They had all stayed at the office that night, trying desperately to cling to the idea that I was all right and that this was just a big hoax. None of them had succeeded though. Josiah studied the faces of the others. Every one of the men he worked with was sullen, depressed, and terribly frustrated. They stayed because one of their own was missing, but there were absolutely no clues for them to follow up on, nothing for them to do. The condo had not given them a single clue except for the blood. As Ezra had said, something was fishy. The only thing they all agreed on, was that I was missing. Vin was in denial, refusing to even consider that I might be dead. Chris seemed to be positive that I was dead and that it somehow was his fault, although nothing stood out to even remotely suggest that. Nathan, the medical expert of Team 7, kept going over and over the photos of the crime scene, trying to figure out what could have lead to so much blood being shed in the bedroom. Ezra, their undercover expert, whom they normally couldn’t get to stop prattling on and on, had not said a word in over six hours. He seemed to be withdrawing from the others, which unfortunately, wasn’t unusual. They would all give their right arms to have I come strolling down the hallway right this second, bidding them all a good morning.

‘Don’t think that way, Josiah. You know that’s not going to happen. Someone is screwing with your minds. Someone very good at it with the resources to pull this off. You have to get them off their butts and up doing something, anything!’ Josiah thought. "Let’s go back to the condo. Maybe we missed something last night. We know he was going on a date with Valerie. I say we start there. How about it, Vin? Ezra?"

"Yeah, that’s an idea. Buck’s got to have black books with his ladies’ names and numbers. No one could remember all those names, let alone numbers. Let’s see if we can find her, at least it’ll give us a place to start. Come on, Ez, come with us." Vin jumped up, ready to do anything that might be productive.

Ezra nodded and grabbed his coat. He followed the other two toward the elevators. He never looked up and he was dragging his feet. His mind was racing through every case they’d had since he arrived on the scene two years ago. He couldn’t come up with anyone that might fit Josiah’s extremely sketchy profile.

Nathan looked around at the empty desks. His eyes settled briefly on their youngest member’s desk. It was very neat, everything put away and Nathan smiled slightly. Normally, J.D.’s desk was a mess, just as his and Buck’s home normally was. J.D. never seemed to put anything away. Nathan had seen Buck filing papers and case folders away for him, probably like he picked up after him in their condo. Buck would have made sure that J.D. had everything put away before he went on vacation or Chris would have been upset with the young agent when he returned. Nathan made a mental note to try calling J.D. again. None of them had been able to reach the kid. He really needed to be told.

Nathan’s gaze traveled to and stayed on the desk of the office clown. He knew that somewhere in the drawers of that desk there was a rubber chicken, plastic vomit, and probably a whoopee cushion. Beside the computer terminal sat a picture frame. In the frame was a picture of the seven of them, taken right after an extremely successful raid. They were all standing in front of a pile of automatic weapons. It had been a very proud day for all of them, but especially for Buck, who had orchestrated the bust. On the edge of Buck’s desk were his mail boxes, which were overflowing, blending into one another. An ATF baseball cap rested on the corner of the desk. By the telephone, two giant rolodexes sat, one with business contacts, the other with personal contacts. Both were stuffed. On the back of the chair was a bumper sticker that read, IF YOU’RE CLOSE ENOUGH TO READ THIS with a large middle finger sticking up.

Nathan felt tears welling in his eyes. How could Buck possibly be gone? They had just been laughing, teasing each other on Friday afternoon. Nathan remembered Buck almost dragging the kid out the office on Friday, telling him that Casey was waiting. If anything could get Buck moving, it was a woman, even if she wasn’t his. And now, it was possibly a woman who had been responsible for his disappearance. Maybe he’d be a little more selective after this. Nathan turned back to his computer screen and let the tears fall unheeded down his face.

The telephone on Chris Larabee’s desk had rung four times before he found the desire to answer it. He seemed to be in a dense gray fog where nothing made sense. There was nothing ahead of him, nothing behind him. All the world was the same color, texture, scent. He wanted nothing to do with any of it. He just wanted to curl into a ball and make it all go away. Irritated, he reached for the receiver and picked it up.

