(Thanks guys for all the helpful reviews. I appologise for the chapter switch, I should have hecked it first. I'm not going to murder anyone in this chapter. I have removed all these charaters from JE and I plan to put them all back in one piece. This and the next chapter are extremely gruesome, but for every pain Steph sufferes, Joe will do double. -Esentrik0 -)
I was relieved that I poped the hatch open. Only, two pairs of fingers curled over the edge and pulled it the rest of the way up. The sun was still hours from rising, and I could see their faces perfectly. Norman looked on cooly, and reached an arm in to grab me. Joe looked like he was going to be sick.
"Morelli?" Junkman asked, turning to his partner.
Joe snaped back to attention and pulled my out of the trunk. I reached behind me and grabed onto the badge. I stabbed blindly at Joe with the sharp end, but he dodged every attempt. Joe got angry and hit my square on the cheek. The impact sent my new toy flying. I fell to my knees, felt a prick into the back of my neck, right above my spine.
The world spun around me. I was still being drug along, first across a driveway and then behind a six-foot high brick wall. I was awake enough to be aware of my surroundings. Suddenly, my surroundings, namely the big metal pole, moved, and the spinning world went black.
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My head pounded heavily. Rain pelted the steel-shingles that made up the room of the building. I lifted my head a quarter of an inch and looked around the room. It hadn't been cleaned in ages by the looks of it. The pugnet odor from the whiskey and body fluids quickly filled my nostrils. With one sudden move, I pulled the shirt up over my nose and covered it with my hand.
My shirt smelled like Ranger's. I let out a weak cry. Ranger. How bad was he? I assumed he was shot with the same junk I was, probably much stronger though. I had to escape!
I wriggled around. My feet were hog tied and were absolutely useless. My face burned as it scraped the worn carpet. I felt like a worm from a nueclear factory that grew arms. I hit a tiled floor finnaly and glided across it without a problem. Then I stopped.
I turned to see what was wrong, and found a face full of a man's work boot. Stunned, I yelped in pain and lashed out, catching the kicker in the crotch. I held on for a second and waited for the pain to stop. It got to a bearable point so I relenquished the kicker's pride and looked up. A pair of slightly shocked, pained, and ill eyed looked down upon me. The cop face was in place, but there was nothing cop about him. He was pure madman.
"You do that," I huffed, spitting out the blood that collected in my mouth, "to all your victims."
I sat up and rubbed my face. That was proceded by more blood spiting, and I figured I split my lip or brok my nose or something. I couldn't feel much, but the rug burn was still intence. "What the hell was that for anyway?" I growled.
"For not answering my calls, for the utterly embarrasing sceen at the station, for running off to Ranger..."
"Hold on. Embarassing? You suppose that call I got from Junkman was a little embarrasing? The breaking down in front of Ranger? I was crying because of YOU! In front of HIM!" I realized I was making the floor shake and I was making no sence at all.
"HE loves me. The look on his face when I was crying about YOU was just...devastating...Joe." My voice stuggling to find the right word.
"He ever tell you the?" This came not from Joe, but from Junkman, who had just come into the room carrying a paper bag.
"What's it to you?" I spat back.
"I wouldn't play that game. I have control of your meals." He ran his finger down my forehead and off the tip of my nose. He jiggled the bag above my head and then turned for the door, my breakfast in hand.
"Didn't answer his question, Cupcake." Joe said once Carver left.
I remained silent, the anger building. I realized from the second I was tossed from the window that my death was approaching. But now, it hit me that it would be a long, painful and pitiful one. "No." I said, not even really saying anything at all. I knew I said something, but I couldn't hear it.
He heard me though. "Why'd you run to him then?"
"You took my there. I couldn't run anywhere." I turned away from his face.
"Before that," His words were hot on my back. "When you ran from my place. You could have gone anywhere, but you chose Ranger's."
I stood up, bracing myself on the wall because I couldn't hold myself up. My legs were still bound, but I could feel them loosening. "You've never been kidnapped by," I bent over and tugged at the knot untill it came loose, "a killing lunitic," I tossed the rope at him, " and your cop bofriend!" I steadied myself.
