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I held the gun by my face, pressed my back up against the wall, and listened. The front door opened and slammed shut. High heels clicked against the floor, and I heard her drop her briefcase. I could tell that she walked through the living room, and I prayed she'd go down the hallway, but instead she stepped into the kitchen. My chest raced furiously up and down.

The answering machine came on, and as the messages played, she opened the fridge. Her back is turned, I thought. Go now. I didn't move. The refrigerator door shut, and she walked to the kitchen sink. She turned on the water, and I thought again, her back is turned. Go.

I stepped out of the dining room into the threshold and pointed the gun at her back. She was bent over the sink trying to scrub something off her hands.

"Don't move!" I shouted. She gasped. Slowly, she craned her neck, trying to see me.

"Turn back around!" I said. "You wanna die?"

"Oh God!" she cried. "Please, no."

"Shut up!" I screamed as she hunched over into the sink. "Turn off the water," I said.

She cut it off, and aside from her quiet sobbing, the house was silent again. My voice lowered, I said, "If you look at me, I'll kill you. You got towels in the kitchen?"

"Yes."

"Blindfold yourself."

She opened a cabinet beneath the sink and pulled out a large, white dishcloth. She opened it, rolled it up, and then tied it around the back of her head.

"Back slowly towards me," I said. When she was several feet away, I said, "Stop." I made sure the cloth covered her eyes and cinched the blindfold tighter.

"You can have whatever you want…"

"Walk to the study. I'll guide you."

She stumbled through the living room, and I pushed her through the narrow doorway. When we were inside, I shut the door and knocked her to the floor, at the foot of a tall bookshelf.

"On your stomach," I said.

Immediately she obeyed, remarkably calm, as if she'd done this before.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Mary Parker."

"Do you work at the university?"

"No, just my husband. I'm a lawyer."

"You're married to David Parker?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Why?"

I leaned down and put the gun to her temple.

"Six years," she said.

"That's impossible."

"I swear."

"When does he get home? I'll know if you lie to me, Mary."

"After seven. He has a meeting tonight."

"You expecting company?"

"No."

"Why's the fucking table set?"

"It always is. I swear."

"I'll kill anyone who shows up besides your husband."

"No one else is coming," she said, her voice begging me to believe her. "I promise."

"You have children?" I asked.

"No."

"Does your husband expect you to be home?"

"Yes." I sat down on the floor, breathing easily again, resisting the exhilaration.

"What do you want?" Mary asked, her voice so calm it unnerved me.

I took the radio from my fanny pack and spoke into the receiver. "Fred Flintstone," I said. "Complications. Safe now. Bring it home."

"Roger that, Wilma," the radio squeaked.

"How well do you know your husband?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You've heard of the Heart Surgeon?"

"You're not…"

"No. David Parker is."

"There's no way," she said. "Are you FBI?"

"I know a hell of a lot more than the FBI. You know the name Orson Thomas?" I asked, but she didn't answer. "Have you heard the name?" I asked again.

"Yes." She trembled. Her back heaved heavily up and down against the floor as she panted like a dog, nearly out of breath.

"How do you know him?" I asked.

"He taught at the university, but he left, he disappeared. I don't know where."

Rising to my feet, I walked towards her. "You're protecting your husband."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whined.

"Quit fucking with me!" I shouted. I knelt down on the floor, grabbed her throat, and held the gun to her head. "You think this is a joke? You know I'll kill you if you lie to me, so why protect him? You know what your husband does to people? He takes them to a cabin. He tortures them. He cuts their fucking hearts out, you stupid bitch, and you want me to believe you don't know this? That you don't have a part in it?"

"I don't know