45

David Hardin's POV

Home near Two Harbors, MN

Thursday, October 7, 2021

I heard the driveway intercom buzzing as I got out of the shower. I was cold when I returned to my car, and the car heater didn't dry me out during the half-hour drive. To make it worse, I was hungry, and there were no drive-throughs between Palisade Head and home.

I quickly dried off, pulled on a robe and slippers, and walked to the front hallway where Rocky was waiting. He'd learned the buzzer meant visitors, and visitors meant scritches and play time. He was jumping up and down at the door as I pressed the TALK button. "Who is it?"

"David, it's Gerald Costley. We need to talk right now."

Shit. I'd been in his office a few hours ago! What could have happened since then?

There was only one way to find out. I pressed the button that opened the gate leading to the private drive. While he drove in, I returned to my bedroom and pulled on some sweatpants and a T-shirt. I got back to the door as he knocked. "What's going on, Gerald?"

"Don't you listen to the news?"

I shrugged. "I prefer listening to my classic rock. Listening to the news raises my blood pressure."

Rocky was sniffing hard at his pants pocket after Gerald hung up his overcoat. "Sit, Rocky." When he did, Gerald removed the dog biscuit and gave it to him. Rocky snatched it and ran off to the living room. "They found number three this morning," he said.

"Shit. That was fast! I didn't think he'd hit for another week or two!" I walked him into the living room and turned on the television.

Serial Killer Victim #3

read the crawl on Fox News. "What do we know?"

"Victim is Doctor Raul Ibanez. The killer tied his torso to his horse and let it loose on a trail in rural Wisconsin near Spooner. His head was missing."

I smacked the padded arm of my recliner. "Those stupid fucks! I told them Ibanez was the likely victim! Why weren't they protecting him?"

Gerald held out a hand as he sat down on the couch. Rocky jumped up next to him, rolling onto his back so my lawyer could scratch him. "This isn't on you, David. You did everything you could to warn them."

I watched the coverage in silence for a few minutes while I thought about things. "How long until they come for me?"

Gerald didn't bother asking if I was a killer; that wasn't his concern. "That depends on whether they find anything connecting you directly to the crime. Can you prove your whereabouts this morning?"

"Just a minute." I went into my bedroom and grabbed the receipt out of my wallet. I handed it to Gerald before sitting down. "I stopped at Best Buy to pick up another phone because I didn't want the police and the press to find me just yet. I kept driving, finally stopping at Palisade Head to relax and think for a while."

He looked at the receipt. "Have you used this phone after purchasing it?"

I nodded. "I called Talia's mom on it. She was visiting, so I talked to her for a while. Don't use it unless we have to."

He put it in his briefcase. "I won't provide it as exculpatory evidence unless necessary. There are other ways for the FBI to track your movements."

"FBI?"

"The serial killer is interstate now, and politicians will demand the Feds take over. I expect an announcement before the evening news."

I mulled over that change. "What will that mean for me?"

"Any goodwill you may have built with the Saint Paul Police is gone. I got the feeling the FBI people in our meeting are looking at you as their main suspect, so expect pressure to ratchet up. Add in that Talia is suspended for being too friendly with you, and they'll come hard. It will be a Federal task force supplemented by existing investigators from the affected jurisdictions, and they will send people crawling through EVERYTHING again."

"Search warrants?"

"Likely, as is questioning and even an arrest. David, we're done cooperating. If they ask you ANYTHING, what do you say?"

"I want my lawyer."

"Good boy." Rocky barked at that and rolled to his stomach.

My stomach growled. "I need to make some lunch. You want a steak sandwich?"

"It's raining buckets out there, David!"

"That's why I have a cast-iron skillet." I put the skillet on the burner while I carved the fat off the ribeye steak and cut it into thin slices. I followed that by slicing up a large green pepper, medium white onion, and some whole mushrooms. "Grab some plates and a couple of hoagie buns from the bag on the counter. Chips are in the cabinet by the fridge." Gerald did his part while I tossed the fixings onto the oiled skillet. I used two spatulas to keep the improved Philly cheesesteak ingredients from burning, finally topping it with spices and provolone cheese. "Not bad for a bachelor chef, eh?"

