An Offer She Couldn't Refuse

An Offer She Couldn't Refuse

Officer Charlotte Naomi Bellamy - Charli to her friends and family - loved her new assignment. She was only the second female motorcycle officer in the history of the Jacksonville Police Department, and she already knew this is exactly what she needed to get herself right - both physically and mentally.

Charli was a twenty-eight-year-old police officer who had been on the department for seven years. After two years in patrol, she was assigned to the Detective Division where she first worked in Sex Crimes before transitioning to Homicide for four years. Charli thought Homicide was going to be her forever assignment, a job she would happily do for the next twenty years, until she was assigned as the lead detective on the disappearance of an assistant district attorney, Ms. Phoebe Quinn, a little more than two years ago.

The evidence pointed toward foul play, so the Homicide Unit took the lead on the case. Assistant DA Phoebe Quinn was a gorgeous woman and a phenomenal attorney who was on the fast track in the county prosecutor's office. When she disappeared, the list of potential suspects was ridiculously long - from former lovers, criminals that she had put away and their acquaintances, and a jealous ex-husband - but no leads panned out, no trace of Phoebe Quinn was ever found and every bit of new evidence led to brick walls or even more questions.

Charli had an addictive personality - a trait she personally loved and fostered - but that personality ate away at her. She took the case too personally. She thought she had so much in common with Quinn, that Charli kept seeing herself as the victim and doubled down on trying to solve the mystery of her disappearance. After a while, Charli was up to all hours of the night going over all the case files, she stopped working out, drank way too much, she stopped hanging out with friends, her personal life ground to a halt and she even stopped going to church. Her dynamite good looks took a downward spiral as she gained weight, became increasing pale, had bags under her eyes during all waking hours and flew off the handle at every little perceived indiscretion.

She lost friends, her fiancé ended their three-year relationship - which at the time did not concern her in the slightest - and her work product suffered. Finally, her supervising lieutenant ordered her to the department's psychiatrist. After a short time in therapy, Charli could see what the Quinn case was doing to her and knew she had to get as far away from it as possible for her own health, sanity and well-being. She talked with her lieutenant and sergeant and asked if the case could be reassigned, and if she could be transferred out of Homicide until she got her mind right.

Because she was a fine detective, and because her supervisors knew the case had driven her to this point and not because of any lack of effort, they bent over backward and got her assigned to wherever she wanted to go. Charli had always loved riding motorcycles since she was a teenager, and the thought of riding one for her job topped the list of assignments she wanted.

Her bosses got her into the proper training classes, got her police motorcycle certification and used some leverage to get her into the unit as soon as a vacancy opened. During all that time, with no Homicide cases to investigate, specifically the Quinn case, she was able to clear her mind and steady her life. She stopped drinking alcohol. She began working out every day - a mix of weight training, running, MMA and high-intensity interval training - and the exercise paid dividends. Charli was always considered very attractive with her 5'7" athletic frame and her jet-black hair, but the intense working out had sculped her body to where she was now a muscular 130 pounds.

She worked a steady day shift, Monday through Friday, and enjoyed enforcing traffic laws and investigating simple traffic crashes. She wrote more warnings than tickets, met many different citizens throughout the day and felt herself finally starting to enjoy her job and her life again. She had even attended church service a couple of times and was thinking about entering the dating pool in the near future.

She loved riding the powerful motorcycle eight hours a day in the beautiful Florida sun. Charli especially loved the uniform, if truth be told. Especially since she had gotten into phenomenal physical condition. The dark navy blue, short sleeve uniform shirt adorned with the silver badge over her heart and yellow patches on the sleeves looked great with her defined, yet feminine, arms. The soft Kevlar body armor and sports bra she wore while in the uniform shirt could not totally hide her perky 32C breasts. The navy blue Alpinestar Vika v2 women's pants, a mix of leather and stretch aramid fabric, which were skin-tight, showed off her tone and athletic legs and ass. The knee-high Bella Napa leather boots just looked amazing on her. The white helmet over her French-braided hair and topped off with the Maui Jim Mavericks aviator sunglasses completed the ensemble. She knew she looked amazing and, in turn, felt amazing. Charli loved being a cop again!

She continued to attend counseling to keep the demons at bay, because it was extremely hard for her to completely stop trying to work the Quinn case in her head. Fortunately, she knew that was a part of her she had to keep in check less it would destroy her personally and professionally.

Charli glanced at her watch just above the black Hugger gloves and saw that she had less than an hour before her shift ended. She had one more traffic complaint on this particular Friday that her sergeant had assigned her - speeders in a well-to-do neighborhood - and then she could start her weekend. She was planning on going to the subdivision in question, run radar for about an hour and then head to the house when a white panel van blew past her doing at least twice the posted speed limit.

She gave the bike more throttle and easily closed on the speeding van. She keyed her helmet mic and said, "Headquarters, this is 8222, 10-50, Atlantic and Penman."

After telling the headquarters dispatcher she was about to conduct a traffic stop at Atlantic Boulevard and Penman Road, and the dispatcher acknowledged her transmission, Charli continued.

"Florida tag, Echo-Bravo-Foxtrot-six-six-Lima on a white Chevy panel van. Unknown number of occupants."

The dispatcher repeated the information back to ensure it was logged correctly and that all units listening on the radio frequency knew where an officer was conducting a traffic stop. Charli then activated her blue lights and siren.

The van's brake lights illuminated but continued east on Atlantic Boulevard. Charli ensured she could be seen in the driver's side mirror and motioned the van to pull over. The van slowed but continued another half mile before it pulled into the empty parking lot of a closed down K-Mart. Charli was not too worried, even when the van pulled as far as possible from Atlantic Boulevard and stopped on the side of the abandoned building, but she did remind herself to pay attention to her surroundings.

