HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

"Rise and shine, brother......Jody, the mood I'm in, I'm liable to kill you as much as look at you....Look being the operative word...Shut up, Jody....And wipe that smirk off your face...So what really happened?"

"So what really happened?"

Funny, since when did Jody sound like his partner. "Hunh?"

"Joe, wake up. You okay, man?"

Joe MacKensey swallowed in a dry throat and opened his eyes. Oh God, his entire body felt like a giant bruise. "Eth'n?"

"Yeah." Ethan Ashworth gave his partner a critical once-over. "Can you sit up?"

Joe blinked slowly and found even that hurt. "You mean I'm not?"

Ethan groaned. "Well, your sense of humor's intact. That's probably a good thing."

Joe struggled to sit up. "What do you mean," he demanded, turning serious.

"What happened?"

As if through a distorted lense, Joe remembered and wished he hadn't. "I ran into Keith."

Ethan shook his head. "Aw, hell, Joe, why'd you go to the club?"

Joe looked away and didn't answer. For the first time, he took notice of his surroundings--concrete walls, iron bars. "Oh, hell, I got arrested, didn't I."

"If it's any consolation, Keith did too. Damn, Joe, not even thirty minutes after I get back from my honeymoon, I find you in jail. What were---?"

"Don't start, Ethan. Keith's been waiting for his chance since Bry--" He found he had to clear his throat. "Since Bryce died." Joe made it to his feet, his whole body protesting each movement. "Why are you here?"

"Posted your bail, dimwit. You can't go anywhere until your court date this afternoon."

"Oh shit." Joe raked a hand through his wheat-gold hair. "Jack know?"

"Why do you think I'm here? How do you think you got your court date today?" Ethan folded his arms across his chest. "Of course, now that you have a record, he may think twice about keeping you on payroll."

"Lay off, Ethan."

"Shit, partner, what the hell were you thinking?"

"You're not my keeper."

"Apparently someone has to be." At the flare of anger in his partner's eyes, Ethan made a T with his hands. "Okay, time out." He led Joe out of the holding cell. "So what happened in Morocco?" asked Ethan, trying to get to a safer subject. He still wasn't sure why Jack had pulled strings to make a judge willing to set a court date now. Maybe he'd find out when they got to the agency.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." Joe followed Ethan out of the Arlington Police Headquarters building. Last night, he'd never dreamed he'd wind up here. He'd gone to the Arlington Country Club Saloon to see if he could face his memories. Seeing Bryce collapse against him, blood staining her blouse. He swallowed hard. Instead, he'd found Keith Doyle, Bryce's ex-boyfriend. Bryce had dumped Keith for him and Keith now blamed him for her death.

"Joe?"

Joe glanced at his partner as they got into Ethan's old F-150 truck. "Forget it."

"No. I wasn't talking about that. Have you noticed your answering machine's full?"

"I--" Joe took a deep breath. "I haven't wanted to talk to anybody."

"Justin called while I was there." Ethan cranked the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. "He wanted to talk to you. Said it was urgent."

Joe was surprised. Jody very rarely called, due to all his time taken up with his cases. "Did he say what?"

Ethan braked for a red light, spared a quick glance Joe's way. "Uh....yeah."

At his partner's tone, Joe looked over at him. Steeled himself for the bad news. His dad had retired or oh God, Casi had married Chad. "What is it, Ethan."

"It's about Casi..."

Oh God, she was married, he thought, forlornly. Then another thought crossed his mind. He'd gotten blasted by big brother weeks ago. He didn't need another lecture. "Ethan, no."

"Joe." Ethan waited until his partner looked at him. "She's been kidnapped."

Joe's world tilted precariously. "Kidnapped?" he asked hoarsely.

Ethan nodded jerkily. "She'd gone to Paris for a writers' conference."

Casi never went to those things, thought Joe numbly. She didn't much care for the crowds, the public speaking, the general craziness. Why had she gone this time? To forget you, his conscious accused. He cleared his throat. "Go on."

