Black Pawn

By Mel LeBrun

After witnessing something he wasn't meant to see, Michael Cailen is caught in a real life game of chess where every move could be his last. A former special ops soldier, he uses his training and skills to stay alive and one step ahead of those hunting him.

Jessica Nickoli's life is forever changed when a chance encounter with Michael in a cafe almost leads to her death. Saved by Michael, she must go on the run with him as it becomes clear they intend to kill her now too.

As Michael learns more about Jessica's murky past and questionable career as a computer hacker he begins to wonder if there is more to her than meets the eye. He soon realizes it was not mere coincidence that brought them together. With his own survival now dependent on hers, he will stop at nothing to protect her as they work together to bring down the powerful forces working to kill them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mel LeBrun
• Release date: Jun 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463283769

Mel LeBrun

I started writing in my early teens, mainly for my own entertainment. After getting laid off from work some years back, I found myself with lots of time on my hands and decided to bring to paper a story and characters that have lived in my imagination for many years.I chose to self publish for a few reasons. For one, I want to focus on writing. I'm not out to make a name for myself or get mega rich. If I make enough to get by then I'm content. More would be nice but it's not my main ambition. By self publishing online I can get my work out and then get on with the next piece, which makes me happy.

Book preview

Black Pawn

By Mel LeBrun

Text Copyright © 2013 Mel LeBrun

All Rights Reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Dedicated to my friends and family for all their loving support, encouragement and input.

Chapter 1

It was a quaint little cyber cafe that Jessica frequented once a month. Located in a small town in southeastern Massachusetts, large floor-to-ceiling windows graced the front. Small, round tables and chairs were placed near the windows. Past the tables, on the left was the counter where gourmet coffee was served. Towards the middle of the room and along the back wall were desks with computers. They offered Internet access for a small fee. Jessica took one of the desks towards the middle of the room.

She came to the cafe to chat with a good friend in Russia whose employment was not always on the legal side of the law. As a precaution, they never spoke on their personal computers or communicated in any way that could be easily traced to each other. They set aside time every month to catch up and chat. She was particularly anticipating their conversation when she saw an email from him with pictures from a vacation he had taken. She browsed through the photos thinking of questions to ask him about his trip. She swore he had taken the same trip last year.

Alexander was his name and while he wasn't much to look at, he certainly made up for it in other ways. His dry wit and exuberant personality was in stark contrast to his scrawny form. A sedentary life spent in front of a computer contributed to his lack of muscle tone and pale skin. From the neck up, he would be considered attractive with shimmering blonde hair and ice blue eyes. But when your eyes wandered further south, all they would encounter was a bony figure with sun-deprived pale skin. He was, by all counts, a computer geek who used his skills as a hacker. But their friendship had been forged long before he took up that trade. They met in a gaming forum when she was just 16 and hit it off. He could keep her in stitches with his undying humor. They became fast friends and remarkably, had stayed in touch over the past 10 years.

The dinging of the bell on the door alerted her to an entering customer. It was not usually busy after 10:00 am. Most people had already gotten their coffee and were happily, or miserably, on their way to work. She looked up and couldn't help but stare at the towering figure in the doorway. He was tall and muscular with gently tanned skin, short dark brown hair with just a hint of curl and smoldering brown eyes. He was incredibly handsome. He hadn't shaved in a few days and the look suited him very well. He wore a black, snug-fitting t-shirt that came down just over the waistband of his black cargo pants. Rugged black combat boots finished the look.

She stared in awe, unaware how obvious she was being. He glanced around the cafe and then looked directly at her and smiled, to which she allowed a brief smile to cross her lips before nervously burying herself in the computer in front of her.

He walked to the barista at the counter, ordered a cup of coffee and bought a newspaper. He then strolled to a table off to her side, just barely behind her. She swore she could see him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn't dare turn. Her palms were getting sweaty and she looked at her watch: 11:10 a.m. Where was he? Alex wasn't usually late. In fact, he's usually already online waiting for her.

