Waiting For Sunrise

Irene paused outside of the police station. It was her intention to reveal herself, but staring at the old building with its stone steps and glass doors, her resolve crumbled. Now that she was faced with the reality of inevitable probing questions, she could not do it.

With a brimming well of anxiety throbbing in her veins, Irene took flight. She didn’t care where she was running; she just needed to flee. There wasn't any sense to be made of her actions, and in her state of mind, rationality was as foreign as distant stars.

Irene finally stopped and leaned over, placing her hands on her knees. There were no thoughts in her head. The only thing she was aware of was her panting and beating heart. Gradually, she lifted her head and stared at the large, brown building, with a large sign bearing a red cross. Another gust of anxiety hit her. Deep down she wanted to visit Jordan so he at least knew she was safe, but it was risky to go inside. Irene heaved a deep sigh. I might as well get it over with.

“Hello, I’m here to see Jordan Fisher,” Irene stated as she went to grab the chained pen, knowing she’d need to sign in. However, the lady to whom she spoke lifted her plump, red face and stared at her. Here it came, Irene thought to herself. There would be that look of recognition, and no doubt the woman would probe her with questions, and then phone the police. Irene had not anticipated that there was another reason for the woman's consternation. It was…

“Jordan Fisher was transferred to another hospital last night. I'm afraid I can't give you any more details than that.”

Blood contracted from Irene's extremities, rushing to her delayed heart. Her mouth became dry, and she tried to speak, but only interrupted syllables came out. Why would Jordan be transferred so suddenly? The only conclusion Irene could come to was that greater complications arose that the local hospital was not equipped to deal with. Irene looked around as though expecting to see someone walk over and correct the receptionist and inform her it was a clerical error. When no such person came, she stared down at the woman's hands, which hovered over a keyboard.

“But they said he was getting better!” Irene finally managed to say. The woman just shook her head.

“I am sorry,” was all that was said. Irene wanted to shake her and demand more information, but even in her distress, she knew the woman could not tell her. Irene hung her head, feeling her legs and hands trembling. Jordan was her last line of defense, her last bastion against the encroaching darkness. What if she never saw him again? Irene was so drawn into her own miserable worries that she did not hear the whispering all around her, nor did she notice people pointing and staring.

“Is that you, Ms. Locklyn?” like lightning piercing the sky, the voice struck through the darkness she had receded into. Irene shakily raised her head, staring at the people all around her. She cautiously nodded her head and instantly the whole room became animated. There were voices and faces, but Irene could not focus on them. They were fussing over her; her missing finger was a matter of inquiry. Irene just nodded or shook her head reflexively to questions and instructions. Everything was a blur right up until there were police speaking with her. She wasn’t really sure when they arrived, but she was so deep in herself that it hardly mattered.

Irene didn’t really awaken to everything around her until she was being led into a private hospital room. “We just need to ask you a few questions in a more private place… and process you, alright? There’s a good girl, just come along,” a middle aged man said. His arms were thick and looked fairly strong, although he guided her gently towards a bed. A nurse and his younger partner accompanied him. Irene remained quiet as the two officers said a few things among themselves. The younger man glanced at Irene, and then walked out of the room.

“Are you alright?” the man asked. Irene nodded dismally. Wasn’t this what she had fled from? However, she had no desire to run anymore. She just sat there, trying to digest the alarming news. Irene always tried to not need Jordan, but now with him gone when she needed him most, she realized she was only fooling herself. What if he dies not knowing how much she really cared? What if he thinks I am dead?

"As I said before, I'm Sergeant Emmerson from the MCU." He then gestured to the swarthy nurse accompanying him. "This is Marci Simmons, she is a forensic nurse. She'll collect personal evidence and make a record of your injuries."

"We'll need your clothes for evidence. If you could please take them off and put them into this paper bag and then put on this gown?" the nurse Simmons instructed. Irene closed the screen and quickly removed her clothes. It didn't occur to her to tell them she'd already showered and changed clothes since the incident. She just followed instructions while her brain continued to process.

