Note: I can't thank you all enough for your kind reviews, which are so appreciated, and for the follows. Thanks to EastBlue, Guest, TinDog, Hero76, hlahabibty, ulstergirl, hbndgirl, Caranath, Red Hardy, and Paulina Ann for the reviews on the last chapter. I read each one with great enthusiasm.

The Secret Spaces

Chapter 9

Callie, sitting on the floor, tried to keep her eyes open, but was losing the battle. Even with Johnny's coat, she was freezing. More than that, though, she was so thirsty and she knew she needed to eat. She felt weak and lightheaded and was fighting nausea. Her back was throbbing and it hurt to breathe.

Still, she instinctively placed her hands on her belly, and was almost overcome with relief that she still felt the baby moving. She fought tears. I can't believe I'm gonna die like this, she thought, weakly, as she tried to concentrate. She almost didn't care anymore about herself. The baby, she thought for the thousandth time. She wondered, briefly, whether or not she was carrying a girl or a boy, as she and Frank had decided to be surprised, though they could have found out months ago. Would she even live to find out? Even if she ultimately died, somehow- some way- she had to protect her baby. But how? Was that even possible?

She found herself drifting away in reverie, and her thoughts, as always, went to Frank. The first times they'd shared; how very excited he had been to find out that she was going to have his child. If she thought he had loved her before, she had been astounded to see how much more love he had in him; how sweet and tender and protective he had been with her since she became pregnant. He always made her feel treasured, even when she had been having fears and doubts about her future- what kind of wife she would be; what kind of mother. She had been so scared to tell anyone all of her fears and insecurities- and, alone, she'd created "what if" monsters in her mind that had grown so much they'd almost paralyzed her. Could she handle being a mom? What if she didn't want to stay at home and not work anymore, as she THOUGHT Frank had been hinting at? What if he stopped seeing her as his lover and wife and wasn't attracted to her anymore? And what if- above all- she was a terrible mom and made all the wrong choices? What if... what if. That is what she had needed to talk to Frank about, but had been too scared to do so. She had never wanted to be a burden to him or to anyone else. She had always considered herself strong and independent, but what would this new phase in her life entail? Her feelings were so complex and so layered, and she had withdrawn into herself, scared of being vulnerable and making things worse.

God, how she regretted those thoughts now. All the time wasted worrying- and about what, really? Frank, she knew now, never would have judged her. He had seen her at her worst and had always helped her through it. Johnny would have given her tough love and a big reality check before hugging her- that's just how he was- no nonsense in matters of the heart. And Vanessa might not have understood, but she would have listened patiently and offered sage advice and a safe space to vent. And so,too, would Laura and her own mother have done so. Even Joe, she knew, would have been perhaps her best ally- he always "got" her in a way few others did, because they both loved Frank so much and would have found a way to talk to him gently about anything. But none of that mattered now. What she wouldn't give to tell Frank that she loved him, to hold him one last time. A few tears spilled over, which she quickly wiped away. Why was this happening?

None of this made any sense. Who were these people? What did they want with her and Vanessa- with Johnny? Where were Frank and Joe? No matter how dire this situation was, she realized, at that moment, that she DID have faith that they would find her- all of them. And while that gave her some hope, she could only pray that it wouldn't be too late.

"Hey." She heard Vanessa's voice, but couldn't open her eyes. She felt so weak. "Callie? Cal?" She heard the panic in Vanessa's voice, and willed herself to open her eyes. It was so hard.

"God, Cal- you scared me," Vanessa said, and squeezed her hand. Callie realized that Van was staring at her, but it was hard to concentrate enough to talk. "Cal," Vanessa went on, and Callie watched her wipe back tears. "You look awful. You're so pale. Can you- I mean…"

"Yeah," she mumbled. "I think the baby's okay." Her eyes were heavy and began to close again.

"No!" Vanessa said, dropping Callie's hand and hugging her around the shoulders from the side. "You HAVE to stay awake, Cal. Force yourself."

Callie nodded weakly and tried to move slowly, unable to stifle a moan. She felt like she might throw up and started retching, though nothing came out. "God," she managed. "I feel awful."

