A/N: Belated Happy New Year! Sorry, this one shouldn't have taken so long. Lots of stuff about to happen here. Between the last chapter and the remaining chapters, you'll see why I really wanted to write this story. E/O's picking up and will continue to the end. ;)
x x x
"Elliot!" Mara rushes toward the detective in hysterics. "Oh my God, he's got Olivia! You have to stop him!"
"It's okay, we'll find her," he tells her.
The bouncer makes his way over to Elliot from the door sounding winded... "He's gone. Driving a pick-up truck. Sorry, I couldn't see the tag."
"Thanks, man," Elliot replies. He quickly removes the compact bomb attached to Mara's side, takes it apart and examines it.
It's wrapped in brown paper and tape. Inside, there are a couple of wires, small gray pellets, a small box and a computer chip. The pellets are probably made of a combustible material like ammonium nitrate and the small box contains the detonator. The computer chip would have allowed James to remotely set it off.
He immediately disconnects the wire to the chip, disabling any communication to the device. He has no idea what the range on the remote is, or why James didn't try to activate it once he and Olivia were safely out of the bar.
For whatever reason, they're safe from James.
But he won't feel better until he knows where Olivia is.
Mara eyes the package nervously before offering Elliot a gracious smile. "Thank you. You saved my life… You and Olivia both."
"I'm glad you're okay." He returns the smile. His eyes pan the layout of the bar, thinking over his next steps before he meets Mara's eyes again. "I'm going to need you to stay here until I can get ahold of the agents and we get things squared away. If I need to leave, I'll make sure someone is with you."
"Okay," she agrees. There's sadness in her eyes. She's been through an ordeal and he hates to have to hand her over to someone else. But it may come to that.
Where the hell are those agents? Elliot groans to himself, after another sweeping glance around the place.
The tornado siren continues its cycling drone. Meanwhile, the volume of conversations and commotion in the place is picking up.
Some of the customers are confused, edgy. It's understandable. Others are three sheets to the wind and could care less about what's going on outside.
Nothing like having to subdue a crowd of anxious drunks so they don't endanger themselves, Elliot thinks to himself.He's done it many times before, of course.
There's no basement, but no windows to worry about either. All he knows to do is move everyone toward the interior section of the building.
Fortunately, he's got help. The bouncer is a big, burly guy named Pete. Elliot and Pete usher the people back from the door, asking them to stay put until the siren shuts off.
When things seem to be under control, Elliot wanders toward the door, asking Pete to alert him if anyone gets out of hand.
Nothing is happening outside at the moment. The air is humid and winds are gusty. The siren continues to wail from about a quarter mile away.
It's after midnight. Aside from some traces of moonlight peeping through the breaks in the clouds, it's hard to see anything. The entire street must be out of power. He wonders if they'll be able to see a tornado before it's upon them.
It's been about ten or fifteen minutes since Olivia sent the agents a message.
He releases a yawn, realizing the night's about to get longer.
There's nothing he can do at the moment and it's driving him crazy. He fidgets, shifts his weight, folds his arms. Finally, he settles against the door frame, propping the glass door open with his shoulder while he gazes out.
The siren is making his anxiety worse. For the moment, he prefers it to the volume of the inside crowd.
He's thinking about Olivia.
Realizing the phone is still in his right hand, he turns the display toward him. He wonders if James would do anything to her if he sends a text message. He debates it for a minute, then decides to wait. At least until he knows her location and they have back-up.
He thumbs through screen after screen, reaching the picture of the two of them on the dance floor.
He can't help staring.
Her eyes are radiant. Her smile makes his heart race. She's relaxed and happy. He remembers the two of them laughing and in good spirits as they danced.
In the picture, they're leaning in close. He's got one of her hands in his, the other hand is wrapped around her waist. Her other hand is on his shoulder. He remembers the moment perfectly.
You wouldn't guess that the two people in this picture have had constant struggles in their relationship for the past several months.
They used to be so close. Just like this.
He releases a heavy sigh.
He'll find her. She'll be okay.
Finally, he closes the image and sets the phone back in his pocket.
With the crowd under control for the time being, he rests his eyes and remains there.
x
About twenty-five minutes pass before the siren finally cuts off. No tornado, thank God. But it feels like it could start raining at any time.
He calls the agents once more and there's still no answer.
With the tornado siren off and no looming threat, the customers start filing out of the bar and staff begin the process of closing up.
While he talks to Pete about tracking down someone from the local precinct, a uniformed county officer arrives to see if any assistance is needed.
About time for his luck to change, Elliot thinks to himself.
"Hi Pete. How's everything going in there?" The officer's eyes go to the bouncer first, whom he obviously knows.
