Tellings of the Time: Complete series

21. 20

My door opens, and Hurricane Chester comes flying in. His eyes look slightly erratic and the way he just stormed in here tells me something is up. Something is always up nowadays.

He does a double take when he staves in the direction of the windowsill, only to find it occupied. Remy sits there, doing stuff on his phone with earbuds in. He came over after his rehearsal at the theater and didn’t want to be alone. So we’ve both been doing our own thing over here ever since.

“You don’t work here,” Chester says.

Remy finally looks up from his phone, showing his pretty teeth in a panty-melting smile. “Hello there yourself.”

“Never mind,” Chester grunts, spinning on his heel and focusing on me. “Grab your stuff. We have to go. Call in Alex and Scott and Dylan.”

My heart starts racing. Something is going on, presumably something with missing kids otherwise I wouldn’t have to call in my team.

“What’s going on?”

“That FBI agent who’s been staking out that drugstore in Salem? He found Darla and followed her to a motel room. So we’re going.”

It’s the best news I’ve heard in days.

“Why are you telling me? Where’s Beckett?”

“Beckett is probably getting the news himself. I intercepted the message.”

I shake my head, unable to keep a smile back. “You mean you hacked the FBI just because you could.”

His smile turns devious. “I used ‘hackerboy’ as my handle this time.”

Remy snorts at the same moment my phone rings.

Beckett.

“Yeah, you’ve got an address on Darla. We’re on the way,” I say by way of greeting. The other side of the line falls silent.

“Fucking Chester,” he mumbles, making me snicker. Chester, who only hears one side of the conversation, is beaming nonetheless. “We’ll come pick you and your team up,” he says eventually. “Then we can all go together.”

“Who’s we?”

“Winny is coming. She’s a trained negotiator. Figured she’s more helpful than a gun in this situation.”

My stomach knots. Let’s all hope and pray there won’t be any guns necessary today.

“Sure, I’m calling in the guys. Be here in thirty?”

“See you then.”

He ends the call, and I start dialing my team. It’s a good day to bring Harlow home.

“It’s all a little overkill,” Chester says through my earpiece. I’m in the car with Winny and Beckett while Scott, Dylan and Alex drive the other car. It’s about an hour’s drive to Salem, but it feels like forever.

“You’re just sour because you feel left out,” I tell him.

“Well, at least we can both feel left out together,” Remy says in the background. He stayed at the office, watching and waiting how this all turns out. I’m kind of excited to have him there and seeing us in action. He was there when we saved the kids in the train wagon, but it was Wayne who helped us get to those kids. This girl? Harlow? We found her. This is what we do. And I want to show him and share that with him. Make him understand why what we do is so important to me.

Chester grumbles a little because it’s true. But saying this is a little overkill is true as well. We don’t exactly need six people in a low-risk hostage situation. Winny assessed the situation; the biggest danger is Darla coming to her senses and harming herself. She wouldn’t harm Harlow. If anything, she wants to protect Harlow, thinking it’s her own baby. We’re going to do everything in our power so that everyone makes it out safely.

“I’d rather have too many people there than not enough,” Winny says, always the voice of reason.

“Depends on which people,” Beckett argues. “If you have a bunch of fucking numbnuts, you can better be on your own.”

“Not everyone holds up to your ludicrously high standards, Beck. There’s plenty of new agents who are perfectly capable of doing their jobs. You’re the only one who gives them a hard time.”

Beckett giving agents a hard time? No way. I give Beckett a crooked smile in the rearview mirror, and he rolls his eyes at me. I chuckle and stick out my tongue.

“I’m surprised you’re even willing to work with us,” I tell him.

“Oh trust me,” Winny intervenes, “he didn’t shut up about you and your team. Had a lot to say about you not following the rules, proper protocol and picking locks, but he was impressed with your skills and coordination and went on and on about how he wished new recruits would have half your skillset. He was insufferable for days.”

I gloat. My face lights up, and I feel mighty fine about my team and me when I see Beckett rub his eyes and shake his head. I have an inkling I wasn’t supposed to be privy to this information. He acted all high and mighty then, as if everything we did was wrong, while secretly he was admiring us.

It feels good.

“You’d even like Chester on your team?” I ask, adding fuel to the fire.

