B00CCYP714 EBOK (15 page)

They were approaching the hospital doors, when a detective Rainey knew exited the building. “Well, providence has spoken,” he said, smiling at her.

“Good morning, Detective Gardner,” Rainey said.

Gardner was a former army man and still carried himself with a military bearing, as he continued toward them. “I was just going out to the car to find your phone number. I’ve got a rape victim in here that refuses to speak to anyone or undergo an examination until she speaks to you.”

“Why me?” Rainey asked.

“She attended the symposium where you spoke Monday night.”

“Is it the same guy?” Rainey asked, knowing Gardner was working the serial rapist case.

“We don’t know,” he answered. “She won’t talk. Just walked in here this morning and asked to speak to you. She said she knew you’d be here with your friend.”

“There’s not much of my life people don’t know about, after last night and now this morning.”

“Yeah, I heard about Mackie and the body dump. Some guy at the office commented that you were on every channel, like it was the Rainey season.” Gardner chuckled at the joke, and then seeing that Rainey did not find it amusing, said, “I guess it’s not that funny from your perspective.”

Rainey answered coldly, “No, it isn’t.”

Katie entered the conversation. “Oh, Rainey, that woman must be traumatized. You go on and talk to her. I’ll go up and see about Mackie.”

“Yoo hoo,” a familiar voice sang from behind them.

It was Ernie, carrying a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. To look at her, no one would know she was up late and probably had as little sleep as Rainey. Ernie never had a hair out of place and was always dressed professionally, in sharp suits and heels. The sweet, little old lady act did not work on Rainey. She knew the heart of a lioness lived beneath that perfectly coiffed gray bun. Mess with one of Ernie’s cubs and a person would get the claws, or a bullet, whichever the situation required.

“Hey, Ernie,” Katie said, as the older woman approached. “Did you get some sleep?”

“Yes, I went home to the farm about an hour after Rainey left. I came back to town early, because I wanted to stop by here before I went to the office.”

Rainey admired Ernie’s dedication, but the business could be closed for a few days. “Don’t worry about the office. Take the day off. Take two. We can shut down a bit without problems.”

Ernie shook her head. “At my age, honey, it pays to keep moving. I’m just going in to check messages. I’ll be back here at the hospital this afternoon, so Thelma can go home for a bit.”

Detective Gardner cleared his throat to get Rainey’s attention. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but if you could talk to this victim, maybe we can determine what happened and if this is the same guy.”

Ernie was not one to ponder alone what she could ask outright. “The same guy that left the body behind your house?”

Katie answered for Rainey. “No, this is the serial rapist. The body came from the serial killer.”

“My Lord,” Ernie said. “What in the world is wrong with people?”

Rainey noticed a news van pull into the parking lot. “Katie, go on up with Ernie. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Let’s get out of the public eye.” She nodded toward the van closing in on her position.

Katie rolled her eyes. “You know, I thought being married to a politician was bad, but it appears I jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire with you.”

Gardner led the way. “We call it the profiler effect,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “And with Rainey, it’s extreme. The media thinks the FBI is sexy. Add in profiling, serial killers, and a good-looking former analyst, it’s a news director’s dream.”

“You forgot lesbian,” Katie added. “They never forget to mention that.”

Gardner chuckled. “Yeah, they don’t miss that very often. Face it, Rainey Bell, you’re a media darling.” He looked back at the parking lot. “And it looks like your favorite reporter just pulled in.”

Rainey turned to see a van with Cookie Kutter’s smiling image painted on the side. She pushed Katie and Ernie through the door and slipped inside. “Whatever happens, Katie, do not punch Cookie on camera again.”

Katie smiled over her shoulder at Rainey. “I’ve learned to use my words.”

Katie’s wicked grin did not comfort Rainey. “Don’t talk to her, please. I’m begging you.”

Katie winked. “Don’t want me hogging your spotlight?”

“No,” Rainey said, “I don’t want to be left alone with the triplets, while you get a new sugar-momma down at the jail.”

