The door opens, and he steps in, just like clock work. He doesn't say anything. She knows what he wants. She interrupts his thought process, mid-step.
"Tell me your name," she insists.
He freezes, eight feet away from her. He tilts his head upwards, and his eyes meet hers.
"I told you, that isn't important."
"Can we have a moment of honesty here?" she begs.
"Fine," he agrees.
"You aren't going to let me out of here alive, we both know that."
"I told you that I haven't decided that, yet."
"Yes you have," she argues.
"What is your point?"
"The chances of me leaving here, in any way, other than a body bag, are slim to none, right?"
"I suppose," he agrees.
"So then what will it hurt to tell me your name? I don't expect you to reveal your whole name, and life story. A first name would do."
"I could just lie."
"I have spent most of my adult life reading people. I have spent the last month reading you. I know when you're lying."
"My name is Job."
"That is an interesting name."
"This isn't where I cave in, and tell you my life story."
He wakes from a sound sleep. He's fallen asleep on his couch, with the TV on again. He can't seem to find peace in his sleep. He sits up, to turn the TV off, and finds his daughter sitting at the kitchen table. He looks at the watch on his wrist. He slides off the couch, and heads into the kitchen. He pulls over a chair, and sits down next to her.
"Zara, it's almost midnight, what are you doing up, baby?"
"You were screaming, in your sleep. Daddy, are you ok?"
"It was just a bad dream," he insists.
He looks over at her, and realizes that she's coloring a picture. "Zara my screaming woke you up, but why are you coloring a picture?"
"I color pictures for her, all of the time."
"For who, Zara?"
"Olivia."
"Oh," his heart sinks, "Can I see?"
Zara nods. She reveals a picture of two people, clearly herself, and Nick. They both look sad. Above the people she has written, We miss you, in crayon.
"That's very nice. I am sure that she would love it," he tries to stay strong.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Zara?"
"When is Olivia coming home?"
"I don't know, sweetie."
"Where did she go?"
He shrugs, "I wish that I knew, kiddo."
"Did someone take her?"
"Yeah, Zara. Someone took her away from us."
"Is she ever coming home?"
"Zara I think that you should go to bed."
"You were screaming for her, in your sleep."
He scoots out his chair. He rises to his feet, and pulls her chair out. He lifts her off the chair, and carries her into her room. He tucks her into her bed. He takes a seat on the bed, next to her.
"Zara, sometimes in life things happen, that we don't understand. Ok?"
"Ok."
"Now go to sleep," he kisses he on top of the head. He slides off the bed, and heads for the door.
"Wait, daddy!"
He turns, and looks at her, "Yes, Zara?"
"I didn't say my prayers. Will you pray with me?"
"Ok," he agrees returning to be bed.
She closes her eyes, and waits for him to begin. He doesn't say anything. She opens her eyes, and looks at him.
"Daddy, close your eyes. You have to mean it."
"Go ahead," he insists.
"Ok," she nods.
He watches her, in silence, as she prays. When she's finished she opens her eyes, and crawls back under her covers.
"Zara what do you pray for?"
"Lots of things."
"Like what?"
"I pray that Olivia will come home. Don't you?"
She has been in her basement imprisonment, for two months now. She stares at the picture of a sunset, on the calendar, on the wall. She sits on the edge of the cot, in silence, wrapped in her own thoughts, the same as most other nights.
The sound of something hitting the door, outside the room grabs her attention. She looks at the door, waiting for him to come in. She hears another thud, and a scream. The screaming is muffled by the heavy steel door. For the first time, it crosses Olivia's mind that she's not alone. The screaming is followed by a loud pop. Then it stops. The door flies open. He stands in the doorway, and looks at her.
"Come here," he insists.
She steps forward. She slowly, and reluctantly moves to the doorway. He keeps himself between her, and the hallway. She stops at the edge of the room, and looks into the hallway. He points to the body, on the floor.
"That is what happens, when you try to run. Do you understand?"
She simply nods. She stares at the woman lying on the floor, in a puddle of blood, with a bullet in her head.
"As you were," he responds.
She steps away from the door, and he slams it.
He is the first to get a call, early Sunday morning, to a crime scene. He meets Melinda in front of a familiar building. She anticipates his arrival.
"Is..." he begins.
Melinda answers his question, before he can answer it. "It's not Olivia."
"It has to be him, he put the body in front of her building," Fin points out.
Melinda hands Fin a piece of paper, "I know it was him, read the note."
Fin takes the piece of paper from her, and reads it, aloud, "Happy hunting detectives. You'll never find her. Even if her fate is the same."
Melinda doesn't say anything. She just stares at the body, lying on the ground, in front of her. It's not Olivia. She looks over at Fin, and knows that he's thinking the same thing.