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

Trent had been watching the exchange as he sat in his darkened living room. The rage that had been simmering just below the surface threatened to erupt. Breathing deeply, he tried to convince himself that he had to stay focused, and find any kind of clue that would lead to Jessie. As he wondered what had been in the paper that had upset Jessie so much, an icon popped up on his screen. He had mail.

Clicking on the icon, he steeled himself for some kind of gloat or taunt from ‘Rob’, aka Paul Oates. To his surprise there was only one line: "I know who you are. I can help you find her." Hesitantly, Trent replied to the message. "How?"

An instant message box appeared on the screen. "It doesn’t matter how I know or what I know. I just want to help you find her. I think he is going to kill her."

Trent replied. "How do I know I can trust you?"

The reply. "You don’t but I am approaching you. I know you re the Trent she has been calling for. Meet me at the McDonald’s on Lincoln in half an hour. I’ll look for your car."

Trent sat, looking at the message and then back at Jessie, still sobbing on the floor. He had to take a chance. "Stay strong, Jessie, " he said aloud. "I’ll be back to find you."

**

Jessie heard him enter but she didn’t care. Her world had been turned upside down and she was struggling to hold on to reality.

"So, I guess you saw the paper," The Voice said nonchalantly.

Jessie looked at him, seeing her captor for the first time. She knew it had been the man calling himself Rob, but there was still no recognition. Hatred burned in her eyes. "IT’S NOT TRUE," she screamed. "I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!"

Picking up the paper, he looked at headline. "Local P.I. Found Dead of Self-Inflicted Gunshot Wound," he read aloud. Tossing it back towards her, he smiled. "Okay, so maybe it wasn’t self-inflicted but he is still dead."

"NO! NO! NO!," Jessie wailed.

"Jessie, think about this. You heard his voice, didn’t you? But then where is he? Do you really think he would leave you here if he was alive?"

"No, no, no." she sobbed. "He can’t be dead. Not Trent."

"Ohhh," he said mockingly. "Does that mean your white knight isn’t going to ride in and rescue you?" He started to laugh. "It was a pleasure putting that bullet in to him, especially that look in his eye when he realized it was coming." He walked to her, grabbing her wrist and chaining it back up. Leaning towards her, he nuzzled her neck, making her squirm. He grabbed her face holding it inches from his. "You’re mine, now," he whispered. "And don’t ever forget it. "

"Oh Trent," she sobbed, thinking how her dream had come true.

**

Trent walked into the McDonald’s surveying the customers. There were the resident teenagers after a night clubbing and a few seniors having coffee. No one looked promising. Ordering a chocolate shake, he paid for his purchase and headed to a booth by the window. He stared out at the parking lot.

After a moment or two, he heard a voice. "Hello, Mr. Malloy." Looking up, Trent saw a blond-haired, slightly built teenager, no older than 15.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"No, I can help you," the boy said, taking a seat across from the PI. "I know what you are thinking, Mr. Malloy, but believe me, I am smarter than I look."

Trent smiled slightly. "Look,…"

"John," the boy told him.

"John, this is serious. What makes you think you can help me?"

"I can trace him."

"The Rangers have been trying that for two days now," Trent conceded.

"Yeah, but they don’t know how to look. I do. After all, I found your home email and all about you." A smug look crossed his face. "Besides, I think you are running out of time. I think he is going to kill her soon. He sent me an e-mail saying the next step is the broadcast of an execution."

Horror crossed Trent’s face. "He gave me three days to find her."

"So it s deal."

"Why? Why are you doing this?" Trent wanted to know.

"Because. Guys like him give the Internet a bad name."

** 

He was back. Jessie’s eyes widened when she saw the glint of metal in his hand.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked sarcastically as he waved it in front of her face. "It’s a standard police issue firearm," he told her, moving around in front of her. "This is the one I used to kill Malloy. I know you’ve seen one of these before, haven’t you?"

