The Thrill of the Chase

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction, written, and hopefully read, strictly for enjoyment. The main characters of Mark, Steve, Amanda, and Jesse, as well as Ron Wagner and any others that you recognise are from the series Diagnosis Murder, and as such are the property of CBS/Viacom. Anyone that is new belongs to me.

As always there are people to thank when a story is written. I have a wonderful crew of three beta readers, who all find different things to mention or suggest. Without them my stories wouldn't be so much fun to write. This time however, one lady in particular persuaded me to give Rae a rest for a while, and this story is the result. P. I thank you very much; I had a ball writing this, it was just what I needed.

Chapter One

The stone was cold against his skin, and however hard he tried he couldn't move away from it. The deep ache in his muscles had a lot to do with the fact that he was shackled hand and foot and stretched out almost like a letter X. Somewhere there was a draft coming in but as there was no light in the cellar, or dungeon, or wherever it was he was being held he didn't know if it was from a door or a gap in the walls. Normally he would consider both possibilities as something to aim for so that he could escape, but he knew that was impossible.

His feet were cold against the floor and he was thankful that he still had jeans on; at least a part of him was free from the contact with the stone that the entire room seemed to be made of.

There was a sudden noise as a door creaked open and he was immediately flooded with light, probably from a sunny California day. He turned his head away quickly, his eyes protesting at the sudden intrusion. He wasn't allowed to do even that though as a hand grabbed his chin and roughly returned his head to its original position.

"Drink." The one word was a command, not a question and although he was desperately thirsty he tried to refuse.

"No, no, I won't." His voice came out as a croak and he swallowed to try to lubricate his throat.

"Oh, I would, darling, who knows how long it will be before I decide to come back and let you have another little sip." She put the container back to his lips, but this time she pinched his nose hard, forcing him to open his mouth and as he did so he felt the liquid pour down his throat, causing him to gag and choke.

"Careful, I need you alive a little longer, my darling, otherwise how can I kill your father?"

"What?" The word was forced out between paroxysms of coughing. "No!"

"Oh yes, and the beauty of it is that he will have no idea that he is in danger, because he has no idea who I am."

That would make two of them, because even now he could see her, he still couldn't identify her. She ran a long fingernail across his chest, pressing just hard enough for it to cause discomfort and he willed himself not to react.

"Oh a strong man are we?" Suddenly she moved the glass in her hand and threw the remaining liquid into his face; he gasped and jerked back hitting his head hard on the wall behind him.

"Arghh." He couldn't help but cry out and was furious with himself for doing so.

"That's better; I do like a reaction from those that I keep here." Now she was running her hands across his bare chest in a far gentler and more provocative manner, again he tried to look away, but this time he was caught, not by her hand but her lips, as she clamped down on his own and kissed him hard.

. . . . . . . . . .

"All I'm saying is that even if he goes away for just a couple of days he usually calls, if only to make sure I'm not selling too many salads." Jesse pouted, caught sight of himself in the side of the metallic serviette dispenser, and forced a smile onto his face.

"Jess, he is a forty-five year old man, I will not call him to make sure he is ok. If you want to then that's your business." Mark picked up his coffee and began drinking it, hoping by doing so he would close the discussion.

Jesse looked at his friend and mentor and, realising that he would be inviting trouble if he carried on with the conversation, started muttering to himself instead as he wiped the counter down now that the lunch rush was over. "I still think it's strange. I didn't even know he was going; he just left a message at the nurses' station, took a long weekend's worth of vacation time, and didn't tell me. I might have wanted to go with him but did he ask, oh no, not him, I wouldn't even have taken light beer."

"Jesse, if it will stop you worrying I will send him a text when I get home from the hospital tonight. He's due back tomorrow so I really don't know why you're bothering. Unless you are serving too much salad!"

. . . . . . . . . .

He had lost all track of time after his captor left him. She hadn't said a word after she had finally released him from her hard and brutal kiss, but her hands had once again trailed across his chest and then she had gently massaged his muscles where they were taut from the position she held him in. He didn't know if he had any chance of breaking free from his chains but he had been trying on and off ever since she had left, although in the dark it was somehow far harder than it would be if he could at least turn his head and see what he was doing.

The feeling of something suddenly running across his feet sent his emotions into a terrified turmoil and he had to clamp his jaw tightly shut not to cry out. He could hear it now, the skittering sound of little claws on the stone, and his heart pounded in his chest as he was suddenly bathed in sweat. He wasn't squeamish but he knew that his efforts to rid himself of his manacles had caused both his wrists and ankles to bleed. Any creature scuttling around in the darkness would be drawn to him by the smell of the blood and he didn't even want to think about what could happen after that.

Once again, before the rodent could return, the door opened and the light caused a sudden cacophony of sound as more than one or two, hopefully small, creatures headed for the darkness. Despite his loathing for this woman he was grateful for her unintentional assistance, and again he was furious with himself for showing a weakness.

"I think it is time to prepare for your father's visit. And you are looking far too strong, even tied the way you are he won't be fearful for your health and that can't be. He has to suffer as we suffered. He has to understand what it's like."

