V

Sam was shivering violently. The rush of adrenaline had long worn off and the cold humid air was seeping into his bones. He'd been working feverishly on cutting his bonds, first trying to rub them against the headboard itself and when that didn't have any effect, he'd used the sharper edge between frame and supporting bars to slowly carve an edge into the ropes around his wrists. Unfortunately, the thousand unnecessary knots now hindered his efforts to flee, because he couldn't apply pressure to the important parts of the restraints. The angle was all wrong and his only achievement so far was a small fissure in the material and a ridden up shirt that would tell anybody with more than two brain cells what he'd been up to.

"Fantastic. I'm as much a screw-up as they are", he muttered in frustration.

"Aw, give yourself some credit, Detective", came the answer from the door. Sam blinked – he hadn't heard the middle-aged man come in, nor did he have any idea how long he'd been watching. Well, there was nothing to hide anyways.

"You must be Frankie", Sam said in greeting, very aware of his disheveled state. He didn't bother to comment when the newcomer wordlessly checked the boy's handiwork on the shackles. While Frankie installed one of the cardboard boxes next to the bed and made himself at home, Sam gave the new boss a once-over. His demeanor was calm, relaxed even, which made him a lot more dangerous than Des or Boyden. Although Sam tried to stay as composed as the criminal, he couldn't hide a flinch as Frankie scrutinized the blood on Sam's temple and then pulled his shirt further up to reveal the beginnings of dark purple bruises on his chest.

"Boyden did that?", Frank inquired earnestly. Sam didn't see the need to answer, he just eyed the criminal warily. After a while, Frankie nodded to himself and released the cloth.

"Boyden! C'mere, boy!" Like a child about to be scolded, Boyden waddled up to Frankie. His eyes were downcast, his whole posture screamed submission. This, most of all, gave Sam an insight into Frankie's character. What kind of person turned an arrogant alpha-male teenager into a groveling child? He didn't really want to find out.

"This", Frankie pointed at Sam's face and chest, "This makes me really sad. See, you can't deliver damaged goods and pretend nothing is wrong. You. Can't. Do. That!" With every accented word, Frankie struck Boyden with a hard backhand across the face. And Boyden just stood there, taking his punishment.

"Sorry, Frankie."

"Enough! I need you to understand. You lost me a lot of money with your childish temper."

"Money?", Boyden repeated, the greed already creeping back into his reddish features. Sam straightened on the bed and listened intently. The sinking feeling in his gut turned into something akin to panic as Frank continued his lesson.

"See, when you called me, I made a few calls myself. Turns out one of my buddies actually knows one Detective Sam Swarek, Fifteenth Division. He's willing to pay a lot of money to get his hands on him. But of course he wants him unharmed. And what do I tell him, trusting fellow as I am? Sure, my guys can handle that. But could you handle it, Boyden?"

"No. I'm sorry", Boyden said and fidgeted in front of Frankie's ice-cold stare. When the teenager turned away in shame, Sam took his chance to intervene before things truly got out of hand. How would his friends and colleagues ever find him if he was brought to another location? He'd have to get the third party out of the picture.

"My girlfriend will pay twice the price you're getting from whoever you've made a deal with", he said desperately. Frankie turned around and shook his head nonchalantly.

"I'm afraid I don't believe you, Detective. Nobody has that kind of money lying around."

"She does. She's a Peck." Well, Gail wasn't his girlfriend, but she'd be smart enough to pretend if Frankie called her. Sam hoped against all common sense that the criminal would actually take the offer and involve Officer Peck.

"Peck? Like the Superintendent? You have powerful friends. But even if your girlfriend and her brother weren't also with the police – oh, yes, I know all about them – I don't back out of deals once they're struck. Nobody smart would go behind their business partner's back. Especially not this time", Frankie said, holding up his hands when Sam tried to renegotiate. He wouldn't have known what else to offer anyways.

During the conversation, Boyden had hung back in the corner. Now he approached again, clearly trying to earn back Frankie's good graces. "Is there anything we can help you with? Des is upstairs and we'll do whatever you asked."

"Get the car." There was no emotion in the criminal's voice, which made Sam suspect that Boyden would have to do a lot better before he was forgiven. Not that he cared in particular, but he'd like a chance to talk to Des again. Maybe he could flip the kid and get him to help. However, when Boyden turned around again on his way up, all thoughts of an alliance with the large teenager were pushed out of Sam's head as Boyden asked the all important question.

"So... who are you selling him to?"

"The Brannigan's."

"Oh shit", Sam whispered and Frankie immediately diverted his attention from the youth. An entertained expression crossed his face while he sat down on the box again.

"So you know who I'm talking about. Interesting. Tell me more." Sam groaned, hitting himself mentally for his lapse of control. He shouldn't have spoken at all, should have kept his mouth shut and waited for a chance to escape. But Frankie's announcement had been too much of a shock. Yes, he'd met the Brannigan crime family, years ago on his first undercover assignment. He'd helped to put more than half of the wide-spread clan in jail.

VI

Andy's head was spinning. Even hours after they'd discovered the keys to Sam's car and apartment, she couldn't figure out what could have happened to make him leave them. If he had dropped them in shock as the window broke, why didn't he simply pick them up again later? If he had to take cover, why hadn't he come back for them? And why hadn't she called him when he hadn't shown up for work? Why? Now the guilt was eating her alive.

