I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. So, do you think Shannon killed herself and Ben or not? Don't forget to review and a big thank you for getting this far with reading it!

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Café et fraises

Chapter Sixteen

Albuquerque

(Part Three)

Nothing. Shannon had been gone three weeks and they had heard nothing from her. No one had seen heard and the police were hardly helpful.

'Well, she left on her own accord; it's not like she went to the shops and never returned,' said the officer over the phone the fifth time Steve rang.

Suddenly, alcohol seemed very tempting. It was so easy to get drunk when things got bad. He didn't bother to shave. For hours he'd sit in Ben's room, sobbing into his blanket which still smelt like him.

Matt was sent in his coffin over to America where his dad buried him; they didn't say anything about Shannon being missing; only she was too upset to be there or talk on the phone. He was worried and wanted to come down but Steve said everything was under control.

He hated lying. Even if it was to keep the truth was killing someone else like it was killing him, he hated it.

If he wasn't drunk, he was out there trying in vain to find her. The most worrying thing he had found was Ben's buggy, still with his baby bag hung over the handle propped against the wall of Tower Bridge. He stared down at the murky water below, bile coming up in his throat. He swallowed it quickly. She wouldn't, would she?

But he remembered the wild, crazed look on her face all those weeks ago and admitted she probably would. Pushing the buggy home, he pushed all the furniture against the wall to give it a sort of center stage.

But then Steve kicked it across the room and punched the wall.

'Hurting yourself won't help,' scolded Lucy as they sat cross legged on his living room floor that afternoon. She wound the bandage around his hand. 'I still think you should see a doctor about your hand. I think its broken.' she said.

'It doesn't 'urt,' he lied, avoiding looking into her face. Lucy blinked away the tears; she hated seeing Steve like this. It was worse than when their father died. Lucy had only been five, but it still hit the family hard. Pete approached behind her, handing the coffee to Steve who took it with a nod of thanks, sipping the burning liquid.

'You gunna explain all those empty whiskey bottles in your kitchen?' the blonde asked, kneeling down beside them.

'Just an odd drink,' replied Steve hoarsely, putting the mug aside and flexing his bad hand with a wince.

'There's over thirty bottles in there.'

'You counted them?' replied Steve scornfully.

'What Pete means…' put in Lucy, '…is that you shouldn't have too much to drink. What if Shannon does come back, eh? Do you think she'll let you have Ben if your pissed outta your tree?'

'She won't come back. She's dead.' There was silence, before Pete cleared his throat.

'What, mate?'

'I found Ben's buggy by Tower Bridge. Everything was still in there, 'cept Ben of course.' He shut his eyes for a moment, willing the tears to go away. 'She musta jumped.'

'She wouldn't do that,' gasped Lucy.

'Wouldn't she?' hissed Steve, opening his eyes to give her a hostile stare. 'She'd lost it, Luce!'

She bowed her hand, staring at her hands. No one had heard anything from her, so it was a possibility, but still, Luce didn't want to believe it. Problems were made worse when Lucy realized she was late. She knew stress sometimes caused women's menstrual cycles to go a little AWOL, but it still made her nervous.

The fourth test read exactly the same as the first, second and third. Apparently, Lucy Dunham was pregnant. A small groan escaped her lips. She knew she'd love to have a baby but could it come at a worse possible time? Grabbing the tests, she wrapped them in tissue before stuffing them in her bag and leaving the bathroom. She had other things to worry about at the moment.

Steve was planning another search of London for his wife, as Lucy had pointed out there was a chance she was just hiding and still alive; a slim chance, yes, but still a chance. 'I'll meet you 'ere in two hours,' said Steve as they stood outside Starbucks.

'Alright. We'll find her, okay?' she reassured, before they went their separate ways.

Lucy couldn't find Shannon anywhere. She checked down all the back allies, asked local tramps, went into shops.

There was no sign of her.

It was when she was walking back towards Starbucks it happened. A van pulled up behind her and suddenly there were running footsteps. She stepped sideways for whoever it was to go past but then they grabbed her, something sharp jabbing her painfully in the back.

'Scream and I'll gut you,' he hissed. His breath was hot and he stunk of fags. Swallowing her fear, she gave a whimper as he shuffled her towards the van. 'Get in there,' he hissed, pushing her into the back of the van and climbing in after her. Someone slammed the doors shut before getting into the front and speeding off.

The van was musty and smelt bad. Tools were lying about on the floor and she was sat on the toolbox.

'Who're you?' she asked, glaring at the man.

'Does it matter to you? You're going to die anyway.' Her stomach jerked and she looked away. When they got out the van, he tied cloth over her mouth and pushed her into a garage. Her eyes widened as she saw who was in there.

'Welcome 'ome, darling,' Tommy smiled. 'I've missed you.'

--

Steve checked his watch. She was late. Really late. He'd give Lucy another ten minutes before he started to get worried.

