Unintended Consequences

DISCLAIMER: White Collar belongs to Jeff Eastin and USA Network.

Grace had almost reached the entrance of the police station accompanied by Jones and Diana on either side of her when a sudden impact drove her forward and she crumpled to the ground, motionless.

Chapter 16

After flashing their badges to a police officer at the front desk, Jones and Diana quickly explained the situation. While one of the cops helped them carry Grace out the back and into a cruiser, another officer scanned the rooftops with binoculars, but the sniper was nowhere to be seen. Quickly settling into the police cruiser, the officer took off with sirens on; racing to the nearest hospital which he informed them was the Mount Sinai Medical Center.

Trying to balance himself in the speeding car and not having the ability to put his seatbelt on because Grace's legs were on his lap, Jones pulled out his phone to dial Peter and update him on the situation. When Peter didn't answer, he remembered that Peter couldn't find his phone earlier, and they hadn't had a chance to check the surveillance van they had been in earlier. He was going to have to do what he thought was best and inform Peter later when he was reachable. Jones knew it was obvious Grace had been targeted; he had no doubts this was not a random drive-by. Since it was obvious someone had found Grace, it was more than likely this same person had also been following Frank, and Jones was also fairly certain it was the painting this unknown assailant was after. The FBI willingly or not was in a race against time to find the original painting before this unknown shooter and any accomplices found the painting first and took out any innocent bystanders. He had to do something and quickly.

"Diana, I forgot Peter doesn't have his phone. He couldn't find it earlier after the drop. I need you to stay with Grace at the hospital while I check out the storage lockers. She'll be more comfortable when she wakes up and see's you instead of me."

Diana noticed that Jones chose to say when Grace wakes up and not if she wakes up. She realized she needed to stay positive as well. Grace was a strong woman and Diana really hoped she would pull through. If there was one thing Diana did not want to do today it would be breaking the news to Peter that after everything they had been through, his sister was dead because she and Jones had failed to sufficiently protect her. Diana shook her head to clear her thoughts and attempt to focus on doing her job despite the obvious reminder from the amount of blood that covered her that something had gone terribly wrong.

"That's probably true. Who ever took the shot must know she is able to identify them or are trying to send her a message and keep her quiet. I can't tell exactly where she was hit, but it's really soaking through this towel. Once things calm down I can try and call Peter at home from the hospital."

"That sounds like a good plan. Let me know when you get a hold of him. Until then, I need to check out these storage places."

"Ok. I'll keep you updated about Grace as well."

The police car screeched to a halt at the emergency room entrance and Diana tried to brace herself as much as possible so that the towel wouldn't be dislodged by the sudden stop. There were several nurses already waiting with a gurney as the officer driving had radioed ahead to tell them they were coming. The officer had already gotten out of the car to open the rear door and one of the male nurses lifted Grace out of Diana's arms and situated her on the gurney. Another nurse helped Diana out of the patrol car and asked her if she was hurt in any way, due to the sheer amount of blood on her clothes. Diana assured the nurse she was fine as they both followed the other nurses rushing the gurney into the hospital.

Jones was frozen as he watched Diana disappear through the doors following the nurses. How had he let this happen? What clues did he miss? He had already decided he didn't have time to stay when he saw the officer getting back in the car.

"Mind if I ride back with you? I need to get my car parked back at the station. I have a couple of leads I need to follow up on as soon as possible."

"No problem, man. Glad I can help, but you'll probably be more comfortable if you sit up front."

The officer got out and opened the door for him, and Jones slid comfortably into the passenger seat noticing for the first time that he did have a little bit of Grace's blood on him. This case was too important for him to go home and change; whoever was after the painting wouldn't stop for anything, and Jones wasn't about to let a few spots of blood slow him down either.

##

"Mind if I sit over here? I wouldn't want to disrupt any private conversation you were having."

Peter looked up to see a man about his own age holding a coffee mug in one hand and motioning toward a nearby plush chair with his other hand.

"Not at all, feel free."

Peter looked back over at Neal who had once again closed his eyes and lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Come on Neal, the coffee will wake you up and probably warm you up. I even got you a blueberry scone; don't let it go to waste."

