“Oh, there it is,” she realized with no further explanation, then snatched up the bags and took them to her room.The PartyAs suspected, Mom and Da...’s party was a flatliner, a bunch of chubby middle-managers in sweaters and polo shirts, laughing too hard at racist jokes while their wives dished about celebrities and complimented each other on their latest attempts too look young. There were a few other children there, but they were all as stuffy as the parents and after a few quick forced. But I didn't know who or what. Instead I asked, "So?"The detective Davies leaned over towards me, "So, talk to me boy. You andyour friends tore her clothes off, tied her up, raped her and then lefther to die." Hot tempered I responded, "I didn't have anything to do with that." And Imeant it. I mean, I might tear her clothes off, I might even beat her,but not rape. And most certainly I wouldn't leave her to die. Hey, I maybe a bad boy and cruel, but even I have my limits.Meshinger asked, "Any. ."My mother looked at me in silence, then started smiling and, damned if I didn't notice, opened her legs a little wider."You mean people who are related?" Well... yeah. I mean... is it so strange that, for instance when you have a gorgeous brother, or sister, that you fantasize about them?" Of course not. Like your father and I always told you, fantasies belong to you. Nobody gets hurt with them. And you don't even need consent. So you can think or fantasize of anybody and anything you want.". I checked you out through the glass door and you looked pretty respectable…well I guess Ted Bundy did too. You were dressed well, I didn’t miss the designer suit, the custom made shirt, the expensive tie or the Coach loafers. The car is certainly not the economy model. The smile and your eyes said you were probably a good guy. Tell me, is there a Mrs. Jack Martin or are there any little Martins out there somewhere?’ ‘Regrettably, no, Kayla. I just haven’t had time, work and making money have.