"What do you mean you know what it's like?" I sat up so that I could meet her gaze properly.
Her lips pursed, and the softness in her expression faded. Her gaze flickered to the space between us before meeting mine again.
"Sam? What do you mean?" I pressed as my heart thundered in my chest.
"I think you know." For the first time, her confidence fell away and her normally broad shoulders slumped slightly.
My hands trembled as my mouth fell open at her disclosure. I cupped her face, as the horror of what could've happened to her stabbed me in the gut.
"It's okay," she said, her hands closing over my forearms. "It's okay, Rosie." Tears brimmed her eyes and I choked on my breath as I gulped down a sob.
"It isn't. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it would upset you. Like you are right now." Though she never made a sound, a lone tear tumbled down her cheek as her thumbs grazed my wrists.
"I'm not upset for me, Sam. I'm upset for you." I cried for her and it only made matters worse. Her facade cracked, and she closed her eyes as she leaned her forehead against mine. She lowered her hands to my waist.
"Be on my lap, please," she whispered as tears salted her lips.
I shifted to kneel over her and she pulled me into a hug. I cupped her head against my chest. "I'm sorry."
"I know. I'm sorry for you, too." She looked up at me and I brushed the tears from her cheeks with my thumbs.
"What happened to you?" I asked, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead like she did to me.
She let out a soft sigh then cleared her throat. "Right before I got divorced. I...um, was leaving my mother's when she lived in Spokane. She lived in a religious community and there were people who targeted them. I left her place while wearing hijab and two men…" She shook her head and placed two fingers over my lips as if to stop me from talking, but it was her that stopped.
I nodded my understanding and kissed her fingers before pulling her to me. Both of us cried quietly against each other.
"This wasn't how I wanted any of this to go, Rose. Telling each other the most terrible things. I wanted us to have a nice night together. Maybe a little romantic," she said, then hiccupped after. "I didn't want you to know any of this."
"It was a romantic time, Samirah. One of the best nights I've ever had, to be honest." I swiped at my eyes and she met my gaze again. "Maybe we were supposed to know these things about each other."
"Maybe." She laughed faintly then nodded to the movie. "You wanted me to stop it because of the sad ending, but we made our own sad ending."
"No—Not an ending. A moment." I sniffled while tucking her hair behind her ears like she did to me. "Everything we've been through were horrible moments. We can't give it so much power that it ruins our lives. That's what Rebecca always told me when I was upset. It helped me a lot."
"It does help," she said, drawing in a slow breath. "That was the real reason I chose to be an anesthesiologist. So I could help people through their pain. It happened when I was a resident. And why Marita and I became friends. She understood hate crimes. She's the nurse I mentioned."
"It makes sense to me. I became a criminal intelligence analyst to help predict and prevent future crimes. We do what we do because of who we are. We are who we are because of our experiences. And how we handle them."
"Yeah." She cupped my face in her hands again and brushed her thumbs over my lips. "I've only ever told Marita."
"No one else ever?"
"The police, but no one else."
"Did they catch the men who hurt you?"
"They killed them. They were armed and planned a mass shooting at the community center. That's what brought them there. I was a crime of convenience beforehand. Two white boys who weren't even twenty-five. So much hate."
"Your mom doesn't know?"
"No." She shook her head. "I saw a counselor for a while. Marita encouraged me to."
"Was it helpful?" I ran my fingers through her hair and she shrugged.
"Maybe. Did you?"
"Psychiatrist." I nodded. "But not often anymore. She moved her practice to Olympia so I see her once a month."
"Are you on meds?" she asked, clearing her throat when she began asking me questions back.
"Just one now. One for anxiety when I need it. I used to be on Zoloft, but it made me feel flat. Prozac was worse."
"Yeah." She chuckled and blinked away her remaining tears. "I tried a few after it happened. I really enjoy my libido and they killed it."
"Same." I laughed and pressed my forehead to hers again. "Better without."
"Much."
"I'm glad you told me, Samirah. It's not easy living with it alone."
"It's not." She let out a soft breath against my lips. "What happened to the people who hurt you?"
"All four of them went to jail. I testified in court when I was thirteen." I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart. "Everyone in my life knew. They still do. Sometimes I hate it because they all look at me like a fragile victim. I mean, sometimes I'm fragile, but not like they assume."
"Marita never treated me that way." She smiled at the mention of her friend. "She taught me yoga and meditation. Reiki and Tai Chi. I always appreciated that. She's a midwife, too."
"Are you still friends?"
"We are. She got her girl, though. The one she was in love with for like a decade. They're together now." Samirah's expression lifted with the declaration. "Endings like that are much better than the movies."
"Oh yeah." I smiled when some of the light returned to her eyes. "Definitely."
"You know what else is better than movies?"
"What?"
"You." She poked my nose and winked at me.
I smiled and traced her lips with my finger. "Right back at you."
"You know, if I knew that crying would get you in my lap faster, I would've cried sooner," she teased and I laughed.
"Very interesting way to reframe this whole situation. Good thing I like your lap."
"It likes you, too." She ran her hands up and down my sides, though a wave of fatigue seemed to hit her after her disclosure. "I don't want you going home alone tonight. Will you stay here? It's late."
