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his teeth ached. And when she shot him another one of her haunted looks, silently begging him to come over, this time he was helpless to say no.
    Shoving away from the wall, he threaded his way through the patio tables and chairs, not stopping until he reached her side. Daring the detectives to say anything, he crossed his arms and prepared to stop this inquisition if it got out of hand. The relief on Kaylee’s face told him he was doing the right thing.
    Cole, however, obviously disagreed. He gave Zack a disapproving frown from his seat beside his boss, Lieutenant Shlafer, who was sitting beside Special Agent Willow. Four other Collier County and Broward County detectives sat behind them in a semicircle.
    Paying no attention to Zack, Special Agent Willow rested his forearms on his thighs and cupped his hands together. “You’re sure you never saw the man’s face?”
    She shook her head. “I’m sorry. It was usually dark when he was there. And he always wore a leather mask, like a hood, tied around the throat. There were wide slits cut out for his eyes, and a hole for his mouth. But everything else was concealed. I couldn’t even tell you the color of his hair.”
    “Leather? That’s very specific. You sure about that?”
    “The material was dark brown, thick, but soft and pliable. If it wasn’t leather, it was something similar.”
    “Soft. You touched the mask?”
    Her cheeks tinged a light pink. “No, Agent Willow. The mask touched me, when he touched me.” Her words were short, clipped, angry.
    Zack winced at the words that she wasn’t saying. She’d avoided sharing intimate details about her treatment so far. But she was getting closer and closer to telling them exactly what the man had done to her. And it was taking every ounce of control that Zack had to keep from putting his arms around her to protect her from having to relive that horror again.
    Willow had the grace to look uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “You said he kept you in a box most of the time. What kind of box? Cardboard? Wood?”
    “Plexiglas. And before you ask, yes, I’m sure. If it was real glass, I’d have broken it. God knows I tried.” She wrung her hands, massaging them, perhaps remembering how they’d hurt as she’d slammed her palms against the top of the box, trying to get out of it.
    Zack remembered this part from an earlier interview, and it still made his hands fist at his sides and nausea roll in his stomach. She’d basically been buried alive, kept in a box the size of a coffin, surrounded by dirt walls, able to see the sky above on the rare occasions when the man removed the heavy black cloth that covered the top of the box most of the time. Small holes drilled into the Plexiglas allowed just enough air flow to keep her alive.
    The man who’d imprisoned her had sometimes left her in the box for days at a time, without food or water. It was a wonder she hadn’t baked to death. There must have been branches overhead, helping to block the heat of the sun. When he did take her out, it was usually at night, or at times when the sun was just beginning to rise or set. She rarely got to see sunlight.
    He mainly took her out to give her food and water, just enough to keep her hydrated and fed to the point where she wouldn’t die. He forced her to clean the box. And when he wanted to...play...to do whatever sick and twisted things he did to her...he would make her clean herself. While he watched. Anything more than that, including how she’d managed to escape her captor, was anyone’s guess. Because every time they got to that part of the interview, she’d shut down.
    Willow pulled out the little pocket notebook where he’d made notes earlier when they’d covered this same ground. “You said the box was in the ground, that you could see dirt surrounding you on all sides. But the top was left open?”
    Her hands began to shake and she gripped them together in her lap. “Not open. Closed, locked, but covered with