Yeah, it's been a while. I've been out of town, at stupid day camps and starting high school. Please R&R.

Captive: Chapter Five Thicker

This was exactly like one of those good news/ bad news jokes. Exactly.
The good news was she was no longer starving, merely very unhappy.

The bad news, well, where to begin. She was still stuck in this damn garage which had yet to become drier and warmer in the days/weeks she'd been here. Her escape plan, was...it wasn't going to be easy. And this place was a lot less interesting now that she was no longer at death's door. Just because she wasn't starving didn't mean she wasn't hungry. The assholes.

Veronica grinned savagely, her teeh clenched as she felt the familiar fire of anger pound through her. That was much better. It was a lot easier to be angry than to be scared. Fear was simply not going to work. Fear was going to make her a body floating in a river, hair fanned out around her head, the surrounding water stained a rusty red. She gasped as the image came to her, and fought it off with a practiced ease. Anger was going to get her out of here, a little worse for the wear, but alive and in one peice. All she had to do was wait. Sooner or later (though she was hoping like hell for sooner) these bastards were going down.

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The phone rang, though he found the phone loud an obnoxious and reached out to pick it up, ready to tell off whatever poor soul was on the other end. He just wanted to take the phone and grind it into the ground and then take the peices and...
No. Violence was bad.

/BRING/BRING/ Oh, yeah. Fine. Idiots. He would humor them.

"Keith Mars?" It was him, but he didn't sound like the smug son of a bitch he was used to.

"Yes?" What he really wanted to do was reach through thephone and strangle him, like they always did in those old cartoons.

"Two things. You know Richard Johnson?"

"200 pounds, blond, aggravated assault." He recited in a monotone. This guy had given him three weeks of chase and was a bit of a crazy. the only reason he was still listening, well, knives and mutilated barbies were just his style.

"Well, he was pulling some haunted house crap with police officers." No shit, Sherlock. "He's on bail for 70,000."

"Did he not turn up for his court date?"
"No, no one would post bail.:
Sigh. If he was in jail, then where was his daughter? "What's number two?"

"We found a body down in one of the abandoned lots. Some found it."

Keith's world went cold. No, this was not happening. No, god, no. Why would he tell him this? He racked his brains for an answer that did not mean tragedy for him. . He couldn't find one. Some how he knew exactly what the sheriff was going to say before it was out of his mouth.
"It's a few days old, it's pretty rotten but... It's a blond girl."

The phone slid out of his hands and hit the floor with a clatter. The last thing he realized before his whole world went numb was that the clattering had sounded like bones. How ironic.

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"She saw it."

"No, she didn't. I mean, how can you tell?"

"She picked up a damn ribbon off of it. She was practically standing on it. How could she not have seen it?"

"If she saw it she would've screamed."

"Maybe she wouldn't have screamed. It's just a body, a human that is no longer living. Maybe she thought it was some drunkard that was sleeping. My girl didn't scream when she came to the coroner's office with me."

"Your girl is six. What the hell was she doing in a coroner's office?"

"Nevermind that. She saw it. We need to take care of her."

A loud grunt of protest was heard. "I ain't killing no one."

"Didn't say that."

"How else are you going to take care of her? Dammit, Mike, if we had just moved it farther back like I said or dumped in the ocean."

"Will you just shut up? We ain't gonna kill no one. Won't have to hurt her I don't think."

"Fine."

"Okay then. Let's get started."

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Veronica sat there idely, fiddling her thumbs as another flash of memory came to her. It had happened so often within the past few days, it had already happened twice in the hour since she'd imagined her own dead body. they very seldom made sense, just flashes of things. This one, however was much clearer, concise and longer too.

"I have to go home now."

"Of course you do, honey, do you need a ride?"

"No," she said stiffly. "I have a car."

So she did. She stumbled out of the office, clinging to the banister with knuckles that were growing steadily whiter. She moved stiffly towards her car, threw open the door and collapsed on the seat gracelessly. She fumbled with a keys. starting to drive without even realizing it.
Back up, move out, turn signal, turn signal again, don't hit the kid, it's not nice.
That was when something jolted her very rudely out of her alarmed revery. Had she been stupider she would have a taken it as the car backfiring, but no, it was becoming only more and more apparent, as it happened three times in quick succession.
Someone had blew out her tires. With a gun. She heard the foot steps, heavy boots on concrete as they came towards her, and Veronica did the only thing that made sense. She whirled around with her own pistol and let off three shots of her own.

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"We're just gonna keep her there?"

"For now, yes."

The man let out a sigh of pure relief. "Glad that's over. All the loose ends, isn't it?"

"No."

"No?"

"There's one more witness. We're going to have to take care of her, too."

Hope the long chappie makes up for the wait. I'll get better about updates when I'm not so busy, I swear. Sorry about any spelling errors, this stupid program has no spell check.