I borrowed Tom, Cassy, Harry and the rest of the Silk Stalkings' cast from Steven J. Cannell, Stu Segall and Co. for awhile. I promise to take good care of them (okay…maybe a little h/c to keep it interesting) but I'll make sure I put them back when I'm finished.

COP HUNCH

By Terri D. Thomas

(Monday Night)

God, it hurts. You've really screwed up this time, Ryan. Tom looked down to examine the bullet wound. It was hard seeing the damage, with only the full moon and the construction spotlight providing illumination. Tom could tell, though, that blood was continuing to gush from his right side despite the pressure his hand was providing. He could also feel a warm, sticky wetness growing on the back of his shirt. Got to keep moving. Where is she? God, it hurts.

Tom tried to clear the tears that were clouding his vision. He had to regain control over the pain. Calming his breathing, he listened for any sound of movement. She was out there some where, looking for him. He had to get out of this place and find help. Cassy…where are those visions when I need them?

He attempted to rise to his feet, but dizziness overwhelmed him. He collapsed backwards against the partially completed wall. This is the last time I ever listen to one of my hunches. Harry's going to kill me. Hell, Cassy's going to kill me. Pain peaked in his abdomen again. Tom stifled a groan. I only hope they get the chance.

Mustering his strength, Tom pushed away from the wall which had been protecting him. He had to make it back to the Mustang. It was only 200 feet away at the most, but in his current condition, it could have been 200 miles away. If he had any hope of getting back to the car without her spotting him, he would have to avoid the spotlight and stay in the shadows. That would add another 100 feet to his trek. If he still had his gun or his phone he could stick it out right where he was. Without them, I'm a sitting duck…check that…a wounded duck. Making it to the car meant getting to his radio and help. His left hand dropped to his back pocket. He still had his keys and he was sure he could drive back to the main highway if he had to. But he had to get back to the car first. He looked toward the construction site entrance, and could see the faint outline of the Mustang. There was no movement. He heard nothing but his own breathing. Well, Ryan, what do you have to lose? No help is coming. It's just you and her and you can't stay like this forever.

Tom took a deep breath, the pain gripping his side, and slowly left the protection of the partially constructed house. He set his sights on the bulldozer, which was half way between him and the safety of his car and moved as quickly as he could. Every step created a piercing pain through his body. He was losing a lot of blood and he was pretty sure that shock was going to be visiting him soon. If I can make it to the car, I'm clear. The thought kept running through his mind like a broken record, emphasizing the purpose of each step.

He made it to the protection of the bulldozer unscathed. Resting his body against the cold metal frame, he listened for any signs of his assailant. Nothing. Has she left? Maybe she took off. She did just shoot a cop in cold blood. He concentrated on the entrance again. His car could be clearly seen now, the safety it provided pushing him on. It's not far now. The gapping hole of the swimming pool loomed before him…Johnson's grave …if he could just clear the hole then run the last fifty feet he'd be home free. A chill ran through Tom's body, but his face felt feverish, his eyes blurring again. Not now his mind screamed at his body. He rubbed his left hand over his eyes, trying to clear them so he could see. The last thing he needed was to trip over something because his vision was too foggy to make out the ground in front of him.

Tom gathered his strength once again and took another deep breath. With his right arm pressed against his side in a wasted effort to block the pain, he took out running towards the entrance. Following the shadows, his path took him to the ridge of the swimming pool. There was a sudden popping sound and an explosion in his right shoulder. The force of the bullet's impact spun his body around. He lost his balance and plummeted into the recently dug pit. The last thing he saw was her face…the face of a killer. Great hunch, Ryan, Tom thought as his body impacted with the dirt in the bottom of the hole.

(Earlier that day)

Sgt. Cassandra St. John was just hanging up the phone when her partner, Sgt. Tom Ryan strolled in with a cup of coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. He seemed especially perky. Of course Cassy had a pretty good idea as to why, since Tom had taken the morning off for "personal reasons."

"Did we have a good morning?" Cassy asked her partner with feigned ignorance.

"I had a wonderful morning…and night…I don't know about you." Tom responded cheerfully, removing his keys from his jacket pocket and tossing them on the desk. He sat in his chair, saying nothing further.

