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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was not migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf. This story segment first appeared on BigCloset Classic on Sunday, January 04, 2004 - 03:26 AM. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 44
 
 
Agent Goddard turned to me in the semi-darkness and said, "Are you sure…"

He never got to finish his question. His body stiffened and then there was a deafening crack that could only have been a gunshot. He crumpled to the floor and I screamed hysterically. A hand grabbed me from behind and another clamped over my mouth. I tried to bite it, but it was heavily gloved. I tried to kick and struggle, but my captor held me tightly.

"Stop fighting, you dumb bitch!" Simon's voice whispered harshly in my ear.

I felt like throwing up or fainting — perhaps both. I looked down at the agent's body on the ground. It appeared lifeless, unmoving. There was a crackle from the agent's radio. Simon pulled me roughly to my knees so he could grab the radio. He put the earpiece into his own ear and held the microphone to his lips.

"Listen up you shitheads! Anyone comes down those stairs and the bitch dies. If I so much as hear a fart up there, I'm going to waste her without a second thought. Understand?"

I couldn't hear the reply, but whatever was said irritated Simon. "Don't talk to me, just listen!" he shouted. He paused and then continued in a more even tone, "I'll get back to you when I've decided how we're going to play this. Any of your fancy flash bangs or any canisters rolling down those stairs and you'll have a dead slut to clear up down here."

I was breathing hard and fast as I tried to suck enough air in through my nose to keep myself conscious. Simon still covered my mouth and with his other hand, he jabbed his gun hard against my neck. He whispered harshly, "Any funny business from you and I'll just blow your head off right here, right now. Understand?"

I was too scared to reply but he forced the gun harder against my neck and snarled, "I said, do you understand?"

I nodded and tried to choke back the rising bile in my throat. He forced me to move further back into the basement. I could barely see where I was going and nearly tripped on a few occasions. "Stay on your feet, you stupid bitch," he growled.

When we reached the far wall, Simon dragged me with him as he felt his way along it. He sighed with what sounded like satisfaction and turned a handle. I felt a draught and realised that he must have opened a door. He roughly urged me forwards. I couldn't see where I was going and banged my head on something. I winced and tried to groan. He pushed my head down and moved me forwards. It was a tunnel of some sort and I began to feel a real sense of dread at what lay ahead.

We walked for about five minutes. It was interspersed with Simon cursing into the radio telling them that he was trying to think and would talk to them when he had decided what he wanted. I felt a sinking feeling within me. The FBI agents would be waiting in the cabin thinking that Simon and I were in the basement when, in reality, he was leading me away from them. I presumed that there had to be some sort of back entrance to this tunnel. Simon seemed to know where he was going. He had taken his hand from over my mouth.

He was regaining his confidence. "Wasn't it kind of the survivalists who built this cabin to give free reign to their paranoia? Their paranoia in building this little escape route is going to save us. Well, actually I mean it's going to save me."

"Simon, give it up, why don't you just stop this. It's over."

He laughed harshly. "Oh it's far from over. Even if I don't make it and you somehow survive, it's not over then."

I didn't want to ask, but his words needled me. "What do you mean?"

He chuckled to himself. "There are certain sealed papers with a solicitor back home, who shall of course remain nameless. He has been instructed that if he never hears from me again, then he is to send said papers to a certain tabloid journalist in nine months' time. So what if the story those papers tell is not true. You'll be ruined irrespective of the truth of the matter."

I shivered and it wasn't just due to the chill of the dank air in the tunnel. "Why nine months?"

He sniggered. "Because if I don't make it through this, I want you to go through hell for your last few months of precious fame before the shit hits the fan."

Before we had gone too much further, I began to feel colder and the wind in the tunnel felt stronger. We emerged into what seemed to be some sort of open-sided shack. There was a pickup truck partially covered by a tarpaulin. It was pitch dark outside now and was snowing heavily. The snow was drifting into the shack. I shivered from the cold as I was only wearing only a light sweatshirt and jeans.

