Best Laid Plans... Ch. 02

Scarlett Wilde closed the driver's door of her ten-year old Toyota Corolla, cranked the engine and put the air conditioning on max. As the car began to cool, she fished out her cellphone and dialed. She put the phone on speaker, opened the notes app with her left hand as she pulled her laptop from the case on the passenger seat with her right. She flipped open the laptop and began to transfer the notes she had jotted down on her phone app.

The phone call was answered on the third ring. "Scarlett, did you find him?"

Scarlett was typing when she replied, "Hey, Tom. Trooper Davis wasn't real happy to talk to me. Kind of blew me off, but he did say Bens told him she was waiting on her boyfriend to come help her."

"So, nothing new?" Tom asked distractedly.

"Nope," Scarlett said. "Just like the other two troopers. All their stories matched what we read in the original police reports, and none of them added anything to their stories."

Tom audibly sighed on her end of the line. "This is a pointless assignment! Six months ago, some detective goes missing and now my editor wants to do a follow up piece with no new follow up information!"

Scarlett stopped typing on the laptop. "I'll go talk to the DOT guy next. Maybe he remembers something new."

"Don't bother," Tom said dejectedly. "I was given this assignment because I'm in timeout for that unflattering article I wrote about the new mayor. This puff piece is part of my penance. I have enough bullshit to cobble something together. I can get it done by deadline tomorrow. Unfortunately, I still have that piece on the double homicide in Brentwood and the rise in traffic fatalities on Beach Boulevard."

"I can write it up for you, Tom," Scarlett interrupted. "I don't mind. Like you said, it's a puff piece anyway, and it's not like there's any new information to print..."

After a brief pause, Tom replied, "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Scarlett. That would be great."

Scarlett beamed and she pumped her fist. "I'll have it in your inbox by this time tomorrow."

Tom disconnected the call from her end and Scarlett finished her notes on the laptop with a smile on her face. Scarlett Wilde was a 20-year-old intern at the Times-Union, the local newspaper in Jacksonville, Florida. She was in between her junior and senior year at the University of North Florida and majoring in journalism. Scarlett had been interning at the Times-Union every summer since the end of her freshman year, and she knew she had to pad her resume because next year she would be trying to sell herself to some news outlets for a job.

Scarlett was working with Tom Dean, the Time-Union's lead investigative reporter, this summer, and she had enjoyed her time with Tom. Tom gave her much more free rein than any of her other mentors had in the past, and Tom had let Scarlett write several pieces that were printed in the paper.

Considering it was late July, Scarlett knew this was probably going to be her last assignment before classes started in mid-August, and that Tom was going to let her write it up was a nice parting gift. The piece was a six-month follow up of a Jacksonville detective, Colleen Bens, that had disappeared in January of this year. She was last seen by three separate state troopers and a DOT employee on the side of the road with a disabled SUV.

The funny thing is that Detective Bens told two of the troopers that Triple A was on the way to assist her, and she told the third that her boyfriend was coming to help. Subsequent investigations revealed that Triple A had never been contacted to respond to Detective Bens's location, and she did not have a boyfriend during the time she disappeared. Even old boyfriends were interviewed by the detectives investigating the disappearance, and none of them were contacted by Colleen Bens anytime near the time in question.

No one knew why Detective Bens would give conflicting and false information regarding her disabled vehicle, but sometime between her last contact with anyone known to authorities, Trooper Davis, and later that night, the SUV was no longer parked on the shoulder of the interstate and vehicle and driver had not been seen since.

A mystery to be sure, but the case went cold quickly, the police suspended the investigation and life went on. Six months later, the editor at the Times-Union wanted a piece updating the investigation. Unfortunately, there were not many, if any, updates, but Scarlett did not mind. She got a chance to write up another article for publication that would only pad her resume.

She put the car in gear, pulled out of the parking lot and made her way to the Department of Transportation yard several miles away. She parked her Corolla near the small office building and looked at the notes app on her cell. Clarance Eugene Garvey was the DOT employee that was listed in the original police report, but other than he stopped briefly at Detective Bens's disabled SUV, there was no information about what had occurred - if anything. The report only listed Mr. Garvey's name and date of birth. February 29, 1996. Scarlett smiled to herself noticing that Garvey was born on a leap year's extra day and thought how crazy that he had a birthday on his actual birthday every four years.

Scarlett locked up her old Toyota and made her way in the small, old building. An older, obese man with a DOT work shirt and pants sat behind a desk eating a sandwich and looking at an iPad. He looked up and said, "May I help you?"

Scarlett smiled, checked her notebook and said, "I sure hope so. Are you Clarance Garvey?"

The big man shook her head. "No. You just missed him. You might catch him in the yard before he leaves for his shift."