During the processing another woman entered the room who was too sharply dressed to be hospital staff. She was middle-aged with her dirty-blonde hair twisted into a bun and carried a briefcase. "You couldn't wait for me to arrive?" She looked at the sergeant and nurse both critically. She then turned to Irene, forcing on a smile. "Hello Miss Locklyn, my name is Mrs. Gloria Evans. I am a social worker, and will be acting in your interests since we have been unable to reach your father. If at any point you become uncomfortable, let me know."

"Alright," Irene intoned. What evidence would they find? Irene recalled that Merle was fond of crime mysteries, but Irene didn't watch a lot of them. Irene groaned inwardly as her thoughts turned to Merle.

"Is something the matter?" Mrs. Evans asked. Irene's shook her head 'no'.

"Could you tell me what happened to your finger?" The questions had begun. Irene didn't mind them collecting evidence, but the questions made her insides churn. She was silent for a moment, but the officer stood there patiently.

"It was removed…" Irene muttered. Emerson pulled up a chair at the foot of her bed and leaned closer while Simmons was taking some photographs.

"By who?" Emerson prompted. Irene sighed, looking at her hand with the missing finger. The wrists were still bruised. She hated the sight of it, and quickly put it down, a shiver going down her spine.

Gently, Nurse Simmons asked her to hold out her hands palms up, then palms down, taking pictures of both positions. Irene chewed her lower lip. Emerson never took his eyes off of her. Mrs. Evans kept circulating glances between Irene, Marci, and the detective, but she remained silent and took notes. "It… I can't… telling you is pointless."

"No it isn't. We'll find whoever did this, and we'll make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else," Emmerson said softly, his eyes glancing over at Marci. She glanced up and nodded, giving a reassuring smile. She was back at her kit, grabbing some small paper envelopes.

"Don't push her. She doesn't have to tell you everything if she isn't ready," Gloria cautioned.

Emmerson sighed and nodded.

"How long ago did this happen?" Marci looked over the scar tissue where Irene's finger had been with evident confusion on her face.

"…I…. Um… I'm not sure..." Irene stammered. Time had become immaterial and immeasurable in these last weeks.

"How about we focus on when you and your friend were taken from the Vice Cream," Emmerson requested in as pleasant a tone he could muster considering the circumstances. That was a point of reference that Irene could work with.

"Okay." Irene paused, lowering her chin and eyes darting about as she organised her thoughts. "Merle and I walked to the Vice Cream after school," Irene began. Marci quietly requested her hands again, and began to scrape beneath Irene's fingernails. "We argued and I left. Merle followed me. As I was leaving I heard a gunshot. I saw a man with a rifle, and he fired again, I think. I know he fired a couple of times, but I don't think he hit anyone. He ordered Merle and I into the car; Merle first, then me."

It amazed Irene how she could talk about the encounter so calmly. Pressure was felt on her shoulder; Gloria was patting her shoulder reassuringly. At first, Irene wanted to slap her hand away, but she let it be. Irene watched as Nurse Simmons sealed and put away the trace that she collected.

Detective Emerson rubbed his chin. "Could you describe the man?"

"He had dark wavy hair. Caucasian male. He wore a black trench coat and a shirt with a skull on it. I remember him being called Matthew." Irene said. Emerson leaned forward, seeming excited to find a lead.

"Matthew? Any last name? And who called him that?" Emerson asked eagerly. Irene put out her hands.

"Just a moment… I'll get to that…" Irene said. She looked at her hands as she held them out, and watched them shake. She bit her lip for a moment, trying to get back to where she was. "We were taken to an empty church parking lot. I'm sorry, but I don't remember which one, but I think it was one of the ones on First Avenue. Then we were blindfolded and forced into a different car. It was something sporty with four doors and a dark red paint, but I don't really know much about cars. I didn't get a license plate number, either. We then were led into some sort of warehouse. I remember hearing the way footsteps echoed, and how the air felt so cold and damp. We were led down some stairs into a warmer room. That is where I heard his name," Irene recounted. She was starting to finally feel the anxiety as she brought herself to the part of the story that Gabriel was introduced.

"Thus far that matches your friend's description. But, her account isn't entirely…"

"She's not crazy, sir," Irene interrupted.

