WARNING, DISCLAIMERS, AND SUNDRIES: There will be violence, profanity, sex between grown adult humans of any and all varieties, discussions of crime and punishment, fear, heartache, tears, a couple of laughs, perhaps some sexual violence, theft, anger, revenge, train hopping, several insensitive remarks about handicapped people and minorities and country dwellers, city dwellers, and plain old stupid people, and probably a few other nasty bits of stuff. In short, it is the usual phair story.

RED SOX: The boys are in Florida…summer is racing toward us again…

FEEDBACK: It's a good thing p.phair@comcast.net

# First Seven Then Eight

by

## phair

Chapter 1

Deni Tyler waited patiently to be searched and shackled in the prison's dingy holding area. Several other inmates were beginning to get restless with the hold up in the scheduled departure for their work detail. However, Deni was not concerned with the delay. She could wait better than most folks could. She had the last five years to get acquainted with the concept. Hurrying up to wait was the constant reality of prison life.

Deni believed she managed to almost perfect the art of displaying a casual indifference in spite of any inner turmoil rattling her soul. She continued to appear distant even this morning when her soul was not just rattling. It was shaken to its very foundation.

“Okay girls, let's get moving. I haven't got all day to play nurse maid to the bunch of you,” a rail thin corrections officer announced as she entered the room.

“Won't be nursin' nuttin' but bile out of them shriveled up titties,” a well-worn, twenty something, black inmate sniped.

The corrections officer hearing the mumble but not the actual words turned on the group with a snarl. She searched the smirking faces before her for the wise cracking offender. Her lips lost their usual sour curl and spread into a contented grin when she noted Deni was standing amongst the group.

“ Tyler , that you? You joining my chain gang today. You typically sick out when I'm on watch.” The officer taunted, “Maybe you're here ‘cause you got something to say to me.” When only silence answered her, the officer shouted, “Try saying it right to my face!”

The enraged officer stopped long enough to slam her clipboard onto the desk before stalking over to the loose line of loose women. She may have shown every outward sign of anger but her swagger spoke more of satisfaction.

“She got a hard on for you or somethin' else maybe? Girl can't no credit for her own mouth when you're within pissin' distance?” The offending inmate complained in a low voice.

Deni ducked her head and stammered with stilted words, “Jax, fess up? Can't get bumped. Not this day. Other day okay. Not this day. Please?”

Jax gave a sneering assessment of the stooped shouldered woman next to her before mockingly announcing, “Officer Catley thinks gimpy can talk all good ‘nuff now? Like some kind of miracle or somethin' else; our own limping lady of the penal system.”

Most of the woman howled with laughter. Those women did not know Deni as anything other than the cripple dragging at the back of every work detail. In fact, only Jax and one other woman in the room had ever heard Deni speak more than a half dozen words in any given day. Officer Catley was the other woman. Her conversation with Deni left lasting reminders on both the prisoner's skin and deep in her heart.

“Back it up Jack-wipe unless you want trouble with me. I'm in the mood to lock a few of my problem children down for a night or three,” Officer Catley warned.

“That's Ms. Jackson, to you, Nasty One,” Jax grinned knowing she was destined to be returned to her cell and wanting to make the most of it. “I ain't letting no halfwit steal credit for my best lines. I'll pull my own solo hours! Don't get no money from this shit work anyway. It's all restitution for the punk ass I cut the nuts off of.”

The assembled women laughed again. This time their humor was at Officer Catley's expense. She was denied her fun taunting Deni in front of an audience. Jax would pay the price but for the moment, each of the inmates was enjoying the disappointment Officer Catley could not hide.

“I need back up in the holding bay, pronto! Tell that fat ass to get in here double time. We got a locked down heading back to the main building,” Officer Catley spat the words into her shoulder mounted walkie talkie with spittle flying through the air.

“Roger,” the radio transmission crackled the reply.

Deni suppressed a groan when a heavyset male officer hurried into the room minutes later. His curly salt and pepper hair was glistening with perspiration. He grunted hard and cleared his throat to cover the wheezing noise he made trying to catch his breath. His workday was just beginning and he already had sweat stains under his armpits.

“What's the deal?” He asked with a genial but breathless tone of voice.

Officer Catley would not look the man in the eye. “Officer St. Marie, Jax is lipping off again. She earned a time out in her cage today. You take her back. I'll truss up the rest of ‘em and load ‘em up. By the time you're done, I'll have ‘em in the van.”

“No fuckin' way is he locking me down. I want a female officer. It's my right, my call,” Jax demanded with a twinkle of amusement in her rich brown eyes.

“You only got the rights I decide to give you,” Catley hissed in Jax's face. “And, your only right is to shut the fuck up and go with Officer St. Marie. NOW!”

“Step off, Officer Catley,” Officer St. Marie made the command seem like a request. “This prisoner has every right to request a female officer for escort. So, do your job. I'll get Bernice to come in from the loading area and do the pat downs in here.” He watched his co-worker grind her teeth but make no effort to follow his directives. “Sheryl, don't make me say it twice.”

She shot him a glare before grabbing Jax by the upper arm. Jax shook her off with an indignant snort.

“You're my escort. You ain't my date,” Jax said with a grin. “No holding hands.”

“Shut it and move!”

* * *

“Thought you no work today?” Deni haltingly asked when Officer St. Marie approached with her shackles.

The big man grinned. His dark brown skin dimpled at several junctures on each cheek. He was a jovial fellow and he had the laugh lines to prove it.

“You worrin' ‘bout my health? Careful Tyler , I might think you're startin' to care ‘bout me,” he said with a wink and a nod.

The corrections officer bent to his task beginning at Deni's ankles. She was impassive as he fitted the fetters and clicked the locks into place. He finished the process by fastening the right cuff around her wrist. The cuff locked to the chain wrapped around Deni's waist and was identical to the cuff holding Deni's left wrist to her side. Once he was done, he wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

“You tired early?”

“I'm always tired but I got little Elmer to worry about, now don't I? He's got potential, that boy. He's going places.”

His usually twinkling eyes narrowed with worry. He mumbled his greatest fear to a woman he believed incapable of understanding complex thoughts and long conversations. He was certain she would never be able to repeat any fragment of information she might happen to grasp.

“If this old man of his can hang on and get enough overtime to pay for that pricey high school in the suburbs, he'll have both potential and opportunity. Just a couple more years of sixty plus hours and I'm home free.”

The words were stated in much the same manner the judge used when he sentenced Deni Tyler to prison. Before the corrections officer could say anything more, the door from the main building opened and Sheryl Catley reentered the room. She frowned when she saw Officer St. Marie and Deni were lagging behind the rest of the women already loaded into the van.

“How did I know you'd still be screwing around with the halfwit?”

“No need to be name calling,” Officer St. Marie cautioned the still angry woman.

Catley rebuffed him, “You coddle these cons. They're here to be punished, remember? Or, do you think we're running some kind of nursing home for felonious ‘tards.”

The older man grew visibly angry. He continued to keep a gentle hold on Deni's arm but she could feel a sudden tremor run through him. His voice boomed against the concrete walls when he snapped at his co-worker.

“You're on report! This woman doesn't need your contempt. She needs your help! She needs all our help. Its bad enough the system took no pity on her.”

“Pity? For her?” Catley interrupted his reprimand. “How much pity did she have for all those hard working slobs she robbed? How much pity did she have for the cops she put in danger with that high-speed chase? None! She got all the pity that we should spare for something like her when she wrecked and didn't manage to kill some stray schnook heading off to work. It would have been murder then instead of just armed robbery. Deni Tyler got off damn lucky, if you ask me.”

St. Marie hissed his counter argument, “Brain damaged with a nearly useless leg, trapped in an adult body with the mind of a two year old, is not lucky. It's punishment enough. But, nothing's ever enough for people like you. Leaving her to rot in this dung pit with violent offenders for a dozen years is not justice. It's plain cruel. Piling onto her suffering is only about revenge.”

“Revenge works for me.”

“Figures,” he sneered.

“What are you? The patron saint of solitary confinement?”

St. Marie growled his reply as he calmly led his shackled and limping charge out the exit to the loading area, “No, I'm just a guy who understands a little bit about compassion and forgiveness.”

“No, you're just a guy who's too naïve to believe,” Catley mumbled before she followed them.

* * *

Deni hip hiked her braced left leg to step up onto the wooden pier. She used her trash spear to balance on the bouncing surface. Relentless rains had swollen the river forcing it to crest its grassy banks and quicken an already robust current.

The rest of the prison work crew was a few hundred yards up stream moving heavy sand bags into place. More rain was predicted which posed a threat of serious flooding. A nearby watershed project would be ruined if the river's waters reached the construction site.

When the work crew arrived several hours earlier in the day, Catley dismissed Deni by pushing a trash spear into her hands. Catley pointed at litter along the steeply sloping banks and instructed the prisoner using very simple terms to pick up ever last scrap of junk.

“Might as well get something useful out of you ‘cause you ain't got no chance of lifting them sand bags,” Catley said before letting Deni wander away chasing blowing garbage.

The wind was picking up as Deni hobbled along the ancient wood planks. It churned up the river's already frenzied current. Papers and wrappers littered the narrow walkway from the banks to the pier's end which jutting out a third of the way across the river. Deni continued to follow the blowing trash and stab it once she was within reaching distance. The thunk of the spear tip competed with the thump of her metal leg brace as she lurched closer to the far end of the pier.

“This is BravoTango seventy eight, finished securing six of eleven prisoners in the van with Officer Franklin. I'll be returning to the work site to assist Officer Catley with remaining crew. Over,” Officer St. Marie spoke into his radio.

“Roger that. Pack them up and hurry back, Gabe. The weather guy on twenty five says torrential rains are bearing down on us and we're gonna get swamped. Don't want you getting drenched and catching cold. You're covering for me tomorrow night.”

Gabe sighed feeling the weight of exhaustion settling into his joints and said, “Will do. ETA is forty minutes or so. Out.”

The officer clicked off the radio and climb out of the van's cab. Wind whistled passed his ears and he swore he felt a splash of rain. He surveyed the riverbank before him. Overcast skies seemed to darken by the minute with the setting of the sun. The river was slurping and sloshing over its natural boundaries. It was eager to expand its territory.

The orange suited prisoners were merely silhouettes in the distance. Gabe counted four bodies bending to their tasks and one rigid shape watching over them. His heart rate picked up and he quickly counted again. It yielded the same result. He was short one prisoner.

Gabe St. Marie was a highly trained corrections officer. He had twenty years of experience. Once he received a commendation for ending a riot. He also received a shiv to the ribs requiring six stitches a couple of years back. In spite of many extreme confrontations, he was never so frightened that he screamed on the job. Until today.

“Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus!”

The words ripped across the open field like a gunshot. Gabe broke into a mad dash toward the wildly rocking pier and the lame prisoner struggling for balance only inches from the far end. His heart tripped like a jackhammer in his barrel chest. He shook out of his rain slicker as he furiously strived for more speed.

“Sheryl! GET OVER HERE!” Gabe found enough extra air to bellow the command.

“FUCK!” The singular curse echoed back.

Defying his bulk, Gabe sprung onto the pier's aging wood planks. The force of his landing bounced the pier even more than the current. In utter horror, he watched Deni lose her balance and fall back into the surging water.

Gabe sprinted to the end fully prepared to dive in after her. He stopped short when lightening flashed and reflected off the metal brace. Deni's leg was hung up on a stray line. Gabe grabbed the brace's upright post and pulled. She was dead weight; water soaked and limp.

“Grab her,” he shrieked to Catley who was precious heartbeats behind him.

Catley took the orthopedic shoe in her right hand and wrapped the fingers of the left hand around the brace's upright. She, to her credit, yanked for all she was worth. Deni's body lifted three quarters of the way out of the water. Only her shoulders and head remained submerged.

Gabe risked hanging his own shoulders and head over the pier's edge. Water cascaded over him but he managed to snag the collar of Deni's jumpsuit and dragged her shoulders above the surface. The woman's head lolled backward. At first glance, Gabe realized Deni's mouth was agape and her eyes were rolled back. A huge gash was ripped open from her eye brow to her ear.

“Shit,” water pouring over him reduced him to gasping coughs for air.

“Gabe, I can't hold her much longer! Get her up and out of there!” Catley demanded.

“Can't! She's stuck on something.”

A wall of water cascaded over the trio. The strong surge pulled Deni back down. The front of her jump suit tore in two. Gabe held tighter but with the next blast of water, she was out of Gabe's clutches. Catley lost her grip on the upright once the full weight of the woman shifted to her hands. Her last grasp was on the black soled shoe with the metal brace inserted into the heel. Another wind powered surge ripped the foot free from the leather and the brace free from the shoe's heel.

“DENI!” Gabe screamed like a madman as her body was tossed fully into the rage current.

Chapter 2

“Knew I should've got those ten and a half's instead of the tens,” Deni thought to herself.

She mentally kicked herself for taking so long to wiggle out of her footwear. Every minute wasted in executing the plan was another minute in the cops' favor. She could not afford any more delays if she was going to have even a slim chance of taking care of her problem once and for all.

She let the current carry her to the opposite shore and down stream. Riding the churning water maintaining a rag doll appearance, was a difficult task to endure. Breaths came in quick snorts followed by long moments holding air in her lungs before slowly exhaling. However difficult it was, it was nothing when compared with five years of feigning a lame legged gait and simple-minded responses while living in the dankest, most foul pit of Hell.

Deni did take a serious and unplanned smack to the face when she fell into the river. If St. Marie was one second sooner he would have heard her cursing like a sailor. She was fortunate she did not pass out or have a seizure.

“Wouldn't have to fake drowning then, now would I?” She grimly thought to herself.

It did change her plans a little, because she was going to have to go barefoot.

“Okay, pedicure will be added to my revised agenda. Right after I wring Eugene 's scrawny neck!” The thought of that action alone brightened her mood considerably.

A low hanging branch snagged the sleeve of her jumpsuit. She could still hear shouting from the pier. It would not be safe to just reach out and disentangle the material. She discretely touched bottom with her previously useless leg to give the appearance her body had snagged on submerged debris. As she folded over on herself seeming to be battered by the current, she managed to rip the cloth free of the interfering tree limb.

“Long arm of the law, I guess,” she groused quietly.

The maneuver afforded her a chance to figure out how close she was to a sharp bend in the snaking riverbed. Another hundred or so feet and she would be out of sight for anybody standing on the pier. Letting her body go feet first, she slipped below the raging river's surface and bobbed out of view.

The curve of the river was a mixed blessing. It afforded Deni full cover from the gathering of prison guards and prisoners and the soon to be arriving emergency responders on the pier. However, the current picked up energy as the river's course straightened out and the flow broke free.

Deni was once a very proficient swimmer. A state champion during her high school years but that was decades ago. It was a vague detail of a childhood truly almost completely forgotten.

Wrecking the car during her botched escape from the police left her not only captured but with an all too real head injury. While she feigned most of her physical and speech deficits, Deni did lose large chunks of her memory. She also suffered from fierce headaches, which would leave her violently ill. But, the most dangerous squeal of her injury was her occasional seizures. They were so profound she lost consciousness for hours at a time. Fortunately, the seizures were rare. They were usually only brought on by intense emotional stress.

“Good thing pretending to drown while actually escaping from prison isn't all that stressful,” she mused.

Added to the level of difficulty in the water was her overall physical condition. She was, for lack of a better word, soft. She was not able to really exercise during her incarceration. Feigning a paralyzed leg did not allow her to participate in gym activities or jog on the prison's track. The most she could do was a thirty-minute exercise routine in her cell late at night. Deni was about to find out if the minimal physical regiment was sufficient to survive body surfing down a short stretch newborn rapids.

