by Chiah Wilder
For the next four hours, he brutally raped her. She was compliant, not even daring to cry out. The only evidence of her grief, fear, and shame was the tears that kept rolling down her cheeks. Of course, he fed off those wet streams just like he did with her fright.
When he was fully sated, he took out a camera and snapped a slew of pictures of her in various poses, and then he dragged her to the bathroom and made her sit in the tub. Turning on the cold water, he ordered her to stay there until he came back. He returned to the bedroom and stripped the bed of all coverings, shoved her clothes in a large plastic bag, and carefully cleaned anything that could have any trace of his DNA. He went back to the bathroom and ordered his victim to wash herself while he watched, grabbing the soap from her and roughly cleaning her vagina and rear end. Throwing the soap into the bathwater, he said, “Don’t move. If you call the police, I’ll put all the pictures I took of you on the Internet. Be smart, not stupid. Remember, I know where you live.”
Past experience taught him that, fearful he may still be in the house, Linda Salinas would most probably stay in the cold bathwater for at least an hour before her courage allowed her to venture out. By then, he’d be long gone.
He disposed of the bedsheets and clothes, then headed to his house. After checking on his children, he slid between the sheets and tugged his wife to him. She moaned slightly and snuggled close to him. In a matter of seconds, his exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a deep, restful sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
Wexler took a big sip of day-old coffee and thumbed through the report Deputy Miles Carmody had given him concerning his inquiries at Cherry Vale. In the report, the number six stood out like a beacon. Six deaths in four months. That doesn’t sound right. Either Cherry Vale had a slew of very sick, unlucky patients, or something sinister was going on beneath the surface.
He scrubbed his face and leaned back in his chair. I need a damn vacation. There was nothing he’d rather be doing at that moment than sitting on his boat on La Plata River, fishing with his son and throwing back a few beers. Instead, he was sitting in a stuffy office, dripping in sweat thanks to the air conditioner breaking down again, and waiting to get a verbal chewing out by Mrs. Heller’s daughter for the umpteenth time. Shit. He grabbed the handkerchief out of his pocket and mopped his face.
“Rhoades!” he yelled.
A tall, lanky deputy stuck his head in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”
“Call the goddamn town council and tell them we’re on day three of a heat wave and our AC is still broken.”
“Yes, sir.” The young deputy went over to his desk.
Taking out the autopsy report, Wexler reread it. Under the heading “Immediate Cause of Death,” the medical examiner indicated “Congestive Heart Failure.” Even though the report indicated that there seemed to be an unusually large amount of digoxin in the deceased’s body, the coroner noted that Mrs. Heller was taking digoxin intravenously as part of her treatment for heart problems. Then under the heading “Manner of Death,” the coroner wrote “Natural Causes.” Then why was there so much of this heart drug in her body? Where the hell did that come from?
After reading it several more times, he couldn’t find a place where the medical examiner addressed the reason for the surplus of digoxin in the deceased’s body. A stab to his gut told him something wasn’t copacetic at Cherry Vale.
As he picked up the phone to call Terri Crews to share with her the autopsy finding, Rhoades stood in the doorway. Wexler put the phone back in its cradle and raised his eyebrows.
Rhoades cleared his throat. “Our air conditioner is next in line for repair. The guy should be here within the hour. A call came in that there’s been another rape.”
The sheriff pounded his fist on the desk. “Fuck! When?”
“Seems like it started last night and ended sometime this morning. I was going to head over there, but I knew you’d want to know.”
Wexler pushed up from his chair and pulled at his pants that were sticking to him. “Let’s go.”
When they arrived at Linda Salinas’s house, all the curtains were pulled, and she sat on one of the straight-backed dining room chairs staring at the floor. Since Mesa County was small, and Alina even smaller, there was no provision for a victim advocate program; it was up to him and Rhoades to try their best in helping her out with the aftermath of a rape.
