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"Uh,yeah," Frank stammered, fumbling in the pocket of his tattered pants. Hepulled out a worn wallet and handed it over to Jake, who examined the contentswith furrowed brows.
"FrankLewis," he muttered under his breath, scrutinizing the photograph thatbore little resemblance to the disheveled man before them. Fiona peered overhis shoulder, taking it in. The birthdate indicated that Frank was well intohis sixties – far older than the man they were looking for.
Fiona'sheart sank. Jake's warm brown eyes flashed to hers, an apology written in them.
"He'snot our guy, Fiona," he breathed out.
Fionastared at the old man, her heart sinking as the weight of Jake's words sank in.Her fingers dug into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists, the bittertaste of disappointment filling her mouth. For a moment, she allowed herself toimagine what it would feel like to finally confront the monster responsible forJoslyn's disappearance and bring him to justice. But that moment had slippedthrough her grasp once again, leaving her with nothing but a cold, emptyfeeling of uncertainty.
"Dammit!"she hissed, kicking the rotting floorboards in frustration. The sound echoedthrough the abandoned house, mingling with the distant cries of night birdsoutside.
"Heynow," Frank protested weakly, his face creased with fear and confusion."I didn't mean no harm. Just lookin' for a place to sleep, is all."
Fionacalmed herself, realizing her out-of-character outburst. Shame settled overher. It wasn't like Fiona to lash out, but she couldn't help it--she felt likeshe was chasing a ghost, wasting so much time. But she felt bad for scaring Frank,who was clearly an innocent homeless man.
"Youtwo lookin' for someone?" Frank asked.
"Yeah,"Jake said, turning to him, "Damien Blackwood. Have you seen anyone elsehere?"
"No,just me," Frank said. "Never seen anyone named Damien here or anyoneat all. You two are the first."
Fiona'sheart sank further as the last ember of hope flickered out. They had searchedhigh and low, and still, there was no sign of Damien or any of the missinggirls. Frank's words confirmed what she had been suspecting - their leads hadled them nowhere.
"Let'sgo, Fiona," Jake said softly, placing a strong hand on her shoulder. Hiseyes conveyed a deep understanding of her pain but also a silent promise thathe wouldn't give up on their search.
As theyturned to leave the room, Fiona cast one last glance at the old man huddled onhis makeshift bed. She could see the weariness in his eyes, the years ofhardship etched into his face. For a brief moment, she considered what it wouldbe like to live her life in such a state – always searching for some semblanceof safety, never knowing if she'd find it.
"Takecare, Frank," Fiona whispered, her voice heavy. She couldn't shake thenagging thought that perhaps Joslyn was out there somewhere, experiencing asimilar existence – or worse, no longer alive at all.
"Thanks,Frank," Jake said, his voice gentle. "We'll be on our way now."
Fionalingered for a moment longer, her gaze fixed on the disheveled figure on thebed. There was something about him that tugged at her heartstrings, somethingthat made her want to stay and help him. The thought of leaving him alone inthat desolate place gnawed at her.
But italso wasn't her business. The best she could do for Frank was leave him inpeace.
As theydescended the creaky staircase and exited the decrepit house, Fiona clung toJake's arm, seeking comfort in his steady presence. The summer night air filledher lungs, but it brought her no relief from the suffocating weight of thisunending search for answers. Would she ever know the truth about her sister'sfate?
And ifshe did, would it bring her any solace?
CHAPTER TWO
The dimglow of the streetlight outside Fiona's apartment window cast elongated shadowsacross the room. Her heart felt like a heavy stone in her chest as she slumpedtoward the couch, discouraged and disheartened. As she hit the familiar,comfortable cushions, she closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight offailure pressing down on her.
"Hey,"Jake said gently. He crossed the room to sit beside her, his warmth animmediate comfort. "We'll find another lead. We always do."
Fionalooked at him, her partner in more ways than one, and nodded slowly. "Iknow. I just... I thought this was it, you know? The end of the road." Shesighed heavily, the ache in her chest deepening. Maybe she'd never find Joslyn.Maybe this was all a waste of time, but how could it be? Would the universe beso cruel? It felt like she kept getting closer and closer, only to have all herhopes ripped away.
Jakewrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. His touch was strong yet tender– a constant reminder of why they'd become partners in the FBI and, eventually,lovers. As he hugged her tight, Fiona relished in the feeling of finally beingwith him after so many months of not knowing if they'd work out. She wasgrateful to finally have Jake by her side, both on Joslyn's case--andromantically.
"Everytime we hit a dead end, it feels like we're starting from scratch," shemurmured into his shoulder, tears threatening to spill over.
"Exceptwe're not," Jake reminded her, kissing her forehead gently. "We'regetting somewhere, Red. We still have a name to work with, and I know how badlyyou want this."
Fionablinked back the tears, letting her gaze settle on his face. Their relationshipwas still new, but it felt right.
"DamienBlackwood," Jake mused, his fingers tapping on the arm of the couch in arhythmic pattern. "I'm starting to think that's not even his real name,but it's still something to work with."
Fionaglanced at him, furrowing her brow as she considered his words. It made sense –if Damien truly was the mastermind they believed him to be, he would have takenprecautions to ensure he couldn't be traced.