"Larabee." Chris’s voice was flat, emotionless.

"Hey Chris, it’s Jerry Dunbar." Captain Gerald Dunbar of the Denver Police Department had gone to the academy with both I and Chris. Both of them had always liked Jerry. He was a straight arrow with brains. He now was the head of major crimes and had taken a personal interest in this case.

"I was going to call you, Jerry. Three of my men are headed over to the condo to go through I’s black books, try to locate this woman he went out with Friday. We can’t come up with anything else."

"Sounds all right to me. I’ll radio the guys watching the place. Chris, I’ve got some interesting news that I think will make you feel a little better. The lab report came back on the blood you guys found. It’s not Buck’s blood! In fact, it’s not human blood at all. It’s horse blood, like in the Godfather."

"What?"

"Horse blood, when he found the head in his bed, remember?"

"It’s not Buck’s blood?"

"Yeah, it’s not Buck’s. That’s good news, right?"

"Why would anyone do that, Jerry? Why would someone go to all that bother to make us think that Buck is dead? Where in the blue blazes is he?"

"That I don’t know, Chris. That’s the bad news, I’m afraid. There are no other clues as far as we can tell. We combed through it all last night and then I had the techs go over it again this morning. I know nobody disappears into thin air but that’s all we’ve got so far. Sorry, Chris."

"What you did come up with is something, I guess. Keep digging, Jerry. Somebody had to see something!"

"Will do, Chris. Let me know if I can help your guys at all. Keep your fingers crossed, Sarge." Jerry hung up.

Chris made his way out into the bullpen. He sat down heavily beside the tall black man, the solitary figure in the room. He slumped noticeably in the chair.

"It was horse’s blood," he softly exclaimed, still not believing it.

Nathan was stunned. "Horse’s blood? What the hell was horse’s blood doing spread all over Buck’s bedroom?" Nathan stopped. He looked at their leader. "Chris, that means that Buck’s probably all right. He wasn’t hurt like we thought."

"It doesn’t mean that at all, Nate. It just means he wasn’t wounded in the condo. He’s still gone, and in order to hold onto I, he’d have to be hurt, hog tied, and gagged, … or dead. If it was the woman, she would’ve had to have killed him or he’d have talked his way free by now. He can smooth talk any lady I know, except maybe Inez." Chris sat forward, his head in his hands. "The last time I talked to him, Nate, he didn’t sound right. He sounded, I don’t know, bummed out I guess. Do you think maybe he didn’t want to come out to the ranch Sunday and he just didn’t know how to say no?"

Nathan studied the man sitting beside him and wondered, ‘How could our leader be so smart about detective work and yet be so dense when it came to Buck’ He hesitated because he wanted to state his thoughts just right. He took a deep breath and answered, "I think that he was thrilled that you asked him out to spend a day with just you. Do you have any idea just how much that man loves you, Chris? Do you know to what lengths he would go for you?"

Chris looked up at him silently. He studied Nathan’s face and then shook his head.

Nathan sighed. "He loves you so much, he’s willing to step aside and let you have your time with Vin. He loves you so much that when you need to vent your anger, when you need to strike someone, which is how you deal with life, Chris, he’s willing to be your punching bag. He knows that’s what you need to survive right now. You need him to be your foil, when you’re angry, he’s calm, when you’re serious, he’s the clown. And you know what, Chris, right now, he needs you to do the same for him. He’s defenseless, you be strong. He’s lost, you find him. That’s what brothers do, right?"

"Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Nate. There’s just one problem with that scenario. He’s always been there to get me through times like this. I need his strength, Nathan, I need his guidance. Without him, I’m not sure I know what to do."

"Close your eyes and listen to him, Chris. He’ll tell you what he thinks. He’s there in your mind, in your heart. Just listen."

Chris gulped, took a ragged breath, nodded slightly at Nathan and went back into his office. He closed the door and had a conversation with his oldest, wisest, companion.

