A.N.: Aha winter break's almost over. So sorry that this chapter's just rolling out.
Ever since he was young, Alex had been told that 'it was okay to make mistakes' and that 'mistakes are crucial to human growth'. Completely true until mistakes became deadly weapons that the enemies didn't know they had. He had let his guard down, naively believing that Fox's wedding was all going to be flowers, daisies, sunshine, and unicorns.
Well, fault him not for being uncharacteristically optimistic. Nobody had expected the unexpected after all.
"Cub," hissed Travis. "What's the plan?"
Plan? Wryly, Alex replied, "Think if you scream loud enough, they will hear us?"
The kid cleared his throat and really did scream. Alex groaned and rolled over to shield his ears away from the cacophony of sounds. Damn that kid had a lung. But no matter how much Travis tried, the sound of the machines and the thundering of loose dirt engulfed his pitiful attempts.
"It's not working," growled Travis in slight annoyance as he gave the trapdoor a hard punch, then immediately proceeded to nurse his knuckles.
"I can see that," Alex said unhelpfully as he pulled himself to a sitting position against the wall. "I doubt they'll be back to get us. We need to get out of here as soon as possible or we'll be buried alive."
Travis nodded, painstakingly nudged out the knife in his pocket, and with accuracy, cleaved away the rope rubbing his wrists raw. Then he did the same with Alex's until broken ropes fell to a cluster around them. Alex gently rubbed his and rotated his shoulder to get the circulation back.
"I can pry open the trapdoor," suggested Travis as he flicked his pocket knife open again. He more or less yelled to be heard over the noise.
"The machine's still operating," Alex shook his head. "If we open the door now, we'll either bury ourselves with dirt or get clobbered to death. I say we wait till everything stops. They can't possibly work all day for hours."
Travis begrudgingly nodded and slumped back. Watching the kid, Alex felt inclined to at least engage him in some sort of conversation. Anything to keep the kid's mind off of the machine burying them alive, he thought dryly. He got up slowly and moved to sit next to Travis.
However, Travis clearly had thoughts of his own before Alex could even open his mouth. "So what are you?"
"Hundred-percent organic human."
The kid snorted. "I mean, are you police?"
Interested, Alex glanced at Travis. "Why do you ask?"
"Kinda want to be one when I grow up." The way the kid squeezed it out sounded like he had yet to tell anybody else about it.
"Your father doesn't want you to inherit the hotel business?"
"No," Travis paused. "Yeah. I mean, well, no, he does, but we've never really talked about it."
Oh. "You don't want to work in that line of business?"
Travis frowned. "No, it's not that. I mean, yeah, I'm okay if that's what he wants. If he asks, I'll do it. But it's not something I feel so passionate about."
"Oh?"
"Being a powerful man like my father sounds really appealing and exciting, but I, I just don't feel any sort of pull toward it."
Parent and child disagreement. Well, Alex never really got a chance to experience that. "Have you talked with your father about what you want?"
"No, I haven't. But he's supportive of everything I do." Alex frowned at the confession. Then what was the problem? "Too supportive."
"Doesn't sound like a bad thing to me?"
Travis laughed and shook his head. "It's not a bad thing. It's just that, the pressure. I want him to be proud of me but I'm just always half-arsing everything. I want to try harder, but those thoughts are always just surges of momentary emotions."
"Look, when I was—"
Suddenly, the sound of engines above them stopped. The deafening silence shattered the rest of the conversation. Alex and Travis exchanged a quick glance, scrambled to their feet, and waited. Sounded like it was time for lunch. Or dinner break. Or breakfast break. Whatever.
Alex held out his hand for the knife, Travis passed it to him, and he gingerly sank it into the small cracks in the trapdoor. The cracks were packed deep by the smaller debris of sand and rocks. Coughing as clouds of sand pummeled from the first stab, Alex batted the cloud away and stepped away.
"Something wrong?" asked Travis.
Yeah. "I think there are more dirt and sand where these came from," Alex told the kid as he slid the knife back into its slot. Reaching up, he knocked on the board. Solid. Definitely blocked. "Don't think it's a good idea to open the door just yet." Especially when the door opened inward.
"Then what are we going to do?" Travis looked just a tad bit nervous.
"Well." Alex opened his mouth, watching the expectant look on the kid's face. Dammit. "That's a great question."
"We're asking the wrong questions," muttered Snake as he pulled a fuming Fox and Wolf away from the interrogation room. "They're not gonna just give up information after going to so much trouble to kidnap Cub and Cole."
