Peter tried to knock again, but still, all he heard were Olivia's sobs.
"Olivia," Peter called out. "Olivia, please. Let me in."
He waited as he heard her gradual footsteps approach the door, and when they did, she opened the door and stared at Peter, her face a mess of tears and smeared mascara.
"Olivia," Peter said, walking into the room with her and closing the door behind him, "why would you lock the door like that?"
Olivia sat on the bed, which, based on the impression that was made on the comforter in the very place that she sat, is where Peter figured she had been sitting before and when he came to the door. He sat next to her.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed frantically, her voice broken up by the sobs. "I just wanted to be alone. I just wanted to think. Peter, I promised Rachel. I promised her that I would take care of her, that we would take care of her, and now, she's gone."
"No," Peter comforted her, holding her hands in his, "we don't know that she's gone."
"There were no ransom notes," Olivia pointed out. "There was nothing. He didn't leave anything behind. What do we have to go on?"
"We don't have any reason to think that Ella is dead," Peter said, holding Olivia's head up so that she would make eye contact with him. "We have to stay strong; Ella needs that. If we give up, we give up on her. We give up on Rachel, and I know that that isn't you. You are so strong."
Olivia nodded and briefly smiled before wiping her face with her hands. "I know," she whispered. "I know. I am just scared."
"I know you are," Peter said, holding Olivia in his arms. "I am, too, but we will find Ella, Livvy. I promise. In the meantime, let's try to get some sleep. We need to be at the top of our game, and first thing in the morning tomorrow, I will go into the office, and we will find this guy."
Again, Olivia nodded. "Where is Astrid?" she asked suddenly.
"She went home to Frank," Peter told her. "She's a little wrought up. She blames herself for what happened."
"She shouldn't," Olivia said, shaking her head.
"That's what I told her," Peter said with a very curt nod of his head. "She'll be okay."
"That's good to know," Olivia said, smiling, genuinely happy to know that Astrid had gone home; Frank would hopefully make her feel a lot better.
Peter sat up from the bed and turned the bedside lamp off. He undressed and then crawled into bed with Olivia. They slept soundlessly, but only until Peter awoke at six in the morning due to his feed ringing, which had been sitting next to the lamp on the bedside table. Peter reached for it and hit the center button on it.
The figure of a tall bald man with a goatee wearing a gray suit and a red tie appeared, and he had a very grave expression on his face.
"Broyles," Peter said before Broyles said anything.
"Peter," Broyles responded, no less gravelly, "I heard, and there has been another one since."
Peter sighed deeply, his head slowly sinking down to his hands. He shook his head and told Broyles that he was on his way, immediately hitting the center button of the feed and putting it in his pocket.
He kissed Olivia, and she stirred lightly.
"What is it, PB?" Olivia asked groggily. "Have they found Ella?"
"No," Peter responded dismally, "but I'm going in. I want you to call in to the office and tell them that you're not going in today. I want you to take it easy."
Olivia fell back asleep, having barely comprehended what he had said, and Peter kissed her again before dressing; he then grabbed his coat, his feed, and his gun and headed downstairs and out the door.
