True Control

TRUE CONTROL 4.1

TRUE SERIES

BY

WILLOW MADISON

©2015 WILLOW C MADISON

All rights reserved.

No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Madison, Willow

True Beginnings (True Series, Book Four . One)

Cover Design by David Colon

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in the book should be interpreted as the author’s advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

Chapter 1 HIM

“Mr. Traeger, we just need to go over this one more time.” The short detective is taking a seat at my table across from me. I didn’t tell him he could. I’ve given up control of my apartment, my car, my office.

The other detectives are standing in a group near my terrace doors, staying out of the way of the people working around my living room. They’ve already finished with the other rooms. I haven’t talked to this detective yet. He just stood in the background up until now.

With my head in my hands still, I growl, “I’ve been over this and over this.” I look up, my bloodshot eyes bouncing around the room full of cops. “When are you people going to tell
me
something?!” Jeff puts his hand on my shoulder to try to calm me, but this only angers me more. I stand up quickly and go to the kitchen.

Jake is leaning against the counter. He shakes his head and hands me a small scotch. I shouldn’t be drinking, not now, but I need to calm my nerves.

Jeff comes in and says quietly, “Max, you need to cooperate. I know this is frustrating, but this is how it works. This
is
how we’ll find Lucy.” I know he’s right. He got the ball moving fast on this, calling in favors from his cop days. I take another gulp and put the glass down, a little calmer. I walk back to the dining table and sit down.

“Max!” Dad pushes past two cops by the door and rushes to me. I smile slightly, seeing the look of shock and anger I know mirrors my own. My brother’s been trying to stay calm and neutral for my sake. But Dad isn’t one to hide his feelings behind a mask.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Jake said it was a zoo here. I thought it’d be best if she comes later…when we get this place cleared out.”

“Good.” I turn to the detective again. Taking a deep breath, “Where do you want me to start?”

“You said the last time you saw or spoke to your wife was when you left after lunch,” he refers to his notes, “about 1:00?”

“Yes. We had lunch together here. Lucy had an appointment with her doctor at 2:00. Jeff drove me to a clients.” I say this last part through gritted teeth. I still blame myself for not having Jeff drive her. I had too many appointments all over town this afternoon, I needed him to keep me on schedule.

“Sorry to interrupt, Det. Killaney. We have everything we need here.” The detective nods to the uniformed cops and watches as most of the people leave my apartment. It’s a mess of dust and prints and tossed shit everywhere. They’ve searched every inch of the apartment looking for any sign of a struggle or hint where Lucy could be. I didn’t think they’d find anything here, but I let them loose to do what they needed to do. My car and office must look the same.

“And that was with her OB/GYN doctor,” again back to the notes, “Dr. Patel?”

“Yes. Her office left a message that Lucy missed the appointment.” I’m starting to go numb giving these details again. It’s either go numb or go ballistic.

“I got three.”

“What?” Through my numbness, I frown at him.

“Three kids. Three boys. Have you been trying long?”

“No.” I don’t want to answer questions about this. Too painful to think about Lucy missing and possibly pregnant too.

The detective leans in a little to look at my face more closely. “Ya know it takes some couples a long time to get pregnant. My wife and I were lucky, well, if you call having three boys in less than four years lucky!”

I know he’s pushing me, to get me out of my numbness, but I’m drained. Dad isn’t, he reacts quickly. “Detective, can I ask what the hell that has to do with anything? Or how that helps find my daughter-in-law?”

The detective looks up slowly at my Dad and I follow his eyes up too. He has his stern “lawyer pushing a client to do what he says look” that I’ve seen so often. I can see Jake standing with Jeff in the background, both tense. “Sir. Can I get your name for the record?”

“Ronald Traeger. Now answer my question, Detective.”

“I’m trying to help your son to remember as much detail as he can.” He looks at me, his eyes narrowing, taking in my slumped shoulders and broken state. “I think he’s at his limit though in answering questions tonight.”

“No. I want to get through this. Go on. Ask what you need to.” I’m still numb though. He raises his eyebrows, but goes back to his notepad.

“So when you didn’t hear from your wife this afternoon, you tracked her phone?”

“No. I assumed Lucy was busy with her chores. I tracked her phone when I got home and found she wasn’t here and wasn’t answering my calls or texts.”

He picks up the baggie that has the list of chores I’d left for Lucy this morning. “And this is your handwriting; this is a list of chores for your wife?”

“Yes.”

“And you do this, leave a similar list, each morning?” I can see yesterday’s list in a ball in another bag; they must’ve pulled it from the trash.

“Yes.” I can feel Dad tensing behind me, his hand on the back of my chair.

Det. Killaney continues holding the bag, but changes directions in questions, “But you didn’t just track the GPS, you were able to check her calls and messages too?”

