Long Hill Home

by Kathryn Pincus

  Kelly inhaled the smell of his skin and felt the back of his shaggy hair with her fingers. “I am going to go talk to someone, I think.” Kelly loosened her arms around Dan a little.

  “What do you mean? Talk to whom and about what?”

  “I think I’m going to talk to a counselor. I got a business card for someone from the doctors or the police, I don’t remember. My body is healing, but inside my head is still a mess.” Kelly thought of the business card that she had deliberately hidden in the recesses of her recipe box on their kitchen counter.

  “I think that is great, Kel…. I love you.”

  A moment later, Dan snored softly. Kelly gently extricated herself from his arms and rolled over. It seemed as if she had just fallen asleep when a loud ringing sound pierced the silence of Kelly’s dreams. She was covered in sweat and out of breath as she desperately tried to run away from a ferocious brown wolf. She braced for the tearing of sharp fangs, while the shrill ringing woke her. She leaned over to grab the phone on her night table. The red letters on her alarm clock read 11:45. Dan woke and struggled to put a pillow over his head in response to the ringing phone.

  “Hello?” Kelly half-greeted and half-asked the telephone’s mouthpiece in a groggy voice.

  “Kel! It’s Sam. I’m sorry it’s so late but I was down in the Kent County courthouse all evening and just got back to plow through my inbox. I have the DNA lab results.”

  “Sam?” Kelly asked as she scratched her head, still trying to shrug off the deep sleep. She watched Dan turn over and remove the pillow he had put over his head a moment ago.

  “Kel, we finally found some DNA that is going to be useful, from the clothing you wore on the day of the attack. We just got the test results and it does not match the guy they have been holding, Chad McCloskey. Tomorrow morning I expect to get an arrest warrant and a request for DNA from Jack Barnard.”

  Kelly sat up straight at the edge of the bed, fully awake. “What if he does not agree to DNA testing?” Kelly asked.

  “I can file papers to compel that, but I doubt he’ll refuse. If we already have him arrested, he will look guilty by refusing, and he’ll know his refusal will be in vain too, because the court eventually will order it. Plus, Barnard is a lawyer and he has a gigantic ego, so I bet he thinks that he was too smart and too careful to leave DNA.”

  Kelly felt a wave of fear as Sam confirmed that her attacker was still out there, and not random at all. He knew her. He chose her specifically to violate and hurt and humiliate. With the phone in one hand, she hastily got out of bed and walked to the security alarm panel on the wall by the doorway to their bedroom. Its red light and the word armed gave her some comfort. She stepped into the hallway and whispered, “Sam, am I in any danger?”

  Sam exhaled deeply. “No way, Kel. There has been no way that he knows we are even on to him, and tomorrow will be like a blitzkrieg with an arrest, a quick DNA test and, hopefully, grounds to hold him until trial.” Sam paused for a moment, trying to think of something else to help calm his longtime friend. “Oh, and don’t forget, we have a witness who saw a man who looked like Barnard shooting you and carrying you away into the woods.”

  Kelly vaguely remembered a reference to a witness. “What’s the deal there? Who is she?”

  “Some woman called the Wilmington police tip line to report your attack. She has been difficult to speak with. I am afraid she is an illegal immigrant, so she is a reluctant witness. I’ll fill you in on that later in the week as we get further.”

  Kelly recalled her run through the woods on that fateful day; the dazzling new sunlight on the river, the sweet smell of a September morning and her running shoes moving over the soft earth. Somewhere in the midst of that beautiful and tranquil moment, Jack Barnard was lying in wait to attack her and to destroy her. And, beyond that, a nameless woman silently watched in horror.

  “Sam?” Kelly asked, with hesitation. “This is a little embarrassing, but where did they get a DNA sample? I thought they told me that he used a condom.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is a bit awkward, between old friends. But you and I are both professionals, and so we’ll have to get beyond that.” Sam cleared his throat. “They found a small semen stain on your running shorts, Kel. Some must have spilled out of the condom as he got off of you or as he took it off.” He tried to sound solid, matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing evidence with a colleague regarding an unknown victim. “Hey, Kel?” Sam waited a minute for a response. Getting nothing but silence, he continued. “This is going to have rough spots. It is going to be filled with a world of hurt, and painfully intimate physical details and even moments of humiliation for you.”

