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"Stolen Innocence-Part 9"

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      (Mf, MMMf, Mff, Fff,nc,rape,anal)

A few minutes later, they were wrapped in blankets in the back seat of the police cruiser. Michelle sat quietly, tears of relief running down her face, while Debbie tried to explain everything they had been through to the two police officers. The officers listened to their story with shocked looks on their faces. They'd both seen a lot on the street, but Debbie's story horrified them. From their bedraggled appearance, the way they were dressed, and Michelle was obviously in shock, they had no reason to doubt their story. Following Debbie's directions, they returned to the building they'd just escaped from. One of the cops got out and knocked on the door. Debbie remembered the code Carlos had used and relayed it to the cop. A few moments later, a very surprised Kim opened the door.

"Is that one of them?," the other cop asked Debbie.

Michelle gripped Debbie's arm. "Yes," Debbie replied. "She helped them rape us." Her voice was choked and she had to fight to keep from crying.

"It's ok," the cop said softly. "You're safe now." He picked up the microphone and radioed for backup, then opened his door. "Wait here. The doors are locked. No one can get to you," he said and went over to where his partner was talking to Kim. Debbie and Michelle watched as he nodded to his partner and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. They faced Kim against the wall and cuffed her. Just then, another police car pulled up. Kim glared at them as she was led to the other car. Debbie calmly held up her middle finger and mouthed 'Fuck you, bitch!' as she passed by their window.

They watched as their rapists were brought out one by one, handcuffed, searched, and lined up along the wall to wait for the paddy wagon. The police officer that picked them up came over to the car and opened the door.

"We found six people inside. Is that all of them?" Debbie and Michelle scanned the faces of their torturers and nodded.

Debbie said, "That's all of them, but there was a black Escalade looking for us. They're the ones who brought us here, and . . ." She lowered her head.

"Did they . . . hurt you, too?," he asked gently, trying to conceal the anger in his voice. He had a twelve year old daughter and he couldn't imagine what he would do if something like this happened to her. Debbie nodded, struggling against the tears.

"His name . . . is Carlos. His bodyguard is Joe," she said.

The cop nodded. "Carlos has dark hair and Joe is a big black guy?," he asked. Debbie looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears and nodded.

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The cop smiled grimly. "We know who they are. Don't worry, we'll nail them." He glanced over his shoulder at the prisoners. "If it's any consolation, child molesters have a tough time in prison. And I plan to make sure that wherever they end up . . . and trust me, they're all going away for a long time . . . but wherever they end up, I will personally ensure all the other cons know exactly what they did." He grinned. "They're going to get first hand knowledge of how it felt to be in your shoes!" Debbie did get some satisfaction from his words, and settled back in the seat next to Michelle. She looked over to see an almost malevolent smile on Michelle's lips as she watched Alex, Ron, David, Mark, and Karen be led into the paddy wagon. She noticed Debbie watching her and looked at her.

"I hope they get fucked up the ass every fucking day for the rest of their miserable lives!," she said matter-of-factly. Debbie stared at her. Was this the same meek, mild mannered girl she thought she knew? She found herself grinning back.

"Me, too, honey. Me too."

A few minutes later, a black minivan arrived and the cop waiting with them explained that it was a special unit trained to help rape victims. The girls thanked him gratefully, hugging him warmly, before allowing the female officer from the minivan to lead them away. They went directly to the hospital, where Debbie and Michelle were each given thorough examinations, checked for STDs, and had semen and DNA samples taken for the investigation. And since they had not taken the time to wipe the various cum stains from their faces and bodies, there was plenty of evidence.

A couple of hours later they were lying in their beds in the same hospital room with a police guard at the door. Michelle had refused to be separated from Debbie and to be honest, Debbie wanted to stay with her, too. Two detectives had just left after asking them a few questions and told them that their parents had been notified and were on their way. Debbie looked over at Michelle, who was asleep thanks to the sedatives the doctor had given her. He explained to Debbie that she was in deep shock and would require extensive psychotherapy if she ever hoped to recover. He recommended therapy for her as well, although she appeared to be doing better than Michelle. The good news was that all the tests for STDs came back negative. And neither of them was pregnant. She lay staring blankly out the window, thinking about how much she'd grown up in the past few weeks and trying to think of a way to help rescue Katie and Carrie.

