Chapter 14

Day 10

By the time the sun had risen, Mac and Joe were in New Jersey, well away from New York. The photos itself hadn't been a surprise and he had reluctantly stayed put while Joe had taken them. Moving between the chair and the van had been a lot harder than he'd anticipated and he had needed the other man's help just to shuffle into the back of the van. It became apparent that it had at one time been a utility van, judging by the empty racks and built in cases, probably for electrical maintenance. That didn't help him at all, as Joe had cuffed his hands to a ring welded into the floor of the van.

Sitting awkwardly on the floor of the van, he tried to brace himself as best he could while Joe started the van. Joe had discarded the blanket beside the wheelchair and Mac found that he missed the warmth and false comfort he had brought. He felt exposed sitting on the thinly carpeted floor of the van, an edge of one of the racks digging painfully into his right back, just shy of his spinal column. He knew it was going to leave a bruise when they went around the first corner. Even though Joe was driving sedately and staying well within the speed limit, it still pulled on his stitches as they switched lanes.

From his position on the floor, the skyline changed and he could name a few of the buildings as they moved through New York and then went over the George Washington bridge.

Unwelcome memories of his previous trip surged into his mind, and he had to forcefully remind himself that Joe needed him alive to have a play at getting his money back. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat and shifted, trying to get more comfortable. But like the times before, it didn't change anything and he could feel moisture start to soak the back of his top he wore, right where the stitches were.

The doctors are definitely not going to be happy, he thought, once he was back in New York.

Joe was silent throughout the trip, and Mac watched the sky lighten. They were well into rural New Jersey when Joe slowed the vehicle down and turned into what felt like a gravel road. Joe brought the van to a stop and when he slid the side door open, Mac could see an old colonial two storey house, nestled between two huge oak trees. There was a large screened in porch and the basement windows were barred. They were far enough away from any nosy neighbours that Joe didn't even look around as he reached into the van to unlock Mac's cuffs.

"There's nowhere to run." Joe said needlessly. Mac almost scoffed. He wasn't in any position to retaliate and even if he did manage to overpower Joe, he wouldn't get very far before Derrick would apprehend him.

Joe pulled his right arm over his shoulder and slid his other arm around Mac's waist as they slowly made their way up the pathway towards the house.

Derrick opened the door, which proved Mac's own theory that he wouldn't have gotten anywhere if he had tried to run.

"Help me with him. He's heavy." Joe grunted as they came to a standstill before the steps that led up to the porch.

Derrick grunted in annoyance and then quickly moved down the steps. The other man wasn't circumspect on how he approached Mac, and the detective barely managed to suppress a groan as the stitches on his back pulled when Derrick roughly pulled Mac's arm over his own shoulder. Something ripped and then he felt a trickle slowly start down his back.

"Come on then. Let's go." Derrick admonished as he started up the steps, almost dragging Mac up with him. In the end, he could barely keep his balance and wasn't surprised that by the time he went over the threshold into the house, his legs gave way. They dropped him in the hallway, Derrick turning to close and lock the front door while Joe stepped away into a side room.

"You left the package?" Derrick asked, moving past Mac and towards where Joe was leaning against a doorway, a bottle of water in his hand.

"Yes. Let's see how important you are to your people, detective." Joe said, before tilting the bottle and taking a long drink. Mac slowly sat up.

"You've made a mistake."

Joe raised both eyebrows as he studied Mac.

"Yeah? Why would you say that? Look at where you are? We are outside the jurisdiction of the New York office, even if they could track us here. Who is going to rescue you, detective?"

"Where is the boy?" Mac asked instead, keeping his gaze steady on the other man. He could feel a small, but steady growing bloodstain on his back, his top sticking uncomfortably against the wound as he moved but he refused to admit that he was in pain.

The water bottle looked enticing and he wondered what it would cost him if he was to ask for some water.

"You'll be with him soon enough." Joe said offhandedly as he turned to Derrick. Almost recklessly, he questioned the other man on his plans. Derrick threw a glance at Mac's way and then walked away, which was enough for Mac to realise that not all was well between the two men.

