February Sucks - Gone Girl

"My own good?" I asked a bit stunned. "It's MY wife that's missing. The mother of my children. What do I care what others think is good for me?"

L.W. was confident and experienced, and shot straight back. "You better care, Jim. This gets any worse, say Linda doesn't come back or isn't found, and they can find a way to hang this around your neck. Do you want Emma and Tommy to grow up under the domain of child protective services? Do you want to spend every dime you have and mortgage your home to pay to prove your innocence? You shouldn't. The criminal justice system may provide justice occasionally, but it's definitely not fair. Westin and company, have cases lined up behind yours. They get paid to solve quickly and move on to the next. In order to do so, they need to provide the DA with something they can use to secure a conviction, no matter who's actually innocent or guilty

Trouble is Jim, this case involves a pretty white housewife and a whiff of celebrity gossip. We're fighting on two fronts. The DA can double dip. He can bankrupt you with a regular trial, even if he thinks he'll lose it. He can also appeal to the court of public opinion, and ruin your life to cover his own ass. He'll do it, go home, fuck his wife, sleep like a baby, and maybe even still become a judge in ten or twenty years. Jim, this is my world. You stay in your lane for your own good and for your kids. Let me handle the legal stuff and the media circus. Two courts. Two chances to lose everything. I'm in charge."

I could only nod.

"Now, did you get any inclination during your time at the club or before that at dinner, that your wife and the group was planning anything in the way of a joke or prank?"

"NO. It was to be our special night. Two feet of snow wiped out our Valentine's celebration, so Dee came up with this dinner and dancing thing. Get rooms for all of us so we didn't have to drive. I saw nothing in Linda's behavior or the others that would have clued me in on their plan. Only afterwards was I dumbfounded by the group's behavior."

"Why? What made you feel that way?" L.W. asked.

"We've all talked about, you know, being married couples, things like that. We've had conversations about fidelity in a marriage, and we all agreed, one and done. No form of adultery would be tolerated by any of us. I was actually relieved that we all met after Linda and I got married. Same with them. No one knew anyone's past exploits before marriage, and we all felt safe with dancing with the other spouses, and even a little light flirting. Then they all just sat there and covered for Linda, then told me I shouldn't be angry about her deceit and betrayal. That was very strange, as I think about it now. Then I was just so shocked and angry, I couldn't think."

Our family friend took a deep breath. "Did you know the opinion your friends had of you?"

"I guess they always thought I was safe. I'm almost always the designated driver. They ask my opinion because I think things through."

"And did you know that they considered you the straight-laced guy? The party pooper, as it were? The one in the group that was wrapped too tight? This is at least Phil and Dee's reasoning for putting together the prank, as they call it, in the first place. They said they wanted to lighten you up, maybe teach you to have a sense of humor."

I couldn't believe my ears. Those pricks were quickly becoming enemies. "No, sadly, I would not have expected that," I answered quietly.

"I didn't think so. I recommend, in the future that you choose your friends more carefully. Anyway, the crux of it is, Phil has a friend and co-worker at the insurance company he works for. That friend has a friend, who has a friend named Joe Jackson. Joe is, or was until Sunday afternoon, employed by Mr. LaValliere as a publicity double, or body double. Doubles are used by many celebrities nowadays, primarily for security purposes, but occasionally for other things.

Phil mentioned it to Dee one night when it was just the two couples at Dee's home. Jane is the only person who seemed to object as the plan formed legs. A few weeks later they brought your wife into the fold, and by then Phil had already made contact with this Jackson fellow. The idea was, and I quote, 'Teach you to lighten up and the value of a good joke.' So that's the short version.

I can tell you, what they all said in their interviews sickened me. These people are not your friends, and likely you were the brunt of many a mean verbal joke long before Friday night, whenever you weren't there of course. There is no respect. If I had to guess, Linda was at least mildly coerced into this, and at most, she has some of the same feelings about you as they do. Jane did admit to me, that Linda spent a great deal of time thinking about it. She did not readily agree. Why she eventually decided to go along, will probably be a mystery until she is found or comes back. I also got the sense that Dee and Phil are the ringleaders in this situation. I have the sense, that the two of them may be playing behind their spouses back, possibly with each other.

