Bannerman's Law Read Online Free PDF

clothing against her body. It seemed that her nakedness should have bothered her more than it did.
    There was a single bright light above the table. A doctor, an older one, was talking to her, asking her questions. Most were about school. The woman with the pitted face was there. And there were other people who came in, looked at her. The woman showed them her recorder and some things from her purse. That was funny. Lisa tried to t hink. It seemed to her that she'd locked the purse in her car.
    The doctor asked if she had family in the area. Did she have a boyfriend? No? Then whose w a rm up suit was that? She did not mind answering.
    One of the men who came in held out his hand for her keys. She tried to see his face but she could not move her head. Then he stepped closer and she recognized him. It was the man in the red sweatshirt except that he had show ered and changed into a sport jacket. It was also the man she'd seen the Sunday before, arguing with the bandaged man.
    With his free hand he reached out to her and, his eyes becoming strange, began exploring her body, feeling the slight mound of her breasts , the flatness of her stomach, touching his fingers to her lips. The woman spoke sharply to him. He stepped back, sighing. Such a waste, she heard him say, as if from a great distance.
    Time passed. Minutes . . . hours, she wasn't sure. The lights came on again. The dream continued. The man who had touched her was back. Asking more questions. Who was her professor? Had he seen any of her work? Had she spoken to him, or anyone, about Sur La M er? Did she have a locker at school and what was its combination? As he asked these things, he sorted through notebooks and papers that Lisa thought she recognized. Yes. They were hers. From he r apartment. He was scanning them, dis carding some, selecting others and making a pile of them on her bare stomach. Next came two yellow Fotomat enve lopes. He went through the photographs that she had taken seven days earlier. He selected several, laying them out across her thighs.
    Her mind was clearing, slowly . This wasn't her bed. And she was not dreaming. The doctor came forward. He held a syringe . But the man she'd seen jogging waved him back. No more, he said. Leave us alone now. The doctor seemed as if he might protest. But he didn't. He left the room.
    “ Go get Nellie ,” she heard him say. “ Bring her down here .”
    “ What good will that do ?” The woman's voice.
    ” I want to be sure. I want to see her face when she sees that we have this girl .”
    “ Henry . . . ” she hesit a ted. “ It's been a week. She probably won't even remember that the girl was here .”
    “ She remembers more than all of you think. Bring her .”
    A pause. “ The Weinbergs are with her. They are watching films .”
    “ So ?”
    “ Mr. Weinberg has . . . asked us ... not to bother her .”
    Henry Dunville bared his teeth. He snatched at one of the photographs, his fingernails gouging the inside of Lisa's thigh. She cried out. He ignored her. He thrust the photograph toward the woman.
    “ Show this to him ,” he hissed, “ and then ask him if he would rather be bothered himself. You might ask him, while you're at it, just who the hell he thinks he is .”
    More time passed. The waves washing over her brain were coming less frequentl y . She could feel her body. It ached in places and burned in others. Her thigh, she thought, was bleeding. The realization that she was nake d—n ot just dream-nake d—b ecame more focused. They could at least have given her a sheet. Not just those papers. She heard voices. Two men. One was much deeper than the other and slightly muffled. Something else about it. She tried to listen but the voices stopped.
    A white mass floated above her. She squinted at it. She saw an eye. Oh, yes. The man with the bandaged head. Same white robe. He was looking, closely, at her face. Then her body. The head stopped above her thighs.
    “ She took these pictures ?”