Note: The baddie in this fic is a psychopath who enjoys torture, murder, and manipulation. That being said, I do not intend to write any depictions of physical torture. That is not my milieu. I prefer the mystery and character study stuff, which will be the focus of this story, although the effects of the psychopath's actions will be described.
Chapter One: No Leads
Two Weeks Later
Frank Reagan ran his hand over his face. The past two weeks had been the hardest of his life. The weeks after the deaths of Mary and Joe had been a close second but this… Frank was sure he would go out of his mind if this continued much longer.
Two weeks ago, Officer Jamie Reagan failed to report for duty. When Danny, informed by his father of the situation, showed up at his brother's apartment to look for him, there were no signs of Jamie anywhere to be found.
Detective Reagan had knocked on so many doors that he lost count. He finally found one older lady in the apartment directly above Jamie's that mentioned a scream she heard in the alley, and although she thought she saw a young brunette woman, she couldn't be sure. The glasses hanging from her neck on a long chain clued Danny in on how reliable a visual account of incidents this woman would be able to relate.
When Danny went to the alley to investigate, he found the item currently sitting on his father's desk.
Jamie's cell phone had been placed inside a plastic sandwich bag with a sticky note attached that said: Please deliver to Police Commissioner Francis Reagan.
A text had been sent before Danny had arrived. It read: Be ready for my call.
Frank had not slept for three nights after that. He had allowed the phone to be dusted for prints but none had been found, not even Jamie's.
The phone had not left Frank's sight since. Whatever had happened to Jamie, it was obviously connected to Frank. What that connection might be was currently the focus of one of the most intense investigations Danny Reagan had ever been a part of.
Nothing had been found. No one had seen anything. The surveillance cameras that were placed all around Jamie's building had only caught the image of a small red sedan leaving the scene. There were no license plates, no visible faces, and no signs of Jamie.
It had all the makings of a dead end but none of the Reagans, nor any of those assisting in the investigation, were willing to give up yet.
How could they?
With a sigh, Frank closed his eyes and uttered the same prayer he had been repeatedly endlessly for the past two weeks.
"God, protect my son. Help me find him."
The ringing of a cell phone jolted Frank from his prayer. His heart leapt in his chest but he kept his composure as disappointment settled over him. It was his own phone, not Jamie's. He checked the name of the caller. Danny.
"Found anything yet?" he asked his eldest.
"Nothin' yet, Dad," Danny's voice betrayed his exhaustion and frustration. "Call come yet?"
"No," Frank replied.
"Dad, we shoulda heard somethin' by now, shouldn't we? I mean, the phone was left for you two weeks ago. Why haven't they called yet?"
"I don't know, Danny," Frank replied, his own tone matching his son's. He didn't dare voice the possibility that had been residing in the back of his mind since the first week went by with no word.
It was entirely possible that the plan that whoever was responsible had concocted had gone awry. If that had happened, then they might never hear from the perp. That was the worst case scenario, however, and Frank was not yet ready to voice this possibility.
"My guess is it's part of a strategy," Frank continued after a small pause. "Whoever this is, they want us as close to desperate as they can make us."
"Yeah, well," Danny commented, "I think it's workin'."
"If you can't keep a clear head, Danny-" Frank was interrupted by his son.
"My head's fine, Dad." His voice was firm now, unwavering.
"Alright, son. Just keep to your desk. I don't need any complaints of conflict of interest heading my way because you take to the streets with this."
Danny heaved a deep sigh.
"I know, Dad. I'll behave. At least until we have a name and address. Then I can't make any promises."
"Danny," Frank cautioned but Danny cut him off again.
"I can't stand this."
The quiet of his son's voice made Frank's heart break. He tried to think of something to reassure his son but he had no words. There was silence over the line for several moments.
"I know, son. I can't either." Frank heard the sound of his son sniffle over the phone. Danny wasn't the type to cry easily but this case was much too close to home.
"Let me know if anythin' changes, alright?" Danny requested.
"Sure," Frank agreed.
They said their good-byes. Frank knew Danny would continue poring over file upon file of old cases, looking for leads.
In the meantime, Frank went back to staring at Jamie's cell phone.
Then, the screen lit up with an unknown number. The call had finally come.