"Hey, Nick," he greets the officer. "All's fine here. Are they working on the power?"
The officer nods. "Might be a while."
Elliot steps forward, removes his badge from his pocket and shows it to the officer. "Hi… Detective Elliot Stabler, NYPD."
"Officer Nick Pellz with the county. Nice to meet you, Detective." The two of them shake hands. "What brings you out here from New York?"
"I'm here working a case with the feds. There's been a problem and I could really use some back-up."
"What's going on?"
He takes the officer aside and explains the situation with Mara, Olivia and James.
"I can arrange for our local bureau to keep the girl in a protective shelter for the night, but I'll need some paperwork from the FBI field office," Pellz offers.
"That's part of the problem. I haven't been able to track the agents down. My partner sent a text when our perp showed up, but it's been about forty-five minutes. They're staying a couple miles away. Thought they would have been here by now."
"The storm is causing some delays. There's downed power lines, flooded roads and some stranded vehicles. Power outages extend over the state line. A tornado touched down about a mile and a half from here. It's a mess. I'm usually in this area earlier because my house is in Youngstown, but it took a little longer tonight."
"I've got find my partner. I don't have a vehicle either. Perp shot out two tires on the Crown Vic," Elliot groans. "Supposed to have it serviced tomorrow so we can get back out there and catch this guy."
"Yeah, you've had a bad night…," he offers with a sympathetic smile. "I'll get in touch with my CO and see if I can be of any assistance. Our guys are spread a little thin. Give me a few minutes," Officer Pellz replied.
"Sure. I appreciate it."
Pellz heads inside to make his call.
Unable to stay still, Elliot wanders down the sidewalk. Cars are parallel parked beside the curb, or about a block away at a parking lot that's free after 5:00pm. The headlights provide a little more lighting to that area.
A few of the customers are still gathered near the entrance of the bar. Some may be waiting for cabs or rides, others are saying their goodbyes and leaving.
At the end of that block, he sees a man standing near the front of his pickup truck with the hood up. He wanders closer to see if the guy needs any help. "Everything alright?"
The man glances up at Elliot before returning his attention to the truck. "Just had about three hundred dollars worth of work done and the damned thing won't start," he answers hoarsely. Sounds like he has bad allergies.
It's a red Ford pickup truck. Probably a late 90s model. Elliot steps up and peers inside. "What sort of work did you have done?"
"A couple of hoses replaced, engine valve cover repaired and the battery serviced. I'm not much of a mechanic so I had a buddy of mine work on it. His prices are more reasonable."
"Does it turn over?"
"It tries." He covers his mouth and begins a coughing spell. "Sorry, man… My girlfriend just decided to get a kitten and the little fur ball must have plopped down in my pile of laundry and shed a pound of fur. Apparently, cats and me aren't a good combination."
"Do you two live together?"
"No, she lives here, I'm in Cleveland. I'm headed home tonight."
Elliot eyes the battery. "Got a paper towel?"
"I should…" He opens the door and reaches behind the seat to retrieve a roll of paper towels. He tears off a couple sheets, tosses the roll back inside, and hands the towels to Elliot.
"I think he forgot to clean up the connectors." Elliot works at it for a minute, then steps back from the hood. "There. Give it a try."
He gets back inside. It starts up immediately. "Hey, thanks, man!" He gets out of the truck, but leaves the engine running.
"No problem."
Elliot hesitates before stepping away. He notices some nervous energy from the guy and steps closer to observe him.
His eyes look a little glassy. Cheeks are a little red and blotchy. Some dark smudges of something on his cheek and above his eye. Maybe he touched something under the hood, then wiped his face.
"You…uh…taking anything for those allergies?"
"Sure. Just some over-the-counter stuff."
"How long ago did you take it?"
"I haven't taken a thing tonight."
Elliot nods toward the front door of the bar. "Not even a drink to settle the cough?"
As if on cue, he coughs again. "Yeah, sure… I stopped in for a drink before heading home. I didn't finish it."
He's lying, Elliot realizes. But he doesn't detect any alcohol on him.
"You in a hurry to get somewhere?"
"Not particularly… Is there a problem?"
He's hiding something, Elliot notes. But he has no reason to hold him up and nothing to take to Officer Pellz.
"Just be careful getting home," he adds, before turning toward the bar entrance.
He re-enters the bar and his eyes pan around the room. There's no sign of Pellz. The staff are busy putting chairs up on tables, cleaning floors or wiping down the bar. The emergency lights are still on, but they're not helping much.
Mara sits on a barstool. Her eyes drift over to Elliot when he enters. "Officer Pellz told me to wait. He's in the men's room," she explains.