She stopped the Harley-Davidson Police Road King at least ten feet from the driver' side rear door of the panel van. She could she the driver in the sideview mirror, but he was in shadows and not moving much. She stepped off the motorcycle and slowly approached the vehicle.

Her radio chirped, "8222, tag comes back to a white 2019 Chevrolet Express Cargo Van. Registered to a Thomas Kincade of Ponte Vedra, Florida. No wants or warrants on the vehicle or registered owner."

Charli keyed her radio and replied, "10-4 Headquarters. Final stop in the old K-Mart parking lot."

"Are you 10-77?" inquired the dispatcher, asking if the situation was under control.

"I'm 10-77," she replied.

With her right hand on the butt of her Glock 17 9mm service pistol in the holster on her right hip, she approached the driver's window which rolled down as she got closer.

"Is there a problem, officer?" the man said from the gloom of the interior of the van in a gravelly voice that belied too many years of smoking.

Peering into the interior of the van, Charli could see that the two front seats were the only seats in the van, and the driver was the sole occupant. A solid metal wall was behind the seats separating the cab from the van's interior.

"Good afternoon, sir," Charli said. "I'm Officer Bellamy with the Jacksonville Police Department. May I see your driver's license, registration and insurance please."

"I asked," the man said, "is there a problem?"

"You were doing eighty in a forty mile per hour zone," Charli said. "I'll need to see your license, registration and proof of insurance, please."

The man shook his head slowly. "You don't need to see my license, Charlotte."

The use of her given first name did not get past her. Charli peered intently at the man and asked, "Do I know you?"

The man smiled a humorless smile. "No, Charlotte, you don't, but you want to..."

Charli sighed in frustration. "Step out of the vehicle, sir."

The man slowly unfastened his seatbelt, opened the car door and stepped out deliberately. Charli took a few steps backward toward her motorcycle, never taking her eyes off the driver and looked him over. Shoulder length brown hair, clean shaven, darks sunglasses, a Bass Pro Shops ballcap and medium build. His rumpled t-shirt and jeans gave nothing away, and he did not look even the slightest bit familiar to Charli.

With her hand still on the pistol grip of her pistol, she said, "I'm going to need to see your license, sir."

He smiled that humorless smile again and said, "Are you enjoying your new assignment, Charlotte?"

She cocked her head in confusion. "Who the hell are you, mister?"

"Do you miss the days looking for Pheobe Quinn, Charlotte?" the man asked.

Alarm bells sounded in Charli's head! She took another step back, drew her service pistol and pointed in center mass at the man in front of her. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

The man did not flinch. Just continued smiling that creepy smile.

Charli reach to activate her portable radio, but before she hit the transmit button, the man said, "I've grown bored with Phoebe Quinn, Charlotte. I'm going to give her back to you - safe and sound - but if you call for the cavalry, I'll just claim I have no idea what you're talking about. They'll think you've got off the rails again. That you've relapsed. Trust me when I say, my bona fides will check out. They will think you're going nuts again."

Charli was trying to process what he was saying. "Get on the ground now! And put your hands behind your back!"

"If you arrest me, Charlotte," he said, "Phoebe Quinn will die. I left her in quite the predicament. If I don't get back very soon, I promise you that she will expire, but if you come with me, I'll let you take her back to her friends and family..."

For the first time in a long time, Charli had no idea what to do. She had no idea if this guy was legitimate, but something deep inside her said this had to be the guy who abducted Pheobe Quinn over two years ago.

"8222, 10-77?" the dispatcher radioed.

The speaker in her motorcycle helmet was loud enough for the man to hear and he said, "You should tell her that you're okay, Charlotte. I for one don't want to be disturbed right now."

Charli removed her left hand from the Glock, keyed the helmet mic and said, "I'm 10-77, headquarters. Thank you."

The man's smile widened. "Excellent. Now we can go get Pheobe and you can be the hero who rescued her."

Charli adjusted the grip on her pistol but never stopped aiming at his chest. "How do I know you're for real? How do I know you still have her and she's still alive?"

"If I may show you something," he said, "I'll dispel any doubts you have about my authenticity."

Charli could only nod her head.

The man reached into his back jeans pocket.

Charli put her index finger on the trigger of the Glock and snapped, "Slowly! Pull it out slowly or I'll end you!"

The man smiled that humorless smile again. "You end me, you end her, Charlotte. Simple as that."

He pulled out a Polaroid photo and held it up so Charli could see the picture. It was a photo of a woman's face. She was looking into the camera with vacant, sunken eyes. Her hair was messy and very thin, her lips were chapped and cracked and her cheeks were hollow. She had changed in appearance drastically over the last time anyone had seen her, but the picture was of Pheobe Quinn. Behind the woman's head and over her right shoulder, the front page of the local paper was tacked on a white wall, and it was today's edition. Charli had seen that newspaper on her sergeant's desk that very morning.

Charli blew out a long breath, looked away from the Polaroid to the man in front of her and said, "What do you want?"

"First," he said, "give me your gun."

"Get the fuck out of here!" she snapped. "There's no fucking way I'm giving you my gun!"

"I'm not taking you with me while you are armed," the man said slowly.

"You aren't taking me anywhere, asshole!" Charli growled. "Where the hell is Pheobe?"

He reached into his pocket, produced a pack of cigarettes and popped one in his mouth. He pulled a lighter from the pack, ignited it and lit the cigarette. Then he put the flame to the photo which went up quickly. He blew out a steam of smoke as he dropped the burning photograph to the ground.

