After a year and a half of unfinished, unpublished stories, I finally managed to pull myself together to finish a multi-chapter fic.
Huge thanks to Lily Moonlight for help with the plot and RandomDanishCitizen for proof-reading and moral support.
Chapter 1:
The precinct began to clear out as day shift made way for night shift. Plans for dinner were being made among a group of rookies while others left for home. Flack, however, stayed by his desk and at least pretended not to feel the slight twinge of hunger as he leaned over his reports once again.
After spending his morning in the field, he had finally managed to clear a few hours in the afternoon to do a bit of off the record research. With the help of a colleague, who knew he would take an interest, certain reports had landed on his desk early that morning. To his colleague, they were reports of minor drug-related crimes with no apparent connection and spanning the past four months. However, two of the names that had popped up during the investigation of the most recent case, were quite familiar to Flack and the MOs in all cases were similar enough that Flack deemed it necessary to spend his afternoon by a desk, looking for connections rather than in the field, doing what he loved most: Chasing after criminals and mocking the CSIs for their excessive love of science.
The last time he saw the two suspects, they had walked out of the courtroom with their associates – all free men due to a chain of custody screw-up, that left the case resting on the statement of a confidential informant, whose credibility was no better than that of the men standing trial.
Refusing any form of witness protection, the CI, Randy, had since made a life for himself, working construction jobs in the city. Last Flack heard from him, he was getting married and saving up to buy a house.
Flack, however, hadn't been able to let go of the case and even though these new crimes gave him an opportunity to set things right, something bothered him. When he had worked the original case, these two goons were part of a well-connected gang. What were they doing roughing up low level dealers? Even if the case against them cost them a great deal of money, two years were more than enough for them to get back on their feet. And why were only two of them involved?
Adding that to the list of questions that certainly wouldn't be answered by sitting around staring at those reports all night, he shoved his chair back and ran a hand through his hair. He could go grab a bite to eat and then take one last look at the reports before calling it a day.
He had only just pushed the reports into his drawer, when the officer, who had given him the reports in the first place, made his way into the precinct followed by a young woman.
"Hey Flack" he called out as he approached Flack's desk. "You might want to handle this."
Despite having promised himself dinner, he gestured for the young woman to take a seat across from him. He reached for his memo book in his coat pocket, but the woman didn't even offer him the chance to ask what it was about, before she began her story.
"My name is Maya Thomson." She said. "I understand that you used to work with my husband?"
"Your husband?" Flack asked, even though he had a suspicion who her husband was. He saw no need to fuel the woman's concerns, by letting her think there was any reason he wouldn't be surprised to hear of him on that day of all days.
"Randy. He was a confidential informant for a while." She explained. Flack wasn't sure if it was simply a remnant of his own guilt for not being able to properly close the case, but he was certain he saw anger on the young woman's face.
"Yeah, I worked with him." He said, wanting to add that he was a great guy, but it seemed futile, stupid even. "Has something happened?"
"I don't know." She said. "He's missing."
"Have you filed a missing persons report?" He asked, diverting his attention to his memo book where he scribbled down a few pointless phrases to avoid the look of exasperation on her face.
"He hasn't been missing long enough." She told him. "And before you ask what makes me think something has happened to him, I just know it. They came to see him last night; I think he went with them. I haven't seen him since."
"You know, I have to ask; who's 'they'?" He asked, even though he already knew. His brain was already busy making connections between the cases that had landed on his desk that morning, and Randy's sudden disappearance. It had to all be connected, and Randy's disappearance might just hold the answer to all the questions he hadn't been able to answer earlier.
"The men he ratted on for you." She said. Even though she appeared calm, it was clear even to him that it wasn't just his own guilty conscience that had him detecting a hint of anger. "They've been trying to get him back in, for whatever reason. He told them off, but they wouldn't let him go."
