quietly. “None of this is your fault.”
“I remember,” Rebecca said softly, wanting to draw Janet back to that day. “It was cool, there had been a shower—”
Yes! It had been so sticky all weekend. I stopped the car…oh…it’s all so confusing. I can’t remember where I stopped!” Her anxiety was more pronounced now. She glanced anxiously around the room, her fingers pulling on the sheet.
“That’s okay, Janet, you’re doing a great job,” Rebecca soothed her. “You don’t have to get everything straightened out now. Just tell me anything you can remember, even if it doesn’t make sense right away.”
Catherine gave Rebecca a startled look but remained silent.
Maybe I should take her on rounds with me. She’s better at this than some of my residents
. Rebecca continued to surprise—and intrigue.
“Do you remember why you stopped? Did you see something from the road? Something that concerned you?” Rebecca probed. She knew she was leading the distraught woman a bit, but she was hoping to jog her memory.
Janet’s blue eyes were wide, her voice breathy with effort. “There was a regatta, and…I…I stopped to watch. I headed toward the water…”
When Janet seemed about to lose her train of thought, Rebecca prompted, “Did you see something there? Hear something? Can you remember anything that you saw?”
“That’s just it! I can’t make sense of what I
can
remember. There are so many colors!”
“What colors, Janet?” Rebecca asked quickly, writing the word on her pad and circling it.
What the fuck?
“I don’t know!”
“Do you remember a man? Did you see a man, or a woman and a man?”
“No.”
“Did you hear a woman scream?”
“No.” She looked at Catherine, her face pale. “I’m sorry…I can’t remember. I’m trying…”
“I know you are. It’s all right,” Catherine comforted her. “Close your eyes for a minute, and tell me anything you see—any image—any picture in your mind at all.”
“Just the number.”
Rebecca sat up straight in her chair, her face tense. “What number?”
“Ninetyseven.”
“Ninetyseven what? Were there letters with the number?”
“I can’t remember…please, I just can’t remember.”
“That’s all right, Janet,” Catherine intervened, sending Rebecca a warning glance. “You’ve been wonderful. We’ll talk again when you’re a little stronger.”
Rebecca forced down a protest. She
knew
Janet had seen something important. She could feel it. She also knew it would be futile to try to prolong the interview. Clearly Catherine felt the young woman had had enough.
The detective pocketed her notebook and stood up, angry and frustrated. She looked at the battered, terrorized woman in the bed, so pale and fragile under the thin, impersonal sheets—an innocent victim of fate and circumstance. Janet Ryan and the others were her charges now, and she intended to bring them justice.
Chapter Nine
Catherine stood with Rebecca in the hallway outside Janet’s room. She couldn’t miss the hard stillness of the detective’s face. “Not much help?”
Sighing, Rebecca passed a hand across her face, consciously trying to shake the anger from her mind. “Not much.” Letting her feelings rule was not going to help her get the job done. “There’s something there, though. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m almost positive Janet walked up on the rape,” Catherine said as they began to walk. “That would explain both her extreme reaction and the symptoms she’s displaying now.”
“Can you press her on the number…and try to find out more about the colors?”
“Sorry, not right now,” Catherine replied, still thinking about Janet’s obvious fragility. “She’s blocking because she’s not psychologically prepared to cope with what she witnessed.”
Rebecca suppressed her impatience. She had no doubt Catherine was right, but she
needed
this woman to remember. This powerlessness was eating her up inside. “Will
“I remember,” Rebecca said softly, wanting to draw Janet back to that day. “It was cool, there had been a shower—”
Yes! It had been so sticky all weekend. I stopped the car…oh…it’s all so confusing. I can’t remember where I stopped!” Her anxiety was more pronounced now. She glanced anxiously around the room, her fingers pulling on the sheet.
“That’s okay, Janet, you’re doing a great job,” Rebecca soothed her. “You don’t have to get everything straightened out now. Just tell me anything you can remember, even if it doesn’t make sense right away.”
Catherine gave Rebecca a startled look but remained silent.
Maybe I should take her on rounds with me. She’s better at this than some of my residents
. Rebecca continued to surprise—and intrigue.
“Do you remember why you stopped? Did you see something from the road? Something that concerned you?” Rebecca probed. She knew she was leading the distraught woman a bit, but she was hoping to jog her memory.
Janet’s blue eyes were wide, her voice breathy with effort. “There was a regatta, and…I…I stopped to watch. I headed toward the water…”
When Janet seemed about to lose her train of thought, Rebecca prompted, “Did you see something there? Hear something? Can you remember anything that you saw?”
“That’s just it! I can’t make sense of what I
can
remember. There are so many colors!”
“What colors, Janet?” Rebecca asked quickly, writing the word on her pad and circling it.
What the fuck?
“I don’t know!”
“Do you remember a man? Did you see a man, or a woman and a man?”
“No.”
“Did you hear a woman scream?”
“No.” She looked at Catherine, her face pale. “I’m sorry…I can’t remember. I’m trying…”
“I know you are. It’s all right,” Catherine comforted her. “Close your eyes for a minute, and tell me anything you see—any image—any picture in your mind at all.”
“Just the number.”
Rebecca sat up straight in her chair, her face tense. “What number?”
“Ninetyseven.”
“Ninetyseven what? Were there letters with the number?”
“I can’t remember…please, I just can’t remember.”
“That’s all right, Janet,” Catherine intervened, sending Rebecca a warning glance. “You’ve been wonderful. We’ll talk again when you’re a little stronger.”
Rebecca forced down a protest. She
knew
Janet had seen something important. She could feel it. She also knew it would be futile to try to prolong the interview. Clearly Catherine felt the young woman had had enough.
The detective pocketed her notebook and stood up, angry and frustrated. She looked at the battered, terrorized woman in the bed, so pale and fragile under the thin, impersonal sheets—an innocent victim of fate and circumstance. Janet Ryan and the others were her charges now, and she intended to bring them justice.
Chapter Nine
Catherine stood with Rebecca in the hallway outside Janet’s room. She couldn’t miss the hard stillness of the detective’s face. “Not much help?”
Sighing, Rebecca passed a hand across her face, consciously trying to shake the anger from her mind. “Not much.” Letting her feelings rule was not going to help her get the job done. “There’s something there, though. I’m sure of it.”
“I’m almost positive Janet walked up on the rape,” Catherine said as they began to walk. “That would explain both her extreme reaction and the symptoms she’s displaying now.”
“Can you press her on the number…and try to find out more about the colors?”
“Sorry, not right now,” Catherine replied, still thinking about Janet’s obvious fragility. “She’s blocking because she’s not psychologically prepared to cope with what she witnessed.”
Rebecca suppressed her impatience. She had no doubt Catherine was right, but she
needed
this woman to remember. This powerlessness was eating her up inside. “Will
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