He finished taking a bath, preparing dinner, and fixing the messed up cabin by sundown. He cuffed Terry's hand to a pillar when he went into town to get the ingredients. Sitting across from him, Terry tried not to look into his eyes as he fed her like a baby. He'd uncuffed her right hand, but she knew it was only temporary. Although he apologized for tying her up like an animal, Terry found it difficult to accept it.

"Can I ask you something?" Terry said after she swallowed the morsel he carefully placed into her mouth.

Ethan nodded.

"Did someone plan your escape?"

"Yes. Someone did, and I've got to find that person."

She couldn't tell whether he was lying or telling the truth. He put the spoon on the empty plate, picked the glass of water, and placed it on her lips. She refused to drink it at first, but when the thirst reached a breaking point, she slurped the water in seconds. She controlled the urge to belch in front of him.

He dabbed at her lips with a napkin. Terry couldn't remember the last time she'd been fed like this and by a stranger. Eddie had done this some years ago when she was sick. But he wasn't Eddie, which made this moment of her life feel awkward. She imagined what her life would have been if Clinton hadn't brought Ethan's case to her door.

She'd have been with Eddie and Gabby and watching their favorite television series together, sprawled on the couch in their living room and shoving popcorns into their mouth by now. Then Gabby would fall asleep on either her lap or Eddie's. Eddie would carry her into his arms and they would take her to her room. After that, she'd close all the doors to the house and meet Eddie in bed. Then they'd both go to sleep.

Instead of those happy moments, she'd found herself facing her kidnapper and watching him feed her as though she were a convalescent. He'd cleaned all the oil stains on her lips. He didn't smell of marshes anymore and his scent was pleasant to sense.

"Thank you."

He refrained from acknowledging it. He'd fed her not out of the generosity of his heart but had done it because he needed her to stay alive.

"My last question," she said. "I want the truth. Did you kill Hamilton?"

Ethan was starting to hate how she had been pestering him with the murder of the hired witness. "No."

"Can you swear?"

She wanted to trust him-to believe he was innocent, but to do that he had to earn her trust, and she couldn't trust him when she thought he was a murderer.

"I don't need to swear."

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling the truth."

He got to his feet and packed the plates. He carried them in one hand, the napkin in another. "I'll be right back." He disappeared into the kitchenette.

When he was gone, she looked for a way to escape. The brown door that concealed the small kitchen was left ajar, but even so, she was certain he wouldn't see her if she made her move. The only part of her body trapped was her wrist. If only she could get past the cuffs.

She scrutinized the metal cuffs and thought of how to pick the lock. A bobby pin might do the magic. Terry whipped her head around the cabin. The surrounding had changed, and now it looked beautiful compared to its initial state. She was amazed he could cook so well and at the same time tidy up a room.

She thought she saw something on the makeshift table. She hadn't strained her eyes when he reentered the room. Terry cursed under her breath.

"Time to take a bath."

He walked to the section she sat and uncuffed her with the keys. She reluctantly rose and he guarded her upstairs. Following his directions, Terry stepped inside a sparse bedroom in a decent state. The bed had been made and a long dress was splayed across it.

He pointed to a plastic door. "That's the bathroom. When you're done, put on this dress." He said it as though it was a command, and she had no other choice but to obey, which in reality was the case.

She looked at him for two minutes without a word. She didn't know how to tell him to leave so she could undress, but she guessed he expected her to do that in the bathroom. He didn't move, and she realized he had no intention of leaving because he didn't trust her to take the bath without trying any dangerous feat.

She went into the bathroom and stood on the cold floor, studying the room. There were both a bathtub and a shower. On a long shelf, different bath soaps had been arrayed. Terry drew back her eyes and focused on undressing. First, she pulled off the blouse over her head and stooped to unzip her jeans. That's when her finger touched something. A device. It was her cell phone. It had been with her all along, and she hadn't seen it. Neither had he.

Overwhelmed with happiness, she quickly pulled it out from her pocket. A phone call would attract his attention because he was within earshot. A message would easily be sent without arousing his suspicion. She wasted no time in pulling up her message box. Then she started texting the only person she felt could help.

HELP ME, CLINTON. I'M IN A CABIN. IT'S AN HOUR DRIVE FROM MY HOUSE. IT'S THE ONLY CABIN ON A VAST GRASSLAND. THERE'S A CREEK TOO.

She felt these were the only landmarks she'd use that would narrow down the search for her. Excitedly she hit the send button, but was disappointed when the message was marked NOT SENT. She checked her data connection. Damn it, she had no signal.

Hopes shattered, Terry hid the phone in her jeans. She should get a signal by tomorrow. If not, she'd have to find another way to make contact. She pulled off the jeans and let them fall on the floor. Then she walked to the shelf, grabbed the Aloe Vera bath gel, and stepped inside the shower.