He gives her a nod back. Suddenly, his phone signals a new message. It's about time, he mumbles to himself while he digs it out of his pocket and checks the display.
It's not the agents, but this one definitely lifts his spirits.
New message from Liv.
His heartbeat picks up as he opens it.
R187-106. 10-13.
He looks it over a couple times. What the hell?
The last part, 10-13 is officer in need of assistance. The first part doesn't make sense. He's stumped, but he's relieved to hear from her.
R187-106…? What the hell could that be?
An idea hits him a couple seconds later. Her location…?
This isn't like her. Olivia gives better information than this. Maybe she's trying to send a text without James finding out. He sends a text back. U ok? What's ur 20?
He lifts his head just as Officer Pellz returns from the restroom.
Mara hops off the barstool and heads there next.
x
She enters the lady's bathroom. There's only one emergency light on in there, and it's over the sinks. She doesn't care. She didn't come in there just to pee.
There's no one else in there at the moment. She takes out her phone and calls her friend.
"Hey, it's me…" Mara begins when the girl answers. "You won't be able to pick me up tonight."
"Why? What's going on?"
She sniffles and goes into one of the stalls for some toilet paper to wipe her nose. "It's a long story."
"You okay, Mar? Can you talk?"
She sighs. "I'm fine. I think I've got a couple minutes. But tonight couldn't get any worse…"
x
"I've got you covered," Officer Pellz tells Elliot. "I'm bringing Mara into the office with me until we track down one of those agents."
"I appreciate it."
"Have you heard anything from them yet?" he asks.
"No, but I just got a message from my partner."
"She okay?"
"I don't know. The message doesn't make much sense. He's taken her somewhere and this might be a location. Do you know R-187?" Elliot inquires, turning his phone so he can read it.
"There's a highway 187 that joins 16th Avenue and heads out of town. R-187 is a rural route. Maybe that's what she meant? I don't know anything about this 106, unless it's an exit or a mile-marker…? I know where exit 92 is. If that's the case, it could be 10 or 15 miles from here, I think…?"
"I don't have a vehicle until the feds show up."
"I've got a call into the station and I'm looking into some back up for you. I can send highway patrol there to check things out, but I'm not sure how soon that'll happen with the storm causing some detours."
"Need a ride?" The hoarse voice prompts from behind them.
Elliot and Officer Pellz turn around to face the man Elliot assisted minutes ago with his truck.
"I thought you would have left by now?"
"Just making a pit stop before I go," he explains, pointing toward the restrooms. "But..um… Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing about your partner. I was here earlier when she was taken hostage. I'll give you a ride out there to get her, I know where 187 is."
"I appreciate it," Elliot replies. "But it sounds like you should go home and rest."
Officer Pellz gets a phone call and steps aside to answer it.
"I'm okay for now," the man replies.
"I really can't have anyone tagging along," Elliot explains.
"I'm a security officer in a prison. And it's just a ride, right? I'd like to return the favor since you helped me out. I'd be stuck here for another night if you hadn't shown up, and I don't think my allergies could take it. The name's Manny by the way…" Manny steps closer and extends his hand to Elliot.
He steps forward to make introductions. "Detective Elliot Stabler, NYPD," he replies, accepting his hand.
He'd rather just send him on his way and have someone more qualified along. Then again, he's anxious to get to Olivia and he's not sure how much longer he can stand to wait around for those agents or back-up officers.
Given what Pellz said, he may not have a choice.
"You got a security badge?" Elliot asks.
Manny takes out his wallet, removes a laminated badge and holds it up for Elliot to see. The name says Emanuel Lister. The badge has a seal for the state of Ohio. He works for Cleveland County Corrections.
If the agents are stuck somewhere, maybe Pellz will have rounded up a couple guys by the time they reach her. Then he can send Manny and his cat allergies back to Cleveland.
"Do you have a weapon?" Elliot asks. He doesn't intend for Manny to use it, he just wants to know if he's got one.
Manny puts his badge away. "Nope. No permit outside the facility."
Pellz finishes his call. "Excuse us," he tells Manny, taking Elliot aside to speak to him privately. He lowers his voice. "State trooper just found a couple of agents. Do the names Spanner and Hart sound familiar to you?"
Elliot nodded. "That's them."
"Both dead from gunshot wounds. They were at a traffic light a couple blocks from here."
He frowns. "Sounds like our perp."
"My CO is trying to get ahold of the Pittsburgh FBI field office for you. I'll keep you posted."
"Thanks." He turns back and gestures toward Manny. "This guy's named Manny, he's a security officer. He's going to give me a ride to R-187 so I can check things out. I don't know what else to do. Go ahead and send someone that way when they're available. I'll meet up with them. It'll give me a head start, then I'll send Manny on his way. He's headed back to Cleveland."
