I see the man put something into the woman’s drink when I leave the restroom and it pisses me right off.

I’m on the other side of the bar. She’s dressed for a night out in a white, fluffy sweater and combing her fingers through her dark hair, smiling up at a tall man in a suit. This is a college bar with the campus right down the street, so the suit’s a little out of place. His tie is black. When the woman looks at the bartender, the tall man taps a powder from a tiny package into her glass.

I look around but nobody else seems to have seen anything and my view is soon blocked by the other patrons milling around. It’s a Friday, after all, and people are out.

I catch Nick’s eye and gesture for him to come here.

He sees me and smiles.

I shake my head and point to the bar. At the asshole wannabe rapist.

“Join. Me. At. The. Bar,” I mouth to him.

He must think I’m buying another round because he waves me off with a big grin. We’ve been talking to those couple of nursing students for a little while. He's very hopeful. I'm still skeptical and although the ladies have been nice, I don't get the feeling it's really going anywhere. Especially not now.

I sigh. There’s nothing for it. I’ll have to do this on my own, so I lower my head, set my jaw, and move toward the bar.

By the time I’ve slalomed through the bearded hipsters and their dates though, the tall man and the woman in the sweater are gone.

I double check, but they’re not there and I don’t see them at any of the tables.

I go outside.

It’s a late October evening and the air is cool. My jacket's back at the table with Nick and the nursing students. Any colder and I’ll be able to see my breath.

The bar is situated on the side of a hill nestled between other businesses that closed hours ago. Two flights of stairs lead down to the street which passes below me. There are people on the sidewalks, but no tall man and sweatered woman.

On the other side of the street, more stairs lead down into a park. I catch a flash of white between two other figures moving down a paved path, deeper into the park.

I dart across the street to get a better look and, yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s her. They’ve put a coat on her, but as she stumbles I can see the fluffy sweater. The tall man catches her and keeps her from falling. On the brunette’s other side is someone new. A woman helps steady her as they move farther into the park.

Yeah, this is not good. Time for the police.

But when I reach for my phone, I don’t find it. I must’ve left it in the bathroom at the bar. I sometimes need a little space, you know? The bathroom is a good spot. I read a little news, check my social media, decompress. Sometimes I screw up and leave it in the stall and have to go back to get it. It happens more often than I like to admit. Like right fucking now.

Obviously, I can’t go get it. God knows what these two are up to. I mean, it was bad enough when it was just the one man, but now that there’s two of them involved, well, that just seems odd to me.

I don’t shout either. That doesn’t seem like a good idea. By now, she’s probably gotten a good look at her kidnappers’ faces, if that’s what they are. For all I know, if there’s any sign they’ve been seen they’ll knife her and scatter into the night.

So, not having a better idea, I hurry down the stairs after them.

There are streetlights in the park and the three of them stick to the walkways. I’m catching up to them, keeping to the tree line to stay out of sight. Neither the man nor his accomplice look around much, but they do check behind them a little. I figure they’re either really good at this and know how not to look suspicious, or they’re brand new and overconfident.

I can hear them talking but I’m not close enough to hear what they’re saying. The female kidnapper has short hair that’s burnished auburn in the light of the lamp overhead. She’s wearing a coat that’s a little longer than the dark skirt.

She turns and I freeze because I’m pretty sure she’s looking right at me even though I'm pressed against a tree. I don't see how she could tell I was there unless the leaves under my feet gave me away. They don’t stop though and the drugged woman trips again and, this time, she starts the slow slide to the ground. The tall man stoops, wraps an arm around her waist, and hauls her back up to her feet, basically carrying her. This distracts his friend from me as she loops her victim’s arm over her shoulder, and they're off again, looking like a couple of friends helping a third that’s had way too much to drink.

Maybe if the lady had spotted me for sure they’d have done something else, but I have no idea what. I have no idea. Both kidnappers’ coats are long. They could have shotguns or any number of weapons under there. I need to be more careful.

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It’s a dark night and getting colder but I keep moving so I'm warm enough, and it’s not hard to keep them in my sights while I keep out of theirs. There’s something deeply wrong here. I have a feeling that if I screw this up, that woman’s dead. And maybe me too.

I decided a long time ago that there were certain things I just wouldn’t allow to happen in my presence. I know how that might sound. Like a self-important, righteous idiot, right? Look, when I was a kid I was at the zoo with some friends. I saw a guy carrying a kid and running. He ran right past me. There was a moment when I considered stepping in front of the guy and asking him what was going on, but I hesitated and he ran right past. The screaming mother came next, and then the father, holding his daughter close, her chubby face smeared with chocolate ice cream, as he sped after his wife, and the look on mom and dad’s faces has haunted me ever since.

I never heard anything more about what happened that day at the zoo. We didn’t see any clusters of cops or flashing lights. There was nothing in the news and never has been. Nobody knew anything about it at school. Eventually, I resigned myself to the fact that I was never going to know. I was maybe twelve at the time and I know that guy, whoever he was, probably would’ve just run me down, but I didn’t do anything.

