Natasha shakes her head. “Shit no. They arrested Bo? No, it wasn't Bo. No way. Why would they think it was Bo? I told them I couldn't recognize who it was.”
“Then they have to figure it out without your identification. I guess everybody told them about that big fight you had.”
“But it wasn't Bo.”
“How can you be so sure? I mean Nat, if you don't know who did it, how can you know who didn't do it?”
“For one thing, he was here today. There is no way he could have faced me if he's done it without me knowing. And even if Bo was capable of raping me, there is no way, there is just no way he could ever have beat on me like that.”
Glancing at Natasha's bandaged head, she replies, “I thought that was just to knock you out so you couldn't recognize him,” Natasha's pulls up the sweatshirt to show Liz the livid bruising on her stomach.
“Oh my god.” breathes Liz.
“That is just the tip of the iceberg. I want you to get your camera and lights set up and take some good clear pictures. When they catch the bastard I want to make damn sure he goes to jail.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure of course.” Liz shivers. “But Natasha, if it wasn't Boris, who was it?”
“I don't know. Could have been almost anybody.” Natasha slides off the bed. “Did you bring me shoes?”
“Oh yeah, they're right here.” Liz pulls a pair of running shoes out from under the bed. Natasha steps into them without untying them, wiggling until her feet are inside. “I should've brought your Crocs, that would have been the smart thing.”
“It's okay, my feet are the only thing that don't hurt. Really, these are fine. You are an angel, girl.” Natasha is pulling her fleece hoodie on as she walks gingerly toward the door. Liz says, “Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
“I have to go help Boris. The cops have got him, and he's not the guy.”
“Wait, why not call? What's that cop's name, Lawrence?”
“Lewis. Okay, I guess that'd work. I just can't stand the idea of them picking on Bo.”
Liz suppresses a smile as she flips open her phone.
How can Natasha be so worried about a guy like Boris getting picked on? Boris can take care of himself.
“Yes, could I speak to Detective Lewis please?”
Natasha leans on the closet door, breathing. Waiting, while Liz waits. How could they take in Boris! “No, I need to speak to her now.” Liz rolls her eyes. “Yes, that's what we need to talk to her about. Natasha says he isn't the guy.” Natasha zips up the hoodie, and turns to leave the room. “But she is sure.” starting to sound angrier, “Look, I'm not four years old and I'm certainly not making this up. Look, Natasha needs to speak to the detective. No, not later. Now.”
Glancing back at the door Liz sees Natasha is gone. She snaps the phone closed and hurries after her friend.
chapter 83 . . .
Amelia's heart pounds as she glances over her shoulder.
What was that noise?
Or that one. A footstep?
Oh, God. It sounded like somebody getting hit.
Why didn't she listen to her inner voice? What the heck is she doing walking around out here in the dark when there's a fucking rapist loose on campus?
Stupid stupid stupid.
There's a rustling in the trees beside her. She has no idea how to even guess what it is. Is it some kind of animal? Squirrels are sleeping now, right? What animals are awake at night? Skunks? Oh, wouldn't that be great. Owls. Mice too, oh and bats. Maybe a raccoon?
It could just as easily be a human predator. How do you tell? Characters in books and movies always know. How?
She's read about using keys as a weapon, so she holds the ring in her palm, pushing the pointy ends of the keys between her knuckles. It's supposed to make a big impression if you have to punch somebody.
Well.
Gives her something to hold onto anyway.
Just walk faster. Take the right branch of the path and go to the pub instead. Much closer than the Res and there's bound to be somebody to walk home with from there. Someplace bright. She needs light and people and noise. Not quiet and dark like this.
Danger.
She should have thought all this through before blundering out into the night.
Stupid.
Why is it she can meticulously plan out every detail in an outline but her life is so totally haphazard? Start getting organized. Pay more attention to the real world, and less to fictional characters.
Just walk a little faster. Don't be such a wuss.
