Chapter 30
Detective Lane rubbed hard at her eyes, trying and failing to make them focus. She didn't know why she bothered; she didn't know why she bothered with any of it half the time! All cases ever did was get complicated, and messy to the point she wanted to tear her own hair out by the handfuls, and the worst thing was that she couldn't even do anything about it!
She threw herself back in her chair, finger and thumb having migrated from her eyes to pinching the bridge of her nose. One time – just once – she would've killed to have a straightforward investigation on her hands! But would Thomas Jones and his…his ever-increasing list of fuck-ups and failures as a human being…allow her that much? Of course not! Because apparently her life just had to be difficult. It was a hallmark of her existence!
It didn't even matter that it was only nine thirty in the morning, or that she'd been in her office since before the sun had decided to show its face to the world. She had too much work to do to be anywhere else, even if the word "sleep" was rapidly losing its place in her vocabulary. Strong black coffee had taken its place as a shitty substitute, but it kept her alert enough to get through the load. That was all that mattered.
She was on her third cup of the station's own jet fuel already. She'd grabbed her first one before she'd even unlocked her office that morning, she'd polished off her second while she was busy calling Niles Brightmore and Stewart Babcock in, and she'd been using the latest to help make the last half an hour seem just that tiny little bit more bearable until Niles and Stewart arrived.
God only knew she could use all the help she could get! She'd been turning to the clock every few minutes for all that time and if she thought it got any slower, it might start going fucking backwards, or some shit…!
Her brooding and the long, hard (exhausted and exasperated) stare that she'd turned down towards her desk were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. The detective's eyes immediately snapped up, the fingers she'd had steepled in front of her flying to the arms of her chair when she saw that Niles and Stewart had made it, at last.
All but leaping out of her seat, she went to greet them at the door.
"Mr Brightmore, Mr Babcock, please – come in," she wasn't about to stand around worrying about 'hellos' and 'how are yous' when there was a job to do and she had the unfortunate task of being the one to tell them. "Have a seat by my desk, we need to get on this right away."
She shut the door behind them, while Niles and Stewart started to head over and make themselves at home in the seats.
"That's quite a "good morning" right there, Detective Lane," Stewart commented, apparently trying to diffuse the tension even if it wasn't his responsibility. "Is everything going okay?"
"Mr Babcock, if everything were 'going okay', I wouldn't have called you in at this time in the morning," Lane snapped, marching past them to head back to her desk.
She caught the surprised (and even hurt) looks on their faces as she went, and immediately felt bad. Terrible, really, considering everything Stewart had already gone through! It was her own fault she'd snarled like that – the man hadn't even done anything wrong; he'd only been asking out of concern, and she'd let out all her pent up rage and exhaustion in one go…!
But it was out there now. Too late to change or stop it.
That terrible feeling only got worse as she realised Stewart had paused a little of the way into crouching into a sit. It made him look even more like he was shrinking than the crestfallen expression on his face.
"Oh. Y-You're right, of course. Stupid of me," he said, nearly mumbling the last part out of shame. "I'm sorry."
Lane nearly reached out a hand to try and stop him. She ended up making a halting motion with her hands.
"No, please, Mr Babcock – I'm the one who should say sorry," she said, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose again. "It was my fault, honestly. I just…never mind. Go ahead, take your seats and we'll get started."
She didn't see Niles or Stewart exchange any looks, but she wouldn't be surprised if they did while her back was turned to look for the case's file. Well, not a file per se – C.C.'s case wasn't just one file anymore. Now, everything to do with it was kept in one large-sized cardboard box that Lane kept on a shelving unit close to her desk. If she ever needed anything, she knew it would be in there, close at hand. She'd pored over everything in there several times, too, each for hours at a time.
Well, mostly everything. What they were going to look at now hadn't been in there long enough for that.
Lane grabbed the whole box, bringing it back to her desk and setting it down with a thud that made her coffee do an impression of the glass of water from Jurassic Park. She took out the latest (and thinnest) file that sat on top, set that down on the desk, and opened it.
Turning it around and pushing it forward, she allowed the two now-seated men to see what she had been shown for the first time only hours ago: a crime scene photo, of a little patch of wilderness in the middle of Backwater, Nowhere, with a partially burned-out car stuck off to one side like even the camera knew it was supposed to stay hidden, and a white tarp covering a body. And they'd know it was a body – they weren't stupid; there weren't exactly many other things it could possibly be.
She watched as Stewart's eyes moved back and forth across the picture, before turning up to her.
"Wh…what is this? What's this about?" he asked, pointing at the picture but never letting his eyes off the detective. "This is related to C.C.'s case?"
It hadn't escaped Lane's notice that Niles hadn't looked up when Stewart had. He was staring at the picture of the tarp, his whole body tense. But it looked tense with anticipation, or even hope, somehow? It was like he thought he was about to receive the greatest news he'd ever heard in his entire life…
"Is that…him under there?" he asked, voice practically shaking. "Is that Thomas? Have you found him?"
Lane pursed her lips. She was about to say something that might've been considered unprofessional, by some of her colleagues' standards. Not that that meant she cared – she'd been up before God that morning and had things to do that were twice as complicated, and she was long past the point of giving a shit.
"As much as I'd love to say it is, I'm going to have to let you down. It's not Thomas."
The butler deflated instantly, like a balloon with all the air let out. The colour that had been coming to his cheeks faded away again, too, along with the light in his eyes as they trailed away at last from a picture that no longer held any interest. Lane totally understood; when her team had passed the photograph on to her, she'd had the exact same thought and had probably been almost as excited at the chance to declare the bastard dead…
"Then what're we looking at, if it's not him?" Stewart piped up, bringing the policewoman out of her thoughts.
This was where things really took off, in Lane's mind. She took in and let out a deep breath.
"It might not be Jones, but this is his work. A crime scene he's made en route to God only knows where, while he's busy fleeing our crime scene!"
Both Niles' and Stewart's jaws dropped, eyes widening.
Thomas had killed someone?!
What the hell were they going to do now?! What could they do?! They'd known he was dangerous before, but this went beyond all possible nightmares that they'd ever dared to conjure up! Thomas murdering someone meant he had no qualms about what he wanted, and that he'd do anything – even the unthinkable – to get it!
What did this all mean? What would happen to C.C.?! Was she safe, or would she have to be moved somewhere else again just to keep her out of reach of an absolute maniac?!
