Summer couldn't sleep in the punishment box. She could barely breathe in it. All she could do was sit and think about everything she had lost as a result of this nightmare. As what little light penetrated the cracks around the door, plunging her into complete darkness, she pulled into herself for warmth and comfort. She missed the comfort of her quarters back on the base. Under the circumstances, even the basic beds back in her cell would have been luxury.
She struggled with everything going on in her mind. This nightmare had swallowed her whole, stolen everything from her. She banged the back of her head against the steel wall of the tiny cell in a vain hope that somehow the impact would straighten out the unintelligible fog that clouded her mind, but to no avail. She still couldn't recall anything of the night she had gone to the apartment of the three murder victims, regardless of how hard she tried.
Since then, all she could think about was the horrifying events that had unfolded since she had been discovered in that apartment. She had been arrested and treated like a vicious, mad dog being prepared to be put down. She could remember the remorseless stream of tests as blood and tissue samples were taken from her in a humiliating ritual to prove what they had already decided. She could remember every hateful, judgemental look she'd received since news had broken that she was a three time murderer.
Most of all, she could recall the reactions of her friends. Scott had not been to see her, save from the public gallery in the courtroom since she had been arrested. Even there, he hadn't said anything to her. She could remember the way he had looked at her as Colonel Truman recounted what had happened to her when they were at the academy. She could feel something in herself that she had never thought she'd ever feel when he looked at her. She felt pity. She had sworn Colonel Truman to secrecy back then because she didn't want Scott to think of her as weak or helpless. They had been close friends for so long that his opinion of her was crucial to her.
He couldn't bring himself to say anything to her as she was taken away. That was what she had feared the most if he found out. He was ashamed of her. He didn't respect her anymore. Even if she wasn't locked away in here, she was sure she had lost him.
Flynn had always been a good friend to her. She had first met him during the evacuation, and they had hit it off straight away. He had kind of an easy-going nature that was completely unlike any of the people she had met before. She had been at the military academy for so long; she had virtually grown up there. Everyone was so stern and formal there. Even Colonel Truman, the man who had been like a second father to her rarely dropped the attitude.
Flynn though, was totally different. He was friendly, funny, and he always had a kind word to say about everyone. Being one of the few girls in the military academy, she had always been in a male-dominated environment. She had to constantly struggle and strive, working twice as hard to be given half as much respect as the guys, but with Flynn she never felt like she had to prove herself.
There were many times she could just let down her walls and just enjoy a conversation, or even to laugh with him. She remembered seeing the same pity in him that she saw in Scott when he learned about the attack, and it was heartbreaking to see it. Flynn was the man she could laugh with, he was never meant to feel sorrow for her. She remembered seeing him yelling and struggling against Scott, protested the decision, only to be restrained. She would miss Flynn, he always made her feel good about herself, but even thinking about him couldn't lift her spirits in here.
Ziggy made her laugh. Not in the same way Flynn did, but he was really funny. His little eccentricities had annoyed her at first. He followed Dillon and the others around like an annoying little brother. He was constantly talking about completely random and unimportant things, and he never took anything seriously.
Over time though, she had come to realise that he was just a little different. He was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. He was a complete whizz with computers, impressing even Dr. K with his hacking abilities. More than anything, as a result of his somewhat less than spotless past, he was incredibly streetwise. There were many times that he knew a contact within the underworld that could give them information they needed.
Of course, they were never that close. That much had been confirmed in her mind by the way he couldn't even come to the courtroom.
Then there was Dillon. She had seen so much in him when he arrived; she was willing to stand against her long time friends, even Scott, who had almost been like a brother to her. She had always been quite stand-offish to others at first, largely because it was so hard for her to trust men after the attack, but something drew her to him. He had intrigued her.
She had taken the opportunity while he was in prison to go and talk to him. She felt secure and safe in that situation, she was in control. Even in that situation though, he stood up to her and challenged her. He didn't back down to her. That had only intrigued her more; she just had to know more about him. She had been the only one to give him a chance, and they had grown closer over the months since they had met. She was even beginning to let her guard down, entertaining the thought that perhaps there was a man she could trust completely, that perhaps they could be more than friends.
