Chapter Text

Peter’s courage

by

Whashaza

Chapter 1

Day 1

Hazel eyes, wild hair and a face framed in classical Greek lines, Stella Bonasera was a fighter wrapped up in a small package. She took a breath, letting herself relax while the gun settled heavy in her hand. She smelled her own fear and of those who surrounded her. She tried not to over analyse as she noticed the empty bins kicked over and the overgrown grass that was softly trampled as the SWAT team made their way silently around the house. Flack was comfortingly close. If she reached out, she could touch him. He looked back briefly at her and she nodded quickly, acknowledging her readiness for the next part of this puzzle to be completed. She saw determination settle like a blanket on his shoulders and then the lead swat guy burst through the door. She heard boots trample over wooden floors as she followed close behind Flack, spilling into the house that suddenly screamed emptiness.

Stella stood in the hallway, unable to comprehend the truth of what she was seeing and hearing.

Flack returned to her, touched her arm briefly and as she focused on him, he said, "There's no one here. This place is empty."

She didn't have time to allow the alarm that flooded her system to take a hold. There was no time. Mac was alone in a car with Joe and had no idea that the guy he was trying to save was a liar. She barely glanced at Flack as she dialled a number, hoping they weren't too late.

"Take the next left."

Mac was just starting to explain to Joe why it'd be quicker to through the city when he heard the familiar sound of a gun being cocked. He knew that he had accounted for all the bullets, including the one that Joe had already discharged in the bank. There was only one logical conclusion, one he didn't want to contemplate but he had no choice. So, he said, "You kept a bullet?"

Joe didn't answer, his gun pointed at Mac. The CSI felt numb and angry, all at the same time. He couldn't and didn't want to believe that he had been fooled so badly by this man that at one point had looked pitiful and desperate. Now all he saw is what he had missed all the time he had spent with this man. The duplicity and lies that he has weaved to tell his story. The intelligence to use him to get out of the bank.

"Take the bridge."

Mac indicated his direction, smoothly turning lanes. In the process, his knee pressed against his radio, switching it on.

"The story about your family was all a lie, wasn't it?"

He caught Joe's eyes again and this time Joe lashed out, slamming the butt of the gun down on his shoulder. For a moment the car weaved and then he was back on track.

"Keep your eyes on the road."

His shoulder ached and Mac could feel the bruise forming.

"Where are we going?"

"What's it to you? Just keep driving."

He tried to think of ways out of his situation but at this stage nothing presented itself as a viable option. Talking wouldn't get him very far. Joe was determined and focused on what he was doing. Houses flashed past and then they were off the interstate, entering Jersey at the backside of the statue. The wheels crunched on the gravel and sand, silently bringing the car to a stop when Joe told him too. He heard the other car and as his eyes reflectively went to the rear-view mirror, Joe leaned forward and Mac felt a blinding pain and then nothing more as the butt of the gun bounced off his skull.

Stella Bonasera could feel each thump of the helicopter. Could feel it behind the aching headache as she scanned the roads beneath her. Her concern for Mac was as real as the sound that vibrates around her. So far, no reports on anyone finding the car. She was all too aware how big New York was and how many holes and spaces there were to disappear into. How short a space of time they had to find Mac before the likelihood of finding him alive dwindled away into the negative numbers.

"Any news?" she asked Flack over the radio as the pilot made another sweeping turn on the roads below her.

"No. We put out an APB on the car. Adam said that he'll work on the traffic cameras to try and see if he could follow the car after the last sighting."

Flack's voice was flat and sounded tinny over the receiver.

Stella looked at her watch and then ignoring the little voice inside her saying it has been 2 hours, scanned the road beneath her. Hope burned inside her, still bright but with each passing minute hand it seemed to fade a little.

It's Mac, she thought. He was a marine. He can handle this. He'll be okay.

She took a deep breath, centred herself and continued her scan of the roads beneath her.

Danny knew that Adam didn't like it when stood over him and looked at the screen but he couldn't help himself. He watched as the tech's fingers danced over the keyboard. Blocks of code seemed to appear out of thin air.

"Anything yet?"

He turned, watching as Lindsey entered the room. Her eyes reflected his own concern. He shook his head and turned back to watch the screens. The original program they had used didn't have enough parameters and it had failed just after the car Mac was in had gone over the bridge. Adam had changed it somehow, adding extra parameters and was now constantly having to fix bugs that had crept in after he had hacked the program.

"Done."

Adam leaned back, hit enter and they all turned to the second screen that showed the traffic videos. A red light blinked and then the image's speed increased until they could barely follow the flow of cars around the city. Now and again, it would stop briefly, centre a green block around a black blob and then continue.

Danny hadn't realised that he was holding his breath until a nudge from Lindsey reminded him to breathe. He blinked and then the images just stopped.

"What happened? Come on, Adam. Dude, you need to get this working."

"I did."

Danny looked at Adam and back at the blank screen.

"I don't see anything."

"Oh, sorry. Just let me...", Adam mumbled, hitting a few keys and then the images reversed and stopped.

Mac's face was staring right at the camera, Joe's a blurry blob behind him.

"Ok, where's this," Danny asked, daring to hope even as his hand reached for his phone.

"Just outside Jersey," Adam replied. "But Danny, I can't find him after that. I tried. Maybe if I add more parameters..." Adam trailed off, his face showing his frustration.

"No, you did good Adam." He gave the tech a squeeze on his shoulder as he finally connected with Stella.

"We have a last known location. Just outside Jersey on the off ramp to the river."

Danny listened as Stella gave the pilot instructions. His eyes darted back to the timestamp and he swallowed the fear he felt brewing.

The time stamp on the video glared back in yellow.

The last known video of their boss was 3 hours old.

It took 2 more hours before they found the car. Stella had the pilot canvas the area and for some unknown reason had decided to look along the Jersey shore. As they had made another sweep of the same area, she had noticed the shimmer of something dark in the water. The probabilities were astronomical, as the river wasn't the cleanest or clearest to work with. She had known divers that had gotten disoriented in the murky water. But for some reason, maybe the angle of the helicopter combined with the sun's rays had allowed her to catch a glimpse of something lurking.

Her heart had sunk when she had seen the obvious dumping spot but she still clung onto the sliver of hope. Flack, Danny and Lindsey met her on the shore, their faces grim as they had watched the diver squad hook up the car and as it was slowly pulled back ashore.

As one, without a spoken command they moved to the car as it settled back on the sand, water cascading off the edges. And a tension they had all felt suddenly released when they saw the car was empty.

"Nobody is good, right?" Lindsey asked quietly.

Stella didn't answer, instead she focused on what she could see of the waterlogged interior.

Abruptly she turned, caught Don's eye and moved away.

"You think they took him with them?" the detective asked, his voice quiet but a steady determinism steeled around it.

"I don't know?" The logical part of her brain was saying - Why would they? What possible use could Mac be to Joe and his partner?

"How strong is the current?", she asked Flack, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Around here? The boys say the car windows were up. His ...his body would've been still in the car..." Flack trailed off, staring at the river. But even though he knew that the divers were still canvassing downstream. "You think he maybe got out before the car was submerged? Swam it out?"

"Maybe." She gave a sigh.

Dammit Mac , she thought. Where are you?

It took an hour before they got the car back to the lab. By then the stink of the river had settled in the interior. Mud was steadily drying on the wheels and even though all the doors had been opened the going was slow. The CSI's worked steadily, methodically through the remains of the car. Scrutinising each small find.

It took 4 hours to finally come up with nothing.

The river had erased what little trace evidence there was.

Nothing remained of Mac's abduction in the car.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Day 2

Peter Kaa Junior has lived most of his life inside the city. He was a tall boy, big for his age and his mom always explained to him what a great rugby player he’d make. He had never been interested in rugby and couldn’t understand the fascination his islander mom had with the sport. He’d tried his hand at it once but didn’t like the sport. It was too aggressive to his liking. And just because he’s big doesn’t mean he wants to pummel his friends into the ground. He could still hear his mum “tut-tut” when he came home and told her he’d much rather want to be a carver like his dad.

“There’s no money in it, boy,” she’d say with a sad, faraway look in her eyes and he knew that she’d be thinking of her home in the big pacific where the sun showered bright rays through the palm trees. Where the voices of the woman would rise in song in the morning and the men all go out to sea to fish.

He had once asked her why she had left and a great sadness had overcome her. She had turned away from him and told him not to ask again.

Not until he’s a man.

He was 16 years old and he felt old.

He looked at the dead face of his father, his mother wailing and wondered what he was supposed to do next.

Adam felt that he had failed. Failed Mac. Failed his teammates. Most of all, he had failed himself. The hacked program wasn't working anymore. He had gone past the point of no return, the code so mashed and rewritten that it was unworkable. He blinked at the screen, trying to look busy even as his mind was berating him for not doing enough.

"You okay, Adam?"

He jumped a little, felt the chair move and he grabbed the desk even as the wheels slid out from under him. His right hand in the process of grappling for something secure to hold onto, instead smashed his keyboard. A moment later he was looking up at Lindsey's concerned features from his position on the floor, the keyboard clutched uselessly in his hands.

"Come on, let me help you."

He nodded and let her help him, his face burning with shame.

"I'm okay," he mumbled, eyeing her reaction from underneath his eye lashes as he reattached the keyboard.

"Stella asked if you could help out with the tire threads we had found."

He nodded, turning back to his computer, trying not to look at the big list of error messages that still showed on his screen. He closed the page, took a deep breath and clicked on the image file that Stella had sent him. A chair creaked and the welcome presence of Lindsey settled next to his side.

A new determination settled on him.

They'll find Mac.

They have too.

Stella knew why she hated the bureaucracy of dealing with the brass. There was a reason why Mac was usually the one to deal with them. Now it seemed that the resources that were usually so easily attained, were a little harder to come by.

“It was Mac Taylor that allowed the bank robber to walk out that door. If it wasn’t for his incompetence…”

She felt her anger simmer, and knew it was close to exploding. She needed to contain the situation, contain her fear and anger, as both of those emotions were not going to help her in dealing with the commissioner she was currently facing. 

"This is all about your choice, Commissioner. You alone. But I can assure you that my team and I will use whatever resources and skills we have to find Mac Taylor. He's an integral part of the team that brings in a high rate of convictions that make you look good."

"We can't be seen to favour our own people above the general public, Bonasera. You have a dead body in the park and two break-ins at the mayor's office. There is also the aftermath of the bank heist..."

He turned away, turned his back on her. She was being dismissed like a junior clerk and she didn't like that at all.

And this wasn't just about Mac. This was about each cop and csi in the city. It was about trust.

"You sure you want to do this, Commissioner," she growled, her anger palatable in the room. "Because if you go this route, every cop will take an extended break and you will have no police force in the city. Mac means that much to everyone."

"Are you threatening me? In my office?"

"No. Just stating facts."

Silence reigned and she could see the impact her words were having in the way he tightened his lips and stared her down. She knew without a doubt that she had made any enemy that she would never be able to turn her back on.

But for Mac she'd do that.

For Mac she'd go to hell, and back. Because she knew he'd do the same for each one of the team.

"Fine. You have one week. After that it's back to business as usual and you only assign whatever resources you have available. And I'll keep an eye on your budget, Detective. If there is one cent spent that shouldn't have been, I'll have your badge."

"Are you finished?"

"Yes, detective. You may go," the last was said with a measured smile, perfect white teeth.

Stella stalked past him, out the door, slamming it closed behind her. She ignored the surprised look from the secretary as she made her way to the lifts, jabbing at the button until the doors opened.

She slid inside and as the door closed, she phoned Flack.

"What happened?"

"Things have changed."

Peter sat with his mom in the family room at the hospital, awkwardly patting her hand. Her grief was silent now, the wailing having turned into disbelief. Now and again her shoulders would tremble and she’d press the soaked hanky to her face.

He didn’t know what to feel yet. It was too unreal. Too far removed from his uneventful, happy family life until now. They had never had much in terms of material stuff but that had never bothered him.

If he closed his eyes, he saw his dad’s face.

Saw his mom’s grief.

He took a deep, shuddering breath.

Boys don’t cry.

And so, he sat and tried his best to listen as the doctors explained about myocardial infarction and recovery rates and oxygen saturation and all he could really understand was that his dad was really really sick and might still die despite it all.

It felt too much.

But he was a man now.

And so, he did his best to comfort his mom and tried not to think too much about what would happen if his dad died.

He knew he had a concussion from the nausea that didn't seem to want to go away, coupled with disorientation and a blinding headache. He breathed a little slower, trying not to throw up.

"You should've killed him back at the shore."

Mac listened as Joe and his partner fought over him. He was on the floor next to a radiator. His hands were uncomfortably twisted behind him and cuffed to the steel pipe that slipped into the wall.  He thought about opening his eyes again but light seemed to increase his headache exponentially and he didn't want to risk another session with the mercenary's boot if he threw up again. 

"Bide your time." His instructor's words at boot camp seem to echo in his head. "Wait until they make a mistake." But his marine training seemed too far removed.

“Look at him. He’s no threat.”

“Yeah, you’d think if we let him live that he’d pinkie promise not to talk about us?”

“Come on Derrick, if we killed him the police would be all over us. Just leave him here. This apartment’s all paid up until the end of the month. It’d take a while before someone comes looking.”

Mac heard rustling of clothes and footsteps. A moment later he nearly threw up on Derrick as the other man roughly pulled him up, pushing the Glock against his forehead. He stared through slit eyes, the hazy view of the other man barely registering.  He could feel blood dripping down his hands from where the cuffs had slit into his wrists. Joe stepped up and pushed his partner away and Mac dropped raggedly back down on the floor.

“Are you insane? That gun goes off and the cops will be here in no time.”

“Look at where we are, Joe. You think the neighbours are gonna care about a gun going off?”

Mac heard the front door open and slam shut. He focused on his breathing while he tried to get as comfortable as he could.

Breath in.

Wait.

He could do that.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Day 3

Peter’s foot struck the tin can and he watched it strike the wall a little further down the alley. He barely noticed the scuff mark on his shoe, something that would’ve bothered him a few days ago. His world was caving in around him and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it. His mom barely moved from the hospital bed where his dad was encased in wires. If he closes his eyes, he can see the heartbeat on the screen that shows his dad is still alive.

He kicks another tin can, the sound of it hitting another can vibrating around the alley. Life wasn’t fair and he was quickly learning the meaning of that. He swallowed the lump in his throat and then angry at himself for feeling sad, he kicked another can. But this one was bigger, had jagged edges and cut into his shoe like a knife through butter.

Yup, life wasn’t fair. But the blood now welling from his shoe and the throb in his toes was his own fault. The common sense installed in him from his parents at a young age took over and he bent down to have a look at his foot.

“Whatcha doing Peter?”

He glanced up at JJ. The other boy was skinny, all bones and nasty. He wasn’t in the mood for any of the antics of JJ and not at all happy that the other boy was seeing him like this.

“Just go home, JJ.”

“Why?”

Peter stood up, using his height and weight as an advantage. He knew the other boy wouldn’t try anything. He was bigger and stronger and JJ knew that.

“It’s all right, man. Just heard your old man isn’t doing so well.”

“He’s good.”

“Yeah?”

Peter gave a sigh. He knew JJ never knew the concept of a good father. His mom was barely there, a drug addict that took men like some kids ate sweets. He felt sorry for the other boy but he had his own problems to deal with and just wasn’t in the mood to chat.

“Just go home, JJ” he reiterated again.

“Ah, screw you,” JJ swore and then stormed off, leaving Peter alone. The taller boy watched the back of the other boy, noticing the worn shirt and old sneakers. He shook his head, turned and made his way towards the fire escape. It didn’t take him long to have the ladder slip down and he made his way up the stairs to his family’s apartment. It was his back-way in. A lot better than the front door that occasionally housed a pimp or junkie looking for a score.

He made his way to the bathroom and gingerly took off his shoe. The cut on his toes wasn’t too bad. He cleaned it, put some plaster on the cut and then limped his way to the kitchen.

Everything was dark. Not at all like he was used to coming home too. Usually, his mom would be humming a song while she swayed to it in front of the stove. She loved making fish and the smell of coconut and spices would drift through their tiny apartment.

He opened the fridge and then closed it again. It was pretty much empty, as he knew it would be.

There was no more money in the kitty ornament that was kept aside for emergencies. His stomach rumbled but he wasn’t really in the mood to go back down the stairs. Instead, he crept into his bed, closed his eyes and slept.

JJ waited until it was dark. He was fuming but he knew that in a sense, Peter was kinda his only friend. The only one who didn’t bully or hit or scream at him. It was bad about Peter’s dad but he didn’t know what to say. Or do. He waited until his mom had left by the front door, her eyes dark with need as she scurried like a rat down the street. He knew she wouldn’t be back until dawn.

Clenching his hands, he wiped them off his pants before strolling into the door of the apartment building. He ignored the passed-out drunks as he wearily made his way up the stairs and then down the hallway to where he stays. A big black man he didn’t know brushed past him, carrying two black bags.

“Hey man, watch it.”

The other man didn’t even acknowledge him, instead he took the stairs two at a time as he bounded down it. He knew he shouldn’t get involved, and usually doesn’t. But he was still angry at Peter. And he was curious.

So, he did what he did best. He melted away in the background, hiding in a darkened part of the stairwell and waited until the other man came back up. JJ watched as the other man entered an apartment hallway down the hallway, slamming the door shut.

He crept closer, hearing strong whispers. He made his way past the apartment door that had swung open and glanced inside to see a white man lying on the floor next to a radiator. His eyes met the other man’s but by that time he heard footsteps coming closer and JJ quickly made his way around the corner, careful not to make a sound as the door slammed shut.

JJ didn’t want to get involved.

It’d be better if he forgot what he saw.

Midnight came and went. Mac was still in that crummy apartment, the smell of his vomit at times overwhelming to his senses. His stomach churned but he swallowed the urge, breathing slowly through his mouth. He had run out of time. He was smart enough to know that with the sudden guilty looks Joe would give him while Derrick was splitting the bills into two piles on the coffee table.

"I know this spot in the Palisades. Private. They won't find his body for years," Derrick stated quietly. "He is your mess. Make sure it doesn't come back to bite us."

Mac watched Joe shift from one foot to the other. "My people will find you."

