Blow Dart: The Abduction

Publishing.

aitlin Tierney, a voluptuous young brunette, was just stepping out of her shower when she heard the doorbell ringing. He’s early , she thought as she quickly wrapped a large bath towel around her well-tanned, curvaceous frame and hurried for the front door.

She peered through the peephole then opened the door. James… you’re early, she timidly scolded.

Am I? he questioned, glancing down at his wristwatch.

You weren’t supposed to pick me up until seven-thirty. I’m not ready.

I can see that, he retorted as he leaned his tall, muscular body against the doorjamb. His dark eyes scanned her half-naked body from her head to her toes. Her smooth skin was still glistening with water droplets. He arched his brows and gave her a sidelong glance. "Looks to me like you’re well worth waiting for, Kaitlin; and I have been waiting."

With one arm hugging the towel to her naked body, Kaitlin blushed and coyly smiled as she stepped aside, gesturing with her free arm for him to enter. I know you’ve waited, sweetheart, she said as she closed and locked the door. Believe me… it’s hard for me, too. But this is important to me. You know that.

He offered no response.

Look, just make yourself at home while I get dressed. I won’t be long. She headed for her bedroom when he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and yanked her around, pulling her face to face against his body.

What if I don’t want to wait any longer? he pressed.

James… you know how I feel about this, she said. I’m no prude, but I was raised believing in the sanctity of marriage. Besides, waiting for our wedding night is romantically old-fashioned… exciting, actually. She smiled and gave him a short, sweet kiss. Now please, just let me go so I can get dressed!

Oh, I don’t think so, Kaitlin. He pulled her even closer against his body and tightened his grip. I really do want you.

His demanding tone took her by complete surprise. She glared up at him, her eyes questioning. She let out a choked laugh, You’re kidding around, right?

He just looked at her and flashed a smile that was totally uncharacteristic of him.

You’re making me uncomfortable, James, and you’re hurting me. Please, just let me go, she challenged.

Not only did his hold on her not waiver, he began kissing her on the neck and slid his free hand under her towel, trying to cop a feel. Kaitlin didn’t resign to his aggressive behavior. Instead, she vigorously rejected his advances.

I don’t favor being manhandled, James, not even by you! Now, like I said, let me go! she demanded fervently as she twisted herself free from his grasp. This evening is over, she quietly declared. You know the way out. I suggest you use it.

She quickly turned and rushed to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her. But before she could lock it, he slammed his body against the door, bursting through it and knocking her down. He pulled her up by her hair and ripped the towel from her body.

You really are one gorgeous woman, Kaitlin Tierney. Your skin… it’s so soft, tanned and firm. He ran his fingertips down her neck and across her left breast, then down the curve of her waist to her bare hip. I said I wanted you, and I always get what I want. So why don’t you just relax and enjoy it.

What the hell has gotten into you? she screamed as she slapped at him, scratching, drawing blood with her nails. Have you lost your mind?

His face stung and his temper quickly escalated. No one says no to me!

He grabbed her by the shoulders and flung her down on the bed. Kaitlin scrambled to the other side, grabbing the phone only to have him snatch it from her grasp. He yanked the cord out of the wall and hurled the phone across the room.

His rage was now at its peak. He grabbed her wrists and forced her back onto the bed, but she didn’t oblige. Her hands may have been useless, but not her knees, feet and teeth. She kicked and screamed and kicked some more, biting at his arms.

You bitch, that hurt! he shrieked, backhanding her across the face. The blow was delivered with such vehemence that it snapped her neck like a twig. She lay there, quiescent and soundless.

Her stillness was consequently sobering. Kaitlin? he softly called, shaking her, praying for any response. But there was nothing… only her eyes staring back at him, fixed and dilated. He felt for a pulse but there was none.

His sudden dilemma was unanticipated and daunting at best, thrusting him into full panic mode. You’ve got to calm down and think, he thought to himself.