"Sure, no problem."
x x x
"Thanks again, Manny," Elliot says, shortly after the two leave the bar and head outside of the Youngstown city limits.
"Yep."
The two-lane highway becomes hilly, weaving through a forested area.
It's after 1:00am. No lights along that stretch of road and not much traffic.
His eyes comb the sides of the road while the rain showers turn from periodic to steady. With the storms that came through earlier that day, the shoulders are nearly washed out with mud and rainwater in some places.
There are sharp turns and poor visibility. But he's trying to resist the urge to ask Manny to speed up.
Liv still hasn't responded to his last text. He doesn't like this.
He clenches and unclenches his fists, finally reaching for the arm rest beside him for something to grip. Except there's something sticky on it and the vinyl's peeling off badly.
He checks his phone for about the fourteenth time since they left. Nothing.
"So how long have you been working in security, Manny?" he asks, needing something to distract him.
"About two years. Not exactly my dream job," he answers.
Manny's hoarse voice is probably just as painful for him as it is to listen to, but he's trying not to focus on it.
He could still be waiting at the bar, if it wasn't for Manny. He's grateful for the ride and it doesn't hurt to have someone else along. Especially, if Liv is injured and they need to get her to a hospital quickly.
"What made you choose a security job?"
"I don't know, what made you decide to become a detective?" he counters.
"I wanted to be. I guess it's in my blood. My dad was a cop."
Manny just nods.
A few minutes pass and aside from the windshield wipers, it's quiet in there. Elliot glances down at the dashboard. There's just enough light from the dash to see a hole where a stereo might be. "You lose your stereo?"
"Stolen right out of my truck when I was in Pittsburgh. Girlfriend's parents live there."
"That sucks."
He shrugs. "I just use my phone." He takes his phone out of his pocket and sets it on the dash, then he reaches into the narrow backseat of the cab and retrieves a portable speaker. He sets it between him and Elliot.
"You'll probably want weather reports for your trip back to Cleveland," he offers. It's more of an attempt at conversation that goes nowhere. He hopes they're almost there.
Nervously, he glances at the next mile marker when the headlights illuminate it… It's says 76.
Olivia's text said 106. If Pellz's theory is right, they're still a ways off.
"I thought Officer Pellz said it was about 10 miles away…? Does that sound right to you?" Elliot inquires, trying to sound more curious than accusatory.
"We're getting close."
"But the last mile marker said 76…? How's that close?"
"Don't worry, man. Relax."
Elliot rolls his eyes and settles back in his seat. He knows he's placing a heavy bet on Olivia being out here.
Is Olivia staying put or is she still on the move and trying to escape James? He has no idea.
He glances at his phone… No signal.
They're weaving in and out of thick forested areas, and it's fucking pouring.
He keeps an eye on his phone and when there's one bar, he calls her. He lifts the phone to his ear as Manny attaches the speaker and sets the phone to play his music list. The Doors, 'Riders on the storm,' is playing.
Elliot waits for Olivia to answer or for the voice mail to pick up.
But somewhere inside that truck, another phone is ringing.
It's Liv's phone.
He unfastens his seatbelt, turns around and starts sifting through piles of damp, greasy paper towels, miscellaneous food trash, tools, cords, electrical wires and maps. The glow from the display helps him find it.
The phone stops ringing, but the display shows a missed call from Elliot.
He settles back in the front seat, shoves the phones into his jacket pocket, then grabs Manny's collar… "You sonofabitch! Where is she?" he charges angrily.
Meanwhile, the truck crosses the double yellow line.
"Right where I left her, Stabler," he replies smugly. The hoarseness is suddenly gone and the voice is familiar.
It's James.
Fuck…
Another disguise, Elliot realizes, glaring back at the man.
Manny/James has short, white-blonde hair and a mustache. The red blotches along his cheek and eyes could be make-up to hide his scar or cover up other features. His jaw looks a little swollen compared to what he remembers noticing about James before. Could be any number of products out there which he uses to make subtle changes to his appearance.
He was wearing a mask when he came into the bar and took Olivia away at gunpoint. They never saw his face.
"If you want to see your partner again, you might just want to calm the fuck down!"
"You think I'm playing games, pal? If you hurt her, I'll fucking end you! No more disguises, no more hiding. Your ass is mine! Got me?" he groans, tightening his grip on his collar.
He wants to rip this guy's head off. He would, if they weren't going 50 mph down a two-lane road in the pouring rain.
James releases the wheel for a second, and nails Elliot in the chest with his elbow. Elliot falls back toward the passenger side.