They didn't know. Stewart especially. His mind was clouding over and his stomach was churning violently – that body could've been…could've been something so much worse to him…! And it still could – no one had caught the bastard yet, and he was…
Oh dear God…He'd still be coming, wouldn't he…?! He'd be coming for C.C….!
That monster had just murdered someone and now he was coming for his daughter.
Stewart forced his hand over his mouth as he wretched and nearly threw up on the floor, the horribly hot, acidic bile ready to spurt upwards and outwards if he hadn't caught it. Lane was practically over her desk the second she saw, and Niles wasn't far behind in leaping out of his seat.
"Shit! Mr Babcock…!" Lane cried out, rounding the corner as quickly as she could and rushing to his side.
Niles' hand was on his arm already, even if Stewart couldn't feel it.
"Are you alright, sir?!"
Stewart didn't tell them. He couldn't – his mouth was full of bile and disgusting chunks that he had to swallow back, choking and spluttering and never moving his hand from his face even as he started to gasp in the air he hadn't taken in when thinking or when vomiting.
Even when it was done and his airway was clear, he could barely do it. Of course he wasn't okay! Why the hell should he be okay?! He'd fought tooth and nail for nearly a year to make sure his Kitten was home and safe with them, and now she was being stalked by a murderer!
His breaths shook as he peeled his hand away, trying in vain to speak.
"I…I can't…" he rasped, the remnants of the vomit still sour in his mouth. He took another breath, only to find tears welling up in his eyes. "What…what do we do…?! That…bastard…he killed someone…he'll…he'll kill my daughter…!"
Stewart felt the bile coming back up with a vengeance – he couldn't hold it in, no matter how hard he tried. Thankfully, Niles ( having years of experience in dealing with three children, but especially with Miss Grace) was at the ready with Lane's paper basket, which he handed over just in time for Stewart to empty his guts.
"Take it easy, Mr Babcock," Niles said, patting the older man on the back.
"I'll go get him some water," Lane said and quickly left the room.
She was back in practically no time, carrying with her two bottles of water and a small chocolate bar. This definitely wasn't the first time she'd dealt with victims or their family members losing their lunch over a new development in a case, and she was certain it wouldn't be the last. Still, the bright side was that she knew exactly what to do, and that included letting Stewart rest, hydrate and maybe nibble on a sweet treat before she made any attempt at going back to the case.
"Here, Mr Babcock, take this," she said, holding out one of the bottles of water and the chocolate. "And rest a few moments."
Stewart shook his head – he clearly didn't want to take even a fraction of a moment, not when he'd just found out the threat his own child was facing was much bigger than he'd ever imagined. They'd known Thomas was no good and that he'd stop at nothing to get to C.C., but there was a difference between knowing that fact and actually seeing proof of the lengths this son of a bitch was willing to go to.
"I…no…I don't need to…to take a moment," said Stewart in between gasped breaths.
"Yes you do, sir," Niles replied, gently. "Forgive my saying so, but you need to think about your health. If not for you, then for your daughter. She doesn't need any more added stress – least of all now."
The businessman looked between the butler and Lane, and then down at the basket he was still holding.
If it were possible for a soul to frown, that was how deeply Stewart felt his disappointment in himself. He hadn't been thinking at all just then, when he'd been so terrified of what Thomas killing somebody could mean. But Niles was right – of course he was right! C.C. was their priority, and the last thing she needed was the stress of knowing (or even suspecting) that he was stressed about this whole thing!
He needed to calm down from this, didn't he? It'd been obvious to anybody who wasn't sitting around hugging a trash can full of vomit, so it should've been obvious to him as well!
Taking his time to take a couple more breaths, he eventually closed his eyes and nodded slowly.
"You're right, Niles…C.C….C.C. comes first, always," he said. "I'll take that breather now."
The butler exhaled in a kind of relief that made Lane think he was about to say "thank you" or something like that. But he didn't. Instead, he nodded and took the basket from Stewart's arms.
"Okay. Let's get you somewhere a little bit more comfortable than these chairs," he said, gesturing between Lane and the sofa at the back of her office. "Detective Lane, if you wouldn't mind…?"
After what had just happened, the last thing Lane minded was Stewart taking a break – especially not on her office couch. It'd be better and much more relaxing for him than those hard chairs in front of her desk, that was for damn sure!
So, after she'd opened the water and the chocolate and had put them both down on the end table next to the plump, cushioned seats, she helped Niles move Stewart from his chair and across the room. It took both of them to make sure he didn't collapse onto the thing when he made it, and she all but forced the water into his pale and shaking hand once he was safely sat down.
"Have a drink, and then some of the chocolate. Just take a couple squares if you can't manage the whole thing," she told him quietly. "I promise it'll help."
Now much more in the mood to listen to reason, Stewart nodded a little before starting to sip at the water.
Seeing him starting to relax let some of the tension out of Lane's insides. She might've taken care of cases like his before, but until you reached that crucial moment, you never knew which way it would turn. Some people might just get angry, others might refuse to sit or to take care of themselves…
It was lucky Niles had been there to say exactly what Stewart needed to hear. Now they could all start to settle down, and take a moment before getting back to work.
And Lane knew exactly what would help with that. Her coffee was probably cold by now, so she could do with a new one and the two gentlemen – especially Stewart –could do with a moment's peace and quiet.
"I'm going to get a new cup of coffee, give you both some time," she said, straightening up and starting to head back to her desk. "I'll bring some back with me so we can all have a drink when we're ready. The quiet will do you good."
She cast her eyes over both the men one last time before turning away completely. They'd both nodded to what she'd said, which had to at least be a step in the right direction, even if it hadn't looked the most convincing agreement she'd ever seen in her life.
Grabbing her coffee mug from its spot on her desk, she went out without another word and closed the door behind her. It would be the best way to make sure they weren't disturbed while they were in there; Stewart probably couldn't handle the attention that strangers coming in through the door, wanting to know what was going on, might bring. He needed the alone time, as much as it could be alone time with someone else in there that he knew.
At least it was, in some ways, only Niles. The butler was the perfect man for the job when it came to taking care of people, and he knew how to do it with the kind of calm rationality and kindness that could've out-peaced any anti-war movement.
Lane made sure that she dawdled on her way to the coffee machine. It was only at the end of the hall from her office, in a tiny little kitchen she shared with what felt like half the precinct on busier days, but she took as much time getting there as was physically possible. It was the best way to give those two caring, exhausted men in her office a break for once.
