Held

Coleman was both relieved and worried. He was worried because he knew The Voice would suspect something once Holly mentioned her family. Sure, it could be a natural concern anyone might have, but it could also mean she'd been in contact with the male being held. The relief came because he didn't want things to end like they had with The First One. This girl, this...Holly...seemed to be willing to accept her fate. Coleman hadn't even known the first woman's name. "The Voice" had forced him to dispose of her after less than one week. The woman, whoever she was, seemed to be unbreakable. This one was much more...compliant. He hoped she would stay that way although he still had no idea what that might mean for him. He only knew that he never wanted to have to do...that...to another body.

It still made him sick all these weeks later. When she died, she'd pissed and shit all over herself. Her face was purple and black and her eyes were wide open. Coleman wasn't exactly sure how The Voice had killed her, but he knew with certainty she was dead the moment he saw her on the monitor. The only other dead bodies he'd ever seen were in funeral homes after a mortician had carefully prepared them for viewing. Coleman felt nauseous when he first saw her in person after being ordered to go downstairs. He later threw up when he saw the chainsaw and the black bags. He still had nightmares about the sounds and the spatter. He'd been forced to drag her body into a dark, cold, concrete room before dismembering her. He couldn't initially force himself to do it even after being made to watch a particularly gruesome episode of Dexter in which the title character had killed someone with a chainsaw then disposed of them in plastic bags. Only after seeing a live video feed of his beloved niece and nephew was he able to make himself follow through with this most hideous task. Coleman had a son, too, but for some reason, he was never in any of the images The Voice used to control his behavior.

Just before 6pm, Coleman heard The Voice. It was almost cold and metallic as though someone was speaking into a voice-altering machine. He'd tried resisting, too. Initially, he was dealt with by the shrill sound of the siren. But there had also been appeals from The Voice. The first was a reminder of a headline he'd been shown: "Local Teacher Arrested on Multiple Counts of Inappropriate Conduct." He couldn't remember when that was but it before The First One. Then more recently he'd been shown one that said: "Convicted Teacher Missing in Possible Jailbreak." That had to be connected with her being here. What didn't make any sense to him was a third headline. He couldn't recall it verbatim but it had something to do with a missing Microsoft executive. He was confused to the point of agitation and dismissed the third headline as something that must have pertained to the First One. Besides, none of that mattered. He'd been told what to do and refusing wasn't an option.

Coleman was dressed in an Armani suit and Gucci shoes, and it was time for him to go downstairs. He was still a very good looking man even at 45. He'd always found time to workout and nature had also been very kind to him. Like his own late father, he still had jet-black hair that was thick and full. He'd inherited those same blue eyes, the high cheekbones, and the dimple in his chin. Those features were what had allowed him to marry someone as beautiful as his wife, Bonnie. He met her when he was supervising the construction of a very large stage for the Miss Washington contest some 22 years ago. It was his first project as lead engineer and in a chance encounter, he'd had the opportunity to talk to Miss Seattle who would later become his wife. Coleman couldn't remember how long he'd been held here nor could he remember how much time had passed since her death. This place made it nearly impossible to think and trying to do so caused him incredible pain and frustration. "Just let it go," he reminded himself as he stepped away from the full-length mirror.

Pete punched in the correct codes and after ensuring the doors were secure, stepped inside. The doors were absolutely silent as were the very expensive shoes he wore. He slowly walked down the hallway toward the living room. He didn't believe in God but he was silently praying Holly wouldn't say anything about his previous unauthorized visit. If she did, there was no telling how severe the penalty might be.

As he stepped into the living room, she saw him. "Hello," he said.

He could feel perspiration building up on his forehead as she stood up. He walked quickly toward her and just as she began saying, "It's you!" he threw his arms around her and said loudly enough to muffle her words, "Holly! You look so beautiful!" As quickly and as quietly as he dared he whispered, "Don't say a word about my being here before."

He stepped back and said cheerfully, "You look much nicer than you did in your prison orange."

Holly was visibly shaken but it was clear she'd heard him. She glanced at the video camera before saying, "Who are you?"

"I'm Pete Coleman. I know your first name is Holly, but that's all I know. If we could sit down, maybe we could get better acquainted."

