S3 BATB 2024 Round Robin

WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE

 

Chapter 1

JessicaRae

 

Along the city streets of New York, rain fell incessantly. Lightning flashed above the empty streets, and assorted leaves and branches hurtled down the sidewalks. Rain gushed along the sides of the roadways, pouring into the drains with a whirlpool effect. The rain made the air heavy with mist, and visibility began to drop. The tops of many tall buildings around Central Park began to disappear in the mist. The rain was relentless, and it was not long before the streets began to fill, and the drains began to disappear in the rising water. 

“This is nice.”

Mary sat in the library, across the chess table from Vincent, a cup of tea in her hands. Vincent sat across from her, a well-worn copy of Hamlet upon his knee. He made a slight noise of agreement, still lost in the world inside the pages he was reading. Mary chuckled.

“Vincent, dear, if you are going to spend the evening with Hamlet, then please share with the rest of the class. Perchance, if Diana was here, you might be a bit more inclined to read to this old lady instead of keeping all of the adventures to yourself?”

That observation drew Vincent out of his reverie, and his fingers stiffened barely perceptibly around the wrinkled pages.  The air thickened around him, and for a moment, he could not think clearly.

The loss of Catherine had been over a decade ago now, Vincent thought to himself. And for a moment, he felt bitterness welling up inside him that he had managed to live that long without her. Diana had found a special place in his heart in those many years, and together, they had raised Jacob, the only remaining gift he had from Catherine. The love he and Diana shared was different, more civilized, expected, and put together. The reckless abandon and gentleness that Catherine brought to their lives was akin to the first breath of spring, the first bloom of summer, the first strawberry turning red. It was precious, miraculous, and left an aching longing in its place for what once was after it was gone. Most of the time, it was easy to remember her sacrifice to save their son and understand the reason for her choices. It was easy to know that she was gone and nothing could ever bring her back.

The fairy tale had ended.

But on some days, the Void beckoned with leering accusations of the fact that he could have saved her had she reached out to him. He could have found her if he had tried and had not gone so nearly mad with grief at her disappearance. Had she not been so selfish towards her son, then perhaps she could have survived.

But no. He could never put the blame on her.

Now, the very idea of reading to anyone, especially Diana, as he had done with Catherine, touched something still raw and sensitive inside him, much like the skin beneath a blister once it started to heal. The warm air against the redness no longer hurts, but pressure brings the pain alive once more.

“You don’t have to,” Mary said softly, laying a hand on the table close to him. “I am sorry, Vincent. I did not mean to hurt you. I should not have said anything.”

“It is all right,” Vincent managed to respond. “I- I think I am done reading for tonight.”

At that moment, Mouse burst into the room, out of breath, and hair wildly tousled.

“Vincent, come, word, on pipes, bad, very bad.”

“What on earth!” Mary’s hand flew to her face as she and Vincent rushed from the library, following Mouse, who ran through the tunnels like a greyhound.

“Quick, must be quick,” Mouse called over his shoulder. “Diana needs help!”

Vincent’s mad dash slowed to a walk, a cold chill washing over him. No. Not again. He couldn’t go through that again. All kinds of terrible things played through his mind as he reached the pipe chamber where Pascal stood, ear pressed against the long pipe that meandered through the room, a hand held up to quiet those already in the pipe chamber. Jamie stood there, Jacob beside her, his small arms wrapped around her waist. When he saw Vincent, he ran to him, exclaiming, “Dad! Diana’s talking to Pascal; she’s in trouble! You got to help her!”

“Shh, shh,” Pascal harshly whispered, turning to frown at his audience and then returning his ear to the pipe, still glaring at those in the room. “A body can’t hear a thing when people talk,” he explained, slightly impatiently, which was rare for the gentle pipe master.

Vincent felt as if a live current of electricity were running through his limbs as he searched the worried faces of Mouse, Pascal, and Jamie, finally looking down at the frightened eyes of his son.

“Dad,” Jacob said softly, looking up at Vincent. “Diana said she was trapped.”

Vincent brushed a hand across his son’s hair, laid the other hand on the small shoulder and steered him toward Mary. The little boy went willingly to her embrace, and Vincent took a step toward Pascal.

The tapping stopped, and Pascal nodded, giving Vincent a half smile. “All right, Vincent, take a breath. She’s trapped, but it’s not life or death. Diana was at the hospital interviewing a patient for a case she was working on, and apparently, it was raining cats and dogs up there, and the water was knee-deep in the street. She just wanted you to know that Peter Alcott and she are both there, and everything is fine for now. They are just staying there until the flooding recedes. She said something about wanting to come down for dinner but that she would stay in touch and let us know when it was safe to come down. Meanwhile, we need to check the tunnels for flooding.”

“Some of the lower tunnels are flooded,” Kipper exclaimed, rushing into the pipe chamber. “Pascal, put out the alarm! Oh, hi, Vincent. Important; the low tunnels down by the underground river are starting to flood. The river is a wicked rushing stream now, cold to see.”

“Mouse wants to see!” Mouse exclaimed.

“Me too,” Jamie added quickly. Jacob ran to Jamie’s side. “Take me with you!”

“Absolutely not,” Vincent replied firmly, his tone warning. “I expressly forbid it.”

“You sound like Father,” Kipper grumbled, kicking a damp shoe at the floor like the ten-year-old he used to be.

“He does, does he?” Father asked curiously, entering the chamber behind Kipper. “That means he speaks the truth for everyone’s safety. Those tunnels are quite flooded, Vincent. We need to call the council together and block them off. Kipper, you may help carry things up from the lower chambers. We have a few members who live lower down in the cooler chambers, and we will move them to the council room for now. We will move our meetings to the library until everything clears. But no one is going into the tunnels below there, understood? I don’t want to hear of any of you being anywhere near the underground river, is that clear?”

The young people muttered their agreement, gazes fixed on the dirt floor. Father sighed and laid a hand on Mouse and Jamie’s shoulders. “I don’t mean to spoil any fun, and you are both capable adults. But those tunnels can become quickly flooded, and you would never get out of them alive. Please obey me and stay away from them.”

“All right,” Jacob replied, drowning out Mouse and Jamie’s second muttered agreement to the terms. “Diana’s being safe, and so should we.”

“Ah yes,” Father nodded, frowning at Vincent. “That is why I came; I heard on the pipes she was trapped. Is she well?”

“Yes,” Vincent replied, nodding. “She and Dr. Alcott are trapped at the hospital. She reported knee-deep water in the streets. Both of them are staying there to help in case they are needed. She was on a case, but I know she is quite capable of helping in a crisis, and it sounds like those people have one.”

“Knee-deep rain,” Mary shook her head, folding her arms. “That has to be an incredible amount of rain.”

“And an incredible amount of flooding,” Father nodded. “Kipper, you and Mouse and Jamie go assemble the men to bring up as much of the lower tunnel’s belongings as we can. Bring up Elizabeth’s paintings as well. That dampness and humidity might ruin some of her work. Put it all in the council room as well.”

“What can I do,” Jacob asked expectantly.

Father glanced up at Vincent.

“How about you go with Mary and help her make cookies to cheer up all of the workers, eh?”

“All right!” Jacob skipped back to Mary and took her hand. “I got an important job!”

“We will head to the kitchen now and begin,” Mary agreed, casting a knowing glance at Father. “Maybe we can even get some cider going.”

Jacob’s happy chatter faded into the distance with Mary, and Father turned to Mouse, Kipper, and Jamie. “Off with you three now, and mind where you go.”

“Yes, Father,” they chorused and hurried away.

“Vincent,” Father said softly, walking toward his son. “Are you well, you looked quite ill a moment ago?”

“I - I was afraid something terrible had happened.”

“To Diana?”

“Yes.”

“Vincent, my son,” Father said nothing else, simply laid a hand on his son’s arm.

“I want to go to her,” Vincent said softly. “Yet, I know she is well. I shall see her later. But why do I feel like I should run to her and forget all else?”

“You distrust your emotions still, Vincent. All these years, and you are still trying to save her.” The older man’s voice trailed off, and he half smiled at his son. “Let’s go, Vincent. We have tunnels that need us. Peter will take care of Diana until she can get to us, or we can get to her. The rain cannot continue forever.”

 

“I have never seen flooding like this.”

Peter Alcott turned from the hospital window on the fourth floor and paced, hands on his hips. “I have lived all my life in New York and know most of what there is to know about this place. We just don’t have floods like this. This happens on the coast when a hurricane blows through.”

“Peter, pacing won’t help. Now, sit down and get some rest. There’s coffee in the break room.”

Diana glanced up at the elderly doctor and smiled, then returned to her case file.

“The world is washing away, and you are still working,” Peter sighed, sitting down across from her. “If we float away, my dear, there will be no need for cases.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, chewing on the end of her pencil. “But I sure am going to keep trying until we float into the sea, or I find an answer in this file, whichever comes first.”

Peter harumphed and steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the tabletop. “Since we are stuck here together, why don’t you tell me about what you are working on?”

“Eh, it’s not a secret, really,” she replied, sitting back and waving a hand at the folder. “Darren Warrick and Timothy Gardner are rumored to be in cahoots selling drugs. No one has seen them doing it, yet it’s something everyone knows and repeats to the next guy. Warrick was said to be the tough brains of the operation; Gardner was supposedly the legs. Separate from each other, no threat, but put them together, and they have 36 years of military training between them and a 9-millimeter that is missing from the scene of the murder of a cop who tried to apprehend them during a traffic stop and paid for his loyalty to safe streets by taking a bullet that ended his career. For a while, we lost sight of both men, and our eyes and ears on the street had nothing for us.”

“So, what finally happened?” Peter asked, propping his chin in his palm, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Well, from what we can tell, Warrick must have made a misstep somehow during an exchange with our undercover. Got all bragging and boastful; said something about more where that came from if only the rats didn’t get to it first or if the ocean didn’t wash it out, and Gardner got mad and just turned around and eliminated him. Then Gardner was left with the distribution job, and according to the word from our eyes on the street, Warrick’s buddies found him by the subway tonight and put a bullet in his chest. He survived but is unconscious in the ICU. They don’t expect him to wake up for a while, and depending on how severe his injuries, if he will even be of any help to us.”

“And why were you hoping to talk to him?” Peter’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head curiously at her.

“Well, I was hoping to have him admit that he shot Warrick because they were dealing drugs, and something went wrong. Confession sort of out of both of them; kill two birds with one stone, you see. But whoever shot Timothy messed with all those plans—and also proved that the ring is bigger than just two guys. I mean, someone must be muscling in to try to eliminate the one person who would have known where everything was stashed. Unless more than one person knows, which means there could be buys going on right now, and we can’t get out and do a single thing about it.”

“Ah, I see.” Peter nodded. “Flooding never stops the devil, now does it? Hmm, so Gardner is the only person who can tell us what happened, except for the mystery man who put him in the hospital and Gardner is in a medical state of silence,?”

“Exactly.” Diana rubbed her face with a tired sigh. “And I was hoping to see Vincent and Jacob tonight, too, so I am particularly mad at Timothy and his mysterious, unnamed, vindictive enemy. Mary was going to make tea and shortbread tonight.”

Peter cast her a kind smile. “I could scrounge up some tea from the break room, my dear, although it will not be as nice as Mary’s. Say, how is it going between you and Vincent? I know little Jacob adores the ground you both walk on.”

Diana blushed and leaned back in her chair, gazing up at the ceiling. “Honestly, Peter, I think we are doing as best as we can under the circumstances. I still see it in his eyes sometimes that he misses her. And I am perfectly fine with that. Jacob accepts me as his mother, and Vincent takes care of me like a gentleman ought to, and he is tender and gentle and protective, all good things. I am quite happy. I do not regret that I share his memories with another.”

“No?”

“No. It makes him tender; it is as if there is this conscience in his heart that tells him what to do. He knew her so well. I – I only wish I had gotten a chance to know her as well as he did before she left us.”

“She was some lady,” Peter agreed. “You would have liked her. Both of you had this drive and passion for the criminal underworld and its adventures. You both loved the challenge.”

“I don’t know about love, Peter,” Diana chuckled. “It is work and only that. I am all too happy to put it aside at the end of the day.”

At that moment, the door to the break room slammed open, and a drenched dark-haired man in a tan overcoat stood there, a steel grey 9-millimeter clutched in his shaking hand.

