Head notes: Sorry it's been taking so long lately. I didn't have access to my tablet for a while and then school started which added a whole other ingredient into the mix. I hope you still like it. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

Harold froze in his chair as John's warning sunk in. Part of him hoped that Mr. Reese was mistaken. But the rational part of his mind knew that John would not deliver such news unless he was absolutely certain that it was true. It made Finch feel vulnerable when people were able to track him so easily.

"Get out now," the last echo of Mr. Reese's warning sounded in his ear as he snapped out of it.

With energy born of desperation, he bolted out of the chair and limped into the front room where Ms. Teeger and Mr. Monk were waiting.

"We need to leave," he announced. "Whoever is trying to kill you knows where we are. He's on his way."

Monk stumbled back in fear and Natalie stood up from the couch.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"Just follow me," he said, moving to open the door. "Don't make any noise and don't stop to take anything. Not even your phone."

Harold carefully peered out the door to make sure no one was out there then silently motioned for Mr. Monk and Ms. Teeger to follow him. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could, despite his limping leg, Monk and Natalie practically pressing themselves against him as they followed.

He made his way to the stairwell, knowing that Mr. Monk would prefer that. He turned the corner but froze as he caught sight of a tall man in a jacket. The man smirked as he caught sight of the three of them and reached into his jacket.

"Run!" he ordered. He pushed Monk and Natalie back around the corner ahead of him as the man pulled out a silenced weapon. A whistle passed dangerously close to his ear as he tried to limp faster.

XxXxXxXx

John slammed on the gas as soon as Julie slid into the backseat. There was a very small chance he would make it there in time to save them. He pulled out his phone and looked through the contacts on Natalie's phone then dialed a number.

"Captain Stottlemeyer," the man answered.

"Monk is in trouble, Leland," John said. "He needs you. They all do."

"What- who is this?" He asked. There was a slight pause as Stottlemeyer realized who he was talking to. John could hear Stottlemeyer's eyes narrowing. "How did you get this number?" He demanded.

"It doesn't matter right now, The only thing that's important is that you go to help them."

"Go where?"

John gave him the address of the apartment building. "Go now!" John ordered. "And don't stop for anything."

He hung up and pressed down harder on the gas.

XxXxXxXx

Harold panted as he tried to keep up with Monk and Natalie. He had managed keep them ahead of the hit man but he suspected that their luck would run out soon. If he could find somewhere for them to hide, perhaps he could serve as a diversion.

He threw his eyes around the hall, looking for a something, anything that would help. A janitorial closet on the right hand side of the looked promising.

"Mr. Monk, Ms. Teeger," he called. "Hide in here."

An assortment of dirty and clean mops hung next to five brooms with dusty ends met their eyes. A strong chemical odor from an unemptied mop bucket filled their nostrils. Mr. Monk looked inside the closet as if a dog had messed in it.

"I can't hide in there," he whispered.

Natalie grabbed Mr. Monk's arm and pulled him inside.

"Yes you can, Mr. Monk." She whispered encouragingly. She looked back at Harold. "What about you?" She asked him.

Harold didn't answer. He merely looked at her calmly. "Stay quiet no matter what you hear." He said before closing the door.

He turned and started limping away from the closet Monk and Natalie were hiding in. If this was going to work, he had to lead the hit man away from them.

That objective proved unfruitful as the hit man stepped out from the corner, his gun raised to his hip. Harold stopped short as his breath caught in his throat. Well, this is it, he thought. There's no way out of this.

"Where is Adrian Monk?" The hit man asked casually and deliberately.

XxXxXxXx

Natalie stayed absolutely quiet as she stood next to Mr. Monk it the closet. So far, Mr. Monk was doing okay. But she knew from experience that he wouldn't last long in such a small space.

"Ohh," he moaned beside her.

She could only imagine what he was thinking. First being stuffed in a closet full of dirty cleaning supplies and it was dark. Despite being sympathetic about Mr. Monk's feelings she knew he had to be quiet.

She reached out and rubbed his arm reassuringly.

"It's okay, Mr. Monk." She whispered quietly. Then turned her attention to what was happening in the hall.

