The clerk sat at her desk and typed Lindsay’s name into the computer. “Yes, she’s here in cubicle four.”
Belinda stepped to the entry door beyond the desk and placed her hand on the door handle and the clerk stopped her.
“We need to do some paperwork, first. Do you have insurance?”
“Yes—but I need to see my daughter first.”
The door was locked. She turned to the clerk, tears streaming down her pleading face. “I have to know if she’s okay.”
The jaded woman softened. “Of course. We can do this later.”
The door lock buzzed and Belinda pushed through. A nurse approached her. “Where’s cubicle four?” asked Belinda.
The nurse pointed at two police officers standing in front of the curtained area. Belinda’s heart thudded with dread, making it hard to breathe as she approached them. “I’m looking for Lindsay Moore.”
“I’m Officer Gabe Miller and this is my partner, Officer Dan Martinez. We found Lindsay sitting at the train station. Are you her mother?”
“Yes.” Please let her be okay. Please.
“She’s been asking for you,” said Miller. “I have to warn you; she’s pretty banged up.”
Apprehension and relief surged simultaneously through Belinda, nearly buckling her knees. Martinez took her arm to steady her and drew back the curtain, revealing a nurse blocking Belinda’s view of her daughter.
“Lindsay? Your mother’s here,” Martinez said.
The nurse turned and stepped aside.
“Momma!”
Lindsay had not called her “Momma” since she was six or seven and the word wrenched Belinda’s heart as she rushed to the bed and pulled her daughter into her arms, barely registering her daughter’s ravaged face. “Baby, what happened?”
“Oh, Mo-mommy. I was so scared.”
“Shhh. Shhh.” She wrapped her arms around her daughter and felt spasmodic shivers rolling through Lindsay’s slim body. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Belinda gently pulled away, fighting to maintain a passive expression as she surveyed her girl’s face. A sob deep inside her threatened to erupt as she tenderly touched Lindsay’s swollen eye and wiped away her tears. “Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know.” She burrowed into her mother’s soft chest. “I just want to go home.”
“We will, honey.” Belinda slid her hand under Lindsay’s green hospital gown and stroked her slender back. She rested her chin on her daughter’s blond head, wrinkling her nose as she caught the unmistakable aroma of cigarettes and pot in Lindsay’s hair.
The attending nurse said, “I need to finish Lindsay’s preliminary exam and draw some blood. Would you like to take care of the paperwork while I do this?”
Belinda rose from the bed and moved out of the way.
“Momma, please don’t go.”
“Not going anywhere, I promise.” She stepped to the foot of the bed and spoke in a cheery voice. “Just getting out of the way.”
The nurse shone an ophthalmoscope into Lindsay’s eyes. “Lindsay, have you had any alcohol or drugs tonight?”
Belinda became indignant. “She’s only fifteen, for God’s sakes.” As soon as she said it, she realized how stupid she sounded. A mother in total denial. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“I understand. I asked because her pupils are dilated. Lindsay, I know how hard this must be for you, but you need to answer my questions truthfully so we can help you.” She glanced at Belinda for backup.
“Honey, please answer her. I won’t be mad. Did you drink or take drugs?” She choked on the words and felt like she was betraying Lindsay by asking. She knew how her daughter felt about drugs and alcohol. A drunk driver had killed Lindsay’s father. And yet her child reeked of marijuana.
“No,” said Lindsay. “I mean, I don’t think so.”
Belinda’s back stiffened. “What do you mean, you don’t think so?”
“I don’t know, Mom. But something really bad happened.” She began to cry again. “I feel so weird.”
The nurse pulled down the sheet to check Lindsay’s feet, and Belinda saw dried blood smears on her daughter’s thighs.
