41
T
he nurse removed the deflated bag of saline and attached a new one to the top of the IV pole. A clear tube ran from the bag into Nicole’s arm. The woman sat in the hospital bed propped up with pillows, wearing a hospital gown that kept slipping off her bony shoulders. The room was super-air-conditioned, raising goosebumps on her arms. Nicole was so thin, Anna thought, she looked like a famine victim or a supermodel.
A tray of hospital food sat in front of her, untouched. The only thing she’d been able to get down was a small portion of a milk shake. Monitors beeped and whirred around them.
Anna and Samantha had been sitting with her for half an hour. Mostly, the nurses had been talking to the patient. Samantha hadn’t said much. Anna suspected the agent was still shaky from being hit, although she insisted she was fine.
Anna expected the nurse to chastise them that the patient needed rest. But the nurse barely glanced at the visitors. After she was done with the IV, she made a few notes on a chart and turned to walk out. Anna asked if she could get an extra blanket for Nicole. The nurse returned with a warm blanket, which she draped around the patient’s shoulders. Nicole smiled at Anna.
The doctors at George Washington University Hospital had handed down their diagnosis. Nicole was suffering from internal bleeding and malnutrition. Most dangerously, she was dehydrated; hence the IV. It was amazing, Anna thought, how the woman’s face had filled out in the two hours since she’d been admitted, diminishing the skeletal look of her sunken eye sockets. She was far too thin, but the saline drip had plumped up her desiccated skin like an air pump filling a deflated ball.
The first thing Nicole wanted to know was what had happened to Pleazy. Anna told her that the police had caught the pimp—whose
real name was Lorenzo V. James—on Rhode Island Avenue around the same time they found Nicole in the closet. Pleazy was likely going to jail for a long time. He had enough prior felony drug convictions that he was looking at a fifteen-year mandatory minimum sentence for possession of a firearm. There were a variety of other charges they could bring against him and the two women who had attacked Samantha and Anna.
“We might ask you to testify against him at trial,” Anna said.
“Good,” Nicole said, chin up, eyes hard.
Anna could see Nicole meant it, which was huge. Getting a prostitute to testify against her pimp was often impossible, even when he had beaten the woman bloody. Studies estimated that over 80 percent of prostitutes were raped by their pimps, though the crime was rarely reported to law enforcement. Pimps were famous for their ability to command loyalty while wielding extreme cruelty. It was like a domestic-violence relationship in that the victim was deeply in love with her abuser. But Anna could see that wasn’t the dynamic here. Nicole wasn’t in love with Pleazy. She wasn’t going to cover for him.
“So where have you been the last few days?” Anna asked gently. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“I know.” Nicole chewed her lip guiltily. And then she talked. Once she started, she couldn’t seem to stop. Her voice was weak, and she was obviously in pain, but she needed to speak. Anna guessed she’d been on her own a lot lately. She was dying to be heard, to be known—maybe more than she’d been dying of dehydration.
They learned that Nicole was from Butler, a small town north of Pittsburgh. She’d started at Georgetown University four years ago and had been majoring in psychology. She liked D.C. and the college but had a hard time affording the lifestyle after her parents stopped paying for things. She was currently taking a “break” from classes. She lived in Alban Towers, right where McGee had gone to look for her.
“Did you know the police were trying to find you?” Anna asked.
“Yes,” Nicole said. “I didn’t want you to find me.”
“We kind of guessed that. Why?”
Nicole didn’t respond at first. Anna could sense her struggling with whether to open up. They couldn’t make Nicole talk to them; she was in no shape to be hauled in front of the grand jury. And Anna knew that Nicole wouldn’t open up unless she wanted to. Unless she decided that Anna could be trusted.
Nicole opened her mouth, but instead of speaking, she began to sob. Her cries were soft, but her whole body shook with them. Anna handed her a tissue and waited. When Nicole finally quieted, she took a deep breath and met Anna’s eyes.
“I’m responsible for what happened to Caroline McBride.”
Anna kept a neutral expression. “How so?”
“I set up her appointment that night.”
“Wasn’t Madeleine responsible for all the appointments?”
