SPOILER ALERT!
The following chapter contains spoilers for episode 2x13.
If you haven't watched the episode yet, just skip the third and fourth paragraph.
III
He had been asleep too long. He needed to do something. Something urgent. But what? Sam yawned, stretched a little more and drowsily opened his eyes. It was still dark, so what would he be supposed to do? "Andy? Are you awake?"
There was loud music blaring on the floor above him and he had the mother of all headaches. A party? And if so, why was he passed out in the... basement? Where was he? Still tired, he tried to rub his eyes and found that he was unable to. His arms were stuck above his head, tied to a metal structure of some sort. Ignoring the pain in his back and shoulders, Sam frantically tried to pull himself free, only then noticing the characteristically spaced metal bars beneath his aching body.
"A bed-frame. Fantastic." He tried to ease the strain on his muscles by inching himself closer to the headboard, but soon realized that his legs were similarly immobilized as his arms, bound with thick rope. Spread out and completely helpless. Just like that time with Jamie Brennan. Sam's breath hitched as memories of the torture he'd had to endure washed over him. The more he tried to suppress the vivid nightmare, the more his body fought against the bonds that restrained him. He couldn't breathe, felt the water slide down his throat again. Felt his body contract as he fought for air and consciousness. Heard Brennan's voice, his endless questions.
"Stop it!" Sam wasn't sure whether he was talking to Brennan or himself. Grinding his teeth, he knocked his head as hard as he could against the closest bar of the bed. It hurt, catapulting the headache from inconvenient to unbearable. For a moment, the pain blocked out the overwhelming fear and that was all he needed to take the reigns again. He lay there, concentrating on his heavy breathing until suddenly the door opened and a blinding light was switched on.
"Look, he's awake!"
"Told you we should have done this right while he was still asleep", another voice shot back angrily. That must be Boyden, Sam reasoned. The man with the weapon, or, better, the teenager with the weapon. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the harsh light, he could see the two males hovering uncertainly on a stairwell at the end of the room behind Sam's head. His guess had been right, they were about the same age as Jeremy, the victim. Sam waited patiently for a few moments, surveying his surroundings. The room was small and windowless, dirty and without any furniture except for a few cardboard boxes and the stripped down bed. Probably a normal townhouse, which further supported his theory that those boys weren't professionals at all.
"You can still get out of this, you know? Just come here and cut these. Let me go. I promise I won't tell anybody."
"We can't. Not now, after you've seen our faces", Boyden said. He and the other guy, who was very tall and built like a Football player, carefully came down and towered over the Detective.
"Search him."
"Why do I have to? Search him yourself", Large answered, stepping back and rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans. "I already tied him up, it's your turn."
"Fine", Boyden snapped. Sam would have liked to laugh at the absurdity of the argument, but his mind was occupied. In his right inner pocket, his official police badge seemed to burn against his skin. If they found it, they wouldn't react well, that was for sure. As insecure as they were in their roles as wannabe kidnappers, who could tell what these kids would do?
"You already got the gun. My phone is in my left jeans pocket", Sam supplied helpfully as Boyden bent over him. Nimble fingers pulled out the new iPhone, which was then handed to Large, who eyed it suspiciously. "It's not going to explode, don't worry", the Detective said, trying to distract the other youth, who was systematically searching all his pockets.
"I'm not worried", Large sneered, deftly pulling the phone apart. Once he held the battery in the palm of his hand, he sighed appreciatively. "Just in case they try GPS. I've seen the movies, I know how this works."
"Oh, shut up", Boyden said. Sam shifted uncomfortably as his back pockets and even his shoes were patted down. No way he was going to hide a badge the size of his palm. Glancing up, he got the first good look at the ropes that shackled him to the bed. Chaotic knots and many more than necessary, but the whole construction seemed stable. He'd have to rely on his wits to keep things from going sideways.
"Does he always talk to you that way?", he asked Large, nodding at Boyden. Large's small brown eyes narrowed even further and his slim upper lip twitched into an unpleasant smile. "I know what you're trying to do. Play us against each other. Won't work. We're brothers, we protect each other."
"Brothers, huh?" They looked nothing alike, Large with a height of over six feet and a longish face whereas Boyden tended towards stocky and small. Both had nearly shaved heads, though. Did that count?
"Shut up, Des", Boyden repeated. "You shouldn't..." Whatever he was going to say, it got stuck in his throat when his search reached the inner pockets of Sam's jacket and he pulled out the shiny police badge. "Detective Sam Swarek. Fifteenth Division", Boyden read tonelessly, then both kidnappers stared in shocked silence.
Boyden's face was becoming the bright red of tomatoes and a thick blue vein was pulsing on his neck, warning Sam that things were going downhill as quickly as expected. Nonetheless, he didn't see the brutal punch to his unprotected ribs coming. The next one he did anticipate, although that didn't really help. Another well-placed fist forced Sam to cry out in pain, which spurred Large – Des – into action. Proving his superior strength, he easily pulled the raging Boyden off their captive.
"Um, I don't think we should, considering he's a cop and all."
"Oh yeah? Fuck you! And fuck this!", Boyden ranted, hitting the wall a few times before he hid his face in his hands. "We need to call Frankie. We're in over our heads."
