“No.”
“Then you must have been in the room when your friend was having sex with her,” Bartholemew said. “Or how else would you have heard her consent?”
“I wasn't in the room, dude,” Moss said. “But neither were you. Maybe I didn't hear her say yes, but you didn't hear her say no, either.”
Bartholemew turned off the tape recorder. “Thanks for coming in.”
“We're done?” Moss said, surprised. “That's it?”
“That's it.” The detective took a card out of his pocket and handed it to Moss. “If you happen to think of anything else you need to tell me, just call.”
“Bartholemew,” Moss read aloud. “I used to have a babysitter named Holly Bartholemew. I think I was around nine or ten.”
“My daughter.”
“No kidding? Does she still live around here?” Mike hesitated. “Not anymore.”
Moss stuffed the business card in his pocket. “Tell her I said hi the next time you see her.” He gave the detective a half wave and then walked out.
“I will,” Mike said, as his voice unraveled like lace. ^|
* * *
Daniel opened the door to find Janice, the sexual assault advocate, on the other side. “Oh, I didn't know Trixie made plans to see you.”
“She didn't,” Janice replied. “Can I speak to you and Laura for a second?”
“Lauras at the college,” he said, just as Trixie poked her head over the railing from upstairs. Before, Trixie would not have hung back like that; she would have bounded down like lightning, certain that the visitor was for her.
“Trixie,” Janice said, spotting her. “I need to tell you something you're not going to like.”
Trixie came downstairs, sidling up beside Daniel, the way she used to do when she was tiny and saw something frightening.
“The defense attorney representing Jason Underhill has subpoenaed the records of my conversations with Trixie.” Daniel shook his head. 'I don't understand. Isn't that a violation
of privacy?'
“Only when you're talking about the defendant. Unfortunately, if you're the victim of a crime, it's a different story. You can wind up with your diary as evidence, or the transcripts of your psychiatric sessions.” She looked at Trixie. “Or your discussions with a rape crisis counselor.”
Daniel had no idea what went on during the times Janice had met with Trixie, but beside him, his daughter was shaking. “You can't turn over the records,” she said.
“If we don't, our director will be sent to jail,” Janice explained.
“I'll do it,” Daniel said. “I'll go to jail in her place.”
“The court won't accept that. Believe me, you're not the first father to volunteer.”
You're not the first. Daniel slowly put the words together.
“This happened before?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Janice admitted.
“You said what I told you didn't leave that room!” Trixie cried. “You said you'd help me. How is this supposed to help me?” As Trixie flew up the stairs, Janice started after her. “Let me go talk to her.”
Daniel stepped forward, blocking her way. “Thanks,” he said. But I think you've done enough.'
* * *
The law says that Jason Underhill has the right to mount a defense, Detective Bartholemew explained on the phone. The law says that a victim's credibility can be questioned. And with all due respect, he added, your daughter already has some credibility issues.
She was involved with this boy beforehand.
She was drinking.
She's made some inconsistent statements.
Daniel's response: Like what?
Now that he'd finished talking to the detective, Daniel felt numb. He walked upstairs and opened Trixie's bedroom door. She lay on her bed, facing away from him.
The Tenth Circle
“Trixie,” he said as evenly as he could. “Were you really a virgin?”
She went still. “What, now you don't believe me either?”