It stays quiet for the longest time, a knowing smile on Winny’s lips.

“Well, as Hackerboy likes to point out, the FBI’s security is laughable. He’d be an asset, I guess.”

“I’m so thankful for technology and me being able to record this conversation,” Chester says through our earpieces.

“I’m never going to fucking live this down,” Beckett whines.

We all laugh.

We’re about ten minutes away when I start to get some healthy nerves.

“How are we going to do this?” I ask none of them in particular. Yes, this is my case. I’m the one saving kids. I have the lead, but I’m not so stupid that I’ll pass on good advice when I’ve got two experts in the car.

“Stay calm,” Winny says. “If there’s any way to get through to her, it’s her motherly instincts and feelings. Your in is to make her realize she’s putting her sister through the same pain as she went through. Make her understand that Harlow is not her daughter.”

“Make her feel you understand,” Beckett adds.

This case is different. This isn’t some hardened criminal who took a kid for some reason. This is a sick and severely hurting woman who loves so deeply she did a bad thing.

“You think she’ll give the kid back?”

Winny slowly shakes her head. “No. I think she’ll want to defend the kid tooth and nail. I think you’ll have to evoke a moment of clarity with her and physically take the kid away from her at that moment.”

My muscles are tense. I’m not looking forward to taking this kid away from Darla. I rather wrestle some scumbag asshole to the floor than a grieving mother.

We arrive shortly after, parking our cars at the end of the street. The guys get out of the car as well, and I tell them about Winny’s theory while Beckett talks to a man who comes out of a car a little down the street. My guess is that it’s the agent who staked out the store and followed Darla here.

I look around, all of us in dark tactical gear. And while we look professional as hell, I’d be scared shitless if I answered the door and saw us standing there. It doesn’t feel right.

Beckett returns, agent in tail.

“Darla is inside with Harlow. Nothing seems to be going on. The motel is quiet. Not a lot of people coming in and out. Most people stay here for longer periods of time. No exit at the back, no windows at the back. I think it’s best if we just go.”

All eyes turn to me, waiting on orders on how to proceed.

I can have a mission going in about 0.2 seconds, have everyone set up at the right place and use force to go in and get the kid, but as I said, it doesn’t feel right.

Instead, I take off my Kevlar vest and jacket until I’m left in a dark shirt. I take off my gun holster and gun, handing both to Beckett. I take my hair band out of my hair, letting it fall down and combing my fingers through it. Then I go as far as to take off my shoes and socks.

They all seem confused.

“Winny, would you please help me in talking with Darla? I need us both to look as non-threatening as possible. We don’t want to scare her or Harlow. You guys can all stay back and have our six.”

“You’re going in unarmed?” Scott asks, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“I think it’s the best chance to get everyone out safely.”

Winny doesn’t say anything. She just takes off her gun and her tac gear until she is equally barefoot and down to her pants and tank top. She unbraids her hair, combing her fingers through the long, wavy locks.

Alex nods in understanding. He taps one finger against his lips while he observes us. Out of all my men, Alex seems to be the one who understands the best that sometimes it’s not the best tactic to come in guns blazing. Even if it’s the most fun tactic if you ask me.

“Scott, Dylan, you two over there.” I point to a spot across the street where they can see the entry to the motel and take cover. “Beckett and Alex, that side of the building. Be ready to step in if need be.”

They both nod.

“Agent, I don’t know your name. Observe and get some EMTs ready.”

The young man gives me an earnest nod, and I guess I’ll take that as agreement. Then I turn to Winny.

“You up for this?”

“Let’s get this baby home,” she tells me fiercely, her eyes on the motel. In the months I’ve gotten to know Winny, I’ve mostly seen her do research. I rarely see her out in the field. But she’s a trained agent and she knows what to do.

Everyone breaks up and takes their position. As always, I take the lead.

I knock on the door, trying to tone down my impatience and wait for it to open. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens a little and two bright eyes peep through the opening. I’m taken aback by how friendly her eyes are.

“Shh,” she says, “the baby is sleeping.”

“We’ll be quiet,” I say, stepping forward as if I want to get closer to her to speak with her while I secretly move my leg and place it in the door”s opening. If she tries to close it now, my leg will keep it open. I do regret taking off my shoes now.

