Chapter Three: The Fine Line
Martin was even more uneasy after hanging up the call. There had been dead silence on the other end for the first two minutes. Then he could hear muffled sounds; shoes on concrete flooring, what sounded like someone being hit, the sound of a choked sob. After five minutes the line went dead. He wasn't sure if it had all been planned for him or if maybe Danny had tried calling him and they found the phone. All he knew was that the note was no joke; the man he'd been falling in love with had been taken. Instead of enjoying a relaxing night as he had been planning to he grabbed his keys and headed back into the city, the sun already sinking toward the horizon. Within the maze of tall buildings it was already night, the shadows creating pools of darkness. He drove as fast as he could without breaking the law but it still took him a good half hour to get to the building where Danny kept his office. There was no doorman to contend with so he stepped into the lobby, ignoring the directory on one wall. He knew where Danny's office was; he had been there more than once.
Forgoing the elevator, afraid that he would fall apart if he didn't keep moving, he headed up the stairs. On the third floor he practically ran down the hallway toward the office door. Much to his surprise he found the door closed, black letters spelling out Daniel Taylor, Attorney at Law on the glass panel. He tried the handle and found it unlocked, just as he expected it would be. Steeling himself for the worst, he stepped into the darkened office, flicking on the overhead light.
There were papers scattered everywhere. Someone had tipped over a filing cabinet, its contents adding to the mess. One of the chairs reserved for clients lay on its side; the seat cushion appeared to have a tear in it. Martin walked gingerly through the mess, making sure to keep an eye on the floor so that he wouldn't step on anything. But at the same time he kept his eyes trained on the objects that he passed, hoping against hope that he would find some sort of clue left behind by the people that had done this deed. When he got to the light-colored wooden desk that was situated near the back of the room he found a pen lying atop it. Martin recalled his visits to the office and how Danny always put the pen back in the mug that he used for a pen holder. The desk chair was broken, one of the wheels a few inches away.
Martin moved carefully around the desk, peering out the big windows at the city as it began to light up for the night hours. Not paying attention to what he was doing he heard the distinct sound of glass breaking as he stepped down. He gingerly picked up his foot and looked down. There was a pair of glasses on the floor at his feet. He knew that they belonged to Danny, even though the lawyer didn't wear them that often. When he bent down to get a better look at them something red caught his attention. He looked at it. On the edge of the desk there appeared to be a smear of blood. His heart skipped a beat as he looked at it. There was no doubt in his mind that it belonged to Danny.
His first instinct was to call Jack and inform him of the situation, start an official investigation into the kidnapping of Danny but then he remembered the note. Something about him having to play a game. Not to mention the fact that he'd gotten the call as soon as he returned home. That meant that they could very well be watching him. He couldn't make the call. His heart sank. What was he supposed to do? Wait until they called again or risk getting Danny killed by breaking the rules and involving his coworkers? Normally the choice was an easy one to make but this was Danny; the man he'd given his heart to. He'd do anything and everything he could to get him back. He decided that it would be best to go along with the kidnappers for as long as possible. When things got too hard he would call in Jack and explain the situation.
Now he had to figure out what his next move would be.
The answer came in the form of an object through the window, the sound of shattering glass filling the small office. Instinctively Martin fell to the floor on his hands and knees, broken bits of glass biting into the palms of his hands. He remained in the position for a few minutes to make sure that nothing else was going to happen. Meanwhile his mind was racing. He was on the third floor, how could someone have thrown an object through the window? Unless they were in the building across the alley. Quickly he got to his feet and turned to look out the window. But there were few lights on in the building across the way, an office building much like the one that he stood in. Knowing that he would never get back down to the ground floor and over to the other high rise in time to catch anyone he resigned himself to letting it go. Instead he began the search for the projectile.
It had landed under the desk. He retrieved the baseball-sized object and found it to be a rock. He thought it would have been clichéd to throw a brick. There was still a message, a slip of white paper held on by a watch the he knew belonged to Danny. Once again he felt his heart skip a beat. He ran his thumb over the glass watch face and pictured the golden band against Danny's honey-hued skin. He could almost smell Danny's shampoo, his aftershave, the slightest hint of his cologne. It just about brought tears to his eyes. Blinking them back he took the watch from the rock, slipping it onto his wrist, and flipped open the note.
There was another smear of blood marring the white paper. Scrawled in cursive were the words, If you want to play the game then go back to your apartment. There will be a message waiting for you there.