Killer Dreams Ch. 11-15

"Are you staying for breakfast?"

"Hell, yeah. You're a better cook than I am." He stood up and walked over to the big window. "David, I'm here as long as I need to be," Larry told me. "You scared the shit out of me yesterday. When did you start drinking again?"

"Last year. It wasn't a problem until yesterday."

"Well, yesterday was a mess. You need help, David. Someone has to keep you from destroying yourself. I'm afraid one day you'll have one of your dreams, you won't ask for help, and I'll get a call from the Sheriff."

I took a drink of water as I thought about how to ease his fears. "Yesterday's breakdown was due to shock and grief, Larry. It was a one-off."

He turned and put an arm on my shoulder. "I'd like to believe you, David. After all the shit we've been through together, you'll have to convince me you are doing better before I leave you alone again."

He was my last and best friend. He'd seen me at my worst and helped me escape my self-hatred and pity to become a functioning human again. I grabbed his wrist, squeezing it lightly. "I'll get breakfast ready. Can you let Rocky out?"

"We'll be back in time," he said. Rocky bounded out as soon as Larry opened the door, not even glancing at me before running towards the lake. "And don't steal my dog!"

"Not my fault he likes me better," Larry said with a laugh.

After breakfast, I took advantage of Larry's fancy new car to get some business done. Hiding in the back didn't work with the press staked out by Highway 61. Larry's face was known to them now. They ran up with cameras running, shouting questions as Larry kept the car moving. I didn't say anything, and Larry's car was fast enough to leave them behind.

We stopped first at my lawyer's office in Two Harbors. Larry waited while Mr. Costley ushered me into his downtown office overlooking the harbor. "Was that search warrant legal, Gerald?"

"The short answer is that it was authorized and executed on the right property," he said. "I believe they exceeded the authorized scope of the warrant in what they seized. I also have a motion ready to unseal the affidavit used to obtain the warrant, but those rarely succeed. Law enforcement has a lot of discretion when it comes to 'open investigations.' Since the basis for the warrant could expose sources and methods, we won't see it until the indictment."

"That doesn't seem fair. The BCA took my computer, Gerald. That's my livelihood! The draft of my next novel is on there!"

"They don't care. The time to fight the warrant is in pretrial motions. Until then, they have your stuff. There are no time requirements for them to give it back, and we may have to file to get it. Do you have a backup of your drive on the cloud?"

I couldn't believe this. "No. I backed up my hard drive once a week, keeping the removable drive locked in the gun safe in my closet. The BCA brought in a locksmith, and he got it open for them."

"You didn't grant consent for the search?"

"Hell no. I know better." Giving consent to a search meant you couldn't challenge it later. We always asked, and you'd be amazed how many people would allow it even when we didn't have enough probable cause for a warrant. "The files are encrypted, and the drive is password protected."

"How strong is your protection?"

"Pretty good. I've been working on this draft for nine months, Gerald. The publishing house gave me a two-million-dollar advance, and I could double that with sales. My editor wanted to make sure it didn't get hacked."

"That's a start," he said. "Good encryption will slow them down. Their warrant was for any electronic communications, David. Since the drive and files are password protected, that gives Fourth Amendment protections. I can get the judge to exclude any items except e-mails, private messages, and social media posts in pretrial motions."

"Just e-mail, Gerald, and not much of that. I don't use social media, and I use the burners for text messages."

He thought about it. "Taking a backup drive out of a safe is a stretch," he said as he took notes. "You are not required to give them the passwords to your files. Call me if they try that crap with you." I nodded. "Since the computer is your livelihood, I will argue they should give you a clone of the hard drive or the return of the backup. In the best case, this may take months, David. You should buy a new computer and get new phones they don't have warrants to tap. This time, get a cloud backup."

Wonderful. "Any other good news?"

"You see how much press they are getting. From what I'm hearing, you are the prime suspect, upset that your ex-wife is moving on with someone more successful than you." I rolled my eyes at this. If I wanted Tracy back, I had plenty of time to get her. "If they decide to arrest you, the cops will make it a spectacle. Keep calm, cooperate, and give me a call when you can."