"Why, Simon? Why do this to me? Why do you hate me so?" I implored.

He didn't answer for a moment and I persisted. "Why do you want to kill me? Why do you want to make my life hell even if I do survive? I want to understand. I have the right to know."

He suddenly hit me across the face with the butt of the gun. I fell to the ground with a cry and tasted blood in my mouth. I looked up at him in the gloom and saw him standing over me, the gun pointed directly at me.

He spoke harshly, "You want to know? Fine. I want to make your life end — or make it so hellish that you'll wish it was over — because of what you've put me through this last year."

"What are you talking about?" I cried.

He spoke in a quieter yet more uneven voice, "Because I wanted you. Yes, I wanted you so bad like you have no idea."

I swallowed hard and was stunned by his words.

He laughed. "Surprised? I bet you are. Flattered? Perhaps not. You see that alone was bearable, but when I began to follow my suspicions and thought that you used to be a man — do you know what troubled me more?"

I couldn't find any words and just shook my head fearfully.

He leaned down over me and in a ragged whisper said, "Because I still wanted you! God, how I longed to have you and it made me sick."

He stood back up and shook his head. "That's why it has to end. I'm sorry."

He spread his feet apart and pointed the gun at my head.

"Simon, wait!" I cried out in fear.

"What is it now?" he asked exasperatedly.

"I lied to you before." I tried to pique his interest. Anything to stop him shooting me.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were right."

"About what?"

I sighed. "You were right about everything. All that you suspected and found out was true."

He cursed under his breath. "I knew it. I knew it — you lying bitch! What about that pregnancy test?"

I cowered below him. "It… it was just a ruse to distract you. I have some hormonal imbalance that caused the test to be falsely positive."

The words that he called me were coarse and filthy. He spat a tirade of hate at me. "You think you're so clever? You think you're so smart because you tricked me twice? We'll see who's smart now."

In a rage, he pulled his foot back and kicked me viciously in the stomach. I felt the breath being squeezed out of me by the agonising pain in my abdomen. I tried to breathe in again, but couldn't seem to find any air. I retched and clutched my midriff as I lay on the ground. My vision was starry and I thought that I was going to pass out.

"That's it," he said with grim determination. "Enough. It's time to end this." He again stood over me and aimed the gun at my head. I wanted to close my eyes, but I forced myself to meet his cruel gaze.

Though I was prepared for it, the gunshot still shocked me when it came.

Simon's head seemed to explode and I was showered with blood and other things that I didn't want to think about. For a split second my mind froze and then I just started to scream uncontrollably. I was still lying on the ground in the foetal position. I was aware of shadowy figures with guns rushing into the shack and checking all around it. One man bent down beside me and was speaking to me, but I couldn't focus on what he was saying. He gently lifted me to a seated position and put an arm round me. Eventually I stopped screaming and just sobbed freely.

"Shush, it's OK. It's over now," the man kept saying repeatedly.

I managed to regain some control over myself and stared at him blankly.

"Miss Malone?" he asked.

I nodded slowly.

"I'm Special Agent Mackey. You're safe now. I'm sorry we took so long to get to you, but it's all over. Can you understand me?"

I nodded again.

I saw the flash of teeth in the semi-darkness as he smiled. "Good. Now we're going to get you out of here and back to comfort and warmth." I suddenly realised just how cold I was. He noticed and said something to one of the other men nearby. Agent Mackey was handed a coat and he gently helped me to slip it on. A hat and gloves followed. I was still shivering and I thought I'd never feel warm again.

"Can you stand?" he asked softly.

I shrugged. "I don't know," I said weakly.

He helped me to my feet and held me tightly. I turned to look down at Simon's body on the ground; however, Agent Mackey gently but firmly led me away from it.

"There's a helicopter above us that will try to descend to hover just overhead if there is a break in the weather. It's going to drop down a harness and will lift both you and me up into it. Then we're going straight back to Seattle. Do you understand?"

