by Burton, Mary
“Sure, no problem,” the male said.
“Thanks,” he said.
The couple continued down the trail.
“We’re heading up the mountain, aren’t we?” Ellis asked.
“I am.”
“Which means I am,” Ellis said. “Where you go, I go.”
“There’s a ninety percent chance that Debbie Roberson never set foot in this park,” Nevada said.
Macy and Bennett arrived at the Shady Grove Real Estate offices minutes after seven to interview the third rape victim, Rebecca Kennedy. An early wake-up call that morning coupled with the nonstop investigation was taking a toll.
Macy had no time to be tired, so she would suck it up. She would get her old life back even if it killed her.
The Shady Grove Real Estate facility was a one-story building with a small front porch and a couple of inviting rockers beside a sign that read WE DON’T JUST SELL HOUSES; WE CREATE HOMES. The windows were large and inviting, and the place still had a new-building look that would surely fade soon.
They knew Rebecca worked late hours but hadn’t called ahead to announce their visit. Macy didn’t want to give Rebecca time to fabricate a reason to avoid an interview.
Bennett strode to the front desk, catching the eye of the woman behind the counter closing up for the day. “Jenny, remember me from the self-defense speech I gave at Rotary a few months ago?”
“I do,” Jenny said, smiling. “Good memory for names.”
“Can you ring Ms. Kennedy and have her come out here? I have a few questions.”
“I think she might be finishing up with a client.”
“Well, ask her to get to a stopping place and come out front. It’s important.” Though Bennett rarely raised her voice, her clear, direct tone gave no room for argument. Jenny nodded and quickly ducked around a corner.
“Ms. Kennedy owns this business?” Macy asked.
“Yes, she opened it after she graduated college. She’s done very well for herself.”
Five minutes later a petite, slim woman came around the corner. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a navy-blue dress and flats. Sadly, she fit the perpetrator’s target profile of a pretty young woman. And her small stature would make her easier to subdue.
Macy reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her badge. “Ms. Kennedy, I’m Special Agent Macy Crow with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
The woman looked at Bennett and then back at Macy. “Now’s not the best time.”
“I know it’s not ideal, but I’m going to need to hear your story,” Macy said.
“I gave a statement to Sheriff Greene when it happened.”
“I may be able to get you to recall a detail that can help apprehend the man who assaulted you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come by the offices yesterday. I just couldn’t bring myself to face that place.”
“We understand,” Macy said.
Rebecca crossed her arms. “I saw you on the news this morning, and then I hear Debbie Roberson is missing. What the hell is going on in this town?”
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
“It’ll have to be quick. I have a client arriving soon. There’s a lounge over here.” Rebecca led them across the lobby to a small alcove furnished with a small round table and several chairs around it. A large box of tissues sat in the center.
Macy eased into her seat and shifted her weight until she found what might pass for comfortable before removing her legal pad from her backpack. She flipped to a clean page. “Ms. Kennedy, take me back to the night you were attacked. Do you remember what the weather was like?”
“The weather?” Absently, Rebecca fingered the edge of her turtleneck. “It was hot. Really humid.”
“It was August, correct?”
“Yes. August 15. I worked a late night at my dad’s real estate firm. I was an intern in his office in those days. My parents had separated, and it was my chance to spend time with him.” She brushed imaginary lint off her very clean sleeve. “I stopped by the grocery story to pick up a soda and a frozen pizza. I was excited about putting my feet up and watching a movie. I had my mother’s house to myself that night, and I was glad for the solitude.”
“Where did you buy your soda and pizza?”
“Lucky’s market.” The same place Debbie had last been seen.
“And did you see anyone in the parking lot or in the store that made you nervous?”
“No.”
“Was there anyone else in the store?”
“Just the clerk and me.”
“Bobby?” Macy asked.
“Yeah. There was also a couple of the high school kids in the parking lot.” A faint smile tugged her lips. “They were comparing fake IDs. Stupid because in those days everyone basically knew who was or wasn’t underage.”
Macy smiled, hoping it didn’t look as strategic as it felt. “I tried to pass off my share of fake IDs as a teenager. Never had any luck.”
“Me neither. I still occasionally get carded. It’s flattering now.” She smiled.
“So where did you go after Lucky’s?”
“I drove home and stepped out of the car. I was juggling my bags and keys and trying to get the back door unlocked. I remember feeling really creeped out, like someone was watching me.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. I even scanned the woods, thinking I’d see someone, but there was no one. I shrugged it off and went inside.”
Rebecca grew more somber. “I put the pizza in the oven, took a shower, and when I got out, I ate a slice in front of the television in my room.”
“Where was your room?”
“First floor in the back of the house.”
Everything she’d said so far fit the pattern of this offender. “I went to bed and fell asleep with the television still on. I startled awake to a hand over my mouth and a man wearing a mask standing over me.” She closed her eyes and shuddered.
“I know it’s not easy, but help us catch this guy, Ms. Kennedy.”