After a few moments of sobering silence, his survival mode kicked in. Fingerprints, I can’t leave fingerprints. He mentally struggled, trying to trace his steps all the way back to when he first rang her doorbell. He was almost certain that he hadn’t touched anything since the doorbell except for the phone and her. Quickly retrieving a wash cloth from the bathroom, he proceeded to wipe down the doorbell and phone. He then wet the cloth and washed her limp, naked body.

As he looked at her one final time, the reality of all that had just happened quickly engulfed him, sucking the color from his face. He had never meant for this to happen. But it had, and now he had to protect himself—and his future—at any and all costs.

en years later - Echo Lake, Colorado

The log cabin was nestled deep in the woods. It rested beside a babbling stream bordered by stones, continually painting its way through and around Mother Nature’s canvas of lush, evergreen foliage and towering Colorado pines.

Tendrils of wispy, white smoke escaped atop the fireplace stack, wafting through the crisp, cold, night air; tantalizing the senses and imagination with the scent and promise of winter, a roaring fire, hot buttered rum and rustic hardwood floors covered with bearskin rugs and overstuffed pillows.

But don’t be fooled by its outward appearance and charm, because what lurked inside those walls painted a much different picture and was nothing shy of pure evil.

***

You bitch, you stupid, stupid, little bitch! he growled as he reached in the fridge and yanked out a bottle of beer. He kicked the door shut, uncapped the bottle and took an extra-long swig.

Shouldn’t have poked her nose in where it didn’t belong! Now she’s become a fringe liability… and I damn well don’t like liabilities! he grimaced, taking another long swig. In the joint, she’d be referred to as a loose end. And loose ends have to be dealt with, sometimes in not-so-pleasant ways.

Pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor, trying to figure out how best to handle his newly acquired complication, he was startled by something he caught a glimpse of out of the corner of his eye. Instinctively, he spun toward it only to find it was his own reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall across the room.

As he slowly approached the image staring back at him, his face hardened like stone and his eyes turned icy cold. The brows above them furrowed in confusion as his trembling hand reached toward the mirror to see if it was real. It was as if he didn’t recognize his own image. Then he stopped, withdrew his hand and slowly ran his fingers through his hair as he watched the image mimic his every move.

His head slowly turned from side to side and then up and down as his fingers gently traced each of his features, like a blind person exploring a stranger’s face for the first time. His eyes neither blinked nor wavered from the image in the mirror.

The hair’s the same. His thoughts were questioning and confused. Eyes are the same, too. Dark and soulless.

"But you’re the ‘evil’ one, he grimaced with clenched jaws. It’s because of you that I have to do all these horrible things! Now you have to pay–and pay you will!" he screamed, hurling the half-full bottle of beer at his reflection.

The mirror shattered into a thousand tiny shards. "That’s what awaits you, you bastard! he snarled. And as for that nosy little bitch, well, let’s just say, what goes around comes around. Now that I think about it, maybe she’s not as much of a liability as I thought. Matter of fact, this is one loose end I’m going to enjoy dealing with!"

He turned and went into a small mudroom adjacent to the kitchen where there was a door giving access to a stairwell leading down into the basement tunnel.

"Time to get prepared. I can’t afford to forget anything. Chance does always favor a prepared mind. My plan depends on perfection… everything has to be right," he mumbled as he disappeared through the door and down the stairs.

It wasn’t long before he returned, bringing with him everything he needed to prepare for his next prey, his plan crystal clear in his mind. He walked over to the corner of the living room where there was an old, rectangular, wooden table and a couple of spindle-back chairs that he used for his workstation. Slowly and methodically he laid everything on the table in a very organized fashion, pulled out one of the chairs and comfortably seated himself. With a pad and pencil, he wrote out a checklist of things to do and in what order, laid them to one side and then donned, one hand at a time, a pair of latex gloves he retrieved from the box at the far, left edge of the table.

Must be careful… must not leave prints, he mumbled.

As each step in his preparation process was completed, he marked it off his checklist. Blow gun–check. Darts–check. Tranquillizer gun–check. Must be thorough… must not make mistakes.

