"Arresting" Officer Pt. 02

DNA analysis showed that all three were attacked by the same man, but he was unknown to police, as his DNA was not on file in the system. It appeared that the cops were going to have to wait for another victim, and hope to get lucky with a witness. So, the investigation stalled.

Months passed. All of this was before Emily's involvement, so while she was aware of it, I was only given the basics. Then a fourth victim was assaulted, and a fifth soon after. The big break came, not from a witness, but from a sharp-eyed lab technician. She noticed that, while the mystery attacker wasn't in the system, and his samples didn't match anything on file, they did have several markers in common with someone who was known to police.

Enough markers to extrapolate a high probability of familial commonality.

The scumbag was someone's brother, and that brother had a record.

That's about the point at which Emily volunteered. She was his 'type', as all the women had been brunette, and slender.

Under normal circumstances, the evidence so far might have been enough to bring the suspect in for questioning, but the circumstances were not normal.

The brother on file, whose name I was not told, had been picked up for driving under the influence of alcohol. He was convicted, despite the extreme measures his family went to, in an effort to save their name. Now, because they had lots of money and a moderate amount of power, they had closed ranks. Both the sons hid behind their parents, and the small army of lawyers that kept the cops away.

Meanwhile, the circumstantial evidence kept piling up. Now that they had an actual suspect, they could compare known whereabouts to the crimes. A pattern surfaced, as the months of dormancy were found to coincide with the whole family being abroad. Someone pulled some strings and found out that at one of the family's destinations, a similar attack had taken place.

Circumstantial or not, it was beginning to look like they had the right guy under investigation, but no judge was willing to open the can of worms that this family had become. 'Give me more, if you want a warrant' they all said.

So, the police observed, as best they could, without being obvious. They compiled surveillance, from several sources, and figured out the suspect's patterns.

Then they dropped Emily in the water, right under his nose.

***

To say I didn't like it would be redundant. I hated it. Every second she was out there, I was a nervous wreck, even though she had walked me through the safeguards they had in place.

Wireless earpiece and microphone.

GPS tracker, sewn into her bra, along with a tiny camera, which recorded onto a chip, likewise secreted in the garment.

A safe-word... 'pumpernickel'... unlikely to come up during regular conversation, but enough to call in the cavalry.

Her Glock was replaced by a much smaller weapon, and would be in her purse, well hidden, should the need arise.

She would be supported by several other officers, and watched from various vantage points.

I still hated it. Yet, it went on, day after day, establishing Emily as someone whom he might like to, um, meet.

And, nothing happened.

Well, actually not quite nothing. She did nab two attempted purse-snatchers, but it was hardly worth the effort. I was beginning to worry that the repetitive failure might lead to complacency.

In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't know about it right away. Finding out after the fact was bad enough, and finding out the way I did was nearly enough to stop my heart.

There was a knock on the door, and I answered it to find one of Emily's friends, a fellow detective, standing there.

"Scott? No!" I gasped, bracing against the door frame.

"No, no, no! It's okay, Davis, she's fine," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "We got him. She got him. She just sent me to get you, and bring you to her. It's all good."

I leaned forward, hands on knees, and caught my breath. Scott waited patiently. Once my pulse dropped to the three-digit range, I grabbed my coat.

"Where are we meeting her? The station?" I asked, following behind him.

"No. That's why she sent me. She doesn't want you driving upset. We're going to the hospital," Scott said, with reassuring steadiness. It didn't work.

"Hospital? You said she was fine?" I balked.

"She is. I promise. But the asshole didn't go quietly. Emily has a few bumps and bruises, so she's there to get checked out. Just procedure," Scott smiled, closing my door and walking around to the driver's side.

Why didn't I believe him?

***

Walking into the hospital, I saw several officers I knew, and everyone was smiling. Okay, that eases my mind a little. It's doubtful that they'd be smiling if she was in danger.

Scott led me to the door, and patted my back.

"Delivered safe and sound," he laughed, and stepped aside.

There, in a bed, was Emily. She looked good, if moderately worse for wear. When she saw me, she smiled.

"Got the bastard!" she grinned. I stepped closer, and hugged her. She was going to have a black-eye. There was a bandage on her head, and her previously damaged left shoulder was in a sling again.

