Dominic and Stephen had just left--she could still smell them on the sheet she'd buried her face in--a combination of aftershave, sweat, and musk. *Son of a bitch Dominic. I think that mother got come in my hair. Baxter just laid his along my thigh, which is bad enough, but in my hair? And I'm not gonna be grateful he didn't come on my face, like he wanted. I wonder if Baxter was trying to make me grateful when he told him not to do that?*

She got up and went to the shower. She didn't bother with the sheet curtain this time, since Dominic had been talking about going for a pizza when he went out. Even if he was watching--fuck it. He'd already seen everything she had. *I think it'll gall him if I just act like the dog is watching... no big deal.*

She showered, washing her hair with the bar of soap. Stephen had explained to her that she was being allowed soap because he'd done a little research and learned that this brand wouldn't be toxic if she decided to eat it. Mina had to wonder why he'd felt compelled to do that research. Had one of his 'pets' eaten a bar, or chugged a bottle of shampoo, in an effort to somehow escape this concrete cage?

When she was done, she wadded up the soiled sheets and tossed them toward the door, knowing that Dominic replace them with fresh ones sometime soon. She got back into her clothes, again refusing to be grateful that she'd been allowed to keep them. *I think they believe that they'll eventually get too funky for me to be able to stand them, and I'll go naked. Fat fucking chance. Before that happens I'll wash them with the soap, and I'll wear them till they rot off my body.* Mina lay back on the bed and used the remote to turn on the television. She wasn't really interested in watching anything, but she wanted the noise, the voices--the reminder that there was a world outside this box.

*I can't believe he kept on doing that after I peed. I mean, he said he was going to, and I guess I can understand him keeping on after I did it the first time, but I would have thought the second time would have dampened his enthusiasm. Crap. Maybe three would have been the charm. I should have saved a little.*

Mina heaved a sigh. *How long have I been down here? I think it's been, mmm... If I go by the meals they've been bringing me, I think it's coming up on two days. I wonder if anyone has missed me yet? My rent is paid up through the month. If I don't pay my utility bills, they'll just send me dunning notices, then shut off the services. It could be two or three months before they start phoning, and even then they'll just think I'm avoiding them... that is unless the phone is cut off first. Then they'll think I skipped town. My neighbors won't report me missing. Hell, I don't think we've exchanged more than two dozen words since I moved in. Half of that was them complaining about the volume on my television, so since I won't be there to play it, they'll probably just be relieved. Who else? Hollachuck will be pissed that I'm not at work.* A bleak feeling stole over her. *And all Baxter has to do is tell her that I've decided to take a leave of abscence. He can tell everybody that, and who's going to question him?*

Mina searched her mind again for anyone who might be involved enough in her life to be alarmed when she dropped off the face of the earth, and a sense of bleakness crept over her. *Lord, I didn't realized I was that cut off from the world. I damn sure didn't think that it could ever be hazardous. Now here I am, with no one to care that I've vanished. They have to know you're there before they can miss you, and I've made sure that I was as unnoticable as possible. Maybe...* She rolled on her belly again, away from the bright, senseless chatter coming from the television. *Maybe I had it wrong? Isn't there anyone out there looking for me?*

"Dominic, we need to cover our tracks a little more, and quickly--just in case Turner decides to go to the authorities."

Stephen and Dominic were sitting at the kitchen table, eating sandwiches. Miss Fulham had been on her way to bed, but when the two had arrived in search of snacks, she'd insisted on fixing the quick repast before going to her room. Dominic licked a smear of mayonaise off his finger, then took a swig of beer. "They're not gonna believe anything he tells them, boss."

"We can't be sure. Occasionally you get one or two who aren't content to follow the path of least resistance. Tomorrow I will tell Mrs. Hollachuck that I've given Mina some time off--just to collect herself. I'll be suitably vague about her destination." He smiled. "After all, I'm only her employer--there's no reason why she'd confide her personal plans. I need you to go to her apartment and make it look like she's left on an extended trip. You know--remove any luggage and most of her clothes, empty the perishables out of the refrigerator."

Dominic nodded. "I have a few brouchures for cruises I got last month. How about if I leave a couple prominently displayed on the coffee table or kitchen counter?"

