The ride to the Hamptons, despite the fact someone was going to die, was very beautiful. The gently sloping green hills merged perfectly with the edge of the trees on one side of the road and the water on the other began to expand to the horizon giving a perfect scene for someone to walk to and enjoy nature. A living painting. The golden rays of the sun lit and the wind kissed the water's surface bringing the joyful, gentle rustle. Like a lover's leg dragging along the surface of a bed's sheets. The peaceful sway of trees wavering and nodding like God's bobblehead dolls.

Okay leave the metaphors to the artist.

Rick strapped his helmet back on.

He had to fuel up and he had just checked in with Kate.

The sun wasn't quite ready to set but it was getting close to evening. After lunch, before dinner. Dunch. Maybe Linner. Whatever.

Kate was safe and she was telling Josh and Alex what she could. It wasn't easy and he was hoping he could get there soon and fill everybody in.

The motorcycle, a Harley Fatboy, rumbled and pushed him to the road where he opened up the throttle and got moving again. He hoped he wasn't going to be too late.

! #

The mustang was crap. But it was crap enough to get him where he wanted to go. It drifted to the right and he constantly had to tinker with the steering wheel to get it back on the road. The radio didn't pick up any music and CD player was playing some 1980's crap German progressive rock band that he had stopped really listening to about twenty miles back. The woman to his right had already gone through several rounds of crying and begging while she was gagged. Now she seemed resigned to her fate. Her bound hands still probably hurt like hell but it wasn't his concern. The duct tape that was wrapped around her to keep her restrained was the important part. She had stopped trying to get out of that long before she stopped crying.

"Who is this?" Montgomery said, indicating the music.

She looked at him with all the sarcasm a gagged, tear stained face woman could and mumbled something.

"What are they German? They sound German."

She nodded plainly.

The singer stopped his deep droll cadence and ascended to something on the higher end.

The drummer kicked in the double bass action and the guitarist apparently grew a third hand and began to play something don't by the pick up's and on the lower end.

"How'd they do that? Is that computer's and stuff?"

Realizing she couldn't speak he took the duct tape of her mouth and took out the sock.

"They're Biritululo." She said while spitting out the fuzz in her mouth. It took everything in her power to not think about where the sock came from.

"The band? What's that mean?" He asked in a friendly manner.

"It doesn't really translate. From New Guinea. Means to settle a dispute by comparing dick size."

"Really?" He smiled. He felt comfortable with that explanation.

"Two guitarists are making that sound. Carl is playing the seven string and Lionel is playing the double guitar. Like the one Jimmy Page played in Stairway to Heaven. Hammer on and pull off on the bottom and finger tapping on the fret board on the top one to make that harmonic chirping sound. Like Eddie Van Halen."

Montgomery nodded drawing the mental image of the double guitar and dexterous hands moving back and forth while some guy with a long beard (he wasn't sure why he had a long beard but his guitar playing sounded like he had a long beard) plays impossible cords with huge, meaty, spidery hands.

"We're getting close to town. I have to let you go now." He said.

Then another round of tears came down her face.

"Hey! Don't cry! Come on now." He encouraged her to stop.

"I'm not gonna kill you. Like I said I just needed to borrow your car. You see the gun I had?"

She nodded her.

"It's not even loaded!"

He put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Click.

"See, Karen? Nothin'. I'm just going to stop up here before the gas station a little ways and I'll let you out. I swear to God if you try anything though I will dance in the spray of your blood. Got that?"

She nodded slightly.

"My name's Janice." She corrected.

"Really? You look like a Karen. You sure you're not a Karen?"

He scratched his temple with the barrel of the gun.

"I can be Karen." She said.

"Now see you can't be Karen. You can't be. You're Janice. Get it?"

She sat motionless.

"Get it? You're Janice."

Finally she nodded as he pulled over.

"I'm really sorry Janice we just got off on the wrong foot. Here take my card." He pulled out a small business card like piece of paper and put it in her hand.

"Has anyone ever shown you how a silencer works?"

Not knowing how to react she shook her head.

"It's a misnomer. It doesn't silence anything. But it drops the decibel level down to something that can be covered up. Just put this piece of metal over the end here…"

He did.

"… and voila it sounds like the safety being taken off the gun."

He turned the music up loud and put the gun to her temple then pulled the trigger.

He got out of the car and began walking towards the last gas station before Kate Beckett's posh home in the Hampton's.

Short I know but it's all I got right now. Hope you enjoyed.