Scarlett thanked the man and made her way into the heat outside. She saw a row of full-size white pickup trucks with the DOT logo printed on the sides and back and adorned with yellow light bars on the roofs. She walked along the parked trucks and looked for Mr. Garvey, while realizing she was not dressed appropriately for the Florida summer. Button-down shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were too hot for this climate. Scarlett thought she was in for a day in the air-conditioned office and did not dress appropriately for the field.

"Can I help you, miss?"

The voice had come out of nowhere and startled Scarlett. She spun around and saw a thin man dressed in a yellow reflective safety jacket, stained work pants and dirty work boots standing a few feet behind her.

"You startled me," Scarlett said impishly. "I'm looking for Mr. Clarance Eugene Garvey. Any idea where I can find him?"

The man looked Scarlett over and her gaze lingered on the boots on her feet. Scarlett looked down and saw there was nothing on the ground and the man appeared to be looking at her footwear.

Scarlett cleared her throat and asked, "Any idea where I can find Mr. Garvey?"

The man looked up slowly and met Scarlett's eyes. "I'm Clarance Garvey." He then looked down at the boots again.

Scarlett looked at her boots as well and got a creepy feeling about this guy. "You... ahh... you like my boots?"

"Yeah," Garvey said slowly. "They're really nice. Expensive I bet."

Scarlett shifted uncomfortably. "Ahh... yeah, but I can't afford these. They were a gift from my parents last Christmas. I always wanted a pair."

Garvey continued to stare and nodded. "Shyanne Full Quill Ostrich Boots, right?"

Shocked that Garvey knew the exact brand and style of boots she was wearing just by looking at them, Scarlett nodded and said, "Yeah. Good eye. Hey, Mr. Garvey, can I ask you a couple questions?"

Garvey finally took her gaze away from Scarlett's Shyannes and looked at her face again. "What can I do for you, young lady?"

Happy to not be talking about her boots, Scarlett said, "I'm Scarlett Wilde. I work for the Times-Union, and I'm following up on a news story from several months ago. You were listed as a witness during the Detective Bens disappearance, and I'd like to ask you a couple questions regarding that incident."

Clarance Garvey stared at Scarlett with a deadpan expression. "I remember that girl. Cops interviewed me several times months ago, but I haven't heard anything since then. You're a reporter?"

"Yes, sir," Scarlett embellished. "Can you tell me what happened that night? The night you saw Detective Bens?"

Garvey glanced at Scarlett's brown Shyannes again, before looking back up and saying, "Not too much to tell. I saw the SUV with the flashers on and stopped to render assistance. Before I could do much, a state trooper stopped and told me to leave because he would handle it."

Scarlett typed a few notes into her phone's note app. Without looking directly at Garvey, she asked, "So you didn't have much interaction with Detective Bens?"

Scarlett looked up and saw that Garvey was looking at her boots again. She cleared her throat and Garvey slowly looked up at Scarlett's face. The deadpan look had been replaced with something else. An expression that, in Scarlett's opinion, conveyed longing. Scarlett immediately became apprehensive. This Garvey guy was giving her the creeps.

Garvey seemed to notice that Scarlett was eyeing him warily, and his demeanor slowly morphed back to deadpan. Scarlett inadvertently swallowed and looked away.

"I just asked her if I could help," Garvey said slowly. "What was wrong with her Cherokee. If I could contact someone for her. Stuff like that."

"I... I... see," Scarlett stammered.

"She had nice boots too," Garvey said with a grin. "Not as nice as yours, but nice nonetheless..."

Scarlett had taken an involuntary step backward. "Ah... okay, mister. I... ah... I guess I've got enough..."

Clarance Garvey took two steps toward Scarlett. "Do you have a card or something? In case I remember some detail that's slipped my mind..."

Scarlett almost tripped as he took two quick steps away from Garvey. "Ah... no... no, sir... I... ah... don't have a card..."

"Maybe we could..." Garvey started to say, but never got the chance to complete his thought.

Scarlett turned and walked away as quickly as she could without running. She said over her shoulder, and glanced to see if Garvey was following, "Thanks again, Mr. Garvey. I appreciate your time."

Garvey was not following. He was just standing there watching Scarlett leave with a mocking smile on his face.

Twenty minutes later, Scarlett was parked behind a McDonald's down the road from the DOT yard. After she just about sprinted to her Corolla and sped out of the DOT lot, she drove to the fast food restaurant, parked in the back and called the detective who was assigned to the Bens missing person case originally. She wanted to ask about Clarance Garvey, and if he had ever been considered a suspect. Unfortunately, the detective was not in the office, and Scarlett left her name and number with a secretary.

She had then searched all the data bases she could think of to find anything and everything on Clarance Eugene Garvey. The man was a ghost. Absolutely no social media accounts on any platform that Scarlett could think to look. She pulled up property tax records but found nothing. She was about to give up, when she thought about searching surrounding counties and finally got a hit.

Garvey owned property in an unincorporated area near Needmore, Georgia, in Echols County. A check on Google Earth showed a small residence surrounded by woods. She decided that she needed to go out to Garvey's place and have a look. She put the address in her maps program and pulled out of the lot and into traffic.

