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“No, he didn’t.” Eve leaned over before Michaels could move in. “You’re here and safe and alive. He’s never going to touch you again. Moniqua, he’s never going to touch you again.”
She turned her face weakly to the pillow as the tears flowed. “I let him inside me.”
“No, you didn’t. He violated you. He forced you.”
“No, I let—”
“He forced you,” Eve repeated. “Look at me. Listen to me. He took your choice away, and he raped you. His weapon was a drug instead of a knife or his fists, but it was still a weapon. Putting rose petals on the bed doesn’t make what he did any less criminal. But you beat him. And I’m going to put him away for you. I know someone you can talk to, who’ll help you through this.”
“I never told him to stop. I didn’t want him to.”
“You’re not responsible. This wasn’t about sex. Rape never is. This was about him controlling you. You couldn’t stop him last night, but you can now. Don’t let him control you now.”
“He raped me, and then he left me to die. I want him to pay for making me feel like this.”
“Leave that part to me.”
Eve felt slightly ill when she stepped out again. It was brutal, always brutal, for her to interview rape victims. To look at them and see herself.
She took a moment, bracing a hand against the outer doors, waiting to settle again.
“Lieutenant?”
She straightened, turned to Michaels.
“You did very well with her. I’d expected you to push for more detail.”
“I will, next time. I’ve got to dig out my rubber hose. Can’t recall where I left it.”
He offered a slow, half smile. “I didn’t expect her to live. Medically, her chances were slim to none. But that’s one of the rewards of my profession. The small miracles. She still has a rough road ahead, physically and emotionally.”
“You can contact Dr. Charlotte Mira.”
Impressed, he angled his head. “Dr. Mira?”
“If she can’t treat Moniqua personally, she’ll give the case to the best rape therapist available. You guys work on giving her back her physical and emotional health. I’ll work on giving her justice.”
She pushed through the doors, signalled to Peabody, and kept going. She wanted out of the hospital almost as much as she wanted to breathe.
“Sir.” Peabody jogged to keep pace. “Everything all right?”
“She’s alive, she’s talking, and she’s given us the bastard’s first name. Kevin.”
“Solid. But I was talking about you. You look a little whipped.”
“I’m fine. I just hate fucking hospitals,” she muttered. “Maintain the guard on Moniqua, and the checks on her condition. Make a note to contact Mira and ask her to consult with Michaels over her therapy.”
“I didn’t think Mira took private consults.”
“Just make a note of it, Peabody.” She kept her breathing shallow until she shoved through the hospital doors and strode outside. “Christ! How do people stand being in those places? I’ve got a personal call to make. Step aside, will you? Call Moniqua’s status into the commander and tell him my report will be forthcoming.”
“Yes, sir. There’s some benches just over there. Why don’t you make that call sitting down?” Because you’re white as a sheet, she wanted to say. But knew better.
Eve walked over to sit in a little area of green the city planners liked to call microparks. The trio of dwarf trees and scatter of flowers were jammed into a narrow island between parking lots. But she supposed it was the thought that counted.
Still, she wished they’d thought to plant something with fragrance. She wanted the stench of hospital out of her system.
She wasn’t sure where to tag Roarke. She tried his personal line first, was switched to voice mail so she disconnected. She put the next through to his midtown offices and hit on his admin.
