xxx

chapter four

xxx

i knew you wanted to tell me
in your voice there was something wrong
but if you would turn your face away from me
you cannot tell me you're so strong


just let me ask of you one small thing
as we have shared so many tears
with fervor our dreams we planned a whole life long
now are scattered on the wind
-Sarah McLachlan, "Path of Thorns (Terms)"

xxx

Martin felt a dull ache settle across his chest as he began to weave in and out of city traffic. Though his eyes did not shift their focus from the road in front of him, he could sense Sam's quiet, nervous energy from the passenger's seat.

Something had happened in Kenosha, something that she and Jack were keeping secret. Their stories had been far too vague and nondescript; if nothing had happened, they would be far more forthcoming. It was no longer any of his business -- not anymore, but he still hoped Sam knew she could come to him as a friend. Their friendship on the whole had been virtually nonexistent since they had broken up, give or take a few isolated instances, but he genuinely did miss it. It was the main reason he had broken up with her in the first place; their relationship became warped and problematic once they allowed sex to complicate things.

But two years had passed, and his sponsor was urging him to rebuild and repair that friendship. That was the trouble of having an ex-cop as your sponsor; Ed was always stressing the importance of mending relationships with his teammates, given the way that cops and agents were constantly putting their lives at risk every time they go out in the field. Once Ed learned of his history with Sam, he seemed particularly intent on Martin repairing the friendship. And although it had taken him time to be prepared to do so, Martin hoped that he was ready. Most people probably would not be able to tell, but he knew her better than that. Sam looked like she could use a friend.

"Hey --" Sam interrupted his train of thought, her tone of voice urgent. "Aren't we supposed to turn right up here?" She motioned with one hand at the two lanes of traffic that he would have to cross. Damn it.

He gave a small laugh and turned on his blinker, craning his neck to check his blind spot as he started to change lanes. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that."

"If you're not interested in the road, I can drive..." she teased.

"I don't think so," he smiled, shaking his head. "It would probably be in Natalie Burris' best interests if we show up for this interview in one piece."

"Speaking of Natalie Burris," Sam continued. "Care to fill me in on anything that I missed?"

"Oh, sure. Of course!" In his anxiousness to leave the second they had caught a break in the case, he had forgotten that she had missed quite a few developments while she had been on her way back from Wisconsin. It looked as though they had almost arrived at Tylman's apartment building, and he really did need to bring her up to speed. "The biggest break we had was what her brother told me this morning. According to Lenny, the reason that Natalie broke up with Chris was that she had a new boyfriend."

"A new boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Natalie didn't say anything about it, but Lenny said he knew by the way she would get dressed up before she went out," Martin explained.

"Younger siblings always do know more than they let on," Sam quipped.

As he was focused on avoiding another near-miss with the directions, he could not get a good enough read on her expression to discern the layered meaning of Sam's comment, but he had a feeling it had to do more with Emily and less with Natalie and Lenny Burris. "We never get enough credit, but we always do," Martin retorted. "Lenny heard Natalie talking to the new boyfriend on the phone after school on Thursday, when she should have been at her SAT prep class. I matched that to the number on her cell phone records; it was a pay phone by a gas station in Queens. A very conveniently placed traffic camera and security footage from the gas station did the rest, and that's where I found Edward Freeman's name."

"Does Freeman have any priors?"

"Just domestic violence, but he's been on the VCU radar for the past couple of months because of his association with Tylman, who's been a suspect in a couple of cases over the past eighteen months but no one has ever been able to get any hard evidence to hold up in court."

"Oh, great." Sam said, and he could practically see her eyes roll. He had to admit, he could see where she was coming from. This did not bode well for sixteen year old Natalie Burris, who got off the bus in front of her high school five days ago but did not report to first period. Prior to talking to Lenny that morning, the only real break they had gotten was when one of Natalie's classmates who had been running late that morning came forward saying that she had seen a suspicious man lurking around the school grounds when she had arrived that morning.

"Speaking of --" Martin said, eyes scanning the street ahead for parking spaces. "We're here."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam raise her head to take in the run down apartment building that was their destination.

Martin maneuvered into the first available parking space, hopping out of the car and swatting the door shut. In spite of the chill of the breeze, the sun glared brightly and he hid his eyes behind dark lenses until they were inside. Finding the building without a doorman, they easily made their way up the stairwell to the third floor.

The third floor hallway was eerily dark and damp, causing Martin to hug his coat closer to his body. They stopped in front of the door labeled '306,' and Sam flicked her wrist as she rapped against the faded red paint.

"Allan Tylman!" She called. "Open up!"

No response.

"Mr. Tylman!" He echoed forcefully, but with the same results.

"Mr. Tylman isn't here right now," a small voice carried down the hallway. Martin turned to see a young girl of about eight or nine lugging a large basket of laundry from the stairwell to apartment '305' just across the hall.

He felt Sam leave his side and rush to help the girl with the basket, which was clearly too large for the young child to carry on her own.

"Here, let me help you," Sam hoisted the basket onto her hip, carrying it with ease. "What's your name?"

"I'm Melanie," the girl replied.

"I'm Sam, and this is Martin," Sam explained. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Mr. Tylman if that's okay with you."

