Couple, Interrupted

"This is our exit," Shawn declared, indicated right and pulled the Civic onto a narrow unsurfaced track that opened up between the trees. Gravel crunched under the car's wheels, and Juliet spent the next few minutes wondering silently if Shawn had in fact any idea where he was going.

She saw it coming, but there was no time to think or react. She could not even raise her arms in defense. The red pickup crashed into the left side of their car, virtually coming out of nowhere. Then something funny happened with time and sound: both just ceased to exist. There should have been the screaming of torn metal, the crash of glass being shattered, the scratching of tires on loose soil, the cracking of the airbags being deployed. But although, in no particular order, all of this happened, Juliet did not even hear the throbbing of her own heart in her ears. She was all vision, felt no commotion or pain when the car was pushed off the road, slammed into the trees that bordered the trail and came to an abrupt halt.

Then time and sound returned to the world. A few seconds passed as Juliet counted to three with her eyes closed, making sure she was alive and not severely injured. When she looked up and to the left, she saw blood on Shawn's face and shirt, but his eyes were open, and he was breathing hard. She fumbled for the lock of her seatbelt. "Are you alright?" she asked. Silence and his blank gaze gave her the answer. "It's okay", she said. "You're going to be fine. Let's get out of the –" She spotted the red truck standing on the road, its front a little dented but other than that without any visible damage. Two men were climbing out of the car in this instant. Checked flannel shirts – one red, one blue –, trucker hats, rifles. The whole redneck routine. Juliet spat out a curse for not having taken her gun with her and pushed the door open. A cry of pain escaped her when a part of the plastic door covering, which had been stuck in her right thigh without her noticing, was now rudely pulled out. Blood had soaked the right leg of her pants and was dripping to the ground, but it did not appear to be arterial. She got out of the car, tried the leg and found that she could stand and walk without problems. So far, so good. Or maybe not, as she was looking into the muzzles of two rifles pointed at her face at a distance of a little more than five yards. "What do you want of us?" she snapped.

"You're coming with us," said the blue shirt, which was filled with about 6 feet and 250 pounds of black-bearded menace.

Juliet looked back at the Civic.

"Not him. Just you."

"Me? Why?"

"Jules?" A blood-covered face appeared in the broken window on the driver's side.

"Stay in the car, Shawn", she warned him. But of course, the door opened, and Shawn approached her with slow, careful steps. She stepped between him and the two men. Although she did not know what was going on, they appeared to have no use for him. Being expendable when there were heavy firearms involved was not a situation to walk into without a cover.

"Get over here!" Blue Shirt yelled.

"Whatever it is you want, you'll have to take both of us to get it", Juliet shouted back.

"What's going on?" Shawn asked lowly.

She scrutinized him. Life had returned into his eyes, but he was a little unsteady on his feet. "Let me handle it just this once," she said under her breath. "I don't think you'll be able to talk our way out of this one." She turned to face the gunmen. "So?" she asked loudly.

The men put their heads together and started whispering, Blue Shirt gesticulating with his free hand. Then they both laughed. "Fine", Blue said. "Have it your way. Just get the hell moving."

Juliet took Shawn's hand, keeping him behind her, and started walking towards the men. The two kept holding them at gunpoint, and she soon realized that the chances of overwhelming them were practically nonexistent.

This was coincidentally the moment in which she also realized that Shawn had let go of her hand and was tackling Red. Or at least he tried to. He did not even get close. Red casually stepped back, raised his rifle and battered him in the face. Shawn tried to dodge the blow, and the stock merely struck his cheekbone, but right now, that did the job just as well. He dropped to the ground face down. Red kicked him in the ribs.

"Stop it!" Juliet yelled and made a step toward him, and Blue grabbed her by the arm. "He's out cold, what more do you want?" She tried to break free, but Blue's grasp was too firm.

"Watch it, girl," he said. "You don't want to cause more trouble than you're worth."

Puzzle pieces started to shift into place. Juliet hesitated. "And how much would that be?" she asked.

