Chapter 17

Walt entered the kitchen and looked at me appraisingly. “You okay? I heard you were next door, staring off into space.” I could hear in his voice that he was concerned.

“So much weird shit happening today, but mainly I’ve been worried because one of the rescued girls did everything but proposition me in front of one of the shrinks and my girls. Chloe and Marisa told me not to worry about it, they all understood, so I’m fine,” I answered.

“I can’t keep one woman happy,” he chuckled. “While I’m jealous that you have four gorgeous babes, you couldn’t pay me enough to step into your shoes,” he laughed as he slapped me on the back.

“Oh, speaking of paying, this was beneath whatever was in the safe,” I said as I pulled the bag back out of my pocket.

“Can you cram those into your safe?” he laughed as he handed the bag back after glancing inside. Cram was the operative word, because that’s just what I had to do. Like an overfilled suitcase, I had to use my weight to close the door enough that I could turn the handle to latch it and then spin the dial. I hoped I’d be able to open it again.

More people had arrived at the front door, which wasn’t an unusual event today. More Marshals and more agents from ATF and DEA were there. I even saw FBI and HSA windbreakers. The new agents would go into the study to report on their just-completed assignment or to get an assignment. I definitely didn’t envy Walt and whoever else was in there with him trying to coordinate five different federal agencies and what looked like more than sixty agents by now. That didn’t even count the military guys who had loaded their package into the shielded armored car and driven off a few minutes ago.

The latest group through the front door were women who worked at the farm and were wives of the men who worked here. They had evidently just finished a trip to the grocery store and were leading a procession of federal agents and my employees carrying bags of groceries and cases of soda and beer.

Jan found me and took me aside again. “You didn’t say one way or the other about letting the girls stay here for now, so I told them they could. One of the shrinks will stay here for at least a week in case they need to talk. The doctors are finished and say the girls are in good physical shape considering what they endured. A couple of them are underweight but should get enough food here to start putting some weight back on. So far, they have been extremely lucky. None of the girls tested pregnant, probably because each of them had received an implant. In addition, all the tests so far for STDs have come back negative. Results of the last tests won’t be back until tomorrow, though. We managed to get all the girls dressed, although a couple of them really don’t need bras.

“They were upset about it because they hoped to let you see and maybe even play with their breasts,” Jan said, grinning.

“What?” I gasped.

“Look at it from their perspective, Jim,” she admonished gently. “You found them, didn’t take advantage of them, came back leading the team to rescue them. You remembered to bring T-shirts for them to wear to cover their nudity, and then, as they see it, almost singlehandedly killed or captured all the men who had held them prisoner. Every one of those girls has a serious case of hero fever, and there’s only one type of injection to help with that fever.

“And then, fending off Cheryl’s advances instead of taking them as your due has made those girls even crazier about you. I honestly don’t think that you’ll escape without at least some of them having their way with you, and possibly all of them,” she warned.

“None of you will be upset if they do?” I asked, remembering the discussion with Chloe and Marisa.

“Jim, none of us would be upset if you had sex with all nine of them--unless it left you too tired to do us, too,” she chuckled.

“But I don’t want them to feel that they owe it to me,” I protested.

“Have you ever seen a woman who gave you a hard-on when you saw her?” she asked.

“Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?” I answered.

“The girls don’t feel obligated to have sex with you. They want to. You make them so wet they have to stuff toilet paper in their underwear,” she explained, almost sounding exasperated that she had to explain things to me.

I was saved when the doorbell rang again. This time it was a group of ten FBI agents. “Evidence room?” the lead agent asked, carrying two banker’s boxes. I pointed to the designated command room/study. The agents following him had stacks of boxes they were wheeling in, loaded onto two-wheeled dollies.

I discovered something useful to do, so I found one of the locking doorknobs I had bought to replace the ones currently on the house.

Walt and an FBI agent were looking around the command room for a place to put the new batch of boxes when I entered the room. I pointed to the door of a large storage closet, and then tossed Walt one of the four keys to the new lock. Ten minutes later, we had a locking evidence room, and I gave Walt the other three keys.

