Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. No silver has crossed my palm, either.
A/N: Special thanks to my friends csishewolf, vrtrakowski, smacky30, scifijoan and mingsmommy who have given me invaluable feedback on this story and supported me throughout this process.
This story is a crossover between CSI and Manhunter (Red Dragon). William Petersen created an enigmatic and tortured character in FBI Agent Will Graham. Some say he reprised the character when creating Gil Grissom. Dead Ringer throws Gil Grissom and Will Graham together as they try to sort out a series of murders so horrible they rival the crimes of Hannibal Lecter. This story takes place in CSI Season 7. There are references to CSI Season 1, Strip Strangler.
AN IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT SCHEDULING: Projected post date will appear at the end of each chapter. Should there be any change in this schedule, visit my FFNET profile for a link to my LJ: I post delays and other update information ahead of time there with the tag fanfiction.
THIS STORY IS ON TEMPORARY HIATUS.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Mission
When you discover your mission, you will feel its demand.
And it will fill you with enthusiasm and a burning desire to get to work on it.
W. Clement Stone
July 1983 – Duluth Minnesota
Justice Lark continued to live modestly even after he made his first million. He retained his warehouse apartment, his Salvation Army wardrobe and his routine. He even kept the long hair and the beard. Every evening he'd stroll around the red light district, chat up the hookers, have dinner at the Superior Bar and Grill and then it was home to manage inventory and the books.
Once his work day was done, he'd visit the girls again, this time choosing one for the evening. He became known as a good customer because he didn't hit or try to rip anyone off and, a bonus, he tipped generously.
Pimps do not want to chat about how their ladies' day went, but Justice did. He heard all kinds of amusing gossip that he filed away for later. Duluth politicians, captains of industry and church leaders had no idea their secret liaisons were being carefully cataloged by the town's richest pornographer. Amazing how the same names kept cropping up in mail order, too. Lark could never figure that out…just how stealthy did these people think they were, using their real names?
Roger Culpepper was well known among Lark's 'girlfriends.' He usually appeared on Wednesday evenings while the wife went to Novena at St. Mary Star of the Sea. Because of his age and girth, he only bought oral sex and the occasional hand job. A bit more unusual were the names he called out during climax. For awhile it had been Albert (Albert Dinwiddy, mayor of Duluth, perhaps?), but all during the spring and summer of '83 it was Jeff which just happened to coincide with the arrival of a new clerk in his court, Jefferson Mosby.
xxx
The sleeping woman had wrapped herself around him, clinging to him like hope. Raven haired and doe eyed, he called her Kitten for her tiny voice and for the way she purred beneath his hands. Quality goods as hookers went.
Morning light filtered through the K-Mart curtains she'd hung at the window in an effort to give her rooms a little flair. The effect in daylight was disappointing. Carefully extracting himself from her grasp, he reached above his head to pull down the room darkening shade. Much better.
When his movements roused her, she pulled him close again before the day could steal her dreams completely, mumbling. "No…no, not yet."
"Sorry, Kitten. I've got to go," he said quietly, loosening her arms where they circled his chest.
Fully awake, she practically sprang away from him. Fantasies were one thing but this was business and Johns don't like clingy girls. "Sure…sure."
Justice Lark had already put on his prosthesis. He got up to go the bathroom. That done he came back and slipped into his jeans. Kitten blinked muzzily, presenting an almost irresistible tableau to the man. Cock stirring, he briefly considered another go. But he had things to do and people to see. Play time would have to wait.
He put on his chambray shirt without stopping to button it and then sat on the edge of the bed to get a sock and shoe on his good foot. Kitten rose and knelt behind him, combing his long hair with her fingers. "Thanks for the ride, Fellini."
All the girls called him Fellini. They had some idea he was important in the film industry. Even after he used them in a few XXX-rated shorts, they never realized his projects only aspired to be good enough for Crown News and the men on their mailing list. Dreams died very hard for them.
Lark rose from the bed buttoning his shirt. "Thank you, Kitten." Once the buttons were done he fished out his wallet and gave her three, fifty dollar bills. "Thank you very much," he smiled.
Kitten still knelt on the bed, prettily mussed. She clutched the money in one hand. "That judge you're always asking about…he was back the other night."
Justice shrugged on his fatigue jacket. "Yeah?"
