Lois sat on the couch, one knee up, remote in hand. The morning edition of The Daily Planet lay folded on the coffee table in front, Luthor on the Loose screaming at her in 36 point bold font. On the television, a red breaking news banner at the bottom of the screen proclaimed no new leads in the search for disgraced billionaire, Lex Luthor.
Lois flipped from CNN back to LNN, enjoying watching the reporters employed by one of the crown jewels of Luthor’s former empire decry his escape from prison.
“Did you sleep at all?” an amused voice asked from behind her.
She turned and flashed him a brilliant smile, then reached for him. He came immediately, bending to kiss her quickly before straightening and turning his attention to the screen.
“Nothing new?” he asked, and she shook her head. His gaze fell to the newspaper on the table. “When did you get that?”
“I went out to the newspaper box outside my apartment a little bit ago.”
He came around the couch and sat beside her, lifting the paper to examine her article. The sound of her newspaper’s name caught her attention, and she turned to the television, increasing the volume.
“That’s right, John. According to reporting by The Daily Planet, Luthor is wanted not only in connection with the escape, but is also wanted for questioning in the death of an inmate at the Metropolis Women’s Prison and is a suspect in a series of arsons over the last six months in Metropolis. In an article this morning written by Lois Lane, who won a Pulitzer last year for her investigation that led to Luthor’s arrest and conviction, The Daily Planet alleges that Luthor has ties to all of the arson victims and was in fact the mastermind behind a similar series of arsons two years ago. Toni Taylor, the one-time boss of the Metro Gang crime syndicate, was convicted of organizing those arsons and was serving a ten year prison sentence at Metropolis Women’s Prison before she was murdered two weeks ago.”
Lois turned the volume back down and turned to Clark with a smile. “I guarantee you Perry is watching that right now and peacocking around the newsroom. There’s nothing he loves more than when another news outlet has to quote us by name.”
“Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?” he teased, setting the paper back down on the table and reaching out to stroke her hair instead.
“Maybe,” she said with a smile. “But it never hurts to say it again.”
He laughed, and slid his hand to the back of her neck gently pulling her toward him and tilting her face up for a kiss. She sighed happily, returning his kiss leisurely. She brought her hands up to his face, smiling at the intimacy of kissing him first thing in the morning before he had shaved.
On the coffee table, her pager started to beep and buzz, and she groaned her displeasure against his mouth.
“Not now,” she grumbled, making no move to pull away.
He laughed softly, rubbing her back sweetly, and then pulled away. “Check your pager. I’m not going to be to blame if you miss an important message from a source.”
She sighed and reached for the pager, pushing the button to silence it and examining the number. It looked familiar, but it took her a minute to place it. As soon as she realized it was her source inside the prison, she scrambled for her phone, dialing as fast as her fingers would allow.
“This is Scott.”
“Scott! It’s Lois Lane. I just got your-”
“We’ve got him. Well, not got him got him. He’s still on the loose. But we know how he got out,” he said.
“What can you tell me?”
“On the record? Absolutely nothing. You haven’t seen me. You haven’t heard from me. Got it?”
“You know me, Scott,” she said, reassuring him and reminding him of the many times she had shielded him.
“It was a food delivery truck. It didn’t set off any alarms because it was a scheduled delivery and everything went like normal. But on the security cameras, we can see the delivery driver take a large box back out from the kitchen to the truck. Anyone who saw him at the time probably just assumed he was making the delivery. But he shouldn’t have been transporting any boxes from the kitchen to the truck.”
“And you think Luthor was in the box?” Her mind was reeling, trying to think of how he would have arranged this and how to figure out where he went next.
“That’s the working theory. We are looking for additional footage that can prove it.”
“What’s the name of the company?” Lois asked, as a notepad and pencil magically appeared on the end table next to the phone. She looked up and mouthed a quick “thank you” and reached for the pencil.
Scott hesitated. “I’ll tell you, but the cops are all over this angle. If you start nosing around, they are going to know you talked to someone inside.”
Lois wrinkled her nose. If the cops were all over this angle, there was no point in her investigating it. They would be able to compel information far faster than she could. “I won’t do anything,” she said. “And if you don’t tell me, I’ll just go look it up. The prison contracts are all public record.
“Emerson Food Group,” he said, clearly resigned. There was noise in the background and when he spoke again, his voice was rushed and quiet. “I gotta go!”
“Okay,” she said quickly. “Thank you. Page me if you get anything else. I owe you.”
The only answer was the click of the phone and dial tone. She hung up the phone, and turned to look at Clark, who was sitting on the couch watching her.
“They think they know how Luthor got out. There’s footage of a food delivery truck driver wheeling a large box back onto the truck.”
