She murmured, 'No… Don! Once is enough for a brother and sister… maybe too much! We lost our heads… maybe… but it can never happen, again!'
'It could… if we decided we wanted to! After all… it's the twentieth century! We could be careful… from now on… and nobody'd ever know…'
'B-But… I could get… pregnant… and that would be bad!' she told him with emphasis.
'But…'
Charity swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stood to her feet, reached out for her nightgown and shrugged it over her head. Covered, now, she faced him.
'I–It's no good… Don! I–I really flipped… and I loved every minute of it… but it's impossible! We just can't ever let it happen, again!'
She unlocked the door, went through it and padded back to her own bedroom, leaving her brother lying nude on his bed, a dumbfounded look on his face. She crawled into her own bed and was soon sleeping soundly, again. She was completely satiated, tired and drained. As she settled down in her own bed, she knew how easy it would have been for her to remain in Don's bed, letting him fuck her the rest of the night. Dear God! It had taken all of her will-power to leave him, for she knew that she was a fully aroused woman, now; a woman who would have definite sexual needs. Certainly, her wonderful brother could serve those needs, but the built-in taboos of civilized man were too deeply ingrained in her. Incest! My God! She had been a party to it once… But never… never, again, she vowed would it happen between them. She loved him too much!
Charity did not awaken when her mother came into her bedroom, gazed down at her for a moment, leaned down and kissed her smooth, tranquil brow and lips; however, a few moments later she was awakened by a sudden, sharp sound.
She sat up, listening; it was the front door of the house. I had opened and shut, noisily, as it always did. The first rays of the sun streamed into her bedroom through the window, as outside, in the driveway, she heard her mother's car start, its engine cold and coughing in the early morning chill. Idly, Charity wondered where her mother might be going so early. She started to get out of bed to investigate when she spotted the envelope addressed to her in her mother's small but flowing script. With pounding heart she ripped open the letter and read it. She read it through twice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jack Belleson came charging into the police building in downtown Redfern. He was bellowing angry words as he approached the night desk.
'What kind of a God damned town you got here? Nobody's safe here! I was just robbed! The son-of-a-bitch got $79.00!'
The desk-sergeant looked up at him, levelly, and asked, 'Do you want to make a report, Sir?'
'You're damned right! And, then I want you to do something about it!'
'I realize you're disturbed, Sir… and I'd appreciate it if you'd calm down and give me the details…'
His pen was poised ready to write.
'Calm down? Why for Christ's sake… my life was threatened… and you say calm down!'
'Yes, Sir… otherwise, I can't make heads or tails out of what you're saying!' The sergeant's voice was steely. 'Your name, Sir?'
'Jack Belleson…'
'Your age…'
'What the hell's my age got to…?'
'Your age… Sir?'
'Forty-six.'
'Occupation?'
'Salesman… When do I get to tell you what hap…'
'What time did this happen?'
'A little after one…'
'Can you describe the person… or persons?'
'A kid… on a motorcycle… I couldn't see his face…'
'How old would you say?'
'Sixteen… seventeen…'
'The make of the motorcycle?'
'I didn't notice… but come to think of it… it was covered up!' the salesman said.
'Did you notice the license tag?'
'No!'
'Weapon?'
'A pistol… sort of short, snub-nosed…'
The questioning went on, until the sergeant was satisfied that he had a complete report. 'We don't have too much to go on… there're probably two or three hundred kids ride motor bikes in the area… but we'll start checking out some things on these.'
'You're not going to put out a bulletin on it call your cruisers on the radio?'
'What… and stop every kid riding a motorcycle, tonight?'
'Sure… round them up?'
The sergeant looked at him in disbelief, shook his head and said, 'Mister… we can't work like that… in this country!'
'What do you mean…?' The salesman didn't understand.
'This is Redfern, California… U.S.A.'
'Then, you're not going to do anything…?'
'I didn't say that! I said that we're not going to go out and bring in every teen-age kid who happens to be riding a motorcycle!'
'I know you said that, but…'
'Because… Mister Belleson… It's only a coincidence that the boy who robbed you… was also riding a motorcycle! We'll be checking out on it, tomorrow!' The sergeant turned away to attend to a trivial matter on his desk.
'Is that all…?'
'Yes, Sir!'
'Christ… I'm in your town a few hours and three violent things happen to me! I still want to know… what kind of a crazy town this is?'
'Do you have something else to report?'
'Oh, well… that other thing's been taken care of…' the salesman backtracked. 'Some fellow name of Scott punched me in the jaw!'
'Have you preferred charges?'
'Well… I was supposed to come down here to do that tomorrow… I mean this morning… but I'm not so sure I want to spend another minute in the fucking town!'
'Then… you want to drop charges against Mr. Scott?'
'Hell no! I want him kept locked up!'
'We can't do that without formal charges?'
'I'll be a son-of-a-bitch… what can you do?'
'Prosecute him… when proper charges have been made against him!'
'Then, if I leave… nothing happens to him?'
The desk-sergeant surveyed the salesman with disdain. 'That's right! Gabby'll just get dried out, again…'
'Gabby?'
'Mr. Scott… he's been with us, before.'
