(Michael)
Michael loosened his tie with a sigh and eased his long frame down onto the sofa in his small apartment.
He had just returned from a debriefing on the Tancredi case; a case with which he was officially, until further notice no longer needed. .
And while he was sure the Governor hadn't been happy to find that his only daughter was a heroin addict, it certainly was a convenient way to keep her safe. She would be on round the clock surveillance for the next thirty days, as of today.
Of course when Miss Tancredi returned from rehab his services would once again be employed, but until then he was a free agent, so to speak
He sighed again and scraped a hand across his closely cropped hair. He knew that there was a good chance the whole thing would be over soon. As soon as they caught the sicko sending threatening letters to the Governor's mansion his first case; well the first case he had been involved with anyways, would be over.
Michael grabbed the remote, his mind needing the release of a mindless sitcom or unrealistic drama.
He chuckled as the credits came up for a show with a tattooed genius who was dead set on breaking his brother out of a maximum security prison.
He shook his head and settled back, intent on giving himself over to an hour of the unrealistic for once.
(Sara)
This was bullshit! Sara had been pacing angrily ever since they showed her to the small room. She walked passed the mirror, not fooled for a second that she was truly alone.
Refusing to let them believe she was that naive, she flipped them the bird. If the chairs weren't bolted down, and she knew that they were, she had already checked, she would shatter their little fantasy all to hell.
She couldn't believe this was happening. The last thing she could remember was fixing and falling asleep. The next thing she knew her father was pouring cold water on her and shoving the used syringe under her nose demanding answers. After a huge yell fest Frank had laid down the law, she was going into rehab; a thirty day program, non negotiable.
Now here she was being treated like a criminal, waiting for some smart ass doctor to tell her she was an addict.
She glared at the mirror, her pale image made even more so by the harsh lighting.
A few minutes later, tired from her fast pacing, Sara went to a chair and plopped down, her dark hair falling over her eyes, shielding her from any unwanted scrutiny. She sat quietly at first, taking deep breaths, but then she started thinking about the events that had led up to her admittance to this prison.
Try as she might she couldn't really remember much, just a guy with short dark hair and glasses… Was he real?
She shook her head to clear the fog. Yes, he had been real, she was sure of it… Michael…
She wasn't sure what he had to do with anything, but still she was happy to have retrieved even this small portion of her last night of freedom.
She looked down at her hands and noticed the slight tremble present, signaling that she would need a fix soon.
She felt her stomach lurch as a new fear gripped her, and started to grow.
What was going to happen to her?
(Michael)
(29 days later)
The case was cold, that is until three days ago.
There had been no new correspondence from the individual threatening the Governor and his family.
But then the package arrived.
The package containing photos of the Governor and his daughter; photos of Sara in the garden of the posh rehabilitation facility, the location of which only a select few had been privy to. The package had lit the fire that was needed to make the case priority one again.
Michael wiped the sweat from his brow as he rounded the bend of track, his thoughts flying fast over the events of the passed few days.
He was to be put back into play soon, tomorrow in fact.
He was due for another debriefing in an hour. At which time he would be given instructions on how to move forward in his infiltration into the life of the Governor's daughter.
He looked at his watch and deciding he had time for another quick lap around the track he sped up, his runner's legs stretching out, eating the pavement and spitting it out behind him.