There's nothing out here. Nothing bad ever happens to her. She's too ordinary. Nothing here to interest a monster. Just a boring middle class girl with boring middle class dreams and — crack.
What was that?
Shit. Her heart is pounding.
Where did that come from? What was that?
Walk a little faster.
Stop it. Nothing bad ever happens to her. Nothing bad is likely to happen. Hell, it's hard to be a novelist with life experience this boring. Boring Amelia, follows the rules. Not at all interesting.
Never breaking a bone, getting knocked up, rolling the car, or getting caught shoplifting. Everybody else, never her. She doesn't do wild and crazy things. No. She's too boring. She's always tucked up somewhere with a book. Oh god.
Maybe that means it's her turn now.
No. Don't be an idiot. What are the odds? Well, let's think about this for a minute. Since all the intelligent women are taking sensible precautions, since they aren't running around in the dark all by themselves in the middle of the night. Well, those women have it made.
If the limp-dick-rat-bastard-rapist is out hunting, she is probably the easiest target going.
But what are the odds?
Probably better than she wants.
She's got her cell phone. What could happen?
Hmm. Quite a lot before help could possibly arrive.
That's the problem.
It can't be far to the pub now anyway.
Funny how close it always seemed in the daylight.
Stay calm, that's the ticket.
One time a nurse told her hospital medical staff aren't supposed run, even in an emergency, because it triggers the flight response and adrenaline floods through them and makes them all jittery. They need to keep calm to properly assess the nature of the medical emergency to treat it.
So the same thing should be true here, right? Running will just make her more scared.
Right?
Except the sound of feet pounding on the path behind her sends a cold spike of terror down her spine. Making her heart pound faster. Goddamn. Somebody is running toward her.
Fuck the path. She dives into the bushes and cowers behind a tree as the running feet come closer.
Screw this victim crap. Time to call Dudley Do-right. But Eric will have to do. She pulls out her cell phone and punches in his number. He's in the library tonight.
She holds her breath as the number dials while the pounding footsteps come closer. She squeezes her eyes closed and holds her breath as the sound of the feet get closer and then . . . run past. She is about to start breathing again when she realizes that there are a second pair of feet running past. Oh my god it IS the rapist and he's chasing somebody. Gotta help stop the bastard.
She steps out on the path and starts following the sound of running feet. Suddenly she hears the sound of a ringing cell phone. And Eric's voice is coming out of the phone still clutched in her hand, improbably saying, “I would've won if I didn't have to stop to answer the phone. Hello?”
And from the path ahead she hears Jose laughing. Jesus they scared her half to death and they were running a footrace? In the dark? In the middle of the night?
Men are nuts. Sheesh.
Amelia says into the phone, “Hey Eric is that you? I'm done work and I was gonna drop by the pub and grab a beer. You wanna come?”
chapter 84 . . .
Several empty beer glasses adorn the table in
the booth Barbie and Tamara share along the back wall of the pub. Barbie looks clear as a button, but Tamara is swaying and unfocused. Slurring her words.
“That bastard, I have no idea when he even came in last night.”
“Did you ask him?”
“I'm not gonna give him the satisfaction. He wants to know he can tell me.”
Barbie bites back a chuckle, “You mean you're going to ask or you want him to tell you?”
“Yeah that's what I said.”
chapter 85 . . .
The cab pulls up in front of the police station, and Liz pays the driver before going around to help Natasha get out.
Her friend looks smaller than usual and there is a gray cast to her skin Liz hadn't noticed at the hospital. But there's no stopping her, so she just helps, slamming the door and waving at the driver.
Liz follows Natasha through the doorway and to the front desk where she leans on the counter waiting for the officer to hang up the phone.
“No, he won't be back on until tomorrow. Yes, that's right. Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and takes in the two girls. “Can I help you ladies?”
Natasha nods. “Yes, I'm here to see Detective Lewis.”
He shakes his head, “I'm sorry ma'am, she's busy at the moment. Do you have an appointment?”