Jessie closed her eyes. Suddenly, she was in that room with a man named Dave Henderson. He had held the gun to her then finally he had turned it on himself and fired. As she heard the gunshot in her memory, her eyes flew open. He was smiling.

"You’re remembering, aren’t you? Remembering the feel of it against your temple, knowing you could be dead in an instant." He held the gun up to Jessie’s head. "Remembering, how scared you were and then, finally," He paused for effect. "The sound." Jessie screamed as he pulled the trigger, taking only a fraction of a second to realize there had been no bullet in the chamber. "Tell me, Jessie, how did it feel to have brains splatter all over you?" His laughter echoed throughout the room.

Complete and utter hopelessness surrounded Jessie. With Trent gone, there was no hope. Carlos, knowing that Trent would never kill himself with a gun would be focusing all his energy there. Jessie had no doubt they would find her captor, but she knew it would be too late. Looking into his eyes as he held the gun, she knew he was going to kill her.

**

"It’s three in the morning. Won’t your family be worried about you?" Trent asked John.

"No. Both my parents are away on business," John replied absently, as he set himself up on Trent’s computer. He logged on to the familiar site, finally seeing Jessie leaning against the wall, both hands now chained. Her face was red and swollen, but for now, the crying had stopped.

"Who is she to you?" John asked, quietly.

"She’s my girlfriend," Trent muttered. Somehow it seemed the word didn’t do the relationship justice. How could he tell this stranger, this kid, everything Jessie meant to him, everything she had done for him? She was the one who helped him live again after he lost Sam. He closed his eyes, not wanting to think about losing her. Clearing his throat to hide his emotion, he changed the subject. "How long do you think it will take to find him?"

"Not very," John said, hammering away on the keyboard. "Maybe a couple of hours. Got any food?"

"Yeah," Trent snickered. "I got food."

**

They had been working for over three hours when John got his first break. "I’ve established the pattern he is using to bounce the signal. Now, I just have to see where there is a slight delay in the bounce. That should be his home base."

Trent was amazed. "How come the Rangers have been doing this for days and they are no closer and you can do it in three hours?"

"I told you, I just know where to look." John turned and smiled at Trent. "We should find her soon."

Trent was torn. Should he call the Rangers set up in his office? What about Carlos? He guessed that the Rangers, not wanting to be shown up, wouldn’t pay much attention to what John was telling them. After much deliberating, he decided on his course of action. He would go himself and call the Rangers if and when he found Oates.

They were close to finding Jessie, he could feel it. He just needed her to hang on. He had begun to worry even more about her. She had been sitting against the wall, not moving. Her eyes were staring and took on a vacant look. It was as if she wasn’t even there.

"Look," John called. "He’s back."

**

"Get up," he told her, kicking her none too gently in thigh.

Silently, Jessie did as she was told. What good would fighting do? It would just prolong the inevitable.

He had brought a length of chain. "Don’t do anything stupid," he hissed, unlocking both her hands and attaching the longer chain to her right hand. This he locked back up to the ring. The result was that Jessie was on a longer leash.

Smiling, he reached into his shirt and brought out a large kitchen knife. Jessie’s eyes barely blinked. "Strip to your underwear," he told her, expecting to hear her beg and plead.

Again with out a sound, Jessie did as she was told.

**

"John! Find it now!" Trent implored as his eyes remained locked on the screen, almost sensing what was to come. "Come on man, You have to find her NOW!"

"I’m almost there. Five minutes." He was typing furiously.

"I hope she has five minutes," Trent managed through gritted teeth.

**

"Now, you don’t mind if we just have a little fun, do you?" He walked around her, looking over every inch of her. But something was wrong. She wasn’t saying anything or even trying to cover herself. He reached out with the knife and cut the sides of her underwear, causing them to fall to the floor. Now she was completely vulnerable. He would have her. He pushed her backwards, causing her to fall to the floor. Almost instantly, he was on her.

**

"LEAVE HER ALONE!" Trent screamed, even though he knew it was useless. "John! NOW!!!"

