Universe: ATF
Main Characters: Buck, Ezra, Chris
Disclaimer: Don't own them but wish I did. Not making money off of this, wish I could.
Warning: Rated R contains sexual situations and rape scene If you are under 18 years of age, please do not read any further!
Thanks to all those who wrote in this universe before me, especially Sue Kelley. I hope I didn't step on any toes. Thank you Mog for this playpen. Marla and Katy, you've been great, thanks for the encouragement! Comments are appreciated but I barely got up the nerve to submit this one so please, no flames.
Chris reached for the phone again and angrily punched the redial button. One more time, he heard the phone on the other end ring four times. He hung up. He had already left four messages. There was no sense in leaving any more.
'God dammit Buck!', he thought to himself. He had been looking forward to today, to spending time alone with his oldest friend. From the time they met in the academy until the day that Sarah and Adam had died, Buck had spent Sunday with him. It was their time to kick back, drink a few beers, laugh at Adam's antics, and watch NFL football. Sarah had understood their guy time. Chris even thought that Adam had somehow realized that Daddy and Uncle Buck didn't have time for him on this day. All the questions that poured from his young mouth for six days a week, suddenly seemed to vanish on Sunday. He would often crawl up into Buck's lap and watch his daddy relax for eight hours or so. It was rare when Adam saw his daddy relaxed, having fun, cutting up. So on Sundays, Adam would sit in his favorite chair, Buck's lap, and watch the show, soaking up the camaraderie like a sponge.
When Chris approved J.D.'s vacation time, he had told himself that this would be the Sunday that the old camaraderie would be reborn. He couldn't even remember the last time the two of them had been alone together. His silent vigils at Buck's hospital bed, waiting to see if Buck would live or die, didn't count. When he had recruited Buck as the first member of his ATF team, Chris had decided that Buck deserved better from his friend than he had been given for the three years after the murders. There had been times, during those three years, when Chris had been absolutely brutal on Buck, physically and emotionally. There had been many times when Chris had awoken from a falling down shit faced drunken night, to find Buck waiting for him in the living room, his face battered and swollen. Chris would look at his friend and know that the damage had not been done by strangers but by him. Neither of them ever said a word on those occasions. No accusation was leveled, no apology was offered, no explanation given. Chris had hoped that today, while watching Sunday football with his "brother", he would find the courage to open up and tell Buck just what the altruistic friend had meant to him during those dark years. He had really wanted this day to be the day they cleared the air, and put all the grief and heartbreak on the back burner where it belonged. But Buck hadn't shown, hadn't even had the courtesy to call and explain why he couldn't come. Anger was taking over, replacing the deep well of emotions that Chris had been dipping into recently. Bitterness and resentment started to burn inside him, for these were the emotions that Chris was so good at.
"Sometimes I really hate you, you big son of a bitch!" Chris shouted as he stormed out of the house, heading towards the barn. He just knew that Buck had blown him off for some broad who, a month from now, would mean nothing to the notorious Lothario. Buck was probably still on his "hot date" from Friday night. The irate leader of Team 7 strode angrily down the aisle of the barn to his gelding's stall. He jerked it open and threw the saddle onto Diablo's back. The horse shook his head and pawed the ground in protest of the rough treatment. "Sorry, boy. You don't deserve that." He led the horse outside and mounted up. 'Maybe I should give Buck one last chance,' he thought as he was about to ride into the foothills surrounding his ranch. He reached into his pocket and flipped open the phone. He punched in Buck's number and listened to the impotent ringing. "Damn you to hell, Buck!"
Casey drove the big pick up southward on Interstate 15. They were just fifty miles out of Las Vegas and she was looking forward to just walking around and seeing all the spectacular hotels and attractions she had heard about from her friend, Rhonda. She looked over at the man who held her heart and frowned. She had been looking forward to getting away with J.D. for months now. They had carefully planned just where they wanted to go, what sights they wanted to see, the whole itinerary. What she looked forward to the most, however, was having J.D. to herself for nine glorious days. No Buck, no Team 7, no work. And what was he doing while she drove? He was trying to get in touch with his "big brother" Buck. He was getting frustrated because he hadn't been able to reach him all day. J.D. had even tried calling Chris's ranch to see if Buck was there but nobody answered. 'Well, damn, he would just have to try late tonight.' He snapped the cell phone closed and looked at his girl.
"What? I haven't done anything!"
Lucas unlocked the door to the basement room and entered, flicking the light switch on as he did so. The one lone bulb gave off enough light to see everything in the room, which wasn't much. A small table stood right by the door, a pitcher of water and a tray of food sitting on it. The food had barely been touched but the water in the pitcher was half gone. A portable toilet was in the far corner, closed up and unused. The only other piece of furniture was a single mattress against the wall opposite the door.
