Sorry for the wait between updates – real life is a crazy sunofagun.
Vega looked up from her computer when the elevator pinged – "good morning, Agent Kemper," she said diplomatically as the rookie (Vega refused to acknowledge that because of her time in Humble she still technically had the least seniority) walked toward her. Her eyes briefly went back to the computer screen, then shot back to Theo when the look on the younger woman's face registered with her. "What is it?"
"Where is Cho?"
"What do you got, Kemper?" Cho asked, walking into the room right on cue. Lisbon and Jane looked up from the couch, where they were huddled over the newspaper articles about the Leigh Roy Brown case.
"Um..." Theo shifted her weight. "We're down to one missing person." She handed a file to Cho. Photographs were inside.
Vega jumped up. "Oh God," she said, her voice high pitched. She rushed over to Cho and ripped one of the photos from his hand. The blood ceased draining from her face when she realized that the body she was looking at was not familiar to her. "It's Brown."
Theo nodded solemnly. "They found him this morning. Estimated time of death around midnight last night."
"Just a couple of hours after they got Wylie," Cho said.
"Brown had no chance. He wasn't their best bartering chip anymore," Jane said. "There was no reason to keep him alive, and a very good reason for them to kill him."
"Because we now know that they will kill their victims," Theo said. "And they have an FBI agent. Much better tool for getting what they want."
"And if we don't look the other way when the freighter comes in tomorrow, they will kill him," Vega said, her throat tight, her voice still not sounding like itself.
"We'll find him before that," Lisbon said firmly.
"They must be at the docks," Cho said. "There's a ton of ships coming in and out of Houston. They're likely holding Wylie there. Everyone be ready to go in five. Lisbon, take Jane and Theo. Vega, you're with me."
"He's been missing almost eighteen hours now," Vega said. "The shipment comes in tonight. Why haven't they contacted us?"
"They know that we know what they want," Cho said, pulling into a parking spot. "They won't risk detection by contacting us." He glanced at her. "You know all this, Michelle."
She gave a shaky sigh. "I know." She nodded. "I know."
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Her nod became firm. "I'm a good agent, Cho."
He gave a small smile. "Yes you are. Let's go."
They exited the car and began to walk down the deck. "Let's check this boat out first, look for anything out of place."
Vega nodded again, her hand on her gun.
They were checking out the third ship in the row when Cho spun around and held up a hand. "You hear that?"
Vega stopped, listening. "Someone is running?"
"This way," Cho said, breaking into a run. Vega glanced around uneasily, then began to follow him. Cho raced around a corner, Vega almost to it when she heard another sound, and she dug her heels in and stopped, her eyes darting around the shipyard. Then she heard it again, a sharp yell, coming from the direction of a pier that was near the end of the lot. She took off in that direction.
She reached the end of the pier and held her gun at the ready, creeping around a large stack of boxes ready to fire. She peered around the corner and let out a sharp – albeit quiet – cry of surprise and fear.
A man – a tall, bulky man in a tank top and jeans was dragging something out toward the end of the pier, something chained up, something alive.
Someone Vega knew.
"Stop!" she shouted, her voice coming out hoarse as she jumped out from behind the boxes, aiming her gun at the man's head. He probably didn't hear her, but the rapid movement caught his attention. He turned to her and, with incredible speed, pulled out a weapon and fired.
Vega hit the ground, the bullet whizzing a few feet over her head, the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she realized where it probably would have hit her. When she rolled onto her side and finally fired, the man was running, yanking Wylie's body with him to the edge, out over the wager, and pushed it over the side.
"No!" Vega shouted, on her feet, her gun pointed at the man. He prepared to return fire, but it was too late. One of Vega's bullets hit him square in the throat and he went down. Vega took off in his direction, feeling nauseated again as she thought of Wylie, now weighted down, in the ocean.
Both their lives would have probably flashed before her eyes if they could have caught up to her. Vega sprinted down the dock, propelled by adrenaline. As she ran, she ripped off her jacket, glad that she never buttoned it up, and threw it, not paying attention to where it went, just needing it to be away.
Her shirt was a trickier question. That, of course, was buttoned. Vega had the top two buttons undone when she reached the end of the dock, and jerked one arm out of the sleeve as she dove. It was a mistake – she was tangled up in the shirt and unable to properly swim. Frantic, she tore at the shirt, assuming that the give she felt meant it had either ripped or the buttons popped off. It didn't matter, she was free. She swam downward, toward her struggling husband, coming up behind him and grabbing at the ropes around his hands. He thrashed at her touch – he didn't know it was her. Vega, her lungs already burning from the struggle with her shirt but knowing Wylie must feel as pressured to breathe as her, if not worse, she frantically pulled at the ropes - thankfully she had been wrong about what was being used to bind Wylie. She knew she couldn't have removed chains in time. Thankfully, for someone who could see the knots, they were not that complicated. Wylie was free, and they both kicked to the surface, gasping and peering at each other through their hair and the dripping water.
"Michelle!" Wylie said, grabbing onto the pier. She treaded water, pushing the hair that had come loose from her ponytail up on top of her head, paddling over to him and hanging on to him, resting her head on top of her hands, which were perched on top of one another on his shoulder. His left eye was swollen, he had a gash on his cheek, and he was pale – even for him – but he was here, he was back, and she was glad that he was using both hands to hold onto the pier because she felt that with the option to hold onto him, she might forget how to swim.
He tipped his head to rest on hers while they gasped, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. "What...where..." Wylie attempted.
"Which one?" she asked, pointing upward as her other arm stayed securely on the support.
"Kells," Wylie said. "Frasier took off the other way."
"Cho is on him," she said, sucking in one more deep breath. "Cho's got him." She pushed her forehead into his shoulder. "And I've got you."
Slowly but surely they made their way along the pier until they reached an emergency ladder. Vega climbed up first, then helped pull her husband up onto the dock. He slumped next to her. "Michelle, I don't feel so good."
She wrapped him in her arms. "We'll get you to a doctor, they'll check you out." She held him a moment longer, then reached for her phone. It wasn't in her pocket. She felt herself tense up - at this point she could feel her heart rate speed up almost before it did, and she frantically checked her other pocket. I put it in my pants pocket, I'm sure of it! Crawling away from Wylie, she frantically grabbed her jacket from where it lay and searched through it.
Nothing.
Then she felt a hand on her back, and she heard his voice. "Hey, hey, it's okay."
Her eyes welled up. He almost died, and there he was, kneeling behind her, recognizing that this was the very situation that brought about her panic attacks and trying to relax her. She turned to him. "I'm okay," she said, rising on her knees and putting her arms around him. Her teeth were chattering, and she could hear that his were too. Was it shock? The cold from the water? Both? It didn't matter - she could see Lisbon and Theo, a few hundred yards away, running toward them. Help was coming. "We're both okay," she said, holding him tighter. "We're both okay."