"Well, what's the right question then?" Fox snapped back, took a deep breath, and apologized for his tone. Snake took it naturally, giving him a quick pat on the shoulder to say all was good.
Beside them, having a heated conversation with Mrs. Jones, was the father of Travis Cole. The man had called the deputy as soon as he had found his son's therapist unconscious in his office and his son gone. Strange that the man immediately went to her instead of the police. It didn't take long before the therapist woke up, gave a gender description of the two, and then that was connected to Cub's disappearance. The why was unclear, but at least they had something to start with the help of Smithers, a few cameras, and a quick description of the car and the pair. But cameras only went so far.
"There have been no ransom demands," Snake said. "Nothing at all. It's been almost five hours."
"Everybody wants something."
"Exactly."
Fox glanced past the windows at the man and woman cuffed to the table in separate rooms. They were defiant, and it was written all over their face. They looked almost smug. Was Alex dead? Fox's jaw clenched. Was that why they looked like they had won the war? Alex better be alive or somebody was going to pay heftily.
"You think this is very much related to Cole's first kidnapping?" Fox asked. "Cole escaped, and now they want to do it again?"
"Something along the line, I'd say."
"But why Alex?"
"Cub did help the kid escape."
Revenge? Fox turned to the father inquisitively. Cole had done nothing wrong other than being the son of the wealthy businessman. Then, Alex had done nothing wrong besides being at the wrong place at the right time. Yeah, the spy had a knack of doing that. Alex was a literal trouble magnet, cliche or not. From what Alex had told him, not all of the missions he went on back when he was fourteen were assigned by MI6; some were just troubles he had dug up by being too curious.
Curiosity was a good trait, up till the cat got himself killed. It was a good trait for spies, to have an inquisitive mindset, something to glue them to their surrounding instead of pressing head-on like Wolf sometimes did out of habits. Fox glanced at his unit leader heading inside to interrogate the man again. Wolf, well, Wolf had changed. To be honest, Fox had no idea what was going on inside that man's head but ever since Alex had gotten his memory back and got past—not really—the roller-coaster trainwreck, Wolf had been more tuned in to his surrounding.
For almost four years now, the five of them were a ragtag special force group and Mrs. Jones seemed to have realized that they worked well together. Fox smirked. They did, didn't they? Four years of life and death could do that to people, sort of like apocalypse he thought. Threw people in a burning cauldron and they would either form a chain to pull themselves out of it or die alone trying to climb out by themselves.
Fox glanced at the two-way mirror, at Wolf palms flat on the table, then at the silent man sitting opposite of the soldier. What did the man want? Wolf was right when he said everybody wanted something. Fame? Fortune?
"Where's Cole and the officer you kidnapped?" Wolf was growling dangerously. "If you cooperate, you have a chance to redeem yourself and reduce the time you'll spend rotting in a cell."
They'd been asking that same question for hours now, cutting different sentencing deals to no avail. If anything, the man just looked mildly infuriated—he wasn't afraid of death, Fox realized, he was holding himself up like a soldier. Begrudgingly, he admired the man for it. But no matter how much he appreciated the mindset of a soldier, now was not the time.
A soldier held his tongue for his country; what was the man holding his for?
Fox opened the door and walked in. Wolf glanced up, "Found something?"
"Lemme try," Fox suggested, giving Wolf a quick clap on the shoulder.
A quick fueled glare at the man sitting in the chair, Wolf exited and left the room to Fox. The ex-spy met the gaze of the man quietly. He was defiant, that was fine. Fox just needed to find that something the man was trying to defend, then all the rest would become clearer.
"Let's start over," Fox said. "What's your name?"
The man glanced at him, mouth parted, and for a long moment, only silence passed between them. Then he closed it. "André."
"Well, André, do you know why you're here?"
The man kept his silence. André had refused to answer that question every single time even though they had him IDed and caught on at least one of the traffic cams sporting the same car. That was fine. As long as he knew they knew, they could skip the step.
"Alright, why don't I take a step back," said Fox slowly. "And let you talk."
André glanced at him as if he was stupid.
"Tell me your side of the story. What is it that you want?" Silence. Right, Fox grimaced mentally, maybe he was moving a little too ambitiously. "From one soldier to another, I know you're standing for something you believe in. And I admire you strongly for that. You kidnapped two kids,"—Alex would absolutely hate him for calling him a kid—"for a reason. If it's not for money, what is it? To make a point?"
Leaning back in his eat, André did not break eye contact. Well, at least that was some form of acknowledgment.
