JT switched the display to satellite with a road marker overlay. "The signal's coming from somewhere in here." He pointed at the screen. "Lotus Park, out on State Road 27."

"Print it out."

Doug snatched the paper off of the printer and ran out of the room. He pulled out his cell phone and called Captain Fuller as he headed out of the building and toward his car. "Cap'n! I got it! The signal's coming from Lotus Park, about a mile inside the East entrance. There's no reason for him to be out there. He's gotta be in trouble!" He jumped into his car and fastened his seat belt.

"Calm down, Doug," Fuller replied. "It might just be the phone…doesn't mean he's with it. He could be somewhere else and somebody ditched the phone out there."

"All right…all right…let's just hurry anyway. I'll be there in five."

"I'll be waiting out front. And I'll go ahead and send the uniforms on out too."

The early afternoon sun shone brightly as Penhall and Fuller drove out State Road 27 toward the park. Neither man spoke much during the drive, each lost in his own thoughts. But if they had spoken, they would have said the same thing. They both hoped they would find their colleague at the park, but they both also hoped that they wouldn't.

"There…on the left…East entrance." Fuller pointed across the road and Doug made the turn. Fuller had the map printout from JT, and he read aloud the directions to their focus spot, the Beech Grove picnic area.

The car wound through the twisted, tree lined road, deep into the park. Arriving at their destination, they saw that the patrol car officers were already there waiting for them. Doug parked the car, and he and Fuller got out and looked around the area.

It was a large recreation area. The parking lot had room for approximately 20 cars. There were two shelters as well as three distinct picnic areas. A small playground took up a section in the middle, and barbeque grills dotted the vicinity.

"All right, guys, here's what we've got," Fuller said as he spread the map out on the nearest picnic table. "JT narrowed the cell signal down to here." He pointed to a dot on the map. "That looks like it's about…" He shaded his eyes as he scanned the region. "There. Near Shelter Two. Let's start there and radiate out."

As they strode across the field toward the shelter, Doug looked at Fuller. "Hey…Cap'n," he said hesitantly. "Umm…Chief gave us two hours. We're gonna go over that."

Without breaking stride, the captain answered, "Screw him."

A half an hour later, the radius of their search had grown considerably. Penhall repeatedly made calls to Tom's phone, hoping one of them would hear it ringing somewhere, but so far they had not heard anything. The men also called out their colleague's name but had received no response.

Doug was checking the perimeter of Shelter One when suddenly he heard one of the uniformed officers shout, "Here! Over here! I got him!" Doug looked up to see Officer Barrett across the field near a dumpster in one of the picnic areas. He had one arm raised in the air and was on his radio with the other. Doug began to run toward him and saw Fuller and Officer Jeffries doing the same.

Doug was the last to arrive, skidding to a halt and trying to catch his breath as he took in the sight before him. Barrett had just finished putting in the call for back up, and Jeffries was running back to the patrol car to bring it over to the scene. Captain Fuller was already crouched down next to the body on the ground, his fingers pressed against Tom's neck.

And Tom….Doug tried to rationalize what he was seeing, but it was too much for him to process. His partner was lying on his side with his legs drawn up. His arms were pulled behind his back, secured at the wrists with rope. Doug could see that the rope had made jagged cuts in Tom's wrists, leaving them and the rope covered in blood. There were bruises and marks all over his neck and throat, and his face…God…his face. Ghostly pale skin stood out in patches where the flesh was not bruised. Those patches were few, as most of his face showed a shade of dark purple or black. His eyes were tightly closed, the left one especially dark and swollen. Blood from a cut over his right eye had settled around his eyelids. Splotches of blood had dried under his nose and around his mouth. His mouth was open; something blood covered stuffed in it and held tightly by a length of rope wound around his head. This rope too had done its damage, cutting the tender skin there and leaving angry looking, bloodied marks.

Doug felt like he might throw up…or cry…or both. He made a move toward Hanson, but Fuller stopped him as he stood up.

"Doug, no! You can't touch him. Stay back."

"But he's…"

Fuller tried to calm the younger man down. "We need to wait for the EMTs and Forensics."

"But…" Doug stammered, still staring at the injured man on the ground.

Fuller took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Doug, listen to me. He's breathing. He has a pulse. We need to wait so any evidence is preserved."

Doug continued to stare, his eyes wide and his mouth open.

"You want to catch these guys, don't you?" Fuller asked him. "We need to do this right."

Doug finally looked at his captain, the spell over him seemingly broken. "Yeah…yeah." He paused, then ran his hand over his face. "Jesus Christ, Fuller…what did they do to him? Who the fuck could do something like this to a person?"

Fuller let go of him and stood back to look at Hanson. He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, Doug…but we're gonna find out."

In the distance, they could hear the sirens approaching. They continued to watch their friend, ever mindful of his breathing, ready to step in if there was a need. Doug crouched down as close to his partner as he was allowed and spoke softly. "Hey…Tom? Tommy…we're here, man. It's gonna be okay. Help is coming, buddy. Just hang on for us…hang on." There was no reaction. Doug still could not believe what he was looking at in front of him. He shook his head and looked to the sky. It seemed impossible…like something out of a dream or a bad movie.