When Elliot starts toward him again, James reaches underneath the driver's seat and retrieves a gun. The truck swerves slightly into the left lane while he turns his attention from the road to Elliot. As he points the gun at him, he replies, "You'll do what…Elliot? What are you going to do?"
A semi driver suddenly appears at the top of the hill. He blasts his horn and swerves hard onto the shoulder to avoid hitting them.
James jerks the wheel quickly, steering out of the way of the truck. The truck tires slip on the muddy shoulder and the truck fishtails as he pulls back into the lane.
While James is distracted by the semi, Elliot tries to intercept the gun. He ends up batting the gun out of his hand. It lands somewhere in the backseat of the cab, but it's too dark to see it. Elliot grabs him by the collar again. "You don't want to fuck with me, James! WHERE is she?"
James is already reaching under his seat for a second gun. "Go to hell…" He lifts his arm, aims the gun toward Elliot and pulls the trigger.
All they hear is a click.
Empty barrel. Has to be his service weapon.
"No bullets. Man, that sucks," Elliot states with a satisfied smirk. The ammo is still in his jacket pocket.
James tosses it behind him in the cab.
Elliot throws a punch, hitting James in the jaw.
The truck veers onto the right shoulder again while James is still in a daze. Elliot steadies the wheel to keep them from hitting the guard rail then brings his foot near the controls. He hits the brakes and the truck fishtails before it comes to a stop in the middle of the road. Elliot presses the emergency brake.
The rain is still coming down hard. A loud clap of thunder echoes around them for a couple seconds.
While James unfastens his seatbelt and tries to retrieve one of the guns, Elliot gets out of the cab, grabs James by the arms and yanks him out of the truck. James bumps the step a little forcefully on the way down and lands on his side on the pavement.
That had to hurt, Elliot thinks to himself grinning.
Before he can get up on his own, Elliot grabs him by the collar, throws him against the side of the truck and punches him in the jaw. James is jarred from the impact and his lip is bleeding. Elliot attempts a second punch, but James blocks it. He balls up his fist and punches Elliot in the stomach. He doubles over from the pain, wondering if he might throw up.
Before Elliot recovers, James comes at him again. He hits him in the stomach a second time, punches him in the jaw and Elliot falls toward the pavement. He tastes blood coming from the inside of his lip.
While Elliot's trying to get back up, James goes to the passenger side of the truck to retrieve one of the guns.
Elliot catches up with him, grabs him by the collar and throws another punch. James is hit in the eye, takes a stumble and falls. Elliot retrieves one of the guns and realizes it's his own. There's no time to re-load or search for one of the other guns before James comes at him again. Elliot is punched in the face and falls, landing in a pool of mud, gravel and rainwater. His back and shoulder are sore from the impact.
James hurries to the driver's side door and gets back into the vehicle. "You won't find her. You don't have a fucking clue where she is!" he yells back at Elliot, before he reaches over and slams the passenger side door. He releases the emergency brake and takes off.
His own gun is on the ground next to him. He extends his fingers until he has it. With some effort, he pushes himself up on his hands and knees, and makes his way to the shoulder so he's off the road surface.
Along the shoulder is a guard rail, and just beyond that is a steep drop off. The shoulder's wide, but there isn't much room to walk that's not saturated in mud.
The rain is back to a steady shower. In the distance, there's thunder.
For a couple minutes, he works at catching his breath, willing himself not to throw up or pass out. There's still the taste of blood in his mouth.
He reaches inside his pocket, relieved to find that he still has both cell phones. The top of Liv's is cracked. There's no cell phone signal so he can't call for help. He puts them both back in his pocket.
Next, he reloads his gun and puts it back on his clip.
If James shows up again, he'll be ready.
He pushes himself up until he's standing, although he's woozy for the moment. When he is able to move, he starts out slowly.
The first mile marker he locates says 79. He has no idea whether James planned to take him to Olivia, or what the 106 was about.
James/Manny probably sent the text when he went back inside the bar.
It's maybe another 20 minutes before his legs start to give out. He stops to rest beside the guard rail and checks his phone again.
There's still no signal.
He's beyond exhausted. When the wind blows, he feels colder. Everything hurts, but that's probably what's keeping him awake. His face, his head, and his stomach—he can't decide what hurts worse. He's lucky James didn't crack a few ribs when he punched him in the gut. His back, shoulders and neck are tense and sore from where he hit the ground.
When he feels a little stronger, he stands and continues on. He's got to find some help. It's probably too much to hope that someone will drive by, but he stays alert in case someone does.
He's also got to be ready in case James decides to return. He's probably gone back to wherever he took Liv.
Just let her be okay, he prays for about the twentieth time.
The rain has finally tapered off, but the wind picks up again. There's lightning in the distance. Occasionally, he sees some flashes of light through the trees.
