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shelf and switched it on, setting it on a table in the middle of the room. He looked around, admiring his handiwork. He’d framed out the room with sturdy two-by-fours and put the Sheetrock up himself; every wall was plumb and painted a therapeutic light blue. He’d gotten all the materials for free from a contractor buddy of his who had supplies left over from jobs with no place to store them. Behind the walls was the solid rock of the mountain’s innards. But anyone looking around the room would think they were in a house somewhere. That was sort of the idea.
    He walked over to one corner and studied the woman who sat slumped in the straight-backed chair. Her head rested on her shoulder as she slept. He poked her in the arm, but she didn’t react. That wouldn’t last.
    He rolled up her sleeve, pulled a sterilized syringe from his knapsack, and stuck her in the arm. That did drive her awake. Her eyesopened and then slowly focused. When they settled on him, she opened her mouth to scream, but the tape across it prevented this.
    He crinkled a smile at her even as he efficiently filled two vials with her blood. She stared down in horror at what he was doing but the restraints held her tightly to the chair.
    “I know this must seem strange to you, ma’am, but believe me, it’s all for a good cause. I’m not looking to hurt you or anybody else, for that matter, really. Do you understand that?”
    He pulled the syringe free, dabbed the wound with a cotton swab doused with alcohol, and carefully placed a Band-Aid over it.
    “Do you understand that?” He gave her a reassuring smile.
    She finally nodded.
    “Good. Now, I’m sorry I had to take some of your blood but I really needed to. Now, we’re going to feed you and keep you clean and all that. We won’t keep you tied up like this. You’ll have some freedom. I know you can see that was necessary at first. The tying-up part. Right?”
    She found herself locking gazes with him and, despite the terror of her situation, nodding once more in agreement.
    “Good, good. Now, don’t you worry. It’s going to turn out okay. And there won’t be any funny business. You know with you being a woman and all. I don’t tolerate any crap like that. Okay? You have my word.” He gently squeezed her arm.
    She actually felt the edges of her mouth curl up in a smile.
    He put the vials in his knapsack and turned away from her.
    For a moment she imagined him whipping back around and, with a maniacal laugh, firing a bullet into her brain or slitting her throat.
    Yet he simply left the room.
    As Diane Wohl looked around she had no idea where she was, why she was here, or why the man who’d kidnapped her had just relieved her of some of her blood. She had gone shopping at Talbot’s, he had been in her car with a gun, and now she was here, wherever here was.
    She began to sob.

7
    S EAN K ING SAT in the dark. The light blazing on made him lift a hand to shield his eyes and squint up at the intruder.
    “Sorry, didn’t know you were in here,” Michelle said, though she didn’t actually sound apologetic.
    “I slept here,” he explained.
    She perched on the edge of his desk. “Going off in a pout? Refusing to answer questions? Sleeping at the office? Sitting in the dark? Do I sense a pattern?”
    He slid a newspaper across to her. “Did you see the story?”
    “Read it online already. Got most of the facts right. You seemed appropriately thoughtful in the photo.”
    “It’s a file shot they pulled from my Secret Service days.”
    “I thought you looked remarkably youthful.”
    “Had a bunch of reporters calling. I kept hanging up.”
    “They’re not just calling. They’re parked out in front of our office. I came in through the back. I think someone spotted me, so that exit’s probably covered now too.”
    “Great. So we’re trapped in here.”
    He stood and paced, his long feet kicking out angrily.
    “You want to talk about it now?” she asked.
    He stopped, flicked a