Chapter 3

Week one, Day two, Sunday

As usual, I was up and about soon after dawn broke. Sure looked like it was gonna be another lovely day. I backed the truck into the barn so she couldn’t see it and be able to describe it, then I did a couple of hours just enjoying being alive with a little yard work thrown in, before looking in on my prisoner through the spyhole. She was still lying on the mattress; I was pretty sure from her posture that she was awake even if she wasn’t moving about. With no windows and constant artificial light, she’d have quickly lost her natural sense of time. I presumed that she had slept some, not that it would worry me in the slightest if she hadn’t, but it was now breakfast time, she was in my power, and I did have an obligation to feed her.

It was still too early in the year and too warm outside to want to have a fire burning in the chimney. Without a fire, I couldn’t make toast. Yeah, I’d looked at buying a twelve-volt toaster, but it would be pulling at least thirteen amps and that was a little on the high side for my DC system and wiring. You don’t want to be draining the current too quick, it doesn’t help battery life to discharge too deep or too many cycles. Same reason I hadn’t bought a 12V DC electric kettle or electric frypan, even though in theory I could also have used them off of the truck electrics, with the alternator running to supply the necessary juice. I was intending to treat myself to a 12V crock pot come the winter; it drew a little less, and I might even be able to afford some more batteries to bolster the bank’s capacity.

Of course, when Miss Gregson’s ransom came through, I could probably go the whole hog and connect up to the electric grid if I wished – assuming the lawyers had left me enough money after I’d gotten my Aggie back.

I’d gotten used to buying pre-packed toast crackers from the store instead of real bread; they just about work as an alternative if you don’t mind them being so dry and brittle. They don’t go stale or moldy on you like bread does if you have to keep if outside a refrigerator for more than a couple of days. I opened a fresh pack of eight slices for her, and put ham, sliced cheese, chocolate spread and jelly each on two slices. If she didn’t like the choice, that was tough. An apple, a banana and a mug of coffee completed her breakfast. I knew I’d have to watch the mug; it was a potential weapon. My bad for forgetting to pick up some more paper cups.

I took the food into her, was cursed for my trouble, locked her door again, and then ate my own breakfast before making a final inspection outside.

One thing the guys at the insurgent holding center had kept repeating to us: keep checking the surroundings by examining them as if YOU wanted to escape or hurt your guards. In other words, look at it from the bad guy’s point of view. Earlier, I’d walked the path we’d be taking, removed a couple of fallen branches that might possibly trip me up if I was looking at her rather than where I was stepping, and satisfied myself that it was as clear as I could make it. I’d smoothed the ground out a couple of months back when I’d driven the small digger down to improve the bathing hole, and the hours I’d worked with the gasoline string trimmer the previous week had paid off; there was a clear and obvious path wide enough for two to walk.

I went to fetch her, pulling on the ski mask before I unlocked her door and went in, keeping a very close eye on her and her body language, staying at a distance from her. I did notice that she’d cleared the breakfast tray, that was a good sign. I kept in mind that I could not trust her even the tiniest bit; she had absolutely no reason to co-operate with me. She almost certainly hated my guts and would hurt me or kill me if she got the slightest chance. I surely would if I was her.

“Miss Gregson, you need to be able to wash your hair, so I’m going to let you bathe today. Please remember that this is a favor I’m granting you, and it would be a darn sight easier for me to keep you using a bucket and a washcloth. If you mess me about or try to escape, then we shan’t do this again, so I’d suggest you behave yourself.”

I could almost see her arguing with herself; as I suspected it would, the female wish to be clean again won out over the immediate urge to escape. This girl wasn’t stupid; she knew darn well that she was also getting a free pass to see what lay outside her prison room, and I guess she hoped that it would improve her chances of getting away from me later.

“Okay, I do need a bath. I suppose you haven’t got any decent quality soap or shampoo?”

The contempt and disdain was back in her voice. Okay, I could do that too. I picked up her breakfast tray and the mug, backed out of the door, and returned with the prepared cloth bag, showing it to her.

