No Stone Unturned

Trager urged Abel to grab some clothes and check into a hotel for the night while the forensics teams sifted through his and Albert’s apartments. Neither of them held out much hope they would be able to find anything in either place.

Getting his shit together, he drove to the Capitol Skyline Hotel on 10 I St. SW. Rooms were decent, cheap. Tossing his belongings on the first of the two double beds in the room, he clicked on the TV. He wanted white noise to quiet the maelstrom of shit in his head. There were too many questions, not the least of which was Gil’s location. Now Albert was MIA. Add to that the bullshit game Lily was playing with him, taunting him.

The failure to find Gil and the disappearance of Albert made Abel’s sleep fitful, shallow and dreamless. Climbing out of bed a few hours prior to sunup, without appropriate gear, he decided to forego his usual run, grabbing a quick shower instead before heading into the office early.

Hunkering down at his desk, he checked his computer. There were no new developments or updates on Gil’s case. Eyeing Gil’s stack of files, fingers strumming on the desktop, what was it about each of the cases there that made Gil think they were not only connected, but also perpetrated by the same person? It all seemed so completely random. There had to be something, some key he was missing. Three cups of coffee and a few hours later, he was no closer to unraveling the thread. Slamming closed the file folder, the word Lamia taunted him. Lamia. He googled it again, sifting through the information there. Why would Gil write this word? What did it mean to the case?

Checking his watch, the time was still a little early with Penny having yet to arrive. Typing Georgetown University into the computer, he got the contact number from the website and dialed it. After identifying himself and stating he was looking for some information on mythological creatures, the woman on the other end of the phone re-directed his call to an associate professor named Archibald Danforth.

After two rings, “Good morning, this is Professor Danforth,” answered a mildly accented male voice, giving Abel the impression of slender bespectacled man with white hair and a rumpled tweed suit.

“Professor, hi, my name is special agent Abel Stafford with the FBI. I have a couple of questions I’m looking to get some clarification on and was wondering if you might have a moment for me?” he inquired.

“Oh my, is this for a case?” queried the professor.

“Depending on what you’re able to tell me, it may hold some value,” Abel replied.

“Of course, of course, this is all very exciting how may I assist you agent Stafford?” invited the scholar.

“What can you tell me about Lamia?” Abel asked, direct and to the point.

“Oho, lamia, yes of course, well this is really rather quite a fascinating topic for discussion,” Professor Danforth replied jubilantly.

Book nerd lit up in Abel’s brain. “I did Google the subject before calling you, so maybe just give me the Coles’ notes version in the interest of brevity,” he suggested.

“Although a mythological archetype, the name Lamia derives from Greek wherein she was said to be a beautiful queen of Libya who was a mistress of Zeus. When Zeus’ wife Hera learned of the infidelity, the goddess cursed the queen and stole her children. In her torment, Lamia becomes a monster and steals others’ children, devouring them. As an archetype, there are earlier references to similar personifications of a similar sort, Abyzou, Lilith,” he stated.

“Hold up, wait, Lilith, Lily?” Abel questioned.

“Commonly identified as Adam’s first wife in Jewish mythology, she is actually derived from a class of female demon referenced as lilitu dating back to ancient Mesopotamia including the Sumerian, Akkadian, and Babylonian empires. In each of the incarnations, she also appears as a child-devouring monster, though the more ancient references are unfortunately obscure and lack support,” lamented the educator.

“So, like, what, a few thousand years ago kind of thing?” asked the FBI special agent.

“Quite, the earliest examples of pictographic script occur in this area during the Uruk IV period approximately four millennia BC. Fascinating enough, seven tablets recovered from the temple É dedicated to the goddess Inanna, but the subtleties are outside my area of expertise,” he explained apologetically.

While the good professor demonstrated a fair degree of zeal for the topic, Abel was less fervent. “I see,” he replied with a slight nod. What in the hell did this have anything to do with the case? Where was the old man going with this? What about the dream, the sequence where the giant woman swallowed Gil? Could it possibly be related to the ancient mumbo jumbo?

“There is however a young master’s candidate currently in my charge whose particular area of study parallels your line of inquiry. She might be able to better assist you,” he offered.

Was it worth it to get a better handle on it? Gil had written the word and circled it, why? Couldn’t hurt. “Sure, why not?” Abel answered, providing contact information.

“Positively smashing, I shall forward this along forthwith and post haste,” replied the professor.

Exchanging pleasantries and contact information with the good professor, Abel hung up the phone just as Penny appeared in the doorway, her arms burdened by the stack of cumbersome case files.

“Any word on special agent Caine?” she inquired, smiling hopefully.

Frown appearing on his face, Abel shook his head, “Nothing. No admissions to any area hospitals of anyone matching Gil’s description, nothing in the morgue that matches. It is like he vanished into nothingness,” he answered glumly.

“You were on the phone just now, a lead of some type?” she questioned, nodding at it.

Looking down at it, he shrugged, “Nothing really, maybe, I don’t know,” he replied.

Entering the doorway to his office, “Did we get a copy of the profile for the subject?” she asked.

Letting out a breath, “Not officially as you and I are not specifically assigned to the case, but yes we have a profile, pretty standard DSM-5 description of an antisocial personality disorder with elements of narcissism. Although calling themselves Lily does not discount the possibility this may be a transgendered individual presenting as female but suffering from a borderline personality or oppositional defiance disorder. Likely working alone. Blah, blah, blah,” he answered, shaking his head slightly and rolling his eyes.

“I see,” she replied, pursing her lips.

“Did you find anything in those? Some unifying link that will let us unravel the mystery?” he asked, glancing at the wealth of folders she was carrying.

“I’m still going through them, but nothing so far really stands out that I think binds them together,” she responded apologetically, offering him a shrug. “I could reach?”

Abel shook his head, “We start trying to make things fit the theory and we’re screwed. Just an FYI, there was another disappearance last night,” he said.

“What? Who?”

“Albert Kinney, my next door neighbor. I asked him to keep an eye on my place and now he is gone. Forensics is looking for clues in his place and mine but I’m not holding my breath,” he provided, shaking his head slightly.

“She contact you again?” Penny asked, tilting her head to the side.

He chuckled, “To tell me she was in my apartment masturbating on my bed.”

Penny scowled in disapproval, “Classy girl. Why do you think she is targeting you?”

Abel smiled and chuckled softly, “My rapier wit and roguish charm,” he supplied, giving her a wink.

Chuckling, Penny shook her head.

“You should take those to your office before your arms fall off,” he encouraged, pointing at the burden she carried.

Nodding, she left his office.

His cell phone started to ring. Not recognizing the number, he swiped the icon and put it up to his ear, “Stafford.”