Turning his attention to the intruder currently inspecting the living room furniture, Sam tried to regulate his heartbeat. "What do you want Vicky?"

The brunette's head snapped up at him. "You Sam. It's always been you."

She took a step toward him, the gun swaying at her side. Sam tried to recoil further but his back was already pressed against the door. Instead, he slid to the side, leaving the security of the wall and headed for the kitchen.

Scrambling, he tried to make his brain work, formulate a plan. Ali would be home any moment. He had to protect her from Vicky. If Ali walked in right now Vicky was likely to use the weapon she was wildly waving around. The thought of Ali getting caught in the crossfire made it hard for Sam to breathe again. Clenching his hand into a fist he forced himself to concentrate. Refute Vicky or play along?

Maybe if he did what she wanted, Vicky would let her guard down and he could get the gun away from the madwoman. The kitchen had knives, pans, something he could defend himself with. He searched for a way to occupy Vicky's attention until he found a way to disarm her. What he came up with made his skin crawl.

"Vicky," he tried to keep the vitriol out of his voice, "I did miss you." The words felt like razor blades in his throat. He forced himself to continue. "I knew you'd come for me."

"Oh Sammy, I told them they were wrong." She cocked her head to the side like a puppy dog begging its owner for affection. "We're meant to be together."

Taking a few more steps, his hand hit the hard surface of the countertop on the kitchen island. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the block of knives at the far end. Could he make it there? And then do what? Throw them at Vicky? No, he needed another option.

He nodded at her words, only half listening as he inched further into the kitchen.

"They don't understand. Don't get what we have."

A few more steps. Another quick glance behind him. Beside the knives sat a frying pan.

A lifetime ago, otherwise known as this morning, he and Ali had discussed having a quiet evening at home tonight. It included opening a bottle of their favourite wine and a home-cooked meal, something they had missed during their time in California. Sam had pulled the pan out in preparation for making his Moroccan Shrimp dish.

Now he considered using it for a quite different purpose. Maybe he could swat the gun out of Vicky's hand.

"You and I, we...we've had our ups and downs." She followed Sam's trajectory, a few feet away, the gun moving in jerks with her speech. "But we always come back to each other."

"Yes," A few more steps and the pan would be within reach. Once there he had to get Vicky within range. Pushing the bile forming in his throat down he held his arms open towards her, ensuring his left hand was near the metal handle sticking out like a lifeline. "They were wrong."

A look of delight replaced the scowl on her face and the gun started to drop. It was working. She inched closer. To keep up the pretense, Sam smiled at her.

It was a mistake. The expression on Vicky's face fell and she repositioned her grip on the gun, raising and aiming it again at his chest. "You will love me, Sam. You'll see." Shaking her head, Vicky circled to the other side of the island, out of the kitchen, keeping the pistol trained on him. "We just need time together."

He tried to salvage the situation, "But I do- "

"Don't lie to me!" she screamed. "No more lies." The gun wobbled in her hand. Sam had to resist the urge to fall to the floor and hide. Instead, he froze in place, not knowing what to say or do next.

Vicky took a deep breath and then continued again in her little girl voice. "Sammy, trust me. We're going to go away for a while. We need time together. Just you and me. Like it used to be."

This was her plan? She was kidnapping him? "I ... I can't leave Vicky. People will look for me."

"No, they won't silly. That's why you'll write a note." She instructed him like she was talking to a five-year-old who didn't understand the concept of having to finish their peas before they can go play. "They'll believe it. You've done it before."

A cold chill passed over Sam. She was right. He had run away before, disappeared without a trace. He'd started a new life in California without his name, with nothing but a few dollars in his pocket. His family would believe it.

Not Ali. No. She'd never accept the ruse. Nothing he could ever say would convince the woman who loved him he was leaving her. The thought gave him strength. Ali would look for him, never give up.

Sam swallowed. It was not going to come to that. There had to be an opportunity to stop Vicky before they got far. She would let her guard down. What was important now was getting Vicky out of this apartment before Ali got here. Keeping Ali safe and away from Vicky was the priority. Vicky might not hurt him, but he had no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to vent her frustrations on his fiancée.

Looking from the gun to Vicky's wild eyes, steel settled in Sam's veins. "I'll do whatever you ask."

Ten minutes later Sam was scribbling a fake goodbye letter after throwing together an overnight bag. It contained a mishmash of items tossed in without thought. He was never going to use it; it was only part of the ploy to appease Vicky.

"Time to go," announced Vicky.

"Just finishing the note." Sam had a thought. "Where are we going, Vicky?"

"Wouldn't you like to know..."

Her sing-song tone made Sam want to vomit. He ignored it and pressed his point. "Actually, yes I would."

"I'll give you a hint." Vicky leaned forward and stage whispered across the still too wide gap between them. "It starts with a three-hour tour."

So, they were getting on a boat. The dated reference to the theme song of Gilligan's Island was a lame throwback to their days in high school when they'd skip class and spend the afternoon drinking and watching old tv shows. Adding a line about sailing off into the sunset to the hastily written goodbye note, Sam hoped whoever read it would get the hint.

Putting down the pen beside his abandoned phone, he turned towards the deranged woman who had once been his friend. "All done."

Vicky shook her gun in the direction of the foyer, "After you, my love."

Gritting his teeth at the use of his private name for Ali and Ali alone, Sam placed a hand on the doorknob. Saying a silent prayer again that Ali was not on the other side, he swung the door open.

With Vicky following behind him, Sam stepped out onto the marble floor in the hall. Looking down the corridor, he saw someone stepping off the elevator. Heart thumping in his chest he scrambled for some way to warn them.

"Vicky, do you really need the gun?" He barked a little too loudly. He hoped it was enough.