Smart. Beautiful.
Kind.
Heather’s assault was akin to spraying weed killer on a newly opened flower.
Next in the file were the photos taken after her assault. Her face was bruised and bloodied. One eye had a repaired laceration near the eyebrow, but her lip was still split in more than one area. Her eyes were hollow, no connection with the camera, her confidence and peace stolen, leaving a vacant look behind.
The local crazy house, as Brett referred to it, was a high-tech, glass-and-metal low-rise of seven stories tucked at the end of a long, gated drive in a grove of pine and aspen trees. Brett let out a slow whistle as he parked Nathan’s car and they gathered their things.
“You’ve got to have some money to be put up in a place like this.” Nathan closed the car door.
“It’s so still out here. You can’t even hear the city noise. Who can sleep with all this quiet?”
“Not everyone needs the rain forest at night to help them slumber off.”
“That was a gift from my mother.” Brett jokingly chopped his hand toward Nathan’s face. “Just remember, you ever let it slip in the department that I sleep with that thing, your mother’s going to find you dead the next day.”
They were buzzed in and led to the office of Dr. Jonas. He was a short, spry black man whose bifocals hovered on the tip of his nose. Nathan struggled to keep his fingers from reaching out to push them back up. Brett stepped forward first to shake his hand.
“Thanks for meeting with us today, Dr. Jonas,” Brett said, letting Nathan approach.
“My pleasure. Anything I can do to help the police.”
The feminine pitch of his voice caught Nathan off guard. If he had first spoken to him over the phone, Nathan would have thought they were meeting a woman. The doctor stood to welcome Nathan, readjusting his orange-and-black striped bow tie before offering his hand. Standing did not improve the man’s height.
“Nathan Long.”
“Nice to meet you both. Have a seat.”
“Did Heather sign the release so you could discuss her case with us?” Nathan took the chair Jonas indicated and opened Heather’s case file.
“She did. You’re lucky … not many patients would agree to do this. But this has become her new obsession.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, Heather has always had obsessive components to her personality. When I first started treating her in her late teens, it was for an eating disorder. She wasn’t anorexic or bulimic, but she restricted her fat intake to a degree that she’d stopped menstruating and was showing signs of malnutrition. After two years she switched her compulsion to bodybuilding. I was relieved in the beginning because her eating habits improved dramatically. She was putting on weight and looked healthy. Unfortunately, she was going to the gym three times a day, for two hours at a time. It was becoming difficult for her to hold down a job. For income, she started competing in bodybuilding shows. This was a vicious cycle. The more competitions she won, the more she was in the gym. She started looking into plastic surgery. Then the attack came. Everything stopped.”
“As in?”
“She fractured. Her whole personality dissolved.”
“You mean a psychotic break,” Nathan offered.
“No, different from that. She was never delusional. She didn’t experience any hallucinations. Her contact with reality was quite secure. It was that everything she valued before lost its significance. She began to drink, stopped going to the gym. Began writing in these journals trying to recall every single detail of the attack. She wanted me to give them to you along with your questionnaire.”
Dr. Jonas reached behind his desk and grabbed a cardboard banker’s box. Nathan noticed Heather’s name, date of birth, and some other code listed on each side. Brett stood and lifted the top.
“All these are hers?” Brett grabbed the first group of papers and the most recently dated notebook.
Nathan stood as well. There had to be over twenty books. Brett handed him the questionnaire. Nathan set it on top of the glass surface and began smoothing out the pages that looked as if they’d been wadded up, then retrieved from the trash.
“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Brett chimed in, leaning his way. “Look at this. It’s full of these types of drawings.”
Dr. Jonas peered over the top of his glasses. “I think that’s your elusive tattoo. She draws it constantly. In these, she’s told me she’s getting close to the one she actually saw.”
Nathan started counting the books in the box. “There are thirty notebooks in here, Doc. How long did she work on these?”
“She probably filled these in about three months. This is the second box, the most recent. Her pace has picked up quite a bit. Initially after the attack, she had moved back in with her mother. That’s when she first started writing, at my encouragement. Unfortunately, her relationship with her mother was never very constructive, and it became too hard for her to live at home. That’s when she came here. Now, this is all she does.”
Nathan placed the journals back into the box and took the one Brett had been skimming through. He leafed through several pages. “I think what I’d like to do is just meet her today. I want to take some time reviewing her survey and these diaries and then develop the questions I want to go over. Can we come back next week?”
“Yes, that would be fine. I think that’s a good plan, Detective. She’s been waiting for you in one of our conference rooms.”
Nathan stopped, the box in his hands. “Dr. Jonas, have you ever heard of a Dr. Thomas Reeves?”
“If you have anything to do with treating post-traumatic stress disorder, you’ve definitely heard of him.”
“What do you think of his work?” Brett took the box from Nathan so he could retrieve his notes.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet. It seems to be helping people, but its long-term benefits are unproven.”
It was a short walk to the plush sitting area. A plasma-screen TV hung on the wall. The room smelled faintly of lavender. Engulfed in one of the loveseats was Heather, her formerly muscled body now soft and lanky. She was writing furiously in another notebook, dabbing at her eyes every few words with a Kleenex. Both eyes looked reddened and chafed at the corners.
