Chapter 4: Getting the Girls

Joss began to turn right into a gravel road that took them further away from John's home. They drove for nearly 20 miles before the turned down a road with an address carved into the wooden post of the fence. The single level ranch house they approached was set back from the road about 200 yards.

"Over there by those trees," Lionel directed sitting next to her in the passenger seat. She drove past the house towards a copse of trees about a half mile away. She pulled the car in behind them, shielding it from view.

"How did you convince Zoe to stay back with Finch?" Joss asked John as they all exited the car and started to inventory their guns and ammunition.

John shrugged a shoulder and gave an evasive answer, "I just did . . ." pulling a small automatic from his equipment bag.

John tucked a gun into the back of his waistband as both Joss and Lionel each added a second gun to their respective ankle holsters hidden beneath their pants. Moving to close the trunk of the car, John grabbed a pair of binoculars.

"Let's go parallel to the street, see if they have any alarm triggers around the perimeter of the house . . . " John suggested.

John nodded and cautiously set off parallel to the road they had just driven on. They were cautious, trying to ascertain who was watching the area. They moved unhindered until John signaled for them to stop and motioned towards an area filled with tall grass that would provide them with the best view of the house.

From where they were, they could see a white van parked in front of the house, the interior was dark as if no one was home. "I don't detect any perimeter alarms; I think we're good to go."

Nodding their agreement, Carter and Fusco made their way to the back of the property, to identify their best and safest approach. As the crested the rise that partially hid them from the view of the house, Carter stopped, feeling Fusco's hand on her arm. He motioned that he was going to the right of the house and pointed that she should go left. Carter nodded and started down the hill.

At a crouch, John made his way to the front of the house, communicating with Carter and Fusco, he let them know that he was on his way in. John quietly stepped through the front door, leaving it open so as not to alert the occupants of the home to his presence. The front of the home was made up of the living room and dining room, typical of most suburban homes. He cautiously advanced with his gun drawn. To his right was the living room and on the floor he saw Roy Mullen, dead, with a gunshot wound to the back of the head.

Swearing, John's first inclination was to yell for his girls. He was hoping against hope that they weren't anywhere near the gun that killed this man. Taking a deep breath he flicked his ear bud on, "Fusco, Carter, Roy Mullen is dead, gsw to the back of the head . . ."

"Yeah, I've got Buddy Harris in the same condition back here," Carter called out. "John, I don't think the girls are here."

Fusco came back downstairs carrying two stuffed puppies. "They were here at some point."

Zoe felt her resolve fading fast. The walls she had erected once she had found out her girls were taken were starting to crumble. She was falling apart and she didn't know how to fix it. It was just her and John now. Carter and Fusco had gone home to their families, promising to come back in the morning and continue searching for the girls. They had offered Finch a guest bedroom, but he declined saying he probably wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. She had almost wanted all of them to stay to keep her mind off of what could be happening to the girls.

She was sitting on the floor in her office, in her flannel pajamas surrounded with file folders and stacks of paper. Something had to make sense she thought frantically, moving stacks of paper from one side of her to another. Pulling out folder after folder, open, shut, open, shut and on it continued.

This is ridiculous, why am I not out there looking for them? Zoe thought seeing red. With a new found resolve, she got up and went straight to her walk-in closet and started to throw things on. Dressing hurriedly, she pulled on a pair of cargo pants, a long sleeved hoodie, socks and boots. She pulled her ponytail through her baseball cap and was out of the closet like a shot.

Thundering down the stairs, she grabbed her keys from the hook by the garage. Almost twelve hours had passed since she had woken up to Joss standing over her, telling her that her daughters had been taken and they still didn't have the slightest clue who paid those men to take her girls and where they were now.

"Zoe? What are you doing?" John asked gently in a tone filled with concern, grabbing her arm to turn her towards him. He had woken up from his self imposed slumber to hear his wife in the closet getting dressed. Without her even noticing, he had followed her down the stairs calling her name several times and still she didn't respond. His heart sank as he looked into her eyes; they were frantic, desperate, and hopeless.

