Read Online Deadly Deeds by Kathryn Patterson - Free Book Online

we’d been in the doctor’s office.
    ‘ I’ve had her transferred to a supportive environment and administered a saline solution. Within hours her temperature rose, her skin tone improved, and her mental orientation was more or less restored. Two hours later she slipped into a semi-coma, most likely due to post-traumatic shock.’
    ‘ What about rape?’ Frank asked for both of us.
    ‘ Ah, I was going to get to that. We found bruising, scratching and localised swelling around the external genitals. Dried blood was located in the anus. Examination of the vagina with a speculum resulted in the discovery of a copious amount of a substance consistent with appearance and viscosity of semen. The substance was removed from around the neck of the cervix. Severe scratches were found in the anterior wall of the vagina.’
    ‘ So she was raped?’ Frank asked again impatiently.
    ‘ I’m getting there. The opening of her anus appeared patulous and cut in several places. I examined the interior of the anus with a speculum and came up with a squash ball lying in the cavity of the rectum.’
    ‘ A what?’ I muttered, wondering if I had heard correctly.
    ‘ A squash ball. You know, a hard rubber ball, the type used to play that game where the players hit the ball against a wall.’
    I knew what a squash ball was. I just couldn’t understand what it was doing inside Teresa Wilson.
    Dr Larousse seemed somehow satisfied that he had shocked us. A slight grin on his face made me wonder if he was a touch sadistic.
    ‘ The high-friction surface of the squash ball,’ he continued, ‘caused considerable tissue damage to the anus and the walls of the lower tract of the large bowel. We’ll have to remove the ball by surgery under general anaesthetic.’
    ‘ Okay, Doctor,’ Frank said, ‘by-passing any more technical details, what is your opinion on what happened to Mrs Wilson?’
    Dr Larousse looked straight at us. ‘The preliminary assessment of Mrs Wilson clearly indicates to me that she’s been beaten and subjected to an unusual level of physical abuse, and it would appear rape has taken place.’
    Both Frank and I scribbled notes in our pad books.
    ‘ You don’t mind if we get a copy of the preliminary report?’ I asked without lifting my eyes from my notes.
    ‘ I’ll have two sets photocopied by the time you finish interrogating Mrs Wilson.’
    We thanked Dr Larousse for his time as he escorted us out of his office.
     
    When Frank Moore and I arrived in Teresa Wilson’s room, at the Intensive Care Unit Ward, on the third floor of the building, we brought in a bunch of pink carnations from a shop downstairs, next to the main entrance of the hospital.
    Coming face to face with a victim was never easy, no matter how many times we went through the process. Repetition was supposed to make you stronger, but some things were never easy, no matter how many times you dealt with them.
    Every time I encountered a crime victim, I was conscious I was dealing with a human being. Ironically, people who caused the damage in the first place usually never saw other people as anything more than objects. This was probably the main difference between them and us. They had lost touch with their inner feelings. They were incapable of sympathy for anyone but themselves. Men who committed atrocities, like the savage beating and raping of Teresa Wilson, were very often self-centred and beyond redemption.
    After years of studying the criminal mind, years of interrogating hundreds of criminals and repeat offenders, I was convinced some men could never be rehabilitated, no matter how many years they had been institutionalised, how much medical and psychological therapy they’d received, or how willing they were to better themselves. Their sociopathic attributes were eternally entwined in their general make-up. Recent US research even suggested that their DNA structure could in fact have been altered over a time-period, supporting the long-time