“Sailing, sailing,” she hummed while steering her body as best she could with her arms.

Deni pointed her body at the stone buttress of the abandoned railroad overpass several hundred feet ahead of her. The water bounced and sunk her but she kept her aim fairly constant. If she hit the structure full force then she could shatter a bone. She needed to get close enough to snag hold of something stationary without being dashed against the concrete.

“How I'm gonna do that, I got no clue. Yet!” Her mind raced to figure out a solution to her quickly approaching obstacle.

With time running out, Deni finally spotted a slim chance. A broken wood support hung down from the overpass. She just needed to grab it. Risking being seen, Deni raised both arms out of the water. Her body was tossed wildly by the current but she was close enough to her goal that a foot or two to the left or right would not matter too much. At least, that's what she hoped.

The wood slapped solidly into her right hand. It was as if she was destined to catch it.

“Even the bad guys get lucky some times,” Deni thought as she climbed hand over hand up the length of board.

Deni was able to swing one leg up on the smooth surfaced top of the concrete piling. Keeping a death grip with one hand on the wood board, she grabbed with the other hand for the edge of the steel support column. Several fingernails broke off trying to dig into the impenetrable rusting metal.

“Manicure,” she gasped when she finally hoisted her whole body onto the top of the buttress, “manicure is also a post escape must.”

Deni lay for a few moments to catch her breath. She had to get moving but she was nearly exhausted already.

“Come on, you sat on your ass for five years. If you don't get moving you're looking at another seven years of sitting in your own shit.”

The thought made her squirm a bit. Her bottom was cold and heavy. The adult diaper wrapped around her was saturated with river water. She sat up on the concrete and began to strip out of her clothes. She made sure to tear and tatter the orange jump suit as much as she could. Before tossing it back into the raging water, she smeared it with blood from her wounded face. Shoe, socks and bra went into the river next. The last thing she hurled into the raging water was the leg brace.

“Good riddance.”

Deni tore the diaper free and stood up. Taped to her hips were two plastic zip lock bags. Inside one was a white tank top undershirt. The other contained a pair of scrub shorts from the hospital wing of the prison.

The physical therapist found it easier to treat Deni in shorts. Deni found it easy to steal the shorts and hide them inside her freshly cleaned diaper without the therapist even noticing. Of course, crapping in her original diaper first forcing the therapist to change her helped distract the woman immensely.

“Five years of shitting my pants every few days finally pays off,” Deni thought as she kicked the discarded diaper off the piling then pulled on the thin but dry clothes.

She would need to find more suitable attire once she hit the road. However, for now, the shorts and t-shirt were perfect for climbing up to the railroad tracks above her. She caressed the back pocket of the shorts to reassure herself the plastic zip sealed baggie was still hidden there.

“Okay,” she wrung her hands dry against each other, “the sooner I start, the sooner I finish.”

The metal cross bars of the bridge made for a simple scaling of the structure. Not having shoes would increase the challenge but Deni was not about to let the risk of bloody feet stop her. She had endured too much to quit because of a blip in her master plan.

“Of course, it won't be a blip if I fall to my death,” she thought.

Deni realized immediately her arms were better able to pull her than her legs were to push her. Limping around with a walker initially and then a cane left her arms much stronger than before her injury. Her legs, however, were seriously deficient for the demands she was making of them.

“Personal trainer,” she thought as she pulled herself up onto the abandoned railroad track. “A personal trainer will fix that problem in no time at all.”

Deni did not waste anytime resting out in the open. She made a mad dash to the empty relay office. The padlocked door stood meaningless next to a shattered window. Deni scrambled into the dilapidated structure and hunkered down on the floor.

She listened and waited. Then she waited and listened some more. Wind and light rain were the only sounds filling the air.

“Must be too stormy to get a chopper in the air to look for the body,” she mumbled.

A train whistling in the distance reminded her she was on a very strict schedule. Taking so long to wiggle out of her shoe cost her precious seconds. She had no more time to catch her breath. Deni needed to move.

“This is why they call it on the run, I guess,” she grumbled before resuming her get away.

* * *

“How do hobos do this?” Deni thought as she hit the ground next to the passing train.

She had been waiting in the shrubs for the 7:20 to chug along. It was required to reduce its speed approaching the small town a few miles up the road. Deni believed it would be simple to leap up, grab a stair railing on one of the cars, and climb aboard the locomotive. However, the task was much more difficult than she believed it would be.

“Those movies from the fifties made it seem like kids could jump on choo choos steaming on by,” she silently fumed as she scrambled to her feet. “Fuckin' liberal Hollywood media! Fillin' our heads with nothin' but lies, lies, and more lies.”

Deni knew she could not risk waiting for the next train. It was more than an hour down the track. She needed to catch this one. Otherwise, she might as well just turn herself in at the nearest cop shop.

“Well, you honor, it's like this,” she thought while breaking into a dead run. “I was kinda foolin' around the last time I saw you. I ain't really a simpleton. Ain't really crippled either. Ain't hardly sorry neither.”

Her feet were beyond painful. Her thighs burned from the strain she was putting on them. Her lungs were begging for more air. Deni dug deep for motivation. She thought of the one thing which could infuriate her to action like no other.

“ Eugene ! You are a dead man!”

The hissed remarked was followed by a burst of anger-fueled speed. Deni slapped one foot in front of the other at a wild pace. She reached out and touched her last possible chance at a free ride. Her fingertips grazed the metal. The brief contact drove her to try even harder. Her fingers were finally able to wrap around the railing. With a leap of faith, Deni jumped. Her left foot caught the last step. She leaned as far forward as she could and fell bodily against the boarding stairs of the open topped boxcar caboose.

Deni grabbed the ladder and scurried up to the top of the train car. Once at the lip, she tossed herself into the cargo area. Deni landed with a jarring rattle on the thick nylon netting tucked around the load of gravel being hauled north. She lay there motionless in complete exhaustion.

“Not the softest bed I've ever been in but it'll do for a couple of hours,” she thought before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

The train was slowing but had not yet come to full stop. Deni was not going to wait. She jumped off and skidded on the gravel fill next to the railroad tracks but managed to remain upright. Keeping low, she scanned the area to make sure nobody was milling around.

“Nothing more lonely than a Tuesday night,” she mumbled after noting the empty station platform and parking area beyond.

Deni was never in Tinsdale , Vermont before but it did not matter. She knew almost ever square inch of the town. Google maps and satellite cams were wonderful inventions. The prison's speech therapist would sit Deni in front of a computer screen and then go make phone calls during their three times a week, hour long sessions. The guy had no idea Deni could read. He thought she was just pushing buttons.

“There's one less per diem job you'll be working, Wilbur,” Deni grinned as she jogged away from the train yard to the adjacent woods, which led directly to a church parking lot.

For the last two years, Deni spent every speech therapy session surfing online maps. She hit sites for nearly every city and town in New England . She never spent more than fifteen minutes on any one map. Anybody checking her computer use would never notice she only cared about one place, one town; Tinsdale , Vermont .

“Deliberately random research, that's what I always say,” Deni let herself have a little chuckle.

The charity clothing boxes of the United Unitarian Universalists Union on Unification Way were highly organized. Three bins stood side by side by side, into which donors would separate clothing, shoes, and toys. They were conveniently located at the back end of the parking lot so people would not block traffic while organizing donations to make a deposit.

“And, for those of us making unauthorized withdrawals, the strategic location provides excellent cover from the street.”

However, there was no need to be careless at this stage of her escape. It was well after midnight but it was a pleasantly cool late summer night. Folks were known to take strolls around the quiet streets of the little bedroom community on nights such as this. Deni stayed crouched and in the shadows along the tree line as she surveyed the parking lot.

“Not a creature was stirring,” she thought with a grin, “just a dark, lanky felon lurking.”

Deni crept up to the big metal containers. The donation boxes had doors on their backsides for easy emptying. Deni slowly opened the clothing bin with a minimum of noise.

Not only were the people of Tinsdale generous, they were practical as well. Jeans and long-sleeved t-shirts were plentiful. It only took a few minutes to find something to fit her lean and long frame. She almost cried when she found a brand new pair of thick, cotton, white socks.

Finding shoes took a bit longer. Her feet were battered and bloodied. She did not want to squeeze the swollen flesh into her regular size shoe but she also did not want resume her travels with floppy footwear.

“No need to embrace the circus look so early in my career.”

Once she was satisfied her newly acquired wardrobe would not draw unwanted attention, Deni returned her discarded selections to the bins and closed the doors back up. Satisfied everything was left the way she found it, Deni calmly ambled across the church's parking lot toward the deserted main street.

“Just another townie out for a late night walk,” she thought to herself, “and not an escaped prisoner come to kill her lying, thieving, useless husband.”

* * *

The house was just as she imagined: a sprawling monstrosity. It sat on seven or eight acres of woodlands. She could not remember the actual size of the lot. The white Mc-mansion with grotesque gold trimming, surrounded by pristine maple syrup producing trees stood out as a perfectly sick symptom of a tasteless society.

Deni knew the back door would be unlocked. That is just how the people of Tinsdale lived. They did not know a man living is their midst was a dangerous criminal. They believed men like Eugene Hussey prowled around big cities like Boston before they were finally caught by diligent and resourceful law enforcement authorities and imprisoned until reformed. The good people of Tinsdale thought they were safely away from the violence and crime of the urban world. However, they were very wrong.

“Crime travels, baby. Evil enjoys vacation time in the peaceful countryside too.”

The predawn darkness was broken by a light flashing to life in the kitchen of the spacious house. Deni shrunk further back into the shadows. She waited to see what the occupants would do next.

“Let's hope there's no dog to let out,” it was one variable Deni was unable to research to a satisfactory conclusion.

The back door opened and a cat wandered out of the halo of light. A screen banged closed but there was no sound of the heavy entryway door shutting after it.

“Almost an invitation to come on in,” Deni thought.

Deni hurried across the rolling lawn. She slid up beside the wall near the back door and settled down on her haunches. The murmur of a radio underscored the sounds of breakfast being prepared.

Deni stood and took a deep breath to calm herself before executing the final stage of her plan. She peered around the doorframe to see what there was to be seen. A woman dressed in pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt stood at the stove scrambling eggs. The woman was thin and appeared delicate in the baggy clothing. She would be easy to subdue. The fact Deni was looking forward to subduing her was an added bonus.

Deni opened the screen just enough to slip inside. She let the door rest against her shoulders while she studied the woman across the kitchen. Waiting for just the right moment, Deni licked her lips with anticipation. As the woman reached forward to shut off the stove's burn, Deni kicked the screen back and let it slam shut.

The woman yelped. Her frying pan went flying before it fell to the floor. The blond, clutching one hand with the other, turned to face Deni. All her confusion at the unexpected arrival was present in her expression during that fleeting moment and then she pulled her suburban hospitality into place.

“I'm sorry, I think you're in the wrong house,” she stammered. “Are you looking for the Irizar's? They're just down the road.”

Deni shook her head, “No, I'm looking for Eugene .”

“Who?” The woman's confusion returned full force. “I don't know any Eugene . Nobody who lives around here anyway.”

“You sure ‘bout that, Sawyer?” Deni pursed her lips, “I don't think you should lie to me. I don't much like it when people lie to me. You lying to me, Sawyer?”

“I don't know what…I mean…what are you talking about? Wait, how do you know my name?” The woman managed to gather her wits enough to step away from the stove and toward the hallway leading to the stairs. “I'm sorry but you're scaring me. I think you should leave right now.”

Deni gave a smug grin. “You thinking you can get upstairs and lock yourself in the panic room before I can reach you?”

“Panic room? What are you talking about? Look, it doesn't matter. I don't care. You just need to leave and right now or I'm going to call…,”

“Who ya gonna call? Huh? Who? Wait. I should say, how you gonna call after I finish snapping off all your fingers?”

The woman bolted. Deni saw the move seconds before the woman even realized she was going to try to run. In three strides, Deni tackled her and they slammed down to the highly polished, hard wood floor. Deni made sure the woman carried the brunt of their weight on impact. After pitiful moan and slight tremor, the woman was still.

Deni got to her feet and began searching the kitchen's drawers and cabinets. She found a roll of duct tape under the sink.

“My, how very organized of you, Sawyer,” Deni said as she returned to the rousing woman lying on the floor.

Deni dropped to her knees to straddle the woman's petite ass. She gave a short tisking sound as she made herself comfortable.

“Must be Irish, no butt to speak of.”

The woman groaned when Deni pulled her arms behind her back. Several quick tugs of the tape and her wrists were secured. The tightness of the restriction must have struck a self-preservation response because the woman bucked awake.

“No, don't,” she sounded ready to cry.

Deni snatched a fistful of soft yellow hair and hissed in a hot pink ear, “If you scream, I'll stuff my underpants in your mouth and tape it shut for the duration of my visit. Got me?”

The woman nodded with a whimper.

“Good. Now, Sawyer, we are going upstairs together. Where is Eugene ? Is he still in bed? Anybody else in the house I need to know about? Tell me or they're dead when I find them.”

“Nobody. I'm alone,” Sawyer whispered. “I don't know any Eugene . I swear I don't know anybody by that name.”

“Oh,” Deni's tone was patient, “that would be the wrong answer, Sawyer.”

Deni rose to her knees before flipping the bound woman onto her back. Without missing a beat, Deni slapped the creamy soft, tear streaked face. The woman cried out and Deni slapped her harder.

“Let's try again. Where is Eugene ?”

Sawyer cringed before answering. “Please don't hit me anymore. I'm not lying to you. I don't know any Eugene .” A slap interrupted her briefly. “I swear I don't know what you are talking about. Please don't hurt me. I'll do anything you want.”

Deni laughed out loud. She settled her bottom down on top of Sawyer and grinned. Slowly, she ground her pelvis against the woman beneath her.

“Be careful when you say ‘anything' to me. It opens the door of possibility much wider than you'd believe. I've been in prison for a very long time. I can think of a lot of ‘anythings' I haven't gotten to do lately.”

Sawyer closed her eyes. Her lips were moving but no words were spoken. Deni realized the woman was praying.

“Okay, now you're just pissing me off,” Deni said with a growl.

She grabbed the woman by the shirtfront, sat her up, and punched her right in the mouth. Blood sprayed skyward as the Sawyer's head snapped back. Deni watched in morbid fascination while the woman struggled to maintain consciousness. Once Deni saw Sawyer give her a hesitant sideward glance, Deni popped her again. This time Sawyer was out cold.

Chapter 3

Deni relished the comfort of her own blue jeans. She retrieved them from the black leather suitcase on the floor of one of two walk-in closets in the master bedroom. The pants were a little baggy but they would do. Next, she tugged on a black pullover shirt but frowned at the poor fit.

“Used to look great on me, now it hangs like a sack,” she grumbled. “Need to get some good food into me. Or, at least, something edible.”

Shaking off thoughts of about her chronic malnutrition from the nightmare that is prison cuisine, Deni turned to examine her face in the bathroom mirror. The mirror was still fogged from the steam of her recent shower. She grabbed the towel she dried her hair with and wiped down the glass. An ugly purple bruise was forming around the bloody gash running across her cheek. She dabbed at the oozing red liquid but it did nothing to stop the bleeding.

“Ice, maybe some ice will help,” she muttered to her own reflection.

