Killer Dreams Ch. 51-55

"That would be the wisest call, no matter how much I want to beat him to death," I said.

"Thomas proves how difficult it is to kill and get away with it. He will be here in about an hour, ostensibly to clean up a loose end from the Decker murder. Since Thomas is technically still a member, I need people outside the Society to take him down. I'll leave as soon as he arrives to establish my alibi, so here's what you need to do."

I listened as she laid the plan out for me. It was ingenious; if it didn't lead to a conviction for four murders, the other charges would keep Brickline in jail for decades. Federal pound-you-in-the-ass prisons in the United States did not have parole, and a sick fuck like this wouldn't have any friends. I could live with him being the floor fuck toy as revenge. "I'm in, Mistress. Who is the bait?"

"Former St. Paul Homicide Detective Talia Devine."

"The tall, athletic blonde? I remember her."

"Don't let her get killed, Lars. You're her only protection down here."

Chapter 55

Talia Devine's POV

Woodbury Apartment

Saturday, October 16, 2021

"Are you sure about this?"

I looked over at Detective Molly Pierce, who was drinking a cup of coffee as I changed clothes in my bedroom. "My gut tells me Michael Klinesmith is a fall guy, Molly."

"There's no evidence against anyone else, Talia. We already closed the case!"

"I know." I'd called Molly on the way home from Mistress Tatiana's. The Mistress had her plan, but her words about taking too many chances were on my mind. Molly was my backup plan in case things went south.

"This isn't our procedure, and you aren't even a cop anymore," she objected. "Let me bring my Lieutenant in."

"He'll just say no," I replied. "This goes down in eight-seven minutes, whether you back me or not. If I get in trouble, you call in the cavalry. If it works, you make the arrest." That wasn't Mistress Tatiana's plan, but I was the one playing the bait. Rule one of surviving a kidnapping? Never allow them to take you to a secondary location. It wouldn't end well.

"I'll be out of my jurisdiction in Edina."

"Nobody will care about that if you make the arrest. We don't know if this guy is watching the home or if he'll have people helping him. A bunch of cops nearby could spook him." She groaned. "Mistress Tatiana is going out on a limb for me. Her cover story is that Lars rented her facility for the night. Lars uses me to lure Thomas, who he suspects of being involved in Tracy's murder, to the dungeon. There isn't enough evidence for a warrant application. These people have plenty of money to hire lawyers to get them off. Mistress Tatiana is right; we need to record him confessing to the murders, or we catch him committing a felony."

"By kidnapping you."

"Yes." I'd put on tactical pants, boots, and a T-shirt with a Saint Paul Police Federation logo. I had to be careful; I wasn't a cop, and wearing uniform items could get me in trouble.

"What is your backup?"

"Other than you listening to the audio from this wire?" Molly had a spare in her kit, and we'd taped the small transmitter and microphone to my bra. "I've got my baby Glock in the ankle holster and my knife in a hidden pocket." I didn't have a permit to carry, but I didn't need one on private property. I left my purse, including my phone, on the kitchen table. I'd only bring my spare apartment key along. "Let's go."

We walked down to her car, and she drove us back to Edina. She slowly went past Mistress Tatiana's home before parking her car a few houses down. "That fence is pretty high. Where can I set up to keep an eye on the door?"

"You'll need to be in the neighbor's yard, maybe in a tree? That will help with reception."

She nodded. She verified her radio was on the Edina Police frequency, then called Dispatch. "This is Detective Pierce, Minneapolis Homicide. Show me on a stakeout on a confidential informant, five-thousand block of Kent Avenue in Edina." When Dispatch confirmed it, and I'd verified the wire was working, I stepped out. It was almost eleven-thirty. "He's supposed to arrive around midnight."

"I'll be ready."

I walked through the fence and to the side door of her house. Mistress Tatiana and Colleen met me. Both were in cocktail dresses with wraps for the cool evening. "Lars is already downstairs," Tatiana told me as she walked me into the dungeon. "His job is to provoke Thomas into admitting his involvement in the murders. I've got the audio recorders going." She opened the door of a cage in the corner of the dungeon. It was the size of one for a big dog, but the bars were wider apart and made from welded rebar. There was an aluminum tray on the bottom. "Some of my clients like pet play," she explained.

"Kind of small, isn't it, Mistress?"

