"I worry about you, Veronica. You can't live like this, you'll give me a heart-attack." Dad said. I could hear him pacing over the phone.

I pulled into the parking lot, and took the keys out of the ignition. "Dad, please don't worry. After this, I won't be taking on too many cases for a while." I replied.

"What exactly does that mean?" he asked, obviously concerned. I struggled to hide a smile and cleared my throat.

"I'll explain it to you later. But for now, I have to finish this case. I have to find Heidi." I responded, hoping he would leave it at that.

"Okay, I'm get the message, you want me to go. Okay. Bye, I love you."

"Bye Dad. I lo-"

I'm about to say I love you too, about to wish him goodbye, when the bullet shatters the window screen.

"Veronica?"

"Veronica?"

"Veronica!"

Where the heck are you, Veronica?

I didn't even like this stupid plan. Using her as bait, in her condition. But would she listen? Of course not. Too stubborn.

Hurry, V.

I'm watching the camera's from the comfort of a van parked just down the road, near an empty industrial estate.

The diner is surrounded, men perched on rooftops and hidden behind trash cans.

Veronica called 'Heidi' two hours ago with the information. Arranged a time and place to meet. She even bought the stupid shoes.

But she's not here.

"Hey Mac, you see any sign of her?" Lamb buzzes through my earpiece. I scan the four camera's and see nothing. "Perhaps she parked her car in one of the corner's of the parking lot. I told you, these bastard camera's don't reach everywhere." I tell him.

I'm hoping this is the case.

The coffee beside me has gone cold from waiting, but I take a sip anyway.

Where is she?

God, that coffee tasted awful.

"Hey, I've got something!" Someone yells over my earpiece. I see four officer's moving in the corner of my screen, and zoom in.

"What have you got?" I ask, but by now they're off screen, weapons drawn.

"There's a car with bullet hole in windscreen!" I hear.

Calm down Mac, I tell myself. It could be-

An officer rattles of the number plate, and it matches Veronica's car.

"VERONICA!"

By now I'm out of the van, down the road, and running towards the car; tears streaming down my face. "Is she dead? Is she DEAD?" I plead, but no one answers. The car door is open, her mobile is on the seat, and splash of blood decorates the head rest.

There is no sign of Veronica.

Her body is surprisingly light, and we carry her with ease. We put her in the trunk of the car, wrapped in blankets.

My phone rings.

"So? Is it all going to plan?" Pappa asks.

I glance at the gun tossed on the back seat.

"Not exactly."

Wet and damp.

Mould.

The smell of decay.

I feel the cloth bag pulled from my head, and try to open my eyes, but the darkness persists. Beside me, something emits a shadow of warmth, and I turn my head to the left. My head aches, and a drop of blood falls down the side of my face.

Now I begin to remember.

The bullet scraped my head. Nothing serious. But then the hands, strong and male, dragging me out the car. The butt of a gun hitting my head and then...

Here.

"Hel... help... me" A voice moans. I try turning more, but my hands and feet are tied down to the chair.

"Hello? What's your name?" I ask, trying to keep them awake. I do not want to be stuck in the dark by myself.

"He.."

"Help? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Heidi."

Gasping, I try to reach for her. Thank god, she's still alive. "Heidi, my name is Veronica, I'm a private investigator. There are people looking for you. For both of us. Your fiancee, John, he's okay, he loves and misses you." I say, anything to cheer her hopes up. The urge to talk to Logan grows inside me. If only I could tell him the same. "Heidi, you have to stay awake, so I can get us both out of here. Heidi, please, stay-"

A door opens, allowing a sliver of light in. I see her now, huddled on the floor, a mess of chocolate brown hair, blood and bruises.

"Hi there girls." Someone says. A light bulb flickers on, and I see him. Donald Wascoe.

Walking around the dingy subterranean chamber, he comes to a stop in front of me, and kneels. His smile is like the Cheshire cat. Donny takes of his glasses, and I notice his eyes. Deep green, irises dilated, almost beautiful. Almost. He reaches out a hand, and strokes my cheek. I pull away, but the quick movement springs new pain from my head wound.

"Don't worry girls. It will all be over soon."