A/N - i still dont own anything but what you don't recognize.
ok, this is actually chapter three. i accidently said the last chapter was. it's not. sorry!
Three: Call
"Miss Allen? Miss Allen! Kathleen!" Sam screeched into the phone, pulling it away from her ear and staring at it like it was a viper. She threw it into the cradle, snatching up the paper with the information from Kathleen on it, and flew to the door.
Jennie intercepted her, grabbing her arm viciously.
"What the hell was that?"
"A woman called, she needed help – she sounded desperate!"
"We're detectives, Miss Manson, not bodyguards."
Sam practically snarled at her. "You have anything else better to do? Fine! But I'm going!"
She jerked her arm from Jennie's hold and sprinted to the elevator. She punched a button and waited, practically bouncing in worry for it to come. The doors slid open and she was about to press the first floor button when two figures rounded the corner.
"Samantha!" Jennie called. "Wait for us!"
Sam held the door while Jennie and the man she knew was Mick Ruddy entered the elevator before pressing the button. Once again as the elevator moved she willed it to speed up. She hated how slow elevators all were.
They went into the garage to get Mick's car, and they sped off to 45 Lake House.
Sam knocked on the door cautiously, yet briskly. She did not know what to expect behind the door. When nobody answered, she knocked again.
Nothing.
She swallowed. Where was Kathleen? What happened to her? Was she alright?
"What now?" Mick asked. Sam had briefed them on the frantic phone call in the car on the way there. They had both sounded very concerned for the woman.
"I guess we go back to our center and check out Kathleen Allen, this apartment – and whoever might want to hurt her. Why she called the FBI instead of the police."
They both nodded.
When they arrived back in their office, the other three members of the team greeted them with puzzlement and a tinge of excitement. If Mr Daniel Fenton, whom Sam had encountered in the Common Room, was to be trusted, this was the first case their team had handled in a while.
"Plan of action?" Jake asked. The five of them seemed to turn to her. She was a little taken aback, but her military experience certainly qualified her to take charge.
"Okay," she began, putting her hands behind her back, as she was used to doing whilst giving orders. "We need to find out everything we can. Jennie and Mick, I need you to find everything on Kathleen Allen, Jake and Alex you research that apartment, who lived there, who owns it, is it rented out, how expensive and old it is et cetera." The four scuttled to their computers.
Sam turned to the other man. "Keith, you and I are going to try to get a warrant to search that apartment. Can you get the tape of my conversation, and I'll go speak to the men upstairs." Keith nodded, lollipop stick bobbing, and hurtled over to her desk, with her hot on his trail.
They returned victoriously half an hour later, with a warrant, and Keith tossing the tiny cassette around in his hands. He dropped it clumsily on the ground the moment the pair entered the room, and Sam rolled her eyes at him.
"We got it," she announced to the four people in the room, finding them still hard at work. She walked over to Jennie's cubicle where the other woman and Mick sat, staring at the screen.
"Got anything?"
"Yeah." Mick said, clicking on a minimized Word document. It was titled 'Kathleen Michelle Allen', and about five pages of information ensued.
"Whoa." Sam said, eyes widening. "Got anything important?"
"How about this?" Mick asked, rolling the cursor over a paragraph. "She's the daughter of a judge. Judge Anthony Allen."
"Okay," Sam said, hoping he was going somewhere with this.
"But wait, there's more."
"Good."
"Six years ago Judge Allen presided over the case of a one Cory Tanner, thrice accused rapist and suspected murderer. Tanner was given twenty years, but – get this – escaped last month. I already checked it out."
"What!" Sam gasped, incredulous. "How the hell did he break out of prison?"
"During confession, the guy was some sort of bodybuilder, gymnast, person, I'm not quite sure. But he escaped – killing a priest and two prison guards on the way, I might add."
"Wow." Sam said, her shoulders slumping. "So, what happened to Judge Allen?"
"He was in a car crash with Miss Allen's mother two years ago."
"God," Sam said, rubbing her arm. She tried to get inside this man's head, knowing that that was the best way to deal with criminals. "So this guy sits in prison, getting more and more bitter, and then he finally breaks out of prison, wanting to get revenge on the guy who put him in there..."
Jennie continued. "He finds out the guy's already dead. He's furious, so he goes for the only person left he can..."
"Our Miss Kathleen Allen, daughter of his sworn enemy." Mick finished dramatically.
"Damn," Jennie breathed.
"Okay, so we have a suspect. A good suspect. But we still need to find out what happened to Kathleen."
Sam stood up straight and went over to Jake and Alex.
"Any luck?"
"Well, the apartment is rented out by a Mary Corr, who lives in the apartment next door. Miss Allen has lived in the apartment for four years now, alone."
"Sounds good. Let's go."
Sam, Jennie and Mick set off once more for Lake House. Mick parked the car and the three of them entered the building, going for number 46 this time, which was also on the fourth floor.
