Linda Warren - The Right Woman

He shifted uncomfortably. Thoughts of Sarah Welch filled a lot of his sleepless nights. He never quite understood why—but then again, he did. It was good old-fashioned guilt and it gnawed away at him, especially when she ignored him as she had a few minutes ago.

She disliked him intensely, that was all too obvious. She held him responsible for her fiancé’s death. Greg Larson, a member of his narcotics squad, had been killed while doing undercover work. Sarah had witnessed the murder and been kidnapped by the drug lord, Rudy Boyd, and forced to strip in one of his clubs. After being rescued, it had taken her a while to recover from the traumatic events.

The sad part was that Sarah should never have been put in that situation. Greg had broken the rules by exposing Sarah to danger, and that’s what bothered Daniel. He had failed in his role as leader. He had failed Greg and Sarah by not making Greg understand how dangerous the mission was and how breaking the rules, no matter how tempting, was out of the question. That was a burden he was never going to lose. The guilt of losing one of his own because he hadn’t known Greg’s secret activities—that he was in love and foolish enough to involve his girlfriend in his job.

“Goddammit, can you believe this?” Homicide Detective Russ Devers interrupted his reverie.

Daniel straightened from leaning against the wall. “What are you talking about?”

“Sarah Welch went into the girl’s room.”

“I know. I saw her.”

“Any chance of us getting to question the girl tonight just got blown to hell.”

“Don’t be so damn eager, Russ,” Daniel said. “The girl’s been through a horrendous ordeal and she needs some private time with someone that understands.”

Russ’s eyes darkened. “Whose side are you on?”

“Justice,” Daniel told him. “I’m always on the side of justice.”

“Yeah, fat chance of that happening with the victim’s number one advocate on the case.”

“Sarah’s been there, Russ. She’s knows what it’s like to be a victim, to be abused, so cut her some slack.”

Russ started to pace. “Why the hell can’t Ms. Welch understand that the faster we catch this creep, the less victims there’ll be? The first few hours after the attack are crucial. The memory is still fresh in her mind and she could give us important information. We have two girls dead and not one damn clue as to who’s doing this. We need something, Daniel, and we need it fast.”

“I’m aware of that. That’s why I’m here in the middle of the night.”

Russ stopped pacing to stare at Daniel. “The needle in the girl’s arm throws me. You can’t think of any MO that matches?”

Daniel shook his head. “The rapist gives the girl a dose of heroin and leaves the needle in her arm. We’ve never had anything like that before. Rudy Boyd was the big heroin dealer in Dallas and now he’s on death row. My team is investigating the other known heroin dealers and I’ve checked out the small-time hoods that followed Boyd, but they’re all clean.” Daniel shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “We just have to wait. We’ll get to talk to the girl.”

“Yeah, even Ms. Colder Than Ice can’t stall us forever.”

Daniel grimaced at the nickname the cops had given Sarah. It was well known that Sarah Welch fought fiercely for a victim’s protection from further trauma. This kept the police from getting vital information when they needed it, but somehow Daniel couldn’t fault her motives. He understood her reasons and he understood her. Oh, God, he had to stop thinking about Sarah Welch.

SARAH PULLED A CHAIR UP to the bed and sat facing Brooke. She was blond, blue-eyed and pretty. And so very young.

Go by the book. Go by all the techniques you’ve learned on how to handle victims like this. Sarah kept repeating the words, but she recognized this was not a textbook case. This girl needed someone who could empathize. Sarah had been there and now she’d have to share a part of herself that she hadn’t shared with anyone except her twin sister, Serena. That was the only way to help Brooke Wallace.

“Hi, Brooke,” she said. “I’m Sarah Welch, a counselor.”

No response. Not even a blink.

“I know you don’t want to talk, but I’m here if you want to.”

Nothing.

Suddenly, Brooke’s bottom lip trembled and tears rolled from her eyes. Sarah waited, trying not to stare at the bruises on Brooke’s body. Her neck was purple and blue and the skin had been broken in several places from blunt pressure. There were dark spots on her face and arms, too. Sarah realized how lucky Brooke was to be alive, but she was very aware the girl wasn’t ready to hear that.

“I wish I had some magic words to make you feel better. All I can say with certainty is that the pain will lessen as each day passes.”

Still no response.

“You might wonder how I can say that.” She swallowed, dredging up the courage to keep talking, to keep pushing, gently. “I don’t share this with many people, but I was once abused by a man and I know what you’re feeling right now. You want to die. You wish you were dead. You even pray that you will die. Death is preferable to what you’re feeling.”

Brooke’s eyes focused on Sarah. “You were raped?” Her voice was raspy.

This is what Sarah wanted—a response. Now she had to follow through. “I was kidnapped by a drug dealer who murdered my fiancé in front of me. He didn’t rape me physically, but he raped my mind and my soul.” Her breath was trapped in her chest and she had to take a moment. “He…he forced me to strip in one of his clubs and he made me strip in front of him and he…he touched me in ways a woman fears, dreads—against her will.”

“Did you feel dirty?”

“Yes.”

“I do, too. I want to take a bath to wash his smell from my body, to wash everything away. But it will still be there, won’t it?”

“Only if you let it.”

“How do I stop it?”

“By letting people, your family, help you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t see my parents.”

“Why?”

“Because this is my fault. They said I couldn’t go to the party, so I lied and said I was spending the night at my friend’s house, then my friend and I went to the party.”

“Right now your parents are more worried than angry with you. They need to see that you’re okay.” Sarah didn’t know Brooke’s parents. She was going on how most parents would react.

Brooke didn’t say anything, just plucked at the sheet with her fingers.

“This is how you start to get better—by facing life again. Your parents love you, don’t shut them out.”

“Mom said I could always talk to her about anything, but I don’t think I can talk about…about…”

“You don’t have to,” Sarah assured her. “They only need to see you.”

Dr. Daley stuck his head in the door and motioned Sarah outside. Sarah stood. “I’ll be right back.”

An anxious expression came over Brooke’s face. “You won’t leave, will you?”

“No. I’m just going to speak with the doctor.”

Brooke was responding, asking questions. That was good, very good.

Sarah met Jim outside the door. “The police are getting antsy and want to question Brooke. I told the detective it’s up to you, so you might want to speak with them.”

“Fine,” Sarah replied and walked to where Daniel, another detective and Russ Devers stood. She’d dealt with Russ before. He was a macho, take-no-prisoners type of cop who never quite understood how his brusqueness affected a traumatized person. She didn’t like him. The other man, she didn’t know. Daniel, she knew—too well.

“When can we see her?” Russ asked point-blank before she even reached them.