“I wish. They wore all black. Clothes, shoes, gloves, ski masks. The only thing you could see were their eyes. I remember the guy who grabbed me had gray eyes. Good teeth.” She made a harrumphing sound. “But that’s it.”
Rory’s hopes deflated a little. Her attacker’s eyes were brown. Did that mean the cases weren’t connected after all?
Chance moved on to the next question. “Your partner, Carla, did she remember anything more than you?”
“I know she wouldn’t mind me talking to you. She would do about anything to see that both guys involved were caught and got what they deserved. But she had to take her mom to an appointment today, so I’ll answer for her. No.” She shook her head. “The intruder who grabbed her knocked her unconscious so quickly she didn’t have time to take in any details. It was like he didn’t care about playing with her the way my assailant did with me. I didn’t get a close look at him either before the other guy dragged me into the bedroom.” She glanced around. “To be honest, for a long time we weren’t sure we could continue living here. We tried to sell the house, but the market was so depressed it never happened. Eventually, we got past it and decided to stay. We repainted the walls. Bought new rugs and replaced about everything they may have touched.”
“Did he speak to you?” Rory asked. “Or say anything to the other man?”
She shook her head. “No. They were really careful. It was like they had their routine planned well. They came in, overtook us and did what they’d come to do. There was no discussion, no indecision. Then they were gone.”
Rory thought about that for a moment. It was basically the same as what happened at the cottage that night. She hadn’t actually considered it in those terms, and the drug had her so in and out, she wasn’t completely sure about anything. Maybe not even the color of her attacker’s eyes. But the whole invasion seemed to move effortlessly. What little talking occurred had mostly been brief and purposely distorted. Was that just the effect of the drug? Had they worn colored contacts?
She desperately wished she could recall what the shouting was about in the room where Pete was…but she’d faded out. Perhaps it had been her sweet husband begging for mercy…or arguing with the other intruder. The thought hurt her soul.
“What types of items did they take?”
The question Chance asked drew Rory back to the conversation.
“My laptop. The cash in our wallets. Our cell phones. Car keys. Since we had no house phone, we had to go to the closest neighbor’s house to call for help.”
More of that outrage crept into Rory. The intruders did that to her and Pete as well—took their phones and key fob. Bastards.
“But the most important thing they took,” Alita went on, “besides…what they took from us mentally and physically, especially me…was our gold coin collection. Carla inherited that collection from her father. It was worth north of twenty thousand dollars.”
Chance and Rory exchanged a glance. That part was certainly different from what had happened to her and Pete. Of course, they’d had nothing valuable at the cottage—except their lives.
“Was there any mention of similar cases,” Chance asked, “that you recall?”
Alita considered his question at length before deciding how to answer. “No.” She made a face. “Well, maybe. In the beginning, the detective mentioned another case over in Fort Payne thatwas very similar. Two men, dressed the same way, came into a couple’s home, robbed the place and assaulted the wife, and got out. No one was murdered or injured beyond…well, you know.” She seemed to shake herself. “How do you quantify that kind of assault?”
“I understand.” Rory wasn’t sure when she would ever be ready for sex again. A part of her understood she had to get past that barrier. So far there had been no reason. Maybe there never would be. Her gaze rested on Chance. But there were moments when she felt things with him…so maybe there was hope.
Alita went on, “Carla and I weren’t happy when they decided to designate our attack as a hate crime. That’s not what it felt like. It felt like two men doing what they wanted to do to two women. I honestly don’t think personal beliefs had anything to do with what happened. Frankly, I believe our intrusion was the same as the case in Fort Payne.” She turned to Rory. “The murder makes yours different, but there are definitely similarities.”
“I’ve been trying,” Rory said, feeling a burst of emotion at the shared travesties, “to get the police to see that there were two men in our cottage that night, and they refuse to believe me because they say there was no evidence. No fingerprints. Nothing to confirm what I said happened.”
“Well, obviously, they left no prints because they were wearing gloves,” Alita railed. “The detective on your case should be questioning the guy who assaulted me.”
Rory and Chance shared a look. She had to have heard her wrong. “They caught one of your intruders?” How could Rory not know that? Of course she hadn’t known. She hadn’t even known about the damned case because it was designated as a hate crime.
“Oh yeah,” Alita concurred. “He screwed up. Removed his condom while he was still in my bed. He took it with him, but enough semen slipped out onto the sheet for them to get DNA.”
“What about the other guy?” Chance asked.
“I guess he was too smart to do something so stupid.”
Rory was almost too stunned by the news that there had been an arrest in the case to think, but there was one other thing she had to know. “How long after your attack was he arrested?”
“Months.” She grunted a frustrated sound. “Like seven months or so. Rick Hill—that’s his name—attacked another woman and was caught in the act. With the DNA evidence from our case, he wasn’t getting away. But he never gave up his partner’s name. I think they offered him a deal, and he wouldn’t take it. The police thought it was someone close to him, but I guess they never could prove it.” She exhaled a big breath. “Anyway, we got the locks changed. Had a high-end alarm system with cameras and everything installed. Eventually, we reached the point where we could sleep again.”
Chance passed her a business card. “If you think of anything else you believe might help, please give me a call.”
“Count on it,” Alita promised.
When they were driving away, Rory turned to Chance. “It makes sense that if the guy wouldn’t rat out his partner, it had to be someone close to him, right?”
“It’s a strong possibility,” he agreed. He braked for a traffic signal. “But if it wasn’t, then it means the partner was someone he was afraid of. Someone too dangerous to risk crossing.”