"Lots, I hope. Now get on the car." He pushed her toward the truck bed. She climbed up, and he nodded to her. "Cell." She handed him her phone without further resistance, and he threw it to the ground and crushed it with the heel of his boot. Then he pulled out a cable tie and tied her wrists in front of her. Her ankles came next. Meanwhile, Red had emptied the pockets of Shawn's cargo pants. His cell suffered the same fate as Juliet's, his Swiss and wallet wandered into Red's pockets. He dragged Shawn to the car, heaved him on the bed and tied his hands and feet. A tarp was pulled over them. For a while, nothing happened. Then a metallic scraping told her that the truck's winch was pulled out. Of course – they were covering their tracks and taking the Honda with them.

Juliet figured they were safe for now. There was obviously a kidnapping in progress here, although right now, she had no idea why it was her they wanted and who they would turn to with the ransom note. Abducting a police officer was not exactly the smartest move. And although Red and Blue were certainly not the sharpest knives in the drawer, they could hardly be that stupid. In fact, she did not believe that they knew she was a cop. For some reason, she did not even have the impression that this had been in any way planned.

The truck's engine roared and they started to move. Juliet shifted a little so that she could look at Shawn. The tarp took away some of the fading daylight, yet it was bright enough underneath to see that he was still bleeding. With her hands tied, it required some patience, but she managed to tear several strips of cloth from his shirt. The wound was hidden below thick hair, so she rolled up one of the cloth pieces and pressed it on the spot where most of the blood seemed to come from, fixing it with an improvised head bandage. Another strip of cloth effectively stopped the bleeding from the flesh wound on her thigh. The pain was bearable, and she allowed herself to get weary. With a sigh, she leaned against the tailboard and bedded Shawn's head on her lap. As the truck rumbled along, Juliet tried to memorize the way, but all she could see when she lifted the tarp as far as she dared to were trees. At least she could conclude from the position of the setting sun that they were still going east.

Then, with some delay, it all started to make sense. Juliet suddenly had a vivid idea of who the ransom note would go to. She uttered a nervous chuckle. If they got out of this in one piece, there would be a lot of explaining necessary afterwards.

The liquor store was a flat building right next to a Taco Bell. A short, balding man in his mid forties was standing behind the counter. Lassiter approached him with firm steps and his badge held out in front of him. "Detective Lassiter, SBPD. I have a few more questions about the robbery."

"The attempted robbery."

"He didn't actually steal anything?"

The man shook his head. "The scumbag actually tried to shoot me. That ancient trash gun of his failed, though. While he was still fumbling with it, I had plenty time to show him this." He pulled out a rifle from under the counter, and Lassiter pushed it down with one hand.

"Alright, I've seen it. Now put it back, man. This is a police investigation, not an NRA meeting."

Lassiter's cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. "Yes. Mr. Rand, I'm somewhat busy right now. Could you –what?" He listened. "Yes, I'm as shocked as you are. … No, about the kidnapping, mostly. … They offered you what? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope you didn't take them up on that offer. … Good. I'll send you a team so we can trace the next call. … What do you mean, you already traced it? … A one-way cell phone, of course. From where? Simi Valley. Good. I'll inform the local police, but to be honest, I doubt that the kidnapper is stupid enough to call from his hiding place. You stay put with your phone and your… tracking device, just let me do the rest of the police work. I'll get back to you."

Lassiter ended the call and dialed again. "Guster. This is serious. Spencer and O'Hara have been kidnapped. If you have any idea where they might be, you have to tell me right now."

"Oh, that's cheap. Even for you."

"I am not making this up. Rand called me, there's a ransom demand. They want two million dollars if O'Hara is to be released."

"What about Shawn?"

"They offered to kill him for an additional 500 grand."

"I very much hope Declan's not paying that."

"He's undecided."

"I'll be right there. Where are you?"

"Meet me at the police station. Oh, and Guster, do me two favors."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do not call Henry Spencer. And don't wear your pajamas."