“I want you to write the same thing over and over until I tell you to stop.”

She didn’t move.

“NOW!”

She jumped at his shouting before retrieving the marker. She turned to the wall behind her because it allowed her to keep her back to him. It occurred to her she hadn’t asked his name. She started to write.

“You haven’t told me your name.”

“Norman.”

Vanessa continued to write but she had remembered something. She had read some articles on kidnapping and they all said to try and start conversation. The goal was to make yourself be seen as a human being, not an object.

“That’s a nice name.”

She tried for as sincere a tone as she could muster but his reaction told her she had failed.

“You’re a liar. Just like always. You made me believe you cared but you didn’t. You’re like all the others.”

Something hit the wall next to her and made her jump. She looked down to see a 9 millimeter bullet.

“The next one that comes at you will be coming from my gun.”

Vanessa continued to write while she tried to think of some code or a way to leave a message. Nothing came to her. He stayed by the door and watched her as she continued to print out the words.

I will never call you bloodstain again.

****

Jason looked at his watch for the twentieth time.

10:15

He’d been waiting almost two hours for the sketch artist. He knew every minute mattered and he had just lost 120 of them. Finally, he saw the man coming down the hall. He didn’t bother with greetings.

“In here.”

They found Stephanie watching TV.

“Stephanie, the artist is here.”

“Okay.” She flipped the TV off and tried to pull herself up farther in the bed. She squinted from the pain. “How do we do this?”

“The artist will start with some basic questions and then move to more specific features. You just answer the questions the best you can and when he shows you the picture you can make suggestions.”

“Okay.”

The artist had finished opening his sketch book and was ready.

“Miss. Morris, is it?”

She nodded.

‘My name is George Stewart. Do you have any questions about what Detective Strong said?”

“No. I think I understand.”

“Okay. Let’s begin with the basic shape of the face. Would you say it was round or long?”

“Long.”

“And would you say it was thin or wide?”

“Thin.”

The artist did some drawing.

“And the eyes, were they close together or wide set?”

“Close.”

“And his forehead, long or short?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you say he had a big forehead or small?”

“Big.”

Jason had moved over to the corner behind the artist so he could watch the picture take shape.

“And his nose, narrow or wide?”

And so it went for over a half an hour. Slowly the picture in Stephanie Morris’ mind came to be on the paper in front of Jason. He didn’t recognize him but he knew this was the face of the one holding his partner.

Jason planned to show the picture to Marcie Walker’s parents and friends. He still believed that she was the key. It had to be someone in her life. The artist continued with questions.

“His skin. What tone was it, light or dark?”

“Well, one half was light but the one side of his face was covered with a birthmark.”

“Okay. The birthmark, which side of his face?”

“It was on my right, when I looked at him.”

“Okay, that’s his left. Was it brown, red or some other color?”

“It was red, almost purplish.”

“Like a Port Wine Stain?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Jason stood straight up. He looked at the artist.

“What did you call it?”

“A Port Wine Stain. Why?”

Jason’s mind was going a mile a minute. The wine glasses. The bloodstain on each. It had to be the connection.

“Our suspect would leave a wine glass at each scene.”

Stephanie’s eyes got big.

“I remember that! He took a wine glass out of his bag.”

Jason headed for the door.

“Finish the sketch including the birthmark. I need to make a call.”

He glanced at his watch.

11:30

****

Vanessa’s arm was getting tired. She had written the sentence at least a hundred times, maybe more. She had occupied her mind by counting each one but had lost count at 74. She had no idea how much time had gone by, but she figured as long as she was writing, he would leave her alone. He had not left the room. He just watched.

“That’s enough.”

Her heart stopped.

“Throw me the marker. Nicely.”

His voice had lost all tone. It was dead, cold and matter-of-fact. It matched his eyes.

She turned and tossed the marker over by his feet. Wrapping her arms around herself, she waited for what she assumed was the inevitable. He looked at her and then at the mattress in the middle of the room.

“Lay down over there.”

Vanessa didn’t move. The gun came up from his side and pointed at her.

“Lay down over there, now.”

She crossed the room and climbed onto the mattress. Laying down, she curled into a fetal position with her back to him. She heard him get up.

She held her breath, tears starting to well up in her eyes. Then she heard the door open and shut, the lock click, and silence.

She let her breath out.

Chapter  16

Jason found the number in the memory of his phone. It was almost midnight but he had to call. Mrs. Walker had obviously been asleep.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Walker, this is Detective Strong. I’m very sorry to wake you.”

“Detective Strong?”

“Yes. Detective Vanessa Layne and I spoke with you and your husband a little over a week ago.”

“Oh, yes…Of course. It’s very late, detective. What is it that couldn’t wait until morning?”

“I don’t have time to go into the details but my partner has been taken and we believe it’s the same man that took your daughter.”

Jason could hear Mrs. Walker suck in her breath.

“We saw the news, of course. We didn’t realize who the abducted detective was.”

From the background came the voice of Mr. Walker.

“Who is it?”

The phone was partially covered but Jason could still hear Mrs. Walker telling her husband who was calling and about Vanessa. There was some muffled noises and Mr. Walker came on.

“What is it we can do for you, detective?”

“Mr. Walker, do you or your wife recall a friend of Marcie’s from school that had a large birthmark on his face?”

“Well…yes. There was a boy that had a rather large one who went to high school with Marcie. I only met him once, quite by accident.”

Jason held his breath as Mr. Walker turned to his wife and asked the boy’s name.

“Do you remember that boy’s name that stopped by looking for Marcie? He had the large birthmark on his face.”

Jason couldn’t hear the answer but Mr. Walker came back on.

“My wife doesn’t remember his name but she thinks his picture would be in the high school yearbook. She’s gonna look for it. Do you want to call back?”

“Actually, would it be alright if I came over?”

“Now?”

“Yes. If his picture is in that book, I’ll need to see it.”

“Very well.”

Jason hung up and called Lieutenant Patton.

“Patton.”

Jason didn’t know if the lieutenant was at home but he had definitely not been asleep.

“Lieutenant, this is Jason. I’m on the way to Marcie Walker’s parent’s house. The sketch has given me a lead. Mrs. Walker’s looking for a school yearbook that may have our guys photo.”