It might've only been a small one, but it was something, and she took as much time as she could chatting to other officers using the spot, washing out and properly drying her cup before refilling it with the sobering, kerosene-like black liquid that passed for coffee that day.
She filled one up for Niles, too. She didn't know how he took his coffee, exactly, but considering the time she'd called and the fact that he'd already been up, she could guess that he probably needed something with pep. And this coffee had it, for sure – along with a kick that could've won Super Bowls.
Carrying the cups back from sliding them off the counter (handles gripped tight) was as fine an operation as surgery, but it gave her a perfect excuse to take as long as she needed to get back along that corridor and through the door to her office. She'd probably spent at least ten, maybe even fifteen, minutes doing it all and getting everything set up to go back, and it took another couple to get the door open with her elbow while she was busy clutching the drinks.
"Here we are," she declared as she walked through, pushing the door open with her foot.
Lane was pleased to see that Stewart was looking a little better. Not as pale, even if he did still look frail and upset, and some more of the water had gone. One of the squares of chocolate had disappeared in crumbs, too.
Good. He was going to need the energy, and getting something inside him like chocolate had to be the best way to do it.
Niles, meanwhile, didn't look like he'd budged an inch from Stewart's side in all the time she'd been out. Lane thought he deserved a lot more than the single crummy cup of coffee she set down like a mediocre offering on the end table next to him.
"Are you both ready to get going on this?" she asked, nursing her own cup between her hands as soon as the other one was free. "We can start right now, if that's the case…"
"Honestly, I don't think I'll ever be ready," Stewart replied. "But at this point I hardly think that matters…"
"Mr Babcock, you don't have to hear this if it disturbs you—" Lane said, but was soon interrupted by Stewart.
"Detective Lane, please. C.C. is my daughter – her safety will always come first. So, yes, let's start."
Lane had to stop herself from frowning at the businessman's words. She could obviously understand where he was coming from; as a mother herself, Lane was sure that, if she'd been in his position, she wouldn't have given a rat's ass about her own comfort. She'd want to know everything about the case – she'd demand to know every detail, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential, and no matter how ill it made her feel.
Stewart clearly wanted to protect his child, and that was something Lane could sympathise with. Not that they were the only ones that wanted to keep Miss Babcock safe – the look of determination in Niles' eyes was just as steely as Stewart's, and Lane was sure he'd go to the same lengths the businessman would if it meant keeping C.C. safe from Thomas.
"Alight then. I'll get the file and we can get started," she said, lowering her cup on the end table, next to Niles'.
She then went back to her desk and retrieved the newest file in C.C.'s case, alongside the crime scene photograph, which was still lying where she'd left it before Mr Babcock had become ill.
"As you both know, Thomas has been on the run since the night Miss Babcock escaped his home," she started, opening the file and passing it over to the two men. "I hate to say this, but he's crafty – he knows how to stay under the radar if he wants to, but he had a slip up in Tennessee. The man he killed, Mr James Clark, was on his way to visit some family in Alabama, but he never made it and was reported missing. The police found his body in secluded area near Cherokee National Forest a few days ago and they matched the fingerprints and DNA they found in the car to Thomas'. He tried to burn the car and left the body in the open for the wildlife to deal with, but we got to it first."
"And what does this mean?" Niles interjected. "For our case, I mean."
"It means Thomas is now also wanted for murder," Lane replied. "When he's caught, he'll be facing a first degree murder charge in Tennessee, and…well…federal charges for rape, kidnapping and false imprisonment as well."
Niles' head immediately fell into his hands, fingers raking tightly and painfully through his hairline.
"Jesus Christ…!"
Meanwhile, Stewart's entire expression hardened. He stared up at Lane, eyes never once leaving the policewoman's face.
"Federal?" he echoed quickly. "What're you talking about? What do you mean, federal?"
Lane sighed instead of answering right away, tapping her mug with a fingernail. This was one of the parts of that day's meeting she'd been really worried about having to bring up and explain, and it was one of the things that pissed her off most even if she knew there wasn't anything she could actually do about it. Police business being what it was, and all…
"I'm no longer the lead detective on this case."
The butler's head jerked itself out of his hands, eyes snapping straight to the detective.
"What…?!"
Stewart wasn't far behind him in getting upset about the news, either. He looked like he wanted to get up out of his seat and demand to know what was going on, raising hell in his wake if he didn't get the answer he wanted. But he couldn't; he was still weak, and the sudden movement just wouldn't be possible. That didn't mean the feeling or the wanting to was going anywhere, though.
Lane understood. She knew that every feeling he'd be having was coming out of desperation to see the justice he'd expected done for his daughter.
"Why aren't you?" he exclaimed. "What the hell happened?!"
"Standard police procedure happened, that's what," Lane knew she probably sounded bitter. She didn't care – they'd understand. "Sometimes, when a crime is committed under certain circumstances, it enters the orbit of the federal government. Since we've proven that Thomas crossed state lines to kidnap, lock up and…well…assault Miss Babcock, then her case has become a federal one, and we've got a federal agent leading it – his name's Harry Draper."
She knew the name wouldn't mean anything to the two men in her office. Heck, it hadn't meant anything to her only hours ago! But that didn't stop it from apparently upsetting them; Niles looked like he was about to start yelling about why couldn't they do something to keep her in charge, or about how could they possibly start all over again with this "Draper person" as he'd probably say, so she raised a hand to stop him before he got started.
"And even though he's in charge now and I'm not, you should know that I'm still working the case. Just at a reduced level. I'll still be here to be your conduit, and to tell you about everything that's going on."
"But why is this only happening now?" Stewart asked. "The investigation has been going on for months – why are they only changing is just now?!"
"Because when C.C. was still missing, we had no idea what was being done to her or where she was being kept. For all we know, it was a local issue," explained Lane. "But when she came back and revealed everything that had been done to her, and after recovering DNA evidence from the rape kit and Thomas' own home, it was a whole different ballgame."
Lane could tell both Niles and Stewart didn't look convinced – not by a long stretch. It was understandable, of course – this was a complete overhaul of how they'd been going about Miss Babcock's case. She wasn't too happy about having had to let the feds deal with her case either, but her own thought about the case had no bearing on her performing her duty as a cop and detective. She had to reassure them – make it clear to them that everything would be alright and that Thomas would be brought to justice.
"Look – I know it's a big change, but we've got the best people working the case, and when Thomas is caught, he'll go to federal prison, which is way rougher than state prison. Federal rape charges can carry up to life in prison without parole, too," she said. "And I'm certain that, after everything this son of a bitch has done, the prosecution will definitely go for the highest possible sentence. He's not getting away with it…"
"So it's mainly an administrative change?" Niles asked. "Your department isn't in control of the case anymore but is still involved?"
