WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE. If you are offended by such please don’t read those particular words.

Jessie had lost all track of time. She had been in total darkness since she had been jumped after leaving the diner. She didn’t know if it had been hours or days. She didn’t want to sleep because when she did the dreams came. Horrible violent dreams. Surely someone must be looking for her. The beatings had seemed endless and purposeless. She was tied up yet still he still hit her. Sometimes he would even come in and hit her without ever saying a word. Then she had heard him. She was sure it was Trent. He said he would find her. She had to believe that. But she hadn’t heard anyone come in and if Trent had of been there wouldn’t he have helped her? Could she have imagined the whole thing? Helplessness threatened to overwhelm her. She had to believe that Trent and Carlos would find her.

**

"Well, boys, how y’all doin?" It took Butch McMann only a fraction of a second from the time the words left his lips to realize something was very wrong. "What’s wrong? Can I get y’all something to eat?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Just a bucket of ice, please," Carlos told him. Butch finally noticed the swollen, purple mass that used to be Trent’s hand.

"Holy Lord boy, what did y’all do to deserve that?" he questioned as he pulled an ice bucket from under the bar and filled it.

"I punched the wall," Trent muttered, looking impassively at his hand. When he tried to flex his fingers there was no movement.

Placing the bucket on the bar, Butch gingerly took Trent’s hand. Slowly, he tried to move the fingers. What should have elicited screams of pain from Trent produced only a grimace.

"Do I want to know what possessed you to punch a wall?" he asked cautiously, looking over at Carlos. The two detectives exchanged glances, trying to determine where exactly to begin. Jessie had met Trent and Carlos here at the bar below their office, working for Butch. They knew he would feel the same helplessness they did. Without being asked, Butch placed two bottles on the bar and waited expectantly.

Looking at Trent and deciding he was in no condition to repeat the story, Carlos took a deep breath and began. "It’s about Jessie…" he started.

"Carlos, look." Trent was pointing to the television behind Butch. The local 24-hour news station was on. A thirty-something blond woman was speaking.

This station received a video allegedly taken from a web site that claims to be holding a hostage for psychological experiments. This site," she read the address, "was checked out by our computer analyst, Harvey Jones." Turning to face the man in the next seat, she asked, "Harv, is this real or just some kind of stunt?"

"Well Tracy, this certainly is an intriguing site." Behind him, the layout of the site appeared. "A woman is supposedly chained up for everyone to see and is to be the subject of so-called psychological experiments." A huge grin appeared on his face. "It is my opinion that this site is purely entertainment. This woman is undoubtedly a local actress hired to play this part and I recommend that everyone try it out. It should be interesting just how real they will make it. But as far as this being a real hostage, I am completely convinced it is a hoax. Now back to you, Tracy."

Butch turned towards them, recognition mixed with shock on his face. "That was…." But even before he could finish his sentence, Trent had thrown back his beer and stormed away from the bar.

"Yeah, Butch, it was," Carlos said.

"How?…What?…" He couldn’t even finish his thoughts.

"We don’t know."

**

Trent was pacing like a caged animal. He was standing behind the Texas Ranger working at the computer, who was obviously not happy about him being there. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. "Look, Mr. Malloy…" but Sarah cut him off.

Gently taking his arm, Sarah motioned to the loft the overlooked their office. "C’mon Trent. Let’s let him work. You can’t do anything standing here."

Slowly, Trent let himself be led towards the comfortable couch in the loft. Sarah motioned him to sit but he just couldn’t. Instead, he leaned over the railing, looking down at the officers below. It had been 3 hours since he had received the initial e-mail and their office had been inundated with Texas Rangers. Sarah moved beside him, slipping her arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity before a soft sound came from Trent. "Sarah, what if…" He couldn’t finish the sentence.

"We’re going to find her, Trent."

"I just don’t think I could stand to lose…" Again his voice trailed off.

Sarah turned him to look at her. "This is not your fault, Trent and neither was Sam. We don’t know who is doing this or why."

Before Trent could respond, the officer behind the computer called out. "Mr. Malloy, you’ve got e-mail here." He had barely finished the sentence before Trent was behind him again.

