Gabriel

45. When She's Gone

     I am terribly sorry at the shortness of this chapter! I wanted more, but it's been really busy lately for me. So so sorry!!!! 

xoxo

Caroline

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GABRIEL

     I think it's Wednesday. Or maybe Thursday, I'm not quite sure. The lack of sleep mixed with not enough food makes my vision go in and out of focus every once and a while as I listen to the Nicholas' advice. On Tuesday, Maeve's therapist called asking why she hadn't shown up for her appointment I didn't have the energy to lie and she was a family friend in the first place so she has a certain amount of trust that allowed me to inform her of the situation. She told me about her brother being an FBI Hostage Specialist and offered to arrange a private meeting after I vocalized my fear about who ever taking her finding out about that I was talking to the FBI. She said he was a private consultant as well, though so although I can't remember, I can assume I said yes because Nicholas Johnston sits on the couch in front of me.

     "Mr. Montero... Mr. Montero!" I hear a voice snap me out of my stupor. My vision clears as I look back up to the pale skinned, dark haired man.

     "From the information you've given me, our window is shrinking and shrinking every moment we waste. We've already passed the first twenty-four hours, so our chanced of finding her without police involvement are decreasing, so please cooperate. I know this can't be easy, but we have to go over it again and again until something stands out. Now, back at the zoo...", he commands and my beast wants to growl at his domineering tone, but under the circumstances, logic prevails.

     And so I tell him again and again, but nothing stands out, especially since I was so focused on just Maeve. I should have been more aware of my surroundings. I shouldn't have fucked up like I always do. I should have kept her in my sight. I should have reacted faster to what Maybel told me. Should have–

     I should have protected her.

     "Since nothing stands out, our next step is to assess what kind of kidnapping this was."

     "What do you mean?" I ask confused.

     "Is the real target you, or your money? Was it personal? Or random? From the text message you received I can determine it was definitely not randomize, but we're still not sure who the target actually is", Nicholas says, motioning to my open text screen that displays the untraceable message.

     I hear the door open and my head snaps up to the person walking past the front entry. Michael comes into view, with a perplexed look on his face.

     "Have you found anything?" I ask, referring to where he'd just come back from – a friend of his who might have some intel on any circulating trafficking rings. Michael shakes his head in disappointment, but tosses something in my direction. I catch it reflexively, but staring down at the medium-sized manila envelope I become bewildered as well.

     Flipping it front to back, there's no address or anything to see who it's from, and my suspicion grows.

     "Where did you get this?" I ask, standing from my seat in the chair adjacent to the couch. He shrugs.

     "It was just leaning against your door", he says, but as he realizes the precarious current situation, his eyes widen.

     "Do you think...", Michael trails off as I start to rip open the nameless package.

     "Wait, stop!" Nicholas exclaims, standing abruptly from his perch on the edge of the couch.

     "There could be anything in there. If the target is really you, then you should wait. I have an analyst friend at the Bureau who could look it over for explosives or white powder–", but before he can finish, I've already made up my mind, throwing caution to the wind and ripping it open.

     I shove my hand inside the mangled up package and pull out a Polaroid– it's up side down, but I can tell from the filmy texture. I flip it over and as my mind registers the image, I let out a choked sob and stumble back until my feet hit the chair. I stare in shock, her face and every detail like a physical blow.

     It's my little Mae, staring helplessly at something behind the camera as her hands are cuffed to some sort of metal contraption, her body left bare. Along her rib cage, written in black ink is 100 mill for the girl. Cuts and bruises adorned her body, especially her arms and breasts, along with dark marks that looked like fingerprints and belt lines. Yesterday's paper was held by a hand reaching from outside the photo, holding it up by her face.

     Her features etch into my mind, even as I turn away from the photo, attempting not to shift in anger. My beast claws at the seams, trying to fight his way out and tear someone apart.

     "Gabriel, what is it?" Michael asks hesitantly. I wouldn't let the others see it. The possessive side of me, wanting to protect her from anybody else's eyes fought with the logic of analyzing the photo– looking for clues.

     A hand reaches out to take the photo from my hands but I growl, pulling it back against my chest. I hear a sigh from beside me.

     "Gabriel, just tell us", Nicholas exclaims impatiently.

     "I-it's her", I get out, my voice cracking as I start to break down. My breathing becomes labored as I sit down, shoving the photo towards Michael and clasping my hands around the back of my head, staring at my heels rocking back and forth against the wood floor.

     My thoughts wander, the voiced talking in the living room receding into the back ground as I disappear into my mind. What I wouldn't give to have her back here, what I wouldn't give to have her in my arms.

     If it's one hundred million dollars they want, then I don't give a fuck. One hundred million, one hundred billion... it's all the same. Money is money– I just want her back.

     Like gravity or air, she is a force I can't live without.