TASKFORCE

TASKFORCE

Part Five

Chapter Eighteen

       Leaning back, he rests against the metal table tilted at an angle and locked,  The flat surface hard, he glances from one girl to the other as his left arm rests bowed across the top of his head while he casually draws on his cigarette.  Both girls now securely mounted, identically bound on each crosstie, the eye masks and ball gags make it hard to tell the one from the other.  Their naturally tanned naked bodies again seem more like sisters, even closer to twins then cousins.  The thin cropped streak of pubic hair on the daughter’s tautly stretched body’s about the only difference, that is except for the glistening gold nipple stud.  Then again, their parents married into the same families, the physical similarities make sense.  Fuck who knows, maybe over there, brothers marry sisters, sisters marry uncles, uncles marry…. Who the fuck knows!”

       Watching the daughter’s spread-eagled body tremble, the agitated expression on her face with the tears still streaking down from beneath her mask as her body arches outward from the post, her hands, feet concealed back behind the pillar, she’s obviously the weak one.  On the other hand, the cousin’s hard to read.  She’s either dangerously conniving, or fucking flat out scary.  Fucks like a champ, antagonizing, manipulating, he wonders if she really is that fucked up, or if she thinks she’s so smart she can fool him into dropping his guard, either way she’s a fucking dangerous cunt, even as young as she is.

       Even now, as tautly stretched as she is, identically bound like her cousin, her face, body shows no signs of distress, almost the opposite, like the bitch is trying to flaunt herself even more.  Little subtle gyrations, moves that cause her tits, her hips to almost seductively sway instead of trembling like her cousin’s, her lithe  body oozes sensuality. Hell of a fuck, too.

       A last draw on the butt, tossing it toward the floor, he again just glances back and forth at the girls as he rises, stretches.  It’s late, might be too late to get a few Coney’s he thinks to himelf.  Glancing at his watch, he belches.  Shit, looks like it’s going to be a bag of white castles, sliders with onions, maybe a sack of fries too.  Stepping between the two girls, a final check on their bindings, he flicks the light switch as he steps through the door, locks it behind him.  Out the building, into the turquoise car, close to the last time it’s fucking being used.  Cranking it over, he listens to the ignition finally respond.  A light puff of smoke out the exhaust, he’s off to get his burgers… and fries.

       Back home, his late night snack consumed; his police radio in the charger but still on, he hears the dispatch for missing persons.  The address familiar, stamped in his mind, he knows the game is on.  Fresh clothes making himself somewhat presentable, he wants to get there in time for the beat cop to take the reports.  Firing up the Vette, leaving the fucking Hyundai at the curb, heading toward the radio run smiling to himself, he’s going to get to meet the family under his conditions, get to know them a little bit, let them know him more then they’d like.

       The upscale tree lined neighborhood quiet, just a couple lights on in the houses here and there; he pulls behind the marked cruisers, parks.   Turning the headlights off, both flipping slowly down and under, seeing the inside door of the main entrance open behind the glass lined screen door, he strolls up the stone walkway curving from the drive up to the house.  A uniform female standing in the living room, clipboard in hand, three civilians in the room, he raps on the metal frame, allows himself in.

       His gold shield on a chain swaying from around his neck, he steps directly toward the officer.  “Whatcha’ got officer.”

       A hesitant look, seeing the shield, she holds her pen steady as she glances at her notes.  “Two… Two females missing, Sir…. Their parents are right here.”  Glancing toward a couple women, a man, she continues.  The mothers and a father… They say the girls should have been home by one o’clock… No contacts, cell phones off, they haven’t heard a thing.”

       Glancing toward the women, he asks.  “Ever done this before?”

       A couple slow nods from side to side, both women sitting on a couch, hands folded, the man stands behind them.  Just like his picture, an asshole, his arms crossed, his look almost of anger as obviously he’s not pleased with the female officer’s services as he stares daggers across the room.

       “How about you… Anything at all to add?... To help with?”  The detective breaks the ice, glancing toward the man, sizing him up.

       “No… no except….”

       “Except what?”  The detective asks, getting into a flow, enjoying the look of panic on the women’s faces, a different look on the man’s.

       “Except … If anybody’s hurting my… Our girls… These fucking Americans!...”

       “Woooo!”  Stopping him in mid sentence, seeing he’s going to be easy to get under his skin, it’s time to antagonize him, and them, time to put on the insulted look.  “Just to let you know… I’m American… I’ve bled for this country…”

       Being cut off himself, the man continues.  “It’s… I mean we’re being accused of making a living and now shit’s happening… And someone’s fucking with the wrong people.