"Debbie? Oh my god, my baby!" Her mother rushed in and hugged her, her father following close behind. Debbie held them tight for a long time, all three sobbing with tears of relief and joy. They asked her where she had been, what had happened to her. She just shook her head. How could she explain to her parents what had been done to her?

"I called Carrie and Katie's parents before we left. Do you know where they are?," her mother asked, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Debbie shook her head sadly.

"We were separated the night they . . . took us. I haven't seen them since, but I did hear from one other girl that she had seen Katie . . . um, about a week ago, I think. She said she was ok." Her father was out in the hall, talking to the doctor. When he came back in, his face was dark. Debbie could see the frustrated anger in his eyes.

"Those . . . bastards!," he exclaimed, looking at her with tears in his eyes. "How could they . . ." He broke down, unable to continue. Her mother looked at him, wondering what he was talking about. She looked at Debbie, who decided she had to tell her.

"They . . .they raped us, Mom. Over and over and over . . ." She began to shake and sob and her mother held her in her arms, rocking her in that soothing way only mothers can do.

They were still hugging each other a few minutes later when Michelle's parents arrived. She was still deep in a drug induced sleep. The doctors had gently explained to them what had happened to their daughter. Her mother came in and sat next to her, holding her hand and sobbing quietly, both in relief that she was alive and in sorrow for what she'd been through. Michelle's father was a tall man who had the physique of a linebacker. The pain in his eyes was clearly evident as he stood next to his wife and watched his daughter sleep.

After a few minutes, he turned to Debbie's parents and introduced himself and his wife. He looked at Debbie and shook her hand firmly, but gently. "I understand you're the reason you two were able to get away from those . . . those . . ." He choked back a sob, took a deep breath, and continued. "Please forgive me. When I think about what those . . . sick sons of bitches did to you, I just want to . . ." He paused again. "Anyway, I just want to thank you," He gestured toward his wife. "We want to thank you from the bottom of our hearts for bringing our baby home. If there's ever anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask." Tears filled his eyes and ran down one cheek. "We thought we had lost our baby, " he said, his voice cracking. "And we may still. She certainly isn't a baby anymore." He looked over at Michelle.

"She's stronger than you think," Debbie said. "If it wasn't for her untying me, we'd still be there." She managed a weak smile. "She's going to be ok."

The big man looked into her eyes and patted her on the shoulder, before going back over to his wife and daughter. Debbie watched them for a moment, then turned to her parents.

"Mom, Dad, I want to help the police find Katie and Carrie, and all the other girls who they kidnaped."

"Sweetie, let's just worry about getting you taken care of. Leave that up to the police," her mother said.

Debbie shook her head. "No. The doctors say I need therapy. I can't think of any better therapy than helping to nail those . . ." She bit her tongue, almost calling them 'fuckers'. ". . . bastards to the wall."

A few days later, Debbie was in her living room talking to Detectives Frank Green and Elaine Masters of the Special Victims Unit. They'd been talking since she was brought to the hospital and they knew everything she did about Donna and her gang of child molesters. She told them she wanted to help in their capture, actively. The two detectives exchanged glances.

"Uh, Debbie," Detective Green said, "We appreciate your cooperation and you've already been a big help, but I'm afraid anything beyond that is simply out of the question." Masters spoke up.

"We can't allow a minor to be involved in an investigation, Debbie. I'm sorry."

"But I am involved!," she protested. "What more can they possibly do to me?"

Elaine took a deep breath. "They could kill you, Debbie. Or recapture you."

"But they're my friends!," she pleaded. "I have to help them!"

Elaine took her hand. "We understand how you feel, but leave this to us, ok? We know how to handle these people."

She could tell that she wasn't going to get anywhere with them. She sighed resignedly. "Can you at least keep me updated on any progress?"

Elaine smiled and stood up. "That, we can do!" They both shook her hand and left her alone.

Her parents were still both at work. She thought about calling Michelle, but she was still at the shrink. In the days since her release from the hospital, her and Michelle had talked for hours on the phone and Debbie had gone to visit her every day. She was being released today after her therapy session and Debbie was planning to visit her at home tonight. She leaned back on the couch and thought. There had to be something she could do!