Vanessa hugged her tightly. "I know, sis," she said. "But we have to stay strong here."

Callie finally managed to focus. "Are you alright? How's your cheek?"

"I'm okay," she said bravely. "I swear to God, if he didn't have a gun and idiotic cronies, I think I would try to kick his ass."

Callie chuckled softly in spite of herself. "Okay, Joe," she answered weakly. Then, she gasped as she clutched her back. "Johnny!" she managed.

"Here," he said softly, and she realized he was only a few feet away. He gave her a small wave.

"You okay, John John?" she asked slowly, meeting his eyes.

"Me? Sure," he said with a small smile. "It takes more than a little stabbing to get me down."

Callie swallowed hard, feeling her heartbeat in her chest as she tried to breathe, stay awake, and get her bearings. "I'm sorry, Johnny," she said. "You must be in so much pain. Thank you for trying to protect us."

"I'm okay," he answered offhandedly. Then he went on, "And I'll protect you," he said, with an intensity that Callie didn't remember hearing before. She didn't have a chance to think about it for too long, though, because the door burst open and Scarface, as she'd come to think of him, entered with the large man who had hurt her and Vanessa. She shrunk back, and Vanessa did the same. Johnny somehow managed to stand.

"You have one hour," the man said thoughtfully, as the goon next to him dropped two brown bags onto the floor. "At that time, Detective Durant, you have a decision to make. One of you will be set free- you choose. Of course, that doesn't mean much- whomever you choose- even yourself- will find that it may be quite difficult in the elements. But you would have a chance."

"Wh- why?" Johnny asked, completely confused. "What will happen to whoever stays here?"

"I don't know," the man responded eerily. "We have to see how the episode unfolds."

Johnny raised his hands in frustration. "WHAT episode? This is real life. I'm an ACTOR. Come on, man. You know that."

"Choose," he said, simply. "And if you happen to get to safety- you, or your friends- and you might… tell your rescuer that Alan says hi."

"What?!" Johnny asked.

"Remember- you're not that important," he answered with a shrug. "She is," he said, pointing at Vanessa. "And she definitely is," he went on, pointing at Callie. "But the presence of the three of you together with your show? Brilliant. YOU don't matter, per se. What you represent matters."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Johnny fumed.

"You'll find water, apples, and some sandwiches in the bags," he started. "That should be enough to get you to phase 2. We don't need you giving up so soon. Besides, isn't that the kind of guy Anthony Charles would be?" he asked, referencing the fictional killer on Criminal Hunters. "Complex. Misunderstood. Not a bad man deep down, but just a brilliant mind with a love for games. Hmmm. It would certainly be surprising for the opener, eh?"

Johnny looked at him intensely as Vanessa clung to Callie's hand. "One hour," he repeated, and then both men were gone.

"What are we gonna do?" Vanessa asked fearfully.

"Girls," he said somberly, "I have absolutely no idea."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the station, Joe and Frank sat together in Collig's office, waiting for their father and Collig to finish their updates and conversations with the PD and the FBI. Joe had called Fenton on the way to the station and told him what he and Frank had discussed, and Fenton had already begun working on a list of names of possible suspects on the show. At least something was happening.

Joe started fidgeting in the chair, bouncing his leg nervously and cracking his knuckles. While he was glad to have somewhere to start, he hated waiting, especially with so much on the line.

"Joe? "Frank queried. "Try to be calm, okay?"

Joe nodded, feeling the energy building up again.

Frank reached over and touched his arm. "Someone once told me- not even an hour ago- to hold it together. So let me give that advice back." He squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Hold it together," he repeated. "I'm right here with you."

Joe sighed and gave a small, rueful grin. "Whoever gave you that advice sounds like a wise man. And very handsome," he added.

Frank snorted. It was good to be back in sync with his brother again, and working together to get answers sure as hell beat contemplating the worst case scenario right now. That was unbearable. His wife; his baby… Refusing to go back to the dark place from which he had just released himself, even temporarily, he commented back, "Yes. Those were very handsome words, whatever that means."

Joe gave a small smile.

"While we're waiting, I think we need to go on a couple of assumptions here, which I normally don't like to do, but for time's sake," Frank began.

