Dirty Harry 09 - The Killing Connection (2 page)

The second floor landing was as empty as the first. In actuality, the building was one big, roughly circular staircase consisting of carpeted steps, wall-length landings, and a thick, round, wooden bannister. The apartments themselves seemed merely an appendage. The wall was nicely papered and old-fashioned double lamps were installed high on the walls. They gave the building a burnished glow.

As nice as they were, they shed little light, only enough to cast a pale shadow. Kim wasn’t the kind to think that the landlord installed twenty-five watt bulbs because they saved him half-a-penny in electricity. She was the type who wanted to feel that he had done it to create the proper mood.

Basking in the warmth of her evening and the golden dimness of the house, Kim pushed the third key on her brass key ring into the first lock on her door, and turned to hear the tumblers open. Then the fourth key went into the second lock. Pulling out the metal opener, she dumped the keys into her pocketbook while turning the doorknob. The last things she made note of before entering was that she was glad the door had one of those crystal-like knobs cut like a gem. The door itself was so strong, solid, and thick.

The hall light drained into the dark apartment. Kim knew she should have left a light on, but every little saving helped, especially on her salary. Even without the illumination, she could see where the mock oriental rug ended and the framing teakwood floor started. She took pleasure in picturing the entire second floor apartment in her mind.

Small, but exceptionally comfortable, there was the entrance which led to a small eating area. To the left was the kitchen. The two doors off that led to the bath and bedroom. Moving forward from the door, the dining spot spilled into the living room with its plush sofa sitting before the bay window which looked out over the park.

Moving back to close the door and turn on the light, she realized that a large shadow had brushed by her breasts just as the door closed firmly behind her.

A moment after that sensation, Kim succeeded in quelling her initial surprise. It could’ve been anything, she told herself. Maybe she had left a window slightly open. It had been a bit muggy the last few days, so she could have, almost unconsciously, left a living room window ajar to let in some cool night air. Or it could be the breeze from the closing door.

Secure in that rationalization, Kim relaxed, only to tense again when a hand clamped around the wrist of her arm reaching for the light.

Kim was caught off guard, the cry caught in her throat. She breathed deeply, her lungs filling and her back arching.

At that moment, the hand left her wrist. It reached up and slapped around her mouth. But instead of covering her lips to stifle the noise, the tough, hard fingers were pushed into her open mouth. Kim suddenly had a mental picture of the intruder breaking her jaw by pulling her mouth apart. Just as she brought a sound up through her larynx, his other hand appeared, holding a red rubber ball.

The thing swung down across her face. As it passed, she could just glimpse, through closing eyes, two tails on either side of the ball flapping behind it. Then all her concentration was centered on her scream. She could feel it was in her throat and her mind leaped ahead to when its sound would burst into the apartment and swell through the entire building.

The sound was cut off by the ball being rammed against her teeth. Her shocked struggle was momentarily stilled and the shout cut off as her eyes snapped open and her jaw forced apart. The strong pressure behind the three inch hunk of rubber was pushing her mouth to its very widest opening. It silenced her completely.

She painfully tried to fight against it just as the ball snapped in place almost behind her teeth. It was large enough to force her tongue down so she couldn’t push it out. It was alien enough to sap her full strength. All her attention focused on the red ball.

By the time she was able to get enough pressure inside her mouth to dislodge it, quick fingers tightened its two tail straps on the back of her head. Knotting it quickly, he fastened it against the back of her neck. The rubber ball was now securely in the girl’s mouth.

With quick viciousness, his fingers snapped around her left wrist again. She cried out at the tight roughness of his grip, but all she heard was a distant grunting. To her astonishment, she felt saliva and mucous building up in her mouth—her body reacting to the rubber wedging in her mouth as if it were something to eat.

She felt her attacker pulling her left arm until it was straight down her back. As her forearm was pushed against the rear of her dress, she felt something hard encircling her wrist and heard a click. The attacker’s fingers let go, but the pressure did not let up. She still couldn’t raise her left arm.

But she could raise her right. And just as she did, the attacker reached between her shoulder and neck to grab a hunk of material covering her stomach.

