Mia's Journey: An Erotic Thriller (15 page)

Chapter 40

Flynn and Prescott were seated at Prescott’s home, looking at each other and saying nothing.

Prescott had his neck brace on and found turning his head painful. Flynn still had his uniform on and found looking at Prescott painful, for different reasons.

“So what do we know?” Prescott asked.

“’We,’ and I’m using the term loosely, know nothing. How did this become a ‘we’ situation? I think you’re using the wrong pronoun. So let me rephrase.
YOU
know nothing.”

“I need you to find some information for me.”

“I need you to come clean about what you’re into.”

“Look, I knocked Mia around a little, OK?”

“That blood in the gym wasn’t a bloody nose. The lab found fecal matter in it. Which suggests anal rape, vicious enough to injure.”

“Well, Gilheart may have gotten carried away.”

“Oh, I see. Now it’s Gilheart?”

“Look, I don’t see what this has to do with the guy we’re looking for,” Prescott said, pissed off that he was getting backed into a verbal corner by a cop. Who was the lawyer here?

“It has everything to do with it. I want to know what I’m getting myself into. I might owe you Prescott, but I don’t owe you my life, or my career.”

“Okay, here’s the situation. Mia and I like rough sex, okay? And it got a little carried away. She got scared, and she split. I got Gilheart, her boss, to call her in to work so we could talk. Gilheart must have gotten carried away too. Are you satisfied?”

Flynn laughed without the slightest bit of humor.

“Not even remotely. Sounds like a whole lot of people getting carried away beating on little ‘ol Mia, to me.”

“Can you help, or not? I can make it worth your while.”

“Here’s what I can tell you. This guy got in, and got out, without a trace. He left nothing behind. He took both of you out like warm butter. He set it up, so even if he failed, you still wouldn’t have caught him.

While I know you like to pride yourself on beating up little girls and being the Great White Hunter, in this situation, you are the game. You are the mouse to his cat. It is YOU being hunted. And I personally, don’t want this guy hunting me. So you’re going to have to do a whole lot better than ‘I can make it worth your while.’”

Flynn continued, “Have you looked at this from his point of view, yet? He didn’t go looking for this fight. You brought it to him. He’s just trying to protect his woman from getting raped and beaten. So what happens? He warns you off, via Gilheart, and what do you do?

You give her to Gilheart to get raped and beaten some more. So tell me, Prescott, you fucking Einstein, does that sound like a smart move on your part given the circumstances?”

Prescott sighed. Flynn did have a point. Not that it mattered any.

“Yeah, well, all that’s water under the bridge now. Besides, Mia isn’t his woman to protect.”

“Oh, right. She’s just your woman to rape and beat as you please. There goes Einstein talking again. E=M
C
2, uh, buddy?”

Both men looked at each other. Prescott knew he was going to have to show his father some progress. He still hadn’t dealt with the planning board. He hadn’t been to work in days. So far, the office was covering for him, but that wouldn’t last long.

“What would happen if I put out a missing person report on Mia?”

“The city would look for her. We would check the hospitals and the morgue. If she is spotted on a city street, she might be detained and questioned.

If she says she left of her own freewill, then that’s it. She’ll be released. It’s not against the law to get away from an abusive asshole. But if she is injured, I doubt that she’s out looking for a new pair of shoes. She’s holed up. Her mystery guy is keeping her low. Which would make her next to impossible to find.”

“Well then, Officer Flynn, I guess it’s time I filed a missing person’s report. Tell me, Flynn, if we catch this guy can we have him charged with kidnapping?”

“Not if Mia says she went willingly.”

“Let me worry about Mia. You worry about setting this guy up with evidence suggesting abduction and forcible rape. Can you do that?”

“If this plan of yours goes to shit, don’t expect me to carry your water. You’re on your own. I don’t like this, Prescott. I’m not your very own personal dirty cop.”

“Also, do you have anyone who’s good with computers?”

At that same moment, Mia and Daddy were across town, sitting in Daddy’s kitchen. Daddy took his time, grinding the coffee beans just right. Not too fine, not too course. He added some salt to the beans as well as some semi-sweet chocolate shavings, which would melt, then drip down through the coffee, smoothing the acidic taste of the coffee beans.

