Warning – This series covers the subject of child abuse - both physical and sexual. While a lot of it is 'off screen' and depicted as part of the past storyline, there are sections in this story which does describe it more graphically.

When a Child is Lost

"One red, two yellow and three blue."

Surrounded by an assortment of balloons in various shapes and sizes, Blair played happily on the Taggert's living room floor. He was three now, or so everyone was telling him, and apparently when you are three you have a party. He'd never had a birthday party before. Although he'd been invited to one or two, he was a little hesitant about what to expect. His dad had said that he could invite whoever he wanted, but apart from Holly, he didn't need more people; he was happy and far more comfortable in just the company of his family.

Kicking away a stray balloon with his foot, Blair's attention was drawn to a strange noise that sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. "Jessie," he called, grabbing Big Bird and scrambling to his feet, "what that noise you making?" As he headed in the direction of the kitchen, another noise distracted him and piqued his curiosity. Changing track, he headed toward the front door. "Mama!" he exclaimed.

Naomi Sandburg hovered anxiously on the front porch of the Taggert's quiet, suburban home. Her usual attire of a vibrant, coloured sundress was hidden beneath a thick woollen cardigan and a pair of shabby hiking boots, giving her normally bohemian appearance a somewhat 'outdoor woodsman' feel. She looked past her son without acknowledging his greeting. The event happening in the kitchen was making her nervous, and she knew that their time was limited.

"Mama, wheh you been?" Blair asked, drawing closer to the locked screen door.

Still ignoring her son, Naomi pulled on the door. It was, as it had been a few minutes earlier, still locked, and keeping her from carrying out her intended task.

"Wheh you been, Mama?" Blair asked again. He was used to his mother disappearing from time to time, but this had been the longest he could ever remember her being gone, and he had missed her. "Did you finded you insides, Mama?" he asked, becoming more and more excited with the fact that she'd come back.

Again, she ignored his question. Her only goal was to gain access to the house and find out what was taking the boy inside so long. "Blair, baby, come and unlock the door for Mama," she said, in a voice laced with sweet persuasion. Dropping to her knees, and for the first time since arriving at the house, she made eye contact with her son. "Mama can't wait any longer to hold you in her arms. Come and unlock the door, sweetie."

Guided only by his sense of right and wrong, Blair hesitated. He had missed his mother and he did want to see her, but Jessie and Joel's number one rule was to never unlock the front door. "I hab to ask Jessie first," he told her, displaying a sense of his growing maturity. "I not 'llowed to let people in the house. That the rule. The numbuh one rule."

"Oh darlin', Mama's not a stranger, so that rule doesn't apply to me. I'm sure Jessie won't get cross if you unlock the door for your own mother."

Blair was now confused. He couldn't remember if Jessie had said that he was 'never' to unlock the door, or whether he was meant to not unlock it for strangers. He looked into his mother's pleading eyes and was immediately drawn into the web she was so skilled in weaving. She was his mother; his love for her was young and pure and, despite everything she'd let happened to him, he still trusted her and he did still love her.

With his decision made, Blair dragged the little stool that was beside the door into position and climbed up on it. His fingers reached up to release the lock, but stopped suddenly when a voice behind him startled him. It was a male voice, a voice he did not know – a voice that should not have been in Jessie's house.

"Hey there, little guy, why don't you let me do that?"

Before Blair could react, a large hand reached over his head and unlatched the lock. Before he even had a chance to turn around, he was swept off the stool and into the arms of his mother. "Good boy," she said, although by the direction in which she was looking, Blair wasn't sure if she was talking to him, or to the stranger behind him. Twisting around to get a better look, Blair carefully studied the person that was not meant to be in the house.

At the age of sixteen, Lucas Wilder already stood close to six feet tall. Solidly built, with a broad chest and wide shoulders, his medium-length blond hair framed a tanned, handsome face and, although his lively blue eyes had seen a lot in their time, they still sparkled with mischief and didn't miss the opportunity to give the youngster a quick wink.

Blair studied the boy for a few moments longer before squirming back around to face his mother. "Who that, Mama, and why he in Jessie's house?"

Naomi dropped Blair to her feet. "Sweetie, I'd like you to meet Lucas. He's a friend of mine."

"Pleased to meet you, Blair," Lucas smiled, holding out his hand.