After giving the victim some names of local counselors and a program St. Joseph Hospital offered for coping with violent crime, the sheriff left the other two deputies to finish investigating the crime scene. Even though the perpetrator had her bathe, Wexler held out hope that the rape kit would turn up some DNA. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to explore all the possibilities.
This is the third one in two months. The last one was only ten days ago. Shit. We’re in over our heads.
Knowing when to call for experienced detectives who could help find the guy responsible for the attacks was part of the sheriff’s strength. Taking out his phone, he dialed Detective Contreras to see if he could offer any help. He knew the detective worked in the homicide division of the Durango police department, but he hoped he could offer some insight, or at least recommend someone to help him and his deputies.
“How’re you doing, Doug?” Contreras said.
“Shitty. It’s hotter than hell and the AC’s been out for a few days. Typical county bullshit. And we got what seems like a serial rapist in our town. How’re you?” Wexler walked over to the oak tree and stood under its leafy branches for some much-needed shade.
The detective chuckled. “Cool in our air-conditioned office, but up to my neck in shootings. The hot weather brings out the worst in people. The homicide rate always goes up in the summer. So all the rapes have the same markings?”
“Yeah. The bastard enters late at night, wears a ski mask, brutalizes the women for several hours, takes pictures of them, makes them bathe, and takes all the bedsheets and clothes before leaving. It’s the same fucker. We haven’t had a rape in Alina in years, and not any for the last year in the county. I don’t have the manpower and my deputies don’t have the expertise to handle this one. You got someone who can help us out?”
“Sounds like you have an experienced perpetrator. Jack Barnard is the one you want. He’s in our Sex Crimes Unit, and he never gives up until he gets a case solved. He’s been with the department for about six years. Before coming on-board, he lived in Los Angeles and did eleven years with LAPD. Jack knows his stuff. I’ll e-mail you his chief’s number and you can talk to him to see if he can spare him. It sounds like your perp isn’t going to stop.”
“Fuck no. He’s actually kicking it up. We haven’t released anything to the media because I don’t want to cause a panic.” Wexler leaned against the tree.
“You need to. Even though the town council will be up your ass daily, the women need to know there’s a sexual predator out there. Maybe someone saw or heard something. You never know.”
The sheriff’s stomach churned. “You’re right. I’ll give the chief a call when I get back to the office. You got any plans to take your family on vacation?”
Contreras laughed. “I always have plans. The trouble is they always change. I want to take the family to Disneyland, but I haven’t let them know in case it doesn’t materialize. What about you?”
“Not any time soon. With these rapes and some other problems, I’ll be lucky if I can take a day off.”
“I hear you, man. Let me know how things go. If you need my help with anything, give me a call.”
Before going to the office, Wexler decided to stop by the office of the Alina Post. He’d have to brace himself for the pressure his department would experience from the town council and the residents. His life would soon be hell after the evening paper came out.
He shoved a stick of gum into his mouth, cranked up the patrol car’s AC, and headed to the newspaper office.
Chapter Fifteen
Goldie sat in the recliner, his eyes
fixed on the hallway in front of him as his grandma slept. For the past half hour, he’d hoped to catch a glimpse of Hailey. Earlier he’d gone to Patty’s room to check in on her and find out whether Hailey was coming by for a visit. Patty had told him Hailey said she’d be by around three o’clock. It was now four o’clock. He had no intention of leaving until he saw her.
Each time the nurse came in, he seemed surprised to find Goldie still in the room. Goldie’s habit was to leave once his grandmother fell asleep, but he couldn’t risk not seeing Hailey. As he waited, sparks of anger zapped his nerves. Why the hell did she have to be so damn hot? The way she looked at him with her innocent eyes and the way she brushed against him drove him wild. What was it with her? The only woman who’d ever messed with his head happened to be his best friend’s little sister. Is that ever fucked. He was supposed to be watching over her. He’d promised Ryan he would, and all he could think about was kissing, touching, and licking her. He wanted to make her beg him to let her come, then watch her as she did. Fuck!