  “I got a taste of that already, Sam, when they were poking around inside of me for evidence and taking photographs of bruises on my private parts.” Kelly tried hard to remember where her running shorts were when the monster completed his act. She remembered only that they had been yanked off of her legs and over her shoes.

  “It is really hard for me to talk like this with you, uhm, about you, and I have prosecuted rape cases before. I can’t even imagine how it makes you feel.”

  “Or Dan,” Kelly murmured.

  “Yeah, of course. Dan too. It’s going to be really hard on Dan, too.”

  As Kelly sat in the dimly lit hallway listening to her dear friend, she realized that her hand holding the receiver was shaking uncontrollably. “Sam?”

  “Yeah, Kel?”

  Kelly winced a little at the sound of his voice. His love for her came through in every word. She loved him and trusted him like a best friend, but she never could love him romantically. “Thanks. I can’t thank you enough for being here for me.” Kelly started crying quietly.

  “Shhh, Kel. Come on, it’s going to be all right. We have got this guy as good as nailed now. Kel, I was going to fax you over a copy of the arrest warrant and the complaint and supporting affidavits, but I kind of think you shouldn’t have to read all of those details right now. Okay?”

  Kelly continued to sob softly. Sam was silent and helpless on the other end of the line.

  Finally, he heard her speak. “I guess you’re right Sam. I know you’ve got this. And I am not ready to see the details.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow after he is arrested and let you know where we are.” Sam said hastily. “Good night, Kel. Hang in there.”

  CHAPTER 24

  JACK BARNARD: SEPTEMBER 28-29, 2011

  JACK BARNARD PULLED back his sleeve to expose his thick gold Rolex watch. It was eight thirty-five and the waiter had not even brought their first course. His gesture had the desired effect.

  “Wow, that is a gorgeous watch,” the twenty-eight-year-old woman with wavy blond hair and tremendous breasts exclaimed as she extended her arms across the table to examine it up close. Her name was Sandy, or maybe Shelly, he wasn’t sure.

  Barnard had been fixed up on this date by a sales rep from a legal copy service company. She had been described as a “sure thing” to Barnard, and he knew what that meant. If he had to buy dinner and drive to Philadelphia to meet her, he better get laid. Bringing her to the swanky Fountain Restaurant at the Four Seasons Hotel and then driving her back to his penthouse in his Jaguar would do the trick. Her inane conversation became white noise as Barnard pictured what he would do to her when he got her there. Once she was intoxicated with too much wine and the ride in his new Jag, she would be putty in his hands. He tried to picture her with her dress off.

  “Jack? Jack, what do you think?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I was thinking about one of my cases there for a moment. I’m sorry, I am just under a lot of pressure.”

  “I’ve told you enough about myself. Why don’t you tell me about you?” She twirled her hair in her fingers and bent over a little so Barnard could see more of her cleavage.

  “Uhm. I grew up in Wilmington. Went to Concord High School, then Texas Tech for college, and I played linebacker there,” he pointed to his Texas Tech ring in case
she had missed it. “Then Widener Law School, and then became a trial attorney, opened my own shop four years out and never looked back.”

  The woman, named Sandy—or Shelly—giggled. “Jack, I’m not interested in your résumé. Who are you? What have you done other than go to those schools, play football and practice law?”

  Barnard paused while their waiter placed their first courses on the table. Thank God, he thought. He finished it in three quick bites. “Okay, well, my dad was a lawyer in Delaware and he was a ball-breaker. He was always the big man in the community, in the newspaper for all his good charitable works, paying for inner-city kids’ basketball uniforms, getting ball fields named after him, you know—the big saint and hero. Everywhere he went people knew him and thought he was such a great guy.”

