I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: Blame Fifilla for the cliffie ... her fault. Yup ... it is! BUT, since it's Christmas ... I thought I'd post an extra chapter today. I hope everyone is having - or has had - a wonderful holiday.
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O*
Chapter Four
"I'm almost done. Did Uncle Steve call back yet, Danno?" Grace shouted from the kitchen where she had managed to rifle through her father's refrigerator and pantry, happily finding more than enough to cobble together a decent picnic lunch for three.
"No. Not yet!" Danny hollered back from his bedroom where he was searching for a spare jacket. Just in case the crystal blue sky decided to become fickle; because if he was hiking, it surely would rain regardless of the sunny weather forecast.
"We only need to stop for drinks!" Grace shouted next, laughing as her father rounded the corner into the kitchen. She was hollering for nothing now based on his overly dramatic wince.
"We'll stop at the deli near your Uncle Steve's house," Danny confirmed, waggling his cell phone warningly because his partner had yet to return his messages. "But, be warned that Uncle Steve's phone is still going right to voicemail, Monkey. He may not even be home."
Her face fell in abject disappointment, but in reality, Danny's own mind was running rampant. At first, he merely thought Steve might be swimming. But the more that time elapsed without a returned call from his voicemail messages, the more he felt discomforted by the oddity of it.
"We're going to swing by his house," Danny said. "We'll try the old fashioned way of announcing ourselves by ringing the doorbell." He felt better committing to the personal visit. Something felt decidedly wrong because none of their cell phones would ever be turned off or be allowed to run out of battery. It was an unspoken rule that their mechanical lifelines always be on and accessible regardless of day or night.
"Okay," Grace replied happily, more sure that Steve would be available than having last minute plans of his own. " We just need drinks then. Maybe Uncle Steve is still swimming?"
Danny hmm'd a soft acknowledgment, but he was worried and now distracted. He suddenly felt desperate to get over to Steve's house more than to see if the man wanted to go on a simple picnic-hike in the park.
"Ready, Monkey? Let's go," Danny scooped his car keys off the counter. He felt an urgency pushing him so hard that he didn't want to stop for drinks either as he slung the backpack Grace had prepared over his shoulder. Something was definitely off and in his anxiety, he nearly trotted out to the Camaro leaving Grace far behind. He drove faster than usual. Then he murmured something under his breath about the waste of time, yet in the end, they did stop for drinks at the small store closest to Steve's house. More so, that five minute delay for beverages was for Grace's sake because she was picking up on his overly agitated demeanor.
"Do you think something's really wrong?" Grace asked, her face now extremely serious as Danny insisted she stay in the car while parked in Steve's driveway. He stared in confusion at the big blue Silverado truck resting calmly where it rightly should. It meant that Steve was indeed home, but why he'd not answered his cell phone, turned it on or kept it duly charged made little sense.
"It's probably nothing," Danny tried to reassure her, but failed when she saw that he was indeed wearing his gun belt after having retrieved it from the glove compartment. "It's just for precaution, Monkey. Just in case ... and I want you to stay here until I say so."
"Okay, Danno," Grace sank glumly down in the passenger seat. The big backpack was anchored in her arms and she didn't say another word as she watched her father carefully approach the front door. She could see by the hunch in shoulders and the way he stiffened warily that he certainly didn't approve of the house being unlocked when the door swung open so easily.
Danny growled under his breath when he tried the front door and found it unlocked. No doubt the alarm was off, too. With a quick glance to reassure himself that his daughter was still in the car, he entered the silent house. He drew his gun only when Grace wouldn't be able to see the scary action from where she sat and then he cleared each room from bottom to top, then back again.
"Steve!" He called out loudly upon completing his task, baffled by the utter stillness and lack of anything out of place. The bed hadn't been slept in or was already made up for the day. Of which to choose, he couldn't quite be sure. But there was no food in the kitchen from either a previous night's dinner or a breakfast. On a peaceful Saturday, there should have at least been leftover coffee in the carafe. However, he was left to glower suspiciously at the glass because it was spotlessly clean.
