Misconceptions pt. 27
Jason stood in the car, leaning against the opening and scanning the area slowly. His men were scouring the crime scene, doing their jobs carefully and efficiently. He crossed his arms over his chest as his eyes fell on his partner. Mike was over with the girl and he was talking a lot. He sighed, feeling a nervous twist in his gut. Natalie was stoney and silent, and looking very annoyed as his friend pushed for answers. He didn't really want to think about those either, because this McBain drama was spilling over onto him. If he did his job the way he should, then he would be screwing over three of the most important people in his life. He would probably be sending his best friend's brother to prison, along with his curvy sidekick. But could he do that? He didn't think so, and that made him mad. It made him furious at Michael for putting him between a rock and a hard place, one that he never asked for or wanted.
Blowing out a quick breath, Cameron turned to the dark pool on the floor. That was a lot of blood. A lot of blood. He shook his head, praying the cop pulled through. His hard stare found the girl again, who was as unreadable as ever. It seems as though embezzlement wasn't the end of her criminal aspirations, because she would likely be booked for attempted murder. The only problem is that when he looked at her he had a powerfully nagging sense of doubt. She was manipulative and conniving and deceitful. But is she a murderer?
It's more likely that it was an accident. She probably got cornered or surprised by the patrolman, and fired the weapon by mistake, but Agent McBain had his handywork all over this. No doubt about that. The man was either directly involved with the shooting, or is a witness. He frowned, hopping to the dirt. God, what are they going to find here? Hopefully no evidence to point to the Fed? That would be bad on his family - on Jason's second family.
"Detective?" a uniform asked, approaching cautiously. He could see his boss thinking through some heavy thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"The area is photographed and tagged."
Jason blinked, processing the information. "What about the other side of the train car?" he asked, despite his better judgement.
He was confused. "Sir? The scene is over here."
Sighing, he bit his lip. "Finish up and then process the otherside of this track. Understand?"
He nodded, and walked away quickly.
Jason wished he understood. His legs took him beneath the train. He scanned the dirt carefully, not really sure what he was looking for? If he was going to deal with arresting and prosecuting a Buchanan and possibly a federal agent, then he was going to be very, very thorough.
"Come on, Natalie. Just tell me what happened here?" Michael was getting nowhere with her and it was driving him crazy. "I want to help."
She almost laughed. "You want to help," she repeated, shaking her head, "and what brought on this sudden change of heart?"
"My brother," he replied, truthfully.
She frowned. "What about your brother, detective? He has nothing to do with this."
He knew she was lying. "He cares about you. You matter to him. Let me help the both of you."
This time she did chuckle. "Listen, McBain. I'm not sure what tactic you're trying with me here, but I wouldn't bother. I don't talk to cops, local or otherwise."
Mike wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. She was playing dumb and that wasn't going to fly, not this time. Not with a wounded officer at the hospital, and certainly not with his blood cooling on the dirty floor of an abandoned train. "The stakes are a hell of a lot higher now, Natalie. I get why you're suspicious, but I won't let you drag John down with you. The only way to stop that from happening is to keep you out of prison. So tell me something I can damn well use!"
She stared long and hard. He was sincere...angry, but definitely sincere. Something has changed in him since they last spoke, and she figured that something was a federal agent with amazing blue eyes? However, she also remembered John's parting words to her. ...don't talk to anyone... So she wouldn't. He was the only one she trusted, with her life and her heart.
After another moment of intense silence, he bit his lip and spun around. His eyes found his partner's as Cameron approached swiftly. "What's up?"
Jason stopped and waited for Mike to come to him. There was no reason at all to let the girl in on what they found. It could be nothing. It was probably nothing. He lowered his voice. "There are a set of size ten's on the other side of the track."
"So? The yard is patrolled regularly by security."
"This isn't security. The print is ridged like a hiking shoe." He blinked. "Not your average uniform print."
Michael's heart began to pick up speed. "No," he agreed, softly. He could see the look in his friend's eyes and knew instinctively that there was more. "What else?"
Cameron blew out a breath. "They branch off from the others and deek underneath the next train. Whoever it was left in a hurry, and they went toward the gate to the north." He wasn't ready to believe that as a significant clue. "It could be anyone."
"Yeah, well I want to know who?" His partner nodded, returning to the train car with the blood. Michael turned back to Natalie, who looked impatient and bored. "Start talking, Nat. For my brother, start talking right now."
She stood her ground.
"Fine!" he snapped, nodding to an officer who quickly sauntered over. "Take her to my car. I'll be right there." He watched her get hauled toward the train station and its parking lot. Damn, she's stubborn! He walked over to tell Jase that he was taking the prisoner to the PD. He would have better luck with her there, and they could use a little luck right about now. There had to be a way to get John out of this mess before it was too late. He licked his dry lips. There has to be?
