“What happened?” I asked.
Epstein’s lips moved, but he still didn’t say anything.
“I was upstairs changing the bed linen,” Mrs. Weisman said. “I heard the cars pull up, and shouting. I looked out the window and saw Saulie and Elaine running for the house, those two after them. I knew I had my rifle somewhere. I found it fast enough, but not the bullets. I had no idea anyone could do so much damage so quickly…”
Her voice trailed off. I patted her shoulder. “He’ll be all right,” I said, although I wasn’t entirely sure of that. “I’m going to check on Elaine.”
Mrs. Weisman nodded absently. She was smoothing the hair off Epstein’s forehead, which seemed like the only part of his face that wasn’t injured.
I got up and went into the kitchen. It was a mess. Coffee mixed with the broken glass. The tablecloth hung sideways off the table, and it looked like most of the items on the counters had been swept aside.
Elaine had put up quite a fight.
She had stopped rocking and was huddled in a fetal position where she had fallen. I stepped across broken glass to reach her.
“Elaine,” I said, knowing better than to touch her. “It’s Bill Grimshaw. We met yesterday at the Circle Campus.”
A shudder ran through her. There were white dish shards in her afro, and trailing down her back.
“You’re lying on glass,” I said gently. “I’m going to help you up before you get cut.”
“No!” The word was quick, breathy, and forceful. Outside, sirens echoed, still a few blocks away.
“You need to stand, Elaine.” I kept my voice even and calm. “We have to get the glass off you.”
“No,” she said again, but she moved, glass crunching beneath her weight. She moaned with sudden pain.
“It would be easier if I helped you,” I said.
This time, she didn’t respond, and I wasn’t sure if she had heard me. Then her hand, scratched and bloody, reached for the counter. She gripped it and sat up slowly, the glass crackling. I winced, uncertain how much more she was grinding into her flesh, but knew that right now, she found the glass preferable to a man’s touch.
Still, I kept a hand behind her in case she fell.
The sirens got closer, their wails filling the room. It took Elaine an excruciatingly long time to stand, and she tottered as she did. She kept one hand on the counter, used the other to hold the remains of her shirt in place, and then turned toward me, her feet sliding on the broken glass.
Her left eye was swelling shut and her lower lip was covered with dried blood. Her face was turning black and blue, but she wasn’t as badly beaten as Epstein was. Her skin was littered with cuts. Shards of glass clung to her cheeks and hair. She didn’t seem to notice.
I didn’t let my shock at her appearance show. I’d dealt with rape before and I knew better. Right now, the best thing I could do was to get her to a hospital and see if she needed treatment.
The sirens invaded the room and then stopped. My ears rang.
I extended my hand. “Crossing that glass will be tricky.”
She stared at my fingers, then at my face, as if she were trying to remember me. Then she looked at my fingers again. I heard a door open in the living room, followed by voices, the banging of equipment, and Mrs. Weisman directing people to her grandson.
The ambulance must have arrived first.
Elaine didn’t seem to hear any of it. Slowly she reached her hand to mine, and her fingers, colder than any living fingers I’d ever touched, grabbed on hard. I didn’t move for a moment, knowing the slightest sudden movement could send her back into that near-catatonic state. I waited until she let go of the counter, until she started across the pile of glass, before increasing my grip so that she wouldn’t fall.
More voices, the squawk of radios, and Mrs. Weisman’s high-pitched tones rising above the rest. Another door and some banging almost made me wince, but Elaine didn’t seem to notice. She still focused on me.
We made it to the bare tile before she stopped walking. She was dripping glass pieces, leaving a little trail of them behind her as she moved, and I wondered how I could convince her to wipe them off. Part of her skirt was caught in the waistband, showing her left thigh and buttock. Her underwear was ripped as well, and hanging from her like her shirt was.
She clutched her shirt closed, but it covered nothing. I could see all the bruises and cuts from the glass. She opened her mouth just a little and I thought she was going to say something, when the kitchen door banged open.