#

Rainey saw Katie and Ernie to the elevators and then followed Gardner back to the examination rooms, somehow able to avoid Cookie. As they walked, Gardner filled her in on what he knew. The woman had yet to give her name, address, or any details, other than she was raped. She had some visual signs of trauma, consistent with the other victims. Her lip was split, her hair was damp, and there was evidence he used tape on her mouth and eyes.

Rainey could not remember being in the emergency room the night of her own abduction. It was several days later when the memories began for her. Still, waking up to the horror of what had happened was the low point and the beginning of her recovery. The disassociation it took to learn to live with what had been done to her began the moment her brain remembered his face hovering above hers. Although she had seen her attacker take his last breath and knew he could never hurt her again, walking into this woman’s room made it necessary for Rainey to double check her mental boxes, assuring the lids were tightly secured. She could not let her emotional memories enter into the conversation.

Gardner stopped outside the door. “See if you can get the location for me, so I can get the scene sealed.”

Rainey nodded, and stepped into the room. A nurse greeted her with a smile, but was prepared to protect her patient. She positioned herself between her charge and the intruder. “May I help you?”

The young woman in the bed spoke softly. “It’s okay. She’s the one I want to talk to.”

“Rainey Bell,” she said, extending her hand to the nurse.

“Dani,” the nurse said, shaking Rainey’s hand. She turned to the woman in the bed. “I’m going to step outside, so you two can talk, okay?”

The woman only nodded. The nurse left the room. Rainey assumed she was the SANE nurse. It had nothing to do with her mental state. The acronym stood for Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner, an individual specially trained to collect evidence and deal with the trauma associated with sexual assault. She was usually the first advocate a rape survivor encountered. While her job was to collect evidence to be used in the investigation, her priority was the health and mental wellbeing of her patient, a huge step forward in assault victims’ treatment from that of past decades. It was the first step to the restoration of a survivor’s dignity.

The young woman in the bed looked to be in her mid-twenties, consistent with the other serial rape victims. The rapist seemed to have only an age range and appealing appearance for target selection criteria. This woman was small, but athletic looking. She appeared to have put up a struggle. In addition to the split lip, there was an abrasion on her left cheek, and her eye was swollen, already turning shades of purple. Rainey could still see tape residue in her thick brown hair and the skin was raw near her eyes and mouth, where she had ripped the tape off after the assault. Her wrists were red, where he bound them, leaving markings associated with the use of plastic handcuffs similar to those used by law enforcement. All consistent with the other women Rainey had interviewed in the serial rapist investigation.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” Rainey asked.

“Go ahead,” the woman answered in a whisper.

Rainey took the chair by the bed. She knew the woman would talk about the assault when she was ready, so she did not ask her anything about it. Instead, she said, “Can I get you anything? Are you warm enough? It’s always so damn cold in these rooms.”

“I’m okay. My hair is almost dry now and the shivering stopped. I don’t think I’ve ever been that cold before.”

Another consistency. He made the women get into the bathtub after the assault, where he supervised the washing of his DNA from their bodies. He then drained the tub and filled it again, demanding that they stay there while he searched their homes. He would pop back into the bathroom to remind her he was still there, terrorizing the woman into believing he would never leave. Eventually, he would simply slip away. Some of the women stayed in the cold water for hours, nearing hypothermia, in fear that he was waiting just outside the bathroom door.

The woman in the bed almost let herself go back there. Rainey recognized the pained expression on her face and the coping mechanism that triggered her next question.

“Did I bring my purse? My phone is in my purse.” She looked around the room, searching for the normalcy that would be a long time coming. The purse and phone were things from her life before the world spiraled out of control.

“I don’t know, but I’ll ask, if you like.”

“I think it’s in my car,” the woman said, still trying to put distance between her and the memory she had almost allowed to creep in.

Rainey saw an opening. “Hang on. I can find out for you.” She stood and walked to the doorway. Sticking her head out, she asked the diligent nurse, “Did she have keys with her?”

“Yes, they’re in the personals bag by the bed. I’ve already bagged her clothes separately.”