“Where is he? Gardner. One of you, tell me now! Where IS HE!?”

Before Diana and Peter could respond, a shot deafened them all in the little room, and slowly, Peter crumpled and fell to the floor.

 

“Has anyone seen Vincent!” Father strode into the council room, where a cacophony of voices and exclamations filled the air like the cries of seagulls at the pier. “Someone answer me. Has anyone seen Vincent!”

“Here I am, Father,” Vincent spoke quietly, arriving at the older man’s elbow. “Jacob and I have brought up the last of Elizabeth’s paintings. The water is still below those tunnels, but right now, it is uncertain where the final level will be once the rain stops and the streets empty.”

“Dad,” Jacob tugged on his father's cloak. “Dad, what if the flood comes all the way up here.”

“Nonsense, my boy,” Father exclaimed as Vincent knelt and laid his broad hands on the little boy’s shoulders.

“All will be well, Jacob.” Vincent patted the tiny shoulder. “You trust us, don’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” Jacob nodded, but his face was just as morose as before.

“Why don’t you go sit with Mary and listen to her stories? You’ve worked hard enough for now. Some of the other children are there as well.”

“Aw, Dad,” Jacob whimpered. “I want to have Mom here, too.”

“I know,” Vincent replied gently. “Diana will be here when she can. Jamie,” Vincent called as Jamie entered, her face streaked with mud and her hair tousled. She looked around the room for a moment, trying to find the voice that had called her.

“Jamie!” Vincent called again, and she set down the box she was carrying and made her way through the agitated group, rubbing her hands on her clothing.

“Jamie, are you well?” Vincent asked as soon as she reached him. “Your hands are quite worn.”

Jamie glanced down at her red, roughened hands and tucked them behind her. “I’m fine, Vincent. Been down in the lower flooded tunnels with Winslow and Pascal digging a rerouted entrance toward the river. What do you need me for?”

“Take Jacob to Mary. The other children are in the library with her, listening to her tell them stories to keep them occupied.” He turned to Jacob. “Jacob, as soon as I hear Diana has arrived, I will let you know, all right?

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

“All right.”

Jacob took Jamie’s hand, and together, they disappeared into the shadowed tunnels.

At that moment, Pascal rushed into the council room, nearly colliding with Vincent. “Pascal!” Vincent grabbed the man’s shoulder to steady him. “Whatever is the matter?”

Pascal took a few wobbly breaths and squinted up at Vincent, his face one of great trepidation and fear.

“Pascal,” Father exclaimed. “What is it? Out with it, man!”

“It’s Diana,” Pascal managed to say through shaky words. “There - there have been shots fired at the hospital where she is. They think – they think Peter Alcott is dead.”

 

Chapter 2

Mel

 

“What of Diana? Is she well?” Vincent asked, the question leaving his lips before he caught himself. Surely, she must be fine. No one else Above knew the pipe code in order to convey the horrible news of Dr. Alcott. He swallowed. “I apologize; we’ll certainly wish for Peter’s recovery.”

Father managed a brief nod, the shocking news robbing him of speech.

Vincent placed a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulders. Peter Alcott had been a friend of Father’s since they both attended medical school, and he was one of the first Helpers who assisted in creating the haven of the world Below the streets of NYC. If Peter died, then only Father and the street magician, Sabastion, remained from the earliest days to tell stories to the children about how Below came to be.

“Any other news, Pascal?” Vincent asked. His quiet question seemed to shatter the tense and heavy silence that had fallen over the trio.

The pipe master shook his head. “No noth-”

Vincent didn’t hear the last of Pascal’s words as he charged after Jamie and his son. He had calmed himself enough, but then an overriding dread from Jacob through the mystic bond that allowed father and son to feel each other’s emotions. As Jacob grew, father and son began to slowly build a wall to allow each a sense of privacy. But Jacob hadn’t been in the room when Pascal had given the news about the hospital. Had something else happened?

He heard Jamie trying to calm Jacob as he approached. The young woman glanced up at his approach, seemingly at a loss. Her own eyes were red and puffy. Had she been crying, too? Before he could inquire, Jacob, for the third time that day, ran into his arms, and Jamie quickly retreated, walking away from the library. 

Vincent knelt on the floor. “Jacob… tell me what troubles you now?”

“Mom… isn’t… safe…” Jacob hiccupped through his sobs. He kept holding his own shoulder. “She’s hurt.”

“She is fine; Pascal just heard from her,” Vincent said, trying to be reassuring. Had Jacob and Jamie overheard the pipe master’s words about Dr. Alcott?

“Really?” Jacob’s eyes widened with a glimmer of hope.

“Yes.”

The boy sniffed and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, still uneasy. Fear and concern fought against the fragile hope his father’s words conjured. “Dad, will Mom be at my birthday?”

Vincent took his son into his arms and stilled. Was that why the memories and regret had been overtaking him lately? Jacob knew the basic details of his birth, how his birth mother, Catherine, had been taken from this world mere hours after she had given birth to him, and how he had been stolen by a madman.

In those months of searching, Vincent had almost let the darkness and sorrow of everything consume him. But then, a red-haired angel entered his life and brought him back from the brink of death. She had also saved little Jacob’s life and, in only a matter of weeks, Father’s as well. It hadn’t taken long for Diana to find that special place in his heart. Not a replacement for what he shared with Catherine, but equally as precious and unique as the woman herself. 

And his Diana was capable of fending for herself and also had the caring heart to take care of others. But that didn’t make her immortal or invincible. Jacob’s words added to the sinking feeling in the pit of Vincent’s stomach. It granted him at times that he and Diana didn’t share the mystic Bond that had once linked him to Catherine and now his young son.

Though as he held his son, he wondered again if Jacob’s own empathic powers also extended at least a little to the mother he knew and loved.

“Dad, I want Mom here,” Jacob said, repeating. “She’s not safe.”

“I know, Jacob. Your Mom… is well trained and knows how to handle herself.” His words felt hollow even to his own ears. Nor could he lie to his son. “I… will go see your mom.”

 

Stupid, stupid, Diana chastised herself. Years of training had taught her how to handle such situations, but luck, it seemed, hadn’t been completely on her side. The gun she normally wore had been in her bag across the room. And worse, her eyes had left the target; instead, she had followed the bullet’s movement for mere seconds as it hit Peter, and it had cost her. The bandage on her right shoulder and the throbbing pain were proof of that. The gunman had managed a second shot before the hospital security had come and subdued him.

“Are you all right, Detective?” the nurse asked, examining her work.

“Yes… I’m fine,” Diana said. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Survivor's guilt, especially when the one lost was a friend, always did. Potential loss: he still has a fighting chance, Diana reminded herself. She hadn’t lied in her last message to Pascal. The doctors had said there was a slim, slim possibility. Though, with each minute that passed, it seemed the possibility grew dimmer.

Her gaze rose to the clock on the wall. An hour and a half had already passed. The longer she was trapped with the nurse, the longer the gunman had to concoct some narrative. Any other time, she would be considered ‘off the case’ as she was a victim, but given that no cops could get through the downpour, any investigation into the gunman was left to her.

“Can I go? I have work I need to do,” Diana said, hopping down from the table. She stumbled and grabbed the table’s edge, a wave of dizziness overtaking her momentarily.

“Of course. Just keep it dry and clean,” the nurse reminded her. 

It’s a flesh wound. Diana’s lips quirked into a tiny smile as she left. She would need to show Vincent and Jacob Mighty Python soon. 

“You were a lucky one.”

Diana paused in the doorway. Lucky? Yes, she supposed she was, though it made her stomach turn for Dr. Alcott. Slowly, she made her way to where the security guards were keeping the gunman. Diana tried to remember the details she could of the man. His drenched overcoat had concealed a lot, but she tried to sketch the man’s image into her mind. She estimated him to be 5 feet and some inches, white, clean-shaven, and roughly late 30s. He seemed about the same age as Gardner and Warrick. Nothing especially stood out.

Still, there had been some more pressing questions since the tragic incident. Her mind had begun to spin. How and why had the gunman come up to the fourth floor before inquiring into the whereabouts of Timothy Gardner? Surely, he could have taken a hostage at the hospital entrance to make his demands. Why wait if it was so important to the gunman?

Unless, could he have been looking for Dr. Alcott and her along with Gardner? Except his chaotic entrance into the breakroom hadn’t shown any sign of recognition.  And if it had been a hit list, the man would have just shot without a word.

Still, the attack in the subway made her wonder if any new intruders had been seen within or around the tunnels, but such a question wouldn’t be wise to ask along the pipes on the off chance the culprits knew pipe code. It had been one of the reasons why she had wanted to go Below for dinner to ask in person. But the freaking rain and now this mess made it impossible.

 She was only thankful that she and Vincent didn’t share a Bond. From what she had gathered over the years, Vincent would run to Catherine’s aid before he was even consciously aware of what he was doing. The last thing she needed in a room full of witnesses was to see him come charging to the rescue.

Diana made to pull her red mane back into a ponytail, grimacing against the pain that shot up her arm. She cursed beneath her breath as she let her arm and hair fall back. It seemed she would need to be more mindful and sadly less ‘put together’ when interrogating the gunman. 

The breakroom had been locked once the doctors had gotten Peter onto a stretcher. Her notes of the case would be fine until she could collect them. Carefully, she turned and walked down to where the security guards were holding the gunman, awaiting her arrival.

She gave a firm knock with her left hand. “Detective Diana Bennett, may I come in?”  

 

Below, Mouse scurried down the tunnel toward the rushing river. He knew it was dangerous, but he only wanted to look at the river. Not to swim, that would be silly. Just looking was good and fine, he told himself. Footsteps behind him gave him pause. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Jamie turning down the opposite way. Curious, Mouse turned and followed. 

“Hey, what you doing, Jamie?” Mouse asked. “River’s back that way.” 

Jamie turned, startled, but collected herself. “I was… just… well, what are you doing? Father said not to go down near the river.”

“I know, just wanted to look, is all. See how much water coming down, really?” Mouse asked. “Never rains this much.”

“That’s why Father and Vincent said no,” Jamie reminded him. 

Mouse lowered his head in defeat. His admiration and love for Vincent overrode any desire to disobey orders. However, his face soon shifted into concern as he looked at his friend. His own hands rose as if inspecting them, though his eyes remained fixed on Jamie. “Your hands okay?”

Jamie tried to stuff her worn hands into her pockets. “Yeah, they are fine, Mouse. I was digging. I told you that.”

“With Winslow?”

“Yes.” Jamie turned to leave, but froze when Mouse spoke again.

“But Winslow gone… died years ago.” His eyebrows bent as if trying to remember. “Went on a mission to rescue Catherine from… evil man… Vincent told me.”

Jamie’s back stiffened even as she gave an indifferent shrug. “So, I misspoke, what of it?”

“You going away a lot lately,” Mouse said. “And you look sick sometimes… puffy eyes like Rolley. Saw Vincent bring him down. Rolley can help.”

Jamie sighed, pulled up her sleeves, and showed him her arms. “See… no needle marks. I’m fine.”

“You’re irritable lately, too,” Mouse said, not letting the subject drop.

Jamie shoved him. “Yeah, 'cause I’m always stuck making sure you’re fine or babysitting Jake.”

“Hey… that hurt, Jamie,” Mouse cried, rubbing his head, confused. Tears rimmed his eyes, but he brushed them away. “I’m sorry… I’ll be good, promise. I babysit Jacob now or sometimes, though he’s not a baby anymore; that help?”

“Okay, good,” Jamie said in a mocking tone. She turned and stormed off, leaving Mouse alone.

 

Vincent watched the downpour from the shelter of Central Park threshold. The light of the streetlamps was little more than pinpricks of orange as the rain and mist continued to worsen. Though it seemed the lightning had at last abated. Though, Vincent himself seemed charged with a restless energy.

He had re-established the blocks of the bond after he made certain Jacob was tucked happily in the kitchen, making more cookies with William and Mary. But it did nothing to quell Vincent’s own anxieties.  It had at least been two hours without any further word from Diana.

If what Jacob sensed was true and Diana had been wounded in some way, then he had to go to her. The timing of the year urged the longing to venture out, but his main desire was to see the woman who now captured his heart and was the mother to his son in every way that mattered, beyond blood.