Scarlett started to call Tom but stopped. She knew for certain that Tom would tell her not to go. He would say it was just a puff piece and to pass along the information to the police detective whenever he called back. Scarlett put the phone down as she made her way toward the interstate.

Two hours later, Scarlett was in the outskirts of Needmore, Georgia. Garvey's property was a wooded area on a hill which was surrounded by cyclone fencing. The main route into the property had a rollaway gate. Scarlett circumnavigated the property and found no accessible areas to enter.

"Mr. Garvey certainly enjoys his privacy," Scarlett mumbled to herself.

She looked at her watch and figured Garvey would be working for at least another five to six hours before returning home. Add to that, Garvey would have to travel almost two hours, Scarlett assumed she had plenty of time to snoop around. She would be gone well before Garvey ever returned home.

Remembering the image of the property from Google Earth, the house was at the center of the property which she assumed was the top of this hill. The entire area was surrounded by thick Georgia pine trees. Scarlett found an area off the main road to park her Corolla, so no one would notice it. She grabbed her cellphone and crossed the street to the chain link fence.

The top of the fence had ringlets if razor wire on top, to prevent anyone scaling the barricade. She had not noticed the razor wire because of the low hanging pines which were covering the tops of the fence.

Scarlett was thinking there was no way she could get over the fence, when she saw an area to her left where some animal had dug under the barrier. By the size of the indentation in the dirt, Scarlett assumed it was a dog or a wild boar. She got down on her knees and studied the gap under the fence. She surmised she could fit but she would definitely get dirty in the process.

"All this for a Pulitzer," Scarlett said to herself and began wiggling her body under the fence.

Surprisingly, she made it to the other side easily with only the waistband of her jeans catching on the bottom of the fence. She stood up, brushed herself off as best she could and began walking through the trees, uphill, toward the house. The thick trees made terrain difficult to navigate, but Scarlett made decent time as she ascended the hill. After thirty minutes of walking, the trees began to thin out slightly, and she could see a clearing ahead.

Scarlett continued her upward trek until she reached the clearing and could see the house. She had emerged on the side of the structure. It was an old, unkempt ranch style home. The paint was pealing, several shutters were hanging loose or missing and the roof was in desperate need of reshingling.

Scarlett was not sure if anyone was in the house, so she decided to walk the treeline and observe the structure to see if there were any signs of occupancy. When she was in the rear of the home, Scarlett spied something in the woods. She debated ignoring it but did not want to leave anything behind her that would give away her intrusion.

She weaved her way through the trees and entered a small clearing that was filled with several vehicles in disrepair. They were covered with a military type of camouflage netting that ensured no one would see them from the air. Scarlett began to look at the vehicles. There were six in all, but there were several camo nets on the ground, and tire tracks, which led Scarlett to believe that other vehicles were here at one time.

All the cars were covered with pine needles and sap from the trees. Garvey had apparently got these vehicles in here via a small pathway that led from the clearing and left them to rot. Several had already been removed for one reason or another. She turned to leave this area, and make her way back to the house, when one of the vehicles caught her eye. It was apparently an SUV, by the size and shape of the body under the netting.

Scarlett approached the vehicle and lifted the netting. Under, she saw a gray Jeep Cherokee. For some reason, she thought this was important but could not remember why. She tried the front passenger door, and it was unlocked and opened with a little protest from the hinge that desperately needed some oil.

She maneuvered her way into the front passenger seat and looked around. The interior was clean for the most part but showed signs of abandonment. A musty smell, a layer of dust and one web in the area near the driver's seat, showed no one had been in this sport utility vehicle in a while. Scarlett opened the glovebox and pulled out a few sheets of paper. The only other thing in the box was the owners' manual, which she left there.

She started to look at the papers. One was a receipt for having the oil changed at a Jiffy Lube nine months ago. The second was a form letter about a recall for the vehicle that was two years old. The third made Scarlett freeze as her breath caught in her throat.

The paper was a vehicle registration from the State of Florida. The owner of the vehicle, this 2020 Jeep Cherokee, was Colleen Bens of Jacksonville.

"Holy shit..." Scarlett mumbled. "Holy Shit!"

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her cellphone. She tried to call Tom Dean but the call did not go through. Scarlett pulled the phone from her ear and looked at the screen. He had no signal.

"What the hell?"

She realized she was breathing very hard and almost hyperventilating. She tried to calm herself as she weighed her options.

She knew she had to let someone know what she had found, and she had to do that sooner rather than later. With no phone signal, she knew she should get back to her car, or anywhere closer to the road, so she would have a signal and could inform the authorities that a vehicle of a missing Jacksonville detective was hidden on Clarance Garvey's property. She thought for a fleeting moment to try and make entry into the house, to see if anyone needed help, but she quickly dismissed that idea. She had to get the authorities involved immediately.

