MOTHER'S DAY

By AJB

PROLOGUE  

Soft breathing lured him from sleep but before opening his eyes, Martin nuzzled the warm, soft skin of Samantha’s shoulder and appreciated her musky smell for a moment. Dawn wasn’t far away- he could feel it. He tucked in her close to her, glancing at the glowing red numbers on the clock – 4:48. Smiling, he worked his nose through the tangle of golden hair until it rested right behind her ear. Then he kissed the pliable flesh under her ear lobe.  

She groaned and stretched her neck, not quite awake. Martin pressed a pair of soft kisses in his favorite spot before moving on. He worked one arm under her waist and around her hips, pulling her closer as he stroked a long line down her flank with the other hand.  

“Mmmm. . .” she breathed, fumbling to find the stimulation with her hand. Once done, she rested her palm on the top of his fingers, encouraging the exploration.  

Martin kissed her neck and pressed his growing interest into the erotic curve of her lower back. Samantha turned her head toward him, her eyes still closed. The ambient light made her skin glow. Martin kissed the corner of her mouth and she swam to wakefulness.  

They both startled when her cell phone sang from the bed stand.  

“Aw, shit,” Samantha sighed.  

Quick to put aside the disturbance, Martin continued mapping her body with his, cupping her breast and hoping the phone was a dream. It persisted. Samantha’s hand left his to quiet the intruder. She fumbled the device, cursed, and then silenced it with a flick of her wrist. “Spade,” she croaked somewhere in the area of the receiver.  

She tried to ignore her paramour’s advances as he lightly fingered the silky line of hair that lead to her most warm and ready place. A quickly suppressed gasp followed by her clamping her hand over the phone’s speaker encouraged him onward. He readjusted just enough to slip his hardness between her legs and thrust against her, teasing.  

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Samantha managed to gasp before she snapped the phone closed and let it drop to the floor. “Martin,” she whined. “I’ve got to . . .” She didn’t get a chance to finish the statement.  

Several minutes later she caught her breath, swatted Martin’s tousled head and rolled from the bed. “I can’t wait for the shower to heat up now thanks to you.”  

Martin, sated and smiling, chuckled as he left the rumpled bed at a slower pace. He grabbed his robe from the closet door, pulling it on as he navigated the clothes strewn across the floor from the night before. “I’ll get you some coffee.”  

Samantha’s voice echoed behind the bathroom door just before the shower knob squeaked. “Check on Finn?”  

“Sure.” He was sure she didn’t hear him, as she was busy muttering curses about tepid water.  

Down the hall, Martin poked his head in Finn’s room and saw that the baby was sleeping soundly so he pulled the door closed with a quiet snick and headed to the kitchen. Coffee was in progress before the shower sounds stopped. In the few quiet minutes to himself, Martin threw together toast and scrambled eggs, combining them into a to-go sandwich that he wrapped in a paper towel. Samantha was on call for the weekend and he knew the chances were against her getting a meal anytime soon with a new case to handle.  

Her coffee was in a travel cup and the sandwich ready to go when she rushed down the hall brushing her hair. She paused to look in on Finn and Martin heard her whisper, “I love you, baby.” He peeked around the corner and watched as she wrestled her hair into a ponytail. She was in motion with the finishing touch, pulling on her coat as she headed to the front door. He moved to the door and waited to hand off the sustenance seconds before her arrival in a well-rehearsed dance.  

“Brian should be here by nine for Finn,” she said. “Thanks for being here.”  

“My pleasure, you know that.” He sneaked in a peck to her cheek when she reached for the food.  

“Mmmm,” she complained through a mouthful of egg. “Stop that. You’re gonna make me even later.”  

Martin opened the door with a grin. “Guilty. I called a cab. It should be here any time now.  I’ll let you know when Brian picks up Finn.”  

Samantha headed out the door but stopped on the threshold and turned to him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” she said, then gave him a quick kiss. “Gotta go.”  

Martin watched until she turned the final corner then went to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee for himself. Holding the warm mug between his hands, he moved to the front window and watched her get into the cab just as pink fingers of the approaching dawn marked the sky.  

Taking a careful sip as the cab disappeared from sight, Martin felt like a very lucky man.  

CHAPTER ONE  

Martin got through two cups of coffee and a majority of the sports pages before Finn demanded release from his crib. Entering the boy’s room Martin found the boy standing up, squealing happily, as he clutched the side rail and bounced on the mattress with joyous abandon. Martin’s face broke into a smile.  

“Well, look who’s a morning person,” he said as he moved to lower the panel. “I don’t think you got that trait from your mother.” Finn released the rail and reached up to Martin, falling to his bottom in the process.  Finn chortled and wiggled as Martin lifted him and held him to his chest. “Don’t tell your mother I said that.”  

“Mamamamamama,” Finn sang in reply.  

Making short work of the clothes and very wet diaper, he again appreciated the expertise acquired from the close relation with his nieces. He kept his eyes on the clock through a messy but successful breakfast and then regaled the energetic bundle to the bouncy chair hanging in the doorway while he cleaned the kitchen. Finishing in good time, he started out of the kitchen to get dressed when his cell rang. He plucked it from the counter as he passed and flipped it open without checking the caller ID.  

“Fitzgerald.”  

“Hey.  How’s the morning going?” Sam’s voice caused a warm tingle.  

"Great. Just getting things together for the Finn transfer.”  

“About that,” she began. “I just got a call from Brian. Weather delayed his flight and he won’t be in until early afternoon. I’m sorry – can you hang on until I can make arrangements?”  

“Hey, no worries. I’ll take care of him. I had nothing planned.” Martin grinned. “You will owe me, though.”  

When she replied, her voice dropped to a husky near-whisper. “I think I can pony up enough to keep you happy.”  

Martin could visualize the smokiness in her eyes at the tone and it caused a hitch in his stride. “I bet you can.” There was a beat of heated pause. “Anyway, I’m sure we can keep busy. We can hang at my bachelor pad for some manly bonding.”  

Samantha groaned. “Just keep in mind that he’s too young for pizza and beer, okay?”  

Martin chuffed. “Well, there goes my lunch plan.” They both chuckled. “How’s it going?”  

Turning serious Samantha said, “Not sure yet. Teenage girl, twelfth hour, multiple scenarios. I don’t know.” She sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”  

“I hope you’re wrong, then.” In the brief silence that followed, Martin pursed his lips and then forced a smile. “Well, you better get to it. Don’t worry about Finn. Brian has my cell number, right?”  

“Yeah. Thanks, Marty.”  

“Love you.”  

“Love you, too.”  

Martin waited for Sam to disconnect before closing his cell. Turning his attention to the carefree, bouncing, near-toddler lifted his spirits. “Hang on a sec, bud, and we’ll go for a run and get some fresh air.”  

Once changed into a worn tee shirt, running pants and jacket he kept in his allotted drawer space, Martin retrieved his cross-trainers from the closet floor and returned to the living room. Dropping on the chair closest to Finn, he pulled on socks and tied his shoes and held a one sided conversation with the happy, burbling child.  

After several minutes and a bit amazed at how long it took, Martin had Finn changed again, dressed and the sport stroller unfolded and ready to go. He loaded the small pouch in the back with his flat badge and FBI identification, phone, wallet and off duty gun. Ever since he’d witness a boy’s kidnapping in front of a busy school while on a morning run a couple of years before, Martin always made it a point to be prepared.  

Now ready, he gathered Finn in his arms and pulled the sturdy stroller into the apartment hallway where he locked the door, added the keys to the pouch and headed to the elevator. Once on the bottom floor, he stepped out into the lobby and greeted two of Samantha’s neighbors just returning from their morning walk.  

“Hey there, Finn!” Mrs. Waverly cooed as she tickled the child’s chubby chin. The Waverlys seemed to be the classic grandparents – grey hair, kind faces and cheerful.  

“Good morning,” Martin said. “How are you two this morning?”  

“Great. Beautiful morning,” Mr. Waverly answered as he held the elevator door.  

“You ready for your Mama’s first Mother’s Day?” Mrs. Waverly asked Finn in a sing song voice before glancing at Martin with raised eyebrows.  

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Martin answered. “It’s covered.”  

“That’s great. The first one’s always the best.” She straightened and gave Martin’s arm a friendly pat. “Enjoy the day!”  

They exchanged good byes and Martin continued outside. Once the stroller was down the building’s front steps, he settled Finn in the stroller and moved off at a leisurely pace.  

Mr. Waverly was right – it was a beautiful morning. Martin kept an even stride and thought about Samantha and the current case; knowing there was one set of parents out there today that would be oblivious to the nice, spring day. Martin shook his head to clear it of the depressing scenario and, instead, turned his thoughts to future possibilities.  

He and Sam were nearing the six-month mark. His re-dedication to Narcotics Anonymous dictated that he shouldn’t be in a serious relationship for a year and the idea was one he struggled with constantly. They discussed it in early on and decided to tailor the program point by keeping separate households and limiting overnight stays. Not only was it a good plan for Martin, it made sense with young Finn in the picture. In the past half-year, a solid framework was in place between him, Sam and Brian. Right now, everything was perfect. At times, it seemed too easy and it made Martin wonder when the next shoe was going to drop.  

“One day at a time,” Martin reminded himself. “Live for the moment and see what the next six months bring.”  

Being Saturday, the sidewalk was clear and running with the stroller was easier than usual. Getting further along than he’d expected, Martin perked up as an idea struck. He changed course slightly, hopped over a couple of blocks and grinned when he reached his destination. He glanced at his watch and dropped down to a walk to catch his breath.  

“Hey, buddy, how about some shopping for Mom?” He peered over the top of the stroller and saw that Finn was sound asleep. “Not to worry. I’ll take care of it for you.”  

The block was a mix of businesses. It was just hitting nine o’clock and some of them were just opening. Foot traffic was light, which Martin appreciated as he pushed the stroller and window-shopped. The shops were small and quaint with many interesting things displayed in the windows, but none seemed quite right for Samantha until he reached the jewelry store.  

Martin paused and studied the shiny baubles behind the glass. The clerk was busy stocking and arranging the display window and Martin smiled a silent greeting. The older woman working inside nodded in return as she worked. When she reached in to place a ring on a plastic finger, Martin’s found his gaze drawn to a shiny bracelet encircling her wrist.  

He pointed at her wrist and the woman held up her arm. It was a gold charm bracelet heavy with various shaped charms. Martin remembered his mother having a similar thing. He looked up and the woman pointed to the other end of the display. A sign said “Remember Mother’s Day With Style” and it was set behind a several kinds of link bracelets and a few examples of charms.  

Martin knew Sam would love the idea. He tried the front door and found it locked. The woman pointed at the impressive grandfather clock inside that showed one minute until nine. He spent the time looking at the rest of the displays visible from the sidewalk, but nothing came close to the charm bracelet. Once the clock struck nine, Martin heard the door’s automatic lock disengage and the clerk pushed the door open for him.  

“Good morning!” She greeted.  

Checking Finn and seeing that he was still asleep, Martin entered the store. The woman wore an ID card on a neck lanyard that told him her name was Lena .  

“What a little darling,” Lena crooned as she looked at the sleeping boy’s face. “Are you shopping for Mom?”  

“Looks like it. Yes.”  

Lena directed him to the back of the store. “There are more bracelets and charms back here,” she said as she walked in that direction. Several glass display cases arranged in a circle held a variety of items.  

Lena walked through the center of the circle obviously meant for employees as Martin walked an outer path. Knowing Finn’s grabby, drooling nature, he was glad the boy was asleep and congratulated himself on his timing. It was as if the idea was fated. He snorted at the concept of Fate. “Never saw myself as a romantic,” Martin muttered.  

Once they arrived at the proper display case, Martin realized the decision would be more difficult than he first thought – not only were there at least a dozen bracelets to choose from, the number of charms in the case was mind-boggling.  

Lena must have noticed the flash of panic because she chuckled and leaned over the case to pat Martin’s hand in sympathy. “You concentrate on the bracelets.  I’ll put together a few charms for you that would be appropriate for the occasion. First Mother’s Day, I assume?”  

Martin nodded, grateful for the input. “Yeah. Thanks.”  

As Lena selected charms, Martin studied the chains and imagined how each would look on Sam’s slim wrist. After several minutes, he pointed out two of them and Lena placed them on the velvet tray along with her charm selections.  

“Now for the difficult part,” she said. She directed his attention to the first charm. “Here we have . . .”   

Martin glanced up at Lena ’s abrupt pause and straightened at her wide-eyed stare toward the front door. He followed her gaze as she gasped and the sound of shattering glass accented Martin’s instant realization of what was going down.  

CHAPTER TWO  

“GET DOWN!”  

Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw Finn startle awake, tiny arms flinging aside as his eyes shot open. Five figures streamed into the shop, clad in black from their full-face stocking masked heads down to their laced leather boots.  