The girl got up and put her money in the bedside table. "Yeah, only this time he wasn't alone…he had some pretty boy with him."
"Really? That's new," he observed.
"Yeah…Angel did 'em. She said the old man just watched while the youngun' banged her. He wasn't very gentle, either." Kitten donned a little pink acetate robe. "Back door man, if you know what I mean," she wrinkled her nose disapprovingly.
Justice Lark fought the urge to vomit, only partly because of the act referred to. "Did Angel say anything else about the pretty boy?"
Kitten lit a cigarette and opened the door of the refrigerator in her little kitchenette, bending at the waist to peruse its contents. "Just that the geezer introduced him as his son…yeah, riiiight."
"He didn't give a name, did he?" Lark whispered, so distracted he was completely uninterested in the woman's bare ass peeping out from under her robe.
"Yeah…the old man called him Rick…why?"
When she turned back to Fellini, carton of orange juice in hand, her apartment door was standing open and the man was gone.
xxx
In the summer of 1983, Rick Culpepper was home from college having just received a BS in Psychology from the University of Michigan. By July, his father's pique that he had not majored in law had eased enough to treat them both to a trip 'downtown.' The judge was not so naive as to think this was the boy's first time, but he was a little shocked at the way Rick turned that poor girl every way but loose. The old man hadn't climaxed more than once in a row for at least 10 years. Watching his boy fuck that girl's brain out was…moving. A memorable night, that.
Young Culpepper spent the summer playing tennis at the Ridgeview Country Club, hanging out with friends at the family's 'cottage' on Lake Superior, or tooling around town in his Dad's bright red 1954 MG TF (promised as a graduation gift but never given).
Graduate school was on the horizon, the weather was mild, the old man was off his back, and all was right with the world. Or so he thought.
It's not that difficult to shadow a man who has no idea he's being followed. Once his identical twin tripped his radar, Justice Lark found himself so preoccupied he was almost unable to work. His father's voice echoed in his head with words Lark thought he'd left far behind in International Falls.
'Foolish men imagine that because judgment for an evil thing is delayed, there is no justice; but only accident here below. Judgment for an evil thing is many times delayed some day or two, some century or two, but it is sure as life, it is sure as death.'
For all his money and success Justice was a product of his past. He never understood how much until his other half – the part with two sound legs – waltzed into his life that summer morning. Much of the music in his own life started to fade then, replaced more and more by the drums of Honor's old obsession.
xxx
Angel Kent was suspicious, "Why do you want to know about Back Door Man? What's he to you?"
Lark's smile widened. "You know me, honey…I want to know about all your customers…it turns me on." He draped his arm loosely around the dark haired woman's shoulders, fondling her stretch-lace clad upper arm.
Kent fiddled with the ruffle at the edge of her sleeve. "You don't usually start out this way, Fellini…" She looked up at him to see her worried face twinned in his mirrored sunglasses. It would have been so much easier if she could see his eyes.
Justice Lark backed off cursing himself silently. His preoccupation with Culpepper was screwing up his timing and it would never do to spook Angel whose drug use made sure she was always knocking on paranoia's door. "Look, honey, maybe tonight isn't a good night for us…I see DeeDee over there. Maybe I should just go party with her…"
There was an almost audible screech as Angel switched gears. If she did Fellini, she'd have her quota for the night and then some – Tyrone would be happy and she could get off her feet. "Come on, Fellini…you don't want to go with her."
"I don't?"
"Naw…she don't know the Back Door Man like I do…" Angel moved close to Lark and pressed herself against his crotch. "I've got stories…"
Justice let his hand drop down to squeeze her ass. "You do?" His words were seductive but his stomach was churning.
"Honey…you've got your hand on a goldmine…"
xxx
Culpepper had a definite taste for Duluth's darker pleasures which made him pretty easy to follow. He didn't gamble or do drugs, but his cock did demand quite a bit of attention. Justice could practically track his movements by looking out his apartment window.
What the girls reported about Rick painted a picture of a spoiled and decadent rich kid. He might go for straight sex once in awhile and even the occasional BJ, but he wasn't called Back Door Man for nothing.
Judge Culpepper and his wife provided their only son with virtually unlimited funds and freedom. The one thing missing from Rick's life was sole ownership of his dad's little sports car. Quick to anger, he often raged against his father's broken promise about that car, making the girls he hired wonder who Rick was really fucking up the ass.
