Part 3:

Cheryl reached the airport parking lot. She threw her car into park.

Getting out of her car, Ellison pulled up behind her. Mark and Cheryl rushed over to where Captain Newman was standing. "What do we have so far?"

"Nothing," he said.

"What do you mean nothing?" Mark asked

"Just what I said, Doctor Sloan. Nothing."

Ellison walked up to the small group. "Is there any sign of Lieutenant Sloan anywhere?"

"Afraid not," Newman said. "I have a team going through the parking lot and the airport and so far nothing."

"How can someone just disappear from an airport, and no one see anything?" Mark asked.

"People were more concerned with catching their flights or meeting up with others to notice something else happening."

"Well, you have less than twenty-four hours to find him or I'm going to lose this case," Ellison informed them.

"Is there any way you can ask the judge for more time?" Newman asked.

"No. I practically had to beg him for the time I got."

"Torres is behind this," Mark said.

"And exactly what kind of proof do you have Doctor Sloan?" Ellison asked.

"No proof, this is just something Torres would do."

"Well, without any proof, it's going to be hard to keep Torres in jail until we find Steve."

Mark thought hard. "Torres knows that Steve's testimony, coupled with Cheryl's, would put him away for life. He must have gotten some help from friends on the outside to make Steve suddenly disappear on the day of his testimony."

"Like I said; without any proof, the judge isn't going to go for postponing this trial any longer than tomorrow."

"Isn't there some way that we can make this judge keep Torres in jail until we find Steve?" Newman asked.

"I'll work on it. You guys just keep working on locating Steve; I'll call you when I come up with something."

"Okay," Cheryl said. "If we find anything before we hear from you, we'll call."

Once Ellison walked away from them, Newman glanced at Mark.

"Doctor Sloan," he said. "I'm going to have to ask you to stay out of this one."

"Stay out of this," Mark said surprised. "This is my son we are talking about here."

"And you'll be too personally involved," Newman said. "Let us handle this one."

Mark began to speak.

"Please Doctor Sloan," Newman said. "Let us handle this one, and if you interfere I'll have you arrested."

Cheryl watched her Captain walk away and she walked over to Mark.

"How can I not be involved," Mark told her.

"I think Captain Newman's right on this one," Cheryl said.

"But you guys have no idea where he is," Mark started, "if…if he's alive or dead?"

"No we don't."

Tears began to form. Mark quickly wiped them away and took a deep breath.

"Steve knows how to take care of himself," Cheryl assured him. "I'm sure when we find him, he's going to be just fine."

"You'll keep me posted, won't you?"

"Of course I will."

Mark looked up at the sky.

"You going to be okay?" Cheryl asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine."

"Look I need to get back to the station. I'll have one of the patrol cars take you home, and if you need anything, call."

Mark nodded.

Cheryl turned to leave. Mark moved closer to her and grabbed her arm. Cheryl turned and looked at him.

Mark's eyes filled with tears. "Please find him."

"I will, I promise," Cheryl said with a reassuring smile. "I'll bring him back safe and sound."

"Thank you."

Cheryl turned and walked away.

Mark looked upwards again, the tears that threatened to fall before trickled down his face. "Dear God, please bring my son back safe and unharmed."

Steve moaned as consciousness began to come back to him. He could feel the hardness of the floor underneath him. Slowly opening his eyes, he realized that he was now in a different room. He sat up, and taking a deep breath, he rubbed the sweat out of his eyes and tried to focus on what his new cell looked like. This room had more light coming in. Steve continued to look around; the wallpaper on the wall was faded and peeling away, and the wood floor he sat on was scuffed and worn. Steve's eyes finally settled on the door across the room. Shaking his head to help clear his vision, he looked at the door again.

Steve struggled to his feet, his equilibrium gone. Staggering across the room, he fell to his knees just short of the door. Trying to stand up, a wave a nausea his him, sending him back to his knees.

He could taste the bile at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard. Not now, Sloan.

Looking up at the door, he prayed that it would be open. Getting up once again, he thought please let it be open. He pulled on the handle. It didn't move. "No."

Leaning his head against the door, he closed his eyes. God please help me get out of here.

Steve continued standing at the door, wishing that when he opened his eyes, the nightmare would go away. It was just that, a nightmare.

His stomach churned from the smell radiating from his body. He grew hotter and hotter with each passing second. Sweat trickled down his back, making his shirt cling to his body. He could feel the back of his hair sticking to his neck. Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes. Wiping it away, he saw the window across the room.

"God, let this be the way out," he said.

Steadying himself as best he could, he moved towards the window, his hopes rising with each step.

He pulled back the curtain. Glass bricks blocked the window from the outside.

"No. Oh no." Steve staggered backwards, his body thudding against the wall. The room spun as he slid down to the floor.

Bringing his knees to his chest, he buried his head in his arms. I'm in Hell, and I'm never going to get out.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, Steve looked up and shook his head as the room continued to spin. Goodwin and his men walked toward him.

"Lieutenant Sloan, did you have a good nap?" Goodwin asked.

"What the hell did you give me?" Steve asked.

"What, you didn't like it?" Goodwin asked with a laugh. He snapped his fingers and one of his men handed him a syringe. "Well, we're just going to have to do something about that now, aren't we?"

Goodwin's men made a move towards Steve. Getting up quickly, Steve belted Jackson square in the jaw sending him to the floor. Franklin went rushing towards him, only to be met with a kick to the stomach.

Steve, seeing both men on the floor, figured he only had Goodwin to get through before making his escape through the now opened door.

He moved towards Goodwin, who began backing up. Steve stole one last glance towards the men on the floor. He thought with those two still down he was finally going to make his escape. Hands grabbed him from behind and he struggled against them. A crashing blow to his stomach stopped him. The guy holding Steve let him go, and he fell to the floor gasping for air.

The two men grabbed Steve roughly by his arms once more and pulled him up. Slamming him against the wall, Jackson pinned his arm up so that Goodwin could have easier access to it.

Goodwin walked up to them and tied a tourniquet on Steve's right arm. Jabbing him with the needle for the second time, he release its contents into his vein.

Steve felt them let him go; he slid down the wall once again. As the drugs took over his senses, he sat staring into nothingness.

Goodwin started to laugh, kneeling down next to him. "You might as well stop fighting us, Sloan, you aren't going to win." Standing up, he began to walk out. "See you in another couple of hours, Lieutenant Sloan. Maybe by that time you'll be a little more cooperative." He laughed again and walked out of the room with the other men.

Steve huddled on the floor against the wall, staring into nothingness. A single tear fell, sliding down his cheek into the black hole of his hope.