Derrick stopped what he was doing, stepping over to where Mac was lying on the floor. "Good job they've done so far," the black man smirked. Drawing back his foot, he kicked Mac in the side and when the CSI grunted and curled away, he drew his foot back and gave another kick until Joe grabbed his arm. "That's enough. I'm not carrying him out of here." Dropping a swear word, Derrick twisted his arm out of the smaller man's grip and stomped back to the coffee table. Throwing Joe another look, he grabbed the two black bags that were seated on the couch.

"I'll be back in five. Clean up the table."

Mac waited until the door closed before he said, "Joe, it is not too late."

"Just shut up, okay. You have no say in my life. I'm not going to jail, all right."

Mac breathed, praying that Joe would listen. That he could somehow work his magic and get Joe to turn on his partner.

"We can work out a deal. You can turn state evidence..."

Mac trailed off. Joe had walked out the room, leaving him alone. It wasn’t long before Derrick returned to the apartment, glancing in his direction. Not seeing Joe, he stepped into the other room. Mac struggled to hear the angry whispered words. What drew his attention was the door to the hallway that had swung open and the pair of eyes staring frightened back at him. It was a different boy this time. Bigger, less street savvy. His eyes glittered in the overhanging low light of the hallway. But Mac could see determination too.

Hope flared briefly.

“Call 911”, he mouthed, aware that this opportunity might be short-lived. The boy looked to the side and then he was gone. Mac dropped his head, too tired to fight. He heard a shuffle and then the boy was inside the apartment, eyes wide with fear as he glanced at the door to the other room.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Mac Taylor. Please, I need help…”

“I can’t call the cops.”

Mac knew there was no time for debate. “Call 555-7845. It’s my friend’s number.” He trailed off when he heard a scuffle in the other room. Then the boy was gone. The door swung silently on its hinges as Joe and Derrick entered the room. Derrick glanced suspiciously at the front door before meaningfully turning to Joe.

“I’m getting the car. Get him ready.”

Mac grunted in pain as Joe released the handcuff from the radiator to enclose it again on his wrist.

“Joe?”

“Just don’t. Shut up, okay. Just…shut up.”

Mac knew it was no use. He gritted his teeth as he was roughly pulled into a standing position. He had no choice but to lean into Joe. They shuffled their way out of the apartment, down the steps and into the back seat of the sedan that Derrick was driving.

And through it all not one of the passed-out drunks and pimps said one word as Mac was forced past them.

“Don’t be a snitch. Those are not nice people, Peter. They’d kill you.”

“So why did you come to me then?”

“Man, I shouldn’t have told you, okay.  Just let it go. Please.”

“Why?”

“Because, as a friend, I’m asking you to butt out okay. If the cops come here…my mom…man., just forget it okay.”

Peter watched JJ. He knew the real reason why the other boy didn’t want the cops. But he couldn’t get over the fact that this was somebody who needed help.

But he was well aware of the no snitching rule in the community. He turned away from JJ and stared out the window of his family’s apartment. Not that there was much to see this early in the morning.

“They left. Just let it be, okay.”

He nodded, not entirely sure yet of what he wanted to do. He heard the other boy leave. A short time later he heard his alarm going off and his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning and he was hungry.

Peter sighed deeply. Ignoring the hunger pans, he made his way out of the apartment.

It’s time to find out how his dad was doing.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Day 4

It took two days. Two days of working around the clock and Stella knew that the team had reached their limit. She felt the tiredness settle in her bones and knew that if she sat still long enough, she would fall asleep. The screen blurred and refocused and she blinked against the strain. She knew if she looked in the mirror, her eyes would be starring back at her - red eyed and droopy.

She couldn't hide the worry lines anymore. She suddenly felt her age.

The tire tracks had come back generic. Adam had gamely continued reworking his code and she had ended up forcing him to bed an hour ago. She knew more than anyone that sleep deprivation was never helpful when you’re trying to apply your mind to complex and difficult abstract concepts. Lindsey and Danny had settled on the couch in Mac's office, both unashamedly asleep in each other’s arms. Her phone buzzed and she slipped out of Mac's office, answering the phone a short distance away.

"Sorry, Stella. There's just nothing for the boys to go on. "

Flack’s voice sounded tired. She knew that he was working as hard as them to find any leads on Mac or his abductors.

"I understand. Go home, Flack. Get some sleep. And tell the guys, thanks."

"Yeah, ok."

She closed the connection. There was no time for drama. No throwing tantrums at the unfairness of it all. There was nothing for them to do right at this moment. No leads. No teasers. Nothing but an empty ache inside her and a gnawing in the bottom of her stomach.

She didn't want to even contemplate that they might've missed some vital clue.

That they hadn't done enough.

She turned blindly and walked away. The noise of the city woke her and she found herself down 55th Avenue. The moon was out, the stars barely shining through the brightness of the city. She found that her phone was still clutched in her hand and she wondered how she had gotten so far and not have been aware of the buzzing feel in her hand.

The number was unknown and she frowned. Staring at the phone and then her brain caught up and she warily opened it.

"You looking for that cop that went missing?"

Her heart skipped a beat and then she came fully awake. Suddenly aware that she was nowhere near the lab for a trace, she breathlessly answered yes.

"I've seen him."

All business now, she closed her eyes and turned to go back, her footsteps seeming to echo back at her from the buildings around her. "Where?"

"Is there some kind of reward?"

And then she realised. Her number is private. Only her work colleagues have it. There was no way this was just a random phone call.

"Yes."

"How much?"

She had no number to give him. No set reward had been set out yet. The search was 3 days old. Still too young for the politicians to be involved and she was acutely aware of how slowly the bureaucracy churned at One Police Plaza.

She made up a number.

"Not enough."

And then silence. She blinked, looked at her phone staring silently back at her. Wondered how that had happened. But she still hurried back, phoning Adam and feeling only a little guilty about it.

"Adam, can you trace the last incoming call to my number."

"Wha..", she could hear Adam wake up. She gave him little time to process. Little time to clear the fog of deep sleep she knew he must've slipped into.

"My phone. Someone called about Mac?"

She heard him take a deep breath. Heard a rustle that must've been his bedding. "Yeah. Just gimme a few okay. I need to get back. Uhm. Is he okay?"

"I don't know yet. Whoever it was that called me hung up."

She didn't want to go into the details. It felt too soon. Not enough time. She entered the building, her phone tight in her fist. Staring at it and willing it to ring again. But it stayed silent. Stubbornly so.

Danny and Lindsey were standing behind Adam as the tech was working his magic. Stella saw him rubbing his eyes, knew that they were burning from lack of sleep and staring at the computer screen too long. But of all of them, he was the only one really who could do this.

"Got it. 555-4546"

She barely registered the number. Her fingers were already pressing the buttons and she turned away, not wanting to see her own hope reflected back from her colleagues' faces.

All it did was ring.

No one answered and she suddenly felt disappointment settle around her like a blanket, refusing to let go.

"Can you triangulate the phone's position in any way?" she asked, ignoring the quick wipe that Lindsey gave her eyes.

"If it is an iPhone, then maybe. But the number isn't registered." Adam said, focused on the information in front of him.

"A burner. Untraceable?"

"I didn't say that."

Hope guiltily flared a little again.

Adam turned, serious and suddenly, he looked a little less innocent. A little more mature.

"I need a little space, ok." His eyes averted and then he was the old Adam again, pleadingly eyeing her from underneath his eyelashes. " Please."

She nodded, motioning to Danny and Lindsay. They exited the lab and she pretended that everything was going to be ok.

But to be on the safe side she tried the number again. Listening to it ring. Closing the connection and then trying again.

Maybe he'd answer and it would be Mac. Not some mystery voice that sounded threatening and rough.

Hope was sometimes a cruel creature. But she kept trying anyway.

Adam waited until the door had closed and he was all alone. Only then did he allow what he was about to do to sink in. The enormity of it hitched his breath but he knew that for Mac he'd do anything.

Opening a web page, he typed in a URL. One that he had never used but knew about from his techie friends.  His hands felt sweaty and he wiped them on his pants. The code was there, to be used. But highly illegal and oh so wrong. If Mac was here, he'll gladly be fired. But Mac would be safe and if it cost Adam his job, then that is the road he'll gladly walk.

He took another deep breath and then started delving into the code.

Peter made sure he wiped the phone clean. He wrote a brief note and left it and the phone on the table.

He needed money. Badly. But what the cop had said was not enough. His dad needed more help and that cost money.

He thought that maybe this way he could help Mac Taylor out. And his own family. He felt a presence in the room and when he turned, he saw JJ standing in the doorway.

“What did you do?”

He shrugged. What was there to say?

“You promised you wouldn’t call them. They left. They’re not even here anymore, man.”

JJ pushed him, and Peter stumbled back against the table. The phone tumbled to the floor, the note a brief white flutter against the dark before sliding underneath a couch.

JJ made a grab for the phone, his fingers scratching against the grain of the wood. But he missed as Peter charged at him.  They both stumbled into the hallway, the fight messy and not one of them really landing any blows hard enough to draw blood.

“Oi, whatcha boys doing?”

They both stopped, glaring at each other as a huge islander made his way down the hallway. Peter knew him. Knew him to be a nasty mean drunk who had no compunction to hit others if he felt like it.

“Nothing man,” JJ mumbled, shuffling out of the way. Peter stood his ground. He was tired of all this crap.

“You looking for something, boy?”

“No.”

The other man leaned in, his breath stinking of alcohol. “Just cause your dad’s sick, doesn’t mean you don’t show me respect, boy.”

“Yeah, respect has to be earned.”

Peter didn’t see the fist coming. But he felt it. He reeled back into the wall and the second blow landed and he folded over to see a knee coming up to his face. He felt his nose crumble and then JJ was there, placating the other man and helping Peter up from the floor. The other man grunted and then turned away, making his way down the hallway and to his own apartment. Peter felt the blood drip from his broken nose as he tried to get breath back into his lungs.

“Man, you’ve gone stupid or what? Why’d you do that for?”

“Just leave me alone,” Peter said, pushing JJ away. He ignored the hurt look on the other boy’s face as he made his way slowly back to his own apartment. A moment later JJ slipped under his arm. He didn’t say anything as he leaned against the other boy.

“Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up okay.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Day 4

He thought about the day the towers came down. He thought about Claire and the way her hands had played through his hair. How he had always seemed to find his rest in her. How she had centred his soul. And the incredible loss he had felt that day.

He stumbled over a root and went down, the knuckles on his right-hand scraping on a stone hidden in the leaves.

"Get up."

He squinted back, his eyes still giving him trouble and all thought of Claire and the towers and his hurt fled away. Joe met his gaze unflinchingly.

A hand grabbed his shirt, roughly pulling him up and then shoving him in the back. "Get moving."

The forest around them was quiet. There was no refuge. No peace.

They were alone and Mac knew that this deep in the woods the chances of anyone finding his body was slim to remote. His body ached, multiple bruises competing with his headache.

"Joe, you need to think about this." His voice was raw and sounded dry and brittle in his ears. Joe didn't answer. So, he kept walking.

Flack slipped on his bullet proof, the heaviness of the vest settling on his shoulders. There was a hive of activity around him from other officers, everyone doing his or her thing to get ready for a potential explosive situation. Adam had come through. He had no idea how but had managed to trace the phone to an east Bronx address. The police detective had no idea what they'd be walking into but it was better to be safe. The only way that the person who had phoned Stella had come by the number must have been because Mac had given it.

"You ready?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, let’s go."

Danny was right behind him, covering his back as they quietly and quickly made their way up the stairs. The hallway was dark which wasn't too good. He waited until everyone was in position before he knocked on the door.

"NYPD, open up."

There was no answer and he tried again before moving away, watching as the door splintered open. It took all of 15 seconds for him to realise that no-one was home.

Don felt angry. He turned around, walked down the stairs while ripping at the Velcro strapping of his vest.

Mac , you'd better not be dead. You hear me. You'd better not be dead.

The rest of the CSI team was waiting downstairs, bags already in hand. His disappointment wasn’t that hard to read.

“It’s clear. No one is around.”

Stella nodded and then gathered strength from somewhere. It was a visible transformation, a thinning of her lips as she pressed them together and she put a hand briefly on his arm before the whole group moved past him and up the stairs.

Following the other man’s commands, Mac stopped and turned. They were on the edge of a small ravine, a stream flowing swiftly down the bottom. Mac could hear the water clearly. He glanced down the hillside that was steep and boulder strewn with small bushes and trees hugging the incline.  He faced Joe as the other man lined up his gun. “No hard feelings,” Joe said and pulled the trigger.

Mac felt the bullet slam into him. He stumbled backwards and then he was airborne.

He slammed into the ground, momentum rolling his body further down the ravine. He felt a rib give way when he hit a hidden boulder and then his feet splashed into the river.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the trauma of what he’d just experienced. He lay quiet, too dazed to think past what had just occurred. Then darkness edged into his vision and he lost consciousness.

Lindsey was standing in the chaos of the main living room. Somewhere in this room there might be a clue on the owner of the phone. There might be a lead that could tie back to where Mac was. A nondescript couch was placed in the middle of the room, the floor covered by a dirty brownish coloured carpet. She wrinkled her nose. The rank smell of days old vomit permeated the room.

"You ready to do this?"

Danny put his case right next to her, taking his time to survey the room.

They both looked at the coffee table that had already been processed; the bright pink powder visible against the dark texture of the wood.

"Stella said that they've asked Adam to process the call history of the phone." Danny said, picking up his kit and moving to the right side of the room where he could better process the scene.

"Adam will find something. He always does," Lindsey answered, hoping that by saying the words they'd turn out to be self-fulfilling.

The evidence was overwhelming. Stella tried to think back on what they'd usually mean. What it means for Mac. The scuff marks of a size 13 boot. The blood and small splinters that had broken off when someone had scratched into the wood. The vomit - obvious signs of a possible concussion. Gauge marks on the radiator pipe where it seems he had been cuffed. The movement of dust around that area was enough that she knew that Mac had been cuffed at the same spot for the better amount of time that they had been searching for him. A quiet knock had her look away from the evidence on her screen and up into Sheldon's concerned face.

"The fingerprints in the apartment came back positive for Derrick James. We still don't know who Joe is. He isn't in the system."

She nodded, suddenly feeling the lack of sleep of the last few days acutely.

"You okay, Stella?"

"Yeah, just feeling my age," she replied. "Any other results back?"

"The vomit is definitely Mac's. Lindsey double checked. There is no blood so something to be thankful for."

"He's smart."

Sheldon had a questioning look on his face.

"Joe. Derrick might be the muscle but Joe. He's smart. He is not making it easy. We don't know anything about him. And he did this professionally enough that it tells me that he has done this before. Have gotten away before."

"That means there might be bank heists with similar MO’s." Sheldon was already turning to the door. "I'll talk to Flack. See what he can turn up."

Sheldon was outside her office, already talking on the phone when Danny entered her office. "Adam had checked the phone. The only call made was to you. But get this Stella, not Joe or Derrick had handled the phone. The fingerprints are not theirs."

Stella stood up, already following Danny as they walked to the lab where Adam was processing the phone.

"Any hits in CODIS?"

Danny shook his head. “Nope, no hits.”

They entered the lab, stepping over to the table where the note and phone had been set up. Taking a magnifying glass from a side table, Stella examined the whorls and ridges that were highlighted in front of her. There was a definite pattern to the arch and loop of the smaller and bigger prints.

"You think this guy might be in the building?"

“I don’t know, Stella. But the probability is high. But we have no cause for a warrant and we can’t forcibly fingerprint residents. Although there were scuff marks by the table. Someone scratched the surface recently and we managed to get a few alleles. Not much but enough to know that it’s a male.”

“Okay.” Stella rose, thinking as she looked down at the phone. Closing her eyes, she recalled the phone call. The voice…the timbre…it definitely has some element of a higher pitch than you’d expect. Almost…

She gasped. Opening her eyes and taking up the magnifying glass again, she studied the fingerprints more closely.

Danny knew enough to not interrupt as she angled the glass over the evidence until she straightened.

“I think the owner of this phone is an adolescent male. Probably mid-teens if my guest is correct.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Oh…that makes sense.”

Stella smiled. “Don’t schools have a program to voluntarily fingerprint students in case they get missing.”

Danny grinned. “We can swing it for a warrant. I’ll get it going. You think the kid lives in the building?”

“It makes sense, right? Maybe he walked past when the door was open and saw Mac cuffed against the radiator. The angle is just about right. Mac could’ve given him the number. Look, when he phoned me, he asked about a reward. So – money problems?”

“Yeah…but I think that’s pretty much everyone in that building, Stella. Not a great divider at the moment.”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“Okay, fine. How much did you say?”

Stella gave the number and Danny whistled. “That’s not chump change.”

“No. It’s not.”

“Paying off a bookie? Drugs?”

“Or what about a medical bill? He said it’s not enough.”

“Yeah…okay. That could work. Let’s see if we get a hit off the fingerprints. If not – then we can see if we can get a list of tenants in the building, if possible, from the super and check on them if any family members are hospitalized.”

“Will do.”

Stella watched as Danny disappeared out the door. Her worry for Mac had gone up a notch and she was very much in fear. The fact that they took Mac with them rather than just killing him in the apartment and leaving his body, did give her a little hope that he was still a hostage to Joe. Maybe a bargaining chip until he got away clean.

Until that happened, they had a bit of time to make sure that Joe and Derrick got caught. And she’d take whatever she needed to make sure Mac came home alive.

Even if it means bending the rules just a little so they can get the warrant to do a school and hospital search for the boy.

Flack was juggling too many things and he felt that he was losing the battle against his mind. They had sent out a state-wide APB on Mac and his two abductors. There wasn't much he could do until they had a more solid lead on his friend. Sheldon had come with a request on similar bank heists. He had sent the request to the guys down at data, knowing that they will work their butts off. Because it was Mac. And the respect everyone he had met had for the ex-marine.

And here he was, standing in front of the building with Danny and a few uniforms.

"The building supervisor says there are around 20 families that fit our requirements."

Danny nodded as he divided up the apartment numbers he had been given. They split up, each taking a uniform. Flack started on the floor where they had held Mac. He had seen Danny's face when he had allocated that floor to himself but he had not fought him on it. He was grateful for that at least.