"Ah you a boyfriend?" Blair asked bluntly, refusing to take hold of the extended hand.

"No baby," Naomi laughed, nervously. "Lucas is just my friend. I hope he can be your friend too."

Blair craned his neck to take a long hard look at the stranger. He didn't look like he would be mean, but he was awfully big, and too many of his mother's friends had been not very nice. He decided to keep his decision about whether he liked the stranger in reserve. Maybe when Jessie came out of the kitchen, she could take a look, and she could decide for him.

"Dude, look at all these balloons!" Lucas exclaimed. "It's not your birthday, is it?" He picked up the stuffed toy, which had fallen to the floor by the child's feet. "Hey I know this guy. It's Big Bird from Sesame Street, right? I used to watch that when I was a kid. My favourite was the Cookie Monster."

"Sweetie," Naomi interrupted. "How would you like to go to the park with Lucas and me? We could get some ice cream and maybe buy some bread to feed the birds. I know how much you love to do that."

Blair hesitated before answering. "I wait for Daddy to comed home, first," he replied, trying to sound as if he'd just made a very grown up decision. "I not 'llowed to go to the park with anyone 'less I ask Dad."

"Well pumpkin, Mama's already asked your dad. I gave him a call on his cell phone, and he said we could go as long as you were back in time for your party. He said to give you a big kiss and tell you to have a good time."

"He did?"

"Yes he did, sweetie," she lied.

"I suppose it be okay," Blair replied, with a measure of reserve still in his voice. He stood up on his tiptoes and rescued Big Bird from the hands of the stranger, before turning around to face his mother and her pleading eyes. His heart softened, and so did his ability to make the right decision. "If Daddy sayed so, then I must be 'llowed," he reasoned.

"Of course you are," Naomi replied, sweetly.

As his mother's eyes worked their magic on him, an exciting idea suddenly struck. "Ah you coming to my pahty, Mama?" Blair bounced on his toes, in the hope that she'd say 'yes'. Having both his mother and his daddy at his party would make it an extra, extra special day.

"Baby, I'd love to come to the party." Naomi replied, in a voice laden with feigned sincerity. Reaching down, she took hold of Blair's hand. "But we better get a serious wriggle on if we want to be back in time."

"Okay," Blair agreed, this time truly excited. "I just go tell Jessie that we ah going to the park but we be back fo' the pahty."

"Hey Blair," Lucas interrupted, shooting a look of concern Naomi's way. "Why don't I tell her? It would give me a chance to meet her and say hello."

This time, Naomi didn't give Blair a chance to answer. She tightened her grip on his hand and encouraged him, with a forceful tug to follow her.

"Bye Jessie!" Blair shouted, stumbling after his mother. "Me and Mama going to the park. I be back soon."

Jessie Taggert didn't hear a word the little boy said. Her unconscious body lay perfectly still on the kitchen floor.

~oOo~

Banks' sedan hit the curb before screeching to a complete stop outside the home of Joel and Jessie Taggert. Leaving the lights flashing, he hastily scrambled from the car and jogged toward a stretcher being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

"Jessie, are you okay?" Simon made no attempt to hide his concern as he reached out to take her hand. He gave a curt nod to the worried man who stood rigidly beside his wife's side.

"Oh Simon." Jessie tearfully latched on to the captain's hand. "They took Blair. They came into the house, Simon, and they took him. I had no chance to stop them."

"Sshh, Jessie, it's okay," Simon comforted, gently. "Did you get a look at who took him?"

"No." Jessie shook her head from side to side. "I didn't see a thing. I was checking on Blair's cake when all of a sudden someone grabbed me from behind and placed something over my face. All I can remember is this voice telling me that he wouldn't hurt me and that everything would be 'cool'."

"Jessie, if you heard that voice again, would you recognise it?"

Jessie nodded and closed her eyes for a brief moment. She was muddled and confused, but still she pressed hard to try and remember anything that would help. "I don't think he was an adult, Simon. The vernacular he was using didn't strike me as if it were coming from an adult."

"A teenager?" Banks questioned.

"Yes... yes, I think so?"

"Jess, you said that 'they' came into the house." Joel grasped his wife's other hand tightly, adding his strength. "If you didn't see anyone else, what makes you think there was more than one person?"

