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The events depicted in this story parallel those depicted in 12-String: 8 and follow the events depicted in Obsession: 1

Lyle looked around the precinct, wondering what he'd done to land this case. He wasn't entirely sure that Gretchen Anderson had been abducted, but he had a lot of powerful people breathing down his neck to make this case happen.

"Why me?"

"Lyle, it was you because you finished your last case too quickly. Take a note from me: Slow down. Relax. Solve your cases at a more leisurely pace." Tony Kowalski was a good cop who liked to pretend that he wasn't. In the six months that they'd been partners, Lyle still hadn't figured out what made Tony tick.

Lyle shook his head. He knew that he wouldn't be able to do something like that. Finishing cases to the best of his ability was part of the reason that he'd become a cop. He wanted to help people and to prevent crime where he could.

But this case. . .

His phone rang. "Detective Jensen."

"Hello, Detective. My name is Richard Fields. I'm Gretchen's uncle."

"Look, Mr. Fields. You need to just be patient about all of this. She hasn't even been gone for more than a couple of hours. Usually we only allow reporting of missing people twenty four hours after the fact."

"And we explained this already. She recently had major surgery and wouldn't be able to go out on her own. All of her friends are accounted for, and none of them helped her to leave."

"Her boyfriend probably. . ."

"Her girlfriend is in California, and before you ask, yes she left without Gretchen. We called you all because her girlfriend told us that she has a stalker that we didn't know about previously."

"Most stalker cases involving regular people. . ."

"Her girlfriend is up and coming rocker Desdemona."

Lyle had no idea who Desdemona was, but figured that he couldn't put this off any longer. Not that he wanted to, really, it's just that it was too soon according to most protocols, and he like fitting things into their proper contexts.

"Ok, start from the beginning."

"Desdemona signed with Spotlight Productions yesterday. She spent all day in the studio, and was then scheduled to come in today to work on her debut album some more. Last night she realized that she had a stalker, who delivered some flowers to her motel room."

"How does she know it wasn't just a new fan?"

"Stalker was her term, and she mentioned something about knowing her schedule. I can give you her phone number if you like."

"Not right now. Ok, so who had access to her schedule?"

"The other two members of her band and the Spotlight staff."

"Well, thank goodness for small favors. I assume you just mean the local staff?"

"Yes."

"Thanks for the information. Is there a number where I can reach you?"

"Yes, it's. . ." Lyle wrote down the number and hung up. He sat there for a moment thinking about his next move.

"Hey, Kowalski, you ever heard of a Desdemona?"

"Isn't she some sort of goth punk rocker that all the kids are talking about?"

"Of course. I should have known that if it was underage and had boobs that you'd know all about it."

"Hey, a guy has to have standards."

"Yeah, low ones."

"I resemble that remark."

"The prosecution rests."

They both chuckled a bit before Lyle continued. "Seriously. You think she would be the type to stage a kidnapping for publicity?"

"Well, consider this, Jensen: Did they tell the media?"

Lyle considered for a moment, and then spoke. "Not that I know of, especially since Kate hasn't given me a call." Kate was a friend who worked for the Salt Lake Tribune on the crime desk. If this story was news, she would call him to find out about it. He still had nightmares about the phone call after the Elizabeth Smart kidnapping.

"If they didn't call the media, then what publicity would they get out of it?"

"Good point." Lyle looked up the local number for Spotlight Productions and gave them a call.

"Spotlight Records, this is Mindy speaking."

"Hello, Mindy. My name is Detective Jensen with the Salt Lake Police Department. I'm interested in some information regarding your employees. Apparently, one of your clients is complaining about being stalked by what seems could only be one of your employees."

"It's not Holly Hansen complaining again is it? She is a bit paranoid and. . ."

"No, it's Desdemona, but I'll be interested to talk to you about Ms. Hansen later."

"Desdemona?"

"She apparently signed with you yesterday?"

"Let me check. . .ah here we are. Wow, a full use contract. Not too many of those yet. Why would she think someone here was stalking her?"

"Apparently the person knew her schedule, and only herself and her band members knew that."

"Hmm. Let's see. The sound tech knew it. Mr. Praetor of course and. . .apparently one of our interns knew her schedule as well. Angela quit today, though, so I'm not sure it would be her."

Lyle had a thought. "Did this Angela also have dealings with Ms. Hansen?"

"Now that you mention it, yes she did. Angela started working here just before Ms. Hansen started complaining about being stalked."

"Mindy, your company better hope that these incidents aren't linked, or you may be criminally liable for the abduction of a young woman."

"What would the police have done even if we had reported it?"

"Whether or not we did anything would be our responsibility. Your behavior quite possibly put Ms. Hansen at risk, and allowed a dangerous person to remain unnoticed. Do you have a home address for Angela. . ."

"Angela O'Hare. Yes I have one, but I'm not sure that I should be giving it to you without a warrant."

"Ok, we will pursue other avenues while we wait for that. Thank you for your time, Mindy."

Lyle hung up the phone and Kowalski tossed his jacket at him. "While you were sweet talking the receptionist, I found the motel that Desdemona stayed at last night. I've already called the forensics team and they are on their way. We should meet them out there."