Emmerson straightened up, raising his eyebrows again. "She told us that vampires kidnapped her."

"Don't distress her, Sergeant," Gloria interceded.

Detective Emerson leaned forward. "We don't think she's crazy, we just in shock. Please, continue," he urged. Irene gave him a baleful stare.

"Fine. I recognized the other man's voice. Our blindfolds were lifted," she paused, chewing on her lip again. The thoughts of Gabriel still sent shivers down her spine. If they didn't, then she'd begin to worry that she was the crazy one. "He… he was the one who… who was responsible for the deaths of the other girls…"

"The other girls?" the officer asked. Irene looked away while Emerson and Simmons exchanged glances. "What other girls?"

"Katie, Tina, and Ashley! I was there, but I was too afraid to say anything," Irene said bitterly.

Emerson cleared his throat. "Miss Locklyn, Tina overdosed, and Katie drowned. But anything you might know about Ashley..."

"No! All four of us were abducted earlier this fall. They staged their deaths!" Irene insisted.

"Who are they? Who did this?" Emerson asked, leaning forward. Gloria shook her head, shooting him a warning look, and he straightened up, giving Irene space.

"I'm not really sure how to describe the men. I didn't actually see what happened to them - the other girls I mean. But I heard them screaming while I was brought to their boss…"

"Boss…? Why don't you tell me about this boss," Emerson asked.

"His name is Gabriel. I don't have a last name."

"Why don't you describe him to us?"

"I'll do my best. Let's see." As nerve wracking as it was, Irene conjured the image of Gabriel in her mind, her heart racing. She took some deep breaths until her heart began to slow back down. "He is tall. Definitely over six feet. He has a squarish jaw and pale skin. Clean shaven. His hair is long and blonde and straight, it reaches past the shoulders. His eyes are very pale blue. He has broad shoulders. He speaks with a hint of an accent and I've heard him say some phrases in French. At least, I think it's French. I never took French past grade eight," Irene derailed herself.

"That's a fairly good description; it will be very helpful. So how about we back track to when you, Tina, Katie, and Ashley were kidnapped," Emerson requested. Irene sighed and hugged her knees to her chest, not caring that she was only wearing a hospital gown. They had shaken her tree, and she just let the information tumble out.

"I was on my way home. I was walking along Sleepy Hollow, uh I can't think which cross street. It was dark and overcast. A man grabbed me and..." Irene reached to her neck, remembering the vice-like grip he had. "He knocked me out. I didn't get a good look at him. I woke up in a room with Tina, Ashley, and Katie. We all realized that we lived in the same area. Later, we were led into a room and told to get into a line. I was singled out from the rest of the girls and brought into another room, and interrogated about things… things I didn't know anything about. He cut me and left me bleeding. I passed out and awoke in the hospital…" Irene recounted in a tone bereft of expression. How could she work Cyrus into that story without telling them that he is a vampire? Irene rubbed her arms. "I... I lied to the doctor about how I got the knife wound, because I was scared. I said it was a drunken accident with some of my friends."

"So, were you interrogated again by this Gabriel? Is that how you lost your finger?" Emerson asked.

"Yes," Irene simply said, preferring to keep it simple. Emerson leaned back.

"Irene… if there is something you are into, it's alright to tell us. If this is about a gang, or drugs, we won't charge you if you give us more information," Emerson said. Irene shook her head.

"Now hold on. Before that line of questioning goes any further, Irene needs proper legal representation," Gloria butted in.

"Hey, if she wants to talk, it'd do all of us some good," Emerson responded, looking irritated.

"If this leads back to any organized crime, I don't want her name on record anywhere! She is vulnerable and I won't put her at any further risk!" Gloria insisted in a voice like a whip.

"No, it's fine, I'll answer. I'm not on drugs or in a gang. The only thing I did wrong was be in the wrong place at the wrong time," Irene responded, unfolding herself slowly. "I can't say anything more… I just can't. Please just leave me alone now."

"Are you sure you don't have anything else to-"

"She said she is done, sergeant. And you will respect her wishes and NOT bully her." Gloria cut in.

