Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter. I'm sorry this isn't as long as normal. I'm back to being busy again, to shorter and more frequent might be better than longer and less often.

A/N: I don't own, so don't sue.

Chapter 17

Into the Sun, Into the Rain

Jackie rested her back as far against the wall as she could manage, beads of sweat dripping off her head onto the floor. She had seen in on TV; a girl was discovered because the murderer noticed the sweat dripping onto the floor, and she tried to wipe away the perspiration, certain that its very presence was making some sort of echoing noise. She held her breath and waited, hoping that the shadows would conceal her should David or Rachael exit the room before she could hide.

She'd spent the last two days planning it, going over everything in her head, but even now she knew that she'd not given it enough thought. But she couldn't wait anymore; couldn't spend one more hour of her life in this prison. That was what it had become to her: a prison, only it was one she'd entered willingly.

She'd been studying for an MA in Holocaust Litigation. Been seemed the appropriate word, being in the past tense. There was no way of going back now. At the same time as beginning her studies her seven year relationship with her childhood sweetheart had broken down after she'd had an affair with another guy on her course, and then her life had flipped over like a car in a collision and she'd thrown herself into a depression. It had been four weeks after she'd began counselling sessions that she'd 'met' David Rostow. A week after that, Brian Goddard had sought her out and warned her against him, told her it could ruin her chances of completing her masters as Rostow wasn't meant to be anywhere near the college and his reputation had been ruined, and would probably taint hers. Paul Murphy had then sought her out and offered words of comfort and a warm body to sleep next to, plus given her a helping hand with an assignment. It had been then she'd been persuaded to join Rostow's family, believing that all her troubles and woes were down to sleeping and disappearing into the Devil's lair every night.

She knew she'd been brainwashed.

For a while, it had been nice; being taken care of, having other people sympathise with her and seemingly see her point of view, and she had seen theirs. But then things had changed. A man had joined, someone she'd known vaguely from the college, and he'd wanted out, wanted to leave their family. She overheard David talking to Paul and they'd agreed that he would have to go, that he was a liability.

A few hours later he'd disappeared. Vanished into thin air almost and they all believed that he'd left of his own free will.

For most of them, it made their loyalty stronger, made them feel more of a unit, but it made Jackie question. And when she saw blood on the sheets and a hole that looked the same size as a bullet the brainwashing ceased.

Now she stood; metres away from Rachael and Rostow, listening into their conversation, the topic of which was making her blood run cold. They were discussing the end, the final passageway out of the reach of Hypnos and Thanatos. They were talking about mass suicide.

She felt the sweat run cold as it trailed down her back, leaving pathways along skin that had felt no touch bar her own for several months. She had seen Rachael enter the nearby door from the outside, she'd glimpsed the natural light of the outside world, and she'd seen Rachael fail to lock the door behind her. That had been stroke of luck. She'd been planning on running out of the door whenever someone left and taking that chance. But now it seemed that she could just slip out.

Rostow and Rachael began to speak again, completely unaware to the fact that someone was outside in a forbidden area. Jackie resisted temptation to listen in any longer and instead began to head to the door, hiding in the shadows. She heard Rostow raise his voice and mention a name, someone called Maxwell. Taking advantage of their distraction she upped her pace and reached the door.

Twisting the unlocked handle, she blinked as she saw the light of the sun for the first time in months and then began to run as fast as she could, tears streaming down her face and the wind blowing them dry.

-&-

"She's refusing to talk."

Stella watched Mac as he leaned into the window pane, looking out over the city. His shoulders were rigid, his muscles tense with frustration and she pushed away the brief urge to use her hands to relax his shoulders, pushing her finger tips into the back pockets of the jeans she had chosen to wear.

"Can we charge her with obstruction?" she said.

Mac nodded; his expression grim. "It's been done; if only to keep her somewhere safe until we make sure that she's not on this group's hit list."

"You don't think we'll get anywhere with her?" Stella said, wanting confirmation before she tested her theory.

