Chapter Three

Oscar found Steve in the doorway, staring at the bed, his face an expressionless mask. "Blood," he mumbled, as much to himself as to Oscar. "That's...blood."

It certainly appeared that he was right. The covers had been pulled to the foot of the bed and huge, ugly crimson splashes covered Jaime's pillow and the entire side she slept on. The window screen had been cut and the window forced open.

"Blood's fresh," Hansen noted, joining them. "This happened while we were right down the hall. Whoever this is, they know an awful lot about stealth."

"Like a burglar," Oscar speculated.

Hansen's face was resolute. "Like an operative."

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The FBI conference room, which had become the Base of Operations simply because it was the largest, immediately went into overdrive. Following Jack Hansen's urgent phone call, files were pulled on every operative, past and present (going back two years, to start) from all three agencies plus the secret Air Force intelligence squad that had been formed by general Bailey with Steve's help and direct supervision. Upon being activated, all government operatives were fingerprinted for the records, so they finally had a definitive place to start.

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Rudy Wells had been called to Steve and Jaime's house, while Oscar waited with a bewildered and frightened Steve. Both Oscar and Rudy strongly suggested Steve stay in a hotel for the time being, since the 'visits' were growing in terms of intensity and threat level. Steve adamantly insisted on staying in his home, in case Jaime called for help or a ransom demand was made. He also felt that, in the extremely likely event his 'visitor' returned, he stood the best chance of actually physically catching her (or him).

While Steve took a quick shower, Oscar and Rudy had a chance to sit down and talk. "He's falling apart," Rudy noted. "Can't say I blame him. Don't think I could've lasted this long in his shoes."

"They tested the blood from the bed," Oscar told him. "It's human...but it isn't Jaime's."

"Thank God for that. Oscar, I'll stay with Steve so you can get back to work..."

"I would like to help with the recov...the rescue."

Rudy caught the original phrasing, and reality hit him like a giant mallet. "You don't think she's alive," he said, very softly.

"I'm not completely giving up hope, but this last episode was so vicious, so openly - psychotic. I hate to even think it, much less say it, but the chance of finding Jaime alive is growing slimmer by the hour."

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At that moment, almost 26 hours since her abduction, Jaime was struggling with everything she had left, just to stay awake. Her face throbbed where she'd been struck, and the way she was positioned, she was lying directly on the tennis ball-sized goose egg at the back of her head. It did not make a good pillow. The pain made closing her eyes nearly irresistible, but she didn't dare.

Jaime was fairly certain that when "Mr. Not-To-Worry" came back, he planned to kill her. She had very little chance of escape, being injured, blindfolded and still handcuffed, but if she was unconscious, she'd have no chance at all. She kept Steve's face in her mind as a way to stay focused and as calm as possible. Rational, logical thoughts, she told herself. She would figure something out, because Jaime had every intention of returning to her husband.

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"That's impossible," Oscar insisted, staring at the paper Russ had handed him.

"It should be, but there it is," Russ told him. "When the handwriting and fingerprints both matched, we ran the blood. It's a match, too, and it's fresh. We ran that test twice."

"Russ, I need to see -"

His request was anticipated. "Here's the whole file."

Oscar opened it up, turning immediately to the last page. "Russ, get me -"

"General Bailey is on his way here."

Oscar smiled slightly at his assistant's efficiency. "Thank you. When he gets here, send him across the street to my office. He and I need to have a private talk. And call Steve. He needs to be warned - immediately."

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Steve heard the phone ring, and, leaving Rudy on the back porch, he hurried inside to answer it.

"Steve, it's Russ. We've got a match -" That was all Steve heard before the line went dead. He shook the receiver, hung up and tried to re-dial, but had no luck.

"Rudy, you'd better come inside," he called. When he got no response, he headed out the back door. He found the doctor slumped over in his chair, breathing and with no obvious signs of injury, but as Steve moved closer, he could smell the distinctive odor of chloroform.

Before he had time to react, feminine arms that were not his wife's encircled Steve's waist from behind. Whoever she was, she stood way too close, pressing into him and kissing the back of his neck. "I'm here, Darling, just like I promised."

Steve knew he'd heard that voice before, but just couldn't place it. He grabbed her wrists firmly and pushed her away before turning around. "Where is my wife?" he demanded with quiet fury. He kept a tight grip on her as he whirled around. He stood in shocked silence, unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. It couldn't be...

She smiled at him, her own eyes wild. Her words chilled his soul and shredded his heart. "Jaime's dead. We can be together now."

"Claudia?"

"Thought I was in the ground somewhere, turning to mulch, huh?"

"What did you do to Jaime?" he snarled, flinging her - less roughly than he wanted to - into a chair. "If you even try to get up, I will knock you out with one swing. Now - where is she?"

"Couldn't tell you, the un-dead Claudia Spencer answered, still smiling sweetly. "All I did was nab her. Paid someone else to actually kill her. Aww - don't look at me like that. I did it for us. I can do so much more for you than she ever could." She began to get up from the chair.

Steve stepped toward her, his eyes cold and angry. "I wasn't kidding; I'll hurt you." He put his hands on her shoulders and helped her sit down. "Don't move." He stepped off the porch and tore down the clothesline, intending to secure her to the chair so he could get to a phone and call for help.

"You don't wanna do that," Claudia purred, right before the gunshot.

Steve turned quickly, and Claudia - gun still in her hand, pointed at Steve - had fallen to the ground. Rudy, directly behind her, was awake, with his own just-fired gun in his hand. Steve rushed to the doctor's side.

"Are you alright?"

"I smelled the chloroform when she came up behind me," he explained. "Held my breath. Don't usually carry a gun, but I had a hunch we might need one today." The doctor knelt beside the fallen woman.

"Rudy, you're amazing," Steve told him. "Thank you."

Rudy nodded, checking Claudia for a pulse. "She's dead - for real, this time."

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