Ten Times Guilty (11 page)

Cooper’s voice pierced the fog.

“We’ve got another one.”

***

Siren screaming, the ambulance wove its way around cars and turned south to County General Hospital.

Inside, Tracy drifted in and out of consciousness. Sitting on the jump seat, Diana held her hand, telling her over and over everything would be all right, while a female paramedic connected an IV, applied an ice pack for the swelling, took Tracy’s vital signs and kept an eye on the monitor.

A young police officer squatted in the small space next to her. Tall and slim, Officer Dan Williams held onto the railing to keep his balance as the ambulance careened around the corner. As first officer on the scene he had recorded what little information Diana could provide.

The ambulance slowed and the siren died, as they turned another corner and the hospital’s bright lights came into view.

Diana gripped Tracy’s hand as the EMTs bailed out to open the vehicle’s back doors. ER personnel rushed to the ambulance pushing a gurney.

Officer Williams helped Diana step out. Together, they trailed the gurney through the hospital’s glass doors. When they rushed Tracy to a curtained cubicle, Diana tried to follow, but a nurse directed her to the admitting desk. Silently, looking dazed, Diana glanced around as if she were lost.

***

Tracy awakened slowly, her head throbbing, reluctant to answer the sharp voice calling her name. She closed her eyes to shut out the blinding bright light above her head.

“Tracy! Tracy, look at me,” someone said in a commanding voice.

Tracy caught a glimpse of a young doctor standing by the bed.

“Good,” he said to the nurse standing beside him, “she’s coming around.” He smiled down at Tracy. “You’re doing fine. I’m Dr. Cole. You’re in the emergency room at County General. You have some injuries but you’re going to be okay.”

Tracy’s eyelids fluttered. She drifted, floating on a cloud with no pain.

“Tracy, wake up. Wake up! I want you to answer some questions for me. Can you tell me your name? Your full name?”

She tuned him out. It felt so much better to sleep.

“Come on, Tracy, what day is it? Tell me the date today.” Dr. Cole snapped his fingers close to her face. “Tracy, wake up!”

“Leave me alone.” Irritated, she rolled on her side. The room shifted and rolled. “I’m going to throw up...”

A nurse quickly placed a kidney-shaped pan beside her head. A spasm shook Tracy’s body but nothing came up except brackish liquid. She continued to spasm, and with each dry heave, her head throbbed mercilessly. “God...” The nurse wiped her face with a cool cloth.

Nurse? Emergency room? Suddenly, she remembered.

“Ritchie!” She grabbed the nurse’s hand. “Please, my baby. Is my baby okay?”

“He’s just fine,” the nurse assured her. “Your friend, Diana, is here and I just spoke with her. She said to tell you her family sends their love and for you not to worry. They’re taking good care of your son.”

Ritchie was safe. Oh, thank you, thank you. Carefully, she eased onto her back and ran her tongue over swollen lips.

“So dry,” she croaked. “Could I...have some water?”

“In a little while,” Dr. Cole told her. “Meantime, this will help.” He nodded to the nurse, who placed a few chips of ice into Tracy’s mouth.

Finally she lay quietly, afraid that if she moved, the nausea would return. Her pulse throbbed in her head. Her chest hurt when she took a breath. Her stomach, her sides and even her back ached with dull pain.

“Can you talk to me now?” Dr. Cole asked. “Do you remember what I asked you?”

It was hard for Tracy to answer him. Her mouth was cut and swollen so it was difficult to form words.

“It hurts,” she murmured.

“I know,” Dr. Cole said gently, “but I can’t give you anything until I know the extent of your injuries, and I need your cooperation for that.”

Tracy spoke carefully, trying to ignore the haze of pain to answer their questions slowly but correctly.

“Good,” he said with satisfaction and continued his examination, checking her pupils with a bright light, then asking her to hold out both arms in front of her. “Now lift your legs, one at a time.”

Tracy lifted her left leg and grimaced.

“Okay. You took quite a beating, but we’ll find out where the injuries are located. Any pain when you move your legs?”

“Not in my legs,” she whispered.

“That’s fine,” he smiled. “I like patients like you. We’ll take care of the other problems later, but first, we have to find out the extent of your head injury. I’m going to check your head and skull, then we’ll send you on up to x-ray. Now, Tracy, can you tell me what happened?”

She turned her face away and pulled the sheet up to her chin. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“We suspect sexual assault,” the crisp, grey-haired nurse said. “If that’s what happened, there are things that need to be done, procedures to follow to protect you and your health. The social worker is on her way down,” the nurse continued, “and she’ll help you through it.”

Tracy saw a blonde woman wearing a flowing tunic pantsuit, a light green to match her eyes, step around the curtain.

“Hello, Tracy,” she said, her voice warm and gentle. “I’m Sharon Scott, and I’d like to help you.”

Tracy said nothing.

“First of all, do you have any questions?” Sharon asked.

“When can I get out of here?”

“At the moment, you’re in no condition to leave.”

Tracy turned her head away again.

“I’m going to give you some time with Sharon,” Dr. Cole told her.

“Why won’t anyone listen?” Tracy said when she and the social worker were alone together. “I told them I don’t want to talk about it. I’m okay. Just leave me alone and let me go home.”

“You’re not okay,” Sharon said. “You have to face what happened to you and deal with it, physically and emotionally. And I’m here to help.”

“You could help by getting me out of here.”

“You do not have to accept treatment,” Sharon admitted. “You are within your rights to refuse. However, there are some things you should consider before you make such a decision. For example, I understand you have a child, a son.”

Tracy stiffened. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“I would say he has a lot to do with it.”

“How?”