He's wearing a jacket, t-shirt and jeans. He changed clothes just before he and Olivia went to the bar, because those clothes were soaked through, and now so are these. If anything, the wet clothes are making him hurt worse. He just wants to take them off and stand under a hot shower.
He stops walking again when he thinks he hears something. It sounds like someone's shouting.
Is there someone else out here…?
Maybe there's houses around, but he doesn't remember seeing any driveways.
Or maybe he's just hearing things.
He continues on, then stops dead in his tracks a few minutes later…
"HELP!"
James left Olivia somewhere. He mentioned they were getting close, but he still doesn't know what that message meant.
What if he was telling the truth and he brought her somewhere near here? Could she have escaped?
Of course she could… She's Olivia.
He cups his hands over his mouth and yells out her name.
Maybe it's wishful thinking, but what else has he got?
"EL!"
What the fuck…?
About 200 feet ahead, someone emerges through a thick pile of brush, climbs the guard rail and steps onto the shoulder of the road.
No way. Absolutely no fucking way. Impossible.
He's either asleep, or he's hallucinating thanks to James's last punch.
There's a silhouette of a person coming toward him.
"LIV!"
"EL! IT'S ME!"
He'll confess everything he's messed up during the past year just for this.
He starts sprinting toward her. Every step hurts but he doesn't care.
40 paces…20 paces…10 paces… He's found her.
"Olivia…" he mutters breathlessly. "Oh thank God!"
They close the last few feet and he embraces her deeply. She's just as soaked from the rain as he is. Seems to be okay otherwise.
He still doesn't know how the hell he found her. But she's here. She's safe.
"El? You okay?"
He rests his face in the strands of dampened hair that lay across her neck and shoulder, and sighs. "I am now."
x
She settles back, he releases her and she glances him over. "Oh my God, what happened to you?"
"James…" he answers, still catching his breath.
There's compassion in her eyes when she looks at him. He wants to hold her again. He wants another kiss from her like the one they had at the bar.
"I'm fine," he offers feebly.
"Like hell you are… How did this happen?"
"We got into it on the ride over. I got him to pull off the road and we had a pretty good fist fight."
"He brought you out here…?" she asks disbelievingly.
"He tricked me into thinking he was someone else. Sounds like he was setting a trap. I'm sure you didn't send me a text message tonight…"
She shakes her head in confusion. "He grabbed my cell phone."
"I know, I've got it right here…" Elliot pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to her.
She touches the screen, the light comes on. "No signal."
"Tell me about it," he grumbles. "Been trying to get one so I could call for help."
She eyes the cracked display, then glances back up at him. "What hap—"
"Sorry about that… Probably from the fight."
"I hope you got in a few punches."
"He'll need a better disguise next time," Elliot smirks. "I think I broke his nose."
"Good!" She smiles approvingly. "So is Mara okay?"
"Yeah, a county officer showed up. Said he'd get her somewhere safe for the night… Oh, ummm… Spanner and Hart were killed," he frowns. "A patrol officer found the car a few blocks away. Has to be James."
"He blindfolded me, tied my wrists and ankles and threw me into a pick-up truck. The truck stopped briefly and there was gunfire. Must have been when it happened," she says, frowning.
"How did you escape?"
"He brought me to this small house, put me in a basement. I got out of the restraints, broke a window and crawled out. Just kept running. He was already gone."
"A house...?" he ponders.
"Yeah. Small one-level about a mile or two from here. I'm not sure if I could find it again. Maybe if I had a map…?"
"106!" he blurts out, wide-eyed.
"What?"
"He gave me your location when he sent the message. It was all a trap. Here look at this…" Elliot takes out his cell phone and shows the message he received.
"R187-106. 10-13?" she reads, confusion in her tone.
"Right. Me and that officer assumed that R-187 was a highway, which it is, and 106 was a mile-marker or an exit. Message came from your phone, so I thought you were texting me your location and saying you needed help."
She shakes her head. "Wasn't me."
As they're talking, her hand clutches the sleeve of his jacket. It's a small gesture and he wonders if she's even aware of it. The lightest physical contact with her and their close proximity is making his heart race.
"Uh… Guess we should figure out a way back," he interjects nervously. "We came from that way…" He points in the direction he's facing and starts to walk.
She tugs back on his sleeve to halt him. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I just walked about two miles. I'll be fine until we get somewhere."
She doesn't believe him. "There's a park and visitor's center in that direction," she points somewhere beyond the guard rail.
"Won't it be closed?"
"There's no one in there, but it's not locked. I've already made a pit stop. There's public restrooms, showers. We'll get you cleaned up. Come on."
