Adrift by Homeric

It doesn't take long for John to drive to Grayson Kent's home. The lawyer's abode is a three story Town House with simple elegant lines. Unfussy but expensive â€“ shades of the man who owns it, John thinks. He's seen photographs of Kent and recognises that the deceptively simple suits he favours come with a very hefty price tag. The Bentley is parked outside, the motor turned off but the chauffeur is still in situ, reading the newspaper he has propped on the steering wheel. The back seat is empty however and there is no sign of Jacey. Reese parks his clean but not particularly new Range Rover a little further up the road and waits.

"Harold?" It takes a moment for his employer's voice to come through the ear-piece.

"Mr Reese? Is there a problem?"

"Not really."John keeps his eye on his surroundings. No-one seems to be paying him any attention but getting a parking ticket while doing surveillance would be a bit embarrassing. "Do you have any information on Miss Brundett's siblings? She's probably frightened and I can't see her trusting me unless she has an incentive to do so."

"Good thinking Mr Reese." Harold sounds almost proud. "Give me a moment and I'll brief you on everything I know."

It's almost an hour before the front door to the Town House opens and a young woman steps out. She wears a long coat and her hair is curled up in a loose bun. But for her youth and the way that she stumbles slightly as she walks to the car, she would barely have merited a second glance in this quiet neighbourhood. The chauffeur gets out and opens the back door for her, and within a moment the sleek Bentley is on the move. John waits for a moment before following them, careful to always remain inconspicuous without losing his target. There is no reason for the driver to be suspicious and he certainly doesn't seem to be in any hurry, but Reese is careful nonetheless. After a while it becomes clear that their destination is East Broadway and the car finally stops beside a small, slightly scruffy apartment block bracketed by a busy laundrette and a Chinese restaurant. John slows down as the girl gets out of the Bently and steps carefully up the front steps before disappearing into the building. Parking his car around the corner he feeds the meter a handful of change and heads back to the apartment block.

The doors to the building are open, the small lobby space drab, dank and smelling of things that Reese doesn't want to think about. On the left a row of numbered mailboxes are bolted to he wall, to the right a staircase heads up to the next floor. Sat upon the bottom step a small boy of Latino origin watches him with curious dark eyes.

"Hi." John smiles at the child and tries to look friendly. "Do you live here?"

After a moment of obviously deciding whether or not the stranger should be engaged with the boy gives a short nod. John crouches down and rests his arms on his knees in an attempt to look less threatening before meeting the boy's gaze. "I'm looking for a friend of mine who just came in a minute ago. A young lady called Jacey; do you know her?"

The boy stiffens and his eyes turn suspicious. "Jacey's nice. She gives me peanut butter cups sometimes."

Reese nods in understanding. "I think that Jacey's in trouble and I want to help her. Do you know which apartment she's in?"

The boy obviously wavers between answering and bolting past him, but eventually he nods once again. "She's in number fifteen. The bad man yelled at her when she went in. I don't like him, he's mean."

"Well I think I'm going to have to have a talk with that bad man," John says softly. "What's your name?"

"Eduardo." The boy's eyes widen when Reese takes a five dollar bill from his pocket and gives it to him.

"This ought to keep you in peanut butter cups for a while. Why don't you go out and spend it?" Eduardo doesn't need asking twice, scampering through the door and out of sight.

John takes the stairs two at a time. The threadbare carpet doesn't do much to muffle his footsteps, but by the time he's halfway down the hallway he gives up on stealth anyway. The sound of a woman sobbing and a man's voice shouting in anger gets louder as he reaches the door of apartment fifteen. He doesn't bother knocking. Without breaking stride he draws his gun and kicks the door open; the muscular young man pinning the young woman to the bed barely has time to realise that they have company before John has dragged him up and slammed him against the wall.

"If you take a woman to bed and she starts crying, you're doing it wrong." He punches the man in the stomach and lets him slide to the floor. Looking behind him he sees Jacey watching, her eyes almost comically wide. She glances quickly at the open doorway and Reese gives a quick shake of his head. "I'm here to help you â€“ try running and you won't get far anyway." She slumps back against the headboard at that, tucking her legs up against her chest.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man he's just taken down is struggling to his feet, and John lets him, giving him the once-over. Caucasian, early thirties, well muscled but lacking the tattoos or shaved head of Neo-Nazi gangs. Blond hair, blue eyes, preppy if it were not for the surroundings and the malice that practically radiated from him. John waits for him to go for the gun tucked in the waistband of his designer jeans before snapping his wrist and elbowing him in the face. His nose gives way with a satisfying crunch and this time the man does not get up when he drops to the floor.

Taking the gun, the wallet and cellphone he finds in the man's pockets, John turns his attention to the girl huddled on the bed.

"Jacey." He keeps his voice soft and calm as though she were a frightened animal. "My name is John. I meant what I said. I'm here to help you, I promise that I won't hurt you."

"Why?" She's so tense that the flimsy iron bedstead is rattling against the wall in time with her shivers. "What's one more whore to anyone? If you wanted another girl for your stable then why didn't you just buy me. I'm the one who's going to pay for this."

"You don't belong to anyone. Not any more." Reese shrugs his coat jacket off and hands it to the young blonde. Her dress is ripped and it was skimpy to start with. She eyes the expensive material with distrust. "You're someone to Kacey and Tina," he says quietly. "And your twin brothers, how long since you've seen them?"

Jacey takes a deep shuddering breath. Despite the make-up smeared by the tears running down her cheeks and the red bra showing through her shredded dress she looks far younger than her years.

"Have you seen them?" She asks shakily. "Are they OK?"

