by R. S. Smith
“No, my mind is messed up,” she whined.
“That's okay, we're used to that here. You're our eleventh patient today, so we're going to call you Miss November until you can remember. You don't mind being named after a month do you?”
“I feel like a centerfold,” she said, attempting some humor in her time of suffering.
A few hours later she was moved to an upstairs room shared by another patient and given some sedatives.
“My name is Claudette and I'll be one of your nurses here in the trauma ward, Miss November. If you feel you need anything for your pain, just push the button at the side of your bed and I'll be right in.”
It was a struggle getting through the next several days as more x-rays were taken, the broken wrist was patched up, and Claudette made repeated trips bringing needed pain meds.
“Your roommate just checked out. We can move you to the bed over by the window if you'd like,” said the orderly. “You can have a better view of the mountains.”
“That would be nice. That way I can watch the landing helicopters as they bring in more patients.”
“There's a handsome young man who's waiting to see you, miss.”
“There is? Does he know who I am? Who is he?”
“He says he's with the Denver police and has a few questions for you.”
As she looked over at the doorway, a good looking fellow about six feet tall with a crew-cut and a husky build entered the room.
“Hello, miss. I'm Detective Bradley. You can call me Brad if you like. I'd like to ask you a few questions if you're feeling up to it.”
She was immediately smitten and began fantasizing him crawling into the bed with her to do his interrogation. She also felt inexplicably threatened by him.
“I'm afraid I can't be of much help, officer. I have amnesia.”
“Maybe I can help you out a little. We recovered the charred remnants of a large envelope at the scene.” He held it up and turned it upside down. A bundle of one hundred dollar bills slid out into his hand. “This is addressed to a Jen Jennings. The jewelry you wore when you arrived here has the initials 'JJ' on it.”
“Oh, so my name must be Jen and that must be my money?” she asked, holding out her hand.
Ignoring her receptive grasp for the cash, he continued, “This envelope is too large to hold just this. There was either a lot more money, perhaps some instructions or maybe some other things.” He continued to probe with more questions and innuendos, and when that got him nowhere he left with a promise to return.
A while later another visitor arrived. It was a uniformed woman police officer, tall and slender, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She appeared to be around age fifty, and her steely-eyed glare made it clear she was all business and a willful woman used to getting her way.
“I'm Officer Knight with Metro PD and I'd like to ask you a few questions, ma'am,” she said with a slight stutter.
“I just told the other officer all that I know.”
“What other officer might that be, Missy? I'm the only one assigned to this case.”
“He said his name was Detective Bradley. He was most handsome. Maybe the nurses that met him can tell you more. What's going on anyway? All I know is that there was an explosion and that I was found unconscious at the scene with a mysterious envelope.”
Officer Knight took down what few details she could get, picked up one of Jen's empty soda cans, and then left without sharing any of her limited information. As she moved from the bedside and toward the door, her demeanor shifted from business to pleasure, and she mischievously pinched the young orderly on his butt.
“Did you see that?!” exclaimed another woman as she entered the room. “She must be one of those cougars that you hear about!”
“Cougars?” Jen asked.
“Yeah, one of those older women after younger guys.”
“Who are you?” asked the popular patient.
“I'm Miss Billings from the admin office. We need to get your insurance information, Miss November.”
“You can call me Jennings now it seems, and I have no clue as to any medical coverage.”
“Well, we'll need to figure it out soon or else we can't keep you here much longer.”
“Where would I go? And what will I do for clothes?! You guys cut off all that I had! I can't even walk yet due to my dizziness.”
“I'll have them bring you a cane, Miss Jennings, but that will have to be paid for, too.”
Jen pushed the bedside button for more pain medication and the nurse promptly joined them.
“How's your memory today, Miss Jennings?” Claudette asked.
“It sucks, and this woman is telling me you're going to be putting me out on the street soon!”
“Oh, don't worry, sweetie. Everything will work out. Memory loss is usually temporary and the two officers that were here today will surely be investigating your identity,” Claudette said, trying to reassure her patient, while giving Miss Billings a nasty leer.
“What if they find out I'm a wanted criminal?”
“Then we'll just bill the county jail,” Claudette said, injecting a bit of her dry humor.
“I bet that's why she took my empty can of pop.”
“Why's that?”
“She's gonna pull my fingerprints off it to see if she needs to come back and arrest me. Who was that first officer anyway?”
“I don't know,” Claudette said, as Miss Billings left the room. “He was pretty hot though.”
“Yeah, I guess. I found him sort of intimidating,” Jen said.
Another chopper could be seen landing on the nearby heliport as the nurse turned on the TV and tuned in a channel for Jen to watch. A news update about the mysterious explosion came on.
“Last night's explosion at a remote, abandoned warehouse appears to be connected to the recent kidnapping of TV celebrity Joanna Jennings' eighteen-year-old daughter Jessica. A woman now identified through fingerprints as Joanna's sister Jennifer was found unconscious on the scene and flown to the Denver Trauma Center.”
Jen promptly sat up in her bed saying, “Oh my God!”