What caught Lucas's attention, however, was the man who lay curled into a tight ball on the mattress. He faced the wall, his bare back to Lucas. Lucas stood, not moving a muscle, listening to the man whimper. He smiled broadly as he slowly made his way over to the prone man. He had practiced this speech for two months now and he was very interested to see how the man would respond. He sat on the edge of the mattress and laid his hand gently on the man's shoulder. He cleared his throat and began to speak.
"Hey, Pard, it's Chris. We finally found you, Buck, and nothing bad is going to happen to you anymore. We're taking you home, buddy."
Buck rolled over and reached out a tentative hand to the man talking to him. His mind was focused on the burning pain that consumed his body. His vision was blurred and he couldn't make out the face but the voice was that of his friend, Chris Larabee.
"Chris?" he hesitantly whispered, a croaking sound that came from a dry mouth and aching throat.
"Yeah, it's me, Buck. We finally tracked you down. Does it hurt much? Did he hurt ya bad, buddy?"
Buck slowly crawled toward the voice until he was being held in the lap of his oldest friend. He reached up and grabbed his friend's shirt with his right hand. He sobbed with relief. The nightmare was coming to an end, his "family" had arrived to take him home. He gathered himself and plaintively replied, "It burns like hell. I can't take anymore. Please, get me out of here and take me home, Chris."
Lucas almost laughed out loud as the man crawled into his lap. He patted Buck's hand that clutched so desperately at his shirt and said, "Easy there, Buck. Ya know, we tried to get J.D. to come back and help us find you, but you know what? He refused. Said you weren't worth it. He was having too much fun with Casey." He paused, letting his words sink into the muddled mind of the man curled tightly in his lap.
"J.D. wouldn't help? No, not J.D., Chris," Suddenly, the pain returned and he had to let go of Chris. He pulled his arms tight around himself and moaned. His face contorted with the new wave of fire. He pulled one arm free and, lifting his hand to his mouth, he bit down hard on his thumb to stop the scream that threatened to escape. He wanted to be brave in front of his fellow teammates.
"Yeah, Buck, I told J.D. you were hurt and we were taking you to the hospital. He didn't care. He's in Las Vegas with Casey. Said he was having too much fun to bother with you. Remember, he had that all planned. You even gave him your truck, Buck. Too bad, he could care less that you need him."
The scoundrel slowly shook his head. "No, J.D. wouldn't do that. He's my friend, Chris." Buck listened to the voice and tried to make sense of what Chris was saying. He couldn't believe that his "little brother" wouldn't want to help him.
The voice became agitated. "Well, it's the truth, whether you want to believe it or not!" Lucas hesitated slightly and then added, "Ya know, Buck, I kinda agree with the kid. I lost my family because of you. Sarah and Adam wouldn't have died if you hadn't kept me out so late that night. What do you think, Pard?"
Buck grimaced at the venom in Chris's voice. "Oh God, I never meant for that to happen, Chris. I didn't want them to die. They were family to me, too."
Forcefully, Lucas snapped, "No, Buck, they were my family, never yours. You were jealous, weren't you? You couldn't stand my being happy. You wanted me all to yourself again, didn't you? You son of a bitch, you hired someone to kill them, didn't you?"
"No, Chris, no, you're wrong, I'd never do that! I loved them. I'd never've hurt either of 'em. Please believe me, Chris! Oh God, I'm so sorry, so sorry!" Buck begged, tears flowing down his cheeks.
"You loved them, huh? Did you screw my wife behind my back? Did ya, Buck ? I suppose now you're gonna tell me that Adam was your son, not mine? Is that what you're tellin' me, Buck ? is it, Buddy?" Lucas screamed at him.
"No Chris, never in a million years would I do that to you. I loved Sarah like a sister, nothin' else. Please believe me, Chris!"
"How am I supposed to believe that now. You son of a bitch, I got no use for you anymore. I got Vin now. And ya know, I ain't got any desire ta help you out of this mess ya got yourself in. You're just a goddam, home wrecker, hittin' on any piece of ass that comes your way. I'm sick and tired of your bull shit, Buck. You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out! I got better things ta do with my time." Lucas stood abruptly and Buck's head hit the floor. He was laughing as he walked out of the room.
Tears fell from Buck's eyes as he reached out to the retreating form. "Chris, don't leave me! Oh God, please don't leave me." The pain in Buck's heart overshadowed the pain caused by the drug coursing through his veins. He lay on the cold cement floor and cried until sleep finally claimed him.
Vin Tanner walked into the large room that he and the other five members of Larabee's team shared. It held six desks, in groups of twos. The walls were covered with filing cabinets and maps. A chalk board was covering the far wall. Two men sat at their desks, drinking freshly brewed coffee and telling each other about their weekend activities. Both looked up and smiled at the sharpshooter.
"Good morning, Brother Vin. Nice of you to join us this fine morning." Josiah hesitated, looking behind Vin. "Weren't you supposed to pick up Brother Buck?" Josiah stood and went to get a cup of coffee for the young Texan.
"Stopped by his loft but nobody was home. Figured he musta got a ride with Chris. Where is the boss man this mornin'?" He nodded his thanks as Josiah handed him the steaming hot liquid.
