Nick sits at his desk, ready to bang his head into it. They are several hours into their investigation, and they have absolutely no leads. They know the model of the mass produced inkjet printer. Cragen stands in the middle of the squad room.
"What are we missing?" Cragen questions.
"Everything," John answers.
Fin chimes in, "There are no leads. We have no idea who he is. We have no idea where he took her. We don't know why he took her. There is no DNA evidence."
"We have to find her," Nick insists.
"We have other cases. Captain, they're aren't enough of us," Amanda adds.
"I put a call into the FBI, they're on their way."
"Yeah, but whose going to make sure that they do their jobs?" Munch wonders.
"I called Elliot, too. He's on his way in."
"Did you tell him what happened?" Fin queries.
"No, but I will. My hope is that he will be willing to devote his time to this."
She ends the conversation, there. She looks out the window, but she finds it difficult to keep her eyes open. After less than an hour she drifts back to sleep. When she wakes up, she's somewhere else. She is no longer in the van. She is no longer shackled to the floor.
She surveys her surroundings. She is in a basement. She sits on a roll-away bed. In the corner of the room there is a stand, with a microwave, and a toaster. Next to it is a mini-fridge. She feels some relief, that she is no longer shackled. She gets off the roll away bed, and searches the room for any type of weapon. She finds a few bottles of water in the fridge, and a jar of jelly. Inside the drawer of the stand on which the microwave, and toaster sit, she finds peanut butter, bread, and plastic silverware.
She finds a small bathroom. A shower, a sink, and a toilet. She leaves the bathroom, and returns to the other room. She walks past the rollaway bed, towards the left side of the room. She finds a dresser. Inside she finds six orange jumpsuits. She looks down, and realizes that she's no longer in her pajamas, instead she's wearing the orange scrubs, and pair of shoes, with no laces. Above the dresser is a calendar secured to the wall with duct tape.
There is no mirror. The only thing that can possibly be used for a weapon is a cord off one of the appliances. She walks to the door. It's made of steel. She reaches for the knob. She quickly realizes that is locked from the other side. She touches the walls, they are harder than normal drywall. She wonders if they are made of lead. She walks back across the room. She takes a seat on the bed. She looks up, and finds a camera, in the corner of the room.
He's watching her. He's keeping an eye on her, in her personal prison. She's wearing a jumpsuit, like a prisoner. Her shoes have no laces. Her cell is somewhat larger than eight by eight. She estimates somewhere closer to ten by twelve. She does have access to food. There is a clock, on the wall, to help her measure the time.
She hears the bolt being unlocked, from the other side. She sits perfectly still, and stares at the door. She waits for it to open. He steps into the room, and closes the door behind him. She hears the door lock, without him touching it. He turns off the light, to make it difficult for her to see him. She hears his footsteps as he approaches her.
"What do you want from me?" she questions.
"Your soul, and your shield," he snarls.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"To teach you a lesson. Luckily, for you, I haven't decided whether I want your life, or not."
"Please, don't do this."
"We have only just begun. This is your prison, and I am the warden. It is my job to make your life hell."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"You deserve it."
"Did I do something to you?"
"I don't want to talk about that, detective," he admits, getting closer to her.
"They're going to find you," she warns him.
"How? They don't know where you are."
"Where am I?"
"Somewhere that they will never find you."
"They are going to find you. They will find out who you are, and they will hunt you down."
"You're wrong. I am nobody. Nobody notices me. Nobody will ever find you. Maybe I will do you a courtesy, if I decide I want your life, and take your body back to the great state of New York, one piece at a time, just to taunt them."
"They're going to find you."
"No, they're not. You've been missing for fifteen hours now."
She thinks back to the clock on the wall. She realizes that it's just after six p.m., which means she was gone, for at least seven hours, before anyone realized it.
"Why me?"
"You know exactly why, detective Benson."
Before she can say anything else, she feels a cool blade pressing against her neck. She freezes, trying not to move, or swallow, or even breathe.
"You're not in charge here. You're not a hero, here. You're my prisoner. You're a victim."
Her heart drops, into her stomach, upon hearing his last sentence. She's hungry, and weak. She's groggy from whatever medication he's given her.
She flinches, when she hears his belt buckle. The knife nicks her throat, causing a superficial wound. She feels a few drops of blood trickle down her neck. He grabs her hands, and she tries to resist. He begins wrapping duct tape around her wrists, to bind her. He cuts the piece of tape, with his knife. She knows she has to make her move, now. She slides off the bed, onto her feet.
He reacts quickly, as she makes her way into the bathroom. She reaches for the door, to slam it, and create a barrier. Suddenly she makes the realization that there is no door. His footsteps come near her, in the dark. She freezes. There is no where to run, and nowhere to hide. The footsteps stop. She can hear him breathing, just a few feet away. She hears a crack. The leather belt smacks against the inside of her leg.
She grabs the belt. Instantly, she realizes that this is a mistake. He pulls her towards him. He grabs her by the shirt, and drags her out of the room. She fights the urge to cry, as she struggles with him. She tries to wiggle free of his grip. He lets go of her, for a brief second. He grabs her by the hair, instead.
"Fight if you want to, it makes it more enjoyable for me," he taunts her.
She lifts her knee, directing it towards him. He catches her leg, and bends it behind her. He shoves her against the wall, as hard as he can. The back of her head hits the wall. He lets go of her leg, as she attempts to regain her balance. He pulls her forward, by her shirt. He rips it off her. She fights him. He puts his hand around her neck. She struggles to breathe. He notices her hand moving. She reaches up, with her bound hands, in an attempt to knock his hand away. He lets go of her neck. He pulls her forward, and spins her around. He presses her face first into the wall. She feels a sense of confusion, when he takes a step back.
The cracking sound quickly clears up her confusion. She tries to move. Her attempts prove too little, too late. The belt rips into her back. He steps forward, as she stumbles towards the ground, in pain. He keeps her from hitting the ground. She finds herself staring down her attacker, with her back literally against the wall. He presses his forearm against her windpipe, under her chin.
"Are you done fighting it, yet?"