I bit my bottom lip then took a deep breath. "I'll stay. Sometimes I have nightmares. Since Rebecca took me in, I've only ever slept at her house or home. Nowhere else."
"Sometimes I have nightmares, too. We'll be good company when neither of us can sleep," she said, stroking my cheek with her knuckles again. "Working long hours used to be something I looked forward to because then I would pass out so easily after."
"Understandable." I ran my fingers through her hair again. "Maybe we can watch a funny movie before bed to settle us down, because my heart is still pounding."
"I'm game for that. Can I still cuddle you?" A smile curved her mouth and I nodded right away.
"Yes. Can I kiss you?" I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip and she kissed it.
"Yes, Rosie. You can always kiss me."
I closed the distance between us and captured her in a delicate kiss. Her hands gathered between my breasts and I caressed the length of her forearms. Unlike our previously impassioned kisses, this one carried an air of comfort, soothing my tortured insides while relaxing her shoulders.
We shifted our positions after parting, and ended up lying on the sofa together. Samirah spooned me from behind while we chose a comedy about zombies to relax us into rest. With the blanket pulled to our shoulders, I wasn't sure if either of us would sleep, but at the very least, we would continue to share unexpected company.
Chapter Six
I never expected to have that conversation with Samirah, and when I made it home on Sunday, my heart both broke and soared. At the same time that my mind raged and imagined the horrors that Samirah suffered, another part of me reveled in the connection I'd made with her. I hadn't liked anyone seriously in a long time, and to deny the enjoyment of spending time with her would be a fatal error in jud
gment.
Alex remained asleep on the sofa when I arrived, and I headed off to my bed to crash. And allow the memories of last night to roll around my brain.
Monday showed up as usual, and in preparation for my presentation to whoever Chief Walsh invited, I headed into work early. My thoughts continued to swim around Samirah as I catalogued the cases, and arranged an outline of what I wanted to say.
My phone buzzed on the table and I lifted it to see a text message from Sam. I took a deep breath before swiping the screen to open it.
Good luck today on your presentation. I'm sure you'll do great.
Her words brought an immediate smile to my lips. How did she even remember a work thing I mentioned in passing?
Thank you. I hope your first day back to U.W. is good, too.
It's been decent so far. Routine cases lined up. I'm on a three-day shift this week.
Not bad. Do you prefer it like that?
Yes. Four days off following is awesome. I'd love to see you again...perhaps Thursday?
A smile curved my lips and I typed my reply. I would like that. Yes.
I could make reservations at a quiet place for dinner if you like. Or we can keep up our routine of sharing a meal at one of our places. What do you think?
I bit my lip when faced with the choice. I definitely didn't want to bring Samirah to my place with Alex there. I'm not sure.
I'm pretty sure that you're aware of what you're thinking. You won't disappoint me if you tell me the truth. What do you think of those ideas?
My eyes welled up when she blasted my fears into a text. I absolutely worried that I would disappoint her by making the wrong choice. I think I would be okay out to dinner with you in a quiet place, but I've also really liked our time alone at your house. My apartment is too small and I have a friend staying with me...
Much better answer. How about we start off at my place, and decide from there?
Okay. I like that idea.
I'm very glad. Heading into surgery shortly. Talk to you tonight?
Yes. Have a good day, Samirah.
You, too, she said, then added a purple fairy emoji. It made me laugh before pocketing my phone.
The conference room filled with two dozen people and Walsh sat beside me at the head of the long table. Everyone wore dour expressions, and their murmurs matched the emotion in the room. Most folks gripped coffee cups and helped themselves to the pastries on the table regardless.
Ainsley appeared in the doorway, a bright smile plastered across her face as if she arrived timely for a birthday party rather than a meeting regarding a potential serial rapist. She flittered over to me and kissed my cheek.
"Hi, Rosie."
"Hi. I didn't expect you to be here."
"Chief Walsh demanded my presence." She tossed him a playful glare and he scowled. "He's using my promotion for his own personal gain."
"Shut up, Monson." Walsh waved her off and she laughed.
Ainsley took a seat on the other side of me and set her purse down. "Jordan and I would like you to come for dinner tonight. Would you like to?"
"Tonight?" I glanced around the room as the attendees took their seats. Ben and Eve sat closest to Walsh and he turned to them right away.
"Yup. What do you say?"
"Just the three of us?"
"Yes, Rosie." Ainsley smiled and patted my hand. "Just us."
"Okay. Everyone is inviting me for meals lately. It's a little unusual," I said while fiddling with the papers in front of me.
"We've always invited you for meals. It's you accepting invitations more often lately," she said, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "And we like it."
Her reflection brought me pause as I considered what she said.
"All right, people. Let's get it together and give Bryant the floor here," bellowed Walsh and the room quieted down after a moment. "Let's make this to the point, Bryant."