  “You sound like you didn’t think so. I think that…”

  As his date kept talking, Barnard dug into his entrée. He saw flashbacks of his father flaunting his infidelity, or his mother crying at night after she suffered another indignity, or worse—a hand to the back of her face for complaining about it. He hated his father for doing these things, but he hated his mother even more for letting him. He couldn’t respect her and he stopped feeling sorry for her.

  “Well which is it, hero and saint or ball-buster?” Sandy or Shelly was starting to annoy him.

  “A little of both, I guess.” Barnard remembered how his father came to all of his football and basketball games, always looking like the supportive father, only to smack him across the head and call him a loser when they were alone in his car because of a dropped pass or a missed foul shot.

  When the waiter brought the dessert menu, Barnard waived him off. “Just a check, please.” Then he leaned in toward the table and said quietly, “I have a much better idea for dessert.”

  *****

  As Barnard brought the blonde up the elevator, she was just starting to slump over. He had put his arm around her and held her up as she shuffled toward his door. He opened the door to his penthouse and moved her quickly to the bedroom. He did not want her to lose consciousness; that was no fun. She giggled as he threw her on the bed and started tearing at her dress. He wanted her naked and under him and at his disposal.

  “Oh, you like it rough, huh?” She giggled.

  He wished he had gone easier on the wine. She was too easy already, and maybe close to passing out. He had to hurry. “I do like it rough. And you do, too, because I know you are a bad girl.” He grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his bureau.

  She laughed a little, as if she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. Her face registered concern.

  Now Barnard was aroused and had to hurry. He had mastered the balance of fear and physical dominance, consensual and coerced. The trick was to not go over to the side where the woman would know with certainty that she had actually been victimized, that she hadn’t played along willingly with a game she regretted. Barnard was always careful to not leave a mark.

  *****

  The phone rang next to Jack’s disordered bed, waking him up. “Hello,” Barnard growled into the phone. The sky was turning from black to orange outside the floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows.

  “Jack, it’s Micky. I just got back to the station after my shift and I saw arrest warrant papers with your name on them.”

  “What? Who is this?” Barnard’s head throbbed from the Scotch, the wine and the crazy bitch who wouldn’t stop pawing him when he was trying to sleep, as if they had some intimate connection. A tumble of blond hair stirred next to him in bed and then rolled away.

  “Jack, focus. It’s me, Micky. You know, your friend from the old neighborhood….”

  “Oh, yeah. What the hell are you calling me at this hour for?”

  “I have night patrol duty all this week. I got back to the station at six this morning and was pouring a cup of coffee and chatting with some of the guys when I found out they are getting ready to execute an arrest warrant. They are coming for you, buddy, and it has something to do with that attack by the river last week.”

  Barnard hung up the phone. Panic surged as he went into flight mode. He dressed quickly and then emptied his dresser drawers and closet in huge armfuls, pressing jeans, shirts, suits, shoes and socks into a large suitcase with wheels.

  “What are you doing? What’s going on?” The blonde stirred.

  “I have a case blowing up and I have to get on a plane as soon as possible.”

  The woman sat up in bed. Her mascara had smeared under her eyes and her hair was matted from hairspray and Barnard’s rough foreplay. “How am I supposed to get back to Philly?”

  “I don’t give a—” Barnard caught himself mid-sentence. He couldn’t leave this woman here, in this condition, if the police where coming to his home to arrest him for rape. “I mean, I hadn’t thought about that. I am in a tremendous hurry, so I’ll get you to the airport and then put you in a cab from there.”

  As the blonde freshened up in the bathroom, Barnard grabbed a billfold thick with cash that he kept for emergencies, plus his wallet and his passport and shoved them all in his briefcase. Moments later they were driving 80 miles per hour on I-95 North.

