J McKenna - Naughty girl

“Yeah?” he responded, half turning his back to her. “Look what you did. I’d say we’re even.”

“But we’ll starve down here!”

“You’re not getting out until I get DeeDee out. So you’d better hope I succeed. If he kills me, you will starve.”

“No! You bastard!” Then, like a light switch, she changed her tone. “Wait! Carl! Let me help you! I can distract Turk while you save the girl! I promise I’ll help!”

Carl had to laugh. “You think I’d trust you? You’re crazier than I thought.”

“You don’t understand! I saved you! Turk would’ve killed you! I took you even though I didn’t think you were trainable, just to save your life.”

That stopped Carl. He didn’t want to believe her, but he imagined it might be true. Turk was easily capable of killing him. “You want to help?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, where are we?”

“Oh. We’re just north of San Francisco near Santa Rosa. This is a ranch about five miles outside of town. Take Holloway Road to get back to the freeway.”

“And the keys to your car?”

“They’re on the pegboard by the door to the garage. You can take the Porsche—it’s fast.”

Carl nodded. “Thanks.” He stepped back.

“But—what about Sven! He needs help!” She gripped the bars of the cell, her eyes desperate.

“Tell you what,” he said to her, “I’ll call the police just before I go inside Turk’s place. That way, if he kills me, you’ll still be rescued. It’s the best I can do.” He turned to go.

“Wait! There’s something you should know! About Turk!”

Carl turned back. He expected lies.

“Turk is dangerous. He’ll kill you this time. He’s afraid of nothing.” She paused, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you should know that he’s been kidnapping women and shipping them off to foreign countries as slaves. That’s what he’s going to do to DeeDee. No one’s been able to figure out what’s been happening to these girls, the police think it’s a serial killer because no one ever hears from them again and no one finds the bodies. You can’t prove it. Turk covers his tracks—the girls just disappear. But they’re all alive! God, he’d kill me if he knew I told you.”

Carl was stunned, then instantly furious. “You’ve known about this and you haven’t told anyone? I should leave you locked up to die, just like you left those women to suffer at the hands of that madman!”

He stalked off, ignoring Gloria’s entreaties. He mounted the stairs two at a time. In his haste, he nearly ran out to the garage naked, then stopped, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He rummaged through closets, looking for his clothes, but couldn’t find them. They were probably still in San Francisco. He did come across a pair of pants and a shirt of Sven’s that fit him reasonably well, although the shoes were a size too big. He sucked his teeth in pain when he put on the shirt. He could feel the edges of the wounds from his whipping catching on the material. He was sure the blood was soaking through, leaving tiny trails across his back.

He grabbed the keys and jumped into the Porsche, grimacing when his back touched the seat. He figured it would take less than an hour to reach Turk’s place. On the way, he mulled over what he would do when he got there. This time, he knew he had the advantage of surprise, but he wasn’t about to go in armed with just a screwdriver, not after seeing Turk close up. Yet there wasn’t time to buy a gun, even a shotgun. The paperwork would take too long. He had to get to DeeDee before she was shipped out. Of course, he had to call the police, but he really wanted to get there first.

He gunned the car, heading toward the freeway, thinking. By the time he hit the onramp, he thought he’d figured out a crude plan.

It was just past dusk when Carl reached Turk’s neighborhood. He’d put his plan into action by stopping at a hardware store and a pay phone on the way. He parked a block away, took out the small plastic bag of items he’d purchased and strode quickly toward the house, looking over his shoulder for any unusual activity. He hoped he had timed this right. When he reached Turk’s mansion, he snuck up the drive and climbed over the gate into the backyard. He hoped no one had spotted him.

He crept around the house, looking through the windows to check for Turk or Crystal. He had the advantage of being able to see in without being seen, provided he stayed away from the glow of the deck lights. He duck-walked around the house until he found the study that he’d been in a few days earlier. It was empty.

He tried raising the window. As expected, it was locked. Putting down the bag, he took out the roll of duct tape, tore off a couple of feet and stuck about six inches of it to the windowpane, right above the lock. He took out a glass cutter, and cut a crude circle around the tape. He tapped the glass with the round end of the cutter, wincing at the noise it made, although it probably didn’t carry far in the vast house. He heard the glass crack then pulled at the tape, causing the section of come out in his hands.

As he was reaching in to unlock the window, he heard the squawk of a police radio nearby. Carl paused, scanning the sky and noticed dim red and blue flashes against the trees. He smiled to himself. He unlocked the window and raised it up. He crawled inside then took a few minutes to case the place. He hoped he might find a safe or some papers in the desk drawer that would incriminate Turk, but he doubted the man would be that dumb. Still, it was worth a try.

He heard the doorbell and nodded. The timing had been nearly perfect. He had called the police just minutes before he’d arrived at the mansion.

He was just about to give up his search and start for the door, when he happened to peek behind one of the paintings and noticed it was hinged on the side, rather than hung from above. He pulled it away from the wall and saw the safe set in the wall behind it. He put the painting back, then went to the door, opening it a crack and putting his ear to it.

Carl stood there, listening as Crystal then Turk talked to the police officers who had responded to the call about a kidnapped woman at this residence.

“Officer, I don’t know what’s going on here,” Turk was saying in his smooth, urbane voice. “This must be some kind of prank. There’s no one being kidnapped here.”

Carl couldn’t hear the murmur of the officer’s reply and took a chance to peek through the crack in the door.

“Sure, you can come in and look around. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

The two officers and Turk began a tour of the old house, starting with the opposite wing. When they disappeared from view, Carl sneaked out into the hall and approached the bookcase. When Crystal had opened it before, Carl couldn’t tell which book she’d pulled, but thought it might’ve been on the third shelf from the top. It had seemed to be about chest-high to Crystal.

He went down the row, pulling down on the top corner of the volumes until he reached “Ivanhoe.” Instantly, he heard a click and the door popped open. Carl made sure the door stayed wide open as he descended the stairs. In the gloom, he searched for a light switch but couldn’t find one. But there was a small nightlight burning along one wall and that would have to do.

“DeeDee?” he called softly, squinting into the semidarkness. As he moved further into the room, he found this dungeon was similar to the one he’d been in earlier that day. Perhaps Gloria had modeled her chamber after her mentor’s. There were implements of torture along one wall, the thick wooden post in the middle. The only differences were this basement was carpeted throughout, and against the far wall, a large X-brace stood, no doubt used to “train” reluctant slaves.