Pamela Frost Dennis - Murder Blog 01 - Dead Girls Don't Blog

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  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.

  FIVE

  Saturday, May 4

  1996

  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 be 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.

  “I just made a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup, Detective Yaeger?” said Belinda in a forced chipper tone.

  Yaeger dropped her huge brown leather purse on the beige carpet next to an easy chair. “I am so far over my daily caffeine quota already, but yes, I would. I still have a few hours to put in. And please, call me Angela.”

  Belinda smiled and nodded. “How do you take your coffee, Angela?”

  “A little milk and one sweetener, if you have it. I brought the mugshot book with me and I thought Lindsay and I could look at it.” Angela set the heavy book on the coffee table and addressed the dog, who was giving her the stink eye. “Aren’t you a beautiful dog. What’s your name?”

  “He’s Muttley.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Muttley.” She reached out and when he didn’t object, she stroked his soft white fur. “My sister-in-law raises Pyrs. Such wonderful dogs.” She turned to Lindsay. “Before we look at the photos, I’d like to ask some more questions. Is that all right with you?”

  It wasn’t all right, but she knew she had to do it. “Yeah.”

  The girl’s reluctance was obvious to both women, and they glossed over it with exaggerated cheeriness. As Belinda left the room, she called over her shoulder, “Honey? Can I get you anything while I’m in the kitchen? Juice? Soda?”

  “No thanks, Mom.”

  Angela settled in the easy chair and opened her notebook. “Let’s talk about the weird sign you saw on the house. Could it have been Greek letters?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” She scrunched her face. “Actually, I don’t think I know what Greek letters look like.”

  “That’s okay. We’ll get back to that later. You said it was a big house. Was it a new house?”

  “No. Old.”

  “Do you remember the color?”

  Lindsay gazed at the ceiling in thought. “I think it was light colored. Not dark.”

  “Gray? White? Tan?”

  “I’m not sure. Anyways, it was a big, old house and…and it had a porch. There were lots of people on it and I remember I was really embarrassed to walk by them. We went inside and stood around, and then this one nice guy got us some sodas.”

  “Who’s us?”

  “Me and Jenny.”

  “What about…” She scanned her notes. “Mallory?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “I don’t know where she was.”

  “And the boys you came with? What were they doing?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I felt really stupid and just wanted to go home.”

  “Okay. Let’s go back to the boy who gave you the sodas. Do you know his name?”

  “No.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t remember,” she said. “Just a boy.”

  “How old do you think he was?”

  “I dunno. Maybe twenty?”

  “Ethnicity?”

  Lindsay was stuck. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Was he white, Hispanic—”

  “White.”

  “Hair color?”

  Lindsay shook her head no.

  “Was he shorter or taller than you?”

  The girl’s face brightened. “Taller! Brown hair, I think.”

  “Heavy, slim?”

  “Uhh, kinda medium, I guess.”

  Angela read her notes. We got a medium build, average height, maybe brown haired, white male, maybe twenty, who gave the girls a soda in an old light-colored house with a porch. This is going well, she thought sardonically.

  Belinda returned with the coffee and a plate of chocolate chip cookies and set them on the table. She sat next to her daughter. “I made those cookies yesterday.” Before our world came crashing down, she thought.

  Angela sipped her coffee and nibbled a cookie, then continued. “What happened after you got the sodas?”

  Lindsay thought a moment. “I remember Jenny and me drinking our sodas and, and, oh yeah, he showed us where the party food was, and then I think she went to the bathroom and…”

  Belinda smoothed her daughter’s damp bangs back from her face. “And then?”

  “Umm…I ate a few chips,” she furrowed her brows in concentration. “A different guy gave me another soda. A Dr. Pepper.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  Lindsay slowly shook her head and pursed her lips. “Dark hair, I think. He kept laughing at me. I didn’t like him.”

  “And his ethnicity?” said the detective.

