LEROY SAMPSON, RAMSEY’s best friend and a former Protector, stood at the door to his home office, watching as Ramsey dozed on the couch, finally giving in to pure exhaustion. After twenty-four hours of mindless searching, Ramsey had acquiesced to Leroy’s insistence that he lie down.
Leroy’s house had become an impromptu command center. Declan had taken over the dining table with his laptop and maps, giving instructions to those assigned as to where to look for Sarah. The Council had garnered as much reliable assistance as they could find and had dispatched a group of people to blanket the area near where she had disappeared, each with a sketch of Yates and a picture of Sarah, in hopes of locating at least one of them. So far, they’d had no luck.
Ramsey had joined in on the search, hitting every commercial property close to the restaurant, but he found nothing. He’d then headed to the coast and randomly walked to any door he could access to ring the doorbell and ask if anyone recognized the people in the pictures. After a long day with no results, Leroy had located Ramsey and managed to convince him to return to the house and eat something, even though Ramsey had little appetite. He’d insisted on going back out, but Leroy explained that not many homeowners were going to answer their door to a bedraggled stranger after dark, especially in the affluent areas where he searched.
Finally, Ramsey relented, and he remained at the house where he could be close to hear the updates Declan received from the other people in the field, although by then, the search had ended for the night, with plans to resume again in the morning.
That evening, they determined the next areas to cover in the morning and who to send where. Hannah had contacted Leroy and Declan, telling them that she had taken leave of her current home healthcare assignment and wanted to help. She’d been there for a few hours but left, planning to return the next day. Leroy’s wife, Olivia, had made food for all of them, but they ate little. Declan had disappeared in the early am hours to catch a few hours of sleep, and Leroy had tried to get Ramsey to do the same. But after another argument and failed attempt to get him to rest, Leroy gave up and headed into his own bedroom.
After a few hours of restless slumber, Leroy had emerged again only to see Ramsey still in the living room, looking over the maps of the neighborhoods they would search that day, as if they had missed something. Declan was in the kitchen, but he only shook his head as Leroy joined him, unsure himself what to do with his brother.
Now, four hours later, after another argument, Leroy had finally managed to get Ramsey to eat a few bites of lunch and go into the office to lie down, but only by promising to wake him if anything happened.
After watching for a few minutes, Leroy closed the door, determined to let his friend rest for a while. He prayed they’d find Sarah soon, knowing that Ramsey would kill himself looking until he found her. He walked into the living area, where Hannah sat as Declan hung up the phone.
“How is he?” asked Declan. His jawline was shadowed with stubble.
“Finally asleep,” said Leroy. He walked to the couch and sat.
Declan rubbed his eyes, feeling his own fatigue. “I don’t know what to do with him.”
Leroy sighed. “You and me both.”
“I can’t blame him, though.”
“No. I know how I’d feel.”
“Yeah.”
Hannah listened to them. Holding a cup of coffee in her hand, she tried to perk herself up after her own restless night. She voiced the concern no one wanted to mention. “What if we don’t find her?”
Declan dropped his hand from his face. “That’s not an option.”
“We’ll find her,” answered Leroy, not wanting to think of the alternative.
Hannah heard their answers but wasn’t satisfied. “You know, we have to think about this.”
Declan spoke through a yawn. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we have to think like he…Y does. Right now, we’re in reaction mode. We’re just out searching the streets, which doesn’t exactly offer the highest probability of success.”
“Agreed,” said Declan. “But what else do you suggest we do?”
“I don’t know. But Y’s up to something. He has a plan. He knows we’re looking for her. And if he plans on staying around, then he knows we’ll eventually find her.”
“He’s right about that,” said Declan.
“Well, he’s not going to just give her back.”
Neither Declan nor Leroy said anything.
“He wants to hurt Ramsey, make him suffer,” Hannah continued, thinking out loud. “He knows what Sarah’s absence is doing to him.”
“What are you saying?” asked Leroy.
Hannah sat forward. “I’m saying Y doesn’t have short-term plans. He wants Sarah. He’s always wanted her. He’s…”
Declan sat up. “What, Hannah?” She hesitated. “What are you not telling us?”
Hannah sighed. “Sarah told me a few things about her meeting with Y, when Ramsey was sick.”
“What?” asked Declan. He’d wondered if Sarah had mentioned everything from her encounter with Y, where she’d offered a vial of her blood in exchange for serum in order to save Ramsey’s life.
“That he felt entitled to her, as if she belonged to him. Since they’re both the last two Red-Lines, he believed that if he’d gotten to her before Ramsey, that she would have wanted him instead.”
“Not surprising,” said Leroy, “considering the ego on the arrogant bastard.”
“But she doesn’t want him,” said Declan. “What’s he going to do? Force her to comply? He doesn’t strike me as a guy who likes a woman who doesn’t want him.”
