This is a work of fiction. The persons and events in this story are entirely fictional and invented, as are the locations and descriptions of those.

The following story contains adult language and situations and is rated NC-17. The author is not responsible for any discomfort this story might cause in the reader.

This piece of fiction is inspired by two photographs of Russell Crowe, though no relation to Mr Crowe the person or real-life events pertaining to him is intended in any way, shape or form.  This is a purely fictional piece.

Devil in Disguise?

by: B

© 2007/2008

“NOOO!!!”

A young woman collapses on top of a man’s body, crying, sobbing.

~*~

A few hours later at the police station

“Do you want some coffee? – Miss Jacobs?”

Miss Samantha Jacobs looks up. Her eyes are red from crying and empty. Her face, now showing a swollen bruise on her cheekbone, still shows how beautiful she is. The young detective wonders once more how such a beautiful and obviously intelligent woman – she is a medical doctor working in the emergency room in the Central Hospital – how such a woman could end up with a monster like Robert Hays.

“No, thank you. But if you have a glass of water, please?”

“Of course.” He nods to the cop to fetch her some water and speaks quietly to him.

A few minutes later the cop returns with a plastic bottle and plastic cup – and another detective, a woman.

“Pete.” She nods to him and then turns to Miss Jacobs. A small, slim woman. “Miss Jacobs. I’m detective Marcia Simmons. How do you feel? I would like to ask you some questions, if you’re okay.”

“That’s why we’re here, right?” Her voice sounds a bit smoky.

Detective Simmons nods and sits down opposite her.

“Miss Jacobs, can you tell us what happened?”

“I betrayed him. He trusted me and I betrayed him.” Her voice is low. “Why did I not trust him? I knew he wasn’t guilty.”

“Miss Jacobs. Samantha. Do you mind if I call you Samantha?” Miss Jacobs shakes her head, no. “Samantha, why don’t you start at the beginning? You can take your time, we are in no hurry.” Detective Simmons’ speaks in a calm, comforting voice.

Miss Jacobs takes a few sips from her cup, takes a deep breath and starts…

~*~

About one year ago

It had been a tough week with a lot of rain and therefore a lot of accidents and the night shift had been busy all week. It was the usual, motorbikes, bicycles, car accidents and of course the typical fights between street gangs. And we were shorthanded.

Thursday night and my last shift for the week, I don’t know the date, probably the 10^th, you can find it in the records. Anyway. I had just set a fracture and was in need of some strong coffee when they called me.

“Sam! We need you here!”

“What’s up?”

“Bad accident. Bicycle vs. van. They’ll be here any minute.”

With that the automatic doors opened and they rolled in the biker. His face was covered with blood, his right leg and his left arm and shoulder were in splints. He had his eyes closed but was not unconscious.

“Vital signs are okay, oxygen 85%. His leg is broken, shoulder probably dislocated. The driver of the van didn’t see him and smashed him against a wall.” The paramedic continued with his report about what medication and treatment they had given him so far and then went off. The man’s ID said his name was Robert Hays.

“Mr Hays, my name’s Samantha Jacobs, do you know where you are?”

“In a fuckin’ hospital after that fuckin’ bastard ran me over. Fuck! Can ya give me something for the pain?”

His voice was strangled with pain and anger, his Aussie-accent thick but pleasant.

“Of course, Mr Hays. We need to examine your shoulder first though. Do you have any allergies?”

He shook his head and I gave orders to the nurse and my assistant while  explaining to Mr. Hays what I was doing as I examined his shoulder and the wounds on his face.

He hissed a few times and cursed once or twice before the pain killer kicked in, but watched me intensely the entire time.  Despite his facial wounds, it was easy to see he was a very handsome man.

“Mr. Hays, it appears your shoulder is dislocated, but I want an X-Ray and an MRI to make sure there isn’t any internal damage not presenting itself.  Gary, please see to it that Mr. Hays is attended to immediately. Harris is in charge today.”

Harris was a third year assistant and owed me a thing or two.  Mr. Hays was back after about a half hour, all tests complete.  I was with another patient, but excused myself to tend to Robert – Mr Hays.

“Well, everything looks as I was expecting, Mr Hays.  Gary and Jill will set your leg which is definitely broken, no bike riding for you for awhile.  But first, we’ll fix your shoulder, it’s going to hurt, I’m afraid.”  I gestured for Gary to come help.

“No worries, doc. Go ahead.” His voice sounded more relaxed now and had a nice smoky baritone.

“Okay. Can you sit up?”

~*~

We kept him for three days in observation. But I didn’t see him because those were my days off before I started working the morning shift.  First thing I saw when I entered the emergency room was a huge bouquet of beautiful flowers on the counter.

“Hey Nick. Did I miss a birthday?”

“Morning Sam. No, they’re for you. A secret admirer.” Nick waggled his eyebrows and winked at me.

I had no clue who it could be and the card that went with the flowers only said Thanks to a wonderful and beautiful doc.

“Do you know who brought them here, Nick?”

“What? Oh! It was a deliveryman.”

They were really beautiful.  It’s pretty rare for a patient to send flowers and I couldn’t think of anyone who would do so anyway. I left the flowers on the counter for everyone to enjoy since they work just as hard as I do.  The day was very busy and soon I had forgotten about the secret admirer.

Six weeks later I learned who had sent the flowers. I had the afternoon shift now. It was not so busy that day and I had time to check the reports and have some coffee, when he came in a crutch helping him along. I didn’t recognize him at first, although his eyes... he seemed familiar.

The scratches were all gone and his face was framed by three days’ stubble. But he limped directly towards me, a smile on his face, holding out his free hand to me.

“Doctor Jacobs! G’day! Did you get my flowers?”

