by Dale Roberts
“I don’t want you sharing with her, okay?” Alex said in a shouted whisper. “If she tells that about herself, what won’t she tell about other people? You heard how she talked about the doctor.” Alex stopped when Carmen looked toward the door.
“Okay, you’re ready to go.” Janet handed Alex a prescription for Naproxen and gave brief instructions on how to care for the injury.
Eager to leave, Alex signed the discharge document. “I’ll pull the car around. I’ll be right back.”
Janet leaned down to Carmen. “If you ever need to talk, here’s my number.” She handed Carmen a folded piece of paper. “Sometimes you just need a friend who will listen.”
Carmen took the paper and put it in her pocket.
Chapter Seven
Files covered most of Kathy Samuels’ desk. The SANE examiner’s report and photos, the victim statement, victim background and forensics report, together represented the facts of the case that she would have to learn inside and out, to pick apart, looking for anything that might hint at a lead. Alex watched as she poured through the information, comparing the victim statement to the exam report, trying to match physical findings with the story.
“Just wait ‘til you have ten cases to keep up with,” Alex said. “You’re just beginning to get your feet wet.”
“It would help if I knew what I was looking at.” Samuels ran her fingers through her closely cut hair. “What all is in the evidence kit?
“Basically, it’s a bunch of swabs, blood tubes, a comb and of course a form for the report, and a chain of custody sheet.”
“What all do they do in the exam?”
“That’s not my area. You’ll have to ask one of the nurses. Actually Ms. Freeman is the only one here now.”
Alex’s words were interrupted by his phone. “Mendez.”
“Good morning, this is Dr. Reynolds office confirming your appointment for nine tomorrow morning.”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll be there. Thank you.”
“More info?” asked Samuels.
“No, personal. So, what do we know so far?”
“Nothing. I can’t get anything from the evidence.”
“Well,” said Alex, “We’ll start with general questions, look at the big picture and then get more specific. Let’s get your take on it. Do you think this is his first time?”
“I don’t know. There haven’t been any other cases reported, so it could be.”
Alex shook his head. “It was too well planned and executed. It doesn’t seem like the work of a beginner.”
“So, maybe he just moved to the area and has done this before, somewhere else, maybe in another state.” Samuels smiled, evidently pleased with her deductive reasoning.
“That’s a possibility” Alex said.
“But why would he come here and start attacking women now? And why would he be so meticulous about leaving no evidence, but be careless enough to leave his DNA?”
“Ahh, now you’re beginning to think like a detective. Why indeed?” Alex decided that Samuels didn’t need to know about the needle cap yet. He wanted to be sure it was connected to the attack.
Samuels’ smile faded and she sat with a blank expression, “I got nothin’.”
“The first step to solving a crime is to ask the right questions.” Alex said.
“And the second step?”
“Find the answers, of course.”
_________
“Cold case detectives would now take a closer look at evidence that had been sitting on a shelf for over two decades.” Bill Curtis was saying, “Evidence that could point to a killer.” Alex didn’t care for the cheesy network crime dramas, but he did enjoy the true investigative shows like Cold Case Files and American Justice. They were shows he could identify with. And besides, he liked Bill’s narrative style.
Alex’s show was interrupted by the call. A rape victim was in the ER, and it appeared to be the same attacker. His pounding heart accompanied a sinking feeling, as the thought hit him that there could be another serial rapist in the area.
He knocked on Carmen’s bedroom door and announced that he had a call. He would be back as soon as he could. Getting the non-response he expected, he grabbed his keys and headed for the hospital.
Samuels met Alex at the door as he entered the emergency department. She immediately began filling him in on the details.
“The vic’s name is Monica Brashears, a thirty eight year old white female. Like the last one, she was pushed down from behind while jogging. Her head was covered with some kind of hood or canvas bag, and her hands were bound behind her. This time the vic has good recall of the initial abduction, but doesn’t remember the rape. She didn’t get a look at the perp.” Samuels fired off these facts like a machine gun. She seemed out of breath.
“Had a little coffee this evening?” Alex teased.
Samuels looked at Alex with a blank expression. She didn’t get the joke.
“Detective.” Janet greeted. “How is your daughter’s ankle?”
“Getting better, I guess. She still favors it, but refuses to use the crutches.”
“Maybe they clash with her jeans.” Janet smiled. “You know how teenage girls can be.”
“So what do we know so far?” Alex asked, getting back to business.
“Much like the last one.” Samuels said. “Close to the same age, attacked from behind, she had a period of amnesia about the rape. Woke up naked on a deserted road in the eastern part of the county.”
“And she was jogging too?”
“Yeah, on a stretch out on Summersville Road. A passerby found her on a gravel road. We’re getting a statement from the gentleman who found her, now.”
Alex handed Janet the evidence kit. “See what you can find.”
