Red Ribbons in Her Hair Ch. 13-14

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Sheri struggled and fought, kicking her feet and bashing her head against David's back. It was as if she didn't exist, except for the hold he kept around her legs, holding her to his shoulder. He ignored her movements completely, even when she knew she must have done something to him that hurt.

She caught glimpses of the house as they moved through it, a normal, nice home with normal furnishings, a television set, a rocker/recliner set in front of it. There was even a nice, normal cat sitting upon the table, washing his paws. The cat looked at her for a moment, then went back to its bath as if its owner dragged bloody women into his house on a daily basis.

He kept walking, through a kitchen that had plain white linoleum, dull cabinets and a cookie jar of a cat on the counter. He paused an she heard the sound of a lock turn and then a light clicked on and suddenly he was going through a door and down a flight of stairs.

He dumped her unceremoniously into a hard wooden chair with a high back, pushing her easily back down when she tried to jump up. His hands went to her hair, yanking out the pins so that her long, bright red tresses shone in the bright light of the room, falling around her shoulders and into her face.

"Red," he said, disgust evident in his tone. "They couldn't even give me a decent decoy."

Sheri shook her head, trying to get the hair out of her eyes. With her hands bound behind her, it was almost an impossible task. "Sorry to disappoint you," she hissed, her voice hoarse with pain and fear, though she put up a brave front.

"Shut up," he said quietly, staring at her.

Her eyes narrowed and she wanted to scream at him but she kept quiet, squirming under the intensity of his stare.

"You're pretty I suppose. Tina might like you." He reached behind him and onto a shelf. Before she knew what he was about, he had her pinned to the chair, a pair of scissors snipping in front of her face. "Unless you want me to use these to snip you open and see what color your insides are, you might want to hold still."

The scissors were huge and silver, dressmaker shears, she thought, knowing that they could, indeed, cut her open. She nodded her head, seeing him staring at her with those odd blue eyes.

They were cold against her skin as he snipped through her clothing, starting at her pants. He used the shears to start the cuts, yanking at the fabric with his incredibly strong hands. When he was finished, she sat before him in nothing but a red silk bra and matching panties.

Sheri longed for the use of her hands, not to cover herself up but to fight this maniac. She was helpless, a feeling that never sat well with the feisty detective. "Got your thrills yet, David?" she asked him, angry.

He sighed. "I don't need another girl, especially one with red hair." He said the color as if it were the foulest thing in the world. "You were supposed to be Kaylee. She was going to be mine forever, but you took her place." He tilted his head to the side, studying her. "Why did you do that?"

"Because someone needs to take scumbags like you off the streets, and protect innocent lives like those girls you murdered. Is there any better reason? You know, David," she said, her voice growing softer, more intimate. "If you were to give yourself up to me, I'm sure we could make a deal, take the death penalty off the books and make sure you got life in some cushy institution somewhere."

"Give myself up? Darlin', there ain't nothing further from my mind," he said, the Texas accent coming out heavily. He reached out suddenly, turning the chair to where she could see Tina and Michelle, their arms wrapped around their naked bodies, watching every move David made with a look of horror upon their faces. "See, my two babies over there, they're sore. I've over used them the past couple of days and I was hoping for someone new to play with for a while."

Sheri took in the bruises and contusions, the terror in Michelle's eyes and the determination in Tina's. "And you thought I'd be willing to what, ride you like a bucking bronco?" she asked him.

He threw back his head, laughing at her use of the western vernacular. "Nice try, but the only one that will ride me will be Kaylee."

"You'll never get your hands on her, David. Gabe will see to that. He wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"Ah yes, Gabe Hampton. Isn't he the wonderful cop in charge of you tonight? Hmm, I think he might have fucked up a little bit," David said, tapping his finger against his lips. "I mean, if he hadn't fucked up, I wouldn't have YOU!" he shouted, spraying her face with spittle as he loomed over her.

Sheri cowered back in the chair, trying to keep up her mien of the tough detective, but inside she was quaking with fear. She was helpless, almost nude, and in the hands of a man who was known to have killed six women. She tried to force her numb and aching head into thinking but the only thing that came through the haze of fear was the voice of her Behavioral Psych teacher. "Don't rile the deviant." he used to always say.

"Yeah, you're right. Gabe did fuck up tonight," she said, trying to add disgust into her words.

David only nodded his head, reaching down and palming her breast in his hand.

Sheri tried to jerk away but the chair was at her back. She was trapped by his body with no where to go. "Don't," she said before she could stop herself.

David laughed, a chilling sound that sent goose flesh over her cold skin. "Ah, begging already, and I haven't even gotten started. You might be more fun than I thought, Detective." He peeled the cup down slowly, exposing the plump mound, his fingers twiddling over her nipple. "Very nice, I'd have expected you to be covered in freckles. Most redheads usually are."

"Sorry to not disappoint you," she hissed, hating the way his warm fingers felt against her skin.

"Good, I'd hate to have you give in so quickly. It's such a disappointment to me when they don't fight or squirm when I sink my cock into them." He pulled out the front of her bra, quickly sliding the shears into the gap and snipping it open. He pushed the two halves off of her breasts, exposing them to his eyes, the ruined material falling over her hands and catching on the zip tie that bound her wrists.