"So how bad do I look?"
"Not going to answer that," she smirks.
He grins at her playfulness, but the smile fades after a moment. "You know he's just gathering up more resources for later. He could have killed us both back there, but he didn't. This isn't game over."
"Of course. That's what he does."
"So let's keep going…"
She shakes her head. "You're in no shape for round two and neither am I. It's at least fifteen miles back to town. Let's get you cleaned up, grab a power nap somewhere dry, then we'll find our way back."
"I could definitely use a power nap."
x
"Careful…careful…" Olivia offers, guiding Elliot as they climb down a sloped rock pile.
Elliot grimaces when he feels the strain in his upper legs and lower back.
"And you said you were fine…?"
"It only hurts when I climb down steep rock piles."
"Keep whining and I'll have to start calling you Munch," she teases.
They cross an area with lots of trees and thick brush. The terrain is sloped, rocky, and in most cases, muddy from the rain. The moonlight is almost non-existent in the denser parts. They use the light from their phones when they need to see where to go.
There's a few moments when she considers stopping because she knows he's uncomfortable. But he insists that they continue on. When the lights from the park start to filter in through the dense tree area, she realizes they're getting close. It takes them about thirty minutes to reach the place.
"The power's back?"
"It was when I came through here before," she replies. "I don't think the outage was everywhere."
Elliot takes out his phone and checks. "No signal."
Besides tennis courts, picnic tables, and a few of those animal spring-rider toys for kids, there's a tourist information center building. They go inside. The first thing Elliot notices is the bright florescent lighting against the stark white walls. He shields his eyes until they adjust. The strain is making his head hurt worse.
She glances back at him with concern. "I hope you didn't get a concussion, El."
He shrugs. "I think I'm alright."
"You'd better be," she says. "I wonder if they have a first aid kit?"
"You're right, Liv... A few times, I've taken the kids to a park upstate, and had to hunt for some first aid. One of the kids would usually have a scratched-up knee, a bee sting or would have gotten into some poison ivy. Fortunately, the visitor's center had some first aid supplies."
It's a large open room with a wall of pamphlets, a map of the area, and a couple of posters about events which have long since passed their due date. There's a large glass display case with more information about the region.
Beside the glass display case, there's a folding table, two chairs and a large cardboard box which sits on the floor beneath the table.
Just passed the display case, there's a hallway leading to the restrooms. "I need to use the bathroom," Elliot announces as he heads there.
"I'll see if I can find a first aid kit." Olivia's eyes drift about the room, noticing a couple of closets.
She tries a few of the doors, but they're locked. There's a broom closet at the end of the walkway leading to the bathrooms and that door is open. On the top shelf is a couple of boxes containing picture slides. There's a brown paper bag sitting there too. She opens it and finds an EpiPen, some gauze tape and gauze pads, alcohol wipes, bandages and a couple packets of Motrin.
"This will work," she concludes aloud. She closes the closet door. Curiosity strikes when she takes another glance at the cardboard box. Stapled to one side of the box is a note left by someone, saying that the shirts inside were spelled wrong and the company didn't want them shipped back. The note says to toss them.
She opens the box. They're gray cotton t-shirts with logos on the front. There's about two dozen in there.
They're tossing them out anyway.
She picks out a few and starts toward the men's bathroom.
x
Elliot wanders inside. There's a row of sinks along one wall and the toilets are directly across from them. There's a couple of shower stalls in the corner.
He approaches the sinks, stopping short when he sees his reflection in the mirror…
Liv wasn't kidding. What a mess.
His jaw is red and a little swollen, and his bottom lip is cut. The side of his face has streaks of dirt and dried blood.
He washes his hands first, then splashes some water on his face. He grabs a couple paper towels, dampens them with some warm water and dabs at the places on his face.
Most of the dried blood wipes right off. In fact, aside from a cut on his forehead and one on his lip, that's pretty much it.
He finishes using the bathroom, comes out of the stall as Olivia cracks the door open. "Hey, El… You decent?"
"Yeah, come in."
She pauses when she sees his face. "Well that looks better."
"Most of it was dried blood. Maybe some dirt and mud from the road."
"How did you run into James anyway?" she asks quizzically.
"James found me. Different disguise, obviously. While I was waiting for the agents to show up, I stopped to help this guy who was having problems with his truck. Afterward, I went back inside to talk to the officer and got the text message. While me and the officer are trying to hunt down the agents, the guy I helped comes back into the bar and overhears me talking to the officer about your text. He says he's a security officer from Cleveland County Correctional. He has a badge. Name says Emanuel Lister. He calls himself Manny. He offers me a ride out to find you. I didn't know if I had time to wait around for some officer to be available, so I took him up on it. On the way there, I call your phone and hear it ringing in the back of his truck..."
