Note: Rated T for language.
Chapter Two:
"Patrol, this is CSI Sidle requesting backup at-" Was all she could get out before the bedroom door was kicked open, and Sara was looking down the barrel of a gun.
"Drop the phone!" The man shouted, Sara crouched down, and put the phone down.
CSI Sidle, what is your position? The officer responded. The thought of answering was so temping, but was too risky. This man was a least twice her size.
"Turn it off, NOW!" He shouted, louder this time.
CSI Sidle, what is your position? Is the suspect armed?
"Turn. It. OFF! Now! Damn it!"
Sidle, is the suspect- Sara clicked the phone off.
"Where's the kid?" The man asked as he grabbed a handful of Sara's hair.
"Wh-What kid?"
This earned a good kick to the ribs. "You know damn well who I'm talkin' about! Now, where is she?" He pulled her up by her hair, so he could look her in the eye; not that it was doing much good, he eyes were closed.
"I have… no idea... who you're… talking… about." She winced between breaths.
He was mad now. He flung her by her hair into the wall, and wrapped a hand tightly around her neck, and started to squeeze. "Where. Is. She?" He hissed.
The room started to spin, things started to go black. All of a sudden the closet door flung open and Lindsey was attacking the man, ripping the mask off his face. He released his grip on Sara, and used his back to ram Lindsey into the wall. He looked down at her. "You little brat!" he spat and kicked her in the stomach. A sudden sound from outside caught his attention briefly.
This was Sara's chance, she jumped on his back and smashed his head into the nearest wall, sending him to the ground and causing his forehead to bleed. She reached for her gun, but felt something cold get smashed into her temple.
"I wouldn't do that, sweetie." Another man said, he reached and took the gun from her, and flung it into another room.
"What do you want?" Sara whimpered.
"Justice."
Oook. That wasn't the answer she had been expecting, she opened her mouth to speak, but the man hit her on the forehead with the butt of the gun. She felt her warm blood trickle down her face, and drip onto the floor.
The last thing she heard were the men arguing and Lindsey's terrified cries.
Catherine pulled into the drive way, but upon exiting her car, she knew something was wrong. The front door was open; not just cracked, but flung open. She walked up to the door, and her heart sank to her stomach.
The living room was a total mess, the tables had been knocked over, her vase was smashed into a million pieces, a book (Sara's) was in the middle of the floor, and there were small drops of blood, leading to the back door.
Catherine didn't even think about disturbing the scene. She bolted inside, and ran straight to Lindsey's room, screaming for her and Sara. She wasn't prepared for what she saw inside.
Two blood pools; one on the wall, and one on the ground. Neither was very large, but was enough to be injured from. Lindsey's closet door was also flung open, and Sara's phone was on the ground.
The phone! Catherine thought, she fumbled with her cell phone, and dialed Brass's number.
"Brass," He answered.
"Oh my god, Jim! They took them! Someone took them!" She cried into the phone.
"Whoa, whoa, Catherine! Calm, down! Who are you talking about?"
"Sara and Lindsey! Someone took Sara and Lindsey!" She was sobbing now.
"What? Cath, where are you?"
"I'm at home, I-I-I came home and they were gone, Jim!"
"I'll be there with the others in ten minutes, Catherine." Jim assured the frantic blonde, "and, for their sake, get out of the house. We don't need any contaminated evidence."
"Please… just hurry Jim." She hung up, and cried into her hands. What else could she do? If something happened to Lindsey or Sara…
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of sirens in the distance. She calmed herself the best she could, and carefully walked out of the house. Once outside, reality hit once more, and the tears returned.
Pain.
A pain like never before.
The Mother of all migraines.
That was all Sara Sidle could feel at the moment, a throbbing pain that seemed as though it would never let up. She tried to place a hand to her pounding skull, but soon discovered that both her hands were tied behind her back. She let out an annoyed groan.
"Sara?" A little voice cried.
