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Why hadn’t he told them?
Why hadn’t he told them?
It made sense now, though, so much sense she kicked herself for never realising - things hadn’t been right. They hadn’t been right for days. The dark circles under his eyes, the way he’d been pinching his nose so often she joked he’d wear it away.
A joke he hadn’t appreciated.
They’d assumed it was the familiarity of the case. An unsub who took young girls from broken homes, who targeted divorced families. It was no surprise that Captain Howard took it personally - heck, one of the guys on the team had a certain ferality about him with this one, but…
The newest victim had been Janey.
Janey, with her wide smile and eager eyes. Janey, who loved cake and always noticed when someone needed a bigger slice, when that bit of sweetness cheered them up in return.
Janey, who was alive - thankfully - and clutching Lucy’s hand like a lifeline as she all but dragged the child through the warren of tunnels. Her heart had near as damnit stopped when she realised the face staring up at her from the cell was one she knew, one she needed to bring home safe. They knew another girl had been taken, but the Captain hadn’t shared with his crew that this victim was particularly close to home.
They’d gotten the letter almost, God, a week ago, she realised as she pressed herself and Janey to the wall, listening for any sign of the killer.
The twelfth letter. At first it had been once every few months. Then every month. Then he’d shocked them with a fortnight, and now, every week.
I have another girl. Take your time, please, I do so enjoy this game of cat and mouse.
Escalating, her book called it - borrowed from the library, photocopied and annotated til the pages curled. Serial killers escalated, and with each sunrise the whole team knew they were inching ever closer to another body, another family they’d have to let down.
A week.
A week without him telling them the truth.
It must have felt like a lifetime.
His little girl, missing, taken by the enemy he’d failed to foil, and he’d kept utterly silent. He’d always been a private man, but this was something else.
They’d have understood, if he’d told them.
If he’d just been honest.
Lucy had worked out the puzzle from the letters on the subway home, an epiphany that had her sprinting from the train at the next stop - a good dozen sooner than she’d intended. It was so simple, now that she’d seen it - the clues, the pictures.
This wasn’t even her usual train.
Steph had asked her to come round for dinner, and oh god she was late. A small hand squeezed hers and she swallowed thickly, offering the child what she desperately hoped was a warm smile. She couldn’t hear anything, but still led them towards the door as quietly as she could.
She’d been gazing out the train window when she spotted the warehouse - framed by a bridge leg, the first clue they’d received. Painted white and grey and black, layers upon layers of covered graffiti, the second. A circus was in full swing on the field beside, one she’d offered to take Norm to just a few days before.
The third clue - a scrap of white and red fabric, torn from one of the tents.
He’d sent it weeks before the circus had even arrived, so far in advance they’d assumed it was from a bodega awning, not… not something as obvious as a circus. Had he kept other victims here, or had he planned this spot for Janey weeks ago?
She’d abandoned dinner, abandoned the train, and had all but screamed down a pay-phone for backup, hanging up before they confirmed.
Norm had turned down the circus with a simple look, and she’d never seen so happy for it as she’d descended into the place. No doubt in here somewhere the crew would find a letter or a video diary promising the killer’s actions were for the betterment of mankind, or something of the like, but all Lucy had seen as she passed the makeshift cells was experimentation.
Experimentation and loss.
“Miss Lucy…”
The poor girl was breathless, and Lucy crouched, feeling the chill of her skin as she pressed her hand against the girl’s cheeks.
Lucy’s coat was far too big for poor Janey, but she slipped it over her small shoulders anyway. How could anyone do this? Harm children? Who could look into those big, brown eyes and snatch her away?
Lucy stared into those eyes, now - eyes that looked at her from the Captain’s desk every time he called her in to chastise her for being a soft touch, too trusting, too naive.
She hadn’t expected to find those eyes here.
There was a camera in the corner of the hallway, one of those floating ones the police themselves used - though given the amount of tape holding the thing together, it wasn’t one piloted by Max. Goodness, she hoped they’d have some friendly robots down here soon, even if the Captain insisted Max drove them with the finesse of a Sunday morning shopper. Just… any additional eyes at her back, any safety she could possibly get.
She should have waited for backup, but when she’d been able to pick the lock, when she’d been able to pick Janey’s lock, how could she leave them?
She’d always been a dab hand with a bobby pin, after all.
The camera bobbed in place, and the first shot rang, ruby red and burning hot.
These were not like Max’s.
She felt the blast hit, a weakened laser - likely one he’d been cobbling together here, a simple fact that likely saved her life. She pushed Janey behind her and into a doorframe, breathing heavily through the pain. She had her 9mm, she just needed to make sure she didn’t get hit again. She-
“MacLean!”
A shot rang through the hallway, and as the Captain rounded the doorway, slamming a foot into the downed robot, she’d never seen him so mad.
“You’re fucking suspended, MacLean! Since day you stumbled into my precinct, acting like you’d never seen the outside world, I have been forced to make it my personal mission to try and make sure you survive, and heading into danger with no intel or backup is exactly the opposite of what I’d expect anyone with half a brain to ever-“
Lucy felt the small hands tighten on her trousers as she tried to interrupt, as she tried to get even a word in edgeways, as she tried to explain, but she didn’t need to - not as a face appeared from behind her, and she watched her Captain's face soften in an instant.
Janey’s name on his lips was a sigh of relief, and the small girl, drowning in Lucy’s coat, devolved into sobs the instant he dropped to his knees before her. He held the small figure for a moment, then glanced back up at her, at Lucy, and she knew those were tears in his lashes.
“Thank you, MacLean.”
Her heart fluttered, and she hoped her blush didn’t show too clearly, but the praise on his lips was intoxicating. He hadn’t known Janey was down here, but rushed in to save her, regardless. The wound on her side burned, and she flinched as she pressed a hand into it, wincing as she pulled it away and found it stained with blood.
His eyes followed, intense, and then flicked back up to her own.
“I’m fine, boss, I’m-“
He cut her off with a glance, and stood, throwing her arm over her shoulder. This close he smelt like aftershave and coffee, like a hard days work, like the job she loved so much.
With one hand in his daughters small grasp, and the other around her, warm and firm, he kept her on her feet.
“Not giving up on keeping you alive quite yet, Lucy. Let’s go.”