Nathan walked forward first. Brett stayed back on his own accord. Nathan stood before her briefly, and she cowered before him. If the furniture could have swallowed her any more, she would have disappeared. Nathan kneeled, reducing his height to take on a more submissive posture.
“Heather, my name is Detective Long.” Nathan reached his hand out. She took it limply and gave it a few unconvincing shakes.
“You’re not the same officer I spoke to before.”
“You’re right. There are a lot of people trying to catch the man who did this to you.”
Fresh tears popped, and the tissue she held seemed unable to keep up with the flow. Nathan reached to get her a new one.
“I don’t mean to upset you, Heather. I wanted to thank you so much for the time you spent on all those questions. Your notebooks are amazing. I’m going to take them and review this information and come back next week and talk. Would that be all right with you?”
She nodded, but did not speak. Nathan continued. “Thank you, Heather. You let Dr. Jonas know if we can do anything for you.”
He joined Brett, who held the box in his hands. Dr. Jonas excused himself, and they made their way back to their vehicle. Nathan opened the trunk and let Brett set the material inside.
“Off to Jacqueline’s?” Brett asked.
“Might as well get this over. It’s a short drive.”
Brett pulled out of the parking lot. The day was sunny, but the cool air spoke of autumn firmly set into the base of the Rocky Mountains. Residential lawns were decorated with faux headstones, and cotton webbing hung from trees with enormous, shiny black spiders clinging to barren branches.
“This is one victim that perplexes me.” Nathan pulled out several pho
tos. “I think his other victims are these strong, independent women. But Jacqueline is a single mother of four children and a kindergarten teacher.”
“You don’t think you need a strong personality to manage thirty-some-odd five-year-olds?”
“Not at all. I meant, she just seems softer. More diminutive.”
“Maybe it’s the fact that she is a single mother. Actually, all of the women lived alone. Maybe, it’s not their dominant personality, but the fact that they are vulnerable with no male presence in the home. If I remember correctly, none of them had dogs. Maybe, he actually considered them easy prey.”
“That’s a possibility, but two of them were obviously strong. Heather had won several bodybuilding competitions. Lilly is an expert at martial arts. He had to know that, and I think that’s what he despises. Strong, confident, independent women.”
“I think it’s crazy how people decorate for Halloween like it’s Christmas.” Brett rolled his window down. “Check the address for me. I think we’re close.”
“Hold on.” Nathan reached for Jacqueline’s case file. “House number is … 1208.” He glanced up. “It’ll be on the left side of the road. Here, right here.”
Brett pulled to the curb. The lawn was completely overgrown. Shrubs lined the front in snarled masses. As they got out and secured Nathan’s vehicle, they could hear the chaos of playful children inside. The screen door hung off one hinge. The smell of cigarettes was pungent at the doorstep. Brett knocked. The door opened to a tall, muted girl with dark hazel eyes and matted brown hair.
Nathan coughed a few times into his fist. “Hi there, I’m Detective Long. I’m here to see your mom. Is she home?”
The door opened wider. Brett covered his nose and clenched his lips at the stench as Nathan’s eyes watered.
The girl motioned them inside. “She’s in her bedroom.”
“We’ll wait here for her,” Brett offered, taking a few steps backward onto the sidewalk.
“Won’t do any good. She never leaves her room anymore.”
Nathan ignored the look of pleading in Brett’s eyes. He wished he could allow Brett to leave, but it would be inappropriate for him to be alone with this witness. They followed the girl down a short hall, peeking into one bedroom, seeing two boys clubbing one another with foam bats.
“Don’t mind them; they never stop.”
She neared the door, tapped softly. “Mom?” Opening it, she motioned them forward.
“Ms. Randall?” Nathan stepped inside. “It’s Detective Long. We spoke on the phone?”
The bedcovers rustled faintly, and a pair of deep brown eyes turned but didn’t focus. Her skin was translucent against the sheets. Nathan grabbed a small chair from the corner and sat down next to her.
“Jacqueline? You don’t look like you’re doing so well,” Nathan reached for the nearest box of tissues. Empty. He waved it in Brett’s direction, and the teenage daughter seemed to pick up on the cue first. He’d barely turned around before she was back.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Jacqueline choked between sobs.
“What?” Nathan asked.
“Work. Take care of these children …”
“Did you call victim assistance?” Nathan lifted a finger and circled it in the air. Brett reached for his phone and stepped into the hall, though still in view.
“I’m going to get someone here for you today. Are you seeing a counselor?”
“I stopped.”
“Why?”
“None of it is helping!”
“All right, let’s work through this. Do you have family in town? A friend?”
“I haven’t told anyone,” she whispered, shifting her gaze behind Nathan where her daughter must be standing.
“Jacqueline, I’m not even going to pretend to act like I know anything about this. But I do know you’re going to need some help. You’ve got to reach out to someone.”
Nathan reached for his own phone. “Do you have any family that lives close by?”
“My mother.”