"Don't worry, they're fine," He keeps his distance when she takes his jacket and pulls it over her shoulders. "But I bet they miss their big sister."

"I miss them too." She gives him a searching look. "Why do you want to help me?"

"It's my job." John gives her his best smile and isn't offended when she laughs slightly hysterically.

"Like Batman. But without the cape. Do you have an Alfred to bring you tea in the morning?"

"Capes don't suit me." This time when he looks at Jacey she gives a faint smile back. "I'm the one who buys tea for my Alfred."

"He's not a very good butler then." There's still a faint trace of a southern accent in her voice that hints at a charm that has been all but beaten out of her. John can almost hear the "click" in her brain when she decides to trust him.

"He's not, but he is a very good friend. We should go now, it's not safe here."

"Alright." At the mention of her siblings Jacey's eyes had brightened as though any sort of hope had energised her. Wriggling off the bed she looks at the man lying in a crumpled heap in the corner. "What about him?"

"He'll be taken care of." Jacey gives him a nervous look and he amends the statement. "I have a couple of friends in the police force that deal with people like him, and no," Reese says when she opens her mouth to protest. "You aren't in any trouble."

No-one gives them a second look when they exit the building and Jacey doesn't baulk when John helps her into the Range Rover. She puts her seatbelt on and pulls her short skirt down over her knees primly. There's a bruise forming on her cheekbone and scrapes on her knees. Reese resists the urge to go back to the apartment building and finish off the blond, preppy pimp for good.

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"Wallmart?" When Reese turns into the parking lot of the store Jacey gives him a confused look. "This is kind of a strange time to go shopping."

You don't have any clothes other than what you're wearing and that's not suitable for going out in public," John says firmly. "I'm going to get you something more comfortable. Write down your dress and shoe size on here." He unlocks the glove compartment and gives the young woman a notepad and pen. She hesitates for a moment before scribbling down her measurements.

"Thank-you." He tears off the page and folds it into his hand. "I'm going to be back as fast as I can, but I need you to stay down and keep out of sight. If you feel that you are in any danger then I want you to lean on the horn and I'll come running. Do you understand?"

She gives him a searching look before nodding and sliding down in her seat.

"Good girl." John locks the doors behind him and makes his way to the store as quickly as he can without drawing attention to himself. Grabbing a basket he heads towards the women's wear and snags a couple of pairs of jeans and a three pack of T-shirts in her size along with a pair of sneakers, two sweaters and a duffel coat. Underwear is a bit more tricky â€“ he feels a bit like a pervert looking at the array of lacy little nothings and the coquettish cut-outs of models advertising them. Jacey hadn't given her bra size but she's a little smaller than Jessica he thinks. Giving up on guessing, John selects three plain white bras in different sizes along with two multipacks of plain bikini briefs. He can't imagine her relaxing around him unless he's proven that he doesn't have any ulterior motives and reassurance can sometimes be as simple as being fully clothed.

As an afterthought he swings by the frozen food isle, tossing in a packet of pastry and picking up a couple of cans each of condensed milk and purÃ©ed pumpkin before adding a couple of sachets of nutmeg and and ground ginger. There's probably something he's missed from the recipe in Harold's book, but he's not going to risk Jacey's safety for the sake of making a pumpkin pie. Even if it is for Joss.

After paying for his purchases and shoving them into plastic bags, John carefully scans the parking lot before jogging over to his vehicle. Jacey peers up from the stairwell of the passenger seat and he gives her a smile before tossing his purchases onto the back seat.

She doesn't say anything when he unlocks the door and starts up the engine. Reese has the feeling that she's too tired and has lost the will to fight anyway. She smiles though when they get to his place, eyes wide as she takes in the scale of his apartment, the bright lights of the city outside the huge windows. He gives her the bags of clothing and gently pushes her towards the bathroom. When she comes out a good half an hour later her hair is damp and her face scrubbed. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans she hesitantly goes over to the kitchen, quietly watching as John tries to decipher the instructions on the packet of pastry.

"Pumpkin Pie?" She wrinkles her nose up at his choice in filling after perusing the variety of cans on the side-board. "Not the best choice but still salvageable."

"I'm following the recipe in the book. " Reese holds up the orange book that Finch had recommended. "It's sold five million copies."

"It's ghost-written and the woman in the photo is a size zero. Would you really think she'd eat anything in that?"

John keeps his attention on the lump of pastry on the counter that remained anything but malleable despite the promises on the packaging. Jacey takes a couple of steps closer, obviously waiting to see what he would do before finally relaxing a little.

"Honestly the last time I was invited to a Thanksgiving meal I was a kid and didn't have to cook. I'll take all the help I can get," he continues. "Maybe you could help me and we could order pizza. Do you like pizza?"

Jacey picks up a packet of ground nutmeg and raises an eyebrow. "You're really weird you know," she says eventually.

"Pizza it is then." John takes the nutmeg out of her hand gently. "I'm going to need to know what happened to you Jacey."

She hesitates, looking around his place. It's not very comforting for a young, traumatised woman, John thinks. There are no pictures on the wall, no ornaments on the shelves or postcards pinned to the refrigerator. To her it must seem utterly sterile. Without thinking John pulls out his cellphone and scrolls down to find what he is looking for. He'd been on surveillance and Joss hadn't known that he had been following her at the time. The photo is a brief moment when she'd tossed the crust of her sandwich to a couple of sparrows. The birds are squabbling and she is laughing at their antics, eyes bright and utterly beautiful.

"The pie's for her."

Jacey takes the phone and gives a slow sad smile. "Turn the oven on, you can't do anything unless it's pre-heated even I know that. I'll talk and we can both cook."