It all happened so quickly Cal was left in a daze. He was vaguely aware of bursting out the door and into the street and nearly colliding with a car as he raced through an intersection a few blocks away. He knew Rose wasn't behind him, but he kept running anyway, sure the best thing was to keep going. It took him two hours to find a public phone, but it only took Amanda ten minutes to have a car find him. He stumbled into the house, stomach growling, thinking of nothing but scrubbing his skin raw. Amanda met him at the door, hysterical in her relief. He collapsed into a chair as she busied herself giving orders to the staff. A bowl of steaming soup was placed before him and a spoon slipped into his hand. Slowly, he began to eat.
*****
Jack paced the length of the lobby. He kept his head down and his hands buried in his pockets. The cop at the desk watched him carefully, sure he would leap at him if given the chance. They both turned as Amanda rushed in from the back. Her red-rimmed eyes were the only indication anything was amiss. She held out her hands to him. "Jack, I'm sorry you had to wait—"
"Where is she?"
"Jack, we need to talk for a moment—"
He tried to move past her. "Where is she?" he asked again.
Amanda took hold of his arms. "Jack, there is something I have to tell you," she said pleadingly.
"You have to tell me where she is!" Desperation thickened his voice. Amanda gave his hands a light pat. The look in her eyes tied a new knot in his stomach. "Amanda, don't you say it." He bit the ends off his words. "Don't."
"She's all right." She tried her best to sound reassuring. "She's fine."
"If she's fine, why am I talking to you and not her?"
*****
Cal's heart skipped a beat when Jack kicked open the door to the interview room. He jumped out of his chair, knocking it over. He held up a hand. "Dawson—"
"You left her?" Jack yelled angrily. The detective taking Cal's statement, a tall, lanky man with thinning straw-colored hair and watery eyes, slammed his hand against the table and ordered Jack out of the room, words which would have been ignored had they been heard. Blood pounded in Jack's ears, His hands shook. "You left her?" he asked again, his voice soft with disbelief.
Cal found his voice. "It isn't how you're making it sound. I didn't choose to—"
"Did you go back when you realized she wasn't with you?" Cal hesitated. "Did you?" Jack thundered.
"No!" Cal cried. "Is that what you want to hear? I knew she wasn't there, and I kept running. I never looked back." An ache filled the space behind his eyes. Guilt and frustration formed a cloud around his head. "What was I supposed to do?" he demanded.
"How can you even ask that?" Jack yelled. "Don't you care?" He shook his head. "No. You don't. I already know."
*****
The burst of adrenaline fueling Rose's desperate bid for freedom failed her just steps from the front door. Her knees buckled. She pitched forward, reaching for the doorknob and missing it by mere inches. Her palms broke her fall. Shaking, she tried to climb to her feet. "Cal?" she called, not expecting an answer. Drained, she sank to the floor as Lloyd burst into the room.
The next few hours passed like a hazy dream. She felt herself being carried to another part of the house and then dropped. She kicked Brian in the chest when he tried to tie her hands. His slap wasn't a surprise, but how little she felt it was. Her skin burned. Her head swam. The three men's voices sounded muted.
"What are we going to do with her?" Martin asked.
Brian rubbed his chest sullenly. "Whatever we do, we have to decide quick," he said.
Lloyd drummed his fingers on the dusty table. "It just depends on how valuable she is," he said.
"She's not Hockley's wife," Brian said. "How valuable can she be?"
"I still don't understand how we got the wrong girl," Martin said. He turned to Brian. "You saw the photo Dex gave us. It was her!"
Brian shrugged. "I think it was her. I've never seen either of 'em. It was a snapshot of a girl with curly hair," he said.
"His wife doesn't have curly hair," Lloyd said. "In fact, they don't really look anything alike." He snorted. "I think you two just got too excited about grabbing a girl."
"We did not!" Martin insisted. "It was that girl in the picture."
*****
"Where's the other detective?"
Harry Stroud ignored Cal's question and sat down opposite him. "So, Mr. Hockley, I understand you were involved in a kidnapping," he said. "Do you think you could tell me what happened?"
"Where's the other one?" Cal asked again.
"Oh, you mean Detective Mathews? His shift just ended. I'll be handling the rest of your interview," Harry said pleasantly. He flipped open a notebook. "So, if I'm understanding my colleague's notes correctly, you already reported that you escaped from your captors. Is that correct?"
"That's correct," Cal said. "I managed to get away. Rose—she was with me. I told that Mathews about her—"
"Ah, yes, I see here where you told him there was a woman with you. Do you know why she was there?"
"No." Cal eyed Harry curiously. There was something familiar about him, but he couldn't figure out what. "I'm sorry," he said. "But have we met before?"
Harry laughed. "Oh, I very much doubt that. I don't think we run in the same circles."
*****
"Uh-huh." Harry nodded. "That's about it, then?" he asked.
"Yes," Cal replied. "I suppose that's everything."
Harry nodded again. "Well, thank you for taking the time to make a report. I'm confident we can—"
"You're going to go after her, right?"
"What?" Harry's surprise was obvious.
"You heard me," Cal said. He stared into Harry's face. "Are you going after her?" It was the way he shifted his head that Cal recognized most, the way he tried to avoid meeting Cal's gaze. It was an annoying trait.
"Well, it's procedure in situations like this to follow-up the victim's statement with an investigation. We have to make sure you weren't mistaken or lying, not that you are. I doubt a man like you has the time to invent abduction stories, but all the same we have to follow the standard procedure. You understand." Harry smiled, revealing a left incisor with a chip that perfectly matched a small scar on Cal's knuckles.
Cal stood up. "I understand," he said. "I think I understand perfectly."
*****
"Dawson! Dawson!"
Jack ignored the calls. He leaned against the railing and stared down at the churning ocean. Cal was out of breath when he reached him. "Have you gone deaf?" he demanded. "Didn't you hear me yelling your name like a madman?"
"I'm not sure what you and I could possibly have to talk about."
"I don't like you."
"Thanks for stating the obvious," Jack said disgustedly. "Look, do you actually want something?"
"I came to talk about Rose."
"Don't say her name. Just…just go. I don't want to hear about how you realized what an awful person you are for leaving her behind, how now you understand what an asshole you are for saving yourself without thinking of what would happen to her."
"You think you know everything, don't you?" Cal asked indignantly.
Jack's voice dripped with sarcasm."Is this where you make a speech about how all of my impressions of you are wrong? Are you gonna tell me all about how you're not really a bad guy, you just never learned to care about anyone but yourself? It's not your fault? Well, I don't give a damn."
"You call me arrogant," Cal said with a trace of amusement. "Well, I suppose I'll go, then. Clearly you don't care that I know where Rose is, or that—"
Jack's heart skipped a beat. "How could I be so stupid?"