THREE

Wednesday 8:42 PM MDT

Lucas Beddlington had been looking forward to this night for a long time. Tonight, he would shatter Buck Wilmington, destroying the two things he treasured most in the world, his friendships with Chris Larabee and J.D. Dunne and his manhood. And with his actions of tonight, he would probably destroy Chris Larabee as well. The violation of Wilmington’s body, the degradation he would suffer, the feelings of impotence and subjugation that would haunt the potent , self confident ladies man for the rest of his life, were the pinnacle of Beddlington’s revenge. His plan to make Buck think that the men he loved and trusted most in the world, were the perpetrators of the vile act, had only been hatched seven months ago in prison. When it had come to him, he had literally shouted for joy, forcing the man beneath him to beg for mercy. Besides, he liked doing men as much as women these days. Sex had always been about power for him, anyway. It had always been about forcing his will upon another human being. In prison, he had found that it was, perhaps, the ultimate power trip, for one man to strip every shred of self confidence and self appreciation from another man. Rape! He grew hard just thinking about the feeling of sheer domination that he would have as he rammed into Wilmington. He wished he could watch the lawman’s face as he crushed the soul of his sworn enemy. His breathing grew rapid as he pictured the pitiful creature, screaming, begging for him to stop. No, he smiled, not him. Wilmington would be pleading with his young protégé to stop the torture, the violation that would forever be replayed when he closed his eyes.

For months now, unbeknownst to Team 7, Beddlington’s people had been recording conversations amongst the seven men. Recording devices had been placed in Chris Larabee’s home, in the ATF office, in Casey Welles’ small efficiency apartment, and in every room of the condo shared by J.D. Dunne and Buck Wilmington. Lucas had several hundred hours of tape from which to select the perfect lines and phrases. His favorites were the ones in which J.D. could be heard making love to Casey. Lucas had precisely edited Casey’s name from the tapes. Any tape which included Chris praising J.D. for a job well done or encouraging him to proceed was also extremely useful and carefully edited. The tape that Lucas treasured, however, was a fight between Chris and Buck which had occurred about six weeks ago. A bust had gone bad and as it usually occurred when things went wrong, Chris blamed his old friend, Buck. The fact that Buck had nothing to do with the mistake, or the fact that things had blown over in the space of two hours, did not change the exchange of words that Lucas now had on tape. He also had made use of the conversation about the old picture on the Web page. Chris claiming that Buck was guilty, no doubt about it, fit nicely in with Lucas’s plans. Tonight, the tapes were ready and so was Lucas Beddlington.

Lucas turned at the sound of someone behind him. The huge Hispanic stood silently blocking the doorway. "Is our friend ready, Chico?" The giant of a man nodded. He had been looking forward to tonight also. Chico had always enjoyed watching his boss. It had always been females in the past and that had usually done the trick for Chico, but tonight was special. He was filled with anticipation, expecting a night to remember.

They entered the room which contained Buck Wilmington, who was tied by his hands and feet to the small table. His head hung between his arms. He didn’t have the strength to lift it. The fiery pain was just beginning to wear off, his mind was still foggy with eight hours of excruciating torment. The agony still lingered in his chest and stomach though, and the pressure of the table was once again spreading the fire through his limbs. As he lay, tied over the table, he moaned. He no longer had the strength to scream. Or so he thought. He had no comprehension of what was about to occur, his mind was still focusing entirely on the fire in his chest.

"Ready Chico?" Lucas said softly as he approached the restrained body of Buck Wilmington.

The tape started. Buck perked up as he heard his old friend’s voice. He listened to Chris encouraging J.D. to go for it. He turned his head slightly as he felt hands touching his bare skin. The warm hands slid caressingly over his hips and thighs. He heard J.D.’s voice asking Chris if he was doing it right. Just as the dark haired man heard Chris tell J.D. to take charge, he felt the hands grab his waist and pull him forcefully backwards. He screamed out in pain as he felt the hard cock enter him. He cried out as he listened to the sounds of J.D. having intercourse with him, groaning and moaning as he pumped into Buck, tearing his tender flesh as he did so. Buck cried as the crescendo increased, the invasion of his body and spirit too much for the tortured soul. He beseeched J.D. to stop. He begged Chris to make him stop. He pleaded for an end to the pain, for an end to the tortuous assault that his friends were subjecting him to. But they wouldn’t stop. The assault on his body continued until he thought he would die right there, with J.D. pounding into his flesh with no compunction or hesitation. He heard J.D. saying, "Oh yes, oh God, that’s so good. I need you so much. Oh yes, just a little more. Let me come in you. Oh, it feels so good." The pounding increased and the pain filled his every fiber, his mind raging at the thought that his brother would do this to him. He felt J.D. climax and then, finally, he withdrew from him. The final part of the tape, which replayed over and over again, was J.D. saying how much he had enjoyed his time with Buck (minus the part about the football game) and Chris telling Buck he was guilty and he deserved whatever punishment came his way. Buck hung limply over the table, unable to move, to get away from the voices of his friends. He whimpered softly as he listened to Chris and J.D..

