night terrors, you know, like I’ve seen alcoholics get.”
“Markie?”
“That’s what her friends call her,” Sarge said, dropping into the recliner. As he spoke, his fingertips slowly rubbed his left palm. “We got to talking a bit. She was too scared to stay in there by herself so I sat with her a while. She dozed off and on, and so did I. You were right, buddy. She sure as hell didn’t need to be out here by herself last night.”
Hannibal nodded. “And she dug her nails pretty deeply into your hand, I see. You’re a good man, Sarge.”
“She’s a good woman,” Sarge said. “Hannibal, how could a man break a woman down like that?”
Before Hannibal could answer he heard his named called from upstairs. He and Sarge stood immediately and jogged up the stairs to Marquita’s bedroom. The door was ajar, but Hannibal pushed slowly on his way in. Marquita was under the comforter, just as he had left her, but nothing else was the same. Both the disorder and the smell he had faced the first time he entered the room were gone. Roberts perched on the edge of the bed, speaking to her in hushed tones. Marquita had regained a little color and Hannibal could see a hint of African heritage, although her background was overwhelmingly French, judging by her features. She looked more centered than she had the night before, but her knit brow told Hannibal that it was still hard for her to focus.
“Now, will you be all right in here alone, while I go outside to talk to Mr. Jones?” Roberts asked. “He’s a friend.”
“I know,” Marquita said, smiling for a second in Hannibal’s direction. “He’s the man who was here when I collapsed. He was very sweet to me when he could have taken advantage.”
“Yes, but we need to speak out in the hall for a moment.”
“I’ll be fine, doctor, if Archibald can sit with me for a little while.”
Hannibal’s face jerked toward Sarge. “Archibald?”
Sarge raised a finger in front of Hannibal’s face, his course voice bristling. “You don’t never need to call me that, hear?”
“Hey,” Hannibal raised his palms toward Sarge. “I’m the last guy who’d make fun of anybody’s name, man.”
Still, he was chuckling as he backed out of the room. Roberts followed him into the next room and pushed the door closed behind himself. Hannibal waved Roberts into the vanity chair while he stood rather than sitting on the bed.
“So how’s she doing, Doc? Is she checking herself into a nice rest home?”
Oh, I don’t think so,” Roberts said. “She’s still in rather bad shape, but she’s pretty resilient, and if she keeps drinking lots of water to flush the alcohol out of her system I think she’ll be okay.” He looked up at Hannibal, the weight of his knowledge dragging his face down. “Someone used this girl badly, in ways I don’t see too often. Too many men, too many ways, and there are signs that when the men couldn’t do it to her themselves they used other things. And there are strap marks. She was really lucky.”
Hannibal shook his head. “Doesn’t sound too lucky to me.”
“I mean lucky you came along when you did,” Roberts said. “She’s hideously undernourished and dehydrated. If she had stayed in this house one more day, not eating and self-medicating with alcohol to dull her pain, who knows what would have happened to her. It was a fortunate turn of fate that brought you to her door before she was too weak or too drunk to answer the bell.”
“Yeah, timing is everything,” Hannibal said, thrusting his hands into his pockets. His hand hit a small bottle there. He pulled it out and, on an impulse, handed it to Roberts.
“Say, Doc, I found these in Marquita’s medicine cabinet. Something dangerous? If she was trying to commit suicide, maybe she should be under observation.”
Roberts shook a couple of the round pills into his hand and flipped one over to see the markings. His bushy white eyebrows rose.
“No, people don’t try to hurt themselves with flunitazepam. They leave it to someone else”
“Fluni-what?”
Roberts looked up and Hannibal with new weariness on his face. “Do you know the more common name Rohypnol?”
“Is that the same as roofies?” Hannibal asked. “The so-called date rape drug?”
“That’s it,” Roberts said, dropping the pills back into their bottle. “It does have sedative or hypnotic effects. Rohypnol really can incapacitate a girl; prevent her from resisting sexual assault, for instance. One of these is as powerful as ten Valium and can keep a person compliant for eight hours or more. I have to believe someone was using these to keep Ms. LaPage in a compliant frame of mind.”
“That’s sick,” Hannibal said. “To sneak drugs into a girl’s food or drink to take advantage of her?” He paced from one corner of the room to another. The sun coming in the window was annoying him.
“You found these in her medicine cabinet?” Roberts asked. Hannibal nodded. “Well then, I hardly think they were sneaking them into her.”
Hannibal stopped, mid-pace, and turned to stare at Roberts. “You mean you think she knew? Yeah, of course, she must have. Well, it makes sense I guess, if you want to be controlled. But that’s crazy. Why would anyone accept being drugged like that?”
“Ah, Hannibal,” Roberts said. “This sort of naivete ill becomes you. People will allow you to do anything once you’ve gained their trust. Whoever was here, whoever did these things to Ms. LaPage, He would appear to be a master at gaining women’s trust.”
Trust, Hannibal thought. Blair called it the number one business asset of our age. And maybe it was the number one asset of the sexual predator as well.
“What do we do now, Doc?”
“Well, she’ll need some looking after,” Roberts said, standing, “but I don’t think there’s a medical solution for her problems. When she’s regained her strength I would recommend psychiatric counseling. If she’s interested, I’d be happy to have her as a patient.”
The bedroom door was open just an inch or two, and Hannibal stood in front of it for a moment before pushing it wider. Sarge sat on the far side of the bed beside Marquita who was propped up on a collection of pillows and wrapped in a soft yellow silk robe. A shaft of light from the window cast a warm glow around her. Despite obvious exhaustion, she seemed animated as she chatted in low tones with Sarge. Color was already returning to her face. Her hair was shiny and now that it was brushed out it turned out to be longer than Hannibal had realized. It was hard to believe she looked this good, considering what Dr. Roberts had said about her health. Could one night’s sleep make that big a difference?
As he pushed the door open, Sarge and Marquita turned toward him. She presented the smile of a practiced southern hostess but her hand clutched Sarge’s a little tighter.
“It is good to see you again, Mr. Jones. Is the doctor gone?”
“Yes ma’am. He says you’re doing much better. I have to say you sure look a lot better than you did just last night. Do you think you’re up to talking to me for a while?”
“She’s pretty worn out, Hannibal,” Sarge said. “What do you need with her, anyway?”
Had Sarge been a canine, that question would have been a low warning growl. Hannibal hadn’t expected this protective stance, but it was clear from Sarge’s body language that he was standing guard over the girl. Hannibal smiled and pulled the chair from the vanity to sit close to the bed. “I have a client who had dealings with the man who hurt Marquita. I’ve been hired to find him, and she might be able to help me do that.”
“You know, buddy, I don’t know if this is stuff she needs to be talking about right now.” Sarge had puffed his chest out and squared his shoulders as he spoke. Hannibal was sure it was an unconscious response, the subtle signals he had learned to send in order to get his way as a bouncer without having to get physical with drunks. There was no percentage in conflict with Sarge. Hannibal kept his focus on Marquita LaPage.
“Ma’am, I know this other girl’s problems aren’t your concern, but I’m going to ask you to think about your life since Rod Mantooth left here. From what I saw, you’ve been punishing yourself and here’s why I think you’ve been doing that. I think you’ve been waiting for him to come back. And I think you hate yourself for wanting him to return. You’re doing everything he told you to do, hoping he’ll walk back in that door, but you know damn well that’s not what you ought to want.”
As Hannibal spoke, Marquita’s soft brown eyes widened and her breath became fast but shallow gasps. When
