Mirror

Chapter Two

"It was easier to be brave when someone needed your protection." - Robert Jordan

Commander McGarrett had thoroughly unnerved Amber, which meant she had begged off for an early lunch hour, citing a headache and general malaise that absolutely needed some caffeine and food. In truth, what she needed was a perhaps a few minutes by herself - or at least a few minutes on some beach somewhere, watching the waves break and roll until her mind quieted. It had been an unexpected moment of joy she'd found in Hawaii, when she discovered that simply watching and hearing the breakers roll against the shore eased a good many anxieties and heartaches. Her first stop had, indeed, been for coffee - she hadn't been kidding about the tension headache settling behind her right eye. It was as much for comfort as for the caffeine. Back in New York, she'd rarely gone a day without a nice hot cup and she couldn't shake the habit even here, though sometimes she had settled for iced coffee. Today, though, it was all about comfort and that was hot coffee, no sugar, and a touch of just plain cream.

She turned onto a busy street; Ala Moana Beach Park actually wasn't too far away from both her coffee stop and her workplace and, while it was usually busier than most places she liked to frequent, it would do. All she needed was a few moments in the sun, coffee in hand, and waves crashing in her ear. Her little white SUV navigated the city streets handily; she'd learned to drive in New York. Honolulu traffic, while crazy-busy, never fazed her and since it was earlier in the day, it was moving steadily if not quickly. At a stop-light, she quickly gathered long blond hair into a messy bun, turned off the air in the car, and rolled down the window. The car just seemed stifling and, while she waited for the light to change, her thoughts turned to Danny - and, of course, the mess that McGarrett had alluded to when he'd called to tell her to simply watch her step until they heard back from them.

He'd told her that it was likely nothing even as he had asked her how much she knew of Danny's brother's death. Like everyone else Danny had spoken to, she knew the bare bones and nothing else. Matthew Williams had been murdered, despite Danny's best attempts to rescue his fugitive brother from drug cartel's clutches in Colombia. Amber had her own guesses as to what happened and she had assumed that, due the rather unique circumstances of the death, Danny might never see his brother's murderers brought to justice. That, she had also assumed, had been part of the reason for Danny's downtrodden mood after returning from New Jersey. He'd called her once while he was gone and once just before he left; Amber had fought and finagled and finally pleaded until Danny had agreed to wait just long enough for her to see him before he boarded the plane with Grace after returning from Colombia. (Damnable place, in Amber's mind, if only because of this.) She'd seen Commander McGarrett there, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible while she said goodbye to Danny and Grace, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, leaning against the quarterpanel of the Camaro, and looking down at his feet with a frown.

She'd stayed for a few minutes after Danny and Grace had left; McGarrett had caught her on the way out and there had been a very short conversation. McGarrett had made sure she still had his number and vice versa – and then he'd told her to, in not so many words, keep her chin up. Amber tapped her fingers on the edge of the car door and smiled – a little sadly – at the memory. McGarrett had undoubtedly been concerned and grieving himself but his first thoughts were always with his team. It was no wonder Danny held him in such high esteem.

The light turned green and she turned left onto a busier street. The sun was shining brightly, as if in defiance of the storm that had taken hold of the island overnight and into the early morning hours, and she could see the ocean now before her. It seemed calm today: bright, cheerful, and open. Even in her anxiety, her smile grew, just by a little. Maybe after this was all over and things had settled down a bit, she could convince Danny that a picnic on the beach was just the thing for tired souls. (Okay, maybe not the beach but something out and about and relaxing.) She turned into the lot at the park, stopped the car, and sat for a moment before grabbing her coffee and her purse and stepping out into the bright sunshine. The air was humid and heavy, a holdover of the night's rain, but pleasant enough.

Amber had barely straightened her dress and pulled her purse strap over her shoulder when she heard the first footsteps behind her. McGarrett's words echoed a little too loudly in her head and her knuckles tightened over the coffee cup. She began to turn but a beefy hand closed over her upper arm and a metallic click sounded just behind her ear. Eyes wide, she froze. Cold metal brushed against the skin at the back of her neck and a thrill shot down her spine. Another hand – this one a little smaller, more deft than the meaty one clamped around her arm – pulled the purse strap from her shoulder.

"The keys in here? Phone too?" The voice was accented and, once again, McGarrett's warning rang in her head.

Amber's lips moved, but no sound came forth.

The muzzle of the weapon at her neck pushed into delicate skin. "He asked if the keys and phone were in your purse."

