Mistrusting A MemoryChapter 33 free porn video

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Bob was turning in tickets. He'd been approached by no less than six people when he came into the building. Dillworth was gone. News like that travels like lightning in any organization. He'd heard not only that Dillworth was gone, but the circumstances of how he'd gone. The place was still abuzz with it. Nobody knew exactly why it happened, but the manner in which it had taken place had made the detective division euphoric. He didn't think anything about it when his supervisor, Captain Quincy, approached him.

"Turn those in later," said Quincy. "The chief wants to see you." He sounded worried. "The commissioner is with him."

"What for?" asked Bob. He had a sinking feeling he knew what it was for. If anybody took even a little time to look into things, his relationship with Lacey couldn't remain a secret for long.

"I don't know," said Jeff. "I asked them if they wanted me there, and they said it wasn't necessary."

"That's fucked up," said Bob.

"They asked me one other thing ... before they said that," said Jeff.

"Yeah?"

"The chief wanted to know how I'd feel if I lost you."

Bob looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Bob," said the captain of the traffic division. He actually looked sorry. "I tried. I told them you were one of the best I have. That's when he told me to have you report, and that my presence wasn't ... necessary."

"Probably trying to keep you out of the union tussle," said Bob. "You don't need that shit anyway."

"You ARE one of the best," said Jeff. "You make life interesting, and sometimes you're a pain in the ass, but you're one of the best."

"Thanks. They in the conference room?"

"No, the chief's office."

"Anybody else there?"

"The union rep's not there, if that's what you mean. You want me to notify him?"

"It's not your job, Captain," said Bob.

Bob didn't delay. He just went out of the squad room and up the hallway. The chief had his office on the same floor as the squad rooms. He felt like it made him more accessible, though why he thought normal patrolmen would ever seek him out without a summons was a mystery. Bob went into the front office. There was a young woman there who he knew was named Marjorie. He'd never talked to her before, though.

"Officer Robert Duncan," he said simply.

She smiled gaily. He wondered if she'd trained herself to do that, just to try to keep from being dragged into emotional situations. "I'll tell him you're here." Bob started to sit in one of the three chairs against the wall, but she said, "Don't sit down. He's expecting you."

Bob stood at parade rest in front of the chief's desk. No use acting like a slouch. The way he saw it, he'd had a pretty good run, and even if they canned him, with the kind of experience he could offer he wouldn't have any trouble getting a job in another city. He'd have to work his way up again, but he was already at the bottom here, so it didn't matter.

"I want you to know that the only reason you're standing here in uniform is because you referred the Fetterman woman to a psychiatrist when she thought you were her boyfriend," said the chief. The commissioner was standing, leaning against a wall, with his arms folded. He was impatient, because he'd been here for over two hours and had other matters to attend to. But it didn't show. He just appeared to be ... watching. Bob wondered what kind of man would want to be there to watch the slaughter.

The patrolman didn't say anything. What was there to say?

"I assume you aren't seeing her anymore," said the chief.

"No, sir," said Bob.

"Good. I..."

Bob interrupted him. "What I meant, sir, is that you're incorrect. I am still seeing her."

"You want to explain that?" ask the chief, his voice choked.

"No, sir," said Bob. "It's personal ... and I don't think it would matter even if I did." He stared straight ahead. "I'm not going to try to hide it, though."

"Charley," said the commissioner. "Take a breath." Bob's eyes flickered to the man, who was staring right at him. "You're a maverick," the commissioner went on, addressing Bob this time.

"I suppose it could be viewed that way," said Bob. "Sir," he added belatedly.

"A city councilman's wife tried to shoot you," said the commissioner. "She's coming up for trial pretty soon, by the way. I checked."

Bob wondered what was going on. Were they just playing with him?

"Yes, sir," he said, his voice neutral.

"The last woman you arrested for a serious crime ... the woman you're seeing ... got off scot free," said the commissioner.

"Yes, sir," said Bob.

"You arrested her for murder, and now you're ... dating her? Don't you think that looks a little odd?"

