A/N: Amazing what a Canadian butt kick can do... My thanks as always to Mariel for her excellent suggestions, and for being a speedy beta!
xx--
At the accounting firm, Samantha showed Jack to Steve Emerson's desk. "I'll go and see Emerson's boss and check for anything new," she said, before leaving him for a row of large offices on the far side of the floor.
Jack glanced around at the sea of cubicles that covered the floor, not unlike where he worked in Government Fraud. It was easy to see why you could be missed in a place like this however. The staff were often out, visiting and working at clients' homes and offices. He looked at the desk. Normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. There was a picture of Emerson and his present wife in a frame, not that Jack was really expecting anything of the first marriage to be on show. Normal.
Seating himself in Emerson's chair, Jack wondered, for the first time ever, if he'd been wrong about Steve Emerson. Maybe his wife had committed suicide. Maybe the portrait Emerson had painted of a depressed woman had been true after all.
Jack also knew that very normal people committed murder all the time, and other normal people were always surprised at that.
Refusing to allow doubt into his mind, he looked in the desk's drawers. Paper clips, pens, papers, files, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for a small framed photo of Julie Emerson, tucked away at the back. He had seen the picture at Emerson's former workplace, during the investigation. It had probably been lying in there, forgotten, for years.
Gazing at the photo, Jack recollected the face of the woman he had watched being zipped into a body bag. It reminded him of why he was in back in the city. Thoughtfully, he returned the picture to its forgotten place in the drawer.
He looked over the cubicle dividers on each side; empty, the occupants obviously out and about. According to Samantha, his fellow employees didn't seem to know him that well. Work was work, and he wasn't a great socializer, preferring to go home at the end of the day.
Jack took the files out of the drawer and was looking thoughtfully at the computer when Samantha clumsily tapped him on the shoulder, while trying to balance two large filing boxes in her arms.
"Still nothing, but I've got files and compact discs of the clients he was working with during the last year. They just finished compiling it all."
"Great -we'll take these as well" Jack said, stashing the files in the top box. "I know you found nothing on the computer, but I think we should take the hard drive with us, see if the techs can retrieve anything. I think his disappearance has something to do with his work." He crouched down to get to the hard drive under the desk and began to disconnect the leads. "You said his home computer was okay?" he asked over his shoulder.
Samantha, quite enjoying the view and grinning despite herself, said, "Yes, they're not great net surfers or emailers, their history was pretty tame, and they hadn't wiped it recently or anything. No flags." She watched Jack crawl backwards, lugging the cumbersome hard drive. "I think we'll grab a cab back to the office, don't you?"
xx--
Before Margaret Emerson arrived, they had things to do. Jack delivered the hard drive to the technicians and watched for a while as they searched through the history and trashed files they might be able to retrieve. Samantha kept herself busy sorting through the clients' files and making some phone calls. Jack rang the police department that looked after the area where Julie Emerson had been found, then faxed them through a photo and description of Emerson's car.
They had accomplished little so far in tangible leads to find Steve Emerson, but they were both confident. They had to be.
They were working together in their easy rhythm back in the office, and enjoying it. For all those years, they always worked well together. It was a good part of their relationship.
Samantha reflected that it was just as though Jack had never left. She found herself stealing glances at him from time to time, wishing he could stay longer, and all the time knowing that he would have to leave eventually, depending on the case. She had to admit to herself that there was no way she was over him. Not now, not then, and probably not ever. She sighed loudly as she found another one of Emerson's clients to phone.
Jack looked over at her, watching her chew on a pen. For his part, he knew that while his home was now in Chicago, there would always be a longing for New York, and all its fascinations. One of those was definitely Samantha Spade. The torch he carried for her had never really gone out, and the flame, while it had dimmed for a short time when he was in Chicago, still burned as brightly as before.
xx--
Just after noon, Samantha, Jack and Margaret Emerson sat together in one of the more user friendly interview rooms. Jack sat a little apart, letting Samantha take the lead. He was studying Margaret Emerson, undecided if she was more worried or perplexed at her husband's disappearance. He'd met her kind before; a normal person, amazed at the strange turn of events that led them to be associated with the F.B.I. Often, he found, it was the innocent that handled it better than the guilty.
Samantha asked the standard questions, whether Emerson had been in contact, and if there was anything else she remembered from her earlier interview. Unfortunately, Margaret Emerson had no answers for them.
"I have nothing to add to what I said before, Agent Spade, I'm sorry. I've been racking my brain…nothing." She shook her head, and looked over at Jack. "You weren't involved yesterday," she stated.