“None of your designer brands, sweetie. Just plain ordinary basic stuff like us plain ordinary basic people use. Soap, shampoo, wash cloths, towels, another clean shirt and shorts. You’ll be carrying this bag in both arms. Keep to the path unless you like getting in poison oak. I’ve got the ether pad in my pocket, and you really don’t want to go through that vomiting stuff again, so don’t try to get away from me. Got that?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

I grinned at her attempt to be rude without actually crossing the line. The girl hadn’t folded, and was still looking for opportunities. I hoped she was going to be a worthwhile adversary – if she’d just been a whining princess wasting valuable natural resources like oxygen, I’d already have been contemplating digging a nice deep hole with my shovel. Wouldn’t have taken me all that long; the dirt was fairly easy going away from the tree roots, and I’m not boasting when I say that my technique is pretty near perfect. I get enough practice.

Fortunately for her, she’d shown enough spirit the previous evening to be interesting. I’d have hated to have gone to all the trouble of building a secure pen for her, and then had to snuff her almost as soon as I’d got her because she was all trouble and no fun.

“Okay, come on out.”

She picked up the bag as she reached the door, came through the opening then looked around her at the big room, seeing it for the first time. She’d been covered by the blanket on our way through the previous morning.

“What is this place? A cabin?”

“Yeah, I could hardly keep a beauty like you captive in the trailer park singlewide, could I, sweetie? There’d be too many other poor white trash guys wanting a piece of you once word got around that there was a hottie about!”

She missed my sarcasm. I’m not sure that she even heard my comment, engrossed as she was in looking around my humble abode. I guessed that she’d probably never seen a normal cabin in real life, maybe some slave cabins in those historical dramas on cable or one of those living museum places, but otherwise the closest she’d have been was most likely some upmarket ‘vacation cottage’ with all the townie facilities like hot tub and sauna. She’d probably never been to a trailer park either, and wouldn’t have believed me if I’d told her that most park residents are decent and sociable people. She would just assume they were poor white trash. That was probably what her entire life experience was like – the society people she mixed with, and the rest of us she’d never encountered.

Like I said, I had removed all the likely obstacles and possible weapons; there was a clear path to the outside, and I wanted to keep her moving.

“Walk on, turn left out of the door.”

She walked ahead of me, following my instructions, to the trimmed path and then kept going. The swimming hole is only sixty yards from the cabin, but the trees and undergrowth kept the creek hidden until she was almost on it. She stopped and turned round, angry and screaming at me. She clearly hadn’t expected this.

“No way! No fucking way! I am so NOT skinny dipping in a creek. You just want to get me naked and watch so you can jerk off, dickless. You’re a fucking pervert!”

I laughed.

“Have you never been to a beach and wrapped a towel around you to change your clothes? The water is plenty deep to get under so you aren’t showing anything. Sweetie, I’d have thought a college party girl like you would be jumping at the chance to flaunt your body and tease me!”

She didn’t like that answer, and started ranting again. I cut her short.

“Woah there! Your hair still stinks of puke. Do you want to bathe or not? Make your fucking mind up!”

She emptied the bag on the ground and picked up the bath towel. Glaring at me, she wrapped it round her and pulled off the sweats. Stepping into the water, she carefully lifted the towel so it didn’t get wet, then, reaching behind so all I saw was her back, she placed the towel on the edge of the bank, where she could reach it from the water. She’d done it well; I’d hardly seen anything of her best assets. Her back and shoulders were still worth watching; she was nicely put together. No trace of puppy fat, despite her tender years, physically she was a young woman, not a girl.

“Jeez, this is fucking cold!”

Okay, so it wasn’t a heated pool, but this time of year it certainly wasn’t too bad. Back in December / January, when I’d been doing a little work on it while I decided the best way to tell Kasey and Aggie that I’d bought them a weekend cabin to enjoy, the creek water had been cold. That had been part of the reason for not wanting to tell them until after I had gotten back from Iraq; Aggie would have wanted to try the water out, and would have been very disappointed.

“You’ll get used to it. It’s gonna be a whole lot worse come winter. You’d better hope your rich daddy pays up before the colder weather begins.”

“Redneck dickhead!”

I grinned.

“You know, I used to dream of this swimming hole when I was in the sandbox and the water supply was pretty limited much of the time. As much cool fresh water as I wanted, all to myself.”

“Asshole!”

She squeaked as she went deeper, and looked annoyed with herself for showing a sign of weakness. I could still just about tell from the way she held herself that she was actually real pleased to be in fresh clean water, to have the chance to wash away the last traces of her ether-induced vomit, even if she’d have much preferred a shower with unlimited hot water, like she was used to at home, and not to be observed.

