Pole Dance (38 page)

"Fiona?" I whispered when my eyes finally fell on her. She was holding the large, down-filled parka with the aviator sunglasses parked in the bowl of the baseball cap that I could see had brown hair glued to its rim. She was sitting calmly in one of those white plastic outdoor chairs that she had pulled up against the small unmade mattress that I was on.

"Yep, slut. It's me. Surprise, surprise!" Fiona sat there, clutching her bundle with a funny look on her face. When I zeroed in on it I could see that her expression was mix of tortured triumph and her eyes held a light, an unnatural gleam. I felt my breath bursting in and out of my lungs as every muscle in my body tensed by my involuntary 'fight or flight' reaction. Since I could do neither, my body began to shake uncontrollably.

"Why am I here?" I heard myself whimper. I glanced up to see what was holding my arms and found they were in handcuffs, the cuffs chained to the opener, the lever of the window above my head. I shook my arms and flexed to see how much give there was in the cuffs.

"Uh, uh, uh…" Fiona admonished me, raising a latex gloved finger and waggling it back and forth. "You can't get loose this time, Cathy. I made sure of it. Although, I gotta tell you, you are a lot fucking fatter than you look. I nearly threw my back out getting you in here."

I watched as she dumped the bundle of clothes on the floor behind her and she straightened the gloves on her hands before pulling a small bag into her lap. I broke out in a cold sweat when she turned back to me.

"Tried to warn you, but you wouldn't stay away, would you?" she said calmly as she pulled out a box cutter, a hank of what looked like a child's jump rope and a piece of broom handle and methodically lined them up on the bed. "Oops! Almost forgot," she exclaimed and half-rose in her chair to pull a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket and began to fold it again and again, making it smaller and smaller.

"Wh-Where are we?" I asked hoping to distract her, but I could barely get the words out through my trembling lips.

"Same place as the others. In the storage part in back of the trailer park. But you'll be found behind a dumpster just like the others. Think of it as taking out the trash. I do."

I couldn't think clearly. I stared at Fiona but didn't really see her as I was trying to come up with a way, any freaking way to distract her from what she seemed hell bent on doing, whatever that might be. And my mind flashed on a couple of possibilities, and they were not good. Really not good.

"So, you piece of teeny-bopper pussy, you ready to die?" she asked calmly as she caressed each of the items she placed on the bed. And my heart frantically picked up its beat at her words.

"You're ca-crazy," I whispered my brain just catching up to what my body had already realized. OhmyGod, OhmyGod, OhmyGod…

"Just a matter of opinion, slut. And since your opinions won't count for very much longer, I'll let that one pass."

I watched as she picked up the frayed hank of rope and began to wrap it around her hands as I watched her slow smile grow wider.

"This is gonna be fun!" she exclaimed as she moved closer to me on the bed.

I began to scream as loud as I possibly could.

*.*.*.*.*

Jake took the call but never had a chance to say hello when he heard Ted Pierson begin speaking.

"Okay, Jake. Here's what we've got. There's an all points bulletin out on Caitlin that was streamed to every officer on staff here and at the County Sherriff's office. We sent a couple of patrolman to scout around each place she was supposed to be today. But, I thought of something else we can try as well."

Jake listened to Ted run down the next step he wanted to take, but the cold dread that had started in his stomach when he had first talked to Ram was spreading. That same spread of cold, dark dread that he'd had when he had watched the doctor begin to make his way down the corridor to let him and Frank know of their Dad's death. The same dread that occurred when the military notified him of Frank's death.

"Jake? Jake, you there?"

"Think that'll work, Ted?" Jake finally spoke.

"Worth a try especially if you are sure she carries her cell in her back pocket."

"Then do it. Do it as fast as you can, yeah?"

"On it, Jake. And, man?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't give up."

Jake closed his phone without responding and brought the small, sleek rectangle up to his forehead. "Not so easy to do, man. 'Cause I love her." he whispered.

*.*.*.*.*

I stopped screaming just long enough to drag in another deep breath.

"Oh, don't stop screaming now, you stupid slut." Fiona's eyes were wild as she continued to stroke and wrap the rope around her hands again and again. "I like to hear girly screams when I'm getting my trophies. C'mon now, really let loose!"

I felt her wrap the jump rope around my neck before she shoved the piece of wood through the loops at each end. As she turned the piece of wood, I felt the rope begin to tighten. Even though she was only now a foot away from my face, I started screaming again. I was trying to project my voice even louder hoping that it could penetrate the walls of the small trailer or disrupt her slow, methodical turns.

"Let's get you ready, Cathy, hmm? A trophy has to be set up just right!" She tucked her homemade handle underneath my neckline and tucked it under my bra strap to keep it from unwinding. I felt her hands as she moved to push the mini-mart smock and my thermal up before catching my bra and pulling them all up to the top of my chest. I was exposed from the waist up and felt the chilly air against my sweat slicked skin, my body twisting and turning jostling my bad leg as I tried to get away from her and her pawing. "Fuck! Home-grown tits, should've known," she mumbled sitting back into her chair. "No class."

I felt more than heard a small thud against the wall under the window above my head. I took another deep, deep breath and began to scream though my voice was now becoming hoarse, my throat sore.