"Excellent idea. Do they have printed schedules at the bus station? We might as well send them in as many directions as possible."

"I'll stop by on my way in and check." He smiled. "This'll be kinda fun, rummaging around in her things."

"Just be careful about being seen. Oh, and fingerprints..."

"Boss, please." Dominic sounded pained. He got up and opened the cabinet under the sink. Reaching into a small cardboard box, he withdrew a pair of latex gloves. "I don't even have to buy my own supplies. Fulham wouldn't operate without 'em."

"I'm sorry, Dominic. I didn't really doubt you."

"I know, Boss."

Dominic stopped at the bus station on his way to Mina's place. There were no printed schedules, but he copied down a few wildly divergent times and destinations before he left. No one saw him enter Mina's building, and the halls were deserted as he used her own key to let himself in. Wearing the latex gloves, he spent a leisurely half-hour in the apartment.

There were no suitcases (but then, Mina wasn't the sort to travel a lot), so he stuffed all but a few of her garments into a trash bag, along with personal care items. He ran a fast souring half quart of milk down the sink, and bagged up some bacon, eggs, and a tomato for disposal. Then he spread the brochures out near the phone, and tacked the copied schedule on the little corkboard on the refrigerator.

No one saw him as he deposited the food in the trash can outside, and he swung the sack of clothes, whistling cheerfully, as he took it to his car, down the block. He was just about to leave when he saw a vaguely familiar car coming down the block. He instantly slumped down, watching as it turned the corner. *I could be wrong, but I think I'll wait a minute--just in case.* A few moments later Axel Turner came around the corner and entered the building. *Son of a bitch! Axel, how many times do you have to be kicked before you stay down?*

He considered just leaving, but decided that Baxter probably wouldn't mind if he did something to discourange the ex-security guard--as long as it wasn't anything permanent. *Nope, nothing fatal. That might draw attention.* He grinned. *Doesn't mean I can't have fun, though.*

*Shit, I think that coughing up a lung would've been easier than getting hold of Mina's address. Lucky for me she isn't anal retentive.*

He'd waited till dark, then gone across to the company parking lot, making his way to Mina's car. It was locked, so he had to walk around the vehicle, peering in, looking for some scrap. She'd left a bank statement, still in its ripped open envelope, laying on the front seat.

He'd squinted and peered, and just barely managed to make out the address behind the celophane window. Now he stood outside the door to Mina's apartment. *No wonder she didn't feel like questioning Baxter's interest. This place is more of a crackerbox than mine.* He jammed his thumb against the doorbell, ready to lean on it till someone either answered, or called the cops. There was no sound. "Fuck. Figures." He knocked on the door, and waited. When there was no response in thirty seconds, he knocked again, louder and longer. Again there was no response, and finally he pounded, long and loud. It felt like his hand was bruising by the time someone came out of the elevator. They gave him a look of equal parts curiosity and suspicion as they went to the next apartment. "Excuse me?"

The man paused, eyeing him warily. "Yeah?"

"Have you seen the woman who lives in this apartment?"

"Sure, I have. I see her goin' to work, or comin' back from the store."

*Idiot.* "I mean when was the last time you saw her?"

The man frowned. "Oh, hell, I don't know. Must've been three--four days ago. I think maybe she went on vacation. I haven't heard her teevee going for awhile, and brother, these walls are so thin you hear everything."

"Did she say anything about going away?"

"No. Why should she?"

"Well, I thought she might ask you to keep an eye on things."

He made a dismissive gesture. "Hell, we don't talk."

As the man went inside, Axel muttered, "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He stared at the door, wishing that he had a little more larceny in his soul--then he might know a way to break in and see what was what. *Nothing for it. I'm going to have to go to the cops.*

Axel made his way back out onto the street and began to walk to his car. He'd parked around the corner from the apartment building, figuring that it would be a good idea to attract as little attention as possible. When the pain exploded in his head, he wished that he hadn't been so cautious.

He staggered forward, turing as he fell against his car. The light was bad, but he could still tell what the man had hit him with. It was one of those long flashlights--the kind that doubled as batons for security guards everywhere, the kind that were weighted with at least four D batteries.