Joe let out a low expletive and Mac said nothing as the other man turned and walked back into the room. For a moment he was left alone in the hallway, and he wondered what to do next. There was nothing he could use as a weapon; the corridor was empty except for a threadbare carpet. Two rooms intersected from where he could see and then there were the stairs going up. He wondered where the boy was as he patiently waited for one of the men to come back. He knew better than to make any move towards freedom.

They were very confident that he wasn't going anywhere and they were right. Joe returned and bent down, he grabbed Mac under his arm and pulled him up. "Come on, it's not far."

"You're going to leave us here." Mac said, his voice cracking as his arm went around Joe's shoulders. Something else popped in his back and he couldn't hold back the pained response, grunting as they shuffled their way down the hallway, past the two doorways and the stairs. He had a glimpse, one led to a small open plan dining room and kitchen area and the other was a sitting room with a couch, two chairs and a TV that was on a football channel. Derrick was seated on the couch and didn't turn when they walked past, his attention on the beer he was nursing and the play that was happening on the screen.

"That's the plan. Once we're away and the money is paid, I'll let someone know where you are." Joe grunted as they stepped down the hallway. Mac didn't believe the other man. The callousness and recklessness with which he spoke to Derrick regarding their plans and also the furtive looks the man threw his way as they shuffled their way forward, all hinted at an ending that Mac was not going to participate in. Joe had already tried to murder him once, leaving his body in a ravine to rot away. It had been pure grace that he'd been found. He wasn't going to make it that easy again for the other man.

Joe brought him to a stop in front of a smaller, dirty beige coloured door. He reached into his jacket, leaving Mac to half lean against the wall as he searched and then found a key in his left-hand pocket. Joe glanced at him, taking in his reaction when he opened the door, to reveal a steep, open staircase that went down to the basement. His eyes widened briefly as he realised that he'd have to go down the stairs. Joe nudged him forward and he slowly managed to descend without tumbling down the stairs and potentially injuring himself even more than what he already was.

Upon reaching the final step, he looked around. There wasn't much to see. A few boxes had been pushed against the far wall, one split down the side and looked to hold some old curtains, the material spilling out and streaks of dark mould left shadowed footprints on it. Towards the middle, where an anchoring pole stood, the boy had been tied. Mac found himself stepping forward without Joe prompting him.

"Hey." He said softly when he reached the boy. Joe gave one last look around and seemingly satisfied, he moved back up the stairs. Mac heard the lock turn and then as he fully focused on the boy, the light went out.

Stella glanced at her watch as she exited the elevator. She had just spent the last hour in discussion with One PP and coordinating between Flack, her team and the senior brass around Mac's disappearance.

One of the interim staff of the mayor's office had asked why so many resources were spent on one man while the crime rate in the city had climbed in the last quarter and reflected badly on police effort regarding normal citizens.

She had come close to saying something that probably would've gotten her fired and Mac's case relegated to the cold case squad.

"How did it go?" Lindsy asked as she walked into Adam's lab. When she didn't answer, Lindsy nodded. "That bad, huh."

Her headache was back with a vengeance despite the Advil she had taken this morning. She turned to Adam, who was seated at one of the desks, three screens all open, showing various black and white images. Looking at them she counted four different vehicles, all at the point of exiting right where Flack said they would.

"Okay, what do we have so far?" Stella asked, taking the water bottle from Sheldon when he offered.

"These are all cars that left the hospital parking lot close to four am." Adam said, indicating with his hand to the screens. "I've cross-referenced them with the DMV. Two are doctors going off shift and I'm running facial rec to make sure but I think they're legit. That one," he said, pointing to a nondescript van, "is from a utility company that does maintenance. Danny is phoning the hospital administrators, asking if they had a work order come in and the last one is uhm…uncertain."

Stella frowned as she leaned in closer to study the screen.

"His face is hard to make out."

"Yeah. The number plate is obscured but it's a truck, so could be possible if they're on rural roads, you know. It rained last night in New Jersey."

"You think he took Mac back to the Palisades Interstate Park?" Lindsy asked, her eyes wide as the implication sinks in that Mac might already be dead. Stella didn't want to go there yet. They've already almost lost Mac, and it had really been because of Peter that he wasn't just another number to New York's crime stats.

"I don't know. He would be stupid to go back there." She said, "The park services are still combing through the ravine, looking for other bodies he might have dumped there. And Joe isn't stupid." She finally admitted.

