Next snippet, Murder on the North Shore

Karonen dragged Cassie to his truck. 

I shouldn’t have hit her so hard! Dead or relaxed weight was heavy. He knew that from experience. Lucky for him, she had made it to the road. Carefully letting Cassie down after dragging her for twenty yards, he jogged back to the truck and drove it to her. With difficulty, he hoisted her partially onto the bed of the truck, and, holding her upper body in place, he hefted the rest of her in. After shutting the liftgate, he closed the tonneau cover, quickly returned to the drivers seat and drove back to his home.

Safely back in her quarters, he waited for her to wake. An hour and a half later, she still had not awakened.

He tried shaking her, yelling her name; nothing worked. Karonen paced inside her cell. This would not do. It had been stupid of him to let her escape in the first place. Now, what do I have to work with?

It was an experiment gone bad. He had only wanted to study her reactions, her emotions, and then glean information from her after recapture.

Cassie stirred, then moaned.

Karonen’s hopes jumped. She’s going to make it! A joyous smile appeared on his desperate looking face. He went to her, feverishly arranging her on the bed as she continued to moan. She’ll be okay, she’ll be okay. He didn’t need another companion gone bad. 

The fisherman had been an error. He faulted his judgement for taking him in the first place.

Six months prior to chancing upon Miss Bandleson on the Superior Hiking Trail, he had made the mistake of taking Tom Hecimovich, a younger man than he who was strong and determined. Eventually, Mr. Hecimovich needed to be dealt with in a most severe manner. His body would never be found; Karonen was sure of that.

The palpable relief he now felt released all emotion from him. He sat on the folding chair he kept in Bandleson’s room, and breathed deeply and buried his face in his hands. Five minutes later, after resolving to trap another male, he walked over to Bandleson. 

She opened her eyes and stared at him.

“Welcome back, Cassie,” he said warmly.

She closed her eyes again and turned her face away. He patted her arm and then left.

Pausing at the gate to her chamber, he glanced back, as if he wasn’t quite sure she was all right. Karonen was satisfied when he observed her move to her side; he latched the gate.

“Good night, Cassie,” he said.

Ten hours later, Cassie opened her eyes again. She moved from her side to her back. The bed she lay in was comfortable, to the point of annoyance. She didn’t want to be comfortable in her prison. Anger and despair filled her head as she ruminated about her lost opportunity for escape.

Thinking of escape again, she took stock of her functioning body parts; she moved her arms, legs, fingers, and toes. Everything worked, although her ankle and head still hurt. Cassie also noted she was not chained in any way. She was surprised, but happy for that circumstance.

Her “room” was a rock and timber chamber with a bed, a small bookcase filled with classic literature, a round, wooden table, a mirror, a thick area rug covering half the floor, a chandelier hanging from a massive timber in the center, a portable toilet, and a wash basin. A bucket of fresh water was always provided. At least it always seemed fresh. If she thought of the “room” as a bedroom, it was much larger than anything she had ever possessed. It was probably thirty feet by fifteen with a ceiling height of ten. She could put a children’s basketball court in here, or a wine rack near the folding chair, or flowers on the shelf above the bed. 

She was disgusted with herself. Don’t start thinking of this place as a home. It’s a prison!

While staring at the walls, Cassie stood, walked to the nearest one, and ran a hand along it until she had circled the room. Why isn’t it damp? It should be wet, at least a little. She pondered the question, but didn’t resolve it. During her stay of nine days or so, she couldn’t be sure, the question had never occurred to her before. It doesn’t matter. What difference would it make? 

She sat on the bed and sighed deeply, holding her face in her hands.

I can’t believe I ran right into him! Idiot.  Next time I won’t make the same mistake.

She heard the familiar sound of footsteps and readied herself for the appearance of Mr. Karonen.

“Good, you’re awake. You had a rough night so I brought you croissants, cheese, and meats. The cheese is a nice Blue Castello. It has a soft, buttery and tangy taste. I’m sure you’ll love it,” Karonen said. “And the meats are fresh from the tourist trap right down the highway. The water is from my tap, good Lake Superior water.” He smiled, and placed the tray he had meticulously arranged on the table near her bed. 

The tourist trap down the road? She filed another note in her head. Cassie said nothing, but stared at Karonen, who looked like a jovial grandfather.  She thought, What was wrong with this man?

Karonen seemed to wait for her to speak, so finally, she said it without emotion. “What is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?”

He flinched a little before he said, “The croissant is warm and you will want to spread the cheese on it before it gets cold. Please enjoy your meal and we’ll talk later.”

“Mr. Karonen, we need to talk now.” Again, she said it evenly, which seemed to take him off guard.

It was his turn to stare. She stared back…waiting for him to speak.

“I collected you.”

“You collected me.”

He looked away, as if he was searching for something on the wall to her left. She turned to where he stared. On the wall was the photo she had noticed before, but never given much thought. It was a young woman, not pretty, but pleasant looking.

He continued to stare at the photo as if he were immersing himself in every fine detail and extracting every scintilla of emotion he could from it.

“Who is she?” She finally asked.

“Methodist was her name,” he said.

She noted the word ‘was’.

“Do I remind you of her?” She asked.

He smiled wryly. “No,” he said, and then shook his head. The action seemed to relieve him of his absorption with the photo. “No, you are nothing like Methodist.” He paused slightly before he backed from the cell and latched the gate. “I’ll come back for your plate later.”

Cassie looked down and plucked a croissant from the tray. She spread a thick mass of the Blue Castello cheese on it, and then took a large bite of heaven.