If she had turned around, she would have seen that the brawny stranger was indeed looking at her. In fact, he chose his seat deliberately so he could admire her long, dark curly hair, the body that was snugly tucked away under clothes that accentuated her five foot, seven inch form, the profile of her delicate face and amber eyes. He mused that in another life, he would have asked for her number. But for now, he would just have to admire. He looked at his watch. Perfect timing. His appointment should be there any minute.

Oblivious to her surroundings, she forced her eyes to stay focused on her computer screen and not wander to the handsome man sitting behind her. So oblivious in fact, she never even registered the dinging of the bell as the door opened or saw the three masked, armed men enter the cafe. Nor did she see the rugged man dive and push her to the ground as shots rang out. Stunned from the jolt of being pushed to the ground and the sound of loud gunshots ringing in her ears, she looked up to see the rugged man returning fire on the three armed bandits. Next thing she knew, she was being dragged behind a half wall partition as the handsome stranger she was so nervous about, crouched next to her, returning fire. Almost as quickly as it started the stranger darted from the cafe and out a back door.

Everything was a blur. She was in shock, still unsure of what was happening. Then, for reasons that eluded her, the tall dark stranger was back, firing at the three gunmen. One took a shot straight through the chest and fell backwards, toppling over a table and chairs. Another took a bullet to the shoulder. The third sought cover behind the counter. The handsome stranger kept firing as he walked quickly towards her.

We have to go! Get up! he barked, grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet.

He pushed her behind him and kept his gun trained on the surviving gunmen's positions as he backed out of the cafe, keeping Jessica behind him. He fired a few more shots when they reached the door, then pushed her towards a black Chevy Tahoe parked in the alley behind the cafe.

Get in! he yelled as he ran to the driver's door.

Instinctively, she did as he said and climbed in the passenger seat. Within seconds, they were tearing out of the alley and speeding down the road. After a few minutes, when he was certain they weren't being followed, he eased up on the gas and dropped it down to the speed limit. The look on his face showed worry and tension.

What just happened? she finally worked up the nerve to ask. Followed quickly by, Who are you? What did they want? We need to call the police...

Quiet! I need to think.

Not knowing who this man was or where he was even taking her, she started to feel that maybe she shouldn't have gotten in his car.

Stop the car and let me out, she demanded, trying her hardest to say it like she meant business.

He ignored her. His mind was racing. Who set him up? How did they find him? More importantly, what was he going to do with the extra baggage he just picked up?

Stop the car now! she yelled. You have to let me out!

No. Be quiet! he snapped.

Demanding wasn't working, she thought. Please let me go, she pleaded. I won't go to the police, just let me go.

I can't. Not yet.

Jessica had not heard one gunman yell out to one of the others, Get the cashier! then the brief scream, followed by a single shot.

Michael had, which is why he came back into the cafe. He knew they weren't going to leave witnesses and he couldn't leave an innocent girl to die. Now, though, he wasn't sure what to do with her. He didn't know how far the people after him would take their no witnesses policy. If he let her go, he might just be signing her death sentence. He had to make sure they weren't going to come after her. In the meantime, the less she knew, the better.

You can't keep me prisoner!

Panic was setting in. She needed to get out of the car before something terrible happened to her. She didn't know this man or why he had taken her, or worse, why he wasn't letting her go. She grabbed the door handle as she prepared to throw herself out of the moving vehicle.

You open that door, and I will put a bullet in your head before you even get one foot out, he hissed.

She let go of the door, cursing herself for getting into his car. Everything happened so fast she just obeyed without even thinking.

Michael glanced at her. She was trembling and in shock. He immediately felt regret over his threatening outburst. He didn't want to scare her, but he needed to control her. He could see she was getting desperate. If she ran off to the authorities or even just went home, she could end up dead. He also couldn't explain the situation to her. If he found she wasn't in any danger, then she could go back to her life, but not if he told her everything. Then she would end up a target like him. She needed to be kept in the dark.

Look, I don't want to hurt you. We can't go to the police. I just need to think things through. Figure out what's going on, he stated in a calming tone. If I intended to hurt you, I would have just left you in the cafe. They didn't want witnesses and they killed the barista. You were next.

His words seemed to take the edge off.

Who were they? What did they want?

