WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This is an original story with grief, violence, lies, accusations, recriminations,….its starting sound like some kind of political campaign, isn't it? But it's not. I refuse to write anything as scary as politics. Anyway, this ain't the usual stuff. Try it. You might like it. Besides, it's free. Not much is free now so take what you can get.

FEEDBACK: Let me know what you think p.phair@comcast.net

Chapter 2

June 1999

by phair

Simone Sydney-Sebastian did not feel like a wealthy woman this chilly and rainy night. Even with body guard following three steps behind her and a limousine trialing fifty or so foot behind that, Simone felt bankrupt. She had been striped of one of the few true valuables life has to offer.

"My Sage," she murmured like a prayer, "my sweet child, come home. I promise you, I'll set this right."

She raced off to find the girl no more than fifteen minutes after putting Brooke in an ambulance. Leaving her injured daughter to the care of her husband, J. Granville, did not come easy but she was twenty years younger than her spouse and better able to search the heartless city streets for a frightened and running teenager.

Simone had no doubt that Sage would race toward Boston. It was the girl's favorite place and easily accessible by public transportation from their home. Many days, after school, Sage would travel to the city to see J. Granville at their company's central office in the Harbor Bostonian Hotel. The century old hotel was being refurbished by their company, Sebastian/America, to be the crowning centerpiece to their reign as the architectural firm of record in the east. Simone worried about the young girl taking buses and trains and cabs and such common transport but J. Granville informed her she was being overprotective.

"Let her have a sense of adventure!" He insisted.

Remembering the moment, Simone cried out to the still night air, "Just look where your indulgences in adventure has led us."

Her body guard stepped closer hearing her grief, "Mrs. Sebastian, perhaps I should let Seamus take you to the suite and I could continue the search from here. I promise if I see anything at all, I can have you back with me in less than ten minutes."

Simone shook her head, refusing to look at the man, "My daughter is out here and I'm going to find her."

"Ma'am, you've been on your feet for twelve hours. Please, at least, ride in the car for a few blocks."

Simone brushed him away and continued forward stumbling slightly on the darkened street. She could not stop now. She needed to find Sage. She needed to bring her baby girl home.

* * *

December 1999

The wind howled fiercely off the harbor. Every inch of pavement was lashed with freezing rain. Nobody stood in front of the Harbor Bostonian Hotel waiting for a ride during this brutal Nor'easter. The hotel guests were all sheltered warm and snug in the cavernous lobby while the bell staff hurried to call cabs or clear spaces for the valet drivers.

Sage shivered near the back of the ice covered dumpster along side the "7-2-7" market. Her clothes were wet through to her skin. She couldn't even feel her feet anymore in spite of the oversized winter boots from the Salvation Army. She knew it was far too wet and cold for anybody, regardless of all weather gear, to stay outside more than a few minutes without a warm respite. The only reason she climbed out of her warm, dry crawl space at the back end of the hotel was hunger. She hadn't eaten in the three days since the storm started. Usually, she'd be able to pick up a coffee and a muffin or two from the bench in front of the hotel. Folks rushing for their cabs often left barely bitten pastries and almost full coffees behind in their rush to get where they were going. Sage was fast on her feet and managed to scoop most of the treats before the person even looked back. She'd only been chased by the hotel security four times in seven months. She somehow managed to get away clean each time.

Sage was startled back to the moment with a flash of pink. A familiar face followed the cape flash. Sage had seen this man each morning for the last six weeks. He always had two muffins and an extra large hot chocolate while he waited for his cab. The funny thing was he never even sipped the drink never mind nibbled the muffins. Sage never questioned her luck about the absent minded anorexic. She just swooped in and took the forgotten remains when he climbed into his cab.

And, now, in the heart of a winter's gale he was making his way over to the bench with a larger than usual bag. Sage was up and moving even before a cab could be called. As soon as the man with the pink lined cape stood to go to his car, Sage grabbed his barely forgotten bag and raced off with it.

"Hey, your bag!" The bellman cried against the wind.

Sage doubled her steps on frozen feet to get back to her rabbit hole at the back end of the hotel. She barely heard the voice of the man with he pink lined cape and definitely could not comprehend his words as she rounded the corner of the building.