Holly sat back down where she'd been and Coleman sat across from her. "My last name is Prescott," she told him. Her eyes darted back and forth from Coleman's to the monitor behind him.

"So tell me about yourself, Holly Prescott," Coleman said as though they'd just met at an art gallery or some other upscale place. Both of them wearing designer clothes and sitting in what could pass for a multi-million dollar home in the Seattle area.

"I'm sorry. I've played along all day. I'm wearing what they want, I've done everything they've asked, but I'm not gonna just sit here and pretend everything is okay and make small talk with a total stranger." She looked over at the monitor and hollered, "What in the HELL do you want?"

Coleman sat up straight and said, "No, don't do this..." Just then, both of them were subjected to a 10-second blast of unbearably loud noise. When the sound abated, Coleman's ears kept ringing. He hadn't been forced to endure that much noise since his hesitance to dispose of The First One.

"Are you okay?" Coleman asked Holly.

"Yeah. I'll be okay," she told him.

Coleman spoke. "So again, tell me about yourself, Ms. Prescott."

This time, Holly knew better than to fight a hopeless battle. "Well, I was born and raised in Yakima. I went to Central Washington State, got a degree in secondary education, moved to Seattle four years ago and started teaching high school. I'm 26, single, no kids, and...no pets."

Coleman laughed politely as she said, "So what about you, Mr. Coleman? From whence do you hail and what it is you do for a living?"

"I grew up in Sumner. Do you know where that is?" he asked.

"More or less. It's between Seattle and Olympia, right?" she replied.

"More or less," Coleman said back to her. For the first time, Holly smiled. "I graduated from Sumner High School then went to the University of Washington where I finished a BS and a master's in engineering, and I worked for the city of Seattle as a structural engineer ever since."

"I see you're wearing a wedding ring. Do you and your wife have children?" she inquired.

Coleman felt that old familiar feeling well up inside him the way it did every time he thought of Faith. "I'm a widower," he told her quietly. "And no, we never had children."

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. "Do you feel like telling me how you lost her?"

Coleman felt the fury building up inside of him rise from the pit of his stomach to the taste of bile in his throat. "She was murdered by some fucking monster who..."

The sound of the alarm cut him off in mid-sentence. Both of them instinctively covered their ears until it stopped. This was a short burst of less than five seconds. Just enough to convey the message, "Don't say another word."

"That's okay," she told him. "I don't need to know anything else. I'm just so sorry for your loss." She stood there for a moment then said, "So how long have you worked for the city, Mr. Coleman?"

"I'll tell you if you'll call me Pete," he said politely.

"Okay. Pete."

"Almost 20 years," he told her. His smile faded and he looked...perplexed. "At least I think it was that long. If you're doing the math, there's no need. I'm 45."

"Well, maybe it's the expensive suit, but you look very...distinguished for a man of your um...advanced years." Holly smiled and put her hand on his arm letting him know she wasn't being mean.

"Well, that's high praise coming from such a beautiful but very young school teacher," he said in return.

Holly's smile faded as she said, "Former school teacher. I was falsely accused and convicted of..."

The siren blared for another ten seconds.

When it ended, Holly turned toward the camera and growled, "What kind of sick fuck are you?"

Coleman reached out and gently grabbed her arms and said, "Hey, listen. Why don't we sit down and talk some more, okay?"

The anger drained from Holly's face and she said, "Okay. Sure. Anything to keep the peace—and quiet—around here, right?"

As they turned to move away, they saw the now-familiar blinking green light over the storage area. "Ah! Dinner time," Coleman said. "Shall we?"

Five minutes later they returned with everything needed to make dinner. Salad, rolls, vegetables, and although Holly had been a vegan for years, two thick steaks. That was something else she'd given up in jail. The food was crap and she needed every decent calorie she could stand to put in her mouth and that had meant eating the meat served with every meal.

Coleman did the preparation and Holly did the cooking. Just as the table was set, they turned at the sound of the airlock and noticed a bottle of actual champagne. It was Dom Perignon, not some cheap sparkling wine.

"Looks like compliance gets rewarded in the same way rebellion gets punished. Shall we?" he suggested.

"Please. I'm starving," she told him.