Finn blinked in shocked surprise just before he burst into terrified tears from the noise. The first robber in smashed a second display cases and then strode to the center of the store where he leveled an automatic rifle at Lena . The next two robbers moved left and right, smashing cases as they moved.  Two more of the crew followed and grabbed display items, stuffing them into canvas bags.  

The lead robber on Martin’s side of the store stopped a few feet from him and pointed an automatic handgun at his face.  

It all happened in a few scant seconds. Martin aborted his initial lunge toward his stored gun with Finn’s hysterical screaming. Instead, he raised his hands and took a step sideways so he stood between the intruder and the boy. Lena gasped as if unable to breathe and immediately crouched to the floor, hands over her head.  

“I SAID GET DOWN!” The rifle wielding robber bellowed at Martin, jabbing the weapon toward him.  

“Okay, okay,” Martin said in a level voice. “I hear you.” He dropped to his knees, his chest still a barrier protecting Finn, maintaining eye contact with whom he assumed to be the leader. “Just take it easy!”  

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Becoming more agitated, the man shoved Lena aside with his booted foot and then quickly moved around her and stormed up to Martin leading with the rifle barrel. He stopped when the rifle tip was mere inches from Martin’s face.  

In those fleet tense seconds, Martin flicked his eyes to the next closest intruder, noting wide, green eyes fixed on something behind him. “Finn,” he concluded as his heart rate leapt – he also realized that they were the eyes of a woman and cold fear clutched his gut.  

Now the leader stepped between them, forcing Martin to tip his head back to see into the masked face. Smoldering dark eyes bore into him as the man stepped up and twisted, slamming the stock of the rifle to Martin’s temple.  

Someone screamed. Finn cried. Martin tipped aside, falling to the floor in a heap. Something deep inside rose up and he held on to consciousness with precarious tenacity. One arm flailed and found the stroller - he grabbed it, taking a determined hold. Stars whirled before his eyes as a dark edge narrowed his vision. He could hear loud voices arguing, the words jumbled.  

Martin brought his other hand around and clutched the stroller, using the sturdy frame to get his knees under him. Once upright, he blinked hard to clear his vision. The first thing he saw was blood spatter on his hands and Finn’s blanket. The little boy cried hard, his face screwed up and bright red. Martin hung on tight as his vision wavered.  

Something hit him hard between his shoulder blades and he tipped forward across the screaming baby. His head throbbed. It took a little time for him to realize that someone was talking to him and a few seconds longer to figure out the words.  

“Pick him up before I kill you where you are! PICK HIM UP AND SHUT HIM UP!”  

“Yeah, yeah,” Martin mumbled as he ordered clumsy fingers to obey. Finally, Finn was free and Martin pulled him close to his chest. “Shhh, shhh,” he soothed, even though the pain in his head made him want to vomit.  

A fist twisted into the back of his tee shirt and lifted him to his feet. Martin, fearful of dropping Finn, fought for balance. A body closed in on one side and physically propelled him forward and out the front door amidst more yelled orders and chaos.  

A dark SUV waited at the curb with the doors open and someone pushed Martin into the middle row bench seat with Finn safely enclosed in his arms. Once seated, bodies settle in on either side of him and he heard the doors slam closed. His head roared with pain. The vehicle leaped away and Martin screwed his eyes shut as a man in the front seat yelled, increasing the sharp throb in his head. Finn wailed, adding to the chaos in his head.  

“Shhh, shhh,” Martin crooned softly. He tipped his head and rested his cheek against the crown of Finn’s sweaty crown, hot from the child’s state. Martin kept his eyes closed and continued to utter quiet reassurances as he gently rocked in the tight space. He willed his own agony to subside.  

The SUV weaved wildly down the road and the yelling stopped, replaced by sharp orders. Martin heard the rub of material and the brush of shed clothing. Finn finally quieted, reduced to wet hiccups. When the throbbing subsided to something he could deal with, Martin opened his eyes and without lifting his cheek from Finn, looked around.  

There were six of them, two in each of the three rows of seats with him and Finn smack in the center. Their masks and black cover ups were gone and Martin noted their more colorful shirts. The one riding shotgun in front of him was the rifle-toting leader from the store.  

“Is he okay?”  

Martin turned to the person to his left and met the stare of the green-eyed woman. Her dark red hair was thick, wavy and long enough to brush the tops of her shoulders. A spray of freckles powdered her nose. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. 

Martin noticed the handgun still in her grip, resting across her lap.  “Could you point that somewhere else?” he growled, keeping his voice low to keep Finn quiet. He was relieved that the boy appeared to be dozing off from exhaustion.

The woman glanced down and seemed surprised to see the gun. She quickly tucked the weapon between her side and the door, out of sight. Then she reached out to brush Finn’s temple with her finger tips. “Is he hurt?”  

“Keep your hands off him,” Martin snapped, twisting just enough to deny her touch.  

“I wouldn’t hurt him,” she said, her gaze fixed on the sleeping child in a way that churned Martin’s stomach. “I wouldn’t . . .”  

“Shut up, both of you,” the man on Martin’s other side ordered. “What’s the deal, Sid?” Martin noted his shorn head and green shamrock tattoo on the side of his neck when he leaned forward to address the man riding shotgun. “I didn’t sign up for this shit!” Shamrock Man waved a hand at Martin and Finn. Finn tensed and his breath hitched, pushed to the edge of awakening.  

It happened so fast, it took Martin’s shattered senses a few heartbeats to catch up and realize that the redhead now held her handgun to Shamrock’s shiny temple. Her arm stretched out mere inches from Martin’s nose, so he pressed back into the seat and shielded the child with his arms.  

“You’re disturbing the baby,” the woman said in a low, dangerous tone. She pressed the muzzle into her partner’s skull and ground out, “Don’t. Wake. The baby.” She accented each word with a push of the gun. “Understand?”  

Shamrock nodded. Transfixed by the scene and the man’s reaction, Martin now realized what he was dealing with and it caused his blood to run cold. The redhead was insane.

The SUV traveled easily through the nearly empty streets for several minutes before slowing to enter a low-slung parking garage. They headed to a lower lever and parked near two mid-sized sedans. The driver turned off the ignition. The hot motor popped.  

“Okay now, let’s move,” Shotgun Sid ordered.  

The others exited the SUV in quiet order, leaving Martin and Finn. The red-head stood aside long enough for the last two to exit before stationing herself in the vehicle’s doorway, her gimlet eyes locked on the sleeping child. Martin shifted and glanced around. The others were splitting up between the two cars, dividing the loot into four backpacks.  

He had to take a chance now. Martin turned his attention to the woman.  

“Help him,” Martin said quietly. “Help me get him to safety. I know you don’t want him hurt but I don’t think your partners feel the same way.” She blinked. Her eyes flicked to Martin’s and then back to Finn. “His name is Finn,” Martin said. “I’m Martin.”

The woman swallowed hard. “Savanna,” she whispered. “I had a little boy . . .” Then she shook her head as if to clear her head and frowned. “Shut up!” She snapped, bringing the gun up to put Martin square in her sites. Her eyes sparked. “Shut the hell up!”  

Martin hugged Finn closer. “Okay, okay. You’re the boss, Savanna.”  

”Hey!” Sid barked as he threw a backpack in the silver car. “Let’s go, Van!”  

“Get out!” Savanna motioned for Martin to get out of the car using the gun.  

As he slid toward the open door, Martin quickly evaluated his surroundings. There was a smattering of cars in the structure but Martin hadn’t seen any people. An engine turned over on one of the two sedans and he heard it drop into gear as the door closed on the last of the three. Shamrock man sat behind the wheel.  

When Martin slipped from the SUV and stood, he saw an elevator bay a short distance away. Flanking it, the stairwell grabbed his attention.  

He moved without a second thought - he didn’t have the time to think. Every bit of Martin’s engrained tactical training kicked in when he bolted. There was plenty of cover with the scattered cars, building support posts and solid elevator shaft, but the addition of Finn’s small body was enough to slow Martin’s pace and shift his usual center of gravity.  

An outraged shout was quickly followed by several shots that echoed in the enclosed structure and hit closer than he liked; pieces of cement bit his face and neck. Hunched over Finn as he sprinted, Martin’s body protected the boy.  

“DON’T SHOOT! DON’T SHOOT! MY BABY!” A woman’s voice shrieked. He heard more yelling and scuffling movement as he hit the stairs.  

Martin pounded down the flights and focused on maintaining balance. Above, he heard squealing tires as a car left the scene and he tried to calculate timing – would he make it to an exit before the car?  

Finn stirred, jarred from a shocked state, his sudden squirming unbalancing Martin. Staggering sideways on the last step, he brushed a pillar hard with his shoulder. He sucked air in shock, knowing it was the birth of a spectacular bruise. His fingers tingled and his grip on the boy loosened involuntarily.  

“Ahhhh,” Martin breathed as he danced a lopsided path at the bottom of the stairs, nearly falling over his own feet. “Shit!” he hissed. Finn slipped downward and Martin had to stop and adjust his grip. His bruised arm felt numb and his head throbbed. Finn clutched his shirt and gasped spasmodically, red-faced and slick with sweat. “Shh, shhh,” Martin soothed as he tucked into the corner of the stairwell’s enclosure.  

He was on the bottom floor and the final door was right in front of him. He just had to get out of the stairwell and through an exit doorway. Martin spoke quietly and brushed back Finn’s hair as he tried to slow his own breathing and listen for pursuit. Although the gunfire had stopped, he could still hear racing engines and squealing tires. With the echo of his concrete prison, it was impossible to fix a direction.  

Martin held Finn close, noting the boy’s sudden silence, as he stepped through the stairway opening and scanned garage. A green “Exit” sign led his gaze to a bright rectangle of daylight about twenty feet away. He grabbed the opportunity and ran.  

If he had been alone, he would have made it, and the error of his estimation skidded to block him just shy of his escape. Martin managed to stop before running into the car and came nose to muzzle with a very large automatic handgun. The crazy redhead’s eyes locked onto Martin’s. She sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the hand wrapped around the gun’s grips. She leveled the weapon without a flinch through the open passenger’s window.  

“Get in,” she snapped. “I won’t miss at this distance.” Another engine roar echoed through the structure but the woman’s stare did not flinch. “They want you dead,” she added. “I want him. You’re forfeit.”  

“Okay, okay,” Martin, knowing he had no other option, opened the door and slid inside. The moment his door closed, his captor cranked the wheel and accelerated, leaving behind a smoking black semi-circle. Martin had to concentrate on bracing his feet to keep from flying sideways. That was when he noticed the blood spray staining the car’s interior and the woman’s profile.  

The car plunged toward the single exit. In is peripheral vision, Martin caught a frightening glimpse of another car coming toward them on his side at a sideswiping angle. All he could do was hunker down and do what he could to protect Finn.  

“Bastard.”  

The woman’s low voice chilled Martin’s bones. He happened to be looking at her as she spat the word and didn’t know what alarmed him more: Her cool and collected demeanor or the wicked smile and glittering eyes. She enjoyed this game. The seemingly befuddled woman from the jewelry store was long gone, replaced by a personality that scared him on many levels.  

Quickly, he twisted away from the window and bent over the boy. Almost immediately, he felt the car make one, sharp movement to the right and then both heard and felt a solid bump. He squeezed his eyes closed, amazed that his car’s path barely wavered. The other care, though, fared worse. He flinched at the sound of a loud, metallic collision, imagining their pursuer’s demise as his ride crashed through the flimsy exit gate relatively unscathed.  

As they raced away from the parking garage, the woman’s chuckle erased any hope Martin had for a peaceful conclusion to this situation.  

CHAPTER THREE  

Jack Malone snatched the phone from its cradle without raising his eyes from the report in front of him. He tucked the receiver between his shoulder and ear. "Malone," he said as he continued to read. "Yes, he's on my team."

Jack straightened as he listened, the report forgotten. He stood and held the phone to his ear in a tight grip. "What? How long ago?" He fumbled a pen and tugged a notepad from underneath the file. "Address?" He jotted something down. "I'll be right there." He dropped the receiver on the cradle and stared at it for a second. Then he looked up toward the bullpen across the hallway where he saw Samantha and Elena working at their desks.

The agents called Jack in when they gathered more leads than they could efficiently cover on their own. The pair was preparing to hit the field now that Jack was here to cover the phones and phone records – he could have called any of his other subordinates, but lately, his apartment seemed too empty. Slipping into the rotation was better than staring at the walls.

This new complication, though, required the rest of the team and he was relieved that he was here to take that particular call. As a result, precious time had been saved. He notified Vivian and Danny to come it, keeping the new information to himself. Mentally dividing the labor, he stepped into the bullpen directly into the path of his agents. Jack raised a hand to stop the two women from leaving. Puzzled, they stood before him with questioning eyes.

"Elena, stay here and brief Danny and Viv when they arrive. Sam, you're with me."

