Lucky glanced around Elizabeth's bedroom briefly before entering. The sight of the bloody sheets made his stomach turn and he felt that he would be sick again. He had felt that way a lot since first discovering Elizabeth was gone. He remembered when he had said goodnight to Elizabeth in this very room two nights before. He remembered the way they had held each other a little longer than usual before he left. He had not wanted to leave her alone, or to leave her at all. He had wanted to stay with her, but she had insisted that she would be all right there alone. He wondered how long it was after he left before Tom came through her window, and if he had been lurking outside the whole time he was there, just waiting for him to leave. God, how he wished he could take that night back and change the outcome. He could not forgive himself for leaving her.
He walked around the room, slowly, unable to focus on much of anything, his eyes not wanting to see the blood or the signs of her obviously painful struggle. He glanced toward the window and could picture Elizabeth hearing the window open, and thinking it was him coming back to stay with her. He could imagine the horror she must have felt when she realized it was not him, but Tom. He could imagine how terrified she must have been, thinking this can not be happening again. Oh, God, what if he had raped her again? He realized he had not allowed himself to think of that possibility before now. The thought of it was just too horrible.
He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room, running his hands through his hair, resting the heels of his hands on his forehead. Luke, who had been watching him, remaining silent, finally spoke. "Lucky, what is it?"
He looked at Luke with horror in his eyes and there was desperation in his voice. "Dad, what if he raped her again? What if he made her go through that horrible ordeal again? Oh, God, I can't bear the thought of that." He felt himself breaking out in a cold sweat, his stomach roiling.
Taggert put his hand on Lucky's shoulder. "We can only pray that he hasn't done that, Lucky."
The thought of Elizabeth being raped again made him run to the bathroom, certain he would be sick this time, but he realized his stomach was empty. Had he even eaten in the past two days? He didn't think so. How could he think of eating when Elizabeth was out there, with Tom, scared and hurt, and expecting him to find her, to save her.
Instead of getting sick, he splashed cold water on his face and rested his hands on the sink, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He became aware of a familiar scent permeating his senses. What was it? It was a clean, fresh scent, so familiar. His memory took him back to the night in New York City, when they had almost made love. They were standing at the window in their room, looking down over what Elizabeth had called "our neighborhood". They were so happy that night, so full of hope and love and plans for the future. He had never felt so content as he had that night. He remembered standing behind her, his arms around her waist, his face in her hair, breathing in the sweet, clean scent of her. That was it, that was the scent in the room and looking toward the shower, he realized it was her shampoo that he was smelling..
He could barely breathe for the fear he felt for her now. He didn't even know if she was still alive but the alternative was just too unthinkable. He splashed cold water on his face again, then turned to leave the bathroom. As he turned the knob, he saw the blouse Elizabeth had been wearing the night she had been taken was hanging on the back of the door. He lifted it carefully from the hook and held it tenderly in his hands, finally turning to lean his back against the door as he covered his face with it, weeping into it as he slid to the floor.