Her long hair was pulled back in a French braid, her emerald eyes were red from crying.
"Lisa, are you all right?"
"I never thought they'd let him out. I'm so scared."
"Of Martin? Why?"
Lisa put her hands to her face. "He's so cruel. No one knows how cruel.
In public, he's charming. And sometimes he's just as charming with me when we're alone. He surprises me with flowers, jewelry. When he wants to, he treats me like a queen and I forget what he's really like inside.
Oh God, Betsy, I think he killed those women."
Betsy was stunned. Lisa started to cry.
"Do you want some water?" Betsy asked.
Lisa shook her head. "Just give me a moment."
They sat quietly while Lisa caught her breath. Outside, a winter sun was shining and the ground was so crisp and brittle, it seemed you could crack it into a million pieces. When Lisa spoke, her words came in a rush.
"I understand what Andrea Hammermill went through. Taking it, because you don't want anyone to know how bad it is and because there are good times and… and you love him."
Lisa sobbed. Her shoulders shook. Betsy wanted to comfort Lisa, but not as much as she wanted to learn what Darius had done to her to put her in this state, so she sat stiffly, waiting for Lisa to regain her composure.
"I do love him and I hate him and I'm scared of him," Lisa said hopelessly. "But this… If he…"
"Wife-beating is very common, Lisa. Serial murder isn't. Why do you think Martin may have killed these women?"
"It's more than beatings. There's a perverted side to… to what he does. His sexual needs… One time… This is very hard for me."
"Take your time."
"He wanted sex. We'd been to a party. I was tired. I told him. He insisted. We had an argument. No. That's not true. He never argues. He he…"
Lisa closed her eyes. Her hands were clenched in her lap. Her body was rigid. When she spoke, she kept her eyes shut.
"He told me very calmly that I would have sex with him. I was getting angrier and angrier. The way he was speaking, it's the way you talk to a very small child or someone who's retarded. It enraged me. And the more I screamed, the calmer he became.
"Finally he said, "Take off your clothes," the way you'd command a dog to roll over. I told him to go to hell. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. He hit me in the stomach. I lost my air. I was helpless.
"When I started to breathe, I looked up. Martin was smiling. He ordered me to take my clothes off again in that same voice. I shook my head. I couldn't talk yet, but I was damned if I was going to give in. He knelt down, grabbed my nipple through my blouse and squeezed. I almost blacked out from the pain. I was crying now and thrashing around on the floor.
He did it to my other nipple, and I couldn't stand it. The horrible thing was how methodical he was. There was no passion in it. And he had the tiniest smile on his face, as if he was enjoying himself immensely but didn't want anyone to know.
"I was on the verge of passing out when he stopped.
I sprawled on the floor, exhausted. I knew I couldn't fight him anymore.
The next time he ordered me to, I took off my clothes."
"Did he rape you?" Betsy asked. She felt queasy.
Lisa shook her head. "That was the worst thing. He looked at me for a moment. There was a smile of satisfaction on his face I will never forget. Then he told me that I must — always submit to him when he wanted sex and that I would be punished anytime I disobeyed him. He told me to get on all fours. I thought he was going to take me from behind.
Instead, he made me crawl across the floor like a dog.
"We have a clothes closet in our bedroom. He opened the door and made me go in, naked. He said I would have to stay there without making a sound until he let me out. He told me I would be severely punished if I made any sound."
Lisa started sobbing again.
"He kept me in the closet all weekend without food.
He put in some toilet paper and a bucket to… to use if I… I was so hungry and so scared.
"He told me that he would open the door when he was ready and I would immediately have sex with him or I would go back. When he opened the door I just crawled out and… and did anything he wanted. When he was through with me, he led me into the bathroom and bathed me, as if I was a baby. There were clothes laid out on the bed. Evening clothes. And a bracelet. It must have cost a fortune. Diamonds, rubies, gold. It was my reward for obedience. When I was dressed, he took me to a restaurant for a lavish dinner. All evening, he treated me like a queen.
"I was certain he would want me again when we got home. It's all I thought about at dinner. I had to force myself to eat, because I was nauseous thinking of what was coming but I was afraid he would do something to me if I didn't eat. Then when we got home he just went to sleep and he didn't touch me for a week."
"Did he ever do anything like that to you again?"
"No," Lisa said, hanging her head. "He didn't have to. I learned my lesson. If he said he wanted sex, I did what he wanted. And I received my rewards. And no one knew, until now, what I've been going through."
"Did you ever think of leaving him?" Betsy asked.
"He… he told me if I told anyone the things he did, or tried to run away, he would kill me. If you heard the way he said it, so calm, so detached… I knew he'd do it. I knew."
Lisa took deep breaths until she was back in control.
"There's something else," Lisa said. Betsy noticed a shopping bag lying next to Lisa's chair. Lisa leaned over and took a scrapbook out of it and placed it in her lap.
"I was certain Martin was having an affair. He never said anything and I never saw him with anyone, but I knew. One day I decided to search his things while he was at work to see if I could find proof. Instead, I found this."
Lisa tapped the cover of the scrapbook, then handed it across to Betsy.
Betsy placed the book in the center of her blotter. The cover was a faded brown with a gold trim. Betsy opened the scrapbook. On the first page, a plastic sheet, were clippings about the Hunter's Point case from the Hunter's Point paper, the New York Times, Newsday and other papers.
Betsy flipped through some of the other pages without reading the articles.
They were all about the Hunter's Point case.
"Did you ever ask Martin about this?" Betsy asked.
"No. I was too scared. I put it back. But I did do something. I hired a private detective to follow Martin and to find out about Hunter's Point."
"What's the detective's name?"
"Sam Oberhurst."
"Do you have an address and phone number where I can reach him?"
"I've got a phone number."
"No address?"
"I got his name from a friend who used him in her divorce. She gave me the number. It's an answering machine. We met at a restaurant."
"Where did you send your checks?"
"I always paid him in cash."
"Give me your friend's name and I'll have my investigator contact her if it's necessary."
"Her name is Peggy Fulton. Her divorce attorney was Gary Telford. He's the one who gave her the name.
I'd rather you didn't go to her, unless you have to."
"The lawyer's better," Betsy said as she pulled a sheet of paper out of her drawer and filled in several blanks. "This is a release of information form giving me or my investigator the — right to see Oberhurst's files."
While Lisa read the form, Betsy told Ann to have Reggie Stewart come to her office immediately. Lisa signed the release and handed it back to Betsy.
"What did Oberhurst tell you?"
"He was certain Martin was cheating, but he didn't have a name yet."
"And Hunter's Point?"
"He told me he hadn't started working on that aspect of the investigation."