I watched the monitors. It was a little boring, but it was better than what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tried to get free. To fill some of my time, I drew a map of where I was being held and wrote descriptions and names for the men who had me. I wrote down all the relevant information I could think of. After a while, I saw several cars and motorcycles pull up in front of the shop.
A man got off one of the motorcycles, turned away from the camera, and took off his helmet. He started directing other men around, then came into the shop. He was always angled in such a way that I couldn’t see his face, until he was standing at the counter. The camera behind it caught him perfectly.
It was Keith Weston. I realized that Kenneth looked like Keith for a reason and not because my brain was bei
