Hello again, everyone. How's everyone doing? It's been another week, and it's time for another chapter! Thank you for your support. It makes me warm and fuzzy, and I really, really appreciate it. I hope you all continue to enjoy my story.

Isabel Juno: That all depends on where you think it's going to go, haha.

Ethereal-Journey: I'm glad I can write them in character. And poor Natalie is right. Thanks for reviewing.

squigglydreams: Working on it!

OSuzanne: Haha, I've mastered the cliffhanger at this point in my writing experience. But this is my first mystery, so that's the difficult part for me. Although, I guess my Jimmy Neutron story was a mystery of sorts. Ah well. Onward! Thanks for the review.

MonkTeeger: Where is Natalie indeed! Maybe some of your questions will be answered in this chapter. Maybe.

Steeleafan: I plan on it.

Monkwriter: Thank you! And thanks for the review.

MonkRules!: Oh, but being tortured with cliffhangers makes it all the more worthwhile in the end. You'll see. Thanks for reviewing.

Alex455: It wouldn't be a Monk mystery if nothing happened to her, silly! Thanks for reviewing.

Eleadnor: Haha, I'm glad it rocks! I hope you continue to like it!

tallybear: Don't worry, I'm updating right now! Haha.

buckinut: Well, what's going to happen next is… just kidding. Read and find out!

Thanks again, everyone! I hope this next chapter suits your fancy.

…

Chapter 4: The Perfect Crime…?

Monk completely forgot why he came. It didn't matter anymore. He was all at once in detective-mode. "Did you call her phone?"

"Her cell phone? Yes! Like a million times." Julie backed away from the door, letting him inside. "She's never done this before, Mr. Monk. It's not like she has anywhere else to stay. She doesn't even have a boyfriend right now, so it's not like she can stay with him. And… and even if she was going somewhere, she would call to tell me!" Julie crossed her arms over her chest.

Monk was caught on something. "She doesn't have a boyfriend? What about… that Jimmy person? Jimmy Montanari. She seemed to really… uh… go out with him."

Julie was pacing the entranceway, distracted. "She broke up with him a couple weeks ago, maybe more than that."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Mr. Monk!" she nearly shouted, throwing up her arms in frustration. "Is it important?"

"Yes."

Julie stopped pacing. "Uh… She said something about things getting weird, I think. Does that mean something?"

"It's possible. Let me use your phone." Julie disappeared and returned a moment later with a handset. Monk took it with a wipe and dialed a familiar number very carefully. It rang twice before someone picked up. "Hello, this is Adrian… Monk. Is Captain Stottlemeyer in yet?... Okay, well you need to call him. It's an emergency. Tell him to come to Natalie's house… Yes, he'll know what that means."

He returned the phone to Julie, and she set it on a table shakily. "Mr. Monk, is my mom okay?"

Monk rolled a shoulder. "I don't know, Julie."

Her lip trembled. "At least you're being honest…"

"Did she call to let you know she was on her way home?"

She shook her head. "Before she left to bring you home, she told me she would probably be home soon, but she might be home later, and she said not to worry. You were there, remember?"

He nodded slowly. "Why didn't you call me, to check if she was still there?"

"I couldn't remember the last two digits of your number." Julie sighed, ashamed. "My cell phone—it had your number in it—was stolen a couple days ago. And Mom only ever put your number into her cell phone. I've been tearing the house apart to find a phonebook, but I don't know where it is." She sniffled. "And I didn't want to leave home to look for her incase she came back…" Groaning, she turned away from Monk. "It's like every part of it was meant to happen! My cell phone breaks, I can't find the phonebook, and now Mom goes missing."

"We'll figure this out, Julie," Monk said, resting a hand very lightly on her shoulder.

Julie nodded. "I just hope she's okay."

…

The pounding headache was the first thing she felt—in fact, it was probably what woke her from the otherwise remote realm of unconsciousness. The residue of sleep receded as she gained a feel for where she was. She was uncomfortable. That was the second thing she noticed. Her hands were bound tightly together behind her back by something that felt thin and stiff, like ductape. Her feet responded with a tingly sensation when she tried to wiggle her toes, and she decided that the circulation in her legs must have been cut off somewhere. The air was musky; it smelled damp and earthen. She could see no difference when she closed and opened her eyes. Wherever she was, it was completely sealed off.