Mia watched him. Daddy was always so focused on whatever he was doing. He didn’t just ‘make’ coffee. It was a painstaking and elaborate ritual, he carefully carried out. He did it just right, every single time. It fascinated her, but she didn’t understand it. Why not pour hot water over the beans and be done with it?

“You’re weird sometimes, Daddy.”

He looked up at her. “I know.”

“Why not just use instant coffee? It’s a lot quicker.”

Daddy looked like she slapped him. “Instant coffee? Tell me you just didn’t say ‘instant coffee’ in my kitchen. Now look what you’ve done. My coffee beans are crying.”

Mia rolled her eyes.

“I need you to tell me everything you can think of about your husband. I need to know everything. Where he works, where he eats for lunch, his friends, his TV shows, magazines he reads, where he works out, everything.”

“Why do you need to know all that?”

“Just because I’m nosy. Start talking.” Daddy took out a notebook and started making notes while the coffee brewed. Two hours later, after multiple cups of coffee and asking every question he could think of, and Mia getting surly, he had enough information to begin.

“Here’s the first thing I want you to do. I’m going out today and I’ll probably be gone all day. I want you to stay here and don’t open the door for anyone. Just pretend no one is home if the doorbell rings. Sleep, read, watch TV, do whatever you want, but don’t go out. Don’t answer the phone. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Daddy went downstairs to his office, spun the lock on one of his safes, and chose an ID from the dozen or so he had stashed there. He emptied his wallet of anything that could identify him, and added the fresh ID instead. “James Peniwinkle” the new driver’s license said.

He thought that name had a certain, non-threatening sound which was perfect for what he wanted to do today. Landlords like non-threatening types. He also chose some distinctive eyeglasses with clear lenses, which would call attention to themselves and not his face.

I look like Elton John,
he thought,
or Bono.
He next helped himself to some cash.

Next, he went to the garage and changed the plates on his truck to match the ID. This would pass any cursory, roadside inspection by law enforcement, but not an in-depth one, so he better not get hauled in.

He kissed Mia on the head as he headed out the door.

“To my real estate agent, Chernobyl is a fixer-upper.”

Yakov Smirnoff

Chapter 41

Daddy was looking for a certain kind of landlord. One that was more concerned with cash, than credentials.

He chose to start his search on the South side of town. These were mostly working-class neighborhoods with a steady transient population. He checked the Internet listings and came up with about a dozen which looked good.

He called them, introduced himself as James Peniwinkle, put on an unassuming, ‘I’m afraid of my own shadow’ tone into his voice and made appointments.

A couple of them were large apartment complexes, which might work if nothing else panned out, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He was looking for a landlord who owned a few units as rental income.

One who was more concerned with making his bank payments and getting tenants renting rather than checking ID’s and signing hundreds of disclaimers.

He found one on the sixth try. It had its own driveway and covered entrance. He could drive in and not be seen until he drove back out again.

The landlord met him at the door with a handful of keys on a ring. He took a moment to size up his would-be tenant, and he wasn’t very impressed. The guy had a threadbare overcoat on and ridiculous glasses.

He looked like a broke cheapskate who didn’t realize Liberace had died. None of the keys seemed to work in the lock in front of him. So instead the landlord kept up a steady patter of conversation which was designed to put him at ease, but in reality was probing questions about his character.

Daddy, of course, acted too stupid to guess this tricky maneuver.

“So do you work around here, Mr. Peniwinkle, did I say your name right?”

“You certainly did, sir. Yes, I work over at Wells Fargo as an accountant.” Daddy honked his nose into a well-used handkerchief he had just bought at Goodwill.

“Well, that’s a very good job. A lot of my tenants haven’t been that lucky, you know, the economy and all.”

“Well, you keep your eyes down and your nose to the grindstone, I always say. It’s worked for me.”

“Ah! Here we go.” The door finally opened. Daddy could see the door had been forced open at some point in its recent history, probably with a crowbar. “As you can see, it’s a one bedroom, heat and hot water included. You even have your own thermostat.”

“Well, that does make a difference,” Daddy added helpfully, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Are you married, Mr. Peniwinkle?”

