by Aiden Bates
They divided a map of the areas of interest into sections, each one containing a few of the areas that they'd identified in their aerial survey. Then they dug into the past. Elias quickly found that he could lose himself in the rhythm of it all. He'd never been much of a history student, but he loved to see how use of the land had changed. The western edges of Westfield, and beyond, were of particular interest.
Once, Westfield had its own little manufacturing boom going on. The town was still known as "Whip City," because it had been a locus of buggy whip manufacturing and not because it had been some kind of center of some kind of nineteenth century fetish life. They never had enough of a base that they were able to compete with larger cities further south, though, and the manufacturing mostly dried up. A lot of the farmers moved on too, heading farther west at some point in the nineteenth century. Their farms had simply been abandoned. Some of them had been absorbed into other properties, and some had been seized by eminent domain, but others just lay there, waiting.
Narrowing down the properties was difficult work, and it took several days. Someday, Elias wanted a cop show on TV to show this side of police work. It wasn't all car chases and punching racists. No, sometimes it involved hunching over maps for days, and looking into property records. It was boring. It was dry and dusty work, too. And having to do it with his alpha made the work that much harder, because all that he wanted to do was to go crawl into Pat's lap.
"I've got a site here, out between the two forks of Cooks Brook. The nearest cross street would be Northwest Road." He called out to the others. "Aerial images look good for it. It's surrounded by woods, but there's a dirt road here." He pointed to the path on the page as the two troopers loomed over his shoulder. "We should be able to at least go check it out, right?"
Pat checked the map coordinates for the location. "Hmm. It's possible. The location is listed as belonging to Westfield Gas and Electric, but they have a lot of property that mostly just holds pipelines or high voltage wires. It doesn't necessarily mean that she couldn't be hiding out there. I've seen it happen before, I guess."
Ryan nodded. "We can put it on the list to check out, if WG&E will give us permission. Otherwise, we'll need a warrant, and that's going to take some doing." He made a face. "I thought I had a good candidate myself. It was an old farm from the 1600s, it even predates the town of Westfield, but then I cross-referenced it against a big chemical spill that happened maybe fifty years ago. They wouldn't be able to grow crops there."
Elias sighed. "Well, that's one place we don't have to look, I guess."
He and Pat didn't keep things strictly business during that week, of course. They kept their hands to themselves while they were in the office. It took an act of extreme heroism for Elias to do that, but he managed it. After work, they usually stuck together to get dinner someplace local. They didn't go back to either condo; the distances involved were too great.
If Elias expected to have that five-day cooling off period cause any kind of dampening of his ardor for Pat, he found that he was quickly disabused of that notion. His condo seemed bigger with each passing day, and not in the kind of good way that added to his net worth. No, he felt the loneliness like it was a physical thing, an enemy that could only be fought as part of a team.
Was Pat feeling anything like the same thing, or was he off having a good time? No, he wouldn't be carousing. Elias couldn't let himself be suspicious like that. They might not have discussed their long-term future, but he trusted his alpha.
His mother stopped by on Thursday night, uninvited and unannounced. Isabel Salazar was a beautiful woman. She always had been, and she always would be. She spent a lot of money to make sure that this was so, but Elias suspected that even if she ignored the aging process she'd probably still be just as beautiful as she had been the day she stepped off of the plane from Portugal at his father's side.
She kissed Elias on both cheeks. "How are you?" she asked him, and seated herself on the couch like a throne. "Elias, you've been working a case in the area for weeks now, and you only saw family for your niece's christening. We're starting to think you don't love us anymore."
"I'm sorry, Mama." Elias perched gingerly on the love seat. "I suppose it's just the case. I'm not used to being around family when I'm working on one, so it's definitely strange to me to be around now."
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "Are all of your cases this engrossing?"
Nothing got by Isabel. Nothing ever had, and nothing ever would. He rolled his eyes. "Well, they do all involve missing kids, so yes. In this case, though… well, you know how people hoard animals, sometimes?"
"Like your friend Bill's mother, the crazy cat lady." She tossed her chestnut hair over her shoulder. "I remember her."
Elias winced. "Yeah. Exactly like that. Only we try not to say 'crazy' these days, Mama. It's not all that accurate and it's kind of judgy. Anyway, the suspect here is hoarding children. It's going to be an unholy mess when we do find them. I'm a little nervous about it. I don't think that there's a completely happy ending for anyone there." He sighed. "But you do the job that's in front of you."
She smiled, brilliant and vicious. "What you need is a distraction. Come to the house on Saturday night. Join your family for dinner. It's been too long. No kids, just your brothers and your sisters and your parents."
Elias shook his head. "Sorry, Mama. I already have plans this Saturday."
She waved her hand. "What, more work? They're working you too hard. You have the right to see your family on the weekends."
"It's not that, Mama. I… well, I have a date." He swallowed hard. He didn't know if he had a date or not. They hadn't talked about the weekend. The last thing that he wanted, though, was to go and sit through his siblings' parade of accomplishments.
