Chapter 10

The new year passed uneventfully until August. By that time, Missy was 12 — almost a teenager — and beginning to blossom. She had sprouted again, and by that time was already five feet eight and still growing. To her great delight, when she finally stopped, she was five feet ten and a skosh, just a tiny bit taller than her mother. It might have been a small fraction of an inch, but hearing the way she ragged on her mother about it, one would have thought the difference in height was a matter of feet.

The fact is I found myself wondering about her age. Could she be older than 12? She had been having regular periods beginning just a few months after coming to live with us. And, of course, when she arrived she was suffering from acute malnutrition. And one of the first affects of malnutrition is to shut down menses. Hmm...

However, she was not a happy camper because she was still pretty flat-chested. Marty and I both told her that first, neither of us were particularly well-endowed, but beyond that, tall girls were often slow to develop on top. What we insisted on, though, was that she stand up straight with her shoulders back to highlight what she did have. And what she did have were lovely little nipples that stood up so perky and proud.

JJ and Maria were in the ninth month of their pregnancies and were actually starting to show it. If you can believe it, both of them were having trouble buttoning their Levi’s. It was so bad, they were actually thinking of buying maternity clothes, but quickly rejected the idea. After all, we seldom wore clothes at all, so what the hell...

They were both disappointed because they hoped their tits would grow. Instead, they just remained perfect Bs.

But all in all, I had never seen JJ or Maria as happy as they were, nor their husbands so proud. And the four continued to ride the Harleys with the women wearing their boots with Levi’s short shorts and their jackets. We learned, though, that whenever possible the girls took off their jackets, stuffed them in a saddlebag and rode topless. Of course, all of that was “blamed” on Missy. But strangely believe it, she was not at all contrite.

All she did was to caress their slightly bulging bellies while they bitched about all the additional exercising they had to do to support their by-then milk-heavy breasts without having to wear bras. Missy just commented that both babies were kicking up a storm.

She decided to bail out, though, before things went any further. That being the case, she decided it was a good time to take Prince and Duke for a walk. By then it was about four in the afternoon.

Awhile later, there was a call that Jim answered. I saw his face turn grim and he called for Paul. Then my eyes widened as I saw him check his weapon. “It’s Missy,” he said. “There’s been trouble at the park.”

And off they went.

A few minutes later, there was another call, which I took. Again, it was Jim. “Cathy, there’s a big problem here. A girl has been brutally raped by a gang of young punks. The dogs took care of the rapists, but the girl needs help. I’ve already called 911 for police and an ambulance, but the girl desperately needs some TLC. Can you come down?”

Just then Marty appeared and the two of us jumped in a car and headed out. We arrived at the park before the authorities, but we could hear the sound of oncoming sirens from several different directions.

Reaching the park, we found our family. My eyes widened when I realized that Jim had taken off his shirt and had used it to cover the girl lying on the ground. Both dogs were standing by close to Missy, and only then did I realize they had blood on their jowls. Evidently at least a couple of the rapists had not gotten off scot free.

Before Marty or I had a chance to look more closely at the girl on the ground the area was swarming with blue uniforms. Missy was on her knees beside the girl whispering to her. But when the police arrived, she rose to her feet and asked, “Would you like to find the other rapists? Prince and Duke can find them for you.”

A couple of officers — thankfully including a woman — were on the ground beside the victim while they waited for the ambulance. The remaining officers — I guess there were about six of them — ran off following the dogs. Marty and I stayed with the girl.

You know, that was one time we did the smart thing. It turned out that two of the rapists were already dead — one of the dogs took out their jugular veins — and since there was blood on the jowls of both we never knew which. Two others were on the ground. A dog had severed the Achilles tendon on one and had taken out a big piece of calf muscle from the other. Since there were more than enough officers to take care of things on the ground, the dogs bounded off toward the woods followed by the remaining four officers.

At that point an ambulance roared up; the rear doors popped open and the crew wasted no time getting the young woman ready to roll. Marty and I jumped in the back; the doors were slammed shut and we were rolling. Just then another ambulance rolled up, to take away the wounded attackers, I supposed.

While we were moving, the girl started to thrash on the stretcher on which she was being held down with straps. Marty took her hand and whispered, “Relax, sweetie. You’ll be all right. And the reason we know is that both my mother and I have been rape victims.” At the time, I put down Marty’s comment as just being something to get the girl to relax.

Arriving at the hospital, Marty stayed with the girl who was being rushed into a treatment room. I stayed behind to take care of the paperwork. (Oh, yeah ... Another point I may not have mentioned: Because of Marty’s largesse, both of us were on the hospital’s Board of Directors.) And as a director, I guess things went smoother than might otherwise have been the case.

