DOLLY Read online

  DOLLY

  MEASHA STONE

  Copyright © 2020 by MEASHA STONE

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Fair Warning

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Kristoff

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Also by MEASHA STONE

  Fair Warning

  Dolly is a dark, twisted, psychological thriller involving those that have killed, and those that will be killed. If you find any of these things to be triggering or unappealing, please turn back now.

  To everyone else…you’ve been warned.

  One

  DOLLY

  A blast of light drowns me in my cell. I scramble to the corner, as if that will keep them away. Huddling in the corner, dirty, naked, cold, shivering against the cinderblock walls…it’s not a turn off—not to them.

  “There’s a good girl,” a familiar voice cracks through the silence. I cover my ears, pressing my hands to them as though it will drown him out.

  It never has.

  Not the other dozens of times he’s come for me.

  “Come now, Dolly. It’s time to play for the camera.” The cell door creaks as it opens, and my body stiffens. The casual slap of his boots on the concrete floor sends ice through my veins.

  I can’t do this.

  Not again.

  Please.

  Begging doesn’t work.

  It only makes him mad.

  Still, I scream the pleas in my head, over and over again.

  Maybe God will hear this time.

  Maybe he’ll send help.

  Maybe I’ll simply die and this will finally be over.

  “Up you go.” His clammy hand wraps around my upper arm. “Someone needs a bath first.” He sniffs my hair. It’s tangled and matted from last night. The man made a mess, and no one cleaned me up.

  “Let’s go.” He drags me to my feet and hauls me from my cell.

  “No!” The words fall out before my mind blocks them. I yank and pull, kick at his fat shins, but I get nowhere.

  “Enough!” he yells.

  Another bright light blinds me. Stars and sunrays dance in my vision, the sharp pain in my jaw lost among the aches of my muscles.

  I crumble in his grip. The fight, what pathetic amount I had, is gone.

  I’ve been here too long to be so stupid.

  My feet shuffle along the floor. I let him shove me into the stall.

  “They’re wanting a little girl today. Your specialty,” he says as he turns on the water. Ice cold drops hit my face. A shudder breaks the tension in my back. “A few bows, some pigtails—you’ll do real good.” He shoves a bar of soap in my hand. It’s filthy, just like everything else here, covered in the dirt and grime of those who came before me.

  “Won’t you, Dolly?” he presses for an answer, like I can make my throat work to produce anything other than a sob.

  “Won’t you.” His hand rests on the coil of rope he keeps hooked to his belt.

  I don’t want the rope.

  “Yes. I’ll be a good dolly,” I promise. “A good dolly,” I say again as I run the bar of soap over my aching breasts and between my legs.

  Tears well up in my eyes, but they get lost in the spray of the shower.

  Clean and pure.

  It’s what sells.

  It’s what keeps me alive.

  So far.

  Two

  DOLLY

  “Food’s here.” A tray drops onto my cell floor. Water sloshes out of the shallow cup and puddles on the concrete.

  I tense in my corner. Until he backs out and locks the cell door, I’m on alert. It’s been two days since I was dragged upstairs for another scene. I’m sure I won’t be given another day of reprieve. They have tight schedules to adhere to. It’s what they tell me when they shove me into the dark rooms. I need to hurry. I need to keep up. I need to shut the fuck up and spread my legs.

  “Eat.” He toes the tray toward me. Why hasn’t he left yet?

  It could be a trick. If I reach for it, will he snag it away? They like to do that. A small gesture of comfort ripped from my grasp. It’s entertainment for them.

  Pangs grip my stomach just smelling the burnt hotdog. I’m too hungry to risk the tray disappearing and he’s not leaving, so I crawl across the cold concrete, each movement making the bruises on my knees throb. His approving grunt fills my cell. Scurrying like a scavenger for the food tossed my way must please him. The more they treat me like an animal, the happier they seem to be.

  Picking up the metal tray, I lean back against the cot frame, cradling it on my folded legs. Only taking a small sip of water, I quench a fraction of my thirst. If I drink it too fast, I’ll throw it up again. I made that mistake already and paid the price. I won’t be stupid again.

  “Go on. Eat.” He still won’t leave.

  “Am…am I going upstairs today?” It’s a big risk, asking him that question. But not knowing is making my chest tighten. I’ve always been a worrier. Since I was a little girl. What if the sun got too hot? What if it started snowing and never stopped? Always more questions than answers. I could drown in questions. Sitting in my cell, not knowing what’s planned for me…it sucks the air from my lungs.

  “You want to?” he asks, amusement in his tone. “You’re eager to get to work.”

  I shake my head and take a small bite of the hotdog. It’s blackened from a fire, but it’s cold. My stomach doesn’t care.

