Sherry's Story

The Interrogation

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything to do with the Sin City franchise, etc. Special thanks to jlclarke for the review!

lll

I felt nothing when Ben opened the car door for me and helped me out. I felt nothing when I heard the heavy door of the police station slam shut behind me. I felt no emotion when John Hardigan took my elbow and led me to the interrogation room.

“Can Ben come too?” I asked.

John shook his head. “No, but you can see him when you come out. After you’re done, I’ll have to question him as well.”

“Why does it have to be you? Can’t someone else do it?”

“No, I have to because Ben is one of my oldest friends and I would know better than anyone if he’s lying…”

My temper flared up. “How dare you call Ben a liar!”

John put up his hand and I fell silent. “Look Sherry, the longer we stand here debating the issue, the longer this whole thing will drag on. If you want a lawyer, it is your right to have one present when you are being questioned.”

I gnawed the inside of my lip as I thought it over. When I was a kid, my dad told me over and over again that asking for a lawyer during questioning was not an admission of guilt. It was ironic that the best defense lawyer I could have asked for was now lying six feet underground, becoming a worm feast because of me. It took all my willpower not to smile at the thought. “I don’t need one.”

“Let’s start from the beginning, Sherry. I know the party started at seven. When did Richard start talking to you?”

“As soon as I came in the door. Jones was the one who escorted me.”

“During the course of the evening, did Richard make any interesting comments that you can remember? Did he talk to anyone in particular?”

I grimaced. “He was the host, after all. He spoke to a lot of people but I didn’t pay attention…I wanted to dance.”

“What time did you leave the party with the deceased?”

“I didn’t have a watch, so I don’t know. I was pretty drunk.”

“So I’ve heard. If you had to approximate the time, what would you say?”

“About ten thirty, eleven o’clock.”

“How long were you in the study until the arrival of Don Battaglio?”

This question I could answer completely truthfully. “Not long. About thirty minutes or so.”

“Why did you leave?”

I scoffed. “The Don told me that he had business with Richard and that I should leave because women had ‘no place in business discussions.’ Asshole.”

John’s mouth twitched as he suppressed a smile. “Where did you go when he got there?”

“I grabbed something to eat at the midnight buffet.”

“And what did you do afterward?”

“I went back into the study. Richard and I talked.”

“Then what?”

“I felt sick. I rushed outside because I knew Richard well enough to know that he wouldn’t like it if I got sick in his house, especially in front of his guests. Do you remember the rug in his study?”

John nodded and whistled. “I sure did. Persian, I think.”

I nodded. “He liked to own expensive things and I knew he’d be royally pissed if I barfed on it. My nausea came on so quick, that even if I ran full speed, I never would have made it to the bathroom in time. My only choice was to run outside but I still managed to puke all over myself.” I knew I was on shaky ground and I had to watch every word I said. “I sat there for a while. The next thing I remember is waking up in the card room.” I fingered my chin.

“Who might have had a grudge against Richard? Did he ever tell you who might want him dead?”

“The only name he specifically mentioned was Roarke’s.” That certainly was true. Richard told me many times how much the Senator hated him. The feeling was mutual and I couldn’t imagine Roarke losing any sleep over his rival’s death.

“Did Richard ever discuss his business with you? You know, pillow talk?”

“No. I did ask him once and he said that the less I knew about his affairs, the safer I’d be.”

“It sounds like he cared for you.”

The statement was like a knife through my heart. We did care about each other a great deal once upon a million years ago. “He was married…but I was nothing more than a whore to warm his bed when he was horny.”

“That’s not what I heard. And you just contradicted yourself by saying that. If you were just his bed warmer, he wouldn’t have given a damn about he said around you.”

“So? What difference does that make now? Sometimes men just want a woman to listen to him. I gave him what his wife wouldn’t. She was too busy with her charities and maintaining her place at the top of Sin City’s elite social circles to pay attention to his needs.”

“Your relationship went deeper than just sex, didn’t it?”

“Yes. After a while, I began to think of him as a friend, not just a customer.” I felt no shame at what I had been, but I felt no pride either.

“Richard dropped everything and came to your bedside when you tried to kill yourself, didn’t he?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes.”

“Did you love him?”

I hated saying the words, but I had to be honest. “I thought I did. But once I met Ben, I realized who it was that I really loved.”

“I’d like you to take a look at these,” John said, sliding a large file folder across the interrogation desk towards me. He opened it and as soon as I saw what was inside, I hurled the folder on the floor. In all the hubbub of the last week, I had forgotten about the intimate photos of Richard and myself. “We found these under the sofa in the study. You want to talk about it, Sherry?” John asked, his tone gentle.

