"Don't shoot me, detective. I won't hurt you, you know that." His breath was warm against her ear.

All her surroundings now came back into focus, she realized she was not alone. There were several patrol cars and a dozen or so officers skirting the perimeter of the house and property. Her captain approached.

Concern and fear clouded his eyes. "What did he say to you, Kimburly? I know he called. What did he say?"

Confused as to how he knew, she just stared.

"I called him on the way here, I told him about the phone call, detective," again from the voice by her ear.

She tried taking a deep breath, her chest tight with emotion. "He told me that Greg found him. That was all. Then I heard a gunshot and the line went dead." She took another painful breath. "Then, I found," she stopped and pointed to the hood of the patrol car. A crimson handprint on top of silver paint.

The hands were gone from her shoulders, replaced by warm, strong arms closing around her chest. "Relax. Everything will work out. Trust me, detective."

She nodded, willing herself to take a long deep breath. Closing her eyes for a moment, she leaned back into Ryan's embrace. The tension eased slightly from her muscles, giving her some relief.

"Good. Put your gun away, at least for now."

She placed the pistol back in her holster, securing it.

"Are you alright, detective?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want me to let you go?"

Another shake of her head.

Reaching up, she grabbed his forearms, holding on to him. He was all she had left to hold on to, she didn't want to let him go.

He turned her around to face him. "Everything will work out, you'll see. You need to focus now, for Ruckus. Be strong and find him, there will be plenty of time to fall apart later."

She took a deep breath. "I'm okay, really." Reaching in her jacket pocket, she fished out his keys. "Here's your keys back. I can meet you at the gym or your house when I'm done. You don't have to hang out here, it's getting colder."

"I'll wait, it's no big deal."

Captain Ross cleared his throat. "Can we get back to work now?" he spoke from behind her. "We still have two missing officers."

Burly turned around, "Yes, sir." She pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from her jacket pocket.

"I left my bag at the gym, I have no way to collect any evidence."

"You have plenty of officers to collect your evidence. You just point them in the right direction."

Just as she was about start searching the front of the house, the garage door opened. Her gun was in her hand before she had time to think.

"He's close, he must be watching again." She turned to Ryan, "Don't leave now, stay close. I don't know where he is."

"You have a warrant and the man power, go search his house."

She nodded, stepped forward. In the garage, a truck full of furniture sat untouched. There was a small trail of blood droplets leading to an interior door. Burly followed it, heading into the house followed closely by three uniformed officers.

"I'm going in, you stay here," she said to them quietly. Slowly, she opened the door.

Sitting on the kitchen floor, bound and gagged was the missing uniformed officer. He flinched visibly at the opening of the door. He was bleeding from a bruised cut on his forehead.

From the door, Burly asked him in a hushed tone, "Are you okay?"

He nodded.

"Are you alone?"

Another nod.

She walked over to him, crouched down on the floor and pulled the tape off his mouth. Reaching behind him, she unbound his hands.

"Thank you, Burly. I didn't think anyone would find me."

"Do you know where," she started, having to stop to take a deep breath.

He shook his head. "No, I don't know where he took Ruckus. They struggled, his gun went off and that was all I remember."

"Okay." She helped him to his feet, guiding him to the door of the garage. The officers outside all stopped, watched her lead him down the driveway to Captain Ross.

"Well done, detective. Now find your partner."

"Working on it, sir," she said as she made her way back through the garage.

The three officers followed her into the house, she sent them each to a different room to search for evidence while she concentrated on the kitchen and living room area. Both room showed signs of a struggle. The furniture was pushed around haphazardly, various small items littering the floor.

Among the items she searched through, a set of car keys caught her eye. Ruckus, those were his keys. She scooped them up and deposited them in her pocket. Slowly walking past the coffee table, she noticed a book and piece of paper on it. The paper addressed to her.

Sitting down on the couch, she unfolded the paper. Neatly written on it was a note from Greg.

'Maybe looking through this book will bring back memories for you. I am haunted by mine every night.'

How odd, she thought to herself. She picked the book up, shocked to see that is was a yearbook. Running her hand over the cover, she recognized it. The yearbook was from her high school, her graduating year.

A year that I don't remember much of, she thought as she opened it. Page by page, she started recalling things that happened. Kids she hung around with, those she teased and humiliated. Leaning back against the couch, scanning faces she hadn't seen in fifteen years.

One face stared back at her. A lonely boy, one that had asked her out on several occasions and she repeatedly turned him down. One she started picking on, trying to get him to leave her alone. How can teenagers be so mean to each other, she thought. The boy in the picture just stared at her.

"I'm so sorry, Jimmy. I didn't mean to tease you like that. I didn't realize it hurt so much. So much that you would destroy my life later."

She stared at the picture a moment longer, the name underneath James Sears. JGS, the initials on the class ring she found under John's building, the ring with her graduating year on it. How could that tall, geeky boy become the body building personal trainer that she trusted? She studied the picture.

How much time had passed from the time she graduated until she met up with him at the gym? At least five years that she knew of. She had enlisted in the army right after school, then took a year before joining the gym. His appearance had changed, he matured. Lifting weights had built his body from gangly teenager to lean, muscled man. She hadn't recognized him at all. He introduced himself as Greg and she hadn't questioned him.

The two had talked and become friends, or so she thought. He had been there when she got hurt at work, when her heart broke. They talked about personal things, shared conversation.

Greg helped her tone her body, he knew her physical strengths and weaknesses. He had her partner now and she had to find them. She sent up a silent prayer that Ruckus was still alive and alright. Where are you, Ruck?