Days bled into a blur of nervous anticipation. Sleep offered no comfort, my mind replaying the gamble I'd taken with Alex and the hidden flash drive. Was it a desperate act of salvation or a one-way ticket to a deeper nightmare?

Finally, the silence was broken by the creak of heavy door. My captor entered, unreadable face, as usual. This time, however, he wasn't alone.  A tall, imposing figure, clad in a sharp suit, followed him into the dim cell.

My heart hammered against my ribs. Detective Miller. Her eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room before settling on me. This was it. The moment of truth.

"Mr. Evans," she started, her voice crisp and professional. "We have something that belongs to you."

She held up the flash drive, its smooth surface glinting under the harsh overhead light.  A wave of relief washed over me, so intense it almost made me lightheaded. 

"How did you…?" I stammered, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Let's just say your friend, Mr. Stone, was very helpful," Detective Miller replied, her tone devoid of emotion.  "He claims you left this behind at the apartment."

Alex. He'd managed to deliver the flash drive to her! A surge of gratitude mingled with a flicker of worry.  Had he put himself in danger by involving the detective?

"May I see it?" I asked, desperation lacing my voice. 

Detective Miller studied me for a long moment, then tossed the flash drive onto the floor beside me.  My captor remained silent, observing the scene with an unreadable expression.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the flash drive.  This small piece of plastic could hold the key to my freedom, or it could be a trap sealing my fate.  

"We'll be analyzing the contents of this drive," Detective Miller continued. "If it exonerates you, Mr. Evans, we'll talk. But if it contains anything that incriminates you further…"

She left the sentence hanging, the unspoken threat heavy in the air.  My stomach churned.  The wait for the results felt like an eternity.

The days that followed were the most agonizing yet.  My captor offered no information, and Detective Miller remained a stoic presence, visiting periodically to check on me but offering no updates.

The silence was deafening, broken only by the gnawing fear in my gut.

Was the flash drive empty? Did it contain incriminating evidence planted by my captor?

Then, one morning, Detective Miller entered the cell, a flicker of something in her eyes that I couldn't decipher.

"Mr. Evans," she announced, her voice unusually subdued. "We've analyzed the contents of the flash drive. It contains… interesting information."