"That's exactly right," Lane said. "My team and I will be working alongside Agent Draper and his men, and as I said, I'll still be the link between you and the case. You will be kept up to date about everything that's going on. You just have to trust me…"
Her words trailed off into a silence marred only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Lane had been in lulls like this before; it didn't matter how many, though, because she never enjoyed them. There was always a chance that someone was about to flip, or storm off, or say or do something they'd regret…
She didn't want to lose the faith and confidence they'd built up. Not after all the time they'd spent working together to make sure C.C. got home safely…
Eventually, a drawn in and slowly let out breath from Stewart took her attention.
"Of course we trust you," the businessman said quietly. "And we understand that you didn't have a say in this. As long as everything continues to make sure C.C. stays safe, then it's all alright. If it's the way the case itself has to go, then it's the way it has to go."
"I completely agree," Niles added.
That wasn't stopping him from worrying inside. As much as he believed Lane would do everything she could in her new role, and that this Agent Harry Draper, or whatever his name was, would know exactly what he was doing, things had still moved so fast. And going straight to murder?!
The bastard truly was far more dangerous than they had originally imagined, and him being out there somewhere was putting C.C. at risk every day…
But he also did suppose that that was why Lane said they had to trust her. Trust in the police. They'd been there before thousands of times and they knew what they were dealing with. Far better than he did, that was certain – they didn't have federal crimes in the UK! There was no need when there weren't any states to split between…
That had to be that then, didn't it? Just like Stewart had said; if it was the way things had to go, it was the way things had to go.
And speaking of going places, it was probably about time that he should've been leaving. He'd told Miss Babcock that he'd had an appointment with his cardiologist that morning and it was probably way past the time he should've been in and out by now! He'd left Fran there to help out and to keep the producer company, of course, but still – it didn't sit well with him when he was away from the place for too long.
It felt far too much like his own personal responsibility; he couldn't just pass it on to others whenever he wanted! Luckily Fran was just more than a good sport about these sorts of things, whenever there was an emergency…
Rising up out of his seat, he lightly dusted off his trousers and straightened out his jacket.
"If that's everything you needed to tell us, though, Detective Lane, I will have to bid you both farewell for now," he said. "Thank you for the information, and I'm sorry I wasted a coffee, but I really must be getting back to the apartment. I didn't tell Mis Babcock I was coming to the precinct this morning – I only said I was getting a check-up with the cardiologist, and I don't want her worrying about me taking too long after the difficult morning she's had…"
Before he could even take a step to turn and go, or even to get Lane's nod to do so, Stewart instantly stepped in.
"What do you mean, C.C.'s had a 'difficult morning', Niles? What happened that you didn't tell us about…?!"
Niles just about stopped his own mouth from plunging straight into a frown. He didn't want to have to dismiss what he'd said – how could he, when he knew what had happened had been awful to watch and probably far worse to experience? But what good would it do, telling an unwell and ageing man that his daughter had just been screaming and crying in the worst kind of distress over a broken plate?
That she'd told him about how Thomas used to beat her if things weren't perfect? Stewart didn't need to hear about that – not after what he'd just been through. It wouldn't be helpful to him, nor to anybody else, for that matter!
"Nothing," he said. Too quickly. He needed to slow it down. "Nothing that…that couldn't be handled, at any rate. It was just something of a rough morning, and she was calming down from a panic attack when Detective Lane called me to come in."
Unfortunately Stewart didn't seem to take that as enough of an explanation.
"But why was she panicking? What happened to make it a rough morning in the first place…?!"
Taking a sip of her coffee and placing it on her desk so that she could fold her arms over, Lane cut in. She hated to have to, considering everything they'd gone through and were still going through, but what she wanted to say just wouldn't wait.
"Gentlemen, please, that's enough talking for the time being. We really need to focus on another new development right now, so no one is going anywhere. I'm sorry to say that this'll be far more important than anything that happened at the apartment this morning," she gestured towards where Niles had been sitting. "So if you could please return to your seat, Mr Brightmore, we'll need to get started right away."
Niles' eyes slowly passed over Lane on one side, Stewart on the other. He was more than certain that theirs were passing over him, too, and over each other in some weird little standoff to see who would do what first. What were his options? Stay, and be later back than be had imagined and maybe upset Miss Babcock? Or refuse, and miss out on what the detective kept on insisting would be the most important thing he'd see today?
Rational thought crept in like a humble and unassuming royal advisor from behind a huge throne. If it was about the case, he couldn't really afford to miss what she had to say, could he? Not now they knew for absolute definite that it was a matter of life and death. Whatever Lane was about to tell them could mean the difference between the producer staying safe and…and not…
And he'd managed to come up with the whole "cardiologist" thing off the cuff. He could probably find some excuse for being late back there, in his arsenal of convenient lies…
So, it was fine, wasn't it?
"Alright," he nodded a little, turning and heading back to the seat he'd picked out for himself. "I can do that. I may be many things, but I am not a qualified lawyer, so I'll take a look at everything without arguing about it."
As he went to sit, he felt a light pull on his sleeve the moment he was close to getting back off his feet.
"And we're gonna talk about everything that went on at the apartment together, aren't we?" Stewart asked him with a leaned-forward mutter.
"Yes, yes, of course," Niles replied equally faintly, waving the businessman away from his jacket. He hardly meant what he had said, if he could help it. "Later…"
Watching and waiting for them to get comfortable in their seats again didn't take too long. Once Lane knew she had their undivided attention and that no one was going to try and run out of the room to get back home, she could actually show them what they'd really needed to see all this time.
Setting her cup down on the desk, she started rummaging through everything she had in the file she'd taken the photograph from to find what she was looking for.
In an ideal world, it wouldn't exist. Well, in an ideal world, they wouldn't be there having that conversation in the first place. But, in a different, slightly better world, what she was about to show them would never have seen the light of day.
Niles and Stewart were going to hate it. She didn't blame them; she hated the fucking thing herself! Wished it would go away every time she looked at it – not only to make her job that little bit easier, but also to make everything else that little bit easier on one loving family who, quite frankly, deserved to catch a break.
They weren't getting it today though, and that felt like it was slowly ripping her apart. Her only consolation was that C.C. wasn't going to see it; not today, and maybe not for a long, long time.