We then headed for the Best Buy electronics store in Duluth. I grabbed a dozen prepaid burner phones and put them in my cart. I was sure the St. Paul Police didn't find anything in their searches, but I wasn't going to make it easy for them to keep me under surveillance. If I had to, I'd head out on my sea kayak and only turn a phone on when I was away from home.

The next stop was the computer section. I bought a top-of-the-line business tower, pairing it with a 47" curved-front monitor. I found a matching 24" monitor I could use to keep plot notes and research displayed.

Larry and I were walking past the television section when he froze. "What the FUCK?"

I looked where he did, my jaw dropping. "SECRET LIFE OF MURDERED PROSECUTOR," the crawl said. On the left half of the screen was a news host, while the right side displayed a picture of Tracy. It wasn't the Tracy I remembered, though. She wore a black lace bodysuit, the cut emphasizing her generous bust and narrow waist. There was a black circle over her crotch, hiding what wasn't there or was too sheer to show on television. Above the lace, she wore a leather collar with SLUT in block lettering, a black leash hanging from the D-ring on the front, and a red ball gag with a leather strap holding it in place. Black fishnet stockings and black high heels completed her daring outfit.

The man in the leather pants and open-top dress shirt next to her, holding the leash, was none other than Lars Anderson. Lars was smiling, and the flap-front of his pants didn't hide his arousal. A leather flogger hung from the left side of his belt. They were standing in front of a plain brick wall, and the two weren't looking at the camera. They may not have known it was there.

It wasn't the kind of photo that you put up on Facebook. It would hurt her career badly if it had come out while she was alive. Hell, someone could have blackmailed her with it. And that FUCKING hockey player was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

I walked to the nearest screen in a daze. I found the volume buttons on the side of the big-screen television and turned it up. "...revelations have sent a shock wave through the city, given the sexual nature of the crime. Sources close to the investigation revealed that police found Tracy Hardin's body bound spread-eagle to her bed, a ball gag preventing her from raising the alarm with her neighbors. The photograph received anonymously by KARE-11 Television raises questions about the potential motive for the crimes and any involvement of her fiancé in the circumstances leading to her death. The revelations cast even more doubt on the actions of an investigation focused on her ex-husband, New York Times bestselling novelist and ex-husband David Hardin." The photograph shifted to a photo from my press conference. "We asked the St. Paul Police for comment and have not received a response. Karen D'Angelo, KARE-11 news."

"Fuck me sideways," I whispered.

Customers started coming my way, and one had his phone out and recording. "We should get out of here," Larry said.

"Yeah." I paid for my stuff and went back home.

Chapter 14

Talia Devine's POV

Vista Ridge Apartments, Woodbury, Minnesota

Thursday, September 23, 2021

I was freezing my tits off.

No matter how fast I swam, I couldn't catch him, and I couldn't warm up. The clear waters and gentle surf made it a challenge to keep swimming straight; if I looked up to see him ahead of me, I'd break the stroke and fall even further behind.

This swim wasn't a sprint. 'Ten minutes of swimming, five hundred yards, just to get your blood going again,' David had promised. I'd listened like the idiot I am. Why did I accept a challenge from a man like him on his home turf? In the chilly lake that he swims every day?

'It's the price you pay to stay close to that dick,' my subconscious answered.

Last night was incredible. After eight months, two weeks, and four days without sex (not that I'm counting), we were up until after midnight, spectacularly breaking that drought. My God, the things that man did to my body! My previous sexual experiences made me feel like a violin stuck in an elementary school orchestra. I got played regularly, but no one knew what they were doing. Half the time, the student didn't finish the song before putting me away, leaving me wondering what people saw in it. Last night was like having a famous violinist snatch me up and play me in ways I didn't know were possible.

By the fifth time I came over that fat cock, I knew I'd never give this up.

And when I woke this morning, I felt like I'd been in a car accident. I was in great shape, running, lifting weights, and working on the mats. The workout he gave me made things sore that I didn't know I had. When I started limping, he smiled and told me I should join his morning routine.

Now my arms and quads are burning as I knife through the chilly water. I focus on breathing and making long strokes, my eyes watching the rocks speed by below me.

