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“He thinks he can’t be tried if he rapes you. He thinks it’s double jeopardy.”
“How do you know what he thinks?”
“He was asking my boss hypothetical questions.”
“It isn’t double jeopardy, is it?”
“No, that’s not how it works.”
“Good. Thanks for warning me.”
She turned and started back into the house.
“Hold on,” I said. “I’m not going to abandon you. I can take you to a hotel or a friend’s house… I can take you home to my house if you have nowhere else to go.”
She looked at me for a moment, then said, “Come in for a minute.”
I followed her into the small house, the dogs barking as I walked in. Annoying, but I could see how they made her feel safer. She went directly to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small pistol. I couldn’t see what kind. She set it on the counter.
“There’s another one in the nightstand next to my bed.”
“Thank you for not pointing it at me,” I said.
“I’ve had training. A lot of training. Before I was raped, I believed in strict gun control. Actually, I still do. I wasn’t going to have guns in the house without understanding proper safety protocols.”
“You don’t ever get depressed?”
“I’m not going to all this trouble protecting myself only to turn around and commit suicide.”
I nodded.
“Let me show you the perimeter.” She turned and walked to the back door. I followed. Once outside, we were in a lovely, terraced backyard, which was carefully landscaped and well taken care of. There was a six-foot, cedar privacy fence around the yard. Standing there on the patio off the backdoor, I noticed that the planting didn’t begin for nearly two feet from the fence.
Joanne led me up the next two terraces. We were about twenty feet from the back fence.
“My neighbors behind me, the Smiths, have chickens. They make a tremendous amount of noise when anyone is in the yard.”
“And your neighbors on either side?”
“No chickens, but fences and lights with motion detectors.” She studied me a moment. She obviously knew this wasn’t as much security as I would have liked. She nodded her head toward the fence saying, “And then there’s this.”
We walked over near the fence on the south side of her property. She pointed to the top of the fence. About an inch below the top there were three lines of barbed wire. They were placed so that there was a barb every inch or so. I leaned in and looked down the side of the property. The fence went all the way to the street where it met the retaining wall, the one where I’d noticed the broken glass painted into the top.
“Be careful,” she said, looking down at the foot of the fence. There was a tripwire that ran the length of the fence.
I wondered for a moment if it would open up a giant pit under my feet with spikes sticking upward. “What happens if it’s tripped?”
“All my security lights pop on, alarms go off, the security company is called, and an armed guard is here in five minutes or less. I’d let you trip it just to see, but false alarms are a hundred and twenty-five dollars. I had a possum for a while; cost me a fortune.”
“You’ve got a pretty good system,” I said, to reassure her.
Of course, if Stu Whatley had walked by the house in daylight, and stood on his tippy toes to see the broken glass, he’d know to bring something—a thick rug, a large piece of cardboard—to put over the retaining wall in the front. Once he was over that, he’d be on the porch in thirty-seconds. I doubt that it was easy to get through Joanne’s front door or window, but I also didn’t think it was impossible. I’d already decided I’d be sitting in my rental all night in front of her house.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure you were prepared. It seems that you are.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the heads up.”
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