December 2nd – afternoon
Erin's eyes were glued to the black screen. Eighteen blank spaces, and once they were filled with the letters and numbers scribbled down on the piece of paper she was clutching, the program would load. A live stream to Jamie's prison would open and new horrors would come pouring out. It might very well be the last time she would see her little brother.
Although her Dad had warned her not to do it, she'd talked to a psychologist, a close family friend. Not about herself – that would have to wait until the nightmare was over – but about the criminal. Despite herself, Erin had wanted to understand, something she regretted now that she'd received the next password and knew exactly what it meant. It had arrived sooner than the ones before, meaning the perp was escalating, which in turn would not end well for Jamie.
"I don't want to do this", Erin whispered. Her daughter had black circles beneath her eyes, another consequence of these videos, a secondary effect she couldn't be protected from. Erin wiped her hands across her face, feeling useless. As a mother, she was a failure. As a big sister even more. Yet she couldn't bring herself to touch the buttons that would show them whether Jamie was still alive.
"Give it to me", Linda said, opening her palm to receive the code, excepting part of the responsibility the criminal had unloaded onto Erin's shoulders when he sent her the envelope this morning. It was her job to call the others, to inform Danny, her job to open the program. But could it hurt to let Linda do it? Would somebody mind? Would she always think of herself as weak?
Doubts churned through her mind, feelings Erin usually kept buried beneath layers of smart comments, toughness and expertise. Was a lawyer weaker, more cowardly than the rest of the Reagans, who were all cops? Was that the reason why she felt totally unprepared and horrified even thinking about entering the numbers? She couldn't dawdle any longer, knowing everybody's expectations and anxiousness were rising.
"Here it goes", Erin said, quickly copying the numbers after having thanked Linda but declining the offer. The two women shared a long look, knowing each others feelings because they were mirrored in the other woman's eyes. Concern. Fear. Resignation. And an unmistakable fire of the hunt, a spark that came from knowing that Danny was out there looking for Jamie. A hint of Reagan strength and confidence.
"It's dark", her daughter observed just as the light in the cell was switched on. The criminal left them a full minute to take in Jamie's disheveled state as he was sitting on the chair, his paleness, the dried blood on still unchanged shirt, the colorful bruises that shimmered in different shades of black, blue, violet and green. What else was hidden beneath the gray cloth of his shirt? What else had been done to her little brother? Jamie looked barely conscious, did he even know he was being recorded? His shoulders were low, his whole posture lacking the tension he'd been sporting the times before.
As if to answer her questions, the door swung open and revealed the perp, jerking Jamie awake in the same instance. Jamie's fingers were clenched tightly, his frame trembling ever so slightly as the man came closer, showing off a huge, shiny knife. Oh, no.
Erin was about to avert her eyes when the man clasped Jamie's shoulder and brought down the blade. A sound echoed through the Reagan's living room, but it was not her brother's scream. Not yet. The shirt was expertly cut away, exposing the vulnerable skin beneath. Jamie was staring daggers at the captor but kept his mouth closed until the man seemed to get impatient and used the hilt of the knife to give him a knock on the head. Exactly where blood had tainted the sandy-blonde hair. Erin winced in sympathy while Jamie tried to hide the pain. Then he faced the camera and delayed a message.
"He wishes you to know this is because of Stephen."
"Who is Stephen?", Henry asked and this time, the criminal did not try to silence them by hurting his hostage. Quite the opposite, now that he had gagged Jamie with a thick piece of cloth, he was pacing, listening. Erin shook her head, never having known any Stephen, turning around to face Frank. Apart from Danny who was out of the country, Frank had been the only one named to be responsible for the ordeal Jamie was going through. So who was Stephen?!
"Stephen. Stephen Wyrdmann", Frank murmured, whiter than the wall behind him. Erin was scared, because her father never ever showed emotions like that, not ever. Who was Stephen Wyrdmann? Why did he know Frank?
"Oh yes, that's right, Commissioner. Stephen. Don't tell me you actually forgot the man you killed?", the criminal asked, looking pleased and playing with the knife, teasing Jamie by pulling the blunt edge over his bare abdomen and arms, toying with Jamie's emotions. Her little brother was fighting for control, Erin could sense the struggle as much as she could see it on the screen. Hang in there, Danny is coming. We'll get through this.
"Stephen was killed by a maniac. His death was a tragedy and a terrible crime", Frank stated, gripping the back of his chair. To their astonishment, the criminal laughed, then suddenly turned the blade in his hand and cut cleanly across Jamie's shoulder. Blood oozed out of the three inches long injury and Jamie was biting down hard on the damp rag to conceal his cry of pain.
"No! Stephen was tortured and killed because of your inability to save him, Commissioner Reagan! You killed him! You did this to him, you did this to my son! And now I'm doing it to yours!" Violently holding Jamie down, Mr. Wyrdmann widened the cut, let the cold steel linger for a moment and then threw red droplets in a wide arc as he used the weapon to tear the mask from his face. The man had greasy, black locks, red sunken-in eyes that were muddy brown and thin lips that made Erin flinch when they curled into a smile because her brother hissed in pain.