Scarlett extricated herself from the SUV after she took pictures of the SUV's registration with her useless phone and placing the papers back in the glovebox. She looked back at the house, which she could see clearly from where she was standing, and consciously tried to slow her rapid breathing. She turned and started to head in the general direction she thought she had entered the property at the fence line, when her right foot tripped on something and she heard a metallic tinging sound.

The pine needles littering the clearing erupted as Scarlett's feet were violently pulled tightly together, and she was pulled viciously to the ground, landing on her back. Before she realized what was happening, she was pulled across the ground and into the air by her now bound feet. Scarlett slammed back first into the tree in which the snare trap had been set, knocking her unconscious.

The next cognizant thought that Scarlett Wilde had was how much her head hurt. She had never experienced such an excruciating headache in all her 20 years. She wanted to bring her hands up to massage her throbbing temples, when she realized she was in serious trouble. Her hands were in the small of her back, palm to palm like he was praying, secured by an extremely tight binding. Her ankles and just below her knees were similarly bound.

Scarlett's eyes flew open, and she was greeted with only blackness. He tried to yell for help, but her mouth was packed full of some kind of foul-tasting cloth and bands of what felt like tape around the lower area of her face efficiently gagging her. She began to struggle against her bonds and realized she was laying on a cold concrete floor and all her clothing had been removed. Scarlett was completely naked.

She tried to call out, but the only sounds the emanated from the gag were grunts and "Mmmmpphh!".

She struggled for a long time but to no avail and finally fatigue and a pounding skull forced her to stop. She breathed heavily through her nose and tried to calm her thundering heart, as she tried to think about how she had come to this situation.

Then the memories began to flood her system. She had found Detective Bens' SUV and was going to the police, when something snatched her off the ground and then blackness. She had apparently stepped into some kind of trap and been knocked out when she was slammed into a tree. Now, she was bound tightly at the wrists, ankles and knees. All her clothing was missing and she was gagged. She could feel pressure all over her head and face and assumed she was wearing a tight hood. By the way it allowed her to breath freely through her covered nose, Scarlett assumed it was made of nylon or some other thin, stretchy cloth.

Having no clue how long she had been unconscious or how she got into this position, she could only surmise that she had been found - most likely by Clarance Garvey. And if it was Garvey who had found her and secured her in this manner, Scarlett knew she was now in a life-or-death type situation.

Ignoring her searing head, she thrashed about in attempts to get free. The fatigue forced her to cease her struggling quickly. Soon she just laid on her side and contemplated what was to come. The sound of metal sliding against metal caused Scarlett to jump in surprise, and she began struggling and yelling into the gag again. Another loud screeching of metal on metal sounded and then the creaking of a door could be heard close to Scarlett's head.

She heard someone's steps echo in the room she was in and stop near her. She was forced onto her bound feet and then placed in an over the shoulder carry. She was walked out of the room and winded their way through an echo-ladened area for a minute or two.

The person carrying Scarlett stopped - she assumed it was Garvey but hoped like hell it was not - and placed her on her bound feet on another concrete floor. She heard the rattle of what sounded like chains and something clipped onto the binding around her wrists. Then the sound of a chain being winched, and her arms were pulled upward. The chain continued to pull Scarlett's arms upward until her heels were off the floor, she was bent forward at the waist and she was on her toes. The pain in her wrists were rivaled by the burning now in her shoulders.

As she howled into the gag, the hood was yanked off. The light in the room was extremely dim, so there was no adjusting discomfort for her eyes. She looked at the man standing in front of her, and it was as she feared - Clarance Garvey. He was still dressed in his work clothes and sported an impish grin. Scarlett's splitting headache was all but forgotten as fear and anxiety fought to overwhelm her.

Then, Garvey spun on his heel and walked toward the near wall. Scarlett followed him with her eyes and finally noticed parts of the room where she was bound strappado. There were chains and ropes dangling from the ceiling. The walls, which she could barely see because of the gloom, were adorned with items of torture hanging from pegs on the wall.

Scarlett looked at her legs and saw the white rope that was wrapped around her ankles and just below her knees. The rope was applied almost artistically, where the coils were neatly wound and cinched in the center. She could not see her hands but assumed they were secured with rope in the same fashion.

Garvey grabbed a riding crop and returned. He walked behind Scarlett and without any indication struck her hard on the upper thighs. Scarlett screamed into the gag in surprise and pain.

Garvey returned to where Scarlett could see him and said, "I'm going to remove the gag and we are going to have a frank discussion. If you lie to me - if I sense even the slightest bit of deception - I will beat your bottom with this crop until I'm physically bored with the act of doing it. Do I make myself clear?"

Scarlett nodded her head in the affirmative.

Garvey pulled a pair of shears from his work pants and cut away the duct tape that was wrapped around Scarlett's mouth. He then removed Scarlett's socks from her mouth and dropped them on the floor. Scarlett could not believe those two socks had been able to fit in her mouth.

