Alone in her kidnapper’s isolated cabin Candice waited with growing frustration for her husband’s arrival. Thankfully Pierce, her dim witted husband had quickly agreed to the kidnapper’s terms, one million dollars in used bills and no police involvement, some days it’s good to be married to a spineless wimp like Pierce, if he’d had balls he might have stupidly held out when her kidnapper threatened to torture her.

Still, the only real reason she’d married Pierce was for his money. Perhaps a week long shopping trip to Paris to compensate for the ordeal her kidnapper had forced her to endure would teach her worthless husband to appreciate her. Candice was already thinking of which exclusive boutiques she was going to visit when the bomb directly beneath her chair exploded, a moment later the propane tanks ignited turning the shattered remains of the cabin into a raging inferno.

Thirty minutes earlier, standing on a street corner in downtown Manhattan, Pierce’s cell phone rang, “You lying worthless piece of shit, I told you not to call the cops, kiss that sweet piece of ass you call your wife goodbye because you’re never going to see her alive again.”

“Please don’t do this, I have the million you asked for but I’ll pay anything you want, name your price and I’ll pay it, please just don’t hurt Candice.”

Candice’s kidnapper smiled, “Too late asshole, because of you, she’s already as good as dead.” Still smiling, he ended the call and removed the battery from his pre-paid cell phone. Both the phone and its battery would be at the bottom of the East River within ten minutes.

Staring at his phone in utter disbelief Pierce said to the unseen federal agents monitoring the call, “Please tell me you were able to trace that call and how the Hell did he figure out the FBI was investigating my wife’s abduction?”

Later that evening firefighters in a small town in the Catskill Mountains responded to a fire at a remote abandoned cabin in the hills outside of town. Investigators found badly charred human remains in the cabin and in the trash near the cabin Candice’s purse and Id. Still, it would take several weeks to confirm the remains as Candice’s the heat of the fire was so intense that even her dental work had partially melted.

Six months after his wife’s funeral Pierce was sitting in a beach side bar in the Cayman Islands nursing a margarita when his cell phone rang, “I received your payment Mr. Smith and my flight will be boarding momentarily and should you ever again need my services I believe you know how to reach me.”

Watching his pretty bikini clad executive assistant walking toward where he sat at the bar, Pierce smiled, “Indeed Mr. Jones enjoy the twenty million and should I be in further need of your extemporary services I’ll be in touch.”