He chose not to respond and turned his attention back to driving. They were out of the city now, heading towards the coast. She didn't know where they were going and was afraid to ask. She figured he wouldn't tell her anyway.

She watched as civilization slowly disappeared. They had been driving for 30 minutes. Now on a deserted road, she hadn't seen a house or another car for at least 10 minutes. She could smell the sea air. She had an idea of where they were, but wasn't familiar with any of the back roads he took. The further they drove, the more helpless she felt. Wherever he was taking her, there were sure to be no other people around. Her heart raced.

They stopped at what looked like an old, tiny warehouse. There was a dock right next to it for smaller boats. The place looked rundown in addition to being deserted. Great, she thought, is this where I'll spend my final moments?

Come on, he said as he got out.

He stopped in front of the truck and looked at her through the windshield. She sat frozen, unable to move. She was petrified.

He walked to her door and opened it. Get out!

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her from the truck. He held her firmly as he led her down to a door on the water's side of the tiny building. It looked even worse close up. Rusted and old, it had a pitched metal roof. Short, wide windows ran along the edge of the building just under the roof. It looked as though it should be condemned. The water was calm and lapped at the dock. The sound was soothing, even though the surroundings were grungy.

She struggled in vain to break free from his grip as he unlocked the door. She didn't know what awaited her in that disgusting building. She cried out in distress as the heavy metal door squeaked open. She felt as though she might throw up at any moment.

He was so tall and strong, he easily forced her inside. He must be 6-foot-3, she thought to herself. Her whole body trembled and her heart pounded in her chest as he shut the door behind them. She rapidly assessed her surroundings. There were two sections to the building. The main section looked like the living area. The second section was smaller and had been converted into a bedroom. A small archway only a few steps from the front door joined the two rooms. She could see only a bed and a nightstand.

In the far end of the living area was a bathroom. Next to it were two lockers and a small kitchen area on the right. There was a TV not far from the kitchen along the right wall and a futon sat across from it on the left side of the room. A dining table and two chairs were set up off to the right by the front door. A boiler stood alone in the far left corner. It had all the basic necessities of an apartment without any of the charm. The walls were corrugated metal and she imagined it got cold at night. Remarkably, there was actually water and electricity in the place. It was a bit messy. The bed was unmade, a few dishes were in the sink. Papers were scattered over the table along with newspapers. It was dark and drab, lit only with what little light could filter through the dirty windows. Dingy concrete made up the floor.

Once inside, he released her and she immediately moved away from him. He stood looking at her. There was no hiding the fear she was experiencing.

I'm not going to hurt you, he repeated in a firm yet reassuring tone. His face was virtually devoid of any emotion. Not anger, fear, joy, lust, hate. Nothing. She decided he was either really good at hiding his emotions or a psychopath.

You can watch some TV if you like. The remote is on the futon. He gestured towards it.

She didn't know what to make of his invitation to make herself at home. She walked numbly to the futon and sat down. She didn't want to watch TV. She wanted to go home.

Please let me go, she begged, as a feeling of helplessness crept in.

He could see her trembling from across the room. She was terrified and he was torn between keeping her that way or easing her fears. She would either listen to him out of fear or trust. He didn't have time to build trust. He just needed a day or two to make sure they weren't after her. He felt for her, but he didn't let it show. Couldn't let it show. He needed her obedient as though her life depended on it, for indeed it may.

You can't leave. At least for a few days. It's non-negotiable.

She didn't know what else to say. She couldn't believe this was happening. Her whole body shook as she tried not to let fear and panic take over. No longer able to restrain the urge to cry, she pulled her knees up to her chest and began silently crying into them.

Michael knew how terrified she was and he felt terrible for being the cause of it. He wanted to comfort her, explain everything so she would understand. But he knew he couldn't. He sat in one of the chairs and stared off at a corner of the floor while he tried to gather his thoughts and ignore the quiet weeping in the background.

Chapter 2

What the hell happened, Rick?! The screaming could be heard four offices down the hall. How could you be so stupid?! You sent in only three men! What is wrong with you? shouted a very angry man.

