Chapter 2

By woundedhearts

Zack tossed and turned, the bed sheets twisting around his legs, constraining him. Deep in the realms of slumber, he replayed the events of the previous day over and over again. His brother was in danger and no matter how hard he tried to maneuver his way through the crowd, he couldn't reach him in time. Cody's call for help, frantic with fear, invaded his thoughts.

"Will he be alright?" asked a male voice.

Zack couldn't make out who was speaking. The voice sounded so far away, as if he were trapped in a tunnel of some sort.

"We have to run a few more tests and wait until he wakes up. If all goes well, then he will be released soon," said another male voice Zack didn't recognize. "I have to go, but the nurses have orders to contact me as soon as there is any change."

"Thank you, Doctor."

As Zack thrashed among his sheets and the doctor left the room, Maya turned to Moseby. "Have you called his parents?"

"I contacted Carey," Moseby said, his usually composed expression showing worry lines across his forehead and around his mouth. "She and Kurt will be here in a few days."

"Mr. Moseby, are you alright?"

"I don't understand this. Why Cody?" Moseby said aloud, to neither Maya nor the unconscious Zack. "He's just a kid. What could they possibly want from him?"

"I don't know."

"Codes…"

"Zack!" Maya leaned over Zack, relieved to see his eyes open. "Mr. Moseby, he's waking up."

"Zack," Moseby echoed before hitting the call button.

Zack's head felt heavy and the pounding worsened when he opened his eyes to a blinding light. Raising a hand to shield his face, he tried to listen to what Moseby and Maya were telling him. But the pounding wouldn't stop, and he covered his ears trying to drown out the noise around him.

"My head," he groaned. His eyes shifted from Maya to Moseby, then back to Maya as his heartbeat revved with panic. "Maya, when did you get here? What time is it? What day is it?"

"It's three o'clock on Tuesday," Maya said, brushing her fingers over his hand. "I took an earlier flight and arrived here around noon. Mr. Moseby was just on his way to the hospital when I got to the resort."

"Do you remember what happened?" Moseby asked him just as the doctor and a nurse hurried into the room.

Immediately they checked his vital signs and finding no cause for alarm, continued their inspection by asking questions.

"How's your head?"

"It feels like someone is drilling a hole in it," Zack answered.

"That would make sense. You took quite a fall."

"I need an aspirin." Zack's eyes had finally adjusted somewhat to the light, but when he tried to sit up a lightheaded swirling sensation forced him to stay still.

"Dizzy?"

"Slightly," he replied, placing his arm across his forehead. "Don't tell me, that's also a side effect of the fall?"

"I'm afraid so. I think we'll let you rest for now."

"I can't sleep anymore," he said, looking around. "I had the strangest dream. Where's Cody?"

"You don't remember?" Maya asked.

"Is he getting me something for this headache?"

"Zack, what was your dream about?" Moseby asked.

"I'm curious to know the answer to that as well." A tall man with a suit walked into the room at tat moment, holding out his badge. "I'm Police Chief Edwin Hawthorn."

Zack looked at the man, then back at Moseby and Maya. Every part of him came alive with a start. The merchants, the crowds, the van, and those men forcing his little brother into it. None of it was a dream. All of it had happened. Instantly his mind raced with details. Starkest of all, he saw Cody, his face contorted with fear as he collapsed onto the floor of in the van seconds before it sped away down the narrow, busy street.

"I need to see Cody."

"Zack, you can't." Moseby placed a comforting hand on Zack's arm and readied himself for an outburst. But Zack stayed still. He seemed to be processing everything that had happened.

"Cody was kidnapped," he added, more as a statement than a question.

"Do you remember what happened?" the police chief asked.

"I don't know. I was too far away. All I remember is hearing is Cody calling my name and begging me for help. I ran, but I couldn't get through the crowds fast enough. Suddenly I saw him, and he was being bullied into a van of some kind. I tried to stop them, but some guy came at me and I couldn't get to him. His face, he was terrified. I couldn't get to him."

Everyone stayed silent for a few minutes, unsure what to say. Each could tell by the expression on Zack's face how guilty he felt for not being able to save his brother.

"Is there anything specific you can remember?" Hawthorn asked. "The color, make and model of the van perhaps? Anything distinguishing about the man who attacked you? Every little bit helps."

"No, I just remember the van and Cody's face."

Hawthorn studied the young man's face. Something nagged at him just below the surface, that much was clear. Had he seen more than he was letting on? Could he identify the men? If that was the case, then Hawthorne needed to make some calls. Now. Still, he hesitated. Maybe he honestly didn't remember.

Years of experience had taught him one thing: don't dirty your hands until you have just cause to. Even the smallest infraction could come back and bite you in the ass. A dead teenager from the mainland would not go unnoticed and with what had happened to that Holloway girl in Aruba, Hawthorn could not afford to take any chances on a worldwide investigation. Too many eyes would be dangerous, far too dangerous to even contemplate. He needed to buy his time, give the kid some breathing room.

Zack waited for the next question, but surprisingly Hawthorn seemed to be finished because he closed his notepad and placed it back in his jacket pocket. There was something odd about him that Zack couldn't pinpoint—a strange thought, since he didn't know the police chief, had never seen him before in his life. He leaned back against his pillow and rubbed a hand over his eyes, wondering how to explain his odd feeling without jeopardizing the investigation. His eyes felt sandy as images of the kidnapping raced by again.

"I'll leave you for now, but I'll be back soon when you've had a chance to recuperate a bit." Hawthorn smiled when he said this, and something about that smile reminded Zack of an old movie he'd watched as a kid. Scenes from How the Grinch Stole Christmas ousted the kidnapping filled with the Grinch's grinning green face. Zack had to shake his head a couple of times to clear his mind, but a sneaking suspicion replaced it. While he had no reason to mistrust or misjudge this so-called police chief, he couldn't stop himself from doing so. Once the man had left, he actually felt relieved.

"I just had the oddest thought," Moseby told the two occupants in the room.

"What was it?" Maya asked.

Moseby looked at her, then exchanged a glance with the boy in the bed. He recognized that look, and he knew that he was thinking along the same lines.

"I think I'll make a call to an old friend of mine."

"Who?" Zack asked.

"His name is Jack Matthews. He's a PI on the island and an old college friend of mine. He's the best in the business and we could use his expertise."

"Will he be able to find Cody?" Zack immediately sat up straighter at Maya's question.

"I won't promise anything, but Jack is the best at what he does. I'll leave it at that."

AN: It was hard to write this chapter because most of what I wanted to incorporate had already been done wonderfully in owlhero's chapter. So its short and too the point. LOL! : )