"What do you think, Tina? Would you do her?" He backed away from the chair, letting the girl get a good look at his latest prize. "She's got spunk like you, not like little Michelle in there." He bent over Sheri as if telling her a secret. "Tina's gay, I killed her lesbian lover when I took her from their bed. She's a good little fuck though, so maybe she's bi-sexual instead. You know, I just can't keep up with it anymore, bi-sexual, gay, hetero, it's a big mess out there."

"Yeah and you probably only like vanilla ice cream, too," Sheri said, not hiding the disgust she felt for the man from her voice.

"Ah, oh good one, nice come back, Detective. You'd better hope I like redheads or your time in this world will be ending very God damn soon." He knelt in front of her, pushing her thighs apart with his hands. His fingers went to the crotch of her panties, rubbing against them, pushing them into the slit between her thighs. His lips went to her breast, sucking in one of her full pink nipples, chewing on the soft flesh and hearing her cries of pain. "Beg me to stop," he ordered her, biting down on her nipple.

Sheri tried to stay quiet but the pain was intense, welling through her in big strong waves, too harsh to ignore. "Stop!" she screamed, "please, stop!"

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Gabe left the alley, his stride determined. Someone had to see something and he was going to knock on every door around until he found something. He grabbed a couple of uniforms that were just milling around, taking them with him into the apartment building next to the alley.

"Okay, you guys are going to take every other floor." He handed them copies of the artist's sketch. "I want you pounding on doors and taking statements. Talk to everyone in the apartments no matter how old. If they can talk, they can be a witness, understand?" He pointed towards the stairs, watching them hurry away and then went to the first floor apartment.

He pounded on the door. "Police, open up, I need to speak with you."

As soon as it was opened, he shoved his copy of the artist's rendering into the face of the older man who stood there. "Did you see this man tonight?"

He shook his head, starting to close his door but Gabe shoved his foot in. "Do you have anyone else living here with you?"

"Yeah, my wife and she ain't seen nothing either. We've been watching Jeopardy until you people showed up with your sirens and lights going, interrupting people from enjoying their evenings." He started to close the door again but Gabe reached out and hauled him up by his shirt.

"Listen, a young woman was kidnapped tonight. The car that was used is parked outside your building, almost right outside your apartment windows. Now, you're telling me you've been here all night and you haven't seen nothing?"

"He didn't, but I did."

The voice was tiny, thin, coming from behind the big man in the doorway. Gabe glanced down, seeing the owner of the voice matched its sound. A tiny bird-like woman who was at least sixty looked up at him with eyes the blue of corn flowers.

Gabe let go of her husband, seeing the man run his hand over his chest before stepping back so the woman could come forward.

"Alice, you don't have to do this," he said, holding his hand out to the fragile lady.

"Yes, I do, Harold. Now let the nice detective in so we can talk like civilized people." She led the way down a long hallway and into a nice apartment that was startling compared to the harsh exterior of the building. The room was warm, with hand crocheted doilies decorating every table top and silk flowers in wicker baskets displayed everywhere.

"Detective...?" Alice asked, holding out her hand and offering him a seat upon a comfortable looking sofa.

"Gabriel Hampton, ma'am," he said, sitting down and pulling out his notebook. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

"I was doing the dinner dishes, Harold was setting up the cards, we like to play after dinner and I heard a noise from out in the alley. Normally, we keep the blinds closed; it's not a nice neighborhood after dark anymore. But it's such a beautiful night, I opened the window a bit for some air."

Gabe nodded. His pen poised over the paper, he waited.

"I'm sorry, Detective, I'll get to it. A man, he was like the man in your picture but his hair wasn't so wild nor was he so dark skinned. He had something in his arms that he dumped into the trunk of another car. Then he got in the first one and was doing something. I think he was wiping off finger prints, like they do in those crime shows on television." She took her husband's hand into her own, twining their fingers together. It looked strange to Gabe, Harold's big sausage like fingers to the tiny little ones of his wife's.

"Did you see a make on the car?" he asked.

"No, I don't know much about cars. Harold does all the driving."

"What about a plate number? Can you remember any of it?"

"Uh, the letters, I think... A R S. I remember because I love roses and I thought, how lovely, A RoSe."

"Did you get a color of the car?" Gabe said, writing quickly. "Or maybe was it a two door or a four door?"

"Four and it was dark blue, kind of boring looking, actually."

Gabe was smiling. "Alice, I think I love you. If I send someone over here with some pictures of cars, do you think you can look through them?"

"Sure, detective," she said, smiling. "Will I get to come to court and testify too? Like they do on those crime shows?"

"Maybe. I've got to go. I'll be sending a uniformed officer with pictures of those cars." On a whim, he bent, pressing his lips to Alice's cheek. "You're my hero, lady," he whispered before hurrying from the apartment, already on his radio.

Alice blushed, a lovely shade of pink, her hand rising to her cheek. "He was a nice boy, wasn't he Harold?" she asked of her husband who just glowered and rubbed at his chest.