"She was found not guilty, sir," said Bob.

"Oh, believe me, I'm aware of that."

"Other cop's wives have been arrested and prosecuted," said Bob, beginning to feel the anger rising in him. "They don't get fired when that happens."

"You're going to marry her?" There was finally some emotion in the commissioner's voice.

"This is a bad idea," said the chief.

"Hang on, Charley," said the commissioner. "You know why we're doing this. Let's see it through."

Had Bob not already been stiff, he would have frozen, but not because of the commissioner's comment. What his mind centered on at that moment were his own last words. Where had that come from? He loved Lacey, and he knew she loved him, but there had been no talk ... no thought ... of marriage. And yet he had put her in the same category as an officer's wife. His mind roiled and his fingers twitched behind his back. He felt a tenseness, almost a feeling of panic.

"Well?" asked the commissioner when Bob didn't say anything. "Are you going to marry her?"

"I ... um ... we haven't talked about that," he finally said. "But my point remains, sir. That's personal. If the press asks me about that, I'll tell them the same thing."

"That's all fine and well," said the commissioner, firmly. "But in any case, she's part of the equation."

"What equation is that, sir?" asked Bob.

"Go ahead, Charley," said the commissioner, apparently turning things back over to the chief. "This doesn't really change anything."

Bob's eyes bounced down, to the chief's face, and then back up. The man was red in the face.

"You may be aware that this department needs a Captain of Detectives," said the chief.

Bob had no time to adjust to the change of subject. He couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Yes, sir," he said. "That was an excellent management decision."

The commissioner coughed. It sounded almost like a stifled laugh, but it had to be a cough, because he coughed some more after that.

"You want to tell me why you feel that way?" asked the chief, his voice tight.

That was something Bob WAS willing to talk about, and he did, at some length, staying in his formal stance and staring straight ahead. He had listed seven reasons why Frank Dillworth was bad for the division, or the department in general, when the chief stood up.

"That's enough!" he said harshly. "Look at me."

Bob did. The man was angry, but there was something else in his eyes ... something Bob couldn't quite categorize.

"At ease," he finally said. He tossed a hand. "Sit down over there."

Bob looked behind him and saw a chair. It was a nice chair, with a high back, covered in dark brown leather.

"Here, sir?" he asked, unsure again of what was happening.

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Chapter 33 Videos

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 5

The place he directed her to was a tiny hole-in-the-wall that she would have never given a second glance. She realized how hungry she was the instant she walked in, through the door Bob held for her, and the odor of wonderful, delicious things hit her like a sledge hammer. "Vinny!" Bob called out to a man, standing at the grill, wearing a white paper hat. Vinny looked over his shoulder, grinned, and held both hands up in the air, a spatula still in one. "You got me, copper," he said....

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 6

Lacey was ferrying a flash drive containing hundreds of photographs from the dig to the museum. A major discovery had been found. A collapsed cellar had been uncovered and, inside it, there were bones. Human bones. It wasn't clear yet how they had come to be there, but there were no indications of intentional burial. The artifacts found with the bodies suggested that people had taken refuge in the cellar and had died there. The pictures were needed at the museum as soon as possible, so that...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 7

Bob had just left the briefing room, coming on shift. He hadn't even buckled his seat belt when the radio squawked to life, telling him of a multiple injury accident, with an explosion involved. Paramedics and the fire department were already on the scene. Three patrols were being dispatched, and all three were still in the parking lot, after the briefing in the squad room. Three engines roared, and three sirens began to wail, as tires screeched. It was impossible to get close to the...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 8

When Bob went off shift, he returned to the hospital. "How come you're the only cop who ever checks on her?" asked the head nurse. "It's my case," he said bruskly. "How's she doing?" "Better," said the nurse. "She should be awake. All her vitals are normal. The sedative has been stopped. The only reason she's still in ICU is that she won't wake up." "I'll just sit with her for a while," said Bob. He'd stayed in uniform, since that got him almost anything he wanted, with...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 9

