Brian Freeman - Stalked

When Brandt broke from the woods onto a narrow trail and accelerated, Stride thought he had lost him, but suddenly, he saw Brandt become airborne, his legs cartwheeling and his body twisting and landing in the snow. Stride saw the glacial rock that had tripped Brandt and leapt it smoothly, and in another second, he closed the gap and threw himself at Brandt, who was struggling to get up. He connected solidly on the square of Brandt's back, and the man gave way underneath him, his limbs splaying. With the heel of his hand, Stride slapped Brandt's skull hard, harder than he really needed to, and then found the man's wet hands and scissored his cuffs tightly around Brandt's wrists. He slid his belt out of his jeans and secured Brandt's ankles, too.

Stride took hold of Brandt's shoulder and turned him over and saw Brandt's face twisted like a mask, so caught up with fury that he was almost unrecognizable. Stride realized that everyone in this case was wearing masks.

Stride climbed into the rear of the patrol car. His willpower to stop smoking had evaporated by the time he reached the bottom of the hill, and he rolled the window halfway down, lit up, and blew a cloud of smoke outside. He was wet and cold, and his body hurt. He fingered the burnt skin on his neck, which looked like a red tattoo where Brandt's belt had strangled him. Brandt sat next to him in the backseat, handcuffed, saying nothing and gazing through the glass at the outside world.

First-timers always did that as the reality dawned on them. Freedom was gone.

The circling red lights of an ambulance flashed like a strobe through the interior of the car. There were police cars and cops everywhere. Stride took another drag, then blew smoke inside the car this time, and Brandt coughed.

"Lassiter's going to be fine," Stride said.

Brandt's mouth twitched, but he was silent.

"Here's what I don't understand, Mitch. You're a hotshot broker, pulling down, what, a couple hundred thousand a year? That's a fortune in this city. Why throw it away?"

No response.

Stride sighed and leaned back into the seat. "Lassiter told me it's hard to get rich by the hour, and she was probably making twice what you were making. I guess it's never enough, is that it?"

He looked for a signal in Brandt's face, but the young broker was sullen and withdrawn.

"Or was it the thrill of the chase?" Stride asked. "Were you doing it to see if you could get away with it?" When Brandt still didn't reply, he went on. "That's okay, you don't need to tell me anything. Get lawyered up and start negotiating a plea. We already have you on assault and attempted murder, so that's at least the next six to nine years of your life gone. We'll have to jockey with the feds, of course, because they're going to want you in federal prison for the Infloron Medical deal."

Brandt's head snapped around. Stride nodded.

"Oh, yeah, we know all about the insider trading scheme. You and Lassiter. The SEC knows about it, too, but that's not news to you, is it? That's why you went after Lassiter tonight."

Stride flicked his cigarette out the window. "The SEC is going to have to stand in line, though. Once we add multiple rapes to the list of charges, your white-collar crime stuff is going to seem like cheating on an exam. Now we're talking twenty-five years to life. Hard time."

Brandt heard the word rape , and he finally spoke. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Mitch."

"I never raped anyone."

"No? That was just a game at Sonia's house tonight?" He saw Brandt do a double take, and he added, "Yeah, we know about the sex club, too."

"You can't make that out as rape."

"What about the others?"

"What others?"

"The alpha girls," Stride said.

"What about them? News flash, that's why they come to the club. To have sex. No one got raped."

Stride shrugged. "How about Tanjy?"

"What about her?"

"You playact a rape with her in Grassy Point Park, and after she dumps you, she winds up getting raped in the same place. That's quite a coincidence. Rape stories just seem to follow you around, don't they, Mitch?"

"Tanjy made up the rape," Brandt insisted.

Stride shook his head. "No, she didn't. Was it a thrill, getting back at her like that, knowing you could expose all her fantasies, and no one would believe her? What happened then? Did you decide you liked the power that came with it? When you got away with raping Tanjy, did you realize that the alpha girls would do anything to keep their secrets? Even after you raped them, too?"

"You're talking crazy here. I do not know what the fuck you are talking about."

"I'm talking about two alpha girls getting assaulted after the parties. Just like you were doing to Kathy Lassiter tonight. And maybe you don't know this, but this case is very personal to me."

Brandt struggled with his cuffs. "No way."

"This isn't going to be a hard case to make, Mitch. We've got a dozen witnesses to the assault on Kathy Lassiter. You were one of only a handful of men who were at all of the sex club parties where the alpha girls were later raped. You've got the size and strength to pull it off. And you told me you played rape games with Tanjy every night at knifepoint. That's just what you did to the other women."

"Oh, fuck it. I cannot believe this." Brandt swung his head into the window so hard that a cut opened up on his forehead and blood leaked down his face, matting at his eyebrow. A red smear stained the glass. Stride pulled a few tissues from his pocket and leaned close to Brandt, blotting the blood. The tissue turned crimson.

"The club was a secret, Mitch," Stride continued. "No one else knew about the alpha girls. What's a jury going to think? Do you honestly think they'll picture someone like Delmar Bezac as a rapist? You're the stud of the group." He leaned in toward Brandt's ear and whispered, "Eric Sorenson figured it out, didn't he? He came to you and accused you of raping his wife. So you had to stop him. And Tanjy."

Brandt was close enough that Stride could smell his sweat. With Stride's hand over one eye, and his chiseled face needing a shave, Brandt looked like a pirate.

"You don't know anything," he told Stride. "You don't know what's going on in this city."

"Then explain it to me."

"I'm being set up. Just like Maggie."

"Sure."

"Look, whatever Lassiter says, it was her idea. She met me in the club. She came to me with the whole scheme about Infloron Medical and the FDA approval. So when I found out she was negotiating a sweet deal with the SEC to put it all on me, I lost it."

Stride shook his head. "You've got it wrong, Mitch. The SEC didn't know a thing about Kathy Lassiter. You were the one they had in their sights, not her. They got an anonymous tip."

He watched Brandt's eyes, which changed like a chameleon.

"You're lying to me," Brandt said.

"No, someone set you up."

"Son of a bitch," Brandt retorted, air hissing between his teeth.

"You sound like you know who it is."

Brandt closed his eyes. "Fuck this, I need to talk to my lawyer. I've got something to trade, and I want to find out how much it's worth before I say another goddamn word."

"What do you have to trade?" Stride asked.

"You said you're after a rapist, right?"

Stride saw that blood had oozed out around the edges of the tissues on Brandt's forehead. He pressed on the wound hard, and Brandt jerked in pain. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear, this guy may have killed two people. Right now, I think you're good for it. If you're not, then you better tell me why and help me find him."

"I want credit if you nail this guy. Some kind of deal."

"Yeah, we'll put a plaque up for you in City Hall. Who is he?"