Knocking on the first number, he waited as a familiar wail of a small baby filtered through the door, into loud decibels when a clearly tired looking lady opened the door.

"Yes?"

"Police," and as she started closing the door he interjected his foot into the opening. She sighed, wiping at her face. "What ya want?"

"You have a husband?"

"No, does it look like I have a husband?" She gave him a warning look and he moved his foot out of the way just in time as she slammed the door shut this time. He gave his uniform a knowing look as he moved onto the next door.

It took 3 tries and he was onto the last number on his list when the door was opened by a boy. He looked to be around 14 years, dressed in oversized jeans and a basketball jumper.

"Your dad home?"

Flack tried to keep his voice casual, glancing into the apartment.

"No."

"He at work?"

The boy nodded, eyes suspiciously on him. "You alone?"

"He'll be home soon," the boy said defensively. "What you want?"

Brown eyes stared back. Flack had been in the game long enough to know fear when he saw it. The boy was trying his best to hide it. Also, the apartment from what he could see also looked neat. Too neat. The detective had the sneaky suspicion that the family was about to move somewhere else.

"You wanna talk about the cop that was held against his will two doors down?"

The boy stood like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Raw fear filtered straight through and a moment later it was broken when the kid slammed the door shut. Even though Flack had anticipated the move, the door still rebounded off his body to slam back against the wall. The boy was already at the open window, lithely sailing through it and Flack heard his footsteps echo back at him from the fire escape. The uniform was already pounding back down the hallway as Flack sailed through the window after the kid. Using his height, he jumped stairs, rebounding off the railing of the fire escape. And still the boy was two floors down, already on his way to the ground. He wasn't about to let the boy get away. Ignoring the little voice in his head on the sensibility of what he was about to do, he climbed the railing. Dropping his body so he hung by his hand, he dropped the last few feet to the ground to land just in front of the boy. He felt his ankle wobble but he had enough sense to grab the kid's jacket and as he stumbled to the ground, to bring him down with him into a heap.

"Now that was not smart," he said as he pressed onto the boy's back. The kid kept wiggling, a whine deep in his throat as he begged Flack to let him go.

“Just stop, dammit. I’m not going to hurt you, okay.” As he said it, the uniform that had been with him, joined him in the alley. Working together, they managed to get the boy cuffed and searched before Flack pulled him to his feet. Holding on to his arm, he marched down the alleyway until they reached one of the cars they had come in with. Pushing the boy into the back seat, he made sure he had locked the doors before he radioed Danny.

“Hey, I’ve got one that ran. Think you can come down to fingerprint him to see if it’s the missing kid.”

Danny acknowledged him and Flack leaned back against the car. Lifting the hem of his pants, he eyed his ankle that looked to be swelling. He grimaced as he put his leg back down, testing his foot. It didn’t feel more than a minor sprain, so he’d probably get away with some ice later.

“Hey, he in there?” Danny asked. He was a little out of breath as he walked rapidly up to the car.

“Yeah, man. He’s a bit squirrely. I might have to hold him down for you.”

“Yeah okay.” Danny wiped at his eyebrow with his thumb before he placed his bag on the trunk of the car.  Opening, he took out a card and some ink. Flack opened the back door.

“Hey kid. Look, we’re taking your fingerprints okay. Don’t do anything dumb.”

He grimaced at the words the kid threw his way. Looking back out the door at Danny, he sighed. In the end, it took him and the uniform to hold the kid, so that Danny could get the fingerprints printed.

It was disappointing later, when Danny compared them to the printout of the fingerprint on the phone. It wasn’t even a close match. But Danny was more interested in the kids’ fingernails.

“Hey, hey…how did you get your nails snagged like this?” Danny asked the boy.

“I’m not gay.” The boy glared back.

“I didn’t say that.” Danny was now seated in the back seat with the boy, whose hands were now cuffed in front. “Look, a friend of mine is missing. We found evidence upstairs that he was there. There was also a phone left and what looked like a fight. Your hands tell me a story…yeah.”

The boy shrugged his shoulders but there was something there. Flack could see it. He’s had enough experience dealing with suspects to know when they concealed something. This boy knew something.

“What’s your name?” Danny asked.

“What’s it to you?”

At least it wasn’t silence anymore. Danny scrummaged in his jacket and then looked over at Flack. He sighed but took out his wallet, passing a twenty to Danny, who then held up the nearly forty dollars for the kid to see.

“Name.”

“JJ.”

“Okay, JJ. All this is yours if you tell me about the man in the apartment.”

“Look, it wasn’t me that phoned, okay. I told him not to. Having cops here is bad.”

“Who phoned?”

JJ seemed to consider his options. His eyes kept straying back to the money, a moth to a flame. He took a deep breath and then looked away.

“I’m no snitch.”

Danny nodded. “Fair enough. But we’re going to find him today, JJ. You see, I’ve got a fingerprint that tells me so. And we’ve guessed that he needs money for the hospital…” JJ took a deeper breath at that revelation. “…so, you’ll do us both a favour by making everything go a bit faster, yeah? He’s not in trouble and neither are you. We just want to find our friend.”

“Peter.”

“What’s that?”

“Look, uncuff me, man. I’ll take you to his apartment but he’s not there.”

At a nod from Danny, Flack leaned in and uncuffed the boy. JJ took the opportunity to snatch the money out of Danny’s hand and it disappeared into his jacket.

“Where’s Peter, JJ.” Danny asked patiently. Flack had to give it to the other man. He would’ve lost it a while ago with this kid.

“Don’t know. He went looking for the dude that was cuffed. Said something about finding him would maybe help his dad. It’s bad, okay. He’s in hospital and they won’t do anything because he’s got no money. They’re just waiting for him to die.”

“His dad is in hospital?”

“You deaf or som’ting. That’s what I said.”

“Yeah, okay kid. Do you know where he went looking?”

JJ was silent, seeming to consider his options. “He’s about the only friend I’ve got.” He finally said, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He looked out the car and then took a deep breath.

“Not sure but he needed money so I gave him some of my mom’s stash. Think he’s taking a bus?”

Danny nodded. “Can you take us to his apartment and then you can go.”

They followed the boy up three flights of stairs until they came to a stop in front of a door, furthest from the stairs. Flack watched as the boy left, swaggering his way down the corridor. He hoped the money they'd given the kid wasn’t going straight back into some drug dealer's pocket but the kid had looked clean. Maybe a bit small for his age but otherwise healthy.

It didn’t take long to open the door, once he sent a uni to fetch the key from the super. Inside everything was neat, colourful and lived in. The furniture was well loved and old. The fridge was empty as were the cupboards. They found a family photograph against one wall, next to a flag and what looked like a flower lei.

“Peter Kaa.”

Flack looked away from the flag against the wall. Danny held a book bag in his gloved hand. The words were neatly printed on the inside of a tag.

“Okay, so we got something to go on. But if he went after Mac…” Flack trailed to silence.

“We now know what he looks like. We can have a look through video records. If he brought a ticket at the port authority terminal, we’d be able to find him.” Danny said, as he took the photo of the wall. Flack nodded.

Hope was there. He’d take it.

They’ve found others on less evidence than this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Day 4/5

Peter gingerly let his fingers skim the top of his nose. It was still a bit hard to breathe and even now, the coppery taste lingered as he snorted. It hurt but it cleared his nose somewhat so that he was a bit less nasally. His stomach used the opportunity to growl again. It was a gnawing ache that settled deep in his gut. Even when things had been really tight, his parents had always found some way to put food on the table. Even if the meal consisted of stale bread someone had thrown out and a fruit or two that were bruised. He had never gone more than a day without a meal before.

And now…it’s been two days at least. He wasn’t about to burden his mom with pesky things like that when his dad was literally hanging on by a thread. At least she was getting some food from the nurses. He knew because he had watched as one nurse had brought his mom a sandwich. He had been about to enter the room but had stood hidden in the doorway, just happy to see that she was eating. That for a moment her sadness had lifted at the generosity of another human being. When she had asked him, he had told her that he’d had eaten. He had felt bad about lying but the responsibility of the house now lay on his shoulders now that his dad was sick. That meant manning up and going hungry for a day or two, he’d do it to spare her the heartache.

He knew they had done it before. Had provided and made sure he ate while they went to bed without food. He wiped his eyes that suddenly burned as he thought again about his dad.

He wanted to make him proud. Make sure that he did the right thing, even if it is going to cost him. He couldn’t forget the face of the man in the apartment. He looked scared too. Peter remembered the smell of vomit where the man had lain. Remembered the bruises he had seen. He lifted his own shirt. His stomach had now turned a shade of blue-black. It hurt but he’d seen worse on JJ, so he knew enough to know that it would pass. He pulled the blanket tighter around his body as he shivered.

After getting the money from JJ, and making a promise that he’d pay him back, he had brought a bus ticket to the Palisades Interstate Park. He had no idea where to start looking and even though he lived in New York, he had never visited the park before. It wasn’t at all what he had imagined it to be. It was a lot greener, with shrubs and trees and pathways that went off in different directions. As he stood in front of the Fort Lee Visitor Centre, he felt completely overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do this. Even where to start his search.

When he had heard Joe talk about the Palisades, he had Central Park in mind. He thought he’d be able to easily search for Mac Taylor. Maybe find him and then the city would be so grateful that they would pay for his dad’s treatment. But now…now it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

He had spent an hour at the visitor centre and had finally fished out a park map that someone had dropped in one of the bins when he was sure no one was looking. His finger had traced over the lines of the different tracks. It was daunting. His toes still hurt and he was limping slightly by the time he had walked to the Ross Dock Picnic area. He had sat down on one of the benches and had looked out over the Hudson. The high-rises fill the sky across the river. It was beautiful in a sense, with the bridge over the water giving a sense that his home wasn’t too far away. He wondered if one of those buildings that he was seeing was the hospital where his dad was at. He unconsciously gave a half wave, as if his parents would be able to see him before he realised what he was doing.

He waited as things quieted down and people left. He found a half-eaten hamburger in one of the bins at the back of the restrooms. He grimaced but closed his eyes and ate it as quickly as possible. It wasn’t too bad considering where he got it from but it wasn’t even close to enough for his starving body. Instead, he tried to fill his stomach with water. He hid away as the sun went down and crept back to the playground when everything was dark.

The residual light of the city filled the sky with an orange glow, the lights reflecting off the Hudson in a kaleidoscope of colours that turned the dark brown waters into a mirror of the rooms that towered over it. It was pretty as Peter settled underneath one of the playground towers. He pulled the blanket tight around him as he pulled his backpack closer. Inside had been the blanket that was now around his shoulders, a water bottle that he had filled up in the restroom, a flashlight and a small first aid kit he had taken from the bathroom cupboard. It was one that he had gotten at school when someone had come to teach them basic first aid. There wasn’t much in it. A few plasters, one bandage roll, small scissors and an absorption pad. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do with it but it might help to be prepared.

His mom always told him that common sense can get one out of a whole heap of hurt. It had come to him in good stead over the last few years, especially as he’d gotten taller and bigger than his peers as adolescence had started. He knew he was big for his age. It had the football coach drooling and his dad wanted him to play rugby.

But he wasn’t interested. That wasn’t what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to help others. Not pummel them into the ground. Maybe that is why he was decent with JJ. He knew the other boy struggled. Stole when he needed to in order to eat when his mom was strung out on her bed and there was no money. He had shared food with the boy. Just like the nurse did with his mom. Maybe that was why JJ had loaned him the money to buy a bus ticket. Kindness can go a long way. And that is why, he decided, he is doing this as a river boat clanged, the sound echoing across the river to his hidey hole. Peter shivered, his teeth clacking.

He hadn’t expected it to be this cold but he couldn’t move from his spot. He was afraid he’d be found if he did by park rangers. And if that happened, he wouldn’t be able to help Mac. Sleep was hard, but he did slip fitfully into one sometime during that long night. He woke early in the morning as the sun was rising, colouring the sky into pink and light blue. He was stiff and the gnawing ache in his stomach had now deepened. He ignored it as best as he could while he folded the blanket and returned it to his pack. He was a bit stiff but he walked it off as he made his way back to the restrooms. They were still locked but he found an open window at the back of the building and slipped through. It was a tight fit but he managed in the end without scraping too much skin from his one hip when he got stuck. He cleaned up as best he could, using the water basin as he quickly undressed so that he was left standing only in his underwear.

His mom called it top n tail. He used the soap dispenser and some of the paper towels to dry himself off before he got dressed. He was more careful when he exited the building, again via the window. He felt a bit more human as he set off again, following the path marked with aqua paint against trees. It took half the morning but he made it all the way to the Englewood Picnic area. He filled up his empty water bottle as he sat down on the grass and watched the river. He felt a bit dizzy as he sat there. He had taken his jumper off during the walk and had stuck it into his backpack. He felt tired, sweaty and dirty but most of all, he felt hungry. Tears were close and he swallowed them with difficulty.

Men didn’t cry. And he was a man now.

Still…he felt overwhelmed, sad and angry all at the same time. But he had a purpose. He had studied the map before he had left. Had prayed as his fingers had gone over the different tracks and he tried his best to remember if the man had said anything else about where he was taking Mac. The Greenbrook sanctuary looked more than likely than any place along the map. It was kinda out of the way and there were lots of spaces that had now obvious tracks on the map.

“Hey kid.”

He looked up. A man was standing off to the side. He was a tall man, clad in hiking clothes and boots with a beard that was black against his brown skin. Brown eyes crinkled as he studied Peter, hands on his hips.

“I don’t know you.” Peter said politely as he slowly stood up.

“You have a parent with you?” The man asked instead.

Peter didn’t trust the other man. He looked around the park, noticing that it was still fairly empty of people. He took a step back as he swung his backpack onto his back. The man held up his hands.

“Hey, it’s all good, man. Look, I’ve got some food left over and wondered if you’d like the rest.”

Peter stared at the man suspiciously. He wasn’t an idiot but this man also didn’t look like a pervert either. He’d seen enough of those around where he lives to smell them out. He and JJ made sure to steer clear of those men, who promised money and clothes for some personal attention. The man walked away to one of the picnic tables and then came back with a bag. He put it down on the grass.

“If you’re in trouble…uh, I mean like running away or something…there is a place I know where you can go. Get some food. A place to sleep. It’s a charity okay.”

The man took out what looked like a flyer and stuck it in the bag. “Here, in case you’re interested. They’re good people, okay. Just think about it okay.”

He stayed where he was and watched as the other man walked away before he stepped closer to the bag. Inside was an unopened bottle of orange juice, a sealed breakfast burrito and a packet of Lays Chips. He glanced up but he was once again alone.

He put the chips in his backpack as he opened the orange juice and took a sip. It was sweet and tangy and oh, so good. He drank half the bottle before he started on the burrito. He was licking his fingers, suddenly grateful for the kindness of strangers. He felt energised as he started on the Long Trail afterwards.

It took him the rest of the morning and a bit into the afternoon before he finally reached Greenbrook turn off. It didn’t look that busy but the pathway also had signs on that talked about it being a member’s area. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He drank the rest of his orange juice and opened the packet of lays as he sat down at the crossroads as it were, deciding how he was going to tackle the next little bit.

It didn’t take him long to finish the chips. He crumbled the packet and stuck it into his backpack before he slipped into the woods. The map had a little section that said that it was a 165-acre woodland forest, mainly consisting of oak trees. Peter wasn’t sure what oak trees looked like but what he saw was pretty tall. He circumvented the main area and joined up with a smaller track. After about thirty minutes, he stopped and sat down, taking out the map. He traced the path he was on, guessing where he was approximately on the map. Not far away was the Greenbrook pond and on the side between the pond and the Hudson there was an area that looked a bit more remote. If he was the bad guy, he guessed that could be where he would take someone.

The unlikelihood of finding one hurt man never came up in Peter’s mind. Nor the fact that he was mostly guessing and going off a map that he found in a bin. All Peter was thinking at this point was that if he found Mac Taylor, it would make the feeling of guilt go away and just maybe, make his dad better because he did a good thing. That God will see him and what he is doing and a miracle will happen.

So, he set off resolutely, orientating himself when he found the pond to the area where he wanted to go. He stepped behind a tree a short time later to water the garden as he dad sometimes would say, when he heard a familiar voice. It was gravelly and angry and clearly thought he was alone.

“I told you. He’s dead…”

Peter shifted softly, crouching down and leaning around the tree, peering through a bush as one of the men that had been in the apartment walked past him. It was the man that had spoken about knowing a place in the palisades.

“…No…”

He stalked down the path, looking around until he came to what looked like a small cross carved into a tree. Even from where Peter was hiding, he could see the two slashes in the trunk. It was old and gnarly, dark with age but still discernible against the bark of the tree.

“Look, are you sure you don’t see the key in the car?” The man half turned, so he stood sideways to Peter, eyeing the woods before him. “Only, it’s a bit of a walk.”

“Right…”

He wiped a hand across his head and then dropping his hand to his trousers, he tapped his fingers rapidly against his leg. Peter was silent as he watched.

“What?”

The man took a deep breath. “You sure?”

Whatever the other man said, must’ve been what the man wanted to hear. “Great. I walked out here for nothing…”

“Fine. It’ll take me an hour. I’ll see you at the station.”

Peter watched as the man walked past him, back along the trail. He waited until the man disappeared around the bend before he furtively walked to the tree with the marker. He looked upwards and then closing his eyes briefly, he thanked God. He also prayed that his dad would be okay and silently apologised to his mom that he wasn’t there at the hospital like he promised before he stepped into the forest.

“Anything?”

Stella looked up as Danny stepped into the lab. She patted Adam on his shoulder and rose to meet the other man. It had taken the better part of yesterday afternoon to get the warrant, so that they could get the video footage from the Port Authority. It had taken time and she had chafed at the bureaucracy of it all. It hadn’t helped that her frustration had boiled over, alienating a judge to her cause. Mac was so much better at managing this than she was. She knew her Italian roots sometimes led to passion that didn’t always sit well with the dourer crowds. Over the years, it had ended with more than one failed relationship or upset work colleagues that took offence. She couldn’t be responsible anymore for hurt feelings.

She needed to find Mac. It burned in her.