In the early hours of that bleak Saturday morning, Lindsay was subjected to a grueling head-to-toe forensic examination. Even in her foggy state of mind, the inspection of her naked body was an intensely discomforting violation that no young girl was ever prepared for. Blood, urine, and other body secretion samples were collected. Her mouth, vagina, and anal area were swabbed. Fingernails were scraped and the findings placed in a small paper envelope. Then her nails were clipped off and saved in another envelope. Her body was photographed, all injuries documented, and each item of clothing was bagged individually. Lindsay’s hair was combed and hairs were plucked from different sections of her head—the same procedure was followed for her pale pubic hair. Those samples, along with other fibers and hairs collected from her body, were placed in separate envelopes.
During the long exam, Angela Yaeger, a statuesque, thirty-nine-year-old African-American police detective, waited in the ER lobby to interview her. After Lindsay was returned to her cubicle, the motherly detective entered the curtained alcove and gazed at the pitiful little girl huddled in the bed, holding her mother’s hand for dear life.
“Hello, Lindsay. I’m Detective Angela Yaeger.” She displayed her badge.
“Hello,” said Lindsay with a timid half-smile.
Belinda stood up. “Detective Yaeger, I’m her mother, Belinda Moore.”
Angela extended her hand and they shook. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I have to ask Lindsay some questions about what happened. I know it’s been a long night, but we must do this now while everything’s still fresh.”
“Mom? Am I in trouble?” Lindsay asked.
“Oh no, sweetheart. The detective just wants to know what happened. That’s all.”
Yaeger dragged a steel chair to the bedside and sat. “That’s right. We need to get to the bottom of what happened to you tonight. Why you’re injured and confused. Maybe we can figure it out together. Deal?”
Lindsay nodded. “Deal.”
The detective extracted a notebook and pen from her large handbag. “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me where you were going.”
Lindsay released a slow shuddery sigh. “We were going to the movies.”
“Who’s we?”
Belinda sat on the narrow bed again and took her daughter’s hand. “She went with her best friend, Jenny Farrell, and Jenny’s older cousin, Mallory.”
“Last name?”
Belinda looked at Lindsay for the answer.
“Farrell, too.”
“What were you going to see?” asked Yaeger.
“James and the Giant Peach.”
“Oh, that’s a great movie. I went with my daughter and we loved it. Did you like it?”
“Yeah. It was pretty good. It was the only movie my mom would allow me to see.”
“Because practically every other movie was rated R,” said Belinda.
“What happened after the movie?”
Lindsay broke eye contact and picked at a loose snag in the thin, woven blanket covering her. “Um. We were going to go have dinner at the pizza place next to the theatre.”
“PizzaShmizza?”
“Yeah.” Lindsay hesitated and then continued, barely above a whisper. “While we were waiting for a table, there were some older boys in line that Mallory started talking to. Anyways, they invited us to a party.”
Belinda inhaled sharply but remained silent.
“Mrs. Moore? Would it be easier for you if you waited outside?”
“No. I want my momma here,” Lindsay cried out.
“Do we have to do this now?” Belinda felt as though she were trapped in the middle of a Law and Order episode and desperately wanted to turn it off. “I’m sorry. I do understand why you have to do this.”
“It’s all right. I know this is upsetting.” She gave Belinda a r
eassuring smile and then turned back to Lindsay. “Take your time.”
“Mallory wanted to go, but me and Jenny said we should have pizza like we planned.” She stopped, peeping at her mother’s stoic expression. “Mallory told us they were college boys and she’d gone to college parties before and it’d be fun.” She took a breath. “I said, no way. You’d kill me, for sure.” She glanced at her mother for reassurance.
Belinda wanted to scream but forced a smile and said, “You’re right about that.”
“Go on,” said Angela.
“Mallory said we’d be home in time so our parents would never know. We still said no, and then she got all mad that she was hanging out with babies. She’s almost eighteen. Then Jenny said okay and that really surprised me. I guess she didn’t want Mallory to think we were babies.”
Belinda stood abruptly. “Oh, for God’s sake. You are babies.”
