It was a slow night for Carl. There were no calls and he didn’t have any paperwork, so he was half-falling asleep as he played solitaire on his computer and trying to stop thinking about his encounter with Brian Kinney earlier. ‘I hope you can rest easy taking those checks when you let two murderers go free.’ He couldn’t get the knot in his stomach to go away ever since the man had left.

He shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn’t get involved in this. Stockwell may be retired, but he could still make his life hell. And he was so close to his own retirement that he couldn’t rock the boat. After forty years of doing the right thing, he had earned it. All he had to do was look the other way. He focused on the screen and moved over a string of cards, clearing up a spot for a king.

He then grunted in frustration before placing a hand on his face and closing his eyes. He just couldn’t get the picture of that boy out of his mind. He had died so young.

Carl huffed as he closed the game and plucked the sticky note from the pad that Brian had written the address on. He gazed at it and then groaned in frustration. ‘Damn conscience.’ He thought to himself. He stuck the note to the side of his computer screen and picked up his phone.

“Hey, Patrice.” He said and rolled his eyes when he was answered with a shrill and angry voice. “Yeah, yeah I know it’s the middle of the night. But I need a favor. Get me the public records for 384 Fuller, # 402.”

Justin grunted as he struggled to get the camera Brian had bought him out of the box. He was holding the box between his knees and pulling it out with his left hand while his right throbbed.   “Come on…dammit…get out!” He cursed and jerked his hand back, finally pulling the camera free.

“Okay…How do I work this thing?” He asked, flipping it up and over, searching for the on button. He didn’t have time to read any instructions; they could go over to the apartment at any moment. He eventually found the way to turn it on and the camera hummed and whirred as the lens opened. “Finally.” He murmured and then balanced the camera on the windowsill as he sat backwards on the couch.

He looked down at the screen and moved it until it was looking into the window across the street. He then zoomed in until it was easy to see inside and smiled, satisfied. “Alright. I’m ready for you.” He shifted and stared at the screen intently.

He didn’t have to wait long. He saw movement on the other side of the street but not in the apartment. It was in the Cleaver’s apartment. He turned the camera to the right and gasped as he saw Rikert and Stockwell barge into the apartment and grab June and Ward.  “Oh shit…”  Justin murmured in shock.

The two murderers began beating the couple and Justin knew why.   It was his email.  They must have assumed it came from one of the neighbors.  “Fuck…”  He murmured as he used his gimp hand to hold the camera in place while his left took shots of their attack.  He was shaking and biting his lip as he watched the couple get beaten. 

Punches were being thrown and Justin flinched as one of the cops grabbed a lamp and smacked Ward on the head with it.  Flashbacks to his bashing suddenly lit up his mind and he let out a moan.  His head flared into pain and his hand began to throb again.  “No…No.”  He murmured and forced his eyes open; he wasn’t going to let Hobbs ruin this.  He was getting proof.  He clicked off a few more shots as his heart raced. 

June was cowering next to her husband’s body and crying profusely as one hand cupped her eye.  Justin then glanced over his shoulder to the phone sitting on the desk.  He should call the police.  He looked back to take a few more pictures and then went to get the phone, but something stopped him.

One of the murderers walked over to the window and looked right at him.  Justin stiffened and then gasped when he pointed a finger in his direction.  “Oh no…”  He whispered shakily.  His partner walked over to the window as well and locked eyes with Justin.  He drew a thumb across his neck and then they both turned and ran out of the apartment.

Justin flew away from the window.  He first ran to the door and locked it up.  He tugged it, just to test it.  Then, he went to the phone and dialed 911.  He paced frantically as it rang and rang, wondering why no operator picked up right away.  He kept his eyes on the door, wondering how long it would be before they began pounding on it.  “Oh god…”  He whispered frantically.  “Pick up.  Pick up!”

“911, what’s your emergency?”  A woman’s voice asked in a calm voice.

“Two men are trying to kill me!”  Justin exclaimed, his voice breaking into the phone.  Suddenly, he found it difficult to breathe and his vision was getting blurry. 

“Sir, you need to calm down-.”

