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I sit and stare at the bags for at least half an hour while feeling sorry for myself. But, ultimately, the boredom gets to be too much, so I amble over to see what’s in the bags.
I look at the contents of the first bag. New clothes. After my shower this morning, I put on the same clothes as I had on yesterday. I hate wearing the same clothes two days in a row, but I didn’t have a choice. Now I can at least change into fresh, clean clothes. Oh, thank heavens! Clean underwear. Lucas has good taste in clothes; I have to give him that.
Next, I open the other bags. Art supplies. And not just any old crap. Expensive stuff. Again, I’m impressed. My captor has good instincts. On paper, Lucas is the perfect gentleman and host. It’s a pity this isn’t a typical scenario. Lucas is generous. Most women would be fawning over him for that. But not me. Not this time around. I will not be elevating this mob boss to hero status anytime soon.
I gather from the various outfits and the generous amount of art supplies that Lucas plans to keep me here for quite some time. I have to wonder whether Dannie or Simon will ever find me here. Are they even looking, or have they given up?
Poor Dannie. She must be frantic. Damn Lucas for putting her through this so soon after the shock of David’s death. Does he realize what he’s doing to us? I have to get word to her somehow. My best friend has been through enough.
I’ll have to play along and behave, or I won’t get what I want. If it means that I’m going to have to swallow my pride, then so be it. I can play nice. Up to a point.
At least I have my art to distract me. I take out the supplies and lay them out on the floor before I choose a canvas. I know exactly what I’m going to paint. A portrait from memory.
The next time Lucas comes to see me, I’ll have David’s face on this canvas. If he thinks I'm going to make it easy for him to forget what he’s done, he’s got another thing coming.
“I won't let you forget about my brother’s death, Lucas. Never!”
11
EMILY
I’m expecting to see Lucas when there’s a knock at the door. It’s been two days since he gave me the art supplies and clothes, and I have seen neither hide nor hair of the man since then.
“Come in,” I snap, ready to give my best performance yet.
But it isn’t Lucas at the door. It’s the bulky henchman who brings me food every day.
“Where’s your boss?”
“We’re moving you,” he announces. “You don’t have to pack. We’ll bring your things for you.”
Moving? Where to? Am I finally getting out of here? And why isn't Lucas here to tell me himself?
“Moving me?”
“Yes. The boss wants you upstairs.”
“I see.”
I should throw my toys out and make a scene. No one will blame me if I do that. The cheek of it all! But I have to get out of this dungeon first if I have any chance of escaping, so I’ll play along.
“Well, I guess the boss gets what the boss wants,” I snap and get up.
“This way, please,” he grins.
“What is your name?”
“Dominick.”
“Where is Lucas, Dominick?”
“He’s busy.”
“Too busy to talk to his captive?”
The musclehead shrugs his shoulders.
“My job is to follow orders,” he says matter of factly.