"I'm not bullying her! I'm just doing my job," Emmerson responded defensively.

"As am I. Now, would you please excuse yourselves?" Gloria stood up.

"Alright already. Ms. Simmons will run a few tests and check a few more things out, alright? Speaking of which," he turned and caught Marci's eye. There was a look of understanding between them and Emerson snapped his notebook shut, tucking it away in his pocket. "I'll leave you ladies alone." Emerson gave everyone a respectful nod before departing.

Nurse Simmons glanced at Gloria, then looked tenderly at Irene. "I understand you are getting tired, and this is emotional for you, but is there anything else that has been done to you?"

Irene stared at her blankly. She folded her arms over her chest, glancing away. "…No, I don't think so. Nothing other than what I already told you…"

"I see… even if that's all, would you still consent if I took a look for any other wounds?" Nurse. Simmons asked. "I'd need you to remove your robe, and would need to photograph and document any..."

"No!" Irene said forcefully, shaking her head. Simmons seemed slightly startled by her abrupt refusal. Before she could say anything, Irene glanced up and looked her in the eye. "I don't consent!"

"Irene… I understand it's frightening, but it would be best if we were to examine you, to help catch the offender, and for your own health," Simmons said, trying to keep a balance of firmness and tenderness in her tone. Irene shook her head again.

"This is enough. You asked for her consent, and she has refused" Gloria chimed in, looking at Ms. Simmons crossly.

"It IS frightening!" Irene exclaimed. "These men have stripped away my sense of security, my dignity, and my hope! I was treated like some animal. I don't need people gawking at me like a puzzle to solve, taking notes, taking pictures! What I need is my privacy back! My boundaries!"

Nurse Simmons gave Irene a sad nod. Irene covered her eyes with her hand, feeling exposed and vulnerable and hating every moment of it. "It's all right now, Irene. You are safe." Gloria reassured.

"I want to go home!" Irene said loudly. "I can't deal with any of this, please let me go home!"

Gloria stood up and went behind Irene, placing her hands protectively on her shoulders. Irene really wished she wouldn't touch her, but didn't say anything. After a moment or two, Simmons sighed. "I'm sorry. The doctor does need to see you before we can discharge you, though." Simmons passed Irene a card. "If you think of anything, call this number. And this here is your case-file ID. Make sure you keep it in a safe place."

Irene nodded and took the card. She had little choice but to sit there and await a doctor's decision. Gloria loosened her gargoyle-like grip and sat down on a chair by Irene, while the nurse took the regular gamut of vitals before leaving. Irene looked uneasily at Gloria. Irene just wanted to be alone.

"I'm sorry that was so hard on you Irene." Gloria took Irene's hands in her own, frowning sympathetically. Irene didn't like the feeling of her hands, they were cool and a bit clammy. "As soon as the doctor has seen you, I'll drive you to your house. I understand your father is out of town. We can't let you stay home alone in these circumstances..."

Irene did not like where this was going. Forgetting about what dwelt in her basement, she wanted to be home. She wanted to be alone. Why did she have to come to the hospital? Why? "My father will be home in a few days. I can take care of myself."

"I'm sorry, but for everyone's sake I must follow protocol." Gloria said, rubbing the back of Irene's hand. Irene winced, and Gloria quickly let go. Her wrists were still raw from the shackles. "This is what will happen. I will personally take you to your house. There, you can gather some clothes and other personal items. Then I will take you to a safehouse for youth, where you will stay until your father comes and collects you. Victim Services will be in contact with you, providing counseling and legal support." Gloria explained. Irene's countenance fell into despondency. Perhaps this safehouse would keep her out of Gabriel's reach for a time. Maybe it was best. But there were other concerns weighing heavily upon Irene.

"Is Merle also in a safehouse?" Irene asked. Gloria looked uncomfortable as she shook her head.

"I can't divulge another minor's details. I'm sorry," Gloria responded.

Irene dug her teeth into her lower lip. "Please. For my own sake, I need to know that she is safe," Irene pressed.

"Merle is safe," Gloria reassured. Irene squinted, not satisfied with that statement.