“Your flowers? I didn’t… Ooh! Yes, yes I did. Thank you. They were beautiful.” My brain still worked hard to recall who he was and he must have noticed it.

“Hays. Robert Hays. The bike accident.”

“Yes, of course! Mr Hays. Nice to see you on your feet again. I see you’re doing well. How is your shoulder?”

He moved his arm back and forth, up and down and grinned. “Good as new. You did a good job, doc. I’m here to get the cast off today.” He tapped the crutch against his cast.

“Oh. Good! I’m free at the moment. If you don’t mind… Bill! Exam 3 is free. Can you take Mr. Hays there and prepare everything to cut his cast? … I’ll be right with you.”

Bill and Mr. Hays went to the room and I signed the last report and called X-ray to make sure he wouldn’t have to wait too long.  I hate it when our patients have to sit for hours to get their examinations and treatments done – especially when it is a quiet shift.

The fracture had healed well and I recommended physical therapy to strengthen his muscles so he could go bike riding soon again.

“I feel like celebratin’, Doc. When are you done here?” he said with a smile. His voice was a smoky, rolling baritone that surely was capable to drive any woman crazy.

“Mr. Hays,” I began

“Robert.”

“Mr. Hays, I’m sorry, I don’t go out with my patients,” I said and ignored the grimaces and gestures from Nick and Jill.

“Well then ... I’m not a patient here anymore. And I’m not askin’ for a ‘date’, just a drink or dinner…” he just didn’t let up and finally I gave in.

It had been a while since I had been asked out – ‘date’ or not – and he seemed decent and good natured. And something in his eyes was … I don’t know … mysterious. Attractive and at the same time scary, very intense. Like the whole man.

“Okay, Mr. Hays. I’m off at 10 pm. A bit too late for dinner I’d say. If you pick me up, I know a nice bar.”

Jill and Nick gave me thumbs up and grinned – and Mr. Hays’ face lit up with a smile that revealed dimples in his cheeks and the cleft in his chin showed even more.

“Right-o, Doc. See ya then.”

Of course in the last minute of my shift an emergency came in and my colleagues all had been occupied and so it was my call. Luckily it was not complicated and the patient was soon taken care of and handed over to the next shift, but I was still almost half an hour late when I finally had refreshed and redressed and met Mr. Hays.

He was in a good mood and not at all upset and we spent a very nice late evening together at Pete’s in Barkley Ave.

Over the next three weeks we saw each other at irregular intervals about five or six times for breakfast, lunch or dinner, depending on my shifts.

He was an interesting man, a photographer. At my request to see some of his work he told me that he was working on an illustrated book at the moment and wouldn’t show any of his pictures before its release. I had to accept that, of course. I mean, we weren’t close at that time. I wouldn’t even say that we were friends then.

We had not met at each other’s houses yet. He seemed reserved about it and I didn’t live alone. I shared my apartment with a friend, Mickey. He was, is, a musician, a composer. Not famous, but he earned a living and paid his share of the rent. And he was very protective of me.

We each had finished an unhappy love affair a short time ago. He had caught his long-time lover with a girl – and I had caught my very jealous boyfriend with a girl. Since then neither one of us had had a real relationship.

~*~

I had been pretty much wrapped up in my studies and work during the past few years and didn’t really get to see or hear the news, and so I was shocked when Mickey told me about the trial from ten years ago the next time Robert and I were supposed to meet. I was angry – angry with myself for not knowing what was going on in the world, angry with Mickey, because he told me right when I was about to leave the house and angry with Robert because he didn’t tell me. So I decided to ask him about it right away – better stop this before it has begun, you know.

“I was going to tell you, Samantha,” he said defensively when I took him to task.

“You were? When? When you’d have me trapped? Tied up and under control?” Yes I was really angry – and therefore unreasonable too.

“I have not been charged. I was acquitted of all accounts.” His voice sounded hurt and I felt bad. “Do you think they’d let me work here if I was previously convicted?”

I shook my head, he was right, of course, but still … I had been starting to like him a lot – and now? His mysterious aura was what attracted me to him in the first way… But now?

He had been accused of having killed three women right after or even during having sex with them. Cruel, rough fetish-sex. The women had been tied up – wrists and ankles – eyes covered with a silk scarf, dressed in latex ‘dessous’.

His defense was brilliant. They couldn’t prove anything, but that he probably was the last one to see them alive. He had had photo sessions with them. For a magazine. And only two days after their sessions they had been found dead – in hotel rooms.

He admitted right away that he had known them and had cooperated freely, gave the detectives all access to his studio and home. But they found nothing that would prove his guilt. The jury voted not guilty and he was free.

I took a deep breath and looked up at him. He was still waiting for a response.

“Trust, Robert. Do you know what that is?” I was disappointed. I really had thought he and I could be … could have something special.

“And you? Do you?” he asked bitterly. “I was innocent, Samantha. I had nothing to do with the death of those women.”

“I need to go.” I turned to open the car door and felt his hand tight around my wrist. “Let me go, Robert.”

His grip loosened and I stumbled out of the car and ran towards the house.

~*~

He called twice, at the hospital and at home. But both times I got them to say I wasn’t there. Two weeks later, on a day off, the doorbell rang and when I answered the door I found a bouquet of creamy roses and an envelope lying on the doorstep. I ran downstairs to see if he was there somewhere, or the delivery boy. But nothing.

I took both into the apartment and after I’d put the roses in a vase I sat down, the envelope in my hands, looking at it for the longest time.

The envelope contained copies of articles and even court-reports from the trial. All the evidence against and for him. Alibi, witnesses – everything. No letter, no comment, however.

I read the whole thing. All the reports, every single article. I found out that he was acquitted basically because the evidence against him was not strong enough to charge him and not because his defense. But you know all that probably better than I do.

