Burdened By Guilt

by Michiko Katsu

  “Suzanne?” He repeated. “Are you okay?”

  She looked at the softness in his eyes and knew this was exactly where she wanted to be. She smiled up at him and brought her hands to his face. The beard she dreamed about felt erotic under the softness of her palms and she imagined the torture he could induce with that hard stubble.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m more than okay.”

  He tilted his head in his own silent question as if waiting for secondary confirmation. Under more sober circumstances she would have chickened out but two bottles of wine and a fantasy come to life later, nothing would stop this moving train.

  She slid her hands down his neck then back up to his cheeks again reveling in the abrasion then moved down his chest and stomach. Although no longer a teenager she could feel the residual body of an athlete. Under the softness of middle age she felt the solid steel of over developed muscles stretched across hard bone.

  She reached for his belt buckle and spread her legs allowing him to seat his pelvis perfectly against her swollen tissue. Her excitement soaked the cotton of her lace underwear and she felt the hardness of him against the zipper she fought to undo.

  He spread his knees pushing her own legs farther apart and lifted his hips from the cradle of her sex. An obvious invitation she took it without hesitation releasing him from the confines of his pants and the boxers underneath soliciting a low groan from deep within his throat.

  Just like the rest of him, he was soft on the outside then hard and pulsing underneath. She tightened her grip and stroked him down the base then up again stopping at the most sensitive spot. Her thumb circled around then up and down causing him to groan again.

  “This is going to be an early night if you keep that up,” he breathed.

  She smiled but continued her onslaught reveling in her control over him.

  Apparently unwilling to let her completely unman him, he grabbed her hand. “My turn.”

  He sat back and undressed her. First her blouse, then her bra. Each time he touched her skin he followed with a kiss or a lick sending her into mindless passion. She felt his finger circle her exposed nipple which hardened into points. He followed with the tip of his tongue then his mouth only to pull away and blow on the aching nub. Again, he circled with his tongue and followed with his mouth. Over and over the heat followed by the coolness of his absence made her breathless with anticipation.

  The beard she fantasized about in such detail scratched along her stomach as he moved his mouth from her breasts. One hand raised her hips as the other undid the button and zipper on her skirt then pulled it and her underwear down her legs, over her feet then tossed them onto the floor.

  Naked and exposed she lay quietly as he removed his own clothing, slowly and meticulously as if he was intentionally dragging out every second. She felt his eyes rake across every inch of her body and she shivered from the intimacy he demanded.

  His fingers and mouth explored every crevasse eliciting sensations she’d never experienced. He started soft and slow teasing every moan from her. They danced across her skin playing her like the most delicate instrument with the mastery of a virtuoso. As she relaxed into the sensation his motions increased as did his intensity. The adagio turned to allegro as she stiffened in anticipation. From her core to the tips of her fingers she felt the impending orgasm build and build.

  Each time she reached the precipice he withheld his push keeping her from falling into the mind-numbing pleasure of her release. He tortured her for what felt like hours. His tongue pressed against her. His fingers jack hammered inside her. Over and over her insides clenched in readiness only to stop and fall back into the frustration of unfulfilled desires. She wanted to scream at him, beg him to stop torturing her but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak his mouth clamped down on her wrenching a wail mixed with pleasure and pain.

  Tears filled her eyes from the sensory overload and his unwillingness to let her come. She wanted him to stop but at the same time she hoped he never would. Never had she felt so appreciated and so valued knowing his attention was focused only on her pleasure. It wasn’t real. She knew that. She accepted that. But for now…at that moment…it was real. And that was all that mattered.

  She closed her eyes and let her body take over her mind only to scream out in surprise and no small amount of pain. His girth stretched her limits as she felt the expanse of his hardness fill her completely as he sheathed himself inside her.

  He whispered sweet words into her ear which she didn’t hear as she couldn’t focus on anything but the sensation of him buried inside her. It has been years since she’d been with a man and her vibrator notwithstanding nothing prepared her for her current situation. She held her breath and her body stiffened in response until his words penetrated through to her brain.

  “Shhh, Suzanne. Relax baby. Just relax,” he cooed. “I’ve got you baby. I won’t hurt you Suzanne. Just relax.”

  She felt him withdraw slightly then return as if coaxing her body along with the breadcrumbs of his movements. Small increments were deliberate and controlled then increased as her muscles relaxed. His previous attention and technique were the perfect preamble as each stroke reignited her fire as if filled with gasoline.

  He removed her ability to think about anything as he rode her like a wild animal he wanted to break. Focused and attentive at times then demanding and unrelenting at others he pushed her limits in ways she never imagined. He gave her exactly what she needed and she took it like a starving woman handed a piece of bread.

  Chapter 27

  Morning sun streamed through the horizontal slats of the blinds as gray sheers diffused the beams into a quiet hue of yellow and white. The sun brought with it not only a new day but the clarity of thought serving to highlight the previous evening’s mistakes. Unprepared for the awkwardness of the morning after conversation Mike accepted her offense to his unannounced departure as the price of his cowardice.