"Can we get you a job as a security guard at an old age home?" I asked. "You're killing me, baby."

"Aww. Don't worry, honey," she giggled, kissing me softly.

"Easy for you to say," I nodded. "Are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to read it in the papers?"

"I'll tell you," she agreed, "but you have to wait for my head to stop ringing. Oh, and you have to let me tell it, without interrupting me with your worries. Deal?"

"Fine," I sighed. There was no use arguing. I had learned that most things were best done her way, even sex.

Mmmmm. Especially sex.

"May I assume that you are benched for the near future?" I asked, gesturing to her shoulder. "I get to take care of you?"

"Yes, my love," she smiled. "Looking forward to it."

"Where are your clothes?" I asked, glancing around the room.

"Over on the chair," she said, tilting her head. "Police sweats. Everything I was wearing is now evidence. So am I, although I've already been processed. You just missed the lab rats. They swabbed, scraped and sampled every inch of me. I'd like to see his family get him out of this one. He's fucked. I hope his cell mate is a black guy, with a huge dick, and a fanny-fetish."

A few minutes later, a doctor came in, and I stepped out to let them talk. When he left, a few minutes later, I went back in.

"Still alive?" I laughed.

"Yes. You'll have to put up with me a little longer," she giggled, and handed me a prescription. "Could you get this filled for me, honey? There's a pharmacy on the main level, and I'm waiting for a nurse to give me a shot. My shoulder is killing me. It hurt less when I was shot. When you get back, I can probably go home."

"Can do," I smiled, and kissed her carefully. "Don't go anywhere."

I scooted out the door, into the hallway. Scott was still there, as were a couple of uniforms, posted at another door.

"Told you she was fine," Scott smiled, as I approached. "The bastard is in there," he pointed to the uniforms guarding the door. "She fucked him up pretty good. Serves him right."

I paused. Part of me wanted to see the man who hurt my baby. Another part thought it would be best left alone, and that's the part that won today. I'd hear the details later, from Emily. Until then, I had pills to get.

Despite the lineup in the pharmacy, I was taken to a side counter, and the script was filled immediately. Seems word had made the rounds that a hero cop... a female hero cop... had taken down a serial rapist. The pharmacist smiled as he passed the bottle to me.

"You tell her we're proud to help," he nodded.

Within minutes, I was back at her door. I stuck my head in.

"Pssst! Wanna buy some drugs?" I smiled, shaking the bottle like a rattle.

"Mmmmm, if they're like the shot I just received, then yes. Definitely," she smiled back, a woozy expression on her face. "I feel great. I wanna fuck. Come on. Do me right here."

"I think that's the morphine talking," I laughed, picking up the sweatpants off the chair. "Let's get you dressed, and take you home."

"Then you'll fuck me?" she slurred. "I really want you to fuck me."

"Well, we'll see," I smiled. She bared her legs, and I saw the bruises, and scratches. One thigh had a couple of deep gouges, covered by a bandage. I also saw her pussy, thankfully undamaged. I slipped the pants up her legs, and helped her to her feet, then tied the waist snug.

"You're doing it wrong," she giggled. "If you're gonna fuck me, you're supposed to take things off. Like this!"

With surprising dexterity, she whipped the hospital gown off over her head with one hand, leaving it hanging from her damaged left shoulder. Her upper body was equally scraped, and a bruise across her neck showed where he choked her. Her breasts looked red, and sore.

"Oh, honey," I winced, pulling the gown off, and the sweatshirt on. "I think you need to rest for a while."

"You don't want to fuck me?" she whimpered. "I really need you to fuck me. I need you to... to want me." Her tears flowed.

I held her gently, and let her let it out. She cried for several minutes, while I soothed her and whispered reassurances in her ear. I knew this would happen eventually, but I didn't think her armour would break while we were still in the hospital. I suppose the drugs might have played a part. Her strong, brave exterior was covering a frightened woman, and it was the woman I loved.

As her emotions eased, she recovered, and pulled back with a sniff.

"Sorry, I got you all wet," she giggled.

"I needed a shower, anyway," I replied, rubbing her back. "Let me get a chair, and let's get you home, okay?"

