Inconstant Moon - Default Font Edition (22 page)

“There was so much blood,” says Jake, “I was afraid that she might be, I thought she was . . . dead.”

“Scalp wounds bleed. The doctor said the blow to her head wasn't so bad. They were worried about exposure, she was in the cold so long, but she's warmed up, so that's good.”

Liz looks up at Elsie and asks, “Was it, was she . . . ?

Elsie nods, “Yes, she was raped. But she's alive. It's looking pretty good for her. If she'd been out there all night before anybody even looked for her, it might be a lot different.”

Liz nods miserably and Ethan hugs her more tightly.

“There is some brain swelling, so they're considering inducing a coma if she starts waking up too soon.”

Ethan says, “That doesn't sound too good Else.”

“It's precautionary, to prevent brain damage. Anyway, the cops are talking to the doc, but they want to talk to us all before we go home.”

Quentin raises his hand, “Uh, can I go first? I haven't been able to get through to my wife, she's gonna be steamed.”

Val nods. “I don't see why not.”

The door opens and a couple of uniformed officers come in. Val asks if they'll speak to Quentin first. The officer nods and Quentin follows them out into the hall.

They all cram into a small office barely big enough to house a desk and three chairs. The younger officer says, “I'm P.C. McKay. Maybe you can tell me how you came to be involved in the search tonight Mr. Bradbury?”

Back in the waiting room Elsie puts some change in the drinks machine and pulls out a bottle of Gatorade.

Jake tells Val, “I've never been interviewed by cops.”

“You'll be fine.” Val says. “Just answer their questions.”

Jake shrugs, “You know, what happened to Natasha was horrible, but in a sick way it's kind of exciting too.”

“That's normal.” smiles Val. “Look, can you and your friend come by security tomorrow? Today. I'd like to get your statements about Connor.”

“That guy's a real creep.”

“True. But I can't fire him for being a creep. That's why I need your statements about what happened tonight. The smart guys come to Christie for an education, so we're left with a pretty shallow gene pool for guards. Still, I'd rather be short handed than keep Connor. So your help would be appreciated.”

“Oh sure. And I think Q will be happy to help too.”

“Thanks.” says Val.

Jake nods, and goes back to sit with Ethan and Liz. Val keeps his position by the door, and Elsie offers him a sip of her Gatorade.

Across the room, Ethan watches the way Elsie extends the bottle cautiously to the big man, almost like she's afraid she's gonna get bitten. Ethan wishes he had his camera since the combination of the gritty institutional room under fluorescents would make an excellent backdrop to the picture they cast, kind of a beauty and the beast motif, with the guard's bloated bodybuilder physique angled against Elsie's delicate beauty. Still, Ethan has a pretty good idea which one is the beast.

“Do you think they'll let us see Natasha?” Jake asks.

“Maybe tomorrow. I hope she'll be OK.”

Ethan says “She'll be okay. She's got good friends.”

“Oh God,” Liz's eyes are wide, “Nobody told Boris.”

“Nobody told anybody.”

“But Boris, he'll be devastated.”

Ethan and Jake exchange looks. It has occurred to both of them that Boris may very well be the prime suspect.

Over by the door, Val hands the bottle back to Elsie. “So how've you been.” she asks.

Val answers guardedly, “Good.”

“Still married?”

“Very happily. Best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Too bad.”

“I'm happy, Else.”

Elsie's eyes flash as she says, “You shouldn't be happy damn it. You should be a doctor.” She stops abruptly, knowing she's spoken with more heat than intended, then glances over at the others, gratified to see that they're in their own world.

“It's over, Elsie. Just let it lay.”

Under icy control Elsie says, “Whatever.”

Val looks at her sharply, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, thank you, I'm ecstatic. Rapturous even.”

Val smiles. “I worry about you sometimes still.”

“Oh don't. You wouldn't believe how very many talented men there are in the world. I'm having the time of my life, dear.”

“I'd be happy to hear you're happy, Else.”

“I'm happy one of us will have our dream come true.”

Val shakes his head, “It wasn't ever my dream, babe. I just went along because you wanted it so much.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“That's what's true. I know you never really listened to me, but I tried to tell you that for a long time.”

