Rachel - Intersecting Lines free porn video

Authors Note: I love this character. I love how she came to life for me (though that story is going to get rewritten to make it better (Rachel - Crossing the Line)). What's different about this story is not only do I play the story through Rachel's eyes, but also through another character. Hope you enjoy... Thanks for reading and all the feedback given in the past. Sorry it's been so long since my last release... Rachel July 8th, 2:39 AM "Yeah..." I muttered into the phone while trying to sink my head back into the pillow. "Hey a, sorry John, calling so late..." I rolled over and stared at the bright red numbers on the clock. Damn I was just about out I thought. Didn't matter - not like I was sleeping all that well these days anyway. I rolled onto my back, "Yeah, what is it?" It felt like I had marbles in my mouth and I reached for a glass of water next to the bed. "Lieutenant Landon said I should call you and get you out here, you're backup tonight right?" Danny Marks was a beat cop following orders, so I couldn't get too pissed at him for calling so damn early. Landon, he was a prick and an entirely different story. Yeah, I was the backup for my homicide unit tonight. With the summer vacation schedule as it was our division was short detectives and if they were calling it meant it was an unusually busy night. That, and if Landon was pulling me out of bed, meant it was probably more than he could handle. The other six detectives on shift were no doubt busy with other cases so Landon' out, to escape doing anything or showing he didn't know shit, was to get me out of bed. I pulled a few details out of Danny before hanging up. What I got from him made it sound like your basic Vegas homicide - a young woman dead in her apartment, no suspects, nothing else much to report. What was today, Wednesday? July 8th, 3:12 AM "Detective Pastor, so nice of you to join us." I just smiled a weak smile and walked past Landon while pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. I didn't look back and figured he could take my silence as my "Go fuck yourself!" Just get down to business I thought, rather than give Landon any grief. He'd be leaving now anyway since I was here to do all the work. The coroners van was out front, so they were probably pissed we hadn't wrapped up our investigation yet. I wondered who was on the meat wagon tonight. There were no crowds of people hanging about waiting to see a dead body, probably because it was so damn early or maybe because no one knew shit or more likely no one cared. Whatever. "Hey John, you're gonna love this one," Officer Ken Tenner said walking away from the second floor apartment door he was standing watch over as I approached. "Why?" I called back at him as he headed down the stairs. "Take a look at our gal, Preacher,? he shouted back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. OK, if you insist. Why the fuck else was I here? I paused at the door, pulled a small notebook out and began writing. The door was in tact, so no forced entry. The lock was clean, no scratches, the handle would have to be dusted for prints. Means she either knew or invited her killer in, maybe. I looked up and down the hallway, nothing much to see. Newer building, security keypad on the entryway in to the building - your basic apartment complex. Get a few of the boys to knock on doors and see if anyone heard or saw anything. Probably a long shot but you never know. Carpet in the hall and in the entryway looked decent, no stains, we'd vacuum to see if we could pull anything up. I was already thinking and planning steps ahead of where I was with this crime scene. I pushed the door open slowly. I could see a partially naked woman's body on the floor near the sofa. She looked to be in an unusual position from where I was standing, so she probably died where she was lying. We'd get to that though. Someone had to have reported this, need to know how that all transpired. The kitchen was to the left. A few plates, a single wine glass, nothing out of the ordinary. I could smell either incense or scented candles in the air. "Neighbor noticed the door ajar and peered in. Saw the body and called it in. Dispatch time was 2:01." "You get a statement from them? They didn't enter?" I asked Landon without turning around. "Yeah got a statement and no they didn't enter. Marks and Tenner did the door-to-door thing. Nothing, no one saw or heard anything. They'll get it written up and to you after shift." "Anyone been in yet?" "Tenner, but only to check the body and to make sure there wasn't anyone else in the apartment. He said he didn't touch anything and came straight out." "Who's on the wagon downstairs?" I asked, silently hoping it was Peterson. He was quick with estimating the time of death and usually could figure it within 15 minutes. That always gave us a good point to work from early enough to get us on the right path. "Peterson. The print team will be over after they finish a robbery with shooting a few blocks from here. You need anything else before I head back to the station?" Good, Peterson was the coroner tonight. Means I wouldn't be rushed. Print boys would be here soon and Landon was ready to retreat back to his office or home. Fine with me, "Nope, think I got it covered." "I'm going to check on Clark's robbery thing on the way back to the station. Call me if you need anything." And before I could speak a word he was walking away. Asshole. There was no love lost between the two of us. He probably didn't think I respected him and that bothered him. My problem with him was he could do the damn job, but he cut corners and was just lazy. A recurring theme whenever I analyzed the Lieutenant and the job he tried to perform. OK, back to the task at hand. It'd be a waste of time to ponder this any more I thought tapping my pen against the pad I was holding. Couldn't do much with the crime scene until the print boys got here and took pictures, but I could snoop a bit. I slipped surgical booties on over my shoes and entered the dinning room through the kitchen. The small dinning table had papers spread out all over it, a calculator, check book, and a stack of six DVD's. "Life's Passion" was the title for all of them and it stared Kristal Cane. The woman on the cover was seductively clad and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was your basic porn flick. I considered picking up the DVD box, but decided to wait for the photo boys to tag the room. "Her passion is in her Stiff Rod!" it said near the bottom of the box. Nice and I smiled imagining some lame fuck film with shit for music and looping