Cam glanced at Mike, who looked more worried than he's ever seen him. "You heading out?" He was a little worried himself. John McBain had a hell of a lot to answer for, and if he didn't give the right ones he would go to jail. His friend nodded in silence. "Things aren't looking good, Michael."
"No." He knew that. There were too many things tying them together now. His brother was here when everything went down, but he didn't called it in. That looks bad. He was covered in the victim's blood, along with the girl. That doesn't look good either. Natalie isn't talking which won't help either one of them. Not too mention the fact that John took off before he could give a statement, or just a clue about what went down earlier. Damn! He rubbed his eyes, but the strain behind them wasn't going anywhere, anytime soon. "Finish up here and meet me at the station."
Jason nodded slowly, watching him walk away. This day was going to be even longer than the last. He got down to business. The sooner this area was cleared, the sooner they could finally get to the bottom of things. He sighed, feeling a heaviness in his chest. He was nervous because his gut was screaming at him that things weren't done yet, and he knew that they could always, always get worse.
Michael walked into the station with Natalie in toe. She was stoic and silent and hadn't spoken a word since the trainyard, despite his best effort to get her to open up. He handed her off to Tate. "Take her to holding."
The man blinked, surprised. "Holding? Not interrogation?"
He was tired and pissed and scared, and was in no mood to be second guessed by anyone. "Holding, Tate," he reiterated, firmly. Then he watched as she was led downstairs, still in restraints.
He stared a lot longer than necessary. That tiny woman has managed to royally screw up a lot of lives, and he wasn't sure how to fix this? He needed to fix this, and where the hell was John?
"Excuse me, sir?."
Mike glanced toward his officer. "What?" The boy was young, really nothing more than a rookie, but he was a good cop. "What, Davis?" he asked again, lowering his voice slightly.
"Can I get you anything?" He shifted uncomfortably. "Do anything?"
That was unexpected, but a gesture that felt really good right about now. "No." He walked away and disappeared into his office, shutting the door hard. His chair felt fantastic as he sank into it. He was utterly exhaused already, and it was only...9:20 in the morning. Christ! He rubbed his eyes roughly. The headache that was pushing on them from behind was building quickly, and he took a deep breath. The phone was a foot away from his hands.
He thought about what he would say to his father, but truthfully, nothing was coming to mind. ...Hey, pop! John was somehow involved with the shooting of an officer earlier today, but the good news is we found Buchanan. She was with him, but hey, beggers can't be choosers, right?... He closed his tired eyes tightly. His heart was thumping nervously, raising his blood pressure as he sat contemplating the day. Then he reached out and dialed. The move felt automated. It didn't matter, it was done.
Thomas slowly opened his eyes. He kept perfectly still, not wanting to move a relaxed muscle, but the intrusive ring wouldn't let him alone. His fingers wrapped around the phone and picked it up. "Yeah?"
There was silence over the line, and he hoisted his head from the pillow. The silence was very telling. He waited a little longer, and then a voice finally spoke. ...you need to come in...
He felt his calm heart rate explode in his chest. "What's going on, Michael?"
So much was going on that he didn't know where to start? "We have Buchanan."
"John?" Where the hell was his son?
Mike sighed softly. "I'm not going to get into this over the phone. Just come in."
Tom glanced at his wife, who was staring up at him from the mattress. "We'll be right there." He hung up.
"What's happened with him now?"
He touched her cheek. "Get dressed. I'll explain on the way."
John wasn't sure where he was? He followed the EMT's as far as he could before they disappeared behind two large, swinging doors. There were hospital staff only signs all over the place, so he stayed and watched as a flurry of white coats rushed past without a word. That was about half an hour ago and he was still here, but now he was very alone. This room, which was really nothing more than an alcove at the end of a long hallway, was very isolated. There were two floral paintings on the wall as decoration, and five orange plastic chairs wedged between two potted ferns. And absolutely nothing else. No table of magazines? No vending machines? Hell, no nurses? Nothing to indicate that this was actually a working hospital at all, other than the occasional paige to ring out over a crackly speaker. He sighed, staring at the white doors again. He needed to know what was going on with the cop?
His chair was uncomfortable to say the least, so he stood and paced the empty hall, growing more and more impatient. In his mind he could see Natalie standing over the man with a gun in her hand. What the hell happened back there? Stupid! he chastised, for the millionth time. He left her alone, and now there was a man somewhere in this damn building fighting for his life, and that was on him because he fucking left!
After another agonizing moment or two, he reclaimed his seat and placed his face in his hands. He was tired and he was very scared. If the officer died then she would be charged with murder. Her prints would be found on the weapon because she had been holding it, and though he hadn't seen what exactly unfolded on the train, she was no murderer. She was no murderer, but somebody fired that shot. Someone with white cross trainers and blue uniformed pants. He needed to find that bastard!
