It was his first real stake out, and he had quickly learned that patience was a virtue he did not come by naturally. Fortunately for him he was good at pretending, which meant that he'd pretended he'd enjoyed the last three days he'd spent hidden in the woods rather successfully. Well, mostly successfully. Point being that he'd been there for three consecutive days and he'd learned some things that had him convinced that he was at least barking up the right tree.
One of his key problems being that he had no proof or reason to think that Lewis was in Denman's research facility. What she could possibly have interest in him for Zane had no idea, unless it was to glean more information on mermaids which, admittedly, Lewis probably knew the most about. The main problem with that theory was that that was not enough of a reason to kidnap the guy.
Zane refused to believe that Lewis would help Denman of his own accord, no matter what state his friendship was with the girls. He wasn't that kind of a person.
So in the last three days Zane had watched, taken photos, marked the time of peoples arrival and departure (erratic), which vehicles they drove, names that people called out in greeting, security presence, video surveillance, evening lock down procedures and anything else that he thought might be relevant (or at least interesting).
A few of the men had looked familiar, but other then Denman herself Zane didn't know who anyone was. One woman had caught his attention though, and he watched her carefully now as she stepped out of her vehicle in the isolated labs parking lot. She hesitated after she closed the door, the same way she had the three mornings before this day, before she seemed to gather her wits and square her shoulders. She smiled and called out a greeting to "Doc," and Zane could admit she was good because there was no hesitancy at all in her interactions and her smile looked real enough. But on his first day of surveillance he had watched her leave the building and head to her car with a determinedly steady step, and he had seen the few tears escape just as she unlocked her door. He had proof of her unhappiness in his photos.
She was good at pretending around the people she worked with, but apparently not with herself. He just wanted to know what made her so sad. Of all the people who worked here, she was the only one that he thought he might have a chance at approaching.
She paused at the doorway, giving a nod to Doc as he went inside and stopped to finish her cigarette. She took her time, exhaling slowly, as if to draw out the experience. He got the impression she was stalling.
His cell phone chose that moment to ring, loudly, and he just bit off a curse as he scrambled to silence it, and then looked quickly back to her. She was frowning in his general direction, but even as he focused on her again she was shaking her head at herself and crushing her smoke into the gravel.
He breathed a sigh of relief as she went inside, leaving the parking lot barren, and glanced down at his silently ringing phone. Firth.
Shit. He couldn't really miss that call.
He flipped it open, taking one more look around the empty parking lot before carefully stepping even further into the bushes.
"Bennet" he hissed quietly into the phone, not seeing a reason to give his position away to the people he was spying on. There was a pause on the other end of the line (he'd been getting that a lot these last few days), before the detective greeted him.
"It's Firth," he introduced. "I think I may have found something of interest about McCartney."
"Really?" Zane couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. He'd been sure his 'case' had been pawned off on the detective just to make him think someone was working on it. He hadn't expected the man to truly investigate. His respect for him raised a couple notches. "What did you find?"
"Is there a reason you're whispering?" Zane smirked at the question and contemplated telling the guy that he was in the middle of a stakeout, which would probably be classified as 'stalking' to anyone who wasn't in law enforcement. He didn't think Firth would be too impressed with hearing about it though.
"Late night with some friends: crashed in their apartment. People are still asleep on the floor and I don't want to wake them."
"How considerate of you," Firth responded dryly. Dry enough, in fact, to indicate that he didn't believe Zane, but thankfully he didn't press the issue. "I looked into the Marina you mentioned and pulled the entrance ways surveillance tapes for the night you said you thought Lewis disappeared on." Zane had tried to do that, but the managers had laughed at him and politely told him to screw off. Apparently they felt differently when a cop asked to see them.
"And he was on them?" Zane stopped his careful walk through the dense foliage and tensed as he waited for an answer.
"He was. He had two trunks with him, dragged 'em right out onto the dock. I couldn't see anything past the main entrance to the marina, but I watched the entire film until the next evening and he never left. At least not the way he came. I dug a little deeper and found that four boats departed between that evening and the following morning. One of them belongs to a Dr. Denman. If Lewis's work history is correct then he used to work for Denman."
"He did, for a short time." Zane confirmed.
"Is it possible he picked up with her again? Decided to put off going to Uni for a while longer to gain some experience in the working world?"
Not a chance in hell, Zane thought ruthlessly.
"Anything's possible I suppose," he allowed instead, suddenly weary of giving too much away. Hearing that Lewis went to the dock wasn't a big surprise; Zane knew his friend had been trying to warn-off/mislead Denman away from the girls, even if he never came out and admitted it to them. Hearing that he hadn't left the dock…that was suspicious.
"You don't sound overly concerned about that."
"They didn't part on the best of terms" he admitted.
"You know…Denman has a research facility just south of Wadesville. A fairly expansive one if I'm correct." Firth intoned, and Zane's stomach did a weird little flip-flop. "Weren't you headed up there the other day? Family business I believe you said."
"No, I never made it out to them. Either way they live in Wyndham, not Wadesville."
