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Chapter 2

Nate's voice came back into his ear a moment later. "The luggage rack on Lucille is a flat piece of metal, wide enough for a person to lie on. Will that work?" One part of Eliot's brain was dealing with the conversation he was having with Nate, while he was working to make the young woman before him as comfortable as possible. As he really looked at her again, he realized she had passed out from the pain, but she was mostly stable for the moment, and he sat back to finish the conversation with Nate.

"Depends on whether I can strap her down so she doesn't fall off."

"Hardison is tearing an old shirt into strips so you can tie her down with that. He also has a wool blanket you can use to cover her. Do you want me to bring it all in?"

Eliot hesitated, knowing he would need help if they were to get her out of there without hurting her further. "Meet me at the front of the alley. I need your help, but we're going to preserve as much evidence as possible. I'll lead you in and show you where to step. I don't want her any more panicked than she already is."

"Does Hardison need to find her a hospital?"

"No," Eliot said, emphatically, and Nate was a bit shocked at the forceful tone. Hearing the pause on Nate's end, Eliot forced himself to speak more calmly, and said, "I'll explain later. I can do most anything she needs, I believe." He was walking toward the entrance to the alley as he spoke. A moment later, he saw Nate standing in front of Lucille, holding the supplies Eliot had asked for.

With a jerk of his head, Eliot indicated that Nate should join him. Together, they loaded the unconscious woman onto the makeshift stretcher, covered her with the blanket, and carried her out to Hardison's van. Eliot climbed into the back with her, while Nate drove, and they sped off toward Nate's apartment. When they got there, Nate and Eliot situated the woman in the treatment room, and then Eliot turned and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder.

"Thanks for your help. It's late. Brief the rest of the team on tomorrow's job, while I treat her. You can fill me in later."

Nate nodded once and left the room. When he was gone, Eliot turned back to the woman on the cot in front of him, to find her staring at him wide-eyed. She visibly shrank as he turned toward her. Instead of sitting down, he moved past her to the cabinets that ran along one wall. He opened and closed doors, gathering equipment, and without even looking, he knew she was watching him. He set a bowl out in the sink, and started running water in it. Opening a drawer, he withdrew a clean, soft cloth and tossed it into the bowl. Speaking softly to her as he worked, in a tone he hoped was soothing, he said, "My name is Eliot. I'm a medic, Sweetheart. I ain't gonna hurt you, I just wanna get you cleaned up so you can help us figure out where you belong, and we can get you back there. Okay?"

She nodded. He had turned away for a moment, and wasn't expecting her to speak. "Gabriella. Friends call me Gabby."

"Nice to meet you, Gabriella."

"I reckon you're about as close as I have to a friend right now. You might as well call me Gabby."

"All right. Gabby it is, then." He smiled, pleased that she was starting to calm down, and she smiled back.

When the bowl was about half full, he turned off the water, and carried the bowl over to the table that sat next to her cot. He seated himself in the chair next to her, and proceeded to use the cloth to wash the dried and somewhat sticky blood off of her face. Gently, he dabbed at the bruises, and then rubbed a salve on them. She was going to have one Hell of a shiner tomorrow. Maybe two.

As he worked, he casually asked, "What happened?"

Her voice shook as she said, "I'm not sure. I was supposed to be meeting someone—I think her name was Alice. My friend Peggy set up the meeting. She told me Alice could help me." Alice!? Peggy? Hmmm. Could be.

Looking her in the eyes, Eliot said, "I need to be sure you haven't broken any ribs. Can you take your shirt off for me?" She shook her head, a look of terror in her eyes. Eliot chose not to press the issue for the moment. Instead, he shrugged and started gently manipulating various joints, making sure nothing was broken. She groaned when he took her left arm, and from the feel of it, it had been broken before.

"What did you need Alice's help with?"

"I was in an abusive relationship for almost thirteen years—from the year I graduated from high school until about three months ago. I suspected my ex was into some shady stuff outside of our relationship, but I couldn't prove it. Please understand, I wasn't involved, and I didn't approve, but he told me if I ever tried to leave he'd kill me. Then, three months ago, I discovered something that made me suspect he was mixed up in something having to do with children, and I knew then that no matter what happened to me, I couldn't stay silent any longer. I had to get those poor babies some help. So, I waited until he went to work. Then, I cleaned the house from top to bottom and packed my things. I had been saving money along and along for years—not much—he never allowed me to work and only gave me enough to pay the bills and buy groceries, so he'd notice if too much went missing, but I managed to put away $5-10 every couple of weeks. I hated that it was his money that would help me escape, but I had none of my own, so I didn't have a choice."