XxXxXxXx

Harold looked the hit man straight in the eye his back equally so .

"They left," he lied. "I told them to go on without me and find a way out. I can only assume they did so."

"And where were they headed?" The hitman asked.

"That is a question I refuse to answer," Harold said just as dangerously.

The hit man didn't seem surprised. He just smiled and brought the gun up so that it rested inches from Harold's forehead.

"Then I have no use for you," he said.

At that moment they both heard a cry of despair and Finch closed his eyes as he realized that Mr. Monk must have given in to his fears if just for a moment. Unfortunately, a moment was all it took for the hit man to figure it out.

"They left, huh," he said, taking his eyes off Harold for a moment.

Knowing it would be fruitless to go up against a professional hit man, Harold launched his two fingers towards the man's eyes. The man caught movement at the last second and a vice-like grip seized Harold's wrist tight enough to crush the bones if he wanted to. Harold cried out as the hit man used Harold's momentum to twist his arm and throw him onto the floor. Pain shot through his back he landed hard on his side.

"Run!" he shouted, noticing Natalie peeking out the door.

The hit man heard his warning and turned around raising his weapon to take a shot at them.

Pushing himself off the floor, he launched his whole body at the back of the man's knees. The impact sent a jolt of pain ripping down his spine. It didn't knock him over as Harold had hoped it would; the hit man's muscles were far too disciplined for that. But it did throw him off-balance. The silenced gunshot barely missed Mr. Monk and Ms. Teeger as they escaped around the corner.

The hit man kicked Harold away from him and looked down at Harold with sizzling fury. He was no longer amused. Harold was too busy trying to catch his breath and manage his pain to notice as the gun once again pointed at him.

A gunshot rang out and Harold looked up, expecting to see Mr. Reese once again just in time to save the day.

It was Captain Stottlemeyer. The captain slowly lowered his gun as he looked at Harold. Harold nodded at him and went to push himself up again.

When he had managed to push himself up to his knees he went to push against the wall, his back protesting his every movement.

Once he had succeeded in getting up he looked back at Captain Stottlemeyer.

Captain," he heard Ms. Teeger call out.

She and Mr. Monk peeked back around the corner.

"It's safe to come out," the captain announced.

Harold started as he heard a gasp from behind him and turned around. The hit man was still alive, but only just. Harold stepped closer to him.

"Who hired you?" He asked.

The man tried to laugh but it looked more like a grimace.

"Boy, nothing rattles you does it?" He commented.

"Who hired you?" Harold repeated. "I have tools to figure it out, and I will with or without your assistance. Unless you'd like to save us the trouble and tell us of your own volition."

The man shuddered as a new wave of pain hit him.

"Good luck," he gasped as his heart gave out. He was still smiling.

Finch shook his head and went to kneel over the dead man.

"What were you thinking?" Natalie asked, stepping up to him. "He could have killed you."

"Occupational hazard, Ms. Teeger," he replied calmly, searching the man's pockets for his phone.

"And what occupation is that exactly?" Captain Stottkemeyer asked.

Harold pulled his hand out of the pocket and studied the phone in his hand. It was a burner phone. But even a burner phone could provide a little information upon persuation.

"Right now," he said in response to Stottlemeyer's question, "pulling the information from the hit man's phone."

"That phone is evidence," Stottlemeyer said.

"You can have it as soon as I'm finished," Harold replied.

"You do anything to that phone, you're tampering with evidence," Stottlemeyer threatened.

"Hit men rarely operate of their own accord," Harold stated. "If we don't find the man who hired him, our killer can simply hire someone else to do the job. The only way to stop the attacks against Mr. Monk is to find out who wants him dead and why."

"You seem to know a lot about this," Stottlemeyer said.

"I've been doing this for a long time. Now are we going to continue to debate the ethics of a crime scene or are you going to let me do what I can?"

Captain Stottlemeyer stood for a moment then shrugged and nodded.

"Good, now if you'd like you may join us in the apartment, " Harold invited. He turned and walked back toward the apartment.

XxXxXxXxX

End notes: Thank you so much for your patience. It's getting harder to write on a regular basis. But please tell me what you think.