Undeniable (Tortured Love Book 4)

by Ravenna Tate

  “I see.” Rosanna stood up taller as she eyed Annie. “Will that flash drive be safe?”

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, babe.”

  “Do I need an attorney?”

  “It’s your right to have one present, even for questions. You know that.”

  “Can you be with me?”

  “You know I can’t do that, Rosanna.”

  “Are you off this case?”

  As Houston and Annie exchanged a quick glance, Annie nodded imperceptibly.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “In that case, I want one.” Rosanna pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to Houston. “Call Emily Lannister. Her number is in there. She’ll know what to do.” Rosanna eyed the contents of her locker, strewn all over the counter. “Before we leave, can we put my things back in there so no one steals them?”

  “Of course,” said Annie. “I’ll help you do it.”

  Once that was done, Rosanna told Annie she was ready to go. She hadn’t slept in two days, but in those two days she had come to terms with what she had done twelve years ago. She had left Brian Wayside alone in a field to die.

  What he and Mike had done to her would never justify him dying for it, but she wasn’t going to go down for his death without everyone knowing what had happened to her the night before. And now she had undeniable proof.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  If Houston had been allowed to sit in the interrogation room with her while she waited for an attorney to show up, it would have been easier to deal with the fear and doubt that crept into her mind. She also wished she had her phone back. Would Houston know to call JoElle, as well as her supervisor? Why hadn’t she asked him to do that?

  The silence during the ride to the station had given Rosanna too much time to come to terms with her situation. She’d felt brave and ready to face her fate in the locker room because Houston was there, and because Annie hadn’t been an asshole to her, like she had expected.

  Now, sitting in this dimly lit room that smelled of stale body odor and pine cleaner, and wishing she had a different chair besides this highly uncomfortable metal one, she no longer felt confident or resigned. She only wanted to go home and pretend none of this had ever happened.

  The click of a door handle was the sweetest sound she’d heard today. Rosanna stood, eyeing the impeccably dressed woman who walked into the room. The woman placed a very expensive leather briefcase on the table before walking toward Rosanna, a warm smile on her face, and a perfectly manicured hand extended.

  “Lenore Penny of Hollister, Bent, and Penny. Emily Lannister and I go way back.”

  Hollister, Bent, and Penny was the most prestigious law firm in northeast Ohio. How in the world would she afford this woman? “Rosanna Selim. Thank you for coming.”

  “My pleasure.” Lenore took a seat, so Rosanna took hers again, pointing toward the one-way mirror. “Are they listening?”

  “Probably.” Lenore opened her briefcase and took out a legal pad.

  “Are they allowed to do that?”

  “No, but they do it anyway. I know you’ve told this story already to several people, but I need to hear it from you again, now.”

  Rosanna began with the intensification of the dreams and images, after Houston told her about an old case. She spared Lenore no details, relaying everything she recalled about the party, the rapes, and the morning after. She also told her about the flash drive, and that it was in an evidence bag right now.

  “They’ve contacted the ADA. I’ve asked to be with them when they view the flash drive. But in the meantime, it’s possible they will charge you as soon as Detective Walters is finished questioning you.”

  A horrible sinking sensation enveloped her. Intellectually, she had expected to spend time in jail. But now that the reality was upon her, she no longer felt able to deal with it. “I understand.”

  “I’m going to allow you to answer the detective’s questions, because I feel certain once we see what’s on that flash drive, the DA will decide not to prosecute you.”

  “But I killed him.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “I pushed him, he fell, he bled into his brain, and he died.”

  “Exactly. The brain bleed is what likely killed him, not the fall. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I need to view the autopsy report, and speak with several neurosurgeons with whom we’ve worked in the past. Let’s get through today, first.”

  “What about my sessions with Dr. Thompson? Those should help.”

  “I have some problems with allowing them to examine your records from Dr. Thompson.”

  “Why? Wouldn’t they prove that I didn’t recall any of it until she hypnotized me?”

  “Since it’s already come to my attention that Detective Cassidy told them what he observed and heard after you came out of hypnosis, I’ve asked them to have him type up a statement. That, we won’t contest.”

  “May I ask what the difference is?”

  “The detective was not in the hypnosis session with you. You had no opportunity to consent to his being there, yet at the time, he had knowledge that you were in the frat house that night, and that you were likely the young woman described by three witnesses, one of whom knew about the rape. Those records might prove he withheld information about the case, and since you have a romantic relationship with him, they could seriously call into question whether your memory loss was legitimate.”

  How screwed up was that? Houston had only been there to support her, but that fact might end up ruining his career and hurting her case. “What about the flash drive? Surely that won’t be suppressed. Annie collected it by the book.”

  “I agree. She did. That, we can use. But that will likely help you more than hurt you. And I doubt we’ll get as far as court once it’s viewed.”

  “Can’t they insist on having a department psychologist examine me?”