"All this time alone has built up your kitchen game," Gerald replied. "You'll make someone a good wife someday."

"Hopefully," I laughed. "You better hang up that jacket and roll up your sleeves before you eat," I warned. "Here." I handed him one of my barbecue aprons from the hook by the door to the deck. It saved his expensive shirt at least once as we ate a relaxing lunch, watching the storms roll over the lake.

It was just after four when the buzzer for the gate sounded again. I followed Rocky to the front hall. "Hello?"

"Mr. Hardin, this is Special Agent Theodore Winters, FBI. I'd like to have a word with you."

"Do you have a warrant?"

"We have some questions related to an ongoing investigation, Mr. Hardin."

I smiled at Gerald. He fished out the twenty dollars he'd lost on whether they'd come after me with a warrant. "I take it that is a no. Come back when you have a warrant, Agent Winters. And when you do, contact my lawyer first. Gerald Costley. He's in the book."

The agent kept asking me for access, and his threats became increasingly desperate. Finally, Gerald gestured for me to stand aside. "This is Gerald Costley, Mr. Hardin's attorney. Mr. Hardin has refused your request and instructed you to contact his lawyer. You aren't doing that; instead, you are verbally harassing him and making idle threats, both of which constitute harassment. I'll discuss your behavior with the Special Agent in Charge of the Duluth Field Office, Agent Winters. I'm sure the FBI can find a posting for you in Minot, since Duluth wasn't enough of a frozen backwater to keep you out of trouble." "Mr. Costley, I just..."

"Goodbye, Agent Winters." Gerald retrieved his briefcase and suit jacket, then got ready to leave. "They won't do anything else today, but they could be back with the A-team and a warrant in the morning. Try and get some sleep, and for God's sake, don't do any interviews or phone calls."

"I'm going to work on my novel. Thanks, Gerald."

"I'd tell you to stay out of trouble, but you won't, and I like the money. Bye, Rocky!"

Rocky and I returned to my office, where I booted up my computer and pulled up my latest novel. I hadn't worked on it since Tracy's death. The vision I based this book on began in Chapter Two. I read through it as a nagging thought sat in my head.

Were my dreams prescient of the workings of a deranged mind?

Or were the books the blueprint for a deranged mind to follow?

Was it the chicken or the egg?

Could changing the book change the future?

The whole thing had a 'Terminator' feel to it. Knowing what would happen, could I stop it? Was John Conner's quote true? "The future has not been written. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves."

Or were my dreams an unbreakable destiny?

Given the reality of the first three murders, I didn't have a choice. I went to the top of the file, hit 'Edit- Select All,' and then hit the delete key. I saved the empty file, then deleted the backup.

I'd deal with the fallout later. My publisher would be furious, but I'd figure something out.

I couldn't add another word to this story, and it could never be released. Detective Talia Devine shouldn't die from a rifle bullet to the forehead.

Chapter 42

Talia Devine's POV

Edina, Minnesota

Friday, October 8, 2021

"Party favor?"

"The Society meetings would be boring without them," Mistress Tatiana replied. "Not all of our Dominants have collared submissives with them. Even for those who have them, the parties represent an opportunity for new experiences, new thrills, and new people."

"I still don't get it, Mistress."

"Not everyone in our lifestyle is in a long-term relationship," she replied. "I'll refer to Masters with female subs because they are the most common, but there are Mistresses with male and/or female subs and Masters with male ones. Only a lucky few live this lifestyle twenty-four/seven. A Dominant/Submissive relationship can be emotionally deep and satisfying, but only a lucky few are married to their subs. The best most Masters and Mistresses get is when they collar a submissive."

"Isn't that like marriage?"

She nodded. "In terms of commitment and trust, it can be deeper and more satisfying than what they find with their wives. Most of the Masters are married to normies. They have a wife to keep their home, bear children, and stand beside them in public. The wife gets the legal status, while a collared sub is like a mistress. She can NEVER be out in public with him. Collared slaves have no legal status, protection, or financial support if their Master rejects them or dies. They turn over complete control over their lives to their Master. If they work, he controls the money. Some live full-time as slaves to their Master. A few submit to the married Master and Mistress of the house, sleeping in or by their bed."

