Under ordinary circumstances, Abby might have brushed it off. This was Will, after all. Not the most reliable guy in the world. But there was the matter of the package. The one he had given her one week and one day earlier. The one she had promised not to open unless he was dead. By her book, 'inexplicably missing' was close enough. In her experiance, second hand though most of it was, there is generally a link between people suspected of wanting a person dead and that person's disappearance. Abby was ready to bet her year's salary that the people mentioned in that package were the ones responsible for Will's absense.

If reading the thing prematurely would save his life, Abby didn't think he'd mind her jumping the gun a little. That he might already be dead was a possibility she didn't want to consider. With a deep breath of trepidation, she dug the package out of the back of her filing cabinet. Out of sight, out of mind. The theory was flawed. A day hadn't gone by since he gave it to her, that she hadn't fought down the curiousity urging her to open it. She set it down on her desk, fear quieting her reporter's anticipation for the first time.

She reached for the flap, then stopped. Promise me you won't open it. Will's voice, scared but determined. Promise me I won't have to. she had returned, not really believing Will wasn't blowing things entirely out of proportion. But he hadn't answered. That should have clued her in, if the package's existance hadn't. She stood and closed her office door. Locked it. Whatever was in that package, Will had disappeared because of it. She wasn't going to take any chances.

She sat at her desk again, and eased open the flap, tearing it only a little. She held her breath as she pulled out the enclosed papers. Research notes, most of it. Transcripts with that prisoner, McNeil. A memo from the city highway department stating that all the traffic cameras at intersections within a mile of Danny's address were disabled at the time of the murder. A note from the airport about unclaimed tickets under the names Danny Hecht and Kate Jones. Some follow-up on Kate Jones, that detailed she was dead, that a girl name Eloise Kurtz pretended to be her and claimed to have had an affair with Danny. A short scribble on a Post-It that Eloise was dead. A longer page in Will's handwritting about a flower broach he had found in her car. A handwritten and signed statement that Will Tippin had been kidnapped, threatened off the story, and abandoned. That the kidnapper claimed responsibility for the deaths of Eloise Kurtz, Danny Hecht, and McNeil's wife. That he threatened the safety of Tippin's family and his friend, Sydney Bristow. That the kidnapper knew the addresses of each person threatened. And, finally, that the kidnapper was positively identified as Jack Bristow, said friend's father.

The last page in the package was an article, summarizing what Will had learned about SD-6. That they had killed and would kill again. What McNeil knew of them, why his wife was murdered, and how he had wrongly ended up in prison.

In all of it, there were only two names associated with the organization: Allain Christophe and Jack Bristow. Will had talked to Bristow, and disappeared two days later. Abby culled the signed statement from the rest, returned the majority to its envelope andd the envelope to its place in the filing cabinet. The statement about his kidnapping, Abby folded neatly, and tucked into her purse.

She unlocked her door and stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the newsroom.She paused a moment to adjust to the abrupt change, then called into the choas, "Eddie!" Almost by magic, her assistant materialized at her side. "Eddie, if I'm not back in two days, call the police and publish the article in the back of my locked filing drawer." She gave him the key. "It's in a manila envelope, written by Will. You'll know it when you see it."

He nodded. "Got it. Expecting trouble? Need back-up?"

"Maybe to the first, no to the second. I need you here to make sure that article gets published if something does happen."

He didn't look willing to stand down. Abby offered him a glare, and he grudingly bobbed his head. "Very well. But I'll come looking for you in 48 hours and one minute if you're not back here by then."

"Deal. I'll even keep you updated." He grinned, looking even younger than his nineteen years. She almost wanted to take back the promise, but it made them both feel better. Will's disappearance had left the whole office mildly edgy, even though only she and Jenny had any idea that he was working on something dangerous.

"Great. See ya in 48 hours."

"See ya then," she returned, the flippancy feeling false enough to be painful. Her first stop was the police station. As a reporter, it felt odd going there to give information rather than get it. She approached the reception desk.

"Help you?" the man there asked, neither recognizing her nor getting particularly excited by her arrival.

"Two things. I'd like to report a kidnapping, and file a missing persons report."

He appeared no less bored, though he did pull a sheet of blue paper from a slot holding more of the same. "Is the missing person male or female?"

"Male. William Tippin, 25 years old, blond, about 5'7" or so. He was kidnapped last week."

"We don't know that."

His boredom was getting on her nerves. She pulled out Will's statement and laid it down in front of him. "Read this, and you will. He disappeared again three days ago."

The man gave her a look that she interpreted as 'you want me to do what?', then started to read. She could almost watch the boredom flee as his eyebrows inched upward. "Tippin is a reporter?" he asked, more for clarification than because he doubted it.

