Part three

It took a long time to get down the mountain.

Kerry wanted to clean off more of the blood first, but Peter wouldn't let her. "The faster we get out of here, the better." He stated firmly as he limped off down the trail. Kerry whistled shrilly with two fingers for the dogs, who had spread out in all different directions. Peter limped back to grab her hand. "No noise."

Kerry pulled her hand from his grasp and backed slowly away, watching his every move, green eyes wary. Peter sighed. "Look, I will tell you the entire story, but if I try now, I'm not going to make much sense. If it makes you feel any better; I'm a cop. I was kidnapped to keep me from testifying at a trial several days ago. And if there is anybody out here, which for various reasons I doubt, we don't want them to find us."

"But someone might be looking for you?" Kerry asked, her voice tight with worry. Maggie gave her a curious look and leaned against her. Absently, she rubbed the dog's neck, reassuring herself in the familiar feel of warm fur.

"I hope not." Peter muttered.

"We can call the police as soon as we get to my house. They could meet us at the hospital," Kerry said, obviously planning the next few hours. "I think the dogs will be okay alone…"

Peter broke into her one-sided conversation. "No police, no hospital."

"No police? But look at you! You're hurt! You need to go to the hospital to have someone check you out."

"I've been worse," Peter said, a grim set to his mouth. "And it's not that I don't trust the local cops, but I don't know them. It could be they already know what's going on up on top of this mountain."

"What is at the top of the mountain?" Kerry asked in a small voice. She was suddenly aware that she was in way over her head.

"I can't tell you right now." Kerry bit her lip as she noticed the thin sheen of sweat coating his face. It wasn't that hot, he must be in pain.

"Okay, you can tell me later, after we're home."

Peter stumbled along, wincing every couple of steps. When he hit a particularly sharp stone, he sucked in his breath quickly. Kerry stopped. "You can't walk on those feet."

"They're the only ones I've got," said Peter, with a lopsided grin. "Besides," he added, "We can't stop."

Kerry didn't want to think about why they shouldn't stop, so she looked down at his feet. They looked terrible—blue with cold and she could see a few drops of blood that Peter had shed on the trail behind them. She gracefully folded herself onto the ground and began untying her bootlaces.

"What are you doing? I certainly can't fit into your boots."

"No, but you can wear the socks! They're wool, and pretty thick. They'd be better than nothing." Pulling off the first boot, she tugged off the sock. They were warm and thick—and bright pink. At Peter's expression, she shrugged. "They're still better than nothing."

Peter sighed and pulled on the socks while Kerry re-laced her boots over bare feet. The dogs milled around watching the exchange with interest. Back on the trail, Kerry kept them close by feeding them the treats in her pockets every few minutes.

When they finally reached the base of the woods, with only the field to go through to the house, Peter looked ready to collapse. "Look for anything … out of place," he ordered Kerry. The dogs had already begun racing down the hill, running for the kitchen door and food.

"There's nothing." Kerry said impatiently. "The dogs would have never run to the door if they smelled anything different around the house. Let's get you inside."

Somewhere along the trail, she had begun supporting him. Now, he leaned his weight upon her as they crossed the sharp stubble of last fall's timothy crop. Kerry knew that each tough stalk must be poking his already-sore feet with no mercy. When they reached the soft grass of the yard, Peter sighed with relief.

Kerry pulled out the key and unlocked the door. She led Peter through the kitchen and the living room and into the downstairs guestroom, where she eased him onto the day bed. "Sorry Mom," she muttered, "but I'm sure the dirt will come off."

Peter's dark lashes were lying against his cheeks. Kerry looked down at him. God, even covered in dirt, blood and bruises he was gorgeous. Not that that was the reason she had decided to trust him… Turning from him, she ran upstairs to get some towels and medical supplies.

He woke up as she started to sponge the blood off his head with warm water. "Gotta call … precinct," he muttered. "Gotta get help."

Kerry was all for help, especially if there might be someone out there searching for him. And she wanted to know what was going on. She went and found the portable phone. "What's the number?" she asked, finger poised to push the buttons.

Peter told her the number. "Ask for … Kermit Griffin."

"Sloanville Police Department, One hundred and first precinct." A polite voice said at the other end, "How may I direct your call?"

Kerry's eyebrows went up. She looked at Peter. He was out like a light; she was on her own. "Uh—can I speak to Kermit Griffin?" she asked. At least it was a police department; Peter must be telling the truth.

"Just a moment please, I'll connect you to that extension."

It was about a five-minute wait listening to a mangled musak version of some almost identifiable song before a brusque voice on the other end stated; "Griffin here."

Kerry hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. "I.. I've got Peter Caine here," she finally started.

The voice on the other end grew menacing. "He'd better be alright, or I will personally hunt you down and kill you. What do you want?"

