Freeing Lana (6 page)

“Finish your bath,” he
said, his voice trailing as he spoke, indicating he had started out of the
bathroom. She knew the hood was still connected to the collar, but with her
hands being completely free, she felt the urge to make sure. A quick check
confirmed her belief, so she allowed herself to lean back against the end of
the tub, and then finding the washcloth again, resumed washing her body.
Finding a bit of amusement at her own expense, she wondered how long it would
be before she would be allowed to wash her hair.

CHAPTER
TEN

Detective Tinkerton,
ignored most, if not all of the traffic laws as he drove across town on his way
to the home of Daniel Morrow. He had told the idiot to leave that girl alone,
and Daniel had promised him he would. He couldn’t believe how lucky Daniel was
that the call to the Wholesale Warehouse had fallen on his desk and not been
given to someone else, anyone else. He had written up his report to make it
seem like it wasn’t a big deal, most likely paranoia on the part of the
employee. Daniel owed him a huge solid for that, and he had been willing to
wait for repayment.

In his experience, it
was always good to have the idiots out there owing him a favor. It could be
beneficial in the future, not to mention downright rewarding in the right
circumstances. On occasion these favors, called in at the right time, had kept
his ass out of jail before. Sure, he doubted Daniel would ever be in a position
to be of great use, but he never knew. He had been surprised before by some
these assholes.

He made the turn onto
Kimberly Lane and slowly drove by Daniel’s house. His car was parked in the
driveway, but all the blinds were closed. He forced himself to keep driving for
a couple more blocks before pulling to the side of the road and parking. Daniel
had a privacy fence in the backyard, but if he walked up the alley, he would be
able to see into the small window at the back of the garage. It was covered by
small trees, so chances were he wouldn’t have been concerned enough to cover
it.

Daniel’s car was always
in the garage, because he didn’t trust anyone. It was always the assholes who
thought everyone else was an asshole. Daniel was no exception, so if his car
was outside, he must be up to something in there. It fucking better not
be
the girl. He would look like an idiot for not taking her
complaints more seriously before if he found Daniel chopping her up into little
pieces.

“Fucking prick,” he
muttered as he made his way down the alley.

Getting the original
case had been nothing but luck, but handling the kid, her friend, had been
orchestrated. He had seen the kid when he had been at the store. He had been
there with the girl when she told him about Daniel. Now, here he was walking
into the station, looking seven kinds of upset. Tom Tinkerton may have been a
bit on the shady side, but he hadn’t made detective by being completely stupid.
He knew immediately he didn’t need anyone else talking to this kid, so he had
grabbed him as soon as he came in and taken him to his office. Five seconds
into the conversation, he had known it had been the right thing to do. It was
about the girl, alright. The son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t shut up about her. Fucking
Daniel!

He reached the garage,
but stopped to light a cigarette before looking inside. A part of him hoped he
was wrong, but he doubted it. He couldn’t get that lucky again. He leaned
against the back of the garage and took a long drag from the Marlboro, knowing
damn well he was about to walk into a shit storm. After a second drag to
prepare himself for what he just knew he was about to see, he tossed the
cigarette on the ground and then leaning on his shoulder and rolling against
the wooden frame, he peered inside.

It was dark inside the
garage, but just enough light found its way between the leaves of the trees to
allow him to see. His heart almost leaped out of his chest when he didn’t see
what he had expected. No Daniel, no woman being chopped up into little pieces,
just the normal clutter. A lawn mower, weed eater, boxes of crap.

But then he saw it. He
hadn’t paid it any attention at first because he was expecting to see bodies,
and there had been none. But now any relief he had felt drained as he pulled
the small flashlight out of his pocket and trained it the license plate of what
looked like a Ford Ranger.

“Fucking
prick.”

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Lana cried as she
washed the plastic yellow bat. It had apparently been what he had used to
prison-rape her with the night before, and now she was being forced to wash it,
adding insult to injury, not mention shame to the pain. She tried to convince
herself that at least it had not been as large as she had first imagined, but
that hadn’t stuck. The hood had been removed earlier and she was allowed to see
for what was only the second time since she had been brought here, and this was
what she saw? Her own blood on the baseball bat had bitch slapped any possible
relief at the smaller diameter she had feared into oblivion. Any appreciation
for the food she was allowed was gone in an instant as soon as he had placed
the bat in her hands. He was going to feel it up his own ass before this was
over. Bet your cunt, he was!

She looked around the
room for anything she might be able to use as a weapon. He would be back any
second if his recent history proved of any use. But her search was as fruitless
as she had known it would be. The room was still stripped as bare as she was.
She glanced at the bat, and almost allowed herself to wish he had raped her
with a real one. That would have caved his fucking head in for sure, but the
thin piece of plastic in her hands offered her little hope as something that
would do much damage. But it just might stun him for a second if she caught him
off guard.

The door was open, but
she had heard him close the door leading out of the adjoining bedroom when he
left earlier. When he came back, he wouldn’t be able to see she wasn’t still in
the tub, or sitting obediently on its side from there. If she was standing
behind the bedroom door, she might have just enough time to smack him a good
one in the face before he saw it coming, even with her hands chained together,
and to the collar around her neck. She was certain there was enough slack in
the chain for a decent swing. After that, maybe she could make it to the front
door. And then maybe, just maybe she would be able to get it open and escape.
Sure, he would chase her, but she knew she was in a residential neighborhood,
and while her earlier cries had gone unnoticed, she doubted a handcuffed,
naked, and screaming woman running down the middle of the street would be.