“Oh, call me James. Well, I have a couple of friends I see from time to time. And they do stay over occasionally. Is that a problem?”

“I’d say it might be a bigger problem if they didn’t,” the landlord winked conspiratorially, as though it was a secret just between us guys.
Which means he’s probably gay,
thought the landlord.

“It has a large living room and a big kitchen, as you can see. I replaced the appliances last year so you shouldn’t have any problems with them. The bathroom and bedroom are here. When were you thinking about moving in James?” They were old buddies on a first-name basis now. The sudden friendship warmed Daddy’s heart.

Okay, we got past the suspicion and were now talking money. Good,
thought Daddy.

“Well, I have to be out of where I’m at the first of the month. Of course, I’d be willing to give you first, last, and a security deposit now if I’m going to take it.”

“Well, do you see any reason why you wouldn’t want to?” The landlord was starting to see his fish slip away. He moved into used car salesmen mode to nip that idea in the bud. “I can negotiate on the rent if you want.”

“Oh no, that won’t be necessary. I think it’s more than fair.” Time to close the deal, and land this kahuna into the boat. “I’ll tell you what. I don’t have a lot of time. I’m on my lunch break and all. But what do you say I give you first, last, and a security deposit and then three months rent in advance. I like being out ahead of my bills. I have cash, of course.”

The landlord was floored. His lucky day. Cash, no less, no taxes. “I can certainly understand that, you being an accountant and all.” The sound of ass sucking was loud and clear now. “I’ll tell you what. If you want to sign the papers right now we can dispense with all the rigmarole. I think you’re an honest guy, and I’ll just hand you the keys now.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, because I really need to get back to work,” said Daddy as he pulled out a wad of cash and blew his nose into the handkerchief again.

“Why do you need a computer hacker,” asked Flynn, back out at Prescott’s house.

“Well, he hacked into Mia’s computer, remember? Can’t you guys do a back trace or something like that to the point of origination?”

“You’ve been watching too many Bruce Willis movies. Technically speaking, yes it can be done. Practically speaking, you’re going to spend a bundle and the computer Gods would need to be smiling.”

“Can you do it or not?”

“I can give you a number. After that, you’re on your own. I don’t want to be your go-between, or know anything.”

“How soon can you get it?”

Flynn scrolled through his cell phone, pulled out his notebook and wrote down a number.

“Is that soon enough for you?”

Prescott picked up the number and was dialing. Flynn just sighed.

“Hi. My name is Jeffery Prescott, and I got your name from Sergeant Flynn at the Urbandale PD? I was wondering if you were available for a little freelance work?”

Prescott listened in the earpiece for a minute or so, then said,

“Excellent. If you can meet me over at my house, I’ll give you the address. I can tell you what I want done.”

Flynn could hear an indistinct buzz over Prescott’s cell phone.

“Well, then let me give you the address, and…”

Chapter 42

Daddy returned home after securing the new apartment and found Mia watching TV.

“Hi Daddy.”

“Hi Baby.”

“Did you do what you wanted to do?”

“Yes, I did. Did anyone come by the house?”

“No, everything was quiet. What did you do?”

“I got us a new apartment, in case we needed it.”

“Are we going to need one?”

“I don’t know. I still have more to do and need some time to think.”

“Okay.”

Daddy went to his study, emptied his ID out of his wallet and put it back into the safe.
Now, for the next part of this plan,
thought
Daddy, sitting down in the chair.

I need to get into the hospital and get some of Gilheart’s DNA. Hospitals are open and active twenty-four hours a day. The easiest way to move around a busy hospital is either as a patient, or as a doctor or staff. Doctors and staff however, have to wear ID. Patients don’t.
Daddy sat back and considered his options. He could make an ID if he had something to copy. Then, he had another idea.

“Baby, I have to go out again. I probably won’t be back tonight.”

“Why Daddy? I don’t want to stay here alone without you.”

“It’s necessary. Come here, I want to show you something.”

Mia walked into Daddy’s study. He was sitting there with a pump shotgun on one side of his desk, and a handgun on the other.

“Do you know anything about guns?”

“No, Daddy. You’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be, Baby Doll. Come on in.”

Mia came in and stood next to him.

