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  He reached in and pulled out stacks of books. They looked girly to Anthony, and he wondered who would have them in an office. He picked one up and tossed it onto the mattress. Cassandra leaned forward and picked it up.

  "Wow," she sounded happy for the first time. "This is one of my favorites."

  Anthony wasn't surprised. She looked like a bookworm to him. He stood there and watched her expression. He realized she didn't look like a nerdy bookworm, but someone with a good education. "What's it about?" he asked.

  Cassandra told him, but he only pretended to listen. "My father didn't like me reading this when I was younger. I had a copy with me at boarding school until someone ratted me out."

  Anthony paused his search through the boxes and looked at her. "He sent you away to school? Is that why you lived in Europe?"

  Cassandra looked down as if shamed by her father's actions. "Yes. He said it was because I didn't have a mother to watch over me, and he worked a lot."

  Anthony knew she didn't believe the lie any more than he did. Cassandra read and he dug deeper into the boxes. They were filled with junk, but it gave him something to do. Cassandra screamed. Anthony glanced up and found her tossing the book onto the floor. A spider ran out from beneath it. He laughed at her and continued snooping.

  After moving the boxes, Anthony found a tarp that covered more items. He assumed there were more boxes but was wrong. He found a safe, an old refrigerator, and a television. Bingo, he thought.

  He picked up the TV and walked it to an outlet near the bed. Cassandra looked bewildered. "If this works," he said, "we'll have something to do."

  The television turned on but without cable, it didn't pick up any channels. Anthony left it on and rechecked the unopened boxes for an antenna. Cassandra stared at the snowy screen and covered her ears. He didn't mind when she stood up and lowered the volume. A few minutes later, Anthony found an old-fashioned pair of rabbit ears and hoped it would work.

  Cassandra smiled when a picture appeared. It wasn't the greatest reception, but it worked. Anthony changed the channel to search for something better but couldn't find another. He put it back on the only channel it received but frowned when he realized it aired a daytime soap opera.

  She watched the show, but Anthony could tell she wasn't into it. Cassandra picked the book up again but shook it over the side of the mattress before reading it. Anthony thought about turning the TV off. They weren't watching it and he thought it could be a risk if someone walked by the building. An urgent news report interrupted the show and changed his thoughts.

  "Police are still on the lookout for 32-year-old, Anthony Flint, who escaped from the state penitentiary early Tuesday morning." Cassandra snapped her head upright and her jaw dropped. Anthony's mug shot appeared on the screen. "The suspect is reported to be armed and dangerous. He was last spotted-"

  He ran to the other side of the room and pulled the plug. His foot came up and kicked the TV until it fell over, shattering the screen. Cassandra jumped up and backed herself into the corner.

  He didn't mean to scare her, although, he was sure the newscast scared her more. The boss would kill him if he found out. "You don't need to see that," he said to her.

  She sat on the bed, pulled her knees into her chest and shivered. "What did you do?"

  "I broke the television," he played dumb to avoid the question.

  "I meant to go to prison." She rocked back and forth but didn't take her eyes off him. He wanted her to trust him, but the truth would alarm her.

  "Murder," was all he could say.

  Cassandra curled up into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Chapter 7

  "There was nobody there. I didn't see anyone," Cassandra chanted over and over. She ran her fingers through her hair and held her head as she rocked back and forth. She took her pulse. There wasn't a clock around, but Cassandra knew her heart beat right out of her chest and her anxiety levels rose fast. "There was nobody there. I didn't see anyone."

  Anthony left with a small plastic bag. She heard the door lock behind him but this time she felt relieved to be left alone. He killed someone, and she feared she would be next.

  Her face flushed in the hot basement. "There was nobody there. I didn't see anyone," she continued to convince herself.

  "What the fuck are you mumbling over there?" Anthony barged into the room and questioned her.