So, right now Westin and Hathaway are looking for Jackson. They've viewed the security footage from the Madison and the dance club. They confirmed Linda left in Jackson's Audi. Marc LaValliere has been interviewed, and due to paparazzi on social media, he already knew something happened at the club, since he was home with guests on Friday. He's offered cooperation and more now that he knows the story. Mr. LaValliere, per recommendation from the NFL, terminated Mr. Jackson yesterday. I should have a progress report from Westin by 11:00am tomorrow. The obvious theory is they find Jackson, and we'll find Linda."

It was a lot to take in. I felt drained and I had barely said a word. L.W. rubbed my left shoulder as he stood. "Hang in there son. Do those things I asked, and nothing else. As soon as I know more so will you."

At 10:30 Tuesday morning, the next day, I heard the doorbell, as I was working on QA reports in Dad's office. I opened it slightly, leery of reporters. And there he stood.

"Mr. Carlson, I'm Marc..."

"I know who you are" I spat with as much vitriol as possible.

LaValliere was flanked by two mammoths, bigger than he. "Mr. Carlson, I'm here to help. If you'll allow me that is. It seems we have a common enemy and a common problem. May I come in for a minute?"

I opened the door and stepped aside, waving my arm towards the living room. The two giants stayed in close proximity. I sat across from him as the duo stood flanking him.

"Mr. Carl...Jim. May I call you Jim?" I nodded.

"Good. Call me Marc. Jim, Joe Jackson was my employee which you may already know. He's isn't anymore. Jim, this guy is bad news. I'm already cooperating with the police. From what my investigators have told me this morning, by the time those two detectives discover where Jackson went, this is going to blow up nationally. He crossed state lines on Friday night. That's going to bring the FBI into the fold. Good news for finding your wife, bad news for the intense publicity. I'm used to it, while you aren't.

Jim, I'm offering you the services of my private investigation firm, free of charge for the next six months, and possibly the foreseeable future beyond that."

I cut him off. "Why? Why would you do that for me?"

"Two reasons. One, he pretended to be me. That's bad for me. I have a long history of community involvement and charity. I do that sincerely, from the heart, by the way, but people who end up on a pedestal usually end up getting stoned off of it. Jackson is a blemish on my good name. Second, I found out this morning that he somehow stole one of my checkbooks, either from my car or my home, and I'm now out over $400,000 that he stole. I have no idea how he managed to get my checkbook, but I can't really blame the bank if he got into character to go there. Anyone would have thought he was me; that's the whole point after all."

"So why not just keep me posted, on what your people find?"

"I could, but I'm told you have one of the best attorneys in the state, with a hefty reputation. I like winners. Like your lawyer. Unlike Joe Jackson. My people and your people have a better chance finding your wife before that prick does something he can't undo. Let's say we combine forces?"

"What do you mean, 'can't undo?'"

"Jim, this guy is bad news. I'm not clear on how your wife got mixed up with him, and I don't want to make you any more worried than you already are. Jackson is a womanizer. He's a liar, and now he's a thief and a felon. At one time, he wasn't that bad, but then his best friend died - committed suicide I think - and from there he went off the rails. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I can't even begin to imagine your hurt and pain, and the stress of not knowing where your wife is. That's why I'm offering. Yes, like I said, it's for me, but also for you."

Damn - I didn't have any interest in liking this guy, but he seemed so sincere. I decided it might be helpful to join forces. We stood, and shook hands. On his way out the door, I said "One more thing Marc."

He turned and looked back. "Do you play around with married women?"

He instantly understood. "Don't believe the media Jim. They get paid to present illusion. But, if honesty will benefit our limited partnership, here it is. I only "play" with married women with their husbands' prior and full approval."

I guess the look on my face showed my obligatory surprise.

"Jim, the world's a crazy place. There's some guys out there that like that stuff, even willing to pay me for my...services. Although I've never taken anyone's money. My world class predator status is highly exaggerated."

The next 4 days dragged on. L.W. finally called with an update. Jackson had driven straight to the airport and boarded a flight to Ft Lauderdale. Linda's ID was confirmed by TSA. In Florida, They chartered a flight on a four-seater to Cuba. I was curious how that could be with a travel ban. L.W. chuckled telling me this was 'AF.' When I questioned that, he said "after Fidel" and explained that travel was no longer banned. The problem was, the Cubans had no record of the plane landing or ever being in their airspace. As Marc had predicted the FBI had taken the lead on the case. While I wasn't out of the woods yet, L.W. told me that I was becoming less and less of a suspect by the hour; however, there was the angle that I had done something to both Linda and Jackson. The court of public opinion was still very much in play.

