Hello everybody!
It's time for a new story, if you are up to it. In my head, this is going to be quite different from what I've done so far but I will let you be the judge of that.
Reviews always welcome, they mean so much to me with all the time and effort going into this.
The phone on his desk started buzzing and Cal looked up from the papers he was reading, a smirk immediately coming up to his face. Slowly, savouring the moment he had been waiting for for days, he clasped his hands together and rested them on the desk, staring at the device for a while before picking up the call with a wide grin.
"I knew it, Foster!" He boomed loudly through the speaker. "What happened to 'I'll show you how people on holiday behave'? And no, I won't spare it to you just because you waited until the last day to call."
"Cal-"
"I didn't burn down the place," he cut her off, listing in an almost singing voice and pace he had clearly rehearsed. "I didn't fire anybody and nobody threatened to leave and payroll was done. So, as I told you, I am perfectly capable of running this place for a few days."
"Did you remember to call the fire safety company to check the fire extinguishers and smoke detectors?"
Cal's smug grin froze on his lips and he clenched his jaw, panicking for a brief moment and then scrambling to find the note with the things to do she had prepared for him before she left.
"Of course, they are coming-"
"I'm joking, Cal. That's not due until next month." She chuckled over the phone, picturing his confusion followed by a very likely resented expression for her naughty move. "Happy to see everything is under control, and for the record I never doubted you."
"Liar!"
He muttered, but then they both laughed it off. Then Cal picked up the phone and brought it to his ear, leaning back on the chair and propping his feet on the desk.
"So why did you call then, love? Miss me?"
"Cal, I am enjoying a cocktail by the pool and waiting for artisanal ice cream to be served to me in an outrageously big bowl with chocolate syrup and fresh strawberries." She explained with a seemingly flat voice, preceded by a long sigh as if the detailed description could make the pleasant moment last longer. "What do you think?"
"What are you wearing?" Cal teasingly asked in return with an exaggerated sultry voice, to which Gillian responded with a loud and sudden laugh that nearly deafened him. "Seriously Gill, what's up?"
"Well, your opening makes it easier than I thought."
"What?"
"I am enjoying this break more than I thought so I was thinking about taking a few more days." Cal smirked, amused by the vague shyness in her voice, as if she was asking him something impossible. "I didn't know how to ask but since you seem to have everything under control-"
"I do, and you should take some more time off, love." He urged to respond, he never liked to hear her beg for anything and he sure wasn't going to have it when it came to something like that. "You haven't taken a holiday in years, God knows you deserve it!"
"Are you sure it won't be a problem?"
"Now I am getting offended, Foster!" He chuckled, then heard her sigh and tried to become more serious. "If I tell you you can take a whole extra week would you be impressed by my ability and commitment, or resentful to find out I can keep this place in business without you?"
"Why does it always have to be about you, Cal?" Gillian shot back with a quick response. "And maybe I'm just too scared you'll realise you don't need me at all."
"C'mon now, love." He whispered in a soft voice. "We both know that's not possible."
It might have been the tone of this voice, it most certainly was, but Cal's response brought a silent pause to their friendly exchange. Somehow, even joking about the vague possibility of a Lightman Group running only on his shoulders, was an extremely saddening thought.
"Listen Gill, take all the time you want ok?" He tried to reel in the conversation. "I'll manage, and Anna is being of great help with the paperwork stuff and everybody is just too terrified of not having you around as a cushion in case I go off the rails so they're all on their best behaviour. But you have to do me a favour."
"Of course." Cal could hear the smile in her voice. "What is it?"
"Can you get me one of those tequila bottles with the worm in it? There's this one you can only find in Mexico, I'll text you the name."
"Is that it?" He hummed yes and she chuckled. "Hold on, is this something that is going to get me arrested?"
"As entertaining as that sounds, love, no it won't. Besides, what would be the fun in that if I can't be there to see the drama unfold?"
"Why are you so hung up on seeing me getting in trouble?"
"That's usually my thing, Giil. I am learning how to share."
Foster sighed on the other side, possibly rolling her eyes, then they went through another silent break until she spoke again.
"So, I was thinking about two more days. Three tops."
"Why not a whole week?"
"Because the hotel can only extend my reservation for so long, and I might get the airline to move my return ticket for a little less."
"Right then. Guess I'll see you on Wednesday then?"
"Sure. I'll call anyway, ok?"
"Ok." Cal sighed and straightened up. "You go have fun now, love. And stop calling."
"Ok." She chuckled, although Cal was being very serious. "Thanks, Cal. For everything."
"You're welcome, love."