"Okay."

"Oh."

Stella turned to Adam. He had removed some of the noise on the screens and he was now only focused on the two cars that were left. The van's occupant was obscured in darkness between the visor, a cap that had an electricity company's logo on it pulled low. He didn't look much like Joe but then the graininess of the feed can distort facial features when the image pixelated as they zoomed in.

"Adam…" She finally ground out when Adam didn't elaborate on his exclamation.

"There is an alert out on the truck."

"How…" she started to ask but Adam switched to a new set of images, those taken by traffic cameras in upper Manhattan.

"I could grab a partial of the back number plate and the make and year of the vehicle matches to a stolen truck out of New Jersey. Taken last night from a rural property close to Franklin."

"Hey, I just got off the phone…" Danny entered the room at a half-run, skidding to a stop when he noticed Stella.

"They didn't have a work order for anything yesterday. Just the camera maintenance that is done by security."

"Okay, so we have a stolen truck and a utility van. How far can you trace them, Adam?"

"Uh…" Adam turned back to the screen and then his fingers danced over the keyboard. "I'm running them both through my new algorithm I wrote…" he explained while he typed.

"How long?" Stella asked, knowing she was asking how long a piece of string is. There were a lot of variables to consider, and one where Mac isn't seen on any of the images that showcase the two vehicles.

"Uhm…thirty minutes give or take."

"I hate it." The voice was small, soft and scared. Mac slowly sank down, until he was seated next to the boy.

"The dark?" Mac asks. He hears JJ shuffle on the floor and then a warm body is pressed against him. He felt the nod from the boy as he leaned unashamedly against Mac.

"It sucks. There're rats here. Big ass New Jersey rats. One ran over my foot."

"Did you kick it?"

He felt the boy stiffen. And then relax. "Hell yeah."

"Good. Can't keep a New Yorker down. We've got rats the size of cats down in the tunnels."

The boy chuckled, letting out a soft breath as he relaxed.

"I'm Mac." He says as his fingers investigate the pillar until he encounters the rough edge of the rope that encircled the wooden pile. He traced it all the way down to the tail end that encircles the boy's hands.

"Peter went looking for you." The teen added as Mac found the knot.

"He found me." Mac said. "What is your name?" He tried the direct approach as he worked on untangling the knots.

"JJ."

"Good to meet you, JJ. Your friend saved my life." He kept up the conversation as he tried to ignore the cold that was seeping in through his thin pyjamas and tried to keep the teenager calm and focused away from their predicament. The bleeding on his back was slowing down a bit. It wasn't that bad considering but obviously not ideal. He wasn't going to be fighting or running away anytime soon, but that wasn't the plan.

He needed to get JJ mobile and lodged into a corner, maybe behind the conveniently stacked boxes.

"He's good like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mac grunted as his fingers slipped and he snagged a nail. He shook his hand out before continuing working the knots.

"They feed you?" He asked as the first knot finally released, coming apart in his hands.

"Some."

"What does 'some' mean? A burger? Fries?"

"A PB sandwich."

"Ouch." Mac said as another knot loosened and suddenly JJ moved next to him.

"Man…thanks."

"Hey, you're welcome. Think you can stand?"

"Sure."

"Okay, we'll be moving behind the boxes in the corner. Creating a little hidey hole."

"Why not go upstairs?" JJ asks.

"The door is locked. My friends are coming. We'll be safer down here."

"Oh. Okay. You need help, dude?"

"Yeah." Mac breathed but then grabbed hold of JJ's forearms as he rose. The stitches pulled and a fresh trickle started against his back, warm in the cold of the basement. They made their way gingerly towards the one wall and following the wall, they reached the boxes. Mac stubbed a toe against one of them and JJ left him leaning against the wall as he shuffled boxes together.

"Okay," JJ breathed, "Man, it stinks."

"It's the mould. Try not to breathe too deeply." Mac said as they finally settled behind the boxes. He directs JJ to pull the boxes close around them. The boy was a warm body right next to him. This close to the boxes the smell was worse. It wasn't just the damp, musty smell of the mould and rotting material but also an underlying sharp smell of something having died here. He wondered how many rat bodies they'll find in the boxes, which probably have become nesting warrens. Now wasn't the time to worry about it. They won't be here long enough to really be concerned about mould spores or rat droppings.

