The house reminded him of one he'd seen in a horror movie once. This house was built with wood, old wood and had a tin roof over the top. It vaguely reminded him of some of the house he'd gone to for work in previous cases, like the house of the alligator hunter and the man who made scents to attract bears. It was only one story and both the front windows and one of the side windows had been boarded up and closed. The front deck was old and there were boards missing from the floor and one step was gone. Ryan pulled his Hummer up to it and park next to the old truck.
He climbed out, letting his Italian shoes hit soil of the everglades. He couldn't believe this was the house. He looked strangely out of place in his dress shirt and tie. He sighed angrily and climbed the steps (missing the broken one) up the screen door. Obviously there was going to be a large hole in it, but he sighed anyway, realizing this is the last place he'd be wanting to do this, right now. He knocked on the door and waited for an answer.
A Brazilian man answered the door by cracking it open slightly. He poked his short black haired head around the corner and looked at Ryan with his beady little brown eyes. He took in Ryan's appearance and opened the door wider, exposing his lack of shirt and his cut off shorts.
"You're late," he said in his little accent. Ryan glared.
"I'm never on time with you people, am I?" he asked cynically. He man moved aisde to let him in.
The place was completely bare, expect for an old steel table and a few chairs. There was an old cloth couch pushed against one wall and the wooden door that attached to the bathroom was shut. Inside, Ryan was greeted by the sight of two more men, bigger this time and wearing shirts, standing by the table where a man sat in shadow.
"Always so cynical, Ryan," came the voice of the man in shadow.
"Well, you're always so dramatic," he replied, stepping up the table and into the light. Still the man remained in shadow. He could see his shoulders move in a silent laugh. Ryan shifted, feeling under comfortable.
"Do you know why we called you?" the man asked.
"I suppose it's because you need something," he answered, "You don't just call to say hello anymore."
"Do you miss those kind of calls, Ryan?" the shadow man asked in a cold and irritated tone.
"Nope," he answered calmly.
"Good," the man answered, "We called you because you owe us a favor still."
"I've paid off my debts," Ran answered defensively.
"Not to me," the man answered angrily. He saw him stand, "You're in for life Ryan. You're debts are great. You know what we do to criminals like you? You disappear and never come back. But I thought you were different, I saved you."
"You saved her!" Ryan answered, "You saved her! But you let her die!"
"You made the choice," he answered nonchalantly.
"You forced me to pick! I would have died for both of them."
"That still can be arranged," the man answered. Ryan shifted his weight angrily and crossed his arms. The man sat still in the shadows.
"What is it you want?" he asked in a defeated tone. A file slid across the table.
"It's not a what, but rather a who," the man answered. Ryan opened the file and stared at the picture.
He kept his face composed and cool for the man. He didn't want to give away what he knew. The face he stared at was a face he knew too well.
"What could she be of any use to you?" he asked. He could have sworn he saw the shadow man smile.
"That is only for me to know," he answered, "Now, can you bring her to me?"
Ryan remained quiet. He didn't want to give him an answer.
"Ryan?" the man asked, "Can you do that."
"Yes," he growled out angrily, "But after this, I'm done. We're done-the deal is done. I want her back after this, you can't keep her from me forever."
"And if I don't," the man asked angrily, "You'll what, Ryan? You'll send in your cop friends to get me and forcefully get her back? I don't think so, because that would drag you into the light and trust me, with all that you've done, I doubt you want them to know anything about what happened here."
"I just want my daughter back!" Ryan roared, pounding his fist onto the table.
The man stood up and moved around to stare at Ryan. He had come out into the light and Ryan saw the man's hard face, steely blue eyes and his set jaw. He wore all black, dressed completely to the nines in it and he towered over Ryan in height and in muscle. His eyes were wicked and he had an angry scowl on his face.
"You want to see your daughter alive or dead?" he asked Ryan, staring into his eyes in a trick to intimidate him. Ryan wouldn't fall for it.
"You have her, I know you do. You know where she is, I want her back, alive."
"And what if I said that she doesn't want to see you again, not after what's happened?" the man asked.
"She's my daughter," Ryan said slowly, pausing after each word.
"She's a stubborn one, I'll tell you that," he answered wickedly, "But after what I've told her about dear ol daddy I doubt she'll ever want to see your face again."
"Let her go!" Ryan said in frustration. The man chuckled and smiled.
"Boys, please escort Ryan to his car."
The men behind him moved forward, grabbing Ryan by the upper arms. Ryan reacted defensively and pulled against them. One of the men right hooked Ryan in the jaw, causing him to stumble before hitting back. The other man attempted to hold him back, only to get elbowed in the gut. Ryan got of a few good punches and took a few before he heard the click of a gun behind his ear.
"Enough,' said the man in black, "Have a good day, Ryan."
Ryan turned and faced the man and glared at him. He smiled wickedly and held out the folder to him.
"Don't forget this," he said, "It's important to you, and to me."
Ryan grasped it and headed toward the door. He didn't want to do this; he couldn't do this. He stared down at the file as he made his way to the car. He opened the Hummer's door and climbed in before opening the file. There was the picture.
It was the woman that cooked him pancakes this morning.
It was the woman he kept secret from his work.
It was the woman who was the real mother of his daughter.
She was Alice.