"Your name is Harold, am I correct?", Frank asked, drawing the attention back to him, "I never forgot your case, it was one of the hardest we ever had. We used every resource available to find your son alive, but it wasn't enough. We couldn't save him and I'm deeply sorry."
"Sorry, huh? You're sorry. That's what you said last time, too. Sorry for your loss, there was nothing we could do. But you know what? You could have saved him! You should have gotten him out of there! But you were too busy investigating his own father!" Harold raked a hand through his dirty hair, using his left hand. He seemed on the verge of doing something crazy and Jamie tried to say something, but a warning sting at his throat silenced the attempt. Instead another thin line of blood appeared.
"We followed protocol. It was the only chance we had to find him, follow every lead we had", Frank tried to explain, glancing at his family around him who were all equally stunned by the sudden turn of events. None of them knew the criminal and even Frank had only seen him twice.
"Following... following a lead! That's what you call it these days? You destroyed my life!", Harold screamed, emitting spittle and grabbing Jamie by the hair to underline his point. Slowly he bent Erin's brothers neck backwards until Jamie had tears in his eyes and the knife's point was resting beneath his chin. Somewhere behind her mother, Nicki whimpered, whispering that now her Uncle would be killed.
"The officers did the best they could. We all tried", Frank said, transfixed by the sheen of the knife that was deliberately pressing into the skin of his boy, hurting him, torturing him. Just like Stephen Wyrdmann had been tortured, Erin understood. Resentment swelled up inside her. Why hadn't her Dad seen the connection? With the sketch - admittedly, it didn't look exactly like Harold, but it was close - he should have known! Erin tried to keep her anger under control, focusing it instead on the real reason for Jamie's pain: Harold Wyrdmann - kidnapper and psychotic killer?
The man let go of her brother again, who sighed and carefully assumed his original position, glaring at his captor.
"What would your wife think if she knew about this?", Henry suddenly inquired, making everyone in the room jump and the kidnapper's grip on the weapon tighten. Oh, shut up, Grandpa. Keep your mouth shut, this is not working, Erin prayed, but Henry had not seen the signs.
"She wouldn't want you to do this, ruin your life, committing a crime live on tape."
"My wife threw herself in front of a train", Harold deadpanned, almost carelessly dropping the knife and walking over to stand directly in front of the camera.
"Don't pretend to know me", he growled angrily, then blinked as if he'd remembered something, "And why is poor Daniel so quiet? Still having a headache from his fall?"
"He's in hospital, drugged and asleep. He has a bad concussion", Linda explained between closed teeth. Her voice was even and filled with hatred, no lie detectable. Would it be enough? Somehow Erin doubted it. And her prediction was right, Harold was not pleased.
"You left him there? Opened the stream without assembling the whole family? Get him here, right now!", the man exploded, raising his voice again to a shout.
"We can't, it's out of our hands. He's being supervised by several doctors, the nurses won't let him out of their sight", Frank said.
"I don't care! Kill the nurses, do whatever you must to get him here!"
"We can't!" That was Nicki, screaming and crying. Acting but not pretending to be desperate.
"You will! Or in less than an hour, sweet Jamison will die!", Harold replied, turning around and leaving the room. As soon as the door closed, Jamie sprang into motion. He tried to formulate words through the gag, but only achieved indistinguishable mumbling, which obviously frustrated him. Finally, he partially got up and strained to reach the knife on the floor with his bare feet.
"Smart", Erin commented dryly, mostly to relieve some of her own tension. Her daughter was updating Danny, texting furiously although she kept most of her attention firmly on the screen. The fingers of Nicki's left hand dug into the flesh of Erin's shoulder as they watched the distance between blade and toes decrease while Jamie's contorted maneuvers got painful to look at. Only a few more inches, only the space of a hand separated them, only...
"Shit!" Henry gasped as the door flew open and Harold caught Jamie in the act of escaping. The same moment her brother finally touched the hilt of the knife, a backhanded blow connected with his bruised jaw and sent him back into the chair. The knife skittered across the floor, landing in the far corner. Unreachable. Lost.
"You can't help yourself, can you?", Harold asked and patted Jamie's cheek, who looked disgusted. Harold only smiled, his earlier outburst forgotten as he placed a vial of clear liquid on the floor, daring the Reagans to ask for its purpose. In the end it was Linda who did it.
"What is that?"
"Poison."
"What?!"
"Poison." Harold turned around to the camera and winked at them, pulling out a clean syringe and dipping it into the fluid. He seemed strangely happy, examining the small bubbles of air that rose to the surface. Jamie's eyes went wider by the second, all color gone from him. Reflexively, he began to struggle as panic seized him.
"No, please don't, please don't", Nicki cried quietly, dropping the phone and seeking her mother's hand. Erin desperately wanted to comfort her, but her fingers were ice-cold and limp from shock. She'd been right. This would be the last they ever saw of Jamie Reagan, the last video stream, his last breaths before he died in front of this camera. Today would be the day they all lost him again, she knew it. And as the needle got closer and then pierced her brother's skin, she closed her eyes in defeat.
