All right, here things start to come to a head. I feel I may have overbuilt you guys up for Don's escape plan a bit, but then again, maybe not. Hope it doesn't disappoint. Let me know what you think!

Also, this chapter was revamped and revised a lot more than is average for me. Therefore, the probability of their being a lot of typos/errors is much greater, so I apologize in advance, but I'm pretty sure I caught them all. Maybe not, though.

Chapter 9

7:01 a.m.

What made a model employee with no criminal record wake up one day and decide to become a kidnapper and possibly a murderer?

Ralph Shore had lived in Los Angeles for almost three years. He'd been a security guard at a hospital; he was well-liked by all his coworkers and his boss. And yet he'd been walking around for ten years, harboring a terrible grudge against an FBI agent who'd shot his brother. Why now? That's what David couldn't figure out. Why not three years ago when he'd first moved to the same town as Don? Why not ten years ago when his brother died?

Something didn't add up. Something seriously didn't make sense. There had to have been some trigger. Ralph Shore didn't just wake up one morning a decade later and decide to avenge his brother's death. He knew where Don lived, he had a car waiting for them to switch into, he'd likely found himself a hideout—or a place to dump a body. A lot of planning had gone into this. David wondered how long ago Shore had started planning this.

Colby and Liz appeared from the elevator, exhaustion and defeat evident on their faces.

"Any luck?" David asked them, already knowing the answer.

Colby shook his head. "No one seems to know exactly where he'd go. Apparently he has a lot of favorite spots, but none of them seem like a good place to hide with a captive or hide a body."

David sighed. "Well, tell Charlie and them anyway. Maybe it'll factor into whatever it is they're doing somehow."

Colby nodded and left for the conference room. David watched him go.

"Miss this place?" Liz asked quietly.

"Yeah," David admitted with a small smile. "Lot of good people in this office."

"No Colby-ish best friends out there in D.C.?" Liz asked light-heartedly.

David laughed a little. "Nah. No Colby best friends. No Nikki to make fun of us. No Liz to be the voice of reason, no Charlie doing crazy math magic, and no Don keeping everybody in line. I really do miss it here sometimes."

Liz smiled at him. "Good to be back? Even just for a few days?"

David shook his head. "Not like this. It is nice, but not under these circumstances. It'll feel great if we can just find Don, you know?"

Liz nodded sadly. "It's hard to stay hopeful about this and still be realistic."

David nodded his agreement. "Yeah. Times like this it really sucks to be an FBI agent with experience and know exactly how small the odds are. But we just have to keep treating it like a kidnapping until we know for sure it's something more. And even if Don's dead, we're going to have to keep looking until we find his body."

"Yeah," Liz agreed. "Hopefully we can at least give his family that."

Just then, Charlie emerged quickly from the conference room, rushing towards them, dragging a giant map haphazardly behind him. David couldn't quite hold back a smile at the sight. Amita, Larry, Nikki, and Colby appeared behind him.

"David!" Charlie called. "David! I think I may have something. Uh . . ." he trailed off as he fumbled with the map. Amita and Colby took the map from his hands, unfolding it and holding it up behind the mathematician.

The map was held low, so Charlie knelt down in front of it. David watched the frazzled man, marker smudge on his cheek, kneeling on the floor wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

"Okay," Charlie started quickly. "So Colby and Liz found out that Ralph Shore often goes up into Angeles National Forest. We weighed fairly heavily on this, and generated this map. According to the algorithm we'd already come up with and put into the computer program, I estimate a 84.6 percent probability he'd probably take Don to somewhere in this colored area here."

Charlie was poking frantically at the map to an area that was colored in red. David leaned forward. It was a relatively small, highly searchable area. The fastest way to look would be an air search, but David didn't want to risk having Shore being scared into possibly shooting Don, if Don was still alive.

"Well, he might have to have someplace to go," David pointed out, "especially if he still has Don. Let's look and see if there are any cabins or any buildings up that way." With that, all four agents turned to computers to search through topological maps as quickly as possible.

"Wait, wait!" Colby said suddenly. David wheeled his chair over to his friend's computer to take a closer look.

"What's that?" Colby pointed to his screen.

"That's a building!" Charlie exclaimed anxiously.

"It's a cabin of some sort," David specified.

"That's probably where he is," Charlie breathed frantically. "That's probably where Don is! You guys should go up there and look."

"Now wait, hold on Charlie," Colby said, laying a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We have absolutely no evidence of that. The connection here is pretty thin."

"He's right, Charlie," David agreed. Unfortunately, Colby was right. If they raced out to that cabin in the mountains right now, they'd be playing out a major, major hunch with absolutely no corroborating evidence other than Charlie's math. On the other hand . . .

"Why do we ever waste any time doubting Charlie?"

Colby's words from when Amita had been kidnapped found their way into David's ears. It was true, Charlie was pretty much always right.

"But let's quickly make sure there are no other buildings in Charlie's search area," David continued. "If that's all there is, then I'm willing to put a team together to go look. We've got no other leads at this point."

Charlie gave him a grateful look. Even when emotional, David figured, if Charlie came up with anything it was usually right.

Five minutes later, it was clear that the cabin was the only standing structure in all of Charlie's search area. It was time for a quick decision. David, who had somehow been put in charge of this search and rescue mission, needed to decide if they could justify the nearly two hour drive up to the northern edge of the forest. At this point, they had no other options.

