Bobby landed at JFK at 9 am. He quickly hailed a taxi to take him to his hotel room to get settled before heading out to continue his investigation into Caroline's assault.

****

Marge was standing at the doorway to the shed. With a drop of a match, she turned and walked away from the gasoline soaked inferno, just as she had done many times before. This time it was personal, the constant reminder of that day her daughter was assaulted would no longer torment her.

She gathered her belongings, tossing them into the trunk of the car. Grabbing her purse, checking the contents, she grabbed her cell phone, dialing the number in her hand.

"Hello, this is Marge Jennings, can we meet somewhere privately " she asked.

****
Bobby opened his laptop, beginning his research among the galleries within the city. He knew it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Two hours later and 50 possibilities, he narrowed it down to one - The Bernarducci Gallery in Chelsea.

He quickly changed into a business suit, wanting to give the appearance of an interested buyer of fine art. His intent was to obtain as much information as possible on the gallery and its owner, the website boasted it's interests and opportunities for upcoming new artists.

He had made arrangements with a buddy of his in Manhattan to provide a towncar and driver to take him to the gallery. Upon arrival the driver opened the door to allow him to exit,  then stood outside the vehicle awaiting his return. Bobby entered the gallery, speaking with a hostess who offered refreshments while he walked around viewing the works of art.

Sipping his drink, he walked around inconspicuously reviewing various works of art. As he entered an adjacent room he discovered what he was looking for, every single piece from Caroline's. He continued to walk around the room, stopping occasionally to reflect on the impact the images emitted. He started to walk  towards the image of Tim when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned as the man spoke "amazing aren't they" he stated as Bobby turned around to face him.

****

"I don't know where to begin" she stated as he handed her a cup of coffee.

"Try the beginning " he replied sitting down across from her.

She briefly hesitated, sipping the hot beverage. "The beginning" she said sarcastically "more like the beginning to the end".

He waited patiently, then listened intently as she revealed her past. Her father had been killed in the war, her mother marrying soon after to a man who had an older son. The son was odd to say the least, his behavior cunning and disturbing. She kept her distance from the boy, never revealing to her mother the things she had observed him do. Finally he too went into the army, giving her relief from his presence, at least for awhile.

Later, after she married she learned of his assignment to the same division as her husband. He'd introduced himself as her brother, gaining the acceptance by her husband as family, using that to his advantage. Still she kept her distance as much as she could. Following her husband where ever he was stationed, for the most part, ensured she wouldn't encounter him often.

Once she became pregnant, she moved stateside to raise their child. Everything seemed perfect, until his dishonorable discharge. He came looking for her, his sister, his family as he lead everyone to believe.

"Why was he discharged" he asked curiously, finishing his coffee.

"They said it was PTSD,  but I knew otherwise. He did things I had seen him do as a child, only now he began to do it to people, mostly women" she told him.

She stopped for a moment, trying to compose herself before revealing anymore.

"Are you alright" he asked as he noticed her shaking hand placing the cup on the table. "Take your time, there's no rush".

"I need to do this, it needs to stop here" she told him as her voice quivered. She continued her explanation of the years that followed his release. His required mental health evaluations and the prescribed medications. She emphasized keeping her distance until that one time, the time her mother passed away and the family gathering afterwards.

She relived that day as she informed him of how walking into the kitchen she found him trying to fondle her 12 yr old daughter. She had yelled at her daughter to run while she slapped him across the face. He laughed at her, the words echoing in her mind "I will have that cherry" as he walked away.

Tears rolled down her face while he handed her a box of tissues. "Would you like to take some time, compose yourself" he asked with concern.

She nodded no, she had to continue or she never would finish. She told him how she pleaded later to leave her daughter alone. He would say nasty things about her daughter and the things he was going to do, making her watch as he did them. She offered herself instead, lieing to him about how attracted she had been to him all those years as they grew up. He compromised by saying 'you let me fuck you whenever I get the urge but when she gets filled out, those perky tits and that cherry is mine '. She agreed, feeling it was the only way to save her daughter from being raped. She described the torture she endured, the beatings, the sexual deviant behavior he demanded from her constantly reminding her if she didn't obey he would carry his desires out on her daughter and reveal everything to her husband.

He sat there, listening to her story, enraged by what she endured to save her child, not knowing what else she was about to reveal.