Sleeping in a chair was not easy. The understuffed seat with arms on each side prevented Jessie from getting comfortable. That, along with the occasional paging of various employees on the intercom system and clatter of medicine carts, interrupted her sleep. Dreams of Peter also invaded her light doze. Dreams of him in pain, of Paul Blaisdell, and of some man she didn't know.
She saw Peter in a dark room with another man who Jessie recognized right away as Annie's husband, Paul Blaisdell. His picture was prominent on the mantel at the Blaisdell home. She unconsciously made herself go into a trance, one that she had learned from Peter during the meditation classes he taught. Her heritage let her mind open to the idea of 'mind talking', allowing her to experience it first hand.
"Jessie." The word was feather light to her mind. "How's Kelly?"
"She's fine. Peter, where are you? Mary Margaret said you were kidnapped by Paul."
Though she couldn't hear the soft chuckle, she felt the light heartedness touch her. "No, it was someone who looked like him. Jess, we don't have much time. Where's Kermit?"
"At the precinct."
"Tell him Benson and Stiles." The connection was broken by a wave of pain and nausea.
Jessie woke up with a start, momentarily disoriented. Looking around, she slowly recognized the waiting room décor and the antiseptic smell common to all hospitals. Jessie had opted to sleep in the waiting room while Captain Simms watched over Annie and her daughter.
She slowly rose from her seat, remembering the dream-like conversation she'd had with Peter. Lightly tapping on Kelly's door, Jessie entered, aware of Captain Simms' watchful eyes. "Captain, I need to talk to you," she whispered, glancing at Annie, whose head was lying on the bed near Kelly's pillow.
Karen looked at her watch; it wasn't nearly as late as she had thought. Skalany and Dakota hadn't been gone more than an hour and a half. She stood and walked to the door, briefly pausing to look at her two charges, then stepped out into the hallway.
"What's the matter?"
"I know this sounds strange, but I got a message from Peter. He said that he and Paul are being held and to tell Kermit two names - Benson and Stiles." Jessie watched her brother's Captain's face for any sign of disbelief. When it didn't come, Jessie relaxed a little.
"Did you happen to find out where?" Karen had long ago learned to accept the mysticism that surrounded the Caines.
Sighing in relief that she would be believed, Jessie went on to explain the little of the room she had seen and what she'd sensed about Peter being injured. "Maybe Kermit can do some checking on these people?"
Smiling, Karen nodded. "Yes. I'll call him. He and your brother should still be at the precinct if I know them." She turned and went back inside to call the precinct.
Kermit sat at his desk. Across from him were Detectives Dakota and Skalany. None of them had come up with any answers to their numerous questions. The ringing of the phone turned their attention away from the aggravating search they were on.
"Griffin. Yeah, I've run it through everything I can, still no ID. I'm waiting for the results of one other search. Benson and Stiles? Yeah, I know Benson. He worked with Blaisdell on a couple of missions. Stiles, as you know, would want both Paul and Peter dead more than ever now to get revenge for being taken down for Mathison's murder. She said Peter contacted her? Sure. OK."
Dakota and Skalany listened to the one-sided conversation, unable to put any of what Kermit was saying into the puzzle that was before them. Mary Margaret froze at the name Stiles.
"I'll find out when he was released," she volunteered as Kermit hung up the phone.
"Good. I'll find out what I can on Benson. He was on Blaisdell's wing with Stiles and Mathison." Kermit began typing on his keyboard. He stopped and looked up at James Dakota, who continued to stay in the seat he'd taken earlier. "Don't you have something better to do?"
"Actually, no. I have written the last report, taken the last statement. You and my partner seem to be unwilling to divulge any information to me, so I will sit here until I am needed," Dakota answered, unafraid of the man before him or the legend of why Kermit wore sunglasses.
Taking the hint, Kermit punched a few more letters before hitting send and then gave Dakota a report on the history of the 101st Precinct - its officers and ties.
"So this Captain Stiles would have it in for both Paul Blaisdell and Peter Caine. Enough to try and kill Blaisdell's daughter? Kidnap Caine? What would he be after and what about this Benson fella?" The questions kept popping up, reminding Kermit of another officer. "You seem to know a lot about Blaisdell and this 'wing'. What about the case they worked on? Would Blaisdell try to find this Alexa?"
Mary Margaret walked back in, a frown on her face. "Stiles was released about a month ago. I've got a unit going to his house to watch for him." She paused as Kermit motioned for her to close the door.
Barely containing his frustration at a system that was supposed to keep the bad guys behind bars, Kermit asked one of the many questions that ran through his mind. "How the hell did he get out? He was in there for ten years! He had to have had a really slick lawyer to pull him out."
"State Court of Appeals overturned his case. Turns out that some of the witnesses countered their statements and chose to be charged with perjury."
"I wonder who he threatened to have killed," Kermit said sarcastically. "I could have warned Paul."
Mary Margaret sat, stunned by what she had just heard, not sure if she'd heard right. "What do you mean, you could have warned Paul?"
He then told them the rest of the story. "Paul contacted me about three months after he left. It was right after the US Marshal was called in to find Peter. Paul had been watching the news and heard the story. He called me since I knew he was going to try and find Alexa before he retired."
"And you never told Peter?" Mary Margaret was stunned. Peter had been lost for weeks after his foster father had left to "clear the decks". If it hadn't been for his real father…no, she wouldn't let herself think about it.
Guilt was written all over Kermit's face. "Yeah. Well, we have more important things to worry about." Reading the information that had just come up on the computer screen, Kermit grinned. "Mr. Benson heads a corporation right here in our fair city. I think it is time we paid him a visit." Standing, he retrieved his Desert Eagle from the file cabinet drawer, then led the way out the door.
"Do you really think he'd be here at this time of night?" Dakota asked, thinking that the older detective had gone mad.
"Businessmen keep odd working hours, isn't that right, Sweet Cheeks?" Kermit controlled his voice. What they were about to do was somewhat illegal, but needed to be done.
Mary Margaret had worked with Griffin for so long that she swore she could read his mind. He acted just like her last partner, and she had learned to read him and his movements also. "They do. Look, lights upstairs."
The Benson office building was dark except for the top floor. Every window was lit up with light; some were dim while others were bright. Figures could be seen in one of the better-lit rooms. Along the bottom of the building were smaller windows that went around the building, giving light to the basement during the day.
Reaching for the glove compartment, Kermit pulled out a pair of binoculars and a flashlight. He gave the light to Dakota and motioned for the two others to get out of the car and follow him. Taking to the shadows of the trees near the building, he then peered through the lenses to the window where the men stood.
"Stiles." The name was said with a hiss. "And Benson's with him. They have to have Paul and Peter," Kermit said to no one in particular. He continued to watch the man upstairs. "Shit!"
"What's the matter, Kermit?"
"The photo from the airport -- I just saw the man who Paul walked off with. Look, I'm going to see if I can get into one of the basement windows and find something or someone."
Dakota looked at Kermit incredulously. "I don't believe breaking and entering is very legal."
"Neither is kidnapping or attempted murder," Kermit shot back. "Give me thirty minutes. If I'm not back by then, you'd better call for some help." Leaving the keys with Mary Margaret, Kermit exited, slipping quickly into the darkness and toward the prison he was sure his friends inhabited.
Getting to the office building was not hard. The underbrush through the trees was kept cut. No fence prevented Kermit from reaching his destination. His mercenary training tuned him in to every noise and movement made around him. Listening intently for any sounds, Kermit waited. Pulling out the penlight he kept in his breast pocket, he began doing a search of the basement, via its windows.