Lyle drove and they pulled into the parking lot. The area was already cordoned off, and the lab techs were going in and out. "Henry, what have you got?"

"I've told you I prefer Hank, Lyle. This room was bugged. Something definitely happened here last night. Ms. Desdemona never actually checked out of the room, so no one came in to clean it. That's both good and bad for us at the same time."

"Give me some good news."

"The card that came with the flowers has three sets of prints on it, so we can assume that one set is from the florist, another is probably Desdemona, and the third would be our stalker."

"Get those to the lab to be analyzed."

"Already sent them off and they are being checked as we speak."

Hank's phone rang and he picked up. "Hello? Hank speaking. . .uh huh. . .ok. . .I'll let the Detective know."

"What's up?"

"No hits on the other two sets of prints yet, but we have someone on their way to the florist to get a set of elimination samples. One of them just came up as a Keith Robison. Apparently he was printed as a child."

"Thank goodness for small favors. We have an address for mister Robison?"

"Yeah, they already texted the address to your phone."

"Wow, that's a long way out there. Thanks, Hank. We have to run. Kowalski, let's go."

They went out to their car and drove out of town. This would be out of their jurisdiction so they called the Juab county sheriff's office on the radio about the time they hit Provo.

"County Sheriff. How can we help you boys?"

"We're pursuing a lead in an abduction case down in your neck of the woods and wanted to give you a heads up. We're heading to the house of a suspect."

"Just give us the address and we'll meet you out there."

They made good time, as they weren't even trying to obey the speed limit, and pulled up behind the an SUV with a sheriff's decal on the door. "Sheriff Wyman." The man who got out said as he offered them his hand.

"I'm Detective Jensen and this piece of work is my partner Detective Kowalski."

"You guys want to take lead on this, since it's your case?"

"We have no problem with that," Kowalski replied.

They walked up to the door and knocked. A pretty, middle aged woman answered the door. "Hello, ma'am. I'm Detective Jensen, and this is Kowalski. Is a Keith Robison here?"

"What did he do this time? I knew hanging out with that Anderson kid would lead him to no good."

"He knows Gretchen Anderson?"

"Yes, they are 'involved'."

"Thanks for your time."

Lyle took out his phone and dialed Mr. Fields' phone number.

"Hello, This is Richard."

"I just had an interesting conversation with a Mrs. Robison who told me that a Keith Robison is Gretchen's boyfriend. Would you like to revise your earlier statement?"

". . .Keith is Desdemona."

Lyle blinked a couple of times, opened his mouth to speak, closed his mouth again.

"Detective Jensen?"

"Wait, Desdemona is female right?"

"Ok, just listen for a moment, and say nothing. We are trying to keep as few people as possible in the loop. Eventually it will likely get out, but until then, we'd like to try to at least keep this private. Keith Robison is a natural male Soprano. He took on the persona of Desdemona to perform. It is a legal alias, so I broke no laws referring to him as Desdemona."

Lyle shook his head. "Ok, this information would have saved us a run all the way out the BFE to Keith's house."

"While you're there, you may want to look at the crime scene. As far as we can tell, she was abducted from her home next door."

"North or south."

"North."

"We'll check it out." Lyle hung up the phone and walked next door to Gretchen's house. "Kowalski, apparently our victim lived next door. Keith is a non starter."

"What. . ."

"Don't worry about it. Trust me. It's a lifestyles of the rich and famous thing. You really don't want to know."

"Ok, well, let's take a look around."

Kowalski walked up to the front door, while Lyle looked around the bushes. "Hey, Kowalski. What was that intern's name again?"

"Amy. . .Andrea. . .no Angela."

"Bingo. Looks like we have a winner. You happen to snag an evidence bag while you were chatting up Lanie at the motel."

"What else is Lanie good for, Jensen."

Lyle turned the bag inside out around his hand and used it to pick up the badge from the ground. He then pulled the bag carefully around the badge and sealed the bag.

"Let's get this back up to the lab."

They drove their new evidence up to the lab and then awaited the results, even though it was beginning to get late.

They dropped off the Id badge.

Lyle made a quick call to the county clerk.

"It seems our warrant for the address on Angela came through. Let's go get it."

The Spotlight Productions building looked like any other building on the block. Nothing about the outside suggested that it was the home to a recording studio. Lyle suspected that this would be the case for many such establishments.

They walked in and up to the front desk.

"I'm Detective Jense, and this is my partner Detective Kowalski. We have a warrant to obtain the personal information for a former employee of yours, an Angela. . .actually I never got her last name."

"I have it right here for you detective. I'm sorry that I couldn't give you any more information over the phone, but privacy issues. You understand."

"Unfortunately. Thanks for your time."

They drove to the address listed, which turned out to be a long term hotel near the freeway. They lights above the managers cage were yellowed and created more shadows than anything else.

"We're looking for an Angela Harrows. She listed this as her residence."

"You boys are too late, I'm sorry to say. Angela moved out last week, not that she ever really lived here. She would show up once every couple of days to collect her mail, but that's about it."

