Maybe she did just go away?

He took the stairs two at a time as he raced up to the third floor. When he hit the landing, he froze.

Marisa would turn on a light if she walked into her apartment. It's not her.

Jack drew his gun. He flattened himself against the wall and, with his left hand, reached for the doork.n.o.b. The slightest bit of pressure moved the door. The hinges made a small sound.

I locked it.

His hand started to move instinctively for his radio. He frowned.

On your own.

His breathing slowed as he waited and listened.

Nothing. Wait or let them come to me? No one's in danger and there's no other way out. Wait. Let the snake come out of the hole.

Jack shifted his weight as he prepared to move back when he heard a window in the apartment being flung open.

Fire escape.

He sidestepped quickly. His foot hit the door and then he went in.

Jack was too slow. He was fast enough to get his head out of the way, but something long, fast, and hard slammed into his arm just above the elbow. Even with a double-handed grip, he felt the gun fall from his hands as his arms were smashed downward from the blow. Before he could recover, a thick broomstick came up to thump into his face.

He staggered backward and fell into the hallway. His a.s.sailant leaped out of the shadows, dashed past him, and quickly ran down the stairs. Jack's hands slammed against the ground as he screamed in rage and pushed himself to his feet. He shook his head to clear his vision but could feel the blood splatter from his cut lip. He took two steps into the apartment and then looked for his gun that was now nowhere in sight.

d.a.m.n. Forget it. Move.

He turned to race down the stairway. He could hear the guy already reaching the first floor. Jack flew down each flight of stairs until he caught the door before it closed. The guy who hit him was small, about five six, dressed in black pants and a sweatshirt with the hood up. He was sprinting across the road, heading for downtown.

Jack's muscles exploded. His long legs stretched out, and his feet tore into the pavement. His arms pushed him forward as he focused his breathing.

You can't lose him. He knows where she is.

As he thought of Marisa, his speed increased. The figure darted between two buildings as Jack gained on him. As they raced forward, Jack saw the path they were on would lead them behind the supermarket. He grinned; he'd walked this route a hundred times now.

Everything's locked down. I can go to the right and cut him off.

Jack broke right, and pushed even harder. At the corner, he tapped into the furnace of rage that burned inside him, and his legs became a blur. He ran at top speed when the guy appeared. Jack could tell the man had seen him, but he knew it was too late for him to do anything about it. He lunged.

If there could be replay reels in life for hits, this would easily land on his top ten. Jack's shoulder slammed into the guy, but the guy spun around and caught the blow in his mid-section and not his side. Jack's arms wrapped around his waist, but the guy twisted as they traveled sideways. The motion caused Jack's shoulder to drop, taking a good amount of the impact with the pavement.

They both slammed into the ground and tumbled along the tar. Jack yanked himself up and ended up on top. His left hand slammed into the guy's chest, and he pinned him to the ground. Jack let out a loud growl as he reared back his right hand, ready to slam it into the man's face. The problem was, his left hand that held the man down didn't rest on a man's chest. What was obviously a woman's breast pressed back against his hand.

The person on the ground turned her head, and Jack could clearly see a beautiful j.a.panese woman glare at him with a mixture of pain and rage. Like a cat, she managed to pull her legs almost up to her face, and then they shot up toward his head. Her calves scissored around his neck; her strong thigh muscles yanked him forward and sideways, and drove his head into the pavement.

His vision blurred, but he tried to raise his hands to protect his head. She scrambled to her feet and delivered a heel kick straight to his solar plexus. Jack doubled up. The woman reeled back and grabbed the wall. She turned away from him and walked down the alley.

Jack reached for a half-full gla.s.s bottle lying against the wall. He pulled himself up to his knees and threw it as hard as he could. He aimed for her head, and it hit her in the lower back. She cried out in pain as she fell forward to her knees.

The bottle didn't break when it struck her, but it did shatter when it hit the ground. Growling, he forced himself to his feet and staggered forward. He took two labored steps and then kicked at her head. She leaned and blocked it. The block to his leg made him land off balance, which opened up his back. That's where she hit next; pain blasted through his exposed kidney. He dropped to his left knee. Her right hand slammed into Jack's cheek, and his whole upper body twisted around with the impact.

Bra.s.s knuckles...

Everything went black.

Do I have to cuff him?

Jack's eyes flipped open, but he immediately closed them again as pain raced through his head. He rolled up to his knees and willed his eyes to open again. The alley was deserted. He looked at his watch: 7:22 p.m.

I must have been out for only a couple of minutes.

He ran his tongue along his teeth.

All there.

He staggered to his feet and felt for his gun.

d.a.m.n.

Jack started back down the alley to head for Marisa's apartment. As he went, he felt along his body and flexed his muscles for injuries.

Nothing feels broken. My lip must look like h.e.l.l.

He could still taste the blood in his mouth.

A woman. What was she doing in Marisa's apartment? Seeing how she kicked my a.s.s, she definitely knows how to fight. She did leave me alive.

Jack's neck hurt as he scanned the area while he tried to hurry along. His ears rung and his right cheek had started to swell. The Impala was still parked along the curb, and he quickly patted down his jacket as he did a quick inventory.

Two phones. Keys. Wallet.

He hurried up the stairs to Marisa's, but, on the second floor, a young couple carrying groceries was unlocking their apartment. They took one look at Jack and hurried inside.

"Wait," he called after them, but the door had already slammed shut with a loud thud. He heard the tumble as the door was locked and bolted.