Could he truly go to her? The pouring rain and the mist offered a safe cover even in the hours of the late afternoon; the knee-high water for ‘regular’ people was different for ‘creatures’ like… well, him. Carefully, he pulled his hood over his face and stepped out into the rain.

“Vincent.”

 

Chapter 3

T'Mara

 

Vincent froze. Had somebody just called his name? Well, called was probably an exaggeration, since what he had heard had been barely more than a whisper. If there had been anything at all, and he had not just imagined it. With the sounds that surrounded him caused by the heavy rain and the wind, it was highly likely that he had been mistaken when he thought he had heard something.

“Vincent!”

This time, there was no doubt. Somebody had called out to him; somebody else must, therefore, be out there in that terrible weather and that somebody knew him.

Vincent looked around. A frustrated sigh escaped him. Because of the dark clouds, the rain, and the mist, it was hard even for him to see anything that was further away than a few feet in any detail. But wait, over there, at the big beech tree, was that only a shadow, or was there a person clinging to the tree trunk?

“Who is there?” Vincent asked hesitantly.

“Vincent, it's me, Susan!”

It took Vincent only a few seconds to reach her. Diana's sister was soaked through and barely holding on to the tree, trying not to be carried away by the water running down the soft incline.

“You need to get inside at once!” Vincent told her, and, deciding that any questions as to what she was doing here in such weather had to wait – as well as his desire to go to Diana – he picked her up and carried her to the tunnel entrance.

Once safely inside the tunnels, he put Susan down. “I will bring you to Mary,” he informed her. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and get warm.” Diana would never forgive him if he let any harm come to her sister.

“I know,” Susan replied. “And thank you for helping me. I had hoped to get there on my own; part wading, part swimming. Just as I have been doing so far, but the closer I came to the entrance the more water there seemed to be, what with the rain never stopping and all the gullies and gutters overflowing...”

Vincent nodded. He understood that Susan would have gotten weaker the longer she had been fighting the onslaught of the elements. What he did not understand, though, was why she had been out there at all.

Susan smiled. “Before you ask...” she began. She had learned to read Vincent well over the past few years and, therefore, sensed his unspoken question.

“When I realized that the rain was not going to stop any time soon, I began to worry about everybody Below,” she explained. “After all, the water could seep into the tunnels, and the underground river is most likely already flooding large areas.”

Vincent nodded. “We have begun evacuating the lower levels,” he confirmed Susan’s suspicion.

“I was planning to offer help,” Susan continued. “With the humidity and the cold caused by this deluge, the tunnels might not be the healthiest place for the elderly and small children. I could accommodate a few at my place. Alex is preparing the guest room and calling our friends among the Helpers to ask if anybody else could take in a few of you.”

“Your help is very much appreciated,” Vincent told her.

“I didn’t want to talk to you through the pipes,” Susan continued, “I thought I might be of use here, packing and such, and also...”

She hesitated. “Diana called. She told me that she was trapped at the hospital because of the weather, and that she was going to convey this message to you as well through the pipes. But of course she knows you well...”

Now Susan smiled. “She feared you might want to go to her at once, which would not exactly be wise, considering the fact that the hospital is a very public, busy place, where you could be spotted by lots of people. She did not downright ask me to stop you from doing that, but I understood her anyway. So, am I mistaken or was she right? You were headed for the hospital when you found me, were you not?”

Vincent sighed. These Bennett women really knew him too well.

“I guess I have to be glad you were on your way to my sister,” Susan continued, “for I doubt I would have made it in here safely without your help.”

Vincent nodded. “When did she call you?” he asked. “Before or after...?” He hesitated.

“Before or after what?” Susan repeated, overcome by a strong foreboding. “What am I missing here?”

“There was a shooting at the hospital,” Vincent explained. “Peter… he might be dead, and Diana… Jacob thinks she may be wounded, though we do not know for sure...”

“Oh my God,” Susan breathed out. “That's why you were trying to reach her! You are worried sick!”

She hugged Vincent.

“I know how you feel,” she told him. “I’m worried too; after all, she is my sister, but I still think you shouldn’t go to the hospital. Since you got this message from her, she cannot be too badly injured, and I am sure she will contact you again whenever she can. Maybe she is just waiting for an update on Dr. Alcott's condition before sending another message. She will also need somebody to tend to her wound, and there might be some paperwork or similar administrative stuff she has to handle before she can get in touch again. In the meantime, your place is here. You must make sure that your people are safe. Every able-bodied man is needed here at the moment to build dams against the water or transport your belongings to where they are safe from the water, and whatever else needs to be organized here. As to the sick and elderly, as well as the small children, we Helpers will hopefully get as many of them as possible out of harm's way.”

By then, they were passing by the pipe-chamber.

Vincent looked in. “Any news, Pascal?” he asked anxiously.

The pipe master shook his head. “Not from Diana,” he clarified. “But several Helpers have asked about the situation in the Tunnels, and most are offering help in case we need to evacuate. Henry and Lin are offering the heavy-duty van that they normally use for shopping at the market. They think it will be maneuverable despite the high water and can be used to transport any valuables we might have to more secure locations.”

Susan smiled. “Alex was about to call them when I left,” she explained, proud of her young daughter's efficiency in mobilizing those that could be of use in this situation.

“The moment Diana gets in touch, I will let you know,” Pascal promised, as Vincent and Susan continued their way to find Mary.

 

Diana entered the room where the hospital security guards were holding the gunman. Now that the crime had been committed, they were suddenly doing their best to make a good impression. The aggressor was handcuffed and tied to a chair.

Too little, too late, Diana thought. How on earth could that man have gotten past all the security cameras, despite carrying a gun?

There was no point in wondering what could have been done to prevent the catastrophe, to avoid Peter's... Diana tried to get the image of his crumpled body out of her mind and to concentrate on the job at hand.

“Let's start with the basics,” she began her interrogation. “Your name, age, address, etc.”

The murderer – well, Diana reminded herself, he would only be a murderer if Peter died – laughed in her face.

“Where’s my lawyer?” he asked. “You don't expect me to say anything without my lawyer present? You can't force me to say one single word!”

“Don't forget, mister, that you are speaking to an eyewitness,” Diana countered. “A lawyer won't be of much help to you since I saw with my own eyes that you shot P... Dr. Alcott, and me. You will, therefore, be charged with criminal assault, maybe even murder, if Dr. Alcott does not survive. Your unwillingness to cooperate is only making things worse for you.”

The captive just laughed. “Playing the tough lady, aren't we?” he taunted her.

After a few more attempts to get some information out of him, Diana had to give up.

When she left the prisoner, one of the hospital's security guards approached her.

“Tom Jenkins,” he introduced himself. “Head Guard. I am sorry for what has happened. We should have caught the man before... It is, of course, no excuse, but most of my men are already working overtime since the relief crew was not able to get here because of the weather.”

Jenkins paused, and as Diana nodded her understanding, he continued.

“Anyway, I have been checking the footage of our surveillance cameras. The... captive... came in about half an hour before the attack. Several people were hanging around in the lobby, passers-by who had sought refuge from the rain. He was blending in with that crowd, obviously trying to remain inconspicuous while trying to find out where to look for Gardner. He must have somehow figured out, overheard maybe, that the ICU is located on the fourth floor. After a while he purposefully walked over to the escalator, like any harmless visitor would, and rode up to the fourth floor. He walked down the hallway, until he heard voices coming from a room. He stood there for a while, apparently listening, then drew his gun and barged in...”

Diana groaned. “I had just told Pe... I mean Dr. Alcott about the case I am working on. He must have heard me mention Timothy Gardner and thus assumed that we knew where he could be found...”

Jenkins nodded. “You are probably right,” he agreed. “That explains why he assaulted the two of you. It still does not explain what he wanted from our patient.”

“I doubt we will find that out anytime soon,” Diana explained. “He is not forthcoming with any information. I do not even know who he is.”

“I am sorry, I cannot help you with this,” Jenkins told her. “We searched his pockets. The only ID he was carrying was a driver's license. A forged one, at that. By the name of Billy Smith. But since the document is a forgery, that's obviously not his real name.”

Diana nodded. Jenkins was probably right. She was exhausted and her shoulder hurt. She was worried about Peter, and she wanted to get in touch with Vincent. She also needed to make a report about the situation.

“Thank you anyway,” she said to Jenkins. “Has there been any word on Dr. Alcott's condition?”

Jenkins shook his head. “As far as I know he is still in surgery,” he explained. “With critical cases that could take a few hours...”

Diana felt frustrated. She could not wait hours until she had more information on Peter before contacting Vincent again. He was probably worried sick about her by now. She had to let him know now that at least she was more or less fine. But how? She could not really ask anybody to leave her alone in a room so that she could tap out a message on the pipes. She had somehow managed to get a short message through during the confusion following the attack when everybody was concentrating on subduing the criminal and tending to Peter and nobody had paid attention to her. But now? How could she reach Vincent now?

She suddenly had an idea. “I need some place quiet to make a few phone calls,” she declared.

Jenkins graciously showed her to his office.

Diana dialed her sister's number. After a few seconds, her niece answered the call.

“Alex!” Diana exclaimed. “May I speak to your mother?”

“I am sorry, Auntie,” Alex replied, “she is out checking if anybody – in the neighborhood - needs help with the water, flooded cellars, and such...”

Diana smiled as she caught the emphasis Alex put on the words “neighborhood” and “cellars”. She knew that Alex wanted to let her know that her mother had gone to check on the people Below but did not want to outright say so in case the phone call was being intercepted by somebody.

“How considerate of her,” Diana told her niece. “I just wanted to let her know that I am safe, but still unable to leave here because of the water. Please promise to relay that message?”

Alex snickered. She understood that Diana wanted a message sent Below – not just because Susan would hopefully be there by now, but because of Vincent.

“I promise, Auntie, just stay safe and let us know when you can leave that hospital,” Alex said, then hung up and started working on a message she would send on the pipes.

Diana sighed. That was the best she could do for now. She just hoped her sister had arrived Below safely and that whatever Alex was going to tap out on the pipes would be enough to stop Vincent from worrying.

A call to Joe Maxwell was next on Diana's to-do list. Fortunately, she was put through to the DA immediately and could thus give him a full report on what had happened.

“We don't even know the shooter's name,” she finished. “He is not cooperative at all. And his driver's license is a forgery.”

“Wait a moment,” Joe interrupted her, “a forged driver's license. That does kind of ring a bell. I have to check my files, but there definitely was something recently regarding forged documents, I do not remember it clearly; I think it was a minor detail in one of our cases, and it could, of course, be a coincidence that we have a forgery here as well, but I will get back to you once I have dug up that information.”

 

Chapter 4

Cecelia Pitts (Cece)

 

Pacing. There were times in Vincent’s life when he believed he was an expert in pacing. Father once told him he paced enough to have walked from the tunnels to California. Pent-up energy needed to go somewhere.  He could not hold back the unusual torrent flowing down Manhattan streets, gutters, and subways. Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

“Pasçal, any messages about Diana?” Vincent’s pacing had brought him to the entrance of the pipe chamber once again.

 Pasçal rapped an inquiry on the silent pipes and received a flurry of signals, all of which Vincent recognized as all clear.  “No, Vincent.  Nothing yet.  I sent Kipper down to the junction beneath the hospital’s basement, just in case.  It’s pretty dry in that area so far, at least underground.”

“Thank you.  I would not have asked.  Kipper has his own family to care for.” Vincent replied.

“He is worried about Diana too.” Pascal replied absently as he responded to a message, tapping rapidly. “Flooding is worse by the river access.  We got everyone out.”

“I’ll find out if Father was listening.  He will be glad to know.” Vincent replied and vanished down the corridor to collide with his son.

“Sorry, Father.  I heard a message on the pipes about Mother, but it was faint.”

Vincent’s eyes glowed warmly. He understood how his son felt. “Your concern for Diana is understandable; it mirrors my own.  But if we spend all of our time and energy in Pascal’s way, it will take that much longer for him to relay the message we hope to hear.”

The boy scratched his head and then gave his father a hug. “You’re right. I was looking for you too. Mary wants help checking the lower chambers to be certain nothing of value has been left behind. Everybody else is moving people or stuff.”

“Did you volunteer us for this task so we would be nearer the hospital?” Vincent inquired gently.