Something in the way he spoke derailed any questions and Elena nodded once, her head tipped in a quizzical way, before turning back to her desk. Sam simply shrugged and fell in step behind him. Once in the elevator, he faced her.

"There was an armed robbery at a jewelry store on Kensington Avenue," he said as the elevator door slid closed. "A smash and grab with five, possibly six, suspects. They left a shaken up clerk behind, unharmed."

After a moment, Sam frowned. "And? Does this have anything to do with the case?"

"No," Jack said lowly. "The suspects took hostages. A man and a baby. They were in the store at the time." Then he made a point to meet her eyes.

The apology she saw in his eyes was very familiar to Sam, and whatever she was going to say stuck in throat as wary panic tightened her features. "Martin's I.D. and gun were in the stroller that was left behind, Sam. It looks like they took Martin and Finn." The elevator came to a stop on the ground floor and the door slid open. Jack took Sam's elbow and turned her through the doors when it looked like she wasn't going to move on her own. Once in the hallway, he again turned her to look directly at his face.

"Oh, no," She choked, sagging against him. Jack took a firm grip on her forearms. "Finn . . ."

"Sam, look at me." Jack gave her a little shake. "Sam!"

When she finally looked at him, the depth of fear he saw in her brown eyes tore at his heart. "They were both alive. We have a partial plate. We'll find them. Focus, now."

Sam blinked rapidly, pulled free and swiped an errant tear before nodding. "Okay, okay. Let's go. I'm okay, Jack."

They jogged from the lobby to Jack's car and tore from the garage using lights and siren. Glancing aside, Jack saw Sam chew her lip for a moment and wipe her eyes again. "Brian was hung up at the airport," she whispered. "He was supposed to take Finn this morning. I should call him."

"Wait until we know more," Jack said. "I need to know more before I call Victor, too."

The ride to the scene was mostly in tense silence, both of them listening to the police radio chatter for any clues. When they arrived at the scene, Jack stopped just outside the yellow crime scene tape a half block away from the jewelry store. Samantha erupted from the car before he turned off the engine. She ducked under the warning tape and Jack had to jog to catch up to her. Together, they flashed their identification at the door of the small store.

Broken glass covered most of the floor, crunching under their feet. Investigators dusted the larger bits for prints. Photographers' cameras flashed amidst the murmur of the men inside. Jack saw two men standing near a trembling, seated woman. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue as she spoke. He headed in their direction but stopped when he realized that Samantha was not following him. Instead, she stood, frozen, staring at a three-wheeled jogging stroller parked in the back. There was blood spatter on the light colored wall behind it.

Jack gripped her elbow and broke the trance. "Let's see what they have." After a moment, she nodded and followed, looking decidedly pale.

"Officers, I'm Jack Malone." He showed in I.D. "This is Agent Spade."

"Detective Morris," the bigger of the two replied. "This is my partner Detective Wade. This is Lena Guiney. She was here during the robbery." As Lena nodded a greeting, Morris handed Jack a flat badge wallet with the familiar F.B.I. card inside. "This is your man?"

"Yes," Jack said. "Martin's been on my team for almost seven years. The baby is Agent Spade's."

"I'm sorry," the Detective said to Sam.

"Just tell me what you have." Her words were abrupt.

"The baby is yours?" Lena said, tilting her chin so she could look at Samantha. "Your husband did everything he could to protect your son. He kept him safe. Even after they hit him. . ." she choked.

"He's not . . . they hit Martin?" Sam asked, eyes wide. Before she lost it completely, Jack put a hand on her arm. She threw it off and turned on Morris with fiery eyes. "Show me everything you have. Everything."

"Is there video?" Jack asked, pulling Samantha back from Morris.

"In the office," Wade said. He gave Samantha a wary look.

Jack made a point of being between Sam and the detectives as they made their way to the back room. An officer sat at a computer screen of black and white images of the store area. "Play it," Morris said.

 The officer adjusted the screen and tapped on the keyboard. Jack watched as Lena silently greeted Martin at the front door. He could tell by Finn's posture that he was asleep as Martin pushed the stroller to the rear of the store. While Lena and Martin talked over one of the display cases, Jack stole a glance at Sam and saw her staring hard at the screen – only someone who knew her well could see the pain in her eyes.

Suddenly, the shop door opened and five people dressed in black stormed in. Jack found his attention drawn to Finn, now awake and weirdly silent in his obvious distress. He saw Martin start for the stroller storage bag, but change direction when he realized the threat was too close. He physically blocked Finn from the intruders. Sam caught her breath when the rifle slammed into Martin's head, in eerie silence.

"Oh, Martin," Sam said softly as they watched him fight off unconsciousness and continue to protect Finn with his body. When he was hit in the back, he continued to cover her son. Finally, after a tense few moments, Martin lifted the wailing boy to his chest. His unsteadiness was obvious, but Martin kept a firm hold on Finn as three of the suspects appeared to argue. Finally, they turned to leave, the final man prodding Martin with the rifle as he stumbled through the ruins. Dark lines of blood trailed down the side of his face and neck.

"The security camera at the front door got a partial license plate," Morris added. "We're checking now. We haven't had any similar MO. I have a feeling we're seeing the first of a series. They seemed well organized."

"I'll get some nationwide info for you," Jack offered. "Maybe it's just the first in this state. It looks like they are used to working together."

"They were arguing," Samantha said, almost successful in hiding the quiver in her voice. "Just before they left."

"Mrs. Guiney said they argued about the baby. This one," he pointed to the first thief to encounter Martin, "is a woman. She told the apparent leader – the one with the rifle – that she wanted the baby. Wouldn't leave without it. That's what the argument was about."

"But she couldn't carry him because she had the loot bag and a gun. That's why they took your man." Jack met Sam's frightened eyes as Wade spoke. "After they get where they're going, they won't need him anymore."

"Let's not jump ahead," Jack snapped. Then he took Sam's elbow and spoke quietly to just her. "We will find them. Can you do this? I need to know now."

Since her throat was tight with fear, Samantha replied with a mute nod and Jack gave her a sympathetic smile. When he turned to leave the scene, she followed on questionable legs; this was all so surreal. As they stepped into the street, there was a jump of activity and several officers sprinted to their cars. Jack snared one uniformed elbow and forced him to stop.

"What's up?" he barked.

"Reports of gunfire at a parking garage across town."

Jack released him. He and Samantha jogged to their car and followed the line of marked units. "Call Elena and give her an update on everything. They need to split up the duties."

Jack and Samantha seethed behind a row of black and whites enroute to the scene. When they finally arrived, red and blue light bounced off the moldy cement walls of an aged parking structure. Although a cracked, weathered sign announced "Weekends Half Price!" it was obvious the garage was mostly empty. Jack spotted the splintered exit barrier and, with the scare occupation, concluded that this was where the thieves switched cars. Eavesdropping on the PD's radio confirmed his evaluation when a description of a bullet-ridden, black SUV came over the air.

He also knew that Samantha was about to explode. She was as tense as a riled guard dog and just as subtle. "How long does it take to clear a scene, for God's sake?"

As if cowed into submission, a voice said over the air, "Scene secured. Let the EMT's in and see if those agents want in on this."

Neither of them waited for permission. They weaved between the marked units, up the short driveway and stepped into the dark interior. Samantha ignored the black and yellow striped bits of barrier arm and headed toward an obscene twist of metal that used to be a car, embedded into a cement pillar.

Jack rested his hand on Samantha's arm, ready to pull her aside if needed. He knew she shouldn't be here since it was unclear as to what was inside the wrecked car, but Jack knew it to be futile to try and hold her back. A hot, bitter scent of mixed engine fluids hung in the air as they approached the scene and Jack felt Samantha's step falter. A uniformed officer noticed their arrival and approached.

"Two men inside, both dead," he reported.

Jack nodded, feeling Samantha grip his hand as they peered into the car. Neither man was Martin. Sam's grip melted away and she circled the car with sharp eyes.

The officer pointed to the ceiling. "There are cameras, but they're turned off."

Jack took in the area with a snort. "No surprise. It doesn't look like upkeep is a priority."

Samantha stopped at the driver's side and looked inside again. "They aren't wearing black," she noted.

"Yeah," the officer responded. "There are black jumpsuits and ski masks in the SUV." He pointed at the ceiling. "Next level."

Jack scanned the car remains, the skid marks and the broken barrier arm. "Who ever they were chasing obviously got away. The barrier's broken outward and the skids indicate a sideways bump. Check what you can on the left, front bumper area for paint transfer."

The officer looked from Jack to the wreck and back again with a skeptical expression.

"Just do it," Jack snapped. Samantha pushed the officer aside and stormed toward the stairs. Jack retrieved one of his business cards from his suit pocket and stuffed it into the reluctant officer's hand before trotting after Sam. She was at the first landing between floors when Jack caught up with her. Side by side, they climbed to the next level in silence. When they stepped through the doorway into the parking area, Samantha stopped so suddenly, Jack nearly bumped her.

Surrounded by bullet-chipped walls, a body, dressed in a green Hawaiian shirt, sprawled on the cold deck. The red fleck pattern of the shirt was blood. Next to it, a black SUV stood with all the doors flung open. It, too, was marred with scattered bullet holes.

"Looks like quite a shootout." The tall officer that joined them had an air of tenured experience. "One live, one over there." He pointed to a small sedan with open doors. "Two bags of jewelry in the back. One in the car below."

"And one missing." Jack kept a sharp eye on Samantha as she wandered slowly though the scene. If she heard that one of the robbers was still alive, she didn't show it. Jack excused himself and moved to put his body between her and the suspect.

His timing was perfect. An EMT unit drove up and stopped where an officer indicated - just out of the crime scene. Samantha's head lifted and he saw her eyes narrow when she realized the possibility of a live target for her worry and anger. Jack knew the second she spotted the suspect when her eyes ignited. He grabbed for her elbow as she broke into a jog, but she slipped around him and Jack had to sprint to catch up. He was seconds too late as she wedged herself between two policemen and dropped to her knees. Her hand shot out and seized the man's neck, startling the officers.

"Where the hell is my son?" she demanded, leaning into the man's dazed face.

"Hey!" The policemen grabbed her arms and attempted to drag her off, but her pit bull grip on the suspect was unshakeable.

At first barely conscious, the suspect roused immediately to the attack. Blood blossomed from a vicious wound in his shoulder, rendering his right arm useless. Samantha shook him like a dog's chew toy and the arm flopped like a landed fish. His face paled to the color of paste under copious spatters of blood. Marble like eyes rolled in Samantha's direction and he gagged.

"Knock it off!" Jack ordered near her ear as he latched onto her wrists.

"Tell me, you piece of shit! Where's my son?"

Jack managed to pry her thumbs from the depths of the man's bloated jowls and peel her hands off, but he backed Samantha's play. "Telling us is the only hope you have to avoid the needle. Who has the boy?" The uniforms backed off for the moment, the double-teaming obviously taking them by surprise. Jack knew they had just a few seconds before forcible ejection from the area so he pushed the line. Leaning in, he said, "Tell me who has him or I will turn her loose and turn my back."

Bloodshot and watery, the man's eyes blinked in fear as he croaked, "Van. Savanna. And she's a crazy bitch."

"Savanna who?" Samantha barked. She'd stilled in Jack's grip, her hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

"O'Connell, I think. She's Sid's bitch."

The medics broke from their frozen state and pushed to their patient's side. "That's enough," one said with quiet determination. His eyes, though, showed sympathy with Samantha's situation.

"Sid who?" Jack demanded.

The bloodied suspect looked to the EMTs for support. One medic began treatment by attaching a blood pressure cuff and the other unwrapped sterile packing for the wound. As the second medic worked the bandage, he glanced between the suspect and the agents.

"SID WHO?" Jack repeated.

Free from the wrapping, the medic applied the thick pad to the injured area. After a moment, the EMT leaned heavily on the gaping wound. The suspect screamed but Jack still heard the medic's quiet voice near his patient's ear. "I suggest you tell him. There's a lot of bleeding here and I need to apply . . ." he leaned on the dressing again and the suspect yowled. ". . . lots of pressure."

"Radcliff! Sid Radcliff!" With the admission, the medic's attention became brisk and efficient. "Did you see that?" the man wailed. "I'll sue you all!"

Jack wrapped his arm around Samantha's shoulders and propelled her toward the exit.

"I didn't see anything," one of the patrolmen said to another as they agents passed. "What's he talking about?"

"Hell if I know. I'm way too busy documenting the scene," the other muttered.

Jack remained silent until they were on the stairwell. "I didn't mean for you to pick up my bad habits, too," he grumbled. Samantha ignored him as she called in the new information.

CHAPTER FOUR  

Time was a vague notion. A throbbing head and stinging eyes caused Martin’s focus to waver. One arm was numb and clumsy and the other tingled from exertion but somehow, he managed to keep them locked around the small boy in his embrace. Finn was oddly quiet and growing heavier.  

