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Kari and Kat stared at the woman seated across from them, shocked by her admission and addition to the case.

“So, there was a witness who saw it all but doesn’t want to come forward?” asked Kari.

“Yes. She says she doesn’t have to because she has a relationship with the man and his son that did this to me. It’s her son as well.”

“Who is this woman?” asked Kat.

“She is a nun at the convent.” You could have knocked them both over with a feather. Staring at Jenna, Kari leaned back and shook her head.

“Jenna, why wouldn’t you have told us this? This is important. She’s withheld evidence and tried to manipulate the trial by manipulating you.”

“I know. I mean, I thought I knew but I thought I was doing what was right. She was raped as well, by the head of the biker gang. The man that beat me, raped me, the one that died in prison was her son.”

“Jesus,” muttered Kat. “Are you alright, Jenna?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I don’t know. I’m angry at her. I’m angry that she asked this of me, I’m angry that she didn’t help me. I guess I’m just angry.”

“Rightfully so, honey. That woman should have helped you. The fact that she didn’t says an awful lot about her. Plus, I think she may be struggling with some psychiatric issues if she honestly believes that she should, or could, have a relationship with this man.”

“I thought so, too but I’m not an expert in these things.”

“You don’t have to be an expert to know when something is wrong, honey. We no longer have to worry about Weaver, but we obviously have to worry about his father, and potentially his biological mother. That worries me,” said Kari.

“Maybe I should leave,” she whispered.

“No. No, you cannot leave,” said Kat. “Listen to us, Jenna. If you attempt to leave here he will find you and it will end worse than before. Do not expose yourself to this man.”

They sat quietly in the late afternoon breezes of the grove. Others walked around them, but didn’t listen to their conversation. Then they all turned at the very loud disruption.

“Stay away from me!” said Samantha.

“Sam, Samantha, honey, you have to listen to me. He’ll kill us both if we don’t help him,” said her father.

“You’re sick! You make me sick!” she yelled. “Go. You go and see what happens to you. He doesn’t give a damn about you and neither do I. You would sell your own daughter. Again! To a maniac rapist psychopath. You know what? You guys make a great team. Go. But leave me the hell alone.”

Samantha walked swiftly past the grove and toward the offices. When Sam tried to follow his daughter, four men stopped him in his tracks.

“I believe the lady said to leave her alone,” said Gabe.

“She’s my daughter!”

“You damn sure never treated her like one,” said Antoine. “I don’t think you deserve a girl like that. You’re so caught up in your own greed you’re willing to sell her again to that maniac.”

“None of you understand what this is going to turn into. You don’t get it.”

“Then enlighten us,” said Angel. “Tell us what we’re not seeing. After all, you called Clayton to generously offer your help.”

He jerked his head upward, staring at the faces around him.

“How? How would you know that? Phone tapping is illegal!”

“That’s what you’re hanging your defense on?” smirked Miller. “I doubt that will hold much water in a court of law. You called him, begging for help to get out of wherever you are.”

He just stared at them, unsure of what they’d heard or not heard.

“You guys are really screwed,” said Angel. “Offering women, motorcycles, and cash to Ferdinand. He’s not a guy you should fuck around with.”

“And yet, they did,” smirked Gabe.

“Do you know how long I’ve been an attorney in this God-forsaken state? Thirty years. Thirty damn years and I can barely keep up with my mortgage and credit card bills.”

“You should learn to live within your means,” said Angel.

“Very funny. Men like Clayton and Ferdinand break every law in the books and never get caught, never go to jail, and accumulate more wealth than you could possibly imagine. I love my daughter, but she’s an ungrateful little bitch most days. Nothing I do is enough, or good enough. When Clayton offered me two-hundred thousand for her, I jumped at the shot of finally having some money and some peace.”

Angel stared at him with hatred, while the other men opened and closed their fists. Bolchek turned to see his daughter standing there, no tears, no words, just staring.

“Jesus. You have to admit, Samantha, you’re a fucking demanding young woman. It’s never enough for you. Private schools, designer handbags, your own damn credit card.”

“You gave me that. I didn’t ask for it,” she said calmly. He just shook his head. Samantha looked at the men standing around her father. “I don’t ever want to see him again. I don’t want to know what happens to him. The only place I might see you is in the courtroom because I will testify against you.”

She walked away and he just stared at the back of his daughter. It wouldn’t matter, when he left here he was going to see Killer and everything would be back on track.

“I’m leaving,” he said trying to shove through the wall of testosterone.

“Oh, you’re leaving alright. But we get to decide how.”

It was nearly midnight when Sam Bolchek rolled over and found himself staring at a pile of bison shit. He moved in the other direction and rolled into the pile of elephant shit.

His head was pounding, splitting in two as he looked around the space.

“No. No, where am I,” he frowned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Killer. “I should fucking gut you right here.”

“No! No, I can help. They have Samantha and the others. They even have the nun.”

“Who?”

“Those men. The ones that attacked you.”

“Where are they?” Sam looked up and down the road, back and forth, pointing, then pulling back and pointing again. “Where the fuck are they?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean, I know but I didn’t get to see where they took us and where I came from. I don’t know. It was like a small subdivision with lots of houses.”

“A subdivision? You’ve lost your fucking mind, Sam and I don’t need that right now.” He lifted his weapon, pointing the gun at his head.

“No! I can help.”

“No you can’t. Only one person can help me.”