Chico grinned. The tape was perfect and so was Lucas. Chico was proud of his boss and he was now in desperate need of a man of his own. Beddlington looked over at his right hand man. Lucas was well aware of Chico’s preference in sexual activity. The giant of a man was flushed. He was rubbing his crotch and sweating profusely. Lucas smiled, a truly wicked expression on his face.

"Let me start the tape again, my loyal cohort. You deserve a bonus for all the work you have done on my behalf. Enjoy, Chico. Just put him back on the mattress when you’re done." Lucas zipped his pants and straightened his clothes. He was laughing as he exited the room.

Thursday 3:56 PM MDT

Vin sat at Chris’s desk. His friend lay on the couch that was across from the desk. Vin studied Chris as he lay with his eyes closed. The strain and frustration of the past three days had taken its toll on Chris, more than the others. He had not slept, he had barely eaten, and his face was sunken and sallow. The only reason he was bathed and had on fresh clothes, was because Vin had forced him into the shower at his apartment. Chris was dying before their eyes and none of them knew what to do for him. Assistant Director Orrin Travis had come to their office yesterday and attempted to order Larabee to go home and rest, but Chris had totally ignored him and had gone back into his office, closing the door on his boss. Vin was at a lose as to what to do. They were all depressed, angry, frustrated, lost. They did not have one single clue to go on in their effort to find their missing companion. Buck had vanished and all their efforts to find him had left them feeling impotent and defeated. Hell, they hadn’t even been able to find J.D., and they were beginning to think maybe he had been snatched too.

The phone rang and Vin punched the button for line one and answered, "Agent Tanner." He was not in the mood for one more phone call from one of Buck’s women friends, who had heard through the office grapevine that their man was missing. They all meant well, but Vin had nothing to say to them that would cheer them nor did he want to hear their whining or cheery words of optimism.

"I would like to speak with Sergeant Larabee, please." The man’s voice held a bit of sarcasm and something else, but Vin was too tired to catch it.

"Special Agent Larabee is not available right now. Can I take a message?"

"No. Tell Sergeant Larabee that he will talk to me. I will not be kept waiting. Tell him I have his lost item." The man sneered over the phone.

Vin suddenly sat up straight, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He pushed the hold button and rushed out into the bullpen. "Nathan, put a tape on line one. Josiah, get a trace going. I think this monster has Buck!" He ran back into the office as Chris was sitting down behind his desk. He had heard Vin’s excited voice and knew it could only mean one thing.

With a shaking hand and a rage in his voice that none of them had heard before, he pressed the button and picked up the receiver. "Larabee. Who is this?"

"Well, Sergeant. How are you doing? It’s been a long time. I’ve been having a lovely time with your partner here."

"If you’ve hurt him, I swear, I’ll kill you."

"Such talk, Sergeant. I don’t believe you’re in any position to be talking to me like that. I was going to return Officer Wilmington to you, but now I don’t know. Do you want that on your conscience, Sergeant?"

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. Frustrating, isn’t it. Now, how do we negotiate with someone who doesn’t want anything? We have nothing to offer that he doesn’t already have."

Chris took deep breaths, trying to control himself. He needed to keep this man talking, to give Josiah time to trace the call. If he lost his cool, the man might hang up. ‘Okay, how do we get him back?"

