Captain Adam Fuller was getting worried. None of his officers had checked in, and it was nearing closing time for the Chapel. It wasn't like the quartet to leave him out of the loop, no matter how unorthodox they sometimes got. He was just about to call headquarters when the phone on his desk broke the oppressive silence. He picked it up instantly, eyes narrowing as he heard the telltale beeps of a scrambler.
"Hello?" he asked uncertainly.
"We have them Captain. Meet us in the Westside Park at 8:30 tonight, and you might get them back alive." The unidentified caller hung up just as abruptly as he spoke.
Fuller slammed the phone back into it's cradle. Everybody else in the building had already left, leaving Blowfish and him to close up. He was waiting for a report when he should have been looking for his colleagues.
"Damn it!" the man bellowed. He rubbed a tired hand over his face and picked up the phone again, dialing HQ.
Doug was almost free of his bonds. He had heard Tom yell upon his return to consciousness, but all had been quiet sense, levying an air of unease under the young cop. He struggled with his wrists, breathing slowly and shallowly in an attempt to conserve his air, when he finally heard a snap and brought his hands up to bear. His watch told him they had been in this car for over five hours and had only stopped once. He could only hope Hanson was still alive. Five hours with a gunshot wound that hadn't been treated would mean infection could have very well set in, and coupled with blood loss, could be more dangerous than the wound itself.
With a sense of urgency borne of desperation, Penhall started banging on the trunk of the old Buick when he couldn't find a trunk release on the outdated model. The car skidded to a stop and his head slammed into the back of the car. He heard car doors slam and a loud moan that sounded like it could only be his beleaguered partner. At least he was conscious, Doug thought with a surge of hope.
When sunlight filtered into the dark space, his eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the strong light. He was roughly pulled out and forced to his knees by the men. He yelled in pain from his cramped legs, and to alert Hanson that he was free. Doug hated having to spur Tom to action, but it was the only way for both of them to get out of there. When they forced his forehead to the bumper and his hands back behind him again, a crack split the air as if charged by lightning, and Tom Hanson stumbled to the back with the car holding him up. He brandished the .45 surprisingly steadily with his good arm.
"Let him go." The steely words left his mouth with none of the weakness that his body was betraying.
The two kidnappers looked at each other in disgust. Both officers noted that Score was not present, and that there must have been a switch off the last time they stopped. One with greasy black hair and beady eyes pointed back to Tom, who was noticeably trying to quell nausea as he held the gun on them.
"I though you said he was out. What happened to 'he's lucky to be alive' huh?" As the other one prepared to argue, they made the mistake both prisoners were waiting for. The one holding Penhall had released his hold, and paid for it with his consciousness. With him down for the count Doug turned to the other one to see him run into the woods. He was about to go after him when he saw Tom stumble and drop the gun.
Apparently, he had used up what little energy he had, and Doug noted the sweat dropping from the long dark bangs. He was barely able to catch Tom as he dropped. Penhall then realized how much just escaping their captors had taken out of Tom, and his heart dropped as he saw the blood on the younger mans jacket just below the collarbone. It appeared that the bullet had gone right through, and blood still dripped sluggishly down Hanson's back from the exit wound. Heat radiated from the shoulder and Doug knew that infection had indeed set in with a vengeance. As Tom's pain-glazed eyes rolled into his head he could only whisper a fervent prayer when the now familiar sound of a gunshot filled the air.