"Rats caused the bubonic plague."

Mac was surprised. JJ must've felt it because the boy gave a derisive chuckle.

"Peter likes discovery channels. We watch it sometimes. Also, his mom doesn't like things not being neat. They don't have much…but they're happy." JJ trailed to silence but there was so much more in what he didn't say. Mac didn't need to be a psychologist to see it.

"My wife died when the towers came down." Mac said softly after a while. "My whole world changed that day."

"My mom is a drug addict." JJ admitted. He leaned into Mac, shoulder to shoulder in the dark. Somehow finding comfort in that moment of shared trauma.

Flack pushed his automatic into its holster and reached for the jacket that was laid over the back of the chair that was pushed against his desk.

"Say again?" He asked, angling his mobile into his shoulder as he shrugged the jacket on. He signalled with one hand to the room of men, indicating to five of them to follow him.

"I've coordinated with the marshal service to provide backup."

"It's not really their jurisdiction, Stella." Flack told her. "How certain are you…"

"It's his wife's cousin's place. After he moved south, he never sold it. Joe knows that. It's rural, out of the way and fugitive recovery is what the marshal service does, Don."

He sniffed, entering the downstairs ready room. He signed a requisition form, watching as his men gathered bulletproof vests, guns and shock grenades.

"Fine. Who else are we meeting at what is it…Franklin?"

"I'm trying to organise with New Jersey to send some state cops. Adam is mapping out the property. Its farmland and open paddocks but the house has two huge oak trees that could give some coverage. I don't think Joe knows that we know who he is. He probably is waiting for the money to show up in his account and then he'll leave."

"Okay."

"I've sent you the coordinates. It's around an hour and forty-minute drive. By the time you get there, everything should hopefully be in place."

By the time Flack pulled into the gravel road that led to a neighbouring farm, the sky had darkened ominously. He checked the weather service after he came to standstill behind a van that had a state police logo painted on the side. Off to the side parked one behind the other were two big dodge trucks. Four men exited; their marshal service badges prominent on their belts. His men were busily gathering their equipment together where Flack and one of the men stepped to the barn where a state trooper waited.

"Don." He said, as he shook the marshal's hand and then the state troopers. The other men introduced themselves as Charlie and Jack. As they entered the barn, a rumble could be heard in the distance, the thunder a deep, troubling sign of what is to come.

"I've sent one of the locals to have a quick scope of the place." Charlie said as he stepped up to a topographic map that was open on a rough hewn, stained table that held an assortment of rusted metal and tools that had been pushed aside to make space.

"If we spook Joe…"

"He knows what he's doing, Don. He hunts and he grew up here. I trust him."

Flack nodded. He could understand that but still, involving the public wasn't something he was also entirely comfortable with.

Charlie, I'm on my way back.

The radio shattered the silence, turning Flack's attention from the map towards the state trooper.

Ten four. Estimated time?

Fifteen minutes give or take. Weather is looking a bit gnarly.

Charlie placed the radio on the table and, taking a marker pen, indicated a line from what Flack could only surmise was where they were currently parked towards a house set about a mile and a half away according to the map.

Another deep rumble sounded and then wind tucked at Flack's jacket and somewhere in the barn, a window or door slammed shut. He could smell the rain in the air as the temperature dropped.

"The weather isn't that bad." Jack said, looking out the door to the clouds that had darkened even more, with a slight green tinge to them. A twilight now hung over the sky even though it was close to 11. "It will mask us as we move closer. They won't see us coming."

"Yeah, we're still gonna get soaked." Flack switched on the torch that was pinned to his flack jacket, aiming it at the map as the gloom inside the barn increased that he could barely see the other two men.

"City life make you soft?" Charlie smiled.

"Nah. Just don't like getting wet." Flack jested as they all focused on the map. By the time Jason returned, entering the barn under the barrage of rain that had started five minutes ago, they had discussed and discarded three plans to breach the house.

What all of them agreed on was that they would have to keep the element of surprise. Joe was classed as dangerous and had already proven his willingness to kill. They didn't want to give him and Derrick the chance to take their revenge on Mac or JJ or use them as hostages, drawing out the game longer.