She nodded. “At first I was so stunned I froze, but then I guess the adrenaline kicked in. I tried to bite and kick him. God, he was powerful. The more I fought, the more he seemed to enjoy it. Then he pulled this rope out of nowhere and tied me up.”
Macy leaned forward. “The rope wasn’t in his hands when you first saw him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“It might help you remember.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“You were lying in your bed. Was there air-conditioning?”
“Yes. I could hear it humming.”
“Good. The sheets are soft. And then you feel a man on top of you? Did you get a sense of his size?”
“He felt huge.” Her brow knotted. “His feet extended over the edge of the bed.”
“You said he was wearing a ski mask.”
“Yes. It was black with a tight weave. I could only see his eyes and a little bit of his mouth. The openings were trimmed in red.”
“What color was the skin you saw around the eyes and mouth? Was he a Caucasian? African American?”
“He was a white guy.” Her lip quivered. “This is going to sound weird, but he smelled nice.”
“How did he smell?”
“It was a spicy cologne. I smelled it once on a guy years later and nearly freaked out. But I got up the nerve to ask him the brand.”
“And?”
“He said it was called Beacon. I even went to the local mall and found a bottle of it. I smelled the tester at the counter and started crying. The woman must have thought I was nuts.”
Macy noted both details in her pad. “Go on.”
“He yanked up my nightgown and was quickly inside me. He kept staring at me but had a weird look in his eyes.”
“What color were his eyes?” Macy asked.
“Blue.”
/> “Why did they look weird?”
“Honestly, he looked sad.” She shook her head. “Anyway, he finished pretty quick and then he tugged up his pants. I thought he was finished and was going to leave. But he wrapped his hands around my neck. He tightened his grip, and I started gasping for air.”
“How did his hands feel? Were they rough or smooth?”
“Rough.”
“Did you see hair on his arms?”
“Yes. It was dark.”
“Did he have a tattoo or scar?”
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. “There was a scar on his abdomen. I remember seeing it when his shirt rode up while he was raping me.”
“Where was the scar?”
“Straight across his gut. And it didn’t look like it was from surgery but from an injury. It was jagged and ugly.”
“You’re doing very well, Ms. Kennedy. Tell me what happened next?”
Rebecca raised her fingertips to her neck. “He tightened his hands around my neck. His eyes changed. They didn’t look sad anymore but excited. He liked doing that better than the other thing.”
“Did you pass out?”
“No.”
“Did he speak?”
“It was garbled, almost like he was talking to himself.”
“Was his voice deep or high pitched?” Macy asked.
“It was barely a whisper. He sounded hoarse. Young. I don’t think he was much older than I was at the time.”
Macy noted Bennett’s keen attention, but she seemed willing to let Macy run this interview. “Did he say anything else?”
“No. But he paused at my dresser and took one earring from a set that had been my favorite. I wore those earrings all the time.”
“Do you still have the remaining one?” Macy asked.
“No. But it was a gold knot with a pearl in the center.”
“And then?” Macy asked.
“He left. I didn’t hear him leave the house, and for a long time I thought he was still there.”
“Was he?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “He came back in the room, and it was like he couldn’t hold himself back. He crossed the room and began softly touching my neck. In a split second his caress turned to a chokehold more vicious than before. My vision blurred and I passed out.”
Rebecca drew in several deep breaths, as if reminding herself that she was not in that room with him and able to breathe.
“What happened next?”
Rebecca balled up the tissue in her clenched fist. “When I came to, he was sitting there staring at me. I was terrified the moment I realized where I was. I could tell under the mask he was really enjoying this.”
“What happened then?”
“He strangled me again.”
“How many times did he do this?”
“Five, maybe six times. I lost count, but the last was the worst. I felt like I was floating, and the world seemed to be slipping away.”
In the ambulance, after the hit-and-run, Macy had coded. No bright lights or the voice of God to guide her, but she did hear her pop’s voice. He told her to stay right the hell where she was.
“My neck was so sore that it hurt to even touch it myself,” Rebecca continued. “I remember looking up that last time into his eyes and knowing I wasn’t going to come back. I didn’t want to die, but I couldn’t stay in that room and keep being tortured like that. So I gave in to it. I stopped fighting, stopped trying to breathe, and just let go.”
“And?”
“I passed out. When I woke, he was rubbing his hands as if they were tired. He finally got up, but instead of coming back for me, he left. I didn’t move for the rest of the night. I was so afraid he would be there to hurt me again. Finally, my mother came home and checked on me.”
“Where was she?”
“At her boyfriend’s house. She told me not to shower and then took me directly to the hospital.”
“Was there any sign of him when your mother arrived?” Macy asked.
“No. She didn’t see anyone.” Rebecca hesitated as her eyes now glistened. She tipped her head back and again touched the edge of her turtleneck.
“I know this is hard,” Bennett said. “But you’re doing a good job.”
