Kidnapped in Dunvegan

18

I must have fallen asleep because Molly's voice woke me from my slumber. She wasn't in the room with me, she was stood with Adam in the kitchen. Adam seemed to be irritable as always and leaned against the door frame, while Molly stood over the stove and stirred something in a saucepan.

"You look terrible. When was the last time you shaved? Drink a drop of whiskey and forget this girl."

"What girl?", grumbled Adam.

"The girl you haven't been able to get out of your head for days. Did you think I wouldn't notice? You are moody, absent-minded and I haven't seen any other women here since she left." Molly turned away from the saucepan and briefly looked right into the camera which must have been installed in one of the shelves directly opposite the door. She was putting on a show. Just for me. She was just showing me that Adam wasn't indifferent to me. "You shouldn't have let her go," she said now and looked at Adam.

"Maybe I should have kept her here while there's a lunatic out there?" Adam pursed his lips. "I also saw the doubt in her eyes. She really believed that I was behind all of it."

"That must have hurt you," Molly affirmed and nodded sympathetically. She was a good actress, this psychopath.

"Yes, it did," said Adam sadly and my heart performed a somersault. He really saw more in me than just one of his playthings. The nausea I felt in my stomach turned into gentle butterflies in the blink of an eye. But what did I get out of knowing this? I would die down here and he would never know. At least that made me feel a bit more at ease.

"Does it annoy you that your father knew you so well?"

Adam raised his head and looked at Molly before shaking his head. "At first I was angry. I tried to upset her and brought the Italian tourist here. I wanted to hurt her because I had started to become attracted to her. But then ..." He broke off and to my annoyance let the rest of his words hang in the air.

Later, I was able to see Adam in the gallery. He was stood in front of the portrait of his father which I had restored. He looked at it pensively. "You've won again," he said. "But it doesn't matter. I'm a madman in her eyes. And even if that's not the case, she is better off in London. Maybe I really do feel something when I look at her, but how could I ever be sure that she won't lie to me?"

A tear ran down his red hot cheek.

Adam turned away from the painting and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number and waited, then he put the phone down again. "Maybe it's better that she's not there. Maybe it's better if I don't think about her anymore," Adam shouted angrily and thumped the wall next to the picture of his father with his fist.

I blinked the tears out of my eyes and fought against the heavy lump in my throat. It didn't make any difference to know that Adam felt attracted to me. It just made it even worse for me hanging in the basement and seeing him. I closed my eyes and tried to suppress any noise. I was completely helpless. I felt a terrible burning sensation in my throat from thirst. I desperately focused on every pain in my body just to take my mind off of Adam and Molly and my imminent death.

Hours must have passed. I had lost all feeling in my hands and feet. I could barely feel my limbs.

A noise must have distracted Adam and Molly from their breakfast because they were both looking out into the kitchen. The frame became small and another one came to the fore when Adam entered the reception area. The heavy front door had been pushed open and Alfred entered the house with a number of uniformed police officers.

I started to get hopeful. I pulled at the fetters in desperation and made a moaning sound against my gag. I tried to shout, but there was no point. I stared mesmerized at the monitor and prayed that the police officers would find me. Then I thought about the last search and about the fact that the Italian girl was perhaps still alive at that time and she wasn't found either. The hope I had subsided as quickly as it had appeared. However, I still prayed in silence.