"You're right. I haven't." He said, tossing the rope aside.
I turned away and shook my head. He never was in trouble. Even with me, the worst he got was a grafittied, and that was because Eugine Brown was catapulted off the Buick. That was a funny moment in itself. Hey, how many people can admit to throwing a Slayer off their car and be telling the truth?
"Cupcake?" Joe brought me back to reality.
"I'm not cupcake." I protested.
"Fine. What's the smile for anyway?" He scoffed, leaning against the wall and kicking one foot on top of the other.
"Thinking of how bloody your hide will be when I get out of here."
"That's impossible. You have no clue where you are. All you know is that you're trapped in a house with two men who both trained to shoot and kill." He laughed.
This was an unconfortable personality of Joe. He'd never been mean, to this extent. Ok, so he hit a squirrel in high school and backed up over it, but he was 17. "Funny. I had other plans."
"Good luck." He moved in for a kiss, but I kicked him hard in the shin, and he backed out the door.
I looked around. I was in a fully furnashed living room. The furnature was poor, but it was still all there. I moved around and ivestigated the couch. Aside from the red and yellow stains and knife slashes, it looked almost functual.
A small TV sat on a few off-color bricks. A window was boarded shut behind it. Matching stains for the couch traced the floor. The walls were magically spotless. I prowled around. I was on the carpet, and I could see the drag marks I made when I pulled myself around.
The tile led into a little kitchen. There was a small fridge, the handles wraped in layers of duct tape. A microwave was pushed into a corner and the stove had rusted over. I pulled through a few drawers. Sharp knives, rows of them. I could do some damage with thoughs knives. I'd need to keep that in mind. I retreated to the living room, afraid of what I'd find next.
I sat on the floor infront of the couch. No body in their right mind would get me to sit on it. People were probably brutalized and murdered on that couch. I shuttered and turned on the TV. The news came through, even though it was heavy with static and you couldn't understand it.
But I could see a picture of myself in the top corner. It was just my face, and the picture was recent. I had a bruise running the length of my face. To tell you the truth, I was only worried about my hair. I didn't make a big scene over the nicks and bruises. I smacked the side of the television and turned the volume up a notch.
"More from Greg Harmon on this story." The desk announcer said, and the screen switched to a tall, hairy guy.
The hairy guy was standing out front of Mama Manoso's house. The sun had begun to rise over the top of the house. I realized I had been missing for just a few short hours and it was already all over Trenton. "Earlier this morning..."
I tuned him out. I scanned the background for Ranger or any of the guys. Besides, I already knew the story, I was living it. "Mrs. Manoso, do you know what happened?"
The camera cut to Ranger's mother. "Other than the footprints through my garden and the fact that Stephanie Plum is missing, no I don't. I was sound asleep, like most of Trenton." She sounded irratable and she was still decked out in her flannel nightgown.
"Any clue who the footprints belong to?" The reporter asked.
"My son Ricardo and his team are working on that now. They suspect Joeseph Morelli and Norman Carver, but they can't go pointing fingers."
The reporter smiled and laughed a little despite there was a life at stake. "You sound like the model mother, Mrs. Manoso."
Contact information flashed on the screen: "If you have any tips on the where abouts of Stephanie Plum or any of the accused, please contact local police."
From the contact info, if jumped back to the news table. "Joe Morelli was last seen last night at 6 p.m. leaving the police station. He was driving a brown crown victoria with the licence plate number LCU-876. He also owns a navy blue pickup with licence plate number TTS-385. The pickup has an extra antenna and a "I'm a cop" bumper sticker."
And then to the weather. It was going to rain in Trenton, all day. The high would be a whopping 64-degrees and the low--. Before I could see the low temperature, the TV was shut off. "No fair." I whined and lowered my gaze to the floor.