sex scenes that repeated for twenty minutes. The papers on the table were invoices mostly. They were from a few different adult video stores in the city, places we'd have to check out. I knew where most of them were located. Crap parts of town I wasn't looking forward to visiting. A small table just big enough to hold a phone /answering machine combo was next to the table. The message light was flashing. I pressed the play button and after a short whirling noise a metallic voice chimed "July 8th, 1:12 AM...", then a female voice "OK, you owe me so big time! Call me!" There were no other messages. I'd need to get the phone company records of incoming and outgoing calls for the past few days. I scanned the living room for the obvious - blood, weapons, signs of struggle. The only thing that looked out of place, besides the body, was the coffee table that was probably normally in front of the couch. It could have been moved or pushed during a struggle, anyone's guess. The woman looked like she was unconscious or dead before she hit the floor. One arm was resting on her hip and her legs though spread were at odd angles. She was wearing only a pair of sheer panties and nothing else. I couldn't see her face through her hair, but I was willing to bet it was the woman from the DVD's on the table, the hair looked the same. I walked the edge of the room and down the hall to the first door, which was partially open. I pushed it slowly open and shined a tiny flashlight in. Bathroom, it looked clean, though the hand towel was on the sink and not the towel bar. We'd have to run that for clues, though it was a long shot. Lots of those tonight would need to be cataloged. The last door had to be the bedroom and it was open and dark. I peered inside, the tiny flashlight casting odd shadows about the room. The room was also clean, though there was a pile of clothes in front of the bed - most likely what she had been wearing this evening. A purse was on the bed, it was on its side and something was blinking inside. Probably a cell phone with a message indicator. Another trail we'd have to explore. Next to the wall near the door was a bra. Was she in a hurry to get out of the bedroom to someone? She'd never have answered the door naked, unless she was expecting someone. July 8th, 4:28 AM I watched as the print boys did their thing and I threw in a couple requests for evidence I wanted them to bag up. Tenner's comment about looking at the deceased finally made sense. What I had assumed to be a woman on the floor of the apartment was actually a man. I had studied the body from a far and the curves, what I could see of one breast, panties, women's clothing in the bedroom, decor, everything said the deceased was a female. Interesting twist, but I wouldn't have approached the crime scene any different having known differently coming in. After all the pictures were complete I did get a better look at the body. It was obvious once you were close enough to the body and got a good look at the crotch area that the person on the floor had extra equipment not found on a woman. I watched as the coroner, Peterson, began his preliminary examination. He spoke into a mini tape recorder and would occasionally ask for photos of a specific area of the body. "Pete's, got anything yet?" I asked after a few minutes and as he seemed to be focusing on the neck area of the body. "Looks like the neck was broken. See here," he traced a bluish-red line that disappeared to the underside of the neck, at the base of the neck a small bulge, "twisted to the left see the vertebrae? Some hair along this area here missing, probably had a good grip when whoever did it." He moved along the body poking gently and feeling for whatever the hell coroners feel for. "Got a TOD?" "Best guess is about 1:00 AM. Bodies pretty stiff, discoloration here and about the lips, some fluid leakage. I'd guess between 1:00 AM and 1:15 AM. I'll let ya know by lunch the actual time of death." He paused and looked over his shoulder at Tim Dunkin holding the camera, "I'm going to roll her over slowly, get a few shots as I do of her face, chest, and lower torso. Ready?" Dunkin nodded and got on his knees to get a better angle for the pictures. Peterson began to roll the body over as the camera clicked away. I stepped back and watched. The body was fairly stiff, not a surprise. The face was flat where it had been lying on the floor and a small puddle of saliva was on the floor. No blood. Peterson took samples, Dunkin snapped pictures, and all I could do was gawk like a schoolboy. Interesting, Peterson referred to the deceased as 'her', even knowing the opposite was the case. It surprised me that once the body was rolled over just how beautiful he was, the face especially, even in this lifeless state. The breasts... "Implants, expensive job," Peterson said poking one of them and snapping me back to the task at hand. "No scaring, must have went in through the arm pits." I watched as he felt the armpit of the rigid body with his fingers, "Small scar, D cup, probably fifteen-grand worth here. This wasn't one of those hack jobs John." Fifteen-thousand dollars? I scribbled notes and tuned Peterson out for a few seconds. It's not like I didn't know anything about what our victim had gone through to create this illusion he was living, but there were subtleties that were going to be beyond my grasp. I'd need to get a better education on Tran gendered people if I was going to make head way without spinning my wheels. Why did he do this? Why become a she... "John?" and I looked back at Peterson, "There's been a lot of work done on this body. Lips, some facial reconstruction, and I'm guessing some work has been done on the hips." "Yeah, stool pushing..." Tenner mumbled from the doorway with a chuckle. Peterson shook his head as though he didn't appreciate Tenner's comment, "There's a small tattoo on the hip here, looks to be no more than a couple weeks old. I'm going to wrap this up unless you have any questions." "No, nothing. I'll catch your report later. Thanks Pete's," and I decided I'd go explore the bedroom as they got the body bagged and removed. This evening could have been played out a number of ways for Kristal Cane and right at this moment nothing was obvious except that this case was going to push the boundaries of my comfort zones. He, she, fuck this is too strange - didn't deserve this. July 8th, 7:10 AM Done! I closed the apartment door and repositioned the 'Police - Crime Scene' tape over the door. The print boys had left about twenty minutes earlier. In tow they had twelve grocery bags full of evidence. This puzzle was going to be a