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Lee Stetson sat staring down at the white slip of paper on his desk. It had been folded and re-folded until warped creases had appeared across its surface, creating a railroad track of lines around the lightly sketched image.
Earlier that day he had gone to meet his informant, Nightcrawler, outside a small mini-mall. Lee had tried to keep the hoarseness of two nights without sleep from his words as he sought something, anything, that might give him some sign as to Addi Birol and his latest victim's whereabouts.
But the news had been scarce.
Nightcrawler had whispered from her concealed perch in the photobooth about how Addi was as wary as always with his personal security. About how procedures were checked and double-checked. Nothing was left out. Nothing was left unguarded.
Lee could feel the desperation taking a viselike hold in his chest as the seconds slipped past along with any chance of his partner being rescued.
Amanda. Amanda King. His partner, his friend, his confidant, his...
...he'd taken a deep breath and pressed Nightcrawler for any hint, any detail, no matter how small. A long pause had ensued, then she'd told him of a small drawing taped to the bottom of the chair. Reaching down, Lee had pulled out the note and gazed silently at the image it contained.
It was a sketch, hastily rendered, but easily identified as Amanda's heart-shaped necklace.
Now, over an hour later, Lee sat in the darkening twilight of his office at the Agency staring at that drawing. Slowly, he reached out a callous-roughened finger and gently traced the diamond pattern. His gaze softened as a dozen images flitted across his mind...
Amanda sitting beside him on a stakeout, pulling the heart this way and that. "Do you think he's still in there, Lee?"
Amanda leaning over his desk, a triumphant smile on her face as she moved the bishop to queens on the chessboard, the necklace swaying forward, catching the light of the sun. "Checkmate, Stetson."
Another time, another moment. "The clasp is in front," he'd whispered.
"What?" She'd stared blankly up at him, her focus still on the performance up on the stage.
"The clasp. It's gotten turned around," he'd indicated.
"Oh," she said as her fingers reached up to feel the platinum chain. Deftly, she twisted the links and pulled the clasp around.
"You know, Mother says that we're supposed to make a wish when you do this," she spoke, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb the others in the audience.
"Well, then you'd better go ahead." He'd felt a smile pulling at his lips.
She clasped the pendant in one hand and squeezed her eyes shut. "I wish, hm..." her brow furrowed in concentration, "...I wish."
He watched her, endeared by the way her nose crinkled as she concentrated. "What did you wish?" he asked, curiously charmed.
She gave a low laugh, "Huh-uh, if you tell it won't come true."
And then there was that last memory of a dark night in a cardboard box. Her body huddled against his for warmth. The light from a distant street lamp had caught one of the diamond's facets and it had flickered at him, winking on and off like a tiny star in the blackness.
He had clasped her tightly to him, burrowed his face in her hair, and breathed deeply of the scent that he knew of only as Amanda. Trying to distract them both from the cold and lurking fear, he had asked her about the necklace, having long ago noted that it must have some very special meaning to her for she never took it off, never let it out of her sight.
But she had surprised him by chuckling and saying, "All these years you've known me and you're just now asking me that?"
"Yeah, well," he'd breathed into her ear, "I had other things on my mind."
"Oh, really?" Amanda said, shivering at the brush of his lips, "Like what?"
Lee growled softly. "Oh, you know," and trailed a kiss down her cheek, "bad guys."
"Oh, them," Amanda murmured, turning into his embrace.
Lightly he rubbed his lips against hers, appreciating the velvety texture. Her hands reached up to frame his face in silent encouragement, the terrors of the night momentarily forgotten. Then he'd kissed her.
Five full heartbeats later, their lips parted and several seconds passed before either was capable of speech. "So," Lee said in a low undertone, "are you going to tell me?"
She lay her head against his chest so that she could hear the beating of his heart. "No, I don't think so." Her voice was mischievous. "After all, I have to save some secrets for when we're old and gray."
And in the shadows of the freeway's underpass his repressed laughter had shaken the corrugated walls of their enclosure...
The memory slowly faded away, only to be replaced in Lee's mind by ones his own subconscious conjured as he imagined how Birol had managed to have Amanda's necklace in his pocket.
Past encounters provided the image of the dark swarthy face contorted in anger, cruel hands reaching out and touching delicate skin, fragile flesh bruising.
Convulsively, Lee crumpled the paper until it was obscured in his tightly held fist. The knuckles shone white under the pressure. A pulsepoint began to jump against the juncture of his jaw.
He had to find her. The Agency's "wait and see" policies be damned. He had to save her.
And in the darkening twilight, Lee Stetson began to plan. As he did, somewhere in the far corners of his heart was a small voice whispering, "I wish... I wish."