       The uniformed female officer visibly nervous, the women as upset as they are about the girl’s disappearances still appearing somewhat intimidating, the detective can’t help fueling the fire.  “Listen… This officer is here to take your report… To help… I’m her superior… Now… Let’s get this part done without any more off the wall comments.”  Shaking his head, glancing toward the young officer, her tits not bad, even under the vest protector, he gives her a subtle wink as he adds.  “She’s only trying to help.”  Grabbing the clipboard, her pen, he stares at the women.  “Now… I see we have their ages… General descriptions… Last seen in a black SUV.”  Again smiling toward the officer, actually toward her chest, he adds.  Very good… So far… Here’s the license number.”  Glancing up, his eyes locking with the man’s, he asks.  “Any discernable differences, tattoos… Some…”

       “What?... What you mean?... No of course not… What you think these girls are?... Tramps?”

       “Excuse me… There’s a checklist for everything I’m asking… And it doesn’t matter what I think they are… Does it?”  The detective asserts, watching for their reactions, knowing he’s walking the line on pissing them off.  Seeing the redness in the women’s faces, the one without her husband at home, probably not even in the states, is actually pretty damn good looking.  Can’t be more then mid thirties, nice tits under that cotton night robe partially open at the top; Damn, he sees where her daughter gets her rack.  Distracted, he thinks for a moment before adding.  “Now any jewelry… Piercings… Things like that?”

       “What the Hell does that matter?... No!… No piercings… No jewelry!”  The man grunts, leans foreword between the two women on the couch while shaking his head.

       Glancing toward the women, noticing a look on the one, the detective pries.  “Nothing?... You sure neither has done anything at all to their bodies?... No tattoos… No piercings at all… Anywhere on their bodies… Maybe concealed even?”

       Watching the man’s face glow from the corner of his eyes, starring directly toward the woman with the expression on her face, he adds.  “Where… What?”

       “She… Althea has a… A piercing…”

       “Althea?... She your daughter?”

       “Yes… Yes and his!”  She nods, glances toward the man, his flushing face then glancing toward the woman beside her.  “Ariel’s our niece… Her daughter.”

          Thinking of the gold nipple stud, the firm rack he’d just played with a few hours ago, he feels the tingling in his stomach, the excitement of prying silly ass embarrassing family secrets from these assholes, like a nipple stud’s a big deal.

       “A piercing huh?”  He quips as he flips a page, sketches an almost stick figure on a blank edge.  “Where?”

       “Where?”  The woman asks as she again glances at her angry husband.

       “I need to know for the diagram… Where’s her piercing… Her ears… Nose… Her cheek?... Her lip?... Where?”  Deliberately rattling off different areas, waiting for her answer like pulling teeth, he can’t wait to jump on it, obviously knowing exactly where it is.

       “Her… Her breast.”  She almost whispers, her hand reflexively pressing across her left side near her shoulder.

       “Her… What?”  He loudly asks, glancing toward the blushing female officer, probably to young for this job, but getting an education on interrogating.  “Did you say breast?” He adds again in an overly loud tone as he glances toward the man, his reddening face.  “Oh… I guess dad didn’t know.”  Again glancing down toward the clipboard, holding back his chuckle, knowing the guy’s fucking livid, he presses on, glances toward the woman.  “Where at on her breast?”

       What?... Where?”

       “Yes… For the diagram Mam…  Exactly where is the piercing?”  He asks as he flips the clipboard toward her, just for a moment, flips it back.

       “On… On her… Her nipple… Of course!”

       “Did you say nipple Mam?... On her nipple?”  He asks, his voice almost cracking while he feels his ribs aching as he forces himself to maintain a straight face, his shoulder deliberately bumping against the female officer’s.  “Did you mean in her nipple?”

       The sounds of the man grunting with anger, the almost quietness of the seated women, he can’t help continuing, setting her up.  “Which?”

       “Which… What?”

       “No… No… Not wristwatch… Mam… Which breast… Which nipple?... Not wrist watch… Which nipple is pierced?... For the report!”

       Head tilted forward as his eyes remain glued to the clipboard, struggling mightily to keep the tears from dripping across his cheeks, he senses, feels the discomfort of the officer next to him as she even turns away, glances toward the open door.

       “The… The left… I think… Maybe the right… Okay?”

       “Please?... Oh… Yes Mam…  It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you… Yes Mam!”  He politely answers, proud as Hell with his Don Knotts impersonation of a Mayberry cop, knowing the rooms heated up another twenty degrees.  “Now!”  Almost having to piss, biting his lip, he finally gets his next question out.  “For the report… Is she wearing any identifiable jewelry in her piercing of her nipple on her left… Or right breast?... Just for the report Mam.”