One Year Earlier
Joanna Jennings had gotten her start in films as a young teenager. Her perfectly shaped legs and butt had gotten her those initial roles. As the years passed, her acting skills became unmatched and she had become one of the most adored actresses in the world. The cable TV channels always had on one of her movies, occasionally airing several at a time. The aisles at the grocery store check-out counters had been adorned with tabloid articles about her every week for years. With her royalties and investments, her net worth was in the hundreds of millions of dollars and the paparazzi fought one another for any chance of a photo opportunity.
Today was her fortieth birthday and they had gathered on the front lawn of her Beverly Hills estate, awaiting her return from a recent filming in Europe. Someone had wheeled in a large sign that said “Lordy Lordy, Joanna is Forty!”
Joanna had had a daughter out-of-wedlock when in her early-twenties and had never married. While none of her films had ever been x-rated, she did like to flaunt what she had, and her newest film had included a backside nude scene as well as a rape incident. The reporters were eager to ask her about it as a limo entered the estate, carrying both her and her daughter Jessica who preferred to be called Jessie.
Included in the camera-carrying crowd was a man who went only by the name Lionel. He was tall and gangly, wore thick-rimmed glasses, and when dressed-up he sported a bow-tie. Lionel was not a photographer.
Everyone began shouting and snapping photos as the sleek, black sedan rolled to a stop.
“Joanna, how was your trip?” someone yelled as she stepped out of the car, followed by young Jessie.
“How did it feel being naked in front of the camera?” shouted another.
“How many times did they retake the rape scene?” shouted out Lionel, trying to blend in with the others.
“Sorry, guys. I'm too tired to
do interviews,” she said as she hustled her teenager into the house. Joanna preferred to keep the kid's press exposure to a minimum.
During the chaos and confusion, Lionel worked his away around to the back and hid in some bushes while the others departed, hoping for a chance to get inside later. There was only one security guard patrolling the premises.
As the mother and daughter unpacked, Joanna called out to Jessie, “Honey, I've just made dinner reservations at the country club. Get cleaned up and wear something nice for a change!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
The house was stuffy from sitting empty and unused for over a month, so Joanna turned on some ceiling fans and opened up a few windows as well as the sliding glass door to get some some fresh ventilation.
Jessie did enjoy lounging in a toasty bubble-bath, and began filling the tub in her bathroom with steaming hot water as she gathered up some clothes to wear that she knew her mom would not like.
Lionel, who had once been arrested for stalking and had spent time in various mental institutions, slipped in unnoticed. He had been a fan ever since Joanna appeared in her first film, and in his half-crazed mind's eye, she was still the same young teen. As he tip-toed along the bedroom area hallway, he eagerly anticipated what was about to come. He paused outside the bathroom, distracted by the loud music and singing, placing his face gently against the closed door, taking in all the various scents. With his left hand he ever so gently turned the doorknob, with his right hand he drew his long-bladed knife.
Young Jessie was resting her eyes as she enjoyed her music and a relaxing soak, buried in the warming bubbles. Suddenly she felt her head being jerked back as Lionel grabbed a handful of her hair and put the tip of his blade at her throat.
“Keep quiet and do as I say if you want to live!” he said in a hushed voice.
She nodded that she understood as he taped her mouth shut.
Lionel was retarded and had been institutionalized for sexual deviancy, but each time he had gone in, he had eventually convinced the doctors he was fit to be released.
He firmly gripped the sharp, forbidding blade as he stood back and admired the scene in front of him. There sat the young and alluring naked Jessie, mouth taped shut, partially covered by her soapy bubbles. Lionel undid his pants and she looked away. They fell around his ankles, and the tall, lanky man began to masturbate.
“I hadn't realized you wore braces. They look good on you. Look at me!”
Jessie had not lived a prudish childhood. She was part of the Hollywood brat-pack, young teen kids of well-known celebrities that partied accordingly. She had frequented clothing-optional parties more than once and seen many of her young friends naked on more than one occasion. When she looked up at Lionel, her eyes opened wide in astonishment at the size of what she saw.
“You look very pretty,” he said, gently stroking himself. “You like this, don't you? Nod your head yes,” he instructed as he extended his arm with the blade in hand.
Again, she nodded.
They looked on at one another for several minutes, then he repeated, “You look very pretty. I like the purple streak you have running through your lovely auburn hair. You have nice little titties. I like that, too. I like that a lot!”
She just glared back at him, unsure what to do.
“Stand up!” he shouted in a loud, but muffled whisper. While she hesitated, he reached for the electric hair dryer and held it in a menacing manner as he switched it on. He motioned with his knife for her to rise up out of the bubbles.
Not wanting to get electrocuted or slashed, the frightened girl obeyed. Lionel could barely contain himself as he leered at the beautiful, young body.
“I like the way you've dyed your hair with purple streaks in both places,” he said admiringly. “It's nice when the carpet matches the drapes in such a way. I do approve.” He let out a wicked chortle. “This is Mr. Lenny,” he said, pointing to his still fully extended body part. “He wants to shake hands.”
Aghast at such a prospect, Jessie pretended not to understand the request.