As the Ranger moved, Trent clicked on the icon, almost holding his breath. The mail was from Rob.

As the officer tried to assume his position, Trent stood his ground. "I’m going back to the original site," he said.

"Mr. Malloy, we are trying to trace his e-mail," the officer pleaded.

"It can wait." Trent typed in the address, waiting for it to load. Carlos came up the back steps from the bar, realizing something was going on.

"Trent," Sarah said softly, "Carlos can do it. You don’t have to do this."

"Yes I do," he told without even looking up from the image of his girlfriend chained up. Silently, he watched, before another image appeared on the screen.

**

Even with the blindfold, Jessie knew immediately aware that someone was there. Desperately, she tried to crawl away from the sounds, but it was to no avail. The bonds held her tight.

"Jessie," The Voice said.

"No, please," she begged. "please let me go."

"You know I can’t do that," he said softly. Quickly, he reached out and slapped her.

"Why are you doing this?" The tears fell down her cheeks as she tried to pull away. "Why?"

"Oh, you know why. You just have to remember." Another slap. "You know what you did."

"No, I don’t know. Tell me and I’ll make it right." The desperation was evident in her voice. She had no idea what she would do, but she would say anything just to make him stop hitting her. But it didn’t work. She was unprepared when the vicious punch hit her in the midsection. Only the chains stopped her from hitting the floor, gasping for breath.

"How’s that for pretend?" The Voice said, almost to someone else in the room.

Then the only sound was a slamming door and the sound of Jessie sobbing.

**

Trent’s eyes filled with hatred as he watched the exchange. "I’m going to kill the son of a bitch."

**

"We think we’ve got it!!" the Ranger exclaimed. "We’ve got a trace on the e-mail! Let’s go!"

Trent and Carlos grabbed their jackets and began to head out after the officers before being stopped. "You two aren’t going anywhere," the officer in charge told them.

"Like hell we’re not," Trent said, determination his voice. "If Jessie’s there, I will be too."

The Ranger was about to protest when he was stopped from behind. Ranger Gage had stepped in. "It’s okay, Gord. I’ll take responsibility for them. They can come with me. We’ll meet Trivette and Walker there." Nodding at the two investigators, Gage motioned for them to follow.

Ten minutes later, the Rangers broke down the door to an old warehouse in the east side of Dallas. In the middle of the floor was a single computer terminal. As they crowded around it a message appeared.

**

Trent logged on to the computer that sat in the living room of his apartment. Only one event in his life had come close to matching the level of helplessness he was feeling. And he still hadn’t recovered from that one. He had to find Jessie, couldn’t let it happen again.

As the image filled the screen he saw Jessie sitting, her hands still tied to the wall. She appeared to be sleeping. Trent let his eyes wander over the rest of the site, his stomach turning as he read some of the suggestions for the ‘experiments’. There sure were some sick people in this world. He turned his attention to the comments. One in particular caught his eye. Someone had asked, "who is Trent?" Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had heard her calling him. Trent typed, "Who wants to know?" and posted it, not really knowing why.

"I’m here, Jessie," he whispered, placing his hand on the screen. "I will find you. Just be strong, Jess." He just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

**

"We know she met the guy at the Downtown Diner. Her roommate found a notepad with that and the letters NYU. After checking it out, the waitress remembers seeing Jessie with a," Gage consulted his notebook, "dark-haired man, about 6 feet, wearing a dark blue NYU sweatshirt. After that, no one saw anything." He was the senior Ranger on the case, reporting back to Walker.

"So where does that lead?" Sarah asked.

"I think from what he said yesterday, he knew Jessie before this, " Carlos mentioned. "Did she ever work at NYU?"

"No," Trent put in. "She got her undergrad at University of New Mexico in Albuquerque, did post grad work at UTEP before coming here to Dallas to get her PhD."

"What about summers? Fellowships? Anything like that?"

"Not in New York that I know of. She’s told me she’s never been that far east."

"Okay, we’ll look into where she has worked and see if there are any connections to NYU. It may be a red herring but at least it is something. As for the computer, the guys are still working on tracing the feed. But right now, it’s not looking good. He keeps bouncing the feed off various links to stop it from being traced. However, if he slips, we’ll be waiting for him."