"My mistake." Detective Firth paused a moment. "Keep me updated on anything you might find."
"Will do. And… Thank you, for helping me."
"It's what I do," he paused a moment, as though hesitant to say anything more. "Take care of yourself Zane. Be careful."
"Always am." He snapped the phone shut, just as he heard a shout and then a large racket coming from Denman's. He swore and ran back the way he came, which was difficult when trying to remain inconspicuous. Why the bloody heck did he walk so far into the bush?
It was coming from the other side of the building, leading out to the water and he couldn't see a damn thing.
"Would you tranq it already!" A man hollered, and even from over here Zane could tell that he was pissed. "Hold him!" Zane pushed himself faster through the bush, and then had to slow when it became much sparser, not leaving anywhere for him to properly hide. The dolphins were acting up in their pen, he could just see them splashing around and their clicks and whistles were unmistakable. He dropped down to his stomach and crawled forward, careful to keep his camera safe and when he finally caught sight of a few clumped bodies he zoomed in and snapped a few pictures.
There wasn't much to see, the building mostly blocking them as they seemed to pick themselves up off the ground. They were only five meters from the waters edge.
"Get it back inside, and lock it down! You people do understand what that means right? The concept of keeping things properly contained?" The sarcasm was not lost on Zane, but nobody argued as they were disappearing quickly. He took a few more shots, but doubted he got anything useful.
"Calm down Gil," Denman herself made an appearance, appearing from around the corner, her attention divided between what the people were carrying back inside, and the practically livid man. They moved to the waters edge and stared at the dolphins, their volume returning to a normal level and, despite the still air, Zane could only pick up snatches of words: more careful; too close; teach lesson; stupid… he sighed in frustration and didn't dare move from his position behind a scraggly shrub. It was a few minutes before they finally went in as well, deserting the dock and the still agitated dolphins.
He was sweaty, hot, and now extremely dirty. The worst of it was that something big had happened, and he hadn't seen a damn thing.
This was getting him nowhere! He could lay out here in the trees for weeks and not learn anything more. Whatever had just happened sounded like a complete anomaly and someone was going to be paying the price for it no doubt.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
That's it, he was going back to the hotel for a shower and change of clothes. He'd take a closer look at the photos there, though he doubted they'd tell him anything.
Then he was going to have to come up with a different course of action.
-H2OOOO-
He had been right: the photos, once enlarged on his laptop, didn't tell him anything new.
Except that the thing that they had been lifting had had a hand. A limp hand that had sort of flopped into one photo like it was trying to tease him with its presence. Like the extra hand in The Last Supper.
It didn't tease him: it freaked him out.
As he followed Sarah's blue smart car down the darkening streets, rain pelting at his windows, he wondered if he was getting in over his head. He contemplated calling for help. He decided he needed more information first.
He waited until it was dark before parking down the street from her apartment building.
-H2OOOO-
She couldn't get her hands to stop shaking, and it had been like that since she'd stepped into the comfort of her apartment. She tried to blame the storm, because she had hated them ever since she was a child and one had blown a tree down on her family's garage, but that would have been lying.
She felt cold, despite the heat that had been baking the continent all day long, and a shower hadn't warmed her up at all. Normally she'd turn to watching ridiculous childhood movies for comfort, but her favourite had been The Little Mermaid and she wasn't sure if she could handle that one ever again. So instead she sat at her kitchen counter, a table lamp in the living room her only source of steady light, and watched the storm rage outside her windows hours after darkness had fallen.
She felt trapped.
A firm knock at her door startled her, cold tea spilling from the mug she had clutched in her hands and she swore as she grabbed for a cloth to wipe it up. The knock came again and she took a deep steadying breath before heading over and looking through her peep hole to see who could possibly be visiting her unannounced and after ten in the evening.
It was a young man, and she didn't recognize him. He was rocking back and forth on his feet, watching the door nervously and she contemplated pretending she wasn't home. Then he knocked again, a little louder, and she realized that he probably wasn't going to go away.
She turned on a main light and slid the door open as far as the chain would allow, peering out at him. He was wet, his hair flattened to his head and t-shirt and opened button-up darkened from the water. His nerves appeared steady as a rock as he looked at her carefully, no smile on his face in greeting, instead just a grimness that seemed out of place on someone so young.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes," his voice was sure and smooth. "I think you can Sarah." She stared wide eyed at him, her heart suddenly hammering in her chest because she knew she had never seen him before in her life.
"How do you know my name?"
"I've been watching you." Her eyes widened and she went to slam the door shut, but something jammed it and he was holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, his eyes wide. "No! That didn't come out right at all. I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you, I really don't, but I need your help, and I didn't know how else to approach you." She didn't know whether she should believe him or not, and over the last few months her trust in humanity had taken a nose dive. Her cell phone was still in her purse, tucked away in the closet, but she was certain that a loud cry for help would bring her neighbours running.
"I can't help you," she insisted and went to close the door again, only to find it was still jammed. She looked down to see his trainer stuck in the jamb.
"Sarah, please, I really think you can. I'm looking for a friend of mine, he's been missing since early September."