“The video isn’t that great to run facial rec but Adam is cleaning it up. We’re eyeballing it at the moment.”

“What can I do to help?” Danny asked as he stepped closer.

“Uh…you finished processing the apartment where Mac was kept?”

“Yeah, Lindsey is closing up the last bits and signing them into the logs. We also went over the bank evidence again. Dotted our I’s and t’s.” Danny said, blue eyes meeting Stella’s with confidence in the knowledge of a job well done.

“Okay.” Stella pulled a chair closer to one of the monitors that stood on the table where Adam was busy. Switching it on, she indicated to Danny to take a seat.

“There’s three cameras that cover the general area in front of the ticket offices. If we each take one, it’ll go faster.”

She watched as Danny sat down with a nod. She sat down between Adam and Danny and focused on her own screen. Stopping and starting the video that had been setup for her by Adam, she played through the footage.

It took them an hour before Danny gave a small shout. “Hey, I think I’ve got him.”

Both she and Adam looked up from their screens and then crowded around Danny. Stella squinted. The video was grainy but it definitely looks like the boy. And the time was about right, in the zone they had estimated from what JJ had told Flack, when Peter would’ve bought a ticket. Stella was on the phone with the Port Authority shortly after, giving them the time and the ticket booth.

It wasn’t long before they came back with the result.

Peter had brought a ticket to the Palisades Interstate Park. The bus stopped at Bridge Plaza, not too far from the Fort Lee Historic Park. Armed with that knowledge, she sent Danny with Flack and a unit to go check it out while she tried to get hold of the Park Commission.

“Uh, I didn’t think anyone was going to come out here. It’s not like they stole anything.”

Danny blinked behind his glasses as he eyed the nervous looking man in front of him. Dave Mitchell wasn’t the most confident of men out there, and that was being kind. But he clearly knew the park and its history. When he and Flack and the unis had arrived at the visitor centre at Fort Lee, Dave had been surprised and then had asked them if they were here about the break in.

Danny wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, per say. It might be related to Peter and Mac and he wasn’t about to discount anything at this point, even though Flack had rolled his eyes and had told Danny in private that it was a fool’s quest. But Danny felt it in his gut that this was something to do with Peter, so he had played along and had asked Dave where the break-in had happened.

Dave had directed them and they had driven to the Ross Dock Picnic area. Danny had taken his bag and it hadn’t taken him long to take a sample of the blood and fingerprint the window. Eyeballing the prints with what he had of Peter, he could see that it was a match. At least the boy had been here this morning, which was a good thing. It gave them a bit of a timeline.

He had asked Dave where a good place would be to stash a body. Dave had gone white, sputtering his way to silence as Flack stared at him, like he’d gone insane. Danny packed up his tools, letting Flack deal with Dave, who seemed to hyperventilate his way towards an answer, his hands making nervous little gestures as he indicated points on the map that were out of the way.

Looking at the map, Danny knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

With Mac, he decided – when is it ever?

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Day 5

It was convenient. And it helped because Peter was convinced that without those little markings on the bark, he would’ve gotten lost completely. As it was, the trek wasn’t easy. The undergrowth was a tangled mess of bush and mud and stones that jutted out. He had to be careful. He couldn’t afford to slip and bash his ankle. As it was, his toes were cramping and he was limping badly by the time he got to a clearing. He sat down and took off his shoe. His sock was damp and when he took it off, he noticed the dark red stain that covered the front part of his sock.

He grimaced. The plasters he had put on his toe had somehow come undone. The skin of his foot was wrinkly and he sighed. He did his best, getting the first aid kit out of his bag. He wiped his foot with a corner of the blanket and then replastered the cuts. Lying back, his head pillowed on his backpack, he watched the dance of light between the leaves that sat above him. He wondered what his mom was doing. How his dad was and where JJ was. His friend drifted. He didn’t always go to school either and Peter knew that the times when he wasn’t there, was when JJ’s mom hadn’t returned home.

He wondered what else he could do to help but his own life was out of control at the moment. And here he was, looking for a man he didn’t know except for one very brief conversation in a crummy apartment. But he remembered the woman’s voice on the phone. She had sounded relieved. Hopeful. And he had hung up because they didn’t offer enough money.

In truth, he felt ashamed for what he’d done. His dad would definitely not be happy with him because of what he’d done.

Putting his sock back on, he got back up with a soft groan. Walking was still a bit uncomfortable but he could do this. Was determined to make up for his mistake.

It took him about another forty minutes or so before he came to a ravine. The ground dropped away before him, boulders creating hazardous stepping stones down to a small bubbling brook. Here and there, the ground sloped around the boulders. A promised pathway that was deceptive in its angle and incline.

Peter kneeled and carefully leaned over. His eyes searched and he was just about to lean back, the disappointment a hollow feeling in his stomach when he caught out of the corner of his eye the flash of white against the swatches of dark loam and grey granite speckled with dark spots.

He had to change the angle he was looking at, swivelling on his knees around an outcrop.

The dark head of hair was familiar. As was the bruised face, bleached white against the backdrop of the bustling brook and grass. On his back there was a dark, red ink stain that had spread over half the material. His eyes were closed, his hands clutched limply into the soil beneath him.

Peter carefully slid down, holding onto the boulders for anchorage as he made his way over to where Mac lay. He was out of breath when he finally knelt down next to the other man.

He looked dead.

There was no other way to describe it. A bit like his dad had looked right after his heart attack. Peter wiped at his eyes, telling himself that it might not be so. He tried to remember what the teacher had said. Something about checking breathing. Checking …consciousness?

Asking someone to phone 911?

Well, that’s not going to happen anytime soon. He didn’t have a phone either. He reluctantly reached out, afraid to touch. Afraid that he was too late.

The soil stirred.

He squinted. Looked again, his hand frozen just above Mac’s shoulder. Not touching yet.

And he saw the small stirring of air just below Mac’s nose, brushing against a leaf that fluttered ever so slightly. Life was there and he let out a huge breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. He allowed his hand to finish its journey, touching Mac’s shoulder.

Even through the shirt, he could feel how cold the man was. His body didn’t stir and Peter worried his lip as he tried to think of the next logical steps.

Common sense.

His mom’s words, vibrating around his skull as he looked at the brook, the rock-strewn incline above them and the glimpses of sun, throwing dappled shadows around them. Determined, he opened his bag, getting the first aid kit out and the blanket. Wrapping the blanket as best he could around Mac from his feet, up to just under his armpits, he rolled the man into the blanket. Mac didn’t stir, didn’t indicate that he was even aware that he was alone anymore as Peter worked on him.

When he was done with the blanket, he swallowed down his nausea as he slowly peeled away as best he could the bloody shirt from Mac’s shoulder. There was a small hole in Mac’s chest that still wept slightly but otherwise didn’t look too bad. But on the back, just underneath Mac’s shoulder blade, there was a mass of torn skin, gaping outwards.

Peter couldn’t help it. He stumbled away and then he brought up the chips he’d eaten not so long ago. He retched, closing his eyes against the vividness of the wound. He had to psych himself up to go back and look at the wound again.

Mac was still alive. Still breathing.

Mac needed him.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the pad, he pushed it against the wound. It soaked through immediately, the blood squishing through it to flow sluggishly between his fingers. He swallowed against the bile and then focusing, he took off his top and then removing his t-shirt, he pushed that too against the wound. It soaked up more of the blood and seemed to be doing the job. Onehanded, he grabbed the bandage and with grunts, started to unravel it around Mac’s shoulder and his chest.

It didn’t look like what he’d seen on TV. It was messy and yuck, his blue t-shirt contrasting against Mac’s white skin and the dirty blond of the bandage. Pulling his top back over his head, Peter washed the blood as well as he could from the stream.

“Mac?”

The name rolled off his tongue, an uncertainty as he patted the man’s cheek. He felt silly. Maybe this is something he should’ve started with but at that point he had just wanted to get the man warm.

“Hey…”

Mac stuttered in his breathing. Peter held his own breath, his heart thudding in his own chest. Something was definitely not right. And he didn’t know how to fix this. How to get Mac up the wall of granite before him, back to the pathway. Back to where there were adults with medical degrees that could help.

A tear escaped before he could stop it.

Another stuttering breath.

“Don’t die.” He whispered. His fingers brushed through Mac’s hair. Willing the man before him to not give up. To keep fighting. In the end Peter didn’t know if his entreaty was for the man before him or for his dad that was lying so very still, in a hospital bed.

His hand completed its journey through Mac’s hair, to finally rest on the man’s shoulder. Mac’s chest expanded underneath his fingers.

“My dad…” He swallowed his tears, as he shifted next to Mac. Sat down close to the man’s body as he could, not moving his hand. He irrationally had the feeling that if he broke the contact, that Mac would die. That the only reason he was still alive, still breathing was this tenuous hold that stringed them together.

“My dad works hard, you know. He always talks about the islands. About fishing and coconuts and going out early in the morning before the sun rose too high. Before the fish moved to the deeper parts to get away from the heat. About how he met my mom.”

Peter quieted. Sniffing against the knot that threatened to unravel from his throat. It was a pressure that he struggled to contain. Struggled to keep inside him.

“N…New York wasn’t planned. His cousin – my uncle – h…he came here. Wanted to start up his own business. He convinced my dad to come. To help him out.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders. Beneath his fingers, Mac’s chest expanded again.

“I guess it kinda worked out. My dad misses his home. But he says that home is where your family is at, so as long as we’re with him, his home, you know.” He went quiet for a little while. Watching Mac stutter through more breaths. Thought about JJ. And school and his mom.

About what it means to be a man.

“JJ doesn’t have anyone.” He finally said softly, dropping his head down his chest. Shuffling his feet a little as he watched bubbles expand over rocks, gravity forcing the water downwards towards the Hudson . “Uh…JJ is my friend. He helped me, you know. Gave me money so I can buy a bus ticket. I’ll have to pay him back before his mom finds out. She wouldn't be happy if she knew that he’d taken her money. She’s uhm..” He closed his eyes, wondering how he was going to address the addiction that his friend’s mom struggled with.

The hungry need that had her ignore her own flesh and blood and his needs for her own.

He sighed.

“Maybe I can get a job to pay him back. I’ll have to work after school. Schools important. My mom says education will get you far. Just like common sense.”

Beneath his fingers, Mac twitched. It drew his attention, as he focused on the man’s face. There was something there. A tightening of skin around Mac’s eyes. A deeper intake of breath, that was less of a stutter. Peter leaned closer, studying the man’s face but there was nothing more.

Peter looked around again, at the brook that flowed just below Mac’s feet. At the incline that towered above them and looked impossibly high.

His whole focus had been on finding Mac. In his mind everything would work out once he’d done that.

What he hadn’t considered what he was going to do once he’d actually found the man.  An unconscious and unresponsive Mac hadn’t figured in it at all.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do now.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Day 5

Armed with markers edged out on the map that Flack held, they set out. Danny had phoned Stella and had coordinated with the fiery Italian around possible places where Mac could’ve been stashed. In the back of his head, he also knew that Peter was somewhere in the mix. Possibly pointing to where Mac was but the boy was a hidden element that had his stomach clench tight in worry.

Dave had made a few phone calls and they were now surrounded by a dozen park personnel, all of them coming across as competent. Flack had called in more units to help with the search, assigning two men per guide as they divvied up positions.

Danny made sure his radio was on the right frequency as he strapped on his backpack. Inside was packed a hastily put together medical survival kit. He knew enough, having learned a few things from Sheldon, that he felt comfortable that he’d be able to at least do something when they found Mac. He set off with the group, splitting up from Flack as he went down the path marked to Greenbrook Pond.

They passed by the marker that led to the Women's Federation Memorial, keeping to the track. It took them around thirty minutes to reach the point where some of the rangers had indicated would be a good place to start looking.

The two men who were assigned to him, were both in their early forties. Mike, a swarthy man with a darker complexion and Steve, a bit younger but still older than Danny, his blond hair in contrast to Mike. Both of them had been working at the park for the last five years and knew it very well.

They went off the pathway, into the bush. Danny was careful where he put his hands, watchful for poison ivy’s distinctive three leaf pattern. Their breaths were harsh in the quiet, mingling with birdsong and the rustle of leaves as a small breeze shifted between the trees. Danny imagined he could see hints of the Hudson but the chances were that he was imagining the river. Yet he followed the experienced guides as they stopped often to check the route they were taking against the map, angling their bodies to a GPS held against the paper. Mike also had a compass in hand and he explained to Danny that using the very decidedly low tech item would seem ridiculous next to the GPS but it was helpful if batteries died or for some reason the instrument wasn’t working. There were one or two dead spaces in the woods and it wasn’t that uncommon to revert back to handheld devices like a map and a compass when they went off track.

Everything kinda looked the same to his own inexperienced eyes. Give him the city anytime. He’ll probably be able to make his way between alleyways blinded – just be the smell alone. Queens smelled different to the Bronx. Smelled different to the Upper East Side. Your nose could guide you around the city if you knew about it.

“Danny?”

He looked up. The two men were standing in front of him, pointing to something on the ground. Danny’s sharp eyes noticed for the first time an indent; a sharper outline of a half circle edged into the soil. He stepped closer, crouching down as he ghosted his fingers along the outline.

“It’s a smaller shoe?” He asked as he took out a ruler from his bag and placed it on the ground, he took three photos at different angles. It might be nothing but it didn’t seem likely, looking at the two guides. They seemed somewhat excited.

He pulled the radio from his belt after he put away the ruler and camera.

“Hey Flack.”

“Yeah.”

“Might have something. We’re going to take a look. Check-in in five minutes. We’re currently at …”

He looked at Steve, who gave him coordinates. He read it off the GPS the man held in his hand, making sure Flack repeated it back to him. Giving a small nod, he followed the two other men, who carefully stepped over the spoor.

It was slow going. They lost the trail ten minutes in, and Danny used the opportunity to check in with Flack again. He was just returning the radio to his belt when Mike motioned him over to where they were standing about fifteen feet away. He had his map open and indicated an area on the map.

“There’s a small ravine just here. It’s out of the way for most of it, the runoff from a stream joins this one here…” he said, pointing, “…that leads to a bigger one that goes over a small waterfall. Mostly a step waterfall, but pretty.”

“You think he dumped Mac there?”

“Maybe…” The man stared down at the trail and then wiped the back of his neck. “The trail is definitely going that way. I don’t see any indication that whoever had made these,” he swung his arm wide, to indicate the trail, “…came back this way. Look, it might be the kid you’re looking for, right. The shoe size is small enough. It definitely isn’t an adult.” He grimaced. “Sorry.”

“Okay…” Danny took a deeper breath as he weighed up his options. Even if this wasn’t Mac, it still might lead to Peter. And finding the boy is just as important as finding his boss.

“Let’s see where this goes.” He said in the end. The man nodded and turned, going deeper into the woods.

It took two more check-ins with Flack before they found the clearing. One of the rangers found the plasters and a good indication that the person they’d been following had lain there. Danny took photos and bagged the plasters before they set off again. He let Flack know who was coordinating with Stella in getting an EMS unit on standby, while he made his way back from where they had been searching to Danny’s position. Things were definitely starting to look a little more positive and Danny hoped that finding the boy would mean finding Mac.

Danny wanted the rangers to speed up. Wanted to get to the ravine as fast as possible. His gut told him that it was there that they were going to find the pair. He couldn’t quantify the feeling. Couldn’t put his finger on the pulse of it except for the churning feeling that increased his heart rate and felt like the buildup of pressure that needed a release.

But evidence was important. Evidence is his job and that you could never rush.

So, they took as long as they needed to make sure there was no more dropped rubbish or scuffed shoe imprints and as horrible it was to even contemplate, making sure there were no hidden bodies in the undergrowth as they moved closer to their end goal.

It took them a slow fifty minutes before they stood on the edge of the ravine.

Flack was fifteen minutes behind him by that time, his own guides leading the way as they followed in Danny and his team’s footsteps as it were.

“Over here!”

Danny followed the man, who was carefully leaning over the edge. He blinked as he looked down.

Looking up at him, blinking in the afternoon light was Peter – who was sitting next to a body that looked barely alive from this distance.

He felt his throat tighten, his heart echoing back at him at a rapid speed as he desperately tried to see if Mac was breathing. The boy had his hand on Mac’s shoulder, and it looked like he was rolled into a blanket and the bright blue of what looked like a bundled-up t-shirt mashed against Mac’s back with…

Is that a bandage?

Without thinking about it, his hand curled around the radio. He flicked the button, his voice breathy as he looked for a way down while at the same time calling Flack.

“We need EMS at our position.”

“Okay, I have two guys with me.”

Danny closed his eyes briefly as thankfulness for Flack’s anticipation ran through his body in a release that tightened his throat. He was gruff as he acknowledged it and nothing more needed to be said but the overwhelming urge to get down there was burning its way through him.

“This way…”

He stepped towards where one of the guides was indicating, already leading the way down. Danny followed, slithering his way down part of the way on his backside. He had no idea how the boy had made it down and he looked with new respect at Peter when he finally reached the bottom.

Closer to the boy, he could see the lines of fatigue on his face. Dark circles underline his eyes that stared back at Danny with sadness and also a determination that he didn’t miss.

“You okay, kid?” He asked as he knelt by Mac and slid his bag off his shoulders and settled it next to him.

“Uh…yeah.”

The voice wasn’t what he expected out of a boy his size. It was soft, the tone just a little off. He had to do a retake and remind himself that Peter wasn’t much older than thirteen. That what this boy had done was nothing short of a miracle.

The boy wiped a hand through his hair. A nervous gesture as he shifted and then grimaced when he put his foot down on the ground.

“You injured?” Danny asked as he checked Mac’s breathing. He wasn’t an expert but even he knew that Mac’s stuttering breath wasn’t normal.

“I’m okay.”

Danny looked up. Met the brown eyes with a frown.

“I saw plasters back up there in a small clearing.” He said, indicating with his head up the ravine. “Those weren’t yours?”

The boy looked away, his hand shifting into the ground next to him, playing with a tuft of grass.

“Hey kid.” Danny waited until the kid looked at him. “You did good okay. Now let us take care of things for a bit.” Waiting for a heartbeat to make sure that Peter heard him, letting his words sink in before he asked. “Peter…are you hurt anywhere?”

