I was washing clay off my hands when the van pulled into Kiln Yard.
It was past nine, and most of the studios were dark.
Bess came around the corner with a man's hand locked around her arm.
She rented the studio under mine. She always said hi to me in the stairwell.
Bess: Let go. I mean it, let go.
He shoved her into the side of the van. Her head hit the metal with a sound I felt in my teeth.
Coyle: Get in the fucking van, you stupid bitch.
She made a noise I have never heard a person make.
I grabbed my camera off the table. My hands were wet and shaking and I almost dropped it.
I shot through the glass. One. Two.
I don't know why. It felt like the only thing I could do from up there.
He slapped her. Full hand, full weight, and her nose started bleeding right away.
Coyle: Scream again and I'll cut your tongue out. Do you hear me?
Bess: Please. I'll do anything.
I kept shooting. The shutter clicked, and his head came up.
He looked straight at me through the window.
I couldn't make myself move.
He wasn't scared. That was the worst part. He looked at me like I was a chore.
Coyle: I see you, camera girl.
Coyle: You're a dead woman. Remember I said it.
He threw Bess in and slammed the door, and the van rolled out of the yard with its lights off.
Her red scarf was still on the ground where she'd been standing.
Then it was just me, breathing too loud in the quiet.
I called the police with clay still on my fingers. It rang a long time.
The woman who answered was calm. She asked for the plate, the street, my name.
My voice came out small and wrong, like it belonged to someone else.
I was still standing there. That was the thing I couldn't get around.
Bess was gone and I was still in my studio with my camera in my hands.
It felt like a debt I'd never asked for.
I couldn't stay in that room. I went out into the yard with the phone at my ear.
A man was standing by the gate, watching the road the van had taken.
Black jacket. Tall. He turned like he had all night.
Gideon: Was that your voice I heard, or the phone?
Faye: A man took Bess. I have a photo of him.
My teeth were chattering so hard the words came out in pieces.
He took the phone out of my hand. His fingers were warm and rough with old scars.
He stood close enough that I could smell soap and cold air on him, and my stupid body went warm.
I was terrified and shaking and part of me wanted to lean into him anyway. I hated that part.
He looked at the picture of Bess bleeding for a long time.
Gideon: Good. You got his face.
Faye: Who are you?
Gideon: Nobody. Stay on the line.
He stayed until the squad car came. I don't remember him leaving.
The officer was kind and tired. He took my phone and sent the photo to himself.
Faye: That's her face. That's the man.
He wrote it down. He didn't say they'd find her tonight.
He asked if I had someone to sit with. I said yes.
I sat on my bed with the lights on and my shoes still tied.
Everyone said I did the right thing. I know I did.
But he saw my face. He said I was dead, and I believed him.
That promise was still in the room with me at three in the morning.
A car went past the yard slow. Then it went past again.
I turned off every light and sat on the floor with my camera in my lap.