Quietly, she shifted so that she wasn't crushing one of her arms. Closing her eyes and concentrating, she tried to remember what had happened. She was driving home from Monk's, and then… nothing.

Her headache pounded and throbbed. Monk. She focused on the image of his face, the brightest thing she could see, wherever she was. Suddenly exhausted, she drifted back to sleep, the detective's face smiling reassuringly. He was coming, like he always did.

…

Monk, not even thinking to use his elbow, pulled at the door handle and shot out of Julie's car. Julie was right behind him. "Captain!" Monk called out. He felt something of urgency, something of fear. After hours of searching, someone had called in an anonymous tip. Now they were in a small plot of woods south of San Francisco.

"Over here," Stottlemeyer beckoned from behind police tape and a mess of cops. "But tell Julie to stay back." He gave Monk a warning look before turning back to whatever he was doing.

"I want to see, Mr. Monk," Julie begged, pulling at his sleeve. She wanted his permission, despite Stottlemeyer's warning. Somewhere inside him, it gave him a glimmer of pride.

Monk turned around to face her, indecision written in his frown. "I don't know, Julie…" He closed his eyes, thinking. What would Natalie do? "I think… you should stay back, at least for now, and I'll tell you what we find." He touched her arm. "It'll be okay. We'll find her."

She nodded numbly. "I believe you, Mr. Monk."

Her words meant a lot to him. The fact that she listened meant even more. He smiled as reassuringly as he could, if not for her, then for himself. Then he crouched under the yellow tape surrounding the crime scene. Photographers and crime unit investigators swarmed through the trees and brush in search of any little clue. Monk, dodging the men in blue and the abundant nature at the same time, navigated around a tree and stopped short. He was very glad Julie was waiting somewhere behind the tape.

"Monk."

Stottlemeyer's voice startled him. The detective, with some effort, turned away from the scene. "What happened." It came out half strangled.

The Captain shoved his hands into his pockets in frustration. "It looks like somehow, some bastard got into her car. There's no other explanation for why her car would be here. He, or she, must have gotten in without her noticing, or something, and they ditched the car out here." He glared hatefully at the Audi, which looked out of place in the wooded area.

Randy stepped up, thumbing through his notebook. "Monk," he greeted. "Ironic, isn't it?"

Stottlemeyer raised a brow. "What's ironic, Randy?"

The lieutenant seemed surprised that Stottlemeyer didn't already know. "Well. It's Monk's first case in, well, forever, without an assistant—and it happens to be a case involving his assistant." He glanced back and forth between Monk and Stottlemeyer. "See? Irony." He looked down at his notes. "I was thinking of calling the perp 'the Natalie Napper.'"

Stottlemeyer dragged a hand down his face. "Randy—"

"What about 'the Natal-Skedaddler?'" He paused. "Nah, I like the first one—"

"Randy." The Captain looked like he was about to blow. "Just read the damn notes."

Randy stared for a moment. "Right. So the perp enters the vehicle sometime after Natalie leaves your house last night. Somehow, they get the car here—we can't tell whether or not Natalie drove—and then they both leave the car." He tapped his pencil against the notepad. "Here's the weird thing, though. There's no sign of struggle. No blood… in the car. We're waiting for the fingerprints, but I'm assuming the only ones there are Natalie's, yours, and Julie's—"

Monk's thoughts caught up with him. " 'in the car'…?"

Stottlemeyer held up a hand. "Now hold on just a second. There is blood outside the car, but a very small amount. We don't know whose it is yet." At Monk's expression, the Captain gave him an encouraging slap on the back. "We have no reason to believe the worst, Monk. This is Natalie. Everyone's putting in their best."

The detective nodded, walking past Randy to look at the car. Hands held in front of him, fingers splayed, he began to examine every aspect of the scene. First he looked around the car, then inside it. He checked the trunk, the tires, the engine and beneath the floor mats.

After minutes of waiting, Stottlemeyer cleared his throat. "…Anything, Monk?" The detective rubbed his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. "…Monk?" the Captain prodded.

"There's nothing…"

Stottlemeyer leaned forward to hear him better. "What?"

"Nothing! There's nothing!"

Randy gaped. "Wait, there can't be nothing… there's never been nothing."