"Let me tell you what I know," said Garvey as he pulled up a stool and sat in front of Scarlett.

"Please, mister," stammered Scarlett. "Please let me go. I won't tell..."

"Anyone," Garvey interrupted. "Yes, yes, yes. I've heard that one before. But, of course, you'd tell someone. I wouldn't blame you if you did. I would if I were in your shoes... or boots should I say..."

"Mister, I..."

Interrupting Scarlett again, Garvey said, "You will only talk when I ask you a question. Do you understand me?"

Scarlett nodded again. "Yes, sir..."

Garvey smiled again. "I thought you'd see it my way. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, here's what I know for sure. Your name is Scarlett Wilde and you are from New Jersey. You are enrolled at the University of North Florida, about to start your senior year and majoring in journalism. You are currently an intern at the Times-Union, not a reporter. Am I dead on so far, Scarlett?"

Scarlett nodded again. The shock evident on her face.

"You were researching for your reporter mentor guy on the six-month anniversary of a Jacksonville Police Department detective vanishing without a trace," Garvey said matter-of-factly. "You came to me because I was interviewed during the initial investigation and became suspicious of me for one reason or another. Am I still on target, Scarlett?"

Scarlett barely nodded.

"You found my domicile through an internet search of my property tax records. That's well done, Scarlett. You'll make a fine reporter someday," Garvey said cynically. "You managed to get onto my property and located the hidden automobiles. During your discovery, you realized one of the vehicles belonged to the missing detective. You were about to go notify the authorities of your discovery, when you unfortunately stepped into one of the many snare traps I have set in and around that area."

Forgetting the ground rules on her being allowed to speak, Scarlett asked, "How could you know all that?"

Garvey smiled proudly to himself. "Young lady, I discovered everything about you on social media. You really should filter some things in your life. Scarlett Wilde, you are an open book!"

"But you don't have any social media accounts," Scarlett said meekly.

Garvey leaned closer and said, "Of course I do, but none are registered under my actual name, silly girl!"

Scarlett's head was swimming. She had no idea what to do or say. She heard herself say, "Ther can't be happening..."

"Oh, it's happening, sweetie," Garvey said. "It's really happening. I found out about how you found my home by going through your laptop."

Scarlett's head snapped toward Garvey's face.

Garvey nodded. "Yes, Scarlett, I found your car. Rather easily I might add. It's currently parked in the clearing right next to Detective Bens' Cherokee. I saw the picture of the SUV's registration on your phone, which I recovered from the ground directly under your hanging and unconscious body."

"I called the police already..." she mumbled in desperation.

Garvey shook her head. "No, you didn't. That's a lie. I have a device which puts out a dampening field all over my property. Cellular devices don't work here."

Then Garvey stood up and sauntered behind Scarlett.

"Where are you going? What are you gonna..."

She never finished as the riding crop impacted with Scarlett's naked butt cheek. That was followed by nine more hard strikes. Garvey calmly walked back to the stool and sat.

"That was for lying about calling the police," Garvey said. "And I know you did not email or text anyone since you left me at the DOT yard this morning, because I searched your previous texts and the call log on your phone. You called the Jacksonville Police Department, but it was the number for the investigating detective's desk, and the call was less than a minute. The detective wasn't in and you left a message."

Garvey leaned in close to Scarlett's face. "No one knows that you are here, Scarlett. Isn't that correct?"

Her ass still burning from the swats from the riding crop, Scarlett nodded almost imperceptibly.

Garvey's smiled broadened as he leaned back. "The truth will set you free, Scarlett. Well, not free but you get my meaning. Anyway, I knew you were on my property because I have an extensive camera system and motion sensors in the woods which surround my residence. I was on my way from Jacksonville almost the moment you crossed the fence."

"What are you going to do to me?" Scarlett asked in a meek whimper.

"That depends," Garvey said as he crossed her arms across his chest. "I detest trespassers, but I need to know something. Why did you come here and what did you tell the detective's voicemail or secretary when you called?"

Scarlett quickly blurted," I told him I was coming..."

Garvey wiggled the riding crop. "Scarlett? The truth, please..."

Scarlett fought the tears back, nodded and said, "I told him to call me back. I left the message with a secretary. I just wanted to ask if you were ever considered a suspect in the detective's disappearance."

Scarlett looked away from Garvey and at her neatly bound ankles.

"You're very lucky, Scarlett," Garvey said as he stood up and walked around Scarlett. "My snare traps normally break a person's ankles when they get caught like you, but your delicious boots saved you terrible injury."

Scarlett just stared at her feet and tried to rein in her swirling emotions.

"Unfortunately, your boots were ruined. The shaft - made from that stiff leather - prevented any serious injuries to your ankles but they were pretty torn up. Unfortunately, I had to throw them out when I got you out of the snare."

He squatted down so he could see Scarlett's face and said, "Are you comfortable, Scarlett?"