  He stood by the door and looked up. He bleached his hair, and she wondered how he did it without running water. Cassandra didn't notice the white washed-out marks on the shirt until he pulled it off his body.

  She couldn't help but stare at the ripples in his abdomen and the trail of hair leading down into his low-cut jeans. The sight of his half naked, toned body produced moisture in her panties. He's a killer, Cassandra cursed herself. She wished she could control her hormones and eased when he put on another T-shirt.

  "I asked you a question." He howled.

  She shook her head. Cassandra thought it was none of his business and didn't want to tell him. Anthony dragged his chair toward her and straddled it. He waited for an answer, but she wouldn't give him one. Cassandra's body trembled, and she knew what would still her. Finally, she replied to him. "If I had my pills, I would be calmer."

  "Fuck no." Anthony answered. She snapped her head up and listened to him. "I'll tell you why you can't have them, if you tell me what you've been mumbling."

  "There was nobody there. I didn't see anyone." Cassandra repeated, loud enough for him to hear.

  Anthony leaned toward her and grinned. "That's why you can't have those pills."

  Cassandra was confused and protested. "What?" she squeaked.

  "I was there, Cassandra." Anthony spoke to her with a straight face and she realized he knew what she meant by her words.

  "No. No. No. This can't be," she babbled. Everything flashed in front of her eyes; her mother's death, the man with blue eyes, and her entire life of being told he didn't exist. "They told me it was my imagination. There was nobody there."

  "They said that to convince you. They pumped you with medication to alter your memory." Anthony leaned closer to her and sent goosebumps down her spine. Cassandra couldn't figure him out.

  "Why?" Her sobs blossomed to ugly crying.

  "If I saved you, behind the crime scene, that would mean I couldn't have-"

  Cassandra jumped to conclusions and interrupted. "Oh my God! You killed my mother." She rolled over to the other side of the mattress and jumped off the bed. Anthony reached for her, tried to calm her, but she swatted his hands away. Sweat poured down her face and droplets fell into her cleavage.

  He stepped around the bed, closer to her. "Listen to me," he insisted but she couldn't even look at him. Anthony gripped her shoulders. His fingers dug into her skin. "Listen," he spoke again, in a softer tone.

  His words gave her an idea. Cassandra quickly inhaled and looked toward the window. She stared across the room like a deer caught in headlights. Anthony noticed. He turned his head with a questionable brow. "Someone's here," Cassandra whispered.

  She called for help, but Anthony placed his hand over her mouth. Her plan was working, but she needed to carry on making it seem real. She continued to cry for someone beneath his sweaty palm. Anthony's ears perked, listening for a sound. He let go of her and raced toward the door. Cassandra heard the lock from the other side and knew he would be back soon.

  There wasn't much time, she told herself and ran to the other side of the room. The drawer on the table was locked but the table was frail. She picked up a chunk of broken cinder block and pounded it against the drawer. A piece of wood broke off, and she could pry it a little more. All she needed was room for her hand.

  Cassandra felt around. It had only been a minute since Anthony went outside, but it seemed like much more. She pulled out her cell phone and pressed the speed dial. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," she panicked.

  "Hello," Cassandra's father answered.

  "Daddy, I need help," she b
reathed into the phone.

  "Cassandra? I thought you were in Greece."

  "No. There's a man. He kidnapped me. He killed Mom. I need your-"

  Anthony knocked the phone out of her hand. She tried so hard to get help, and didn't hear him re-enter the room. Cassandra could hear her father call her name. Anthony threw the phone down and stomped on it. She screamed as loud as she could and backed herself into a corner. Anthony picked the cell off the floor and turned the power off.

  "What the fuck did you do?" He screamed at her, louder than he ever had. "Do you realize what you've done."

  Cassandra's breathing was quick, and her pulse raced. "I need my dad," She tried to say and hoped he understood.