His face was pulled into an expression that gave away his opinion on the matter, and she began to explain how frequently she saw Sam near her apartment. "I thought it was because he had a girlfriend who lived around there," she said. "But now I think it's where Rostow and his 'Family' may be based."

"It's the biggest lead we have at the moment," Mac said. "I've sent Danny to do a thorough search of Sam's apartment and see if that gives us any leads. Until then, we're back to where we were."

Stella nodded, thoughts running through her mind and she tried to capture them. "Rostow's father. Have we heard from him since?"

Mac shook his head. "There's been no word from him. Why? What do you think he knows?"

"Well, the last time we spoke with him we had no idea of a cult. Maybe he knew about it and just failed to mention it," Stella put forward. "I'm going to go back to him and see what he's got to say."

-&-

There was no sign of Elior Rostow at the address he'd given, and the woman he'd claimed to be his sister was in fact an only child – a miracle baby, as she told Stella, taking up ten minutes of the detective's time, ten minutes Stella knew she'd never get back. Stella then headed back to Brian Goddard's house, knowing that if Elior wasn't there, then they had lost all contact with him and yet again, they'd be at square one.

The day was fine and bright, no promise of rain hung in the air and had this been a rest day – a rarity since the bug had hit – she would have spent it walking around one of New York's many parks, taking in the city and its character, always finding something new and different in places she'd seen before.

But it was no rest day, and it was unlikely to be anything along the lines of restful. She parked up at the front of Goddard's house and rapped firmly on the door. Technically, she should have someone else with her, but the sickness had left them short staffed, and she knew what she was doing. If anyone other than Elior answered, she'd remain outside.

Much to her surprise, it was the old man. He offered her a warm smile and stepped outside, letting the door close to behind him.

"Beautiful day," he said, looking up at the sky. "And I bet you've spent the first part of it chasing round after an old man."

"How'd you guess?" she said, unable to show the extent of her wrath in a glare at the smiling man.

"She is my sister," he said. "But she was an actress when she was younger and she had you fooled, didn't she?"

Stella nodded and raised her eyebrows. "Why give us a false address and stay here?" she said.

He looked at her knowingly. "Because there's someone who could have gotten hold of that information and used it to find me."

"Weren't you concerned they'd harm your sister?"

"She had you convinced, didn't she? Well, there you go. And now you want to know how I know about Sam, don't you?" he said. "You'd better come in, Miss Bonasera, this could take a while."

-&-

"Bramhall Avenue," Flack said, ending the call on his cell. He looked at Angell sat next to him in the car. "5061. That's our place." He started the engine, hoping that this was the breakthrough that they needed, then he'd finally get some time to actually finish a bagel while sitting down.

"Some big houses there," Angell said. "You'd need ten times more than both our salaries combined just to own a box room."

Flack nodded. "We ain't going to be buying round there anytime soon," he swerved passed a car that seemed to have a driver intent on mass murder. "Sometimes I wonder if licences are given out free with every pretzel."

"Flack, pull over," Angell said. He vaguely noticed the use of his last name. When they were alone and off duty it was 'Don'. Now, on work time, he was Flack. He stopped the car, glaring at the driver who drove passed giving him a middle finger salute.

He saw why Angell had told him to stop. A woman he recognised was running down the street in bare feet, other pedestrians falling out of the way and sending her mortified looks at her state of disarray. Angell jumped out of the car and intersected the woman's path, keeping her upright as the woman collapsed.

"They're all going to die," Flack heard the woman say, the macabre words making his hair stand on end. A crowd began to circle round them like vultures, waiting for the words of death to continue. He heard one man shout something about false prophets being stoned and he began to shoo the crowd away like unwanted pigeons. Some flew at the sight of his badge, while others took a few steps back, watching the free entertainment. Angell, clasping hold of the woman, led her into the car where she collapsed, sobbing, as if caught in some nightmarish world where darkness had never seen light.

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