He was of average height and a little heavyset, dressed in a plain suit and drab tie. Clean shaven and almost completely bald with a round face, he looked to be about in his early fifties.

They were our best men, we had the advantage, he didn't know we were coming. It should have been easy ... Rick replied weakly.

Short and thin, Rick was losing his hair, which he blamed on work. What little brown hair he had left was cut very short, so as not to stand out against the growing bald spot on his head.

You sent three men! Three! He leaned forward on the desk and growled, This is Michael Cailen we're talking about. He could have taken out six of your best men with a butter knife and a pair of tweezers for Pete’s sake! He returned to screaming. You only sent three! You didn't even scratch him! His fists pounded the desk. With his face bright red and a large vein on the side of his head bulging through his skin, the man looked like his head might just pop off in rage.

You blew our only chance to get him in THREE YEARS! he raged. He's a ghost! We'll probably never find him again. And how could these guys mess up so bad? Ski masks? Really? Like he couldn't have seen that coming. They might as well of phoned ahead! He threw his hands up.

We're tracking down a possible lead now sir. He can't be far, we'll get him.

Like hell you will. Get out of my sight!

Rick scurried away, thankful for the reprieve. He would be lucky if he didn't end up dead instead of Michael,

The angry man sat at his desk, trying to calm his breathing and regain his composure. He ran his hands over his bald head and then down his weary face. He couldn't believe something so perfect went so wrong. He knew he should have handled it himself. To hell with deniability.

THE POLICE found nothing while combing through the wreckage at the cafe. They had no idea what had taken place there. It was riddled with bullets. There was blood everywhere, but aside from the barista there were no other bodies. There were no traces that anyone else had been there, except for the pools of blood from other apparent victims or perpetrators. DNA on the blood would turn up nothing. The security footage of the cafe had mysteriously disappeared, along with Jessica's personal effects. There was no evidence she was even there. The police were left scratching their heads as to what happened. Gang violence?

Chapter 3

Back in the makeshift apartment/warehouse, Jessica had stopped crying. Get yourself together, she told herself. You need to figure out how to escape. Her eyes slowly panned the room looking for anything that could be a way out or aid in her escape. The windows were too high; they were just below the rooftop. She would never get up there, and if she did, she would probably hurt herself falling on the other side. There wasn't much there she could use, just a few kitchen knives by the sink. She thought if she could grab one, she might be able to surprise her captor. She got the impression though that he could easily disarm her if she tried that. This man had combat experience, she thought. Maybe ex-military.

As her eyes kept searching the room, she hadn't noticed Michael was watching her. He could see the determined look on her face and knew she would try to escape. He knew he would have no choice but to restrain her. He wasn't happy about it. He didn't like terrorizing women, but it was for her own good, he reminded himself.

I know what you're thinking. His voice shattered the silence.

Her eyes darted to where he was sitting and she realized he had been watching her. The calm determination she was just feeling was now replaced by fear, as she wondered what he was going to do.

If you try to escape, two things will happen. Well, three things. One, you will fail. Two, I will handcuff you to that pipe behind you. Three, I will be very unhappy.

His demeanor never changed. His voice was calm. His face showed no emotion. She wondered, if escaping would make him unhappy, then what was he feeling now?

I want to go home, she pleaded.

I know. He turned away.

After several minutes of silence, she came up with a plan. I'm hungry. She hoped maybe he didn't have food and that he would have to leave to get some.

I can cook you some eggs.

I want Chinese. She tried to think of something he wouldn't have.

You're pretty demanding.

It's the least you can do, she spoke with an air of contempt.

Michael sighed. Fine. You're staying here though. The door locks from the outside and there's no other way out. Don't do anything stupid, he warned.

I won't, she lied.

He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. She heard him lock it from the outside. She followed the sound of his footsteps and the truck door shutting. The truck started and she listened as it drove away.

