by KJ Kalis
Marlowe attempted once again to sit upright but ended up only inching herself up in the bed just slightly, the tangle of IV lines and the blood pressure cuff attached to her arm not giving her much room to move. “I am. Thanks for calling the ambulance. The doctor said if I hadn’t gotten here as quickly as I did, I probably would’ve bled out.”
Emily struggled with what to do next. Should she sit down? Sit on the edge of Marlowe’s bed? She opted for standing nearby. “That’s good to hear. Care to tell me what happened?”
Marlowe rolled her head toward the window, away from Emily. From the side of her face, Emily could see her eyes were closed.
“I was raped.”
The words slammed into Emily like a Mack truck. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Was this tied to the case? “Do you know who your attacker was?”
“Vince.”
“Vince?” Emily found herself repeating the name in disbelief. Some guy in a back alley, maybe. But Vince? That was hard to believe.
Marlowe nodded, her eyes welling up with tears, “It happened a couple of months ago. I called him, pleading with him to see if we couldn’t work something out. He told me he’d meet me at the building. Third floor.” Marlowe glanced away again and then back at Emily. “He always liked the view from that floor, he said. When we were working on the project, I’d frequently find him there, staring out the window. It was the best spot to get a view of the surrounding buildings and the lake at the same time, he said.” A tear ran down the side of her face. She used a hand, still tied up with IV lines and covered in Band-Aids where she’d been poked and prodded to wipe it away. “Anyway, I went there, thinking that maybe we could work something out. That maybe he’d admit to what he did and make things right again so we could finish the project as we planned. Not that I trusted him anymore…” The words hung in the air, “But at least if we could’ve finished what we started, I’d have some hope of still working in the industry.” Marlowe struggled to adjust herself in the bed.
“Finish the story. You met him there and then what happened?” Emily bit her lip. She wanted the rest of the information.
“Yeah, sorry. Anyway, when I got there, I took the steps up to the third floor. The elevators don’t work. It was a warm night. Rain just passed over, so it was kinda humid. When I got there, Vince was already there. He might’ve been drunk, but I’m not sure. He started yelling at me about how I messed everything up for him. I tried to leave, but he slapped me across the face so hard it knocked me down. Before I could get up, he was on top of me. I think you can figure the rest of it out.”
Heat burned inside Emily’s body. Where Emily had been missing motivation to finish the case before, there was no doubt in her mind now that Vince needed to be handled, and handled quickly. “So, fast forward to today. What happened?”
Marlowe blinked a couple of times as if trying to remember. “I don’t know. I hadn’t been feeling well for the last couple of weeks. Thought it was just stress. Thought that was why I missed my period. You know, stress can do that.”
Emily nodded.
“After I passed out -- you know the part about the ambulance. They brought me here, did an exam, and found out I was hemorrhaging. I was pregnant but was having a miscarriage.” Marlowe shuddered, a quiet sob coming out of her. “I had no idea I was pregnant, pregnant with Vince’s child.”
Emily reached over to the nightstand next to Marlowe’s bed and handed her two tissues. Marlowe wiped her face.
Emily waited for a second, hoping that Marlowe could collect herself enough to tell her what it happened. “Can you tell me the rest of it?”
Marlowe nodded, “They rushed me into surgery to stop the bleeding. Had to give me four units of blood and a bunch of other stuff. They ended up doing a hysterectomy.” There was silence in the room for a minute. “I’ll never have kids.”
There wasn’t time to deal with the fact that Marlowe wouldn’t be able to have kids. Emily couldn’t fix that. She had to focus. “Did you tell them you’d been raped?” Emily knew Marlowe must have. Mike had found that in the medical information that Mike had hacked, but she didn’t want to let on that she knew.
“I did. But I don’t want to get Vince in trouble. I think maybe he was drunk or something.”
Emily’s police training kicked in. It was common for victims to not want to blame their perpetrator, especially in highly intimate cases, like domestic violence, rape and incest. It was just so unthinkable, the idea that a person could be violated that way that oftentimes the victim tried to justify the crime or simply didn’t report it. “Then what happened?”