Jacob shrugged, a small sheepish grin on his lips. “Yes, father.  But Mary did need help.”

Delighted inexplicably, Vincent placed his hand on his son’s back, urging him down the tunnel toward the lower levels. Cheerfully, despite the circumstances, Jacob happily accompanied his father. Pascal watched their departure bemused, enjoying the father-son comradery. He almost missed a message from Zack.

“Vincent!” Pascal shouted, “There’s another message.”

 

Diana knew the giant with the water hose had finally stopped scouring the streets of Manhattan when the monotonous drip, drip, drip ceased. She also knew that rivers of water were still flowing in the streets just outside of the hospital.  “At least I won’t have to swim.”

She stood beneath the covering outside of the hospital entrance as water continued to drip from above and rushed past her feet just at the sidewalk’s edge.  She shivered.

Phone in hand, she dialed the D.A. “Let me speak to the district attorney. Diana Bennett.” She waited while a secretary transferred her call.

“Diana, where are you now?” asked Joe Maxwell.

“In fresh air outside of the hospital.  I’m headed to my car before the rain changes its mind and starts up again. Have anything for me?”

“Not yet.  I’ve assigned a couple of interns to check cases.  I remember something about phony IDs that were really good, so good they eluded the first inspection. Greg Hughes caught the case, but he doesn’t remember the details either. We are still looking.”

Diana sighed.  “Thanks, Joe.  I know you’re busy. I’ve got to check on some things while I can get around then I’m back to the hospital.”

There was a pause.  “How is Doctor Alcott?”

“They can’t tell me yet.  That’s why I’m going back. He’s still critical.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“Not yet, I’m still investigating some information. Call you later.” She said and broke the connection. Joe was a professional worrywart. Phone buried in her pocket, Diana ran for her car, which fortunately was parked in one of the police access spaces. Twenty minutes later, having been diverted around several street closures due to flooding, she was almost halfway to her destination.

“This is crazy.” She maneuvered carefully around a flooded intersection, noting the odd pedestrian scrambling down the streets, hurrying toward the occasional bus moving slowly along an altered route. Halfway to the park entrance, the trip was taking more than twice the time it would have taken under ordinary conditions.

“Grr! Vincent and Jacob must be pacing a new furrow in the chamber.” A sudden thought made her move into the turn lane; catching the light, she made a left, heading uptown. 

Jacob froze, cocked his head as though listening to something.  Vincent, in the middle of handing him a load of blankets, stopped mid-motion watching.  Then he too froze, a smile creeping over his features.

“Don’t drop those blankets.  We will leave them with Brooke on our way.”

Jacob bounded after his Father, blankets in hand.  “Where are we going? Mom is in the other direction.”

“I know where she will be, and I know a shortcut.” He said, relieved, and began to run.  Jacob’s young legs pumped hard to keep up. His dad was still faster than Jacob, but not by much, the older Wells had to admit.

Parked in the garage, Diana looked around for a minute, surprised by the interior dryness of the garage.  Every other place Diana had been lately was soaked. “It’s good to be dry,” she murmured to herself and took out the papers from her briefcase.  “Perhaps I’ll see something I missed.”

Several cars parked, and their relieved occupants paid no attention to the car parked nearest the storage room as they hurried inside to their own apartments.  Diana was startled when after long minutes of silence, she heard a gentle tap, tap.  A familiar smiling face stood at her driver’s side window. Diana flung open the door and was enveloped in a smothering hug.

“Mom, I’m so glad to see you,” exclaimed Jacob.

“Hey, I’m glad to see you too and surprised.” Diana wheezed. “I was expecting your dad. Close by, I suspect.” 

“Aw, Mom. Dad was so glad you are close, he let me come and show you the way.” Jacob replied as Diana locked her car door.

Diana chucked, “I missed you both so much I almost forgot this place was closer than the way I was headed.”

Jacob opened a small door at the rear of a small room behind the elevator entrance, crossing the narrow space to the door of a storage room.  He knocked twice.  The door slowly opened, and Vincent’s head and shoulders could be seen above the door jam.

“Welcome home,” he said and disappeared below the level of the opening.

Jacob, then Diana followed him down what was a ladder resting on a lower level of the storage area.  A tower of discarded boxes, crates, and assorted containers having seen better days were cleverly assembled to form a door. Vincent moved to one side of an opening in the rocky substructure.

Diana’s feet no sooner touched the third rung down than she felt herself float from the ladder to be clasped in a crushing embrace.

“Diana!” Vincent breathed her name, and a flood of emotion bathed her senses, stealing her breath momentarily.  “I have never wished so desperately for access to a hospital.” He withdrew as she winced slightly. “You were injured.  Jacob indicated as much- I did not want to believe it.”

Jacob stood close to his mother, watching intently.

“Really, it’s a minor wound.  They would have made me stay otherwise.” Diana replied, taking Vincent’s hand in her own.  She knew he was more sensitive to her emotions when they touched.  “I can’t stay long, but I had to see you both.” She reached for Jacob’s hand. 

 

“How badly were you injured?” Father said, examining Diana’s expression as he unwrapped her shoulder, carefully removing several layers of gauze stained pink to the edges.

“It’s not bad, as you can see. It was Peter who…” She gazed with tears brimming in her eyes as Father turned with clean gauze and tape for her wound. Mary washed the area silently.  Father applied the bandage in silence.

“You would have prevented what happened had you been able. You are not to blame for the actions of a deluded individual.” Father patted Diana’s hand. “You have done what you could.”

Diana rose and struggled into her jacket with assistance from her son.  Father had shooed Vincent away for ‘hovering.’ He paced distractedly in the corridor beyond. Diana’s mind was elsewhere again. 

“Vincent, I need you to look at something for me if you would.”  They trooped single file to their chamber. “Of course, what is it?”

“I’ve been going over this file and thinking about what the gunman said.  At first it didn’t make sense, but I think I may be on to something.” 

Vincent gently accepted the file as he always handled documents from above.  He turned one thin page over and reread a statement on the back near a diagram. Jacob sat between them, enjoying the sensation of his parents quietly reading together, which seldom happened.  His mother read case files most of the time.  His father read the classics or studied ledgers for the tunnels’ economy.  Father could no longer manage them, no matter how thick his spectacles.

Jacob, no matter how exceptional, could manage only a few minutes seated between his parents before scooting off the bed.  “I’ll go and see if there are any snacks left from dinner,” he said and dashed away.

Vincent and Diana looked up and turned understanding smiles toward the other before once again burying themselves in the reading.

“I comprehend your confusion, Diana.  I am uncertain why I feel an answer is within reach and yet so elusive.”

Diana cocked her brow.  “Yeah, tell me about it.” She stood stretching and then winced, her injured shoulder protesting the motion. “Walk me back to where I left the car?”

“I wish you would stay longer,” Vincent replied, standing beside her, nuzzling her hair.  “Of course, I will escort you.” He returned her files to their case.  She tried to take it from him, but Vincent held it out of reach.  “I will carry it for you.”

Beyond the chamber in the passageway, Vincent tapped a rapid signal on a pipe exposed from bedrock.  Waiting expectantly for a moment and was rewarded by a trill tap in reply.

“Thank you for telling Jacob not to follow us.  I’ll be back before too long.” Diana sighed.

“I will think about what we read.  The solution is there, I am certain.” Vincent returned, squeezing the hand of the uninjured arm, and began walking.

They met Father coming from the opposite corridor.  “I’m glad I caught you.  As soon as you let us know that Peter will be able to receive visitors, I’ll come above to see him.” He paused, “I’m sure I will have to wait in line as his many friends will want to visit to deliver well wishes as soon as word gets out that he has been hospitalized.”

Diana stopped dead in her tracks.  “Vincent, did you remember something about a delivery from that file.”

Vincent, too, became still and turned as if he caught her thought. “You know the significance of what we read and what it has to do with the man who shot Peter.” 

“Diana, are you in danger from this individual?” Father asked.

“Not as long as he’s in custody.  I’m suspicious that no matter what he said, he had a different purpose.  That’s another reason I’ve got to get back to the hospital.” Diana started walking. “There was something disturbing about the suspect that isn’t well… kosher.  I can’t explain it any other way.” She nudged Vincent, “Let’s go.  The sooner I get there, the sooner I can come back.” 

They jogged the entire distance in silence.  Diana thought about why the shooter seemed more interested in Peter Alcott than herself.

Vincent traversed the distance, wondering how he could protect Diana if there was no access close to the hospital where she was spending so much time.  

“I never expected to use this entrance again,” said Vincent as they stood beneath the threshold of the building that was once inhabited by Catherine Chandler.  The thought of her was still a sweet pain.  Vincent shivered.

Diana looked into Vincent’s eyes, obscured by the shadow caused by the closed panel above the ladder. The air around them vibrated with echoes of emotions once so alive they had ghosts of their own haunting the space around the living going up the ladder.

The pair listened carefully for voices or footsteps in the underground area before proceeding through the storage area to the garage itself. 

Standing on tiptoe, Diana planted a kiss on Vincent’s lips.  “You can see my car from here.  I think we missed incoming traffic.  You’ll be able to watch me leave.”

Vincent embraced her.  “Hurry.  Do not forget to check on Peter’s patients, although that might well seem impossible. I’m told he delivered thousands of children in almost fifty years.”

Diana sighed.  “Yeah, thanks for that.  There I thought I had a chance of figuring out how this guy is connected to Doctor Alcott. I love you.” she whispered and dashed for her car.

She hurried to the car and sped from the parking lot far too quickly for Vincent’s peace of mind.  There was nothing he could do here. He returned to the storage area and, sealing the hidden door Below, he paced back toward the home tunnels.  Then changing his mind, he took a branch heading in a different direction.

Vincent stood in a basement filled with about an inch of water staining the floors, soaking boxes and furniture legs equally. Carefully, without creating too large a wake, he made his way to a large standing wardrobe and opened the door.  He stepped inside and up a short flight of stairs, opening onto another basement: the basement of an office.

Up another flight of stairs and down the hallway from the office, a small waiting room with a reception desk behind which sat Rebecca. Since Doctor Alcott’s official retirement, the former tunnel dweller acted as his nurse and receptionist.

“Hi, Vincent.  I was waiting for news about Doctor Alcott. Have you heard anything?”

Vincent shook his head.  “I am sorry, Rebecca.  He has not yet regained consciousness.”

Visibly disappointed, a tear rolled down her cheek, which dashed aside angrily.  “Can I do anything to help?”

“I hope so.  Diana has gone to investigate a very angry individual.  We believe this person shot Peter on purpose, but we don’t know why.”

“Why would anyone do that? Doctor Alcott would help anyone who came to his door.”

“Without question.” Vincent removed a paper rectangle from beneath his vest, holding it before Rebecca.  “Do you recognize this person?”

Rebecca frowned, staring at the image. Without warning, she snatched the photo from Vincent’s grasp and turned to the file cabinet behind her desk.  She opened and slammed drawers with such violence Vincent was certain she would damage either the file drawer or the wall behind until she pulled open a file from a drawer near the bottom of a second cabinet.  Finding the file for which she searched, tore it from the drawer and held it before Vincent’s nose.

 

“Who is this?” asked Diana, recognizing the voice, but was stunned to hear it issuing from her cell phone.

Vincent’s voice purred in her ear.  “I believe I have a name for you,” he said. 

 

Chapter 5

Allison Duggins

 

“Really? Who… and where did this information come from?” Diana asked.

“The information came from Rebecca—Peter’s receptionist. As soon as she saw the photo, she said a few choice curse words and then immediately started searching through his file cabinet. After some frantic searching, she pulled out a file and said this was the man in the photo.”

“Well, spill it. What’s his name?”

“His name is….” But before Vincent could complete his sentence, Diana’s phone buzzed.

“Vincent, hang on. It’s the hospital. Maybe there’s news about Peter. Call me back in a few minutes.” With that, Diana hung up and immediately answered the other call.

“Bennett.”

“Miss. Bennett. This is Dr. Walker. Can you come back to the hospital? There’s been some news about Dr. Alcott.”

“Sure, Doc. I will be right there.”

Diana immediately changed direction and headed straight for the hospital. Dread slowly crept into her brain. She hoped she was jumping the gun on what she suspected she would hear when she arrived.

