it’s important to move as quickly as possible when something like this does occur. I know that it’s late and that you’re probably upset, but I’m hoping that you can help me out.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s good. That’s just fine. Now, I understand that you saw the victim today?”
“Her name is Grace.”
He smiled again, and this one had an edge on it. “Of course,” he said. “What did you and Grace talk about? How was her state of mind?”
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said. “I don’t know her anymore. It’s been a long time. She never responded to my letters.”
Robin spoke. “You wrote to her?”
I could feel the sudden hurt in her voice.
You wrote to her, but not to me.
I turned to Robin. “I wrote to her because she was too young to understand my reasons for leaving. I needed her to understand why I was no longer there for her.”
“Just tell me about today,” Grantham said. “Tell me the rest of it.”
I pictured Grace: the heat of her skin beneath my palm, the fierce resentment, the undertones of something more. I knew what this cop was looking for. He had his story from Grace and wanted corroboration; to hell with objectivity. Part of me wanted to give it to him. Why? Because screw it.
“I rubbed lotion on her back. She kissed me. She said that she hates me.” I looked Grantham in the eye. “She ran away.”
“Did you chase her?” Grantham asked.
“It wasn’t that kind of running away.”
“It doesn’t sound like the kind of reunion most would expect, either.”
My voice came low and hard. “Thinking that I raped Grace Shepherd is like saying I raped my own daughter.”
Grantham did not blink. “Yet, daughters are raped with great consistency by their fathers, Mr. Chase.”
I knew that he was right. “It’s not like it sounds,” I said. “She was angry at me.”
“Why?” Grantham asked.
“Because I left her. She was making a point.”
“What else?”
“She said that she had lots of boyfriends. She wanted me to know that. She wanted me to hurt, too, I think.”
“Are you saying that she’s promiscuous?” Grantham asked.
“I’m not saying anything like that. How would I know something like that?”
“She told you.”
“She also kissed me. She was hurt. She was lashing out. I was her family and I left her when she was fifteen years old.”
“She’s not your daughter, Mr. Chase.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Grantham looked at Robin, then back at me. He clasped his hands in front of his waist. “Very well. Go on.”
“She was wearing a white bikini and sunglasses. Nothing else. She was wet, just out of the river. When she ran away, she ran south along the bank. There’s a trail that’s been there forever. It leads to Dolf’s house, about a mile down.”
“Did you assault Ms. Shepherd?”
“I did not.”
Grantham pursed his lips. “Okay, Mr. Chase. That’ll do for now. We’ll speak again later.”
“Am I a suspect?” I asked.
“I rarely speculate on such things this early in an investigation. However, Detective Alexander has stated, quite emphatically, that she does not believe you capable.” He paused, looked at Alexander, and I saw flakes of dried skin on his glasses. “Of course, I have to consider the fact that you and Detective Alexander apparently have some kind of relationship. That complicates matters. We’ll have a better idea about all of this once we can speak to the victim”—he caught himself—“to Grace.”
“When will that be?” I asked.
“Just waiting for the doctor to clear it.” Grantham’s cell phone chirped and he looked at the caller ID. “I need to get this.” He answered the phone and walked away. Robin moved next to me, yet I found it hard to look at her. It was like she had two faces: the one I saw above me in the half-light of her bedroom and the one I’d seen most recently, the cop.
“I shouldn’t have tested you,” she said.
“No.”
“I
“I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s good. That’s just fine. Now, I understand that you saw the victim today?”
“Her name is Grace.”
He smiled again, and this one had an edge on it. “Of course,” he said. “What did you and Grace talk about? How was her state of mind?”
“I don’t know how to answer that,” I said. “I don’t know her anymore. It’s been a long time. She never responded to my letters.”
Robin spoke. “You wrote to her?”
I could feel the sudden hurt in her voice.
You wrote to her, but not to me.
I turned to Robin. “I wrote to her because she was too young to understand my reasons for leaving. I needed her to understand why I was no longer there for her.”
“Just tell me about today,” Grantham said. “Tell me the rest of it.”
I pictured Grace: the heat of her skin beneath my palm, the fierce resentment, the undertones of something more. I knew what this cop was looking for. He had his story from Grace and wanted corroboration; to hell with objectivity. Part of me wanted to give it to him. Why? Because screw it.
“I rubbed lotion on her back. She kissed me. She said that she hates me.” I looked Grantham in the eye. “She ran away.”
“Did you chase her?” Grantham asked.
“It wasn’t that kind of running away.”
“It doesn’t sound like the kind of reunion most would expect, either.”
My voice came low and hard. “Thinking that I raped Grace Shepherd is like saying I raped my own daughter.”
Grantham did not blink. “Yet, daughters are raped with great consistency by their fathers, Mr. Chase.”
I knew that he was right. “It’s not like it sounds,” I said. “She was angry at me.”
“Why?” Grantham asked.
“Because I left her. She was making a point.”
“What else?”
“She said that she had lots of boyfriends. She wanted me to know that. She wanted me to hurt, too, I think.”
“Are you saying that she’s promiscuous?” Grantham asked.
“I’m not saying anything like that. How would I know something like that?”
“She told you.”
“She also kissed me. She was hurt. She was lashing out. I was her family and I left her when she was fifteen years old.”
“She’s not your daughter, Mr. Chase.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Grantham looked at Robin, then back at me. He clasped his hands in front of his waist. “Very well. Go on.”
“She was wearing a white bikini and sunglasses. Nothing else. She was wet, just out of the river. When she ran away, she ran south along the bank. There’s a trail that’s been there forever. It leads to Dolf’s house, about a mile down.”
“Did you assault Ms. Shepherd?”
“I did not.”
Grantham pursed his lips. “Okay, Mr. Chase. That’ll do for now. We’ll speak again later.”
“Am I a suspect?” I asked.
“I rarely speculate on such things this early in an investigation. However, Detective Alexander has stated, quite emphatically, that she does not believe you capable.” He paused, looked at Alexander, and I saw flakes of dried skin on his glasses. “Of course, I have to consider the fact that you and Detective Alexander apparently have some kind of relationship. That complicates matters. We’ll have a better idea about all of this once we can speak to the victim”—he caught himself—“to Grace.”
“When will that be?” I asked.
“Just waiting for the doctor to clear it.” Grantham’s cell phone chirped and he looked at the caller ID. “I need to get this.” He answered the phone and walked away. Robin moved next to me, yet I found it hard to look at her. It was like she had two faces: the one I saw above me in the half-light of her bedroom and the one I’d seen most recently, the cop.
“I shouldn’t have tested you,” she said.
“No.”
“I
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