Scarlett's shoulders and wrists were on fire. She shook her head side to side.

Garvey stood up and began working the chain which secured Scarlett in the strappado bondage position. The chains began clanking as Scarlett's arms began lowering. The relief was immediate. With Garvey's assistance, Scarlett was disconnected from the chain and she stood in the middle of the dungeon.

Clarance Garvey reached down and picked up the sodden socks from the floor and held them up at Scarlett's face. "Open wide, please."

Scarlett hesitated.

Garvey smiled. "It's not as if anyone will hear you holler for help, young Scarlett Wilde. I just love having my toys gagged. Now, please open wide."

Scarlett obeyed and the two socks were crammed into her mouth. Garvey then pulled a roll of silver duct tape from his work jacket and wound the sticky material around the lower portion of Scarlett's head at least eight times. He tore the tape free from the roll and smoothed out the gag over her face.

Next, he helped Scarlett to the floor and squatted down next to her. He pulled a piece of white rope from his cargo pocket in his work pants and quickly secured Scarlett's feet to her wrists. Once the hogtie was in place, Garvey said, "I have to return my work truck back to Jacksonville now. Your intrusion caused me to just leave without notifying anyone. Once I return my work truck, I will immediately come back here so that I can enjoy my new toy."

Scarlett moaned into the gag. Garvey walked back to the wall and replaced the riding crop on the peg on the wall. He started to shove the duct tape back in her jacket pocket but dropped it to the concrete floor. He reached for it and shouldered several items hanging from the wall near the riding crop. The clinking of chains echoed as he grabbed the roll of tape. When he stood up, the shears that were in his pants cargo pocket fell to the floor, but Garvey did not notice them.

Scarlett Wilde did!

She looked at the sharp industrial scissors and knew if Garvey left them there, and she could somehow get them in her hands, she might just have a way out of this nightmare.

Garvey walked away from the wall toward the opening of a dark hallway. He stopped and looked back at Scarlett.

"I'll be back in no more than four hours," he said merrily. "I would suggest you spend your time thinking about what's in this room, what's in store for you when I return and what your life has now become."

Clarance Garvey turned on his heels and strolled out the opening. His footsteps echoed away as Scarlett again looked at the shears lying on the floor about 20 feet away from her hogtied form. She attempted to wiggle her bound body toward the cutting tool and freedom, but the hogtie prevented her from moving more than a minute distance. Plus, the strain and energy expended would wear her down if she kept up this course of action.

She reached her hands toward the rope that secure her bound wrists to her secured ankles. At first, she could not locate any knot, but then her right index finger brushed against it. She rolled to her side and tried to bend backward. Her effort rewarded her a severely aching back but she was able to grab the knot in her right hand.

After a long while of fiddling with the knot, it finally started to loosen. Scarlett had no idea how long she had been at it, but she was able to untie the rope and her wrist were no longer attached to her ankles. She looked around and spied the shears. She angled her body perpendicular toward the shears and began rolling toward the wall. She came to rest in an area she was positive the shears were resting.

Scarlett looked and saw them. They were right next to her rump. She grabbed them, spun them around and forced the cutting blades between the rope around her wrists. It took several attempts, but finally Scarlett felt the rope tightly encircling her wrists slacken and start to fall away.

She cried out in triumph into the gag and she wrestled her hands free of the restraint. She sat up and used the shears to cut away the ropes encircling her knees and ankles. She cut away the tape wrapped around her lower face and removed the socks from her mouth. For the first time since Scarlett Wilde had regained consciousness, she was free from her bondage.

She stood up and looked around the room. The items hanging from the walls and the littering the surrounding area were things of a horrific hallucination, but she pushed that from her mind looked for some type - any type! - of clothing to put on, but there was nothing but implements of torture. Figuring she would have to be naked for the time being, Scarlett went to the opening Garvey had walked through almost an hour earlier.

Scarlett saw a dim hallway with two doors on the right side and one on the left. All the doors were made of what appeared to be heavy wood which were steel reenforced. There were two think metal slide locks on each door. The door farthest down the hall on the left was ajar. She walked quietly down the hall toward the open door and peered inside.

It was a 10x10 room constructed like everything in this house of horrors. Concrete floor, cinderblock walls and wooden railroad ties along the ceiling. A single dim inset lightbulb cast a gloom on the empty room which sported only a bucket in the corner. Scarlett surmised this had been the room she was in when she had woken up. The other doors were cells as well, she surmised.

She wondered if anyone was locked behind those doors but decided to worry about escaping first. She could get the police to come back here and free any other unluck guests - or toys as she had been referred to by Garvey.

Ignoring a shutter that went down her spine, Scarlett continued down the hall to a small rectangular room. There were two chairs, one looked like a very comfortable recliner and a stool, and a steel rollaway cell door at the far wall.

And the steel door was still open!

