Disclaimer- They are like little action figures I do not own, but have the incisive need to play with. CBS owns them. Mr. Heller made them. No money is, was, or ever will be made from this.

[Chapter 6]

"Boss, I'm gonna have to call you back." Grace hung up the phone to address the two men standing by her desk. "And you guys are?"

"I'm Davis, he's Sloan. We're with the Marshal Service. F.I.S.T."

"Rigsby seems to be a popular guy today," Craig said. "I'm O'Laughlin, FBI, and this is Van Pelt, CBI, Major Case part of Rigsby's unit. What does a fugitive strike team want with Rigsby?"

"What did you mean by 'Rigsby's a popular guy today'?" Sloan asked.

"He and our consultant were taken earlier today. We have are following some leads. What did you want him for?" Grace said.

"We are tracking down a fugitive who escaped a work detail four months ago, Troy Hillard." Davis dropped the dossier onto Grace's desk for them to flip through. "We were following a lead, which led to Agent Rigsby."

O'Laughlin let off a whistle as he continued to read the file over Grace's shoulder. "Assault, trafficking, attempted murder, aggravated assault, possession with intent to sell, manslaughter, across four states. It just goes on and on. Juvenile offender to career criminal. The prison let him out on a work detail?"

"What does this have to do with Rigsby? I don't see him as the arresting officer on any of these charges or listed as family or known associates. What led you here?" Grace asked.

"One of Hillard's associates mentioned Rigsby. We thought that meant his father. Steven Rigsby wasn't the most cooperative fellow," Sloan answered.

"That was putting it mildly. The man laughed at us, said he didn't talk to pigs, and tried to slam the door in our faces," Davis said.

"My foot still kind of hurts," Sloan said sheepishly. "They both served sentences in Carson, but were in different cell blocks. Took some coaxing and threatening, but Mr. Rigsby said to ask his son, so we decided to pay Agent Rigsby a visit."

There was a ding from Grace's computer. She hit a few key strokes and turned the screen to the men huddled around her desk. "I got a hit on the two from the surveillance video. George Watson and James West."

Sloan reached over and flipped the file a couple of pages to show the mugshots of the two. "That would be right. Watson and West are known associates. They ran together, and were all scooped up in a drug bust a few years back. We questioned them a two days ago, and they said they didn't know where Hillard was."

"Give me a minute. I have to relay this info to my boss," Grace told them.

"Cho." He answered his phone on the first ring and took out his pad to take notes. They were on their way towards Grayson, but were sitting in bumper to bumper traffic. "She's on the phone with Hightower or Bertram. You can email the files to me. The Marshals are working the same case? We're following a lead."

"More like a hunch," Lisbon mumbled to herself after she hung up the phone. "What now? What's going on up there."

Lisbon swerved onto the shoulder and made it a few yards before a deputy came running towards the car with his waving his hands, yelling, "Stop! What are you doing? I'm sorry, but there's a crime scene ahead, and we are trying to redirect traffic as fast as we can. Back up or I will have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

Lisbon reached into her pocket and flashed her badge. "We're with CBI. We need to cut the line a bit."

"That was quick."

"What was quick?" Lisbon asked.

"I'll show you. May I?" The deputy motioned to the backseat. Lisbon popped the lock and the deputy hopped into the SUV and rolled down the window. "Billy! Handle the traffic. I'm going to show these agents the crime scene."

Billy nodded his head as they drove past.

"Whew. We could have walked, but I just wanted to get out of the heat just a bit." The deputy leaned his head on the headrest. "Larry just said he was just going to call you. You must have been close by or something. We just got to the scene fifteen minutes ago."

"I'm Lisbon. He's Cho," Lisbon introduced themselves.

"Jeff. Jeff Milton."

"Why were you going to call us?" Cho asked.

"There was an incident on this stretch of road. We found this ID on the body. "The deputy handed the evidence bag to Cho. "I was just about to put it in my car."

"Boss, it's Rigsby's."

"Damn, I'm sorry. We couldn't identity the body by the photo. The head, well, see for yourself."

Lisbon scowled as she walked under the crime scene tape for the second time today. The Sheriff stood next to a heavy haul Mack truck talking to a man who kept shaking his head in disbelief, while another deputy talked to a man in a white Denali.

There were body parts scattered and smashed into the hot asphalt. Lisbon could make out an arm and leg and part of a torso covered by a tarp in front of the large semi and SUV.

