Blood Drive

She steps back from the microphone and the man behind her comes to the front, holding up a hand to stem the barrage of questions hurled at them from the reporters gathered below. “Mrs. Bernard will not take questions at this time. You have copies of the prepared remarks. Thank you for your time.”

Then the two of them are hustled back up the steps by uniformed policemen and into the City Administration Building. I snap off the television and turn to Ryan.

His face is so blighted with disbelief that it breaks my heart. “She thinks Trish did it? What kind of grandmother would say things like that?”

I could answer that question for Ryan, but calling her a “fucking bitch” doesn’t seem appropriate. Instead, I roll my shoulders and exercise a modicum of adult restraint.

“She’s not a very nice lady, Ryan. We can’t do anything about that. What we can do is find out who that computer belongs to and get those men. You and I both know they are the ones who killed Carolyn and probably Barbara Franco.”

I don’t add the possibility that Barbara’s death might have been caught on film. The FBI’s allegations that it could have been offered as a snuff film is something I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around. I can’t imagine how it would affect Ryan.

His jaw sets. “But what will happen to Trish? She can’t be made to go live with that woman, can she? There has to be somebody else who can help her.”

There is. But I can’t tell Ryan yet. I have to have those DNA tests for my family to legally make a claim for Trish’s guardianship. In my heart, though, it gives me a little peace to know we will be able to protect Trish from her grandmother. I also realize I’ve accepted what Sorrel told me.

She’d better be right.

So, unable to share any of that, I point to the backpack. “First things first, Ryan. Let me see those files. Maybe I can catch something you didn’t.”

He looks skeptical at that, but he doesn’t voice any objection. He pulls the laptop out of his backpack and sets it up on the coffee table in front of the couch. He cues it up and swivels it around to face me.

“I can’t watch this again. There are ten files. Each was released and sold separately. The first one is the most recent. They are in reverse chronological order. Hit ‘enter’ to start and hit the ‘next’ icon on the bottom of the screen to go from one to the other.” He throws me a narrowed eye look of warning. “Just those buttons. Nothing else.”

His tone is dry and detached, but his face betrays grim condemnation. I scour my head for something to offer him as a distraction while I go through the files. “Would you like to watch television?” It’s the only thing I can come up with.

He shakes his head. “No. I have homework. I can do that. I would like a drink, though.”

“Great. There’s Coke in the fridge. Help yourself.” I jab a thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

He disappears while I steel myself to start the most despicable chore I have ever had to face. Before I can bring myself to hit the key, though, he’s back. He has a can in his hand and a frown on his face.

“You don’t have any food in there. Don’t you ever eat?”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ryan accepts the explanation that I haven’t any food in the house because I eat out. A lot. It’s a light moment in what I expect to be a very dark afternoon. He settles himself into a chair and pulls a textbook, a battered notebook and a well-chewed pencil out of his backpack. In a moment, he’s mercifully lost in his homework and I force myself to begin my own.

Ryan said the files were in reverse chronological order. I hit the button and the picture snaps into focus. They’ve been taken with a digital camera and the sound quality is not very good. But the pictures don’t need sound.

Trish is on the bed. She’s alone, dressed only in underpants. Plain white underpants that look painfully youthful and i

The man’s voice again, “Oh-oh. Daddy’s home. What did daddy say happens to little girls who touch themselves?”

Trish’s eyes grow big. She’s watching someone approach from the side of the bed. He lifts her, bends her over his knees, and lowers her panties. He applies the palm of his hand to her naked bottom. He spanks her until Trish is kicking her legs and sobbing. Then he stops.

The voice again.“Naughty girl. But now Daddy will kiss it and make it all better.”

Trish is spread-eagled face down on the bed. A man’s head appears and he licks her until she stops crying. Then she’s rolled over and he uses his fingers to bring her to another climax. This time there are no panties in the way. Trish’s face is red with humiliation. She can no more control her physical reaction to the sexual manipulation than she can control her breathing. But the guilt she feels is stamped on her tear-streaked face.

I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until the picture fades into blackout. My hands are bunched into fists at my side. Ryan’s voice makes me jump.

“It’s pretty awful, isn’t it?”

He’s been watching me and I didn’t realize it. I can’t bring myself to look at him.

“It’s worse than awful.” I lower the screen on the laptop. “I’m not sure I can watch anymore.”

He heaves a deep sigh. “That last one is the worst. It’s the reason Trish decided she had to leave. That spanking stuff? It was the first time they did that. The guy hurt her. She knew it wasn’t going to get better.”

I press the palms of my hands against my eyes. “And Carolyn was there?”

He nods. “Trish said she laughed.”

I nearly choke on the fury that’s rising in my throat. What happened to Carolyn wasn’t nearly bad enough. Ryan’s calm, watchful eyes bring me back. He expects me to do something about this. I know I have to watch the video again. I was so drawn in by the horror of what was being done to Trish that I neglected to focus in on the monster who was doing it.

“I have to watch it again. To see if there is anything we can use to identify the guy who hurt Trish.”

Ryan rolls his shoulders. “There won’t be. I’ve looked at it a hundred times. He makes sure his face is always off camera.”

I suspect he’s right. But I reopen the laptop and let the video repeat. This time I concentrate on the scenes with the man. When he first appears to lift Trish off the bed, the camera is kept waist high. He’s wearing jeans and a’t-shirt tucked into a leather belt. His hands are large, his arms ta

When he lays Trish back down on the bed, only the back of his head is visible. His hair is dark brown, long, almost shoulder length, hiding his neck and shoulders. It doesn’t move naturally and it only takes an instant to recognize that it’s a wig. It falls down around his face so that not even a profile is caught on the tape.

I let the video play out, and then I sink back on the couch.

The guy was smart. It would be nearly impossible to make any kind of identification from what I saw. His clothes, jeans, blue’t-shirt, leather belt. Nothing distinctive.

I feel Ryan looking at me again. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

“You’d make a good detective. It’s the same way in the others?”

“Yes. The guys take turns, though, so maybe you’d better watch one of the others. Just to make sure.”

I’m not sure I have the stomach for it, but I know Ryan is right. I cue up the next most recent video and let it play out. This time Trish is dressed in a school uniform, short pleated skirt, white blouse, loafers. The voice directing her is younger, gruffer, and when the “teacher” enters the room, you see a white long-sleeved shirt tucked into unbelted slacks. Again, no jewelry is visible. The “teacher” directs Trish to sit down on the edge of the bed and lifts her skirt. She is naked underneath. He proceeds with the “lesson.” But after he has finished with her, he unzips his pants, and Trish is directed to touch him. He tries, once, to get her to take him into her mouth, but she refuses and he doesn’t press it. Instead, he folds his hands around hers and helps her stroke him to climax. The last frame is cum squirting over the front of Trish’s uniform.