Sleep came with difficulty for Bob. His mind roiled with the import of what he knew ... or thought he knew. He tried to convince himself that cars caught on fire all the time. There was only circumstantial evidence that the dead man was her rapist at all. Even the fact that there had been no more rapes with that modus operandi didn't prove anything. Like Lacey, no one had come forward to ask where their son, or brother, or father, or husband was. The crispy critter, still unidentified, was...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 10

He took her to the impound lot, answering her questions when he thought he could do so safely, and dodging them or changing the subject when it got close to something he didn't want to talk about. She was appropriately awed by the damage to her car, and only glanced through the box of her possessions. The attendant brought out a bill for storage, and Bob tore it up. "Hey, you can't do that!" said the attendant. "I just did," said Bob. "The lady was in the hospital while it was...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 11

He took her to Santini's. On the way, he told her a car had sideswiped hers, and that she hadn't been injured. While she was trying to help others involved in the accident, an explosion had occurred. He left it simple. "Explosion," she said, her voice far away. "I remember light ... all over ... I was submerged in light." "What else do you remember?" he asked, his voice guarded. "Just that. When you said explosion, it just came to me." When they walked into Santini's, Donna met...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 12

Bob eventually slept, despite the erection between his legs that demanded attention. It was still demanding attention when he woke the next morning, with a soft, naked woman pressed against his body. It had been a long time since there had been a naked woman of any kind pressed against his body when he woke. That had been a result of long hours, and an unwillingness by Bob to turn over part of his life to any woman. It wasn't that he didn't like women ... it was more that he hadn't found a...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 13

Bob went back to his apartment. The bed was still unmade and the wrinkled linens held the imprint of a bed that had been slept in by a couple. The pillow she'd used was lying against his own, like her head had lain close to his. On impulse, he bent to sniff the sheets where she had lain. They smelled like ... her. He hadn't missed the verbal slip that the doctor had made. She'd been about to say that as much as she would have liked to get naked with him, right there in the office, it...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 14

Bob sat and read magazines, until there were none left to examine. There was no noise coming through the door—it was so quiet he felt like he was the only person on the planet. Eventually, his ears detected the hum of air being pushed here and there by the building's air handler units. He heard a siren dimly, through the walls, but no traffic noises. He checked his watch so frequently that he finally took it off and put it in his pocket. Finally, he dozed off. He woke, when the door opened...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 15

Bob popped two Vivarin when he got into the squad car the next morning. She had kept him up all night, satisfying her own needs and making up for the dry spell Bob had been in. He felt drained, but also more relaxed than he'd been in years. He was no longer distracted, either. Lacey had another appointment with Claire, but he was no longer worried that she'd suddenly realize there was no past between them. That had already been addressed. Now all he had to worry about was the return of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 16

Lacey went back to see Claire ahead of schedule, and told her everything that had happened. Claire put her under again, and spent an hour exploring the details of the rape that she hadn't gone after earlier. As each horrible part of the assault was revealed, Claire worked more instructions into the dialog, intended to minimize the emotional impact of the memories. Then she brought Lacey out of the hypnotic trance and spent another hour with her, concentrating on the things that Lacey felt...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 17

Bob heard her gasp as he left the bedroom. His head swiveled and he saw her standing there, bent slightly forward, her arm outstretched, hand turned sideways in a fist at the top of a candle. Her face was so pale it looked almost ghostly. Her mouth opened and an agonized groan was torn from her throat as she dropped the lighter and reeled backwards. Her eyes stared at the tall, pale yellow flame that the lighter had created at the tip of the candle, but her mind saw the same hand,...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 18

Back in the apartment, Claire asked questions. They were not "What did you do?" type questions, but rather were "How do you feel about what you did?" type questions. Lacey didn't feel good about any of it. For the psychiatrist, it was like walking a tightrope. Or, perhaps it was like making her patient walk the tightrope. There needed to be remorse for a bad deed, for there to be health in the mind and spirit. But it could be taken too far, and the patient could begin to hate herself,...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 19