"What?" He didn't want to talk to her, to make any conversation at all, but he had to know, had to be aware of what was being planned, that way maybe he would be able to cry out or do something to save his father … and Jesse, if his dad came then his best friend wouldn't be far behind. He couldn't be responsible for hurting two of those he held most dear.

He felt the warm softness of a hand against the skin of his left foot as the cuff was removed and then the metal encasing his wrists were also released. Despite his best efforts he couldn't stop himself from falling, his legs suddenly weak underneath him as they took his weight again.

"Oh get up!" He felt a shoe kick out at him, making contact with his ribs and he grunted as the air was forced out of his lungs. Then he was staring up at the ceiling as his hair was grabbed and his head forced back. "I said get up." She yanked back on the handful of his soft but thick mane and another yell of pain was forced from him.

"Who … who are you?"

"I am your jailor. That is all you need to know. Now, do I have to insist that you get up?" She moved her foot back as if to kick him again, so he carefully placed the palms of his hands on the floor and pushed upwards, and then he stood before her, making eye contact hoping to show that, however much it may appear to the contrary, he was not afraid of her.

"Such a fine specimen, so handsome and strong, and such a shame." She ran her flat palm down his chest and he cried out in pain as a blade hidden between her fingers split the skin with no warning.

"It has to be done, my darling, don't you understand that? I will have retribution, your father was responsible for the death of the one who meant the most to me, and so it is only fitting that I do the same for him." Again the palm travelled across his chest and again the skin split and bled as he yelled in agony.

"Nothing to say? Is cry out all you can do? Maybe I should free your other foot and set the dogs on you. You would give a good scent, they would enjoy the chase." She put two fingers in between her beautiful deep red lips and whistled a single shrill note. For a minute or two nothing happened but then the door was nosed open and a large ponderous looking bloodhound made his way into the room and sat at the feet of his mistress.

"This is Diminuto, or Dimi for short. Dimi, scent." The dog lumbered up to him, and again he felt the cold of the stone as it told him that even without the chains he had nowhere to run.

The dog gave a short bark and then, launching itself, placed two front paws on his shoulders and snuffled around his neck and upper chest leaving a trail of drool as he did so.

"He has your scent, Lieutenant, he is the leader of my pack, he won't hurt you, but he will lead those who have no such compunction. The chase is all that Dimi cares about, well that and a good scratch behind the ear. Dimi, leave." The dog did as it was bid, dropped to the floor, let out a submissive whine and then padded off in the direction it had come from just a few moments earlier.

It was all he could do to keep himself upright, to not collapse out of pure terror. The large dog didn't scare him any longer, he had known, as soon as it landed on him, that it was a gentle giant, but he also knew of many breeds of dog who weren't and he had no doubt that some, if not all of them, would be in the pack his captor had mentioned.

"Of course you could save yourself all this agony if you would only call your father. Or even better tell me the password for your cell phone so that I can do it myself. He could be here in little more than an hour and you would be free to go." She moved right up close to him, her scent filling his nostrils and her beauty shutting out all other things in his eye line.

"No, never. Arghh." Again he had to call out as she slapped him hard across the face and he was thankful that the blade seemed to be in her other hand.

"I can destroy you. Cut you up into little pieces and send them to that precious father of yours. Is that what you want? For the both of you to be dead? How pathetic you are!" This time the fist that slammed into his stomach did contain the blade and he collapsed to the floor in agony as she pulled it from his body and left the room once more.

. . . . . . . . . .

Although he hadn't admitted it to Jesse, Mark was concerned that Steve hadn't made contact. It was true that he was a fully consenting adult and he certainly had no reason to keep in touch, except that in the past he had always done so.

Finally, not wanting to let his worry show to anyone, Mark had retired to his office and put another call through to Steve's cell phone. All he got was Steve's voice mail, it was all he had been getting for two days and again he left a short message and rang off. For a while he sat and thought but in the end, anxiety getting the better of him, he dialled the familiar number of the station and asked for Detective Banks.

"Hi, Cheryl? It's Mark Sloan. Look, I'm sorry to bother you, and I know I'm probably being a silly old man, but do you know if Steve took his cell phone with him on his weekend trip?"

Ten minutes later both Jesse Travis and Amanda Bentley were in Mark's office and they were waiting for Cheryl to join them. Amanda had put a call through to Ron Wagner and he, unwilling to assign the case to anyone else, had told her he would arrive in Los Angeles by the following morning.

"What exactly did Cheryl say, Mark?" Amanda had finally got the older man to sit down in one of the chairs in his cluttered office. He was white and she could see that his hands were shaking, but whether it was from fear or fury she wasn't sure.

"That Steve didn't have vacation booked. He wasn't away on any planned leave but his girlfriend had called in for him and said that he had a bad case of food poisoning and wouldn't be in for at least three or four days if not a little longer. Nobody, it seems, thought anything of it, reassigned his pressing cases for a short while and then let the squad room run without him. He's the senior detective! How could they do that?"