Lindsay’s voice rose to a whiny pitch. “I didn’t know what to do, but Mallory promised we would be home by ten, so I had to say yes. What else could I do?”
“You could have called me and I would have come and got you, and we wouldn’t be in the hospital now.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I know it was wrong. I didn’t think.” Then her eyes widened. “Is Jenny okay?”
“Yes,” she answered tightly, feeling her anger flare at Lindsay’s best friend for abandoning her daughter. “When you missed curfew, I called her house and spoke to her. She said she looked for you and when she couldn’t find you, she thought you’d gone home.”
“That’s dumb. I never would’ve left without her.” A tear dribbled down her cheek. “That’s not what a best friend would do.”
“You’re right about that.” Belinda took Lindsay’s hand and squeezed it. “She’s lucky to have you for a friend.”
Yaeger cleared her throat. “Okay. You agreed to go and then what?”
“We walked with the boys to the house where the party was.”
“Do you know the address?”
“No.”
“How about the street?”
“I didn’t really pay attention. Me and Jenny were super nervous about going to the party and Mallory was walking ahead of us with the boys, so we just followed.” Lindsay looked at her mom. “I really didn’t want to go.”
“I believe you,” said Belinda.
“Can you tell me what the house looked like?”
“Umm. It was a big house.” She paused to think. “There was a weird-looking sign on the front.”
The doctor who had attended Lindsay earlier, entered and asked if he could speak to Belinda and the detective in his office.
Belinda was reluctant to leave her daughter. She stood and pulled the thin blanket up around Lindsay’s chest. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes. Please don’t be gone long.”
Doctor Stewart led them down the hall to his office where they sat opposite him at his desk. The certificates on his wall assured Belinda of his training, and the photos told her he was a family man. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “There is no easy way to tell you this, Mrs. Moore.”
“Belinda. Please call me Belinda,” she said to stall the bad news she knew was coming.
He nodded. “Belinda. Our examination confirmed what we suspected. Lindsay has been raped. I am so sorry.”
An icy chill seeped through her as she tried to grasp what the doctor had said.
Yaeger reached over and took her hand. “Are you all right?”
Belinda’s voice was barely audible. “I think I knew it when I saw the blood on her legs. But I don’t understand why she doesn’t seem to know what happened.”
Dr. Stewart put on his glasses and picked up a paper on his desk. “Her urine sample showed she ingested Rohypnol, which would explain her amnesia and disorientation.”
“What’s that?”
“Have you heard of roofies?”
“The date-rape drug?” She gasped and closed her eyes. It was too much to process. Her little girl had been defenseless.
Dr. Stewart cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s more. I’ve looked at the samples we took, and it looks like she was raped more than once. The samples showed sperm from three different males.”
Belinda choked out a strangled, keening moan. “It’s my fault. All my fault.”
Yaeger leaned forward in her chair, looking at Dr. Stewart intently. “Are you sure?” It was a reflex question. She knew he wouldn’t have given Belinda such devastating news if it weren’t true.
He slumped back in his chair. “We’ll know more when we get all her lab results back. But yes, I’m sure.”
Belinda stared down at her lap. Dr. Stewart set a box of tissues near her. Blinded by tears, she reached for it and knocked it to the floor. Yaeger retrieved the box, pulled several tissues out and placed them in Belinda’s lap.
“We’ll want to set her up for counseling as soon as possible,” said the doctor.
“But she doesn’t even know it happened,” said Belinda. “Oh God, how will I tell her?”
Lindsay was dozing when Belinda and Detective Yaeger returned to the curtained alcove. Yaeger stood at the foot of the bed while Belinda sat on the edge and took a moment to look at her daughter before waking her to destroy her innocent world. The doctor had assured her that the facial injuries had not caused any permanent damage, but she wondered about Lindsay’s young spirit. Would she ever be the same again? Was this the abrupt end of her childhood?
“I really hate to disturb her,” Yaeger whispered. “But...”