"No, leave her. I never eat that kind of food anyway."

Chapter 3

December 31, 1999

"Excuse me, Mr. Matthews," the chief of hotel security called after the man with the pink lined cape exiting the coffee shop. "Mr. Matthews, a word please."

The caped man continued to walk to the front door as if he had not heard the request. Forcing the point, the hotel security chief took hold Mr. Matthews' arm. The man turned and fixed a withering glare at the restraining hand.

"Mr. Neal is it?" Mr. Matthews asked with a hint of exasperation.

"Just Neal," the pale red headed officious man answered.

Mr. Matthews gave a thin smile under his waxed and curled moustache, "Well, just Neal, I think you overstep your place. Take your hands off me this instant."

"Look, I don't mean to offend you but…"

"Then don't."

Mr. Matthews started on his way again. Neal did a double take before he hurried to get in front of the departing man. He effectively blocked the exit with his broad but short stature.

"Wait a minute, pal. You and I need to have a conversation," Neal had regained some of his cockiness when he easily overtook the older man's steps. "Now, we can have this conversation in my office or out here in the lobby. Your choice."

"If we must then here is as good of a place as any, I should think," Mr. Matthews said as he shifted the large wax pastry bag from one hand to the other.

Neal wiped his face to hide his surprise at the answer. Most of the hotel's guests were sheepish when he confronted them. They knew the moment he introduced himself what criminal activity had caught up with them. Whether it was an expired credit card or pot seeds on their room's rug, the elite clients of Harbor Bostonian Hotel were eager to take their business with him behind the closed door of the security office.

"Well, speak up! What is your problem?" Mr. Matthews was growing impatient and louder.

"Really, we should take this to the office," Neal lowered his voice as he jutted his chin toward the room across the lobby.

Mr. Matthews side stepped the man and preceded out the front doors, "I've no time for games, Neal. I'm late as it is."

The security chief was momentarily stunned by the abrupt dismissal. This encounter had not gone as he'd planned. His cheeks grew red as he realized many sets of eyes were trained on him. He was certain he was losing his authority with each second he stood there; impotent to act. Rage flashed full force in his chest and he lashed out.

"CALL 911!" He shouted before racing after Mr. Matthews.

The wind whipped along Atlantic Avenue. Gusts blowing off the harbor howling between the canyons of concrete chilled even hearty souls to the bone. Mr. Matthews did not wrap his cape around him. He let the wind rip at; flashing glimpses of pink under the drape of black.

"MR. MATTHEWS!" Neal shouted against the fierce blast of cold. "STOP RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!"

Mr. Matthews looked over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed. A subtle shake of his head indicated his disapproval.

"Stay out of this, Neal. If you know what's good for you, you'll go back inside and hope Mr. Sebastian is in a very good mood," Mr. Matthews turned back to the bench and placed the bag in the usual spot.

"Look, you're gonna stop encouraging that punk kid from hanging around here," Neal stepped up and grabbed Mr. Matthews by the lapels of his silk suit jacket. "Her days of trespassing here have come to an end. One way or another, her freeloading stops today."

Sirens sounded in the distance. Mr. Matthews shoved Neal away from him.

"What have you done?"

"Watch out!" Neal shouted.

Ignoring the question, he pushed Mr. Matthews out of his way. Neal raced down the alley along side of the mammoth hotel. The lanky teen, who snatched the pastry bag while the men were arguing, was no more than ten feet ahead of him. He grinned in spite of his gasping breath. This was one punk who was finally going to get what she deserved. He smacked his lips in anticipation

"NO! LEAVE HER BE! THE FOOD BELONGS TO HER! LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU IDIOT!" Mr. Matthews' call was no more than a whisper beneath the ferocious winter's gale.

* * *

Sage made a mad dash when the guy with the cape put the bag down. She was starving. It had been days and days with no food and only tap water to drink. Hotel security had been beefed up and she hadn't been willing to risk getting caught over a donut. She had hoped to wait things out. But, today she was at her breaking point. Her belly gnawed at her for food. She hadn't really decided to chance a grab with the hotel detective standing right there. But, his argument with her sharp dressed benefactor seemed to be distracting enough for her to chance it. Once the pasty white faced man saw her inches from the bench, she knew it was too late to stop.

