~PART TWO~
There was only one thing left to do now…the most important thing of them all.
Actually, it was meant to be the priority that day. Olivia promised it would be priority that morning.
But 14 hours and 81 unanswered calls to her cell phone later, Peter became aggravated. He drove straight to the Bureau building not even daring to think that something may have happened to her again. The possibility of it was even greater now given the escalation of the killings.
He didn't like what he was seeing as he went straight towards Olivia's office. Neither Broyles nor Charlie were around to answer any of his questions and everyone seem to divert their eyes away from him, focusing on cases OTHER than the string of killings.
He entered Olivia's office.
It was empty.
No papers, no pictures, no boxes packed with files.
The empty desk and the chair that came with it were the only things left behind.
"Dammit!" Peter said out loud getting strange stares from the employees outside.
This was worse than Olivia getting kidnapped, in his opinion. It was more hurtful than that.
She left…she just left.
No notification. Not even a goodbye note.
Peter checked the inbox on phone every second he got. Nothing. He even checked messages from other names in his inbox, hoping that Olivia was using some sort of alias to contact him.
But nothing…not a goddamn thing.
He droved straight to Olivia's with his hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel.
How could she do this? How could she just leave everything just like that?
Sure she didn't have a choice, neither did he. They both had to run eventually.
Given everything they've been through together wasn't he worth at least a goodbye? A false promise to his face was rather insulting to him and his loyalty to her.
It made him grip the steering wheel even harder, and make the turns to her place even sharper.
There was a grim chance that Olivia would be home if he was lucky…perhaps he would catch her in the middle of packing. And then, he would definitely let Olivia have it.
When he arrived at her door, he felt hopeful. The door was left halfway open.
But everything froze when Peter got closer to the door. The side and the frame were partially dislodged…broken wood sticking out.
Someone had broken in.
He won't think the worst…not here.
But that was all he could think of when he cautiously stepped in and saw the damaged to the living room.
A coffee table was left in two. A television set no longer had a screen. A fallen tall lamp lay busted near the fireplace.
For one brief second, he saw his world nearly stopped when he saw a trail of blood on the floor coming from the kitchen.
He followed the trail in.
Two bodies lied in a pool of blood in that kitchen…
…both of them male.
Peter let himself breath again.
He looked at them closer. One had his skull partially opened. The other had been stabbed with kitchen knives.
Peter chuckled to himself as he turned away from the mess in the kitchen.
Oh, Olivia.
He should have known.
Somehow, Olivia always had a way to get out of any mess. The bodies on the floor proved once again that she knew how to take care of herself…
…and that she knew how to put up one helluva good fight.
But he didn't want to induce false hope into himself just yet. He wanted to make absolutely sure. So he carefully checked every room in the house.
On his way to the second floor, he became distressed by the small splatter of blood he found on the wall…not to mention the bullet-ridden hand rails as he climbed up the stairs. The rooms on the second floor seemed untouched…until he found another small trail of dried blood…
…leading straight into Olivia's bedroom.
"Liv!"
Finding not a single soul present, Peter ran in and out of every room of the second floor calling for her, searching for her in possible places and finding only silence and emptiness.
He returned to Olivia's bedroom and was surprised to find it so empty and clean. The blood trail, he observed ended on top of her well-made bed. There was an opened First-Aid box with bandages and various metal items scattered on the comforter.
Another item on the bed caught Peter's eye: a blood-dried bullet.
That angered Peter more. Surely Olivia was alive. She had already packed her stuff and was already on the move, but damn it, she was running off wounded!
He called every hospital and clinic in the area. No Dunham would check in. Made sense that she got out the First Aid kit and got the bullet wound out herself just to avoid the very need of going to a hospital.
But his anger was clearly becoming heartbreak.
It hurt him that Olivia was somewhere out there badly hurt from the attempted attack.
But what still hurt him most was that she was gone.
He spent about a whole hour in that house searching for some sort of sign…some sort of clue as to where she may have went…collecting weapons from the dead attackers in the process.
But Olivia was too clever for that. She wouldn't leave a trace or a hint as to where she would go.
On top of the emptied dresser, Peter noticed an arrangement of photo frames. Some of the photo frames were now emptied leaving behind only pictures that were just of herself.
Peter was nearly half tempted to swipe a few of these photos for himself…just for his own comfort.
Then it hit him.
He still had one more chance to catch up with Olivia before she got away from him.
There was still one place where she could possibly head to before he lost track of her for good.
onto Part Three (it's long and it's pure Bolivia, pinky swear!)