While the paperwork was being processed, I noticed that camera crews — both still and TV — had arrived and were swarming like bees trying to gain access to the girl.

Someone at police headquarters was really using his or her brain that day. While the camera crews were still setting up, a young woman in uniform appeared on the scene. Obviously the camera crews knew her but I did not. It turned out that she was a police department PR girl and had been assigned to the case. She was good. In no time she had taken control of matters and issued a statement. Although they could not be certain, all indications were that the rape victim was a minor; as such, there could be no pictures nor any direct access to her by the press.

By that time I was finished and went off to find Marty. But as I got closer to the spokeswoman, I could see her holding an earpiece tight to her ear. Apparently she was receiving a message from headquarters. As she released the speaker she nodded her head. “Folks,” she announced, “I’ve just been informed that two more alleged assailants have been arrested. This brings the count to six: two are dead, two are seriously injured, and two are in our custody. That’s all I have for you at this time.”

“Two are dead?” a reported exclaimed. “How did that happen? Who shot them?”

“That’s a bit of a story,” the young woman explained. “Last year we arrested a burglar and through him successfully raided his fence, putting him out of business and recovering a substantial quantity of stolen property. The arrest and recovery were the direct result of actions of two German Shepherds, Prince and Duke. Their owner — another minor!” she added while glaring at the reporters “— was walking with her dogs today near the park.

“She heard cries and sent her dogs to investigate. Apparently they came upon a rape in progress. They attacked and killed two of the rapists. From their position relative to the victim it seems they were in the process of raping her at the time. After dispatching those two, the dogs turned their attention to the others, severing the Achilles tendon on one and taking a piece out to the calf on another. When police arrived on the scene, the dogs led the officers to where the last two were hiding.

“I guess I never realized that Shepherds were good trackers,” she mused. “But they certainly are. I learned that they went straight to where the two were hiding and would have gotten there much faster except for the need for the police officers to keep up. Apparently, Prince and Duke don’t care for rape, even if it’s not their mistress who’s being attacked.

“That’s all I have for you at this point.”

I found Martha with the girl; she had never let go of Marty’s hand and had insisted that she stay with her throughout the examination. By the time I got there, the doctors were finishing up and the girl was ready for transfer to a private room.

Even though Martha had been with the girl the entire time, nonetheless she had somehow managed to contact a private security company — one highly recommended by Jim and Paul — and they were already present in force waiting for the girl to be brought up from the ER (Emergency Room). There were two uniformed guards posted outside the door and there were two young ladies who we later learned had both been rape victims themselves who would alternate staying in the room with the girl. She was being very well protected!

Now that we were almost alone with the girl — the female security officer remained in the background — I got my first good look at her, and in spite of her injuries, the girl was beautiful.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Marty asked softly.

With a wry grin the girl replied, “Slut, Cunt, Skank or Whore. You can take your pick.”

Marty frowned. “I mean your real name; I don’t mean a pejorative.”

I was astounded; the girl seemed to know what “pejorative” meant!

“They are my names, although there are others that are even worse. But none of them come to mind right now. I’ve only been around here for a couple of weeks. You see, I’m from a small—”

“—settlement in the mountains of western Virginia,” Marty and I concluded in unison.

Then to me Marty said, “Why do I think it’s about time to clean out that cesspool?”

“Because it is,” I agreed vehemently. Turning to the girl, I looked at her more closely. While Marty and Missy had golden blonde hair and old me had silver, this girl’s hair was a tawny gold, and she had the most incredible green eyes I had ever seen.

“Well,” I said, “I guess it’s time for you to get a name.” I thought for a moment, grinned and added, “How about Candace? Then you could be Candy.”

“Goody!” the girl said with a grin. “I never had candy until a few days ago, but I love it. Okay; now I’m Candy.”

At that point the charge nurse came into the room and suggested — strongly — that it was time for Marty and me to leave. So we did. Only then did I realize that we had no transportation; we had arrived at the hospital riding in Candy’s ambulance. When I mentioned it to Marty, all I got for my trouble was a cold glare.

I should have known better. Arriving at the main entrance, there was James — on duty, remember? — with our Rolls parked out front.

On the way home, Jim filled us in. It seems that Missy was utterly distraught. She was convinced that the police were going to put down both Prince and Duke. Nothing Jim, Paul, JJ or Maria could say seemed to make a difference. Marty just nodded once and used the car phone to make a call.

No sooner were we back at home than a police cruiser pulled up behind us and the Deputy Chief of Police, John Dempsey, got out. “I understand Missy is upset,” were his first words. He continued, “I came over to see if I could help out.”