Each piece of information Justice uncovered turned his stomach and upped the volume of that old voice inside his head.
'Judgment is as sure as death.'
Oh, there were other voices. Lark knew his Bible, still believed in God and felt Him in his heart.
Judge not lest ye be judged. Matthew 7:1
Let he who is without sin cast the first sin cast the first stone. John 8:7
Do not hate your brother in your heart. Leviticus 19:17-18
Much easier said than done.
April 1984 – Duluth Minnesota
"On this the fourth anniversary of Operation Eagle Claw, former President Carter's failed attempt to rescue the hostages from Iran, let us take the opportunity to remember a local boy who gave his life trying to save others. Timothy Harper was just 18 years old when he died…"
Justice Lark skimmed the article as he did most of what he found in the Local section of the Duluth News Tribune. Every now and then the Judge or his boy turned up there at some social event. Those stories and any accompanying pictures got clipped and filed…for later.
This story was of no particular interest until he flipped the section over. There, below the fold, was a picture of Grace Harper alongside the one of her dead brother, Timmy.
1979. St. Cloud University. Freshman English. There had been over 100 students in the class: he'd sat in the back of the auditorium and she had sat in the front, but he'd noticed her. Dark hair falling to her waist, slim hips, legs that went on forever…those qualities alone caught his interest.
But when she'd turned to chat with a friend, a smile lit her face and he was lost. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
No girl had ever throttled him with her presence this way…and none had since. He'd thought her gone, like his college career, but there was no mistaking that face or those eyes beckoning to him from the paper.
In those days he'd never had the courage or the time to pursue her. But this wasn't 1979. This was 1984 and he was no longer some bumpkin from Up North…
"I loved my brother Tim. Love…I still love him. I'm trying to raise money to fund a scholarship in his memory. They tell me 5,000.00 is the minimum endowment for a perpetual scholarship, so that's what I'm doing. Please…if you knew Tim, and even if you didn't, honor his sacrifice..."
Before the paper hit the floor, he was out of his chair and dialing the phone. He thought he might make a donation.
August 1985 – Duluth Minnesota
Grace Harper led a simple life. She shared an apartment with several other girls on the north side of town. She went to work every day at GH Associates, an up and coming fundraising company she'd put together over the last year. Most days she came straight home from work, but sometimes she stopped at the gym or the grocery store.
It was hard to tell if there were men in her life. A few men visited the apartment, but at least one of her roommates was always home so Justice Lark couldn't be certain which girl received the callers. There didn't seem to be anyone special in her life, which was a huge relief…perhaps he had a chance.
Over the course of the last year Grace had had remarkable success raising money. The Timothy Harper Memorial Scholarship had topped out at 15,000, more than enough to endow it in perpetuity.
Another cause she'd been involved with, North Shore Conservation, had raised 50,000 toward its efforts to preserve native species in and around Lake Superior. It was that achievement which got attention in the papers. NSC had been struggling to stay afloat but when Grace Harper joined the fight, money practically fell from the sky.
The local animal shelter approached her and they had a new building within 3 months.
A women's shelter asked for her help and they raised enough money to expand their services to nearby counties.
The real kicker was The True Vine Church, a humble storefront near the red light district that serviced everyone who came through their doors. Hookers, homeless, the lost and the forgotten of Duluth went there for solace, a hot meal and a bed for the night. An electrical fire in the Chinese restaurant next door spread and the church, along with every other building on the block, was destroyed.
The property owners saw their chance to unload for big bucks, so they sold out to a developer who refused to renew leases, instead announcing plans for huge multi-level parking garage.
The mayor and city council came down in favor of new development (and a percentage of the parking fees). A group of concerned citizens waged a campaign to block the sale and rebuild the church and local small businesses for the good of the surrounding community.
Grace Harper joined the fight to save the block. What happened next was nothing less than a miracle. An anonymous donor bought the property out from under the developer and donated it back to the church. Who can resist such an underdog story? Local Minnesotans ate it up and Grace Harper became Duluth's darling.
Everything the woman touched turned to gold. She decided to capitalize on her success and GH Associates was born. At 24, Grace Harper was well on her way to a satisfying consulting career as well as a small fortune. She couldn't believe her luck.