Then it hit her. The movies. They had to be selling the movies they made somehow. Probably over the internet. She picked up the phone and called her older brother, Tom. He was twenty-four and had been living in the city for almost two years. Maybe he could help her find out how they were doing it.

She explained her idea to him, swearing him to secrecy. He reluctantly agreed to help her. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, he just didn't want to put her in any danger. And he wanted to see the people who did this to his baby sister pay as much as Debbie did. He agreed to get back to her as soon as he knew something.

A few days later, Debbie was in her room. She had just gotten off the phone with Michelle, who seemed to doing much better, although she still had a long way to go. They both did. Debbie was also going to therapy, but she was careful not to let her detective work slip out. She wasn't sure if the sessions were helping much, but it did feel good to talk about it. There was a quick knock at her door and Tom poked his head in.

"Hey there! How are you feeling today?"

"Tom! Hi! Come on in!" She and Tom had always been close, even though he was ten years older. There was never any sibling rivalry between them, probably because of the age difference. She gave him a hug, then asked, "Did you find out anything?", in a hushed tone.

Tom sighed and held out a computer printout. "If the cops ever look at my computer to see what websites I've been visiting, they'll throw me in jail!," he said, shaking his head. "I can't believe all these sickos are free to sell their garbage to anyone with a computer and a credit card!"

Debbie scanned the paper. It was a list of websites that offered sex tapes of young girls, and boys. Most of them were set up so you could order on-line or by mail, using a PO box.

"Are you really going to stake out these PO boxes," Tom asked, looking over her shoulder at the list.

She nodded. "At least the ones here in town. It's the only way I can think of to find them. It has to be one of them, and they'll have to check it fairly regularly."

"What if they see you and recognize you?," he asked, concern in his voice.

"I'll wear a disguise," she replied, studying the list. "A wig, dark glasses, and baggy clothes so they won't be tempted to kidnap me again." That part was supposed to be a joke, but Tom wasn't laughing.

"Just be careful. And let me know when and where you're going. I'll come with you if I can," he said.

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Tom. It really means a lot to me."

Three weeks later, Debbie was sitting near one of the PO boxes on the list at another post office in the city. Tom had been with her on most of her stake-outs, but today he was working. This was the seventh post office she'd watched and none of the people who'd picked up the mail at the other boxes looked familiar. She couldn't be sure she would even know the person who picked up the mail, but at least she was doing something. She had met quite a few of Donna's staff and she was hopeful whoever was picking up the mail would be someone she'd recognize. Her dark wig covered her blonde hair and she wore an old cap and loose fitting clothes, trying to appear as ordinary and unattractive as possible.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man enter the post office and approach the bank of PO boxes. Something about him seemed familiar and she casually glanced in his direction. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. There, not twenty feet from where she was sitting, was Andrew, the man who seduced and raped her! She quickly ducked her head behind the magazine she was holding and held her breath as he opened the box she was watching and collected some envelopes from it. He turned around, looking quickly around the room, then went back out the doors he came in through.

Acting on impulse, she ran to the doors and looked out in time to see him enter a subway station just outside. She went out and ran down the steps to the station. He was already past the turnstiles by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. She bought a token and ran to the platform in time to see him standing on a train that was pulling out of the station. 'Damn it!,' she thought, then considered what she'd almost done. What if she had managed to get on the train with him? What was she going to do? Make a citizen's arrest? More likely, he'd just take her back to Donna and then what? They'd have to kill her, of course! She pulled the list of PO boxes from her pocket. She had to call Detective Masters. Maybe when she saw what Debbie had done, she'd let her at least watch as they picked up Donna and her cohorts. She smiled to herself. 'I've got you, you bitch!', she thought, and went back up to the street.

For the next three days, Debbie and Elaine waited in Elaine's car outside the post office for Andy to reappear. When she'd explained to Elaine how she found Andrew, Elaine was impressed by her ingenuity and reluctantly agreed to ask her captain if Debbie could observe when they arrested the gang.

"But, you stay in the car!," Elaine had scolded her after she had obtained permission from her captain and Debbie had convinced her less than enthusiastic parents. Debbie agreed, but secretly hoped she could be there to see the look on Donna's face when they slapped the cuffs on her.

