Read Online Blind Rage by Terri Persons - Free Book Online Page B

them to get help for their head or health problems, and they refused, or just never got around to it.”
    “The ones who did have contact with a medical professional, was it the same clinic or hospital or whatever? Did the same doctor treat two different girls?”
    “Not all the girls who got help had a doctor’s name or clinic in their file. We’ll have to get family members to cough up some medical info, if they even have it.”
    “Why wouldn’t they?” he asked.
    “Some of these ladies were not on good terms with their folks,” she said.
    “Of the ones that did mention a specific health provider…”
    “None named the same shrink or clinic. I would have picked up on that immediately.” She stopped pacing and turned to look at her office mate. “What if it’s simply someone who favors troubled chicks, chicks who need to be saved, and he’s got a talent for picking them out of a crowd? He talks to a lot of different people. Listens.”
    “A priest?” Creed offered.
    “We’ve got a mix of religions and at least one atheist. Plus college kids aren’t the biggest churchgoers. I think that theory goes out the window.”
    “A bartender?”
    She smiled. “I like how you’re thinking, partner, but not all of them were into the club scene. Plus, he’d have to be a traveling bartender. Remember we’re dealing with drownings in two states.”
    “Whoever he is, he prefers troubled women. Why?”
    “How about because they’re easy to seduce or trick or overpower? Some of them had eating disorders. A lot easier to toss a skinny woman overboard than a chubby chick.”
    “Since we’re on the subject of chubby, come over here and take a look at what I’ve come up with.” He checked his computer’s clock. “You missed lunch, I see, and that’s a good thing.”
    “Forget about lunch,” she said, eyeing the office wall clock. “It’s almost time for dinner.”
    “I’d wait until after the show,” he said, and tapped some keys. “This is not what I’d call good dinner theater.”
    She stood behind him and gawked at what was playing on his screen. A plump blond woman was on her knees on a cement floor, her hands tied behind her back, while a power spray alternated between pummeling her breasts and her face. “Nasty,” said Bernadette.
    “Revolting,” contributed Creed.
    “Do people really get off on this stuff?” she asked.
    “Apparently so,” he said as he called up yet another porn video.
    A color image filled the computer screen. At first the only thing pictured was an outdoor hot tub with steam rising from the surface of the water. In the background were scraggly palm trees.
    “Another fine art-house film from California,” Creed commented.
    A curvaceous brunette wrapped in a towel walked onto the wooden deck surrounding the tub, her back to the camera. She dropped the towel and stepped naked into the water. Turning around, she faced the camera. The cameraman closed in for a tighter shot, eliminating the background and showing the woman lowering herself into the water up to her breasts.
    “Those aren’t real, you know,” said Bernadette.
    “How do you know?”
    “They’re as round and overinflated as a couple of party balloons,” she said. “If you took a pin, you could probably pop them.”
    A nude man stepped into the tub with the woman. He had a big gut and was hairy everywhere except for the top of his head.
    “Now that’s disgusting,” said Creed.
    Bernadette said, “The male leads all look like that, don’t they?”
    “How should I know?”
    The furry fat man stood behind the woman, planted his hands on her shoulders, and dunked her straight down into the water. At first the only activity under the water was the woman’s long hair floating over her head. Then she threw her hands up and waved them frantically, breaking the surface with her splashes.
    “Not yet, baby,” the man croaked to the woman struggling under his grip. He pushed harder and forced her down