“No, no appointment, but I need to see her now.” Natasha repeats quietly but firmly.
“Are you the lady who called earlier?” he asks, getting it.
“No,” Liz tells him, “That was me. I was trying to keep her in the hospital.”
“I need to see Detective Lewis.”
Shaking his head in frustration, “I'm sorry ma'am, that's just not possible.”
“Why can't you just tell her I'm here.”
“I will, as soon as she comes out.”
“And how long will that be?”
“I don't know. As long as it takes.”
“And in the mean time she's questioning the one guy I know didn't attack me. How would you feel if that was you in there?” she frowns at him.
“What are you talking about, lady?”
chapter 86 . . .
Oscar and Quentin walk Krystal to her car. “Look you guys don't have to do this.”
“Don't be stupid. Until they catch the guy people need to watch out for each other,” says Oscar.
Quentin adds, “You don't want to end up like Natasha.”
Krystal says, “But I don't want to be a bother,” as they arrive at her car.
“One second,” says Quentin as he peers through the rear window to make sure the back seat area is really empty. “Always check the back before unlocking the door.”
Krystal nods then unlocks it. “Thanks, Q, I never would have thought of that. How's Tamara handling all this?”
“Damned if I know, she's not talking to me. Near as I can tell she's bunking with Barbie. At least she's not on her own.”
“Oh Q, I'm sorry.” she says.
“Don't worry, Krys. It might even be for the best.”
Krystal slides in behind the wheel and starts the engine.
“Sorry I couldn't concentrate, Oz. I wasn't trying to totally wreck your evening.”
Oscar grins. “No worries. The evening is just starting. We're heading out to the pub.”
Krystal laughs. “Okay, you have fun then. Thanks guys.”
“We'll do our best lass. Drive safe.”
“Lets get a move on,” suggests Quentin.
“Lead on McDuff, I'm bloody freezing.” As she pulls out of the lot they jog back down the path.
chapter 87 . . .
Mouse, Maggie and Kate sit at the bar in the pub as Elsie intently tries to peel the label off her beer bottle. It isn't coming off easily, she has to scrape and fiddle with it. As fragments peel off she adds them to the pile of shreds on the bar.
Mouse says, “I think it sucks. Just because some creep is running around hurting women we're all supposed to cower behind closed doors waiting for big men to keep us safe?”
Elsie shakes her head. “This is the twenty first century for god's sake, not Victorian England.”
“Works for me.” Maggie sees how annoyed they are so she says, “All we need to do is buddy up until they get him.”
Mouse turns to Maggie. “Kate said you met the rapist.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It was a flasher. He jumped out of the woods in the rape zone.”
“No!” Mouse laughs out loud. “What did you do?
“It was ridiculous. So I just laughed. At him. I guess he didn't know how to handle it and he just took off.”
“That was brilliant, Maggie.” says Mouse. “What made you think to do that?”
“No thinking, Mouse, it just happened.”
Kate says, “It was brave.”
“I hope this isn't the same guy 'cause I never reported it.”
“This sounds like a timid man, not the same man I think.”
“Maybe not, but Officer Wolfrom said it might be.”
“I wouldn't worry about it,” says Elsie. “Mouse is right. A flasher is minor. What happened to Natasha was not.”
“They don't even know if it's some random guy or if Natasha was targeted specifically.” says Maggie.
“Who would do something like that to Natasha on purpose? Surely she has no enemy that would do this thing.” Mouse frowns. “It would have to be a serious enemy. I do not like to think this, but the rapist must still be out there.”
It's quiet as they all stare at Mouse, wishing she hadn't said it out loud.
“I got the idea they think it might be Boris.” Maggie says.
“Not a chance!” snaps Elsie.
“I don't think it's him either, but when it comes down to it, how do you know that about somebody?” asks Maggie.
“It isn't in his nature.”
“You can't know that Elsie.”
