Jeffrey was standing, hand on his gun, before the man could get a word out.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the man demanded. “Get the fuck away from my daughter.”
Jeffrey tried, “Mr. Humphrey—”
Sara grabbed Jeffrey’s hand. The contact was enough to break him out of the moment.
“Who are you?” Humphrey walked down the steps. “Why are you bothering her?”
“I’m a police officer,” Jeffrey said.
“We don’t need no fucking cops.” Humphrey swung the wrench as he crossed the yard. “This is a private matter. You can’t make her talk to you.”
Jeffrey looked back at Tommi. She was trying to light another cigarette, acting as if nothing was happening around her.
“Get out of here, asshole.” Humphrey kept coming toward them.
Jeffrey longed for him to swing the wrench. This man had clearly terrorized his family. His wife was afraid of him. His daughter was already broken.
“Jeff.” Sara’s hand tightened around his. “Let’s go.”
He reluctantly let her steer him around the side of the house. By the time they reached the front yard, Jeffrey was calculating how he could go back.
“Stop,” she jerked his hand like she was heeling a dog on a leash. “You’re not making it better. You’re making it worse.”
“That man—”
“Is heartbroken. He’s trying to protect his daughter. He’s doing it in the wrong way, but he doesn’t know what else to do.”
Jeffrey watched Tommi’s mother close the curtains on the front window. The woman was sobbing.
“Stop.” Sara let her hand slip out from his. “Beating up that girl’s father will help you, but it won’t do a damn thing to help her.”
Jeffrey leaned against his palms on the roof of his car. He felt so fucking useless. He wanted to find the monster who had destroyed that girl and break him like a stick over his knee.
Sara crossed her arms. She waited.
He said, “Did you know that? What she said about the rapist holding the knitting needle to the back of her neck?”
“Not when it happened. She told me just now, before you got here.”
“You never asked her for details when you were treating her? When I could do something about it?”
“No,” Sara said. “She didn’t want to talk about it.”
“This was five months ago, right? After our divorce was finalized? Were you trying to punish me? Is that what this is all about?”
“Get in the car. I’m not doing this in the street.”
Jeffrey got into his car. Sara slammed her door so hard that the chassis shook.
She asked, “Do you honestly believe I would hold back something like this out of spite?”
Jeffrey looked back at the house. “You should’ve made her file a report, Sara.”
“I wasn’t going to force a woman who had just been brutally raped to do anything except exactly what she needed to do to feel safe.” Sara leaned up, blocking his view of the house. “Except for going to medical appointments, Tommi hasn’t walked more than ten yards into the backyard since it happened. She can’t sleep at night. She cries if her father is late getting home from work. She’s triggered by sounds, smells, anything from the sight of the mailman to the neighbor she’s known for twenty years. What happened to her in the woods is Tommi’s story to tell. She has a right to not speak about it.”
“That’s working really well for her. She’s practically catatonic.”
“That’s her choice. Do you want to take away her choice?” Sara added, “And what cop at your station right now can you name who would handle her report the way it should be handled?”
“Fuck this.” He turned the key in the ignition, but he didn’t want to go. “Why are you even here? You told me to stay away from her.”
“I knew you wouldn’t, and I wanted to prepare her.” Sara added, “You’re welcome, by the way. That’s the worst thing I’ve ever had to do to another woman.”
“Are you the patron saint of rape victims now?”
“I’m her doctor. She is my patient.” Sara slammed her fist against her chest. “My patient. Not your witness.”
“Your patient could’ve told me there was a sadist raping women on campus last year. She could’ve prevented Beckey Caterino from being attacked.”
“The same way you prevented Leslie Truong from disappearing?”
“That’s a low blow.”
“Everything is a low blow,” Sara said. “Everything is awful. That’s life, Jeffrey. You can only do what you can do. You can’t expect Tommi to bear the weight of responsibility for everything bad that has happened. She’s barely taking care of herself. And you can’t solve this by beating up her father as some kind of stand-in for the man who really hurt her.”
“I wasn’t—” He stopped short of slamming his fist against the steering wheel. “I wasn’t going to hit him.”
Sara let him stew in his own delusion.
As annoying as her silence could be, she sometimes used it judiciously. Jeffrey felt the tension start to release from his body. His mind started to clear. This was Sara’s white magic. She made him feel like the world was not going to grind him down into the ground. He would do anything to have these moments last.
He looked back at the house again. He hoped like hell that Tommi Humphrey would be able to find that same peace one day.
Sara cleared her throat. “Tommi said the attacker swung something at her head. She didn’t see it, but she was incapacitated by the blow.”
Again, Jeffrey thought of the crescent-shaped depression on the X-ray of Rebecca Caterino’s skull.
He said, “A hammer.”
“Tommi’s not exaggerating about her pubic hair being bleached. I could still smell it on her the next morning, even after she’d showered.”
Jeffrey nodded for her to continue, because he desperately needed to talk this out.
She said, “I feel like the attacker was watching her. He saw his chance when she was leaving the gym. He had the hammer with him. He had the bleach-soaked rag prepared to clean off any DNA. Which means he planned everything ahead of time, then waited for his moment.”
Jeffrey had worked out the same