But it wasn't luck.
It was Lark.
Justice Lark backed each of her projects, making sure money trickled into the charities' coffers in an unremarkable way. Sure, there were more than the usual number of anonymous donors, but as the numbers went from good to great to astounding, all anyone could think about were grand totals far greater than they'd dared hope.
So Grace continued to live a quiet life unaware of her Angel. If she'd looked around more often she'd have seen him watching over her.
At least, he thought of it as watching over her.
Grace might have used another word.
January 1987 – Duluth Minnesota
He called her Kitten and she didn't mind because it beat the shit out of Phyllis…Mama named her after her dead sister, which was OK, she guessed, except she like to died in high school. None of the cool kids was named Phyllis.
Fellini was one of her best and oldest customers, going on five years. She didn't really think of him as a John because …well, he was just different. She knew he liked her. Like, liked her, liked her. He brought her stuff and not just stuff to get in her pants. She'd have froze during the winter of '84 if he hadn't give her that heater.
And he leaned on Tyrone after that fucker beat her up. She didn't want a pimp so Ty decided he'd just ruin her face and put her outta business. Well, she might be a whore but she was nobody's property. Fellini took her to the emergency room to get fixed up. While she was healing a Fast Foo's guy showed up every day with soup which was good 'cause she couldn't eat nuthin' with a wired up jaw…he never said but she figured Fellini sent that soup.
Strange guy, Fellini…she'd never been with an amputee before but he cold fuck better'n most guys with two legs, so that was OK. Horny bastard. Once was never enough…she'd get kinda raw after four or five. Lucky she kept lotsa lube around or she'd a dried up like a prune. He didn't mind…fact he was kinda sweet about it and got it out of the drawer himself. She 'sposed he didn't want to fuck sandpaper 'cause that's what it felt like when she ran dry.
He slept at her place a lot, which was sorta weird. Most Johns did their business and practically ran outta there…afraid she was catchy or somethin.' Fellini wanted to sleep after he ran down. So did she, to tell the truth. She'd never seen nobody have the kinda dreams he had, though. Always cryin' for Mama and yellin' for his daddy to shutupshutupshutup. It was sorta sad. She'd had lotsa bad dreams herself. If he'd have let her, she'd have held him or somethin' but he wouldn't have it, mumblin' about he was a man and didn't need no babyin.' So, she just let him be.
One time she kinda thought he might be sweet on her…a girl could tell when a boy liked her'n all. She wanted to get married and maybe have a kid one day…you know, after she was done with her career. She was sorta thinkin' he might be The One…for awhile there she was the only gal he'd go with and he bought her flowers once. Oh, and a box of them 'spensive chocolates from Germany or someplace. But that didn't last long…he started sayin' another girl's name when they were fucking and even she knew you didn't do that when you were really likin' somebody.
Jus' like you didn't pay 'em to sleep with you. She knew what she was.
And she knew what she wasn't – a doormat who let every man passin' through beat the shit outta her'n her kids. You had to pay for what you got from Kitten Carson and she had a baseball bat standin' by for creeps who thought they could swipe her money or rough her up. She even had 15,000 saved up and was gonna quit the business soon. Real soon.
Soon as she figured out her next move.
October 1989 – Duluth Minnesota
As the years went by, Justice Lark found himself busier than ever. Building his financial empire ate up most of his time. The pornography and video industry was in a state of flux with new technology being introduced every few months. As soon as an innovation looked like it was going to take off, Justice bought a company that made, imported or serviced it. He acquired property and businesses all over the country. Little by little, he came to have control over every part of his supply chain. Profits soared.
His hobbies or rather, his obsessions, took time, too. Grace Harper was on the go, traveling in the Midwest for her flourishing consulting business. It turned out Miss Harper had an instinct about causes: she didn't need Lark's secret support to push a fundraising campaign over the top. He kept contributing, of course, as a kind of tithe and as a way to feel close to the woman who had so captured his heart. He watched over her when she was in town – fantasies of meeting her quickened his breath and made his cock ache…plans he knew deep down would never amount to anything.
Following the Culpeppers got a bit complicated when Rick went into the FBI, necessitating trips out east to keep an eye on him. Once the young agent was stationed in Washington, DC, Lark bought a warehouse in Georgetown. Hotels were notoriously expensive in the Nation's Capital: Justice saw no reason to waste money when he could invest it instead.