She pulled out the piece of paper, its plastic protector covering sliding between her fingers as she slid it free of everything else she'd gathered together to make the case.
"Okay. Our front desk received this, a few days ago," she turned and held it up for them to see. "I've filed it for safekeeping, and there's still some things we need to find out about it, but basically it's a letter."
Stewart looked at her blankly, "A letter."
"Yes," replied Lane.
"What's so special or important about a letter?" Niles asked. "Surely a police station receives lots of those?"
Lane pursed her lips briefly, gathering herself up to have to tell them everything at last.
"Normally, yes. But this isn't like any other letter we'd normally get," she told them, tapping the plastic with one finger and making it ripple. "This one is important to us because it's from Thomas."
The office immediately exploded with a jarring racket of questions, Niles and Stewart rushing over and crashing into one another's asks and demands as the truth of the matter settled like fallout.
"What?!" Stewart cried out. "You've had that here this whole time?!"
"Why the hell couldn't you have led with that?!" Lane heard Niles say over Stewart's protesting. He made a fair point – they both did. "What does it say?!"
"Give it here – pass it over!" the businessman thrust out his hand expectantly towards Lane. "We'll read it right now!"
Lane snatched the plastic out of his reach. Not that he had much of one, considering he was several feet away and still unwell, whereas she had the advantage of being on her feet and still healthy.
"I'm going to read it to you, gentlemen! This has to go straight to the lab for testing after we've finished here and we can't afford to damage it!" she cut over them sharply, silencing their complaints at not getting the letter right away. She took in a breath or two before she continued. "I'm sorry for having to do things this way, but I promise it has to be done like this. Just remember how important this whole thing is to the case, okay? I'm gonna need you to stay calm and collected while I go through it. Can you do that for me?"
Once again (and for what felt like the thousandth time that morning) Lane held her breath and kept her eyes on the two men in front of her. She knew this was hard on them – hell, this was hard on her – but they had to understand. They had to compose themselves if they wanted to help Miss Babcock.
She hadn't called them in to make them worried sick or angry – it was just an unpleasant consequence of the situation they found themselves in. But as Miss Babcock's main caretakers and closest relations they had to know what they were up against – they had to know the kind of monster they were protecting Miss Babcock from…
"Alright, alright…" Stewart eventually said, raising his hands in defeat. "We'll stay put. Just…please, read us the letter."
Niles nodded at Stewart's words – unsurprisingly, he agreed.
"I will, Mr Babcock," Lane replied. "But, a word of caution – it will be upsetting. So, if at any point it's too much or you need a break, you just have to tell me. That being said, I will not stand for any violent outbursts in my office."
She gave both men a steely, warning look.
"So the moment you lose your shit, then that's the moment you'll be escorted out until you've calmed down. Am I clear?" she finished.
Lane was used to being tough on people. She wouldn't be where she was if she didn't know how to put the fear of God in any man's heart, all while being the most efficient bitch the precinct had ever seen. She took pride in her job, and while she felt for Miss Babcock's family and the woman herself, there were some limits she still felt should be respected.
Both men seemed to understand, at any rate. So, after one last look in their direction, Lane lowered her eyes to the letter began to read.
"Detective Lane,
I'm addressing this letter to you because, over the course of the last few months, you've made sticking your ugly nose in my own personal business your raison d'être. I also know this is the fastest way to get this little missive to my traitorous cunt of a wife, now that she's bolted from her old hole in a ridiculous (and ultimately feeble) attempt to avoid being found by me. So be a good bitch and tell my wife the following:
1 - I know they've moved you, bitch. I know you no longer live in your old penthouse, but it doesn't matter. I will fucking find you.
2 - When I do find you – and I will – get ready to be dragged back into your shithole by your fucking hair. If you thought life at home was bad the first time around, then you just fucking wait. You'll be beaten, fucked and worked until you drop dead. Or until I get bored of you, so same thing.
3 - I am nothing if not a patient man. I will wait for the right time, just like I did the first time, and when it arrives, no one will ever see your ugly face again. I'll be your whole fucking world until I put you out of your misery. This letter is proof I can get to you if I want to – I will hunt you down, MARK MY WORDS.
4 - No matter what anyone around you says – your parents, brother, friends and especially that good-for-nothing cunt of a butler, you are worth nothing. You are a broken toy, and you belong to me.
You always will.
I will see you soon.
Your husband, Thomas Jones."
Lane didn't know what she'd expected when she'd finished the letter – she supposed an overwhelmingly deafening silence had to be one of the answers.
Lowering the paper to put it away, she slowly turned her eyes to the two men in front of her. The sight was as bad as she could've imagined, and she understood that entirely. This was hard. No doubt the hardest thing either of them had ever gone through, and until the sick bastard who'd written the thing was put away, they'd never have peace.
Understanding the whys didn't make it any easier, seeing Stewart with his head between his legs and breathing like he thought he'd collapse. The guilt ripped into her for that one; this was an old man they were talking about! The stress had already been making him sick enough, so what could this letter do? Listening to all the threats that Thomas had made and all the things he'd already done to C.C. could actually be killing Stewart!
It wasn't killing Niles. But that didn't mean he looked any better than Stewart did, when the policewoman cast her eyes to him from the curled up shape of the businessman.
Niles looked like a bomb, and his fuse was about to burn down and he was going to explode. It was there, burning away under his trembling skin, and even if Lane didn't blame him at all for it, she couldn't let it happen here.
"Niles, I know that was hard to listen to, but I need you to calm do—"
"Don't," the butler cut her off sharply, raising one hand like he could halt the conversation entirely. "Don't…just don't talk to me!"
Lane felt a drop in her gut, "Niles, please. You've got to remember why we're here and who we're doing this for—"
"I know exactly why I'm here, Detective Lane, and I know exactly who I'm here for," Niles retorted. "That's why I'm asking, very respectfully, for you not to talk to me!"
He got up from his seat, and Lane felt herself stiffen in anticipation. She tensed up, like a spring or a coil. Exactly what she was thinking he'd do, she didn't know – it was all instinct and reflex.
"I'm going out. Maybe to punch a wall, or…or something. I don't know yet," his voice was quaking, and he seemed to be trying to keep his breath steady. "And then, depending on the state of my hand afterwards, I'll either come back inside or I will take myself straight to the hospital."
The detective subtly eased herself out of her apprehension, a deep sadness in her heart at the state of the man in front of her. She couldn't kick herself for showing him the letter because he had to know, but it still pained at her to see him like that. To know what he had to go out and do just to get a little bit of the feeling out.