Rainey walked back into the room and over to bag, removing a set of keys with a keyless entry remote attached. She smiled at the woman, attempting to keep her at ease.

“I’ll have Detective Gardner see if your purse is in your car, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“You parked in the ER lot, right?” Rainey asked, now that she had consent to search for the purse.

“I think so,” the woman answered, a little hesitantly.

“Just a sec, then. I’ll be right back.” Rainey stepped into the hall and handed the keys to Gardner. “Her car is in the ER lot, she thinks. Push the panic button on the remote and listen for the horn.”

Gardner trotted off to find the vehicle. He would have all he needed to identify her, if he could locate the purse. If not, then a quick check of the registered owner’s driver’s license picture could yield a verification of identity. Even if the vehicle was registered to someone else, it was more information than they had now. She would tell Rainey her name and address eventually, but the scene needed to be sealed right away. This way, Rainey did not have to push the woman and could let the story unfold when she was ready.

Rainey resumed her seat, saying, “He’ll be back in a minute. I don’t carry a purse, but I know how unsettling it can be not to know where my phone is.”

“I saw you Monday night,” the woman said. “I sat there trying to imagine what I would do if I was raped. I saw your scar and thought how brave you were to show it. Does it remind you every day? Do you still remember it like it was yesterday?”

The woman wanted to know what all victims do. Will I be able to forget this ever happened?

Rainey leaned forward. “In time, I was able to put it away. The pain lessened, the nightmares faded, and I came to understand that this happened to my body. It does not define me.”

A tear rolled down the woman’s cheek. “But you still remember, don’t you?”

“Not as much as before, and more than I will remember tomorrow. I don’t think we can ever forget it completely, but I filled my life with other things. I don’t have time to dwell on it. Survivors find their own path. Everyone deals with trauma differently. I can’t tell you the right choices for you. I can tell you the worst is over. You survived. Nothing else matters, not what he made you do, not what you had to do to survive. Nothing matters except that the attack is over. When you can embrace that, the healing will begin.”

“They want me to tell them what happened. I don’t know if I can do that,” the woman said, the tears flowing freely now.

This was the part Rainey hated, the coercive element to a rape investigation. She handed the woman a tissue from the box beside her bed and tried to soften her appeal for the woman’s cooperation with the police. “What and when you tell it is up to you. You have control now. That is important for a survivor, to be in control of what happens next. You can leave here right now and never speak of it again, but I don’t recommend you do that. You came here seeking help, because deep down you know that’s what you need. Let the system help you. If you choose to give a statement to the police and seek justice for what happened, then you’ve taken the first step.”

“I’ll have to testify in court. They’ll try to say that I asked for this, because I forgot to lock the backdoor. It was my fault. ‘You knew I was coming. You left the door unlocked for me.’ That’s what he said.”

There it was, Rainey thought, the self-imposed guilt. The seed planted by the rapist that, if not plucked out before it grew, could cripple this woman’s recovery.

“You did not leave the door unlocked. He uses the same line at each of his crimes. He needs to believe it himself, that you wanted him. Nothing could be farther from the truth and it is his fantasy, not reality. He’s a criminal. They lie.”

The woman stared at Rainey for a moment, her brow wrinkled, as she processed this new information. “I knew I locked that door,” she finally said.

“You did nothing wrong. No matter what he said, what anyone else says, or what those nagging little voices in your head will say down the road, you have to know you did nothing wrong. The moment he entered your home without permission, your only option was to do whatever it took to survive. That’s all you need to know.”

“He had a gun, but I fought him anyway. He hit me with it, then I stopped fighting and he didn’t hit me anymore. I remembered what you said about the different types of rapist. He kept telling me I was lucky he was a gentleman.”

Rainey smiled at the younger woman. “I suggest you tell anyone who calls you lucky to fuck off.”

A slight smile crossed the woman’s lips, accompanied by a weak laugh. “I will.” She sighed, wiping her tears away. “Well, I guess I better tell that detective what happened, so I can leave.”