Lilly doesn't bother moving the mattress back to the bed. It's dark and she doesn't like the idea of wandering around, bumping into ghosts. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.
For the first time she allows herself to truly think about Scotty. It's unavoidable, really. He's always been there, hovering at the edge of her mind and in the centre of her chest. She hugs the blankets around her and thinks about their last hours together.
There is always a risk. He knows it as well as she does. When you go to work every day and you mingle with murderers and cruelties there's a chance you won't make it home at the end of the day. She's come close a few times.
But for some reason Scotty always seems safe. She's never stopped to think that maybe one day she'll have to get up and live a day without him there beside her. Maybe it's with everything that's happened to her lately. It's so easy to get lost in fear and hopelessness when you're so tired and damaged because of all that's piled up against you. She's never stopped to think about the knocks Scotty has taken.
Losing Elisa was probably the worst. Lilly can remember not knowing what to say to him. She can remember looking at him and knowing he shouldn't have been at work because he wasn't ready to go back yet.
She gives a wry smile into the dark as she realises how turned around things can get.
It doesn't matter now, anyway. If she does get out of here she'll have to get used to a world without Scotty Valens. She used to live in a world like that. Before he came along.
She can't remember what it was like.
I hope they find you, she thinks, her mind tired and dull. She wonders who told Scotty's parents he's missing. He has people out there missing him and worrying about him. She has nobody.
The people who never gain back the bodies of their loved ones are always more destroyed than those who are able to bury their grief. A body means closure. To have someone just disappear... You're bound to spend the rest of your life hoping, aren't you?
Lilly listens to her breath, soft and warm against the mattress. She wonders if she's stupid, clinging to the small flare of hope inside her. John Smith certainly thinks so.
Logic tells her he's right. She's not sure how deep the well is, but there's no way Scotty could have hit the bottom unharmed. Even in the best case scenario, he's probably badly hurt.
I'm sorry, she thinks tiredly. I should have listened to you. We should have waited for back-up. I should have paid more attention. I should have kept John Smith under tighter control. It's all my fault and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Scotty.
The ginger cat is purring at the end of Lil's bed.
Scotty is still on the floor, leaning back against the mattress. He knows he should get up and go back to the precinct and see if there's anything new. Somehow he doubts it. He's sure he'd have received a call if anything had changed.
He looks tiredly around her bedroom. He wonders if John Smith came in here and poked around and his skin crawls at the thought of it. He's certain the car was parked outside because John Smith dumped Lilly somewhere and then came here to snoop around and learn things about her.
Scotty can't see anything missing, but maybe John Smith doesn't need to take anything. Maybe he just needs to run his eyes over Lilly's possessions to know what her life is like.
Scotty looks around, trying to see things through John Smith's eyes, but he's too tired. All he can see is Lil. Dear Lil. Strange and private and quiet and fiercely stubborn and determined.
He breathes deeply, stirring up the sweet scent of lavender again. He wonders where it comes from. She doesn't wear perfume. Not that he's noticed, anyway. Maybe the lavender is in her fabric softener or maybe it's some sort of cleaning product.
Get up, Valens. Get up and find her. You ain't helpin' nobody sittin' here.
He struggles tiredly to his feet and glances down at Lilly's empty bed again. The ginger cat stretches and looks up at him.
"I'll get her back," he says aloud. "You miss her too, huh?"
The cat closes her eye and goes to sleep again and Scotty feels a strange sort of emptiness for her, knowing she usually sleeps at Lil's feet. He's upset, suddenly, that wherever Lil is, she spent last night sleeping alone, with no one to keep her company.
When John Smith hauls the manhole cover back again it's raining. Lil feels the wet drops fall cold and wet on her face. She blinks up at him, still on the mattress in the middle of the floor.
Be polite to him, this time.
"Hello," she says softly.
He smiles. "Hello."
She rubs a hand over her face, feeling tired and weak. "What time is it?"
He ignores her. "I think you owe me an apology," he says.
She clenches her fingers tightly into the blankets around her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment.
He gazes down at her. "I have life and power, detective," he says. "I am important."
"I know." She avoids his eyes.
"If you speak to me like that again I'll hurt you." He says it softly and pleasantly and Lilly's skin crawls.