Neal opened his eyes and sat up reaching for the coffee. He took several sips soaking in the warmth before he looked up at Peter.

"So what now?"

"Now we are going to relax a few minutes, you are going to warm up and we can both enjoy our coffee and scones. Once we leave here I'm sure it will be another crazy day and I need you to be awake and alert. We have to find this painting before someone else does."

"Anything's better than more boring mortgage fraud cases."

Peter chuckled.

"I can't say I disagree with you."

##

"I didn't know you FBI guys got up so early. What's so important in a storage locker that couldn't wait a couple more hours? Have you even had breakfast yet? Wait a minute."

The clerk looked Jones up and down noticing for the first time the blood that was streaking his suit.

"Is that blood? Are you ok?"

Jones gave the storage rental clerk a disapproving look and another of the FBI agents that Jones had called in to help snickered as well.

"People don't commit crimes only during business hours sir, and I haven't had time to change. As you can see we have the authorization we need so if you would open up the storage locker for us, we would really appreciate it."

The clerk whose faded name tag read 'Hank' did not seem to understand the urgency behind the situation, even after he had noticed the blood stains. Jones didn't bother to inform the guy that this was the third place they had been to already and they still hadn't found what they were looking for. Jones was getting worried that maybe they were too late. Maybe Grace had been shot because the painting had been found and she knew who the alleged thieves were.

Hank slowly moved around of the edge of the counter; the expanse of his waistline becoming visible. Jones fought back a laugh as he thought 'well that explains the sloth pace and the obsession with breakfast and food in general.' Bored by the excruciatingly slow pace, the FBI agents all spotted a golf cart Hank appeared to be headed toward. All three uttered a collective sigh of relief that maybe it wouldn't take all day to reach the storage unit in question.

Hank turned around when he reached the cart and saw the curious and slightly relieved gaze coming from Jones.

"You didn't think I was going to walk all the way there did you? Goodness no, climb aboard boys and hold on."

The three FBI agents climbed in and discovered true to Hank's word that they did need to hang on. In direct contradiction to his walking pace, Hank seemed to have his foot all the way down on the acceleration pedal as the electric cart careened around one corner and then another. Jones was suddenly glad that he didn't have breakfast because he wasn't sure how a full stomach would have handled this ride; of course Frank would have chosen the farthest possible rental unit.

Without any warning the same force applied to the acceleration pedal was now applied to the brake. The cart screeched to a halt and everyone in the cart was flung forward, muscles being stretched as grips tightened. Hank dislodged himself from behind the steering wheel as if nothing had happened. Jones was still trying to get his breath and unlock his fingers from the death grip he had on one of the cart's poles. The other two FBI agents didn't seem to be fairing much better. Hank had gotten the lock off and slid the door up when he noticed that Jones and his team hadn't gotten out of the cart yet, so he turned around to figure out what the problem was.

"I thought you guys were in a hurry! I don't know if this is what you are looking for, seems like it's all just collecting dust to me. Did you want me to wait and give you a ride back? I'm not sure what there is to find here, it all looks like junk to me.

Jones had finally managed to get out of the cart and take a few steps toward the storage unit.

"You know what they say. One man's junk is another man's treasure. It might take a while to go through it, and I think we'd rather walk back ourselves, thanks for the offer though."

"Whatever floats your boat I guess. Here's the lock, secure the door when you're finished. I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

"Yeah, me too."

Jones realized he had said that in a more sarcastic tone than he had intended; indicating a serious lack of sleep. Once he had gone through a few boxes, he was already exhausted and grumpy. Just a few more hours he reminded himself and hopefully it would be all over and he could take a nice long hot shower and settle into a warm bed. Until then though, he was going to have to sort through boxes of junk, sneezing suddenly as a liberated dust bunny from one of the opened boxes floated too near his nose for comfort. He sneezed again and at the same time felt a vibration on his hip, not realizing until it vibrated again that it was his cell phone ringing. Jones looked at the caller ID.

'Oh, great, he thought, what does Neal need now?'