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Over the next nights, Erik showed her other departments. Engineering. Architecture. Business. Law.

Raoul would probably have something to do with the latter two, if his father had anything to say about it. She didn't find them as interesting. There were lots of books. Some posters on the wall about marketing and something called just-in-time manufacturing. Another set of posters about Gross Domestic Product. Another on Digital Marketing.

"Maybe I'll make one called Don't Trust Internet Money," she muttered.

Erik asked, "What gave you the idea to post the videos?"

"Well. I felt bad that I wasn't contributing anything. I told Raoul I could go apply to be a cashier and help out. But he would always laugh and tell me to never worry about that. Not in a mean way. Just like, 'Christine, you barely eat anything. You don't ask for anything. Please don't feel bad. My parents can easily afford to have you here. They could afford like a hundred of you.'" She sighed. "Still, I wanted to do something besides study. Singing was the only thing I'd been told I was okay at. Now even that seems stupid. I obviously had a lot to learn."

"You have a naturally lovely voice. It needed finetuning, molding. But it was always lovely."

"Thanks." She swallowed, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. "But, um, I read a lot online to see if I could make money that way. And people mentioned videos. There was so much to learn. Advertising revenue. View counts. Promotions. I tried. It was all going so slowly. Then I got those messages. I thought it was a miracle." She paused and wondered how much Erik had been involved with the initial events. Had he known about her original kidnapping? She didn't dare ask. Maybe she didn't want to know. The conversation quietly died.

She flipped through a book about tort law. "How can anyone understand this?" she asked.

"Why would anyone want to?" Erik replied.

"But you do understand it, don't you?" she asked. She didn't want him to pretend to be stupid for her sake. Nothing would annoy her more.

"Let me see what you are looking at." She handed him the very thick book. His gaze traveled over the pages quickly. "It is an important case concerning negligence. If property or life are damaged, there is a formula to determine whether someone is liable for negligence. In this case, an unattended barge – boat broke free and hit another boat."

"Oh, okay. Thank you, Erik." He handed the book back to her, and she put it away, deciding she probably didn't want to be a lawyer. Did some people really enjoy reading and analyzing these cases? The types of people her father had scorned. People like the Chagnys – who were probably also very smart and successful.

Was she not going to be successful if she weren't interested in tort law and supply chain management? Or maybe no one was really interested in them but they forced themselves to be so that they could make money? Maybe she would ask Raoul this question, when she saw him again.

If he wasn't furious at her.

Erik's pretty voice broke into her thoughts, "Thankfully, I have something more entertaining planned this evening. They are rehearsing again at the theater, for a spring performance. Would you like to watch, from a distance?"

"Really? Yes, please." She had seen some free plays with her father over the years, in parks and plazas. She had never been to a more expensive one.

He took her into the building that housed the performing arts theater. She saw the glass window where they sold tickets, along with a little café where people could buy coffee and snacks before the show or during intermission. Erik took her up a set of carpeted steps and through a pair of wooden doors. They hid behind a red velvet curtain, high over the stage area, probably near some of the cheaper seating. "Take a look," he said, ushering her in front of him.

And - Christine was immediately and utterly entranced for the next thirty minutes. She loved watching those students, actors and actresses. How they sang and learned their moves and lines. How they seemed to have fun with each other, loving almost every moment of what they were doing. If someone made a mistake, they would laugh together. And when they got it right, she could see this glowing sense of accomplishment in their eyes. She listened to them sing and compared them to herself. Yes, she still had a ways to go. But maybe a little less of a ways now. Her eyes stayed on the female lead for a while, a very slender girl with short brunette hair. The guy who was playing what seemed to be a villain snuck up behind her at one point, making her squeal. She hit him on the shoulder, and they laughed.

They all looked…so damned happy.

Christine felt a mild sense of loss at never getting to spend much time around people her own age. For a moment, she wished she was that girl.

"It's time to go."

She had nearly forgotten where she was and who was with her. She had forgotten everything. "Oh, okay." She slowly backed up and then followed him out.

Christine realized that those students were also the first people she had seen in a long time who looked like they might be able to help her. And yet…she didn't want to get them killed.

"You enjoyed it?" Erik asked, his voice warm.

"I loved it," she admitted, casting another glance behind them.