Melanie nodded. Now that she was closer, Martin could make out her features in the dimly lit hallway. At this distance, her features appeared to make her closer to ten or eleven years old in spite of her small stature. She had wispy blonde hair and green eyes and, although she generally looked healthy, Martin noted that something seemed inherently 'off' with this small girl, although he attributed that to the fact that she ought to be in school at the moment.

"Do you know where Mr. Tylman is right now?" Sam asked.

Melanie shook her head quickly. "No. He hasn't been home in a couple of days."

"Do you remember when you last saw him?" Martin prompted carefully.

"On Thursday, in the morning. I think he was going away; he had a suitcase with him..."

Melanie buttoned up her sweater and closed the door quietly. She turned her key in the lock and readjusted her backpack, when the door across the hall opened.

"Hi, Melody." The dark-eyed, dark-haired form of Allan Tylman appeared in the doorframe pulling a large black suitcase behind him.

"It's Melanie," she glared insistently. Mr. Tylman seemed to think this was funny; he always did.

"Right, of course Melody." Mr. Tylman sneered.

Melanie snorted her disapproval and started walking down the hallway, Mr. Tylman following close behind.

When she reached the door to the stairwell, she flung it open in his face and took off down the stairs as fast as she could.

As she jumped, skipping the final two steps at the bottom of the stairwell, she could still hear the steady repeated 'thud, thud' of Mr. Tylman's suitcase hitting each step.

She ran through the foyer and out onto the sidewalk before he could have a chance to catch up.

"Does he go away a lot?" Sam continued, as Melanie finished her story.

"I guess so, he works on a boat."

Martin knew that there was no record of Tylman ever holding a job on a boat; his last listed employment on record was waiting tables at a bar over four years ago. "Do you know what boat he works on?" Martin inquired cautiously, not wanting to push his luck and make Melanie feel uncomfortable. This was as close as they had gotten to answers on Natalie Burris in the five days since she had gone missing.

"No, he never said. But he always comes home dirty and mom says he smells like the ocean."

He exchanged a meaningful glance with Sam, who seemed equally aware of the way the timeline fit with Natalie's disappearance and the clues that Melanie had unconsciously given them.

"Does your mom say anything else about Mr. Tylman?" Sam asked.

"No." Melanie said quickly.

"Do you think we could talk to your mom?" Sam pressed further. "We'd love to ask her a few questions too."

Yeah, Martin thought. For starters, why is your daughter not in school on a Monday morning?

"I don't think so," Melanie said insistently. "My mom's not feeling well right now."

Melanie's replies came out so quickly and methodically, Martin was certain this was not the first time she was making these excuses.

"I can take this," Melanie said, pulling the laundry basket from Sam's grasp. "I need to go."

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Sam, and they watched the small girl struggle with the basket as she disappeared behind the door marked '305.'

He waited for Sam to start moving back down the hallway before turning to follow suit.

Once back outside, Martin welcomed the near-blinding sunlight, anxious to rid himself of the chills that had taken over his body.

"So," Sam raised her eyes to meet his, raising a hand to her face to shade herself from the sun. "Do you want to call Child Protective Services, or should I?"

"You call CPS, I'll fill Jack in?" He suggested, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

He dialed his boss' familiar number and waited to hear the gruff response on the other end of the line.

"Yeah -" Jack answered.

"Hey Jack, it's me. Tylman wasn't home, but his neighbor's kid said he left early last Thursday morning and hasn't been home since. The girl seemed to be under an impression that Tylman works on a boat..."

"Well that's interesting," Jack replied suggestively. "Because Danny did some background research and it seems that Tylman has been a frequent visitor at a motel that Edward Freeman's cousin runs, about forty miles outside the city. If I were a betting man, I'd say that it probably isn't too far away from the shoreline..." Jack paused momentarily, releasing an audible sigh. "I'll give local PD a call and get coast guard on the alert."

"Great," Martin nodded to no one in particular. "Get me the address, and Sam and I will be on our way as soon as she's done talking to CPS."

"What?" Jack asked incredulously.

"Yeah. The neighbor's kid definitely should have been in school, something was funny about her excuses. We just wanted to get someone to check up on the situation," Martin explained.

"No, no," Jack's voice was now heavy with irritation. "What is Sam doing with you?"

Martin felt his eyebrows cross. He worked with Sam all of the time; this was not something unusual. "She came with me to interview Tylman," he said. "Do you need her back at the office?"

"No, OPR has officially given her the all clear to be back in the field as of twenty minutes ago, so that's fine. But she had told me she was going to take a couple of days off."

Martin shrugged his shoulders. "I guess not, then."

Jack sighed again. "Does she seem okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Martin replied, reminding Jack to call back with the motel address and the rest of the details before hitting the 'end call' key and closing his phone.

A few feet away, he heard Sam rattle off details to Child Protective Services just like it was any other day, while he was left to wonder about Jack's cryptic questioning.

"You ready?" Sam mouthed silently as she waited for the person on the other end of the line. Saying her goodbyes, she snapped her own phone shut and placed it back in her pocket.

He nodded, climbing back into the driver's seat of the car. And as he turned the key in the ignition, he once again reminded himself that he no longer cared about Sam's secrets -- while at the same time, trying to forget that he was one of them.

xxx