8. Unexpected revelations

In the morning he did not feel like getting up, unlike Sandrine. The girl sat on her bed, her book in her hands looking at him. She almost said 'Morning', but she could not manage to say it loud.

"If you want you can take you time in the bath."

"I'm used to be fast. In my first school I was always under five minutes."

Leaving he asked: "How comes that?"

"I liked to sleep out. We had to get up 45 minutes before breakfast, I got up 10 minutes before - but I made it mostly in time."

"What happened if you didn't?"

"I didn't get anything for breakfast."

"Let me guess - your father picked that school for you."

"Of course - talking about breakfast, is there something we can eat?"

"Only what's in the freezer," he replied and got up.

Maybe a shower would wake him up. He told Sandrine that he would buy something fresh then. Quickly they got ready to continue their journey. In the next small village Pick stopped by a food-shop and returned with some fruits.

"That's better than fast food, isn't it?"

Sandrine grabbed a fruit, bit into it and replied after chewing on it: "Much better."

At least today it appeared to her that Pick was not up to continue his cruel game with her, but she might be wrong. Meanwhile her kidnapper decided to make a new attempt for conversation.

"Have you finished school now?"

"Yes, I'm seventeen."

"True - but you never know."

For a moment he thought that he lost it again, but then his hostage said: "Luckily I didn't have to do any extra turns."

"Was it at stake?"

"Almost - My father took me out of my old school and I haven't taken it well."

"Why was that?"

"Because I had a very good friend - my roommate - at that school. In fact she was the only real friend I had. Not only that he sent me to another school, he somehow managed to break off all contact between us."

Her voice was full of hate while she spoke. Sandrine was surprised of how much it still upset her to think about Tessa. She had tried to find out what happened to her, but her father moved her to a different school. Sandrine had the bad feeling that something bad had happened to her friend.

Pick was quite interested in this topic. He saw that this was slippery ground, but he decided it was worth the risk. If he found out at what terms she was with her stepfather it would could help Fouchon.

"You are not always happy about your father's decisions?"

Never Van Cleaf would have expected this reaction. Sandrine turned her head, looked at him and yelled: "Not always? Never! He is an asshole - always afraid that someone might have fun somewhere."

She suddenly stopped realizing what she had just done. Sandrine felt the heat of her anger vanishing. Her whole body trembled, she did not even realised that Pick was not upset. In fact he smiled like someone who just got wonderful news. The way she had let her feelings go reminded him of Fouchon. Now their was no doubt left, about her being his daughter. He happily looked at her, but he managed to ban the smile from his face. His co-driver looked at him and her expression showed that she was worried.

"I'm sorry, it's just, whenever something good happens to me my father ruins it - and if something bad happens he is responsible."

"Sounds like he is nobody someone likes to have as a father."

"You can say this loudly." She turned her eyes back to the street and mumbled: "At least he isn't my real father."

Now Van Cleaf was really surprised, he stepped of the gas. He could not believe what she just had said. Slowly pronouncing every single world he asked her: "What exactly did you mean with saying 'at least he isn't my real father?"

Sandrine stared at him. She was a bit shocked about his reaction. Sandrine was concerned that if she told him the truth about her father that she might loose her status as a valuable hostage or that it would annihilate any reason keeping her alive. As Pick saw this he added: "Whatever you say only improves your situation."

The girl realised that there was no way to avoid an answer. She always favoured telling the truth rather than lies.

"You are familiar with blood types?" she asked him.

"Yes, I am."

"I've got Type O negative and he's got Type AB positive. So it's impossible that he is my real father."

"Nice," Pick said driving faster again.

He couldn't believe that the girl held her father responsible for the situation she was in. She really hated him and she already knew that he was not her father. Also he knew that Fouchon would be very happy when he hears this, he decided it could wait. While should Fouchon stop sitting on hot charcoal's before he could? He still got nothing out of this.

Pick looked at the clock - only half of the day was over. It would be a hard time, driving all day was not easy. Van Cleaf liked to find out more about her, but he thought it might be better to stop any further attempts for the next hours. He had already discovered enough. So for some time they remained silent.

"It is boring driving for hours, isn't it?" she suddenly said.

Her voice sounded a bit thin, but Pick was glad that she tried to do some conversation on her own. She was a brave girl for sure.

"Indeed, it is," he replied carefully.

"I'm afraid I can't drive."

"Your father did not want you to - I expected this. It is alright."

Sandrine felt a bit better, now he did not seemed to be that scary anymore. A strange feeling still lasted when she thought about it, but she tried hard no to think about what happened.

"May I ask you something?" he asked her suddenly.

"What is it?" She said, expecting him to ask something uncomfortable. He had been friendly for some time now and half way she expected him to do something that would make her faint. Yesterday she had been close to do so.

"Why don't you tell me a bit more about you? It might help to pass the time."