"Shit," Danny murmured when he spied Steve's truck keys, badge and then the leather wallet all left openly on the counter. It was obvious that something was indeed off; very wrong in fact. "Steve!" He shouted again, worry sending the hair on his neck sky-high as his call went unanswered and the warnings of trouble trilled in his head.
"Steven!" Shoving the lanai doors open, Danny strode rapidly outside to gaze up and down the beach front. But there was no sign of his friend anywhere. His distressed cursing boomed darkly as he bolted back through the house to retrieve Grace, fully on edge to have left her unattended in the Camaro.
"Grace, hey." He modulated his tone to something more normal, relieved to no short degree when she hesitantly waved to him from her anxious perch on the edge of the passenger seat.
"Is Uncle Steve here?" She asked as he reached the passenger side of the car to open the door for her. Her face was crestfallen as her father's serious nature communicated his own ongoing alarm.
"It's too hot to stay in the car," Danny failed on soothing her when she felt his more severe tension circulating around his very being. She knew that something seemed out of place to him and she unconsciously adopted his emotional stress level. "No, I haven't found him yet … come on in though."
"Where is he?" Grace asked, touting the heavy backpack into Steve's house. "Did something happen? Could he be out swimming? Maybe a walk or he went for a run?"
"I don't know, Monkey," Danny sighed, dragging a hand uselessly over his face as he once more gazed around the first floor of the house. Nothing was adding up until his eyes met Grace's and she gasped out loud before voicing their mutual conclusion.
"The shed!" She blurted the obvious around a broadly beaming smile. "I bet he's working on the old car!" She dropped the backpack and was gone before Danny could react, thundering out the lanai and pelting across the grassy expanse. "Uncle Steve!"
"Grace! Hold up!" A terrible thought crossed his mind and Danny cursed, stumbling over the backpack she'd carelessly abandoned on the floor. "Damn it!" He tripped badly and nearly fell in his haste, but she was already gone.
Of course, the shed ... the car. With his heart suddenly in his mouth from a fearful trepidation, Danny's eyes widened in complete understanding. God ... the Marquis ... the new mechanics creeper. Steve couldn't wait to get his hands on it. As if he could literally hear it happening in his head, each of the strangely missing pieces slid into place with a terrible clarity.
"Steve," Danny's breath hitched, but he was already regaining his feet and rounding the dining room table when he heard her first frightened shout. On the heels of her second, he was bursting through the lanai doors and retracing her very footsteps towards the distant shed. "Grace, stop ...!"
"Danno! Help!"
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O*
"Uncle Steve? Are you okay? Uncle Steve … wake up." A small feather-like breeze caressed his cheek and Steve trembled at the touch. His doze had become a sickly sleep of sorts and he was having difficulty waking. Her voice reached him as a nonsensical lilting sound and instead of rousing, he sank deeper down into the peaceful promise of the dream. There was a teary quality to the childish tone, something sweet but also sad, and he almost smiled. He thought he should say something or even apologize, but Steve couldn't find the energy to do more than listen to the fragile words.
"Uncle Steve? Danno can help … he will." He frowned when his beleaguered brain made slow sense of the sniffles and watery syllables. Steve thought he understood the important words, yet he was still slow to react; much too slow to understand that help at truly arrived. "Danno will know what to do."
Grace? Seconds later, whomever Steve thought he felt or sensed was gone before he could even consider getting his eyes opened to acknowledge he had indeed heard Danny's daughter at all.
The loss created a sudden hole at the same instant his eyes sprung open, however he only could see the same rusted-out aluminum ceiling. The shed was hotter than before, much too hot, and he felt incredibly light-headed in its stagnant heat.
"Grace?" Steve whispered her name, his frown growing only in intensity when he looked to where she might have been crouched by his shoulder ... and saw no one. Confused and lethargic, what he thought he might have sensed seemed enough of a dream where he now doubted what he'd heard ... or even felt. With a dismal moan, his eyelids flagged. The ceiling of the shed shimmered brightly and then blurred into a mist before blinking out entirely.
~ to be continued ~