She struggled weakly as he reached down and caressed her legs from the outside of each knee down to her small, firm buttocks and tugged her toward him...confidently. Leaning forward he used his chest to keep her legs apart and stroked the tender folds of skin, then spread them and stroked what lay beneath with the index finger of his other hand. Though she quivered and struggled with what was left of her strength she could no more dislodge him than she could free herself of her bonds. All. She may have been in on it. He beat me and stole my clothes.”“I guess you’ll stick with that bullshit story,” the Sheriff tossed the shoebox to him.Holding the box, he felt its weight. Len feared to look inside himself. No, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.“That’s your gun, billfold, and badge. You won’t be wanting the clothes back, there to blood-stained. We killed a bastard last night out on Old Lame Owl road. A big feller about my size, who looked, a smidgen, like you. Routine traffic. More

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