No Regrets

background was, but he was an “alumnus” and she wasn’t at all uneasy about letting him wait there.
    They routinely saw people from all walks of life come through Sancho Panza’s door, and the two men didn’t ring any alarm bells in their minds.
    “We were so busy that neither Shelly nor I had time to talk to them very much,” Kari recalls. “They sipped coffee and smoked out in the living room part of the house where people can wait. I remember that one of them came back once and asked if he could make more coffee. It was the one named John.”
    About four-fifteen that morning, one of the female residents of the crisis center became very agitated and threatened suicide. Kari and Shelly were used to such psychotic breaks among their residents, and Kari quickly called the Solano County Sheriff’s Office, while Shelly enlisted thetwo strangers to help her in restraining the out-of-control resident. They quickly stepped forward to help her.
    Despite their skinny bodies, John and Mike proved to be strong enough to hold on to the hysterical patient. Kari and Shelly were grateful that they were there—since they had no male employees to help them. Within a few minutes, two sheriff’s cars arrived. Solano County deputies Jim Bridewell, Paul King, and Steve Begley evaluated the situation and called an ambulance. Then they helped load the patient into the rig to be transported to Napa State Hospital.
    The excitement was over within minutes.
    “John and Mike went back to the living room and sat down again,” Kari said. “And Shelly and I got back to filling out our paperwork.”
    It was quiet for the first time that night, save for a clock ticking and the occasional wails from an ambulance or a police unit far away. Smoke rose in clouds from the living room area as the men chain-smoked. Soon it was five-thirty in the morning—not too long until daylight. The full moon would blur in the sky as the sun rose, and the long, difficult night would be over.
    Kari looked forward to going home to a hot shower and several hours of sleep. Maybe her husband, Ben, would be able to join her for breakfast. They hardly saw each other when she was working nights and he was on a day shift, working for the county. Bent over the log she was working on, Kari was only peripherally aware that one of the strangers was asking Shelly a question.
    And then something completely unexpected happened.
    As Kari concentrated on filling out the required report of the suicidal incident, she felt someone behind her. Before she could turn around, a man’s strong arm snakedaround her upper body and held her fast. She had no warning. Suddenly she was helpless, pinned to her chair from behind.
    “He was holding me tight above my chest with his left arm,” she said later. “In his right hand, he held a knife, and he was pressing it against my neck.”
    She could smell his acrid sweat and feel the tenseness in his body. Mostly, she was in shock. She hadn’t even realized the men were in the room until one of them grabbed her. The knife was cold against the skin of her neck.
    “He told me the knife was razor sharp, and then he said, ‘I will slit your throat open unless you do exactly what I say.’”
    Kari didn’t struggle; she forced herself to stay as calm as possible. She had managed to turn around just long enough to see that it was the man she knew as John—the taller one of the duo who had been waiting for sunrise.
    “We have been running drugs and we are fucked up, desperate men,” he rasped. “Just take it easy, and be careful.”
    Kari waited to see what they wanted. She couldn’t see what Shelly was doing, and didn’t dare look at her.
    Shelly stared at the smaller man. He was carrying an electric cord he’d cut from a lamp and a tieback from the drapes. “Okay,” the taller man—John—said. “This is what we’re going to do. We don’t want to hurt you. We just want to tie you up.”
    He ordered Shelly onto the floor on her stomach, and the one called Mike quickly tied her wrists together behind her back, and then looped the cords around one of her ankles, drawing her leg up so that she was hog-tied.
    “It’s too tight,” she cried, struggling to get free.
    Mike spoke for the first time.
“Don’t’,”
he said. Therewas something about his tone that was chilling, and, frightened, Shelly stopped protesting.
    “We want all your money,” John said, “and one of those cars out front. Who owns the silver