Kitten continued to be a presence in Lark's life. She wasn't a girlfriend or even a confidante, but she was a soft place to land. He liked her company. He also liked fucking her, satisfying his sexual needs so he could concentrate on business. He still had no idea how often he called out Grace's name during sex and if he knew how much Kitten had put together about his lonely childhood he would have been mortified.
The working girl in question made the most of her good fortune. Leaving the business someday actually seemed possible when she opened her passbook and watched her savings grow. Having a patron was different than being owned by a pimp. For one thing, Fellini never took her money or beat her if she was too sick to work. He paid her, too…every single time…though she would have done him for free if he'd asked.
None of the people in this story…not Justice, Rick or Roger Culpepper, Grace Harper or Kitten Carson…had any idea how much their lives were about to change.
All because of a case of mistaken identity.
November 1989 – Duluth Minnesota
"Would you do me up, Dear?" Dorothy Culpepper turned her bare back toward her son. Rick pushed away from the doorframe where he'd been leaning as his mother got dressed. A cloud of Bal a Versailles assailed him as he raised the delicate tab on her zipper.
Culpepper backed away quickly, clearing his throat. "I think you went a little overboard on the perfume, Mom."
Dorothy studied herself in the mirror only half listening to her son. "What's that, Dear?"
"Nothing, Mom." He checked his watch, "When does this thing get started?"
A flip of her manicured hand dismissed his unasked question. "Oh, we have plenty of time…and you won't have to stay that long, I promise…I know you have an early flight back to Washington." She bent forward and erased a smudge of lipstick at the corner of her mouth, then fluffed her hair one last time. "I just want you to be with me when Morris Dees arrives."
Rick fiddled with the studs of his tuxedo shirt. "Isn't Dad on the Board that invited Dees to speak?"
Dorothy grabbed the full length chinchilla coat draped on the bed and handed it to her son. "Oh, Rick, your father is just hopeless at social events. You've seen him." Coat on, she paused once more at the mirror. "He sets up near the bar and holds court…someone like Morris Dees shouldn't have to queue up to pay his respects…"
"All right…all right…" Hand on his mother's back, he tried to propel her forward, "Let's get this show on the road."
Mrs. Culpepper turned to brush some non-existent dust from her boy's tuxedo. "Oh, Rick…I wish you'd get into the spirit of these things…there will probably be some nice young women there." Her brow furrowed at the cold reception the bait she'd dangled had received. "You're as bad as your father." The exquisitely dressed woman whirled, picked up her evening bag from the table by the door and marched out of the house in a huff.
A half grin played on Rick's lips as he strolled out the door after her. "Why, thank you…I try…"
xxx
Grace Harper was floating on air. It was one thing to be asked to head the Minnesota Bar Association's annual charity fundraising effort, it was another to have gotten Morris Dees, one of the founders of The Southern Poverty Law Center, to serve as co-chair.
This year's cause was a victim's rights fund which had been struggling to make ends meet for several years. Grace heard about it and helped them keep their doors open with some independent fund raising in 1988 and '89. It had taken some doing, but she'd gotten the Minnesota Bar to adopt the fund for 1990. With any luck, the money from the Bar's efforts would revitalize the fund's endowment for a long, long time.
The reception was well under way when Grace made her third circuit around the room. Dees turned out to be a charmer, excellent for the cause. All she had to do was point him at the lights of Duluth society and he turned into a money machine. He didn't have bills stuffed into his pants, but check after check was pressed into her hand in Dees's wake.
Grace recognized Dorothy Culpepper as the wife of Federal Circuit Court Judge Roger Culpepper, a power in the Minnesota Bar Association. She'd already greeted the Judge and his usual crowd at a table near the bar. The wife had just bustled in on the arm of a striking young man. As she maneuvered Dees across the room, Mrs. Culpepper's escort turned and their eyes met.
Grace Harper was not a fanciful woman. She didn't believe in love at first sight or any of the clichés about instant attraction. But she'd never experienced anything quite like this. If she were honest, she'd have admitted there was something about this man that set her belly fluttering. Suddenly the modest black silk sheath she was wearing felt too tight. Her breath quickened and she started to sweat.
