Adult language, situations, nudity violence
Friends help you move, real friends help you move bodies
T-Shirt / Bumper Sticker
I only understand women enough to know I shouldn’t marry. As an example, my relationship with Courtney.
“Carl, I have to go out of town for about two weeks. Would you mind house sitting?” Courtney asked.
That explains why for the first time in almost five months, that she invited me over for dinner. I live about an hour away, but she lives closer to town, than my family’s former vacation home. “How about I just check on your place periodically?” I didn’t want to leave my palace unattended for that long.
I really wanted to ask her about the bruise under her left eye. Tomorrow it would be a shiner.
Biting her lower lip, she said, “No, that won’t work. I’d rather have you here full time. I should warn you, if you do, it’s a Class A felony.”
That caught me up short; Courtney would be the last person I would expect to commit a felony.
Courtney is my sister-in-law. My kid brother Greg was still using training wheels when I joined the Marine Corps. During my time away, we kept up steady of letters to each other. When our parents died during his junior year in college, I talked him out of dropping out.
It worked; he first got his Engineering degree, then job with a national engineering firm. They paid for his Masters. Two months after he got his Masters, he married Courtney. That was four years ago.
Courtney is an attorney. At the time, she was working for the local ACLU chapter. Politically, she tilted so far left; I’m surprised she could walk upright. She calls me her favorite Neanderthal Fascist Storm Trooper.
I think she’s joking about me being her favorite Neanderthal Fascist Storm Trooper.
I retired after 25 years in Federal service (10 years Marine Scout / Sniper, the other 15 was with other, unnamed Federal Agencies). Growing up, we had a vacation home near here, and we both liked the area. I moved into the vacation home. Being an hour away, we could get together easily, but not be in each other’s hip pocket.
That changed a year and half ago. Two local rich kids were playing wantabee gangsters. The details don’t matter, Greg died almost instantly, Courtney was pretty badly mess up. Her mom is in bad shape; her father had to take care of his wife. Her two brothers lived across the country. That left me to help her pick up the pieces.
I spent enough time in rehab, I knew how to help her.
It took almost six months, but physically she healed. Emotionally was another matter. Before, she was dark blonde version of Brook Burns. Unless she was in court, she had a wide smile and laughed easily. I could why my brother fell in love with her.
The after Courtney never smiled, had dead eyes, and well face it; Courtney was just going through the motions of living. She left the ACLU, and went to work for a foundation specializing in charitable donations for historic preservations and nature work.
During this time, the criminal case against the two jackasses wasn’t going well. You know the old saying prosecutor can indict a ham sandwich. This DA couldn’t find a sandwich in a Subways.
The final straw was the only three pieces of physical evidence they had. While they were sitting in the police evidence room, one disappeared, the second suddenly the contents didn’t match the outside label, and the third the seal broke.
The judge dismissed the case. Even I could see she didn’t have choice. Courtney’s reaction, well, she was acting strange the last time we met. I had hopefully talked her out of doing anything stupid.
Four months ago, the probable reason why the case went south became public. The FBI arrested the local DA Stephan Rossi for bribery, corruption, evidence tampering, and mail fraud. While Greg’s case wasn’t listed, as the saying goes, the investigation was ongoing.
The past tense is simple. After he bailed out, Stephan Rossi was holding a press conference on the steps of the Federal Courthouse. During the middle of it, someone blew his brains out.
I’d been working part time helping train the local SWAT snipers. Since I didn’t have an alibi, I was prime suspect. That was until they found out I didn’t own a .223 / 5.56 mm weapon, and the casing they found on the roof had come from a State Police M-16.
I guess Courtney never told the police that I use to keep a.308 rifle set up to use a sabot round which allow you to shoot a .223 bullet out of a .308 rifle.
Courtney was leading through the basement. “We were going to set this room as a wine cellar, have some chairs and table for tastes,” Courtney said. She pulled back a bookcase revealing a push lock door.
Courtney’s eye finally had some life in them. Only problem, the emotion was desperation.
After checking the spy hole, she punched in the combination, and opened the door. When I walked in I saw a naked dark hair woman. Her arms were pulled back in a tight strappado. The arms were high enough to force her head down.
