Echo

piece . It must be worth a fortune.
    But his scheme needed refining if he didn’t want to get caught. Yeah, he wanted to get back to that garage, you bet your ass. He wasn’t going to let them get away with what they did to him without getting his share of the gold.
    It would be dark soon. He planned to go back for the gold as soon as he thought everyone slept soundly in their beds. If he couldn’t get in the front or back door, he planned to break in through the garage door. He relentlessly paced, thinking about his plans for that uppity bitch the next time he got her alone.

    He pulled up to the house on Lily Pond Road in the pathetic Volkswagen, rolling down the window to let in fresh air, the sound of crickets masking the cooling tick of the old vehicle. He needed the car close by so he could load the gold quickly. A beat up old truck sat innocently in the driveway, the house shrouded in dark silence. They must be asleep .
    Flexing his arms, popping his knuckles, he figured the time was perfect. Crouching and crawling to the garage door, he pulled on the lock. It moved. Curiously, it wasn’t locked. Praising his good fortune, he raised the door part way and slid under. Hardly able to contain his glee, he took a flashlight out of his pocket. Shining it upward he illuminated a very empty garage.
    “ What the fuck? ” He ran to the connecting door to the house, ripping it open. Evidence of a hasty departure lay strewn on the floors, forlorn empty boxes still awaiting their share of possessions. Running through the hollow echoing house, he confirmed that it was deserted. Damn; too late. They slipped out of his hands . Well, at least he still owned one piece. That would last him a long time. He just needed to make a new plan. This wasn’t the end of anything. And as soon as he figured it out, he might just start with that pissant gay-boy lawyer in Newtown he caught them with the other day. He got psyched just thinking about having a little sit-down with the juicy Tiffany.
    He didn’t care how long it took to track them down. That bitch and her freaky pet haven’t seen the end of him.

Chapter 16
    The dark skinned, unusually attractive man placed his foot softly on the plush apricot carpet that molded the carved mahogany stairs, stopping to admire his hand tooled Italian leather loafers. He would have to remember to pick up another pair in cordovan the next time he flew to Italy. He made a note to have his assistant call ahead to order them.
    Leaving the carpeted treads, he mounted another set of stairs, bare and unembellished, that led to the attic, tucked far away from the rest of the mansion. Standing in front of the attic door, he tried to juggle the tray in his hand while he searched for the key that would unlock the plain nondescript oak door. Locating the key in his silk lined pocket, he carefully inserted it in the keyhole. He listened for sounds, hoping she would be sleeping. It was so much more difficult when she was awake. He found her wailing tiresome.
    He adjusted the smile on his face, deepening the dimples in his seamless cheeks. Not too many people could boast a grin as famous as his. He could say anything he wanted and still be believable as long as he flashed his famous dimples. His brilliant white teeth (all caps, but worth every penny) contrasted handsomely with his dusky completion. Turning the lock, he entered the silent room.

    She rocked slowly, a handmade stuffed doll in her fragile right arm; her left arm, flaccid and unmoving, tethered to the arm of the hard wooden chair she sat in. Looking toward him, he noticed the vacant look in her damaged eyes had not improved. He set the tray down on the small oak dresser he allowed her to have ( no sense making her too comfortable ). He saw that her thick blond hair could use the service of a hair dresser. Drool pooled on her lovely chin and crusted there. It appeared as if she lost more weight. He could not have that. It would be commented on. He must have everything appear as normal as possible when she left the attic. Taking out his cell phone he pressed a button. Within a few minutes, two men entered the room. They both carried the kind of bulk that screamed , “ Don’t even think about it .” One was carrying apparatus that could only be described as a feeding tube. The screaming and begging started as soon as she recognized the tube. The men picked her up and tied her to the bed. She was trying to bite the hands that held her down, to