Wesley heard the cops, he just didn't care. He continued choking Patty. "I don't give a damn about anyone. Except Blair. I'll beat you to a pulp if you keep pushing me. Start talking," he warned her.
He released her, giving her a shove. She tipped back in her chair and slid against the wall. She groaned and slumped down.
"I won't kill you today, because you're not worth it. I just don't have the time." He had to go check on Blair. Every second counted.
Patty was left gasping. She had her hand to her throat as she defiantly glared at Wesley, who was headed for the door. "If you leave, the police won't hear a word from me!" she threatened.
Wesley turned around. "Think I care? I have ways to make you talk. The only reason I stayed this long was to soften the blow, because it seemed like you really cared for me. Now you ticked me off. You hurt Blair, you'll know what hell tastes like."
Wesley left.
And Patty was dragged away by some of his soldiers. When she saw the men in green uniform, she realized Wesley meant what he said. She struggled hysterically, refusing to go with them.
But it was not up to her.
They took her away, and everybody knew where they were taking her.
It was said that at the army base there was an interrogation room designed for those too stubborn to talk. The methods used in that room would crack the toughest men, let alone a woman like Patty.
Once Wesley got in his car, he started calling Blair anxiously and repeatedly. Her phone was on, but she wouldn't pick up.
He located her phone via GPS. It showed that it was in her dorm. She was probably there too.
So Wesley raced to her dorm. He found her phone but not the girl.
"Not here? She say anything to you?" he asked her roommate.
The woman shook her head. "I don't know. I was video chatting with my family. I didn't hear a thing."
Wesley left with Blair's phone in hand.
He went to the apartment security guard and asked for the camera footage. It showed that Blair left her apartment and walked towards the gate to the complex. Like she was leaving.
She stood at the entrance for a while and then turned right.
After that, she was out of camera range.
It took a phone call to the right people, but Wesley managed to get the footage from the street-level surveillance cameras. Apartment security had no control over those. But from those, he was able to follow Blair's trail.
An hour later, he was at the beach.
He jumped out of his car, looked around, but saw no one.
He was so worried and anxious he was sweating. 'Dammit Blair. Don't do anything stupid!' he thought.
It was practically 1 a.m. when he found her.
She was sitting on a stone in her thin purple pajamas, looking quietly at the ocean. The rolling waves were in the embrace of the dark night, and her hair blew in the wind.
A wave rushed in and lapped the stone leaving behind foam as it receded. Water splashed on her pajamas; but she remained motionless, as if she had lost her ability to feel anything.
Wesley let out a long sigh of relief when he saw her. He leapt onto the stone, took off his jacket, and draped it around her shoulders.
She was frozen, shivering. He took her into his arms, kissed her forehead and said, "I'm so sorry." He shouldn't have gone to see Patty.
Then none of this would have happened.
After a long while, Blair snuggled closer to him and said with a smile, "Wesley, I knew you'd find me."
Wesley held her tighter and said, "Let's go home."
"Okay." She said nothing else and asked no questions. Nor did she throw a tantrum. She stayed in his arms and let him lead her away.
Wesley put her in the passenger seat and turned on the heat.
Actually, it was already early summer. Pretty hot. But Blair's body was ice cold—like a corpse.
So, even though he was sweating, he turned on the defroster so she wouldn't get sick.
Then he adjusted the seat until she was comfortable, and buckled her up.
He started the engine and drove to the Eastern Coastal Apartments.
By the time they hit the parking lot, Blair wanted to get out of the car by herself, but Wesley insisted on carrying her out.
Blair didn't turn him down. He carried her into his bedroom, put her on the bed, and tucked her in.
She let him and put up no fight, shockingly. Lying in his bed, she closed her eyes and went right to sleep.
Wesley was relieved.
After closing the door quietly, he walked into the kitchen.
The fridge was jam packed with food.
He had thought Blair would move back in, so he bought all this food. But it didn't happen. Now he had no idea what to do with all these supplies.
He called Cecelia. "Mom, can you ask Freda how to make cold-dispelling soup?"
Wesley almost never got sick, so he didn't know much about treating even the common cold. Blair wasn't strong enough, and she had stayed too long on the beach tonight. If she didn't get warm soon, she would get sick.
"What?" Too late. Cecelia was really sleepy. She didn't hear him clearly.
"Can you get Freda up?"
"Why?" asked Cecelia, eyes still closed.
"I need to ask her something."
"Oh," Cecelia responded, and then it was quiet.
Wesley knew she must have fallen asleep. He hung up resignedly and called Baldwin.
Baldwin was already awake. He'd been jarred from his sleep by Cecelia's ringtone. So, when Wesley called him, he answered it very quickly. "Hi, Son, what's up?"
"Dad, I need to speak to Freda."
"Why? It's the middle of the night." Baldwin sat up on the bed. He turned on the lamp, put on his glasses and walked towards the door.
"I need a recipe," Wesley replied.
"Why so late? Did you just come back from a mission?" asked Baldwin.
"No, I'm on leave."
"On leave?" Baldwin frowned. He hadn't known that before. "Then are you coming out to visit?"
Wesley was silent.
He was still dealing with Blair. He wanted to wait. "Maybe later. I've got stuff to deal with first. How is Grandpa?"
"He is fine. He just wants a great-grandson."
Wesley didn't reply to that. He wanted a son too.
That was why he wanted to wait before he went to visit his family. He wanted to have a baby first. He was hoping that when he visited his family next time, it would be him, Blair, and their child.
Baldwin went to the first floor as he complained, "You want me to disturb Freda in the middle of the night just for a recipe? Can't you just find it online?"
"I did, and I read it. But it didn't look right." Even the colors in the picture were off. He was dubious as to whether it was authentic.
