How is telling you my dreams going to help find, Natalie?" God, he was beginning to hate saying her name when she wasn't there to answer it.
"For one thing it might help you get some sleep. For another, if this case has gotten personal there might be something your subconscious is trying to tell you. Something you're missing."
John took a sip of the soup, but he didn't taste it. He imagined Vicki Buchanan, with her heart condition, waiting impatiently at Llanfair for word on her daughter. He imagined Clint pacing behind her. He imagined her brothers talking to their army of private investigators. He imagined Roxy crying hysterically on Vicki's shoulder. He envisioned Rex staying nights in Natalie's room at Llanfair where Vicki wordlessly let him stay every night that he came in from the hot summer night to rest and be near his sister's belongings. The least he could do was talk about his damned dreams.
"She's being buried alive. She's helpless and screaming my name."
"Do you see Natalie was a helpless person?"
"No. She's one of the strongest people I know. She wouldn't believe that. She thinks her feelings make her weak." A smile touched his lips as he thought about her strength. About her alive and well.
"But you know that her vulnerability makes her stronger than, say, you who keeps it all bottled inside." It was a statement not a question.
John's lips tightened and he leaned back in his chair.
"Why do you think the kidnapper decided to take her and not Evangeline?"
"Opportunity. I left Natalie alone. I turned my back on her. She was unconscious, she couldn't fight him." John clenched his burned hand and welcomed the pain.
"He also took the woman you saved first."
"I'll leave the psychoanalysis to you."
"Why did you save her first?"
"She was unconscious." John felt his respiration increase and he knew she could tell. Could see and hear it.
"You're angry at me. Why?"
John looked away.
Marcia put her hands on the desk and leaned forward. "It's because I'm making you feel like she does. What you always run from when it comes to her. Even though you can't stay away. Even though you can't not choose her."
"What the hell do you know?" John stood up abruptly and sent his chair back until it hit the wall under the window. He paced around her to the couch and back again to the other door.
"You're already telling me quite a bit."
"You don't know anything about it. No one does!"
"What don't we know?"
"You don't know that her husband is alive and in prison. Where I've left him to rot because he didn't want her to dedicate her life to waiting for him to get out of prison!"
"As a matter of fact I do know about Cristian Vega. Do you think the prison system hasn't done its own DNA test to try and find out who their prisoner is? Do you think the FBI just dropped the case on why this man was brainwashed to take out the Santi family heirs? Interpol, Scotland Yard and a dozen other agencies that have fought the Santi family want to know too."
At that a load seemed to lift off John's shoulders and he leaned back against the door to his office to the side of his desk. He bent over and rested his hands on his thighs.
"You're a former FBI agent and a cop. You had to know that would happen. Even if you kept the secret to protect Natalie Vega."
"The notebook is still in the evidence room downstairs." John stood up and looked at her.
"We didn't need the notebook. Cristian Vega is cooperating with us."
"Why do you know all this?"
"Because I'm here to find Cristian Vega's wife. The woman you love and would do anything, including risk your career and your life to protect."
"Does he know about his wife?"
"We haven't told him yet, but even in a safe house it's only a matter of time before he finds out."
John ran a hand through the back of his hair.