~For all of you who may have read this on-list, I've written an additional scene. Hope you enjoy :) ~

What Lies Beneath—Chapter Eight

Friday, September 6, 2002

4247 Maplewood Dr.

4:15 PM

“Look, Mr. Stetson, I don’t know what else to say.” Even over the phone the vice principal’s voice sounded irritatingly smug. “The social worker did not follow our policies and we will take disciplinary action. What else do you need to know?”

“What I’d like to know, Mrs. Stephens, is how PTSD ended up on my daughter’s permanent record in the first place.” Lee strode back and forth across the family room carpet as he spoke. “I don’t like that someone can just look that up and use it to imply that Jenna isn’t trustworthy.”

“I see where you’re coming from—and again, the social worker was out of line,” Mrs. Stephens said. “However, we do think it’s important to know all we can about our students—especially if they’re receiving medicinal treatment for any existing conditions.”

“Medicinal treatment? She’s not taking any medicines.”

“According to this she is or was taking something—a drug called Minipress?”

Minipress. Lee remembered now. “Yeah, she was,” he admitted. “But we discontinued it after a week—she had a bad reaction.”

“Nevertheless it stays on the file,” Mrs. Stephens said. “I can do something about the social worker, Mr. Stetson. But I can’t change the record.”

Just then Amanda came through the door, two bags of groceries in hand. She shot Lee a questioning glance.

“I understand,” Lee ran a hand back through his hair. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Stephens—goodbye.” He pressed the button on the cordless and put it back into its receiver, sinking down onto the sofa.

“What was all that about?” Amanda asked.

“Christy came to school this morning with some bruises.” Lee said. “Jenna said that they—the bruises—looked like someone had grabbed her.”

Amanda’s face paled. “Peter Blakeney? He hurt his own daughter?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Lee said. “But when Jenna told the school social worker about it the woman looked at Jenna’s records and said her word wasn’t good enough because of her ‘issues’ with PTSD—that she might have imagined the whole thing.”

Amanda’s face flushed. “Oh my—Lee, she can’t do that. If a child makes a report it’s supposed to be taken seriously no matter what.”

“I know,” Lee rose from the couch and took her hands in his. “I just spoke to the vice-principal and she said that the social worker would be dealt with.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Lee said. “I just wish it wasn’t on Jenna's permanent record. This could follow her around forever, Amanda. It might affect future job opportunities, college admissions—where does it end?”

“Calm down,” Amanda’s voice held a hint of amusement. “Jenna’s only just started high school—we have quite a few years before we need to worry about any of those things.”

“You’re right,” Lee said. “It just bothers me, that’s all.”

She squeezed his hands. “I know—but we’ll cross those bridges when we come to them—together, right?”

“Together,” he agreed.

“So what about Christy?” Amanda asked. “I hope they’re going to investigate now.”

“Christy’s disappeared—left the school and gave our agents the slip. Don’t worry, we’ll find her—we’re pulling out all the stops on this one.” Lee pulled his wife close and whispered a silent prayer that they would find Christy—before anyone else did.

4300 Maplewood Dr.

5:30 PM

“Peter I’m telling you—Christy isn’t here,” Kathryn said.

Peter gripped the phone tightly. “Are you sure?”

“I think I’d know if my daughter was here,” Kathryn said. “What’s going on? Is Christy missing?”

“Of course not,” Peter snapped. “She just hasn’t come home yet—I thought she might’ve gone to see you without telling me.”

“Well she hasn’t.”

“Well has she called you?” Peter’s voice rose. “Has she told you about anything that she might have taken from me?”

“Taken from you?” Kathryn asked. “What do you mean? What on earth would she have taken from you?”

“Just tell me!”

“Christy hasn’t come over and she hasn’t phoned.” Kathryn said. “You are going to call the police—aren’t you?”

Peter ran a hand over his face. “Not yet,” he said. “I just have a couple more leads to check out and then I will, Kathryn—I promise.”

“The sooner you call the police the sooner they can help.”

“I said I will call them in a little while—get off my back, will you?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to call the police?” Peter could hear a slight tremble in Kathryn’s voice. “Just what are you involved in this time, Peter? Why would Christy have left like that?”

“That’s my business,” Peter told her. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of it.”

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Peter flipped his cell phone closed and sank down onto the sofa.

“Damn,” he whispered the words to himself. “Damn her.”

His eyes fell on the coffee table, on a pink origami flower that Christy had made in Kindergarten. Peter picked it up. In his mind’s eye she could still see her standing there, the flower clutched in her chubby fingers.

