Chapter 32"Peeta," Haymitch calls while gently shaking my shoulder. I go from asleep to full awake is zero seconds and am immediately on my feet. "What? What happened?" I demand swaying a bit. Haymitch gives my shoulder a squeeze and steadies me. "I fell asleep? Don't let me do that," I demand, rubbing my eyes.
"Ya got to sleep sometime. Hate to say it, but we need to play by arena rules and grab sleep when you can," Haymitch directs.
"I stayed awake for days in the arena, I'm fine. So, what's going on?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
Haymitch shakes his head but doesn't argue with me. "Paylor called, she's on her way over with an update he tells me.
"She left?"
"They just gave her a room so she can have a place to rest," he clarifies.
The front door opens and Paylor, flanked by two of her aides, bustles into the dining room. I head for the table as Haymitch rouses Effie who has dozed off on the couch.
Paylor pauses to speak quietly with Detective Michaelson before turning to face the room full of expectant faces. "As you know we put out APB to all the districts yesterday with a description of our suspect and a request that any and all unusual activity to be reported to the call center at police headquarters," She pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath before continuing, "We've received a credible lead from Seven."
My breath catches in my throat and my heart pounds. "How credible?" Annie asks from her place in the corner of the dining room.
"It's credible enough that I'm dispatching a team to investigate further." She answers cautiously. "The report came in from a small town in the northwestern part of Seven. They state that about a month ago they started receiving shipment orders from all over Panem, which in and of itself is not suspicious they often take shipments for pick or redistribution to the surrounding area, but this order was picked up by a personal use delivery drone who's transport coordinates were encrypted. "
"Personal use drones are very expensive to operate," Effie says when she notes the looks of confusion on the group of victors around the table.
The president accepts a tablet from Detective Michaelson and nods "Yes they are," she agrees, as her eyes floating across the screen. "This is interesting," she says mostly to herself.
My desire to snatch the screen from Paylor's hands is so strong I shove my hands in my pockets to stop them from acting, but as if she can read my thoughts the president's brown eyes turn to me and she holds out the tablet to me. "This is the manifest for the order, does anything ring a bell to you?" she asks.
I glance over the list. Most of the items are innocuous, cleaning products, some grocery staples, linens, but about halfway down things get interesting. "This tea," I say showing her the item, "This is the only one Katniss drinks. Sae Beachstrom makes it from local herbs. Also, the soap there," I say pointing it out, "It's her favorite."
Paylor lifts an eyebrow, "That soap is made in twelve too?"
I nod, "Yeah, there's a family from 6 that set up shop in town."
"Well, if this is our guy, he's trying to make her happy, that's a good thing," Detective Michaelson says.
"Alright, so say this the order was for this creep, what now?" Johanna asks from the other side of the table.
"A team leaves for Seven in a couple of hours," the detective says. "They will do a full investigation."
I run my hands through my hair, my thoughts are divided and warring with one another. On one hand, I'm thrilled for a lead, any lead, but at the same time, I wonder if we're all just seeing something into this because we want to. "That's it?" I sigh, my hopes deflating. Effie places her small hand on my forearm, "Come, let me make you some tea," she urges softly. Numbly I follow her into the kitchen and slump onto one of the stools as she rattles around preparing a pot to boil. "I know it doesn't seem like much Peeta darling, but it is a good lead," Effie says over her shoulder from her spot at the sink. I nod but find it hard to rustle up much enthusiasm.
The kitchen door opens and Haymitch and Johanna rush in, "Another list was just sent over," Haymitch says placing the tablet in my hands. "It's from a couple of weeks ago and it's a goldmine!" he says excitedly. I glance at the list and up at him puzzled. He grunts in frustration, "Those purchases for furniture are from the same maker that outfits those in Victor's Village," he explains. "That doesn't…" I start,
"For the same exact furniture," he adds.
My eyes open wide. "You're sure?"
"That's what the eggheads say," he says nodding towards the dining room.
I look back at the list and spot a few familiar items jumps out at me. "These," I say pointing to the screen, "These are the line of baking pans that I use."
Johanna reaches across the table and takes the tablet and scrolls down, "Whoa, look at this," she mutters as she scrolls through the list.
I circle the table and look over her shoulder. "Baking supplies?" I grunt.