"Yes." The word was forced through breathlessness. "Yes. They are."

"Good." The purse was taken from her completely and the man holding her arm jerked her forward. Amber's coffee fell from suddenly nerveless fingers; hot liquid splashed against her bare feet and ankles, but she didn't flinch. She was marched to the passenger side of her car. "Get in. Don't speak unless we ask you something. Don't do anything stupid." The gun pressed into her neck again.

Still, Amber hesitated. At the open passenger door, she balked. That thin hand, deceptively strong, closed around the back of her neck. Across from her, the bigger man – dark complexion with startlingly light eyes and a shock of dark, dark hair – adjusted the driver's seat and dug around her in purse. Forcefully, the man behind her pushed her up against the car; the barrel of the weapon just moved into her peripheral vision.

"Do you see what I see?" He near-whispered it in her ear, his accented words coated with threat.

Amber swallowed hard as a man simply out for a stroll crossed her line of vision.

"If you don't get in the car, I'll shoot the first person who walks past."

Shaking, Amber did as asked.

Sergeant Duke Lukela dropped a smartphone into an evidence bag as a junior officer took the name of the owner, assuring him that as soon as they were done extracting what they needed, he could have the phone back, no harm and no foul. The man was a little shaken and self-recriminating, which honestly, Duke had little time for. The officer with him did a good job of soothing the man's nerves and ego; Mr. Henry Payne was visiting from Nevada and had seen what he described as a woman in trouble and had been too frozen with fear and trepidation to help. Far from it being a relaxing vacation, as was meant, Payne was in the midst of asking himself why he didn't do a damn thing to help.

Duke could give him all sorts of reasons and, honestly, he couldn't fault the average citizen for most of them. Even police, trained to react, often hesitated in the face of honest danger. If Payne was right and he had actually seen a gun trained on the woman – and not imagined it in the stress – then it was likely he might not have been in any shape to report any crime. Better a living witness than a dead victim, in Duke's eyes, so there was very little he could say to reassure Payne. Let the younger officer who had seen a little less do it.

He sealed the bag and turned his attention back to Payne. The tourist at least had the presence of mind to start recording the incident. Duke had every intention of getting the phone in and out of the crime lab as quickly as possible. If Payne was right, and Duke would act as if he was, then there was a woman in dire trouble. It might already be too late. Quickly speaking into the mike at his shoulder, Duke issued a BOLO for the make and model of the little white SUV Payne had described, as well as a general description of the woman and the two men with her, with the caveat that more information may yet come upon reviewing evidence. Honestly, it wasn't much but it was a start.

"How long do you think this will take?" Payne asked.

Duke shook his head. "I'll rush it. You'll be able to pick it up at the crime lab in a couple of hours. Is there another number we can reach you at?" Possible, perhaps through family or the hotel he was staying at.

Payne nodded and quickly rattled off his wife's number, which the junior officer scribbled hurriedly on a pad.

"Is there anything else you remember?" Duke asked, hoping against hope he'd jar lose some memory of, say, a license plate number or something else useful.

Payne worried his lower lip, dark eyes hooded, and finally shook his head. "Nothing beyond what I've told you already. She was kind of a tiny thing." Duke took that with a grain of salt; Payne himself stood half a foot again over six feet. Lots of people were tiny things to him. "White SUV. One of those little crossovers. Nissan, pretty sure."

Duke thought about revising his BOLO if Payne was only "pretty sure" of the make.

"Two guys. Uh..." Payne pointed toward where the SUV had been in the lot. "She got out with her purse and a cup of coffee. The bigger guy came up behind and grabbed her arm. The smaller one put a gun up against her neck." Payne pressed his lips together and Duke felt a twinge of genuine empathy; Payne was rattled and honestly concerned for this woman. "I mean... that's really all I saw. They forced her into the car and they drove off."

"Did they make her drive?" Duke asked.

Payne shook his head. "The big guy drove."

That kept total control in the hands of the men, and nothing in the hands of the woman. Smart, but it didn't give Duke much clue to motive. It did tell him that these guys probably had some idea what they were doing. That, if true, might make his job harder. Duke nodded at the answered question and let his gaze travel upward, as if some answer might be found in the bright Hawaiian sky.

Plenty of sunlight, peeking through the clouds leftover from the overnight storm. Not a lot of answers. Duke nodded again, as if thinking to himself, and thanking Payne for his time and attention. The junior officer took over then, playing PR-maven while Duke strode back to his squad car.

He had a little piece of evidence to get into the record. On his way toward the car, he stepped in a cooling puddle of spilled coffee – no sugar with just a little cream.