"I'd rather walk," she smiled, standing up.

"If you're sure?" I asked.

"I am," she said softly, "but I will take your arm."

So, we walked out. Slowly, but defiantly. Scott and the two uniforms both gave Emily a round of applause.

"Thank you, thank you," she smiled. "No autographs, please."

I was so proud of her.

***

We had a couple of quiet, restful days at home. Emily slept, a lot, and I watched her. I fed her. I bathed her. I took care of her.

And I waited. She told me she would tell me what happened, when she was ready to do so. I knew she would, but my patience was running out. I tried not to let it show, or to let it effect us.

We were in the den, watching TV again. She was laying on her side, with her head in my lap, while I stroked her hair. She sighed, and rolled on her back, looking up at me. Several seconds of silence were broken at last, by the words I had been waiting for.

"Thanks for being patient, honey," she said softly. "Are you ready to hear about it?"

I managed not to scream 'yes! For God's sake!', instead keeping my reaction to a respectful nod.

"Okay. Help me up, please?" she asked, offering her right hand. Her left shoulder was out of the sling, having been only partially dislocated. I took her hand, and together we got her sitting upright. I waited, and finally she began.

"Hmmm. Where to begin?" she smiled. "Well, as you may know, we had him under surveillance for quite some time, figuring out his movements and schedule. That's how we knew where to put me. Anyway, as well as tracking him, we needed to give him a schedule to figure out, so he would know where I would be. It took some time to establish that I ate my lunches in that park on sunny days, and walked through it on my way home. Because we were watching him, we knew he was watching me, and I had a pretty constant narrative running in my ear, telling me how close, and where he was, relative to me. There was only one blind spot, and he found it."

"Wonderful," I snarled. She touched her fingertip to my lips, silencing any further comments from me.

"He's a criminal, and a scumbag, but he's not an idiot. If he was, we'd have caught him already. So, I'm walking along the path, and I hear 'Unit 3 is blocked', which means my extra eyes, watching from a high-rise building with binoculars, have lost me behind some trees. Thud! I get hit from behind, and grabbed around the neck. He dragged me through a gap in the bushes, I guess, because by the time my head cleared, I was laying on my back in the grass. My left arm was bent behind my back, and trapped under me. That's how my shoulder got hurt, I guess."

I tried not to picture my darling in such a vulnerable position, at the mercy of a sex crazed lunatic. However, since she was here, and telling me the story, I suppose she might not be quite as vulnerable as it appeared.

"I probably should have just used the safe-word, right then. If we caught him like this, we'd have our sample to compare to the other victims, and his family wouldn't be able to do squat. But, I wanted to nail his ass, beyond any doubt. So I, said nothing. I could hear the other officers, checking with each other, and alerting everyone to my last known location. They were moving in already, safe-word or not. It all happened pretty fast after that."

I leaned forward, my attention riveted. Scott said she fucked this guy up pretty good. I wanted to hear about it.

"He was on his knees, between my legs, and he ripped my blouse open. I almost wanted to tell him to smile, because the camera in the bra now had him dead to rights. He groped me with his left hand, then went to choke me, while his right hand ripped my panties off. He was unzipping his pants when I'd had enough. I saw my opening, and went for it."

I had winced when she mentioned being groped, and having her underwear yanked off. She touched my hand.

"It's okay, baby. I'm fine," she comforted me. "I bridged up, lifting my hips, and grabbed his left hand, pulling him off balance. Because his right hand was low, undoing his pants, my left leg went up on his shoulder, and I locked my right knee over my left ankle."

I had seen this before. It was an MMA staple, called a triangle choke. It was even better if you could get the arm out, but still quite effective with the arm trapped. Of course, in an MMA fight, the choke-ee would tap out, before passing out. Emily had no intention of releasing this one until he was out cold.

"I pulled it tight, and even got my right ankle under his body, so his own weight just made it tighter. I felt his collarbone snap. His right hand was scratching and clawing at anything he could reach, hence the marks on my legs. I remembered the safe-word, and growled 'pumpernickel, mutherfucker', about the time he went limp. I held it for another few seconds, then kicked him off, and stood up. I was able to get my boobs back in my bra, with one hand, before my backup arrived. Since his pants were around his knees, I gave his dick a parting stomp, just as they came through the bushes."