"Just continue to do what you have been doing since Monday, nothing." The voice laughed. He was enjoying himself immensely. "Would you like to speak to your partner?"

Chris almost cried with relief. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Let’s see if he wants to talk to you." Lucas stood over Buck’s listless form. He held the cell phone in his left hand and with his right hand, he injected Buck with his daily dose of BMH. As the fire surged through his body, Buck screamed, an animalistic sound of abject anguish. Lucas lowered the phone so that the overwhelming sound was loud in Chris’s ear. "I guess he’s busy. You see, he really hates to take his medicine, Sergeant. I’ll call again tomorrow. Maybe he’ll feel more like talking. Bye for now, Larabee."

Chris sat, the dead phone still in his hand. The scream echoed over and over again in his mind. The primal scream of a man in horrific pain. Chris knew that Buck never complained about pain. In all the years he had known him, all the injuries and wounds he had sustained, Buck had screamed like that only once. He had made a traffic stop and his jacket got caught in the door of the offending driver. The man had taken off and had dragged Buck for several blocks before coming to his senses. Buck’s leg and side had been stripped of skin and tissue, baring ligaments and bone, and when Chris had opened the door and removed his friend from the offending vehicle, Buck had screamed and then lost consciousness. It was the same scream that Chris had just heard over the phone.

Nathan had heard it too as he listened in to the conversation while recording it for future evaluation. He removed the headset slowly and hung his head, tears falling freely onto the tape recorder. Josiah watched his best friend and moved to put a hand on his shoulder. Josiah pushed the rewind button and then the play button.

"Let’s see if he wants to talk to you," he heard and then the scream. He gasped and turned to look at the door that led into the office of his boss and friend. Thank God Vin and Ezra were with him. He stayed with Nathan, trying to fathom what could have caused the pain that they had heard in that scream.

"Any luck with the trace?" A voice from behind him startled the huge agent and he turned to see Ezra, white faced and solemn.

"Nothing. He’s blocking the signal. He could talk for hours and we’d never pick up where it was coming from. He’s got good equipment, that’s all I can tell you. How’s Chris?"

"Silent, seething, angrier than I’ve ever seen him. We’re losing him fast. Whoever this is that’s doing this to Buck, must hate Chris just as much as he hates our Lothario. He knows exactly how to get to our leader. I’m afraid, Mr. Sanchez, that Mr. Wilmington’s recovery will fall upon our shoulders. So, let’s listen to the tape. Maybe we can pick something up."

The three of them played the tape over and over again, trying to hear the smallest noise that might lead them to where Buck was being held. They found nothing. They ran the tape through the best equipment the agency had and still they heard nothing. They were no further along than they had been before the telephone call. Except now, they knew that Buck was alive but he was being tortured.

In fact, they were in worse shape, for Chris was gone. He barely heard Vin. He didn’t hear the others when they informed him that they could find nothing in the conversation that would lead them anywhere. All he heard was the scream. Chris sat deathly still for an hour. Vin had left the office to talk to Ezra about trying to rundown old cases that Chris and Buck had investigated while they were on the Denver PD. It had to be someone from the two’s past that was exacting his revenge now. They would check the parole record for the past three months also. They all rushed to the office door when they heard the shattering of glass. It was followed by a scream to rival the one on the tape, but this one was of frustration, anger, and loss. Chris had lost it, perhaps for good this time. Vin couldn’t help thinking, ‘Is this what Buck dealt with for three years after Sarah and Adam died?’ His admiration for the big man grew for Vin had no idea of how to help his friend through this ordeal.

