Honeymoon for Three

didn’t want him to get his hopes up too high. Why not? Why should she care what he felt?
    If he accepted her terms, she could watch for an opportunity to escape. Escape back to Gary’s arms.
    Alfred stopped working on her head and showed her the handkerchief. It had the yellow and black stains of clotted blood on it. He washed it with water from the faucet. She sat and looked at the trees while several minutes went by. When he didn’t speak, she tried again.
    “We might go by the coast.”
    The coast road, Route 1, was the long way, farther and slower than heading straight down 101. They would have more time together. Prolonging the trip could work to her advantage.
    It would give Gary and the police more of a chance to find her, on the relatively unpopulated coast, rather than in Los Angeles where, in spite of any promises Alfred might make, he could easily decide not to release her. People could get lost in the wilds of L.A. Gary might never find her there.
    Penny went to the front seat and looked at the California map. She knew approximately where they were.
    “Route One cuts off at Leggett. We can follow Route One to just north of San Francisco. After we cross the Golden Gate Bridge, we can follow Route One again to San Luis Obispo. This is such a beautiful part of the country; we should take our time going through it.”
    Baiting the hook, dangling the lure. Would he bite?
    Alfred sat in the driver’s seat and followed her finger on the map. He looked into her eyes—a look that showed he wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that she cared a little. She gazed back at him with as much sincerity as she could muster. She might be able to escape at a campground. Or at a gas station. If not, she would face the problem of what Alfred wanted to do with her at night. She would worry about that later. One problem at a time.
    “I have food, but I need to get gas.”
    “I’ll be your navigator.”
    Alfred looked almost apologetic. “I can’t take that chance. Please get back on the bed.”
    “Are you going to tape me again?”
    He nodded, looking miserable.
    “Okay, but tape my hands in front. My shoulders are killing me.”
    There was no use trying to fight him. He was bigger, stronger. She had to pick her opportunity. She lay on the bed. First he taped her legs. Any hope she might have had of him taking it easy on her evaporated when he made her place her arms behind her back. He taped her wrists together. Then he bent her legs behind her and pulled them up toward her hands.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Taping your hands and feet together.”
    “No, absolutely not. I’ll…get cramps in my legs.” She was flexible from her days as a cheerleader, but this was probably a true statement.
    Nevertheless, Alfred insisted on doing it. He had seen her turn over when she was taped before. She would barely be able to move with her arms and legs taped together. He obviously didn’t want her to attract any attention when he got gas. When he had finished, he taped her mouth, in spite of her protests, and placed a blanket completely over her. She felt even more helpless than she had before. Would she ever see Gary again?
     
    CHAPTER 27
    The sheriff’s deputy, Officer Radziwill, didn’t seem to believe Gary’s story at first, and Gary couldn’t blame him. It sounded like something out of the Brothers Grimm. A phantom spiriting his wife away. The officer thought that perhaps Penny had wandered off somewhere. She might be lost in the woods. Gary persisted. He didn’t want a search effort to be misdirected. He asked the deputy to call Detective Landon in Montana to confirm that Alfred had pictures of Penny and was probably a killer.
    After the call, the officer treated Gary with more respect. In fact, because Alfred was undoubtedly on the move, he called in the California Highway Patrol, which had an office a short distance away, and they sent an officer over. The representatives of these two agencies didn’t think it was a case for the F.B.I. yet. They wanted proof that a kidnapping had actually occurred and that it might cross state borders.
    Unfortunately, Gary couldn’t tell them what kind of vehicle Alfred might be driving. They agreed to check for stolen cars. One thing that Detective Landon had done was to coordinate with the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department and ask them to keep an eye on Alfred’s apartment in Lomita. They had alerted his landlord, who would call them in case he returned