Part 23 (1/2)

He ran his hand down her sides and her legs. He stayed away from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and groin and rump. Pen was impressed. Maybe I've got him wrong, she thought. Maybe he's okay, after all.

'Okay, you're clean,' he said. He snapped a cuff around her right wrist and pulled her arm down behind her back. He brought her left arm down, pulling her away from the wall, and snapped the other cuff around her wrist. 'Any questions?'

'Got a key for these?' Pen asked and turned around. And saw the look on his face.

'Now the prisoner is in my control.'

' Harrison.'

'You're under arrest.'

'Let me go.'

'Uh-uh.'

She backed against the wall. 'Don't.'

He reached behind her neck to untie the cords of her gown.

'I'll scream.'

'Then I'll stuff something in your mouth, and that'll make it a little tough for you to breathe. Just relax.' The cords loosened. He drew them down, uncovering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His eyes were gla.s.sy, his face deep red. He pulled at the gown until it slipped to Pen's feet. He licked his bps. He squeezed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

'I'll have you arrested,' she said, her voice shaking. 'You'll get disbarred.'

'Bulls.h.i.+t. It's common knowledge you've been going with me. You came over here after an expensive dinner. Who's gonna believe you were forced into anything?' His hands slid down her body. He pushed his fingers under the elastic of her pantyhose.

'b.a.s.t.a.r.d!' She kneed him, but missed the target, caught him instead in the thigh.

He cried out, staggered backward, then lunged at her, a shoulder driving her hard against the wall. A fist smashed her belly. Breath blasting out, she sagged.

Then she was on the floor, dazed and fighting for air as he yanked the pantyhose down her legs. 'It's time, baby,' he muttered. 'It's time.' He pulled her panties off. 'Time to pay the piper, babe. Can't string a guy along forever.' He tugged his belt open. 'A guy can just take so much. What does it take, huh? I'm not good enough for you? Maybe you're a d.y.k.e, huh? Is that it?' He flung his slacks aside.

'b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' she gasped.

'That's me, that's me.' He tugged down his underpants and stepped out of them. 'And what are you? f.u.c.kin' iceberg. What's it take to get in your pants, huh? Act of f.u.c.kin' Congress?' He made a sharp laugh. 'Handcuffs, that's what it takes.' He kicked her legs apart, dropped to his knees between them and tore off his s.h.i.+rt.

'Don't.'

'Time to pay the piper, babe. I'm gonna f.u.c.k your brains out. And know what? You're gonna like it. Yeah. When's the last time you got your brains f.u.c.ked out?'

'No!'

What did he say?

f.u.c.k your brains out.

Did he really say that? That's what the guy on the phone said.

Pen felt tears trickling from the corners of her eyes.

She was slumped backward on the sofa, teeth clenched, pillow squeezed to her chest, legs pressed together so tightly that they ached. She sat up. She wiped her tears on the shoulder of her blouse. Her right ear felt wet inside. It had caught a tear. She wrapped a fingertip with her s.h.i.+rttail and swabbed out the ear.

Christ, the rape.

Harrison had been very apologetic about it. Later that night. The next morning on the telephone. He'd even sent a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Pen knew he wasn't remorseful, just afraid she might tell on him.

I was drunk, I didn't know what I was doing.

You knew, all right.

I'm gonna f.u.c.k your brains out.

Could Harrison be the one who phoned Friday night? The voice hadn't sounded like his. Maybe he disguised it.

But why would he call me? He and Joycea It wasn't him, Pen told herself.

Are you sure?

She went into the bathroom. She blew her nose. In the mirror, her eyes were red, the lids pink and swollen. They narrowed suddenly.

She hurried into her office. The tape ca.s.sette was still in the answering machine where Melanie and Bodie had left it. She rewound and played it.

Listening to the voice, she saw Harrison kneeling over her, naked. Her stomach clenched. Her heart pounded. Her legs felt weak. She was on the floor, Harrison thrusting into her, biting her, her arms cuffed behind her back fiery with pain, the foul words filling her head.

Then came Joyce's voice. She switched off the answering machine and sank onto the desk chair.

The voice hadn't sounded at all like Harrison.

The man who'd made those filthy calls, who'd left the note under her door, wasn't Harrison.

But he had Harrison 's soul.

'f.u.c.k you, buddy,' she muttered, 'and the horse you rode in on.'

Bodie finished reading the Traffic Collision Report and pa.s.sed it to Melanie. The detective on the other side of the desk was busy at his computer terminal. He was a touch typist, and fast. Hardly fits the stereotype of the two-fingered cop, Bodie thought. But then, this is Beverly Hills. He supposed that Beverly Hills cops weren't quite typical.

When Melanie finished reading, she set the report on the detective's desk. He swiveled his chair and faced them. 'Did you find what you were looking for?' he asked in a pleasant voice.

He looked younger than Bodie.

'There was only the one witness?' Bodie asked.

'The spouse? She's the only one we know about at this time.'

'What happens now?' Bodie asked.