Treading Softly
By Purple Lacey
Part Twelve
It was a weary and depressed Chris Larabee that bid a quick goodnight to the officer dropping him off at Roger Dawson's apartment and entered into the sumptuous lobby of the building after the long and fruitless questioning of Margo McCain. Originally Josiah and JD had joined him at the local lockup for the ordeal, but hours ago he had sent them, despite their passionate protests, to the apartment to rest and grab a meal. He hadn't seen the sense in making them all suffer needlessly. As for himself, he couldn't leave while there was the slightest chance of a break in the case.
After his emotional outburst earlier in the day, Chris had ordered Ezra off the premises. Buck, Nathan, and Vin had virtually manhandled the out of control Standish from McCain's house while Chris had reluctantly taken the business card for Fred Stanton from his shirt pocket and used his cell phone to accept the offer of the apartment that was made earlier that day by Dawson's associate.
Larabee had watched the SUV drive away with four of his friends and had to push back his own fear and worry. He knew he didn't have time for it right now. The clock was ticking and Alexander was slipping away from them with every second that passed.
Thanks to the woman's very high-priced attorney, they had come out of the hours-long interrogation with no more than they had begun with and no closer to finding Alexander. Chris knew the supposed babysitter couldn't have afforded such first-rate legal counsel on her own. He couldn't help but wonder who was actually footing the bill. Whoever it was scared their prisoner more than they did, because none of the police officers or federal agents had managed to get her to name her boss or tell them what she had done with Alexander Standish.
Chris pushed the button to summon the building's elevator for the trip to the penthouse and the doors immediately opened with a soft, chiming ping. He stepped inside and leaned back against one of the walnut paneled walls of the elevator car and gave a tired sigh.
Why was it that when he wanted an elevator to come it always took forever, but the one time he wouldn't have minded the delay it was right there? He really was not looking forward to walking into that borrowed apartment and having to tell his anguished agent that he had no news to give him about his missing son. The lack of information definitely wouldn't help the state of mind of the man Chris had watched slowly unravel ever since the phone call this morning that had turned all their worlds upside down.
God, he thought running a hand through his short blond hair wearily, was it only this morning that they were sitting in Ezra's apartment laughing and joking about how a new baby would completely change their undercover agent's life? It felt so damn much longer.
Truth be told, Ezra was not the only one Larabee dreaded facing, either. He knew his whole team was hanging on the edge by their fingernails over this. It didn't matter that none of them had even laid eyes on the newborn child yet. He was Ezra's, and Ezra was theirs ipso facto Alexander was theirs as well. His abduction left a bleeding hole in their little family.
Walking into that room and watching the hope he knew he would see in six sets of eyes fade when he had to admit they had nothing to go on would be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do. And it made him mad as hell that he had to do it. He wanted nothing more than five minutes alone with that bitch McCain. He would wrap his hands around her throat and throttle Alexander's whereabouts from her, and he would enjoy it. Anyone who stooped low enough to buy and sell children deserved far worse in his book.
That the woman who had broken the law with such blatant and unrepentant disregard for it was able to use it now as a shield to hide behind absolutely infuriated him. After he had finally lost his handle on his anger and thrown a chair across the interrogation room during another round of no-answers from her attorney, Deputy Thompson had ordered him out and refused to let him back in. Glaring with so much frustration and pent up fury that even the uniformed cops watching with him had backed away and given him space, Chris had watched the interrogation for another hour from the observation room before he had admitted the pointlessness of continuing to stay and caught a ride to Dawson's building.
The elevator glided to a stop and the doors slid open. Larabee drew in a deep breath and let it go before straightening away from the wall and stepping out. He took a moment to look at a few apartment numbers to see in which direction Rodger Dawson's apartment was liable to be, then started down the hall. He turned a corner in the long hall way and his steps slowed as he found his long-haired sharpshooter leaning beside a door watching his approach with hooded eyes.
“Why aren't you inside?” Chris asked as he came along side the other man and stopped.
Vin shrugged and replied, “I was out on the balcony and saw a patrol unit drop off somebody. I figured it was you. Thought I'd come see if you had any news.”
The two stared at each other for a moment, and the younger man had no trouble reading the older one's face.
“She didn't give anything up, did she?” Vin's remark was more of a statement than a question.
“No,” Larabee ground out.
Vin nodded solemnly, never taking his eyes from his team leader and friend. “After Josiah and JD came back and told us how it was going, I didn't reckon she would.”
