Once again, Travis walked into the prison to have another chat with his foster brother, despite the warden's objections because of the lateness of the hour, as Captain Sutton called in a favor so that his detective could make the visit, and when Jason was escorted in, this time being cuffed to the table, Jason glared up at his brother as he smugly said, "Two visits in one day. I'm flattered."
Travis quickly replied, "Don't be. I'm not here to see how you're doing."
"Then why are you here again so soon?" Jason asked curiously.
"Who did you talk to after we left earlier?" Travis asked, hoping to be able to read Jason's face in search of some kind of deceit. "Are the guards awarding you any kind of phone privileges?"
Jason chuckled, then responded, "No, I have not been awarded any phone privileges. I believe you know that because you made sure that I wasn't to be given any privileges. Why do you want to know? Where's your partner tonight?"
Travis finally sat down across from his brother and answered coldly, "Wes was kidnapped a few hours after we talked earlier."
"And you thought it was me who made the call for some of my old friends to come out and kidnap him?" Jason asked stoically. "Why would I do that?"
"Maybe because you're pissed at me for putting you in here, for not sticking up for you because we are brothers," Travis replied in anger. "Maybe you did it because you felt it was a good idea to kidnap a cop so that you could use him as leverage to get out of here, rather than rot in here for the rest of your life. I don't really care. I want to know the truth. Did you hire thugs to kidnap him?"
Jason continued to stare at Travis as he responded, "I didn't, but I wish I thought of that. It sounds like a good idea."
Believing that his foster brother was telling the truth, Travis stood again and then answered, "It isn't. I suggest you be good in here, Jason. You'll be much better off if you continue to be a reputable prisoner. Then, maybe in a few years you'll be able to earn a few extra privileges. If I find out that you're lying to me, that you are responsible for having my partner taken, I will make you regret it."
"There isn't anything more you can do to me," Jason replied.
"I wouldn't bet on that," Jason responded coldly, then turned and left the room, leaving Jason alone again until the guards walked back in order to take him to his cell.
Nearly twelve hours later…
Wes woke up again, still feeling weary, but not as dizzy as he had the first time he awoke however long ago it had been. Once again he worked to break free from the restraints that were binding him to the gurney he was laid on, but just as before, his struggles were pointless. The straps held tight, so he laid his head back and focused on trying to figure out where he was being held. There was only one small window up near the ceiling in the far corner of the room, but it was mostly boarded up and so all he could see was a little bit of light coming through the cracks, letting him know that it was some time in the day, not night like it was before.
It wasn't long before Wes was pulled away from his thoughts, as the same man from earlier once again walked into the room and as he did, Wes turned his head to look at his captor and said, "I know you."
The man nodded as he answered, "That's right, we met briefly last night."
"No, we've met before last night," Wes replied as he stared up at the ceiling. "I just don't exactly remember where right now, as my mind's a little hazy still, thanks to whatever you drugged me with."
"Don't worry detective, that was nothing you have to be concerned about," the man continued. "It's what we're going to do to you that you're not going to like. How are you feeling? Any nausea or queasiness?"
Wes suddenly realized where it was he recognized the man standing over from, then spoke up saying coldly, "You're the paramedic from the blood drive; the one who drew my blood."
The man looked down at Wes as he responded, "You have a good memory."
"I pay attention to detail," the detective stated. "My partner says I'm obsessive compulsive and anal retentive. He's right, but I won't tell him that to his face. What is it that you want with me? The truth."
"You're blood matches what we've been looking for, for some time now," his captor answered as he turned toward the medical equipment and supplies set up on a table nearby the gurney, making Wes look too. "AB+ is the rarest blood type a person can have and it can only be donated to someone else with the same blood type, same as your organs and tissues. While you've been resting comfortably, I've been doing more blood work having drawn more of your blood and tissue and so far, everything's looking just perfect."
Wes' eyes grew cold as he glared at the paramedic, then he asked angrily, "What exactly are you planning to take from me? Who am I being used for to save?"
The man smiled as he replied, "As I said before, you're saving a close friend of mine. It's unfortunate for you that you happen to be the perfect specimen, but I promise we'll take good care of you."
"You're only a paramedic," Wes responded. "And I can see it in your eyes. I'm as good as dead. You don't plan on letting me go, even if I can survive this shoddy operation you're prepping me for. And you and your friends won't survive for long either. My partner and the rest of the LAPD will hunt you all down. I can promise you that."
"They can try," he answered confidently. "We're smarter than you think we are and they'll never think to look for us here inside the smallest jail here in Los Angeles County. To everyone around here, you look just like another prisoner thanks to the new jumpsuit we fitted you with when we brought you in here and I'm the new doctor as far as the warden and guards know. Now, I suggest you rest. I have a few more tests to finish and then we can begin."