Dear God, please don’t let it be what I think it is.

Arriving at the hospital, she headed up to the surgical floor and saw Dr. Walker waiting at the nurses’ station.

“Hey doc, what’s the word?”

“Ah, Miss. Bennett. Why don’t we step over here where we can talk in private.”

He led her to a corner of the waiting room. His look was neutral, precise. Diana knew before he even said the words. “Miss. Bennett…”

“Dr. Alcott’s dead, isn’t he?” She closed her eyes for a moment, then slowly opened them to look at Dr. Walker.

“It happened a few minutes ago. The damage was just too extensive. We tried but could not maintain his blood pressure. The bullet tore through his abdominal aorta, and we could not stop the internal bleeding. I am very sorry for your loss.”

Diana stood there, numbed by the news.

Oh God, Vincent… Father… the others. What am I going to tell them?

“Do you have any contact with Dr. Alcott’s family? Is there someone you want us to notify?”

“No. That’s not necessary. I will take care of notifying Dr. Alcott’s family. Thank you, Dr. Walker.”

Diana turned at that point and strode down the hallway, purpose in her step. This time, she was going to get the information she wanted from the guy security was holding if it was the last thing she did.

Diana’s cell rang a minute later, and she angrily pulled it from her pocket and snarled. “What?”

“Diana…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Vincent. I forgot you were calling me back.”

“Was it news about Peter?”

“Yes. I’m afraid it’s bad news.”

“Oh…” The phone went silent for a moment.

“I will come down and tell Father and the others myself. I want to be there for you and little Jacob as well as Father and the others.”

“Very well. I will await your arrival.”

“Vincent, I…”

“I know, Diana.”

“See you soon. Oh, you said you had a name for me.”

“Diana, the man’s name… It’s Brian Warrick.”

Diana hung up the phone and sagged against the hospital wall.

What did Brian and Darren Warrick have to do with Dr. Alcott? I’ll have Vincent take me to Rebecca so I can see that file she has that identified the gunman. Hopefully, the file will have some insight as to why Warrick shot Dr. Alcott.

Diana squared her shoulders and again proceeded to the security office where the gunman was being held. Answers awaited her there, and one way or another, she was going to get them.

 

Chapter 6

Rusty Hough Bader

 

This night was enough to make this ginger snap. Diana’s fury at Dr. Alcott’s shooting steamed within her as she made her way through the intricacies of the route to Vincent in the tunnels. Brian and Darren Warrick had some beef with Dr. Alcott, but who could wage war with Peter, the kind physician?

Mired in overthinking, Diana turned the corner of the tunnel and nearly into a wall of Vincent waiting for her. “You must be deep in thought, traveling on what Pascal calls ‘autopilot.’”

His base rumble comforted Diana, and she only had to collapse against him for his strong arms to embrace her in his cloak. How old is this thing that truly defines the man who intrigues me so?

In the ten-plus years she had known Vincent, she could count the times she’d seen him comfortable enough to hang the distinctive leather cloak on the hook in his chamber. Pressing her cheek against the soft wool of his bulky ivory sweater, she sought a calming breath.

“Just hold me, please.” Diana begged.

“Always… in my arms and in my heart.” Vincent combed her brilliant red hair from her face and held her tightly. “I can help you break the news below. You do not need to bear this burden alone.”

A tear escaped Diana’s eye as she drew back to seek Vincent’s loving gaze. “This is so much worse than anything I have ever done in my job… I mean, I was there… I should have been able to stop it.  Oh, Vincent, I feel like I’ve failed everyone here.”

Vincent pulled her into a small chamber far from the residential tunnels. “No one will think that. You have been a true friend from our first meeting.”

Sitting on a rock outcropping, he pulled her onto his lap. She caught the edge of his cloak where Mary had sewn a minute patch. Mary had used a piece of wool trousers from Diana’s closet. Vincent then declared he carried a piece of Diana everywhere. Rubbing her thumb over the ebony wool, she stared off into the dimly lit tunnel.

“I’d love to believe that, but I believe I will be reliving that moment for the rest of my life. Especially when I am here.” Her words dissolved as she sat stiffly. “I’ll see it in Father’s face. I’ll hear the pain in Mary’s voice.” She wiped the tear away and stood. “Once I share this news, I need to… take some time to tie up loose ends on this Warrick case.”

They had expected bad news. Perhaps it was the tunnel way. So many of the residents had fled the world above due to unfair and unjust situations.

Some people seek out loved ones for support while grieving, while others may choose to be alone. Diana chose to seek professional support while she toiled at the end of the case. She was absent from so many meals, chess games, and Sunday gatherings.

This evening, she sat on her sofa and stared into New York’s night sky. It had been four weeks since ‘that night.’ She and Jacob had been exchanging letters almost daily, and her heart nearly broke so that she couldn’t be down there.

Diana’s grief was not only a burden but her anchor. She got used to the weight and now it held her in place, nailing down Peter’s connection with the shooter, Brian Warrick.

Tonight, a soft tapping on the glass broke her from her research. “Vincent!” She rushed to open the door. “I was just…”

Their fingers meshed as they stood in the moonlight.

“No explanation is needed, Diana. When someone you love becomes a memory, that memory becomes a treasure; it has held us in place below while you work here.” He nodded his shaggy head toward the long table covered with open files.

“Come in, Vincent… I was just about to make a pot of tea, although I’d like something stronger.” She pulled him inside and headed for the stove. Distractedly she opened a crock and scooped out black tea. “You’ll like this. It’s high grown on Song Luo Mountain in the tea-famous Anhui province.” She felt like she was in a bubble, an alternate reality. She held the crock out for Vincent to see the beautiful dark leaves. The leaves of Black Jasmine Song are hand rolled and oxidized to…  perfection.”

Accepting the crock, he buried his nose in the vessel. “It’s scented with night-blooming jasmine flowers.

As Diana withdrew two mugs from the shelf, she turned on the gas below the red tea kettle, a gift from Father and Mary last Winterfest. She felt Vincent’s scrutiny as they waited for the pot to boil. Anxiously, she unclipped her waist-length hair, retwisted it, and reclipped her chignon. “I’m sorry…” She hid behind her crossed arms.

Vincent’s head tilted at her apology. “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.”

Diana evaded his intense blue gaze and stretched her hands wide on the kitchen counter. “Fear… yes. I fear this connection I’ve discovered won’t help our case against the shooter.”

“But you were there; he is guilty.” Vincent’s brows knit.

“Yes, but I want them to have the proof that Warrick intended to kill Peter. I do not want this killer walking the streets. Right now, I’m confirming a line on Warrick being injured and becoming addicted. Rebecca said he sought medical care after a soccer accident. Warrick was a referral. Peter’s file stated his concern over the young man’s opiate abuse. Although Peter prescribed physical therapy and acupuncture, Warrick only wanted drugs. They argued, and Peter recommended residential drug treatment. Warrick tossed some furniture on the way out of the office, and Peter let it go. Rebecca was so angry; she had wanted his destruction to be reported. But you know Peter. Handling that drug case against the other two meant nothing to the shooter.”

Vincent nodded as the kettle began its cry. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

As Diana poured boiling water over the loose tea, she shook her head. “I’d laugh about that if it wasn’t such dark irony.”

 

Joe Maxwell was confident. Once again, Diana Bennett delivered a waterproof case against the shooter. The arraignment was just the formal accusation of the defendant where a plea of guilty or not guilty is entered. The defendant didn’t need to be present if a written arraignment was filed on their behalf by their Attorney, but Joe wanted to see this worm squirm. Dr. Alcott had lived his life in service to so many decent people. Peter seemed to be Joe’s last contact with Catherine Chandler if you didn’t count his wife, Jenny Aronson Maxwell.

 

As Diana’s hand reached for a jar of Braswell’s Honeybell Marmalade on the shelf in her favorite corner shop, Mary’s hand covered hers. “Diana, come home.”

“Home…?” Diana’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Mary’s hands caught Diana’s shoulders. “You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it. Be with those who understand what we are all going through. Come with me.” Their gazes met in silent approval. “It’s not far, follow me.”

Clutching two jars of marmalade, one for Father and one for her, Diana followed Mary through this formerly unknown portal. Diana had been through the Asian restaurant, the basement of Catherine’s building, the park gate, the break in her building’s basement, and now her favorite corner market. How long has this been? Maybe it’s where Father discovered this uncommon marmalade?

As they strolled, Diana regarded the dry pathways. “I didn’t expect the tunnels to dry out this quickly.”

Mary drew her wrap tighter and sighed. “We’ve been so consumed it almost escaped my thoughts.”

The echoes of Jacob’s laughter became louder as they turned the corner, and Mary caught Diana’s hand.

“It’s just Vincent and Jacob waiting for you. Father and I will visit with you later if you wish.”

Mary slipped away as Diana stepped into the archway into Vincent’s chamber.

“Mother!” The blessed hug from Jacob unleashed a flood of tears. She caught his shoulders and returned the healing hug. Vincent joined them as the three of them silently rocked within their healing hug.

 

Hours after Jacob, Vincent, and Diana held loving discussions about their shared sadness, the boy was tucked into his bed under lofty down comforters. Diana and Vincent shared a second pot of tea. “Olivia brought down that tea. I wasn’t sure what I missed more- your company or that intoxicating tea you served to me a while back.” His serious, leonine face dissolved into a smirk.

Diana held her mug in both hands as she shook her head and bumped him with her shoulder. “You are such a wise ass.”

Vincent’s head raised as if to ponder a major point. “Better than a dumb ass.” Without a beat, he placed another shortbread cookie on Diana’s plate.

“On a serious note…” Vincent rose from the deep daybed made up like a sumptuous sofa and opened an armoire. “Our time apart taught me many things.” He returned to his side of the sofa and held a small fabric-wrapped item. “Each night I would go to sleep whispering, thank you for showing this issue; our separation is already solved…” They shared a silent beat as Diana pushed back a wave of loose hair.

Vincent held the fabric in the palm of his large hand, close to his broad chest. “In the late 1700s, workmen discovered large quantities of what became known as 'Herkimer diamond' in Mohawk River Valley dolomite.”

Diana’s gaze narrowed. “Didn’t that instigate a diamond rush?”

Vincent nodded, his golden hair moving over his shoulders. “The first sites where Herkimer diamonds were discovered were the city of Little Falls and the village of Middleville, New York. That is why Herkimer diamonds are occasionally known as ‘Little Falls diamonds’ or ‘Middleville diamonds’,”

Diana looked around the chamber expectantly. “Have you found some here, in the tunnels?”

Vincent’s expression turned from earnest to amused. “Now, do not spoil my disclosure.”

They both settled into the far corners of the day bed. Diana set the plate and mug between her legs as she sat cross-legged. Vincent leaned into a wall of pillows, bent one knee, and left one foot on the floor. Vincent looked at her, down at the package, and then back to her as he reached for her hand. “This is for you…”

After accepting his gift, Diana untied the twine and released the calico fabric. On a sterling silver chain, a stunning Herkimer diamond hung suspended from a shining setting. She cupped it in her palm as her breath hitched.

Vincent cleared his throat. “These stones mean many things. While we were apart, I had so many thoughts.” Diana began to speak, and Vincent held up a halting hand. “Please, there is more.” She nodded and held the pendant to her heart. “It is ‘the stone of attunement,’ for higher attunement and astral connections. Although I had a Bond with Catherine, Jacob shares more with you than I seem to be tuned. It would please me deeply to share a deeper Bond with you.”

They both nodded as a wide-eyed Diana gestured for him to go on.

“They offer emotional healing by clearing repressed fears and negative feelings, fostering a sense of serenity.” Now it seemed that Vincent blushed as his words stalled. Diana’s head tilted at his delay.

“Wearing Herkimer jewelry… on your… skin enhances spiritual awareness. Perhaps for each other, activating an energetic Bond to draw us… closer.”

Diana watched Vincent’s awkward words from under her eyelashes. Placing her saucer and mug on the end table, she turned to him and held out the ends of the chain. “It’s beautiful, Vincent. I know you went through so much to get this for me.”

Diana leaned back and lifted her hair out of the way. Once the pendant rested between her breasts, she sank back against his chest. They had read together like this on numerous evenings. Now, she wanted the peace of the tunnels where she could hear the racing beats of Vincent’s strong heart. Her breath hitched as he stretched out one long leg and brought her close. Melting into his warm embrace, Vincent pulled a warm fleece over them and blew out the lamp to his right.