The younger police officer sticks his head in to the waiting room. “Who's next?” he asks. Jake stands up with alacrity, and the officer nods, so Jake follows him down the hall to a small office adjacent to the nurse's station.

The uniformed cop's deferential posture makes it clear the guy in plain clothes seated behind the desk is the top dog. Jake assumes he's a detective. The uniformed cop takes the seat by the wall and flips open the netbook perched on the corner of the desk.

The plainclothes cop stands, extends a hand to Jake and says, “I'm Detective Wolfrom, this is P.C. McKay. And you are?”

“Jake Ellis.” Gingerly shaking Wolfrom's hand, Jake is relieved his hand is only a little crushed when the detective releases it. Wolfram gestures toward the chair and they sit.

Wolfrom asks “So, you were one of the searchers tonight, is that right?” The uniformed officer quietly transcribes the interview, typing everything into the small computer.

Jake says, “Yeah. Liz was worried because Natasha didn't show up at the car show.”

“Lets try and keep it to what you know directly, okay? What you yourself saw, heard and did.”

Jake nods. “You mean Liz asked me to help find Natasha?”

Wolfrom nods. “Right, knowledge you know yourself, not what you've heard, or inferred. How did that happen?”

“Okay, I guess it was around four thirty or so, and I was looking to see if anybody wanted to come to the computer club meeting when I ran into Liz.”

“And where was this?”

“In the library. Liz was looking for Natasha, and she was mad because Natasha didn't come to the car show. Which was weird because it was her idea, Natasha's I mean.”

“That's the Antique Car Show at the Waterfront Mall?”

“That's right. Natasha never showed up. Liz said she couldn't get Natasha on her cell either. So Liz was mad at Natasha, but she didn't know about the fight.”

Wolfrom frowns. “Fight?”

“Yeah, I didn't see it though so maybe.”

Wolfrom shakes his head, “No, no, it's okay, it can provide the background. Tell me about the fight.”

“Well, Boris and Natasha had a big fight at lunch, and she took a swing at him.”

Wolfrom fixes Jake with a look. “Son, this isn't a game.” Jake frowns, then he gets it. “Oh, the names. It's their real names, Boris Horvat and Natasha Panov. they're both photography majors.”

Mollified, Wolfrom nods. “Oh. Alright, then.” Glancing down at his notebook, he asks, “How did you get involved the search?”

“When Liz got back she was looking for Natasha, so I helped ask around but nobody'd seen Natasha since the fight. That's when Liz got worried, so she rounded us up and got us out looking, and then, well, we found her.”

Wolfrom nods. “What was the fight about?”

Jake shrugs. “They say Natasha knocked him down.”

“How did you know where to look for her?”

“After the fight people said she took off into the woods. But there were conflicting stories as to which path she took.”

“Where were you this afternoon?”

“A lecture after lunch, then I was taking pictures.”

“Where?”

“Here in the hospital. The nursery. My prof recommended me.” Jake frowns. “Wait a minute, you mean I'm a suspect?”

“Every male anywhere near this campus is a suspect.”

Jake and Elsie stumble companionably into the residence. She's far too drained to give him a hard time, and he's much too tired to care.

“Goodnight Elsie. Thanks.” says Jake, surprised at how much he really means it, as he heads down the hall.

Elsie nods and is crossing through the common room toward the interior stairs when she notices the sectional is occupied. She's started up the stairs when she realizes that it's Eric's unmistakable profile against the blue cushions. He's snoring a little, and some one's draped the afghan over him.

Hmm, she smiles, thinking, he's been waiting up for her. That's a rush. Tired or not, she decides she might like to enjoy a little Eric. He always liked her special way of waking him.

Drifting back down the stairs, loosening her blouse on the way she's a little surprised at just how excited she actually is. Maybe she misses Eric. But as she rounds the sofa she realizes that something's not right. Ah. The lump in his armpit isn't the dreadful pink afghan, it's that bitch Amelia. Guess she read that wrong. Elsie beats a retreat. Back to Plan A.

At least the batteries will be charged by now.

Detective Lewis notes the police cars blocking the university lot as she changes lanes for the hospital entrance. She finds a parking spot and hurries into the building. But when she sees her partner sitting outside a closed door, hunched over his iphone, his look of concentration tells her he's playing a video game.