“No!  They’re going to kill me!  They’re going to kill me!”  Justin exclaimed, and in the back of his head he knew a panic attack was coming on, but he was powerless to stop it, no matter how badly he wanted to.  He’d never calmed himself down from one before – he’d always had Brian there to help him.  Now, with death literally knocking on the door he couldn’t get himself under control.

“Sir, I can’t help you if you don’t calm down.  Where are you?”  She asked, but Justin couldn’t hear her.

All he could hear was his gasping breath and pounding heart.  In his mind’s eye he could see them busting down the door and beating him just as they had the Cleavers.  “Not again…please, not again…”  He moaned pitifully.  He’d been lucky to survive one attack, he knew that he wouldn’t survive another.

“Sir, please.  Where are you?”

Pounding on the door.  Justin could hear the metallic clangs as the two men tried to get in.  “Oh god, they’re here.”  He whimpered and shut his eyes, as if he could hide from them if he couldn’t see them. 

He never should have sent that e-mail.  But he never would have imagined that they’d see him.  Though, he should have; if he can see them, they should be able to see him.  The pounding continued, and it blocked out the sound of the woman’s voice.  Justin was alone.  Brian wasn’t there to save him this time.  Somehow, he’d have to save himself.

“287 Fuller…and T-Tremont.” He forced the words out of his mouth and closed his eyes, feeling a small sense of pride in himself.  It was quickly shaken when another bang on the door echoed through the loft.  “Fourth floor.”  He heard her ask something, but he was shaking so badly that the phone fell from his hand.  Before he was able to bend and pick it back up, however, something pierced his ears so loudly that he had to cover them.  He fell to his knees and cringed as they rang with a high pitched whine.

Confused, disoriented, and frightened, Justin couldn’t possibly imagine what the source of the noise was – or what it meant for him.  Unable to hear, and unwilling to open his eyes, he was defenseless on the floor of the loft.  He cried out when he felt hands on his arms, jerking him upwards.

Justin cried out both out of fear and pain, as his arms protested the jerking movement.  He was pulled up to his feet and then they tried moving him, but Justin wasn’t going without a fight.  He knew that if he let them take him, he’d be killed.  So, he jerked and twisted, he fought and kicked, as he struggled to get free of their hold.  He forced his eyes back open and latched onto the support beam which was nearby. 

He could hear them talking, but for the life of him he couldn’t understand what they were saying.  It was almost as if they were speaking another language.  He held on as tightly as he could, but was forced to let go when they tugged on his body and it felt like his arms were going to come out of their sockets.  His fingers slipped off the bar and he flew backwards due to the pull of their arms.  However, they must not have expected it, because they let go of him.

Taking this opportunity, he pushed himself up to his feet and started running for the door.  Before he could take more than a few steps, however, his ankle was grabbed and he fell back to the floor.  He caught his hand on the desk and knocked over a few things.

“What are you doing?!  Grab him!”

One of them shouted and Justin tried to get up once more, but the hold on his ankle was like a vice and he couldn’t break free; even as he tried to kick it off with his other foot.  He was grabbed again and then he felt something hit him in the back of the head.

Everything went black.

“Let’s kill him in the car. We can dump the body somewhere. The river or something.” Kenneth suggested as he maneuvered Justin towards the door.

“Are you insane?! One was bad enough – we can’t kill another person. Besides, this isn’t some hustler no one cares about. Don’t you know who this kid is?!” Jim demanded in a brusque whisper. He pointed towards Justin and snarled in disgust – it had to be Justin Taylor.

“Should I?” Kenneth asked sarcastically, dumping Justin none-too-gently onto the ground.

“Yes, damnit! He got his head bashed in a few months ago at his prom. If he’s killed people are going to be up in arms. We can’t just disappear. They won’t stop until those responsible are caught – which is us!” Jim reminded as he walked over to the computer and started tinkering on it, looking for the e-mail that was sent. He needed to be sure that this boy was the one who sent it. It was possible that he had simply seen them attacking the people across the street, though his gut told him it wasn’t that easy.

Opening up the e-mail he saw that it was still logged on, and he pulled up the message with a single click. “Fuck…It’s him.” He murmured and rubbed his forehead with a shake of his head. This was getting too out-of-hand. He never should have let things get this far.