~*~

Samantha looks up at detective Simmons who nods and encourages her to go on.

She pours herself some more water and drinks before she starts again.

~*~

I had to make a decision. Trust him, that he was innocent. Prove that I knew what it meant to trust someone. Or forget him; delete every memory of him from my mind, from my life.  But could water be turned into wine?

Two days later I called him and we met during my lunch break.

“And what changed your mind, Samantha?” he asked as soon as we had shaken hands.

“I read the reports you sent me, the reports of the trial. And thank you for the roses.” I really wanted it to work between us, but the look he gave me … “What?”

“I didn’t send you any reports, Samantha.”

I’d never seen that look on him before. Suspicious, fierce.

“But if you didn’t … who did then?”

His face relaxed and a small smile played around the corners of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Whoever it was, I should thank him – or her.” He reached for my hand and took it in both of his. “For giving me the chance to see you again.”

He didn’t pursue the matter of who sent the information to me, and so I didn’t either and we spent a nice one hour together before I had to return to my shift.

Before we parted Robert asked me for another date the next evening I was free and if I could bring the files that I thought were from him.

Thursday was my first evening off and we agreed that he would pick me up and we’d find us a nice restaurant and then see where the evening would take us.

Mickey was still suspicious of Robert and he let me know it. But I didn’t want to argue with him. This was my life and I had enough of being told what to do. I love Mickey, but watching TV every night together with your gay friend is not what a straight woman is longing for.

I had put all the reports and pictures back in the same envelope they had been in and grabbed it together with my purse when the doorbell rang.

“Bye Mickey! I don’t think I’ll be too long, but don’t wait on me, okay?” I said my goodbye and opened the door.

“Be careful, Sam!” Mickey called after me and I gave him a look, but the true concern in his face stopped me from saying what I actually wanted to reply. Instead I told him I would and finally left.

Robert studied the reports and pictures seemingly unaffected. I saw him flinch just once, but he covered that reaction pretty quickly. After a long while he put the stack of paper back into the envelope and waved to the waitress to order a scotch.

“And you really don’t know who sent this to you?”

I shook my head, “No. I really thought you did.”

“These articles are out in the world, but the reports shouldn’t be out in public…” his voice sounded pensive and he handed me the envelope back. “I’d like to show you something.”

He looked into my eyes intensely and held my hand.

I nodded and when he settled the bill I went to the ladies’ to refresh – but more to contemplate on his reaction to the files. I looked in the mirror talking to myself, what was happening to me. His hand on mine had given me the chills – but the good kind, you know?

Half an hour later we were at his house. It was an old three story warehouse of on Miner’s Ave. But you know that already… Anyway. It was the first time that he took me there.

“This is my home and my studio,” he explained as he opened the huge door and led me inside.  “Do you trust me?”

I looked at him not sure what to say. Did I trust him? I didn’t know him for long and our … friendship? Relationship? Whatever you want to call it had started out with a lie, or not telling the truth.

“I don’t know.” I decided to go with the truth. “Can I trust you?”

A smirk curled his lips as he replied, “Reckon you’ll find out soon enough, if ya give it a fair go.”

A fair go. Was I ready for it? I’ve never been much of a player or adventurer. Although, I never completely stayed on the safe side, you know, calculated risks…

His voice vibrated in my core, his intense ocean green eyes pierced my soul. I could try to trust him, right?

“Come with me.” He simply said and took my hand and I followed him.

I followed him against all I was feeling inside, against all the fear in me.

He led me upstairs to the living area of his place. It was just as I had imagined. Some modern pieces tastefully mixed with real antique furniture, interesting light design. It felt mysterious and comfortable at the same time. He pushed some buttons on a table next to the door and soft music filled the air. It was a perfectly romantic atmosphere he had created – and it worked.

He beckoned me to sit down onto his sofa, the center of his main room, and went to the kitchenette to make some coffee. It was a luxurious kitchenette, albeit small, but equipped with the most important technique, separated from the main room only by a counter.

He came back to me with a tray with two cups of coffee, a bottle of cognac and two glasses. He put down the tray and handed me a cup before he took the other and sat down at one side of the sofa, one leg leisurely curled under him so he was facing me.

“What if it was true?” He looked at me defiantly. “What if I did have something to do with the death of those women? What if I had killed them?”

You’ll understand that this took me by surprise. Was he playing a game? Was he testing me? Or did he lie to me again and he WAS a murderer?

I sipped my coffee, taking my time to answer.

His eyes pierced right through me; his look went right into my soul. He was a man of the extreme. I felt that then, and I would find out for sure not a long time later.

“What do you mean, Robert?” I decided to go on the offense. “Would I have treated you like I did in the hospital? – Yes. Would I have accepted your first invitation to take me out? – Most likely not. Would I have met you tonight? – Surely not.” I withstood his intense glare. “But I’m here now. I’m here because I want to trust you. I’m here because I want to get to know you.”

I put my cup down onto the coffee table and mirrored his position on the sofa. “You are an interesting man, Robert Hays, and extremely attractive. And then look at me… I’m average, if at all. What does a man like you see in a woman like me? Why would a man like you pay any attention to a woman like me? If you really were the murderer of those women, I would be safe anyway. I don’t fit in the pattern of your prey.”

“Nonsense!” He exclaimed and stood. “You think me attractive? You think yourself average? Have you ever looked into a mirror, Samantha?” He hovered over me. His look was almost … angry, scary somehow.

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist in a vise grip and he pulled me up and dragged me behind him to a bedroom. It wasn’t his bedroom, you know. It seemed untouched, not used. There was a huge mirror on the wall opposite the walk-in closet. The bed in the middle of the room was big enough for two, but not king size…

He positioned me in front of the mirror, staying behind me, his hands lightly resting on my shoulders.