Bang!
A shot! What was happening?
Erin jumped, opening her eyes to study the screen closely. Danny! Her brother had arrived to save Jamie! Oh, Danny, please don't be too late! Now shouts and multiple screams could be heard.
"What's happening?", Frank asked calmly, mirroring his daughter's thoughts. Harold seemed visibly shaken, paleness creeping across his features. Yet he did not stop but celebratory pushed down the needle into Jamie's arm, who was on the verge of passing out from panic and the strain on his still fighting body. Meanwhile, Henry dialed his grandson's number, being surprised when Danny answered on the first ring.
"What's happening?"
"That's what I wanted to hear from you, son", Henry replied. At his words, Erin's legs seemed to become jelly. Danny would never have picked up if he was involved in a shootout. Then who? Was this all part of Harold Wyrdmann's sick game? Her quick mind pondered the question, coming up empty when searching for reasons why the criminal would pretend to be terrified, which he clearly was at the moment. Without sparing her little brother another glance, Harold dropped the vial and made his way to the door, out of their field of vision. Jamie was as tense as a bowstring, having closed his eyes. His movements were strangely irregular and he was shaking as if he was cold.
"Danny! You need to get in there, now! Yes, I understood you're still half a mile away, but the house is under attack and that man might have injected Jamie with poison. You need to save him now!", Nicki shouted into the phone she'd taken from Henry. Erin could not hear her brother's answer, but she knew he was running for his life. Well, Jamie's life, at least.
"We need to be faster", Danny told Jackie, closing the phone and reaching for his gun instead. By now he could hear the sounds of gunfire, not through the line but with his own ears. The house was looming in the distance behind the setting sun that seemed to engulf everything in fire. Let this son of a bitch burn, Danny thought, but please keep my brother safe from harm until I can take care of him.
"Danny! The car!" Jackie's voice broke through his improvised prayer, her finger pointing towards a well-known silver BMW. So Arabella was at the scene as well, probably meeting with the kidnapper and supporting him against the unknown attackers. Maybe she was even watching Jamie fight for his life.
"Faster!", he repeated, increasing his pace until they reached the driveway. There, they crouched behind some bushes and surveyed the damage. A man was lying on the ground, obviously dead. Another was close to his final breath on the doorstep. Carefully, Danny and Jackie entered a luxurious hall. Wide staircases led upstairs and into a cellar.
"Where to?", Jackie inquired, watching his back and stepping around the bleeding man to feel his pulse. Her face told him his assumption had been right: there was nothing they could do for this poor fellow. For Jamie, however, there might still be a chance if they acted fast enough.
"We need to split up. You take the first floor, I'll check out the cellar. Be cautious, there will probably be multiple armed parties in the house."
"Sure thing." Silently and efficiently, Jackie went upstairs to methodically search every room while Danny peered down the stairs he'd chosen for himself. He was halfway down when a scream could be heard. Jamie! It was his voice, unmistakably, his little brother was close. As fast as he dared, Danny moved down the hallway and opened the first door: empty room. Second and third were quiet, dark and locked. Fourth led into a storage room, but the fifth was a hit. More than ten screens and mountains of wires made up Harold's headquarter, as well as several stale bottles of beer and a huge photo of a person Danny recognized as his son, Stephen.
Another low scream spurred Danny back into action, making him leave the room in a hurry. At the end of the modern hallway, light was emerging from a crack beneath a strong iron door. The same door they'd seen on the video? Although he hadn't checked the other rooms, Danny broke into a run and sprinted through the opening, seeking cover and taking in the scene within the blink of an eye.
Jamie was lying on the floor, unbound but writhing in pain, holding his stomach. There was a person leaning over him, a tall person with red flaming hair and a gun in her hand. Arabella! She was helping the kidnapper!
"Back away from him!", Danny said, his voice dangerously low. His gun was trained on her, but Arabella wasn't making any move to get up, rather ignoring him completely to check something on Jamie's chest. What the hell did she think she was doing?
"Get off him! Now!"
"Danny...", Arabella said, glancing at him in an unconcerned fashion that made his skin crawl. They would never know what she'd wanted to say, because suddenly several things happened at once. Firstly the woman got to her feet, holding her weapon loosely in her left hand. Secondly Jamie cried out, thrashing and hitting Arabella's leg, making her stumble forward in Danny's direction. And finally the door opened again, giving entrance to a bulky man with blond hair.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Danny saw Arabella's hand tighten around her gun, so he reacted the only way possible, loosening a shot the same instance a solid body collided with his. They went down next to his brother, Danny's head hitting stone and the impact dazing him for a moment. When he came back to his senses, the intruder had grabbed his own weapon and was pointing it directly at Danny's chest, who shot an apologetic look at his brother. Sorry kid, not what I was hoping for, either. He blinked.
A cry. A shot. Then silence.