Momentarily pausing from his work, he reflected on the image he had seen in the mirror. Handsome gent, he thought, respectable looking, too. Not exactly what one would expect of someone capable of such torturous and unspeakable acts. Works for me, he said, smiling smugly. Then he returned to the task at hand. Have to be prepared… have to be prepared, he kept repeating over and over again.

Finally finished, he leaned back in his chair with his fingers interlaced behind his head and exhaled a long sigh of relief. This is what I’ve waited eleven long, agonizing years for… prepared for. Now it’s your turn. The clock is steadily ticking and your time is running out! Tick-tock! Tick-tock! Tick-tock!

ail, Colorado

It was shortly before 10 p.m. on a cold and rainy Friday night. The cold front and storm had arrived earlier than predicted, leaving a lot of people unprepared and without their winter coats that evening. The wind was howling and the rain was pouring down without mercy as Patricia Dawson—Trish, as she liked to be called—pulled into the parking lot of the market she often shopped at on her way home from work. The lot was unusually dark, compliments of vandalism by some overzealous teenagers.

Where did this weather come from? It wasn’t supposed to hit for a couple of days and I don’t have my coat, Trish grimaced as she pulled to a stop in one of the vacant spaces close to the front entrance. "And they still haven’t replaced those broken security lights. This is not going to be pleasant."

Lightning temporarily lit the skies, revealing less than a dozen vehicles still dotting the parking lot. She shook her head and cracked a small grin. "Well… at least I’m not the only one who has to cope with it. Like they say… misery does love company."

No sooner had the words crossed her lips than she got more company when a black van eased into the space to her left. It parked so close it left her with almost no room to exit her own vehicle. She stared at it for a few moments while contemplating braving the weather. Now why did they have to park here? she lamented. I mean… it’s not like there’s a shortage of parking spots to choose from. They could’ve at least left an open space between us. Then all the warnings her husband had drilled into her head about never parking next to vans suddenly floated to the surface of her mind.

Probably nothing to worry about, she thought. But just to be on the safe side, I think I’ll move. Trish slowly backed her car out of the space. Not wanting to get too far from the front doors because of the weather, she re-parked only three spaces down, then banished all further thoughts of the van from her mind. It was the end of a long, tiring day with having art class after work, and she had more interesting things on her agenda to think about. This was their anniversary and Roger had promised he’d cook them a romantic late-night dinner if she’d stop and pick up the food.

As Trish reached down to unlatch the seatbelt, her friend, Shea Connors, popped into her thoughts. She must still be really upset with me. I haven’t seen her or heard from her in over a week, now. She hasn’t been in art class and won’t return any of my calls.

When a big clap of thunder jarred Trish’s thoughts back into the moment, she peered out her window at the rain still pouring down.

I really do miss her, she said softly, finally depressing the release button on her seatbelt. I’ll try calling her again tomorrow and do a little apologetic begging.

She cut the engine and removed the keys from the ignition. Damn, no umbrella either, she remembered as she grabbed up her purse and mindlessly tossed in her keys. She braced herself for the weather, exited her car, depressed the lock button on the door and shut it.

Burrrr! she grumbled out loud when the cold, blowing rain slapped her face and whipped through her hair. By the time she made her way from her car to the store entrance, her clothes were soaked and her hair was dripping wet.

Even wet, Trish Dawson was strikingly beautiful. Her five-foot-seven frame was slender and shapely with shoulder-length, reddish-blonde hair, a peaches-and-cream complexion with fine features and electric blue eyes. She thought about heading straight for the restroom to dry off a little, half-heartedly wondering if standing under the electric hand dryer would do any good. But she quickly dismissed it because she was already running late and Roger was on his way home. I’d like to at least have time to change into something dry before he arrives. Or… maybe I’ll just have nothing on, she thought.

Now that’s a thought worth hanging on to, Trish said through an impish smile and with a twinkle in her eye. With that thought still in her mind, she grabbed a shopping cart and scurried across the store to do her little bit of shopping.

Trish quickly finished up and took her place at the only open checkout lane. Fortunately, she was second in line. Unfortunately, she happened to be behind a person whom, from the looks of her cart, either did a whole lot of impulse buying or was shopping for a family of ten. Either way, she was screwed for time.