"You aren't meant to be comfortable. It's a punishment cage, not a sleeping one. No room to lie down or turn, yet plenty of room for a cock or strapon to access your holes." My pussy clenched a little at the thought. "Hands." I held them out, and Tatiana attached thick leather cuffs to my wrists, attaching them in front of me with a small padlock. She held the padlock up so I could see the mechanism. "This is a panic lock. See these ridges on the front and back? Press both at the same time, and the lock unlatches. Try it." It was pretty simple to figure out. "Go on, get in." I did as she said. It was cramped, and I ended up kneeling with my butt over my toes and my head forced down above my knees. She put on the ankle cuffs, padlocked them together, then locked the door with a combination lock. "Lars knows the combination. He's not taking you anywhere."

"Unless he kills me here, Mistress."

"He won't do that. I told him he needed to remove the trap with the rat alive and dispose of it far from my home. He knows better than to fuck with me. Try and relax; you'll be in here a while."

"Yes, Mistress." She walked up the stairs and was gone. Lars got up and came over to see me. Thankfully, I was fully clothed. I didn't want to be in a compromising position with another murder suspect, even if cleared. "What is your plan?"

"Wait until he arrives, then piss him off."

"Good plan." We didn't have long to wait. I heard the door opening up about fifteen minutes later, with heavy boots coming down the stairs. I didn't have to fake my shock or fear as the big man came into view.

"It's Thomas fucking Brickline," I whispered into the microphone. The bug was one-way, so there was no response.

The former construction company owner looked around, discounting Lars, then looking at me. "She's our fucking rat?"

Lars nodded. "Detective Talia Devine, Saint Paul Homicide," he said softly. "She won't let go of the Decker killing. She came to Mistress Tatiana looking for the name of Allison's true murderer."

Thomas just laughed. "My son-in-law confessed already. The case is closed." He squatted by my cage to get a closer look at me. "And Talia here isn't even a cop. You've been a naughty girl, haven't you?" He reached between the bars, sticking his hand under my pants. I tried to wiggle away, but the cage didn't allow it. He pushed his hand in until his fingers touched my pussy. Naturally, I was wet. "She was fucking David Hardin during the murder investigation! Such a needy little slut. The information Internal Affairs compiled was quite damning. Her career, the scandal, the deviant sexual behavior? No one will be shocked if she commits suicide instead of facing the consequences of her actions."

I snapped. "You killed four fucking people, you sick bastard! You're going down for this!"

Lars came up next to him. "One of those four was my FIANCE, Thomas. You killed Tracy Hardin for no reason!"

He stood up and faced the hockey player. "Tracy was a tasty fucking slut, wasn't she? That look on her face when she realizes she's helpless before you. It's fucking priceless!" He pulled his hand out. "So trusting of those she knows, and it got her killed. I wonder what was going through her mind as she bled out? Did she wonder where you were, Lars? Did she pray for you to save her from Michael?"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH," Lars shouted. The enraged man pulled a knife out from behind his back and lunged for the neck of the killer. Thomas stepped aside, his left hand pushing Lars' wrist away while he reached behind his back. Before Lars could recover his balance, Thomas had a Model 1911 pistol in hand. He fired two shots into his body at point-blank range.

The exit wounds sprayed me with blood, and I screamed as Lars's body fell over my cage. His knife clattered out of reach as Thomas grabbed his arm and pulled him to the floor. I could see the exit wounds were the size of my fist, and he was bleeding out fast. Thomas grabbed his blonde hair, pulling him up to stare into his eyes as the man died. "What a fucking rush," he said as he let go. He was trying to control his breathing. "Nothing like the adrenaline dump from a near-death experience!"

"Is that five victims now?"

Thomas put the pistol back in his holster. "Just a minute." He walked over to the wall, removing a painting to expose a breaker panel. He turned off two circuits, then put everything back. "Did you know I built this dungeon to Mistress Tatiana's specifications?"

Oh, FUCK. "What did you do?"

"I disabled the computer and video surveillance systems. You see, Tatiana was obsessed with keeping the existence of this dungeon secret. This is a double wall, eight inches of poured concrete on each side of an insulated center with a Faraday cage. You could do a mag dump down here, and no one upstairs would hear a fucking shot. The grounded cage means no radio transmissions in or out. The only things that penetrate the walls are water, sewer, and power to that panel. You and I can have fun together, and no one will ever know."