Joe sat up straight. "I'll start. Alan Cotnig is not dead and he's after dad- or at least trying to taunt him. It's a game to him now, which is why he didn't reach out to him directly. He somehow has a connection to Johnny's show. He's trying to make the murders in real life parallel the show- or the show parallel the murders. I don't even know."

Frank shook his head and got up to get a cup of coffee- black. He took a sip, enjoying the slow burn and hoping it would wake him up more. Joe waited patiently. "You know what's really disturbing?" he said at last. "That five innocent people had to die to make a game; a pattern; to get dad's attention. It's sick."

"Yep," Joe agreed, "it is."

"Can we look at the last ads again?" Frank asked, sipping the coffee again. "I especially want to look at the two poems. They don't make any sense."

Joe shrugged. "Sure," he said, "hold on." He started rifling around on Collig's desk, where he soon found a familiar looking file. He tossed it at Frank. "Go to town."

Frank gave Joe a copy of the ads and found a copy for himself. Joe gave up after 5 minutes, not seeing anything that they hadn't already discussed. He was surprised to see Frank's brow furrowed in concentration. He was staring so hard it looked like he would burn a hole in the paper. Joe sighed inwardly. He respected his brother's methods of inquiry immensely, but Frank's slow and methodical approach drove him crazy. Still, he'd be lying if he said that, more often than not, it didn't work.

As Frank continued to stare at the paper in front of him, Fenton and Collig came into the office.

"Sorry, boys," Fenton said, taking a seat as Collig sat on his desk. "We have the names and we are just trying to work through them."

"You alright, son?" Collig asked Frank, but he remained staring at the ads.

Slowly, Frank nodded."Yeah. Chief? Dad? I… think this IS about you," he said at last, fighting the catch in his voice.

"What are you talking about?" Collig asked.

"The ads," Frank replied. "There's… I mean…"

"What is it?"Joe asked, shocked by the intensity in his brother's eyes.

"Look," Frank answered, and walked to a table in the back of the office, where he spread out the ads. Ezra, Fenton, and Joe followed.

"BD. That's obviously Johnny's character's initials. We know that. But it could also be Bayport-that's what I'd been thinking earlier, before- everything." He took a moment to clear his throat before continuing. "The ads were placed in the Times here- so Bayport means something. So what could the "D" be? I know there's no evidence for this, but what if it meant- Detective? Because that would apply to Johnny AND to you, Dad, and to the Chief, and to me and Joe."

"Hmmm," Collig replied, rubbing his chin. "That makes a certain amount of sense."

"It does," Frank went on calmly, "especially if the second sentence is true- "it's all about what you do." That could be a reference to our profession as well as a taunt to say, basically, DO something."

Joe nodded. It was oddly fun to watch Frank at work. His mind worked so differently from his own. "So we know the AC part," Frank continued. "The name of the killer on Criminal Hunters-Anthony Charles; also Agatha Christie's initials; also Alan Cotnig's initials. The only thing we haven't discovered is what "the secret spaces will speak to you" means. So I started looking at patterns."

"What did you see?" Joe encouraged him.

"Well, 1-4 are numbered, then it went to 7, which means that 5 and 6 are supposed to be emphasized."

Joe nodded. "Yeah- well, they WERE emphasized. They didn't announce anything; they had sayings."

"Exactly," Frank said. "So we need to pay special attention to them. All the murders escalated until the… kidnapping… so that was a focus as well. Nothing has appeared since." He looked at the people gathered together, and took a deep breath. "I see the pattern."

"What is it?" Fenton asked, warily.

"Look at the names. Alice Conway. Beatrice Donover. Cathy Eisner. David Fallon. Gertrude Idhig," Frank recapped. "The towns are inconsequential- just part of the alphabet game. The real secret spaces are in the names. There is a literal space- look: A-C; B-D; C-E; D-F; G-I."

"Okay,'' Joe answered. "So the focus isn't on the first names, like we thought. What does it tell us?"

Frank sighed, unhappy. He ran a hand through his hair. "Look at the SPACES," he emphasized. "And this time, don't look at what's there- look at what's NOT there." They gathered around and stared.

