11:50 PM

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Detective Maddox cut the engine and squinted down the long, winding road. Sam craned her neck over his head to see, and Gina over her. They stumbled from the car.

"This is it," he muttered, rubbing his balding head in contemplation. "It must be. See those tire tracks?"

"Yes."

He held out a photograph for her to see, and shined his flashlight over it. "They match these. The ones made outside of the Reisert girl's house in Miami. And since we've connected that girl with your daughter's kidnapper--"

"I understand," Mr. Redford pushed the light away, anxious to get moving. "Can we move in yet? I want to save my daughter!"

"Now, don't get your hopes up," Maddox held up a cautious palm, speaking calmly. "There's a good chance that they've already hightailed it out of here after Rocher's confrontation with Mr. Nolan."

"But maybe not!"

"Yes," the detective repeated disbelievingly. "Maybe not."

Two additional squad cars pulled in behind the three already parked and several officers stepped out, waiting for direction.

"Get back in," Maddox muttered. "We're going to attempt to sneak up on them. If their little mafia here is as secretive as they'd like it to be, there'll be hidden cameras. However, since we have the advantage of surprise and the cover of the night on our side, we do have a chance that the cameras might not spot us."

"Why don't we just walk in?" Chris piped in. "Wouldn't it be less obvious without the patrol cars?"

"First of all," Mr. Redford opened the car door for his son and pointed. "You, your mother, and Gina aren't going anywhere. You're staying here."

"But Da--"

"There'll be plenty enough action if we find Rachel," Detective Maddox agreed solemnly. "Don't worry, son. These are dangerous people we're dealing with, here. They nearly killed your uncle, and we wouldn't want the same to happen to you."

He sighed as Sam began to speak. "I'm going with you, Detective. I'm Rachel's mother, and I refuse to sit by while you people play the Batman."

Her husband stared intently at her, his eyes pleading silently. "Please, Sammy. Please. Just do this for Rachel, all right? She wouldn't want you hurt on her behalf, trust me."

"She wouldn't want you hurt, either."

"But I'm--"

"But you're the man," Sam snapped, the condescension in her voice identical to the expression on her oldest daughter's face. "Fine. I'll stay here. But if you let anything happen to my--"

"Sam, I think you keep forgetting that she's my daughter, too," Mr. Redford replied, a bit of hurt echoing in his voice. Sam and her children slunk off to the car in the darkness.

"Okay, then," Detective Maddox radioed into the other officers, and they prepared to take four loaded squad cars down the trail.

11:55 PM

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Rachel couldn't shake the feeling of disquiet that suddenly rattled her head. She frowned and emptied the rest of her wine glass in the sink.

"Rach?" Alex patted the floor next to him, his face lined with worry. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," she murmured. "I think I might go freshen up real quickly before midnight. Is that okay?"

He checked his watch. "You sure? You might miss it."

"It's not New Years, Alex," Rachel forced a laugh and pushed past Lisa's sleeping form on the couch to make her way to the bathroom.

She undressed and wondered if it was the champagne that was getting to her. She doubted it. With her aunt and uncle, she'd been known to drink a whole glass before it even began to affect her. She held her alcohol well for her size, and for some reason, the sickness that suddenly pressed hard on her esophagus wasn't one of physical means. Something was bothering her, and she hated not knowing what it was.

Rachel twisted the knob in the shower to hot, and stepped inside. She waited for the pressure in her chest to fade, but it remained, a constant reminder of her anguish. What's going on with me? I'm happy. You're happy, Rachel Redford, you're happy now. She began to lather shampoo into her hair, kneading her scalp with her fingertips and wondering what could possibly be going wrong now.

11:57 PM

Sunday, December 24, 2006

"Shit," Jackson sat up suddenly from the couch. Lisa groaned and stirred in his lap, but as he slid out from beneath her she drifted back to sleep.

Alex yawned on the floor. "What is it?" He was beginning to worry about Rachel. She was showering again. He was concerned that her excessive bathing was a method of relieving stress. She had nothing to stress over.

The obnoxious mechanical beeping coming from Jackson's watch clicked an invisible signal in his brain and he bolted to his feet. "Shit!"

Jackson ran to his laptop and plugged it into the wall, his fingers like lightning on the keyboard as he pulled up the security system. Sure enough, not one, not two, but four police cars were pulling up in front of the complex.

"Are we the only ones home tonight?" Alex questioned gravely, running for his laptop bag. "Everybody else is on assignment, right?"

"Yeah," Jackson grabbed his jacket and quickly yanked it on as they heard the doors being broken down in the lobby. "Hurry up."

"Rachel!" Alex ran for the bathroom, but Jackson grabbed his arm.

"No!" Jackson hissed, pulling him for the door. "You have your files, we need to leave, now." He attempted to rouse Lisa on the couch. She didn't budge.

"I can't leave her!" the sound of footsteps on the stairs caused Alex's brain to whir in anxiety. This isn't happening. I can't choose. My freedom—or Rachel? "I promised, Jackson, I promised that I wouldn't--"

"They will kill you, Alex," Jackson snapped finally. "If we stay here, you're dead. You're a kidnapper, a murderer, and as far as they know, a rapist. We need to leave. She'll be fine."

Alex battled with his masculinity as tears threatened. "No, I--"

Jackson made his way for the hidden staircase in the coat closet. "I'm leaving." Lisa didn't move on the couch.

"What about Lisa?" he called out. Jackson turned back, his face contorted slightly in regret. He braced himself as he gripped the stair railing tightly.

"There's not enough time."

Alex glanced back once more at Lisa, placidly asleep, and as he followed Jackson down the stairs, the bathroom door, behind which was Rachel. Unaware of his betrayal, of his lament.

"I'm sorry," he murmured one last time before running down the stairs.

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11:58 PM

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Rachel grabbed a towel from the rack adjacent to her and dried her hair, then her body. She stepped into a fresh pair of pajamas, still feeling apprehensive but a bit more revived. Hearing a thud from the main room, she frowned before laughing at her reflection in the mirror.

"Stop worrying so much," she scolded herself.

Rachel dragged a comb through her sopping hair before unlocking the door and stepping back into the living room.

"Don't move or we'll shoot!"

Rachel cried out in shock and collapsed to the floor as officers swarmed her.

"Rachel!"

She looked up. Her father darted to her, crushing her in his arms and sheltering her from the police.

Rachel was confused as to what exactly was happening. "Where's Alex?" she cried without meaning to. "Is he still alive?"

"He's gone, baby."

His words crushed her like a thousand-pound fist, and she trembled. "Wh-what?"

"He left. He's gone."

Rachel's head spun, her brain involuntarily conjuring images of Alex Reisert. "N-no…"

Everything around her was a blur. A stranger in a suit cuffed Lisa as she groggily lept from the couch. "Lisa Reisert, you are under arrest for the conspiracy and murder of…"

"Alex," Rachel whispered one more time, forgetting everything else as the clock chimed midnight and she collapsed into her father's arms.