 

 

Chapter 7

Barbara Anderson

 

Vincent is everything I’ve needed for weeks; she thought as she lay safe and loved in the warmth of his embrace. Why did I stay away for so long? she wondered as she looked upon the remarkable face of the only man she’d ever loved.

It wasn’t long before she was convicted by thoughts that had plagued her ever since that awful day. I stayed away because I’m responsible for Peter’s death; that’s why, she reminded herself.  How can they still want me here, knowing that he’s dead because I failed in my duty? Vincent had assured her that no one blamed her, but she still blamed herself.

She moved away from him carefully, hoping not to wake him. After dressing quietly, she tiptoed from the chamber with her boots and a thick pullover sweater in her hands.

 

Sitting on a rock near the Mirror Pool, Diana was lost in a world of guilt and regret. If only I’d had my gun on me that day… If only I’d reacted more swiftly… If only I… She was sure that if she thought about it long enough, she would realize everything she had done wrong… she would identify every small detail that might have changed the outcome of Peter’s death.

She watched the reflection of the stars in the mirror pool until the morning light extinguished them one by one. She could see that the brightening morning sky promised a beautiful day.

 

Taking a seat next to her, Vincent reached into his cloak and pulled out a napkin packet.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Cinnamon scones and sausage,” he replied simply. “Jacob was worried when you missed breakfast. He told me you’re still sad.”

Diana dutifully consumed the contents of the small package. With a wry smile, she said, “That was very thoughtful of Jacob. He’s growing up to be very much like his father.”

Vincent harumphed. “Funny, I’ve been noticing that he’s growing up to be very much like…” He hesitated.

“…like Catherine?” Diana offered, knowing that he had no desire to hurt her with references to his lost love.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said softly.

Diana smiled sadly, knowing the memories, for him, were still mixed with the pain of loss and unfulfilled dreams. Gazing toward the water, she said, “I wouldn’t really know about that. I never knew her. What I do know is that he has your eyes… and your heart.”

Vincent quietly accepted her praise. He sighed. “I’ve also recently become aware that he is like me in another way.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“The connection I spoke of last night… his Bond with you. It reminds me of the one I once had with Catherine.”

“Yes, you mentioned that last night.” Diana was worried by the revelation. “What makes you think that Jacob has this Bond?” she asked with a furrowed brow.

“He knew when you were injured the day Peter was shot… before word came on the pipes… and then this morning, he knew how you were feeling. He even told me… that I would find you here.”

His voice trailed off as they both contemplated the meaning of the information.

It was Vincent who finally spoke. He sighed heavily and began, “When you were up there… trapped in the storm… in the floods… and then after we heard there was a shooting. I felt so…” He stopped, lost in the recollection of the terror.

Diana spoke softly as she gently laid her hand on top of his. “Vincent, tell me… what is it you felt?”

He turned to look at her, as if he had momentarily forgotten she was even there. “Powerless… completely powerless.”

The look on his face took her breath away. His eyes shone bright with unshed tears. His soul was completely open and unguarded. I’ve never seen him this vulnerable, she realized. Not even the first time we met.

“I wanted to run to you…” he said. “I wanted to find you and make sure that you were safe. I didn’t care who saw me or what the consequences might be.” He looked away for a moment. “Father said it was because I… because I was still trying to save Catherine.”

“Were you?” she asked, knowing that it would make sense.

“No!” he replied, without thought or hesitation. Shaking his head, he continued, “I can’t deny that I thought of her,” he admitted. “… of what happened… back then. But foremost in my mind in that moment was you… reaching you… and keeping you safe.”

Diana reached up, cupping his cheek in one hand and returning the intensity of his gaze. “I believe you, Vincent.”

He leaned his face into her open hand, finding great comfort in her touch.

“What else?” she asked. “What are you not saying?”

“I’m ashamed to say the words,” as he turned away from her and hung his head.

“Please, just say it. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think,” she assured him.

Looking at her again he said, “I’m jealous…” he whispered.

“Jealous,” she repeated the word. “…of me?”

“Of Jacob… of his bond with you. I’m jealous of my own son… because of this connection he has with you. A connection I wish I had… with you.”

He reached into his cloak and retrieved a familiar leather pouch. Emptying the contents into his huge hand, he contemplated them. “Catherine gave me this ivory rose a year after I found her in the park… and I gave her this crystal. I’ve held onto them all this time. Besides our son, they are all I have left of her. But I’m wondering now if holding onto this is what has kept me from having a deeper connection with you.”

He looked up at her again, his eyes filled with pain and regret. “I’ve decided to throw them into the abyss… perhaps then we, you and I might be able to…"

Diana took hold of his upturned palm and gently closed his fingers around the two precious treasures. “No, Vincent,” she said firmly. “You can’t do that… I won’t let you do that.”

“But Diana…”

“Please hear this, Vincent,” she said, looking into his bewildered eyes. “I love you and Jacob more than I have ever loved anyone or anything in my life. You must believe that… but I don’t want what you had with Catherine. I don’t want a connection… a bond like that with you or with Jacob. You have no idea how much it worries me that what you are saying about Jacob might be true.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, clearly surprised at her reaction to his offer.

“Vincent, there is a darkness in me, a place where I lock away all of the evil that I’m exposed to in my line of work. I don’t want you, and especially Jacob, to ever be exposed to that… to ever feel that. It’s a burden I have to carry alone… a burden I chose to carry when I took this job. When I’m on a case that’s especially bad or dangerous… I can’t afford to be worried that you might come to me or endanger yourself. Don’t you see? A bond like you shared with Catherine is a burden I can’t let you carry. Worrying about you would distract me from the job I have to do.”

Vincent looked at her, still trying to understand what she was saying but clearly discerning the love in her eyes.

She squeezed his hand in hers and smiled. “These are precious treasures, Vincent,” she whispered, willing him to understand her. “What you had with Catherine was a treasure. One day, you will pass these on to Jacob and tell him about how beautiful, wonderful, and courageous she was.”

Then, wrapping one hand around the Herkimer diamond he had given her, she said, “And you and I will create our own treasures. I’m happy that we’re a normal couple. I need for us to be a normal couple.”

“By ‘normal,’” he began. “You mean without the burden of a Bond.”

She nodded her head. “Yes,” she said, relieved that he was beginning to understand.

“And what about the burden you are carrying now?” he asked.

She looked at him suspiciously.

“No, I’m not reading your mind or feeling any bond,” he assured her. “But I’m not blind either. I can see that you are troubled. It’s what drew you here in the middle of the night instead of staying in a warm bed with me.”

She stood and approached the water, distracting herself as she watched a white fluffy cloud sail slowly across the Mirror Pool. “It’s about Peter.”

Vincent approached her from behind and put his arms around her. She leaned back into his embrace, accepting the comfort he offered her.

“No one blames you for what happened,” he assured her again.

“I know that… but I still blame myself.”

“Diana,” he breathed in her ear. “The guilty party is going to prison. You couldn’t have known what he was going to do. We can’t protect the people we care for from everything… no matter how we wish we could.”

“I know that… truly I do. But there are still things about this case that don’t make sense,” she explained. “I keep going over it in my head, like some horrible movie. I’m sure there is some detail I’m missing, but I just can’t put my finger on it. I’m sure that Brian Warrick intended to kill Peter, but I can’t prove it… and I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why or what his reason could be. And this supposed stash of drugs that started the whole mess has never turned up. Where are they?”

Before Vincent could offer any suggestions, there was a commotion in the tunnel leading to the Mirror Pool. They both looked up to see Jacob appear breathless and panicked in the chamber entrance.

“Dad!” Jacob exclaimed. “Come quick!… Something bad happened!… Worse than bad! Worse than worst!”

Something must be terribly wrong, Vincent realized. He knew Jacob had a tendency to speak like his best friend, Mouse, whenever he was upset.

Rushing to Jacob, Vincent knelt in front of his son and grasped his shoulders. “Calm down, Jacob… take a deep breath.”

Jacob obeyed his father, breathing deeply, then letting it out with a shudder.

Vincent could see that Jacob’s eyes were wide with terror and his pupils were dilated.

“Now slowly tell us what has happened.”

Jacob’s words came haltingly. “Mouse was carrying Jamie… he said she might be dead… he asked grandfather to help her. Was crying real hard. They took her to the hospital chamber. Everyone was crying and scared, even Rebecca and Olivia. Mouse, didn’t make any sense. Said something about Jamie and some pills. Father said, to go find you… and bring you quick.”

“Diana, I’m going to run ahead,” Vincent said. “Can you bring Jacob to the hospital chamber with you?”

“Of course,” she answered, but Vincent was already gone.

 

The tunnel outside of the hospital chamber was unusually quiet, considering the number of people who were standing vigil there. Jacob stayed close to Diana, holding tightly to her hand.

“What’s taking so long, Mom?” he asked. It felt like they had been waiting there for hours.

“I don’t know, Jacob, but you know what they say,” Diana said absently.

Jacob was confused by her answer. “No, I don’t. What do they say?”

“You know… ‘No news is good news.’”

“No news is good news,” he repeated. “Is that true?”

Diana huffed a little, realizing she sometimes forgot that Jacob was still a kid. A very inquisitive kid at that, she reminded herself. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she said, “I actually don’t know if that’s true, kiddo, but it is something people say.”

“Why?”

Diana laughed despite the somber situation. “You know, Jake, now that I think about it, I think it’s just something people say when they don’t want to hear bad news. So as long as they don’t hear the bad news, they can keep thinking it’s good news that there’s no bad news.”

Jacob crinkled up his nose. “That’s really dumb,” he concluded.

“Yeah, it is,” Diana agreed.

“People say a lot of dumb stuff,” he said in frustration.

“That’s for sure,” Diana said.

Suddenly, realizing how tired she was. She sat down on the tunnel floor and rested her head against the wall.  Jacob sat down beside her.

 

The next thing Diana knew, someone was shaking her awake. Disoriented, she looked up to see Vincent towering over her.

“Where is everybody?” she asked, realizing she must have fallen asleep.

“We’ve sent everyone to the dining chamber. Jacob is with Luke and his parents.” He held out a hand to her and helped her up.

“Is Jamie…?” She stopped, afraid to finish the question.

“Father says she will be all right. He’s going to keep her here under observation for a while, though.”

“Oh, Vincent! I’m so relieved. What happened?”

“She took a drug overdose. Father and Mary pumped her stomach and then gave her activated charcoal. He says it’s a miracle she’s alive.”

“How did this happen?” Diana asked in horror.

“She won’t answer any questions. She says she will only talk to you. Father asked me to bring you in.”

As she entered the room, Diana saw Mouse in a corner nervously wringing his hands. His eyes were swollen and red from crying. Mary was busy disinfecting instruments, straightening the room, and gathering dirty linens.

Father came from behind the curtain. He was carrying a filthy backpack. “You might be interested in this,” he said, handing her the bag.

“What is it?”

“Drugs… a lot of drugs. Mouse found them near Jamie when he discovered her unconscious in her chamber.”

Glancing into the bag, Diana was astounded at what she saw. Can this possibly be the missing drug stash we’ve been looking for? she wondered. Her mind was spinning. Looking at Father, she said, “I have a lot of questions.”

“I’ve told you all I know,” Father said. “If you want any answers, you’re going to have to ask Jamie.”

“This way,” Vincent directed as he pulled back a curtain.

Jamie lay on the bed. She was awake but looked very pale. There were black smudges on her face that had yet to be cleaned up.

Diana sat in a chair next to the bed. “Vincent says you have something to say to me.”

“It’s my fault they’re dead. It’s all my fault.” She began to sob uncontrollably.

Diana was only more confused. “Who? It’s your fault who’s dead?”

“Darren… Peter, too,” she said through her tears. “Am I going to go to jail? Diana, I’m so scared.”

“You’re gonna have to start from the beginning, Jamie. Are you talking about Darrin Warrick? How did you know him?”

“He was my brother. Brian, too.”

Diana felt the room begin to spin. Holding onto the side of the hospital bed, she steadied herself.