The window was her only hope now. She moved the table over to the wall underneath one of the windows. She put one of the chairs on the table and gingerly climbed up the precarious ladder she just made. She was just barely able to reach the edge of the window. She prayed it would open. It didn't. It was jammed shut. She repeated this process under another window, then another. Crawling through broken glass would be a last resort. She was starting to get desperate when the next window creaked open. Thank God, she thought. While she had been worried about how she would get down the other side, she decided even a broken leg would be better than being a prisoner. She pulled with all her might until she was half out the window. Then she brought one leg up and pushed it out, followed by her other leg. She was now on the other side of the window hanging onto the edge. She looked down at the ground below and was so thankful it was grass and not concrete. On the count of three, she let go and dropped to the ground below. Pain shot through her left ankle as she hit the ground. She stood quickly; the pain was bad, but not unbearable. She began hobbling towards the road. As she rounded the corner of the building, to her horror, there was Michael casually leaning up against the side. He hadn't really left. He had parked up the road and walked back on foot, knowing full well she would try to escape.

What did I tell you? he asked calmly.

She turned to run, but was in his strong grip before she could take two steps. She screamed and kicked as he dragged her back to the rusty metal door.

I'm warning you. Stop! he snarled.

She only fought harder until suddenly she saw a flash of light and everything seemed to be spinning around her. She was dazed. He had hit her! She heard the squeak of the metal door and felt herself being carried inside. As they moved towards the futon and the pipe on the wall she remembered what he said earlier and started to struggle against his grip. If he handcuffed her to that pipe, she was doomed. Her ankle was throbbing and now her head hurt, but she still screamed and fought to get away from him. She was just no match for him. Within seconds, it was over. She was handcuffed to the pipe, just like he said.

Exhausted, angry and terrified, she started to cry. Michael walked into the bedroom, sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. He felt terrible about what just happened. He relived the day's events, trying to decide if there was anything he could have done differently. He concluded there wasn't. He couldn't have left her to die in the cafe or let her go without knowing she would be safe. If she died, it would be his fault. They were after him and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He couldn't let her die for that. It was bad enough the barista was killed.

He came out of the bedroom and walked toward the fridge. He opened the freezer, grabbed a couple of ice packs and then picked a bag up off the floor as he walked towards her on the futon. He set one of the dining chairs in front of her and sat down.

You hurt yourself when you jumped. Where does it hurt?

Screw you! She angrily shouted back at him.

He ignored her attitude. Is it your ankle, leg, foot, knee?

The back of my head, she snapped.

He sighed and looked down. For a second, she thought he looked sorry. He looked back up at her. Where are you hurt?

My ankle, she squeezed out through clenched teeth.

I just want to make sure it's not broken. I've had some medical training. Will you let me take a look at it?

If it'll make you happy, she said with a tone that made Michael wish he had left her back at the cafe.

He unlaced her sneaker and gently slid it off. She winced in pain as he did. He pulled off her sock and gingerly examined her ankle. I think it's just a sprain. I'll wrap it up and you keep the ice on it.

He pulled a bandage from the bag and proceeded to wrap her ankle with it, then placed one of the ice packs on it. He gave her the other pack to hold against the knot growing on the back of her head. Do you want something for the pain? I have the good stuff.

What do you mean, 'the good stuff’?

Morphine and Vicodin. Although I think morphine might be overkill.

What are you, a hospital? she replied snidely.

No, but I tend to get injured a lot. If you're gonna be snotty about it, I don't have to give you anything.

Vicodin is fine, she said without the attitude.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle, like you would see in the pharmacy behind the counter. He showed it to her so she could see what he was giving her.

What did you do, rob a pharmacy? she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Yes. He opened the bottle and handed her a pill.

She was a tad stunned at his admission.

As he brought her a glass of water, she couldn't help thinking what a mystery this man was. One minute he's saving her life, the next he's kidnapping her. He treats her like a guest in his place, if you want to call it that, then cuffs her to a pipe. One moment he's hitting her in the head, and the next he's bandaging her ankle and giving her pain killers. She couldn't make heads or tails of him. She took the glass of water and downed the Vicodin.

He took the empty glass from her hand. What's your name?

She didn't really want to answer him. She didn't trust him and still wasn't sure what exactly he wanted with her.

My name is Michael. What's yours? he asked again.

Jessica, she reluctantly responded.

Jessica what?