Their captor remained mostly silent, occasionally humming along with the country music twanging from the car radio. She raised no suspicion as she drove like an everyday soccer mom and Martin wondered if she was even aware of her situation. She had to be, because the one thing she had done was cover Finn with a jacket, quashing Martin’s hope that an officer would notice an unsecured infant in his lap.  

The darkness that dogged the edges of his mind was becoming difficult to ignore. Twice, his head nodded forward and he’d jerked back into awareness. Twice, the action lashed a fiery pain that shot through his head and down one arm. One eye had swollen shut. The jacket covering Finn held in the heat they both generated and now sweat made his shirt feel like a second skin. All of Martin’s mental energy focused on staying alert.  

The span of time could have been either minutes or hours when Savanna slowed the car and pulled off the road onto the dirt shoulder. Gravel popped the undercarriage and tattooed the bottom of Martin’s feet through the floorboard. He forced his head up and around and realized that he had no idea where they were, and what he did see was fuzzy. The lost time frightened him.  

Savanna put the car in park when it rolled to a stop, unbuckled her seatbelt and shoved her door open. Martin turned and squinted against the stinging glare stabbing his good eye through his window. He blinked to clear his sight and outside he saw that the ground eventually sloped sharply downward and beyond that, trees. There was no other traffic. Hope for help vanished in the tick of a second. A previously unnoticed hum dampened his hearing enough that when Savanna jerked his door open, Martin flinched in surprised. His gut tingled warning.  

Savanna pulled the jacket off Martin’s chest, balled it up and tossed it in the back seat. She huffed out a breath and then smiled when her gazed locked on Finn’s sweaty head. She held out her arms. “Give him to me.”  

Martin leaned away, back into the car, and instinctively tightened his hold on Finn. “No,” he said in a grating whisper, wincing at pain’s flare. Savanna’s hazy smile faded and she set her jaw and leaned in. Her hand shot out and slapped Martin’s cheek, and he thought his head would explode. Finn twitched, but did not waken.  

“Give him to me or I will kill you.” The circle of cold steel against his throbbing temple superseded the sting of his cheek. “You don’t want the boy to see his daddy die, trust me.”  

Something in the phrase caught his dubious attention. “Wait,” he insisted in a shaky voice as his brain tried to engage. “Wait . . .”  

“No. Get out. Now.”  

Finn’s squirming made Martin’s struggle to climb from the car both painful and difficult. When he finally stood on wobbly legs, he used the car for support. His stomach churned and he took several deep breaths of the cool air to recapture any sense of stability. The cold press of gunmetal against his temple finally relaxed when Savanna backed off a step to give them room. When her gaze locked onto Finn, the gun dipped and redirected to Martin’s knee.  

“You are going to drive now,” she told Martin in a calm voice as she stared at Finn. “I’ve missed holding my boy. I shouldn’t have let him go.”  

Martin sidled down a few steps along the side of the car to escape the gun’s line. “Where are we going?”  

“Home.” Savanna said dreamily, her unsettling gaze still locked on Martin’s precious bundle. The gun barrel drifted back toward his knees as if on automatic pilot.  

“Put the gun away first.” Martin managed to keep the rising panic from his voice. A shot of adrenalin muted his pain and sharpened his vision, but his head still felt like a bag of mud and broken glass. He needed a plan, and fast – stalling tactics wouldn’t last long. “You need both hands.”  

Savanna frowned at that idea and when a few seconds that ticked by, the sure and maniacal woman shifted back to the overwhelmed girl from the store. Martin didn’t trust his eyes, but somehow Savanna now appeared to be barely an adult.  

“Both hands,” she repeated in a whisper. “Yes, both hands.” She tucked the gun into the waistband at the small of her back and wiped her hands on her jeans. “Both hands so I don’t drop him. Don’t drop the baby.”  

Her tone was soft and eerie. As Martin’s muddled, frantic mind tried to come up with his next move, he heard the tires-on-asphalt sound of an approaching vehicle. They both looked up the road and Martin’s heart skipped when he saw a police car swing around the curve in the road. He glanced at his captor to gage her response. Savanna blinked, and in that second, any sign of weakness disappeared when her features hardened. She managed a smooth motion to recover her gun and pull Martin to her side so their closeness concealed the weapon.  

The black and white unit pulled in behind their car and stopped. Martin felt Savanna’s warm breath on his cheek and before giving him a light kiss, she said, “Don’t say anything or I will shoot.”  

A single trooper exited the vehicle. He adjusted his gun belt as he eyed the car and then set his sights on the pair. “Having some trouble?” he asked. He closed his door and started toward them, crossing between the two cars. Martin could hear faint rhythm of chatter on the police radio and noticed the spiral cord that trailed behind the officer’s ear - the earpiece made it impossible to eavesdrop on the radio traffic.  

Crunching gravel marked each step as the trooper approached. Although he wore sunglasses, Martin knew that he was evaluating both of them and that the officer noticed Martin’s disheveled appearance. The man’s approach was careful - his hand rested lightly against his holster.  

“Hi.” Savanna greeted the trooper with a smile. “We’re fine, sir. Twisty roads give me a stomach ache so we took a break. We were just about to leave.”  

The trooper stopped about eight feet away and his head tilted aside, listening. Parallel lines furrowed between his eyebrows as he glanced at the car again, and Martin knew the exact moment the trooper realized what was before him when he went for his side arm.  

Savanna was faster.  

Instinct and training took over and Martin moved without cognizant thought, the sole need to find cover driving him to the shoulder’s edge. His mind registered a shout a fraction of a second before gunfire. He lost footing at the crest of the slope and fell, managing to twist just enough to hit hard on his hip and the length of his leg - for a moment, he saw stars and his head felt like molten metal. Holding Finn, who startled awake at the first shot, Martin felt the burn as he slid to the bottom where he struggled to his feet and dashed into the embrace of trees nearly blind from pain.  

Several twists between the close cluster of trunks put them out of sight, but the POP!POP!POP!  of gunfire pushed Martin forward. Finn screamed and clutched Martin’s shirt, pinching skin beneath, but the pain was negligible compared to the blossom of agony awakened in Martin’s skull. Still, he pressed on without any sense of time or place and functioned with a frightening narrow field of vision that sliced through ever pressing darkness. His only hope was widening the distance between them and Savanna.  

Finn’s screaming was all he heard. Martin’s shoulders brushed the trunk of several trees that seemed to jump into his path, each strike interrupted Finn’s wail with a quivering “Uh!” Finally, one hard hit jarred the boy into sniffling silence where he took bizarre solace in sucking wetly on his tiny fist.  

After splashing through a narrow, muddy run of water that could only kindly be called a creek, Martin slowed, gasping. He only paused a moment, and then took three steps before his right shoulder winged off a tree hard enough to spin him in a tight circle. Stumbling to keep balance, Martin’s back slammed into another tree and he slipped down along its rough bark, collapsing into an ungainly sit at its base among a cluster of root humps.  

Martin panted. Every intake of are burned his chest and caused the hanging shadows shrouding his vision to throb and pulse. He was sure the unnatural weight of his head would make him topple so he pressed back against the tree trunk. When his breathing eased a little, Martin tipped his head sideways just enough to check Finn.  

He didn’t like the shocky look of the child. Healthy pink cheeks had bleached to a waxy paste color and his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. One tiny hand snared Martin’s sweaty t-shirt in a panicked grip and he still sucked on the fisted knuckles of his other hand. He was shiny with sweat, his hair plastered to his head like a skullcap. Fear of dehydration made Martin’s heart flutter – Finn needed liquids. His diaper also needed changing. He brushed the boy’s hair back and dropped a kiss on the crown of his head. . “Shhhhh,” Martin crooned softly before trying to stand again.  

Martin failed in his effort to rise and run. His legs quivered and felt like rags. Finn began to squirm and grunt, spitting out his fist to protest.  

“NononononNONONOOOO!”  

A new fear blossomed in Martin’s mind - he couldn’t let Finn get away from him, but his body was beginning to fail. He had to come up with a way to keep the boy with him. 

“Shh, shhh, it’s okay,” Martin murmured through a desert-try throat as he ordered his rebelling arms to hold the child closer. When he rested his cheek on Finn’s head to comfort him, Martin’s one-eyed gaze landed on his own feet. The shoelaces of his running shoes caught his attention and a solution came together in his mind.  

Martin drew his legs in and crossed them, making a nest of sorts for Finn and bringing his shoes within reach. Clumsy fingers of one hand worked to free the laces while the other hand kept Finn tethered. The effort did not help to dampen his pounding head; in fact, Martin was sure an alien was trying to break out of his skull as he worked. He chuffed a dry laugh at the idea and became suddenly aware that his thought process had taken a bizarre turn. He mentally regrouped.  

It seemed to take forever to remove the laces. Martin had to pause several times to keep Finn from escaping his lap and the child’s verbal protests did little to help Martin’s headache, but he finally freed the strings and even managed to tie them together into one long strand after several fumbled attempts. He had to stop, though, when sudden nausea twisted his gut and he was instantly awash in a chilling sweat. Martin turned his head and fought down a dry retch. “Could this get any worse?” he thought, eyes streaming tears as he squeezed them closed against the pain. For the first time, he wondered if he’d done the right thing by running.  

A tendril of doubt wormed through the dark agony of Martin’s exquisite pain and a feeling of defeat washed over him. He took a fortifying breath that seemed to quell the nausea and calm his trembling hands. Slowly, he worked to make a slip knot and finally slipped the shoelace loop over one wrist and tightened it. It was no small feat when trying to subdue an unhappy baby at the same time. With that done, all that remained was to attach the other end to Finn, but he slumped back against the tree instead, bereft of energy. “Just a short rest,” he thought, focusing his wavering concentration fully on keeping a grip on Finn’s wet, dirty Onesie.  

Aware of descending shadows and his drift toward unconsciousness, Martin fought to find that deep reserve of drive to keep going. His search jump-started with a surge of adrenalin when he heard a soft voice nearby.  

“I thought I’d lost you.”  

***************************

There are a million tragic stories out there in the real world and those tales crossed the path of the Missing Person’s Unit more often than not. Innocent people confronted circumstances that changed their lives in a second or a day, or occasionally fell into a long string of events that took them so far off the path of what society considered normal that they never even knew they strayed until they arrived at the horrific end.  

Danny was well aware of this phenomena, but sometimes - and he would rather it was sometimes than often - he came across an event that was too heinous for him to grasp. As he read the papers in his hand, he wished he’d never seen it; this one would stick with him for a long time and his only exposure was reading an eight-year-old report. He pitied the officers that handled the incident, the medics that cleaned up the scene, and he especially pitied the individuals at the center of the mess. Some things should never happen to anyone, but it happened to Savanna O’Connell.  

“What’s the matter, Danny?” Elena’s touch was gentle on his hand. It was then that he noticed his hand trembled. “Are you all right?”  

Danny looked up into his wife’s smoky eyes and visions of Sofie playing crossed his mind. He silently prayed that their life together would never be scorched by anything even remotely similar to the events the report brought to life in his head. He closed the folder and took her hand, squeezing it affectionately. “Yeah,” he finally replied. “Yeah, I’m okay. Savanna O’Connell, though, is not.”  

Elena cocked her head and frowned. “What do you mean by that?”  

He held the folder close to his chest without realizing it, protecting his beautiful bride from its ugliness. Ultimately, he knew that he couldn’t keep it from her. “Here.” He forced himself to hand the folder over. “I need to brief Jack.”  

Danny stepped around Elena and headed to his desk phone. As he punched out Jack’s number, he watched his wife open the folder and flip through the pages to the photos at the end. One hand instantly covered her mouth as her brain registered what she was seeing. Shock knocked her back a half-step.  

This one would stick with all of them for some time. Danny sighed as he dialed. Not only was it personal, it was a tragic story that did not yet have an end. All they could do was endure it together, do their job to the best of their ability and pray that they could make a difference.   

***************************

 Across from him, slouched against a tree in an awkward-appearing sit, Savanna panted and watched the little boy with tender eyes. She still had a gun, but her hand rested palm up in the dirt at her side and the silver weapon sat in an open grip. Occasionally, her fingers twitched. Her other hand pressed against her stomach and blood stained her skin and blouse.  

She was pale, Martin thought, and he wasn’t sure why she didn’t come closer. He tried not to dwell on it, but an unwelcome coldness was creeping up his limbs, the sharp, piercing ache in his head was getting worse and his one-eyed vision was fading in and out, so, at this moment in time, Martin didn’t really trust his judgment. He was tired and terrified that he would miss something and Finn would be lost.  

“Michael,” Savanna said in a voice as soft as the breeze. “He’s so beautiful. I see him -”  

Martin blinked his good eye in an effort to focus on the woman. He couldn’t take anything for granted when Finn’s safety was at risk. It was difficult, though, to keep Finn close and corralled, but if he could attach the shoestring to him . . .  

“I shouldn’t have dropped you. Don’t drop the baby.”  

