The dark blue LTD slid to a stop behind one of the half-dozen black-and-whites, almost all with their lights still flashing, that were now surrounding the garage; an empty ambulance, it's back doors open, was angled near the front door.

Captain Roy Devitt bailed out from behind the wheel and jogged urgently through the cruisers towards the building. Sergeant Dan Healey met him halfway and they both hurried back towards the door. "What the hell happened?" the captain spat out almost angrily, worry and confusion evident in his tone.

"We have no idea yet," Healey growled as he pulled the door open and they entered the still mostly dark garage.

After summoning help, Harris had managed to find the electrical box at the back of the building near the large garage doors; only the two lamps that had been working before came on, as did the fluorescents in the inner office. All the others had been disabled somehow. Flashlight beams were playing over the walls and floors in every corner of the cavernous space as the uniformed cops checked out every part of the huge empty building as best they could.

But it was the scene playing itself out in the glow of the two ceiling lamps that brought Devitt to an abrupt halt; Healey stopped beside him and shot the captain a commiserating look. Devitt swallowed heavily as he stared at the two medics kneeling over Mike, who was still lying, unmoving, on the cold concrete. "How bad is it?" Devitt managed to get out.

Healey shook his head. "I'm not sure. They've been working on him for awhile."

Devitt moved forward slowly. Diaz was still kneeling at Mike's side, now holding a thick dressing against the left side of the lieutenant's now bare but blood-covered chest. He was staring at the medics, who were on their knees on the other side of the wounded detective. Sergeant Norm Haseejian was hovering nearby and he looked up when Devitt approached.

"He has broken ribs and a collapsed lung," the sergeant said softly, nodding towards Mike. "They had to put a tube in his chest."

With a shudder, Devitt nodded, his right hand involuntarily grabbing Haseejian's left forearm and squeezing. "Ah, let's, ah, let's let them do what they have to do." Reluctantly taking a step away and pulling the sergeant with him, he moved them around the waiting gurney towards the other sight that tightened the knot in his belly. "Do you know who she is?" he asked softly.

Haseejian's eyes slid from the body of the young Chinese woman in the chair to the floor and he nodded softly. "Yeah… yeah, we do…" he answered reluctantly. "She's Steve's girlfriend…"

# # # # #

The shell-shocked Homicide inspector felt the muscles in his jaw tighten; he did remember his right hand stinging before his forearms went numb from being pinned behind his back for so long. And suddenly it felt like the earth was opening up and he was falling into a black tunnel of hopelessness and grief.

Nicole was staring at him with a slight but smug smile. "Oh, ah, and before you ask, I left the knife in the garage - I'm sure your friends will find it without too much trouble - and your fingerprints are all over it." She chuckled evilly. "You're pretty cooperative when you're unconscious." She held her hands up and wiggled her fingers. "You gotta love these latex gloves, you really do!"

She turned back to the steering wheel and he felt the car shift into Drive and they started to move again. She drove in silence but he could see her head bobbing back and forth, as if she was grooving to a tune only she could hear. He felt like he was staring up from the bottom of a very deep well, one that he wasn't sure he wanted to climb out of anymore.

# # # # #

Devitt, Healey and Haseejian watched as the back doors of the ambulance slammed shut and, its siren wailing, pulled away from the garage, heading north towards The City. The reassurances from the medics that their colleague was doing better than it appeared and that his chances of survival and recovery were very high did nothing to allay their worry.

"Is anybody going to call Jeannie?" Healey asked softly.

Devitt nodded. "Rudy knows what's going on. He's going to meet the ambulance at the hospital and decide then when and what to do. He'll call her when he thinks it's the right time."

Both sergeants nodded softly, their eyes still on the ambulance.

Watching the lights slowly disappear, Devitt took a deep breath. "Okay, let's get to work." As they turned back to the front door, he looked up and down the street and sighed. "Where the hell is Steve?" he wondered out loud and both sergeants nodded in consternation.

# # # # #

After several long minutes, the car slowed again, made a careful and laboured five-point turn, then came to a complete stop. He heard the engine shut off, the driver's door open and Nicole got out. She circled the car and opened the door at his feet. "Get out," she ordered, her voice flat and menacing and he did as he was told.

From what he could see, the sky starting to lighten to his right, they were in the middle of a forest. Tall trees lined the dirt road on both sides and he couldn't see any lights. It was chilly, and he could see his breath; he knew they were at a higher elevation than when they had crossed the bridge into Marin County but he had no idea where they were.

He was almost too numb, both physically and emotionally, to move so she grabbed his upper arm and turned him towards the car. He didn't resist. He could feel her pushing him slightly and realized she was undoing whatever was tying his elbows together. Finished, she stuck her hand in front of his face; there was a strip of white cotton in her hand.