“Do you need to go to work?” he asked, and there was no censure in his voice.
She shook her head. “There’s nothing I can do yet. They need to track down the truck and the driver, and the police are all over it. I just have to wait and hope I get another call when they have a lead on where the truck took him.”
“And in the meantime?” he asked with a smile.
She laughed. “In the meantime,” she said, joining him on the couch and stroking his cheek. “I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”
*****
A part of her would have been perfectly content to spend the day holed up with him at home, but eventually they decided to get showered and dressed and head out to lunch and the museum. Lois packed her pager and cell phone in her purse, and vacillated between hoping there would be a break in the case and hoping that break would hold off for the duration of Clark’s visit so she could focus on him.
The weather was sunny and warm for October, and they opted to walk to the little deli just down the street from her apartment. They stopped on the way to browse through her favorite used book store, and she suddenly remembered Lana’s email about Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. She was mortified that she never responded to the message, but Clark assured her that Lana had probably not even noticed, let alone cared. Still, she decided that they would read the book as a peace offering, and they managed to find two copies and purchase them.
Over lunch they talked about other books they might read together, and his parent-teacher conferences, and which baseball teams would make the World Series. It was mundane and normal and comfortable… and thrilling because it was all those things. It was so easy to imagine him here all the time; to imagine a life where they spent every weekend like this.
They were just finishing lunch, when the now familiar sound of her pager interrupted them. Lois rolled her eyes. This was the third time her pager had sounded since Scott had paged her that morning, and both times she had leaped for it, only to be disappointed when it was Perry, first making sure she saw the broadcast news coverage and then passing along an interview request from LNN that she quickly turned down.
“I’m sorry,” she said again as she fished her pager out of her purse. “I swear this thing doesn’t usually go off all day like this.”
“It’s fine,” Clark said.
“It’s probably just Perry again-“ She stopped abruptly when she saw the number. “It’s not Perry.”
The number looked familiar, but it definitely wasn’t work. She pulled out her cell phone and tapped in the number.
“Henderson!” a gruff voice answered.
Lois’ eyebrows shot up. “Henderson? It’s Lois-”
“Listen, Lane. I’m only calling you. Remember that next time. You owe me.”
Lois ignored his blustering. “What is it?”
“Where,” he corrected. “I assume you know about the food service truck.”
She didn’t deny it or ask any follow up questions, and Henderson sighed heavily. “One of these days, I’m going to find all your little spies. Food service truck left the prison at 9:22 am. We checked the security cameras at Luthor Tower, and nothing. But then we checked the footage from the ATM across from a service entrance, and there it was. 9:51 am. We’re waiting on a search warrant right now.”
Lois felt an electric charge go through her body. She whipped her head up to look at Clark, who was waiting patiently, and mouthed, “We have to go.”
He nodded, and began looking around for their waitress.
“I’m on my way,” she said to Henderson.
“You owe me,” he repeated, before hanging up.
Lois turned off the phone and stuck it in her bag. When she looked up, Clark was accepting the bill from the waitress and reaching for his wallet. She started to pull out her wallet, but he waved her off. He handed the waitress back the bill along with some cash, thanked her, and told her to keep the change.
“What did Henderson say?” he asked, turning his attention back to Lois as he stood.
“They’ve got the truck on security cameras entering Luthor Tower a half hour after it left the prison complex.”
“Any signs of him?” Clark asked.
She shook her head. “He didn’t say, so I’m assuming no. They’re waiting on the search warrant.”
They were almost back to the Jeep now, which was parked on the street near her apartment, and suddenly she remembered that they were supposed to be on their way to the Air and Space museum. That they’d had a whole day of fun activities planned. That she had been looking forward to holding his hand under the stars, even if they were only computer-generated.
She stopped in front of her Jeep, unsure what to say. She had already apologized so many times today for so many interruptions.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, threading his fingers through hers. “Are you scared?”
She shook her head. It hadn’t even occurred to her to be scared of Luthor. “I’m just…” She sighed and looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
His brow furrowed. “Sorry?”
“Whatever happens, this is going to take hours. And then I’m going to have to write the article. We’re not going to make it to the museum. I really wanted-”
“Hey,” he said, interrupting her apology. He shook his head and cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I didn’t come here for a vacation. I didn’t come here for museums or fancy restaurants. I came here to be with you. Because I want to be a part of your life. This is your life. I want to be a part of this.”
Her heart ached with the love she felt for him in that moment. She couldn’t form words through the lump in her throat, so she just nodded.
“No more apologies,” he said softly, holding her gaze until she nodded in agreement.