"You have no idea why they wanted him back in?" His question seemed pointless but as he made the connections between cases, he knew it all lead back to Randy working for him years earlier and he hoped against hope for any indication that this wasn't a case of revenge.
"No. He said something about his connections." She said, "Listen detective, I know how these people deal with rejection. Hell, you know better than anyone. I'm telling you something bad has happened."
"We can't officially open a case as long as he hasn't been missing longer." He told her. He watched almost numbly as she stood up, the chair tumbling backwards by the force. It wasn't until both her palms slammed down on his desk, that he snapped out of it.
"He risked his life for your case. All of this is happening because of that case." She said. "Find him detective, you owe him that."
It took him several minutes to calm her down, but after another half hour she left the precinct, knowing Don had given her his word, that he would do everything he could to find her husband, because he did, in fact, owe him that.
Flack gathered the files under his arm and left the precinct shortly after. Mrs. Thomson had left him feeling responsible for the disappearance of her husband, and even though he might not officially be able to do anything yet, protocol wasn't going to stop him this time and he knew exactly who to ask for help. His only concern was, that one of these days there would be consequences beyond a simple reprimand for her if she kept balancing right on the edge of what Mac would consider legitimate police work.
He called her as he headed for his car, figuring that he could at least call ahead when he planned on dropping in to as such a favor of her.
"Hey Stell, are you still at the lab?" He asked right as she answered. He already felt the clock ticking at the back of his mind. If they wanted any shot at finding Randy alive, they had to act fast.
"Yeah," She said. "Why, you got something more exciting than paperwork for me?"
"I need to ask you a favor." He said. He could just imagine the way she would've crossed her arms if they had been talking face to face; her eyebrows slightly lifted, as she waited for him to elaborate. "Off the book."
"Uh huh. So you decided to call Stella's office of shady business?" She asked, drawing a chuckle from him. "Alright, I was just about to leave for the night anyway, why don't you come by the lab and explain this questionable plan of yours?"
At the lab, Stella sat in her office, trying in vain to focus on her paperwork while every movement by the elevator drew her attention away from the task at hand. She knew she should've asked more questions when Don had called her, but she hadn't wanted to push when he was going to come to the lab and explain anyway. Still, she counted the minutes until he finally exited the elevator and made his way to her office.
"Before you start explaining, I need to know," She said, having already turned her chair to face the door. "Are you in trouble?"
"No." He just said, but it was enough for her to breathe a sigh of relief. "Someone I used to work with might be."
He sat down on the corner of her desk and began to explain the situation to her: How the CI had gone missing and how his wife had cornered Flack in the precinct, but most importantly, how he felt responsible for what had happened because the case had gone down the drain.
"I know we'll be able to open a case in the morning, but if this head start is the only thing I can do for Randy, I should at least do that." He said. "Look, if you get into trouble with Mac, I'll take the fall for it. I need your help."
"I get it, Don." She told him, and she really did; she'd had more than her share of that kind of cases. "Let start by tracing his phone, just to rule out any simple explanation."
"Thanks Stell." He said. "I'll owe you for this."
"You bet you will." She said, as she pushed herself up from her chair and led him down the hall. "Though I'll probably get in more trouble with Adam for breaking into his lab while he's not there, than I will with Mac for helping you out."
"Probably." Flack said. A few minutes later they were both in Adam's sacred lab, waiting for his computer to finish running the trace on Randy Thomson's phone.
"Do you think he's still alive?" Stella asked.
"I really don't know." Flack said, even though he sincerely hoped he was. "Nothing in this case makes sense. Why would they even want him back after he betrayed them? I don't buy that they were after his business connections. A gang like that has to have far better connections."
"Hopefully he'll be alive to give us an answer." Stella said as the computer announced that the trace was complete. "We've got a location."
"What do we do now?" Flack asked.
"Well, we can't get back-up for unofficial business." She said, not liking what she was about to say one bit. "Feel like going rogue?"