He pulled at the padlock as I shook in fear, knowing that Molly hadn't heard anything. Thomas went to the emergency locker and grabbed bolt cutters. I pressed the quick-release mechanism on the padlock and freed my hands while he wasn't looking. "A well-equipped dungeon all the way," he said as he walked back over. Thomas cut the door lock, then dragged me out by the belt and to my feet.

My knees and back were aching from the cage, but I had to try. Brickline was ready when I lowered my shoulder and went for a single-leg takedown. He spun and tossed me aside, catching me in the kidney with a fist as I went by. His steel-toed boots kicked me in the stomach while I tried to roll to my feet again. Thomas was a big man, and his blows hurt me. I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't stop him as he hooked my cuffs to a ceiling-mounted winch. The cable pulled my hands over my head until I could barely keep my toes on the ground. "Yell all you want," he said. "I love listening to a victim scream and beg for mercy. It gets me hard as a fucking rock!"

I spit in his face, which earned me a slap that had me seeing stars. "Let's see what you look like under that uniform, Talia!"

I could only watch as he grabbed a knife from the emergency kit. The hidden blade design could cut away seatbelts safely, and my shredded clothes started piling by my feet. "Such a naughty girl. A wire?" He tossed it on the floor and crushed it under his boot. "No one will hear anything." He removed my ankle holster, nodding approvingly at the Glock backup. "Perfect. Eating a gun is fairly common for cops and soldiers, right?"

"The cops are looking at you, Brickline. You won't get away with this!"

He started removing his belt. "Yes, I will. I have people who owe me favors all over the city, Talia. Prosecutors, cops, politicians? They all got rich off the projects I've done, and I've got the receipts. No one can touch me, certainly not a rookie detective with a sweet ass and small tits." He ran his hands across my bare ass. "Struggle all you want, Talia. You're going to die tonight."

He moved behind me, and I couldn't stop him.

Detective Molly Pierce's POV

Outside Mistress Tatiana's Home

I exited the car shortly after Talia, grabbing my stakeout bag. The house next door to Tatiana's place was dark, and I made my way into the yard. Between the darkness of the night and my black jeans, boots, and blue POLICE raid jacket, I was damn near invisible.

I heard a knock, then a door. "Lars is already downstairs," I overheard through my earpiece. She had a Russian accent, so it must be Tatiana. I made my way to the fence and looked for an opening. The six-foot-tall privacy fence used overlapping PVC panels, so there were no gaps or missing knots to exploit. Giving up, I looked around the yard I was standing in. The only large trees were in the back, and the shrubs and flowering trees by the fence weren't big enough to climb. I walked around the back, finding an extension ladder behind the garage. I propped it against the roof and climbed onto the ranch-style home, making my way along the side roof on the side away from the street. It only took a few minutes to get set up on the rooftop with my camera. I had a good view of the side entrance Talia expected to use. I set up my video camera first, zooming in on the entrance and starting the recording.

Speaking of talking, I hadn't heard anything since she entered the home. I pulled out the receiver and checked it. It had a full charge, and the display showed it was recording, but there was no signal strength. Perhaps she'd turned it off? Did Mistress Tatiana find it?

I was starting to get nervous about this. The audio was critical to our plan; how else would we gain evidence of the guilty party confessing?

I focused first on my notes. There were two vehicles in the lot, a silver Toyota 4Runner and a blue Ford Fusion. I jotted down their license plate numbers and said them out loud for the camera to pick up. The Ford looked like a rental car; I thought I saw a National Car Rental sticker on the windshield.

I was thinking about aborting the whole thing when the door opened. I quickly brought my binoculars up to my eyes and watched the women exit. Mistress Tatiana looked formal and superior, while the middle-aged woman by her side acted like a servant. The pair got into the Toyota and drove out of the driveway.

The house was dark except for a light in the living room and the one over the side entrance. The homes in this neighborhood were old and expensive, like their owners, with few young families. It was almost midnight, and the only sounds were passing traffic on nearby Highway 100 and planes climbing into the sky from the airport.

The roof wasn't comfortable, but I didn't have to wait too long. A pickup truck turned onto the street, slowing down and pulling into the driveway. It parked next to the Fusion. It was an F150 pickup, white, with a Western snowplow mounted on the front and ready for the winter. The plow blocked my view of the front license plate.