"Just in case you think you can convince everybody I kept you tied up and helpless during all this - which is what I did, of course," she snorted coldly, "you've been tied up with cotton - it doesn't leave the kind of marks you think it would." She waved it around. "It's pretty strong stuff, and you can get it anywhere, so…?"

He still had no feeling in his forearms and hands, which were still bound together, but the strain on his shoulders began to ease very slowly. He grabbed him by the upper arm again and pulled him away from the car towards the side of the road then faced him.

"So, ah, my dear…" she began coldly, "this is where you and I part company. And, just in case you were wondering, I'm taking the car." She laughed giddily. "It's been a pleasure, it really has. Your… cooperation has been spectacular. And I thank you for that." She paused, obviously hoping for a response that didn't come.

"Okay… so, ah, I guess you're on your own now. Hmmm, let me think…?" She paused again and put her right index finger against her chin. "Well, you could try to find your way back to San Francisco and plead your case… Good luck with that!" she snorted with a laugh. "Or maybe you could just… I don't know… disappear in the wind and hope they don't catch you…?" She pretended to think again. "No, that doesn't sound like you, does it?" She shrugged. "Well, whatever you decide, good luck. Oh, and don't worry, as soon as the sun comes up, and that's pretty soon from the looks of it," she snapped a quick glance in the direction of the brightening sky, "it's gonna warm right up so you're not going to freeze to death."

She leaned forward quickly and, before he could react, kissed him on the cheek then dashed for the car, slipped in behind the wheel and drove off before he could react.

His numb hands still tied together behind his back, he watched the red taillights disappear around a bend in the road. He didn't know how long he kept staring at the now empty road, trying not to think, before he shook himself out of his reverie. She was right; he had to decide what to do.

But he just couldn't do it at the moment. Very slowly he sunk to the dirt, sitting cross-legged on the dusty ground. Any fight he had left was now completely gone and all he could feel was a deep abyss of grief and despair. For the moment, at least, he was a broken man.

# # # # #

"Rudy, what the hell is going on?!"

Captain Olsen looked up see Chief of Detectives John Conden striding across the waiting room towards him. He raised his hands in a calming gesture, his small eyes darting around the half-full waiting room, its occupants glaring at the loud large man who was causing the disturbance. He knew the Chief didn't like to be disturbed at home, especially in the wee small hours of the morning, but when it involved the shooting of one of his detectives his involvement was required.

"I get a call telling me a detective has been shot and he's been taken here but nothing else. What's going on?" Conden towered over the other man, who was trying to pull the Chief into a corner so no one could eavesdrop.

"It's Mike Stone. And his partner's girlfriend was murdered. It happened in an abandoned garage down in Hunter's Point."

"Murdered? What the hell? Where's Keller?" Conden asked as he glanced around the waiting room, trying to find the inspector he knew would be worried sick about his wounded partner.

"That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question," Olsen said almost under his breath. "We can't find him. We've got an APB out on him and the unmarked he was driving."

Conden frowned. "You think he had something to do with this?"

Olsen bobbled his head sharply. "Of course not. We have no idea what went on right right now. But we want to find him."

The Chief nodded slowly. "How, ah, how bad is it? Mike, I mean."

The captain shrugged. "I don't know, nobody's talked to me recently. I know he took a bullet to the chest but I've been told it's not serious. But he also has broken ribs and a punctured lung."

Conden's head beginning to bob, he rubbed his fingers over his eyes, exhaling loudly. "He has a daughter, right? Has she been told?"

"She's in Tucson at the university. I have a friend in the police department there. I want to wait till I find out how Mike is doing, then I'll have my friend track her down and tell her and get her on a plane home."

"That sounds like a good plan." Conden took a deep breath. "Okay, okay… so, ah, tell me what you know so far."

# # # # #

The sun was clearing the horizon, though it was still behind the trees, when he finally raised his head and took a look around. The feeling had started to come back to his forearms; he hadn't even bothered to try to undo his wrists yet. His fingers had begun to tingle and, as painful as it was, it was a relief to know he was going to finally be able to use them again.

When he could start to flex his fingers, he realized he could feel a piece of the cloth that seemed to be dangling loosely. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he finally trapped the cotton between his right thumb and forefinger and pulled. It gave a little. Surprised, he got another grip and pulled again. Once again the cotton seemed to release a little more and, several long seconds and a few more tugs later, he felt the cloth binding his wrists pull free.

He let his hands drop into his lap, fighting the pain as more feeling started to come back. He wasn't sure how long he sat there before he covered his face with his hands and began to cry.