“So you like pussy too, huh, bitch?” he whispered in her ear as he pulled her dress up. “Well, I love pussy and I just want to make sure yours won’t go to waste.”

The attacker pulled until the hem of her dress rose past the garter straps and panties. Then he reached down quickly. Kim looked down, her eyes wide, to see the man hand-off the free end of a pair of handcuffs to himself. Holding it tight in his right hand, he swung his left arm around her body, then handed the end back. He pulled her cuffed left hand between her legs from the back while grabbing her right wrist.

The attacker picked her flailing arm out of the air like a sharpshooter. He half-pushed, half-pulled the limb down her own front until it was parallel to her left arm. Then he professionally snapped the open end of the handcuff around her unencumbered wrist.

“You like that dike meat, huh, baby?” he hissed at her. “You like it a lot, huh?”

Her cuffed hands were on either side of her crotch, one in front and the other behind—the short chain digging into her vagina through the satin of her underwear. To keep her upright, his hands had left her arms and were grabbing across her front.

“How does it feel, baby?” she heard him coo into her ear. Then his fingers were everywhere, rubbing, slapping, grabbing. Without ceremony, he slipped one hand into her dress and behind her bra. The other settled again on her right wrist. He kneaded her ample chest with one while pulling up with the other. Her head rolled back against his chest and shoulders, her eyes looking wildly at the ceiling, tiny burbling noises and spit coming out from behind the ball.

“How does it feel?” he repeated with a savage pleasure.

There was cutting pain at her wrists and shoulders, a twinging hurt across her chest and a burning ache between her legs.

How did it feel? It was a mockery of the tenderness and giving she had shared with Lisa. It was a vicious travesty of heterosexual affection.

“Feel good?” the attacker continued, holding the small girl upright, practically lifting her off the floor as he rubbed her breast and pulled the handcuff chain even tighter against her loins. Kim tried to scream, but the rubber ball diminished the call into a gurgling rattle.

“No,” the attacker guessed, his face a dark blotch above her head. “Well, maybe that’s because you’ve never had a real man, bitch. Maybe you’ve never had a man at all because of that dike meat. It only hurts because you’ve been starving for dick meat, baby.”

He grabbed either side of her dress’ neck line and ripped it apart. Kim tried to bend over and twist away from the man, but her awkwardly cuffed hands kept her from moving too far.

She made it into the kitchen, but slammed up against the table. Before she could right herself again, the man was upon her. Only this time they were face to face.

The first thing she saw was not his visage, but the long stiletto he held up between her eyes. It seemed to gleam in the moonlit apartment.

“You want it, don’t you?” he asked ominously, the words coming to her from a darkened, seemingly featureless face. He twisted the blade around slowly, as if it were a beautiful work of art to be savored. “Something long and sharp and hard, right?”

Tears of pain coursed out of her widened eyes, but she couldn’t get anything but her neck to move. It twisted her head slowly from side to side.

“But not this, right?” the attacker said, going along with her motion. “Something else . . . somewhere else.”

With that, the knife point drooped, and started a slow descent down her front. The knife point stopped as it pointed at the thin strand which held her bra’s two cups together. Curling his fingers around it, the man snapped it in two. The satin fell aside, leaving her chest totally exposed. Kim turned her head away as she felt her skin reddening.

“What a shame to waste this,” he breathed, caressing her breasts again on either side of her cuffed arms. He moved in close, letting the switchblade drop further until the point barely touched her hip. “How could you keep all this from us?” he admonished, his breath coming in faster gasps.

He pressed with both his body and his hands until Kim was practically pushed back onto the table. To keep her balance, she had to push forward, her legs kicking, until she found herself almost sitting. She still couldn’t see her attacker’s face—only feel his wiry strength, smell his stinking skin, his alcohol-coated breath, his smoke-soaked clothes, and sense his rage.

It was only when she was practically sitting on the table did he snap out of his frenzy of desire. Pulling back, he wrapped one hand in her hair and lifted the blade to her neck.

“You want it, don’t you?” he asked, pushing his crotch against hers. “Tell me you want it.”

