Tulskiy Tokarev Page #3

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game, you know that!

- How long have we known each other?

- Since the massacre at the Four P's...

- Yes, fifteen years, Pete.

- Yeah, I know you.

Right! You do, you know me.

I just don't want you fallin' back

on any of the old habits.

Let us handle this our way,

all right, Paul?

Okay, fine, what's your way?

Well, we drop it on

the News right away.

Within, if it sits on your history.

How many times do we

have to tell you, that he's clean?

One of two things

is going-down here,

the kidnappers either

know you or they don't.

If they don't, then the fear of who

they're messin' with is our best asset.

Once they hear, they'll probably drop

her off at a gas station somewhere

and she's back by lunch tomorrow.

And if they know me?

They'll be in contact,

and we'll be there.

We have a top on your phone.

Either myself or Detective

Hansen will be here at all times.

Paul, we'll find her.

You better.

Why, Paul?

Why Caitlin?

- You didn't...?

- You, too?

I'm sorry.

- I just...

- If I had any idea

who did this...

just one...

You find her.

Do what you have to do.

Whatever it takes,

you just bring her home.

Two unidentified male classmates

were injured in that home invasion

they're expected to

make a full recovery.

Caitlin Maguire is five-six,

one hundred and five pounds,

with long brown hair and blue eyes.

If you have any information that

could help in the investigation

and search for Caitlin...

Move! Let's go!

Go, go, Danny, go!

- I'm gonna go out.

- Go out?

I can't just sit here,

waiting for the phone to ring, knowing

she's out there somewhere, scared.

And I'm supposed to

stay here all by myself?

There's cops all over the house.

That's not what I meant.

Please.

Be safe, okay?

Where are we off to?

Hey!

It'd be best if you just

stay here by the phone.

Shouldn't you be out somewhere

looking for my daughter?

- We're doin' everything we can.

- So am I.

Paul!

I'm so sorry,

Eleanor, please, I need

to speak with your son.

Wow!

You got all these awards.

You know, I started dating

Mary when I was seventeen.

That was Caitlin's mom, Mary.

Your seventeen, right?

Yeah.

I remember once we were

on this date down by the shore...

summertime,

hot as sh*t, just wouldn't cool off.

Anyway, this Puerto

Rican looking shithead

comes walking down

the beach, and

calls Mary a slut.

You believe that sh*t?

Calling a nice, Irish, Catholic girl

like that a slut, well...

needless to say, I had

to defend her honor,

because that's what gentlemen do,

they protect women.

So I went and I got the

tire iron out of the

trunk of my car and I

broke both of his legs.

I'm not like that anymore.

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