Date: Thu, 7 May 2015 20:45:19 -0400
From: Bradley Carson <bradleyjcarson@gmail.com>
Subject: Chief Jack Albertson - Chapter 16 - Derby Danger - Alone in the Dark

Meanwhile, Gunnar Donaldson and Ronnie Issak were just slipping naked into
one another's arms in their king-sized bed in the house they now shared.
As their relationship had progressed over the past year, they had
eventually moved in together in what had been just Gunnar's house, which
was in turn Brad and Jack's former home which they now rented out to the
other couple.

"I love you, baby," Ronnie said softly, as he kissed the hunky state
trooper he still could not quite believe was now his fiancι.

"You too, honey," Gunnar replied tenderly to the handsome secret US
Government Agent-turned-UPS man he loved.  Ronnie had even confided his top
secret former career to Gunnar, who respected the urgency of keeping what
exactly Ronnie had done a secret.  Not even Ronnie's daughter, the popular
and famous country and R&B singer and Pleasant View native Destiny Rose,
knew the truth about what her long-lost father had done for a living for
the past couple of decades, before reuniting with her about the time her
singing career had taken off a year before.

Gunnar and Ronnie were soon making love with a passionate intensity, with
Ronnie's big nine and a half inch cock filling Gunnar so full and making
him feel so in love – and in heat.

"MMmm! Harder baby," Gunnar was soon moaning, prompting Ronnie to open up
and begin to give his prostate a delicious full throttle massage.

"FUCK!" Ronnie exclaimed in pure pleasure, love, and lust as he did just
that with reckless abandon to his love.

"Mmmm!  Uhn!" Gunnar groaned.  "Let me ride it, baby!"

Gunnar climbed astride Ronnie and position himself so that Ronnie's big
rock hard rod was pounding his love button again and again, causing Gunnar
to moan again and again in pleasure, as Ronnie began to do the same.  They
were both very vocal in their lovemaking, and each drove the other crazy
with this fact.

Soon they were both reaching an explosive climax, and then drifting off to
sleep.  But, before long, Gunnar, who had been scheduled to be on duty the
following day, was paged out.  As he sleepily and quickly got into uniform,
Ronnie asked what was going on.

"The Cliffords' helicopter has gone down!" Gunnar exclaimed, in shock and
disbelief at the horrible news himself.

Ronnie immediately got an awful sinking feeling about this in the pit of
his stomach, and not just because he was also a longtime fan of the
Democratic couple.  "No," he silently told himself, "there couldn't be any
connection to my living here now.  Hopefully it is just a terrible
accident."

The crash scene of the helicopter carrying former President Blake Cliffords
and his wife, current presidential candidate Heloise Cliffords, was in a
farmer's field just south of town.  The helicopter was actually only
moderately damaged, the crash apparently actually having been more of a
very hard landing.  Just outside of the wreckage, the bodies of the pilot
and two Secret Service agents who had been on board were found, all shot
dead.  Blake Cliffords was found with a gunshot wound to the head, but he
was still alive.  There was no sign of either the co-pilot or Heloise
Cliffords.

By the time the former president had been airlifted to UK Hospital in
Rosemont, the national media was already beginning to converge on Pleasant
View.  By the wee hours of the next morning, a theory was already being
reported: apparently the co-pilot had intentionally brought the chopper
down and then shot the pilot, the two agents, and the former president,
before running off with Heloise as his hostage.

"It's bullshit," Jack commented to Brad early the next morning, as he was
preparing to return to the police station after a quick trip back home.
"There is no way one man could have gotten all those shots off, not when
the pilot and the two agents were all armed too."

"Someone on the ground helped him, and fired some of the shots?" Brad
surmised.

"Has to be, ballistics will prove it, I'm sure," Jack concluded.

"Secret Service and FBI are all over this, basically all they want me and
my guys to do is control the influx of media traffic, and say,'Hey, here
she is!' should ol' Heloise come wondering into town miraculously," Jack
said wryly before leaving.

Meanwhile, the air inside the space was musky and damp.  Heloise Cliffords
awoke groggily.  She groaned, noting that her head was pounding from the
pistol-butt strike she had received while struggling as they had taken her
out of that van the night before.  "My God, Blake!" Was her next thought.

Sure, he had been an egotistical womanizer too many times in the past and
was still a jackass at times, but dammit she really did love him –
contrary to the opinion of too many.  Was he even still alive?  She
struggled, realizing her wrists and ankles were both tightly bound.  At
least they hadn't gagged her – but did that mean that wherever this is
was somewhere that no one could ever hear?

Blake Cliffords awoke with an even worse headache than his wife was having
just then.  "Wha-where am I?" He rasped weakly.