"Meetings all day. Guess ol' Buck figured while the cat's away, he was gonna play. Musta took the day off. Probably called Chris and told him his plans." Nathan Jackson looked up at Vin and added, "Thought I might take a long lunch hour myself."
Josiah chuckled and said, "I've got a lot of snitches to look up today. I'll probably be gone most of the afternoon."
Vin shook his head, a sly smile on his face. "Now, you guys know that Chris and I are like this." He wrapped two fingers together. "Ya know I'm gonna report ya three. I notice Ez ain't here yet either. I s'pose he's interrogatin' some witness, right?"
"Ah hell, Brother Vin, you know Ezra's still in bed. That boy don't see the light of day until at least ten. Nothing unusual for Ezra to be missin'. I was lookin' forward to the Monday morning hot sex report from Buck though. At my age, that's about all I got to look forward to." Josiah sighed and the other two laughed.
Vin sat down at his desk and reached for the phone. He tried Buck's home phone and then his cell phone. No answer. Something was nagging at the back of his mind but he ignored it. Nathan was probably right. Buck was probably playing hooky for the day, knowing that Chris was going to be gone all day. The Texan was interested to know how their Sunday had gone. He hoped it had turned out to be all that Chris had hoped for. He smiled as he sipped his coffee. He would love to see the two old friends renew their close relationship, the one that lingered just below the surface. Buck probably made arrangements with Chris yesterday to take today off. 'Yeah, that's what happened,' he thought. He walked to the window and looked down on the city of Denver. 'If that's why Buck wasn't home, why does it feel so wrong?'
Casey sat on the bed. She was about to do something she shouldn't but for the sake of her sanity, she proceeded. She picked up the offending piece of technology and stuffed it deep into the inner pocket of her suitcase. She nodded slightly to herself and placed her emergency supply of tampons on top it. He would never touch the tampons to see what might be underneath. She hated his cell phone and for the rest of the trip, it was going to remain off and hidden from him. He belonged to her this week and that was that. Satisfied, she lay back on the bed and listened to her man sing "Born to be Wild" in the shower. He had a terrible voice!
"Honey, what would you like to do today?" J.D. asked as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in a towel. He peeked at Casey around the door frame.
"I'd like to go hiking in the mountains and then have a quiet lunch at that little restaurant that's way up the mountain. Rhonda said it's beautiful up there right now." She giggled as the young man dropped his towel and crawled back into bed with her. "Lunch I can do." He kissed her hungrily.
Lucas sat in the exam room and waited patiently for Dr. Frank Matheson to arrive from his laboratory. He was studying the broken human being in the next room. After all the planning and scheming he had done, in actuality, the process of breaking Buck Wilmington had been so easy. He smiled to himself. Larabee would soon be dying right along with Wilmington if he wasn't already. In his hand he held a syringe which contained a remarkable red liquid. BMH, that's what Matheson called it. He flicked the syringe with his other hand and watched the liquid move sluggishly around the glass tube. He would make millions with this little drug. It would outsell his best automatic rifle. And it was giving him immense satisfaction right now. He had underestimated that severity of the drug. He didn't think even Dr. Matheson was aware of just how potent his little creation was. It totally incapacitated the recipient for eight to ten hours, and then for six more hours it remained the cause of intense sporadic pain.
Lucas thought back on how he had come into the ownership of BMH. He was still in prison when he had received a phone call from his best friend and ally, Congressman Daniel Tomlinson. Dan knew about Lucas's desire for revenge. They had talked about it often. Dan had been working to get Lucas out of prison since the day he entered the facility. He had to proceed cautiously but finally, he got the ear of the governor, and he had secured the early release of one Lucas Beddlington. But before Lucas got out, Daniel had called him to update him on release probabilities.
"Lucas, you still interested in finding the perfect tool for your plan?" Daniel began. "Because, I have just come into some information that might interest you. Our committee funds research for the CIA and FBI. We got a quarterly report from a research lab and the investigators are shutting down one of the scientist's programs, stating the product was "inhumane". Can you imagine that, not humane enough for a CIA prisoner? Probably some rag head terrorist who's trying to kill thousands and we're worried about a drug being inhumane. Anyway, the scientist got himself fired for arguing with the head of the lab. He's angry and feeling a tad bit abused."
"I talked to him on the phone and asked him discreetly about his drug. He still needs to refine it a bit but, he says he can make it in liquid or powder form, the liquid being the more potent. Without danger of killing the subject, he guarantees that with two or three doses, the hardest nose marine will be crying like a baby, willing to do anything to get you to stop. I asked if he could show me a demonstration and yesterday, I went to meet Dr. Frank Matheson. What a little dork but he's a cruel genius, Luc. He had picked up some bum off the street and used him for a guinea pig. The stuff had him trying to turn his skin inside out. I guess it feels like you're on fire from the inside out. I was convinced and I immediately thought of you. I gave the good doctor your number and he's going to get in touch with you. It's just the ticket for your little plan, Lucas."