“When Ben was in Korea, Richard came over to dinner one night. I’d had too much to drink…and it’s all there,” I said, gesturing to the photos that were now on the floor. “Richard sent those to Ben on our wedding night. Ben got angry and…”

“He raped you, and you lost the baby you were carrying,” John finished softly.

I nodded my head. I couldn’t see Hardigan’s face through the blur of my tears.

“It still hurts, doesn’t it?”

I wasn’t sure if he was referring to being raped or losing my unborn baby and I nodded my head again. Ben would never know the full extent of his actions when he took me by force. I would take those never-ending feelings of betrayal and hurt to my grave.

“Richard set you up for his own gain. He betrayed your trust. He was responsible for your miscarriage. From any woman’s point of view, those are two very good reasons for wanting him dead.”

“No matter how angry I was, killing Richard wouldn’t have brought my baby back.” I wanted to change the subject but John did it for me.

“I would like to ask you something else: have you heard from your stepfather?”

“What?” I wasn’t aware that I screeched. The question came out of left field like a lightning bolt from a clear blue sky. I was completely unprepared. I could feel the blood drain from my face and I heard a buzzing noise in my ears that reminded me of the morning I lost my baby. John was watching me carefully—he couldn’t help but notice my reaction. I took several deep, steady breaths and I felt better.

There was no sense lying to him if I could help it. “I haven’t seen or heard from my Uncle Tom in a while now.” Which certainly was true: the last time I saw him was at the carnival, being put into the backseat of his own cruiser. “Why?”

John Hardigan shrugged. “I was just asking.”

“Let me tell you about my relationship with my stepfather. When my mother was dying of cancer and he couldn’t fuck her anymore, he’d come to my bed while she was zonked out on painkillers. He raped me. He even fucked me against the wall on the day of her funeral. That night, he was going to come after me again. With my mother dead and buried, there would be no one to stop him. Unless I wanted to be raped on a daily basis, I had to leave. When he came to my room, I was ready for him. I knocked him out with a lamp, stole his wallet, and bought a bus ticket here. Rita found me and that’s when I started my life as a whore.”

“I’m sorry, Sherry. I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.” I folded my arms and glared at my interrogator.

“Tom Dekker hasn’t been seen or heard of in Granite Falls for quite some time. I’ve been in contact with the police department there.”

“Has Uncle Tom been looking for me?” I was careful to refer to that rat bastard in the present tense. It had to look like I thought he was still alive.

“Yes, but he didn’t have any luck. Then about two months ago, he got a report that you were here and…um, earning a living as a prostitute. He asked for a leave of absence and came here to find you and bring you back to Granite Falls. That’s the last time anyone has heard from him.”

“Like I said, the last time I saw him, he was knocked out. And you can put this on record: I do not want to see that bastard ever again.” Since Uncle Tom was dead and had been underwater for nearly two months, it was no lie when I said I never wanted to see him again!

John smiled. “I’ve done some investigating on my own. Your Uncle Tom was as dirty a cop as I’ve ever heard—taking kickbacks, misplacing or destroying evidence when it suited his purpose. Cops like him give the rest of us a bad name. I told them I would keep an eye out for you, but I never said I’d let them know where you were.” He scribbled a few notes on his notepad and snapped it shut. “That’s all the questions I have for you, Sherry.”

My curiosity got the better of me. It had been niggling at the back of my mind like a persistent itch that I couldn’t reach. John hadn’t mentioned it yet but I couldn’t resist bringing it up. “What about what you mentioned on the phone?”

John shook his head. “That was something else. Something I’ve never seen in all my years as a cop. Are you sure you want to know? It’s…horrible.”

After a build-up like that, I wanted to know more than anything. I nodded my head. I wondered what it was as I watched John leave the room. He returned a moment later with another file folder tucked under his arm. He gave me the folder but didn’t say anything. I looked at the pictures and frowned, trying to digest what I was seeing. It was a small, furnished living room. Other pictures showed a bedroom with a canopy bed, a bathroom, and a small eating area. Another photo showed a closet full of women’s clothes. What could be horrible about this?

“I don’t get it,” I said. “It looks like a cheap apartment.”

“It is and it isn’t. We found this room in the cellar of Richard’s estate. It was for you. The clothes had shoes are all in your size. The magazines and books were something that only a teenage girl like would want to read. Since you were the only teenage girl in Kershaw’s life, I put two and two together. There were other clues as well. It’s my professional opinion that he was going to keep you there—against your will.”

“‘Against my will?’ You mean…as a prisoner? How the hell do you know that?”

John guided my attention to the photographs that I hadn’t looked at yet. The ones at the back of the file. Each one showed locks and deadbolts on the outside of the door. There was more. I didn’t know much about electricity but I recognized a fuse box when I saw one and it was located on the same side of the door as the locks; so were several light switches.

