Her Secret Service Agent. Stephanie Doyle

I could have a blanket and wipe myself off.”

      The Hand connected with her right cheek this time.

      Okay, the hitting was starting to piss her off. Although maybe that was a good thing. The anger mixed with her fear might keep her warm a little longer. Which was important because if she died of hypothermia before Joe rescued her, she was sure she’d never hear the end of it.

      Wait, she thought hazily, that didn’t make sense. She tried to shake off the low buzzing in her head. She needed to stay clear. She needed to listen for clues.

      “Sugarplum, Sugarplum, I don’t want to hurt you. I have to hurt you because you don’t understand. You can’t get clean from the outside. You need to get clean from the inside. Do you understand now?”

      She let her head fall forward a few times.

      “Goooood,” The Hand crooned. Then he began to stroke her hair. “You’ll see, Sugarplum. This will work. You’ll get clean and I will have been the one to save you. Then we can be together. Forever.”

      She didn’t want to ask, but she had to know. “What if... I...don’t...get clean?”

      A thin point of pressure against the base of her throat penetrated the numbness. It wasn’t a gun. It was too thin. Sharp. A knife.

      “Then I’m going to have to make you clean. I’m going to have to open you up so I can get the dirt out. Then I will baptize you in your own blood. You’ll like that. You will at least be clean for God.”

      “Oh...kay...” she muttered, losing all sense of what he was saying. She was fading. She felt it. Her body was starting to shut down, and for the first time Vivian considered what might happen if Joe didn’t get to her in time.

      “I don’t want to do it, Sugarplum. I surely don’t. God has told me that you are my one and only beloved, and you must sparkle if you are going to be with me. But if I can’t get you to sparkle...if I can’t make you shine...then I have to kill you, don’t you see? I can’t let you be with anyone else. Not when you’re so dirty. Clean with me or dirty and dead.”

      “Joe... Joe,” she muttered like a mantra over and over again.

      “Very slowly, put the knife down and back away from the woman.”

      Vivian lifted her head at the new voice in the room. She hadn’t heard the door over The Hand’s talking.

      “Joe,” she cried out.

      “Shut up, Vivian.”

      Yep, that sounded just like him.

      “No!” The Hand cried out in return. “You can’t have her! She’s a dirty slut, but she’s mine. She’s mine. She’s all mine!”

      “This is your last warning. Put the knife down and step away from the chair.”

      “Never! I love her. I love Sugarplum this much!”

      Three successive shots rang out. Vivian felt a heavy weight fall against her body, and then she felt something wet and warm run down her stomach and legs.

      The smell of it hit her like a punch in the gut.

      Blood.

      Then she didn’t feel anything anymore.

      * * *

      JOE SAT IN the waiting area of the hospital, his head in his hands.

      What did I do? What did I do?

      The single question kept rolling over in his head, and he couldn’t turn it off. He probably should have been more focused on the events of the last three days. Working with the FBI, identifying Harold McGraw through footage at various public events, tracking down an obscure piece of property in northern Virginia he owned. Only forty miles outside DC.

      It had been good work by everyone on the team, and they found her. Alive.

      It had been the first time he’d discharged his weapon as an agent, and it had been lethal. Joe didn’t care, so why did he keep asking the question?

      What did I do? What did I do?

      He knew the answer.

      I let her go. I let her go. I let her go.

      He heard a door open, and then several people were walking down the hospital corridor toward him. Secret Service in front of and behind the president. Joe got up and walked to intercept them. He had to know how she was.

      “Sir,” Joe began.

      The two men in front of the president stepped aside, and Joe noticed how much older Alan Bennett looked today than he had just three days ago. As if he’d aged three years instead.

      “Please, sir. If you could tell me how she is. Anything. I’m going crazy waiting for some kind of news.”

      The look of contempt on the president’s face might have made another man back off, but Joe wasn’t going anywhere.

      Yes, he knew he deserved the older man’s rage. Joe had given a full report to the president immediately after Vivian had been taken. He had claimed total responsibility for allowing her to leave his line of sight voluntarily. He hadn’t told the full truth, of course. He would never go there. Certainly not with her father.

      He’d said only that they had argued and exchanged harsh words. Vivian had been upset and Joe had thought she needed a moment to gather her composure.

      Carl, his backup, had been monitoring the back of the house. It had taken Harold McGraw only minutes to knock her out and put her in his van. Drunken college students watched it happen like it was some kind of fraternity prank. So damn easy.

      “I’ve given notice to your superior. You’re not on suspension. You’re terminated. Effective immediately. Now leave my sight.”

      Joe dropped his head. “Understood, sir. But if I could just see her...”

      That was when he heard it. A shrill scream from behind the door the president had just exited.

      “Joe! I need Joe!”

      “If I could see her... I might help to calm her panic attacks.”

      “Jooooe! Joe! Where is he?”

      “Good question, Joe. Where were you?” The president didn’t wait for an answer and instead closed his eyes. His pain was a tangible presence in the hallway. When he opened them, Joe knew for certain he was never going to see Vivian Bennett again.

      “I...failed her. I know. But I can help her now.”

      “I think you’ve done enough.”

      Joe nodded. This man wasn’t going to let him pass. “Please, if you just tell me... McGraw, did he...? I mean the rape kit...was it...?”

      He couldn’t even get the words out, but in what must have been a moment of empathy, the president said, “He didn’t rape her.”

      The breath left Joe’s body then, and he thought he actually might pass out. She’d been beaten, psychologically abused, but not sexually assaulted. Her first time wasn’t that. It was small comfort, but he had to know.

      “Thank you. For that. Now you have to promise me you’ll take care of her,” Joe begged. “I know you’re the president, but you have to be her father now.”

      “Where’s Joe! I want Joe!”

      Joe closed his eyes against the anguish in her voice. “You have to promise me. Please... I can’t leave her unless I know that.”

      President Bennett got up in his face. “If you don’t leave now, my men will assume you are a credible threat to myself and my family and have you arrested.”

      Joe dropped his head. He had no choice. He turned and walked down the hallway as fast as he could without running. Not because he was afraid of being arrested but because if he had to listen to the sound of