“Reach out and touch someone. You two can shake hands, but no kissing on the first date!” He couldn't help but laugh at his own attempt of humor.
Both were startled as the bathroom door suddenly swung open.
“Honey, I've laid out the clothes I want you to wear tonight,” Joanna said as she entered. “Oh my God!”
She leaped onto the surprised Lionel, and Jessie promptly joined her in subduing the villainous character. They tied him up with his own duct tape and called the police. Lionel was returned to his psychiatric facility.
One Week Ago
Nearly a year had passed when the doctors once again determined that Lionel was fit to be released back into civilization. He blamed Joanna for his confinement. If she hadn't barged in and ruined things for him, everything would have turned out great, he thought. He wanted to make her pay for her offense, and he wanted another shot at experiencing quality time with Jessie.
Joanna sat in front of her mirror brushing her hair when the doorbell rang.
“Ms. Jennings, I'm Police Commissioner Gravina. We've met several times at the Oscar Awards.”
“Yes, I remember, Commissioner. How can I help you?”
“I need to speak with you about a serious matter, ma'am.”
“Yes, yes, by all means, please come in!”
“I'm afraid I have bad news. The kind that's so ugly I felt I needed to come and tell you in person.”
“Oh my God! Is it my baby girl? It is, isn't it?!”
“Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid so. Jessica was with a group of friends at the mall when someone grabbed her in the parking lot and drove off with her. The man was tall, but wearing a hoodie, so no one got a good look at him.”
“Oh, God, it wasn't that horrible Lionel character, was it?”
“Well, we did just learn that he got released last week. The doctors said that he was well enough to be returned into society to live a normal life.”
“Those morons!! Oh my God, oh my God!”
“We'd like to set-up a phone tap, so that we can monitor and trace any calls for ransom demands. We'll handle all the details.”
“No, no, I don't want that. You can do whatever you want, but I won't be taking any orders from you or any of your men or the FBI or whomever. Money is no object for me. I want to bring in my own people, people who will take orders from me, not tell me what to do.”
“Who do you have in mind, ma'am?”
“Damn! I don't frigging know!” she shouted back at the Commissioner as she paced the room.
“Well, this is strictly off the record, and you never heard it from me, but there are people out there who specialize in helping with such things for a price.”
“So tell them I'll hire them. Let's get the ball rolling!”
“I'm afraid it's not that simple. These folks work outside the law. I have no direct contact with any of them; they're as elusive as shadows in the night. They're not the sort you'd want involved in your life unless you absolutely had to do so. With the proper cash incentives, I could get the word out that you're interested in making contact. It would be very expensive and you could end up making your life more hellish than it is now. It's never safe to dance with the devil.”
“Commissioner, I'll have a hundred thousand dollars cash in your hands by nightfall. Use it however you see fit. You handle the selection; I'm not street-smart enough to manage it. Tell them there's a million dollar up-front payment and an additional ten million dollars when they deliver my Jessica back to me. If this Lionel creature suffers an agonizing death, there will be a bonus.”
That evening she delivered a large envelope full of cash to the Commissioner, reminding him that time was of the essence. She returned to a houseful of agents working on the case, had a nightcap to calm her nerves, changed into her nightie, and went to bed a nervous wreck. About an hour before dawn she was jostled awake to find a hand covering her mouth and the barre
l of a pistol planted firmly against her throat. Although the room was lit only by the outside moonlight, she could tell that the culprit was a woman about her own size and age.
“Shhh, keep fucking quiet if you want to live, bitch,” she whispered.
Joanna nodded and the woman released her hand, keeping the weapon at her throat.
“How did you get in here?! This place is full of cops,” she said in a slumbrous tone.
“It's what I do, lady,” she bragged, with a barely audible air of self-confidence. “Now tell me about this job you want done.”
Joanna had anticipated an early contact, but was overwhelmed by the young woman's impressive introduction. Not wanting to risk wasting valuable time, she had already assembled the million dollar advance. As she began to talk, the woman interrupted.
“Wait a minute, how do I know this isn't some sort of trap?” She bluffed when she added, “You need to know I have a team of snipers outside with night-vision scopes in case it is. Things could get really messy really fast, Missy. Are you wearing a wire?”
“No, of course not. Why in the hell would I be wearing a wire?”
“In my line of work, one learns to expect the worst from people.” The woman put away her pistol and pulled out a switchblade knife. The outside light glittered on its metal blade. “Move over,” she ordered. “I need to check you for a bug.” She slipped under the covers, cozied up alongside Joanna with the blade at her throat, and said, “You should know who you're in bed with, I suppose. You can call me Laura. Now start telling me everything I need to know while I check you out.”
Laura was even more of a control freak than was Joanna. She was also bisexual and had harbored longtime fantasies of the celebrity. While Joanna whispered details of what had happened and what she wanted from Laura, Laura began slowly probing every inch of her body.
“Ms. Jennings, I'm you're best shot at having your daughter returned to you alive. You know that, don't you?”
“Yes, Laura.”
“You want to make sure I'm happy when I leave here, right?”
“Yes, Laura, that's why I already have your money for you. It's in that silver case under the window sill.”