"If it's that good, Dan, get the man on a plane to Denver tonight. I'll have Chico start looking for a building to house his lab. Tell him to call me about a salary. I owe ya big for this one, Dan, if it's everything you say it is."
Lucas hired Dr. Matheson the next day and told him to work diligently on that one drug. If he could perfect it in four months, Lucas would pay him a bonus of five hundred thousand. Five days after he was released from prison, Frank Matheson had given Lucas and Chico a demonstration of the power of BMH. Both men had been greatly impressed and Lucas wrote out a check for the full amount to Frank Matheson.
"Sorry, I was held up in traffic. How is he doing today, Mr. Beddlington?" Frank Matheson shook hands with his employer and noticed the syringe in Lucas's hand.
"Chico reported he didn't sit up until ten this morning, Frank. Sixteen hours! You want to make a wager on today's dosage?"
"No thanks," Frank chuckled. "I'm so glad you are pleased with the results we are getting with the BMH. You said on the phone last night that he seemed to be having trouble seeing. I had never considered that little side effect. The BMH probably causes the blood vessels to leak and blurs the vision. With four or five more doses, permanent blindness would likely occur. Does that upset you, sir?"
Lucas howled with laughter. When he finally caught his breath, he said, "Hell no! Frank, your a fuckin' genius. The blindness is just a little perk of the game. What do you say, Frank? Let's go give our boy his next injection." He stood to follow Dr. Matheson to the secure room adjacent to the exam room. "You might be interested in my side experiment, Frank. I'm turning him against his best friends with a little psychology and mimicry. I like to call them my "fireside chats". He seems particularly susceptible to them from ten to twelve hours after the injection. I'll let you know how that proceeds."
They unlocked the door to Buck's private hell and walked over to where Buck sat huddled in the corner. His vision was so blurred he could barely see them, he could just make out two figures coming towards him. He was shivering almost constantly now, being locked in the basement room with no clothes and no furniture to get himself off the cold floor. He had trouble catching his breath and the pain, although diminished for the mean time, still fogged his mind. He trembled, watching the two men get closer and closer to him. He knew what they were about to do. He also knew that this would be his last chance at escape. He knew by tomorrow, he would be too weak to overpower them and after last night, he knew his friends, his 'brothers', would not be coming to take him away from this hellhole. He gathered himself, trying to get his limbs to move quickly. The weasly little man knelt beside him before Lucas did. Buck sprang, knocking the scientist sideways, into his boss. Both of them tumbled to the ground and Buck ran for the door. He was through it and half way down the hall when a roadblock appeared at the other end. Buck ran full tilt into the Hispanic giant. They went down, and with a strength that only comes with pure panic, Buck hit the bodyguard three times in the face. Blood gushed from his nose, but Chico was definitely not out of the picture. He grabbed Buck's ankle as the big ATF agent tried to continue his mad dash for freedom. Buck went down hard, the last of his air escaping his lungs. He tried to scramble back up on his feet but the muscles in his legs wouldn't cooperate. Chico, though, was quick to his feet, and he grabbed both of Buck's arms and hauled him up. He half dragged Buck back into his prison cell where Lucas waited patiently.
"That was very stupid on your part, Officer Wilmington. I'm afraid you'll have to be taught a small lesson." With that, he nodded at Chico, who proceeded to smash his fist into Buck's face. Three, four, five, six times. The ATF agent's head lolled on his shoulders. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and nose. A large cut had been opened just above his right eye. Chico dropped him onto the floor and Lucas knelt down beside him.
"Does that hurt, Officer?" Lucas smiled right in his face. "Here, I'll make it feel better." He raised the syringe and plunged it into Buck's thigh. Buck screamed as the fire raced up through his groin to settle in his chest.
"He won't try that again. He shot his wad today, Chico. By tomorrow, he'll be too weak to get up and piss in the toilet. Meet me here at ten tonight, I want to have another chat with my good buddy. Come along, Frank, I think the cook is preparing trout for lunch." Lucas walked out of the room, wiping his hands on a silk handkerchief.
Ring! Ring!
Vin picked up the telephone in his tiny apartment. "Tanner."
"Hey, cowboy, what ya doin'?" Chris sounded tired and angry.
"Just about to make me a sandwich. How'd the meetin's go?" Vin started to put the bread away.
"What a bunch of bull. The agency accountant whined all day, the Judge was cranky with a bad head cold, so basically, the four of us wasted our time. Want to go for a quick bite and a drink?"