"It seems like a bad deal for them, Mistress."

"You're new to a submissive life, Talia. There are some whose need to serve is so deep that only total surrender to the will of the Master fills the need. When done right, the Master reaps the sexual and service benefits of her willing slavery while she has him to provide for her. She has no responsibilities and no worries. Her entire purpose and existence revolve around serving his needs and desires. From her service, she finds pleasure and satisfaction. Do you see why this bond can be deeper than marriage vows?"

She summed up what I felt when I was with David. It was addictive, knowing I didn't have to worry about anything else but him, and that freed my sexuality. I nodded. "Mistress Tatiana, was Tracy Hardin collared?"

"She joined us almost four years ago as an uncollared submissive. She caused quite a stir at her first meeting. Almost all bottoms start as party favors or guests of a Master or Mistress. They have the protection of a temporary collar and don't need the investment that comes with joining on their own."

"Is a temporary collar important?"

"Very. There is a wide swath of personalities and kinks in our society. Some limit their play to the meetings, while others live this every day. I know a few Dominants on the deep end of the scale. They believe that as Masters, any uncollared sub is available for them to use or take. Tracy was too well-known to disappear and was strong enough to stick up for herself. She offered a Master her collar, and he accepted her. We have rules for our behavior, Talia, but we can't control what happens later. There are stories of women disappearing right after leaving an event, never to be seen again."

"That's horrible."

"It's not something I condone, nor does the Society. No Master may touch or play with a submissive at our events unless they have the permission of the person who holds the collar."

"Not the girl's permission?"

"Submissives don't consent. They have safe words and limits, negotiated with their Master. For party favors, the rules come from an agreement they sign with the Club. These limits are known and strictly enforced during play. We use them as greeters, wait staff, messengers, or for demonstrations of various kinks and skills."

"Greeters? Like Walmart?"

Mistress laughed. "Our greeters hang up the coats, secure valuables, and provide members a complimentary blowjob or pussy licking to start the evening off right." Nope. Not like Walmart. "Party favors are part of the entertainment we provide members. At midnight, the party favors get auctioned off for the remainder of the party. The winning bidders may use them as they wish, provided they remain within those boundaries and respect their safe words."

"That sounds dangerous, Ma'am."

"It's the best part of the night for everyone. The Party Favor keeps the auction amount, and they get used hard for a few hours. Bondage, whippings, wild sex, threesomes, bukkake, gangbangs? All these occur, and the Party Favors and collared subs love it. Variety is the spice of life, and we provide a safe place to explore. It's easy to find out if they are compatible with a potential Master, and most collared subs started that way."

"Mistress, what happens if the Dominant goes too far?"

"Safe words. Utter them, and play stops immediately. That's the rule in my dungeon and at Society events. The Dominants understand what they are bidding on before the auction, including their preferences and limits. If they go beyond the agreed limits, the session stops, and their auction fee doubles. If the sub is injured, they face a disciplinary board, which can levy a fine or suspend them."

"And if the Party Favor doesn't follow through, Mistress?"

"If the party favors safe words on something within their limits, they may lose all or some of their auction fee and may not be invited back."

"What kind of fees are we talking about, Mistress?"

Mistress Tatiana waved her hand as if it didn't matter. "We have many rich and powerful members, Talia. Members who think nothing of spending a thousand dollars on a meal or a bottle of wine. A great experience is worth much more. Bids can reach over ten thousand dollars for the right girl, and starting bid is a thousand dollars."

"Damn. And this isn't prostitution?"

"The girls are already giving away sex, so they are selling exclusivity. It is a way for our members to give something back to them for their time and service."

Time to get back to the case. "Mistress, what happened with Tracy Hardin after she joined?"

"It didn't take long before she found a good Master. She offered a collar, and he accepted her."

"Lars?"

"I can't say who it was, Talia. He is still a member." That pesky non-disclosure agreement. "Lars joined a little over a year ago, shortly after his contract got traded to the Minnesota Wild. The first time they met, sparks flew despite her existing relationship. Her attraction was instantaneous, and she returned her old collar before midnight. The next meeting? Tracy was wearing Lars' collar. Their relationship was different; they dated openly, and then they got engaged! We all thought she was one of the lucky ones. She'd be his loyal wife in public and his naughty little slave slut in private."

