Turning slowly toward the sound, Ashley and Briar saw a large, muscular man, still wearing the ski mask she had noted earlier, aiming a pistol in their direction. "Looks like your lucky streak has run out, folks," he declared, sounding quite pleased with the idea. "Somehow I doubt that you've got another Hail Mary pass up your sleeves this time, so I finally have you where I want you. Well, almost."

      "Well, if you're so sure of that, why don't you take your damn mask off and pull up enough balls to actually face us?" Briar challenged him, as Ashley gaped at her in astonishment. "Since you're so sure you've got us over a barrel, what difference will it make, anyway?"

      Surprisingly, instead of reacting angrily, the gunman threw back his head and laughed, sounding genuinely amused. When his mirth subsided a bit, he nodded, almost approvingly, and announced, "I'm impressed, Ms. Malveaux. Most people in your position would be groveling on their knees in the mud, but it seems that you have some backbone, and I respect that. It's actually rather unfortunate that you've been such a giant pain in my ass, because under different circumstances, I think I might actually like you."

      "Well, you'll have to excuse me if I don't turn handsprings over that particular announcement," she snarled. "Since you're the worthless fucker who murdered my cousin, I don't give a rats ass whether you like me or not!"

      "Oh, please spare me the righteous indignation, Briar," he snorted. "Your cousin was a worthless junkie whore, a drain on society just like the others, and if you would have just accepted that fact and gone on with your life, you wouldn't be here right now."

      "So just because someone has some rough breaks, and their lives get a little off track, you think that gives you the right to decide whether or not they get to live?" Ashley cut in. "The right to appoint yourself judge, jury, and executioner?"

      "Oh, I'm hardly that unreasonable, Mr. Purdy," their captor replied. "Or that uncompassionate. I realize that there are young men and women, children, even, who are forced into prostitution unwillingly. And that there are people who are duped into addiction by quack doctors who care more about financing their next island vacation than the well-being of their patients, or forced into it by lowlifes who want to take advantage of them.  And if we take them off the streets, and they make use of the opportunity we give them to change their situation, then I'm quite happy to let them go on about their mundane little lives."

      The utter lack of emotion in his voice was even more chilling than the gun he aimed at them, and they both shivered slightly as he continued his speech. "It's the ones who refuse to learn their lesson that I have an issue with. The ones who repeat the cycle over and over again, without any regard for their families, or the people they rip off, and pass their diseases on to. They're the ones who have to be taught, the ones who should serve as an example to the rest of their kind. You understand that, don't you?"

      "The ones like the guy who killed your sister, you mean," Ashley said quietly, earning looks of surprise from both Briar and the gunman. "And I suppose I could be wrong, but I'm guessing that your problem with the hookers has something to do with what you said about your mother."

      "Well done! You have an excellent memory, Ashley," the other man responded, before reaching up to pull off his mask, revealing the face of Detective Keith Harris. "My mother walked out on her family, and left my dad to take care of three small children by himself, and work full-time and then some while he did it," he snarled, anger creeping into his voice. "Just so she could be free to drink and get high, to act like a goddamn teenager instead of a grown woman with responsibilities and people who needed her! Just to end up spending most of her time on her back to pay for her fucking poison, and getting herself killed when she tried to pull a fast one on her dealer."

      "And as for the worthless piece of slime who shot poor little Tracy and the others, the bastard had a record longer than fucking 'Gone With The Wind', he shouldn't have even been on the street, let alone have access to a gun!" Harris raged. "He'd been in and out of jails and rehabs at least a dozen times by the time he held up that restaurant, and as soon as he'd get out of one or the other, he'd go right back to his old habits. And I'll tell you two a little secret; that's the only time I've ever regretted the court system actually working like it was meant to. They convicted the pitiful piece of shit, and put him on Death Row, but I would have much rather gotten him all to myself. Then he would have gotten what he really deserved."