Rick Culpepper had just stifled a yawn when he noticed a striking, dark haired woman crossing the room toward him and his mother on the arm of the guest of honor. He was just about to tap Dorothy on the shoulder to alert her when their eyes met. Instantly alert, he revised his opinion of the reception upward and unconsciously smoothed his hair.
Slightly flushed, Grace made the introductions. "Mrs. Culpepper, I'm so pleased you could join us this evening." Her gaze flickered over Dorothy's companion and her face felt hot. "I'd like to introduce Morris Dees…"
"Mr. Dees…It is a pleasure. My husband and I do so admire your work." Dorothy instantly commandeered the guest of honor, leaving Rick and Grace to size each other up.
He recovered first, "Good evening. I am Rick Culpepper and you are…?"
"Grace…um" She was distracted by something in his eyes…and an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.
Rick tilted his head and smiled. "Grace Um…pleased to meet you." There was amusement in his voice. He had her…he knew he had her. He didn't know quite why, but his evening was definitely looking up.
Grace continued to stare at Rick Culpepper for long moments. When he winked at her, she took in a sudden deep breath. "Sorry…I was staring…that's so rude." She tried to cover her embarrassment.
His mother and Dees had left them and were now working their way around the room. Rick nodded at the pair. "I hope you didn't have plans for him. Mom will never let him go now that she's got her hooks in him." He chuckled, hoping his joke would give the lovely Grace time to recover.
"It's Harper…Grace Harper."
Rick extended his hand. "My pleasure, Grace Harper."
Her brow furrowed. "Do we know each other, Mr. Culpepper?"
"Rick, please…I don't think so…"
Grace continued to study his face. "You look so familiar to me…perhaps we met in college?"
"It's possible…I went to Michigan. You?"
She shook her head, as if to clear it. " St. Cloud…I'm sorry to keep staring, but you really do remind me of someone."
Rick looked around and saw his mother was happily engaged by the bar. He whispered conspiratorially. "You know, you remind me of someone, too."
Her eyes widened. "Oh really, who?"
"The most beautiful woman in this room…"
xxx
In an hour, Grace Harper had taken Rick Culpepper home to bed.
Within a week, she'd flown to DC on a fund raising trip that included several nights at Rick's Georgetown apartment. They didn't leave the bedroom for three days. For the first time ever, GH Associates failed to meet its fundraising goal.
In a month, Grace was deeply in love and unbeknownst to her, pregnant with Rick's child.
In two months they were engaged.
They were married on the three month anniversary of their first meeting. Judge Culpepper presided and Dorothy wept for days. The couple had no time for a honeymoon because Grace was busy moving her business east. Rick did arrange for a weekend at the Willard Hotel before he was called out of town on a case. Oddly, the tires of the entire wedding party were slashed during the brief ceremony. That case was never solved.
Grace miscarried at home alone six months after she met her husband. Rick found her unconscious on the floor of their bathroom when he came in at two a.m. from a tour around Vermont Avenue. Several days later while Grace was recuperating, Rick's car was set on fire: it was a total loss. That case was never solved, either.
The couple limped along for another two months before Grace packed her bags and went back to Duluth. The divorce was final a year later.
Two years after that, Grace Harper took a handful of pills and joined her loved ones on the other side.
Through it all, Justice Lark watched in agony.
xxx
Duluth went into mourning when Grace Harper died. People she'd helped came out of the woodwork to attend her funeral which had to be moved twice to accommodate the crowds of mourners. A scholarship was quickly established in her name.
The Duluth News Tribune ran a series of articles highlighting her work with sidebars recounting the tragedies in her life: her sister Polly's long ago death in a boating accident, the loss of the family Cadillac dealership, her father's suicide on the one year anniversary of Polly's death, and Timothy's heroic sacrifice.
Very little was said about her divorce and the possible connection the failed marriage might have had to her death. Such was the power of her ex-father-in-law. Privately, people who knew the Judge and his son nodded sagely and pitied the poor woman for marrying into that family.
Justice Lark was devastated.
He'd failed. He had failed Grace and himself by not taking care of her. He never let her know she wasn't alone or that she was thoroughly and completely loved. He'd been so enraged at the cruelty of Fate for handing his dream, his soul mate and his life to the bastard who kept getting his Blessings, he'd neglected to help her. He had failed to save her.