She stood and got out
of the bath tub, trying to make as little noise as possible. She didn’t need
him to walk in as she was heading toward the bedroom door. That would take the
surprise out of her planned attack and surely doom it, eliminating any chance
of escape as well. She slowly peeked around the bathroom door and searched the
bedroom for any sign of him. He had slipped up on her before, and this would be
a most inopportune moment for that to happen again. But there was no sign of
him. She began to step into the bedroom, but stopped just short. The carpet, he
might see her wet front prints on the carpet. Shit. She quickly grabbed the
towel from the sink and dried her feet. Then, as a second thought, she dried
the handle of the bat and her hands as best she could while still trying to be
quick.

Hurry,
goddamn it, fucking hurry!

She
was
hurrying, but at the same time,
trying to make certain she didn’t miss anything. She knew she realistically
held the same chance of escaping as a snowball had of escaping hell, but she
needed to give herself as good a chance as possible, no matter how improbable
success seemed.

Feet now dried, and her
hands wrenched around the plastic bat, she eased across the carpeted floor
toward the door she hoped would lead to freedom. Still two feet shy however, a
thought occurred to her. What if the door was unlocked? He had gotten a bit
more trusting since she had “thanked” him for the food by fingering herself
while he fed her. Maybe he had gotten sloppy, maybe…

Lana was quickly
snapped back to the reality of the situation before she had a chance to indulge
herself in the fantasy too far, for just as she reached for the handle to see
if it was indeed unlocked, she heard the familiar sound of the key being
inserted into the lock, mere inches away on the other side of the door. She
quickly threw herself toward the wall where she would be behind the door when
it opened, almost causing herself to crash against into the sheetrock, which
would undoubtedly have given her ruse away. Fuck! That was close.

She hadn’t previously
believed it possible, but she tightened her grip on the bat further as she
pulled it behind her shoulder, doing her best Babe Ruth impression to get the
most out of her impending swing for the proverbial fences. She intended to make
the Sultan of Swat himself proud as fuck with one swing.

Less than two seconds,
though it felt to Lana like an eternity, after she had almost ruined the whole
thing and slammed into the wall, the lock made a clunking sound and the door
swung open in front of her. She had just enough time to see the side of his
face before the bat connected squarely, smashing his nose and sending blood
splattering against the far wall. He tried to scream out in pain, but a second
homerun swing crashed the bat into his mouth, stifling his protest. The
Whiffle-Ball bat was small and light, but the plastic was a bit more solid than
other kids’ bats, even if only a little. And while it would have caved in on
itself against a real baseball, it proved to be more durable than his nose and
lips.

As his hands
instinctively went to his face, Lana stepped around the door hoping to get past
him and out of the room, but he was still in the doorway, blocking her path.
Desperation, mixed with fear and rage raised her leg without any prompting and
her shin connected squarely with his crotch, sending him to his knees before
rolling onto his side. Lana stepped beside him and started for the front door
she could now see across the cluttered living room. But as she reached for her
second step, a longer stride which would have transcended into a full blown sprint
for the door, she felt his hand wrap around her ankle. His grip was not enough
to stop her momentum and hold her in place, but he managed to hold onto her
just long enough to cause her to stumble. She went headlong into the back of
the couch.

As she clambered back
to her knees, she glanced over shoulder in time to see him crawling toward her.
She instinctively rolled onto her back and just as he reached for her again,
slammed the heel of her foot into his nose again and knew immediately with some
satisfaction that if it hadn’t been broken before, it was now. He had been on
his hands and knees as he approached her, but the force of the blow sent him
backward, causing him to fold over his own legs and landed his shoulders on his
own heels, his back arched in a painful looking position. Lana quickly rolled
back onto her knees and regained her feet.

She expertly avoided
the remainder of the furniture and crossed the room in what should have been
considered record time, taking notice of the three deadbolts as she approached
the door. She slammed hard into it, not wanting to slow her pace, with one hand
and the attached shoulder stopping her momentum with a thud as the other
grabbed the first lock and turned it violently to the unlocked position. As
both hands found their way to the two remaining locks, an explosion of pain
erupted from her left calf, putting her back on the floor. He had thrown
something at her, and as she rolled to stand, again reaching for the locks, she
had just enough time to see it had been a small, but obviously heavy metal
lamp, its glass bulb now shattered on the floor beside it.

She tried to stand, but
her leg screamed at her when she tried to put her weight on it and she
collapsed to the floor again. Shifting her weight to the other leg, and using
the door handle for leverage, she pulled herself back up, knowing the lamp had
caused some serious damage. Uncaring, she leaned against the door to support
her weight and reached for the locks again.

But just as she turned
the tumblers, his hand wrapped around her hair and she was pulled backward,
feet leaving the floor and hitting the door painfully. Her shoulders and the
back of her head hit the floor hard. The words, “fucking whore” floated
somewhere in the air above her, mixing with her own scream of pain as she
reverse head-butted the carpet, causing the adrenaline to flood out of her
almost instantly. Had he really called her a whore?
Really?

Lana soon became aware
of the pain in her scalp as he dragged her across the floor, looking like a
caveman looking for a little action. Still bent over some from the blow to his
groin, he looked the part more than not. As they crossed the threshold into the
bedroom again, she regained her fight, never wanting to set foot in the room
again, she began clawing at his arm in an attempt to free herself from his
grip. She brought blood and found herself momentarily free from his hand, but
as she tried to get up, he hit her across the side of her cheek, sending her
down violently into a heap. She was battered and bleeding with very little
fight left in her.