Something had been working around in Trent’s brain. Finally he remembered what he had been looking for. "You, know, about 3 months ago, Jessie went to a funeral of a professor she had had here in Dallas. I remember her saying something about his death being sort of mysterious."

"Okay, " Gage said. "That’s an angle we can work."

"I’ll take it," Trent said quickly. At least it would give him something to do. "I’ll go talk to them at the Psych department."

"Okay." Gage looked at Sarah and then back at Trent. "The next possibility is Roger Peterson." A hush fell over the group. It seemed like forever before someone spoke.

"I don’t think so, but I can’t say for sure. I don’t think he has this kind of computer knowledge," Sarah told them.

"You would know him best," Gage admitted.

"I’ll talk to the prison up in Canada and see if they can tell me if had taken any computer training while up there," Carlos volunteered. "Did he have basic computer skills?" he asked Sarah.

"Yeah, better than average but not to this degree, I’m sure."

"Okay, everyone. Let’s get to it. Report back here this afternoon and we’ll talk again." Looking at Trent, he tried to smile. "We’ll find her."

**

Jessie woke up screaming. It took her more than a few moments to get her bearings and remember where she was, her mind still trying to process the dream. It had been the same as always, except it was Trent with the gun to his head pulling the trigger. Despondency overwhelmed her. Sleep was no better than wakefulness. But she had to be strong. Trent was coming for her, wasn’t he? He had said so, hadn’t he? She had to hold on to that.

**

"Pardon me, can you tell me where I can find the head of the Psychology Department?" Trent stood before a middle-aged woman, sitting at a computer with various papers spread out before her. Her peroxide blond hair and very erect posture contributed to her stern demeanor.

"He’s in a meeting. I’m his administrative assistant, Olivia Jenkins. Can I help you?" She eyed him warily.

"My name is Trent Malloy and I’m a friend of Jessie McNamara. She used to …"

"She did her PhD here!" The stern look had been replaced by a wide-tooth smile. "What a lovely girl! How is she?"

"Well, actually, she is missing," Trent told her, watching the smile fade off her face. "I’m trying to find out if there was any connection between that and what happened to Professor Glenn."

Olivia got up and moved behind Trent to close the door. She motioned to a chair as she returned to her desk. "Please sit."

As Trent waited for Olivia to speak, it was obvious she was trying to decide how much to say. Finally, she put her hands on her desk and looked at them while speaking. "How do you know Jessie?"

"We’ve been together for over a year," Trent told her.

"And she is missing?" Trent nodded. "Last time I talked to her was at the funeral," Olivia said quietly. "I had worked for Dr. Glenn for almost 20 years. We were…close. Jessie had somehow figured that out but yet had never passed judgment. When everyone else was paying respects to his widow, she came to me and comforted me. She always knew what to do to make me feel better." She looked up at Trent and smiled weakly. "I don’t know all the details because I wasn’t family but they said it was a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Bob and I had been together that morning and…" Tears glistened in her eyes. "There was no way he would have taken his own life."

"I’m sorry for your loss, Ms Jenkins…"

"Olivia, please."

"Olivia. But if it wasn’t an accident who would have wanted to hurt Dr. Glenn." Trent held out the box of tissues he had retrieved from the corner of the desk. "Was there anyone who would have had a grudge against both him and Jessie?"

"I can’t think…" Olivia gratefully took the tissue. "The only thing I can think of is Paul Oates. He was supposed to get the PhD spot or at least he felt he was entitled to it because he had worked for Bob. But in the end Bob gave the position to Jessie because she had better qualifications. And to be honest, Bob just felt uneasy about Paul."

"Why?" Trent’s curiosity had been piqued.

"Paul wasn’t a very nice person. He was almost cruel when he was doing some of the work. He gave me the creeps."

"Do you know where he is now?" Trent asked.

"Last I heard he had taken a teaching assistant job up at NYU."