Her legs were straddling a wooden triangle with the apex in her crotch. Her ankles were strapped to base. I couldn’t see much of her face the hair wasn’t blocking, due to the gag and blindfold on them. Despite the coolness, she had a sweat shine on her skin.
She didn’t flinch too much as I traced the calluses among the welts, cuts and abrasions on her back, buttocks and the soles of her feet. Add in the restraint marks on her calves, thighs, abdomen, and upper arms, I got a quick read on what Courtney had done to her.
I must have gone pale, since Courtney asked me, “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to faint.”
“Bad memories,” I said. “I’ve been in her position.”
If I had any questions on what the marks on her body meant, all I had to do was check the scars I have in the same spots. I don’t have any trouble remember what caused them.
Despite the covering on her face, I could see her wince when her head whipped around to face me when I spoke.
Courtney was lower the rope holding her arms up. “I figure 90 minutes like this is enough punishment for hitting me. I was going to chain her to the pole, so she could be properly displayed for you. She managed to head butt me, so I had to punish her. You think after four months, she would have learned.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Jessica Rossi,” Courtney said, “As in Stephan Rossi’s daughter. I knew Greg’s case couldn’t have gone wrong that badly without help. There have been rumors about corruption in the DA’s office for years. I wanted Rossi to suffer. The last time we saw each other, you didn’t see interested in doing anything about the DA, so I didn’t ask you for help as I had planned.”
Swatting Jessica’s butt, Courtney added, “I know how much a father dotes on his only daughter, even a rebellious one. Jessica left law school after her first year and became a Coyote Ugly bartender. You know the chain that.”
Interrupting, I said, “I’ve been to one.”
Well, it’s not the place to a quiet drink, but it was interesting to watch. I think I like the parts of the CMT special I’ve seen than the part of the movie I’ve seen.
Jessica had perked up when she heard my voice, but has deflated since I hadn’t freed her. “How long have you had her?”
“I kidnapped her two days before her father’s arrest,” Courtney said. “I was going to send pictures of her in as pitiful state was possible to her father. I thought watching the news about her father’s arrest would be tormenting to her. I wanted her broken in spirit. They had just finished showing his Perp Walk, we were watching the press conference. She saw her father’s death live. That put her in shock for two days. ”
Putting the naked woman out of my mind, I turned so she was out of my sight line. “You could get away with sending pictures once or twice,” I said. “After that, you’d probably get caught.”
“Yeah,” Courtney said drawing the word out. “What about Michael and Tony?”
Michael and Tony were the two assholes that killed Greg. Six weeks after they got out of jail, Michael wrapped his Porsche around a tree killing him, putting Tony in the hospital with 80% burns across his body. He’s also paralyzed from the neck down.
Courtney thinks I have the skills and ability to have sabotage Michael’s car. The police listed it as an accident.
Who do you think is right, Courtney or the cops?
“Carl,” Courtney said. “I had a blood test done on her, no drugs or STDs. If you want to while you’re taking care of her, you can take her.”
“You all ready raped her,” I said quietly. That could be the only way Courtney could suggest something like that.
“It was a couple of days after her father’s death,” Courtney said. “She came up fighting something fierce, I finally got her tied down, the next thing I knew, I was naked and raping her.”
“Look, I’m not gay or bi-sexual,” she said defending herself. “But the sex is like nothing I’ve had.”
‘Yeah,’ I said to myself. I knew all about that. Absolute power over someone, for some reason that always seems to make the sex better for the dominate one.
Hell for the victim, something else Jessica and I have in common.
“If you’re not going to house sit for me, let me know what you’re going to do” Courtney said. “If you’re going to free her, I’ll wait in the bedroom for the cops.” Jessica perked up again enough to shake her head in agreement.
I wonder if that means she’ll shoot herself or take pills and overdose. I couldn’t see her going to jail.
“If you’re not calling the cops,” Courtney said. “At least help me get rid of the body after I kill her.” Jessica started shaking her head no.
I looked at Jessica and Courtney. It looked like they had the same expression on their faces, wondering what I was going to decide.
First time in my life, I understand women. Just wished I didn’t understand quite as well as I do on what both of them are going through.
What in the hell do I do now?