Marybeth was cold, colder than she had ever been. And wet, completely soaked. As she moved, she realized she was tied to something. It was dark and smelled musty and another odor she could not identify. She yelled for help, finally realizing that no one could hear her. Her fingers moved at her side, feeling her naked skin. She closed her eyes tight to keep the tears from running. Lord, please, somebody help me, she prayed.
She did not know how long it had been, as time had no meaning. Finally, a door opened somewhere, and a voice, muted as if the mouth was covered, spoke. “I see you're awake, pretty girl. Good, because I want you to record a little message for yur mamma ‘n’ daddy. It's all written out for you to say.” He sat a small recorder on her chest, taking time to rub her breasts gently. “Now, can ya see this here paper I am holding?” He pointed a small flashlight at it. She nodded. “Start reading'.” He turned on the recorder and situated the microphone between her breasts, holding them together with just enough pressure to keep the device in place while he rubbed her nipples with his thumbs.
"Daddy. Mamma. I have not been hurt so far. For my release, they want two million dollars by midnight tomorrow night. If you do not have it then, the price goes up a million the next day. On the morning of the third day, they will kill me. You are to put the money in a waterproof container and drop it off the second span from the east side of the railroad bridge crossing Mobile Bay at midnight. No police or they will send you my body, in pieces.” Marybeth was sobbing by then and could barely talk. “They will phone you at two pm tomorrow, and you are to say only yes or no. Yes, if money will be there. No, if not. Next call will be at the same time the next day, and the amount will be three million. I will call with a new drop place then."
"That was good, pretty girl. Now I'll give your folks a call and play your little tape for them. When I come back, you and I are going to have some good old Cajun style lovin'. I promise if you do what I tell ya, you not be hurt, and hell, you will probably even like it. All the women do. Think about it, and if there are some special things you like, just tell me. I am eager to please. I have never had a dissatisfied gal yet."
Again, time did not pass. When the door opened and the man returned to her, he had more for her to record. “Pretty girl, I going to be gone for awhile, but I will feed you when you are done recording the next instruction. Start reading when I start this here recorder."
"Mamma, Daddy, please. I am still okay, but one of the brutes can't keep his hands off me, and I have no clothes or blanket even. This time, the three million must be in a waterproof bag wrapped to look like garbage. You will put in a trashcan in the parking lot of the pancake house on the eastern shore of Mobile Bay, where the bridges cross. It must be in the third can from the left, not the dumpster, no earlier than three AM. If you look inside before you drop it, you will find something you recognize ... you gave me the ring for my sixteenth birthday."
"I don't understand, about the ring. What—” She screamed as he severed her finger. It was the last thing on the recording. He put a cup to her lips, dribbling a bit of water down into her mouth. He wrapped a cloth around the stub of her finger and taped it tight to stop the bleeding.
He left again, but this time set a burning candle on a table against the far wall. He even put a blanket over her freezing body, tucking it tightly around her. “Want you nice and warm when I come back. No fun with a stiff, unless it my stiff.” He laughed at his own joke and bent to kiss her, forcing his tongue into her mouth.
When he returned, he was so nice she hoped he was going to let her go. “I'll untie your hands now, so you can eat. Would you like that?” She nodded, still in pain. He untied her, pulling the blanket away.
He gave her a peach that dripped down her body as she sat eating it like a starved child. Another and another. “I think that be enough for now. Do not want your stomach to send it back up. I always like peaches best. Plenty of meat and juice at the same time. Oranges are good that way too, but peaches are so sweet. Now, honey chile, lay back down like a good little girl."
He tied her hands again to the sides of the hard surface that she decided might be a door or desk or something. Then he lowered his head and let his tongue lick the juice off her breasts and stomach. “Stop, please, please. Don't do this. You said you wouldn't hurt me. Please, they will give you the money. Please."
"Well, honey chile, guess I lied. I got three million, and I am going to keep one for myself. Two is more than enough for my partners, since I do all the work while they just sit around drinking beer. Did you really think I was going to let you go after you saw my face? Silly girl!"
"Please, I haven't seen your face. You can let me go. There is nothing I can tell about you. Please.” Her voice was shrill and pleading through her tears.
"Unfortunately for you, that really doesn't matter. You are so damn pretty ... if you were ugly, you wouldn't be here. I have to kill you because that is what I like to do. First, we are going to have some fun. You can yell all you want. I like that, too. Any requests? None? Well, I guess I just go ahead and do what I like."
He turned on a light overhead, a light like in an operating room. She could not see him, had never seen him, only the knife he held in his hand. He lowered his head again, replacing his teeth where his lips and tongue had been. She screamed, but no one heard!