Deni walked out of the master bath and into the bedroom. A soft sniffle drew her attention to the bound woman on the floor. Sawyer was right where Deni left her after lugging the unconscious woman upstairs. Deni taped Sawyer's ankles together and tethered her by the neck to the bedpost with a length of curtain cord before she searched the room and then showered. The captive woman's eyes were red and puffy. Her mouth was bruised and swollen. Blood dribbled from her split lip down her chin and on to her sweatshirt.

“If you think you got reason to cry, just give me a couple of minutes more and you'll really have cause to weep.”

Sawyer's body visibly shook at the threat. She did not look up to meet Deni's contemptuous glare. It took her two tries to clear her throat enough to speak.

“Please, don't hurt me,” she begged.

Deni chuckled and then replied, “Don't give me any reasons and I won't hurt you. Now, tell me where Eugene is.”

Sawyer dragged her knees up to hide her face behind them. Her cries intensified when Deni walked over to her. She became almost hysterical as Deni squatted down in front of her.

“Stop fucking around,” Deni commanded as she tugged Sawyer's hair, pulling her face to face. “You're husband's closet is a panic room. His tool bag was right out in the open. Don't try to tell me you don't know anything about everything.”

“I don't understand what you're talking about. My husband is Raphael Roman. He doesn't own a tool box. He's can't fix anything. He's terrible with his hands. He's an art dealer.”

Deni released her hold on Sawyer. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out the zip-sealed baggie. Reverently, she unfolded it and removed the newspaper clipping inside.

“Tell me who's in this picture,” Deni demanded when she showed the yellowed paper to Sawyer.

“It's me and my husband. That's Raphael. Look at the caption. It says right there that it's Raphael Roman. You must've made some kind of mistake.” Sawyer sounded hopeful as she continued, “It's okay. It's all some kind of a mistake. That's all it is. Untie me and then just leave. I promise, I won't tell anybody you were here. I'll make up something about my injuries. Nobody will have to know.”

Deni sneered, “Well, that's mighty nice of you to offer, Sawyer. However, I didn't make any mistake. The guy in the picture is Eugene Hussey. He's a con man from way back. Never was there a slipperier bastard born.” Deni paused before adding, “The son of a bitch is also my husband, not yours, mine.”

Sawyer stared in muted horror. Her eyes filled with tears. Slowly she shook her head no and struggled to speak.

“Can't be, no, he's not. You're crazy. It's just not possible. No, you're nuts.”

“Oh, I might be nuts too but I'm not wrong. The guy you've been calling Raphael Roman is my old man, Eugene Hussey.” Deni made her promise solemn, “He's also a dead man as soon as he walks in the front door.”

“Oh, my God!” Sawyer gasped at the threat. “You can't be serious.”

Deni smiled broadly, “Sure I can.”

* * *

Deni climbed the stairs leading to the master bedroom. Her belly was full of the first good meal she eaten in more than five years. One of the hardest parts of prison for her had been the food. It was absolutely awful.

“Well, the food, the chains, the no sex, the locked behind bars, the listening to morons all day long,” Deni thought to herself. “Come to think of it, prison is just not a very nice place at all.”

Deni entered the bedroom chuckling. The noise made Sawyer flinch. Sawyer kept her eyes down and pulled her knees up to her chest. She had stopped crying and her lip had stopped bleeding but she still shivered uncontrollably. That struck Deni as odd because the room temperature was quite comfortable.

“You can't be cold,” Deni snorted. “Why you shaking?”

Sawyer did not look up to answer. “I'm…I guess…I'm just afraid.”

“Afraid? Are you kidding? What are you afraid of?” Deni questioned with raised eyebrows. “You afraid of me?”

Sawyer looked up to see if Deni was serious. “You…you said you were going to snap off my fingers…,”

Deni smirked, “Well, there was that.”

“And, you punched me…a couple of times…,”

“Think of them as ‘motivational taps' to nudge you into telling me the truth.”

Sawyer frowned. “You knocked me out.”

Deni snorted a laugh, “Don't know my own strength.”

“You said you were going to kill my husband.”

Deni became very serious as she clarified the claim. “Our husband! Eugene/Raphael is our husband. Now, I'm a tad sleepy after my delicious breakfast. I'm just gonna lay down on that lovely bed and have a little nap. If you want to have a snooze go right ahead. You're gonna need all the strength you got when I wake up because, Sawyer, you should be very afraid of me.”

* * *

Sawyer was cowering behind her knees again when Deni woke an hour later. Soft sniffles filled the air. However, the woman did not resume her sobbing.

“I can fix that,” Deni thought to herself and climbed out of bed.

She went back into the closet and grabbed the suitcase where she found her clothes. Whistling lightly, she sorted through several items until she found what she went looking for.

“Okay,” Deni announced happily as she exited the closet with shears her left hand and a set of handcuffs in her right. “Let's find out how much you really do know. We're gonna play twenty questions. You know why I only ask twenty question?”

Sawyer's face paled as she looked at the shears. She slowly shook her head no. She was unable to work up any voice to reply.

“Because you only got ten fingers and ten toes to cut off so you can only get twenty wrong answers.”

Deni laid a heavy kick to Sawyer's shin. Sawyer cried out in pain while Deni forced the injured leg and its mate flat on the floor. She sat straddling them to weigh them down.

“Don't,” Sawyer whispered.

Deni leaned forward pulling Sawyer into a bear hug. The woman gasped as her tether tightened around her neck pinching off her breathing. Deni began to whistle again as she fastened one cuff around Sawyer's right wrist and the other around the footboard slats. Sawyer choked on the pain of having her arm twisted upward behind her back. Deni was unmoved by her discomfort. She used the shears to cut through the tape and free Sawyer's left hand.

Sawyer struggled to push away from Deni but she was no physical match for the woman. The escaped convict easily twisted Sawyer's hand between them. It took her a few extra minutes to force Sawyer's middle finger out of the tight fist. Deni positioned the blades of the shears on either side of the soft skin and applied a bit of pressure.

Sawyer screamed, “Oh God! Don't do it! Please, don't! I'm a pianist!”

Deni smiled, “I know you are.”

The pressure of the shears increased but the blades did not break the skin.

“Now, let's get on with my twenty questions, shall we?” Deni asked.
“Is that one of the questions?” Sawyer snapped back.

“Hey, funny! Okay, I'll play nice. Yes, that can be one of the questions. Here are the rules. From here on out, only I get to ask questions. You will answer every question I ask or you'll lose a finger. If you give me the wrong answer or I don't believe you then you'll lose a finger.” Deni thought for a moment, “I feel like I'm forgetting something.”

Sawyer grimaced and replied, “Your mercy. You're forgetting how to show mercy.”

Deni's features softened and her eyes moistened, “Five years inside takes that all away from you, Sawyer. You have to forget pity, mercy, all the little nice parts of being human. You only get to think about is how to survive. It don't matter who gets hurt or who dies as long as you keep breathing.” Deni scowled, “Now, stop distracting me.”

Sawyer lowered her head and fell silent. She did not shed a tear. Her body stopped trembling. She did not even try to pull away.

Deni was disappointed at the lack of terror. Her plan relied on the premise Sawyer would be so frightened she would tell Deni everything she needed to know. So far, Sawyer was not keeping up her end of twenty questions. Deni applied more pressure on the shears and a line circle of red appeared. Sawyer finally yelped.

“Good, now that I got your attention again let's get back to it.” Deni eased some of the tension on the shears and blood began to trickle down Sawyer's fist. “Okay, two questions down and you still got ten fingers and toes. Nice! Question three, where is Eugene ?”

“ Spain . He's in Spain bidding on a private collection. I can't reach him. He left his cell here because he didn't want his competitors tracking him with GPS,” Sawyer answered in a monotone without looking up.

“His competitors?

“A group out of New Jersey with deep pockets. Corporate pockets.”

“They track with GPS? They can do stuff like that?”

“Yes, they can and they do.”

Deni's brows drew together in confusion, “Really?”

Sawyer nodded, “It's not legal but they still do it.”

“That's weird. I thought only the government can do stuff like that.”

“The government can only do it with a warrant and that is legal.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay back to my questions. When's he coming home?”

“Monday.”

“Hmm, spending the whole weekend in Spain . He wouldn't be working over the weekend, no way. What do you think, Sawyer? Think GenieRalph if cheating on us?”

Sawyer glared at Deni.

“That's what I forgot! Thanks for the reminder. If you give me ‘tude, I'll cut two fingers off just for spite! Got it?” Deni stated with renewed pressure on the shears.

Sawyer bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“How is our boy financing this scam? And, I already know about your cash reserve so save it. He's got his own tap; what is it?”

“Raphael,” Sawyer corrected herself when she felt the shears tighten, “ Eugene , whoever he is, told me he had money from his first wife's life insurance policy.”

“Must've been a big policy,” Deni grumbled.

Sawyer shrugged her shoulders. “I never asked how much or what happened to her. He said it was a car accident. He seemed too upset to talk about it so I never pressed him.”

“You should have,” Deni hissed. “Because I'm the first wife and I ain't hardly dead at all, now am I?”

“No, you're not and that's question thirteen.”

Deni counted back in her head. “Damn, you're right. I better be more careful with you. You're kind of sneaky in a quiet way. Now, as far as you know, GenieRalph got any legal trouble with the cops or feds?

“None. He's an Elk and a Free Mason. We live a very public life.” Sawyer went on to ask, “Are you positive Eugene and Raphael are the same person? My husband is not hiding from anybody. You'd think Raphael would be hiding if he was really Eugene .”

Deni shrugged, “ Eugene wasn't wanted by the cops. Why would he need to hide?”

“If I thought you might be looking for me, I'd hide,” Sawyer mumbled.

“Is it that you really only want nine fingers? ‘Cause you're pushing me, bitch!” Deni warned.

Sawyer stayed quiet and averted her gaze.

Deni took a deep breath to calm herself. “Alright, where was I?”

“That was question seventeen.”

Deni frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes and that's question eighteen.”

“Fuck. I'm running out of chances. I'd better move on to the important stuff.” Deni grew very serious, “Where's Jeffrey?”
Sawyer stared at her mutely. The pressure on her finger increased. Sawyer hissed in pain.

“I really don't know who that is. Give me a description so I can figure out who you're talking about,” Sawyer bargained.

“Short. Jet black hair. Last time I saw him, he was in diapers.”

“Fuck you! Leave my son alone!” Sawyer was incensed and renewed her struggle to free herself.

Deni was equally angered. “Your son? My husband's not enough for you? You want my boy too? Fuck you, bitch! Where is Jeffrey?”

Deni increased the pressure on the shears. Blood started to flow freely from the deepening wound. She reluctantly eased the grip. A glance at Sawyer's determined face told her the time for bluffing was over.

“You selfish, cunt! You live in this huge house with beautiful grounds and you won't let my kid enjoy it with you. You send him to some fuckin' private boarding school where they do who knows what to him while you enjoy the good life. Fuck you, lady!”

“Fuck you right back!” Sawyer screamed. “Go ahead and cut it off! I'm not telling you anything about him. I won't let you hurt him. He can't defend himself. I'm all he's got!”

Deni really lost her temper. She let the shears go and punched Sawyer in the face. It did little to ease her anger. A second punch did not help much more than the first. Deni needed to extract revenge on this woman who usurped her place in Eugene's and Jeffrey's lives.

“Let me make this perfectly clear,” Deni announced as she grabbed the shears again. “You can have Eugene …after I kill him. You might get a couple of buck out of the deal if you insured his useless ass. But, Jeffrey is MY son! You got no business messin' in his life as anything other than the whore Daddy fucks every night!”

Deni turned around keeping her weight on Sawyer's legs but allowing her access to the woman's toes. She took the big toe on the left foot and separated it from the others. Carefully, she positioned the shears on either side of the digit.

“Because I'm a music lover, I'm gonna snip your toe off instead!”

Sawyer screamed as the shears cut deeply into her flesh. She passing out a heartbeat after the toe thudded onto the carpet.

“See, I'm still able to be merciful, Sawyer,” Deni mumbled as she climbed off the bleeding woman and went to the master bathroom to get sick.

Chapter 4

By the time her captive began stir, the noxious smell of burned human flesh had dissipated somewhat. Of course, it took a couple of open windows and two cans of air freshener to help the process. Deni was settled into a comfortable armchair watching the news when Sawyer whimpered to wakefulness. The television volume was low. Deni imagined Sawyer's head was pounding almost as hard as her own.

“Once again, today's top story on Cable Vermont 's news channel is the death toll from Tropical Storm Cleo. Five New Englanders have perished in the flooding, which followed the torrential rains. Four members of a Maine family were swept to their deaths when their SUV plunged into the Merrimack River . Rescue crews recovered two bodies before they were forced to call off the search because of dangerous conditions. And, along the Algonquin River , a prisoner from a tandem work crew fell into the swollen river. A corrections officer suffered a heart attack during a failed rescue attempt. The missing are presumed dead. Recovery efforts will resume when the weather breaks. All the names of the victims and injured are being withheld pending notification of their families. However, in a glimmer of good news, the corrections officer is expected to survive. With more on this wild storm, we turn to Brenda Woodman…,”

Deni heard enough to click off the television with an easy smile on her face. Her headache had lessened by a few throbs with the announcement of her presumed death.

“Oh, God,” Sawyer cried in pain once she began to move.

Deni scrubbed her face trying to clear her mind. It was time to get back to work. She steeled her reserves to continue forward with the more unsavory portion of her plan.

“Somebody's got to do the dirty work,” she thought as she stood and stretched.

Deni took two steps closer to the bed. She hid her amusement at the sight of Sawyer trying to shrink away from her approach.

“Nowhere to run, girl,” Deni cautioned. “That is if you were even able to run anymore. But,” her grin broke free, “your running days are over, I would think.”

Sawyer seemed to be fighting to hold her panic in check. She was not struggling against the handcuffs holding her arms spread eagle. Like wise with her leg, she was not futilely tugging against the rope tying her right ankle to the bedpost. Her wounded foot was free of restraints and propped on two pillows. A clean white bandage was neatly fitted around the injury site. Deni noticed Sawyer pale slightly when her eyes settled on the bandage. It marked the spot of the obviously absent toe.

“I'm gonna be sick,” Sawyer said as she tried to swallow back the bile.

Deni snorted a grim laugh, “Figures.”

Deni grabbed the pot she took from the kitchen in preparation for this moment. She went to the right side of the bed. The strategic placing of the pot left her hands free to reposition Sawyer. The bound woman barely had time to aim before her gut up ended. She choked and coughed and gasped but the heaving continued unabated for more than a few minutes.

Deni held the stricken woman and waited. She tried to ignore Sawyer's suffering. There would be more distasteful moments to pass between them in the hours which lay ahead. Deni could not afford to be compassionate. At least, not yet.

A lull in the retching arrived. Neither woman moved. Neither could be sure a slight shifting would not result in another painful round of heaving.

“I think, I think that's it for now,” Sawyer's voice was raspy. “Thank you.”

Deni was surprised by the expression of gratitude. Biting her lip to hold back a smug comment, Deni proceeded to lay Sawyer down against the pillow cradle waiting for her head.

“Just let me dump this. I'll bring it right back,” Deni promised before hurrying off to the bathroom.

Deni returned with the pot and a towel over her shoulder. “You need to toss again?”

“No, I'm okay,” Sawyer replied without looking at Deni or the stark white bandage around her own foot. “I think.”

“Okay, then I'll leave this next to the bed for now. Let me wipe your face off,” Deni said and sat beside Sawyer.

“No, I'm okay,” Sawyer, sounded nervous as she shifted as much as she could away from Deni.