“Look at you, Sam. Your face is perfect, your complexion flawless.” He brushed my hair behind my ear and back from my neck. His lips were so close to my ear, they almost touched my skin, like his fingers did, soft and light. “Your skin is so soft.” I could feel his hot breath caressing my skin and closed my eyes. His hand on my neck, a second ago so tenderly touching me gripped me tight and my eyes shot open again. His voice, although it still was soft somehow took on a commanding, brisk tone. An incredible mix. “Look at you!”

~*~

She takes a deep breath and stops talking, her eyes closed.

“Do you need a break, Samantha?” Detective Simmons asks her.

She looks up and nods a thankful smile on her lips.

“We can stop for today and you can come back tomorrow or whenever it suits you. As long as we get your statement…”

“No, it’s okay.” Samantha’s voice sounds tired, exhausted. “I want this done and over with as soon as possible. Would one hour be alright?”

“Sure.” Detective Simmons sees her to the door and to the exit and after she makes sure that Samantha is okay she goes to her office and flicks through the files.

Robert Hays. She had not been promoted when this case arose. And she was not stationed in this town. But of course she followed the investigations and media reports, like everyone did. ‘The model murderer’, the press had labeled him. The public was split in two. One side believed him, Robert Hays, star photographer, that he had nothing to do with the death of the three models. The other side thought him guilty of the murder and nothing and no one could change their minds. But in court, the jury consisted of those who believed him. And the public prosecutor had not enough evidence against him. So he was granted full discharge by the court.

Samantha goes to a small park near the police headquarters and sits down on a secluded bench. Her thoughts are still circling around that first time in his house.

~*~

He had started to unbutton her blouse, all the time telling her how beautiful she was. How perfect her breasts were. Her rosy nipples stood at attention for him, his hands moved along her with only the lightest touch to her skin.

Her belly, not as flat as she would have wished for, but he didn’t seem to mind, flinched when his hand moved lower, aiming for the waistband of her trousers, slipping beneath it with just his fingertips.

Every time her eyes closed, he tightened his grip on her neck, not exactly hurting her, but startling her so she opened her eyes again and watched them in the mirror.

“I want you, Sam. I want you so much.”

His voice a hoarse whisper in her ear and when she closed her eyes this time he didn’t make her open them. Instead he softly turned her around to face him and his mouth was searching hers, found it and claimed it for his in a breathtaking passionate kiss, she had never before experienced.

“Yes,” she sighed and that was enough encouragement for him.

They didn’t waste any time getting rid of their clothes, but they took their time exploring each other once they were naked.

She was perfect to him, not skinny like most of the models he’d taken photos of. Slim, well shaped in perfect proportions. Her skin was so soft, like silk. As was her hair. Full lips demanded to be kissed. Her features like an angel’s. And she thought herself average?

His touches and kisses sent sparkles to every single nerve in her body as he examined her head to toe and back up. And when it was her turn her touches and kisses did the same to him.

His body was muscular, soft skin taught over firm muscles, just the right amount of chest hair, traveling down to his flat abdomen and thickening in the lower regions. His cock was more than impressive in its already erect state, inviting her to taste him.

A strangled moan escaped his throat as her tongue slid up his length, circled his head and dipped softly in that small slit where the first pearl of precum was waiting for her.

He held back as long as he could, enjoying her ministrations, her lips tight around him, her tongue teasing him.

“Need inside you, Sam,” he said hoarsely and pulled her up on top of him until she straddled his middle, rubbing her wet opening against him.

The feel of him stretching her walls, filling her completely, made her hold her breath. He fit perfectly, the friction his thick cock caused inside her was almost too much to bear, but it was also too good to stop.

Slow powerful thrusts, his hands on her hips keeping her still, he drove her to a first shuddering climax that almost took him over, but he didn’t want to, not yet, not yet. He wanted it to last, wanted to relish in her soft noises, her small cries; wanted to feel her body move with his in sync.

When they came together then they were one – a perfect match.

They lay for a while in silence, catching their breaths, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. Her breathing told him she had fallen asleep and he softly kissed her forehead. He lifted his left arm to rest his head on it, and lay awake for hours until the morning dawn bathed the room in a diffuse twilight.

~*~

The roaring engine of a bike racing along the nearby street startles Sam out of her daydream. She blinks and a single tear trickles down her cheek. She wipes it away and takes a deep breath. Time to get back to the police station.

“Samantha, are you sure you can continue?” Detective Simmons sounds concerned.

Samantha looks pale and tired after the break, but she insists on bringing this to an end.

“Officer, could you bring us some sandwiches, please.”

The cop nods and closes the door behind him just to return a few minutes later with a tray of sandwiches and two more bottles of water and two mugs of coffee.

“Thank you, officer.” Detective Simmons turns back to Samantha. “You should eat something.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Sam’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “Can we go on?”

“Of course, Samantha. Whenever you’re ready.” Detective Simmons starts the recorder.

Sam clears her throat and starts talking again, in a low but clear voice…

~*~

I woke the next morning in an empty bed, his side still warm. I called out for him, but he didn’t answer.

I got up and dressed and the smell of fresh brewed coffee led me to the kitchenette and I poured myself a mug and strolled through the rooms.

His living area was neat, clean, but still comfortable. Now in the daylight I could see how spacious it really was. The bedroom we had spent the night in was only one of three other rooms separated by self-built walls. There was a second bedroom, an office and a bathroom with tub and shower. And the huge main room with the open kitchenette.

Robert was nowhere to be seen and I walked downstairs to where his studio was. I passed a room with the door a crack open and peered in. It was his darkroom and there were some photos hanging on a line to dry. Photos of women in leather and chains, looking distressed, shocked, panicked. But the pictures were as beautiful as they were disturbing.