"Yes, you are smiling. You have a beautiful smile. Perhaps you will be part of something similar someday. Would you like that? You can easily be good enough. For a college production? Easily."

When Erik said things like that, she truly believed he might keep his word. He seemed to care about her future. It was why she didn't completely obsess over a dangerous escape. It made everything more complicated, in some ways. "Maybe. I'm not much of a dancer, though."

"Not every performance requires that talent. Have you had lessons?"

"No."

"Then how would you even know if you are not good at it?" Erik added, "I will not be teaching you that, though."

She smirked slightly. "You don't dance, Erik?"

"Never. Traumatizing for all involved, I imagine."

She laughed and thought back to the play. "So that was about…an evil plant that grants wishes?"

"Something like that," he said. "It is a bit inane, isn't it?"

"Well, I liked it." A pause. "What would you ask for?"

"What would I ask for?"

"Well, the plant gives you things if you feed it, right?"

He stared. "You answer that first, my dear."

"Um. Maybe enough money to buy my own house and go to college and live off all that for a while. So I don't have to depend on anyone. Enough to take care of myself."

"You would feed someone to a plant for a living wage?" he asked.

"This is all imaginary fun!"

"No, no. I like it."

"Well, what would you want?"

He stared at her for the longest moment, so long that she became extremely uncomfortable. "I had one answer. And then I had another," he murmured.

"What were they?"

She thought she was going to get something meaningful from him, was on the brink of it. But he straightened his shoulders, looked up, and said, "What I really need is a new wrench. Because my current one is utterly inadequate."

He walked on. She sighed and ran to keep up with him. He slowed when they reached a set of stairs, and she accidentally bumped into his side and arm. He flinched and sharply glanced down at her. "Sorry," she murmured, her face warming. She stepped away. After a second, she said, "Thanks for showing me all these things."

He started down the stairs and replied, "You have options now. And that is what you needed. Choices concerning the direction of your life."

"Erik." She climbed down the steps and shakily continued, "You know…this all…well, this sounds like, after two months or whatever it is now, a new beginning for both of us. We can get out of this. Right? You, too." A pause. "Because you stopped…do you want out of…crime?"

"Killing him will be a crime."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I know. And you're certain we can't just have him arrested?"

"Quite certain. It will not work. And then you can never be safe. Or free."

"And I suppose you won't be either," she murmured. Erik didn't respond. "I don't know. Well, after you do…that, can you move on?"

"What does it matter what I do next?" he softly asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. You're smart. Probably the smartest person I've ever met. I…you have so many talents. I'd kill to have that many talents. Not literally! No evil plants involved. But you could have a new life and stop doing these things."

He laughed. They were in a hallway now, so it echoed. With his strange voice, the sound was a little eerie. The laugh was not so nice.

"What?" She crossed her arms.

"You…you just reminded me of someone."

"Who?"

"Oh, this silly man who used to follow me around and say that he believed in me. But you are much prettier than he was, so I will forgive you."

"Who is this person?" she asked.

"I had forgotten. He…"

And then, suddenly, Erik stopped talking. His eyes grew very disturbed. She had never seen him look that way. His whole body tensed. He stared off into the darkness, as though he had seen a demon.

"Let's go home," he said in a clipped voice.

She didn't dare argue.

The drive to their first destination was about an hour. Saeed asked Raoul if he wanted to grab breakfast from a fast-food place. Raoul agreed. So Saeed's car soon smelled like hash browns and Canadian bacon. Saeed had satellite radio and turned it to classic rock. The sound of that and fast-food wrappers crinkling filled the silence.

Saeed then tried to make a little bit of small talk, asking Raoul about how he and Christine had met. It was a sweet story. He realized that Christine was kind of a rags to riches figure. Raoul's family sounded less than pleasant about the situation.

Maybe wanting to take some attention off himself, Raoul asked, "What made you decide to be a cop?"

"That was a long time ago. I grew up fairly poor. My parents were immigrants. They tried to get a small business going, a restaurant, but they really struggled. As a teenager, I saw a lot of crime in my city. I even saw a murder. This poor older woman, shot as someone grabbed her purse. Right in front of me. I wanted to make a difference."

