Death Comes Knocking (The Thea Kozak Mystery Series, Book 10)

by Kate Flora

  I grabbed my briefcase and headed inside. I paused at the door, though, when I heard a woman’s upset voice say, “Stop that, Jason. Take your hands off me. Right now. This is not okay.”

  This was not a flirtation or some goofing around. Lindsay sounded panicked and scared.

  I stepped back outside, dialed 911, gave the address, and said that a woman was being assaulted. If I was wrong, I could say “my bad” later. I didn’t think I was wrong.

  I stepped quietly through the door, setting my briefcase on Magda’s desk. Jason had Lindsay pressed up against the wall, using his body to pin her there. I recorded some video with my phone as I headed toward them, not because I’m a voyeur, but because in case he denied it, I wanted evidence. I am not a cop. I am not a detective. But I am not letting anyone get away with this behavior if I can stop it. The world is ridiculously full of people recording things. This time it made sense.

  I captured Lindsay’s desperate voice saying, “Don’t touch me, Jason. Let me go. Don’t do this. Oh my God! What are you doing! Stop!” Her “stop” ended on a frightened wail.

  I didn’t doubt that she could usually handle herself, but he was a big guy, she was a small woman, and he wasn’t listening.

  “Jason. Stop right now! Get away from her!” I yelled it as loudly as I could. A man bent on sexual assault can be difficult to refocus.

  When he didn’t respond, I switched my phone for my pepper spray, grabbed his shoulder, jerked him around and blasted him full in the face. He staggered away, hands clasped over his streaming eyes, moaning and cursing.

  I heard sirens and then the pounding of feet on the stairs.

  Ignoring him, I opened my arms, and Lindsay threw herself at me, sobbing. “Oh my God, Thea. Oh my God. What if you hadn’t been here?”

  The first officer through the door was one I’d met before. He gave a nod of recognition, then indicated Jason. “This the guy?”

  I nodded. “And this is the victim.”

  “Pepper spray?” he said.

  “I couldn’t get him to let go of her.”

  “We’ll take it from here.”

  His partner, also someone I’d met before, a woman who was quick, smart, and unflappable, approached Lindsay and said, “Officer Bonnie Martin. Ma’am, could we talk for a moment?”

  Martin looked at me. “Can we use your office?”

  “Of course.” I kept an arm around Lindsay as I walked her to my office. Martin followed. I got Lindsay into a chair and said, “Do you mind if I stay?”

  “Please let her stay,” Lindsay said.

  Martin nodded. I sat behind my desk, while Martin sat beside Lindsay in my other visitor’s chair.

  “I know this is hard,” Martin said. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  Lindsay shot me a desperate look.

  “Just walk Officer Martin through it, Lindsay, step by step,” I said, handing her some tissues. “She needs to know the facts.”

  “Okay,” Lindsay said, her voice shaky. “I uh…Jason asked…uh, I’m an intern working here at EDGE for the summer. Jason is…uh…he just started working here.” She looked at me. “About a week and a half, two weeks ago, maybe? Is that right, Thea?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “The other day he…uh…he put his hand on my butt when I was bending over, putting something in my purse. I confronted him right away. I told him that kind of behavior wasn’t okay in the workplace. He…uh…he kind of smirked, like it was all a big joke. I didn’t smile. I told him it wasn’t funny. And later, I told Thea about it because working near him was making me uncomfortable.”

  Martin nodded and looked at me. “Yes,” I said, “Lindsay told me about the incident, and my partner Suzanne and I spoke with Jason about it, about appropriate behavior in the workplace, with co-workers and with clients. We were concerned because we work closely with independent schools, and our work often involves contact with high school students. We had to know that he understood boundaries and it wouldn’t happen again. We were very firm that one more misstep, and he’d be fired.”

  I spread my hands in a gesture of defeat. “Guess the message wasn’t received.”

  “Were there any other instances of touching before today?” Martin asked.