“I cut my foot…uh, yesterday or uhm…two days ago?”

“Okay. Will you let Steve over there look at it while I take a look at Mac?”

The boy nodded and Danny let out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding, as he turned his full attention to Mac. He used scissors in his pack to cut through the bandage and carefully peeled the t-shirt away. There was a pad stuck to the shirt, and it came away with the material. Danny saw all the evidence of a gunshot wound, the exit wound was heated and angry. He got a whiff of something, wrinkling his nose at it. He very carefully put the shirt back. He knew if he turned Mac, he’d find the entry wound.

From the damage, he was certain that it was a pistol. Not a big calibre either, probably the reason why Mac was still alive. Danny didn’t want to move Mac too much. Didn’t want to unravel the blanket. He was concerned about any more injuries he couldn’t see. There was nothing more to do until the EMS guys came here.

He looked at his watch, while Steve looked at the cut underneath Peter’s toes. It was impressive, the fact that the boy had trekked here on that foot. A slow grumble suddenly filled the air and the boy blushed. Danny and Steve’s eyes met as they realised both at the same time that Peter probably hadn’t eaten anything in a while. Danny rummaged in his bag and got out a nut bar, passing it wordlessly over to Steve.

Peter took the bar slowly, looking at Danny and Steve. Finally, it seemed to sink in to the boy that he wasn’t alone anymore. That he was safe.

“I’m s…sorry.” He said, his head drooping. He seemed to fold into himself, his fingers playing with the wrapper of the nutbar.

“Hey…you found Mac. In my eyes, you did good, kid.”

Peter blinked, his face transforming and suddenly Danny saw how young he actually was. Peter opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say, was lost as a shout came from the top of the ravine.

“Oi, how did you get down there!”

He looked up. Flack’s head was just visible against the sky that was now darkening rapidly.

“There’s sort of a pathway to the right of you. Just be careful. It’s pretty gnarly.”

“Yeah yeah. Got ya.”

Danny watched with trepidation as Flack and two guys with heavy packs followed the clearly disturbed path he and the others had made coming down. He moved out of the way as one of the guys knelt down next to Mac.

Flack swore when he saw Mac. Danny understood it clearly. It didn’t look great but at least Mac’s still alive. The EMS guys were efficient. He had to give them that. They talked to each other as they assessed Mac.

It didn’t take them long to get an oxygen mask onto Mac, opening the small portable canister they carried with them fully. Mac’s breath still stuttered into the mask, condensation forming in the cool of evening as the sun went down. Danny held a flashlight as did Flack while the paramedics both now sported head lamps. Peter had an emergency blanket draped over him and he was shivering in the dark, brown eyes glistening from the residual light that wasn’t focused on Mac.

They had unravelled the bandage; the cut pieces littered the ground around Mac as they worked on padding the wounds. The blanket was discarded to the side and Danny made a mental note to bag it as evidence. They had cut off Mac’s shirt, the bloody garment a faded memory against the background of the bubbling brook and shadowed granite. Black and blue was mottled across Mac’s skin. Danny was certain he could see a boot print on his stomach and he winced at the thought of Mac lying cuffed and vulnerable on the apartment floor as he was kicked.

He looked up when a bright spotlight centred on them. The thump thump of a helicopter filled the silence of the hollow they were in. It didn’t feel that long before Mac was strapped in and pulled up into the air.

Throughout it all, Mac had not woken. Not made a sound except for his stuttering breath that showed that he was still alive. Still fighting.

Danny vowed to find the men responsible for this.

He turned, looking at the mess around them of discarded bandages, Mac’s shirt and the blanket. At Peter who was going to be walking out with the rest of them as the lift into the helicopter had been tricky enough as it was with Mac and sheer winds that swirled around them briefly coming down the ravine walls from the helicopter’s backwash.

“What do you want me to do?” Flack asked as Danny still stood, contemplating his options.

There was the jurisdiction nightmare to deal with too. Technically they were in New Jersey. He trusted Stella to sort it out as he got his kit out. He passed a set of gloves to Flack and started taking photos. It wasn’t ideal but he did the best he could with the light available to him.

Afterwards, they bagged and tagged everything, signing and dating everything they picked up. Only when he was done, did he wearily turn to go back up.

Flack wordlessly took one of the bags and slung it onto his back. Peter was waiting up top with one of the EMS guys. He was sipping from a bottle under the direction of the paramedic. His foot had been cleaned and wrapped and he was back in his shoe. But he looked a little better than when they had found him earlier. An impromptu saline drip had helped with dehydration and all that remained of that was a butterfly bandage on the back of his hand.

The trekked back. The woods were dark, shadows playing along the tree trunks where their torches didn’t reach. Danny didn’t remember much of the walk.

All he knew was that he was tired by the time they got back to the main centre. Stella and Lindsy were waiting there, a sort of command centre had been set up. It felt a bit much but Danny didn’t say anything as he handed over the evidence, watching as it was logged and put into evidence boxes.

“Any news?” He asked as he gratefully took the cup of coffee and sandwich that Lindsy gave him.

“He’s being operated on. Nothing more than that. Sheldon is there. He’ll let us know when he’s got news. He bagged the rest of Mac’s clothes.”

“Okay.” Danny sat down, stretching his legs out before him. The chair was hard, a green plastic chair that is common in community rooms around the city. He took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on and he blinked around the spots that appeared in his vision.

“Hey, you okay?”

Lindsy had a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head. He gave her a half smile.

“Just tired. It’s been a few long days.”

“He’s alive, Danny.”

“Yeah…I know.”

She reached down, curled her fingers around his. He watched their hands intertwine, suddenly grateful for what he had in her.

“Okay, we can go. New Jersey has agreed to jurisdiction, allowing us to run the evidence.” Stella said, joining their little group. Flack was off to one side, speaking to one of his men. Danny couldn’t see Peter. Concern flared but Stella seemed to see what he was missing.

“They’ve taken him to Lincoln for assessment. He’s fine, Danny. It’s just precaution. I’ll interview him tomorrow.”

“His parents?”

“His dad had a heart attack. That’s why he asked about money when he phoned. Flack put protection on him in case Joe gets wind of the kid. We’re looking for JJ. He’s not at the apartment.”

“You think they’re in danger?” Danny asked as he sat up. His feet were hurting. He’d done a lot of walking today. Unexpected hikes he hadn’t exactly planned for.

“We’re not sure. Peter is traumatised by what he’d seen. I’m going to have to take it slow.”

“Yeah…that makes sense.” He sighed. Lindsy’s hand gave him a small squeeze, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. Danny looked down at his feet. The floor was tiled. A brown pattern that would be easy to clean from those hiking along the different trails, leaving muddy footprints when they entered the Centre.

“Danny?”

He focused on Stella. A small frown had settled as she studied him. He wiggled his nose, his thumb turning in small circles around Lindsy’s. It was a calming motion and he wasn’t so sure if that action was for Lindsy’s sake or his own.

“Who’s going to take the photos…uhm…of Mac?”

“Sheldon.”

He nodded. Out of all of them, Sheldon was probably the most qualified to make sense of all those bruises. Make sense of what Mac had gone through because Danny didn’t doubt at all that the last five days were written on Mac’s skin.

“Why don’t you and Lindsy go home.” Stella said in the silence. “There’s not much more we can do at the moment. The evidence isn’t going to go away. They’ll be waiting for tomorrow and it will give us all a chance to just decompress. Recover while we can?”

“Maybe…I don’t know.”

Stella sighed, wiping a tired hand through her curls. “Okay, then what is it you wanna do, Danny?”

“There was a boot print on his stomach.”

Stella blinked; her mouth opened as his words registered. Lindsy gave a small gasp, her other hand covering her mouth as her eyes watered.

“The only way he survived is because the pistol that was used was a small calibre. That and Mac’s stubbornness.”

“Hey!”

Flack stood in front of them. Blue eyes met Danny’s. He could read so much in that gaze.

“We’re going to catch these guys and put them away. Ya hear me, Danny. Until then, Mac needs you guys to do what you do best. Look at the evidence so you can tell me and my boys were to go to arrest these bastards.”

Stella nodded, giving Flack a tired smile. She reached out, her hand briefly squeezing the detective’s arm. Danny rose, taking Lindsy with him.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked Lindsy.

“Hospital. Check in on Sheldon. See if there’s any more news. Then the lab.”

Stella crunched her face at those words but Flack nodded. Seemed to agree.

“I’ll make sure they eat something, Stella.” He said as he indicated to Danny and Lindsy to follow him.

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the hospital after I’ve finalised the last few things here with the locals.”

Danny tiredly sank into the backseat, sitting next to Lindsy as Flack drove them back towards New York.

Somewhere, while he was still contemplating Mac and what he’d seen, he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Day 5/6

Sheldon hefted the camera; its weight was uncharacteristically heavy today. He placed the bag that held his equipment on the chair that stood out of the way against the far wall as he contemplated what he was about to do next.

It bothered him that Mac wasn’t conscious to give his consent to what he was about to do now. It wasn’t the first time that he’d photographed a victim in the hospital and Mac certainly wouldn’t be the last. Yet still…

He sighed. Looked at the nurse that stood quietly by the bed. He knew her. She had been trained to work with victims. To get those that were conscious and still very much traumatised, to relax as they took evidence and photographs – which could be invasive all by itself. Dealing with someone unconscious that was still hooked up to medical equipment and leads and IVs took another skill as the limp body was manoeuvred carefully so that the necessary proof could be gathered.

They hadn’t cleaned Mac yet. His hair still held small twigs of his tumble down the ravine and it’s there that Sheldon started as he placed the paper carefully underneath Mac’s head. He is careful of the intubation tube that is connected to the ventilator, helping Mac breathe for now as he starts by brushing Mac’s hair. Soil and debris shifted onto the evidence sheet, colouring the paper with dark brown blots. When he was done, he took up the camera and then took careful photos of Mac’s head at different angles. The bruises were a smorgasbord of blue, yellow and black. His left eye was swollen, almost shut, the swelling distorting his face. Three stitches created a row along his brow, caked with a little dried blood around the edges of the thread.

Finally done, he placed the camera back on the chair as he folded up the sheet carefully while the nurse rearranged Mac’s head on the pillow, ensuring his tube was not tangled anywhere and that his breathing was comfortable.

Mac didn’t have a gown on. The yellow dye of the iodine they had used as they operated on him was still visible, a small stain that trailed around the dressing placed over the now stitched entry wound. It was high on Mac’s left pectoral muscle, almost directly underneath the midline of his clavicle.

Whoever it was that had taken the shot, had been sloppy. The bullet had entered at a slight downward angle, glancing off a rib and had passed through, nicking the lung as it exited at the back just underneath the scapula. The biggest mess had been fixing the torn muscles at the back and stitching Mac back together.

The lung injury, although significant, was manageable and would take time to heal. Until then, Mac would be short of breath and fatigue easily. The danger of pneumonia would be high for the next couple of days as was the chance of sepsis. The wound on his back was already infected by the time they found him.

For now, Mac was on strong antibiotics while they waited for the results to verify if they needed to move off the broad-spectrum antibiotics to a specific variant.

Sheldon took photos of Mac’s torso. He placed a measuring ruler against the boot print on his stomach that was coloured in black. It was at least three days old, judging by the bruise. From there, he moved and made sure to photograph Mac’s wrists, which were still swollen from the restraints that had obviously been too tight. The area was still slightly weepy even though it had been cleaned, his hands resting on thick pads, waiting for him to finish before they’ll bandage them, as the wounds, although looking serious, were actually very minor. The biggest concern was the damage to his hands they won’t see until Mac is awake. Prolonged ligature could lead to nerve damage.

He takes Mac’s hand and turns his wrist, careful as he took two more photos. There were no signs of white or blue on his fingertips and his hand was warm, which was a good thing. Sheldon prayed that all of those were indicative of hands that wouldn’t be crippled by something obnoxious as too tight handcuffs.

Finally, when he was done, they moved the light blanket that was placed over Mac’s hips and legs, unfurling it from his feet so that Mac still retained some privacy. There were a few bruises on Mac’s shins and a partial boot shaped one on his left thigh. It was swollen and looked painful and Sheldon grimaced at the site.

He stepped back as two nurses carefully turned Mac so that he could photograph his back. He did a quick investigation while Mac was rolled over, lifting the blanket briefly and noting the lack of bruises on Mac’s backside.

He was grateful when there was no indication that anything untoward had happened. There had been too many of those he had to deal with in this setting.

Finally done, he nodded at the nurse. They rolled Mac back, rearranging his limbs so that he was comfortable, and then took readings and wrote them down on his chart.

The doctors were cautiously optimistic. He had a fever but it wasn’t uncomfortably high and his sats looked good. He was still sedated as they wanted to keep him comfortable for the next few hours while they waited for the cultures to come back. Hopefully if all goes as planned, Mac would be off the ventilator by the end of the week, allowing his body the much-needed rest to heal while he slept.

He was in the elevator, going down when he tiredly leaned back against the wall.

Mac had clearly done his best but his captors hadn’t been kind either. It wasn’t the worst he’d seen but still…it was harrowing enough because he knew Mac.

When he got back to the lab and logged the evidence in, he found Danny and Lindsay already in the lab.

“Hey, how’s Mac?” Lindsay asked as she noticed him entering.

“They’re cautiously optimistic. They’ll start to wean him off the sedative in a few hours. They’re waiting on the cultures, just to see what they’re dealing with.”

Lindsay nodded. “Okay.”

“Found anything?” He asked as he loaded the photos.

Danny indicated the torn and cut shirt that was laid out on the evidence table along with a bloody blue T-Shirt and blanket covered in twigs, soil and leaves. The rest of Mac’s clothes that were gathered from the hospital still sat in the evidence box off to the side, waiting to be investigated next.

“There’s evidence that he’d been in the apartment on his shirt. Dust particles match up. I also found four hair samples. One looks like cat hair – ginger by the looks of it. Two dark hairs and a lighter one.”

“I don’t remember there being evidence of a cat at the apartment.”

“Nah…there wasn’t any. Lindsay and I processed it. It must’ve come from the car. Of one of the paramedics when they worked on him.”

“Okay. I’ll follow up with them if you want?”

“Uh, yeah sure. Thanks.”

“There’s this as well…” Danny said as he moved away from the microscope he had been sitting in front of. Sheldon moved across, leaning over and adjusting the setting as he peered through the lens.

He frowned. It was definitely fibres of some sort. Brown in colour and it looked artificial.

“Carpet?” He asked as he leaned back.

“No. The weave is to think about that. I checked.”

“Hey…”

“Ok…Lindsay checked.” Danny said sheepishly. Sheldon grinned at the pair.

“Well, good luck.”

He turned back to his own station, sorting the photos and adding notes to some of them. He noted the shoe size and then went into their database they held of soles as he compared the print to different makes.

It took him an hour before he found the make and was relatively certain that he had the right one. He made more notes, adding the information from the database to the photo catalogue. Behind him, Danny and Lindsay continued to sort through Mac’s clothes, careful as they worked through the physical evidence.

They took a break as the sun rose over New York. It wasn’t often that Sheldon had overnighters like this anymore. But for Mac, it hadn’t even been a question. It just was and he tiredly ran a hand through the scruff of his jaw as he turned towards the window, a coffee in hand.

Stella joins him and he is aware of her next to him, a warm presence even as Danny snores on the couch, Lindsay in his arms – fast asleep. They’ve all done well, he thinks. Getting Mac back alive even if Joe and Derrick were still in the wind. He had enough confidence in their abilities to know that they would catch them. That the pair wasn’t going to escape for what they’d done.

“I’ll be going to the hospital around 8 to interview Peter.” Stella says in the silence. He turns to her, noticing the circles under her eyes and the fatigue that was pulling her mouth into a tired smile. Brown eyes met him with a knowing look he understood well. He glances back at where the pair were sleeping, Danny’s arm tightening around Lindsay as he held her in his sleep.

“You want me to come with you?”

“I’m going to take Flack with me. JJ’s still in the wind. His mother returned home early in the morning, strung out and barely making sense. Apparently, she found out about the missing money.”

He raises an eyebrow at that. “Didn’t Danny give JJ some cash?”

Stella shrugs her shoulders and grimaces. “You know how it is. Enough cash like that…”

“Any indication he’s actually packed a bag?” Sheldon asks.

“Maybe…I don’t know.” She sighs, hand rubbing against her brow. A familiar gesture he knew all too well. “Suffice it to say, if he’s on the street…”

“Yeah…” He downs the last dregs of his coffee. The taste was bitter and strong, a surge of caffeine that helped to push the last spurt of fatigue back down. “I can have a look at a few shelters. See if he’s been around?”

Stella takes a minute before she nods in agreement. Sheldon takes her empty cup from her hand and then after a last look at his sleeping colleagues, he makes his way to the kitchen and then downstairs to his locker.

It was time to go find a boy who is lost in more ways than one.

Flack met Stella at the hospital in the front foyer. He must’ve gotten some sleep as he looked refreshed. Better than what Stella felt at the moment, to be honest. She managed to grab a few hours last night after sorting out the logistical nightmare that was New Jersey politics. At least it meant that they could handle the evidence and keep everything in house. At least some logic prevailed when she used all the charm she had on their commissioner, to get him to see the value in their team. She hated that she had to do it this way but for Mac she was willing.

She and Flack take the elevator up to the third floor and then are directed into a small meeting room by one of the nurses. It was clearly used and the nurse apologetically grabbed a few dirty cups that sat on the small conference table. She sat up the camera silently as Flack disappeared and then reappeared with water and glasses.

It was promptly at 8 when a soft knock came on the door. Peter, accompanied by his mother, entered the room shyly. She could see the family resemblance almost immediately. Peter looked better. More aware of his surroundings.

“Hello, I’m Detective Bonasera with the New York Crime lab and this is Detective Flack with the New York Police. Peter, I just want to start by saying that you’re not in trouble. You did very well in finding my friend.”

Peter nods, glancing between them as he shifts in his chair. His mom smiles and Stella can see how proud she is of her boy, even if her face is tired looking and a sadness hangs off her in droves. The dad… right.

“How’s your dad doing?” She asks as she offers water.