Sara's eye shot open at the realization that she wasn't alone. But the sight before her only caused confusion. Lindsey Willows, Catherine's daughter, was lying on the ground next to her, bound the exact same way. What was going on?
Then she remembered. It came in a flashback.
She'd been watching her boss' teenage daughter as a favor. It had been quiet for about an hour, then, just as Lindsey asked to watch TV, a loud bang came from the back door. Then things got a little fuzzy. She remembered trying to call it in, then in a flash she was pinned against a wall, fighting for each breath she took in.
Then, all she remembered was Lindsey crying in fear, and another man starting to argue with their attacker. But that man was no hero, he was an accomplice.
Her flashback was ended roughly as the seemed to start rocking, and bouncing up and down. Were they in a car? Sara looked around and noticed they were in a very large trunk. One that was separated from the main part of the car, which meant that their conversation would go un-detected.
"Sara?" Lindsey asked, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Sshh, its ok Lindsey..." She paused; talking didn't seem to hurt as bad as she thought it would. "I'm here, we're gonna be ok."
"I'm scared!" Lindsey cried in a whisper.
"I know… that's ok." Truth be told, Sara was just as scared as the teenager in front of her. But she couldn't show it, not if they wanted to get out alive. "Do you know where we are?" Sara asked.
"No…" Lindsey whined, "But I think we're in the middle of nowhere."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I heard cars earlier, like we might have been going through town or something but… Then it got really quiet, too quiet to still be in town."
Suddenly the car jerked to the right, sending the two rolling into each other. By the time they stopped rolling; Lindsey was on the opposite side of which she had been moments before.
"You ok?" Sara asked as the car steadied out. Lindsey nodded.
Then the car stopped. Voices could be heard from both sides, and they were headed towards the trunk. Both women scooted to the very back of the trunk. "Stay behind me, Lindsey." Sara ordered; not like Lindsey had a choice.
The trunk opened, and a ray of light illuminating the small area. She couldn't make out faces, but she could make out two large figures standing over them. One held a flashlight, and the other held what looked like a small, box like object. Sara's eyes began to adjust to the light, and she could see that it wasn't a box, but a camera.
A camera? She thought. What is he going to do with a camera? Before she could think of an answer, the first man; the one with the light, scooped her into his arms. Sara immediately started to kick and scream, but she was no match.
"No point in that, sweetie," He said, "Look around, no one can hear you…"
He was right.
They were alone.
In the middle of the desert.
"…And if you try and run, you'll end up the stomach of the vultures."
The thought of getting lost in the desert again made Sara go limp. That was one thing she never wanted to experience again.
She heard the other man pick up Lindsey, and give her the same speech as she screamed and thrashed about in his arms. Both were carried into a small building; it looked like an old abandoned house, and they were each placed in the same room; one that had a bed, a lamp on a shelf, and a bathroom, but were bound a second time and placed in the corner of the room.
Sara tried to get a look at the man, but before she could, tied a cloth around her head and in front of her eyes. He repeated this with Lindsey, and then pulled out the camera.
"Say cheese." He laughed evilly as the flash went off, startling both women. Sara listened as the picture printed out of the camera, and when he began to blow on it. Then he walked out of the room with his partner, to put his plan into action.
He set the picture down on his desk, and pulled out a yellow sticky-note. He grabbed the nearest pin he could find, and wrote; in his neatest handwriting, the exact instructions:
We want $50,000 by next Thursday, midnight. That's five days.
Drop off is at the burned down flower plant.
Bring no police with you, or their dead.
Bring no weapons, or their dead.
If you want both of them back alive, you will follow these instructions exactly as they are.
No tricks.
But remember this, Catherine Willows:
Anything that happens to them is your fault.
Satisfied, he placed the note on the picture, and stuck it in an envelope. He wrote Catherine Willows on the front, and walked out to his car. First, he drove to the nearest gas station, and picked up some supplies. Then he drove to the first post office he could find, and mailed his note to the Las Vegas Crime Lab.