"Seven days ago, she was kidnapped--"

Joe winced. Seven days ago, on May 12th, he'd had one hell of a hangover from drinking himself into oblivion the night before. He'd spent the rest of that night with his head in the toilet. Joe doubted he'd ever touch tequila again.

"--the ransom was five million dollars. Liam was ready to pay it but--"

Joe felt on the edge of his sanity. "But what?"

"Casi had vanished."

Joe buried his aching head in his hands. "Oh shit."

***

20 May 2003

Paris, France

1:12 pm

"Can I ask a personal question?"

"You want to know why I'm a thief." After a whirlwind shopping spree, Alethea had taken Ariel to a small outdoor cafe. Shade trees made it cool and dim against the bright sunshine.

Ariel nodded. "I don't mean to pry..."

"It's okay." Alethea stared into her after lunch coffee, turning serious. "I grew up in Chicago, spent the first six years of my life in an orphanage. Made the usual rounds of foster families. Then Sandra and Kyle Hadley adopted me. Kyle was a locksmith and he taught me the trade." Alethea shrugged. "When I was fifteen, I met Zeke. He was in a gang. When they found out how I was getting into locked places...well, the rest they say is history."

"But why are you still a thief?"

"The challenge. With all the high-tech security systems out there to get around, the so-called failsafes, it's a blast. Ever seen the remake of The Thomas Crown Affair? For him it was all the challenge, misdirection and mind games."

Ariel had a flash of a dark-haired man and a painting, then pushed it away. "Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"

Alethea took a sip of coffee. "Sometimes, yes. But the fear makes me careful. But usually, I don't worry about it."

Ariel studied her for a moment. "A modern-day Robin Hood."

Alethea laughed. "I'm not that altruistic. But can I dole out some free advice?" she added, turning serious again.

Puzzled, Ariel looked at her. "Yeah."

"Messier's dangerous. Steer clear."

Ariel looked down at her iced tea. "I know."

"You're remembering something?"

"No. I---" Ariel sighed. "Have you ever had a physical reaction to something..or someone?"

Alethea shrugged. "Radcliffe irritates me."

"No. Like a certain someone makes your skin crawl or the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end."

Alethea shoved her half-full cup of coffee to one side and searched Ariel's face. "That's the reaction you had to Messier?" she asked finally.

"Yes."

"Are you psychic?"

"I don't know."

"Right," said Alethea, embarrassed. "I forgot. But there's a way to test it. I know Radcliffe has that deck of cards at his place. Don't know where he got them."

"Playing cards?"

"No. It's a special deck. It consists of five symbols--star, wavy lines, rectangle, circle and triangle. Come on." Alethea signaled for the check and paid it with Nick's credit card, then they hefted their purchases and went to the curb to hail a taxi. After getting one, they loaded up their purchases and hurried to Michael's.

The taxidriver assisted them in unloading the bags and boxes, then drove off. Ariel tried the handle. "It's locked."

"Don't fret." Alethea deftly picked the lock, then they lugged their packages inside. "I think he keeps those cards---"

"Damn it, woman--" began Michael from somewhere up above them. He jerked on the ends of the belt of his ratty looking terrycloth robe, making sure the robe was closed. "It's bad enough you pick the locks..." His voice trailed off as he continued down the stairs. Seeing Ariel, he almost bolted back to the second floor. He cleared his throat. "What's this about cards? Don't you have enough of 'em?"

"That psychic deck."

Michael frowned thoughtfully. "What do you need that for? You're not psychic."

Alethea glared at him. "I think she is."

Ariel hated the fact she was getting curious. "I'd like to see it."

Michael heaved a sigh. "Let me get dressed and we'll check it out."

Alethea studied him for a moment. "It's after noon, why aren't you dressed yet."

"Because some rude person interrupted my sleep this mornng."

"Don't look at me," snapped Alethea.