“He’s holding on.” It was the mom who answered. Her voice had a lilting quality to it, her accent coming across strong. Stella could see the islands in her words. The early mornings of watching the fishing boats go off. Of families and sun and sea…

She shakes her head, giving Peter’s mom a quick smile.

“I told Peter there’d be a reward for those that found Mac.”

It was a partial truth but Stella was determined to fight for this family. For what Peter had brought back to them with his selfless act.

“It’s not necessary…”

Stella holds up a hand and then on impulse reaches across and grasping her hand, she says, “Please…let us do this. Mac…” She blinks away tears, not afraid to show them now. “He’s important to this city. To a lot of people.”

She nods and Stella lets go, leaning back and glancing at Flack, who is content to let her lead. He gives her a small nod at her unspoken question.

“Is he going to be okay?”

She blinked. And then focus. The voice was still the same as that day he phoned her. But it was soft with an undercurrent of strength that was hard to define. A maturing of his voice from boy to man.

She nods at his question. “He will be. Just like your dad, it’s going to take a bit of time.”

Peter fiddles with his fingers around the glass as his mother pats him on the shoulder. “Ka pai, my boy.” She says with a smile. “You did good.” She pauses, waits but it seems Peter had no more other questions.

“We’re going to be recording this, for court records. You can have a lawyer present if you want but this is an interview to go over what you saw and heard, Peter. Please don’t leave anything out. It might help us catch the men who did this, okay.”

A small nod again. Stella switches on the camera, making sure that it captures the table and everyone before she sits down again. They go over the last five days. About what Peter and JJ saw and when Mac had given him her phone number. She spends time on that part, using her best to try and coax out more detail as the story unfolds.

They had a blurry photo of Joe and the driver’s licence of Derrick, and Peter pointed them both out. Then he pointed to Joe.

“That man…he is the one that took Mac to the forest. I heard him.”

She frowns. “What do you mean, you heard him? Did you see him, Peter?”

“Yeah. He was looking for a key. He was talking to someone else on the phone. He made marks on the trees. I followed them…”

“Did he see you?”

Peter shook his head. “I was hiding. He was meeting the other man at Grand Central.”

Flack got up, his phone in hand. “I’ll call it in.” He said quietly as he left the office, closing the door softly behind him. Something Peter said stuck with her.

“You said you followed the marks?”

Peter nods. “Uh…yeah. Like crosses.”

Stella couldn’t remember Danny having mentioned anything significant like that. If Joe marked spots…what else was out there in the woods. Or here in New York. And why hadn’t he left yet?

She thanked Peter and his mom for their time as they finished up the interview. Peter had drawn the mark for her on a page and she took a photo before sending it off. She weighed her phone and then made a decision.

“Hey, Danny.”

He sounded like he’d just woken up and she could hear the yawn he tried to suppress.

“I send you an image of a mark that Joe had drawn on the trees.”

“What?”

She gives him a minute, waiting patiently. Flack returns, mouths that he’s got units on the way to the station when he sees that she’s on the phone.

“Uh…yeah. Sorry. I didn’t notice this.” Danny finally says. He sounds contrite. Like he’d made a mistake.

“Okay. It was lower down on the trees. Joe used it to find his way to the ravine. Listen, can you coordinate with Dave and get the park services to help you back there. If he used it more than once…who knows. There might be some more evidence there?”

“Okay. What about New Jersey jurisdiction?”

“I’ll sort it out for additional protection. Also, tell Lindsay to have another look at the evidence from the apartment and the bank. Joe was looking for a key. Not sure why yet. He’s still in New York for some reason.”

She hung up and holding up a finger, she dials Adam.

“Hey, do you still have that friend at Grand Central that works in security?”

Adam acknowledges her question, a breathy yes and she can hear the frown in his answer.

“Look, I’ll sort a warrant but I have it on good authority that he’s been there at least in the last day. How long is it going to take you to go through the footage?”

She listens as he guesstimates, aware how insecure Adam is at times. He was brilliant but not always aware just how much.

“Okay, can you get a start. If we can catch the bastards somewhere on the footage, we might get lucky.”

Flack gave her a grim smile of determination. “You need anything else?”

“No. I’ll let Adam phone you, direct you when he finds Joe.” He gives her a small wave and leaves. She’s on her way back to the office, when she charms her way through the New Jersey commissioner and their joint task force on the kidnapping and attempted murder of a New York Crime lab detective. The result is two men that will meet up with Danny at the Palisades, while he and the park staff went back to where they’d found Mac.

Her next phone call was to a judge as she entered the elevator. It didn’t take long and she had the warrant waiting as she stepped onto their floor.

Only when she was sitting down at her desk, her door closed and she’d given the tape off to be digitised, did she phone the hospital to find out how Mac was doing.

Mac’s fever had gone up overnight, which wasn’t unexpected. But he was holding his own and the prognosis stayed optimistic. She felt a release, sinking further into her chair. A tension she hadn’t been aware of, bleeding out of her at the fact that things were moving along.

That Mac would be okay.

That Mac was alive.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Day 6

Danny wasn’t sure how they had missed the little crosses. Now that he was looking for them, they were easy to spot. He had Dave with him, who was surprisingly a good tracker. It again brought up the old adage – never judge a book by its cover. Two New Jersey cops walked behind them, easy going and willing to let him lead as he took his time.

He had taken photos of the markers and then had proceeded to add them to a handheld gps map he held in hand. On the map the path became a clear linear line towards the ravine where they had found Mac. It went through the small clearing where he had found the plasters and evidence that Peter had rested.

What was interesting was the fact that the markers stopped short of the ravine.  Danny couldn’t see the ravine when he marked off the last of the markers. He sends Dave and the two policemen looking as he searches for the next marker.

There weren’t any others. From where he stood, the ravine was about 200 yards to the west of him. It was obvious that Joe and Mac had deviated from the path. He looked at the app and overlaid a layer on top of the one he’d done that indicated the previous pathway he had forged with the two park rangers when they were looking for Mac and Peter.

There were some differences between the path they took originally and the path they took now. Peter’s were close enough to bridge the gap between the two routes and there were enough points that interjected with each other that it as stages looked like a convergence of the two pathways before there was a slight deviancy again.

Joe had deviated from the path hallway past the second last marker and this one, pushing Mac towards the ravine before he shot him.

Which made this last marker a sudden interest as he returned to it after having searched the surrounding trees for any other indications of the trail continuing.

He was careful as he walked around the tree. The ground wasn’t disturbed at all. The ground is compacted with old soil and leaves and small twigs. It smelled mouldy and wet when he crouched down and carefully stirred the soil with gloved hands. A spider scampered away, running over his hand and he hastily shook it off.

“They’re a pest, you know.”

He looked at Dave, who grimaced as he stepped away from a puddle on the ground where there was a slight indentation.

“It’s a spider.”

“Joro spider. From Asia originally. Still a juvenile looking at its size.”

“You mean they get bigger?” Danny asked, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Yeah. They spin their webs between trunks. Not that great in summer when you walk into them.”

“Okay. Think I’ll stay in the city, thank you very much.” He rose to his feet, cracking his back as he looked upwards, into the branches that spread out in concentric circles above him. A soft drizzle had started, and he blinked against the wetness. There was just enough moisture in the air to make things uncomfortable and fog up his glasses to make it hard to see but even then, he didn’t miss the slight discoloration of a black bag against the trunk of the oak.

Adam still felt a bit wonky but in saying that, he did feel slightly better. He had finally been able last night to get at least some sleep in, in his own bed and be woken by his own coffee maker sputtering on at six in the morning.

The shower had been nice and he felt a whole lot more awake when he finally entered his lab early in the morning.

At least it wasn’t 3 am. And then he had gotten the phone call from Stella, asking him about his friend at Grand Central Station. It seems that the men that had taken Mac could have met up there.

It didn’t take him long to get the footage. He still had the blurry photo they had taken of Joe from the bank, and he had used that as a way to find and scrub through the hours of footage. He set off a second algorithm, running Derrick’s facial through a copy of the footage he’d made. After that was done, there wasn’t much for him to do but wait.

He used the time to get a bagel and a coffee in the cafeteria. After that, he entered the lab to see that his programs were still running. Slightly bored, he turned to another station and played around with maps, trying to see if he could find a route Joe possibly could’ve taken between New York and the park. Using Grand Central as a pivot point, he traced routes from there to the park. By the end of thirty minutes, he had an excel grid open with miles and times between the two points and the routes typed out when one of his machines dinged.

Rolling his chair over to the stations, he typed a quick command and then moving the mouse, he opened the list of images. There were four of them that had a high probable match.

It was the third photo that he recognised Joe and Derrick. They were standing, facing each other and having an animated conversation. Joe’s hands were swinging wide and Derrick had a look of frustration.

Whatever it was that was going on, it was very clear that things weren’t going to plan.

Why else would the pair still be in New York?

Adam tapped a pencil against his lips thoughtfully as his eyebrows furrowed. He let the scene play out, watching as Joe turned and walked away, leaving Derrick standing alone in front of the lockers. He tried to follow Joe, but the cameras were static and he lost Joe in the crowds barely ten seconds in. Reversing the footage, he went back to where both men had their argument.

Using software he had installed last night, he zoomed in on the lockers behind the two men and noted down the locker numbers. His fingers dialled a familiar number soon after.

“Hey.” Flack said.

“I found them. They were standing in front of the lockers at the station.”

“Do you have the numbers?”

“Uh…yeah. Hold on…” Adam picked up his list and rattled off the numbers.

“Okay, we’re probably going to need a warrant to search them. I might get away with probable cause but just to be safe, let Stella phone a judge.”

Stella wasn’t in her office when he went looking for her. In the end, he sends an email and a text just to be on the safe side. Working on some maths, he now focused on the routes Joe could’ve taken. If he could identify the car the man was driving, it could be a big lead.

Men had been caught on less. Laziness in parting with vehicles had been more than one bad guy’s downfall.

He spends lunch time setting up and coding the parameters for his algorithm before letting it loose on two of the most probable routes.

By three, he found Joe and the car he’d been using.

Lindsey went back to the apartment, escorted by two policemen that she vaguely recalled having worked with before. Even though she knew she and Danny had gone carefully over the apartment, she assessed it again. This time she moved slower, taking her time now that she knew Mac was safe.

At the end, she was satisfied to know that they hadn’t missed anything. She closed and locked the door, reapplying the tape to seal it off before they made their way to the bank.

The bloodstain was still in the vault as was the chaos of strewn paper and debris that made its way to the floor. The bag Joe had used to shackle Mac still lay beside the table.

She started from the bag on the floor and moving away behind the teller tables, she searched and catalogued what she could find.

In the end it was a sticky-it note that gave her pause.

It was tacked into a drawer of one of the tables, the little pink note innocuous amongst the clutter. It had a date on it and a time.

It was the same date as the bank heist but the time was wrong. It looked like a reminder for an appointment. It could be anything really. Hair or dentist or doctor. Or picking up kids from school although the time did look wrong for that.

She sat down at the desk and started to carefully go through everything. She found another one balled up in the rubbish bin. Unfurling it, she found a name written on it that wasn’t familiar.

Ethan Scott

And underneath that was written a phone number.

She took more photos before bagging it and writing down the date and location on the evidence bag. Finally done, she went back to the crime lab.

Danny had returned from his assignment and there was a black bag was on the table. Stella was with him, kitted up in gloves and a white coat.

“Hey,” she said as she placed what she had found on the table. “Where did you find that?”

Danny gave a little chuckle. “Hanging from a tree.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Really.”

“Yup. Last one in a long line of marked trees. I swear, it would make a good orienteering course. Kids would love it.” He picked up the bag. From the leftover sparkle, Lindsey could see that they’ve already dusted for prints.

“Okay, we’re about to open it up. Wanna join us?”

“Okay.” She kitted up as they opened the top. It was one of the waterproof bags you can buy at camping stores, to keep things dry when wading through rivers or in rain. One of her friends that loved to go hiking, had shown her once the versatility of the bags.

Danny pulled out a Ziploc bag, filled with what looked like passports. There was another one filled with drivers’ licences. The last thing he pulled out was a prepaid mobile phone, still in its cover.

“I think we found his go bag.” Danny stated as he spread out the drivers’ licences.

“Lots of different names here.” He said, bending over the cards. A name stood out as Lindsey scanned them. Frowning, she reached over and snagged the evidence bag from where she had left it

“Uh, look at this.” She said, comparing the driver’s licence with the note.

“Where did you find that?” Stella asked. She was already reaching for her phone.

“At the bank. There was another note with a date and a time on it. Same day as the bank heist.”

“Okay, I think we can work with this.” Stella said as she nodded before stepping out of the lab. Lindsey gave Danny a look and she followed Stella to Adam’s lab.

“Can you put a trace on the following number?” Stella asked Adam, giving him the phone number when he had opened the triangulation software.

Only when she was in the lab did she see the second screen with a registration number and Joe’s face as he bent down to pick something up from what looked like a toll booth. It was a blue SUV and the licence plate was registered to a Lauren Salinas.

“Hey, that’s the name on the desk where I got that sticky note from.” She said as she stepped closer to the screen.

“What?” Stella turned to her, her finger hovering over the call button.

“Lauren. It was her desk I found the number and name on.”

Stella’s eyes focused laser sharp onto Lindsey before darting to the screen and down to the number she had in her hand. She deleted the number from her phone and then pressed another number.

“Hey Flack.” Stella said, as she tapped Adam on the shoulder to close the app down.

“I think we found your link.”

Stella listened and Lindsey could hear the tinny of Flack’s voice come over the phone. Stella was grinning when she turned to them.

“I know why they were looking for a key. I think one of them made a mistake. Taking Mac wasn’t part of the plan so they had to adjust their timeline. They left the cash in one of the lockers to pick up later.”

“So Flack…”

“…found the locker and there are two duffel bags in there full of the stolen cash.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Day 8

Stella tasked Adam with researching all the aliases. It had taken two days for him to put together a document. Ethan aka Joe seemed to have been busy. His social security number didn’t raise any red flags but his aliases did point to someone who was good at what he did and showed a man who had spent the majority of the last five years honing his craft.

Joe’s business it seems was robbing banks. Derrick, it seems, had contracted Joe into robbing the bank. That was an assumption on their part but based on the evidence, Stella was comfortable that they could make this conjecture. Lauren was Derrick’s girlfriend.

Stella had received the warrant a day ago and had sent Danny and Lindsey to the apartment. Lauren’s clothes were gone as was her toiletries, all indicative of her not returning. The supervisor was adamant that the rent had been paid for the rest of the month and that Lauren had given no forwarding address or any indication of where she would be going.

Flack had set up men to watch the lockers but so far, neither Joe or Derrick or Stella had shown their faces.

A BOLO was still out on Lauren’s car. Adam couldn’t find any further evidence of Lauren’s car or where it could’ve gone. It was as if the three of them had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Stella wondered if they had maybe decided to cut their losses and run. If that was the case, their jurisdiction ended with New York. It would become another cold case until such time they would be flagged by cameras or activities on their accounts.

She closed up her office, putting on her jacket as she made her way towards the elevators. They had started to wean Mac off the sedatives as they felt comfortable with his progress. He had started to wake in the last few hours and the hospital had phoned her to let her know that he was off the ventilator and alert.

She would be allowed a fifteen-minute visit which she has also decided to gauge how much Mac was cognizant and whether it would be an opportune type to also take his statement in part while they put together the charges related to Mac’s abduction and obvious physical abuse he had suffered under Joe and Derrick.

It took her just under thirty minutes to get to the hospital and it felt so good to finally see Mac’s eyes open and aware of who she was. The crinkles around his eyes became more pronounced as he gave her a small wave and a smile.

“Hey,” she said as she stood by his bed. “How’re you doing?”

“Throat’s a bit sore.” Mac whispered. Stella gave him a raised eyebrow and a huff as she reached for his hand and gave it a small squeeze.

“Really?”

Mac shrugged with a wince. “Do you have them in custody yet?”

“No.” She took a small, deeper breath. “How much do you remember?”

“Most of it.” He shifted in the bed, trying to settle. “Things got a bit hazy after I got shot.”

“Who shot you?” She asked as she pulled a chair closer.

“Joe. Said it wasn’t anything personal.”

“Okay.” She took out a recorder, showing Mac. “You up to giving your testimony?”

Mac nodded, reaching for the water that stood next to him. He took a sip before indicating to Stella she could switch it on. She noted the date and time with their location and who was present. Stella was determined to make sure everything was above board. She knew that with Mac as victim, she wouldn’t be able to share any pertinent information with him until the evidence had been logged and a court case had been set. And that is if they catch the two men and Lauren.

She went over her allotted time with Mac as they went through the testimony. She could see his fatigue when she switched off the recorder. Realised the toll it was taking on her boss and friend.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked as she put everything away. His eyes were drifting close but he gave her a quick smile.

“Pissed off.” The reply was curt. He had clearly reached his limit. “I should’ve anticipated…”

“Hey…” She grabbed his hand. Held him, her thumb making gentle circles on his skin, hoping it would ground him. He blinked and then looked at her. She could see anger and frustration in his gaze.

“He fooled a lot of people okay. This wasn’t on you. Joe is smart. He planned for this. Got someone in to prove he didn’t shoot the bank manager. He had an exit strategy all along.”

“I should’ve patted him down before giving him his gun back.”

And there it was. The crux of it. Stella could understand Mac’s anger at himself.

“True.” She said in the end. She wasn’t about to discount his years of experience or be dismissive of his feelings. “Tell me, Mac. When you phoned it in. Told us about his family being held hostage. Did you believe him at that point?”

He gave a small sigh. Closed his eyes, his fingers curling around hers. It took about a minute and she thought he had fallen asleep when he opened his eyes. Blue met hers with conviction.

“Just catch the bastards.”

“That’s the plan.” She gave his hand a squeeze, staying until she was certain that Mac was asleep.

Peter could walk without a limp. He was surprised by how quickly the cut on his foot had healed. His dad was doing better, sitting up in the hospital bed and talking to his mom. When he and his mom had finally gone home last night, they had found their fridge full of food and their cupboards stocked. A thank you card had been placed on the counter and he had read it after his mom had given a joyful shriek and gave an impromptu dance in the kitchen.

To Peter

Just a small thank you for what you have done for Mac.