Never again.

It’s gotten me into trouble a few times since then. A couple of fights. Nothing serious. But more often than not, people don’t really know what to do when you confront them. They always seem a little confused, then a lot confused, then angry and confused which is when I can normally see them make the choice. I've put myself in the way and they’ve either got to relent or go through me. Most quit whatever it was they were doing and go away.

I’m six foot nothing and wiry, and Nick will tell you that the only time I’m at all frightening is when I do things like that. He says I stand there ready, looking like I'd punch Godzilla right in the mouth, and that's intimidating. He says it's a little scary to face down a guy who's willing to go all out on anybody. He's only seen me do it once when a couple of football players for the university were bothering a waitress at this restaurant we go to. I don't invite people to fight or anything. That generally escalates things. I just tell them to stop, politely. I insist. That gets my meaning across.

So, for whatever reason, just like that time with the football players, most people decide to cut it out and not have to deal with me. Yeah, I’ve been lectured by friends, Nick included, and a couple of times by police who seem to understand. I always tell them that I don’t go looking for trouble, but that sometimes somebody needs someone to step in right now. I can’t sit back and watch something wrong happen in front of me. I can’t. A couple of times it’s earned me some stitches, and once Nick had to bail me out of the county jail, but so far, I’ve been lucky.

I wonder how this is going to work out this time. I wonder if this time these fucks will be armed. I figure kidnappers are normally armed, right?

I’m going to be really careful.

We get to the other end of the park and there’s an allotment of houses above us on top of the hill. There are lights here too, but the backyards of the houses facing us are darker than the park. The kidnapped woman's feet are no longer moving, the tips of her pumps dragging through the grass as the two evil fucks take her up into the side yard of one of the houses. I move a little faster because, yep, they’ve come to a side door, opened it, and gone inside. It's the only place they could've gone.

The door’s ajar. When I peek in, I see the glint of chrome and glass. It’s a two-car garage. A sedan and a minivan are parked side by side, and the garage door is closed. The only other way out is the door to the house.

I creep around the vehicles, hoping nothing is laying around to trip over, to try the knob. It turns, unlocked. Trying not to make any noise, I open it slowly and peer inside.

It’s a kitchen. The lights are on, shining from a fancy chandelier hung over a table in a small eating area on the other side of a counter. It’s bright and I have to blink while my eyes adjust.

The room is empty and clean. No dishes left out anywhere and everything is in its place. There’s a door to my left, but it’s closed. I look around for a phone, thinking that maybe there’s a handset I could take back into the garage and call nine-one-one, but there’s nothing.

I hear voices but they’re muffled, like they’re in another room or behind a door.

I try the door to my left. I don't think they're in there, but it's best to make sure. There are stairs leading down into the basement but they're dark, and for a moment I get the impression of a yawning throat threatening to swallow me into darkness. I shake it off and listen. Nothing. I leave the door open. If I have to run, I’ll try to make for the garage instead. The car and the van will give me cover, but there’s no harm in leaving a false trail, right?

I move into the dining area and peek around the corner. It’s a living room. There’s an overstuffed couch and an easy chair arranged in front of a humongous television hung on the wall. On the far side of the room is another door, slightly open, with light spilling around its edges. There’s the sound of a man’s voice coming from the other side.

I get to the door and listen.

“I’ll check the street,” says the man.

“I’ll make the call,” says the woman. “Then we’ll go down and get the others.”

There’s nothing more.

Others? Other what? Kidnappers? Victims?

I open the door just enough to look through. There’s a short hallway that opens into a larger room. The woman in the sweater is lying on the floor not three feet away from me.

I duck in, collect her under her arms, and pull her through. The door starts to close behind us and I worry it’ll make a noise when it shuts. I snatch a throw pillow from the couch and use it to prop it open.

The woman in the sweater is out cold.

Others.

What if there are other victims inside?

I can’t leave this woman here, but I can’t leave without making sure there’s nobody else in danger. I’d never be able to forgive myself.

I check the woman’s pockets and find her cell phone. I hold it up to her face to unlock it and then dial nine-one-one. I leave it on the coffee table by her head and go back through the door, closing it after me this time, just as I hear the operator come on and ask about the emergency.

I stalk back down the hallway and poke my head into the living room. Huh. Another living room is odd, but hey, it takes all kinds.

The place is empty.

The floor plan here is remarkably like the other. From where I am I can make out part of a chandelier and the chairs around a table almost identical to the one I saw when I first came in the house.

I see movement from that way, something big. A man? But then there’s a terrific impact in my stomach and I’m on the ground kneeling. My breath won’t come.

I’m staring at two large dress shoes and then, walking in from the right, a pair of black heels.

I’ve been punched in the stomach.

I’m caught.