Quickly setting down the sack of groceries on the table, he strode to the bedroom and threw open the door. "Kacie?" He switched on the light, and saw the bed still neatly made. His voice rose in pitch as he headed for the bathroom. "Kacie? Sweetheart? Where are you?" He stood stock still a moment, heart thundering in his chest.
Skalany called from the living room in a strangled voice, "Peter, don't touch anything. You'd better get in here and see this."
He emerged from the bedroom, wild-eyed as he fought a rising sense of panic. "What is it, Skalany? What did you…?" His voice trailed off and his face lost all color as he stared at his living room wall. Every picture in which Kacie appeared had been systematically destroyed, the glass shattered and her image ripped from the frame.
The phone rang, the sound harsh in the frozen silence of the room. Peter made no move to answer it, unable to tear his horrified gaze from the desecrated portraits on the wall.
Skalany watched him with worried eyes as she answered the phone, careful to wrap her handkerchief around the receiver before she picked it up. "Caines'."
A garbled voice spoke into her ear, and she recognized the sound of a scrambler as it distorted the speech. "Let me talk to Peter Caine."
"He can't come to the phone right now."
A maniacal chuckle grated on her ears. "I take it he's found the message I left him."
"Who are you? What do you want?" Skalany demanded.
"What I want is to talk to Peter Caine! Pick him up off the floor and put him on the phone!"
Skalany held out the phone in Peter's direction, her hand shaking slightly. "Peter." Her voice gave out, and she cleared her throat before repeating herself. "Peter, you better talk to whoever this is." Clamping her hand over the mouthpiece, she added, "I'll use my cell phone and get someone from the precinct over here right away."
Peter took the receiver from Skalany and spoke in a flat voice, "Caine."
"I have something of yours. How badly do you want it back?"
Peter's mouth went dry, and he swallowed twice before he could coax a sound from his throat. "So help me God, if you've done anything to hurt her…"
"You're not exactly in any position to make idle threats here, Detective! Don't make me angry. I do rash, impulsive things when I get angry."
Rage and helplessness swelled in Peter's chest, an iron band around his heart and lungs making it difficult to breathe. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you, Detective. Plain and simple. And I'll have you, too. When the time is right. You think about that tonight."
"Let me talk to her," Peter snarled. "I want to know she's all right!"
The voice sighed heavily. "There you go, making demands again. I think I'm beginning to get irritated here." The distorted sounds went on, "When I get irritated, I just naturally take it out on the first human being I see, you know?" There came the unmistakable noise of skin contacting skin and something falling, closely followed by a pain-filled moan.
"Don't!" Peter shouted into the phone, then struggled to calm himself. "Please," he begged. "Don't hurt her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sometimes I shoot my mouth off without thinking."
"That's better. You play nice with me, and I won't do anything…rash." There was a brief pause. "Hmm. I see that I have two for the price of one here. I'll just bet you were looking forward to being a father, weren't you?"
Peter's legs threatened to give way, and as his knees buckled, his father caught him and supported him. "Oh, Jesus, what do you want? I don't have any real money; my friends aren't rich, but I'll…"
"I don't want your money. I told you already. I want you, and I have your pregnant little wife here to make sure you play the game."
"What-what-what game?"
"I've heard of what a hotshot cop you're supposed to be, and how the 101st is such a crack unit. You're all so good, you find me. Find who I am and where I am, and you can have her back. I'll let you know more rules to the game in the morning."
"In the morning? NO!" Peter shook uncontrollably, and Caine wrapped his arms more firmly around his son.
The voice took on an irritated tone once again. "You're making me mad again. My game, my rules. Live with it."
"All right. All right. I'm sorry. Don't get mad. Could I please talk to Kacie? Please?"
"Hmm…She appears to be a little tied up right now. Maybe in the morning. Find a way to hook up a video conference with me on your computer at the precinct, and maybe I'll even let you see her."
"But, I don't have that kind of…" Peter started to argue and literally bit his tongue to stop the torrent of words.
"Find a way," the voice snapped. "Be at your computer at 9 sharp tomorrow morning. I'll fill you in on the rules of the game then." There came a sharp click as the connection was severed, and along with it, Peter felt a part of his soul shrivel and die.