“You have a good relationship with her?” She nodded. “Great. I want you to give me her number.”
Brett neared him. “Thirty minutes for victim’s advocacy.”
Nathan handed off his phone after he punched in the number. “Talk to her mother. Get her over here. If she can’t drive, we’ll come and get her.” Turning back, he pulled the caked blonde strands of hair away from Jacqueline’s eyes. “I need you to help me catch this guy. Did you do that packet of questions?”
“I can’t remember the attack,” she said, new tears flowing.
“I know. That’s okay. The questions aren’t about that. They’re about you and your life. It will help us focus on where he might have found you .”
Brett reappeared. “Grandma’s comin’ in five minutes.”
“Listen, your mother is going to be here soon. I want you to tell her what happened. One of our rape counselors is on the way, as well. She’ll help you. Did you do any of the survey?”
Jacqueline reached behind her, pulling apart layers of dirty bed linens. The papers were torn in half but he could see some penned responses, though not many. Nathan took it. “Thanks. This is great. It’s really going to help.”
A hefty knock at the door stopped the rambunctious boys in the next room.
“That was record time.” Brett left briefly. In a few moments he was back, ushering in a petite yet well-muscled woman who sat at the edge of the bed and gathered her daughter up into her arms.
“Natalie, draw your mother a bath. Hot as you can stand.”
“Ma’am …” Nathan offered.
“I know what this is. You leave us and come back in a few days. She’ll be ready for you then.”
Brett pulled on Nathan’s elbow. Walking outside, Nathan took several cleansing breaths.
“Why the hurry to leave?” Nathan asked.
“I know mothers like that. I have one. You don’t get in their way. I guarantee when we come back, this lawn will be mowed, the screen door fixed, and they’ll have just as many Halloween decorations up as the neighbors.”
Getting into the car, they situated themselves and buckled seat belts. “I’ll tell you another thing: those hoodlum twin boys will have their hair cut and be greeting us at the door with polite little smiles. Grandma is back!”
Nathan smiled as he pulled away from the chaos, choosing to drive his own vehicle again.
“One thing I find funny.” Brett tapped his fingers rapid fire on the dashboard.
“Hey, you’re smudging!” Nathan slapped his hand away and grabbed a wet wipe from the middle console, wiping the finger marks clean.
“Smudging?”
“I don’t know what you could possibly find funny. It’s terrible what the rape has done to her. To both of these women.”
“I’m not talking about the victims. I’m talking about you.”
“Ooh, I can hardly wait for one of your stunning observations.”
“They both start bawling their eyes out and you hand them Kleenex. Just regular tissue.”
“Yeah, so, I thought it was the chivalrous thing to do. I know thoughtful male responses are foreign to you.”
“Why not give them one of your grandma’s embroidered hankies? I’m just curious as to why Lilly Reeves got one and not the others.”
Chapter 15
October 28
DANA SUCKED THE cool air sharply into her lungs when she saw Lilly emerge from her car as she waited for her by the door to the indoor firing range. Her hair was oily and matted. Holes in her baggy clothing showed the pale, malnourished skin beneath. As she neared, Dana held the door open for her and followed her inside. Lilly failed to offer a greeting.
“Honestly, I can’t even believe you convinced me to do this. Especially on my first Saturday night off in eons,” Dana said. The gun club was like an undiscovered culture. Lilly stood next to her, two plastic gun cases open, loading two magazines.
“Kadin said he wouldn’
t come.”
“Smart man,” Dana replied. Lilly did not look her way. “What is that smell?”
“A mixture of burnt powder and the solvent they use to clean the weapons.”
“Not quite antiseptic.” The cement floor, once painted red, was chipped and pockmarked. Dana slid her feet along the floor to prevent herself from slipping on the numerous shell casings that littered the ground. Two large, wooden barrels sat in the corner with a broom and dustpan. Every ceiling tile either gaped open, showing intestinal plumbing, or was water-stained and sagging.
Lilly continued with the weapons, her movements strong and sure. She snapped one magazine into place and set the gun in front of Dana. The sound of the metal cap on Lilly’s flask as it opened scraped Dana’s spine like a bad violin note. Lilly took two swigs and set it aside before loading the other magazine into a second gun.
“When did you get these?” Dana handled the sidearm with cautious movements.
Lilly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Leveling the gun she fired off one shot before Dana could get her earplugs in.
“Hey, you could have warned me!” Dana leaned from her side of the divider and looked at the gaping hole, center mass, on the target at the end of Lilly’s lane. She raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
Lilly’s eyes looked cold and resolved. “I’ve had the one you’re using for several years. I just got this one.” Lilly held the gun up and rocked it in front of Dana. “Didn’t want the first edition to be lonely.” She reached for her thermos again.
“I see. How many of these do you think you need?”
“I’m not sure, maybe one for every room.”
Dana was amazed at how quickly Lilly aimed, this time firing off three successive shots. Her ears started to ring. Dana peered at the target. Still only one hole.
“You missed,” Dana said, her own voice distant in her ears.
“Do you know what the ultimate goal is when you practice shooting?” Lilly crossed her arms and leaned against the divider.
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