"Why aren't we out there looking for them, John? What good are we doing here twiddling our thumbs?" She asked in a tight voice that made John's eyes widen a bit in surprise. He hadn't heard that cool and almost unfriendly tone of voice from her in years now, and he had hoped that he'd never hear it again.

Turning her to fully face him, he held onto her arms, subconsciously trying to detain her. "Zoe, you know we are doing everything we can," he reassured her. "We will find them; it just won't do any good if we're all exhausted out of our minds."

"Let me go, John," she said through clenched teeth trying to get her arms free. "I will find them myself, you can sit on your ass here and sleep and wait; I won't do that. My girls need me. . . " she declared as she finally pulled her arms free.

"Zoe, you just have to be patient . . . " John still believed he could reason with her, although he was starting to think that he might need to forcefully restrain her.

Zoe looked incredulously at John. "Be patient?" How ridiculous it was to ask the mother of two stolen little girls to just sit still and be patient.

"I won't let you leave, you're in no state of mind to be out there . . . " he said as he grabbed her arm once more.

She felt rage building inside her. Trying to tug her arm free she shouted, "You won't let me? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm your husband, damn it. And I don't want you to leave right now. You aren't thinking clearly."

Moving with a quickness John hadn't been expecting Zoe shrugged John's hand off. "Try and stop me. . . " she challenged as she headed towards the garage.

Everything that happened next happened so quickly. John grabbed Zoe's arm once more. "Don't touch me." Unable to shake his hand loose this time, she tried a hard and certainly painful knee to his side; though it didn't hurt him, it did surprise him none the less and had him loosening his grip on her arm. The rage continued to build inside her. Helpless to stop it, it festered, and grew, rising up and choking her. Vision blurring into a crimson hue she heard an almost animal-like sound coming from her throat as she lashed out at the only available target.

The thud of her small fist on his face reverberated in the silent room. He turned his head aside, his face clearly in shock. In all the years he and Zoe had been together, neither one of them had ever lifted a finger in anger towards each other. A brief, strangled gasp escaped her, as one tear tracked down her cheek. When she looked up, she could see the stinging red mark on his cheek. He was still gripping her arm tightly.

"Get your hands off me," she said, her voice taking on a hysterical edge as she started pulling, "Damn it John; let me go!"

"No, Zoe. Stop struggling . . ." John said. He was afraid that in his effort to restrain her, he would inadvertently hurt her.

She pulled her arm free and ran towards the garage again; almost managing to get there when she was tackled to the floor. John rolled his body so that he would take the brunt of the fall. She landed on top of him, pummeling his chest with her fists, pushing him to the floor. "Bastard, let me go. I have to find them."

She heard the smack of his leg against the wall, but ignored it; and continued to swat away at his hands that were trying to restrain her. "They were taken on my watch, John. My . . . watch!" She cried and beat at him, and he finally was able to grab both her hands and rolled her beneath him, pinning her with his body.

"Zoe . . . honey . . . please . . ." John begged his wife, finally gaining insight and understanding as to the reasons for her behavior and state of mind. Guilt.

"I have to fix this John. I promised them I would protect them. . . " Weak, tired and distraught, Zoe finally stopped fighting him, breaking down into wrenching sobs. When John shifted his weight off her, she curled away from him, onto her side, tucking up into a ball and weeping into her hands. She felt him pick her up and cradle her on his lap and into his chest.

"Zoe, there was nothing you could have done. They drugged you." John quietly said as he rocked his wife as if she were one of his little girls; shushing her and rubbing her back.

"I have to fix this John; I have to find them . . ." she said softly into his chest.

"Zoe, our girls don't need a Fixer. They need their mother . . . "

Carefully laying his hand on her belly, he said softly, "The baby needs you to stay calm too okay?" An unexpected but welcomed surprise. They certainly hadn't thought it could happen again, given their ages and circumstances. But a month after coming back from their honeymoon, Zoe had finally given in and went to see her doctor.

"Please, Zoe, please, calm down. We need you."