  Lindsay shook her head. “Except that pat.”

  “Any other contact? Conversations? Phone calls? Have you spent any time with him outside of work?”

  Lindsay straightened up and looked at the officer. “No. There has been no contact outside of work.” She sounded offended. “You’re not trying to say…”

  Martin cut her off. “Tell me what happened this morning.”

  I might be feeling protective of Lindsay, but Martin didn’t need my interference. She knew what she was doing. Knew she had to test the veracity of Lindsay’s story.

  “I’d mentioned to Thea’s secretary, Sarah, that I planned to come in early this morning to work on a video we’re making for a client school. Jason must have overheard.” She looked around nervously, like he might still be lurking somewhere.

  “It’s okay,” Martin said. “No one is going to interrupt. Jason has gone with the other officers. Please go on.”

  “I came in around seven-thirty. No one was here, it was nice and quiet, and I was working on my video when Jason arrived.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Maybe eight. Eight-fifteen. I didn’t look at the clock. I was pretty immersed in my work. I just noticed he’d come in and he went to his desk. I thought, like me, he probably had something he wanted to finish. A few minutes later, I went to the ladies’ room. When I came out, he was standing at my desk, looking at my work. He was reaching for the keyboard and I said, ‘Don’t’ pretty loudly because I wasn’t sure I’d saved everything. I mean, I thought I had, but I didn’t want to take a chance. I’d put a lot of work into the video.”

  She knotted her hands together. “I…he…when I got closer, he turned toward me. He had this ugly smirk on his face. He said, ‘You told Thea and Suzanne that I was working on my own stuff, didn’t you?’ and he came toward me. I backed away. He was scaring me, and the two of us were alone in the office. I said, ‘Stay away from me, Jason. You’re making me uncomfortable. You’re scaring me,’ and I tried to get around him, so I could get out of the office and find someplace else in the building where there were people around. But he grabbed my arm and he…”

  She started to sob.

  I handed her another tissue, but I didn’t say anything. This was Martin’s show. I was only here for moral support.

  “Go on,” Martin said softly.

  “He jerked me back toward him and dragged me toward the wall. I tried to talk to him. I told him I was scared and asked why was he scaring me? Why was he acting like this? He just kept that smirk on his face, like the whole thing was very funny. It was…terrifying.” She let out a sigh. “I’ve never been in a situation like that. Some of my friends have…have been in a situation where there’s a guy who won’t hear no and who is just determined to do what he wants. I didn’t really know what he wanted. I mean, was he just trying to scare me? To intimidate me because I’d spoken with Thea? Or was he…”

  She stopped and buried her face in her hands. From behind the barrier of her fingers, her words were faint. “Was he planning to assault me?”

  “I know this is hard,” Martin said, “but I need to hear the whole story in your words.”

  Lindsay dropped her hands and glared at the officer. “It’s not a story, okay? I didn’t make this up. Thea saw…”

  She took a breath and let it out slowly. “I tried to get away, but he was between me and the door. He kept coming forward, and I kept stepping back away from him, and then I was right up against the wall and I had nowhere to go.”

  She shook her head. “He kept coming until he was pressed right up against me. Rubbing his body against me. I said, ‘Stop it, Jason. Get your hands off me. Let me go. This is not okay.’ I begged him to stop. I was yelling at him. And plead
ing. He put his hand up under my dress and…”

  She was wearing a pretty summer dress, sleeveless and short, like all the girls were wearing this year. It wasn’t tight. It wasn’t low cut. No one could claim that she was being provocative.

  “Go on,” Martin said quietly.

  “He put his hand up my dress…” Lindsay was crying again. “Uh put his fingers… inside me, and he said, ‘Come on, Lins, you know you want me’ as if…” She gasped for breath. “As if I’d ever want to be treated like that. And that’s when Thea grabbed him.”

  She dissolved into sobs.