Saturday 11:16 AM MDT

Every time the telephone rang, five men jumped to their feet. They had waited and endured the silence all day yesterday and last night. Chris had refused to leave the office, convinced that any minute, the kidnapper would call and he would get a chance to talk to Buck. The phone rang numerous times but the voice on the other end was always the wrong one. Chris had paced continually, like a wild animal that is stuck into a cage, not knowing how to get out. He had refused food, barely drank any liquid, although Vin had the notion that given a bottle of whiskey, their boss might have barricaded himself inside his office and polished off the whole bottle in record time. Finally, around one in the morning, Chris had collapsed. His friends carried him to the couch in his office and he had slept there for eight hours straight, often barraged by nightmares, but never awakening. The others had made themselves as comfortable as possible, Josiah sleeping at his desk, Nathan on the chairs of the waiting room, Ezra took the table of the break room and Vin slept in Chris’s high back office chair. They had gone over every file from the time Chris had made Sergeant until Chris and Buck split up. They cross referenced the list with recently released convicts. One name shown out above the rest, Lucas Beddlington. When Josiah got his hands on the report, he immediately came to the conclusion that this was a man who was entirely about control, not his own, but the domination of others. Josiah believed that the men Beddlington perceived were the ones responsible for taking away his power would certainly be on his mind for a long, long, time. Beddlington had the money and resources to pull off an elaborate scheme like this. Beddlington had been arrested and tried for rape and murder. Law enforcement did not touch his gun selling or drug dealing enterprises, and thus, Lucas Beddlington had tons of money flowing to him constantly with no outlet for it other than to plot and execute his revenge. Ezra pointed out that the man must have friends in high places for he was not paroled but had received a governor’s pardon. Most men convicted of rape and murder did not find favor with the governor. However, once Beddlington had stepped foot out of the penitentiary walls, he had disappeared just as Buck had Friday night. The search was on for Beddlington’s sanctuary.

Chris had remembered the case instantly. He had told the rest of his team how persistent Buck had been in finding the evidence to convict Beddlington. The victim had been one of Buck’s favorite ladies and, he had vowed at the hospital to make the bastard that had violated her so viciously that she had lost the will to live, pay with his own life. The rape had been a gruesome affair and it had sickened Chris, but the attack had infuriated his partner beyond anything Chris had ever seen. The two of them had been on sexual abuse cases before and they really seemed to strike a nerve with Buck, but this one was particularly hard on his best friend. Chris remembered that Buck had told him about his mother and the way she had died during this case. Chris knew that Beddlington was evil enough, and vindictive enough, to be the one responsible for Buck’s disappearance.

The telephone rang and five hands went to reach for their receivers. Vin got to his first. He took a breath, holding it until he heard J.D.’s voice on the other end.

"Vin, is Buck there. For some reason, he must have transferred our phone to the office. I needed to tell him that Casey and I will be home late Sunday night. You guys workin’ on a big case?" J.D. sounded his exuberant self.

"Where the hell have you been, J.D.? We’ve been tryin’ to reach you for days! God dammit, kid, you’re suppose to carry your cell with you all the time!" Vin took the opportunity to vent some of his suppressed anger.

J.D. felt like he had been kicked by a mule. The first thing that came to his mind was that one of the team had been killed, but which one. "Sorry, Vin, Casey and I had a fight about the phone and she took it. What happened? Who’s hurt?"

Vin sat down at his desk. It wasn’t fair to the boy. He had no idea what the others had been through this week. Vin tried to calm his voice before saying any more. "J.D., you need to get back here as soon as you can." He hesitated before going on. "I’m sorry, Kid, but Buck’s been abducted and we don’t know where he is. We figure they took him the Friday night you left with Casey."

J.D. was silent on the other end. Vin could hear him taking ragged breaths. "Did you hear me J.D.?" Vin asked softly.

"Yeah," the voice was barely a whisper. "I’ll be back by tonight, Vin. I got Buck’s truck. I can’t leave it and Casey here in the middle of the desert. Vin, you haven’t heard from whoever took him at all?"

There was no way in hell Vin was going to tell J.D. about the phone call and the scream. The kid had to be able to drive so Vin simply said, "Nothin’, J.D.. You and Casey drive careful, you hear me. There ain’t nothin’ you can do right now." But get frustrated and angry like the rest of us, Vin thought. "J.D., keep your phone on in case we hear somethin’, okay?"

"Yeah, okay Vin. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Bye."