They were parked across the street where they could see the subway station and the entrance to the post office. Two plainclothes cops were in the post office and two more were in the subway. Debbie and Elaine talked like old friends as they whiled away the hours. Debbie learned that Elaine was married to a lawyer who worked in the DA office and had a four year old daughter.

"So you see, this case really hits home for me," she said, sipping her coffee. Debbie nodded her understanding. She began telling Elaine that she was seriously considering a career in law enforcement. She wanted to help put sick people like Donna away so they couldn't hurt anyone. Elaine was explaining to her how she had gotten interested in it when Andrew stepped out of the subway station and walked up the steps to the post office. She interrupted Elaine abruptly, almost yelling.

"That's him!," she cried, pointing to him.

"Are you sure?," Elaine asked, picking up a pair of binoculars and training them on the slim young man.

"He pretended to be my friend, then raped me," she said flatly, her eyes never leaving him. "I'm sure." Elaine nodded and keyed her radio.

"Tall blonde man, Caucasian, wearing a blue windbreaker and jeans. He just walked from the subway and is now entering the post office."

The radio crackled a second later. "We see him." Elaine smiled at Debbie and she felt her heart rate increase. They had him!

A minute later, the radio crackled again and a woman's hushed voice said, "He opened the box and retrieved several envelopes. He's moving back toward the exit."

Elaine keyed her mike. "Copy that. Are you ready, Frank?" Frank was one of the detectives in the subway station.

"I copy. We saw him get off the train. We won't lose him."

A moment later, Andrew left the post office and entered the subway station. After what seemed an eternity to Debbie, Frank's voice barked from the radio. "He's getting on the east bound train. We're right behind him."

Elaine acknowledged his transmission and started the car. "Now what?," Debbie asked as they pulled away from the curb.

"He got on the east bound train. We'll follow it's route up here until Frank tells us where he gets off. There are two other cars doing the same thing." She glanced over and smiled. "Don't worry. He's not going to get away!" They drove in the general direction of the subway train. Every few minutes Frank would check in to keep them appraised. The minutes seemed like hours as they waited for word on where he got off. Then the radio crackled.

"He just exited the train at the West Island Station!"

"Copy that!," Elaine replied, squealing the tires as she made an abrupt turn to get them to the West Island station. "Our ETA is two minutes!" She made another turn and said, "it's only a couple of blocks from here, but we won't get too close in case he recognizes the car from the post office. We don't want to spook him before he leads us to the others." Debbie just nodded a reply, too excited and nervous to speak.

The radio came to life. "He's walking south on Fifty-third." They sat in silence as the moments ticked away. Finally, Frank said, "We've got him! He just went into an old warehouse . . .uhhh . . .number 10358 Fifty-third Street!"

Debbie sucked in her breath. "They took us to a warehouse . . . with a deep basement. All the rooms were down there." Elaine nodded. Debbie and Michelle had both described Donna's 'studio' to her in separate interviews. Their stories were nearly a perfect match, and more importantly, the warehouse Andrew had ducked into also matched their description.

Elaine picked up the mike. "Let's all meet one block west. I want the building surrounded. Cover all the exits. No one gets out." Several officers acknowledged her order and he radio came to life as they coordinated their surveillance.

When they arrived at the meeting area, three other unmarked cars were already there with a total of seven plainclothes cops. Elaine pulled up and rolled down her window. Frank leaned in.

"We've got one garage door on this side and a man door on the other where our mark went in," he said, pointing in the direction of the two entrances. "There are a couple of other doors and several ground floor windows, but they're all boarded up. Those two doors seem to be the only way in or out."

"Good work," Elaine replied. "Do you have the warrant? Is backup ready?"

Frank held up a piece of paper and nodded. "They're waiting for our signal."

Elaine took a deep breath and looked over at Debbie in the passenger seat. "Are you ready?" She nodded. "Then let's do it!" Two of the cars roared off to cover one entrance. Elaine remained in the car with Debbie while Frank and two detectives went over to the man door next to the garage door. They were about to kick it open when it was suddenly opened from the inside and a very startled looking man, who Debbie knew as Mike, found himself staring into the barrels of three Glock nine millimeter pistols. He raised his hands automatically and one of the detectives holstered his gun, spun him around against the wall, frisked and handcuffed him. He read him his rights as he led him over to Elaine's car.

