entrenched in this investigation.”
“I think my compulsion is actually a bit more otherworldly,” I offered, not entirely sure where she was headed.
Something didn’t seem quite right, but I couldn’t pin it down. I wasn’t sure if it was her words or maybe just the clinical way in which she presented them. All I could say for sure was that she didn’t sound like the same Helen Storm who had just been speaking to us moments ago.
“While I do not doubt that fact in the least, I also do not want you to lose sight of the here and now. You should not allow your strength to become your vulnerability.”
“How do you mean?”
“For you, that remains to be seen, Rowan, and will be based solely on the decisions you make.”
“Is there something that I’m missing here, Helen?” I had no idea what she was talking about. “Pardon me for saying so, but you don’t sound quite like yourself.”
“You are my patient and I am simply expressing my concern for your well being, Rowan.”
It was my turn to ask, “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I am sure.”
“Well, I have to be honest. I’m not so certain that I’m understanding what you mean.”
“You will,” she stated without emotion. “Though it may sound cliche, simply bear in mind that one should sometimes follow the road less traveled.”
“Okay.” I paused for an awkward moment, not knowing what I should say. “So anything else?”
“No. We will talk about it more during our next session.”
“Okay,” I said again and physically shrugged out of reflex. “Did you need to speak with Ben?”
“No,” she returned. “Just tell him that I am looking forward to this evening. Bye.”
I barely managed to get my own parting words out before the line disconnected at her end, leaving me to feel thoroughly confused by the entire conversation.
“Everything okay?” Ben asked me once I’d rejoined him at his desk.
“Yeah, I think so. Where’s Charlee?”
“She got called back down ta’ Vice. Ya’ sure everything’s okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. So what happens now that my theory might be a non-theory?”
“Depends. We still don’t have a suspect, whether your theory is right or not.”
“But the connection with Paige Lawson could lead to something, couldn’t it?”
“Possible connection,” he corrected me. “I’ll admit, a very strong possibility, yeah, but we don’t have a smokin’ gun.”
“Maybe not, but there’s definitely something there.”
“Like I told ya’, I’m not sayin’ there isn’t.”
“Good, because I know I’m right about this.”
“You’re just fuckin’ dyin’ to say it, aren’t ya?”
“Say what?”
“I told ya’ so.”
“Yeah, maybe a little.”
“Well, you might wanna wait until we’ve got more ta’ go on. Who knows, we…”
For the second time in the past hour, the phone on his desk demanded attention and brought our conversation to an unceremonious halt.
“Homicide, Storm.” My friend answered the device with an annoyed clip in his voice, but then his tone quickly changed. “Oh, hey, what’s up?”
Since he was now focused on the caller I began to drift. Instead of paying attention to his “uh-huhs” and “yeahs,” I was concentrating instead on a blank spot occupying the wall across the room. My brain was still reeling a bit as I tried to figure out the strange conversation I’d just had with Helen Storm. It was when he stopped grunting into the phone that the silence prompted me to look up and find him staring at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I’d call ya’ wrong, but ya’ sure as hell ain’t right, Svengali.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That was Chuck on the phone. Apparently the reason she got called back down ta’ Vice was because one of the rape victims showed up ta’ tell her somethin’ she suddenly remembered.”
He just continued to stare at me then after a moment began to shake his head.
“What?”
“Jeezus…Guess I gotta say it. Accordin’ ta’ Chuck, this woman remembers somethin’ about a prom dress.”
Even with my attention being less than par, it only took a split second for me to make the connection. I nodded and asked, “So can I say ‘I told you so’ now?”
“Shut up.”
CHAPTER 19
“So are you going to talk to her?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Ben nodded. “McLaughlin said we could meet in one of the interview rooms down there.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“I don’t, but she might. I actually wouldn’t mind havin’ ya’ where I can keep an eye on ya’, but you need to remember this woman was raped. She might not be all that keen on a coupl’a men descendin’ on ‘er all of a sudden.”
What my friend said made perfect sense. What didn’t make sense was the fact that I hadn’t considered that fact from the very beginning myself. Normally, I was far more sensitive to the feelings of those around me, and the circumstances arising from a situation like this should have been painfully obvious. At this particular moment, however, I seemed to be oblivious to the concept of empathy.
My brain had pretty much been a jigsaw puzzle for the past two months, but instead of drawing closer to completion each day, entropy had been taking its toll. In some ways it even felt like a cosmic basket of kittens had been stealing pieces here and there when I wasn’t looking.
Now, for a change, the forces of nature seemed to be acting in my favor. The smothering cocoon that had been spun around me by those wanting to keep me safe was giving way, whether they were ready for it to do so or not. Vindication was just around the corner, and the very fact that it was so close imbued me with confidence.
Things were finally starting to come together, and I was determined that I would not be left out. I wasn’t about to miss any chance I had of regaining my stability. I wanted my life back, and something told me that an important piece of it was in the possession of this victim.
“Okay, so what about those one way mirror things?” I suggested.
“I wanna ask ‘er questions, not spy on ‘er,” my friend told me as he gathered up his notebook and shrugged on his jacket. “And the idea of me keepin’ an eye on ya’ kinda falls apart if you can see me but I can’t see you. Know what I mean?”
“So you’re serious about that.”
“Did’ya’ think I wasn’t?” He shook his head. “Look, ya’ can come downstairs with me. Hell, short of kickin’ ya’ out or throwin’ ya’ in holding, I doubt I can stop ya’. But, remember, this woman is a victim as well as a witness and you’re not a cop, so if she doesn’t want ya’ in there, I’m gonna set ya’ outside the door with a uniform or somethin’. Got it?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
We were already on the move, me at an almost jog to keep up with my friend’s normal long-legged pace. He rummaged around in his pockets and withdrew a tin of breath mints, offering them to me after popping one in his