He kissed her gently, and she wanted desperately for Luthor to be back in prison where he belonged so she could forget he existed and focus all her energy on this sweet man who made her heart race.
They were only a few blocks from Luthor Tower, so they made it there in a matter of minutes. She parked the Jeep in a visitor spot and reached for her press credentials hanging from her rearview mirror.
“Can I come with you?” he asked eagerly. “Or do you want me to wait in the car? I can read my book.”
She shook her head immediately. “Come with me.”
He nodded and reached for his door. She slipped her press pass over her head and exited the Jeep. They walked around the side of the building to the service entrance, which was roped off with crime scene tape. Police cars were parked haphazardly around the entrance, sirens silent but blue lights flashing. The place was crawling with uniformed police officers. She spotted Henderson talking on his cell phone a few yards away, and flashed her credentials to a nearby uniformed officer, stepping over the crime scene tape. She waved at Henderson and made her way to him through the crowd.
Henderson hung up as she approached and held the phone up in her direction. “They’re in front of the judge now. We should have the search warrant for his office and residence any minute.”
“Anything out here?” she asked, waving a hand vaguely around the parking deck.
Henderson shook his head. “The truck is long gone. There’s nothing out here. That driveway is the only way in and out of this deck though, except the service elevator. So he had to go inside.”
“Are your guys checking the lobby cameras to make sure he didn’t leave between yesterday and today?”
Henderson looked at her, obviously insulted. “Do you think this is my first rodeo?”
She shrugged apologetically.
Henderson’s eyes flitted over to Clark, who had drifted over to a clump of uniformed officers and was chatting amicably with them. “Who’s this guy?”
“He’s with me,” she said.
His eyes narrowed, obviously clocking her non-answer to that question. “He got press credentials?” he asked with a smirk.
“I said he’s with me,” she said, her cheeks heating up.
“What is this? Take Your Boyfriend to Work Day?” Henderson asked drolly.
“We were at lunch when I got your page,” she said hotly. “He’s only in town for a few days. I’d really love to not be spending it here with you, but since some people obviously can’t do their jobs and keep their prisoners under lock and key, here we are.”
Henderson raised one eyebrow and smirked. He looked from her to Clark and back. “Wait, he’s really your boyfriend?”
She realized suddenly that he had just been teasing her about him being her boyfriend. He probably assumed she had no personal life and had thought Clark was a colleague or source. She rolled her eyes and nodded.
Henderson gave her a barely contained grin and looked Clark over. He was dressed in jeans and a plain blue t-shirt that should have been nondescript but did nothing to hide his chiseled physique. He turned then, as if sensing them talking about him, and shot her a brilliant smile, before turning back to his conversation.
“He lives out of town?” Henderson asked, always nosy despite pretending not to care.
“Kansas,” she said softly.
Henderson looked taken aback and whistled under his breath. “That’s a hell of a commute.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly, an edge of irritation creeping into her voice. “It sucks. I don’t get that much time with him. I was really looking forward to this visit, and we’ve spent the whole thing…. It’s just not great timing.”
“Well, if it’s such an inconvenience for you, I could always call some other reporter….” Henderson teased.
Lois rolled her eyes again. “Dream on. Let’s just get this wrapped today so I can spend the weekend with him.”
Henderson laughed, and then they were interrupted by his ringing cell phone. He answered and listened quietly for a minute. When he hung up, he raised the phone in the air and addressed the crowd at large.
“We’ve got it. Everything in the residence and his private office. Let’s go,” he said loudly. He turned to Lois, and continued in a regular speaking voice. “Stay out of the way and don’t touch anything. That goes double for your boyfriend.”
Clark appeared at her side then, extending his hand and introducing himself. Henderson accepted the handshake. “Bill Henderson,” he said, looking at Clark suspiciously. “You aren’t a reporter, are you?”
Clark laughed. “I’m a teacher.”
Henderson turned and led them toward the freight elevator, muttering under his breath. “A teacher? From Kansas?”
The next two hours were a blur of crime scene investigation protocol. They started in his private residence, searching the place thoroughly in hopes that he was squirreled away in a closet or under the bed. When it became obvious that he wasn’t there, they moved on to collecting evidence, looking for any signs that someone had been there recently.
Hotel staff still cleaned his residence routinely, so it looked as if he had just stepped out for a meeting and would be back any minute. But Luthor’s private residence had been unoccupied since he was arrested the previous June. Luthor’s lawyers had fought hard for bail, prepared to pay any amount to get their client out of jail. But the judge had deemed him a flight risk, for obvious reasons, and Luthor hadn’t seen the inside of his residence in a year and a half.