pain in the ass to figure out. There were plenty of places to start and that was really the problem, where to begin. I talked with the manager about the victim before leaving the building. He knew little about her other than she entertained occasionally, men that is. He explained he thought she dated a lot. She was a model tenant, quiet, paid the rent on time, and was easy on the eyes. He thought she was from Brazil or some place in South America, she had an accent. I didn't bother telling him that she wasn't all that he thought. I got the sense that he didn't know and considered asking, but decided I'd save that for any follow-ups I needed to make should I return. I gave him my card and told him to call me if anyone asked about the victim, Kristal. If I was going to do anything with this case I needed to make it personal, and that always started with using the victim's name. It was superstitious of me, but I believed I could better work cases by connecting with the victim and getting others to take a personal interest always seemed easier by using their name. It all started by making them human, even though they were now in a better place I hoped. I told the manager that I was especially interested in knowing if anyone came around looking for her. I warned him to just observe and not to play detective, emphasizing that this was going to progress as a murder case. He understood and seemed more stressed about having someone die on his watch than anything else. I assured him we would have the next of kin or state take possession of the apartment contents within two weeks and after that he would have full legal access to the apartment. I gave him the standard forms and contact numbers for the department and city services should he have questions or need assistance. Then I told him he'd probably want to contact his insurance agent, as there would be some cleaning that needed to be done. He asked if there was much blood on the carpet and I could see he was uneasy about even asking. "No, no blood. But you might consider redoing the carpet." I told him as gently as I could. As I left the building I had two separate conversations with neighbors, I took their names and numbers. They said little more than what I had already heard from the apartment manger. They both got my card and said they would call if they thought of anything else. One of the women had said twice she pressed the manager to install security cameras in the building, but to no avail. I must be tired I thought, heading toward my car, I hadn't thought to ask if there were cameras on the premises. At my car I took one last look around, funny no news jockeys? That wasn't right. I got in the car and headed toward the station. I had three other cases screaming for attention, a court appearance at 3:00 PM, and I needed to get Sharon to take the kids again this weekend. That last task was sure to keep the fireworks popping, even though it was the 8th of July. July 8th, 11:45 AM "I'll be there for his game. What time is it again?" She told me again that it was at 4:00 PM on Saturday. I could make that; I just couldn't take the kids for the weekend, even though it was my week to have them. "Sharon, I'll be there, I promise. I'll even take everyone out for dinner afterwards." Sharon complained weakly about shunning my responsibilities and I cut her off so the conversation wouldn't last an hour, "I know it's my weekend, but I'm sitting on four cases and this last one is going to take some concentrated effort or it'll cool before we get a break." There was a long strained pause before she agreed to keep the kids. Sharon's only request was that dinner not be some quick drive through affair, I agreed. I thanked her for understanding and rested the handset back into the phone on my desk slowly. God, she was too fucking well to me. If you had to have an ex-wife who wasn't out to screw you at every turn Sharon was that wife. The divorce wasn't as ugly as it could have been, but we'd grown apart and this was the fix. My job was the problem and it was a problem that spilled over onto the kids. I hated that, I really fucking hated that. Of course this is where she took most of her exception from, my screwing up helping to raise our kids. I could screw her with late support payments, but fuck up doing shit with the kids and I'd catch her unmerciful wrath. I beat myself up also, so I got twice the dose when I made requests like this. She must have been in a good mood this week or her new man had bought her something special this week. I got to hear about Lance from the kids. If I said it didn't sting that would be a lie, especially since I hadn't had a serious relationship lasting more than a week since we divorced a year and a half ago. I still had feelings for Sharon, it was just to complicated. Fuck, it could be worse. The phone ringing brought me around and off the self-pity train I was about to take a long ride on. "Pastor..." "Hey John. Got your TOD for Kristal Cane, 1:18 AM. We're running the tox's now. Gonna show alcohol in the system for sure, picked that up in the saliva from the floor and blood." I was writing notes and wondered if the toxicology report would show anything besides alcohol in the system. There would be a complete report on the stomach contents, though Peterson had already used some of that to determine the time of death. I smiled thinking he missed it by three minutes from his initial guess, this guy was good. Kristal's place had a small assortment of alcoholic beverages, but no illegal drugs that I could find. There were prescriptions for what Peterson said were hormones and a few other things, but nothing unusual, they'd surely show in the tox report. "Couple interesting finds. We found seamen in the saliva from the floor sample we took. Best guess is no less than five minutes from the TOD she had this matter in her mouth. More was found in the stomach. We also have a pubic hair from her stomach for a DNA check. It doesn't appear she had sex before she passed. Oh and one other thing," he paused and I could hear him cover the mouth piece while speaking to someone, "Sorry about that, she took a bit of skin off of someone last night. Found a small amount of skin under two nails on the left hand. Someone is going to have 1/8-inch scratches or chunks out of some portion of their body. We're working those samples next. I'll get all this stuff in the computer after lunch and email you the case number. Questions?" Questions? Hell yes! But nothing Peterson could help me with, "No, get me the case number when you can Pete's. I owe ya." "No problem. Catch ya John." Good for you Kristal, you put up a