Great. Get your gun back first, and then try to talk to them.

On the third floor, the door was still open but his gun was nowhere in sight. He lay on the floor, looking under the kitchen island, when he saw it. He tried to reach under the cabinet but his forearm was too thick. His fingers stopped only inches away. Snagging a spatula off the counter, he managed to pull the gun back so he could grab it. He picked it up and quickly scanned the room. The far window was open.

Girl was smart. She knew I was outside and threw open the window to draw me in. I fell for it.

Jack walked over to the refrigerator and opened the little cabinet next to it. He grabbed the aspirin bottle and took four. He opened the freezer and dumped two handfuls of ice cubes into a plastic bag. He didn't know which hurt worse, his lip or his eye, so he held it midway between them. He leaned against the counter and put his head in his hands.

She couldn't have been in here long. I only drove two blocks.

He pushed the coins on the counter against the receipt for the coffee.

Coffee.

He grabbed the receipt as he fought back a wave of emotions. What he wouldn't do to have her back-to know she was safe-to do something simple like sit and have a cup of coffee with her. He let the paper fall out of his hands and watched it land on the pile of coins. As he stared at the pile, his head throbbed. The hairs on the back of his neck went up.

Something's missing...the business card?

He looked all around the counter but it wasn't there. The business card from the art gallery was gone.

"FREEZE," someone screamed in the hallway. Jack drew his gun and ducked down.

"Police officer," Jack bellowed back. "Officer Jack Stratton. Police."

"Jack? Is that you?"

Jack rolled his eyes. Donald Pugh wasn't the brightest bulb on the force, but he was a good guy.

"Donald, it's me. I'm alone, and I'm going to walk out of the room directly in front of the main door. DON'T SHOOT ME."

Jack holstered his gun and then stood up. He took a deep breath and held his hands up before he approached the doorway. "I'm walking out."

Donald strolled around the corner with a big smile on his broad face but pulled up short when he saw Jack. "What the h.e.l.l? Who beat the c.r.a.p out of you?"

"Donald, for future reference," Jack growled, "make sure it's safe before you just walk in."

"But you said it was you." Donald shrugged. He was Jack's age and height but Jack had twenty pounds of muscle on him. Donald was the type who never could seem to gain weight even if he wanted to. He pushed his hat farther up his sandy brown hair and then put his hands on his hips. "Are you okay? The neighbors called in a psycho break-in."

"What? I went to ask them about-" Jack suddenly stood with his feet shoulder width apart, ready to run. "Did they call the station with this address?"

"Yeah. We got another call about a guy chasing a girl-" Before Donald finished, Jack was headed for the door.

"Donald. I have to go. Why don't you run downstairs and explain this to the neighbors."

"Explain it? I don't understand it. What's going on? You look like someone rolled you for your wallet. Is this your apartment?"

"No. It belongs to a friend of mine. See?" Jack held up the key as he walked over to the door. "She gave me a key and permission to come and go."

As Donald looked at him, his eyebrow continued to rise. "What happened to your face?"

"That's a little more complicated. Someone did break into the apartment, but before Collins gets here, I need to think-"

"Too late for that, Jack." Sheriff Collins's tw.a.n.g shook the walls as he strode through the door.

Collins stopped while he stared at Jack. His mouth opened and closed twice before words actually came out. "Do you need medical attention?"

Jack shook his head. His eyes throbbed from the movement. "Sir-"

"Don't." Collins shook his head. "Is this her apartment?"

Jack nodded.

"Did you break in?"

"No." Jack held up the key. "I have permission to come and-"

"No, you don't. Not from me," Collins growled.

"With all due respect, I don't need your permission to go to my friend's apartment, sir."

"Actually, you do." Collins stomped forward. "You work for me, so you do need my permission. I made it clear. Stay away. There was no wiggle room in what I instructed."

"Actually-"

"Save it. You think something happened to this girl. If that's so, you have now contaminated a crime scene."

"What?" Jack's hands shot out. "Are you kidding me? You tell me nothing happened, and now you want to jam me up for-"

"I'm not doing the jamming, Stratton. You are." Collins turned purple. "Take him in," he snarled to Donald.

"What?" Donald and Jack exchanged an incredulous look.

"I'm not going to go through this now. You're not on duty and have been found in the apartment of a girl who was reported missing."

"You disregarded that report, and I have a key."

"You can tell me all about it down at the station, Jack."

"Sir, there was someone in here-"

"What part of 'shut up and tell me back at the station' do you not understand, Officer?" Collins's right eye twitched.

"Fine." Jack headed for the door.

Collins snapped at Donald, "What the h.e.l.l are you waiting for?"

Jack didn't look back, but he heard Donald whisper, "Do I have to cuff him?"

Can I get this one in an 8x10?

As Cindy Grant opened the door of the interrogation room, she frowned. Cindy was in her sixties but looked much younger. It may have been her round, chubby face or her constant smile, but she looked twenty years younger. She had short, light-brown hair and wore a modest dark blue skirt and a blouse with a bright b.u.t.terfly brooch. Cindy was the police dispatcher and also Jack's friend.

Jack lifted his head and smirked as he looked at her. Her little heels clicked on the floor as she walked over to the table.

"I don't know what you're smiling about, Jack." She set down an ice pack, a bottle of water, and three aspirin as she sat down next to him.

"Thanks." Jack took the pills and put the ice pack on his eye.

"What were you thinking, Jack? If you're trying to make the sheriff explode, you're on target."

"I'm not trying to tick him off."