"These are your choices, Charlotte," the man said casually as he smoked the cigarette. "First choice, you can give me your firearm, come with me and I'll take you to Ms. Quinn. I will then return you both here and leave you both unharmed. Second choice is that you don't come with me, and Ms. Quinn dies. Third choice is that you call for backup, tell them I'm the boogeyman, nothing checks out, everyone thinks you're crazy and Ms. Quinn dies. Fourth choice is that you shoot me, Ms. Quinn dies and you will be prosecuted for murder - but they probably end up confining you in a state mental institution for the rest of your life after you tell them your tale of me being the bad guy you have so long been looking for..."

Charli's head was swimming. "Why do I have to come with you? Why don't you just abandon her somewhere that she will be found?"

He took a drag, exhaled lazily and said, "When I finish this cigarette, I'm getting in the van and leaving with or without you. If you follow me, I'll just drive around wasting gas. Then, in about," he glanced at his watch, "an hour, give or take, Ms. Quinn will be dead and I'll still be free."

Charli knew the worst thing she could do was give up her weapon and voluntarily go with this madman, but his demented argument actually made sense to her. She could not poke any holes in his logic.

He took another drag, exhaled and flipped the smoldering butt away. "What's your decision, Charlotte?"

"Fuck me!" she hissed, as he lowered the Glock, spun it around and handed it to the man.

He gingerly took the firearm and placed it in his waistband at small of his back. "I knew you were a smart girl and would see the genius of my plan."

"Hardly," Charli said. "I just want to get Pheobe home safe."

He smiled and nodded. "Now, before we leave, you'll need to clear from this traffic stop and then tell them you are out of service for the rest of the day."

Not seeing she had any choice now, she reached to key the helmet mic.

"I'm sure you might suspect it, and it's true. I know all the signals and 10-codes," he said in a friendly tone. "Don't do something foolish that gets Ms. Quinn killed when you're so close to rescuing her..."

Charli surmised this with him knowing about 10-77. She unconsciously nodded, keyed the helmet mic and said, "Headquarters, 8222. 10-8 code X-ray and I'll be 10-82."

The dispatcher replied immediately. "10-8 code X-ray and you'll be 10-82."

As Charli lowered her fingers from the transmit button, the dispatcher added in a happy voice, "Have a good night, Charli!"

The dispatcher's happy demeanor made Charli even more anxious for some reason. As if everyone listening to her few radio transmission had no idea about what was going down and she was most certainly in a precarious position and on her own.

"Time's a wasting, Charlotte," he said as he motioned toward the passenger side of the big van.

Charli grabbed her keys from the bike and locked the handle bars. She started to grab her phone from one of her saddle bags when he told her to leave the phone. She put it back, locked the saddle bags, clipped the keys to her duty belt and walked toward the passenger side of the van.

The man followed Charli. She kept her head turned so that she could see him at all times. There was no way she was going to turn her back on this lunatic who had her gun - regardless if he had only placed it in his waistband.

Charli grabbed the passenger door handle and the man said, "Not there, Charlotte. In the back." As he opened the sliding side door to reveal an empty storage area.

"Why the hell do I have to get in the back?"

He smiled that annoying and frightening smile and replied, "Because you're not going to see where I'm keeping her."

She knew this terrible decision she was making was getting worse by the second. Not seeing a way to get around his newest demand, she walked toward the open side door but was stopped before she got inside when he stepped in front of her.

"Now what?" Charli said in a stressed and exasperated voice.

"I'll need all the toys you are carrying on your belt, please," he said nonchalantly.

"You have my gun!" she snapped. "Why do you need the rest of it?"

He pulled the gun out of his waistband and handed it to Charli. "Here. Take it and go. Unless you play by my rules, we don't go and get Ms. Quinn."

Not seeing that she had a choice, she removed the canister of pepper spray from the leather pouch on her duty belt and handed it to the man. He put the gun back in his waistband, grabbed the canister and placed it on the ground at his feet. She next removed the Taser from its holster and handed it over. Finally, he removed the expandable baton, gave it to the man testily, who placed them on the ground next to the pepper spray.

"Happy!" Charli snapped.

"Everything on your duty belt, Charlotte," he ordered.

Exasperated, she pulled the two spare ammunition magazines and handed them over, which he placed on the ground next to the other procured equipment. She detached the portable radio from her helmet mic, pulled the radio from its holder and handed that over. As he placed that on the ground next to the pile of equipment, she pulled out the tourniquet that was secured to the front of the Glock holster, handed that over and then removed the silver Smith & Wesson handcuffs. When he took the cuffs, he grabbed her outstretched and gloved right hand and snapped the cuff around her wrist.

Charli pulled her hand away and took a defensive step back. "What the fuck do you think you're doing!?"

"There's no way you are going to see where I am taking you," he said slowly, "and no possible way you will not be secured."

"Fuck you!" she yelled. "No fucking way you're putting me in handcuffs!"

"Fine," he said. "Use your key, unlock that cuff and you can have all your stuff back. I'm growing bored with your games, Charlotte."

Charli closed her eyes, sighed a ragged breath and held her cuffed wrist to the man in front of her. "Fuck you! Fine!"

He grabbed her by the dangling handcuff on her right wrist, slowly turned her around facing away from him, grabbed her glove-covered left hand, pulled it slowly, almost dramatically, back behind her and snapped the cuff around her wrist. Charli instinctively pulled her wrists apart and the cuffs were perfectly applied. She did not think she could slide either of her hands out.

He spun Charli back around to face him by grabbing her left bicep and slowly rotating her toward him. The man then grabbed the keyring secured to her duty belt and pocketed the keys. He reached up and disengaged the chinstrap of the motorcycle helmet and slowly removed the head gear. After placing it on the ground, he removed her Maui Jim Aviators and swapped them for the sunglasses he was wearing.

