Tales From The Psych Ward 07 - Again a Witness

There was a much longer pause. "He is huh? How long ago? Well he is going to wake up in a few minutes and a few minutes after that an officer is going to be there to pick him up. Have him ready for an overnight stay."

He looked up and spoke to Wayne. "You can both go. I don't know how this works. I don't want to know how this works. I don't care how this works, but Nutbag better be awake and ready when that officer gets there."

Four hours later, I was sitting in a lock-down cell in the basement of the station house. Two officers had been assigned to "suicide watch" and were told that I was an important "material witness" in the Roadside Rapist case and that they had better have at least one set of eyes on me every minute of their shift. They were also to radio Mendes immediately if I suddenly went catatonic.

A little after 1:30 in the morning I was no longer in the cell. One instant I was staring at the clock through the observation window, the next I was standing in front of the club holding something and shouting to passing cars and pedestrians. I could tell by the feel that I was wearing the full-body cat suit, including face mask. Why no one seemed to notice me seemed strange.

I was very anxious about something until Sargent Conrad came out of the club. Then I felt a wash of relief. He was alone. I walked toward him as he handed a parking stub to the valet. I heard a woman's voice - my voice - speaking. "Do you want some after hours action at a really hot club?"

Conrad ignored me, and in a few moments his car came gliding up to the curb. Before the valet could get out of the car, I leaned my sign against the back portion of the car and set my satchel next to the sign. As I bent over, I could see that I was wearing a bright pink, leather, mini-skirt over the cat suit. I could also see that the sign read, "Kit Kat Klub" in bright pink letters and had a red arrow on it. No wonder no one looked at me twice. I was just a living billboard for the Kit Kat Klub - and who really pays any attention to billboards - even one that is dressed in a full-body cat suit.

I pulled some leaflets out of the bag and rapidly stuck one under the windshield wiper of the car. "I told you about that," yelled the valet. "As long as you stay on the sidewalk and twirl your damn sign, I can't do nothing, but once you touch a client's car, I have the right to ask you to leave."

"But if I don't put flyers under the windshield wipers, I don't get paid," I whined. "I only do it once, just before I leave, so you can complain about me again to my boss. We both win. You get rid of me, and I get paid."

As we were talking, Sargent Conrad paid the valet and walked around to the driver's side of the car. As he started to get in, I yelled to him, "Give me a second to get my sign and stuff picked up... Please!?"

He paused, and in the brief moment that he was waiting, I slipped a black box our of my bag and stuck it under the wheel well above the tire. It made a slight thud as the magnet clung to the car body, but since I was moving the sign at the same time, the valet didn't notice. The valet also did not notice that there was now a small black tube sticking slightly out of the wheel well and it was pointed toward the edge of the tire. "Thank you," I called as I picked up my sign and bag.

As Conrad drove off, I hurried to my car and followed after him. As I followed him, I looked down at the box on the seat next to me. There were two buttons. One was labeled "Trigger." The other was labeled "Release."

Conrad took the route that had been set up for him out of town toward a little used county road. I - we - followed a little ways behind. Shortly after he started down a rather dark portion of the road, my hand reached out and pressed the "Trigger" button. There was a flash and a pop and the Sargent's car swerved a little and began to slow down. After he was stopped and was starting to get out of the car, I pulled up and cheerfully asked, "Is there a problem?"

Conrad had been instructed to "act dumb," so he approached the car and leaned over to say through window, "Just a flat. I've got a spare so I'll be OK in a few min..." His words were cut off by the twang of the Tazer hitting him in the chest. Before he could recover, I was around the car and jabbing him with the hypo.

I could hear her thoughts. "You don't have a sub, but you don't care about those of us who don't have a master, do you? Well, I'm going to show you what it is like to be a sub." The hunger I had been feeling wasn't the hunger of a hunter for the prey. It was the hunger of a sub for a master.

I pulled him over in front of the car and cut his cloths from him. As I put them in the red bag, I could see that it said "Bio Hazard" in bold, black letters and had the international biohazard symbol on it. It was a hospital waste bag, and everything in it would be incinerated at 2000 degrees once I dropped it off at the disposal area in the hospital. There would be no physical evidence left by morning.

I threw the rope through the car and used it to pull Sargent Conrad up onto the hood. I ran back to my car and returned with a tube of anal lube. "I don't know if you are going to enjoy this, but I am. Wayne, you don't care what I want, so I don't care what you want. And the same goes for your girlfriend, Kelly."

I was trying to comprehend why she would be calling him "Wayne" - and why she would mention "Kelly" - when Conrad loudly gasped and yelped as she drove into him. She started to say something to him, but froze as he yelled out loudly, "Converge! Converge! Converge!" Suddenly everything was brightly illuminated by multiple handheld floodlights from the surrounding fields.

Mendes was at the lead of a group of male and female officers running behind the lights who grabbed me and threw me to the ground. Someone threw a blanket over the Sargent and started cutting him loose. He yelled loudly, "Next time your bait is unconscious and being stripped naked, just come on in. You could see what was going on. There was no Goddamned need to wait for the code word or the override."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Mendes calmly. "I assume you don't want to figure at all in the collar tonight, Conrad?"

"It's all yours," he replied curtly.

Detective Mendes hustled me into the back of a waiting squad and we headed back into town. By the time we arrived, the news media had already gathered. Someone had tipped them that there had been an arrest in the Roadside Rapist case. Reporters were screaming questions and camera flashes were illuminating the night as he walked me toward the doors of the police station. A camera flash went off directly in my eyes, and then I was back in my cell staring at the clock. It was now a little after three.

Shortly after nine in the morning Detective Mendes came down to the lock-down cell. "We are sending you back to the ward. It appears that your testimony will not be needed."

He threw a copy of the morning paper onto the table in front of me. It proclaimed in a very large headline, "Detective Mendes Catches Another One!" Beneath the headline was a picture of him perp-walking Dr. Susan Barrington into the police station. They had removed the external dildo, but she was still wearing the skin-tight, full-body cat suit. Every detail of her body was clearly visible. That was one news photo that was going to circulate on the internet for a long, long time.

Suddenly, I understood. Wayne never came back to her after that first night. He released her inner sub in a night of wild sex at the club, but then he left her abandoned. She snapped. In her deranged state, she was trying to force a Master or Mistress to subdue her by becoming a threat to them. I said out loud, "She's crazier than I am."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," muttered Mendes. Then he pointed to the third paragraph of the article. There Mendes answered a reporter's question about how he was able to catch the Roadside Rapist by saying, "It was solid police work, a little luck, and a confidential informant who recognized the technology involved and told us what we probably should be looking for. I can't identify that informant, but I want to publicly thank him."

I looked up at him and he shrugged. "It's the most acknowledgment you are ever going to get. I still think you are a nutbag, but you are a nutbag that knows things that no one else knows."

I answered, "Thank you Detective Mendes. You have your reality and I have mine, and now I know that you know that sometimes they are the same."

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END OF STORY

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