"I need to see her myself. Is she at home? Can you take me there before we go to the safehouse?" Irene was tired of letting things go. She was going to get her answers, and she was going to make sure her friend was taken care of.

"I'm sorry but I can't-"

"Well then I'll phone her mother and ask. NURSE!" Irene cut Mrs. Evans off, standing up.

"Irene, please! It won't do you any good, her mother won't answer!" Gloria blurted out. Irene sat down again, looking attentively at Gloria.

"What do you mean, her mother won't answer?" Irene asked guardedly. Gloria sighed.

"You didn't hear it from me, but Merle is in Surrey, getting specialized care," Gloria reluctantly shared. Mrs. Evans' brown eyes darted side to side, her thin red lips tugging down into a frown. "Now, please settle down Irene. Both of you are going to be taken care of."

Everyone was being sent away. Her father left on a sudden business trip. Jordan was transferred to another facility, likely in Vancouver. And now Merle had been taken to Surrey. All of this seemed too much to just be a coincidence. Irene eyed Gloria suspiciously. Did Gabriel have connections to the police? To the medical industry? Even in social services? Is that how he'd managed to break his own rules about who he fed on? Just how connected was Gabriel? Irene began to shake. Was she being led into another trap?

But what could she do? She couldn't just run off. No. Not without somewhere to run to. What if she broke the truth open so widely, that it couldn't be ignored or explained away? Irene sat back down on the bed, searching Gloria's face for guilt or doubt. Seeing that searching look, Gloria raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.

"Are we okay, now, Irene?" Gloria asked. Irene nodded mechanically as the gears began to turn.

"Yes. But I have a request. Could you go see if that nurse... um... Simmons was it? Could you see if she is still here? I want to talk to her," Irene asked, watching Gloria's face very carefully.

Gloria's eyes widened briefly, and she saw a flash of lines on her forehead before she smoothed her face out. "I don't think that'd be a very good idea just now, Irene. You still seem agitated," Gloria said calmly.

Irene shook her head. "I'll be agitated until I can get this off my chest," Irene snapped.

"Then you can tell me, Irene. You can trust me," Gloria insisted. "And if I think Sgt. Emerson ought to know, I will forward it along."

Irene shook her head vehemently. "No. I want to talk to her. Her specifically."

Gloria sighed. For just a moment, Irene thought she saw fear in the woman's eyes. Fear? But Gloria smiled, resigned as she nodded. "I'll go see..."

Irene stood up and walked past Gloria. "No, I'll go..."

"Irene, you need to wait for the doctor!" Gloria insisted. Irene stepped out into the hall, looking around.

"Nurse? Nurse! Hi. Sorry, can you see if Nurse Simmons is still here? I need to talk to her! It's important!" The nurse looked like a deer caught in headlights, as if not quite sure what she should do. She could see her looking beyond her, and Irene looked over at her shoulder, where Gloria was shaking her head. Another nurse who was in the hall smiled at Irene.

"I'll go and fetch her," the second nurse said obligingly. Gloria couldn't stop her, and the first nurse just shook her head in exasperation and continued about her job. Irene strode back into the examination room she was in, readjusting the ties on her hospital gown before sitting back down. Gloria stood by the door, arms crossed, expression pensive.

"What have they threatened you with?" Irene asked bluntly.

"I'm sorry, what?" Gloria asked, startled by Irene's question.

"You're scared, and you have been trying to keep me from talking too much. So what are you being threatened with?" Irene asked. Gloria stared at Irene a while longer. She saw a few dimples form in her chin and a quiver of the woman's lower lip before she regained control. Her eyebrows raised, but her eyes were half lidded.

"I don't know what you are implying, Irene. I am just protecting you from a system that will steamroll anyone to get their answers. Minors are too often taken advantage of," Gloria insisted, waving a hand dismissively. "You're the one who is in danger, Irene, not me."

Irene stared at Gloria a while longer. The woman tried to look disarming, but as Irene's gaze remained on her, her face hardened. "Alright," Irene relented. "I guess I'm just seeing dangers that aren't there..." Irene said, casting a glance to the side.

