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chapter five

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be still my heart
engine turning over won't you start?
this one's come to tear me all apart
be still my heart
-Mirah, "Engine Heart"

xx

8:50 pm

3 hours missing

"Spade," she uttered cautiously, aware that all eyes in the room were focused on her.

"Hey hot stuff, how're things at your end of town?"

Samantha rolled her eyes, and Vivian mouthed "Danny?" as Sam shook her head in amusement.

"Please tell me you're calling with a lead?"

"I've forwarded a couple of video files from hospital security. It looks like whoever took the girls was definitely a member of the security staff, someone who's relatively new. Name's Heather Meekins, she wasn't on duty today. It looks like she changed their clothes and put hats on them, which must have been how they got out of the ER unnoticed. We've got them on security footage leaving from the main entrance at 6:02."

"You want me to put out an APB on the vehicle?"

"Nope, I've got Naomi back here with me, and she's already on it. It's a black Ford Focus."

"Great. You'll call me if anything else comes up?"

"Of course."

"And Danny?"

"Yes, dear," he said, in a sickeningly sweet voice.

"Play nice, okay?"

"Don't I always?"

"That's exactly what I worry about."

"We're going to finish up here, see if we can find anything else before heading back to the office. I want to see if anyone noticed Heather Meekins hanging around this afternoon. Tell Jack we'll be in touch."

"Sure"

Samantha closed her cell phone, immediately turning to Viv and trying to ignore the fact that the entire Fitzgerald family was still standing right there.

"Any news?" Vivian asked.

"Can you call tech down? Danny's forwarding hospital security video that we're going to need to look at, and I've got to put out a request for more phone records."

Both agents quickly turned to the phones at their desks.

"Do we have a suspect?" Victor Fitzgerald's voice demanded as Samantha placed her phone back in its receiver.

She braced herself. "Dr. Fitzgerald?" she asked.

"Please, call me Caroline." Sam noticed that Martin stepped in line with his sister and his mother, bending down to squeeze Caroline's hand.

"Do you know a woman named Heather Meekins?"

Caroline thought for a moment before answering, "I don't think so... no."

"Are you sure? She works in security at St. Michael's."

"I, uh, I don't know. ER security turns over every couple of weeks. It's possible..."

Samantha glanced up at Vivian, who nodded in approval, before turning to face Victor and Martin. "And the name doesn't sound familiar to either of you?"

"What are you implying?" Victor barked at her.

"Sir, we have to investigate every possibility," Vivian soothed. "It will give us our best shot of finding the girls as soon as possible."

The air went stiff as Vivian almost introduced the possibility that Kelsey and Bridget would not be found.

Lydia Fitzgerald finally spoke up. "Victor," she admonished. "Please, don't make this any harder than it already is."

His face visibly softened, and he said "No, no. I don't remember anyone by that name."

"I don't, either." Martin added.

At that moment, Jack emerged from his office as the fax machine by the main table lit up and started printing. "That should be the phone records now, Sam." He said, apparently unaware of their recent arrivals.

"That was pretty fast," she said suspiciously, picking up the few pieces of paper that had printed up.

"Well, that would be because 'Heather Meekins' didn't have a phone line until about two months ago."

"Fascinating," Vivian said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Isn't it, though?"

Victor cleared his throat. "Agent Malone -- may I have a word?" Jack looked up and motioned to his office; Victor followed.

"Why don't the rest of you go back to the lounge to wait. Make yourselves as comfortable as you can, and we'll be in to talk to you when we have any more information." Samantha spoke as she led the group back towards the lounge. "I don't want you to worry -- we're going to do everything in our power to find them."

With that, she turned on her heals and tried not to look at the family who sat there, paralyzed with fear. Though she couldn't escape the image of Lydia as she wrapped her arms around her grown daughter, and Martin, who sat to one side, looking as completely helpless as she felt.

xx

9:35 pm

Martin entered what he assumed was the break room, still in a bit of a daze. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and he knew it was more than the sheer volume of coffee he had consumed that day.

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, twisting the cap open and bringing the bottle to his lips. The water felt cool and refreshing on his throat, and he leaned back against the counter.

He couldn't help but feel guilty. After all, just that afternoon he had been desperate for a way to see Samantha again, but he had been thinking more along the lines of dinner and casual conversation. The thought of Kelsey and Bridget being out there, somewhere, terrified and alone, scared him more than he cared to admit.

The click of heels against the tile floor interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see Samantha approaching him.

"Senator Fitzgerald," her tone was cautious, and his title sounded far too formal and stilted coming from her lips. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

He nodded. "Of course. And I told you before, it's Martin."

She mustered a half-smile that he easily returned, and the two sat down at the table facing each other.

"You have a close relationship with your sister and her children, right?" She started.

"Yes, I do. My family is all I have." He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the tight sensation that seemed to be stuck there. "I'm Bridget's godfather," he added, deciding that fact was somehow important.

"And most people who are around you would know that, correct?"