“Don't be like that,” Deni scolded and began to clean up the helpless woman. “No need to make a big deal out of this. It ain't personal.”

Sawyer gave her a drop jawed look of disbelief.

“Well, personal in the sense I know anything about you. You're probably not a total shit for all I know. You just fell for Eugene and bought into his lies. Easy to fall for him, I'll admit. Happened to me.” Deni's face hardened as she went on, “But, that doesn't excuse you messin' up the life of a kid! Especially my kid! Leaving him rottin' away in some stupid boarding school. Fuck you! Do you even let him visit you in this big fancy house? Or, ain't he good enough to come visitin' at the holidays? Do you leave him there all alone on Christmas?”

Sawyer's glare softened when she heard Deni's voice crack with wavering emotions. She swallowed a couple of times before answering.

“Please let me answer everything before you hit me again. You can do whatever you want to me after I finish. Okay?” Sawyer accepted Deni's nod as agreement. “Charlie is in a private boarding school for special needs children.”

“Fuckin' lying bitch!” Deni shouted and backhanded Sawyer.

Sawyer cried out, “Thought you'd let me talk. Thought you were gonna wait to beat me!”

Deni folded her arms across her chest trying to keep from choking Sawyer to death. She was so angry she was not sure if she could keep from killing the woman.

“Get on with it,” Deni ground out the command.

Sawyer gave her a sideways glance before continuing, “Charlie…,”

“Jeffrey!” Deni bellowed but stayed her fist.

“Okay, okay, Jeffrey. His name is Jeffrey. I get it. Jeffrey is autistic. If he's gonna have even half a chance at a decent life then he needs all the services I can get for him.” Encouraged by the other woman's silence, Sawyer continued, “The school he's in has the best rated program in the country. Each grade has only fifteen students. The teacher to student ratio is one to four…no other program comes close to what they offer.”

“All nice and tidy for you, isn't it? Toss strangers some cash and lock the boy away,” Deni bitterly accused.

“It's not like that at all. The program requires parental involvement. I see and talk to him three times a day by computer cam. Every weekend I go up and stay overnight unless they have a scheduled outdoor adventure. This weekend they went rock climbing. He loves to climb. It is the one thing he's absolutely passionate about.”

“The fundraiser you were at in the newspaper clipping was Christmas two years ago. He was only four! He was living away from home at four? And, at Christmas? You bitch!”

Sawyer remained calm in spite of Deni's rising anger. “The program begins at kindergarten level. And, yes, he did live away when he was four but no, I didn't just leave him alone to rot. I visited him every day it was allowed and used the computer cam to see and talk to him. He came home for Christmas break and regular vacations.” Sawyer closed her eyes but could not hold back the tears, “Don't you think it killed me to leave him there. My God, I was raising him. Charlie…Jeffrey was only eight months old when I met Raphael. I love that boy. I'm only trying to get him everything he needs so he'll be able to make a life for himself.”

“Maybe he just needs his mother,” Deni hissed.

Sawyer snarled her reply, “I totally agree with you. Where were you when he needed you? You weren't around, were you? I didn't leave him alone. You abandoned your son. I rescued him.”

Deni's anger burst forth. She grabbed Sawyer by her shirt and pulled her as close as her bounds allowed.

“Are you trying to lose a finger?”

Sawyer glared at her. “You asked me the questions. You demanded the truth. I'm just trying to be obedient. If you want me to tell you only what you want to hear then you need to let me know the rules have changed. I'm just trying to do what you told me to do.”

Deni pushed Sawyer away. She was certain if she did not leave right then she would harm Sawyer. Harm her so much the woman would not survive the day. Deni stalked out of the room to get control. She had to pull her emotions together or she would never be able to finish what she started.

“ Eugene , I'm gonna kill you.”

She was so determined to repeat the words that kept her focused on her task she missed the soft sobbing from the bed.

Chapter 5

The plasma screen was a blur. It was not a malfunction of the expensive device. Tears were clouding Deni's vision. She was peering into somebody else's life. Like a peeping Tom in the window, Deni was watching scenes from a life she had no business seeing. As the screen saver pictures flipped, Deni had a creeping feeling of being an intruder.

“Well, I did enter without a proper invite actually,” she muttered darkly to an empty room.

Deni had sat staring at the computer screen for almost an hour. The pictures loaded into the hard drive appeared and faded and swirled in the modern day version of a photo album. Her tears welled and spilled and welled again and again but she could not turn away from the images.

In a very real sense, Deni was watching her son grow up right before her eyes. Jeffrey's infancy and toddler years were marked by obvious milestone delays and vacant eyes. Sawyer's smiling face, always smiling, appeared in many shots and more often than not she was gazing at the boy. Regardless of his lack of attention to her, Sawyer was every inch the beaming parent in each candid moment.

“About as cuddly as a cord of wood,” Deni assessed the boy's stiff stance and apparent indifference to Sawyer's warm embrace.

Sawyer seemed oblivious to his detachment. She hovered and hugged through endless shots of birthdays, Christmases, Halloweens, July fourths, Thanksgivings, and hundreds of school events. Jeffrey's father had very limited screen time. None of his moments with the boy gave any hint of his feelings about his son.

“ Eugene , you're almost as stiff as the kid,” Deni stated her observation as a fact.

A change of sorts began with a subtle smile. Deni leaned closer to the screen to watch. Jeffrey's blank countenance cracked somewhere along the way in the most recent pictures. It started with a breathtaking view from the top a mountain and a glimpse of a half grin on the previously flat featured face. As the pictures raced by, Jeffrey's smile began to grow. Then came the shot Deni knew she was dreading. Jeffrey, with his climbing helmet strapped to his head and his safety harness still in place, was running with arms wide open into the waiting embrace of…

“…Sawyer…”

Deni wept.

* * *

She washed her face an a sink filled with cold water and ice cubes. Carefully, she patted it dry to avoid blotching her skin.

“Don't want the woman to think I'm some kind of softie, now do we?” Deni asked her reflection.

Silence supported her resolve to remain stoic.

“Got a job to do but no reason I can't get her to teach me a couple of things about the computer first. Might need ‘em. Never know what I could come up against,” it sounded completely logical inside Deni's head.

She climbed the back stairs practicing the conversation. Deni wanted to get Sawyer to offer to help her. Of course, if she had to then Deni would force the woman to explain the finer details of the brand new computer system.

“But, it would be better to elicit assistance the old fashion way; the Stockholm Syndrome.”

Once she entered the master bedroom, Deni's plan momentarily evaporated. Sawyer was laying exactly where she had been placed hours ago. However, her wrists were red raw and bleeding from her futile tugging and twisting against the ruthless metal cuffs.

“What ‘cha do that for?” Deni shouted much louder than she had intended.

Sawyer flinched and cringed. A soft groan of pain emerged from her trembling lips. Her skin was beyond pale and her hair was sweat soaked.

“Sick. I need…please, bathroom…,” it was all she could manage before she had to swallow back the bile trying to rise in her throat.

Deni grabbed the bucket she had left next to the bed. It was awkward trying to maneuver the woman and hold the pail steady but she managed it. Less than a heartbeat later, Sawyer was retching. She heaved and gasped and puked some more before heaving and gasping again. A whimpering sob echoed hollow off the side of the bucket. Shivering, she eased back. Deni released her grip and watched the woman flop down into the pillows. When she entered the room Deni did not think it was possible for Sawyer to look worse but there she lay much worse for wear.

“I'll go dump this,” Deni muttered but got no reply.

She returned quickly to the bedside. Sawyer looked like she might need the bucket again. Deni didn't care about the nice carpeting. She just didn't want to smell the sick for the remainder of her visit.

“Again?” Deni asked and offered the bucket.

Sawyer quickly looked away and closed her eyes. It was as if the memory of being sick would trigger another round. The bound woman shook her head but did not utter any response. Deni put the pail on the floor and then sat next to Sawyer on the bed. She leaned forward and began to key the handcuff's lock.

“What you tug on these for? You couldn't get out of them. Can't break steel, girl. All you done was mess up your wrists.”

Once her hand was free, Sawyer pulled it down and pressed it to her lips. She cried softly but did not open her eyes. Deni leaned across her, crushing her prisoner slightly, to release the other wrist. That hand too was quickly drawn in close to Sawyer's chest. Deni sat up and Sawyer curled on her side away from Deni.

“No need to thank me,” Deni said with bitter sarcasm as she moved to untie the woman's ankle.

“Thank you,” it was stated in a flat, even, and controlled voice without any hint of emotion.

Deni raised an eyebrow. She realized Sawyer was trying to appear completely cooperative. Deni had used the compliance routine several times herself. It was a good mode to buy yourself some quiet space to regroup your emotions and strength.

Deni smirked and thought to herself, “Can't play a player, Sawyer. I know all the tricks. But, I can use a little peace too so I'll let you work it like you're winning.” Deni cleared her throat to get her prisoner's attention. “Okay,” she smiled to reassure Sawyer when she peeked over at her, “I know you feel like a shit sandwich.”

Sawyer groaned then covered her mouth at the vivid image.

“Oops, sorry. I know you feel…bad,” Deni tried again. “I'm gonna help you take care of business in the bathroom. Let you clean up a little. Then we'll try some flat ginger ale and dry crackers down stairs. I got a pill for you to take. It'll make it hurt less.”

“It?” Sawyer's anger rose and any thought of compliance was lost. “Do you mean my unscheduled amputation when you say ‘it?' If you wanted ‘it' to hurt less then maybe you should have offered the pills before you hacked my toe off with a pair of scissors. Or, maybe you could have not mutilated my foot in the first place! Now, isn't that a novel idea? Not harming me! What a great thought.” Sawyer glared at Deni as she sat up. “Keep you're pills. I'm not taking any of your drugs. I've seen your surgical skills and, frankly, I'm unimpressed. No need to try and dazzle me with your pharmaceutical expertise. Or, are you an apothecary?”

Deni pursed her lips and thought, “Screw Stockholm. I'm much more of a Turkish Prison sort of captor anyway.”

Deni grabbed Sawyer by a fistful of hair and snapped up her head until her face was inches from her own nose. Terror rapidly overtook Sawyer's anger.

“Don't say I didn't try to do this the nice way. But, if you want to get mouthy with me then I'm gonna just do things my usual way.” Deni gave a deadly grin, “My way would be the hard way for you. In fact, it'll be the worst possible way. So, try not to piss me off anymore than I already am ‘cause you already cost yourself another toe. I'll saw that off before my afternoon nap. Wanna go for three in a row. Make it hat trick like in hockey?”

Amazingly, Sawyer didn't cry or puke. Deni had expected one or the other. The absence of either was just a little disappointing. She shook off the emotion and moved on with the plan.

“Okay, here's what you gotta do. You are going into the bathroom and piss and shit. Make the most of it because you don't get sit on the crapper again for three hours. I'll get you a change of clothes ‘cause you stink. Wash up but you better do it at the sink. You ain't gonna be able to stand in the shower no more and we ain't got no time for a bath. And, for God's sake brush your teeth you smell like puke. Now move it!”

Deni release her hold and watched Sawyer topple backward. She scrambled to steady herself. The woman managed to scoot to the edge of the bed without additional encouragement or assistance. She hesitated a moment with her feet poised just above the floor.

“I think…I think I might need a hand walking,” she said in a low voice with her eyes glued to her dangling feet.

Deni laughed and stepped back once then twice, “I think you have a problem then.”

Sawyer grimaced but didn't lift her gaze. She also did not ask again for any help. Using her arms to push up and her unwounded foot for balance, Sawyer got upright. Her bandaged foot hovered in mid air as she looked from it to the bathroom door. Chewing her lip, she committed to take a step. She eased her foot down with one hand clutching the bedpost and the other holding on to the nightstand. Sawyer screamed as soon as she put weight into her leg. The knee buckled and she crumbled to the floor with a clattering of items from the nightstand. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Not bad,” Deni chuckled, “for a first step. You only have twenty more to go. Give or take a couple or three.”

“Fuck you! Just kill me. I don't care what you do. I can't, I won't crawl. Do your worst to me,” Sawyer proclaimed around her sobs.

Deni belly laughed. “You'd be stunned at how worst my worst is. I won't go into a lot of detail but it involves sewing needles and eye balls. Fun, fun, fun. Well, fun for me. Not sure my previous hostages liked it so much. They probably could have told me if I hadn't staple gunned their tongues to the roof of their mouths.”

Sawyer moaned again. Deni recognized the sound. She dove for the bucket. Grabbing Sawyer by the back of her sweatshirt, she pulled her up and shoved the pail into place. Sawyer held her stomach. She coughed hard. Then the gagging followed but, mercifully, no vomiting.

“Hey, hey, I think you're through the puking part. Well, that is until I start pruning your tootsies again.”

“Fuck you,” Sawyer whispered in defeated defiance.

Deni leaned over and kissed Sawyer's feverish brow. “Maybe we'll do that later, after you wash up, because you stink too bad right now to fuck. Thanks for the offer though. It'll be less like rape since it was your idea in the first place. Now, start crawling, Missy. I got work for you to do.” Deni silenced Sawyer's bitter reply with one sentence, “I haven't ruled out pruning your fingers so shut your trap and be grateful I'm in a good mood.”

It took Sawyer nearly fifteen minutes to crawl into the bathroom. Deni showed a small bit of pity and helped her get up and seated on the toilet. She did not extend her pity to allowing the woman any privacy while she relieved herself.

“I've been watching some bitch or other shit or piss less than two feet from my nose for the last five years. You're nothing special,” Deni smirked and squatted on the edge of the tub.

Sawyer kept her eyes averted. Her sticky hair hung like a curtain blocking much of her abused face from the mocking stare of the escaped convict.

“Take off your shirt and pants,” Deni instructed once Sawyer finished her immediate business.

A soft whimper was followed by a softer plea, “Please, just give me a couple of minutes alone. You can leave the door open and watch from out in the bedroom. I won't do anything but wash up. I promise. Just five minutes, please.”

“Um, let me think,” Deni cupped her chin before laughing. “Nope! Not gonna happen in this life time. Don't worry, I won't be shocked by your birthday suit. You got nothing I ain't seen hundreds of times. Maybe even thousands of times. Little titties, fuzzy patch, flat butt; no big deal. So, strip yourself before I decide to help you get naked.”

Sawyer's pale cheeks flushed a bit. She did not look up before she shoved her pants and underwear off her thighs, over her knees, and let them fall to her ankles. Holding the edge of the vanity with one hand and the wall with the other, Sawyer lifted her uninjured foot out of the clothing. Once that was done, she carefully lifted her injured foot but had to support the effort with both hands on her thigh. The loss of support left her swaying as the cloth caught the edge of her bandage. Sawyer sucked in a deep breath before giving the foot a small shake. A sharp gasp of pain resulted but the pants continued to hang from the wounded foot.

“Okay, you win,” Deni snorted as she reached over and tugged the pants free.

“Ahh,” Sawyer cried out but managed to stifle the profanity which was begging to follow.

Deni smiled broadly. “Hurt much?”

“Yes,” Sawyer groaned her reply.

“Wanna pill to make you feel better?”

Silence followed.

Deni watched as Sawyer resumed her undressing. The ragged breathing and shivering movements revealed tremendous pain. Yet, Sawyer asked for nothing. Deni's heart rate picked up as she watched the agony play out across Sawyer's delicate features.

“Oh, come on! You're really suffering. I can tell. It, and by ‘it' I do mean your unscheduled amputation,” Deni stated with a smirk, “has to be paining you something fierce. Must hurt like a punch drunk bastard on a Sunday morning before church.”

