I closed my eyes.
* * *
I woke in a small room with peach walls and furniture that looked like it had been covered by plastic picnic tablecloths. A steady, high-pitched beep came from a monitor to my right. The bed I laid on had metal railings and made crinkling sounds when I moved. There was an IV sticking out of my right arm, and I was wearing a thin hospital gown and scratchy underwear.
My head ached, but not like before. My body was sore, but not unmovable. I pushed the blanket back and stared at my bare legs. Apart from a couple of bruises, they looked all right. My arms felt fine. My body was all accounted for.
But something had happened to me. I knew something had, I just didn’t know what.
The door creaked open, and a man stepped through the threshold. Against the bright lights of the hallway, I could only see his silhouette, but I knew immediately who it was. Those broad shoulders and tall build. The mess of wavy hair. That familiar clench in my belly that happened every time he was close.
“Hey, you’re awake.” He came beside the bed, the wariness now evident in his dark eyes. His hand reached for mine, but he pulled back at the last moment, like he was afraid I might break. Dread whipped across my rib cage.
I covered my legs.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck, remembering how safe I’d felt in his arms when he’d taken me in the ambulance. Now the strain from the fund-raiser was back between us, only multiplied by a thousand.
“Considerably less crazy,” I said. “Did I get in an accident or something? Everything’s . . . cloudy.” I wondered if I should be embarrassed. Maybe I’d done something stupid.
“You look cold. Are you cold? I’ll get a blanket.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re hungry though,” he said. “Let me go find you some food.”
He turned to go.
“Wait,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on first.”
His posture was curtain-rod straight. “I don’t know yet.”
My stomach had started to churn again.
“You said . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on his words drifting across my mind. “You said I’d been gone for three days.”
When I opened my eyes again he was staring at the wall.
“Look at me,” I murmured.
Slowly, he turned, and when his gaze found mine, I nearly broke down. There was so much grief there, I didn’t know how it hadn’t knocked him to his knees.
“Anna, it’s Monday,” he said.
Monday. The fund-raiser was Friday. I’d lost track of a full weekend? That didn’t make sense.
“That’s not possible,” I said.
He gripped the bed railing, staring at it as if he might bend it just with the strength of his hands.
“I didn’t drink that much,” I said. But I couldn’t say for certain if that was true. My frown deepened.
I was suddenly struck by the thought that something was wrong with me. Really wrong, like the cancer that had taken my mom. When she was nearing the end, she lost time, too, although that was mostly due to the pain medication. Maybe there was something messed up in my brain. A tumor, or . . .
“Hey,” said Alec softly. He still didn’t touch me. What I would have given for him just to hold my hand.
He belonged to someone else, though. Or maybe they were just friends with benefits. It was complicated. That much I could remember.
“I talked to your dad and Amy after we got here. They’re on their way.”
“I’m sure my dad’s called in the cavalry,” I said, voice shaking, trying to smile. “I’m surprised he isn’t already here.”
Alec got that look on his face again.
“We’re outside Orlando,” he said. “I was already out looking for you when the kid at the fast-food place called. It’s going to take everyone else a little while to get here.”
“Orlando?” I shook my head. This sure didn’t feel like the happiest place on earth. “What the hell happened?”
“You’re going to be okay,” he said, avoiding the question. “You were dehydrated. You need to eat something. Everything else . . .” He released the bed and took a step back. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
He looked desperate, and that scared me half to death.
I closed my eyes, concentrated. “The fund-raiser. We talked in the kitchen. I remember Marcos taking me home. I . . . I went out after that.” I laughed dryly. “I don’t even remember where. That place on Himes, I think.”
“Anna?” Amy burst through the door, followed by a nurse. She was still dressed in her work attire, even with the black, hip-length smock lined by silver hair clips.
“Ma’am, you need to sign in!”
“Jesus jumped-up Christ, where have you been?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into her arms like I was a rag doll. “I thought you were dead, you know that?”
“I’m not dead,” I said lamely.
The nurse, an older woman with kind blue eyes, looked at me for approval of Amy’s presence, and I nodded.
Amy pulled back and looked at my face. “You don’t remember anything? Alec said on the phone that you have amnesia or something.”
“Amy.” Alec motioned for her to step away while the nurse began checking my blood pressure with cold hands and asking me questions about my pain level. I tried to listen to what Alec was telling Amy, but he was speaking too quietly. It didn’t matter; their body language was enough to tell me it was bad news. Amy sagged, and turned away, and Alec stared at the floor.
When Amy turned back, she was all smiles and red, tear-filled eyes.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s eat something, huh?”
“Actually, if it’s all right, now might be a good time for us to talk,” said the nurse. She sat on the bed beside me and patted my hand. “Why don’t your friends give us a minute?”