I feel a cold hand grab my wrist and come to a stop. David's strong right arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me to him, treading water for us both. He kisses me deeply, then lets me go. 'We should get out of here," he tells me.

We aren't far offshore, and he takes my hand to lead us over the slippery slabs of rock leading up to his home. Rocky is sitting on a boulder, watching us as David wraps me in a towel. My teeth are chattering by the time we reach the sliding door.

'Don't go in the hot tub yet,' he told me. He dropped his wet trunks, wringing them out before hanging them over a bar to dry. I quickly doffed my one-piece suit and did the same. He led me to the lap pool, starting it up as he passed the controls. He was right; after the cold of Lake Superior, this pool was plenty warm. 'Swim next to me, Talia. We'll take it nice and easy, twenty-minute swim.'

The gentle current and the slow crawl helped me warm up and stretch my body again. I was on David's left side, so every time I took a breath, I got a good look at his muscled back and shoulders. I could see the scratches I'd left on his back last night, and my sex clenched thinking about it.

I was tired when the timer stopped. As the current went away, I stood in the neck-deep water. David took my hand, leading me up the stairs and over to the hot tub. He pushed some buttons to slide back the cover and start the jets. 'He is sculpted like a God, marred only by those battle scars on his hip,' I thought as David stepped down. When he was standing in the center, he held my hand while I entered.

Plenty of men in my past had looked at my body the way David was now, eyes full of lust and promise. No one else deserved it.

He led me to a seat, and I closed my eyes and moaned in pleasure as the jets started working my back and shoulders. When I opened them again, David was next to me, submerged in the roiling water to his neck. I moved a leg over to where his leg should be and found nothing. "It's a standing massage," he told me. He stayed there for another few minutes, then stepped back up. I leaned my head back, enjoying his reaction as he watched my breasts just under the surface. He placed his arms on both sides of my head, leaning down until our lips met.

I moaned as his tongue moved across my lips, demanding an entrance I quickly granted. We kept kissing as his hands moved down my body, now flushed and sensitive. He cupped my tits, and I reached down with one hand and encircled his rapidly hardening member. My ankles linked behind his thighs, urging him closer, needing him inside me.

His thumbs and index fingers pinched my swollen nipples. I screamed out my pleasure as the orgasm hit me from out of nowhere.

He took advantage, his hands cupping my ass and lifting me to him. My hands went to his shoulders, holding on as my legs wrapped him like a snake. His cock was hard and needy against my hips, too high to find the entrance with his spongy tip. Lifting me higher, he latched onto my left nipple while I moved my hips to the sweet spot.

'Please,' I begged him. He slowly lowered my body, splitting me apart as I clung to him. David's cock was perfect; plenty long to hit all my spots, but not too long. He was thick, too, his shaft widening a bit from the outside of his spongy tip. It took a little time and lubrication to get all of him inside me while underwater, and it felt so damn good.

He didn't start thrusting right away. No, he moved us through the water, taking the stairs down until my back pressed against the tiled tub wall. Holy shit! No wonder he liked this. A dozen water jets, some moving up and down, started to work my shoulders and back.

Then David lifted me a few inches, then slowly let me back down.

I moaned in appreciation, and then he did it again, a little higher this time.

And again.

I lost track of time and space as he kept up the slow fucking. I could feel every ridge, every vein as he moved inside me. The heat of the water and the jets added to the sensations I was feeling. David used his fingers and lips to tease my nipples and clit as the slow tease continued. Finally, he started moving faster and faster. I came hard, screaming, my pussy squeezing his cock like a vise.

The scream woke me up.

I opened my eyes, breathing hard as I rode out my orgasm. I'd kicked the covers off my bed, my right hand was inside my panties, and my hand and wrist were wet. It wasn't urine; a quick sniff of my hand settled that. Still, my underwear was sopping wet, and there was a wet spot on the bed.

I'd never squirted before, yet that dream had done it for me. What the fuck? This case was messing with my head. Why was I having erotic fantasies about a suspect in a violent murder?

'Because he's a damn fine man, and you need one of those,' my mind answered.

It was only a dream, but DAMN! It felt so real!

I wiped my hand off and reached for my phone; it was five-twenty-two. Another eight minutes and my alarm would sound. I scooted the cat off the bed and stripped the sheets before the mattress could get stained. Tossing it all in a hamper, I headed for the shower.