Four perfectly shined boots stood in front of me. I shook my head angrily trying to dismiss the men. Instead, they pulled my up, one huge hand around both of my upper arms. I did what any girl would do-screamed. This bought another strong hand over my mouth. Another gut instinct, I bit down hard on it.
Junkman screamed and dropped me. Joe pulled me closer with his one arm and whispered "Get out of here!" and then shoved me towards the door.
I ran, lost in all the confusion. I caught a flight of steps and took them two at a time. I found a steel metal door. I tugged at the handle with all my weight. It was locked. From a flight of steps above me, shots were fired. A bulled bounced off the door and breezed my shoulder as I turned to run again. The minute I hit the third flight, I could hear someone bounding down. Blood soaked the left side of my shirt. I looked at it for a quick second. That was going to be a bitch of a stain.
I sliped off the last step and bounded down a long hallway. It was angelic white, and reminded me so much like the mental hospitals. There were hundreds of doors, each one locked. My strides echoed off the empty walls. I was soon at then end of the hall with no where to go. A gun cracked at the other end and I let out a gasp of pain before fainting to the floor.
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Blood ran down my chin. I pulled to wipe if off, but I heard the chank of metal hitting metal and my movement stopped. I pulled at my other hand and I got the same reaction. The room dimly lit by a dungeon style lantern. The wall surrounding the room was a rough brick. And it was cold. I shuttered, sending most of my body against the chains.
Directly infront of me was a door. It too looked like it was pulled from a midevil dungeon. There was a bloddy cot shoved up against the wall furthest from me. The room smelled like murder. I wouldn't imagine it used otherwise. There was a furious knock on the door before it was forced open. Light flooded into the room and I could see a stone floor of the same quailty as the bed.
"You little..." Junkman stepped into view and hit me hard in the stomach as he finished that sentence.
I choked and tried to fall. But I was chained to the wall, my hands fanned out to the side and my legs hanging a foot off the ground. Acid crawled up my troat, and I spit a nasty yellow liquid at Junkman. He took a step backwards and missed it. I frantically tried to clear the taste of bile out of my mouth and missed all the movement going on.
Junkman reached for my neck, pushing it against the wall. My back went with it and I could feel the rough edges of the brick tear holes in the back of my shirt. Then into my skin. All the while, I was gasping for air. Carver finally ripped his hand away from my troat. Tears were rolling down my cheek and I concentrated on getting my breathing to a normal level. I strained against the chains, and I could feel the cuffs rub away the skin on my wrist.
I violently shook the tears from my eyes. And finally, when my vission was clear enough, I realized that Joe was sitting on the bed watching my with a bemused expression, and Junkman had leveled a gun at my forehead. "Any last words?" He asked calmly.
I turned from him to Joe for a minute. He made a puppy dog face that made his eyes get glassy and his scar very noticable. But he didn't look the least bit sorry. "You're a pig Morelli!" I screamed.
"It runs in the family." He shrugged.
"What a loving last sentence." Junkman said and sliped the safety off the gun. "Anything you want me to say to Mr.Manoso?"
"Hey, wait up pal." Joe jumped at that sentence. "What are we going to send him?"
Carver rested his gun hand freely on Morelli's shoulder. "It would be nice for him to get something to remember her by."
They exchanged grins that made me sick. And I got sicker when I realized that the man I once loved was going to ship body parts off the the man I love now. Revenge can only go so far. I sniffeled as another wave of tears was about to fall.
"Her hair's to pretty" Joe commented, stepping out and tucking a strand behind my ear.
I jerked and reopened the wrist wounds. The hair fell back infront of my eyes. "Her finger is too old. It's been used too much in the mob movies." Junkman laughed alittle. "Can't send a head. It's too heavy and it won't look good if I make swiss cheese out of it."
"That narrows it down. Not much left is there?" Joe said.
I had that sick feeling again and threw up. My head was bent and it came out my nose. Joe stepped up and whiped my chin with the sleeve of my shirt. I took the opportunity to lash out at him. He fell backwards into the mess on the floor and moaned. "Great, I have apple-a-la-Stephanie on my ass." He muttered and left the room.