The sound of the sirens coming closer brought Penhall back to attention. He looked up to see several police cars arriving along with an ambulance. Following close behind them were an unmarked car and a Forensics van. The vehicles screeched to a stop and the emergency personnel spilled out.

Detective Mark Michaels, a 17 year veteran of the force and a close friend of Fuller, approached the captain. "Adam," he greeted him.

"Mark," Fuller replied grimly. "I don't know what the hell we've got here, but it's a mess."

Michaels looked around the scene. "Yeah. It is. Owens is on his way. And if I were you, I'd dispense with the 'I told you so's."

The two men continued to discuss the situation, Fuller answering the detective's questions and Michaels writing in his notebook.

Doug stepped back out of the way as the two Forensics investigators arrived. The women worked quickly, know that the victim needed medical treatment as soon as possible. One of them took photos of Tom's position on the ground and close-ups of his restraints before the other began to carefully remove them. Donning latex gloves, she used scissors to cut one clean break in the rope around Tom's head. She pulled it away from him slowly, grimacing at the abrasions it left behind. She placed the rope into an evidence bag and then removed the blood soaked cloth from his mouth, bagging it as well.

Next, she moved to his hands, again cautiously snipping the rope and unwinding it from around his wrists. "Jesus," she uttered as it pulled free from the wounds with a sickening sucking sound. She bagged the rope and stood up, motioning to the paramedics. "Okay, you're good to go."

The two men ran over with their equipment and began assessing their patient. One of them began getting an IV line ready while the other checked Tom's neck for any injury before they moved him. Satisfied that there was no damage there, he took Tom's left arm to move it from behind his back so that he could be rolled over.

As the Forensics investigators and paramedics had begun touching him, Hanson began to show some signs of awareness…moving slightly and moaning softly. Still, he did not awaken or open his eyes. But when his arm was moved, he cried out in great pain and his breathing became ragged gasps, as the muscles there were cramping severely after being held in place for so long. The paramedic spoke gently to him, "I know…I know…I'm sorry." He finished moving Tom's arm and rolled him over, causing Tom to cry out again.

As Tom continued to whimper softly, the paramedic carefully raised Tom's right eyelid, peering into his eye with a penlight. Tom moaned and tried to turn away from the intruding brightness. The paramedic next gently pried open Tom's left eye, being careful not to cause too much pain as the area surrounding it was very swollen and bruised. Tom again moaned and tried to move away. Still not fully conscious, he was making small, frightened sounds as he moved his head from side to side. "Pupils are equal and reactive!" the paramedic called out to his partner. "Let's get that IV in here!"

No no no…not again…God no…not again. Tom was slowly becoming aware of people around him…hands touching him…voices floating above him. They were back. They must be back. They were going to finish him off. Eyes closed, he moaned and tried to move away, feeling hands holding him in place. Panic rose inside of him, and he grew more agitated, struggling against the hands that were on him. He realized that his arms were free now, and he used them to weakly last out against his unseen agitators. The hands grasped his arms and held them at his sides while others began poking and prodding his body. Feeling helpless and defeated, he stopped his fight but continued to roll his head back and forth and began to cry, mumbling unintelligible words through his torn and swollen lips.

As the paramedics continued to work on the distressed young man, Fuller came over to join Penhall near the scene. "How's he doing?" he asked.

Doug did not look up as he answered, keeping his eyes focused on his partner. "I don't know. He's…he just…hell, look at him!"

Tom's eyes were open now, wandering aimlessly and unseeing. He was shaking, gasping for air between small sounds of despair. One of the paramedics was checking Tom's blood pressure and the other was cutting his t-shirt off, exposing his bruised and battered torso. One of the Forensics investigators took the shirt and placed it in an evidence bag as the paramedic examined his patient. "Looks like we've got some broken ribs…possible internal bleeding…how's his BP?"

"Dropping! We need to get him out of here!"

Fuller and Penhall looked on as Hanson was quickly moved to a stretcher and strapped down. "I'm going with him!" Doug announced. He ran over to the vehicle and waited while his friend was loaded in, then hopped in and sat on the bench near Tom's head.

Fuller approached and told Doug, "Chief Owens and I are going to see his mom. I'll get to the hospital as soon as I can."

Doug nodded at the captain as the doors were closed and the ambulance started to move. He looked down at Tom, wincing at the sight of the black and blue covering his chest and abdomen. He watched as the paramedic attached a heart monitor to Tom and then placed a bandage over his eye where the cut there had begun bleeding again. Tom was still shaking and muttering incoherently, his teary eyes staring straight up. But he did not respond to the paramedic's repeated questions and attempts at gaining his attention.

Despite the fact that Hanson was obviously out of it, Doug spoke quiet words of comfort to him as the siren began to wail. There appeared to be no place on Tom's body that could be touched without causing pain, but Doug reached out and took the fingers of Tom's left hand and held them gently, rubbing his thumb over the tops of them. A moment later, he felt the fingers closing tightly around his own.

A little bit of resolution for you...for now. :-) I love hearing what you think! Another update is on its way soon.