Megan watched impatiently as Charlie finished one last calculation on the board. He'd been working in the garage all day, barely taking a break save for one trip to the bathroom and to grab a cup of tea, but they both knew how urgent his work was. He stopped writing and moved to the old sofa in one fluid motion, scooping four case files off of the stack of hundreds, and thrusting them at her. "The one on top," he told her.
"John Alexander Reiner," she read aloud. "Your equation gave him an eighty six point nine probability of being the one behind the threats." She thumbed through the other three case files. "These all have higher probabilities." She glanced up and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Why him?"
Charlie shrugged. "I don't know why, but I know it's him." The doubtful expression remained on her face, so he pushed. "Look, I know it's not what the numbers say, but in this case I don't think we should go strictly by the numbers. There's something in there – I don't know what exactly – that I couldn't quantify, but... I know it's him."
"Right," she nodded. She smiled slightly. "Mathematician's Instinct?"
He blushed and looked at the ground. "Yeah. I guess so."
"Okay, good enough for me," she assured him as she removed the four mug shots. "But just to be on the safe side, I'll go ahead and fax all of these to David for him to show around."
Charlie nodded and reached out toward the files. "May I see Reiner's file again?"
Megan handed it to him. "I'm going to go use your father's fax – I'll be right back."
Charlie barely heard her as he was too engrossed in the transcript from Reiner's trial. He had never made any threats toward Don, but there was something Charlie felt he was overlooking. Reiner had been a model citizen throughout the trial – polite, well dressed, non-aggressive – all while calmly maintaining his innocence. He'd even had family support the whole time from his wife. His son hadn't been there, though. Charlie flipped through the transcript looking for any mention of the son and came up empty. He pulled the sentencing report and checked the character witnesses for Reiner and found only his wife's name listed; his son hadn't testified. Was that what it was? Did the son have something to do with it? Charlie pulled out his laptop and settled cross-legged on the floor. He logged onto the internet and began looking for any information or reference to Jacob Alexander Reiner.
--
Don wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or not as the sun started to set. It was nice not to have the heat surrounding him and increasing his thirst, but he knew he was in for another long, chilly night. As if on cue, he saw the Reiners approaching, four buckets of ice cold hell in their hands. He unconsciously began shaking his head back and forth, much to John's delight. Jackie stopped at a safe distance, while her husband continued striding toward him, and Don felt his body begin trembling in anticipation of the cold dousing.
"How was your day?" Reiner asked cheerily. "Nice and warm? I bet you're looking forward to cooling off, huh?" He raised bucket number one and poured it over Don's head. He was surprised that the agent didn't turn his head, but rather kept looking up directly into the pouring water. Odd, he thought. Realization hit and he couldn't help but chuckle at the agent's resourcefulness. He set the empty bucket aside and beckoned his wife to come to stand next to him. "Jackie, I think we've underestimated our little Fed, here." She remained silent, her eyes shooting daggers at Don. "Do you see what he's attempting to do?"
Jackie squinted in the dusky light, and could just make out the agents lips as they moved around the gag. She listened carefully and could hear faint sucking sounds. Her ire increased as she realized that Eppes was gaining some sort of relief from his thirst. "No!" she shouted angrily as she reached out and wrenched his head back, banging it against the tree. She felt a twinge of satisfaction as a muffled moan that escaped his lips and the sucking noises stopped.
"That's right, Jackie," John smiled. "Hold his head still while I finish." With his wife's help, he was able to empty the remaining water, completely soaking Don, while leaving the gag relatively dry. He patted the agent's head and gestured to his wife to let go. They stood back watching as Don's head sagged to his chest, defeat evident in every inch of his body. Reiner was relatively certain he heard a muffled sob escape the gag, making his smile grow even larger. He slung an arm around Jackie's shoulders. 'This is even better than I thought," he whispered in her ear. He felt her nod against his shoulder, and spoke to Don. "We'll be inside enjoying a nice fire. Don't worry though – we'll be thinking of you the whole time."
Don heard their footsteps as they disappeared back to their cabin. His body was shivering and the cold had already seeped into his bones. He half-heartedly sucked at the gag, seeking any remaining moisture. The last bit had been contaminated by the vile taste of the cloth, but it had still been the most refreshing liquid he could ever remember drinking. Realizing he'd sucked it dry, he gave up and gingerly leaned his head against the tree, trying to avoid the large lump that had been growing in size since his capture. He found himself staring up at the night sky, his eyes moving from one star to another as if pleading for their help.
They ignored him of course, and part of Don's mind resented them for that. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was beginning to lose his grip on reality – delirium is another dehydration symptom, he vaguely remembered – but he didn't care. He was so tired of the constant tremors racing through his body, so tired of the myriad aches and pains, so tired – period – that he closed his eyes offering himself up to whatever fate might have in store for him.
"Don."
Don's eyes shot back open. Charlie?
"Don!"
He squinted in the darkness of the night, just making out a vague shadow in the moonlight. The shadow crept closer, and Don cursed himself for trying to shrink back against the tree, cursing himself again as the pain flared in his abraded back.
"It's me, Don. It's okay."
That was Charlie's voice. He lifted his head, surprised at how difficult that task had become. He tried to call out to him from behind the gag, but Charlie was suddenly next to him, a ghostly apparition on the moonlight.
"Shh, don't talk," the vision soothed him. "I came to tell you that I'm working on the case. I will find you Don, do you hear me?"
Don weakly laughed. Now there was some wishful thinking.
"I mean it, Don." Charlie's ghostly hand was resting on his cheek, and though Don couldn't feel it, he could feel the cold in that one spot fading away. He lifted his eyes to Charlie's just in time to see a small smile spread across his face. "You have to hold on though, okay? I know you can do it, Don. You're a fighter, not a quitter." Don nodded as his eyes teared up and he leaned into a hand that wasn't really there. "Good," Charlie whispered. "I'll be back soon."
Don started to protest as his brother's image faded away, but lacked the energy to do even that much. Instead, he found himself closing his eyes and slipping into unconsciousness.