"There's always an ear. Do you want me to put an earing in it before I send it?" Junkman taunted.
I squealed and Junkman pointed the gun back at me. He pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, announcing to the entire room that there were no bullets to fire. Carver angrily ripped the gun apart and cursed like a sailor. He tossed the gun to the floor. "You got lucky." He stated and stomped off, pulling the door behind him leaving me in the dark.
I was going to church if I ever got out of here. I'd pray for three straight days. My heart beat got back into its normal rythmic patterns. My arms wanted so badly to drop back to my sides, but the restraints wouldn't let them. The feeling to my feet was gone. I twitched my face, and I could tell there was or had been a bullet in my left cheek. I used my tounge to tenderly prod it, and came to the conclusion that it was still there. The stinging in my shoulder had long passed. With all my other pains, that one had just become the least important.
Joe came into the room quietly, shaking a bag of food. "What it is?" I coraked weakly.
"Its a balogna sandwich and a plastic tub of apple sauce, take it of leave it." He grumbled.
"I don't have much of a choice. You going to feed it to me or free me?"
Without a word, I watched his shadow tuck the goodie bag under his arm and pull a set of keys out of the other. The pressure on my wrist was unreal. Joe slowly released the handcuff and examined my limp wrist for a second before unwrapping a sandwich. I weakly grapped it and lifted it to my mouth. In seconds flat, the sandwich was gone and I was on the apple sauce. On any normal day, I would have just tossed the apple sauce. I always threw it out as a kid, and never cared for it much as an adult. But I ate it anyway.
Joe had to feed it to me. Once my arm droped to my side, no muscle in my body would get it to raise. It was all to soon that he locked it back up. He loosened it, not wanting to sever off my hands. He did the same thing for the other one, and then left. I was alone again. No matter how cruel your company was, it was always better to have company.
I decided I needed some sleep, so I continusly knocked my head against the wall untill I knocked myself unconsious.
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My vision was blury when I woke up. I could feel the bruise forming on the back of my head. I'd have to sleep on my stomach for a few nights. I didn't realize I wasn't alone, or that I was smiling.
"Still thinking you're going to get out of here Cupcake?" Joe asked cooly.
"I told you to stop calling me Cupcake." I demanded.
"You always liked being Cupcake, why the change in heart?" Joe was right on top of me, his knuckles brushing my cheek. He hand was warm to the touch.
"I was Cupcake when you loved me Joe." I said, pulling away from his hand.
"And I still do."
"You can't possibly say that and mean it Joe." I was a little amazed by all his wit.
"And what says I can't?" He had the puppyface going again.
"That's getting old Joe." I pointed out and his face got flat. "I was always second on your list. You always cared about work, and then me. That got old really quickly Joe. Not once did we ever have sex and not have you're pager or cell go off."
He looked like he was going to say something, but I beat him to the empty silence. "Not once. It went off, but you ignored it, remember?"
He rolled his eyes and his face said, "Oh, yeah."
"Ranger's a busy man too. What makes you think he'd put down work for you? You're a sweatheart Cupcake, but you're not worth moving heaven and earth for."
There he goes with the nickname again. And the accusions. "You hear what Ranger did, just yesterday?" I said in a really testy voice.
"No, what?" Joe got real curious.
"Told Vinnie he'd be taking a vacation. You have an idea why?"
Joe shook his head. He knew altright. His face got really pale and he looked like he wanted to eat his words. "Because he wanted to be free to deal with me. Because he wants me safe and sound, tucked up into my bed for the night without needing to fear for my own life. I'm the little girl from the burg. I am in no shape to be saving my life."
"He want you to be alive so if he ever needs a quick fuck, he could have one!" Joe spat out.
"That's why you stuck around so long. But clearly I wasn't good enough!" Our voices rang off the dungeon walls.
"YOU WERE TOO MUCH DAMN WORK!" Joe hit the last straw and stormed off, throwing a handful of pills at me.
I caught a glimps of the pills before the light dissapeared. All for the pain. Man, did I manage to screw up.