 

                  

 

 

 

Chapter 8

cb mcwhorter

 

Jamie was becoming more upset, and Father suggested that this conversation would have to happen later after Jamie had eaten something and perhaps had a nap. Diana couldn’t find it in herself to argue. She even wondered if he’d made the suggestion after seeing her own face. Of all the weird things she thought could happen in this case, this one hadn’t come to mind.

They repaired to Father’s chamber and fortified themselves with tea.

“All right,” Diana said with a sigh. “Would you tell me what you know about Jamie’s origins? I honestly thought she was born here.”

“She was,” said Mary. “And if she has brothers, they are all younger than she.”

“How old are the Warrick brothers?” Vincent asked.

“Older than Jamie,” Diana said.

“Jamie is 28,” said Father. “Where did she get this idea?”

“I’ve never heard Jamie’s full story,” Diana said. “Only that she was born here.”

Mary and Father shifted uncomfortably. “As you know,” Father started, “many of our Dwellers have very unhappy pasts. Even our children.

“Jamie’s mother came to us pregnant. She was a lovely blue-eyed angel, and she’d run away from a man who…” Father stopped and made a face like a man swallowing down bile. “He trafficked her.

“She was only about five months along. As small as she was, she seemed larger. It was a hard delivery, but she recovered. She had trouble nursing, and one of the other new mothers had to help.”

“She loved feeling safe,” Mary said. “But she was one who didn’t like living in the dark. She longed for the sun.”

“She went back Uptop?” Diana asked.

Mary shook her head. “I don’t think she would have left little Jamie. But she often volunteered to go scavenging with the others once Jamie was walking.”

 There was a heavy pause. Vincent took a deep breath. “A group of three went up early one evening. The other two came down, distraught. A man had jumped out of a car and run up to Noreen. He grabbed her around the neck and dragged her screaming back to the car. And that’s the last we saw of her.”

“We had no way to get help for something like this,” Father said, his face heavy with guilt. “We sent up search parties. We scoured the papers for notices of Jane Does at the morgues. We didn’t know what else to do.”

“Did it seem this man recognized her?” Diana asked.

Father nodded. “He knew her name.”

Diana thought this over. How did this dovetail with the Warricks? “What was Noreen’s last name?” she asked.

“Lind,” Mary answered. “She looked just like Jamie.”

“Well, the Warricks don’t,” Diana said flatly. “Does Jamie know this story?”

“She knows that her mother came here pregnant and that she was kidnapped,” said Father. “She doesn’t know that we know she was being sold by a man. She doesn’t know that,” he stopped and took a deep breath, “that Noreen was twelve when she came to us.”

“Oh!” Diana bit out. She took a breath of her own. “No way those men are her true brothers. But why doesn’t she know the rest?”

“We established a policy to tell the orphans what we know when they are ready to ask. Jamie learned the basics and hasn’t yet asked for details. That isn’t unusual.”

“A lot of what she’s said today makes no sense,” Mary said. “And at one point, I suspect she was hallucinating.”

“Shame we can’t get a proper drug screen on her,” Diana grumbled. “However, I can do a search for a Noreen Lind, born circa 1960. You never know what I could find.” Not that it would bring a happy ending.

 

Diana and Vincent went to her loft after dinner. Vincent busied himself making coffee while she started up her computer. Taking a deep breath, she first searched for arrest records.

“Well,” she said, “that was faster than I thought.”

“What?” he asked.

“Multiple arrests for solicitation. One for shoplifting, but not charged.”

“Was she imprisoned?” He brought her a mug and stood behind her to read her screen with her. After a few minutes, he grunted in surprise.

“No,” she said, preparing the mugshot to print. “I’ll print this out. Jamie really does look like her.”

“How old was she in this photo?” he asked.

“Twenty-five. So, ten years after she was taken.”

He retrieved the page from the printer. “Jamie has never had such a hard look about her.”

Let’s hope she doesn’t after dealing with whatever she’s gotten into, Diana thought. Out loud, she said, “Weird. The last record was ten years ago.”

“I wonder why.”

“Sometimes they get help and stay out of trouble. She may have left town. Could be any reason.” Or sometimes, they die, but she didn’t say that. She printed the facesheet from Noreen’s file and opened another site. “I’ll look for her birth certificate next.”

That was easy enough to find and print. And then Diana sat in front of the idle computer, unmoving.

“What’s wrong?” Vincent asked.

“Next is to search for a death certificate.”

He wrapped his hand around her shoulder and gently pulled her to lean against him. A few tense minutes later, she sighed. “There doesn’t seem to be one.” She wrapped her hand around his on her shoulder. “Thanks, Babe.”

He reached for her mug to refill it as he watched her sort through the papers she’d printed out. She then moved on to check her email. He handed her the mug and sat on the couch, still watching her. It had taken years for her to let him see how much her job could bother her. She acted as if she was able to file all her knowledge about horrible criminals into some part of her mind that she could then ignore until she needed it. That all of that was just “work”, and she could forget it as soon as she filed her case report. But it was, indeed, an act. She was haunted by all of it. The first time she had a nightmare in his arms, he realized that. She steadfastly refused to tell him what happened in these dreams, and she often refused to repeat the more grisly details of a case. It was enough that these things lived in her head, she said. She didn’t need to sow them into someone else’s, especially someone she loved. He could accept that. When she turned to him for comfort, when she let him see distress, he was honored to provide whatever solace she needed. Sometimes it was just a hug and a cup of tea. Sometimes, he carried her to the bedroom to distract her until she screamed his name.  

He smiled to himself. Maybe he should do that now. Not because she was that distressed but because they were alone. He checked the time, finished his coffee, and went to her. He bent to kiss the back of her neck. “How much longer?” he breathed and felt her shiver under his hands.

Her lips quirked. “Do we need to get Below?” she said.

“Not at all.”

“We should talk to Jamie before bedtime.”

A hand slid down the front of her blouse. “We have time.”

“You libertine,” she murmured, and she was out of her chair and in his arms.

They had each thought it but never discussed this thought with each other. They may never, out of respect. This was one of the things they had that set their love apart from his with Catherine. Vincent and Catherine were a modern embodiment of platonic love. Perhaps even of the chivalric love that fascinated him as a teenager. The Bond was a help in that there was so often overwhelming emotion that, at times, he couldn’t imagine that there could be more. That their physical restraint came from a tragic misconception was a source of chagrin and guilt for Vincent, and for months, he played a sour game of “what if?” until he confessed his vortex of thoughts to Father. The conversation that came from that cleared the air between them and seemed to calm Vincent’s compulsive thoughts.

The day he confessed his feelings to Diana, he discovered a side of himself he really had never recognized. Her whole-hearted acceptance of his love matched an acceptance with her whole body. Vincent discovered passion and the absolute immersion of physical and emotional sensation that came with lovemaking with someone who loved him completely. Turned out he was a quick study. Diana held nothing back, and he learned that even though he couldn’t form a Bond with her, his natural empathy allowed him to follow her responses. Satisfying her was never ordinary.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom but made good use of the couch for an intense hour. Then they pulled their clothes back on to return Below to find Jamie. She was asleep, so they returned to their chamber Below and stripped each other again.

 

At breakfast, they shared what information Diana had found about Noreen.

“That’s her!” Mary exclaimed on seeing the mug shot. “Oh. She looks so sad.”

Diana took a last gulp of her coffee. “OK. Let’s go talk to her.”

 

After a warm hug, Diana sat next to the bed and became the person people Below rarely saw: Detective Bennett. “What can you share with me about the Warricks?”

“They’re my brothers.”

“How do you know that?”

“They found me.”

“Tell me.”

“I was working at the newsstand, and Darren was staring at me. I thought it was creepy, and then he called me by name.

“I said, ‘How do you know me?’”

“He said, ‘I’ve known you all your life.’”

Jamie was used to flirting. She had no desire to flirt right now or with this guy.

“No, really,” he said. “I remember when you were born.”

She frowned at him. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Darren.”

“And you were there when I was born.”

“Yup, I was so proud to be a big brother!”

OK, that’s enough, she thought. She had never heard of a boy named Darren living Below when she was little, and the names of children who left for Above were well known. She snorted and turned away to open a box of magazines.

The next time she was at the newsstand, another guy was there, who looked a little like Darren. “Wow!” he said. “I’d know you anywhere!”

“What?”

“Darren told me where to find you. I’m Brian. You’re my sister.”

“Are you going to buy something?”

“Um…”

“Go away.”

They caught up with her two days after that at the diner when she stopped for lunch, talking nonstop about their mother. About how she, Jamie, was “kidnapped” by their Dad when their folks broke up. They scoffed at her tuna sandwich and glass of water, going to the counter to get her a large Coke and a burger. The waitress wasn’t pleased.

Jamie couldn’t fathom how, but she started to believe them.

They kept showing up. They brought her food and drinks, and the next thing she knew, she was meeting them in the park. They convinced her to “try something good”. She didn’t know what it was, but she liked the feeling it gave her, and they gave her a bag to keep.

“They said they needed my help. They gave me that backpack and asked me to hide it.”

“What was in it?”

“I don’t know. The main compartment wasn’t for me. I promised not to look. But the front pocket always had something for me. I would meet them every week, and they’d take some things out of it. When it was empty, they gave me a new one.”

“Did they say why they wanted you to do this?”

Jamie frowned. “I don’t remember.”

Diana didn’t have to have Vincent’s gift to feel the anger rising in Father and Vincent.

“Where did they say you were born?” Diana asked.

“Hoboken. They gave me my birth certificate!”

“You have a birth certificate,” Father said.

Jamie shook her head. “That’s something Diana did, just to get me a Social Security number.”

“The information on it is accurate!” Father cried. Diana shot Vincent a look, and he convinced Father to leave.

“Where’s the one they gave you?” Diana asked, starting to see a connection.

“It’s in my chamber, on the dresser.”

Mary slipped out to get it.

“Jamie,” Diana said, “you know I wouldn’t falsify a birth certificate, right?”

Jamie stared at her stubbornly.

“And Brian isn’t dead,” said Diana. “Why do you think he was?”

“He’s not?”

“No. Brian is in jail awaiting trial for shooting Peter, and…”

“Brian was the one who shot Peter!? No! That can’t be true!”

“I saw him do it, Jamie. Again, Jamie, why do you think he’s dead?”

“They didn’t meet me, not for weeks, and they promised me that they wouldn’t leave me unless they were dead!”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” Diana muttered. “And why is it your fault?”

“I doubted them!” Jamie was starting to shake and sob. “They don’t trust me anymore! They didn’t bring me anything new!”

It was time to back off. Jamie couldn’t make sense, although Diana could parse a little out of the mess.

She stood and kissed Jamie on the forehead. “It’s late,” she said. “Sleep, sweetie. Things will look better in the morning.”

She met the others in the hall. “She’s a mess,” she murmured to Father. He shook his head.

Mary handed her a page. “Birth certificate,” she said.

Diana held it up to the light, turned it over, and felt the thickness of the paper. “Hmm.”

“Of course, it’s a forgery,” Father said.

“Definitely,” said Diana. “And I’m pretty sure that it comes from the same provenance as some other forged documents we’ve been seeing.”

The four of them moved off to the dining hall and sat.

“They thought she was homeless,” Diana said. “And I’d bet she’s not the first. Find someone desperate, impressionable, and turn them into mules. But there’s a lot more to figure out here.” She looked at Father. “She’s withdrawing. She really should be in a detox center.”

Father sighed. “Over the years, we’ve learned how to do that ourselves. Peter,” and here Father winced, “got us the medicines and so forth. We have enough to take care of Jamie.”

“How did she get like this?” Mary said.

“They started that day in the diner. They got her drinks, and they doped them. Brought her drinks and food to the newsstand, also drugged. And smart as Jamie is, they had to have pushed the limits. PCP, hallucinogens, narcotics, and who knows what else. Honestly, Father, you have no idea what’s in her system.

“I have no idea how this system of theirs worked for them. She can’t have been the only one. One thing’s for sure, I have to go into the precinct tomorrow. And I have to dream up a story for this backpack.”

“Just leave it here for now,” Vincent said. “We can lock it up.”

Hating the idea, Diana sighed. It would have to do for now.

 

She walked into the office the next morning and was greeted by a whoop. “Bennett!” Scarborough yelled. “You won’t believe what walked right into the 44^th precinct!”

“Try me”, she said.  

