vehicle came in. She had no idea what was beyond the substantial fence, but at least she'd be away from the compound. Moving away from the window, she continued her pacing.
"Think Tiffany. Think!" she said to herself. She remembered Ginger's warning about staying out of sight, and Tiffany agreed that would be the smart thing to do. But her situation was dire. If she stayed in her room to lay low, someone would probably learn her identity. She'd probably be killed in the next day or so, if not sooner.
Then it came to her. She had to disable the cable or satellite dish that provided television to the compound. If there wasn't any TV, it was unlikely anyone would realize the governor's daughter was in their midst. It wasn't a perfect plan, but maybe it would give her enough time to come up with an idea to escape.
Tiffany went to the closet and put on the sneakers she'd worn the first day. Then she searched her room for anything that might aid her in sabotaging the television reception. The only thing she found that might be of any use was a bottle of nail polish remover. She didn't know what she'd use it for, but she put it in a small tote she found in the closet. Maybe on her tour of the property she'd find something more useful.
She was relieved to find she wasn't locked in her room anymore. Either Drejohn or Ginger must trust her. Walking quietly through the house, she resisted the urge to stop and look for a telephone or even tools to help with her mission. She wanted to get outside and do some reconnaissance. Maybe she'd get lucky and the gates would magically open and she could flee. She exited the house through a door she'd seen the other girls use when they had to go to the studio to work.
Even though the sun was rising on the horizon, the heat was oppressive. Trying to appear nonchalant as she walked by the heavy gates, her heart sank with the realization they opened and closed electronically. Not only that, security cameras placed on each side of the entrance would foil her running out the gate unobserved. Her only hope of getting out this way was dashed. You'll have to think of something else.
Switching gears, she proceeded to Part Two of her mission—disable the televisions. Tiffany hadn't seen a single soul during her exploration, and figured she'd be less noticeable once she got near the dorms. After all, girls were constantly coming and going to the studio for the Internet feeds.
Walking quietly, but with confidence, she passed the dorms and was making her way to the maintenance structure where the satellite dish was installed on the roof. A scraping noise caught her attention, and following the noise, she spotted the back of a girl squatting in the dirt using a large stick to dig in the ground. Oblivious to Tiffany's presence, the young woman stabbed at the soil with a vengeance. So as not to scare the girl, Tiffany softly cleared her throat and the girl's head whipped around, causing Tiffany to gasp. The young woman was her friend, Brenda.
"Brenda?"
Tiffany's friend dropped the stick she held and rose to her feet.
Running forward, Tiffany threw her arms around her friend, wincing in pain from the beating she'd given herself the day before. "Oh, my God, I'm so glad to see you! I wondered what happened to you."
"Tiffany?" The girl pulled herself from her friend's grasp. "What are you doing here?"
"Brenda, what's the matter?"
The young woman snorted. "Like you don't know."
"I don't know. What's wrong?"
"That bastard, Drejohn, told me everything."
"Everything about what? I have no idea what you're talking about." Tiffany's eyes welled up with tears of frustration. Why wasn't her friend glad to see her?
Brenda bent back down, picked up the stick and continued scraping at the cement-like soil. "Drejohn told me you knew he went to parties like the one we were at to find girls. He said you sent him to get me away from those other guys."
Tiffany thought back to her friend's drunken state at the party, and the line of young men who'd trotted after her into a bedroom. She remembered Drejohn saying it wasn't a good idea for Brenda to be at the mercy of a bunch of horny guys. Tiffany had wanted to rescue her friend, but Drejohn insisted on getting her. Tiffany hadn't refused, so technically, she did send Drejohn to get Brenda. "Well, you were so wasted, it wasn't safe for you."
"Ha! And you thought it was safer if I was made a sex slave here?" Brenda stopped digging at the ground and lifted her eyes up to Tiffany. "Oh wait, I forgot. You're going to get forty percent of what Drejohn gets for my paid 'performances.' You don't really give a shit about me."
Tiffany was stunned. "I wouldn't do that to you! I'm being held here against my will too."
A flicker of uncertainty flashed in Brenda's eyes. "Then why haven't I seen you in the studio or in the dorms?"