Half an hour later, they were finished eating and Coleman was pouring Holly a second glass. "I'm sorry for not saying much during dinner," she told him. "I'm just so afraid to say anything that might, you know..."

"I do," Coleman told her. "Maybe we can find some topics that are safe and get to know as much as we can about one other."

"I'd like that," she told him as they took a seat on the sofa in the living room.

"So do you have any hobbies, Pete Coleman?" Holly asked as she sipped her champagne.

"I have season tickets to the Mariners and Seahawks games. I try and get in the gym 3-4 times a week and when time permits I enjoy tennis and golf." He suddenly stopped talking again then said, "Well, I mean...those are things I used to do. There's a small exercise room upstairs but I haven't been to a game in..." He took a small sip then, as though he hadn't mentally stuttered added, "I'm a reasonably good tennis player, but when it comes to golf my last name should be Mulligan."

Holly raised an eyebrow and said, "Mulligan? Am I missing something?"

He smiled then explained the meaning of the word which caused her to laugh out loud for the first time in over four months. Coleman couldn't help but notice her smile was exceptionally beautiful. She really did look so much like her...

"What about you, Holly? What keeps you busy when you're not teaching..." Coleman stopped and said, "What do you enjoy doing for fun?"

"Well, I also happen to enjoy playing tennis and if I may say so, I'm pretty darned good at it. If we ever get the chance, I'd be happy to teach you a lesson in humility," she said teasingly.

"Oh, really? I hope you don't think I'm going to take it easy on you because you're a girl," he said.

"A girl? Really? A girl? I'll have you know I was all-state my senior year in high school and I had a an athletic scholarship for playing tennis. So this girl will be the one showing the boy a thing or two," she said with mock indignation.

"Okay, so you play tennis. What else do you like doing?"

"I spend a lot of time helping out disadvantaged youth. Older teenage boys mostly," she said. She paused then added, "Well, I used to anyway before I was..." This time, she stopped herself in mid-sentence fearing that any further information would bring the piercing sound of the alarm.

As they finished off the bottle of Dom, Holly said, "I guess I shouldn't ask you how long you've been here, should I?"

Coleman sat down his glass in expectation of the noise. When it didn't come he said, "I believe that's a wise choice." He hesitated then added, "Besides, I'm not sure I can even answer that."

The silence was interrupted but not by a shrill siren. Rather, it was the sound of music. "Oh, my gosh! My mom used to listen to that song all the time!" Holly exclaimed. "I love this song!"

Coleman smiled and said, "Me, too. It was the theme for Homecoming my senior year."

"Jesus! You're older than dirt, Coleman!" she joked. "Do you think you can dance with me or should I go look for an oil can to loosen you up first?"

"Oh, I think I can manage a dance or two. I mean, it's only 8 o'clock so I've got another hour before my bedtime." He loved when Holly laughed. He was happy to see her happy and he had to admit, she was a very attractive woman. But because she looked so much like...her...how could he think anything different? Then, out of the blue, and for the briefest of moments, he saw himself standing over her with a running chainsaw as she reached out and grabbed his hand.

Coleman was startled as her touch brought him back to reality. "Come on," she said. "I can't be that unattractive to you."

Coleman shook off the image of her body in bloody parts and took her hand. Without warning, he took the lead and began waltzing to the music. "Oh, my God! You really can dance!" she said.

"Courtesy of Arthur Miller and my late wife," he said. At the mention of his wife, both of them stopped and put their hands over their ears. When the melody continued, they both laughed and continued dancing. Coleman showed her every step he could remember to include some line dancing during a country song.

When it ended, Coleman found himself holding her hands and she found herself just inches from his face. Even in her 3" heels, she was still looking up at him. She couldn't help but notice he had the gentlest eyes she'd ever seen. Maybe it was the champagne but she had to admit he was a very nice-looking man. He would definitely still be considered handsome—for his age. Her principal was the only other older man she'd ever met who was really attractive to her. The thought of dating someone over 30 tended to repulse her but her principal was...hot. And this Pete guy was well...beyond luke warm.

Just as the lull became uncomfortable, Holly noticed a green light from the hallway. "Looks like we're being summoned," she said.

As they approached the source of the light, they noticed it was coming from the keypad. Holly stood next to him and said, "I suppose this means it's time for you to go." There was a kind of sadness in her voice as well as a sense of resignation.

