To Abigail’s greater astonishment, the white-haired man proceeded to recite to Abigail, in grim detail, his day: an early-morning conference call with clients in Tampa and Dallas; a luncheon meeting at the club with ___, ___, and ___; much of the afternoon spent at his desk, going over accounts with ___; then, on the phone with ___; then, another conference call with clients in San Diego and Houston—

Abigail interrupted: “Excuse me!—but I want to go home …”

The white-haired man ceased speaking. A coarse red blush deepened at the nape of his neck. All this while he’d been standing with his back to Abigail, stiff and unyielding, refusing to face her. She sensed that he was very angry; he had not liked being interrupted in the midst of his report, which had seemed to him important and should have impressed his listener.

“I—I said—I want to go home … You’ve locked me in here, I don’t belong here, I want to go home.”

Abigail was shivering violently. The sensation of faintness deepened. She said, stammering, “You—you have no right to keep me here! It’s against the law—to keep me against my will! I never consented. I don’t know you. I had an accident on the road, but I’m not injured—I don’t need any medical care—I’ve been able to rest, and I’m ready now to leave—I want to go home.”

“Darling, you are home. Please just get into bed.”

Gently, grimly, the man reasoned with Abigail. He was several inches taller than she and at least thirty pounds heavier, his breathing audible. He might have been appealing to a neutral observer—he was being the most reasonable of men.

Abigail protested: “I—I am not home. I don’t know who you are. This is wrong—this is not my home …”

“Of course this is your home! You’re just very tired, dear. It’s time for your medication.”

“No! No medication!”

Abigail’s voice rose in alarm. The white-haired man dared not press the issue.

“It’s a mistake. I don’t belong here. There was a detour. At North Ridge Road …”

Buoyantly these words came to Abigail, as precious as a life jacket to one drowning in treacherous waters—North Ridge Road.

Other words she’d lost, could not retrieve, but somehow these crucial words had returned to her, which she was sure would impress her captor.