Previously:

Colby muttered profanities under his breath. No Megan. Not a trace. He was pissed. And terrified.

"Nothing, Don," he relayed.

"We're clear here," David called in.

"Not a thing here either," Don reported disgustedly. "Jason? What about you?"

"Don, you need to see this…"

Before he had even finished his sentence, all three agents were running for Jason's warehouse, their hearts pounding.

The Madness of Megan Reeves

Chapter Eight: Found?

When they arrived, breathless and anxious, they found Jason and several other officers standing in a semi-circle. On the cement in front of them was a puddle of blood. A woman's blood-stained blouse was crumpled on the floor. There were several pictures of Megan scattered over the floor. Some were duplicates of the one's they had already received. Others were new. In some she was conscious, others not. Their friend's appearance was becoming more and more haggard. She didn't look good.

"Damn it!" was the simultaneous curse from the three agents.

"She was here!" David lamented.

"Where now?" Colby asked. "Back to Charlie or do we continue with the other locations on the list?"

Don thought a moment. "We continue. If we come up blank, then we can go back. I'll call him and let him know. Gary?"

Lieutenant Gary Walker turned to him.

"Can you stay here and supervise evidence recovery?"

Walker was slightly surprised that Eppes would allow LAPD to lead part of this investigation, but he readily agreed. "Anything you need to get Reeves back," he promised. "She's a mighty fine agent."

Don nodded his thanks, and the teams dispersed to their second locations.

The shops were only about three blocks apart, and David and Don arrived first. Tensions were running high as the two teams got into position.

Don counted down, and, seconds later, David did as well. "Three…two…one!"

David crashed into the book shop and nearly gave the elderly owner a heart attack. He lived above the shop and apparently wasn't accustomed to federal agents and local police swarming his store in the middle of the night.

After a quick sweep and many apologies, David called in their status. "Dead end again, Don."

Don's voice crackled through the radio. "Here, too," was his clipped response. He sounded about as frustrated as David felt.

Don and his team had entered the little hardware store to find that it was a former hardware store. It was entirely empty. Not a stray screw to be found. The team made tracks through the dust as they cleared the building.

Jason reported a few minutes later. "We've set up surveillance around campus, but it's been quiet so far."

Don sighed. "Keep it up, Jason. David, send your team home and head back to the office. I'll meet you there."

David headed back to his car dejectedly. They had yet to hear anything from Colby. His location had been farthest from the warehouses. He was their last chance.

Megan glared weakly as Marchesi came down the stairs. She had lost count of how many times he had raped her. The odd thing was that he always replaced her bra and jeans. Megan had no psychological explanation for that. She hadn't seen her shirt since the night he had taken her. She had no idea how long she had been his captive. He had taken her watch, and the basement had no windows. It could have been a day or a week. Maybe a month. The only way Megan had managed to stay sane was imaging her rescue. She had tried her hardest to escape on her own, but she couldn't do it. Marchesi taunted her by hanging the key to the cuffs on the headboard right above her head.

He moved next to the bed. He seemed extremely smug. "Your friends will never find you," he announced. "I've set them up. I spread the word around in the less-than-savory community that I'm holding you in a warehouse on 18th street. I had you there when I first took you and I left you on the floor just long enough for there to be a good size pool of your blood. Then I left your shirt on the floor. I've been returning to leave pictures of you there. I know someone will snitch, and your friends will think they've just missed you. They'll think I've taken you somewhere far away when, in reality, this house is only a few blocks from the FBI building."

Megan's eyes widened.

He grinned at her reaction. "Yes, we've been in the FBI's backyard almost the entire time, and they haven't found you yet. They'll never find you!"

Megan's hopes began to falter. Were they really that close? Would Marchesi be stupid enough or crazy enough to be so near to the FBI? She was pulled from her discouraging thoughts when Marchesi pulled off her jeans. She didn't have the strength to fight him anymore.

Colby approached the house nervously. He had heard Don, Jason, and David. This was the last location on Charlie's list. She had to be here. He had heard Don, Jason, and David. This was the last location on Charlie's list. She had to be here.

Colby counted quietly into his radio. "Three…two…one! Go! Go!"

SWAT smashed the front door, and they reamed in, Colby in the lead. The house was supposed to be empty, but it was obvious that someone had been living there. Irrationally, his hopes soared.

The main floor was cleared, and Colby pulled open the basement door. At the foot of the stairs, Colby stopped dead, and the agent behind him almost ran in to him.

On the far side of the basement, Marchesi held a knife to Megan's throat. The woman herself was barely conscious. She looked so much worse than she had in the last picture. Colby wanted to go to her more than anything, but he had to deal with Marchesi first.

"Drop it." The ice in Colby's voice as he moved further into the room would have dropped a sane man to his knees.

Marchesi just grinned maniacally. "She's mine!" he cackled.

Colby edged to the right, and the rest of the team fanned out to his left to block Marchesi in.

"Put down your weapons, or she dies!" the crazy man screamed.

"Not going to happen," Colby said through gritted teeth.

Marchesi shrugged. "Fine." He raised the knife slightly and made to plunge it into Megan's throat. She struggled feebly and tried to get away from him.

Two rounds from Colby's gun pierced his chest, and he fell to the floor.

Colby ran to Megan, ignoring the agents around him. Dimly, he heard the clearing the rest of the basement and one calling for a medical team.

Megan's body was limp in his arms as he unlocked the cuffs from her swollen wrists and ankles. They were bloody; it was obvious that she had fought hard. He pulled her to him. "Stay with me, Megan!"

Her eyelids fluttered but remained closed.

"Megan!"

Colby picked her up, and her head lolled against his shoulder. "How long on that med team?" he yelled.

"ETA is four minutes," somebody called back.

Colby quickly carried Megan up the stairs and out of the house. He saw David and Don screech to a halt and jump from their cars as he exited the front door.

Don had almost reached the FBI building when he heard his radio crackle to life. "Suspect in custody. Hostage is alive. Requesting two ambulances to…"

Before the message had finished Don had cranked the wheel into a u-turn, flicked on the sirens, and floored the accelerator to the house.

Evidently David had heard the report as well. He and Don arrived at the same time. They raced toward the house but stopped in their tracks as Colby exited with their fourth team member in his arms.

Her shirt and shoes were missing, and her bra and pants were soaked in blood. Her hair was matted with it. Megan's body was covered in cuts and bruises that spanned the color spectrum and stood out against the pallor of her skin. Her head rested against Colby's shoulder, and her body hung lifelessly in his arms.

Colby didn't look any better. He looked absolutely heartbroken, his eyes full of fear and grief.

"She won't wake up," he said mournfully when he reached them. "I can't get her to wake up."

Don immediately pressed two fingers to her throat. The heartbeat was weak, but it was steady. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is an ambulance on the way?" David asked.

Colby nodded mutely. They could hear the sirens in the distance.

A few minutes later, two ambulances pulled up. Surprisingly, Marchesi was still alive. They loaded him into one ambulance while the paramedics from the other ambulance pried Megan from Colby's protective grasp.

"Sir, you need to let go," one told him.

"We can't help her until you let us," said the other one.

Finally, Colby allowed them to help him lay her on the stretcher and then climbed into the ambulance after her.

The medic shrugged and slammed the doors.