Amber met Grace's wide brown eyes in the rear-view mirror and instantly wanted to take back everything she'd done from the moment she'd left the office for that damnable breath of fresh air. Grace's eyes were wide and brilliant with unshed tears, her brows drawn together, and her mouth agape just enough to convey the very real terror that had settled into her heart – and Amber couldn't blame her one bit. Grace sat in the backseat of the SUV, far too close to the smaller man than either Amber or Grace was comfortable with but there was no choice. Amber still rode in the front passenger seat; her right hand was zip-tied to the door handle and her left clutched her knee so hard she left small bruises.

The fear in Grace's gaze left Amber's heart clenching in honest recrimination. Had she just been a little stronger, a little braver, just a little more stubborn, then Grace would not be in danger. Amber had balked when she realized what the men wanted her to do and then had been filled with a horrible dread when she had been informed what would happen if she did not go get Grace out of school – one way or another, she'd been informed. Just get it done and no one has an excuse just start start shooting into the school. One kid's life for dozens of others; that's how the choice had been phrased and Amber's breath caught in her throat.

"I"m going to shoot you first," he'd said. "Shoot you and then waltz right up those steps and gun down whoever I see first. Kid, teacher, I don't care. And then I'll just keep shooting at whatever moves in there. I have things that I need to do and you're not going to stop this."

And, damn her, but she had. She'd walked into the school, made up some excuse she couldn't even remember anymore, and led Grace like a sheep to slaughter. I'm so sorry, baby. She mouthed it into the mirror, hoping Grace at least understood it. The man behind her frowned and the barrel of the gun slid against her ribs from behind the seat. Amber tensed, eyes closing for a moment. When she opened them, Grace was looking back at her in the mirror.

It's okay. Her mouthed moved just enough and Amber choked on a sob. Out of the mouths of babes. Danny was going to kill her and he'd be justified in it. Amber's hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white where they rested against the door handle. The zip tie was too tight, cutting deeply into the skin and leaving welts on her wrist. She met Grace's eyes in the mirror again. Grace couldn't – and probably didn't think to – hide the honest plea for help, the fear, the trust there.

Amber took a breath. The muzzle of the gun pressed against her ribs. Once upon a time, Danny had trusted her to take care of Grace when he couldn't. She'd made a terrible mistake here and Danny was going to hate her but she was the only one in this car who Grace was looking to for help. "Where are we going?" she asked and damn her to hell when her voice wavered.

The driver glanced sidelong at her, brow raising. "Grow a backbone?"

Amber looked into the mirror again, drawing strength from the terror in Grace's eyes. "I want to know where we're going and what you want from us."

A hand fisted in her hair and yanked her head back. Amber hissed as her head was forced backward and then to the side uncomfortably. "And I want you to know that I'm going to kill you both if you don't shut up now," the man behind her said, his tone hard-edged.

Amber closed her eyes, choking on a terrified sob. She heard Grace's gasp and forced her gaze to seek out the mirror again. Tears stood out starkly on the girl's cheeks. "It's okay, Grace."

Her hair was yanked in warning. Tears welled in Amber's eyes. The hand moved from her hair and wrapped around her throat. The gun moved to prod at her jaw, just behind her ear. "Will you still talk if I rip out your tongue?"

She swallowed hard and damned herself (again) for the whimper. She fell silent, unwilling to meet Grace's eyes in the mirror for several long moments. When she did, Grace's unmitigated terror had her heart skipping beats. Danny was going to hate her. They could both die out here and it would be Amber's fault entirely. She tried to reassure Grace wordlessly, trying to soften her expression, trying to be a pillar a strength the girl needed but her heart pounded furiously in her chest. It stole her breath. Her hands shook. Pain settled in her swollen wrist; the hand on her throat tightened but Amber was barely breathing anyway.

The SUV slowed and turned left. Through the window, Amber saw they drove through the parking lot of a fairly respectable motel. It definitely wasn't the Hilton, but it was clean enough, well-kept, and close enough to a few fast-food restaurants and small grocers to be convenient. They parked next to a side entrance, well-hidden from the main road. The driver produced a key card from his pocket and the man who had his hand on her throat tightened his grip.

"Try anything and I'll shoot the kid."

Amber met Grace's eyes in the mirror. She nodded in understanding. She was unresisting as the zip tie was cut, didn't put up a fight as they all walked to the door. She didn't even hesitate as they began to climb the stairs at the side of the building. The stairs were carpeted, wide and inviting. There were no windows and the lighting was a little harsh. They passed the second floor landing; the door onto the main corridor had no lock and that's all Amber needed to see. The motel was only four stories high.

