A/N: This fanfiction is rated T for Teen, under guidelines.
The nature and context of the following chapter may be disturbing for some readers.
However, it still follows the T rating guidelines, and will continue to do so. But as a concerned author- reader discretion is advised.
I piled into the driver's seat of one SUV, with Ed in the passenger's seat. Over the headset I could hear Greg and Winnie having a conversation.
"Winnie- what happened?" Greg asked.
"Police were called when several students on break noticed a vehicle with a man in it. One officer responded, and approached the vehicle. Several witnesses say that the man got out and pulled a small handgun on the officer. The officer tried to go to his sidearm when the man attacked him, then turned to the group of students watching nearby and grabbed Megan Perrasmith, and took off."
"How's our brother in blue?"
"Taken to hospital, condition unknown."
"Keep us updated on his condition, and send a detective there to pick up more details."
"Roger that." came Winnie's response.
We finally arrived on scene at the school.
I was here less than 4 hours ago...
We backed all the SUVs close to each other, so we had a contained square space in the middle. I got out of the vehicle and joined the team in the center.
"Ok guys," Greg said, "We don't have much to go on. The responding officer didn't record a license plate of the vehicle, so we can't start there."
"There's cameras," I suggested, "If nothing else, it can help us place the scene, if not get the plate number or even a description of the man."
"Good idea. You and Spike will get to that. Myself and Jules will talk to the witnesses. Sam, Ed- try tapping into the onboard cameras on the responding cruiser, see if it picked anything up."
I looked over to the far driveway out to the street and noticed two sleek, black cars pull in.
"SIU is here." I informed the team, although they had seen the cars pull in.
"Yeah." Greg said, "If they give any of you a hard time, let me know."
"Roger that." I responded, "Spike, lets go."
We entered the building, and immediately started to search for the principal. It didn't take long, because he approached us.
"I'm Strategic Response Unit Officer Kristopher Perrasmith and this is Officer Spike Scarlatti. We require access to your CCTV system." I asked.
"Right this way." the principal guided us, "Are you related?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You and the student that was taken," he said, as he opened an unlabelled office door, which opened up into the security room, which enclosed the security camera system and the wireless internet modem stack, "You and uh..."
"Megan?" Spike suggested, as he sat down at the desk, and started to type away at the computer.
"Yea! That's it- Megan. Are you two related?"
"She's my daughter." I curtly responded, as I hunched over and looked over the camera array, "Spike, camera E4 North Exit."
"I'll leave you two at it then." the principal muttered, as he left the open door and started walking down the empty hallway.
"Looping back E4 North Exit." Spike said, as he brought up the camera feed for the past hour.
"Fast forward a bit- break's at 11:15."
Instead of doing it though, I looked over to Spike to find him staring at me.
"You seem level headed, taken into account that you've been off for the past month after being shot, and that your daughter has been kidnapped."
"Just trying to do my job Spike." I said, as I fast forwarded the video myself, "There. We can barely make out the plate. Zoom in."
Spike went to work as the radio crackled to life. "Spike-" Greg asked, "There's probably a lot of cell phone chatter around here as to why we're here. Anyway of monitoring it from your location- see if anyone else knows anymore information?"
"I can try," Spike replied, "Boss- we got a read on the suspect's vehicle- license number Bravo Mike Bravo Tango Four Six One."
"Copy that. I'll have Winnie run the plates."
I bent down again to inspect the monitor. "Now, lets try to get a description of our suspect- call to police was at 11:21. Ed- when did the police unit arrive on scene?"
Ed replied over the radio, "11:25. Cruiser cameras aren't showing much. All we got is a confirmation that it was Megan who was taken. Suspect was wearing a balaclava, you won't be able to ID him from the camera."
I sighed heavily. Shit. No leads...
"Perra," came Jules' voice, "I'm talking to one of Megan's friends- an Ashley O'Connor, you might want to hear this."
"10-4 Jules." I responded, "Spike you got this?"
Spike gave a nod, as I walked back out of the school and to where Jules and Ashley were standing.
"Hey Ashley." I said in a calm voice, although something inside me wanted to scream it. "How you doing today. I guess there's something you want me to know."
"Yeah. Mr. Perrasmith..."
"Call me Perra."
"Ok- Perra..." she started quizzically, "That car that we saw- I'm pretty sure I've seen it before."
"Where?"
"Here. At school. I'm pretty sure I've seen it almost every day for the past month."
"Ok Ashley- why didn't you report this?"
"I didn't think it was an issue."
"Why's that?"
"Because last week I thought it was strange, so I told Zack and Cody- you know- the football captains?"
"Yea sure."