“Have you considered how your decision to refuse treatment could affect him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Suppose you were raped and you refused examination and treatment. Now let’s say, as a result of that rape, you acquired a venereal disease—gonorrhea, syphilis or even pubic lice. Crabs, if you will. Crabs, while a nuisance, isn’t life threatening, but syphilis can be. And there’s more. How about pregnancy. Have you consider that? And, there’s AIDS. You will need treatment for that.”

Tracy didn’t move, but she heard every word. The possibility of AIDS hadn’t even occurred to her. She felt like such a fool. Oh, if only the throbbing in her head would go away so that she could think clearly. She had decisions to make and she didn’t know which was the right one.

Her only concern since regaining consciousness had been for Ritchie. She thought of him safe and secure, sleeping in his crib, his rear-end stuck up in the air.

She didn’t realize she was weeping until a small sob escaped.

“What is it, Tracy?” Sharon asked. “Please talk to me. If it’s a boyfriend, I can talk to him. And there are support groups that can help. Or the police. They’re on their way—”

“No!” She thought of Karr. What if he knew she was in the hospital and thought she was talking to the police? She kept seeing his hands twisting, snapping chickens’ necks.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “No police! I have to get out of here, right now.”

But when she threw her legs over the side of the bed, the room whirled. Her stomach rolled. She was going to throw up. Moaning, she fell back on the bed.

What in God’s name was she going to do?

Chapter Fifteen

Reese spotted Cooper at the emergency room desk looking as unruffled as ever in a crisp ivory pantsuit. He glanced down at the rumpled trousers he’d dug out of the laundry pile. Holy Christ. He was still wearing his slippers. Worse, his left big toe was peeking out.

Where was that keeper Cooper said he needed?

The hospital smell suddenly hit him with the force of a baseball bat and his knees weakened. He grabbed onto the back of a chair and bent over, trying not to breathe. Well, that wasn’t a bright idea; he wouldn’t be of any use to anyone if he passed out from lack of oxygen. Fool. Idiot. He waited another minute or two before crossing to Cooper.

“You okay?” she asked, her gaze raking his appearance. She zeroed in on his toe and tried, but failed, to hide a smirk. 

“What do we have?” Reese demanded.

Her eyes finally met his, and she was once again the competent detective.

“Tracy Michaels, early twenties, mother of a ten-month-old baby. Married, but separated. According to her neighbor, she was walking home from the museum where she worked. Apparently someone either followed or saw her walking.” She checked the fact sheet and recited the information Diana gave Officer Williams. “The call came in at eleven-thirty-four. Suspected sexual assault. Dan Williams was First Officer on the Scene.”

“Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

“I sent him to the dining room to get something to drink,” Cooper told him. “It’s his first case and he looked kind of green. Mrs. Golden went with him.”

“When can we see Michaels?”

“After x-rays. She sustained a head injury, but she’s conscious and cognizant. They’ll let us know when we can talk to her.”

“Let’s go talk to Mrs. Golden.”

From within the depths of the hospital, Reese and Cooper entered the softly lit dining room. At that early hour, everything was closed except for the soda fountains and coffee machines which hummed softly next to the kitchen. Several coolers held packaged sandwiches, limp Jell-O and puddings. On the south end of the spacious room, potted palms lined floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking an arboretum.

A handful of people sat around tables. Reese saw a uniformed officer talking to a slim blonde woman and headed in their direction. Officer Williams saw them and stood. Cooper made the introductions.

Reese observed Mrs. Golden’s red, puffy eyes and her death-white skin. Little blue veins throbbed in her temples. Her hands twisted together on her lap. She looked as though her control was rapidly slipping.

Diana’s glazed eyes darted from one officer to the other. “I can’t believe this has happened,” she said, “not to Tracy.”

“Would you mind getting us some coffee?” Reese asked the young officer, pressing some bills into his hand. “Mrs. Golden looks like she could use some. I think we all could.”

“I’ll try to be brief, but I, we,” he corrected, glancing at Cooper, “need your help.”

Diana focused on Reese. “Whatever I can do...”

“I understand you found Mrs. Michaels. Did she say what had happened?”

“She didn’t say much of anything, just worried about Ritchie. That’s her baby. Only ten months old,” she smiled. Then started to cry.

“Mrs. Golden—” Cooper began.

“Diana, please.”

Cooper smiled, something Reese didn’t see very often. “Do you know anyone who would want to harm her? Anyone who had a grudge against her?”

Fighting to control tears, Diana shook her head. “That’s the thing. She doesn’t date, doesn’t even want to. All she’s interested in is her baby and going to school. She’s so kind and thoughtful. Everyone loves her.”

“Obviously not everyone,” Cooper said dryly.

Diana started. Reese made a mental note to talk to Cooper. Perhaps she didn’t realize how harsh her words sounded. He cringed, remembering some of the interviews he had conducted.

Officer Williams returned with a cardboard tray and four Styrofoam cups.

“It’s wonderful,” Diana said, “just what I need. Thank you,” she said to the young officer. “And thank you, Sergeant Sanders.”

While they sipped their coffee Reese gazed out the long windows at the three palm trees surrounded by miniature sego palms and decorative grasses with ivory tufts on the end. Chips of bark lay between spreading ivy on the floor. And in the corner by the doors leading to the dining room, water streamed through a pitcher held by a granite cherub and pooled at its feet. Park benches surrounded the small garden. Listening to the cascading water, Reese felt pleasure knowing that someone had made an effort to create a retreat, a peaceful oasis right in the middle of chaos.

“You look exhausted,” he said to Diana. “Why don’t you go on home? I’m sure the doctor will contact you if he needs you.”

“What?” Diana looked at Reese as if suddenly reminded who he was. Or why he was there. “Oh. I think I will,” she said, her voice weary. “They’re going to keep her a few days and I’d better call the museum to let them know what happened. I’ll call my husband to come and get me.”