I nodded. I was given a cup of something to drink. It was steaming hot chocolate. Initially my stomach recoiled, but I took small sips and could feel the warm liquid within me as I drank it. After about ten minutes, I heard the sound of rotors beating overhead and I was led outside. The snow had eased off and the helicopter was visible above us. Agent Mackey helped me over to where a harness had been dropped. He strapped me into it and then did the same for himself. After checking that we were secure, he put his arms around me and then said something into his mouthpiece. We began to ascend and I felt the wind whipping against my face. We were pulled into the helicopter by strong arms and I was placed in a seat and strapped in. The door closed and the helicopter began to move up and away.

I sat there feeling strangely numb as I vacantly stared out of the window. I made no effort to talk and no one said anything to me except for occasionally asking if I was alright. I just nodded in response.
 

*          *          *
 
The helicopter took us back to Seattle and landed on top of a hospital. I was taken down to the emergency room and examined by a doctor. It felt like a dream, as if I weren't really there. X-rays were taken of my face and were pronounced normal. I was apparently given the all clear as the agents led me from the building to where a car was waiting.

We were driven to police headquarters and I was taken to an upper floor in an elevator. When I stepped out of the elevator, I was led down a corridor and into a waiting room.

As soon as I entered, several people jumped to their feet. Two women rushed towards me and wrapped their arms around me. It was Claire and Jools.

"Oh my God, oh my God," Claire cried, "Are you alright? Oh God."

Jools didn't say anything. There were tears streaming down her face. For the first time since the encounter on the mountainside, I actually felt in control of my body.

"I'm OK," I murmured. "I'm alright."

Claire broke the hug and looked at me. "Your face? You've been hit — are you hurt?"

I shrugged. When I thought about it, it did hurt, but it didn't seem to be that relevant. I sensed another person standing nearby and turned.

"Hey you," Jon said softly. He gave a half-smile and moved in to embrace me.

I hugged him tight and didn't say anything. He held me for at least a minute before letting go of me.

Claire took my hand. "Nicola, there's someone else here who wants to see you."

"Who?" I asked.

She pointed me towards the far end of the waiting room. I saw a grey-haired man, looking somewhat haggard, standing there. I took a step forward and stopped. I looked at him. "Dad?"

He smiled a sad smile and took a step forward. He held out his arms and, after a moment's hesitation, I broke free from the others and ran towards him. I buried my face in his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around me. I felt something give within me and I began to sob. I'm sure my tears must have drenched his shirt, but he didn't release his hold on me. I became aware that he was speaking softly.

"Nicola, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

I looked up at him and he kissed my forehead. "I'm so sorry," he repeated. "I've been a silly old man. Are you sure you're alright?"

I lowered my head and turning my face sideways, leant in close against his chest again and murmured. "Yes, now I'm sure."

I'm not sure how long we held each other. Neither of us spoke further. We were interrupted by a discreet cough behind us.

We turned and saw a man in a black jumpsuit standing there. There were two men standing in the doorway behind him: one dressed in a black suit and the other in a police uniform.

"I'm sorry," said the man in the jumpsuit. I recognised his voice. It was Agent Mackey. "We really need to ask her a few questions."

"Can't it wait?" my father said with some irritation.

Agent Mackey smiled apologetically. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can all leave."

Jools interposed herself between Agent Mackey and me. "She needs a shower and clean clothes first." Her tone left Agent Mackey in no doubt that she was not in the mood for a discussion.

He seemed a little taken aback. "Err… there is a bathroom and shower down the corridor, but I don't think we have any clothes that would…"

He stopped as Jools held up a bag that she was carrying. "I've got everything she needs."

"In that case…"

She interrupted, "…all you need to do is show us to the bathroom."

He grinned with resignation. "Yes ma'am."

Claire and Jools came over to me. "Come on Nicola," Claire urged. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

I reluctantly let go of my father and looked up at him with concern.