She looks up at him. "You've hurt me already," she says softly.
"Not physically." He smiles down at her. "Are you hungry?"
She swallows carefully and shakes her head. "No, thank you."
He frowns. "You should eat."
"Why?" she asks. "What's the point? I'm going to die down here."
He chuckles and shakes his head. "Don't give me that, detective. You haven't gone that far, yet. You think you can fool me?"
"No," she answers truthfully. "I don't think I can fool you. But I'm not going to play your games, John. I'm not going to keep myself alive down here only to eventually die the way you want me to die."
"Ah," he says. "Rebellion."
"If you say so," she answers, sitting up and letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. "What time is it, please?"
He tilts his head. "Why are you so fixated on time?"
"I'm not," she says. "It's just that my watch is broken and I'd like to know how long I've been down here."
"Is it so you know how long there is until they stop searching for you?"
She cranes her head up at him. "What do you mean?"
"The search will eventually be called off," he says. "Resources, detective. They cost money and the department will soon file you away in a box and forget about you."
She feels icy fear grip the back of her neck and she resists the urge to shiver and hug herself.
"How long do searches usually last?" he asks her.
She's sure he already knows the answer.
"They'll move on," he says simply, not bothered when she ignores him. "It's inevitable."
Lilly tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Have they found Brenda?"
He chuckles. "I haven't been back to check. It's possible, I suppose. I'm sure I left a trail somewhere."
"How did you come across this place?" Lilly asks. "Is there a trail here?"
"I doubt they'll trace anything to this place," he answers. "The only way they'll find you is if I tell them where you are."
She fidgets and shifts slightly on the mattress. "Will you tell them where Scotty is?" she asks after a moment, her eyes clear and wide as she looks up at them. "The detective. Detective Valens. Will you tell them where he is?"
"Why would I do that?" he asks, sounding amused.
"Because his family will be worried about him," she says desperately. "Because there's no point in him just lying there, dead. It won't be a loss to you if you tell them where he is."
He rests his chin in his hand again, looking thoughtful. "Tell me what your nightmares are about," he says.
She moistens her lips with her tongue, breathing carefully. "If I tell you, will you point the police towards Scotty?"
He stares back at her and she hangs her head in defeat.
"I was shot," she says after a moment. "A few months ago." She shrugs and shakes her head. "I thought I was going to die."
"And that's what frightens you?" he asks. "Death?"
She nods and looks up at him.
He sneers at her. "A homicide detective afraid of death? Try again. And this time, don't lie."
She grits her teeth, resisting the urge to scream up at him. "It's different, facing it yourself."
"I'll put the cover back on," he says softly. "I'll put the cover back on and leave you alone in the dark, detective, if you don't start telling me the truth."
She can feel her muscles trembling with fear and adrenaline. She can feel anger building up inside her again and she fights it desperately, knowing that if she snaps at him or loses her temper, he'll slide the cover back in place and leave her in the dark.
"My nightmares aren't... linear," she says.
He chuckles and looks down at her with an expression of eagerness and child-like delight. He is taking obvious pleasure in her fear and she forces it back, staring up at him with quiet determination.
"Tell me," he says impatiently.
"It's dark," she says. "Sometimes there are flashing lights. In a hospital. And gunshots and breaking glass."
"Why breaking glass?"
"Detective Valens shot through the mirror in the interrogation room to save me," she says, lifting her chin slightly. She's proud when her voice remains clear and steady.
"Ah, he saved you," John Smith drawls. "He's your hero, is he?"
Lilly glares at him. "It isn't like that. Not in our job. It wasn't a regular day, but it wasn't something he hesitated with, either."
John Smith just smiles down at her.
She looks back at him furiously.
"Is Detective Valens in your nightmares?" John Smith asks.
"No."
No one is. I'm alone.
"Do you die, in your nightmares?"
"No. I wake up."
"What wakes you?"
"Different things. Sometimes it's the lights. Sometimes it's the gunshot or the glass." She looks away then, not wanting to tell him that usually it's the voices of the paramedics questioning her.
"You have trouble sleeping," he says.
She nods, looking down at her hands.
