She took a deep shaky breath and started again. She pushed until her fingers ached but it did not seem to be working.

But then she felt a slight bit of give. She pulled the pick back carefully, pinched between the knuckled of her pointer and middle fingers and then lowly pushed it forward again.

She heard the slight pop as the pick push through the tape. She carefully continued to push until she felt the pick brush against the skin of her inner wrist.

She started to saw with the pick, working her way upward. She knew that if she sawed at least half of it, shed be able to tear free. But it was slow work and the more she tried at it, the more she sweat. And the more she sweat, the harder it was to saw. But she had to…she had no choice. And as she did, she listened as her captor rambled on over her head.

Each word was like a dagger as he started to talk about her parents but even then, she focused on sawing through the tape with the little pick. Even when she could barely see through the tears that started to spill, she sawed and sawed with her sweaty, trembling fingers.

***

The thing that scared Kate the most was that she did not think Jack Kramer was crazy. Not in any real definable way. He apparently had issues with women, as evidenced by his holding two captive and currently beating the hell out of one who just happened to be fifty-six years old. But crazy…she wasnt so sure.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, Jack said. That idiot told me about this estranged daughter of his but there was another one…a daughter that he told me just sort of slipped away. But one night over beers, I got it out of him. Someone had stolen her from him, some family in a shithole called Deton. He said he wanted to get her back but I knew he never would. That would be responsibility…that would be catering to someones needs other than his own. But I started to think…what if I used the story as blackmail? What if I found the couple that took her and asked for some money? They pay up or Id go to the news.

He smiled, perhaps at what he thought of as the genius of the plan. He started to pace, walking over to an old work bench along the side of the barn. He picked up something from it, something that looked like an old hammer. He hefted it in his hand and came back to her. He showed her the hammer as if he were offering it to her as a gift.