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Predator	By : kattanon Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 1528 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Shield, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Predator Chapter 2.
Dutch searched his desk, and the floor around his desk, for his pen, knowing at once that the search was futile. He straightened up and leaned back in his chair, blowing out an annoyed breath. This was really starting to piss him off. It wasn�t funny anymore; not that he�d ever really found it amusing in the first place. It was just so juvenile. He wasn�t sure who was doing it, although he suspected someone on the Strike Team, probably Vendrell. It was the kind of high school mentality he�d come to expect from Vic Mackey�s "boys". Hell it was an attitude Mackey himself seemed to encourage, revel in even. However, when he�d confronted Vendrell about it a couple of days ago the guy had denied everything. He�d implied that maybe Dutch was starting to crack up under the pressure, becoming paranoid, imaging things. God, heavens help him, but maybe the ill-mannered redneck was right.
Claudette looked across at him from where she sat at her own desk, and with a slightly exasperated tone to her voice, she asked him,
"What is it this time?"
Glancing at her he shrugged as he replied,
"Another pen�Christ I must be keeping the stationary industry going single-handedly."
Claudette let out a little snort of amusement at his comment. Then reaching out to the little pot she kept on her desk, a little something her daughter Bonnie had presented her with one Mother�s Day when she was still in elementary school, she pulled out a spare pen, and chucked it over to Dutch,
"Here have one of mine."
"Thanks," he said with a sheepish smile, and he focused his attention on the incident report in front of him.
Claudette paused for a moment before returning to her own paperwork, and regarded her partner. She knew that he�d been putting the events of the past couple of weeks down to some childish prankster, but she wasn�t quite so sure if that was the correct interpretation of what was happening. To put it quite simply Dutch�s possessions kept going missing. Pens, notebooks, pencils, a tie, a handkerchief, and even the nameplate from the front of his desk. They�d all been there one minute, and then turn your back for a second, and they�d have mysteriously disappeared.
It had been driving Dutch nuts trying to figure out who could be doing it, and he was convinced the Strike Team had something to do with it. She�d wondered if it was them too, but a quiet word with Vic had convinced her otherwise. He�d assured her that none of them had had anything to do with it. Then he reminded her of his promise not to pull anymore stunts on Dutch after she�d had words with him when she�d discovered it was him, and his team, that were continually stealing Dutch�s chair when The Barn had first opened. That incident had ticked her off because she found that the line between a little work-place ribbing, and full-blown bullying was often a thin one. Of course Dutch had never found out that she�d stepped in on his behalf, all he knew was the chair stealing had stopped, and while he�d tried to shrug it off as unimportant, Claudette had noticed his relief.
Claudette hastily repressed the sigh that had been about to escape from her mouth, not wanting Dutch to hear it, and perhaps realize she�d been studying him. Looking down at the papers in front of her she tried to concentrate on the job at hand. She actually managed to stay focused on her work pretty well until a voice off to her left caused her to look up again.
"Hey, Dutch are you busy?"
She felt a little spike of annoyance flash through her as she recognised that voice as belonging to Nick Johannson. She didn�t know why, but she really couldn�t stand the man. She even felt a little guilty for her almost irrational dislike of him. She acknowledged that she certainly seemed to be in the minority where her opinion of Johannson was concerned. Everybody seemed to love the guy, and really what was there not to like. He was polite and pleasant, a good cop, always ready to do you a favour, help you out if you needed it. He fitted in with the guys, and yet didn�t treat the female officers as inferior, or as sex objects. Nick Johannson was everybody�s friend, and Claudette loathed him. He made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she just didn�t know why.
When she looked across towards Dutch again, at the sound of Johannson�s voice, hrritrritation with the man went up a notch or two, when she noted he was sitting on the corner of Dutch�s desk. Jesus, for some reason she really hated it when he did that and again it seemed to be a completely irrational reaction, and that realisation just irked her even more.
At Johannson�s question Dutch had looked up, and smiled, putting his pen down he replied,
"Nothing that can�t wait Nick. What do you need?"
"Well," Johannson said, " I�m trying to get a handle on the motives of my homeless guy�s killer, and I know you�re a bit of an expert in profiling techniques, so I wondered if you could spare me ten minutes to give me some help?"
