Other than the standard disclaimer, which everyone should know by heart at this point, I find myself at a strange of loss of what to say, so without further ado, here is the next chapter, enjoy

Attempting to catalogue his prison had been an agonizingly slow process made more difficult by the throbbing in his head and persistent ache that had settled in his left wrist.

Trapped. A rat in a maze, a tiger in a cage, every cliché he could think of—he was trapped. With the loss of the waning daylight, Shawn was barely able to see his hand in front of his face, however he had been able to deduce that the only way out of the room was the heavy wooden door on the far side of the room-a truly handle-less door that, though it was neither latched or dead-bolted from the outside, was just as effective at keeping him there because the door swung inward. Additionally, there were no accessible windows in the room: the two that had provided the meager light from earlier were too small and high up on the walls.

The fact that he was neither restrained nor gagged told him that his captors hadn't been exaggerating when they claimed they were in the middle of nowhere and that it would be useless to attempt to attract attention...not that Shawn had any desire to yell for help with his splitting headache.

"Never thought I would ever actually be thankful for the dark," Shawn muttered to himself as he cradled his head in his right hand. While never having an actual fear of the dark, his distaste for it ranked right up there with pointy objects, raccoons and Patrick Dempsey. Laughing humorlessly, he searched his recollection to piece together the few clues he had in an attempt to figure out exactly where he was.

After several moments of concentration, he managed to sort through the fog to remember arriving home and knowing the moment he walked through the door that something was off. The ensuing struggle with his assailant and Shawn hoping that he had gotten away, sharp pain and then...nothing...not until waking up in some remote cabin with the headache from hell. Though...something about the picture he was painting seemed incomplete somehow, like Shawn was only seeing a portion of the scene, instead of its entirety. Having no idea what discrepancy his subconscious had uncovered, Shawn still began his search feeling a lot like he was looking for a needle, in an entire field of haystacks, without knowing with which haystack to begin.

After what felt like an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a half hour, and an even fiercer headache later, Shawn was no closer to solving the mystery of what he was missing. He was even beginning to wonder if the two recent blows to the head weren't just wreaking havoc with his usually flawless memory. But, try as he might to shake the feeling, he just knew there was still something his brain was nagging at him to remember.

"There has to be some detail of the ambush in the apartment that I'm missing," Shawn insisted before he very deliberately cleared his mind, took a calming breath and closed his eyes once again. Though who could really be sure if they were actually closed since the room was pitch black, but he placed his pointer fingers on his temples and just allowed his mind to drift...and that is when it hit him: bursting through the back door, just as he was turning to finish his escape down the alley, a flash of color on the sleeve of the leather clad man in the hallway. Breathing deeply while he worked on recalling the patch on the African man's sleeve, he knew that he'd seen it somewhere before. More specifically he'd seen that exact jacket before, he just wasn't able to recall the exact circumstances without further prompting to his memory.

Since it wasn't as though he had somewhere else to be as long as he was trapped in the room, Shawn decided his time might be best spent searching his memory frame by frame to ascertain where he'd seen the patch before. Then he could devote his waning energy on escaping the nightmare he had found himself in. I really have to stop getting myself into these situations...

A rather unique design, it was round and sporting a royal blue border, white background and an artistic rendition of a man's face, outlined in black and sporting comically large eyeglasses. Something that distinct shouldn't be too difficult to recall if he concentrated...though it was easier said than done with his pounding head.

It was almost thirty minutes and several failed attempts later before Shawn finally remembered where he'd seen that jacket before, though it was in one of the last memories he was expecting. It had been as he was sliding past the diner on the day of the hit and run...there, on the right shoulder of the man's leather jacket was the same patch Shawn had caught a glimpse of on stocky assailant. Instead of finding answers, finally being able to place the patch and the jacket it was attached to only generated more questions. Why would someone he had laid eyes on once break into not only his office but also his apartment then lay in wait to assault and kidnap him? But, considering the fact that Aurora had tried to run him over with a car for simply being him, he wasn't sure why this new scenario should be so surprising.

The sound of approaching footsteps shook Shawn out of his reverie, stopping outside the door. They're back, he thought with apprehension, And I am no closer to knowing what to do to get out of this mess...If there was one thing his father had drilled into him when he was growing up, it was how to analyze a dangerous situation and figure out a way to survive. Against all odds. This was no different, Shawn silently reasoned, coming up with and discarding half a dozen half formed plans, there has to be something in this room that I can use as a weapon.

The door shifted slightly and Shawn was finally able to make out the voices of his captors on the other side.

"I ain't leaving you here with him, you still haven't cooled down enough," came the voice that Shawn identified as Rind, who he was quickly associating as being the more level headed of the two.

"I won't hurt him...much," the bone chilling reply drifted through the door. "...At least, not till you get back."

I need to get my ass out of this fiasco now, Shawn thought, body tense and senses on full alert

"Which is why I am taking you with me. Don't argue, man," Rind continued, "He's not going anywhere, the door's shut. Besides, we need to dump this vehicle and get a different one for when the deed's done."

"Hurry up then, man, 'cause I'm ready to do this."