Fiona reached for the button of my jeans and was just pulling on the tab to release the zipper when there was another thump though this time it came from the other side.

"What the…" Fiona began as she straightened and flicked at the dirty cloth that passed as curtains to cover the windows. I watched her peer right and left then moved to repeat the same movement at the window by my feet. She must not have seen anything because she pulled her cell out her pocket before seating herself in the chair. She scrolled and used the touch screen when she found the phone number she wanted. As the call was connecting, she started running her fingers over the remaining, unused implements. Her almost incoherent, under her breath muttering sounded like a chant, but I was only able to catch a couple of words that sounded like 'daddy' and 'good girl' as she began to sway, rocking her body back and forth in the chair. Her movements stopped though when I heard her begin to speak into the phone.

"Layton, baby, I got her. The one you want. The one who's name you whisper when you're fucking me. Come and get her, lover. She'll be my special present to you."

There was a small movement that caused the whole trailer to rock and I saw a man stepping carefully down the hall of the small trailer, a gun held in both hands, his arms straight out in front of him. The gun was pointed directly at Fiona's back and seemed to follow her movements.

"I need for you to get up from the chair slowly with your hands up," he said calmly but firmly. I glanced to Fiona but it was if she hadn't even heard him.

"Stand up from the chair and raise your hands in the air," he made another step closer down the narrow hall, the gun still trained on Fiona's back and his voice was louder, firmer on this second request. I could see he was wearing some kind of vest over the top of his dark gray suit.

Fiona didn't stop her phone call. "Looking forward to watching you fuck her, baby."

He was at the doorway of the small bedroom, about two feet away from Fiona's back before taking a large step forward and grabbing the back of her neck. He threw her forward and her cell went flying as he forced her head down onto the mattress near my knees holding his gun against her back.

"Got her!" I heard him yell and watched as two men came down the hallway, both with guns pointed. One moved into the room and the one that kept Fiona's head pushed into the mattress moved back a ways to give the other man space as he worked to stuff her wrists into handcuffs behind her back.

"Oh, goodie! A party!" She squealed as she was straightened and handed off to the officer in the hall.

As she was escorted away, I started sobbing.

The first man, the one with the funny vest over his suit made a point of pulling my top down so my breasts were no longer exposed. He looked into my eyes.

"I'm Detective Paul Adler, Caitlin. Are you alright?"

*.*.*.*.*

"Jake?"

"Here," Jake didn't want to take the call but felt like he had to. He was outside her building, pacing up and down the sidewalk by the street, too upset to wait in her apartment, too agitated to even sit in the car.

"We got her, Buddy, we got her."

"She okay?" He croaked and could feel his knees starting to turn to jelly as he waited for Ram's words.

"She's good, Buddy, real good. Conscious, a little banged up. Banged up enough that she's on her way to the hospital. You can head on over there."

Ram heard the wind against the phone before it hit something and the call was disconnected.

Marianne, who had been watching Mr. Stanton pace the sidewalk since she got home from work, watched the tall man drop the cell phone from his ear and begin a slow descent to the icy sidewalk. His knees gave out completely and she watched as he fell hard on the pavement, his hands on his knees, head bowed. She grabbed her coat by the door and swiftly made her way out to him.

"Mr. Stanton?" she called softly halting just a few steps away from his position, seeing he was still kneeling on the cold sidewalk. As she looked closer, Marianne saw Mr. Stanton's shoulders shaking so she held to her place, pulling her coat more securely around her as she waited. She tried to avert her gaze when she saw him use his hands to wipe at his eyes and cheeks, giving him some measure of privacy as he pulled himself together.

"I'm okay," she heard as she watched him tiredly straighten to full standing, where he paused. He reached down and grabbed the cell phone that had luckily landed in the snow and not on the sidewalk and slowly wiped it on the side of his jeans. He didn't meet her eyes as he spoke but seemed to concentrate on pulling his keys from his pocket before stepping slowly, carefully towards his car. He used one hand against it to steady himself as he made his way to the driver door. Without turning around, he said, "Caitlin's in the hospital."

"Uhm, okay," Marianne responded not knowing the protocol of addressing the owner of the company she worked for, much less if she should or shouldn't ask what happened.

"Have her call you, yeah?" he called over his shoulder as he lifted his suddenly weary body into the driver's seat.

"Sure, Mr. Stanton," Marianne mumbled knowing he couldn't hear her over the sound of the engine before she slowly turned and made her way back into the apartment.

Chapter Seventeen

"Is Jake here?" I croaked for probably the hundredth time to the hundredth medical person as they wheeled me out of Radiology where I had x-ray after x-ray taken of my hip, leg and ankle.

"Sorry, honey, I don't know," the kind faced older woman, identified as Nurses' Assistant Betty by the employee badge hanging from the brightly colored lanyard swinging around her neck. "Let's get you settled and see if we can find him. After what seemed like an eternity, Betty wheeled me into a room for two that was blessedly empty of another patient and locked the wheels on my bed. She fiddled with my IV line and reconnected the leads that were affixed to my chest to the overhead wall unit. After bringing me water and showing me all the buttons and remotes that operated the bed and the TV she finally said, "Let's see if we can find your Jake now, shall we?"