"Witness say he was pushed from the car into traffic. The truck driver tried to stop but, well..." Jeff shook his head. "Around here the speed limit sixty five. The truck driver is a bit shook up, and admits he was doing about eighty. From what we can surmise, he bounced off the grill of the semi and into the SUV, and was dragged."

Lisbon took a closer step to the body. There was a sleeve tattoo covering the man's left arm.

"That's not my agent." Lisbon let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "My agent doesn't have any tattoos on his arms."

"He matches the description of one of the men who took Jane and Rigs. Van Pelt emailed us some info and pictures while you were on the phone," Cho said.

"Do you have any CSI's on the scene? I would like to send a ten-print to my FBI liaison to run at Quantico."

"We don't have anything like that. The local law enforcement consists of me, Billy, Rob the sheriff, and Roy. Nothing happens around here just speeding tickets and minor disputes. We've requested assistants from Highway Patrol and the neighboring law enforcement. We're still waiting for the coroner and just trying to keep everything calm as can be."

"Do you have a description of the car?"

"He was pushed from a dark colored sedan."

"Black Skylark? California plates?"

"Could have been a Skylark. That would match the description. Roy reported an abandoned car further down the road about three miles up. It was pretty banged up. I was going to have it towed to the gas station, but this took priority."

"We're going to take over this investigation," Lisbon told the deputy. "This incident is connected to the kidnapping of two of my agents."

"By all mean. There is one more thing I should mention. I got a call from Pete Thompson, said two men assaulted him and stole his van from the grocery store lot while he was unloading deliveries. Roy is with Pete, taking his statement."

"I need the make, model, and license of that car now," Lisbon said. "How long ago was this?"

"About twenty minutes ago or so. It's a navy blue Dodge Sprinter."

"Cho! Get the car. They were just here!" Lisbon yelled across the crime scene to Cho who was talking to the Sheriff. She turned back to Milton. "Do you know which direction they were heading?"

"I can get Roy on the radio and ask him."

Lisbon pulled the phone from her pocket. "I need a few agents to cover a scene. We just found one of the men who took Jane and Rigsby. I need a BOLO for a Dodge Sprinter."

"Jane!"

Jane forced himself to a standing position and shook his head to clear the stars that circled above. He stumbled around the room a bit until Rigsby grabbed his arm.

"Whoa. I'm all right," Jane told him.

"Did you inhale any of it?" Rigsby asked. "How much of the stuff did you inhale?"

Rigsby pulled Jane towards him and poured the bottle of water on the consultants head to was off the residual powder.

Jane hissed in pain as the water came in contact with the gash on his face. He was about to dry his face with his sleeve but Rigsby grabbed his arm again.

"Don't. We don't know what that powder was. You don't want to get anymore in that cut on your face." Rigsby pointed to the gash.

Jane nodded and pulled his vest and dress shirt off and dropped them onto the floor.

"Jane, did you inhale any of it?"

"I'm not sure," Jane told him when his head stopped spinning. "Some. A little. Not much."

"We need to get out of here."

"Do you gave any idea what that powder was?"

"It could be anything."

"It was Meth."

"It could be anything," Rigsby frowned.

"Which one of the Troys has a Meth connection and would want to kidnap you."

"I don't know. Three of them? This isn't important right now."

"Really. Wow. Which three?"

"Former best friend, and two people I help convict. Come on." Rigsby grabbed him by the arm and led him to the opening in the wall.

"Ow, dammit." Jane grabbed for the hole and cut himself on it's edge.

"What? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine just be careful. The edge there is sharp."

He let go of the rim and grabbed his suit jacket that was on the floor. After ripping a sleeve off to use as a bandage, he draped it over the opening before attempting to hoist himself out. Rigsby grabbed his feet and pushed him through the rest of the way.

"Which one do you think would do this to you?" Jane asked after Rigsby landed next to him with the pipe in his hand.

Wayne frowned.

"It's your former best friend."

"No," Rigsby said. "I didn't say that."

"Your mind keeps going back to him. Why is that?"

"I really don't want to talk about this. Can we just concentrate on getting out of here? How are you feeling?"

"A little banged up. I'm fine, trying to keep myself calm," Jane told him. "There. We can borrow that."