"Sure. How was your weekend?" Vin was aware of the plans that Chris had made with Buck for yesterday. Chris had briefly explained that he wanted to set some things straight between he and Bucklin on Sunday and he had asked Vin to not come out to the ranch that day. Vin had been only too happy to comply. He wanted to see the old friends patch up their differences as much as anybody. When he joined the team, he had immediately hit it off with Chris. Buck, without a word, had stepped back into the shadows and had turned his attentions to the kid. But Vin could feel the emotions that ran between his boss and the senior investigator. He watched the by-play between them. Josiah, Nathan, Ezra, and himself had talked about the complexities of emotions between the two men. For some strange reason, that none of the other five could fathom, Chris always expected the worst from Buck. If something went wrong, Buck was his first suspect. Vin had seen Chris tear into Buck, slamming him against walls, into furniture. He had even seen him rain blows down upon his body when Buck in no way deserved the punishment. The others rarely stepped in between the two men, however. What could they do if Buck was willing to put up with the abuse? Buck rarely fought back, rarely stood up for himself. He just seemed to accept the punishment. It pissed J.D. off but Buck always told him to mind his own business.
On the other hand, Chris showed more emotion for his old friend than for even Vin. They had all seen the other side of the friendship. They had seen the two share a drink and talk quietly, sadly, about their sorrow over Sarah's death. They had seen Chris sitting for three days straight by Buck's bedside, clutching his hand, holding him close to keep him from drifting into death's grip. The history between the two was greater than any of the others had with anyone in their lives and the emotions were so strong that even Josiah couldn't explain them, and he was a damn good profiler. So if Chris wanted to bury a few hatchets with Buck, Vin was all for it.
"It sucked, Vin. He never showed. Didn't even have the decency to call." Chris had never sounded more bitter.
That nagging feeling from the morning came back to Vin and this time, it could not be ignored. Buck had never shown up at work today. He had never called and Vin had never gotten an answer, even on Buck's cell phone. All of a sudden he knew that the team's world had been struck by lightening. "Chris, meet me at the office!" He hung up, not allowing Chris any questions. He quickly dialed Ezra's number.
"Hello," Ezra Standish drawled on the other end. He had shown his face at work about eleven in the morning, but that was normal for the undercover agent.
"Ez, it's Vin. Meet me at the office, ASAP." Again he hung up. Twice more he made curt, officious calls and then he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Why didn't he think of this sooner. Oh God, please let him be wrong.
Vin was the last one to arrive and the others turned to stare at him, questions on all of their faces. They had gathered in Chris's office, trying to figure out what could possibly be bothering Vin that he would call them all in after hours. He stood in the doorway of the office, took a deep breath, and said, "We got a big problem, boys."
"What are you talking about, Vin? I ask ya to go to dinner with me and suddenly, we're on a case!" Chris glared at the young sharpshooter.
Cautiously, he asked, "Chris, when did you last talk to Buck?"
Chris felt a tingle go up his spine. "Friday evening, about seven thirty."
"Did any of you talk to him after that?" Vin scanned the faces of the other three men.
The others shook their heads, understanding blossoming in them all.
"Chris, Buck may be slightly irresponsible, but he loves you and if you asked him to come out for a Sunday with just you, come hell or high water, he'd be there. You may not agree but it's a fact. He never showed for work today either. I went to pick him up this morning and no one was home. He never called and he never answered his cell all day. Somebody got him!"
"Probably Friday night. Oh shit, why didn't we see it this morning?" Josiah was stunned.
"That's three days, gentlemen. The percentages of locating him have decreased dramatically. Are you positive about this, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra stood up and moved beside the black paramedic.
"It's the only thing that makes sense, Ezra." Vin turned to their leader. Chris's face had gone ash white. Tears brimmed his eyes. "He would never have stood you up, Cowboy, unless he had no choice."
"Nooo," Chris whispered. "Noooo!"
The five men arrived at Buck's condo. With trepidation, they waited while Chris fumbled with his key. When Buck first bought the condo, he had proudly handed Chris the key to his "home" and told him family should have access. Now, Chris could barely make his hands cooperate. Visions of Buck laying dead on the floor inside were prevalent in all of their minds. They all held their breath as the door finally opened.
The first thing Josiah noticed was the smell. Iron. The odor of blood filled his nostrils. He reached out an arm to stop Chris just as Ezra stepped in front of their leader. Vin and Nathan quickly scanned the living room and kitchen and then raced up the stairs to Buck's loft bedroom.
"Oh my God," Nathan stammered. He took a step backwards.
Vin didn't say a word but slowly made his way around the bed, avoiding it like the plague. He looked in the bathroom. "More in here, Nate."
They both heard the three others coming quickly up the stairs and by the time they turned, it was too late to stop Chris. All five men stared at the large king size bed. The blankets and top sheet were laying on the floor. Pillows were tossed everywhere. The light blue fitted sheet was covered with blood. Dark brownish stains were smeared from the head board to the foot of the bed. Blood stained the pillows and the carpet. It was splattered on the walls. For what seemed hours, the five men just stood and stared at the horrific sight before them.
Finally, pulling his vision away from the stains that demanded undivided attention, Nathan moved into the bathroom. Vin was right, there was more. Blood was smeared on the counter by the sink. It was on the floor leading into the separate lavatory. The door was closed and Nathan silently moved to open the door. He breathed a sigh of relief as he looked inside. No body. Also no more blood. He turned back to see Chris standing in the middle of the bathroom, watching him.