“I’m going to give you two guns while I’m gone. This one,” he said, pointing to the handgun, “you’ll keep with you. It’s small, it’s light. You need to keep it always close to your hand. The other, the shotgun, I’m going to put upstairs, in the walk-in closet off the bedroom.”

“Why Daddy? I don’t understand why I’m going to need them.”

“You probably won’t. They are ‘just in case.’”

“In case of what?”

“In case the world goes to shit. Now quit asking questions and just listen to me, please!”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Daddy picked up the handgun. “This is called a Smith and Wesson Model 60. It used to be the handgun of cops. It’s a revolver, so it is very simple to use. You simply point it, and pull the trigger. It holds six shots. Come on over here and hold it.”

Mia came forward hesitantly, looked at it, fascinated in spite of herself.

“Go ahead, pick it up. It’s not going to hurt you.”

She reached out and picked up the revolver. It felt heavy, and oily. It felt solid. It had a certain amount of silent, deadly, power sitting in her hand.

“Okay, let me show you how to use it. Never put your finger on the trigger when you’re handling a gun. Your finger only goes on the trigger if you intend to fire it. Instead, let your index finger rest right here.” Daddy moved her index finger to the correct location.

“Is it loaded?” asked Mia, mesmerized by the sight and power represented by the gun.

“No, it isn’t. So right now, it is perfectly safe.”

“How do I load it?”

“See that button next to your thumb? Push it.”

Mia pushed the button with her thumb, and the cylinder popped open.

“Awesome. Are you going to teach me to shoot?”

“Yes, but not today. This gun I want you to keep with you. Chances are almost ninety-nine percent you won’t have to use it. But if your husband should find you and come for you while I’m gone, I want you to have something. Your husband is a coward. If he sees you with a gun, he’ll back down. Even so, you need to get used to this gun, having guns around, and being comfortable around guns.”

“What happens if I squeeze the trigger?”

“Nothing will happen. Well, it will ‘dry-fire’. Go ahead. Do it.”

Mia squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened.

“Pull it harder.”

This time the hammer came back and came down suddenly with a dry sounding click. Mia put the revolver down on the desk, and unconsciously wiped her hand on her jeans.

“If you ever have to shoot it, aim at the center of their chest, and just keep pulling the trigger. Don’t try to aim. Just line it up and let it go. Understand me?”

“Okay, cool,” Mia said, interested despite herself. “What about that one?” she asked pointing at the shotgun.

“This one is my baby…”

“I thought I was your baby.”

“You are. This one is my other baby. Be quiet and listen. This one I’m going to put upstairs. This is your game plan. If you’re downstairs and need to use a gun, you’ll use it to get to the stairs, then go upstairs to the closet. Just run there and close the door. If someone gets in your way, shoot them and keep running. If someone comes during the night, then just run into the walk-in closet. This one is a bit different, but still very easy to use. The thing to remember is, if you’re going to shoot it, you have to click this button off…see it?”

“What will happen if I don’t?”

“The gun won’t work. The second thing you’ll need to do is called ‘Racking the shotgun’. You do it like this,” Daddy racked the hand slide. The unmistakable sound of a quality pump shotgun being racked, echoed throughout the room. “Now here’s the thing. If you’re in the closet and someone hears that sound, and everyone knows what that sound is, and what it means. Only the most insane will try to fuck with you. The sound alone almost guarantees your safety. So, click that button, then rack the shotgun. Got it?”

“Can I try it?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

Mia picked up the shotgun. It felt heavier, and oozed destructive power.

“Hold it like this,” Daddy showed her how to hold it properly. Mia, even a small girl, could hold it easily. She looked at Daddy, and with her left hand slid the slide down and back up again.

Chuk-chuk.

“What do I do then?” Mia asked, clearly pleased and impressed.

“If they come through the closet door, same drill, aim for the chest and let them have it. They won’t make a second attempt. Once you’re safe, or in the closet, call 9-1-1. Wait for the police to arrive. Like I said, chances are it will never get this far. But I want you prepared in any case. This is called ‘Plan B’.”

“What’s ‘Plan A’?”

“Lay low, keep your head down, and hope for the best. Now I got to go…”