Later Friday morning, around 9:00 am

Jonathan Toews loved a good walk through his busy Chicago neighborhood. It was a little odd, but serendipitous and a little predictable, he lived just a block down from his buddy Patrick Kane’s house. Patrick was a kindred spirit and a great friend. They were two peas in a pod. They were almost so close, that they were like actual brothers. Jonathan always had Patrick’s back and vice versa.

On the ice, whenever an opponent would come up and pick on Patrick, Jonathan was there to defend his friend and set them straight. He would always stick up for his friend. About six years ago they had signed identical contracts with the Chicago organization on the same day and at the same time. So it somehow seemed natural for them to become best friends. They learned the ropes together.

They were Chicago’s Twins.

As he passed by Patrick’s house, he noticed it seemed strangely quite and looked as if on one was around. Actually, it had been silent there for the whole day now and Jonathan was starting to get worried. When he noticed that there was a stack of papers by the front door and the blinds were sill closed. Patrick always picked up the newspaper and opened his blinds as soon as he got up in the morning. He decided he’d better check things out. So he did a quick U-turn on his heels and jogged back up to his friend’s house. He hopped up the steps to the front door and knocked.

Staring at the large, elegant, mansion-like redwood doors, he backed away wondering what to do next. The doors were curved at the top. There was an amber colored half-moon clear glass window filling up the top of the doorframe. Swirls and curls were etched into the amber color. The doors of Jonathan’s house were similar, but his were mostly glass, instead of the wood.

He knocked again just in case.

There was no answer. No reply. Not a sound at all.

He tried again for a third time, this time even louder.

Still nothing.

He cocked his head, curiously and flummoxed. “Yo, Peeks, you in there, buddy! It’s just me, Jonathan!” He peered into the window but couldn’t see any sign of his friend and it didn’t help that the blinds were drawn. Was Patrick ignoring him on purpose? They did fight occasionally, but that was more ‘on the ice’ stuff. He was really perplexed. He didn’t remember bugging Patrick or having any argument or anything at all that would make him go incognito like this.

Still staring at the large, elegant redwood doors, he backed away slowly and wondered what to do next.

“Patrick!” he called again, wondering whether he should try the doors or knock.

Before he could make a decision, two squad cars pulled up to the house. Jonathan whirled around. Four policemen, three men and one woman, got out of the car. The captain shook his head. What did Patrick do now?

“Hello, officers! What did Patrick do now?”

“Morning,” came the growled response.

“He said he wasn’t going to get in anymore trouble. I talked to him about this. We just signed big eight-year contract extensions with Chicago, but that shouldn’t be an excuse to get wasted and do something dumb!”

The officers ignored him and pressed on with their mission.

Jonathan watched as the four Chicago Police Department officers made their move, quickly ascended the stairs. One, the female officer, motioned to the bewildered Blackhawk centre to take a seat on one of Patrick’s patio chairs on the front porch.The other three entered the house and sprinted up the stairs, two steps at a time. The door was unlocked. This seemed very unlike Patrick. It peaked Jonathan’s interest. It added more questions. Why would Patrick Kane, star Blackhawk winger leave his door unlocked like that. Something wasn’t right.

As he walked across the porch with the officer toward the chairs, passing by the ajar door, he spotted yellow tape already in place. His hands shot to his mouth instantly.

“W-what happened? Where’s Kaner? Where’s my friend, my teammate?”

Jonathan’s mind raced with a myriad of scary scenarios. As he was frantically yelling, the officer grabbed onto him, trying to get him to calm down. How the hell could he calm down, when his best friend might be hurt, or sick, or worst of all, he might be dead!!

“Mr. Toews! Mr. Toews, settle down please! Let’s have a talk!”

The Blackhawk captain was pulled to the side by the female officer and gently, but firmly made to sit in one of the chairs. His eyes glittered with tears and he looked frightened. He wanted answers!

“Please, tell me what’s going on! Why is there a crime scene in my friend’s house?”

The officer bent down on one knee, like she was going to propose to him. And he really thought she might. After all, he was a famous celebrity. Crazy fans did it all the time.

“Sir, we had a call come in last night around one o’clock. There was a disturbance that was heard coming from this house. A neighbor reported the noise and officers were dispatched to the residence. When they arrived the house was empty. I know you don’t want to hear it, but we found signs of a struggle: a broken lamp, a desk chair on its side and smashed glass all over the floor.”

Jonathan bit his lip. He felt sick to his stomach. He finally managed to croak out, “Where is Patrick Kane? Can I see him?”

The officer glanced down for a moment. She grabbed his hand in her own, holding it in a comforting way. Then she gazed into his terrified eyes. “I’m so sorry, but he’s not here. But that may be good news, since we’ve found no body. We have reason to suspect that he was kidnapped!”

Jonathan’s blood ran as cold as the Blackhawks’ ice hockey arena, the “United Center’s” ice. “No!” he gasped.

Who would do such a thing? Who would hurt his friend like this? Who would kidnap Chicago’s goal scorer?

Notes

Poor Tazer.... :(