Serial Killer
Frank Carson hobbled to his truck as fast as he could get there. His heart began to pound fiercely, he’d never seen anything like this in his whole life. He’d heard stories of back water hillbillies kidnapping women to forced them to be wives. He’d seen the true crime stories of women getting kidnapped and held as captive sex slaves in urban areas. But one thing was sure, he never thought he would see it with his own eyes.
He jumped in the truck and slammed the car door. He glanced up through the windshield at the poor disheveled young woman. She was shaking, her arms wrapped as if she was hugging herself as tight as she could. Her eyes were fixed on the end of the dirt road.
His hand shook too, as he fumbled with the keys in the ignition. After taking a deep breath he turned the keys, the truck started. Good ‘Ol reliable, the growl of the engine as it started reassured him that everything was going to be okay. He threw the truck into reverse, set his arm up on the back seat, and turned around to see where he was going.
He wasted no time getting to the end of the drive and back out on to the dirt road. He watched the rear view mirror diligently, as he tried not to drive so fast he kicked up dirt. He reached down to the C.B. radio and called in on the police band. “Breaker 14, Breaker 14.. This is Little Bear. I think there’s a possible abduction, or kidnapping, or something at the old Carson Homestead.”
“Copy that, Little Bear.” the C.B. speaker screamed out. “We’ll send someone out there. Over and Out.”
He sped down the road to his house after he made the turn. He ran to the shop garage out behind the barn, where he kept all his metal working and heavy duty tools. He began too look for the chain clippers as his mind began to fog from the adrenaline. Where did he put those clippers? When did he use them last? He shook his head, and tried to clear his mind. He didn’t have time for this old age interference. Why couldn’t his brain just work the way it was supposed to!