Michael shook his head. "No. Messier. He came here looking for Ariel."

Startled, Ariel stared at him. "Why?"

"He was being all Mister Neanderthal. Who knows."

Ariel felt a cold chill sweep down her spine. Maybe Alethea was right after all, maybe leaving France was just the thing she needed to do.

***

20 May 2003

Arlington, VA

9:32 am

"Did he say anything else?" Joe asked in a dazed voice.

"No." Ethan hit the on-ramp of the Interstate and glanced at his partner. "Don't."

Joe jerked his head around and gave up pretending he didn't know what Ethan meant. "Damn it, Casi hates going to writers' conferences. The only reason she went..." His voice trailed off.

"Hell and damnation." Ethan veered into the exit lane amid horns blaring and roared down the very next exit ramp. He drove a quarter of a mile further until they came to a park. He halted haphazardly in the parking lot. "How old is Casi?"

Joe blinked. "Twenty-five, twenty-six. I don't know."

"And how old do you have to be, to be considered an adult in most states?"

"Ethan."

"How old?"

"Eighteen."

"So that would make her seven, eight years older than eighteen. And that would make her....?"

"An adult." Joe shot him a sullen look. "Lay off, Ethan."

"No, pal. "You lay off this damn guilt trip. First it was Bryce, now Casi. Damn, Joe, the universe does not depend on you."

Joe stared out his side window. There was the strangest sense of deja vu. "Did I ever tell you Casi had me arrested once?"

Ethan sighed. "What for?"

Joe remembered now. That talk with Donovan..."For reneging on a promise."

"Pretty harsh justice."

Joe sighed. "I had good reason. Jon and I were in India on assignment. No way in hell I could make it to her college graduation."

"So when you got back, she--"

"No. I ran into her in Cairo, Egypt. That's when she had me arrested. I spent the night in jail."

Ethan told himself not to laugh. That sounded so much like Casi. "You mean, last night, wasn't your first time? I'm shocked, thoroughly shocked."

"Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Ethan grinned and made his way back to the Interstate. "Let's get you cleaned up. Jack wants to see us pronto."

"Cleaned up?" Joe sniffed the black Metallica T-shirt. It smelled of cigarette smoke, stale beer and sweat. He grunted. "It's not that bad."

"Jack'll have to air out his office."

"I'm sure Jack's endured far worse. The office and my place are in opposite directions."

"Unfortunately, you do have a point." Ethan leaned over and sniffed, then tugged the cardboard tree-shaped air freshener off the rearview mirror. "Here."

"Refreshing pine scent. Ethan--"

"It's better than stale beer." Ethan flashed Joe a wide grin. "You can't do anything right now. I'm driving."

Joe's answering grin was only slightly malacious. "You can't drive forever.....partner."

***

20 May 2003

Paris, France

2:02 pm

In silence, Michael placed the last card back on the deck and sighed. "I'm sorry. You only got seven out of the deck right."

Ariel sat back and massaged her temples. "So I'm not psychic." A part of her wondered if she even wanted to be psychic. That seemed quite a weight to bear. "Thanks, Michael."

"No problem." He glanced at the door of his shop every time the tiny bell rang to announce someone coming in. Alethea had surprised him by offering to bring Ariel's new purchases to Nick's yacht. His eyes then drifted to the small notebook and package of glitter pens. Alethea had told him that Ariel had purchased them with an almost fanatical air. The notebook had cats scattered across the cover. He noted the book had been placed to the left of Ariel, not the right. Did that mean she was left handed, he wondered.

Ariel reached with her left hand for the pens and opened them, then she pulled the notebook toward her. "Aren't these unusual?"

"Yes, they are. I don't think I've seen colors like that before." Michael took a deep breath and sat back in his desk chair, thinking about the one other thing Alethea had done. She'd told him something that made him even more curious about Ariel and who she was. According to Alethea, they had passed a small church and without noticing she'd done it apparently, Ariel had made the quick sign of the cross, like most Catholics did when passing a church, seeing a crucifix, entering a church.