"What point are you trying to make?" Fox crossed his arms and stepped back to lean against the wall himself.
Political point? Personal vendetta? Against whom? Fox glanced at the mirror, even though he knew he couldn't see past it. Of course. The first time might be coincidence, but second time definitely wasn't. The first time Cole was kidnapped, it was a ransom demand. But a second time? With Alex? They were definitely very much connected. But if the second time wasn't for money, who said the first had to be?
Fox pushed himself off of the wall and took a seat in front of the man. "What do you have against Mr. Cole?"
Ah. A glint of recognition. André leaned in. "Don't try to understand me."
"Enlighten me."
Eventually, the man sat back. "I want him in here."
Fox glanced at the mirror again and nodded. What harm could it do? André clearly had something against Mr. Cole—unsurprising, powerful people made enemies as easily as it was for them to misuse their power—and if this suppressed anger could bring out anything about Alex and Cole's whereabouts, all the better.
The father came in with Snake accompanying him. Fox offered his seat, but both declined so he chose to stand with them.
Mr. Cole was quick to stride across the room and growled, "You bastard—"
Fox put a hand on the man's shoulder to physically rein him in. "Let him talk."
Sitting back looking as if he owned the place, André smiled. "Mr. Cole, I know you know."
"What's he talking about?" demanded the businessman as if Fox knew.
André straightened, clasping his hands together on the table with the slightest flicker of anger. Fox and Snake exchanged a glance. Definitely a vendetta against the looming businessman. Then his gaze hardened like chipped ice. "Don't play games with me. That's how people get killed."
"Where. Is. My son?"
"Why? You already know, Mister Cole."
André refused to give another word to the businessman and Wolf had to rush in to pull Mr. Cole out of the room before he could launch himself at the man smiling to himself. Snake gave Fox a nod before leaving the ex-spy alone with André again.
"What do you mean he already knows?"
"It's personal."
Fine. Fox respected that, but, "The other kid you kidnapped isn't involved in this."
André gave him a long gaze, gauging him quietly with a hint of…regret? "I'm sorry."
Oh God, no. Fox felt the air leaving his lung with a punch to his heart. The words that fell out of his mouth was nothing more than a soft whisper. "Tell me he's alive."
"He helped the wrong side."
No. "No, goddammit, he only rescued the kid. He's not involved. He doesn't know any bloody side! Alex had nothing to do with your vendetta. Tell me he's alive."
For the first time, the man looked away.
"No, you better—fuck you! Where is he? Tell me he's alive!" Fox roared, slamming his hands on the table.
"...I'm sorry."
"Oh no, no, no. You don't get to be bloody sorry!" jerking the man up by his collar, Fox yelled. "I don't need sorry, I need to know where he is and you better tell me or I so swear to God I will fucking kill you—"
Hands grabbed him, hauling him back. "Fox!"
Fox shrugged off the grips on his arms in frustration as Snake all but dragged him out of the room. Cool, right. Keep calm. André was bluffing. He hadn't gotten his point across yet, there was no way he would just kill the two hostages.
"He said you knew," Fox rounded on Mr. Cole. "Where are they?"
"I don't know!" Then at Fox's glance, the man frowned. "You think I don't want to find my son?"
"Alright alright!" Snake separated them. "Mr. Cole, what does André have against you?"
Leaving the medic to deal with the situation, Fox dragged Wolf aside. He refused to believe that Alex was dead. "I don't like this. We need to find them. Now."
Wolf nodded, clapping him firmly on the side of his arm. "I know. We're one step closer, thanks to you."
"Compliments, Wolf? That's unlike you."
"Eagle." They both turned, startled by the sudden appearance of the sharpshooter. "You found something?"
"Yeah," Eagle waved Snake over. "Smithers and Beck, actually, found something. Six months ago, our man next room, André Cataldi, filed a missing person report for his fiancee Caroline Clyne. Clyne was Mr. Cole's personal assistant."
They all turned to glance at the businessman when he let slip a quiet, "Her." For some reason, it sounded like a curse.
"Yeah," Eagle said, his tone hardened to the rest of K-Unit's surprise. "A few months ago, Caroline's body turned up at an abandoned roadside shack, found by a couple of tourists. André filed murder and sexual assault charges against you, Mr. Cole. But the police weren't able to find any clue linking you to her murder."
Mr. Cole snapped. "That's because I did no such thing as killing her."
"Then why would André believe that you did?"
"The man's delusional," Mr. Cole argued in anger, pointing a finger at André through the mirror. "His fiancee wanted to break off the engagement, she told me personally. He probably didn't like it and decided to blame it on me."
