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The door to his office opened and closed without a knock. He knew of only one person who would have the nerve to enter without invitation.
Long, slender fingers curled around his aching neck muscles, the touch soothing, cooling, and comforting. Relaxing into the massage, he sank back and closed his eyes, murmuring, "How did you know I needed that?" He breathed in the enticing scent of Captain Simms's perfume and was momentarily transported to another time and place, one where there was nothing but the feel of slick, bare skin and the exciting smells of perfume, sweat, and love.
"A good captain always tries to keep track of the mental state of her detectives." A second hand joined the first as experienced fingers kneaded the taut neck and shoulder muscles.
Kermit sucked in a deep breath and sighed it out through his nose. "It's Peter's mental state I'm worried about."
"You think he'll break?"
"Into a million guilt-ridden pieces. Somehow, he'll find a way to blame himself for this whole situation, and if we don't get Kacie back alive, he'll die, too."
The massaging fingers stopped their movements. "You think he'd actually kill himself?"
Kermit sighed wearily and leaned forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his desk and rub his fingers over his tired, bloodshot eyes. "I don't know. Maybe. Either that, or put himself smack in the middle of some liquor store shootout and hope that someone puts a bullet in his brain."
"Well, then," Simms said briskly, letting her hands continue their ministrations before slowing into a lingering caress. "We'll have to see to it that we find Mrs. Caine and get her home safely." Resisting the urge to kiss the dark head bowed before her, she spoke again. "Team meeting outside in five minutes."
Spinning on her heel, she was nearly to the door when Kermit called after her softly, "Karen?"
She turned and looked back at him inquisitively.
"Thanks." The light in his eyes was warm, even though there was a downward twist to his mouth.
"When all this is over, and everyone is safe, you can thank me properly." As she walked out the door, the stern visage of Captain Karen Simms returned to take control of her forces.
He pulled the lighter out of his pocket, and motioned for the bartender to bring him a pack of cigarettes. Idly studying the lighter in his hand, he wondered, {I don't even remember having this stuffed in my desk. Hell, it's hard telling what else is in there. The last time I even thought about cleaning out my desk was that day I couldn't find my wedding ring.}
He blinked rapidly, catching his breath against the sudden wave of rage that washed over him. {She tried to break up my marriage, tried to hurt Kacie before. Now Sara's got Kace locked up some place, sick, and hurt, and God knows what else. And I'm supposed to bed the bitch?} His hands started to shake, and he took a quick gulp of the bourbon. {How the hell am I going to do that, when the only way I want to touch Sara is to put my hands around her throat and feel the neck bones snap beneath my fingers?}
Lighting his cigarette, he watched the hands on the garishly colored barroom clock creep ever closer to his appointed meeting time.
"All right, listen up, people!" Strenlich's normally loud voice was raised a notch higher, tension straining his voice. "We think we have a search grid narrowed down to a ten block area on the south side of town. We've had people showing Fischer's mug shot around down there, and a couple of convenience store clerks in that location have said he's been in their places in the past few days. We have plainclothes officers going in and out on a regular basis on the chance we can spot the guy and tail him."
Paul was sitting next to Annie, their hands tightly clasped. "Rykker called and talked to me this afternoon. He has somehow managed to keep the phone link in the Ukraine blocked open even after that last transmission this morning." He raised a hand to ward off the questions forthcoming. "Don't ask me how he did it. I don't know, and I wouldn't understand it if he told me. Let's just say it's something new he's stumbled across, and that eventually our government will get their hands on it. He thinks they will have a site location within a few hours."
Simms looked stunned. "I didn't know you could track down the physical location of someone's computer through the phone lines."
Paul and Kermit smiled thinly, and Kermit drawled, "I could tell you a lot of things that can be done in the computer world that you don't know about, but then I would have to kill you."
Caine sat silently in a chair next to Skalany's desk, a part of him listening to the conversations as his soul reached out for his son. All he could feel of Peter was a deep, crushing sense of loss and loneliness, only a black despair. {Oh, my son! If only I could spare you this, I would. Let me give you my strength. Let me back into your being!}
Even though she kept her attention focused on Strenlich and his orders, Skalany reached out her hand and gently squeezed Caine's knee. Hesitantly, tentatively, he crept his hand down to rest on top of hers, sliding his fingers between hers to latch on to the lifeline she offered.
Frank glanced at the notes in his palm. "Skalany, I want you and Jody to join in the house-to-house search down there, starting at 48th and Hennepin. I'll be down there with you, coordinating the effort. Both the 51st and 52nd precincts are sending anyone they can spare and are converging on the area, even as we speak." A small half-smile crept over his face. "Hell, we've had to turn down offers of help from half the forces in the city. They heard Peter Caine and the 101st needed assistance, and we had cops standing in line wanting to help, even the ones on leave."
"What about Peter?" Annie asked anxiously. "Has anyone seen him or heard from him? Do we know if he's all right?"
Strenlich shook his head slowly, even though he knew Annie wouldn't see the motion. "He's on his own. We have no idea where he's run off to, and we'll just have to hope he can take care of the situation and doesn't do anything stupid."
"Like get himself killed?" Annie's voice shook even as Paul kissed the side of her head and tightened his hold around her.
"Like that, or committing first degree murder to force us to pick him up," the chief gritted out. Turning his gaze to Kermit, he went on grimly, "Kermit, I want you and Blake to…" He broke off abruptly and glared around the room, failing to spy the gray-haired, bespectacled detective. "Where the hell is Blake?"