Chapter 4: Save them

Casey returned to his apartment to shower away the reek of the fire and morgue room. He changed into a black tee and jeans and packed a large duffel bag with the essentials. Major Beckman was livid. It was time to run.

"I need to find a Motel six…they'll leave the light on for me." He grumbled. "Yeah…so you can see the roaches!"

He made a mental checklist of everything he needed – weaponry, his private laptop, and spy gear. Now the most important. He walked slowly to his end table where his Reagan portrait sat and casually moved it over, picking up a colorful and sparkly macaroni frame. Little Charlotte smiled gleefully at him in her fluffy, pink tutu. His throat prickled and a noise between a whimper and a sigh escaped him. He kissed her image, packed the picture in the bag and crossed the room to his bookshelf.

Kneeling down, he pulled out a large, white photo album. Julia had designed him a 'Charlotte' timeline, making him a copy of photos from her birth to the present. The last five pages were filled with pictures of them all together on his last few visits. No one could tell he was a hard nosed assassin in these photos. He was just a big bear of man bundled up in the Canadian wilderness with a huge smile and strong arms wrapped protectively around his family. He traced the pictures with his fingertips. He'd forgotten what a genuine smile looked like, more specifically, his own. Julia chastised that he should do it more, because she found it 'dashing'. He had to laugh at her most recent comment.

"John, what was the point of all that dental work if you don't even show it off? If you ask me, I wish you would've kept those adorable snaggle teeth!"

Julia was always right on target with a reprimand and compliment rolled into one.

He rose and clutched the book to his chest. It was a highly impractical thing to bring, but he couldn't part with it. His thoughts spun uncontrollably. It was too dangerous to log onto his computer, he was positive Beckman was trying to track him down. He was surprised they hadn't busted his door down already. Beckman was still human, maybe she wanted to give him at least a few hours to grieve.

As he locked up he peeked at the Bartowski apartment. Everything was silent. Devon and Ellie were most likely at the hospital hiding their grief and bandaging survivors. Casey walked around the fountain and halted by Chuck's window. He stole a glance at his console. He almost expected to see the nerd clacking away on his computer like Doogie Howser.

"Casey, you moron, check the room! There might be a clue!" He gritted his teeth and climbed inside. Columbo he wasn't, but he had to try.

He was struck by the condition of the room. "Did a bomb strike here too?"

Chuck's usually tidy bed was a wreck; bloodstains seeped into the mattress near the edge. He found swabs of balled up gauze stuffed in the wastebasket with more blood. Casey dug into his jacket pocket and put on a pair of gloves. The computer displayed a montage of Chuck and Sarah photos. The sadness crept back. Poor Sarah, she was so young and confused with her latest mission. It was obvious she desperately loved Chuck. He debated checking the internet history, Beckman may have had her claws on it too. Casey spotted a torn note pasted on top with a message scribbled in red ink.

'SAVE THEM.'

"What the hell is this kid up to? What did he do this morning?" He wondered aloud.

It could have been a reminder for one of Chuck's many video games, but the answer didn't seem that simple. Could the kidnapper have written this? Maybe he was dealing with a schizophrenic psychopath, or it was a cruel joke.

When Casey saw Ellie and Devon earlier, they were in their hospital scrubs and looked about ready to start their shifts. It struck him hard that Chuck may have been murdered in his own bedroom.

"That would mean I was right next door snoring away when…" Casey refused to think about it further.

He fell on his knees and checked under the bed for Chuck's missing hand. What he found were dust balls and two pairs of ripe converse sneakers. He staggered up and rubbed the back of his head. It didn't happen here. Chuck would've surely screamed loud enough for him to hear and at least try to put up a fight. Save for the bloody rags and cotton, the room was clean, and everything upright. He checked in the bathroom and found more evidence of a bloody mess hidden in the wastebasket and needle nosed pliers tossed in the sink.

"Maybe he picked up a new method for popping zits?" Casey tried to humor himself. The mess was too neat for a severed hand.

Chuck's answering machine blinked with two new messages and he played them back.

"Chuck! Hey, it's me…where are you man? We're getting desperate! Can you please beg Big Mike to give you the Assistant Manager job? PUHLEEZE! We need you and your leadership skills, buddy. Working for Tang was a nightmare, working for Lester was a joke…and exhausting…bailing him out and all that... hellooooooo? Chuckie? Pick up! Oh yeah! That reminds me bro, Ellie wants you to pick up steaks for dinner…hey, am I invited? I tried your cell but it must be dead… okay…guess you're really not home, I'll see ya when you come in…if you come in!"

Casey stroked his chin. When they'd found Chuck's body, he didn't have his cell phone on him. Morgan's message came through at 10:00am. He felt bad for Morgan; he wasn't the worst kid, just an annoyance that needed to mature. The next message played and Casey jumped back. It was his own irritated and groggy voice.

"Listen, you nerd, there had better be a good reason for calling me while I'm sleeping in…hello? Chuck? Are you there? Forget it, you're probably at work already." Click.

Casey's call was made at 10:15am.

"When did I do that? Was I so tired I don't even remember?" He thought with an odd feeling. It was no matter. The damage was already done and Chuck was still dead.

The Nerd Herder usually parked in front was missing and a quick thought sprang to Casey as he left Chuck's apartment.

"My GPS Data logger! That'll tell me where his car went!"

Casey rummaged through his backpack and pulled out the small black device. He made sure to have one stored on the Nerd Herder for Chuck's protection. Casey went back into his apartment and quickly plugged in the logger. As soon as the data loaded onscreen, the file popped open and turned into a mess of code.

"Dammit! A scrambler!" Casey yanked the logger from his drive and flung it. Forget technology. He had to rely on his wits.

Casey retrieved his bags and left his apartment for good. For the next few hours he needed to lay low and plan out a course of action.