Pole Dance

by J. A. Hornbuckle

  "Anything?"

  "Not last I heard."

  Ram made his way to the interrogation room and poked his head in, using the movement of his finger to silently ask Jeff to come out into the hall.

  "What do you have?"

  "Nothing so far, Chief."

  "What do you mean, 'nothing so far'?"

  "We picked him up," Jeff glanced at his watch, "about forty minutes ago and he hasn't said anything."

  "What do you mean, 'hasn't said anything'?"

  "Jesus, Chief, just what I said." Jeff started stroking his tie and adjusting his cuffs. "We brought him in, sat him down to talk, brought up the different name and the New Mexico thing and he said…" Ram watched as Tim shrugged his shoulders before continuing, "Nothing. Not a word. We ask. He just stares. We ask again. No response. He hasn't lawyered up or anything. He just sits there like a bump on a log. It's kind of creepy."

  "Where are we with the search warrant?"

  They both heard the shout and ran the few feet back to the interrogation room. Ram threw open the door and saw Hank standing, leaning towards Tim sitting across from him at table. Hank's chair was on its side.

  "Said, sit the fuck down, Hank," Tim was shouting but the towering beefy man seemed not to hear him.

  Jeff made a move to enter the room going for the chair but Ram put his hand on his arm and shook his head.

  Ram walked into the room going to the short end of the table, never taking his eyes off Hank, who looked as if he was in a world of his own, not reacting to the other men in the room--just remaining focused on Tim.

  "We need you to sit down, Hank," Ram said in a soft, firm voice. There was no response from Hank, not a flicker of an eyelash, not a muscle moving at Ram's words. It was as if he was frozen.

  Tim slowly began to stand and Hank immediately reacted grabbing Tim by his lapels and yanking him across the table. When Tim's face was about a foot away, Hank drew back his hand and began to slap Tim on his face and head. Tim had gripped Hank's wrist that was holding him and was trying to twist away. Tim's feet were off the floor and he couldn't get his knees up onto the table.

  Jeff didn't stay by the door but ran around the table, his shoes slipping on the linoleum, as he made his way to the towering blonde man. He grabbed at the hand that was assaulting Tim but it was like he wasn't even there. The big man's hand continued to forcefully slap Tim both forehand and backhand, dragging Jeff along with his hand movement.

  The sound of Hank's palm as it struck was loud in the small room, but seem to have no affect on Tim's assailant.

  Ram pulled his gun and flipped the safety off before aiming it directly at Hank.

  "Stand down, Hank."

  "I said, stand down, Hank."

  "Stand down, Ezekiel," Ram said changing the name to see if elicited a response. He watched as the man that he knew as Hank slowly turned his head in Ram's direction. Catching sight of the gun pointed at him, he groaned loudly as he released his hold on Tim. Tim dropped to the table top before sliding down to the floor.

  Jeff, still hanging onto Hank's arm and tried to twist it behind Hank's back but Hank simply shook him off as if he was a pesky mosquito. As soon as Jeff fell away, Hank began moving towards Ram.

  "Stop right there, Ezekiel," Ram instructed and the large man stopped.

  "You are under arrest for assaulting a police officer. I need for you to kneel on the ground with your hands behind your head." Ram's eyes never wavered from Ezekiel/Hank's and he watched as the big man bent and got to his knees before slowly, slowly putting his hands on top of his head. Ram nodded at Jeff and watched as Jeff read Hank his Miranda rights while he put the cuffs on their now docile prisoner. As soon as the cuffs were in place, Ram backed towards the door and yelled over his shoulder for paramedics and escorts, never removing his gaze from their prisoner and keeping his gun firmly aimed on him.

  Hank was escorted by four officers to begin processing but Ram didn't relax until their prisoner was down the hall. Ram put the safety back on and holstered his gun as he moved to Tim Bell, still sprawled on the floor unconscious. Ram could see the bruising and swelling had already started, turning the good-looking detective into a caricature of himself. There was blood seeping from one ear which meant that Bell had taken either one or more good hits on it and sustained enough trauma to burst his eardrum.

  "How we doing with the Paramedics?" Ram yelled as he straightened up from Bell's body.

  "Dispatcher says they're about 4 minutes out," someone called back.

  Jeff Trusdale came back into the room and put a hand to Ram's back. "You okay, Chief?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay," Ram replied wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Was it me or was that some weird shit?"

  "Whacked, more like. What made you think to call him Ezekiel?"

  "Dunno, a hunch, maybe? Shit, by that time I'd have called him Alice Cooper if I'd thought it would've worked."

  Ram glanced again at Bell's place on the floor and Jeff moved to straighten the chairs.