He shook his head. "He's not here."
"We didn't check anything when we first came in. Josiah, Ezra, search the downstairs. Nate, start combing through things up here. Vin, you better call Denver PD." Chris's tone was flat, dead sounding. Nothing could have shaken him more than finding the scene of a murder but no body. Buck had vanished, probably murdered in his own bed, and the traumatized agent had no clue where to start with the investigation. He simply spoke out of habit and years of calling the shots.
Josiah and Ezra went down the stairs and painfully searched every nook and cranny, hoping not to find their friend but needing to find some clue as to his disappearance. The downstairs was completely devoid of any evidence that a crime had taken place. Nothing had been disturbed, everything seemed to be in place. The only thing that Ezra noticed was that the place looked a bit neater than normal.
The five friends met in the kitchen to compare notes and wait for the police. No one had said more than a few words since they had arrived. They were all in shock, especially Chris. Nathan made a mental note to keep an eye on their leader. Heaven only knew in which direction he would head.
"There appears to be a disturbing lack of any evidence. What happened here?" Ezra was baffled.
Vin looked up, seemingly startled. "It's obvious, isn't it?"
"Not to me." Ezra looked at his fellow agent and decided he should explain. "Most criminals who commit murder do one of two things. They leave immediately, leaving the body, or they clean up everything. They do not leave blood and take the body! That is IF a murder occurred here. We don't know that to be a certainty by any means. Furthermore, there was not a trace of blood on the telephone or the stairs, nothing downstairs at all. This whole state of affairs, my fellow agents, reeks of denizens of the deep."
Josiah shook his head, "Please Ezra, not today. What do you mean?"
Ezra studied his shoes briefly. His word game had become his persona and today he was sorry. He cleared his throat and quietly said, "Something smells fishy."
Vin didn't say a word but his mind was racing. Why would someone want to make it look like a horrible crime scene when perhaps it wasn't? Someone with a grudge against Chris and Buck? If it was done to upset the whole team and perhaps destroy their leader, the perpetrator had done a good job. But what had they done to Buck? Had someone tried to kill him? Or did the person behind this foul act just want them to think that Buck had been murdered? The amount of blood upstairs would lead him to the conclusion that the wounds had been severe and numerous. Had Buck survived them and thus had been kidnapped? It was all speculation at this point. They needed evidence, something to sink their teeth into.
They all collected their focus when the knock on the door sounded. Nathan opened the door and showed the officers in. He identified himself and the others, showing the officers his badge.
"The crime scene is upstairs. Follow me." Nathan led the two officers up to the loft. Ezra and Josiah also went back up.
Chris turned to go upstairs with the others but a hand on his arm stopped him. "Sit for a minute, Cowboy."
Chris looked at Vin but his eyes never focused on the face before him. He didn't fight Vin's hand, which led him to the couch in the living room. He sat down heavily and held his head in his hands.
"We'll call the hospitals," Vin said, sitting beside his best friend. "We'll find him."
"He's not in any fuckin' hospital." Chris flashed signs of anger but despair was pulling him under.
"He's not dead, Chris. Until someone shows me a body, he's not dead! Buck wouldn't die on us! He wouldn't leave you and I! He wouldn't!" Vin stood and started pacing. "You've got to get with us on this, Chris! You can't give up on him. Did he ever give up on you? Well, did he?"
Chris slowly, painfully, raised his eyes to Vin. The sharpshooter stood before him, his hands on his hips, and a close facsimile of the Larabee glare on his face. Chris slowly shook his head. "I thought that he'd blown me off yesterday. I was so pissed at 'im. God, Vin, why didn't I know he needed me? Why didn't I come over here yesterday?"
Vin sank down on his knees in front of the devastated man. He put his hands on Chris's shoulders. "It's just your nature with him, Pard. Anyways, it wouldn't a done any good, you coming here yesterday. By the looks of the blood, it happened Friday night or early Saturday morning. Nothin' ya coulda done by then. Come on, Pard, we'll find him." Vin sat back on his haunches. 'We've got to for his sake,' Vin thought as he studied Chris, who was slumped back against the couch.
Josiah appeared by Vin's side. He motioned with his head for Vin to follow him to the kitchen. When they were alone, Josiah looked back at Chris. "How's he doing?"
Vin shrugged his shoulders. "If we find him dead, Chris'll die with him. There isn't anyone strong enough to pull him out of this, like I did when Sarah died."
Josiah sadly agreed. "It'll be in yours and God's hands to see he survives. Meanwhile, we've got another brother to worry about."
Vin looked at him questioningly. He wasn't seeing anyone but Chris right now.
"I. Someone needs to call him, let him know what's happening. He'll want to be here. I'm not sure where he is but it might take a while for him to get back here. He's got I's truck and we know he and Casey were headed toward Vegas."