“And you needed me urgently because . . . ?”

Detective Wolfrom grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I figured it was better to lob some angry birds than lose it with a suspect. I didn't think you'd mind coming back on rotation a little early. Getting a jump on it.” He stows the cell phone in its holster on his belt.

“Suspect?” Lewis asks. “What have we got?”

“Group of students arranged an unofficial search party for a missing classmate, Natasha Panov. The searchers found her in the woods behind the campus. Raped and badly beaten.”

“Not rape, sexual assault. How's the vic doing?”

“Unconscious. The doc seems to think she'll live.”

“And you have a suspect already?”

“Well. Kind of.” Wolfrom shrugs, indicating the closed door behind him. “This guy was one of the searchers, but when I ask him anything, he just won't answer.” Lewis shoots him a look. “Well, everybody's a suspect.”

“Yes, but remember the doer is usually exactly who you expect. The boyfriend or the guy she wouldn't go out with. Or come across for. Real people don't screw around with complicated plots, Wolfie. They don't plan elaborate strategies and join search parties to throw the intrepid cops off the scent like in the movies. In real life people just act on impulse 'cause they're mad or frustrated. Being in the search party doesn't make the guy more likely.”

“So why won't he answer even the simplest questions?”

Lewis shrugs. “Like every other fricken college kid he probably read that damn Boingboing article warning civilians never to talk to cops.”

“Oh. I must've missed that one.”

“You know, Wolfie, next time that Doctorow's in town lecturing at Christie I'll have a few choice words for the guy. What do you want from me?”

“I was kind of hoping you'd, I dunno, maybe bat your eyelashes at the guy or slap him around or something.”

“Yeah right.” Lewis laughs. “Seriously, though, do you have any reason for thinking he's the guy?”

“Well, no. I don't know anything about him because he won't talk.” Wolfrom shakes his head.

“You have the guy's name?”

“Pretty much name rank and serial number. Ethan Sumner, teaching assistant, third year photography, lives in residence. Vic is a photography first year, lives in the same res.”

“All right, let me take a run at him.”

Wolfrom opens the door and reveals Ethan sitting stiffly in the patient chair across the desk in the small office. He looks up sullenly when the door opens.

“Hello Mr. Sumner, I'm detective Lewis. I understand you were with the search party. Is there any information you can help us out with tonight?”

“I've helped as much as I'm able.”

“Detective Wolfrom tells me you're not answering questions.”

Ethan nods. “That's correct.”

“I don't understand that, Mr. Sumner.” Detective Lewis asks, “Don't you want to help your friend? I mean, you went out searching to help find her, and you found her. Now that she's safe we want the guy who did it. I don't understand how not talking to us helps her.”

Ethan says, “I have a right to remain silent.”

“Ah. Well, that's true enough, but just so you know, real life in Canada is just a little different than what you see on American television. You do have the right to remain silent, but we have the right to hold it against you later in court. Still, you're not charged, so I don't see why you won't talk to us.”

Ethan repeats, “I have a right to remain silent.”

“Are you saying that we should be arresting you?” Detective Wolfrom speaks from behind Ethan, where he's leaning against the door jamb. “Was it you who attacked her, then?”

Ethan turns to glare at Wolfrom. “No, it wasn't me, but I still don't have to tell you anything.”

Lewis says, “You do realize that as long as you stand mute, we can't eliminate you as a suspect.”

“You people will do what you want either way. You can either arrest me or let me go.”

Lewis shrugs. “You're not making it any easier, Mr. Sumner. I certainly hope that no one else gets raped because you chose not to share information with us.”

Ethan just glares. “Am I free to leave?”

Lewis and Wolfrom exchange glances. They don't have anything on the guy beyond belligerence. “You have always been free to go. You aren't under arrest, we've only asked you questions as a witness. We may need to speak with you again.”

“Will I get a lawyer then?”

Lewis shakes her head. “Mr. Sumner, you are free to consult with a lawyer at any time you like. However the only time the court appoints a lawyer is after your arrest if you are unable to hire your own.”

“Fine. Maybe I'll talk to you then.” Lewis notes a little yellow button affixed to the backpack as he takes it off the back of the chair and slings it over his shoulder.