"Don't you see?" Frank asked quietly. "A, B, C, D. G. You're missing E and F- Ezra and Fenton. If you look at the last names, you're missing G and H, right? Didn't you say, Chief, that you used to have a nameplate that spelled your name 'Gollig' for the longest time? It started as a mistake, and then you said the town was too cheap to get you another one, and then you decided to wear it- still wear it, sometimes, as a joke? I bet you wore it 15 years ago, right? Or, if you look at it solely with the spaces, it works backwards anyway with your real name. That's clever- shows an understanding of the past plus the present. Look! Ezra Collig -EC- is exactly two spaces apart, like FH- And the H is obviously Hardy."

Fenton's face paled. "That's all right. Yes."

Collig nodded slowly.

Joe sucked in a breath as it hit him. "Oh, man," he groaned. "The victims' ages- 12, 22, 32, 42… 72."

"And I'm 52 and Ezra is 62. Right." Fenton rubbed his temples.

"And the pattern fits again," Frank went on. "Three random women. One man. Two more men would make that balance. The last victim was killed simply to emphasize the missing pattern of two men. That's it." He stopped momentarily as realization hit him. "But now there are two more women to also keep up the pattern of 3 women, three men, three women...and Johnny could restart the pattern." Frank's voice was tight and sweat had started to form on his forehead.

"That first message, then," Joe added, pale. "It said "seeker of truth/ follow no path/ all paths lead where/ truth is here". I guess that means to stop following random leads- the truth was here-right in front of us."

"Yeah, but that's not all. Want to know how complicated this is?" Frank asked. He pulled out his cell phone and hit the internet search button. He typed in the poem. "I thought so," he said, shaking his head. "It IS a poem; it's not just a message. And the poet? e.e. Cummings. EC- Ezra Collig. He put your initials in correctly this time, just to let you know the "G" wasn't a mistake before."

"Holy shit," Joe muttered. "This is crazy."

"And the second ad has another link that I assume is the same," Frank went on. "This one reads "Noises that usually woke me from rest afraid of monsters/ kept my father awake that night, too,/ and I lay in the quiet noticing him listen, learning/ that he might not be able always to protect us." Hold on." Frank typed the opening lines into his phone. "Yup. A poet named Forrest Hamer. FH- Fenton Hardy. And that's a not so veiled warning that he's out to get us, too- and our families, and that dad can't save us from the 'monsters'," Frank said quietly. The enormity of the discovery weighed on him immediately."Excuse me," he said, turning to leave the room.

"We will get him," Fenton said to Joe, firmly, and Collig agreed."Yes, son- we will. And your wife will be okay."

Joe nodded, feeling his heart start to pound. If this guy - working with god knows how many other people- was so hell bent on tearing his family apart; if he had already murdered 5 innocent people, who were not even the targets; if he had managed to infiltrate a set filled with security, and had already escaped death once- then what chance did Vanessa, Callie, and Johnny even have?

He turned and walked quickly outside, where he saw his brother, hunched over by a table in the back. Clearly, Frank had come to the same conclusion just moments before he had. Joe sat next to him, fighting back tears. This time, though, Joe was shocked when Frank sat up and put his arm around him. "Hold it together, right?" Frank asked, voice shaking, eyes bright with tears.

Joe tried to stop his lip from quivering to no avail. He cleared his throat. "Right."

They stayed together for several minutes, the enormity of the task before them enough to shock them into silence.

"Come on," Frank said, giving Joe a final squeeze and a quick pat on the back. "We can do this." He got up, and Joe followed. He needed to concentrate on this moment, though he felt his heartbeat race; saw his hands shake. He needed to be strong now for Joe, but he didn't know how much longer his resolve could last. Callie... the baby...his whole life dangled precariously in front of him. He had so very much to lose.

"We have to," Joe added in a low voice, thinking of Vanessa. Could Fate be that cruel to take away the only two women he had ever loved? He couldn't lose her. It would literally kill him to have to live without her. But if Frank could do it, so could he, and Frank needed his support badly right now.

Together, they walked slowly ahead, united in grief, but determined to reunite their families. Failure was not an option.