Kerry pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it. She could hear the man on the other end growling more threats at her. When the voice stopped, she cautiously moved the phone back to her ear. "Let me start over," she said, speaking very carefully. "I was walking in the woods near my house and I found a man named Peter Caine. He told me to call you."

The voice softened. "Why didn't you say so? Is he hurt?"

Kerry looked consideringly at Peter, now sprawled across the guest bed. "He's sleeping; he looks like he hasn't slept for a week. He has bruises all over, a cut on his head, and he was barefoot when my dogs found him. Other than that I guess he's okay. I'm not an expert on first aid, but his pupils are the same size and he was coherent. He says he's been worse."

Kerry could hear a sigh of relief over the line. "Isn't that the truth." Kermit muttered. In a louder voice, he added, "Listen, tell me where you are and I'll come get him."

"Paris, Vermont."

There was a pause. "Is that anywhere near Monmouth?"

Kerry frowned, remembering that Peter had asked that, too. "No, on the other side of the state."

"Alright, give me directions to your house, and I'll be there in about," Kermit checked his watch, "Eight hours." After Kerry had given the directions, Kermit paused. "Did Peter say anything about any… problems?"

"He said that someone kidnapped him to keep him from testifying at some trial, but he thought they probably weren't chasing him anymore." Kerry said, relieved to share the burden. She hadn't stopped thinking about the look in Peter's eyes since he told her. "He also told me no local police and no hospital. What should I do?"

"If Peter thinks they've given up, they probably have." Kermit agreed. "Just act normally, and don't let anyone see Peter. See you soon." Kermit hung up.

"Well, that was certainly reassuring." Kerry told Maggie, sarcasm masking the fear beginning to build deep within her.

Kermit grabbed the map as it finished printing and was out the door two seconds later. He paused at Karen Simm's door. "I know where Peter is, I'm going to get him."

"Is his disappearance connected with a case?" Captain Simms asked, lifting one elegant eyebrow, as she looked up from the pile of paperwork stacked in front of her.

"Probably. Peter thinks he was kidnapped to keep him from testifying, I'm guessing at the Li trial. The woman who called said she'd found him on a mountain, and he'd fallen asleep from exhaustion. I didn't actually talk to him."

"Are you sure it's not some kind of trap?" Concern colored the Captain's voice. "Where did this woman call from?"

"Vermont. I checked her out on the computer. Kerry Houghton, the one who called, lives in Massachusetts, but her parents live at the address she called from. No one in the family has any kind of criminal record, just a few speeding tickets. One of the other daughters is actually a deputy sheriff. I think it's legit. But the information is on my desk if you need it."

Captain Simms allowed a slight smile to cross her face. "Detective, I don't recall you asking for any time off."

Kermit grinned. "That's because I didn't."

Karen turned back to her paperwork. "I need my best homicide detectives back in this precinct, Kermit. You have four days. Be careful, and call me if you need backup.

"And Kermit?" She looked up from the stack of papers, "One more thing. Stop and get Peter's father, or you'll just find him somewhere along the road walking to Vermont."

"Oh yeah."

Kermit Griffin pulled up in front of Kwai Chang Caine's home in Chinatown to find the older man dressed to travel and standing at the curb. As Kermit stopped, Peter's father opened the door and lowered himself into the passenger seat of the Kermitmobile.

"You have found my son." He stated quietly.

Kermit shook his head. "I'm not going to ask you how you knew that."

Caine gave him a look, as if to say 'you know better than to ask that question.' "Peter did not speak to you?"

Kermit stepped on the gas and pulled back into traffic. "No, he did not. A woman called. She said that Peter was asleep, bruised but all right. He's in Vermont."

"Ah. A woman?"

"Yes Caine, a woman. Trust your son to be on a mountaintop in the middle of some god-forsaken wilderness and come across a woman. She's probably attractive, too." He added with a glimmer of humor.

"Yes. That would be like Peter." Caine agreed. He reached his thoughts towards his son. For the past three days, Caine had sensed nothing from him but sheer exhaustion. Now, he could feel Peter's chi. His son was gaining some much-needed rest. Although Caine still worried, Peter didn't seem to be in immediate danger.

Kermit glanced over at the older man. "I thought you had radar when it came to Peter. How come you didn't know where he was?"

Caine hesitated. It was not radar, but he usually did have a sense of his son's whereabouts and feelings. Slowly, he answered his son's friend. "It is not like that, Kermit. I can see what Peter sees, feel what he feels. I believe that Peter has been moved several times. He seemed very…distant. He did not know where he was, and yet… Now it seems that he is safe, but…something… still disturbs me."

"That doesn't sound good." The younger man said, hands clenching the steering wheel tighter.

"No, it is not. Can you drive … faster?" In answer, Kermit stepped on the gas.

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