Elaine cringed as if a gun had gone off, but she didn’t let go of my hand. Two uniformed police officers came in, both white, burly, and red-faced.
“What the hell’s going on in here?” the first one asked, glaring at me, and I knew what he was thinking. I remembered that moment in the living room when I’d had my chance to escape. I should have taken it.
“We need an ambulance,” I said as calmly as I could. Elaine was cringing again, as if she were trying to shrink into nothing. Her hand slipped out of mine, and I felt as if I’d lost a major fight. She pulled at her clothes with both hands, as if she were just beginning to realize that she wasn’t covered.
“We’re looking for a Bill Grimshaw,” the second cop said. “Where is he?”
A rage flared inside me, warming my cheeks. I took a breath before speaking, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt. “This woman needs medical attention. Now.”
Something in my voice made them look at her. “Jesus,” one of the cops said.
The other pivoted and left the room, saying as he did so, “We got another vic in here.”
“Get away from her,” the first cop said to me.
“I’m not your perpetrator,” I said. “He’s tied up in the living room. The second guy got out the back door, but I’m not sure if he went far. He’d been hit in the head and scalded with hot coffee. If his car’s still here, he’s somewhere around.”
“Nice try, boy, but it don’t wash.” He pulled out his gun. “Get away from her. Now.”
Two guns in one hour. I didn’t like my odds. I turned my hands so that the cop could see them and started to move away.
“No,” Elaine said.
“I told you to step away!” The cop was getting nervous. He still thought I was doing something to her even though I was too far away to reach her now.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Weisman came into the room, her voice as powerful as a drill sergeant’s. “Put that gun down, young man. I told you to find Bill Grimshaw, not shoot him.”
His gun shook. For a moment, I thought the cop was going to pull the trigger out of sheer surprise.
“No!” Elaine lunged for me. The tattered remains of her blouse fell off. She wrapped her arms around me, and I could feel her trembling. I knew what this cost her. “Don’t hurt him.”
The cop looked confused. “Where’s Grimshaw?”
“Are you blind, young man?” Mrs. Weisman snapped. “You’re pointing a gun at him.”
The other cop had come into the room, followed by one of the ambulance attendants. They stopped when they saw the gun.
“What the hell are you doing, Speer?” the second cop asked. “Put the gun down.”
Speer stared at me. “You’re Grimshaw?”
“My I.D.’s in my back pocket.” I tried not to sound sarcastic. “You want to see it?”
“But the old lady said Grimshaw saved everyone.” Speer lowered the gun slightly.
“The old lady,” Mrs. Weisman said, “is standing behind you.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Elaine said again, still clinging to me. I could feel the heat of her bare skin through my suit.
“Put the gun down, Speer,” the other cop said again. “Now.”
Speer holstered his weapon. He looked like he was the one who’d been attacked. “What the hell happened here?”
The ambulance attendant came forward, reaching for Elaine, who cringed as she let go of me.
“Oh, de
ar,” Mrs. Weisman said.
I slipped off my suit coat and wrapped it around Elaine’s shoulders. I’d wrapped a coat around a woman’s shoulders just the night before, and she had smiled at me. I wondered if Elaine would smile again.
Elaine clutched the coat. The ambulance attendant took a step back, obviously understanding the situation as well.
“We need to get you to the ambulance, honey.”
She shook her head once, an eloquent no.
“We’ll get a cot and you can ride in with your friend.” Then the ambulance attendant looked at me. “He is her friend, isn’t he?”
“Her boyfriend,” I said, keeping my tone even.
“You’re going to want to know how he is, aren’t you?” The ambulance attendant asked Elaine.
The mention of Epstein seemed to reach her. “Saul?” she asked me.
“He got beat up pretty badly,” I said. “I don’t know how he is, but this gentleman’ll take you to him.”