"That's normal. Just tell me how I can better reassure you, Irene," Gloria said as tenderly as she could, but there was a small catch in her voice. Irene didn't look at her. Gloria Evans had something to hide, of that Irene was certain.

"I don't know," Irene responded blandly as she tugged at her gown to make sure it covered her knees.

Soon, Nurse Simmons returned, peering curiously at Irene. "You asked for me to come back?"

"Yes!" Irene's demeanour towards the forensic nurse improved significantly. She held up her hand where the finger was missing. "The finger that they found in the warehouse, it's fresh, right?"

Marci Simmons looked uncomfortable. Gloria quickly looked down, her hands clasping together tightly over her briefcase handle. Marci cleared her throat. "That's what I heard, but I'm not an investigator, just a forensic nurse."

"How long would it take for a wound like that to heal?" Irene asked.

"Two to six weeks, depending on various factors," Marci answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"So I can't have lost my finger recently. In all the samples you took, you have my DNA, right?" Irene further asked.

"Yes," Marci responded, waiting for Irene to get to her point.

"Irene, you really shouldn't be wasting Nurse Simmons' time. She already told you she's doesn't have all the details of the case," Gloria warned, an edge creeping into her voice. Irene gave her a sideglance, but then focused back on Marci. Marci put up a hand.

"It's fine. Go on, Irene."

"The finger will match my DNA," Irene said confidently. Marci and Gloria looked at each other. Gloria laughed and Marci looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me," Gloria said, covering her mouth with her hand. "But that's impossible, isn't it, Nurse?"

"It is." Marci frowned.

"Irene, I know you've been through a lot. If you were abducted a previous time, it's very possible you are conflating the two incidents, and your finger was removed earlier," Marci said, worry lines etched upon her brown brow.

"I was admitted here with septicemia after my last abduction. I had all of my fingers then," Irene refuted.

Gloria drew in a sharp breath. "Perhaps we should get her evaluated, nurse. She's not making sense," Gloria said quietly, eyeing Irene.

"I'm not crazy."

"No, of course you aren't, but you've been through a lot," Gloria said soothingly.

"Yes, I have, and none of you have any idea just all that's happened." Irene sighed and looked around, her hands folded in her lap. "Meet us at my house, Nurse. There's some evidence there I think you should collect."

Marci's almond-shaped eyes shifted side to side as she chewed on her full lower lip. Gloria shook her head and rose to her feet. "This is highly irregular, Irene," Gloria chided.

"Please, Nurse Simmons. I need you to visit me at my house before sundown before I can go to the safehouse. Time is of the essence," Irene urged.

"Irene, this goes against protocol. She needs to call in a team and make arrangements, and I also need to stick to the plan. Nurse Simmons isn't trained to collect evidence from a scene, only from victims," Gloria insisted. Her knuckles went pale as she gripped her briefcase handle even tighter.

"No, no, I can radio the boys and let them know. If Irene has something to share, a forensic team can meet Irene-"

"No. It has to be you, Nurse Simmons. It has to be you!" Irene insisted. Irene was taking a risk in trusting anyone, but Marci seemed interested enough in the truth without being too keen, suggesting to Irene that Marci wasn't involved. She could not be sure about anyone else.

"Irene..." Nurse Simmons sighed, her eyes dropping and brow furrowed. She appeared conflicted, but she finally nodded. "Alright, I can meet you at your house."

Gloria frowned, but did not argue further. She stared out a window for a moment and then looked back at Irene and Marci. "Alright then. But you still need to wait for the doctor..."

"Speak of the devil," Marci said as a man wearing gray scrubs walked in.

"I'm a devil now, am I?" the doctor asked, breaking the tension with a charming smile.

After rushing the gauntlet of medical questions, and a quick check up, the doctor was satisfied that Irene did not need to extend her stay and could be released into the custody of social services. He gave her a prescription for an ointment for her wrists, cautionary antibiotics, and discharged her.

"Ready?" Gloria asked once Irene had changed into some scrubs she was given, since her clothes were in evidence. Irene looked at Marci, who nodded to her.

"I'll meet you there," Marci said. Irene then nodded to Gloria. And the three of them left the hospital.