He smiled and squeezed my shoulder. "Don't worry; I'll be here when you get back. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

I let Jools and Claire lead me to the bathroom. Once inside, they closed the door behind us. I looked in the mirror and winced. I looked as if I had been through a war. In a way, I suppose I had. My face was caked with dirt, tearstains and blood. My hair was ragged and wild looking. When I took my clothes off, I realised that I was sticky and filthy all over. I hadn't washed for…

"What day is it?" I asked.

They both looked at me with concern, but Jools found her voice first. "It's Wednesday," she replied softly. I nodded. I hadn't washed for over three days.

They helped me into the shower and I stood under the warm jets of water for what felt like years. I managed to clean myself up and wash my hair. Jools and Claire helped me to dry myself off. I dressed in the fresh top and jeans that Jools had brought for me. I sat down and Claire brushed my hair out. We had no hairdryer so we left it wet. Jools held up some cosmetics, but I shook my head. I looked in the mirror. I was clean, but looked pale. My eyes looked… haunted? I shook my head and prepared myself for what was to come.
 

*          *          *
 
"Why did he do all this? What was his motivation?" The man in the black suit, Agent something-or-other, asked.

I had told them about how I had been kidnapped and how then I had realised that Simon was behind it all. We were in an interview room. It was probably supposed to appear informal as we were sitting in easy chairs. My father sat beside me holding my hand. The agents had wanted to talk to me alone, but he had been adamant that he was not leaving my side.

"He… it was a mixture of things." I didn't tell them anything about how Simon had found out about my past. I had already decided that that information being withheld was not going to affect what the authorities needed to find out. "He was paranoid about my career not continuing to be successful… and he had… certain feelings for me."

They nodded to themselves as if this was what they had expected.

"I understand the ransom demand was a diversion and that he had no intention of trying to collect it?"

I nodded.

The agent frowned. "I hate to ask this: you were kept for three days. During this time did he or anyone else… do anything to you."

I knew what they meant. I closed my eyes and shuddered. "I was… touched." I pointed to my breasts and grimaced. I shook my head. "Nothing else though."

"Did they threaten anything else?"

I swallowed hard and tried to compose myself.

My father bristled. "Do you have to ask her this? She's been through enough already."

I put a hand on his arm. "It's OK, Dad." I turned my attention back to the agent. "They did threaten that they were going to… do other things to me before Simon was going to kill me."

He raised an eyebrow. "He told you he was planning to kill you?"

I nodded. "Pretty much."

I saw him take a deep breath. "Why didn't they do anything to you?"

I thought for a moment. "I told them I was pregnant. Simon went to get a pregnancy test kit. It took him some time."

Apparently I had been kept captive in a cabin in the foothills of the Cascades. The nearest village was Amok, which was several miles away down a treacherous mountain road. The conditions would have made driving extremely difficult.

"Are you pregnant?" the agent asked hesitantly.

I looked at him coolly. "I'm afraid that's my own business and not relevant to your investigation."

He looked away for a moment. "Ah yes, I'm sorry. You're quite right. That certainly explains what delayed their plans for some of the time. However, you still weren't… assaulted?"

I shook my head. I knew I had to tell them this next part. Having my father beside me made it even more difficult. I turned to my father and smiled weakly. He smiled back at me and put his arm around me. He spoke softly, "Just say what you have to say. Don't worry about me."

I nodded and turned back to the agent. "I was… nearly raped back in July in the U.K. Since then, I've worn a locked belt… down below… for protection."

He looked shocked for a moment and then reasserted his professionalism. "Ah… I see. So this prevented them."

I nodded. "Simon and some of the others went back to the village to get something to cut it off with." I shuddered again.

After a moment he asked, "How did you get to the basement?"

I told them about my ruse with Wayne. I was somewhat ashamed when I told them how I pretended to seduce him and looked guiltily at my father. To his credit, he just squeezed my shoulder and smiled encouragingly. I filled them in on the rest of the details.

When I had finished, the agent put down his pen. "Miss Malone, I have to say that you were incredibly brave and you're a very clever lady. Your actions undoubtedly saved you."