  “Yes, but since the memories are now recovered, it wouldn’t be of much use to their case. A psychologist can’t determine whether or not you were faking focal retrograde amnesia, once the memories have returned.”

  “This doesn’t seem right.”

  “What doesn’t seem right about it?”

  “I get the impression I’m about to get away with murder.”

  “You watch scenarios like this play out every day, Rosanna.”

  “Yes, I do.” And Houston had called her on the fact that she was fascinated with it.

  While Rosanna watched Lenore scribble on her legal pad, she recalled something JoElle had said to her recently. Rosanna had remarked on the fact that she would likely become one of the defendants their firm handled every day. JoElle had asked her if she now understood why her compulsion to work for a criminal defense firm had been so strong, and it was as if someone flipped a switch as soon as JoElle asked the question.

  Underneath it all, in the deep recesses of her mind where she hadn’t quite been able to go, she had sought out this particular area of the law because of her guilt. Because she knew, unconsciously, that she had left Brian Wayside in a field to die, and one day the truth would come out.

  Lenore glanced up from her notes. “You ready to do this?”

  “Yes.”

  After Annie came into the room and was seated, Rosanna’s palms began to sweat. She wiped them on her jeans and forced herself to look Annie straight in the eyes. There was nothing to hide now, after all.

  “Aside from Mike Rowland,” asked Annie, “did anyone else who participated in the rapes that night ever contact you?”

  How did she say things like that and not even flinch? Was this what it was like when Houston interviewed a perp? “No. No one contacted me except Mike, but I never answered his calls or text messages.”

  “Just answer the question,” said Lenore, quietly. Rosanna nodded, wanting instead to cry. She knew better than to ramble. This was far more difficult than she had imagined it would be, despite the fact that every
one knew the whole story now.

  “How about a family member of the other fraternity members?”

  “No.”

  “A university official? Or someone from the fraternity’s national chapter?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever tell a medical professional what happened to you that night?”

  “No.”

  “And you never went to the police, correct?”

  “I did not.”

  “What about the others who were at the party? Did you speak with any of them again?”

  “No.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?”

  “She’s not going to answer that,” said Lenore.

  “Was Brian Wayside breathing when you left the field?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t check.” Rosanna wiped her palms again. Annie would see that.

  “Was he moving?”

  “No.”

  “Were his eyes open?”

  Oh God… “No.”

  “When did you find out he was dead?”

  “When I recalled the memories from that morning in Dr. Thompson’s office.”

  “How much lapsed time did you recall during the hypnosis?”

  “She’s not answering that, either.”

  “The DA can subpoena the records.”

  Lenore said nothing, merely gazed at Annie with an impassive face. Rosanna wished she could do that right now. She was sweating bullets.

  “I have no more questions for now.” Annie leaned back in her chair.

  “What else do you need from us today?” asked Lenore, glancing at her cell phone.

  Annie stood. “I’ll let you know.”

  While they waited for Annie to return, Lenore checked the emails on her phone. Rosanna could understand that to a point, but she was terrified right now, and wished Lenore would offer some words of encouragement. If only Houston was here. He’d tell her everything was going to be okay.

  They could hold her for up to seventy-two hours before charging her, but would they really do that? And if they did, would they allow Houston to see her? Unless he was suspended, they couldn’t keep him from coming into the station. But if they arrested her, she might not be held here until her arraignment. They could send her to the county jail to wait it out.

  The earlier determination to suck it up and pay for the crime she’d committed faded as she imagined being inside a jail cell, even for a couple of days. This room was bad enough. It was suddenly difficult to breathe, and she needed to move.

  After rising, she began to pace until it caught Lenore’s attention. “Rosanna, you’re all right. I promise you that we will get you through this.”

  “He’s dead because of me. I hit him with my bag, and he fell. I left him there.”

  “The autopsy might not show that.”

  “But if I had called the police, they would have taken him to a hospital. He might have survived.”

  “We don’t know that. We will never know that. Rosanna, they can’t win a conviction against you for murder when the victim was alive for four days, and was able to drag himself a quarter of a mile through that field. A jury will never make that leap. There’s too much doubt. Too many variables. I know of five neurosurgeons off the top of my head who will testify that even if Brian had gone straight to an ICU, there’s no guarantee he would have lived, or come out of that injury without residual damage.”

  “But if he hadn’t fallen in the first place, he wouldn’t have hit his head.”

  “Exactly. He fell. You did not push him. You did not pick up the rock and hit him with it. He tripped and fell.”

  “Regardless, I will still blame myself for his death for the rest of my life.”

  “Dr. Thompson may be able to help you come to terms with that.”

  “When his family learns about my involvement, they’ll have the right to file a wrongful death suit.”

  A pained look settled over Lenore’s face. “It’s likely you didn’t hear about this, or if you did, you never made the connection because the memories were suppressed. Brian was an only child. His mother committed suicide two years after he died, and his father sold his orthopedic practice shortly after he lost his wife. He lives with a cousin in Wyoming, and no longer practices medicine.”