“You too,” she said, and I realized then that I had become the only safe thing in the world for her. I would have to stay until she was through part of this process.
“All right.” I eased my arm around her shoulder, moving so slowly that she could have stopped me at any point. She didn’t. She leaned into me, letting me help her toward the kitchen door.
“You’re not going,” Speer said. “We have to talk to you.”
“I’ll give my statement at the hospital,” I said as I passed him. The other cop was standing close. I let him see my fury. “There was a second man. He’s the one who attacked Miss Young. He got out the back door about fifteen minutes ago, but I managed to do some damage before he did. I don’t think he got far. You should look for him. You certainly don’t want him doing this again.”
The other cop flushed and nodded. “You heard him, Speer. Check the backyard.”
Mrs. Weisman reached toward Elaine, then brought her hand back. “I had no idea,” she said, more to herself than to anyone else.
The ambulance attendant hurried ahead of her and disappeared out the front door. He was going for the other cot. They must have already loaded Saul into the ambulance.
Elaine walked slowly but with determination through the kitchen door. She stared straight ahead, as if she were moving by sheer will alone.
I glanced into the living room. There was blood on the floor where Epstein had been and another pool near the perpetrator. He was gone, and for a brief, terrified moment, I thought he had escaped.
Then we stepped into the cold afternoon air, and I saw the other attacker, sitting up in the back of the police car. He looked bleary-eyed, but all right.
Now there were neighbors on the street, dozens of them, crowded around, watching. They stared at Elaine and I as if we were the ones at fault. Only two cars were parked haphazardly—the Bug, with its door still open, and the Cadillac. The Thunderbird was missing.
Apparently the second guy had gotten away after all.
The attendant pulled the cot down. “Lie here, Miss.”
Elaine looked at it, the thick mattress pad, the restraints to hold her in place, and shook her head.
“Miss, to ride with us—”
“I don’t think she can lie down,” I said. “All that glass.”
“Oh.” The attendant flushed. “Right. Let’s see if we can get you comfortable inside.”
Epstein was already inside, his cot pushed against the far wall. It always amazed me how empty the back of ambulances were. A first aid kit hung from the wall, extra restraints and towels were in a small container near the back, and there was nothing else except room for cots and some seats built over the wheel wells.
I helped Elaine into the back of the ambulance. The attendant took one look at her, started to reach for her, and I shook my head.
He nodded once and said, “There’s not a lot of room back here. Can your friend follow us in his own car?”
She looked at me, her eyes wild. “Don’t leave—”
“I’ll ride with you,” I said, wishing this weren’t happening.
The attendant placed some towels on the wheel well. I climbed in as Elaine sat down, then I helped the attendant put the other cot inside.
I took a seat on the floor. The attendant closed the doors, then rapped on the roof.
The ambulance pulled forward. We all swayed. The attendant grabbed Epstein’s cot so that it wouldn’t slam into the walls of the van.
Elaine was watching Epstein. “We weren’t doing anything. Isn’t that crazy? We weren’t doing anything.”
She was speaking as if she were alone. Or talking to Epstein, who looked like he had passed out from the pain.
“What do you mean, miss?” the attendant asked.
“In the park.” She turned toward me. “We weren’t doing anything.”
“I know,” I said, even though I didn’t.
The siren came on. Oddly, it didn’t sound as loud from inside.
She turned back to Epstein. “He’s the nicest man. He didn’t deserve this. It’s my fault.”
I wanted her to stop, but I wasn’t sure how to silence her.
“What is, Miss?” the attendant asked.
“This whole thing. If he hadn’t met me…”
“You don’t have to talk now,” I said.
She didn’t seem to hear me. A tear ran down one cheek, hit a small piece of glass sticking out of a cut, and divided in two. “We didn’t even know them, that’s the thing. They saw us together and they went nuts, and Saul, he had no idea—I mean, he knows intellectually, but he doesn’t know—you know?”