With that the conversation was over, Cal hung up and shook his head trying to get out of his mind the image of Gillian in a revealing outfit, possibly a two-piece swimsuit, basking in the sun by the pool. He had to go and announce to the staff that they were stuck with him for a few more days, and he'd better not have such a dreamy expression all over his face as he did that.
He had told her not to call, knowing his request was likely to go ignored. Gillian had indeed managed not to check on him for a whole week, and quite frankly that had been a miracle. As much as she wanted, and likely needed, more days of vacation, there was no way she could go that long without feeling the physical urge to call.
Yet. she had. After her call on Saturday, Cal hadn't been surprised not to hear from her for a couple of days. She really did deserve some proper R&R and she had been bragging about the resort she was going to stay at for days before leaving, so he figured she was making the most of it. He had expected a call on Monday, or Tuesday at the latest, if not to check on the status of the company at least to let him know when she'd be back exactly. But nothing had come and he had felt it appropriate, as a business partner, to give her a ring and square things off.
She hadn't answered, the phone rang endlessly the first time and went straight to voicemail the two following times. After the first time he had chuckled about it, thinking she might have found some good company over there and, understandably, his name coming up on the caller ID didn't bode well with that scenario. But the two calls going to voicemail were a bit more unusual, especially since he had left a message both times asking to be called back and she hadn't obliged.
After that, the curiosity started to slowly morph into something else. He tried to keep at bait, to call himself paranoid and to tell himself that after the whole Burns fiasco he sure couldn't risk overreacting to Gillian possibly having a liaison with some exotic stranger miles and miles away and ruin her well earned holiday and whatever else she may have found along the way. The problem was that he wasn't comfortable with not being paranoid; truth was overthinking and preparing for the worst came natural to him, and after the third call he was slipping to the worried side.
On Tuesday night, not long after he had put the phone down after the last unanswered call, Cal looked down at the device and at the list of failed interactions with Gillian. And he decided he'd had enough, and that there was nothing wrong with being a little paranoid.
He grumbled something to himself then shouted out to Emily that he was going out, leaving in a hurry before she even had the time to ask where. On his way to Gillian's house he thought about calling her again but gave up, knowing he wasn't going to get a different outcome. When he arrived he could see that the lights were off but Gillian's car was parked out front, which didn't do much to add to his growing concern. The car suggested that she was home, but the lights off and the lack of answer didn't go hand in hand with that detail.
Feeling more and more tense, Cal parked his vehicle and went up to the door, fishing in his pocket for his copy of the key to her place. It was locked, which he found strangely reassuring, then he stepped in and closed the door behind him and his hand went for the switch, but then hesitated and decided not to get the lights on. It all seemed silent and quiet, although eerie was probably the best word to describe the atmosphere, but for some reason he thought it best to keep things in the darkness a little longer.
Careful, probably more than he needed to be, Cal stepped a little forward to get to the living room but stumbled on something that produced a soft thud when hitting the floor. Cal cursed out loud to the empty room and went looking for the nearest switch, and when the lights flooded the room he looked down at his feet. The thing he had kicked in the dark was a suitcase, Gillian's suitcase, which was now lying on the side. There was no mistake about it, he remembered that huge monstrosity from when she had moved into that apartment and he had had the questionable privilege of dragging it, full of books, from the moving truck to the house.
At that point, Cal felt authorised to go on full panic mode. Gillian wasn't answering her phone, she wasn't home but she had been there at some time. Nothing of that was reassuring: Gillian Foster was a responsible and conscious woman, the kind of person who unpacks the second they get home, the kind that answers when people call or calls back after receiving voicemails. The kind of person who doesn't disappear without notice nor explanation.
Suddenly feeling short of breath and a bit dizzy, Cal kneeled down by the suitcase and checked the flight tag. He didn't know what instinct had pushed him to do so, but he was glad he had followed it despite the outcome. The adhesive label around the suitcase handle had the DCA code neatly printed on it, along with the day the piece of luggage had travelled from Mexico to Washington DC. According to that the suitcase, and likely its owner with it, had flown back to DC on Saturday: three days earlier, the day she had called from her holiday which, he was starting to realise, was not entirely accurate. Had Gillian been home, or at least in Washington, when she had called to ask for more days? If so, why?
Cal didn't think he could find those or any other answers there, but looking around the apartment seemed the best idea. His heart pounding, his mind racing with nefarious scenarios, he tried to call out her name with no response. He wasn't expecting any but he tried anyway, then Cal made a run for the bedroom fully expecting to find her there, only hurt, at best. Nothing of the sort, but what he did find was in no way better.
Cal Lightman was not one easy to panic, but there was no other reaction he could have to what he saw. The room was tossed, the mattress had been flipped and very little of Gillian's personal belongings and furniture had been spared.
And even without checking the rest of the house he knew she was nowhere to be found.
Thoughts?