fight. July 8th, 11:59 AM Kristal Cane was born Allen Breemer on July 23rd, 1980 in San Palo, Brazil. He would have been twenty-six in just a few weeks. His parents, Allen and Jennifer Breemer lived in Lake Tahoe. They were originally from Brazil and have lived in Tahoe for the past 10 years. Kristal had visited the US on several occasions, but was still a Brazilian citizen and here on a visa. I wasn't looking forward to making the call to inform Kristal' parents that their son was dead. Talk about an odd exchange this was going to be should they not know about his current life-choice. I'd call a buddy up that way to see if he could tell them in person. No way would Landon authorize a request to tell the parents in person, I'd ask him anyway. I pulled the printout for the phone records for both Kristal's cellular and home phones. There were a few calls made to numbers in Mexico and Brazil, those were probably going to get me nowhere but I'd check them out. The rest were local calls. The call made just before she had been murdered came from a Rachel Moore, the number was unlisted and for a condo near the strip. I'd have to run Ms. Moore through the computer to see what we were dealing with. All told there were 35 different phone numbers I would have to run down. There was also a call to an adult video store made about 6:00 PM last night, it was one of the stores we had picked up an invoice for from the table. Think I'll start there, hit the court, and then check out Ms. Moore. July 8th, 12:33 PM The All Adult Video storeowner was not comfortable talking with me about Kristal Cane. He had already heard about her murder on the morning news shows. That wasn't something I wanted to hear. Mostly because it gave him time to get his shit in order and secondly whoever did this was now even more on guard - if they were still in the state. If her friends were finding out about her murder this way then I'd have a tougher time getting them to open up without being guarded about what they say. Shit, how did it get out there so quickly to the press? I'd have to check with the local news services to see how that transpired. Trails leading to more trails I thought. "Tell me again why she called?" I asked after nearly everyone one of my simple questions about her calling was either dodged or the answer seemed to skirt the question. "I told you, I was busy and said I'd call her back." "Fine, anything you might think would be of interest to me, anything that would help me catch her killer maybe?" This guy was fast frustrating me to my breaking point. "I don't know, her shit didn't sell that well. Does that help?" he said lamely. "Can I get a list of people who bought her videos?" "We don't take peoples names here, get real." "Well here's something 'real' for you, this is my first stop of the day and I'm thinking there's more information here than meets the eye. You can either help me or I'll get a search warrant, maybe remove a bunch of stuff, close you down for a few days, hassle a few of your customers. Does that work for you?" and I stared at him with my best 'fuck you' face. "Look, I don't know shit. She makes lame videos, I buy a dozen or so at a time, freaks buy them, now she's dead. That's all I know. She called to say she had a new video and I said I'd call her back. That's it, no fucking smoking gun here man." He shifted back in his chair. "She sell direct to you? She works through someone? You know anyone who works with her?" "Come on, I've been over this already. What do you want from me?" he whined like I was really applying unbearable pressure on him to give me something to work with. "No, you come on!" I snapped. "Give me something or I'll be back and I guarantee it will be painful." And I had reached my breaking point. Ten minutes of wasting my time with this prick and I stood as if ready to leave. "I'm sticking with my story man. I'm sorry this happened, but I don't know anything. Best I can give you is this guy," and he reached into a drawer shifting papers around until he found a list of numbers, "This guy approached me about a 6 months ago to see if I was interested in Kristal's videos. That's it, I swear. Can I be done now?" He wrote the number down and the name, Brad Anderson. If Brad Anderson was who I thought it was it was going to add another twist to an already strange case. Anderson was the guy who had run into a problem last year with some kind of diamond delivery that went south for some Colombian or something like that. He had killed a couple guys trying to steal the shipment and got off. He'd long been linked to some questionable happenings over the years, but nothing ever stuck. I knew the guys running the case on him out of the Down Town Area Command and would hook up with them regarding Mr. Anderson. I didn't check into the registry of the condo Rachel Moore had called Kristal from but my bet Brad Anderson owned it, the phone numbers were the same. Anderson worked for a casino consulting company and was your basic high roller concierge's really. The majority of his services bordered on illegal if not illegal all together. It was only a matter of time before Brad made a mistake we could nail him on. This was an interesting twist indeed. More fuel for the Anderson file and my best lead so far. To bad this guy had a freaking Teflon coating. Think it's time to see if we can get something to stick. July 8th, 3:40 PM So much for appearing in court today. The defense lawyer asked for a continuance and got it. The assistant district attorney apologized and said she would contact me when I needed to appear again. My part in the case was actually pretty small, I was just there to back up the defendants motive for murder based on a case I had worked against him two years ago. I was there to show "a pattern of behavior". Shit, one look at the guys wrap sheet screamed "pattern of behavior", but nothing sold juries better than a live body saying it. I'd be back in a few weeks to testify most likely. I shut the engine off in the circular drive of the building Rachel Moore lived and flashed my badge to the parking attendant. He took my keys and parked the car near the exit. I was directed to the elevators and took the speedy ride up to the 63rd floor. The view of the city was going to be spectacular I thought. On the drive over I had gotten a call that confirmed Brad Anderson owned the condo I was about to visit. I had someone in vital records trying to track down information on Rachel Moore. The big question was what did Ms. Moore have to do with Brad and Kristal Cane? July 8th, 3:46 PM "No, I can't make it until later. Tell Brad to call me because this is so