“I always do,” Janet said as she entered the exam room.
Alex turned toward Samuels, “I want you to find out everything there is to know about both victims. Where they live, work, shop. Where they eat. Do they have any routines that could be learned by our guy? We need to see if they have anything in common.”
“I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”
“Now!” Alex raised his voice. “These attacks came very close together. We need to move fast before he does it again.”
_________
It had been two weeks since Alex last saw her. He was still nervous before every session, but it had gotten easier over the last year. The department initially ordered him to seek therapy six months after Allyson’s death because his work ethic and job performance were declining and his drinking was increasing. Administration felt that he was not grieving effectively. He completed the mandatory sessions a year ago, but continued on his own. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just needed someone to confide in without fear of judgment.
Alex went left, out of the elevator, to the second office on the right. He studied the plaque on the wall beside the door.
Elizabeth R. Reynolds PhD.
Clinical & Forensic Psychology
He felt the butterflies rise up in his stomach as he rubbed his palms together. He took a deep breath, let it out through pursed lips and opened the door.
“Good morning Mr. Mendez.” the receptionist greeted, “I’ll let Dr. Reynolds know you’re here.”
“Thank you.” Alex seated himself on the fine leather sofa in the waiting area. The subtle scent of lavender potpourri created a calm, relaxing atmosphere in the tastefully appointed room. He sifted through the stack of neatly organized magazines on the end table, looking for something of interest, but found nothing.
The door to Liz’s office opened. “Come on in Alex.” She greeted him with her usual warm smile.
Alex stood and returned the greeting. He wasn’t sure when they began using first names, but it did seem to make it less formal.
Liz motioned toward the sofa. “Coffee?”
“Thanks. That would be nice. Black, one sugar.”
“I remember.” She poured his coffee, and sat in the chair across from him
. “So, how’ve you been?”
“I had been good.”
“Had been?”
“I had to leave Carmen while she was waiting for her prom date. I was called in for an assault.” Alex took a sip of coffee.
“And she didn’t take it well?”
“That’s an understatement.” Alex raised his eyebrows. “She thinks she’s a low priority.”
“How do you feel?”
“Guilty. I’m torn between my job and being there for her.” He placed the cup on the coffee table. “She is a priority, but…”
“How old is she now?”
“Sixteen.”
“Difficult age. Most children are trying to become independent by the mid teen years. Even though they may rebel against authority, they still want and need parental guidance and involvement, whether they admit it or not.”
“Oh she doesn’t deny that. She makes it quite clear that I’m a failure in that department.”
“She just needs to know you care.”
“She’s trying to play match maker.” Alex said, as he leaned back into the sofa. “She keeps telling me I should date.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“She says I’ll be happier.”
“Would you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because of Allyson,” Alex paused for a moment, “I’m seeing her again.”
“I see…We’ll come back to that in a moment.” Liz wrote something on her notepad. “As for Carmen playing Cupid, I think she’s probably doing it for more selfish reasons.” Liz said, “Being a child in a single parent home is difficult, especially in her case. Even children living with a divorced parent usually at least have the influence of both parents; the authority, protector figure in the father, and the comforting and nurturing that a mother provides. Carmen doesn’t have that luxury. So she demands both, albeit unfairly, from you.”
Alex sat in silence. He sipped his coffee, pondering what Liz said.
“So tell me about Allyson.” she said. “What do you mean seeing her?”
Alex took a long sip of coffee and stared at the table. “I see her, like she’s right there with me.”
“I see,” Liz said, again writing on the note pad. “When does she appear?”
“Different times. Like the other night, when I had to leave before Carmen’s prom date showed up. Then later, I drove out to the old marina. She showed up there.”
“What does she do?”
Alex blushed. “The first time she told me I needed to be more involved in Carmen’s life. She made me feel even more guilty.”
“So she talks to you.” Liz took more notes. “What about the marina? What were you doing there?”
“I’m not sure, actually. I had just left the hospital and drove to McManus Park, where a woman was attacked. Then for some reason, I just ended up out there.”
“What did you do when you got there?”
“We just kind of reminisced, you know, about the good times we had there.”
“Why do you think she’s back?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.” Alex tried to smile. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“How long had it been since you last saw her?”
“I don’t know, a year maybe.”
“And during that time, how was your life?”
“What do you mean?”
She placed the pad in her lap and leaned toward Alex. “How was your relationship with Carmen?”
“Fine, I think. I mean, we had our moments, but nothing that stands out as being bad.”
“So you got along well, no missed major events?”
“There were times that I’d get called in and have to miss a ball game or something like that, but nothing major like a prom or anything.”
“So it’s when you’re under the most stress that you see your wife.”