“It does,” Sawyer said and tossed her sweatshirt over to the dirty laundry hamper.

“Then why don't you want to take something that will make you feel better? What is it? Do you want a spoonful of sugar or something to get the medicine down your gullet?”

Sawyer ran a trembling hand through her sweat snarled hair. “I want to be fully aware of everything going on right up to the minute you kill me. These are the last hours of my life. I should get to be conscious for them.”

“Now, did I say I was gonna kill you? I'm pretty sure I said I just wanted to kill Eugene ,” Deni was curt.

“I'm not stupid. I know who you are and what you look like. You're planning to murder a man in cold blood.” Sawyer gave a contemptuous laugh but kept her eyes fixed on the floor, “You'll probably make me watch whatever you're going to do to Raphael. Why would you leave me alive to be a loose end who could go to the police? Why would you leave me alive when I would be more than happy to testify against you?”

Deni pursed her lips before answering, “Maybe I need you alive.”

“For a hostage?”

“For Charlie.”

Sawyer's head snapped up. She stared wide eyed and drop jawed at Deni. Fear edged into Sawyer's features.

“You're gonna use me to get at Charlie?”

“No,” Deni sighed and stood. “I saw your screen saver on the computer. The montage could be summed up as the ‘Wonderful World of Charlie and his Mom.' The only Mom he's ever known; Sawyer Thayer-Roman.” Deni walked to the bathroom door and paused to say, “I might be a heartless thief with homicidal tendencies but I love my son. I love him enough to leave you alive. Please don't do anything to make me kill you, Sawyer. It would be too hard for my boy to lose you. However, he won't even notice when Eugene disappears for good. You probably won't notice much either. I'm gonna go get you something to wear. You wash yourself up now.”

Sawyer didn't let Deni take more than a step when she asked, “What kind of pill were you offering me before?”

“Didaudid.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Prison pharmacy.”

“Please,” Sawyer closed her eyes as she forced the words out, “may I have one of your Dilaudids?”

“Sure,” Deni answered.

As Deni stepped out of the bathroom, she thought to herself, “Stockholm Syndrome successfully underway. Still, I may want to resurrect the Turkish Prison routine at some point later today for a couple of laughs. Oh, who am I kidding?” Deni shook her head as she entered Sawyer's walk in closet. “I'm not nearly finished exacting my revenge on the bitch. I'm definitely gonna torture her some more. She might just want me to kill her before I'm done venting my spleen.” Deni began to hum as she riffled through Sawyer's belongings, “But, I'm saving all my murdering for Eugene …,”

Chapter 6

“…and hop,” Deni huffed.

Sawyer groaned as she complied with the command. The pair were descending the stairs in a bastardized version of a three legged race. Sawyer had one arm wrapped around Deni's shoulders and the other hand clutching the highly polished mahogany railing. Deni was supporting Sawyer under the arms and holding up the wounded foot by the thigh. They were navigating the stairs with caution which was dragging the minutes out and significantly fatiguing them both.

“Two steps to go. Hop down again. Good. One step to go,” Deni encouraged.

Sawyer was silent in her compliance. She hopped and groaned and did so again. Her reward at the bottom step was a kitchen chair. Deni all but dumped her into it but Sawyer was grateful just the same.

“Thanks,” she managed to mutter.

Deni grinned as she slid the chair across the gleaming hard wood floor, “Well, my lady, this is a FULL service hostage taking. Don't want you to feel cheated out of any portion of the experience.”

“Please, cheat away. Trust me, I won't complain to the better business bureau. What with you being almost family and all.”

Deni paused her pulling to look over Sawyer's shoulder into the woman's pasty pale face, “Was that a joke?”

“I think so.”

“Ah, funny,” Deni stated then resumed her positioning of the chair next to the computer. “Okay, put your arms flat on the arm rests of this very expensive looking but tastefully comfortable chair.”

Sawyer eyed her with suspicion and asked, “What are you going to do to me?”

Deni reached into her back pocket and pulled a set of handcuffs out.

“Please, don't,” Sawyer tried to control her breathing and wrapped her arms around her belly. “I've been cooperative. Done everything you said to do. My wrists are killing me. Please, there is no need to restrain me. I won't do anything wrong. I'll just sit here nice and quiet. You don't have to chain me up like…,” her voice caught and her eyes filled with tears, “like some kind of animal.”

Deni squatted down next to the emotional woman. Her expression was soft and her voice calm. Still, she clicked one cuff locked around the metal arm of the chair.

“I understand you're sore. But, a lot of the pain is your own fault for tugging on the shackles in the first place. Still, I can see where you'd feel abused and disrespected but you have to try to think of things from my point of view,” Deni reasoned as she presented the waiting cuff. “ Eugene cheated me. He betrayed my trust. Yes, yes, I know there is no honor among thieves but we were married.”

“Less honor there,” Sawyer sounded bitter.

Deni ignored the remark and continued, “We had a kid too. He was suppose to keep the home fires burning while I took the wrap for all the heists. He was suppose to keep cash in my canteen account and bring the baby to visit once a month. Instead, he takes the kid and skips out with my hard stolen loot and doesn't so much as leave me enough scratch for a friggin' coke. I'm left to rot in that piss hole! Do you have an idea how impotent I felt?”

“I'm beginning to be able to guess…,”

Deni ignore the sarcasm. “That's until I see your newspaper article in the style section of Sunday Magazine. Since then I've been planning and plotting. Every day for the last two years was bringing me closer to this moment. And, do you know what this moment is, Sawyer?”

“No,” it was barely a whisper.

“Revenge time!”

Sawyer whimpered at the venomous statement made with such hatred. She lifted her hand in surrender. Deni gently maneuvered it into place and fastened the metal cuff around it. She repeated the actions on the other arm with no resistance from Sawyer.

“Okay, You sit tight. I'm gonna get you a drink to wash down the Dilaudid. Then you're gonna teach me all about that fancy little computer you go there.”

Deni paused to assess her defeated prisoner. The woman sat passively bound to the chair with her head down. A slight shudder rattled her body occasionally but no crying was apparent.

“You just keep doing what I tell you and I won't need to hurt you too much more, Sawyer.”

Sawyer lifted her head and asked in a steady voice, “You won't have to hurt me but will you hurt me just ‘cause you can?”

Deni nodded slowly, “I'd be lying if I said no. I've spent the last two years dreaming about making you feel as bad as I did. But, now that I'm here and face to face with you, I'm finding it hard to really hate you completely. Makes it difficult for me to beat you up without proper provocation. Let's see if you can keep from provoking me, Sawyer. You should really try to keep me liking you a little. Makes it harder for me to hit you, okay?”

“Okay,” Sawyer hushed and bit her lip but Deni couldn't tell if the action was to hold back a cutting remark or the result of fear.

“She should be afraid,” Deni thought to herself as she went to the kitchen. “The way I'm talking makes me sound like a madwoman even to me. And, maybe I am a madwoman. Maybe I am just that.”

Deni grabbed the pill bottle from the counter and shoved it in her pocket. Then she started to rummage through the cabinets. A large glass mug sat on the second shelf of one such cabinet. It sat sparkling among a sea of similar mugs. The image was enough to make Pilgrim thirsty. Pulling it off the shelf, she set it on the counter as she tugged the refrigerator door open. A small grin crossed her lips when she noticed a vodka bottle cuddled close to a Kahlau bottle. She liberated them and lovingly placed them next to the glass. The milk was next to be freed from it's chilly confinement. Tucking a cold liquor bottled under each arm and grabbing the glass and milk, Deni began to whistle as she returned to the spacious living room.

Sawyer was motionless in the chair. Her head was turned toward the floor. She was supporting her injured foot with the other; keeping it slightly elevated.

“You look miserable. Good thing I found a little pick me up in my travels. But, first you need to take your medicine,” Deni was enthusiastic.

She set her supplies down on the computer table. She hummed a bit as she began to mix a potent and large cocktail. Deni was fully aware of Sawyer's worried expression but did not offer any explanation.

“Maybe…maybe you could just let me have a little ginger ale. There is a bottle on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator down stairs in the game room. Or, I could have a sip of water. I probably could just take the pill dry. Really, I could do that. It'd be better than…,”

Deni stopped mixing and fixed an angry glare on Sawyer, “Better than what? Better than this nice little libation I'm mixing up for you?”

“It isn't really safe to mix pills and alcohol. You don't want me to start puking again, right?”

Deni gave an evil grin, “Oh, if you puke this stuff up then I might just make you clean it the hard way. Do you get my drift?” Deni waited for Sawyer to slowly nod understanding. “Good. Now, I'm gonna have a few drinks but I hate to drink alone so you get to imbibe with me.”

Deni took the pill bottle out of her pocket and struggled with the child proof top. After a curse or two, she was able to get one of the pills out. She set the bottle down and lifted the glass filled with tan liquid.

“Open wide,” her command was grudgingly met.

The pill popped in easily. However, the drinking was less than graceful. Deni tipped a little too much too soon and Sawyer began to cough. Deni smothered a chuckle as she watch Sawyer down the concoction.

“Strong, huh?”

“Ya,” Sawyer gasped.

“Need more of anything?”

“Less.”

Deni took a sip. The liquid burned her mouth and seared down her throat. It fired up her belly sending warmth to all her limbs.

“Ohh, so good.”

“Look, if you are going to make me drink more of that then could you get me a straw? There's one in the silverware draw,” Sawyer tried to sound reasonable.

“Seriously?”

“Why would I lie about a straw?”

“Good point,” Deni agreed and went to retrieve the item. “This is hysterical! Is it a crazy straw? Like when we were kids? Seriously, is it glass? Too funny!”

Sawyer allowed Deni to put the straw to her lips before she answered the series of silly questions. She sucked up a bit and managed not to end up in a coughing fit.

“Thanks for getting it. That was much easier. And, yes it is a crazy straw. Charlie loves them. A friend of mine is a glass blower and he made a few of them for me.”

Deni studied the item before taking a drag from it. “Doesn't the kid smash them up?”

Sawyer shook her head, “No, he's very careful with his things. It is part of his behaviors. If anything he's overly cautious.”

Deni was still sucking the amber contents of the mug and watching the liquid fill the twists and turns of the straw. She smiled broadly after taking a healthy slug.

“Well, he's right that it is fun. I could watch this all afternoon.”

“Be my guest,” Sawyer said with just a hint of sarcasm.

Deni reacted without hesitation. She kicked the woman's injured foot hard. Sawyer yelped in pain.

“Didn't I just give you a lecture about not provoking me?” Deni waited a moment and when she did not get an answer she kicked Sawyer again.

“Oooo, I'm sorry, please, don't hurt me, I'm sorry, please,” Sawyer cried and pulled her foot up onto the chair seat.

“Stop pissing me off and I'll stop hurting you! It really is very simple, bitch. Just behave,” Deni said in a very matter of fact manner and sat on the chair in front of the computer. “Now, how do you work this thing?”

Sawyer sniffled back her tears trying to form an answer, “Shake the mouse…you know what the mouse is, right?”

Deni glared at her, “I ain't stupid! Of course I know what the fuckin' mouse is!”

“Sorry, I just don't know what you know. How do you want me to teach you? I don't want to make any mistakes and piss you off again. Just tell me what to do.” Sawyer choked on her fear, “please, don't hurt me anymore.”

“I know how to surf the ‘net a little. I know how to play games like solitaire.”

“What do you want me to show you?”

Deni grinned. “How to access Eugene 's bank account.”

Sawyer looked panicked. “Could…could I have a little more to drink?”

Deni laughed a full bellied laugh. She leaned over and allowed Sawyer to suck as much of the drink as the woman wanted. Nearly half the glass was drained by the time she came up gasping for air.

“Wow, you must be really scared of him.”

“You,” Sawyer clarified. “I'm scared of you. I don't know the passwords to Raph… Eugene 's bank accounts so I figure you're going to slap me around again. Could I have another sip before you do whatever you're going to do to me?”

Deni offered the straw to Sawyer again. The woman almost finished the drink. If she had not started choking she most likely would have emptied the mug.

“Easy there, you ain't no Lindsey Lohan,” Deni laughed.

Sawyer caught her breath. She lowered her foot to the floor. Nodding she was prepared; she closed her eyes and waited for an imminent assault. Instead, she heard only the mixing of another drink.

“Relax,” Deni told her when Sawyer peeked open her eyes. “I think I can figure out the passwords easy enough. You just need to get me to his bank. I don't know which one he uses.”

“Oh,” Sawyer swallowed. “Okay, shake the mouse to get the computer out of hibernation. Then click on the ‘e' for the internet.” She waited while Deni completed the steps. “Now, go to favorites. His bank is Green Mountain Trust and Savings. See it there, no up one, there you go.”

Deni typed in one id and password but the site did not accept it. She tried again and got a similar result.

“Uhm, you only get one more shot,” Sawyer offered. “It will freeze the account if you get it wrong again.”

“Thanks, I didn't know that,” Deni was sincere and offered Sawyer another sip of the White Russian. “Got it. I know what it is,” Deni exclaimed.

She began to one finger type in her next and last guess while holding the glass for Sawyer. It took a moment but the site whirled to life as it accepted her password.

“Remarkable!” Sawyer complimented. “What was it?”

Deni grinned, “bastard1.”

“Figures.”

Sawyer hiccupped and both women were reduced to giggles.

“Here, hold this. I got work to do,” Deni instructed as she wrapped Sawyer's fingers around the mug's handle.

“It'd be easier if you unchained me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Can't blame a girl for trying.”

Deni chuckle, “Well, I won't blame you this time but don't push your luck.”

“Okay,” Sawyer was solemn and directed her attention to the mug in her hand.

After a few minutes of nothing but clicking computer keys and straw slurping, Deni spoke up, “Wanna guess how much lover boy has in his account?”

Sawyer shrugged, “I'd rather have a little more of this stuff.”

Deni chuckled and took the empty glass, “No problem. But, guess just to humor me while I play bartender.”

“Eighty thousand, maybe. Not much more than that. Any real money is invested in the gallery.”

“Wrong,” Deni chimed and took a swig of the fresh drink. “Hmm, good. Try some.”

Sawyer needed no encouragement. She latched onto the straw and sucked hard. Her eyes closed in absolute bliss.

“Sweet. Okay, I'll bite. How much is in his account. Fifty, twenty thousand?”

“Two hundrend and fifty is more like it.”

Sawyer seemed surprised. “I didn't think he'd stay that liquid. We agreed he should keep most of his cash invested in either the gallery or paintings. He must be between acquisitions. That's got to be why he's got so much on hand.”

“Think? I'm not so sure. See, Eugene has a couple of other bank accounts.”

“No, we only deal with GMT.”

Deni took the mug out of Sawyer's hand and slung back a mouthful of the potent drink. “You really should check the history out more often. Seems you got quite a few banks lined up there. Wanna guess how many?”

Sawyer squirmed a bit, uncomfortable under direct questioning about the surprising revelation. “Five or six?”

“Nice try. Here you need a big gulp before I tell you the total.” Deni offered the straw and Sawyer drew in a large amount. “More than a dozen.”

“What?”

“Yep, it's like fourteen or fifteen. And, if those accounts are anything like the one at MGT…,”

“GMT.”

“…what fuckin' ever, he's got two accounts, at least. One as Eugene Hussey and one as Raphael Roman. All of them are probably up to the FDIC insured limit of two hundred and fifty K. So, he'd got at least seven mill kicking around whenever he's ready to run out on you.”

Sawyer was silent as she stared at the floor.