Of course those hopes had been cruelly dashed since then. She was so stupid and stubborn; she couldn't just let it go when he made fun of her in the bar. She had to try and prove that he was wrong. Even with him, she still struggled to maintain the upper hand, and it had cost her dearly. She was never going to leave this place while she was alive. More than that, he had turned his back on her. Just like Ziggy, he hadn't even turned up to court, what would possibly be the last time he would ever see her.
The door was ripped open, and light flooded in, almost blinding her. Summer shielded her eyes with her hand, squinting to try and focus. She hadn't even noticed that the first light of morning had started to creep through the cracks in the door. A guard reached in, grabbing the back of her steel collar roughly, pulling it painfully against her throat and dragged her out of the punishment box into the yard and dumped her on the ground.
"Get up!" He barked, kicking her leg hard. "I said, get up!"
Summer pulled herself shakily to her feet. After being shut up for so long, her legs felt weak and rubbery. Her back and neck were sore from being hunched over for so long.
"The other prisoners are on work detail. You're confined to your cell until dinner time." He told her, gesturing to the cell block. "Go!"
She made her way gingerly along the hall as he led her back to her cell. Between the injuries she had suffered at the hands of the other inmates and the strain of being held in the confined space for so long, it hurt just to stand, never mind walk. She arrived back at her cell, at which point the guard locked the door behind her.
She watched for a second to make sure he had left, before throwing herself onto the bed, and shoving her hand into her pillowcase. True to her word, Mouse had smuggled some food out of the breakfast room for her. It wasn't much, just a couple of pieces of dry toast, but all things considered it was better than going hungry for the next 12 hours or so until dinner service.
Quickly wolfing down the toast, she made her way to the mirror on the wall and checked her appearance. Her lack of any real sleep had left her with large, dark circles under her eyes, standing in stark contrast to her pale skin. She could barely stand straight, and her eyes were bloodshot. She looked like hell, and felt as though she had aged about forty years and she had only been in here one night. She slumped down onto the bed and curled up under the covers as exhaustion finally claimed her. For the first time since she had been incarcerated, she was able to sleep.
Dillon, Flynn and Ziggy turned up at the bar, finding the door locked.
"The deliveries always come in about this time." Ziggy told them. "Someone will be here."
"How do you know..." Flynn tailed off and held up a hand as he reconsidered. In the past, Ziggy had been involved in some low-level black marketeering and minor scams. It was probably best he didn't ask. "You know what, never mind."
"So someone will be in here." Dillon responded.
"OK, we need to get some answers from this guy." Ziggy stated. "Now, I think if we stay calm and exercise a little subtlety..."
At that point, Dillon kicked the door as hard as he could, sending it flying into the bar. He strode inside purposefully, crushing what was left of it underfoot as he entered.
"Or we could just do that." Flynn responded sarcastically as they followed him in. They made their way into the main bar where they found the barman from the night of the murders, Stephen, coming towards them carrying a baseball bat.
"What the hell man!" He screamed, gesturing wildly. "What the hell did you do to my door?"
"RPM." Dillon answered, showing him his ID. "We wanted to talk about a little 911 call you made the other night."
A look of panic crossed his face and he pulled the bat back over his shoulder defensively.
"Oh, so not smart." Dillon warned him, surging forward quickly. He grabbed his wrist, before wrenching the bat from his grip and shoved him to the floor. He stared up at him in horror as Dillon effortlessly snapped the bat in half.
He scrambled on the floor to get to his feet and started to run, only to be caught by Dillon. He launched him almost 12 feet, over the bar, smashing him through the display of bottles behind the bar.
"Dillon stop this!" Flynn yelled, grabbing his shoulder. "We're here to question him!"
"I'll get him to talk." Dillon replied, shrugging off his hand.
"It'll be a little hard for him to talk if you break his jaw." Ziggy chipped in. Dillon didn't seem to pay much attention though. As Stephen got back to his feet, Dillon reached across the bar, grabbing him and hauling him back over it, before throwing him onto the pool table. He hooked his arm into a painful arm lock.
"You made a 911 call from a cell phone on the night Summer was arrested." Dillon demanded, exerting some pressure. "Why!"
"I didn't make any phone call." He lied as he squirmed in pain. Dillon increased the pressure, feeling his arm hyper extending. The barman screamed in pain.
"You know, because of my implants, I have increased strength." He informed him. "Of course I don't know exactly how much strength I have. I bet I could probably tear your arm clean off."