“I guess they sent the fetus to pathology. They’ll do a DNA check and log it. That’s what the doctor said. He asked me if I knew who my attacker was, but I told him no. Then the police came.” Marlowe wiped her nose with one of the tissues. “It was a nice lady in a suit. She asked me a few questions, asked me why I hadn’t reported it when it happened. It made me feel bad, but I just couldn’t. I wanted to try to get the building back. She said some other detectives might come see me later on today.”
Emily shook her head. There was something seriously wrong when maintaining control over a construction project was more important than someone’s individual safety. Marlowe had put her career ahead of her health. “What did the officer tell you?”
“Not much. She said they would log the DNA in CODIS and if a hit came up, she would let me know. She told me if I remembered anything else to give her a call. The lady left me with some information on support groups and counseling. That was it.”
Emily walked over to the window, thinking. The CODIS database was a law enforcement database that kept DNA files of suspects and criminals. At least that was helpful in a way. Though Emily wanted to be angry at the officer for not being more aggressive, she knew there was little the officer could do, given the attack happened two months before. By the time Marlowe showed up at the hospital, there was no direct evidence left — no semen, no other fluids or hairs or fibers that could be collected.
A couple of times early in Emily’s career, she had tagged along with another officer who went to the hospital to deal with a rape case. It was a hideous process. Invasive. There were nurses and doctors specifically trained in collecting the evidence needed after a rape. The whole process could take several hours, subjecting the person who had been attacked to more scrutiny, pictures of every inch of their body, swabs everywhere, and more questions than any one person should have to answer. After watching a couple of of those exams, Emily wondered what was more traumatic — the rape itself or the evidence collection. To this day, she didn’t know.
In some respects, the fact that Marlowe hadn’t reported the rape worked in Emily’s favor. “Who else knows it was Vince?”
“No one. You’re the first person I’ve told. What happens now?” Marlowe’s eyes had gone wide as if the gravity of the situation had just landed on her.
“I’ll take care of it…”
As Emily left the hospital, she could feel the rage inside of her building. Vince was a scumbag, there was no doubt about it. He’d managed to swindle Marlowe out of twenty million, gambled more than a quarter of it away, and then decided to rape her. He wasn’t someone who should be allowed to continue to suck up oxygen.
Slamming the truck door, Emily put it into gear and headed back to the house. It was time to make a plan.
29
The drive home from the hospital and meeting with Lou took longer than it should have. The traffic was abysmal, but at least it gave Emily time to think. Knowing that Marlowe had been raped changed everything. It was the one piece of the puzzle Emily hadn’t been able to put her finger on since the start of the case. It made sense why Marlowe had seemed so cagey from the beginning. Victims often seemed like that, not sure of who they could trust or where they could get actual help. Unfortunately, law enforcement frequently threw up their hands and walked away from a case that seemed too hard or too complicated. At least in that respect
, Emily could help.
In her mind’s eye, Emily ran through what that night must’ve been like for Marlowe. She was probably filled with excitement knowing Vince would finally meet her, wondering if he was coming to make her an offer that would rescue the project. She could imagine Marlowe showing up at the Lakeview office complex, excited, thinking it was possible her career and her financial reputation could be restored.
The reality of how that evening turned out for Marlowe hit Emily again. The sting of the slap across her cheek, the dead ringing in her ear, the surprise at being knocked down by the force of a man. If Vince had even half-decent strength and reactions, he would’ve been on top of Marlowe before she could do anything about it. Emily had seen Vince. It was clear he went to the gym a lot. He might not be trained in self-defense — Emily didn’t think he was — but it was clear that he'd be able to pin Marlowe down without any trouble at all.