“Madeleine didn’t know what was going on with this one. Caroline had met with Congressman Lionel before. I guess he was pretty bold about having escorts come to his office. So one night maybe four or five months ago, this staffer saw Caroline in the office, and he fell for her. Men did that all the time. She just had this pull.
“It was hard for him to get the appointment. You can’t look up ‘Sasha’ or ‘Discretion’ in the phone book. He must’ve gotten it from the Congressman’s cell phone or something. So he called up, told Madeleine that the Congressman had referred him, and booked an appointment with Sasha. Once he’d been with her, that was it. He was convinced he was in love with her. Kept booking appointments. At Caroline’s rates, he must’ve bankrupted himself. But he was crazy about her. Like
crazy
crazy. In a weird, meticulous way. Once he fixated on something, he was obsessed.
“To her, he was just another john. Not even one she particularly liked. To him, she was his destiny,
the one
. So he started trying to see her outside of appointments. For free, like they were really dating. He followed her home one time, left notes and gifts at our door. He was like, ‘I can take you away from all this,’ blah blah blah. He wanted to marry her. He didn’t even know her real name, but he wanted to ‘make an honest woman’ out of her.
“Caroline didn’t want him. She was the top escort in the city. She
asked him to chill, but she was too sweet and polite. He didn’t get the message.
“He started getting jealous about her clients. One time he waited outside our building all night with that camera he was always carrying. It was stalkerish, but Madeleine wouldn’t let Caroline call the police. Finally, he interrupted one of Caroline’s other appointments. That’s when Madeleine finally put a stop to it. She banned him from the agency and sent some big guy to ‘have a talk’ with him. Scared the crap out of him.”
“Do you know the staffer’s name?” Anna asked, although she could make a pretty good guess.
“Brett Vale.”
Anna nodded, picturing the lean silver-haired staffer with the translucent blue eyes. She remembered those strange eyes skimming up her own bare legs.
“I’m not understanding something,” Anna said. “How is any of this
your
fault?”
Nicole looked out the window and spoke to the hazy blue sky. “Caroline and I were fighting a lot at this point. I racked up a ton of debt. Credit cards, borrowing from my friends and from . . . my dealer.”
“And from Caroline?”
Nicole nodded and looked down. “By the end, she was paying all the rent. Food, too. We fought about every fucking thing. If I borrowed her lip gloss or a purse, if I left dishes in the sink, if I partied a little too hard some night. I didn’t need that shit from her. Then Madeleine fired me. I had all these debts and no income.
“Brett came up to me one day, said he wanted to make a private arrangement. I knew he was trouble, but I needed the work. I met him at his place. It was weird. There were pictures of Caroline all over his walls. And he didn’t want to have sex with me. He just wanted to talk about her and get information from me. He ended up crying on my shoulder, telling me how much he loved her, how he couldn’t live without her, that sort of thing. It was insulting. I mean,
I
was an escort first. I got her into the business.
“Anyway, Brett gave me a thousand dollars’ cash to help him set up one more meeting with Caroline. He wanted a last shot at winning her over. Thought if he had the face time, he could convince her to be with him. He was all romantic about it.
“I knew there was no chance. But I needed the money. And fuck Madeleine. And—God help me—I was mad at Caroline. I was jealous of her. Her success. Everything.”
Her long brown hair covered her face as she bowed her head and choked back a sob. “So I did it.” She looked back up at Anna, her fingers twisting the hospital gown. “I told him how to meet her. He called Madeleine and booked Caroline as if he were the Congressman. He knew the Congressman’s computer password—said he kept it taped to a note under his keyboard. Brett just needed to know her real name to get her through security. We never told clients our real names, but Madeleine made an exception for congressmen. So I told him it was Caroline McBride. I think he was gonna propose to her.”
Anna tried to tally it all up, as she nodded calmly. Did the story match up with the other known facts? It did. Did Vale seem like he could do this sort of thing? He did.
“I watched her get ready that night,” Nicole said, using a corner of the bedsheet to wipe a tear running down her cheek. “So excited to have an appointment at the Capitol. Putting on her new suit. I knew who was waiting for her. And I didn’t tell her. I just watched.”
“You didn’t know he was going to kill her,” Anna said.
