FORTY THREE

Sleep eluded everyone that night. Daniel and Jane had awkwardly bid each other good night, climbed into bed and turned away from one another, each pretending to fall into a deep slumber.

But the curtain to Jane’s eyes refused to close and her mind obsessively replayed the image from the torn photo. She was sure of it, the man who defiled her was the same person who sent the photo, how else could she explain the Bobby McFerrin song? She had been heavily drugged the night of the fraternity but there was no denying the tune she heard when the jerk soiled her.

Please don’t let any harm come to little Timmy…she prayed, biting her lips and willing herself not to tremble.

Laying with his back towards her was Daniel, all curled up with eyes wide open. He too was having a sleepless night. He scoffed slightly under the cover of his blanket; it was absurd but he, Daniel Winters, the dashing billionaire playboy whom all women adored had fallen in