  “When…when can I go home?” I’m pushing my luck, but the question leaks out between bites.

  “When Bossman says you can.”

  Bossman. He makes all the decisions—none of them good for me.

  “Please. Just let me go home.” I raise my eyes to look at his face. Thick black stubble covers his chin. His lips bubble between his mustache and beard.

  “I just told you. When Bossman says you’re done. Not until then.” He bends down and grabs the tray.

  I snag the cup of water, quickly gulping the last few sips. A drop escapes and lingers on my lips. They’re so dry, it burns, but I lick it up. I need every bit. I need to get stronger. I need to get my head clear and my legs to move. I need to find a way out of here.

  Bossman says he’ll let me go, but he’s lying. It’s been days…or weeks…or months. Time doesn’t exist in this cell. Sun doesn’t exist. There’s no day, no night, only upstairs and downstairs. He’s not going to let me go. I have to start thinking of a way out.

  “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Pathetic, I know. A sign of how stupid I’ve become. It’s not a ploy or lie, though. I couldn’t even imagine
telling anyone what goes on here. How could I explain the things I’ve done—the things I’m going to do next time they drag me upstairs?

  “Of that, I’m certain.” Laughing, he steps back out of my cell and slams the door. Metal clanks against metal as he slides the lock in place.

  “Please.” I crawl to the door, gripping the bars. I hate this part: the begging. It goes unanswered, but his eyes shine with pleasure. He wants me to crawl for him, to plead with him so he can take away my hope.

  He crouches in front of me, balancing the tray in one hand. Reaching through the bars, he picks up a thick curl and rubs it between his fingers. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. I know you don’t want me to go.” His lips screw into a devil’s grin. “I’ll make sure your next scene is with me. Would you like that?”

  I want to recoil, but that will make him angry—and anger is to be avoided.

  “I want to go home,” I whisper.

  “I’m sure you’ll do your best.” He drops my hair and stands up. His erection strains against his jeans. He lingers to make sure I see it. My reprieve is coming to an end.

  Tears fill my eyes. Why is this happening?

  “Looks like you’re getting some company.” He shuffles to the side as two men scramble into the room, a third hanging between them. His face is swollen, blood dripping from his mouth as one of his escorts opens the cell across from me and tosses him inside. A groan escapes him, but he makes no move to get up.

  “No talking, you two. Behave, Dolly,” Beardman says, tugging on his belt—his favorite thing to use on me. If we’re going to be together upstairs soon, I have to be good. I can’t give him reason to use it. And now that I have food in my stomach, I can think clearer. I can keep myself from getting into trouble.

  Beardman says something to the other two, and they all laugh as they walk back to the door. The door leading out of the basement is flush with my cell. Their heavy steps rattle the wall my cot is pressed against. It’s the first warning that someone’s coming. A cot and a bucket is all I have. If I lay down flat on the floor, I can almost touch my toes to one wall and my hands to the other. The other cell isn’t as nice as mine.

  Once they’re gone, I scramble to the bars. The light in my cell goes out when they close the door. A single bulb at the end of the hall flickers, illuminating my cell in a dank yellow. I blink a few times, trying to focus enough to see more than a shadow of the figure across from me. His body is contorted, but his face is turned toward me. His jaw is swelling. A thick lock of hair has fallen over his eye. Dark bruises cover his back, but it’s the blood that sends my stomach into a twisted storm of worry.

  A steady stream flows from his ass. And on his right cheek, there’s a small tattoo. Even in the dark, I can make it out.

  B

  Whoever he is, he belongs to Bossman.

  My fingers flutter over the matching ink on my right buttock.

  We both belong to Bossman.

  New tears build and spill.

  I’m never going home.

  Three

  BRIAN

  Raindrops roll down my back as I remove my coat. Fucking storm. Half the county is in a blackout, and I’m starting my day soaked through.

  “Hey,” Cathy greets me with a thin-lipped smile. I shake out my coat and dump it in the empty chair at my desk.

  “Morning. Just give me a minute, I need to change.” I start unbuttoning my shirt as I turn for the locker room.

  “That can wait.” Cathy puts a hand on my arm. “Captain wants us.” She jerks her head toward the corner office.

  “Yeah, okay.” I grab my phone from my coat and slip it into my back pocket. If I’m lucky, an emergency call will come in before the captain gets a chance to piss on my day.

  “Brian, Cathy.” Captain Richards looks up from his computer screen. He’s been on the job too long. The creases on his forehead get deeper every year. The bags under his eyes are so heavy, they pull down into his gaunt cheeks. But he’s not going to retire anytime soon.