I tried to work, like I'd asked my boss to let me do. It was more difficult than I suspected. Even though I'd been able to control my emotions in front of my kids, I started feeling depressed and less able to function. I felt helpless that week, maybe even as helpless as the night Linda had left me in ruin. It was starting to look more and more like she'd gone all in at some point and less like a kidnapping, or anything against her will. The FBI was setting up interviews with people who had had close or direct contact with the pair in the airports or on the first flight.

By Friday, one week from that fateful night, I'd steeled myself to getting all of us some therapy. I set up a few appointments for Monday. I also called my boss and told him he was right, could I take a two week leave of absence. He gave me three on the FLA and said if I needed more, I had plenty of sick time that wouldn't affect my vacation. I needed to settle in and help my kids and myself. Keep the press at bay. In short do all I could to survive.

March 6, South of Cuba, Grand Cayman islands

Linda

I felt the sun and warm breeze before actually seeing anything. I was waking up. Disorientation doesn't even begin to describe how I was feeling. As I slowly regained consciousness, I was remembering little snippets of the last...I don't know how long. Some of them were pleasant, while some were horrific, but I didn't like any of them. Finally, through the fog, I opened my eyes. Immediately I closed them as the brightness gave me an instant headache. I tried again.

Where the hell was I? I was lying nude on a "king size" bed, with what looked to be very expensive white satin sheets. Ow! As I moved my right leg, my ankle bones hurt badly. I looked down to discover the cause. A shackle was attached very tightly, and was rubbing my extended bones, but that must have been happening for a while. I started to assess other things too. The heavy chain attached to the shackle went down below the bed somewhere. My mouth was dry. Very dry. My leg muscles ached. Oh shit! My crotch was on fire. I reached down and felt a very swollen, very sensitive sex organ. As my finger brushed further back, I felt such a searing knife like pain, I wanted to scream out. My ass was extremely tender and it hurt ten times worse than the hemorrhoids I'd gotten after Tommy was born.

What the hell?

Starting to realize my predicament, my face flushed and my heart started to race, as my breathing became sporadic. I was being held captive. But why? Who? Looking towards the window I saw the daylight. It was hot, tropical even. I certainly wasn't anywhere near home. Had I been sexually assaulted? It sure felt like I had. I tried to remember my last coherent thought.

Jim! Emma and Tommy. My family. What had happened to me? What was wrong with me? I should have been able to remember the last time I'd been awake.

I felt the presence before I heard it. At the door was a man.

"Joe?" I asked shakily.

"Well hello, beautiful. It's good to see you awake." It was slowly coming back in pieces, except Joe's kind wonderful smile was now an evil smirk.

"Where...where am I? What happened to me, why am I shack..."

"Easy Linda. Take a minute. You've been out for a while and I need you to calm yourself so you don't have a reaction. I'll answer all your questions soon. Take a few deep breaths."

"Then come over here and release me!" I screamed.

"Linda", he said closing the space between us, "if you don't calm down, I'm gonna have to give you something to put you back to sleep. Relax. Breathe. Or I'll make you."

This was not the Joe from the club. My special night with Jim. Oh God! What is happening! Joe sat on the bed and began stroking my hair.

"That's it. Easy. Deep breaths through your nose and out of your mouth."

Suddenly remembering, I became revolted. I grabbed his hand, mid-stroke. "Don't touch me! You asshole!"

"Shh, shh." Joe gently but forcefully pulled away. "A lot has happened. I'm sure you want to know. If you're calm, and a good girl, I'll fill in the blanks."

"Fuck you, asshole. Let me go!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, but my mouth was too dry to muster anything but a hoarse groan. I tried to grab him, claw him, flailing wildly about.

Ouch! In the seconds after the pain, I understood he'd struck me, hard in the face. My cheek stung and my ear was ringing.

"Don't Linda. I told you to calm down. Do it, or I'll make you. You're my prisoner, not my friend. I'll hurt you, with zero thought or remorse." I guess the slap took the wind out of my sails.

Joe got up and left the room. I could hear a faucet running. He returned with a wet washcloth and a glass of water. The glass was plastic.