"I'm the worst girlfriend ever", she murmured gloomily, then tried to concentrate on the scene in front of her. On the other side of the glass, Detective Nash was interrogating a possible witness. His name was Jeremy Tobias Utah, probably the last person to have seen Sam alive. He was also the boy the old Lady Mary had described as the boy who'd been thrown through the window. Luckily, the woman had a great memory when it came to faces and the shop owner had been able to identify the kid when he saw the photofit picture.

And that's where the good new ended, because Jeremy wasn't cooperative at all, pretending he didn't know anything. In fact, Nash had been in there for hours and hadn't made any progress. During the whole conversation, Jeremy kept his hands in his lap and his eyes on his hands. When Tracy leaned forward, he glanced at her for a moment before resuming his curled-in position. A never-ending, useless circle. They'd never get the answers and they'd never find Sam.

"This isn't working", Andy growled, marched out of the room and opened the door to the interrogation chamber with a loud bang. However, even that didn't pull Jeremy out of his lethargy. Angrily, Andy hit the table with her flat hand, startling Jeremy to meet her eyes.

"One of ours is missing! Now you can either tell me what I want to know or I swear, I'll make your life miserable and never let you go!", she threatened.

"You wouldn't", Jeremy whispered, blue puppy-dog eyes wide. Andy slowly came over to his side of the table and circled him like a shark while Tracy shrugged apologetically.

"She might, actually. You don't know her like I do. She can be a real bitch." Behind the boy's back, Andy smiled grimly at her friend. Their game seemed to be working, Jeremy was sweating and clearly weighted his possibilities. Good, time to rise the stakes.

"Talk!", Andy shouted and brought her fist down right next to him, which made him jump slightly in his chair. Usually, the part of the bad cop didn't come to her naturally, but today it felt good to let some of the anxiousness go. Perhaps her performance was a bit over the top, though, which she realized as the door opened and Oliver ordered her outside.

"Too much?", Andy asked once they were standing in the hallway. She still had her arms crossed in front of her, trying to come back to her normal self. Oliver smiled at her, shaking his head once and giving Andy a chance to catch her breath.

"No. But he needs somebody he can trust. Now that you have pushed him, he'll hopefully open up to Detective Nash. Let's go and see", Oliver explained and Andy nodded. Together they entered the observation room, where half the precinct was gathered. Chloe and Dove were there, both of them expressing their worry by being utterly silent. Noelle was sitting on the only chair and Detective Peck was hovering in a corner. After he'd heard that Sam might have gone missing, he'd decided to stay, which gave him a lot of bonus points in Andy's book.

"She... she isn't coming back, is she?", Jeremy asked, visibly shaken up. Tracy smiled sympathetically, admitting she didn't know exactly. "Just give us your statement, please. I'll make sure nobody disturbs us."

"I... okay." All the tension seemed to seep out of the young man. "There were these guys that used to deal at my school. Boyden and Des. I... I owe them money, okay? More than I have right now, so I avoided them until... until..."

"Until they confronted you at the bakery this morning?", Tracy prompted cordially. She took one of Jeremy's hands and looked deeply into his eyes. Reassured, Jeremy continued, albeit with a quivering voice.

"Y-Yeah. They saw me and shot in the a-a-air to scare me. And they threw me through the window. Then the Detective – I didn't know he was a Detective – he tried to help me, but I was so scared and they were right behind me. I ran and he f-f-followed..."

"Who? Detective Swarek followed you?"

"Yeah. Him. But Boyden and Des, too. They caught up with me and the Detective. And then they told me to run. And... and... and I did. Oh god, I'm sorry. They had a gun and I just ran away", he said, crying now. Tracy held his hand and shot an irritated look at her audience, mouthing now what? at the window.

"We've got to find Boyden and Des!", Andy exclaimed and rushed out the door, followed by Dove, who worked his computer magic and found the two minor criminals in record time.

"Their real names are Boyden Malfone and Desmond Connigh. Apparently they were involved in a few misdeeds together", Dove reported. Andy scowled and grabbed the paper with the bios and the addresses on it.

"Wait a moment. What was the last name again? Connigh?", Detective Peck suddenly spoke up. He took a long look at the photos, then asked Dove to search for a connection to Frank Connigh.

"That's Desmond's uncle. Real nasty fellow, too. Why? Do you know him?", Dove asked and looked at the older Peck with a mixture of suspicion, admiration and surprise. The Detective didn't seem to notice, instead focusing his intense gaze on the whole group when he replied.

"I've met him before, but we weren't able to get him last time. He's got connections to the Brannigan crime family and is a big fish. Moreover, Sam and I worked the Brannigan case a few years back – we were both undercover. It was one of our first missions and believe it or not, Swarek was even more arrogant and self-assured than me. He got made about two months in. Thankfully, we were able to arrest most of them before the Brannigan's could act on their knowledge."

"Damn. What if they make the same connection we did?", Gail asked mercilessly and was met with a wall of silence. Tracy squeezed Andy's shoulder, but Andy shrugged her off to rise from her place on the edge of the table.

"Let's go and get him back!"