"We had no reason not to, Mark. He's a grown man, if he wants to take a sick day I guess there's nothing we can do about it. I didn't know he had a girlfriend so I figured maybe he wanted some time with a new lady." Cheryl appeared in the doorway her beautiful face creased with concern and anxiety.

"He doesn't have a girlfriend, not that I know about, Jess?" Mark looked over to his son's best friend and business partner. If he didn't know about a girlfriend either then it was obvious, to him at least, that there wasn't one.

"He's not said anything to me and he sure hasn't been acting as if he has a new woman in tow. But then again if he did have she's probably a psychopath or serial killer and he's probably tied up in a cellar somewhere."

"That isn't even funny, Jesse." Mark's tone warned him off and the doctor cast his eyes downwards.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Jesse turned away, kicking himself mentally for the words which, meant as a mood lightener, had just made things ten times worse. When would he ever learn?

. . . . . . . . . .

He didn't know when the two goons had come into his cell, but he did know when they had left. His now battered and broken body had finally been allowed to fall to the floor, pulling at his ankle, bruising it and causing even more pain when he hadn't thought it was possible.

Being a doctor's son had its ups and downs; one of the downs was that he knew what bits of him were fractured or damaged and what it meant. Oh not the proper names for them but he knew he had at least a couple of broken ribs, his shoulder was dislocated and he was sure he had at least one black eye and a couple of loose teeth.

He tried to get to his feet, to show anyone who came past that he was still strong, even though he felt anything but. For a moment he wanted his dad more than anything else in the entire world. To just hear his voice, to feel his arms around him, for a moment he wanted to be a kid again.

"Oh they did a good job, I was told they were the best, and as you had busted, I think you call it, both of them over the years they were happy to oblige. Now, smile for the camera." A flash exploded in front of his eyes and then he saw the butt of his own gun come down towards his temple and finally there was nothing.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"The first thing we need to do is get someone to check his apartment and look for his truck. I've put an APB out on him, but it's been two days, Mark, he could be anywhere." Cheryl didn't like being the bearer of bad news but in her job it was something she had gotten used to pretty quickly. "Have you been home since he went away?"

"Not a lot. I had a patient in the ICU last night that I wanted to monitor so I slept at the hospital. I got home late the day he went away and was back here early the next morning. I guess about six hours, something like that." Mark cursed inwardly; he had been so determined to let Steve live his own life that he hadn't even taken his mail down to his apartment but left it on the hall table so that his son would know he had stayed in his own half of the house.

"Good, that makes it easier for us." The new voice in the doorway surprised them all, and despite the seriousness of the situation Amanda found herself smiling broadly.

"Ron, I thought you would be here by tomorrow."

"That's what I said. I was already in LA, but as I'm not at liberty to tell you why I figured that I would keep my location to myself for just a little longer." The tall FBI agent came into the room, shook hands with Mark and took in the entire scene in one glance.

"So, Steve has gotten himself into trouble again, huh? Well, I'm sure between us we can sort it out." Ron had moved across to stand next to Amanda. He was concerned for his friend but one of the perks of working with the Sloans was that he got to spend time with Doctor Bentley.

"I hope so. Nobody has seen nor heard from him for almost three days. But we all believed what we were told and thought he was fine." Mark was thinking furiously as he spoke and he turned to Jesse. "Cheryl said that his girlfriend called the station, who left the message here?"

"I don't know, want me to go check?" Jesse had perched himself on the edge of Mark's desk but now he stood back up.

"Would you mind?"

"Of course not. I'll be back in five." The young man hurried out of the room, his white coat flying behind him.

"Ok, as soon as Travis returns I would suggest that we all adjourn to the beach house. That way, Mark, you can tell us if there is anything out of place or not as it should be and we can decide what we are going to do next." Ron seemed to have taken charge and for the time being all of them were happy to let him do so.

"Detective, do you have anyone at the station checking the release notices? Maybe someone he put away just got out."

Cheryl nodded her head. "The Captain said he would get on it as I left. I'll call and check."

"Amanda, get onto BBQ Bob's, find out if anything has been left there, for Mark or Jesse. Maybe a ransom note of some kind. If it's just a plain envelope they could be keeping it for when they're next in."

"I'm gonna arrange for a chopper to be put on standby. If he has been taken and we find him I want to be able to get there quickly." The room had turned into a command centre. All its occupants were doing something except Mark and he couldn't really focus on anything too technical right now. He watched as Cheryl spoke into her cell phone and then saw Amanda begin to talk. Ron had moved over into a more private corner but his words were coming across loud and clear as well.

Five minutes later they were just waiting for Jesse to return so that they could all head for the beach house. Mark had sat behind his desk, he didn't know why he was so worried, so far all they knew was that Steve's reasons for going away didn't tally. There was no reason for anyone to suspect foul play but they all did.

Suddenly the door to his office was pushed open so quickly that it went all the way back and slammed against the bookcase behind it.

"Mark … I …" Jesse's eyes were wide and he was breathing heavily. Amanda moved across towards him and took the piece of paper out of his shaking hands.

"Oh, my God." She in turn handed it to Ron who looked at it wordlessly before placing it on the desk in front of the older doctor and Mark knew instantly why he had been so worried.