If Don was already dead, the extra time would make no difference—except for that Shore would likely be running away. Although, if Shore had killed Don early on and disposed of his body right away, they likely had already missed their chance of catching Shore. But if Don was still alive but not where Charlie's search grid put them, then they'd really be wasting valuable time. But if Charlie was right . . . well, then they'd likely be saving Don from a terrible, terrible fate.

David glanced around, into the eyes of everyone in the room. Everyone was looking at him, expectantly waiting for his decision. In a sudden flash, David was briefly reminded of when Colby had been arrested but had revealed his true cover when he was out on a freighter, counting on the team to come and rescue him. Don and Megan had made their decision, ready to head out to that freighter with little evidence and no warrant, and were only waiting for David to agree.

What it came down to was Charlie's 84.6 percent, and the fact that his former boss was counting on them the same way Colby had all those years ago.

"All right. Liz, Nikki, you guys get together a tac team right now. Charlie, you print me out some specific directions to this cabin. We roll in ten."

Everyone sprang into action right away. David quickly reached out to grab Charlie's arm.

"Charlie," he said, "I think you should probably take Larry and Amita and go back to your house."

Charlie shook his head, as David had expected. "No, no, no. We'll wait for you here."

"Charlie, it doesn't make a difference if you wait here or at home," David pointed out. "You really should go home. Think about your dad and Robin. You should really be with them right now, okay? I promise you we will call you the minute we know something." He emphasized his point with a hard look into Charlie's eyes until finally, the younger man nodded.

"Okay," Charlie relented. "Just please, go find my brother."

David nodded. He'd do everything in his power to do just that.

7:03 a.m.

All business was taken care of, so to speak. At least Don wouldn't attempting an escape on a full bladder.

He slowly zipped his pants and took his time tucking his white dress shirt back into his tuxedo pants. Somehow, he'd lost all the other parts of his tuxedo other than the shirt, pants, and shoes.

He didn't flush right away; instead he tiptoed across the small bathroom and placed his ear on the door. However, he noticed that the door had an old style knob and lock, with a small keyhole under the knob. That was oddly convenient.

Don silently squatted down to peer through the key hole. All he could see was the gun Shore held in his hand, pointed down to the ground.

He could totally do it. It might even work, too. He'd have to do it just right, and react so quickly afterwards. He might even be able to get control of the gun. Considering how unsure he was about the possibility of a rescue, this might be the best move.

Surely, if Don failed, Shore wouldn't kill him. Shore wouldn't waste his precious revenge plan, whatever it entailed that Don could unfortunately imagine, that Don was sure of. He was literally betting his life on it.

His heart pounded audibly in his chest.

Silently, he pulled open the door to the small cabinet beneath the sink, wincing as it let out a barely audible squeak. Peering inside, Don was delighted to find that this bathroom was equipped with this most basic and standard of bathroom-related items - which is exactly what he'd been hoping for.

Without a sound, Don quickly grasped the long, skinny object in his hand. It was a little small, but it would do as the makeshift weapon he'd been assuming - and praying - would be in the bathroom. He once again realized how dangerous and flawed his half-baked plan was, but at this point he really had to try something.

"Are you almost done in there?" Shore called impatiently.

"Yeah," Don called back. He leaned back over to flush the toilet.

Now, Don. While the sound of the flushing toilet is creating a small distraction.

A solid, firm kick to the bathroom door and he was off to the races. Immediately, Don lunged forward. He was halfway through propelling himself through the door before he realized that his kick had sent the door right into Shore's body, knocking him to the floor. Suddenly, Don was out of the bathroom and standing over Shore, toilet plunger raised over his shoulder like a baseball bat. Without really thinking, Don swung immediately, making contact with his assailant's hands and sending the gun skittering harmlessly across the floor. Home run?

The small victory didn't last long, however. Shore hooked his feet around Don's ankles and yanked, pulling Don down to the floor. The plunger fell out of Don's grip and rolled away, now just as out of the equation as the gun was. Now all Don could do was fight, using his fists and his reflexes.

He fought desperately, throwing punches when he could. His only hope was to somehow scramble past Shore and get to the gun that currently lay stationary on the floor across the room.

Easier said than done. Shore was putting up one hell of a fight. Don managed to protect his face fairly well, thankfully, only receiving a few blows to the mouth. Most of the fight was Don and Shore trying to push each other aside, both desperately trying to get to the gun.

Don finally managed to pull ahead, his left hand clasping around the cool metal of the gun. Unfortunately, right at the same time, Shore had a tight grip on his right wrist. The way Don's body flopped to the floor plus the angle and force with which Shore pulled his arm backwards proved a bad combination. A painful pop reverberated from his wrist all through his arm. He couldn't quite hold back the loud groan of pain that followed.

The throbbing waves of pain washing through his now-broken arm served as enough of a distraction for Shore to pull himself level with Don and grip the gun handle himself. Don, however, focused his energy on not letting go. The two both grappled with the gun. Shore had the advantage, though, with two good hands to Don's one.

Don barely had time to notice that the gun barrel was pointed in his direction before somewhere in the struggle, the trigger was pulled and the sound of a gunshot filled the small cabin.

TBC

I love cliffhangers, don't you guys?