Blue orbs caught his and Hailey smiled weakly before darting her eyes away as she walked past the door. Like a jack-in-the-box, he sprang up and dashed to the door. “Hailey,” he said to her departing back.
Stopping, she looked over her shoulder. “Goldie. I didn’t know you were here.”
Bullshit, but if that’s how you want to play it, I’m in. “Yeah. I looked in on Patty when my grandma went down for her nap. Come on in. I want to talk to you.”
Frowning slightly, she shook her head. “I have to see my aunt. I’ll come by later. How late are you staying?”
He shrugged. “What about you?”
“An hour or so. I have to get back to the shop. I’ll be by in a bit. If you’re there, I’ll stop in.”
Goldie went back into the room and debated about leaving. If it were any other chick, he never would’ve hung around hoping to run into her, and then she acted like it was no big fucking deal. I should go now and show her I don’t give a shit. But the problem was he did give a shit, and he didn’t know why. There was something about her that gnawed at him, made him do silly stuff like wait around for her. He shook his head; he was going to go.
“Is she still sleeping?” Dan, the nurse, asked.
Goldie nodded. He looked at the medium-built man as he leaned over his grandmother. Even though he’d been thrown into the medical arena by his grandma’s illness, he still couldn’t get used to men being nurses. “I noticed one of my grandma’s eyes is a little red and crusty. It’s the right one.”
Dan turned on the overhead light, then bent over and looked at Helen. “You’re right. There’s a lot of crustiness there. I’ll let Dr. Rudman know. We need to get her up. Dinner is ready and she really needs to try and eat something.”
“Okay. I’m here, so I can coax her.”
Dan smiled. “She always eats so much better when you or your sister are with her. I’ll have the CNAs help her up and see if I can find Dr. Rudman.”
Goldie tensed as Dan left the room. He was not a fan of Dr. Rudman. His feeling was that the doctor decided who should be treated and who shouldn’t based on the quality of their lives. At Cherry Vale, there were three doctors who treated the patients: Dr. Tyrell was the head physician, Dr. Rudman was part-time, and Dr. Daniels, also part-time, had his own practice. Goldie had tried to have another doctor assigned to his grandma, but so far Dr. Rudman was still her physician.
After the CNAs had his grandmother up and seated in her recliner, Kevin, a part-time CNA, came into the room with a dinner tray. He placed it on the hospital table and stared at the older woman. “Are you gonna eat good tonight, sweetheart?”
“What the fuck?” Goldie pushed away from the windowsill.
Kevin shifted his cold gaze to him. “Did you say something to me?”
“Yeah. You don’t fuckin’ call my grandma ‘sweetheart.’ That’s just fuckin’ weird.”
“I was only trying to be nice. Sometimes when I talk like that she’ll eat better. Won’t you, sweetheart?” He stroked her cheek.
Goldie grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard until Kevin cried out. “Don’t ever call my grandma anything but her name. Give her the respect she deserves. And never touch her like that again. Next time, I’ll break your goddamn hand.”
“Garth! Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” Her voice was strong and clear.
As mad as Goldie was, he laughed aloud and stroked her cheek. “You always catch me, Grandma.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head.
“And don’t you forget it. I’m hungry.”
Looping his foot under a stool, he dragged it over and sat down, then took off the plate covers. From his peripheral view, he saw Kevin still standing and watching them. “You’re done here. Get out.” Goldie glared at him.
“So you’re going to help her eat? I usually do.”
“You’re pretty dense. I’m fucking here so I’ll help her.”
Kevin’s gaze was fixed on her as he slowly walked backward until he exited the room.
“Does he act weird like that all the time?” he asked as he put a towel around her neck.
While nodding, she picked up her fork. “He’s a strange man. I really don’t like him.”
Goldie’s jaw tightened as he helped her cut her chicken. “I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t come into your room. I don’t like the sonofabitch.”
She broke out in a string of laughter. “You’re on a roll tonight.”
