Seized
Summary: Don Flack is first to a murder scene and awaits the NYPD to join him. But as he waits, someone grabs him.
A/N: God bless witnesses!

"Victim's name was Michael Stewart, nineteen, five feet nine inches." Sheldon looked up from the body laying on the ground at Mac, who stood with a hand over his mouth. They were in front of the NYPD 27th division. On the ground laid the man he and Danny had spoken to only an hour ago. "COD was a gunshot wound to the chest. Through and through. Punctured a lung; he bled to death."

"Different than our first man."

"Nothing is missing; he still has his wallet and money. It wasn't a robbery."

Mac, using his hands as he spoke, said, "He knew something. Something that got him killed."

Suddenly, his phone began to ring. Mac took it from his belt loop and looked at the name; it was Stella. He answered, saying 'Taylor' like always.

"Mac, we're at that address that Michael guy gave us. It's nothing. Just some old construction site. Totally abandoned."

Mac sighed, pursing his lips.

Stella continued, "Maybe you should pull Michael in for questioning."

"Only if he escapes the morgue."

"What do you mean?"

"Michael is laying right here, gunshot wound to the chest."

On the other end of the line, Stella gave a deep, aggravated sigh. "Someone doesn't want him talking."

"That's what I said."

"Okay then. I'll talk to you when we get back."

"Yeah," Mac agreed, then hung up. Sheldon stood now, his fists resting on his hips. Mac looked at him tiredly, pursing his lips and raising his brows. His face read mixed emotions, mostly worry. Sheldon caught the worried look and extended his hand, patting his supervisor on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, Mac. We'll find Flack soon."

"I'm more worried about what kind of state we'll find him in," sighed Mac, turning and walking into the station.

----------

Just as Don began to free his ankles from the tape, the door was kicked in and Dave looked down at him. He saw the knife and that his ands were free. His jaw tightened and eyebrows furrowed. "Well, well, piggy. Where'd you pull that from?" Don said nothing, only looked up at him. Dave advanced towards him, glaring. Something lit in the cop, something he hadn't felt in the longest time. For a moment they only looked at each other, one glaring, one just staring. "Don't you know how to answer a question?"

"My shoe. Surprised someone as bright at you didn't catch it…"

The man gave a false laugh, stepping so his feet were straddling Don's hips. Slowly he bent down, bringing their faces closer. Dave was glaring again. Abruptly his fist came across Don's cheek, knocking him back to the floor, a place Dave liked his victims, Don assumed. But this time, he could fight back. Dave went to kick him; Don grabbed his foot and twisted it, sending him to the floor. The man gasped, the air knocked right out of him. Grinning, Don began to crawl away, going to the knife he had dropped. On the other hand, Dave cursed, grabbing Don's feet and pulling him back. Dave flipped the cop onto his back, then held his hands out to the sides.

"Smart pig!" he raved, placing his knees on the inside of Don's elbows. Furiously, Don squirmed beneath the younger man's hold, feeling suddenly weak and helpless. Dave was enjoying this, beaming, his lips curling back and showing his pointy, animal teeth. "You just couldn't stay away, could you?" he asked. "The boys in blue can smell blood from miles away. I bet a young cop like you could benefit from… being first to a scene." Dave paused, patting Don's cheek. "Right now you probably wish you waited for your… team… before jumping in."

He grasped Don's chin in his hand, turning his head to the side, as if examining the cop. Don gave no protest; he wasn't in the position to protest. "You're too appealing not to have someone at home. You got someone, piggy?" Dave smiled. "Too cute for a girl. Must be gay."

Don was glaring, gritting his teeth together.

"What's his name?" Dave asked, winking.

"I'm not gay," he spat.

"Aw, so you're alone?" He ran his forefinger across Don's cheek. "No one will miss the pig."

Don was breathing shallow breaths. The talk was beginning to get to him, making him insecure. His heart pounded in his chest and he glowered up at the man sitting on his chest. What if no one would miss him at all, like he said? Mac tried once to find him, but that was it. No one else was looking; why bother looking for a liability? Don could feel the tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't cry here, faggot." Dave threw Don's head against the floor. "I'd say to go cry to someone who cares, but I don't think anyone does." He pulled Don's head up by his hair with one hand and began to striking his jaw with a closed fist. As he hit, Dave slowly got off of the cop, then tossed Don to the floor again. "Stay here," he warned. The cop laid still on the floor, huffing for air. Dave left the room, but returned in moments with the pair of handcuffs he took from Don in the first place.

Don watched silently; he was spun onto his side and the cuffs were placed on his wrists. "Let's see you cut your way out of these," Dave raved, laughing. But as he situated the cuffs on Don's wrists, he noticed the prick that was made when Don cut the tape off in the first place. He grinned, grabbing the knife and putting it into the cop's hands.