She still didn't come.

Steve ran until he reached the Abbey. Stumbling to a stop in front of it, he clenched his fists. All these years of not entering it and… he had no choice. Pushing open the door, he met the shocked face of Pete who had been just about to leave.

'Steve? What's wrong, mate?'

'Lucy. She-' Pete's face hardened.

'What? Fucking tell me.'

'I can't find her,' he said, tears in his eyes. The rest of the GSE looked at each other.

'What the fuck are you talking about?' asked Bovver, advancing forward. 'What've you done with her?'

'It wasn't me,' snarled Steve, not backing down as Pete held his best friend back. 'We went out to find Shannon. We were supposed to meet at Starbucks but she never turned up.'

'When were you supposed to meet?' asked Pete.

'An hour ago.'

'You don't think…' the blonde trailed off, jaw set.

'You'll find her, won't you?' asked a tear strained voice behind Steve. He turned to stare into the devastated face of Libby. Steve pulled her into a hug, but he said nothing. Both he and Pete were thinking the same thing; maybe Hatcher had gotten to her after all.

--

Lucy opened her eyes. It was past midnight according to the old clock on the garage wall. An owl hooted outside but other than that, there was silence. She couldn't even hear a car. A man was sat in the corner of the room, a wrench in his hand, a flask of coffee by his feet. It was a different guy to the one who had put her in the van; this guy was smaller and younger.

'Having fun?' she muttered as she sat up.

'Shut up.' He looked no older than nineteen, his orange red hair peeking out from under his baseball cap.

'Wanna hear a joke?' she asked, getting to her feet.

'No. Sit down.'

'One minute, let me think of a good one.' He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. Grabbing her arm painfully, he threw her back to the floor. 'God, you only needed to ask,' she muttered.

'I did,' he snapped back. Sitting up with her back against the wall, Lucy rubbed her arm and watched him go back to his chair.

'I got the joke,' she said, 'A man walks into a bar: Ouch.'

'Heard it,' he muttered, opening the flask and taking a drink.

'I need the toilet,' she said with a smile. Ginger stared back at her for a moment, before he shrugged.

'Hold it in.'

'No.'

'Yes.'

'No.'

'Will you shut the fuck up?' he hissed. 'You're getting on my nerves.'

'I really need the toilet,' she muttered. Swearing under his breath, he got to his feet.

'Stay 'ere. I'll go see where you can go. Don't try and escape, there's guys outside.' She nodded, watching as he unlocked the door, walked out, shut it and locked it up again. Moving over to the flask, she opened it up. Steam billowed out.

But, she gave a devilish smile. This was going to be gross and put all women to shame, but seeing as they did kidnap her, she wanted to pay them back. Quickly undoing her trousers and pulling her underwear to her knees, Lucy squatted over the flask.

She was back sitting against the wall by the time Ginger returned.

'Right, you can go behind the garage,' he said.

'Don't need it now,' she replied. He stared hard at her for a moment, before walking in and locking the garage behind him.

'Fine, you aint going again.'

'Good.'

'Fine.'

'Wonderful.'

'Shut up! Christ, you're so annoying.' He sat back down, pulling a book out his jacket pocket.

There was silence for a moment. 'So,' said Lucy. 'What're reading?'

'Nothing that matters to you. Go to sleep or something.'

'Aww,' she said in a baby voice. 'Is someone grouchy?'

'Look, it's called War Machine by Andy Remic.'

'Is it good?'

'Yes.'

'No.'

'What?'

'Huh?'

Ginger gave a growl of annoyance and picked up his flask. Lucy waited with bated breath, but he put it down again and rubbed his eyes. Lucy sighed and then yawned, looking about. 'So, where are we, Ginger?'

'I'm not called Ginger,' he said, face flushed. He must be called that a lot.

'What's your name?'

'David.'

'Where are we, David?'

'In a garage.'

'No shit,' she replied. 'How old are you?'

'Twenty,' he replied, flicking the page of his book.

'How long are you gunna keep me 'ere?'

David put the book down. 'As long as Tommy wants you alive, alright? Now, go to sleep.'

'No.'

'Fine, you just sit there and shut up.'

'Yes.'

'Good.'

'Bad.' David gritted his teeth and ignored her. Picking up his flask, he unscrewed the top and took a big swig. Spitting it out over his book, he dropped it on the floor and jumped to his feet. The coffee-piss spread along the floor as he retched and Lucy fell on her side in laughter.

'You okay in there, boy?' said a gruff voice outside.

'Fine,' he choked. 'My coffee tastes off.' He turned and glared at her. 'You'll pay for that, you little bitch,' he hissed. 'What did you do to it? Piss in it?'

'That's exactly what I did,' she chuckled.

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I love David!! (I'd google Robin Laing (or just see Babe Heffron from Band of Brothers)) Then, you have my David and you'd love him too!