She knew that if Mac were to have a problem with their endeavor, it was more likely to be with them rushing in on their own than with them looking into a disappearance a few hours early, yet they had very few options.
"Look, if I call Mac on the way and let him know where we're headed, we should be okay to look into it." She said.
"It almost seems too easy." Don said, and Stella could only agree. If this gang really were as connected as Flack said they were, they wouldn't leave their backs exposed like this, but Stella still held on to the possibility of the CI having gone voluntarily.
"It does." She said, though not wanting to dwell too long on the subject she gave Flack a quick pat on the shoulder, before heading past him into the hall. "Come on, I'll give Mac a call on the go."
It had been almost dinnertime when they had left the lab and Flack hoped they could stop for food on their way back, seeing as he had won the right to drive (though only because Stella had been on the phone with Mac when they got to the car).
Mac, who according to Stella had been slightly annoyed with their plan, had insisted on meeting them at the address. That despite the fact that he had been headed out to a crime scene by the river, while Flack and Stella were heading out of town.
Now, almost two hours later, they were finally able to pull over near a small gravel road, that appeared to lead to their destination. Going in without back-up didn't afford them the luxury of driving up to the address and calling attention to themselves, so instead, they decided to walk the last stretch of road in an attempt at arriving somewhat undetected.
Only a few minutes of walking later, they reached what had undoubtedly once been a cute little house, hidden away among a group of trees, but was now no more than rubble that had never been removed and an old garden shed.
"Stell, is it just me or are there lights on in that shed?" Flack asked, already with one hand hovering by the gun holster at his hip. Stella bothered no reply, she didn't need to as they both made their way toward the shed, guns ready as their lack of back-up left both detectives slightly more on edge than they usually would've been.
"You ready?" Flack asked, receiving only a nod in response before he pushed the door to the shed open. Revealing nothing but an empty room. A lit flashlight lying on an old workbench had been what called their attention to the shed, but what soon caught Stella's eye was the small plastic device next to it.
"Is that his phone?" She asked.
"I don't know, might be." Flack said, wanting to approach though he was held back by Stella's hand on his upper arm.
"I'll get my kit. You stay with the evidence." She told him, already headed out of the shed. "But don't contaminate anything."
"We're working off the record and you worry about chain of custody?" He called after her, chuckling as she offered a shrug in response and disappeared in direction of the car.
Heading down the narrow road in the half darkness of the early evening, didn't do much to soothe the uneasy feeling in Stella's gut. Don had been right; it all seemed too neat. Especially after they found the phone lying there, waiting for them like that. She considered, briefly, calling for back-up when she got to the car. After all they had reason to suspect foul play by now, but they would, inevitably, run into an explanation problem, when asked what they were doing out there in the first place.
A cellphone on a workbench would hardly be considered enough to warrant this rogue investigation. Not only would she get herself and Don in trouble, but with Mac on his way, he would take a hit from all of this as well. For now, they'd be better off avoiding back-up.
She would feel a lot better once Mac made it there anyway. At least that's what she tried to convince herself, until she approached the car and heard the sound of a tire blowing.
"What the hell?" She asked.
Drawing her gun, she approached the car a single step at a time, soon able to make out the form of a man as he moved from one of the back tires to one at the front.
She set into a sprint, all thoughts of back-up temporarily forgotten as she got within firing range of the unidentified man.
"Freeze!" She yelled, out of breath. "Don't move"
Seemingly unfazed by her appearance in the darkness, he lunged at her, shoving her out of the way before she could even think to fire a warning shot. She tumbled sideways, careful to hang on to her gun as she fell, while he took off into the darkness, leaving her no hint to where he went.
"Damn it!" She cursed, as she pushed herself back up, already searching around her to find out where he had gone, without any luck.
She took a few moments to compose herself before she rushed off to the car to act on her earlier impulse to call for back-up, before she headed back toward the shed to warn Don, feeling as if every step she took was being carefully watched.