screwed up I can't believe he would set it up like this." I shook my head while holding the phone as if Lisa could see me. I smiled when she told me Brad could do it himself if he couldn't figure out how to get Alexa or Kristal to work tonight. She said she'd handle it with Brad and get back to me. I put the phone down and adjusted my bra. I smiled again at the refection of myself in the mirror. Yes they are! They were real! Well of course they were! What a silly thing to be thinking. I turned to get a look at myself from the left. Ah! My breasts never failed to amaze me and I cupped my hands under them pushing them up. The bounced, the jiggled, they were perfect! It had taken about six months worth of being treated by Dr. Hanson before getting to this point, but here they were! Your basic "all natural" A-cup. Hanson said that by the end of summer the new prescription he'd started me on last month should show 'favorable results'. Those were his words and I couldn't wait. The hormones to date had made other changes to my body and to my... A knock on the door startled me for a second, but I smiled mischievously in the mirror. Ah ha! Kristal, about time you got your ass over here! I was going to give her some major shit for not calling me last night! I threw a T-shirt on and ran to the door, opening it without even looking to see who was there. "You..." I began to speak as I flung the door open and as quickly as the door opened my heart froze solid. It wasn't Kristal and the man standing there while unassuming, looked like he was all business. I slowly closed the door a bit, standing more behind the door, staring blankly at the man. "Rachel Moore?" I could only nod and I could sense a dark cloud beginning to move over my other wise perfect day. "I'm Detective Pastor of the Las Vegas Police Department, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions." he said holding a badge and picture ID out for me to examine. I could barely even focus. Detective? Why was this guy here? He's here for me? The police had stopped me while driving last month, but they just gave me a warning and I was off on my merry way. That rattled me pretty good, but I pushed through it. Now there was a detective at my door? Did they realize they should have arrested me back then? Wait, this couldn't be about me, right? Oh shit! I looked at the detective and I couldn't speak. My face was blank and a million thoughts were rushing through my mind. I can't breathe. What do I... "Ms. Moore, I'd like to talk with you about Kristal Cane, may I come in?" he asked politely, putting his badge away. "Kristal? Why?" I asked dumbly and with more surprise in my voice than I realized. I could feel my face was flushed but not from being embarrassed. Breathe! "It would be best not to discuss this in the hall, but if you are busy maybe you could stop by the station later today." What? Kristal was under arrest? Oh shit! She didn't tell him about me did she? God, this guy seems so focused and there is no way I was going to manipulate him into just leaving me the hell alone. Oh and there was no way in hell I wanted to enter a police station willingly! Not even for Kristal. I had to stay composed. Relax, he wants Kristal not me. I mean not that Kristal being arrested was a good thing... Shit! "What's this about?" I asked trying to stall and buy a few more minutes to think this out. "If you need a few moments to get dressed I can wait." There was understanding in his voice, but his words seemed tempered with 'I don't play games'. I was stuck. Why did I answer the door! God damn it Kristal! "Ah... OK, come in I'll just... you know get dressed." and I opened the door so that he could enter. This wasn't going to be good. I watched him walk through the door and look the condo over. "Nice place you have here." he said looking toward the slider. I got the message loud and clear though, he knew this place wasn't 'my place'. "Thanks, it's not my condo." I replied sounding like I was on a witness stand and guilty of some crime. "It's Brad Anderson's place right? I have to say it's probably the nicest of the six or so places he owns in town. I don't suppose Brad is around?" Oh shit. He was asking about Brad and that wasn't good. These were loaded questions. I nodded 'No' and noticed he was staring at me. Crap! I was wearing one of my own T-shirts and not one of Brad's that I usually pranced around in. This one hit me just about at the hips and the white lacey panties I had on were probably glowing, even in this sun soaked room. No! Why is this happening to me? I smiled weakly, "Ah, I'll be just a minute." and headed toward the bedroom. I didn't look back, but I knew he was watching me as I headed out of the room and out of sheer embarrassment I pulled my T-shirt down over my ass as I walked quickly away. When I reached the hallway and was out of sight, I sprinted the fifteen feet or so into the bedroom and carefully closed the door behind me. Shit! Phone! Where's the damn... and it was where I'd left it on the sink in the bathroom. I frantically dialed Brad's cell phone. It went straight to the answering machine, which meant he didn't have it turned on. I hung up and called Lisa. It rang three times and I got her answering machine. No! I was just talking to her! I tried her cell phone. Nothing! Oh God! I grabbed my purse and headed toward the bed, dumping it out looking for a tiny piece of paper with Brad's pager number. Gotcha! I dialed it and punched in my number and added 911 to it. Brad knew I was in serious trouble if I did this. I'd only done this twice before when I was in over my head with a few men he had set me up with. I hung up the phone and stared at it, willing it to ring. Come on! Ring! A painful three minutes passed and nothing. FUCK! I looked back at the bedroom door I can't stay in here. I pulled a pair of sweatpants from the dresser and pulled them on quickly over my bright neon pink toenails. At home I never wore the gaffe, but everything was tucked easily out of sight these days. The hormones had helped make that an easier task of course. Did it matter right now? Augh! Why am I going there?!! I look like crap. I took one last look at the phone and decided it was time to get back. I can't do this... July 8th, 3:52 PM When I opened the bedroom door I could feel heat in the hallway. That meant the slider was open and the detective was on the balcony. When I rounded the corner he was just reentering the living room and closing the slider. When he turned and saw me standing there he stammered, "Incredible view. Were you able to get Brad on the phone?" My mouth dropped open slightly and I looked toward