"I said, do you understand your rights, scumbag!," the detective was saying to him.

"Yes!," Mike replied. "Do you understand police brutality?" The detective ignored that comment. "Think you could babysit this dirtbag while we go see if his friends are home?" Elaine agreed and he pushed him into the back seat. Debbie turned to look at him through the plexiglass shield.

"Hello, Mike," she said, fixing him with a flat stare. He jumped at the mention of his name and his eyes grew wide as he recognized Debbie. But he quickly fixed a sullen look on his face and stared out the window.

"My name ain't Mike and I ain't done nothin'!," he said. Debbie continued to stare at him for a few seconds, then turned around and looked out the windshield. Elaine smiled to herself. She was one cool little girl to be able to face her rapist so calmly.

A few minutes later, the radio crackled. "We found the elevator, but we need a key and a PIN number to operate it."

Debbie gestured toward Mike. "He's got a key and he knows the number."

Elaine looked at him in the rear view mirror. "Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way, Michael?"

He snuffed indignantly. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

Elaine grinned. "Ok, the hard way, then!" She winked at Debbie. "Here's the deal. You are going to jail. That is a certainty. For a long time." She paused, letting him absorb her words, then continued. "Now, you're a pretty good looking guy. If the other inmates were to somehow discover that you were serving time for multiple child rapes, I think it will give the term 'hard time' a whole new meaning, don't you think?"

Mike swallowed a big lump in his throat. "I didn't rape no kids!"

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Hello! I'm right here, asshole! After what you and your friends did to me, I might not be a kid anymore, but I sure as hell was when you made me suck your filthy cock!"

Mike was silent for a long moment. He seemed to realize that they had him and said, "What if I cooperate . . . can we cut a deal?"

"No deals," Elaine said firmly without hesitating. "All I can do is promise not to spread any rumors about your sexual preferences around the cell block."

Mike sighed dejectedly and leaned his head against the back of the seat. "It's on the chain around my neck."

"And the PIN code?," Elaine asked.

"Two-eight-seven-three," he replied.

Elaine retrieved the key and called for someone to come and get it. When a detective came over to get it, Elaine said, "Do me a favor, Rick. Bring them all out this door." The detective smiled and nodded, then ran back into the warehouse. A few minutes later, Frank said over the radio, "The key and PIN number worked. We're going down."

"Copy that," Elaine replied. "I'm calling in backup!" She switched frequencies and gave the signal for the marked cruisers and paddy wagons to roll in, then switched back to Frank's frequency. Ten long minutes passed before they heard any more from Frank. His voice was excited and they could hear other voices in the background.

"We've got about nine suspects and maybe a dozen very scared young girls in here! All clear!"

"Roger that! Good work!" She beamed at Debbie, who couldn't stop herself from grinning broadly. "We got them!"

"I hope Carrie and Katie are all right," Debbie said, her smile fading. The patrol cars had arrived a few minutes earlier and Mike had been put into another car for transport to jail.

Elaine thought for a moment, then said, "Do you want to go in and see if we can find them?"

Debbie's face lit up. "Could we?!"

Elaine laughed. "Sure. Frank said it's all clear. Let's go!" She put her arm around Debbie's shoulders and they both went inside. Debbie paused at the foot of the stairs, remembering the first time she had been here.

"Are you ok?," Elaine asked, pausing on the bottom step. Debbie took a deep breath and stepped up behind her.

"Yeah, just a lot of bad memories. I'll be ok." They went up the stairs and through the door at the top to the hallway where the elevator was. A uniformed officer was standing guard at the elevator doors. He nodded to Elaine, but gave Debbie a doubtful look.

"It's ok. My responsibility," Elaine told him and he stepped aside so they could get in. As the elevator moved downward, Debbie's emotions were in a turmoil. She was excited about hopefully rescuing Carrie and Katie, but was terrified at the thought of seeing Donna's cold eyes again. Then there was the possibility that Donna may not have been there when the police raided. Or that Carrie and Katie may have been sold like her and Michelle and weren't there.

The elevator stopped, interrupting her thoughts. She took a deep breath as the doors slid open. The familiar carpeted hallway stretched out before her. Several uniformed and plainclothes cops milled about and everyone seemed to be talking at once. Elaine stepped out. Debbie hesitated a second, then followed her. Elaine spoke to a detective and he pointed her toward a door. She took Debbie's hand.