       “Jesus fucking Christ!”  The red faced man practically screams as his shoulders lurches above the back of the couch.  “What the Hell does any of this have to do with my Goddamn daughter missing?... Goddamnit!!”

       “Sir!”  The detective admonishes… Settle down… I’ll… I’ll explain if you really need to know.”  Great, the asshole’s taking it hook, line and sinker, he thinks to himself, building for the grand finale, glancing straight toward the mothers.  “The reason is… In case of identification purposes if… If we find her dead!”

       The women’s faces ashen, the man’s ready to explode, a vein zigzags visibly across his forehead.  Handing the clipboard back to the female officer, the detective adds.  “Finish this up… Find out what kind of nipple jewelry… Get it turned in.”  Turning toward the door, he again nods toward the officer.  “And see if there’s anything else you can help them with….Okay?”

       The screen door slamming behind him, heading for his corvette, he continues to bite his lip, the look on the female officer’s face priceless as he leaves her with the parents.  Driving toward the club, the abandoned SUV, sometimes it’s really fun being a cop, and, he’s going to have to look up that officer, buy her a drink, she’ll need it.  Damn, might even lick her pussy too.

       A twenty minute drive, pulling past the club, he sees the SUV in all its glory, alone in the lot.  Figuring it’ll be teletyped and broadcast as soon as the female officer finishes assisting the distraught parents, without some help, the fucking car probably won’t be found for another week.  But, at least they picked the right club for him, they’re too fucking cheap here to have lot cameras, it’s good to know your businesses.  A leisurely drive home, maybe a few hours sleep with the police radio on just in case the car’s found like it should be and everything’s going like clockwork.

Chapter Nineteen

       A couple, three hours, he can’t believe it, a dispatch to the club, a reported missing vehicle located.  Holy shit batman, a cop that wasn’t asleep on the night shift!  Jumping off the couch, in his car, a brief few minutes he’s pulling onto the lot, the yellow tape surrounding the SUV.  A couple marked cruisers, a supervisor; he casually steps from the Vette, walks toward the SUV.  “This the car?”  He asks, the uniformed officer turning to face him, noticing the gold shield swaying from the chain.

       “Yes Sir!... Why?”

       Glancing toward the supervisor, a minority promoted Sergeant, stepping toward the SUV, he lifts the tape.  “I’m working the missing persons… Inventory it yet?”

       “No… No… Not yet.”  She answers, stepping next to the tape, placing her hand on it, blocking him.

       “Haven’t looked for their purses, personal property?... Anything?”  He asks, more of a scolding… The damn doors locked?”

       “No… No Sir!”

       “These girls are missing… The two that were in this car…  Shouldn’t we take some initiative?... Trying to find something to find them?... You know the first twenty-four hours are critical… Don’t you?... Fuck Sergeant… After that they could be dead or something!”

       “Wha… What?... Yes… Yes Sir!”

       “Sergeant!”  Staring her down, easily intimidating her, he glances toward the SUV.  “What should we do?” 

             Flipping the rear door open, she begins searching, glancing under the seat, behind it.

       “Need some help?”  He asks, holding back a grin as he opens the front driver’s door.  “I’ll check under this seat.”

       Front, back, flipping the seats forward, checking under the visors, hands everywhere, the car’s empty, nothing.  Stepping away, glancing back towards her, he suggests.  “Might as well get a wrecker… Tow it in for processing.”

       Hopping in his Vette, off to the warehouse, he grins as he turns on his radio, Louie Armstrong’s ‘What A Wonderful World’ being rasped out in all the glory of the gravely voice of the greatest trumpeter ever.  Fighting an urge to smoke in his classic to the classic, he’ll wait until he gets with the girls.  Glancing in his rear view mirror between shifting through the gears and tires squealing over the asphalt, back toward the distancing lot, he’s satisfied with the knowledge that if there was the slightest chance of any trace left in the SUV; he’s taken care of his DNA being suspected.  Damn, affirmative action’s great!  It works for everybody!

       Thinking of the girls, more of the parents, especially the asshole, he knows he’ll have a private one on one with him; he’ll make sure of that when the time’s right.  On the lighter side, that big tittied milf sister-in-law of his can use some consoling, and not too far off in the future.  Fuck it, slipping a Marlboro in his mouth, flipping in the pristine lighter beside the radio in the dash; it’s time for a fucking smoke before the donut shop.  After all, its morning, the sun’s rising in the cloudless skies of blue.  Yes, what a wonderful fucking world it is, Satchmo.

End Part Five