“Nothing? No denials of my theory as impossible. No claim of undying love. No defense of your man.” Deni waited but Sawyer said nothing. “I must say, this was very anticlimactic. I'm a little disappointed.”

“That's too bad because I'm tremendously disappointed. Thanks for ruining my perfectly good life.”

Deni waited but that was all Sawyer had to say. After a few minutes, soft snores filled the room.

“She fuckin' fell asleep during my big moment? Unbelievable,” Deni muttered before downing the last of their shared drink. “This wasn't nearly as much fun as I thought it was gonna be.”

Chapter 7

“Oh, the tintinnabulation so disturbing my relaxation,” Deni mused as she roused from her slumber on the couch. “So destroying my pleasant mood it causes me to brood, I'm gonna kill Eugene.”

Deni sat up wiping sleep crust from her eyes. She felt remarkably clear headed in spite of her over indulgence early in the day. Allowing her body to take a little stretch before she set to work finding the device making the annoying dinging sound, she grimaced when her joints popped with the sudden shift in position.

“Ah, aging is not for wimps,” she chuckled more to herself than the woman bound to the chair in the center of the room.

With just a glance at her captive, Deni knew the woman was up to something. Sawyer's face was pale and she seemed to be holding her breath then panting when her lungs begged for air. A slight shake was evident in her stiff shoulders.

“Definitely up to something.” Deni muttered before asking in a much more demanding tone, “What's making the racket?”

Sawyer's head shot up and to the left to face Deni. She was so focused on her own thoughts; she did not realize Deni was awake. Sawyer cringed as Deni stood and stalked over to her. Before reaching the chair, Deni saw a cell phone next to the computer's speaker was flashing with an incoming call. Deni grabbed the phone but couldn't figure out how to make it stop all the electronic noise.

“Any idea who might be calling you? Seeing as, you say, lover boy doesn't have his cell with him.” Deni glared at Sawyer almost daring her to tell a lie.

“You can see from the cell's screen it's my mother.” Sawyer added with a hint of sarcasm, “It's customary in some cultures for mothers to keep in contact with their offspring.”

“Hardy har har,” Deni smirked as she squinted at the now silent phone. “How likely is it she'll come over here to keep in contact with her spawn if you don't return the…let's see…one, two, three, four, five…six calls she's made today?”

Sawyer's jaw dropped. She hadn't considered the possibility of her mother rushing to check on everything herself. Sawyer's only thought was on a rescue once her mom could not reach her. A 911 call resulting in police and fire racing to her home was the only outcome she allowed herself to think about.

“Oh, God, no, please, don't hurt her, please,” it was gasped as Sawyer struggled to breath around her panic. “No, no, no, don't hurt her. Please,” Sawyer's pleas were barely above her wheeze.

Deni recognized the strangled sound. One of her cellmates had asthma. The woman was an okay sort. She used to share her candy from the canteen. So Deni didn't mind providing occasional assistance when a rare but particular bad attack hit in the middle of the night.

“Where's your inhaler?” Deni asked in a calm voice.

Sawyer was panting so hard she could not speak. Deni took two steps closer and saw that only increased Sawyer's panic.

“Medicine cabinet?” Deni made a likely guess. Sawyer nodded yes. “Downstairs bathroom?” Again Sawyer nodded yes.

Deni didn't wait for the second bob of Sawyer's head. The escapee hustled to the bathroom on the far side of the kitchen. She nearly pulled the mirrored door off the little box over the sink. The inhaler was sitting dead center on the first shelf.

“Must happen a lot,” Deni thought as she trotted back to a still gasping Sawyer.

The bound woman was losing her battle to drag air into collapsing air pathways to starving lungs. A deep rattle was the only sign in the silent room of her futile effort to breath. Deni cradled Sawyer's head with one hand and positioned the inhaler with the other.

“On three; one, two, three.” A puff shot from the condenser into Sawyer's mouth. “And, again. On three; one, two, three.”

Deni lingered holding Sawyer's shuddering body. The gasping was slowing. Air was moving in and out of Sawyer's lungs easier with each successful cycle. Deni could feel Sawyer slump over, leaning more heavily against her waist. She knew the woman was starting to cry.

“No,” Deni hushed and rubbed Sawyer's back with the palm of her hand. “Don't cry. You'll be right back where we started if you cry. Just take nice, slow breaths.”

“Please, don't hurt my mom…,” was all Sawyer could choke out.

Deni kept steady with her actions and tone, “Truce, okay? We'll call a truce for a couple hours. Let you get yourself put back together. Soon as you think you can talk, we'll call your mother. You tell her you had an asthma attack and that's why you couldn't answer early. Make her feel comfortable enough she doesn't come snooping around out here. I won't go out of my way to hurt her, Sawyer, but she can't interfere with what I got to do.”

Sawyer was quiet. She slowly shifted to sitting up and away from Deni's support. Her face was ashen but she was definitely breathing better.

“Truce,” she stated in a raspy voice. “Can we call my mom now? Stop her before she does anything to upset you.”

“You feel up to it?” Deni accepted Sawyer's affirmative nod and pulled the phone out of her pocket. “How do I make it work?”

“If you unchain my left hand, I can do it. It'd be faster.”

“Sure it would. It'd be easier for you to try to get away too,” Deni answered.

“A one handed escape attempt? Five minutes after an asthma attack? With only nine toes to run away on? You are kidding, right?” Sawyer questioned bitterly.

Deni grumbled and clenched her fist, “So much for truce talks.”

A look of absolute terror fell across Sawyer's face. The abject horror startled Deni. The woman was beyond frightened. Deni tried not to care she was the cause of Sawyer's anguish.

Sawyer was straining against her restraints to huddle into a ball. “I'm sorry. I'm an ass. I got a big fucking mouth. Ask anybody. Please, please don't hit me anymore. I'll teach you how to use the phone. We can call my mom now. Then you can lock me in a closet or something upstairs or in the cellar or the garage. Doesn't matter. Just get me out of your way. Please, I'm sorry. Please, don't hurt me.”

“Stop, just stop, okay?”

Deni barked louder than she intended. It left Sawyer shivering in fear but silent.

“Tell me how to use this.”

Sawyer swallowed hard before she could begin. “Run your finger across the screen. Now, tap the icon of the phone. Just hit the word history. There, at the top, the last call, hit that.”

Deni stared blankly at Sawyer waiting for what comes next. A worried voice sounded from the device in Deni's hand.

“Sawyer, love, thank God you called. I was starting to get really worried. Sawyer? Sawyer? Are you there?”

“Hold it to my ear,” Sawyer's whispered direction got Deni moving.

“Mom? Mom, can you hear me?”

“Darling, what is going on? You sound terrible. Are you sick? Should I come over?”

“No!”

Sawyer shouted. Deni placed a hand on her shoulder. Neither woman was sure if it was a supportive or threatening move.

“I mean, I'm fine. No need to run over here. Asthma attack. I've been taking it ease since. The house is a mess. Don't want you to think I'm a slob,” Sawyer babbled before her voice gave out.

“Honey, why don't I come over and help you out? I don't mind. It'll give us an afternoon just you and me without the men folk.”

Sawyer's eyes drifted closed and tears formed at the corners as her mother spoke.

“Mom, I love you,” Sawyer's voice hitched and the grip on her shoulder got tighter.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

Sawyer dragged in a deep breath before answering. “Everything is…fine. I just feel kind of beat up…,” the pressure on her shoulder increased. “I mean, you know how weak I get after an attack. Just need to sleep for a bit. I'll call you tomorrow morning. First thing.” Sawyer had to bite back a cry of pain when Deni's hold on her became viciously tight.

“If you're sure…,” the woman was hesitant.

“Positive. I don't want you driving all the way over here and seeing me like this.”

“Alright then, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, darling.”

“Love you too,” Sawyer whimpered when the call ended.

The crack of flesh against flesh echoed in the room. Sawyer did not scream or cry out when the fierce backhand connected. She let her head roll with the force instead of snapping away from it. The bound woman was expecting the blow.

“She's getting good at taking a beating,” Deni acknowledged silently before launching into her reprimand. “What are you trying to do? Do you like having me whack you around? Do you need to make me beat the shit out of you every twenty minutes? What the fuck is wrong with you? I thought you agreed to a truce!”

“Please, can't you just lock me in one of the bathrooms upstairs? I'll be out of your way. Won't need help to the toilet. Won't make a mess. You don't need to feed me. There's plenty of water. I can last a week or so just on that. It'll give you plenty of time to do what you need to do. Please, I make a terrible hostage. Don't know how to act deferential. I don't how to behave when I'm not chained to the furniture. I never know when to shut up. When I'm scared it gets even worse. I'm annoying and I'm a smart ass and,” she began to weep harder, “I'm in absolute agony sitting here. Please, just a little mercy, please. I promise I won't tell anybody you were kind to me just this once. It'll be a onetime act of kindness with no witnesses.”

“Wow, you're insulting even when you're begging. What a piece of work you are. Maybe you and Eugene deserve each other,” Deni said. Sawyer seemed like she was going to speak but Deni interrupted her. “You should keep your yap shut. I'm not looking to smack you, right at the moment. I think getting you settled down for a rest might be the best thing I can do for both of us.”

Sawyer nodded agreement and kept her mouth closed tight.

“Okay, here's the plan. I'm gonna carry you back up to the master bedroom. I'll let you get freshened up in the bathroom then both of us will take a siesta on that big fucking bed you got up there.”

“Both?” Sawyer swallowed hard with the question.

“Do I need to duct tape your mouth? You are a pain in the ass, do you know that? Can't stay quiet for five minutes.” Deni paused. She was surprised Sawyer stayed quiet in the lull. “THERE! That's what I want you to do. Sit still and shut up. Excellent!” Deni grinned with true happiness. “I may not have to kill you, Sawyer, if you get cooperative and compliant real fast. I'd like to leave here with you still sucking air after I take care of my business.”

“Killing Eugene?” Sawyer asked softly.

“Damn fucking straight!”

Chapter 8

Deni woke feeling very rested. The room was warm and graying in the dimming sunlight of the waning day. The peaceful stillness was broken with an occasional sniffle from the other occupant reclined on the massive bed.

“What'chu cryin' ‘bout?” Deni asked before allowing her body a full stretch.

“Sorry,” the voice was choked with unshed tear. “Didn't mean to wake you. Please, don't hurt me. I'll be quiet. Please don't gag me.”

Deni sat up from her comfortable cuddle around a fluffy pillow. She let out a big yawn before inspecting her captive. Sawyer remained right where Deni left her. Flat on her back with her arms chained above her head by the handcuffs and her taped together ankles were tethered to the footboard.

“Sleep well, honey?” Deni taunted.

“Fine thank you,” Sawyer stated evenly. “Could you let me up now and just lock me in the bathroom. Please. I won't be anymore trouble. I promise. Please, just lock me up and forget about me.”

“Oh, don't sell yourself short, young lady. I could never forget the pretty little thing who swooped my husband off his feet and stole away my baby.” Deni snarled a bit, “No, I'll never forget about you, Sawyer.”

Sawyer closed her eyes. A tear ran from the the corner as a tremor shook her to the core. Her breathing started to drag in ragged gasps with her mounting fear.

“Hush,” Deni soothed and lay her palm on Sawyer shivering abdomen. “Hush, don't set yourself off into another asthma attack. Your lungs need a break. And, I could use one too. Shhhh, easy breath in and easy breath out, and again.”

Sawyer did not open her eyes. However, she followed the directions exactly. Her trembling did ease and her breathing quieted.

“Tell me the absolute truth,” Deni's tone was soft and she continued to stroke Sawyer's belly, “is there anyway for you to get in touch with Eugene in Spain?”

“No,” Sawyer sounded pitiful.

“Shh, easy breathing. How likely would it be for him to notice a raid on his bank accounts while he's away on business?”

Sawyer eyes snapped open. She considered the question for a few moments before venturing an answer.

“I wouldn't think he'd notice until he got back. He probably wouldn't notice until something bounced or when he's consolidating his monthly statements on the fifteenth. The fifteenth of every month he settles all his accounts. It takes the whole day. He's kind of anal about doing his bookkeeping.”

“Well, with more than a dozen accounts, you have to be anal,” Deni shrugged. “I'm starting to rethink my plan, Sawyer. I'm thinking about scratching the killing part and just taking the money and run.”

Sawyer's jaw dropped with her surprise. Her mouth moved to speak but she remained silent.

“Yep, laying here in this sweet, big bed got me thinking about how much I actually hate prison. If I kill Eugene, there is no way I'll stay free. They will hunt me down to lock me back up in that pit forever.” Deni leaned over and began to untie the tether holding Sawyer's feet to the footboard. “Nope, I'd never have a chance to stay loose if the cops are hunting a cold blooded killer. But, a thief could slip under the radar and be forgotten. Especially, if the money stolen is from less than legal accounts. I'd have a real chance to make a clean get away.”

“Maybe,” Sawyer's reply was momentarily interrupted with a flash of pain when Deni ripped apart the duct tape holding the wounded foot to the healthy foot. “Maybe, you could do better than just making a get away.”

“How so?” Deni asked and then scooted up to the head of the bed to release the handcuffs.

“You could turn yourself in. Tell the cops it was an accidental escape.”

“Accidental escape,” Deni repeated with little enthusiasm while fidgeting with the lock.

“Sure,” Sawyer was undaunted by her audience's dull reply. “You didn't mean to get away from them. You got hurt. You hit your head and got confused. It took you a day or so to figure out where you were. They probably wouldn't give you any more time than you have left to serve. You could just finish up your sentence. Put the past behind you. Then you really could be free with cash waiting for you.”

Deni gave a snort of contempt.

“No, really, think about it. Just a couple more years doing your time. Maybe, maybe Raphael…Eugene and I could help you get a better lawyer to reduce your sentence a little bit. What've you got left to go? Eighteen months or so?”

“Try eight years. Running off sort of screws up the good behavior time I was racking up. But hey, what's a couple of thousand days difference?” Deni mused in a half hearted mumble.

Sawyer ignored the sarcasm and continued, “When you get out, you could maybe meet Charlie. Some kind visitation arrangement or something, you know, like at holidays.”

Sawyer sounded encouraging even as she winced in pain from her freed but badly abused wrists.

“One big happy family?” Deni asked with feigned joy. “Like on TV? A very special episode of Sawyer's World? Get real, lady! I cut off your friggin' toe! Somehow, I doubt you'll be feeling all festive with me sitting next to your Mom for Christmas dinner. Shit, why would you even want to help me?”

Sawyer shifted back away from Deni before answering. “You could have hacked off my finger and you didn't. You could have taken my music away from me for ever. You didn't. I asked you to show me mercy and you did the best you could. Now, I'm prepared to do the best I can.”

Deni stared at the woman. Sawyer's face was battered and bruised. Her eyes were puffy red. But, she was not terrorized. She was cautious but not scared witless.

“You got some balls, lady,” Deni grudgingly complimented.

Sawyer shook her head. “No, I have faith.”

Deni guffawed laughing.

Sawyer persisted. “I have faith enough to forgive you, Deni. I have faith enough to believe that the woman who gave birth to Charlie is good at heart. He's too special. His mother must be a little special too.”

Deni stopped laughing. Her throat tightened and she found it hard to catch her breath. She suddenly could not meet Sawyer's eyes.

“Charlie's mother is special, Sawyer. You are special.” Deni could not bare the sick feeling lodging in her stomach with the weight of Sawyer's forgiveness. “I'm sorry I hurt you. You didn't deserve it. My beef is with Eugene.”