"This way, Debbie. The girls are all in here." They walked toward an door maybe twenty feet down the hall. As they passed an open door, Debbie heard a voice that sent shivers down her spine.

"I know my rights! And I want my lawyer!" Debbie stopped and looked through the doorway. Donna was sitting on a bed, her hands handcuffed behind her back, arguing with one of the detectives. She was facing away from the door and didn't see Debbie walk in, with Elaine following close behind her. She stopped just inside the door. Donna was cursing and swearing, threatening to sue, and basically being a bitch. The detective she was yelling at looked over her head at Elaine and shook his head.

"Ths . . . lady . . . claims she was only here looking at the place to possibly rent it. Says she had no idea what they were doing down here."

Donna turned around. "That's right! I'm innocent and I want . . ." She stopped talking when she saw Debbie staring coldly at her.

"It's over, Donna. And you're going to pay for what you did to us," Debbie said quietly, never taking her eyes off Donna's. She looked up at the detective she was yelling at. "She's the boss. She gave all the orders." She looked back down at Donna, who was glaring at her. "The stare won't work, Donna. I'm not afraid of you anymore." She moved a little closer, her movements slow and deliberate. Her hands were steady. Donna laughed and looked up at Elaine.

"Well, well! Who is this little wench? Some street whore you dug up to frame me?" Debbie held her eyes on Donna's.

"It won't work, you evil bitch. You're going to jail for the rest of your miserable fucking life and I hope someone reams your tight ass with a broomstick at least once a day!" With that, Debbie held her gaze for a few more seconds, then turned and walked out. Donna's mouth dropped open and the detective stifled a laugh. Elaine was amazed that Debbie had the resolve to even face her, and was more than a little impressed with her speech! She shook her head, chuckling. This was one tough little girl!

Debbie walked down to the room where all the abducted girls were and paused at the door. Taking a deep breath, she went in. There were maybe a dozen young girls in various skimpy costumes all being questioned by different police officers. She recognized Zoe, Jessica, and Darlene from the movie she had started with them.

"Debbie!" She turned to see Carrie running toward her. Katie spun around and was soon chasing her across the room. They embraced, laughing and crying, all trying to talk at once. Elaine walked over and stood watching them, a smile on her face. A plainclothes cop came over to her.

"I need to finish debriefing those two," he said.

Elaine slapped his shoulder. "Aw, leave them alone. They're not going anywhere for a while." She walked over to Debbie. "I see you found your friends!," she said, smiling. Debbie smiled up at Elaine, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"But Donna told us they sold you to a street pimp for disobeying!," Katie was saying. "We didn't know you were still here!"

Debbie shook her head. "I was . . . me and another girl, Michelle. But we escaped and came back for you!"

Elaine squeezed Debbie's shoulders. "Debbie's the reason we found you. She's one hell of a detective!"

Carrie and Katie stared at her, wide-eyed. "Really?," Carrie said. "You did this!?" Debbie shrugged and looked down.

Elaine laughed. "Now, now! Don't be shy! You're a hero!" She explained what happened to Carrie and Katie. As she did, a few other girls drifted over, listening to the story of their rescue. When she was finally wrapping up the story, all of the girls were listening intently.

Katie took her hands in hers and looked her in the eyes. "You did all that . . . for us?" Debbie, embarrassed by all the attention, merely shrugged.

"Well, you guys are my best friends! I couldn't just leave you here with that bitch!" She looked around at the others. She recognized a few of them; most she didn't know. She did know the scared look on their faces, though. "I couldn't leave any of you here, for that matter!" She grinned at Carrie and Katie. "I really nailed that skank, didn't I!"

A loud cheer went up and all the girls ignored the police officers trying to interview them and clustered around Debbie, thanking her with hugs and slaps on the back. One of the cops walked over and stood by Elaine.

"You realize now that we'll have to start over," he said, watching the cheering, giggling girls.

Elaine watched them celebrate for a few seconds before answering.

"Yeah, but look at them. It's not that big of a deal to start over, is it?"

The officer looked at them, then smiled. "No," was all he said before going back to the other detectives.

- The End -


     

[Note: this story is protected by international copyright law,
all rights not expressly waived are reserved by its author.]

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