Sage was nearing the end of the alley. Straight ahead were the frigid waters of Boston Harbor but to the right, behind a high rise office building, was a chain link fence. The razor wire coiled around the top had a two foot wide breach. It would be just enough for her to get through and make a clean escape.

"Almost." Her breath turned to steam with the muttered word.

She was almost there. And, she would have made it over the top and to freedom with her tasty stolen pastries. But, two colossal security guards barreled out from behind the neighboring building.

Sage tried to back peddle but the ground was slippery. She lost her balance and the bag of food went flying.

"Crap," she hissed.

Scrambling to change directions, she used her hand to balance and push herself back from the fall. The sirens were growing louder which only served to fuel her panic. Sage slid and dipped before negotiating a hard turn to her left. She only managed to run face first into a meaty fist.

She hit the icy ground with a thud. Her vision blurred with stars. She could feel liquid warmth run from her nose to her lips then chill as it spread across her cheek.

Sage stopped thinking. She was functioning on adrenalin now. Her only goal was to keep moving. Flipping onto her hands and knees, she tried to regain her footing and scuttle backward the way she came.

"Oh no you don't," Neal panted with glee.

Sage lifted her eyes in time to see the security chief's black boot coming straight for her face before the bone rattling kick knocked her back over and into unconsciousness.

* * *

The cop held Sage by the elbow. His grip was tight as he walked her to the empty desk inside the office marked CAPTAIN. He guided her to a metal chair and covertly shoved her into the seat. The cop stepped behind her and they both waited in silence.

"Oh God, who brewed this? It tastes like motor oil! Denton, if you go out for coffee at Dunky's get me a large," the heavy set woman entering the room said to the cop standing behind Sage. "Black, no sugar.

"No problem, Ines. Want the door open or shut?"

"Leave it open. I could use a little air?" She winked at the man as she settled into her chair.

Sage shifted nervously in her seat. She wondered if Captain Ines was making fun of her because she smelled so bad. Outside Sage hadn't noticed how truly foul she smelled. Now that she was in a confined space the full force of the odor hit her like a twelve foot wave.

"Okay kiddo, play time's done. You need to tell me who you are, how old you are, and who we should call to come bail you sorry ass out of here," Ines said. "Go ahead. Start answering. Go in whatever order you like. I'm pretty clever. Pretty sure I can keep up with you."

The police captain poised a pen over a blank sheet in the manila folder on the desk. Sage stayed silent. She kept her eyes on the floor. She tried to stay rigidly straight to hold herself away from the back of the chair and keep pressure off her arms handcuffed behind her. She had a feeling this interview was going to take a long time. She had no intention of cooperating. She was never going to tell them who she was.

"Hey, kiddo, I'm up here. You who, look at me," Ines snapped her fingers as she spoke.

Sage glanced up for an instant then refocuses on the floor tiles below her dirty boots.

"Ouch, those are a couple of nasty bruises you got there. The report said you refused medical attention before you clammed up on us." Ines snorted a laugh as she read the medical waiver form. "They shouldn't have honored your request. You signed it with an X. That's not legal. Sheesh, you sure are racking up violations today, young lady."

Silence lingered between them. The captain sat back in her chair. Her gaze never shifted from Sage.

"Captain, you said black, no sugar, right?" A male voice called from the door.

Ines shook her head. "Never mind. I'll get it myself. This is going nowhere fast. Take her back out to the booking bench. Maybe a night chained to the furniture will get her thinking she should cooperate."

"You bet. Come on, kid, let's get you hooked up," the cop took Sage by the elbow again and tugged her out of her chair.

"Kid, as soon as you talk to us we can get you booked and someplace warm and dry," Ines paused and smiled before finishing her thought, "and clean for the night."

Sage stood silently with her eyes down.

"Okay then, have it your way," Ines sighed and motioned for the cop to take the nameless prisoner away.

TBC

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