A/N: Get those thinking caps on everyone! I've got a riddle for you.
It had been a long day for Lindsay, having worked the morning shift, and she was grateful to be home. The night was hers alone, as Danny wouldn't be home until later.
Flickering the lights, she took off her shoes and coat, content in spending the evening in bed watching a movie. Her hand was half-way to the hook when she froze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow slither across the floor. Chiding herself for leaving her gun at work, she remained in place, hoping to catch another glimpse of the intruder.
Silence rendered in the apartment, and Lindsay strained her hearing. Swift as a flash, the figure was behind her, and she whirled around to face them. It was an adult male, slightly older than her, with bleach-blonde hair and riveting blue eyes. They shone evilly as she struggled within his grasp. Lindsay was strong, but her attacker was stronger.
"You're coming with me, young missy." He hissed in her face.
Lindsay snarled viciously, oblivious to the identity of the stranger. "Try an' get me then, scum!" She lashed out, and the opportunity presented itself for the intruder. His forehead connected with hers, and blackness engulfed her every sense. Picking up her limp body, Pratt stalked out of the apartment, happy that one half of his plan had been carried out.
---
Reed was glad to be back at his adoptive parents' home. The argument with Mac still haunted him, and he was not ready to face his step-father just yet. He needed to sort things out before he could move on. Despite his current feelings towards the elder, Reed wanted nothing more than to patch things up with him. He had already lost two loved ones; even though Mac was not his biological father, he was the only connection he had to Claire, the mother he never knew.
His parents out for the night, Reed lay casually on the couch, scrolling through channels to see what was on. Before he could even blink, a hand slapped over his mouth and he felt a sharp pain on the side of his neck. His eyelids fluttered shut, and his head lolled to one side. The intruder lifted him up and carried him out the front door into an awaiting van.
---
"Lindsay? I'm home."
Danny pushed the door open gently as to not wake her. He was shocked when the apartment was almost pitch black save for some moonlight that filtered through the windows. Lindsay usually kept on a light or two when Danny caught the late shift.
He sniffed the air and instinctively knew something was amiss. He flicked on the main light and allowed his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. Peering around the room, he caught sight of a note resting on the front table. Danny swallowed the huge lump in his throat as he read the mysterious piece of paper.
You cannot run forever, Detective. Nothing will stop me in my revenge. I have her now. If you want her back, you'll have to get through me first.
Despite no signature, Danny knew who it was. The paper scrunched under the intensity of his clenched hand, and his blood thickened at the very thought of Lindsay being in the same room – breathing the same air – as the murderous Pratt.
"Son of a bitch!"
A ringing noise suddenly caught his attention. Thinking it was Lindsay, he snatched it up swiftly, struggling to control his heavy breathing.
"Montana? Are you alright? Where are you?"
His shoulders slumped with disappointment as Mac spoke. "Danny, it's me. We've got a problem."
"Damn right we've got a problem. Lindsay is gone."
"So is Reed."
"What?" Danny could hardly believe what he was hearing. Pratt.
"His adoptive father just called. Said Reed didn't answer his cell. He found something interesting that was left behind, most likely from the perp."
Danny eyed the balled-up paper, which was now lying forgotten near his feet. "I've got a note here. It's Pratt."
"I know," Mac's voice sounded distant. "There was a note left at Reed's house as well. Come back to the lab. We've got to figure out what this means."
---
Lindsay groggily opened her eyes, moaning as pain returned full-fledged to her head. She tried moving her hands, but they – along with her ankles - were shackled cruelly. The damp air of wherever she was stung her nostrils. Someone shifted beside her, and she gazed down at the form of Reed, who was starting to come around.
"Are you alright?" she whispered.
Reed groaned as he sat up. Like Lindsay, he was bound by chains. "Yeah, but I have a splitting headache. Who are you?"
"Detective Lindsay Monroe."
"Reed Garrett."
Lindsay was taken aback. "You're Mac's step-son."
"That's me."
"Listen. I know you don't know me, but I'll help you get out of here. I promise."
Reed smiled half-heartedly. "Thanks."
It quickly faded as Lindsay was struck down by the butt of a gun. A short, burly male stood over her, smirking at the sight of blood flowing from the fresh wound. "No talkin'! Either of you move so much as a muscle, I'll kill you both."
The man doubled over and wrenched, peering up into the wicked eyes of Pratt, who had materialised from nowhere. Reed and Lindsay stared in horror as he kicked the strange man, yelling in a harsh voice.
"Idiot! You kill her, an' I'll slit your throat. They're my hostages, to do with as I please."
He ignored the beaten man and focused his piercing gaze on the two captives, smiling thinly. "Listen very carefully, you two. You're already in enough danger, so don't be stupid and start back-talking to me. You don't want to see me angry. Obey me and I might let you live."
Whirling around, he slithered off, chucking manically. Lindsay glared daggers at the man who had hit her. She was too furious to speak, but her eyes said it all. The coward scurried up off the floor and ran off, terrified to meet the burning glare of the young woman.
---
Door sealed tight, the detectives huddled in Mac's quarters, scratching their heads at the puzzling riddle. Mac recited it again, still trying to make sense of what it meant.
My first is in water and also in war,
My second in ambush, battle and soar.
My third and fourth are in present and preach,
Five of line three, and at the start of reach.
My last make up but a single word,
Eight, fifteen, twenty-one, nineteen, five.
Mac's eyes became hard. "No one is leaving here until we answer this. Lindsay and Reed are in serious trouble; this riddle may be the only clue that leads us to their whereabouts…and D.J. Pratt."
A/N: Do you know the answer? The riddle belongs to Mr. Brian Jacques, author of the Redwall series. The words are mine, the idea is his. Maybe it is a bit OOC for Pratt, but I thought it would be really interesting to have this in here.