My pounding head woke me. I was in the kitchen area of the hotel suite tied to a straight back chair. I couldn't see color, first just shadows, then only black and white. It wasn't until my eyes fell on her back that the ink colors came into view. Wings. Blue-shaded feathers lined in black spread across her bare shoulders with strands of roses and pinks.

"You are an angel," I mumbled.

She turned, revealing a concerned smile. Her black halter top reached down to the top of her black stretch pants and tied behind her neck. The tips of her wings reached around to the front of her shoulders and would disappear if she raised her arms.

"How's your head? He hit you hard." she said, reaching for my skull. I cringed as she touched the sore spot. "You bled a lot, but that's what they say about head wounds."

"Who hit me?"

"My dad. Detective Friday," she said proudly.

"I don't...believe this. Where is he?"

"They both went to get something to eat."

"They left me here to go eat?"

"They're going to kill you. They just don't know how. Or how they're going to get you out of here."

"You do whatever your father tells you?"

"Pretty much."

"Hey, I don't know your name."

"Prudence. My father was a Beatles fan. 'Dear Prudence', you know the song?"

"Yeah, I know the song."

"Well, most people my age don't. As a matter of fact, a lot of times they don't know who the Beatles are."

"Yeah?" I asked, grabbing my head in pain. She nodded, grabbed a Molson out of the fridge, and flipped the cap off with a church key. "So you going to let your father kill me?"

She held the lip of the bottle to mine and tilted it. I took a big sip. As I finished swallowing I asked again, "You think you could do that? Let him kill me?"

She shrugged, "Hey, it's not my deal."

"So you really don't give a shit about anything."

"I do."

"But not about murder."

"Look, he's my dad, and he's a cop. What am I supposed to do? If I screw him, he'll screw me back."

"He'll be in jail."

"Please don't say that. He said you were trying to kill him but they didn't have enough evidence."

"And you believe THAT?"

"I got to go." She grabbed a light black jacket and ran out the door.

Quickly, I looked around. The phone was in the other room by the couch. I started hopping. Blood rushed to my head causing more pain, but I struggled on. As I went between the kitchen and sitting area, I knocked into the wall and fell over. I wanted to scream, but kept quiet. I could see by the blood on the floor that my head had started bleeding again.

"What the...?" Friday's voice echoed. I looked up and he stared straight down on me. "Where's Prudence?"

"I don't know."

"Where the hell is my daughter!?" He said with a swift kick to my gut. I screamed loudly. He pulled the revolver out from within his jacket.