The woman’s muttering was an odd comfort to Martin. If she talked, he could track her location without having to keep his eye on her and work with the shoestring. The damn shoestring, that seemed to have a mind of its own; it was like trying to thread a wet noodle through a wiggling button hole. He frowned, wondering where that idea came from.  

“I’m coming baby. Mommie’s here.” Savanna’s voice hitched. Martin shook his head to regain focus and glanced her way. He saw the sun flash on a tear as it rolled down her cheek. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

Martin had a remote thought that maybe he should feel sorry for her, but he couldn’t dredge up the emotion. It was her fault Finn was here in the first place.  

“I shouldn’t have dropped you. I shouldn’t have let you go. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”  

Something in her tone begged Martin’s attention. He paused and watched, and with one especially deep sigh escaping her pale lips, Savanna seemed to collapse inward. Her shoulders drooped and her body shifted slightly, taking the posture of a boneless rag doll. Her head tiled aside as life fled with a final, rattling breath, her empty gaze fixed on Finn writhing in his lap.  

Martin swallowed hard and then took in a shaky breath. Now Finn’s safety rested squarely on his aching shoulders and Martin couldn’t deny the fear he felt with the realization. Even though she had been “the enemy”, she had also been an extra set of eyes on the child. Now, Martin felt strangely abandoned. Clenching his teeth with resolve, he returned to his chore. His vision pulsed with his heartbeat, casting a higher level of difficulty to the chore.  

Finn wiggled and wailed, perhaps sensing Martin’s spike of fear. “Hey, now, settle down,” he muttered. His voice sounded far away. “Shh. Mom’ll be her soon.” He just wondered if he’d still be conscious by then.  

That frightening thought renewed his effort to tether his charge before the darkness overwhelmed him.  

CHAPTER FIVE

Jack drew a thumb and forefinger across closed eyelids and then pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Bureaucracy was going to kill him someday. He stood there for a moment - eyes closed, pinching his nose - and listed to Sam berate yet another uniformed officer, her third in the past three hours. He couldn’t really blame her since all they could do for the moment was wait, and waiting really and truly sucked. No more evidence would come from this scene.

Jack finally moved when his phone trilled. He plucked it from his pocket and growled, “Malone” at the same time he grabbed Sam’s elbow and pulled her off the stuttering policeman just before she poked his chest with her finger – a sure way to be thrown out of the loop.

“What?” she snapped, turning on Jack as he dragged her toward their vehicle.

“Hold on, Danny, I’m putting you on speaker.” Then he turned to Sam. “Get in the car.”

Jack slipped behind the wheel with a sigh as Sam tromped around the car and dropped in the passenger seat frowning, eyes ablaze and jaw set in a stubborn angle. Through all the posturing, Jack still saw the fear that dwelled in her eyes so he gave her a mental bye.

He pressed a button on the phone and then held it in his open palm between them. “Okay. Go, Danny.”

“Savanna O’Connell came from upstate via the foster care system. She entered the system when she was ten after her father beat her mother to death and then killed himself in their living room, in front of her. Blew his brains out. When she aged out of the system, Savanna managed to get her GED and then got a job with a cleaning company, where she hooked up with Austin Green, the boss’ son, and got pregnant.”

Jack snorted. “The great American love story.” Sam gave him an angry glare and he threw a hand up. “Sorry.”

“Anyway, the boss and Austin had a falling out over it, so Savanna and Austin moved in together in an apartment they could afford in the city. On minimum wage, you can imagine what that was like.”

“Borrowing a cup of sugar from pushers, hookers and pimps,” Jack said.

“Yeah. Just so happens there was a meth lab two floors under ‘em. One day, about seven months after Savanna had baby Michael, the lab exploded. Austin was killed.”

Jack glanced to Sam and saw an unsure flicker in her eyes; he imagined she mentally put herself in Savanna’s place. Jack had a bad feeling about what Danny would report next.

“Apparently, she was trapped upstairs with a few others. Before the fire rigs arrived, people jumped from the upper floors into a blanket held by a group of rescuers. After a lot of encouragement, she finally dropped the baby. They caught him, but then there was a second explosion and she watched Michael and all his rescuers burn right under her window. We have the coroner’s photos. Pretty grisly.”

Sam uttered a sick noise and Jack looked over. With her chin tucked to her chest and her fist pressed against her lips, she looked as if she was trying not to vomit. She cleared her throat and stared at some spot on the dashboard. Jack turned his attention back to the phone.

“Where did she go after that?”

Danny sounded a little on the shaky side himself. “She fell off the grid after that. A couple of drunk in public arrests, one stint in County Mental Health for evaluation but that’s it.”

“Until now. Any idea who she hooked up with before Sid Radcliff?”

“Not really. They identified the bodies at the parking garage. . .”

“I don’t give a crap about three dead crooks. She has Finn!” Sam’s determined attitude had returned, twofold. “Where is she going, Danny? Anything in that file about that?”

“Sam,” Jack’s calm tone did little to help.

“Shut up, Jack! Danny?” The slight edge of desperation in her voice kept Jack from responding to the slight with more than an eyebrow arch.

“The only place listed is her original home, upstate. She’d have to take Highway 87. It’s in the sticks near Hillburn. Aside from that, she’s listed as a transient.”

“Let’s go.”

“Sam,” Jack said. “We don’t know . . .”

“Just go, Jack!”

“Sam! Stop!” Jack grabbed her hand and squeezed, and then gave it a sharp tug to get her attention. Sam pulled free, crossed her arms across her chest and sat back with a furious glare. “We need more information. You know that.” Her posture did not soften. He turned aside, regrouped and spoke to Danny while keeping a sidelong eye on Sam. “Get any names associated with that house. Contact local law enforcement and make sure they’re keeping a lookout.”

“Will do, Boss. Sam? Hang in there.”

After a moment, she replied in a near apologetic tone, “Thanks, Danny.”

Jack flipped the phone closed and kept his eyes on Samantha. Several seconds passed before she deflated visibly. “Sam,” he started.

He saw her conflicted eyes flick toward something behind him just before there was a knock on the driver window. He turned the key and rolled the window down to speak to the detective waiting outside the car.

“There’s a report of an officer down at a shooting off Highway 87. Suspect car comes back matches the description of the car that fled this scene.”

Samantha bolted upright in her seat. “Savanna. Let’s go!”

Jack started the car and accelerated from the scene as soon as the detective stepped clear. His cell rang as they hit the main road and he handed it over to Samantha. She glanced at the screen, flipped it open and snapped, “What do you have?”

She relayed Danny’s information as they drove and Jack was relieved that she had something to do during a drive that was going to be too long, no matter how far they were going.

Thanks to their car’s emergency lights, they arrived at the achingly familiar yellow barrier tape in good time. The plastic ribbon stretched across the roadway prior to a long turn and they didn’t see anything of the scene until they cleared security and rounded the curve on foot.

Red and blue lights pulsed over the collection of cars and people, washed out by the day’s light. A tan sedan sat on a wide, dirt shoulder sporting several bullet holes in the trunk lid and parked behind it, the marked police vehicle’s windshield was shattered. Uniformed officers mingled with plain-clothes detectives that had bullet proof vests thrown over their suits.

Jack easily spotted the scene supervisor by the way the others deferred to him, so they headed toward him with purpose. Once Jack stood before the man, he realized Samantha was not on his heels. He found her with a glance, standing between the sedan and the slope of the shoulder, staring into the woods. Jack turned to the supervisor and flashed his identification.

“Jack Malone. My agent was in that car.”

Dark eyes leveled with Jack’s. “Sergio Alvarez. My officer’s in the emergency room.”

“Prognosis?”

Apparently, Jack portrayed an acceptable amount of concern because Alvarez nodded shortly and replied. “He was wearing his vest. Bullets clipped his neck and thigh, but he was center-punched. He’ll be okay. He says he hit the girl. Looks like your agent – Fitzgerald? – took off into the trees. So did the girl.”

“Did you know he had a baby with him?”

“Yes. We’ve been in contact with the jewelry store detectives.”

Loud voices drew their attention, and they turned and saw Samantha getting into a detective’s face.

“Um,” Jack said, turning back to Alvarez to get his attention. “Blood trail?”

Alvarez nodded, his hard stare still on Samantha. “We’re waiting for a dog unit. I’d appreciate it if you’d do the same.”

“I’ll talk to her.” Jack turned to go, but Alvarez’ next question stopped him.

“She related to your agent? Director Fitzgerald has the same temper.” Alvarez rubbed his ear as he held his cell phone aloft.

Jack had to chuckle at the query. “Not by blood. It’s her baby.”

Alvarez turned that over in his mind and then nodded. “Keep her in line or I’ll have to remove her from the scene. Picaro here will keep you updated.” He indicated his right hand man with a nod, and quickly introduced Jack.

“Thanks. We’ll behave.”

As Jack departed to intercept Sam, he saw the dog unit arrive. An excited German Shepard jumped from the car, tongue lolling as he looked brightly to his handler for orders. Sam’s greeting wasn’t anywhere near the animal’s cheeriness; she glared at Jack’s approach so he sidled in next to her and kept his tone low but firm. “Rein yourself in or we won’t be joining them.”

“They haven’t followed yet. The trail’s clear . . .”

Slipping his hand into the crook of her elbow, Jack didn’t back down. “And she’s armed and tried to kill one of their own. They can’t be too careful.”

For the first time, Sam’s eyes glittered with threatening tears and she was unable to speak. She ducked her head and fought for control. Jack could feel her trembling. Finally, she cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “Is the officer okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll recover. And now that the dog’s here, they’re going into the woods. We can go, but you have to back off, Sam. Understand? We will find them.” She nodded and allowed Jack’s embrace. Jack was encouraged to feel her relax in his arms.

Twenty minutes later, when they assembled for the sweep search, Samantha looked like a poorly contained explosion. Armed officers stretched out in a ragged line, awaiting orders to move forward. A fruitless helicopter survey could not see through the tree crowns, but it was able to establish a perimeter with the help of additional dogs. Somewhere in the woods ahead, Finn, Martin and Savanna waited.

Samantha tried not to torture herself with imagined scenarios, but it was impossible. Since her arrival, the woods had been quiet. No shouting, no shooting, no crying and as every mother knew, too quiet was a bad thing.

Focused on Savanna’s blood trail, the dog and his handler finally moved off into the trees. Samantha allowed one other officer between her and the canine unit, and no one disputed her claim to the spot.

At first, she followed the trail with ease and wondered at the necessity of the dog. As they progressed, however, and the line of officers staggered into a loose line, and the trail became nearly invisible but the dog pushed confidently forward. Sam, Jack and the handler became the point of a wedge as they led the way. The rocky, brushy and root laden habitat took its toll and bent the line further. It was eerily quiet.

They came to a muddy run of water. On the near side, mud held footprints. On the far side, a thick carpet of leaves revealed nothing. The dog hesitated, circling at the water’s edge. Sam heard Jack’s heavy breathing but was unaware of her own as she stared at the dog. Finally, the animal headed upstream and Jack started to follow.

Sam, however, looked beyond the water - the dog’s direction didn’t feel right. Jack stopped and turned back.

“Coming?” he asked. The others brushed by, ignoring them. “Sam?”

“That way,” she said, taking a small jump to clear the water. Jack followed immediately and jogged to catch up as she pushed onward.

“I don’t suppose you noticed that the dog doesn’t agree with you.”

“The dog’s looking for Savanna. I’m looking for Martin.” Her voice caught. She cleared her throat, ducked under a low branch and immediately stopped. Jack bumped her shoulder before he could stop. “Look.” She pointed to a flat spot in the leaves next to an older tree.

Before Jack could comment, Samantha strode forward to the crushed leaves, glanced around, and followed a path that she internally recognized as instinctual. She felt Jack’s presence on her heels and was comforted by his support.

The trail was clear in her eyes and distinct in its consistency. In her mind’s eye, Sam visualized Martin using the tree trunks as concealment, his path zigzagging with purpose but slowly degrading in subtly as he tired. It tore at her heart to see the degradation; Martin’s growing desperation felt like a band tightening around her lungs. Panic blossomed deep inside, demanding release. Sam slowed, staggered, and fell against the rough bark of a tree where she clutched for support and tried to breathe. A dry sob escaped and her nails dug into the wood to keep her upright.

“Hey! Samantha!”

Jack’s voice seemed far away even though she felt his warmth supporting her. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and he whispered condolences that she didn’t hear because something else called to her in the background. She shifted, turning her face away from Jack and toward a noise that simply didn’t fit the circumstance.

“Take a breath. Come on, you’re okay. . .”

“Shhhh!” she hissed, pushing away from the tree and standing firm. “Quiet!”

Shocked, Jack took a half-step back and froze with one hand on resting on her shoulder and the other suspended between them in an interrupted motion. She heard the frown in his voice. “What?”