  After a cab ride to his car and a quick shower he made his way to the lab to address the multiple messages Jill had left on his phone. A large cup of coffee in one hand and convenience store bag stuffed with goodies in the other, he made his way through the double doors leading into the lab. He hoped to distract her from any questions regarding his perceived avoidance of her messages with what was inside.

  "Geez Mike, I was starting to worry. It isn't like you to keep me waiting especially on something like this. Where the hell have you been?” She looked up from her microscope. Her black, Buddy Holly glasses sat perched on her head, her face washed with irritation until she saw his appeasing gifts. “What’s in the bag?"

  He set the bag down on her desk revealing the contents.

  “You shouldn’t have,” she smiled holding two cans of some over caffeinated energy drink, an apple fruit pie and a pack of unfiltered cigarettes. “Breakfast of champions.”

  He smiled grateful he made the right choices. "So your message said you were able to lift some prints off of the duct tape roll."

  "Yep. Ran 'em through AIFIS and even got a hit. Someone by the name of Kathryn Stanford. Ring any bells?" She popped open the first can and drank deeply as she pinched off a bite of the fruit pie.

  "No. What does her record say?"

  "Nothing much. A DUI arrest when she was eighteen but that's it. Nothing else before or after that."

  "Where’d you find the prints?"

  Brushing her sugar covered fingers on her white lab coat she pulled out pictures of the evidence and pointed. "There was a forefinger and middle finger from the left hand on the inside cardboard and a thumb print on the outside tape. A few additional smudges but nothing I could tie to her or anyone else in the system."

  "So they would be the perfectly placed prints if someone was holding the roll with their left hand and tearing off a strip of tape with their right?" He asked, simulating the motion.

  "As perfect as any prints can be, yeah."

  "Makes sense. What else?"

  "Nothing
unusual about the scene, outside of the human jigsaw puzzle of course. The blood found in the bathtub belonged to the victim. No surprise there. All body parts are as well so, no souvenirs. There were a dozen or so additional prints at the house but nothing probative. Any identifiable prints showed up with trespassing, petty theft or vagrancy arrests. Given the neighborhood I would’ve expected as much but here's a list so you can investigate. The caulking on the door was standard kitchen and bath stuff. You can find it at any local hardware or multi-goods store. Also, there were traces of polymerized rubber, carbon black, and sulfur at both scenes. "

  “Components of?”

  Jill’s head tick-tocked as she thought. “Tires mostly.”

  “Tires?”

  “Yep. They are chemical components of standard tires.”

  Mike thought before responding. "I guess I need to find out who Kathryn Stanford is. Hopefully she'll confess and we can move on to the next one. That it?"

  "That's it for victim number one," she paused.

  Mike cocked his head. "Victim number one? You got something else from one of the other victims?"

  "Not exactly,” she said. She turned and picked up another piece of paper and handed it to Mike. “Either this is an incredible coincidence or you may not have to look very far to find Kathryn Stanford."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning, I also happened to find Ms. Stanford's prints in Dr. Kelly's office."

  Mike's stomach dropped, any hopes of her involvement in the third murder as only coincidental were dashed.

  "They were everywhere,” Jill continued when Mike didn’t respond.

  “Maybe her attacker wasn’t wearing gloves after all,” he mumbled.

  “Well not exactly.”

  He looked at her.

  “When I say everywhere I mean everywhere in a sense that they were left by someone who spent a lot of time there."

  “Her attacker ransacked the place,” he explained.

  “True,” Jill hesitated. “But prints left during that activity are usually superficially located.”

  Mike squinted.

  “Usable prints from something like that are usually on the outside or tops of things. If they are ransacking—”

  Mike waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

  "I'm not saying Kathryn and Suzanne are one in the same,” she backtracked. “From my understanding she had a lot of break-ins over the past few months. If the perp didn't wear gloves and was looking for something, for example, that could also explain the amount and location of the prints. I'm not making any assumptions. I'm just telling you what I found."

  “Sounds like assumptions to me,” Mike accused.

  She stared at him then continued. "Scenes one and three—if you want to count the attack in the mix—are complete as far as the forensics are concerned. I know Greg still has some outstanding requests into tox based on your request but outside of that, we've provided everything we have at this point."

  As if summoned, Greg’s head appeared through the double doors. “Mike,” he called, his round head and pudgy fingers the only things visible. “I’m glad I caught you. Gotta’ minute? I got the results from those additional tox requests you asked about."

  "Yeah, great," Mike wiped his hand over his face and looked up at the florescent lights. “Thanks for the info,” he said half-heartedly to Jill.

  There were no benefits to being head coroner at least in terms of office space. Boxes stacked floor to ceiling in Greg’s broom closet which also housed two shelving units covered with specimen jars, books, folders and everything else he could fit on the horizontal surfaces. His desk sat off center with piles of papers leaning precariously against an old CRT monitor. A single barrel cactus in a painted terracotta planter gave the room the only indication it was an actual office and not just storage.

  "Well, you were right," Greg said, his back to Mike as he stared at his screen. "There was something extra in both their systems. Diazapam."

  "Diazapam," Mike echoed. "You mean Valium."

  "Yep."