“Yes. I have an app that allows me to check her calls, texts, voicemail and GPS.”

“And you often check these things…your wife’s calls and messages?” He says this quietly, looking down at his notes before bringing his eyes to stare into mine, sizing me up again.

“Not often.”

“What? Every day, every other day, once a week…”

“Usually only if she leaves the house.”

“So, what happens if Lucy doesn’t get through her chores?” He’s appraising me again.

I knew this would come up. So far, it hadn’t, but this must be the ‘bad cop.’

Dad butts in, “I think Max does need a break, Detective.”

I don’t take my eyes off Killaney. “Dad. It’s fine. I need them to get through eliminating me as a suspect as quickly as possible to focus on what happened to Lucy.”

“Why would I think you’re a suspect, Max?” Killaney’s stare is alert again, but he keeps his body purposefully relaxed.

“Isn’t the husband always the first one?”

He laughs, “Usually. But you seem awfully calm about that…”

I only shrug. Jeff had talked me through all this on the drive back to my apartment and while waiting for everyone to show up. Eventually, all the details of my marriage with Lucy will come to light if the investigation goes on. God. If my Lucy isn’t found.

I lower my head at this thought. My Lucy. Where are you, little girl?!

“So…what happens?” I look dumbly up at him, so he spells it out for me, “What happens if your wife doesn’t finish the chores you’ve given her, Max?”

I answer calmly, from a tunnel in my head, “It depends on the chore, on her excuse.”

He picks up the list and reads, “Run two miles in under thirty-five minutes. What if she didn’t get this one done?”

“I crossed it off the list. Lucy wasn’t feeling well this morning again.”

“Hmmm…morning sickness or something else?”

I narrow my eyes again, even in my haze I don’t like discussing this. “I don’t know.”

“So…what about this one…it’s not crossed off.” He points towards the bottom of the list. “What if Lucy didn’t get your suit from the dry cleaners, Max? What would happen?”

“She didn’t.”

“What?”

“She didn’t get to most of those chores today. The dry cleaning would’ve been hanging in the front of the closet if she had.”

“And when you got home, you checked?”

“Not right away. I checked when Jeff and I got back here. While waiting.”

“Hmmm…and what were you going to do if Lucy walked in the door while you were waiting…with all these chores undone?” He’s quiet, calm. Like we’re discussing the weather instead of my missing wife.

Dad clears his throat. “I think that’s enough questions, son.”

“I would’ve punished her.” I take some satisfaction in seeing the cop’s eyebrows lift in surprise. He wasn’t expecting me to be so blunt.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to elaborate.” He lifts his eyes in warning to Dad.

Chapter 1 HER

The smell is the first thing to hit me. That and something metal as my body is bounced around.

I realize I’m on my side. And I can’t move. Oh, God. I can’t move my arms or legs! I panic, screaming against something on my mouth. Pushing with all my might against whatever is holding my arms and legs together. I finally stop, the strain too much. I breathe quickly but only through my nose.

I push my tongue forward, it sticks a little. Tape? I have tape over my mouth? This chills me. I stop moving. I pull in and out quick snotty breaths through my nose. I move and stretch my face, tearing painfully against the stickiness, trying to loosen it. A corner finally starts to come up. Good. I rub this against the smelly carpet or whatever that is. A side comes off.  I turn my head and gulp air. I get the rest to roll off and try to breathe normally.

I try to think. I have to think. I focus on what I know, what I think I know. Ignore what I can’t figure out.
Concentrate.
It’s Max I hear in my head.

I’m in a car? I can hear the engine, smell the gas. My eyes can’t adjust to the light. Ok. That was a curve and rough road. My body is shook up and down, the wheels below me thumping hard against the road, my hips and shoulders pushed painfully against metal. I must be in the trunk of something. 

I hear music…barely. Country music. I don’t recognize it, but it’s twangy. And I hear gravel and dirt crunching below wheels. We’ve slowed down.

I panic thinking for a moment…who’s driving?! Who’s we?! No…No…think only about what I can know. I breathe. I try screaming, but the music just gets louder. I stop, my throat is already raw.

My legs and arms are tied. My mouth was taped. I’m in a trunk. On a dirt road. I repeat this like lyrics to the twangy music.

My head hurts, pounds. The faint taste of something chemical mixes with the smell of moldy carpet, gas, and metal. I was drugged. I fight back the urge to vomit, the motion of the car not helping. I have to breathe and concentrate on the music to get the feeling under control. I laugh hysterically for a moment. God help if I get vomit all over myself. It takes longer to breathe this hysteria away.

I vaguely remember stumbling on the street and being pulled to the curb…was that a dream?

Chapter 2 HIM

“My son won’t be elaborating on anything, Detective.” Dad steps around to stand slightly between my chair and the table.

