The Big Bad Wolf

SOMETHING INCREDIBLE WAS about to happen. It was a gorgeous afternoon in eastern Pennsylvania. The Art Director found himself lost in the dazzling blue of the sky, and the reflections of the white clouds sliding across his windshield were mesmerizing. Am I doing the right thing now? he had asked himself several times during the ride. He thought that he was. "You have to admit that it's beautiful," he said to the bound passenger in his Mercedes G-Class SUV. "It is," said Audrey Meek. She was thinking that she'd believed she would never see the outdoors again, never smell fresh grass and flowers. So where was this madman taking her with her hands tied? They were driving away from his cabin. Going where? What did it mean? She was terrified but trying not to show it. Small talk, she told herself. Keep him talking. "You like this G-Class?" she asked, and immediately knew it was an insane question, just insane. His tight smile, but especially his eyes, told her that he thought so too. And yet he answered politely. "I do, actually. At first I thought it was the final proof that rich people are incredibly stupid. I mean, it's kind of like putting a Mercedes logo on a wheelbarrow and then paying triple for it. But I do like the oddness of the vehicle, the rigid lines of the design, the gizmos like lockable differentials. Of course, I'll have to get rid of this one now, won't I?" Oh, God, she was afraid to ask why, but maybe she knew already. She'd seen the car he drove. Maybe someone else had too. But she had also seen his face, so he wasn't really making sense. Or was he? Suddenly Audrey found that she couldn't talk at all. No words would come out of her mouth, which was very dry. This self-professed nice guy, who said he wanted to be her friend but who had raped her half a dozen times, was going to kill her very soon. And then what? Bury her out here in the beautiful woods? Dump her body in a gorgeous lake with a heavy weight attached to it? Tears formed in Audrey's eyes, and her brain buzzed as if there were a short in the circuits. She didn't want to die. Not now, not like this. She loved her children, her husband, Georges, and even her company. It had taken her so long, so much sacrifice and hard work, to get her life right. And now this had to happen, this fluke, this incredibly bad luck. The Art Director turned sharply onto a narrow dirt road, then sped down it much too fast. Where was he going? Why so fast? What was at the end of the road? But apparently they weren't going all the way to the end. He was braking. "My God, no!" Audrey screamed. "No! Please! Don't!" He stopped the car but let the engine run. "Please," she pleaded. "Oh, please... don't do this. Please, please, please. You don't have to kill me." The Art Director merely smiled. "Give us a hug, Audrey. Then get out of the car before I change my mind. You're free. I'm not going to hurt you. You see, I love you too much."