Nine

They wanted to wait until Alex came back from the kitchen, which was fair enough. This concerned him too. He carried a red mug by the handle, treading carefully so as not to spill a drop onto the floor.

So, he’s houseproud — noted.

I could tell a lot from someone by their actions. The way they respected their living space and the people around them.

“Here, I hope I’ve made it right,” Alex handed me a mug of steaming hot tea then put a coaster onto the coffee table in front of me.

I took in every detail, making a mental note of their behavior patterns. It would help me to figure out what made them tick. After inspecting the tea, I risked a sip. It wasn’t too milky, and it wasn’t too strong . . . it won my seal of approval. We were off to an impressive start.

Alex watched me, cringing to see whether the drink was to my liking. He wanted to impress me, but why would he care? Kidnappers were supposed to be wretched, horrid, despicable human beings with agendas. They don’t offer their hos