The guard slammed the cell door in his face. “Yah. I’ll let them know.”
The detective thought about Frank’s story. It hung together well, but that girl’s tale was very convincing, too. He re-examined the reports. Sitting up, Murphy grabbed the telephone and dialed the hospital. “Doctor, I’m investigating the rape of Sally Blair. I was reading your description of her injuries. You describe bruising on her eye and cheek, her ribs, and her leg. Did you examine her vagina?”
“Yes. There was no bruising there, but bruising doesn’t always happen in rape cases.”
“Oh. Thank you doctor.” Murphy thought some more, and went home.
In the morning, he was knocking on Sally’s front door. She answered the door with a towel on her head a white terry cloth robe belted around her. “Oh, hello detective. Thank you so much for helping me last night. Would you come in? Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thank you, miss. Do you have anyone staying with you right now?”
“No, not yet. I don’t want to be bothered by people now. Please sit on that chair.” She sat demurely in the corner of the couch near the indicated chair.
“I understand that. Would you mind if I asked you some questions?”
“No, go ahead. How can I help you put that bastard away?”
“Well, your step-father says the sex was consenual…I know, I know, they all do…and that you’re the one that killed your mother. Can you describe for me again the events of yesterday?”
“Do I have to? It’s so embarassing.” She looked away, staring at the floor. “I was getting dressed to practice my cheers, when Frank called me down to spot his stupid weights. I hate that, but I did it. I stood next to him and helped him put the weights up when he asked. I turned to go, but he grabbed me from behind and pulled me onto his lap. I screamed, but he stuffed a sock in my mouth. I could barely breathe. He’d been working out for months and he’s pretty strong now.
“He grabbed at my wrists but only caught the sleeves. I slid my arms inside and struggled to get them free of my cheerleader uniform. He let go of the sleeves and grabbed the collar, pulling it apart and ripping it down. I pulled my arms out through the rip and pushed him away. He was distracted by my bouncing boobs, I wasn’t wearing a bra, I like the feel of them bouncing free. You understand, don’t you officer?” She paused coyly for an answer.
“Fully. Please go on, miss.”
“Well, I managed to push him away for a bit, and turned to climb over the bench. He caught me, and forced me down over it. I knelt there, my naked boobs hanging, and squeezed them cruelly, pinching my nipples till they hurt. Then he lifted my skirt, and stuck a finger roughly into me.”
“You weren’t wearing underwear, Miss Blair?”
“No. I hate underwear. I love the feel of freedom, and the breeze between my legs is so stimulating. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there, officer?”
“Ahem…No. No, of course not. That explains why there were no ripped panties at the scene. Please, continue with your description.”
“Of course. Well, he stuck his finger in me. It didn’t hurt. It felt pretty damn good, in fact.” Sally’s voice lowered, and she spoke hesitantly, “I was telling him to stop, but I liked it. I wanted him to take me. My pussy was dripping wet. Is that right, detective? Is there something wrong with me?” She started to cry.
“No, no. You’re fine. Some women get excited during a rape. Besides, what we found on the computer suggests he was pre-conditioning you, brainwashing, for months before yesterday. You’ve done nothing wrong. Are you all right, miss?”
She nodded. “Could I have some water, please?”
The detective went into the kitchen, filled a glass and handed it to her.
She smiled at him, her tears making pulling at all his protective instincts. “Thank you.” She drank and continued, “he thrust his finger in and out rapidly, yet gently, not bashing into me. I can’t help it.” She moaned. “I came and came all over his fingers. I loved it and wanted more. I begged him to stop, and I begged him to continue. I never had an orgasm before, I didn’t know what was happening to me. He stopped, and knelt behind me. I lay there limply, exhausted. Suddenly something hard stabbed at me, again and again, missing. I squirmed out of his way. He let go of my hands and grabbed my hips to keep me still. He thrust into me, filling me. It hurt, but it felt so damn good, too. I couldn’t help it, I thrust back at him. His filthy penis was jammed deep into me before I could say no. His weight pinned me to the bench, and he groped my boobs again. He thrust and thrust and thrust into me, I was begging him to stop for real, now. Suddenly he stopped, then thrust hard two or three times. I was filled with a strange warmth, and then he pulled out of me. A hot liquid ran down my leg.
“He pulled me up and dragged me upstairs, leaving my top and his shorts somewhere in the garage. He took me in my bedroom and lay on top of me, sucking and biting my nipples…why do men love doing that, detective?”
