by Mary Head
When he stepped into the house, everything was still as chaotic as it had been the night before, though perhaps even more so in the aftermath of the crime scene unit’s thorough evidence collection. He stood there for a moment, his chest growing tighter and tighter until he realized he couldn’t handle being here right now, and dropped his bag to the floor as he spun on his heel, striding from the house and yanking the door shut behind him.
◊◊◊
Chris blew out a breath as he settled in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk and raking his fingers through his hair. Times like this made him wish he had his own office, but at least his cubicle was near the back of the central office, and after the altercation with David, everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth at the moment.
Hannah’s file sat on the desk, just beyond Chris’s elbows, and he stared at it, his fists clenched on either side of his head. It was thin so far, and Chris had only barely flipped through it, his eyes skimming the notes from the interviews the detectives had conducted with David, Hannah’s best friend Madison, and Hannah’s professor Dr. McKenzie, before he’d gotten the call that Pratt wanted to speak to David about Hannah. The crime scene photos had been emailed to him, though he hadn’t yet looked at those, and the lab results likely wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.
Chris took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and sat back in his chair, letting his hands fall into his lap. In his six years with the FBI, he’d never led a case before, at least not officially, but never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined that his first case would have anything to do with Hannah. He’d wanted to lead a case for so long, but right now, he felt overwhelmed and aimless, not quite sure where to start.
A soft tap on the side of his cubicle made him look up to see Juliet smiling down at him.
“Thought I’d come help you put together Hannah’s missing person poster.”
“Oh, right,” Chris muttered as he sat up. “I need to do that.”
A short, humorless laugh slipped out, and Juliet rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before dragging a chair over to sit beside him. Together, they listed all of Hannah’s physical characteristics: blonde hair, hazel eyes, 5’6”, 120 pounds, birthmark on right hip, and hummingbird tattoo on lower left abdomen. Chris couldn’t help raising his eyebrows at that last one, murmuring that he never knew she had a tattoo.
“Well, it’s not really in a place that you would’ve seen it,” Juliet replied, nudging him with a smirk.
Next, they went through the pictures of Hannah they had on their personal phones, choosing three good ones and sending them to Chris’s work email so he could include them in the poster. Once they were satisfied with it, he sent it off to the printer, and then sat back in his seat with a heavy sigh.
“We’ll find her,” Juliet assured him as she rested her hand on his arm.
“I hope so,” he murmured. “I don’t have the first idea of what to do.”
“You’ll figure it out. Once you get into your stride, you’ll do fine. And hey, it’s not just you, right? Pick your team, and they’ll be right there with you.”
“My team,” Chris said thoughtfully. “You, Eli, Tony, and then Agents Martinez, Reynolds, Sikes, Marshall, Cho, Stevens, and Jacobs. I’ll start there for now, and if I need more, I’ll add them.”
Juliet nodded, and Chris reached for his personal cell phone, tapping out a text message to Hannah’s friend Madison, whom Chris was acquainted with. Her reply came through after just a few seconds, and Chris slid his phone into his pocket.
“Okay, I’m gonna go get the posters, and then head down to meet Madison to give her some to put up around campus and the bookstore where she works. So, let’s say –” Chris glanced at his watch. “In an hour, I want a meeting in conference room A. Look at what we have, and figure out our game plan.”
Juliet nodded. “I’ll tell the others.”
“Great, thanks, Juliet.”
◊◊◊
David spent a few hours running useless errands, doing anything he could think of to put off going home and facing the cold, empty house. The grocery store was his last stop, when he couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, and when he arrived home, he carried the bags through to the kitchen, looking straight ahead to avoid seeing the mess.
It wasn’t until he was putting the groceries away that he realized everything he’d bought was everything Hannah liked, except the two six-packs of beer which he shoved to the back of the refrigerator. He stared at the jar of strawberry preserves in his hand, and then took a breath, setting the jar on the shelf before snapping the refrigerator door shut and stepping over to the counter.
As he pulled his tie loose, his gaze fell on the fingerprint dust smeared across the granite countertop. His eyes traveled to the wooden floor, staring at the muddy footprints that tracked a path between the kitchen and the front door, and he knew that just on the other side of the counter was the trail of blood and the shattered remnants of the window in the back door. He slowly slipped his tie from his neck, wrapping it around his hand as he stared at the dusting of powder on the counter.
A moment later he had discarded his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, and was rummaging around under the sink for the bottle of floor cleaner. It was clear that he had been the last one to mop the floors, because if it had been Hannah, he would’ve found the cleaner within a second of opening the cabinet door. The thought of how she would’ve chastised him for the jumbled mess under the sink sent a pain shooting through his chest.
When he finally found the floor cleaner, he set it on the counter, and then headed down the back hall to the laundry room for the broom, mop, and bucket.
Chapter 15
Hannah looked up as she heard the basement door close, expecting Jackie and seeing Eddie instead. He frowned, seeming irritated at finding her alone, and muttered something under his breath that Hannah couldn’t hear as he descended the stairs. She stared at him, her hands tense at her sides. She still had no idea why she was here, why these two men had taken her from her home, but maybe now was her chance to find out.