He didn't get a good look at his attacker, just a blur of dark clothes and pale face as he swung the flashlight again, clipping him on the jaw. Axel hit the sidewalk, and rolled instinctively, missing a kick that would have probably knocked him unconscious, or worse. The next kick landed in his side, though, almost lifting him off the pavement. His assailent shoved the flashlight through a loop on his belt, then dropped to his knees. He grabbed Axel's shirt and punched him in the face, stunning him.

As the man shoved his hand into Axel's pocket, Axel tried to focus on his face. He had a surreal moment before he realized that the man was wearing what looked like a pair of white cotton panties over his head, peering through a leg hole. His wallet was removed. Axel tried to throw a punch, but the thug blocked it easily, and back-handed him. "You really are pathetic," he said. He shook Axel. "And you're where you shouldn't be. Give it up, man. She doesn't want to be found."

He dropped Axel, and Axel winced as his head bounced on the concrete. By the time he could sit up, the man was gone. Axel got up stiffly, grateful that the man hadn't stolen his keys, and got in his car. *Police, or emergency room? Better go to the emergency room, in case I have a concussion, or...* He suddenly pounded on the steering wheel. No cash, no credit cards, and no more hospitalization. He started the car, thinking sourly, *Try to do a good deed...*

The detective looked at the man sitting across the desk from him. *Why do I get all the nut jobs?* "Okay, Mister Turner, you want to file a missing person report?"

Axel was gingerly sipping coffee. He had a fresh bandage on his jaw, where it had been scraped on the cement. "Yeah. I need to file an assault charge, too, but I'm not sure which one I should file first, so I came to you."

"These are related?"

"Oh, hell yes!"

"Do you know the identity of your assailant, and possibly where he can be found?"

"Sure do."

"Then let's start with the missing person. It's best to get these out as quickly as possible. Time is often of the essence. Who's gone missing."

"Mina O'Connell. That's capital O-apostrophe-capital cee..."

"We have an O'Connell in the office, sir. Your relationship to her?" Axel paused with the cup half-way to his lips. "Husband? Family member?" He remained silent. "Boyfriend?"

"I work with her."

"You're her employer?"

"No, I'm security guard at... I mean, I was security guard at her office, and..."

"Excuse me, you no longer work there?"

"No. They let me go."

"Then you don't really have a relationship with her?"

"What the hell's the difference?" Axel snapped. "She's missing."

"Do you have contact with her on a regular basis? We can file the report even if you don't have a close relationship if you have close contact, and can demonstrate that there's been a significant deviance in her normal routine."

Axel stared at him. Finally he said, "I'm her boyfriend, okay?"

The detective gave him a suspicious look. "That's not what you said before."

Axel stood up angrily. "Look, there's something really strange going on. I went to her apartment to check on her, and there was no one there. O'Connell isn't exactly the sort to be out partying, you know? And then when I was leaving, that bastard Dominic Genello jumped me and kicked my ass, telling me I was where I shouldn't be, and she didn't want to be found, and..."

"You can positively identify this Genello?"

"Sure I can. Who else would it be?"

The detective sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You mean that you didn't get a clear look at his face?"

"No. He had a pair of panties pulled over his head."

The detective threw down his pen in disgust.

"While I can understand your motives, Dominic, it seems to me that you took an unnecessary risk."

"Don't worry about it, boss. No one saw me, not going in, or when I kicked Turner's ass. And I didn't do any permanent damage, just lumped him up a little, to encourage him to mind his own business."

"But if he can identify you..."

"Hey, I have an alibi from a solid citizen, don't I?" He bowed toward Stephen. "And any way, unless he lies his ass off, he can't claim he can really identify me. I hid my face."

"How so?"

He grinned. "I used a pair of your newest pet's undies."

"Dominic!" Stephen's voice was a little shocked, but there was a definite undertone of titilation.

Dominic shrugged. "I would've used a pair of pantyhose, but she doesn't seem to own any."

"Yes, that's something I've observed about her. She loathes hose. She wears dress socks instead." He paused. "What was it like?"

Dominic shrugged again. "Kinda kinky, but not as much as it could've been. They were plain white cotton--no Victoria's Secret or Frederick's of Hollywood."

"Of course not."

"Of course not," Dominic agreed. He wrinkled his nose. "I think she washes with Surf."