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Holly went to Harvard. For the two years that followed, I heard nothing more of her or from her, despite the fact that we were off at school in the same city.In September of my junior year, I was in a sports bar watching the Red Sox on TV on a Friday night. They were in the middle of a heated pennant race. I had become a rabid fan, a member of Red Sox Nation."Howdy, stranger!" rang out a female voice across the bar. I looked down from the flat screen TV and saw a nice pair of not-so-flat boobs. There was plenty of cleavage showing from under a clingy floral print cotton top. I'd recognize those boobs anywhere.I re-directed my attention to the boob-owner's lovely heart-shaped face, her raven-colored hair framing a pair of intelligent, sparkling blue eyes. Sure enough, it was Holly Grandal. She flashed me a killer smile."Derek! Iss – iss been too l-long!" she cooed with a slur, blowing me air kisses as if we were long-lost lovers. Her words carried the slur of an alcoholic stupor.I. I confirmed them all. Next he wanted to talk about my sex with Gracie, but other than correcting him (“it was really more rape than sex”) I declined to play along. “I did things, she liked it, what is done is done. Those facts will not help you, lives are at risk.” That did not lower his blood pressure.Next we went over the things I had learned since then, about Darnel, and his extreme desire to question Gracie in ways that were not nice. He did not believe anybody would do such a thing, but then I asked what had been found in the basement and he agreed that he was not into sex with “cable ties, dry ice and pliers” like the people I saved Gracie from were. That was when he got around to thanking me for saving GracieÔs life and actually letting her go with a degree of safety and assurance. He admitted that he was very confused about the type of person I was. I suggested “vigilante” but we both knew that did not fit.I did tell him he and I had met, and that I had worked with Dr. Percy.
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