Preg-napped

Chapter 1

Detective Bradley Burns sat uneasily in his office, his steepled fingers pressed against his mouth and his gaze fixed on the picture of his wife on his desk.

He had gotten a text from her last night, saying that she would be staying at a hotel while the storm passed by. The message told him that she was all right, but he still had a nagging feeling in his gut that something was wrong. First of all, the storm had passed a while ago. She should've texted him this morning to confirm that things were okay. Then...

"Detective Burns."

Bradley snapped out his thoughts, looking up at the door.

Standing in the frame was a stocky man in a brown suit with a blue tie. He had bushy grey hair and a smug face so flat you'd think he'd put it in a waffle iron. His steely cobalt eyes were buried under a thick, drooping set of eyebrows. He spoke to Bradley with the same stern voice he always used.

"Yes, Mr. Manson?" Bradley addressed the man respectfully.

"Call me 'Chad'...no, 'Chief' is better," the man grumbled, straightening his tie. "Look, Burns, I know you're new here, but you've got to focus. No more daydreaming. We've got work to do."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Man...I mean, uh, Chief."

The Chief left, swinging the door shut behind him as he walked out.

Bradley sighed, slapping his hands on the desk. He had nothing to worry about. Deanna was going to be fine.
He grabbed a pen and went back to his paperwork.

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Deanna opened her eyes slowly, groggily. Her senses immediately started to warn her that her situation was bad.

The air smelled damp and stale, like an abandoned island cave. Everything was dark, from the slimy stone walls that surrounded her to the dirt floor to the ceilings, which were empty except for a few cracked wooden boards. She was sitting on the floor, arms tied behind the rusty pole she was leaning against. She was wearing nothing but her pink shirt and her lacy black panties; her jacket, pants, boots, purse, and watch were all gone. Furthermore, she was soaking wet; probably from the rain, she assumed. Dirt from the bare ground stuck to her arms and legs.

Her baby was even more anxious than she was. As Deanna gasped in the humid air, her belly heaved, and her growing child kicked against its inner walls. She winced in discomfort every time she felt it move. Her arms were tightly wrapped behind her, so there was no way of stroking her belly to soothe it.

Just as Deanna was trying to understand her surroundings, a dim blue light came on overhead, illuminating the filthy room.

She saw all her possessions on a tall shelf next to a wall just five feet away. The walls were a pale yellow, faded over the years.

Suddenly, Deanna heard footsteps coming from the wooden staircase.

Descending the steps was a man dressed in a black coat, with a cloth around his mouth and thick, dark sunglasses...

...The man from the truck.

Deanna's eyes widened. He had kidnapped her and brought her to this...this disgusting lair of a basement. God only knew what he was about to do next.

She started yelling at the top of her lungs: "Help! HELP! I'm down here! Someone help me!"
She struggled against her restraints, tiring herself out quickly.

The man only laughed as Deanna lost her energy. He reached a gloved hand up to his face and pulled his bandana off to speak in his grimy voice. "There's no use screamin', girl. We're miles away from anything and anyone."

Deanna panted as she took in his features. He had crooked yellow teeth and chapped lips. His nose stuck out prominently from his face and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days. As Deanna's disgust mounted, she managed to blurt, "Wh-who are you? Where am I and why did you bring me here?!"

The man continued to chuckle. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he turned to the shelf and began rummaging through a drawer. "Well, sweetheart," he breathed, "You can call me Master."

He turned back around, holding a roll of duct tape in his hands. Deanna gulped, her heart pounding.

Her kidnapper walked over to her and pulled off a piece of tape. Even as he neared her, she continued to shout things like "No!" and "Help!", but it was no use. The man bent down and stuck the tape firmly over her mouth. She let loose a few more muffled cries, then hung her head, defeated.

'Master' laughed once more, his mahogany eyes gleaming.

"You'n I are gonna have a lotta fun, darlin'."

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As the sun began to set behind the trees, Detective Bradley Burns scribbled a last note on his reports. His eyelids were beginning to feel heavy and his hands was cramping up. There was so much crime in Crown City, and so much paperwork to go along with it...he felt exhausted. But he was sure he'd get used to it. After all, it was only his third day on the job.

Bradley had always had a strong interest in being a detective. He'd even studied it in college. His old job at McRonald's just wasn't doing it for him, and with a baby on the way, this new job was the perfect thing. He could both support his family and be a role model for his new daughter.

But for now, Bradley just needed to get some rest.

On his way out the door, however, he was stopped by the Chief.

The big, intimidating man came up to Bradley as he was locking up his office door.
"Leaving so soon, Burns?" Chief said, raising one of his furry eyebrows.

Bradley sighed. "Well, it is the end of my shift, sir."

Chief glanced at the watch wrapped tight around his thick wrist. "Hm. I suppose you're right. But, you know, justice never sleeps, Burns!" He cracked a smile and plopped a large hand on Bradley's shoulder.

The young Detective forced a smile of his own until the Chief walked away.

Although he could be annoying at times, Chief was someone Bradley didn't dare messing with. He was the kind of man that could paralyze you with a single glare.

Bradley left the building quickly, taking long strides down the dismal halls and descending the staircases two steps at a time.

Ah, he couldn't wait to be home.
Deanna would surely be waiting for him.