Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay! I wrote this chapter quite a while ago but wasn't fond of it at all. I have spent as much time as possible over the last few weeks trying to get it ready, and I finally have it kind of where I want it. There's a few seasonings I wanted to add to the thickening plot, so hopefully I did a good job. And remember, y'all, reviews mean the world to me! Seriously they do; they motivate me to take time out of my busy schedule to get this done, so thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, and keep them coming!

Chapter IV: Weird to Mad in NYC

As Sophie drifted out of dreamworld she slowly became aware that she wasn't alone. Though she was pretty sure she knew who her company was, she forced herself to open her eyes and make sure. Just as she had suspected, it was Parker, who stood across the room by the window. She nodded with satisfaction before settling back into a restful state; this time not of dreams but of thoughts.

Waking up to Parker being somewhere in the apartment had become the norm over the past few days. At first Parker had been shy about coming over, but it wasn't long before the girl began inviting her in at pretty much any time; day or night, and often without Sophie knowing she was there. In the beginning Sophie had wondered how the girl was getting in since she always locked the front door. It took about two days for the brown haired woman to finally realize Parker's way of getting in and out was through the vents.

In fact, the girl seemed quite at home in vents. There were times when the she would crawl inside and stay there for hours, watching Sophie's every move.

The girl, who Sophie now knew was seven, had proven to be a very strange girl indeed, but there was also something very likable about the child; she had a cheerful innocence about her, something that Sophie didn't see much in her line of work.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a loud crash from across the room. Her eyes snapped open to spot the blonde girl standing beside a wall vent covers that had fallen to the ground.

"Sophie Sophie Sophie!" The girl cried.

"Guess what!"

"What?" Sophie groaned as she settled back down. As long as the girl was okay she could probably get five to ten more minutes of rest.

"I found a rat in the vent!

Sophie was up before the sentence was over, and it was only about millisecond after Parker closed her lips that the woman was across the room inspecting the sight. An excited Parker was standing near the kitchen island holding the tail of not just any rat, but a dead, decaying rat. Sophie could see all of the bugs that had taken up room and board throughout the carcass, and the incessant movements made her sick to her stomach. She wanted to break down and cry, but she knew it wouldn't do anything for her, So instead she spoke as calmly and clearly as possible.

"Parker, I want you to take the dead thing outside and put it in the dumpster."

Parker gave her a confused look.

"But I want to keep it as a pet. I've never had a pet before."

Of all of the insane things the girl had said and done so far, Sophie had to rank this at the top. And she sincerely hoped it would stay that way.

"It's dead Parker, it's not a pet. Take it out."

Parker looked both perplexed and disappointed as Sophie ushered her through the front door. As the seven year old walked towards the staircase Sophie could hear her whispering to the dead animal about how unfair it was that she couldn't keep it. Soon after, Sophie was left alone with a bottle of Lysol which she promptly sprayed around the area Parker and her "pet" had occupied.

When Parker eventually came back, Sophie used soap, bottled water, and hand sanitizer to clean the girls hands, then she sprayed her up and down with Lysol before letting the event drop for the moment.

"How about breakfast?"

"Cereal?"

"Mmmhmm..."

Cold cereal had quickly become the the girl's favorite foods and the only thing she's dr really wanted to eat. Sophie sighed as she poured a bowl of cereal for the seven year old, finishing it off with sugar and milk. Then she herself ate a granola bar Parker had stolen from the store for her yesterday. Having the little girl around had proven especially helpful in terms if stocking up the apartment with supplies.

And Parker had no problem with stealing anything Sophie asked for as long as she received a chocolate bar or cereal as payment. It still perplexed Sophie that Parker hadn't realized she didn't need Sophie to give her chocolate bars or cereal, but as with the rat incident this morning, many things about the seven year old perplexed the elder woman.

But regardless, each day she found herself getting more and more used to the young girl's company.

They finish their breakfast together before Sophie directed their attention towards cleaning the apartment, as she did everyday. This time, however, she put greater concentration on laying down rat repellents. Her occupied state allowed two hidden pairs of the eyes to watch her every move without fear.

Somewhere across the city, a very frustrated Nate drove down the skyscraper filled blocks.

It had been about two days since Ian Blackpoole had received the letter that had sent him into this frantic frenzy of rushing to find the art thief.

46 Hours, 15 minutes Ago:

"The woman is a miracle worker, and she's cute too." Ian chuckled. Nate just stared at him.