It was in these moments that he missed his mother most. No matter how much the other kids teased him for his missing leg or his odd family, no matter how difficult Papa was and no matter how he bled from the beatings, Mama was always there to love the pain away. Now, for the first time since her death, he felt that loss more keenly than the day she died.
Bewildered and hurting, weighed down by pain and anger, he sought comfort in the one place he'd allowed himself to rest since coming to Duluth. Justice went to see his Kitten.
June 1992 – Duluth Minnesota
When he finally showed up at her door, sorrow was carved into his face. Kitten immediately took him to her bed where he made slow sweet love to her then collapsed and sobbed into her shoulder. He fell asleep in her arms.
A deep chill descended on the room as the sun went down. She hated to wake him, but if she didn't do something soon, her apartment would be cold for hours. Carefully she slid out of bed and turned the portable heater he'd given her several years before to High, grabbed her robe and dove back beneath the covers.
Fellini blinked groggily. "What time is it?"
"I don't know, honey…" She snuggled up to him, soaking up the warmth of his body. "Dark."
He sat up and immediately pulled the quilt up to his chin. "Shit, it's cold in here."
Kitten poked her nose out from under the covers. "Sorry, I've turned up the heat…it'll warm up soon"
Fellini reached for his leg. "Guess I'll have to pee quick, then."
While he was in the bathroom, Kitten added socks to her ensemble. "It's good to see you, honey…I've missed you."
"Yeah?" His smile was still sad.
"Yeah…and I've got a surprise for you." It had been two months since Fellini had been by. She pulled a video tape out of her bedside table drawer and placed it in his hand. "I've been dying to show it to you…I put your video equipment to good use," she grinned.
"You've been filming again…" he observed as he handed the tape back to her. His cock stiffened involuntarily and his voice was husky, "Show me…" Fellini sat on the end of the bed.
Her pussy was still glistening with their first encounter he noted as she bent over to insert the tape. He couldn't help but fist himself…she did have a tight little pussy. Not yet thirty, Kitten had been a working girl for a dozen years, yet somehow, it had not taken the toll on her like it did the other girls. She didn't have the brassy, used up, old-before-their-time look most of them had. And the goods, amazingly, were still quality.
The screen flickered as the tape got going. She backed up the few steps to the bed. Her legs fell open slightly when he pulled her down into his lap and his hand was instantly buried there, skating over the sensitive tissue slick with their mingled fluids. Kitten leaned against him and extended her neck in order to reach his lips. As they concentrated on the feel of their tongues moving together, she reached down to palm the head of his cock trapped against her thigh.
Sounds from the television started to filter into their experience. "You're going to love this…watch…" she cooed, happy and proud.
On screen, Kitten's video self began to entertain two men – one young, one older. The light in the room was not great so the faces were not clearly visible. The older man opened his pants and withdrew his stiffening penis. "Suck it, baby…suck me..."
Video Kitten removed her robe and bent from the waist. Licking her palms for lubrication, she pumped the man briefly before taking him in her mouth.
Fellini shifted beneath the real life Kitten. "I've never seen you do two…do you like it, doing two cocks at once?"
"Do you like watching me do two?"
"Oh, yes," he whispered as his fingers worked their way inside her. She giggled. "And when you see what I did for you, you're gonna love it." And me, she thought privately.
The two men on the screen were now fully engaged with video Kitten, one in her mouth and the other behind. Sound quality on the tape was not the best, but the voices were pretty clear. "Get in her, son…open her up and ram it in her."
Fellini started to push the willing woman back onto the bed when he stopped and looked back at the screen. He couldn't have recognized that voice could he?
The younger man raised his fingers to his lips, carrying away spit which he transferred to the head of his cock. "Relax baby…the Back Door Man is coming in."
Understanding exploded into Lark's consciousness. The Judge and his son…
The time stamp ticked away in the lower right hand corner of the screen: 02:28:92 18: 02:45…46…47…48…
February 28, 1992… 6:02 p.m.
Grace had been found dead early that same morning.
On screen, video Kitten grimaced as Rick Culpepper forced himself into her back passage. "Oh, yeah…that's good…relax baby, don't tense up…"
The Judge grabbed roughly at video Kitten's breast with one hand as he forced her head back down to his crotch. "Break time's over…get busy…"
Justice Lark stood abruptly, spilling Kitten into the floor. "Hey…that hurt!" She took one look at his face and for the first time since she'd known him, was afraid.
