Special Victims Unit/Chapter 5
Chapter 5: Too early for this
Carola emitted an irate groan as the sound of her phone woke her.
“Alarm clock off,” she mumbled wearily, as she buried her head in the pillow.
But the sound continued. And then she realized it was not the sound of the alarm clock, but the special call sound, exclusively for calls from Indra and Stephen.
“Oh god damn! What now? What time is it anyway? Okay, answer the call, voice only.”
“It's six twenty-five, miss Answer. Switching to voice.”
“Sorry to disturb you Carola,” she heard Indra's voice, “but we have another victim. A police car is on its way to the hotel to pick you up.”
“Damn! A victim at this time of night? It's too early for this!”
And yet, adrenalin started flowing. Carola's grogginess fell, and she swung her legs out of the hotel bed.
“I'll need coffee, though. Do you think …”
“There's a fresh cup waiting for you in the car. Can you be in the lobby in five minutes?”
“In two. Make the car go faster.”
The bedroom was large and luxurious, with Victorian style decorations. A huge four-poster bed dominated the room. In the bed, a middle-aged woman was sobbing, while a police officer tried to comfort her. A police doctor was just packing up his tools.
“Examination done?” Carola blurted.
The doctor nodded.
“Get her out of here! I'll talk to her later. I need some quiet now.”
The woman started sobbing even harder, as the police woman tried to usher her out of the room.
“Carola, please, behave!”
Carola shot Stephen a piercing look, but she knew he was right, so she said nothing and waited until the victim was escorted out.
“Okay, what do we have?”
Stephen and Indra knew their boss well enough. When she was in this kind of mood, she didn't want to look first and talk later. She wanted facts, and she wanted them now.
“Same method of entry, same method of sedation. No note found yet. Victim was still sedated when we arrived, doctor gave her something to make her wake up faster.”
“Who found her? Who made the call?”
“Anonymous tip to 911, made from a burner phone, ten minutes after the time of the crime and from right outside the house. Caller used text to speech. Phone has already been retrieved, it was left here in the garden outside the house.”
“And behind that curtain?”
Carola pointed towards a heavy purple drape, hanging from the ceiling all the way to the ground.
“We didn't check yet. We came here just minutes before you.”
Carola grabbed the hem of the curtain and pushed it aside, slowly, careful not to disturb anything.
The first thing the investigators saw was a clothes rack, carrying mostly standard cosplay suits – open crotch catsuits, elephant suits with extendable trunks, and bodysuits designed to look like the most popular child porn stars of the last years.
Carefully moving the drapes further, a cabinet was revealed with a huge collection of toys. Masturbators, dildos, flashlights, handcuffs, a Sybian, anal beads, … the standard collection you'd expect to find in any rich household.
Carola firmly pushed the heavy curtain the last bit to the left, to reveal …
“GOD DAMN IT! THAT MOTHER REJECTING BASTARD!!!”
With one fell swoop, Carola toppled the plastic seat and table, spilling the food that had been stacked on it all over the floor. A mixture of brown coffee and yellow orange juice splattered against the wall, perfectly roasted toast crumbled, greasy sausages and bacon strips landed on the floor, just next to the small sealed jam containers. The cheap plastic plates and cups landed on top of the spilled food. A single leaf of paper slowly fluttered down.
And then Carola froze in place, little tremors going through her muscles as her body tensed.
Stephen and Indra stood by, mouths agape. But eventually Indra acted.
“Carola, are you okay?”
A little touch on the arm, then a rub of her back, and then Indra took Carola in her arms. Carola relaxed, her body went limp, and she only stood thanks to Indra's support. Soon she regained control.
“Damn. Sorry, Indra and Stephen. That shouldn't have happened. Sorry for destroying evidence.”
Stephen hesitantly squatted near the mess and extended his hand to pick up the note.
“Leave it. Let forensics salvage what can be salvaged. I know what it says, it was placed on top of the plate, very visible.”
Indra and Stephen looked expectantly at Carola, as she spat out the words:
“You should not skip breakfast, CA”.
A long silence followed. Then Carola yelled out, frustrated over having to spill out the obvious,
“Don't you two see? It was already personal. But now the motherrefusing limpdick actively taunts me. He knows I'm in a hotel. He knows I get grumpy when I skip breakfast. And so he calls 911 himself, to make sure I get a call before breakfast. He knows I'll skip it to rush here. And then he sets up a hotel breakfast here, the very breakfast I skipped!”
