Chapter Text
NYPD detectives had beaten FDNY 252 to the bruery six minutes ahead of them.
The entire drive had been spent with Owen’s heart clenched. Every bump on the road, every quick turn the ladder truck took, he never registered. His eyes were just locked onto a message sent by one of the detectives while they were on route.
He has TK as well.
For months, the press-dubbed Cabbie Killer had New York City in his grasp. So many people were afraid to get into cabs of any shape or color, leading to other forms of transportation to be overcrowded. Accidents had risen almost twenty percent due to the amount of extra cars on the road, people who could take their own were doing so to avoid being in one of the cabs.
While the NYPD Crime Cab was officially running the case, Detective Mac Taylor had also been consulting with FDNY, keeping those that might be affected by the chaos in the loop. For his part, Owen had been splitting his free days with keeping up with TK in his first year of college and checking in with Mac.
It was just unfortunate that while the crime lab had all sorts of information at their fingertips, they still weren’t sure who they were chasing. There was no real pattern that they could discern.
The only breakthrough had been thanks to Mac’s stepson, an ambitious young journalist with a blog named Reed Garrett. The young man had revealed some of the details of the case on his blog which was causing friction between them.
Until today.
Owen clenched his hands around his phone, staring at the long line of messages he’d sent to his son. TK wasn’t always the best about checking them, especially when it was a day he had class, but he still willed him to answer and prove Mac wrong. Prove that the clues being left on Reed’s blog, the clues that were leading them to the Cabbie Killer, were wrong.
That TK hadn’t been abducted as well.
From what little he’d allowed Mac to say before hanging up on him, TK had been seen waiting outside Reed’s apartment, waiting for him to arrive home. TK and Reed had become something of friends while in school, ignoring the large age gap between the freshman and junior. Owen himself had been encouraging the friendship considering that Reed was a much safer option compared to several others that TK seemed to gravitate towards.
TK’s backpack and phone were found next to Reed’s, right outside his door, leading the CSIs to assume that TK was involved. It had been a tense moment where his son was being accused of being the Cabbie Killer, until Owen could prove TK’s innocence. Thankfully his son still enjoyed putting pictures of his antics on the internet, including when he was out of town with friends when two of the confirmed deaths occured, and at dinner with his father around a third.
Owen switched over to his browser where he had Reed’s blog pulled up. The young man was updating in real time, an interview with a serial killer with deadly intentions. TK had been hinted at only once, just a moment ago - “I fear he will be bored of our audience soon.”
Please don’t let me be too late.
The ladder truck began slowing down. Owen focused back on the task at hand, seeing that they were just outside the abandoned bruery. NYPD police were already moving around and directing them to the side, letting the 252’s ambulance pull up closer.
As soon as the truck finally stopped, he quickly hopped out and absentmindedly handed over control to one of the other captains on the scene. His eyes were scanning the crowds of uniforms, looking for someone, anyone, that was a part of Mac’s team - someone who would probably be able to let him know where his son was.
Off to the side, he spotted one of Mac’s detectives outside - his second in command, Stella Bonasera. She was wiping something from her hands. Blood. Owen felt his heart skip a beat. Was that-
Stella looked up and made eye contact with him. She quickly turned to one of the officers standing next to her, saying something lost in the din of people shouting instructions and radios keying. The man nodded and cut through the crowd, heading directly for him.
“Sir, Detective Bonasera asked that-”
“Is he alive?” Owen cut the man off, apologizing in his mind for his curtness, but this was his son for crying out loud. “Does Stella - Detective Bonasera - know where he is?”
The officer gave him a grim look. “She asked that you speak to her, sir. She didn’t give me any details.”
He’s hurt, he’s gone, that psychopath took my son away from me.
Words of despair rain through his head as he followed the officer through the crowd. Dread was starting to push into his veins. Please please ple-
Stella stepped in front of him, shutting down the refrain of prayers from running through his head. “Captain Strand.” She gestured to the side, leading into the bruery.
“Detective Bonasera, is he-”
She shook her head, setting a brutal pace through the steel corridor. “We found Reed; the bastard dropped in right in front of us. And another victim, in the room he was holding Reed. But your son… There’s no sign of him.”
How Owen didn’t stumble in his steps, he had no idea. “He’s not here? But his bag?”
The detective nodded. “We’re sure he was taken. But somewhere between Reed’s apartment and here, he vanished.”
They had walked into a larger room. A large table was resting to one side, a beat up laptop laying on the table, open and waiting for the next line of Reed’s desperate attempt for rescue. Owen looked around, seeing another table with some blood splatter, as well as different tools scattered around. He took a few more steps, eyes tracing the room.
“Do you think he stopped somewhere? The Cabbie Killer, I mean,” he asked. He was struggling to remain focused and professional. Every part of him wanted to tear through the building, and if his son wasn’t here, find the son of a bitch and beat the answer out of him.
“That’s the running theory,” she said. “There was a delay in when they were taken and Reed’s first post. But until Reed is out of surgery, we won’t know for sure. That’s where Mac is, waiting for Reed to wake up.”
Owen nodded. “Figured. He wouldn’t leave otherwise.” He focused back on her. “Anything I can tell my crew? We could start-” He cut himself off. Something behind Stella caught his eye. There was a rusted steel tank behind her. And just in sight was more silver. It wasn’t the same silver though. It was shiny. New.
Duct tape?
He sidestepped just an inch. A hint of leather. “Oh my god.”
Stella whirled around, eyes finding the same thing he had. Her hand was on her radio before Owen could even take another step. “Get another paramedic crew in here, now!”
Owen rushed past her. The shoes were duct taped and attached to jean-covered legs. And above that, he could see a torso and a tape-covered face… “TK,” he gasped. His kidnapper had stuffed the young man behind the tank, with barely enough room to allow for breathing.
Stella’s hands joined his and they quickly worked to pull TK out from his prison. The second he was free, Stella quickly pulled the tape off of his face.
Owen’s fingers pressed against TK’s pulse point. Please, I beg you, stay with me.
A beat. Another. Unsteady but there.
“I’ve got a pulse!”