EXT. SANTA MONICA PIER – NIGHT

The famous fishing pier neon sign blinks as the camera slowly PANS past it to a lonely bench along the deserted bike path. A figure emerges from the shadows -- it’s our man Napolitano, illuminated by the flashing lights and a sad excuse for a street light flickering above his head.
He scans the horizon and sits down on the bench. In the b.g., waves CRASH against the shore. Napolitano yawns, stretches and, finally overtaken by the events of the long, strange day, begins to nod off. The RINGING of his cell phone startles him awake. He checks the number, answers it.

It’s the electronically distorted voice of the kidnapper.