Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.

Washington, airport, still inside the jet.

"Relax, Ilsa, thanks to the general this will be very uncomplicated. We'll go to the meeting he arranged, present the contact from the Pentagon what we found and he'll hopefully know whom to inform." Winston tried to keep his usually worrying self quiet. Ilsa was on edge enough already.

Unfortunately she had been working with the team long enough not to be fooled that easily.

"When has anything ever gone uncomplicatedly?", she asked, knowing full well that all sorts of catastrophes could break out, once they set foot on solid ground again. "Nothing is ever easy."

Yes, she was scared. And she hated herself for it. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? And now that she had it, she…

Winston took her hand and squeezed it gently. "It's okay to be afraid", he told her. "Remember, all we need to do is make it to the meeting."

… … …

Saint Francis Memorial.

"Blunt force injuries of the neck, petechiae that speak of asphyxiation, very specific ligature abrasions…" The doctor watched Chance closely. Could he stomach it?

"Define specific."

Yes, he could.

"The suspension point caused the ligature furrow to rise to one ear…"

Chance shook his head in disbelief.

"Severe obstruction of the carotid arteries…" The doctor paused, deciding the man in front of him had heard enough bad news for the moment. "Look, she was very, very lucky. When cerebral circulation is severely compromised death occurs over four or more minutes from cerebral hypoxia, although the heart may continue to beat for some period after the brain can no longer be resuscitated… Had she been found any later, she would have ended up in a persistent vegetative state."

"Are you sure that no signs whatsoever point to a murder attempt?", Chance asked once more.

Now it was the doctor's turn to shake his head. "Her hyoid bone is intact. The skin on her hands and arms displays neither bruises nor scratches. Not a hint of defensive wounds. She doesn't even show fingernail marks in the neck area… A lot of suicides change their mind in the last minute and struggle to pry the rope off after all. She didn't. Tells me she was very determined."

"A sedative maybe?"

"Tox screen was negative."

Chance sat down. "Are there any signs of…?" He let the sentence trail off, couldn't bring himself to say it.

"No signs of sexual abuse either." The doctor put a hand on Chance's shoulder. "Concentrate on the positive side of it. She'll make it and there won't be any permanent damage. I'm going to place her on a 72-hour hold and I strongly suggest you get her professional help afterwards. Heed that and she most likely will be alright again. A surprisingly high percentage of people attempts or at least contemplates suicide at least once in their lives. This is not the end of the world. Be there for her and things will work out."

The doctor walked off, leaving Chance to his thoughts.

Ames, what did you do?

He got up, walked outside in desperate need of fresh air, pulled out his mobile and called Guerrero. What he had to say wasn't helping either: "DNA on the rope is hers. The hotel room's window can't be opened, the door was locked from the inside. Surveillance cams show no intruder whatsoever. Had the idiot in the next room not set his bed on fire with a cigarette, she'd be dead meat right now."

Guerrero's voice was reduced to a low growl. Like a wolf's right before attack. "What has she been thinking?"

"This doesn't make any sense." Chance started pacing down a winding path in the hospital's park. "We know she was kidnapped yesterday evening. She somehow escapes her kidnapper mere hours later and has nothing better to do than hang herself?"

"If she did that out of feeling guilty…"

Chance wasn't sure what Guerrero had originally planned for Alejandro, but he was most likely making adjustments right about now. "I don't think so. Alejandro was getting better when she walked out of Grace's office. Had he died, then maybe, but with him recovering? And we can't keep the kidnapper out of the picture – she manages to run and then wants to die? That's against all instinct and everything we know about her. She's a survivor. Why didn't she call us?"

One moment.

Call.

They had found Ames' smartphone by the bench, she must have lost it in the struggle with the kidnapper. But when the nurse had handed him her personal belongings, there had been… "Hang on a sec."

He hectically riffled through the brown paper bag. There it was. A cheap, prepaid cell phone. Chance activated it – not even a PIN code was required – and looked at the list of calls she had made.

Nothing. The list was blank.

No received text messages either.

But a sent one!

Gonna do it. Make sure it works.

Chance stared at the words. Gonna do it? Make sure it works?

What the hell…?

But sense or no sense, Ames had sent this somewhere. "Guerrero, I need you to track a phone."