What emerged from her filled mouth was a meaningless jumble of noises. But the tone was enough to get her meaning across.

“Come on, bitch,” he said threateningly, pushing the knife harder against her throat. “Tell me you want it.” Kim nodded abruptly—twice.

“That’s my girl,” the man said with satisfaction. Pulling her off the table by her hair, he pulled the knife back until it was next to his head. “Well, I won’t be needing this anymore,” he said, nimbly closing it with one hand. “You hold it for me.” Still keeping a tight grip on her hair, he lowered his blade hand to her leg, pulling up what was left of her skirt. Then he pushed the knife between her skin and the top of the stocking.

“Now come on,” he said roughly, half-walking, half-dragging her into the living room. As soon as his foot entered the room, he threw her forward with both hands, propelling her onto the couch. She landed on her side and bounced onto her back. Instantly, she tried to bend her legs to pull her stretched, aching arms in front of her. But again, he was too quick. Seeing what she was trying to do, he jumped on her.

He grabbed her right wrist again and pushed her left leg up until it was bent flat against her front. He did it so brutally that all the air was knocked out of her and she struggled for breath while he pulled her left arm out from behind her. Her shoulder and arms stretched until she was sure the bones would break. Suddenly both her hands were in front of her.

Before she could fight back with them though, the man quickly undid her belt, slipped the handcuff chain behind it, then buckled it tightly in place again. She could only scratch at his crushing torso. She tried to sit up, to push him away, but she wasn’t strong enough.

“Relax, bitch,” he told her. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He twisted her until she sat straight on the couch. Then he pushed her back when she tried to roll past him onto the floor. Laughing, he pushed her legs apart and wedged his own kneeling body between them.

Kim didn’t look at the rest. She arched her body away from the man, succeeding in raising her crotch to his level. That left her head behind the top of the low-back couch. She didn’t see him undoing his own belt. But she felt it all. Every panicked sensation, every feeling fueling her terror.

Out the window, she could see an upside down view of Golden Gate Park. And dimly in the distance she thought she could make out—just for a second—the figure of another girl, a brunette, walking under an overhead lamp in the distance.

When it was all over, and the man finally finished satisfying himself they both relaxed, spent. Almost reluctantly, he reached up and unfastened the ball gag between her teeth. Then he pulled on its straps until it popped out of her mouth.

Kim licked her dry lips and worked her aching jaw for a second before she sighed, closed her eyes, and pulled herself up to a sitting position.

“Come on, stupid,” she said, wiggling her fingers. “Get these things off me. It’s her you’re supposed to attack. Not me.”

C H A P T E R
T w o

T
he light from above seemed sent from heaven. For most of her trip along the Park paths, Lisa Patterson had laughed at her own fears whenever they had popped up. Everytime she felt some paranoia coming on, she breathed deeply and looked carefully around her. The park was indeed beautiful at this time of year and she stopped for awhile to appreciate the nighttime loveliness of her surroundings.

The rest of San Francisco sparkled overhead and in the distance, the fog added sparkling white highlights to the skyscrapers and brownstone-filled hills. As for the park itself, it was lush and filled with finely manicured green foliage which prospered in the sixty-five degree autumn weather. And pervading it all was the lonely, symphonic choir of the fog horns.

Lisa took it all in and decided that she was glad she had decided to walk home. Upon reflection, she decided that her nervousness was merely defensive. For some reason, however, she couldn’t completely shake the feeling of unease. She had crossed the park many times before and never felt this edgy, this uncomfortable. Maybe it was the unusual amount of moisture in the air, but even though she stayed in the middle of the path and amid the lightest areas possible, it didn’t succeed in soothing her discomfort.

Suddenly she stopped. She turned to look back at Kim’s apartment window off in the distance. She stood until the wisps of fog cleared enough for her to see that the bay window was dark. She must have gone right to bed, Lisa assumed, staring at the blank flat glass for a few moments more. Something about the dark, seemingly empty apartment brought up a feeling of regret within the woman. She turned and continued on her way, her pace brisk.