Rollings, she lied. She wasn't about to tell him her real name.

Jessica Rollings? he repeated with a raised eyebrow. He could tell she was lying. She was terrible at it. Well Jessica Rollings, where do you live?

On Benton Street, not far from the cafe. Another lie.

Well, in a few days you should be back home, Jessica, he also lied. He had no idea if she would be able to go home. He had to find out where she really lived and it was clear she wasn't going to tell him. He'd have to find out another way.

He stood up. Do you still want Chinese? he asked with a condescending smile.

She clenched her jaw and turned away, frustrated that he had played her.

I warned you. He walked towards the door. I'll be back in about an hour. Stay put, he said sarcastically.

After he left, she cursed at herself. She had underestimated him. The Vicodin started to kick in and she felt tired. She wasn't in a very comfortable position. The pipe ran behind the futon, so her arm was stuck high up on the back of it. It was impossible to lie down and difficult to find even a comfortable sitting position. Especially while still trying to hold the ice pack to her head. She was tired though and leaned her head on the back of the futon. She closed her eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

When she came to, Michael was already back, eating the Chinese food he had brought with him. She managed to sleep through the squeaky metal door opening and shutting as well as Michael putting the table and chair back in place. The drugs must have really put her out of it, she thought. He heard her stir and without even looking, asked if she was hungry.

Yeah, she replied.

He grabbed an empty plate from the table, filled it with food and placed a fork on it. If this food ends up anywhere but your mouth, you will not be offered any other food while you're here. Are we clear?

Yes. I'm a little old to be playing with my food.

His tone irritated her. He had an arrogant and domineering way about him.

He placed the plate in her lap and went back to his meal on the table. She was starving. She hadn't had anything but coffee in the morning and with all the shooting and kidnapping, she missed lunch. She looked at her watch; it was almost 5:00 p.m. Where had the time gone? She ate everything on her plate and asked for a glass of water. Michael had already finished eating and put away the leftovers. He sat next to her on the futon and turned on the TV. She felt strange sitting on the futon, watching TV with her kidnapper.

So ... how long have you lived here? she asked, trying to make small talk. Thinking maybe if she could gain his trust, he might let her go.

He didn't answer her. Didn't even acknowledge the question or that she had even spoken.

Do you have a family? Are you from around here? she continued, undeterred by his stony demeanor.

Quiet, he snapped as he turned up the volume on the TV and leaned forward. The news had just come on.

Our top story tonight. Police are looking for the public's help in investigating a shooting at a local cafe that's left at least one dead and possibly others injured. Our lead investigator, Matthew Sykes, has more on the story.

Thanks Sheila. Police still don't know what happened at the Coffee Bytes cafe. At around 11:10 a.m., the police started receiving reports of shots fired in the area. That's apparently when the gunfight broke out in this small cafe. There appear to be no witnesses and it's still unknown who was involved in the shooting or what the possible motive was. The only known fatality is Cara Rice. She was the only employee who was working at the time the incident occurred. Police say it appears as though more were severely injured, but fled the scene. Police are asking anyone that has information about this incident to contact them immediately. We'll have more on this story as it becomes available. Back to you, Sheila.

Thanks, Matthew. We'll be watching this story closely, so stay tuned to Channel 10 Eyewitness News for updates.

Michael lowered the volume and leaned back still staring at the TV. Jessica too was staring at the TV. The sight of the destroyed cafe and hearing about the dead employee just made everything too real.

Why aren't they looking for me? she asked in a daze, not even realizing she asked it out loud.

What? Michael turned to look at her.

Why aren't they looking for me? She turned to him, visibly distressed. My purse, phone, car. All at the cafe. Why aren't they looking for me?

The police don't tell the press everything. They're probably holding back that information while they look for you, he replied calmly, like he believed it. He didn't though. He had a bad feeling he knew why they didn't mention her in the news. Her purse, phone, keys and car were gone before the police ever arrived. They weren't meant to be looking for her. He figured the security footage was toast as well. No one would ever see what really happened there.

Jessica thought about it and decided Michael's explanation made sense. They must be keeping it quiet until they find her. Surely they would have seen the security footage and knew she was there.