  "Going back to my office, Jeff. Give me a shout when the paramedics are here, okay?"

  "Will do, Chief." Jeff watched Ram turn and go out the door. He shook his head and glanced down at his partner on the floor. He had never seen someone get slapped so hard and for so long. He hated that he had been unable to help Bell when he was being subjected to Hank's hands.

  Jeff lifted his head towards the door at the sound of rushing feet heading down the hall. The paramedics were finally here and Jeff moved to go tell Ram.

  "Chief, paramedics are here and working on Bell now. Since he is still out, they're taking him straight to Grantham General."

  "Thanks, Jeff." Ram rubbed his tired eyes, with shaking fingers as the adrenaline rush began to dissipate. "How'd we do with the search warrant on Hank's place?"

  "Our guys are in there, think they went into Hank's apartment about the same time we picked him up."

  "Good. Anybody call the officers in New Mexico?"

  "Don't think so."

  "Let's see what intel we can get from them to shake this son-of-a-bitch loose."

  "Will do, Chief."

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was just rolling the last of the garbage to the dumpster when I heard a car coming slowly around the back of the convenience store. Either it was Mr. Mahmood coming by unannounced to check on his employees (which, by and large, was one of his immediate or extended family), or it was one of the cashiers who would work the next shift. In either case, I was disinterested. My mind was filled with visions of how I was happily going to quit doing the early-morning toilet scrubbing gig in between thinking about Sara and Jake. I didn't want to think that Jake lied to me but his explanation about Sara breaking Dale's heart just didn't ring true. The vibe had been just a little too strong for it to be about someone that wasn't in the room.

  I bent down to pick up some scraps that hadn't made it into the dumpster when I felt someone behind me.

  Before I had a chance to straighten and turn around, I felt a jolt and my world went black.

  *.*.*.*.*

  Jake tried calling Caitlin one more time, but just like the other six times he tried, the call just went to voicemail. He knew that she should have finished doing her bit at the mini-mart and should be in between classes about now, but she wasn't answering her phone. The only time she wouldn't answer his call was during the bed fiasco, and he didn't think she had been that upset about the Sara thing. At least, he didn't think so.

  So why wasn't she fuckin' answerin'?

  He pulled out her class list to see which class she was supposed to be going to next. He ran up the stairs and made his way through the kitchen to the back of the club. "Takin' off for a while, Jorge, yeah? Let Sky know when he comes in." As Jake made his way to his car, he decided to stop by Cait's place before heading out to check if she made it to class. She could've gotten sick or something and gone home. He realized that the convenience store was on the way so he made a point of stopping there first.
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br />   He saw the tank she called a car sitting in the mini-mart's parking lot. He got out and checked the doors but they were all locked. Jake touched the hood to see if there was any heat but the metal was cold. He made his way inside and waited while the clerk got rid of the line. "Caitlin here?" he asked the pimply-faced kid that was manning the register. His name tag read, 'Hi, I'm Hamid'.

  "Who?"

  "Caitlin. You know, the gal that cleans up here in the mornings?"

  "She the hot one or the fat one?" the kid asked straightening all the piddley shit piled around the cash register.

  "The hot one. You seen her?"

  "Naw, man, I just came on. She does the early shift."

  "Fuck!" Jake exclaimed pushing through the doors and standing on the sidewalk. Maybe she just had car trouble and had to walk. If so, why didn't she call him? Something was fuckin' wrong, he could feel it. He just didn't know what it was.

  Jake jumped back into his car and sped off towards her apartment. It was now time for her to be at the Nursing home and he still hadn't found her. He called Shady Acres and was told that Caitlin was a no-show, with no call. That was unlike anything Caitlin would do. Jake knew that her jobs, all her jobs were important to her and she would never just not show up or not call if she needed to be absent.

  Jake had no choice but to get the police involved. He didn't want to go through the whole 911 rigmarole because he knew they would tell him that he had to wait 48 hours before reporting her as a missing person.

  That was too long to wait.

  He called Ram on his personal cell phone.

  *.*.*.*.*

  I came awake slowly, by degrees. I was cold, so freaking cold. I could move only one of my legs and feet without pain and my hands were numb located somewhere around the small of my back. I was thirsty, so incredibly thirsty. My instinct was to do anything to wet my mouth, but as I tried to swallow I tasted some kind of cloth against my tongue. I was gagged.

  I looked around as I tried to sit up, shifting my body onto my good leg but what I was seeing didn't make sense. Lawn chairs, a big plastic crate filled with plastic flowers, a push mower. It finally occurred to me that I was in one of those small metal sheds and was looking at somebody's stuff stored away until spring.