She paused for a moment, wincing when Eliot touched a particularly painful spot on her other arm, but she gritted her teeth and refused to cry out. Smiling his charm-the-birds-from-the-trees smile at her, he said, "I'm trying not to hurt you, but it's okay to tell me if I am."

She shook her head, and said, "Force of habit, I'm afraid. He used to get physical when he got angry—he'd punch and kick and burn and do...other things, and I learned early that it got so much worse very quickly if I cried out, so I just tried to stay silent. It became something of a battle of wills. If he couldn't make me cry out, I hadn't let him win. I don't know if that makes sense."

Eliot nodded, working hard to reign in his anger. It made more sense than she realized. It was exactly how a person came to respond to long term torture over time. All he said was, "You're safe now. You have nothing to fear from anyone here."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm not safe here. I'm not safe anywhere. That's what this little demonstration was all about tonight. This was his way of telling me that I could come back or wait for him to track me down."

"You're not going back. We won't let that happen. And whether you believe it or not, you are safe here."

He started running his fingers down both sides of each of her legs—first the left and then the right—looking for injuries. None were readily apparent, and he didn't want to put her through the stress of taking her pants off in front of a stranger at the moment, at least, not without Sophie to help out, so he checked her for a concussion, not really expecting to find one, as her speech had been clear since their conversation started. When he was finished, he screwed the cap off of a large bottle and shook two blue pills into his hand. He picked up a glass of water with the other hand.

"Prescription strength ibuprofen. You aren't allergic, are you?" She shook her head.

"Then swallow these for me, and try to get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later." She swallowed the two pills, and then handed the water back to Eliot. He set it on the table next to her, and pulled a blanket up over her, patting her arm gently as he got her settled. When he was finished, he went out to talk to the rest of the team, closing the door softly behind him.

Nate looked up when Eliot joined them. "How's Parker?" the mastermind asked. It was then that Eliot remembered he hadn't actually told them the whole story.

"That's not Parker." They all stared at him like he'd gone mad.

Then, in a carefully controlled voice, Nate asked, "If that's not Parker, why is she here?"

"Think about that for a moment, Nate. Parker is involved in this, somehow. Her cell phone and her earbud were at the scene. That young woman—Gabby-was wearing her clothes. If we got the police involved, how do you think that would actually end?" Well, he had a point.

"Don't you think it's dangerous to bring a complete stranger here?"

"Not as dangerous as it would be to leave her there, and I wasn't about to do that. Besides, she's the only solid lead we have to Parker's whereabouts at the moment. The stress of the ordeal she went through still has her a bit confused at the moment, but I think she'll remember more as she rests and begins to heal. I want her where we can question her, and keep her safe at the same time. Parker isn't our only responsibility here."

Nate wasn't sure he agreed, but would defer to Eliot on this one. He knew the man did nothing without a good reason, and he trusted his hitter's judgement.

"All right. So, what do we do now?"

"I want to allow her to rest for a few minutes before we start asking her questions again. Sophie, when that time comes, I'll need your help." The grifter nodded. Eliot looked at Nate. "We'll need to report this, and we'll need to do it in such a way as to keep Parker out of it, if we can. Can Bonanno be trusted for something like this?"

Nate considered for a long moment, and then nodded slowly. "I think so."

"All right. Hardison, I need you to go back over Parker's calendar, all her emails. See if you can find any information on who she was meeting tonight and for what purpose. Look for anybody from her past who might have had a reason to take her."

"I'm on it," the hacker said, typing furiously.

"If you're going to fill me in on the mission, do it now. We won't have time later, probably."

"It can wait. This is a job we can't do without a thief."

"Then we'd better find her. And soon."

"Agreed."

As they were each settling into their tasks, the team's private line rang. It had to be Parker. Few people outside of the team had this number, and everyone outside of the team who had it knew it was a one-shot deal.

Hardison clicked something on his screen with his mouse, and then pointed at the phone. Sophie picked it up.

"Hello."

"So-so-sophie?" asked a feminine voice with a bit of a squeak.

"Parker, is that you?" Sophie asked. "Parker?!"

"Keep her safe, Sophie. Tell them. Keep Gabby safe." Sophie heard a brief struggle on the other end of the phone line, and then it changed hands.

"We have your thief. If you want her, await our call to discuss terms. No police or we'll kill her." The line abruptly went dead.