Another silence, as Indra hugged Carola again and Stephen awkwardly patted her back. But then Carola pushed the two away.
“Okay. Thanks. Enough now. Time to talk to the victim.”
The middle-aged woman was on a couch in the room next door. Still sniveling, pressing a paper tissue against her eyes, while two policemen tried to soothe and comfort her. She tensed as she saw Carola enter, but then decidedly brushed the hands of the two officers away.
“So, you are the investigator in charge? The high praised rape specialist?”
“Yes, I am,” Carola answered. Then, after a short hesitation, “and my apologies for before. I should have been more sensitive.”
“Yes, you should. But I'll forgive you if you catch the cumdenier who did this and get them behind bars.”
“No worries, ma'm. If it's the last thing I do. But I need to ask some questions first. Your name, to start with.”
A short look of surprise passed over the woman's face as she replied:
“Dolores Hepburn.”
A brief pause.
“Dolores Hepburn,” Indra then slowly repeated.
“Yes.”
“The Dolores Hepburn? The governor of Texas?”
“Yes. Are you saying none of you recognized me?”
“Sorry, ma'm. I really have no interest in politics. When I don't work, I wind down and enjoy time with my husband, my children, and my sex friends. No politics at our table.”
“So now you probably think even worse of me? First my emotional response that made you snap at me. And now my vanity to not be recognized. You'll probably tell my constituents that …”
“Governor Hepburn, allow me to interrupt you. It was my fault that I snapped at you. I'm sorry to tell you, but we're dealing with a serial rapist. And it bugs me that I can't catch that bloody son of a monogamist. But it was wrong to leash out at you. Also, you can be sure that nothing that we uncover in the course of this investigation will be made public unless we have no other choice.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Now, governor Hepburn, can you tell us what happened?”
“I arrived here yesterday, for a short break. Late at night, of course. Meetings run late, people make calls and demand me on the phone, the usual. I took a scotch, grabbed my magic wand and a porn movie, and by the time I had cum twice I was relaxed enough for sleep. I woke up with a headache and with police in my bedroom, and a doctor who told me I had been sedated, and he had given me a counterdrug. And then he said I had been raped, and he had to examine me. But other than a heavy headache and a sore feeling in my cunt, I am not aware of anything.”
“Nothing unusual when you went to bed? Or when you woke up? Other than the police in your bedroom, of course?”
“Nothing.”
A deep frown appeared on Dolores Hepburn's face as she appeared to reconstruct the events in her head.
“Oh wait. One thing. The curtain that shields my toys and tools from view. I don't recall closing it yesterday after I laid back the magic wand. I always close it when I have visitors, appearances matter. But when I'm alone, I usually …”
Her voice trailed. The frown returned. Then she looked Carola straight in the eyes.
“Yes, I am almost certain I left it open yesterday.”
Stephen nodded his understanding.
“So then the rapist must have closed the curtain. After he …”
A stern look from Carola made him shut up.
Carola swallowed down her third donut as she focused the ever-growing display of photos, notes, and connecting lines on the wall.
“Trip,” she mumbled, barely audible, “Cuffs. Parchment. And now breakfast …”
She whizzed around.
“Wait! The note was on normal paper again, right? Or parchment once more?”
“Forensics has not yet reported, but it looked like normal paper to me.”
“Figures. One hint each time. That cockblocker actually leaves us one hint each time. With a note to make sure we don't miss it.”
“You should take a break … reference to the Orlando trip.” Stephen expanded.
“Don't get tied up … reference to the handcuffs.”
“My notes are not the clues … but the paper used was one.”
“Don't skip breakfast … on a breakfast table.”
“Combined with calling 911 himself, to make sure I would do just that.”
The door flew open and in barged a very upset Brent Gilmore.
“Who has leaked, goddammit!”
“Sorry? What …”
Brent waved a hand and the holo switched to Fucks News Network.
“… fourth victim already. And they aren't random victims, but famous people. Former athlete Sally Ellis, Dwayne Hill's wife, someone in the Hefner mansion, and now Texas Governor, miss Dolores Hepburn. And, according to exclusive information we at Fucks News Network revealed, it might be a personal vengeance campaign against one of the members of the LAPD. Iris, over to you. What do you know?”