He loved it when the clarity came back and his grandmother was the person he’d known since he was born.
“Hi, Mrs. Humphries. It looks like you’re enjoying your dinner with Garth.” Hailey’s voice was bright and warm, as if a beam of sunshine had been melted into sound. Goldie watched her as she came into the room and stood before his grandmother. “I’m Hailey Shilley. I’m not sure you remember me.”
Helen peered at her as she chewed her food. After swallowing, she grinned. “You’re Garth’s girlfriend. It’s about time.” She clapped her hands.
“She’s not my woman, Grandma. She’s Ryan’s sister.” Goldie scowled at Hailey as she giggled.
“I know Ryan. Where is he? Is he coming over for dinner tonight?”
“I hope I’m not confusing her,” Hailey whispered.
“You’re not. She has moments of clarity and then they slip away,” he said flatly as he saw the vacant gaze he was too familiar with creeping into his grandmother’s eyes.
“What seems to be the trouble here? The nurse told me your grandmother’s left eye is having a problem?” Dr. Rudman, a man in his late thirties, walked into the room, a stethoscope around his neck and a clipboard in his hand.
“My grandma’s got an infection. I noticed it when I came in. It’s all crusty and red.”
Dr. Rudman went over to Helen’s side and bent down low. “The eye looks fine to me,” he said straightening up.
“Are you fuckin’ serious? It’s all crusted over, and no matter how many times I wipe and clean it, the crud comes back.”
The doctor smiled thinly. “Stuff like this happens all the time to old people.”
“My grandma was old yesterday and her eye was fine. She’s got a damn infection, and I want you to treat it.”
“It’s hard to see a loved one slip away. We want our loved ones to never get old, to never be sick, and to never start the process of dying. Your grandmother is a very sick woman who has a serious illness that will only progress. Her quality of life is very much compromised. You need to consider that. A lot of families have a hard time letting their loved one go, but it’s liberating for a sick patient to let go and move on to another level. Some call it heaven, but I like to think of it as—”
“Shut the fuck up before I bust your face! My grandma has a goddamn eye infection and you’re spewing all this shit about not letting her go and the quality of life? I want her comfortable. Get the damn medicine now or you’ll live to regret you walked into this room.” Goldie was inches away from
the startled physician, who whirled around, mumbled something inaudible, and left the room.
“Unbelievable! What a jerk,” Hailey said. “I’m going to find Dr. Daniels. He’s great and compassionate. He’s my aunt’s doctor here. I know he’s here.” She bounced out of the room and disappeared.
Goldie grabbed one of the many pillows on his grandmother’s bed and pounded his fist into it over and over. If he were alone, the room would be trashed, but he’d have to appease his rage with the synthetic pillow. With his bare hands, he grasped it hard and tore it open, the stuffing spilling onto the floor.
A hand on his shoulder interrupted the rage, and he jerked his head up and saw Hailey. Standing behind her was a man about thirty-six years old in a solid shirt with a paisley tie. “Are you okay?” Hailey asked in a soft voice near his ear. The tips of her hair tickled his arms and the scent of the ocean swirled around him, calming him.
Letting out a deep breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, he nodded. Jerking his head at the man behind her, he asked, “Who’s he?”
“That’s Dr. Daniels. I asked him to come in.” Hailey gently took the mangled pillow out of his hands.
“I heard your grandmother has a problem with her eye.” He walked over, traipsing through the synthetic chunks from the destroyed pillow.
“I just told Dr. Fuckman there was something jacked up with her eyes and he gives me all this shit about having to let go.” The anger still smoldered inside him. Hailey sat next to him and took his hand in hers.
Dr. Daniels glanced at him quickly, then looked at Helen’s eye. “You’ve got quite an infection there, Helen. I’m going to put some ointment on your eye to give you some relief for now. Are you okay with me doing that?” Helen stared at the blank TV screen. The physician put on gloves, took out a tube, and applied the ointment over her eyelid.