Hi everyone! Just a heads up, I have my midterms next week, so I may not be able to update until after then. But I promise I will try to write as much as I can in between studying. But for now, here is the second chapter. And please, review and give suggestions! Every time someone reviews, I spent an extra half hour writing. It really does help!
Ch. 2
Shawn winced, as Juliet was knocked cold.
"Hey, you should be gentle with her. There are consequences for hurting an officer of the law."
The thief's voice was flat as he responded, "I don't think I need to worry about that."
Distracted by the implications, Shawn didn't notice the tall man walking over to him until the butt of the gun was rushing towards him. With a crack and a small grunt of pain, he slumped forward, unconscious.
Head detective Carlton Lassiter walked into the Santa Barbara police station, wondering about his partner's odd phone call. He had returned to the station, like she had requested. He believed that she wouldn't have told him to if it were the wrong thing to do. But there had been something about her tone that hadn't seemed quite right. And her excuse for not coming back was downright strange, and not just because it would mean that Spencer had taste.
"Detective? What are you doing here? I thought you had gone to help O'Hara and Spencer." The chief's voice startled him, and he looked up sharply.
"Hmm?" he blinked, bringing himself back to reality. "False alarm. Spencer led us down the wrong trail." He remembered something else he was supposed to tell her, and added, "They have apparently also decided not to come back to the station today. Dinner now rates above work with them."
"Really? But it's only noon. Bit early for dinner…"
Turning around, Lassiter looked at the clock on a co-worker's desk.
He mentally cursed himself for not noticing. "Noon. I would say she was skipping work, but that's something Spencer would do. I'll call her and see what's going on." The chief walked away, and as he dialed, something else his partner had said popped into his head. A word she had stressed, in contrast to her otherwise flat tone…
The ringing stopped almost instantly, going to voicemail. He slowly closed his phone as the word echoed through his thoughts. It struck him as out of place, because it wasn't a word that he would normally associate with the cocky psychic, especially when asking someone to dinner.
Scared.
Shawn awoke laying on a hard, concrete surface. Above him, a few feet over his face, he saw concrete. He rolled over, and saw that he was in fact in a small room, lined with metal bars. A cell, about six by six feet. Looking closer, he saw a small hatch on the wall and a speaker in the corner. He was just reaching out to poke it, when a familiar voice came from it.
"Hello, Mr. Spencer! Good to see you awake. I trust you slept well?"
Despite being uncomfortable, stiff, and cold, Shawn couldn't hold in a smart remark.
"No, actually. The service here is terrible, and these beds are like rocks."
His captor was unamused, and his attitude changed with an impatient sigh.
"Cut the crap, psychic. I need you to tell me everything you know about that house that was robbed, now. Failing to do so will have consequences."
Raising his eyebrows at the serious tone of voice, Shawn put on his own business voice. "I'm afraid I can't help you there. You see, this is the Detectives' case, and Lassie wouldn't let me in. I'm just the tracker."
A faint laugh came from the speakers. "Thank you, Mr. Spencer. You've told me exactly what I needed to know."
Shawn's eyes widened in horror as he realized what he had just done. "Wait, no. I didn't mean-"
But the click of the speakers cutting of stopped him. Shawn slammed his head against the wall, furious at himself for being such an idiot. He had just told this dangerous man that Juliet had the information he needed, and knowing her she wasn't going to just hand it to him.
Juliet woke up for the third time that day, once again tied to a chair. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light as she took in her surroundings. She was definitely not in the repair shop anymore, and the chair was different as well. The concrete walls of the small room were blank, except for wires running along the tops and a mirror on one wall. Several of the wires ran directly to her metal chair, and others to little boxes in the corners that looked like they probably had something else in them. The chair in question was solid black, with a high back and armrests. Pinning her to it were thick leather straps, buckled around her wrists and upper arms, upper chest and waist, knees and ankles. Whoever had put her here had fairly extensive recourses, and meant business.
She turned her attention towards the mirror and gazed at her own wide-eyed reflection. Someone had removed her suit jacket, and her hair was loose and falling out of its knot at the back. The minutes ticked by, and she was fruitlessly tugging at the leather that held her in place when the door was abruptly opened. She jumped, and the man from before strutted in boldly. He was barely recognizable, his demeanor and appearance had changed so much. His beard was trimmed; his face and hair were washed, the hair slicked back. Gone were the baggy jeans and the filthy hoodie, they had been replaced by and expensive-looking suit. He no longer slouched and his eyes were clear and focused. All in all, he was a much more frightening man than before.
"Hello, detective. I hope I haven't kept you waiting long; I was speaking to Mr. Spencer. And he has kindly told me exactly where to find the information I am looking for."
Juliet's heart jumped at his words. "What information?"
"Well, miss O'Hara, that man who's house I was searching stole something very valuable from me. Some papers. And if anyone knows where the man or the papers are, then it would be the detective working the case. Am I right?"
Juliet needed to know exactly who this man was and what was going on, without seeming threatening or nosy. After thinking for a moment, she replied,
"I might know about the papers. Why are they so important? Maybe if you can tell me something about them then I will be able to tell you where they might be."
The man crossed the room in two steps, until he towered over her. His calm face was gone, replaced by cold anger.
"Listen up. I don't have times for your clever games. There is information in those files capable of bringing down the government, and if I don't retrieve them ASAP, then me and this entire organization are toast. So you are going to tell me how to find them, whether or not you want to."
The blonde detective frowned, baffled by his words. "You work for the government?" why would a government official kidnap someone in the police force?
He smiled coldly, and Juliet shivered. "Quite the contrary. We are hired to bring down governments. This is certainly our biggest job yet, and if we blow it, we're finished. So, you see, I am completely prepared to do absolutely anything to get those files back. And certainly nothing as petty as moral values will stand in my way, so I hope for your sake that you are planning on cooperating. Are we clear?"
Juliet stared up at the man in shock as she finally realized where she was and who she was dealing with. This place, wherever it was, was a terrorist base. Hired terrorists, that was a new one. When she remained silent, the man turned and walked out the door. Just before he closed the door, he turned and said to her, "Think carefully, detective, before you make your decision. And take care not to forget who I am, or the methods at my disposal for getting what I want from you. I haven't really told you, I suppose, but you seem clever. Use your imagination."
The door clicked softly closed, and Juliet was left alone. Her heart was racing and she took slow, deep breaths to try and calm it. Ok. She told herself. Don't panic, you can get out of this, you've been in worse situations. She paused, not being able to think of any. He's probably bluffing, anyways. Hired terrorists? Seems a bit far-fetched. But she was becoming less and less sure as she looked at her surroundings again, and realized why they looked so familiar. There were a lot of extra wires and gadgets lying around, but the design was basically the same. The size, the mirror, the placement of the door.
It was definitely in an interrogation room.
