�No cash, no credit cards, just the ID is here. Looks like a garden variety mugging.�

�Officer, where is the victim?�

�She wasn�t at her apartment, just like you said. So, maybe she went to a girlfriend�s house?�

�No, she didn�t. This is no mugging. A mugger would want the ID to go along with the credit cards. This ID is a message to us to let us know someone has her.� Diane�s hands were shaking slightly as she turned the wallet over in her fingers.

�Who would send that as a message?� the officer squinted down the alley.

�It�s a long story,� Diane sighed.

She couldn�t breathe. Diane walked across the street to get some air. A brightly lit, inviting liquor store stood beckoning to her. Diane�s feet carried her directly to the door. She could see the aisle with Vodka just behind the clerk. One sip. She would buy the smallest bottle so she couldn�t get drunk. One sip would steady her and help her concentrate on the Columbians.

As she reached the door, Diane stumbled and her wallet flew out of her handbag. She leaned over to pick it up, and when she stood, she found herself nose to nose with a pay telephone. A sign from a higher power. She picked up the receiver, dropped in a couple of coins, and dialed.

�Hello, Andy?� Diane cleared her throat to scare off the shaky voice with a growl.

�Hmmm? Diane? Is that you?�

�I�m sorry, you were asleep. I didn�t mean to wake you!�

�S�okay. S�alright. Diane, are you okay?�

�Remember when I promised you that you�d be my first call if I couldn�t sleep like a baby any more?�

�Yeah.�

�I lied. You�re my second call.�

�Where are you? I�ll be right there.