After a few minutes I continued my ‘exploration’ and passed another room, no door, just a curtain. Behind the curtain was the room where Robert had taken the photos I had seen in his darkroom. A camera on a tripod was positioned before a brass bed. Dark red walls matched the dark red linen on the bed. Leather ties, chains and some other things were spread all over the sheets.

I was looking through the camera when I heard him.

“What are you doing here?”

The anger in his voice startled me and I almost dropped my mug when I turned around.

“I … was looking for you and… I didn’t want to intrude, I’m sorry.”

The look in his eyes softened and he stroked my upper arm with the back of his fingers.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not used to having company… and such beautiful company at that.” His voice was again that soft velvet. “Come, I’ve brought breakfast.”

We spent a wonderful day together. After breakfast we went to the nearby park. It was a beautiful early autumn’s day. Still warm enough to walk without a jacket, but too cold for short sleeved shirts. Clear, perfect air.

At one point I noticed my hand lay in his. I couldn’t remember when that had happened, but it felt right, good. We found a small Italian restaurant and sat down for lunch on their open air terrace. We sat and ate and talked until the sun hid behind the trees almost completely and the air cooled down just so to give us the chills when it rounded the corner and reached our table.

“When do you need to go back to the hospital?” Robert asked me, holding my hands in one of his large ones and my eyes with his incredible gaze.

“Tomorrow. I have the night shift.”

A smile hushed over his face and his eyes lit up. “Stay one more night with me?” His eyes mirrored the plea in his voice. “I can take you in. I’ve got an appointment near the hospital tomorrow night.”

And I said yes. I didn’t have any plans for the next day other than relax before my shift, and although I knew that Robert didn’t have relaxing in mind I knew that spending the day with him would do me good. So on our way back to his place I called Mickey to tell him that I was alright and that I was going to stay another night and not come back until after my next shift.

Mickey was not very pleased to hear that, but he was relieved that I was alive and alright. He did not say it but his tone spoke volumes.

On our walk back he told me about his time in prison on remand before the charges against him had been dropped. He told about those few weeks as if he had been an observer; emotionless, matter of fact. But the expression in his face, in his eyes, showed how much that time had affected him.

Back at his place he showed me around his studio, showed me the room in red and two other rooms in different designs. One looked like a play room with children’s toys and bright colors; the other was a plain studio with different screens and backgrounds, spotlights, boxes and several sorts of equipment to create surroundings for a shoot.

The tour didn’t last long and eventually we were back upstairs and not long after that we found ourselves enjoying each other, again…

~*~

“You don’t need to go into detail, Samantha.” Detective Simmons interrupts her. “It isn’t necessary for the investigation at this point.”

“Yes I do, detective. You need to know and then you’ll understand.” Sam turns to the young detective when she says the latter.

“We can stop the tape then, if you want us to,” Detective Simmons offers.

“No, it’s all right.”

Sam drinks some more of her water and then continues her tale.

~*~

I had picked a silk scarf from the red room when Robert had given me the tour and as we undressed I had put it onto the bed. We stood facing each other, bared to each other and I took it and… and blindfolded myself with it.

I don’t know why I did it and right before I covered my eyes I could see confusion flicker in his eyes, and something else I couldn’t quite figure, something dangerous.

I let my arms down and exposed myself to him, bare, vulnerable. He… he didn’t touch me for what felt like eternity, and when he did I gasped and almost jumped.

His hand stroked my cheek and moved lower to my neck and suddenly closed around my throat. He didn’t strangle me, but it was enough to scare me. I tried not to show it, but I’m sure I failed miserably.

He pulled me to him, roughly and kissed me hard, his hand still around my neck, his thumb pressing against my throat.

I struggled to breathe and felt panic arise in me when he released me from the kiss and loosened his grip around my neck.

“Is that what you want?” His voice sounded dangerously low.

I gasped for air and tried to respond. But before I could say anything he had pushed me onto the bed and pinned me beneath him. He fixed both my hands with one of his above my head and forced my legs open with his knee.

“Robert, I…” I started but he ignored me.

“Like it rough, don’t ya?” he said and settled between my legs and … and entered me roughly with a sudden movement.

I let out a small cry and gasped and immediately he stopped, let go of my hands and kissed me, softly this time.

“I’m sorry, luv,” he whispered and continued kissing me.

He didn’t take my blindfold off though, but his hands and mouth were all over me now, tenderly kissing, nibbling and caressing, giving me utmost pleasure and when he entered me this time I was ready for him.

~*~

Sam looks up into the young detective’s face.

“He would never have hurt me or any other woman or man!” she says calmly and takes another sip of her drink.

~*~

I knew it then, and I know now, that he really was innocent of the murder of those girls. But that didn’t stop me from doubting, only two days later.

Robert had picked me up from work very early in the morning. I was really happy to see him and so I obviously didn’t notice his distress right away.

On the way to his place I asked him how his appointment went, but he just gave short answers. Of course I wondered why he was up and awake at that early hour, but when I asked him he mumbled something like: “Nightshift,” and gave me a small smile.

That’s when I saw the bruise on his cheekbone.

“Robert! What happened? Were you in a fight? Are you hurt?” I was worried and would have examined him right there in his car if he hadn’t been driving.

“It’s okay, Sam. I’m alright. Really.” He waved my concern off. “I just need a shower, with you?”

He had asked me, he really had asked me if I’d take a shower with him.

Something must have happened, something must have gone really wrong.

We never made it into his house.

“Mr Hays? Detective Masters. You’re under arrest. Will you follow me?”

Robert turned to the Detective and nodded. “Just a tic, okay?”

“Robert, what…?” I asked but he silenced me with a kiss.

“It’s alright, luv. I’ll be fine. I’ll be back before you know it.”