He suddenly stood up. I have to go out. Won't be back for a while. Do you need anything before I go?

Could I use the bathroom?

He uncuffed her and pointed to the bathroom. She rubbed her wrist and took her time hobbling across the floor. She was in no hurry to be cuffed to the pipe again. When she came out of the bathroom, she saw he had pulled out the futon into a bed. There was a pillow and blanket on it.

What are you doing? she asked, leery of his intentions.

Relax. I just figured you would be more comfortable if you could lie down. There's a pillow and blanket in case you get cold. I might not be back until the middle of the night.

Where are you going?

Do you need anything else? he asked, ignoring her question.

You could let me go.

Come on. He gestured toward the handcuffs.

Knowing she didn't have much of a choice, she let him cuff her, nervous about what he might do once she was restrained. To her relief he just grabbed his jacket and left. It was more comfortable now that she could lie down. He left the remote on the futon for her. That was thoughtful, she mused. She felt silly for feeling grateful for that. On the table next to the futon sat another Vicodin pill and a glass of water. For a man who was so gruff and cold, he sure was thoughtful, she thought.

The TV served as a good temporary distraction until fatigue took over. Around 2:30 a.m., her eyes became heavy and she turned off the TV. It was a mistake. The silence was frightening. She started thinking she would have felt safer if Michael were there. With no way to defend herself, she felt vulnerable cuffed to the pipe. Wild thoughts ran through her mind and suddenly she was wide awake again. Her heart raced. She felt as though she was going to have a panic attack. Every sound outside seemed so loud. She could hear the water lapping at the dock. Were there footsteps? No. Just then, she heard a car in the distance. It was getting closer. Was it Michael? Maybe it was someone coming to rescue her. Maybe it was someone worse.

Her heart was pounding as the door unlocked. It must be Michael. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep as he walked in. She heard his footsteps as he approached her. What was he doing? Too scared to open her eyes, she felt his fingers touch her wrist.

Why are you so scared? he asked. Did something happen?

She wanted to answer, but couldn't find her voice. How did he know? She looked up, his silhouette in the moonlight hovering over her. Still holding her wrist, she realized he was checking her pulse. She pulled her arm away.

Get some sleep. Everything's fine, he said calmly.

He retreated to his bedroom and she imagined he'd have no trouble getting to sleep. She on the other hand, wasn't sure she would ever sleep. Although knowing he was there made her feel oddly safer. After a few minutes, she was more relaxed and her eyes became heavy.

She awoke to a sharp pinch in her arm, but within seconds felt like she was dreaming again.

Making sure she never saw the syringe, Michael held her face and looked into her eyes. Jessica ... Jessica, can you hear me?

Yes, I hear you, she mumbled.

He checked her pulse again. What's your name?

Jessica.

Your last name.

Nickoli, she answered in her foggy, dream-like state.

Where do you live, Jessica?

92 Carter Road, Apartment 6.

Do you live with anyone?

No.

Do you have family?

No.

Boyfriend?

No. Her eyes closed.

Jessica, wake up. He lightly tapped her face.

Huh? Her eyes opened.

Where do you work?

Home. I work for myself, she drifted off.

That was all he needed to know. The rest he could find on his own. He had drugged people many times to extract information. It was one of the easiest ways to get someone to talk. Having received interrogation training from the military, he knew all the tricks of the trade. He waited for her to fall asleep before drugging her though. Drugging her while she was fully awake and aware of what was happening would've been too traumatic for her. She was so out of it, there was a good chance she would never remember telling him anything. He let her drift back to sleep, then crawled into bed himself. With a lot of work to do tomorrow, he needed a few hours of sleep.

Chapter 4

Jessica woke to the smell of coffee brewing. I must be a heavy sleeper, she thought, since it seemed nothing Michael did woke her. He was sitting at the table reading the paper. Was that today's paper? How did he leave and come back without waking her?

Good morning, he greeted her without taking his eyes off the paper.

How did you know I was awake?

Your breathing changes.

She wondered how loud her breathing must be for him to notice. The beeper went off on the