Michael knew a few Catholics who never even noticed it when they genuflected, as if they did it as habit. Most of those had grown up in the Catholic church from day one. He wondered if he brought it up, it might help trigger something. He started to ask her when he noted she was writing in the notebook, decorating the first page with doodles in each of the colors. Since she was sitting across from him and using his desk to prop the notebook on, he could plainly see she was writing with her left hand. What was curious was how she wrote Ariel. She'd do a curved line almost like a capital letter C, then frown and add a line to make it an A, then add the rest of the name. Was that just how she wrote the letter A or was there something significant there?

Absently, she glanced at him. "How do you spell Alethea?"

Michael spelled it slowly, watching intently. This time she wrote the A in the correct cursive manner, flowing into the rest of the letters. There was something significant here but what? He cleared his throat. "What are you doing?"

She gave a start and nearly dropped her pen. "What?"

"I didn't mean to startle you."

Slowly, Ariel shook her head and stared at the doodles and designs on the first page. "You know, I still don't know why I felt compelled to buy these. It just seemed so obvious to buy them." She flipped the notebook closed and ran her finger over the different cats' faces. "Aren't they cute?"

"You like cats?"

"I love cats. Always have."

She was staring at the cats' faces, with a slightly unfocused look in her eyes. Michael wondered if he'd ask the question now..."Are you Catholic?"

Her head slowly raised up and she looked up at him. "What?"

Michael cleared his throat. "Alethea said you made the sign of the cross when you two passed a small church. Usually only Catholics do that."

Ariel suddenly scooted her chair back and dropped the pens and notebook as if they were on fire. The pens clattered to the floor, half the ten-piece set rolling under Michael's desk; the notebook landed on the floor with a quiet snap. Ariel stood up but looked like she was unsteady on her feet. In a fast move, Michael got up and went around his desk to grasp her elbow. "Ariel?"

Her gold-brown eyes began to fill with tears. Michael pulled her close. "We'll figure this out, Ariel. I promise." He smoothed his hand down her long auburn hair as she cried into his shoulder. He tightened his embrace. "I promise."

***

20 May 2003

Washington, D.C.

9:52 am

"Shouldn't that be a Grateful Dead T-shirt you're wearing?"

"Never was a Garcia fan."

Jackson Wilder glanced at Ethan. "At least you found him in a tolerable mood."

"Hah," muttered Joe, pouring himself a cup of strong black coffee. He dumped several packets of sugar into it, then a little cream. Finally he took a sip and sighed. "That's better."

Jack moved to sit behind his desk. "Your court appearance is scheduled for later this morning. The judge said it'll probably be eleven-thirty. That way, pending the outcome, you can leave for Bulgaria as early as Friday."

"No."

Jack frowned over at him. "I have people over there, Mack. They're on the lookout for her. If she's alive, they'll find her." He didn't explain how he knew. Joe wasn't the least surprised.

"No." Joe shook his head. "She's no operative, Jack. And she can't be treated as such. None of your people know how she thinks, how she works. If she did escape her kidnapper, if she did go underground, I can find her." He refused to acknowledge Jack's mention of her being alive or not. Of course she wasn't dead--that couldn't happen twice in his life, could it?

Ethan was surprised by his partner's calm. He looked at Jack who seemed stunned as well. They both had been expecting Joe to explode. Jackson heaved a sigh. "You have to be in Bulgaria no later than midnight Friday."

"I can find her, Jack."

"This won't be a sanctioned assignment, gentlemen. If you run afoul of the French government, I will not get you out of the mess."

Ethan gave a mock salute. "Yes sir. I can't vouch for my partner here but I won't run afoul of---"

"Shut up, Ethan," said Joe, heading for the door, coffee in hand.