the phone on the counter. Did he pick up the extension? How did he know I tried to call Brad? I just stared at him blankly. OK, he just guessed that. Stay calm... "You seem pretty nervous. What did Brad have to say?" "He didn't answer..." and I felt sick all of a sudden. I pulled a barstool out from the breakfast bar and clumsily sat. I watched him as he pulled out a small pad and wrote something down. What was he writing? I can't even remember this guy's name! "I just have a few questions I wanted to ask you. Can you tell me when did you last saw Kristal Cane?" he asked flipping a few pages in the note pad until he found what he was looking for. "Kristal?" I asked like I hadn't heard the question. My ears were ringing, but that was the least of my problems. He was switching gears on me. Brad, now Kristal... "Did you see Kristal last night?" I paused, but spoke as if outside my body, "Yes, but why do you want to know that?" Was that an intelligent question? I needed to be careful about what I said and I tried to focus on the detective's face. Can I stall until Brad calls? "Ms. Moore, you haven't seen the news today or talked with anyone about Kristal?" there was the slightest hint of concern in his voice. Now I was worried, my stomach twisted and churned uncontrollably. Had something happened to Kristal? I nodded 'No', unsure that I could have spoken. "I," he paused and closed the distance between us by half, "I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but we believe Kristal was murdered last even..." The last word I heard before the room began spinning was 'murdered'. I felt myself slipping off the barstool and tried to catch myself before hitting the floor. I landed hard on one knee and with both arms locked. As painful as that was the vomit spewing from my mouth and my nose was worse. I couldn't breathe and every time I tried another stream of puke poured out of me with unbelievable force. After the third retch the dry heaves began and I was feeling dizzy. I was on my knees, on my elbows, puke all over my arms, puke on my hands, unable to draw in a full breath of air... I could sense the black moving in and rolled to my side just missing my own pool of puke. I closed my eyes... "Ms. Moor..." July 8th, 3:57 PM "Just lay still for a second. You were out for just a few seconds, just relax now. Are you taking any medications?" A washcloth was moving about my face and came to rest on my forehead. What the hell... and the tears began flowing. It hit me full force again and I realized what this man had just told me. My body began convulsing in tiny strained jolts as I began crying. Kristal... "I'm very sorry, I thought you knew." I could barely see the man kneeling beside me. I felt my legs being lifted and placed on a rung of the barstool I had fallen from. I couldn't stop crying. I closed my eyes and tried to wrap my head in my arms. No, this can't be happening... "Hello..." I wasn't going to answer him and then realized he was talking on the phone. He sounded distant, like the air in the room was heavy and sound wasn't traveling, as it should. "Detective Pastor of the Las Vegas Police Department. Mr. Anderson?" I tried to wipe my eyes, but the tears just kept flowing. "Ms. Moore is fine, she's resting right at the moment." there was a pause, "Would you be able to join us here?" I willed my body to move, but could only manage rolling onto my side, bringing my knees toward my chest. I could smell puke on the rug, but my arms were clean. Thank you detective... "That would be a good idea. I'd be a little concerned leaving Ms. Moore here alone right now... Yes that's why I'm here. You would have gotten a call from me sooner or later... I'd appreciate that... Yes... No, not a problem I'll see you in a few minutes then... Good, Thank you." I watched the detective hang the phone up and then scribble in his notebook. What had Brad said to him? I didn't want to think. I didn't want to move. This can't be happening. I wiped a tear from my cheek and noticed a tissue being dangled before my hand. I took it and pressed it to my face. "Brad asked me to tell you that he was on his way and that he should be here in about ten minutes. Can I get you anything?" I shook my head and tried to collect my thoughts. This can't be happening... and the tears began to flow again. "Rachel, I have to ask you some questions about Kristal. When you saw her last, when you last talked with her? Can you do that?" I shook my head 'No' and tried to wrap my head in my arms again. "I understand, honestly I do, but if we have any chance of finding the person or persons who did this I'm going to need your help." He seemed softer in his approach now, but as much as I wanted to help I wasn't going to say anything until Brad got here. I couldn't anyway, so what did it matter. July 8th, 5:03 PM I had expected Brad Anderson to dominate the answering of my questions for Rachel, but hadn't realized she was going to defer every single question to Brad - well almost every question that is. Something wasn't right about this relationship and I just couldn't put my finger on it. I didn't sense she was in fear of him, but something was going on there beneath the surface. If anything she seemed more worried about me. Why would that be? To Brad's credit he did seem very open and didn't try to dodge any of my questions. He was smooth, damn smooth. Never even used the, "Talk to my lawyer." comeback even once. He explained that his involvement with Kristal was as a friend helping to promote her films. He explained that in his line of business you "tend to meet the right people" and that he was able to get Kristal connected with a producer in Mexico. I pressed the Mexico connection and got nothing more. We had the numbers Kristal had called in Mexico and my initial thoughts about them being tough to track might get a little easier with Brads help. That would take some work though, but maybe Rachel could help with Brad. Play the two ends against each other? That might work seeing as there was a real connection between Kristal and Rachel. When I asked Rachel if Kristal worked for Brad she never even blinked before Brad said, "On occasion she saw clients of mine when she wasn't traveling." He of course quickly added that he had no business relationship with her. I thought about asking Rachel what she did for Brad, but decided to hold that question for another time. And there would be another meeting between Ms. Moore and I, without Brad Anderson around. As I drove back to the station I wondered if my questions about the "Life's Passion" DVD made Rachel uncomfortable, because she seemed to check out of that