*~*

“I made it for you, Daddy.”

“Thank you, gumdrop—that’s real nice.”

*~*

She’d been such a cute little girl—Peter thought. Now that same little girl had betrayed him, lied to him—his eyes fell on the empty briefcase on the coffee-table—and stolen from him as well. With a sudden and vehement roar Peter clenched his fists, crushing the tiny pink paper flower in his grasp. Crumpled pieces fell to the ground.

‘I will find you Christy,’ Peter thought, “And then I’ll destroy you—count on that.” His daughter would have to wait for the time being, though—first he had a loose end to take care of.

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What had she done?

With a trembling hand Kathryn Blakeney replaced the cordless on its receiver. As she straightened she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—she walked closer, staring fixedly at her reflection. The paleness of her skin caused the bruise to stand out in sharp contrast—the bruise that Peter had given her. Kathryn’s fingers pressed into the bruised skin, wincing at the pain but welcoming it at the same time. It was no more than she deserved.

‘I ran off,’ she thought. ‘I ran off and left my child with a monster, and now Christy might have—” Kathryn couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought. If Peter wouldn’t take action, then she would. Again she picked up the receiver, dialing three numbers.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Kathryn Blakeney—I’m calling to report a missing child.—it’s my daughter Christy.”

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7:00 PM

There was a light tap on her door. Putting her book aside, Elana Maskhadov padded across the floor in her slipper feet.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s Peter—can you let me in?”

“What’s the matter, lost your key?” Carefully she undid the main lock and the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Oh my.” It was all Elana could manage at first as she took in her lover’s disheveled appearance. “What happened to you?”

“The walls are closing in.” Peter’s voice had a sing-song quality—his dark eyes unfocused, devoid of all emotion. Instinctively Elana stepped away from him. Her heart was pounding hard against her rib cage.

“What do you mean?” Elana asked. “Which walls are closing in?”

“All the walls,”

“Peter—don’t.”

“Oh yeah, Peter—don’t.” Peter moved steadily closer until Elana was backed into the wall—he put a hand on either side of her, effectively blocking her escape. “That’s why I can’t afford to have you around any more—to implicate me.”

“Please don’t.” Elana’s voice was trembling.

“I’m afraid I have to,” Peter said. “No loose ends, remember?” He moved even closer.

That was when Elana felt it—a dull pain in her gut. Looking down, she saw a patch of spreading red on her white shirt--the knife in Peter’s hand, dripping onto the carpet.

It was the last thing she saw before the darkness closed in completely.

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The Agency

9:15 PM

“I’m sorry to have to call you in at this hour, Lee,” Billy said. “But I couldn’t exactly tell you this news over the phone. How’s my goddaughter doing?”

“Fine,” Lee said. “Amanda’s at home with her now—because of all that’s happened we decided to keep her home until this is resolved.”

“Well with what I have to say that’s probably a wise decision.”

“Why?”

“Several things, actually,” Billy said. “The first is that Kathryn Blakeney called in to report her daughter missing—she said that her husband called her, frantic and asking about Christy’s whereabouts and whether she had stolen from him.”

“Stolen?” Lee repeated. “Then Christy probably has the information.”

“That would be my guess,” he said. “You might want to sit down for the next part.”

“Billy, just tell me.”

“The second part is that we’ve lost him--we've lost Peter Blakeney.”

Lee stared at Billy. “What the hell--how?”

Billy sighed. “The two agents assigned to Blakeney’s surveillance turned up dead this afternoon and that’s not all. Elana Maskhadov’s body was discovered in her apartment an hour ago—she was stabbed to death. Chess pieces by each of the bodies as usual.”

“This is just great.” Lee ran both hands through his hair. “This bastard has murdered several agents, hurt his family, threatened my child and we don’t even know where he is.”

“We’ve assigned extra men to protect your family, Scarecrow—there’s always the safe-house option as well—”

“No,” Lee said. “At least not yet—I don’t want to have to do that to Jenna..” He slammed his fist into his palm. “Things had just about gotten back to normal, Billy—and now—”

“Think about it,” Billy said. “Rest assured that in the meantime we’re doing all we can. We will find them, Lee—and we’ll find the information as well. Count on it.”

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9:18 PM

“Having trouble sleeping?” Amanda asked.

“Not really,” Jenna was sitting on her bed, the Scarecrow doll clutched to her chest. Her eyes were glued to the screen. “Just not very sleepy yet.”

“Mind if I keep you company?”

“No, I don’t mind. Just watching the Wizard of Oz.”