"You remember her specifically?"

"A guy doesn't forget tits and ass like that," the manager said with a leer.

"Thanks for your time." Lyle really would have preferred never to have dealt with the manager at all, but sometimes there was no avoiding the seedier element when pursuing justice.

"Well, that was a bust. So, Jensen, back to the lab to await the results?"

"Nothing better to do right now. Lead the way, Kowalski."

"Lyle?" Asked Hank as he came into the lounge where the two detectives were waiting.

"Yes, Hank?"

"Fingerprints on the ID match the third set of unknowns on the card that came with the flowers. If we had something to match them to. . ."

"You've done enough on this, Hank, why don't you go get some sleep."

"Sometimes I really wish that reality was like a TV show. We'd catch a break right about now, and everything would resolve before the final commercial break."

"Don't I know it. Unfortunately, more often than not we're just not able to save the victim. Or we get there too late. Or any of a number of other problems that we are faced with that those cop dramas aren't."

Lyle and Kowalski went their separate ways home: Kowalski to his wife and kids, and Lyle to his dog. It's not that he didn't want a family, it's just that it had never been the right time for him. Something had always gotten in the way. Like this case now. He found himself wondering if Tracy Robison would mind going on a date during the middle of an investigation involving her son's girlfriend. . .

"Stupid idea, Lyle, and you know it," he said aloud to himself. He sat down next to his dog and scratched her between the ears while watching reruns of shows he hadn't wanted to watch when they were new.

"You know, girl, sometimes I wonder if this is it. Is this all life is meant to be? Going to work. Going home. Going to sleep. Day in and day out? Shouldn't there be some deeper meaning to it all? Makes you want to find religion, doesn't it."

After a valiant effort to get into the current sitcom offering, Lyle went to bed. He slept fitfully, his dreams trying to make sense of a case that was simply lacking in enough evidence to solve.

It was nearly ten o'clock before any new leads in the abduction came across his desk.

"Lyle, our stalker seems to be a creature of habit. Over the past year he purchased the same setup from the video store on six different occasions. As luck would have it, the first time he visited the store, he filled out a contact card, so we have his telephone number and email address."

"He?"

"Yeah, he started cross-dressing about seven months ago, but facial recognition software has confirmed it as the same person on the surveillance footage in the store."

"Ok, let's get this bastard."

Three hours later, warrant in hand, Lyle, Kowalski, and a bevy of other officers arrived at the address associated with the land line that had been left at the store.

"This explains it."

"Explains what, Kowalski."

"Well, Jensen, it explains everything. Only a rich prick would buy the same top of the line equipment repeatedly and leave it on site. He probably never even considered it would lead us right to him."

Lyle began handing out pictures of Andrew both in and out of his "Angela" disguise. "We're going to try to get him to let us in there voluntarily, but we will break in if we have to." With that Lyle, followed by Kowalski, walked up to the front door. The door chime resonated.

Andrew answered the door. "Sir, can I ask you to step outside please."

"Is there something wrong?"

"We have this warrant to. . ."

Andrew turned and ran. "I hate it when they run." Lyle said as he and Kowalski watched him disappear. "Don't they know that this isn't a cop show?"

They heard a scuffle from the far side of the house and walked through it in time to see Andrew being lead away in cuffs from his own back yard.

"It's like they think we would actually leave him a way out."

"Yeah, Jensen, some people are just ignorant that way."

They searched the house for twenty minutes but couldn't find any sign of Gretchen anywhere. Lyle kept returning to the rear corner of the basement. "Kowalski, something just seems off here. The geometry doesn't match."

"That and this room smells like fresh paint."

"It does? I must be catching a cold or something, find something and let's get through this wall."

The sheetrock gave easily, but right behind it they found a brick wall.

"This definitely doesn't seem standard. I have a really bad feeling about this, Jensen."

"Me too. Get someone to being a ram in here. We need to get through this wall as quickly as we can."

A couple of good hits and they'd broken a hole through the brick wall. It was pitch black in the other side.

"Someone get me a light," Lyle said and a flashlight was thrust into his outstretched hand.

He shone the light into the darkness and saw the unmoving form of a naked girl. Her thighs were covered in blood.

"Get this wall down now!"

It took precious minutes to get a hole in the wall big enough to permit anyone to get through, and Lyle was the first one in. The air tasted a little stale.

He rushed to Gretchen's side and checked for a pulse. Her chest rose and fell, and she had a weak, but steady, pulse. He let out the breath that he hadn't consciously been holding.

"Get the EMTs out here! We need to get this girl moved and safe. Someone get me a blanket to cover her with!"

Twenty minutes later, as the ambulance raced away with Gretchen in the back, Lyle considered everything that had happened over the past twenty four hours. If Mr. Fields hadn't insisted they do something. . .

If they hadn't been able to track the video equipment. . .

If the little shit hadn't filled out that contact card. . .

"Remember that conversation we had last night, Kowalski?"

"Yep."

"I'm glad that sometimes we get lucky."

"Me too, buddy. Me too. I hope she makes it."

"So do I."