Emily’s imagination fast-forwarded to the end of the attack, Vince pulling himself up off of Marlowe, probably calling her a bunch of names or maybe saying nothing at all as he zipped up his designer pants. She imagined he just walked away, leaving Marlowe there in a crumpled pile. Marlowe should have fought back, Emily thought, but most women didn’t know how. Emily gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white with anger. It was time to act. The question was what was the best way to handle Vince?
By the time Emily made it back to the house, it was midafternoon. The traffic was hadn’t broken up at all on the way home. The hospital where they had taken Marlowe after she collapsed was across town. Navigating the end of fall construction and a slew of drivers just added to the tension in Emily’s body. She felt like a coiled spring.
Walking in the back door of the house, she was greeted by Miner, who promptly rolled over on his back asking for a belly rub. She shook her head as she bent over, feeling his warm fur. It felt like the last couple of days had been a study in contrasts. Angelica and Mike causing drama on the personal side of her life. Marlowe, Vince and Lou creating tension on the professional. Now Emily was in the middle of the stark contrast between talking to Marlowe about her rape and the simple fact that her dog wanted his belly rubbed. After this case, I definitely need a break, she thought.
“What happened?” Mike said, padding his way into the kitchen from the family room.
“Well,” Emily said, pulling off her jacket. “I met with Lou. He’s going to check around about the book for us. Then I stopped at the hospital.”
“Oh yeah? Did you get to see Marlowe?”
“I did.”
“Any news on why the doctors called for a rape kit?”
Emily nodded, “I’m not sure they actually ended up using it. She was pregnant and had a miscarriage. They did a hysterectomy.”
“Was she raped?”
“Yep. Vince.”
Mike whistled under his breath, whipping his head around to look at Emily. “What? When did this happen?”
Emily sat down at the kitchen table, scratching Miner’s back. “From the way she told it, a couple of months ago. She didn’t know she was pregnant. Thought it was just stress that was making her feel sick. Apparently, it wasn’t. She said Vince agreed to meet her at the building two months ago, but he was drunk. He slapped her hard enough that it knocked her down and then he raped her.”
Hearing the story out of Marlowe’s mouth was bad enough but recounting it for Mike brought a heaviness into the room Emily wasn’t prepared for. Of all the cases Emily worked, she thought the ones that included sex crimes were the worst. It was so personal, so violating.
“So, what do we do now?”
“That’s what we have to figure out…”
Emily needed to think. Marlowe’s case, which had started as seemingly nothing, had turned into a big problem. She quickly pulled out her phone and sent a text to Angelica, letting her know Marlowe was in the hospital, had had a miscarriage, and had been raped. What Angelica would do that information, Emily wasn’t sure, but she felt the need to keep her sister in the loop. That was how she ended up in the spot she was in to start with, so it made sense.
The part about the case that was so difficult to reconcile was the financial issue. Sure, Emily could remove Vince from the equation, but was that truly vengeance for Marlowe? That was the question. In any other case, simply removing Vince would give the victim or their family some sort of peace, knowing they could move on with their lives. If the perpetrator was gone, they’d at least have some closure. Not in this case. In this case, the challenge was not only to remove Vince from the equation but to restore what had been stolen from Marlowe back to her somehow.
This just got complicated, she whispered to herself, pulling the red book out of her back pocket and sitting down at the table. She flipped open the pages, still trying to make sense of the notations in the book. There was still a lingering question about the notebook itself that rattled in her mind. Why did Vince leave it behind in the first place? Had he forgotten about it? Or maybe he didn’t care? If the people Anthony thought were involved in Vince’s gambling habit were as dangerous as he had said, then there was no way they’d forget about a six million dollar debt. Who would?
Six million was a lot to lose. It was just a question of time before someone came calling to collect. Could Emily get to Vince, get what she needed, and get away before they did? Time was ticking, Emily knew that now.
