Best Laid Plans Ch 01 3

Best Laid Plans...

It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now Colleen felt like an idiot. No, worse than an idiot. She felt like an impulsive child, and that feeling embarrassed her more than any feelings of being labeled an idiot. As the van drove away and left her by her SUV on the side of the interstate, Colleen thought about what led him to this embarrassing place.

Colleen Bens was a 27-year-old police detective, who was currently assigned to the Missing Persons Unit in the Jacksonville Police Department in Jacksonville, Florida. She joined the agency after she graduated from the University of Florida with a degree in Criminal Justice and a minor in Psychology. Colleen was also a three sports player all four years while at school, playing softball, volleyball and basketball.

Colleen had been with the PD for six years, and she had recently discovered a string of disappearances that she believed were related. Seven young women, all in their twenties or early thirties, had gone missing over the past two years and had not been seen since. All were last seen or know to be located near Interstate 95, which ran through the east side of the city. Colleen was convinced there was a serial killer hunting in their city, and she brought her theory to her sergeant and lieutenant. She was all but laughed out of the office.

They not only did not agree with her findings, but they said there was not a shred of evidence linking the disappearances. They said she had read one too many bad detective novels, her emotions had clouded her professional judgement and she was going to cause a panic if she was allowed to publicly voice her theory to the public or media.

Colleen protested and asked that they develop an undercover deployment to see if they could get a suspect to nibble at some bait. Her bosses denied her request. They said they would not approve overtime for her "hair-brained schemes". When she said she would do it for free and would not put in for overtime, this was when her sergeant and lieutenant started to get angry at her persistence. She was ordered to drop the matter in no uncertain terms.

Of course, Colleen Bens did not drop the matter. She devised her own plan to see if she could make the suspect, which she was sure was hunting in Jacksonville, show himself. She knew that all the previous women had gone missing between 7 pm and 3 am, all were last seen either driving on I-95 or stopped near an on ramp and none of their vehicle had ever been recovered as well.

She devised a plan to park her vehicle, a 2020 Jeep Cherokee SUV, on the side of the road with the hood up. She would stand outside the SUV so people passing by would see the occupant was a young woman and alone. She would, of course, have her service weapon concealed just in case her theory proved to be true and her suspect showed up looking to add to his collection.

Colleen picked a Friday evening for her deployment because she would not have to get up early the next morning and the traffic would be relatively heavy and steady all evening. Colleen was a very attractive woman and she was well aware of that fact. She was 5'9" with an athletic frame and thick wavy brown hair. She dressed in a form fitting white tank top, skin-tight indigo-colored jeggings, a black short moto leather jacket and black slouch booties with a three-inch heel. In the small of her back, she concealed her Glock 43 - a compact, seven-shot, 9mm handgun. In her purse, she had her badge, ID, spare magazines for the Glock and handcuffs.

She figured it might take a while, so she packed a cooler in the rear of the Cherokee filled with water, Gatorade and a few power bars. She parked the SUV in the center of the area all the women were last seen, opened the engine hood, put on the flashers and stood outside in plain view of anyone who drove by.

When it was almost midnight, Colleen had been there for almost five hours, and she thought she had met everyone traveling on I-95 except her phantom serial killer! At least 20 vehicles had stopped to check on her. Three very buff state troopers, a slimy road ranger who seemed more interested in her boots than her broken down SUV and every guy who was not driving with his wife at that moment in time. Most were pure lecherous - especially the state troopers! The Road Ranger, the person paid to help stranded motorists, kept staring at Colleen's boots and complimented on then incessantly. Many men, civilians, stopped and offered to help. Unfortunately, none were more than guys with overactive sex drives and/or imaginations. Some, she was sure, were truly trying to be Good Samaritans. She let them all know her boyfriend was on his way to get her or that she had called Triple A, and most left without much urging. A few needed to be told several times that she had help coming. She had even gotten three phone numbers "just in case you change your mind...."