"So they went over and asked the guy what he was doing here. He told them that he had just moved to the city and that he was looking for a high school for his son."
"And Zack and Cody bought it?"
"What can I say? They're dumb as rocks. I mean, football?"
"Of course." I said, as I walked away with Jules.
We approached the command truck, just as Greg was talking on his cellphone.
"So," I started, talking to Jules, "We have one lead- a license plate, so the most he can do is put out an APB on the vehicle. That could take a while."
"It must be hard." Jules sympathized, "I mean, given the circumstances."
Wow- did the entire team sync up their theories somehow?
Finally Greg hung up.
"We just got something that's going to blow the roof off this call, Perra." he said, as he engaged the radio, "Team One, report to command truck immediately."
"What about an APB?" I asked.
"We shouldn't need it."
"What's going on?" I asked, as Ed, Sam and Spike approached.
"Team meeting- in the truck."
We all looked at each other with puzzled glances as we climbed into the truck. Spike took a seat at his typical spot at the desk, while the rest of us remained standing.
"You might want to sit down for this Perra." Greg started, "Spike- log onto the computer. Winnie sent us a link that we she received in an email sent to SRU."
I grabbed a chair from behind me and sat down.
Spike typed away on the keyboard- navigating through menus and login screens with unbent speed and accuracy.
"This it boss?" Spike asked, as he took the cursor and hovered over the link.
"Yup. Toss it over to the big screen so we can all have a gander."
Two quick button presses.
A black image on the screen. It comes into focus and a flowered print couch can be seen.
Megan. Lying helplessly, bound and gagged on the couch.
Suddenly a disguised man walked into the frame. He's holding a gun.
Looks like a compact 1911- possibly a Sig. Or a Ruger.
His voice resonates through the speakers in the truck.
"You know who I have." he starts, "Megan Perrasmith. The daughter of Kristopher Perrasmith. I want 'officer' Perrasmith, alone, at the corner of Victoria and King. No guns. He will pay for what he has done to me. If you don't- I will kill Megan. Slowly."
He grabbed the camera and pointed it at Megan, who was alert and fighting her bonds.
That's my girl.
"Although," the man said, as he zoomed in on her chest, "That may not be the first thing I do to her."
"Son of a-" I started.
He set down the camera as it remained fixed on Megan. The man quickly removed her gag.
She tried to bite him, but he was too fast for her.
You're a fighter Megan. Fight.
"Anything you want to tell your daddy?" he egged her on.
And with a quiver in her voice, she responded, "Dad...I love you."
She started softly crying into the couch, as she brought her face down.
"I love you." her muffled voice said again, before the screen went black.
FLASHPOINT
A NEW BEGINNING
A djmay71 fanfiction
"Spike- can we get an ISP and trace from the sender of the video?" I asked, as I stood up.
"I can get the original email and link from Winnie- we should have it in half an hour or less- depending on how willing the ISP will release the information."
"We'll get a court order if we have to." Greg started, "Winnie- we got a hit on our plate search in the DMV database?"
"Yeah," she responded over the radio, "Owner of the plate Bravo Mike Bravo Tango Four Six One is one James May- he reported the plates stolen from the vehicle a week ago."
"We can't do much more until we have more intel." Ed added, "Spike- what's our ETA?"
"Looking like another fifteen minutes."
"We're running out of tactical options." Ed thought out loud, "We need to get Perra suited up for the rendezvous."
"You think?" Greg asked, as he wrote some notes down on his writing tablet.
"We split up into two units- I'll shadow Perra at the rendezvous, Jules, Sam and Spike will bust down the door from the intel Spike's working on."
"No-" Greg replied, "No way. If we're going to be doing the rendezvous, he needs more than one shadow Ed."
"What do you suggest?"
"You and Sam will shadow Perra at the rendezvous, from up high. Me, Spike and Jules will dynamically enter the residence that Spike is searching."
"Ok." Ed accepted, "You up for this Perra? It's not exactly ideal, but its our best option."
Me, Ed and Sam took a truck downtown, and parked in an alleyway a few blocks away.
Sam and Ed were going over some last minute tac plans, while I changed behind the truck into some civilian clothes.
In my right ear, I had a covert radio bud, so I would be able to hear the radio chatter from the rest of the team. At the small of my back, I had a concealed holster with one of the most concealable handguns- a Glock 26.
After getting ready, I went around to the other side of the truck.
"So what's the plan?" I asked.
Sam put the tablet he was working on down on the hood of the truck- "Here's the corner of Victoria and King. These two upper-tier buildings, set behind here on Victoria- that's where we'll be. We also called in Team Six- they're enforcing a soft perimeter around the surrounding four blocks. There will be some people in and out, but it'll be at the discretion of Team Six, and if our guy takes off, we can pursue."