Curiosity got the best of Cassy. She leaned over her desk and in a hushed voice said, "Come on, Thomas, gimme."

"Cass…," Tom gave her his best warning look.

"I know, I know…you hate that," she grinned, cutting him off. "I take it that you had another date with Erin last night. How many is that now, five…six?"

"It's really none of your business, but if you must know, seven." Tom answered, still divulging nothing further.

Cassy wasn't going to let go. "Seven! My things are getting serious. Have you written her one of your famous Thomas Ryan songs yet?"

"Look, Cass…" Thomas squirmed in his chair, like a prisoner under interrogation. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about Cassy's questions, it was simply that she was his partner and his friend…and his ex-wife. There were just some things that he didn't feel comfortable talking to her about. A serious relationship with another woman was definitely one of those things. He looked up to see her staring at him with her piercing blue eyes, a grin on her face. She was definitely enjoying this harassment at his expense. He averted his eyes to the report on his desk.

"Thomas, you know that I only ask these questions because I have a vested interest in you. You're my partner and I need to know everything that happens to you. Wouldn't want you to be distracted or anything." Cassy was still grinning broadly, eyes sparkling, chin resting innocently in her cupped hands.

When Tom looked into her eyes again, he found he couldn't resist the smile that came to his face. Yes, she picked on him…a lot. But in the end, he wouldn't have it any other way. Tom also knew that if he were ever going to have peace and quiet this afternoon, he was going to have to tell his ex-wife about his personal life. "Okay, okay…if you must know, Erin is terrific. We have a lot in common…not professionally or anything, but personally. She loves music and poetry…walks on the beach…candlelight dinners. She even likes football. She's very insightful and shares her thoughts with me…doesn't push me away…" Tom stopped suddenly, realizing that he may be hurting Cassy's feelings. Cassy had pushed Tom away when she felt he was being too protective in their marriage. Tom always felt an insurmountable wall constructed every time he tried to get really close to her. She could never share her innermost feelings with him…not the way that Erin had over the past few weeks. He looked into Cassy's eyes again. There was a hint of sadness. Self-consciously, she hid the look immediately and returned to her normal cool exterior. Must be a record, Tom thought, that wall went up before I could even blink.

"Well, I'm happy for you, Tom. I hope this works out for you." It was Cassy's turn now to avert her eyes. She reached for her cup of coffee.

Before things became any more uncomfortable, Captain Harry Lipschitz came out of his office. "Ryan, St. John, in my office."

Grateful for the diversion, Tom quickly got out of his chair, grabbing his cup of coffee, but leaving the sandwich behind. Cassy followed.

Harry's office was unusually cluttered. He had been working on the annual budget reports. God, he hated paperwork. This was not why he had become a cop. He reached for a folder on the top of the stack and handed it to Cassy.

"This just came in." Harry looked over the rim of his glasses at his two detectives. "It's a missing person case…Derrick Johnson…as in ex-City Councilman Derrick Johnson."

Tom, who was looking at the file from over Cassy's shoulder, asked "How long has he been missing?"

"Since sometime last night. His wife said that he left the house at 8:00 p.m. for a meeting. She had gone to bed and didn't wake up until this morning. When she awoke, she thought that Johnson had left the house early. It wasn't until 10:00 this morning that his office called wanting to know if he was planning on coming into work. She checked the garage and found that his car was there. Officers on the scene report that there are no signs of foul play. He's just missing."

"Any ransom demands?" Cassy queried.

"None. I had Millhouse put a tap on the phone and we're going to monitor it from here, just in case, but so far, there's been nothing." Harry sat back in his chair. "You know, Johnson was a strong supporter of our department. He also has made quite a name for himself in the business community. I want you two to find him."

"Don't you think it's possible that he's just skipped out on his wife?" Tom asked.

"Anything's possible, but I would think it's highly unlikely. Johnson appears to have a clean record. No scandals to speak of. I think a lot of people would be very surprised if he were involved with anything even remotely dirty." Harry tossed his pen on the desk. "Just get out there and see what you can find."

"You got it, Boss." Tom turned on his heel and headed out the door. Cassy followed, file in hand.

"I'll drive," Tom offered as he finished off his coffee in one quick swallow and grabbed his keys.

End Part 1