To have to let him go so that he didn't blow up on them all right there in that room.
"Alright. I get it," she nodded. "I get it. We'll be here, not going anywhere. Just…try not to hurt yourself, okay?"
Niles looked back at her darkly.
"I'm afraid I can't make that promise, detective."
He turned sharply on his heel, desperate to get out of there before the rage got out of him. He needed out – he needed out, and he needed it now. He hurried through the precinct, barely thinking about his way there, and bursting through the front doors onto the street with a cry of agonised fury that didn't end until he'd spun and launched his fist at the nearest wall.
It hurt, but he didn't give a shit about that. Why should he? Why should he give a shit about anything, including the pain surging upwards through his hand and his arm, or the stares of the passers-by as they watched him slam his fist into a wall again and again? It wasn't as though they had the faintest clue of what had just happened!
Of what he'd just heard.
He hammered his fist against the wall again, and again, imagining Thomas smug, monstrous face underneath it, breaking as much as the skin on his knuckles and bleeding twice as hard.
He only slowed down when the thought of having to explain a gravely injured hand to Miss Babcock somehow made it through the red mist that had descended on him. For all she knew, he was at the doctor, getting a check-up. If he broke his hand or severely injured his fingers, she'd know he hadn't been at the doctor, which in turn would mean having to explain what had caused him to hurt his hand in the first place, and that was the last thing he wanted. She wasn't going to find out about anything that had happened that morning – the letter, Thomas having murdered someone, Lane not being the lead detective anymore…
At least not for a long while.
If one broken plate was enough to trigger a debilitating panic attack, it didn't bear thinking what all of this would do to her. She wasn't ready to hear about any of this, so until Miss Babcock had made some substantial progress in her recovery, he'd keep it from her.
He was her caretaker – he had to do what was best for her, and currently that meant no more added stress. She had to focus on herself and her recovery, and leave all the worrying to him and her family. They'd make sure that the bastard never laid so much as a finger on her!
Still shaking with anger, Niles took a step back from the wall and he gently shook his arm and opened and closed his injured hand over and over again. The fact he could still move it reassured him about it not being broken, even if his knuckles were most definitely injured.
They'd need cleaning and bandaging, and he was sure there would be bruising in the days to come, but overall the damage wasn't extensive. He could just tell Miss Babcock he fell and cut his palm, or something like that. If he kept the hand bandaged, then she wouldn't be able to see the full extent of damage.
All in all, it wasn't that bad – it was nothing he wouldn't be able to find an explanation to. He didn't like having to lie to her, but it was yet another consequence of what that bastard had done to her.
The very idea of Thomas sent an awful wave of repulsion through Niles' body, and he saw that horrible grin flash again in his mind. He thought he heard the bastard laughing in there too, loudly and mockingly, and the rage flared up so quickly that Niles' fist automatically clenched tight so he could punch the wall again.
But he held it firmly against his side, knuckles screaming as they split open further with the vicelike grip of him clutching his own hand. Grounding himself. He had to – no matter what he felt, none of this would solve anything. What would he get by punching the wall again? Nothing. What good would it do? Absolutely none. Thomas wouldn't go to jail (or, better yet, to Hell) if he kept on bloodying the precinct, and Miss Babcock wouldn't be any safer than she was now.
If he broke down and was forced off the job of looking after her, she might even be less safe. That thought was even less appealing than the image of Thomas floating about in his mind…
He swallowed, starting to let his breathing slow down. The last thing he'd ever do was let Thomas win and get close to C.C. again by letting himself get taken away from it all; the fact that Thomas even knew he'd be in his way was a good thing! That meant the bastard knew it would be a fight.
And it would be a fight that Niles intended to win. He'd make it the hardest fight he'd ever had in his life, and perhaps he'd get to split the bastard's skin open instead of his own that time…!
His hand twitched again, itching for a chance for a real go at the monster.
The itch dulled at his own thought. That was all it was: a chance. A "maybe". He didn't know what Lane had in mind now that that piece of shit had sent a letter. She might decide to upheave himself and Miss Babcock and send them somewhere else entirely while she and this Draper fellow and her team took Thomas down. He hoped not, with every fibre of his being, but he couldn't say one way or another what would actually happen!
It was – perhaps in a slightly sick way – like a lottery. Maybe he'd get the chance to beat the bastard's head in, and maybe he wouldn't. He didn't get to call those shots.
He still had to go back inside and face the fallout from the woman who did. Well, who used to call the shots, anyway. He doubted Agent Harry Draper would have much to say about all of this nonsense he'd just put himself through over the letter – there were more important things to be worrying about than that.
Like setting up a plan for whatever would be happening next.
Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, he slowly unfurled his hand and composed himself by using his good hand to straighten out his jacket. Then, he turned and started to make his way back inside the station, ignoring the stares of the passers-by who hadn't yet moved on from watching him. It was New York, after all; you could stop and watch a deranged lunatic punching the walls of the nearest building if you weren't busy, but you knew better than to try and stop him or get in his way.
His first stop the second he was back through the door was the bathroom. He'd already caused enough of a scene inside Lane's office, and the last thing he wanted to do was make it worse by smearing blood all over the furniture too. Besides, the cold water that came from the hot tap in the men's room was actually quite soothing on his open wound, numbing it nicely, and what soap he could get from the dispenser might have stung a bit, but at least that meant it was doing something to help clean it up.
Wiping a little bit of cold water on his face, he dried his hand and his cheeks the best he could with a paper towel and gave himself one final hard stare in the mirror. In a movie, this might've been the moment he gave himself some kind of a serious pep talk, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing that he didn't already know, anyway.
He didn't have time to be wasting on things like that in any case. Lane and Stewart would probably be thinking he'd had to take himself off to hospital by now, and it was about time he'd proved them wrong.
So, he made his way back, past the same officers he'd left moments before, and none of them the wiser about where he'd been and what he'd just had to do. Unless any of them happened to have been watching the security cameras, that was…
It didn't matter. They probably saw far worse every day.
Lane's eyes were on him the second he opened and walked through the door to her office, too. She'd moved from her desk, which now featured a small green plastic case next to the box full of files on Miss Babcock, to sit next to Stewart. Her arm was around his shoulders to offer whatever kind of comfort she could manage, given the circumstances.
It didn't seem to be enough. Nothing could probably be enough. Stewart had paled even more than he had been before they'd had to listen to the letter, and he was back to hugging the wastepaper basket like his life depended on it. He didn't look up, even as Niles shuffled further into the room.