"She was found suffocated, buried, and left for dead in a shack only blocks away from where she worked."
"I had nothing to do with it. Look, I want my son back, you want your guy back, now's not a good time to bring up these petty problems."
"Petty?"
"Hey," Snake put a hand on the sharpshooter's arm and muttered. "I hate to agree with him, but now's not the time. We need to find the kids." He turned back to Mr. Cole. "If what André want is revenge, we're definitely not getting a ransom note."
"He's going to kill my boy," Mr. Cole realized, spinning around, a hand over his mouth in disbelief. "He's going to kill my boy."
And Alex, thank you for caring. Fox shook his head, pulling his thoughts away. Now was not the time to get petty. "André said you knew where they are."
"I don't, alright? If I knew, I'd be out there, not stuck in here listening to…" They listened to the trailed-off voice and turned to watch a sudden flicker of realization on the man's face. "I think I know where. God, I hope I'm wrong."
"Where?" demanded Wolf.
"The shack."
"Where the girl you killed—"
"I did not kill her. He believes in something so foolish, no doubt he wants to complete this insane circle the same way. We need to get there now."
Eagle grabbed a pen and scribbled down the address on the screen, slapping it in Wolf's hands as he said, "That's the address."
They were out the door before Mrs. Jones could input a word.
Now that Fox thought about it, they'd never had to say more than a few words to Mrs. Jones whenever it concerned Alex. For that, Fox liked the woman much more than Blunt who had been nothing more than a cold bristling ice—whose vacation at some place warm to melt his cold dead heart had been a much-needed change in the office. Somewhere in Alex, Mrs. Jones saw an innocent child. Perhaps not much anymore, but in the end, Alex was just Alex. He had his breaking points, and she was taking approaches to make sure that the point was never within reach.
Wolf wore his emotions behind what he thought was a gruff mask, approaching everything with burning enthusiasm. The leader was easy to read when there was a change. Wolf was tough, and he always tried to prioritize his team even as he battled his demons. He wasn't afraid to let people have a piece of his mind.
Unlike Wolf, Fox preferred that others did not know what he was feeling. It was crucial to missions, after all. A spy who could be read like an open book was a dead spy. In more ways than one, he was sure that that was what made Alex and him click. They understood each other without the need to word it. Spies, Wolf would mutter.
Fox knew he was being hypocritical: telling Alex that it was okay to depend on people when they both knew that dependency led directly to the deaths of those they loved. He remembered telling Alex that they just had to be stronger and tougher to protect those they loved. Look where that got Jack and Sabina, Alex had said. Was Alex not strong enough? No, the kid was strong enough—Alex was the sharpest blade but he was pitted against guns. That was all, but it wasn't like Fox could say that out loud: that the kid was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Alex would definitely take it as his fault, that he should've learned to wield a gun rather than a knife.
Well, now that Fox had Stacey, sometimes all he could think at night were ways to hide security cameras and monitor her every action. He was a spy, he made enemies, and any second he spent letting his guard down was a second of opportunity for the enemies. No wonder Eagle called him paranoid.
Stacey expected him to open up, some sort of no secrets between the married, but Fox had always thought it was okay to keep being himself. Sharing wasn't his thing. Throw him a tearjerker, he'd cry, but he wasn't going to share his stories. After all, Alex turned out okay, didn't he? Not that, of course, Alex was a good healthy example to follow, but as an example, he would suffice.
Although ever since Wolf and Alex resolved whatever animosity they had between them, Alex had begun to change. Of course, he wasn't running around preaching about love and appreciation, but he let K-Unit in a little bit more. Visibly, his sense of humor had grown haywire. Perhaps that was the wake-up call Fox needed to start changing as well.
The car slowed down as their path was barred by fences. Construction in progress, the diamond-shaped signs read as the light of the car's front headlight shone upon it. The orange-clad workers behind the cones waved at them with their sticks, shaking their head as if the signs weren't clear enough when Eagle pulled the vehicle off the road and right up to the gate where dirt trucks would roll in to pull away the debris.
"Hey, you can't go in here." One of the workers came by, cradling his helmet in his hands as Eagle rolled down the tinted windows.
Fox and Wolf exchanged a glance, and the former leaned out to ask. "When did you start?"
"Sorry?"
"The construction. When did you start? Weeks ago?"
"Just earlier today."
Okay. Well. There was still the chance that Alex and Cole were in there. How long had they been gone? Six hours? Six hours was a long time. And Fox wasn't even entirely sure that they were in this shack that was about to be stripped down.