Alex thought for a moment, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Liz removed her glasses and drew in a deep breath. “I believe Allyson represents your guilt. Your feelings of guilt for her death were difficult for you to overcome. I’m sure that on some level you still feel responsible. Any event that triggers a feeling of guilt, say for example, having to miss your daughter’s prom, brings those suppressed feelings to the surface. These feelings are manifest in the form of Allyson, the central figure in your struggle between guilt and acceptance.”
“Acceptance of what, that I killed her?”
“Did you kill her Alex? Did you pull the trigger?” Liz propped her elbows on her knees.
“I’m the reason she left that night. If we hadn’t argued, she’d still be alive.”
“You can’t predict the future. Sometimes it’s easier to look back and say, if only I’d have done this or hadn’t done that, it never would have happened, but the fact is it did happen.” Liz leaned back in her chair. “Tell me again what the argument was about.”
“You know what it was about.”
“Humor me.”
Alex leaned forward on the couch, propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. “She thought I was having an affair.”
“ Were you?” Liz looked at him from under her raised brow.
“No. She would flirt, but I thought it was harmless until she sent me a suggestive text message and Allyson saw it.” Alex looked up at Liz.
“And she was, understandably upset.” Liz said.
“She was very upset. I tried to explain that there was nothing going on, but she didn’t believe me.” Alex’s voice quivered.
“You talk about me like I’m not here now.” Allyson said, sitting beside him on the couch.
Alex pretended not to hear.
“Let’s look at guilt objectively for a moment.” Liz said. “What is guilt?”
Alex thought for a moment, “Feeling bad for something you’ve done wrong?”
“Guilt is the innate human capacity for self judgment. It serves as a moral compass, helping us to decide between right and wrong. But there are different types of guilt.
There is survivor guilt, in which someone feels guilty for surviving a situation that a loved one did not. It’s common in plane crashes. Then there is the kind of guilt where a person believes they directly caused the death of another. I think that you subconsciously feel the need to punish yourself for her death. Actually, it’s a way to maintain a connection, your way of keeping Allyson alive. If you let go of your guilt, you let go of her. This is why she appears to you.”
Alex sat in silence.
“So if you say guilt is feeling bad for something you did wrong,” Liz continued, “what did you do that was so wrong? Were you having an affair?”
“You know I wasn’t.” A tear rolled down Alex’s cheek.
“What matters is that you know you weren’t.”
“For what it’s worth,” Allyson said, “I believe you.”
Alex heard her but didn’t acknowledge her. He didn’t want to seem crazy. “I may not have pulled the trigger,” he said, “but she is still dead. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
“Maybe you should ask her to forgive you. Is she here now?”
“No.” Alex lied. “That’s the thing. I can’t just make her show up when I want to talk to her. She only seems to come around when I have a lot of other things going on.”
“Well next time you see her, ask.” Liz said. “What about Carmen? Does she blame you?”
Alex drew in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “She’s never come right out and said it, but I think she does.”
“Is that why you find excuses not to be more involved in her life?”
“That’s not fair.” Alex glared at Liz.
“To who, you or Carmen?”
“It’s been just me and her for the last two years. How could I not be involved?”
“Of course you’re there physically, but what about emotionally? Do you talk to her about her feelings? Do you allow her to express he
r pain? She lost something too you know.”
Alex sat silent, staring at the floor.
“She lost her mother.” Liz said, “She shouldn’t have to lose her father too.”
Chapter Eight
Sean Miller stood in front of Alex’s desk. He was a tall thin man in his late twenties, with sandy, red hair and light blue eyes. To Alex, he looked as if he never saw sunshine. His pale complexion was the result of spending most of his daylight hours in the lab. He had been a forensics technician with the department for three years. Alex was impressed with his dedication. It showed in his work. “I have the report on victim number two. It’s the same guy. DNA matches the first one.”
Alex sat staring straight ahead. “So, it’s starting again.”
“What’s starting again?”
Alex leaned back in his chair and began to twist his wedding ring. “We had a serial rapist four years ago.”
“Oh, I remember hearing something about that.”
“It was a nightmare.” Alex still looked at nothing in particular as he replayed the case. “It ended up being one of our firefighters. He’s doing life now. It’s a little scary because that case started a lot like these. The first two victims had no evidence at all. They found semen in the third.” Alex looked up at Sean. “He attacked four more before we matched his DNA. One of them died. According to the ME, it was an overdose of some date rape drug. We probably would’ve never found him if it hadn’t been for the criminal profile and an anonymous tip.” Alex sat staring blindly toward the window on the other side of the room. Alex brought himself back to the present. He looked a Sean, “Did you run a toxicology screen?”
“I did a prelim on both, but they were clean,” Sean said. “Hopefully, we’ll have the results from the needle cap soon.”
“I hope so,” said Alex.
“I can send the blood on both cases to Miami for a comprehensive analysis if you like. If there is a third victim, you might ask for a urine sample. Some drugs will show up in urine much longer than they do in blood.”