      He abruptly stopped speaking, cocking his head as though he was listening to something, and after a moment they realized what had caught his attention when they heard the distant wail of sirens. He turned to glare at them, and said, "Now I see what you're trying to do. You're trying to distract me, hoping that the fire crews or someone will stumble on us and rescue you. Well, I hate to inform you that it's not going to happen, no one is going to help you this time. And if someone is foolish enough to try, I won't hesitate to eliminate them."

      Harris moved closer, aiming the pistol first at Ashley, then Briar. "Get moving, we're going back to the cabin, where we can have some privacy. And I think maybe we'll just take ourselves down into your little hidey-hole when we get there. That way, we won't have to worry about anyone interrupting our little party if they decide to come and round everyone up. So move your asses, now!"

      Briar adjusted her grip on Ashley, preparing to support him as he walked, but Harris placed the barrel of the gun under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Uh-uh, we're not going to play it that way, sweetheart," he barked. "If you two are together, that gives you too much opportunity to try to cook something up. So you're going to walk with me, and I want him in front, where I can see him."

      "There's no way that's going to work!" Briar protested. "He can't even stand up on his own, let alone walk!"

      "Is that so?" Harris sneered, as he turned the gun toward Ashley. "In that case, maybe I should just shoot him now. Does that sound like a better idea to you, Miss Take-Charge? Or would you rather do it my way?"

      "What I'd rather do, or not do, doesn't matter, you sick freak!" she hissed. "I've already told you, he can't fucking walk on his own! So either I help him, or you might as well shoot us both right now. And I don't think you want to do that, because sound carries for miles around here, and if you start firing that gun with all of the cops and firefighters that are bound to be roaming around, it'll be a fucking miracle if you even make it back to the highway. So if that's what you want, then go right the fuck ahead!"

      He swung the gun back toward her, the barrel touching the tip of her nose as he glared at her, his lips curled back in a snarl. Refusing to show him her fear, Briar simply stared silently back at him until he lifted the pistol. "You'd make me do that just to ruin things for me, wouldn't you, you smart-mouthed little bitch?"

      "You're planning to kill us anyway, so why should I make things easier for you. If I'm going to die, then my last wish is to take you down with me. So if you shoot Ashley, I'm going to start screaming my lungs out. Between that and the gunfire, the next thing you'll be doing is a perp walk on the nine o'clock news."

      "Bitch!" he snarled again, before stepping back. "Fine. You hold his ass up, and I want both of you in front of me, where I can keep an eye on you. Keep him moving, and if I even think you're gonna try something stupid, one of you gets your spinal cord cut. Then I'll make that one watch while I rip the other's guts out. One of you will get to live, but will you really want to?"

      With Ashley's arm across her shoulders, Briar tightened her grip on his waist and began slowly moving forward, struggling to set a pace that would cause him the least amount of pain possible, but would hopefully not tempt Harris to make good on his threat. He continued to avoid the paths that previous vacationers had beaten as they traveled toward the lake, keeping to the trees, and the mud and storm debris made their progress excruciatingly slow. 

      After walking for approximately thirty minutes, they had covered roughly half the distance between their starting point and Wiley's cabin, and they had paused briefly near the edge of a deep ravine so Harris could remove a rock from his shoe tread, which also allowed Ashley and Briar a moment to catch their breath. As they prepared to start walking again, there was a noise in the brush a bit further ahead, and they glimpsed the outline of someone picking their way through the undergrowth. Harris waved the pistol at them, whispering, "Must be one of the damn smoke-jumpers. Don't move a muscle until they get past us, because if you're stupid enough to try to get their attention, it'll be on your heads when they die. And it'll be worse on you, because I'll play with you even longer before I kill you." 

      With Harris' gun aimed at them, Ashley and Briar remained silent as the footsteps continued to crunch through the leaves, just beyond their line of sight. And because they were so focused on what was in front of them, all three were equally startled when a branch cracked behind them, and a familiar voice announced, "No, Keith, that's not quite how it's going to work."