Chapter Thirty-two: I Promise You

The agent from the Federal Bureau of Investigations arrived exactly two hours later, just shy of the end of shift. Speed managed to get the rest of his work done in the last two hours and was happy to know that test results would be waiting in the morning when the machines finished during their jobs. Maybe, just maybe, when he came in the next morning there would be an answering staring him in the face. There had to be something…things were getting dire; days passing since they had last seen Hagen and that usually didn't bode well. For all he knew Hagen could already be dead and his body disposed of. It wasn't exactly the loveliest thought but it was a rational one. He was just going off the information that he'd gathered over the last few years on the job. Without ransom calls and any other signs of contact it was usually a poor prognosis for the victim. Though there were rare cases where ransom demands had been made even though the victim was well beyond help. He just hoped that they would find both officers before either one of them ended up in that situation, or it would haunt him.

And he was already having trouble with his job, with sleep, with life in general. The last thing he needed was dead officers weighing on his conscious. Hopefully this agent would be able to shine some new light on the case. He took one of the empty chairs at the table, positioning himself across from Horatio, noticing that the chair must have been left for him. The others were already in place. He frowned, wondering why nobody wanted to sit across from their boss near the head of the table. Maybe it was just a matter of sonority.

"Thank you all for coming," the agent started. He was dressed in a dark suit making him appear like the stereo-typical government agent. "My name is Matthew Lassiter and I'm here to help you get an understanding of Brian Hutt. I will be recounting the history of his group and the crimes we have been able to link to them. Questions are always welcome, especially if it helps you get a better understanding of what and who you are facing. Now from what I understand this group has targeted the crime lab. This is the first time that the branch in Florida has done anything considerably drastic. Usually they just protest, write letters. That is why we believe that Mr. Hutt is here in the state. Kidnapping not one but two officers of the law is a big jump from peaceful protest. Though Lieutenant Caine has allowed me access to the files, which I have read, I would like to hear from you guys about the crimes. You gathered the evidence, processed the scene."

Calleigh started with the recount of the day they learned Hagen was gone. It snowballed fast from there on how the three cases they were working had ended up being linked, the victims having been members of the group at one point. Then they were talking about the most recent case, the loss of Officer Jesup, and how it had gone down at the beach. Agent Lassiter listened attentively, writing down notes in the notebook he had placed on the table. Speed could easily glance at the white paper and see what the other was writing but he didn't really care at that point in time. He kept thinking about the one thing that none of them had mentioned, the one thing that all of them seemed to have forgotten. Not that he cared to have it brought up in the first place.

But then Jake went and opened his mouth. "We should actually be counting ourselves pretty lucky. That man," he pointed to Speed, "actually had an encounter with one of the group members."

The agent looked at him, the expression on his face unreadable. "Is that true?"

Speed slowly nodded. "Yes…but the guy wanted out of the group. He was going to tell us things about their plans, what they were doing with our missing detective…"

"But?"

"He died."

"Did he threaten you?"

He felt a good chill settling over him, the room growing dark as the walls started to close in. I could kill you. I should just shoot you and get it over with. The words echoed in the recesses of his mind. He tried not to remember that day with everything that he was but…now they were forcing him back, asking him questions, making him see those frantic eyes. Once again he felt the pressure building in his chest as he recalled how the man placed the barrel against the scar there. It all came rushing back over him in a massive sweeping wave. He could feel himself choking up despite wanting to keep his cool. But how could he with those words bouncing around in his head? I could kill you…

"Speed?" Horatio always worried about his wellbeing. "Tim, are you okay?"

No, he wanted to shout, no I'm not all right. I'm never going to be okay. He wanted to shout it at them, to open his mouth and let the words escape but he couldn't. All he could was think about was the gun pressed against his chest, the pain of the bullet ripping through his body, the warmth of the blood as his life force began to fade. He was mixing two events but none of the mattered to him. All he saw was the gun. All he heard was the sound of the trigger being pulled, the bullet free. All he felt was the pain.

The pain.

His chest hurt almost to the point that he was having trouble breathing. He heard the sound of a chair moving, footsteps on the floor. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder but instead of giving him comfort like it was intended it only made him feel worse, spooked him. He felt the way that man touched him, heard his threatening words; I could kill you. Then he was moving, his chair falling to the floor with a clatter as he made a beeline for the door. All of a sudden the room was too suffocating, the walls to close. He needed to be free, to escape the pain. Like a zombie in some movie he stumbled around the halls of the lab before he finally felt the cool caress of the wind on his skin. At some point he had stumbled out into the cool Miami night, the wind bringing him crashing back to himself. He fell to the ground on his knees, his body shaking, a thin layer of sweat on his body. He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, the overwhelming sense that he was going to cry but he forced it back, held the emotion locked deep inside. His mind was still a jumbled mess, random things popping out at him.

He could only imagine what the others thought of his reaction, his quick escape from the room.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. "Tim…"

He looked to his side where Horatio had come to crouch beside him, worry clouding his blue eyes.

"Speed, talk to me."

When he managed to speak his voice came out barely more than a whisper. "Fine…" he croaked. "I'm just…fine."

"Please, don't lie to me, Tim."

He closed his eyes. "I just…I could feel the gun…and…"

"Speed…"

At some point the tears had managed to break free, rolling down his cheeks. He hugged himself, wondering if he would ever be okay, wondering if maybe he was going to lose his mind. Horatio fell to his knees, pulling Speed into his embrace once again to give him comfort. "Please, Speed, promise me that you will get help. Promise me."

How was he supposed to tell his boss that he had been getting help? That the help wasn't doing him any good because he could not open up the way he needed? "I promise," he said, knowing that the words were hollow. "I promise to get help…"

But could anyone be of help to him?