  “Morning.” Cathy gives him a polite nod and hooks her hands on her hips, ready for whatever bullshit assignment he throws at us. No matter how small, she’s grateful to have a case. No matter what the media might run in their nightly news, a woman shoots down a superior for a nightcap, there’re consequences. First, she gets saddled with me as a partner. Second, she gets shit caseloads.

  We haven’t worked anything serious in nearly a year—my own punishment for having miscalculated the age of a woman I took home after a night at the bar. Also, not realizing she was the daughter of a higher ranking official. Yeah, I was fucked—thankfully not in the literal sense, which is the only reason I’m still carrying a badge.

  “A girl’s gone missing.” He tosses a file down on the desk and flips it open. Light brown hair, sweet features—wholesome.

  “Okay.” I pick up the picture. Nothing out of the ordinary about her. Pretty, but that’s not exactly rare these days with filters.

  “Abigail Johansen. Twenty-three. Missing for two months now.”

  “Two months and she was just reported?” Cathy asks.

  Captain shakes his head. “No. Her parents reported her missing right away. She was supposed to meet them for dinner and never showed. Think you can hold your questions ’til the end?”

  Cathy’s shoulders roll back, but she only nods. “Yes, sir.”

  He straightens to his full height, pulling his pants up at the waist. “Good. Now…” he points to the picture, “Castro and Evans worked the case until the trail went cold. The parents resolved themselves to the idea the girl’s dead. But there’s been a report Abigail was spotted.”

  If he doesn’t want questions until the end of his spiel, he should hurry the fuck up and get to the point.

  “I’m putting you on a taskforce that’s tracking down several leads. Castro and Evans are being put on another case, so you’re stepping up.” He frowns. “If I had anyone else available, they’d be going, but as it is, you two are it.”

  “Well, your confidence in us doesn’t go unnoticed.” I throw him a wide grin.

  “Right.” He pushes the file toward me. “You’ll meet up with the taskforce in an hour.”

  “A taskforce for one missing girl?” Cathy asks.

  “No. They have bigger targets than just Abigail Johansen, but she fits the profile of a group they think has been abducting women and putting them in their underground porn flicks.”

  “A sex ring?” This case just got a whole lot more interesting.

  “That’s how she was spotted. In a movie. They’ll get you up to speed.” He waves us away.

  I scoop up the file and take one more look at the picture before tucking it inside the manila folder. Cathy’s already gone back to her desk. She won’t spend any more time in his presence than warranted. Captain grins at her retreating form through the window of his door. He’s never gotten his cock in her, but he’s fucked her good, and he knows it.

  I clench my jaw. Saying anything won’t improve her situation—or mine. For now, we work the cases given to us and keep our mouths shut.

  “And…uh, Brian,” he says as my hand comes down on the door handle, “if by some chance you actually find the girl, try not to stick your dick in her, okay?”

  “I’ll do my very best.” I wink, then get the fuck out of his office.

  “We’re getting put on a taskforce?” Cathy tries to hush her voice, but she really only has one volume.

  “Looks like.” I toss the file on my desk. “I’m going to change my shirt.” My coat has created a nice puddle beneath my chair.

  “Why would he put us on a taskforce like that? It sounds like a big case.”

  “Because there are two spots to fill and we’re expendable. Gets us out of his hair for a while.” I tap the file folder. “Worse case, we’re put on grunt duty.” Which will piss me right the fuck off and may push me to finally give up my badge. “Best case, we get to do some actual work and find these girls who are probably living
in hell right now.”

  She eyes the file with skepticism. Nothing good has been handed to either of us in the past six months.

  “Maybe our punishments are finally over.” I smile. Although I will eventually be forgiven, Cathy will have to endure the Captain’s loaded comments and creepy stares until she manages a transfer.

  “Go change your shirt. I can see through the cheap ass material.” She takes the file to her desk, and I make my way to the locker room, the image of Abigail Johansen flashing behind my eyes. Pretty enough girl to catch the depraved attention of wicked men. My years on the force send my imagination into overdrive, but nothing I come up with can probably compare to hell she’s living—the debauchery she’s facing.

  I burst into the locker room. Our careers aside, worst case, we find the girl dead—or would that be the best case?

  Four

  Dolly

  “Looks like Ken is still sleeping.” Beardman is back.

  I roll onto my side, tucking my knees as far up to my chin as I can. I’m tired, so tired.

  “C’mon, Dolly. Playtime.” The keys jangle as they work into the lock.

  I shake my head, but don’t dare make a sound.

  “We need to dress you up.” He’s inside. His feet shuffle over the concrete, and an eerie chill climbs down my spine. He’s standing over me. If I keep my eyes closed, will this all go away?