“I’m not sure I could be quite so hospitable if my home were invaded like this,” Walt laughed.

“It’s a huge house and we just moved in, so we haven’t filled the place up with junk yet,” I replied.

“Those boxes are records and videos from the house where Shirley--or Cheryl, or something like that--lived. They went to arrest her father, but he refused to surrender,” he said, using his fingers to pantomime firing a gun to his head.

“They found the girl’s mother and sister locked in their rooms. The sister should be okay, someday, but they’re worried about the mother’s mental state. She’s been putting up with the abuse herself, as well as being made to watch her daughters being abused and raped for years,” he said, shaking his head.

“Anyway, the agents need to go through the videos they took of the rapes to see if they can identify more people who participated. We have arrested fifteen already,” he sighed.

“Oh, and the mother and sister are on their way here. The doctors will check them out and turn them over to the therapists, so you’ll have two more guests,” he advised.

“What’s two more?” I replied, motioning around with my arm to the unseen dozens of people we knew were in the house, outside, or still next-door.

“Definitely more hospitable,” Walt snickered before busying himself on the computer again.

I made my way upstairs carefully, almost as carefully as I’d approached the cellar door earlier today. When I found one of the therapists, I asked if Cheryl was around. They pointed back downstairs to my bedroom so I knocked on the slightly open door. I found her in the midst of what looked like a gathering of the Playmates of the Year on my bed. When she saw me, I told her that her mother and sister would be here soon.

Squealing excitedly, she ran to me and hugged me tightly, bouncing excitedly. When she noticed my reaction, she stopped. “Sorry,” she said, then purposely rubbed once more against the prominent lump in the front of my pants.

“No, I’m not,” she laughed as she rubbed against me, reaching up to give me a quick kiss. “Your spousal equivalents have explained to us that you don’t expect or want to be rewarded for what you did for us. Whether or not I agree with them, I promised that I wouldn’t reward you,” she said.

“I do, however, expect to find myself in your bed, under you, simply because you make me melt when I’m near you,” she growled seductively. She was still growling when her lips mashed against mine.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I offered when she let me come back up for air. “Once all of your tests for STDs come back negative, and the doctors and therapists approve, and after you have spoken privately with each of my spousal equivalents and gotten their permission, have Jan schedule it.” I could tell that I was fighting a losing battle. If they wanted me, and my spousal equivalents, as Cheryl called them, didn’t care, and it wasn’t going to hurt them physically or emotionally, who was I to argue? At least I made it as difficult as I could for them.

“Deal,” she replied confidently. “Do the others get the same deal?” she asked.

“If they’re legal,” I answered, making sure to cover myself so I didn’t end up being busted for having sex with a minor. I already knew that some of the girls were still in junior high school. My heart went out to them, knowing that they had a lot of shit to deal with now, and I hoped they would someday be able to have something approaching a normal life.

Still attached at my hip, Cheryl went downstairs with me to wait for her mother and sister. “Did they arrest Dad?” she asked nervously.

“They tried,” I replied.

“I hope the bastard bled to death slowly and painfully,” she hissed, then hugged me again, this time crying into my chest.

I was still standing there consoling her when the front door opened and four more FBI agents entered. The woman and girl with them looked shell-shocked, but the family resemblance was easy to spot. “They’re here,” I told Cheryl. She was out of my arms and across the room to hug her mother and sister so fast that the agents didn’t have time to react. The trio stood, hugging and sobbing for several minutes before one of the agents reminded them that the doctor was waiting for them.

I’d stayed back to allow the three women their reunion. Then Cheryl pulled her mother and sister over and stopped in front of me. “Jim, this is my sister Nicole, and my mother Stella,” she introduced her family. “Mom, Nicole, this is Jim, the owner of this house and the man who found us, and then organized, and led our rescue this morning,” she gushed.

“Thank you,” Stella sobbed emotionally as she grabbed me and took a turn soaking my shirt with her tears. Several seconds later, she collapsed in my arms. I was barely able to catch her, but finally managed to pick her up securely enough to carry her upstairs under the watchful eyes of the FBI agents accompanying them. When we reached the bedroom-turned-medical-office, I laid her gently on an exam table that had miraculously appeared today.

