“Police officer, ma’am,” she said in a soft voice. Even so, the terrified woman jumped at her words.
Memories echoed across the years inside Katie’s head.
Don’t be a goddamn tease.
“Easy,” Katie said, pushing the thoughts away. “I’m here to help.”
The woman began to sob.
You liked it. The male voice in Katie’s head was full of drunken confidence. Don’t forget that.
She crouched next to the victim. “Do you need a doctor?”
The woman didn’t answer.
“I know you’re hurt,” Katie said, “but do you need medics right now? I can call them for you.”
Still sobbing, the woman shook her head.
Ma, I have to tell you something.
“Okay,” Katie said. She reached out and touched the woman on the shoulder, causing her to start. “I’m here to help you. You’re going to be all right.”
Well, at least you weren’t a virgin.
Katie took a deep breath. She hated to push victims for information too quickly, but she knew that every moment was precious. The man who did this to her was moving further away every second.
“What’s your name?” she asked the woman.
“M-M-Maureen,” she sobbed.
Katie gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Maureen, I want to help you. But I need to know how long ago this happened to you.”
2330 hours
Chisolm braked, slowing slightly before turning onto Division Street. Northgate was only a couple blocks away. He cast a quick glance into his rear-view mirror to see if his tail was still there. The twin headlights beamed back at him.
He ignored the following vehicle and pulled into the parking lot, looking for Katie. He spotted her flashing lights near The Onion Restaurant. Katie’s door and trunk lid stood open. She was nowhere to be seen.
Chisolm goosed the accelerator and cut through the lot quickly. As he approached Katie’s car, he spotted her kneeling next to a nearby vehicle. She wrapped a blanket around the shoulders of a huddled woman.
He stopped the car near hers and exited. Light drops of cold rain bit into his face, but he ignored them. As he approached, he saw that Katie was speaking in quiet tones with the victim. She glanced up at him briefly and nodded, so he held up and stood a cautious distance away. His experience with rape victims told him that every woman reacted differently. Some wanted the immediate comfort and safety of a man near them. Others wanted nothing to do with a man. He always tried to gauge the individual’s response as best he could, but it was an imperfect art.
After a few moments, Katie helped the woman to her feet and walked her toward the patrol car. Chisolm hustled ahead of them and removed Katie’s patrol bag and gear from the front seat of her cruiser. If there was one thing he knew, it was that it was a bad idea to put a woman who had just been sexually assaulted into the back seat of a patrol car. Prisoners went in the back seat. Bad guys. Not victims.
As he put Katie’s patrol bag into the trunk for her, Chisolm looked up to see the blue truck park a short distance away. The driver focused a camera on Chisolm. Chisolm stared back at him, seething.
Who the hell was this guy? A reporter? If he was a stalker, he sure wasn’t very good at it.
Chisolm closed the trunk and started walking toward the truck. The driver hurriedly put the camera aside, gave an almost playful wave and drove away, chirping his tires in the process. Chisolm tried to read the front plate of the truck, but it was too late.
Back at the car, Katie asked, “What was up with that?”
Chisolm shrugged. “Some lookie-lou.” He motioned with his head toward the front seat of her car. “More importantly, what’s up with that?”
Katie sighed. “She was raped. It sounds a little bit like the other one that the El-Tee mentioned at roll call.”
“The one over at the park?”
Katie nodded. “Yeah. The suspect did a blitz attack while she was out for a walk, not jogging. But still…”
“Hooker?”
Katie frowned. “I don’t think so. They don’t usually work this far north. Plus, she’s dressed in workout clothes. I think she’s just a citizen out for a walk.”
Chisolm nodded. “Okay. Who’s working the other rape case?”
“Detective Tower, I think.”
“I’d have radio give him a page, in case he wants to come out. You never know.”
“Right,” Katie agreed.
Chisolm glanced toward the front seat and shook his head sadly. “Terrible crime, rape.” Visions of his two tours in Vietnam pushed their way forward. He remembered the pleading eyes of a young Vietnamese girl, barely fifteen. Saw her accusing eyes. He clenched his jaw as the images blasted into his mind’s eye.
Mai. Her name was Mai.
“A guy who rapes should be castrated,” Katie said. “Simple as that.”
“Ouch.”
Katie grinned, but the expression had a grim undertone to it. “Hey, I never claimed to be Mother Teresa.”
“Not with that attitude.” Chisolm forced his own smile, but unbidden, the face of Mai flashed behind his eyes.
A North Vietnamese uniform on top of her, tearing at her clothing.
Then, later, an American uniform.
Her unforgiving eyes.
A sense of shame washed over him. He looked away from the woman in the front seat.
“I’ll take her to the hospital,” Katie said.
Chisolm nodded, hoping that his memories weren’t showing on his face. “Good. That’s good.”
SIX
Wednesday, April 17
DAY SHIFT
0818 hours
Detective Tower tapped his pen slowly on the case report as he read it. The steady rhythm helped the flow of his reading. He imagined it bothered anyone around him, but he couldn’t help it. When he read, he tapped. If someone called him on it, he made an effort to stop. Otherwise…tap, tap, tap.
The report belonged to Officer Katie MacLeod. Tower knew her only in passing and mostly by reputation. By all accounts, she was a solid troop. He pretty much ignored the bits of gossip about her sex life or orientation. When it came to the River City PD, the rumor mill never stopped. He was relatively certain that it was even worse for the women of RCPD than for the guys, at least on average. As a result, he tried not to get drawn into the gossip. The secretary in his unit, Georgina, was the queen of department gossip, but Tower wasn’t kidding himself. He knew patrol cops and detectives that were three times as bad.
Tower forced himself back to Katie’s report. It was well-written, describing her encounter with the victim, Maureen Hite. He wished he could have come out to investigate the rape himself, but he never received the call. The battery in his pager died and he’d stayed the night at Stephanie’s house, so calls to his house had gone unanswered.
According to the report, Maureen Hite had been out walking along a path through Friendship Park. Tower was familiar with the park. Mostly open field, the park was lightly wooded along the west side.
Tower read from Katie’s report, his pen tapping a steady rhythm.
The victim stated that she was northbound along the path when she heard a shuffling noise behind her. Before she could react, she was struck on the head. She thinks that it was with a fist or possibly an open hand but she was not sure. The blow stunned her. The suspect pulled her into the treed area near the sidewalk. He covered her face with some sort of towel or rag. He ordered the victim not to look at him or he would “lay the whammo on” her. He also called her several derogatory names such as “little whore” and “bitch.”
Tower shook his head, reading forward.
The suspect removed the victim’s sweat pants and underwear. He then sexually assaulted her vaginally from behind. During the act, he struck her several times on the back of the head, leaving her further stunned. She was not sure if he ejaculated or not. When he was finished, he told her that he knew who she was and that he would kill her if she reported the rape to police.