"You fill your bedroom with the scent of lavender in an effort to calm yourself so you can sleep."
Her head snaps back and she looks up at him with wide eyes.
He smiles back at her.
Lilly's heart hammers in her chest. "You've been in my house," she says angrily.
"The keys were in your pocket," he says simply. "Yes."
She splutters furiously, staggering to her feet and glaring up at him, too angry to form proper coherent words.
John Smith chuckles and tilts his head to the side. "Look at you," he says fondly, "all indignant because I know what your bedroom smells like." He smiles at her. "Your cats," he says, "have been victims of accidents or mistreatment. Yes?"
Lilly's mouth is dry. She's terrified he's done something to them – especially after what he said earlier, regarding animals not having the same fears or choices as humans.
John Smith continues quietly, the rain misting down and dampening his hair. "You feel the need to nurture them and look after them? Who looks after you, detective? You live alone. The mail is all addressed to you and you alone. There is very little food in your kitchen."
"Stop it," she snaps.
He ignores her. "There are no photographs," he says. "No photographs of friends or family on your walls or your mantelpiece. Tell me, detective – if I hadn't stolen you away from a whole crowd of police, would anyone even know you were gone?"
She gazes up at him and he smiles at her and disappears, leaving nothing but the rain filtering down through the hole above her.
Scotty sits in the car, watching the wipers slide back and forth through the misty rain on the windshield. Outside, police tape blows in the wind, bouncing gently on the branches it's tied to.
He feels slightly guilty. Stillman thinks he's at home getting some rest, but there's no way Scotty can be still and sleeping with Lil missing.
He gets out of the car and slams the door, ducking under the police tape and walking towards the well. It's all still roped off, but the cops and crime scene crews are all gone.
He stands away from the well in the ground, not daring to get too close. He turns slowly on the spot, trying to replace the scene in front of him with the one that took place earlier.
Lil standing behind John Smith, pale and eager and hopeful, so sure that Brenda is down the well. John Smith standing slightly hunched and timid in the shackles, his eyes locked dreamily on the well, a vague smile on his face...
Scotty grits his teeth and glances around, the rain starting to chill him. The woods are quiet. Rain drips from the leaves. He starts to think, with a heavy heart, that John Smith just took Lil out into the middle of the woods and shot her with her own gun.
She won't play his game. So he'll end it.
Scotty shivers and gets back into the car, but can't bring himself to drive away. This was the last place he saw her.
All the things they've been through and he's never considered her not coming back. He spent a long night pacing a hospital corridor, sick with worry and with Lil's blood on his hands, and still couldn't believe she wouldn't be all right.
This time is different. This time the terror has stuck to his skin and he can't scrub it off. This time he's convinced it's the end.
He leans his forehead against the steering wheel and lets a loud sob escape.
The homicide office is quiet. Scotty figures everyone has finally given into exhaustion and has gone home to rest before coming back in the evening to trace Lil. At least, he hopes that's what will happen.
Stillman is in his office. Scotty leans against the door. "Any news?" he asks softly.
Stillman shakes his head and runs a careful eye over Scotty. "Did you go home?"
Scotty rubs the back of his head and decides to tell the truth. "Can't. I've gotta find her, boss."
"You're no good to Lil without some sleep," Stillman says. He motions to the seat opposite him and Scotty sinks into it. Exhaustion is like a stain on his skin – he can smell it and feel it covering him like sweat.
He rubs his eyes, but he can't think about sleep now. He can't.
"I gotta do something," he says fiercely. "I can't stand it, boss."
"I know, Scotty," Stillman murmurs, leaning back in his chair tiredly. He looks exhausted. Scotty doubts he got any rest when he went home. "I should've kept a closer eye on things."
Scotty just shakes his head. "Ain't your fault," he murmurs. "She had us all fooled pretty good."
"No she didn't," Stillman answers quietly. "We chose to be fooled. That's an entirely different thing." He shakes his head and glances down at the papers scattered across his desk.
Scotty scrapes his palm over his jaw, listening to the stubble slide against his skin. He needs a shave, and a shower – and more than anything, he needs sleep.
But he can't. He can't.
It's dark when John Smith returns. It's still raining. Lilly can hear it pattering softly above her, and it falls down through the open manhole onto the floor of the bunker.