“Thanks, Brice. Iris White, reporting live from outside the LAPD main office, where I will enter shortly. But first an update for you, dear viewers. Indeed, Los Angeles is being terrorized by a serial rapist, who seems to have a preference for well known women. But that's not all. A credible source told me that the rapist leaves clues, designed to taunt a high ranking individual in the Special Victims Unit. Stay tuned. After a few messages from our sponsors, I will reveal the identity of that person. And hopefully have them with me, to answer my questions. The public has a right to know!”
She raised her fist, a stance she was known for. Iris White was one of the most annoying research journalists out there, but credit where credit is due, she hardly ever was wrong.
“Miss White?”
Brent Gilmore could sound very nice and cooperating if it was in the interest of his department.
“I trust you are not live yet?”
“That was the condition for this short meeting. But I will not let myself …”
“I don't plan to brush you off. You have your job, to inform the public. I have my job, to get a rapist off the streets. I hope you want that too.”
“Of course.”
“Good. Then you'll understand that we would have preferred to keep this silent. But that's no longer an option. We will cooperate and talk to you, live. But we must know in advance what you know. We can't afford to be caught off guard on air. That would not be in the public interest.”
“And we are back on air! Welcome to Fucks News Network. Over to Iris White, reporting live from the LAPD main office.”
“Thanks, Brice. Iris White reporting, and here with me is Carola Anser, chief investigator of the Special Victims Unit. You may recall her as the investigator that played a critical role in the arrest of the Hollywood Boulevard rapist, last year. But she's been working here for a long time already, boasting an impressive success rate of over 90%. Thanks for joining me on such short notice, miss Anser.”
“Thanks.”
“Before the break, we informed our viewers about the serial rapist that you are now chasing. Information secured by Fucks News Network from reliable sources suggests that this person has a rather personal motive. Can you comment on that?”
“Your source is probably right. We are working on exactly that theory.”
“And can you tell us why you have that theory, miss Anser?”
“Notes. He – or she, we don't know that yet – leaves notes at the crime scenes. And these notes are addressed to me.”
Carola's face remained frozen as she talked. Her voice flat. No emotion showing. Only those who knew her noticed the little twitches in the corner of her eye, betraying how upset she was.
“Can you reveal the text of these notes, miss Anser?”
“No, miss White,” her voice sounding colder, but her face still under control, “I cannot. In the interest of ongoing investigation, we cannot disclose anything.”
“I understand. Do you perhaps have any other clues? Things the rapist might have left at the crime scenes?”
“Damn it!” Gilmore spat, “she did not tell me she knows about the clues, too.”
“Could be she knows nothing and is just fishing. Let's see how Carola handles this.”
Carola's head spun away from the camera towards Iris, eyes spewing fire. But then she regained control, turned to the camera, and answered, with barely contained voice.
“We have excellent forensics experts. So of course, the rapist leaves traces. He or she tries hard not to. But trust me. We will get them!”
“I am happy you say that, because I am sure our viewers will feel much safer once this rapist is safe behind bars. Miss Anser, one last question if I may. You just told us that the rapist leaves notes addressed to you. Does this mean that he or she is someone you know personally?”
A short pause, as Carola considered her reply.
“Well, that's definitely a possible option. Our data analysts are digging through all my past cases, to find everyone who might hold a grudge against me. Being a successful investigator always has the side effect of making enemies.”
Carola forced her mouth into a smile as she said that, but her eyes remained cold.
“But as you already alleged to, especially since the Hollywood Boulevard case, my name has been mentioned on your network, and other networks. So it might still be anyone.”
“Thanks for your time, miss Anser. And good luck with this case. This was Iris White reporting for Fucks News Network. Back to the studio, Brice!”
“How's the analysis of my previous cases? I need an update five minutes ago!”
Indra and Stephen cringed at Carola's tone. They knew her. They had expected it. Just not this bad.
“We called them as soon as Gilmore informed us, to give us what they had. After removing those that are dead or confirmed far away, there were twenty-three left. Fourteen of them were observed on surveillance cams far away from the crime scenes during two or more of the rapes. Six only during one. Only two not at all. Those two, plus five of the six with only one surveillance observation, have been arrested before the segment even aired.”
Carola's tone became a bit less tense.
“What about number six?”
“Warrant issued, but current whereabouts unknown. He'll be taken in as soon as we see as much as a blip of him on our radar.”
“Fourteen plus six plus two makes twenty-two. Not twenty-three.”