She didn't have much time.

As they passed the second-story door, Amber turned her head to seek out Grace. The girl's arm was held roughly by the smaller man, but he was paying almost no attention to her. Dark eyes were trained instead on the space ahead of them and a frown occasionally flitted across his sharp features.

Amber took a breath and tripped on the steps.

"The hell?" The big guy turned toward them but he was already a few steps in front of her and, as Amber had hoped, the smaller man started forward – probably to lift her up by her hair but the important thing was that he let go of Grace. As quickly as she could, Amber dove for the smaller man's knees. It was an awkward dive, nothing to be especially proud of, and driven more by gravity than anything else but it did the trick.

He and Amber landed hard and Amber set her jaw as her right arm folded awkwardly underneath her. White pain exploded behind her eyes, but a glimpse of Grace standing a few steps away, mouth agape and eyes wide, pushed it away.

"Hide," she hissed at Grace.

A hand coiled in her hair; the clip she'd used to gather it up earlier snapped painfully against her skull as she collided with a step. Grace took a few steps back; out of the corner of her eye, Amber saw the heftier man start down the steps, his square jaw clenched and close-set eyes fixed on Grace.

"Grace, go!"

With a gasp, the girl turned on her heel and bolted for the nearest door: the second floor door into the main corridor. Amber reached out, crying out as she moved her right arm, and snagged the man's ankles as he tried to step past her. He cursed, arms windmilling wildly as he tried to regain his balance. Amber scrambled to get her feet underneath her, leaving a handful of hair in the smaller man's grasp.

She went in the only way open to her: up the stairs. Right arm pressed against her abdomen, Amber scrambled forward. A hand – she didn't know whose – closed on her ankle; she fell as her foot was yanked from underneath her. Unable to catch herself, her chin clipped the stair hard. Her vision swam dangerously. Nearly sobbing, she pushed herself up.

Amber barely had a glimpse of the meaty fist before it connected with her cheek.

"Do we seriously have nothing?"

Steve rolled his neck uncomfortably, brows drawn together in concern as he regarded his partner and thought about how best to answer that question. "It's not nothing."

"Don't patronize me, Steve." Danny sighed heftily. He leaned over the table in the bullpen and idly tapped at the screen. "The guy in the barrel was some poor homeless man off the streets. CSU picked up absolutely nothing in my place, aside from a partial shoe print and Lord knows that really helps. Chin's got how many hours of traffic cams to pour through to maybe find nothing and there's no sign of forced entry at my place and don't tell me that maybe I forgot to lock it."

Steve winced at that. Some poor CSU tech had suggested that very thing and that had gone over about as well as a lead balloon.

Danny sighed again and gestured toward the screen, fingers curled as if he imagined some poor soul's neck in his grip.

"We can go through known associates..." Steve began, trailing off as his cell rang. Thumbing the line open, he answered after a quick glance at the ID. "Hey Duke."

Immediately, Danny's full attention was on him.

Steve's face fell as Duke's words registered. He reached up and rubbed a hand over his mouth, which had Danny abruptly on edge. If Danny had tones, Steve had tells and that was one of his. "You're sure, Duke?"

"Sure of what?" Danny asked, voice soft but hard. Steve held up a hand, not impatiently, but his expression was definitely trending toward major concern. Danny's own phone rang before he could say anything else. He answered almost absentmindedly, never tearing his gaze from Steve's face.

That is, not until the administrator at the Academy of Sacred Hearts said what she needed.

Blood drained from Danny's face and he clutched at the edge of the table, knuckles white as the words registered. When he didn't answer for a long moment, the woman on the line repeated his name – again and again.

He was staring at Steve, eyes wide. "Grace," he breathed, anguish in every sound.

Steve's hand encircled his arm. He spoke quickly and urgently to Duke even as Danny managed to actually exchange a few words with the principal of his daughter's school. Training took over; instinct kicked in. He repeated the words he heard to Steve, who relayed them to Duke.

And then Steve was leaning into his personal space, a hand on each arm. "Amber was carjacked."

Danny forgot how to breathe.

TBC

Author's note: I am not going to be around much this weekend, so I'm letting another chapter run free. I'm only mildly sorry for the cliffhanger. I hope you all enjoy and, while I haven't been able to respond personally to each reviewer, please believe me when I say that each and every review, favorite, and follow brings a smile to my face.