She tries to focus on it, knowing that rain should be soothing. In bed, at home, with her cats curled up against her, the rain against her window calms her. But not here.
John Smith shines a flashlight down through the manhole. "Hello, detective."
"Hello," Lilly answers wearily, leaving the bed and standing beneath him with a blanket around her shoulders.
"I've brought you a flashlight."
"Thank you," she answers.
"I'll give it to you in exchange for some information."
She grits her teeth. "I already told you about my nightmares," she says.
"I have decided to let your superiors know where the well is," he says. "I need to know who I should contact."
Her heart leaps. "Lieutenant Stillman," she says. She squints against the light John Smith shines down onto her face. "You're not lying to me, are you?" she asks after a moment.
"I never lie," he answers. "I'll tell Lieutenant Stillman there's a body at the bottom of the well."
Lilly shifts her weight from foot to foot. "Why did you change your mind, John?" she asks after a moment. She can feel a small flare of hope growing inside her. If he can change his mind about one thing, he can change his mind about other things. Don't give up, Rush. You'll get out of this. You'll crack him. You'll trip him up. Don't. Give. Up.
She can hear the delighted smile in John Smith's voice as it filters down to her through the darkness. "It's worth it," he says, "to see that pretty little glitter in your eyes."
Scotty's headache is back, moving in steady, sluggish pulses down his back and into his shoulders. He's taken to pacing around the office, moving in a wide loop, stopping occasionally to rake his eyes over the photographs and maps taped to Stillman's glass walls, or to pour himself another cup of coffee.
Vera has ordered pizza, but nobody has much of an appetite. The slices stay in the box, greasy and cold, cheese congealing and hardening slowly.
They all know the signs. The case is going cold. It's early, but there's no trail. Lil has disappeared.
Scotty feels sick. He stands in front of the map on Stillman's office walls and glares at it, silently demanding that it give up Lilly's location.
Fuck, he thinks furiously. FUCK. Don't. Don't, don't, don't go cold. Please. Please don't. There's gotta be somethin'. I missed somethin'. She can't be gone. Not like this. Please, not like this.
He can feel Stillman watching him, and Kat and Vera have exchanged several pointed looks whenever Scotty passes by, pacing with a half-empty mug of coffee clenched in his sweaty palm.
Jeffries glances at him now and then, but carries on as usual, and Scotty is grateful. The way the others are looking at him is weighing heavily on him and he can feel the need to keep moving and stay bright and alert so they stop telling him to go home and get some rest.
It's late on Sunday night. It's almost 48 hours since John Smith broke away from Scotty and Lil. It feels like it happened years ago.
When Scotty hears Stillman's phone ring, he loiters in the doorway, too exhausted and desperate to feel bad about eavesdropping.
When Stillman looks up with wide eyes, Scotty gives a shout back into the main office. Miller immediately snatches up her phone to organise a trace to be made on the call on Stillman's line. Scotty can hear her muttering as she scribbles notes and gestures excitedly. He leaves her to it and rushes to Stillman's desk, forcing himself to stay calm.
Stillman hits speaker and continues the conversation calmly. "This is Lieutenant Stillman," he confirms. "Where are you, John?"
John Smith pauses. He knows he's on speaker phone, but he continues anyway. Scotty's thudding heart almost drowns his voice out.
"I'm not calling to discuss my whereabouts," John Smith answers softly. "But I feel the need to confess."
"Confess to what?" Stillman asks sharply.
"I've murdered one of your detectives," John Smith answers pleasantly.
Scotty sinks to his knees, the blood draining away from his face. He did it. He killed her. She's gone.
His breath won't come to him. His hands lock tightly onto the edge of Stillman's desk and he stares at the phone in disbelief, listening to the soft breath filtering through the speaker. He can't comprehend what's just happened. He can't figure out what his emotions are doing. All he knows is his legs won't hold him up anymore and all the coffee in his stomach is threatening to leap from his mouth, hot and bitter.
I'm gonna be sick.
"He's in the bottom of a well in the woods," John Smith continues. "I pushed him in on top of another heap of bones."
