“For what?” I asked.
“This is not going to be a good scene. Happened four months ago and the victim — Gwyneth — is not doing well physically or mentally. She’s on a ventilator.”
“Okay.”
“And let me handle the introductions. They don’t know about you yet. Don’t be obvious.”
“About what?”
“That you’re there for a story. Maybe it would be better if I took notes.”
“I could just record it.”
“There is nothing to record. She can’t speak.”
I nodded. The elevator moved slowly. There were only four levels.
“I’m here for more than the story,” I said to set the record straight.
“Really?” Rachel said. “When we talked earlier today it felt like that’s all you cared about.”
The elevator door opened and she exited before I could defend myself on that.
We walked down a hallway and Rachel gently knocked on the door to room 309. We waited and a man opened the door and emerged into the hallway. He looked to be about sixty years old with a worn expression on his face. He pulled the door closed behind him.
“Mr. Rice?” Rachel asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said. “You’re Rachel?”
“Yes, we spoke on the phone. Thank you for allowing me to visit. As I said, I am FBI retired but still—”
“You look too young to be retired.”
“Well, I still keep my hand in and work with the bureau on occasion. Like with this case. And I wanted to introduce you to Jack McEvoy. He works for FairWarning and is the journalist who first connected all the cases and brought the investigation to the bureau.”
I put my hand out and Mr. Rice and I shook.
“Good to meet you, Jack,” Rice said. “I wish somebody like you was there four months ago and could have warned Gwynnie about this guy. Anyway, come on in. I told her she was having company and finally something is being done. I have to warn you, this is going to go slow. She has a screen and something called a mouth-stick stylus that allows her to communicate.”
“No problem,” I said.
“It’s kind of amazing,” Rice said. “It turns her teeth and the roof of her mouth into a keyboard. And each day she gets more proficient at it. Anyway, she does get tired and she’ll shut down at some point. But let’s see what we can get.”
“Thank you,” Rachel said.
“One more thing,” Rice said. “This kid has been through hell and back. This is not going to be easy. I told her she didn’t have to do it but she wants to. She wants to get this evil man and she’s hoping you can do it. But at the same time she’s fragile. Go easy is what I’m saying, okay?”
“We understand,” Rachel said.
“Of course,” I added.
With that, Rice opened the door and went back inside the room. I looked at Rachel and nodded her in first as we followed.
The room was dimly lit by a soft spotlight over a hospital bed with railings. Gwyneth Rice was raised at a 45-degree angle on the bed and flanked by equipment and tubes that monitored her, breathed for her, fed her, and took her bodily wastes away. Her head was held steady by a framework that looked like scaffolding and appeared to be screwed into her skull in at least two points. Altogether it was a horrible tableau and my first instinct was to look away, but I knew that she might register my reflex for what it was and refuse the interview before it started. So I looked at her straight on and smiled and nodded as I entered the room.
There was a metal arm that was attached to the headboard and extended around and in front of Gwyneth at eye level. Attached to it were two small back-to-back flat screens that allowed her to see one, and her audience the other.
The first thing that Gwyneth’s father did was take a folded paper towel off a bedside table and dab the corners of her mouth where saliva had accrued. I could see a very thin glassine wire extending from the right side of her mouth, down her cheek, and into the nest of wires and tubes attached to the electronic assembly.
Her father put the paper towel aside and introduced us.
“Gwynnie, this is Rachel Walling, who I told you about,” he said. “She’s the one working with the FBI on your case and on those other girls. And this is Jack. Jack’s the writer who discovered this whole thing and called Rachel and the FBI. They have some questions about the man who did this, and you answer what you want, okay? No pressure at all.”
I could see Gwyneth work her jaw and tongue inside her mouth. Then the letters OK appeared on the screen facing us.
This is how it would work.
Rachel moved to the side of the bed and Mr. Rice brought her a chair to sit down on.
“Gwyneth, I know this may be very difficult for you and we really appreciate your willingness to help,” she began. “I think it’s best if the questions just come from me and you try to answer them as best as you can. And if there is anything I ask that you just don’t want to answer, that’s absolutely okay.”
OK
This left me as a spectator on my own story but I was willing to let Rachel start out. If I thought there was something that needed to be asked, I would tap her on the shoulder and we could conference outside the room.
“I want to start by saying we are very sorry for what you’ve been through,” Rachel said. “The man who did this is evil and we are doing everything we can to find and stop him. Your help will be extremely valuable. The Pasadena Police seemed to deal with this when it happened as an isolated case. We now believe one man has hurt several women like you and so what I want to do today is concentrate on him. Who he is, how he chose you, things of that nature. It will help us build a profile of him that will identify him. So, some of my questions might seem odd to you. But there is a purpose to them. Is that okay, Gwyneth?”
YES
Rachel nodded and then glanced back at me and Mr. Rice to see if we had anything to add. We didn’t. She turned back to Gwyneth.
“Okay, then let’s start. It’s very important that we learn how this offender chose his victims. We have one theory and I want to ask about that now. Have you in the past done any sort of DNA hereditary or medical analysis?”
I saw Gwyneth’s jaw start moving. It almost looked like she was eating something. The letters always came out in all caps and as the interview progressed the only punctuation seemed to come through automatic spell-check.
YES
I saw Mr. Rice raise his head in surprise. He didn’t know about his daughter’s looking into her DNA. I wondered if it would have been a sore subject within the family.
“Which company did you use?” Rachel asked.
GT23
To me that all but confirmed her as a victim of the Shrike. But she had somehow lived to tell about it, even if it was a life now severely circumscribed by her injuries.
“Okay, so let’s go to the night this happened,” Rachel said. “You were still in extremely critical condition when the initial investigation was carried out. The detectives were mostly trying to work with some grainy video footage from outside the bar. Once you were able to communicate, another detective was on the case who didn’t appear to ask you very many questions about who—”
HE WAS AFRAID
“‘He was afraid,’” Rachel read off the screen. “Who was afraid? You mean the detective?”
YES. HE DIDN’T WANT TO BE HERE TO SEE ME
“Well, we’re not afraid, Gwyneth,” Rachel said. “I assure you of that. We are going to find the man who did this to you and he will pay for his crimes.”
DON’T TAKE HIM ALIVE