"Yer just wantin' to make him pay for your face..."

A moment later Shawn could no longer make out the men's words, but he didn't spring into action until he heard the sound of an engine revving. Feeling his way along, he studied the interior of the door and looking for any weakness he could exploit. Deciding prying it open would be the easiest solution, Shawn set about finding anything long and thin that he could use to help him in his escape.

Though there been little, if any, doubt in his mind that the situation was dire, the conversation he had just overhead erased any vestiges of hope he had of walking out of this with a chilling finality. Which meant, if he wanted to be breathing tomorrow, it was up to Shawn to remove himself from this mess.

I don't care what I have to do, there is no way I am going to be here when they get back.

Juliet tossed the file she had just finished reviewing on top of the stack and rubbed a hand over her face. So far she had reviewed fourteen recent case files in hopes of finding a connection, any connection really, that might explain what happened to Shawn. Or even give them a viable lead as to who might want to harm him. At this rate, we're going to be here all night.

Glancing at her partner, seated at his desk as he reviewed his own mountain of files while ingesting large amounts of coffee, she asked, "Anything?"

Stretching his neck as he looked her way, Carlton shut the file and set it to the side, "Absolutely, nothing."

"Nope, there's nothing here," Henry supplied without being prompted, taking off his reading glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Could there be something in an older file?" Carlton wonder aloud as he leaned back in his chair. "Maybe someone who was just paroled and might be holding a grudge?"

Juliet shook her head, "Not that I am aware of, but I'll get Buzz to check the recent parole records. Buzz!" She called across the bullpen to the tall officer who had volunteered to stay and help, as he talked to someone on the phone. Nodding, he ended the call and made his way over to the detective's desk.

"What's up?" The rookie asked energetically, despite having been there as long as either one of the detectives.

"Can you please find out if anyone has checked the recent parole records? Maybe there is something there that we missed." Juliet asked as she sorted through the dwindling stack of files she had yet to review, wishing something would jump out at her.

"Sure thing Detective," Buzz responded, turning to go. Before he had taken more than a few steps Juliet called out again, voice hopeful.

"Oh, and Buzz, any idea if the lab has had a chance to type the blood we found?"

"Not yet," he answered apologetically, "But I will check when I finish with the parole records." Then he quickly strode off.

Glancing at his watch, Henry asked Juliet, "Any idea when Gus is supposed to get here?"

"When I talked to him, he said five hours," she replied, glancing at the clock on her computer screen. "That was about 8:30 and it's just after one now. So, anytime, really."

As if on cue, the frazzled pharmaceutical representative barreled into the station, making a beeline for Juliet's desk. Taking off his extremely rumpled suit jacket, Gus demanded, "OK, who's going to fill me in on what happened?"

"Spencer is missing," Carlton answered simply. "Do you have any idea if there were any private cases he was working, Guster?"

Shaking his head, Gus answered, "Not recently. The day before I left for my conference, Shawn asked me to meet him here. He was trying to see if the chief had anything for him. When I spoke to you earlier, Juliet, you told me he was working on some hit and runs...and that you had arrested a suspect today. There's no telling if he took on any private cases this week, though."

Standing up from his desk and putting on his jacket, Henry approached his son's best friend. "Let's go find out, Gus." Not waiting to see if the younger man followed, he headed toward the entrance.

"I'm going to go with him, give me a call at the Psych office if you guys find out anything, OK?" Gus told the two detectives before following the older man outside. Once out of sight, Carlton was about to persuade Juliet to take a nap in the overtime room when Buzz hurried back over.

"Detectives," the tall officer greeted in a rush.

"What is it, McNab?" Lassiter demanded.

"Well, the recent parole list came up empty. There weren't any names that were associated with cases Shawn worked on," he said with an apologetic smile. "Also, I just got the results from the lab," he answered, holding the envelope out to them.

Juliet had snatched it out of Buzz's hand and torn it open before Carlton had even moved to take the paper. She let her eyes drift close for a second, before looking at her partner and announced, "The blood from the scene wasn't Shawn's. It was the wrong type." She exchanged a relieved smile with the tall officer, giving him a searching look when he didn't make a move to leave. "Was there something else?"

Snapping to attention, he answered. "Actually there was." Buzz took a moment to reference his notepad, reading, "There are two teenagers in interrogation A who came in to report seeing a suspicious car on Chapala Street, right around the time Shawn went missing."

Juliet, whose attention had been captured when Buzz mentioned the name of the street where she had found Shawn's iPhone, could tell from the look in the tall officer's eyes that there was more. "What is it, Buzz?"

"We ran the license, and the vehicle was reported stolen three days ago from an Angela M Powell."

Juliet exchanged a look with her partner, trying not to get her hopes up, but wondering if they might have finally gotten a break. "Ready to go talk to these teenagers?"

"Absolutely," he declared, before something occurred to him. Now that they had a possible connection, there was a phone call that had to be made. "McNab," the head detective called before the young officer could walk away.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Call the Chief."

Reviews are like watching my accident prone self trying to do my job on any given day, absolutely hilarious as long as you're not in my shoes…