Well, that settles it then, we’re going to the police and we’re going to sit there and do nothing while they hopefully figure out how to get my best friend back. And if it doesn’t work out, there’s left-over lasagna to look forward to.
Sitting in the police department is uneventful. Kellan has been asking for answers for an hour and a half, but has gotten a grand total of zero. We’re all sitting in the entree hall, because like we expected, there isn’t anything we can do. Nobody is telling us anything, and Dean has retorted to singing Jailhouse Rock over and over again, driving me crazy.
“This is useless,” Kellan says as he finally sits down and stops pacing. He lets his arms rest on his legs and his head hang low. Don’t know why, but it’s that image that makes my brain come to life. I was all for staying home, letting the police do their thing, and I knew it was useless to come here, but this? Kellan’s defeat?
Oh, hell no.
I need to fix this, like right now. I don’t know why I’m wired like this, where this total randomness comes from. I think something went wrong when they installed my survival instincts. Like they attached the red wire to the blue one, and it sometimes creates sparks at these random moments, making me do crazy like shit. Because right now, I can’t handle Kellan’s hurt. Just can’t.
“You think they only took in the two guys that kidnapped Meggy, or do you think they got Parker as well?” I ask while all the detective shows I’ve ever seen flash in the back of my mind. I’m ignoring the scenes where people shoot or get shot, I’m just mentally standing in front of one of those boards, hanging up pictures and drawing lines and writing totally random words on it.
“Don’t know, nobody is telling me anything,” Kellan mopes. His voice gets louder on the second part of the sentence, making sure the police at the other side of the hallway can hear him. Such a rebel.
“But they obviously haven’t found Megs, right?” See, the radars are spinning in my head. But the guys don’t know that. To them, it must seem like I’m having a stroke, asking stupid questions.
“No, Mor, no Meggy found.” Jonah shakes his head, his eyes never leaving his brother.
“And we’re not at Guantanamo Bay…”
“What the hell are you rambling about?” O asks with a look of worry on his face.
So, the police took in lowlives, we haven’t found Meggy, the lowlives would probably rat the middleman out to save their own skin, because that’s exactly what they looked like on the security footage. So the fact that they haven’t found Meggy, must mean they don’t know the location where she’s at.
That, or she’s dead.
But I force that last thought to the very back of my mind, because I don’t have any brainspace left for it. My brain, that has suddenly become the brain of an investigator. I don’t think things like torture actually happen outside of movies and in obvious places like Guantanamo Bay, so that route doesn’t seem to be an option…
“I’m not rambling, I’m plotting.”
“We should’ve let her eat more before we came here,” Jonah mumbles.
I suddenly jump up from my chair. “Bait!”
“No, you should’ve eaten more food, not bait,” his green eyes assessing me in concern, not, as he should, in admiration. Because I just figured this out. God, I must’ve been Nancy Drew in a previous life. And these numbnuts just don’t understand.
“No, I mean I should be bait!” I look around, waiting for it to click in their brains, but obviously I’m the genius in this case and they’re just not fast enough to catch on.
“What’s your angle, Morgs?” Gil patiently asks. He hasn’t said much all evening, just silently observed.
“What if they let those guys fake kidnap me and then take me to the middleman, who takes me to their evil lair and then we get Meggy back?”
“Did you suddenly become like a superspy? You can’t just waltz in somewhere and take out a criminal operation,” Dean points out.
I sigh. “Don’t you watch any movies or shows? I’m so not listening to any of you when you want to talk about which detective shows are the best. You have no clue, Jon Snow. No, like, we do something with a tracker and then the police follow me and they save the day.”
That shuts them up. Ha.
Gil stands up, to where I’m practically skipping in anticipation. “Morgs, no.”
“Don’t you ‘Morgs, no’-me!”
“Like hell are you going to be bait! You panicked when Celia was breaking into O’s house, not even your own house, but now you want to willingly go into a criminal whatever-it-is? No. I’m not letting you,” he practically spits out, his eyes half an inch from mine. They’d spit fire right now if they could do that.
“You’re not my keeper!”
“No, but you could fucking use me as your keeper!” If he wasn’t infuriating me so much, the growl in his voice would turn me on right then and there. As much as I love Gil going all alpha on me, in this case it’s just not his call. Meggy is my friend, somehow I feel like it’s my fault that she’s kidnapped, and I really need to get her back. Even if it’s for my own sanity.
“Gil, you controlling asshole, I love you, but you need to back off. I really need to do this.”