He had never felt so thankful. Even the small savings jar that he had used had been filled with five- and ten-dollar notes. They wouldn’t go hungry for a while and his mom hummed in front of the stove as she prepared a meal for them for the first time in a week.

Afterwards, he dished up a meal into a container and took cash from the kitty of the money he had borrowed and made his way down to where JJ lived. He knocked but after no-one answered, he stood in front of the door uncertain on whether to try again. JJ had been instrumental in helping him afford the bus ticket and he had promised to pay him back.

Decision made, he walked back to his apartment and going out the window, he went down the rickety fire escape. The window was closed but he knew the trick to opening it, the way JJ had shown him in the past. Inside everything was dark and he placed the container with food on the empty table.

“What are you doing here?”

He looked up, startled. JJ’s mom was in the sitting room, on the couch. Her eyes dark against her skin, almost black in the twilight of the room.

“I brought some food.” He said, indicating the container. The money was still stuffed in his jacket pocket and he wasn’t about to give the cash to JJ’s mom. She would just spend it on her next high as soon as she got it. It would be better to let JJ handle it.

“Where’s JJ?”

She sniffed, scratching at a sore on her arm. “He left.”

Peter felt his heart thump against his chest. This wasn’t good. He knew as much.

“What do you mean he left?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “That boy’s always been more trouble than he's worth. What do I care.”

Peter didn’t bother replying. The indifference was nothing new. JJ had nowhere else to go. And she was still his mom despite her addiction.

“Hey, do you have any cash on you?”

He shook his head, aware of the desperation in her eyes. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her and he made his way out of the apartment back onto the fire escape. The alley it overlooked was already deep into shadows as the sun was going down. He took a deep breath and then made his way back to his own home.

“Mom?” He asked as he entered their home

“I’m here.” She was dressed nicely and he looked appreciatively at her. Grateful for what he had even if they never had much in terms of material things. But it was more than what JJ ever had.

“You want to come with me to visit dad?”

He shook his head. “JJ’s run away.” It was blunt the way he said it and he was surprised at his own honesty. It wasn’t the first time either but somehow this feels different than those other times.

“Oh no.” Her hand raised, covering her mouth and then she stepped up to him, enveloping him into a hug that spoke of safety. Of love. He didn’t want to leave it.

“I can stay…” She says and he sighs. Allows her comfort as everything that had happened seemed to sink in all at once. He shook his head. Felt five again and he remembers the islands and the sun and the way communities came together.

“Mom, I want JJ to live with us.”

He doesn’t know why he said it. But it felt like the right thing to do. And after seeing the man in the park who gave him food and JJ who gave him the money to buy the bus ticket and now this – what Mac’s friends had done for them he was more determined than ever to help others.

He wasn’t surprised when his mom went quiet and then she crushed him even closer to her.

“I'm very proud of you.” She finally said softly. “I would love to have JJ stay with us.”

Peter waited until his mom was asleep before he pulled out the phone he had been given by Stella.

My friend JJ is missing.

He waited, uncertain if it was too late to have sent the message.

Hi Peter. We’re aware. We have someone looking for him. How are you doing?

He thought for a bit. And finally decided on a message.

Thank you for the food and the money.

You’re welcome, Peter. 😊

He smiled at that.

It would be helpful if you can talk to a man named Sheldon. He’s been looking for JJ. I’ll ask your mom if that will be okay.

Sure.

Okay. It’s a bit late so I’ll chat to your mom tomorrow okay.

He switched off the phone. For the first time in a long while he felt content. His stomach was full. He felt safe even with his dad in the hospital.

He was determined to help JJ feel the same.

Flack was frustrated. It was late and he was tired. The last few days were finally catching up with him. He had been in earlier to see Mac. It was good to see his friend awake even if he was pale and withdrawn on the bed. But what he did recognise was the anger Mac held.

It wasn’t an emotion he was unfamiliar with. He was careful as he made his way to the security office and showing his badge, he entered the room. The monitors had been set up, three separate to the wall of screens on one wall that covered most of the bus station. Two of his guys were seated, empty coffee mugs in front of them on the table.

“How’s it looking here?” He asked as he passed the pizza box to the two guys.

“All quiet, detective. No interest in the locker and no hint of the perps.”

He raised eyebrows at the word. Slightly amused as a young eager face looked back at him. He led the word slide, patting the man on his shoulder.

“Okay. When will your next shift change?”

“Midnight.”

He nodded at that as he pulled a chair closer and sat down. Staring at the screens. It was surprising that none of the three had gone even close to the lockers since he opened them and found the cash. He was certain they weren’t anywhere close during that time. If Joe or Derrick had even shown an inkling of themselves, he would’ve known. Well…Adam would’ve known. Whatever smarts he ran on the computer would’ve picked it up. He was convinced of it.

He mulled over his choices as he grabbed a pizza slice and shared banter with the two guys. His eyes not leaving the screen as he wondered again on how something as simple as a key could bring down a very well-orchestrated bank heist.

Something didn’t sit right for him. Indicating to the screen, he turned his head and called out to the station security guy that sat in front of the screens.

“Oi. What’s behind that wall?”

The man – as he turned, he saw the name tag of Dave – said, “What do you mean?”

His accent was thick Brooklyn, the pronunciation with its dropped r and distinctive vowel sounds was clear.

“There – behind that wall. What’s on the other side?”

“Uh…”

“Is there someone we can call that would know?” He asked. His stomach was churning. Something felt off. The fact that none of the three had so much as shown their faces was suddenly a red flag.

“The janitor might know…” Dave said, a crease between his eyebrows as he tapped on the table in front of him.

“Fine. When’s his shift?”

“Uh…” Dave looked down at his watch. “He should be in the south bathrooms.”

“Can you get him on the horn?”

“Sure thing.”

Flack stood by as the security guard radioed the janitor. It took a good fifteen minutes before the janitor made his way over to the office. He greeted the man whose name was Mike. He was older, weathered and looked world weary. Grey hair stood in tufts around his head and brown eyes met Flack’s without any malice.

“Do you know what’s behind this wall?” Flack asked, pointing to the screen where his guys were still watching.

“Sure. There’s a back alley of sorts. Built in. More of a maintenance nook than anything else.”

“Can you take me there?” He asked. Pointing to Matthews, he indicated him with a wave of his hand. “You, Matthews, came with me.”

“Sure.” The officer stood. Flack looked at the young eager face, wondering when he’d been that young. But he needed backup just in case something hinky went down. They followed the janitor to an unassuming door. Inside was a cleaning cupboard, about the size of a walk-in one you’d find at one of the larger penthouses in New York. He walked to the back and unlatched a smaller door that opened into a narrow-darkened alley. There was a switch on the wall that Mike flipped and a row of three bulbs flickered to life, giving Flack some horror movie vibes. His hand unconsciously landed on his gun and he took a moment to just settle his nerves.

He looked down the corridor. It was empty except for a small pile of debris halfway down the alleyway.

“That shouldn’t be there.” Mike said, frowning. “Sorry. I was down here the other day and it was clean.”

“When?” Flack didn’t step in. Eyed the floor as he reached out to stop Mike from moving further down the corridor.

“Two days ago. It cuts moving between bathrooms down probably by twenty minutes. I keep this clean.”

“Yeah. I believe you. Just stay there, will you.” He said as he stepped away and reached for his phone. It was late. He was aware but he did it anyway.

The phone rang three times before Stella answered.

“Hey, I think I know why we haven’t seen hide nor hair of these guys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There’s a backway, Stella and they went in that way. They know the money’s gone. They probably know we’re looking for them.”

“You at the station?”

“Yup.”

“Okay…” He heard a rustle and then a small grunt. “Uh…I’ll send…just hold on…”

He waited. He felt slightly guilty for having woken her.

“Okay. I’ll send Sheldon your way. Do you need more?”

“No. That should be okay. I just don’t want to contaminate anything. I’ll wait for him. They’re long gone, Stella. I don’t see them coming back here.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He sends the janitor off to do his duties after he had interviewed him. There was nothing more to do but wait and he sent Matthews back to do the shift change. He’ll call the watch off after Sheldon did his thing.

He was certain that Joe or Derrick was going to come back here.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his phone, coming to a stand as Sheldon entered the room. Flack indicated with his head to the smaller doorway. “Through there. No-one’s been in there. Janitor says he keeps it clean. Been through there around 2 days ago.”

He knew enough not to give his own opinion or assumptions. The evidence needed to do the talking for them. Based on what Sheldon found, they’ll be able to make some very good conjectures. Mac had never liked when he had guessed, going off his gut sometimes. But he also knew that for a lot of police work it had to do with an innate ability to know something wasn’t right.

Sheldon clicked on a torch, shining it down the corridor. There wasn’t much in terms of footprints. The janitor had told the truth when he said that he kept it clean. Even the odd cobweb seemed to be missing and he watched as Sheldon carefully stepped down the corridor until he stopped just short of the pile of debris.

“Ah yes. I see what they did here.” He said as he took the camera from his bag that he carefully put down and took a few shots.

“Care to share?” Flack said, staying where he was.

“They drilled a hole through the stone and into the back of the locker. Big enough to check. Didn’t bother after they realised that the locker was empty.”

He watched as Sheldon took out a fingerprint kit and started dusting around the hole.

“This is a bit out the way…” He said, eyes narrowing. “The janitor knew about this place. Used it but the security guard didn’t know. I wonder how many of the employees use this shortcut?”

Sheldon shrugged as he focused on dusting and pulling prints.

“I’ll get a list from Mike…” Flack said as Sheldon finished up. “I’ll talk to Stella but I think I’ll tell the guys to go home. I don’t think they’re coming back.”

Sheldon nodded as he took samples of the dust and metal shavings by his feet. “Yeah…I think you’re right. They have their photo’s up at the main office here as persons of interest so I think that would be okay.”

Sheldon finished up, gathering all his supplies.

“You want me to cordon this off?” Flack asked as the other man stepped past him.

“No. I’ve got what I needed and there isn’t much more evidence to gather. Is there any footage outside the entryway?”

“I don’t know. I’ll check.”

“Yeah, that would be good. Let them send it to Adam to look at. I’ll go log these. Good luck.”

Flack looked at his watch. It was just before 2 am. He could feel it in how grainy his eyes were and the fatigue that seemed to settle over him. Coffee wasn’t going to do it anymore. He needs to get some sleep in.

He made his way back to the security office and got Dave to get Mike back. It wasn’t a long list of people that knew about the corridor. Luck had it but there was a camera that covered the door. Apparently, a few years back there were some guys who broke in and stole cleaning supplies to produce their own version of meth. They were caught after they put the camera up and since then it had been quiet. He had Dave send off a copy of the last two days via a courier to the lab and only then he was ready to leave.

He got home at four and didn’t bother undressing as he fell into bed, hugging his pillow to himself. In less than a minute he was asleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Day 9

Peter and his mom met with Sheldon at a Starbucks that wasn’t too far from the hospital. In all honesty, Peter was trying his best to look like it didn’t faze him but he had actually never been in one before. For his family, this was an expense just a bit too far and they always just drank what they could make at home. Sheldon paid for their drinks and he was sipping hot chocolate that had two marshmallows drifting in the rich drink.

It was heavenly and a new experience that he promised himself that he would never take for granted.

“Thanks for meeting me, Peter.” Sheldon said after he had greeted his mom and they had all settled. He gave a small nod, glancing at his mom who gave him an encouraging look. Sheldon had a small notebook out, sitting open in front of him next to his coffee.

“We’ve been looking for JJ but so far had no luck finding him. We just want to make sure that his safe. Your mom said earlier that you’re looking at letting JJ stay with you. I think that might be a great idea, Peter. Looking out for your friend is a good thing to do.”

Peter felt tension release when he heard that it would actually be okay. He had been a little afraid even if his mom said yes that the government would still take Peter away. It was one of the reasons you didn’t snitch. Being in a place you know was better than going somewhere else where you didn’t know the rules. Or the people.

“Okay.” He smiled shyly at Sheldon. “Thanks.”

“Good. Hey, can you maybe give me a few likely places where you think JJ would hang out when he wasn’t home?”

Peter took a deep breath. It was obvious now that his mom had told them that it wasn’t the first time that JJ had run away. Usually, his friend would return home after a few days and only after his mom promised him, she would get clean.

It lasted about a week before the need of her addiction overrode all promises and she was back to doing what she did to get high.

But for that week at least, JJ would speak about the possibility of his mom getting off drugs. Of hope.

“He liked hanging out by the bus station.” He said. “JJ says that it is open with possibilities, you know. Getting on a bus and just getting away from it all. Starting new somewhere else.”

“Okay. Does he find a place to sleep there?”

“Sometimes.” Peter said. “There is this little alleyway, you know. Hidden away. He told me about it once. That he could get some rest without anyone bothering you or asking you to leave. Most of the guards don’t know about it.”

Sheldon’s eyes widened a little but he scribbled into his little notebook. Peter wondered what was going on. If he had said something wrong and suddenly, he wondered if he was causing JJ to get into more trouble.

“He’s not bad, you know.” He says, stumbling over his words. “His mom just kinda…” he looks at his own mom, who had told him to always be careful about what you said about others especially when they struggle. “…she tries.” He said in the end.

“It’s okay, Peter.” Sheldon placated the boy. “We all want the same thing here, okay. For JJ to be in a safe place and I think that you and your family would be that place. Let’s find him okay. Make sure he’s okay and then we’ll help you guys get things sorted so he can live with you. Does that sound like a plan?”

Peter nodded. It did.

“Good. Does JJ go to any particular soup kitchens or charities?”

“Nah. He usually finds food behind some of the restaurants. They sometimes throw out great food.” He shrugs. “JJ says if you're quick enough, the food is still good.”

“Okay. Thanks, Peter. Can you give me a list of those places please.”

Peter had to think about it. It’s been a while since he’s gone with JJ to go dumpster diving. But he remembered a few and gave the names and where they are to Sheldon. His mom said nothing to his revelation and he wondered if he’d be in trouble later.

Sheldon reached across the table, offering his hand and Peter shook it. He felt decidedly grown up by this action for some reason.

“Thank you, Peter. I’ll try my best to bring your friend back to you, okay.”

He nodded, finishing his hot chocolate as Sheldon left. His mom was quiet next to him for a bit.  

“Peter.” She finally said softly and he looked up at her.

“How many times did JJ not have food at home?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

She gave a small sigh and then seemed to settle her shoulders into something that was familiar to Peter. He knew his mom had come to a decision. One that wasn’t easily going to be changed when she got like this.

Like the time when they had no food and she had marched all of them down to Mr Hardeep’s grocery store and had them all clean, wash and sort out the backroom and got groceries as payment.

“Mom?”

She rose and pulled her bag over her shoulder, she set off as Peter scrambled to follow.

“Where are we going?”

“JJ will need a bed and we will need to sort out his clothes. I’ll have a talk to his mom about the new living arrangements.”

“What?”

She turned to him. “That boy is not going hungry ever again, Peter. You hear me. Never, while he’s living in our house.”

Sheldon stepped into the meeting room at the lab. Stella was already seated at the small table with Flack, Danny and Lindsy present as well. As he turned, Adam rushed in, his arms loaded with a laptop, a file folder with what looked like photographic paper slipping out.

“Sorry…” He apologised as he dumped what he had on the table.

“It’s okay, Adam.” Stella tried to placate the younger man. “Sheldon just got here.”

“Okay. Uhm, let me just…” he mumbled as he looked for the cable to plug his pc into the big screen that was bolted into the wall on the other end of the room. A login screen appeared and Adam was quick to type in his credentials. He was sitting down now and passed along the photos in his shoulder. Hunching down, he moved his mouse.

Sheldon’s concern increased when he looked at the photos. There were three of them. Flack swore under his breath and Stella took a deep breath. Danny and Lindsy looked as concerned as what he felt.

“Here we go. Going over the footage over the last 3 days, I found Joe and Derrick. They dressed in the same clothes as the cleaning company employees that do the bathrooms in and around the station. Both had hats which made the facial recognition software provide a low probability curve. I changed algorithms late yesterday and I finally got a hit this morning.”

He took a breath as they watched the two men enter the walk-in cupboard. Adam fast-forwarded the footage.

“They stayed approximately 30 minutes. I guess the tools they used were in the backpacks they carried. They wore gloves – which wouldn’t have looked out of place working in bathrooms either. Uhm…here.”

He paused the video. Coming out of the door was Joe and Derrick. And in between them, with Joe’s hand curled around an arm, tight enough to leave bruises were JJ.

“Dammit.” Danny’s voice broke the stillness as they all understood the implication of what they were seeing.

“How far could you track them?” Stella asked.

“To the parking garage at 350 W 43 rd Street. They left in Lauren’s car.” He switched tabs, going to another page.

On the video they could clearly see Joe and Derrick in the front of the sedan at the entrance of the parking garage as they were leaving.

“Where’s the boy?” Lindsy asked. Flack was reaching for his phone.

“I’ll put out an Amber alert. Adam, send me a photo of JJ.”

Sheldon watched as Flack left, already on his phone as he exited the room.

“Do we know what level they parked?” Danny asked.

“Uh…no. Sorry.”

“Okay.” Danny gave Lindsy a look as Flack re-entered the room.

“Amber alert is out.”

“Can we get a canvas going at the parking garage?” Stella asked Flack. “Also, the most likely routes they would’ve taken between the garage and the station. Sheldon knew what Stella was saying.

The chances of JJ still being alive was highly unlikely. But they’ve seen miracles before and he wasn’t about to discount it.

JJ was a survivor.

He was certain the boy would’ve put up a fight. Maybe try and make a run for it.

“I’ve got a list from Peter where JJ would dumpster dive.”

“Okay, split the list in two. You and I will take one and let Danny and Lindsy take the other. Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’s cameras.”

Mac was tired and annoyed. He hadn’t done much since waking up earlier but had breakfast and then had a nurse help him get out of bed to go to the bathroom. The short walk alone had felt like he had run a marathon. He had to take a breather, while sitting on the shower stool as he took deep, gulping breaths that hurt while the nurse talked him through his minor panic attack when it had felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It was disconcerting. Normally stoic and proud of his ability to look at the facts without attaching emotion behind it, he couldn’t understand where the fear and panic had come from. His wound hurt and if he closed his eyes, he could still see Joe’s face as he told Mac that it wasn’t personal before pulling the trigger.

