By Lacy

She takes me to a dimly lit room probably intended for questioning, and I briefly wonder if I'm in some kind of trouble. I almost wish I was. I deserve to be. She brings me a cup of black coffee and offers me a chair at the cold steel table, while taking the seat opposite mine. She sets the files she carries on the table in front of her.

"I'd ask you how you're holding up, but I think it's obvious that the answer would be 'not so good'."

"I'm fine," I lie. The coffee is fresh, but bitter on my tongue.

"Yeah, you're on the verge of a mental breakdown."

"Sarcasm," I deadpan. "Lovely. It's just what I need right now. Look, why are you really here?"

"Most of my work is done in the station. I have master's degree in criminal psychology," she says.

Why is it, that in the last year I can't seem to take a step without tripping over a mental health professional?

"You carry a weapon," I point out.

"And a badge," she counters. "I'm also a cop. I went to the Academy and everything. Do you know why we tracked you down, Mr. Lyman?"

"Josh," I tell her. Mr. Lyman was my father. "To tell me about Donna."

"We didn't know about Donna. That's why we tracked you down. It wasn’t easy, either. I had to wake your old super to get your forwarding address."

"I'm not following."

"We knew there was a hostage, and that it was a woman," she explains. "When we discovered that the car was registered to you, we had to find out who the girl was."

"Is," I grind out. "Who the girl IS."

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"What's this?" I indicate the files to change the subject. I'm not as accomplished at the unexpected segue as Donna.

"These are the files I have on Leon Proctor."

"All of them? Well, hasn't he been the busy little bee."

"Indeed."

"Who is this guy?"

"Do you really want to know?" she asks carefully.

I lean in. "I need to know. I need to know everything. Don't even try to keep me in the dark. I can guarantee you I play the game better than you."

"I've spent the last few hours trying to cull whatever information I can out of these files. To create a profile, of sorts, for him. With that, hopefully we'll be able to predict his next move."

"The captain seemed pretty sure that Proctor wouldn't leave the city. Did you tell him that?"

"I did."

"What makes you so sure?"

"His mother is dying. He won't go very far for very long."

"If that's where he's--"

"We have her residence staked out, Josh."

"Okay."

"Proctor grew up in subsidized housing and was raised by a single mother. He never knew his father. His criminal career began when he was ten. He's served time in juvie twice, before reaching his majority. That's just the interesting stuff, the rest is fairly dull, but informative if you know what you're looking for."

"So, what does it tell you?"

"What I know is that Proctor has a problem with authority figures, and weakness of any kind. He proved that when he shot Officer Mandel last night. He considers himself at the top of the pecking order. In his eyes, he is the alpha dog. He generally treats men with a complete lack of any kind of respect.

"And women?"

"It's a little harder to predict."

"You've got nothing?"

"His sheet lists no violent crimes against women."

For a moment, a spark of hope flickers inside of me. "'So, that's good, right?"

"His record doesn't tell me everything." She opens the file and her brow furrows as she peruses it.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Officer Mandel was a woman, and he didn't hesitate to put a bullet in her head at point blank range. Execution style," she says, as an afterthought.

The flicker of hope is instantly doused. "If he can execute a police officer without blinking, what kind of chances are you giving Donna?"

"It's not about odds, Josh."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"We're doing everything we can."

"Stop feeding me the party line! Just tell me."

She closes the file and sets it back on top of the stack with a sigh. Her hazel eyes fill with compassion as she looks at me, but not all that much confidence. "I think man is capable of anything when he’s backed into a corner. I can’t predict what he’ll do to Donna, because in hostage situations all bets are off."

"Oh, God."

"Look, Josh. We've got his regular places staked out. We've got an APB out on the car. If anyone sees anything, we've got four teams ready to roll, and a negotiator who's geared up. We've got two choppers in the air making constant sweeps."

"Thanks."

"I asked you in here, because I need to find out everything I can about her. I need to find out if there’s anything that can help bring this thing to an end quickly and peacefully. We’re running out of time."

"What do you mean…running out of time?"

"There’s a window," she sighs, without making eye contact.

"A window," I echo.

"Yes. Once a hostage is taken, we generally have a six-hour window to end things peacefully. After that, our chances of getting the hostage out alive decrease exponentially every hour."

"And the hits just keep on coming," I mumble. By now, my right hand begins clenching in an uncontrollable fist.

"You mentioned to the captain that you and Donna had a fight earlier," she prompts.

"It was bad."

"Did you hurt her?"

"I didn’t hit her if that’s what you mean. I would never do that."

"But she left."

"She was…upset." I say, to put it mildly.

"I’m worried that her state of mind at the time of the abduction could be a deciding factor in how this turns out," she tells me. Apparently, I look like I need more guilt heaped upon me. "Is there any way we can get in touch with her? Is there a phone in the car?"