They exchange a wary glance.
"So this Manny Lister is probably his latest victim," Olivia vocalizes what they both conclude.
"Stole his ID and probably his truck," he adds with a sigh.
"You said your back's sore too?" she prompts, directing them back to his injuries.
He nods.
"Let's check it."
He peels off his jacket and shirt and lays them over one of the sinks. Sure enough, there's some bruising and redness.
"He really got you good, but…I don't see any broken skin." She lifts her eyes up toward the back of his scalp and notices some dry blood. "Oh wait…" She leans closer to examine it.
"How bad does it look?" he asks.
"You should probably get into the shower and rinse it. I found a couple of gauze pads, alcohol wipes, some tape and some Motrin. There's a box of misprinted t-shirts that no one wants. I thought we might need some cleaning cloths..." She holds it up to show him. "…Or you could just change your shirt if you want."
He glances it over. "Only if you put one on too."
"Why? So we'll match?"
"It'll look cuter on you," he flirts.
She grins back. "Umm… Guess I'll let you go get in the shower…," she mutters nervously, stealing another glance at his arms and his chest. She quickly lowers her gaze before he sees the flush in her cheeks.
"Are you going to grab one too?"
She gives a half-shrug. "I might wash up a little. I climbed through some bad spots." She hands him some extra shirts. "Here, take a couple to dry off. I'll meet you back here."
"Okay, see you in a few."
He watches her leave.
The smile he's been trying to suppress for a while suddenly appears.
x
"No tornado?" Olivia asks.
"The officer said one touched down about a mile and a half away."
"Glad I missed it." She lightly dabs an alcohol wipe on the back of his head where the cut is and he sucks in a breath.
"I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. You're helping, Liv."
"Yeah, but you're not breathing…"
He exhales. "It's just a little tender."
"Looks like you two really got into it."
"Yeah, you know…"
Their eyes meet for a few seconds. She sees the concern in him and realizes that it probably fueled some of this battle.
"I escaped, El. Just had to find a way to contact you."
"Yeah, but we both know what he's capable of."
"Just remember that you're not the only one who worries about their partner."
He smiles back at her. "Noted."
x
They re-enter the hallway just outside the bathrooms.
"So what do you think? Will this work?" he says, eyeing the floor in the hallway. There are no lights on in that hallway, just the main room. They could probably find a light switch and make the entire place completely dark, but they don't plan to be there very long.
"Guess it'll have to do," she answers.
The entire place had this thin carpet with almost no padding. They'd have to do without blankets. They grabbed the remaining t-shirts in the box and rolled them to make a couple of pillows.
"Makes you miss that motel we were supposed to stay at tonight, huh?" Elliot adds.
"No kidding." She sets her phone's alarm. "You think two hours will do it?"
"Yeah, that's good."
She sets the phone beside her.
"Hey, Liv, do you think he tracked us by the Crown Vic?" he suddenly ponders.
"I had the same thought earlier. We'll have to check it for bugs later."
He squats down on the floor and she sits beside him. The broom closet is directly behind their heads. He folds four t-shirts, gives her two and sets the other two behind his head.
Olivia is laying on her side facing away from him, Elliot is on his back.
"This floor is going to kill your back, El…"
"It's just a two hour nap. I'll be fine."
"But you're already sore."
"I took some Motrin… Thanks, by the way." He keeps his eyes on her for a minute then adds… "You can scoot closer, Liv, I won't bite."
She lifts her head and glares back. He extends his arm, giving her the opportunity to move closer if she chooses. There's maybe two feet between them.
"I promise not to mention this to the guys when we get back. God forbid they ever find out that you kissed me," he teases.
He knows he was the one who kissed her. Admittedly, he's just sort of messing with her. He wonders if this conversation would ever come up or if they'll just avoid it like it never happened.
She ponders it for a few more seconds, then she props her pillow against his arm and rests her head there. It gives her a little more support and his arm blocks the draft that's coming underneath the door.
Elliot rolls onto his side to face her. He's sore, but it's okay for the time being.
She's less than a foot away from him now, and he's fighting the urge to wrap his other arm around her.
A few minutes later, when he assumes she's almost asleep, she suddenly corrects him. "You were the one who kissed me."
Maybe it's wrong, but he can't resist.
"So how was it...?"
"How was what?"
"The kiss. On a scale of 1 to 10…"
"Good night, El."
About a minute later…
"Hey El?"
"Yeah?"
"Seven and a half."
"I want a make-up test."
She smirks. "G'night, El."
"Night, Liv."
Another minute passes.
"Liv?"
"What?"
"You were an 11."
TBC…