"Good plan, Sam." I commented.
"It's what I do."
"Ok-" Ed interrupted, "We're going to get into position from the back alleys. When we're 10 seconds away from posts, we'll radio you. That will be your cue to start your walk."
"We got Spike on standby for identification?"
"10-4." Ed replied, as he knocked on the long distance photo lens attached to his vest, "Sam, lets move out."
They weren't gone for a minute when I heard a voice over the radio.
"We got an ID from the ISP trace," Spike started, "Belonging to...can I get a drum roll?"
If only I could reply to the smart ass remark.
"Spike!" came Jules, "Stop screwing around."
"Its a disposable connection. A temporary one. Usually paid for with a credit card, and only in use for a few days."
"And?"
"Card belongs to an Irene McLeod."
"Could possibly be stolen." summarized Greg, "We approach with caution."
Finally, the Spike-Greg conversation stopped, and just in time, as both Ed and Sam radioed in for their 10 second mark.
That was my cue, as I exited the alley, as I walked down King street, towards the corner of Victoria. Suddenly, my years of security surveillance kicked in.
No suspicious persons- yet. Two people across the street walking dogs. Most likely not him, but we can't rule them out just yet.
As I approached the corner, a man jumped up from a bench and approached me.
"Kristopher Perrasmith." he said calmly.
Play dumb.
"Sorry, do I know you?"
"I believe you do. I'm the guy who knows where your daughter is."
"You do..." I replied.
"That's right." the man said, as he drew a handgun from his waistband, "You're going to pay for what you did to me."
"Look, I don't know..."
"Eight years ago...2004," the started, "Get on your knees!"
"Perra- we found Megan!" came Jules' voice over the radio, "Hostage secured."
Complying, with my hands raised, I bent down to my knees.
"I don't know who you are."
"Micheal Deary." the man exclaimed, "Arrested by the goddamn almightly Border Services!"
Then I remembered.
I was working night shift at one of the busiest port of entries in Canada, which also happened to be a hotspot of criminal activity.
I had just finished performing a vehicle inspection of a family's car, when another car rolled into my inspection bay.
A middle aged man got out, and looked around, then at me. I instructed him to go inside and to await further instructions. I didn't have to look too hard- there was a blanket over out forty handguns, and 10 rifles in the trunk. In the glove box, I had found pictures of young women with prices attached to them. After taking pictures of the hard evidence- I walked into the building, and arrested Micheal Deary on the spot for illegal importation of firearms and for attempted human trafficking.
I knew it was me. Play dumb.
"I, I think you got the wrong person."
"No! No I don't!" he exclaimed, "Border Services Officer Kristopher Perrasmith!"
Ok- he's figured it out.
"Look man, that was eight years ago. I'm was just doing my job."
"Shut up!" Deary yelled, as he drew back the slide on the handgun, which loaded a cartridge into the chamber, "I had a daughter too, and because of you, she doesn't know who I am! You're going to pay for what you did to me Officer- I'm going to kill you..."
I felt the muzzle of the handgun brush up against my temple, but then he aimed it back down, "Your daughter, will, one day, forget who her father was."
The handgun started to come back up, but it never made it.
I suddenly felt the percussion of a 7.62x51mm bullet, travelling at close to 3000 feet per second enter the brain of Micheal Deary.
The handgun never managed to fall to the ground.
Instead of instinctively covering my ears, as I had just heard an object flying no more than four feet away from me break the sound barrier, my hands grabbed for the midair handgun, and in two swift motions, cleared both the magazine and the round in the chamber.
Just another day at work.
Just two minutes after the shot was taken, Ed was back on street level. After covering up Deary's body with a thin blanket, he came and sat down beside me on the nearby bench.
"Why don't you go?"
"Go where?" I asked.
"St. Pats. Megan was found unconscious, with some minor skin wounds at the house. They'll probably bust out the rape kit. You should be there."
"Thanks Ed."
"No problem," he said, with a wink, as he tossed me the keys to one of the SRU trucks, "Turn on the lights."
After parking in the few spots reserved for police and emergency personnel at the hospital, I ran in and immediately started to question the triage nurses as to where my daughter was.
"Back of the line." the male nurse said to me.
"I'm not here for treatment. I'm here to see my daughter."
"What's her name?" he asked, as he administered an injection of a numbing agent to a patient that was going to need stitches.
"Megan. Megan Perrasmith."
He looked at the nearby clipboard. "No Perrasmith's in my ER."
