Ten Times Guilty (12 page)

After she left, Reese and Cooper returned to the ER to wait for permission to talk to Tracy.

“How much longer?” he asked a male nurse for the fourth or fifth time.

“As long as it takes.”

“Stick it where the sun don’t shine,” Reese muttered under his breath. He gazed into the hallway. Damn. He needed to talk to her while it was fresh. Every minute they waited was one more in which the perp could vanish.

That couldn’t happen again. Not again.

***

Sharon urged a reluctant Tracy to lie down. “What is it?” she asked. “Why do you want to leave?”

“I can’t talk to the police.”

Sharon frowned. “Perhaps there’s a way around that. I’ll talk to Dr. Cole, but please, you need treatment. Won’t you let us help you?”

Tracy knew she desperately needed someone to help her. If only she knew who to trust.

“You’re sure Ritchie is okay?”

“He’s just fine. Asleep in Mrs. Golden’s home.”

Tracy couldn’t hold it in any longer. All of the terror, the pain, the violation and shame rushed to the surface. She trembled violently. Her nose ran. Her eyes filled and overflowed, gushing down her cheeks.

“I...he raped me.” Her body shook from the force of the sobs. After a few moments, she quieted, but tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“That’s okay, you have good reason. You’ve done the hard part. You’ve acknowledged what happened to you, so now we can help. Let me check with Dr. Cole and I’ll be right back.”

Tracy gave in to exhaustion and closed her eyes. She lay quietly, welcoming the release of sleep.

***

She was walking home, but instead of walking city streets, she found herself in the middle of a dense forest.

Everywhere she looked, gnarled trees surrounded her, the heavy foliage blocking the moon. From somewhere close, a wolf howled. Her neck and back prickled. She walked faster, almost running. If something was out there, she didn’t want to know. But instead of reaching home, she found herself deeper into the woods.

Three willow trees stood just ahead, their flowing branches waving in the breeze, beckoning her closer. She stopped. Mustn’t go there, something evil there. She had to find home.

She heard a sound, the crackle of dry leaves and saw two slanted black eyes, shining with a luminescent glow, watching her from the underbrush. Something was there, and it wanted her.

Tracy jerked awake and sat up.

“Tracy?”

Tracy squinted at Sharon, standing next to her in the ER room. She was in the hospital. She eased back on the bed.

“I must have fallen asleep,” she said. “What happened to the x-rays?”

“They’ve already been taken. We’re just waiting for the doctor to read them before he begins the examination. If you feel like sleeping a while longer, you might as well get the rest.”

Stunned, Tracy whispered, “He’s going to examine me now?”

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Why? What’s the matter?”

“Please, get the nurse,” Tracy urged.

“What is it? Are you in pain?”

“Just get the nurse.” Tears started. “I have to wash. He can’t examine me there until I wash. I thought it’d be later, after I had a chance...“ Her voice trailed off.

“I understand how you must feel,” Sharon said, “but the doctor has to collect evidence—”

“Evidence!” Tracy stared at Sharon. “I can’t give evidence. You tricked me!” She tried to get out of bed, but the room tilted dangerously. She grabbed the railing. “Oh God, I’m going to throw up again.”

The nurse helped Tracy over the nausea then left to get the doctor.

Sharon walked to the bed. “Tracy—”

“Go away, you lied to me.”

“No, I didn’t. Listen to me, please. There’s a necessary routine that has to be followed with a sexual assault. It’s the law, and you need to be prepared. Whether or not you file charges is something you’ll have to discuss with the police.”

Tracy stared ahead, her jaws clenched tightly together.

“What if later,” Sharon continued, “after you’ve had a chance to recover, you decide you want him off the streets? There has to be enough trace evidence, semen, blood, body hair, for the District Attorney’s office to feel they can go into a courtroom and get a conviction.”

“I-am-not-going-to-court.” Tracy said each word softly but distinctly.

“What if this guy does the same thing to someone else? They usually do. How would you feel, knowing you may have been the only person who could have prevented that from happening?”

The blood drained from Tracy’s face. That hadn’t even occurred to her. She lay back and closed her eyes.

“I have to do this, don’t I?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I know it’s another invasion, but it has to be done. I’ll be right here with you.”

“At least help me clean up. I can’t let anyone see me like this.”

“Believe me, as a woman, I understand how you must feel.” Sharon sat on the bedside chair. “But you can’t wash. They need the secretions.”

“God.”

Dr. Cole pulled the curtain and entered the area. He carried a sheaf of blank forms.

“Good news from the x-rays,” he said. “No skull fractures or lacerations, so what we’re dealing with are contusions on the face and torso.” At the startled look on Tracy’s face, he explained, “That’s just a fancy word for bruising. And you have a hairline fracture of the fifth and sixth ventral rib.”

“Is it serious?”

“With the proper care, it should heal naturally. We used to wrap patients like mummies,” he smiled, “but no longer. Just be a little careful until it’s healed. But you do have a concussion and you’ll have some headaches. We’ll keep you a few days, then, if everything goes as expected, we’ll send you home.”

“I can’t take that kind of time; I can’t afford—”

“You can’t afford not to take proper care of yourself. Although you’re a young woman and should do well, your body has been through an extreme trauma and you need rest. I’m not going to release you until I’m satisfied you’re in the process of recovery.”

Was there no end to this awful day? Tracy knew if she stayed in the hospital, she would lose several days pay. Then she’d get behind on everything else, including rent and care for Ritchie. Maybe she could talk to Diana and work something out.

