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Summary: Faith doesn’t join the Mayor.
AN: Thoughts are between slashes (//Thought.//)
Gerard was getting very frustrated.
Spending 24 hours of valuable hunting time being poked and prodded did not put him in a good mood. Not that his mood was all that good to begin with. Losing a prisoner was not conducive to making him bright and cheerful. Of course Cosmo would probably observe that Gerard was never bright and cheerful to begin with. Never-the-less, his mood was definitely on the foul side of dour.
He’d had misgivings when Catherine assigned him to this ‘milk run’ with Marshall Cisco. At the time he’d felt she was perfectly capable of handling the transfer on her own and he was sure that he’d been assigned solely because Catherine was still babying him from the injuries he’d received during the Warren debacle.
There had been no leads from the scene of the escape other than to show that there had indeed been some kind of accident with the motorcycle. Because neither he nor Marshall Sisco could remember anything, there was no way to determine what part the accident played in the escape, if any at all.
The number of people involved in the escape could not be determined either from anything at the scene. While they knew the minimum was one, they could only guess how many more might have been involved based on the ease at which it appeared he and Sisco had been incapacitated without any obvious struggle.
Then there was the drug that apparently rendered them unconscious and affected their memory. The lab tests run by the hospital could find no trace of any unusual substances in their blood. This meant that more blood samples had to be drawn to send off to various other labs to do even more comprehensive tests.
The preliminary report from Renfro about interviewing Summers’ family and friends only managed to provide a possible accomplice in that his team had not been able to find Alexander Lavelle Harris, AKA Xander. All the others had solid alibis for the time of the escape.
The thing was, according to what Marshall Sisco was able to glean about the boy, he would not have the expertise to do what was done on his own let alone plan out such an elaborate operation. The unknown drug would most definitely be beyond his capabilities to make or obtain on his own. So, while Harris could have been involved, they would have to look elsewhere for the mastermind. And that would mean finding out why Summers was important enough to someone to go to such lengths to help her escape from Federal custody.
His first thought being that she was involved with some militant militia group and they got to her so she couldn’t be talked into a deal by the Federal Prosecutor. However, after reading the transcript of Summers’ trial, it seem to imply that the rocket launcher she was supposed to have stolen was used in a gang dispute that took place at the local mall. If either case were true then Summers would have to be someone of importance for them to have rescued her instead of just silencing her.
Not that he thought any cohorts she had would be afraid of her talking, since she hadn’t implicated anyone during her trial for murder, a situation where making a deal would have definitely been to her advantage. While her lawyers had proclaimed her innocence, they never pointed a finger at anyone else as being responsible for her alleged crimes either.
Of course Marshall Sisco’s preliminary look at potential accomplices for Summers’ escape found no solid connections to either militias or gangs. In fact, there didn’t even appear to be any traces of any such connection other than reports they found by Principal Snyder that had no substantiating facts in them at all.
Summers’ own identified circle of friends, totaling only 4 or 5, really didn’t constitute the definition of a gang even for a town the size of Sunnydale. The high school chess club had more members. And, from a picture in the high school paper, a couple of them actually looked more gang-like than the subdued, petite blonde he vaguely remembered picking up from the Sunnydale jail.
Things weren’t adding up and he didn’t like the fact that the names Kimble and Warren kept cropping up whenever he thought of Summers. He really didn’t another case like those two.
Karen was not in a good mood.
Losing a prisoner.
Being left naked and unconscious while handcuffed to an equally naked and unconscious Marshall Gerard.
//Ugh,// she thought as she shivered to the mental image of what she’d seen upon first awakening in the car.
Not that it was a horrible sight, just not what she needed on her mind right then.
Being stuck in the hospital for 24 hours.
Not having any memory or clues to what happened to her and Gerard.
Not having any clues as to who took Summers or why.
This was almost as humiliating as being trapped in that car trunk with Foley. And a lot less pleasant. She at least remembered what happened then.
She’d already provided Gerard with her preliminary report on their only potential suspect in the escape and that data only seemed to point to how it couldn’t be him. At least not as the planner and probably only as a gofer or warm body if involved at all. After all, the only reason he was a suspect was that Gerard’s crew hadn’t been able to locate the youth. He still might have an alibi like the rest of Summers’ family and friends.
Currently she was reading the transcript of Summers’ trial to see if there might be any clues that would point to her rescuers.
It was hard to believe that the picture drawn by the prosecution in the case was the same resigned looking young woman she remembered picking up at the Sunnydale jail. That girl looked tired and defeated, not the aggressive, cold blooded killer portrayed by the Sunnydale D.A.
She was amazed at how quickly the trial had been after Summers’ arrest. Even in high profile cases, it was often months afterwards before the trial could begin. The defense hadn’t objected though and since both Kuzak and Van Owen had good reputations when it came to having their clients’ best interests at heart, she couldn’t say that it looked like Summers had been railroaded.
However, after reviewing the evidence presented, all of which was circumstantial, she felt it odd that not one juror had a reasonable doubt about Summers’ guilt.
The two police officers that claimed that Summers and another, dark haired girl had escaped their custody after being arrested for breaking and entering a sporting goods store the night before Finch was killed were about the only ones who had anything concrete to say about her being involved in any criminal behavior.
The very grainy, black and white photo that was retrieved from mall security tapes and introduced as part of the prosecution’s attempt to show a trend of past criminal behavior that showed someone holding the stolen rocket launcher could have been her wearing a blonde wig as much as it could have been Summers. Also, the fact that the sentry who’d been on duty the night it was stolen had initially testified that Summers was the girl who accompanied the soldier who had wheedled his way into the warehouse it had been stored in had ended up admitting he wasn’t all that sure during cross examination because he hadn’t really been paying attention to her face. Given the fairly detailed description he did give of the outfit the girl wore, she knew exactly which head he was thinking with at that time.
What she did find puzzling was that Summers suddenly called a conference with her lawyers just as they started to inquire about the sentry’s description of the girl’s blouse barely holding in a ‘pair of bodacious ta-tas’. At the end of the conference, Michael Kuzak withdrew the question. Buffy Summers was not flat-chested but there was no way she could be described as being amply endowed the way the guard implied. Pursuing that line of questioning should have helped her but she apparently shut it down for some reason.
//She’s protecting someone!// she thought. //Maybe even the person, or persons, who sprung her.//