30
Lou Gonzales left the coffee shop with a pit in his stomach. He had almost not returned Emily’s phone call, but he felt like he owed her something. Driving back to the station, seeing her for the first time in so long, he knew how much he’d hurt her. Before her arrest, they’d been close, really close. He still remembered the way she looked the day she got married to Luca, her cheeks flushed, her hair pulled up and the thin white dress she wore as she walked down the aisle. Lou had almost blushed, realizing how beautiful she was. He’d never seen her that way before, as she was always dressed in either a police uniform or work gear.
What Emily didn’t know was that after her arrest, he’d been under scrutiny, too. The department wanted to plug holes, and anybody who had been close to Emily was seen as one. After two weeks of interviews, they finally left him alone, realizing he’d had nothing to do with what Emily had done. Actually, what she hadn’t done, he thought to himself, rounding the corner to the station.
Months later, when Emily had been vindicated, Lou had thought about reaching out to her. She would understand why he pulled away. He was trying to preserve his job. One night, his wife had said to him, “Have you heard from Emily?”
“No.”
“Honey, you should reach out to her. I’m sure she’s hurting.”
That was the beginning, middle and end of the conversation.
And now, seeing her nearly ten years later, Lou had regrets. The disappointment surged inside him. The way that Emily looked at him in the café upset him — her wild eyes, her demand to know if he was wearing a wire or not. He couldn’t blame her. If he’d been in the same situation, he probably would have done the same thing. He might not even have reached out for help. But, given the fact that ten years had passed and Emily contacted him, it meant she had nowhere else to turn.
He could understand why. Dealing with evidence could be challenging even if you were in the department. Lou couldn’t imagine what Emily had been trying to deal with on this so-called case she had gotten herself into. As Lou got out of the car, putting it in one of the spots behind the precinct reserved for detectives, he wondered how Emily had spent her time over the last ten years. What was she doing to keep busy? He had heard through the grapevine that Luca left her. Lou had seen that coming a mile away, but never said anything, only wanting Emily to be happy. And then, when he heard Luca overdosed, he thought about reaching out again, but so much time had passed that he wasn’t sure how Emily would respond.
Lou pushed the back door to the precinct offices open and headed up to the second floor. Inside, it was quiet. Mid-day tend
ed to do that in the office. People were either out getting a late lunch or were tracking down leads for a case. Lou threw himself down in his desk chair wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, his elbow sticking out from side to side. He’d promised to look into the notebook Emily had shown him. The question was, how to do it. Emily kept the book with her. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent her a text, requesting a picture of at least one of the pages.
Now it was time to wait.
Lou shuffled a couple of files on his desk, his thoughts elsewhere. Would Emily send him an image of one of the pages? He didn’t know. If she didn’t, he wouldn’t blame her. Although Lou knew he meant Emily no harm, she didn’t know that. Not yet.
Lou pulled the top file off of the pile on his desk and spun his chair to the side, crossing his ankle over his knee. He flipped open the cover, scanning the pages inside with his eyes. It was a cold case that had the hallmarks of so many of the other cases he and Emily worked together for years. His heart ached a little. This one was the story of a man who’d filed a missing person report on his wife. She was never found.
All the files read pretty much the same. A person was lost or missing or murdered. Sometimes they had the body, sometimes they didn’t. Over time the leads evaporated like steam in the air and the case went from active to cold. That’s when his division got them. Lou glanced over his left shoulder at his phone. Still nothing from Emily. He turned his eyes back to the case file on his lap and wondered if she’d read his text. Was she pacing in her house, wondering what to do? Maybe she was out running errands, ignoring him. He didn’t know. What he did know was it would be nearly impossible to help her if he didn’t have more information.
Lou spun back to his desk, uncrossing his knee after banging it on the corner. He winced and rubbed it, putting the file back on the top of his desk. The one piece of information he did have was the name of the guy that Emily was looking at — Vince Olivas. Lou typed Vince’s name into the search database to see what information the department had on him. The information came back a fraction of a second later. There wasn’t much. Two speeding tickets and a couple of parking tickets on downtown streets. Nothing big. Nothing to write home about, that was for sure. The tickets had been paid so there was nothing of interest in his file.