He grinned at her. "Yours are much nicer..."

With his hand still gripping Charli's left bicep, he helped her into the back of the van. Once she was inside and sitting on the floor, her quickly placed her feet together, slid the tourniquet over her Bella Napa leather boots and tightened the strap stringently around her ankles.

"Is that really fucking necessary?!" she yelled at him. "It's not like I'm going anywhere!"

"Charlotte, I can't have you free to move about as you wish," he said. "I will take you to Ms. Quinn, show you where she is and take us all right back here. Once we arrive here, I will give you all your items back, release you both and I'll be on my way. I'll probably leave your radio, keys and gun on the other side of the building just to ensure that I can escape, of course."

Before she could reply, he slammed the rolling door closed bathing her in darkness. There were no windows and the only light was from a closed sliding viewport and only a small amount of light could be seen around the edges. After less than a minute, the van started to move.

"What the fuck have I gotten myself into?" Charli said to the darkness.

Her heart was thundering in her chest and she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. She kept telling herself that she had no choice. If she did not do exactly what he had demanded, Phoebe Quinn would most likely die today. She could not think of a reason this guy would want her to accompany him, a question he had specifically not answered, but he obviously had his reasons.

She pulled at the cuffs again, tried to pull her hand out of the secured shackles and quickly realized they were on tight enough to ensure she would not get free without a key. She pulled at her secured ankles, but the lock on the medical strap, which was intended to staunch blood flow from a traumatic wound, would not loosen in the slightest. She knew she was hopelessly bound, but she still had a few tricks up her sleeve if it came to that.

Even though it was very dark in the back of the van, Charli could see enough to know the two rear doors and the sliding door she had entered from, did not have any handles. This vehicle's cargo compartment could only be opened from the outside. So, even if she could walk around and manipulate her hands, she did not have the ability to open a door and try to flag someone down. And flagging down someone might ensure this guy got arrested for her kidnapping, but Phoebe Quinn was as good as dead, if this guy was telling the truth about her predicament.

She could not see her watch, but it felt as if they were driving for well over an hour when the van slowed and began to drive along an uneven road which felt as if it was in serious disrepair or not paved. Addition time went by as they bounced along the uneven terrain. Enough time that Charli was certain they had been traveling for over an hour - an hour was supposed to be the amount of time before Phoebe would die if they did not arrive.

Finally, the van slowed to a stop and the engine cut off. Charli could hear the driver's door open and then slam shut. Less than a minute later, the sliding door opened and the man stood there in the waning daylight, still wearing her sunglasses.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Charlotte?" he asked jovially.

"Let's get this over with," Charli said. "You said she only had an hour. We drove for what felt like double that amount of time!"

He gave her his smug, humorless grin and said, "I exaggerated to get you in gear. In all honesty, we've been driving for well over three hours. She most certainly would have perished if you had delayed me in returning, but we still have time."

Charli scooted herself to the open door. The man reached to her ankles, loosened the tourniquet and slid it up Charli's legs. He helped her get out and onto her feet and then tightened the strap around the area just below her empty duty belt. He grabbed her by the left bicep and led her away from the van.

She could see that they were stopped in a wooded area and a small, yet picturesque, log cabin sat situated several yards behind the van. He led Charli toward the cabin and around the right side of the home.

"What's your game?" she demanded as they walked. "Where are we going?"

"No game, Charlotte," he said. "I'm taking you to Ms. Quinn and then we will be leaving shortly thereafter."

He stopped at an access door angled on the ground to what appeared to be a cellar.

"She's in the basement?" Charli demanded.

"She is," he replied, as he unlocked the cellar access and swung open the door.

Charli could see a stairway leading downward into the dark. He guided her down the stairs which opened into a small, 10x10, room with beautiful hardwood flooring. He turned on the light and she could see the room had only a plush, expensive looking recliner in the far corner. There was a closed door at the far end of the small room. He sat her down in the chair, slid the tourniquet back down around her ankles and tightened it again.

"You stay here," he said. "I'll go fetch Ms. Quinn."

"Were the fuck would I be going?" she snapped.

He smiled his patented smile. "Nowhere, obviously, but I don't want you moving around while I'm getting her."

"Just go get her!"

"Let me make sure your handcuffs are sufficiently tightened," he said, as he bent down behind her and grabbed the handcuffs securing her wrists behind her back.

She heard the ratcheting as he tightened by cuffs down to the point they dug painfully into her wrists.

"God damn it!" she yelled. "That's too damn tight! Loosen them up!"

He stood back up and, still smiling, said, "We'll be right back."

And he opened the door, stepped through and closed it behind him.

"Fuck!" Charli hissed as she tried to adjust her wrists but was greeted with a stabbing pain.

She knew from academy classes and experience, handcuffs applied too tightly could cause nerve damage to a person's hands. As long as he did not keep her cuffed like this for too long, she should be okay, but it still hurt like hell with the steel bands uncomfortably torqued down against her wrist bones.

A minute later, the door opened and he entered carrying something, or someone, wrapped in a tarpaulin over his right shoulder and a black gym bag slung over his left. He dropped the gym bag unceremoniously on the floor and carefully placed the tarpaulin on the floor. He rolled it to face Charli and she saw Phoebe Quinn. Her eyes sunken but wide open in a look that conveyed sheer horror. Only her head was visible, and she was unable to speak due to the heavy, restrictive gag of silver duct tape that was wrapped around the bottom of her face.

Charli took an unconscious intake of breath, but then said, "It's going to be okay, Phoebe. We're getting out of here very soon."

She only moaned a pitiful, mourning whimper and shook her head.