Amanda sat on the bed beside Jenna. Together they watched the Scarecrow and Dorothy as they skipped arm-in-arm down the yellow brick road

“You must have seen this movie at least a hundred times,” Amanda said.

Jenna smiled. “Two hundred, probably. But it never gets boring. Is Dad going to be home soon?”

“Very soon—he called five minutes ago to say he was on his way.”

“That’s good,” Jenna said. “Maybe it sounds silly, but I worry when everyone isn’t home.”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all—I worry too.” Amanda wrapped an arm around her daughter, pulling Jenna close.

“I always thought this part here was smart, you know,” Jenna said. “The thing that the Scarecrow does to trick the trees into giving them the apples?”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Now that I know about you and Dad though, it’s hard to look at this movie in the same way,” Jenna said. “How did Dad get the name Scarecrow?”

“He got it from a friend of your father’s—Paul Barnes—you met him when you were three but you probably don’t remember.”

“But why Scarecrow?”

.”That’s a long story, sweetheart—I think I should let your Dad tell it.” Amanda looked at the Scarecrow doll that Jenna held. “You know, I remember when your Dad got you that doll for Christmas.”

“I remember too,” Jenna said. “It was when I had the really bad flu.”

“That was the one.” Amanda smiled at the memory. “You had leg cramps and you just felt awful. I sent your dad out to get some gravy for the turkey and he brought home the Scarecrow doll instead. It was your favorite gift that year.”

“Yeah it was.” Jenna said. “Mom do you think that Christy will be all right?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda admitted. “But I do know that we’ll do everything we can to find her.”

“It’s just that I hate to think about her being out there all by herself.”

“I know,” Amanda said. “I feel the same way.”

A sudden thud from downstairs shook the entire house. Jenna gasped.

“Mom what was that?”

A second thud followed.

“Mom?” Jenna repeated.

“Sweetheart, just stay right here, okay?” Amanda said, thinking fast as she spoke. “Keep the door shut and I’ll be back in just a moment.”

“Okay,” Amanda heard the tremble in Jenna’s voice. “Just hurry back. And please be careful.”

“I will.”

Her heart pounding, Amanda slowly made her way downstairs.

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*Thud*

The noise came from the outside, Amanda realized. As she passed through the kitchen she grabbed a brass candlestick from the countertop. The motion-activated floodlights came on as Amanda went into the backyard, illuminating the entire area—nothing there, as far as she could see. Whatever it was, it was happening in the garage.

“Ma’am?” A man suddenly materialized beside Amanda. “I’m Agent Hudson.” He showed her his ID. “I’m checking out an unauthorized entry into your—”

“Into my garage, I know,” Amanda said. “Let me check it out, Agent Hudson—if I need you I’ll let you know.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Holding the candlestick overhead Amanda approached the side door of the garage.

“Help me!” a girl’s voice called out. “Somebody help—please?”

Amanda opened the side door and flipped on the light switch.

“Oh my gosh—Christy!” Dropping the candlestick on the ground, she knelt beside the fallen girl.

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9:45 PM

“My daughter’s all right?”

“Christy’s fine, Kathryn,” Holding the cordless against her ear, Amanda took the saucepan from the stovetop, pouring the now-steaming milk into two mugs. “She hurt her head when she had an accident in our garage but it’s really not that bad.”

“Thank God.” Amanda could hear the tears in her friend’s voice. “I was so worried. If anything bad had happened—”

Amanda thought back to the time that Jenna had been missing. “Oh believe me I understand—I know it feels like.”

“I know you do,” Kathryn said. “Amanda I know this is a lot to ask—but do you mind if Christy stays with you for a little while? I’m not too sure she’s safe with me.”

“Christy can stay here as long as she wants to,” Amanda heard sound of the key being turned in the lock. “Lee just came home, Kathryn—I’ll explain things to him and call you back later, okay?”

“Thanks— I owe you for this. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.” Amanda hung up the cordless just as Lee came into the room.

“Amanda what’s going on?” he asked. “Why is Jenna still awake and making up a bed on the sofa?”

“It’s Christy.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Christy Blakeney? She’s here?”

Amanda nodded, ripping open two cocoa packets and pouring the contents in with the milk. “She was planning on sleeping in our garage but she knocked over some boxes trying to find the light switch and they fell on her—luckily I’d gone out to investigate the noise and found her in time.”

“Was she hurt?”

“Well there’s quite a knot on her head but she should be fine,” Amanda stirred the cocoa and retrieved the marshmallows from the cupboard. “I gave her an icepack for it and she’s in Jenna’s room changing into a pair of pajamas.”

