Page 84 of Trust

She ties her hair up, determined, accepting the challenge.

“All right, when anything gets too much, you tap out. Like this.” With the palm of my hand I tap her upper arm twice. She nods.

I don’t want to repeat yesterday. We start with stretching and practicing defensive stances. Instead of breaking out of holds, I show her how to do them herself. Where to hold and what to watch out for, how to use her weight for impact.

Only when I’m certain she’s ready, do I move behind her and twist her arm into a controlled hold, the same one I used outside the police station. I don’t go hard on her just yet. I want to ease her in. This is not a stress test, and it’s not supposed to feel like one.

“This is how I got you in the van. You remember?”

She stiffens. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Good. Wrist twist. Shoulder pressure. Break it.”

She tries.

I meet her with resistance without overwhelming her. I guide her body through the turn, slipping her elbow, and rotating her arm free.

It takes a few tries. Then she nails it.

Her eyes light up.

“You did it,” I say, letting the pride show.

“You let me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” I smirk.

We keep going. She practices slipping out of chokeholds until she’s comfortable with them, until I’m confident yesterday’s situation won’t repeat itself.

“Wanna try escape tactics mixed with a kid’s game?”

Sara stops moving and tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about hide-and-seek. You hide, I find you. Once I do, I’ll take you back to the cabin and you can try anything you want to prevent that.”

“So I get to hurt you without consequences?” she smirks.

“Oh, there’ll always be consequences.” The threat is playful and she smiles. “You get one minute. You run and you hide. If I need more than thirty minutes to find you, you win.”

“What do I get for winning?” Funny how she actually thinks she can beat me. “The last time you didn’t find me at all,” she gloats.

“Maybe I didn’t put in enough effort.”

She pouts and squeezes her eyes shut, but isn’t really insulted. “Go inside first, then I’ll run, no cheating,” she demands.

“You think you get to bargain when it’s serious?”

“Well, since this is training for you...” She crosses her arms, chin lifted.

I huff, my ego nagged by the memory of her neck-breaking escape and my own stupidity. Nothing like that will ever happen again. Of this, I am sure.

We stand there working out the rules for the chase game. Just another morning at the cabin.

She doesn’t move until I close the door behind me, so I don’t know which direction she’ll choose. I count down from sixty.

Back outside, there’s no trace of her. When she got away on that second day, there was no hint of her on the cameras along the path. That’s the only way to come here by car. Around the cabin, there’s surveillance. She knows that, so there’s no way she stayed around here. I check the recordings, but they give nothing away. She must have gone through the thicket. I stand in the middle of the clearing but hear nothing. Dense forest. It’s where I’d go. She’s smart enough to think the same. Every other minute I stop to listen closely, for footsteps, for her breathing, but it’s just the usual sounds: the faint lap of water against the lake’s shore, insects humming, the far-off pop of a pinecone hitting the ground.

I remember the stone she tossed to lead me off track and wonder if she’ll try the same trick again. It excites me that she makes me work for it.