It’s hard to shame a woman for heckling the man who raped her as a child. “Did he ever speak to you?” I ask.
Walt goes down on one knee, his forearm braced on his thigh. He’s obviously struggling to catch his breath. His face is pale, and beads of sweat slip down his forehead. I drop into a crouch as if to catch my breath as well, but mostly I just want to be at his level so I can better assess his condition.
“He wouldn’t even look at me,” Melanie says, drawing my attention back to her. “No matter how often I showed up, he tried to ignore me. He pushed his cart around, reaching for whatever was on his list. Eventually he couldn’t take it anymore, and he abandoned his cart and left. I never followed him outside. I wasn’t quite that brave.”
“Did you ever see him with anyone?”
She shakes her head at Walt’s question. “He was always alone.”
“Did you notice anyone else following him or watching him?” Walt pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and scrubs it over his face. If possible, it’s even whiter than it was before.
I start to ask him if he’s okay but figure I better wait until we’re finished here. Men don’t like to have their weaknesses pointed out. Not even smart guys like Walt.
Melanie appears to consider his question. “I can’t remember anyone, but I was always so angry and focused on him that I can’t be sure I was really looking, either.”
“Did he ever show up at your house?” I ask. “Try to turn the tables on you?”
She shakes her head. “I thought about that later, after I’d already harassed him a couple of times. But thank God he never came around.”
“Are you certain he recognized you?” Walt asks.
Good point. If he thought she was someone else, he might have gone after the wrong person.
“I told him who I was.” She raises her chin in defiance. “I wanted him to know I was no longer afraid of him.”
“This,” I say, “was your part?” The startled look on her face warns she wasn’t aware we knew about their little plan. “We’d like you to tell us about when and how you got together with the others to make this plan.” Before she can respond, I explain, “We already have statements from other victims. We know there was a plan.” This might be a slight exaggeration, but if it works, it’s worth it.
She exhales a big breath. Almost looks relieved. “As soon as the news broke about his release, we got together. Janie Hyatt set up the meeting. We were all there.” A shrug and then she goes on. “Except for the ones who moved away or are dead or in prison.”
“Why don’t you list the names just so we’re clear,” Walt suggests, his voice hoarse. He still looks as if he’s struggling for air.
I pull out my phone. This is a bit unorthodox, but I set it to record. “We’ll record this as part of your official statement.” Not exactly by the book. I state her name as well as ours, and the time and date for the recording.
“Janie Hyatt, Dana Reeves, Patricia Shelby, Andrea Donnelly, Shelley Martin, and I met at that steakhouse over on Eighth to discuss the news.”
Walt and I exchange a look. No Sanchez?
“What did you decide?” I ask.
“We decided unanimously that we wanted to do something. Something to see that real justice was done.”
As much as I hate to do this, I can’t ignore where this is going. “Ms. Hardeman, before you say more, it would be better if I explain your rights.”
“I know my rights.” She shakes her head. “I don’t need you to explain them to me. I waive my rights or whatever.”
I look to Walt and he nods. “All right, go on then.”
“A week later we met again. There was a list of steps that needed to be taken. Surveil him. Harass him. Make his work life miserable. Stuff like that. The final step was to make him disappear. All the steps were written down, folded up, and put into a basket. Then we all drew one. We were to look at it, remember it, and eat the paper. No one was ever to tell who got what step.”
Again I consider this is all so very spy novelish.
“I notice,” Walt says, “you didn’t mention Mario Sanchez.”
She nods. “He wasn’t at the first meeting, but he was at the second.”
“He drew from the basket,” I inquire, “just like the rest of you?”
She nods. “But I can’t tell you what part he got.”