"We most certainly will be getting out of here very soon, Ms. Quinn," he said, "but first I'll need to prepare Charlotte."

"What the hell are you talking about?" she quipped. "Prepare me for what? I'm ready to leave. And loosen these damn cuffs! They're seriously crushing my damn wrists!"

Acting as if he did not hear Charli, the man slowly unwrapped Phoebe. In a few seconds, Charli could see that the former assistant district attorney was naked and tightly wrapped in clear Saran Wrap. Under the plastic, which was wrapped around Phoebe from her shoulders to her ankles, Charli could see black leather straps around Phoebe's ankles, calves, knees, thighs, waist and chest.

"Is that necessary?!" Charli cried. "You know she's not going to give you any trouble!"

Sporting that smile, he picked up the gym bag and dumped the contents on the hardwood floor. Coils of white rope, among other things, spilled onto the floor.

"I don't think she needs any more restraining, asshole!" Charli barked. "Just get us into the van and take us back to Jacksonville."

"The rope isn't for her, Charlotte," he said. "It's for you."

Charli froze for several seconds, then said, "I can't give you any trouble with the handcuffs - which are too fucking tight! - and the tourniquet! Why would you need all that damn rope?!?"

The man closed on Charli, reached down, unbuttoned the top button on her uniform shirt and began unzipping the shirt open.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Charli yelled.

The man pulled the Velcro shoulder straps on her body armor and then the chest straps. Then he pulled the front panel of Kevlar from inside Charli's uniform shirt. He reached behind her, grabbed the top of the rear panel and pull that clear of her shirt as well.

"What the fuck do you need my body armor for?" she snapped angrily. "Not like I can hurt you with it or escape using it!"

After admiring her bosom-covered sports bra, he zipped her uniform shirt closed and said, "It'll just get in the way."

He then grabbed her by the tourniquet around her ankles and roughly pulled her from the recliner and onto the hardwood floor. She grunted in pain as she hit the floor and the pain in her wrists exploded. He rolled her onto her stomach and straddled her by sitting on her upper thighs. He grabbed a piece of white rope and began tightly wrapping it around Charli's elbows. She tried to flair her elbows outward, but was unable to prevent him from securing the rope to the point her elbows were touching behind her back.

Through gritted teeth, Charli stammered, "This isn't necessary!"

After he tied off the elbow binding, he grabbed another coil of rope and began to wrap it tightly around the area below her knees, just above the top of her black leather boots. When he was done cinching the rope binding her knees painfully together, he removed the tourniquet from around Charli's ankles and began wrapping that same area with a coil of the white rope.

Charli had stopped yelling at the man because of his lack of responding and tried to find a position where her wrists did not feel as if the bones were grinding to fragments under the steel bands. She turned her head and was looking into the face of Phoebe Quinn.

Phoebe was weeping. The sorrowful look in her eyes was painful for Charli to look at. They stared at each other while the man finished binding Charli's ankles tightly together. When he was finished with the ankles, Phoebe closed her eyes slowly and shook her head sluggishly side to side.

"We're gonna be okay, Phoebe," Charli said. "Don't worry. We're gonna get out of this. You and me together."

Then she looked back toward the man working on her ankle binding and said, "Can we please end this? You got what you want! It's time to go now!"

The man stood up and looked down at Charli. The ever-present smile was now even more creepy than before. He squatted next to her head, blocking Charli's view of Phoebe, and shoved a large sponge into Charli's mouth. Once it had completely filled her entire oral cavity, he began to wrap duct tape over her mouth and around the back of her lower face. He lifted the back of her French braid so that the tape was flat against the back of her neck. After he wound it ten times, he tore it from the roll and smoothed it out over her mouth.

He said, "You are correct, it's time to go, but I must tell you, Charlotte. I did mention, after we arrived here, that I did somewhat exaggerate, possibly embellish, the time frame of Ms. Quinn's possible impending demise..."

Unable to speak, Charli could only look at her tormentor.

"I wasn't embellishing when I told you I was growing tired of Ms. Quinn," he continued. "Her Aphrodite-like beauty has somewhat diminished over time, possibly because of hard living, and I needed a change. You, Charlotte, will be taking Ms. Quinn's place."

Charli's eye flew open and the yelled into the gag but her words were unintelligible.

He shook his head slowly. "Please, Charlotte, you knew. Deep down inside, you knew this was going to happen. You knew you were trading yourself for Ms. Quinn. In fact, I think that you actually wanted this to happen. You wanted me to take you. You wanted to be my helpless captive. Powerless to stop anything that I want to do with you."

Charli shook her head angrily.

He laughed and said, "There's no way you didn't know that when you submitted to me and allowed me to put your handcuffs on you - securing your hands behind your back - that this was for keeps! Even Ms. Quinn admitted to me she knew her fate as soon as she allowed me to bind her hands when I gave her the offer that she couldn't refuse! The lady she replaced was a former prostitute that Ms. Quinn had rehabilitated and turned into a productive member of society and a successful entrepreneur. I had acquired her almost five years ago, and when I gave Ms. Quinn the same ultimatum I gave you, she knew she was destined to be my property. Now, it's your turn."

He grabbed Charli by her bound ankles and dragged her to the door. He opened it and dragged her into the room beyond. It was a dark, wide-open area - possibly the entirety of the structure above - with bondage implements hanging from the walls and ceiling. Chains and other items dangled from the rafters and there were serval pieces of equipment strewn about the area - such as St Andrews Cross, a bare bed with chains and shackles secured to the head and footboards and several padded benches and tables.

He dragged Charli to the far wall and released her ankles. He grabbed a silver steel collar that was attached to a two-foot chain and secured it around her neck. It was extremely tight but did not restrict her ability to breathe enough to be in danger of asphyxiating her. He locked it in place with a padlock. The chain attached to the collar was bolted into the cinderblock wall.