The man who got out was an older guy with broad shoulders that didn't come from a gym. He had on work boots, worn jeans, and a Carhartt jacket. I knew I'd seen his face, but I couldn't recall his name. He went inside, and still nothing on the wire.

And nothing happened.

I watched the entrance, checking my watch every ten minutes or so. I was getting nervous as we reached an hour without hearing anything from the wire. Still, what could I do? I had no warrant, no probable cause, and Talia was not a cop or a registered informant. Hell, I was outside my jurisdiction on a stakeout that my boss didn't know about!

It was then that the door opened, and the man walked back out.

In the overhead light of the doorway, I could see blood on his face and clothing. He walked to his truck, grabbed a can of gasoline, and turned back to the house.

As soon as the door closed, I took off for the ladder while holding my radio in my right hand. "Minneapolis 51 Delta, Officer needs assistance, 5087 Kent Avenue, Edina. 10-31, Detective in raid jacket on scene. Officer needs assistance, 5087 Kent Avenue."

I listened to the call going out as I climbed down the ladder. Running to the street, I went around the fence and ran to the door. Protocol said to wait until backup arrived, but I knew Talia was in the dungeon and might be injured.

I opened the door with my left hand, my Glock in my right. I cleared the vestibule, then the kitchen and dining room. I checked the door leading down to the dungeon next; the handle turned, and the heavy door cracked open on silent ball-bearing hinges.

I heard Talia scream before I closed the door again so I could get the radio call out. "Minneapolis 51 Delta to all units, 10-35 in progress, 5087 Kent Avenue. Victim is in basement, stairway near east entrance from driveway. One suspect, male white, sixty, jeans and Carhart jacket, seen carrying gasoline into residence. Vehicle is white F150 with plow, Minnesota HJP-230. Plainclothes officer on scene in raid jacket."

"Roger, 51 delta, units are three minutes out," Dispatch replied.

Talia may not have three minutes if he lights a match. I made my decision. Hugging the inside wall, I opened the door and crept down the stairs, my pistol in front and ready.

I swung around the edge of the wall, looking down the pistol sights as I scanned the room. I saw Talia bloodied and hanging in the center of the room, then the big guy hiding behind a bench.

He had his gun out and fired twice.

The first hit my vest like a baseball bat while the second tore through my right shoulder. My gun clattered down the stairs, but I managed to get behind the wall again. I ignored the pain as I scrambled up the stairs towards the open door.

The next shot hit me in the middle of the back and knocked me into the vestibule. I managed to kick the door closed as he fired twice more, the steel stopping the bullets.

I crawled out the door as the first units arrived. "Downstairs... armed... hostage," I said. "GO!"

I heard gunshots just before I passed out.

Officer Ryan Andrews' POV

5087 Kent Avenue

"What is a Minneapolis detective doing here," I asked as I screeched to a halt outside the suburban home.

"Fuck if I know. Let's go," Sandra said. Corporal Edwards was my training officer for the last six weeks. If she didn't know, it wasn't worth knowing. "Grab the shotgun."

She had the patrol rifle in her hand as we bailed out. Another unit was pulling up as I covered her approach to the side door. I saw the door opening and hugged the side of the house.

The woman had been shot in the shoulder. As she fell through the doorway, I spotted the POLICE on the back of her jacket. Sandra reached her first and went to drag her free. The Detective pulled her hand away. "Downstairs... armed... hostage," she forced out, blood spraying from her mouth. "GO!"

I called it in. "Unit 31, Officer down, shots fired, 5087 Kent."

Sandra moved to the open door, then inside. We set up on each side of the metal door leading downstairs. "Three, two, one, now!" I pulled the door open, surprised both at its weight and how smoothly it opened once I got it started.

I heard other units arriving. Someone carried the injured detective to safety while two Deputies came in behind us. We moved in a line down the stairs to the dimly lit basement. "POLICE! FREEZE!"

He didn't. He started shooting, so Sandra opened up with a three-round burst from her rifle. I got my shotgun around the edge of the wall and fired, the buckshot hitting him in the face and neck. He fell back to the floor. "I'll cover you while you check him, Sandy." I looked over at her as she sat heavily on the stairs, her hand covering a bloody wound on her thigh. "SHIT! OFFICER DOWN," I yelled.

"Let us through," the other officers said. They secured the scene as I applied pressure to the bullet wound. "He's gone, and there's another body over here. We need an ambulance for the woman."