There was so much confidence in his voice that I believed him. I watched him drive away in the police car and then called a taxi to take me home.

There’s a news stand at the corner 23^rd and a fat headline caught my eyes:

MODEL MURDERER BACK?

And below a picture of Robert Hays of how he was led into the police headquarters those many years ago.

I bought the newspaper and read the article. It said that they had found two young women, dead. Dressed in leather and their faces covered with silk scarves.

One had been dead for a few days already and the other had been murdered just the night before in an apartment near the hospital.

I barely made it into my apartment before I collapsed on the floor, trembling violently, feeling sick.

“Sam! What happened? Are you okay? Sam?” Mickey’s voice was concerned and urgent.

He squatted down at my side and pulled me into his arms.

“They arrested him, Mickey,” was all I could manage to get out.

Mickey noticed the paper on the floor and picked it up, reading the headlines. His grip around me tightened a bit and I felt him stiffen.

I wound myself out of his arms and looked up at him. “You think it’s been him, don’t you?” Mickey nodded. “You don’t know him, Mickey. He is no killer!”

I stood up and went into my room, locked the door behind me. I needed to be alone.

And I needed my sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. My thoughts raced around the past days we had spent together.

Yes, Robert had scared me. But was he really able to murder someone? I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it.

A knock at my door woke me from a light, fitful slumber.

“Sam? A Mr. Jackson is here. He says he’s Mr Hays’ lawyer.”

I looked down at myself. I was still in my clothes and needed a shower. But for now a quick change of clothes had to do.

I opened the door a crack. “Can I have 5 minutes?”

A steaming mug of coffee was waiting for me and Mr. Jackson.

“I’m sorry.” I held out my hand and he took it. “Samantha Jacobs. How can I help… you?” I avoided asking how I could help Robert before I knew what he wanted from me.

“Larry Jackson. I’m Robert Hays’ lawyer.” He introduced himself and handed me a business card. “Miss Jacobs. I’m here to agree our strategy for Robert’s defense. Have you been interviewed by the police yet?”

I shook my head. “No, I … it just happened. They didn’t seem to be interested in me.” In hindsight that seemed odd to me and Mr. Jackson thought so too.

“Very well, then. I don’t want you to tell them that you already spoke to me. Can you give me a summation of the last few days with Robert?”

So I told him what he wanted to know and I was glad that Mickey left us alone. I didn’t want him to hear any details that Mr. Jackson might have needed to know.

“Miss Jacobs. I want you to tell the police everything you told me. And I would like you to testify in court. Can you confirm the exact times when you last saw Robert and when he picked you up? We need to show them that Robert didn’t have enough time to kill that woman.”

“I didn’t look at my watch, but he dropped me off at the hospital with enough time to spare before my shift started. Maybe 9.30 pm. My shift ends at 6 am. Actually I was on time and he was already there. I don’t know how long, though.”

He wrote the times down and seemed to calculate. “That’ll have to do for the moment. Thank you, Miss Jacobs. Would you please call me when you have talked to the police?”

I really wasn’t sure if I liked Mr. Jackson. Of course I wanted Robert free, but not at all costs. I mean…

About one hour after Mr. Jackson had left the police came. Detective Masters with two officers. I was tired and worried and Mickey had been pestering me the whole time. So I agreed gladly to accompany Detective Masters to his office.

As I had agreed with Mr. Jackson I told them everything I knew, just like I had told him.

Back home I fell into bed and finally slept – and almost missed getting up in time to go to the hospital.

Three months later was the trial and I went to testify. The prosecutor managed to twist my words and although I couldn’t really confirm it, I shortened the time frame that defined the time between Robert dropping me off and picking me up again.

That was the first time I saw Robert, because being a witness I wasn’t allowed to see him before I made my statement in court. At least that’s what Mr. Jackson told me.

I tried to get close to him after the hearing, tried to get a minute or two. But it was not possible.

I didn’t hear from Robert for the next four or five weeks. I knew from the press that he was granted a full discharge by the court. But that was all.

I tried to call Mr. Jackson, but he wouldn’t talk to me. One day I just went to his office and forced my way inside. I just wanted to know if Robert was all right. But he wouldn’t tell me anything.

I was exhausted and no good at work, so I took my two weeks of vacation and drove up to my dad’s old cottage.

I spent a quiet week up there all alone. The only human and social contact I had was with Jimmy, the delivery boy. He would drop by every evening and I would give him a grocery list when I needed something. And when I didn’t need anything we would talk a bit.

I started to feel better and I started to see my short time with Robert as a nice memory.

Yesterday, I found the backdoor opened.

I thought I had left it open after I gave Jimmy my list and closed it when I heard noises behind me.

Startled, I turned around and there was he, Robert, carrying a tray with food and wine.

“Robert!” I cried out, feeling tears welling up in my eyes.

He put down the tray and walked up to me, cradled me in his arms. “Shh, luv. It’s all right. I’m here now.”

I sought comfort in his arms for a while before I backed away a bit and looked at him. “Where have you been? How did you find me?”

He gave me space, but didn’t remove his hands from my waist. He seemed to hesitate a moment before he spoke. “I needed time, Sam. I’m sorry. I couldn’t call you. I didn’t want you to get into trouble.” Another pause. “Mickey told me where I would find you.”

Mickey. Good old Mickey. So he came to the conclusion that Robert might not be that bad.

~*~

Detective Simmons and her young colleague exchange a look, but Samantha misses it.

Mickey had been attacked the afternoon before and was in hospital; fortunately not seriously injured. Until now they had suspected Robert Hays of the assault.

~*~

“Come here,” he whispered and took my hand, leading me to the sofa. We sat down and he poured us some wine.

He had never been one to beat about the bush, but still I was surprised of his next move.

“You lied for me, Sam. In court. Why did you do that?”