Johanna puts the device down on the table and stares at it for a long second before jumping to her feet and rushing to the dining room. Haymitch and I look at each other then rush out after her.
"He's obsessed with the games, right?" she demands from the table of police officers.
Most of the team just stare up at her silently, but a blonde at the end of the table manages to find her voice, "Yeah…I mean yes, that is what we've ascertained from the few people that have been interviewed and his digital presence."
"I don't think it's not just the games he's obsessed with, it's her, well her and him," Johanna says tossing a thumb in my direction.
"The star-crossed lovers?" Michaelson asks bluntly. I filch at the title but shake it off.
"Yeah, that "him and her"," she snorts, rolling her eyes before turning back to the blonde. "I was just thinking about how this Jasper guy physically resembles Peety here. I mean, I only saw him the once, but he's a similar build and height and he's got some fake blonde curls and blue eye, right?" she asks redundantly before continuing, "And that list you just gave us, it is full of baking supplies, very specific ones, right?" she asks looking back at me.
"Yes, the pans, in particular, they are hard to come by but the best," I say, totally surprised by the connections Johanna has made with a simple list of supplies.
The agent's eyes light up and she begins typing furiously, "Mr. Mellark," she calls. I join her at her terminal where I find what appears to be footage from our lobby of Jasper. "Jo, Haymitch," I mutter. They gather around behind me.
"Damn, I think he's even had his face done to resemble you," Johanna says before letting loose a long string of curses.
Backing away, I burying my face in my hands. "How didn't I see it?" I growl, anger pooling in my gut. My hands curl into fists and I angrily rub at my eyes, when a hand catches me by an elbow. "Outside," Haymitch demands, pulling me towards the door. I follow blindly after him into the muggy night. "How did I miss it Haymitch," I shout raking my hands angrily through my hair. "Oh, I know I was too busy worrying about whether or not I wanted to make out with a girl," I laugh humorlessly.
Haymitch's hands squeeze my biceps. "We all missed it, every one of us," he counters.
Tears I've been holding back escape down my face, "Ends up I was worried about the wrong girl all along…I just couldn't…and now…"
Haymitch nods, "I know son," he mutters gently. "She is alive, he…he won't kill her," he offers somberly.
Running a hand under my nose, I shake my head, "He doesn't have to kill her to hurt her Haymitch."
I can see the truth of my statement in his eyes. "Hurt ain't dead," he returns somberly. "Hurt can be fixed."
I shake my head, "Somethings can't be fixed. What if he…if he forces…" I try to put the terrible images in my mind into words, but my throat closes up. Fear that by speaking the words I might manifest the horrible act into reality.
Haymitch visibly swallows. "Even that hurt can heal," he whispers. Since the war, the truth of what happened to Victor's in the Capitol has been brought to light. I never knew for sure, and would have never asked if Haymitch was ever one of the Victors who were sold, but with this one statement that part of his past is no longer a mystery.
"She shouldn't have to," I manage to say.
"Peeta, no one should ever have to." He states. He closes his eyes for a second, before continuing, "Look, we don't even know what this guy is really about. All we can assume safely right now is that she is very likely alive. And alive..."
"Is better than dead," I finish.
His head drops in a nod.
I run my face and attempt to clear my head of the horrible images it has managed to conjure up. "I need to be doing something Haymitch or I'm going to lose my mind!"
Haymitch shakes his head sadly. "I've already been here before…when you were in the Capitol, I understand. Maybe…maybe Paylor will agree to let you go to Seven," he suggests.
I snort, "She was clear about not let us in the field."
"She don't want you traipsing around the wild, this is different. Could help look over other manifests, you and me. After all, we know more about 12 than anyone up there. And if this guy is trying to live your life…who else to look for clues," he states.
He's not wrong. "Yeah…yeah at least I would be doing something," I agree, the tiniest bit of hope spring up, "Let's ask her," I state turning eagerly towards the door.
Haymitch stops me with a hand on my shoulder. "Let me talk to her," he mutters.
I turn and roll my eyes.
"Look you already got into a fistfight with one of her soldiers. You're too emotional to make the play. I got this." He states. I want to argue, but he's very likely right.
"Okay." I reluctantly agree.