"Of course she's not going to be in ER dumbass- she's probably in a private room."
"If she's in a private room, you can't see her. Thus the private part."
"I'm her father."
Getting no where, and as the nurse was ready to verbally scold me for asking too many questions, I walked away and started wandering the hospital.
"Kris?"
I turned around- as I recognized the short form of my first name.
Chantal Sewell. One of my former security co-workers, who had become a nurse.
"Hey, Chantal- could you do me favour?"
"Anything for my old supervisor. Still going to give me a good reference?"
"You bet I will Sewell. Could you tell me where my daughter is- Megan Perrasmith?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, "I was actually just going to stop by her room, and start the pelvic examination."
She guided me to the room.
The blinds were drawn shut, and Haley was sitting in a chair outside the room.
"Haley..."I whispered loudly as I took her in my arms and wrapped my arms around her body.
"I'm going to go in and start the examination." Chantal said, as she opened the door, "One of you is welcome to join us."
We both nodded 'no'.
"Listen, Haley, I should..." I started, as she sat down, as I crouched down, to remain level with her.
"I can't do this anymore Kris." Haley stuttered, as a lone tear began to smear her perfect face, "I can't live each day wondering if you're going to come home in one piece, or if I'm going to be called down to the morgue to identify you with a thousand bullet holes in your chest. I can't live in fear or paranoia that one of the criminals from your past will try to hurt myself or my kids."
"What are you saying Haley?"
"I want a divorce."
I bowed my head down, and held back a few tears of my own. The woman I've spent the last sixteen years of my life with no longer loves me...
"Mr. & Mrs. Perrasmith?" Chantal asked, as she came through the door.
"Yes?" I asked.
"There is no evidence of abuse, rape or sexual entry. Your daughter's fine."
I stood up.
"Thanks- I'll see you around Chantal." I said, as I started to walk away.
'I want a divorce' were the words playing over and over in my mind.
Where to go? Home? The place that reminds me of the first woman I ever truly cared about wants a divorce? Back to the hospital room? That'll be just a reminder that I couldn't do the one thing I promised myself I would do when I became a cop- protect my family.
Then it hit me.
My job is all I have. Everything else- its either gone, or inanimate. My car? Inanimate. My family- gone.
After driving around for what seemed like hours, but was really only twenty minutes, it seemed I knew where I was going- to work.
I parked the car and stood outside.
Ed's Ford is gone. Sam's motorcycle is no where to be found. The team must've debriefed and went home.
Good.
I went in, and went to the locker rooms, and changed into my base exercise layer. After that, I meandered into the gym.
I looked over to the dispatcher's desk. Based on the frantic pace he was working at, team eight must have their hands full.
Finding myself near the punching bag, I initially just lightly punched it playfully, but that turned into gut-wrenching, powerful punches that rocked the mounted chain back and forth.
Pound that loser of a bag. Pound it! Pound it!
I could feel beads of sweat rolling down my forehead and onto my cheeks. I never bothered to put on boxing gloves, or to tape my hands, so I was starting to feel the effects of what was most likely going to be brutal bruises on my knuckles and hands.
Then suddenly, I heard a voice from behind me- "You break it, you bought it" which nearly scared me half to death, but I collected my wits fairly quickly and turned around.
"Kiera." I muttered, as she approached me, "We shouldn't..."
"I know." she said, as she took my one hand and was looking it over, "You're going to be bruised tomorrow."
"I know, Kiera." I responded, "What do you want?"
She looked into my eyes, "I want to apologize. About what happened. I feel horrible about it. I was...I know you have every right to hate me."
"Just forget about it Kiera. What's done is done- there's nothing we can do to fix the past."
"Spoken like someone who's tried."
I smirked, "Yeah, I've tried alright."
Kiera smiled. "I heard about your call. Did you want to get a drink before heading home- I'll buy?"
"No, thanks Kiera."
I repositioned my body to the punching bag, as I used my forearm to swipe off the sweat on my brow.
"You are going home, right?" she asked.
"Sometime."
"I'll see you later then." Kiera yelled out, as she left the gym.
A/N: As you can tell, this was an emotionally charged chapter. Some other things I'd like to point out- this chapter was very difficult for me to write. It wasn't the context that made it so, it was the fact that I had lost confidence, and therefore a long term perspective of this fanfiction. After watching a few dozen episodes of Flashpoint, I re-motivated myself to continue on. As well- a lot of people may think I'm writing this to satisfy the tacticool ninja in myself, which I have to admit, it does satisfy, but I write for the characters. The characters of Flashpoint make it the show, and my hats go off to the fabulous writers of one of TV's greatest crime-drama procedural.