"I can't-"
"Just look at his picture" he cut her off, his frustration evident. "If you tell me you've never seen him, then I'll leave you alone. I promise. Just…look." He pressed a photograph through the space in the door and, after waving it at her encouragingly, she took it and turned it over and nearly dropped it.
The tremors in her hand grew worse as she stared at a picture of a young man with bright blue eyes and a floppy hat, clutching a fishing rod. It wasn't a great picture, but it was clear. She brought her hand to her mouth in horror.
"His name is Lewis," he said softly.
"They told me they caught him in a net," she wanted to cry. "They told me he was sick, and alone and needed help. That he was unstable…" she trailed off at the look that came over the dark haired mans face. It was a look she wasn't sure she wanted to interpret.
"My name's Zane, and I would really appreciate it if we could sit down and talk about him." She stared at him a moment longer, and then down at the goofy grin on photo Lewis's face. She'd never seen Lewis smile like that the entire two months she'd known him. Actually, she'd never seen him smile at all.
"Yes, of course." She let him in and they sat in her kitchen, fresh cups of tea before them and the storm raging on outside and he thanked her for trusting him, for letting him in.
She felt as though she was the last person he should be thanking.
"You said they 'caught him in a net?'" He leaned forward, his gaze intense as he got down to business and with those few simple words her unease came right back.
"How well did you say you know Lewis?" She tried to sound casual, and saw the moment he understood her question because he stood up from the table abruptly, suddenly a ball of tight energy as he began pacing.
"Not well enough," he muttered, and looked back at her suspiciously. "They caught him in a net?" he repeated his question.
"That's what they told me. He was injured and they helped him get better." His face went stony then.
"And did they? Help him get better?" She couldn't answer that, and looked away. "Are they still 'helping' him get better?" She felt a tear roll down her cheek and she brushed it away.
"No, I really don't think they are."
"He has a fin?" He asked her point blank, staring at her intensely and she agreed before she thought about just blurting something like that out to a stranger, regardless of his apparent friendship.
"Son of a BITCH!" He wheeled away from her, his face flushing in anger and he braced his hands on a wall, looking as though he wanted to hit it. More than once. "That stupid, self-sacrificing idiot!" His fists clenched tightly and she sat there, frozen by his burst of livid anger, and didn't say a thing. It was several long minutes before he seemed to get his breathing under control, and he still remained facing the wall as he got his emotions under control. When he finally joined her again at the table he was a wall of fake calm.
"Is he okay?"
"He's managing," she said softly, not willing to go into detail of the terrible things he had to 'manage.'
"Managing." He repeated, and huffed disbelievingly. "Sarah, I promise you that he is not playing Denman's labrat by choice, and I am not going to sit aside and allow this to continue."
"It never should have happened in the first place," she whispered. She had no difficulty believing Lewis didn't want to be there, especially after his escape attempt that morning. She could honestly say she had never been more disappointed in her life then when Gil had tackled him just before he'd made it to the dolphin pool.
"No, it shouldn't have," he agreed softly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. She took a deep, steadying breath.
"Dr. Denman and Gil usually leave around ten in the evening, and other then the two guards they're the last ones to go." She went to the closet and retrieved her purse, pulling her access card out of it and gingerly handing it over. He took it with a frown. "This will open any door within the facility, but you'll need to be careful of the security cameras. They're all over the place."
"I don't think its going to matter if they see me or not. They can't very well go to the police and say I broke in and stole their kidnapped merman whom they were secretly experimenting on illegally." He tucked it into his pocket. "Still, it would probably be a good idea to be cautious." She nodded her agreement, and then drew him a rough map of the facility.
"He'll be in here tonight," she pointed to a small room. "You might want to take a pair of heavy wire cutters with you." His look demanded more of an explanation and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Lewis is rather…creative. He attempted another escape today, and nearly succeeded. Gil wasn't too impressed and he ordered that Lewis be appropriately 'tethered' from now on." His eyes narrowed in anger at this, but he didn't do more then nod in acceptance. "On the chance that they may have moved him after I left, he'll be in this room" she pointed at a much larger square. "Most likely in a tank." Hopefully in a tank, she thought.
"Right. Are the guards armed?"
"They carry electric-shock batons, but obviously they won't use them when he's wet. On you they won't care."
"Right." He was tense and his face pinched in a frown, and he assessed her for a long moment before nodding to himself and pushing off from the table. He picked up the photo of Lewis from the tables surface and tucked it into an inside pocket of his jacket. "I'll be going then." She stood up quickly and followed him to the door, he nodded thanks and she wanted to tell him to be careful. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She wanted to offer to go along, but she didn't do any of these things. She just watched him as he marched to the stairwell and disappeared through the door. Anything she said at this point probably wouldn't be well received: she understood that while she was helping him now, he was perfectly aware that she had been involved in keep Lewis a prisoner.
As for not offering to help him…she never wanted to go back there again, and she couldn't handle the idea of looking at Lewis and seeing his understanding, yet unforgiving eyes.
She closed her door and went to crack open a bottle of whisky.