Monk covered his eyes. "The seat is adjusted for Natalie. It wasn't changed, so I don't know who was driving. The guy left nothing behind, no hairs, no fibers, nothing. There's no dirt on the floor mats that wasn't already there, it doesn't even look like there was someone in the back seat. There's nothing!"

Stottlemeyer shook his head. "There's always something, Monk. Look harder! You just aren't seeing it."

Monk glanced at the car. "The rear window's cracked open, about an inch. Gee, now there's something important. Captain, the window's open, we've solved the case!"

Taking a deep breath, Stottlemeyer escorted Monk away from the scene. "Listen Monk, I know this is difficult without Natalie here, but you have to do this for her. You have to find her."

"What's the point?" Monk cried. "She's going to quit anyway."

Randy, having followed them away from the car, stopped short. "She's quitting?"

"She didn't say it," Monk muttered. "But she wanted to. I could tell."

"That's something to worry about later, Monk," the Captain said, pushing him along, "but for now, we've got an open window and some blood. We're going to do the best we can." He held the police tape up for Monk to slip beneath.

Julie, leaning against her car, saw Monk and ran to the tape. "Mr. Monk! Anything?"

Refusing to meet her gaze, Monk shook his head. He tried his hardest to think, to put something together. An open window. Some blood on the ground, but no signs of struggle otherwise. Nothing in the car. Nothing at all that was out of place. No footprints Never had a perpetrator been so neat! He pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled a shoulder when he realized that everyone was staring at him.

"…Anything?" Stottlemeyer asked. Monk was about to shake his head when a car came careening down the road. A blue rental, also looking out of place in the middle of the woods, skidded to a halt behind Julie's car. "Who is that?" the Captain asked angrily. He motioned to an officer nearby. "Tell him to get the hell out of here! This is a crime scene!"

The car door swung open. "Adrian! I got the information you asked for! You were right!" The company heard the voice before they saw the blonde curls appear over the car.

Randy's jaw dropped. "Is that… Sharona?"

Stottlemeyer looked at Monk. "Wait. Am I missing something here?"

"Monk!" Sharona cried again. "I can't believe it! You were right." She glanced at Randy and Stottlemeyer. "Hey guys." She grinned.

"I'll explain later," Monk said. He turned to his former assistant. "I called her this morning before you guys got the anonymous tip. Sharona, what did you find?"

She glanced down at some papers in her hand. "Jimmy Montanari. He works in a research lab at the University of California. Apparently, he's been calling out sick for the past week."

Julie perked up. "Jimmy? You mean Mom's boyfriend?"

"W-w-wait, Natalie has a boyfriend?" Randy seemed dubious.

Monk nodded. "Ex-boyfriend, actually. I don't know if he's the guy." He looked at Stottlemeyer. "But he definitely has something to do with this."

The Captain nodded. "Explain it to me later. Right now, it's all we got. Randy, I want an APB put out on this guy. Send some guys to wherever the heck he lives. Make sure everyone knows this is for Natalie."

"Yes sir." Randy couldn't seem to get over Sharona's presence, but he tore his gaze away from the woman and pulled out his cell phone. "This is Disher. Get me an APB on a Jimmy Montanari, employed at UCSF. Right. And make sure everyone knows, this one's personal."

…

The day passed at a snail's pace. Despite the whole force being on the lookout for Jimmy Montanari, he was nowhere to be found. And the supervisor at the university refused to talk to the police unless they found incriminating evidence against Jimmy besides a shaky motive, which left everyone back at square one.

Monk hated square one.

He sat silently on his living room couch, head in hands. He had insisted on taking Julie in while her mother was gone—he couldn't imagine leaving her alone—and the young adult had parked herself in the plush chair adjacent to the couch. She was wrapped in a blanket she brought from home, fast asleep. Neither of them had slept a wink the night before, but even now Monk couldn't bring himself to dose off.

Sharona was in the kitchen, making dinner. He was too tired to worry about whether he trusted her to make the food properly. He was too focused on other things to care. It felt strange. One day ago, he would have had Natalie leave him if it meant he could get on with his pessimistic life as usual. He hated change. He hated knowing things would change. Natalie was bound to leave eventually, and it only made sense for her to leave now, when he was ready, or at least expected it, than later. But now he saw Sharona's argument. He would never be ready. For a very big, very hard to accept reason.