She turned to me for that last and I nodded. I was beginning to get a picture of what happened.
“Did they follow you from the park?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“I thought we’d made it when we reached the car.” She leaned forward. She let go of my coat and it gaped, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was looking at Epstein. “I had no idea he’d drive home. I thought he’d—I don’t know. I’m used to—most men, they—like you…”
She looked at me again as her voice trailed off. She was right. If I’d been being harassed by two white men in a park, I wouldn’t have led them to my house.
Then I leaned back slightly. Two white men in a park. What had they been doing?
“What park was this?” I asked her.
But she didn’t answer. She was staring at Epstein. The attendant frowned at me. The ambulance hit a bump and we all slid to the right.
The ambulance seemed to be going extremely fast. I leaned forward so I could catch a glimpse of Epstein. His cot slid, despite the efforts of the attendant to hold it. I held it, too, and felt the cool metal cut into my palm.
We rounded another corner. The vehicle slowed, turned again, and eased to a stop. The siren sounded louder now. The doors in the back were flung open and medical personnel, wearing scrubs and lab coats, reached inside.
They removed Epstein first. Someone told Elaine to lie down and she shook her head. A man reached for her and she cringed.
“Let’s go in, Elaine,” I said, putting a hand on her arm, slowly, so that she could object if she wanted to.
She looked at me for a moment, then nodded. A member of the medical team reached for her as she stepped down and she flinched away, losing her balance. I caught her from behind, and kept her moving.
“She’s covered in glass,” I said to a young white man wearing a lab coat. “And she’s got injuries I haven’t seen. She’ll need attention.”
“Then let us—”
“No,” I said, brushing him off. “She’s in shock. You’re going to need my help.”
And they did. When they asked Elaine to do something, she refused. When I asked, she at least considered it. She wouldn’t lie down on any cots and she didn’t want to be left alone.
An emergency-room doctor did a cursory examination of her while I sat in a nearby chair, talking to her, trying to keep her calm. When he was done, he pulled me aside
as if I were the one responsible for her.
“Your daughter—” he said, and I started at the assumption, but I didn’t correct it. As long as they thought I was family, I could help. “—is going to need surgery. Glass is ground into those cuts. I’m not sure I can save her looks. She’ll need stitches all over, especially her back. It’s ruined. You said she was attacked. Was she raped?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “When I came in, he had her by the throat and he was between her legs. I couldn’t tell if he was beginning or ending.”
The doctor nodded. “We’ll put her under, see what we can find. The cops want to talk to her first though. It’s my inclination to make them wait. This is a very traumatized woman. But I know they haven’t caught the guy. If you think it’s best—”
“Take her to surgery,” I said. “The cops can wait.”
NINE
I WAITED, TOO. I had to hold Elaine’s hand while the anesthesiologist worked, but once she was under, I was free to go.
Instead, I found Mrs. Weisman sitting in the waiting room. The place was large, done in orange and gold, obviously someone’s idea of happy colors. Newspapers had been abandoned on the plastic seats, and a child’s doll lay on a table, forgotten.
Mrs. Weisman was the only person in the room. She sat with her head bowed, her hands clasped together. It seemed like she had aged fifteen years. When she heard my footsteps, she looked up. Anxiety and fear filled her face and then faded into a small smile when she realized it was me and not a doctor.
“I don’t know what we would have done without you, Mr. Grimshaw,” she said, her voice shaking.
I sat down across from her. “Looked like you were about to take control.”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t used that rifle since my honeymoon, and even then I was afraid of it. Creatures like that, they sense fear. They’d’ve knocked it out of my hands and hurt me as bad as they hurt my Saul.”
“No, they wouldn’t have,” I said. “Creatures like that are afraid of everything. They don’t like surprises and you would have been a big one. You’d have scared them off.”
“You’re a kind man.” A bit of the old twinkle returned to her eyes. “And a good liar.”
Thin Walls: A Smokey Dalton Novel Page 12