The door swung wide, and a man who he assumed was a doctor stepped through it looking haggard.
"Are you family?"
John shook his head. "Agent John McBain." He held out his hand, but quickly withdrew it when they both got a good look at the dried blood that was staining his skin. He automatically put them behind his back. "I was at the scene when the officer was shot." He stared directly at the doctor. "How is he?"
"Alive for now, but he lost a lot of blood. We're giving him transfusions and have managed to stop the bleeding." He paused, wishing he had better news. "He's critical."
John swallowed, appearing calm, but the tumultuous emotions underneath were storming through his body. "So he could still die?" he asked bluntly. There was no time for tact. Not with Natalie on her own at the police station.
The doctor frowned. "Yes," he answered simply. "It's going to be touch and go for the next day or so. If he holds on, we'll know more about what we're dealing with?"
"Thank you," John acknowledged, making his way down the long, stifling corridor. He needed to get to Natalie, and he really needed to find out what the hell happened in those few minutes? He reached his car and pulled into the traffic aggressively.
He frowned as he drove, pondering his next move. They were going to need sometime alone if he was going to get his answers, but neither the Commissioner or the Chief of Detectives were going to allow that. Not now, with one of their own hanging in the balance. He blew out a sharp breath. He couldn't help but wonder if there would be a pair of handcuffs with his name on it when he arrived?
He drove, needing to get there.
Natalie was walking in her cell. She gave up on sitting awhile ago, so her legs carried her around the tight space. Where the hell are you? she wondered, anxiously. It was nearly noon and there has been no word from John. Nothing from Rex. No word from anyone at all, including the McBain clan. She was beginning to feel a little desperate.
Her heart was beating in a steady rhythm, letting her know that this nightmare was real and not one she could just wake from. She went to the bars and clutched them, resting her forehead against the cool metal as she closed her eyes. Is that cop dead? With everything in her, she hoped not.
Only there was something else to focus on now, because someone wanted her dead. That son of a bitch was there to kill her - not set her up - kill her. She knocked her head lightly against the bar in frustration. "Who are you?" she mumbled softly, opening her eyes at the sound of footsteps in the hall.
Her pulse raced as she stared at the entryway, and it stopped altogether when she saw who was paying her a visit. "John?" Thank God! "Tell me," she demanded, urgently.
He opened the gate and walked toward her cell. "It's not good, Natalie. He's still alive, but they don't know yet if he'll live."
Her heart sank. "So what now?" she asked, staring wide-eyed. He didn't need to answer, because she already knew. She held the gun that shot a police officer, so it was simply a matter of time. "Never mind, I know what now?" He looked strange, nervous. It wasn't like him to be nervous. "What's going on?"
"Well," he began, walking closer, "we don't have a lot of time. You need to tell me what happened at the trainyard? Everything, Natalie." He reached out and gripped a bar near her hand. "Why were you holding the gun?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "I'm in a freakin' cell, John! Maybe now is not the best time for an open discussion?"
He frowned, grabbing hold of the door with his other hand. "Listen to me!" he snapped, impatiently. "You have to talk to me right now, because we won't get another chance. There are no microphones in here, but there are cameras, and when the guard, the one who I sent on a wild goose chase, when he comes back then it's all over. No more alone time." His breath was heavier. "Tell me, Natalie." He stared at her, waiting for the words of explanation. The one's he needed desperately.
She wanted to hit him. "You're in trouble, aren't you McBain? Because of me, you're in trouble."
"Not if you trust me."
She couldn't tear her eyes away from his hypnotizing gaze. How the hell did he get such a powerful hold over her? "I trust you," she replied, softly. She did trust him. If talking was the only way to keep him from ruining his life over her, then she would do it.
He felt a tremendous relief when she finally began to fill in the blanks of what went down in those few terrible moments. He listened carefully, taking in every detail, every word. When the sound of the door squealed, alerting them to company, he placed a finger over his lips. She nodded, ending the conversation abruptly.
His fingers wrapped around hers as they held to the bars, and Jason Cameron and two other officers walked into the room. She looked at John, who had his intense eyes on her. Despite the circumstance, she smiled, enjoying the heat that slowly spread through her veins.
"Cute, McBain," he said, opening the gate to the holding area. Cameron nodded to one of his men, who promptly unlocked the occupied cell. "Since you're both here, maybe you'd like to join us upstairs?" He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for them to comply, knowing there really wasn't a choice in the matter. They were coming with him. He noticed an amused glint in the girl's eyes. "What?"
"Nice shiner," she said, feeling proud because she had put it there. Then she strode forward, knowing John was right behind her. He was at her back. He always had her back.