Anthony grabbed Christy's shoulders to steady her and thought he felt her flinch. She looked up at him and what he saw in her eyes told him he'd been right. She'd heard everything. And she was afraid of him. Almost as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, and she stepped back. Not meeting his eyes, she said, "I came looking for you." She bit her lip to try and disguise the slight tremble.

He didn't say anything.

"When I heard your voice, I figured you were on the phone and I didn't want to be rude. So, I used the bathroom to give you your privacy." She looked back up then and let him read into what she'd said. She didn't tell him she heard what he was talking about, only that she'd heard his voice. There was a difference. Wasn't there?

His black eyes gave nothing away.

"What did you want?" he asked her, his voice even and without emotion.

She told him about Van's secretary and how she wanted to call the dealership but wasn't sure if she should. She'd wanted to ask his opinion. He nodded when she was finished and said, "Yeah, you can call. If his secretary knows something and you think she'll tell you."

Christy shrugged her shoulders trying to pretend like she didn't have a care in the world. "It's worth a try, don't you think?" Her eyes narrowed then, and she tilted her head to one side. Still looking up at him she asked, "Why were you standing outside the bathroom door?"

He reached into his back pocket and placed her beeper in her hand. "I went to my office and saw that you had a page."

She looked at it squinting in concentration. "I don't recognize the number," she told Anthony, shaking her head. "Should I call it back?"

"It might be Van," he told her. "C'mon."

She followed him to the spare bedroom and watched as he sat down on the weight bench. He motioned her over, and she sat next to him. He tutored her on possible conversations and things she should and shouldn't say. He picked up the telephone that was hooked up to the untraceable phone line and dialed the number on her pager. The phone didn't have a speaker, so he held the earpiece between them.

He swallowed thickly when he caught a whiff of her. She smelled like, like...like flowers. Fresh and clean like something that floated on the air on a cool summer day.

One ring.

It intermingled with another smell. One that he couldn't place but it attacked his senses and sent a bolt of lightning to his groin.

Another ring.

He tried to remember what she smelled like when he'd carried her down the stairs at the Chapmans and when he’d held her under the water in his shower. He couldn't remember. He gulped and struggled not to adjust his jeans.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered before the third ring.

"Yes, I'm returning a page," Christy said.

Anthony felt her warm breath on his cheek.

"Christy?"

"Who's this, please?" Christy asked. The voice was familiar, but two words weren't enough for Christy to identify it.

"It's Kimberly Cochran," the woman said. "Are you okay, Christy?"

"Detective Cochran?" Christy asked, the surprise in her voice obvious. She felt Anthony stiffen at her side. A million thoughts battled their way to the surface of her brain. A million thoughts all jostling for first place, trying to fight their way to the surface and gain supremacy over her tongue. She knew instantly this was not the opening she was looking for. If she managed to tell Detective Cochran where she was and who she was with, she had no doubt that Anthony Bear could not only stop her from getting more than two words out, but he could kill her and dispose of any evidence of her existence before the first police car arrived. She would have to do the opposite. She would have to deter the woman from suspecting Anthony.

"I didn't recognize the number you called from," Christy remarked.

"I'm at a pay phone," the woman answered. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, of course I'm okay. I'm fine." She paused and pulled away from the phone to give Anthony a questioning look. Words weren't necessary. She was beginning to comprehend how the game was played and knew what she needed to say. An unspoken understanding passed between them, and Anthony nodded. "But I almost wasn't." Without giving the detective a chance to say anything, Christy quickly added, "I think Van must be in trouble, Detective. I had the strangest encounter with a big, scary looking guy named Anthony."

"Anthony Bear?" Detective Cochran asked in a worried voice.

"Um…maybe," Christy stammered. "Possibly. I don't remember if he said his last name."

"What kind of encounter?" the detective prodded.

Christy knew that one conversation with Nadine would reveal that she'd brought Anthony to Nadine's home. And if Detective Cochran decided to interview Evelyn, her landlord, she would know that Anthony was at her apartment as well. She needed to come clean up front and hope the seasoned detective bought it, and pray she didn’t say anything that would lead the police to Anthony Bear’s front door. Visions of hostage situations and a gun being held against her temple clambered into her head. Shaking her runaway thoughts off, she continued, "Just a weird one. I was snooping at Van and Vivian's, and he was working with the landscaping crew that was there servicing their house. Anyway, I was having car trouble when I went to leave, and because his company works in my brother's neighborhood, he offered me a ride over there. Nadine's grandma made us lunch and invited him to stay for something to eat. He was there when Richard pulled the stunt I called you about."

"Christy, are you with him now? Are you with Anthony right now?" Detective Cochran asked. The worry in her voice almost reached through the phone and grabbed Christy by the throat.

"No! Of course not!" she answered a little too quickly. "He looks mean and scary, but he was super nice. I mean, I think he owns the landscape company that has serviced the Chapman estate for years so I didn't have any reservations about letting him give me a ride. He was a perfect gentleman. He even had one of his guys get the loaner car running and swapped out my Rabbit."