"Agent Taylor was with Agent Spade yesterday. I've been brought in to help now."
"Is my husband a special case?" Margaret asked, surprised.
Jack considered this briefly, licking his lips as he chose his words carefully. "I was involved in the case involving the disappearance of his first wife."
"Steve's told me about Julie, of course," Margaret said, looking down. "It just seemed so sad, poor thing. He was ready to move on when we met, about 8 months later."
Jack nodded, glancing over at Samantha. More than likely.
"What was your fight about, why weren't you talking to him?" he asked, taking over the questioning.
Margaret stared at her interlaced fingers. "It's silly really. I wanted to visit my parents in Connecticut; he wanted me to stay home. They don't like him much, he gets a bit resentful, and doesn't like me visiting them. But they're elderly, so I try to go when I can."
"Do you always stay over?"
She nodded. "A couple of days as a rule. He got moody as usual and I just got tired of it."
"You said he left for work that day."
"Yes, -as usual."
"Are you sure?" Jack asked, leaning forward. Something wasn't right here.
"Ye-es," she said hesitantly. Her words said one thing; her face said another.
"How do you know that? You said you weren't talking to him."
"Because he would have gone to work. He always goes to work. There was no reason for him not to," she said stubbornly.
"You spoke to him on the phone that morning?"
"No. But I know he would have gone to work," she reiterated. "I usually do phone him in the morning when I'm away, but during this trip I couldn't be bothered, to tell the truth. Frankly, he really can be a child sometimes and this time I didn't want to speak to him."
"And you didn't phone him the night before?"
She stared at them both defiantly. "I wasn't talking to him. If I'd known he was going to disappear, then maybe I would have."
"So, let me get this straight. He was at work Monday, you left for Connecticut noon Monday and you're guessing he went to work on Tuesday morning?" Jack asked, not quite believing what he was hearing.
"Well, yes."
"But you told the F.B.I agents that you had spoken to him."
"Maybe I didn't say it quite like that… It's only a few hours difference, it wouldn't matter that much, surely."
Samantha sat back in her chair, appalled. What the hell…?
Frustrated, Jack stood up. "Actually, Mrs. Emerson, it can be a matter of life and death. Please wait here, we'll be back shortly. Sam?" He gestured for her to follow him.
After Samantha shut the door Jack turned on her.
"What the hell happened there?" he demanded.
"I was thinking the same thing. He didn't disappear on his way to work; it was anytime after he left work the previous day. Shit!" she hissed.
"Yeah, and our window has just opened up even further. You basically assumed she spoke to him on Tuesday morning."
"We were talking to her when the call came through about the Mayoral case. Danny took the call…" She rubbed her eyes. "Maybe I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have… She said he was on his way to work when he disappeared," she emphasized.
"And you didn't question that? Bad assumption, Sam, they weren't talking!" Jack said heatedly.
"People fight, say they're not speaking and still catch up on the phone," she threw back at him.
Jack knew that she was referring to himself and Maria, and that she was unfortunately right. He calmed himself down. "Look, get her to sit tight. Give her something to read and I'll meet you in the office."
Samantha nodded. She hated screwing up in front of Jack. Such a stupid mistake, and so unlike her. She went back to Margaret Emerson.
xx--
"Okay. So Martin viewed the security footage that shows Emerson leaving the building Tuesday night," Jack stated, adjusting the timeline on the whiteboard.
"Yes," said Samantha, flicking through Martin's notes. "He walks out with two others, you can see they go off to the left, he goes to the right. The camera is pointed towards the door of the lobby, but there's nothing on the outside looking in, or along the street."
Jack eyed the street map on the desk. "I'd say his parking garage is a good ten to fifteen minute walk from his work." He stabbed his finger on the map. "If he was taken, and it's looking highly likely, then this is where it would be from. Give me your keys; I'll go over to the garage."
She got her keys out of her handbag and handed them over, watching as he pocketed them. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said quietly. There was nothing else to say.
He looked at her, softening. "It happens, and it doesn't help when the person you're interviewing is stubborn as hell and hindering you, either," he said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. "It might have actually helped the case when you think about it," he assured her.
She put her hand over his, enjoying the touch, and managed a small smile. "You better get going." He smiled back, broke the contact and went out the door.
Just as he was going down the corridor, Samantha remembered something. "Jack!" she called out, poking her head around the door, stopping him. "We need to eat; you want me to get something?"
He lifted his hands. "Sure, a sandwich will do. You know what I like."