“Yes I can. I saw him that afternoon, Maggie. The guy was devastated.”
“You think he's innocent because he was upset? How do you know he wasn't upset because he'd attacked Natasha?”
“I don't buy that.” Elsie shakes her head. “He was too fragile.”
“That's crap Else and you know it.” Maggie says. “It could be anyone without a solid alibi. So maybe it is Boris. Or Eric. Or even Jake.”
Elsie says, “Then don't leave out Oscar. Or Nick either for that matter.”
Maggie nods slowly. “You're right we can't. How well does anyone know anyone? People see what they want to see. I mean look at Dexter.”
Kate snorts. “Maggie, Dexter is a fictional character. Look, you guys can think what you want but I know it's not Nick.”
“You know what they say,” Elsie says, “The wife's always the last to know.”
Kate glares at Elsie so Mouse leans in and says. “The police will investigate. Arguing will not solve anything.”
Kate says, “It could be anybody. Except Nick.”
Suddenly there's a strange man standing beside Elsie and they all startle, except Elsie.
Making eye contact with Elsie, he says, “Hey there, my name's Harry, and I was wondering if you'd maybe like to dance?”
Elsie smiles and slides off the stool. “Hi, Harry, I'm Elsie, and I would love to dance with you.”
The others silently watch Elsie follow Harry to select songs from the jukebox before heading onto the tiny dance floor.
Mouse says, “How does she do that?”
“She must transmit some kind of subliminal 'come hither' signal,” says Maggie.
Kate laughs. “That's it exactly. It's called pheromones.”
Mouse says, “Maybe that's the guy.”
“That'd be convenient.”
“Well, yeah. Then it wouldn't have to be somebody we know.”
“Don't say that, Maggie” insists Mouse. “I want to be able to sleep at night.”
Elsie's chosen an Allison Crowe torch song from the jukebox. It's a very slow dance. Naturally. Elsie slides into Harry's a
rms and they begin to dance.
Sighing heavily, Maggie says, “If he is the guy, after Elsie's through with him he won't be bothering anyone tonight.”
Elsie and Harry sway to the music, pressed as tightly together as is possible. Elsie's auburn mane undulates, drawing a veil across a good bit of the face to face contact.
Mouse frowns. “Rape isn't about sex, Maggie. It is about violent domination.”
Maggie says, “Yeah I know. I was trying to make a joke.”
Kate says, “Bad taste.”
Harry and Elsie steam up the dance floor, clearly enjoying themselves as they bump and grind. And grind.
The side door to the pub opens and Jose walks in, followed by Eric. On his way into the room Eric's attention is caught by the familiar torch song. He glances over at the dance floor and stops dead as his eyes light on Elsie. On the dance floor with some guy.
Coming in after, Amelia only just manages to not run into Eric. He just stands there, mesmerized, watching as Elsie running her hands down some guy's back and grabbing his butt. Elsie throws her head back and the guy nuzzles her neck, more groping than dancing.
Amelia grits her teeth at the sight of the Medusa screwing up some other poor schmuck. Eric certainly doesn't look like he's gotten over her. His rigid back tells her that Elsie is carving two notches for the price of one.
As Allison Crowe sings passionately about how she never loved a man, Amelia can't believe the fury she feels wash over her as she watches that bitch Elsie giving all women a bad name. Why do guys fall for women like that?
Every time.
Poor sap.
Elsie locks her eyes on Eric and smiles. She licks her lips and arches her back, doing some groping of her own, all the time keeping her eyes on Eric. Amelia is floored by the viciousness of it, just as Eric turns on his heel and stalks out.
Jose is ordering a drink at the bar before he realizes that he's lost Eric. He sees Mouse, Maggie and Kate sitting on the other side of the bar when Maggie smiles and waves. The three witches, Jose thinks, as Amelia joins him.
“What happened to Eric?” he asks.
“She did,” Amelia says, nodding gesturing back toward Elsie's display on the dance floor.
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