Jackson Wilder studied them for a second. Appearance wise, they were opposites with Joe's gold hair and blue eyes and Ethan's dark hair and dark eyes. But those who knew each of them had said two men so similar in personality would be at each other's throats in seconds. Instead, they had become good friends. "Time's awasting, gentlemen." Jack saw Joe head out the door. "Hey, that's my favorite cup."

"I'll bring it back," called Joe as he and Ethan headed out of the office and out the building. Ethan veered for his old pickup truck as Joe followed still drinking the coffee.

They got into the truck and Ethan backed out of his parking space. Since Joe's apartment was closer, he headed in that direction. He kept quiet until Joe was packed, then headed to his house. "You surprised me back there," said Ethan, finally, as he braked to a halt in his driveway. "Usually you'd have gone ballistic by now."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch. Go get packed."

Ethan just sat there. "Why'd he change his mind? Jack never changes his mind."

Joe glared at him. "The longer you sit there like a bump on a log, he will change his mind. Move it, Ethan."

"Do you think he meant it? Do you think he'll let us go?"

Joe took a deep breath. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he felt much better but his calm demeanor was about to crack wide open. "Damn it, Ethan, go get packed," he ordered through clenched teeth.

"I'm going already." Ethan did no more than touch the door handle. "Do you--?"

"Ethan! By God, I swear if you---" Joe caught his partner's grin. "You're not driving now," he growled.

"Okay, okay." Ethan's grin widened and he scrambled out of the truck. "Be right back."

"Like hell." Joe got out, too. "You're the slowest man in Virginia."

Ethan unlocked the door to his house. "Who made you king of the hill?"

"Well since Jack said this was an unsanctioned mission, I'm the boss."

"Hah. And you left Jack's favorite mug at your apartment." Ethan walked into the foyer of the house and led the way to his bedroom. In sharp contrast to Joe's apartment full of clutter, Ethan's house was neat and tidy. Ethan didn't mind having to search for anything. This was his house--no, his and Cathy's house. Damn, he liked the sound of that. "I'll be done in a jiffy."

"Get packed or I'll leave without you."Joe just grunted and went into the kitchen to grab a soda. Although they'd just returned from their honeymoon, there were already signs of Catherine and Ethan's marriage. A plaque hung in the kitchen and Joe saw it was a marriage prayer, personalized with Ethan and Catherine's names.

Seeing Catherine's name done is gold calligraphy made his heart clench as his mind followed the lightning quick association of sisters to Casi. A part of him expected Jack to trick him, although Jack had never tricked him that way before. He set the half-full can of soda on the counter, braced his palms on the smooth dove gray countertop. He had to find her. It couldn't end this way."

"Joe, I'm ready." Ethan came into the kitchen. "Hey, pal, you okay?"

Joe took a deep breath, gulped down the last of the soda and tossed it in the trash. "I'll be fine when we find Casi. Let's go."

***

20 May 2003

Paris, France

2:11 pm

"Why are you telling me this?" Nicholas Quinn glanced over his shoulder as he headed for the galley of the yacht.

"I didn't want to talk to Radcliffe like Ariel wasn't there."

Something in Alethea's tone made Quinn frown. "Al?"

Alethea took a deep breath. "She didn't condemn me. Didn't tell me I'm wrong, didn't tell me I'm evil."

"Neither I nor Michael has ever told you that."

"I know. But she's the first person to know outside of you, Radcliffe and Joely." Alethea slumped onto his leather sofa. "And I like her."

"So she purchased a notebook with cats on the cover, a set of gel pens and she made the sign of the cross passing a church. Well, the latter I can pretty much figure. She's probably Catholic, has been since a child."

Alethea nodded. "That's what I thought. But the other is puzzling. She acted like it was a matter of most importance to purchase that particular notebook."

"Maybe she likes cats." Quinn shrugged and pulled a pitcher of tea out of the refrigerator. He poured two glasses full, dropping a wedge of lemon in one. He placed the pitcher back in the refrigerator and kicked the door closed as he picked up a glass in each hand. He walked over to Alethea, handed her the glass with lemon, then sat down across from the sofa. "Maybe she's one of these people who do journals or diaries."