I'd finished dressing when my phone dinged. Mom wanted me to call when I was up, so I put her on speakerphone. "Hey, Mom," I said as I poured a glass of grape juice.

"Hi, baby. I saw the news yesterday. Can you believe that little tramp was into that bondage stuff?"

And how. The photo caught us flat-footed. Hank Johnson looked white as a sheet as he watched. He was the Detective who interviewed Lars Anderson and had no idea they were into that kind of kink. The Assistant Chief was tearing him a new asshole until Maloney came to his defense. "Sir, we held back information and photographs for exactly this reason," he said. "We already excluded Lars as a suspect based on the timeline."

"I'll talk to him again," Hank said. "His secret is out now."

I went back to the phone call. "Mom, you know I can't talk about a case."

"Then I won't ask. What are you doing this weekend, Talia? Has anyone asked you out?"

"Mom! I'm kind of busy working a homicide!"

"You're not getting any younger, Talia. How do you expect to find a nice guy working Robbery/Homicide? When was the last time someone asked you to go on a date?"

"Monday morning. He was a Deputy Sheriff from the Brainerd Lakes area."

"Was he a nice man? You could do worse. It's probably safer up there than in St. Paul."

God! The way she acted about my dating life, you'd think I was an ugly spinster with no prospects left after I hit thirty next spring. She wanted grandchildren, and I think she was mad I didn't get a kid out of my marriage. "Mom, he was a horndog looking to bang me in his hotel room before returning to his wife. I didn't even have a chance to say no because I got called for the case. Besides, I'm not ready for a relationship yet."

"Talia, you're too young to end up as a crazy cat lady. Put on a nice dress and heels and go dancing. What's the worst thing that can happen?"

"Um, he slips me a roofie and I wake up in a sleazy hotel room with an asshole the size of my fist?"

"TALIA!"

"Mom, you shouldn't ask questions like that of a cop. We've seen things you don't want to hear about." I finished my granola bar and juice as she threatened to set me up for a blind date with her neighbor's third son. "Mom, I've got to go to work. I'll call you this weekend."

"Think about it, baby. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." I hung up and let out a frustrated growl.

The day didn't get any better as it went on.

Chapter 15

David Hardin's POV

Highway 61 near Two Harbors

Wednesday, September 23, 2021

The press was all over the picture of Lars and Tracy in bondage gear. It was all they talked about on television and was the lead story on the radio. Could her death be linked to their hidden lifestyle? Was Lars involved somehow, even if he was out of town with a rock-solid alibi? Sex sells. Sex, murder, and celebrity at the same time? Explosive.

I called my lawyer on the way home from the stores in Duluth. Gerald Costley knew of the recent developments and only had one question for me. "Was your relationship like that?"

"Not really. We played around a bit with bondage because Tracy liked it."

"What kind of bondage play?"

"Pretty tame stuff," I said. "Tracy liked it when she pretended she was a naughty schoolgirl, and I'd be the principal taking her over my knee and spanking her for the infraction. Sometimes I'd play cop at a traffic stop, handcuffing her while she 'talked to the judge.'"

"The judge?"

"She'd meet me somewhere on my way home from work. We pretended I was the one to pull her over in some remote place no one could see us. I'd find a joint in the car, handcuff her, and lead her back to my car. She'd be crying and begging me to let her go. 'My Dad will kill me, and I'll lose my scholarship. I'll do ANYTHING if you'll let me go.' I'd get a smirk on my face. 'Anything?' She nodded, her eyes glancing down as I unzipped my fly. Tracy would drop to her knees and start blowing me in the street. Sometimes I'd bend her over the truck or in the backseat and fuck her until she screamed. She'd go off like a rocket in those play sessions. Nothing beyond role-playing and spanking, though. It was some of the best sex we ever had."

"Did she ever show any masochistic tendencies?"

"Other than law school?" That got Gerald laughing. "No, but it's been a long time since we were together."

"And that's your answer when they ask about this, David. They will want to talk to you, especially now that the investigation is heading in a different direction. You know the deal, right?"

"Don't say anything without a lawyer."