"Here. Drink," he demanded. Then he threw the cold wet cloth on my stomach. That's when I remembered I was naked in front of him. Using my free hand and my left foot, I was able to unsnarl the bedsheet, and pulled it up over me. This solicited a laugh from Joe.

"Now, now. No need for modesty Linda. Not after all we've been through this week."

This week?

"What day is it?" I asked ignoring his obvious suggestion.

"It's Thursday. March 6^th, if I'm not mistaken. You've been home for just over five days now. I'm glad to see you awake. I was worried there for a while."

"Why? What have you done? This isn't my home!" I sobbed.

"There, there. Last Friday, you told me in the car that you didn't want to go back to your hotel. You had enough of playing faithful wifey and nursemaid to those brats of yours."

"You're a liar!" I screamed.

"No Linda. Your exact words were...Well, shit, let's just listen to them together." Joe reached into the back pocket of his pants and retrieved his phone. He was pushing buttons, and then I heard it.

"You okay baby? You had a lot to drink."

I heard my voice, but it wasn't my voice. It was horribly slurred, and pensive.

"(giggle) I'm Ooohkaaaay. Are you OOohkaaay? (giggle) (burp) giggle.

"Wanna go someplace baby? Someplace fun?"

"I have to...you need to take me to the Madrig...Morrrrrison...my hotel, 'member?"

"Sure baby. You ever wonder what it would be like to be on your own private tropical island?"

"Torprical island? Noooo."

"it'll be fun. Don't you want to have fun?"

"Yessss."

"Good, I'll take you back to the hotel after we go see the island. Maybe go for a swim at the beautiful beach. Drink something with an umbrella in it. Put your pretty toes in the sand. Wouldn't you like that baby?"

"yesssss. I jurst got my toes done for our speckle night. Oh, hold on. (shuffle) (giggle) (burp) We can't go. Where's Jim? We have to go see Jim."

"Nah. He's fine. He's with your friends remember? We'll call him when we get there so he won't worry. I got you babe. You can even take a little nap and I'll call him when we get there. It won't take long."

"Okay, you call him, K?"

"So you want to go right?"

"Yep. Read the way."

Joe clicked off the phone. With a diabolical smile he said, "See?"

"Fucking bastard! You drugged me."

"See, that's the thing right there. People always say, 'that Linda Carlson, man she's a dumb-ass bitch.' I say no way man; she's smart as a whip. Don't match wits with her, man. She'll mess you up."

I started crying now, fully understanding my situation. "Why?"

"See? There you go again! Proving me right. Sharp as a tack, I tell you. Why? That is the million dollar question, isn't it? It's one you will learn in due time. But not yet. In fact, I'm banking on you figuring it out before I tell you."

Joe walked into the bathroom, and came out with three tubes of cream. "Here. Put these on your privates. You have kids, I'm sure you can figure out which is which and for what end. You're a damned wild woman in bed Linda. I thought you were gonna break my dick. I know you were slightly out of it, but damn girl, you were screaming my name like a banshee when I took your 'Greek' virginity."

"Fucking raped me, didn't ya?" I said in a voice I hadn't used in a very long time.

"Well, well," he chuckled and shook his head. "Didn't expect that quite yet."

I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Now that you're awake, I expect you to behave. Let's go over the house rules. First, you're on an island. Yes a real tropical island just like I promised. I won't tell you...Well, what the hell. It doesn't matter. You're on Cayman Brac, the smallest of the three Cayman islands. This here, is a private Oceanside bungalow that I paid cash for. A little gift from that fucking asshole, Marc LaValliere. I kinda found his checkbook in my car, and thought, 'what the hell?'

"The Island only has about 2000 residents. The closest human is at a resort hotel" he pointed out the window, "exactly 5.1 miles down the beach to the southwest. I took some time this week to put 'no trespassing' signs about 1/2 mile down that way. So, once you get your voice back, you can scream until your heart's content. That is IF I let you get your voice back." With that he obscenely grabbed his crotch.

The realization of that gesture, brought my stomach up into my throat. Joe grabbed a big Tupperware bowl off the nightstand and put it in front of my face. It didn't matter. There was nothing in my stomach anyway. I was trapped. Hostage to a sadistic animal. I suddenly felt very helpless and hopeless, and very tired. I rolled over facing away from the prick, and curled up in a ball. He took the hint.