I smiled. "I don't feel very brave."

"One thing I haven't been able to work out though," he continued, "How does Aaron Kramer fit into all this?"

"Dear Lord!" I exclaimed as I raised my hand to my mouth. "I forgot about Aaron…"

I told them about the set up and how Simon had engineered it all. Apparently Aaron was still being held in police custody.

The agent turned to the police officer and raised an eyebrow. The officer murmured, "Shit, there's gonna be hell to pay for this one."

"We'll have Mr. Kramer released immediately," the agent assured me.

I would later manage to talk to Aaron on the telephone and apologise for thinking that he had been involved. He said that he understood but seemed a little distant. I doubted that he would want much more to do with me.

After some more questions, the agent-in-charge concluded the interview. As we stood and shook hands, he said to my father, "You have a remarkable daughter, Mr. Evans."

I looked up to see how my father would react. He smiled. "I know."

He put his arm around me and we walked back to the waiting room. As I entered, I froze and felt as if I had seen a ghost. This 'ghost' stood up and said, "Hi Cara."

"Gareth?" I exclaimed.

He grinned ruefully. "In the flesh."

"Dear God, I thought you were dead!" I said with anguish. The anguish was augmented by the fact that until that moment, I had forgotten about him again.

I ran to him and hugged him hard. He winced, "Ouch."

I released him. "What's wrong? How did you…? I thought you…"

He smiled. "I've got a fractured rib and quite severe bruising. To answer what I presume you're trying to ask, I was wearing a bullet-proof jacket."

"Thank God," I said. "I thought you were…" I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"I'm not," he said gently.

"Why were you wearing a bullet-proof jacket?"

He shrugged and grinned awkwardly. "I just had a bad feeling that night." He paused. "I'm so sorry. I should never have let you be taken. I let you down."

"No!" I said firmly. "You could have died trying to help me. I'm just glad you're OK."

I hugged him again, this time more gently.
 

*          *          *
 
The police had taken us back to a downtown hotel. Claire and Jools took me to a two-bedroom suite that I was to share with them. My father came into the suite with us and then the two girls tactfully left us alone. I sat on a comfy chair opposite my father. I hardly knew what to say.

"I'm glad you're here, Dad," I finally managed.

His face crinkled. "Nicola, I'm sorry. I've been a fool. When I thought that I was going to lose you…" He swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes.

I slowly got up and sat beside him on the sofa. He put an arm around me and pulled me close to him. "I've missed you," I said softly.

"I've missed you so much too," he admitted. "I know that I've been pigheaded and stubborn. I just wished that I could put my principles away and make up with you, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. At Christmas, I really wanted to talk to you, hug you and see how you were… but I was so miffed at having the wool pulled over my eyes that I cut off my nose to spite my face. I’m not saying that I’ve thrown out my standards or that my beliefs are different… but those same principles will not allow me to shun my child."

"It's OK," I said.

"It's not OK," he countered. "I've been wrong, but it's just been very hard."

I smiled at him. “Dad, I’ve been wrong too. I’ve been so selfish that I barely took time to think about how you felt. I just carried on regardless and hardly even listened to what you had to say to me. I realise now that I need to have you in my life — I’m not sure if a life without you is worth that much otherwise. If it means that you want me to…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence and I wasn’t even sure if I could be true to what I was trying to say.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments. He looked at me and brushed some hair back from my face. "You remind me so much…" he mused wistfully.

I smiled hesitantly. "Do I look that much like her?"

His face broke into a grin. "Incredibly so. When I look at you, I feel as if I've been transported back in time. You've got her eyes, her face, her hair."

"Is that what made it so difficult?"

He nodded. "I was hurting so much that any reminder of your mother was almost unbearable for me. There you were: a near-perfect embodiment of her and I couldn't deal with it. Each time I'd see you on TV or in the magazines, I'd be reminded of Esther."