Vin sighed and leaned back against the stove. "What're we gonna tell him, Preacher? We don't know anything! Until we get some clue as to what's goin' on, I wouldn't know what to say. Let's just wait 'til tomorrow."
"We can't wait Vin. He's got to be told now. You know the bond between the two of them. The boy would never forgive us if we left him out of this."
"Yah, you're right. Call him."
"God dammit, Casey, what did you do with my phone? I've got to be able to be reached by the guys! They might need me!" J.D. was furious. They had just returned to their room and J.D. had wanted to call Buck, just to check in, he had said.
"You listen to me for once, Mr. Dunne. This is OUR vacation! This is the time you so graciously allotted to me and I WILL NOT share it with Buck, Chris, or any of the others!!! Do you understand? If you touch that phone to call Buck, you might as well catch a plane back to Denver, 'cause I will go on without you. They do not need you! Buck is a grown man, I think, and he can survive without you for one lousy week! Now, who is it going to be, me or Buck?" She stood directly in front of him, her arms folded across her chest, her chin pointing towards him.
They glared at one another for almost two minutes before I realized that she was more stubborn than he was, and Buck always said he was the second most stubborn man he had ever known. J.D. took a step backwards and capitulated. "I never knew that you resented my work, Casey."
"I don't resent your work, J.D. It's a fine profession, although a little too dangerous for my liking. Beside, this has nothing to do with your work. This has to do with you and me! Listen to me, Sweetheart. It's just that if we are going to be a couple, then I have to be first, and Buck, second. That's the way it works, J.D. Men and women pair off and friends move back in line. I like Buck, honey, but this is our time. Can't you forget him for the rest of the week? It's only five more days. You'll see him next Sunday, early. Besides, I think that Team 7 can function without you for the rest of the week. They all seem to be adults who know what they are doing. So, no phone calls, okay?"
J.D. kicked at the carpet. Casey had made a good point. Besides, if Buck was on a vacation with a wonderful woman that he adored, he wouldn't be calling J.D. J.D. nodded his agreement.
"You promise, J.D.?"
"Yeah, Case, I promise."
They had all stayed at the office that night, trying desperately to cling to the idea that I was all right and that this was just a big hoax. None of them had succeeded though. Josiah studied the faces of the others. Every one of the men he worked with was sullen, depressed, and terribly frustrated. They stayed because one of their own was missing, but there were absolutely no clues for them to follow up on, nothing for them to do. The condo had not given them a single clue except for the blood. As Ezra had said, something was fishy. The only thing they all agreed on, was that I was missing. Vin was in denial, refusing to even consider that I might be dead. Chris seemed to be positive that I was dead and that it somehow was his fault, although nothing stood out to even remotely suggest that. Nathan, the medical expert of Team 7, kept going over and over the photos of the crime scene, trying to figure out what could have lead to so much blood being shed in the bedroom. Ezra, their undercover expert, whom they normally couldn't get to stop prattling on and on, had not said a word in over six hours. He seemed to be withdrawing from the others, which unfortunately, wasn't unusual. They would all give their right arms to have I come strolling down the hallway right this second, bidding them all a good morning.
'Don't think that way, Josiah. You know that's not going to happen. Someone is screwing with your minds. Someone very good at it with the resources to pull this off. You have to get them off their butts and up doing something, anything!' Josiah thought. "Let's go back to the condo. Maybe we missed something last night. We know he was going on a date with Valerie. I say we start there. How about it, Vin? Ezra?"
"Yeah, that's an idea. Buck's got to have black books with his ladies' names and numbers. No one could remember all those names, let alone numbers. Let's see if we can find her, at least it'll give us a place to start. Come on, Ez, come with us." Vin jumped up, ready to do anything that might be productive.
Ezra nodded and grabbed his coat. He followed the other two toward the elevators. He never looked up and he was dragging his feet. His mind was racing through every case they'd had since he arrived on the scene two years ago. He couldn't come up with anyone that might fit Josiah's extremely sketchy profile.
Nathan looked around at the empty desks. His eyes settled briefly on their youngest member's desk. It was very neat, everything put away and Nathan smiled slightly. Normally, J.D.'s desk was a mess, just as his and Buck's home normally was. J.D. never seemed to put anything away. Nathan had seen Buck filing papers and case folders away for him, probably like he picked up after him in their condo. Buck would have made sure that J.D. had everything put away before he went on vacation or Chris would have been upset with the young agent when he returned. Nathan made a mental note to try calling J.D. again. None of them had been able to reach the kid. He really needed to be told.
Nathan's gaze traveled to and stayed on the desk of the office clown. He knew that somewhere in the drawers of that desk there was a rubber chicken, plastic vomit, and probably a whoopee cushion. Beside the computer terminal sat a picture frame. In the frame was a picture of the seven of them, taken right after an extremely successful raid. They were all standing in front of a pile of automatic weapons. It had been a very proud day for all of them, but especially for Buck, who had orchestrated the bust. On the edge of Buck's desk were his mail boxes, which were overflowing, blending into one another. An ATF baseball cap rested on the corner of the desk. By the telephone, two giant rolodexes sat, one with business contacts, the other with personal contacts. Both were stuffed. On the back of the chair was a bumper sticker that read, IF YOU'RE CLOSE ENOUGH TO READ THIS with a large middle finger sticking up.
