A noise woke me sometime late into the night. The room was pitch black except for a small stream of light coming from a crack in the bedroom door. As I sat up, still half asleep, I could just barely make out a set of voices conversing in the living room. One was definitely Cliff, but the other was one I didn't recognize. Curious and hopeful for a rescue, I crawled across the room to peer through the opening in the door.

Cliff was seated on the couch, a troubled expression on his face. There was a stranger seated next to him who looked to be only a few years older. He was more relaxed than Cliff, but in a way that exuded confidence more than comfort.

"I did my best to shake 'em, but I don't think they believed me," Cliff said. "You know how the FBI can be."

"I do, which is why I know the only reason they'd be so keen one searching your place would be because they have some serious evidence." the guy said, sipping on a beer.

Cliff's own beer sat untouched on the coffee table. "I must have left something there that gave them a lead," he said. "I can't think of what though."

The guy clicked his tongue with a grin. "Come on, Cliff. I thought I taught you better than that," he said.

My eyes widened and I felt my stomach lurch at the realization. This man taught Cliff to be a murderer? The very thought sent shivers down my spine. Fearful of being caught eavesdropping by someone so dangerous, I hurried to move away from the door. However, in my haste, my hand hit the door lightly and it moved with a soft creak. Both Cliff and the stranger snapped their attention to the door.

"What was that?" the man asked.

Cliff looked nervous. "I left the fan on in my room. It probably just blew the door," he said.

My heart thudded in my ears as I saw the man narrow his eyes in my direction. "No," he said.

I tried to scramble away in time, but he had already walked over and pushed the door open, flooding the room with light. Upon seeing me, one of his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a wicked grin stretched across his face like had just found the most amazing toy. He crouched to my level. "Why, hello there," he said. I flinched back as he reached for my chin, lifting it thoughtfully.

By this time Cliff was standing in the doorway, an anxious look on his face. He looked like he wanted to stop our interaction, but was hesitant to deny the stranger his interest.

The man turned my head from side to side and looked me over like I was a fine piece of merchandise. At one point he leaned so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Finally, he sat back on his heels. "He's cute," he said. He smirked at Cliff over his shoulder. "But I'm surprise. I thought you said you'd never get one."

Cliff shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, clearly reluctant to speak. However, I swallowed back my fear to speak to the man directly. "One what?" I asked.

The stranger looked back at me, the smirk still on his face. "A pet," he said matter-o-factly.

That title made me feel far worse than I had expected it to and I pursed my lips. "I am not his pet," I said, sending Cliff a look of contempt.

The guy appeared amused to hear this. "Oh? Pardon me for saying so, but you sure look like his pet," he said, motioning to the chain on my ankle. I flushed, embarrassed and infuriated. I glared at him as he stood up, brushing himself off. "You don't seem to have trained him very well. How long have you had him?" he asked Cliff.

Cliff moved to stand in front of me. "A couple months," he said, hurrying to change the subject. "Can we please get back to our conversation?"

The guy ignored him and extended a hand to me, "I'm Rowen. What's your name?" he asked.

At first, all I did was stare at him distrustfully. But then Cliff nudged my leg and gestured with his eyes that I should accept the man's greeting. Slowly, I put my hand in his. "Zane," I mumbled.

Rowen seemed pleased. "Nice to know you."

That was all Cliff was willing to put up with, so he helped me to my feet and directed me to the bed. "Stay here," he told me.

It irked me that he thought he could just tell me to do something and expect me to obey, but something in his voice told me it was more than an order for obedience, so I decided not to argue. Once I was settled in, Cliff turned back to Rowen. "I would appreciate it if you went back to the living room," he said.

Rowen's expression turned smug, but he headed for the door anyway. "Sure, sure. Are you coming?" he asked. "I can give you two some privacy, if you'd like."

Cliff scowled at him and the man chuckled as he exited the room. Once he was gone, Cliff sent me one last glance and left me alone again. I frowned at the door after they had gone, trying and failing to hear their conversation from my spot on the bed. I could have moved closer to the door, but I didn't want to risk having anymore conversations with that man.

An hour later, I heard the front door open and close before Cliff returned to the room with a heavy sigh. He seemed startled to see me still awake, and maybe pleasantly surprised that I was still sitting on the bed. "Why aren't you asleep?" he asked.

"Because I didn't want to sleep," I said. "Who was that guy?"

Cliff shook his head as he changed into a more comfortable shirt. "Just a friend," he said.

I frowned at him, knowing full-well that he was more than that. "He said he taught you," I stated. "Is he some sort of sick mentor?"

"You really are a pest," Cliff accused, matching my frown with his own. As he sat down on the bed, I moved to the opposite side and crossed my legs. Knowing I was still waiting for an answer, he ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, he taught me. I learned most of what I know from him."

"So, he turned you into a heartless, coldblooded murderer," I said.

That statement made Cliff glare at me. "No," he said. "He educated me and got me through college. If it wasn't for him, I would probably be dead right now."

My brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"When I was a little bit younger than you, my family was in a car wreck," he said, voice going timid. "I was the only one who survived."

A pang of guilt throbbed in my chest at having prompted him into telling me such a tragic story, but I shoved it away. I wasn't about to feel bad for a killer. "So what?" I said, trying to sound disinterested.

"So, I was put in the foster care system. But I rebelled against everyone and eventually ran away. That was when Rowen found me. He raised me and schooled me, and he helped me deal with my anger. For a while, I stayed by him, but Rowen... Rowen's more dangerous that even I know, so eventually, I left." He paused and looked at me. "He was like a father to me, but he can be brutal, and he doesn't take no for an answer."

"When you say he helped you deal with your anger, you mean he taught you how to kill," I said.

He nodded, but it seemed shameful. "We keep in touch for that reason. I usually ask his opinion when I don't know what to do about something," he said.

I swallowed a lump in my throat at the thought of having to grow up like that. At least now I knew why he was so messed up.

Cliff carefully leaned closer as if to comfort me with a smile. "Don't worry about it too much. Rowen may not have been the best parental figure, but he raised me to be strong," he said. "Now, get some sleep."

Though he spoke as if it were the most normal thing in the world, there was something about the way he looked at me that made me feel like I was missing something. There was some puzzle piece that wasn't fitting, and I wanted to know what it was.

*******

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