"I think he's keeping them in the basement." Jason said, indicating the blue plans of the two storied house. I saw movement in the kitchen and living room but not anywhere else. I didn't want to get any closer."

"No, you did good." Charlie said. "Okay, we go in here. A two-prong attack from the front and back. Don, if you and two of your men can cover this area, protecting the door to the basement, then the rest of us can sweep the house. Hopefully have those men in custody before anyone else dies today."

Mac had lost consciousness. He became aware, realising that he was half-propped up against the wall and JJ, the warmth of the other's body contrasting strongly against the damp cold of the basement. Rain was lashing against the boarded-up windows, a staccato on the tin roof, audible even here, beneath the house.

The darkness in the basement seemed to have taken on a physical presence. JJ's breaths were soft but fast and he realised that the boy was awake and frightened.

"Sorry, been a long night." He whispers, giving the boy a nudge.

"There's water…" They boy said and Mac realised that his feet were numb as was his backside. There seemed to be about an inch on the floor.

"Help me get up."

"Okay."

He couldn't feel his feet. "Do you know where the water is coming from?"

"One of the windows broke. Something fell against it. You slept through the noise." JJ admonished Mac.

"A way out?" Mac asked, squinting and then realising that he could see a sliver of something peeking through wooden slats in the opposite wall.

"Maybe. I don't know, man. Joe came to check on us earlier. He didn't care that we were sitting behind the boxes. He just switched off the light again and locked the door."

"When was this?" A sense of urgency came over him as he realised that he had no idea how long they've been down here.

"Uh…probably ten minutes or so." JJ hazarded a guess.

"Let's see that window." Mac said determinedly. JJ had to help him as they shuffled through rising water towards the far wall. Mac reached up and he barely reached the windows. The wall was wet and he could feel a breeze as it whistled through, between the boards. He shivered almost continuously now, aware that his body was starting to respond to the cold. A loud boom echoed around them and he pushed JJ down, using his body to shield the boy.

The boards above their heads splintered as a branch of the oak tree Mac had admired earlier tore away from its parent, sliding hallway through the window in a crash that sent splinters of wood, leaves and glass raining down on top of them.

"Did you see that?"

Don increased his speed, slipping on a patch of mud but he didn't care. Visibility was down to a few yards with the increased wind and rain slashing down. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his jacket but it didn't change a thing.

They've left caution behind. There was no chance in hell that Joe or Derrick would see them in the deluge coming down. He was already thoroughly soaked. One of the men following next to him swore, the words soft but loud enough that he sent him a warning look even as they closed in on the house.

The big old oak tree that sat on the west side of the house was listing badly. One of the huge side branches must've been rotted, because it had sheared off, big jagged wooden stakes shooting up into the dark grey skies like grasping hands reaching for life.

The branch was speared into the house, jutting out at an angle. Wind pushed against Flack and he staggered sideways. The house groaned, the oak listing another degree as the front door slammed open.

Joe staggered out. Even though about 200 yards separated the team breaching the front door from the kidnapper, Mac could see the blood streaming down the man's head. Charlie's team took charge as Flack and his team diverted to the back of the house. The back door was buckled inwards and as another gust of wind shear came down, the oak groaned as if in agony. Flack eyed it and then one of his men was breaching the door, slamming into it with a portable door ram.

Inside, everything was dark. He could hear Jack's team as they cleared the house but Flack's whole purpose was on the dirty white door to the left of the open back door that now barely clung to life, only being held upright by one hinge.

"Open it." Flack commanded, aware that the plan was shot to hell. Another loud groan came from outside, the dying tree almost seemingly vibrating against the wind and rain. The smell of rain increased, the temperature dropped and as they breached the door, hail started.

"Took your time, didn't you?"

He looked down the stairs. Three steps down, Mac stood. His arm around JJ, blood shaded his face red, his fingers white where he held onto the boy.

"Time to go."

He wasn't gentle as he grabbed Mac, pulling him up the stairs. They didn't have time. He knew it. Could feel it in the way the floor seesawed beneath his feet. JJ was already out the front door as he rushed down the hallway, dragging Mac with him.