"Are you alright?" Lane asked.
They both knew it was a stupid question. It was just out before she could stop herself.
"No," Niles replied, maybe a little curtly. "But I'm here."
He saw her eyes dart around a bit as she looked him over. They lingered on his hand, before she indicated with her head towards the case on the desk.
"The First Aid stuff's over there. I had it brought in, just in case the whole hospital thing didn't pan out and you came back after all," she said. "Get yourself cleaned up and we can sit down and have a talk, okay?"
Niles nodded to that suggestion. It would certainly make his whole ruse easier; he wouldn't have to buy bandages, or discreetly do them up in the car before he made his way back so that Miss Babcock wouldn't see.
He made his way over to the case and snapped it open, swiftly finding everything he'd need to get his hand back in shape. That wasn't much, really – a bottle of disinfectant that had to be better than the bathroom soap, a cotton wool pad, and some bandages.
He didn't waste time getting to work, either, even as his mind lit up an image of that morning, and him doing the exact same thing for the producer. It wasn't as bad as that, though. He knew it was only a wall that had caused his pain, and maybe a little bit of it was the sting of the disinfectant on his split and grazed skin. He'd sooner do this a thousand times for himself than have to see her go through another morning like that again.
That was what all of this was for, he told himself as he tied and tightened the bandages, to make sure she never had to.
He gave his hand a minute and stiff flex as soon as he was done, making sure the bandages didn't slip but he could still use his fingers, and he piled everything back in the case, flipping the lid back over for the time being but not shutting it up. That was as much as he could bear to do before the urge to move on and find out what was going on had gotten too much for him.
"Alright," he turned away from the desk, back towards Lane. "Now that we know that bastard's coming back and we've got the letter to prove it, what are we going to do about it? Is somebody tracking the letter?"
"There are some good people working on it," Lane explained, her tone already suggesting that she wasn't banking on success. "But Thomas Jones is, unfortunately, not just some stupid criminal. He's clever and he knows all about hiding, so I don't know how far we're going to get down that road."
She didn't waste time getting into further detail, which was just as well because that last statement had left Niles rather disappointed.
"But that's one of the reasons you're here right now: to help us create a plan of action that'll suit us better than relying on tracking an almost literal paper trail. We were planning on adding some men to Miss Babcock's security detail, for starters."
"And what about moving her again?" Niles asked. "He knows she's here, in New York. Shouldn't we maybe move her to another location? Somewhere he'd never think about looking?"
"We discussed the possibility with Agent Draper but, ultimately, we decided against it," said Lane.
"How…how come?" Stewart – who until then still had his head in the paper basket – weakly piped up. "Why…why should we keep her right where that…that monster wants her?"
"Because Miss Babcock lives in the very heart of the city," Lane said. "Thomas is currently one of the most wanted men in America – if he shows even a pinkie in this city, he'll most definitely be recognised and arrested. Here, we are only minutes away from your daughter, and that means we can keep an eye on her at all times. We still think it's preferable for her not to go out on her own or go on foot anywhere, but overall we feel we can protect her better here, in the city."
"So my daughter has to essentially be a prisoner in her own home for the rest of her life?!" Stewart snapped, finally putting down the bin and straightening his back. "And pray to God that that son of a bitch doesn't find a way to take her from under the NYPD's noses?!"
"Mr Babcock, there is no need to raise your voice at me. I assure you, we are doing everything in our power to ensure Miss Babcock's safety, and even if it isn't ideal, it's the best course of action," Lane insisted. "If we move her to another location, there's always the possibility that Jones will find her."
"And how is keeping her somewhere he already knows she is at any better than that?" Niles interjected. "He's said it already – he knows she's here, in NYC, and he also knows she no longer lives in her old building!"
"And didn't it ever occur to you both that this might be an attempt to make locating her a lot easier? To frighten her into moving away from one of the most secure areas – and one of the most secure buildings – in the whole of New York?!" Lane snapped back. "He knows it's a matter of time before he finds out where she lives, but what we suspect he wants is to get C.C. away from New York – away from us, most of her family, and away from one of the busiest cities in the whole damn country! He wants to make hunting her easier on him, and New York is peak difficulty when there are damn feds on your ass!"
She might as well have doused them both – as well as the conversation as a whole – in cold water, the way the two men stopped dead in their tracks.
"Oh," Niles began, but seemed to lose steam after that. Steam and enthusiasm for his own argument. "That is…rather a good point…"
Stewart was starting to look uncomfortable, too. It was almost like he was ashamed of all the things he'd come out with when he'd been fighting back.
"Yeah, when you put it like that, it makes sense…I've just never had to think of it like that before, I guess…!"
Still not quite out of her temper, Lane just about held her eyes in place to keep them from rolling backwards into her skull.
"No shit, you've never had to think of it that way!" she told them both, an air of scolding children about the whole thing. "It isn't your job to have to come up with the most realistic answer to problems like this, or to rule out what would otherwise look like the perfect solution."
She kind of hoped saying that last part might soften the blow a little. Sure, it might have come out a little roughly, but it was the truth they needed to hear. It wasn't like they were to know any of what they'd been saying wouldn't work! Spotting the traps and pitfalls of an idea, and working out the logistics of what would keep a person safe, was something the police did every day, and were trained to do.
Like she'd said, it wasn't Niles' and Stewart's job. But she did have something in mind that would be a real job for them, and that might curb their frustrations at not being able to do much else.
"But all that doesn't matter, anyway. It's not why I called you in here. Understanding what's going on in that bastard's head and what's best to counter it might be my job, but we need you to do some things which will help to ensure C.C.'s security. To keep her safe from Thomas."
That made both men brighten up a little. Between getting to feel useful and knowing it was something the authorities couldn't do on their own, the unpleasant business of only seconds before must've been left behind them.
"Whatever it is, you can count on us, detective," Stewart said, looking between himself and Niles more than he did at Lane. "I'm sure I can speak for both of us when I say that we're sorry for snarling at you like that. It's been a really difficult time, and we're all a bit on edge."
Lane eyed the basket he'd been vomiting into, and the now-bandaged hand of the butler. Yeah, it was obvious everyone around here was more than a little tense, and that things had been rough on them all. It shouldn't have been a shock to anybody, either, considering what they'd all been through in their own ways…!
