Perfect Victim by Carla Norton, Christine McGuire

arrest, and that had yielded the head box, the stretcher, and various bondage articles. Now Mcguire obtained another search warrant — the second of what would ultimately be a total of five. Call her compulsive, but Mcguire’s thoroughness would pay off.
    Detective Shamblin and Lieutenant Brown went back to the Hooker residence and seized Hooker’s photographic equipment, a handmade enlarger, a slide rack with candid slides of women, a camera, and lenses. Also, on the bottom of a bedroom drawer, they found two undeveloped rolls of film.
    Back at RBPD they took a closer look at these forgotten rolls and learned that this type of film had been discontinued in 1975.
    The film was so old that it would have to be sent away for special processing by the FBI in Washington, D.C.
    The day before the preliminary hearing, Colleen Stan and her father drove up from Riverside together.
    Mcguire’s first impression was that the victim of the sex slave case didn’t look very slavelike, nor even much like a victim.
    Juries, Mcguire knew, tended to judge people from the outside, and this woman who claimed to have been imprisoned and deprived looked normal, neat, well-fed, and pretty.
    Worse, Mcguire had a feeling Defense Attorney Papendick was going to try to portray Colleen as “the other woman.”
    Unfortunately, she looked the part. Though a year older than Janice, she looked much younger and vastly more attractive. In fact, Mcguire thought she looked too sexy and cheaply dressed in her tight-fitting top, tight pastel jeans, and stiletto heels.
    But there was work to do. Mcguire shook hands with Colleen and then her father, a short, retiring man, and ushered them toward Detective Shamblin’s office. She couldn’t help but notice that both Colleen and her father were distinctly bow-legged, a casual observation that would take on significance only much later.
    There wasn’t time to do as in-depth an interview as they had with Janice Hooker. Mcguire outlined the areas she would cover with Colleen on the stand but, beyond advising her to answer truthfully, didn’t touch on the substance of Colleen’s testimony — that would be coaching, strictly outside the rules. She gave the standard explanation of court proceedings, a few pointers on how to conduct herself on the stand, and let her know what to expect.
    “Don’t be surprised if the defense attorney seems hostile, but don’t get flustered. Just answer his questions as clearly as possible. I’ll object if the questioning is improper,” Mcguire told her.
    Colleen sat very still, amicable and apparently alert yet with a strangely vacant look behind those pretty blue eyes, like a doll on a shelf. Colleen seemed shy, a bit apprehensive, and unnaturally passive. There seemed not an ounce of vengeance in her, which was peculiar in Mcguire’s experience with victims.
    The interview was over in a couple of hours, and then Colleen had an appointment for a physical examination to see if her physical condition corroborated her story.
    As she bid goodbye, Mcguire remembered to suggest that Colleen wear a dress in court tomorrow.
    Once they’d gone, Mcguire turned to Shamblin and said, “You told me to expect her to be quiet, but she and her father were both so docile, they’re like sheep!”
    “Kinda spooky, isn’t it?” Shamblin agreed.
    “Well, maybe they were just tired after that long drive up from Riverside. But I sure hope she’s more animated tomorrow.”
    Who could believe a victim who was so dispassionate about the crimes committed against her? She’d expected outrage, tears, and instead she’d gotten something vexingly close to apathy.
    Moreover, she was amazed to learn that this woman who had allegedly endured years of almost unheard-of deprivation and abuse was now living such an outwardly ordinary life. Wouldn’t you expect she’d have fallen apart? But Colleen seemed to have quickly adjusted to the outside world. She was living with her father and his wife,