Grasping Steve's uninjured right arm in one hand and an aluminum bat in the other, Bain led the stunned detective back to the small black Datsun sedan. They would soon be on their way back to the camp.

Marfisi looked over to his prisoner as he was forced in the back seat. "Nothing personal, kid. It's your old man who's done this."

Steve didn't respond, but cradled his left wrist which was numb and quickly swelling. He looked out the window, up and down both sides of the street. No one was in sight. The old country road with a shuttered gas station had only an operable payphone, ostensibly there to help the stranded traveler.

Mike's face had broken out in a cold sweat. He pulled a handkerchief to blot his forehead and neck. His mind was replaying what he had just heard: a scuffle, a slamming sound and piercing anguish followed footfalls away from the receiver before Marfisi ended the call.

"Are you okay, Mike?" Detective Norm Haseejian asked.

"Yeah," he said faintly followed by a stronger and dismissive reply. "Yeah, I'm fine. You said that the call came from out of the city? Do you know where?"

"Only that it's from within the state," Norm responded knowing that his answer was not satisfactory.

"All right, let's put out an APB on Steve. He's the only one we have an ID on. I want every cop in the state looking for him," he said with determination. "Now, I went someone posted at the warehouse at Fifth and Prescott…"

Smith interrupted. "You heard what he said, 'No cops'. What if they see your guys there?"

Mike glared at his partner's father. "Our men know how to blend into the background."

After a few more seconds of Mike's intense focus, Smith spoke. "Look, I'm sorry he's in this mess. I know it's because of me." Smith paced across the room. "I was never father of the year. A guy like me shouldn't have kids. I'm a - what do the kids say today? - I'm a free spirit. After Steve was born, I decided to hit the road. Nothing against the kid, but it was all too much and so I left."

Stone remained quiet, but Haseejian couldn't resist. "You left your wife and kids high and dry? Didn't you feel an obligation?"

Smith let out a quick chuckle. "No, I didn't feel an obligation. I felt duped. His mother trapped me. As I got shipped off to South Pacific, I learned she was pregnant. I ended up marrying her by proxy on the ship. Her father stood in for me. So when I got back, there was this ready made family."

Smith gauged his audience and realized that he needed to say more. "I did try, you know. I came back and thought maybe I could change. Their mother tried every trick in the book to make it work, including having another kid. But that's all it was – just a bunch of tricks. She did everything she could to keep me, God bless her, but I just felt trapped. Then one day, about three years later, we split for good. After we had our last fight, she took my car and the kids and then just shot out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. Next thing I knew, the cops are banging on my door. She ran a red light, and she and the girl were killed. Steve was in the back seat of the car and other than being banged up a bit, he was unharmed."

Mike shifted his stance as Smith described the accident. "And suddenly, there I was: a widower with a three year old. This ain't 'The Courtship of Eddie's Father', you know. I'm no good for a damned three year old, so I sent him to live with his mother's parents. And they did a good job, a real good job, of raising him."

Haseejian commented, "You lost your daughter."

Smith softened. "She was a cutie. She looked like her mom," he said almost dreamily before turning defensive. "But there was nothing I could do then to bring her back and there's nothing I can do now."

Mike started, "Steve…"

"Steve hates me. He has nothing to do with me and quite frankly, that's fine. I tried to stay in touch, but it's like talking to a bucket of ice. I'm sure he blames me for his mom's accident. And being raised by her parents, they probably didn't give him any reason to think otherwise. I sent him away for his own good, but they turned him against me."

"You know what I think, Smith?" Mike asked rhetorically. "At some point, you have to be man enough to own your situation. I'm sure she didn't get pregnant by herself. So, I don't think Steve needed to hear anything about you from anyone. Your actions through the years were all he needed to see."

"Easy for you to judge. You're a cop, just like he is. That's all you do: you sit on your fat ass and wait for some poor schlep to make a mistake. Then you come in like the damned cavalry and throw the book at the guy. And all on the taxpayers' dime, I might add."

"Smith, I am trying to save your son right now. I would think that might matter here," Mike stepped forward carefully with his fists tightened.

"You don't stand a chance. The minute they took him, it was all over. There's nothing you can do to stop it."

Mike grabbed Smith by the lapels and threw the man back into the wall. "You listen to me. We are going to find him and we are going to bring him back alive. I won't accept any other outcome."

Haseejian's eyes widened at the altercation. Whatever happens, I didn't see nothin', Norm thought as he silently cheered for Mike.

"And I'll tell you what, Mr. Stokowski," Mike added with emphasis on Smith's real name, "if Steve doesn't come back alive, I will take you apart piece by piece. You'll be praying that the goons from Little Monaco find you and take you back."

The night was cold and the vinyl of the tint did nothing to provide warmth. Steve's arm ached beyond belief, but it was the last thing on his mind. He knew that Bain and Marfisi would kill him without blinking. They were there to do a job and no matter what, they would see the job to the end.

I'm not going to wait around and get my skull bashed in. He thought about Mike and because of the phone call, knew for certain that his partner was doing everything he could to save him. Steve also knew that even if the ransom was paid, chances were he'd be killed or left to die in the wilderness. His only chance was to escape.

The young detective carefully protected his injured wrist as he knelt at the front of the tent. He stuck his finger by the zipper and lowered it slightly to see what he could see. In front of him was the black sedan. To the right were Marfisi and Bain around a roaring campfire having a couple of beers. It had to be a waiting game. One would take the night watch, while the other slept. But chances were both would finally dose off, especially after a beer or two.

This could be his chance. He would just have to wait it out.