Helpless
(dedicated to Julie, with thanks for her support when it got difficult)
Chapter One
Jaime never saw it coming, so when the nightmare began, she had no idea what hit her and not even the slimmest chance to fight back or escape.
Steve had spent the afternoon in a meeting with Oscar, Jack Hansen and General Bailey of the Air Force. They'd been discussing the underground intelligence squad the Air Force had put together 16 months earlier; highly effective due to its avoidance of federal supervision and red tape. Steve, an integral part of the original group, had finally convinced Oscar and Hansen that a similar group, under the auspices of the OSI/NSB would never work. It appeared that one of the agents Steve had trained and supervised had recently been killed when she re-surfaced and attempted to turn traitor. Steve had no interest in making any sort of attempt at re-forming his elite intelligence force.
The fact that his opinion had prevailed made Steve feel utterly triumphant. He hurried home in joyful anticipation of sharing the news with his wife. Jaime felt strongly that the lack of official control made the sale of top secret information too tempting, and if the squad were reinstated, more deaths like Claudia Spencer's were inevitable. Steve couldn't wait to tell her every detail of the afternoon's discussion.
The second he walked in the front door, Steve knew something was terribly wrong. The house smelled like...a house. No aromas of exotic or down-home cooking greeted him, and no one met him at the door with a bouncy hug and a kiss. He'd never expected Jaime to start cooking elaborate meals for him - he'd told her he'd be happy eating PB & J, as long as it was with her - but since the wedding she'd become dramatically domestic, which made the lack of appetizing scents very unusual.
Jaime wasn't even in the kitchen. She wasn't outside in the garden or filling the bird feeders. Steve was worried enough to make his way through the house, checking every room and calling her name; there was no answer. He passed from worried to frantic when he found her purse sitting undisturbed on their bed, and her car in the garage, undriven, the engine cold. There were no signs of any sort of struggle, and as he re-entered the living room, Steve noticed a red rose placed neatly on the coffee table with a note underneath it. "I love you, Darling, and I'll see you soon." The handwriting was very feminine, but it was not Jaime's.
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Jaime knew she was in trouble at almost the same moment her husband did. She opened her eyes but the fogginess of sleep remained. She tried to stretch herself awake, but found she was unable to move. She hadn't been tied or restrained, but whatever she was confined in was very small - about three feet square - and she couldn't pull her arm or legs back enough to gather the strength to break through the walls. Jaime didn't know where she was or who had done this to her, but she knew for certain that she was trapped.
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"Maybe she went for a walk," Oscar suggested, trying to keep Steve hopeful.
"Not this close to dinnertime. And she would've left a note." Steve glanced into the living room, where Hansen's investigators were carefully placing the "I love you" note into an evidence envelope. "Jaime didn't write that. She's never once called me 'Darling' and it isn't her handwriting."
"Pal, I hate to ask this, but is there someone -"
"NO!"
"Could Jaime have found the note, assumed there was someone else, and...left?" Oscar asked gently.
"She knows I could never do that, and besides, if she did believe it, Jaime's too strong-willed to just take off. She would've waited for me to get home and then told me in no uncertain terms what I could do with myself."
"You're probably right."
"Oscar, she didn't leave voluntarily; I just know something's wrong."
Oscar nodded grimly. "Jack's got all of his men working on this, and we're on it, too. We'll find her, Pal." To himself, he thought: Hopefully, we'll find her alive.
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Jaime struggled stubbornly for what seemed like hours. The only result was that she was now lying in the box on her side, in a fetal position, instead of sitting upright and scrunched over. This was somewhat more comfortable, but even as her head began to clear, she was still unable to see anything and couldn't get the leverage to so much as dent the walls of the tiny, coffin-like prison. Exhausted, discouraged and frightened, she searched her memory for any clues that might help her.
Steve had left right after breakfast; she remembered that. His meeting wasn't until 1:00pm, but he was also stopping to visit Rudy and then talk with Oscar. Jaime had decided to run her errands before lunch, and had just finished showering and getting dressed. She was about to pick up her purse from the bed and head out the door when the phone rang. The line was silent, no one was on the other end, and...that was the last thing Jaime could remember.
Parts of a foggy, overheard conversation drifted through her mind. Had she heard it in her bedroom, where she was being held now, or somewhere in between? Or was it just a drug-induced hallucination?
"She's all yours...Remember, I don't want any details about how you do it or what ends up happening to the body...I am out of the picture..." This was a woman's voice, low pitched and cruel; Jaime never saw a face.
"Not to worry...You're out of the picture, and so is she..." This was a man, possibly older, but once again, she'd seen no face.
Jaime's mind swirled with terror. The body? Out of the picture? What the hell...?
She didn't have the time to try and figure out what had happened, or what was going to happen. The tiny box began to fill quickly with a fine, choking mist, and Jaime was no longer thinking much of anything.
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Steve watched as the investigators looked for any signs of an intruder, a struggle or any type of violence. Hansen stopped to speak to him as his men eventually began to leave.
"Steve, I'm so sorry this happened. The two of you have been through so much; you didn't deserve this."
"Thanks."
"I'd like you to know we'll do everything in our power - and outside our power, if we have to - to find Jaime and bring her home. You'll let us know if anyone calls or tries to contact you, or if you find anything?"
"Of course," Steve replied. He was grateful that, even though Jaime had only been gone a short time, they were taking this very seriously.
Hansen nodded. "We'll do the same, and I'll keep in touch."
Steve shook the NSB Director's hand and stood at the window until every car had pulled out of the driveway. He decided to walk through the patch of woods behind the house to look for any trace of his wife. The NSB had searched there, but Steve's eyesight was immeasurably better. After an hour of intense effort, he headed back to the house and went into the bedroom to look through Jaime's purse. Maybe he'd find a strange address, name or phone number.
The purse, which had been sitting in the center of the bed, was on the floor. On his pillow, Steve found a second red rose resting upon another note.
Darling, the future is finally ours. Soon, we can finally be together forever. I love you.
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