“Don’t go,” she pleaded emotionally when I turned to leave so she could have privacy.

“Ma’am, we need you to remove all of your clothing,” the female doctor warned her.

“I don’t care, please stay,” she begged. Her tears tore me up inside. I can’t say no to a woman who’s crying. I looked to the doctor for help, and she just shrugged.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” I agreed. I at least turned my back. She only let go of my hand long enough to remove her shirt. When she had hugged me the first time, it had been easy to tell that her bounteous breasts weren’t restrained, and I knew where Cheryl got her breasts.

Listening to the private questions the doctor had to ask was embarrassing for me, yet Stella answered matter-of-factly and didn’t seem embarrassed at all. Listening to the answers made me want to find her husband, revive him, and kill him again, over, and over, and over, and over. This time, my own tears soaked my shirt as I endured the recitation of the litany of abuses she had suffered over the years. I had no idea how she had managed to endure. Several times, I had to fight with my stomach to keep it from expelling my lunch.

Stella even insisted that I stay with her while she did the pee in a cup thing. “Are you okay?” the doctor mouthed to me when she saw my face.

“I’m dying, just listening to what she had to endure,” I sighed quietly. The doctor gave me a weak smile of encouragement. I’m sure it had affected her, too, and she had already gone through this with some of the other girls this morning. At least the doctors were both female, which should make it easier on the abused women. Come to think of it, the three therapists were female, too, and nearly every team of agents I saw today included at least one woman. Obviously, someone was thinking about the mental state of the female victims, someone much smarter and more experienced than I was.

That exam was the longest and hardest hour of my life. It made the stress I had felt while waiting in the tunnel this morning seem trivial. It’s one thing to understand the types of things they had to endure, but to hear the woman telling the story, explaining the details, is another thing entirely. I now knew I wasn’t cut out to be a doctor or a shrink, not that there had been any question before this.

I thank God that the therapist talked her out of having me in the room during her therapy session. I’m not sure I could have dealt with it a second time. As it was, I was mobbed and hugged by my SEs (spousal equivalents), as well as the rescued girls. It was suppertime before Stella and her younger daughter, Nicole, reappeared. Two shifts of agents had already eaten supper, leaving mostly family and employees, whom I considered extended family, for the final shift. I could see Stella trying to stay close to me without being overly clingy. I felt bad enough for her that I changed places with Marisa and sat right next to her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a pain,” Stella said emotionally.

“Not to worry, sitting with a beautiful woman at dinner is a hell of a lot more fun than a half hour gun battle,” I told her.

“The therapist told me that you were crying during my exam,” she commented apologetically.

“Compared to what you had to endure, a few tears are nothing. If I helped ease your distress even a tiny bit, it was worth it,” I replied.

She ate the rest of her dinner leaning against my shoulder. I managed to fight back the tears, barely, but several others at the table weren’t as successful.

When Walt found me an hour after dinner, he just rolled his eyes and grinned. I was sitting on the big couch in the formal living room. Stella and Cheryl had me bookended; Nicole was in my lap. The other girls were either on the couch with us or had pulled up parts of the sectional sofa from the opposite wall to make the couch wide enough that many of them were lying down, asleep. My SEs would trade off being in the room every half hour or so, being available if anyone needed anything.

The agents had done a rush job of going through the videos, and running faces through facial recognition software. Warrants for the arrest of fourteen more men had been issued and were being served now. Everything illegal or dangerous from the house next door was gone. They had even used a type of ground penetrating radar to search the floors of the house for more hiding places. I had already found them all. The house still needed to be cleaned and repaired. Broken glass abounded and bloodstains remained. Nearly everything on the ground floor had bullet holes in it. I wasn’t sure if it would be more cost effective to repair the house or to tear it down and start over.

“The Hanley property was seized,” Walt told me. “You just bought it, as is, with a bid for seven million in cash. We took the money out of one of the duffel bags,” he informed me with a gleam in his eye.