“So what do you do when you want someone who doesn’t want you?” asked Hannah.
Leroy and Declan didn’t know how to answer, until something occurred to Declan. “You think he has a way of changing her mind?”
Hannah nodded. “He’s a Red-Line, Declan. He sent some sort of toxic poison through a mirror to kill Ramsey. Don’t you think he may have other talents as well?”
“Creating a poison and getting a woman to fall in love with you are two totally different things,” said Leroy. “I suspect the first is easier than the second.”
Declan thought about it. “He took her blood.”
“I know,” answered Hannah.
Leroy listened to them. “What are you saying? That he’s got some way of brainwashing her?”
Declan sighed. “I don’t know. Why would he take her blood, though?”
“Think it through,” said Hannah. “What better way for Y to get what he wants? He gets Sarah and makes the man he hates, and who loves her, watch as she chooses Y over him.”
Both men stared, saying nothing.
Finally, Declan spoke. “I’d say that’s effective revenge.”
“You think he could do that?” asked Leroy.
“He’s well motivated,” said Hannah. “I’d say yes. Besides that, he doesn’t just want to keep Sarah for himself and make Ramsey suffer.”
Declan felt his initial unease flair. “What else does he want?”
Hannah sat silent momentarily. “Children.”
Both men were quiet as they processed what she’d said. Declan could only stare in surprise, and Leroy took a second to absorb the implications.
“Listen to me,” Leroy answered, his tone turning serious. “Regardless of whatever we think right now or what Y may have up his sleeve, none of us is going to voice a single word of this theory to Sherlock.” He referred to Ramsey by his middle name, which he’d done since first meeting him, much to Ramsey’s dismay. “You understand?”
Declan swallowed and rubbed at his temples. “He won’t hear a word from me, unless there comes a point where he needs to know.”
Leroy looked at Hannah.
“At some point, we’ll have to tell him,” she said.
“Then we’ll deal with it when the time comes, but for now, not a word. The man’s struggling enough as it is.” His authoritative air left little room for discussion.
Hannah nodded her head. “Okay, Leroy.”
**
Four hours later, Ramsey emerged from the office looking worn and tired, as if his sleep had only added to the weight on his shoulders.
Hannah looked up as she was speaking on the phone. She’d been helping Declan follow up with those out on the street searching for Sarah. As people called in, she noted their progress and then sent them to wherever Declan indicated next. Declan and Leroy were sitting in the kitchen, looking over maps of potential new areas to search.
Hannah hung up the phone as Ramsey walked to the table.
“Any news?” he asked. His sunken, unshaven cheeks and puffy eyes portrayed his weariness and worry.
“Nothing new,” she said, and watched him deflate. “When’s the last time you ate a solid meal?”
“I’m not hungry.” He stood by the couch. “What can I do?”
She told him what he didn’t want to hear. “You can go take a shower and get something to eat.”
“I can shower and eat later. Where’s the next search area?” He searched for his keys, preparing to leave the moment Hannah answered him.
“We’ve got plenty of people looking, Ramsey. You need to rest.”
Ramsey’s fragile nerves stretched thin. “Dammit, Hannah. I don’t need to rest. I’ve rested enough. I can’t just sit here. I have to go out and look for her.”
“You’re not going to do her any good if you collapse while you look. You have to keep up your strength.”
He continued to look for his keys. “Forget it. I’ll head out my own.”
Leroy and Declan came out of the kitchen at the sound of Ramsey’s voice. “Sherlock?” asked Leroy.
“What, Leroy?”
“You need to take it easy. You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
Ramsey’s last reserves snapped. “Will you all stop telling me what to do? While I’m here resting, Sarah’s out there dealing with who the hell knows what. I’ll rest when she’s back here safe.” He searched the room without success. “Where the hell are my keys?”
“John,” said Declan.
“What, Declan?” Ramsey retorted as he swiped at some papers.
Watching his brother dig through a pile of discarded maps, Declan stilled himself and tried to project some measure of calm toward Ramsey.
“Stop doing that,” said Ramsey, feeling the wave of energy hit him. “I don’t want or need your interference.”
Declan remained passive. “John,” he said. “She’s going to be okay.”
Ramsey’s head whipped back at him. “How the hell do you know that? You don’t know where she is or what she’s going through. God knows what he’s doing to her.”
Declan didn’t let Ramsey’s outburst stop him. “She’s going to be okay.”
Ramsey stopped for a second, but his manic energy wouldn’t still. “You can’t be sure of that. If she fights him or refuses to comply, he could hurt her.”
Declan kept up his affirmation, knowing that Ramsey needed to believe in something. “She’s going to be okay.”
Finally, Declan’s words seemed to pierce through the wall of fear that Ramsey had erected. He stood as if he carried a hundred pounds of weight around his neck. His frantic, searching gaze managed to stop long enough to find and hold Declan’s.