She turned her head to look at Anthony, her eyes like saucers. He gave her an approving nod.

"Christy, listen to me. If it's the Anthony I think it is, he is not nice. And he is definitely not a gentleman. Are you home now? Did he follow you there?"

Christy took a deep breath and continued with her lie. "I'm not home, but that's where it got a little weird."

"Weird how?" the detective prodded.

"I was freaked out by what Richard had done, and I wanted to go home. Anthony offered to drive me to my apartment, and when we got there, my landlady said something about two men who'd stopped by and were looking for me. I can't explain it, Detective. I got a vibe. Like my instinct was telling me something wasn't right. I packed a suitcase and told my landlady I was taking a trip. I left with Anthony, and we met up with his friend who'd picked up my car. Anthony asked me about where I was going, and I don't know, he seemed a little too interested. He then started asking me a lot of questions about Van. It felt...it felt..." she paused trying to come up with the right word, "off."

She paused to take a breath and see if she could gauge the detective's reaction. There wasn't one so she continued.

"Long story short, after his friend showed up with my car, I asked Anthony if I could buy him dinner to thank him. I told him to pick a restaurant and I would follow him." She gulped. "I was driving behind him, and he made a right and I made a left and headed for I-75. I've been driving north for a little while. Not sure where I'm going, but something is telling me I shouldn’t go home. I only pulled over to answer this page."

She looked sideways to see if Anthony approved. She caught sight of a deep dimple. He was smiling.

"So, can you tell me what this is all about? Why do you want to know if I'm okay? Does it have something to do with Van and the two men who were at my apartment?"

She heard Detective Cochran blow out a relieved breath. "Christy, I heard from my street informant that loan sharks are looking for Van. Apparently, he's run up a serious debt with a couple of the worst ones. Anthony Bear being one of them and if the Anthony you were with is six foot six with long black hair, then you escaped serious danger."

"Then it must've been him, Detective, but he never mentioned money. He was just curious about Van and places he might like to hang out. Stuff like that."

"Do you know where Van is, Christy?" she asked, her worried tone suddenly replaced with her professional one.

"No. And I told Anthony the same thing."

"I need to get you to a safe house, Christy. If my informant is right, Van is in over his head with people that don't make deals. It would make sense that they might come after you to find out his whereabouts, but what scares me more is that they might use you or the rest of your family to get to Van. To be honest, I'm completely shocked that you were in Anthony Bear's company for a few hours and he didn't assert himself. It almost sounds like he tried to woo you and you don't know how lucky you are because that is not his style. Anthony Bear is a serious criminal, Christy. One of the worst. I'm going to place your entire family in protective custody until we get this figured out. You need to come to the station right now."

Christy could hear the unmistakable flick of a lighter as the detective lit a cigarette.

"If he's as awful as you say, Detective, why isn't he in jail? I mean..." She paused. "The guy owns a landscaping company. How bad can he be?" She wasn't trying to make small talk. She was downright curious. She felt Anthony's posture change next to her. She held her breath as she waited for the detective's answer.

"Because he's smart, and surprisingly, he's respected. He owns a lot of people. People that are afraid to cross him because they know if they do, it'll cost them their lives. And yes, he owns a landscape company, but he also owns a lot of other businesses." The detective went on to mention a chain of laundromats, car washes and drive-through ice stations that could be found all over Florida. "I'm sure he owns the cash businesses to launder money, although nobody's been able to prove it." She paused and exhaled impatiently. "But that's not what's important now."

Christy could hear her take a long pull from her cigarette.

"He's as bad if not worse than..." The last words of her sentence died off, and Christy heard her mumble under her breath, "At least that one's on the other coast." The detective regained her focus and asked, "What time can I expect you at the station?"

Christy pulled away from the phone to look at Anthony. His earlier smile was gone. His lips formed a straight thin line, and his eyes were bottomless black pits. So black, she could see her blonde hair reflected in them. She swallowed the lump in her throat and put her ear back to the receiver. He leaned in too.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but if I'm in as much danger as you think I might be, then I'm not coming back to Naples. I'm going to keep driving north. I may or may not hop a plane in Tampa or Orlando. Don't worry about me and definitely don't try to find me. Just make sure you keep my family safe. I'll wait for your page that tells me when it's okay to come home."

Without giving the woman a chance to reply, Christy disconnected the call.

She turned to look at her abductor and thought she saw something that could've been admiration in his eyes.

"You're a fast thinker and a good liar," Anthony told her.

"So are you," she answered, remembering how easily he came up with false stories to tell Richard and the travel agents she'd been calling. But her tone lacked sincerity. If anything, she sounded sad.

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't question her comment. He stood up and turned to her. She felt his eyes and couldn’t bring herself to meet them. She didn't need to ask him if what the detective said was true. She stared at the floor and prayed that her theatrical telephone performance didn’t seal her fate. If he decided to kill her, she’d just erased any doubts or suspicions that Detective Cochran might’ve had. If anything, she gave Anthony Bear an alibi in her disappearance.