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You make your way to the phone on the kitchen counter.  You pick up the phone and dial the police department, the number is already programmed on a speed dial.  Another thoughful gesture by your mother when she gave it to you.  You ask to be put through to Detective Stones office. 


"Detective Stone is out on a call but I can forward you to his voicemail."  The thick southern accent informs you.  Your stomach turns, realizing who you are talking to.  You take a deep breath and ask for the voicemail.  His deep reassuring voice comes across the phone, followed by a beep.  You leave your name and number in a shakey voice.  Your stress is obvious in the emotion lurking behind your words.  You hang up the phone and sit back down on the chair, taking the cordless phone with you.  You stare fearfully at the bag on the table.  For a moment, you think about opening it up and looking inside, but you decide you will wait until Detective Stone returns your call.   You flick on the tv.  You sit there watching mindlessly, waiting for the phone to ring.  You feel completely lost, unable to do anything until someone gives you some kind of direction.  You take a ragged emotion filled breath and sink against the chair back.  Terror rips through your body as a gloved hand presses forcefully against your mouth, muffling your instantanious scream.  You buck and struggle, fighting off your attacker violently until you feel the biting cold of a steely barell pressed against your temple.  


"Couldn't just pour yourself a glass of wine could you?" an ominous voice whispers in your ear.  " That would have made this so much easier"  It's Talon.  


You allow your hands to drop to your sides, terrified that any movement will convince him to pull the trigger.   





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