Chapter 3

Twenty-four hours did a lot to ease the agony of that long hour in Bondman's seedy office, and Ginny Dennison was far better equipped to deal with the memories rationally than when she had come home alone, her face reddened and streaked with tears, the afternoon before.

Ginny sat up in bed, ashamed of having slept so late; but she excused herself this time--there were plenty of reasons to let her off the hook just this once. Reluctantly, she climbed out from under the blanket, pulling down her nightgown as she stepped painfully on the floor, grimacing as a searing charge of pain shot from between her bruised, tender thighs.

She stepped gingerly to the bathroom, and turned on the faucets for a nice, long hot soak, and sat back to wait for the tub to fill. But the steaming water was so inviting, she decided not to wait, and hastily yanked the nightgown over her head, pulled down her bikini panties, and stepped into the still-shallow bath. She splashed a little on the cold ceramic tub so she could stretch out without touching the chilling surface.

The deepening water seemed to engulf her like an ocean wave, rising higher and higher, easing away her aches and soreness like gallons of liniment. In a few seconds, she caught herself falling asleep, sprawled in the whirling water, really relaxed for the first time since those horrible minutes in Marty Bondman's office.

Also for the first time, she was able to clearly think about what had happened, and more important, what to do about it.

She'd thought about calling the police--about putting that disgusting animal behind bars where he belonged, but it hadn't taken long to get that notion shoved out of her mind. Just a few brief thoughts about detectives, newspaper accounts, courtroom appearances, and most of all, about how she could explain what she was doing in this man's office alone, stripped down to her bare skin--that was all it took to convince her she'd have to forget going to the authorities.

And for another few short moments, right after she'd come in from her nightmare at Marty Bondman's, she'd thought of calling Fred, of the sweet relief that a few minutes of hearing his voice, even from so far away, would offer. But she knew he'd know something was wrong, that he would spot her anguish no matter how well she tried to conceal it. And Ginny knew he mustn't find out, not now at least; not when he was helpless to come to her side. She couldn't allow him to suffer like that--this was something she had to come to grips with alone, without anyone's help.

It wasn't easy, going it alone. All her life she'd had someone else to rely on, someone to lean on whenever problems stood in her way. But this time it was different--there was no one there with a friendly shoulder to cry on.

Daddy had always been around when she lived at home back in Indiana, and with three brothers, she had always been his special favorite. She'd always gone to him when Mother said no, and he'd never been able to turn her down. And even though they had never really been well off, she'd managed to have all the dresses and sweaters and new shoes she could use.

Thinking about Daddy like that always made her sad, and she tried to put those remembrances out of her mind. That cold night in 1967 ended all those warm, sunny days with her father--that dark night she'd spent with her mother and brothers huddled around his hospital bed while he choked through his last few moments on earth, one hand tightly gripped in his wife's, the other in Ginny's.

Fred had come into her life only a few months later, right after she'd graduated from high school. He had been working for the summer at the service station where her family always took their business, and she'd taken a liking to him right from the start.

She remembered it like it was yesterday; the way he looked at her when she took the family car in that sunny June day. He had seemed quite bold, she recalled, not like the boys she'd dated in high school, and a whole lot better looking. So brazen was he, in fact, he asked her for a date before she even knew his name.