"And what?" Sandrine was still suspicious. If she told him more about herself, he could use it against her.

"You said your father took you out of school. Any special reason?"

"We were caught as we returned from a party in the morning."

"We?"

"Tessa and I. Father said she had a bad influence on me. She was my friend, even if she could talk me into something, she wouldn't do it. Either we both were in the mood or none of us went out. And that she advised me in lock-picking was our secret. There was no way he could know about it."

Van Cleaf smiled, she had indeed done good work on the door lock.

"So you happened to be in a school for difficult children?"

"Yes and I learned some interesting things from the other girls, although I haven't tested them all."

"Not exactly what your stepfather had in mind."

"I guess not," Sandrine said and smiled a bit, "but he only sees what he wants to see."

"Therefore that dress," Pick stated.

"I'm his little girl. Yesterday he ...," Sandrine stopped. She wasn't sure if it was good idea to tell him what the reason why he had met her on the street really was. He wondered how she and her stepfather got along with each other nowadays.

"Yesterday?"

"We had a little argumentation about me wearing jeans."

This was no lie and from her statement he could not think of what happened. What exactly happened in their hotel room? She had been so angry, that there had not been any time to think it over. Now with enough time passed, she still had the feeling that leaving her father had been the best thing she could do. Maybe the time was not that good, but they would never have got along with each other.

She looked at Pick who had left her to her thoughts. What plans did they have for her? Did they want revenge for something her father had done to them in the past? At least he had gone crazy when he had seen Fouchon. How did her mother fit into this?

Then they stopped again at a small gas station. Her watch showed 4 p.m.

"Are you now hungry?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm afraid I can't take you to a restaurant until we left the country, so the gas station will have to do. Think about it while I refuel the car."

Then he got out. This whole day he tried to be nice to her, considering his behaviour the two past days, she wondered what he would do tomorrow. As long as he was in this mood, she decided to take advantage of it.

After they had fuel again, he asked her what she wanted. Sandrine named a few things, he nodded and went inside. Also she was out of sight and it took him some time to get out again, she remained in the car. She liked to get out and have a walk, but she didn't want to anger him.

He didn't waste much time, he handed her the bag with food and started again.

They talked sometime about food, while they were eating and continued afterwards as they discovered that they shared a common love for steaks and some other meals. Meanwhile it was getting darker and Sandrine considered asking him how far he wanted to go this night.

"Is it possible that we could eat something for real, I mean I like fast-food and chips, but nothing beats a real meal."

"I agree with you, but it's to dangerous to go into a real restaurant, somebody might recognise you."

Sandrine almost expected this answer, even though the last picture her father got from her was two years old, if her father showed it around, someone might still identify her. Then she got an idea.

"I would need two things from a drugstore and an hour, after that no one will recognise me."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Get a haircut and dye my hair black."

Pick looked at her to imagine how she would look.

"I always wanted to do that, but I knew that it would only be good for more trouble when I'm back home."

"That might indeed work out, if I see a possibility to get what you need, we can give it a try. What besides hair colour do you need?"

"Scissors, of course or do you have one with you?"

"No, although it is very useful equipment."

Sandrine was not sure why he was again smiling like a child in front of a pile of presents, but she decided that she was not interested in the answer. She liked to ask him again, what they would do with her upon reaching their destination, but she did not expected him to have changed his mind. So she became quite once more.

The shop he stopped by supplied everything she would need. He even told her to buy all kind of cosmetics she would need. At first she just picked a few things out, but it seemed not enough for him.

"Don't tell me this is all you need. I might not know what women use specifically, but I do know that it is much more."

Pick was proud that he thought of this. His hostage might come to the conclusion that if he was willing to spend a lot of money on this, killing her anytime soon could not be the purpose. Telling her this straight would not have convinced her. About this point Fouchon was right for sure. Furthermore - was it not a nice gesture?

Sandrine hurried while collecting cosmetics that would last for a month, provided that she would go out every night. As they left the shop it was already dark and they had lost over half an hour. Pick looked at her.

"We go on a bit longer tonight and before we continue in the morning you can take care of your hair."

"Ok", she replied wondering how long he would get along with less sleep. She decided to ask him.

"I don't need that much sleep and besides I can rest when we have arrived."

After a two hours they checked into a motel. It was already routine for Pick. He could not help but observe the girl from time to time a bit closer, but besides that he considered himself more than successful in dealing with Sandrine so far.

Lying in her bed Sandrine was surprised, how fast she got used to the situation - even to the handcuffs. The girl began to believe that in the end everything would turn out good. This was not an ordinary kidnapping, was it? After all travelling with Van Cleaf was not that bad. Even though he still scared her sometimes - especially when he looked or smiled at her, he had not tried to intermediate or to terrorise her. Even the girl was aware how hard this is for him.