Isabel wrinkled her nose, and then her face fell. "I'm sorry, Elias. You know it can't lead anywhere."
"I know I can't give him children, Mama." Elias almost looked away in shame, but he found that the shame wasn't there. It would have been a reflexive action. Hearing Pat's feelings on the subject had done a lot to take the shame itself out of the memory. "He knows that I can't give him children. He's okay with that."
Isabel's dark eyes narrowed. "Why exactly would it have come up? You can't have been together for more than a few short weeks."
Elias hunched over under his mother's gaze. Then he straightened up. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He was in his thirties, for crying out loud. He was allowed to love who he wanted. "I've actually known this guy for a long time. We just happened to reconnect on this case."
Isabel recoiled, her painted red lip curling with disgust. "Oh, God. It's that little Brazilian toy you were fooling around with in college, isn't it?" She didn't have to wait; she knew Elias too well. "Elias, you're smarter than this. He can't offer you anything. He can't give you pretty children, and you'll be supporting him for the rest of his life. He doesn't have a dime to his name and have you somehow forgotten how he just left you pregnant and alone?"
"He didn't know I was pregnant. He didn't know I miscarried. It's been a long time, and we're working some things out." Elias rolled his shoulders. "He's a good man. And he cares about me. I don't know what the future holds for us, and we might choose not to stay together. But we're enjoying the journey, wherever it takes us."
Isabel regained her composure. Elias knew that his mother would be seething with indignation; she came from one of the most blue-blooded families in Portugal. She'd hated Pat from the moment she'd heard about him. She wouldn't let it show though; not yet. "You know he'll never be allowed in Newport."
Elias chuckled. "I'm pretty sure he can live with that, Mama. I love you anyway."
***
Pat got to work on Friday so full of nervous energy that he couldn't sit still. He squirmed in his seat and fidgeted with his pens. He tapped his foot up and down, and finally he announced that he was going on a Dunkies run just so that he'd be allowed to move.
Much to Pat's surprise
, consternation, and delight, Elias joined him. Elias had a tension in him too. They hadn't been back together long, but Pat knew how to read people. "What's up?" he asked, as Elias settled into the passenger seat of his Honda.
"Nothing. Well, okay. Do we—are we staying together this weekend?" Elias moistened his lips. His breaths were shallow and rapid, but he seemed to be trying to control them.
Pat frowned. "We hadn't talked about it, so I didn't know what you wanted." He smiled, a little shy. "I might have cleaned up a little. Not that you haven't seen the house at its worst, but you know. Hope and all that." He couldn't make himself meet Elias' eyes, but he didn't think that mattered right now.
Elias breathed out an enormous sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."
"Pretty sure he wasn't involved with the choice?" Pat started the car. It was good to know that Elias wanted to be together this weekend, but that was still an unexpected response.
Elias scoffed. "It's just that I was home last night, wondering if we had a plan, and then my mom showed up. She wanted me to go to dinner at the family homestead." Elias grimaced, and Pat sympathized. Family dinners with the Salazar clan could be miserable enough with an ally present. Alone they were brutal. "So, I told her I had a date. And then she figured out that it was with you."
"The woman should have been a cop." He paused for a second to merge into traffic. "Wait. Was she a cop back in Portugal?"
"Nope. Socialite."
"Are you sure?" Pat gripped the wheel. A background in law enforcement, especially back in the seventies, would explain a lot about Isabel Salazar.
"Pretty sure." Elias shook his head, a wry grin on his face. "Anyway, I figured that even if you didn't want to stay together, I'd maybe beg to stay in your guest room or something. Maybe on your sofa."
Pat laughed as all of his muscles released their tension. Maybe he didn't need that coffee after all. "You know, you never have to stay in the guest room. If you want to stay in the guest room, that's your choice. But you don't have to sleep in there. And don't sleep on the couch."
"Really?" Elias screwed up his face.
"I've had it since the Academy. I got it on JP Christmas." Pat squirmed a little as he pulled into the Dunkin Donuts parking lot. "By which I mean I picked it up off the curb on moving day, back when I got the place."
"Hence the slipcovers." Elias did a great job of hiding his revulsion. He only shuddered a little bit. Pat couldn't help but think of those big, designer leather couches at Elias' place.
"Yeah. I mean it ain't exactly the Ritz, but it works." He held the door for Elias.
"I promise never to sleep on the sofa." Elias slipped his hand into Pat's. "Are you emotionally attached to it in some way?"
Pat jumped a little. "Huh? No. I mean it still works and everything. I just wouldn't want you to sleep on something like that."
They took their place in the line. "I'll sleep wherever you sleep, Pat. But I don't think we'd both fit on that couch."
They got coffee for the team, and even though the conversation had veered into uncomfortable territory, Pat felt much less constricted by the time that they got back to the office. "So, we'll go to my place?" he said.
"I packed a bag." Elias bit his lip, adorably. "I mean, I didn't want to make assumptions or anything, but I was hopeful."
