Dear God, what do they want? she thought. Was it money? She tried to remember how much money she had in the house. Whatever it was, it wasn't much. They never kept much cash around. They might pull out some jewelry and appliances, but it wouldn't amount to much.

Whatever it was they wanted, she prayed they would take it and leave.

She was afraid. There was a wild gleam in the eyes of this one, the one called Frankie.

The other one, Vic, reminded her of an ox. He might be more dangerous than Frankie.

If only Ray had been due to leave tomorrow instead of today, none of this would have happened.

It was awful how they'd guessed Ray would be gone awhile. They must have seen him loading the trunk of his car with his luggage.

Now her skin crawled as she remembered the clammy feel of Frankie's hand on her tits, the way he'd pinched her nipples, the way he'd bounced her tits on his fingers to test their weight.

They're animals, she thought. Emmylou and I have suddenly become the prisoners of two animals.

Then she heard shuffling feet and a moment later Emmylou came into the kitchen followed by Vic.

Emmylou's hands were tied behind her back. She looked pale and frightened. When she saw Paula, she started crying.

"Well, look at that," Frankie chuckled. "We got a crying little pussycat. Stop it, honey. I don't like tears. Stop the fucking tears or you'll get hurt."

Emmylou stopped crying and sat down on a chair next to Paula. "My wrists hurt," the girl sniffled.

Frankie rolled his eyes. "Go on, Vic, untie her hands and tie her to the chair. Make sure you tie her up good. I don't want her running around."

After Vic finished tying Emmylou to the chair, Frankie told him to do the same to Paula.

When mother and daughter were securely bound, Frankie patted Emmylou's cheek and said, "Later, we'll have a party, honey. You like parties?"