"I can’t believe my luck tonight," Trish moaned in a low voice.

With her frustration level rising, she reached into her purse for her wallet to retrieve her bankcard and ID to help speed things up only to find her bankcard missing. Her cheeks took on a pink glow at the thought of the embarrassing situation she suddenly found herself in. She just rolled her eyes. I hate being embarrassed, she thought. And yet, here I am with a cart half full of groceries, no bankcard and not enough cash on me. How much worse is this night going to get?

Shoving her wallet back into her purse, Trish decided to pull out of line and put everything back. But as she picked up her purse from the shopping cart seat and hung it on her right shoulder, she remembered placing her card in the center console of her car after purchasing gas that morning. Blowing out a sigh of relief, she looked upward, closed her eyes and mouthed the words, Thank You!

Trish located the name, Jeri, on the store tag pinned to the cashier’s blouse. Excuse me. Excuse me, please. When Trish finally got her attention, she spoke in almost a whisper. She didn’t want to draw any undesired attention to her embarrassing plight. Jeri, I’m sorry to interrupt, but it seems I have a bit of a problem here.

What’s the problem, ma’am? Jeri blurted out without the level of quiet discretion that Trish had hoped for.

Trish lightly touched her lips with her index finger to indicate that a little diplomacy would be appreciated. In a soft whisper, Trish pled her case. I know this will probably sound a bit lame, but it would appear I’ve left my bankcard in my car. It’ll take only a minute or so to get it. May I please leave my cart in line so I don’t have to start all over again? I’m really pressed for time and I promise I’ll be back well before you finish with this lady… I swear! I’m parked just outside the front doors and about three spaces to the right.

What a mouthful that was, Jeri thought, flashing Trish a look that said, Yeah… right. I’ll just bet you will.

Trish caught the look. Finally giving up on the idea of keeping the conversation low key, she smiled. Look, if I’m not back in five minutes, she said as she spread her fingers, you can send the Grocery Police after me. Deal?

Jeri managed a weak smile of her own and granted her request with a nod.

Great! Thank you, thank you so much. Trish excused herself as she squeezed by the lady in front of her and made a mad dash for the front doors. As she darted out of the store, the rush of the damp cold took her breath.

She padded across the wet pavement to her car, thankful for the temporary reprieve from the blowing rain. Wish it had done that before I went in, she thought.

As Trish reached her car, she was already hastily fumbling in the dark to retrieve her keys from her purse when something jabbed her in the neck.

Ah, perfect hit, he jeered as a sinister smile washed across his face. Lucky for me the wind hit a lull. It can storm all it wants to now. As a matter of fact… the stormier, the better. Now all that’s left to do is watch and wait. Just a little longer, my nosy little bitch, and you’ll be all mine.

Ouch! Trish yelped, quickly snatching her hand from her purse. She reached up to rub her neck and felt what appeared to be a short, tiny, metal cylinder stuck into her flesh.

What in the world? she mumbled.

As he watched his plan start to unfold, the image of what was to come massaged his senses, arousing him. He could feel the bulge in his pants swelling.

Trish flinched as she extracted the tiny cylinder. When she looked at it, she saw a needle attached to the end of it, her blood clinging to the tip.

This looks like some sort of… dart, she guessed as she twirled it between her fingers, examining it. I can’t believe someone actually shot me with a dart! This is insane… has to be some kind of sick joke!

She instinctively looked around, hoping to see where it came from; the black van successfully eluded her search under the cover of night and the darkened parking lot. Suddenly, it dawned on her to question what was housed in the tiny metal cylinder. That’s when the fear struck and struck hard. Oh my God! I’ve got to get in the car… lock the doors.

Still holding the dart in her right hand, she awkwardly reached across her body with her left and plunged it into her purse. She was grappling for her keys when the wind began to pick up and the rain started pouring down again. Her wet hair was being whipped into her eyes, stinging them and making it difficult to see. Finally, the tips of her fingers brushed against the metal dragonfly on her keychain. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Whew! she hissed, finally locking her