  Mercifully, the woman kept her mouth shut and leaned against the car window sleepily. Barnard went over it in his mind. How could they finger me? I was too careful. I hadn’t left a trace. He went over the details in his mind, in order. No one could have seen me that morning by the shed. I checked and checked that morning and I’ve been there at that same time countless other mornings. Malloy could not have seen me… I hit her from behind and did not approach her until she was knocked out. Then she was blindfolded. I didn’t leave any DNA, nothing under her fingernails because her hands were tied behind her back, she was unconscious most of the time, and I used a condom. He remembered peeling off the condom and sealing it carefully in a ziplock bag. Afterward he’d dipped the condom in a bottle of chlorine bleach and then flushed it down his toilet. I left no fingerprints because I wore gloves—except when I had to take them off to use that tiny little syringe or take off that skin-tight slippery condom. But I left with both those items….

  Red and blue flashing lights and screaming sirens came up behind him at that moment. Three police cruisers surrounded him.

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAD: SEPTEMBER 29, 2011

  “HEY, FRESH MEAT.” The man named Paco began his taunts as they entered the recreation room. The biggest prisoners went off to the area with free-weights and a few other guys lingered around a ping-pong table. Chad spotted a television set and some chairs. “What did you do to get in here? You look like one of those rich white boys who cut up his parents one night when they are sleeping.” The man laughed loudly.

  Chad kept his head down and walked toward a chair in front of the television set in the corner.

  “Hey, Fresh Meat. Maybe you got drunk at the prom and raped the prom queen. Is that what you did?” He pointed at Chad. “Answer me! I am talking to you, bitch!”

  Chad sat in a chair and pretended to be immersed in the morning news. His stomach churned and his cheeks grew hot as he felt the other inmates staring at him, waiting for his response. Suddenly he heard his name called and he saw a burly guard motioning for him to follow. He rose quickly from his chair and followed the guard out of the room while his tormentor continued.

  “You’re getting lucky this time, Fresh Meat, but I’ll see you real soon.”

  Chad was led to a small room furnished only with a table and two chairs, and a clock on the wall. A moment later Stuart entered the room in a rumpled blue suit and his briefcase in hand. He was out of breath as he exclaimed, “I have really good news Chad. Your DNA doesn’t match the semen found on the victim’s clothing. I’m going to file a Motion to Dismiss in a few days, once I get everything together and a final lab report. But I’ll also pursue a quicker option by asking the AG to enter a nolle prosequi, which is a fancy term for dismissal of the charges against you. They have to do this if the evidence shows they no longer have p
robable cause to believe you are guilty.”

  Chad looked at his young attorney. He wanted to share in Stuart’s optimism, but he still feared the sadistic inmate, the burly guards and the cinderblock walls. When Chad looked at Stuart, he saw a man-child with a skinny neck and pimples on his chin. Even his ill-fitting suit made him resemble a child playing dress-up in his father’s clothing. “What does that mean? I mean, what does that mean as far as me getting out of here? Is it definite, probable or just a possibility?”

  “Well, we still have things a little muddied up by the witness seeing you moving the victim around, and maybe your purchase of that one-way ticket out of here on the day of the attack, so we have to work though those parts. But still, the DNA result is really good news.”

  He continued before waiting for an answer. “And if I am getting out, when?” Chad swallowed hard and with difficulty, thinking of the man in his cellblock who kept harassing him.

  Before Stuart could answer Chad’s question, the door to the small room opened slowly and the guard who looked like a linebacker poked his head back inside the room. “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt,” he spoke to Stuart as if Chad wasn’t even there. “Counselor, I need to talk to you for a moment.”

  Stuart stepped outside, leaving the door open. Chad heard them speaking to each other but he could not decipher their words. He realized a third person was speaking now, so he looked up and saw a Wilmington police officer’s uniform. Chad tried to interpret the expression on Stuart’s face. Disbelief? Shock? Sadness? Suddenly, the police officer stopped talking and all three men looked at Chad. Chad saw his young lawyer briefly put his hand on the police officer’s arm and Chad heard him say something about “bearing bad news.”

  Chad stood abruptly and remained standing next to the table, frozen with terror. What now? He was convinced that some other incriminating evidence was revealed and now he was going to rot in this prison, with its impenetrable cinderblock walls and stagnant air filled with fear, frustration and loneliness.