"Dillon, think about this!" Flynn told him, getting in his face. "You have to stop..."
"We found the cell phone." Ziggy told the barman. "We found a fingerprint. We know it was you..."
"Alright, I admit it, I made the call!" He screamed. Dillon released him, allowing him to sit phone about. I was just told to make the call."
"Who told you?" Dillon asked him, wringing his hands impatiently.
"I'd answer him." Ziggy advised him. "He has that crazy....er...look in his eyes. I don't think he's in the mood to be lied to."
"I don't know." He replied.
"That's it, the arm's coming off." Dillon snapped, forcing him back onto the table. Flynn tried in vain to restrain him, but he couldn't.
"I don't know, I really don't I swear!" She screamed, writhing in his attempt to escape Dillon's grip. "I got the phone and the instructions in the mail! Some guy said he'd put 2000 creds into my account if I made a 911 call when he phoned me and then dumped the phone."
"You didn't think that was odd?" Ziggy asked him.
"I figured it was something to do with the black market." He responded. "I figured it was just a dealer trying to clear another firm out of his area, he never told me what they'd find in that apartment I swear!"
Dillon released him, allowing him to sit back up. Flynn pointed to a security monitor in the corner.
"I thought the cameras didn't work." He replied. "That's why there was no footage of Summer leaving the bar."
"The instructions told me to steal the tapes from that night." Stephen admitted. "I figured that whoever was setting this up was in the bar that night and didn't want any evidence."
"I'll bet he didn't." Flynn said sarcastically. "Do you still have the tapes?"
"I hope for your sake you do." Dillon warned him.
"They're in the safe out back." He informed them. "I'll get them for you."
They followed him into the back room, where he opened the safe and gave them the tapes. Ziggy put the tape into the machine and fast forwarded the tape through the night until the point Dillon left, at which they started watching. During the evening, Summer talked with them and annihilated them on the pool table for a while, but not long afterwards, she seemed to become disorientated and unsteady on her feet.
Eventually, she seemed to be barely capable of walking. One of the men reached an arm around her under her arms and held her up. The four left the bar after that, the three men left with her. Dillon noticed that her feet weren't moving. She was being dragged. Anger burned within him as he saw this. Their intentions had been obvious, and Stephen had done nothing to stop it. He had let them leave with her in that state.
Flynn grabbed him roughly by the jacket and rammed him against the wall.
"You slimy piece of shite!" He screamed at him, squeezing his throat with his forearm. "You knew damn she was in no condition to go home! Why didn't you stop them?"
"How many people do you think get dragged out of here after a few too many drinks?" He asked him.
"You had been watching them all night!" He continued to yell at him. "Anyone could see what they wanted from her. Why didn't you do anything to stop them?"
"It was none of my business what happened." He stated. "Who am I to judge if her idea of a good time was drinking herself into a stupor and..."
Flynn punched him, sending him to the floor. He had heard enough, this lowlife made him sick to his stomach; he wasn't fit to talk about Summer. There was no way he was going to let him bad mouth her behind her back.
"It's your business now." Dillon reminded him. "Those three are dead, and to the best of our knowledge, you're the last one to see them alive."
"And you did make a 911 call that sent the military to their apartment." Ziggy reminded him. "It seems a little bit of a coincidence. Things don't look good for you."
"You know what happened in that apartment. Our friend was sent to jail for life!" Flynn spat in his anger. "Why did you sit on this evidence?"
"Three people are dead!" Stephen reminded them. "I didn't want to risk being next. 2000 creds is not enough to risk my life for!"
"No, it's just enough to send a potentially innocent woman to prison for." Dillon said coldly. "If you know anything else..."
"Guys!" Ziggy called out, looking back to the screen. He paused the video and re-wound it. They watched as he played it back. Around the same time the victims left the bar, a man in a black hoodie got up from a table and seemed to follow them out. They re wound it another few times, watching more and more of the footage, and realised that the hooded stranger had been watching Summer for much of the night. "There was someone else in the bar watching her."
"We're taking these tapes." Dillon informed him.
"You broke my arm!" Stephen whimpered as he left. "You trashed the bar! I want that psycho charged!"
"You've withheld evidence in a murder trial." Flynn reminded him. "Trust me; you have nothing to bitch about. Expect a visit from our colleagues soon."
As they left the bar, Flynn cornered Dillon.
