Page 33 of Guess Again

Somewhere North of Madison Saturday, July 26, 2025

SHE HEARD THE CAR DOOR SLAM.

IT HAD BEEN TWO DAYS SINCE THE masked woman had come to slip food through the door slot.

She hurried to the other side of the room and lifted the slot to peek through.

She heard the front door upstairs open, and then footsteps as they pounded down the basement stairs.

When the woman emerged from the staircase, a black balaclava covered her face. Seeing that the woman was on a beeline toward the door, she let go of the flap and it clattered shut.

A moment later, the slot opened, and a pair of handcuffs rattled through and fell to the floor.

“Take the cuffs and go to the other side of the room,”

the woman said.

The woman’s words were short and curt.

Did she have an accent?

“Now!”

the woman said, filling her with a jolt of fear and a sense of dread that something terrible was about to happen.

She took the silver handcuffs from the floor and hurried to the other side of the room.

The woman lifted the slot and spoke through the opening.

“Close the bathroom door.”

She did as instructed.

“Now cuff yourself to the doorknob.”

She looked down at the cuffs and then back to the door slot.

“Cuff yourself to the door or this will get really ugly really fast!”

The woman’s voice rose an octave with each of the last few words.

She forced her mind to work, to think through her options.

There were only two: do as she was told and suffer the consequences of willfully giving up her ability to fight should this woman enter the room or, refuse and see what comes of it.

The woman spoke through the slot again, this time her voice was slow and calm.

“Cuff yourself to the door or I will spray chemicals into the room that will cause you to pass out.

That’s the hard way to get this done, but I’m willing to do it.”

She saw a hose of some sort poke through the door slot.

Tears welled in her eyes until they streamed down her cheeks.

“Okay,”

she yelled, taking the cuffs and securing one end around her left wrist and the other around the bathroom doorknob.

The hose disappeared and the woman peered through the slot.

“Show me,”

the woman said.

“Pull your arm away.”

She pulled against the cuffs to prove that she was securely fastened to the door.

The slot closed and a key rattled in the lock.

Then, for the first time since she’d been there, the door opened.

The woman walked into the room.

She was tall and lanky.

“Please.

Don’t hurt me.”

The woman threw something at her, and she reactively closed her eyes and flinched.

When she heard a flop, she opened her eyes and saw a newspaper on the floor in front of her.

It was a copy of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

She examined the front page and saw that it held today’s date.

“Hold the paper in front of you,”

the woman said.

Since entering the room, large sunglasses hid the woman’s eyes, while the black head covering concealed her face.

“Hold it up,”

the woman said.

She reached down and grabbed the newspaper.

“In front of your chest,”

the woman said.

“Just under your chin.”

She held up the paper and saw the woman raise her phone.

The flash bleached her retinas, and she barely saw the woman throw something else in her direction before turning and walking out of the room.

The door slammed shut and the lock rattled again.

A moment later she heard footsteps climb the stairs, and the deadbolt of the main entrance slide into place.

When the purple afterimage faded and her vision returned, she looked down at her feet to see what the woman had thrown at her.

It was the key to the handcuffs.