“Dad…”

“I’m going to have to insist after that answer that your son give me some details…”

“Dad…Sir.” He turns to me at the commanding tone I use. The same one Lucy would’ve responded to. I may be in a fog, but I can see only one thing clearly. Lucy is gone and I need her back. “Dad…no stone will be left unturned and I won’t delay the police looking for what really happened with Lucy today…”

He nods once. But doesn’t move away, only turns to give Killaney a clear look at me.

I sit up straight. Clearing my head with a shake. “Please. Detective Killaney…?”

“You were about to tell me how you
punish
your wife, Mr. Traeger…” His short round body is leaning forward in the chair, his feet just touching the ground.

I take a deep breath. “My wife and I have an unusual relationship. Unusual in today’s standards anyway.” I pause and look at my hands. They itch to have Lucy here, under them. What I wouldn’t give to be angry at her for only forgetting to do the dishes earlier. I look back into the cop’s eyes. “I set rules. Lucy follows them. I set consequences, Lucy submits to them.”

“What kind of consequences…”

I square my shoulders and speak slowly. I don’t want to show any anger or fear. I need to get the police beyond looking at me and to start looking for what really happened. “I will spank my wife, ground her, take away phone and other privileges. Slap her. Anything short of beating her with my fists or a heavy solid object.” Even I’m surprised at how succinctly I can explain this. I’m a monster in my rages against her, but it sounds…natural when said like this, out loud.

He laughs. A short, quick laugh with a shake of his head, “Well…Mr. Traeger…” He breathes out with a laugh again, a sigh, “I’ve never heard a husband try to convince me he’s innocent in his wife’s disappearance in quite this way…” He stops shaking his head, all amusement gone. Waiting for my reply.

“What else do you want to know, Detective?”

“Well…for starters we’ll go back over all the details of yesterday. That was the last day that your wife’s whereabouts can be confirmed by anyone other than you…” Bad cop has hit his stride now.

I sit back. I can only hope this goes quickly. And that other detectives are figuring out where my Lucy is in the meantime! “Fine. But I need assurances.” Dad turns to squeeze my shoulder. He’s been quiet, but I can see his emotions playing across his face. He’s been angry along with me.

“Like what?”

“I need your assurance that I’m not wasting my time here. That there’s a full force of police out looking beyond the door of my apartment for Lucy. Because I know my wife isn’t here. I need assurances that you’re not just fucking with me to make a report and then disappear while my Lucy is out there somewhere. Fucking lost.” I try for an even voice, but I lose it a little saying her name. I bury my fear in calm anger. “I need to know, Detective Killaney, that every Goddamn thing is being done to look for my wife while I sit here with you.”

I see Jeff move closer to the table. He shares a nod with the detective but doesn’t say anything.

Dad turns to me and whispers in my ear, “I’ll call my contact in the Mayor’s office again.” I nod at him and he walks towards the kitchen.

“Of course, Mr. Traeger. We’re doing everything to find Lucy. And your cooperation is helping a great deal. Any information you can provide will help, will lead to finding her.” He appraises me though. He’s not convinced…yet anyway…that I’m not a suspect. I breathe in and out quickly. Goddammit!

“Have you checked the building’s security videos yet?” Jeff speaks up behind me.

Killaney glances up at him, but answers looking at me. “Yes. All are fuzzy like most of them. Poor camera quality, only 48 hours kept recorded.”
“And?” Jeff sounds angry. He takes a breath. I’ve tried to teach him to control his anger, but he has a long way to go.

I take over asking, “Did you see Lucy on today’s tape, coming or going? Or anyone on our floor?”

“We saw a person get into the elevator on the penthouse level around 1:30 today, alone. We saw what looks like the same person leave the elevator and building shortly after.” A good legalese maneuver. No commitment to anything.

“And was this person about five feet, with long blond curls, in a dress or skirt, with a purse similar to the one found today?” I lean forward to ask, I desperately want to know for sure that Lucy left here on her own.

“That meets the description of the person, but we can’t confirm that it’s your wife. The image is unclear for now.” He stops and pulls up a new sheet of notes, dramatically slow. “We do however show a man meeting your description coming and going on the penthouse level between 10:30 a.m. and 11:15 a.m. today.” He glances at his watch, “Yesterday now. Can you confirm your whereabouts at this time, Max?”

Jeff starts to speak up before me, “I was driving Max to an appointment about…” but the Detective’s eyes aren’t on him. 

Jake moves closer to the table, “That was me.” Killaney leans back, looking between Jake and me.

“You were here today? You saw Lucy?” The wind is knocked from my words.

“And for the record…you’re Jake Traeger?” Killaney writes this down as Jake nods in response. Jake doesn’t take his eyes from me; his face is still a mask. But Killaney picks up my question, “So you saw Lucy today, yesterday...” He corrects himself, “in this apartment?”

“Yes.”