As I looked through the pictures, I realized that there were no windows. The implication of that, coupled with the locks and light switches on the wrong side of the door, made me realize the truth: these rooms were a prison, a jail cell, a dungeon.

John’s forehead was furrowed, as if he was puzzled about something. “What I don’t understand is how he thought he was going to get away with it. Surely it must have occurred to him that Ben would look for you.”

I knew exactly how Richard would have succeeded—having Ben executed for the murder of Constable Tom Dekker. Once my husband was dead and buried, there would be no one who would report me as missing.

“All this time, I thought I knew him but I didn’t. I never had a clue who he really was. He told me that even though he cheated on his wife, he loved her. Now I find out he shot her like a dog right between the eyes and he was going to keep me prisoner in his cellar. How could I have been so stupid? How?”

“There’s more.”

There was something in John’s tone that made me stop looking at the photographs and take notice. When I looked up, there was an expression in his eyes that frightened me.

“Adjoining the bedroom, there was a delivery room set up: complete with up-to-date medical equipment as well as a gynecological exam chair. We found a large quantity of drugs as well. Cocaine, painkillers, sedatives…any drug that is used to keep a person controlled and calm was there.”

“Oh God,” I whispered. On the night I killed him, Richard told me he was going to make me bear his children but I hadn’t believed it. His tortured words from another time came back to me, ricocheting through my head like a pinball as it bounced back and forth from the bumpers over and over again.

“Don’t marry Ben, Sherry, marry me!”

He was going to imprison me! He was going to use drugs to control me, to make me do what he wanted! Steel locks on the door imprisoning me. Heavy concrete walls swallowing my screams. Darkness and cold enveloping me as lights and warmth were turned off. Once I was down in that room, I would be at his mercy. Richard was vindictive enough to have denied me food and warmth and light if I displeased him.

My senses began to swirl—sound and sight faded in and out. I felt a rush of air then a burst of pain as my head hit something hard. Dust from an unswept floor filled my nostrils but I was too disoriented to lift my head. The hard concrete floor felt cool under my cheek. I opened my eyes and was surprised to see that everything was sideways. I saw a man’s feet come towards me then move away.

My brain started to play tricks on me and I imagined that Richard was leaving me in this horrible, dank cage. I tried to get to my knees but I was too weak. I arched my neck and saw that the door was closing.

NO!

At all costs, I had to catch the door before it closed and I was left alone in the dark and the cold. I felt the walls closing in, my chest constricting painfully as if as if I were in the deadly clutches of one of those huge snakes in the Amazon who squeezed the life out of their prey before devouring them whole.

Richard would be free to fuck me as many times as his twisted heart desired and there would be no one to stop him. As if it were happening at that moment, I imagined Richard’s heavy, sweaty body on mine, preventing me from moving. Arms tried to restrain me but I fought them off. Richard was going to rape me again. No! I wouldn’t let him, not even if it killed me!

With my last scrap of dwindling strength, I clawed at the pale blur of a man’s face as it hovered above me. But instead of being beaten as I expected, I felt strong arms pick me up. I was gently cradled against a man’s hard, powerful body.

“Breathe for me, babe. Breathe for me…” Ben said softly. Against all the odds, despite Richard’s best efforts at keeping me hidden, Ben had found me! I wanted to obey my husband’s request to breathe, but I couldn’t. My mouth gaped open and shut like a goldfish out of water.

“She’s turning blue! We need a goddamn doctor now!” someone shouted. Dimly I heard pandemonium fill the room. I was dying but I wasn’t afraid. My life was going to end in the only place in the world where I felt completely safe: the arms of the love of my life.

“No, I got it,” Ben said, interrupting my thoughts. He took a deep breath that reverberated through his chest and pinched my nostrils shut before lowering his mouth onto mine, sealing it. He didn’t kiss me as I expected…instead, he blew life-giving air deep into my lungs. He withdrew, releasing my nose and I coughed as I finally obeyed my body’s instinctive, desperate command to breathe. I arched my back, gasping, trying to take in as much air as I could as fast as possible.

“Nice and slow. Easy does it. In and out…there you go, you’re doin’ fine.” His voice was calm and steady and I felt at peace. “Hardigan, get her some water, will ya?”

A short time later, I felt a glass of cool water being pressed gently against my lips. “Drink up, babe.” Ben held the glass until I had drunk my fill. Sense and sanity eventually returned to my body and mind. I was so weak that if I told myself to lift a hand to save my life, I would be unable to do it.

“Is it all right if I take her home now?”

I opened my eyes and saw John Hardigan squatting on the floor on the other side of me. His face was a chalky white and his head bobbed as he nodded. He wiped his glistening forehead with a hand that shook. “Yeah. I’m done here. You’re both free to go.”