Darla gives me a once-over, friendliness never leaving her face. She doesn’t really seem to understand what we’re doing here. “What can I help you with?” she asks.

“We’re here because of your sister, Darla,” I say, showing all my cards and starting to work on speaking to her emotions.

“My sister?” she asks, and I can feel her pushing the door closed a little more.

“Yes. She misses her daughter a lot. She’s worried sick. Can’t eat, can’t sleep. She needs to know that Harlow is safe.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Something changes in her eyes. It’s fear.

Winny takes over. “We know you’ve taken great care of Harlow, Darla. But she needs to get back home now. Back to her mommy and daddy.”

The blood drains from Darla’s face.

“I… It’s just me and my daughter here. I… No… It’s my baby!” she says. Her eyes pool with tears, and she does try to shut the door on me now. My leg is preventing that. I push back against the door, using both hands, opening it up without shoving her back.

“It must have felt so good, Darla. Having a little baby in your arms again. I bet Harlow had the best time with you. But now she needs to go back to her parents.” Winny seems to be going for the kill. I can see Darla cracking right in front of me.

“No!” she shouts, trying to close the door more forcefully. It hurts my knee, but I’m not going to let her. Using more force, I push the door open wide enough for me to step through.

My eyes flit through the motel room, which is dimly lit because the curtains are shut, and the only source of light is coming from the door. There’s a baby on one of the double beds, tucked into a blanket and surrounded by pillows so she can’t roll over and fall on the floor in her sleep.

Darla starts shaking, her eyes wide and wet. Her attention is on Harlow as well and she seems ready to get to her. No matter how hard my heart is breaking for her - I’m not going to let that happen.

Winny steps inside, and she doesn’t hesitate to get into action. It’s the last thing I ever would have considered doing. She wraps her arms around Darla, pulling her close, holding her tight, and telling her that everything is going to be alright. Darla just breaks. She fucking breaks. Soul-shattering wails leave her body and I can practically taste her grief, her sorrow, her loss and how lost she is.

I use the opportunity to pick up Harlow, who starts to wake up. Her fat bottom lip starts to wobble.

“It’s okay, Harlow,” I tell her. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Harlow!” Darla screams. “Oh my God! It’s Harlow! I took Harlow!” A moment of clarity cracks whatever was clouding Darla’s mind and my heart breaks again.

Winny keeps talking to Darla, but I don’t think what she’s saying really registers. Darla is lost in her own world of misery; in her case, reality is harsher than the lie she lived.

I turn my back to her, taking the crying little girl in my arms outside with me and stepping into the light. I’ll never regret saving a kid, but right then, this victory feels incredibly empty.

It’s early in the evening, and I’m beyond tired. Eventually, Winny cuffed Darla and took her back to Portland with Alex and Scott. Darla was in hysterics when she got separated from Harlow, at least somewhat aware of the harm she caused. I held on to the little girl like my life depended on it, but she wasn’t having it. She was rudely awoken from her sleep and taken out of her somewhat safe situation by a complete stranger. I’d cry until I’d be hoarse as well, especially since she’s eleven months and doesn’t have the option to verbalize her objections.

The EMTs checked her out quickly before they declared she seemed to be in good health. Usually the parents or caretakers get reunited with the kids in the hospital because most of the time, they’re in rough shape after we retrieve them. But sometimes, we get to take them straight home.

Today is one of those days.

Beckett, Alex and I drive back to Portland with Harlow in my arms in the backseat. We actually tried to get her in a car seat because we wanted to get her home safely, but she didn’t have it. Alex is driving in protective dad mode, so we’re getting there ever so slowly.

I can imagine the trip must feel like it’s taking an eternity for Harlow’s mom and dad.

When we finally reach their house, Remy and Chester are waiting outside, leaning against the side of my car. I can’t hold back the smile that forms, and it gets mirrored on both of my lovers’ faces.

Harlow has puffy red eyes and red cheeks from crying most of the drive over. She was just starting to get tired after using up all her energy to scream bloody murder, but it’s too little, too late since we’re here now.

Alex takes her out of my hands so I can climb out of the car, and the kid isn’t having the change. While I know children can be loud, I somehow always forget exactly how loud. I quickly take her back from Alex, who is laughingly shaking his head.