No matter how she put it, this was not going to come out right. Tiffany ran a hand through her hair. "They're holding me in the main house."
Brenda snorted again, went back to stabbing the ground, and shook her head in disbelief.
"Brenda, look at me," Tiffany said, stooping next to her friend. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Do you see these cuts and bruises?" she pulled her top aside so Brenda could see her chest. "I gave these marks to myself in an attempt to get out of here. I had to tell Drejohn that one of his guys tried to rape me."
Wariness washed over Brenda's face. "How would that help you get away?"
"I got caught going through people's clothes looking for a cell phone." Tiffany explained how Tank had caught her and then planned to rape her, and her terrifying escape from him. "I'm walking the property now trying to find a way outta here. Time is running out because no one knows I'm the governor's daughter. Once they find that out, they might ask for a ransom, then, I think they'll kill me."
Brenda's eyes widened at Tiffany's words. "Do you really think they'd do that?"
Tiffany nodded. "Absolutely." She motioned to the ground. "Why are you digging in the dirt?"
Glancing around before speaking, Brenda lowered her voice. "Sometimes I find money lying around. I bury it. I'm hoping to get enough cash to buy my freedom or help me if I escape."
Tiffany threw her arms around Brenda for the second time. "I'm so glad we've found each other. I'm sure together we can figure a way out." After a few seconds, the girls separated. "I don't think anyone should see us together or talking."
Brenda nodded her head. "How are we going to get out of here?"
"I don't know. Why don't we each look around and see if we can find some way to get out of here? Let's meet back here later. Okay?"
"I'll try," Brenda said frowning. "That Drejohn guy keeps saying he's got big plans for me." Her eyes filled with tears. "He said that last night…" She cleared her throat. "I…I had to do five of his friends."
TRAVIS – 49
At loose ends, Travis flipped through television channels at random. There wasn't much housework to do today because he'd been in such a whirlwind yesterday. Sure, he could plan and cook dinner, but that would take all of a half hour. What the hell was he going to do today? The phone ringing interrupted his thoughts. He clicked off the T.V.
"May I speak to Travis please?"
He didn't recognize the voice, and immediately tensed. "Who's calling?"
"This is Angela Stevens. Am I speaking with Travis?"
"Do I know you?"
"Officer Devine, this is Doctor Angela Stevens of Behavioral Sciences Section. I understand that the department wants you to meet with me. Are you free this afternoon, say about two?"
How did this happen? How did he become a member of the 'rubber gun squad'? Sure, he'd been upset after Dave's death, and maybe a little on edge, but they didn't have to order him to the department shrink for God's sake. He just needed a little stress-free time.
"Officer Devine, are you still there?"
The shrink's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm here. Where do I have to go?"
"Actually, I was selected because I work out of our Valley office so you won't have to fight the freeway. Do you have a pencil and paper?"
After getting the
address, he hung up the phone.
This was messed up. When he'd returned to work after Dave's death, he'd seen the uncertainty in the eyes of his fellow S.W.A.T. members, not only in his assigned element, but the other teams as well. They thought he'd lost his edge to go where no sane man would go; barging into situations where some crazed nut was gunning to kill you. His partners thought he was afraid. They thought his courage died when Dave was killed.
They thought he wouldn't notice that instead of being the first one through the door he was now always positioned as the rear guard. They thought he couldn't cut it, couldn't do his job. Someone had dropped a dime on him and now he was assigned to home and mandated to see the department shrink. They all thought wrong. He was still a good cop.
Neither the department nor his S.W.A.T. buddies had any idea of his problems at home. His wife was a shell of the woman he'd married. He knew Maddie had married him, in part, because he was a warrior. She'd expected him to protect her and fix anything that went wrong in their lives. There were some things he couldn't fix, which made him a failure…again.
MADDIE – 50
Pulling into a strip mall, I drove through the congested parking lot searching for a place to park while Darius groaned.
"Why do I think NTL Productions is going to be a P.O. Box in that postal service store over there?"
Giving up my idea that I'd find a space, I parked the unmarked sedan at the red curb of the fire lane. "That's