The detective started. “We just do, miss. We’re all fascinated by the female body, I suppose. Please concentrate on your story. Were you a virgin before yesterday?”
Sally looked at him furtively. He wasn’t looking at her, and there was a bulge in his suit that wasn’t there when he sat down. Good, he wasn’t concentrating on her details. She sipped water and resumed.
“No, I’ve had one other, a boy. Frank raped me again. In my own bed. He even stroked my naked body with my own teddy bear. He spent hours in me and on me. He licked my pussy, and I couldn’t help it. I had another orgasm, shrieking my pleasure at the top of my lungs. He slapped me in the face, then, and that’s how I got this black eye.
“After it got dark, he pulled me out onto the deck, and forced me to put my mouth on his dick. He pushed up and down on my head, his swelling hard-on bumping the back of my throat.”
“Did you think of biting him, miss?”
“No! I was his slave by this time, and my only thoughts were how to please him so I wouldn’t get hurt more. I kept bobbing my head, trying not to gag, when he began thrusting his hips up, crying ‘I’m coming, I’m coming’. He held my head down and shot a hot load of semen in my mouth. He grabbed my hair in a knot and said ‘swallow it, bitch.’ I was too scared not to, and sucked and swallowed until no more came squirting out. Suddenly I was pushed aside. I’m afraid my poor mom had the wrong idea about what she saw and thought I was a consenting partner. She kicked me and pushed me. Frank got up and grabbed the shovel that was in the flower bed…”
“How did he get it, miss?”
“It was leaning against the railing, the blade stuck in the dirt. We’d been re-working the landscaping lately.”
“I see. Go on.”
“My mom went after him, and he pushed her against the wall. When she started to turn around, he swung the shovel…he swung…oh shit! He hit her in the head.” Sally started crying again.
“That’s okay, miss. How did you get out to the road?”
(sniff) “He turned to me and I got up screaming. I grabbed my ripped cheerleader uniform. Did I mention that mom had thrown it at me? No? Well she did that when she first came in. I ran into the street screaming and ran to Mrs. Gonsalez’ house. She called the cops, and the rest you know.”
“I think that will do for now, miss. I’ve seen your garage, your bedroom, and the rest of the crime scene. I like to examine all the evidence directly. Now, I know this sounds like an unusual request, but help me. Would it be possible for you to show me your bruises, while they’re still fresh?”
“You mean now?” Sally was surprised. She knew she was telling whoppers, but was fairly confident that she was getting away with it. Could this detective wreck her story by looking at her marks? She didn’t think so.
“Yes, please. It will greatly help my investigation. I’m sure you want as strong a case against Mr. Anderson as possible. Help me, please.”
Sally nodded. She stood up and held her face to the sunlight in the window, letting the detective stand near her and inspect it. Her eye was swelled almost shut and the bruise her mother had made turned her cheek purple and swelled her nose. “Yes, that black eye looks real painful. It’s about the right age, too. May I see your bruised ribs, please?”
“But I’m not wearing a bra,” she protested.
“I’m a professional miss. I’m married and I have three girls your age. I’ve seen breasts before. I won’t hurt you.”
Sally nodded uncertainly and loosened the belt on her robe. She parted her robe, revealing in full her large right breast, her dark nipple hardening in the cool air. She pulled her arm out of the sleeve and raised it, exposing the bruised rib and giving the detective a clear view. He asked her to turn to the light. The sharp sunlight cast a shadow of her breast onto the floor behind her. The detective moved his face close, examining her ribs carefully. She could feel his body heat and smell his aftershave lotion. His tie dangled to brush the hand holding her robe closed. He lightly brushed the scrapes left by Nancy’s booted foot, his hand seeming to linger on her warm young flesh.
“Yes, yes. That’s totally consistent. I’m sorry if I’m embarassing you, miss, but this is essential. Sometimes people try to frame others and bruise themselves in advance, on purpose. I’m sure you’re not doing that, but Mr. Anderson’s defense attorney will be sure to raise the question. The report said your thigh was also bruised. May I see that, also?”
Sally let her robe go, leaning back and holding her bruised leg out for inspection. The robe flowed around her leg, off her free arm and hung from her other shoulder. Her pubic area was clearly exposed, the womanly swell of her hips accentuated by the curving folds of the robe. The detective knelt in front of her and examined the bruise. It was a violent purple swelling, like the other two, with no sign of the yellowing that marked older bruises.
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