Collen was starting to realize why her supervisors had denied her request and thought her idea of a serial killer was fanciful. She knew they were right. She knew she had let her imagination and her emotions get the better of her. She started to close the engine hood when a panel van pulled in directly behind her. The van had pervert written all over it and Colleen's senses went into overdrive. The drivers' door opened and the driver stepped out.

He was a large man - at least six-feet tall and well over 200 pounds. He was wearing a blue work shirt and pants with stained work boots. His hair was shoulder length and dirty and his beard was unkept. This had to be her guy!

"You okay, miss?" he asked as he slowly approached her.

Colleen bladed her body to the man and got ready to draw her pistol if needed. "Yes, thank you," she said. "My truck just died. I have Triple A coming. Should be here soon."

He nodded and looked at his watch and then at her. "I can take a look at it if you want."

Colleen feigned looking at her watch and said, "Thank you but Triple A should be here soon. I appreciate it."

The man nodded and turned around. "Suit yourself, miss. Have a good weekend."

He walked toward the open driver's door of the van, and Colleen kept expecting him to turn around suddenly and abruptly attack her, but he ambled up into the driver's seat, closed the door and pulled into traffic.

Now here was Colleen. Watching the van pull into traffic and feeling childish and idiotic beyond words.

What the hell was I thinking?!?!?

She thought.

She decided right there and then that she was done with this Cagney and Lacey bullshit. She was going home and was going to lock herself in her apartment for the weekend and drink several bottles of wine! Colleen spun around, intent on slamming the hood down and getting out of there as quickly as humanly possible with what little of her dignity she had intact and was staring eye to eye with a thin man in a yellow safety jacket. It was the slimy Road Ranger guy who kept gawking at her footwear hours ago.

Colleen was so startled by his sudden appearance that she gasped and jumped back. Her right hand instinctively went to her chest and she uttered, "You scared the shit out of me!"

When his right hand extended toward Colleen's head, she noticed he was holding a small canister. He depressed the button and liquid sprayed into Colleen's eyes and on her face. The pepper spray forced Colleen's eyes to shut tight and her face burned. She unconsciously covered her face with her hands and tried to open her eyes. Pain flashed through her orbital sockets and she was forced to keep her eyes tightly shut.

Before Colleen could react, she was punched hard in the solar plexus, forcing all the air from her lungs instantly. She collapsed to her knees and was immediately grabbed by the back of her neck and forced face first into the grass beside her SUV. Her head impacted with the ground and she saw stars behind her shut eyelids.

The man straddled her by sitting on the small of her back - directly on top of the concealed pistol in her waistband. Though the pepper spray, the gut punch and the impact of her head to the ground had seriously dazed her, she still reached her right hand back in an attempt to retrieve the handgun. Her wrist was grabbed, something encircled her wrist and she heard a zipping sound. She felt something loosely encompass her wrist, as her right arm was wrenched upward by the plastic restraint now slackly around her right wrist. Her arm was painfully held straight upward and behind her prone body.

Oh shit!

, she thought.

Plastic handcuffs, flexcuffs, zipties, cable ties! This guy is trying to restrain me!!!

She knew she needed to get that pistol, so she reached her left hand back toward the small of her back to try and get the weapon, but that wrist was immediately snatched as well. Colleen tried in vain to get her left hand free from the man's iron grip and get it under her jacket, and under the man's rump, to grab the handle of the Glock, but her right wrist was violently pulled down toward the small of her back. Her left wrist was unceremoniously forced into the cable tie enclosing her right wrist, and the man grabbed all her fingers in one of his hands and squeezed them tightly and painfully together. Her hands were held together in the small of her back as if she were praying. Then a zipping sound echoed in her ears as her wrists was painfully and forcefully secured tightly together. A second cable tie was quickly wrapped around the original plastic cuff and zipped down tightly cinching the restraint between her wrists.

In desperation, she yanked at the plastic zipties, but they were torqued down excruciatingly snug and she knew she could not free herself. She also knew she was not only right about a predator hunting in this area, but that she was in serious trouble because she was the guy's next victim.