“Have you talked to Brett Vale since that night?” Samantha asked.
“No way.”
“Do you know if he had anything to do with Madeleine’s death?” Samantha asked.
Nicole’s eyes widened. Locked in the closet, she hadn’t heard that Madeleine was dead. “Oh God, what happened?” She started sobbing again. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I didn’t even like her.”
Anna put a hand on Nicole’s arm and patted it. Nicole leaned over and pressed her face into Anna’s shoulder. She cried in great heaving gulps. Anna held her without speaking. Eventually, Nicole’s sobs shifted down to whimpers, then sniffles. She sat back and used a napkin to blow her nose.
“Do you know whether Vale keeps any weapons in the house?” Samantha asked. That was one of the first things a police officer wanted to know when preparing a search warrant. Samantha was ready to go bust down Vale’s door.
“I didn’t see any, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” Nicole said. “He’s crazy.”
Anna took Nicole’s hand. “What happened to Caroline wasn’t your fault. And your information today has been really helpful. Can we return the favor? Do you want some help getting out of this life?”
Nicole nodded.
“I made some calls while the doctors were looking at you,” Anna said. “I got you into a residential drug-treatment program. They’ll take you tomorrow, when the hospital releases you. And then I want you to meet some folks from Polaris. It’s a great organization that helps sex workers find the courage and resources to leave the business. They have some ex-prostitutes working there. They’re amazing. And they’re really looking forward to talking to you. We might even be able to get you into transitional housing, if you’re interested.”
There was no one like an ex-prostitute to help a current one get out of the business. Anna could do only so much as a prosecutor. The best luck she’d had in helping women escape prostitution was to introduce them to other women who’d managed to get out.
Anna gauged Nicole’s reaction. If she didn’t want to leave the life, any help Anna could offer would be worthless.
Nicole’s expression was something Anna didn’t see often enough. It was the rare and priceless look of a woman who was ready to get clean.
Anna might actually be able to help her.
“Thank you,” Nicole said.
Anna and Samantha had a lot of work ahead of them tonight, but for a moment, Anna allowed herself the thrill of satisfaction. Bringing someone back from the brink was the best part of her job.
42
A
nna and Samantha spent the rest of the night in the war room, corroborating everything they could about Nicole’s story. Mostly, Anna lost herself in the work. But at one point she looked up at the clock and saw it was eight-thirty
P.M
.—Olivia’s bedtime. She pictured Jack sitting on Olivia’s bed as the little girl slowly read aloud from
James and the Giant Peach
. Anna remembered how Olivia had cuddled with her last night, the way the little girl had seemed not only to want but to need Anna’s presence. For a second Anna wished she were sitting on the foot of the bed, patting Olivia’s foot and smiling encouragingly as she read. Anna felt a warm wistfulness in her chest. Was she feeling . . . could she be . . . motherly?
She shook it off. It was too late for her to feel all lovey and maternal toward Olivia. She refocused herself on the case.
By ten
P.M
., she and Samantha had covered every angle they could think of, and they couldn’t find anything wrong with Nicole’s story. The Tiny Jewel Box sent Anna a fax confirming that Brett Vale had bought the engagement ring found in the hideaway. Anna subpoenaed the three major credit-rating agencies, with Samantha working her contacts to get an expedited response: Vale had maxed out six credit cards in the last six months.
McGee arrived at the office with a Georgetown Cupcakes box that held eleven cupcakes—“I couldn’t wait!”—and a sugary grin. After Anna filled him in, McGee wanted to get a warrant to arrest Vale immediately.
They had probable cause to arrest Vale. He had lied to them about the engagement ring, at the very least, and that was a federal offense. If Nicole were telling the truth, Vale had lied to them about almost everything else as well.
But it was possible that Nicole’s story wasn’t true. The last thing they wanted to do was arrest the wrong guy. Just being arrested on
a charge like this could ruin someone’s reputation and career. And if further investigation eventually concluded that someone else had killed Caroline, the wrongful arrest of Vale would be Exhibit A in a “police rushed to judgment” defense. Or the eventual defendant could claim Vale
was
the real killer, to create a reasonable doubt.