  I felt like an idiot. I felt responsible. She’d told us about his inappropriate touching, and we hadn’t taken it seriously enough and fired him on the spot. We’d thought counseling would handle the problem. We’d been dealing with Jason like a professional employee who’d crossed a line, not like some hormone-driven adolescent. Not like some thuggish bro with a Neanderthal view of women. He was a twenty-something college graduate. Maybe our judgment had been impaired because we really needed the help. But never in a million years, however callow and self-centered Jason’s recent behavior had revealed him to be, would I have expected this.

  “When I came into the room and saw what was happening,” I told Bonnie Martin, “I stepped back out, called 911, then set my phone to video as I approached them.”

  She looked at me and quirked an eyebrow. “Really?” She held out her hand. “Let me see.”

  It wasn’t great from a production standpoint, but it absolutely confirmed Lindsay’s account.

  “I can send it to your phone,” I said.

  She gave me her number and I sent it.

  She returned her focus to Lindsay. “Lindsay, you’ll need to come down to the station and give us a formal statement. Can you do that?”

  Lindsay nodded. “But first I…if it’s okay, I mean…I need to finish this video I’m working on.”

  Martin patted her hand. “There’s no rush. Any time today is fine.” She looked at me. “You’ll come with her?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. We’ll need a statement from you, too.” She shook her head. “That boy has had more chances than anyone deserves. This is his last.”

  “What do you mean?” Lindsay and I said together.

  “I mean this is not his first rodeo. He got the other cases filed. Good lawyer. Connected parents. The old juvenile defense, no one wanted to ruin his future. He was supposed to keep his nose clean and it would go away.”

  “But we…” I started.

  “You wouldn’t have found anything,” Martin said. “His daddy takes care of that.”

  “So when he told me that his mother was in the hospital and his work schedule was affected because he had to take care of his twin siblings, that was just a story?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid so. He doesn’t have twin siblings and his mother is probably out playing golf. As I said, you couldn’t know. There was nothing to find.” She looked at Lindsay. “I’m sorry this happened to you. If you need to talk to someone…if you feel like you need support…we have a victim advocate you can talk to.”

  “I’m just…” Lindsay was crying again. “Trying to do my job.”

  “Me, too,” Martin said. She snapped her notebook shut, then gave us each a business card. “Call when you’re coming in, so I can be there.”

  She hesitated at the door. I thought she was considering whether to comment on the video I’d made. Or say something more comforting to Lindsay. Bonnie Martin was a good cop, but she wasn’t warm and fuzzy. She shook her head. Then she turned and left.

  I wondered if she, like me, was wishing she’d done something sooner, so this wouldn’t have happened. As Andre sometimes says, cops do their job, but sometimes the justice system doesn’t.

  “Cup of tea?” I asked Lindsay.

  “Unless you have a bottle of whiskey in your desk drawer.”

  “I’m afraid not. It’s tempting though. But this early in the day, the bars aren’t even open.”

  “S’okay. I’ve got work to do.”

  “You can go home if you want.”

  She shook her head. “And sit there by myself brooding on what just happened? You know how that will go. I’ll start thinking it must have been my fault.”

  “Stop!” I held up a hand. “Don’t even start with that. It’s how predators get away with it, making their victims feel like they did something wrong.”

  “Predator? Wow. That’s a strong word.”

  “It’s a perfect word.”

  She considered that and nodded. “It is a perfect word.”

  She went back to her desk, and I fought my maternal desire to sit there and watch over her.

  This was not how I’d planned to spend my day.

  Twenty-Six

  Magda came in as Martin was leaving, followed shortly by Sarah and Suzanne. I called them into my office and filled them in on what had just happened. Magda looked like she was contemplating homicide, Sarah was ready to mother Lindsay, and Suzanne looked disgusted.

  “We warned him,” she said.

  “Bonnie Martin says this isn’t the first time he’s been in trouble, though she didn’t elucidate. I guess he’s one of those guys whose important daddy bails him out whenever he gets in trouble.”