“You don’t know that,” he said.
Declan didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes, I do. I feel it in my bones.”
Ramsey studied him, feeling for any indication that Declan might be lying, but he couldn’t find it. Feeling some small amount of weight shift, but not disappear, he felt his fatigue hit him, and with quivering legs, he found the armrest and lowered himself down onto the couch. Releasing a deep breath, he found himself shaking, and he clasped his hands together to keep them still.
“Sherlock,” asked Leroy, “you okay?”
Ramsey didn’t answer. He took in lungfuls of air as his body continued to quake and his vision spun. He leaned forward and closed his eyes against the dizziness.
Hannah was up and sat next to him on the couch. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked. She reached for his arm and felt his cold and clammy skin.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I can’t seem to get enough oxygen.” His breathing picked up, and he turned pale. Another wave of dizziness hit him, and he closed his eyes.
Declan and Leroy kneeled beside him. “Take it easy,” said Declan.
“I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” said Hannah. She looked at Leroy. “Leroy, do you have a paper bag?”
Leroy stood, headed into the kitchen, and returned with a brown paper lunch bag. He handed it to Hannah.
She took it and opened it. “Breathe into this,” she told Ramsey.
He did as she asked, breathing shallowly at first, but then deeper, and his breathing began to slow.
“Feeling better?” asked Hannah.
Ramsey managed to open his eyes and saw three concerned faces looking at him. “A little,” he said into the bag.
“Take your time. Are you dizzy?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“It should pass in a minute or two. Just keep breathing.” She kept watch over Ramsey and tried to lighten the moment. “You’re lucky I’m a nurse.” She patted his hand. “You’d have never made it this far.”
Ramsey’s breathing slowly returned to normal and he lifted the bag from his face. “Me and Sarah both,” he added. He was still pale. Despite his cool skin, beads of sweat popped out on his forehead.
“I know you’re not hungry,” said Hannah, “but something in your stomach would help. You need fluids, too.”
He rested the bag in his lap. “I’m fine.”
“You look terrible,” said Leroy, studying Ramsey’s haggard face. “If Sarah walked in here right now, she’d give you an earful for not taking better care of yourself.”
Ramsey stared over at his friend. “God, I wish she would.” He dropped his head. His vision slowly began to clear, and he blinked his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if…” He took a deep breath.
“Stop thinking like that,” said Declan. “I know it’s easy to think the worst and your imagination is running wild, but you have to remember something. He’s not going to hurt her. He wants you to suffer, but not her. Even if she refuses to do what he wants, he won’t harm her. But what he will do is hold her until he drives you stark raving mad, which I suspect is a big part of his plan.”
“Well,” said Ramsey, finally feeling his dizziness lift. “It’s working.”
“So don’t give him the satisfaction of falling apart,” said Declan. “You do what you need to do to find her, but you have to take care of yourself in the process. You keep going like this, and you won’t last long enough to enjoy it when we bring her back.”
“And I don’t want her yelling at me for not taking care of you while she was gone,” said Leroy.
“I’ve seen her temper,” said Declan. “Nobody wants her angry.”
Ramsey allowed himself a brief smile. “No,” he said. “Nobody wants that.”
“Olivia made some soup,” said Leroy. “Think you could handle some?”
Ramsey sighed and sat back on the couch. He knew they were right. No matter how much he wanted to spend all his waking moments searching for Sarah, he couldn’t neglect his body for too long without consequences. “Okay,” he said, finally giving in, “I’ll try some soup.”
“Good,” said Leroy, heading into the kitchen. “I’ll bring you some water, too.”
Hannah kept an eye on Ramsey. The phone rang, and she rose to answer it. “You stay where you are,” she told him. She picked up the phone and followed up with another searcher calling in to report his progress.
Declan continued to monitor his stepbrother, and when his earlier frantic energy did not return, he sensed that Ramsey had achieved some measure of acceptance. He hoped that meant Ramsey would be a little easier to handle. He began to rise from his kneeling position.
“Declan?”
Declan stopped in mid-crouch. “What?”
“You meant it, didn’t you?”
Declan sank back down and put a hand on Ramsey’s shoulder. “Yes, I did. She’ll be okay. I wouldn’t lie to you. “
Ramsey said nothing, but Declan watched his lost look return. “Hey,” he said. “If you eat all your soup and take a shower, I’ll give you my piece of Olivia’s chocolate cake.”
Ramsey’s lost look faded. “You don’t eat chocolate cake.”
“I know, but Leroy does.”
“You’re taking your life into your hands.”
“I’m willing to do it if it will help you feel better.”
“That must be one hell of a piece of cake.”
Leroy walked into the room, holding a bowl of soup and carrying a tray table. “Anybody touches that last piece of cake, they’ll pull back a stump.”
Declan chuckled, and Ramsey couldn’t help but allow himself a short-lived smile.