When it was clear that nothing exciting was going to be revealed in the residence, Lois took Clark to Luthor’s office, where officers were conducting the same sort of search, having already ascertained that Luthor wasn’t present in the office either.
Henderson was taking a break from barking orders, standing aside and watching as his men collected evidence, when Lois approached.
“I guess it was too much to ask that he be sitting here waiting for us,” she said ruefully.
Henderson grunted a response. “Wouldn’t that have been nice.”
“There are seventy-eight floors of hotel rooms in this building,” Lois said. “Not to mention the other businesses and event spaces.”
“We’re on it,” Henderson said. “Working on a search warrant for the hotel records.”
His walkie-talkie crackled to life, and Lois heard a voice say, “Press is here. News vans pulling up now.”
“Great,” Henderson said bitterly. “Your friends are here.”
Lois laughed. “Don’t look at me. I don’t want them here any more than you do.”
Henderson picked up his radio and told his men to keep the press outside the hotel and to tell them the Chief would be there to give a press conference at four o’clock.
She wandered over to where Clark was standing near Luthor’s desk. The crime scene crew had already finished examining that area, so she couldn’t imagine what he was looking for, but he was staring intently at the desk, occasionally lowering his glasses and then sliding them back up in a way that seemed like a nervous habit.
By the time she made it to his side, he had crouched down and was looking under the desk.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Do you see something?”
“What color are the prison uniforms?” Clark asked. “Are they gray?”
Lois nodded. “Why?”
Clark said nothing, but pointed. Lois tried to follow, but didn’t see anything. Henderson approached just then, squinting to see what they were looking at.
“I told you two not to touch anything.”
“We haven’t,” Clark said immediately. “But look right there, at the molding at the bottom of the desk. See where it meets the rest of the desk?”
Henderson leaned forward. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Hernandez!”
A young crime scene tech appeared immediately. “Get in here and look at this,” Henderson said. “There’s some fibers.”
They all backed up and let the tech in with his tweezers and baggies. When he scooted back out from under the desk and held up the tiny bag of fibers, it was clear that they were indeed gray.
“How did you see that?” Lois asked.
“It could be anything,” Clark replied. “It’s not necessarily from Luthor. But it is gray.”
Henderson, still hanging around and now looking over the fibers, shot Clark a curious look. Clark gestured back to the desk, and Henderston followed his motion.
“That molding looks…funny,” Clark said. “I was looking at the molding when I noticed the fibers. You might want to…”
Now that he said it, Lois could see that the molding did, in fact, look off somehow. Like it was not quite flush with the desk. It was barely noticeable even when she knew what she was looking for, and she never would have noticed it if he hadn’t pointed it out.
Henderson called the tech back over and had it dust for fingerprints. When that was unsuccessful, he poked and prodded and finally pried at the molding until it suddenly popped off, revealing a hidden cavity.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered again. He pulled out his flashlight and shined it into the narrow crevice, revealing absolutely nothing. “If there was anything in there, it’s gone now.”
“Cash?” Lois asked, theorizing. “Keys?”
“Could be anything,” Henderson griped. “But those are good first guesses. Let’s get out of the way and let them dust in here too.”
They stepped back and watched the crime scene crew work for a while longer. When it seemed like there wasn’t anything else likely to be revealed, Lois pulled her phone out and called Perry, filling him in quickly on the search.
“McEntire will be here soon for a press conference. I’ll stick around for that, and then start writing. I doubt we’ll hear anything more tonight on the fibers, but I’ll keep checking in about that and the warrant for the hotel computer records.”
“You think he’s holed up in one of those hotel rooms?” Perry asked.
“Eh,” Lois said. “That seems unlikely. He had to know the police would search this building first. I can’t imagine he’s still here. I think maybe he came to get something and then left. Money maybe?”
“No word yet on security footage of him leaving?”
“Nothing yet. But I also doubt we’re just going to see him stroll out. If he stowed away in a box or luggage or…who knows what…it would be pretty easy for him to blend in when he left.”
“All right. Good job. You going to come in and write it up?”
Lois hesitated. “You okay if I write it up at home and send it in?”
“Of course,” Perry said. Then he hesitated too. “Is Kent there with you? Or did you leave him at home?”
“He’s here,” Lois said. “We were at lunch when Henderson called. We came straight here. He’s the one who saw the fibers. Henderson’s men missed them.”
“Good, good. He being understanding about all this?”
Lois laughed. “He’s being a lot more understanding than I am. I’m ready to hurl this pager into outer space.”
Perry chuckled, and Lois knew he had to be reflecting on the contrast between this conversation and the many they had two years ago when he begged her fruitlessly to take a break from her Luthor investigation and get a life.