  Anthony pressed her body into the wall. His shoulder pinned her already sore arm in place. Cassandra feared he would strangle her, and she squeezed her eyes shut. The next thing she knew, her body flung to the floor and landed on a broken piece of glass. She grabbed her leg and noticed blood dripping through a rip in her jeans.

  "Holy shit, girl," he continued yelling. "You have no idea."

  Cassandra stood, she stumbled back to the mattress and flopped down. Her body ached all over as she crawled back to the wall. She looked at Anthony, afraid of what he'd do next, but instead of coming at her to attack again, he sat at the table.

  She watched as he pulled his flip phone from his pocket. "We have a problem," he spoke as his eyes focused on her. Cassandra knew that meant trouble for her.

  Chapter 8

  Anthony grabbed her cell phone and keys and shoved them in his pocket. She shivered on the bed, watching his every move, but tried to roll away as he reached for her. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and yanked her off the bed. Cassandra resisted as much as she could, but he pulled her across the room and out the door.

  The boss instructed Anthony to get her out of the area. He wanted to kick himself for leaving her side and thinking he could trust her. It never occurred to him she'd try to use her phone. "Stupid mistake," he mumbled to himself as he led her down the hallway, up the basement stairs, and out a side door of the building.

  "You said you wouldn't hurt me," Cassandra pleaded. Anthony looked down at her raw wrists but didn't ease up on his grip.

  Anthony ignored her and forced her to walk beside him. The gun poked at her side and Cassandra obeyed. He led her across a field and entered a woodland area. Anthony glanced around as they fled out of sight and hoped nobody saw them. He felt her dig her feet into the ground as soon as they were in the thick of the woods. Anthony looked to her feet and almost felt bad to see her barefoot. He took her shoes off the day he brought her to the basement, assuming she couldn't run without them. "You have nobody to blame for your pain," he snapped at her.

  Cassandra cried as he held her tighter and forced her through the harsh brush. He knew the escape car was nearby, parked it there himself after taking her unconscious body to the basement. He needed to make sure he had easy access to it, but it had to stay where anyone searching for her, or him, wouldn't see. As soon as they reached it, he barked. "Get inside and move over."