conversation. I didn't press her about the video, it would be a follow-up question. When asked if she knew anyone from the videos she said she did and that Kristal had left the Grand Cayman's casino with Grant after they had met there last night. That answer seemed to slip out and Brad tried his best to act like it didn't matter. It was one of the few full sentences she'd uttered to that point. She didn't know Grant's last name, but Brad supplied it, Grant Dornshire. He explained that he was an investor in video technologies. Video technologies? Is that what they call it now? I could smile now about that exchange. As if I didn't know that 'video technologies' was the same as funding 'porn'. Brad told me that Dornshire lived in Huntington Beach, CA, and usually came to town every couple months. He also said that Kristal and Dornshire left the casino together about 11:30 PM and that was the last time they had seen the two of them. He went on to say that he and Rachel had arrived at the condo around 12:15 AM and the doorman and security system for the elevators could verify that. More slick answers from Mr. Anderson, nothing seemed to rattle him. He had all the right answers and I at least had another lead -Dornshire. When I asked Rachel if she had talked with Kristal after leaving the Grand Cayman's Casino, she said she had called her apartment, but only left a message. Her answer to why she called seemed simple enough and I got the sense she was being honest, "Because, well Grant and I were having dinner and she joined us and then they left together. I was just playing..." And she began crying again. That didn't explain how Brad had showed up with the group last night, but I'd follow up on that later. When she was composed again I asked the usual questions about enemies, jealous boyfriends, and the like. Got the same answer for all of them "Everyone loved Kristal and there was no way anyone would want to hurt her," then more tears. I wasn't sure about the open show of emotion, but I'd eventually put it together. As I pulled into the station parking lot it hit me that Rachel had really fooled me, for the first few minutes at least. I mean she was very much like Kristal, very feminine looking, low controlled voice, curves in all the right places. Hell, she wasn't obviously male at first glance or anything like that, but I should have picked up on it as soon as she opened the door. Fuck this is one twisted case! I wonder how similar their lives were? How does one do this? Wait, I hadn't ask if she was involved in the videos with Kristal. She only said that Kristal was involved in the videos and it was something she enjoyed doing. Was that her problem? Was that why she was nervous? Shit, was Rachel in the 'video technology' business also? I half-chuckled out loud. One way to find out was to watch the videos we'd taken from the apartment. That thought made me shift in the seat as I turned the engine off. Crap! I can't be so fucking horny that this shit is going to get me off? Fuck no! I need a Goddamn life! July 8th, 8:51 PM I had taken a lot of crap from the evidence guy about copying Kristal Cane's DVD before calling it a day. He basically said I was "One sick fuck!" for wanting to watch the videos. It didn't help that plastered all over the back of the box were descriptors for the film like "Shemale erotic adventures!" and "She gives as well as she takes!" I had to watch at least some of this shit to see if there were any links or leads I should be following. Watching this shit had nothing to do with getting my rocks off and I pretty much told the evidence guy to fuck off. This was going to suck I thought taking a long pull from my beer before queuing up the DVD from the couch in my apartment. While all the FBI warnings about illegally copying the DVD scrolled past I managed to take a couple bites out of my Subway sandwich. Subway was my attempt at eating healthier and I had stopped on the way home to get my usual Turkey Club. It wasn't like I'd gained a bunch of weight or anything; in fact the opposite was probably the case. What it really was is that I was a workaholic. That meant I was great for getting my job done but it screwed up so many other areas of my life. Oh yeah, did it ever fuck up those other areas -relationships, health... "I've got what you want!" a woman's voice blared from the speakers in front of me, scarring the crap out of me! The insides of my sandwich flew as I scrambled to find the remote that had slipped between the cushions of the couch. Shit! Goddamn kids and their movie watching! I got the volume turned down just as loud rock music began playing in the background and Kristal, clad in sheer lingerie, gyrated on the screen pointing at menu items: "Play Video"; "Kristal's Passions"; "Kristal's Friends"; "Goofs"; "Credits"; "Feature Films". When she finished pointing to the menu items it repeated, "I've got what you want!" No you don't, I thought to myself and clicked on "Play Video". There were four "featurettes", if you will and just let it play from the beginning -"Mile High Passion". Probably some nature flick because that's the only place they could film this crap, deep in the back woods. After the title faded, the screen lit up again showing the inside of an airplane. OK so I'm stupid shaking my head while salvaging what I could from my first half sandwich. "Mile High", duh! Filming was taking place at the rear of the airplane and it was obviously a night flight because the windows were completely black. Wait, maybe this was some kind of subway and I chuckled between sandwich bites. In place of the roaring of a jet engine there was music, bad fuck film crap. At first it was annoying, bad music and passengers just sitting there trying not to look at the camera. Then stewardess Kristal began making her way up the aisle with magazines in a short uniform skirt and you knew it wasn't going to be long before people were naked and fucking wildly. Fuck the friendly sky's and I smiled a bit thinking this might not be to bad if I could continue picking it apart. Then I lost that train of thought as quick as it had hit me. I felt a slight stirring in my pants and shifted on the coach as if to while it away as nothing. Then I began to rationalize it. I'm human right? Hell, Kristal looks like a woman and it's been a while. I'm not fucking gay, I'm just horny as shit! So what if I'm a little turned... "Magazine?" she said to the man in the last row of seats while bending over, her breasts straining to break out of her skimpy uniform top. "No, I was thinking of something a little different." he replied in a thick Latino voice. Kristal looked