Then it hit her—she couldn’t go back to work at the museum, not with Karr there. God! What was she going to do?

“That takes care of one problem, but leaves us with another, not so favorable.” Dr. Cole paged through the papers in his lap, one, with the heading, ‘History of Sexual Assault’.

“Before we proceed with the examination, I have to record the assault.

“And Tracy, a police officer has to be present. Two detectives are right outside.”

Tracy felt as if she had been punched. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Chapter Sixteen

“Mrs. Michaels?” A slim, dark-haired woman and a large man in a rumpled suit pulled aside the curtain and entered the small cubicle.

“I’m Officer Sondra Cooper with Sexual Assaults,” the woman said, holding out her hand, “and this is Sergeant Reese Sanders. We’d like to talk to you.”

Tracy lay, arms at her sides, watching the officers grow larger and larger until their presence seemed to fill the tiny space. She felt like a rabbit cornered by baying hounds.

Officer Cooper pulled a pen and notepad from her shoulder bag. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened, in your own words.” 

A strange whooshing sound echoed in Tracy’s head. She watched, as if in slow motion, Officer Cooper click a ball point pen over the notepad. She heard the faint scratching sound the point made against the paper.

“Just a moment, detectives.” Dr. Cole poured a glass of water, gave it to Tracy and stood over her, watching anxiously.

Tracy took the glass of water and managed a sip. She set the glass down before it slipped from her trembling fingers and kept her eyes on the floor. Breathe, just keep breathing.

“You had us worried for moment.” Dr. Cole told her. “Glad to see you back. Let’s keep it brief, detectives. While I realize it’s necessary that you talk to her, my first concern is my patient. She’s stressed enough as it is.”

“I’m sorry we have to barge in on you,” Reese said, his voice gentle. “I hope you understand we’re here to find out what happened. It’s a terrible thing, and we’ll try to be as brief as we possibly can.”

Something in his voice caused Tracy to meet his eyes. He was such a big man and he had a gruff appearance, but his eyes held hers with an unexpected warmth. And compassion. She breathed easier.

Reese took off his jacket, draped it over the back of a plastic chair next to the bed and sat down so that he no longer towered over her.

“May we call you Tracy?”

She managed a nod.

“Officer Cooper and I know how difficult it must be to tell someone what happened—”

“But it’s very important that you tell us everything you remember,” Officer Cooper interrupted. “Even the smallest detail could be significant.”

Tracy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t dare tell them about Karr. Maybe she could say a stranger attacked her. That’s what she could do, and Karr wouldn’t feel threatened.

At least she prayed he wouldn’t.

“We need you to tell us about yesterday,” Cooper said. “Why don’t we start with your day at work. Did it seem like a normal day? Did anything happen that was out of the norm?”

Tracy hesitantly began talking, beginning with whether or not she had put the money in the safe and her decision to go back to the museum. She avoided anything about Karr. Then, sketchy on details, she told about the attack.

Finally, she lay back, limp with exhaustion. Even without telling about Karr, reliving every horrible moment left her in a state of collapse.

“Some things aren’t clear,” Cooper said. “We need to go back over your story.”

How much more could she endure? She turned stricken eyes to Sharon and the doctor.

“I’ll give you two more minutes,” Dr. Cole told the detectives. “Then no more questions. My patient needs rest.”

Tracy looked at him with tears of gratitude.

“I’m having trouble with a few things,” Cooper said crisply. “For instance, how were you approached?”

With horror, Tracy realized she had to make up something. Oh, if only they could have waited until she’d had more time. Or when her head wasn’t pounding so hard she couldn’t think.

“Tracy?” Officer Cooper prodded, pen raised over the form.

“I-I was walking home and this car stopped. He, this man asked directions. He said it was too dark, that he couldn’t see the house numbers and he wanted...to show me an address on a letter, to see if I knew where it was.” She trembled noticeably.

Cooper studied her closely. “What did he look like?”

“It was so dark.”

“Was he short, tall, heavy, or was he thin? Come on, Tracy, help us. Was his complexion dark or light?”

Reese glanced at Cooper and frowned.

Tracy was struck dumb. She didn’t want an innocent man picked up, so how could she possibly answer anything?

“Can you tell us what he was wearing?” Cooper persisted.

Tracy shook her head. The questions were fired at her much too fast. She looked at the detective and saw the scornful expression on her face. She wilted, feeling like a child again, accused of something and helpless to defend herself.

Dr. Cole stood, his voice tight. “You’re reaching your limit, Officer Cooper. I suggest you go a little easier.”

“One more thing.” Cooper watched Tracy carefully. “How did you get the head injury?”

How could she answer that? She thought she saw a nightstick, but she couldn’t tell them because it would so obviously point to a cop or someone in security. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her eyes filling again.

“Okay,” Dr. Cole said, “that’s enough. I’ll get the nurse and we’ll proceed to the exam.” He stepped out of the room.

“You did fine,” Reese told her, his voice soothing.

Tracy felt Cooper’s eyes on her and made a conscious effort not to squirm.

A different nurse accompanied the doctor, a woman in her thirties, with dark hair pulled neatly into a French braid.

“Hi, Tracy, I’m Jean.” She gave a gentle smile. “We’re going to take some pictures of your bruises.”

Would this nightmare never end?

“Just relax,” Jean said, “it won’t take long. Please turn your head this way.” Another nurse held a ruler next to the discolorations while Jean snapped a few pictures, then she put everything into an envelop and sealed the top. She then examined Tracy’s clothing.

“Is this your robe?”

“It’s Diana Golden’s.” Tracy explained what happened.