"Just in case you start to feel suicidal." Pause. "Well, whenever you're ready to end life." He winked, releasing Don and giving a kick in his side for good measure.

He left, leaving Don alone once more. "I new form of torture," Don mused softly, resting his head on the bed.

----------

Danny paced in Mac's office, muttering ideas and plans to find Don. Mac sat back, watching as the blond man panicked. They both knew that time was growing short and that the longer it takes them to find him, the less chance that they'll find him breathing. Danny was getting irritated, voice getting louder and rougher. Mac watched, almost helplessly for once; he had no clue where to begin. Danny turned to Mac. "Is there anything we can do?" he asked softly. "Anywhere we forgot to look? Any evidence we didn't examine? Anything?" He was stammering, but his words were clear.

Mac tapped his fingers on his temple as he looked up at Danny. "I don't think so… Carlos had no acquaintances; his parents died, he had no siblings. Only his buyers spoke with him and even that was scarce."

"How many buyers have you spoken to?"

"Well, Michael was shot, so we can't talk to him anymore. Other than him, we spoke to anyone else who would pick up. Most of them did."

Danny brought over a chair and sat in front of Mac's desk. "You got a list?" he asked. Mac picked up a folder and opened it, looking in quickly. After a moment of rifling, he took out a piece of paper and handed it to Danny. Danny peered down at it.

"Two people," Mac said. "Dave and Seth."

"And you haven't gotten in contact with these two?"

"They never picked up, there's no extra contact information programmed into Carlos' phone…"

Danny pursed his lips for a split second. "Call them on your phone?" Mac nodded at Danny, who tapped his finger on the desk. "I'll try mine."

He took out his phone and flipped it open. He chose Dave since it was the first on the list. After three rings, he got an automated voicemail. Danny sneered and ended the line. Then, he dialed the one for Seth and waited. This time, he got through.

"Hello?" The voice was young. Danny grinned at Mac, who rose his brows and leaned slightly over. He put it on speaker phone.

"Is this Seth?"

"Yeah. Who is this?"

"Yes, this is Detective Messer; I'm calling to ask about your relationship with Carlos Hernandez…"

There was a pause, the boy hadn't hug up; Danny could hear his breathing. "You've got the wrong number…" And the line cut off.

Both of the men sighed as Danny closed his phone. "Closer," Mac said. "There wouldn't have been a pause… if he really didn't know what we were talking about."

"I know." He offered a toothy grin. "I can feel it, Mac. We just about got him."

Stella knocked on the door, then walked in. She was smiling, hands placed on her hips. Mac and Danny looked at her; she licked her lips and jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "We got a witness."

There was a woman sitting in a chair in the hallway; she had her fingers laced together in her lap and her dark hair fell in front of her eyes. Danny approached her, fists in his pockets. Stella was following him closely behind. "Ms. Robinson, I'm Detective Messer, this is Detective Bonasera. We hear you have a little information for us about Carlos Hernandez."

The woman looked up; she was in her forties, the age showing around her eyes and mouth. But she gave a smile and stood up. "Yes, I do."

"Mind if we step into this room?" Stella asked, opening a door. The woman nodded, grabbing her purse, and walked in. Danny followed her; Stella closed the door behind her.

The woman sat at the table and placed her purse in her lap. Danny and Stella took seats across from her. Stella smiled warmly at her. "Could you tell us what you know, Ms. Robinson?"

"My name is Kareen." She smiled. "I have work near where you found the body. I didn't know him or anything like that. But I was walking to my office and glanced down the alleyway. There was one boy, probably in his twenties, yelling at the man you call Carlos. He was roughing Carlos up a little, pushing him against the wall and yelling in his face." She drummed her fingers on the table in front of her. "Once the weapons were drawn, I got myself out of there."

"Weapons?" Danny asked.

Kareen twirled her finger, and her face searched for the right words. "You know for community service how some people have to pick up trash? You see it in the movies all the time."

"Yes."

"That… trash poker thing. Long, brown handle and a sharp point at the end. The man had the poker the whole time, and he was still dressed in a bright, yellow vest."

"Is there anything else you remember about this man?" pressed Danny.

"Well, he was about the same height as Carlos. Slightly better build, good looking, bright hair."

Stella remembered what Sid said the murder weapon had to be something with 'a long, sharp aluminum tip'. She smiled up at the woman. "Thank you, Kareen."

Kareen smiled, got to her feet and left. Stella and Danny met eyes. After a moment, Stella also stood and looked down at Danny. "Go tell Lindsay to get me a list of all men assigned community service for drug use. Tell her to pick out all the men with light hair, between five feet seven and six feet two."

Danny grinned. "Of course. Happily."