"Remember, Peter," Kermit cautioned, "Unless she comes right out and admits it, you don't know that it's Sara you're talking to."
"I may be scared shitless, but I'm not stupid, Kermit!" Peter snapped, glaring at his friend, who flinched at the venom in the distraught detective's tone.
Instantly contrite, Peter rested his elbows on his desk, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I'm sorry. I… "
"Forget it, Kid," Kermit said gruffly. "We're all on edge." Looking over at Blake, he asked, "All set?"
"Let's roll." Blake started his various electronic gizmos and peered intently over his glasses at Kermit. "Say the word on when to send the next bullet."
Peter brought up his message and tapped out a cigarette, lighting it as he waited for the site to download.
"Whoever this guy helping Sara is, he's good," Kermit muttered, "But I'm better, and so help me God, I'm gonna nail his ass."
Peter's monitor lit up with the familiar pale background. The ski-masked face appeared as usual, with one glaring exception: the black eyes were now a vivid green.
Peter stared at the figure on his screen through narrowed eyes that glittered murderously. {I will kill you for what you're doing to my wife. Even if I get her back safely, I will kill you.}
When the voice spoke, the message was ungarbled. {Sara's getting sloppy here,} thought Peter. {Didn't even turn on her little machine.}
"That's not a very happy face, Caine. What, you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"
"It's afternoon."
"My, my, my. We sound a little testy today. Watch your attitude, Detective. We've had this discussion about attitude before."
"What can I say? I miss my wife." Picking up his cigarette from the ashtray, he inhaled deeply.
"Do you keep talking about her just to irritate me?"
Peter shrugged nonchalantly and casually blew out a smoke ring even as his heart thundered in his chest. "She's my wife; she's carrying my child. It's only natural I be concerned about her, isn't it?"
"You really ought to be more concerned about me, and keeping me happy."
"If you say so. When do I find out the where and when of things today?"
"Check your snail mail. I sent you a letter. Open it in front of me and make sure no one else sees it."
Peter started pawing through the mail on his desk that had been piling up for the past two days, until he found a plain white envelope without a return address. Holding it up with a trembling hand, he asked, "This it?"
"Open it and keep it right in front of you so I can see that only you are looking at it."
Peter tore the envelope, holding it carefully in front of the camera as he did so. Pulling out a small piece of paper, he scanned it quickly. "Now what?"
"Burn the message. Hold it high so I can watch you do it."
Peter did as he was told, gripping the note in his fingers as long as possible before dropping the curling, blackening paper into his ashtray.
"Sure you won't forget the information?"
Staring at the face, he snarled, "Positive. And before you ask, I'll be there alone and unarmed. No tricks. You have my word that I won't try anything."
"Yeah, whatever else you might be, you were always a man of your word. Tonight, then."
"Wait!" Peter leaned forward tensely. "First you let me see my wife. How do I know you haven't killed her already?"
"You know, your attitude is getting awfully tiring."
Peter stubbornly held his ground. "I want to see for myself that Kacie is all right. If I don't see her, no deal. You get nothing."
Sara made an exasperated sound. "Fine. I'll get her." Still muttering under her breath, she got up and moved out of camera range.
Peter sank back into his chair, raking a nervous hand through his hair. "Let me guess: we're hung up in the Ukraine again, right?" The silence that greeted his question answered it louder than words.
A noise on-screen drew his attention, and he watched apprehensively as two figures came into view, gasping in horror when he saw Kacie's appearance and the way Sara had to support her as she walked.
As Kacie was settled into the chair in front of the computer, she stared strangely at the camera focused on her, taking a second and a third look at it, as if trying to figure out why it was there.
"Kacie?" Peter asked tentatively, mouth suddenly dry.
She stared at him blankly. "Peter?" Her voice sounded shaky and uncertain.
"Sweetheart? What's the matter with you? Are you sick?" His overly tired eyes started to burn and his throat ached as he scrutinized the dull, hollowed eyes and pale face before him.
"Peter, I'm c-cold," she complained as her teeth chattered and she shivered. "Why is it s-so c-cold?"
"Kacie, Honey, listen to me. Are you sick?"
She looked at him, eyes glassy and uncomprehending. "I wanna come home. Why can't I come home?"
Peter choked out, "You will, Hon. So-on." His voice broke and tears gathered in his eyes.
"I d-don't like it here. I wanna come home." She started pulling at the collar of her sweatshirt. "I'm hot," she said accusingly, bright spots of red flushing her cheeks, even though her teeth were chattering. "It's hot. I don't like it here." She suddenly started to cry, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I wanna come home. Why can't I come ho-home?"
"I-I-I want you home, too, Sweetheart." Peter choked on the sobs that threatened to strangle him. "You'll-you'll be home soon, Hon. I promise. S-soon."
The camera shifted to Sara's ski mask-covered head. "Seen enough to suit you?"
"She's sick! Can't you see that?" Peter was frantic. "She needs a doctor."
"So?"
"Jesus God!" Peter exploded. "She's sick. She's pregnant! Help her!"
"Are you willing to beg?"
"Yes! I'll beg, I'll crawl. Anything you want, but please! Help her!"
"Let me see you."
"What?"
She continued in an unnaturally calm voice. "Beg. I want to see you on your knees begging. I rather like the idea of you begging me."
Peter slid out of his chair onto his knees, Kacie's sobs ringing in his ears. As he brought his hands together in supplication, his body shook in rebellion at the humbling of his pride. "All right! I-I-I'm BEGGING you! Please take my wife to a hospital. Please!"
Sara tapped a finger on her chin. "You look good on your knees. I always said I'd have you begging one day."
Peter spoke in little more than a hoarse whisper. "Please. You can see she's sick. For God's sake, help her!"
Sara sighed and shrugged. "I'll dig around and see if I can find a couple of aspirin. Don't forget our date tonight. Be there on time." Her voice became icy. "Don't mess with me, Caine. If my partner doesn't hear from me on the schedule I've set up, your wife dies. So don't get any ideas about overpowering me and forcing me to tell you where she is."
"No tricks."
"Just out of curiosity, you wouldn't happen to know how long it takes for a baby to die after the mother is dead, do you?"
"What kind of monster are you?" Peter hissed as another piece of his heart shattered. {They're going to kill her. Oh, Jesus, they're going to kill her.}
"Just see to it you're on time, and make sure you're showered and clean-shaven. I like my men to smell nice, and I especially like them to feel nice. Ciao, Peter."
The screen went blank, and Peter sank back on his heels, eyes closed and head bowed.