  “I dunno.” Lindsay huddled down on the sofa and clutched the quilt. “I didn’t like him.” She leaned against her mother. “Can I have some orange juice?”

  Angela took that as her cue to back off and worked on her cookie as Belinda dashed to the kitchen. “These cookies are very good. Sure you don’t want one?” She offered the plate to Lindsay, who shook her head.

  Belinda returned with the juice and both women waited while Lindsay gave it her undivided attention. She finally drained the glass and gave it to her mother.

  Angela picked up the mugshot book and addressed Muttley, who was still stationed at his girl’s knees. “May I sit next to Lindsay? We have some important work to do.”

  Muttley sensed her good intention and adjusted his huge body to accommodate her intrusion.

  “If anyone here looks even remotely familiar, say something or point at their picture. Don’t stop and second guess at this point. You never know what might jog your memory.”

  Lindsay hesitantly opened the book and stared at the first page. The men all looked scary, and most were too old to have been at the party. Belinda sat across from them in the easy chair and watched her daughter’s face. She was apprehensive about what might happen if Lindsay recognized anyone. Would seeing the faces of her molesters send her over the edge?

  “Don’t want to remember.” Lindsay turned the pages. “I really don’t.”

  “I understand.” The detective patted her arm. “This is truly awful, but we need to stop these creeps, right?”

  “Yeah.” Then Lindsay looked confused. “What do you mean creeps? You meant creep, right?”

  Belinda sucked in her breath in horror. She’d planned to wait a few days before adding this knowledge to her little girl’s burden. She glanced at Angela, who’d been unaware that Belinda had not told her daughter that three men had raped her. The detective looked sick at her unintentional gaffe. Belinda pleaded with her eyes for Angela to tell Lindsay for her.

  Angela set the mugshot book on the coffee table and took Lindsay’s hands in her own. “Honey, it was more than one boy who assaulted you.”

  Lindsay’s eyes widened and her lips trembled. “What do you mean?”

  “The doctor said three boys…hurt you. They drugged you and that’s why you can’t remember what happened.”

  “Momma?�
� Tears slid down Lindsay’s face as her mother moved to her side and gathered her in her arms.

  “Shhh, baby.” Belinda rocked her back and forth. “They can’t hurt you again.”

  Lindsay cried for a while, not able to fully comprehend the magnitude of her assault. It was strange to be told something this terrible and all you had was a big, blank hole in your memory. “I want to look at the pictures again,” she said in a voice suddenly older than her fifteen years.

  Belinda placed the book back on her lap. Lindsay swiped at her tears and opened the book again. She scanned the pages, scrutinizing each photo, but she recognized no one.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as Angela took the mugshot book from her and stood to leave.

  “You did your best. What more can I ask? You’re a very brave girl.”

  Belinda followed the frustrated detective out to her car. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I hope to God she never remembers.”

  Angela opened the car door, tossed in her purse, and turned to her. “I understand how you feel. Believe me, as a mother, I do. But if she doesn’t we may never catch these monsters. And no doubt they’ll do it again.” Angela shook her head in disgust. “Maybe next Friday night I’ll be visiting another innocent young girl in the hospital.” She paused, looking past Belinda to the houses across the street. “But knowing how Rohypnol works, I think you’ll get your wish. It’s highly unlikely she’ll ever remember what happened.” She checked her watch. “I need to go talk to Jenny and Mallory.”

  Belinda let out an involuntary snort. “Some friends they turned out to be. I wasn’t going to mention this because I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, but when Lindsay missed her curfew last night, I called Jenny’s house and according to her father, both girls were pretty stoned when they got home.”

  “Well, that figures.”

  SIX

  Tuesday, April 9

  Daisy snored next to me in our big cozy chair, exhausted after her morning paper retrieval duty, while I sipped my coffee. The paper remained unopened on my lap, as my thoughts kept sliding back to Lindsay. I’d barely known her, but now she was stuck in my head and driving me nuts.