Nathan felt tears welling in his eyes. How could Buck possibly be gone? They had just been laughing, teasing each other on Friday afternoon. Nathan remembered Buck almost dragging the kid out the office on Friday, telling him that Casey was waiting. If anything could get Buck moving, it was a woman, even if she wasn't his. And now, it was possibly a woman who had been responsible for his disappearance. Maybe he'd be a little more selective after this. Nathan turned back to his computer screen and let the tears fall unheeded down his face.
The telephone on Chris Larabee's desk had rung four times before he found the desire to answer it. He seemed to be in a dense gray fog where nothing made sense. There was nothing ahead of him, nothing behind him. All the world was the same color, texture, scent. He wanted nothing to do with any of it. He just wanted to curl into a ball and make it all go away. Irritated, he reached for the receiver and picked it up.
"Larabee." Chris's voice was flat, emotionless.
"Hey Chris, it's Jerry Dunbar." Captain Gerald Dunbar of the Denver Police Department had gone to the academy with both I and Chris. Both of them had always liked Jerry. He was a straight arrow with brains. He now was the head of major crimes and had taken a personal interest in this case.
"I was going to call you, Jerry. Three of my men are headed over to the condo to go through I's black books, try to locate this woman he went out with Friday. We can't come up with anything else."
"Sounds all right to me. I'll radio the guys watching the place. Chris, I've got some interesting news that I think will make you feel a little better. The lab report came back on the blood you guys found. It's not Buck's blood! In fact, it's not human blood at all. It's horse blood, like in the Godfather."
"What?"
"Horse blood, when he found the head in his bed, remember?"
"It's not Buck's blood?"
"Yeah, it's not Buck's. That's good news, right?"
"Why would anyone do that, Jerry? Why would someone go to all that bother to make us think that Buck is dead? Where in the blue blazes is he?"
"That I don't know, Chris. That's the bad news, I'm afraid. There are no other clues as far as we can tell. We combed through it all last night and then I had the techs go over it again this morning. I know nobody disappears into thin air but that's all we've got so far. Sorry, Chris."
"What you did come up with is something, I guess. Keep digging, Jerry. Somebody had to see something!"
"Will do, Chris. Let me know if I can help your guys at all. Keep your fingers crossed, Sarge." Jerry hung up.
Chris made his way out into the bullpen. He sat down heavily beside the tall black man, the solitary figure in the room. He slumped noticeably in the chair.
"It was horse's blood," he softly exclaimed, still not believing it.
Nathan was stunned. "Horse's blood? What the hell was horse's blood doing spread all over Buck's bedroom?" Nathan stopped. He looked at their leader. "Chris, that means that Buck's probably all right. He wasn't hurt like we thought."
"It doesn't mean that at all, Nate. It just means he wasn't wounded in the condo. He's still gone, and in order to hold onto I, he'd have to be hurt, hog tied, and gagged, Š or dead. If it was the woman, she would've had to have killed him or he'd have talked his way free by now. He can smooth talk any lady I know, except maybe Inez." Chris sat forward, his head in his hands. "The last time I talked to him, Nate, he didn't sound right. He sounded, I don't know, bummed out I guess. Do you think maybe he didn't want to come out to the ranch Sunday and he just didn't know how to say no?"
Nathan studied the man sitting beside him and wondered, 'How could our leader be so smart about detective work and yet be so dense when it came to Buck' He hesitated because he wanted to state his thoughts just right. He took a deep breath and answered, "I think that he was thrilled that you asked him out to spend a day with just you. Do you have any idea just how much that man loves you, Chris? Do you know to what lengths he would go for you?"
Chris looked up at him silently. He studied Nathan's face and then shook his head.
Nathan sighed. "He loves you so much, he's willing to step aside and let you have your time with Vin. He loves you so much that when you need to vent your anger, when you need to strike someone, which is how you deal with life, Chris, he's willing to be your punching bag. He knows that's what you need to survive right now. You need him to be your foil, when you're angry, he's calm, when you're serious, he's the clown. And you know what, Chris, right now, he needs you to do the same for him. He's defenseless, you be strong. He's lost, you find him. That's what brothers do, right?"
"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Nate. There's just one problem with that scenario. He's always been there to get me through times like this. I need his strength, Nathan, I need his guidance. Without him, I'm not sure I know what to do."
"Close your eyes and listen to him, Chris. He'll tell you what he thinks. He's there in your mind, in your heart. Just listen."
Chris gulped, took a ragged breath, nodded slightly at Nathan and went back into his office. He closed the door and had a conversation with his oldest, wisest, companion.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue
Feedback to Author