  Anthony cocked the gun, telling her not to get any ideas about trying to get out the passenger side. Minutes later, the car made its way out to the road and he drove opposite of the building.

  ~~~~

  They drove around for more than an hour. The boss told Anthony he would call back with a plan. Anthony looked at the flip phone he placed in the console and hoped it would ring. He didn't understand what took so long. The boss called the shots, long before he abducted Cassandra, and Anthony didn't understand why a backup hideaway wasn't thought of before.

  He looked down at the gas gauge and slapped his hand against the steering wheel. "Fuck," he said as he noticed they were down to a quarter of a tank. He didn't know how much longer he could drive around.

  "We wouldn't be driving around without a plan if you stayed in prison where you belong," Cassandra snapped.

  Anthony couldn't believe he liked her. She turned into a bitch the minute she assumed he killed her mother. "We wouldn't be driving around if you stayed on the bed where you belonged and kept your hands off that God damned phone of yours."

  "You're going to get caught and my father and I will make sure you get put back behind bars," she spit back.

  Anthony positioned himself to backhand her but flashing red and blue lights behind him distracted him from his thoughts. "Shit," he murmured. He pulled the car over and shoved his gun between the seats. "You say a word, and he's dead."

  Cassandra shut her eyes and turned her head. Anthony knew she wanted no one to die because of her. He glanced at her then turned toward the open window toward the police officer.

  "License and registration," the officer said.

  Anthony slowly raised his hands. "They're both in the glove box," he told the officer. The cop nodded as he retrieved the fake papers. He handed them to the officer and smiled at Cassandra. "Is there a problem, Sir?"

  "No. You were swerving. Have you been drinking?"

  Anthony felt a flood of relief when he realized the officer wasn't suspicious. "No Sir," he answered. "My girlfriend fell earlier, and I must have swerved when I looked over to check to see how she's feeling."

  Cassandra turned to face the officer. She looked like she'd been in a worse accident than just taking a fall, but the officer doesn't appear to think otherwise. "Is this true, Ma'am?"

  She nodded her head before speaking. "Yes sir. I missed a step and tumbled down the basement stairs."

  Anthony couldn't believe she went with it and the officer bought it. "You should get that looked at," the cop said as he handed the papers back to Anthony.

  "No insurance," Anthony stated.

  The officer nodded again. He glanced down at the fake ID and registration in Anthony's hand. "Michael Smith, common name," he snorted.

  "Well as they say, I can't choose my parents." Anthony regret the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.

  "You look familiar," the officer said. "Take your shades off, son."

  Anthony heard Cassandra take a deep breath, like all her troubles were about to go away. He didn't want to stir the pot, so he listened to what the man said. He reached up to take the sunglasses off and turned to face the cop. Anthony looked at him and said, "Could be because all of us Smiths' are related to each other."

  The officer grinned and tapped the car. "Good point. Drive carefully."

  Anthony looked over at Cassandra as the officer walked back to his squad car. He waited until the officer pulled out into the street and drove away before he started to laugh. "Thank God for colored contact lenses," he burst out. Cassandra huffed in disgust and slouched down in the seat. Anthony regained his bearings, figured out where they were, and then continued to drive to a safe spot.

  Chapter 9

  Cassandra stared out the window as Anthony drove in silence. To her, his silence tormented her more than she would admit. She turned to ask him when he put contact lenses in, but the words wouldn't come out of her mouth. She returned to the window and thought about it. Cassandra was distracted by his abdomen when he changed his shirt and didn't notice any other changes about him. The news report, knowing people were searching for him, must have been what urged him to change his appearance. Cassandra sighed a breath of relief, with the change in his eye color, maybe she could focus on her safety.

  He turned off the highway and descended on a parklike hill. Cassandra stiffened in her seat as she noticed they were out in the middle of nowhere, no houses or businesses nearby. Thoughts of him taking her somewhere private to kill her, crossed her mind. "Where are we going?" She found the courage to ask.

  "If we keep driving around," he answered, "we'll run out of gas. There's a lake down here, not used as much as it used to be. I think we'll be out of sight for a while until my phone rings." He didn't tell her who would call, but Cassandra knew he referred to 'the boss' he spoke of several times
before.

  Several minutes later, he parked the car. Her hand had been laying on the door knob although she hadn't thought of opening it. Anthony reached for the gun, and Cassandra gulped as she removed her hand and placed it on her lap. He continued pointing at her while he reached under the seat. When he sat up, she noticed the roll of rope in his hand. "Please don't," she begged.

  "I can't trust you," he replied as he shook his head.

  Cassandra winced as he tightened the rope around her wrist, swearing it felt tighter than the last time. She cried out as he double knotted her hands together. "You're hurting me," she whined to deaf ears.

  Anthony stepped out of the car and stretched. Cassandra watched as he walked in front of the car and onto her side. "I didn't say you couldn't get any fresh air," he told her as he opened her door. "I don't want you trying to pull a fast one."

  With his help, Cassandra stepped out of the car. She nodded her head toward the water as if asking if she could go near it. Anthony said nothing but kept his eyes on her. She walked to the shore and placed her sore feet in the water, leaned over and splashed water on her dirty face. For a moment, Cassandra felt relieved but knew she wasn't out of danger. She stood up and glanced around. She figured out where they were.

  After she returned to the car, Anthony handed her a bottle of warm water. This time, with tied wrists, she maneuvered the bottle better and drank with ease. Anthony gulped his bottle down and moaned, "I have to take a piss."

  He walked toward the lake when Cassandra made a run for it. She wasn't far from civilization after all and needed to get away from the murderer. Her legs took long strides as her arms clung to her chest. She heard Anthony swear and knew he would catch her, still she had to at least try.