"I don't know?" Another tear leaked out from the corner of Jessie's eye and Joel moved quickly to thumb it away. "I don't remember, but I just have this feeling that there was also someone else in our house."

"It's okay," Simon hushed. "Don't push it, it'll come to you." He tucked her hand under the blanket. "We'll get him back, Jessie. I promise. We won't rest until we do." Tapping the stretcher, Simon gestured for the paramedics to continue. "Go with her, Joel," he said.

A fierce look of determination burned in Joel Taggert's eyes. No words were spoken between the two men; they both knew that this was not a case of 'if' they got Blair back, this was a case of 'when'. No matter how long it took or how many man hours were expended, Blair would be coming home.

Taking a deep breath as the ambulance pulled out of the driveway, Simon rallied himself for the most difficult task yet – facing Jim Ellison. As a father himself, he knew that the depths of the man's grief would be crippling, but he also knew that if they were going to have any hope at all of finding Blair, both of them needed to be in only one frame of mind – the mindset of the detectives that they were. While protocol would normally insist that Jim not be on the case, protocol didn't account for the fact that Jim Ellison was one of the best detectives in the department. Simon had already worked on pushing his role of 'uncle' to the background, and if Jim wanted to find his son, the role of father would also need to take a major step back. Banks wasn't sure if that was even feasible, but they had to give it a shot. For Blair's sake, they both needed to push down their fear-driven emotion and be at the very top of their game.

With a huge amount of reservation, Simon entered the kitchen and took in the sight of his best friend. The man's rigid, stalwart stance told him immediately that Ellison was already in prime detective mode. Feasibility had just moved to the front of the line.

"Tell forensics to dust the oven switch," Ellison ordered. "There's a fresh fingerprint on it, and there's more on the pillow and blanket that he covered Jessie with." Swinging around, Ellison acknowledged Simon. "Whoever this bastard was, he wasn't being very careful. He left a trail of evidence that a blind man could follow."

Simon nodded. "Well, from the little Jessie's managed to tell us about him, it appears that whoever took Blair was not much more than a boy himself." He looked over at the pillow and blanket that were now being bagged, "Jim, I know this is probably no consolation, but for the moment, maybe we should take some reassurance in the fact that the level of violence shown toward Jessie was very limited, and if the person who did this took the time to make her as comfortable as possible, then just maybe they might also be showing that same behaviour toward Blair."

"Reassurance be damned," Jim growled. "Whoever this bastard is, Simon, he broke into this house, rendered Jessie unconscious and kidnapped my son." Jim suddenly stopped talking and drew in a long, deep breath. A sweet, scented smell of perfume hung heavily in the air. "Naomi's been here," he stated without question. "She was behind this."

"And you know that how?" Simon asked.

"Because I can smell her," Jim spat. "I can smell her very essence."

Okay, maybe feasibility has just taken that flying leap out the window after all, Simon thought. Ellison's behaviour was becoming erratic, and he now realised that he'd have to be the driving force behind the investigation. "Jim, let's try focusing on the evidence at hand. What makes you think the perp's fingerprints are on the oven?"

"Look, Simon," Jim snapped impatiently. "I know that from where you're standing you're thinking that I'm just about to fall off the edge, but you're just gonna have to trust me on this one. I know what I'm doing, and if you don't let me do it and find my son, then I can guarantee you will see me fall apart."

Banks nodded. There was a look of desperation in Ellison's eyes, but there was also a look that he'd had become well accustomed to over the years. Determination was the driving force that made Jim as good as he was, and determination shone with vigour from the detective's eyes. "You've got the lead," he said, quietly.

"Captain," Rafe interrupted, "we've found the van. It was abandoned down at the local mall. We've run the plates, and it was reported stolen this morning."

"Any witnesses?" Banks pressed.

"One. A shop owner by the name of Tamara Wallace. She said she saw a woman placing a sleeping boy into a station wagon. Her description of the woman matches that of Naomi Sandburg."

"Any mention of a teenage boy?" Simon asked.

Rafe nodded. "The witness stated that she wasn't taking all that much notice, but indicated that she thought she saw a young man sitting on the driver's side of the car."

"You did good, Rafe," Simon said, squeezing the young detective's shoulder. "I want forensics crawling over that van. You got that?"

Rafe nodded again before glancing at Jim. "Yes, sir," he said.

~oOo~