Coleman said, "I believe you're right." He turned toward her and said, "I had a very nice time this evening, Holly."

"So did I, Pete. You really can dance. For an old guy, I mean." She tried to smile but there was sadness in her face as she realized this entire evening wasn't real. It was a setup. And she, and most likely Coleman, were props in this sick and twisted game.

Coleman held out his arms hoping Holly would embrace him. She hesitated then moved closer and put her arms around his neck. Coleman said a bit too loudly, "Sleep well, Holly," before whispering, "I can't risk it tonight, but I'll back tomorrow at midnight." He didn't know how sensitive the microphones were at any given place, but he felt this was something he had to risk. He might not only be heard but so might Holly if she was foolish enough to respond. She didn't and Coleman breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"I don't suppose you should be here when I enter the code," he told her as he released her petite frame.

"No, I don't think that would be a good idea. So, well...good night then," she said sweetly.

"Good night, Holly," he said as she turned to leave. Once she was safely out of sight, Coleman punched in the code and headed back upstairs.

Chapter 2

Coleman was sound asleep when he was woken by The Voice. Distant at first then louder. "Deal with the woman. She's guilty and she's a whore. Repay her in kind!" Coleman sat bolt upright.

He shook off cobwebs and listened carefully. Coleman was sweating. A cold sweat in spite of the warmth in the room. He was now fully awake. "Deal with her the way she dealt with them or your family pays the price!"

Coleman wrestled with the demand all day. In the end, he knew there was no sense in fighting. If he refused, The Voice would kill his beloved sister, Erin, and then kill him. Resistance was a death sentence. But how could he force himself on a woman he barely knew? How could he do that to anyone? And from somewhere in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew she wasn't guilty. But how could he know something like that?

Paralyzed with indecision, Coleman spent the rest of the evening curled up in the fetal position unable to move. As the red LED lights on his alarm clock got closer to midnight, he returned to the monitoring room. At exactly twelve o'clock, he repeated the same series of events that took him into the basement area. He found her sitting up still awake in the living room. This time she didn't speak. She up straight, remained silent and listened.

"Holly. There's no time to explain this so just listen to me and...trust me. He's making me...rape you...tomorrow. I don't know why. He keeps saying you're a whore and I have to punish you the way you hurt them. I don't know if that makes any sense to you, but you know what happens if I refuse. Fight me if you need to but I have no choice. I'm so sorry."

Coleman turned to leave and Holly said without emotion, "I understand. Everyone thinks I'm guilty. Now it all makes sense. All of it. This is why I'm here."

There was no time for Coleman to ask what that meant. He ran to the first door, entered the code, and moved on.

He slept fitfully that night and spent the next day pacing and thinking. There had to be an alternative. There had to be! But short of killing Holly and/or himself, there was none. And even that wouldn't ensure the safety of Erin or Holly's family. "Goddamnit!" Coleman cursed out loud. "Fuck you! Fuck you and your fucked up games!"

At some point, Coleman fell asleep until 6pm when he heard The Voice again. "It is time. Punish the whore!"

Coleman had slept so soundly he'd been nearly catatonic for hours. He forced himself to sit up then stand. He made his way to the shower then dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He put on some athletic socks and a pair of gym shoes. Out of habit, he grabbed his Rolex watch and strapped it on his arm.

"At least I can protect her," he told himself. He'd found condoms in a drawer in his bedroom. He opened it and picked up a few of them when the alarm went off. This time, it was so loud it nearly rendered him unconscious. "All right, for Christ's sake! I understand," he hollered as he tossed the condoms back into the drawer.

Coleman made his way through the security system and slowly walked down the hallway to where he found Holly in bed. She was wearing a very expensive white, silk robe with white stockings held in place by a white garter belt, 4" white heels, and a white bustier under the robe.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

"I'm going to put on a show for him," she said matter of factly. "If he thinks he's going to get inside my head by making you fuck me, then I'm going to get inside his by enjoying it. So go ahead, fuck me. Rape me. I don't give a shit. I know you're a decent guy, Pete, and you're only doing what you have to do because of that SOB who brought who us here. So go ahead. Do it."