The next morning Danny used his commute into work wisely. He was feeling better after his talk with Vivian and had gotten a good night’s sleep to boot. He’d realized anew the chances Jordan still had at her disposal, and he planned to help her realize the same.

Danny made the trip through the city every day, and every day the overwhelming swarm seemed to gain two or three more gas-guzzling vehicles. Driving through New York City during rush hour was like riding a bike through wet cement. You were lucky to move, let alone get to where you wanted to go. However, the stressful drive put him in the mood to make a few phone calls…one of which was to NYPD. He was using one of those hands-free phones, a present given to him jokingly by Samantha last Christmas. It was one of the best gifts he’d ever gotten.

When the receiver picked up, the background noises of the precinct met his ear. “Detective Sanders. NYPD.”

“Hey, Frank.” Reaching over to his glove box, Danny grabbed a dark blue tie and draped it over his neck. “It’s Agent Danny Taylor.”

“How you doing?” he asked out of courtesy.

“Not bad.” Danny skipped the small talk. After their last meeting, he wasn’t feeling especially friendly. “You mentioned something about a clearance list last time we talked, which would allow me to see Jordan before trial.”

The detective took a moment to shift gears. “I did.”

“Uh-huh.” Traffic started moving. “I’d like to visit her as soon as possible. I want to look into getting her some coherent legal advice. The court appointed lawyers at juvenile court make Jim Carrey look like a better defense attorney.”

Frank snorted over the line. “Alright,” he sighed. “I can get you in to see her, but there’s some guidelines I need you to follow. These facilities have strict rules, even for cops.” He waited a moment. “You gonna take these down?”

Moving through traffic lanes, Danny cut someone off on the road and got flipped off by the guy driving the SUV behind him. “I’m taking it down,” he said unfazed.

“You’ll need your badge to get in, unless you want to wait in visitor’s hell and waste half your natural life doing so. The facility runs like a women’s prison. Kiddie-jail. They have menial labor during the day, so visiting hours last from six ‘til ten at night. Anything after that, they’ll send you away, even if you’re FBI.”

Though familiar with the Northeast facility, Danny made a mental note. “Point taken.”

“Okay, two more things. One…I’m going to write you in as a legal advisor, pro-bono, I feel it’s safe to say. Now, I know you’re in your car, so listen closely to this next part because it’s very important.” Focusing on the road in front of him, Danny did as requested. “I know when you’re planning a defense, you look for every way to get ahead. But when doing that, you leave my department alone. I don’t want to hear police brutality. I don’t want to hear questioning procedure. I don’t even want to hear false terms of arrest.”

In his car, Danny frowned a little, aggravated by the lecture.

Frank softened his voice. “I know you’re sore about the convent, the things I said about that friend of yours. But I’m doing you a favor on this. We go back a long way, Danny, ever since that internship of yours. But dick me over…and I’ll never look at you again.”

Danny rolled his eyes, glad that Frank wasn’t there to see it. He’d treated him this way ever since their internship, like if given the chance Danny might single-handedly take down him and his entire department. It always left him with a bad taste in his mouth. “I would tell you to trust me, Frank. But that’s never been an option.”

Frank sighed on the phone, the whole conversation making him a little tired. “Well, I didn’t get where I am by making friends.”

As traffic became more and more congested, Danny muttered a curse, keeping the phone pinned between his ear and shoulder. “When’ll I be on the list?”

“Two days. Tops.”

Traffic shifted, and a two-ton tractor-trailer nearly plowed his car into a pile of scrap metal. “Hey!” Danny screamed, rolling down his window. He lowered his voice to normal on the phone. “Thanks, Frank. We’ll be in touch.” He yanked on the cord and tossed it into the empty passenger’s seat.

“Hey!” he shouted at the truck. “Where’d you learn to drive? Brooklyn?!”

The truck driver responded with a small blast from his steam stack. Figuring now that the driver deserved it, Danny leaned in and laid on the horn.

- - - - -

The commute to work set a pace for Danny’s day. By late morning, the team got a call that a young Latino boy was missing, which undoubtedly meant that he would have to return to a part of his old neighborhood.

He hid his aversion at the very idea with a smoothness that was more personality than any conscious effort. “Who’s the last person to see him?” he asked as he studied the points on the disappearance timeline.

“His mother,” Martin told him. “She gave him a kiss good-bye before he left to visit the local vegetable stand.”

The conversation caused him to fall into routine. Danny found himself smirking. “Vegetable stand, huh? Makes me wonder what else is on the grocery list…”

Martin played along, like he always did. “Bet you five bucks it’s more than eggs and milk.”

Danny nodded and lifted his jacket. “You’re on.”

Day gave way into night. The boy was found, although in poor condition from the exploits of his drug-dealing counterparts. He was returned to his parents, and though Danny was haggard and jaded from the last couple weeks, he made it a point to watch the young boy running into the awaiting arms of his family.

Whenever that happened…whenever a child was returned unscathed into the loving arms of his parents, Danny had to smile. It may have been a tired smile, but that didn’t stop it from appearing on his face, even at the end of his day.

When Danny and Martin returned to the office, Jack was there to greet them. “Good work out there today,” he said.

Danny had tried for years to stop himself from putting too much stock in Jack’s compliments. But so rare and so genuine were the comments coming from Jack that it was near impossible not to take pride. “Thanks,” he said. Looking around, he unclipped his cell phone from his side. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make a phone call…”

Coming out of the break room just in time to hear the comment, Samantha’s smile edged to the side. “Girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

She almost dropped her coffee mug. “Really?!”

Danny turned around. “Gotcha.”

Dodging a sugar packet she threw at him, he disappeared out of the room and into one of the conference rooms held off to the side.

Letting out the door swing shut behind him, Danny dropped down into one of the plush swiveling chairs. The conference rooms in the Missing Persons Unit were designed with muted colors and simple furnishings. During their working hours, they dealt with people under enormous stress. Distraught families, suicidal teenagers, sleazy businessmen, kidnappers… The rooms had been constructed with their clients in mind, to keep an atmosphere that would help them keep their composure.

But even with the professional motif and the familiarity of the room, Danny felt ill at ease. He had gone all day, being completely professional and completely in control his surroundings. Only now in the sudden quiet of the empty conference room was he hit with the weight of his troubles. Danny took a few seconds to keep his emotions in check and to mentally gather a plan of action. He had already called Frank and set up an appointment with Jordan.

But Frank wasn’t the one he wanted to call. He hit speed-dial. He listened to the phone ring at its usual location and hoped that Sr. Rachel would be there to pick it up.