“No.” My voice cracked. Maybe she was nice, maybe she was freaking Mother Theresa, but I didn’t want to be alone with anyone I didn’t know.
The nurse stroked my forearm. “Okay. That works.” The bed’s plastic sheets crackled as I sat up. She gave me a Time to Be Brave smile, which of course made me feel exactly the opposite.
I willed her to talk fast. Bad news always was better swallowed fast, and she was taking her sweet time about sharing.
“While you were resting we did some blood work. You’ve tested positive for Rohypnol, do you know what that is?”
The world seemed to slow, then ease to a stop.
My first thought: Thank God I don’t have a brain tumor.
My second thought: Oh shit.
Rohypnol. It had been a long time since I’d heard of the drug, but it wasn’t foreign to me. My dad had included it as part of his birds and bees talk when I turned thirteen.
Cops could go a little overboard sometimes.
Amy came around to my other side and grabbed my other hand. She was trying not to cry—her lip was quivering. If you cry, I’m going to kill you, I wanted to tell her. One of us needed to keep it together.
The nurse went on to explain. It felt like she was speaking to me from the end of a long tunnel.
Rohypnol. Roofies. The date rape drug.
Rape.
I jerked up in my bed. No. That wasn’t possible. I felt fine. I hadn’t been raped.
Amy turned to Alec, who was staring at me from where he’d frozen in place against the wall.
“Alec, why don’t you go find Ben? He’s probably just getting here.”
My dad was here.
“Don’t tell him anything,” I demanded. I couldn’t look at Alec. I couldn’t look at any of them. “Nothing happened. I don’t want him panicking for no reason.”
Alec
left silently.
The nurse said she needed to do some more tests. I knew what a rape kit was. I’d been introduced to them in my days as a social worker. Like an annual exam, but they were looking for signs of forced entry. They would give me a shot for possible exposure to hepatitis. They would see if I had HIV. There was a discussion of the morning after pill.
She could have the doctor do it right then. I wouldn’t even have to be inconvenienced by going to another room.
“I haven’t been raped.” I looked at Amy. “I know you think I’m crazy, but I would know.”
“Let’s just get this over with then, okay?” Her voice shook.
“I’m serious,” I said. “That isn’t what happened.”
“All right.” She squeezed my hand, and damn her all to hell, she started to cry.
Seven
I sank down to the floor of the narrow tile shower, gripping my knees to my chest. The IV line twisted around my wrist, a constant reminder that I was tethered here, unable to leave. That my body was too weak to work on its own.
That someone had done this to me.
I’d agreed to the test just to prove them wrong. I took the shot, and did a blood test and mouth swab for HIV. I lay back in my bed while a female doctor came in and gave me her best pity smile. Amy held my hand the whole time, but I felt like I was the one holding her hand, because she was the one who was scared.
I hadn’t been scared.
I’d been humiliated.
Alec had known this would happen before I’d woken up. He’d known the drugs were in my system. That’s why he wouldn’t touch me. He probably thought I would fall apart. Or maybe he thought I was damaged. The idea of either made me sick.
The doctor had frowned when she was finished, and asked me for the second time if I remembered anything from the last couple of days.
“You may,” she’d said when I told her no. “They might just be images, like how you remember a dream. I’d encourage you to call the police if that happens.”
I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. I let the shudders work through me, wishing I had something to hold me down besides this IV line.
I willed myself to remember. I tried to focus on anything after the fund-raiser, but it was like those days didn’t even exist.
What had happened to me?
“There’s no sign that you’ve been assaulted. I’d say you may have gotten really lucky here, Ms. Rossi.”
Lucky. I sure as hell didn’t feel lucky.
I hugged my knees so hard my arms started to shake.
I hadn’t been hurt. That was all that mattered.
“Whoever gave you this drug may have gotten scared, or changed his mind. That might be why he left you so far away from where you started.” Her frown had irritated me. It was like she’d wanted to tell me bad news. I told myself it was just because the situation confused her.
Welcome to the club.
“When can I leave?” I’d asked.
A couple of days. She wanted to keep me for observation. My fluids were low, and there were still traces of the drug left in my system.
She wanted me to talk to a psychiatrist.
“You’ve been through quite an ordeal, Ms. Rossi. You may have questions you want to talk to someone about.”
Oh, I had questions. Questions like who the hell had drugged me and why.
My mind turned to Alec and the trial, and I couldn’t help wondering if this was all related to Maxim Stein. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had threatened us to keep me quiet.
Those were questions for later. For now, I could only focus on the present.
I was okay.
I hadn’t been hurt.
The relief seeped through me, but it felt like poison. I crawled to my knees, leaned over the toilet, and threw up.
The knock came less than two minutes later.
“I got you some soup,” Amy said. “And orange Jell-O. Yum, right?”
The door didn’t lock. When I was silent, she pushed in, and without a word, helped me up and into the bed. I felt weak now, no longer driven by anger or pride. I was hollowed out, too tired even to hold my head up.