Scotty lets out a soft gasp of relief and rests his cheek down against the surface of Stillman's desk. His face is wet with sweat and tears. He clenches his fists and closes his eyes.
He thinks I'm dead. He's confessing to my murder. Lil is alive.
Stillman sinks slowly into his chair. Scotty can hear the slightest tremor in his voice.
"Where is the well, John?"
John Smith chuckles. "Oh, come now," he says softly. "You already know. I know you've found him. I know he's alive. But it's so nice to know you're willing to play games with me, lieutenant."
Scotty can't take it. He leaps to his feet and leans over the desk, snarling into the phone. "Where is she, you son of a bitch?"
John Smith chuckles. "She is safe," he answers. "But she believes you are dead, detective. I'm afraid that took a lot of fight out of her. But I got it back. I told her I'd tell the lieutenant where the well is, and that seems to have put some spark and fight back into her again."
"We think Detective Rush might need medical attention," Stillman interrupts, reaching over and putting a hand on Scotty's shoulder, silently urging him to keep quiet. "There was blood in the car."
"What was the name of the woman down the well?" John Smith asks, ignoring Stillman. "I never knew."
"You can't have done it," Scotty snaps. "You were just a kid when she disappeared."
John Smith chuckles. "I was there. I watched the hope and life die from her eyes. I'm going to watch it fade out of the eyes of your detective as well. Now that I've put it back..."
"Anna Whiteoak," Stillman answers. "How'd you come across her, John?"
"That doesn't matter," he answers airily.
"Why are you calling?" Scotty asks, his voice rough and hard. "You got no reason to call. You knew I was alive. Why'd you call in to confess when you knew there was no murder?"
"I promised her," John Smith answers quietly. "She thinks you're dead." He chuckles. "She's very upset."
"Fuck you!" Scotty snarls. He can feel Vera tugging at the back of his jacket. "I'll kill you, you hear me? I'm gonna –"
Vera yanks him backwards.
John Smith tuts softly. "I almost wish I'd kept you," he says. "You have more fire than she does, at the moment. I'm a little disappointed in how hopeless and helpless she looks when she stares up at me..."
Scotty feels his heart take a hard, loud leap. When she stares up at him. She's down somewhere. Locked down. Away.
He tells himself to calm down. Don't read too much into it or you can go trippin' down the wrong path, Valens. And that won't help her.
But at the same time he's suddenly feverish with hope. One small slip is all they ever really needed.
"I had to take her a flashlight," John Smith says, giving a soft laugh into the phone. "I had to give her a flashlight because she's so afraid of the dark." His laugh grows louder and Scotty furiously wrenches himself free of Vera's grasp, clenching his fists tightly. His knuckles crack loudly in the tense silence of Stillman's office.
"Tell us where she is, John," Stillman says. "Tell us where you're holding Detective Rush."
"I hope she sleeps better tonight," he says. "I don't have any lavender."
Scotty jerks and stares down at the phone in amazement, just as Miller runs into the office and thrusts a sheet of paper under Stillman's nose. Scotty can read her wide, blocky print upside down.
He's at Lil's house. 5-0 on the way.
Scotty doesn't wait. He knows John Smith is going to hang up at any moment and disappear into the night like a ghost. Maybe the uniformed cops will be there in a few seconds and they'll get him, but Scotty wants to be there anyway.
Even without the trace coming through, that last comment would have given it away. That comment about the lavender, and the taunting sound in John Smith's voice. He wants them to know where he is. He's growing cocky and careless. He knows he's facing the needle for the murders of the other women and he's throwing caution to the wind. The consequences if he's caught can't get any worse, so why not go out with a bang and really act like an asshole?
Scotty wonders why he doesn't just disappear and slide into a crowd somewhere, blending in and hiding away. He could do it. He could disappear quite easily.
But he hasn't. Instead, he called Stillman to taunt them all. To be smug and cocky. He's veering further and further away from his regular pattern and that terrifies Scotty.
But he has no time to think about it. In a few minutes John Smith will be gone again, escaping the police by the barest margin. Scotty can't let that happen.
He clenches his car keys in his hand. I'm comin' to get you, you smug son of a bitch. Sittin' on the end of Lil's bed talkin' about lavender. You ain't gettin' away from me this time.