Scarlett tentatively crept to the open steel rollaway door and peered beyond, her bare feet making no noise announcing her presence. Past the open cell door was a wooden staircase. She quietly stepped toward the foot of the stairs and looked up. There was a wooden door at the top of the flight of stairs. Scarlett listened intently for any noise from upstairs but heard nothing. She looked around her surroundings, expecting to see Clarance Garvey bearing down on her, but saw nothing at all except the empty, dimly lit room past the open cell door.

She stepped on the first step. It creaked under her weight, and she froze. Still, no noise from upstairs. Scarlett ascended the steps quickly, stopped at the door and listened. Still, she could not hear anything.

Scarlett turned the knob, expecting it to be locked, but it clicked open. She slowly swung the door open. It creaked noisily but no one seemed to be around to hear it. She stepped into a darkened, sparsely furnished living room. All the lights in the house were off, adding to the idea that Garvey was not here. She went to the window and saw it was nighttime. She saw that there were no vehicles in the driveway or situated out front.

Knowing from what Garvey had told her, there were cameras and motion sensors in the woods. She knew once she stepped foot out of the house, it was only a matter of time before Garvey realized that she was free and attempting to escape. She decided that she would stick to the well-worn dirt road leading to the main gate of the property. She was sure there were cameras and such there too, but there probably would not be any snare traps. Scarlett decided if she made it to the fence without any issues, she would scale the barrier naked if need be- razor wire and all - and damn the cuts and injuries. He would gladly deal with lots of stitches than be in Garvey's dungeon for a minute more!

Scarlett looked around the house for a landline phone but there was none. She found the master bedroom, and it was just as spartan as the rest of the home. A queen size bed, a dresser and a night stand with a lamp. She opened the drawers and checked the closet and found Garvey's limited wardrobe.

Figuring naked beggars could not be choosers, Scarlett dressed in a pair of Garvey's work pants and a dark sweatshirt. She found a pair of short socks and tried to slide into pair of Garvey's sneakers. Unfortunately, Garvey have extremely tiny feet and the old Nikes would not fit.

"Fuck!" Scarlett mumbled as he tossed the small sneakers to the side. She kept the socks on figuring that would be better than traveling outside on bare feet. She went to the front door, opened it, stepped on to the porch and looked around. It was dark and quiet, and, thankfully, there was no vehicle to be seen. This told Scarlett that Garvey had done what he had said he was going to do. He had to get his work truck back to the DOT yard in Jacksonville before anyone realized he was missing.

She jogged as fast as her battered joints and muscles would allow. Her ankles were killing her. She assumed the snare trap had caused at least mild sprains, but that was the least of her worries. Scarlett would trade sprained ankles for escaping from Clarance Garvey every day!

The downward grade was not too severe and she figured she would reach the fence in about 15-20 minutes. She alternated between a slow jog and a limping walk. She constantly surveyed the dark woods to her right and left but saw nothing. Scarlett took Garvey at his word and knew she was probably setting off some motion detector and/or being viewed on cameras, but she had at least an hour before her captor could get back. Scarlett knew if she was lucky - and she was riding a lucky streak right now - she would get to the fence, get over it, flag down a passing motorist and contact the police before Garvey ever returned.

The cyclone fence loomed out of the darkness, and Scarlett audibly sighed in relief. The worn dirt path was just wide enough for a vehicle, and it took Scarlett to the rollaway gate. She stopped at the gate and looked for a gap in the razor wire. Then she saw something on the ground about 20 feet to her left standing against the fence, near the treeline, that did not look natural. Hoping it was something that would assist her in escaping, Scarlett limped over to investigate.

As she got closer, it took her mind a few seconds to process what she was looking at, and she stopped short in confusion. Standing against the fence were her Shyanne boots. The shafts were severely damaged in the area her ankles would normally be while being worn. The snare trap had done a number on her expensive boots. Garvey had not been exaggerating when he said the boots had probably saved her grievous injury, but what where they doing down here by the gate? Then she noticed a red dot of light dancing in the middle of her chest.

Before she could process what she was seeing, Scarlett heard a pop, then a prick to her upper left side of her chest and her upper right thigh, followed by a loud, repeating, electrical static sound and searing agony flooded throughout her body. She collapsed face first in the dirt and pine needles and began to convulse as the 50,000 volts from the Taser coursed throughout her body between where the probes had penetrated her skin. The pain was excruciating and unrelenting, and Scarlett could not voluntarily make her body obey her mind's commands.

That is when she felt someone straddle her lower back. The electric discharge that flowed between the probe that had penetrated Scarlett's left upper chest and her right upper thigh had caused involuntary spasming as well as insufferable pain as all the muscles between the probes tightened and constricted. This caused Scarlett to be unable to direct her limbs to accomplish any fine or gross motor action. She could not even scream because she had no air left in her lungs and was unable to take a breath.

The person on Scarlett's lower back slowly and deliberately pulled her convulsing arms behind her back. Her hands were put palm to palm in the small of her back as if she were praying and then, above the electric static discharge from the Taser, she heard a zipping sound as her wrists were cinched tightly together.

