“It’s just around the corner, right here,” Mickie told the cab driver.  As soon as the car stopped, she opened the door, paid him and stepped out into the night air.  She’d been traveling since dawn this morning and her body was beginning to feel it.  She walked up the steps to the front door and rang the bell.

No answer.

“Come on, Alison, answer the door,” she said aloud.  Four rings and no one came.  Something wasn’t right.

Shivering in the cold breeze, Mickie pulled her cell phone out and began dialing.  “No, he’s not home tonight, either,” she reminded herself.  Frustrated, she shoved the phone back into her jacket pocket and rolled her suitcase over to the carport, where at least she could hide it while she figured out what to do. 

She heard a faint noise coming from the back yard and cautiously crept around to see what it might be.  Through the bushes to the right and left of the garden gate on the south side of the carport, she saw a dark shape laying on the ground.  Being a woman alone, she thought about running to one of the other homes on the block to get some help.  She’d seen enough horror movies to know that the dumbest woman was the one who went into danger, asking if there was anyone out there who might hurt her.

A moan came from the shape.  Whoever it was, they were in a terrific amount of pain; that much she sensed.  She went closer, even though she knew it might be a mistake.  The shape was a woman, fully clothed, but unrecognizable.  She had blood all over her head and face.  Blood ran freely from a wound near her right temple and her hands were tied behind her back. 

Frantically, Mickie looked around to see if there was still danger lurking in the shadows near the house.  With all of the trees and shrubbery, it was hard to tell if there was anyone there. Still, she wasn’t one to leave someone helpless, like this woman was.  Her cell phone suddenly seemed like the heaviest thing she’d ever had in her pocket.  She brought it out and quickly looked at the time. 

Eleven sixteen.  Why oh why did these things always happen when help might be hard to find? 

Another moan.  Mickie looked the figure over one more time and decided that turning her over wouldn’t hurt her more than she was already.  She pulled gently on the ties that bound her hands, but they were secure.  She’d have to cut them to get them off.  But how could she roll her onto her back and cause more pain with her arms like that?  Nothing was making sense.  She could feel in her gut, though that the person responsible for the wounds on this woman’s body was close. 

He was closer than she thought.  Just as Mickie raised her head from listening for breath sounds from the woman, she noticed a pair of black, steel-toed work boots coming toward her from the bushes on her left.  With no time to escape, she huddled there, over the body, her hands trying in vain to protect her head.  For just as she made the move, a flat edged shovel crashed down on her back, causing her to scream out in pain and terror. 

She tried to crawl to safety, but only made it a few feet when the shovel crashed down again, this time on the back of her head.  Mickie now layed there, unconscious and splayed out over the legs of the other woman. 

Whistling an old seventies tune, the man dragged the women down into the basement.  Mickie’s head bobbed as he lugged her body down the stairs, her feet hitting each step hard.  As soon as both women were inside and the door closed behind him, he shoved the lock over and prepared to do his work in private.