"Of course, Sir." Once everyone settled in, their gazes fell on me and I began my presentation. "Detective Stiles made a request that I search back over his three-year tenure on the Sex Crimes Unit to track trends in reported sexual assaults." I clicked the button on the handheld remote that turned on the digital screen. "Right away, I found a rape-crime trend beginning with Victim One; a white female, twenty-two, who reported a sexual assault in the middle of the day in an office building parking lot downtown. She reported her attacker to be a white male, approximately six-feet tall in a white baseball cap, who smelled strongly of coconut or sunscreen." I pressed the remote and a map of Seattle appeared on the screen with a red dot over the origin of the report. "Victim Two was a white female, twenty-six, reported being raped in the middle of the day at a bus stop. She told the bus driver when he pulled up and he called the police. This victim reported the same; white male, six-feet, white baseball cap, smelling of coconut." The second red dot appeared on the map. I gestured to it and a few people began jotting down notes. "I ran a search based on victim parameters, with one change."
"What's that, Bryant?" asked Officer McCarthy, his brow furrowed.
"I included all races and ethnicities." I pointed at the map and twelve other red dots appeared. "In three years, fourteen female victims around the same age, twenties to mid-thirties. Majority white female, second black female, third Hispanic. Body type of each victim differed. All of the assaults occurred in the middle of the day in public places. All of the victims reported the smell of coconut or sunscreen. All of the victims reported wearing blue skirts or dresses at the time of their assault. All of them had bruises on their necks. These assaults occurred about ten or eleven weeks apart. At first, I compared all of the files from the Sex Crimes Unit, plus independent reports, and imported documents from all precincts to garner this fourteen."
"What about the larger scale search?" asked Eve, leaning her elbows on the table.
I nodded to Chief Walsh. "I was given access to the state-wide system and found this." I turned toward the digital screen and pressed the button again. Red dots lit up the screen. "Fourteen in three years. Twenty-five in six. Forty-two in ten years, statewide. All victims match. All descriptions of the perpetrator remained the same. This does not account for crimes that went unreported. I expanded the age range before this presentation to include victims eighteen to forty-five and the final count appears to be fifty-five." The map lit up like neon lights and I scanned the room at the stoic faces that stared at the screen. The micro expressions—smoothed brows, wider eyes—told me of their unified horror.
"When was the last assault?" asked Eve.
"Three weeks ago." I pointed to one of the dots on the map by the University of Washington.
"How did we miss this? For fuck's sake," a woman said, but I didn't know her name.
"Districts don't talk to each other. Rape kits go unprocessed. This is the result." I gestured to the screen. "It's my firm belief that we have at least one serial rapist in Washington state. Of note, most assaults appear to occur in and around the Seattle area, with the second largest around Spokane."
"Bryant, what do you recommend as the next steps?" asked Walsh.
"Linking the victims further. We need to get more details from them if we can. We also need to pull the evidence from the processed rape kits, and process the unprocessed rape kits to see if we can get a DNA signature," I said, setting down the report on the table between me and Ainsley. Unlike the others, her expression appeared more somber and sad rather than angry.
"I'll requisition all the kits," offered Eve.
"We should also contact the FBI to see if they've found a connection with any of this," said Stiles, gesturing to Walsh. "Sir?"
"Agreed, Stiles. Use your resources and get that information. Grant, you're on kits. Take Nolan with you. Ramos." Chief Walsh pointed at Sadie who sat in the back of the room. "I want you to expand Bryant's research further. Contact Oregon's Central to start."
"On it, Sir," she said, her brow cocked in my direction. I gulped under her speculative glare.
"Bryant, I want you to examine the timeline." Walsh stood from his chair which meant the meeting was all but over. "Work your goddamn voodoo magic or some shit. Whatever you need. Resources. Assistants. Whatever."
"I've started that work, Sir. I'll continue."
"The rest of you, keep your eyes out on this. File your reports. McCarthy, review all complaints coming in from the hotline."
"Yes, Sir."
"Ramos." Walsh pointed at Sadie, his brows narrowed.
"Yessir?"
"If we catch a bastard, Bryant gets a promotion." He grumbled before heading out the door and pulling a cigarette from behind his ear.
Sadie smirked, her hands in her pockets as she followed him from the room.
Some of the folks chuckled on their way out, but the volume of discussion escalated with their furor. Everyone cleared out except Stiles, Ainsley, and Eve. He met my gaze, and pointed at me, though he seemed to hesitate before speaking.
"Good work," he said in earnest, his forehead wrinkling with his intensity. "Good work."
"Thanks." My face heated and I cleared my throat before glancing to Eve.
"We'll end this," she said, her gaze lingering on mine as she stood before looking to Ainsley.
"I have a suggestion," she said, her eyes nearly sparkling.
"Go ahead, Ainsley." I nodded for her to continue.
"You've searched for living victims. Can you expand to include deceased?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Out of curiosity, will you do it?"
I looked from her to Stiles. "Can I?"
"Yes," he agreed as he rose from his chair. "Whatever it takes, Rose."
"Okay." I drew in a deep breath and stood along with him.
On the way out, I glanced at Ainsley and she offered me a sad smile. "You okay?"
"I am. We'll catch him."
"I have faith that we will." Ainsley followed me back to my office, a protective hand on my shoulder. "Is this difficult for you, Rosie?"
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