Chapter 8: Silver and Secrets

I came to very slowly. I was still sitting against the wall facing the door. I felt sluggish and slightly lightheaded, probably a combination of stress and low blood sugar. Since there wasn't anything for it at this point, I just waited. The same jingly and scratchy sound that I didn't identify at first. Very slowly the door opened, creaking as it was pushed back on its hinges. Dim light peaked around the thin figure who stood in the doorway.

My whole body tensed up and I just waited. The figure stepped into the doorway and little more and I could make out some vague features: a girl, just a bit thinner than me but taller. Since the lamp in my room had blown, I had been sitting in the door going between sleep and wakefulness. My eyes and head really appreciated the dim back lighting.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice hoarse with disuse.

She did not answer but stepped toward me and held out her hands. I did not even hesitate. From the first moment I woke up here, it seemed no one had been trying to hurt me. I figured a little bit of trust might go a long way at this point. I grasped her hands and stood up on shaking legs to discover that I was fairly sore from hitting the ground when Amber was pulled up short. I quickly banished the thought from my mind. If this was going to be dangerous, I needed my wits about me. I could deal with it all later, if I ever got home, that is.

This girl is really tall and seems to be a few years older than me, from what I can discern of her face in the dim light. Her hair is dark and cropped very close, almost a buzz cut. She is wearing black jeans and a long black tunic that seems to be made of some sheer material. She turned her head towards me and I noted that silver rings (I counted five of them) graced the lobe of each ear. She is barefoot. I follow her from the tiny room down a long hallway and into a surprisingly large eat-in kitchen.

She pulls a chair out for me from a dark wooden table, so I sit down. So far this kidnapped business is awfully pleasant. That was a stupid thought.

I watch her closely but she seems to offer me no malice. She is quiet but quick and within a few seconds she has come around to the table with a plate of sandwiches and cans of Coke. She sits down across the table from me but I am still hesitant to take anything offered. I have been kidnapped, you know. She just cocks an eyebrow at me (which is adorned with a small silver ball) and tucks into one of the sandwiches. It does not appear that she was picky about which one she grabbed and I am starting to feel a little faint. I need to eat and since I really have no idea how long I've been here, I really need to make the best of the situation. I grab one of the sandwiches off the plate and realize I am so hungry that I can barely the taste the roast beef and Swiss on rye. I close my eyes for a moment and Daddy's face swims into my view. I need to keep control of myself. I know they will find me, it's what they do. I need to stay calm.

I have already finished two sandwiches and I'm starting on the third when the girl across from me decides to talk. Her voice is soft and airy, someone who perhaps is a bit shy?

"My name is Heather." I swallow the bite I just took from the bread and take a swig from my Coke can (the second one.) I try hard to think like Papa, but she is giving nothing away. Her name doesn't mean anything to me.

She sits with her hands folded on the table, palms down. Perhaps to show me that she means no harm?

"Sophie, you are here because my mom did something really stupid and I need your dads to fix it for me."

Say what? I almost choke but somehow manage to hold it all together. I clear my throat. "Well, you could have just asked me that. What's with all this?" I wave my hand around the room. I am really not sure what the proper kidnapper-kidnapee etiquette is.

Heather shrugs her shoulders in my direction and picks up another sandwich. I'm starting to think we have a magic plate here, it just keeps giving and giving... I am starting to feel a little more normal now, not quite as woozy. Since it seems like no one is going to come flying into the room armed, I've got to ask some more question. She chews thoughtfully and nods at me, I've got the floor. Alright.

"So let me get this straight. You want my dads' help. Fine. Wouldn't there have been an easier way, to I don't know, maybe send an email or knock on the front door? And what about my horse? If she's badly injured..."

Heather held up a hand to stop me. She was awfully good at this for someone so young. "Yes. That was unfortunate. I do believe the little mare is okay, but she did sustain an injury to her neck. Apparently some people could botch the easiest jobs."

I get the feeling I'm not going to get much more about that out of her. Fine.

"So why then?"

"Mom always said the easiest way to get Sherlock's undivided attention is to give him a puzzle to solve."

Well, now, that's pretty much the truth. I can't argue with it. "You do realize that when they find me, and they will, they are going to be coming in for blood, right?" This whole conversation is so surreal.

"Yeah, I considered that. But I think I can make them understand that I really mean you no harm. I really need some help."

Where exactly is this going? I look at her again, trying to find something I missed before (which was probably everything.) Nothing about her has changed in the past few minutes. I have noticed that her skin is a few shades darker than my own, her eyes are hazel-almost copper, and she's also got a stud in her nose. Well, so far I can tell she likes piercings and her parentage is probably something exotic. Her accent though, is all England, so no clues there that I can suss out. Papa probably can...No. Can't do this now.

I sit back a little in my chair and just wait.

"Sophie, I really didn't mean to keep you in that room for so long. The...people...my associates who are helping me in this situation got a little overly excited and brought you here a day too early. Please accept my apologies."

God how could any female on earth remind me so much of my Uncle Mikey? I guess I should play along. "Alright." That is the best answer I can come up with.

Heather stands up and moves away from the table. I follow her and find myself in a good-sized bedroom/sitting room suite. There are bookcases all around the walls, a computer on a desk, and a large flat-screened TV. Well, kidnappees can't be choosers I guess. Heather steps back and lets me pass her into the room.

"I am going to go now, but you can stay in here. Unfortunately, I have to lock the door to make sure you remain safe." Bait, she means. I am the bait for my dads. I am not so sure that Heather knows how dangerous this whole thing could really get. "There is no internet access here, but you can watch the telly and maybe play some games. I'm sorry I have to do this, but there is no other way."

She steps back out of the room and closes the door. My heart is racing and my head is pounding. I wander into the little bathroom, at least there are clean towels and soap. A soak would help the sore muscles. I use the facilities and turn on the faucet. I test the water with my hand, it is good and hot. I let the water run and while I am waiting on the tub to fill, I wander around the room. There are two windows, one in the bedroom area and one in the sitting area. They are both covered with sheer white curtains. I pull the curtains back. The windows have both been reinforced with bars and padlocks. I turn back toward the bathroom on legs that seem to have gone unsteady again.

Just how long am I going to be here?

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Notes: Yeah, I made up my own word, there. Do you like it?