A Hope Waiting In The Dark

Think Logically

The phone on Danny's desk rang a few hours later. Before he could say hello, a voice started talking.
"Sam, we're at 1845 in the rundown hot dog factory, in Hoboken."
Danny's eyes went wide and he quickly grabbed a pad, writing down the information.
"1845 hotdog factory, Hoboken. Ya got that?"
"Yeah, I got it," he lowered his voice and mimicked the other man's accent.
"Hey, Sam, you okay, brother?"
"Just got a cold."
"Ah, well, get better, Sammy. Oh, bring your A-game. Blondie's squirmish today."
The detective's mouth dropped open, and it took everything in him not to yell. "Ya got it, brother."
"How far away are you?"
He quickly did the math, "eight hours."
Baez came up to her desk, confused as to why her partner was talking the way he was. She watched him put his fingers to his lips.
"Had someone to take care of in Manhattan."
What? Baez mouthed, wanting an answer.
"Be there soon as I can..." Danny hung up, "I think that was the rapist."
"What?" She watched Danny grab his gun and phone, heading quickly towards the door. "Wait, Danny!" She quickly followed him, "where are we going?"
"To the one guy who can give us all we need."
**********
"No, that's not what this is," Frank told Garrett as they argued over what to do with the current situation.
"I think it's exac-"
"Dad, we need the best officers on an ESU team, and we need 'em now."
"Your son's here, sir," Baker stood in the door frame.
"Thank you, Baker." Frank looked at Danny, "Detective?"
"No time for formalities, Dad. I think we just blew this whole case outta the water."
Baez looked at the confused expression on the pc's face, "What Detective Reagan is trying to say is that we may or may not have gotten Linda's kidnapper."
"He called me, Dad," Danny hadn't stopped pacing since he barged in, "he must've dialed the wrong number, but we know where she is."
"Slow down," Frank lightly warned, "Detective, I know the victim is your wife, but try to think logically. What's another reason he may have called you?"
Danny sighed, and stopped pacing. "Right, right. Uh..."
"Maybe he wants us to come in there, guns a-blazing." Baez stepped up, "remember, he thinks your Sam. Whoever the hell that is."
"Sam, Sam..." he snapped his fingers, "Sam the Sham. That's a thing, right?"
"Sam The Shan and The Pharaohs. A band from the sixties," Frank looked at his son.
Danny groaned, "this is so much harder when my wife's involved!"
"Oh!" Baez smiled widely, "you have his number. Get TARU to find it. Call the guy back. Say.... you've got a new victim or new drugs or something that'll sell. Tell him you're gonna be wearing all black or somethin'. If you wear all black, or tell him what you're going to be wearing, not only does it give you a slightly upper hand, but he'll know what to look for."
"Partner, you may just be a genius. Let's go." Danny rushed out the door.
"I've got his six," Baez told the commissioner, resting the wedge to wink.
"Good. Thank you."