Saturday 4:47 PM MDT

Lucas looked down at the limp, almost lifeless form of Buck Wilmington. This whole week had gone better than he had anticipated. Everything had gone off without a hitch. Lucas Beddlington could honestly say he was in a state of euphoria. Not only had the kidnapping itself gone so smoothly as to not leave the vaunted Team 7 with a single clue as to where the loveable Agent Wilmington was being held, but also Dr. Matheson’s serum had done wonders with Wilmington’s body. He was blind as a bat, in constant pain, totally devastated physically and mentally. And the rape was the coup de grace! Lucas found himself rubbing his groin. He had so enjoyed the feeling of ultimate power that had surged through him as Buck whimpered and moaned, begging the boy to stop. The tape was a masterful touch. Never again would Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee be able to be in the same room, let alone be best friends. And the little brat agent, that Buck seemed to care for so much, was lost to him forever.

"Well, Officer Wilmington, it’s time to go home. Chris and J.D. are waiting for you. You are anxious to see them, aren’t you?" He laughed and turned to Chico. "Is everything set for our friend here to make his reappearance?"

"Yeah, boss. Jamie got the van from the florist like you said. He’s at the parking lot waiting for me and him. The car is waiting by the florist’s shop."

"Good. Then it’s time to make the call and, while I’m doing that, you give him one more dose. The doctors will go nuts trying to figure out what’s wrong with him." He turned his attention to the body by his feet. "I’ll say good bye for now, Officer Wilmington, but I’m sure you’ll see me in your dreams." He reached down and grabbed Buck’s face in a vicious grip. "It’s going to be a long time before you fuck up somebody’s life again."

Lucas walked out of the room, never glancing back as Chico gave Buck another injection of BMH. He never even flinched at the scream of agonizing pain that escaped Buck’s raw throat. He moved into the office and picked up the scrambled telephone.

Ring!

Chris picked it up on the first ring. He held his breath and whispered, "Larabee."

So good to hear your voice again, Sergeant. Sorry, I just never found the time to call yesterday. Did you miss me?" God, he was having fun with this. Beddlington waited for his old nemesis to answer.

"Where is he, Beddlington?" It was all Chris trusted himself to say. His anger was over the top, he no longer had control of it but for Buck’s sake he reined in his mouth.

"So, you figured out who this is. Good for you and your marvelous Team 7. At least you got one thing right. It didn’t do Wilmington much good, but you managed to find out my name." Lucas smirked on the other end.

"Let me talk to him!" Chris was so tired of this damn game.

"I’ll tell you what, Larabee. It’s trash day and I think I’ll clean house. You can have what’s left of him back. When he wakes up, tell him it was better than I could have dreamt. Bye, bye, Larabee."

The phone went dead. Chris held the receiver in his stunned grasp. He looked up to see all four of his men staring at him. "Did you hear?"

They all nodded.

"Josiah, call Captain Dunbar. We need all the officers he can loan us. We’ve got to search garbage dumps, dumpsters, landfills. We’ve got to find where he left Buck!"

Saturday 5:52 PM MDT

Officer Terry Allen was just walking out to his squad car in front of the 8^th Precinct of the Denver Police Department, after dropping off a suspect for the detectives inside. They had made a good arrest and had gladly turned it over to the gold badges. It was time to clean out their squad and go home. Terry had a big night planned with his fiancé and he was ready to call it a day. His partner, Bob Brimley, was already leaning into the driver’s side of the car, fishing out all his gear before they drove the squad car around back to the garage where the next shift would pick it up. Terry noticed the van drive slowly by his partner’s open door but didn’t think much of it as Peterson’s Florist was just at the end of the block. He opened the passenger door and was just about to step in when he noticed the van stop about a hundred yards away. Something told him this wasn’t right and when the rear doors opened, he yelled for his partner to get down and he dove behind his open door. What he saw, however, was not a man with a gun, but a man pushing something out onto the road. The van then sped away and Terry stood up, trying to determine what had been dumped out of the back of the van.

"Oh my God!" he exclaimed as he raced the hundred yards, followed closely by Bob. He knelt beside the nude body and felt for a pulse. "He’s alive, I think. Go call for an ambulance and get the Sarge out here. Bob, give me your coat." Officer Brimley took off his coat, handed it to Terry, and ran back to the station house. Officer Allen gently draped his partner’s leather coat over the shaking body. "Hang in there, buddy, help is on the way."

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