“I don’t want to remember,” Rebecca said. “I’ve always made it a habit to leave the past buried.”
“But the past has a way of sneaking up on us,” Macy said.
“True.” Rebecca drew in a breath. “I voted for Nevada because I needed this guy caught more than I wanted to forget.”
“Has this guy ever contacted you since the attack?”
“I did get a weird call last year,” Rebecca said.
“From whom?”
“I don’t know. I picked up the phone and said hello, and there was silence on the other end. And then some man whispered, ‘I will always remember you.’ He hung up and never called again.”
“You think it was him?” Macy asked.
“I’m certain of it. I told Sheriff Greene. He wrote it all down, like it mattered, but I don’t think he did anything.”
The note hadn’t been in Rebecca Kennedy’s file. Macy was silent while Bennett pulled a couple of tissues from the box on the table and handed them to Rebecca, and the woman dabbed the corners of her eyes.
Rebecca inhaled. “You know, I don’t swim anymore because I hate the idea of holding my breath. That is such a stupid little thing, but it irritates me. I used to love to swim.”
Trauma of this kind left lasting marks on the victims. “Would you be willing to meet with a forensic artist?”
Rebecca blinked. “But I didn’t see his face.”
“You never know what you’ll remember. Her name is Zoe Spencer. Very talented and effective at what she does. Give her the chance to help you.”
“Do those sketches really work?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, I’ve seen them on television, but it seems like such a long shot.”
“They do work, and some studies show they’ve been more effective than collecting fingerprints. If you’re willing, I’ll set this up for tomorrow. Agent Spencer will be talking to another woman in town about the same thing.”
“Yeah, sure, I guess. If you think it’ll help.”
Macy sensed the woman’s reticence and attributed it to fear. “If you heard his voice again, would you recognize it?” Macy asked.
“I don’t know.” Rebecca glanced toward the window. “He’s still out there, isn’t he?”
“I think so,” Macy said.
“He could come after me again. I mean, he called me that time. Why would he do that?”
“To scare you and to show you he still has control over your life. It isn’t about the sex; it’s about control and domination.”
“Well, he’s done a damn good job.”
“Time to turn the tables, Ms. Kennedy.”
“Okay.”
“Where are you living these days?”
“In town. I live in the third-floor attic room of an apartment building. My room has no windows. Crazy, right?”
“Not at all,” Macy said.
“I haven’t done anything.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“You’ve survived.” Macy paused while Rebecca collected herself. “Do you live alone?”
“Oddly, I live with my mother. I’ve come full circle. Can you imagine being our age and living with your mother?”
Macy had loved her mother and mourned her death deeply, but they had not been the best of roommates. She had always assumed their issues had grown out of their personalities. Nonstop-action Macy versus television-game-shows Mom. Computers versus magazines. A thirst for adventure versus a fear of the unknown. She realized now that what had stood between them hadn’t been temperament, but the secrets surrounding her birth mother.
“No.” She softened the abrupt answer with a smile. “One last question. Ms. Kennedy, did you know Cindy Shaw?”
Her eyes blinked. Twice. “Yeah, I knew her. Everyone k
new everyone back then. It was small-town living, not like it is here today.”
“Do you have any idea what might have happened to Cindy Shaw?” Macy asked.
“I was pretty messed up that fall, and she was the least of my worries. Why are you asking about her?” Rebecca asked.
Macy was beginning to wonder herself. “Because no one knows what happened to her.”
Rebecca wiped away a tear. “Cindy had a pretty shitty life, and she wasn’t getting along with her brother. It was probably just too much for her.”
“She ever contact anyone after she left?” Macy asked.
“I never heard her name again.”
Macy wrote the initials CS on her notepad and circled it a few times before she asked, “Were you dating anyone around the time of your attack?”
“Paul Decker and I went out a few times in the weeks before it happened, but I kind of stopped calling him back.”
“You broke up with him?”
“Yeah, I suppose I did.”
“Do you think he was your attacker?”
“Paul? No. He didn’t attack me,” Rebecca said.
“Why do you say that? You didn’t see the guy’s face.”
“I would know if it were Paul. I mean, we were together if you know what I mean.”
“Sex?” Macy asked.
Rebecca blushed and glanced toward Bennett. “Yeah. Sex.”
“And he wasn’t angry with you for breaking it off?” Macy prompted.
“It was really a mutual thing,” Rebecca said.
What might have been mutual in her mind might not have been in his. “Did he also date Cindy?” Macy countered.
“Paul dated around and probably still does. Any smart girl knows he’s never going to be in it for the long haul. But sometimes fun and sex are all a girl needs.”
Fun and sex. Both concepts were far from Macy’s life right now. “Ms. Kennedy, thank you for your time.”
“Look, I know I said I don’t like talking about this, but if talking will help find Tobi’s killer, I’ll talk to your friend.”
“Agent Spencer will be in town tomorrow. Will you see her then?”
Her body tensed, but she nodded. “Absolutely.”