“Does she have the information we’re after?”

“She has a backpack,” Amanda said. “But she’s very protective of it right now—wants to keep it with her.”

“We need that information,” Lee said. “And Christy’s a witness—she’ll have to be questioned—you know that.”

“Not tonight.” Amanda put both of the mugs on saucers.

“Amanda—”

“I said no, Lee. What if Jenna was in this situation? This girl’s world has been turned upside down—I can’t even imagine how frightened she must be. Whatever we or the Agency need to ask—it can wait until the morning.”

Lee took a deep breath and blew it out. “You’re right,” he said. “We’ll wait until the morning.”

“What’s happening with Gambit?” Amanda asked. “I know you couldn’t tell me everything over the phone.”

“Well he murdered the two Agents who were keeping tabs on him,” Lee said. “Along with Maskhadov’s widow.”

“Same M.O.?”

Lee nodded. “The same. Right at the moment we have no idea where he could be.”

“And Jenna and Christy?”

“Well when Billy found out about the murders he assigned extra men to the watch,” Lee said. “There’s always the safe-house option, but that’s a last resort.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. “Amanda, we’ll do everything to keep them both safe—I promise you that.”

Amanda leaned her head against his chest. “I know you will.”

She just hoped that everything would be enough.

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Amanda tapped on Jenna’s door.

“Come in,” Christy said. Amanda opened the door. Christy stood there, wearing Jenna’s oversized Garfield nightshirt and a pair of striped neon-colored socks.

“Jenna said I could wear her crazy socks tonight,” Christy said “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Sweetheart of course I don’t mind,” Amanda said. “I brought you some cocoa with marshmallows.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Stetson.” Christy sat on the edge of Jenna’s bed. Wrapping her hands around the mug, she took a small sip. “I’m really sorry about those boxes in the garage.”

“I’m not worried about the boxes,” Amanda said. “How’s your head?”

“Well it hurts,” Christy said. “But I don’t think it’s that bad—just a bump. The icepack should help—thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Amanda said. “I called your Mother—she was glad to know that you were all right.”

Christy laughed shortly. “You mean she actually cares?”

“Christy of course she does—you know that.”

“What I do know is that she took off and left me with my fath—I mean—that creep.” Christy fell silent, looking down at her hands.

Amanda sat on the bed beside her. “It must have been frightening for you—running away like you did.”

Christy just shrugged, not meeting Amanda’s gaze. “The alternative would’ve been worse, believe me.”

Amanda wanted to ask what Christy meant, but she decided not to press her too far at this point. Now that she was closer she could see what Jenna had been talking about— the small bruises covering one side of Christy’s neck and collarbone.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Amanda reached out to pull the girl close but Christy pulled away like she’d been burned. Abruptly she stood.

“It’s really okay, Mrs. Stetson—I guess I’m just a little tired right now—I think I’ll go to bed if that’s okay.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Amanda said. “But you know if you need to talk we’re right here.”

“I know that,” Christy said. “And thank you—it means a lot.”

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Saturday, September 7, 2002

1:30 AM

“No!”

Jenna sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding furiously. Her nightshirt stuck to her back, and her breath came in gasps.

‘Only a dream,’ Jenna thought. ‘Nothing else--dreams can't hurt me.’

The moon shone down through her window, bathing her room in a dim light. Jenna looked around; taking some comfort in familiar objects as her breathing and heartbeat gradually came back down to normal. The only thing that wasn’t exactly normal was the inside of her mouth—it felt like it had been scraped down with sandpaper. Water would help. Jenna rose from the bed and went downstairs. A soft sound came from the family room—as she got closer Jenna realized that it was the sound of crying In the dim light she could make out Christy, curled up on the sofa, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

“Christy?” Jenna spoke her friend’s name softly, not wanting to startle her. She sat down on the sofa beside Christy.

“Jenna?” Christy sat up and looked up at her, one hand wiping at her eyes and nose. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Jenna said. “I came down for a glass of water.” She paused, not exactly sure of what else to say. “Want to talk about it?” she managed finally, knowing how lame that sounded.

“Not really.”

“Can I get you anything?”

A slight shake of the head. “You guys have done so much already,” Christy said. “Your family is so wonderful—I don’t— don’t know why my family can’t—why they aren’t like—”

Christy’s voice dissolved into sobs. Jenna put her arms around her friend, holding her while she cried. She could hear her own voice, telling Christy that it would be okay, that everything would work out and be fine.

TBC