"He's awake!" One of the several armed agents guarding Cliffords' room in
UK Hospital shouted.  Soon a doctor and nurse came running to examine the
former leader.

Several minutes later, the doctor was talking to Blake, who was very alert
now in spite of what he had gone through the night before.  "You are very
lucky, Mr. President.  The bullet grazed your right temple area rather
deeply, but there obviously seems to be no permanent damage.  You do have a
concussion as well from your fall after being shot."

"What can you tell us about what happened?" Asked one of the agents.

"All I remember," Blake replied, "Is the helicopter was going down, and the
pilot was shouting to the co-pilot, what the fuck was he doing.  The next
thing I remember is waking up a few minutes ago.  Where is Heloise?"

The decision had been made by Churchill Downs officials, at the
recommendation of the governor, to take the unprecedented step of
postponing the Kentucky Derby.  The race would be rescheduled as soon as
possible.  All of Kentucky, even those who were vehemently opposed to her
politics, was focused on coverage of the search for Heloise Cliffords and
her captor, as was much of the nation.

One short, bald, sweaty and completely deranged man in Rosemont, Kentucky
cursed at the TV screen in his ratty little apartment on Rosemont's bad
northeast side.  He was no fan of the Cliffords, but it was Jock Twitty
that he would like to see dead and buried.  Twitty, who was the current
Kentucky Attorney General and also a leading candidate for Governor of
Kentucky was the one man Glenn Perkins hated the most.  And he had intended
to get a final – and terminal – revenge on Twitty at the
now-postponed Derby.

Meanwhile, "Go. Now!  Do it!" a man barked into a phone, from inside a
shadowy and very secure location a few hundred miles away from Pleasant
View.  Ronnie Isaak had finally drifted back off to sleep, worrying about
Gunnar being out helping with the crash investigation, and worrying about
the Cliffords – but worrying even more about the possible connection
this might all have to a certain old nemesis of his.  His fears were
confirmed when the door to the house was busted open, and the next thing he
knew a dozen armed FBI and Secret Service agents were dragging him out of
bed naked, only throwing a sheet around him roughly as they cuffed him,
read him his rights, and drug him out into a waiting van with all the
neighbors gawking.

"Ronald Zachary Issak, you are under arrest for complicity in the
commission of three counts of murder, one count of attempted murder, and
one count of kidnapping," the lead agent had begun.

It wasn't long before it was all over the news that for some strange reason
a nondescript forty-something UPS man in Pleasant View, Kentucky had
apparently been the co-conspirator in the attack on the Cliffords, their
pilot, and the two agents charged with protecting with them.  The other
suspect was the fugitive co-pilot of the Cliffords' downed helicopter.
Jack wasn't having any of it.  Granted, he had no idea that the man he knew
as Ronnie Isaak had once been a secret agent.  Everyone in Pleasant View,
including Ronnie's daughter Destiny Rose and Destiny's mother Josephine,
who had known him as Zach Lewis when Destiny was conceived had actually, to
his relief, bought Ronnie's quickly concocted cover story.  He had told
them that the name change to Ronnie Isaak had occurred when he had
previously been working in Vegas as a lounge singer – as a sort of
homage to his favorite singer Chris Isaak.

"I'm telling you, Ronnie Isaak wouldn't hurt a fucking flea!" Jack growled
to the federal agent who was now in charge of the investigation and who had
arrested Ronnie and placed him in the Burnside County Jail for now.  "He is
engaged to one of our best state troopers and the damn man collects money
for every charity in town.  Model citizen I tell ya!"

"And I'm telling you this is none of your fucking business!" Berkins
thundered.

"But your ballistics – that has to be bullshit!" Jack retorted.

"And I am telling you, Chief, that Ronnie Isaak's gun exactly matches the
bullets that were found in the two agents.  And not even his own boyfriend
can give him an alibi for last night!" Berkins retorted angrily.  That part
was true – Gunnar had to admit that Ronnie had been gone at the time of
the crash – saying he was just going to go for an evening drive that
Gunnar hadn't felt like joining him on.  He would have, Gunnar had to also
admit – had time to have gotten home and made love to Gunnar after
participating in the attack – but obviously Gunnar didn't believe that
for a fucking second and was distraught over his lover's arrest.

"What is all this shit about him being some sort of secret agent, anyway?"
Jack was asking.

"CLASSIFIED!" Berkins practically yelled.  "But, let's just say, he isn't
the unassuming UPS man that you yokels all take him for!"

Just at that moment, Gunnar Donaldson had walked into Jack's office, and
upon hearing Berkins' words, a look of astonishment crossed his handsome
face.

"OK, fuck this, I know who is behind this," Ronnie was soon telling Berkins
and a couple of other agents who were interrogating him.  "You idiots don't
even have as high a clearance as I had, and yet it sounds like you have
already blown my cover."