  I was finally able to sit up and, when I did, whatever was holding my arms behind me released. My hands were just about done feeling the pins and needles when I turned to see what had been used to hold my hands. Just a small bit of rope. Thank God someone wasn't very good with knots.

  I was just reaching to release the gag when I heard someone coming, their footsteps crunching through the snow. I didn't know if the person coming was a good guy or a bad guy, but I wasn't going to wait to find out. I glanced around the shed looking for something, anything to use to defend myself. I spied a rake and various other gardening tools. Not quite what I needed. There was a croquet set was set in the corner next to the door. I threw off the gag and crawled as fast as I dared, dragging my left leg behind me to grab one of the mallets, and used it to lever myself upright, positioning myself next to the door.

  'So far, so good,' I told myself, using the mallet like a cane to help me get into position, leaning against the metal siding on the same side as the door. I braced myself on my right leg to ease the pain in my left as I brought the mallet to my shoulder. There was a metal on metal sound and the snick of what I could only guess could be a padlock opening. The sliding metal door obviously hadn't been oiled recently. It groaned and squealed in protest as the person tried to slide it open.

  I was still cold, but now I was sweating and shaking with the amount of adrenalin pumping through my system. I held my position and cocked the mallet further behind my shoulder.

  'Hey batter, batter. Swing, batter,' my mind sang. I waited, knowing that I needed to hit the head, that the head was the most important thing for the mallet to smack.

  The protesting door continued to open, just a few noisy inches at a time, until I could see the bill of a baseball cap poke its way in, pointing to the corner I had woken up in. I waited, knowing I needed a bigger target that just the bill of a cap in order to cause any damage.

  I heard a whispered, "What the fuck?" as the cap moved further into the small space.

  'That's it. A little further,' my mind urged the cap. I could feel my heartbeat speed up and the mallet shaking in my hands. I held my breath as I tensed my muscles to try and control my trembling.

  The body beneath the cap moved faster and, like me, was hunched over in the confines of the small shed. My eyes caught a quick glimpse of well-worn baseball cap covering shoulder-length brown hair and a puffy parka before my body reacted.

  'Sa-wing, batter!' my mind yelled and my body followed. I felt a resounding thump in my hands and arms when the mallet connected.

  *.*.*.*.*

  "Jake, I'm up to my ass here and I've got the police commissioner along with whole board of supervisors watching every move the boys and I make. Under a lot of pressure, if you get my drift."

  "Know it, Ram, but Caitlin's in the wind and--"

  "Because I'm under the microscope, I need you to wait the 48 hours and then file--"

  "Fuck it, Ram! She's out there and something's wrong. I know it." Jake could hear Ram sigh and knew the Chief was as frustrated as he was.

  "She's missing and I can't find her," Jake continued with a break in his voice.

  "I know, Buddy. But my hands are kind of tied here." Ram's voice was soft in sympathy.

  "She interviewed, Ram."

  There was silence as the Chief tried to make sense of the turn in conversation.

  "That's how we met. Caitlin interviewed to be a dancer at the club."

  "Oh, shit."

  *.*.*.*.*

  The mallet connected with the back of the baseball cap but instead of my hard swing disabling the man, it simply knocked his cap askew.

  A gloved hand reached back and grabbed the mallet from my hands as I stood in shock watching red hair escaping beneath the brown as the cap slide further off the head of my assailant. The jerk of his movement caused me to put full pressure on my left leg and I went down hard. Through my pain, I saw the man remove his cap fully and fling off the large aviator sunglasses.

  But, again, what I was looking at didn't make sense.

  The chubby man seemed to morph into a woman right before my eyes.

  "You stupid, bitch!" I heard and watched the mallet swing down in a short arc to connect with my right leg, my good leg before the pain exploded. I couldn't help the scream that shot up and out of my mouth.

  And, this time, I saw the stun gun before I felt the jolt and everything again went to black.

  *.*.*.*.*

  "Jake? I'm gonna have Ted Pierson give you a call back. Give him as much information as you can, okay? I'm putting out an APB for Caitlin. You have a picture we can use?"

  "I've got a couple on my cell phone."

  "Great, shoot 'em over to me and I'll upload them here."

  "We gotta find her, Ram."

  "We will, Buddy. We will."

  But both men knew it was a hollow promise at best.

  *.*.*.*.*

  I awoke this time with my arms stretched over my head and my legs stretched out as something held my feet at my ankles. My left leg was throbbing and I felt the denim tight against the swelling. I moved my right leg and it hurt, too, though not quite as much as the left one.

  "So, teeny-bopper is finally awake."

  I moved my eyes to the right and realized I was now in a different place. Not as cold and covered in some kind of paneling painted to look like wood.

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

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

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