Dutch flushed slightly at Johannson�s praise, and stood up saying,
"Oh�sure no problem, but I wouldn�t exactly say I�m an expert."
"Ah, that�s not what I hear. I�ve heard all about that "Streetwalker Strangler" case you cracked, and the way you figured out there was a serial killer on the loose before anyone else. You�re just being too modest Dutch."
"Yeah well�" Dutch said, becoming a little flustered, just like he always did when someone praised him up.
As Claudette watched they both turned towards Johannson�s desk, and as they began to move towards it Johannson told Dutch,
"All my paperwork�s over here."
Then he reached up and rested his hand lightly, and briefly, on the small of Dutch�s back.
Dutch didn�t seem to take any notice of the slight touch, but Claudette felt a shiver go down her spine at the sight of it.
Johannson was always doing that she�d noticed, always touching Dutch. A hand on his back, his shoulder, on his arm, always touch, touch, touch. It might not have bothered her so much if Johannson was just a tactile kinda guy. She knew perfectly well that some people were just naturally more touchy-feely than others. However, from what she�d observed all of Johannson�s touchy-feely was strictly reserved for Dutch, and she didn�t like it.
Surprisingly Dutch didn�t seem to mind at all. In fact, she wasn�t entirely sure if he noticed just how much Johansson touched him. Dutch just seemed pleased, and a little flattered, that a guy like Johannson seemed to like him. She knew this was a manifestation of Dutch�s insecurities, and it was kinda like being back at high school again, where it felt so good to be liked by the cool, popular kids. He�d seemed genuinely shocked, and puzzled, the one time she�d mentioned that she didn�t like Johannson, and her own inability to explain why hadn�t helped to sway him to her way of thinking.
Turning away from the two men with a frown Claudette suddenly realised that she wasn�t the only one watching them, and from the expression on Vic�s face she wasn�t the only one who didn�t like what they were seeing.
Suddenly sensing her scrutiny Vic looked towards her, and for a second their eyes locked. A second was all Claudette needed to note the concern, and discomfort, in Vic�s eyes. Then Vic looked away and walked quickly into the bathroom. Sensing that Vic knew something about Johannson, and whatever that knowledge was it was bothering him, Claudette got up and followed him.
When she pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside Vic was just exiting the cubicle. She noticed that he winced slightly when he saw it was her, but quickly covered it saying,
"It�s all yours." As he indicated the now empty cubicle behind him.
Than he made his way over to the sink, and began to wash his hands.
Claudette didn�t say anything, and didn�t move, leaning back against the door silently watching Vic. He tried to ignore her, but he couldn�t stand the silent scrutiny, and as he dried his hands on a paper towel he finally gave up the pretense, and said,
"What?"
"What do you know about Johannson?" Claudette asked him.
Vic shrugged and replied,
"Not a lot. He seems nice enough; he�s a good cop. What else is there to know?"
A cold smile formed on her face as she listened to the tone of Vic�s voice, as opposed to the actual words he used, and she said,
"You don�t like him anymore than I do. But why? He strikes me as just your type of guy. So what do you know about him that makes you dislike him?"
Vic shrugged, but refused to meet her eye, as he tried to be evasive,
"I don�t know what you�re talking about Claudette. I don�t know him well enough to have an opinion about him one way or the other. Now if you�ll excuse me I�ve got work to do."
He took a step towards the door, but Claudette didn�t move, and still barred his way from it.
"I saw the look on your face just now Vic, the look in your eyes while you watched him and Dutch together. What did you see that worried you?"
Vic�s face hardened, and he sounded annoyed when he told her,
"I don�t know what you�re talking about Claudette. Now can you please move."
Hesitating briefly Claudette finally stood to one side to let him pass. As Vic reached out, and grasped the door handle, pulling open the door, she said to him in a quiet voice,
"Dutch is my partner Vic, if you know something that I should know I�d appreciate a head�s up."
Vic didn�t look at her, but he did pause half way out of the door, and he replied,
"Just keep an eye on him Claudette," Vic laughed softly, although the sound of it chilled Claudette as it seemed devoid of any mirth, before he continued, "keep as much of an eye on him as Johannson does."
Then, with that cryptic comment, he was gone, leaving Claudette with a lot to think about.
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Predator