She crawled onto the foot of the hospital bed and sat cross-legged, the tray of food between us.
“I’m sorry I didn’t go to the fund-raiser,” she said. She looked up and blinked rapidly, eyes watery. Amy wasn’t much of a crier; I hated seeing her so torn up.
“It’s not your fault.” My voice was raw.
She scoffed pitifully, as if this was a joke. What happened wasn’t her fault, and I needed the subject changed ASAP.
“Did you know Alec and Janelle were . . . a thing?” Dating? Together? I didn’t know.
She peeled back the cover on the broth, refusing to look up.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” she said. “It was different with him. I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as us eating brownies and throwing a pity party. It was going to wreck you, and I . . .”
She covered her mouth with her hands. “That’s why you went to that bar, isn’t it? Alec said the bartender saw you there drinking alone before you hooked up with someone.”
“I didn’t hook up with anyone,” I said, wondering if this bartender had seen who had taken me. “I don’t even remember going.”
Amy handed me the spoon. The idea of eating made me even more ill, but my growling stomach disagreed.
“It was in the news,” she said. “The woman he’s seeing was the FBI agent working his case. She got demoted or something when their affair went public a month or so ago.”
I couldn’t help but feel a little validation at that, but it still felt like a betrayal. If Alec had to date someone, I wished it was someone that one, I didn’t know, and two, wasn’t such a ball-busting bitch.
I leaned forward, and Amy propped a pillow behind my back. “Is it too late to try brownie therapy?”
“Never.” She picked at her fingernails.
“I have so many questions.”
“I’m sure.”
“Does anyone have any idea who did this?” I tapped the tray with my spoon, not totally sure I was ready to try eating yet.
Amy shook her head.
“You’re dad’s been raising hell with the local PD trying to figure it out, and Alec’s using his resources at the FBI.”
“You mean Janelle, his girlfriend.”
She nudged the tray in my direction. So they were together.
“Whoever thought orange Jell-O was a good idea?” she said. “It tastes like cough syrup. Twenty bucks for an Advil, but they can’t spring an extra fourteen cents for strawberry or cherry.”
I looked across the bed at my best friend, sitting there like she had ten years ago when our biggest concerns involved boys and parties. I hoped in ten years she was still sitting there. I hoped in fifty years I could still count on her to be the one holding my hand and crying the tears I couldn’t cry.
I leaned over the tray and hugged her. “I love you, Amy.”
She sighed and squeezed me as tightly as she could. The soup sloshed up against my knees, probably soaking the sheets.
“I know,” she said. “I love you, too.”
“Can you do me a favor?”
She sat back. “Anything you want.” Her eyes darted from side to side. “Want me to take a hit out on the girlfriend?”
I smirked. “She carries a gun.”
“Well, I carry sharp scissors, so she can kiss my skinny ass.”
I laughed, and it felt like ice chipping away inside of me. I tried a sip of the broth. The second it touched my tongue, my stomach started grumbling for more.
“Can you hold off my dad for a while?” The momentary lightness was doused in shame. “I know he’s probably freaking out but I just . . .” I bit down on my lower lip, trying to
keep my voice from trembling. “I can’t see him right now.”
I was sure by now he knew that they’d found roofies in my system. Alec had probably told him they’d done an exam to see if I’d been raped, as well.
I was his little girl, and I wasn’t ready to see the way he looked at me now.
My mind shifted to Alec, and where he was. He probably didn’t know that I was okay. I wanted him to know, for some reason, but the thought of facing him, too, seemed overwhelming.
Amy gave a sober nod. “Sure. I’ll tell him visiting hours are over.”
“Okay.”
She took a deep breath. “Which probably means I should go, too, otherwise he’ll never believe me.”
“Yeah.”
I didn’t want her to leave, but I was getting sleepy again. I didn’t understand why. I’d slept for three days. I should have been more awake. Must have been the drugs in my system.
“I’ll be back tomorrow with real food,” she said.
“Corndogs and Hamburger Helper?” My eyelids were getting heavy.
“Watch it,” she said, pointing a finger at me.
One more hug, and I was alone.
* * *
For the first time in three days, I dreamed.
I was lying in the back of a car, my cheek pressed against the smooth, cool leather of the seat. Fuzzy images, just flashes, nothing I could hold on to. Nothing that should have been terrifying.
I woke up screaming.
My arm was tangled in wires. From behind my head came the beep of the heart rate monitor. I gasped for air.
“Anna, it’s all right.” I blinked, but the room was dark, and I could barely focus.
“It’s all right, I’m here.”
Alec. His voice wrapped around me like a soft blanket. His hands found my shoulders and slid down my arms. The touch was soothing, and I gripped his forearm with both hands, using him as an anchor.
The Confession Page 6