Terry uncapped the container and squirted the gel into her hand. Gingerly, she smeared it across her body and put the shower on. She didn't want to use his bath sponge, so she used her palms to form the lather.

When the water hit her skin, Terry felt the stress subside. For one second she thought she was home. She stayed longer in the shower than she initially thought she would. She ran her fingers across her dark hair and slicked them backward.

Five minutes later, Terry came out of the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around her slender body. She picked her blouse and jeans from the floor.

He was still standing in the room when she came back. Carefully, she placed her clothes by the dress he'd instructed her to wear. Terry glanced at him, trying to tell him to leave the room, but he didn't get her message.

"Could you excuse me?"

He lowered his gaze, and said, "I'm behind the door. Don't try anything. I don't want to use my gun."

He left the room. Terry sighed tenderly. She could hardly breathe in his presence. The first thing she did was check if the message had been delivered. Still no signal. She sighed and grabbed the dress.

It smelled new and clean, so she decided to put it on. She jumped into the dress and dried her shaggy hair with the towel. Then she spent the next minutes studying her reflection in the mirror. She still looked gloomy even after the delicious meal and the cold bath he had generously given her.

Walking away from the mirror, she went to stand by the window. She had to find a way to escape from this cabin. She pulled back the window and her heart sank when she saw that her car was no longer by the creek. He'd ditched it for fear of the cops using the number plate to track him down. As the minutes passed by, her chances of escaping got slimmer. But she wouldn't lose hope.

Even in the most difficult moments of her life-like how she had lost both parents in a fatal car accident-she'd held onto some hope when she knew they were false. And now she felt it was the only thing she could do. Hope.

It was nightfall already, and the stars had lined up above the sky. She stared at the beautiful constellation and thought of Eddie and Gabby. She wondered what they might be doing. Perhaps, sleeping and dreaming of the heavens. A wistful smile formed on her face. At least she didn't have to worry about their safety.

He barged into the room when he thought she was keeping too long and found her standing by the half-open window. She swiveled around to face him, and he was mesmerized by her elegance. She wore the dress better than Anna.

He'd brought Anna and Ronnie to the cabin when they were still married. That was several years ago. He still had nostalgic memories of those wonderful moments. They exchanged a tense look before she said, "You have to let me go. You can't keep me here forever."

"I don't intend to keep you here forever."

"As long as I'm here, they'll come for you. The cops. . . the feds, you name them."

"Our trail would've gone cold by tomorrow, and they won't find this cabin."

He was so sure this location was safe and was out of any law enforcement's radar. She imagined the look of horror on his face if the SWAT stormed this place after Clinton received her message.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. By now words have spread you've kidnapped me. It's only a matter of time before state troopers start showing up here. You still have the opportunity to be a free man again. Let me go, and I promise nobody will know about this."

She didn't know why she wanted him to escape after everything he had done. Part of her wanted him to disappear in the wind, and the other part wanted the cops to find him. She doubted he'd be given clemency even if the cops found her unscathed. He'd already added felony and premeditated murder to his list of crimes-that's if he did kill Hamilton, which she still believed he did.

She moved away from the window and headed toward him. He noticed she looked different in the dress.

"Please, Ethan. Let me go. If you're innocent as you claim you'll not keep me here."

It was the first time he had heard her refer to him by his first name, and he liked the sound of his name on her lips.

"Everybody thinks I'm guilty, and I need to refute that."

"And you think keeping me here is going to help you do that?"

"It will if you start telling me what I need to know."

Their conversation was getting boring, and she was annoyed. What possibly did he expect to extract from her that would help him prove his innocence? Terry pushed past him and made it to the bed. She was tired, and sleep was all she thought about.

The portrait on the nightstand caught her attention. She picked it and looked at the photo of Anna and Ronnie taken some years ago. Gliding her fingers across the glass seal, she said, "Beautiful. Are they your family?" She'd turned to look at him.

Ethan stomped toward her and snatched it from her hand so fast that her finger bone cracked. Terry wondered if she had offended him. She watched him place it facedown on the stand. Then he pulled out the cuffs, said, "Time to go to bed," and went for her wrist.

He was going to cuff her again. No. This wouldn't happen. She wasn't his prisoner. Survival instincts kicked in. Her mind now perceived Ethan as the threat he was and she needed to run from him. Adrenaline surged in microseconds, and she summoned her hands to work.

She didn't know how it happened, but by the time she realized, her hand had gone straight into the wound on his lower torso, and her fingernails were cutting through tissues. Ethan groaned, and then he dropped the cuffs.

Terry should have stopped there, but she didn't. This man had abducted her from her house, mistreated her, and killed a witness. He wasn't innocent. He wanted to parry her hand, and she shoved him in the solar plexus. Ethan landed heavily on the floor. She didn't halt to look at what she had done. There was simply no time. She readied her legs and dashed out of the room.