They entered the downpour, hail stinging against skin and then with a last, terrorising crack, the tree uprooted. Flack swore even as he felt a passing branche barely miss them, ignoring Mac's grunts of pain, he forced his legs to carry both of them out of the path of danger while his mind screamed at him that he was too late.

The house imploded. There was no other way to describe it. Glass splintered, wood snapped and then there was silence. Even the hail seemed to have let up for those five minutes as he turned slowly, Mac still in his grip.

And realised how incredibly lucky they were.

The house was split into two, the oak nestled right in the hallway they had exited. Branches were still shedding leaves. One drifted down, landing on his foot.

It had been that close.

"You know, when I phoned you last night," Mac whispered, "I didn't really expect things to happen this quickly."

He gives Mac a look of disbelief. Dark circles painted his friend's eyes black while his face was bleached white. Pain hardened the lines and was evident in the short, shallow breaths that Mac took.

"Would've been nice to set things up a bit?"

Mac chuckles. "How did you find me?"

"Joe was sloppy. This is his wife's cousin's property. It made sense. Also, there was a random truck that had been stolen out of Franklin that left the hospital soon after you and Joe did in the van. They found the truck and the kid who stole it. So, Stella made an executive decision."

"Do I have a job when I get back?" Mac joked. Flack could feel him shiver, his words coming out through stuttering teeth.

"Stella said you can keep it. Otherwise she might shoot some poor sap who's just doing his job."

"Ah. She had to deal with the brass…"

"Come on." Flack said as finally two medical personnel closed around them. An ambulance, lights swirling in the rain that was still coming down, stopped short of where all of them had come to a standstill. Don helped Mac inside, thankful to be out of the rain.

"Hey Flack."

He looked up. Mac was on the gurney, a shock blanket around his shoulders while he was being looked over.

"Thank you."

He nodded. Stepped back out into the rain, aware that the day for him wasn't done.

But all in all, he felt good. Mac and JJ were safe. Joe and Derrick were in custody.

But more important. They were all alive.

One week later

It was just past ten, as Mac stepped into Starbucks. He had wondered at Sheldon's choice of venue but had been told that this would be fitting. The shop wasn't that busy this time of the day, the early morning rush had clearly passed.

He found them sitting at one of the back booths. Stella rose as he slowly made his way past the other tables and chairs.

"Hey Mac."

"Morning." He said, giving her a brief smile as his eyes alighted on the others.

"You doing okay?"

He nodded as he sat down in a chair across from Peter and JJ.

"Good to see you, JJ."

JJ nodded shyly. All that was left of his ordeal, was a neat row of three stitches over his eyebrow.

"Watch any more discovery channels?" Mac asked with a chuckle.

"A bit." JJ said.

"Hey Peter. I hear that you were the one that found me at the park."

"Uh, yeah."

Mac held his hand out across the table and waited until Peter took it. "Thank you." He said. "If you or JJ ever need any help, never hesitate to contact me, okay."

They spend a comfortable thirty minutes at the coffee shop. Drinking hot chocolate and eating pie. After that, he had one more stop to make before going home for the first time in three weeks.

He entered the police station, making his way to the interrogation rooms in the back. Flack had already set everything up and Joe was seated at the table, his hands cuffed to the table when he entered.

"You…"

"Nowhere to go now, Joe." He said finally, sitting across from the man.

"You were dead."

"And you were greedy. If you had left after you attempted to murder me, you would've been outside our jurisdiction and became another fugitive. On the radar but not important enough for a full-scale manhunt."

Silence stretched between them. Mac rose when it became clear that Joe wasn't going to say anything more than what he'd already had.

"You lost, Joe. And not because of my team and what they did. But because of two teenage boys that took it upon themselves to be a difference. Because you underestimated others' willingness to care."

He left the fuming man alone and went home. And as he sat down and switched on his TV, he flicked through the channels until he got to the discovery channel.

A fitting ending, he thought as he settled down to watch a documentary on the plagues of the Middle Ages.

A fitting ending I think. Watching the show, sometimes their endings left a few openings too. ;-) But all in all, I had fun writing this. My whole purpose was to try my hand at a case fic and I think this kinda worked. Would love feedback if you enjoyed this and thank you so much for those that took the time to read this. Till next time.