  "So depending on the dosage it would be enough to incapacitate a person but not necessarily knock him out."

  "Yep."

  "And pretty much anyone can get it."

  "Yep."

  "So I'm screwed."

  "Yep."

  Mike’s hopes of Greg providing him anything he could use to narrow down the potential suspect pool were deteriorating with his mood. "Anything else?”

  “Yep.”

  Mike waited irritated at Greg’s need for prompting. “Well?”

  “Well, I also found traces of propoxyphene and oxycodone.”

  “That’s quite a cocktail.”

  “Yep.”

  “Darvocet and OxyContin,” Mike put in laymen’s terms.

  “Yep”

  “So, yet again depending on the dosages and combination it could be debilitating or lethal.”

  “Yep.”

  “And like Valium it only takes a prescription.”

  “Yes and no. These two are highly regulated Series Three drugs. While you can get them with a prescription you can’t get them without a driver’s license. Maybe that’s your in.”

  “Maybe.”

  "Kevin tell you about the third note?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, then—th-th-th-that's all folks." Greg waved one hand across the bow of his ship.

  "Great. Thanks Doc," Mike said and turned to leave his office.

  "Any time Mikey. Any time.”

  Walking out of the building he stopped just outside the door and took a deep breath as people walked by him to start their day. His skin itched with irritation and anticipation unsure if the information he received was good or bad. The morning sun’s interrogation kept him from rationalizing as he reminded himself that information on its own was neither; it's the implication and context that qualified it.

  What the hell was he going to do now? Like a set of child’s building blocks, the facts stacked up against Suzanne in an intricate, colorful but completely inexplicable fashion. There was no rhyme or reason just extraneous details pointing to a single locus while giving no direction on how to reach it. Her identity now in question, her proximity to the third victim was all but secure and he witnessed her confirmation to a preexisting prescription of Valium. Under any other circumstances he would be in his car driving to her house ready to confront and even arrest her.

  But he wasn’t going to do any of that.

  He scratched the newly forming beard on his chin; the four days’ growth itched like crazy. Questions about the night of her attack formed as he forced himself to think rationally. His discomfort at her evasiveness that night reignited giving him new suspicions. He never found her attacker and neither had anyone else. Nor were they able to find anything putting someone unusual in or around her office. It was just her word someone was there. She provided no details except to say she couldn't see his face. She was adamant about that one fact ensuring she would never be able to identify any suspects. How convenient.

  Mike got into his car and slammed the door. Up until last night his ability to remain objective was compromised but intact. Images of a black widow spun webs through his mind and he cursed his inability to resist her. If the facts continued to push him down this path and Suzanne’s guilt became irrefutable he questioned his ability to extricate himself knowing he had already gone too far. Her hold on him all but solidified he hoped his case wasn’t the only thing in jeopardy.

  Chapter 28

  The rejuvenating morning light stopped short at the glass panes protecting the shared office now used as a library carrel. Mike found Kevin sleeping at his desk. He was bent sideways at the hip using his shoulder as a pillow, the Heart of Darkness still flexed between his fingers with the broken spine blurring the words. Except for the top button now open and exposed behind his loosened striped blue tie, his white shirt remained starched and clean.

  “You been here all night?” Mike asked. His slight smi
led indicated he was both amused and impressed.

  “Hm…what…yeah. I mean yes. I—I’m almost done.” Kevin bolted upright and ran his hand through his unruly hair as he yawned. Straight, white teeth dulled by vending food and multiple cups of stale coffee encircled his cavernous mouth as an unstoppable whine escaped to his embarrassment. The stubborn curl flopped back over his eyebrow and remained as if unnoticed. “Although in all fairness I still don’t think I’m going to be the best person to give literary context. I can tell you who said what to who but that’s all I’m going to be able to do. This is a pretty hard book to read in only one day even with the Cliffs Notes.” He tossed the book onto the desk. “Why aren’t you talking to Dr. Kelly about this?”

  “I think we’ve involved her more than necessary already so I’m leaving her out of this. Besides it isn’t such a good idea to keep a civilian in the loop of a multiple murder investigation that is going to explode in the media any day now.”

  Kevin stared at him with vacant eyes.

  “You all right?” Mike asked.

  Kevin continued to stare at his chest.

  Mike whistled at him.

  Kevin jerked upright. “Huh, w-what?”

  “I asked if you are all right,” Mike smiled and shook his head. “You don’t seem like you’re completely here. Did you stay up all night reading that book?”

  “Well, yeah,” Kevin defended. “You told me to have it done by today. I didn’t think it was optional.”

  Mike nodded his approval. His resolve and dedication impressed him no matter how ridiculous the request. He had told him he wanted it done by today but he wasn’t being literal. He just wanted to ensure Kevin wasn’t going to treat it like a book club meeting.

  “Well kid I give you credit for completing the task,” he said.

  Kevin’s eyes crossed slightly but he was able to conjure a smile of satisfaction.

  “You need a couple of laps around the building. That’ll get you your second wind,” Mike told him. It was a tool he successfully leveraged many times in the past. “Now get up and get running. There’ll be fresh coffee when you get back.”