“Then we kill him.” Kenneth repeated, kicking Justin in the side.

“Will you stop?!” Jim shouted angrily and pushed Kenneth away from the boy. “Just let me think.” He demanded and balled his fist in front of his mouth as his mind raced.

Kenneth sighed heavily next to him and moved deeper into the loft. He picked up a few things from the kitchen counter to examine them, and then set them back down. Before he could move up into the bedroom, however, Jim stopped him. “Are you planning on putting your fingerprints everywhere?” He asked, wondering why Kenneth seemed to be so stupid all of a sudden. “We’ll have to wipe down everything we’ve touched and get him out of here. Come on.” He ordered and looked under the sink.

He grabbed a container of bleach wipes and began to clean up everything Kenneth touched. “You get him down into the car. We’ll figure out what to do with him later.” He said, not wanting to risk Kenneth touching anything else. He’d already put them in too much risk.

“Fine.” His former partner snapped at him angrily and bent to pick up Justin. He threw him over his shoulders and then walked out of the loft.

Jim continued to work swiftly, remembering everything they’d touched since getting inside. He couldn’t miss anything, because both his and Rikert’s prints were on file because of their careers. ‘Or former careers…’ He thought bitterly.

He had everything planned out; after he had a few years as Chief of Police under his belt he’d run for mayor. But then, he let Kenneth convince him to just try one of the boys he’d found.

He loved his wife, and his kids, but there was something so satisfying about burying himself deep into a young man. He’d gotten addicted to it; to the feeling and the secrecy. That boy that they’d killed had been his favorite thus far. He had wanted to enjoy him for some time to come, but Kenneth tied the ropes too tight and they hadn’t noticed him struggle to breathe.

One small mistake and everything was ruined.

But he’d be damned before anyone found out. It wasn’t too late to salvage the situation. He’d just have to handle Taylor, and then he could get back on track.

He scanned the loft once more, wondering how it was a young boy like Taylor afforded something so extravagant, and then nodded. He’d hidden their prints and hopefully no one would know they were here. He turned and followed Kenneth out of the loft, his mind still racing.

“I have a B and E at 287 Fuller street.  Need a car there ASAP.”  The voice of the dispatcher announced over the radio in Carl’s car.  He looked down at it in shock, recognizing the address because he’d been there before – and he was on his way there right now.

“Oh no…”  He murmured, the importance of the announcement not lost on him. He sped up, turning on his siren to get the way cleared for him, and went over to the apartment building as quickly as he could.  He grabbed the radio as he did, answering the dispatcher.  “Carl here.  On my way.”  He then dropped the mic to the side, wanting to focus on getting there as quickly as possible. He screeched to a halt outside and then ran up the stairs to the fourth floor.  When he arrived he was out of breath and huffing a bit, but he continued on. 

The door was ajar and when he inspected it he saw that the lock had been shot open.  He placed his finger around the darkened edge of the metal, and it was still warm to the touch.  “Brian!  Justin!”  He called out, and pushed the door open more.  He saw inside the loft and knew he was too late.  The loft wasn’t completely trashed, but he recognized the signs of struggle when he saw it.  He moved over to the desk first, which was the worst of the destruction.

He pulled out his cell phone and quickly called the department.  “This is Horvath.  I have two missing persons; high risk.  Suspects are Kenneth Rikert and James Stockwell.”  He said as he sat at the computer and saw an email pulled up.  When he read it, he frowned sadly.  Since he hadn’t helped them, they decided to help themselves.  They gave themselves away.

“Yes!  That Rikert and Stockwell.  They are suspects in a murder witnessed by these two men.  Get back-up here now!” He shouted and then snapped his phone shut with a sigh.

This was all his fault. He felt the guilt begin to eat at him, putting his stomach in a tight knot. Brian had been pleading with him to listen to them, and he’d been more worried about his own pension than the lives of innocent people. He was almost as bad as Rikert and Stockwell themselves.

But, it wasn’t too late.

There were no bodies, so for some reason the two thought Brian and Justin were needed alive. Though, he doubted that would be the case for long. He would need to find them – and fast. He wasn’t going to let two more innocent people die.