Pat laughed. "I packed a bag too, but I won't be sorry to stay in Boston. Maybe next week we can re-visit the smallest state in the Union?"
"Only in geography," Elias told him, in a quarrelsome tone.
Pat grinned even wider, even though his stomach was in knots. "I know we haven't talked about anything beyond the moment. We don't have to," he added, squeezing the wheel as though it could anchor him. "But maybe we could alternate weekends? Because, man, I might love you, but I still think that Rhode Island has no valid reason to exist."
"So, like a standing, thing." Elias licked his lips. "Almost like a commitment."
"Well, I mean it's okay if you don't want to." Pat hurried his words out. He didn't want to pressure Elias. Lord knew he'd been through enough, and it wasn't like Pat was a catch. It wasn't even like Pat was offering anything, really. Just a regular thing. Almost like a commitment.
Almost.
"I want to." Elias reached out and took his hand.
"Really?" Pat resolved to always pretend that he hadn't squeaked there.
"I mean, I don't know what the future holds. I think it would be foolish for either of us to act like we did. But I'm happier when I'm with you." Elias blushed and looked away.
Pat squeezed his hand. He couldn't put his feelings into words. He didn't even understand his feelings right now. "Fantastic," he said instead. "We'll head back down into the city tonight and play it by ear." He smirked. "You've even already got a toothbrush, so that's all set."
Once they were back at headquarters, they were able to start on the hard part of the search. They didn't have the option of just wandering onto private property and kicking down doors. That might fly on television, but in real life any evidence gathered that way would be rendered invalid. Oh, and anyone on site with a gun could probably get away with shooting the "intruder," so there was that. The team had to get warrants before they went out and tried to search for the missing kids.
Ultimately, the request had to come from Ryan. Ryan was the one listed as the lead detective on this case, and he was the ranking officer. That didn't mean that Pat or Elias was going to abandon him to his fate. They helped him craft his warrant requests.
They were about to break for lunch when a call came in from a doctor at Baystate Children's Hospital out in Springfield. Ryan took the call while Pat's heart froze in his chest. Had something gone wrong with little Cátia? When Ryan put the caller on speaker, though, Pat found he could relax on that count at least. "Detectives," the doctor said, in an anxious tone. "We've got a two-year-old from Feeding Hills who just presented with diphtheria. From what you told me, that's something you're looking for?"
"We'll be right out." Ryan got a few details while Pat and Elias packed up for the day. The ride out to Springfield and back alone would eat up the rest of their day.
Pat drove the unmarked car out to Springfield. They didn't use the sirens; Dr. Rees had told them that there were uniformed troopers on the scene to prevent interference and to enforce quarantine. The trip still took an hour and forty-five minutes, thanks to the traditional hang-up at the I-84 interchange, but Pat managed to stay patient.
When they got to the hospital, they headed straight for the isolation unit. The nurse paged Dr. Rees, who introduced himself and insisted that they all wear paper gowns and gloves before being allowed to see the patient. Dr. Rees was a tall, thin man with a long, thin nose and glasses. "I'm not having this get out," he said. "I'm just not having it."
Pat rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that."
Ryan winced. "We were alerted to the case when a body was found—a boy who had died of diphtheria. You should have gotten an alert from the Department of Public Health."
Dr. Rees sighed. "We did. And we're stocked up on the antitoxin, thank God. It's just that if this disease gets out, and becomes an issue for the general population, there won't be enough of the antitoxin for everyone." He rubbed at his face and slipped his gloves on. "Come on, follow me."
Dr. Rees led them into the room where the patient and his mother were resting. The boy looked terrible. He lay on his back in a bed with his head and chest raised, and his little skin had yellow sores that made Pat's skin crawl. His mother held his hand and looked up at the trio as they squeezed into the room. "Can I help you?"
"Mrs. Adams, these are the men from the State Police who I told you about." Dr. Rees followed them in.
Mrs. Adams frowned. "I don't understand. I thought that Noah just had diphtheria. Why are the police involved?"
Pat reached into a folder and pulled out one of the "Wanted" posters. "Ma'am, have you seen this woman? Probably within the two to four days before Noah's symptoms started?"<
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She took the paper. "As a matter of fact, I did." She frowned and tried to pass it back to him, and then remembered herself and put it into the trash barrel. The barrel was lined with a red bag; everything in here would be considered contaminated. "She was in the Target in Holyoke. She stood out, because of the scar here, and because she kept looking at Noah."
Pat exchanged glances with Ryan and Elias. "Did she approach in any way?"
Mrs. Adams shook her head. "No. She scurried off when I caught her and pulled Noah a little closer. A bunch of used tissues fell out of her pocket, too. I don't think that she noticed, and these things happen when you're a mom, but then Noah picked them up." She made a face. "It was kind of disgusting. I opened a box of hand sanitizer and made him use it; the cashier didn't say anything when I paid for it after."
Elias nodded slowly. "That's when he would have gotten it."