"Help! Whoever's out there, get me out, please."

"Cedric Jones?"

"Yes!"

"It's okay, man. I'm Sergeant Ray Stonesifer of the Colby Police."

"There's a lock on that door, Sergeant," a deeper voice said. "Think we could come up with a bolt cutter?"

"Maybe there's another door," Stonesifer said.

"There are two on the back side of the barn," Cedric called out, "but they're both padlocked, too."

"You're alone then?"

"Yeah."

"Fiske, would you bring the bolt cutters, please."

"Sure, Sarge."

"Mr. Jones, are you okay?" This from the deeper voice.

"Yes, I'm okay now that somebody's here."

They must have left their vehicle or vehicles at the road, because it seemed to take forever for Fiske to get back with the bolt cutters.

In the interim Stonesifer and the other man had gone to the back of the building and Stonesifer said, "Yeah, there's his car."

"We knew it would be here," the other voice said.

Then Cedric heard the footfalls of a man running. Sounding somewhat out of breath, Officer Fiske said, "Should I open one of these, Sergeant? Or should I ask SAC McNamee?"

"Please do the honors, Officer," said the man who must have been McNamee. "I'm here to observe and provide support, but this is Sergeant Stonesifer's show."

After two loud snaps, the door was opened. Stonesifer was the first to enter, pistol in hand. He was followed by a man in dark pants and a dark windbreaker and a uniformed cop, both with pistols drawn.

At that moment Cedric forgot about his humiliation, about being naked, bound, and dirty. He felt such relief that tears ran down his face.

"Man, am I glad to see you!" Stonesifer was the cute redhead he'd met at the CQ meeting in the fall, the one who was partnered with the gorgeous ex-model, Jesse something or other.

"It's okay, Ced. We're here now," Stonesifer said, putting away his weapon.

The other two holstered their pistols as well.

"Did the boys call you?" Cedric asked.

"What boys?"

"There were some kids here yesterday afternoon. I think they must come here to drink. They were pretty bummed when they couldn't get in. Then when I yelled out to them, I must have scared them, because they took off in a hurry. I asked them to call the police, but apparently they either didn't hear me or were afraid to admit where they'd been or what they'd been about to do."

"Actually, it was Ms. Bott who suggested we might find you using the GPS on your vehicle," McNamee said.

It was only then that Cedric took a good look at him. He was someone Cedric had seen before. He looked like the young Ernest Hemingway.

"Oh! I know you! Where have we met?"

McNamee smiled. "We haven't actually met. But underneath that beard I think I recognize a person I spoke with briefly at the Toledo Museum one day this fall."

"Oh, of course."

"Cedric, this is the Special Agent in Charge of the Toledo FBI office, Spike-uh, Barton McNamee." Ray, who was blushing, looked at McNamee and said, "Sorry. I still can't get used to calling you that."

McNamee grinned, and there was a funny flip in Cedric's stomach. He could see there was something more than a merely professional relationship between the two men. But he also wanted to lick McNamee's face, or any other part of his body. He'd never had that reaction to anyone before.