She was adamant about keeping her appointment with Claire. He was glad she was going, because he had to go to work. He hoped Claire would talk some sense into her, and he made her promise not to do anything until she'd talked it over with him, no matter what she decided to do. She was waiting for him when he got home from his shift. She was calm, but looked drained. "I have to make this right," she said. "If you're sure about this, then it needs to be done right," he said...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 20

Two weeks later Bob was coming home from the gym, still dressed in his sweats. McDill had instructed them, superfluously, not to see each other until after the trial. He had been noncommittal after his questioning of Bob, concerning what his defense would be. "I have some ideas," was all he'd say. Bob turned the last corner and started toward the entrance to his apartment building. A car pulled to a stop at the curb next to him and the window rolled down. "Get in!" came a male voice he...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 21

Roger Schwartz grabbed his briefcase and hurried for the entrance/exit of the new suite of offices the prosecutor's staff was lucky to have just moved into. Lucille, his secretary, called out a cheery "Good luck!" as he sailed by her desk. "Don't need luck!" he yelled back, flashing her a grin. In fact, he believed that. He was one of the up and coming lawyers of a generation that believed skill would make "luck" an archaic term. If that seems a bit rash, perhaps it could be said...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 22

The door to the jury room opened and a man wearing glasses came in. He looked at something on a clipboard in his hand. "We're about to begin," he said, with no other introduction. "I need to give you some information about what's expected of you. Please listen closely." He read a list of rules, things they could and could not do while they were sitting in the jury box. His voice droned, making it clear he'd read this list countless times in the past. Fully half the jury tuned him...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 23

The next witness called after lunch was probably a poor choice for that particular spot in the lineup, but it hadn't been planned that way. It was the medical examiner who had done the autopsy on Kinneson's remains. Schwartz apologized to the jury for what they were about to hear, and then had the doctor describe the compound fracture in the victim's leg, which would have made it impossible for him to move around on his own. Then there was the testimony of the condition of the lungs, which...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 24

It was day two of the trial and Roger was ready to produce testimony about the DNA identification of Gilbert Kinneson's remains. He had contacted Senior Technician Fred Simms, the lab supervisor, and hastily explained what he needed. Simms said it would be no problem. Schwartz tried to be as clear about things as possible. "Now I know that there were a lot of tests done on the DNA from the body," said Roger. "That's not germane to the issue in this trial. All I need is an overview of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 25

Instead of calling the first defense witness, Matthew now exercised his right to cross examine Officer Robert Duncan. Once Bob was on the stand, and had been reminded he was still under oath, Matthew began what he believed in his own mind was some of the most important questioning he'd do. He didn't want to ruin Bob, but uppermost in his mind was Lacey's welfare. "When did you first meet my client?" was his first question. Bob named the date and said, "I needed to interview her as the...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 26

There was a diner, of sorts, on the first floor of the building. It served pre-packaged sandwiches and salads. There were also hot soups, Polish sausages, hot dogs, kraut and the like. Maggie wasn't interested in the fatty foods, so she chose a bowl of mushroom soup, with lemonade, and took it to one of the small tables that were scattered around. She sat in one of two chairs at the table. She was joined by Helen, who asked if she could sit in the other chair. Neither woman seemed to be...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 27

"The defense calls Doctor Claire Montgomery to the stand," said Matthew. Roger stood. "Your honor, I fail to see the relevance of anything this witness could bring to the issue. I must object. Mental state is not at issue here. The accused did not plead based on insanity, either temporary or otherwise." Matthew spoke clearly. "Your honor, I have already indicated that I'm trying to establish motive for my client's actions. This witness's testimony is crucial to that...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 28

As soon as Claire left the courtroom, the judge turned to the jury. "I'm not going to sequester you, because you have not started your deliberations. You may all go home to your families, but you are not to discuss anything you've heard in this case with anyone, under any circumstances. Is that perfectly clear?" Most of the jury nodded. "Court will resume at nine-thirty tomorrow morning," he said, and banged his gavel hard on the block. The gravity of the situation had penetrated...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 29