"You watched me on TV?" I said with curiosity.

He chuckled. "Yes. I was even at St. David's Hall in Cardiff back in December, but no one ever knew about that. I arrived late and left early. You were magnificent."

"I had no idea…" I said with amazement.

He shrugged. "I just couldn't get over my own stupid pride. That song you sang for your mother, the things you said…" His voice trailed off and he swallowed. He found his voice and continued, "I cried. The talent you showed and the way your music reaches people… you made me feel so proud of you. I wanted to stand up and shout that I was your father and that you were… my daughter."

That did it for me and the tears started to roll out of my eyes. "Dad, I love you so much."

"I love you too, dear. I promise I'll always love you and never ever shut you out again." He was on the verge of tears, but managed to keep talking. "I realised that your mother lives on in you. As much as I might find it hard to understand what you've done, I knew that I had to stop running from my memories, and running from you. You are the closest thing to her that I have left."

Through my tears I said, "You've got Claire."

He grinned. "I do, but as we all know, she's got more of me in her. She's strong, determined, and I know you are too, but she's got my stubbornness." He paused. "Whereas you have the sensitivity and gentleness of your mother. When Claire got the phone call from Julie, and when she called me… I knew that I couldn't lose you… I just couldn't…" His voice cracked and as his eyes filled up, we held each other tightly and cried together.

"I love you, Nicola," he said rubbing his eyes, "and I guess I've woken up to the fact that I'm a very lucky man to have two such beautiful daughters."

"Thanks, Dad," I said in a hoarse whisper.

He smiled awkwardly and dabbed his eyes with a tissue. "Now, I think I'd better head on to my own room. Those girls will want to get in here. We all could do with some sleep."
 

*          *          *
 
Jools and Claire did want to get back in, but none of us felt ready for sleep immediately. I knew that I should have, given how exhausted I was by the ordeal I had been through. I wanted to talk though. They wanted to listen, as they hadn't heard the full story yet.

I talked them through it from start to finish, this time leaving nothing out. They could hardly believe it as I told them about Simon and the things he said and did. Actually I did leave one thing out: I didn't tell them about Simon's threat about my secret being released to a journalist after nine months. That sword still hung over my head, but I needed more time to think about what I was going to do.

"My God," Jools said, "To think we worked with that monster all that time. He was the one behind all the notes, the yearbook… did we miss something?"

I shook my head. "He was on the edge and he eventually went over it. I think he must have had problems and he just cracked up. Perhaps it was my fault — when he found out about me, he couldn't deal with it."

Claire squeezed my arm so hard that it almost hurt. "No!" she said firmly. "No, no, no! If I ever hear you say that this was your fault again, I'll… I don't know what I'll do, but I won't be happy."

I smiled and nodded. "OK, I think I get the message."

Jools looked puzzled. "You've told us all that happened to you, but how on earth did the FBI find you?"

I smiled. "Good question. That's what I wondered. Apparently when I was kidnapped, an occupant of another lodge heard Gareth's gunshot and slipped out of his cabin to see what was going on. He crept towards our lodge, but by the time he got there, all he saw was the back of the four-wheel drive that was taking me away. He did spot its licence plate number, though. The police were told, but since it was quite a remote area, it took a while for them to get there. When they found Gareth and he told them what had happened, it was too late to try and block the roads to stop the vehicle."

They were hanging on my every word and I noticed Jools almost scowling when I stopped to take a drink of water. "From what they told me, the FBI Hostage Rescue Team was called in when they realised it was a kidnapping, but they had no idea where I had been taken. It could have been any number of remote areas in any direction. Anyway, Simon must have been fairly pissed off when he was going to get my pregnancy test kit. I reckon it took him a long time to get to the village. He bought the test and was in such a hurry or bad mood, that he nearly crashed into another car as he left the village. The owner of the car was so incensed that he went to the local sheriff and gave him the licence plate of the vehicle. The sheriff ran it through the computer not expecting to find anything." I grinned. "I bet he got quite a shock when the FBI phoned him back and then descended on their little village."