"You're a sick man."

"Oh come on Nate, loosen up. How's that woman you were dating- Amy... Am-Am..."

"I'm going to break up with her, I just haven't felt like doing the talking it requires," Nate admitted.

"Well, you'll find someone some day." Ian chuckled once again at the thought of Daniella. His statement, however, annoyed Nate further.

"She's young enough to be your granddaughter," he snapped.

"Well, well, well, are you calling me old?"

There was a knock on the door and Nate stormed over to it, giving him a moment to think over the "yes" response he was about to give. He wanted it to be more than just a yes; kind of like a "hell yeah, dinosaur," and not in a playful way.

"Mail." A younger male worker, who's job was basically to distribute company mail, handed Nate a stack of envelopes.

"They're for Mr. Blackpoole." He glanced into the room to make sure the correct receiver of the envelopes would receive them.

Nate took the stack and nodded at the boy before turning back into the room and closing the door. He threw the envelopes at the old man's desk. Ian rolled his eyes as he walked over to collect them and began opening them.

"Bills, junk..."

"Opening mail is so dull now... Remember how exciting it was as a kid?"

Nate's expression hardened, shooting Ian a look that dared him to go further.

But Ian ignored it.

"Remember how excited Sam used to get? Does he still get that excited?"

"Do. Not. Talk. About. Sam!"

"Has he spoken to you recently?"

Feelings of anguish flared up in Nate. He felt his hope in ever hearing from the boy again waning... But who's fault was that really?

"I'll rip your head off Blackpoole!"

"Okay, okay..."

Silence filled the room for a few moments before Ian picked up an envelope and glanced at the sender's address with curiosity.

"Don't recognize this." He waggled the envelope near Nate's face before setting out to open it.

"Probably junk mail."

Nate gave no response other than a continuing glare as the old man pried open the envelope and read the letter inside. It was only a moment before Ian's eyebrows furrowed, his lips tightened and he began shaking. His fist clenched into a ball as he handed the piece of paper to Nate.

"What is it?" Nate asked as he turned his eyes towards the five lines of neatly written cursive:

Dear Mr. Blackpoole,

If you think things are getting better now, it's the eye of the storm; Sophie is going to die.

A murder on your hands Mr. Blackpoole, and you know there's enough evidence to put you under investigation.

I will enjoy watching that cash boat of yours hit rock bottom... Along with that ego I always hated.

Sincerely, the one you screwed.

Nate frowned as he turned to hand the letter black to Ian, but found the man was shaking like a leaf during a hurricane.

"If Sophie dies, everyone will think it's me behind it!" Ian cried.

"Do you have any idea who could have written this?"

"How should I know? I've screwed so many people!"

Nate rolled his eyes, but didn't doubt the validity of that statement. After all, he knew first hand...

"Can't we just show this to the police? They can find finger prints..."

"No. Whoever did this knows better than to have fingerprints, and we're already under fire. If this goes out it will spark an investigation and you know we can't handle that right now."

"Speaking of investigation, what king of evidence is there against you?"

Nate noticed how smoothly Ian ignored his question as he began pacing around the room.

"This is bad Nate. Really bad!"

"Where's the love of your life? She'll know what to do."

"I'll call her." Ian tried to pick up his phone but his trembling hands failed him. Nate sighed and snatched the phone up, dialing the PR specialist's number...

And that had lead him directly to the frustration he was feeling presently. Daniella had assured Nate that finding Sophie before the murder, which she had faith that he could do, was the best option; especially considering the light in which she has depicted the previous incidents. Of course Ian had driven him insane about it ever since.

And lack of luck in finding her had led Ian to make Nate do something he really didn't want to do. It was also something illegal. He pulled up in front of a large apartment building and got out of his car, glancing around.

All sorts of people filled the sidewalk, from old ladies carrying shopping bags, to mothers with their babies, to people Nate suspected were drug dealers, to teenagers riding their bikes, to children running around playing tag. Nate observed the children with a hint of sadness. They were all so small and fragile, just like Sam had been.

"I need a drink." He mumbled under his breath as he headed towards the alley way he had agreed to meet in. He noticed a young African American boy around ten years old get up off of the stairs where he had been sitting and follow in Nate's path. He briefly wondered if the boy had recognized him from the news but shrugged the thought off. The boy probably lived in this direction. Any feelings of concern were settled when he turned into the alley and wasn't followed.

