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HOME >> Product 0491 >> Person of Interest>>

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Person of Interest

Ray Johnson

Since local law enforcement officials had no way of connecting these crimes against women, and were unaware of the crimes in foreign countries, many of them referred to the man as a Person of Interest. Some officials questioned if it was only one man committing these crimes because the modus operandi continued to change from woman to woman. The name used by the suspect also changed from woman to woman, heightening the multiple suspect hypothesis. The nature of the crimes was evolving, with some of the victims never actually seeing the perpetrator. Not being able to describe the suspect, led some agencies to question if the crime actually occurred, thus impugning the victim’s validity.


The description of the Person of Interest varied to the point that the multiple perpetrator hypothesis gained support. The only common denominator in his physical description was that he was tall. Another baffling aspect of the numerous cases was the Person of Interest had access to a new exotic drug that law enforcement was referring to as a compliance drug. It was far more sophisticated that any drug available that merely made the women unconscious. The women remained cognizant, acting normally, but were susceptible to the Person of Interest’s suggestions. This exotic drug allowed the Person of Interest to leave a bar or restaurant with the victim, with no one suspecting anything was amiss. In the past, the military had attempted to develop such a drug for use in combat, but had been unsuccessful. Who could produce such a drug?

The Person of Interest had the financial wherewithal to travel worldwide, with victims as far south as the Lesser Antilles, as far east as Accra in Africa and from New York to Seattle in the US. He confused not only the victims, but also law enforcement, by leaving sums of money with each woman. Local law enforcement was reluctant to request help from the FBI because each crime appeared to be an isolated incident and not of a serial nature. But there was common ground where the victims were concerned: all between twenty-five and forty years old, all somewhere between attractive and stunningly beautiful, and none of the women had children. Would enough evidence ever be gathered where the Person of Interest became a suspect?





67964 Words





Cover Art:

T.L. Davison


W. Richard St. James


Ray Johnson

ISBN Number:


Available Formats:

PDF; Microsoft Reader(LIT); Palm (PDB); Nook, Iphone, Ipad, Android (EPUB); Older Kindle (MOBI);




MAXINE THORPE WAS still groggy from some unknown drug. But one thing she was positive about, she had been raped. She fumbled inside her purse until she located her cell phone. She dialed 911.

“Nine One One operator. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“I’ve…I’ve been raped.”

“Are you at a safe location?”

“I don’t know. I’m in a bedroom and looking outside it appears as if I’m on the fifth or sixth floor.”

“Are you in a hotel or an apartment?”

“I’m…I’m supposed to be in an apartment building, but I don’t recognize this room.”

“If it’s safe, go into the hallway and find out if it’s a hotel or apartment. I’ll need an address before I can send a patrol unit and an ambulance.”

Maxine was in a nasty mood and wondered why the 911 operator could not trace her cell phone. She walked, painfully, through the front room and into the hallway. Her rectum felt as if someone had lit one of those highway flares and shoved it all the way up. It was an apartment building where some of the apartments were being renovated. It was obvious that the only way she was going to get an address was by taking the elevator to the lobby and getting the address off the front of the building.

The 911 operator asked, “Are you still with me?”

“Of course, I am. Did you think I was going to forget I was raped? I have to go to the front of the building to get the address.”

“Be careful because the person who raped you may still be nearby.”

She mused angrily, “They must hire dummies for 911 operators.”

Just as she arrived at the elevator, limping, the bell dinged, and the doors opened. An elderly man stepped out and was startled to see her. “Are…are you alright?”

Maxine snapped, “Do I look like I’m alright? What the hell is the address of this complex?”

“Don’t you know?”

“You nitwit, if I knew, would I be asking?”

“I…I guess you’re right.” He gave her the address.

“What floor are we on?”

He started to ask how she could not know but thought better of it. “This is the fifth floor.”

Maxine returned to her cell phone and gave the 911 operator the address and then added, “Fifth floor.”

“I’ll have a patrol unit and an ambulance headed your way immediately.”

“Tell them not to stop for donuts.” She turned off her phone, rather than to have to answer stupid questions until the police arrived and then answer them all over again.

The man asked, “Was that Nine One One?”

“Do you know anyone else that sends police units and ambulances?”

“I…I guess not.”

Maxine demanded, “Where is everyone?”

“This floor is being renovated and I’m the only occupant. I’ll move to another apartment tomorrow and they’ll start work on my apartment.”

“Did you see a shifty looking man leaving the building?”

“No, I was visiting a friend on the third floor.”

“Damn, no witness.” She returned to the room where she had been raped and looked in her purse. She was still groggy when she went for her cell phone, but she thought she saw cash in her purse. She checked and found six one hundred-dollar bills. First, she did not have six hundred dollars in her purse when she left the office and second, if she did, they would be in a wallet. Another thing that troubled her, she was fully clothed. Not only fully clothed but dressed just as she had been when she left her office. There was no outward sign of a rape.

She was thirty-five, attractive, shapely, with moderate breasts. She was a brunette, and her hair stylist made certain that no traitorous gray strands attempted to sneak in. Her dress and heels were expensive, befitting a successful businesswoman.

She finally heard sirens off in the distance and mumbled, “At least they didn’t stop for coffee.”

She waited for them in the hallway, with the man from the elevator staring at her. She mused, “He’s so old he probably couldn’t even get a hardon, much less rape someone.” She needed to pee and wash her mouth out, but she had always heard never to do either until examined by a doctor.

The patrol unit arrived three minutes before the ambulance. The first officer told her, “We’re responding to a possible rape call. Do you know where the victim is?”

She snapped, “I’m the victim! Why do you think I was waiting here, for a bus?”

“Most…most rape victims have outward signs of trauma and are disheveled with torn clothing.”

“Well this one doesn’t, but I can guarantee that I was raped. And where’s that damn ambulance?”

The officer predicted, “They should be here shortly. They’ll transport you to the hospital and a female officer from Rape Prevention will meet you there.”

“If she’s from Rape Prevention, she isn’t doing her job because I was raped.”

The second officer asked, “Is there some reason you’re bent over?”

“Because some rapist bastard stuck his dick up my bottom and I can barely walk. Now, where’s that ambulance?”

The elevator doors opened, and the two ambulance drivers arrived; pushing a gurney. One asked, “Where’s the rape victim?”

“I’m the victim, you nitwit. Did you think I was limping because the bungee jumping cord broke?”

“It’s just that you don’t look…”

“Don’t even say it! Just get me to a hospital.” She sat down gingerly on the gurney and let out a painful groan.

The first officer mused, “If she was this nasty before the rape, her boyfriend must have done it.” He pretended to be concerned as the ambulance drivers strapped her down.

She growled at the drivers, “Don’t take all night! Get me to the hospital.”




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