Alethea sipped the tea, then set it on the glass-topped coffee table. "No. There was a whole stack of those locking diaries there next to the notebooks. Several had cats on them."

Quinn shrugged again. "Maybe she doesn't do conventional diaries. Who knows, Al, maybe it's nothing."

"And there was a whole range of pens of every style, color. She took ten minutes deciding on the glitter gel pens in metallic colors. Like she had to have just that set."

"It still doesn't tell us who she is. So she likes notebooks with cats on them, she likes gel pens and she's Catholic. I'd wager there are at least a hundred women who like those very things and is Catholic. It's not enough to tell us who she is."

"I've been thinking about that piece of metal you found under the second toe on her left foot. I think it's part of a toe ring."

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "Possible, I guess."

Alethea pushed herself off the sofa and sighed. "I don't know, Quinn. Something's odd. She told me she reacted to Messier the way a cat reacts to a dog, almost. She said if she'd been a cat, her back would've been arched, hair on end, hissing and spitting."

Quinn was quiet a moment. "I saw her reaction. I've wondered about that. Like she was scared of him."

"If he's not her husband, why would he claim to be?"

"I went to Alexander yesterday. He told me about a kidnapping..."

Alethea spun around, her brown eyes wide. "You think...?"

"It's too soon to know one way or another. Al, what if she isn't the kidnapped girl. It would torture her parents if we give them false hope."

"But what if it is the kidnapped girl. If we could reunite them, she might be able to remember."

Quinn sighed and slowly shook his head. "I'd rather wait and see if she remembers. Then if she is the kidnapped girl, I'll be the first to get her back to her family."

Alethea sat back down on the sofa. "What makes a person forget something so intrinsic to their life?"

"I don't know. Maybe she lost something or someone, maybe it was some sort of horrific trauma." Quinn sighed, remembering something Alethea had mentioned yesterday. After he'd pulled Ariel from the river, he'd found himself uncomfortable in undressing her. When Alethea had returned from looking around the Pont de Tournelle, before she could even tell him if she'd found something, he'd asked her to undress Ariel. "You said there were old scars."

Alethea blinked, then nodded. She ran a hand across her right hip. "A long one right here. It was white and sunk in just slightly. It didn't look like a knife had done it."

Quinn arched both eyebrows. "You think someone shot at her before?"

Alethea thought about it for a moment. "Yeah. I do. Then there was a scar on the instep of her left foot. It looked like it had been deep when it happened but it looked like it happened a long time ago." Alethea shrugged. "I don't know if that means anything though."

Quinn shifted in his chair. "There's no description in the paper."

"Why isn't there?" asked Alethea, startled. "That makes no sense."

"Unless someone's afraid that unscrupulous people will lay claim to the kidnapped girl or something."

Alethea tapped her lips with a finger. "Ah-ha."

Quinn frowned. "Alethea..."

"I think I need a computer." She pushed herself to her feet and started for the narrow steps leading topside.

Quinn jumped to his feet. "Alethea, no." He followed her out onto the deck, blinking in the bright sunshine. "Al, that's not where the computers are sold anyway. It's MSI headquarters for the whole kit and kaboodle."

"Then I need a franchise, regional whatever." She started for the concrete walkway. "See ya."

"Al, don't do anything stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Isn't that Radcliffe's special talent?" Alethea swung one leg of the motorcycle seat and settled down. She revved up the engine, then clapped an ink-black helmet on her head. She gave a wave and roared off.

Quinn stood there for a long moment, then turned to go below decks but not before giving the river a forlorn look. His favorite mug was probably buried under mud and silt. A thousand years from now some space-age archeologist would discover it and think how odd a souvenir mug from Las Vegas would be here in the Seine. Quinn sighed. He'd better go below and get out his checkbook. Alethea was sure to get herself in trouble this time.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.