"I understand," she said. "Now, you're C.C.'s family, so there are some things you're in a better position to do that might help keep her safe. First, try and make sure she never goes anywhere on foot – we don't know who's watching or where they are, so taking out the risk is better for everybody. In an ideal world, you won't go anywhere on foot either, Niles, just in case you're being followed to get a scope of where C.C. could be living."
She watched as the butler nodded, and knew that he'd be off the streets and into a car as soon as he left the building. She hadn't expected anything less, really – the man would've stopped breathing if it'd been suggested as a way of keeping Miss Babcock safe.
"Next, I'd recommend a change of vehicle. Ideally the new one would be something big, like an SUV, so that C.C. is safe inside and can't be seen by most people when she's out and being driven around."
"Should it be armoured?" Stewart asked. "Like something the President would have?"
The detective considered this for a moment.
"It can be one like that, yes – something that secure would be perfect for keeping her out of harm's way, even when she's outside," she answered. "But if you can't buy armoured, anything big that helps to make her a little more anonymous out there will do."
Both men nodded that time, and Lane continued.
"And I know you wouldn't do this anyway, but I just want to reiterate that only close friends and family should be aware of C.C.'s address and of her schedule. Keep that to yourselves, and make sure the number of people who could know where she is or what she's doing at any particular time are kept to a minimum. This might actually have to discount her therapist, just as a precaution, so I'd recommend she's switched from home therapy to going to his office, with one of you waiting for her outside."
"Okay. We understand what we can do, and we're going to do it all," Stewart looked at Niles for the confirmation everyone knew would be there. "So, Niles, I'll make sure you get that armoured car as soon as possible, so you can start driving C.C. to places she needs to be."
Niles tried not to blanch at that. He probably failed, but he at least felt he kept his composure.
"Yes, that makes sense. Thank you, sir."
Inside, however, part of the butler was wondering just what the hell was happening. First Stewart had put the apartment in his name, next he'd offered to pay him, and now he was giving him a car?! Surely it was all too much, to all go to him?
It wasn't too much to ensure Miss Babcock's safety, obviously. Far from it, if anybody has asked him his opinion! It was just so much that seemed far too grand and important for a simple butler like himself to be trusted with…
But he supposed it all had to be kept close between them. And he was, technically speaking, the closest person to C.C. right now – living with her and helping her around the city, and everything like that.
Speaking of which…
He glanced at his watch and matched it to the time on the clock on the wall. Shit, he really needed to get going! Checkups didn't take this long – handy excuse for a delay in the form of his scraped hand, or not!
"Though I'm afraid I really am going to have to take my leave now," he added quickly. "I'm almost definitely sure Miss Babcock will be starting to worry that something has happened, given that I told her I only went for a checkup."
Stewart's ears pricked up at the mention of C.C. worrying, and his eyes went between the butler and the detective as though seeking Lane's permission.
"Yes! Yes, I think it is about time – I can stay and get more details, if Detective Lane needs to tell us anything else…?"
"There are some plans we should actually go over, but it's nothing the two of us can't handle," Lane told him. She then turned to Niles. "We'll call you later and let you know what's happening, if there's anything major. For now, you know what to do."
Niles nodded. All of the suggestions Lane had made were easy, and even if he was still a little thrown by the notion of the car, he knew he'd get used to it in time. All of it was for Miss Babcock, after all, so even if he was a bit slow to adapt to changes like this, he'd make it work. It might end up being like a toddler forcing a circle shape through the square hole on one of those box toys, but that didn't matter.
As long as it kept her safe, it didn't matter.
And as long as they were all discreet enough about everything they'd just gone through, so that C.C. wouldn't worry or panic needlessly when that wasn't her responsibility, then perhaps everything would turn out just fine.
That was another form of keeping her safe, wasn't it? Protecting her from the things she didn't have to hear?
Thinking about that actually made him wonder if it was advisable for Lane to call him in the first place. If C.C. was in the room for their conversation, she'd overhear and wonder what had been going on, and if she was in the mood for questioning him about it (as she would be – it was still Miss Babcock, after all) he'd have to tell her what had happened.
If he'd thought that morning had been bad, he could only imagine how things would get if he had to tell her so soon…
"I certainly do," he answered out loud. "About the call, though – could I perhaps phone you instead, Detective Lane, as soon as Miss Babcock is asleep? I don't wish for her to overhear, you see. It…well, I think we all know that it will make things worse…"
Stewart's face, which had been wearing some kind of expression of confidence, faded to a worried, thoughtful frown.
"I wish I didn't have to agree with you on that one, Niles, but you're right. C.C. shouldn't have to find out about all of this."
Lane seemed to be in accordance as well.
"No – not yet, anyway. Eventually she'll have to, of course, but we can deal with that when the time comes."
Niles was dreading that notion already, but he knew the detective was right. There would be a time when they'd have to let her know everything that had happened, but hopefully it would be a day far in the future. When Miss Babcock was better equipped to hear it.
Long after he'd stopped having to lie to her about where he'd gone during the day.
"When it comes," he echoed faint agreement, before taking in a breath and starting to head for the door. "I shall see you later, Mr Babcock, and you can expect my call late tonight, Detective Lane."
He left to the sounds of their voices bidding him farewell, and he closed the door behind him to make sure their conversation wasn't overheard as he walked through and out of the station.
Everything about this was going to need the utmost secrecy and discretion, and as much as he'd tried to remain positive and knew that he could do everything that Lane had told him, part of Niles couldn't help speaking up about how worried it was. It'd been one thing knowing Thomas was out there, lurking in the shadows and waiting for his moment to strike, but it was another thing entirely knowing that he'd already struck and had killed a man in the process!
He'd already gone all the way in terms of lengths to get what he wanted. Where could he go from here? What would he do? Would these new measures be enough to keep C.C. out of harm's way, if murder wasn't off the table…?
The butler knew without a doubt he'd fight Thomas to the bitter end if the plan went wrong and it came down to it. Making sure he was the one who came out on top now seemed another, once he'd let the wall-punching adrenaline wear off.
But maybe that was the same adrenaline that would give him the edge in a fight, if it had to? Or at the very least buy C.C. enough time to get away…
He supposed he'd have to see, if it even came down to that; he certainly wasn't going to back out just because of some slight doubts in the back of his mind. That wouldn't be fair on the only person who mattered in this whole thing!
He'd already made his commitment, doubts and fears or not. Whether or not it cost him his life, and whether or not he was the last thing standing between success and failure, Niles knew that he'd do everything in his power to stop Thomas Jones from ever touching C.C. Babcock again.