White Collar: The Nightingale
Chapter Twenty-eight
"I'm coming with you." Peter said firmly.
"Um..." Jones replied uncomfortably.
"Honey," Elizabeth said gently "you're in no condition to go anywhere. I know Neal is your friend..."
"He's more than that, he's my responsibility."
"We'll find him, Peter." Diana assured. "You need to rest."
"I'm fine."
Trying to demonstrate that he was able to participate Peter attempted to get out of bed. Even though he already had the head of the bed up he was only able to get as far as leaning forward in preparation to sit up before the broken bone in his chest protested. Laying back Peter took a second to catch his breath. Looking concerned Elizabeth put her hand on his arm.
"Okay...maybe I'm not 'fine'." Peter admitted. "Get to his place before the Marshals trample all the evidence."
"Got it, Boss." Diana nodded.
Peter watched Jones and Diana leave, wishing he could go with them. He tried once more to get to the edge of the bed, but Elizabeth stopped him with a glare before he could do any more damage.
"You need to trust your team, Peter."
"I know. I just don't like being on the sidelines."
"I'm sure Neal is fine, he's crafty."
"To a fault." Peter said ruefully. "I just hope he was the one who cut that anklet. A lot of people are interested in getting their hands on the Nightingale, he would be a good place to start."
"You sound like you blame yourself."
"I should have insisted that he be admitted to the hospital, or at the very least be taken to a safe house rather than sent home."
"Would now be a good time to point out to you that you were unconscious when that decision was made?" Elizabeth asked.
"I was?"
"You were." Elizabeth confirmed. "So you can hardly be blamed."
"I guess there is nothing I can do about it now anyway."
"You can get some rest so that you are ready when the time comes."
Peter smiled sadly as Elizabeth leaned over and kissed his cheek. Despite only being awake for an hour he was exhausted. He fought actually falling asleep in case someone called, however it didn't take him long to lose the fight.
When Peter woke again he could hear Diana and Jones quietly talking with Elizabeth. Opening his eyes he had to blink against the intrusive morning light. Jolted awake by the time that must have past Peter instinctively tried to sit up. This time he battled through the initial pain and managed to swing his legs over as he sat up on the edge of the bed.
"Peter..." Elizabeth rushed over in alarm.
"I'm okay." Peter assured. "What did you find?"
"There were no direct leads to help us find Caffrey," Jones said "but there was evidence of a struggle."
"We've run everything through preliminary testing." Diana added. "Blood spatter reports indicate an attack by more than one intruder. Quick tests show the blood is male and O negative."
"So most likely Neal's. Where was it found?"
"Um...everywhere." Diana said sadly.
Diana handed Peter a folder with eight by ten printed digital photos. Opening the folder Peter leafed through them. The photos started near the bed where there was an impact smear of blood on the wall. A scattered trail lead across the floor along with a few scuff marks from the attacker's shoes.
Peter's breath caught in his throat when he flipped to the next photo. Neal's antique kitchen table had been hastily cleared and was dripping in congealing blood. The tracking device and the note were also in the photo, but Peter was having difficulty seeing anything other than the ominous red stain.
"The pool on the kitchen table suggests someone held him down and reopened his side." Diana reported.
"Torturing him for the location of the Nightingale." Peter added quietly. "Something he doesn't know."
"Actually, he might." Jones said. "There were long black hairs from a women of Asian decent found on the pillow on his bed, as well as a set of women's clothing soaked in A positive blood in the trash in the bathroom."
"I'm guessing Zhang was A positive." Peter said. "If Hsing was there when someone broke in she must have been hiding, they must not have known she was there."
"What makes you say that?" Jones asked.
"Because if they wanted something from Neal they would have hurt her instead. It would be a lot more effective." Peter pointed out. "Besides if they found her they'd have what they wanted, and they would have killed him."
"So the girl is probably still out there. She would have left after they took him."
Taking his eyes off the photo of the bloodied table Peter went through the rest of the photos. The kitchen counter was oddly covered in cereal. It wasn't until he noticed a pair of tin snips in another photo that he guessed that Neal had hid them in the cereal box for a rainy day. Finding a photo with the couch he noted a dark patch on the blue fabric that could easily be a blood stain.
"Or they left empty handed, she patched him up, then she spooked, and he went after her." Peter said as held up the photo of the stain on the couch. "What else was at the scene?"
"There was a note on the table with the anklet, but it doesn't make much sense and it doesn't look like Caffrey's handwriting to me."
Jones handed Peter an evidence bag with a bloodstained torn piece of paper in it. Peter flipped the bag over to read the note. The simple two word note was written in an oddly slanted flowing style that had a carefully practiced feel to it. The note didn't give him all the answer, but it shed some light on Neal's motivation.
"Peter?" Jones asked as Peter continued to stare at the note.
"This is Neal's handwriting."
"Really?"
"It's his left handed handwriting." Peter replied confidently. "I can't actually prove that, but I've come across it enough while chasing him to recognize it."
"Do you know what it means?"
"'Pis aller.'" Peter read the note aloud.
"Latin?"
"French...a move of last resort."