"Oh, hell."

Carlton was the first into the room at the Baymont, and the first to see that it had obviously been trashed. Female clothes littered the room, some of them even ripped apart. The drawers of the little nightstand were halfway across the room, and even the mattress was tipped off, exposing the grungy boards beneath. Lassie wrinkled his nose.

Shawn was 'discreetly' pawing through items for clues, and Gus had found a ceramic kitten in the bathroom, which now resided in his front pocket.

Carlton picked up a badly torn shirt and recognized it as the one she'd worn to the bar they'd gone home from. Snapping out of his stupor, he leapt into action.

"We have to call this in, she's obviously in danger, possibly even kidnapped. We can't file a missing-persons, but we can still tell the station to watch out for her and get the Chief's permission to investigate. God knows she owes me some favors."

Lassie's face was thunderous, and he walked out briskly, attempting to head to the station. He couldn't keep his shoulders high for long though, they slumped in worry as soon as he was sure Shawn and Guster couldn't see him.

What's wrong with me? I've never been this emotional over a woman. Much less someone who'd frequent a bar. It was really a one-off, that night, I only went to the bar because Juliet said I needed to get out of the house. Now look what's happened, I'm love-sick over a girl that I can barely remember. I can't deny they're good memories though.

He walked down the stairs to the parking lot and sighed.

What if she's being abused? Tortured? Raped?

He stopped, his fists shaking, and punched the wall viciously. Recoiling, he cradled his bleeding hand and looked at it contemplatively.

Jesus Christ. I need to get it together and find her before any of those things DO happen.


At the station, he asked Karen if he could have two days off to further investigate her disappearance.

"Carlton, no! You're my head detective, and we are running a very high-profile case right now. I need you on Catrone, not some bar fling."

He got angry that she'd describe her as a bar fling, but then realized the truth and he sighed.

I forgot about Catrone. That goddamned thug couldn't keep his hands out of bank vaults if he tried.

Ricky Catrone was a high-profile member of an English gang that liked to call themselves a Mafia. He'd emigrated from Russia to England, and then taken up residence in Santa Barbara, aligning himself with the American-Italian Mafia. Owning the title 'Underboss', the Santa Barbara P.D. hoped to catch him, and gain a lead on the actual boss.

Victor Capo.


Shawn and Gus were still in Lassiter's apartment, and had found nothing useful.

"Shawn, we should just go, I don't feel comfortable rooting through the man's things."

"You stole his fling's ceramic kitten, Gus."

"Yeah well, she ain't ever swung a sword at-"

Shawn had flung a hand up and slapped it over Gus's mouth. Pushing it away with a disgusted look on his face, he glanced at what Shawn was seeing.

A cigarette had been stubbed out on the rug, and on the unburnt end, the letter 'V' was printed.