“I know.” Belinda touched her daughter’s shoulder. “Baby? You need to wake up.”
Lindsay opened her good eye. “Can we go home now?”
“Not yet. The doctors want to observe you for a while.” She removed a stray hair stuck in the corner of Lindsay’s swollen eye. “Do you think you can answer some more questions?”
Lindsay peered down the bed at the detective and nodded. “I’ll try, but I don’t understand why. I know I shouldn’t have gone there, but why do I have to keep answering questions?”
Belinda took a deep breath and glanced at Yaeger for support. The detective nodded but knew now there would be no more answers to her questions.
Lindsay caught the exchange and became fretful. “What’s wrong?”
Belinda took her daughter’s hand and spoke softly. “You were raped, baby.”
“What are you talking about?” Lindsay jerked her hand away and sat up straight. No way would she have forgotten something as awful as that. She would have fought and screamed and kicked and bit and hit. No one could have done that to her. No one. “Why would you say that to me?”
Her mother cupped Lindsay’s face in her hands, and her sad eyes said it was true.
Chapter Five
DEAD GIRLS DON’T BLOG
1996
Saturday, May 4
After a light lunch, Dr. Stewart told Lindsay she could go home. “I want you to rest. No phone calls, no computer. Just rest. Otherwise, I’m going to make you stay here and keep me company,” he said with a wink.
“Okay. I just want to see my dog, Muttley, and nobody else ‘cept Mom, anyways.”
“What kind of dog is Muttley?”
“He’s a Great Pyrenees. The best dog ever.”
“Muttley is a very lucky dog to have a nice girl like you,” said Dr. Stewart. “If it’s all right with you, I need to steal your mother for a minute to sign some paperwork. Then she can help you get dressed. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Dr. Stewart guided Belinda to the nurse’s station before speaking. “We’ve scheduled an 11:00 a.m. appointment tomorrow with your OB/GYN, Dr. Clater.”
“But tomorrow is Sunday.”
“Given the extreme circumstance, Dr. Clater didn’t want to wait until regular office hours on Monday.” He looked at her meaningfully.
“Go on,” she said, knowing he had more to say.
“Among other things, Dr. Clater will b
e checking for intrauterine damage.”
Belinda suddenly felt stone cold. “What about AIDS?”
He shook his head. “It’s highly unlikely in this situation. But we did take blood samples for that and other sexually transmitted diseases. Herpes, gonorrhea...” He saw the panic seize her and stopped. “All very treatable. We already have her on a broad spectrum antibiotic as a precaution.”
Belinda forced her next words out. “What about pregnancy?”
“She’s been given a postcoital contraceptive. It’s highly effective when used within seventy-two hours of unprotected sex. I discussed this with you before we did it, but I can understand if you’ve forgotten. You’ve had a lot to take in.”
That’s putting it mildly. All Belinda wanted to do was take her daughter home and never let her out of her sight again.
He handed her a business card. “We have to make sure she heals properly, both physically and mentally.”
Belinda glanced at it.
“Dr. Greenburg is an excellent child psychologist. I can personally recommend her. My son was being bullied at school, and she has made a big difference in his life. Probably saved his life.”
“I’ll call her.” Belinda stuck the card in the side pocket of her purse.
“I already have. You have an appointment on Tuesday at 4:00.”
Lindsay was resting on the family room sofa, propped against several goosedown pillows with her favorite faded and threadbare quilt tucked around her. Muttley sat on the floor next to her with his giant head nestled on her lap. A taped episode of Sabrina, The Teenage Witch was running on the television, but she couldn’t concentrate on it. Her mother’s words ran in an endless loop through her mind. You were raped, you were raped, you were raped. She couldn’t fathom how something that disgusting could have happened to her and have no memory of it.
The doorbell rang and Muttley grumbled but wouldn’t leave her to answer it. Her mother led Detective Yaeger into the sunny room.
Lindsay paused the show and dully said hello.
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 4