I still didn't have confirmation that Tracy Hardin had a relationship with Michael Klinesmith outside the office, which I needed to prove if he was the killer. Time to shift gears. "Mistress Tatiana, how did Allison Decker die if Party Favors are kept safe?"

"Wait here." She walked off with Colleen for a quick conversation. "I've told you about the non-disclosure contracts involved with the Society, Talia. Lacking questions by police about a crime committed in my presence, I cannot name names."

"Allison Decker was suffocated to death at your Society party, Mistress. The police are calling it a murder. That qualifies! You need to tell me what you know and now."

Her face changed, and her voice was cold. "I didn't see a crime, and you are not a current member of the Police Department, Miss Devine. You can't force me to do a DAMN thing, and I'll whip your ass until you beg me to stop if you try to top me from the bottom again!" I gulped, looking down at the table.

Colleen interrupted. "My client will speak to what she knows, without any names. As this is all hearsay, none of it will be admissible in court, and it won't be enough for a warrant. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mistress Tatiana gathered herself. "At the September meeting, Allison was purchased at auction by Mr. A. There was a bidding war because Allison was the only pain slut in attendance, and two of the Masters have a heavy hand."

"Pain slut, Ma'am?"

"Some submissives convert pain to pleasure in their brains. They love to be whipped and beaten, often orgasming during the punishments. They are junkies for pain and will allow permanent damage before they safe-word. A woman who can take that beating and smile about it later? She went for fifteen thousand dollars." Mistress was nervously stroking her crop. "Just after two in the morning, Mr. A called for medical help from one of the private rooms. I ran to help, along with a few other members. Mr. A said she stopped breathing while they were having sex. We finished removing her from the stocks, and I started administering CPR."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're qualified for CPR?"

"I whip old married men around my dungeon, Talia. I keep an AED in my first aid cabinet, and my Red Cross certifications are active."

That made sense. "What happened then, Ma'am?"

"We couldn't resuscitate her. Mr. B volunteered to drive her to the emergency room, so some people carried her downstairs while I caught my breath. The next day, her death was in the papers."

"Moving a dead body and faking a crime scene are felonies, Mistress."

"Neither occurred on the grounds of a Society function. I witnessed no wrongdoing, so I cannot provide any names. It would ruin my reputation and my finances, and it's not like there is a Dungeon Mistress Pension Program." I snorted, then quickly got serious again as she raised her crop. "If you want to know more, I know a way for you to access the Society meetings."

The thought made my insides twitch. "I can become a member?"

She shook her head. "That would require a full background check, one a police detective is unlikely to pass," she said.

Colleen pulled another paper out of her briefcase. "Fill this out, and we can get you into tomorrow night's event as a Party Favor."

Chapter 43

Thomas Brickline's POV

Brickline Construction Company HQ, Downtown Minneapolis

Saturday, October 9, 2021

Downtown Minneapolis sat mostly empty this Saturday morning. Emergency meetings of the Society Board of Directors were exceedingly rare; in my ten years on the board, this was the second one I had attended. Each of the Directors had come here separately, leaving no means to track us into one location.

Tatiana had called me first, requesting I organize the emergency meeting without giving me any hints of the reason. I volunteered to host the group in the conference room attached to my fortieth-floor office. I had the advantage of a large commercial building with no security station and access to multiple parking garages and adjoining buildings. Each board member could find a reason to be downtown without raising suspicions. I sat in my spot with my back to the window overlooking Target Field as the final member sat down.

Mistress Tatiana sat to my left. Next to her was Mistress Pauline, a thin woman in her seventies whose face could turn rain to snow at a glance. She and her submissive husband ran a successful real estate management company. Master Tony was on my right; in his day job, he was the second most powerful man in the State Senate. Judge Christopher was the final member; he was a sitting justice on the State Supreme Court. Nobody looked pleased to be here, especially with a Society meeting tonight that would run to the wee hours of the morning. I smacked my hand on the table. "This emergency meeting is called to order. Mistress Tatiana, the floor is yours."