Nowhere to Run
Chapter 8 of 10
by Vanessa
[nemesis@graffiti.net]
6 August - 5 September 1999
Water Police HQ
"I hope Goldie and Jack get that guy," Tayler said. "He's got to be one of the creepiest criminals I've come across."
"How's that?" Frank replied.
"Well, the way he does things that are completely unnecessary," she pointed out. "Like taking his victim from a public ferry in the middle of the afternoon. What did he gain from that?"
"He got some of Sydney's finest investigating him," Helen commented.
Suddenly, Frank figured it out. He looked up in alarm. The ferry, the boat, the car... it all made sense. "Rachel," he said urgently. "She's the reason he did all that, he wanted her on the case, chasing him. What's the address of that house?"
"Frank--" Helen objected. "You're off duty."
"14 Wattle Grove," Tayler contributed.
"Thanks," Frank flashed her a smile, tactfully ignoring Helen's protests as he raced out the door, determined to catch up to the two detectives.
Rachel pounded her fist on the door again. "Dawson! It's the police, open up."
"His car's in the garage," Jack announced, having been to check it out. "Green Honda, as per his report, and it definitely fits the description the old man gave. I'm going around the back."
"If he's there, he's probably already fled," Rachel sighed. "But go for it."
She returned her attention to alternately pounding on the door, and peering through the window for any signs of life inside the house. A few minutes later, the door opened a crack, and it was Jack's face she saw.
"Jack? How did you--" She stopped short when the door swung fully open, revealing Joe Dawson standing behind her partner, holding a gun against him. "Oh, great," Rachel said sarcastically. "Let me guess, you want my gun?"
"Intelligence is one of your most admirable qualities," Dawson agreed. "Hand it over, Rachel." She did so reluctantly, knowing they had no chance any other way. "Now come on in and shut the door." She obliged, shooting Jack a questioning look and wondering how he'd gotten into this mess. He looked apologetic, but made no real response.
"You got handcuffs?" Dawson inquired. Rachel nodded. "Cuff him." As she reached for her cuffs, Dawson shoved the gun harder against Jack, causing him to grunt. "Hey, hey, remember, no sudden moves."
"Yeah, whatever," Rachel muttered.
Dawson shoved Jack to the ground in a kneeling position, forcing his hands roughly behind his back, before taking a few steps away to allow Rachel some room. "Go on," he instructed, keeping the handgun carefully trained on Jack's head, in case she tried anything.
As Rachel clicked the cuffs over her partner's wrists, she couldn't help lightening the situation with a sardonic comment. "Hey, Christey, in other circumstances, you might've appreciated this..."
"Yeah, yeah, right on," Jack replied, obviously unsettled. He didn't care about what was happening to him, he was more worried about why Dawson wanted him out of the way.
When the cuffs were on, Dawson handed Rachel a coil of rope. "Feet," he instructed. "And I'm watchin' how you tie them."
Rachel had figured a slipknot wouldn't be worth the trouble anyway. Not when Jack was already handcuffed. She knelt behind him and quickly bound his feet together, hating that she had to do this to him. She looked up quickly, apologetically, and caught his eye.
Finally, Dawson handed her a roll of tape. "Mouth."
Taking the roll, Rachel glanced from Dawson, to Jack, to the tape, and back to Jack. "I can't do this."
"I'm not giving you a choice, Detective," Dawson pointed out, stepping closer to Jack.
"It'll be okay, Rach," Jack promised.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, you're a big boy," she replied, kneeling down so they were level. "But, shit, I have to do this --" Impulsively, she kissed him. She didn't know why -- hell, he'd just dumped her, on the way over -- but it was the moment. Something about dangerous and intense situations affected her like that, and in a way she was also seeking to reassure him. She'd be okay.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Dawson lost it, kicking her in the ribs. Rachel fell, but immediately picked herself up and stood between the gun and Jack.
"You'd better not try and shoot him unless you want to kill me, too," she said.
"Just gag him," Dawson demanded, exasperated. "And *don't* try anything on me!"