She frowned, tilting her head slightly as her lips pressed into a tight line. She forced her muscles to relax. “I don’t . . .” she whispered, fighting to hang on to the faint noise. “Shh . . . hear that?”

Jack scanned the trees with a tentative expression. “I don’t -“

Deaf to his voice, Samantha bolted.  With each step the elusive noise became clearer until it was undeniable and only then did she realize that Jack was on her heels. She heard him demanding caution but, driven by another instinct, ignored him.

“Finn!” she choked as the child’s weak cry became clear. Crashing through a wild hedge, Sam’s toe caught in a tangle of branches and Jack’s firm grip on her shoulder was the only thing that kept her from falling to her knees. Time seemed to slow as she paused to let her mind grasp the scene before her that slowly broke her heart.

Savanna O’Connell sat at the base of a thin tree, her dull, unseeing eyes visible between half-closed lids. Her hands, loosely clasped together and resting limply in her lap covered with the same dark blood that stained her shirt. Wild red hair framed her lifeless face. Dark flies dotted her chest, agitated with the disturbance of Sam’s arrival.

Martin sat on the ground across from her, cross-legged in the mass of another tree’s roots. He leaned back against the substantial trunk; one arm draped across his lap while the other stretched out to the side and bobbed unnaturally, the wrist bent sharply and his hand swaying in rhythm with his arm. Samantha’s heart fluttered, trapped within her ribcage.

“Martin,” Sam choked, taking a wobbly step closer. His swollen, closed eyes gave the appearance of sleep because his color told her he was alive. Where Savanna’s face was a cold, pasty white, Martin’s flushed pink and warm with life. The blood trail from scalp to jaw line was bright red instead of ominous dark.

Then the faint cry that called her to this place urged time engage and Samantha stumbled forward. “Finn?” After a few more steps, he came into sight and her heart soared again. Her son, trying to crawl away from Martin, was at the end of a shoe-lace tether and frustrated; his tugs caused Martin’s lax arm to bob. His mother’s voice made Finn give up his escape attempt. He pushed back into a peeved sit. Seeing her made him reach up and start crying indignantly for her to fix this situation.

Sam laughed hysterically once through her tears and scooped him up. He was filthy, sweaty and generally annoyed, but unharmed. He relaxed against her shoulder after he found his fist and jammed it in his mouth. She held him close, gently bouncing him into instant, exhausted sleep.

Once Jack confirmed that Savanna was indeed dead, Sam turned back to Martin and kneeled next to him. Jack squatted at his other side and checked his pulse, forehead and temple. “He’s got quite a knot here. Probably caused the black eye. He’s hot.”

With Samantha kneeling close, Martin’s arm now lay quiet at his side. Jack lifted his hand and picked at the shoestring noose. Sam noticed that Martin’s hand was a purplish color.

“His hand,” she noted, finally following the string line to Finn. The shoestring ran up one sleeve, against the back of Finn’s shoulders under the cotton Onesie, and out of the other sleeve. The cloth gathered at the knot between his tiny shoulder blades. The other end of the lace fought against Jack as he worked to loosen its hold on Martin’s wrist.

“He made sure Finn wasn’t going anywhere,” Jack grumbled. “Ah.” Finally, the string slipped away. Jack rubbed Martin’s hand between his. “I think he’ll be okay. I’ll call the medics.”

Sam ran her fingers through Martin’s hair and didn’t bother to fight back grateful tears. She didn’t feel the dry, crusty blood or the gritty dirt or even the sticky dried sweat that made it a tangled mess; all she felt a surge of love that stole her voice warmed her heart.

After a few heartbeats passed, she finally found words. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she leaned in, kissed his hot cheek and rested her forehead against his. With Finn tucked safely to her breast and Martin so close to her heart, she closed her eyes and finally felt at peace. “I love you so much.”

Jack must have noticed her loss of composure because he rose and took a step back, giving her a few moments of peace while he called off the search.

CHAPTER SIX

The pair's temporary moment of peace was broken with the arrival of the core search team following Savanna's circuitous route. Samantha attempted to stay by Martin's side as she cuddled Finn, but was forced to step back to avoid waking her son. She paced a short track a short distance away and tried to eavesdrop on the rescue personnel's rapid discussion. At one point, she realized that their hovering and tone of voice indicated that Martin was worse off than she or Jack knew. A scant few seconds after the realization, Jack pulled her back even farther from the busy crowd.  

"But wait! What are they saying? Jack?" Finn tensed in her arms, threatening to wake.  

Jack took both of her forearms in his grip and caught her gaze. "You're going to wake up Finn. You need to calm down."  

"But Martin . . ." She tried to see around Jack's broad shoulders.  

"I'll find out what's going on. You concentrated on Finn, Sam. You need to be calm. Hear me?" He waited until he had her full attention, and then waited for her sharp nod.  

Samantha took a deep breath and watched Jack approach the rescue team. A medic toting a huge white box with a red cross painted on the top weaved his way through the trees and joined the team. She felt helpless as they rapidly worked and exchanged information – there was something about Martin's eyes and vital signs that seemed to cause them worry. She chewed on her lower lip, trying not to scream, and waited none-too-patiently for Jack to return.  

When a few of the team members broke away and jogged toward the road, Sam watched them depart with narrowed eyes. Her alarm then skyrocketed when she heard an approaching helicopter. Were they airlifting Martin?  

She felt Jack's return when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and directed her along the same return path as the rescue members.  

"The chopper's for Martin, isn't it? That means he's bad, right?"  

Jack spoke in an even tone as he propelled her along the trail. "They're just being careful. They don't like the fact that he hasn't responded. His vital signs aren't stable."  

"What? His vitals? Are there new injuries? He was running!" Planting her feet, Samantha tried to turn back but Jack pushed her forward.  

"You'll get your answers at the hospital but if you want to get there anytime soon, keep moving. There was a cut along his back that's probably a bullet graze, but it's not serious."  

"His back?" Sam's stomach fluttered with awakened butterflies. "He was protecting Finn. . ."  

Jack's voice softened. "Yeah, that's what I figure. Do you want to go in the ambulance with Finn or let me drive both of you?"

He had to ask twice before she answered. By then, he was helping her up the slope to the road and informing the investigators to save their questions for the hospital. Sam heard all of it through a thick fog of worry – how bad was Martin? She couldn't even form the idea of Martin dying – it just couldn't happen. It couldn't.  

She snapped back to the present situation when Jack pushed her into the sedan. Her heart raced as Jack slipped behind the steering wheel and she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her dry throat squeezed closed. The car trembled in the helicopter's rotor wind and a puff of debris billowed over them. Outside the car, the others turned their backs to the mild buffeting as the craft settled on the closed roadway like a great bird on its nest. Medics jumped down with a Stokes basket and trotted into the woods.

The scene then receded in Samantha's view as Jack pulled away and things grew fuzzy as her eyes burned with tears. She already felt lost without Martin at her side.  

***************************

Danny parked in the hospital lot, grateful that their current missing person made it easy for them by using their credit card to by junk food. The case closed quickly after that and Vivian volunteered to wrap up the paperwork which allowed Danny and Elena join their teammates at the hospital. So far, they knew far less than they wanted and Danny needed answers.  

The Emergency Room wasn't a busy as it could have been and Danny had an unpleasant flash of déjà-vu from the last time he was here for Martin. He absently rubbed his forehead as he scanned the waiting area for a familiar face and spotted Jack at the admission window. Danny touched Elena's elbow and steered her in their boss' direction.  

"Jack," Elena called as they approached. When he looked up, Danny didn't like what he saw. "How's Finn?"  

"Hey," Jack grumbled. He looked tired. "Sam's back there with him now." He flicked a wrist in the direction of the exam area. "He looked good when we found them. A little dirty, tired and hungry but otherwise, good. They should be out soon."  

"What about Martin?" Danny asked, the unsettling déjà-vu still hanging on his mind.  

Jack pursed his lips and shrugged. "Don't know yet. He arrived a little ahead of us and we haven't seen him. Be forewarned, his parents should be here soon. I hope to get more information before they get here, but as far as I know, he's got a head injury that's worrying them."  

"If Finn's alright, maybe Sam will let me take him home so she can stay with Martin," Elena said. She glanced to Danny, who nodded in agreement. "But I can understand if she doesn't want to let go of him quite yet."  

"I'll tell her. Stay here, I'll be right back." Jack flashed his badge and the door to the exam area buzzed, allowing his entry.  

Unable to sit, Danny and Elena elected to stand in an area that let them view the main entrance and the door to the exam rooms. Elena sighed and hooked her arm in Danny's elbow.  

"I hate this," she said.  

"Me too," Danny muttered. "I feel completely useless."  

"You're not completely useless," Elena soothed. "You're my solid reassurance. I can't imagine what Samantha's going through."  

"I can," he admitted. "And that's what I hate."  

The next half-hour seemed endless. A slight feeling of relief lifted Danny's heavy thoughts when Samantha, hugging Finn tight to her chest, pushed through the door into the waiting room.  

The happiness in Elena's voice was clear. "Hey, there! How's our boy?" She reached out and stroked Finn's tiny head, nestled securely into Sam's neck. He was sound asleep and any indication of his rough day washed away. "He's all clean."  

"Yeah," Sam softly replied. "He got a bath, clean clothes and lunch. Now all he needs is sleep." She tilted her head and smiled a weary smile. Samantha looked as if she hadn't slept for a week - sooty bags hung under her reddened eyes, and her skin had a pale, tired tint.  

"You could use some rest yourself," Elena said. "Have you heard any more about Martin?"  

"No. Not yet. He's not in the exam area." She paused to clear her throat and swallow. Raw seconds passed and when she spoke again, her voice was hoarse. "I didn't catch anything about . . . I mean, I don't know what his condition is. Was. He wasn't conscious when we found him." She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. "Jack's trying to get information." The tremor in her voice gave away the anxiety she felt. Danny slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. Sam let out a grateful sigh.  

"Listen, I can take Finn to our place if you want. You know Sophie would love it, but I'd understand your reluctance to let him out of your sight."  

"Thanks, Elena, I really appreciate it. Now that I've been able to check out every part of him and know he's fine, I think I'll take you up on that. I need to see about Martin." The last words came out strangled and Sam took a deep breath to gather courage. Then she looked at Elena with shining eyes. "Thanks," she whispered as she carefully transferred the tiny, sleeping soul to Elena's willing arms. "It really helps knowing he's safe. Thank you so much."  

Elena held Finn close and smiled. "De nada," she said. Then she turned to Danny. "You coming with me or staying here, querido?"  

"Staying." He gently rubbed her arms and smiled at the sleeping child. "He looks worn out. I'll check with you later?"  

"Sure." They kissed and then parted. "I'll update Vivian when I get home. Prayers to Martin."  

Danny stood by Sam and they both watched Elena leave. Danny rubbed Sam's back in small circles. "You ready?"  

Sam nodded and glanced up to her teammate. "I'm scared, Danny. The medics were worried - what if . . ?"  

"Shh, don't think that way. It's too early. Martin made it all that way into the woods, right? We both know how stubborn he is."  

Sam choked out a short laugh and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Yeah, we do. I just want to find out what I can before Victor and Katherine get here. I'm not sure they'll keep me in the loop."  

"I thought you were getting along with them."  

"Yeah, his mom's okay but I still not sure that Victor approves. There's some tension, but he's polite."  

Danny turned her toward the exam room doors. "Then let's see what Jack's dug up. That man won't take 'no' for an answer, that's for sure."  

Sam chuffed a short laugh as the entry door buzzed them in. "If the staff here thinks Jack is a pain in the ass, they'll think again after meeting Daddy Fitzgerald."  

"You're talking about your future in-laws, you know."  

"Shut up, Danny." Warm tears fell easier with trusted backup.  

Once in the exam area Jack was easy to locate - his dark suit stood out in stark contrast with the scrub-clad medical teams and as soon as Samantha's eyes connected with his, she knew things weren't good. When she and Danny stopped in front of him, Jack immediately gripped her elbow and turned her back out of the exam area. Sam found that she was unable to speak because fear stole her voice.  

"Where's Martin?" Danny asked as they headed for the bank of elevators. "Jack? Where are we going?"  

"Surgery. Martin's got a brain hematoma and it's causing pressure. That's why he was out when we found him."  

"It takes a while for that kind of pressure to build," Danny said. "I guess it started when he got hit on the head in the store?"  

"Looks like it."  

"They drill a hole." Sam whispered as the elevator rose. Her teammates looked to her and she clarified. "They have to drain the pressure on his brain. They'll drill a hole in his skull."  

"That's the usual procedure," Jack said with reluctance. "But I don't know if that's what they're doing. I'll find out."  

Sam didn't need to find out. She knew. The clues were there from Martin's actions since the robbery to the hurried attitude of the medical staff. They were going to drill a hole in Martin's head. Like he needs another scar, she thought with overwhelming sadness.  