I couldn’t figure out his tone. It was something between thankful and disapproving. Almost accusing. And it made me feel guilty.

“I… I didn’t really lie. I stretched the truth a bit. Isn’t that what lawyers do all the time too?” I tried a defense.

“You’re not a lawyer, luv.” His tone and look made me feel like a little child.

“But no one knew it was… not the truth.”

“I knew. And Larry knew.” His voice and look were stern now and a cold shiver ran up and down my spine.

“What if I WAS the murderer? What if I had killed that last girl? And the others too?”

I didn’t know if he was testing me or if he wanted to scare me. He succeeded with the latter, somehow. But I stood my ground.

“I knew you hadn’t killed her. I just knew. Like I knew that something was wrong when you picked me up from the hospital that day.” I said in a voice that was calmer than I was myself.

He let out an audible breath and leaned his head against the back of the sofa.

“Then you knew more than I did.” He lifted his head back up and looked at me with an uncertainty in his eyes that hurt me. “Sam. That night… when I came to the place where I was supposed to meet that girl… I don’t really remember everything. I remember I rang the doorbell and was let into the house and into the apartment… and the next thing I know is I’m lying on the floor and my head hurts and my face…”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I saw her, Sam. I saw her lying on the bed, dead. I didn’t call the police, I just ran out of the building. I didn’t care if anyone saw me and ended up at the hospital. I could have killed her, Sam.” His voice sounded uncertain and hurt and it broke my heart.

“You’re not a killer, Robert.” I said and kissed him.

“Do you remember the photos you showed me? The ones that were sent to you?” He asked and I nodded. How could I forget that?

“The first ‘victim’. I knew her. I had been with her. It’s, I don’t know, some 15 years ago now. We were both young and wild and … it was an accident. We experimented, she liked those bondage games combined with role playing… We didn’t know she had a cardiac defect... It was an accident.

“I think I became photographer to get rid of the nightmares…”

“Aw, baby. That was long ago.”

He couldn’t answer me because the phone rang and I thought it was Mickey, because he was the only one who knew where I was. The more surprised was I when a male voice asked for Robert. I wasn’t sure if I knew the voice. Something didn’t sound right. Like it was distorted somehow.

“Mr Hays?” I asked and Robert shook his head. “No, he’s not here… No, I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since the trial.”

I was surprised how easy it was to lie.

“Well, Miss Jacobs. Should he contact you, tell him I want to see him. I have important information for him. He will find me in the old boat house at Parker’s lake.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister… Hello?”

He had hung up.

“Who knows that you’re here, Sam?”

Robert’s tone scared me.

“Just Mickey. The hospital has got my cell phone number.”

He drew in a sharp breath and closed his eyes. “What did he say? The man on the phone.”

“He said he wanted to meet you. He had important information… Robert! Don’t go. I have a really bad feeling…” I pleaded.

“Where?”

“Robert,…” I tried one more time but he shot me an eyebrow and asked again.

“Where?”

I told him the place and how he would get there. It’s about 30 minutes by car. He would be back in one hour or a bit longer… or never.

“It’s all right, luv. I’ll be careful. You lock the house after I left and don’t let anyone in, you hear me?”

There was nothing I could say or do to make him stay, so I let him go and did as he had said. I locked the house and waited.

About fifteen minutes after he had left I heard a window clapping upstairs and went to close it. I must have forgotten it.

When I climbed down the stairs again I saw the back of a man looking out of the French door to the patio. It wasn’t Robert, the man was taller and slim.

I let out a gasp and he must have heard it, because he turned around and I could see his face.

“Mr Jackson… how did you come into the house?”

Suddenly I knew… the man on the phone had been Jackson. But why?

“I financed my studies as a guard for a security company. They teach you how to open doors and windows…”

He moved fast and before I could reach the door he grabbed my upper arm hard and held a pistol against the side of my neck.

“Now, now, Samantha. I have you right here where I want you to be.” His voice was croaky and his tone was mean and sent a thousand needles down my spine.

“Where is Robert? What did you do to him?” I was surprised at how calm my voice sounded.

“He should have just arrived at the boathouse, Samantha. You sent him there, remember?”

I shook my head. “No! I didn’t. He wasn’t here! I told you that!” It was my last straw to stick to that and hope beyond hope that he would buy it.

“Shut up!” he yelled at me and backhanded me so hard I stumbled three steps before I fell down.  “He’ll be back just in time, sweetheart, to see you die. And then he will be brought to justice! He will pay for what he’s done.”

Jackson was sweating now and his eyes had a feverishly wild look. I was scared to death and wanted to run, but I couldn’t move… I just couldn’t move…

~*~

Detective Simmons puts a hand over Samantha’s and offers her some water. Sam looks thankfully at her and takes a few sips.

“Are you alright, Samantha? Do you need a break?”

Detective Simmons is anxious to hear the rest of it. Now comes the part she does not know for certain yet. But Sam looks as if she will break any minute.

“I’m okay,” she says and breathes deeply and continues.

~*~

“Get up!” he ordered and I did as I was told.

I was shaking like a leaf and had to hold onto the chest of drawers to keep myself upright. Terrified, I watched as he slid his hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled it back out with something black in it. He tossed it over to me, it was a leather corset.

“Put it on!”

I knew I had no choice. I could only try to save time and hope that Robert would come back soon. I didn’t even have to pretend to be unable to move faster. My legs and hands were shaking so hard I had difficulties to undo the fly of my jeans and step out of them. The same with the buttons of my shirt.

Impatiently he came towards me and pulled roughly at my shirt so the buttons came flying off it and I stood exposed before him. His hand closed itself around my breast.

“Don’t, please!” I pleaded with a shaky voice.

“Put it on!” he ordered again, emphasizing every single word with an ice cold voice.

