By Ivana Hruba
Whilst a abducted woman's husband refuses to pay her ransom, she plots revenge with the aid of her reluctant kidnapper. Discovering her husband's plan to betray her, she frames him for her personal "murder," forcing her young kidnapper into an unexpected moral difficulty that would switch him forever. This smart and fast moving mystery blends pathos with trickery and intrigue, drawing the reader into the non-public global of a susceptible 15-year-old boy who believes himself to be the savior and protector of a wronged lady.
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Additional info for A Decent Ransom: A Story of a Kidnapping Gone Right
Of course, I did everything to ease his torment, but somewhere between the headache tablets and the warm foot-soak, he remembered we didn’t get the money and his temperature began to rise. I’m gonna killa, Kenny whispered from underneath the wet tea towel, which I had folded over his face to soothe him. Of course, you will, I murmured, gently stroking his brow. Kenny made a gesture as if to get up but he couldn’t manage it. Sinking back onto the cushions, he moaned in a weak, tired voice and I sensed that he was receptive.
Looking at me as if he expected a show of appreciation, he began to pick his teeth with a toothpick. I tried to feel happy, but I could not entirely share his mood because something was niggling at me. Eventually, I ventured to voice that niggle. Kenny, I murmured as I topped up his tea. What about her? Whadabouda? Kenny roared, and I only just managed to move the hot jug out of the way before he jumped up. Cuffing the air in front of me, he spat sideways and shouted that I should mind my own business.
His torso was square. His legs made a perfect letter o. His face was a large flat oval and he had a wide triangular nose, big round nostrils, and precise rectangular teeth protruding from his slightly opened mouth. His lips were thin, pale lines, but his teeth were unpleasantly colorful. Some were black, some yellow, some reddish brown. The man looked at me. Betraying not the slightest glimmer of thought in his cold, deep-set eyes, he stared me down and I began to tremble. Without blinking, the man slowly raised his arm and touched the wide brim of his sombrero, pulling the hat steadily lower until all that could be seen of his face was his massive pockmarked jaw, jutting out like a block of chipped granite.
A Decent Ransom: A Story of a Kidnapping Gone Right by Ivana Hruba