The video Judge grunted his pleasure. "I should take you home, baby…keep you just so you can suck me off…"
Rick Culpepper's video self laughed. "Would have to be better than what we ended up with…like that cold bitch I married…" Culpepper grasped video Kitten's hips and pulled her roughly backward onto his cock. "Guess she's really cold now, eh Dad?"
Judge Culpepper burst out laughing just as he came and even though video Kitten tried to keep hold of him, he sprayed semen all over her and the rest of the room.
Real life Kitten struggled to her feet but Justice swept her out of the way. His eyes were riveted in horror to the images unrolling before his eyes. Grace…Grace…his beloved Grace…
Both of those men laughed at his poor dead Grace while Rick was… "You…you…" He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. He grabbed Kitten by the shoulders and cried in her face, "Oh, my God…tell me he didn't…"
"What? He didn't what?" The frightened girl struggled. "You're hurting me, Fellini."
Unbidden, a list of Biblical laws and prohibitions cascaded in his memory…
…And if a man shall take his brother's wife, it is an unclean thing. Leviticus 20:21
"Unclean…unclean…ruined…he's ruined everything…" he muttered.
Kitten fought against the fingers pressing painfully against her bones. "Hey, that's from the Bible, right?" Scared, confused, she couldn't make sense of his reaction. "Look, I'm sorry…I don't, I mean, I didn't…please...let me go."
"Sodomy…" Emotion crumpled his face as he pleaded with her. "He took you? He fucked you?"
Crying now, Kitten was frantic, "Please, Fellini…"
In an instant, confusion was obliterated as rage flooded his brain. "My brother fucked you up the ass?" Revulsion shuddered through him and he pushed her away, hard.
Suddenly, Kitten was falling backward. Her arms flailed as she tried to grab anything that might break her fall. The nearby space heater overturned and landed on top of her; the lamp on the bedside table shattered on the floor. Her eyes were wild until her head struck the radiator against the wall.
Then they were simply eyes open in the face of a dead woman.
Justice stood completely still. The video behind him had finished and the room was filled with the sound of static and his own labored breathing. Slowly the contents of her loosening bowels crept into the room, new smells mingling with the scent of sex, blood and smoldering flesh.
He knew when he approached her that she was dead. Still, he knelt and patted her hand, calling her name. "Kitten, oh God…Kitten…I didn't mean it…"
Trembling hands felt for a pulse that wasn't there. The enormity of what he'd done crashed down on him. He'd taken a life…but, but…Culpepper…he was the one…
The roar in his ears knocked him on his ass. "Will you take up your Destiny now, Son?"
Confused, Lark tried to look behind himself. "Papa?"
"Foolish men imagine that because judgment for an evil thing is delayed, there is no justice; but only accident here below. Judgment for an evil thing is many times delayed some day or two, some century or two, but it is sure as life, it is sure as death."
Justice shook his head and got to his knees. "What have I done? What have I done?" Tears overflowed and dropped onto his heaving chest.
Honor's voice seemed to come from everywhere. "Have you forgotten Jacob and Esau? Who has stolen your birthright? Now will you make him pay?"
Openly weeping, Lark cradled Kitten's cooling fingers to his cheek. "Forgive me, Lord…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"
"There shall be no forgiveness as long as Judgment is unsatisfied!"
"Mama? Mama, are you there? Help me…what have I done?" An unsteady hand reached out to right the space heater that was lying against Kitten's flesh. If she'd been alive, she'd have had a nasty burn. Dead, there was an orderly grid of charred flesh around a single word in the center:
…mission…
Justice looked from the burn to the heater. A dozen raised metal letters spelled out the manufacturer's name – Anoissimette – only seven had marked her body.
The letters seemed to dance on her skin through the tears in his eyes. Mission…mission…mission…
"You have a Mission, Son."
"A Mission?" Lark's words were uncertain.
"If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out…"
His voice was stronger. "Pluck it out…pluck him out…"
"You must carry on and see that JUSTICE IS DONE."
The naked man rose painfully from the floor never taking his eyes from the dead girl at his feet. With what felt like his last breath, Lark whispered, "Justice is done."
To Be Continued...Chapter 36 will be posted on Sunday, October 7