She felt the man nimbly spun around, grabbed both of her feet and pulled them up toward her rump. Then, again, that loud zipping sound as her ankles were tightly bound together. The ziptie was over her boots, but the soft leather did not impede the restraint as her feet were wrenched firmly together. Her ankles were now as incapacitated as her wrists.

Then, the man spun around again, facing her head she assumed. He grabbed her hair and pulled upward. She yelled in pain as a large wad of cloth was forcefully shoved into her mouth. Next, she felt what she thought was tape being wrapped over her mouth and around her lower head several times, effectively gagging her. Then she heard the tape rip off the roll again, and he covered her burning, locked-down, closed eyes with a strip.

"Just to be sure," she heard him muttered, more to himself than to her.

Then she felt him scoot himself down to where he was sitting on her lower butt cheeks and lifted up the hem of her leather moto jacket. The Glock was plucked out of her waistband and Colleen realized this thing had gone from bad to worse.

"I was wondering what you had there, little lady," he said playfully. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't play with guns. It's undignified and unlady-like."

The man finally got off Colleen's rump and walked away. It was hard to determine his location, with her eyes blinded by pepper spray and taped over and the traffic noise from passing cars, but she thought he went toward the rear of the Cherokee. The traffic has lightened up since she first arrived, but there was still a steady flow. Maybe someone saw the commotion and called 911, but then what little hope she had deflated. Colleen knew that what had happened was shielded from anyone driving along the interstate by her Cherokee.

She thought she heard the hatchback to the Cherokee open, and then the man was back at her side. A few moments went by as nothing happened, but then he grabbed her, pulled her to her feet and placed her bound form over his shoulder. He walked quickly and she was dumped in what she realized was the open rear compartment of her SUV.

Her ziptied ankles were bent back toward her fanny, and she felt him lace something between the plastic strap around her booted feet. Then her bound wrists were also pulled back and that infernal zipping sound as her ankles and hands were hogtied together with another ziptie. She then heard the retractable rear cargo area cover shade being pulled forward and locked into place. Colleen knew this would ensure people in a large truck or semi would not be able to see her if they passed by close enough to view the rear cargo area of the Cherokee. Then the hatchback door slammed shut.

Colleen heard what she was figured was the engine hood being slammed shut. Then she heard what she assumed was the door to the driver's seat open and slam shut. After a few moments, the vehicle rumbled to life. Her Cherokee had a push start, and her key fob was in her purse which was currently sitting on the passenger seat. All this crazy bastard had to do was push the starter button and they were off to the races. She felt the vehicle pull off the shoulder and into traffic.

Colleen's face was still burning from the douse of pepper spray she had taken to the face and eyes, but that discomfort was secondary to the fear that now overwhelmed her. She struggled briefly to free herself, but this guy had wrenched the zipties so damn tight, there was no possible way she could slip free.

She rolled onto her side in an attempt to elivate the intense pain in her wrists and shoulders and bumped into the cooler she had packed. She thought that maybe there was something inside that would help her get loose, but that optimism quickly diminished when she realized only plastic bottles, foil wrapped power bars and ice were contained inside.

Just beneath the fear that she fought to keep in check, unless it entirely consumed her, she chastised her own stupidity. Not just for attempting this unsanctioned, one-person police deployment against her supervisors' orders, but how she reacted during the incident on the side of the road. Her mind was on other things when she spun around and came face to face with the Road Ranger guy. He had startled her so badly that she had forgotten all her training and the situation she had put herself into. Instead of going for her pistol, she had gasped and jumped in surprise. She never realized what the pepper spray canister was until she was already sprayed. Then before Colleen knew it, she was completely immobilized. She had not realized her hands were bound securely behind her back until the deed was done and the guy had already secured her ankles. Her face and eyes were on fire when he pulled her hair painfully and the rag was shoved into her mouth. After the tape completing the gag and blindfold were applied, she was completely immobile and trying to catch her breath, when he picked her up and tossed her in the rear compartment of her Cherokee and hogtied her. The entire incident took less than five minutes when she first saw him to when she was hogtied in the rear of her own vehicle.