"It is not our concern if Hooterville now knows that you were once one of
us," Berkins retorted.

"But that's my point, asshole," Ronnie replied evenly.  "Secret Service,
FBI, you guys have no idea what I was involved in, and I'm not just talking
CIA or NSA."  "And that is all the more reason you probably harbored some
sort of grudge that made you want to help Lou DeMonte with his plot to
bring down that chopper and take Heloise Cliffords hostage after trying to
kill her husband the former president, not to mention murdering those two
agents and the pilot," one of Berkins' sidekicks inserted.

"And I am telling you.  If you go high enough on the food chain and tell
them DeLuca Ramirez, they will know who I mean," Ronnie tried to explain.
"HE'S the one who is pissed at ME and is just using the Cliffords as pawns
in this sick game – at which you idiots are helping him succeed – to
frame me in all of this.  Hell, DeMonte may have just been the pilot, he
may not even be in on it either."

"Oh, I'd say bringing down the chopper makes him in on it!" Berkins
snapped.

"Fine!" Ronnie replied, "But it doesn't make ME in on it!  If you want
Heloise Cliffords back alive, you had better find out how to get to Ramirez
and what exactly he wants besides revenge on me!"

That night, Justin was finally back at home with Eric.  All of Pleasant
View's officers had been pulling double shifts, between assisting with the
search for Mrs. Cliffords, herding the influx of the media and the curious,
and just normal Pleasant View police work.

"Hey babe," Eric greeted him as he walked into the living room.

"Hi darlin'," Justin said, coming over and greeting Eric with a kiss and a
warm embrace.

"Anything?" Eric asked, although he already knew the answer from seeing the
continuing coverage on the cable news.

"Fuck no," Justin replied wearily.  "For all I know Heloise Cliffords may
be far away from here by now.  My gut tells me she is not, though.  I wish
we could find her, obviously.  But, right now I'm just tired as hell."

"How about the hot tub before dinner?" Eric suggested with a smile.

"Oh my God that sounds heavenly," Justin agreed, smiling back.

Nude, the two lovers relaxed in the hot tub.  Soon they were embracing,
then kissing passionately.  This went on for a long while, before they
eventually began to make love on their deck next to the hot tub.

"Fuck me harder!" Justin gasped as Eric was inside him.

"Mmm! Yeah!" Eric grunted in heat.

The flames of their passion rose higher and higher until they both had
reached a shattering, and much-needed climax.

"I love you baby," Eric whispered in Justin's ear.

"You too, babe, so much," Justin replied.

Meanwhile Heloise Cliffords stirred from the sleep that had overtaken her
tired body earlier.

"OK, you stinky bitch!" came the voice on the other side of the flashlight.
"Feeding time at the zoo!"

It was true, she supposed, she did stink.  She had soiled herself in her
captivity and her bonds were really hurting her wrists and ankles.  The
vicious bitch was at least feeding her once a day, Heloise thought.  And
she supposed it was a bonus that along with all of her ridiculous extreme
right-wing rhetoric the food apparently was not poisoned.

"Look, you'll never get away with this," Heloise tried wearily.  "Let me
out of there and I'll seek immunity for you.  I know you are not the one
behind all of this, and they are just using you."

"Shut up, bitch!" Thundered her female tormentor.  "And open up."

Heloise chocked down the sandwich her evil attendant held to her mouth, and
thirstily drunk the proffered water that came next.  "Please," Heloise
tried, her resolve steely.  "Think of what you are doing here!"

"Fuck off, and see you tomorrow!  And don't forget, yell all you want,
cause ain' nobody gonna hear you!" Was the only taunting reply the woman
made before turning and disappearing back away into the murky dampness of
wherever the dark place was that Heloise Cliffords was being held captive.

A few hours away, a young man cursed.  So he wouldn't finally get his
revenge today after all.  But he WOULD get it.  Destiny Rose was supposed
to have been singing at the Derby, and he was sure she still would be
whenever it was rescheduled.

As Justin and Eric stepped from their post-lovemaking shower, Justin's cell
was ringing.

"It's Chief," Jack said.

"What's up, sir?" Justin asked.  Although they were best friends and
sometimes sexual playmates, Justin and Jack were all business with one
another when it came to police business, as this call clearly was from the
start.

"I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to have you come back in," Jack
replied, sounding exhausted himself.  "I just came back in myself.  On top
of all the other shit going on in this town right now, Julie Moore's little
girl Emily has gone missing.

"I'll be right there, Chief," Justin replied, clicking off his phone.

Meanwhile, "Hello, lady, who are you?" came a small voice out of the
darkness, holding a dim flashlight.

"Hello, who's there?" Heloise Cliffords replied wearily.