Larabee stood with his back against the wall and let his head fall back wearily until it rested on the expensive wallpaper. His hands were clinched into fists as he battled his fierce need to punch something, anything, to relieve his frustration. The men remained silent for a few minutes: Chris slumped against the wall staring at the ceiling, Vin staring at him.
“How's Ezra doing?” Chris finally broke the silence.
“Hard to say,” Vin replied with a shrug. “He ain't hardly said two words since we got here. He just took that blanket he found and hunted down the laundry room.”
Chris jerked his head around to stare at his friend in surprise. “He still has the blanket? They didn't confiscate it for evidence?”
The tiniest of amused grins peeped out on the agent's face as he answered, “One deputy tried. Ezra…he…well, he…growled… at him and stared him down. The deputy decided he needed to be somewhere else in a hurry.” Vin's grin slipped into smirk territory as he continued, “I think he had to go change his pants. I never knew Ezra could give you a run for your money when it comes to scaring the bejesus out of people with just a look.”
Chris shook his head and sighed before asking, “Where is he now?”
“Right where he's been since we got here. He's been standing there staring at the washing machine all afternoon and all evening. He keeps washing that blanket over and over again.
I watched him take it out of the washer after one cycle and inspect it. I didn't see nothing on it at all, but he just shook his head, dumped some soap on it and rubbed a few places together, real easy like, then put it back in to the washer and started it back up.
He stands there holding on to the washing machine until it's done then he takes it out, looks it over, and starts all over again. I've lost count of how many times he's done it so far.”
“Damn,” Chris swore. “Did he at least eat something?”
A negative shake of the head was the response his question received and then, “Buck and Nathan tried, but Ezra just stared at them for awhile then turned away. Josiah tried again later when he got back but got the same results.”
“God, I hate this!” Larabee snapped and his head rebounded slightly as it made forcible contact with the wall. “The only good news we've had so far is we heard from Aleman that they caught Janie Baldwin. She's spilling her guts about everything she knows. She's willing to turn State’s evidence on McCain in exchange for a deal.
The bad news is she doesn't know anything about what happened to Alexander after she left him at McCain's house. We're at a friggin' dead end. Without any leads to tell us which direction to go from here, we're screwed!”
As much as he would have liked to deny it, Vin knew Larabee was right.
“JD's been bent over his computer all evening trying to come up with something, but hasn't found anything yet. I took off for a little while this afternoon,” Vin informed him softly. “I checked with a few people I knew from my bounty hunting days who are usually pretty clued in on what goes down in this town, but no luck.
I also talked with a fella who owes me a favor so he's gonna ask around quietly and see if he can dig up anything on a baby-ring operating in the area. He might know somebody who might know somebody. You know how it goes,” Vin smiled grimly. “It's a long shot, but it's still a shot.”
“It's all we've got right now,” Chris muttered, “And all we're likely to have anytime soon because McCain isn't talking and we're not liable to get anything by that high-priced mouthpiece of hers.”
Vin watched his friend and team leader draw a bracing breath before the man pushed away from the wall. Larabee stood up straight and rolled his shoulders like a knight settling his armor into place before a battle.
“No sense putting off the inevitable,” Chris growled as he turned toward the apartment door and reached for the knob. Vin only noticed the tiny hesitation before the other man twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open because he was watching him so closely.
“I got your back, Cowboy,” Vin offered his support in a soft voice.
Hazel eyes turned to meet blue ones in a moment of silent understanding before Larabee gave a sharp nod and replied, “Something tells me I'm going to need it.”
The two men entered the spacious apartment quietly. The rest of the team, sans Ezra, was gathered in the large open spaced living area that opened off the foyer. JD was seated at a lovely cherrywood desk hunched over his laptop and typing furiously. Buck, and Nathan were seated on the one of the leather couches while Josiah was seating on another couch that faced his friends. The three men were quietly tossing ideas for finding Alexander back and forth hoping against hope to come up with a viable alternative to pursue if McCain didn't break under questioning.
All four sets of eyes arrowed to the leader as he stepped into the room, and Chris' jaw ground in frustration as he watched the realization sink in that he wasn't bearing any news they wanted to hear.
“She's not giving it up,” Chris informed them. “We can scratch her off for providing any leads. We're going to have to come up with our own.”
“I…uh,” JD mumbled and he hesitated a moment as he became the center of attention, “I might have something.”
“Let's hear it,” Chris shot back as he and Vin found their own seats.
