As soon as he left his foster brother's garage, Travis made a quick call to detectives, Laroche and Cafferty for backup, then sped through the streets on his motorcycle toward the address Money had given him. It didn't take him very long to get there and it wasn't long after he arrived, that the rest of the detectives and cops did too, but instead of charging in right away, Travis gave the order for them to park down the street so as to not alert the criminals to their presence just yet.
"I doubt this will be easy, seeing as they're thieves, car smugglers, and murderers, but whatever you do, I need at least one of them alive," he said wearily as he looked ahead at the large warehouse his victims' killers lived and worked out of. "If they have Wes…"
"If they do have Wes, then we'll get one of these scum-sucking thugs to tell us where they have him and save him before any of these guys can hurt him anymore," Kate responded for him.
Travis nodded and replied, "Good. Let's do this and then get the hell out of here. Follow my lead."
Everyone stood behind Travis as he led the charge toward the warehouse, and as soon as the men and women inside saw the team of cops, they began shooting their guns wildly in order to try to avoid getting caught. Two cops were struck down, one of them being wounded critically, the other killed, while most of the criminals were killed as well. A bullet grazed Travis in the arm, but he didn't let it faze him as he was more concerned with getting to the bottom of the mess he was wrapped up in.
Once the fight was finished, Travis walked up to one of the survivors, the man that appeared to be in charge of whatever operation they were working on, shoved him hard up against a wall behind them, and then shouted angrily, "Where's my partner?"
"Who the hell is your partner?" the killer asked. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about. We don't have anybody here and you just killed most of us! Why the hell would I want to help you?"
"Tell me the truth, did you torture and kill a kid named Kyle Moore, then try to pay a bunch of thugs at a chop shop to break down the kid's hot new ride?" Travis asked, having seen the truth in the man's eyes when he asked about taking Wes.
The man glared at the detective as he answered coldly, "As I told you before, I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
Knowing that he was lying the second time around, Travis threw him down against the floor, picked him up again, and threw him back up against the wall, then frustratingly responded, "Wrong answer. I suggest you tell me the truth, or I'll go to one of your other surviving friends over there and ask them, but believe me, if I have to do that, then you won't like the consequences for your lack of cooperation. I've had pretty much the worst day of my life so far and if you don't help yourself at all, I will make you look like the kid you dumped out of your moving car like he was trash and my friends out there won't hold my actions against me. Why did you kill that kid?"
"My name is Bobby and I want a lawyer," he replied smugly, knowing that by asking for defense, he didn't have to say another word and the detective could no longer interrogate him without his own consequences. "I suggest you get off of me and turn me over to your friends now."
"You know your rights, but just because you won't give up the truth about killing Kyle, it doesn't mean that I can't prove it's you," Travis answered as he released him and let a few of the cops with him lead him away after cuffing his hands behind his back. "You sent the car to the wrong garage. I'll see you later, Bobby."
Kate and Amy walked over to him as Amy asked, "I'm surprised you didn't keep trying to strangle the guy."
As he walked back toward his bike, Travis replied coldly, "These guys aren't responsible for kidnapping Wes. That bastard was surprised when I asked him where they were keeping him, but when I asked him about killing Kyle, he became smug and defensive. Beating on him any longer won't help me or Wes. It would only make it so I can't help him any longer."
"You're getting wiser Travis," Kate stated. "A few months ago, you would have beaten him into the ground. I'm impressed."
"I know, but I'm not the same cop I was months ago," he answered coolly. "That's thanks to my partner. Now, we have to find a new lead. We may have figured out who killed Kyle, but we haven't tracked down all that money or figured out who hired these thugs. They weren't working alone."
Kate quickly asked, "How do you know that?"
Travis got back on his motorcycle and then responded, "Call it a hunch. That, and the fact that these guys stole and had plans to sell the 918 Spyder's parts to some buyer down in Mexico. Do you think that if they had just inherited ten million dollars after killing the kid, that they would even risk handing it off to some crummy chop shop?"
"No they wouldn't," Amy stated. "Just out of curiosity, how exactly did you manage to locate our killers and find the place they gave the vehicle to?"
"I have my ways," he replied as he slipped his helmet back on and looked at the women through his visor. "I'll meet you back at the station once you drop these guys off. I've got another errand to run first."
Wes slowly awoke feeling tired and weak, but tried to focus on his surroundings. However, everything was blurred and he quickly realized that he couldn't move his arms and legs, mostly because he discovered he was strapped down to some kind of gurney. He struggled to break free, but to no avail and it wasn't long before someone walked into the room, as Wes only heard him chuckle under his breath.
He still couldn't see much through the haze, but despite the fear of what he couldn't see, Wes struggled as he asked, "Who are you? Where am I and what do you want with me? Answer me!"
A man finally spoke up answering, "None of that's important right now, Detective Mitchell, but I promise you that for now, you're perfectly safe; for now."
"What did you do to me?" Wes continued as the grogginess he was feeling remained. "I can barely move and it's not because of these restraints. You gave me something."
"That's right, I did," the man responded. "It's only something to make sure you don't hurt yourself trying to escape. Even if you do manage to break free eventually, you won't get very far. I would just try to relax."
Wes fought through the fog and was finally able to see again, finding that the man standing over him was dressed in a white lab coat and that he was now wearing a bright orange jumpsuit like the many men and women they put away wore in prison, then he replied, "You can forget trying to get any kind of information from me. I won't help you and your friends get whatever you're after."
His captor picked up a syringe and emptied out some of its contents to test it, then injected the liquid into Wes' bloodstream as he answered coldly, "We already have what we're after, detective, and your partner won't be able to find you before we get what we need. What we have planned doesn't necessarily have to be painful for you, but I have a feeling that you'll do whatever you can to fight us, so for now, I'm preparing a sedative to help relax you. I'll be back later to check on you and then we'll get to work on prepping you for surgery. You're going to help to save a very close friend of mine's life in the morning. We're all much appreciated."
Wes couldn't fight the new drug slowly making its way through his system, making him feel even weaker and drowsier than before and it wasn't long before his eyelids closed and he was once again unconscious. The last thing he saw before the effects took hold was the smug smile the man above him had plastered across his face.