He glanced up at Julie. She was starting to look and act more and more like her mother. Despite the situation, she had the strength to be brave, just like her mother when a killer was apparently killing every Julie Teeger. She shifted in her sleep, and Monk smiled.

Footsteps approached. "Hey."

He looked up at Sharona in the doorway. "Thanks for cooking," he said.

"Sure, sure." She sat down on the couch next to him. "It's going to be another ten minutes while it stews."

"What did you make?"

"Just some pasta." No one said anything for a few moments. She sighed. "Adrian, we're going to find her."

He bobbed his head. "Even if we find her…" he squeezed out, "she doesn't want to stay." He glanced at Julie, who was snoring softly. "She wants to quit. You were there. You saw what she was about to say."

"She doesn't want to quit, Monk. She thinks you want her to. She thinks that just because I came back, you suddenly want to replace her." Sharona touched him on the arm. "I'm sorry I came unannounced. I really threw a wrench into things, didn't I?"

"I think you mean threw a hammer."

"Adrian, the expression is throw a wrench. Sometimes it's a monkey wrench."

He laughed at her apparent foolishness. "I don't think so. Hammer."

Sharona rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to argue this." She paused. Their eyes met. "It's wrench."

"Hammer."

"Anyway, Adrian, I'm sorry."

He sighed. "It wasn't your fault." He paused. "I don't think I can do this alone without Natalie." He whimpered, hiding behind his hands. "Natalie…"

"I can't be here for more than a week, Adrian. But in the mean time, I'll do my best to help you find Natalie." She leaned back into the couch. "She really is important to you, isn't she?"

He made no attempt to acknowledge her rhetorical question. His wallet sat, not uncomfortably, in his pant pocket. He closed his eyes, recalling the image of the little girl on the photograph within. It was his fault that she was gone now. Somehow, it had to be.

"I'm going to make a deal with you, Adrian."

Monk brought his gaze up to Sharona. "A deal?"

"Yes. I will guarantee that we find Natalie before I leave. But in return, you have to do something for me." Monk gulped. "You have to tell Natalie why she can't quit."

Monk shook his head. "No! I can't! What about Trudy?"

Sharona scoffed. "Oh please. Trudy is the last thing on your mind when you look at her."

Monk mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" Sharona leaned forward, then laughed. "You're blushing!"

"What? No I'm not."

Sharona grinned. "Fine. But if I'm going to help you, you're going to tell her. Deal?"

Monk fidgeted. He weighed his options. Sharona wouldn't abandon him if he said 'no deal,' but she wouldn't be very happy. And Monk need her help desperately. He decided to save getting the courage for later. Meeting Sharona's intent gaze, he nodded his head slowly.

"Deal."

…

Natalie had no sense of time. When she woke up again, everything appeared to be the same. She briefly wondered if she was dead, but decided that, if she were dead, she wouldn't be bound, gagged, and in the dark. Her headache had become a dull pulse in the back of her head, and as she got a better grip on consciousness, she debated attempting to escape when she saw a ray of light somewhere in the distance. A door creaked open, then shut. She heard footsteps.

"Natalie," a voice called softly. Her gag was removed.

She recognized the voice immediately. "J… Jimmy?" Her throat was dry, and her voice came out rasping.

"Oh, thank goodness you're okay!" He sounded incredibly relieved, but he was whispering. "I'm going to get you out of here." She heard clothes shuffle, then something was pulling at her arms.

Natalie swallowed. "How did you know… I was here? What's going on?"

"I'll explain later," he said, grunting with the effort of breaking her restraints.

Suddenly, the door in the dark swung open again. "Montanari." The voice was loud, assertive, and icy. It made Natalie's heart stop.

Jimmy froze. "Yes, Mr. Williams?"

"What are you doing in here?"

"Checking on her."

"Is she conscious?"

"Not yet. You hit her pretty hard."

"Well the police are looking for you. Go home. When they find you, tell them you were visiting your sick uncle."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't do anything stupid, Jimmy. We get the ransom, and then we're done."

"Yes… sir," he repeated, albeit with little enthusiasm.

Natalie felt him squeeze her arm reassuringly, then he, and 'Mr. Williams,' were gone.

The door swung shut, and she was back in the dark, cold, frightened, and alone.

…