“What do you want?” she asked as Eddie stepped towards her.
Eddie didn’t give Hannah the same vibe that Jackie did. Jackie was easy to read and seemed reluctant to even be in the same room with her without making sure it was okay, but Eddie put her on edge and his mere presence made her feel uneasy, her heart beating harder as he drew near.
“What do I want?” he echoed, shoes scuffing against the cement floor as he moved.
“Why am I here?”
He was quiet a moment, seeming to consider her question.
“You’re here,” he said finally, “because I want you here. You don’t really need to concern yourself with the details.”
“Is this about money? Are you after some kind of ransom?”
Eddie gave a short, barking laugh and shook his head. “I don’t give a shit about money. Like you’d be worth much anyway.”
Hannah ignored this, knowing he was just trying to get her riled. “My dad is looking for me.”
“Oh, is he?” Eddie muttered, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“He works for the FBI, and he’ll have his whole team of agents trying to find me –”
“Your dad,” Eddie spat, “couldn’t find his own ass with both hands and a map.”
Hannah stared at him, her eyes widening with sudden clarity. “You know my dad.”
Eddie threw a look in Hannah’s direction. “Let’s say we’ve met.” He was pacing now, a slow path back and forth in front of her. “I know who you are too,” he added, looking up at her again. “Hannah.” His lip curled slightly. “That’s a pretty name.”
Hannah’s breath hitched in her chest, a chill sweeping through her as a memory exploded in her mind. She had been leaving her afternoon class, walking down the empty hall and attempting to juggle her binder and textbook in one hand as she tried to tug a stapled report from her bag with the oth
er. The binder and book slipped from her hands, tumbling to the floor and scattering her notes across the linoleum. She had sighed as she dropped to her knees to pick them up, and then a moment later someone else had knelt as well. She glanced up at the man in front of her, noticing his gaze on the papers in his hands before he looked at her, pale blue eyes meeting hers as he extended the papers towards her. He was dressed in faded, paint-speckled jeans with a worn spot on one knee that was threatening to become a hole, a dingy white t-shirt with a long sleeved flannel shirt open over it, and heavy work boots. She had assumed he was with the construction crew working on the building renovations.
Hannah, he had murmured, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. That’s a pretty name.
There had been something about him that made her feel a little uneasy, but she had smiled and thanked him, shoving her notes back into her binder as they both straightened. She started to step around him, but he moved at the same time as she did and she nearly ran into him. He stared at her, his gaze sharp, and her uneasiness increased, her heart beginning to beat faster as her gaze flicked to the stairwell door, a little further down the hall. She was trying to decide if she could get past him when there were footsteps behind her and she turned, relief surging through her when she saw Dr. McKenzie approaching, a frown on his face. He stopped beside her, looking first at the man and then at her, and asked if she was all right. She nodded and her professor took a gentle hold of her arm, steering her towards the stairs and leaving the other man standing alone in the hall.
That had been two months ago.
Hannah took a breath, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest, not wanting to let him see he had affected her. “Is – is that what this is? Is this some kind of petty revenge thing against my dad?”
“Shut up.”
“What did he do?”
“He made a mistake,” Eddie snapped, “and ruined my life.”
“My dad’s good at his job,” Hannah said defensively. “He wouldn’t –”
Eddie turned towards her suddenly, his hand shooting out before she could move away and grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of her head, yanking her to him and ignoring her cry of pain.
“Your dad is not as perfect as you think he is.” His hand tightened in her hair as he spoke and she gasped, her nails scratching over his arm as she tried to pull his hand away. His fingers left her hair to grab her hands and he wrenched her arms up behind her back, holding her wrists tightly.
“Let me go,” she said in a low voice as she tried to back away from him. He squeezed her wrists, pressing them tightly together and making her wince before he spun and pushed her backward. She collided with the workbench, the hard edge of the table pressing painfully into her back, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.
“You don’t – this can’t be who you are,” she said, trying not to let her disgust at being trapped between him and the table show on her face. “You don’t really want to hurt me, you’re just – you’re just angry.”
He squeezed her wrists again and she was unable to keep a tiny cry of pain from escaping. He stared down at her, his mouth curving into a vague smirk.
“Don’t use that psychobabble bullshit on me,” he said in a low voice. “You can wave that fancy degree of yours around all you want, but it’s not going to work. I’m too smart for that.”
Hannah opened her mouth to reply, but he pressed himself against her, bringing his face close to hers. She turned away instinctively and could feel his breath on the side of her face, hot and sour. He smelled like stale cigarette smoke, and a wave of nausea swept through her.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” he murmured, taking one hand off her wrists and bringing it to her face. He held her chin in his large hand, his fingers digging into her jaw as he forced her to look at him. “Maybe you just haven’t learned your place yet. Maybe somebody just needs to break you.”