back to the rear of the plane and then back to the passenger, rested a hand on his leg and whispering in his ear. He did not seem to miss a beat and his hand slowly caressed her leg and inched ever so slowly up her skirt. The camera followed and an up skirt camera shot past thigh high stockings and a garter belt was the reward. When his hand made it to the promise land she stood and walked to the bathroom just behind where he was sitting and entered it. The camera zoomed in to show the doors lock status was "Open". Once the door was shut the camera cut to the man Kristal had just been talking to, he had a rather large bulge in his pants. Guess that means he had better go get that taken care of I thought. Of course he better get up, go to the bathroom dummy, there's releif in there! He stood just as I finished my coaching and made his way to the bathroom, opened the door and stepped inside without hesitation. The camera now shot from above and you could see Kristal and the passenger jockeying for position in the small-cramped bathroom. Kristal could be seen with her hands at his waist and then making a downward pushing motion with her arms. The camera zoomed in on her hands quickly and she was holding a very erect cock now, a very large cock, between her red polished nails. They wasted little time before they began kissing. The kissing went on for a while and eventually the camera angle changed, shooting from between the passenger's legs upwards. Kristal's hands pulling, stroking, and caressing his balls and the shaft of his cock. Their bodies were so close that it was difficult to see much except hands wrapped around every part of this guys private region. Occasionally you would see up her skirt to her white panties, but the action between them made it hard for the camera to focus on one thing. Then from above they broke their kiss and the man slowly pushing Kristal to a sitting position on the toilet. It didn't take much effort on his part to get her sitting before him. His throbbing rock hard cock seemed to bounce ever so slightly with his every heartbeat just inches from her face. She looked up at him while licking red glossy lips. Then she took his shaft aggressively in one hand while the other wrapped around his waist. "You have the most gorgeous cock I have ever seen!" "Suck it for me..." "It's all part of our First Class Service!" Kristal replied. And with that exchange of riveting dialog she snaked her tongue playfully around the head of his cock. His hand went immediately to her face and pushed her back just slightly. The camera was now looking at her from the side and zoomed in on her mouth as her tongue played with the tip of his cock. She then kissed it gently and you could see him tense up. He was careful to keep her hair out of any camera shot, didn't want the stars face to be hidden now did we? He looked right at the camera and then closed his eyes as Kristal must have taken him in her mouth. When the camera lowered back to the real action she was trying to get every inch of him inside her mouth. Fuck! It hadn't taken to long before I had my own ragging hard-on and it was because of this "woman-wannabe" giving head to some cheese ball! I slide my hand to my belt and undid it, then zipped open my pants. Fuck! A fair amount of precum had soaked my boxers already and NOTHING had really even happened! I need a fucking life! I reached for the remote and was about to turn the video off when Kristal took the cock into her mouth again. This time slowly at first, so painfully slow! Then her face road it to the tip and slurped at the engorged helmet that was the head of his cock. She looked back up and the camera angle changed to show her from above. It was as if she were looking right from the TV into my eyes. I was mesmerized for a moment and you could tell she knew what was she was doing. She knew she had you locked onto what she was doing. Shit! The camera switched to a crotch shot of the man standing before her, then back to the side as she took the majority of his cock into her mouth again. She moaned as if it was really affecting her and the man standing before her could be heard taking small controlled breaths. "That's good..." he huffed, "this is why I only fly this airlines." Holly shit! This is definitely one of the most intense blowjobs I have ever seen. She attacked his cock with her lips and sucked on his shaft so hard it made a noisy popping sound whenever it escaped her mouth. Up and down, fast, slow, long teeth grinding trips over this guy's cock that put him deep into her throat. When I would have guessed it could go no further Kristal would pull him deeper into her mouth and down her throat. She would hold him deep in her mouth and grind him against the deepest regions of her throat. FUCK me! I was beyond controlling my own hands and quickly rolled my hands slowly over my throbbing cock. Shit! My own cock was throbbing and in pain. Kristal' piston like action on this man had me so hot I was nearing my own explosive climax after just a few strokes, which I hadn't realized I had been doing. When the man grabbed at her hair and began forcing himself into her mouth I lost all control. I squeezed my cock hard as if I could prolong the inevitable and through clenched teeth my seed rocketed from my cock in two large globs. I held my cock as its spasms throttled lightly in my hand and I tried to bask as best I could in the fleeting sensation. Cum running down over my fingers and I threw my head back. Goddamn it! Fuck! I rose from the couch carefully, holding myself precariously so as not to let my cum get all over the place, but ended up wiping my hands on my boxers. I made my way to the bedroom pissed that less than five minutes into this DVD it was over for me. I shouldn't even have gone there I cursed. Fuck! In the bathroom I grabbed a towel and cleaned myself off as best I could and decided I'd seen enough of Kristal for the evening. I dropped the towel as some serious moaning and cry's to "Fuck me!" came from the living room. Yeah, FUCK YOU! I thought and there wasn't any more sound... When I came around the corner the airliner setting was no more and the scene was that of a girl's bedroom. Pink pillows, posters of young Hollywood guys on the wall, school books on the bed. The camera panned left and there she was with her back to the camera. She was wearing a schoolgirls uniform, pleated skirt, knee high stockings, sheer white cotton blouse... This wasn't Kristal... "Rachel!" a girls voice rang out in the background. She turns toward the camera. I quickly paused the video. Well what do we have here Ms. Rachel Moore? To Be Continued...