Raoul nodded. "That makes sense. I don't think I'd have the, you know, personality for it. I'd be on edge all the time. But it's cool that you did. Then you were a private investigator?"

"Yes. I did some good work with the police. Helped catch some murderers, even a serial killer. But I clashed with some of my superiors, who were a bit more, eh, rigid than I was. I didn't feel like it was a great victory arresting someone who was living in their car, just because they had a gram of meth on them. Was that really making the world a better place? I got away from that kind of work once I became a police detective. But the general environment was still there."

"Makes sense," said Raoul.

Saeed knew that Raoul had lived far away from that sort of world and didn't have much to offer the conversation. He was a good kid, though. Open to ideas and experiences. Most of the rest of their drive was pretty quiet. Raoul softly asked once, "Do you think she is alive? Honestly."

"I don't know, Raoul. Honest opinion? Fifty, fifty."

"Why would she be alive at all?"

Saeed's stomach turned. "Well, she could be a hostage for him, if he needs it."

"That's it?"

"Don't know." Saeed didn't want to talk about the other possibility, but he suspected Raoul already knew it. If Erik was a monster, then he was a monster. No sugarcoating it.

That was why they had to stay calm and take each moment by each moment. If they found her alive, then there would be counseling, mental health services, medication. One step at a time.

It had been a while since Saeed had been to this location. He had only visited Erik here a couple of times. They wouldn't stay long, walking to a piano bar down the road where they would sit in a dark corner, so that Erik didn't stand out. The area hadn't changed much, only gotten a little older.

Saeed parked on the side of the street and stared at the two-story brick building. The club wasn't open yet, so no one was around, which is what he had planned on.

"Well, I hope I can still access the apartment," said Saeed.

Raoul stared at their rough surroundings. "Yeah."

"If you see anyone suspicious follow me, call me, all right?"

"I'll watch."

Saeed gently smiled. "You okay here?"

"Great."

Saeed climbed out of the car and headed for the building. The club was through the locked metal double doors with "DOLLS" and the pink outline of a nude woman over it. However, the nearby steps to the little apartment remained unblocked. The wooden stairs creaked beneath his weight as he climbed. A door with chipped black paint sat at the top. Saeed tried the door, but it was locked.

He was about to knock, only to get a quick look inside. A younger brunette with very voluminous, curly hair and bright red lipstick opened the door, wearing a short purple robe over a black camisole and tight dark blue jeans. Saeed blinked in surprise. "Can I help you?" she asked with suspicion.

Saeed tried to see around her into the apartment. It looked much different now. Nicer, actually. Leather sofas and glass tables. "No. I'm sorry. I think I've made a mistake." Saeed took a step backward. "Will you answer one question for me, and then I'll stop bothering you?"

"Mhm?"

"How long have you lived here?"

"Lived here?" She laughed at him. "Honey, I don't live here." She eyed him. "Are you a cop? Go talk to Vincent. He deals with all of you."

"No. I swear I'm not a cop. I don't care what goes on here. I'm looking for someone who used to live here. How long has this space been rented?"

"I dunno. When that came, I guess." She pointed to the club below them. "Think that was, like, three years ago. Four. Something like that. Like I said, Vincent can help you out, you know?" She gave him a knowing stare.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm done here. Thank you. You have a nice evening, Ma'am."

Saeed got the hell out of there before he had to deal with someone named Vincent. He went back to his car and quickly climbed in.

"Everything okay?" Raoul asked.

"Yes. Erik's definitely not here. Hasn't been for a long time. You didn't see anything?"

"Nope. I mean, I think saw some, um, prostitutes."

"Good. I mean, good that you didn't see anyone suspicious."

Silence.

Raoul cleared his throat. "Where to next?"

"Home. And then we'll plan the next trip after I figure out where this other place was. It's a very small one. A garage of this abandoned auto shop. I'll see if it still exists."

"Can't wait," Raoul muttered.

For the next five minutes, Erik's attention was completely off her.

He grabbed the computer, sat at the kitchen table, and frantically typed something. Christine picked up the horticulture book and took a seat on the couch. She continuously glanced at him from the side, not brave enough to ask what had upset him so much.

Then she heard him sigh. Looking at his eyes, Christine was certain that she saw relief. "That idiot I was telling you about," Erik began. "He does real estate now. Real estate. How boring." Erik started laughing. There was legitimate joy in the sound, more emotion than she usually heard from him.