“They found a cell phone at McCain's,” The young agent said looking a little uncomfortable. “I…umm...They were gonna get the phone records for it in the morning anyway so…” he broke off.
“Spit it out, JD,” Buck said impatiently.
“I hacked into the phone company and downloaded the records,” JD finished in on rushed breath.
“JD!” Chris exploded sending a hot glare at his recalcitrant agent, “I told you I didn't want anything to jeopardize this case at trial!”
“It won't!” JD hurried to assure his boss, “Like I said, they were gonna get the records tomorrow anyway. I just pulled them up a little early. I got a little jump start is all. I made sure not to leave any tracks in their computer. No one will ever know but us. I swear, Chris!”
“They damn well better not,” Larabee growled. “If she gets off on a technicality I'll wring your neck myself and shoot your corpse full of so many holes we can use you for a sieve.”
“So what did you find kid,” Buck interrupted, eager to hear anything that might bring them closer to finding their missing nephew and not particularly caring how the information was obtained.
“She made a call about ninety minutes after Janie Baldwin’s plane landed to a company called Free Enterprise Resources. I've been trying to dig up more information about them, but haven't come up with much so far. I've got a list of company officers from their incorporation application to the state but that's all so far.”
Chris signed and ran a hand through his hair again before saying, “It's more than we had when I came in. Keep at it, JD. Just make sure if you find anything that you think up a way to explain how we got this information so fast before we pass it along to the locals.”
A cheeky grin broke out on the young agent's face and he threw Larabee a cocky salute.
"Did you eat anything yet?" Nathan asked while looking over Chris’ tired features with a practiced eye.
“Later,” the blond man replied with a straight look at the team medic. “I need to get this over with first.”
No one had to ask what he meant.
“He’s in the laundry room,” Josiah informed him quietly and pointed over his shoulder. “It’s right off the kitchen.”
Larabee nodded in acknowledge and headed in the direction Josiah had indicated. Vin fell into step behind him. A heavy silence descended on the remaining team members as they watched the two men exit the room.
Chris stopped in the doorway of the small room adjoining the bright and cheerful kitchen, Vin half a step behind him, and stood for a moment watching his undercover agent. Standish was leaning on the white enameled washing machine, knuckles made white from the fierce grip he maintained on the appliance. For one instant Larabee found it hard to reconcile the man who usually stood tall and proud, forever hiding his pain from the world, with the one that stood in front of him with head bent low and shoulders hunched as if under an enormous weight. Chris’s heart ached for his grieving agent. He understood only too well the hell his brother-in-arms was going through. He cursed the fate that was making him add to the man’s pain.
As if sensing his presence, Ezra suddenly straightened to his full height, although he still maintained his grip on the washer and kept his back to the door. The agent took a deep breath as if to brace himself and then said, “Since our colleagues are suspiciously quiet at the moment I can only assume you are bearing ill tidings, Mr. Larabee.”
”I’m sorry, Ezra. We couldn’t get anything out of her. She lawyered-up and refused to give up anything.”
“Perhaps, it would be best if I had a word with the…lady,” Ezra suggested harshly.
“Even if the sheriff would allow it, which he won’t, her lawyer wouldn’t stand for it,” Larabee told him. “They even threw me out after a while. We can write her off as far as helping us goes.”
“So that’s it, is it?” Ezra spun around to face his superior with clenched fists. “The end of the line? No leads. No where to go now so we’re done. We just drop it and go home?”
“No! You know that’s not true. Nobody said we were giving up,” Chris ground out angrily. “That lead didn’t pan out so we look for another one, and if that one doesn’t work we find another and another. We’re not giving up, EZ. We don’t give up until Alexander is home.”
Standish took one hitched breath and brought his hands up to cover his face. A visible shudder racked the man and Chris left the doorway to go to his suffering friend and lay his hands on Ezra’s shoulders.
“We’re not giving up on him, Ezra. Don’t give up on us,” the blond told him gently
“Yeah, Ez,” Vin stated as he moved into the room to join the pair, “If we have to take this town apart brick by brick we’ll find him.”
Ezra’s head fell forward until it rested on his leader’s chest. Chris slid his hands from Ezra’s shoulders around to his back, tightening his arms around the trembling agent to pull him closer, offering what little comfort he could give. He could feel the moisture slipping through the man’s fingers begin to soak into the front of his shirt as with a soul-deep sob, Ezra began to weep in his arms for the second time that day.