“I didn't realize until now how big a bastard he is. To be honest, I'm furious with that piece of shit. I'm kind of sorry you've decided not to kill him.” Sawyer smirked a little, “I really want him to hurt as much as we hurt. So, let's go rob the son of a bitch.”

“Now, you're talking my language,” Deni said as a smile spread across her face.

Chapter 9

“Aggie Moorehead?”

“Of the New England Mooreheads. The New England, North Dakota Mooreheads, that is,” Deni stated as she continued to type her alias into the name field of the bank account she was creating.

Sawyer squinted to get a clearer look at the information on the screen before asking, “New England, North Dakota?”

“Yes, just south west of Bismarck. But, most of the family prefers to winter down south in Sioux Falls.”

“Seriously?” Sawyer asked in disbelief.

Deni smirked a bit before turning away from the computer screen to answer. “How many TSA guys are gonna think twice about a pale, skinny chick in a heavy winter coat carrying a US passport saying she's from North Dakota heading for Oslo with stop overs in St Paul and Amsterdam.”

“Seriously?”

“But,” Deni chuckled as she continued, “my fictitious little bumpkin alter ego misses her connection in St. Paul and has to go to JFK to catch a connection to Brussels.”

“You're going to St. Paul from here?” Sawyer asked with some confusion. “Wouldn't it be easier to go directly to New York?”

“Aggie's just gonna show up at JFK with the uncancelled eticket for Amsterdam from St. Paul. Her missed connection's ticket. She's switching carriers in mid trip because she's so annoyed with Delta making her miss the connecting flight with their chronic delays.”

“Convoluted but clever, I guess,” Sawyer offered limited support for the plan.

“Damn straight, it's clever. Sweet little Aggie is even shifting her European drop off to Brussels because the Lufthansa flight is cheaper and she's heard their service is better. She's planning on taking a train from Brussels to…,”

“Amsterdam?”

Deni shook her head. “To oblivion.”

“You mean, it's safer for me not to know where you're heading when you finish robbing us,” Sawyer said as she shifted nervously in the chair she was currently chained to.

“No, I mean it is safer for me to keep you uninformed.”

Sawyer nodded and looked away under the implied threat.

“Besides, I'm only gonna rob Eugene. I don't want your money. I want my money. Now,” Deni changed the subject and lightened her tone, “let's get that cash moved from here to there.” She paused before asking, “Any idea how we might accomplish that?”

“Huh?” Sawyer was speechless.

“You got any idea how to move money from one of Eugene's accounts into good old Aggie's newly established bank?”

Sawyer stuttered slightly, “You mean, you figured out everything except how to get the cash?”

Deni shrugged a little. “Can't think of everything. Even well thought out plans can have holes in them.”

“Gaping holes,” Sawyer clarified. Her handcuff chains clinked when she drew back as Deni shot her a dirty look. “Whoa, I'm just agreeing with what you said.”

“Thanks for the support,” Deni rolled her eyes. “So, back to my gaping hole, as it were. How do I move the money around?”

Sawyer bit her lip as she thought. She nervously tugged on her handcuffs as if she was checking how secure they held her. Unconsciously, she shook her head with the resistance she felt.

“Come on,” Deni was exasperated. “You rich people never carry cash. How do you get at your money?”

Sawyer's eyes flashed with a sudden idea. “Every month money automatically transfers into our shared account from Raphael's GMT account. We can go into his account and change the date and amount to be transferred.”

Deni nodded then questioned, “How do I get it out of the shared account?”

“I'll just call my bank and have money transferred to Aggie's bank account.”

“Good thinking, Sawyer!” Deni grinned.

Deni pulled the key to the handcuffs out of her pocket. She leaned over to unlock Sawyer's chains. The battered woman flinched slightly when Deni touched her.

“Sorry,” Deni muttered without looking up. “Can you make the changes to Eugene's account?”

“Sure. What are you gonna do?” Sawyer asked cautiously.

Deni grinned, “I'm gonna make us another round of drinks.”

She stood and moved her chair out of the way. While Sawyer was massaging feeling back into her wrists, Deni slid Sawyer and her chair across the hard polished floor to place her in front of the computer. Sawyer didn't wait to be told to get to work. She immediately began to type. Deni whistled happily as she strolled into the kitchen to fix a potent drink for herself and her conscripted hostess.

“Problem,” Sawyer called from the other room just as Deni was putting the milk back into the refrigerator.

“Coming,” Deni huffed and grabbed the drink. “What's wrong.”

Sawyer waited for Deni to reenter the room before explaining her remark. “I did this three times. The money looks like it transfers and the balance drops to zero but when I quit the task the balance returns to two hundred and fifty thousand. I don't know what I'm doing wrong.”

“Does it give you a message or anything?” Deni asked and pulled her chair close to Sawyer's.

Sawyer said, “Stupid thing says action completed but then the balance bounces right back up.”

Deni thought for a moment before grabbing the cell phone and handing it to Sawyer with a firm command, “Check the account you moved the money to.”

Sawyer shrugged and began to dial. She pressed the numbers icons as she moved through the automated program. Pausing, she listened and her eyes grew wide in disbelief.

“How much?” Deni asked already knowing the answer.

“Three quarters of a million dollars more than I had twenty minutes ago,” Sawyer answered.

Deni smiled. “He's got money automatically transferring into his account from someplace else. Can you find out where?”

“It should tell us on the statement page,” Sawyer said even as she was navigating the screen menu.

“Sweet!” Deni exclaimed when the information listed on the screen. “I hadn't found the Bank of Ohio account. That brings us up to fifteen separate accounts,” Deni announced.

Sawyer shook her head glumly, “So far.”

“Here, baby, have a drink. It'll cheer you up,” Deni teased as she passed the glass to Sawyer. “I'm going to do a little more banking while you get smashed.”

Sawyer accepted the drink and began to sip even as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“My fingers are killing. What a hard day's work,” Deni joked.

Sawyer was polishing off her third cocktail with a long swig.

“Another?”

Sawyer shook her head. “Better not. I still have to call my bank. Don't want them to think I'm dead drunk.”

“Good point.” Deni agreed. “Let's get the transfer going.”

Sawyer nodded. She cleared her throat and set her glass next to the computer screen. She accepted the phone from Deni and began to press the icons. Holding the phone to her ear she waited.

“Yes, could you connect me to Wallace Jones. Thank you.”

“Wait,” Deni whispered. “Why are you moving the money? He'll ask, I know he'll ask if you know him by name. He'll worry.”

Sawyer shook her head slowly as she answered the voice from the phone. “Mr. Jones, Sawyer Thayer-Roman, I have some business I need your help with. Yes, transferring funds. A significant amount I'm afraid. Yes, there is a cash flow problem for a project I'm developing. I need to transfer two point five million from the GMT account to a Citi corp account. Yes, Agnes Moorehead. Last four digits of her account is 9230. Yes, I'll wait.”

Deni looked worried.

Sawyer hushed, “Relax. Almost done.” Then she turned her attention back to the voice on the phone. “Yes, that's correct. When can I tell her the funds will hit her account. It should read as pending now…and after nine tomorrow available for withdrawl. Great. That is tremendously helpful. Mr. Jones, thank you for helping with this. Yes. Yes. That's why I use GMT; superior service everytime. Thanks again. Yes, I will, you too.”

Sawyer pressed the icon ending the call. She offered the phone back to Deni then place her arms back on the chair arms waiting to be chained again.

“Done?” Deni asked unable to conceal her anxiety.

“Done.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Sawyer saw her answer did not satisfy Deni. “You don't think that was the first time he got a call like that from me, do you? You don't think that's the largest amount I ever transferred over the phone, do you?”

“Isn't it?”

“No. Granted it is not routine but is far from exceptional.” Sawyer sighed. “What happens now? Have you figured out this part of the plan? You have to wait until tomorrow morning to access the cash from your account. Are you going to lock me in the bathroom and get some rest? Are you going to chain me up again and run off? What are you going to do now, Aggie?”

Deni laughed. “That ain't really my name.”

“I know but it is all I want to to know you as. Don't tell me anything that you might have to kill me for. I'd like to hold you to your word about not killing me.” Sawyer sighed, “Just tell me what to do next and I'll do it. No questions asked.”

Deni grinned, “What if I said I want into your pants?”

Sawyer said nothing. She undid her pant's button and zipper.

“That easy, huh?” Deni grunted.

“Yes. Whatever you want. That easy. There's a vibrator in the night stand drawer. I think there might be a butt plug and lube there too. You want me on the floor or back upstairs. It could take me a couple of minutes on the stairs because I'm a little more tipsy than on the way down but it's making my foot hurt less,” Sawyer paused. “I'm babbling. Sorry. Just tell me what to do.”

Deni tried to shake off her surprise. “You want me to fuck you just like that?”

“Fucking me would be the least offensive thing you've done to me today, so suit yourself. Just, please, don't hit me anymore. I'm really tired of hurting. And, I'm too exhausted to keep being scared of you.”

Deni stood and walked over next to Sawyer. She leaned down and kissed the top of Sawyer's head. Her hand moved almost on its own to the open zipper. Her fingers lightly traced the smooth skin revealed beneath.

“Shaved?”

“Yeah, Raphael likes it that way.”

“What about you? You like it that way?”

Sawyer shook her head gently in time with Deni's petting. “No, it's a pain in the ass to keep up with.”

“You like that vibrator you got upstairs?”

“Yep,” Sawyer leaned closer to Deni to rest her head against Deni's firm thigh. “I like it best when my ass plugged. Raphael hates to use toys. He thinks he should be enough.”

Deni laughed. “If I remember correctly, Eugene was not so long and not so hard for so long.”

“You got that right.”

“Want me to make you feel good?”

Sawyer whimpered and whispered, “Yes.”

The fireplace was crackling with a growing flame when Deni descended the stairs from the master bedroom. Tucked under her left arm was the goose feather comforter from Sawyer's bed. Deni's right hand clutched the velvet bag retrieved from Sawyer's nightstand. It carried a distinctive feminine scent which brought a welcome warmth between Deni's thighs.

Sawyer was seated on the hearth right were Deni left her. She was staring at the fire while shifting the hissing logs with the heavy black poker. Deni frowned at the potential weapon in the woman's hands.

“Forget fooling around with the fire, toss a few of the sofa cushions onto the floor,” Deni tried to keep her tone light.

She felt a twinge of relief when Sawyer racked the poker back onto the stand. Sawyer didn't notice Deni's initial concern nor her subsequent relief with her compliance. Instead, Sawyer dutifully followed the directions.

Once the cushions were scattered across the floor, Deni snapped the comforter open. She let it drift down on its own accord. Her view of Sawyer was momentarily blocked. When she saw Sawyer again the woman was topless and squirming to get her pants off quickly. Deni was slightly disappointed she didn't get to remove the clothing herself.

“You in a hurry or something?” Deni said in a mocking tone of voice.

“Sure, why not.” Sawyer replied evenly.

“If you don't want to do this then you don't have to,” Deni began to have second thoughts.

“No, it's fine. I won't say it's rape if that's what you're worried about. I took my clothes off myself. Even started a romantic fire. I'm a tiny bit drunk so this is closer to a date than it is to an assault.”

“Except I broke into your home, beat you up, cut off your toe, and robbed your husband,” Deni listed her offences.

“Okay, a really bad date. But, at least you've had your hands on me more than Raphael has in the last six months.”

Deni couldn't resist the taunt, “Our husband not holding up his end of the marital responsibilities?”

“He's probably cheating on us, don't you think? So many bank accounts, so many trips lasting weeks at a time, so many secrets; it stands to reason,” Sawyer said as she awkwardly lowered herself to the newly made nest of pillows and blanket on the floor, “it's most likely, he's got somebody in every city he travels to. Ha, I'm probably not even sloppy seconds. Most likely just a forgotten leftover.”

Deni watched Sawyer stretch out across the blanket at her feet. Despite the bruises and cuts, Sawyer was unbroken. She possessed a dignity Deni doubted she had ever experienced in her own life. It made Deni hungry to taste somebody so strong. She stripped off her clothes with such urgency she tore the seams. Once starkly naked, Deni straddled Sawyer and squatted with her head toward Sawyer's feet. She dumped the contents of the velvet bag between Sawyer's spread thighs.

“You got a nice ass,” Sawyer mentioned as she began to caress the rounded flesh.

“Thanks,” Deni mumbled and lubed up the butt plug. “You ready or you need some warming up?”

Sawyer chuckled but answered, “Just fuck me now.”

“Okay,” Deni agreed and a grin crept across her face.

Deni's heavily coated middle finger began to tease Sawyer's puckered hole. She pressed and withdrew according to the moans and sighs her actions created. She bit lip to hold back a whimper when Sawyer's lips bestowed sweet kisses to her upturned ass. When Sawyer's tongue swept around her own puckered hole, Deni shoved the plug deep into Sawyer's darkness. Sawyer merely grunted and continued probing Deni's ass with her tongue.

Deni could resist no longer. She tucked into Sawyer's sex and sucked in the ample juices waiting there. Long and slow strokes got Sawyer's fingers digging into Deni's pussy but her tongue never slacked off with her divided attention. Deni's eyes squeezed tightly closed and stars flashed. Breaking for air, she gasped mutely with no strength for words. Sawyer skewered her sending a jolt of sweet pain through Deni's trembling body. Deni fumbled to recover the vibrator and shoved it deep into Sawyer's sopping cunt. It took all Deni had left to depress the button sending the toy into a buzzing frenzy of life.

“Oh fuck!” Sawyer screamed.

“Exactly,” Deni sighed as she rested her cheek against Sawyer's sweaty thighs and breathed in the sweet smell of the other woman's orgasm.

A tap on Deni's shoulder got her head turning before her brain kicked back into gear. Her eyes widened with the name her mouth was about to speak.

“Eugene?”

“Yep!”

His fist smashed into her jaw sending her world to darkness and her body tumbling over, freeing Sawyer at last.

Chapter 10

The only thing that surprised Deni about the slapping sound was the absence of pain which followed it. When the meaty part of another person's hand connects solidly with the usually soft skin of a face, it hurts. But, Deni felt no ill effect from the blows she could clearly hear. In fact, she didn't feel the blows at all as she struggled back to consciousness.

“Hope that asshole didn't fracture my spine with his sucker punch. Cheap shot, Eugene, even for you,” Deni thought as she shook her head to rattle her senses back to work.

Deni was still naked but now duct taped to a chair. Next to her was an equally naked and duct taped Sawyer. Directly in front of Sawyer, Eugene stood in a bright white button up, dress shirt with the cuffs folded back twice. Still, blood stains had managed to mare the sleeves. Deni squinted a little and saw blotches of blood on his expensively tailored black slacks.

The thought sprang up on it's own in Deni's mind, “Mortician look.”

“Please, stop hitting me,” Sawyer choked on her tears.

Eugene chuckled and slapped her again. “Sure thing, babe. As soon as you tell me where my money is, I'll stop smacking you! Now where the fuck is my money!”

Eugene accentuated the last word by backhanding Sawyer. Her head snapped to the left sending a splash of blood arcing through the air. Several warm droplets rained on Deni's cheek.

“Knock it off, tough guy,” Deni croaked. “I'll tell you where your cash is.”

“Oh, wife number one rejoins our family reunion. Did you have a nice nap, sweetheart?” Eugene crooned.

“Delightful. Thanks for tucking me in.” Deni sneered a little, “Now, how ‘bout untying me. I'll tell you where your cash is and be on my way. You and the missus can sort our your marital issues on your own. Don't need a third wheel getting in the way of true love and all.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Eugene nearly growled. “If you're not going to tell me where my cash is then I don't want to hear from you.”