"That's how they found you?" Claire asked with enthralment.

I shook my head. "No, they knew I was somewhere nearby, but it's such a mountainous area that they could have searched for weeks without finding me. When Simon and his men drove back to the village the next day to buy a drill to cut my belt off with, they were spotted and discreetly tailed until they turned off onto the track where the cabin was."

I yawned and stretched. With a cheeky grin I said, "Maybe we could finish this in the morning. I'm really tired."

"No way!" "Not on your life!"

I chuckled. "OK. At this point, I had managed to get to the basement, but I had no idea of what was going on up above. The FBI had scrambled a helicopter from Seattle and used it to drop their men in to surround the cabin. There was a lot of shooting, but they took control of the cabin and killed all of Simon's henchmen. Except Simon and I've already told you where he was."

Jools wrinkled her brow. "That's all very well, but did they know about the back tunnel?"

I shook my head. "No, but we have Simon to thank for that."

"Huh?"

"He took the radio from the agent he killed in the basement. Apparently they have some sort of tracking device in their radios so the coordinator of any situation can see where all his men are. They noticed that the tracker was moving and then realised that there must be another way out. There was thick forest behind the cabin and the weather was awful. It took them quite some time to fight their way through it. We were travelling faster and had had a head start."

I paused and shivered as I remembered the final events. "They got there in time though… just."

They were sitting either side of me and both hugged me warmly.

Jools sat back and exhaled slowly. "Do you realise that if you hadn't pretended you were pregnant…"

I shuddered again. "I know…" I had thought about it a lot since I had learnt about what had been going on. It had seemed like a snap decision to me. I don't really know where the idea had come from, but it had just slipped into my mind. That made Simon go to the village and because of his bad mood, he got noticed. If it hadn't been for that, no one would have known where I was, no one would have come… I didn't want to think through that chain of events.

"That's scary, isn't it?" Claire asked. "That you were saved by such coincidences."

I shook my head. "It wasn't just coincidence," I said firmly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It was an answer to prayer." I remembered a favourite saying of my mother's: 'When I pray, coincidences happen'.

Jools grinned. "Whatever way you think about it, prayer or coincidence, I'm just glad that you're OK."

We chatted on for a bit. We thought about what we would do next and I was adamant that I wanted to go home. Jools said that she would see if she could get us on flights back to London the next evening. The FBI and police had said that I was free to leave whenever I wanted.

I chewed my lip. "Jools?"

"Yes?"

"I need to apologise to you…"

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. Please listen. I've been a real bitch recently and I've said and done things I'm ashamed of."

"Cara you don't have…"

"Please!" I implored. "I have to sort things out. For the last few months - perhaps even longer - I've been out of control. You've been right all the way along: I was drinking too much. I know that now. I can make all the excuses about stress, fear, pressure — but it doesn't change the facts." I paused, "The things I said in San Francisco… I need you as a friend Jools. If you give me the choice of you being my manager or friend... I can find another manager, but I'll never find a friend like you."

She smiled at me and then blinked hard. "Thanks," she said softly. She blinked again and then laughed. "Come here, you! You know how much I hate to be made to cry."

I hugged her. "Forgive me?" I asked.

"Of course I do."

We were all thoroughly exhausted and decided it was way past time to get some sleep. After hanging a 'Do not disturb' sign on the door of the suite, we went to bed. Claire and I shared one bedroom — and the bed, of course. As I lay down on the luxurious bed, I revelled in the comfort that I had been missing over the previous few days. Claire cuddled in beside me.

"Are you going to be OK?" she asked.

I lay there and looked up at the ceiling. "Definitely."

"Things OK between you and Dad?"

I smiled at her. "Better than OK, I think."

She grinned back at me. "I'm glad."

"Me too."

It wasn't long before sleep enfolded me in its welcome arms, but before it did I noted to myself that I had only begun to sort out the things I had planned to do. There was much more to come.

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