A flash of headlights and a flare of red area all he sees as he goes down. He hears a door slam. Two voices. And then he sees the blood pouring over the pavement. His blood.
A shoe comes next to face and a hand grabs his shirt. Then it all goes black.
"And there are still no leads in the kidnapping case of Dr. Cal Lightman, although his involvement with the FBI has been suspected to have contributed with his kidnapping. Dr. Lightman's agency, The Lightman Group, is currently shut down all operations that do not involve the location of Dr. Lightman. If you have any information regarding the case please call_" The news reporter's voice died as Gillian slammed on the button form the remote, cutting the phone number off before it even gets started.
"Get the Head of the Department in here; I need to talk with him, Reynolds." Gillian turned away from the fading TV screen. "Torres, get all the violent case files out of the cabinet, and get started. Don't waste time on ones you know it isn't."
Flashing a glance at Torres, who didn't bother to return it after seeing the expression on Foster's face, Reynolds turned and left, heading down to the front hallway of The Lightman Group building, pulling out his radio and cell phone on the way there.
"Do the police have any suspicion as to who it might be?" Torres asked Foster, speaking carefully.
"No. As you can tell, they think it has to do with our work here; I agree." Foster let out a breath and pushed her hands to her face, "That's the only idea we've got. Just go. And don't waste times on the ones in jail!"
Torres left, knowing that even if-when they got Lightman back, she would remember that expression on Gillian's face forever. The unfiltered expression she couldn't even begin to hide.
Cal Lightman was in a car. That much he knew. Aside from that, he knew nothing. He couldn't see, or breathe through his mouth which was tied with a gag that tasted like dirt and beer. Actually, he did know one thing. He had been hit by the same car he was riding in. He had been kidnapped. At least two of his ribs were fractured, he could feel them starting to convulse in pain as he regained slight consciousness. His head throbbed with his abdomen, making the backseat of this vehicle the one place he really didn't want to be.
He tried to remember what had happened, what was happening. Anything that might be remotely helpful in his situation, but his mind could come up with nothing but a shoe, and blood. Lots of blood. He listened, his ears being one of the only two senses that were any use to him now, but all he heard was the smooth hum of the car driving over the road.
Then he felt something. Something wet was dried to his chest. He inhaled carefully, making sure not to give away that he was awake, and could smell the salty tang of blood that seemed to be all over his chest.
Emily Lightman pulled out her cell phones and opened her Facebook page. She had it rigged to get automatic message updates on anything regarding the case. There was one new message in her inbox.
"A new break has been made in the Lightman Kidnapping case: Dr. Cal Lightman's cell phone was recovered on 7th avenue near a huge stain that the local investigators have identified as Dr. Lightman's blood. The cell phone looked smashed, and is being currently examined for fingerprints that may give police any leads." The message was exactly 37 seconds old, and Emily knew from being around here enough that fingerprint matching, if there were any to match, could take hours.
She sighed in frustration and flopped none-to-gracefully into the only chair in her dad's office. She spun around about four times, watching the world blur, until she felt her phone buzz, and "Just a Dream" play, telling her she had a text message.
She flipped it open. It was her friend Shelby, sending her a message that said they had all started up a prayer tree, and that everyone in their class, and pretty much everyone in the D.C. area was hoping her dad made it home. She appreciated it, but couldn't force herself to reply. Instead she watched Loker and Torres come by the room, yelling at each other. They stopped, not noticing her and they yelled about something that Emily couldn't quite hear through the glass, but it had something to do with the file in Ria's hand, because Loker kept trying to grab it out of her hand.
She just stared at them, not knowing what to feel, and she only caught bits of what they were saying. "Lightman!" "Foster!" And "Rights!" were about all she could hear, and both of them were using them a lot. She knew that they were just upset because of what was going on, but they were driving her insane.
Running up from the chair, she swung the door in, just catching the end of Torres' sentence before they saw her. "He could be dead, Loker!"
Emily had never wanted to hit someone more than in that moment.