Snippet #2378360

"Take a seat, guys. I got some bad news."

Icy dread creeped into Barton's chest as he slowly sat down. He couldn't...Simon couldn't have...

“Agent Temple is dead, car bomb. Deputy Montgomery is missing, we’re working on the presumption she’s been kidnapped. Temple’s family was murdered and we believe they were used to control the agent.”

"Jesus," Barton exclaimed quietly, before continuing to listen to the recap and the instructions for the day. The funeral, naturally, was a good place to start. Considering the arson the previous day, someone might have a vendetta against the Bishop Family, and at the worst, they might be drawn into the open. At best, nothing would happen and the investigation would continue as it was...hopefully with fewer late-night manhunts, and no more sudden losses. He nodded slowly, and stood to leave.

"Tom, I need a quick word. Alone."

Barton looked back in surprise, then sat as Adams left. He then listened as Blake outlined his concern. He quirked his lips pensively, not sure whether Blake was being paranoid or if he had a legitimate cause for concern. If Adams had wanted to off him, couldn't he have done it up by the mine, or in the mine? Still, he nodded. Better to watch for the attack that never came than to miss the attack that came.

A moment later, his trust in the Bureau's judgement wavered and fell. Hostage rescue? "Oh for Chr-" Barton trailed off as Blake explained Reynard's rationale behind the decision. He nodded slowly, grudgingly, then spoke in response. "As long as they don't jump the gun, I can deal with it. I'll get going to the funeral." With that, he rose slowly and went to the door. As he reached it, something occurred to him, and he turned. "Oh, one more thing David. Did they do an autopsy on Sheriff Carter? He wasn't in that critical condition when I saw him last, and that was before surgery."

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Less than an hour later, Barton and Adams stood at the funeral. The entire service passed without event up until the burial. Barton stood impassive as final words were said over the casket, and watched as they slowly lowered it into the ground. He glanced over at Cassandra Bishop, who seemed oddly...calm, particularly for a woman who had to see her own child buried. He had spoken to her earlier, and she had seemed equally calm, even passive. Odd. Barton had filed it away for reference.

He glanced over at Deputy Adams. He seemed fidgety, glancing over at something beyond Barton's sight. Unwilling to to admit Blake might be right, he trusted Adams's judgement on whatever it was. A moment later, however, the ball came back to him as Adams crossed the crowd to him. "Tom, you need to see this. There's a man up on the hill, flashing a light at m-urgh!" Adams flinched, his hand going to his stomach. "Sorry, just a cramp. Little short of breath. Probably a remnant of last n-aagh!" He failed to reassure Barton, who quickly supported him with his shoulder and helped him back to his car. He could feel Adams growing weaker by the second. This was bad. Very bad.

He borderline sped through the empty streets to Decker Hospital, stopping quickly outside the emergency room entrance. He helped Adams out, and almost dragged him to the door. Nurses immediately whisked Adams away and began questioning Barton. He answered them quickly, and they left him after a brief explanation, to attend to Adams. Barton blinked, processing the new information, then remembered Adams's last words before he collapsed. A man on the nearby hill.

He sprinted out and into his car, dialing the Sheriff's office on the car phone as he left, steering with his left hand as he held the receiver in his right.

"Cartwright Falls Sheriff's Off-"

"This is Barton, I need to talk to Agent Blake."

"Agent Blake has gone to sleep. I can take a message for when he wakes up."

"Sure, sure. Tell him Adams just had what the doctors think is a heart attack, at the funeral, but I got him to the hospital, and they said he's going to be all right. Again, he's going to be okay. Listen, this part's important: Before he collapsed, Adams mentioned something about a man on the hill, with a light, nearby the funeral. I'm going back there to check right now. I'll report back from here when I get more info. Got that?" After a brief confirmation, Barton hung up without saying any more, and focussed on getting back to the funeral.

He arrived in record time, the funeral party now only partly dispersed. He exited the car quickly, not drawing his pistol but squeezing it briefly and slightly with his arm, just to make sure it was there. He skimmed the area, looking for a hill. Finding only one hill, in the direction he remembered facing away from, Barton immediately accelerated into a jog and reached the hill. He looked around slowly, and found some trace of disturbance. Someone had been here. Recently.

He crested the hill and looked out into the trees beyond, but saw nothing. "Dammit," he muttered.