Chapter Eight
It was a townhouse. A small, ordinary looking townhouse. Elliot swore he must have passed through a million of them in his search for a place to live after his divorce. He actually considered living in this area for a second since the rent was not as high as the rest of the city. It did not look the home of a rapist who was this creepy. He banged on the door. "Police, open up!" he yelled.
Olivia shook her head. "Elliot, he's not in there," she whispered. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. This was too much. They did not get there in time. For the first time since Casey had been abducted, Olivia really felt she was dead. There was no way they could get to her in time. She did not want to believe that her best friend was gone.
Elliot glanced over at Olivia. In that single glance, he knew exactly what was going through her head. "Olivia, no," he told her. "Don't go there."
"Why?" Olivia asked as she grabbed the keys to the police car from Elliot's hands. "We're too late. We screwed up. I might as well start getting used to the fact…to the fact…" She couldn't say it. She could believe it was real. She had the sinking feeling in her gut telling her that Casey was dead, but she could not say it.
Elliot turned the handle to the townhouse. It opened right immediately. He drew his gun and stepped inside. "Hello?" he called. He silently ventured further into the house as if he was late to Church and was trying to slip inside unnoticed.
It looked too normal. There was a small kitchen table, two counters, a sink, and a fridge in his kitchen. The linoleum tiles on the floor were normal. The carpet in the next room with the TV in it. It looked like his house. He could see himself trying to live here.
Then he saw the basement door. He turned to Olivia, and they exchanged a nod. If there was any evidence as to Casey's stay in this townhouse, then it would be in the basement. Elliot turned the handle, but it did not open. It was bolted shut. He tried pushing against it with all his weight, but that still did not get him anywhere. He turned back to Olivia.
"CASEY!" Olivia yelled through the door. "Casey, are you down there?" Thoughts raced through her mind. Adrenaline filled her body. Although she heard no response from downstairs, she had to make sure. If this guy was sick enough to do everything else to Casey, then she bet he would have no problems with skipping town and leaving her in the basement to die of dehydration. She rushed over towards the kitchen and grabbed one of the chairs. She started banging on the door with the chair.
Elliot quickly caught on, and he grabbed another chair. After a couple minutes of the two of them hitting against the door, it fell open. Traces of wood fell down the stairs. Olivia pushed past Elliot and dashed down towards the bottom. "Casey Novak!" she called. She turned on the light and looked into the room.
Nothing. Except for the her and Elliot, there were no people down there. However, this definitely was their crime scene. She could tell. The strong stench of beer lingered in the room. She could see several empty bottles lying on the floor. She shivered. It was like she was a little girl all over again. A cold, empty house with nothing but empty beer bottles.
She walked closer towards the couch. Chunks of blonde hair the exact shade as Casey's covered the bottom half of the couch. She could see blood on the floor near the couch next to the chains from the picture. She knew it was Casey's. "Call CSU," she whispered.
Route 55. His driving had dumped him out onto this road. He was not following a set path. He had no idea where he would be going next. He needed a new Kitten. This one was too feisty for him. At first, he had thought it was cute. Now it was just too damn annoying. He did not like this Kitten. She did not abide by the rules.
But where to get a new Kitten? This Kitten had friends, and sadly, this Kitten's friends were getting smarter. They were looking for their little pet. Announcements were persistently being made over the radio. An Amber alert for his car. He needed to get rid of it quickly. He gave a sigh of relief. He was getting close to Poughkeepsie. It had been forty-five minutes since he had heard a message about him. He was finally far enough to avoid being turned in. Of course, it would probably be on almost every New York late night news report, but he would have plenty of time to ditch this car by then.
He chuckled again. He was getting ahead of himself. Before he could do anything, he would have to release Kitten into the wild. She belonged there. He pulled over to the side of the road. Trees surrounded him. This was a perfect place. There was plenty of snow on the ground. In his excitement over Kitten, he had forgotten about that snow storm. A lot of snow covered the Mid-Atlantic.
He chuckled as he exited his car. There was no one else on the road. He was in the middle of no where in the snow. No one would want to adopt a Kitten when they could be home in front of their nice warm fireplaces. He gave a sinister laugh as he opened the backseat door. His Kitten was still asleep. He picked her up gently, placed a kiss on her forehead, then set her down in the snow. She did not move at all. He laughed again as he rushed back to his car. He got inside and sped off. Perfect.