  As Rosanna glanced toward the one-way mirror, a small sound of despair escaped her throat. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” So now she was responsible for two deaths, not one.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Before she could ask Lenore another question, Annie and a man Rosanna assumed was Ty came into the room.

  “Miss Selim, I’m Ty Abilene, station Commander.” He shook Rosanna’s hand. “Houston is typing up his statement, and we’ll let your attorney read it as soon as he’s done. In the meantime, we’re moving you to a cell until the ADA and the DA can review the contents of the flash drive, plus the notes from Detectives Walters and Cassidy.”

  “Is my client under arrest?”

  “Not at this time, counselor.”

  “Why can’t I stay here?” Even as Rosanna asked it, she knew it was pointless.

  “You’ll be all right,” said Lenore.

  Easy for you to say.

  The cell was in an area of the building where there weren’t others around. A desk sergeant was within shouting distance, and there was a camera on her. The cot was fairly clean, and she was told she would be escorted to the bathroom whenever she needed to use it, so at least she didn’t have to pee in full view of anyone watching the security footage.

  But it was still a jail cell. After Rosanna used the bathroom and was given something to drink, she tried not to cry once the door was closed. Lenore stayed with her for a few moments, but then told her she had to leave.

  “I want to be here when the ADA and the DA arrive, and when they watch what’s on that flash drive.”

  “So you’re staying at the station?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you please ask them if Houston can come and see me once he’s finished?”

  “I will ask.”

  The loneliest sound in the world had to be someone’s footsteps, walking away, while you listened from inside a jail cell. She wasn’t technically alone, but it sure felt that way once she could no longer hear Lenore’s heels clicking on the tiles. The only noise came from the HVAC system, and an occasional door slamming somewhere inside the building.

  If only she had her phone, or a book. Or even a piece of paper and a pen. The cell wasn’t very large. She barely had room to pace, and panic set in quickly. The blinking red light on the camera was the only evidence that another human being knew she was here. If she fainted, would someone come?

  What if the desk sergeant or the person watching the security footage was doing something else at the time? They were human beings. A closed circuit system was only as reliable as the person or computer monitoring it.

  Napping was out of the question, although she did try. She should be exhausted by now, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Brian lying in that field. Her imagination went into overdrive, feeding her images of being inside a holding cell with dozens of other women, spending days, weeks, months incarcerated.

  That wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t. But wasn’t that exactly what she deserved? What if she was convicted of murder two? She would end up in one of the state penitentiaries. Rosanna had been in them often enough to easily imagine what life would be like.

  The tears came freely now. All she had to wipe them away were her hands. One bad decision—driving to the CWRU campus that weekend—had led to this. Yes, she’d been gang raped that night as well. And yes, it might have happened at any party. But if she’d stayed home that weekend… That wasn’t fair. Like she’d thought a second ago, it might have happened anyway, only on a different date. Brian was who he was. He wouldn’t have changed the next week, or in the weeks after that night.

  ****

  A
noise startled Rosanna, and she sat up, unable to remember where she was for a brief moment. The noise grew louder, until she realized it was someone walking down the hall. Those weren’t high heels clicking on the tiles. Those were men’s shoes.

  “Babe…” As soon as his face came into view, she began to cry again. Houston reached through the bars and held her hands. “It’s all right. You’re okay.”

  “Can’t you please come in here with me?”

  “Hang on a bit longer. They just finished watching the flash drive.”

  “What? I must have fallen asleep.”

  “I’m glad you finally were able to.”

  Oh God… The flash drive. “Did you watch it?” Please say “no!”

  “I did not.”

  “Who did?”

  “Your attorney, the DA, the ADA, Ty, and Annie.”

  It was difficult to imagine how she’d face any of them now. “What’s going to happen to me?”

  Houston glanced toward the camera, leaned as close as possible, and whispered, “Between you, me, and the lamppost, I don’t think they’ll charge you after viewing the flash drive. Annie said it was graphic and horrible. She told me that she doubts the DA would want a jury to see it, and Lenore is already making noises about how she would make sure they did.”

  While that was wonderful news for her, it also meant she just got away with murder.

  Houston found a chair and sat on the other side of the bars until Annie and Lenore arrived.

  “We’re going back to one of the interrogation rooms so we can wrap this up,” said Annie. “Then you’re free to go.”

  Once they were seated in a different room this time, one that didn’t smell quite as bad as the other room, Lenore got right down to business. “I’ve spoken with ADA Alicia Obaje and with DA Eden Turay. I’ve also had a chance to review Detective Cassidy’s statement, plus the autopsy.”

  “You had time to read the autopsy?”

  “It’s public record. Brian was still alive when you left. The autopsy showed that.”

  Somehow, that was worse.

  “But I had—”

  “Rosanna, you didn’t kill him. The brain bleed did. Surely you’ve seen cases like this before?”