He gives me a small nod and heads for the door. "Go get packed," he yells over his shoulder before disappearing into the house.
Running. Based on the sun, I've been running for over an hour.
Shimming down the tree was easy enough and once I hit the ground and pulled my supplies over my shoulder, I sprinted off in the opposite direction Carson left in. After only 30 mins I ran into a fence and I've been following it west ever since. I glance once again at the 10-foot-high steel barrier. It's smooth metal, so smooth the sun reflects off of it and into my eyes. All the poles must be on the other side because there is nothing, not so much as a bolt to gain purchase on so I can climb it. It appears to be fairly new as there is no sign of weathering at all and the land 5 five feet out from it is cleared, free of rocks and any serious vegetation. This is good for running bad for finding a tree close enough for me to climb so can get over it the damn thing. A stitch has formed in my side from the extended excursion, but I push past it. I just need a tree. I think. Preferably two, one to jump into from this side to the other, because a fall from 10 feet could be dangerous, but I'll take anything at this point.
I run for another 15 minutes until my mouth is like cotton and the stitch in my side feels like it's setting my ribs on fire. Dropping to the ground, I prop myself up against the fence and take deep greed breaths. Tears fill my eyes and I reach for the wine bottle for water. I want to down the whole thing, but this and a small glass jar I found in the studio are my only water sources at the moment so I take small sips, letting the water flow over the dry patches on my tongue. I lean my head back against the hot metal and close my eyes. My racing heart begins to slow a bit as I sip on my water. I can't say that I'm refreshed but the burning in my side is gone so I struggle back to my feet. I have to keep moving, find away over the fence.
It's another twenty minutes of running before I spot a tree that might work to get me over the top. Coming to a halt at the base of the tree, I look up into the canopy above. The branches that extend across into my freedom are thin and there isn't another tree on the other side. I debate my options. I could keep running, maybe find another tree, a better, stronger looking one, but this fence can not go on forever, eventually, it's going to take me back south, and that isn't an option.
I let out a long breath. "Fuck," I mutter reaching for my make-shift pack. I take a moment to secure my water, wrapping it in my extra clothes then I tighten the pack securely to my back. I check the laces of my boots then turn the tree. Getting off the ground is straight forward and before I know it, I've reached the spot that will carry me over the top of the wall. Stealing myself, I carefully begin making my way out onto the thinner limbs. They sway under my weight, but they're thicker and sturdier than they appeared from the ground. "So I'll break my neck when I jump and not from when the branch breaks from under me," I mutter under my breath. As I scoot out on the branch where the leaves thin out, I can finally see what is on the other side of the fence. A breath catches in my throat. "I'm defiantly not in 12," I gasp. Out beyond the fence as far as I can see there are giant thin pines reaching for the sky. Far to the north are jagged rocky mountains cut across the landscape and into the sky. These are not my mountains; this is not my land. I glance back at the woods behind me, they are completely different. There are pines of course but there are maples and oaks and familiar plants to me too. It's an arena, I realize. I shudder at the thought, but it also urges me forward. I need to put as much distance between myself and this sicko as I can before dark.
I shimmy out and over the edge of the wall and look down. "Fuck," I mumble again. Taking my pack from my back I lay flat against the branch under me and lower it down as far as I can before letting it drop. As it falls, I say a small prayer that my water makes the drop in one piece, then another prayer that I do. My legs are shaking as I drop down to hang by my arms. I can feel the wall at my knees. Maybe I can slide, I think. I turn myself around so that my butt is facing the wall, and I take a deep breath. "No time like the present" I grunt and then I let go. My back makes contact with the wall and I do kind of slide, which slows my descent a little. The ground meets me quicker than I anticipated but my landing seems good, though it does knock the breath out of me.
For a long moment, I lay on the ground and stare up at the branch I just fell from and access my body for injuries but find nothing serious. I will be sore from the fall, but no broken bones. What about the water? I wonder. Pulling myself to my feet, I grab my pack and reach in feeling for dampness but find it dry as a bone. "Thank goodness," I say, a smile creeping over my face. Tying the pack onto my back, give my neck a stretch as I take in my surroundings. North, East, and West are my options. I have no way to know which way to go, but I know I need to get as far away from here as possible so I take a deep and cleansing breath before starting a steady jog to the northwest.