The jury room hadn't changed much, but the changes that HAD been made were obvious. At each of the twelve chairs around the long table, there was a cheap name tag, made of paper folded into an inverted V. Maggie's was at one end of the table and bore the title "Foreman." It was almost lunch time and some faceless employee had provided a tray of sandwiches, individual bags of various kinds of chips, fruit, and pre-packaged salads from the cafe downstairs. There were also a dozen kinds of...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 30

An hour and a half later Judy again chirped, "Let's vote!" Maggie looked around. People looked tired. A lot had been said, but there didn't seem to be any general consensus. Voting would at least be trying to make progress. She passed out ballots. This time, when she separated the pieces of folded paper, there were four in the guilty pile and eight in the not guilty pile. Everyone looked surprised. "My, my," said Maggie, who had changed her vote, but didn't expect anyone else to do...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 31

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked Judge Gunderson. Maggie stood. "We have, your honor." The bailiff took the folded piece of paper from her hand and walked it to the judge. He opened it. He looked at the jury, and then back at the paper. "Was this unanimous?" he asked. "Yes, sir," said Maggie. Gunderson handed the paper back to the bailiff, who returned it to Maggie. "The defendant will stand," intoned the judge. Lacey and McDill stood. Lacey looked like she might fall...

Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 32

As it turned out, Claire's misgivings were justified. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and she had no clue as to how to proceed. Had she been in her professional setting, she would have controlled the conversation. She couldn't really do that, there in the restaurant. So, she chose to try giving Lacey the redemption she sought. "They forgave you," she said, her voice tight. Bob shot her a look that said very clearly, "What the fuck? You don't mean that." Lacey didn't see...

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Bert charged up to the bridge as soon as the shuttle docked. "Ma'am," he said as soon as he had the Captain's attention, "if the Sa'arm react as quickly as they did on that last hop we're going to have real problems getting anyone else off that planet." "I believe you," replied Alice getting to her feet. "Have you got any suggestions as to what we can do to help?" "I've no idea," said Bert honestly. "The best thing we could do would be to create some sort of diversion and...

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The afternoon session was a blur as my mind kept going back to my last moments before rushing here. I hungered for my husband. I was looking forward to the end of the afternoon session, and then. It was over. Time to get out of here. I rushed back to my room, our room now. And where was my husband? Laying on the bed. Naked. His cock harder and bigger than I ever remember seeing it. And he was softly stroking it. His fingers softly rubbing just below the purple head with a glistening...

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It was early Saturday evening; Tom, Karen and Susan were sitting by the pool. Everyone else had left. “Tom.” Said Karen, I don’t know how to thank you for this weekend. It was just wonderful.” “It sure was dad.” Susan spoken turning toward him, arm holding up her head. “All the girls said that I had the most wonderful dad in the whole world. You really made an impression on them.” “Oh ... come on now ... It was just a ... party.” Tom said, feeling humble. “Tom Wilkins, now you give...

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Rich was even better-looking than I remembered, he was absolutely gorgeous. it seemed like you had to be to work at Beauty and not just as a model. I guessed that so far I'd passed all the tests, even a few that weren't exactly required. I'd only met Richard a couple of times at parties, but he remembered me well when Phil introduced us. I brought in the photographs; he looked them over quickly in the restaurant. "They look great," he said, putting them away in their manila envelope....

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Bound with tights and gagged with panties taken from the drawer of her dressing table, Susan Roberts, the cheeks of her still ???? ??????????? ??????????????? ????All The Way Down?? ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? ???????????????? ??? ????????????A work of complete fiction for Adults who see it as such???? ???????????????????????? Contains no names or references to any known person ???????????????????????????????????????? ???????By...

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Kayla knew something was up. I never said anything to her. Hell, I could easily convince myself it wasn't her in that car in the parking lot. I had no direct evidence, after all. Everything was, in the parlance of the lawyer shows on television, circumstantial. Even so, I couldn't help but be depressed. Maybe she doesn't love me anymore. Perhaps I should take Eric's advice, just let it go. Go back to Florida, forget about Kayla, have fun with Alex. Have fun with Erin. But there really...

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