The person spun around and grabbed Scarlett's feet, placed them together, removed the dirty socks and applied another cable tie. The zipping sound ended in Scarlett's ankles firmly secured together just like her wrists.

The person spun back around and grabbed Scarlett by the hair and pulled upward. As her head came off the ground, the filthy socks were forced into her mouth. Then duct tape was quickly wound around her lower face completing the gag. That is when the discharge from the Taser stopped and so did the pain.

Scarlett just laid still on the ground, breathing hard through her nose, and trying to process what had just happened. That is when a nylon hood was pulled over her head, and she was plunged into utter blackness. She tried to yell for help, but the socks, which were caked in dirt and pine straw, completely filled her mouth. The only sounds that emanated from Scarlett were grunts and the occasional "Mmmpphh...".

The man got up from Scarlett's back and walked around the bound soon to be college senior. Scarlett pulled reflexively at her wrists and ankles, but the thick, plastic cable ties were forcibly torqued down and she could not get free. Scarlett was rolled onto her back, and she could feel the Taser probes yanked free.

"Won't be needing those anymore, will we?" the voice of Clarance Eugene Garvey said.

Garvey knelt next to Scarlett and started cutting away the work pants. In a few seconds, Scarlett was again naked from the waist down. Then Garvey started on the sweatshirt.

"I always liked this sweatshirt, Scarlett," Garvey said pleasantly. "You'll have to suffer a little extra for this atrocity."

When the sweatshirt was finally cut away, Scarlett was forced to her feet. She was placed in an over the shoulder carry and they began traveling back up the hill - back toward Garvey's house. Scarlett began to buck but was unceremoniously slammed to the ground.

She lay on the hard Georgia clay and pine needles when Garvey said, "We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Or should I say, the painful way or not painful way. Your choice. Either way, you will end up with me in my home again tonight. What will it be?"

Scarlett was finally able to start breathing again and unknowingly nodded. She was picked up and placed in an over the shoulder carry once more, as the two continued their trek up the hill.

During their travels, Scarlett tried to remain calm as she slowly pulled at the bonds around her wrists. Unfortunately for her, like the rope that was on her just an hour or so ago, the cable ties were not coming off without the assistance of those shears.

Garvey was silent most of the walk, but finally said as they entered his house, "I bet you thought you were free, didn't you Scarlett?"

Scarlett moaned.

"I love playing with my toys," Garvey said. "I love giving you hope and then dashing that hope against the hard shores of reality."

They began descending the steps to the dungeon.

"As if I'd leave a cutting instrument somewhere near so you could get yourself free," Garvey said with a chuckle in his voice.

At the bottom of the steps, they paused as the cell door was rolled shut with a loud metallic clang.

"Or like I would leave the steel door, which blockades my fun place from my living space, wide open," Garvey continued. "I've been doing this for a long time and no one has ever escaped. A close call or two, but never an escape. Not like you, young madame Scarlett Wilde, will be the first!"

They walked through the hallway with Garvey's footfalls echoing off the walls for at least a full minute. Then they stopped, and Scarlett was gingerly pulled off Garvey's shoulder and on to her feet. She was angled in a certain direction before the hood was pulled off.

Garvey moved to Scarlett's left side and gestured with his right hand. Scarlett saw they were standing in a room that had shelving along each wall. The shelves were at least six feet long, appeared to be made of sturdy wood and steel reenforced and had a wrapped package on each one. There were nine on each wall, and each one had a package wrapped in thick plastic.

Scarlett was confused at what she was looking at, when Garvey pointed to the package directly in front of them.

"This is who you came to see, Scarlett. Say hello."

Scarlett looked at Garvey with a mix of fear and confusion in her eyes.

Garvey smiled and shrugged. He walked to the package on the middle shelf on the wall they were facing. He bent over and kissed the package and said, "Detective Bens, I'd like to introduce you to young madame Scarlett Wilde. She came all the way from Jacksonville to interview you for her news story."

Realization flooded Scarlett's mind as her eyes flew open wide. The packages - all the packages - were human bodies wrapped in some kind of tarpaulin. She screamed into the gag, lost her balance and fell hard to the ground. Her head impacted with the concrete and she saw a burst of white in her vision. She maintained consciousness but barely.

Garvey picked up his new toy and placed her in an over the shoulder carry yet again. They walked out of the morgue and down several hallways until they entered the cell with the open door. Scarlett was laid down on the cold concrete and the nylon hood was reapplied.

Clarance Garvey lovingly stroked Scarlett's hooded head and said, "I'll let you rest, Scarlett. I'll be back tomorrow after work so we can start our play in earnest. Sleep well, my sweet, sweet girl. I can't wait until tomorrow evening."

Scarlett heard the cell door slam loudly shut and the two locks noisily engage just before she lost consciousness.