Sam knocked on the door and after a little while, a woman wearing a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants opened it wide.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Samantha Manson, and these are Jennifer Douglas and Michael Ruddy, we work for the FBI." The three of them showed her their badges.
"Um, alright," Mary Corr said, looking taken aback. "What do you want with me?"
"Actually, we need to get into the apartment next door – number 45?"
"Why?"
"We have reason to believe that the occupant has come to harm."
"Kathy?"
"Kathleen Allen."
The woman looked a little worried. "Yes, yesterday I heard some strange noises coming from there earlier."
"What kind?"
"Bumping, and some yelling. I thought it was, a, uh, male, uh, visitor." She eyed Sam until she got the idea. Her violet eyes widened.
"Oh, I see. Does Miss Allen entertain, uh, visitors, often?"
"Yeah, pretty often. But then I heard a scream of, well it sounded a bit like, fear. It was Kathy. I didn't really think much of it though. I hear all kinds of things from that apartment."
"I see. So, you didn't see anyone leave, or enter?"
"Well, no, I didn't go check it out. I wouldn't know if anyone left or went in."
"Okay, thank you Miss Corr. Could we possibly have a key?"
"Sure, one second."
She scuttled into her apartment, and the trio heard some jingling. She reappeared in a moment with a small silver key.
"There you go. Good luck."
"Thank you for the key - and for the help."
Mary closed the door softly as they moved to the next door and inserted the key. Mick pushed the door open warily and peered around. Sam assumed he did not see anything immediately dangerous as he opened the door the rest of the way and walked in ahead of them.
They scoured the apartment, and found nothing much until they entered the bedroom. It was ransacked. Everything was strewn everywhere, the bed was broken, the cupboard smashed in.
Blood was smeared across one of the walls. Jennie shrieked at the sight, and even Sam had to restrain a shudder. Mick gawked at it as Sam moved further into the room. There were definite signs of a struggle – mussed clothes, the rug on the floor was in an unusual place by the bed and one side was folded over. There was a clump of hair on the floor. Sam crouched beside it. It was blonde, and long. It was frayed at the ends, as if it had been torn right from someone's head. Sam cringed at the idea.
She stood up slowly and picked her way over to the cupboard. The door had been ripped off its hinges, and also looked as though someone had been kicking through the panels. Sam bent down to peer inside. There was a cordless phone lying in with the clothes that had fallen from their hangers when the bar had been ripped from its mooring, along with a short, sharp, bloodied kitchen knife. Sam was getting a picture in her head of what had been happening when she had been called.
"We need a forensics team." Sam turned to the other two, still immobile and staring at the blood on the wall.
Suddenly the phone rang. The three of them glanced at each other. Sam was the first to shift, moving out of the room, painstakingly careful not to disturb anything.
The phone rang again. She entered the living room. The phone was lying on the table – it matched the one in the cupboard, that she did not really want to disturb.
Sam glanced around, then went and grabbed a kitchen towel from the rack in the next room. The phone rang once more. Sam wrapped the cloth over her hand and gripped the phone as it rang again. She pressed the green button and held it to her ear, careful not to let it actually touch her skin.
"Hello?"
"Is this the police?"
Sam frowned. "Uh, no – that's 911."
"Don't try and be funny. Are you here for Kathleen Allen?"
"Yes."
"I figured someone would be showing up there, when I caught that bitch with the phone."
Sam felt ill. This was the attacker. She summoned all her strength to continue.
"So who are you?" he demanded.
"FBI."
Sam heard a growled curse from the man. "She'll pay for this."
"I know it's you, Cory."
The man sounded taken aback. "H-how did you know?"
"Federal Bureau of Investigation, Mr Tanner. I'm a detective."
"And far too clever for your own good."
"Am I supposed to be afraid? You don't even know my name."
He chuckled. The sound slithered up her spine and she could not suppress a shiver.
"No, not now. But you wait missy. You wait."
She swallowed, feeling her bravado slipping away. She called it back with everything inside her. She could not let him know of her terror.
"What do you want Mr Tanner?"
"Please, my dear, call me Cory."
"Are you going to kill her, Mr Tanner?"
He tusked her patronizingly. "Being a little forward are we? Feathers ruffled? Scared, perhaps?"
"Not likely."
"You tell yourself that."
She began to feel anger swell in her but managed to keep it from her voice.
"You didn't answer my question."
"No, no I didn't." He paused. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
She realized the answer just before he voiced it.
"Yes, I am going to kill her. But don't you worry; you won't feel guilty for letting me get away with it."
"And how can you be so sure?"
Once more, her mind spoke the answer as he did.
"Because I am going to kill you, my dear."
ooo a threat...and something's happening!!! please review and i will update sooner!!!!
FunkyFish1991 xXx