"All right, I promise I won't kiss him again," Rachel replied. The remark was intended as sarcasm, but exchanging a glance with Jack, they both knew that it was true. Rachel sighed, cut a strip of tape, and placed it over Jack's mouth. Done.
"Good," Dawson smiled triumphantly. "Now that he's out of the way, we can have some fun."
Frank was approaching Dawson's house when he saw the car back out of the driveway. He recognised it as the unmarked police car; he'd been a passenger in it enough times. But he didn't recognise the driver and he didn't see Rachel lying low on the backseat. Pulling into the driveway, he yanked the handbrake on, not bothering to switch the engine off before running inside.
He found Jack still cuffed and tied up, lying on the floor. Ripping the tape away from his mouth, Frank couldn't have cared less about how much he hurt the other man. "Did he take her?" he demanded.
"Yeah, they just left, stole the damn car again," Jack replied. "That bloody hurt."
Frank immediately turned, intending to catch them up as soon as possible.
"Holloway!" Jack yelled, furious. "You're not leaving me here!"
Pausing, Frank tossed his mobile phone to Jack. "Call Helen."
"Prick," Jack muttered, but Frank was already gone.
you'll see him in your nightmares,
you'll see him in your dreams.
he'll appear out of nowhere,
but he ain't what he seems....
you're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan,
designed and directed by his red right hand...Somewhere
"Careful... Watch your step..." Rachel found it a tad ironic that Joe Dawson felt the need to guide her, when he was the one who'd blindfolded her. But then, who knew what this guy was up to? She pressed her lips together, trying to sense as much as she could from her surroundings. There wasn't much to sense. She was in the bush, somewhere, and kept tripping over rocks and potholes. She felt nervous, hoping against hope that somebody had found Jack by now, or, better yet, had figured out where she was. Even she didn't know, and she didn't trust Dawson one bit. He could do anything to her, and out here, there'd be nobody around to help her...
Finally, she stumbled into somewhere cool and dark. "All right, we're here," Dawson announced, removing the blindfold. Rachel blinked a few times, getting her bearings. The light in the room was dim; there were no windows, and the walls were rough, like clay. An underground cellar, maybe? She wasn't sure.
"Nice decor," she commented. "This part of the Bat cave?"
Dawson chuckled. "No, Batman was a good guy, remember?"
"My mistake," she apologised sarcastically, before reverting to a no-nonsense tone. "What do you want with me?"
"I've been watching you," he said simply.
"And?" she prompted.
"And I like what I see."
She frowned. "But... Why me? Why not -- I don't know, why me, when you could have chosen any other person in the city?" Oh God, now she was definitely getting scared. She steeled her nerves and took a deep breath.
"You were a challenge," he replied. "You're not as talented as Simone -- she's gorgeous to watch. But you're feisty. I like that. I like you."
"Lucky me."
"You've got an attitude problem, too," Dawson continued. "But that's also alluring, in a kinky, B&D sort of way." He grinned.
"B&D? Is that the best you can do? Why not incorporate S&M as well, you know, go all the way," she retorted. Oh shit, oh shit... She glanced around the room again. Nothing useful. She looked back at him and he was smiling at her.
"Hm," Dawson replied. "We'll see."
An icy, terrified feeling shot through Rachel's body as she began to truly comprehend the seriousness of her situation. She was here, captured by the kidnapper -- murderer -- they'd been tracking, while Jack... Jack was firmly tied up in Dawson's house in the city, with no means of calling for help. He didn't even have his mobile phone on him! How much time would have to pass before anyone got worried and started wondering what had happened to them? Would they be too late? She took another deep breath, shakier, this time.
"You'll probably be here for a while, so get comfy," Dawson motioned to a mattress in the corner of the room. "Make yourself at home, if you like. I'll be back." He walked out, shutting the door loudly behind him. She heard him fiddle with it for a moment, and upon checking, knew that it was locked tight. She sat down on the bed, feeling utterly hopeless and defeated. What now? She toyed with the bindings on her hands and wondered how she was going to get out of this. Her phone was in her pocket but without being able to reach it, it was useless. She couldn't go anywhere. She couldn't reach anyone. She was trapped -- nowhere to run.
End Chapter 8