Love Lost and Found

Chapter 28/?

He was still livid with anger as he almost ran out of the police station. Daniel was just too blind to see the evidence that had been found the right way. //Well,// MacLachlan thought hatefully //it’s not my problem. And I won’t allow him to make it mine.// He had tried often enough to make Goodie see the faults in his way of acting and thinking; he would not do so again. He could bring the whole thing to an end all by himself. Goodie would have to do without him from now on. He would do things his own way. And yet he could not believe that Goodie could indeed be blind enough not to see Mortensen as a possible suspect. He loudly slammed the door of his sleek, black Mercedes shut and turned the motor on. The whole thing had to be solved and he knew just how to do that. Goodie would get his murderer. //I’ll let Goodie try to do things his own way... he’ll fail anyway...//

He stared angrily at the chained figure on the floor, his thoughts still racing. With a heavy sigh he lifted the camera and made some more photos, still unsure what to do. He knew that he should wait for his partner, who was already on his way here, but the longer he gazed at Bret, the more he longed to keep him. And he also knew that David, his partner, had other plans for the young Kiwi. //David...// he thought angrily //How stupid does he think I am? I bloody fucking know that it isn’t his real name!// He had asked around but he had never been able to find out his partner’s real name. Those who had admitted to knowing “David” had refused to talk about him. Who ever David really was, he surely had a damn lot of influence. And he was still hoping to get Orlando. A sly smile crossed his lips as his eyes, which were just as green as his partner’s, lit up with an idea. Maybe he could talk David into keeping Bret. At least into keeping him alive for a little longer, even when they had Orlando. He would surely love to have the beautiful young Kiwi all to himself. And David would be more than just a little distracted once he got Orlando.

At the gate he turned and looked back for a last time. He knew that it might be the last time he ever looked on this house again but he did not really care. He had made up his mind and he would go through with his decision. A gloomy half-moon hung ominously in the eastern sky, flanked by a series of cold stars. A smile appeared briefly on his lips. It was a perfect night to say good-bye. Nevertheless he would have liked to say good-bye in person but that had not been possible. They would never have let him go.
Sighing he turned, drawing his marine anorak tighter around his shoulders, and left the place that had become his home in the last few weeks. His steps were almost soundless in the moonlit night, causing only a hollow echo on the concrete, as he sent a thought of thanks to Sarah, a friend from boarding school who had taught him to fake hyperventilating perfectly. He loathed seeing Viggo so worried but the older man would not have let him sleep alone of he had not convinced him that he needed his rest.

Somewhere across town David, as he liked to be called because it was his second surname, sped through the city at an almost suicidal speed. He was more than just angry. His partner, the only one of his minions whom he had thought reliable, had just proven to be a complication after all. Somehow it seemed that he would have to finish his scheme without help unless he got himself someone new. Or reactivated someone old. He smiled grimly. He knew just where to look. Of course she had said that she wanted out but he had left her alone for far too long already. She was the only one who was truly in his hands. The only one whom he could manipulate completely. And that was exactly what he needed right now.

He straightened his shoulders once more, willing his nervosity to fade. Now that he was here he could not really believe what he was going to do. but he had no other option. He agitatedly combed his curls back from his face and then went into the police station, heading straight for the officer on the front desk. He could not let Bret to suffer and maybe even die for him. No matter what Viggo, John and Torsten thought, he just could not. He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened to Bret.
The officer’s blue eyes shot up to meet his with a surprised gleam. “What can I do for you, Mr...” the middle-aged man trailed of, raising one of the eyebrows in his tubby face questioningly. “Bloom.” Orlando said. “Orlando Bloom. I’d like to speak to Officer Daniel Goodie, please.” “At this time of the night?”
“Yes.” Orlando said firmly. “It is very urgent.” “Okay.” the officer nodded, shuffling a few papers around. “Officer Goodie is not here at the moment but he should return within the next 15 or 20 minutes. Would you mind waiting in his office? I’ll inform him that you are here as soon as he comes in.” “Yes, thanks.” Orlando smiled. This was going even better than he had hoped. Some time alone in Goodie’s office was exactly what he had been hoping for. The officer nodded. “Good. If you’d follow me please.” The smile remained fixed to Orlando’s face as he followed the officer deeper into the station, almost hoping that his plan would work out well. At least for everyone else.

Bret sighed and turned around, abruptly freezing in his movement as he noticed that he could indeed turn around, that there were no chains holding him back. He was sore and his whole body seemed to be one bog, discoloured bruise. His head was still throbbing and hurting but the dizziness was gone and he was able to think clearly again. “Are you in much pain?” a concerned voice suddenly invaded his thoughts. “Sean?” he croaked, groaning in pain as he came to meet concerned green eyes. “Who are you?” he whispered, staring uncomprehendingly at the man in front of him. The stranger was almost a head taller than him, green-eyed and had a mop of shoulder-length midnight-blue black hair.
“I am Michael.” the stranger said simply. “You must be thirsty. Do you want a glass of water?” Bret nodded weakly, noticing only now how dry his throat was. He eyed Michael wearily as the man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, got up from the shabby couch he had been sitting on and crossed the room.
Bret craned his head but the man was out of view. Maybe he had even left the room. He tried to push himself up on his elbows but failed miserably as another wave of hot pain cursed through his body. “No, please stay where you are.” He frowned, cold sweat on his brow, as Michael suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Here is your water.”
Michael sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Bret and gently lifted the actor’s head, gently cradling it in his hand, as he placed the glass of water against Bret’s lips. The actor clenched his lips shut, afraid to be drugged once more. “Don’t worry,” Michael whispered, “it’s just water, nothing more. I saved you from him. I’m here to take care of you.” Bret blinked, his eyelids fluttering nervously as he tried to assess his saviour. Finally he gave in, sinking back into the arms holding him and taking long sips from the proffered liquid, thankful to have been spared from the pain his dreams had made him live through again and again this time.

Tbc...