I winced again, this time in sympathy, albeit not much sympathy. I was just happy it wasn't my penis she was stepping on with malice. The rapist deserved it.

"Anyway, that's about it. My arm hurt like hell, but now that I wasn't laying on it, it eased a bit. The boys gave me a clean jacket, so evidence on me wouldn't be contaminated, and called me an ambulance. I asked Scott to pick you up, and he brought you to the hospital. End of report."

That was just fine with me. It was over, and now I knew what had happened, so all we needed to do from here is figure out how to get back to normal.

During the days of silence, I had done a lot of thinking, putting myself in her place. While I knew that she was much stronger mentally and emotionally than I was... it came with the job... there was one inescapable fact. She had been sexually assaulted. Maybe it wasn't a surprise, and she had known it would happen for weeks, but still it had happened. A traumatic experience like that can't just be swept aside. If it was me, I would have trouble separating the pleasurable side of sex from the memory of the assault.

So, how could we get past it?

***

I had a feeling this was one of those times when communication would be even more important than usual. Silence can so easily be misinterpreted by a mind that is in a state of emotional turmoil. We needed to talk it out, every step of the way.

"Darling?" I said softly, as we held each other in the dark comfort of our bed.

"Mmmmm hmmm?" she replied, snuggling against my chest.

"Can we talk about how to proceed from here?" I asked. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding."

"Go ahead," she breathed. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"I just want you to know that I love you, and nothing has changed that, but I feel like I need to walk on eggshells right now. If I step back, and give you space, you might think I don't want you, which is not true. If I act normally... Well, he kind of muddied the waters, there. I'm afraid to touch you the wrong way. I don't know if I should just let you tell me when you're ready to be physical again, or just show you that I feel the same way I always have. What do you want me to do?"

Emily was silent, but I felt her tremble, and the warmth of a tear on my chest. I waited for her to compose herself.

"Davis, honey... I don't know what to say," she sniffed, and rolled to face me. I could see the trails of her tears. "Thank you for making the effort to understand. That's why I love you, because you do things like that. I wish I could give you an answer, but I really don't know right now. Part of me wants space, to heal, and part of me wants to feel you inside me again. I didn't think this assignment would fuck us up like this. I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't worry, honey," I smiled, pecking her on the nose. "We'll get through this. We still have a wedding to attend."

I looked into her eyes, and marveled that this beautiful, caring woman had chosen me to spend her life with. Her eyes closed, and she pressed forward touching her lips to mine gently. It wasn't the first kiss since the incident, but while those were meant to support, this one was different. She pulled back, eyes open again, then sighed, and came back with an emotional tidal wave, crushing our mouths together. Our lips parted, tongues tangling in a re-assertion of our love.

Desperation overpowered all else, washing away the uncertainties we both felt. It had been several days since we had made love, and neither of us were willing to wait a minute longer. Emily yanked at the t-shirt she was wearing, dragging it off over her head with difficulty, but off it came. We embraced again, moaning our desires, and I felt her hand searching out my cock, which was straining against the fabric of my underwear. She pulled it clear, and rolled on her back, guiding it to her entrance.

"Please," she hissed, and I pushed inside her, as our mouths met again. She groaned, and clawed at my ass, urging me deeper with each thrust, until our hips met, and my cock ground against her clit. "Oh, god, yes! I need this!" she whispered, wrapping her legs tight around me. "Do it, baby."

I suppose the general thread of our previous conversation might be viewed as 'when the time is right, we'll know it'. Well, it was screaming NOW! at the top of its lungs. If the assignment had tainted sex for us, now was the time to change that.

It was almost as though we were starting over, and the excitement and desire was palpable. I tried to remember to be gentle, due to her bruises and wounds, as well as her mental scars.

I gave her long, slow, deliberate strokes, which made her moan with delight. She held me close to her body, whispering sweet directives in my ear.

"Mmmmm, yes darling. I've missed this. The closeness, and intimacy. Thank you for giving me space. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for loving me. I can't tell you how much having you here for me has meant. I was afraid that this particular assignment would damage our relationship, but you showed me it didn't have to. I love you so much."