A shiver ran down her spine as his eyes flicked downward. She could feel his gaze raking over her body, and when his eyes returned to her face, the corner of his mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile, she stared straight back at him.
“If you ever come near me, I’ll kick you so hard you’ll pee blood for a week.”
Eddie laughed, a sound that made Hannah’s blood run cold, and moved his face closer to hers. His hand moved from her jaw to the side of her head, burying his fingers in her hair again and gripping it tightly when she tried to turn her face away.
“You can’t fight back if you’re unconscious,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “You won’t even know what happened until it’s all over.”
Hannah’s mouth fell open in the softest of gasps and tears stung her eyes, revulsion swelling within her, so strong she thought she might throw up.
“My dad – my dad will find me,” she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice, knowing that she was trying to threaten Eddie just as much as she was trying to reassure herself.
“The only thing your dad will find is your body with a bullet in that pretty little head of yours,” he hissed. “Maybe then he’ll understand.”
His hand moved from her hair to her neck, and once again she could feel his breath on her skin; a moment later his lips pressed against her temple and she jerked away, gasping again when his fingers bit into her shoulder.
“Eddie?”
Eddie looked up, his hand sliding from Hannah’s shoulder, and Hannah dared a glance at Jackie, who was standing on the stairs, a glass of water in his hand and a confused, wary look on his face.
Eddie released Hannah’s wrists and pushed away from her, making her stumble to the side. She tried to catch herself but the pressure on her heel sent a sharp current of pain up her leg, and she fell to the floor, landing hard on her backside and knocking her head against the wooden leg of the workbench. Her tears spilled over, sliding down her cheeks, and she stared at the floor, wishing Eddie would hurry up and leave, and hoping he couldn’t see that she was crying or how much she was trembling.
Finally, he stepped away, and she flinched a second later when there was a slapping noise, followed by the sound of glass shattering on the floor.
“I told you to lock the door if you left her alone,” Eddie hissed.
“I was just –” Jackie began, sounding bewildered.
“Don’t do it again. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Jackie murmured.
Hannah glanced up in time to meet Eddie’s gaze once more before he stormed from the basement, slamming the door behind him.
Silence descended, and after a minute, Hannah looked at Jackie. His mouth was open like he wanted to speak, but then he closed it, lowering his gaze to the floor. He turned and hurried up the stairs, cautiously opening the door and sticking his head out before disappearing, returning a moment later with a broom in one hand and a towel in the other. He cleaned up the mess on the floor, taking the time to lift up her mattress and give it a shake, just in case there were any shards of glass clinging to the fabric. He disappeared yet again to take the things back upstairs and returned to help Hannah over to the mattress.
Once she was settled, he stood still a moment, mouth open again as though he wanted to say something, but he hesitated, and then murmured, “I’ll get you some more water.”
Chapter 16
The floors were clean and the countertops gleamed, every last trace of glass, dirt, blood, and fingerprint powder scrubbed, swept, and mopped up. The last thing he had done was take Hannah’s things up to her room, and it had taken every ounce of restraint he had to not stay up there the rest of the night.
David tugged open the refrigerator and reached for a beer, swinging the door shut as he turned away. He twisted the top off the bottle and tossed it onto the counter with a metallic rattle, taking a sip as he leaned against the counter. He lifted his gaze to the refrigerator door and stared at the picture stuck there with a magnet, his fingers tightening around the bottle. Hannah was 12 in the picture, sta
nding behind him on a raised concrete flower planter with her arms around his neck, the two of them grinning broadly as Cinderella’s castle loomed in the background.
It was from their last trip to Disney World; David had taken her that year for her birthday, and he remembered how overjoyed she had been when he told her that was her present. As a result of Hannah’s persistent hints that he hadn’t taken a proper vacation in years, and after several months of careful saving on both of their parts, they were going again in August. She’d put up the picture as a reminder.
His eyes shifted to the message board and he felt a pain in his heart as he stared at the top half, which Hannah had decorated with Mickey Mouse ears and the EPCOT ball and Cinderella’s castle, drawn and colored with dry erase markers. There was a space in the center of the bright illustration, in which Hannah was keeping a countdown to their trip.
The lower half of the message board was reserved for random notes and lists, and then at the very bottom was where he and Hannah wrote messages to each other.
He’d written one the previous morning, after she left for school.
Getting excited for the cherry blossoms?
She had erased it at some point yesterday, replacing it with a message of her own.
Favorite day of the year. (And no, you still can’t see my dress, but I bet you’ll love it.)
She had drawn a little heart at the end of the message, and he stared at it, his hand squeezing the neck of his beer bottle as he raised it to his lips. He took another sip, and then another, until his head was tipped back, chugging the rest of the beer until the last few drops fell on his tongue.
He lowered the now empty bottle and pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping Hannah’s name and lifting the phone to his ear.
There was a beat of silence and then a soft click as her voicemail picked up. He closed his eyes as the sound of her voice washed over him, and he didn’t try to fight the sudden tightness in his throat.