“Kid gets picked up for selling in the park. He’s got a backpack loaded with high-grade stuff that someone like him could never score. Says he got it from his brothers.”

“Brothers?”

“And who are these brothers? The Warricks!”

“They have a little brother?” Diana said. No, they didn’t, and another puzzle piece fit into place.

“He says that they saw him on the street and recognized him as their brother. That they lost touch with him when their parents split, and their mother took him.”

“A teenager. No way they have a teenage brother.”

“They gave him a birth certificate.”

“And it’s a forgery.”

“Yup.”

That’s two, she thought. Damn, how many were there?

“I guess I’m going to the 44^th.”

“Nope. Montefiore Hospital. He’s been depleting his inventory.”

Oh, God, how many more?

 

The boy was a mess, and his tox screen was like a shopping list. Narcotics, PCP, amphetamines, cocaine. And also THC and alcohol. She doubted those were in the backpack. Poor kid was probably trying to balance himself out.

Diana was back at the 210, finishing up some paperwork, when Scarborough sat on the corner of the desk. “I know that look,” he said. “You’re making one of those leaps.”

She smirked at him. “I might be.”

“Let’s hear it so I can tell you you’re wrong, and then I can feel stupid later when you aren’t.”

She laughed. “We’ve been looking for their stash.”

“You think that’s all there is?” He looked like he was about to declare her not just wrong, but crazy.

“Course not. But what if they cultivated a dozen “brothers?” She made quotes in the air.

Scarborough looked like he was doing arithmetic in his head. “Three guys could keep track of more than twelve. Maybe lots more.”

“Adds up, doesn’t it?”

Scarborough swore. “So, there are just how many messed up kids with backpacks out there?”

“Horrible thought.”

“And now we’re looking for backpacks.”

“And some way of documenting everything. These guys at least had a ledger, if not a computer program. If this poor kid is any example, they’re going to fall apart one by one. A bunch of scared, messed up, confused homeless kids. We’ll find them.”

The two detectives sat and stared into the distance. Scarborough sighed. “I think,” he said, standing up, “I’m gonna call my wife and check on the baby.”

“I hear that,” she said. She turned to the computer on the desk. She could search more about Noreen Lind on this system.

She hunted for marriage licenses. None with her name.

She hunted the national register to see if Noreen moved. No luck.

“What needle in a haystack are you looking for?”

Diana jumped and turned. “Ginny! Hi!” She accepted a hug from the department hacker. “It isn’t work-related. I have a friend who’s adopted. She started talking about her birth mother and wondered how to find her.”

“The adoption registries are a good place to start.”

If only. Diana shook her head. “The mom left her baby at one of those missions that are closed now. But we do have a name.” You’re getting smooth, Bennett, she thought.

“Can’t get an address?”

“Nope. I found a birth certificate. She was in the system several times for soliciting but not for the last ten years. I didn’t find a death certificate. No marriage. What’s next?”

“She doesn’t have to get married to change her name.”

“Yeah, well, if she’s got an alias, I can’t search for ‘What alias is this person using?’”

Ginny laughed. “How old is she?”

“About 40.”

“Maybe she changed her name legally. I know it’s not likely, but…”

Another database. And boom. “I’ll be damned,” Ginny muttered.

Noreen Lind was Norma Pascal. Diana almost laughed. No question that Jamie’s mother remembered the Tunnels.

“Wait,” said Ginny. “I know that name.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Diana searched on the name and Google exploded.  “She works for the Department of Homeless Services! What’s NoVA?”

“No Violence Again. It’s the city’s support service for domestic violence. She’s one of their public relations people.”

Diana stared at the face on the screen. Same blue eyes in a much rounder face, short blonde hair, and a real smile. A stocky middle-aged lady in a business suit. Doubtful that any of her old pimps would recognize her. “Hiding in plain sight,” Diana said. “Wow.” You go, girl, she thought.

 

She arrived Below just in time for dinner. Settling in between her husband and her son, she leaned over to Father and Mary. “Boy, do I have something to show you!”

Later, in Father’s chamber, she showed them the things she’d printed out about Noreen.

“I cherished the hope that she’d gotten away, somehow, but I hadn’t imagined this!” Mary said.

Father looked a little sad. “Was she too ashamed to come back?”

“Probably more cautious,” Diana said. “Early on, she’d be afraid to lead trouble down to the Tunnels.”

“I think,” Vincent said, “that we keep this for Jamie once she’s come out of the hell those men sent her to. I’m not sure she’d receive it well now.”

“I think you’re right,” Diana said. She stood up. “And now, I’m ready for story time, followed by a long hot soak and a long night’s sleep. This has all been draining.” She kissed her in-laws and went off to find Jacob.

 

Diana woke slowly. Her husband was spooned against her back, his arm wrapped around her waist so that his hand engulfed her breast. She sighed happily. She loved how she fit into his torso so that she could feel his chest inflate against her ribs as he breathed. He lay so that his lips were a breath away from her ear. She was warm, enwrapped in his love, safe, and starting to warm up in other ways as evidence of his awakening stirred against her hip. Sadly, she knew better than to indulge in that urge. She peeked above the quilt to see her nightshirt just against the wall. The clock on the shelf above it showed that the breakfast gong would go off in less than twenty minutes. Snaking her hand into the chill air, she retrieved the shirt and curled back into Vincent for just another breath or two. He sighed and pulled her closer.

Echoing his sigh, she sat up to pull on the shirt and turned to snuggle back into his shoulder. “Morning,” she mumbled.

“He should be here any minute,” he mumbled back.

“Yeah, seems he knows when I wake up.”

They lay in each other’s arms, bracing a little for the inevitable pounce that their son would make from the door. “This Bond isn’t always convenient,” he grumbled. She chuckled and he closed his eyes in pleasure as she ran her hand from his belly and across his chest.

“I wonder if he felt last night,” she said impishly.

Vincent’s eyes snapped open.

 

Chapter 9

Janet Rivenbark

 

“Surely he was asleep,” was all he managed before the anticipated pounce happened.

“Mornin’ Dad. Mornin’ Mom,” Jacob said as his grinning face bounced up from the covers where he’d landed face first.

“Good morning, Jake,” Diana said with an answering grin.

“Jacob,” Vincent said seriously. “What have I told you about asking before you enter a chamber?

“But Dad.  I knew you were awake and that I wasn’t going to wake you up. It’s time to go to breakfast, and I’m hungry.”

Knowing that it would be a few years before he would be able to explain the need for privacy to his son, he gave up with a shake of his head.

“Why don’t you go wash up and get dressed, and your Dad and I will meet you in the dining chamber,” suggested Diana.

Jacob bounced off the bed with as much exuberance as he’d bounced onto it.

“OK, I’ll see you there.” And he ran out of the room.

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Vincent called after him.

 

“Has anyone had a chance to talk to Jamie about what happened?” asked Diana as they left the dining chamber a little while later.

“Not really,” Vincent admitted. “Both Mary and I have told her that if she wants to talk to someone, we would be available. Father allowed her to go back to her chamber, but she’s not really alone. Mouse and Mary keep checking on her. Mary is giving her the medication Father talked about. He said she’d likely sleep a lot for a few days at least.”

“Was he able to find out how long she’s been using what was in the bag?”

“It’s only been a couple of months that she’s been taking it voluntarily. And she said that then she only did if she was feeling tired and felt like she needed the energy boost it gave her.”

“That’s one good thing. It shouldn’t take as long for her to detox. I just wish we knew exactly what she was taking.”

“Father talked to her and asked her to describe what it was and how it made her feel. She didn’t inject anything; it was all pills and powders. He said that from her descriptions and from the way she’s reacting, she was taking mostly amphetamines and maybe something called phencyclidine. I didn’t ask what the phencyclidine was, but I know what the amphetamines are.”

“Phencyclidine is the drug name of what is called PCP on the streets. It acts on mood, and perception and is a hallucinogen. If she was taking the amphetamines, she might have taken the PCP to counter the energizing effect of the uppers, so she could sleep.”

“That explains why she told Mouse she was working with Winslow when he asked her why her hands were red and irritated.”

“Winslow?” asked Diana.

“A man who lived Below. We were about the same age. He died over ten years ago. She was there when it happened.”

“I think I need to talk to her soon, today if possible. Do you think Father will allow that?”

“I think so. Do you think she will need to go Above to testify or anything?” he asked.

“No. We have that other kid, and I’m sure we will be coming across a few more. I’m sure that we will have a case without her.”

 

Just before lunch, Diana stood outside Jamie’s chamber armed with the file folder she’d shown the others. She hoped that the information would be welcome. She could hear Mouse and Jamie talking. 

“Jamie,” Diana called out. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” Jamie answered. “Are  you here to arrest me?”

Jamie was dressed, but she was sitting on her bed leaning against pillows with a spiral bound notebook facedown beside her.

Diana smiled at her. Mouse jumped up and headed to the door.

“Almost time for lunch,” he announced. “Want Mouse to bring some back for you?”

That almost had Jamie smiling.

“No, thanks, Mouse,” she said. “I’m still stuffed from that huge breakfast you brought me.”

Mouse left and Diana took the chair he’d vacated.

“If you’re not here to arrest me, then why are you here?” Jamie asked warily.

“I just wanted to tell you what progress has been made on this case. It’s crazy how it all wound up being linked, when I thought I might be working two different cases.”

“How's that?”

“Well, first of all, I wanted to make sure that you know that the Warricks aren’t your brothers. They aren’t related to you in any way. They had their own way of doing things, and apparently, they were real good at it.”

“I kind of realized that after Mary talked to me after Father let me come back to my chamber,” Jamie said. “She told me all about my mother. The crazy thing is that I knew that story. I’ve heard it over and over, but I guess I just wanted to belong to someone so badly that I was willing to believe them.”

“You weren’t the only one.” Diana went on to tell her about the boy who had walked into the 44^th Precinct and how his story was almost word for word the same as hers. “And we figure that if they had you and that kid, they likely had a whole network of little brothers and sisters around the city. And as they run out of what the Warricks gave them, they will be showing up in shelters or hospital ERs, pretty strung out. We just don’t know how they were keeping track of everyone. If there were only a few, memory would have sufficed, but if the operation was as big as we suspect it was, they had to have been keeping records.”

Jamie looked startled then she smiled slightly. She picked up the notebook that was on the bed next to her and handed it to Diana.

“Maybe this will help? It was in the backpack.”

Diana flipped through the pages and almost whooped with joy. She leaned over and hugged Jamie.

“This is it. Hopefully, this will help us save a few lives of the kids that the Warricks used.”

She quickly paged through the book and tore out a page. Jamie raised an eyebrow.

“Your information,” Diana explained. “We don’t need that.” She handed the page to Jamie, who crumpled it and tossed it into a trash can next to her bed.

“Now, for the other reason I’m here.” She handed the file folder she was carrying to Jamie. “That is all the information I could find on your mother.”

While Jamie looked through the folder, Diana paged through the notebook. There were at least twenty names in it; most of the time, it was no more than a first name, but there was a telephone number written inside the front cover. It was a local number. There was no name or address associated with it but the words beside it caught her eye: BC, DL, SS card. If that meant what she thought it might: birth certificate, driver’s license, social security card, then they might even have found the forger, too.

When she looked up Jamie was looking at the picture of Norma Pascal.

“I look just like her,” she said.

“You do. That was one of the first things Mary noticed, too.”

“But why didn’t she come back for me? Was she glad to be rid of me?”

“I doubt that. I think she probably didn’t want to take the chance of anyone following her Below. Especially early on. Then, later, she probably figured you’d settled in and had probably been adopted by someone Below. She likely didn’t want to disrupt what she thought was probably a good life. And she’d been through a lot; maybe she didn’t want you to know all that.”

“I know it now,” Jamie said.

“And you can do whatever you want to with it. I’m leaving that file with you. It has all her contact information. She’s pretty high profile, so it wasn’t hard to find once I knew where to look.”

Jamie was quiet for several minutes. Diana was getting ready to leave when Jamie looked up and smiled. The first genuine smile Diana had seen on the woman’s face in a long time.

“Thank you, Diana,” she said. “For this…” She tapped the file. “And for everything else.”

“Do you think you’ll contact her?” Diana asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it, but I think it’s a real possibility.” 

 

 

END