The elevator doors opened and she felt her body escorted into a sterile hallway. Samantha felt disconnected, as if this were all a dream. The first thing she noticed was a plain, industrial style clock on the wall that told that it had only been a few hours since the robbery, and just a few more since she'd felt the warmth of his body against hers this morning. Was that right? Surely it had been longer than that – it felt like a lifetime ago. How could things change so quickly? Would she ever feel his comforting length against her back or feel his eager lips again? Would he be the same man she loved?  

"Hey." Danny's voice whispered next to her ear and she realized she'd stopped at the threshold of the surgical waiting room, her fingers pressed to her lips. She blinked, dropped her hand and turned her head to meet Danny's worried brown eyes. "He'll be okay, I'm sure. Come on, let's sit."  

She allowed him to steer her into the room but she had no desire to sit. All Sam wanted to do at this moment was throw up. "Restroom," she choked.  

"Over there." Danny turned her body and pointed at the clearly labeled doorway across the hall.  

She bolted without thanking him and was relieved that no one else was in the small room. After vomiting what little remained of breakfast in the closest toilet, Samantha panted a few minutes and leaned against the stall's cold partition wall. Satisfied she was finished Samantha wobbled to the sink and rinsed her mouth. Then she splashed cool water on her face and took a reluctant glance at the mirror.  

"Shit," she breathed softly at the washed out, frightened face that looked back. She had to be strong for Martin and Finn, she scolded herself. After her own dressing down, she felt better and patted her skin dry with a paper towel and tried to ignore the quiver of her hands. She threw the towel away, stood up and straightened her clothes as she faced her reflection straight on. "Hold it together, Spade."  

Then she took a breath, lifted her chin, and walked confidently from the room and right into Victor Fitzgerald.  

"Oh!" she squeaked. The Assistant Director stopped and regarded her for a moment with a frown. "I didn't see you. I'm sorry." Her voice sounded tight in her own ears. Victor nodded acceptance of her apology, his lips in a tight line, and then continued into the waiting area. Samantha was relieved to see Martin's mother beyond where he'd stood, waiting with a stricken expression.  

"Samantha," Katherine Fitzgerald breathed. "Have you heard anything?"  

Moving with an elegance that always amazed Samantha, Katherine approached and reached for Sam's hand. Sam felt her trembling when she wrapped her fingers around Katherine's, and hoped the woman felt the support Sam offered.  

"No," Sam said, finally finding her true voice. "Nothing yet. He's in surgery now, that's all I know."  

Jack met Victor as he walked ahead and entered the waiting room. "They have to release some pressure from bruise on his brain," Jack told him. "It shouldn't take long."  

"Any other injuries?"  

"Just superficial scrapes and bruises. There's a gash on his back that might be from a bullet, but it's minor."  

"Who is handling the investigation?" Victor and Jack moved deeper into the room, their conversation becoming too quiet to hear.  

Sam looked to Katherine and gave her a weak smile. Katherine hooked her elbow in Samantha's and followed her husband.  

"I understand Finn is all right? I'm so glad for that."  

"Yes, he's fine. Martin . . " Sam's bravado deflated a little, but she continued after clearing her throat. ". . . Martin kept him safe."  

They settled into seats close to the surgery information desk. "You know," Katherine said as she released Samantha's arm and opened her purse, "Finn will always be your little boy in your heart, no matter how tall he grows." She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes, unable to hide the waver in her voice. "You will always worry about his safety, his health and his happiness. It's a mother's nature. Having a good man by your side helps a great deal when times are rough."  

Samantha glanced at Victor with new eyes at that revelation, but the logic of it made sense and she was a little surprised it hadn't dawned on her before. Martin was a good man; he must have had a good example.  

Samantha's attention turned back to Martin's mother when Katherine took Samantha's hand in a firm grip. It was in that second that Samantha realized from whom Martin had inherited his soulful eyes. Those same eyes, swimming with tears, held her gaze at this moment and warmed her heart.  

"I know my son has a good woman by his side, and you can't know how grateful I am for that, Samantha. He loves you and I am glad that you are here. We will get through this. Together."  

Over Katherine’s shoulder and across the room, Samantha saw Danny smile. She’s right, she thought. I am not alone. One way or another, she had family and she would get through this with their help.  

CHAPTER SEVEN

When waiting, time was like flowing water. Running over the hard rock of anxiety without pause, eventually the rock smoothed and rounded, losing the rough edges that caused pain. The pain becomes an ache and soon the void left becomes noticeable.  

Gathered together in the surgical waiting area, Sam began to notice things that pain and shock had blocked. Lifting her chin, she noticed that she sat separated from the others. Across from her, she finally heard Jack’s low phone conversation – and felt the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement when she saw that he sat directly under a sign reading “No Cell Phone Use In The Waiting Area”. The red circle-and-bar-slash trapping and bisecting a black cell phone graphic hovered above her boss’ head like a perverse halo.

Two seats down, Danny sat with his back angled to Jack and flipped through a golf magazine. “Golf?” He looked tired with his head slightly bowed, but his lazy smile softened the stress lines etched across his forehead. Sam didn’t have to guess about whom he thought of – she knew. Elena had that effect on him. His content smile came from his thoughts and Sam wondered if he really saw any of the magazine pages he fanned with his thumb. A warm spot that their happiness stoked flickered inside her. She was happy for them, but seeing her partners alone in the waiting area made Martin’s absence palatable.

Tears threatened to rise. She held them off with a quick, deep sigh as she pushed to her feet. Ducking her head, the constricting bands around her throat loosened with a cough. Samantha turned aside and felt someone watching her. She raised her head just enough to discover Katherine’s tortured, blue gaze fixed on her face. Her heart jolted at the resemblance to Martin and the horrible memory of when she’d confronted him about his addiction. It was the same look. The chairs flanking Katherine were empty because Victor haunted the nurses’ station, his fingers tapping annoyingly on the unmanned counter. His sharp questioning had chased away the staff.

Sam found herself automatically moving in Katherine’s direction, a thing she’d been unable to do before. Katherine rose to meet her and Samantha reached out, taking the woman’s hands.

“How are you doing, dear?” Katherine found her voice first.

Samantha gave her a weak smile. “About as well as you, I think.”

Caught, Katherine’s bravado crumpled a little, causing her shoulders to droop. “We should hear something soon.”

As if on cue, the swinging doors to the surgery area opened with a mechanical groan. A distinguished-looking, scrub-dressed man stopped in front of the doors and addressed Victor.

“Mr. Fitzgerald?” Martin’s father stalked toward him. The doctor looked aside to speak to Katherine. “Mrs. Fitzgerald, you and your husband can come with me.”

Katherine reached out and tucked Samantha’s hand into the bend of her elbow, but did not approach the doctor. Instead, she huddled close to Sam and fixed a determined look on the surgeon. “These are Martin’s friends and coworkers. They can hear what you have to say, too.”

Victor shot her a look, surprised. By the way Katherine stood her ground, Samantha realized this wasn’t the first time Martin’s mother called the shots. Behind her, she heard shuffling noises as Jack and Danny took up positions of support. The surgeon understood the winner of this round and spoke to the group in a low voice meant for privacy. The five of them gathered close enough to hear.

“I’ve relieved the pressure on Martin’s brain and everything went smoothly. We drained a significant clot, but I am confident the bleeding is in control and that he will recover. He’ll need rest, of course, and we’ll keep a close eye on him for a few days. Barring any complications, he should be able to go home next week.”

“What kind of complications?” Victor asked, frowning. Katherine released Samantha’s elbow and stepped to his side. Victor’s arm lifted and wrapped around her narrow shoulders without dropping his eyes from the doctor, the motion automatic and familiar.

“Infection, mostly. That’s always a concern with surgery. His other wounds are superficial in comparison. He sustained a couple of cracked ribs and that bullet graze, which should heal nicely, and a severe concussion. He’ll be sore for awhile.”

“Can we see him?” Even though her eyes glistened with tears, Katherine’s voice was even and strong.

“He’s in recovery at the moment, so do not be alarmed at the equipment. I’ll move him to ICU as soon as a bed is available. It shouldn’t be long. Follow me, please.”

As fear drained away and relief engulfed her, Samantha found that her feet wouldn’t move. Behind her, the bright lift in Jack and Danny’s conversation was clear, but the exact words escaped her. Instead, she watched Martin’s parents move away. The surgeon slapped the button that opened the automatic doors and as the hallway opened up before them, Katherine paused and turned from under Victor’s arm and found Samantha with perplexed eyes.

“Aren’t you coming, Samantha?”

Someone pushed her from behind and an annoyed glance in that direction revealed Jack’s familiar smirk and Danny flicking his hand in her direction. “Shoo,” he said, one eyebrow angled upward.

“Tell him hello for us,” Jack added.

Katherine’s warm hand grasped hers and drew her to their side. Victor gave her a sidelong look but did not object. The three of them walked through the open doors shoulder to shoulder.

Her first look at Martin brought Samantha to an abrupt standstill. Katherine swept to the side of the gurney and her trembling hand traced Martin’s hairline from forehead to ear. The lightness of her motherly caress froze Samantha in place at the foot of the bed, the cold rail pressing against her stomach like an icy fence.

Martin looked horrible. The livid purple bruising that spread from his temple was the only color against the sheets, the left side of his face swollen to unrecognizable proportions. The right side appeared freakishly normal in its pale laxness. White bandages crowned his head and all manner of tubes and lines trailed from his nose and face like a tangle of fishing line on a white sand beach.

Katherine murmured soothingly from one side of the bed while Victor looked down at his son from the other. Samantha felt herself blink when she read the anguish on Victor’s usually stoic face. This was how parents reacted to the trials of their children – Samantha had been witness to this many times in her line of work but this was the first time that the depth of the connection struck her.

Since she and Martin had reunited, she occasionally wondered how his parents acted during his recovery from Dornvald’s ambush. She always assumed Martin returned to work so quickly afterward to prove something to Victor or escape the pressure for him to change his line of work. “I was supposed to go into politics,” he’d once told her.

What she witnessed now did not fit what she’d assumed all this time. Maybe she was wrong all along, or perhaps Martin’s parents finally accepted her and therefore allowed their feelings to show. Whatever the reason, she intended to seize the chance to do what she had promised - and failed to do - after the Dornvald shooting and be there for him.

Victor stepped back and waved in one of the nurses. Samantha edged around the corner of the bed and took Victor’s spot at Martin’s side and worked her hand through the tangle of wires and lines. She took Martin’s lax hand - a little startled at its coldness - and leaned down.

“You can wake up anytime now,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” She lightly kissed his temple and swore she heard a soft sigh. Samantha stood a little straighter and squeezed Martin’s hand. “Come on, Martin. Open your eyes.”

She wasn’t imagining it. Martin rolled his head slightly in her direction and she saw his closed lid ripple from the motion the eyeball. She leaned in again and carefully stroked his swollen cheek with her other hand. “That’s it, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Open your eyes. I’m here.”

The heart monitor’s beat sped up and Martin’s hand twitched. Martin’s struggle to consciousness deepened the lines of his face as he frowned. His eyelid fluttered and eventually rewarded Sam with a crescent of hazy blue.

“There you are,” she whispered, smiling down at him. She carefully stroked his mottled cheek and brushed his forehead with her lips. Sam found her next words stuck in her throat. Even though banked tears muddled her vision, Martin’s response was the best thing she’d ever seen. He blinked slowly and worked uncooperative lips.

“Sam?”

Her name was nearly too soft to hear, but loud enough for Katherine to sigh with relief.

. . . And then step back.

The significance of the motion flew right over Samantha’s head because her focus was entirely on erasing Martin’s fears as well as her own. She was aware of increased activity in the room but ignored all of it. The confusion in Martin’s pained expression melted away with Samantha’s reassurances, and the various monitors’ dancing lines and erratic beeps calmed.

The surgeon appeared and quickly examined his patient. “We’ll move him to the ICU now,” he said, waving someone over.

“Excuse me. I’ll take him.”

Sam felt a warm hand on her forearm and realized the speaker had repeated the statement twice. Samantha spared the speaker an apologetic glance and straightened. “Sure. Let me tell him what’s going on.” The two nurses moved in and busily prepared the related equipment for the move.

“I think he’s asleep now.”

Samantha looked down and saw that Martin’s closed eye, but she still felt a tremble in his hand. Ignoring the nurse, she bent down amidst the bustle and kissed his cheek. “I’m right here, Martin. They’re moving you to another room, but I’m right here.”

She stood and nodded at the nurses, but refused to release his hand. Her attitude brooked no argument so the nurses worked efficiently and included Sam in their conversation as they maneuvered the gurney out of the recovery room. She vaguely noticed passing Martin’s parents where they stood out of the way against a wall, Victor’s arm around Katherine’s shoulders, but she didn’t acknowledge them - Martin needed her, and it was clearly her place to be right where she was.