To make a point, he pulled the chain roughly from the wall, and it did not give in the slightest.

"As you can see, Charlotte, you will not be going anywhere anytime soon."

She cursed at him through the gag.

"I also embellished about bringing her back home," he said slowly and deliberately.

Charli stopped yelling into the restrictive gag and listened intently.

"I was one-hundred percent truthful when I said I had grown bored with Ms. Quinn," he continued, "but this is where her story ends. Unfortunately, she knows this because she knows what I did with the young lady she replaced. Unfortunately, she discovered my true intentions when she was already, shall we say, committed. Past the point of no return. She had truly thought I was sincere when I said I would release the woman, but she learned I'm hardly ever sincere..."

Understanding what he was getting at, Charli began to shake her head and beg him not to do what she was sure he was saying he was going to do.

He lovingly rubbed her ass over the skin-tight leather and aramid fabric bike pants and then stood. "If you'll excuse me, Charlotte. I'm going to dispose of Ms. Quinn. It'll take a few hours, but when I return, we are going to have so much fun together."

Without another word, he turned around, walked across the large open room and disappeared through the door at the far end.

Charli was frozen in shock. She kept thinking about Phoebe's eyes, her expressions, her actions... Phoebe knew that she was going to die and Charli was her replacement.

Then Charli wondered if the man was right. Did she want this to happen? Did she know it was going to happen? At first, she dismissed the idea but then quickly thought it might not be that farfetched. She was obsessed with Phoebe and her disappearance. The case had almost destroyed her. Was there a part of her that wanted to endure what she had to endure over the past two years?

Shaking her head to clear the swirling thoughts and emotions, Charli knew that regardless of her fucked up decisions or her insane subconscious mind, she had to get free immediately if she had any chance of saving Phoebe Quinn... and herself.

She pulled her hands upward above her duty belt, and then wiggled her right thumb and index finger between the duty belt and the underbelt that went around her waist through the loops in the tight motorcycle pants. The duty belt was secured to the underbelt by four thin leather straps called keepers. This ensured the duty belt would not move around while an officer was conducting business during their shift. This also ensured that there was very little space between the two belts.

Charli felt around for the small sleeve she had on the inside of the duty belt. With the thin leather gloves she was wearing, she was having a difficult time feeling for what she was looking for. In this hidden sleeve on the inside of the thick leather belt, Charli kept a hidden handcuff key. She did this after losing her only handcuff key when she worked in patrol years prior, and she was forced to call for assistance to release someone she had detained and cuffed. She decided she needed to always keep a second key on her person. Never did she believe she would be using this key to get herself out of her own handcuffs during a life-or-death situation.

Unfortunately, she had never practiced getting the key located and removed while wearing her riding gloves and handcuffed, and the situation was proving exceedingly difficult. She dragged her index finger around the area near the small of her back when she finally thought she felt an indentation on the smooth surface.

She played with it until she felt the sharp point of the back of the small key. She manipulated her thumb and finger until she was certain she had a decent grip on the object. Then she slid it free and pulled it clear of the belt.

Charli looked back and did indeed see she was pinching a handcuff key between her thumb and finger. She also saw that the keyhole on the cuff of her left hand was not visible, therefore, she knew the keyhole was on the other side of the cuff nearest to where the single strand bow enters the double strand body.

She did her best to ignore the searing agony in her wrists with every movement, realizing if she dropped the key, she might not be able to locate it again. Charli angled the key to the finger side and felt along the surface with the end of the key. After eight excruciating minutes, which felt like an hour, the key popped into the keyhole.

Not getting overly excited, Charli turned the key toward the body of the cuff and it popped open. Instant relief flooded her as the pain in her left wrist abruptly ceased. She plucked the key with her now free left hand and unlocked the other cuff freeing her hands completely from the steel restraint. She shoved the key into the glove on her right hand, figuring she might need it again soon.

She still had another trick up her sleeve. The elbow tie made it still impossible for her to move her arms from behind her body, but she did have more mobility. Charli bent her feet back toward her ass and shoved her right hand in between her calves, just below the rope and above her boots. She reached into the boot and grabbed the Benchmade Claymore folding knife that she routinely kept secured to the inside of her riding boot. Like the hidden key, this knife was hidden away, used as a tool like most motor officers carried, but now she was using it to free herself from a madman.

She opened the knife with the press of a button, spun the knife around in her hand and began cutting at the rope around her calves. Within two minutes, she had sawed through the cord and was working on the rope around her ankles. Ninety seconds later, her legs were free from the ropes.

Flipping the knife around again, Charli tried to reach the rope that bound her elbows together, but the four-inch blade would not reach the binding.

"Fuck!" Charli cussed in frustration.

She then started to shimmy her arms up and down in an attempt to make the rope slide down her arms toward her hands. It took ten excruciatingly long minutes, but the rope finally slid downward enough to where the blade could barely reach. Five minutes of cutting and her elbows and arms were as free as her legs.

Charli sat up, spun around and faced the wall. She pulled on the chain that was bolted into the cinderblock. She placed both of her feet against the wall and pushed with all her strength. The steel collar around her neck did not give in the slightest, and the bolts holding the chain and attached U-joint plate in the wall held strong.

She took off her left glove and felt around the collar and padlock. She tried to use the handcuff key, but it did not fit. Putting the glove back on, she tried to wedge the knife between the cinderblock and the bolted-on U-joint, but only the tip was able to get inside the sliver of a gap between the two. She pounded on the back of the knife handle, in an attempt to drive it between the wall and U-joint but made no progress. She pulled downward on the knife, trying to use enough leverage and pry the bolts loose, when the knife blade snapped off the handle with a loud clang and flew over Charli's head.