"Oh man," John muttered. "I’m sorry, Trent. I’m going as fast as I can."

"I’m going to kill that fucker," Trent spat, watching the events on the screen unfold.

**

Straddling her, he undid his zipper. But still, something was wrong. She wasn’t fighting, or pleading. This wasn’t what he wanted. "What’s wrong? Lose all you spunk?" he sneered. He slapped her. "No pleading?"

For all intents and purposes, Jessie was a million miles away. She was thinking about Trent, wondering if she would see him again. She had always believed in heaven, and somehow she knew that was where he would be.

He slapped her again, trying to elicit a response. When none came, he hit her harder, and then harder again. Before he realized it he was beating her, screaming, "Fight back, dammit! Fight back!" until she lapsed into unconsciousness.

**

Just as Trent was about to find something to punch, John yelled, "I got it!!!" Quickly, he scrawled an address on a piece of paper. Tearing his eyes away from the screen, Trent looked at it long enough to figure out where it was. Grabbing his coat, he yelled back to John. "Give me 20 minutes. Then cut the transmission and call my office. Ask for Gage. Tell him where I am." Then he was gone.

**

It was a large century home on a quiet tree-lined street. I wonder what the neighbours will think when they find out there was a house of horrors in the middle of their suburbia, Trent thought. Quietly, he walked around to the back entrance of the house. He looked at his watch. Five minutes until John broke the transmission. He had to work fast.

He peeked into the back window, seeing Oates. He was pacing, obviously still upset about what had happened. Trent watched as he grabbed the gun and headed out of the room.

Soundlessly, Trent tried the back door and to his surprise, found it open. He stole his way into the kitchen, peering around the corner. Oates was pacing in an old fashioned sitting room, talking to himself.

"Who the hell does she think she is, not fighting back. I know she is just trying to provoke me. Well, I’ll show her." As he turned to enter the door across the room, Trent called out. "Hey, Oates."

Surprised, Oates wheeled around to face him. "You!" he shouted! Before Oates could bring the gun around to face him, Trent lunged, sending the gun skittering across the floor. Finally releasing all the rage built up inside of him, Trent let loose on the man before him, not even feeling the pain in his broken hand. When it was over, Oates lay on the floor in front of Trent. Catching his breath, Trent started back to the door behind him. As he grasped the knob he heard a voice. "FREEZE!" Trent turned to see two officers with their guns trained on him. He put his hands up and spoke. "There is a hostage in there." He motioned to the door with his head. One officer went to the still form on the ground. Looking over at his partner he shook his head. "He’s dead."

"He had a gun, " Trent told them. "Look, my girlfriend is in there. Just make sure she is okay." As he took a step towards the door the officer raised his gun again.

"I SAID FREEZE!!" He motioned to his partner who crossed the floor and cuffed Trent’s hands behind him. "Sit, "he said, pushing him to the couch.

"Just make sure she…" His words were cut off by the officer telling him to shut-up. Trent was beginning to fume. He had seen most of the beating inflicted by Oates and he was sure Jessie needed medical attention.

Finally, the officer opened the door and entered. Calling to his partner he yelled, "There’s a woman in here. She looks pretty badly beaten. Call an ambulance." Trent finally breathed sigh of relief.

**

"Okay….okay," Ranger Gage had been speaking to someone on the phone, as he stood beside Trent. Sitting on the couch, he still wore the handcuffs. As Gage hung up, Trent asked, "Gage, can I get these things off? My hand is killing me and I need to get to the hospital to see Jessie"

"Yeah, just a minute Trent. I just gotta talk to the FBI guys. Downtown says we have to consult with them. It may be their case." Gage walked over to a blond man, wearing an expensive three-piece suit. Trent guessed the man was younger than he was.

As he watched, the two appeared to have an animated conversation, with Gage’s voice raising slightly. Wondering what was going on, Trent tried to adjust his arms against the handcuffs. His broken hand was throbbing now. His questions were answered when Gage approached him, his face downcast.

"What?" Trent asked.

"They are charging you with murder."