“Yes. Jolene Huffling.”
Carola sighed as she recalled the case, ignoring Stephen, as he rattled off the facts.
“Jolene Huffling. Raped, then killed her brother's second husband, driven by jealousy because she had proposed to him, but he rejected her. Raped the victim's brother a week later and tried to kill him, but failed. You figured out it had to be her, and she was arrested as she was already planning a second attempt on the brother's life, before he could wake up from his coma and talk.”
“Didn't she get twenty?”
“Yes, but she got out early, on parole, four years back. Broke parole within a month, completely disappeared since. Suspected to have left the country. Not even sure she's still alive. She would be 86 now.”
“Doesn't seem very likely. Why flee and disappear for so long, and then risk your freedom again? Plus, she never raped women, only men. And … 86? Really?”
Carola nodded.
“Unlikely, but we're not writing anyone off. Who's the other one? That last one from the group of six we caught on surveillance cam for only one of the rapes?”
“That would be Bernd Staufenbacher. We arrested his brother, Albert, two years ago. Worked as a night watch in the Hilton, got mad at his boss when she denied him what he considered a reasonable request. She was knocked out and raped an hour later, all evidence pointed towards Albert, but he denied. Suicided after being sentenced to five years. Bernd blamed us, started making threats, we even got him a restraining order.”
“I recall. Never sat well with me, we had lots of evidence, but it didn't feel like a 100% certain case. His suicide made me doubt my judgement even more. I never blamed Bernd for his emotional response. So why was he not found?”
“He lives alone, in Pasadena. The arrest team found his apartment empty.”
“Abandoned?”
“No. Clean. Food in the fridge. As if he's at work, except he isn't. He works in a restaurant, his shift starts at four. They searched his apartment. No clues at all related to our current case.”
“Our current perp is a pro. He leaves no traces other than those he wants. I would not expect any traces in his home. I assume he'll be picked up when he shows up for work?”
Indra nodded.
“Well, guess there's not much we can do now. I'll talk to the arrested individuals tomorrow. Let them be grated by the regular detectives first, then sweat a night in their cells. I'm going back to my hotel. I need time to think.”
Stephen and Indra looked surprised.
“Not staying here? We still have lots of things to do. We have the files of the seven arrested individuals here, plus the two still on the loose. Don't you want …”
“You go ahead and start digging. I need quiet time. Something doesn't add up in this case, I just know that we are overlooking the obvious. I need to be alone. You do what you think is best for the case, I'll see you tomorrow.”
Impressions of a new world
The large doors of the shop swing open and customers start pouring in. Black Friday sale is always a busy time. Bernie Jones braces himself for what will undoubtedly be a long day.
“Mister?”
A girl's voice draws his attention. At his desk stands a girl. He estimates her to be about eleven, based on her height, her face, the nice bumps on her chest, and her hairless cunny that looks to be too smooth to be shaven.
“Yes, young miss?”
“Can you help me please? This dildo, would it be the right size for me?”
Bernie eyes the girl, then looks at the seven-inch dildo in her hands.
“Depends. I'd say the length is about right, but the girth might be too much for you. Perhaps you should just try it, the fitting rooms are over there. Would you need help?”
“Yes, please. My mom promised to help me, but some boys asked her for sex.”
The girl points to a corner where two adolescent boys double penetrate a woman in her late thirties, while she sucks another.
Bernie takes the girl to the fitting room. He helps her get on the couch, and she immediately spreads her legs so that he can lick and finger her little cunny until she is wet enough. Then he carefully unpackages the dildo.
“Ready?”
She nods.
Bernie carefully slides the toy inside his young customer. First the tip, then slowly further.
“How does that feel, miss? Comfortable? Pain?”
“No, nice,” she moans, “please push it further in.”
There's a bit of pain when he pushes the dildo all the way in. But she indicates it's not too much for her, and that she wants to use the dildo to stretch herself.
“I think it's the right size. I'll take it.”
“Of course, miss. Do you want me to clean and package it? Or do you want me to finish you first?”
“Please finish me. Please pump that dildo in and out until I cum. And stand a bit closer, your dick looks nice. I want to taste you.”
“Of course, miss. I was hoping you would offer that.”
Continue to: >> Chapter 6: Funny how I missed that | Return to: << Chapter 4: Too much of a good thing << Table Of Contents << P.D. Vile's stories