He waited patiently In the alley for several moments before a large figure, not in height but in muscle, turned into the alley. His cold gaze pierced Nate's soul, making him regret letting Ian make him do this. He was really getting tired of letting Ian make him do things...

"So you're Gregory Schwartz." Nate observed the man under his breath as the distance between them shortened.

"I know who I am," A cold voice replied. Apparently the hit man had good ears.

"Don't waste my time. What's the job?"

"I need you to track down a woman." Nate told him, pulling out his phone and pulling up a picture of Sophie Devereaux.

Schwartz observed him carefully for a moment before smirking. Despite the tenseness of the situation, Nate felt the exact moment when the scale began to tip out of his favor.

"You're the insurance cop. Can't beat her huh."

Nate didn't respond because he had a feeling a response wasn't wanted.

"I heard you were an honest man."

Now that warranted a response.

"I am. This wasn't my idea."

Schwart's smirk disappeared.

"It's a high profile case and it's not a murder job. Two things going against it."

There was a sense of amusement to the conversation despite the man's war torn gaze. It was almost as if Nate was being played.

"I'm prepared to pay handsomely."

"What makes you think I want to help an insurance cop? I've been chased by a few of those.

Nate looked away as he pulled out his checkbook and wrote out a number with several zeros on it.

"You're a cold hearted man. You don't care who you help as long as you get a check."

The man shook his head and turned to leave as he responded.

"Not actually true. This isn't my sort of job Ford."

"Wait!" Nate was almost begging regardless of the fact that the scale was irredeemably against him now. He grabbed another check and added another two zeros to the number in a desperate last attempt.

"I'm rich Ford, I don't need a place to sleep. I've got plenty. I do what interest me and this job doesn't interest me, in fact, it gets in the way of a meal I'm looking forward to."

Nate sighed as he watched the man walk away. He wasn't quite sure what had gone wrong during the brief encounter but it had seemed to go downhill the moment he showed the picture of Sophie's face.

As he headed out of the alley his thoughts drifted to Ian; how had he known about this guy anyway... Had he used his services before? And what was he going to do about updating the old man. That was perhaps the most frustrating thought of all.

He finally made it back to his car, and was heading back towards his hotel when a text came through that transformed his frustration into misery.

"Hey dad."

Nate stared at his phone screen for several moments as he felt the final supporting columns of his world crash down.

He made a beeline for the nearest liquor store and brought about least five bottles of beer, not even waiting before he got back to the hotel to start guzzling.

Just when he had managed to subdue his pain about Sam enough to deal with life, the boy had written himself back into it. What could he possibly want?

With perfect timing, his phone buzzed again and Nate glanced down at it as he carried his beer bottles up to his hotel room.

"I just want to know how u r doing."

Nate entered his room and threw his phone down on one of the double beds before falling onto the other and opening up a second bottle. It wasn't long before he had escaped into the semi-bliss of drunk-ness. Nearly two hours passed before the phone made another sound again, this time a ring. Nate, who had spent the time brewing about his situation, was thoroughly pissed off at the caller.

"Don't ask me for a progress report Blackpoole! You had the wrong guy planned for this! I don't know how you know Schwartz! I'm sick of you using me to do your dirty work!"

though."

"Hey, easy Nate. Have you been drinking or something?"

"If I have it's my own damn business!" Nate yelled.

"You fucking ruined my life Blackpoole. I can't even talk to my son because you're a blackmailing jerk! A fucking blackmailing jerk!"

He could hear the old man pleading with him to calm down but he didn't care. His vision was red and it felt good; it felt good to finally unleash this on the person he hated so thoroughly. Why was he even putting up with him again?

"I'm not going down for you, Blackpoole. I'm going I find Sophie, but you aren't getting off the hook. After I do I'm telling everything!" He yelled.

"Nate, calm down and come to your senses-"

"That's what I'm finally doing!"

"I made you!"

"No, you broke me. I won't give you the satisfaction of having me go to jail with you, but I don't care about my career anymore, I can't live with this or you!"

His fingers were trembling so much he could hardly hang up. He threw the device at the wall and sat with his head in his hands. He stayed like that for only a few moments before he reached over for his final bottle of beer and began chucking it down.

He fell asleep not long after, only to be awoken late the next morning by the ringing of the hotel phone.

Hey all! So no, Sam isn't dead. Sam is actually quite alive, and you'll learn more about that drama later. And yes, the tension between Ian and Nate has finally come to a head. Do any of you have ideas as to what might have happened? I'd love to hear them.