"Kyle, what are you doing here?"
The young man got up quickly from the chair in which he had been seated in, "Calleigh, I came here to see Dad, where is he?"
The two CSIs entered the room as Eric closed the door behind them, "Was he expecting you back? He never mentioned anything to us about it."
"I talked to him on Skype a couple of weeks ago, my unit weren't due to return home until next month but we had a change of orders, I thought I'd surprise Dad. Where is he?"
Calleigh regarded the young man in front of her, dressed in his army uniform with his hair unkempt he looked like he had literally just stepped off the plane. Although his eyes appeared tired the sparkling blue orbs were unmistakably those of his father.
Kyle could sense the unease in his father's colleagues and a sense of fear began to grow that everything was not as it should have been. He stood to his full height and placed his hands on his hips in a pale imitation of his father, "What aren't you telling me?"
She opened her mouth to speak before Eric interjected, "Kyle, I think you better sit down."
He had no idea how long he had been laying on the cold, damp floor but he could feel the coolness of it begin to sink into his skin. He had tried and failed to shake the hood from his head, stopping after only a few minutes of trying as the repetitive movements caused a sharp pain to lance through his skull. He had spent more time trying to loosen the bindings on his wrists but had given up on that too at the stinging pain it caused and so he lay still and quiet on the dirty floor.
The talk with Andy that morning had exhausted him, the negative emotions it had conjured had ate away at what little energy he had been able to muster when he rose that morning. Escaping would be futile; he could barely walk a few feet on his own let alone fight off a gang of criminals. He realised then that Calleigh was right, and as much as it pained him to admit it he would need her and her team's help to get him out of this.
No one's coming, old man. You're on your own, just like always. He didn't bother to argue with the voice in his head, he knew it was right. From what he had been told by those around him he had brought this whole sorry mess on himself and there would be no escaping whatever justice the Malucci's decided was fit for his crimes against them. A cowardly part of him prayed that it would be a quick and merciful death but after hearing how he had betrayed the crime syndicate he knew their retribution would not be swift, they intended to make him suffer before they ended his life.
And so he lay on the floor for what seemed like hours, in the darkness time had lost all meaning. The room in which he was being held prisoner had no windows and he had no idea whether it was night or day, he idly wondered if anyone even knew he was missing, or cared for that matter. Maybe allowing the Malucci's to settle their score against him would be best for all concerned, since he had woken all he had done was bring pain and suffering to those around him, the very people he had sworn to protect. He had brought misery into the life of his sweet angel, Calleigh, he could see the emotional and physical toll it was taking on her and decided that it would be for the best if he left her life for good.
Time passed slowly until he heard the door being unlocked, scrambling to the other end of the room in an ungainly fashion he attempted to pull himself up against the wall in the hopes that it would afford even just a little protection instead of being jumped on by surprise. Through the fabric of the hood he could make out a light source coming from outside the door and winced as his eyes adjusted to the change. He heard rather than saw the pair of heavy boots making their way towards him and held his arms protectively over his abdomen should another vicious kick be sent his way.
"Get up," the voice commanded as the black-booted man stood mere inches from him. Being denied the sense of sight he tried to hone his other senses in order to gleam some sort of idea as to who his visitor might be. The voice was deep but with a decidedly nasal twang and the accent was unmistakably that of a Brooklyn native.
He knew why they were keeping the hood on his head, sensory deprivation had been used as proven torture technique designed to keep the subject disorientated and isolated from the world around them. The loss of one or more of the senses could have a damaging effect and he knew his captors wanted him to suffer before they put an end to his life.
He heard the stranger above him huff heavily and then grab him painfully by both forearms pulling him into a standing position. He felt a wave of dizziness come over him as he stood in an upright position for the first time in what seemed like days, he swallowed deeply and tried to resist the urge to vomit over his companion's shoes as to do so would likely result in another swift hit to the stomach.
Stumbling and tripping as a heavy hand gripped tightly onto his right shoulder he walked as best he could as he was led out of the room. He felt as if he were being taken round and round in circles as his path veered from the right and then back to the left again, finally the hand that was painfully grabbing his shoulder released and he found himself pushed into another room, one that was well lit. Again he heard footsteps coming towards him but could not make out the image of his captor, he stumbled again as he was pulled by the front of his t-shirt and forcibly pushed down into a chair. He heard the ties around his wrists being cut open but did not have time to move them before he felt his arms being pulled viciously behind his back and secured tightly to the chair. Suddenly the harsh lighting of the room assaulted his eyes as the hood was pulled from his head, his pupils dilating so suddenly it hurt as he tried to focus his gaze on something, anything.
The man standing in front of him gave his cheek a light tap as he crouched down to his eye level, "Hello, Detective Kelly. You're a hard man to track down aren't you?" the cold voice mocked.
He squinted as his vision began to return to normal and he took a good look at the person in front of him, he knew he'd seen those cold, grey eyes somewhere before but couldn't place them no matter how hard he tried. It was only when he saw the man sneer that he recalled where he had seen those cruel eyes before. Benny Malucci.
Kyle sat silently, leaning heavily against the desk in his father's office, struggling to comprehend what he had just been told. Shock had caused his mouth to gape open and closed several times before he tried to speak. "Where is he?" was about the only coherent sentence he could form.
Eric shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to another, "They ambushed the house and took him. We're trying to track them down now."
Kyle shot up from the chair and brought himself face to face with the bulky Cuban. "You're trying, you're trying?! You need to do better than that, get your asses out there and find him!" he shouted.
Sensing the high level of tension between the two men Calleigh interjected in an attempt to calm their rising tempers. "Kyle, we're doing everything we can to find him. We'll work round the clock until we bring him home, I promise."
He stood there breathing heavily, staring at Eric until he felt his anger start to recede. He turned his head towards Calleigh and she was shocked by the look of fear in the young man's cool blue eyes. "What if you're too late and they've killed him already?"
"Your father is strong, Kyle. He won't give up without a fight," she told him quietly, praying to herself that she was right.