I had a hard time to get the garment on and his impatience was growing as was his nervousness. He had his pistol pointed at me, but his eyes wandered over to the French windows every now and then.

I finally managed to get dressed in the leather corset and sent silent prayers that Robert would not come back, that Jimmy would bring my groceries and see I needed help and call the police. I had the indistinct feeling that as long as Robert was not here, I was in no immediate danger of losing my life.

~*~

Samantha stops and looks up at Detective Simmons.

“Did he? Jimmy? Did he call you?”

Detective Simmons is shaking her head. She was the one who took the call. “No, Samantha. It was Mr Hays.”

Samantha smiles. Yes, he would do that.

~*~

“Detective Simmons. This is Robert Hays. Someone’s in danger. Come to the old cottage at, uh, Holme’s Lake. I’ll be there too.”

His voice held an urgent tone, and before she could answer him, get more information, he had hung up.

It did not take Detective Simmons long to have a squad on the road to the old cottage. She knew it well, had passed it several times on her way to the office before she had moved into town.

Even though they raced at breakneck speed to the house they were too late.

~*~

I saw his silhouette seconds before he tapped against the window. Did he know it was a trap?

Of course Jackson had heard the tap too. He grabbed my arm painfully and dragged me in front of him and walked up to the French windows. Holding me with one hand at my throat and pointing his pistol at my temple he made me open the windows for Robert.

“You’re late,” he growled to Robert who stepped in carefully.

“Let her go, Larry. It’s me you want.” Robert’s voice was calm.

But Larry obviously had different plans. He pointed his pistol at Robert. His grip around my throat tightened slightly.

“Move,” he ordered and waved his pistol towards the stairs.

His pistol in Robert’s back and his hand still around my throat we walked upstairs and into the master bedroom. The room where he had climbed in through the window.

There’s an old bed with iron bars in the middle of the room. There were leather ties on the blanket.

He moved his pistol to the back of Robert's head and then pushed me onto the bed.

“Tie her to the bars.”

A dangerous light flickered in Robert’s eyes. I was scared to death but as I expected the worst already I made a decision. If I’d do what Jackson wanted, maybe I would have a quick death.

I crawled up towards the headboard and wrapped my fingers around the bars. My eyes locked with Robert’s, pleading with him not to do something stupid.

Jackson gave him a push and he turned around so fast, his eyes shooting darts of fire.

“Robert!”

I gasped. Jackson had his pistol pointed between Robert’s eyes.

“Tie her!”

Robert turned around slowly and looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry, luv,” he whispered and tied my hands to the bars. He made a bit of a show with it so it looked as if he was tying me tightly, but I could feel he did his best to not make me feel too uncomfortable.

Luckily Jackson didn’t notice it. Or maybe it would have been better if he’d noticed.

“Whatever happens, Sam. I want you to know that I love you. Stay alive, Sam. Stay alive for me.”

“Enough!” Jackson’ voice cut through the air and Robert stood and gave him a defiant look.

“Why are you doing this, Larry?” he asked in a voice that was calm and threatening at the same time.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Jackson’ voice sounded disgusted and amused at the same time. “Laura Bowles was my sister. And you killed her.”

Although Robert had his back to me I could see him flinch at the sound of her name. Laura Bowles… that was the first dead girl. So she had been married…? But she was so young.

“Larry B. Jackson… How…?” Robert had the same thought I had.

“That’s easy, Hays. I took my wife’s name when we got married. Left the B in. It looks better on a business card.”

Robert fought an inner fight and that was exactly what Jackson wanted.

“I didn’t kill your sister. It was an accident. She was sick. She had a cardiac defect. She wanted to play those games.” Robert’s voice had lost a bit of its calmness.

“Shut up!” Jackson yelled and backhanded Robert with the hand that held the pistol. He hit him hard against the temple and Robert stumbled backwards and fell against the nightstand and lay still. “Not exactly how I wanted it, but good enough.” Jackson muttered and climbed onto the bed.

I tried to fight him, kick him with my legs, but in his state he had developed inhuman strength. He straddled me and shoved the pistol into his coat and his hand came back out holding a silk scarf.

“The blindfold is not for the victim, it is so the murderer cannot see their fear.” His voice was so low I could barely hear him.

After he had blindfolded me I felt him shift his weight and his hands were busy.

He had been putting on gloves as I learned only seconds later when his hands moved around my neck and he started to press, started to strangle me.

I tried my best to fight him, tried to get my hands loose. My vision blurred and I felt myself drift off slowly.

The next thing I remember is that I gasped for air and my hands were loose. There was no weight on me anymore, and I could hear noises, groans, as if someone was fighting. Then there was a thump and the pounding of feet running down the stairs.

I scrambled myself up into a sitting position and opened my eyes to see Robert stumbling towards the door and the stairs.

“Let him go, Robert.” I tried to speak but nothing but a croak came out of my throat and Robert disappeared through the door.

I followed him as fast as I could and saw that Jackson was outside and pointing his pistol at Robert and then… I heard to shots and then Robert fell… and Jackson too…

~*~

Her voice fails her and Detective Simmons motions her head towards the officer and the young detective to leave her alone.

The rest of the story is well known to her.

The squad had arrived just in time to see how Robert Hays tried to calm Larry Jackson.

They went into action immediately. Sharp shooters went in position, Detective Simmons and her young colleague stayed behind their police car. Simmons had the megaphone and spoke.

“Police! Lower your gun! Keep your hands up and follow instructions.”

Jackson didn’t even flinch or look.

“Lower your gun or we will shoot!”

And then came a shot and Robert Hays swayed and fell, struck down by the bullet. And instantly after the first, there was a second shot and down went Jackson.

The paramedics at hand could only declare the death of both men.

THE END

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