Second Contact

Despite the best efforts of everyone involved, the investigative team found nothing of any value, the only hairs were identified as belonging to Gil. Other than that, there was nothing.

Back at the Justice building annex, Abel was required to surrender his phone to IT, getting a replacement.

He had hoped because the possible kidnapper had made contact through him he would be invited into the case, but he wasn’t, instead Tom handed it over to Beckett and his partner Davies and relegated Abel back to the basement. He was supremely pissed but there was fuck all he could do about it, at the end of the day it was Trager’s call.

Surly mood etched visibly on his face, Abel left the office. Knowing there was nothing to eat in his apartment, he parked his car in the underground garage and then walked down to the little avant-garde bistro just up the block from his place. Sitting himself at a table, he ordered a soup and sandwich combo and a sparkling water, replaying the text conversation in his head. Why was the word, ‘little’ capitalized in that one response? From the look of the picture Gil had been trussed up pretty damn good. The person identified themselves as Lily, a woman’s name. No way in the world any one woman packed Gil around by herself. Gil was 260 if he was an ounce. So why the pussy shot? Misdirection? Some go fuck yourself passive aggressive stab? There was no list of demands. It was all so very confusing.

The barista returned with his water as one of the phones in his pocket made an electronic noise.

Frowning, he pulled out the work cell, nothing. Next he took out his personal phone, there was a text message on it.

“Hello Abel,” it read.

“Lily?”

“Yes. I must say, given the drab décor of your apartment, I think it’s pretty obvious you should consider a woman’s touch to give this place some feminine flair,” read the newest message.

“Are you in my apartment right now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you suggesting I could maybe use a woman like you in my life to help spruce my place up?” he replied. Motioning the young woman over, he showed her his ID and asked for a phone. She scooted off.

“Lol, you couldn’t handle a woman like me,” was the response.

“I think you would be surprised,” he provided.

“I don’t doubt you would be quite a handful,” she answered.

“Where’s Gil?” he asked, taking the cordless phone from the girl, he called 911.

“He is with me still, though I suppose for not very much longer.”

“Gilbert Caine is a good man, trying to make the world a better place. Please don’t hurt him,” he requested. Speaking to the 911 operator, he provided her his identification protocol and advised her there was an intruder in his home before supplying her with the address.

“Did you like my pictures?” she queried.

“Not the first one, Gil is my friend, my partner. Can you tell me what it is you want so we can have him back?” he inquired. Giving the girl back the bistro phone.

“I’m afraid you won’t want him back when I am finished with him.”

“Please Lily, it doesn’t have to be this way. You could just let him go,” Abel suggested.

“Tomorrow, he will be free of me,” she assured.

“Unharmed?” he asked.

No response.

“Lily?”

No response.

Taking his meal to go, he left the untouched water on his table and hurried back to his apartment, arriving just as the police cruiser pulled up. Two police officers stepped out of the vehicle, one man, one woman.

Abel walked toward them, “Here,” he said.

Looking in his direction, “You Stafford?” asked the female cop, a cute little blonde haired number with a pretty smile.

Abel nodded, pulling the leather wallet from his suit pocket and flashing his credentials.

“You called about an intruder?” questioned the male officer, circling around the front of the car.

Abel nodded, leading them to the glass security door into the building. Together the trio went upstairs to the fifth floor via elevator. At the door to his apartment, there were no indications or signs of any forced entry. Everything inside seemed undisturbed and the glass door to his balcony was locked. As with Gil’s house earlier in the day, there was no one there.

“Do you see anything missing?” inquired the lady police officer, holstering her pistol.

Putting his food on the counter, Abel shook his head, “Doesn’t look like it,” he answered.

The two police exchanged glances, the female stepping forward and handing Abel a card. “If you notice anything out of the ordinary, feel free to call me, Lisa, my number is there on the card,” she offered, smiling at him.

Abel smiled back and nodded, “Thanks,” he replied.

He waited until after the police left before putting the card on the counter. There was something amiss, though he chose not to share it with the police. There was an unfamiliar scent lingering in the air, a woman’s faint perfume, subtle, yet all throughout the apartment. He knew it hadn’t come from the lady cop.

He phoned Tom and advised him of the contact, forwarding the texts before grabbing a spoon from the drawer beside the sink taking his food out of the bag and opening the white Styrofoam container. Peeling the opaque plastic lid off the soup, he dropped it into the top half of the food container and leaned over the counter to eat his food.

This whole situation was so bizarre. He could only presume the perpetrator was contacting him because of his relationship to Gil. Was it like some type of Zodiac Killer thing? Taunting the authorities, daring them to catch him or her? How had Lily even known where he lived? Then again, she, if it truly was a she, had had possession of Gil for over a week and could easily have gotten or worse tortured the information out of him.

After eating, he rattled off a quick hundred fingertip pushups to burn off some of the pent up energy from earlier in the day before grabbing a quick shower. Clean, he threw on some pajama bottoms before getting settled on the couch and clicking on the TV.