Something had just happened, something she didn't understand.

"What was his name?" she cautiously asked, hoping Erik hadn't lost his mind.

"Saeed. Dreadful Saeed."

She didn't even know what to ask beyond that. The significance of the moment was lost on her. Another strange dimension to Erik.

Erik continued to type. She tried to turn her head and take a peek. He was in a word processor. But she couldn't see what he was writing. He continued this for several minutes.

When he was finished, he closed the laptop, stood, and came to her. She leaned back slightly, unsure of him. "Do you need anything?" he asked her with slight intensity. "Anything to make you more comfortable?"

"No. I'm fine. I'll probably go to bed soon."

He nodded. "I will see you tomorrow. Forgive me for my…my interruption tonight. I will make it up to you. We will watch more rehearsals."

"Okay, Erik. That sounds great."

She did go to bed. But it was difficult to get to sleep. Too many questions in her head. Too much confusion. Too much uncertainty for the future.

Christine finally got up and cracked open her door, not knowing what time it was. Probably past midnight. What did Erik do at night? Did he ever sleep? She wandered into the living area first and didn't see him. The laptop was also gone.

Where was he? The office maybe?

The door was closed, but she could see light beneath it. After a hesitation, she slowly opened it without causing a squeak. At worst, he would yell at her.

She started. Erik was asleep at the desk, head on his folded arms. He still wore the mask. The gloves, hat, and his suit jacket were all off. He wore only a white button-down dress shirt. He looked very thin, almost fragile.

Her eyes softened for a moment.

But then she looked up.

Monitors were all around him. Like five of them. She squinted. They were showing pictures of what? The nighttime? Outside? A sidewalk in front of a building. An empty office. Places she had never seen.

"What are you doing?" He spoke to her harshly, head up now.

She jumped back in surprise. "I couldn't sleep," she murmured, tearing her gaze away from the screens. "I saw the light…What is all this?"

He hesitated. "My part of the deal. Surveillance. Intelligence gathering."

"Oh." So that's what he did at night. She hadn't thought about how much work it might take. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"You want to help kill someone?"

"…No."

"I thought not." They stared at each other for a long moment. "You should go back to bed."

She really didn't like the thought of him having to kill for her, even though he had told her that the murder was entirely for him. She didn't know if she believed that. After that first chaotic night, all the violence, murder had seemed wrong – but also seemed to fit the situation. But now with everything calmer, with music and night walks and gentle chats and theatre, it seemed extra wrong.

She remembered their unfinished conversation from earlier. "Erik, you're going to have a new life, too, right? After this? You won't have to do these things anymore?"

"What I do after all this does not affect you."

He was right, wasn't he?

Then why did it bother her?

"Maybe…maybe I'll find that Saeed guy, and we can convince you," she gently teased.

"I imagine he hates me now." He looked down. "Perhaps you do, too."

"I don't hate you, Erik," she replied with ease. "I just…I feel like all I can see is the moment in front of me these days. Get up. Spend time with you. Go to bed."

"Do you hate that time?"

"No. I don't. I like talking to you. I've learned a lot and - But it feels like there's a storm all around me, that I can't understand. There are people killing each other. And danger. And I'm here in this weird bubble with no control over anything. And you won't tell me very much…"

"That was my intention," Erik said. "To create this safe place for you. You should be protected from the rest. You should never have been involved in any of this. That is the greatest crime. Perhaps someday you can forget it all, Angel."

Angel. Before she could reply, there was movement on one of the screens. They both looked.

"A dog," explained Erik. "My target owns several Rottweilers."

"Is he nice to them?" She didn't know why she asked. Maybe to find some reason not to kill this man, some piece of good in him, so that she could take Erik down another path. And stop the bloodshed.

"They are trained killers that guard his home. They fulfill their purpose. So he doesn't interact with them at all."

"Oh." A pause. "Poor doggies."

She saw Erik actually cringe, as though she had just insulted him. "Please go to bed. I will see you tomorrow."

She didn't understand. What had she said? She did feel bad for the dogs. "All right. Goodnight, Erik. I'll see you tomorrow."

She closed the door.

That was the night she started to dread her day of freedom even while she hoped for it.