He shivered and pulled the blankets that covered his body higher as he settled in bed.

The shock of the impact as the bullet slammed through his body vibrated through his muscles in memory. He gave a soft sigh, trying his best to ignore his memories and grunted as he reached over and grabbed the remote, switching on the TV. He flipped through a few channels and finally settled on a baseball channel.

Somewhere around the second innings he fell asleep. Lulled to sleep by the white noise of the tv and the rustle of moment in the hallway of people passing by and nurses going about their business of doing their job.

He woke later to find Stella sitting on a chair by the window, reading a file. His TV was still on what looked like a different minor league game. He didn’t recognize any of the two teams playing.

“Hey.”

She looked up and gave him a small smile. “Hey. Good nap?”

“Not much else to do.” He said in the end as he raised the bed. “How’s the investigation going?”

Stella gave him a look he was familiar with. “Mac, you know I can’t…”

“Yes, sorry. Force of habit…”

“Heard you went for a small walk this morning.” She said instead as she closed the file on her lap.

“Emphasis on small.” He sighed. “The nurse promised it would get better as my lung injury heals. They have a physiotherapist booked for tomorrow morning. Barring any complications I would be able to go home within the next five days.”

Stella’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. They don’t wait around anymore, do they?”

He shook his head. “My sats are good. The biggest risk is pneumonia and infection and they’re giving me the good stuff currently.” He said as he raised his arm where the IV line was attached.

“How are you doing otherwise?” She asked softly.

Mac looked away from her. He was uncomfortable. This morning felt a lifetime ago. And that reminded him of waking up in the hollow next to the stream. Of the feeling of not being able to breath. Of suffocating in his own blood.

“Mac!”

He opened his eyes. Stella was standing next to his bed, her hand a steady presence on his head. Her hair a veil around her face as she leaned over him.

“I’m okay.” He finally said.

“You sure?”

He nodded. “The boy?”

Stella straightened and reached for his water and poured him a glass. She helped him to take a sip. He was grateful as he tucked his hands under the covers, pulling the blanket up. There was an obvious tremor that he wanted to hide. He took a deep, strengthening breath, trying to get his swirling thoughts back into control.

“What do you remember?” She asked.

“I gave your number to him. He called, right?”

She nodded. It was an obvious conclusion Mac could make.

“He was there, wasn’t he?” Mac said in the end. His breathing was easier. “Where you found me.”

“You were unconscious for most of it.” Stella said.

“He saved my life.”

She could only nod. Mac knew how close he had come to dying.

“I’d like to thank him.”

“I think we can arrange something.” Stella said, giving him a small smile. Her phone buzzed and she stepped to the chair she’d been sitting in. She gave a quick look before gathering her jacket, bag and the file.

“Sorry, duty calls. Flack said he’ll be by tonight. Do you need anything?”

“Coffee?”

She laughed. “I don’t think your doctor would appreciate it.”

“One of my forensic books. I’ve got one by my bedside table.”

Stella leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “Enjoy your baseball.” She said and Mac watched her leave. He settled, turning his attention to the game, well aware that his current recovery was very much dependent on him resting and looking after his body.

He was also very determined that Joe and Derrick weren’t going to escape the clutches of his team. He knew how good his team was. He wasn’t going to jeopardise their investigation by doing anything stupid.

He thought about the energy he had expanded just walking to the bathroom. His own physical limitations.

He leaned over and reached into his drawer, taking his phone out. He scrolled through the numbers in his phone book and considered Joe’s choices and what he had come to know of the man in the past few days he had been in his company.

Considered what he knew of the dynamic between Joe and Derrick. Their relationship. The obvious barely constrained toleration they had for each other. He remembers their arguments over him. The money. The way forward.

More than what he had shared in his initial witness statement.

It was coming back now. With remembering the sense of the boy that sat at his side, a steady hand on his shoulder keeping him grounded even in his delirium and unconscious state. He couldn’t quantify what he had experienced. Only knowing that he needed to hold on to life.

He finally found a number he had been looking for. It didn’t take long before his call was answered.

“Hey, it’s me…” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Day 10

Mac isn’t sure what it was that woke him. It was early morning. The curtains were drawn over the windows and the only ambient light came from the nightlight that was switched on in the bathroom in case he needed to use the facilities.

He lay still, listening to the quiet of the room as he focused on regulating his breathing. The nightmare had been vivid and he wiped the sweat from his forehead, trying to gain control of his mind. His heart was still pounding even after he had told himself that his nightmare wasn’t real.

“You’re a lot tougher than you look.”

He looks towards the voice, his own words trapped in the centre of his dry throat. Seated in the chair Stella had sat in yesterday, was Joe. There was a note of respect in the words that were spoken as the man studied him. Joe gives a half smirk when Mac doesn’t reply, and then a soft chuckle seems to escape from the other man.

“You know, out of all the jobs I had to do in the past…not once,” Joe says, raising a finger as he shook his head in disbelief, “…not once had I ever been identified as the perpetrator. I was always careful. I made sure to keep things clean. I didn’t use excessive violence. I didn’t kill anyone. I got in, got out and spent the money afterwards.”

“Should I feel sorry for you?” Mac asks. He tries and fails to locate the remote that had been lying by his left side as he considers the choices that lay before him.

“I unplugged it.” Joe says, indicating with his head behind Mac towards the wall. Not wanting to give the other man any more control that he already had over him, Mac shifted slowly into a seated position before he looked behind him. Even in the twilight of the room, he could see the empty space on the wall where the remote is usually plugged in.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

“Your team has been extremely busy bees.” Joe says. “They have come the closest anyone ever has to finding out who I am.”

Anger hardens his face as he presses his lips together. Mac takes a careful breath. The dull ache on his back where the bullet had exited sharpens and he suppresses a groan that threatens to escape.

“They have something of mine.”

“Forgot more incriminating evidence?” He narrows his eyes as he studies the other man. “ Why are you still here?”

Joe pursed his lips. He shifts and then pushes himself to his feet. Mac notices the gun in the man’s hand for the first time. The dark of the barrel glints briefly as Joe steps up to the bed. It rests against the criminal’s thigh, a warning to what could happen if Mac dared to fight back.

“Up you get.” Joe commands, ignoring Mac’s question. “We’re going for a walk, nice and easy. I even brought transport.”  He indicates a wheelchair that sat at the foot end of Mac’s bed. “And detective…I will use this if you give me a reason too. There are a lot of innocent hardworking people that can become collateral if you insist on being a hero.”

“I remember.” Mac said as he swung his feet off the bed and pulled out the IV from his hand.

“Good. Come on then.” Mac didn’t resist as he was pulled from the bed and then shoved into the wheelchair. Goosebumps formed on his arms and he shivered. He hadn’t realised how warm he’d been under the additional blanket a nurse had put over him earlier in the evening. Joe tucked it from the bed and shifted it around his body so that it covered his legs. Standing behind him, Mac felt the gun barrel as it dug into his neck while Joe leaned over him.

“The nurses’ station will be empty. I’ve created a distraction for them further down the hallway and should come into play about now. Once we’re in the elevator, we’re going down to the garage level. There is a van parked close by. You will get in it without fighting me and you will allow me to restrain you.”

“So, what, you’re driving me back to the woods to finish the job?” Mac asked incredulously. The gun barrel pushed into his neck hard enough that he knew he’d have a bruise later.

“I told you. Your team has something I want.”

“We don’t negotiate with criminals…”

“That is not true, detective and I know you know that. You listened to what I had to say in the bank and guess what, you gave me back my gun and walked out with me as your hostage taker.”

“I won’t make that mistake again.” Mac said angrily as Joe reversed the chair and pushed him towards the hallway.

They watch as nurses rush past his door, the distant sound of an alarm going off echoing off the walls before Joe pushes him away from his room towards the elevator.

“No, I don’t think you will. Keep behaving, and who knows…you might make it out of this alive.”

“What do you mean he’s not in his room?” Stella asks in panic, her hand clenching around her phone as she steps into her office. She closes the door behind her as she comes to a standstill beside her desk. The sun was beginning to rise, its rays stabbed through the window of her office, highlighting her desk and the mess of paperwork she had left last night after she had finally gone home.

The voice of the duty nurse was harried. Her concern was evident as she explained that they had put a full alert out and had searched the floor for Mac. He still had a minor fever and should not be walking without assistance nor should he have left the hospital without signing himself out. Stella scrunched her face.

The lack of sleep over the last week compounded with inconsistent meals and stress was making her head throb right between her eyes. She didn’t know how Mac did it day in and day out consistently. When all of this was done, she was going to apologise to him for all the times she had been difficult.

“Did you ask security?”

She slowly sat down at her desk as the nurse explained that the cameras had been down last night due to maintenance. That it was scheduled in and because it was early hours of the morning when the only people awake was staff and it wouldn’t inconvenience anyone else.

“Did anything else happen last night?” Stella asked as she one handed reached for the drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of Advil. She listens as the nurse gives an answer, asking for clarity. She pops off the lid and manages to fish out two. Leaving the tablets on her desk, she reaches for a water bottle that had been left on her desk last night.

“Uh…what I mean is did anyone else visit Mac last night?”

She downed the pills, grimacing at the tepid water she swallowed. She wondered if she was going to find him back at his apartment, passed out on his couch with the casefile in his hand. It was entirely feasible, seeing that he was on the mend and probably would like a hand in capturing Joe and Derrick.

“Okay,” she leaned back in her chair. A thought took hold and she asked instead, “Uh, did anything else happen between last night and this morning…”

The duty nurse paused and for a moment seemed uncertain how to answer her question. She must’ve moved away from where she’d been talking to Stella, because when she spoke, her voice was softer and the background noise had faded as she explained that a patient on the floor had gone into cardiac arrest at around 4 am, which had left the station empty as the staff had responded to the incident.

Stella looked at her watch. That was two hours ago. The nurse promised to call Stella when they located Mac but she indicated that she didn’t hold out much hope that her patient was still on the premises.

She flung her phone onto her desk, leaning her head against her hands.

Dammit, Mac. Seriously.

They were still looking for JJ. Yesterday had been a bust. No one had seen the boy. Even the places where Peter had indicated JJ would frequent had been disappointingly empty. Danny and Lindsy had scoured the garage and had looked in all the places’ bodies would normally be stashed in. It only left one conclusion that they could draw after the alleyways between the bus station and the garage came up empty as well, is that Joe and Derrick must’ve stashed the boy either in the trunk of the car or on the backseat, out of the way of cameras and any curios passerby.

She looked up when a soft knock came on her door. Sheldon stepped inside when she motioned him to come in. A look of concern settled on his face when he saw the still open bottle of Advil she had yet to close on her desk. She dropped the empty bottle of water in her bin before stuffed the cap on the Advil bottle and threw it back into her open drawer.

“Anything?” She asks, eyeing the paperwork on her desk. Her hands got busy as she gathered a few of the sheets together.

“We had a few calls come in on the Amber alert but so far, no luck. He’s just another black kid from a bad neighbourhood gone missing, Stella.”

“I know.” She sighed. At least it looked like what she had gathered was on one of their older cases they’ve been working on. She had to sign a few of them for the court date that was looming closer. The work never ends, despite their current priority of looking for Joe and Derrick and finding JJ.

“The hospital called.” Sheldon looked surprised. Stella’s instincts screamed at her that something was wrong. If nothing else, Mac would’ve at least let someone on the team know that he was going home. “He didn’t call you?” She asked as she rose from her chair. Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone.

“No. Yes…” Sheldon stood aside as she pushed past him and grabbed her bag from the coat hanger that stood beside the door. “We spoke last night after you left. He was still on antibiotics and he asked me to bring him clothes and toiletries as the doctor told him that she wanted him to stay for another three days at least.”

“Dammit.” She turned to Sheldon. He was standing right behind her, confusion and concern vying for attention on his face.

“Stella, what is going on?”

“Mac isn’t at the hospital anymore. I thought he might’ve gone home. You know what he’s like. Probably trying to solve his own case and catch Joe…”

“What?”

She opened her door, her fingers already dialling Flack’s number while she stabbed at the down arrow beside the elevator. Flack answered his phone, his voice gruff and she knew she had woken him up.

“Joe has Mac.”

Sheldon slipped into the elevator with her as the doors opened while Flack’s voice came clearly over her phone, loud enough that she held it away from her ear.

“I don’t know, okay. I have no proof. I’m going to the hospital with Sheldon. They phoned me to say that Mac had left sometime during the night. I thought he might’ve just gone home, you know.”

“Is it about the money?”

In all honesty, she hadn’t even considered it. She glanced up at Sheldon as she weighed up her options.

“Maybe…” She pushed the button that would lead them to the ground floor. “…or revenge. Look, I don’t know at this point in time. Can you send uniforms to his apartment in case he’d actually gone home. Sheldon and I are going to the hospital to have a look at his room and interview the nurses.”

“Okay…wait, Stella. I’ll phone you back…”

She could hear Flack breathing over the phone and then a curse before he cut off the phone. They rode the rest of the way in silence, while Stella wondered where she had gone wrong. She had never considered that Joe would be brazen enough to kidnap Mac from the hospital. The net was closing around the man and he was now acting out of desperation.

She wasn’t surprised when she got a call from an unknown number as she and Sheldon stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“I sent two uniforms to Mac’s place. His not home, Stella. I’m on my way to the hospital. I’ll meet you there.”

It took them twenty minutes against the early morning traffic before the taxi they had taken dropped them off at the front entrance. Flack was waiting for them and they made their way up to the floor where Mac had been.

“We cleaned up a bit, you know. Couldn’t have needles lying around. It’s against hospital policy and we’ll be libel if anyone stepped or hurt themselves on them.” The nurse explained as Stella stepped into the room. The bed had been made and the IV stand neatly pushed back into a corner, out of the way. Other than that, Mac’s forensic book she had Danny drop off last night was still on his bed stand.

“Is that normal?” She asked as she pointed to the empty port on the wall where the remote for the bed and tv would normally be plugged in.

“Oh…uh. No. I’m sorry. I’m not sure how I missed that.” The nurse stepped forward but Stella held out a hand, indicating to her stay where she was. She and Sheldon gloved up; the former pathologist stepped up to pick up the cord that was on the floor behind the head of the bed.

He fingerprinted the cord, taking photos when they got three good prints at the end of the cable where it would plug in to the wall.

“I’ll send them off to Adam.” He said as he stepped to the bathroom. She studied the chair while Flack told her that he’d interview the duty nurse to find the numbers for those that had been on duty last night.

The chair had been wiped down and when she asked Wendy - the nurse that had accompanied them to the room - about it, she told her that it was standard practice to clean the room early morning before breakfast arrived. Somehow, they had cleaned all the obvious things in the room but had neglected to clean behind the bed. In some ways, the age-old practice of ignoring the hidden nooks behind or under couches and beds had led to more than one conviction of those that had thought they had gotten away with it.

Sheldon emerged from the bathroom. “It’s clean in there.”

“Okay…Mac is not mobile. Joe would’ve needed to use a wheelchair. Front door…?”

“There will be questions.” Sheldon said. “It’s too early for patients to be discharged. And too much traffic. Cameras and security.”

“Are there any elevators that go directly to the garage?” She demanded from Wendy.

“A staff one.” The nurse admitted. “But you need a card.”

“Show me.” Stella said, stepping into the hallway and looking up and down the corridor.

“This way.” Wendy said as she moved past Stella. Flack was busy writing things down in his notebook, his attention on the duty nurse who said behind the counter of the nurse’s station. The elevator was about halfway down the corridor on the opposite side of where they’d come in. Beside the button a card reader sat snug and she indicated to Wendy to summon the elevator.

Flack joined them as the doors opened.

“I’ve got the numbers of those on duty. Most of them have gone home in the last hour.”

Sheldon’s phone beeped and he looked at the text that appeared as Stella investigated the buttons. There were no viable prints. The most common button pressed was for the garage and she wasn’t surprised by that either.

“It’s Joe.” Sheldon’s voice was soft as they descended. “Joe was in that room, Stella.”

She swore internally, trying to keep a stoic face as the doors opened. There was a bay right beside the elevator and as she stepped around a pillar, she felt her heart sink into her shoes.

Standing snug against the pillar where it wouldn’t be seen by those entering the hospital, sat the wheelchair.

And placed carefully against the backrest, was an envelope. It had Stella’s name printed on the front, and right next to her name Joe had left her a bloody thumbprint.

Stella didn’t need to compare it to the files they had in the office to know whose it was.

“I’m calling it in.” Flack said as anger darkened his eyes when he reached for his phone. “I’ll check security – there’s a camera over the entrance.”

“The cameras were down for maintenance.” She said tiredly. “We might do better to see if any vehicles left the building. There could be cameras across the way…”

Sheldon had picked up the envelope after he had taken photos. He passed it to her, giving her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. She opened the flap at the back that had been pushed in.

Inside was a simple get-well card with a colourful painted picture of balloons and a teddy bear with a blue hat on it.

“What the hell…”

She opened it.

Inside there were two photos. Those of the variety you normally would get out of an instant camera that printed a photo immediately. One was of JJ. The boy had been crying. His cheeks were wet, trails of tears making its way through the dirt that was streaked across his face. He was tied to what looked like a post in a basement that could be anywhere in New York. His clothes were filthy and a nasty gash sat above his eyebrow. Blood had dried on the one side of his face but the eyes that stared at the camera were angry.

The second photo was of Mac. He was still dressed in his pyjamas and he was seated in a wheelchair beside the pillar. She couldn’t see any signs of Mac having been hurt in the photo but it didn't mean anything. Joe had already proven that he would use violence to make sure Mac behaved.

On the inside of the card a set of instructions had been printed and pasted. It looked like a standard A4 sheet and even the print looked pretty standard Times Roman type print.

Sheldon swore. He was reading the card over her shoulder and she glanced at him before focusing on the actual words themselves.

Joe wanted the money he and Derrick had stolen returned, paid into a bank account offshore.

After he has confirmed everything has been paid in, he would send them instructions on where to pick up Mac and JJ.

They had until noon to comply.

He didn’t say what he would do if they didn’t obey. He didn’t need to. It was fairly obvious what would happen if they didn’t do what Joe wanted.

Chapter Text

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&J 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.