  “Not this time, I hope,” Sarah said.

  I agreed.

  “If he shows his face around here again, call the police,” Suzanne said. “If he says he needs to pick up his stuff, that happens only if a police officer comes with him. In fact, I think we should go ahead and get a restraining order, and Lindsay should get one for herself as well.”

  Because we deal with vulnerable student populations, and have been writing tons of honor codes and crisis management plans, the necessary steps to protect a victim are practically tattooed on our arms. Suzanne left to call our attorney, and Magda and Sarah went back to their desks.

  I was answering messages and fielding questions from client schools when Lindsay appeared in my office door.

  “I’ve got a pretty good rough cut of the video, if you’d like to look,” she said.

  “Love to,” I said. Her color was back and she seemed calmer. “How are you doing?”

  “It was terrifying,” she said. “You never think…I mean, we all talk about assaults and try to be vigilant. We’re careful in bars and watch out for each other. You know. But who would expect this? In the office, when someone might walk in at any moment?” She looked down at the floor. “What could I possibly have done…”

  “Nothing. You did nothing. Don’t do this to yourself, Lindsay. Please. It isn’t something you did, other than being young and attractive and female, which is neither a provocation nor a crime. This is all on him. Maybe it would help to speak with their victims’ advocate.”

  She shook her head. “I can deal…”

  “You don’t have to do it right now, Lindsay. But if it stays with you and you don’t feel like you can move on, it’s all right to get help. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.”

  “Would you? I mean, you’re so strong and tough.”

  “I have. I did. Actually, Andre’s boss made me go see someone. I went kicking and screaming. But it did help.”

  I was not eager to recount the adventures that led to Andre’s lieutenant, Jack Leonard, sending me for help. I would if that was what Lindsay needed. For now, I thought focusing on work would help her like it helped me. I stood. “Let’s look at that video.”

  I stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, as she ran the brief but powerful narrative she’d put together. The boys rapping their plans. Their photos mixed with texts and Instagram postings, so the posters were clearly identified. Their own videos of the fight, quick cuts between the various phones, showing them setting up, the attack on Denzel, him trying to talk to them, bring them to their senses, the blows continuing until he was finally forced to defend himself by shoving an assailant away. It was as riveting as a movie trailer and very persuasive.


  “It’s brilliant, Lindsay. You’ve done such a great job of telling the story. Or letting the story tell itself. It doesn’t look contrived; it looks honest. I think The King School is going to be very impressed.”

  “Did the video of that attack on Dr. Ellis-Jackson inspire you to…uh…record this morning?”

  I hadn’t thought about it. It had just been instinct. The phone was in my hand and I had seem too many instances where it was his word against hers and male voices were the ones that were believed. “Maybe,” I said. “It just seemed important.”

  She nodded. “It was…it is important. Can I…do you mind if I see it again?”

  I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but I had to let her take the lead here. Trust her instincts for what would help. I queued up the video and passed her my phone.

  She played it. Replayed it. Handed the phone back. “Thank you,” she said. “Makes me want to kill him, you know? Hit him with a brick. Run him down with my car. Do something bad.”

  “Probably not a good idea,” I said, worrying that maybe I’d misjudged her as well. Should I let Bonnie Martin know Lindsay was thinking like this? I understood rage and the desire to do something, anything, to restore the balance and reclaim a sense of personal autonomy. I had no idea how serious Lindsay was about acting on it. The fiasco with Jason had me worried about my judgment. We’d made a personnel decision a few years back that had nearly gotten me killed.

  “Are you ready to send that video to our clients?”

  She nodded. “I am.”

  “You have their contacts, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Then go ahead. It was your idea; you should get the credit.”

  As I headed for Suzanne’s office, I noticed that Marlene had come in without saying hi to anyone and was huddled at her desk in the corner. I headed over there to see if she was okay.

  “Good morning,” I said, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt.

  She looked up nervously.

  “How did you do with the crisis management plan?”