"Yeah. He was investigating the deaths of Eloise Kurtz and Danny Hecht. He left that with me when he went to talk with Bristow again."

He lowered the page and looked at her with incredulity. "Some guy kidnaps you, threatens your family if you don't drop a story, then you go to interview him? And now you wonder why you disappear?"

"I don't wonder why. I know why, probably better than you do." She just couldn't remember why she had let the idiot go ahead with his plan.

"Your name, and what relation do you have with Tippin?"

"Abigail Conner. Co-worker. We write for the same newspaper. He gave me an article to publish if he turns up dead."

He shook his head and muttered something that sounded like 'reporters' under his breath. Then jotted down something more on the blue sheet, before he picked up his phone and poked in a four digit sequence. "Sir, we got a reporter down here, says one of her collegues is missing during a murder investigation and after being warned off the story. . . . Yeah. Jack Bristow. The guy already kidnapped the reporter once. Looks like a gang or or some other sort of organized crime. . . . Because if this Bristow guy was working by himself, the story would have been published already." Abby raised her brows in surprise. The cop was brighter than she'd taken him for. "Okay, good day, sir." He hung up.

"Go down the hall, third door on your right. Detective Robbins will speak with you." He pointed toward the appropriate hall, and she moved that way, until she reached Robbins' door. "Come in!" he called before she could even knock. She turned the knob and entered the office.

Robbins sat behind a neatly arranged desk, his dark hand tapped a pencil lightly against a blank notebook page. "Hello, take a seat, please," he invited. As she did so, he wrote "Will Tippin" across the top of the page. Under that he neatly printed, "disappearance reported by Abigail Conner." He must have been breifed during the seconds it took her to walk between the reception desk and here. "Ms. Conner -"

"Abby, please."

"Abby, could you tell me when you last saw Mr. Tippin."

She nodded. "Three days ago. He was about to meet with Mr. Bristow again."

"How many times had he met with Mr. Bristow prior to that time?"

"Counting the kidnapping, and not counting the times he saw him because of Sydney, three."

He raised a brow. "Sydney?"

"Sydney Bristow is Jack Bristow's daughter and one of Will's best friends. She was also engaged to Danny Hecht before he was killed."

The detective nodded slowly. "Danny's was the murder Will was investigating, yes?"

"Right."

"What transpired on the two previous occassions after the kidnapping that Mr. Tippin met with Mr. Bristow?"

Abby shook her head. "Will wouldn't say. He looked kind of nervous and freaked out whenever I brought up Jack Bristow's name. I don't think he ever stopped thinking of him as 'Sydney's weird dad'."

"Weird?"

"The kidnapping wasn't the first time Will mentioned Jack Bristow to me. He talks about his friends and some of their issues occassionally. Sydney and her dad almost never talked until recently."

"Recently when?"

"The best I can figure, since I have only Will's gossip to go on, is that Sydney started making overtures shortly after Danny's death. At first he didn't return the calls and apparently stood her up for dinner once - on Christmas, no less. But shortly after Will's kidnapping, he said he saw Jack Bristow when he and Sydney went to dinner at her boss's house. They appeared to be doing much better."

"Mr. Bristow had dinner with the man he kidnapped, after he kidnapped him? What did Will have to say about it?"

"Will didn't know that Mr. Bristow was the kidnapper yet. It was only the next day."

The detective looked surprised. "The identification wasn't made at the time of the kidnapping?"

"No. Will's source told him it was Bristow. Will didn't believe it at first. I mean, if you got kidnapped by a masked man with a voice filter, would you suspect it was your crush's estranged father? Especially when Sydney was one of the four people who's life was threatened?"

"So there was only an anonymous source's word that the kidnapper was this Bristow." He looked dismayed.

"Once the idea was introduced, Will started to think it could have been him, so he confronted Bristow. Bristow did not deny his part in the kidnapping, and Will was convinced at this point that it was him. Over the next four days, Bristow contacted him three times, asking for meetings. After the last, Will did not return."

"Wait, Bristow contacted the reporter for meetings?"

Abby nodded. "So said Will. I thought maybe the guy was turning canary at first, but Will kept getting more and more agitated. Before the last meeting, his eyes looked like prisoner's going to headman's block. But that might just be my imagination messing with my memory. But he was scared, and I'd bet my month's salary that it was Jack he was scared of. He wouldn't say what they spoke of, and when I asked where they were going to meet, he looked like he expected to get shot right there in the coffee room."

Abruptly, the detective stood. "Come." She stood and followed him from the office. He marched over to the reception desk. "I want Jack Bristow brought in. What's his address?"

The man typed something into a computer, and read the street address.

"I'll meet the team there." Then he flashed a surprisingly boyish grin at Abby. "Coming?"

She blinked in surprise, then, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."