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Pretty sure that Kansas wouldn’t be useful to the police, he relaxed. It couldn’t be taken back, and didn’t seem devastating to his freedom anyways. He stepped on the gas.
    In just a few hours, his efforts were finally going to pay off, and Bailey’s waking nightmare would begin.

Chapter Thirteen
    J ust before midnight, Ricky pulled into a truck stop outside of Sioux Center, Iowa. He wasn’t tired, and he didn’t need a bathroom break. The location was the stage for his next crime.
    He liked to be out of the public eye, as far from scrutiny as possible, but a few years back, he discovered how much privacy a truck stop could provide. Eighteen-wheelers and other road-weary travelers used the large lots to park, rest, and be undisturbed. Many Americans have jobs that keep them on the road for days at a time, and sleeping in their vehicles is cheaper than renting a motel room. Those seeking repose will leave their engines running, headlights off, and parking lights on. It signals that the vehicle is occupied and desires privacy. It’s an unspoken code between travelers of America’s roadways.
    He found a suitable slot, turned on the parking lights, and locked the doors. Behind the two front bucket seats, he had constructed a wall to separate the cab from the cargo area. It was covered in gray carpet to match the interior and had a door in the middle. He bent low, stepped through, and latched it shut.
    Bailey was lying on a small bed designed to fold up against the wall. She huddled to the back, quivering from fear at his entrance. He had made a pit stop earlier to gag her, and he bound her hands and feet. Since waking in the dark, groggy from the chloroform, she tried to scream for help, but all that came out were muted sobs. The only sensation she could remember was road vibration. Tears ran down both flushed cheeks as she looked at the man before her.
    He let the innocent, frightened image of Bailey burn into his eyes as he pulled her toward him. She tried to fight, but fear and an aching head robbed her muscles of strength. He secured a length of rope to the coils on her wrists. The opposite end was fed through a floor ring. He pulled it snug with Bailey’s hands now above her head and tied it off. Her feet were separated and bound to floor rings below each bottom corner of the bed. Several loops were snaked around each ankle and stretched tightly. He didn’t want her to have any wiggle room. The placement of the rings was not coincidence. He installed them himself, the exact arrangement allowing him to hold his company in ideal positions.
    From above, her body was in the shape of an upside down Y. Her legs were spread with both arms pulled straight back. For what he wanted, the position was most accommodating. There was no regard for discomfort. The rough fibers cruelly bit her skin.
    Pain and terror combined, Bailey’s sobs grew stronger, and her body shook. But little to no sound emanated from the desperate screams. The large diameter rope used for the gag was too thick and cut into the corners of her mouth. She had to breathe through her stuffy nose.
    “Take it easy, honey,” he said. “It’s no use.” He smiled wickedly and kept working.
    This was when things were hardest. Alone in the presence of his lover, he was ready for action. He had lost control of himself once before and regretted it. He hadn’t taken the proper time to set things up. When it was over, there was no video to watch, pictures to review, or words to read on lonely days.
    He went to too much effort in kidnapping Bailey and wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. He had to do things right the first time. The camcorder needed to be set up, the angle checked, and the tape rolling. A digital camera was put in place. He adjusted the timer to snap a photo every few seconds. Documentation was most precious. It enabled him to relive each event whenever and however many times he wanted. It was so much better than memory.
    He set up