Time’s flow had worn a new path. The enormity of the Fitzgeralds’ acceptance of this new fact escaped her completely. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sam lost Martin on the way to ICU. Holding his hand, she looked down on his face as the gurney journeyed to his room and she held his eyes for a few seconds, but then his lids slipped down and he was gone. Not dead, only disconnected, but a feeling of loss overwhelmed her just the same. A short sob prefaced burning tears and Sam received sympathetic glances from the nurse and orderly.

“He’s fine right now,” the nurse assured her. “He just needs some rest so his body can heal.”

Sam nodded, not trusting her strangled throat enough to speak. She kept her gaze locked on his lax face and unsuccessfully tried to find some kind of reassurance in the lines and features of Martin’s face. All she saw were shadowed bruises layered and dried specks of blood on pale flesh.

The hospital staff situated him in the ICU closest to the nurses’ station and after checking the beeping, flashing mechanical paraphernalia and the web of tubes and lines, they left with quiet efficiency. Sam lingered in the corner and out of the way as they worked, but when finally left alone she found herself hesitant to approach. What was she supposed to do now? Just wait? That wasn’t nearly enough . . .

Samantha’s ascent toward impatient rant was cut short when a nurse returned with a bowl and washcloth.

“I was going to clean him up a bit, unless . . ?” The nurse lifted an eyebrow in question as she set the bowl down.

“Yes,” Sam answered immediately. “I don’t mind.”

She was grateful for a simple chore that would keep her hands busy. Taking her time, she cleaned the flecks of blood and dirt from Martin’s face, hands and arms. Before starting on his chest, the nurse magically appeared with a new bowl of water. With the fresh water, she worked down his torso and then legs and feet. Refreshing the water in the small bathroom, she washed his hair but did a poor job; the bandages around his head scared her. She returned the bowl to the nurse, and then settled in the room’s only chair feeling less tense. It only took a few moments before a sense of déjà-vu struck her.

It was a different hospital, but ICUs tended to look alike so the memory of her “being there” speech came to her quite clearly. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment and she took Martin’s hand. She hadn’t followed through last time, but this time, she would. Her heart allowed nothing less.

So, she leaned in, wrapped both of her hands around his and quietly encouraged him to come back to her. The mechanical noises and sterile environment faded from her senses and Martin became the center of everything. Her reward was a flicker of movement between her hands.

“That’s it, Martin. I need to see your eyes.”

His eyelids rippled. She rested a hand on his cheek and whispered reassurances. Soon, a crescent of blue between translucent lids brightened the room.

Samantha choked. “Hi,” she managed, smiling and tasting salty tears on her lips.

Martin stared for a moment, blinked slowly and then squeezed her hand. “Sam,” he said on a soft breath.

“You’re in the hospital. Don’t move too much, okay?”

His brow furrowed in thought. “What . . .” he started, then his eye widened and the heart monitor raced. “Finn,” he gasped. “Finn!”

“Shh, he’s fine, Martin. You kept him safe. He’s fine. Do you hear me?”

It took several seconds for the beeping heart monitor to slow as the message finally sank in. “Okay. Good.” Martin’s head sank into the pillow as he relaxed.

“Thank you for keeping him safe. You did a great job. Thank you so much. I love you, Martin.” Samantha whispered inches from his face and stroked his forehead until he fell asleep. Only then, did she release his hand and lean back. She jumped when someone behind her spoke.

“He should sleep for awhile now. Why don’t you take a break?”

“Oh,” she stammered, rising to her feet. “I don’t know . . .” Sam looked beyond the nurse and saw Martin’s parents looking anxious outside the room. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be back.”

Leaving the nurse to check the monitors, Sam stepped from the room under Victor’s hard stare. Katherine immediately took her hand. “How’s he doing?”

“He seems better. And he spoke to me again - asked about Finn.” She offered a brief smile. “He’s going to sleep for a bit. I think you can go in.”

Katherine gave her a teary smile and slipped into the room. Sam heard low murmurs as the woman spoke to the nurse. A short cough broke her attention from the room and she faced Martin’s father.

“I’m glad your son is alright,” he said. The usual guardedness and disapproval that Sam usually felt from him were gone, and in his place stood a concerned father. He took her hand, surprised by the warmth, and looked into his face. “It’s difficult, being a parent.”

She smiled briefly. “Yes. Sometimes it is, but the rewards are worth it, isn’t it?”

They regarded each other a second longer, and then he nodded once and released her hand. “Check on your boy and get some rest. We’ll hold the fort here.”

“I,” Samantha started, glancing at the wall clock. She’d been here over two hours! “Oh! I had no idea! It’s later than I thought! I’m sorry, I should have let you,” she glanced toward Martin and saw his mother holding his hand.

Victor actually gave up a tiny smile. “It’s alright. I’m glad you were here for him.”

Samantha tucked her hair behind her ear and nervously returned the smile. “Right. Thanks. Well, then, I’ll come back in a while.”

The pull to see Finn finally won and she walked away. There was some relief knowing Martin wasn’t alone but at this moment. What she really wanted was to be in two places at once. She sighed in frustration when she stepped into the elevator and punched the lobby button. It was during the downward trip that she realized she needed a cab to get home.

On the lobby floor, she retrieved her phone from her coat pocket and headed toward the exit, poking the cell buttons. She felt more than saw a presence beside her, glanced aside, and was surprised to find Jack falling into step.

“Come on,” he said, lightly touching her elbow. “I’ll take you to get Finn. How’s Martin doing?”

“He asked about Finn. He’s sleeping now. . .” Samantha’s voice softened and cracked with the last words. Fighting for control, she released a heavy sigh and rubbed her eyes, very relieved that Jack didn’t ask any more questions as he steered her down the hall into the elevator. She frowned at the crowded car. “

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.

“It just seems like it should be closer to midnight.” She rolled her head in an attempt to loosen the tightness in her neck. “This has to be the longest day in my personal history.”

Jack’s dry chuckle teased a tiny smile from her lips and there was a sudden lightness as a great weight lifted from her shoulders. Martin was going to be fine, Finn was safe and not only did she have friends and co workers that supported her, it looked as if Martin’s parents finally accepted her into their lives.

The warm thoughts hovered in her mind as Jack took her elbow and steered her through the hospital exit and into the parking lot. Once buckled in and on their way, she spoke again. “Jack?”

“Hmm?”

Samantha leaned back in the seat and relaxed into it, her head comfortably cradled in the headrest. She turned just enough to see Jack’s profile as he concentrated on the road to Elena’s. At that moment, she wondered how he could bear being states away from his children; separated for only hours, the emptiness she felt without Finn was beyond words. She wanted to ask Jack how he could stand it. Instead, she said, “I never thought I could be like this.”

Jack glanced over with a knowing smirk and then returned to watch traffic. “I think I know what you mean, but enlighten me anyway just so know for sure and don’t put my foot in my mouth.”

Samantha laughed and then tried to explain herself. “I always saw myself as a loner. After I left home, I was sure I’d be alone for the rest of my life. I had no idea I could be like this - be a family member, I mean. I thought II’d left any chance of that in Wisconsin. I didn’t know the power of this bond. It’s all encompassing. And honestly? It’s pretty scary. So much responsibility. ”

Jack nodded. “When you think about it, yes, it is more responsibility than you think you can handle. I suggest not thinking about it and just go with the flow. You’re doing great. Martin’s doing great. You are good for each other.”

She looked at him with surprise. “Really? You think so?”

“Yes, I do. Really. What we had was completely different. It wasn’t healthy.”

Samantha let out a short laugh. “Jeeze, Jack, you sound like Dr. Phil.”

“Please,” he protested. “If you’re going to make comparisons you could at least choose someone with hair. Sheesh.” He shook his head as if greatly insulted. “I don’t need a shrink, TV or otherwise, to tell me what’s unhealthy. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for our time together, but what you and Martin have is better for you. Much better.”

Suddenly, Samantha felt a giddy lightness of being. “Yeah,” she agreed, settling back into the car seat. “I agree with you on that. It’s just weird that I can celebrate Mother’s Day now. I honestly didn’t think it would ever happen to me.”

“It’s just too bad that your first one is a little . . . untraditional.”

 “Oh, I’m happy with it. Finn is safe and Martin’s coming home soon. Those are the best gifts I can think of.”

“I can’t disagree with you there.” Jack reached over and patted her knee. “Happy Mother’s Day, mom.”

The sentiment caused her eyes to prickle with banked tears. A comforting warmth rose from her heart and encouraged a smile as she searched various pockets for a tissue. Unsuccessful, she used an edge of her sleeve to dab her eyes. “Thanks, Jack,” she managed as a tight croak.

His short, responding laugh confirmed that everything was going to be all right.

EPILOGUE

The day’s glow brightened the bedroom with white gold. Samantha blinked awake, the curious silence confusing for a moment. Soft breathing at her side drew her attention and her sleep-jumbled mind sorted itself - Martin’s warm body shifted, and her arms automatically reached for him.

Outside, the street was quiet. The window curtain rolled with the slight breeze that slipped through the cracked open window. Samantha felt the wind’s coolness brush one cheek while the other warmed comfortingly on Martin’s shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest as he breathed suspended time in a magical way. It was a perfect moment.

She ran the plane of her hand across his flat stomach and up, resting it flat over his heart where she was reassured by its strong beat. She let the feeling of completeness envelope her. After a time, Martin’s head rolled in her direction, drawn to her even in sleep. Samantha’s hand then moved across his chest, traveling lightly over the odd smooth-roughness of old scars. She tipped her head just enough that she could watch her hand as it wandered up his neck, across his strong jaw and stubbled cheek, and get tangled in his unruly hair. Smiling, she gently combed the mess, noting its unusual length and the cropped patch over his new scar. Under her fingertip, she felt a perfectly round divot in his skull. Instead of feeling sadness by this particular scar, she was overwhelmingly grateful as it had saved Martin’s life.

The corner of Martin’s eye twitched and a soft sigh escaped him. He was drifting to wakefulness. Samantha kissed his temple and Martin’s hand automatically rose in answer, his fingers tentatively brushing her cheek. From there, his fingers trailed along her skin and he cupped the back of her neck as his eyes fluttered open.

She smiled. They kissed, the embrace deepening. Sam wiggled until they shared a pillow, and they paused, forehead to forehead. The corner of Martin’s mouth twitched upward as he pulled her unresisting body close.

“Morning,” she whispered, a thrill zinging up her spine where his fingers traced a wandering line down her neck and spine.

“Morning,” he answered softly as his eyes drifted open. A few thrilling seconds passed as twinkling blue smiled at her.

He slipped his other arm under her warm, willing body, filling his arms with her.

She pressed impossibly closer and felt the mutual arousal that sparked so easily between them. His wandering hands loosened a breathy groan from deep inside and she threw back her head, closing her eyes to fully savor his touch. Martin’s warm lips swept up the long column of her neck and she shivered.

His kisses paused at that certain spot just below her earlobe . . . and he chuckled.

Flustered, Samantha gasped. “What are you . . .” It was then that she heard it.

“Mama! Mama! MAMA!”

Finn.  “Oooooh grrrrr . . .” Her body sagged. She heard Finn’s crib rattle.

“He actually gave us an extra hour,” Martin laughed lightly, kissing the tip of her nose.

“His timing has always been just great,” she noted with a frustrated tone.

They parted, flopping sideways to lie on their backs and hold hands.  Finn didn’t sound upset, she realized. Instead, he quieted and was having a pleasant conversation with himself. It was cute.

“How long do you think he’ll entertain himself?” Martin asked as his rolled sideways so his free hand could tease her nipple.

“Not long enough,” Samantha answered, twisting a little more so he could reach all of her. She rested her hand on his hip. “But he does sound kinda busy at the moment.” She leaned in to nuzzle his neck.

They kissed again, working to attain their previous arousal.

A muted thump froze their motion and they listened, cheek to cheek. Finn was oddly quiet. Samantha frowned. “What the . . .” was all she was able to utter before the bedroom door, which had been ajar, opened wider.

Martin and Sam sat up abruptly as Finn toddled drunkenly into the room, dragging his favorite blankie and babbling happily.

Samantha gaped. After a moment, Martin chuckled. “Uh, oh. The game’s changed for good now. Looks like he learned to walk and escape his crib at the same time, Mom!”

“Wha . .?” was all she could manage as her son made a wavering line to her side of the bed. Once there, he reached for her but fell, and then closed the gap with an accomplished crawl. Sam automatically leaned over scooped him up. “Look at you!” She corralled him with a hug. “Houdini walking!”

Martin rubbed the boy’s back, a silly grin on his face. “I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s an overachiever. Just like Mom.”

“Very funny!” Samantha laughed. Then she turned and pulled Martin into the giggling, squirmy embrace, leaving him with no chance of escape. Not that he would escape, because Samantha knew with absolute certainty that Martin would always be a part of her – their - life.

Mother’s Day had been weeks ago, and it had been a very good day, but this was the moment that would always define the celebration in her heart and mind.

The End