Deadly Little Lies by Jeanne Adams

bananas, an out-of-place plastic baggie full of bacon, and to his great surprise, ajar of Nutella.
    Carrie looked from the provisions to him and back again. “That’s a strange breakfast. Strange provisions.” A flash of fear crossed her face, but she showed no other sign of concern as she said, “Why do you think they’re leaving?”
    He considered it as they advanced on the cache of food. “Perhaps to get Niko. Perhaps to contact someone regarding ransom.” He looked around the cell, strange as it was, and then up at the locked, metal grate. There would be no escape for them, not from this hole. “Either way, these aren’t regular kidnappers. They’re not prepared for us to be here for a long time, nor are they thinking too far ahead.” He didn’t want to go into the ramifications of that, so he asked, “Do you still have your watch? They took mine at some point.”
    â€œWell, it was a Rolex,” she said, smiling at him. “Easily hocked.”
    â€œYes, too tempting, I guess.” He hesitated. Should he tell her the watch had held a locator?
    â€œLook at it this way,” she added. “One quick way for Gates to find you, if it turns up in a pawnshop in the States.”
    â€œGood thought, since it does have a location device built into it,” Dav said, making his decision. He wanted to hit something, knowing it had been taken. How could anyone have known it had the fail-safe locator in it?
    This was a problem. As cunning and snakelike as Niko was, he wasn’t into tech. He’d either hired that kind of smarts or... or what, he didn’t know. Either way, it made a grim situation even more desperate. Gates would have no way to know anything about where they were or even what direction they’d gone. “However,” he said, softly, “without it we’re a needle in a...” He paused, searching for the phrase he wanted. “A worldwide haystack.”
    â€œI know,” she said, glancing away. “But maybe it will lead him to something. Some conclusion that will help. If he finds it.”
    â€œOh, he will.” Of that, Dav was sure. Gates would be on the locator like a stooping hawk. Hopefully it would yield something that would direct him their way.
    â€œIt’s nine A.M. , Pacific time,” she said, bringing him back to the original question as she handed him an egg. “And I’m an optimist. We’ll hope, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    They pulled the odd assortment of food closer to their sitting area and began peeling the eggs. “Hang on a second,” Carrie said, digging into her purse. “I was just wishing I could wash my hands, and I remembered this.” With a “ta-da” she pulled a small bottle of waterless hand soap from her purse. “It won’t last us long in this situation, but hey, we can pretend we’re somewhat civilized.”
    Laughing, he used the gel sparingly, then went back to peeling the eggs. “I don’t know much about food,” he admitted, scanning the pile before them. “I’m thinking we should eat anything that would spoil, first. I guess the bacon would be okay for a day or so.”
    â€œIf the sandwiches have mayonnaise on them, we’ll need to eat them. Mustard would keep okay, I think, but the bread will be stale pretty quick.”
    â€œCrackers too,” he said. “I could never keep crackers fresh, back in my starving student stage,” he said idly, turning the box to look for an expiration date. He slipped a finger under the cardboard and opened it to find the interior waxed bag with crackers still sealed.
    â€œI can’t picture you as a starving student, somehow,” Carrie said, glancing his way. “You’ve always seemed so polished, so urbane. So,” she hesitated, then added, “rich.”
    â€œUrbane?” That was an English word he’d not come on before.