"Who's in charge?" Wolf asked. "We need a word."
"Listen, we're in the middle of something here," said the worker. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. Go home, or something. You shouldn't be out so late."
"And somehow construction working past ten is perfectly fine?"
"We have the green light."
They got past the disgruntled workers after hassling and a few threats, including a call to MI6 that immediately put the operations to a stop. They had the trucks and drillers shine light upon the half-demolished house as Fox and Wolf took the lead to navigate past the broken lumbers.
To think that Alex was here, buried, as a consequence of some filthy rich businessman having done something horrible but refusing to admit it, made Fox's brows furrow. Mrs. Jones should've never thrown Alex into the mission in the first place. Fox should've never asked Alex to go upstairs to find the kid himself. Well, if Alex hadn't been a spy, none of this would have happened.
Fox mentally slapped himself. Good job Ben, blaming it on the victim.
"We made sure the shack was completely vacated before we started the demolition," the worker said, nearly stumbling over a particularly large piece of lumber in his haste to hand Fox and Wolf the protective helmets. How considerate.
"What 'bout the basement?" That was where the woman's body was found. "Please tell me you checked the basement?"
"A basement? We weren't aware there is one," the man frowned. "The building map has no record of one."
"Wasn't aware a shack has a building map."
"Well, it was part of the city's underground sewage line. Everything the city built has a blue map. Few years back, the diverged path to here caved in so they redirected the main segment to someplace else. Now the shack is just in the way of the road."
Fox grabbed the proffered map and squint at the blue lines, unable to see clearly until Wolf shone a flashlight on the darkened paper. The worker was right: there were no records of a basement in the building map.
"What 'bout the woman who was found dead here a few months ago?" asked Wolf. "Police report says she was found beneath the floorboards."
"Like I said, we made sure the shack's clear before we went in. We called out for any identification, but nobody responded. It was clear."
The three of them ducked under the semi-demolished beam barely in shape to support the collapsed roof. Snake and Eagle stayed with the car and Mr. Cole. The man had insisted in going in with them, but the structure looked like it was going to kill somebody any day soon and Fox really did not want the death of a wealthy businessman on their hands.
Fox coughed as a small drift of dust cloud made its way upward in the breeze. "We need to clear the floor first."
"Look, there's no basement as far as we saw."
"Can't hurt to look," Fox said in irritation. "Unless you're hiding something. Besides, I'm sure a few decibels less in the middle of the night would do more good than harm to your neighbors."
"Fine," the worker said, getting a shovel from the back of the truck. "Shack's not too big, we can scrape it away. Keep the dump pile from blocking the—"
"Hold up," Wolf said, a frown marring his face. "You hear that?"
A cricket chirped in the night innocently, drawing a strained grimace from Fox. "What?"
"Thumping."
They quiet down, tuned out the background noise, and listened. For a long second, there was nothing. Then the faintest distinct sound of something unnatural came through. A thump, muffled by wood, sounding almost like a thud of a footstep.
"Cub?" It came out softer than he had intended, so Fox tried again.
The thudding stopped. Then it came back a little louder, a quick pause, and then a few more. In a rhythm. Fox rolled his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. Mario Kart, only Alex. "He's underneath. Let's go. Cub, is Cole with you?"
One rather loud thump. Fox wasn't sure if that was positive or negative, but seeing that there was little to no hesitation, Fox was leaning toward a positive response.
It took them a few minutes to locate the basement. It was crudely dug with a hint of personal touches. No wonder it wasn't in the building map. It was definitely built after the shack was erected. They had dug away the sand with the shovel, the sound of contact against wooden boards grew louder by second.
When they yank open the makeshift trapdoor, well, it apparently wasn't Alex who had been knocking on it. It was Travis. Suddenly, Fox feared the worst.
"Where's Cub?" asked Fox, watching the kid cough aside the dust clouds kicked up by the door. "Hey, Cole, where's Cub?"
"He's taking a nap," Travis said as he pointed down the narrowed space. "I'll go wake him up."
"A nap?" Apprehension gripped his heart like no other. "No, I got him. You get out of here with Wolf."
Fox eased himself into the basement after Wolf hauled the kid out by his arms. "Alex?"
The spy was lying on the floor, a hand over his stomach and—thank god—chest heaving up and down gently with each even steady breath. Quickly making his way to the kid, Fox checked for a pulse with two fingers to the neck. Steady, although a bit shallower than Fox would prefer. Underneath the pale white glow of the flashlight, Alex looked even paler than usual.