"Frankie?", Des replied, lip twitching yet again in nervousness, "Do you think that's a good idea? Frankie, man, he scares me sometimes."
"He'll know how to deal with this", Boyden replied stiffly and kicked the bed-frame. Sam winced, but Des nodded, whereupon Boyden marched out of the room.
"Hey, thanks for the help", Sam said, holding back Des with his words. Des shrugged in an uncaring manner, clearly elsewhere with his thoughts.
"Don't thank me yet. I probably should have let Boyden blow off some steam. Would have been better for all of us." And with that, he trotted up the stairs and closed the massive wooded door, leaving Sam to ponder the implications of that final statement.
IV
Glass crunched under her feet as Officer Andy McNally walked the elderly couple to the other side of the street. "No, Ma'am, you really can't get any bread at the bakery today. The window is broken."
"I can see that! I'm not blind!", the Lady snapped. She was wearing such thick glasses that Andy was convinced she must be as blind as a mole. Also, the husband giggled right behind the woman's back and she didn't seem to notice.
"Don't mind Mary. She's a little forgetful sometimes. This is the third time she tried to buy bread this day."
"Oh yeah? When was the last time?", Andy asked the husband curiously. Maybe this job wouldn't be as boring as it had started out, maybe the bothersome Lady had seen something suspicious. On second thought, though, her testimony would hardly be reliable.
"Around eight, I think."
"What?", the Lady interrupted. "You were still sleepin at eight. Never get up early, you sluggard, leaving all the work for poor old Mary. Yes, you do." The husband smiled indulgently and after a quick dispute, he agreed, took Mary's hand and kissed it. Andy rolled her eyes at them. She and Sam were always arguing, too.
"Ma'am? Did you see anything peculiar on your way to the bakery early this morning?"
"Well, Mrs. Klinche had left the garage door open again...", Mary mused, stopping beside her husband to lean on his shoulder. The short brisk walk had clearly been too much for her. Nevertheless, she kept mentioning her neighbors – horrible folk apparently, always having an untidy lawn – until Andy specified the location of the peculiar appearances to the store itself. By that time, Mary's husband was trying so hard not to laugh that tears were streaming down his wrinkled face. Andy kinda hoped she and Sam would end up just like them. Old, withered and very much in love.
What was she thinking? She had a job to do and a witness to interrogate. "Oh, yes. Yes, yes, there was a commotion! Such a commotion I haven't seen in years, ever since the Rustler's moved out. Do you remember that, dear? Such a commotion!"
"Yes, Mary, I do remember. But what about the bakery?" At her husband's question, Mary seemed to stand up straighter.
"I was walking on the sidewalk, minding my own business, then the shouting started. And then bang! There goes the window. Luckily old Mary was on the other side of the street, yes, lucky me. But there were two men right next to it. One had a big paper bag from the bakery with him. Shame that he dropped it, I bet there were a lot of donuts in that bag. Hehe, hehe." Meanwhile, Andy had pulled out her notebook and filled the first page with slurry handwriting. At long last she was getting somewhere.
"The men, can you describe them?"
"Well, they were bigger than my husband. Younger and more muscular, too", she said and snickered when her husband defended that he was over eighty years old and had been an athlete himself in his prime. "One was blond and white, the other was a darker type. Black hair and taller."
"Anything else?" Mary thought for a moment, her face going completely blank. Oh no, I hope she didn't forget all about it right now. Looks like it... Andy grimaced, but Mary waved a finger in front of her thoughtfully.
"Yes. Yes, there was. I watched them go, yes I did. They were running away, old sluggards, and very fast, too. Faster than my husband could run." At which point the conversation dissolved into friendly bickering again, which both amused and annoyed Andy in equal measure.
"Okay, thank you very much, Ma'am. If anything else comes to mind about the scene you witnessed here today, please come down to the precinct", Andy said, wisely not giving out her number. Surely the neighbors and their garage could be handled without the help of the police. After she'd taken down their contact information, Andy went over to Gail to present her findings.
"Congratulations. The price is searching the area for a box of trampled donuts. Good luck finding them in this chaos", Gail answered with a fake smile. Andy replied in kind, groaning under her breath. That was something she hadn't thought about: to verify the statement, she had to find the bag of groceries. Great.
"Well, I better get to it." And how she regretted those words. Because there wasn't anything on the sidewalks, on the pavement, in the nearby trashcan or in the store itself. At last she got down to her knees and looked underneath each parked vehicle on the road.
"Jackpot!" Andy reached, got hold of the damn thing and pulled the bag out from under a blue Sedan. It was crumpled and dirty, but still smelled deliciously of sugar and chocolate. And there was something metallic lying on top of it.
"Um, Gail? Could you come over, please?", Andy asked, staring at the small objects in front of her.
"Oh great, you found the donuts. Amazing", Gail teased, but her grin got smaller when she saw the whole bag. "And car keys. Those might actually be useful, McNally. Hey, what's wrong?"
"Those are Sam's keys, Gail."
"What? Are you sure?" With an unreadable expression, the blond officer knelt down beside Andy, taking a closer look at her friend's ashen face.
"Yes. Hundred percent. Sam was here this morning."
"So... where did he go?"