Page 13 of Guess Again
When she was finished, she printed the forms and placed them in a folder on her desk. With the paperwork completed, a sense of eagerness warmed her body and converged in a swell that started near her navel and jetted downward. She stood from the desk and admired the mural she’d created of the handsome and charming Francis Bernard. Over the years she’d found photos of him from every stage of life. She had arranged the photos in chronological order, starting with Francis’s childhood and progressing through his high school days. Even back then he was beautiful.
The next grouping of photos was from his time at the University of Chicago, where he played rugby and was active in the debate forum. She admired the photos of Francis on stage, standing behind a podium and wearing a suit and tie. They were juxtaposed to photos of him in short shorts and a tight rugby shirt that caused the tingling in her navel to intensify. Photos of Francis in law school and at his corporate job followed. Finally, the right side of the wall contained photos of Francis from his trial for the murder of Henry Hall, culminating with his mug shot when he was arrested. Photos of him in an orange jumpsuit at his sentencing were the final images of the mural. The man’s entire life was in front of her. Her therapist called it an obsession. The medical term was hybristophilia. But Eugenia knew she suffered from neither obsession nor a medical condition. She was in love.
She sat down in front of her computer again and pulled up archived videos. The video she chose tonight was that of Francis Bernard speaking with the judge before his sentencing. She pressed play and Francis’s voice echoed through the dark cellar as he pleaded his case. Even his voice was beautiful.
As Eugenia watched the video of the handsome man she loved, she touched the spot on her navel that was now on fire. She slipped her hand under the waistband of her silk shorts as the video of Francis played. A soft moan rumbled from her throat.
CHAPTER 13
Nekoosa, Wisconsin Monday, July 7, 2025
IT WAS10:00P.M. WHEN THE DOORBELL RANG. EUGENIA HAD BEEN PACINGthe house, too anxious for her visit with Francis the following day to watch television or read a book or do anything other than obsess over the idea of finally seeing him. She had forced herself to leave the basement because she knew she could spend all night looking at photos and watching videos of him, and she needed a good night’s sleep so that she was fresh and alert in the morning. But she feared sleep would not come. She was simply too excited. And she dared not take a sedative for fear of oversleeping.
She had, instead, taken to cleaning the house as a way to pass time, and was on her hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor when the doorbell chimed. She stopped scrubbing and listened for a moment. The ring came again.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Eugenia said, climbing from all fours. Her jet-black hair was tied in a bun, and yellow rubber gloves covered her hands. Her face was flush with exertion when she walked to the front door.
She pulled the curtain to the side and peeked through the window. Eugenia did a double take when she saw the woman standing on her front porch. Then, she slowly opened the door. Eugenia could have been looking at herself in the mirror, or a twin sister she did not have.
“Can I help you?” Eugenia asked in a slow, confused voice.
The woman smiled. “Yes. Francis sent me.”
CHAPTER 14
Boscobel, Wisconsin Tuesday, July 8, 2025
SHE ARRIVED AT THEWISCONSINSECUREPROGRAMFACILITY AT JUSTpast noon. Located in Boscobel, Wisconsin, roughly two and a half hours from Milwaukee, it was one of the state’s highest security prisons. Her visitation time was 1:30 p.m., but she arrived early. She knew the hassles of getting through security, answering the intake questions, and dealing with the roadblocks that were intentionally set in place to discourage family, friends, and loved ones from making the trip out to the prison. But no amount of red tape could dissuade her.
She passed through the first layer of security—the questionnaire, metal detectors, and the body search, and eventually made it into the bowels of the building. It was there, in the interior of the prison, far removed from the external walls, that security cameras were strategically missing or out of service, and where the guards had free reign. In the darkened hallways they touched her inappropriately on the small of her back and even lower than that as they ushered her through doors and around corners. No laws existed in this part of the prison. If you didn’t like what happened here, the only option was to stop coming. She did nothing but smile at the overly touchy and faux-polite guards who got off on touching her. When she finally arrived at the visitation area, the guard reached over her shoulder to open the door, and she heard him inhale as he sniffed her hair. It was enough to make her skin crawl, but she accepted it because she was almost there.
Finally, she sat down at the booth. A moment later, the door on the other side of the glass opened and Francis emerged. He was even more handsome in person. His blue eyes were piercing, tiny oases in otherwise dark-rimmed orbits. He kept his hair tightly cropped, different than how he’d looked before entering prison. She credited the haircut to whatever gangs Francis had been forced to join to stay safe inside. She preferred his hair longer but would never tell him that. Perhaps soon he’d be able to grow it out again. Someday, when they were together. When they could interact with one another directly rather than through a thick plate of glass. She believed that day was not only possible, but inevitable.
Francis smiled at her when he sat down and lifted the phone to his ear. She did the same and for a long moment she simply listened to him breathe.
She’d dreamt about him last night. Her cheeks flushed now as she remembered the fantasy and what she’d allowed him to do to her.
Francis placed his open palm to the glass. She did the same.
“Eugenia?” he asked.
She nodded.
“The only way this will work is if you do everything I ask, and never deviate from the plan.”
“I haven’t yet,” she said, hypnotized by his presence.
“I haven’t asked you to do the difficult things yet.”
“I’ll do anything for you.”
CHAPTER 15
Somewhere North of Madison Wednesday, July 9, 2025
SHE WAS STILL INWISCONSIN, SOMEWHERE CLOSE TOMADISON. NOTfar from home, but a million miles away at the same time. She knew this from watching the local news. Her room—or cell, or area of confinement, or whatever the hell she was calling the place she was being held captive—had a flat screen television hanging on the wall that allowed her to pass the time by watching any channel that came in. The best reception was the local news, which was an affiliate out of Madison. The searing heat wave that had befallen the Midwest dominated the latest news cycle. But there was something new, too. The Wisconsin authorities, under direction of the new governor, had reopened the Callie Jones disappearance case. She turned up the volume to hear the latest.
The room was equipped with a couch that converted into a bed, a coffee table, and a small refrigerator stocked with water. A bathroom with a shower was located on the other side of the room, opposite the locked door she had spent hours inspecting to identify any way of opening it, or penetrating it, or in some way getting on the other side of it where freedom waited. So far she had found no weakness in the door other than the slot through which her captor sent food every day or two. She had peeked through the hatch and saw that there was a room on the other side of the door that looked like an unfinished basement.
