The clock next to Henry's bed flashed 5:00, and the alarm went off.
He hit it lazily and sat up, just as the phone rang.
It had better not be who I think it is…he thought to himself, answering it reluctantly.
He and Shawn had gotten into yet another fight last night, and this time it was Shawn's turn to initiate the hatchet-burying.
But not at 5 AM.
"What?" He barked into the receiver.
"Henry, oh Henry. Time to wake up," the voice called him.
"Shawn?" He asked the voice didn't belong to his son.
"No, but he's here. Say hi to Daddy, Shawn," the angry voice said. A scream of pain in a familiar voice had Henry's eyes open in a flash.
He didn't have to be told who was screaming.
"Shawn?!"
"Not convinced?" The gravely voice asked. "Want to talk to him again?"
"No! What the hell do you want?"
"Now, now, Henry. Where's the fun in just telling you what I want? Where's the challenge? You like a challenge, don't you?"
Henry was out of bed, pacing the room, his heart in his throat.
"Listen, you son of a—"
"Name-calling? Really, Henry? When I'm holding a knife to your son's throat? I thought you were smarter than that."
He's calm…Henry thought desperately. Calculating…damn it! He's in control! I don't have any leverage!
Henry bit back his pride and rage.
Just for a moment.
Just until he could figure out what to do.
Keep him on the phone…
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "Just tell me what you want."
"That's better."
He's not using an electronic voice modifier…
He's gutsy.
I could i.d. his voice if I heard it again…
That means Shawn could, too.
He has to know that.
The reality suddenly struck Henry.
Hard.
Oh, God.
He doesn't intend to let Shawn go.
He already knows he's going to kill him!
The voice continued to talk.
All Henry could do was listen.
"Listen carefully, Henry. Do exactly what I say, and you just might see your son again."
He's lying…
His voice is too cool, too unaffected.
He's a sociopath.
"I'm listening."
"No, you're not. You're thinking. You're analyzing me, planning your strategy, assessing your options. I know you, Henry. I don't really have your complete and undivided attention."
There was another agonizing scream.
What the hell was he doing to Shawn?
"Do I have your attention now?"
"Yes! I'm listening, damnit!" Henry yelled. "What the hell do you want from me? I'm listening!"
"Good. Shawn, for one, is very relieved to hear it."
"Can I talk to him?"
"You don't have to. You know he's alive, and you know that could change at any moment if I choose. Don't ask any more stupid questions, Henry. It's beneath you. Honestly. In fact, don't talk at all. Just listen."
There was a long pause.
He's waiting for me to say something…
He wants me to screw up…
He didn't fall for it.
"Smart man." The voice acknowledged. "Keep it up, and this will all be over before you know it."
Another agonizing lull.
Don't do it…
Don't do it…
Don't say anything.
"I'm impressed, Henry. You catch on so much faster than most people."
Most people?
He's done this before?
Henry's mind was racing, sifting through thousands of case files, looking for unsolved kidnappings with no ransom demands and suspected torture elements.
"You see," the voice sighed. "There you go again. Analyzing. Planning. Why can't I hold your attention, Henry? I thought hearing your son scream would keep your head in the game."
Henry held his breath, waiting helplessly to hear Shawn scream in pain again.
This time, however, there was nothing.
Is he unconscious?
Dead?
"Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? By now, you've figured out that I don't want money. I don't want a ransom. You can't buy Shawn's life. Not for any price. You have to earn it."
How?
Just tell me how, damnit!
"You want to know how, don't you?" The voice almost sounded amused by the silence, knowing it was killing him.
"It's simple enough. All you have to do is beat me. Beat me at my game when you don't know the rules, and you'll get Shawn back. Alive and mostly well…probably. That depends on you...Oh, and about those rules…just make sure you don't break one. If you break a rule in this game, Shawn dies."
The voice laughed, for the first time.
Low and harsh, like sand in a blender.
"Goodbye, Henry. Have a nice day."
The line went dead.