Understandable, really, seeing that he had just barely been discharged from a hospital. Fox gently tapped on his cheek. "C'mon Alex, wake up. I'm sure you don't wanna suffer the humiliation of being carried."
True to the habits of spies, Alex's eyes slowly slid open but awareness was already washing over the grogginess. Fox rolled his eyes when the kid groaned. "Ben?"
"Yeah, who else?" He smirked, hauling Alex into a sitting position. "Let's get you out for some fresh air. I can smell corpses down here."
"Well," Alex commented meekly as he struggled to his feet but kept his head low so he wouldn't make contact with the ceiling. "Oxygen was a bit scarce."
"I noticed."
"Hey, um," the spy started as they set foot onto the debris-covered floor of the shack with Fox mostly keeping Alex from going zigzag in his steps. Fox glanced over, noticing the way Alex was having trouble formulating his words and keeping the content of his stomach down at the same time.
"Yeah?" Fox prompted.
"Can you just drop me at the house? No hospital."
Fox snorted as they neared the car, "Of course, let's get you straight back home, should we? Then Snake will whip up some chicken soup, wrap you like a warm burrito, and Wolf will sing you lullabies—for fuck's sake, are you daft, Alex? You are going to a hospital. No buts. End of discussion. Now shut up, breathe in the oxygen, and keep outta trouble."
They drove to the hospital in record time with Wolf and Snake up front and the rest of them in the back two rows. The father grabbed onto Travis's hands, but there were shimmering reluctance on the kid's face until Alex offered to switch with Eagle and sit with the Coles in the very back seat.
Well, Fox let it slide even though he would very much prefer to be able to keep an eye on Alex without having to twist around. Travis clearly found solace in Alex's presence, despite the spy not really saying much in what must be a nauseous haze of a dull headache from oxygen deprivation.
They admitted Alex into one of the rooms, and Fox watched as they pulled the mask back over Alex's face, connecting it to the pure oxygen tank beside the bed. The candle burning in the basement along with the trapped space had pulled the oxygen level dangerously low, and Fox didn't want to think about what would have happened if they were minutes too late.
He shook his head. No sense dwelling in the past when the present was as perfect as it was ever going to get. In the meantime, there was something else that had to be dealt with.
That was how he found himself back in the interrogation room, hands laced, in front of André who looked a little more haggard since they last met. Strangely, Fox felt only pity now. The anger had faded away with Alex (and Travis)'s safe return.
"They're alive," Fox began slowly.
There was resignation in those eyes when André sighed quietly. "I see."
Fox pushed aside his feelings. "You wanted Mr. Cole to suffer for what he did."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Why are you asking me? You already know."
"I want to know the whole story," Fox said. "From you."
"So what if you know?" André shook his head. "What good is that gonna to do? The man's untouchable. Nobody believes that a kind and generous man like Cole could do anything wrong." He paused with a grimace. "This wasn't how I wanted things to go."
"You wanted to kill his son the same way he did to your fiance Caroline Clyne."
"Something like that."
"Why did Cole kill her?" When André didn't answer, Fox leaned forward. "Look, we saved the kids not for Cole. It's our job to deal with these kinds of things. We have nothing to do with him."
"What are you saying?"
"We have the power and influences. If we want someone arrested, we can. But only if we have enough evidences. So tell us what you know."
"The whole police is in his pocket."
"Good thing we're not the police. We're entirely way above that." Well, Alex was at least. Wolf and the rest were just a blunt force tactical team. But still, they didn't operate under police jurisdictions. That counted as something.
André met his eyes with a spark in them. "Ah. No wonder."
"What?"
"Jack thought your man was police, but the way he held himself was different. Different jargon and tactics."
"Jack?" Fox arched an eyebrow, a flicker of anger licking his tone before dying away. "Jack, who we arrested the first time for kidnapping the kid?" And nearly killing Alex?
André had the decency to grimace. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that."
"What's Jack's part in all this?"
"Well," the man cleared his throat and almost bitterly spat out. "Caroline's not the first one. She's the third. Jack's sister Jess was the first."
Oh.
"That was a year ago. The police said it was suicide. Jack said they found her in a bloodied bathtub, wrists slit, days after Jess told him that she was going to file against Cole for sexual assault." He paused. "After I filed a sexual assault report against Cole and failed, Jack contacted me and I realized I wasn't alone in this."
"You said there were three victims?"
"Kacey, the assistant before Caroline—her body was never found."