"I would hope people don't think the artwork I hang in my office is mine," he quipped, and he noticed that her eyes sparkled just a little when she laughed. "But yes, I would think that I've been fairly obvious that we're close."

Martin felt the cool November air against his face as he shut the car door behind himself. He had noticed the media frenzy that had collected in front of his campaign headquarters almost before he had seen them, the commotion they were causing could be heard from blocks away.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the reporters would want to question him about his newly-won position: the previous day had been Election Day, and he had defeated his opponent, Richard Lambert, by a definitive margin for the open New York Senate seat.

"Mr. Fitzgerald!" One reporter called out, "How does it feel to be the youngest Senator elect in over two decades?"

"What are your thoughts on military action in the Middle East?"

"Sir, what can you tell us about your plans for the next six years?"

And finally, he heard a question that he actually felt up to answering.

"Sir, I have to say that you are wearing a rather unusual tie. Does it mean something to you?"

The rest of the reporters went instantly silent, as Martin turned down to finger his tie. It was pale pink, and had an image of Piglet sitting in the bottom right-hand side. He looked back up at the middle-aged female journalist who had directed the question at him. "Actually, yes. I've been reading 'Winnie the Pooh' with my niece, Kelsey, and she picked it out for me. She told me that I could wear it for luck after I won because 'it's hard to be brave when you're a very small animal.'"

He could pick out the parents from the crowd that had gathered, as they were the ones who laughed knowingly.

"Your niece sounds like a smart kid," someone spoke up.

"She's the best," he replied. "But she just turned four. We just mastered coloring inside the lines."

This time, he could hear the entire crowd laugh with him.

"I have my own place here in New York, but I'd rather stay with Caro, Tim and the girls if I get the chance," he finished. "I don't get to see them nearly enough, especially since I've been back in DC."

"Do you know of anyone who has ever threatened to hurt either your sister or her husband? Anyone that they might not be telling us about?"

"I don't think so. If there had been anyone, I'm sure Caro would have told me."

"What about you, then? Can you think of anyone who's threatened you? Radical groups who backed your opponents? Anyone who might have a grudge?"

He thought carefully, his mind racing with possibilities. "Nothing specifically that's ever mentioned my family. I mean, I've obviously made enemies -- you can't be in Washington without making enemies -- but I've never heard anyone threaten my family before."

"Are you sure?" She went on, "Anything that you can give us might help."

"Do you really think that this might have something to do with me?" He knew his voice sounds weak and uncertain, but at this point, he didn't care.

She leaned over the table, and Martin felt his skin on fire where her hand brushed against his suit jacket. "I don't know," she said, and her eyes told him she was being completely honest with him. "But we have to look at every possibility."

Reality descended upon them instantly as the rustling of footsteps invaded their moment. Samantha jumped up from her seat at the table, and Martin instantly missed the sensation that her gentle touch had brought.

"Hey, Samantha!" Whoever had entered the break room had brought several pizza boxes along with him, and he immediately placed them down on the countertop beside the refrigerator.

"Hey, Marcus," Samantha replied. "How did the big tournament go?"

"Day one was a success. This -" he motioned to the five boxes he had set side by side, "- is what's left of the team victory party. I talked to Viv, who said you guys hadn't eaten yet, so I figured I would bring this by before Danny starts getting cranky."

Samantha laughed, "Well, Danny's still out in the field, but I'm sure he'll appreciate it when he gets back."

"I'm going to go find where Reggie went to, and hopefully somewhere along the way, locate my wife. Any ideas?"

"I'd try the tech room, she was going over security footage."

"Thanks," and Marcus turned, once again leaving Martin and Samantha alone.

Martin turned to the counter to see Samantha open one of the boxes and pick up a slice. "You don't mind if I eat, do you?"

He shook his head and tried to deny that he was interested in what kind of pizza she ate. Green peppers, he observed. Unusual.

She sat back down at the table across from him, taking a few bites before wiping her hands on a paper towel and flipping through the file folder she'd set to one side. She took out a photograph and placed it on the table in front of him.

"Have you ever seen this woman before?"

He studied the picture carefully. The woman looked to be in her early twenties, she had dirty blonde hair and dark eyes, and he noticed a small scar that ran along her left forehead just above her eyebrow. He was certain that he had never seen her before, and he finally replied. "No, I haven't. Is this Heather Meekins?"

"Well, yes and no. As far as we can find, 'Heather Meekins' simply appeared out of nowhere about two months ago."

"But she's definitely the person who left the hospital with the girls?" He didn't know what this meant for the case, but he was sure it didn't make things any easier.

"We're working on trying to figure out who 'Heather Meekins' really is and what connection she has with your family, but we also have to consider the possibility that this is just for the ransom." Her voice trailed off, and he found her eyes now directly on his. "We're prepared for either possibility."

He found her voice calm and reassuring, and he wanted - more than anything - to believe her.

His own voice, however, came no louder than a whisper as he answered.

"If anything happens to them because of me -- because of what I do -- I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive myself."

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