“Yes,” Amy continued. “He said his lift wasn’t working, and since it was cold, He offered me a chance to sit in his cab while I called someone. I could have easily walked back inside, but he seemed harmless and was so good looking, I decided to trust him.” She started to cry as the next image flooded her eyes. “He pushed a rag over my mouth and nose and taped my mouth. Said be quiet or else. He had a taser. I stayed quiet. He put a pillowcase over my head and took my cell phone. Then he drove us here, pulled me out and after un-taping my mouth, pushed me down the stairs.” She paused to wipe her eyes again. “I remember falling down and down. Until I landed on this filthy concrete floor that just about broke my arm. As I was crying from the pain, he called someone to say he had another property. In a different tone than before. His voice had been one of compassion. Now it was of unadulterated belligerent hatred, with a good amount of greed peppered in there as well. He then put a tarp over the bulkhead door, got into his truck, and drove off.”

“Its okay,” the passive voice assured her. “It’s not your fault.”

“Um, really?,” the aggressive voice said back. “Who decided on her own to get into that total stranger’s cab because he was good looking? Huh?”

“We can debate all this later,” Amy’s inner core strength said in hopes that the conversation wouldn’t digress. “Seriously, if we don’t get out of here, there won’t be a later.”

The room went silent.

“Good,” Cassandra added. “Amy, try and remember the specifics. How long were you on the road? Did you go over any railroad tracks? How many times did you change roads? We the roads paved? That sort of thing?”

Amy pursed her lips and puffed out her cheeks. “Okay. We started by turning left out of my parking lot followed by two more lefts. All paved roads.” She closed her eyes. The traumatic memory of her abduction, now burned into her memory bank, was playing out before like a movie. “That would put us on Logan. He gunned it, but not for long as he took a quick right. He gunned it again. This felt like a major road, so it had to have been Belvidere blacktop. We went over what felt like a small hill, but it was so small that it had to have been where the road intersects US 20. We went straight. It was a little bit down the road when we turned left. We went down a ramp and really started going fast. This had to have been the toll road. We stayed on that for about eighteen minutes.”

“Wait, how could you have possibly known that?” the sarcastic voice asked.

“Simple,” Amy answered. “Bruce had WBBM on the radio. The station chimed at the top of the hour when we got on. The station always gives traffic advice and weather conditions on