I hit play and the messages started.“Russ where are you.”“Why did you file divorce?”“I need to talk to you.”“Call me back as soon as you...get this.”The messages went on and on until the tape was full.When I looked at my cell, I found numerous text messages and voicemails. I read a few texts, and listened to some voicemails, but deleted the rest. Maria watched me with concern on her face.About an hour or two after we’d settled in, the phone rang.“Hello,” I answered.“Where the fuck have you been!. He lay on his back, the hard mattress that had supported hundreds, if not thousands of male bodies over the years lumpy and uncomfortable. He closed his eyes and tried to lose himself, as he had done every night since his capture eight months ago, in fantasies of Rachel and himself. Fantasies where they were in the Florida Keys, swimming together, the warm silky water bathing his skin, the droplets running down her neck to collect in the small hollow at the base of her throat. In his mind he. More

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