“Sawyer transferred the money into my account with Citi. It's under the name Agnes Moorehead. The account number is in my pant's pocket,” Deni nodded to the clothes still piled on the floor. “Maybe you could let us get dressed before you do your banking.”

Eugene's shoulders sagged. “As you can see, Sawyer, I didn't marry Deni for her mind. It was her kick ass body that got me to the alter. That and she fucked like a mule in heat. But, she is one of the dumber cunts I've ever screwed.”

Deni stared drop jawed at Sawyer. Sawyer seemed almost as disappointed as Eugene.

“I didn't call my bank. I called Eugene. He was at the gallery all along. Not out of the country. We heard about your untimely drowning before the news stations did. Eugene figured you were making a run for it.” Sawyer explained patiently. “You took me for some kind of bumpkin. I'm not. I knew who you where all along. We just didn't think you'd be dumb enough to walk in the back door. Thought you'd be smarter than letting yourself get cornered. Pretty stupid coming here, Deni.”

Deni spat back, “Stupid? You think I'm stupid? Well, I'm not the one limping around with nine toes, am I?”

“Oh don't start bragging yet, I can remedy your extra toe situation anytime I want,” Eugene made the claim like a promise.

“Fuck you!”

“No thanks. Been there, screwed your twat twice too many times. Besides, from the look of things when I walked in, you seem to have gone over to the other team,” Eugene smirked.

“Desperate times makes for desperate measures.” Deni grinned, “And, your wife fucks like a whore. Her pussy was running like a facet. Maybe she's been loving her vibrator more than your stubby little dick stick.”

The subsequent backhand was well earned, Deni decided as her vision clouded with stars. Her eardrum had definitely ruptured and her jaw just might have cracked but the pain was worth it. Even Eugene's foul breath huffing in her face when he wrapped his fingers around her throat didn't wipe the grin from her lips.

“Did I hit a nerve?” Deni choked around his strangle hold.

Eugene snarled and nearly spit his reply. “You always had a big fucking mouth. Now what did you do with my money? Quit fooling around and tell me or I'll get my power drill and start ventilating your kneecaps.”

“Sweet talker,” Deni hissed.

“Wrong answer,” Eugene grudgingly released his hold. “I'll be right back. You two wait right here.”

Eugene ran a shaky hand through his salt and pepper hair. He took a deep breath before walking away from the bound women. He disappeared into the kitchen and the distinctive sounds of trudging down a flight of wooden steps filled the silence.

“He's not bluffing. He's going to really hurt us. Tell him where the money is before he cripples you,” Sawyer said in a low voice.

Deni laughed causing her companion to hush her. “Nice try. Good cop, bad cop, and stupid criminal. Only one problem with your fake out; I don't know what you did with the money, Sawyer. So, you better tell him. How far do you think he'll work me over before he realizes it was you who diverted the cash?”

“I did no such thing!” Sawyer strained against the heavy tape holding her to the chair. “The money should still be in the shared GMT account but it's not. What did you do? You sent it some place else. It could only have been you. Where'd you send it? Tell him before he does something I'll regret.”

Heavy foot falls sounded from the basement stairs. A soft whistle rose with Eugene's ascent.

“He certainly is a man who enjoys his work,” Deni noted grimly.

“You're an asshole, you know that? A real asshole,” Sawyer countered and settled back into her chair.

Eugene reentered the room. He stopped at the doorway and observed his prisoners for a moment. With a light press, the cordless drill in his hand buzzed to life.

“Okay, one potato, two potato who goes first?” Eugene asked with a broad smile.

Sawyer let out a soft sob. “Please, baby, I don't know what she did. Why would I call you if I hid the money? It doesn't make sense for me to play games with you. I've got too much to lose,”

“If you mean my idiot son then no worries there. I never planned on taking him with me when I moved onward to bigger and better things. Keep him. He likes you better than me anyway. He's always trying to bite me,” Eugene noted as he examined an old scar on his hand.

“I knew he was a good kid,” Deni interjected. “He's smart too. Smart enough to realize what a complete tool you are.”

“I guess that means Deni goes first because she so chatty,” Eugene strode across the room with purpose. “Here are the rules. Once I start drilling, I won't stop until I hit bone. Even if you tell me who killed Kennedy, I'll keep going until I make a nice little dimple in the bone. So, it would be best if you tell me what I want before the drill starts. Otherwise, you got to wait for a break in the action.” Eugene clarified, “Of course, you might pass out but I have smelling salts and ice and if push comes to shove I can keep the interrogation going the rest of the day and night and most of tomorrow.”

Deni glared at him but said nothing.

“Have it your way,” Eugene began to hum as he knelt at Deni's feet. “Let's start with that big toe you were bragging about.”

“Eugene, she's not going to talk. Let's try to bargain with her and cut our losses,” Sawyer said with a hint of panic entering her tone. “Come on, you tied this too tight. Cut me free and let's just talk about it.”

Eugene glanced up at Sawyer and tisked. “And here I thought Deni was the dope. Smartin' up, Sawyer. You're next. I don't buy for one minute you being an innocent bystander. If she got at that much money then you broke with the script and used the wrong account. Five point eight million, my ass! You were suppose to use the New Hampshire bank and keep the cap down to five hundred thousand. I would've let her walk with that much. That would have been a bargain.”

“Wait, wait, we only moved two point five not five point eight,” Deni tried to clarify.

“See,” Eugene said with a happy smirk, “it had to be you. Deni's too stupid to even figure out how much she stole.”

The drill buzzed to life. The pain was instantaneous. Deni screaming like a school girl. She was taped too tightly to the chair to do anything else. The drill sent bits of toe nail and skin and blood skyward. It easily hit the bone and passed through cleanly to the hard wood beneath.

“Son of a bitch!” Eugene exclaimed. “Now I'm gonna have to re-sand the damn floor.”

Deni was gasping for breath. Tears poured form her eyes. She felt her stomach flip and knot before flipping again.

“I'm gonna puke.”

“Who cares?” Eugene said as he stood. “Now, where is my money?” The only reply was Deni's sobs. “Okay, kneecap time.”

“Tell him where you put it, Sawyer!” Deni managed to shout. “It hurts like a bastard. You'll wish he only hacked your toe off. So, tell him!”

“This is fuckin' ridiculous! I don't have a friggin' clue what she did with the money. Eugene, for Christ's sakes, what are you gonna do? Kill her?”

He paused and thought about the question. “First, I'll cripple her. Then, I'll cripple you. Then, I'll kill you both.”

“Jesus! Tell him where the money is!” Sawyer screamed as she struggled against the duct tape.

Deni heard the urgency. “You really don't know, do you?”

Sawyer shook her head.

“Seriously?”

Sawyer shook her head.

“Something's wrong, Eugene. I mean something's really wrong ‘cause I don't know where the money went and Sawyer doesn't either,” Deni tried to calmly explain. “Who else could be involved? Any ideas?”

Eugene fingered the drill again. “Don't try to con me. There's nobody else. Just me and my bitches.”

“And me,” the voice behind them startled everybody but Sawyer.

“It's about fucking time,” Sawyer slumped in her chair.

Officer Catley was casually dressed in jeans and a pull over sweater. She strolled across the room with a gun pointed directly at Eugene. A slow smile spread across her face.

“Sorry for the delay, babe. The staties had lots of questions about the drowned prisoner. Apparently, her body will never be recovered with what I saw happen to it. Grisly end, getting hacked up in the mill's hydro wheel. They figure the bigger chunks of her got sucked down the drainage pipe. Of course, the smaller bits will get eaten by fish or algae or some sort of friggin' sea creatures in the cesspool of a water treatment plant,” Catley made a sour face. “Now Eugene, eject the power pack from the drill and toss it over toward the fireplace.”

Eugene complied before asking, “I'm gonna guess this is the part where one of them gets untied but I don't know which one you're working with. So, who's the brains of the operation?”

“She's right,” Sawyer hummed. “You are a tool. You two kind of deserve each other, you know that? But, Deni does fuck like a mule in heat. I'll give her that. Eugene, you should have paid more attention to her moves. Maybe I wouldn't have gotten bored with you.”

“Oh fuckin' no way!” Deni exclaimed. “You, you set this up? What the fuck for? You got more money than you need. You got the kid. You got the guy. What more do you want?”

Sawyer waited for Eugene to sliced through the tape freeing her shoulders and left hand. She grabbed the knife from him and easily released her right hand. Leaning forward, she cut her ankles loosed with a sigh of relief.

“That's better. Now, what were you asking? Why? Oh yes, you two would need an explanation because you'd never figure things out on your own. Okay, nobody ever has enough money. Especially, rich people. So, five point eight million was really tempting. And, Eugene had grown tiresome but a divorce would cost me money, time and, maybe, Charlie. He's too much to risk to chance.”

“Please tell me you really care about Charlie and he's not part of the con,” Deni nearly begged.

“I do care about Charlie. No con there. He's my son.” Sawyer assured. “So, I did some checking around and found Officer Catley here. She was kind enough to make nice with you and help you plot your escape.”

“Wasn't easy,” Catley snorted. “You are thick as a brick, Tyler. I thought I'd have to draw you a diagram. Wait, I did draw you a diagram. You thought you tricked me into helping you when I was the one playing you. Dope!”

Deni frowned in dismay. “I thought we had something going. Thought we were gonna take off together with some cash.”

“Oh, we're gonna take off and I'm gonna get some cash but there ain't no together, bitch. As far as cash, better luck next time,” Catley taunted.

Sawyer got up and limped over to her clothes. “Don't be stupid, Sheryl. I'm giving each of them a little cash for a stake. Get them out of my hair and keep them out of my hair. Five hundred thousand each should be good enough to send you on your way, don't you think?”

“Babe,” Eugene started to speak.

“Don't babe me,” Sawyer growled and tugged on her sweat pant despite the pain in her foot. “This is the cover story. No editing. Raphael is flying off to Paris tonight. He'll never return. I'll alert the state department but the trail will grow cold. His lover, Sheryl, will remain in Europe searching for him but, sadly, he'll never be found. Will Sheryl ever return to the United States?” Sawyer asked Catley knowingly.

“No, she won't,” Catley grinned. “She's going to Cape Verde. No extradition in Cape Verde.”

“Nice,” Sawyer observed. “Eugene, you and Deni need new identities. There's a guy's number programmed into your cell under the name Elizabeth Montgomery.”

“Hey, that's funny,” Deni chuckled. “Somebody want to cut me loose now.”

Sawyer nodded to Eugene. He carefully picked up the knife and sliced the duct tape open to free Deni.

“So, we just walk away now?” Deni asked.

“Get dressed then limp away. The cash is in two gym bags in the trunk of Eugene's car. Sheryl, your stuff is in my MG. Key's in the ignition. You need to get to the airport. So go now.”

“Just like that,” Eugene sounded disappointed.

“Yes,” Sawyer said and headed for the stairs. “In twenty minutes the police will be here because of my silent alarm. They'll find me upstairs passed out from the pain of my assault at the hands of three unknown intruders. I think they stole my sports car or maybe my husband's Mercedes. I'm a bit delirious so they'll put out an APB for both, I'm sure.” Sawyer paused at the foot of the stairs. “I suggest you get moving if you don't want to get arrested. I have a back up plan if any of you get caught.”

Sawyer watched her three guests spring into action to leave her home.

* * *

When Deni pushed Sawyer's bedroom door open five nights later, she was not surprised to be staring down the barrel of a Magnum. She kept her hands up with her palm open. Sawyer was on the bed with her bandaged foot elevated on a pillow. Even though her face seemed drawn with fatigue and pain, she was steady with the gun's aim.

“Why would you come back?” Sawyer sounded weary.

“Couldn't figure out what you needed me for. You could have done the same scam easier without me. Why'd you trick me into coming here?” Deni stopped walking when she reached the foot of the bed.

Sawyer lowered her weapon before answering. “Two reasons. First, you knew Eugene a lot longer than me. I wanted to see if you'd turn up any other bank accounts. You did, by the way. I only found eight. Nice work. You even did better coming up with a couple of his passwords. Again, nice work.”

Deni nodded. “What's the second reason?”

“I wanted to meet Charlie's mom. I wanted to make sure I was the better option for him than his birth parents.”

“Are you?”

“I think I am,” Sawyer said. “You love him but I don't know if that's enough.”

“You talking about money?”

Sawyer shook her head. “No, I'm talking about courage, bravery, responsibility, morality…”

“Morality? You just robbed a guy.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Sawyer shrugged. “But, that guy made the money robbing other people. Me included. I'm not saying what I did was good but it was better than what you and Eugene were doing.”

“Sounds like you're rationalizing,” Deni said.

“I am,” Sawyer readily agreed.

“So, what now?”

Sawyer answered, “I already told you what to do; leave.”

Deni nodded but did not move. “What if I want to stay?”

“You think that's an option?” Sawyer snorted.

“No,” Deni eased onto the bed but kept her hands up, “I'm hoping it might be an option but I don't know for sure.”

Sawyer chuckled. “How's your foot?”

“I got orthopedic shoes. It feels pretty good in them. Of course, the shot of Novocain I gave myself an hour again may have a role in my limited pain at the moment.” Deni crawled up the length of the bed to lay next to Sawyer. “I also got peroxide to dye my hair tomorrow. And, contacts to change my eye color.”

“How ‘bout ID? You got any ID?” Sawyer asked as she leaned over and put the gun back on the nightstand.

Deni pulled a wallet form her back pocket and removed a neatly folded birth certificate. “Meet Clara Peller of the Brooklyn Pellers. Brooklyn, Iowa that is. I've had the most dreadful luck of late with husbands. I decided I should spend time with my only living realative; my cousin, Sawyer Thayer-Roman. She's just getting over a husband of her own.”

“You don't say,” Sawyer chuckled.

“Dreadful man. Ran out on her with some slag guard from the penal system.”

“What a lowlife,” Sawyer actually laughed and settled back into the soft pillows. “Is Clara staying long?”

Deni snuggled closer to Sawyer and was rewarded with the woman curling into her embrace. “Well, it was going to be a short visit. Six or seven months at the most but my poor abandoned cousin has a child and needs my support. Emotional and monitary, of course. I've recently come into a bit of money.”

“Have you?” Sawyer giggled and began to brush light kisses along Deni's throat. “It wouldn't by chance be about five hundred thousand dollars, would it?”

Deni shook her head. “Oh no. Twice that amount. Some careless man took the wrong bag out of my trunk at the airport.”

“Aren't you afraid he'll come looking for his bag,” Sawyer asked with a small amount of concern.

“No, not really. I saw him get on his flight to Paris with a one way ticket and not a dollar in his wallet. Oops, I mean my wallet now. Poor man doesn't even have his passport. He's going to have his hands full when they open his suitcase at customs and find all that pot stashed in his socks and he won't be able to tell them who he's suppose to be or where he's suppose to be from He was going to study his documents on the plane.” Deni stopped long enough to place a warm kiss on Sawyer's lips. “Nope, I think we've seen the last of Raphael and his evil twin Eugene.”

Sawyer grinned and whispered. “Well, I guess this means you're not so dumb after all but then again, it doesn't actually matter. I'm not really interested in your brains tonight.”

Deni reach between them and fingered Sawyer's pussy. “Oh, so you don't want me for my mind either.”

“Definitely not,” Sawyer moaned when Deni's long fingers reached inside her. “Now shut up and pick it up from where you were just before you got popped you in the mouth.”

“This is such a better plan. I guess there really was no need to kill Eugene after all.”

The End

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