I shake my head. "She didn’t take her purse with her. She doesn’t have any ID either."

"That could work in her favor," she mutters. "Is there anything in the car that indicates that you or she work in the White House?"

"No," I tell her. "There’s protocol. We have to be very careful about that."

"How do you believe Donna would behave in a situation like this? Is it possible she could become belligerent? Or would she follow his instructions? Would she keep her wits about her?"

"I don’t know." The sound of defeat in my voice is overwhelming and noticeable to both of us. "After our fight…I’m not sure she’s in any kind of predictable state of mind."

"In a normal situation, then," Jefferson posits.

I have to consider this for a moment, calling upon my three-and-a-half years of experience with her. "Anyone who doesn’t know her would think she talks a lot," I inform the detective, "but says very little. The truth is that she says even more, but you have to know how to listen. She’ll probably be guarded, though. She’ll want to try to get as much out of him as she can, while trying to give away as little about herself as possible. She has a baffling ability to turn a bad situation to her advantage."

"Good," she says with a half smile. "Remember that, Josh," she advises. "You’ve been very helpful." She pushes her chair away from the table and stands up. "I’m going to see if there are any new updates."

I watch as she leaves, but feel no inclination to follow. I’m not sure I want to go out there yet. I’m not sure anymore, if I want to know everything that’s going on. I trust that Sam is on top of the situation and that he’ll inform me if there’s anything worth knowing.

Six hours, she said. That’s the window. I check my crappy watch and mentally tabulate that it’s been four-and-a-half hours since she was taken.

It all seems so surreal, like I’m trapped in some kind of bad movie-of-the-week. I’m shocked at how well I’m handling this. Only an hour ago, I wanted to find a dark corner and curl up and die, or even worse, cry. I try to remember that until I know otherwise, Donna is alive, and as long as she’s alive then there’s still hope. Hope that she’ll come home in one piece. Hope that I can mend the rift I so viciously caused. Hope that I can somehow earn her forgiveness, even if I have to spend the rest of my life striving for it.

It’s good to have goal. It gives one a purpose, and that’s what I need to make it through this. I can set my sights on a goal to get Donna back — to earn her trust back. I’ll rebuild her faith in me, and my faith in us, no matter how long it takes.

I will never doubt again — I will never lose faith. Starting here and now, I will never again take our future for granted.

The creaking of the door opening again steals my attention and Sam pops his head through the crack.

"Is there anything new?" I ask.

"CJ's here," he says.

"Did you tell her?" I can't look him in the eye as I wait to hear his response.

"Yeah."

"Everything?"

"Yeah," he whispers.

"She mad?"

"She's worried, but she wanted me to tell you that when Donna's back safe, she's going to kick your ass."

"Okay."

"And that when she finishes with your ass, she's going to string you up by your--"

"I got the picture, Sam. Thanks for the visual."

"There was also something about a vat of boiling oil, but I don't think you need to hear the specifics."

"Okay."

"Can I get you anything?"

"I've got to get her back, Sam," I say with conviction.

"They'll get her back." Sam takes the chair across from mine and leans in to the table to offer support.

"It can't end like this, it's not right. I need to tell her how sorry I am."

"You will," he promises.

"I've never felt so powerless."

"Josh, Donna is a very forgiving person. I'm sure that with a little time and patience she'll give you another chance. I know how much she loves you. She's stuck with you for far too long to give up on you now."

"Thanks, Sam."

"But you've got to realize something, Josh."

"What?"

"This isn't about you anymore. This isn't about the things you said last night. The moment that guy abducted her this stopped being about you, and started being about her. She's a victim to a crime, Josh. Even under the best of circumstances she's been violated in a terrifying way. I know you remember what that feels like."

"I do."

"You can't press your apologies on her and expect her to forgive you. I'm sure that right now, what you said is the last thing on her mind. I know it's hard for you to hear, but right now she's more worried about staying alive. And that's what's going to stay with her the most."

"So, what do I do, Sam? I don't know what to do."

"All you can do is be there for her. Just like she was there for you. You can't push, Josh. You'll only drive her away if you do."

"So, how did you get so smart?"

"I learned from the best."

"Thanks."

"I was talking about CJ."

"Okay."

"And you were right," he says. "Donna does say a lot more if you know how to listen."

"How did you...?" He points to the mirror on the wall, which is actually a two way glass.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," he justifies.

"I'm not okay, Sam," I say after a long silence.

"I'm your best friend. You think I don't know that, Josh?"

Before I have the chance to reply, CJ enters the room, deciding to show the door a violent lack of respect.

"Could you please tell me what the hell you were thinking? I'm only asking because, you know, I was starting to believe you actually had a brain cell or two in that head of yours."

TBC

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