Her wrists were cut and chaffed where the tight plastic bands were biting into her skin. Her ankles were saved from that because they were applied over her boots, but the soft leather boots offered no space between the zipties and her skin. Unless she got a knife or scissors or someone came to her rescue, Colleen knew for certain that she could not escape her bondage.

The gag was effective in its simplicity. The only sounds that she could manager were "mmmppfff" and grunts. More noise came from her nostrils as she attempted to breathe through her stuffy nose and the heavy residue fumes from pepper spray. Her blindfold, tape over the eyes, was grossly effective but unnecessary considering she had not been able to open her eyes since the pepper spray got her. Any attempt to crack her eyes open in the slightest was met with an intense burning pain like molten pins and needles being stuck in her eyes. And because of her training with pepper spray, she knew her eyes would be locked down for at least an hour.

The Road Ranger guy? He was the second person to stop at her faux disabled Cherokee. He was a creep, but Colleen never got the vibe that he was a danger to her. He did not appear well built or strong. He was at least two inches shorter than her, and he had a thin frame. Yeah, he continually stared at her boots and complimented her choice of shoes, but he did not gawk at her body like so many others had done this day. Hell, two of the three state troopers who had stopped practically had undressed her with their eyes! But she never thought this man was a threat. She sized him up and figured she could easily take him one on one if necessary. She easily dismissed him, and now she was hogied and gagged in the back of her SUV going to God only knows where with him and no one would miss her for at least 48 hours.

After a long while, at least an hour, but probably more Colleen surmised, the pepper spray went from an intense burn to a mild pain. Like a minor sunburn. Her eyes no longer greeted her with fiery pain when she attempted to open them, but the tape made sure she could not see anything regardless. Colleen had stopped struggling long before the burn on her face waned because her wrists were in pure agony. The plastic restraints were applied so tight that her hands had fallen asleep after only ten minutes in the hogtie.

She could tell by the Road Ranger's driving, that they had finally pulled off the interstate and were traveling on local roads. Then, after at least 30 more minutes, the road appeared to go from level and paved to unpaved with a noticeable incline. Colleen could not think of any place in Jacksonville, except for the numerous bridges, that had such a conspicuous ascent. This ramped up her anxiety even more because she had no idea where he had taken her, but they were nowhere near Jacksonville.

After at least another fifteen minutes on this unpaved and gradual ascent, the Cherokee finally stopped and the engine shut off. She heard the driver's door open and shut and then the hatchback opened and the cargo cover was moved back revealing Colleen in all her glory. At first nothing happened. Colleen pictured him just staring at her bound body and taking it all in.

Then the ziptie that had her in the hogtie was cut away, and her bound ankles flopped to the floor of the cargo area. Colleen moaned in relief as some of the discomfort she had been enduring had dissipated slightly. Before she could do anything else, her bound ankles were grabbed and she was dragged out of the open hatch. She was quickly and roughly flopped over his shoulder, as she heard the hatchback door slam closed and they started walking somewhere.

He said as he began to walk, "Please don't give me any trouble unless you want more pepper spray and to get body slammed on the hard ground."

Colleen had thought about kicking but she was physically spent, stiff and sore. Also, she knew she could not defend herself appropriately in her current predicament. She needed to bide her time and wait for an opportunity to exploit an opening - assuming her captor would mistakenly give her that opening...

She felt herself being carried around on what seemed like uneven terrain, but then she heard a door squeak open on its rusty hinges. He carried her inside, and she heard the door close behind them. He was walking on what sounded like a wooden floor. Then he stopped, and she heard what sounded like three locks disengaging. Then the sound of another door with rusty hinges opened. Next, she was being carried down a flight a creaky stair. She lost count of the steps after the tenth one but soon they were on level ground and he carried her forward several paces and stopped. After a few seconds, she heard what sounded like a prison cell door sliding opening. He walked forward and the cell door sound occurred again. As if the door was now closing shut behind them. Trying to process what was happening, Colleen was gently placed in what felt like a plush, comfortable chair.