She looked back and saw where the blade had landed. She stretched for it, but the short, two-foot chain did not allow her to get far enough away from the wall to reach it. She spun around and tried to reach the broken off blade with her booted feet, but they too were too far to touch it as well.

Charli screamed in frustration. She spun around again to face the wall, planted her feet and began to push yet again, but only to get the same result. The U-joint attaching the chain to the wall was securely fastened, and unless she had a drill, she was not going to get it free from the wall. That thought did not deter her as she continued to pull at the chain and push herself with her feet against the wall.

After twenty minutes of trying to force the chain from the wall, Charli finally stopped. She was drenched in sweat and her labored breathing through her nose was getting difficult. She thought about peeling the tape away from her mouth and removing the gag, but thought of another idea that might help her get free. Pushing the removal of the gag to the back burner, she decided to remove her duty belt to ascertain if anything on the belt could help in freeing her from the chain.

It only took a minute to get the belt removed from her waist, but the inspection provided nothing that would get the chain detached from the wall. She tried to slide the thick plastic of her holster between the wall and U-joint, but it was laughably fruitless. She hung her head in defeat and did her best to fight off the tears that had started to well in her eyes.

Tears not just for her predicament but knowing that Phoebe Quinn was most likely as good as dead. Like during her time investigating Phoebe's disappearance, Charli felt as if she had completely failed the woman, and her failure resulted in her intense suffering, unspeakable pain and, now, ultimately her passing. Fighting the anxiety and crushing depression that was weighing down on her, Charli shook her head angrily and screamed into the gag.

She peeled off her soaking wet gloves and started to peel away the tape around her lower face but stopped just as she found the end of the tape and began pulling it away. A thought popped into her head. Knowing that she would not be able to detach the chain from the wall or the collar from around her neck, she had to make her captor believe she was still helpless. If she had known the outcome of her endeavors, she would have pretended to be cuffed and lie in wait for him to get close enough that she would have been able to stab him with her knife, but with the blade broken and out of reach, that was a non-starter.

But she still believed she could make him think she was powerless but still maintain the ability to escape if the situation presented itself. She might not be able to rescue Phoebe, but she sure as hell could enact some revenge for her and any other victims of this monster.

Charli put her duty belt back on her waist and secured it with the keepers - just as it was when he had left her. Then she put her gloves back on and hid the handcuff key deep in her right glove, but it was not deep enough that she would not be able to retrieve it when she wanted it. Next, she picked up the handcuffs and snapped one of the bracelets around her left wrist. She moved her hands behind her back, slotted her right wrist into the open cuff - thought seriously about her course of action - and the ratchetted the cuff tightly around her right wrist.

This way - hopefully - he would think she was able to use the hidden knife to get free of the ropes but could not free herself from the cuffs and collar. Not knowing if this would work in deceiving him, she wanted to make it as plausible to him as possible. So, after cursing into the gag again, she tightened both cuffs painful around her wrists - just as tight as he had put them on her previously.

With nothing left to do, Charli waited for his impending return. She sat with her back against the wall, looking across the room at the closed door. After what seemed like an hour at least, she rolled onto her side, with her back still against the wall, and closed her eyes. Thinking there was no possibility of her falling asleep was the last conscious thought she had before sleep overwhelmed her.

The sound of the door opening woke Charli. She saw the man had entered and was walking toward her slowly as he surveyed the sight before him. She sat up and put her back against the wall. He whistled a low sound as he stopped, crouched down and picked up the broken folding knife blade from the floor approximately eight feet from where Charli sat. watching.

"I needed to check you better, Charlotte," he said. "That knife could've caused me some problems. I'm usually better than that, but I'm guessing I was so excited about getting rid of the old and playing around with the new, that I let that slip past me."

Charli only looked at him and remained quiet and still.

He stood up. "Lay on your belly so I can see your hands please."

Charli did as instructed. She maneuvered herself onto her chest and looked at the man. He took several steps toward her, looking at her cuffed wrists. When he was sure they were still secured to Charli, he approached her, squatted next to her and inspected the restraints. He put his finger around the bindings, saw they were still painfully snug and nodded.

"You had a blade but not a key, huh?" he asked mockingly. "Not like a key would've helped. No way you're getting free from that collar without a key for the lock. Those bolts go all the way through to the other side of the cinderblock wall and are secured with hex nuts. The only way you get yourself free from this is with a blow torch, Charlotte."

He removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the collar from around her neck. He grabbed her by her right bicep and pulled her up until she was standing next to him. He spun her around slowly and admired he's newest captive.

"Damn, Charlotte," she said in a voice dripping with excitement, "you look so sexy in that uniform."

He unbuttoned the top button of her shirt, unzipped it down and pulled the shirt open to expose her sports bra. He pulled a knife from his pocket - one much cheaper that the one she had kept hidden in her boot - cut away the bra, tossing it aside and admired her bare breasts."

"Like I imagined," he said get even more excited. "Not enormous but definitely big enough for me!"

He pulled at the tape around her lower face and began to peel it off. Within a few minutes, it was piled on the floor with all the rope and he pulled the sponge from her mouth.

"Where's Phoebe?" Charli demanded. "What did you do to her?"

"Are you thirsty, Charlotte?"

"Where the fuck is Phoebe?!?"

He smiled. "She's gone now. Gone and she can't bother us as we play my favorite games with you from now on."

"You sick son of a bitch!" she yelled in a scratchy voice. "You're going to pay for this!"

Lightning fast, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the cinderblock wall. She could not breathe as he lifted her up onto her toes. He pressed his body against hers, so she could not kick or knee him.