Samantha nodded. As if she'd ever forget.
xx--
Jack eventually returned with the security videotape from the garage, and left it with the tech guys. Then he sat with Samantha in the break room, and ate his sandwich. "Two cameras, incoming and outgoing," he explained. "They have a tape for each 12 hour time span, but the guy on that particular day hadn't changed the tape over when he should have, so it took a bit longer than usual to find Emerson's car leaving. Seems they roll the tapes over on a monthly basis, re-using them. This would be fine if they refreshed the tapes every year or so. It's an old system and the images are fairly degraded."
"Sounds like fun for the guys." Samantha said, playing with the tear top on her soda can.
"Yeah, don't park your car there I'd say… How is Mrs. Emerson doing?"
"I made her comfortable. Gave her an old copy of the history of the F.B.I. to read -she may never leave."
Jack leaned back in his chair, well fed. "You know, I can't figure Emerson out. If we hadn't been acquainted with him before, I'd say he was the meekest, mildest man in the city, with quite an unexceptional life."
"Got that right, a bean counter and a book worm, it's just too exciting…" Samantha shook her head in disbelief.
Jack laughed, and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "Come on, they should have something for us by now."
xx--
They viewed the cleaned up and refined images, such that they were. Emerson's car went down the ramp, away from the camera, and stopped at the barrier. Emerson then leaned out to swipe his magnetic card, and the barrier went up. The car continued and then turned slightly, halting at the kerb, as he waited for traffic. It stopped there for some time, before pulling out. Emerson could be seen in the driver's seat, but the passenger side was obscured by the side of the garage and the angle the car was on.
"Still damn hard to see what's going on, but I reckon someone got into the car," Jack said, squinting through his glasses over Samantha's shoulder as she sat in front of the monitor.
"Considering there's a gap in the traffic for some time, it must be the reason for him to be there for that long." She glanced over her shoulder. There's something about him when he wears glasses...
"Pause it there," Jack said, reaching over Samantha's shoulder to touch the screen. "See, it's like Emerson is leaning over towards the passenger side. He's either talking to or letting someone in the car, before he drives away." He stood up. "We'll send Margaret Emerson home. I was hoping for someone we could actually identify, not some phantom."
xx--
The rest of the afternoon passed in disappointment. The technicians couldn't clean the picture up as much as they would have liked, pointing out that a) the view was fairly blocked and b) this wasn't TV where they seemed to pull miracles out of faded and indistinct images. There was the hint of a shadowy figure in the car on the right hand side, and that was all it was going to be.
There was no sighting of Emerson or his car near or around where Julie Emerson had been found, or anywhere else for that matter. The idea of a guilt-fueled suicide at the scene was then laid to rest. Jack crossed another theory off his list.
So it was down to phone calls and trudging through paperwork –neither of which were Jack or Samantha's idea of a good time.
It was early evening when Samantha finally pushed herself away from the desk. "We're getting nowhere, Jack," she said, throwing her pen down on the desk to make her point. "It's gone cold."
Jack looked at her over a piece of paper. "I know. I thought we'd be closer by now. I'm not the world's greatest money counter, but even I can see that Emerson does his job without too much creative accounting."
"It's not even like they give him the big guns, these are just small accounts and businesses. No one's gone under or been declared bankrupt under his watch. The ones I've talked to have no problems with him."
"Who would take him? Maybe there's a random element here. But he wouldn't have let just anyone into his car."
They were pondering the possibilities when Rosa appeared in the office. "Vivian wanted me to let you know that she needs a rain check for tonight. She and Martin are upstate and Danny's off somewhere following leads. I'm stuck here again and it looking like a long night, so… sorry. I was looking forward to it." She shrugged. "Unless you two want to go out…" she left the question hanging, looking at them both.
"It happens," Jack said. He looked at Samantha. "You want to have a drink?"
Put on the spot, Samantha panicked. "Ah, maybe not tonight, Jack. I've got some stuff to do around my apartment. Catch up on some things," she lied.
Jack tried not to look disappointed. "That's okay. I'll be going through the files anyway," he said, crestfallen.
Rosa nodded, oblivious. "Have a nice night then," and she left them.
Desperate to do something in order to avoid looking at Jack, Sam picked up the files she'd been working on and got up. "I'll take these home."
She felt wretched at her lie.
Jack watched her. She has her own life. I shouldn't presume anything…
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow morning then," he said slowly. "We might think of something we've missed."
Samantha nodded. "Good night," was all she managed before she left.
Jack watched her go, not looking forward to another lonely evening in the city. Even a drink with her, if only for few minutes, would have been nice.
xx--