"Ziggy, take those tapes back to the garage." Flynn instructed him. The Green Ranger did so without question, leaving them alone. Flynn rounded on Dillon.
"What's on your mind?" He asked the Blue Ranger.
"You went way over the line." Flynn told him. "You could have killed him."
"But I didn't." Dillon answered. "I knew exactly what I was doing."
"Don't think you're the only one that cares about Summer." Flynn reminded him. "We're all here."
"I was the only one willing to cross the line from the start!" Dillon snapped. "While you were all bitching and whining about how much you care about her and how terrible it was this happened to her, I was the one out there doing something about it!"
"You're getting seriously close to ending up inside yourself." Flynn told him. "What happened to Summer just proves that the Ranger thing only gets us so much leeway. Is that what you want?"
"No, I want her to be released." Dillon answered. "I looked in her eyes, I saw how terrified she was, and I know she couldn't have done this."
"That's not all you saw in her eyes is it?" Flynn asked him.
"I don't follow." Dillon said weakly. "What are you trying to say Flynn?"
"I saw your face when you were beating on Stephen." Flynn told him. "I saw your eyes. There was a lot of anger in there. You're becoming too emotionally invested in this. If you want to help her, you need to back off a bit."
"What are you talking about?" Dillon asked him. "I was just..."
"I know Dillon, even if you don't want to admit it." He interrupted him. "I know that you love her."
Dillon let out a long, slow breath. Flynn had seen right through him. He was invested in this in the biggest way; he had to get her out. She meant so much to him. Flynn put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly.
"I know you want to help her, but turning the whole military against us isn't going to help." He reminded him. "Summer's tough, she'll survive in there. Just, calm down and believe that everything will work out. Otherwise you're going to lose control. Then you'll be no good to her."
"I'll try and back it down." Dillon told him. "Listen Flynn, can we..."
"I won't say anything, it's not my place." He replied. "Just, try to remember what I said."
"I will." He responded in a sigh. "Thanks Flynn."
At that point, Scott arrived at Paul White's apartment, finding another forensics team working over it. One of the guards approached him.
"Sorry, this is a crime scene." He told him. Scott noticed that he had a black eye and a split lip, probably Dillon's handiwork from when he was in the apartment earlier. He presented his ID to the guard.
"I wanted to view the crime scene." He told him. "I take it the forensics team's here to sweep it one more time before turning the property back over to the building superintendant."
"That's exactly right sir." He responded respectfully. "You can get a crime scene suit from the supervisor, he's just over there."
"Thanks." Scott said, making his way over to the supervisor and collecting a paper suit and some shoe covers. He got dressed quickly before heading into the apartment. He found the lead forensic expert checking a blood stain.
"I really don't know why we have to bother with this." He grumbled as Scott came into the room. "I know its procedure to have another sweep before turning the property back over to the building superintendant, but it's an open and shut case!"
"Well some people might think it's a good idea to be thorough." Scott said sarcastically. "Especially when someone's life hangs in the balance Dr....."
"McIntyre." He introduced himself, shaking Scott's hand weakly. "Well let's see, there were three bodies, the door was locked from the inside, there was only one other person in the room, and the knife had her fingerprints on it."
"Well that tells me that Summer touched the knife." Scott responded. "It tells me that the knife was used to kill those three men, and that no one left through the door."
"Therefore she killed them." Dr. McIntyre responded in a slightly exasperated tone. "There's an old saying, nine times out of ten, the most obvious solution is usually the right one."
"Well, it's still worth checking to make sure this isn't that other one time." Scott replied, picking up a torch and shining it around the room.
"Well your friends coming in here and messing up the evidence didn't help, but there were only four sets of footprints!" He said a little grumpily, becoming bad tempered at his findings being questioned. "They match the shoes of the three victims and Ms. Landsdown!"
"That only means four DIFFERENT kinds of shoes were in the room." Scott responded, stopping by the hatch to the recycling chute. "What if someone else was in the room, but was wearing the same size and make of shoes as one of the others?"
"It's possible, but they would have been found in the room!" He reminded Scott. "The door was locked from the inside!"
"Well maybe he found a back door." Scott suggested, gesturing to one of the others for an ultra violet torch. He opened the hatch and shone it in. Blood reflected back in a bright purple shade. "I take it you did check in here right?"