He leaned in nose to nose with her, and hissed, "You're going to start showing me much more respect, Charlotte! Your very life depends on it! Do I make myself abundantly clear?"

Unable to take a breath, and pinned up against the wall, Charli could only nod her head slightly up and down in his iron grip. He held her fast for several long seconds, then slowly loosened his grip. She was able to take a breath, but he then slammed her back against the wall. The back of her head impacted with the cinderblocks and she almost blacked out.

With a grunt, he threw her to the floor and she crashed onto her side. He pulled both of her boots off and tossed them to the side. Next, he removed her socks and dropped them to the floor. He stood up and grabbed a coil of white rope that hung from a nearby peg. He squatted placed her ankles together and tight bound them with the cord. He cinched it extremely tight and ensured the knot was in front of her ankles so her cuffed hands could not reach it.

He rolled Charli onto her back, pulled her Glock service pistol from his waistband and forced it slowly into her mouth.

"Suck on it, whore!" he ordered. "Practice on it like you're going to do to my dick in a few minutes."

Charli was still out of it from the blow to the back of her head, but she heard him and knew what was happening when the pistol barrel entered her mouth. She could taste the steel, plastic and gun oil as it pushed deeper into her open mouth.

"Wrap your fucking lips around it, you slut!" he ordered.

Charli complied as he began to methodically move the weapon in and out of her mouth. She could see that his finger was on the trigger, and she knew with only four pounds of a trigger pull, he would blow the back of her head out.

She was drooling out of the side of her mouth and could see her spittle drenching the barrel of the Glock 19 as she sucked on it. She looked from the pistol to the man and his grin was maniacal. His eyes were boring into hers as he panted in excitement. Finally, he pulled the handgun from her mouth and her saliva dripped back onto her face.

With his left hand, he forced Charli to her knees. Then he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his engorged cock, placed it in front of her and put the still dripping gun to her temple.

"You will suck my dick, like you've waited your entire life to suck my dick," he ordered slowly. "I want you into it like it's what you have craved for all these years! If you do this half-hearted, or, god forbid, you try to bite me, I will splatter your brains against the wall and call it a day. Do I make myself crystal clear?!?"

Before she could even answer, he shoved his dick violently into her mouth and pressed the pistol barrel even harder into her temple. With his free hand, he roughly grabbed her French braid and forced her face forward as he thrust into her mouth.

Taking this psychopath at his word, she did her damnedest to ensure she was pleasing him. She wrapped her lips tightly around his cock, used her tongue to rub the head and bottom of his shaft and took it down her throat as far as it would go. She tried not to gag, but that was an impossibility, but she ignored it and kept trying to suck off the man.

She could feel him getting thicker in her mouth, and knew he was getting close, when he abruptly pulled out and popped her hard on the side of the head with the butt of the pistol.

Charli collapsed to the floor in a heap, as he roughly rolled her over and pulled her backside upward. He placed the pistol on the floor, reached around her and undid her belt. Then he unfastened her tight leather blend motorcycle pants and forced them down to below her knees. With Charli's face resting on the floor and her ass in the air, he grabbed her by both hips and angrily entered her pussy from the rear.

"You're such a fucking whore, Charlotte!" he hissed. "You're soaking fucking wet! You're loving every second of this, you disgusting tramp!"

Charli was only half-conscious at this point, but she was sure she was not aroused in the slightest, nor was she wet in her privates. The only reason he was not tearing her up was because his dick had been thoroughly lubed with her saliva and his pre-cum.

He angrily thrusted repeatedly into her for several minutes and then pulled out, repositioned his dick to her ass and entered her anally. This surprise action dusted the cobwebs from Charli's beaten head and she found herself much more conscious than before. She tried to pull away, but he had such a tight, painful grip on her hips, that she could not squirm away.

In a quick motion, he released her hips and grabbed her French braid with his right hand and her cuffed wrists with his left. He pulled her hard and fast back onto his dick as he thrusted furiously into her ass.

Her sphincter was on fire. Her wrists felt like they were about to shatter. Her head was pulled so far back she found it hard to take a breath. Just when she thought that she had to get the hidden handcuff key from her glove and get free because she could not last much longer receiving this type of punishment, he bellowed loudly and released his seed deep into her rectum.

Before he even finished ejaculating into her, he pulled out and stood up. Never releasing her hair or secured wrists, he spun her violently and threw her into the cinderblock wall. Charli's left shoulder was the first thing to impact the ungiving barrier followed by the side of her head. She was unconscious before her bound and tortured body crumpled to the cold floor.

After he zipped up his jeans, he dragged her unmoving body to the collar chained to the wall and locked it around her neck. He looked around, saw her shredded sports bra, picked it up and shoved it into her mouth. He then used her two socks to cleave the torn apart brassier into her mouth tightly.

He looked at her and smiled that sinister grin and reveled in what he saw. His newest toy, her uniform shirt open and pulled over her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Hands cuffed so tightly behind her back that he could see the indentations in her skin and the bruising on her wrists. The black gloves still on her hands looked sexy for some reason. Her skin-tight leather and aramid fabric pants pulled down below her knees, ankles brutally bound tight with white rope and his cum dripping from her ass. Her face was starting to swell from the several strikes he had landed, and her cheeks budged from the impromptu gag her had put on her.

He had two thoughts as he left the basement, locked the access door and entered his cabin. His first thought was that he would do more to her as soon as he could get hard again, because he was ridiculously turned on right now about his newest acquisition. His second thought was he needed to try and calm himself down because at this rate, he did not think Charlotte Bellamy would last nearly as long as Phoebe Quinn - maybe not even last through this weekend...