To Part 20
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Controlling an acid reply, Peter ground out, "I had a lot on my mind." He took a drag from his cigarette and couldn't resist adding sarcastically, "Thanks for your concern about my health."
"Oo-o-o. Attitude so early in the morning, Detective? I thought I warned you about flipping me attitude."
Peter inwardly gulped. {Kermit said keep them talking. If I piss them off, they'll cut the connection or hurt Kacie again, or both.} Rubbing a hand over tired eyes, he apologized, "I'm sorry. I have a headache and I'm a little fuzzy today."
"You're a little scraggly today, too. What? Lost your razor?"
Peter studied the face before him, unable to make out anything about the facial features but the mouth and the cold black eyes. He was startled out of his reverie when the face on the screen snapped at him, "It's very rude not to answer someone's direct question. I don't like it when people are rude to me. You know, I'm getting irritated. You do remember what happened the last time you irritated me, don't you?"
Peter paled and stammered, "No-no-no. I'm sorry I was rude. I-I was just…I don't know. Can't seem to get my head straight this morning. Shave? I guess I just forgot. Sometimes shaving every day gets to be a real drag." He brought the cigarette to his lips and puffed nervously.
"When did you take up smoking, Detective? I thought that you were Mr. Clean even before you got married."
Peter shrugged and inhaled deeply again. "Nervous habit. Used to smoke all the time when I was younger." He shrugged. "Maybe the pressure of everything is getting to me. Job. Wife. Kid." He felt his gut twist and tried to ask casually, "You said last night that I could see my wife this morning? Does that offer still hold?"
"I believe the catch word was 'maybe'."
"I would really appreciate it if you would be so kind as to let me see her," Peter spoke politely and in subdued tones. Inwardly his mind was screaming, {Let me talk to her, you bastard!}
"Well, since you've asked so nicely."
The figure moved out of sight, and for one panicked moment Peter thought the session was over. Darting a look at Kermit, he asked, "Anything?"
Kermit was frowning in concentration, sweat beading his brow and upper lip. "I got into a server based in Mainland China, and now I'm contacting that server to find out who's using this particular URL address. The perp has got to be tapping into various phone lines for this, because I don't believe for one minute that Kacie's in Beijing."
Peter opened his mouth to ask another question, but movement and sound from his own computer captured his attention once again.
He nearly cried with relief and then reddened angrily as the figure in black ushered in Kacie. His wife's hands were tied together and she walked with a shuffling, unsteady gait because of hobbles on her ankles. For a few seconds, the analytical part of Peter's brain was able to realize the camera was moving along with the action. {There's at least one more person involved with this.}
Kacie's face was pale, and her hair disheveled. A fresh bruise was purpling on her cheek and there was a cut on her lip. "Peter," she quavered, struggling bravely not to cry. "I'm-I'm OK."
Peter stared at her, unable to trust himself to speak. {She's got one of her headaches. I can tell by the way her eyes are squinting. Oh, God, and there's not a damn thing I can do for her.}
He watched Kacie turn her head to look at her captor. "Will you let me see him? Please?"
The voice off-screen was sarcastic. "My, my, my, aren't we polite this morning? Sure. What the hell. Sit down at the computer and look at the screen."
The camera followed Kacie over to the monitor, becoming stationary after she sat down, the lens zooming in to get a close-up of her face.
Peter's hand tightened around his coffee mug and his voice quivered. "Got a bad one this morning, don't you, Kacie?"
Kacie smiled thinly. "I could really use a cup of your father's tea here." She drank in his face, memorizing every feature. "You don't look so hot yourself, PC."
The hand on the mug was shaking and the knuckles were turning white as he asked, "What happened to your face?"
"I-I fell last night when, when…" Her voice trailed off and she looked down.
Peter's eyes moistened and he choked out, "I'm sorry about that. I had no idea anything would happen to you."
The voice broke in. "OK, enough talk. Conversation over."
A hand reached for Kacie, grabbing a handful of hair, pitilessly jerking her head and snapping it back before dragging her to her feet as she yelped in pain.
"Stop it!" Peter yelled, involuntarily rising from his chair. "Stop it! You're hurting her!"
The figure in black stared at the camera, hand still twisted in Kacie's hair. "Hurting her? You think this is hurting her? Would you like to see what hurt is? Just keep telling me what to do!" The figure released Kacie's hair and shoved her roughly to her knees. A gun magically appeared in the black-gloved hand. "One more word from either of you without my permission, and she is dead. You hear me? She's dead!"
Peter sank back into his chair as the black-garbed stranger readied the gun with an ominous click and jabbed it against Kacie's temple.
"So-o-o," the voice drawled menacingly. "You two like to talk so much. What have you got to say now?"
Kacie rocked back on her heels, head bowed, her breath coming in short, frightened gasps.
The gun poked at Kacie's head again, causing her to flinch. "I said, what have you got to say now?"
Kacie lifted her head and looked directly into the camera lens, eyes huge and dark in her white face. "I love you, Peter." Her head dropped again, hair falling like a curtain across her face as she waited for whatever was to come.