I stepped back to give her a little more privacy. Even if she tried to run off now, the vegetation was thick enough to obstruct her until I could grab her again, and the obvious poison oak and the variety of brambles and thorns on offer would hopefully dissuade her from making a naked dash for freedom. She was bright enough to have realized that she had no idea where she was and in which direction she should run.

She sure took her time. Maybe the water wasn’t as cold as she’d first thought, or maybe she was just trying to stress me out waiting on her to finish. Perhaps that third washing of her hair was indeed necessary to get the last of the vomit smell out of it. I guess the private-label shampoo wasn’t her usual over-priced salon brand, and there was no conditioner. I liked the light-brown color of her hair; it suited her, and she had looked real good in the newspaper photo. Now, with it wet and tangled, maybe not so good. I’d put a comb in the bag, so at least she’d be able to get the worst of the tangles out. I hadn’t gotten her a mirror, maybe I should look at doing that. Polished metal though, no glass that she could break to make a pointed weapon.

She made a real performance of reaching behind her for the towel without showing me her tits, getting out of the water, drying off, and putting on the clean shorts and shirt. I stayed well back, showing no great interest in admiring her charms, and eventually she just got on with it. The shorts were again way too large, but they did the job of covering her. I told her to repack the bag and then retrace her steps to the cabin.

As I’d thought she’d very likely do, when we got more out in the open and closer to the front of the cabin, she threw the bag at my head and ran for the gap in the trees that was the driveway as I ducked away from the missile. Even having to hang on to her baggy shorts she was fast, but she tripped straight over the cord I’d hidden in the long grass and went down with a shriek. She tried to get up, but I wasn’t a whole lot slower across the ground, and I was on her immediately. She fought, but I put my knee in the middle of her back and grabbed her arms, cuffing her wrists together roughly behind her back. I pulled her to her feet, took a handful of her wet hair, and twisted her head cruelly so she was looking up at me. She gasped in pain as I stared down at her.

“Nice try, sweetie, but no cigar. Back in your room.”

She started shouting obscenities, I dragged her inside, pushed her down on the floor and quickly checked her legs where she’d run into the cord; the skin was reddened in a line but not broken. That’s why I’d used cord rather than wire. I rolled her over onto her front and unlocked the handcuffs before jumping away from her and standing up by the door. She lifted herself up and glared at me.

“That’s one strike, Miss Gregson. Be VERY careful about number two. I run a ‘three strikes and you’re out’ establishment here, and, trust me, wearing leg shackles 24/7 gets tired real quick.”

She screamed more curses at me.

I kept quiet, locked up and left her to curse.

I hoped she’d clam down and do some thinking about what had just happened; I’d shown her that I wasn’t going to take any shit from her. Okay, so I wasn’t intending to follow through on my statement that she was going to have to make do with a whore’s bath in a bucket for the remainder of her captivity; I’d been forced to do that for a while earlier in the year, and I wouldn’t willingly inflict that on anyone, even her. We’d gone stir-crazy enough being cooped up like a flock of chickens even though we had each other to grouse to; it would be a far worse experience in solitary.

I went into town to buy some more food, pick up some clothes in size 6 tall 34B without leaving a paper trail, and think some more about whether keeping her alive was actually going to be worth all the trouble. Sunday was not a great day for clothes shopping as there were too many people about with nothing better to do than get in my way; I ended up with a couple of cheap Wal-Mart tee-shirts and a pair of leggings, but no questions about why a big guy like me was buying girl’s clothing. I paid cash.

I didn’t speak as I pushed the paper sack containing her lunch into the room. If she didn’t like cold cheeseburger, fries, large root beer and an apple pie, then she could go hungry. I’d really enjoyed mine, though it had of course been half-an-hour fresher and hotter when I’d eaten it. Then I locked up again, drove over to the Hallett Construction office, and worked on my college assignment on my computer for four hours. I didn’t spare my captive a thought until my stomach growled and I realized that I needed to eat again, and therefore so did she.

That evening, her cardboard tray held two cartons of Chinese take-out from town and a plastic spoon to eat it with. If she was one of those weird people who don’t enjoy General Tso’s Chicken and egg fried rice, then she was plumb out of luck. I also pushed in the bag of clothes and half a dozen bottles of water, locked up again and left her for the night, again without a word.