Chapter 37
FINISHING UP
The next morning belonged to the feds. By eight o’clock the kitchen was full of strangers, sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and asking innumerable questions. Sarah sat with them and answered their questions, while Johner, hostile and bad tempered, hovered over her protectively and obstructed their progress.
After a while Donald Heming, the agent-in-charge, pushed his chair back from the table. "Mr. Reilly, we’re not here to hurt her. Do you think you could relax just a little, and give us credit for being human beings as well as cops? We’re aware that she just went through a very, very bad twelve hours. Now our job is to see that her kidnapper has some bad hours of his own! Ms. Connor, can you help us with this guy? You’re both professionals, but you seem to be able to remember that fact easier than he can."
"Well, the first thing you can do is call him Johner, not "Mr. Reilly". He doesn’t respond very well to that. He’s been called Johner all his life."
"Is that OK with you, Mr. R---, uh, Johner?"
"Yeah, better."
Sarah grinned up at Johner, reaching for his hand. He stood behind her like a very large growling dog, ready to bite at any provocation. "Come on, Johner, sit down. We’ve got to get through this, and we want to, really. Come on, babe. OK?"
Johner sat down, looking up from under his brows at Heming with residual hostility, but apologetic. "I’m sorry. I guess I still remember finding her there. I’m just a little touchy this morning."
"We understand that, Mr.---uh, Johner. Now, if we can get back to some questions."
Johner spoke while Heming was looking down at his papers.. "I’ve got a couple for you. Did you find some kind of dart gun? Connor’s got a wound in her right shoulder that looks like it’s from a needle. I think she was shot with some kind of knockout stuff. She doesn’t remember anything after she saw the gun."
"It was ‘some kind of knockout stuff’, all right. It was an animal tranquilizer, one that’s used to subdue vicious dogs. It seems that Dexter befriended an animal control officer who used to come to the warehouse to pick up dog food. The guy says that his dart gun is missing from the back of his truck; we don’t know yet if he’s implicated or if Dexter stole it, but you can bet we’ll find out."
Johner’s head went down and he stared at his hands, which were doubled into fists. "An animal tranquilizer. ---I didn’t think I’d ever hear myself say this, but I’m sorry we don’t still have the death penalty!"
"I wouldn’t be sorry if I were you; the death penalty is too good for him. This guy’s going to spend the rest of his life in a hospital for the criminally insane. We interviewed him at some length last night; he’s a third stage alcoholic, his brain is mostly gone. The rest of his life isn’t going to be very rewarding. Let him die on his own."
*******
There was no trial; Dexter was committed to the state hospital for the criminally insane by order of a federal judge after a psychiatric examination showed him unfit to stand trial. There was no objection from the public defender retained to defend him, the district attorney, or his family, and the case was closed.
*******
Sarah recovered very quickly from her ordeal. Johner was the one who found it hard to put it behind him. He remained vigilantly protective of her, and it drove her crazy.
"Jesus Christ, Johner, I went to the grocery store to get a bug bomb! There are ants in the kitchen again. When are you going to lighten up? You’re driving me to drink!" Sarah set the spray can on the table in front of him with a bang.
"I didn’t know where you were. I came home, and you were gone, and I didn’t know where you were!" Johner’s jaw was set; he stared straight ahead, not looking at her.
She stalked away for a couple of paces, then whirled back to face him. "I’m supposed to leave a note when I go to the store for ten minutes? Maybe I should just get a bunch printed up. Then I can drop them like bread crumbs behind me wherever I go!"
"You weren’t here. I didn’t know where you were." He looked stubbornly straight ahead of him. His body was tense, his fists on the table were white-knuckled.
As she turned again from pacing the floor and looked down at those big hands clenched so tightly in fear for her, her heart hurt her suddenly. Her voice came from her throat soft and husky when she spoke. "Oh, Johner, babe, I know you’re scared, I know you love me, I know, babe." Her arms went around him from behind his chair, and her mouth pressed the top of his head.
His tense pose relaxed as he felt her loving attention. He turned and pulled her around his chair and into his lap. "God, I love you, I want you---." He buried his face in the warm hollow of her neck. From that beloved place he spoke without raising his head. "Connor----could you tell me---you’ve never said exactly what happened while---I wonder a lot what happened---. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s OK, I understand. I just----you know, sometimes when we’re making love I---I’m afraid, Connor. I’m afraid I’ll do something that will remind you of---something bad."
Gently she lifted his face with a hand under his chin. He looked up at her apprehensively. "I thought---maybe I could let it go more if I knew. I imagine stuff that gets me crazy, Connor. Would it be OK with you?"
"Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something before? I didn’t tell you because you never asked; I thought you might not want to know. I don’t mind talking about it at all, but Johner, there really isn’t much to say. When I woke up he had cut my clothes off me, but I think he did it mostly so he could tell you about it. You’re the one he wanted to hurt."
She thought about it for a minute, remembering what had happened. "I was really scared when I woke up and my clothes were gone. That made it not just a kidnapping for money; someone crazy had me tied down naked. You can bet I was scared! But when he came in and I watched him for a little while, I began to be a little less scared, really. I didn’t think any longer about---terrible things. He was just so---blurred---about everything. Including my body; he looked at it like it was a bale of hay! I remember thinking once that the worst thing he’d do was forget about me, and I’d starve to death.
The only time he showed any animation at all was when he talked about what he was going to say to you. He touched my breasts a couple of times, talking all the time about what you would say if you knew it. He---put his hand---in that place that’s only your place, once. But to tell the truth it wasn’t very scary. He had no interest in it for itself, only for how you would feel about it. He just gloated about how you’d feel when he told you what he’d done. I don’t think it even occurred to him that he could tell you he’d done it without actually doing it.
"I sure didn’t at the time, but talking about it now, and I suppose because now I know that nothing bad is going to happen, I feel a little sorry for him, Johner."
Johner’s face twisted. "No! Never! God, Connor, don’t say that! If you knew how scared I was---."
"I know. I know, sweetheart." Her arms were around his neck, and she began to kiss him softly, all around his ear, and down the side of his neck. His eyes closed, and his head bent to the side, giving her more access to his skin. Without opening his eyes, and speaking slowly, through his growing arousal, he said, "I’m glad I asked, I had thought much worse things---. Oh, Connor, do that again---again!"
She whispered into his ear, her breath making him shiver. "It’s only you, Johner. Nothing else matters, no one else is real---."
Groaning at the sensations engendered by her hot breath, he got up, still holding her in his arms, and started for the bedroom.