It’s not the typical profile.”
“My problem,” Grazia blurted, horrified to make the confession, “is that I’m having panic attacks. I’ve never had them before. Even when I was held up at gunpoint in Italy, I didn’t panic. When I was threatened by construction foremen who were cutting corners and didn’t want me to discover it, I wasn’t afraid. But now leaving my room terrifies me!”
“You are having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation,” explained the counselor. “Many women who have been raped experience the same thing. Your instincts are telling you, ‘It’s dangerous out there, you were injured, and you need to hide in a safe place.’ Follow your instincts. Stay in your hotel room and rest. Eventually your panic feelings will fade.”
“But I panicked just seeing a taxi!”
“Perhaps the taxi reminded you of your assault. We call this a “trigger.” I see on the clinic schedule that tomorrow you have an appointment with Cindy. She will teach you how to use these triggers to reduce your panic and anxiety.”
Grazia hung up, feeling better. Cindy had been right—talking helped. “You are having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation,” she told herself aloud. “You are safe in a lovely hotel room with three locks on the door and a direct line to the security officer.”
She looked at her watch. Three-thirty in the morning in Italy. She made the call anyway. She let Laura’s cell phone ring until the message request came; then she cut the connection and tapped the number again. This time Laura picked up.
“Grazia! It’s the middle of the night!” Laura protested, sleepy voiced.
“Have you remembered any of the men I was talking to at the Brazilian Bar?” Grazia demanded without preamble.
The sleep disappeared from Laura’s voice. “How are you feeling? You must be exhausted from talking to the police.”
“More exhausting were the five hours at the hospital emergency room this morning.”
“Emergency room?”
“They did all sorts of blood and urine test including for HIV. I took the morning-after pill. I’m taking drugs to keep myself from getting AIDS!”
“Dio!”
“The nurse even scraped the skin between my legs and under my nails.”
“Why?” Laura sounded bewildered.
“To get the skin cells or sperm from the man who raped me so they can get his DNA. She did a pelvic exam, too, looking for sperm. But Detective Cargill says the man used a condom. Men who drug women for sex don’t like to leave traces.”
“You weren’t drugged, Grazia,” Laura asserted, but her voice less uncertain.
“It was Rohypnol, the nurse says, by the symptoms. The crisis counselor agrees. I’ll know when the blood tests are back.”
“Crisis counselor?” Laura’s voice was faint.
“Laura, what hotel were you staying in?”
“I travel a lot; how can I remember every hotel?”
“Do these names sound familiar? They’re the four Italians we were talking to. I found their business cards in my purse. The detective is tracking them down.” Grazia read the names from her journal.
“What makes you so sure this man was Italian? There were Americans there, too.”
“The detective says that women are usually raped by men they know. The only men I know in New York were those four Italians you introduced me to. I’m going to get him, Laura. The hotel has CCTV. The detective has to get a court order, but once I see the video, I’ll recognize the bastard. Then all the detective has to do is get his DNA.”
“Grazia, you’re babbling. Calm down.”
“He deleted the photos I took at the bar from my phone. That was calculated. The bartender told the detective that he remembered me, but he didn’t see who I left with. I’ll talk to the bartender at the Brazilian Bar tomorrow. Maybe he’ll remember who I left with if he sees me in person. I know what the man was wearing. I have a witness.”
“Witness?” Laura’s voice rose.
“An old lady out walking her
“My problem,” Grazia blurted, horrified to make the confession, “is that I’m having panic attacks. I’ve never had them before. Even when I was held up at gunpoint in Italy, I didn’t panic. When I was threatened by construction foremen who were cutting corners and didn’t want me to discover it, I wasn’t afraid. But now leaving my room terrifies me!”
“You are having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation,” explained the counselor. “Many women who have been raped experience the same thing. Your instincts are telling you, ‘It’s dangerous out there, you were injured, and you need to hide in a safe place.’ Follow your instincts. Stay in your hotel room and rest. Eventually your panic feelings will fade.”
“But I panicked just seeing a taxi!”
“Perhaps the taxi reminded you of your assault. We call this a “trigger.” I see on the clinic schedule that tomorrow you have an appointment with Cindy. She will teach you how to use these triggers to reduce your panic and anxiety.”
Grazia hung up, feeling better. Cindy had been right—talking helped. “You are having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation,” she told herself aloud. “You are safe in a lovely hotel room with three locks on the door and a direct line to the security officer.”
She looked at her watch. Three-thirty in the morning in Italy. She made the call anyway. She let Laura’s cell phone ring until the message request came; then she cut the connection and tapped the number again. This time Laura picked up.
“Grazia! It’s the middle of the night!” Laura protested, sleepy voiced.
“Have you remembered any of the men I was talking to at the Brazilian Bar?” Grazia demanded without preamble.
The sleep disappeared from Laura’s voice. “How are you feeling? You must be exhausted from talking to the police.”
“More exhausting were the five hours at the hospital emergency room this morning.”
“Emergency room?”
“They did all sorts of blood and urine test including for HIV. I took the morning-after pill. I’m taking drugs to keep myself from getting AIDS!”
“Dio!”
“The nurse even scraped the skin between my legs and under my nails.”
“Why?” Laura sounded bewildered.
“To get the skin cells or sperm from the man who raped me so they can get his DNA. She did a pelvic exam, too, looking for sperm. But Detective Cargill says the man used a condom. Men who drug women for sex don’t like to leave traces.”
“You weren’t drugged, Grazia,” Laura asserted, but her voice less uncertain.
“It was Rohypnol, the nurse says, by the symptoms. The crisis counselor agrees. I’ll know when the blood tests are back.”
“Crisis counselor?” Laura’s voice was faint.
“Laura, what hotel were you staying in?”
“I travel a lot; how can I remember every hotel?”
“Do these names sound familiar? They’re the four Italians we were talking to. I found their business cards in my purse. The detective is tracking them down.” Grazia read the names from her journal.
“What makes you so sure this man was Italian? There were Americans there, too.”
“The detective says that women are usually raped by men they know. The only men I know in New York were those four Italians you introduced me to. I’m going to get him, Laura. The hotel has CCTV. The detective has to get a court order, but once I see the video, I’ll recognize the bastard. Then all the detective has to do is get his DNA.”
“Grazia, you’re babbling. Calm down.”
“He deleted the photos I took at the bar from my phone. That was calculated. The bartender told the detective that he remembered me, but he didn’t see who I left with. I’ll talk to the bartender at the Brazilian Bar tomorrow. Maybe he’ll remember who I left with if he sees me in person. I know what the man was wearing. I have a witness.”
“Witness?” Laura’s voice rose.
“An old lady out walking her
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