Just when I’m about to announce we’re going to go knock on the door, said door opens and Harlow’s mom comes rushing out, looking around with wide eyes and taking a step back when her eyes fall on Harlow.

“Harlow!” she yells before she runs outside on bare feet, not giving a crap about what’s in her way. I hurry towards her, extending Harlow so her mother can take her from me as soon as she reaches me.

“John!” she yells at the top of her lungs. “John! Get over here now! Harlow is here! Harlow is back!”

Tears streak over her face, matching the big fat tears that roll over Harlow’s chubby cheeks. The little girl grabs her mother’s hair with both of her chunky hands and while I’m sure the way she pulls the hair must hurt, the mother doesn’t give a fuck.

The dad comes running outside, looking confused as hell and tripping over his own feet in his rush to come over when he finally spots Harlow in his wife’s hands. All of them are crying, and to be honest, I’m choking up too. They seem to have completely forgotten that there are people there.

Chester stands behind Remy, his chin lying on Remy’s shoulder, and he gives me a wink when he notices I’m watching them. Remy is lost in what’s unfolding in front of us, his eyes glued to the freshly reunited family. He’s still as a statue, his jaw slack and his eyes watery.

I quickly make my way to him, and join him in his silent observation. Beckett stands with the parents, waiting for them to finish their reunion before he has a word with them, but they don’t seem to be giving up anytime soon. I know better than to hover. They’ll be at it for a long while.

“I get it now,” Remy says after what feels like an eternity. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. He always wears his emotions on his sleeve. Today isn’t unlike any other day.

“What do you get?” Chester asks.

“Why do you do this? Why you both almost kill yourself for your job. No sleeping, the stress, the physical exhaustion. Why do you throw yourself into the dark side of society without looking out for your own well-being? I get it. This is it. That girl would still be lost without you. Those parents would be devastated.”

I stare at the husband and wife, who are holding on to their daughter while tears keep falling down. The little girl is cooing to them, speaking to her parents in her own little language. The mother is smiling through her tears, the father’s eyes beaming with pride and relief. The whole picture I’m looking at is pure joy.

“You did that. That’s worth losing some sleep over,” Remy concludes.

“I’ll lose sleep over this any time.”

John, the father, finally has enough clarity to take a step back and see Beckett standing there. He makes sure Harlow is safely in her mother’s arms and then he jumps Beckett, pulling him into the biggest hug I’ve ever seen. I snort when I see the lost look on Beckett’s face. He usually deals with bad news conversations. He doesn’t have a clue how to act when it’s happy and grateful people.

“He’s stealing our thunder,” Chester mopes.

“Let him,” I say. Part of me thinks it’s good that he gets to experience this side of what saving kids entails. He never brings the victims of serial killers home alive, so let him have his moment. I hope it ignites something inside of him, making him want to switch teams and work with us.

“Makes me feel fucking useless,” Remy suddenly says.

Chester kisses him on the soft spot of skin beneath his ear. “Why would you say that?”

“Because while you are out saving kids and finding killers, I move my body rhythmically to music. That’s it. My legacy is movement.”

Chester shrugs. “You do what makes you happy. And that’s the most important thing.”

“Well, it feels fucking useless right about now.”

I grab his hand and stroke his knuckles with the pad of my thumb. “You bring joy. What use is saving kids if nobody out there can experience joy?”

He sighs, not taking our word for it.

“Listen,” Chester says, holding Remy tighter. “I could have done anything. I could have studied chemistry and put all my time and effort into researching medicine and saved a lot of lives that way. I could have studied metaphysics and discovered all of the universe’s secrets. To be honest, I could have done a lot more good. In some alternate reality I might have studied socioeconomics and solved world hunger. I can probably do anything I can think of. But I’ve only got so much time to spend in this life, and I chose to save kids and play with computers. Because it makes me happy. Now, do you want to tell me I should change my career?”

Remy gives Chester a skeptical look. “You’re still out there saving kids. You’re not dancing.”

“That’s because he’s not that good of a dancer,” I joke.

“True story,” Chester says. “Couldn’t learn that from a book. Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that there’s always something more we can do. But our most important job is to be happy.”

Remy still doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue anymore. He focuses on the newly reunited family again. Beckett is now being held hostage by the mother, while the father is holding his daughter so close I wonder if she can still breathe. Beckett is looking for help, but all I do is smile and wave. He seems to have it all under control.