**

Jessie had no way of knowing it was her third day completely in the dark. As she tried to talk herself into believing Trent was coming for her, she heard the door. Instinctively, she tensed, waiting for the blows to come. When they didn’t, she relaxed slightly. Then he spoke, so low she almost didn’t hear him.

"Strip," he said.

"No, please, no," Jessie tried to pull against the chains for the thousandth time and the results were still the same.

"I said, STRIP!" he yelled as he slapped her hard and fast. "I am going to unchain your right hand. If you try anything, I will hurt you worse than anything you have ever known."

As he reached over to undo the chain, Jessie held her breath and bit her lip, trying hard not to cry. She knew how that infuriated him. She could feel his breath on her neck and she had to fight every urge to turn away.

"Now, do it."

Wordlessly, Jessie began to remove her clothes. She started with her jeans, having some trouble using just one hand. Next, she took off the sweatshirt, letting it fall over her chained wrist, hanging on the ring on the wall. She hesitated, trying again not to burst into tears. Before she could continue, the slap came, almost taking her off her feet. She felt something cold along her left shoulder, tugging at the strap of her bra. As she felt the fabric fall away she realized it had been a knife. Fear overwhelmed her but she willed herself not to move.

"Now the panties," the Voice told her.

Shaking, she reached down and slipped the cotton fabric down and over her feet. As she stood there, she tried to cover herself with her free hand but it was almost impossible. She tried hard not to think of what was coming next. Tears ran silently down her cheeks as she fought to keep control.

Like lightning, he was on her, pinning her up against the wall, his hand across her mouth. He grabbed her roughly between her legs, almost lifting her off her feet. "Remember," he hissed, his fingers probing her. "This is mine now, anytime I want it. Got it?"

She nodded, squeezing her eyes tighter under the blindfold to try to stem the tide of tears. And then he was gone. Her resolve finally broke and Jessie sank to the floor, sobbing.

**

"Okay, gang. We know who he is. Now we just have to find out where he is," Gage was handing out a memo to the group, outlining what they knew about Paul Oates. "He was fired from NYU about 6 months ago and according to his roommate back there, he held Dr. Glenn responsible, saying his refusal to give him the PhD fellowship was a blemish on his record and no one would give him a chance after that. He felt that Dr. Glenn had spread the word not to hire him. Jessie’s only connection is that she got the PhD spot Oates felt was his. His whereabouts in Dallas are unknown but a recent photo had been circulated to all patrol units. It’s just a matter of time."

**

It took Jessie a few minutes to realize that The Voice hadn’t chained up her right hand before he had left. It took a few more to realize she could remove the blindfold if she wanted to. Should I? she thought, or will that just make him mad. He would probably hit her either way. At least, she could see where she was and maybe see the blows coming. Slowly, she reached up and slipped the blindfold up. The light felt like daggers to her eyes, causing her to lower the fabric slightly. Again, she tried to move the fabric and this time it wasn’t as bad. After a few stops and starts, the blindfold lay on the floor. Looking around, Jessie saw her clothes still laying at her feet. She shrugged Trent’s sweatshirt back on, hugging it tightly to herself momentarily. He is coming, she thought. It took a little longer to get her underwear and jeans on but she finally accomplished it.

Pulling herself up to standing, Jessie looked at her surroundings. The room was maybe 12 by 12, with beige walls and little else. The ring she was chained to had been cemented into the wall and would not budge. The door was across the room and locked with a deadbolt. "Now at least I can see my prison," she said out loud. Her eye caught a piece of paper on the floor, looking like a newspaper. Straining to see it, Jessie moved only slightly. She moved a little more, finally remembering she could move a little farther than the corner she had been so used to. As she stretched, she realized she could just reach the paper. Catching it with her fingertip she pulled it to her, grabbing it like a life preserver. The title told her it was the daily newspaper of Dallas and it was dated for this morning. Voraciously, she read the lead story, something about President Bush and his foreign policies. It didn’t matter to Jessie; it was sensory input that she had been deprived of. She turned the paper over to finish the story when her eye caught a small box in the corner. Screaming, she dropped the paper as if it had been on fire. "NO!!!" she screamed. "You bastard!!! NOOOOOOO!! Once again, Jessie fell to the floor, sobbing.

**