They found themselves in a fenced off area surrounded by barrels and cars in various conditions. Jane pointed to an old beat up F-100. The only car near them that wasn't being held up by cinder blocks.

"Do you think it still runs?" Rigsby asked.

"I think I can hot wire it." Jane slid into the driver's seat and began taking apart the steering column. "You were telling about your best friend."

"I wasn't." Rigsby sighed and ran his hand through his hair. His darted back and forth, looking for any signs of danger as he gripped the pipe tighter. "Look, its a part of my life I don't think about."

"We all have skeletons to hide."

"I mean, I don't poke and prod about your past. I've never read what's in your file."

"You should, it's an interesting read," Jane grinned. "I've read yours."

"What?" Rigsby flicked his head back towards Jane.

"I've read yours, Cho's and Van Pelt's. I wanted to know who I was working with."

"Those files are confidential. How did you even get access to- you know what, never mind."

"It's okay everyone has a past. We all have done things we shouldn't have and we regret."

"So you know my mother was killed, dad's a convicted felon that wanted little to do with me once I lost my usefulness."

"Usefulness?" Jane looked up from underneath the steering wheel. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Hmmm." Jane continued to rewire the starter. "If it's nothing then why does your former best friend want to kidnap you?"

"I never said it was my former best friend."

"Not out loud, but your body language tells a different story."

"That's the heat stroke."

"You sure about that? It's okay if you want to talk about it. I won't judge."

"Look, we need to get you to a hospital. We don't know what that powder was. How do you feel? We should of taken a sample of the stuff."

"I'm okay. Stop asking me if I'm okay. I'll let you know if anything changes." Jane continued his task. "I did take a sample of the stuff. It's in an evidence bag in your pocket."

The engine roared to life shifted the car into gear. "Come on."

"No, I'll drive."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"Snorting Meth can take five to ten minutes for you to feel it's affects. I would rather you not drive while your sense are impaired."

"Who said it was Meth, without analysis it could be talc, cornstarch, baking soda or coke."

"We were in a Meth lab and it looked like Meth to me. Depending on a number of factors, potency, tolerance can effect when it will hit you. And coke? Really? How was that a better choice?"

Jane shrugged. "How is your head? Still dizzy and fuzzy. Does your vision still blurry? Still having an issue focusing? Did the nausea subside? Feeling any other affects from the concussion you've sustained?"

"Who says I have a concussion?"

"Who said it was Meth?"

"We don't have time for this!"

"Easy. Take a deep breath and calm down. You can drive."

"Sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. It just..."

"I know the heat, the fun morning we had, skeletons. I get it..."

The car began to sputter, then backfired. Rigsby hopped into the passenger seat. Jane didn't wait for Rigsby to close his door fully before he floored it and sped through the fence.

"Take that!" Jane laughed.

It was a bit of a bumpy ride before they made it to a dirt road. Rigsby rummaged through the contents of the car. Most of it was junk, but he struck gold when he found looked into the glove compartment.

"Hey look. Cell phone. Looks like our luck is changing," Rigsby said. "I shouldn't have said that. I probably just jinxed us."

"I don't say that. Think positive thoughts. We'll be in the office shortly. I'll be sitting on my couch drinking a nice tall glass of ice tea in the air conditioning."

"Make that two. And some peach cobbler."

"There you go."

"Boss!" Rigsby yelled excitedly into the phone. "Can you triangulate my signal? You are breaking up a bit. I don't know where we are. I can see mountains in the distance. I think it's Mt. Diablo."

"Ask her if they deciphered my message?" Jane said.

"Boss? Can you hear me?" Rigsby pulled the phone from his ear. The phone beeped a low battery signal. "Damn. Come on don't die on me..."

"Uh Rigsby..." Jane grabbed his arm and the agent looked up from the phone.

"Troy..." Rigsby looked at the car in front of them.

Humpty leaned out of the passenger's seat and fired the shot gun at them. The buckshot smashed the windshield.

"Jane go!" Rigsby ducked down in his seat.

Jane swerved off the dirt road and into the dense brush. He veered left, just narrowly avoiding a tree. It was becoming hard to steer. The truck had momentum and was rolling downhill. Jane tried his best to avoid the obstacles in front of him.

"Which Troy was that," Jane yelled.

"Best friend."

"Ooo..."

"Jane? Are you hit?"

"No, but that's an interesting sensation. I think you were right. It is Meth..."

TBC