After another ten minutes of the mother yelling ‘thank you’ that I go over to help him out, tell these parents about everything that went down. And Beckett has never looked more grateful.

I wake up to a song being played on a piano. Which is odd because we don’t have a piano. It’s 2 am, and I was blissfully sleeping. The last traces of a dream about hiking up a mountain and breaking through the clouds linger at the edge of my mind, and the more I try to hold on to it, the more it slips through my fingers.

Curious about where the piano music is coming from, I climb out of bed, leaving Beckett behind. He lies on his back, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, the other covering his eyes. He was so knackered he fell asleep within a minute of lying down.

The floor is freezing beneath my bare feet, and I hug myself in some lame attempt to keep myself warm. The music comes from downstairs, getting louder the further I get descending the stairs. A dim light shines through a crack in one of the doors in the hallway. It’s a room we hardly ever use, filled with a few cabinets.

The moment I stick my head through the crack of the door, I find Remy in the middle of a routine. The song is instrumental, just a piano, telling something sad that goes straight to my heart.

His movements are big, and he elongates all his limbs as far as possible. I don’t know much about what makes someone a good dancer as opposed to just average, but I see these little things in Remy’s movements that add up to him being extraordinary.

He jumps through the air, lands on one foot while he stretches the other and does a split while standing upwards. He lets himself fall on the ground, rolling a few times before he comes down in a crouch, his arms stretched outwards.

The music and his dance play with my heart, shattering it and then gathering all the shards to mend it again. Mend it into something better than before.

The floor creaks when I shift my weight, pulling Remy out of his trance when he finds me standing in the door”s opening. He stops moving, something flashing over his face that I can’t exactly place.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks.

“The music did.”

We fall silent, and the room is solely filled by the music. Eventually I step inside and close the door behind me. The room is even colder than the other rooms in the house. Since we never use it, the heater is never on. My body feels chilled, and goosebumps covering my whole body. When I step closer to Remy, his body exudes heat and I want to bask in it. A light sheen of perspiration covers his skin making it seem as if he glows. The moment I get within reach, he wraps his arms around me.

“What were you doing?” I ask.

He lifts me up and makes me stand on his feet. Mine feel like two lumps of ice, while his feet are warm despite standing on the same cold floor. He starts dancing to the music. Small steps, as if we’re slow dancing, unhurried paces making us go round and round. My arms wrap around his neck, and my body is pressed flush against his.

“Whenever you’re distraught, you run, or you exercise, or you go see Robin. Me? I get up in the middle of the night like some creep and dance to wordless music while everyone else is asleep.”

I capture his blue eyes.

“Why are you distraught?”

He looks away, laying his cheek against the side of my head. “I need to get my mind straight again. Connect with the music. This afternoon…”

He falls quiet again, and I squeeze him closer to me.

“I know you’ll never be on the same level with stuff like this in me. I believe in fate, and connections with the Earth and other people, and the power of love, and the universe. You believe what you can see and touch. So when I say I need to connect with the music again, I know you inwardly roll your eyes, but you accept it anyway because you love me.”

I respect him enough to not try to deny that. We are unlike each other when it comes to how we view the world. That doesn’t make one of us more right than the other. Everything will be okay if we can respect that we both deal with stuff differently.

My lips press against his jaw, gently kissing him and encouraging him to go on.

“When I saw Harlow go back to her parents this afternoon, and I realized how important your work is, I resented dance. Why the hell am I wasting away my life by dancing? I heard you and Chester. And I believe what both of you said. My dancing is important in its own way. But the disconnect I experienced was still there.”

I frown. I think I can understand to a certain degree, but I”m unsure I really do because we both think in such different manners.

“So this was me reconnecting.”

I nod, and we dance some more.

“Why do it in the middle of the night?” I finally ask.

“Because I’m many things. Loyal, good looking, passionate. Very lovable. But one thing I’m not is patient when it comes to my art. So the moment I realized why I felt off, I got up and did something about it.”

That makes me smile because that describes Remy perfectly.

“Now, please don’t interrupt me and music reconnecting again. Shut your mouth, dance with me and kiss me. Once we’re done, we can try to get some sleep again.”

I roll my eyes but keep my mouth shut and do just as he tells me.